by David Adams
Silas sighed. “We realized that might be the case. The source of information we had was quite out-of-date.”
“But do not look so downcast. We still travel the bay, and a passage might be arranged.”
Silas gave a grateful bow. “I am amazed at such hospitality. We do not even rightly know what your people are called, nor do you know for what purpose we travel.”
“Your purposes are your own. You have come to us peacefully, and are therefore honored guests. As to us, we call ourselves Tradoon, just as our village is named. I am known as Ska-a-teel.”
The visitors introduced themselves, and then Ska-a-teel went on. “You are most welcome. When do you wish to depart?”
“As soon as we can,” Silas said. “We are in some haste.”
“I will see what I can do to help. For now, you will rest in my home.” He stood and said, “Follow me.”
Ska-a-teel’s home was nearby. The interior was much like a home in the southern lands inhabited by men, except for the larger size of the furnishings. Ska-a-teel laid out a small meal for them, showed them where they could sleep if they so desired, then left to look into securing them passage south.
The companions felt uneasy about how quickly and oddly things were proceeding. Still, they wouldn’t turn away a meal freely offered.
“I have always thought my people to be hospitable,” Uesra said, “but these Tradoon put us to shame.”
“How do you think we feel?” Darius asked. “This is so foreign to the world of men that I keep wondering when they’ll spring the trap or turn on us in some other way. Even now.”
“A certain level of caution is wise,” Silas assured him. “But my own doubts make me wonder about the faith I profess. I don’t know that I’d take armed strangers into my home, and then leave them to do what they will.”
“They don’t strike me as naïve or detached from the realities of the world,” Barlow said, “despite this remote location. Maybe they have an innate sense of good and evil, and know we mean them no harm.”
Xanar studied Barlow a moment and then said, “You don’t really believe that.”
Barlow paused and then sighed. “No. But, like Silas, their openness and trust makes me look inward. It is one thing to profess what we do, another to know it in heart and mind and then truly live it.”
“It says a lot for you—for both of you—that you can admit as much openly,” Adrianna said. “No matter how much of the divine we embrace, or how much we believe dwells within us, we are still mortal, and shaped by the world around us. Such trust as we see here might be shown in the name of your Savior back home, but we all have seen too much to believe that trust would not eventually be abused. There is a fine line between compassion and foolishness.”
Barlow nodded once at Adrianna, silent thanks.
They had barely finished eating when Ska-a-teel returned. Without preamble he announced, “You have a boat and a capable Tradooner to guide it. Unfortunately, I fear I do need to ask one indulgence of you.”
Almost as one, the companions thought, Here it comes. Aloud, the only words spoken were Silas saying, “Certainly.”
“Bres-gon-ta, the boat’s owner, has obligations that will delay departure until morning. He points out, correctly, that it might be best to begin the journey under the sun’s light, regardless. You are all welcome to spend the night here. If this is insufficient I can check into making other arrangements.”
The broad smiles of the travelers were all the answer Ska-a-teel really needed, although everyone added their verbal gratitude at such generosity.
Uesra cleared her throat and asked, “Is there anything we can do for you in return?”
Ska-a-teel bowed his head and clapped his hands twice, which seemed to be the Tradoon version of shaking the head. “It would be an insult to ask such a thing, to both you as my guests and to my people.”
“We mean no insult,” Uesra said. “We are simply… overwhelmed by your kindness.”
Ska-a-teel lifted his chin and tapped his foot on the floor. “You do me honor. Have you been satisfied by your meal?”
“We have.”
“Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you. We are fine.”
“Then, please, take your ease. I have other duties to see to. I shall return shortly.”
They enjoyed a light dinner that evening with Ska-a-teel and his wife, Da-arg-bel. They could tell them apart by hair color and other features, but despite the lack of clothes they only knew them as male and female because of the way Ska-a-teel addressed her. As hosts the Tradoon were beyond reproach, and if they had any sort of curiosity about how the companions came to be here they did not reveal it with their questions, which were mainly general inquiries about their homes and people. Taking their host’s lead, the travelers asked similar, non-probing questions, learning the Tradoon tended to keep to themselves, passing their days in fishing or hunting, or in keeping their community in good repair. The only conflict that evening was around the use of the lone bed in the house, with Ska-a-teel and Da-arg-bel being insistent that their guests take it. They only relented when made to understand that all six travels wouldn’t fit in the bed, and that they’d appreciate being allowed to sleep on the floor so they could remain together. Unsure how to respond to what might be an odd human or elf custom, the hosts relented. But the blankets they provided were thick and warm, and the bed was not missed. The companions got the best night’s sleep they had had since leaving Lon Antar.
* * *
After providing a light breakfast the next morning, Ska-a-teel escorted the companions to the shore. There he pointed out Bres-gon-ta, who, with the help of another Tradooner, was just finishing the task of clearing the snow off of his ice boat. This done, Ska-a-teel wished them well and departed, acknowledging their calls of thanks and gratitude by turning and lifting his chin in a quick thrust. He then wheeled about and left them in the charge of Bres-gon-ta.
“Not much for introductions, are they,” Adrianna said.
“Guess they don’t see the need,” Darius responded.
They presented themselves to Bres-gon-ta, who acknowledged each in turn, but did not give his own name or that of his helper, replying instead by asking, “Are you ready to depart?”
“We are,” Silas replied.
“Follow,” he told them.
The two Tradooners lifted the boat without much sign of strain, an impressive feat. It was made of thick wood, with a pair of metal runners that could act as skates along the bottom. Two masts, a larger and a smaller, were adorned with unfurled sails. The Tradooners placed the boat onto the ice and held it in position while inviting their guests onboard.
Among the few things stowed on the boat were a number of thick blankets. Bres-gon-ta passed these out to his passengers, explaining, “Once we get moving the air will be very cold. These should help.”
He was swiftly proven right. Once the sails were up and catching the wind, the skiff picked up considerable speed. The Tradooners stood tall, enjoying the frigid wind as it whipped their hair about them wildly. Their passengers were happy for the speed, but grateful for the blankets. They ducked down and did their best to keep warm.
Over the next several hours they learned the second Tradooner was Ga-esh-plah, Bres-gon-ta’s son. They assumed him to be an adult son, given that the two Tradooners were roughly the same size. Bres-gon-ta was a fisher, and had had several good catches of late, and therefore the accumulated snow on his boat. He planned to do some fishing on the return voyage, thinking to try the deeper water in the central part of the bay that his people rarely reached these days.
“It’s good you might get some benefit from this trip,” Darius commented to Ga-esh-plah, who had taken up station next to him. “Makes us feel a little less guilty about what you’re doing for us.”
“Why do you feel guilt?” Ga-esh-plah wanted to know. “You have made no demands. Our service to you is freely given.”
“Maybe that
’s our problem. My people sometimes have difficulty accepting what is freely given. We feel we need to earn everything, and if not, then to repay in some way.”
Ga-esh-plah thought this over. “Odd. I understand your words, but not the feelings behind them.”
“I guess I’m the same way with the actions of your people. Regardless, we’re very grateful for what you’re doing for us.”
“It is an honor to serve.”
“Do you know how long it’ll take to cross the bay?”
“It depends on how much of the bay is iced-over, the wind, and where you wish to land. Likely a day, maybe less, maybe more.”
Darius looked at the others. “Where do we want to land?”
“It’s best we land away from the cities,” Silas replied. “We don’t know what we’ll find, but our welcome is unlikely to be warm.”
“I agree,” said Barlow. “We should try to stay concealed until we understand what’s happening, and where we need to go.”
“You are in luck, in that case,” said Bres-gon-ta. “The most direct route across the bay would place us roughly between Genola and Antigo. I assume these remain the largest cities?”
“They are,” Barlow said. “I’m surprised you know of them.”
“I have visited them.”
“But Ska-a-teel said you have not had dealings with men for over one hundred and fifty years,” Adrianna said.
“He speaks the truth.” He looked from one face to the next, then finally grasped the meaning of their confused looks. “I was young at the time. My son has seen neither city.”
“Your life spans are like those of the elves,” Uesra concluded.
“Several hundred years, barring accidents,” Bres-gon-ta said.
“All the more reason for dropping us in a remote location,” Silas said. “The chance of any ‘accidents’ involving you or your son will be greatly reduced.”
“You do not strike me as outlaws.”
“Not in the common sense of the word,” Darius said. “But we might be termed such by some, to be honest.”
“We have heard rumors of great wars to the south. Such times are trying. It can be hard to tell friend from foe.”
“And such it is with us,” said Silas. “From what Ga-esh-plah was saying, I take it we may arrive at night?”
“There is a strong likelihood that that will be the case.”
“Even better.”
“I understand. We will do what we can to make it so.”
Several hours into the journey, the ice finally gave way and they sailed upon the water. They slowed significantly, but the breeze remained strong and steady, as did their progress. Before full darkness fell they had regained the ice, telling them they were drawing nearer their destination. The temperature dropped quickly as the sun disappeared over the horizon, and even the Tradoon took blankets to ward off the night air. Even though the sky was clear, the moon was new, and so they only had the dim starlight by which to see. Despite the depth of the darkness around them they did not resort to torch or spell to give light, as this would draw the attention of anyone along several miles of the fast-approaching shore. Luckily the Tradoon had good night vision, and slowed the boat steadily as they neared the shores of Dalusia. The boat reached land with only the slightest bump.
The companions hesitated, home but not home. The quiet dark seemed ominous and foreboding.
“We have arrived in Dalusia,” Bres-gon-ta announced, not understanding the reason for delay.
“And so we have,” said Silas, keeping his voice low. He stepped off the boat carefully, making sure of his footing. Here it was winter, too, and the ground was covered with several inches of snow.
After the others disembarked, Bres-gon-ta asked, “Is there anything else you need?”
“No,” Adrianna replied. “You’ve done more than enough already.”
“Then good luck on the rest of your journey.” He and his son pushed off and turned the boat. They slipped away before the travelers could properly thank them, and their calls of gratitude went unanswered.
“Wait!” Darius called. “We still have your blankets!”
“Keep them,” Bres-gon-ta replied. “May they serve you well.”
They waited a few moments in silence, listening to the flap of the ice-boat’s sail and the grinding sound of the runners on the ice. Finally the noises faded and they were alone.
“The south’s a lot darker than I expected,” Xanar said.
“Oh, this is nothing,” Darius told him. “Wait until you see Longvale.”
“Very amusing,” Barlow said. “But we are lucky for the cover. As far as we know, this is enemy territory.”
“Knowing we’d be considered outlaws in Longvale, I’d say this is enemy territory, whether controlled by Dalusia or Longvale.”
“The question, then, is “ ‘What now?’ ”
“Move away from the shore and see if we can find shelter,” Uesra suggested. “Once the sun comes up, we’ll be a lot more conspicuous.”
Off to their left they could just make out the deeper shadow of a small wood. It seemed as likely a starting point as any.
* * *
Kaelesh sat brooding. He wanted to lash out, to see death and pain all about him and so salve his wounded pride, but he managed to maintain control. That control was why his brothers allowed him to set their plans, why he was the leader among equals. That control was why he always won in the end. The truth of that didn’t help as much as he would wish at the moment.
At his feet was a large bag, which held the heads of three of his dark priests. Their deaths did not bother him—although two he had had great hopes for—as he knew these were three more souls that were his forever. Even from a tactical point of view, an uprising was not in and of itself a problem. There were always those who fought back, who clung to hope when it should have been long abandoned. Small setbacks were to be expected. What irked him was the utter audacity of sending the heads back to the capital, the brazen disregard for the power behind the three fallen dark priests. It was the person or group responsible for such a thing that Kaelesh wanted to strike at, but they remained, for now, anonymous. Even the person who had delivered the heads had done so in secret, leaving the sack outside the city gate with a note indicating the package was for the council. The only clue Kaelesh had to go on was the fact that the sack was left at the northern gate, and the tracks in the snow, as far as they could be seen, appeared to come from and go back toward the north as well. Not much, but it would have to do. Unfortunately the three dead priests had been acting and moving about on their own, not under direct orders from Kaelesh, so although he could identify the dead, that fact did not aid his investigation.
He thought of Orgoth, and a smile curled his lips, as it often did when there was destructive work to be done. If he had a target, even thought he knew where to strike, he’d be more than happy to unleash his sadistic, bloodthirsty brother. But that control he was so proud of won out, and he knew it was Praad’s skills that might pay more handsomely, both in uncovering who was behind such an act, and in breaking the will of said person or people. And in the end, victory under those terms was always so much sweeter.
After he made the appropriate preparations he called to his brother. When Praad’s image hovered into existence Kaelesh said simply, “I have a job for you to the north.”
Praad’s smile made Kaelesh begin to feel better immediately.
Chapter 10: Moving South
They had put off making any final decisions for a brief time, but as soon as they hit the Coast Road they would have to go east or west, or forsake it for open country. There had been no signs of life up till now and there was none on the road, not a surprise, especially in winter, but of no help to them either. They wanted to find out what was happening in Dalusia, and if the Longvale army was still about. Failing that, they would head for Longvale. They decided to take the road and go east, which would take them to Genola before it turned south for Longvale.
If they wanted to they could stay with the road all the way to Old Bern and beyond.
The road itself was snow-covered here in the northern reaches of Dalusia, but the path it marked was easily followed and it provided surer footing so they used it. They moved in the open, hungry for news, wanting to find someone they might talk to. If they saw a large force from any of the southern kingdoms they hoped to find cover before they were seen. Here the elven cloaks served double duty, keeping Xanar and Uesra’s blue skin hidden in shadow as well as keeping all of them reasonably warm.
They were on the road three days before seeing another person. A thin, grizzled man was pulling a sled loaded with a small, blanket-covered pile of goods or possessions, upon which sat a child of no more than nine years. The man’s head was down as he worked to pull the sled, and the companions spotted him long before he was aware of them. They waited for him to approach, trying to look as unthreatening as they could.
When the man finally became aware of them, his step took a quick hitch, as if his mind quickly evaluated such ideas as turning back, moving off the road, or even stopping, but just as quickly dismissed them. He kept to his work and his eyes stayed fixed on the snow-covered road. As he neared it was obvious he hoped to pass without exchanging any words with the group.
“Good day to you,” Silas said, mustering some cheer.
“Good day,” the man replied, the words running together as if he couldn’t get them out of his mouth fast enough.
Silas saw the child peering out from beneath a thin blanket, the eyes wary and haunted, eyes that had seen more than any child’s should. The child shivered, a motion Silas believed had nothing to do with the cold. In his heart, Silas wanted to just let them pass, wasn’t sure what he’d do if the man refused to halt without having his path blocked. Silas truly hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “We’d like to speak with you a moment, if we could. We’ve been on the road a long time.”
The man heaved a long sigh but pulled up and let the sled slide to a stop. He kept his eyes averted and looked like he had already contested his desires versus those asking him to stop and been soundly beaten. Something in his sunken expression said it was not an uncommon feeling in his life of late.
