The Warder

by D K Williamson

  “Because when I was your age I fell in with cutpurses and thieves. I’m too old to learn a new trade.”

  “You was a castaside?”

  “What’d I just say?”

  The boy considered Erie for several seconds. “I don’t know about this.”

  “Fine. Stay on the streets then. Die before you see twenty years.”

  The kid glared and then looked away with a shake of his head. “He paying wages?”

  “He is. Not much, but in addition to coin you get a roof, food, and learning.”

  The boy pondered the idea for a few seconds. “Fine. I’ll try it.”

  “Such gratitude. Your welcome.”

  The kid waved off Erie with an angry gesture before smiling and walking toward the tavern. “We’ll see about this,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll hear from me if it’s muck.”

  “A thief errant,” the bard said with a broad gesture. “That’s our Josip. Next he’ll save a damsel in distress and seek a dragon to slay.”

  Erie joined the group and eyed Dissy and the abbess with his usual suspicion.

  Gesturing between the four with him, Dech said, “Gentlemen, meet Dissy and Abbess Dealan. Ladies, I present you Josip Erie and….”

  “Mayhaps Bard,” the man once called Thrillwort replied.

  Dech raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re using now?”

  “You object?”

  “Not at all. Shall we, Mayhaps?”

  “Is there something the rest of us are missing?” Dissy asked.

  “Due to circumstances beyond his control, the bard here finds himself in need of a new name,” Josip said. “One unknown to Sir Dech.”

  “Why Mayhaps you wonder?” the bard said. “I once used many a mayhap in my speech, mayhaps if you’ll forgive the plural.”

  “And you are a bard?” Dealan asked.

  “Not merely a bard, but it will do as a name. There are Smiths, Millers, and Wrights, why not Bard?”

  “Are you ready to travel?” Dech said.

  Erie swung aboard his mount and took up the rope equipping the pack pony that waited alongside. “I am now,” the thief said as he patted his horse on the neck. “He’s a veteran traveler, not blazingly fast, but tough and hardy. In the time I’ve spent with him, seems to me he’ll be a fine road horse.”

  Mayhaps smiled after he scaled aboard his brown beast. “You wouldn’t believe how much we spent on wine, women, rooms, wild—”

  “I do not want to know,” Dech said with a shake of his head.

  “Ill gotten gains are best disposed of quickly,” Erie said.

  “I repeat, I do not want to know.”

  Erie sighed loudly. “Just like old times… except for the sister there,” he said with a gesture at Dealan.

  “Abbess,” Dech corrected.

  “Did you bring her along to scold us for our sins?”

  “He did not,” Dealan said. “Though I can if you wish.”

  “No need for that,” Mayhaps said. “We’ll keep the moral code violations to a minimum.”

  “You work with these two?” Dissy asked.

  “Not since he began wearing that shield,” Mayhaps said with some distaste. “Before then, yes. Quite the adventures. Many a time I had to rescue Dech and his fellows from peril.”

  Dealan laughed softly. “Are we to believe this, Warder?”

  “If you wish. He spins tales for coin. My experience tells me to suspect embellishment in most claims he makes.”

  Erie laughed as well. “And omissions.”

  “So what mission do we undertake?” Mayhaps asked. “Some dreary slog for the church?”

  “That and more,” Dealan said.

  “Tell us of this more. Church folk pay terribly for tales set to music. I need fodder for the masses. Knights slaying dragons or dragons slaying knights, that sort of thing.”

  “Malig Tancar threatens,” she replied.

  “And there’s the matter of a coming Cataclysm,” Dech added.

  Erie grimaced. “You asked for more and you got it, Bard.”

  “You can depart if you wish,” Dech offered.

  “I told you weeks ago, I’m your man,” the thief replied. “Thief I may be, but I keep my word.”

  “A Cataclysm?” Mayhaps said. “A man in my profession simply must come along. Songs and sagas await.”

  “Where are we bound?” Erie asked.

  “Cruxford then elsewhere I would guess,” Dech replied.

  “I’ve been to many an elsewhere,” Erie said. “Good ones and bad. Let us proceed.”

  . . .

  Mayhaps dropped an armful of wood near the small fire in the center of the camp before brushing off his arms and rolling down the puffed sleeves of his striped shirt.

  “Quite the woodsman,” Dissy said.

  Dech laughed quietly. “The man is versatile.”

  “And mysterious it seems,” Dealan said. “We have a thief who maintains his name and a bard who requires more than one. It is intriguing.”

  “It truly is odd,” Mayhaps said as he took a seat among the others. “Without life’s strangeness where would I be? Have we not all had to follow paths we never intended?”

  Each of those in the group nodded.

  “Erie is the true oddity,” Mayhaps continued, opening the case holding his lute. “Pursuing a profession fraught with pitfalls yet he continues on, identity, mind, and body intact. I began a new calling when I was more boy than man, one I still do to this day, but one that rarely brings trouble to others as it does for me.”

  “I do not think it is the calling that brings trouble,” Dech said.

  Mayhaps laughed. “I once thought that as well, but despite all my efforts to change… no, it’s the calling. It is now as it was when I started.”

  “What were you called then?” Dissy asked.

  “Josip and I know his given name, but he doesn’t use it any longer, nor should we,” Dech said.

  “A change of titles and names, it’s something Dech and I have in common,” Bard said, “but mine’s by choice… more or less.”

  “More or less?” Diz said.

  “Yes. I chose this because any other choice would have me more or less dead, castrated, or worse by now.”

  “Worse?”

  “Worse is always an option.”

  “I suppose it is. How long have you known Dech and Josip?”

  “Dech was just a youthful knight gaining renown upon the tourney circuit when we met. A few years older than I, but not well versed in the performing arts, a field on which I sought to educate he and his fellows. He tourneyed with two others, Gerald and Allan, but soon Gerald was forced to take on responsibilities elsewhere. We crossed paths with Josip not long after.” He sighed loudly. “A fine time. How long have you known him?”

  “He rode with Sir Allan the first time we met. I was a castaside and still a child.”

  “An upbringing we share then,” Erie said. He looked to the warder. “How is it the bard and I never crossed paths with Dissy before… well, before your current role?”

  “She lived in Shadow then. As I recall, the two of you each had a vested interest in avoiding the place.”

  “That we did,” Mayhaps said. “And we do still I believe.”

  “Your faith is not misplaced,” Erie replied.

  “I too have reason to stay clear of there,” Dissy said.

  Mayhaps laughed and looked at Dech. “It’s not likely a place you spend much time either given Duke Frederick’s misplaced ire.”

  “It’s not. Duke Frederick wouldn’t act against the king’s wishes, but I am not eager to provoke him.”

  Dissy was tempted to ask what Mayhaps meant, but the expression on Dech’s face led her to refrain.

  “What of you, Mayhaps Bard, man of multiple names?” Dealan said. “You said you are not merely a bard. A performer of some notice?”

  “Notice?” Dech said. “Yes, but notorious is an equally apt term.”

 
; The bard laughed. “True enough I suppose. I am not simply a bard. I am a lover of beautiful things, but above that a poet, skald, jongleur, minstrel, tale-teller, satirist, actor, trouvère, and possibly an ex-troubadour.”

  “Troubadour? Would you not need to be of some noble rank? That would contradict you—”

  “And who is to say I am not of noble blood?” He smiled and looked warily back and forth before stage whispering, “I’ll let you in on a terrible secret. Noble blood looks precisely the same as that of a peasant. Truly! I’ve seen both and have quite the keen eye.”

  He plucked a string on his lute. “Noble or not, music cares only that it be done well.”

  To Dech’s surprise, Dealan laughed heartily.

  “And you, Abbess,” Mayhaps said, “are you not more than that? A wizard, yes?”

  “A wizard, no. No grimoire for me, a sorceress by nature and training.”

  Mayhaps smiled. “An abbess that can rain down fire from the heavens without need of a spell book. Dech has assembled quite a troop.”

  “I suppose he has at that,” Dealan replied as she cast her gaze on the warder and gestured at the others. “As you seem to do in most things, when you decide to break strictures, you do not take half-measures.”

  Before Dech could respond, Dealan continued. “The requirement of breaking with our pasts should not always apply I feel. Often it is a necessity, but I know it can also be a detriment. You have acquaintances of value and character. I had little of the sort in my previous life. Early on, it was because of the company I kept. Later, my arrogance kept those of character from me. That makes obeying the rule simple and effortless. These people are loyal to you and you them. How else would such a time pass and the friendships remain? They are willing to risk all to aid in the fight to stop the Cataclysm? It seems that way and you’ll hear no condemnation from me.”

  “Risk all?” Mayhaps said. “I do not remember that coming up before. Maybe I need to reevaluate my involvement here.”

  Dealan laughed and looked at Dech. “I told you, our pasts echo forward. Do you see now?”

  “I see the echo, but I do not know why. The reason for these convergences may be perilous.”

  “We have all faced peril,” Dissy said. “I see it in everyone here, even the abbess. We all know peril yet none of us packs to leave. If Dealan’s belief is true, we each are here for a reason. Those in the Brosalean speak of convergences often.”

  “Our lovely ranger speaks well,” Mayhaps said. “Something brought all of us together… and rapidly so.”

  “Are you talking destiny, Mayhaps?” Dech asked.

  “Of course. It makes a fine excuse for failure. It’s certainly more palatable than admitting error,” he said with a smile. “We might be on a course to stop a Cataclysm, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like an epic undertaking. If you pursue the epic, well old friend, you pursue destiny.”

  “Or an early death,” Erie said.

  “Well, we’re all destined for the grave sooner or later.”

  Erie conceded the point with a shrug. “When did you start believing in such things?”

  “At the same time I learned audiences adore tales of destiny.”

  . . .

  Chapter 21

  “We’ve all fought against one another at some point and time,” the mercenary captain said. “Fought alongside one another as well.”

  “It’s simple, Malig Tancar,” another said. “If we take on the job, we fight against whatever foe you point us toward.”

  “Unless stated otherwise in the contract,” added a third. “What are you offering?”

  “We all know the answer to that,” a fourth mercenary captain said with irritation. “You’d have us fight the forces of Arataine.”

  “That I would,” Malig replied. “The question is cost.”

  “No,” the fourth captain said. “That comes after we know what you’d have us do. Should your brother meet us on the field with the host of Arataine at his back, you’d best have considerably more force than you muster out there,” he said with a point at the window where acres of ground were crowded with preparations for war. “We fight for profit. We do not commit suicide for coin.”

  Malig laughed loudly, his eyes flashing wildly. “Plans are underway to ensure most of Arataine’s efforts will be occupied elsewhere when we cross the border. It will be Duke Philip and his paltry forces we oppose initially. The host that prepares out there is not all that accompany me. Allies from elsewhere will join in due time. Those, along with your free companies will carry me to the throne. Once there, I foresee more work for the likes of you.”

  “You speak our language,” the first captain said. “If you’ve the coin and an agreeable contract, you’ve one free company at your disposal.”

  “Two,” said another.

  “Three.”

  “Four,” the last said after a short pause.

  Malig laughed again. “Then let us forge an agreement.”

  . . .

  Dech’s ad hoc squad rode a southerly course, five people and eight horses making good time on their way toward Cruxford. The dirt road they followed was a rare path Dech had never traversed before in his journeys. Approaching a hamlet in midmorning, they slowed as they came to an odd stone statue at the side of the road. A metal placard embedded in a stone post next to it read:

  Permanently set to stone by Archmage Leear.

  Dealan brought her mount to a stop and climbed from her horse. “It was thought all of these had been dealt with. An error I’ll correct.”

  Mayhaps gestured at the placard. “That says it’s permanent.”

  Dealan scowled in irritation at the bard. “Words on a plate do not make truth. Archmage Leear was nothing of the sort. He was a gifted liar with a moderate amount of skill. Nothing more.”

  Mayhaps smiled and pointed at the statue. “A moderate amount of skill can do that?”

  “It can if one has a staff or wand capable of casting such a spell. Leear’s skill was deceit and the use of the wand, nothing more. Turn a few people to stone and travel from place to place extorting coin by threat and move on, that was his game.”

  “That poor fellow is still alive?” the bard asked with a point at the statue.

  “Very likely. The spell places the victim in a form of suspension. Let me work.”

  Dealan placed her hands on the statue closing her eyes and bowing her head, staying that way for several minutes. Raising her head, she stared intently at the rock and mouthed silent words. The statue shook, dust from its surface stirring into a cloud that obscured the abbess and the form before her. The dust hung in the air for a few seconds before fading away without descending to the ground and revealing Dealan and a dark-haired man of middle age standing where the statue rested before.

  The man blinked in confusion as he looked at those gathered near him. He gaped at the area nearby before pausing to read the placard.

  “How do you feel?” Dealan asked.

  “Angry,” the man said. “Where’s the mage? Not you, the little man in robes carrying a staff. He said he’d be the one to lift the spell and pay me for my trouble. I’d a feeling he’d grieve me. That plaque proves it. Where’d he go?”

  “He was hung over twenty years past,” Dealan said.

  “Twenty years?” the man said. “What year be it now?”

  “Twelve fifty-one. Spring,” Mayhaps said.

  “Fifty-one?” the man exclaimed. “That rotten little…. I’ve been a rock for near twenty-five years then.” He looked at his hands and felt his face. Examining his clothes and tugging at them he said, “I’ve not aged! Not a bit! Hopefully my wife is dead… or at least remarried.”

  “After a quarter of a century that’s your biggest worry?” Mayhaps said.

  “It’s not been but a blink of an eye to me, boy, and I take it you’re not married?”

  “I am not.”

  “Thought so. Marry a woman the likes of which I
did and you might have some say, but you didn’t so shut your gob and get out of my way. I’ve not a worry at all now. Anyone asks, you never saw me,” the man said heading up the road away from the hamlet.

  “The town’s the other way,” Mayhaps called after him.

  “I know full well,” the man said over his shoulder. He kicked up his heels and laughed. “I know full well!”

  “Is that a common reaction?” Mayhaps asked as Dealan swung into the saddle.

  She shook her head. “He may be the last of Leear’s victims. I know he was the first I have encountered. Most perplexing.”

  The group stopped in the hamlet to water and feed their mounts before continuing. By noon, they came to the road that would take them to Cruxford. Not far south of the turn, they encountered a rider who waved at them with a stump arm as they closed. Dech and Dissy immediately recognized him as Bertrand Phidias from Houda Arms in Carpen. They stopped to speak.

  “Where are you bound?” Dech asked.

  “North to see an old friend, then to that fortress of yours if they’ll have me.”

  “I believe they’ll welcome you. Did your employer decide he no longer needed you?”

  “I decided I no longer needed him. If these rumors of an invasion I keep hearing are true, I can do more helping the order than making money for a rich man. The order will be the vanguard or the reserve if it comes. Either way, they’ll be where it counts. I believe I can help.”

  “I am sure you can,” Dech said. “I’ll write you a letter of introduction.”

  As Dech dismounted and dug writing materials from a saddlebag, Dissy introduced the man to the others. After greeting one another, Phidias gestured at Dissy’s short sword.

  “You still have the arms you acquired I see.”

  “I won’t part with them easily, even if you did sell them for a song.”

  Phidias laughed. “I thought they might fit you. May you put them to good use.”

  “I have already.”

  “I thought as much. May it continue.”

  . . .

  Dech’s group arrived in Cruxford just after midday. Abbess Dealan needed to report to the mage council while Dech did the same at the order house before he visited the king. While the other three originally thought to secure lodgings, Mayhaps elected to accompany Dech.