by RG Long
Her sergeants nodded at one another.
Vera spoke up.
"It seems like an awfully good way to take out the leadership of your movement. Then what is to discourage them from crushing you entirely?"
Mara nodded seriously at their questions.
"These are all things I've taken into consideration. The resistance does not rest upon my shoulders alone and the only ones who are aware of this person are myself and those gathered around this table. I tell you about them to gain your trust. And," she continued, laying the piece of parchment delicately on the table, "They have revealed what I believe to be a very integral piece of information. If nothing else, I will put my own life on the line for the sake of our cause."
At that moment, two very odd looking people came from the room Alec had retrieved the parchment from.
Teresa stood immediately.
"I know you," she said, stunned at their appearance. "Holve spoke of you both."
Urt, the Skrilx, simply bowed. Felicia Stormchaser put her hands on her hips.
"Aye, I don't doubt it. I'm looking forward to speaking with the old rascal. But there's something outside you all need to see."
Teresa noted the seriousness in the tone of the captain her former general had spoken so much of. She was sad to know that terrible news must be passed on shortly.
"Ah, yes," Mara said. "This is my niece Felicity Storran and her... companion. Urt."
"It's Felicia Stormchaser, Mara," she said, annoyed. "I'd prefer not to correct you again. And don't talk about Urt like he's a pet."
Felicia shook her head sending her long braid flying behind her.
Teresa was beginning to think she might have found a kindred spirit.
"Outside. Everyone."
Except for the fact that a former ship captain just gave her a command.
"Let's do as she says," Teresa said, standing to her feet and exiting the room begrudgingly.
From the balcony of the building, she was able to see out over the wall and beyond the defenses of River Head.
Moving slowly over the horizon was a thick billowing black smoke. Before it flew all manner of birds, black as the smoke.
An army was on the move.
And it was heading for Thoran.
25: The Glorious City
Ealrin and his company had seen nothing but farmland for the last two days of walking. They traveled along a dusty road that was flanked by wheat fields on one side, ready for harvest, and a cow pasture on the other. A simple wooden fence lined the cow side of the road, keeping the cattle contained.
"Bah, do these beasts always smell so terrible?" Gorplin asked as he held his hand over his mouth.
Bertrom laughed at the dwarf.
"You get used to it after a time," he said slapping Gorplin on the back, forcing him to take a deep breath.
He gagged on the smell.
"Or at least it begins to bother you less," Bertrom said threw a fit of laughter. "One of the two,"
Ealrin was glad to see him in better spirits. Not that he had said anything that encouraged him. Perhaps it was just that the last few days had been peaceful.
Since leaving Mountain Gate, the party had only seen a handful of people.
Since the two suns had come up this morning, they had begun to see more people tending the fields or taking care of the animals.
A man with a cart rode by, carrying a large load of harvesting wheat.
"How much further till the big city, sir?" Jurrin asked. The halfling was in an exceptionally good mood.
The city of Mountain Gate hadn't impressed the little traveler and he was excited to see an even bigger city.
"Halflings!" the cart driver said. It was a middle-aged man who, upon seeing Jurgon and Jurrin, turned the sour expression on his face to one of delight.
"It's been since my childhood that I've seen one of your people. Had a good friend who was a halfling. He was just my height, until I turned ten that is. Then his family moved away from the farm after that. I haven't seen him since. I wonder if you've ever heard of Max Biggerton?"
Jurrin considered for moment.
"I'm familiar with the surname, sir. But I don't know about anyone named Max."
The cart driver's face fell a little bit.
"Oh well," he said dejectedly. "It's been on thirty years since I've seen him."
He took a deep breath and slapped the reins of his horse to move his cart along.
"Sir?" Jurrin asked again walking a bit to keep up with the cart. "How much farther to get to Beaton? We are on an important mission!"
Ealrin exchanged a quick glance with Lote. He wasn't sure she would appreciate strangers knowing about the aim of their quest just yet.
"A halfling and some others on a quest?" the driver said as he continued to have his horse trot along. "That's not something you see every day."
He scratched the stubble on his chin as if in thought.
"The big city is another day's journey in that direction," he said pointed further up the road. "You should be able to see it by the end of your walk today if you keep a good pace. I hope you brought enough coins to get yourselves inside. A large party like yours might be costly."
"We have to pay to walk into a city?" Tory asked, letting the disgust he felt ooze into his voice. "Whose half-witted idea was that?"
"Walls don't protect themselves, travelers," the man said, rather abruptly. "Safe travels. Hiya!"
The driver and his cart carried on down the road in the opposite direction they were heading.
Ealrin looked around for a moment. Just over the horizon would be the largest city he had ever seen and, potentially, the salvation of Thoran. There was only one problem.
"So how many coins do we have?" Bertrom asked the group, looking around.
Everyone felt his or her pockets tentatively.
Money had not been on the forefront of their minds when they left Thoran.
***
THEY WOKE EARLY THE next morning, after having slept behind a locked barn to shelter them from any potential nighttime threats. A watch was still kept, but for the first time in a few days, Ealrin rotated off the night's watch and enjoyed a good sleep.
On the barn was painted the symbol of Beaton. It was mostly agreed that they shouldn't try to break in and sleep inside of it, lest they cause any issues with the Red Guard sure to be monitoring the area.
Gorplin was still complaining about having to sleep out in the open one last time before reaching a city.
"I could've knocked down the door with a single swing," he had bragged.
Lote shut him down quickly.
"Breaking open a barn just to satisfy your desire to be under a roof instead of the stars isn't going to happen," she had told him. "Make do."
He sulked and stared at the ground, mumbling under his breath. Ealrin couldn't understand the words he was saying, which he was sure Gorplin did on purpose.
The dwarf had become very accustomed to elf ears.
As dawn approached, the company was already on their feet and making their way to the capital city.
In fact, Beaton as a country consisted of only one major city. It was four times the size of Conny, the capital of the Southern Republic, and was nestled next to a very large freshwater lake that could provide for the huge population.
For ages, the city state of Beaton had grown and flourished. Technically, the dwarves to the west and the city held a loose alliance, though neither really bothered the other much with their business. The dwarves were content to keep to themselves, as were the citizens of Beaton.
Aside from their trade, however, the city kept to itself and its own needs.
Lote had told Ealrin that they hardly sailed south to River Head and even less to the Southern Republic.
Now that they had experience with how the politics of the strange country worked in Mountain Gate, Ealrin could at least guess as to why travel to and from the city was so minimal.
As the suns rose, they crested
a hill and before them rose the high walls of Beaton. A river ran to meet the city to the west and several ships could be seen docked along its bank.
"Those are dwarven vessels," Gorplin said with a hint of pride.
The boats reflected the race that built them. Short and wide, they had several rectangular sails that lined the deck. Iron and other metal protected the sides and on the bow was the face of a master craftsman who commissioned the vessel.
Gorplin explained all of this to them as they walked on.
It was nice to not hear him complaining, Ealrin thought.
***
AS THE SUNS BEGAN TO rise higher, heralding the midday, the city loomed closer and closer.
As they rounded one hill and made a turn, they came upon a stretch of field that was burned down. Not a stalk of wheat was left. A lone cow, covered in soot, sniffed at the ground in search of something edible.
“I've heard of burning your field to get rid of weeds,” Bertrom said, perplexed. “But this seems a bit, extensive, don't you think?”
All the way to the river to the west the ground was black. On the eastern horizon they could see the remnants of green. But not much.
“Strange,” Jurgon said.
The halfling was right.
But that wasn't all that was puzzling.
One thing felt very odd to Ealrin, and he finally voiced his thoughts after spending most of the afternoon thinking.
"Has anyone else felt like we should have seen more...people?" he asked.
Jurrin was the first to answer.
"I agree, sir," he replied. “Save for that man with his cart, we've only seen a few people working the farm. But even they have been sparse. I wonder why that is, sir?”
“I'm not sure, little Master,” Gaflion said. “But it warrants caution from us.”
Ealrin thought so, too.
As they continued to walk, they did indeed see more people outside the city gates.
All of them wore red uniforms and metal breastplates with the insignia of the Red Guard. Each carried a spear in his hand and a sword at his belt. And not a single female was amongst their ranks.
A troop of soldiers marched by them, heading east on the dusty road. They marched in rows of four and forced the companions to stand in the grass for a moment. They were prevented from going into the fields, however. The small fence had continued to grow into more and more defensive structure on both sides of the road now. Ever since lunch it had looked more and more intimidating.
“Is that for keeping the cows in or us out?” Tory asked, knocking on the wood that made up the fence. It was slated and head high, but only left a finger width in-between the boards.
“Maybe both,” Ealrin answered.
The fences only left enough room for the company to walk eight wide. It was all their number was, but after roaming open fields for so long, it felt very cramped. It bothered some more than others.
“Why do you walk so close?” Tory asked Gorplin.
“Because you keep edging closer to me. Dwarves walk in straight lines,” he replied.
“Move over,” Tory said as he shoved Gorplin aside.
“Move yourself!” he replied as he made a tackle maneuver at him.
They both hit the ground and landed at Lote's feet.
“If you two don't quiet down and learn to walk without fighting,” she said. “I'll bring you both with me to the elves up north and make you march in silence. Get up.”
“You oughtn't bother the lady, Gorplin, sir,” Jurrin said as he helped him to his feet.
Ealrin grabbed Tory and set him right.
“I'd listen to the halfling,” he said with a smile to them both.
It wasn't long after that when the party found themselves at the gates of the glorious city.
Several of the Red Guard eyed them suspiciously as they approached.
Lote looked back at the group, glaring at Gorplin for a moment, and then said, "Let me do the talking."
The huge wall around the city was at least four stories high. From the road they walked on they could see how the gate opened up to allow ships to come in and dock inside the city.
This particular door that they were in front of had large wooden panels that were reinforced with iron. They remained shut tight.
"Welcome travelers," a guard with a red feather in his helmet said to them as they approached. "It's been sometime since we have had visitors to the city."
It was very clear that this man regarded Gaflion as the leader of the party. He looked him in the eye as he spoke.
"We have traveled far and are glad to have made it to your fair city. I will speak as the leader of this party," Lote replied giving him a salute.
Gaflion nodded toward Lote and motioned with his hand, agreeing with her words without speaking himself.
This threw the guard off a moment. He shook his head and then addressed Lote.
"I don't believe I have ever seen a lady elf in armor, let alone leading a group of men."
Ealrin had only known Lote for a short while. But he knew her well enough to feel insulted for her.
Not only was she the highest-ranking soldier among them, she was also the most experienced and skilled.
"Perhaps you have not met many delegations from Thoran," she said with a hint of bitterness and her voice.
"Thoran? What business does a company from our faraway neighbor have here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at them.
"We have been sent with the blessing of our queen to speak with the rulers of Beaton about an urgent issue. We request immediate entrance into your city and an escort to show us to your leaders."
"Hmm," said the guard as he scratched his neck. "This is indeed no small request you make. The leaders of our city have many important issues to see to on a daily basis."
"Then we shall not waste your time and allow them to weigh how urgent our particular matter is. Will you grant us entrance?"
The guard looked at their company for a moment.
Ealrin knew they must look quite suspicious. Especially if he wasn't used to seeing a female elf in armor.
Four humans of various ages with an elf, a dwarf, and two halflings must seem like an odd delegation indeed.
After looking them up and down the guard shook his head and went inside a small gatehouse. He came back with a board, a feather quill, and several pieces of parchment.
"Let's take care of first things first," he said.
Ealrin noted for the first time a bag attached to the man's belt that jingled when he walked.
"Entry into the city is fifteen coins a person. Um," he paused as he looked down at Jurgon and Jurrin, considering the halflings.
"I believe fifteen will cover both of your little companions," he said as he pointed to them with his quill.
They stood speechless for a moment.
Then, forgetting Lote's previous command, they all began talking at once.
“Fifteen a piece!?”
“That's robbery!”
“Just to walk inside this ridiculous city!?”
“You mean one hundred and five coins!?”
“Wait!” he shouted back at them.
They all stopped talking and stood quite still. Ealrin was fuming. They only had 63 pieces of a gold between them. Someone was going to have to wait outside. If the Red Guard even allowed that to happen.
“I thought you said you had urgent news! Surely you would have come prepared for the city tax?” he asked once he had their attention once again.
“The capital of Thoran is a thriving city with a castle and school and wall to protect it, yet there's no charge for simply walking through the gates! We had no idea!” Lote said furiously. “Why ask for fifteen pieces for just one soul to walk into your city?!”
“Well there's the Defense Tax, the Road Preservation Tax, the Army Draft Tax...” he rattled off.
Lote stopped him with a stare.
“Give us a moment,” she said, and stormed off.
The
others followed.
When they were a few paces away they talked in low whispers.
“What kind of thievery is this? The very idea!” Gaflion asked, outraged.
“It doesn't seem like we can convince him otherwise,” Ealrin said.
“But how are we all going to get in?” Gorplin interjected, red faced and angry.
“I can sleep outside, ma'am,” Jurrin offered.
Lote gave him a rare smile.
“Thank you for that, Jurrin. But it shouldn't be necessary. I don't want to tell a common gate guard our purpose just yet. It seemed to scare Fray half to death to even consider us asking Beaton for their army.”
She sighed.
“I suppose we just...”
Her ears perked up and she looked up from the group. Lote stood completely still for a moment. Her eyes seemed to stare far off.
Then she nodded.
“Come on,” she said.
She turned and walked diligently back to the gate guard with the group behind her. Ealrin was puzzled. What was she going to do?
“I need to speak with Wisym of Talgel,” she declared to the guard. “It is of the utmost importance.”
The guard stood still, shocked for a moment.
“W... Wisym?" he choked. "Of Talgel? How do you know of her?”
“Does it matter? As a matter of Elf Preservation, I demand to speak to her immediately. She has been waiting for me and you are hindering our meeting,” she said with even more authority.
Ealrin was lost.
Wisym? Talgel? Elf Preservation?
What in the world was Lote talking about?
At that very moment, the gate cracked open and out stepped a female elf, dressed in red robes with the symbol of Beaton embroidered on the left side of her chest.
The symbol lacked the shield of the Red Guard.
“Ah! There you are!” she said as she looked at the group. “You're late!”
Ealrin looked at Bertrom, who shrugged his shoulders. Tory tapped Ealrin on the shoulder as well.
Gorplin spoke.
“And who are...”
Lote stepped on his toe, hard.
“Wisym! Thank the suns you came! This guard was bound to keep us standing outside all night!”
