by Jon Bender
“That won’t be necessary,” General Nelix said, emerging from the trees with half a dozen men in tow. “The men are well trained and will stay together. If they come back and find us gone, they will catch up. If they don’t, well… We have a job to do and can’t risk looking for them.”
“We have to try!” Darian protested.
“Do you think that attack was random?” Nelix asked, harshly. If we don’t get these wagons to Alexar, he will kill the king. Or’Keer must know that and wants us to fail.”
“He’s right,” Jaxom said. He hated it, but it was the truth. They had not hidden their purpose. Stopping the wagons would mean Corin’s death. With his brother gone, the fledgling alliance he was forming would fall apart. They could not risk handing the fifteen kingdoms to Or’Keer. Continuing on was the rational choice, but in his heart, Jaxom knew he was willing to sacrifice those men to save his brother.
Cribble spit on the ground and looked about the road as more men filtered back. “Mount and get ready to move!” he shouted.
“Will they try again?” Laiden asked, his voice low and unsure.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they used every man they have to try and stop us,” Jaxom said, looking suspiciously into the trees. He could feel eyes watching them.
“Or’Keer must not have many worshipers left in Ale’adaria. No dark priests were among them,” Darian said.
Jaxom nodded skeptically as he watched the emora return, blood staining its mouth.
The next few days passed without incident, but they were all tired. With so few men, Nelix had put half on guard while the other half slept, and the mages were no exception. All three took their turn on watch. Jaxom instructed Darian and Laiden not to use their magic if they should be attacked again. From this point on, they could not risk Alexar discovering them amongst the soldiers guarding the ransom.
The road narrowed as they approached their destination. Thick trunks now grew so close to the road that Jaxom could take a few steps off the dirt-packed surface and be in the forest. The closeness put the men on edge, all keeping their eyes fastened to the trees on their side of the road. The smell of water grew stronger, a refreshing scent that eased the tension in Jaxom’s back and shoulders where he could almost feel someone’s eyes on him, following them, for the past three days. Up ahead, the reflective surface of the wide river rippled and sparkled in the sunlight. The road dipped as the trees thinned, leading them to the muddy bank dotted with log buildings.
They were far from impressive, with poorly cut logs for walls and mismatched wood shingle rooves. Green moss clung to every structure like a disease. Nelix ordered the men to gather the wagons in a clearing outside of the village while he, Jaxom, and Cribble went to find ships. Leaving their horses with the wagons, they entered the village on foot. The scrubby grass quickly turned to mud, a quagmire sucking at their boots with every step. Two buildings were considerably larger than the others. Above one hung a sign that proudly declared it to be the “Frux Trade House” in faded yellow letters on a mossy wood board. The other was “The Wet Mug.”
“Cribble,” Nelix said, getting the Commander’s attention. See if Frux has any supplies we need while Jaxom and I track down whoever owns the ships.”
Jaxom looked out to the river as Cribble headed for the ramshackle trading post. Dozens of boats were tied to the pier and even more lingered just off shore. Each had a single mast and triangular sail to hold the wind. Atop the masts flew blue flags adorned with a falcon marking them as native to Ale’adaria. Long wooden arms for dragging nets spread out over the sides. Four flat-topped ships with two masts and similar sails bobbed next to the pier. Sizing them up, Jaxom saw Nelix had been right. They would need two of those to get the wagons across in one trip.
“What do they do with all the fish they catch?” Jaxom asked.
“Salt it and deliver it throughout Ale’adaria and other lands. Or they used to. The fighting must have slowed their trade,” Nelix replied.
Approaching the Wet Mug, Jaxom saw that it did not even have a door. They stepped up out of the mud road directly onto the porch of the tavern. The empty door frame opened into a dimly lit room with battered tables and chairs occupied by men in dirty clothing. The whole place smelled of fish and mold. Jaxom wondered if the place ever dried out, or if it would sit in a state of dampness for all time.
Nelix approached the bar. A man with a large gut stretching out a stained white apron greeted him. “What can I do for you today, Captain? A couple mugs for you and your friend?”
“I need two ship captains to get twenty wagons and my men across the river.”
“The only boats large enough to do that belong to Gren. He bought out the other captains when trade with Bruxa stopped.”
“Where is this Gren?” Nelix asked.
“Up the river a bit, fishing off the bank,” the man said, pouring a mug of ale. “I’d be happy to send my boy out to fetch him if a paying customer asked.”
Nelix grunted and pulled a silver from his pouch, sliding the coin over the bar. “Pour another for my soldier as well.”
“Happy to, Captain,” the man said, filling another mug.
Nelix slid the mug over to Jaxom before taking a swallow of his own. Jaxom lifted it then put it down quickly after getting a whiff of the sour liquid. “Any idea what happens when we get across?”
“Alexar is sure to have soldiers placed at every village and town on the border,” Nelix, said leaning against the bar to survey the room.
“At least once we are across, Or’Keer is less likely to come after us again.”
Nelix nodded. “We just have to hope the soldiers haven’t been instructed to kill us.”
“Alexar won’t do that,” Jaxom said. “He needs Ale’adaria to provide supplies for his own battles. Killing us without provocation would jeopardize his plans.”
“Whatever happens, we are not going back without the King,” Nelix said, drinking.
While they waited, Jaxom went over the plan in his head again, looking for flaws. Twenty minutes later, the owner led a man to an empty table. Gren had short, dirty-blond hair that matched his clean shaven face and well cared for clothes. He invited them to join him at a table while the owner poured him a mug.
“I hear you want to hire a couple of my ships. What are you needing carried?” Gren asked.
“Twenty wagons and near a hundred men,” Nelix said.
“Up river or down?”
“Whichever gets us to a town fastest.”
“Arr’is is over a day and night’s sail south. They have docks where it will be easy to offload your wagons,” Gren said, leaning back.
“Fine,” Nelix said. “What’s your price?
“Two hundred gold pieces,” Gren said, grinning.
Jaxom stared. For that price, they should be able to buy a small ship of their own. He looked at Nelix to see if he shared his outrage. The hardened general never lost his calm expression.
“I could just take your ships in the king’s name and leave them on the other side for you to retrieve.”
“You and your soldiers would never get them there without running aground. The river is very shallow in some parts, and it changes every year,” Gren said, with a dismissive wave.
“I’m willing to try,” Nelix said, his steely gaze locked on Gren’s eyes. “I’ll pay fifty. Otherwise, I take your ships and leave.”
“One hundred, and you get there safely,” Gren countered. Nelix let several seconds pass, then nodded slowly, offering his hand. Gren reached out and took it before standing. “Have your wagons at the docks tomorrow morning, and we will get underway.”
“We want to leave today,” Nelix said, standing with Gren and not releasing his grip.
Gren looked down at their locked hands then into Nelix’s hard eyes. “I don’t have crews on hand to operate my ships. I need the rest of the day to round up enough men.”
Nelix continued to stare at the man as if looking for something before rel
enting and releasing the man’s hand. Gren continued to meet the stare for a moment more, then turned to the bar where the owner poured him another drink. Nelix was already off the porch and into the mud street before the owner of the Wet Mug had lifted the pitcher away.
“Do you think we will have a problem with him?” Jaxom asked, looking back over his shoulder.
Nelix grunted. “No. His type is motivated only by wealth. As long we hold up our end and pay him, he will do as he says.”
Jaxom accepted that Nelix knew what he was talking about and left it at that. There was no reason to create trouble where there wasn’t any. Returning to the field and wagons, Jaxom looked out over the river to the opposite bank. In any case, there was already plenty of trouble waiting for them. Somewhere on the other side, his brother sat in a dark cell. Whatever happened, they would not return without him.
Chapter 5
Corin stopped to admire the assortment of brightly colored flowers blooming in the many beds dotting the garden. Murmuring appreciatively, he covertly inspected the four soldiers guarding him. They had yet to show any signs of becoming lax in their duty. Having found no way of escape, he had been forced to bide his time and wait for them to make a mistake he could exploit. He silently cursed their firm stance and unwavering eyes. His good behavior over the past months, had won him an increase in the time he was allowed outside of the cell, but he was still not allowed to leave the palace. It was out of concern for his safety, Alexar had politely explained. Corin had seen no harm in asking.
The King of Bruxa visited him occasionally, bringing wine and padded chairs so that they could sit comfortably and talk. Corin played along, discussing the dark god’s actions and how other kingdoms had handled the incursions. He had no problem sharing that information. If Alexar could use it to hurt Or’Keer, his actions would only be of benefit to all. He evaded questions concerning Terika and the death mages for the opposite reasons. When Corin refused to answer, Alexar would smile in a way that never reached his eyes.
Corin had not understood these visits until yesterday. Alexar had mentioned in passing that he had no one from whom he could seek counsel. His advisors were all sycophants, incapable of offering good advice. Corin surrounded himself with people who would question his decisions while Alexar had removed any such people long ago. He now had no one with whom he could speak that would not agree with everything he said. His four children were constantly vying for the throne, and he did not feel he could trust even them. This left Corin, a captive audience and peer who would speak his mind even as a prisoner.
“Good afternoon, Corin,” Eleanor said, breaking his reverie.
He had been so deep in thought he had not noticed her arrival. She still wore the white dress with large pockets on the front, and her black hair was tied into a tight bun. Corin caught himself wondering how she would look with it down. Besides his guards, she had been the one person he saw every day. If he was honest with himself, her company made the whole ordeal bearable.
“Good afternoon, Eleanor. I see you are still attending me. Have you not managed to return to King Alexar’s good graces?”
“His Majesty is pleased with my services and commands me to continue, but now I have help,” she said with smile.
“That’s good news! I haven’t had a real bath in a while.”
“I thought you were satisfied with me,” she said, her smile falling a little.
“Oh, it gets the job done. I didn’t want you carrying all those buckets just so I could clean myself.”
Her smile lifted again. “Thank you. I am glad that I was allowed to stay with you. You are very kind. Serving you is preferable to serving the princes or princesses.”
That perked his interest. Corin had yet to encounter any of the Alexar’s children in all the time he had been here. When he had first asked Eleanor anything about the king or his heirs, she had been evasive. Perhaps she trusted him enough now to confide.
“Tell me about them,” he said in a conversational tone, as he started to walk down the stone path through the garden.
Eleanor followed but remained quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke, she kept her voice low. “They are vile, detestable creatures. The princes have been known to coerce the servant girls into sharing their beds. If the girls refuse, the princes threaten to take them anyway and then have them killed for defiance. Also, I heard rumors that the oldest, Prince Ed’in, hired assassins to kill his father and brother Ront. The plan failed, and when the men who survived were to be questioned, they were found dead in their cells.”
“What of the princesses?” he asked, turning a bend and glancing over his shoulder. The guards followed steadily, but out of earshot.
“Princess Deena tried to strangle her younger sister when they were children. She almost succeeded. They have continued trying to kill each other ever since. When they are not making attempts on each other’s lives, they vie with one another for their father’s favor.”
“They’re really that bad?” he asked, shaking his head. It was hard to imagine. Corin had been an only child until Jaxom had arrived, and he had always cherished his brotherly bond.
“People say that Princess Shana was once the only good one of the lot, but she has learned to be as cunning as the others.”
Corin shook his head again. Like their father, they were only concerned with what they could grab for themselves. “I’m glad you are to remain with me.”
“I am much a prisoner as you are,” she said, her voice dropping even lower as her eyes darted about for anyone who might have overheard.
“When I get out of here, perhaps you could come with me,” he said, letting the time old fantasy of rescuing the damsel and his own better nature get the best of him. It was not something he should have said, but was now too late to take back.
She remained quiet for a moment before speaking, unease radiating from her as she did. “I don’t think the king plans to let you go.”
“That might be true, but nothing lasts forever. My time here will end, one way or another.”
“Are you planning to escape? Or will your people will come for you?” she asked, whispering again.
Corin liked Eleanor, but he could not risk trusting anyone until he was again free. Besides, knowing his plans would only put her at risk. “I don’t think they will try to rescue me anytime soon. As long as I am safe, my people will try to negotiate for my freedom. Using force would be a last effort.”
“If they negotiate your release, will you promise to take me with you?”
Corin stopped and looked at her. He had become fond of her during his time as a captive, and that affection had just led him to make a promise he might not be able to keep. “I will do what I can.”
She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Corin looked back at the soldiers and found them smirking at the show of affection. They were continuing down the path when a gardener tripped over an exposed root. The man fell to his side, gripping his knee in pain. A woman weeding a flower bed nearby ran to aid him. Getting the gardener to his feet, she took one of his arms over her shoulder to help him hobble away. In that moment, Corin had an idea.
“Could you get me a razor to shave?” he asked her.
She looked at him with surprise. “Why? I like the way your face looks now.”
“I usually shave in the spring when the weather warms. A beard can become uncomfortable in the heat,” he said, running a hand over the curly blond hair on his face.
She nodded. “I will have to tell the guards, but I think it would work as long as they saw the razor after.”
Corin smiled in thanks.
Chapter 6
Adriana watched the light of pre-dawn break over the horizon. They would soon have to find a place to land and wait out the day. Flying at night was colder but necessary to avoid being seen heading towards Bruxa. If someone did spot them, that person would have to ride hard all day and night, switching out horses, to beat them to the
city of Taurn. Even so, avoiding notice all together was the best option.
Adjusting her goggles to a more comfortable position, she checked the tightness of the straps securing her to the saddle. The leather thongs, a recent addition to the riding equipment, reduced the chance of a fall. Finally, she found what she was looking for. Pulling her reins to the right, she flew toward Warin, who rode the dragon. At first, she had been a bit jealous of the mage’s new mount. She was proud of her men and what they could do astride the durgen, but when she had first seen the dragon, she wanted badly to be the one who commanded it. Being one of the few honored with the title of Rider made her feel special, and initially she had worried that this new risen would overshadow the durgen riders. Her fear was quickly put to rest upon seeing the dragon in flight. When she was a little girl, her father had read her stories of the mythical creatures, powerful beings that could lay waste to anything in their path. Though Kasric had done an excellent job in creating it, what it had in power it lacked in speed and agility. The durgen were much faster, and their group now had to slow their pace to keep Warin from falling behind. Still, she wished she could command it at least once, except that its size demanded a death mage’s magic to control it.
She drew herself into position to speak with Warin. The tips of the dragon’s wings made it impossible for her to pull up along the side, so she flew just over the mage’s head. “I will scout ahead for a place to land,” she shouted over the thumping wings.
Warin looked up at her and nodded before returning his eyes forward. Adriana kicked the durgen’s flanks, and the risen beat its feathered wings harder, increasing its speed. Soon, both the dragon and the other durgen were out of sight. She leaned in low, holding tight to the saddle horn and squeezing her thighs, signaling her durgen to pull its wings in and dive. It was one of the many commands Jaxom had instilled in the risen mount. Wind pushed against her, and the sight of the ground speeding towards her sent a rush of exhilaration through her body. At the last second, she leaned back, pulling on the reins. The obedient durgen spread its wings wide to catch the air once more and lift them out of the dive. She loved being a rider. Nothing could compare to the feeling of freedom she felt while flying.
