The Ambersham

by Greg Ricker

  Hopefully, the Dwarves would be cleaner, and more polite. At least they ended the day with some new clothes. They knew they paid a little too much at some places, but managed to haggle a few shop owners down. Simply saying they did not have enough, and starting to walk out, paid off on occasion. They both managed to buy water pouches from a merchant on the street for half the original price, using that method.

  After the shops closed, they decided it was time to head back to the inn, and get some sleep in a bed, for a change. It was then, while eating chicken off the bone, that Taron bumped into a passing local, and angered him beyond reason.

  “Watch where you’re going, boy!” The man was tall, lean, long haired, and dirty. Not the least bit collusive about what he was. He slapped the chicken leg out of Taron’s hand and sent it flying over his head.

  “Careless bugs can get stepped on.” He added, staring into the southlander’s eyes. Then Taron noticed that the man’s left eye was immobile. Glass, and even a different color than his good eye. Blue, instead of his natural brown.

  The man was not alone, either. Two men with shorter hair, but just as much dirt, stood behind him with nondescript looks. This was common for them, and did not excite, nor worry them, in any way. One was even eyeing a young girl as she walked by, holding a mangy, stray kitten she had found. Too young for eyeing, she was, but he did not seem to mind.

  Such men held little respect for anything.

  They were not going to say a word, and not going to let some ruffian get them all bruised up on the night before they left for Mynnorah. Plenty of fights broke out among the young men of Gerhihn, but they did not involve weapons tucked in their belts, which all about possessed. Deciding it was best to avoid conflict, the southlanders started to walk away, but the man was not going to have that, either.

  Fighting was too much fun on a dull day.

  He grabbed Taron by the shoulder, and spun him around for a punch in the face, but Taron was quick to duck under it, and slugged the man in the gut.

  “Bash his head in, Mard!” One of the other men cheered.

  Taron did not take Mard’s breath away with the blow, so he knew that it was his turn to do the receiving. Mard tried the same swing once more, but when Taron went to duck again, Mard brought a knee up that struck him in the chin. The southlander toppled over, dropping his clothes, and his bow. He felt his quiver digging into his back, so he was quick to jump back to his feet.

  He spit some blood from his bottom lip.

  Dalt came to his aid then. He threw down his new clothes next to Taron’s on the road, and leaped into the fight, sending Mard to the street from a swift kick to the chest.

  Someone did manage to take Mard’s breath away, that time. He rose to his feet quickly, and turned toward the boys.

  Taron, was also back on his feet.

  It would have been fair for one of the men to join in, and take on one of the southlanders, but this was Tylas.

  So both stepped in.

  With daggers drawn.

  Taron gasped, and nervously freed his blade.

  Dalt drew the black, Orc dagger eagerly. It reflected colors that did not exist about them, and released an energy that felt like fear, thickening the air. It entranced the Tylas men for a moment, but then it quickly became an item they wished to possess.

  Their prize, for killing these young men.

  The three men stepped closer, and the boys did not cower. They stood there in the street ready to strike, with onlookers stopping to watch the fight.

  Mard drew his own blade, then drew nearer to Dalt, who was ready to make the first move, when someone came running out of nowhere to bat the long knife clean from Mard´s grip.

  Then the same someone dropped gracefully to the road, and with a spinning leg, he swept Mard’s feet out from under him, causing him to founder back into the other two men.

  They cursed and as they all stumbled, blaming each other.

  Quick to leap back up to his feet, Danuel turned to Taron and Dalt. “Are you two okay?”

  “Look out!” Warned Taron, and Danuel looked back just in time to see Mard hurtle a broken piece of cobblestone his direction.

  “You fight like children!” Declared Danuel, as the stone sailed by, and the three men ran toward him.

  It was time for blood.

  Still, the prince had not drawn a weapon.

  Mard swung his knife at Dalt, choosing to let the others take care of the newcomer, but he found Dalt to be no less agile. Dalt met Mard’s weapon in mid swing, then used his free hand to punch the long haired man flat on the nose. Blood ran from both nostrils as he backed away.

  Expecting to join the fight, Taron found both of the other men were going to take on Danuel, but the prince was ready for them. He grabbed one man’s arm as he swung his dagger, and twisted it to the point of screaming pain, then a sharp, downward thrust of his free palm broke the arm clean. The next knife came at him from the side, and after he ducked under it, a roundhouse kick to the jaw sent the man rolling back.

  Taron had never seen someone as fast as the prince.

  Mard had not, either. After looking at his friends crawling on the street, and the blood on his hand he had wiped from under his nose, he decided to walk away.

  Quickly.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Taron asked Danuel, as he and Dalt picked their belongings up off of the street.

  Danuel did not answer until they were walking away from the scene, and the onlookers were, also. “When you grow up on the castle grounds, the only fun you’re allowed, is learning to fight.”

  “Then someone taught you well.” Added Dalt.

  The prince frowned.

  The majority of his teaching, had come from Victor Malkyr.

  The room was nicer than expected, with two beds, a table with two chairs, and a good view of the village outside the window. Kaylel closed the curtains as night fell, then sat nervously on the edge of her bed. She still wore the robe she had the servant woman bring to her bath. Danuel had been gone the entire day, and she was worried sick about him. She laid back on the bed, her eyes staring at the ceiling. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, maybe a little flattened by use.

  Ew!

  But her pillow felt new.

  At that same instant, a noise came from one of the rooms next to hers.

  First voices.

  Then a shout.

  After that, a scream. Then she heard the banging of something hitting the wall, repeatedly. Soon it was obvious that it was just a couple being a little too clamorous about their romancing.

  Ew!

  Kaylel sighed, and quickly stood to pace the floor. She could not sleep with that racket occurring. She desperately tried to block it from her ears by humming a tune her grandmother sang while cooking, but it was not working.

  Not well enough.

  Two hard knocks on the door frightened her, and she was almost afraid to answer.

  "Kaylel." A familiar voice called. "It's me."

  She knew right away it was Danuel, and she opened the door with a smile. "Where have you been? I've been so worried."

  Danuel walked into the room carrying the clothes he had promised her, and after a quick study, she did not think he had done too badly. He had bought her several outfits, in fact.

  "I hope you like these." He placed them gently on Kaylel's bed, then fell harshly onto his own, coat and boots still on.

  Kaylel studied the outfits one by one, and often the prince, as well. He collapsed like a drunk, but he did not smell like one. She smiled at him, then disappeared behind a portable folding wall for privacy. When she came out in her first selection to see herself in the standing mirror, Danuel was snoring.

  Good.

  She did not want him watching, anyway.

  When she finished, she blew out the lamp, and quietly nestled into her own bed.

  It was a very odd feeling to sleep in the same room with the prince, but she felt quite safe.

&nb
sp; She thought she felt something crawl across her ankle.

  Ew!

  Kaylel was awakened two hours before sunrise, and Danuel rushed to wake the others. Within the next ten minutes, they met the prince out in front of the inn, his saddle and bags fastened, and already mounted on Moon's Eye's back. He was still dressed as a poor commoner, and did still not appear happy with his clothing at all.

  He was a prince, after all.

  Though he did not have many friends that were nobles, he approved highly, of the upper class attire.

  The same watchman that saw them arrive yesterday, saw them leaving today. His replacement would show at sunrise. Perhaps sooner, or even later.

  Danuel tossed the man another coin. "Forget about us, my friend."

  The watchman grabbed the coin from out of the air. It was a larger gold coin than before. He looked up wide-eyed, and nodded as he slipped the coin in his pocket. Then he turned his head, and kept it averted. He did not watch them leave, and had no idea, which way they had left.

  He did not look for some time, in fact.

  Not until the four of them were probably nearing the edge of town.

  Then he ran, to tell his boss that they had left the inn.

  The Dorol Mountains themselves, even at the entry to Derimon Pass, made the East Dorol's look like hills. Forest gave way to solid rock, as abruptly as nature would allow. Trees and weeds grew from the bottom of the out skirting mountains, in a desperate attempt to swallow them up, and claim the land that once was theirs.

  Many thousands of years, and only the rocks had grown taller.

  Danuel, Kaylel, Taron, and Dalt, waited on their horses, facing east toward Tylas. The prince had not only chosen Kaylel’s clothes well, her bay mount was also quite comfortable, but she disliked the very idea of hiring men from Tylas.

  Danuel wondered how many men would show? Perhaps two dozen? Maybe even three? How many men in Tylas could any man really trust? He expected a few wrong choices to slip in. It went with the territory, in such a case. Even the Bowenn army was constantly picking out its imperfections.

  He could hardly call thirty men an army.

  He would just have to make it work.

  Somehow.

  Nearly half of an hour passed, before figures began to pop up into view five hundred paces away, just on the far side of a steep hill. There were six or more men at a time, each riding a horse, as requested. Many more arrived, until they formed a mass too dense to see through.

  Around fifty men crested the hill, at least.

  Danuel heard Kaylel gasp. Even his eyes had widened at the sight of so many. He should have considered how desperate the men of Tylas might be themselves.

  There were probably many imperfections in that mass.

  He had a plan for finding them, however.

  The men arrived in a very disorderly fashion. This was a mere ride with friends, so it seemed. Many were laughing at the punch lines of dirty jokes, before stopping to look at the man who would hire them. Most were dressed the same, in various brown materials, and most were not well groomed.

  Only one man stood out in the crowd, as much as Deril Bahr, and not only because they were both right in front of Danuel. The one he had not met wore much finer clothes, like a prince, himself. His long-sleeve shirt was a snow white silk, with a pressed collar, opened just far enough to show off a thick, golden rope necklace. His baggy trousers were jet black, the same color as his most impressive stallion.

  The animal stood tall and attentive. Even an inch or two taller than Moon's Eye. It´s stance alone, showed Danuel it was obviously trained better than the other unsettled horses.

  The Prince moved his eyes to the man he had met the night before. "You did well, friend."

  "Thank you, sir." Said a strong voice, but strangely, it was not Deril's. It was the man in the fine clothes. "Wade Levin, at your service, sir."

  He then bowed, as far as he could atop his mount.

  Levin? Danuel had heard that name before. Recently. He recalled his father once telling him, that in a city of strangers, it was bad luck to meet someone whose name you heard previously.

  Nall was never wrong about people, either.

  "There is sixty-four of us here." Wade continued. ¨I hope that number will be sufficient for you.¨

  Then his eyes met Kaylel´s. She had been looking at him, and in a way that made her shy away when he noticed. She had pretty, pale-blue eyes, and appeared to be around the age that he preferred, but shy women were a hassle that he did not care for. They were the marrying kind.

  "More would have been fine," Danuel began, noticing that Wade's eyes were looking passed him at Kaylel, "but I am quite satisfied."

  He looked at the many faces before him. Sitting low on a horse, clear in the back, was the watchman from The King's Three Wives. His presence, made the prince uneasy.

  Uneasy was an understatement, for what Taron and Dalt felt, when they saw one of the men from the brawl in the street last night. The one that got away with a few bruises, instead of a broken arm. At least Mard was nowhere to be seen in the mix.

  "So," Wade broke the short silence, while Danuel looked around, "what exactly are you hiring us for?"

  He shot another quick glance at Kaylel, and caught her eyes again. He would have to find out, just how shy she really was.

  It was time to get on with this, Danuel knew. He would tell the whole truth, and probably thin the crowd, as well. He could not take them to Mynnorah without knowledge of their purpose. There would be no hiding what was going on, when the Dwarf army joined them.

  "I am sure the news of the attack on Bowenn has reached your ears!" He was loud enough for all to hear.

  "At least a hundred merchants have passed through our city recently." Said Wade. "They spread word until everyone heard it ten times, or more. They say small villages, too, were attacked. Orcs. Dragons. Why?"

  "I am Danuel Talbarond!" He quickly answered the question. "My father, the Great High Lord King Nall Talbarond, was slain in that battle!"

  All had heard that news, as well. It was his name and position that widened more than a few eyes. Some of the men even looked uneasy. Some appeared disbelieving.

  Wade, merely raised an eyebrow. This was a surprise!

  He loved surprises.

  "If not for his death," Danuel continued, "he would have been called to Ayarlyn to honor the Kings' Peace Oath!"

  Most of the men present, had no idea what the Kings' Peace Oath could be.

  "I am sure there is proof of the existence of a Dy'Shan Lord hidden in the Blasky Mountains!" He had lost the attention of many men, but not all. Some of them were busy explaining what the Prince had said to the others. "I am asking all who will, to join me in the fight to protect our cities! Each one of you, could earn a place in history when this is finished! Together, with our allies, we can save Lynnwood!"

  Surprisingly, no one spoke, or moved a muscle.

  Deril Bahr looked at Wade Levin, who was smiling.

  Wide.

  When it came to him, Deril always knew what Wade wanted, and was always able to get it for him. The hard part was trying to figure out the man's mind.

  Wade liked to play games.

  Annoying, in a way.

  "Soldiers you wish to make of us, then." Wade was not asking. No one had ever offered him this before! The idea was preposterous. Only a fool would ask such a thing, and only a desperate fool.

  Then again, this one was a wealthy fool. A prince, even. Wade could not help but think this was an opportunity for them all to make some serious coin, but it was an equally important decision for him to make.

  "We are not prepared to leave our homes for an undisclosed span of time." At least, Wade was not, and Deril could not go too long without gambling. “You should have said nothing of two weeks, and perhaps given some forewarning.”

  ¨Forgive me for being new at lying, Mister Levin,¨ Danuel apologized, ¨but perhaps that should say something for my character.¨

/>   Wade did not respond.

  "Everything you will need will be given to you when we reach Mynnorah!" He continued to speak to everyone, seeing through Wade. "Food and clothes will be plentiful, I assure you!"

  "What about my wages?" One of the men spoke out, and when Wade turned to find him, he prayed that he was not found.

  "None of you will go without your daily requirements!" Danuel assured, but he could tell by the looks on many of their faces, that they doubted he would actually see to it. "If you do not wish to join me, then I will even pay a fair price for your time spent this morning!"

  No one was leaving, at least.

  Not yet.

  Wade sat high on his mount smiling, while the others watched him closely, waiting for a reply.

  "Pardon me for asking," he began, "but do you often mislead people into doing your bidding? Or are you just used to getting your way, Prince Talbarond?"

  Danuel did not care for the tone that Wade was developing.

  "You may be a prince in Bowenn," the big man continued, "but you are just a man, at the moment."

  Deril was on the verge of laughing.

  "My men are not soldiers.¨ Wade waved a hand across the lot of them. ¨They are not valiant heroes. They have very little, or no, honor. Why, if we chose to, we could tie you up, and simply hold you for a grand ransom. In fact, there's a lot less danger, that route. Just a businessman's perspective."

  All true, even the Prince could not argue those facts.

  "Then let us do business." Danuel said quickly. "I´ll let you decide what action will make you the wealthiest."

  Men began to talk out loud to each other. Discussing their plans that they would have to break, if they were to leave home. There was mostly talk of leaving.

  "We will go!" Wade spoke loud enough to end all of their talking, and they looked at him with gaping mouths. "Then we decide to ride further, once we see how taken care of we are, in Mynnorah."

  Deril still could not figure out the reason for this game.

  "Good." Danuel's confidence returned. "Are your men well armed, Mister Levin? That will be as important as food, and water, in the days to come.¨