Keep on the Borderlands

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  “‘Often he spoke of these matters I here record and often told me how he came to believe all the foul creatures had been gathered by one master. Or, perhaps, dwelling there separately, they had come to serve a single master. But of this, he could provide no proof, though he said there were many caves he had not yet entered, or even discovered, when he and his men wearied of the battle.

  “‘Here ends the tale of the caverns wherein dwelleth chaos.’”

  She read silently and rapidly down the rest of the scroll, but it was short, and she soon rolled it up and laid it back in the basket with the others.

  Brief silence. Blorys broke it. “It’s something, I suppose—let me finish, please, Jers. It seems to match with the other stories, so if it’s simply a tale, it’s consistent. That makes it more likely to have some basis in fact. We ourselves have seen orcs, and some of the Keep men have seen lizardmen. We have Mead’s word that there’s a strange or possibly mad man out in the north woods, in control of a mountain lion—but he may not be connected to the caves.”

  “Maybe he was,” Mead said. “Maybe he was the one this hero suspected of controlling the caves and their evil occupants.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Jerdren said. “To me, this scroll and everything else we’ve heard tells me we wouldn’t simply be riding out the east road to enjoy the falling leaves and the chill nights. And I’ll tell you what—me and my brother, we’ve fought not just orcs but worse monsters, way up on the north borders. We were part of an infantry company, sure, but we learned a few things there about fighting the brutes. They can all be killed, if you know what you’re doing.”

  “And,” Blorys said, “if you have plenty of luck.”

  “Same as for anything else, Brother,” Jerdren said, “but this I can tell you for fact. Creatures like that kill travelers, villagers, whatever’s handy or whatever they want. And they keep everything those folk had. Remember that one cave, Blor? It was the nastiest mess I’d ever seen—clothes and mail-shirts piled in heaps, rusted blades and arrows with the points all brittle and the feathers long since molted and half-eaten by bugs. Chests, locked ones, full of gold and silver coin, so much of it that it took three of us to carry it back to the commander’s wagon. And two others, filled with cut gems and jewelry, that made the dimmest man of us want to plunge his hands in it. Those bandits we just took maybe weren’t smart enough to hold onto much treasure, but you can trust orcs and the like to do just that.”

  Blorys eyed him tiredly. “You’re still as much for it as ever, aren’t you?”

  “Didn’t listened to what Eddis read just now, did you?” Jerdren countered cheerfully. He settled his shoulders against the mantle and gazed around the room. “Now—ah, Eddis, you’ve your own decision to make on this. And I’m not pushing you for any word tonight. So far’s I’m concerned, it’s the same deal as we made last time. Equal shares in decisions and responsibility, and equal shares to everyone of whatever treasure we find.”

  “If I say yes,” Eddis replied, “and that’s only after M’Baddah and M’Whan and I have time to talk it over privately. That will only be after we’ve gathered as much information as we can tomorrow. This—” she tapped the nearest scroll—“is fine, so far as it goes, but it’s still too much ‘they say’ for my taste.”

  “No need for anyone to decide tonight, then,” Jerdren replied. “Sleep on it, all of you. We can meet early tomorrow in the tavern.”

  “Preferably,” Eddis said, “after the taverner’s had time to finish his bread and porridge and properly open the doors.”

  “Huh?” Jerden looked at her blankly. “We’ll decide who goes where, talks to whom, and once that’s done, we can meet again—late afternoon, maybe. We should know pretty well by then where we stand, I’d say.”

  Eddis glanced at Blorys, who gave her a faint smile in reply.

  “And then, since Ferec’s being generous with weapons and supplies again, we can get going on lists of what we’ll need, how many of us there’ll be, and so on. Only a fool’d go after monsters in caves with one decent sword if someone’d buy him a second to keep it company.”

  “We’d want warmer clothing, decent food, plenty of lanterns, charms for making light and making fire,” Blorys said. He sounded resigned.

  “Extra water bottles and plenty of travel rations,” one of the Keep men put in.

  “And plenty more volunteers,” Jerdren finished.

  “We could use someone who’s good at planning battles inside caverns, Jers,” Blorys said. “Last time you and I did that, we were following someone else’s orders, and that’s been a while ago. We have you two, for seeing far in the dark.” He indicated Mead and Willow with a nod. “If you decide to come along, of course. I’m thinking back to when we fought up north, and I’m saying dwarves.”

  Jerdren frowned. “Dwarves? Why?”

  “Because that kind of fighting is what they’re best at.”

  “Dwarves,” Jerdren said again, darkly. “Doesn’t matter. Not likely you’ll find any around here.”

  One of the Keep men cleared his throat. “Um, actually, there’s a pair of ’em came in just after we went out, down the walls. They were pretty beat up, from what I hear. Might not want to go anywhere, but just maybe …”

  “Great,” Jerdren muttered. “Dwarves no one knows, dwarves no one here can vouch for, and wounded to boot.”

  Eddis glanced at Blorys, question in her eyes.

  He shook his head minutely and mouthed, “Tell you later.”

  “Jers,” he said. “The dwarves who tried to betray us—that was an isolated incident, a clan that had been so ill-treated by men that it’s no surprise to me they turned to evil and joined the orcs. They’d been tortured, remember?”

  “They said they had,” Jerdren replied.

  “Why would they have lied about it? Doesn’t matter, though, Brother. These won’t be the same dwarves. I’m at least willing to talk to them without judging them by others of their kind.” Stubborn silence. “You know how angry you used to get when one of the officers looked at you and you could tell what he was thinking—‘Villager, country boy, common lout. Maybe he’s smarter than the deer he hunts, but probably not by much.’ Now listen to you!”

  Jerdren’s mouth quirked. “All right, Blor, I know. I just… doesn’t matter. Each of you think about this tonight. If you want it, any of you, so far as I’m concerned, you’re in. Think about what you’d want for extra weapons and supplies, what we’ll all need.”

  “Maybe,” Eddis replied sourly. “Personally, all I’m planning on is a decent night’s sleep. I don’t know when you slept last night, Jerdren, but I’m a much nicer woman to deal with when I’ve had a full night of unbroken sleep.”

  “Fine. That’s it then. We’re done here?” He went to the door and knocked. One of the guards ushered them into the hall and another came from the head of the stairs to escort them down and turn them over to the main-floor guards.

  There was no sign of the master and even less light along the walls. Somewhere in the distance, Eddis could hear someone snoring lustily. Sleep, she thought. I’m half sick for it. Until she’d had several hours of oblivion on that nice, soft pallet back at the inn, she wouldn’t give any further thought to this mad notion of the castellan’s—or Jerdren’s.

  Jerdren, predictably, had the last word as they parted outside the tavern. Some of the Keep men had gone off to their barracks, and the elves were heading for the inn. M’Baddah and his son had already gone, and Blorys had followed the other Keep men into the tavern to secure a table and order wine.

  “One more thing,” he said.

  Eddis fought a yawn. “A quick one more thing,” she said. “I meant that about sleep.”

  “Well, all right. One person I’ve already decided we need, if we can get him. I don’t know if you’ve battled in caves, gone looking for things hiding in them…”

  She shook her head.

  “Elves and dwarves are useful for seeing in the gloom,
and Blor’s right, most dwarves are born to that kind of fighting. But when you’re up against foul things living in dark, twisty places, and they’ve been there a long time…”

  “There’s a point here?” she asked as he hesitated.

  “Thing is, we used the fellers back in the army as well, and dursed useful they were.”

  Silence. She folded her arms and waited.

  “Well, thieves. Remember that long-fingered lad who snipped your purse and nearly made off with it? That one—he’s good, Eddis. We could use him. And I wager if we asked nice, old Ferec would make us a present of him. Dungeons are rather full just now anyway, aren’t they?”

  Before she could think of anything to say to this outrageous proposition, he smiled and strode into the tavern. A roar of excitement filled the room.

  “I’m not going anywhere with him,” Eddis snarled under her breath, “because I’m going to murder him!”

  She turned and stalked off to the private room she shared with Blot. Halfway there, she slowed her pace and began counting, up to ten and back down again, until her fit of temper eased. The poor child was no doubt still in terror of her. Not point in scaring her worse than she already was. Gods, she thought suddenly. If for some fool’s reason I do decide to take on this mad venture, what ever will we do with that child?

  Eddis woke with a start in the gray light of early day. The small sleeping room she ordinarily enjoyed so much all at once felt confining. I dreamed of caves, she thought, and shuddered. She tried to remember anything about the dream but couldn’t except a sense of dread and darkness. Well, it wasn’t dark here and now, but the room was overly warm and stuffy. The wind, if any, wasn’t blowing through the window slit, as it usually did at this hour. After so many nights of sleeping in the open, it was small wonder she’d had bad dreams about close places.

  Eddis edged onto one elbow. The door was still barred from the inside and there, on the floor, she could make out a small huddle of blanket just under the window. Blot slept, so far as she could tell.

  Gods, she thought in sudden panic. What are we—what am I to do with a child? A half-grown girl who’s been ill-treated by hard men all her life? A child who barely trusted her and was afraid of everyone else except M’Baddah? She sighed quietly. Worse yet, if M’Baddah, M’Whan, and I decide not to go back to guiding, if we take up this new fight…. It’s astonishing she survived so long in a robber’s den. She wouldn’t stand a chance in those caves, but how could we simply leave her here? There are good, honest people here, and they’d do their best by her, but they’d never understand her. All she’d know is that M’Baddah befriended her when we took her away from the only life she ever knew—and then we abandoned her.

  At the same time, Eddis knew she wasn’t much of a person to deal with ordinary children, let alone this one. Somehow, she’d managed not to lose patience with the little one’s fears the night before and simply let her sleep on the floor.

  “A bed,” she had said, “was not a place for a Blot.”

  Eddis gazed down at the still bundle, eyes narrowed as she remembered. “I could kill those men,” she whispered.

  The child knew only what those men had told her: Townfolk and such were “nocks,” good only for the money, gems, and grain others could steal from them. She’d protested staying with Eddis and had difficulty understanding when M’Baddah explained that in towns and in houses, women and girls shared private rooms while men all slept together. Eventually, he and Eddis realized the child had no concept of sex. There were only “nocks,” men like the bandits, and Blot. When the outlander had tried to explain that Blot, Eddis, and the merchant’s ransomed lady were all “she,” the girl had stared at him in visible disbelief.

  One thing for certain, Eddis decided as she swung her legs to the floor. First thing this morning, before she and Jerdren started butting heads over their “reward,” she and M’Baddah would go buy proper clothing for Blot. We can’t keep calling her Blot. It’s cruel.

  A tap on the door brought her back to the moment. It was growing lighter outside the window, and she could hear people moving about. She dragged on breeches and padded barefoot across the little room. Blot came awake with a start as she opened the door. M’Baddah came in, bearing a thick clay pot filled with steaming hot tea and a cloth bag full of warm, spiced rolls. Eddis rummaged in her pack for her cup.

  “The taverner gave me leave to brew my own herbs over his fire,” the outlander said. “He also sent along the rolls. Good morning, young friend,” he added with a smile. Blot sat in the midst of her blanket, rubbing her eyes. “Here is food for you, and drink.”

  He was quiet and patient, persuading the girl that she had no early duties, that he and Eddis wanted her to eat and drink with them, that she could have as much of both tea and bread as she liked. Two small rolls and a cup of tea later, the girl handed M’Baddah back his cup and sat back against the wall, tugging the blanket over her bare feet.

  “She needs something decent to wear, M’Baddah,” Eddis said then.

  “I agree.” He settled down next to the child while Eddis ate, telling her what she would see outside and where they would go. “You need clothes of your own,” he said.

  She fingered the loose jerkin she wore—M’Whan’s spare, which itself had been bought secondhand.

  “But this is nice stuff.” She looked up at him. “Too good for a camp brat, maybe, but big enough, it would last a while. Blot don’t need more.”

  Eddis sat back and waited. Her lieutenant was getting further with the girl than she might. It took time, but finally the girl agreed to leave the little room if M’Baddah agreed to stay right with her.

  The short journey from the inn into the fountain square was slow. The girl was wary of everything and everyone, though at this early hour, the area was relatively deserted. The market was better. There were things to look at: piles of fruit and bright-colored cloth. Blot hid behind M’Baddah as the stall-holder gave her a kindly smile.

  “You buy often enough from me, Eddis,” the old woman said, “and you’ve done us all good service. We’ll see you get a good bargain and proper garments for him.”

  Eddis smiled and let the mistake pass. Blot was won over by the woman’s quiet manner, entranced by the clean, colorful jerkins the old woman held against her skinny shoulders to test for fit. Eventually the little girl came away clutching two changes of shirt and trousers, as well as a pair of boots and soft foot-wraps to go under them. She even relaxed enough to walk between the two fighters.

  But as they came abreast of the tavern, the clothing was forgotten, a fallen heap at her feet. Blot clung to M’Baddah, her face buried against his chest as men just inside the open doors started a cheer for the new heroes. The outlander moved aside, drawing the girl with him. Eddis scooped up the fallen bundle and followed. Once the noise had faded away, she knelt and laid a gentle hand on Blot’s shoulder.

  “You don’t have to go in there. Are you hungry, though?”

  A muffled, tearful voice finally said, “Got ’em rolls still. Where us slept.”

  “We’ll take you back there, then. Would you like that?” Eddis asked.

  Blot nodded, finally easing her grip on M’Baddah’s arms, and took back her bundle and followed the swordswoman.

  Once back in the small chamber, Eddis said, “You can bar the door so no one can open it, and you’ll feel safe. But you have to promise to open it for us, when we come back.”

  “Promise” took a little explaining. The child finally nodded and rubbed her hand across her eyes and sniffed loudly. Eddis gave her lieutenant a frustrated look.

  “M’Baddah, we can’t keep calling her Blot. That’s not a name!”

  “What they said I was,” Blot offered sullenly. “My… my friend didn’t never like it. Called me Windflower, but that was only for him and me. He said, rest of ’em’d make fun. Was our secret.”

  Eddis sat cross-legged on the floor and beckoned the child close. M’Baddah had turned away to gaze
out the open door. She lowered her voice.

  “You and I have a secret, too. Know what my name is?”

  “Eddis,” Blot said promptly.

  The swordswoman shook her head.

  “Yes, but when I was a girl, about your size, before I learned to use a sword, my name was Flerys. It means ‘flower’ where I come from.”

  Blot looked at her, visibly puzzled.

  “See, I didn’t think that was a good name for a swordswoman. So I called myself Eddis. Maybe we could call you Flerys. That would be nicer than Blot.” Silence. “Just… if you think you’d like to be called Flerys.”

  “Flerys.” The girl tried it and smiled tentatively.

  “It fits you.” Eddis reached cautiously, and to her surprise, the girl let her lightly pat her shoulder. “Now, you can stay here and feel safe while we go back to that tavern. Eat all the rolls if you’re hungry. We’ll bring more later.”

  A few moments later, she and M’Baddah walked away from the little chamber, having heard the bar drop into place.

  “Gods,” Eddis said feelingly, “I hope she’ll open it again.”

  “She will. That was kind of you, my Eddis. Flerys suits her better than it would you.”

  Eddis rolled her eyes. “You sneak! I should have known you’d hear all that!”

  He laughed quietly and clapped her on the back. “I wondered often what kind of village woman would name a baby girl Eddis. Flerys is a good name, and a proper one for the bright poppy I see in that child. Not ever for my Eddis,” he added.

  * * *