Midnight Quest

by Honor Raconteur

  “Jewel?”

  Still frowning, she turned toward the sound of Sarvell’s voice. “He’s a gift to me from Elahandra. She said that he is trained to help me.” The fact that these three wouldn’t get along in the near future…she wouldn’t mention just now. “His name is Bortonor.”

  The dog let out a soft wuff before laying his head in her lap. Considering the size of his head, that meant that he filled her lap. “Um…just how big is he?”

  “Bigger than you,” Rialt answered bluntly. “He looks full grown, he does.”

  Bigger than her?! Focusing, she put both hands on his head and started investigating, trying to develop an idea of what the dog looked like. His head was large, certainly, with a wide brow that trailed down into a round snout. His ears seemed to flop instead of stand straight up. She could feel serious muscle under all of the fur as she trailed her hands down a deep chest, sloping back, and powerful legs. The only thing completely soft was a thick tail. The tail wagged as her hands trailed over him. “He likes my attention, doesn’t he?”

  “This breed does,” Rialt informed her. “They be a mite independent, mind, and he will no smother you with love, but they like affection. You will no find its equal in intelligence, courage or devotion. He be a good gifting.”

  Thank heavens Rialt was so very familiar with the breed. She wouldn’t have the first clue on how to go about caring for him.

  “Intelligence, eh?” Sarvell drawled. “Is that why he’s looking at me in that weighing manner?”

  “Eh, just so. He be trying to decide if we be friend or foe.”

  Jewel didn’t like the implications of that. “So what if he decides you’re foes?”

  “He will no let us within arm’s reach of you.”

  “Alright, Rialt, then how do we convince him we’re friends?”

  “That will take a few days,” Rialt answered dryly. “In the meantime, Jewel will have to do the talking. He will no trust a word we say.”

  Oh…dear.

  Chapter Ten

  Bortonor turned out to be even more of a godsend than Jewel first realized.

  He did indeed know what she needed when she needed it. Whenever she stood up to go anywhere, he would nose his way under her hand so that her palm rested on his head. With that touch, he would guide her to wherever she wanted to go. He displayed a keen intelligence that made him several times smarter than some people she knew. When she spoke, he knew what she meant.

  She discovered another nice perk when she descended the stairs for breakfast that morning. With this massive dog at her side, people gave her a wide berth. The taproom had just as much of a crowd as it had the night before, but Bortonor encouraged them to back up and give her room to move. She could hear people muttering to each other as she passed, most in curiosity but a few in blatant worry.

  Jewel kept her hand tangled in her guide’s fur and a pleasantly blank expression on her face. “Bort, do you see an empty table?”

  The dog gave a soft wuff, as if in confirmation.

  “Lead me there, then.”

  He did so, pressing his head against her midriff to stop her from bumping right into the table. She patted him on the neck before letting go, reaching out with her hands to find the edge of the table and the location of the chair. When she felt the smooth wood, she traced it about for a moment to outline the shape in her mind before maneuvering into it.

  “Well,” Sarvell said as a chair scraped across the floor, “He is good. Of course, I’m not surprised Elahandra knows how to train a dog.”

  Jewel chuckled at that. “Neither am I. What should we order for him, anyway? Dogs eat meat, don’t they?”

  “The kuvasz likes sweet bread, too,” Rialt put in with a slight creak of wood as he settled into a chair to her right.

  “Let’s see what the cook has to offer, shall we?” Sarvell turned and called out for a serving girl, then placed an order for breakfast.

  As they waited for food to arrive, Jewel focused on getting more information about her new companion. “Rialt, will he be able to keep up with us on horseback?”

  “Eh, no worries. They be as fast as a trotting horse. If we break out into a full run, he might fall behind a bit, but will catch up quickly enough.” The table creaked as someone leaned their weight against it. “Jewel, a word of warning: this breed is the sensitive sort. He will react well to praise and badly to blame. Just his name in a scolding tone is enough to correct him. Never do more than that.”

  Wise words and ones that she needed to remember. “Alright. What else?”

  “Now, they be known to be very protective of children. In his eyes I think you qualify, since you be smaller than him. Do no be surprised if he overreacts to threats near you.”

  “What, like you do?” Sarvell asked in blatant amusement.

  Rialt gave a huff of annoyance at the question but didn’t answer. Jewel’s head cocked a little to the side as she considered it. Actually, now that Sarvell mentioned it, the Ramath and their dogs did have certain similar personality traits…

  “Just feed him when we eat, give him lots of praise and attention, and you have no a thing to worry about,” Rialt finished with a firm tone.

  The serving girl arrived at that point and set down plates with a distinct clap on the table. Jewel frowned at the quick and hasty steps the girl made as she skittered to the other side of the table. “You don’t need to be nervous of him. He’s a gentle dog.”

  A long, taut pause. “All the same, miss…”

  Jewel just sighed and let that battle go. “Which plate is his?”

  Sarvell reached out and grasped her hand, pushing the edge of a plate into it. “This one.”

  “Thank you.” Jewel reached out and found Bort’s head with her other hand. To no one’s surprise, he sat as close to her as he could. “Bort, back up a bit so I can put your plate on the floor.”

  The dog instantly moved back a foot, his nails scraping slightly against the wood floor as he moved. As Jewel lifted the plate and bent to put it down, she could smell day-old bread and some sort of smoked beef. He waited for her to sit up again before digging in, making happy munching sounds as he consumed his breakfast in quick bites.

  Satisfied, Jewel focused on her own breakfast of soft bread, boiled eggs, and some sort of tart fruit that she didn’t recognize.

  “Jewel, do you have a better idea of where the crystal is?” Sarvell asked.

  “It’s getting clearer,” she answered after swallowing a bite. “Perhaps another three days travel away? That’s a guess. It might be farther than that.”

  “Still, it’s closer than I feared it would be.” Sarvell sounded encouraged by her response.

  “Are there no legends about Bryn’s crystal?” Rialt asked, the sound of bread being torn accompanying his words.

  “No, not that I know of. The only thing I ever heard about it is that our crystal disappeared the same year that Ramath’s did.”

  “I suppose that no information is better than conflicting information,” Jewel allowed dryly. “And it doesn’t matter much anyway. We need to head more southeast now, instead of true south.”

  “Well, I’ll get the horses saddled, then.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “Dog.” Rialt’s tone had a strained patience to it, as if he were fighting to keep himself from snapping. “I do no mind you being protective of our lass, but you canna be so contrary.”

  Bortonor, not agreeing, let loose another growl.

  It wasn’t nice of her, but Jewel couldn’t help but giggle. It had taken only a few minutes to saddle the horses and pack up some food. Sarvell was already mounted, ready to go. But when Rialt reached out to lift her on the back of the horse, well…Bortonor stepped forward, blocking him, and let out a snarl that said to keep the distance.

  Rialt tried reasoning, trickery, and bribes…to no avail. Bortonor failed to be moved by any of it.

  Jewel, who really should have been trying to help with the situation, instead found it hilar
iously funny to listen to Rialt argue with Bortonor like he was human and not a dog. Of course, with Bortonor giving growls and short barks in return, it actually did sound like an argument in progress.

  Bortonor let out another bark, the sound low and deep.

  “Oh, a fine gentleman you are!” Rialt snapped irritably in return. “Letting a lady, your lady, walk the whole way.”

  Bortonor let out a soft whine. Jewel stifled another laugh behind her hand as the dog started caving.

  “You be here to protect her, be you no?” Rialt challenged archly. “And a fine job you would be doing, if you made her walk just for your convenience.”

  Another soft whine that transformed into a low groan. To Jewel’s ears, it sounded like defeat. She patted him on the head. “It’s alright,” she soothed, biting back a smile. “You can run alongside and be right next to me.”

  He let out a soft whine in the back of this throat. Clearly, this reassurance didn’t sit well with him, but he couldn’t find a good way to argue his point. Jewel found herself grateful that he didn’t possess the ability to actually form words. Otherwise they’d probably still be arguing at the end of the day.

  With this sorted out, Rialt put both hands around Jewel’s waist and lifted her to the back of his stallion. She held on firmly to the pommel as he lifted himself behind her, the saddle shifting a bit from side to side under his weight. With familiar ease, she leaned back against him as his arm came around to gather up the reins. With a tap of the heels, they moved off.

  Jewel’s ears were tracking all of the sound around her. At this hour of the morning, the place bustled with farmers bringing in their products for morning market, people going to work, and travelers departing for the road. With all of the noise, she couldn’t hear the click of Bortonor’s toenails as he walked. Frowning, she turned her head slightly and strained. No, she still couldn’t hear him.

  Rialt apparently noticed her actions as he queried, “Lass?”

  “I can’t hear Bortonor,” she admitted with a growing frown. “He’s right next to us, isn’t he?”

  “Eh, on our right side. Do no worry, he will no be more than a foot from you.”

  “I’m actually worried that he might be run over,” she admitted frankly, her frown only easing a hair. “The streets sound overrun with traffic.”

  “Well, there be a bit of breathing room still,” he assured her. “But do no worry about your furry friend. People be giving him a wide birth.”

  Well, as long as people didn’t hit him. She didn’t want everyone to be afraid of him of course, but she preferred that over him being hurt because of someone’s carelessness.

  When they finally cleared the city’s outskirts, she breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back against Rialt’s broad chest. As the morning passed, the air grew warmer with a gentle breeze stirring the fine hairs on her skin. The scents around her changed as well, from the crisp smell of frozen earth to the softer, tangier aroma of sunbaked dirt and greenery. She found it perfectly soothing. So soothing, in fact, that the idea of a mid-morning nap tantalized her.

  Aside from a break at noon for a quick meal, they rode straight south. Travelers on the road were few and far between and it became easier for Jewel to hear Bortonor. His breathing had a distinct rhythm as he ran alongside. It did not sound labored in any way, and she listened for any sign of it. But it seemed that Elahandra had anticipated his need for stamina and trained him in this regard as well. He kept up with perfect ease.

  They stopped for the night in a clearing off the road. Jewel, as usual, took over the task of cooking while the men saw to the horses and set up camp. Bortonor served as a guide whenever she stood up for any reason but otherwise seemed content to lay on her feet. Jewel knew full well that he chose to conquer her feet so that he could discourage her from moving. But since he also served to keep her warm in the cooling night air, she didn’t complain.

  At dawn they returned to the road and continued heading south. As they grew closer, Jewel directed them toward the east. She could feel the sun blazing directly overhead when the quick trot of the stallion under her legs slowed to a walk. “Is something ahead?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Sarvell answered from her left side. “We’re entering foothills. They’re not particularly high, not in comparison to the mountains we’ve been passing, but the initial approach is a bit steep.”

  That explained the change in pace. The road apparently had more rocks to it as well as she could hear them clatter as they were disturbed by the horse’s hooves. She couldn’t smell as much vegetation here, just grass. Apparently not much grew on the foothills.

  Once they reached the top of the hill, the road meandered up and down and in gentle curves. The men chose not to assume their fast trot from before, but stay at a quick walk. It gave Jewel an opportunity to ask questions and learn more about the men she traveled with. She had just started to wheedle some family stories from Sarvell when Bortonor abruptly stopped and let out a bark of warning.

  Rialt immediately reined to a stop and twisted in the saddle with a creak of leather. His left arm came around Jewel’s waist to hold her in place as he shifted about. “Rider coming up behind us,” he reported. “Coming fast, too. Courier, mayhap?”

  “For what?” Sarvell protested. “There’s nothing to report on in this area of the country. Not even the Daath are interested in this part of Ramath.”

  “Eh, it be strange,” Rialt agreed in a slow, contemplative tone of voice. “Let us pull off a bit and see if he be interested in us.”

  Jewel sat taut in the curve of Rialt’s arm, ears trained on the sound of rapid hoof beats coming this direction. The tempo of the horse changed a bit, probably as it crested the slope, but then it slowed altogether. So the rider had seen them? “Rialt, where’s Bort?”

  “Standing point, he be,” Rialt answered in a quiet rumble near her temple. “The rider seems intent on coming to see us. He be heading straight here.”

  Stones and pebbles clattered and shifted as the rider came closer. Several feet from them, Bort let out a warning growl and the horse abruptly stopped.

  “Do not intend harm,” the rider said to them calmly, his tenor voice carrying easily in the still air. “Chizeld Lorin, Sanhan of the Red Guard, at Priestess Jomadd’s service.”

  Oh! This must be the man that Elahandra said was coming to meet up with them. Jewel pushed Rialt’s protective arm aside and then used it to lever herself off the saddle and to the ground. “I am Jewel Jomadd. Sanhan Lorin, I am glad you finally caught up with us! Elahandra said that you were coming. Bort, stop growling at the man. He’s an ally.”

  Bort gave a discontented wuff before padding back to her and shoving his head under her arm. He pressed his body closely to her side, making it clear that he wasn’t budging until this strange man went away.

  Sounds of leather creaking and the jangle of harnesses repeated around her in quick succession as everyone dismounted.

  “Very glad to see Priestess safe,” Chizeld Lorin said with transparent sincerity as he approached her. “Did not know of danger until Elahandra awoke in the middle of the night.”

  “Eh, she did that with all of us,” Rialt grumbled to no one in particular.

  Jewel faced in the direction she heard him and gave him a smile. “Well, I’m glad that I had at least one guard that is trustworthy.” A guard from Veris, from the sound of it. Only the Verisians had that strange speech pattern. His accent was thicker than she’d ever heard, so he must be from the very heart of the clan’s territory. To have a Verisian guard wasn’t strange. The first armsman for the Thornock high priestess had been Verisian. To this day, the largest training facility and the main headquarters for the Red Guard was in Rounsefell, Veris. “Sanhan, the man behind me is Rialt Axheimer from Ramath. The one standing at my right is Sarvell Sorpan from Bryn. My furry companion who is probably glaring at you is Bortonor. He is a gift from Elahandra and very new to this company. Do not be surprised if it takes a few days for h
im to warm up to you.”

  “Greetings,” Chizeld offered.

  “We had best move,” Rialt said in a voice that was distinctly grumpy. “If this whelp can find us, others can.”

  “Ah, no, sincerely doubt that,” Chizeld disagreed with a strange inflection.

  “Oh?” Rialt challenged openly. “Be you such a marvelous tracker?”

  “Well, fair enough, but didn’t find by tracking. Did that for a week and didn’t get anywhere.”

  “So how did you find us?” Jewel queried in blatant curiosity.

  “Actually broke down and prayed this morning that Elahandra would tell location,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

  “Oooh,” Jewel responded teasingly. “A man that knows how to ask for directions. Impressive.”

  Chizeld asked slowly, “Worried about pursuit?”

  “How much did Elahandra tell you?” Sarvell asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer.

  “Not much,” Chizeld answered frankly. “Priestess in trouble. Need to go immediately. Two other men called to help. That’s it.”

  “Tell you what, Lorin,” Sarvell offered in a wry tone, “While we ride, why don’t I fill you in?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Chizeld Lorin turned out to be an interesting man.

  Jewel asked quite a few questions of him as they rode after Sarvell’s briefing of the situation. He was a third generation guardsman for the Order, and the only son of the Guard’s previous commander. He’d never been around someone that was blind before, and so asked a great many questions about her. Jewel liked his frankness and answered any question he posed. When they stopped and made camp for the night, he pitched in readily with a competent air that quietly stated he knew what he was doing.

  He even encouraged her to see him with her hands, which she appreciated as she knew that doing so made most people uncomfortable. When she traced his body with her hands, she felt a strong chest and arms that could rival Sarvell’s. He sported bristle along his jawline, but when she asked, he told her that he preferred to be clean shaven. With his pursuit of her, he hadn’t taken the time to shave in recent days. He had hair cut to military shortness, a broad forehead and a nose that had to have been broken at least three times to attain that shape.