“Go to the civil hall. You'll find Ravion there.” The alfar disappeared in the same glow of orange.
***
Ink rolled off the tip of the feathered quill, soaking into the rough parchment. A single candle rested in its holder dimly lighting the newly constructed room. The walls were made of polished cherry and were lined with shelves of books, stands, and tapestries. It was a bit more extravagant than he needed, but the architect insisted. A heavy knock echoed from the other side of the door. Ravion flipped the page, shuffling several others over the top. Resting the quill in its silver holder, he interlocked his fingers and rested his elbows on the desk. "Enter."
The door creaked open revealing a skinny man clad in the silver and blue emblem of Shadgull. He stepped in to the room. "Lord Ravion, I bring word from Lord Erik De Leon, of Shadgull. He seeks audience with the Lords of Dalmoura, in regard to his father's murder."
Ravion stood, approaching the messenger. "When does he desire this audience?”
“The next full moon, My Lord. In two weeks’ time.”
Ravion stopped in front of the man. “Please inform your master of my deepest condolences. The news of Remle's passing was unfortunate. He was a good man, whom I held the highest respect for. Sadly, I will not be able to attend. Pressing matters of the state have occupied my time of late, and I'll be unavailable at the time of your lord's gathering. Perhaps I can meet with him when I pass through Shadgull in the next few days. Otherwise, It'll have to wait until I return.”
The messenger nodded, taking a step back. “Understood, My Lord. I shall inform him of your reply, upon my return.” He paused, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the dimly lit study. Finding his words, he continued. “My master also wished me to extend his condolences to you in regard to the loss of your friend, Malakai. He offered to host a grand celebration in his honor, if you so desired. Additionally, it seems Master Gareth and Master Kane have both have vanished without a trace. My lord was wondering if you've heard from them. Their absence has been noticed.”
Ravion shook his head. “No thank you, that won’t be necessary. Malakai's loss is regrettable. Though his memory will live on. As for Gareth, no, sadly I've not. I haven't seen him since the Dreu War. It's been over a year now. I question his fate, but the old cuss is too damned stubborn to die.” Ravion chuckled, silently hoping his friend was okay. “Kane on the other hand had some business up north. That's part of what keeps me from joining Erik."
“Thank you, My Lord. I'll be sure to inform my master of this knowledge. I wish you good fortune in your endeavors.”
Ravion nodded. "Thank you, messenger. Be sure to replenish your rations and seek lodging for the evening. You may return to your master in the morning." He extended his fist dropping a handful of silver into the man's hand.
The messenger bowed and backed out of the room, refusing to turn his back until he was out of sight. Waiting for the door to latch, Ravion returned to his desk and uncovered the document. Quickly finishing his missive, he rolled the parchment and blobbed the sealing wax over the lip. Firmly pressing his stamp into the cooling puddle he waited, letting it harden. Removing the tool he inspected the seal, ensuring the raven perched atop the wolf's head was clearly visible. Tucking the scroll into his vest, he turned to leave. Reaching the door, he heard another knock. Pulling the ornate, wooden barrier toward him he stared at the half-orc waiting on the other side. “Krenin, my friend. I'm happy to see you. We were worried something had happened to you.” Placing his hand on the half-orc's shoulder, he invited him in. “I was just getting ready to leave, but I can spare a few moments for returning friends.”
“Seems much changed since I left.” Krenin stepped into the room, looking for a chair large enough for his frame. Not seeing one, he parted his feet enough to stand comfortably.
“Much indeed, though not all of it has been good. We lost Malakai in the Dreu War, but his death was not in vain. He ensured my survival and toppled a dreu city in the process.”
Krenin stared at the perfectly seated floor boards. The news cut him deeper than any blade could. “Malakai was a good friend and brother. I'll miss him.”
“As will I, my friend. As will I. I wish I had time to hear all about your endeavors, but unfortunately I'm running a bit behind schedule. I would have a task of you, if you're so inclined.”
“What you need?”
“I have a caravan leaving for Marbayne in the morning. Would you do me the favor of ensuring it arrives unmolested? There's a fair amount of information contained in the cargo that I can't risk falling into the wrong hands. I'd feel much better about it if you were to accompany it.”
“If it means I don't have to walk home.” Krenin gave a toothy smile.
“I don't foresee that being a problem. If all goes according to plan I'll be there in about a week. I'll bring you up to date on everything when I arrive. Feel free to make yourself at home. I, unfortunately, have to run.”
“Travel well. See you in a week.”
Ravion extended his hand feeling the half-orc lock his meaty palm around his forearm. Pulling him close, they exchanged a brotherly hug and parted. “I'm glad you're home.” Ravion spun around and headed for the door.
***
The golden fields danced in the evening air. Ravion could see the forested mountains in the distance. Ensuring he wasn't followed he darted across the open and took cover in the rocky outcropping. Studying the rocks he found the hidden trail. Quickly navigating the narrow ridge he stepped out onto the overlook. He could see the spires of the reconstructed keep towering above the sparse trees and jutting stone. Had he not known what to look for they would have blended in perfectly with their surroundings.
The moon reached its peak height, beaming its glowing white onto the outstretched ledge. He watched it inch ever closer to its mark, reflecting off the glossy finish of the stone. The individual beams launched from one to the next, encompassing him. Moving into position a single beam of focused light shot forth, illuminating the darkened ravine. The reflected moonlight burned bright, revealing the correct path as if it was the only possible option in the maze of trails. At a near run, careful to reach the ground before the light faded, he stepped onto the grassy landscape amazed at the elegance of the sight before him.
The huge fortress grounds stood radiantly in the moonlight just outside an equally large cavern. Ravion approached, making sure he was clearly visible. There was little worry they'd mistake him for an intruder, but there was no sense in taking unneeded risks.
Seeing him approach the mul'daron guards snapped to attention. Silently waiting for him they offered salute and returned to their ease once he'd passed.
Ravion nodded, acknowledging each one. They were loyal to Senaria. That alone meant they had his respect. Marching toward the entrance with purpose, he stepped into the courtyard. Several stone runs were lined with food of various color and shape. It was unlikely enough to sustain their full number, but it would at least supplement them until the fields could grow to fruition. Making his way along the stone walkway he watched the heavy, reinforced wooden doors swing open. There was no denying they'd done wonders for the place. Nearly all the rotten wood had been replaced. The moss had been scraped from the stone. Even the damaged walls had been restacked and mortared into place. This keep may as well have been a different construct from the last time he'd seen it.
He stepped through the doors, remembering the face of each guard he passed. Entering the common room he turned and marched toward the stairway running beside the grand hall. He was not here for ceremony. There was no since in taking the long way around. Cresting the top he followed the balcony around and came to another, smaller set of stairs. A guard stood posted on each side of the closed door. “Is she in?”
“Yes, My Lord. She's expecting you.”
Ravion pulled the brass ring, opening the decorated barrier. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and smiled at the figure across the room. Senaria stared out the large
, open window overlooking the courtyard, ground, and cavern beyond.
Ravion walked past the polished table running the length of the room. Its chairs were all pushed in neatly, showing no one had used it recently. The room was empty and barren, save for the table in the center and the pair of them. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his chin on her shoulder. “Have I told you I missed you?”
“Every time we're apart.” She reached up, gently touching his cheek. She threw her arms over his neck and passionately kissed his lips. Pulling back she stared into his eyes, feeling lost in their pensive gaze. "I'm glad you've come. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me." She joked, keeping her arms around him.
“Never. Nothing in this realm nor any other could ever make me forget about you.”
“There'd better not be. I'd hate to have to march to the ends of Ur just to remind you.” She smiled, kissing him lightly. “I have a gift for you.”
“Oh?” Ravion released her, taking a step back. “It seems great minds think alike. I've also come bearing gift.”
“Really? Well, you first.”
Ravion reached beneath his vest and retrieved a red leather tube. Handing it to her, he waited for her to remove the end and remove the parchment within. “The deed to this keep and the one thousand acres it rests upon has been put in your name. You're officially a landowner.”
She read over the stacked parchment, reviewing each one as if it was the key to her future. Rolling it up and tucking it back into the tube, she threw her arms around him, hugging tight. “Thank you. I can't begin to explain what this means for us.” Kissing him deeply, she looked up smiling. “Are you ready for my gift?”
He couldn't help but find comfort in her expression. Her every action brought him joy. “Is it a turnip? You know how much I love turnips.”
She chuckled. “No silly, it's not a turnip. You hate turnips.” She marched past him to the head of the table, guiding him by his arm. Reaching beneath the thick, wooden top she pulled a hidden lever. The table clicked and a drawer popped out of the perfectly matched wood grain. She pulled the compartment open and reached in grabbing a dirty, bloodstained leather satchel. Handing it to him, she waited for him to inspect it.
Ravion glanced over the bag. It was caked in mud, showing it hadn't been opened recently. Where the mud wasn't pressed into the seams he could see a mixture of black and red blood. “Awe, beautiful. You shouldn't have. It's even my favorite color.” He smiled, taunting her.
“Very funny, asshole. Open it.”
Ravion found the wooden clevis. Flipping the button through the slit he pulled the flap open and looked inside. A shimmering black book rested inside, unnaturally clean despite the filth of the bag. He pulled it free, inspecting the exterior. Not so much as a speck if dirt clung to the radiating cover or pressed yellow pages.
"We’ve broken through the collapse of the cavern and found the catacomb deeps. My scouts encountered a few dreu patrols, but they were nothing they couldn't handle. It seems their lines have been broken. For the time being they're unorganized and without command. I don't know how long it's going to last, but we're doing everything we can to keep them that way. This book was found by one of these patrols.”
“What’s in it?” Ravion couldn't help but feel like she was keeping something from him. The thought took him back to their first meeting when they didn't trust each other. Opening the book he glanced at the flaky, aged pages within. To his surprise, they were completely blank.
“I don’t know. It’s only part of your gift. Perhaps the second part can shed some light on the subject.” Senaria let out a sharp whistle.
Ravion heard several footsteps echoed off the stone and wood floors, making their way down the hallway. One of the side doors open, revealing a group of mul'daron scouts. Ravion couldn't recall ever meeting this particular unit. The soldiers escorted a bound man into the room. He was broad but the tattered rags clothing him were much too big. He had a brown woolen bag over his head and judging by the way it covered his face, he was more than likely gagged as well. Despite the loss of weight and obvious physical changes, that red glow was all too familiar. “Gareth?”
The soldiers brought him to a stop and pulled the bag from over his head, revealing the scar running along the right side if his face. The damaged eye socket was sunken but the wound was healed. They untied his bindings, letting him carry his own weight. Rangar leaned over to the man. “As promised, you're a free man now.”
Gareth squinted against the overwhelming light. He'd been in darkness so long his eyes had trouble adjusting. A muffled voice echoed across the room, too distorted to make out. He felt a comfort in the room that he hadn't expected. He wasn't sure if it was his impending freedom or something else, but for the first time in months, maybe longer, he felt at ease.
“Gareth, what the hell happened to you?” Ravion ran over, inspecting his friend and brother.
“Ravion?” Gareth questioned aloud. “I'll be damned, they were telling the truth. Guess that means I don't have to kill them all now.”
Senaria approached, laying her hand on Ravion's shoulder. She was careful to keep her love between herself and the wild dreuslayer. There was no telling what he was capable of and she didn't want to risk him lashing out. “He's still got some fight in him. When my men found him he took out nearly thirty of them before he collapsed without a scratch. I don’t know what he is, but he's got some kind of power I’ve never heard of before. The satchel was in his possession. If I had to guess, I’d say he has some answers.”
Ravion was lost in the sight of his friend. He was nearly a completely different person, yet that vibrant personality still burned bright as ever behind at single, unhindered eye. He spun around and kissing her as deeply as he could. “You've returned my brother. I'm eternally in your debt.”
Senaria smiled. “You don't own me anything. I love you. I want your happiness, nothing more.”
Ravion returned his focus to Gareth. “I don’t know what you've been through or if you'll even believe what I say. We both know what tricks the dreu can play on a mind. But I promise you this is real. These people are my friends and I hope you can find the truth to that.” He pressed a round token into Gareth's hand.
Gareth closed his hand around the badge feeling the engraved surface forming a raised trident. Bringing it to his face he focused, letting his sight adjust to the sigil. Looking over the badge, unique among its kind, he studied the markings recognizing it as Ravion's. His gaze shifted back to the dalari scout.
“I believe you.” Grabbing hold of the smaller man, he pulled him tight.
Chapter XI
The Hawk and the Wyrm
Bits of dust lingered in the air of the neglected council room, displayed only by the beaming sunlight through the stone trimmed windows. The trident engraved in layers on the thick wooden table resting in the center of the room was partially obstructed by the dirty, unopened satchel.
Rubbing his hand over the short stubble of his freshly shaven head Gareth paused, adjusting the strap holding his eye patch in place. He hadn't grown accustomed to the feel of it yet, but it made him a bit more sightly. Leaning back in his form fitted chair he listened to the wood creak beneath his weight. Growing impatient, he slammed the front legs back to the wooden floor. A loud crack echoed out, grabbing the attention of the others in the room. “How long are we going to wait?”
Ready to fight, Ravion snapped around finding the source of the commotion. Relieved it was nothing more serious he lowered his guard. “Just a while longer. He said he’d be here.” Continuing his ritual he paced back and forth, allowing his usually calm demeanor to dissolve with each step.
The chamber door creaked open revealing a black cloaked figure in the shadows of the upper keep levels. He stepped into the room, unnaturally finding every available shadow to cloak his face.
Ravion froze, watching the figure enter the room. Ready to spring into action he held fast, hopin
g it wouldn't come to that. Glaring his discontent, he spoke. “Thank you for answering my missive. Would you care to explain why you broke into the vaults?” Unsure if he was making the right decision he slowly approached, leaning against the back of his own chair.
A sadistic, yet calm voice echoed from the shadow. “Let’s not play coy. You know why I've come.” Drawing his sword he smiled, watching the others tense at the sight of steel. Without a word he laid it on the weapon rack. Quickly laying the remainder of his weapons to rest he lowered the hood, revealing his face to the men and tossing the cloak over the stand. Approaching one of the five chairs he took a seat.
Ravion kept his eyes locked on the familiar face. It didn't disarm him in the slightest. “I know exactly why you’re here. You didn’t answer my question, Kane.”
Levithion kicked his feet up, letting them rest on the well-made table. Bits of dirt and mud fell from the soles of the leather boots, littering the surface. “I don’t go by that name. It’s Levithion.”
Gareth lunged forward, unable to control himself. Getting a better look at the dark warrior he let his words fly. “I don’t give a damn if you’re going by Remle De Leon now. He asked why you broke into the vaults. You could have easily gained access without attacking the city with a unit of dreu!” The name of the vile race left a distasteful film in his him mouth. Spitting it to the floor he glared at the man, awaiting an answer.
The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2) Page 13
