The Mercenary Code

by Emmet Moss

  “Wait a minute,” Alessan suddenly exclaimed. “The Aeldenwood was larger than it is now and was then destroyed?”

  Not exactly, Alessan. My people are caretakers of this wood, as the Feradin were caretakers of their own. When humankind began to expand their territories, the Gorimm Elders thought it in our best interest to pull back our borders. We hoped to avoid any future confrontations with other races. You see, it was never in our nature to be warlike or expansionist; we were simply the only ones here for a long time, C’Aelis explained.

  “And so when the Gorimm disappeared…” Alessan shook his head in disbelief. “Without your guidance, the forest was simply returning to the size it once was!”

  That is correct, Alessan. The Aeldenwood has suffered, in part, due to the arrogance of my people.

  “You’ve mentioned this more than once. What do you mean by Gorimm arrogance?” Alessan probed.

  Now is not the time, C’Aelis replied bitterly.

  Alessan was suddenly struck by an intense feeling of anger and embarrassment. He could also detect a sadness enveloped by a sense of acceptance, as if the Gorimm who sat across from him had not been surprised by what he found upon his return to the Aeldenwood.

  “I’m sorry, C’Aelis, I meant you no harm. Tell me then of my dreams,” Alessan whispered.

  C’Aelis gave Alessan a gentle smile and took a long sip of his tea before returning to their previous conversation. In the northern expanse of the Kingdom of Valence we made contact with the Feradin, an elfin race who lived in the woods. Aside from their proficiency in warfare, there was much in common between our two peoples. They were long-lived, as are we, and for many years scholars from both races visited each another. It was the Kingdom of Valence that first introduced the Gorimm to the art of Dreaming.

  Dreamers, in the Feradin sense, were walkers of the mind; skilled sorcerers who could inhabit dreams and uncover a sleeper’s fears and desires. Through the manipulation of Aer, our scholars brought back a slightly altered form of the strange power.

  “How so?” Alessan asked curiously.

  We did not agree with invading someone’s secret thoughts. It was far too intrusive and lacking in honour. And so, over the years the magic of the Dream changed to become something reminiscent of soothsayers and seers of old.

  “Predicting the future then?” Alessan guessed. “My mother always told me never to take stock in people who professed to know a man’s future.”

  The Dreamers of my people see visions of the past, present and future, C’Aelis responded. They cannot predict the future; only see a possible variation on what may indeed come to pass. A True Dream is one in which everything you experience is real.

  “But it’s a dream, still?”

  Yes, C’Aelis replied patiently. But if wounded in such a dream, you would bear the mark upon awakening. If you die within a True Dream, so too does your life expire in the real world. True Dreams offer the deepest and most detailed interpretation at a vision.

  “But I was in a barren plain. It makes no sense,” Alessan said doubtfully.

  The meanings behind a vision are not always clear. Sometimes only after the fact does a dream make any sense, as with you here in this tower and the Gath pursuing you in the Aeldenwood. They were only nightmares until you experienced the actual events.

  “And so these True Dreams usually last for three weeks?” Alessan asked.

  Not unless the dreamer is lost, C’Aelis answered somberly. And you, Alessan, were definitely lost. Granted, I can only assume that your fever hampered my efforts to seek you out, and your prolonged coma was worrisome. Had I not found you when I did, the Gath may very well have attacked. That they were expertly controlled speaks of another presence in your vision, one that showed a high degree of skill. That is what worries me the most.

  “And how did you find me? Are you a Dreamer as well?” Alessan pressed.

  C’Aelis shook his head and smiled ruefully. I have a certain affinity to Aer. It is, for the moment, the best explanation.

  Alessan chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip before responding. What he had been told was certainly strange and if he understood correctly, some level of magic coursed through his veins.

  “So I have this power?”

  In the simplest terms, yes, C’Aelis answered with no trace of humour. You have the ability to manipulate your dreams as well as to search for those of people you know and care for. Gorimm Seers are something of a rarity and it is astounding that you possess the ability.

  “Is it really that uncommon?” Alessan looked up sharply. “The Silveryn Order have found many who possess magical abilities.”

  That is the quandary, Alessan. Never in the recorded history of your people has there ever been a human Dreamer. You possess a power never before seen in all of Caledun.

  Alessan had no reply. Untouched on the table before him, his tea began to grow cold.

  Alessan and C’Aelis spent the remainder of the day relaxing in the front foyer of the old tower. Alessan contemplated the newest information his companion brought to light. That he had some sort of latent magic ability within him did not strike him as implausible. The possibility that some negative force was attempting to subvert that power however, was cause for a great deal of concern.

  Throughout the course of the afternoon little was said, and for the most part a comfortable silence had settled between the two friends. Neither man seemed to mind, Alessan sipped slowly at another cup of delicious Gorimm tea while C’Aelis puffed serenely on his oddly curved pipe.

  “Tell me about this place,” Alessan said, surprising himself with the sudden flash of curiosity.

  My people call it Natg A’erinedor; the Tower of A’erinedor in the tongue of your people, C’Aelis replied. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled a billowy cloud of smoke. It was built in my youth and served as the northern watchtower for my people. I had already seen thirty turnings of the seasons before the Aliendal warning rods were added to bolster the tower’s defenses. A’erinedor was a prominent figure in my people’s history. She was the first general to successfully break the northern tribes of the Gorann, a feat that has never been duplicated.

  “Who are the Gorann?” Alessan asked.

  Humankind refers to them by another name — Goblins.

  “Goblins!” Alessan exclaimed. “The goblin tribes haven’t been united in centuries.”

  Oh, I have no doubt of that, Alessan, but I am glad to hear they remain scattered all the same. They were once my people’s greatest enemy and biggest regret.

  “Regret?”

  The Gorann are our cousins, C’Aelis replied quietly. In the dark years at the end of the first age, before even Caledun had been founded as a kingdom, my forefathers threw them out of our ancestral home. It was a punishment that should have lasted only a century or so. We were wrong. The Gorann were filled with an uncontrollable bloodlust and sought revenge.

  The leaders of my people intended only to teach the Gorann a lesson in their banishment, but the exile only served to drive a final wedge between our races. The Gorann were bitter and jaded; their culture suffered and a realm of once great craftsmen became a warrior nation. A’erinedor brought them to their knees and shattered their rulers, but the victory was an empty one. The Gorann had grown arrogant, and yet it is my people in the end who committed the greater injustice.

  C’Aelis grew serious and his words lingered in Alessan’s mind like a cry echoing from a high cliff. “How old are you, C’Aelis?” Alessan asked after a short time had passed. It was the question that burned hottest in his mind and he could not ignore it any longer.

  Counting the two centuries my people have been gone from the world of Kal Maran - three hundred and eighty-nine, he replied.

  In stunned silence, Alessan took another sip of his tea.

  Swift be steel, hard as stone. Tonight we wat
ch, tomorrow atone.

  —Borderland saying

  Chapter XXIX

  Lok’Dal hie, The Wilds

  Leoric waited until the snoring sounds of the sleeping men in the room became regular before sliding soundlessly to the cold floor. With surprising agility, he deftly maneuvered between the long rows of bunks and headed directly for the back door. As he passed the final bed, a hulking shadow joined him and the two men carefully unlatched the rear exit.

  Moving quietly between the converted farmhouse and the nearest warehouse, Leoric led the way into the closest field while keeping low to the ground. Pausing at the edge of the cornfield, he held his hand up as a warning to Angvald as they watched a trio of goblin guards patrolling the perimeter of the farm.

  Timing their next move carefully, Leoric directed his companion to quickly breach the distance between their location and one of the many clear paths between the growing crops nearby. Months earlier, Auric had convinced their goblin captors that the corn should be planted closer to the farmhouse. By summer’s end the stalks would reach high into the air, the perfect cover for a group of would-be escapees. For the moment, both men had to duck low in order to stay hidden from the sentries.

  “Hsst! Angvald, you’re going the wrong way,” he whispered urgently. He could hear the shambling gait of the crouching Kaleenian in the next row.

  The big man’s orange-bearded face immediately poked through the growing cornstalks. “I always knew I could count on you, Leoric,” he grinned and stepped to the borderman’s side. “We’re early anyway,” Angvald whispered. “We both know Auric will be sitting there when we arrive. He’s never late for a rendezvous.”

  It took the pair a short while to trek carefully out to a safe distance from the camp. Even from afar, they could make out the dark outline of a figure sitting cross-legged in the field. As they approached, Auric’s deeply lined face broke into a mischievous grin. Greeting them quietly in the darkness, he motioned to the ground. Scattered all around the old man lay the treasure that they all deemed of greater value than a mountain of gold — maps.

  Most of the charts showed detailed information of the lands the people of the Iron Shield had long thought unexplored. While some markings remained a mystery, they were far more concerned with learning the terrain than deciphering any goblin terms.

  “Benoit and Cara?” Leoric asked as he took a seat on the cold ground. “Benoit will be here but I don’t know if Cara got my signal at roll call this evening. She’s been very preoccupied since Drake was…” Auric trailed off.

  “She’s carrying his child, is she not?” Angvald asked quietly.

  “She is,” Leoric replied with a nod. “It may be the only thing keeping her going right now. Ensuring that Drake’s spirit lives on is of the utmost importance to her. Her love for that child will give her a reason to live.”

  All three men bent their heads to examine the various maps and charts of the wilderness while they waited for the rest of their clandestine group to arrive. They had been meeting regularly following the horrific slayings of Drake and Merias. The small community of captives had lived in perpetual fear since that day, and even one-time friends of the cruel Joram were on edge. Joram continued to rule by fear, but any trust he may once have earned was forever destroyed.

  Leoric had kept a low a profile since the murders, but many in the camp still came to him for advice. Angvald had also become somewhat of a stalwart defender of the people. Although the big foreigner had warned Leoric of his own behaviour, it was Angvald’s dominating appearance alone that kept some of Joram’s ruffians in check. In due time though, both men knew that their luck was bound to run out. Joram’s hold on the camp was still too strong and if the opportunity presented itself to exact vengeance upon them, Leoric was sure that the man would not hesitate to act.

  Kieri was another matter altogether. She had remained steadfast in her loyalty to Joram, as inexplicable as that devotion was to Leoric. She had, however, continued to send him fleeting looks that conveyed far deeper feelings. That he was falling further in love with her couldn’t be denied, and her painfully longing glances were almost too much to bear. It had been so long since they had spoken and he missed her terribly.

  “Here they come,” Angvald rumbled from his side.

  Peering intently into the surrounding darkness, Leoric picked out the bent shapes of two more figures swiftly crossing through the short stalks of corn. Even from a distance he could easily distinguish the marked difference between the tall and slim scholar and the middle-aged headstrong woman.

  Adjusting his spectacles as he dropped tiredly to the earth, Benoit made a brave attempt at a smile. Cara, on the other hand, looked like she hadn’t slept well for days. Dark circles surrounded her blue eyes, and the once ready smile she had often flashed for friends had completely disappeared. Of the entire group, Leoric was most concerned for her.

  “I apologize for my tardiness but it seems Joram and his goons are up and about this evening as well,” Benoit said as he gratefully rested on the ground.

  Auric raised his bushy eyebrows in alarm. “Are they aware of our plans, or just sneaking about?” he asked.

  Benoit shook his head emphatically. “They aren’t near the dorm rooms, like usual. They’re at the grain warehouse making noise. I tried to get a quick look but I couldn’t get near enough,” he replied.

  It was a well-known fact that just as Angvald tended to stand guard for Leoric, so too did Joram’s cronies sniff around in the dark hoping to find another chance to strike. Thwarted once, they smelled blood and looked for every opportunity to corner their prey. Like animals, Leoric thought.

  “We should kill them first, then deal with escaping,” Cara muttered from her spot on the damp earth. “If we leave, who will stand up for those that are left behind?”

  “Easy, lass,” Auric raised a hand. “Joram’s time will come, whether it be by our hands or that of another. Eventually evil minds turn on each other and Joram’s group of thugs is no different. There will come a time when he feels the reins of power slipping and is forced to answer for his actions.”

  “But what’s to stop another tyrant from taking his place?” she snapped back.

  “If we have done our job well enough, supporting these people and keeping their hopes alive, we can only pray that someone with a good heart will fill the void,” Auric answered patiently. “It is not for us to dictate that which the gods deem necessary.”

  “The gods have nothing to do with this, Auric,” Leoric answered immediately. “No true god would sit idle and watch the pain we have all suffered. And if the gods have done so, then I hope to one day face them so that I can throw such suffering back in their faces.”

  “Friends, this is not why we have come here tonight,” Angvald whispered sadly. “We must finish our plans and choose the time of our departure ere we tempt fate too many times and are caught.”

  The others nodded in agreement and Auric unrolled a large map that clearly showed the trails and waterways of the immediate area. On the other side of a large defensive wall lay freedom, but reaching the relative safety of the wilderness would be anything but easy.

  “This is the last piece of the puzzle,” Auric began. Pointing to a small stream that flowed through the valley and under the great wall, he continued. “If we can’t get over the wall I believe that swimming under it may be possible. This is the new plan if the theft of the ropes fails.”

  Angvald shook his head. “But the stream lies much farther to the north then we wish to travel. If the ropes are obtained we should plan on hitting the nearest piece of that damned wall as possible. Time will not be on our side.”

  “I agree. If we travel too far north we’ll lose much needed time to flee. The Wilds are too familiar to the goblins and we need every advantage possible,” Leoric added.

  “But if the ropes fail, Auric is right,” Benoit chimed
in. “This at least gives us a secondary objective. The last thing we want is to be caught atop the wall with nowhere to run. We have no idea what we will encounter on top of that rampart. We need to be aware of where that stream lies.”

  “Fine, and if we obtain the ropes, where do we now stand?” Angvald asked.

  “The collected food supplies have been incredibly difficult to hide, but if we are all in agreement that the trip should last close to a month, then we are ready to go,” Cara replied after a moment’s thought. “As long as we can hunt along the way, we should be fine.”

  “Excellent,” Benoit agreed. “On my end I have managed to obtain three extra sets of clothing. The nights will remain cold and we’ll need the extra layers I’m sure.”

  “And the torches and rope?” Auric inquired.

  “The torches can be grabbed from the warehouse by the first runner so they are accounted for. The ropes are coiled neatly behind two large grain sacks and need only to be snatched the night of our escape. Obtaining a flint stone a concern but I believe Joram has one, it’s just a matter of getting it from his home,” Benoit finished.

  “Kieri?” Leoric asked quietly. “She has access to the house…”

  “Are you mad?!” Cara and Angvald hissed. “I’m damn sorry, Leoric but she’s still in bed with the enemy and we cannot trust her,” Angvald finished.

  Watching the others as a whole nod in agreement, Leoric sighed. “It was just a thought.”

  Patting him lightly on the arm, Auric spoke in a gentle tone. “We know it’s hard for you Leoric, but she’ll be but a passing memory once we leave.”

  Leoric chose to ignore the comment. Turning instead towards the big man from Kaleen, he brought the conversation back on track. “Weapons, Angvald?”

  “I think we have to assume we’ll be going over the wall with nothing but our hands and feet,” the man sighed heavily. “Everything in the mine is tightly guarded and my shift never works near the holding areas. Drake tried everything to get me posted near the armoury but with no luck. If I do obtain anything it will be on an impulse as I leave the mine that last day.”