Zellohar

by Chris A. Jackson

  "So, are you from a northern tribe? What's your name?"

  The big man's eyes widened, startled with her question, then his mien relaxed, a broad smile slowly spreading across his lips.

  "I am sorry. I sometimes forget that the customs of city folk require names to be exchanged. I am called Jundagarro, which means 'swift foot' in my tribe's tongue. Many find that too long, so you may call me Jundag. My tribe is far to the north and west, but they move a great deal."

  Avari introduced herself and Shay, explaining that they had only arrived in Beriknor the day before, but had already worn out their welcome. Jundag agreed that, even for city folk, the people of Beriknor were pointedly unfriendly.

  "Especially those strutting city guardsmen," he said, quaffing the remainder his tankard and pouring another. "Not a sharp blade in the bunch, I would wager."

  Avari sipped her drink carefully, having vowed that she would be more prudent in her drinking from now on. After two mornings waking in strange beds, the lesson had finally sunk in.

  "You said earlier that you had business that we might be interested in," Shay cut in, earning another barely tolerant smile from Jundag.

  "Yes," said Avari, with a curt glance at Shay. "As I said, we've worn out our welcome, and I for one need to increase the weight of my purse."

  "Yes, it is best to discuss such matters before too much ale is poured." Jundag lifted his tankard. "To business then!" he said, draining his tankard in one pull then setting it aside.

  "I have been in this area for some time. I scout for caravans and occasionally hunt down criminals for the local militia. The merchants are conniving and greedy, and I would rather be trussed up and used for ogre bait than to have to deal with the city guard more than necessary." He grimaced, then shrugged and smiled as he continued. "But the hunt is rewarding, and the pay does keep food and drink in my belly.

  "When I returned from my last job, one of the guildmasters approached me about some recent trouble. It seems that farms to the east have been raided and the farmers have not been able to deliver the promised produce and livestock to the guild. Now, the merchants care nothing for the safety of these farmers and their families, but the delays have left the guild short in its quota. Although the farms near the city are taxed and protected by the noble House of Beriknor," sarcasm fairly dripped from these last words, "the outlying farms are only protected through their contracts with the guild. Now these farmers are demanding action, or they will hold back more deliveries."

  Jundag chuckled heartily.

  "Of course, the guild doesn't tell the story like that, but one hears things if one listens. The guild has contracted me to scout beyond the farms to determine the number, location and fortifications of the raiders. They will pay well for this information, so they can contract the militia to destroy the entire band of thieves. But until they have these details, mounting a large force would be too expensive.

  "I have been searching the city for an able companion, but have found nothing but dandies and unskilled drunkards. I had just about given up and decided to make the journey alone, when I saw you defeat those four in the tavern. To be honest, barring myself and a few of the ranking guardsmen, you are the best sword I have seen in this town."

  Avari flushed at his compliment, taking another sip of her wine to hide her embarrassment. She knew she was skilled, but it pleased her to an uncommon degree to hear his praise.

  "Well, lady?" he asked. "The guildsmen are fairly honest, as far as merchants go. They agreed to a small advance to help with the cost of the trip, with the rest due upon our return. The whole thing will probably take no more than a tenday."

  Avari glanced up from her cup to see both Jundag and Shay looking at her expectantly.

  "Well, it sounds promising to me, but I can't answer for my friend," she replied. "Shay, what do you think?"

  "Wait!" Jundag objected before Shay could say a word. "I do not mean to offend, but I was only asking the lady's assistance. This will be a hard trip with winter coming on, and I have no need of a skinny half-elf with the hands of a city dweller, and not so much as sword-skill."

  Avari decided that she hoped to never see Shay angry again. His gaze narrowed, locking onto Jundag with a glare so acidic that she swore the big man's beard would catch fire. The tips of his ears flushed red and the muscles of his jaw writhed like coiling snakes. When his hand slipped to the head of his hammer, Avari knew she must act quickly to avoid a fight. She clapped a hand on the top of Shay's weapon and flashed a grin.

  "First of all," she began, looking at Jundag and keeping her hand on Shay's hammer, "if you know elves, you know their size is no fair estimation of their strength."

  "Yes, but—"

  "Second, you are correct in thinking that Shay is not a true warrior; he is a priest of Tem the Balancer. And one thing my father always said is that it's always good to have a priest along if there's any chance of trouble. If you have doubts, notice that the wound I received this afternoon is completely healed."

  The tribesman cast a nervous glance at her leg and opened his mouth, but Avari cut him off once more.

  "And third, if you think he has no weapon skill, look at this!"

  Avari jerked Shay's hammer from his belt and slammed it onto the table. She snatched her goblet as it teetered from the impact and sat back, sipping her wine. Shay stared at her then glanced over at Jundag, whose incredulous look was almost comical. The half-elf smiled at the effect of her vigorous defense of him, then leaned back and crossed his arms. Several patrons, as well as the barkeep and maids, cast nervous glances at the table, ready to dive out of the way should a fight start.

  "Go ahead and look at it," Avari continued, "and tell me honestly if you think such a weapon is only for show. But remember this also, if you hire me, you hire him."

  Jundag picked up the hammer, his eyebrows arching at the weight. He traced a thumbnail over gouges along the haft where sword strokes had been parried and noted the dents on the head where armor had buckled under its impact. The tribesman handed the weapon back to Shay haft first and filled both of their tankards. He lifted his and held it out in toast.

  "Lift your mug with me, half-elf, and know something few men have known, the apology of Jundagarro, son of Tarrendaer the Black Wind." Shay lifted his tankard, and they clanked together. Both men then drained their mugs in one tilt and slammed them to the table. Jundag laughed so loudly the room shook, and Shay found himself laughing along.

  "It seems, friend Avari, that I not only underestimated his ability, but also his thirst!" This brought more laughs, some from the surrounding tables.

  "So what will it be, my new friends? Will you come along, or must I defeat the entire bandit kingdom myself?"

  Avari looked at Shay, but this time there was no mistaking his answer.

  "I suppose we must go along, if for no other reason than to heal the poor bandits after this mountainous lump of muscle has beaten them all to bloody ruin. Besides, I, too, am in need of a heavier purse before I continue my travels."

  Jundag smiled broadly and slapped the table hard.

  "Good! The three of us it is, then." He stood and tossed a small pouch onto the table. It jingled. "Buy what you need from that and meet me at the center square fountain at high-sun tomorrow. We will try to be beyond the border farms by nightfall."

  Without further instructions, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Avari and Shay in silence. Avari's fingers crept to the pouch the big man had dropped, untied the drawstring, and hefted it so she could peer inside. Air rushed into her lungs at the sight, and she pulled the bag under the table, pouring the contents into her hand for Shay to see. His eyes widened as twenty gold imperials jingled into her palm.

  "Well," he began, "if this is the advance, then we should both be well settled when we return from this venture."

  "And I'll be able to repay you properly," Avari said as she put the coins back into the pouch, holding it as if it would leap from her hands. She'd never seen
so much money in her life.

  "Your elegant defense of my honor is repayment enough, my lady," he teased, assuming their benefactor's accent. "By the way," Shay looked at her from the corner of his eye, "how do you know that I don't merely carry my hammer as show?"

  "I don't," Avari replied, fixing him with a steady gaze. "But I don't think you are the type who does things for show. Besides, father also always said to travel in the company of friends, and besides him, you're the first real friend I've ever had."

  Shay flushed at her words, covering his reaction with another sip of ale. "I'm touched, Avari," he said, his voice huskier than his usual tenor. "I, too, have been long without the company of someone whom I could truly call friend."

  Blast dis damned snow to da Nine Hells! Flurnag thought as he sunk into another drift. A snort of laughter from the orc behind him reached his keen ears, eliciting a snarl. Three-inch tusks and his belt knife gleamed in the sparse starlight. The lesser orc stiffened at his leader's temper and took a step back, bumping into the next in line and starting a series of grunted curses as the entire troop came to a halt. Flurnag noted the other's fear with satisfaction. His troops were finally recognizing his authority, which was good. He did not want to have to kill any more of them for their insolence.

  "Since you t'ink sloggin' trough dis slop is funny, Glorsh, you can take da front spot da rest of da way back."

  The smaller orc grumbled, but moved to comply. He knew that the lead spot was hardest, but he also knew the crows would be feeding on his guts if he refused. The line began moving, but stumbled to a halt again moments later. Glorsh pointed into the gloom of the surrounding forest where several shadowy shapes could be seen in the patches of moonlight. They moved low to the ground, awkward in the deep snow.

  "Just wolves," said Flurnag. "Dey won't bodder us. Wolves are cowards. We're too large a group fer dem."

  The others grunted agreement, but still eyed the lupine shapes as they resumed their march. More wolves appeared in the shadows, and a yelp from the orc bringing up the rear indicated that several were closing from behind, using the patrol's trail to move through the deep snow.

  The line stopped, several orcs drawing weapons. Flurnag eyed the situation; there were more wolves than orcs, he thought, at least three for each of the twelve orcs in his group. That did not concern him much; wolves rarely attacked in an organized fashion, preferring to pick off stragglers. Besides, his troops were well trained and could handle that many wolves.

  "Juggax," he called to one in his troop, "shoot one of 'em. Dey're brave because dey're starvin'. If we kill one, da rest'll eat him and leave us alone."

  The theory was sound. He had learned it from an old orc who had said that most wolves, except dire wolves, of course, only attacked large prey when they were near starvation.

  Juggax cocked the heavy crossbow he had been carrying and fitted a short black shaft to the string. Taking careful aim, he loosed the shaft into the night. But before any could see a result from his shot, an arrow cracked through the back of the bowman's helmet. The bent head exited his left eye and he fell to the snow without a sound. The others stared dumbly for an instant, wondering how the orc had managed to shoot himself in the back of the head, before another explanation struck home.

  "AMBUSH!" bellowed Flurnag, drawing his sword.

  The orcs snapped into battle formation, each drawing a sword and readying a shield. One raised a crossbow for another shot at the advancing wolves, but was cut down by two arrows, their fletching protruding from his chest not a handbreadth apart.

  "Swords only!" snapped Flurnag. He brandished his blade and screamed in the common tongue, "Come and fight, cowards!"

  A shrill three-toned whistle split the night and wolves exploded from the woods. Fully five times the number that had been visible before now hurtled toward them from all directions. The ones already in the open waited for the wave to catch up, then joined in to make a solid mass of fur and bared fangs.

  They crashed into the orcs as a single huge beast with over a hundred pair of slashing jaws. As squeals of terror and pain rolled over the snow, a slim figure looked on with approval.

  There would be meat tonight.

  She propped her bow and quiver carefully in the crook of a tree and loped off to the feast.

  CHAPTER 9

  Darkness and silence still blanketed the Roving Minstrel when sleep fled from Avari and refused to return. She rose and dressed, then sat on the window bench and gazed down at the peaceful streets. The snowfall from the day before had been ground into a sea of frozen mud in the streets, but blanketed the rooftops, glistening as if thousands of tiny diamonds were scattered across its surface. Chimneys poked through like stumps in a snow-laden forest.

  Avari sighed. At home after a snowfall like this she would wander through the fields, delighting in being the first to touch the pristine surface. She sometimes pretended that she was far, far away from civilization, however primitive, and that the white world was totally new and hers to explore.

  Well, she thought, this world is new to me. But her explorations to this point had fallen far short of her imagination.

  A muffled clatter of pots and kettles wrested Avari from her thoughts. The kitchen staff were preparing for another busy day. She glanced back out the window just as the first rays of sunlight crept over the rooftops, turning the glistening blanket into a dazzling cloak of light across the city.

  As if the gods had declared this town cleansed of all its dirt and sins, she thought, laughing lightly. It would take more than a little snow to accomplish that.

  "But I'm leaving in the company of friends today," she announced to the wash basin on the night table. She looked around the small room, checking her equipment, weapons and spare clothing. "You can never be too ready for a trip," she quoted another of her father's lessons, surprised that her grief had diminished. There was still sorrow, but also a comforting feeling of peace, both for her father and for herself.

  "Father," she said in a whisper, "I'll miss you terribly, but I know you're with mother now, and you've wanted that for so long. I'll remember your lessons, and I'll make you proud."

  Avari sat quietly for a few more moments then smiled as a beam of sunlight ventured into the room to warm her face, as gentle and reassuring as a kiss. She suddenly felt as if her parents were sending her the message that they would always be watching over her. Bursting with a new sense of hope, Avari gathered her things and started downstairs to meet Shay.

  Avari grinned in satisfaction at beating Shay to breakfast as he eased himself down the stairs. He gripped the banister for support, and shuffled over to the table, returning her smile, though it resembled more of a grimace. Avari, noting his pained air, nudged his chair out from the table. Shay grasped the back and lowered himself with a wince.

  "How will I be able to keep up with you on this journey?" he asked. "I am not even fit for a stroll around town."

  "If you're fit enough to put up with my foolish behavior the last two days, you're fit enough for a hike to the hills," Avari assured him, pushing a pot of porridge and a steaming cup of blackbrew toward him. "Have something to eat. It'll give you energy. Besides, I thought you did a lot of traveling."

  "Traveling, yes. But usually by ship or carriage, sometimes on horseback." Shay shook his head. "I have grown accustomed to a bed at night."

  "Well, after a few nights in the forest and open fields, you'll despair at ever having to sleep in a city again."

  Shay looked doubtful, but did not contradict her. Abruptly, Avari leaned beneath the table, but by the time he peered under to see what she was looking for, she bobbed back up.

  "First thing we'll do is get you a decent pair of boots. The ones you have may do well on cobbles, but you'll need something warmer and higher for this trip. By the way," she added, "why didn't you heal your feet if they're in such pain?"

  Shay smiled and shook his head. "The gift of healing is a blessing from Tem the Balancer, to be used in time
of great need, not to succor carelessness. It was my fault I misjudged my footwear yesterday; I will bear the small pain as a penance."

  "Will you be able to hike today, or should we ask Jundag to postpone the journey?"

  "Gods, no!" he blurted. "That won't be necessary. In fact, the salve I applied to my feet is working. They feel much better. Besides, would you be able to convince Jundag for a second time that I would be more of a help than a hindrance?"

  Avari smiled in relief at being acquitted from that task. As they dug into their breakfasts, she ran down a list of provisions that she had prepared and edited it aloud, rejecting this and adding that. Her experience in the wilderness was considerable, and she had a fair idea of what they would need. Shay nodded and grunted to her questions, but deferred to her for the most part. Avari insisted he have a second helping of porridge, and by the time they were ready to go, Shay told her that his feet felt much better.

  They left the inn before most of the other patrons had even risen from their beds. Shay left a handsome tip to be split between the maids and kissed the hands of the two girls on the morning shift, leaving them blushing and near tears.

  As they worked their way from shop to shop, picking out the items that Avari insisted were necessary, it became evident that the advance money would be more than enough to outfit any four travelers. Finally, when Avari was satisfied with their acquisitions, Shay pulled her into a shop displaying a shield and crossed swords on its signboard.

  "We have enough money," he explained as she started to protest. "Besides, what good is all this equipment if you take another, more serious, wound to your leg, or a blow to the head? I may not always be on the spot to heal you."

  Avari nodded, chagrinned at overlooking one of her father's most basic lessons: "No matter how great a warrior's skill, without the proper protection, a blow to the head can end the most promising career." Her shame turned to wonder, however, as they entered the shop. Rack upon rack of weapons and armor lined the walls and counters. The shopkeeper strode into view from a back room, wiping his hands on a towel. The man was only slightly taller that Shay, but easily twice as broad. He smiled and offered a beefy hand.