And yet, it would appear that possibly James had done just that. Unless of course, he really had fallen, which was more than likely. Terragone did not voice these thoughts and observations to the others however. It was cruel to allow them to hope that perhaps James might be alive.
—————
“There’s thirty or forty closing in on us.” Sir Lavison reported after going out with a few of the others to scout goblin activity, “But there's excellent ground just a bit further on. Better than this enclosed pass for fighting. Shall we proceed there and make ready?”
Terragone nodded absently and loosed his heavy sword for the fourth time that day. His eye was fixed on the clouds as they swept in. At this rate, it would still be days before they made it out of these wretched mountains. If only they could rid themselves of the goblins and find some other, less snowy path through the peaks. He followed Sir Lavison up the sloping side of mountain to the flat area that would soon become the site of yet another goblin fight. The little grubby monsters had only managed to surprise the company once, and since then they'd managed to get the upper hand on the goblins by picking the battleground themselves. This couldn't always be done, and they'd fought in the cramped narrow pass plenty, but they made it out with fewer injuries if they could get out into the open. It was much colder out on the wind-whipped flat though. In the distance, a frozen lake stood still and dull, never-ending cloud-wreathed mountain peaks rising behind it, the somber grey, snow-laden clouds the ever-present backdrop.
The knights slowly gathered on the flat as they pulled their weary way up out of the pass. Several of the servants led the horses down to a sheltered spot, out of sight and more protected from the wind chill, and the others gathered with the knights and readied their weapons as they'd done already so often. Sir Kessil ran up as the last of them was loosening his stiff shoulder and unsheathing his sword.
“They're coming,” the young knight panted as he pointed back the way he just run, “and one's got a crude bow, so take him out early.” and he showed them an exceedingly primal arrow he'd picked up along the way.
“I take it they saw you?” Terragone asked.
“Yes well, there's fewer now because of it. But by golly, they’re quick in this confounded snow. Downright uncanny and unfair.”
Sir Lavison was not standing very near to Terragone and heard little of this dialogue, but what he did hear, pained him. ‘By golly’ was a phrase James had introduced to their vocabulary unintentionally. James. What had happened to him? Why hadn't he stayed with the older gentleman to make sure he didn't stray off the path? After having rescued him so many times that day, he should've known he was bound to slip again. In Sir Lavison's guilty mind, he was the reason James wasn't here with them now. He had abandoned him. He had let him fall. He was the reason James was gone.
The goblins came pouring crazily over the side of the pass up to where the company awaited them. Their pale eyes shone angrily as they screeched and yelled like mad monkeys. They rushed forward crazily, their scrawny legs and arms reaching out for revenge. The bowman among them was done away with quickly by a bowman who happened to be a bit more experienced. Poor fellow! He seemed so proud of his quaint little bow! But the mob continued on bravely, sticks and stones waving in their slender and twisted fingers.
It is needless to waste time on describing the squall. It was short-lived, quite gruesome, and very noisy. Let that suffice. In twenty minutes they had chased off the last three and were regrouping and fitting up for travel again. Some were bandaging minor wounds and others were wiping their swords off on the ground. The bowman retrieved his arrows and they all got back down into the pass, where the wind was less. But the snow had started falling now and it whipped and thrashed and made every inch of exposed skin sting and turn scarlet. The wind bellowed above their heads and pushing forward meant pushing against its strength. It was miserable and the rest of the day saw no improvement. Group after group of goblins attacked, usually a new wave every three or four hours and the snow made these fights deplorable.
This misery carried on for another two days before the goblins finally gave up and left, seeming to take the worst of the cold and snow with them as well. And finally, the worst behind, they began down the long descent of the last mountain. At long last they finally came out of the cold and mist sitting over the peaks and could see down into Falair, a country few of them had ever been to.
Falair was a desert country. Rainfall was rare this side of the mountains and clouds seemed to snag on the high jagged peaks and never make it to the dry, sunny valley below. It was flat, as far as the eye could see, and heat rose from it as like from a fire, and obscured the horizon with its waves.
However, south, along the mountainside and stretched out like a black rug, was the lesser Tanlyiere, just as dark and mysterious as its eastern counterpart. The peaks towering above it were far enough south not to be covered in snow, but were still wreathed and concealed by thick seas of mist, some of which wafted down to the forest below. Rumors were whispered that the heart of all evil had settled somewhere in those mountains, near the foot of the Scorched Crown, and that all the danger that came from the Tanlyiere, originated from whatever evil lurked in those mountains. It was part of the reason why Terragone had chosen to cross the mountains further north, despite the snow ridden peaks, when the southern crossing would have been much more comfortable. It could just be rumor and gossip and nothing more, but the threats in those mountains were just as great, even without a fabled curse.
They didn’t have far to go after that and the way was easy. The land in Falair was all very flat and there was very little to break the monotony of flat treeless plains and small scrubby forests. Occasionally they would pass through areas with redstone mesas, or deep yellow canyons, but for the most part it was a barren land. They made good time however, and it wasn’t long before they had reached Kasteyn's kingdom which was slightly more fertile than the rest of his land. The desert flora and fauna here was both more alive and more beautiful than any they’d seen in the country yet.
Since leaving the mountains, the pace had been steady and remarkably quick. So much so, they began to wonder if this was because of the loss of what might've very well been a bit of a burden. James was not around to make break times twice as long as they were suppose to be, or to find a thousand little distractions to create his own break times when the others wouldn't stop. And now, even though it was only a week since the incident, they were beginning to move on and James wasn't such the sad subject he once had been.
That is, for all but a few. For Sir Lavison, Fife, and a few others, the loss was still too recent. While most of the others returned to a pre-James mindset, (though perhaps with a slightly wider vocabulary) treasuring fond memories of all the fun times they'd had, there were those few who still couldn't look back on those times with anything but dull aching pain and regret.
—————
“Welcome, my lord Terragone.”
A young man stood tall and kingly, his right hand grasping a ritualistic scepter, for kings didn't really use scepters anymore except in the most traditional sense. At the man's side was a young boy who carried himself with every inch of the decorum and royalty his father portrayed. His wee head bend slowly in respect for the visiting prince.
Terragone dipped his own head in thanks, as his grey eyes met king Kasteyn's squarely on. He looked very much now as young Harvest had forty years earlier. Only an exceedingly keen observer would be able to discern the subtle differences between how the father had looked in his prime and how his son looked now. But it was there, and what it came down to was that Terragone wore royalty like a burden, whereas his father wore it as a privilege.
“Kasteyn, Eynware, (because there are some children who seem to deserve acknowledgement straight off, they're so mature) my thanks for your extravagant hospitality in such as these troubled times finds you. I, and my father with me, extend the hand of friendship and peace to you and your family. It i
s also my pleasure to inform you that you have Gailli's sympathies and support in this war for territory against Thaxa.”
Terragone had got the ins and outs of the state of affairs in Falair this morning, Sir Lavison having taken his free and purposed restful morning running wild over the entire kingdom learning exactly what stage this war was in, why there was a war at all, which side was right, which was wrong, and what Falair was doing in preparation. Then he had interrupted Terragone's quiet morning and dumped all his newly acquired information onto him. But it was excusable. They had been without news of any kind for over a month and many interesting things can happen in a month.
Kasteyn had been at declared war with Thaxa for several weeks now but they were only now mustering troops for their first real all-out battle. King Zanther had pillaged and burned dozens of the villages nearest the border and had taken captive all the civilians who hadn’t evacuated. As was normal, the surrounding countries chose not to get involved in the rivalry between Thaxa and Falair. However, it was the general opinion that Zanther didn't stand a chance this time. He was in the wrong and most seemed to think that that alone made him susceptible to quick defeat. He wasn't playing it fair by most countries’ standards and Kasteyn’s vengeance would be swift and sure. Terragone purposefully chose not to get swept into the craziness of it. Falair and Thaxa were always fighting. This really was nothing so new except that Zanther really wasn’t being above board. For a king who really wouldn't be categorized as an ‘evil king’, Zanther’s behavior was unusual. All the previous wars Falair and Thaxa had experienced over the years had been guided by some assumed rules of fair play, all of which the rash lord was now ignoring.
—————
Kasteyn motioned for his son to leave and stepped down from his throne to stride over to Terragone, hand outstretched, “I’m teaching him about the proper method of receiving guests, but it is a very cold way to greet someone I consider more than just my guest.”
Terragone took the hand firmly and smiled at the retreating figure of Kasteyn's young son.
“I would say you are a very good teacher.”
“Thank you. I am trying. But how do these times find you and the king of Gailli?” here Kasteyn gestured for Terragone to follow him as he led him out of the formal hall and down to more comfortable apartments.
“Prosperous and busy. He is building a new castle a few miles inland for the time when I shall marry and rule on my own. From the plans he showed me several months ago, it looks to be one of the most glorious created wonders seen in many a long age.”
Kasteyn had little interest in the building of castles at the time being, since he was in a time of war. Nor was he artistic enough to be particularly interested in the details of this new castle. He was, however, an avid matchmaker, he and his wife both, and the mention of Terragone’s being married caught his fancy.
“Married?” he asked with interest, “Do you have your eye on any young lady yet?”
Kasteyn was only about four years older than Terragone, but he had married very young and felt himself an expert on the whole business now.
“No, not yet.” Terragone answered shortly.
“No one! Not one single sweet girl has won your handsome heart? You must have hundreds just swooning over you and you can't just choose one of them? Well, we'll fix that.” and he rubbed his hands together.
But Terragone knew that Kasteyn was in jest. Kasteyn might be older and a bit more experienced and a he was already the king of his country, but Terragone came from one of the most old and renowned lineages in the world. Gailli was the most prosperous, the wealthiest, and strongest of all the nations of their world, and it was an indisputable and unchallenged fact that he, the future king of that country, was far above any other noble in any other country. A jest of this nature, was a jest only, and Kasteyn knew it as well as Terragone.
—————
“Terragone,” Sir Lavison exclaimed as met his highness after the morning meal the next day, “they're going to let me go with them to the battle front!”
Terragone smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. “You did not ask me first, I don't think.”
“I knew you'd say it was fine.”
“Quite assumptous these days, Sir Lavison.”
“It's not my fault if I'm being overly assuming. The king's not here to keep me in line.” Sir Lavison smirked.
“Well, you know I'll have to go with you then. You're not to be trusted out on your own.” and Terragone smirked a smirk as close to the one Sir Lavison had smirked.
“Posh.” and then Sir Lavison suddenly frowned. James had used that word, and they both knew it.
“When do we leave?” Terragone asked after a moment.
“Tomorrow at dawn, when the armies set out. I'm not of course to do any fighting myself, just observe some of Kasteyn's new war tactics in action. But quite honestly, I'm not sure Kasteyn will let you go. You're too valuable. Can you imagine the trouble he’d get into if you were injured here?” and Sir Lavison broke a smile again.
Terragone just lifted one fine brow and gazed out the window at the hustle and bustle of people far below.
—————
The next day dawned and found both prince and knight on their horses, following the first outset of Kasteyn's army. A relatively small first wave, but this battle was mostly a test of strength and a finding of weakness. It was a full day's hard trek south, and Kasteyn did not accompany this particular regiment. But did he really need to? Wasn't Terragone's presence alone moral support enough to drive his men on? Apparently he thought so, though he did express some concern at first of Terragone going at all. But, in the end, he had little sway over the decisions of the noble.
The two now stood on a plateau overlooking the battlefield. Both faces were serious as they watched the march of the armies across the plains below them. They were both utterly silent and it would seem all their early excitement had died away. There were others with them on the plateau. Commanders and captains taking note of strategy for the future battles they would get to lead. From their height they could hear but dimly the clash and clatter of metal as the two tiny armies met and fought. Kasteyn's army advanced slowly, though overall, it was a fairly even match.
Sir Lavison tore his eyes away from the scene and turned his horse, “What was I thinking? They're dying out there and I come to spectate?”
Terragone also turned his horse from the scene and shook his head, “It is war, my friend. People die, and all those brave men knew that.”
“Yes, well, perhaps I didn’t.”
“Did you not think there would be loss in war?” and Terragone notified one of the commanders that they were leaving and they began to descend down the steep incline.
“No, but I hate spectating, as if it were sport. I'd feel much better if I was down there fighting.”
“It's not our fight.”
“Does that matter?”
“How are you going to be able to fight your own battles if you've spent yourself fighting others’?”
“Who said we'd even have our own battles? It seems cowardly to abandon a fight only because we may have to fight again in some unknown future.”
“Don't pretend to know the nature of the world. There are some battles that have nothing to do with men and blood and territory.”
Sir Lavison shook his head in confusion, “Sometimes I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. You may have your reasons, but I’m afraid I have to disagree with you in this case.”
Terragone shrugged and remained silent.
They had just reached the the valley floor when they were stopped suddenly by a messenger who was riding up from across the plains.
“Prince Terragone.” the man shouted out.
Terragone quickly rode out to meet the man and took the slit of paper handed him, “What are you doing here, Diame? You're supposed to be in Gailli.” but he didn’t wait for an answer as he stopped to read the note. His face clouded as
he read and he looked up to the messenger, “When did you start for me?”
“Almost two weeks ago, and I’ve been riding as hard and as fast as I can. The mountain pass slowed me considerably though, more than I expected.”
Terragone turned to Sir Lavison who had ridden up by then and was trying to read the note over his shoulder.
“What is it?”
“The queen.” Terragone said shortly, his face a perfect storm, “I have to go now before it's too late. I’ll return with Diame. You and the others start back today too, but at your own pace.”
Sir Lavison nodded in agreement, though his heart was heavy.
Without any further instruction, Terragone galloped off back towards the castle to say a fleeting farewell to Kasteyn and collect whatever he might need for the trip home.
Sir Lavison looked back up to the plateau they'd just left, and then to the two retreating figures disappearing into the distance and the clouds of dust they were kicking up.
“Well then,” he said to himself, “I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks.” and he prodded his own horse after them, though not quite in the same hurry. He had a company to assemble for a long, hard trip back to their homeland, but he wasn’t at all looking forward to it.
18
James Looking for His Place
James, of course, was skeptical of everything the great wizard had to say. Why should such a powerful man send for him just to see if he could be of any assistance? And the way he spoke of James’ purpose made James suspect he knew more than he let on. Or, he knew nothing and simply wanted to appear wise. And was the ‘indestructible’ reference to some god? And should that worry James?
It did please and flatter James however, that that Aldarin put himself at his service. James guessed there were probably limits to what he could ask for, but even so, the offer warmed him.
For the time being, all he could think of to ask for was a pony or donkey, something smallish, to carry him down that long road to Clangham when it was time. Frederick, much to his sorrow, was still with the company, who he guessed were probably nearing Falair by now. Aldarin said he would happily arrange for a replacement pony.
Rolling Thunder Page 20
