The Gems of EL - Separate Paths

by Bill Mays

  “And did you choose to be captain of this raiding party?” Barst still spoke calmly.

  “N-no sir. It was my assignment. I wish I’d never seen those nasty little goblins. I only want to go home, sir.” The youth lost control again and his shoulders began to shake with sobs.

  Barst spun on the knight and stared him down. “You see, it is their ‘king’s’ law that caused this. You would condemn this boy for simply following orders? It isn’t his fault. Soldiers are all alike, wherever they hail from.” The mayor’s contempt for the military and the ruling class was boiling over. He never did like the way one man could decide the rules by which all would live, especially without spending time in their shoes. His town was a collective effort.

  “Your words are blasphemy! You speak openly against the crown and you are this town’s leader? No wonder there were no soldiers here to defend you. How can you call yourself a Kandairian?” Mani’s blood was boiling. He was tired and angry.

  “Timbre and the land of Kandair stood and thrived long before your ‘king’ decided to include us under his rule.” The two men looked as if they would come to blows. “His father before him understood the way of the land …”

  “Now, now gentlemen,” Ganze piped up, “You obviously have differences of opinion, but remember we’re on the same side here.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” Mani grumbled. “These people are afraid to side with their own country.”

  “This town needs no more death!” Barst shouted. Again, the two men were in each other’s faces.

  “No! You are wrong, Uncle Barst!” Jillian came out from a nearby pen where she had been hiding and listening to the conversation. The young girl rushed up to stand at Barst’s side. “He should pay for what he did! Because of him, Brenden and Pa are gone. I have no family anymore. I have nothing because of you!” The girl screamed through tears of anger at the frightened youth. She moved closer as if to strike him.

  “P-please, I-I’m so sorry,” the young soldier whispered hoarsely. His eyes pleaded for understanding.

  “Sorry won’t bring them back!” She cried.

  The scene and that statement in particular struck a familiar cord with Ganze. The man took his leave of the situation with a glance at Dalia. Barst moved to Jillian and gripped her shoulders tightly spinning her away from the prisoner. He forced her to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked and a battle of wills began.

  “We can’t go around taking people’s lives out of anger or hate. If we do, what separates us from those goblins? This boy made a mistake, a terrible, terrible mistake, for which he will pay in guilt and regret for the rest of his life. Death in the throes of battle is one thing, but this would be murder. Look at him, Jillian.” The girl’s eyes were downcast. Her body was trembling with unbridled rage. She did not want to think. She just wanted to hurt this man as much as his actions had hurt her. “I said look at him! See the sorrow and pain and fear in his eyes. Look at him and honestly tell me you want his death on your hands.”

  She looked into the prisoner’s eyes. The young man had tears of remorse streaming down his face. Barst reached over and snatched a dagger from Manifor’s belt. He forced the weapon into the young girl’s hand.

  “If that is what you truly want, then do it!” Barst’s gaze was hard and unwavering. Mani, Flade and Dalia looked on in shock.

  Jillian’s body shook violently with anger, then with sobs. She lifted the dagger in a trembling hand. The young prisoner closed his eyes tightly, prepared for what he had coming. The dagger fell from her hand and clattered to the ground.

  “I miss Pa so much,” she cried as Barst crushed her in a tight embrace. She was suddenly the little girl he remembered.

  “I know you do, honey, I know you do. We all miss him.”

  Something about the mayor’s words to the girl found a hold in Mani. He had never questioned the word of the law before, but maybe there were exceptions. He just could not picture King Airos condemning this frightened boy to death. Dalia and Flade exchanged worried glances. They were not sure where they fit into all this, but they were both sure they could not stand by and watch the boy be murdered. Mani turned to leave the stable. He paused as he passed the mayor and weeping girl.

  “It’s your town, you decide the prisoner’s fate,” the knight stated calmly as he strode away.

  The lady and the ranger both released heavy sighs of relief. “You are luckier than you know, boy,” Flade stated just loud enough for the weeping prisoner to hear. “Make the most of a second chance. They are rare in this world.”

  * * * * * * * * * *

  The town of Timbre held much work for its remaining populace as well as the companions, but it held much appreciation and joy, too. After a hard day’s work of fortification and repairs, a huge feast was thrown together to honor their saviors. Not only had the knight and his people rescued them from the goblin siege, but also their healing skills had saved many more lives through the night and the next day. Since the inn’s common room was being used, there had been no real place to hold the celebration. As any true survivors would do, the people managed. They set up a collection of tables and chairs in the center of town on the open streets. They somehow found the time to prepare a meal fit for visiting royalty. There was much sorrow to go around in the logging community, but they found a way to focus on the positive. They told stories of the deceased and gave cheers for their heroics. The many toasts given to their heroes were led and finished by their mayor, Barst Durgen. The mayor truly did appreciate the aid the knight had brought to them. There was no doubt the man’s presence had turned the tides of battle in the town’s favor. Barst had learned a lesson in all of this, too. There was a need and purpose behind King Airos Allustare’s actions. Only as a unified people could Kandair hope to stand against their enemies. Woven into his final toast was an apology to Manifor. It was an apology that was both accepted and appreciated.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  The morning came quickly. The townsfolk supplied the companions with almost everything they could need on their journeys aside from steeds. Most of their horses had been killed during the attack, so the party would remain on foot. While the two Kandairian soldiers and Flade gathered the supplies, Dalia and Arianna made one more round of mending on the many injured. For the most part Timbre’s people had recovered well. They were hardy survivors. The young Kandairian soldier, Tobin, passed away in the night. Barst made it a point to take the prisoner to see the dead youth’s body. The news of the youth’s passing hit Mani the hardest. The knight still felt a responsibility for his men. His gruff oldest soldier, Tanford, was staying behind to help with the burial of both his lost fellow soldiers. He told his commander that the town needed someone to help organize a suitable defense should the Drackmoorians return before reinforcements arrived. They both knew he was unable to continue on his shattered leg, but the commander let him hold onto his dignity. This meant their small party had decreased by three.

  Barst met with the party just before they left town. The prisoner, Petre, and the young girl, Jillian, accompanied him.

  “Sir Stormblade,” the mayor spoke with a tone of respect to the king’s attendant that had not been present before. “I have a request to make of you.”

  The knight held a moment before accepting to listen. He was somewhat taken aback by the mayor’s formality. “Go on,” he replied.

  “This young man has asked to come with you on your journey. He says, at the very least, he owes you his life and service for his transgressions. Since you were departing a few men short, I thought you might be able to use another soldier. Though my people are against bloodshed, it may be a while before they are ready to look an old enemy in the face as anything but an enemy.”

  The two Kandairian soldiers, Rolf and Cuthbert, grumbled their disapproval. Flade and Arianna both seemed receptive to the idea while Dalia and Ganze remained aloof.

  “I wish to pay for my mistakes, sir,” the youth dipped his head in shame as he spoke.
“Please let me accompany you. I promise to fight at your side to the best of my abilities.”

  Mani stood silent for a long moment. “Your name is Petre, right?” The young soldier nodded meekly. “I was set to take your life, Petre, do you realize that?” Petre nodded again. “We head for the camp of the resistance. You will not have an easy road ahead of you. Are you certain this is what you want? You may well lose your life on this journey.” Once more Petre nodded. “We are bound to encounter more Drackmoorian forces on the way. Do you think you can raise a sword against your countrymen?”

  “Yes sir, I know it won’t be easy but I want to help. I want to make amends, please sir. I’ve thought about it a lot. I know in my heart it is the right thing to do. My parents wouldn’t be proud of my actions up to this day.”

  “I will not hesitate to cut you down should I suspect that you are attempting to betray us, but I would be lying if I said we couldn’t use the extra sword. To trust a Drackmoorian soldier with our backs is ….”

  The knight drew in a deep breath and released a heavy sigh. The stout man was holding an internal debate. He looked to his party for support. The ranger, priestess, and even the lady gave a nod of approval, as did one of his own men, Cuthbert. Ganze and the other man, Rolf, remained silent, but had no protest either.

  “For you, Mayor Durgen, I accept the request.”

  Petre beamed with gratitude and excitement. “I promise to be of service, sir. My life is in your hands,” he vowed.

  “That means I’m coming along too then,” Jillian added. “Someone has to keep watch over the prisoner, right? You said it yourself, you need extra soldiers.” The girl was also dressed for travel with an old bow and two quivers of arrows strapped to her back. “I don’t see any archers among you and I’m a pretty good shot, just ask Uncle Barst or Flade.”

  “I can vouch for her skill,” the ranger chuckled. “She saved my hide a couple of times during the attack.”

  “Besides, I haven’t got anything left here except a lot of bad memories and a life of carrying trays and washing dishes. My Pa always wanted more for me. It’s about time I saw some of the world.” The girl’s voice dipped a bit in sadness but she pulled it together quickly.

  “Wait a moment,” Mani protested, “I said yes to the trained soldier, but she’s just a child.”

  “I’m the same age as he is!” Jillian shot back quickly, her hands planted defiantly on her hips. Her long ponytail bounced around her shoulders angrily. “Are you saying I can’t pull my own weight?”

  “This is no journey for a mere girl.” Mani spoke confidently until he saw Arianna then Dalia step to the girl’s side. The knight chuckled to himself. “Point well taken, ladies,” he conceded. The women said nothing and only grinned knowingly.

  “Are you sure about this, Jillian?” The mayor seemed a little disappointed. The girl gave a quick nod. “I will be waiting for your return then,” Barst smiled sadly. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “Uncle Barst, it will never be the same again,” she replied softly. “I just need some time away to clear my head. I’ll be back just as sure as the bluebird returns to her nest every year.”

  “We will send reinforcements as soon as possible,” Mani assured the mayor.

  “And, we will be waiting with open arms,” Barst replied. The men struck a chord of respect. It was a good parting. He moved to embrace Jillian and gave her a solid hug that lasted for a while. “You better come back to us,” he whispered softly.

  With their supplies stocked and their goodbyes said, the party took to their journey again. They had thought briefly about testing their chances out on the rafts, but it was clear the people of Timbre would need that option should the war find them again before reinforcements arrived. Led by Flade, they were on their way with some new members and renewed hope. Barst mentioned receiving word from the resistance not a fortnight past. He told them that the Kandairian soldiers headed southwest through the forest towards the Dayscape Plains. With any luck, they could reach their goal before they crossed paths with the Drackmoorians again.

  - Chapter 10 -

  To Villinsk

  With the morning came an end to the rains and an appearance of warmth they had not felt since before setting out from the sage’s shack. Tark was not quite sure of their bearings now, but he was fairly confident they would reach the Villinsk border soon enough. The big man was in good spirits and enjoying the trek. According to Herrin’s rough maps of the area, they were only crossing a small portion of the swamp. Once they spotted the rocky hills, they would be exiting the wetlands. Hopefully, they had remained somewhat true to their course. No one wanted to spend any extra time in the muck.

  “Tell me again about the library, Herrin,” Nivit chirped from overhead, as she smelled a small yellow pond flower.

  “Vool Hearth,” the old sage clarified. “It’s a temple to Nickadameous, but more importantly to us the most vast library on Pangias, as far as I know. Travelers come from across the continent to study in the temple. Bards, scribes, artists, sages, and mages are constantly supplying the vigilant worshipers of the hearth with new material. Sometimes there are lines of people waiting to enter the famed library temple. They bring scrolls, maps, books, poetry, artwork, and musical writings from all across the lands. It is a marvelous sight to behold, so much information stored in one place. It’s one of Villinsk’s natural treasures, and its doors are open for all to see.” The old woman recited her description with flare as if telling a favorite children’s story.

  The fairy did a few twirls through the air. “Do they have fairy books there?” Nivit was getting excited. She was an easily excitable girl.

  “I’m sure they will have more writings on fairies than you will have time to see,” Herrin was enjoying her tiny assistant’s enthusiasm.

  “Mr. Ado,” the fairy flitted to Tark’s side where the gremlin rode lazily on his broad shoulder. “Do you think they will have gremlin books there?”

  “Who cares,” he squeaked back. “I’m going to be doing magic research.”

  “Really?” The tiny girl’s eyes got even bigger. “Like that snake you made? That was very scary. You are an impressive wizard,” Nivit was speaking to the tremlin in awe.

  “Yes, well they don’t call me Ado the Magnificent for nothing,” Ado puffed out his chest proudly. Tark cleared his throat then chuckled and the gremlin shot him an evil glare.

  “My magic is pretty weak in comparison, I guess,” the girl seemed sad as she spoke. She crossed her little arms behind her back and dipped her head.

  “Well, that is to be expected,” Ado said smugly. “You are a fairy after all, and a sun fairy at that.” Tark reached up and thumped the tremlin in the back of the head. “Ouch!” Ado screeched loudly.

  “Be nice,” Tark warned.

  “Do you think I could learn some strong magic too, Mr. Ado?” Nivit was staring at the gremlin with a hopeful grin.

  “I doubt it,” he smirked without a pause. The tiny girl’s shoulders sagged. Tark thumped him again and Ado’s answer adjusted. “But, I suppose anything is possible, even where a fairy is concerned.”

  “Better,” Tark chuckled.

  “Now keep your dirty hands to yourself you big ogre!” Ado griped as he rubbed his sore head. Nivit seemed happy with the answer and darted off to inspect a new marsh flower she had spotted.

  They made steady progress through the wetlands with little trouble. The mud left in the storm’s wake was a minor hindrance; but with the clear light of day, Tark and Herrin were able to avoid the worst of it. The gladiator and the fairy had even worked out a little system between them, not unlike a child’s game. Every so often Tark would shout out “report” and each time Nivit would respond with a cry of “all clear.” Herrin was happy to see the two getting along. Ado was annoyed by the display as usual. Anything involving the fairy seemed to rub him the wrong way.

  “So what if a fairy is stupid enough to play scout,” he grumbled. “She’ll
be the first to go down when they spot her, too. Who could miss her with those ridiculously bright colored wings? It looks like a rainbow heaved on her. Who in their right mind would want to be such an eyesore? That’s why gremlins live longer than fairies, you know.”

  Tark ignored the little mage’s babbling in his ear for the most part. “At least fairies make themselves useful,” the big man teased back.

  “Yes, so useful, darting everywhere like a hyper-hummingbird without enough sense to look where it’s going. How much farther is this library anyway?” Tark and Ado looked to Herrin for that answer.

  “It has been a good couple of decades or so since I was last there, but we should be getting close. The hearth isn’t much more than a couple of days past the border. They established the temple there as a sort of welcoming point into Villinsk from the southern regions. As soon as we enter the foothills we will be on the borders of Villinsk and out of this miserable swamp.” The sage sounded like she had seen enough mud to last her the rest of her days.

  “What should we expect in the ways of hospitality?” Tark was already trying mentally to prepare for whatever was awaiting them. He felt his good spirits slipping away, replaced by worry.

  “What do you mean?” Herrin looked a little confused.

  Tark let out a deep sigh. “Are there checkpoints at the border? Do the people of Villinsk welcome travelers in their lands? How do the priests of this Vool Hearth respond to those looking to research things? Are there any weird customs we should be prepared for? There are more questions than I can think to ask. Whatever information you can offer would be useful.” The gladiator seemed anxious and impatient all of the sudden. It came across in his tone as annoyed.

  The old sage took a moment to evaluate his many questions. She folded her arms across her chest and replied. “Yes, well let’s see …” Herrin took a deep breath and answered with the same brisk annoyance Tark had used with her. “They are a welcoming, well-educated people with much culture. Their customs are their own, and I’m not exactly sure what someone like you would find odd. They don’t have checkpoints and they are very interested in travelers. As I stated before the library is open to all, but access to the inner sanctum is prohibited to any but their priests unless special arrangements are made. I believe the answers we seek are within this inner sanctum. I will deal with that when we get there. They have a fondness for the arts and take interest in foreign cultures. All of my knowledge is of course dated. I stated that earlier, too. Does that answer most of your concerns?” Herrin stared at Tark with her arms folded and a smug look on her wrinkled face.