by 5kops
"I am sorry, sir" she stammered, blushing at his scrutiny. "I had not meant to jostle you."
"My lady, it was no fault of yours," Arawnn said, bowing. "I was admiring the scent of food and was not paying attention. My friend and I have not had a good meal in weeks. Do you think you could bring us a few slices, perhaps from the haunch?" Arawnn smiled at the young server and winked. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "I would be very appreciative."
"You must not have been here before, good sir?" She looked at him curiously.
Arawnn shook his head.
She giggled and said, "This is the night one of the local lords, Lord Bar-bury, comes into our establishment. His is the caravan you see there. To show his appreciation, he purchases three roast pigs and allows any man to take his share."
Arawnn groaned inwardly, but chuckled. He was glad that he had not stolen any of the meat; it would have only made him look like a fool in front of the entire tavern.
I should say thank you and walk away, he mused.
Seeing his disappointment the serving maid added with a shy smile, "If you'd like, though, I'd be happy to bring you both full plates and some ale as well."
For the first time Arawnn noticed the woman's green eyes. She was quite pretty—a slender frame, flowing dark brown hair, and an angular face. He glanced over at Areck to see how his companion was faring.
"I would be honored to receive such service, my lady, but I think we should start with names. I am Arawnn of Almassia and my dour friend over there is Areck. We are mercenaries who have not yet earned our lastnames," he chuckled, raising his hand in a gentlemanly salute. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
****
When Areck looked back to see Arawnn conversing with a pretty young serving wench, he sighed with annoyance. I should have stayed with him, he reprimanded himself, realizing that by entering the room and picking out a seat, he had left Arawnn to get into trouble.
Now, the royal courier was pointing him out to a giggling young lady, which made him duck his head and nearly fall off his stool. As he caught his balance and looked up, Areck turned red at the humiliation. He tried in vain to conceal his face, hoping that no one would recognize him as a Squire of the Hand. Knowing that his efforts would be in vain, he dropped his gaze to the table, trying unsuccessfully to melt into the oaken post he was leaning against.
After several moments of Areck staring down at the table, he again looked up. This time the courier was walking toward him with a pair of mugs in each of his hands, followed by the serving wench carrying two heaping plates of roasted meat, cheese, and bread. His friend looked full of mischief and mirth.
Such a good-hearted fellow, Areck thought, reflecting on the vision he'd had only an hour ago. He told himself that even though the courier was becoming his friend, according to the Code, he could not allow himself to alter history. Plus, he was honor-bound to decipher the vision before he informed Arawnn of the matter.
The possibility of sacrificing his friend to catch a traitor did not sit well in Areck's heart. Yet what, he wondered, can be done about it? Before he could further ponder such possibilities, a laughing Arawnn reached the table followed by the wench, who laid both platters in front of them.
"Well, are you going to thank Kristina for her kindness, my friend?" Arawnn broke through his thoughts.
Areck reddened at his rudeness. The Code demanded he treat peasants as equals. I should have been paying more attention, Areck thought, rather than trying to hide my embarrassment from customers.
Not really knowing how to handle a woman, Areck called upon what he had heard from fellow knights: he stepped away from his chair, dropped to one knee, and took her small hand. He was sure the maneuver looked quite ridiculous, but it was the only way he knew how to act. "If you will let me, my lady, I would like to apologize for my rudeness. I am honored that you would bring such plentiful rations to our table."
She gave a quick curtsy and glanced towards the bar but saw no one looking in her direction. "Please get off the ground before the barkeep sees my lack of work."
Kristina's reply made Areck hurry to his feet, realizing that his actions might draw attention to himself, and more important, get the young lady in trouble.
She giggled at the gesture and looked at Arawnn. "For a mercenary he has the manners of one of those knight-men. If only more men had such an earnest look about them!"
With a wink Arawnn gave a mock bow. "You mean like this?" Deftly, he reached out and pinched her rear.
Kristina gave a slight jump and squeaked—doing her best to look somewhat affronted. "I best get back to work before Elijah gets it in his head to make me wash platters! He doesn't like it much when we talk with the customers." The woman then winked at Arawnn, patted his face gently, and whispered something in his ear. The effect made the royal courier cough up his ale. She curtsied again toward Areck and flounced towards a large table of men who were being very vocal about needing large pitchers of ale before the show started.
With a wistful expression, Arawnn's eyes followed her; whatever she said had certainly increased his interest. "She is a magnificent creature, is she not?" Arawnn said, finally bringing his attention back to the squire.
Areck followed the courier's gaze, a smile splitting his face. Though Kristina was a beautiful woman, nothing could compare to the majesty of Elyana.
"I have been to many taverns, balls, and inns in my travels, Areck. The funny thing is, I think she might be the most beautiful peasant I have ever seen—outside of those twins I met in Kyelund," Arawnn chuckled.
Areck could only shake his head at the comment. It did not seem like a good way to conduct affairs: judging a woman by her looks, social standing, or the money the wealthy so often flaunted. He wanted to tell his friend that beauty was never a true reflection of a person's inner value, since that was lost in a lifetime. In other circumstances he might have explained Stars-gait's teachings—that a person's value lay in their heart, with deeds of compassion, love, and acceptance. But most people already knew such things but refused to accept them as facts.
Who am I to tell another man bow to love? Areck thought. This man will most likely never return to Aresleigh. Why not look, for something to appeal to the eye, given a lifestyle such as his? Actually, I can think of several reasons not to, he concluded. However, the choice isn't mine to make.
Areck decided that he would guide his friend around the town without offering advice unless it was asked for. With a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was paying any attention to him, Areck pulled a knife from his belt, stuck a piece of meat, and began to devour the food in front of him.
7
THE TWISTING Oak was not as grand as some of the more costly inns, yet it was known for bringing in quality entertainment considering the coin spent. On previous occasions Areck had seen jugglers, sword artists, storytellers, and bards who sang of times long forgotten or the great empires to the far-east. His personal preference had always been tales re-telling Ars-goth's history, sometimes discussing the valor and heroes of the Bre'Dmorian Knighthood.
It wasn't until someone dressed in dark green hose, a silk jacket, and long flowing cape stepped onto the stage that Areck felt the first tingle of divine magic and finally looked up from his meal. What greeted him was a young man who had a trimmed beard, stark grey eyes, a green hat that sported a dragon's talon, and a pair of silver pins attached to either side of his cape—which declared the man a professional troubadour of some renown. Areck could only stare; he had met several younger entertainers just getting into the business, but none had bore the markings of a professional bard, nor accumulated enough recognition to earn a single pin.
The man must be a master lyricist, Areck thought, wondering how a man of such stature ended up in the Twisting Oak Inn. Maybe he belongs to Song & Stories! The thought excited him. The Song & Stories guild was an elite conglomeration of similarly minded bards, usually seeking to pass on their knowle
dge and resources to like-minded agents. The rumors said agents of Song & Stories were common in Aresleigh yet they were not openly discussed, as the kingdom would exercise its right to tax those who gathered for profit on knowledge.
The young man seemed to feel the squire's stare and turned to regard his audience. With a slight nod, he glanced at Areck and locked eyes momentarily before gazing at the rest of the hall.
Areck got the distinct impression the man was looking for something specific—or someone—a theory that intensified when his stomach started to clench. He could almost feel the man's divinity reaching out. And then, as abrupdy as it started, the divine magic ceased. Areck took a deep breath and looked up, noticing the man's gaze had stopped at a point near himself. As a Bre'Dmorian, Areck's eyes instinctively followed the gaze of the professional entertainer past several tables, the overhang of a balcony, and into the shadows of the far wall.
Unfortunately, when a large man bumped into Areck, he was forced to drop his eyes and allow the man to pass or be pushed from his seat. When he looked back up, he saw only the shadow of a slender figure making its way towards the far end of the stage.
A woman, Areck thought. By the way she was sneaking in the crowd, Areck concluded that she was attempting to remain hidden. As he craned his neck to get a better view of her, the woman came out of the shadows. However, before he saw her face, another sharp tingling sensation ran through his fingers and an intense stabbing pain filled his head.
Coundess possibilities ran through his mind. Areck looked away from the shadowed woman and scanned the room—his curse was never wrong; someone with significant divine presence besides the troubadour was in the tavern.
Maybe Lord Silversbield has sent a messenger to deliver new orders'. He thought, as a cool shiver of excitement coursed through his body.
"Expecting someone?" Arawnn asked dryly.
With an annoyed sigh, Areck sat back down. "I think one of my order has entered the room. Maybe the commander has sent someone to retrieve us."
"Is this a common practice among you Bre'Dmorians?" Arawnn asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it is obvious that you didn't wish to come here tonight, Squire," Arawnn said, "but I wasn't expecting you to look for someone to save you from my presence."
Areck frowned. "You have my word, Arawnn, that someone exuding divine power has entered the room. I know this because God has granted me the ability to sense the presence of divine practitioners."
The skepticism on Arawnn's face was enough to make Areck cease trying to explain. It was obvious that the man did not believe his story.
"You are a squire so I know that you cannot lie, but since that bard came on stage, you have been scouring the room. What do you expect to find with this . . . ability?" Arawnn asked, finally breaking the awkward moment.
"Honestly, I don't know. Like I already said, I believe it signifies that one of the knighthood is in this room. Yet, it feels odd; even though I first noticed the divine aura when that bard stepped on the stage, I don't think he's the one causing this particular feeling. It wasn't until I noticed the man's gaze stop on a shadowed female that I felt the sensation intensify."
"Did you see her face?"
"No. Why?"
"I was just curious," the cheerful nature of the courier returned. "I was following your gaze and saw the woman you speak of ... a gorgeous creature!"
"Did you not hear what I just said?" Areck asked in exasperation.
"I heard you, Areck." Arawnn smiled. "However, the night is young and unless you know who it is, there are other options to be had!"
Areck grumbled at the courier's comment, but did not argue. Instead, he ignored the remark and continued on with his line of thinking. "My senses are limited in here. Maybe we should walk around a bit? If someone is looking for us, it might help to move towards the doors."
"If someone is looking for us, then to move would only lengthen the process. My advice is we stay here."
Areck knew the courier was right. A Bre'Dmorian messenger would find them if they were needed, and if not, at least he now knew there were more Bre'Dmorians than Lord Silvershield and himself who visited the Twisting Oak.
With his nerves calmed, Areck turned his attention back towards the woman but she was no longer in sight. With a frown he turned towards Arawnn and asked about the "gorgeous creature." Areck was surprised with the amount of detail the courier remembered. From the description, he gathered that the woman had flowing blonde hair, finely chiseled features, and a regal bearing. He guessed that was why she was sneaking around; she was of noble birth, come to see her favorite bard in a common inn.
Areck was about to comment on the assumption when the master bard commanded the attention of the room. The audience quieted and the bustling ceased, leaving only the whispers of serving maids to be heard.
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Ye who have not heard this story must listen now! From the depths of the Forsaken Lands comes the story of Anduin of Ar-doc. Bear witness to the last ride of the First Lightbringer and the birth of thy kingdom!"
There was no greater story than hearing a lament of the First Knight, a story meant for the halls of high ranking nobles, possibly even the king. Though Areck had played a joke on his friend, the Twisted Oak was definitely not the kind of place to play such high-minded ballads. Yet, here was a master bard about to begin the solemn tale regarding the history of the kingdom and the knightly order which protected it. It made the tingling in his hands intensify.
The man's beautiful tenor was deep enough to gather the emotions that Anduin of Ardoc must have felt when Hell first opened and the ferryll had flown like an obsidian river out of the Great Devoid. The evil race of demonic creatures—who had destroyed the northwestern portion of Aryth and burnt the Ten Kingdoms of Kal'un'Dell to the ground—had then turned their eyes to the south. They had killed hundreds of thousands in the invasion.
When all hope was lost, a young officer, Anduin of Ardoc, was given apocalyptic visions by Starsgalt, the One True God of mankind. Guided by the god-granted vision, Anduin allowed Starsgalt to lead him deep into the greatest peaks of the Dragonspine Mountains, where he was anointed the First Lightbringer, Champion of Law and Order. As Anduin walked down the mountain the land begin to shake, and the chaos that had spread through the lands begin to tremble. For God had armed Anduin of Ardoc with holy fire and the Band of Sunlight, a small bracelet embedded with unearthly jewels that shone brighdy in the face of non-existence.
With God's power at his disposal, Anduin had used the Band of Sunlight to unify the broken lands against the invasion. His first decree was to create others like himself, those who would accept the holy fervor of Starsgalt as a way of life. The decision had turned the tide of war, and Anduin Lightbringer began a crusade against the demons, using the holy fire to slice through the chaos that surrounded them.
History would tell that victory came swiftly and that the world had recovered. However, so many died against the ferryll that the men burning the bodies lost count and the historical record held no number for the amount of dead. Areck's friend Vandallan speculated that the corpses were piled so high that they topped oak trees before being burned with purging holy fire.
Thus Anduin created the Bre'Dmorians, which in the old tongue meant Guardians of Law and Order, to protect Arsgoth from chaos. It was his last sacrifice before he was divinely inspired to venture into the Great Devoid to seal the rip in Hell.
Areck loved this story; it was exciting, factual, and tragic. The war to drive the ferryll back into Hell had consumed Anduin. Not that he disagreed with the sacrifice, but it concerned him that God would demand a purge which forced mankind into following Him. The bard didn't say it, but in those days the Bre'Dmorians had burned those unable to see the redemption Starsgalt offered.
"Thus, my friends, time never forgets such things, tales of valor and tragedy! It is just a moving current that carries on, with litde regard for mortals! Thus en
ds the first tale of Anduin of Ardoc!"
Areck was not surprised that the bard had masterfully spun the ancient tale, expertly stirring emotions within the room. Areck himself had been drawn in by the verses, moved in ways he had never imagined; a greater sense of what he represented coursed through his mind. But for the presence of divine magic, he might have truly enjoyed the tale. When he looked around, the rest of the tavern was spellbound.
With some regret Areck focused his mind. If the commander had indeed sent someone to seek them out, Areck could not dismiss his responsibilities. His oath superseded even-thing. It was his duty to find the cleric in this building, and preferably to get orders that demanded he escort Arawnn back to his quarters. From there they both would prepare for the ride to Stormwind Keep.
Trying to be as quiet as one could in such a close quarters, Areck pushed his muscular form back from the table and excused himself. Although Arawnn gave an annoyed scowl, he did not say anything because the bard was beginning the second act in the tale of Anduin.
To pacify his friend, Areck broke his oath by drinking his mug of beer, pointed to Arawnn's now empty pint, and motioned that he was going to get another round. Arawnn's frown evaporated and his attention returned to the stage. Areck smiled at the courier's dramatic facial expressions.
Shouldering his way past burly merchants with pock-marked faces and the reek of too much drink, Areck snaked through the tables surrounding the stage. For no reason other than to satisfy his own curiosity, he decided to start his search in the shadows where he had noticed the lithe female picking her way through the crowd. He reminded himself that his task was to find the cleric, not to answer his own interest. He remembered an old adage commonly used in the Academy: "Curiosity is not a virtue of the faithful. It leads only to revelations that are unattainable." He wondered how true that saying was—curiosity had been the downfall of many heroic knights; however, it also led men to the rise above the doctrines of Stars-gait, often creating tales that were still sung.
