When he reached the other shore, he dragged the boat to the bushes and secured it. Then he started for the last spot he’d seen Leilas and Erion. From there, he easily followed the trail the darklings were leaving him. He caught up to his men to find them embroiled in a battle with the crafter and the elf. Cursing, he quickly called his men back. Hearing his signal, the darklings retreated and joined him in the forest.
“I told you to follow them, not to kill them.” He grabbed the leader and shook him. “We need her to find all the pieces of the Crafter’s Staff. Only she can find them all.”
“They are in our forest,” replied the darkling haughtily. “If we want them dead, we will kill them.”
Gidron’s eyes narrowed. Raising his hand, he spoke several words of magic quickly. The leader of the darklings screamed in pain then went limp and fell to the ground, dead. “Do any of you share Derrik’s feelings?” Gidron asked the remaining darklings.
The darklings muttered, but no one spoke. “Good,” he said, satisfied. “I want them alive. All I want you to do is follow them. Can you manage that simple task?” The darklings muttered, but nodded in the affirmative. “Then go, follow them, leave them alone. When they stop, let me know. Darrok, you’re now the leader.” Following Gidron’s instructions quickly, the darklings bolted down the road after the fleeing elf and crafter.
Gidron kicked the body at his feet, then stepped over the dead darkling and continued through the forest to the abandoned darkling stronghold he’d taken over as his home. The walls rose suddenly out of the forest and enclosed the dark castle. The fortress was made from the stones spewed from the volcanoes, its exterior rough and forbidding. The magic here suited him more than the light magic of the School of Sky. He’d endured the irritation of the light magic for more years than he cared to remember, although he’d been able to pass as a light crafter. He’d never quite understood how he’d accomplished fooling all the light crafters, but it had served him well.
Entering the fortress, Gidron made his way down into the lower rooms, intent on his goal. Reaching the last room off the main hallway, he spoke a word that was as old as the fortress. The door opened and he stepped into the empty room. Stepping to the center of the room, he knelt and spoke another ancient word. Then he pried a stone from the floor and deposited the amulet in the recess he found there. He replaced the stone and spoke the ancient word again. Leaving the room, he sealed the door. Then smiling to himself, he went in search of food.
~~~
Jakob was led into the room where the council was assembled. Behind him, the officer of the protectorate led a badly injured, but alive, Mandrak. Jakob might have felt sorry for the man, if he didn’t wish him dead. The front of his tunic was charred and stuck to his chest. The skin on his neck and chest was red and blistered. Perhaps there was some justice in the world, thought Jakob.
The dwarf leading him into the room pushed him roughly into the prisoner’s box. Mandrak was placed in a second box. The council consisted of seven very elderly dwarves, all with white hair and amazingly long, white beards. The dwarves were sitting behind a bench, waiting quietly for the people involved in this incident to assemble.
Jakob watched the man from the temple and the official of the protectorate take a seat. There were a few others whom he hadn’t seen until this moment. Other than these few people, the room was empty. Not a good sign, thought Jakob. If no one saw them at this trial, who would know if they were put into the dungeon and left to rot?
He swallowed nervously and tried not to let his apprehension show. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be quite important and it seemed to concern an amulet. The one he was certain Gidron Frey must have taken. Why else would he have been in the temple and have left Mandrak for dead?
The dwarf seated in the middle of the council tapped the bench with the flat of his axe. “I think everyone concerned is here. Let’s begin. Rummond if you will.” The leader of the council turned to the protectorate official.
“As you wish, Cromhold,” said Rummond, standing. “As I told you before, this lad here,” he pointed in Jakob’s direction, “came running into my office ranting about someone being in the King’s Temple. Once I got a straight story out of him, I called for Thorston and had him check out the lad’s story. I had the lad wait in my office. Thorston arrived back about an hour later, carrying that fellow.” He pointed to Mandrak. “He was half-dead. Thorston said he’d found him in the King’s Chamber and the amulet was nowhere to be seen. He left that man,” he pointed to Mandrak again, “and went back to search for the amulet. Later, when he thought it might save his hide, this lad here said there was another man, a crafter, who came out of the temple. Of course, I didn’t believe him. Thorston sent the healer, who did his best with the scribe. He hasn’t spoken yet, but he isn’t in danger of dying.”
“What’s this about a crafter?” asked Cromhold. “This is the first we’ve heard of this.”
“I’m sure there wasn’t a crafter,” replied Rummond. “The lad just invented him to save his skin. We have the thieves.”
“You think this messenger was involved in the theft?”
“Yes I do, Lord Cromhold,” replied Rummond.
“Why then, did he bring the whole affair to light, rather than slipping off quietly?”
Rummond scratched his head thoughtfully. “His friend was hurt and he thought he could get him help and still get away.”
“I see,” remarked Cromhold. “That’s an interesting theory. Thank you Rummond.” Cromhold turned to the others on the council. “Any further questions?” he asked the other members. They shook their heads. “You may sit down,” he told Rummond. “Thorston, will you tell your version of these events?” The temple official rose to his feet. “I’d just finished checking on the amulet, when Rummond called me to his office. It’s my family’s duty to guard the amulet. We check it once a week, though there has never been any need. The safeguards have always worked in the past.
“This messenger,” he pointed toward Jakob, “told us a scribe had entered the temple and not come out.”
“Did he say why he noticed this scribe?” asked Cromhold.
“No, he didn’t mention what he was doing there,” replied Thorston.
“Fine,” said Cromhold, looking in Jakob’s direction. “Continue.”
“I immediately went to check on the amulet. When I arrived at the temple, I found that scribe.” He pointed to Mandrak, “lying unconscious on the floor, burned by the amulet and about dead. The amulet was nowhere to be seen. I went for someone to help me move him, then went back to search for the amulet. It was gone. The messenger didn’t have it on his person, either.”
“Did the lad say anything to you about a crafter?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” replied Thorston.
“Thank you, Thorston,” said Cromhold. “We don’t hold you or your family responsible for the loss of the amulet. You’ve done all you were asked to do and you’ve done it faithfully.”
Thorston bowed and returned to his seat. Cromhold called the rest of the witnesses in order and the council listened to them with more patience than Jakob. He was shifting impatiently from foot to foot. Mandrak stood passively in the prisoner’s box where they had placed him. Jakob knew he wasn’t right, even if no one else here did. He wondered if he would ever be the same. No great loss, he thought again, losing track of the endless questions.
“I think we should hear from our messenger, now,” said Cromhold to Rummond. The officer motioned to the men guarding Jakob and they led him roughly to a spot in front of the council bench. “Now that we have all the particulars, I think I have a good idea what happened,” Cromhold addressed Jakob. “Perhaps you would tell me two things. First, what you were doing following Mandrak and secondly, tell me what you know about this crafter you say left the temple after Thorston.”
Jakob cleared his throat nervously and straightened his shoulders. “My superior told me to follow Mandrak, when we spotted hi
m in Madras, and see what he was doing there and where he was going. He was securing horses and supplies. My superior was curious, since Mandrak has had some less than friendly encounters with some of our people.”
“You mean fellow messengers?” asked Cromhold.
“Yes, he has a reputation for mistreating messengers. But he doesn’t usually travel, so we thought it might be helpful to our masters.”
“And if you could catch him in some wrong doing, all the better. I see,” said Cromhold. “Your master, who is he?”
“Duke Adrian Cheran,” said Jakob.
“The leader of the Jovanulum in the war,” remarked Cromhold. “We aren’t fond of spies.”
“No sir,” said Jakob, “which is why I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want to lose my right to come to Stillmont.”
“I see,” said Cromhold, “now, this story about the crafter.”
“It isn’t a story,” said Jakob defensively. “I was waiting for Mandrak to emerge from the temple. I knew he was looking for something. This was the sixth temple he’d visited. I just didn’t know what he was hunting. I still don’t know what is so special about this amulet. I only know that was what he was after because I heard the protectorate official talking. Mandrak never came out. That dwarf came out.” He pointed to Thorston. “Then Gidron Frey came out and quickly disappeared into the streets. When Mandrak didn’t come out, I wondered if Master Frey had killed him. I knew I probably wasn’t allowed in the temple, so I went to the protectorate.”
“Thank you son, for telling the truth,” said Cromhold. “It is a grave offense to come into Stillmont to spy. It was brave of you to admit that was what you were doing.” Jakob bowed, knowing his future would be in a dungeon cell and let them lead him back to his prisoner’s box.
“Mandrak,” Cromhold called to the Scribe. Mandrak looked at him, but didn’t answer. “Can you understand me?” Mandrak stood silent. Cromhold looked to the other members of the council. They rose in unison. “If you would wait here, we will be a little while,” said Cromhold.
Everyone in the room relaxed when the council left, but talked only in whispers. Jakob shifted from foot to foot nervously. Mandrak stood passively in his box. The council wasn’t gone long. They filed in and resumed their seats. Cromhold tapped his axe on the bench to call everyone to order. “We’ve considered this matter carefully. These are our findings. Mandrak entered a temple illegally and defiled the resting place of the Amulet of King Ley, which was given into our care. It appears the amulet is now in the hands of a rogue crafter. Thorston, please stand.” The temple guard rose. “We require you to recover the King’s Amulet. It was given to your family to guard. As the guard, it is your responsibility to recover it.”
Thorston bowed. “I’ll find it or die in the attempt, by my axe.” He took his axe from his belt and offered it to the council. Cromhold accepted it then returned it to Thorston. “Bring the messenger here,” ordered Cromhold. The guards let Jakob out of his box and walked him to the bench.
“You’ll go with Thorston and help him recover the amulet. We give you this task in lieu of prison. The choice is yours.”
“May I send word to my people to let them know what has happened?”
“Yes, as long as we hear the message,” replied Cromhold.
“Then I’ll go with Thorston,” said Jakob. “I don’t wish the amulet to be in Gidron Frey’s hands.”
“That’s what we thought you’d say,” replied the head of the council. “Mandrak,” he tried again to get a response from the scribe. But Mandrak didn’t respond. “You are condemned to the dungeon for the rest of your life for attempting to steal the power of the King.” Cromhold banged his axe on the bench. “This council meeting is ended. As we have spoken, let the deeds be done.”
Jakob couldn’t believe his luck as he watched the council leave. He was free and commissioned to do exactly what he’d planned on doing if he escaped the dungeon.
CHAPTER 24
“Where did they all come from?” Adrian asked Joshuas, as they stood in the watchtower looking at the sea of Dredracians spread out from the walls of Kyris. They’d been arriving for days. The gates of Kyris had been raised and secured. The town had settled in for a siege. Even with all the supplies and water they’d stockpiled, Joshuas didn’t think they had enough to endure a siege for long. They’d do better to stand and fight, though that appeared to be a hopeless cause, too.
“I never would have believed there were so many if I weren’t looking at them with my own eyes,” replied Joshuas, looking out at divisions of goblins, trolls, ogres, dark elves, darklings, rock giants, gnomes, gaunts, dark crafters and humans who’d aligned themselves with the Dredracians. He could see Jayram’s forces as well as those of the School of Fire, their scarlet and black flashing in the morning sun.
“How long before they attack?” The soldier in Adrian took over as he stared out at the overwhelming forces.
“There are still troops arriving,” replied Joshuas, “some from the east, some from the north. Word has arrived that Menas and Montshade have fallen. Barat and Barroon are holding on, with but a handful of those who chose to stay. All that are left of the Jovanulum that we are aware of in Solea are gathered here in Kyris and in the Drakmoth mountains, with the exception of the masters at the School of Sky. They wouldn’t leave Dirth to join in the fight.”
“I fear Solea is lost before the battle has even begun. The dark masters have control of all Solea with the exception of the Southern Plains and it’s just a matter of time before we fall.”
‘The mountain people still resist, as well as the forest elves. There is yet hope Adrian.”
“What of the balance?” What of all our beliefs in the balance being maintained?”
“I’m sure there is a reason behind this, Adrian. It’s just unclear. It will become clear in time.”
“I find it hard to be as hopeful as you, my friend. But I couldn’t choose another I’d want to stand by my side at the last.”
“Nor I, my lord,” replied Joshuas, looking out and knowing how many people would die in this bloody encounter, and in the ensuing battles for power and supremacy.
Brenth appeared in the doorway, clad in armor made of bronze, a large helm on his head covering his nose in the middle. He carried a pike and a sword. Even though Joshuas had told him he would be more valuable as a seer, he lined up every day with his men and trained. His own behavior was an encouragement to those who looked to him as their leader.
The Menas had all been assigned to squads, to be seers and advisors. Still, they came together as a group to drill and prepare under Brenth’s leadership. Joshuas had no doubt Brenth would bring honor to himself on the battlefield. He was glad he hadn’t given his word to protect anyone in this battle, because while he had faith in the Creator, he didn’t think many creatures of the light would survive to leave the Southern Plains.
“You asked to see me, my lord?” asked Brenth, inclining his head in Duke Cheran’s direction. He’d been chosen to be the Duke’s seer and advisor.
Duke Cheran gestured over the mass of creatures in the plains beyond the walls of Kyris. “Tell me what you see?” he said to Brenth.
The young Menas looked for several long moments over the plains. “I see many good people lost in a hopeless battle and Kyris destroyed.” Joshuas looked up in surprise to hear Brenth speak so bluntly of what he saw.
“But that’s just what might be, not what will be, isn’t that true young Menas,” asked Adrian.
“It’s what will be if our troops go out to meet the forces facing us,” replied Brenth.
“What would you have us do instead?” asked the Duke, his interest piqued by Brenth’s replies.
“I don’t believe it’s for me to say, my lord. I’m willing to die for my cause,” replied Brenth proudly.
“Tell me your idea. I’ll be the one to decide,” said the Duke.
“A head to head battle with this overwhelming force would be but a last stand for
glory. If I may say, we don’t have the people to lose, just for honor. We get those in Kyris out of the city and into the mountains. From there, we can mount raids and small offensives then disappear back into the mountains. It might take more time to make an impact, but it would be a more effective strategy.”
“Half the men here don’t know how to fight in the way you are suggesting. They’ve been trained for open field combat.”
“Then we will have to train them,” replied Brenth.
“Those creatures out there, most of them come from the mountains.”
“Most of them come from beneath the mountains. We would be on top of it, where they are loath to go. With the help of the Drakmothians, we could hide the people.”
Adrian looked to Joshuas for input. “How do you propose to get the people out of Kyris? Walk them out underneath the noses of all these forces?” asked Joshuas.
“Something very close to that,” confessed Brenth. “It’s the riskiest part of the plan. It will take the cooperation of the crafters.”
“We’re here to fight,” replied Joshuas, “and to die if needed.”
“Yes, some will die,” said Brenth, sadly. “But not as many as if we stayed.”
“What would you have us do?” asked Joshuas, thinking of the crafters in Kyris, not wanting to lose any of them. They were seasoned veterans. Some, who like him, had survived the Crafter Wars. It would be difficult to ask them to sacrifice themselves.
“Three things,” said Brenth, beginning to lay out his plan for the leaders of Kyris. “First, we need a tunnel under the walls to that copse of trees to the east.” He pointed to a small, dense growth of trees about a mile away. “One that is made quickly. Then, we need a diversion, while the people go through the tunnel.”
First Comes The One Who Wanders Page 40
