by J P Nelson
Mahrufael’s expression was reserved and curious, “Some, why?”
“If you read my memories, could you go by that?”
The elf raised one eyebrow and squinted the other, then tilted his head and slowly manifested a mischievous grin of his own. Taking another drink he said, “Let us find out.”
___________________________
It was a bright and sunny day when Klaus and Whort Hahry drove the deersleigh into Fort William. The excuse was to pick up an odd or end of supplies, bundles of tea, thread, needles, new combs for the wives, etc. But the real reason; was the old man wanted a pouch of the hard ribbon candy Peterson kept in his store, that and wanting to hear the gossip and news from the past winter.
The first order of business of any manly man entering the town is to stop in Billy’s Tavern. There were only a few patrons at the moment; at the bar stood three men. As the two stepped through the door, the bartender noticed them and exclaimed with a robust greeting in the local language. One of the men at the bar heard the names and turned to look with excitement on his face.
The Vedoic was strong and clear, “Whortleson … Whortleson O’Hahry? My bughars it is you!” The neatly dressed man with the graying brown hair strode to meet the older man.
A broad smile crossed the brazen features of Hahry as he declared, “Ak kuno nan ukotoi … Is good see you, Albri, friend. Is much long.”
A quick glance showed the awe in every patron’s eye. Here was a man revered by all, feared by many, and he was not only touched, but hugged by this stranger. What was really astonishing, was the old man hugged him back. They looked at Albri with amazement.
Albri said, “Please, let us take a table and honor me to buy you a drink. Here, let me introduce you to my friend, Mahrufael.”
The four men took a corner table as a man with a towel over his arm rushed over to be their personal server. The talk was in Vedoic for sake of privacy. Albri explained how he and friend had come to study some old paintings in an ancient temple.
Hahry listened with keen interest and suggested, “I know cave,” he held up four fingers, “paint on wall. Much sky paint.”
Albri’s eyebrows raised, “Would it be allowed for us to see them? It is important for my study.”
The old man deliberated as if it were a grave decision. As he drank he thought some more as they were all quiet. With a jut of his jaw and a nod of his head he decided, “I show. Much …” He paused and whispered to Klaus, who whispered back, then Hahry continued, “… much respect-t. Many old ones sleep.”
“Not a problem, sir.” Albri glanced to Mahrufael, who had taken a deferred demeanor from introduction to the old man, “We will exercise much respect.”
Talk shifted to introduction of Klaus. Albri said with a smile, “You were not even a happy thought when J’Hene and I were here.”
They discussed in brief the young man’s childhood, affinity for nature and woodworking, his education in Vedoa, and plans for him to take over the House of O’Hahry.
Klaus mentioned, “It was my pleasure to meet your son, Commodore Jha’Ley.”
Albri was excited, “Jann Raul, here? Splendid! How is he?”
Klaus was silent, and Albri was suddenly aware of something amiss, “What is it, please? What is wrong?”
“Captain Ervis, of the Qua’Korr, is concerned of his absence. If the commodore has not returned to Grindstaff by now, Ervis will be en route to Sterine in search of him.”
Albri cast a glance of concern to Mahrufael. Of a sudden all his plans had changed. The father’s son was lost, and only that mattered.
“Tell me more.”
And so it was that Klaus rendered every detail he could, from the first meeting at his father’s house, stories shared, plans outlined, even the time spent at Woolburg.
“And you have been back here for how long?”
“U’Lahna journeyed here with me just more than two weeks ago. It is my understanding she will lend service to the Qua’Korr until they find the commodore.”
Albri rapped his fingertips on the table top with a steady rhythm, then turned to Mahrufael, “We have done what we can with the paintings. I know a place in Sterine …”
Mahrufael nodded his head in understanding.
“O’Hahry … may we look at the caves at another time?”
The old man closed his eyes in gesture, “It should be so.”
Albri and Mahrufael made their goodbyes and were walking to the inn where they had their gear when Klaus hailed them. As they turned to hear, he came up to them and said, “If you can but tarry for a few moments, we would escort you to our home.”
Not understanding, Albri said, “But we have means …”
“My weapons are there. I wish the honor to go by your side. I have had dreams. They are of dire combat.”
“Dire … do your dreams reveal outcomes?”
Klaus rubbed the side of his nose, “No, they do not.”
___________________________
Broken Bob’s Pub, one of Sterine’s more raucous waterfront taverns, was going strong as the four walked in. At the front was a young man, obviously a warrior type on the journey by his attire and the full sword hung behind his shoulder.
Next was a woman, her age not to be determined, but older than forty. Silver hair of shoulder length framed a face with few age lines, but the look of much hard experience. She also carried a sword on her back, like the one before her … or was it the other way around, for there was a stark resemblance it didn’t take long to notice.
A tall man with flaming red hair walked in beside a medium sized fellow carrying a head high gnarled walking stick. The former wore his sword as is customary, on his left side. A dagger worn in the belt appeared to be the latter’s weapon of choice.
As they entered and spread out a half-drunken man of great size made himself known, “Who-o-o-E-E-E! Look-yee he-YAHR! I got a sword fur yee tuh play weeth momma!” The woman ignored him.
At the end of the room a contentious arm wrestling contest was in play, with most of the patrons chanting and laying bets for the outcome. A moment of realization came across the woman’s features as a slow smile formed about her lips, brightening her face and revealing a more than average attractive woman.
The drunk made another pass at her, as someone on the other side of the room was trying to get his attention and vigorously shaking his head. As the big man reached out to touch her she walked from his advance as if unaware of his existence.
“Hey ba-a-aby-y-y … whare yah goin’?”
On the one side of the competition table was a man, perhaps six-feet-tall and clad in buckskins, at his left side hung a two-foot stick. Long brown-blonde hair flowed about his shoulders, one eye was squinted and goatee-wrapped jaw set as if applying serious tension.
To the other side was a fellow with massive arms and a sweaty home-spun tunic. His bald head was pouring sweat down into a matt of a beard, his face red with exerted strain.
Cheers resounded throughout the pub as the bald man slowly edged the other’s arm to the wood. Two marks from the table the man in the buckskins held the other off.
The drunk walked after the woman as his friend kept desperately waving his hands, “Bitch! I yam talkin’ to you-u-u.”
A wicked glare flashed through the eyes of the man in the buckskins, and suddenly he snapped his arm over into the table, the bald man flipping over sideways and into the floor as cheers and boos erupted, splashes of ale and liquor were thrown into the air.
The man in buckskins began collecting coin when he saw the woman and declared, “Well damn it all to the river. They’ll just let anyone in here. Where the hell did you come from?”
With a smile the woman replied, “It must be fate, my friend.” She nodded to the fellow with the staff, “My cleric friend---”
The drunk grabbed her by the shoulder. Before anyone knew what was happening his wrist had been broken, a knee rammed his groin, a second knee-strike shattered his nose, she ducked u
nder him and threw him up and over to land with a crash into a table, then he felt a razor sharp sword edge against his throat.
Almost without missing a syllable she continued “---received an inspiration we should come here.”
“Ah …” the two spoke as if the drunk were not in a precarious position, “… let me guess, Eayah?”
With a chuckle she said, “Goodness no. Ehl’Rohlahn … he’s a member of Logan’s order.”
A loud voiced man came in and sidled up to the bar talking to anyone who would listen, “First time I have ever seen an elf. The fellow he was with was asking if anyone had seen the Qua’Korr. I have not heard of such a ship, has anyone else? I know it has not been to this port. Not yet, anyhow.”
A voice in the room answered, “Who was doing the asking?”
“Some rube calling himself Albri …”
The man and woman looked to each other and mouth the words at the same time, “Albri?”
The woman withdrew her blade and said, “Alright fellows, down your drinks and let’s go.”
The buckskin clad man leaned down to the drunk and waving his finger said, “You are damned shittin’ lucky. That’s Feila the Flane.”
A belligerent voice called out, “And who in Hades are you?”
“Some call me Ripper, some call me a pain in the ass, but you …” he pointed a finger at the man and with a taunting grin added, “… you can call me Gordi con’Jock.”
With a deliberate turn, he followed Feila’s Four out the door as the man behind the voice suddenly blanched white, took a step back, and said in a rasping voice, “Shi-i-it-t-t me-e-e … Gordi … here?”
The barkeep slid him an ale and said, “Here yo, I think you might be needin’ this.”
Chapter 57
WHEN DESSI OPENED the metal door behind the desk, there was no whoosh of stale air. The tunnel within had clearly seen much recent use. The walls were of smooth, polished rock that had been hewn to precision long ago.
As Jha’Ley stepped in, rubbing his hand through his hair in deep thought, he observed the walls, ceiling and floor were exactly the same dimensions. He made a bet to himself it must be exactly seven feet top to bottom and side to side. He wondered, ‘How …’ then shook his head. There were much more important things to consider at the moment.
Somewhere out there, maybe even close by, was Old Uncle. But where? What really had Jha’Ley buggered was the nagging thought the old man knew they were there. So … if he knew … why had he not made himself known? Was he hiding? If so, why?
Was Captain Liam trapped in the gulf? Of course he was, if that was indeed, the old captain that is. But if it was, what was he doing there? He was supposed to be dead, sailed off years ago into the wild blue yonder to die in peace.
The commodore leaned against the tunnel wall, oblivious he was being watched by Seedle. He thought to himself, ‘Is there any real evidence this person is Liam in the first place? Just because we saw plans of his craft, it means nothing. There could be a pirate hiding around here. The workings of the criminal mind could be keeping him or her for that matter, away from fear of discovery. And if it is, indeed, Old Uncle, what evidence would he have to know it was me, Jann Raul in command of these ships?’
At the door of the tunnel, Dessi handed Seedle an old jug and made comment, “Smell this, it was found among the refuse in the room, it stinks to the dragon.”
Seedle took the jug as Jha’Ley stared into the floor, “Whew-w-w … that is rank.”
Shaking the jug, he could hear something solid break loose and make a muffled rattle on the inside. Tipping the bottom up, something fell out as he exclaimed, “Damn me, what are these?”
With bland expression and still looking down, Jha’Ley made comment, “They are called vesil nuts.” Both Dessi and Seedle looked to the commodore as he added, “Let us be underway, gentlemen. There is much work before us.”
Eight men set forth through what may be a maze, each with weapons at the ready. The tunnel led through the rock in perfect angles and curved not in the slightest. There was evidence of various kinds of rodents and other creatures having lived down there, but not of late, and they found bones of small creatures which had been picked clean.
It turned out there were two junctions, one led to the left and down a course of stairs into what must have been a type of hospital, and one to the right which led to the lakeside port.
Following the halls revealed staircases which led up and down. There was no incline, all was perfectly level, and ever-so-often there was a closed door in the hallways. The tunnel to the port was joined by another tunnel which eventually led up a staircase to a ruin in the village. These passages indicated much recent use.
Candle holders with candles were found mounted on the wall at irregular intervals, and by look of the burn marks the tunnels had been traversed with regularity in the last year.
Jha’Ley remarked, “Let us leave the doors to themselves, at least for the time, even though some show evidence of use. I want to see if the long tunnel eventually leads to the castle.”
Dessi remarked, “It bears no resemblance to the Rock Tower, does it sir?”
With an expression of irony the commodore answered, “Well, they both were cut through stone …”
Seedle passed a humorous glance from Fizer to Dessi as he touched his blade against a door, “If we had a healer, maybe a wizard, we could make an adventure of exploring all through these doors and what forth.”
Toagun asked, “What’s the deal, cob, you wanting to traipse in dungeons looking for treasures?”
Seedle shrugged his shoulders, “Why not?”
Toagun chuckled as Dessi wryly said, “He would be likely to awaken an ancient dragon---”
Suddenly the floor beneath Seedle’s feet fell open. The men were scattered out, but he caught hold of Toagun’s bow with one hand as Dessi’s instincts made him jump forward. The three men behind Toagun jumped back. Toagun, however, was standing on the edge of the floor, tottering his balance as he tightly held the stock of his weapon, Seedle having dropped and wildly swinging by one hand as he held his blade with the other.
Dessi yelled, “Hang on …” as he looked to see what to do. Jha’Ley was forward and turned back to see what was amiss. Dallio had his hand on a candle holder which had folded out from the wall, his intent was to light the thing.
Seedle, Toagun and Dessi were looking at cruel looking spikes fifteen feet below, and Toagun was still trying to keep his footing. As assortment of skeletons were arranged among the spikes.
Seedle flashed a rather desperate glance from the spikes to the double point arrangement of Toagun’s weapon. In a rasping voice he said, “This … would not … be a good time … to fire that thing …”
Toagun was holding on for all he was worth and rasped back, “Do … you … owe me … any money …”
Caroll was immediately to one side of Toagun and another man to the other. They got Seedle up as Jha’Ley stepped beside Dallio and pushed the candle holder back up into place. In a moment, the floor began to rise back up where it had split and opened downward.
Everyone was watching it rise as Seedle wiped his brow and looked to Toagun, “I do not think so.”
Dessi asked, “What was that about adventuring, my friend?”
Seedle raised his eyebrows, “Uh … actually … I was thinking of you, you know?”
Jha’Ley asked, “You alright?”
“Yessir.”
The commodore gave a hard look to the candle holder that Fizer was now inspecting, “Maybe … we should touch nothing …”
Toagun glared at Seedle, “You got hand sweat on my bow.”
Seedle grinned, “You are lucky shite does not fall upward.”
Ever more careful, they moved on. Then they found a human skull lying against the tunnel side. It was old and had been picked clean of any flesh, but the question was, where was the body? Around a corner and down another fifty rods was a staircase filled with rotting rubbl
e. Sprawled about the entrance was the decades old remains of a human body, presumably which belonged to the skull. It was well adorned in leather studded armor. A simple inspection revealed the man was most likely murdered. A crossbow shaft had been imbedded in the torso from the back. Jha’Ley was giving the shaft a close inspection, and then he removed the bolt-head from within the bones.
Toagun said, “You look like you know something commodore.”
Jha’Ley did not answer. He broke the shaft and angrily tossed it to the side.
Dallio offered, “Sir, if I may, I can climb up through this.”
Several of the men looked up through what seemed to be a path.
“Very well, but be careful. Take one of these hooded lanterns.”
The Marine took his time and went up around the staircase. His lantern glow was still visible to the group when it came to a stop. They could here him yell back, “I found a trap door in this mess. Got a way out. I think I can see light.”
When he returned, Dallio was excited, “We will have to watch where we put out hands and feet, but getting up will be no problem.” He motioned with his hand, “Someone has been using this as a path for a while … got hand- and foot-holds everywhere. But it has been dug out. Whoever put that trap door in place made it out of … well … out of a regular door.”
Up through the path in the rubble the men crawled, until finding themselves in a lower level room looking heavenward, out collapsed and rotting floors into the early evening sky; they had entered the main structure of the castle ruins. A stonework stair led up and allowed them to step out into the main ward.
As they gazed around, Seedle commented in awe, “It kind of makes you feel insignificant and small, what with it being so barren, the height of these walls ... and look at the size of that gatehouse.”
About two hundred feet from the wall where they emerged, the imposing structure of Seedle’s focus loomed. Dallio’s eyes went to the top of the structure, “… shite! At has got to be every bit of thirty rods to the crenellation opening.”
