by Bill Mays
Ganze quickly realized he was outnumbered here. Never one to push his luck, he decided to move on. He stood, brushed himself off and wiped the blood from his nose. He then stalked off to find his own way about Bromin.
“Good riddance!” Jillian grunted. “That snake boils my hide!”
“Thank you for defending my honor, young man,” the tall priestess cooed at Petre. “Very nice work you two. You make a good team.” The tall woman resumed following the young page. She also resumed casting flirtatious glances at the many gawking soldiers she passed along the way.
“She definitely doesn’t go unnoticed,” Petre remarked. “I must admit, she’s not like any priestess I’ve ever seen before.”
“She’s less like a holy woman and more like a fox in the hen house,” Jillian giggled.
“By the way, thank you for that,” Petre offered sincerely.
“It was nothing,” the girl shrugged back without meeting his gaze. “Uncle Barst and the council accepted this journey as your penance, and I came along to keep an eye on you. You did as you pledged. You paid your dues. Besides, I feel like we’re kind of in the same boat now. That snake was right about one thing. I don’t know where I fit in either.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Flade and Vergehen worked for hours trying to find some indication of Tark’s whereabouts. Dalia sat by waiting and hoping vigilantly. After all of the wizard’s normally used means of detection were exhausted, he referred to his big book. It was a tome of various magical spells for divination. The process seemed to go on endlessly with absolutely nothing to show for their efforts. The lady simply sat by watching and feeling helpless. To his credit, Flade went along with every absurd gesture and phrase the old man requested of him without tiring. Some of the wizard’s instructions seemed downright ridiculous. A sudden and loud cheer from the ranger jarred Dalia awake. Evidently, she had fallen asleep in her chair.
“What? What did you learn?” The woman mumbled as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“Look!” Flade pointed at the desk excitedly.
When she did look, all she saw was one of Flade’s silver-coated knives laying on the wooden surface. “What am I supposed to be seeing,” she asked, wiping her eyes again.
“The Blade, it points northeast!” Flade exclaimed. “We have finally made some progress!”
“Actually, that is a better sign than you know,” Vergehen smiled. “Watch this.”
The old man lifted the knife in one hand and pulled a rolled map of the whole of Pangias from beneath his desk with the other hand. He spread the vaguely detailed parchment across the desktop. He then held the blade high over the map and mumbled a few words neither of them understood. With his incantation complete, he let the knife fall. Amazingly, it veered to the right and embedded itself just past the border of the area marked as Villinsk.
“And there you have it; our boy is on the fringe of Villinsk soil! … Hmmm …. Very curious ….,” the old man muttered to himself.
“Villinsk?” Flade gasped. “That’s such a long way from here!”
“You are certain of your findings?” Dalia asked.
“As certain as one can be. Well … certain that Flade’s favorite knife is skirting Villinsk, that is,” the wizard smiled. “Hmmm … Right now it looks to be past the border of the Acid Swamps and into Villinsk but I’m fairly certain the goal is somewhere in the heart of Villinsk.”
“What did you mean by very curious?” The lady persisted.
“I just find it odd that the artifact would lead him there. By all reports, our former allies in arms have come upon hard times of their own recently. Just a little something I can guarantee was part of the Dark Lord’s plan to keep them from aiding us in any way. I wonder if the mages of Talwen are what he seeks, or perhaps it is the knowledge of Vool Hearth? …. Hmmm … Maybe he desires the wisdom of the elves of Havenwood in the Wisp Forest. There is much magic and history in Villinsk. Hmmm … Good for him! Tark may have uncovered his path by now.”
“Please tell us all you know, anything that may be of assistance to his quest,” Dalia pleaded.
“Unfortunately, my dear, I already have. There is little more that I can offer in the way of relevant information.”
“You said that once the item is awakened it must be put back to rest. How did King Airos awaken the artifact?” Flade asked.
“Good question. I’m not sure how, but I have an idea of when. The king was handed the treasure by his father upon his sixteenth summer. It is passed down from parent to child during a ceremony as a sort of rite of passage into adulthood. The same ceremony was performed with his late daughter, the Princess Mia. It is a family heirloom. I honestly think they had almost forgotten its origins. It was handled as a trophy more than as anything else, a grand gem worth a fortune. It has remained dormant for generations, since it came to be in the family line’s possession, I would guess. There are few who know of the artifact, it was a secret kept by his ancestors for centuries. I looked into it after you set out for Merintz. I was amazed to learn that the stone was rumored to be one of the legendary stones of power. Some tales say it is benevolent, others swear all the gems of power are evil and dangerous. Who can know for sure? I do know now that its call was what awakened the fire in Airos. Over a decade past, he began to envision his kingdom as more. He wanted to unite all of Kandair under the crown and forge a country that would rival his legendary ancestor, King Maisak Duvree. His determination and perseverance are what brought me to his side. He was a truly great man. It was a noble goal, but now I see the influence behind it. I do remember it as strange since his own father had no such designs for Kandair and Airos was a father himself of a young child and had a new wife. I often wondered what drove him into such a grand quest with his family waiting for him in the comfortable life he had always known. Perhaps it was Meiron’s dabbling that awoke the treasure, for the Dark Lord has long been in possession of another of the fabled stones. I was not sure of the truth in the rumors, but now it is all clear to me. Though their hues may differ, they are both powerful artifacts of the ancient world. Some even say the gems are fueled by the lingering magic of the ancients themselves. All I know for sure is that it will not rest until it is comfortable, and no man should try to use its power as Meiron surely does. No good can come of it; remember that. They are simply too powerful for mankind to wield safely. Every writing points to that fact. I suspect it is the gem’s use that makes magic unreliable. This is why the item cannot fall into Meiron’s hands. Imagine the might he could possess with two artifacts. I suspect the gem knows this, and it is searching for a place to hide. Hmm … That much is just a guess. As I said before, Tark will need all the help he can get. Fate has seen fit to deal him a very difficult hand.”
“Why did you insist on us delivering the item if you knew how dangerous it was? You could have warned us when you visited in the campfire that night,” Dalia questioned. There was a hint of anger in her voice. Maybe with more information, things might have turned out differently.
“After learning what it was, there were difficult decisions to be made. The artifact was comfortable in his hands. I could sense that much. Given to another, the results would be unknown. It could have refused their hands or driven them mad with its power. Then Meiron would have surely claimed it. Fate chose Tark before I or anyone else did, my dear. I’m sorry.”
Dalia nodded sadly. “You say this Meiron holds another of these artifacts already, of a different hue? That reminds me of something someone else said. Arianna, the priestess that travels with us, is a prophet. She once spoke of a blue star that everyone was reaching for in her dreams. She said it shot into the air out of their grasp and split into many shards of different colors. I need to know, is the treasure of Kandair blue?” Vergehen nodded. The lady sat quietly in thought for a moment. “She believes we are all part of his destiny. I think she is right,” Dalia whispered. “What if there are more of these artifacts surfacing? From what you’ve told us of their po
wer, the results could be anything, but what are we supposed to do? This is all so grand a quest …” The lady suddenly looked lost and tired.
“We must get to his side and help him figure it all out, what else is there to do?” Flade sighed. “Tark needs us.”
“Well said, my boy; well said …. Hmm … I will see about arranging you some form of escort, at least part of the way. I regret with things as unstable as they are in Kandair right now I will be unable to transport you via magical means. It just wouldn’t be a safe venture, but I will give you this for future use.” The old man pulled a delicate necklace from beneath his desk, and handed it to Dalia. It was a simple silver chain with a small locket on it in the shape of a star. “Wear this always. When the need arises simply think of a place you’ve been, hold the chain tightly and call out the word ‘There’. You and anyone touching you will be transported to your chosen destination. It is the least I can do. Don’t chance using it within the Kandairian borders, though. I fear that the unstable residue of those vortexes may affect it; but once you are clear of our lands, it may come in handy. This device could save your lives someday, but its magic is limited. How many times it will work depends on the distances traveled and the number of people carried along. You should remember this, too, son.” Vergehen patted Flade on the shoulder. “This dream you’ve told me about, it may be a warning. If the girl is truly an oracle then the gods may be taking a hand in this as well. Perhaps it is what you are being driven to stop. You must watch out for each other; your course will never be easy I’m afraid. When one deals with artifacts, things do tend to get muddled. My bones are telling me that your quest ties into Kandair’s survival somehow. You don’t get as old as I am without trusting your instincts.” Vergehen cast them both a bushy-eyed wink.
“What of the queen?” Flade asked hesitantly. “She wasn’t too fond of me after my outburst. Do you think she will let you help us?”
“Kathraine is a good woman at heart. What you witnessed was the exception, not the rule. She just needs time to grieve. She knows the importance of the artifact and she also knows how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands. Protection of that royal heirloom was her husband’s dying wish. She will agree with my decision to aid you. I think that’s enough dallying here, I have much work to do with a war and a rescue march. Take back your throwing knife, Flade.” The wizard advisor mumbled another incantation as he handed the weapon to the ranger. The old man looked drained afterwards. “It has been enchanted now; its edge is a little keener, a small gift from an old wizard. Call for the blade and if it is within range of your voice it will return to you.” Flade accepted the gift with a grateful grin.
“Thank you again, for everything,” Dalia smiled her full white smile in gratitude. “Is there any way we can repay you?”
“Find Tark and help him complete his quest. That will be more than anyone could ever ask of you, my dear. It is we who should be thanking you, but if you wish, after it is all over, you can both return and tell me of your craft and heritage. I find it quite fascinating.” The old man winked at them both again. “It’s not every day that descendants of the legendary idosians walk among us, you know?” The statement took both Dalia and Flade off guard.
* * * * * * * * * *
The next day came and, true to his word, Vergehen arranged for a small troop of soldiers to escort the companions as far as Timbre. The troop was being sent as reinforcements to aid the small community. Also true to his word, Ganze was paid his promised fee with an added bonus for the delay. He was paid an additional sum to keep his mouth shut about what he may have seen in Bromin. The gangly man was more than happy to forget everything and accompany the troop’s march back to Timbre with his pockets full of gold. He was not especially pleased to be journeying with Dalia and her friends again, but he had come to respect their combat prowess. The rodent-faced man was eager to escape the borders of the war-ravaged land and find his way back into the merchant kingdom of Merintz, where wealth made one like nobility. The gathering forces in Bromin were making him nervous. Actually, he wanted to cross into one of the borders of Kandair’s western neighbors, but that would have been a journey he made alone. With the current state of Kandair, he preferred an armed escort. He even overheard the ranger plotting a course from Timbre through Merintz and into Villinsk. What the ultimate goal was, he did not know or care. All he needed was a way into Merintz’s borders and then he and his new friend, Coal, could be done with the silly business of adventure and war. With the fortune the old wizard had paid him, he might even be able to retire from work altogether. He would worry about convincing Flade and the others to take him along into the merchant kingdom later.
Mani and Dimitri found the time to see them off and wish them well. The knight and the apprentice mage were both preparing for the coming march on Talipax. The companions returned the wishes of success for their impending rescue march. Neither path looked easy. With everything set, the companions were off. As the small party of twenty soldiers plus the companions left the town of Bromin, two men watched with mixed emotions. Mani wanted to join them. They were good, strong people with a courageous goal at heart. He wanted to be free to ride off on a perilous quest with his newfound friends. He owed them that, but duty called. His queen and his men needed him. Dimitri, too, wished to ride amongst the group. There was a warmth and camaraderie among them that he wanted to share. They rode off to join Tark on his special quest. It seemed a foolish quest from what he had learned from Vergehen. It reminded him of the stories his master, Callivar, told of his own youth. Alas, duty bound him as well. Both men sat quietly watching the lady, the ranger, the priestess, and the two young warriors, venture off to locate their lost friend. It seemed such a valiant and exciting course. Perhaps in another time and place, theirs could have been the life of adventure, too, both men dreamed wistfully.
- Chapter 18 -
Information Gained
Malark woke his group of faithful worshippers early the next day. The longhaired man sported his freshly cleaned white robes and his holy symbol proudly. He called them all to prayer before the first light of the sun touched the camp. The priest’s excitement in bringing his flock to join with others for their cause was all too evident. He gave an enthusiastic speech to begin their march. It was the ‘time of convergence’ as he called it. It was the moment for all believers to join with the river of change that was crashing over the land. It was an epic event these faithful followers had been passing down from generation to generation and anticipating for centuries. It was the time for a desperate escape attempt, Ado decided, from the way the longhaired priest spoke. These crazy people planned to gather with more of their kind and march on some hated city for retribution. The longhaired priest spoke as if this place, this target city, were the den of all sins. He called it “Peccadillo.” Ado did not envy the poor souls who occupied that doomed city wherever it was. There would be hundreds of these religious fanatics coming together, and his human companions were to be added to some massive sacrificial offering meant to attract the attention of their demonic gods, the reivers. Nivit was in for an even nastier surprise. The fairy was to be a special gift presented to the demons personally by the psychotic priest. Evidently, these reivers really liked to eat the fey folk. That was one unholy event the gremlin was determined to miss.
Ado darted about above the procession invisibly. He searched for a good area with a decent amount of cover. It was an intricate part of his quickly formed plan. Too bad these rolling lands did not offer much in that aspect. Finally, he spotted what he wanted. There was a small ridge to the south of the road they followed. It had a ten-foot drop with a couple of small trees above it. The total length of the ridge could not have been more than twenty feet.
“Perfect,” he giggled from his vantage point, “now, on to the details. I still can’t believe I’m going to do this. What kind of tremlin am I becoming?” He mumbled nervously. “That gladiator’s madness must be contagious.”
Tark and
Herrin were kept bound in a small cart that fell at the rear of the procession. The cart was pulled by two plow horses. It was a cart mainly used to carry extra provisions for the large group’s long journey. The two humans were barely conscious thanks to the priest’s potent drug. Ado learned that the early morning was their most lucid period. New doses of whatever the man was giving them came with the mid-day meal and their nightly feeding. The box containing the fairy was kept separately. It was strapped to the back of the priest’s horse. Ado did not want to get that close to their white-robed leader, but the man was never far from the fairy. The tremlin mage took a deep breath and set his plan into action. First, he loosened the ropes holding the fairy’s prison to the back of the horse. Next, he untied Tark and Herrin’s bindings. He was careful to leave the ropes lying in place for visual effect in case anyone happened to check on them. Finally, came the most dangerous part. Ado landed on the box that held Nivit as quietly as he could. He made sure that he had convenient access to the secret pocket in the priest’s robe. It was the place where the man kept the key to the box. Everything had to be timed just right. Ado took a deep breath. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. It was so loud he feared the man might be able to hear it, too. He had never been so scared in all of his life. Were Tark, Herrin, and Nivit really worth the risk? Again, he fought back the urge to just fly off and cut his losses. He doubted that there was another group nearby so willing to accommodate a tremlin and he certainly was not about to wander the war-torn countryside alone. All he had to do was free Nivit so that both of them could usher the humans to safety. It sounded simple enough in his head.
Malark proudly led the procession in his white robes on the back of his white mare. He appeared the epitome of righteousness. His head was held high and his long hair left flowing in the gentle breeze. He wanted to be the first to see the masses gathered in the name of the Order of Four. He waited his whole life for the rebirth of his gods into the world. The stories of their coming had been passed down among the faithful for many generations. That same story was whispered in his ear by his mother from the time he was a small child. It felt good finally to be open about his religion. The hiding and plotting was over. No longer was the order forced to skulk about and pretend to believe in the false king’s rule. No longer were they pinned beneath the worship of false gods, either. He felt honored that it was during his life that their awakening had come.
