The Ambersham: Book One of The Lords Of Lynnwood

by Greg Ricker

  His apron was quite clean, but the sweat-soaked bangs of his gray hair proved that he had been busy.

  "I shall get Master Covary." He left in a flash.

  The men had very little time to look around, before the host of the evening stepped into the foyer. His gray and white hair was kept long, like his beard, but both were neatly trimmed. He wore fine clothing, with a gold tassel on his left breast. He carried a smoking pipe in his right hand, and held a cane with his left, though his walking did not appear to need help in any way. An old injury caused his left knee to give out occasionally, and he was always sure to have the cane with him, if and when, it happened again.

  "Good evening, friends." He greeted.

  Some nodded their heads, or returned the greeting. Taron and Dalt looked at each other. The rest, were looking at the rings on Master Covary's fingers.

  "The meal will be a few minutes yet," started Covary, "so if you will follow me, I would like to show you around my home."

  He turned to walk down a hallway, and the men lined up behind him, in no particular order. Friends stood in line by their friends.

  Leaving Deril alone in the rear.

  Where he wanted to be.

  The first flight of stairs led to the hall on the second floor, where the walls were lined with paintings and doors.

  "These are my ancestors," said Covary, when nearly everyone had ascended into the hall. "Some were painted over six-thousand years ago. This one," he pointed, "is of my great-great-grandfather, Lord Bishahl. He designed and built this home."

  The men were not as interested in the paintings, as they were with the many closed doors within the hall. Covary noticed this.

  "These are the servants' private rooms." He continued. "Let me show you the guest rooms."

  That drew their attention to the next flight of steps, and they followed the Dwarf up.

  The third floor hall was quite similar to the second, only the paintings were of various landscapes and buildings, and the doors to the rooms were wide open.

  "Feel free to look about, my friends." Covary insisted.

  Some entered the rooms, others simply stepped into doorways for a peek, but only Deril stood motionless. His arms folded, and fingers tapping.

  He met eyes with Covary, momentarily, before the men returned to reform the line, ready to move on.

  At the top of the third stairway, there was not a hall, but a small, empty room with a single door on the far end.

  "This is my library." Covary told them, as he opened the door to the largest room any of them had ever seen.

  From one foot off of the floor to a ceiling the height of three men, were books of all subjects, standing neatly on wooden shelves built into the walls. Too many to even dare count. There were many, many, thousands. The center of the room was decorated with an elegant green carpet with bound edges, and a rearing horse of silver weaved in its middle. Too expensive for soiled boots to tread on, but Covary led them across.

  Deril was disappointed. There was not a fifth story, but a high ceiling on the fourth. Could the voices in his head have betrayed him for the first time? Was Wade right about Master Covary? Did he only intend to show off his nice home?

  Then why did he sense something here?

  It was strong. Very strong, like the smell of new coins.

  Not joining the others, who were looking about in awe - funny, since few of them could read, anyway - made Deril the only person in the room, to see Covary pull something from a pocket inside of his red vest. The Dwarf was trying to be inconspicuous, but Deril had years of experience in that, as well as in the art of watching hands. He knew when coins and notes were exchanged, and when the tiniest of knives were hidden, behind the nimblest of fingers.

  In this case, he knew the Dwarf held a key in his tightly closed fist.

  Covary looked about before moving the appropriate books to reach the lock behind them, and Deril was the first man he glanced at, but he was looking around at everything else, so it seemed. Without taking his eyes from the men in the room, he used the long, silver key, and pulled back on one of the shelves. Most of the wall opened like a great door, and soon it caught the attention of everyone.

  "I have one more room to show you." Said the Dwarf with a smile, and he stepped into the room beyond.

  The others followed.

  Deril felt a rush run through his veins. Was this it? Was this why he could hear the voices in his head laughing?

  The room had a ceiling equal to that of the library, but not nearly as large, especially due to its numerous contents. Hundreds of weapons, armor pieces, amulets, and painted pottery, sat on shelves or stands, and many on the floor as well. Some items were quite new, and some were very old, but all were quite valuable.

  "Please, have a look around," Covary invited, "but please do not touch. Oils from the fingers can tarnish, you know."

  The men smiled as they walked, where they could, through the room. Mouths gaped as they tried to complete the impossible task of seeing everything in a short time. The light from the lamps in the room reflected off of everything, creating a magnificent, and tempting glow.

  They wanted to fill their pockets.

  Deril was again disappointed. The Dwarf had good taste, and the wealth he desired, but a rich man's collection was worthless to him, unless he managed to steal everything. Then he would have to leave the kingdom with it, and try to sell it all somewhere. He was in no position to attempt such an involved, and tiresome burglary, and there was no doubt in his mind that Covary, despite the mess the room appeared to be in, knew where each and every piece presently sat.

  His feeling about tonight, had to be about something else. There was no denying, that in some way, this collection of expensive junk was related. He had felt it inside.

  The night was far from over.

  He would discover what it was.

  Ding! Ding!

  A high-pitched bell rang from the first floor, and they could hear it plainly.

  "Ah. Dinner is ready!" Covary announced.

  For some, it was bad news. They wanted to stay and look around some more. Perhaps, hoping that the Dwarf would turn his back on them, for a moment.

  He did not. Covary, watching closely, waited for all of them to leave, before closing the door. The lock was automatic, operated by metal gears behind the bookshelf. To set it, he slid the books back into place before the door was closed all the way.

  He trusted his guests. They were, after all, noble soldiers.

  Covary led them back down to the first floor hallway, where they found the butler, Coll, standing before the open double doors to the dining room on their right. He had discarded the apron, and now wore his black uniform proudly. The smell of delicious food hit their noses instantly, and their mouths watered.

  "Dinner is served, gentlemen." Said Coll, with a smile.

  One had to either wholeheartedly enjoy being a butler, or be paid very well, to act as happy as he seemed. In truth, Coll was both happy, and wealthy. He stepped aside, and the men walked into the dining room, Covary last, behind Deril.

  The stable master whispered something to the butler, and Coll hurried off.

  "Please sit, gentlemen." Covary was quick to grab the grandest chair, at the head of the long table. There were twenty-two chairs in all, one on each end, and ten along each side.

  The men sat where they wished, and stared anxiously at the feast before them. A whole roasted pig, smoked leg of lamb, four flame-broiled chickens, hot potatoes, rolls by the dozens, and two large platters of fruits and vegetables. A feast fit for a gathering of kings.

  Deril, had seated himself in the single chair opposite Covary's end of the table. The other men had avoided taking it, in fact, and the stable owner knew, as he had suspected, whom their leader was. That was his reasoning for the chair positioning, in the first place. Perhaps the man was a Lieutenant Commander.

  The night was not to talk of armies, or war.

  Though, the stable master´s inte
ntions, relied on them.

  Smiling proudly, Covary had no idea what kind of men he actually had invited into his home.

  "A toast before we eat." The stable master lifted his glass, and a few enthusiastic mouths were quickly drawn back from their own glasses. They all had tall glasses filled with a dark, red wine, and Covary led them in holding them high.

  "To our armies, and their kings!" The Dwarf began. "May the wind be at your backs, your blades strike true, and may the spirit of victory guide your way!"

  "Here! Here!" They answered, and as Covary tipped his glass, the feast began.

  There was more than enough, and Coll returned often to fill glasses and exchange dirty napkins for clean ones. He could not have done everything by himself, but no other servants entered the room. Only their voices could be heard, whenever Coll entered or left the dining room through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  It was the best meal Taron and Dalt had enjoyed since leaving home. They had to fOrce themselves to eat slowly, although not many of the others seemed to care about their manners, or the impressions they were making.

  The men talked and laughed, enjoying themselves immensely, but Deril and Covary remained silent as they ate and drank. Occasionally, catching a glance from each other. After nearly an hour, the men were sitting back in their chairs, holding their wine glasses. Most of them had consumed too much of both food, and wine, but some still nibbled on the vegetables and fruit, despite the fact that they were near the point of exploding.

  It was not until Coll brought Covary his smoking pipe, and a long, burning splinter, with which he helped him light it, that the wealthy stable owner spoke.

  "I envy the lot of you." He said.

  The men quieted to listen. Respect had grown for the man with the fine food and ale they helped themselves to.

  "You'll be embarking on a historic journey tomorrow.¨ Covary puffed his pipe. ¨One of great honor, and reward. The places and things you will see..."

  He trailed off, and smoked a few more puffs of his pipe.

  The others began to lose interest, and started to look at the tapestries and fixtures about the room that they had been too busy eating and drinking to notice before.

  "Such journeys find a man returning with treasure in his saddlebags." Covary suddenly continued.

  "Bah!" One man rudely burst out. "All claimed by kings!"

  The wine had obviously gotten the best of him, but he spoke for the others, as well, for they all agreed silently.

  "Not always so, sir." Covary did not appear bothered by the outburst. "The castle does claim a large share, but who's to know what you might hide in your wagons, saddlebags, or even your own pockets? I'm interested to know, what one may find, on a dead Orc."

  "My footprints!" Shouted one man, and they all shared a short laugh.

  The southlanders were reminded of the slain Orcs they had seen, as well as the villagers.

  "Remember what I showed you upstairs?" Covary asked. No one answered him, but he knew none of them had forgotten. "Nearly my whole collection, consists of articles lost in wars. You may have noticed, but I have nearly every piece of the last Dy'Shan Lord's armor, all save his shield. That was destroyed by Elf magic."

  Covary puffed his pipe, and sent several smoke rings into the air.

  "I have little desire for hauling old pottery, or beaten armor." Deril spoke up, and caught the stable master's attention.

  A large smile appeared on Covary's lips as he removed his pipe. "Not even if I pay you handsomely for them?"

  The feeling Deril had waited for returned like a rock thrown into his gut, the feeling that coin was to be made.

  It arrived at last.

  Covary could tell that everyone was listening then. "I want whatever you can get your hands on. From the smallest ring, to the largest item you can carry. I will turn down nothing, and will pay a good price for each. What good is an amulet, or golden gauntlet, to a young, city soldier? Why not sell them to me, for enough coin to buy something you can use? Live life in style for a while, when you return. You will all deserve it."

  He had them locked on the idea, and knew it. They were picturing themselves with pockets bulging, full of coins, free to spend at will.

  Dalt and Taron could have sold him their black daggers, but they were not about to do so. At least, not until they were finished with them.

  For men from Tylas, it was an impossible offer to decline. They would all be back, even Deril, who saw Covary eyeing him carefully.

  Knowingly.

  Master Covary could not deny his own trustworthy feeling, that Deril Bahr, was a dangerous man.

  In a large room in the castle, bare of windows, and lit by dozens of dim lamps, Nerol Blanford sat on his throne, the only furnishing within. Not the throne that sat next to the Queen's in the Great Room, but the ancient throne of Mynnorah. The one he sat on when giving orders to his army. Thousands of years old, and its gold was as beautiful as ever. The padding had been changed several times, but a large letter B remained from the original material. Removed and sewn into the new material each time it was replaced. The first King to sit upon it had been a Blandford, and Nerol was proud of that.

  Three armored guards watched him in silence, as he stared at the black marble floor. The day was done, yet he needed more time to think things over. He wanted conclusions that could not be obtained, guarantees that could not be offered, and promises that could not be made.

  The guards had commenced to wonder if Nerol was really doing any constructive thinking. An hour had passed since the King's last visitor. There was nothing left to do, but wait for him to stand, or give an order.

  Their attention went to the only door to the room, when it began to open without warning. They quickly removed their hands from their swords’ pommels, when their Queen stepped inside.

  Yudora was alone, but there was no doubting that her own guards waited out in the hall. Only she, could enter without prior notice.

  She would have, even if it were not allowed.

  "Yudora, my love." Nerol's head shot up, and he corrected his posture.

  "I wish to see my husband alone, please." She told the guards, and they quickly left the room without question. Her word, was as equally powerful as his. She turned to him, but did not smile, as he did.

  "Is something wrong, my Queen?"

  She folded her arms. "Is something wrong, you ask? My husband is leaving tomorrow, for who knows how long, and he sits in here! Alone!"

  She began to pace the marble floor.

  "But I..."

  "Not a word!" She barked.

  Nerol obeyed.

  "I've spent the last three hours looking for you," the Queen continued, "and this is where I find you!"

  She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform.

  Nerol was shocked. He was afraid she was going to pound his face in. He probably deserved it, but then an impish grin appeared on her lovely face.

  The anger vanished. Her eyes were entrancing. He could not resist those eyes.

  The eyes of the beautiful, young woman, he had chosen as his Queen.

  "Then so be it." She said.

  Yudora grabbed his beard, and pressed her lips to his, but he was struggling to speak.

  "Not here!" Nerol pushed her away. Not out of anger. Out of concern. He could not imagine, nor did he care to know, what the spirits of his ancestors would of him sitting on the ancient throne of his forefathers, kissing!

  Nerol's eyes were wide. "We can not disrespect the throne!"

  "Fine." Said Yudora, then she pulled him to the floor.

  He did not fight her again.

  There is no place else on earth, quite like that which holds dark solitude. Whether a dense forest, or narrow alleyway, the fear of being trapped and helpless, thrived in such places. Anything could happen at any time, or nothing at all. It is the desperate expectation that fear feasts on.

  No less so for Deril Bahr, but such a place was like a second home, to him. Though,
he did spend more time in dark solitude, than most.

  He took the same paths, and hid behind the same corners, as he had when he escaped from the castle grounds, early that morning. No one saw him then, and no one saw him now. Dwarves occasionally walked by him, and he would quickly change his location before the suspicious could even look back.

  Leaving the guarded line heading back to the castle grounds from Master Covary's home, had been even easier. Even his own men did not see him slip behind a wagon. They would know, soon enough, that he was missing, but they would never tell the guards.

  Not if they wanted to live through the night.

  He stepped into the narrow walkway between the Nine Ladies of My Lord, and The Stonewalk inns. Then darkness hit him, letting a world of gray consume him.

  He welcomed it, and vanished inside it.

  Bronol wiped the bar top clean for the third time, after closing his doors. He did not like to keep his bar open late, disliking the crowd that would usually attract. He ran Among Friends entirely by himself, and ran it well. He serviced mostly an older, more mature crowd.

  It was later than agreed to, when someone he expected knocked on the door, and Bronol tucked the rag he held into the large pocket on the front of his apron. He quickly stepped out from behind the bar, and opened the door without even asking who it was on the other side.

  Tonight, he knew.

  "Hello again, sir." The bartender greeted.

  Deril simply nodded.

  Bronol would never serve a Dwarf with eyes like this man's, but he was a Bowenn soldier, and there was a lot of coin to be made here.

  "Please come in." Bronol stepped aside for him, and closed the door. "May I see the list?"

  He took the piece of paper when Deril offered it, and read the names. "Your friend has good taste. Follow me."

  He tucked the list in his apron pocket, with the twenty other items it held.

  They walked through the kitchen door - everything cleaned and the dishes neatly stacked - then to another door that led to a staircase down to the cellar below. Deril followed the Dwarf down the dark stairs and into a dimly lit room. It was colder down there, and the air a little heavier. Then he saw the wine. There were hundreds of bottles on tall racks.