by Bill Mays
“Yes,” Arrivand sighed under his breath. “Aethine does watch over me.”
Biswik, his familiar, still lived. Arrivand had thought the blackbird long lost. With a simple mental command, the bird hopped to a higher vantage point and scanned the campsite. He spotted the familiar ranger speaking with a scruffy-faced young warrior. He then caught sight of the beautiful golden-haired priestess. She was as radiant as ever.
“So, she still lives,” he mumbled with a grin.
He found no signs of the lovely lady in white, the gremlin, or the big warrior for that matter. Perhaps, they had stepped away from the camp for one reason or another, or possibly been separated somehow. He did notice a young girl next to the priestess. She was not as exotic or refined as the grey-eyed lady in white was, but she was pretty in a simple sort of way. She was young, barely a woman, with long brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail. This girl had keen hazel eyes and carried a worn bow. Her stance and mannerisms suggested confidence. Something about a strong woman always caught the mage’s attention.
These new revelations took the red-robed apprentice on a slight detour. He stopped in his own quarters for a little thinking time. His hand absently slid over his shaved head and ended tracing his goatee. Kandairian troops camped in Villinsk near Talwen did not make sense. The reports had placed the big warrior of the group in the Magic City; then again, he had not actually seen the warrior in the camp. He decided this situation would require more investigation before he saw fit to share it with his master. He would tell Meiron of the Magic City’s fall, nothing more.
The thought of that fact made him sad for a brief moment. “What a pity,” he sighed aloud. “I actually enjoyed visiting Talwen. It was always very entertaining, and with so many interesting trinkets to buy. I wonder how long it will take to repair the damage those fanatics have undoubtedly wrought.”
Arrivand left his personal chambers in Castle Drackmoore and reported to the coliseum located near the northern edges of the city. Meiron had taken a break for the day to enjoy his gladiatorial matches. They were his escape from the duties as Ruler of the Dark Lands. The apprentice puffed out his chest and made his way past the sentries and into the stands. How these barbaric games bored him. He could not find the interest in them. Give him a game of chance, like dice or cards, and that would be a different story. Physical combat was so predictable. With these arena competitions it was always the biggest and the strongest that won. Meiron could destroy any of these fighters or creatures with a wave of his hand. What did he get from watching them fight among themselves? What a strange and chaotic old man he is, Arrivand thought as he headed to deliver the good news about Talwen.
- Chapter 21 -
Unseen Assistance
“Oh mighty speaker, Vantar, one of our own follows de human’s trail even as I talk.” The young nar dipped his spiny head in respect upon finishing his report to the elder.
Vantar smiled wickedly as he leaned back. The messenger brought news of the lost gem’s sighting. It was good to know that he would have something new to share with the Nest Lord. It was also good to know that they were back on the trail of the missing stone. Evidently, there was a human warrior carrying the blue gem. Other reports mentioned no real change in the active gem’s status. The human daring to use the red-hued artifact remained strangely quiet lately.
“Locate dis human warrior, and if de chance presents itself, reclaim de stone.” The messenger looked up in shock. It was forbidden for any of the ancients to possess a stone of power. “Do not jeopardize our volvement, dough. We are to remain unseen at any cost. I would radder let de humans kill each odder and demselves first if need be. Is dat understood?”
The nar messenger quickly nodded and left the speaker’s chambers. Vantar sat comfortably in his hot spring bath. His scales shifted to a calming rust color. He relaxed with his thoughts and a sinister smile.
* * * * * * * * * *
Quithine looked down on a battle ripping the magic city apart. She was carefully hidden from view of course. How she detested being below the clouds and among the realm of the lesser beings. It seemed as if the air here was less pure. If the Orbec himself had not commanded it, she would never have considered the course of action. She could spot the lesser male carrying the gem from a mile away. He was unimportant to her. All that mattered was that the stone he carried was safe from those that would attempt to use its power. This lesser seemed uninterested or unable to do so. He was no threat. The other lesser, the wizard, was annoying in that aspect. Not only had he claimed one of the ancient stones of power, but also he had unlocked the key to the vortexes. He could only summon the smaller ones, but then again he was just a lesser. That little accomplishment made him a dangerous lesser, though. The verinion speaker of the house twitched her long ears in agitation. There were those who were seeking out this warrior she now looked down on. Quithine knew she would have to keep an eye on him. That fact annoyed her to no end. She hated this new world these lesser beings had created. The whole thought and sight of the wars constantly raging between their different cultures sickened her. Why did she have to become involved in their barbaric squabbles? They would never pose another threat to her people. The events a thousand years past were just a careless fluke. The gems were scattered and hidden now. Two of them were lost completely, shunted to other dimensions. That fluke could never happen again. So what if a couple of the gems surfaced? Time would pass and they would be lost again, especially the way these creatures fought. As she looked down on Tark and his friends scurrying away from the city, she could have sworn she saw the ground shift just after his passing. She blinked and watched his surroundings closely. She saw nothing else.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ooblei traveled alone. He sent his companions to investigate the second vibration they sensed in the swamp some days past. He kept near to the blue stone. The small speaker of the sath felt the pain of the planet as the magical battle scarred its surface in the human city known as Talwen. He also felt the presence of an evil he thought long gone. The beings known as the reivers had returned. Why would anyone release those monsters onto the world again, he pondered? The furry little ancient wondered what might happen should they claim the stone of power. He decided it was not worth the risk to find out.
As Tark and his companions fled the falling city, there were those that took interest in the warrior’s departure. Worshippers of the reivers sought out the holder of the gem. Reports from the doorkeeper to Talwen about an item that disrupted the protective dome drew curiosity. Trackers of the order were already on the gladiator’s trail. Ooblei knew he was forbidden to interfere with the dealings of the lesser beings. To do so would be to ignore the sacred pact. No one could hold him responsible for a yawn, though. The tiny sloth-like elder continued his humming song as he casually walked just beneath the earth’s surface. An off-key note, from a sudden and unexpected yawn, caused a ripple in the ground above. The ripple caused a shift in the grounds surface for about sixty yards in every direction. Could he be held responsible if the human gladiator’s tracks had been lost in the accidental shuffle, preventing the fanatical trackers from following his trail?
- Chapter 22 -
A Change in Courses
“Please, don’t do this. You can’t turn back now like dogs with your tails tucked between your legs. It was just a few goblins! Hardly anybody got hurt!” Jillian pleaded angrily with the captain of the soldiers. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips and her voice was rising with each word. “We have to reach Timbre. They are counting on your support!”
“Manifor, your commanding officer, sent you under orders to defend the town. How can you justify turning back now? We’re barely halfway there.” Petre stood strong at the distraught girl’s side.
“Where do you children get the nerve to tell me, a captain in the Kandairian army, what I should or should not do? I will make the decisions I think are best for my men – end of discussion!” The man shot back in annoyance.
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“These children fought well at your side, and they are only speaking from their hearts, as would you in their place,” Arianna stated from nearby. She was busy tending to the injured men.
Luckily, they had not lost anyone to the goblin raiding party. There were plenty of injuries but no fatalities. It was daylight and the night had been a restless and uneasy one.
“We are riding back to warn the queen’s forces and that’s final. Timbre will have to wait, if it still stands at all. I can’t even be sure of that much now, if these mongrels roam the whole of Kandair in packs of such size.” The captain grumbled.
The man was in a foul mood. His troops had been nearly ambushed by a huge goblin-kin raiding party, and so deep within Kandair’s southern regions. He was more upset that they had almost been taken off-guard than he was about the goblin presence here. He knew goblins roamed the area and he knew that many had joined with Drackmoore. The fact that they traveled in such massive groups was shocking, though. It was information he felt should be supplied to the resistance at once. Drackmoore was not holding to the northern regions any longer. Their hired troops were advancing, and fast it seemed.
Flade and Dalia looked uncomfortable. They could see the captain’s point, but Timbre was in desperate need. The ranger started to speak up at several instances but could not think of anything constructive to say. The lady held her tongue as well. Jeraud watched Flade’s expressive face twist and turn in discomfort.
Uncharacteristically, the large nomad spoke out. “I could ride back and warn them much quicker on my own,” Jeraud offered. “That way, your message will reach the queen and your support will reach the town.” The big nomad sent a quick nod to Flade.
The Waynan native was trying to find a solution that suited both arguments. He could see the angst on his new comrade’s face. It made sense that Flade was debating doing the same if he did not. Jeraud could not let that happen. He had come to understand their course and the importance of their task through Flade. The ranger was needed by his companions. They were a team. The handsome wilderness man’s guidance would aid the women and young warrior when they continued on from Timbre to Villinsk as they planned. Their intended path was a difficult one. He only regretted the fact that he would not be able to join them now. From what Flade had told him, their cause was a just one. He had fully intended to offer them his services after they arrived in Timbre.
“What are you saying?” The captain snapped in shock. “We need you to guide us through the terrain!”
“Not true,” the nomad replied evenly. “Flade is a very skilled woodsman. He can lead you on, while I return and deliver news of the spreading invasion. You are leaving the plains soon. My skills do not compare to his in the forests.” The big man shot another nod at the ranger. Flade smiled back sadly. He appreciated the assistance very much, but he hated to think about Jeraud leaving them.
“That sounds like a reasonable solution to our dilemma,” Ganze piped up. The gangly man was afraid his plans to reach Merintz were about to fall apart. He needed to say something or he would be stuck in Kandair forever.
The captain looked from Flade to Jeraud with uncertainty. He eyed Ganze suspiciously. He did not trust the skinny man. He was just a little too good at games of dice to be honest.
“There are many people counting on you in my home town, sir,” Jillian spoke sincerely, all harshness in her voice was gone. “Please don’t abandon them. Many of their strong men are gone. My town is mostly women and children now. They desperately need you.”
“I would be more than happy to lead you there, captain. I have been there before. Think of those defenseless people,” Flade spoke up.
The captain appeared to be wavering. Flade placed one hand on Jeraud’s shoulder and squeezed gently. It was a small sign of gratitude.
Dalia and the soldiers all sat by quietly awaiting the man’s answer. The Kandairian captain was a cautious man. He never liked taking chances. He looked from the young girl to the scouts and then back to his men. He discounted Ganze completely.
“What do you say, men? Should we push on to Timbre?” The majority of his soldiers cheered their approval for the idea.
For most of them, the goblin encounter had only wet their appetite for battle. Many came from small villages of their own, now lost to the enemy. The fight for Timbre was a fight for the spirit of their homes, too.
“Very well,” the captain conceded. “The Waynan rider will take the warning to the resistance, while we continue on to Timbre.”
There came a loud cheer at the announcement. Jillian was so happy she hugged the nearest person. It just happened to be Petre. The youth awkwardly hugged her back.
“But should another such raiding party surface between here and the town, we turn back with the assumption that Timbre is no more. Is that understood?” The captain spoke solemnly.
“But we must see for ourselves before just giving up on them,” Jillian insisted.
“Could your town survive another raiding party on their own?” The man stared the girl down. Jillian looked away in defeat. She knew they could not. The captain turned to the nomad. “Take care and ride swiftly, Jeraud. Your assistance is greatly appreciated; now just deliver the warning safely.” The Kandairian captain patted the Waynan rider on the back. “We wish you the best of luck. May Aethine guide your steps to Bromin.”
“I will be fine,” the dark-skinned warrior chuckled. “The spirits of the land will watch over me. It is you who I will worry about.” He returned the slap on the back with a grin. The power behind his pat almost knocked the captain down. “Keep your guard up and your sentries alert. Your enemies will be looking for any weaknesses.” He directed the last part of the statement to Petre with a stern glare. “It has been an honor to fight alongside you and your men, captain.” Jeraud then moved to Flade. He stared deeply into the man’s intensely blue eyes. “Watch over them, my friend. I leave them in your care. You have proven to me that there are Waynan warriors in all parts of this world, despite the names they go by. Fight well, ride carefully, and watch your back always. I regret that I will not be able to join you in your journey to locate the gladiator. He is blessed by the spirits to have such loyal companions.”
The ranger and the nomad locked arms and pulled into a solid embrace. “I am glad to have met you, Jeraud of Waynan,” Flade smiled. The sincerity was clear in his voice.
He would miss the nomad. It was nice to meet a kindred spirit. He and Jeraud had formed a quick and deep bond. It pained him to see the man go. Maybe, gods willing, he would venture to Waynan once this war was over, Flade contemplated.
“There goes a good man,” Dalia spoke softly at the ranger’s side, as they watched Jeraud ride away. “His warmth and strength will be missed. Do not worry for him; he will be all right. I doubt there is a man or beast out there that could steer him from his course once he sets his mind to it.”
She rested a hand on Flade’s arm for comfort. She knew the ranger had just lost a dear friend, and she knew how valuable those were. Flade turned about to face the porcelain lady. He forced his feelings for the nomad away.
“There is another friend who worries me more at the moment. We will find Tark, I promise,” Flade smiled sadly.
Dalia smiled back at the ranger excitedly. “I felt him this night. He is alive. Tark is alive! I know it.”
“I believe you do.” Flade nodded and moved to prepare his mount. “Let’s get going then. He needs us, whether he realizes it or not. The sooner we ride, the sooner we’ll reach Villinsk.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Ardath radiated a feeling of pleasure as it sliced through an old man’s body neatly. Rugen was getting his information from the people of Timbre bit-by-bit, piece by piece, and captive by captive. The townspeople proved tougher than they looked. It was not easy to get them to speak, but Rugen was managing. The majority of the town had escaped onto the river. Several cast themselves into the swift-moving waters rather than be taken alive. The ge
neral had to make do with the few prisoners he managed to round up. Erinson Stens, one of the general’s favored knights, stood next to him. The youthful man’s skill in divination prayers was always very useful.
“My lord, I get no inclination that the gladiator was ever here,” the dark-haired knight spoke just loud enough to get his master’s attention.
Rugen wiped the blood from his great sword on the body of the old man he had just killed. “They speak of the Rashan priestess, of the acrobatic ranger, and the lady in white. He must have been here!” The large man roared. He was getting frustrated. “I felt a pull to this place, and I attribute that to our true lord, Trakarass! I was meant to be here for a reason, the key is to figure out what that reason might be,” Rugen growled. “Why has Trakarass led me here?”
“The people say reinforcements are coming. Perhaps the gladiator you seek will be among them?” Erinson suggested hopefully. He stood erect and did his best to keep his eyes from wandering to the dissected old man’s corpse. He admired his lord if not his tactics and did not like to see Rugen upset.
“Perhaps,” Rugen calmed slightly, “but I have no time to waste. Lord Meiron will be looking for me soon enough. I should be inside the gates of Talipax by now. The duke has eluded his fate for too long already, and the master will not be pleased if he finds me on errands of my own choosing.”
