Justan wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Zambon and Tamboor might need you.” Justan said, though he was truly glad that Fist decided to stay with him.
The ogre shook his head. “They have each other. They are part of my tribe, but they do not see me as part of theirs.” He hesitated, not knowing how to express in words what he was feeling. Instead he sent his feeling to Justan through the bond. Fist was concerned that his presence would just remind them of the enemy that killed his family.
“Surely they would not see you that way. They know it wasn’t your fault.”
“But I do not,” Fist said, truthfully. “They need to be alone so they can . . . get better. I would be in the way.”
“I am glad you are coming with me,” Justan said, impressed with the wisdom coming from this ogre. His grasp of the common tongue was pretty good as well. He was looking forward to getting to know Fist better.
Fist smiled but his eyes were sad. “You should not be. I lose two tribes already. The Thunder People and The Big and Little Peoples are gone now. Maybe it is not good to be with me.”
When they left the stable, Justan was surprised to see that it had snowed during the night. A thick blanket of whiteness laid over everything. Justan crossed the courtyard toward the unfinished castle and he saw a group of people gathered in front of the stairs. Zambon and Princess Elise were arguing while Lenny and Captain Demetrius stood to the side, bewildered expressions on their faces.
“I command you not to leave!” Elise shouted.
Zambon put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked it away. He looked the Princess straight in the eye. “I am sorry, dear Elise. But I must.”
“This is an outrage!” The princess’ face was beet red and tears began to roll down her cheeks. “You dare leave me in my time of need?”
Zambon looked away.
Elise’s voice quieted. “Don’t you love me?”
“More than you could ever know.” Zambon said. Justan could see that the guard’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. “But my father needs me. I am all that he has left.”
For the first time, Justan noticed Tamboor sitting on the snow-covered steps behind them. He was ignoring the argument and silently polished a long wicked sword. Lying next to Tamboor was a cloth covered bundle strapped to a pair of long poles.
Zambon bent to kiss the princess’ hand, but she pulled back and fled up the stairs, crying. With a sigh, Zambon turned to Captain Demetrius. “Captain, please be sure to bring her home safely.”
“I will.” The Captain promised. “I offered clemency to those of the duke’s garrison that were still alive. They have agreed to escort us on our trip back to Dremald. We leave in a few hours. She will be safe back at home by the end of the week.”
Tamboor stood and with barely a nod to his son, picked up the end of the poles and began to walk away from the castle, dragging the package behind him, a grim look on his face. Resolute, Zambon bent to pick up a full pack of provisions that lay at his feet and turned to Lenny.
“Good luck be with you, friend. Thank you again for the sword. I have a feeling we might need its magic.”
“Sorry ‘bout what happened to yer kin, son. Kill a hunnerd of the dag-blasted beasts fer me,” the dwarf said. “And give that sword of yers a name. She’ll see you through the hard times.”
Zambon nodded and trudged through the snow after Tamboor. The veteran warrior hadn’t stopped to wait for his son.
Justan ran to catch up to him. “Zambon!”
The guard gave Justan a weary smile but kept walking. “Good luck on your journey, Sir Edge. I guess mine is just beginning.”
Justan kept up his friend’s pace. “Zambon, I want to thank you.”
“No thanks are needed.”
“I mean, you didn’t have to come after me.” Justan said.
“It took me where I needed to be, didn’t it? I should be the one thanking you for freeing my father.” Zambon patted Justan’s back and looked forward to where Tamboor was striding ahead silently. “Perhaps one day, he’ll be able to thank you himself.”
“When did he show up?”
“Last night after everyone had gone to bed. He had been searching for the weapons storage, I guess. Anyway he found Meredith, his sword. He also brought up Fist’s mace. He gave it to him this morning.”
“Oh, yeah,” Justan said. “Fist has decided to go with me.”
“I know. He told us. Father seemed to understand.” They entered the edge of the forest that surrounded the castle and Justan stayed with his friend a while longer.
“So, what will you do?” Justan asked.
“Right now I suppose we go back to Jack’s Rest and kill any monsters there. Give my family a proper burial.”
“Is that why he insisted on bringing Sneaky Pete too?” Justan asked, the contents of the white cloth bundle now obvious to him.
“The man loved Jack’s Rest more than anyone. He deserves to be buried there after everything he did for my father. You know, I think it is a good thing. When I saw my father bundling Sneaky Pete to that litter I realized that his mind wasn’t completely gone. He is just . . . lost.”
Justan looked ahead to Tamboor. “Will this journey be enough for him? Will you be able to come back afterward?”
“I don't know.” Zambon shrugged. “I guess we’ll be done whenever Father finds what he is looking for.”
“Good luck.” Justan couldn’t think of anything else to say. He embraced the guard with one arm awkwardly as they walked. “I would help you if I could.”
“Even if you didn’t already have your own journey ahead, you couldn’t help. My father and I have to do this together.”
“I understand.”
“Actually . . . there is one thing that you could do for me, Sir Edge.” The guard stopped and gave Justan a serious look. “Kill as many goblinoids as you can.”
Justan nodded solemnly and watched Zambon until his friend disappeared through the snow covered trees. He stood pondering for a moment, then yelped as a clump of snow landed across his shoulders, sending an icy trickle down his back. He looked up in irritation to see a large gray squirrel standing on the branch directly above him.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be asleep this time of year?” he grumbled, trying to dig the snow out of his collar. “You are lucky I don’t have my bow with me or I might spit you on an arrow.”
The squirrel cocked its head at him then gave a little hop. More snow plopped onto Justan’s upturned face. With a growl, Justan backed out from under the branch. He scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at the squirrel hoping to frighten it off. The creature stepped to the side, avoiding the snowball and chattered angrily, scolding him with one raised fist.
“Squirrel!” came a deep booming voice.
Justan turned to see Fist running up the trail toward him, a wide grin on his chiseled face. He could feel a surge of joy pounding through the bond. The squirrel jumped down from the branch to land on Fist’s shoulder and promptly began scurrying all over the ogre as if searching for something.
Fist grasped the little animal and hugged it to his hairy chest, laughing. The squirrel put up with the affection for a moment before scrambling back up onto Fist’s shoulder and pointing at Justan, scolding him loudly.
Fist looked back at Justan. “Did you throw something?’
Justan sputtered. “He started it!”
Captain Demetrius had given all of the escaped prisoners leave to take what they needed for their journeys from the duke’s stores. This included warm clothes and shoes. He had made the servants unload the vast wardrobe of the Vriil family. Some of it was very valuable. Elise had protested halfheartedly at the sight of a noble family’s heirlooms being ransacked by peasants, but soon gave in to the captain’s way of thinking. The group of emaciated men walking away from the castle in various mismatching finery was an amusing sight.
As Justan
packed away what supplies he could, Qyxal spoke to Captain Demetrius.
“Do you feel at all guilty for letting all those prisoners go free?” the elf asked.
“Why would you wonder that?” the captain asked.
Quxal shrugged. “Surely some of these men were truly criminals. They can’t all have been wrongfully imprisoned.”
“It was a judgment call I made in the dungeon and I stand by it. I have no way to sort all of the prisoners out and I needed all of them for my plan to work. So, no, I feel no guilt. Hopefully this experience has reformed them. If not, I’m sure they will be captured again.”
“I hope that the king does not kill you.” Qyxal shook the man’s hand. “We will need men like you if those creatures do come to war.”
Lenny already had Stanza saddled up and rigged with his special riding harness when they arrived at the stables. He pulled himself into the saddle and Justan was surprised by how at ease the dwarf looked on the back of the enormous warhorse. “Good, yer finally here. I’m itchin’ to be off!”
“You’re coming with me?” Justan asked, pleased.
“Well, what’d you think I’d do?” Lenny sounded offended. “Leave you with nothin’ but an elf and an ogre to keep you company? ‘Sides, I got a feelin’ that wherever you’ll be is where the action is.”
Justan chuckled. “Let’s hope not.”
They left the stable to find Fist standing outside tugging at his new clothes uncomfortably. He was wearing a large woolen coat that they had found in the duke’s stores. It was the biggest one that they could find, but still looked small stretched over his large frame. The ogre didn’t know what to think about his new clothing, though he had been pleased to find a fur-lined pouch for Squirrel to stay in. Justan could see part of its gray tail sticking up out of it.
Lenny looked the ogre up and down. “You know I could let the seams out a bit fer you. Give you a little room to breathe in that thing.”
“You sew?” Qyxal asked in amusement.
“You learn how to do a lot by the time you get my age.” Lenny turned and spat through his missing tooth before mumbling under his breath irritably, “Durn elf.”
Justan ignored them and looked back at the skeletal structure of the unfinished castle. “I can't help but wonder how much good we actually did here.” Qyxal and Lenny exchanged puzzled looks but Justan did not explain further.
“So exactly where are we going?” Qyxal asked Justan.
Justan looked off into the direction Tamboor and Zambon had headed. “On a brighter road than some, I hope.”
Chapter Three
“Why do my rooms have to be so high up?” Locksher muttered to himself, as he trudged up yet another flight of stairs. Though he was glad to be back in the MageSchool, the long climb up the MageTower to his quarters reminded him why he always enjoyed leaving so much.
His problem with the climb wasn’t weakness or age. Locksher was only in his early forties and was quite fit as far as wizards were concerned. He just couldn’t stand tedium. He was a man with little patience, which was one of the reasons he made such a good wizard of mysteries. It was also the reason why he took so many trips away from the MageSchool. Then again, trips away weren’t always full of excitement. His recent journey had been long and though he had learned many things about Justan’s mysterious book, most of it had consisted of week after week of monotonous travel.
At last he reached his floor and started down the long hallway that led to his rooms. It would be nice to get back into his daily routine. He wondered if anything interesting had happened during his absence.
As he approached the entrance to his rooms, he saw a young mage pacing back and forth. She had long blond hair and wore a blue robe. Locksher sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for a visitor; this one especially. She was so beautiful that it was distracting.
“Can I help you, Vannya?” he asked.
“Oh!” She jumped at the sound of his voice. When she saw who it was, she smiled. Her hazel eyes looked weary, as if she hadn’t slept in a long time. “Wizard Locksher! I came up here as soon as I heard you had returned.”
“Well it was kind of you to welcome me home, Vannya. Please tell your father that I will speak with him about whatever it is he wants later. I am sure that work is stacked high waiting for me.”
Anger flashed in Vannya’s eyes. Evidently she did not like his assumption. “That's not what I am here about, sir.”
“Good. Surely someone else can help you then.”
She stamped her foot in frustration. “No, I have been to everyone else. You are the only one that can help. You are the wizard of mysteries for this school are you not?”
Locksher wasn’t in the mood to deal with childish tantrums at the moment.
“I was the last time I checked, young lady. Let us see if your status has changed.” He looked her up and down. “Hmm, no rune on your left hand, so you haven’t been named. You aren’t wearing the collar of a wizard and your double ringed belt tells me that you are still a mage. From the standard white slippers you wear, you are still a student, and from the dark circles under your eyes, a student who has not slept in a long time. All together, this tells me that I far over rank you and should not be spoken to so rudely!” He paused. “Am I wrong?”
“Sorry, Wizard Locksher.” Vannya replied, her eyes cast downward.
“Good, then. I am sure that whatever it is can at least wait until I have my rooms in order. I will send for you as soon as I am settled back in.” He stepped over the threshold.
“Please wait, sir. I am sorry that I snapped at you. You are right, I-I have not slept in quite a while and I am feeling very stre-.” She yawned. “Stressed out. Please hear what I have to say. It’s very important.”
Locksher slowly turned around. Her persistence was grating,
“Alright then. Make it quick,” he said.
“Do you remember a cadet by the name of Piledon?”
“Piledon? Yes. He’s quite the sneak, isn’t he? I caught him in a few pranks. He got tangled up in that golem mess.” One eyebrow raised and a bit of interest entered his eyes.
“Yes, he’s the one. Well he came up missing a couple of weeks ago,” she said.
“Oh. Well I’ll get on it as soon as I can. Thank you for telling me.” He started to close the door.
“But Wizard Randolf says he has evidence that the cadet was murdered!”
He stuck his head back out. “Murder? In the MageSchool? I would say that’s highly unlikely. Wizard Randolf has always been the excitable sort. I will talk to him about it in the council meeting later today.”
“No, no! You don’t understand,” Vannya interrupted, her eyes wild. “He says that Justan killed him!”
“Justan, you say?” His irritation vanished, replaced by concern. “You had better come in then.” He stepped out of the way so that she could enter.
Locksher’s rooms were a complete mess. The walls were covered in tiny hooks with magical baubles and trinkets hanging on them. The floor was cluttered with stacks of old tomes and strange objects with barely any room to walk between. To make things worse, during the months he had been absent, a thin layer of dust had covered everything.
Vannya eyed the rooms with distaste. She picked up a book off of a nearby stack and blew the dust off of the cover. “Does Vincent know that you have all these books up here?”
“Uh, of course. I told him before I took them. Besides, he has more than one copy of these . . . Well, most of them anyway.” In all truth, the librarian would probably faint if he ever walked into this room. But Locksher wasn’t worried. The gnome rarely left the library. He took the book that Vannya was holding and put it back on the stack. “Please don’t touch anything.”
“Would it really matter?” she asked.
“I have a very organized system.” He pointed at the floor and showed her a small letter ‘f’ engraved near the stack. She looked around. Each stack of books had another letter at the base and all the trinkets o
n the walls had little naming plates. It all made complete sense to Locksher.
“You know if you returned them to the library you would have a lot more room in here,” she said.
Locksher scoffed at the idea. “Then they wouldn’t be here when I needed them, would they? I can’t go traipsing down to the library every time I need a book. I am far too busy.”
“I suppose you are right . . .” She still looked dubious, though.
“Besides,” He waived his hand absently. “Too many stairs.”
“Why not at least put in some book shelves?”
“Where? The walls are taken up with-.” He paused and frowned at her. “What are you prattling on about anyway? Didn’t you have something more important to talk to me about? Like . . . say, the reason Justan is being accused of murder?”
Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) Page 3
