The Last Garrison (Dungeons & Dragons Novel)

by Beard, Matthew

  He must be dealt with, something thought. Not him. Not me, he thought. Where is that? Who is there? He must be sent away. He must be dealt with. He must die far from Haven.

  Pain in the old man’s jaw. Pain in the back of the old man’s throat. Are these my words? he wondered. Is this my rasping voice? I wish him gone. Why do I wish him gone? Because it is necessary.

  It has broken through. It is a danger to Haven. I must send him away. Pain through the old man’s limbs. Something had happened. Find a way. Send the boy away. I wish this? I wish this.

  Nergei heard his master mutter to himself. Or to his benefactors in the sky. The Old Stargazer spoke to both confidants with regularity, kept council with the stars and with his only peer in Haven—himself. The boy, almost never. In the observatory, Nergei never felt any need to stop his master, knew that it was merely one of his many eccentricities. In the presence of others, the master’s muttering seemed crazy. He seemed lost in the world instead of seeking what was beyond it. In response, Nergei did something else he had never done, at least not since he was a child, a toddler even, still expectant of the affection of the man he’d wanted to call father but couldn’t.

  Nergei reached out his hand, and placed it on the Old Stargazer’s robed arm. He whispered, “Master. You’re speaking aloud.”

  The Old Stargazer turned toward Nergei then, turned in the suddenly thick and silent air of the council chamber, where all the other men had turned toward the sound of Nergei’s voice. The apprentice blushed, then flushed more, furious with himself for the blushing.

  “Master,” said Nergei louder and more urgently, his hand still on his master’s arm, waiting for any response. And then his hand fell away, as the Old Stargazer turned his white eyes on the boy, a look in them that the boy had never seen. Not furious, or even animated in any way. Unlike the gaze the old man turned toward the sky for hours and hours, there were no stars in his eyes, no glimmer of that which lay beyond the stars. There was only a man, a man who, for the first time Nergei could remember, looked like he felt as tired as his hundreds-year-old body should.

  The Old Stargazer looked across the table at Londih, at Orick and Pyla, and the others whose names he did not yet know or need to know. Instead of their names, he knew what they were, knew that they were just farmers, just hunters, not even the best of them up to the task of protecting Haven from what was coming for it, coming from within and without. The kenku, with their unnatural wings, they were not alone, and their flock would not wait forever before finding its way to Haven itself. For two hours, the council had discussed building fortifications around the walls of the village, but of course what good would those be, against an enemy that could fly? And, in its way, fly it could, in defiance of all the limitations nature had put upon its body.

  Once, the Old Stargazer could have dealt with it himself, might have dealt with it without ever leaving his observatory. He could have waited until the night sky fell over the village, and then drawn down his power upon the kenku, upon whoever or whatever had led them to their mountain. He had done it before, and foolishly he had allowed himself to believe it would always be that way.

  Once, it would have been easy, but there were other threats, threats which took nearly all of the Old Stargazer’s power, that had for the past two decades of his life. And that threat too was made real, if known only to him. It had even left a blind spot in his gaze. He had not seen the kenku coming, did not know what worse danger they might auger. He knew only, somehow, that there were more coming, and soon. Beyond that he was not able to divine what it was they wanted. His attention was split. His ability to protect the village was limited. He was distracted. Something was in the way, as a moon eclipses the sun.

  The boy, the boy! It is the boy. I must send him away, if only for a little while. Then perhaps I will be able to think.

  And also to listen, said the other voice, the voice that was him but not quite him. You will listen, as there is so much I am waiting to tell.

  At the head of the table, Londih cleared his throat, breaking the long silence started by the Old Stargazer’s boy, who had tried to shake his master from his muttering, first subtly, and then—in an unfortunate move—by yelling, “Master,” interrupting all the proceedings and focusing the council’s attention on the old man. It had, at least, had the intended effect, stopping the old man’s whisperings. The old man looked around, blinking. Londih wished he would gather himself fast, before the council members saw any more of his unfortunate state. If the old man had something to add, Londih wished that he would just say it, and say it soon.

  The silence stretched on, grew charged, and all the while Londih wanted only some answer, some plan to present itself. He was not without pride, and would defend Haven beside the men as long as he could, but their deliberations had not strengthened his resolve that he and the others were capable, even with Orick being given command of their defenses. Orick was a great hunter and a fine swordsman, but he was not one of many, and without equals to stand beside him, at least among the men of Haven.

  What would happen after he fell, Londih did not know, but he knew his sword would not be enough to take the other’s place.

  Londih looked again at the Old Stargazer, saw that at last the old man was readying himself to speak. He thought, Whatever he suggests, whatever it might cost, I will go along. I will pretend it was always my same instinct, and I will pray to the gods that the old man is right, right again as he has always been.

  One look around the table revealed that he was not the only one who felt that way, and Londih breathed a sigh of relief. For better or worse, they would once again put Haven’s protection in the hands of the Old Stargazer.

  And so the old man opened his mouth to speak, and already it was decided, even before he spoke a single word of his speech.

  The Old Stargazer did not try to encourage the council, did not try to make their situation seem less dire than it was. “The kenku dead here—the others dead in the woods—they are few of many, and the others will come. It is possible they do not even yet know where Haven is, because for many years I have kept the village safe from those who should not know its location with wards and spells, subtle illusions of mist and missing paths meant to dissuade those who would harm you from finding its gates. But now they have been met and fought well enough, and if they were indeed looking for us, then they will know they have found us. If they did not follow your boys back to the village”—there Nergei knew he spoke only of Kohel and Padlur, leaving himself and Luzhon out of the story completely—“then they will still seek their trail, and will no doubt find it. More than one trip was made to the clearing where they fought, and no efforts made to conceal their comings and goings. And so we must assume Haven is found, and found forever to these creatures and whoever commands them.”

  The Old Stargazer coughed, made some deep and phlegmy sound, and then he continued. “I will do what I can to protect Haven, but you too must help. Weapons must be found for those without them, and those men and women must be trained by those of you with some skill. What can be done to protect the village should be done as fast as possible, but I would be lying if I told you it would be enough.”

  “I would be lying,” said the Old Stargazer, looking down for the briefest of seconds, “if I pretended that I could protect Haven all alone, as I have for many, many years, for now there are other threats I must attend to, in addition to these kenku.” The council stirred at that, but no one spoke, and when they were finished, the Old Stargazer continued. “But Haven was protected from outside before I came to it, and can be protected from outside again.”

  At that, the council began to speak, to ask what the Old Stargazer meant. Protected from outside? By who? None of the council members remembered such a thing, said as much, and the old man let them speak without truly listening. Londih could see he had merely paused, and that he was not considering their questions. Finally, the chief banged his staff, begged for silence.

  The Old St
argazer continued. “At the bottom of the mountain and to the west lies the city. While only a few of you have ever been that far, those who have can vouch for it being filled with the most vile of people, dangerous and crooked and willing to sell you or run you through. Even so, there is good there, too, or at least those who would be good for Haven. The collapse of the empire has left more warriors without a charge than you might imagine, many of them now mercenaries, sellswords. Steel and fire, arrow and blade are there, all in need of a meal and a bed and what silver we have here. For these things they will come to Haven and fight these enemies for you.”

  Londih spoke, as he had been waiting to do for some time. He said, “We are not people of great means. Will what little we have be enough to lure them here, to put their lives at our gates so that ours might be spared?”

  “We will see,” said the Old Stargazer. “But if we do not try, then Haven will fall. One day there will be the fluttering of wings all around, and then the whisper of a thousand arrows falling into the village square. And then the blade, then the beak, and the claw. You will not survive, and neither will your children—” He paused, and Nergei felt a chill at what came next: “And either way, we will need these warriors for what else lies beyond the kenku, as I might not be here to protect you from what else they portend.”

  Orick spoke next, banged his fist on the table. “I will go then. I have been to the city, have taken our surplus there to sell in the years that there has been one to sell. I will go alone, and return as fast as I can.”

  The Old Stargazer smiled, or nearly did—Nergei was sure of it, even from his bad vantage—but let Pyla speak instead, cowardice in his voice as he said, “Not you, Orick. You are the best warrior we have, and if you go, who will protect us if the kenku come before you return?”

  Orick looked to Londih, who did not intervene. The warrior stepped back, withdrew his offer. But not before shaming the other. Orick, a grin on his face, said, “Then perhaps you, Pyla? Perhaps it should be you to go among the people of the city, among the thieves and the murderers. You go there, begging for help.”

  Pyla began to stammer, but was saved from speaking by his chief’s raised hand, asking for silence. Londih said, “I think the Old Stargazer already knows who should go, has already decided for us. And whatever he decides, I will decree.” He looked again at Pyla, whose cowardice infected the meeting, stained their purpose. He shook his head again, regretted again that long ago decision that had put Pyla at his right side. “Including sending you, Pyla.”

  The Old Stargazer closed his eyes, as if thinking, but even Nergei was not fooled by the ruse. His master had always known the meeting would come to this, had always known what he would say when it did, and now he was saying it: “Yes, Pyla. You will go, to lead this expedition. We cannot spare Orick or Londih—you yourself pointed out that they were too valuable to send—so I will send with you Londih’s boy, and also Orick’s, both having proven themselves in battle, as we see here upon this table.” Pyla began to object, but the old man did not give him room, continued turning the councilor’s words against him. Londih saw the Old Stargazer was smiling, his eyes twinkling again, not with stars, but with some other joy. “The adults are needed here, so we will send these youths, ones who dispatched this kenku for us, so bravely.”

  The Old Stargazer said, “Pyla, Kohel, and Padlur will go.”

  Nergei could feel the disappointment growing at being left behind, being left again, but before it could manifest across his face, it became fear instead, fear of at last being given the chance to prove himself he had so desperately wanted.

  “Kohel, Padlur, Pyla, and my boy Nergei too—he is no warrior like the others, but he has my teachings, and they will not prove useless upon the journey.” He turned to his apprentice. “Go, my boy. There is much else for you to learn, and I have no time to teach it to you, not before you might need it.” The Old Stargazer sighed, tired again, as he so often was. “But let us hope that time is farther away than I fear it is. Go to the city with the others, and hire those who would fight for Haven so that you might not have to—not yet, not too soon.”

  And the fear did fill Nergei. It filled him from toe to tip, so that he was not sure he would have been able to remain standing if it were not for the applause of the council—those supposedly brave men, happy to be rid of the responsibility of saving themselves for at least a little while longer—and also the cries of Pyla, tricked into going by his own cowardice, which he could no longer hide inside, but let escape in great sounds of protestation, so loud and pathetic that they balanced Nergei’s own fear. For—as scared as he was—he was at least brave enough to keep it to himself.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Is your faith strong?”

  A voice from the shadows of the temple’s main hall startled Temley, who was deep in prayer, prostrate before a carved ebony image of the Raven Queen, and wearing only a thin black robe.

  “Is it, Brother?” said the voice. It rasped as if spoken through a throat that had not known water in a century.

  “I am naked before my mistress,” said Temley. “I am resigned always to my fate.”

  “Good,” said the voice. Temley rose slowly, deliberately. “You are trained, though, to exercise more care around strangers, are you not? You are the edge of the Queen’s blade. You are the punishing hand that reaches out from the shadow realm. But I have snuck up on you, and my head remains here, attached to my neck where it was when I entered the room.”

  Temley turned to the voice. “In the hall of my queen, I give myself over to her utterly. If it is her decision that I die before her, I do so willingly.” Temley cinched closed the robe and stepped toward the figure. “In any other place, any room other than this one.”

  “I understand,” said the voice. Out from the shadows came Temley’s mysterious interlocutor, a dark man with gray skin and black within black eyes. “Temley, my brother, the Queen has need of you.”

  Upon seeing the dark man, Temley lowered his eyes and bowed his head. “You are of the Shadowfell. You are of my mistress’s realm.”

  “Yes, Temley. You may look at me.”

  “I apologize. I have … I have never had the privilege of meeting one of your kind. One of—”

  “One of the revenant. We are rare.” The man stepped into the shadow of a column and began to fade as Temley watched. And then, he appeared again, stepping out of the shadow Temley cast on the ground and wall. “And we are elusive.” The man wore thick black leather and a curved blade at his belt. Temley took in the measure of him, and when the man noticed, his confidence seemed to ever so briefly wane, and Temley noticed as he reached into a belt pouch and pulled a dried sage sprig from his pocket, which he rubbed against his neck and wrist. Was he attempting to cover the scent of the grave? Temley smelled only earth and sage.

  “You speak to the mistress?”

  “I hear her. I do not presume to expect a response when I reply.”

  “Of course,” said Temley. “Her voice?”

  “Nearly impossible to describe. She sounds like the first snowfall smells. She sounds like the dimming eyes of the dying looks. She sounds like these things, but also not at all.”

  “One day, to hear her voice,” said Temley, closing his eyes and relaxing completely. “One day to stand in her presence. One day to feel the endless, gorgeous melancholy of the forever gloaming.”

  “She cares not for your poetic soul, Temley. She has need of you. We must speak of this.”

  “Whatever she asks.”

  “In the mountains to the east and north of here is a village called Haven.”

  “I have never heard of it. A village to the northeast? Dangerous country. How does it survive?”

  “It has remained safe and quiet since the fall of the last great human empire because it has a protector. An ancient spellcaster who allies himself with an ancient power in the stars. An old man who has given away much of his soul for power and for longevity.”

  “Spitt
ing in the face of death. Spitting in the face of the mistress.”

  “Yes, Temley. And the Queen asks you to relieve him of the great burden of his age. The Queen can no longer allow him to defy her the part of all of us over which she has ownership—our deaths. Go to Haven and kill him, Temley.”

  Temley nodded.

  “I have sent a small army to Haven, a band of our lady’s kenku. They are, as we speak, poking at the old man’s defenses, surrounding the village and distracting him from her larger scheme. Their attacks will intensify until we weaken him completely. You will go and wait for the right moment to strike. I will go with you to the camp to tell you all we know of the old man, but I will leave you then. I have duties elsewhere.”

  The man put his arm on Temley’s shoulder, and it made him shudder. There was an energy from the man—a wave of chill that pulsed out from his bones. “What shall I call you?” asked Temley.

  “Oh, of course. My manners are not what they were in life. I am Erak, Temley.”

  “Erak,” said Temley. “It is my honor to serve the Queen through your commands.”

  “And it is my honor to be in the presence of a man of your devotion, Temley. You were chosen for a reason. If it is possible for the Raven Queen to have favorites, I believe you are one of them. There is a quality to her voice when she talks to me about you, Brother—a quality that I have never heard before. And it borders on something like pride.”

  Temley felt his legs buckle at the notion. He reached out for the revenant and grasped him by the shoulders. Erak’s chill filled Temley’s body, but he was not overcome. He felt himself embrace the man who had filled his soul so completely with joy, and weep gently into his shoulder.