Warren shook his head as they made their way back to The Wayward Prince in the deepening gloom of twilight. “What possible reason could there be to gather so many troops in one place?”
“There is only one reason,” Garrick replied. He had replaced his hood while traveling through town, but the sun had set during their return so he pulled it back a little, counting on the darkness of the cool night to sufficiently mask his features.
Aldrick played with the reins of his horse. “I can’t believe that is a training exercise. Not even bothering to hide the invasion, are they?”
“How could they hide that many soldiers?” Garrick sighed.
The creaking faded sign of The Wayward Prince came into view in the dim light of the crescent moon. “What will you do now?” Aldrick asked in a resigned voice.
“I suppose I…” Garrick began, but was interrupted by the front door of The Wayward Prince bursting open, followed by a large muscular man flying out through the opening and landing unceremoniously in a heap on the road.
They were approaching the door when another man stumbled out into the darkness, clutching a dagger buried in the center of his chest.
“What the…” Garrick exclaimed, as the interior of the common room came into view. The tavern had not been overly organized or immaculate before, but the center of the main room was now a complete shambles. The worn round tables were overturned and smashed and the planked wooden floor was covered in broken glass and the remains of ale mugs and pottery.
Aldrick could see the outline of a dark figure in the center of the destruction, partially obscured behind a support column. The stranger faced three more large intimidating men, nearly twins of the two outside, who were cursing and threatening the defender with swords. It looked to Aldrick as if they were arguing about how to attack the dark figure, which clearly had the advantage of the support column and the limited space of the small common room. They must have decided, as one of the three feigned while the others attempted short swings. The shadowed defender, who held a medium sized dagger in one hand, easily parried both half swings.
Dathan peered inside past Garrick as the mysterious figure stepped out from behind the column. “That’s Aelianna, the bloody girl I told you about.”
Aldrick could now see in the dim light of a swinging lamp that the figure was indeed a woman. She was dressed all in soft, dark form fitted leather gear, with a long ponytail hanging down the center of her back. Dathan had been correct; the woman was absolutely beautiful, with a lithe athletic build. At the moment however, she was outnumbered and clearly in a serious amount of trouble.
Garrick made his decision quickly. “A beautiful woman in distress! That’s my cue.” In a flash he had unsheathed his sword and vaulted into the dark common room.
Aelianna spun and kicked one attacker in the chest, her ponytail swinging out in a wide circle. Having no prior knowledge of this woman or what the fight was about, Aldrick was not quite as inspired as Garrick to rush in and help the stranger. He shouted, “Wait!” but his exclamation fell on deaf ears.
Before Garrick was halfway across the room one of the three swordsmen fell to his knees clutching a gaping gash across his throat, provided by one of her barbed daggers. Aldrick and the others moved into the common room while the ponytailed warrior retrieved another dagger from her belt, spun and cut a second attacker across the middle with both blades. The mortally wounded fellow clutched his midsection as he fell in a vain attempt to keep his innards from spewing out.
Aelianna was clearly startled by the newcomers and eyed them with a guarded expression. Garrick leapt over an overturned table and slashed two quick strikes to dispatch the final attacker. He bent to check for a pulse, and then stood and presented the beautiful warrior with a dramatic bow. “There you are, my dear. No thanks are necessary, though I’m certain they would be appreciated.”
Garrick grinned as she crossed the room. By his expression, he clearly expected her to be at least demurely thankful, if not glowing in her praise of his prowess with the sword. Instead he was rewarded for his assistance with a full palm slap to the face. His satisfied look was replaced by one of complete surprise. He stared wide-eyed at the warrior with one hand covering the red stinging mark on his face. Aelianna glared back at him, standing proudly with her hands on her hips.
“What was that for?”
“Fool!” she shouted. “I need one to live.”
“I was only trying to help.”
Aelianna looked about helplessly at the fallen attackers. “The dead do not speak. Now I not know why they attack me.”
Seeing the fight was over, the surly innkeeper appeared from behind the counter and interrupted his reply. “My inn!” she spat. “You monsters done broke my place!”
Garrick, having recovered from the initial surprise of the slap, stepped in and began politically, “This wasn’t her fault. She was attacked.”
“I don’t care ‘bout none of that,” Gerda shouted, her eyes bulging and her face crimson. “My place is broke up and these ones is dead. They ain’t payin’ fer nothin’!”
“Ah, that much I can take care of,” Garrick beamed. Taking out a large coin purse, he bounced it in his hand and surveyed the damage to the room.
Gerda went silent, but maintained her ever-present scowl. Her eyes followed the heavy purse like a cat watching a mouse. She licked her lips and swallowed, and when she spoke, her voice was humble. “What did you ‘ave in mind…mi’lord?”
Garrick peered into the heavy coin purse dramatically as if he had no idea what he would find. “I might be able to part with as much as…five gold coins to cover the damage.”
The face of the heavy innkeeper was a strange mixture of greed and disappointment, as if she had been hoping for more but was overjoyed to receive that much. At the very least, there was no question that Garrick had her attention.
The king flourished the gold before her like he was performing a magic trick. “I will add another five gold coins to close the doors for repairs, and allow us the run of the place for a day or two.”
Her scowl nearly disappeared for the first time since they had crossed the threshold. Bobbing her head like a Ghandaharian parrot, the normally churlish innkeeper was all smiles, displaying a double row of rotting brown teeth.
“Yes, mi’lord, I wager for ten gold I could see m’ way clear to givin’ ya the run of the place.” She glanced around the ruined common room with a grimace. “More’n likely be that long ‘till I can open anyway, I reckon.”
Garrick handed her the gold, and it disappeared from view in the blink of an eye. She shuffled off to the back room muttering under her breath, while everyone else turned back to the warrior, who still stood in the remains of the common room with a dagger in each hand.
Aelianna pointed one dagger straight at Garrick, the blade still dripping with blood. “This is your fault.”
Garrick smiled. “What is my fault?”
“How is dead man to talk? Say why they attack?”
“I’m sure a woman as pretty as you should be used to having men chase her,” Garrick said with a wink.
Aelianna scowled. “Your tongue is sly, like desert fox, but is not useful. I should cut it out.”
Garrick held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Now wait a moment, I was only trying to help. I’m certain we could assist you in finding out why these men attacked you.”
Dathan stepped in to help. “Aelianna, these are the bloody men I was telling you about. This is Prince Garrick.”
Aelianna raised an eyebrow. “This is lost prince?” At his nod, she continued. “From Ae’roya Jost I think he is…”
“What?”
Aelianna looked Garrick up and down speculatively. “Less trouble.”
“The prince and his friends are looking for your Clavis too. They told me themselves.”
The look of doubt in her eyes changed to one of incredulity. “You seek Clavis?”
Garrick glanced at Aldrick for confirmat
ion, and received a nod. “We are looking for an artifact, which could be this Clavis. What do you know about it?”
Aelianna still looked doubtful, but she stood up a table and grabbed a chair. “I on Ae’roya Jost. You call this dream journey. It say I must help two men find Clavis. Without Clavis, my people die. I seek lost prince with man of reason who also seek Clavis. Together, we find Clavis, save my people.”
Garrick and Aldrick shared a look. Dathan had told them much the same thing, but the coincidence was almost too much to be believed. Hearing it second hand had been one thing, but hearing it in person made it more difficult to dismiss as a mistake or misunderstanding.
It was Aldrick who spoke first. “I admit it would appear you are looking for us, although I cannot explain how that is possible. I remember reading of the Ae’roya Jost, but I didn’t know it was still practiced.”
“It is,” Aelianna corrected. “Ae’roya Jost is always true.” She spoke with confidence, yet there was a troubled look in her dark brown eyes.
“In any case,” Garrick interrupted, “We both seem to be looking for this Clavis, or at least Aldrick is. I knew I needed to come here and see things for myself.” The king paused and closed his eyes, as if trying to recall a memory. In a near whisper, he added, “I had planned on returning to Akkadia, but that doesn’t feel quite right anymore.”
Aldrick glanced at the corpses strewn about the floor. “First, we need to take care of these bodies, including the ones outside, before that same invasion force starts to ask questions none of us wish to answer.”
“Warren and I will get the bloody ones from out front. No pun intended.” Dathan grinned. Warren moaned a little, but followed Dathan out through the remains of the front door.
Garrick shook his head to clear it. “We should search the bodies. Perhaps we can find a clue as to who sent them, for dagger lady here.”
“We best find, desert fox,” Aelianna warned, cleaning her daggers on the tunic of a dead man. “I not like men to hunt me.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Garrick said. “However the name is Prince Garrick, not desert fox. Actually it’s King Gil…er, Garrick, come to think of it.”
“Now it is king?” Aelianna snorted. “Which is it, sly one? Prince or king?”
“Now see here,” Garrick began, but was interrupted by Dathan.
“We need some bloody help! One is still alive.”
Chapter 13
The man with a dagger protruding from his chest lay still, and was clearly not going to be answering any questions. The second attacker had a deep gash on one arm and an eye already bruised and swelling up. He awoke as they dragged him inside the tavern, and once inside he slumped against one wall, groggy and moaning.
Garrick shook the attacker to get his attention, and Aldrick squatted down to look the man in the eye. “What is your name?”
“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” the man spat with a groan.
Aelianna kicked him hard in the leg. “Talk!”
“Ow! Stop, it’s Navin.”
“Alright Navin,” Aldrick smiled. “I would very much like to know who sent you.”
“I can’t tell,” Navin coughed, and then held up his hands defensively before Aelianna could kick him again. “Kickin’ me won’t make no difference. He’ll kill me.”
Aelianna paused in mid-kick, but Garrick clapped his hands together. “See? We now know it’s a man. Progress!”
Navin looked startled for a moment, but then recovered. “That’s all you’ll find out. Nothin’ could make me give up his name.”
“Perhaps a few days without food or water will change his mind,” Aldrick suggested.
“Perhaps,” Garrick said thoughtfully. “Then again, that cut on his arm looks nasty…”
“I not wait days,” Aelianna snorted. “Lazy men.”
She stalked to the far corner, now shrouded in darkness, and grabbed a long alabaster bow propped against the wall. Returning to the dim lamplight of the main room, the intricately carved bow in her hand appeared white washed or fashioned from bone. She slung a leather quiver of long barbed arrows over one shoulder, before pulling out a single shaft and nocking it in the blink of an eye. Before anyone could stop her, she pulled and shot the arrow directly into Navin’s upper left thigh. The injured man let out a screeching yell and grabbed his leg in shock.
“Now you say name?”
Aldrick jumped to his feet. “Hold on, you can’t do that!”
“Why is this?” Aelianna had a confused look.
“You can’t torture the man!”
“You forget I kill other men?”
“To be fair,” Garrick interrupted, “I killed one of them.”
Aldrick flashed Garrick an exasperated look, but ignored his comment. “There is a distinct difference between defending yourself, and torturing someone for information.”
“I not torture,” Aelianna said, brandishing her bow. “I kill him if he not say name.”
Aldrick looked to Garrick for help, but the king shrugged. “Don’t look at me.”
“Sly desert fox agree.”
“I didn’t say I agree, and that is Prince Garrick to you. I mean King…”
Before he could finish, Aelianna nocked and shot another arrow in one smooth motion into Navin’s right leg, mirroring the first shaft in his left. Navin shrieked in pain and grabbed his right leg, cursing loudly.
“I have many arrows still.”
“Stop, stop,” the injured man begged. “His name is Ra’jahankar. He’s a sorcerer.”
“A sorcerer?” Aldrick gasped in disbelief.
“Ra’jahankar?” Garrick repeated. “Does that name mean anything to you?
Aelianna shook her head. “No. Why he send men?”
Navin groaned and coughed, ignoring her question, but he changed his mind quickly when a third arrow appeared. “He sent us ‘cause you’re lookin’ for the Clavis.”
There were gasps of surprise around the room, and Aldrick stepped forward. “Describe this so-called sorcerer.”
Navin shifted his position with a grimace, and sweat trickled down his forehead. He gasped for air, and seemed to be struggling to answer. “He is…skinny…and bald. He has a scar. He dresses…all in black, and he blows…his nose…a lot. ”
“Jahann!” Aldrick exclaimed.
“You think they are the same man?” Garrick speculated.
“The descriptions are identical, and the names. Ra’jahankar and Jahann.”
“I didn’t realize Jahann is a sorcerer.”
“Jahann was a noble, or at least he claimed to be. There hasn’t been a sorcerer since Sargon, that I’m aware of.”
“What is this ‘sorcerer’?” Aelianna asked.
“A sorcerer is a magician or a wizard; a man who controls magic.” Warren explained.
“A bloody sorcerer…” Dathan moaned.
“But magic no longer exists,” Aldrick stated.
“Magic does exist,” Navin coughed weakly. “I have seen…Ra’jahankar perform…magic.”
“Who is this Jahann?” Aelianna asked.
“Jahann is the man I am looking for,” Aldrick replied. “He stole the artifact from me; the Clavis you would call it.”
Aelianna eyes opened wide and she grabbed Aldrick by the arm. “You know where Clavis is? I must have for my people!”
Aldrick pulled out of her grip. “I don’t know where he is, I only know he was last seen in Karkerech. If it’s true Jahann and this Ra’jahankar are the same man, perhaps Navin can tell us where to find him.”
All heads turned back to Navin, who licked his parched lips and blinked his eyes quickly, as if he were struggling not to fall asleep. “Ra’jahan…” He began, and closed his eyes again. Aelianna kicked him, and he opened his eyes again with a weak groan.
“He has left…the city,” Navin managed after a coughing fit. “There is…map.”
“Jahann has left Karkerech? Where has he gone?”
“He said som
ething about a map,” Garrick interjected. “Where is it?”
Navin lifted a bloody hand and weakly tapped his chest. “Map…”
Aldrick checked inside his coat and found a folded parchment tucked into an inner pocket. He unfolded it to discover it was indeed a small map showing a hand-drawn route leading into the mountains in northern Illyria. “What does this show? This is where he is going?”
Navin nodded groggily. “We were…to follow…af…”
“What?” Aldrick prodded, but Navin closed his eyes and would not respond. “I don’t understand where he is going. This route leads into the mountains north of a town named Durin, west of Kishen. What’s up there?”
The Key of Creation: Book 02 - Journey to Khodara Page 10
