by R. E. Fisher
Gnack nodded. “Yes, madam, they did. They have come upon our realm in a rather strange manner, of which I could tell you nothing. We have offered to assist them, because as you can tell, they wouldn’t last long without it.”
“Obviously you are a true humanitarian. How much of this are you willing to part with, my friends?” Cede asked the gnome, looking at the two pilots.
“Why, all of it, madam! As you can see, they have a great need for all manner of supplies, and—well, quite honestly, there is Dumas’s fee.”
“Ahh, so you intend to introduce them to the bear. How do you know he’ll accept them?”
“Look at them; they’re soldiers in their world. They’ve already got a step up on anyone else. But let’s get back to business. What are you offering?”
She counted out the two hundred sheets in the tablet and after some quick mental calculations, she said, “I’ll give you six hundred gold pieces.”
Gnack looked at her and smiled. “A generous offer, madam; but I could not take less than a thousand.”
“You would put me out of business, sir? I could go no higher than...hmmm...seven hundred and fifty.”
“I will split the difference with you. Say nine hundred?”
“The difference, sir, would be eight hundred and seventy-five. That would also be my final offer,” she said with a small grin.
“A bargain by anyone’s assessment, madam. We thank you for your courteous and honest trade.” With that, Gnack gave a bow, which he finished with a flourish of his bell-laden cap.
“Ohh, Gnack, you are such a joy to haggle with!” she laughed, clapping her hands. She reached down and shook Gnack’s hand to close the deal.
Gnack returned the smile. “Madam Tecress, I cannot think of any other shop I would trade with, and if you ever close I shall never again visit your splendid city! Are you sure you haven’t any gnome in you? You certainly haggle like one! No, I guess you don’t; you’re much too tall!”
At this statement, Cede rose to her full five feet and strode into the back room. She counted out the golden coins; upon returning, she handed them to the gnome. He took the leather pouch and placed it inside his vest.
“There you are, gentle sir, and may your path be safe,” Cede stated.
“Thank you, madam! As always, it was a pleasure.” Gnack tipped his hat and the party walked out of the shop.
As they exited the shop, Gnick pointed to the left, and the party left to meet Dumas the Bear. But not before Gnick held out his hand. “The gold, please, brother.”
As if offended, Gnack made a sucking noise through his teeth but handed over the pouch he had been given. Gnick bounced the pouch a couple times in his palm. “All of it, brother!” he said with a small smile. Gnack handed him ten additional gold pieces. “We receive a fee for our help and knowledge; that’s only fair,” he said.
Laz and Ollie looked at one another, amazed that Gnick had seen the minor theft of his brother. Neither of them had seen the sleight of hand that had allowed Gnack to pilfer the ten gold coins.
“This way,” Gnick said, smiling and handing Ollie the coin purse.
The two men turned and followed the two brownies as they made their way past the eclectic people populating the market district at that time of day. The smell of hot food assailed them as they walked past booths that hawked their fresh, hot dishes. Laz looked longingly at something that looked like barbeque ribs.
“I wouldn’t eat that! Looks like balnatharp,” Gnack said. “Smells better that way, though!”
Confused, Laz looked at the gnome as they passed the booths and out onto Seven Kings Row once again. They traveled up the road past the huge and beautiful statues they had seen earlier, and then past the Tower of Tears. Gnick led them past the tower to the northeast portion of the city, a city that seemed much larger than either of the two outworlders had imagined when seeing it from several leagues away. They passed the Royal Gardens, then Tower of Justice, the King’s Court, and out past the statue of the Guardian. The statue showed a humble soldier dressed in armor making a valiant stand against a woodland elf, driving a lance through the creature’s chest.
“Sad memories of days long past,” Gnick offered without stopping.
Laz and Ollie stared at the statue but continued following the gnomes. They guided the men across a field of stone that reminded Ollie of the parade grounds at the academy they had attended.
They walked past the King’s reviewing stand, past several buildings that were made of simple fieldstone but looked ancient. Gnick ignored the buildings and led them down an alleyway to a structure adorned with several banners and flags. Each of the flags signified the various units formed through the centuries to battle the city’s enemies. They came to a stop at a door where two city guards stood on duty, preventing their entry.
“Now, when we go in, don’t stare at the bear,” Gnick said, turning to face the two guards before either of the pilots could say anything.
“We have two men who wish to volunteer to serve the king!” Gnick said formally to the guards.
“And why do they wish to serve?” the senior of the two guards asked.
“For tales and ales,” Gnick answered with a smile, knowing how informal the bear liked to keep things.
“Then welcome,” the guard replied, smiling back at the gnomes and opening the door for the group.
Gnick, Gnack, and the two pilots entered the building, letting their eyes adjust to the dim light.
“Holy shit!” Laz shouted, stepping back toward the door and trying to open it to retreat.
“Whoa! This is Dumas!” Gnack said, howling with laughter; his brother joined in as well.
“You didn’t say he was a real bear, damn it!” Laz exclaimed.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” Dumas offered. Then, looking at the two gnomes, he added, “You two really need to stop doing that!”
“We can’t help it, fuzzy!” Gnack said, looking at Dumas and giggling.
“We’re sorry, really,” Gnick offered halfheartedly through his laughter, “but they wouldn’t have believed us anyway!”
Ollie looked at the two gnomes and the talking bear, shock registering on his face. He stepped toward the wall nearest the door and leaned back against it, sliding down to the floor. His butt came to rest on the floor with a rather unceremonious thump as he placed his hands over his face, breathing deeply.
“See what you did?” Dumas said angrily to the gnomes.
“He’ll get over it,” Gnack offered, giggling.
Laz looked at the bear and asked, “You can talk? What the hell?”
“Yeah, yeah; it’s a long story. How about we let the school’s rumormongers fill you in on it if you’re curious. What do you need?” Dumas asked the gnomes, perturbed at the interruption.
“We brought them to you for training, Dumas. Actually, they come from another realm, and since we heard you might know people who might know something about it, we brought them here. That, and they need training,” Gnick said seriously.
“Lots and lots of it is my guess,” Gnack offered.
Dumas looked at the two men; he could see that they wore uniforms of some sort, but he didn’t recognize them, so he asked, “Do they know how to fight?”
“I don’t think so,” Gnack said.
“So, it’s going to be a long-term thing. Do they have the coin for it?” Dumas asked.
“Yes; we made sure of it. I’m guessing it’s a lot more expensive than the last time we were here,” Gnick said.
“Well, I don’t control that. The King’s treasurer sets those rates,” Dumas offered somewhat apologetically. “We have the room if they have the coin.”
“He has it,” Gnick said, pointing toward Ollie.
“Well, then, you can leave us to get acquainted,” Dumas said to the two gnomes.
“Here; these will help,” Gnack said, offering the pilots a couple of simple gold bands.
“They won’t last forever, but you’ll be ab
le to keep understanding what’s being said for about a month. That’s all the time you’ll have to learn common.”
Each of the men took the ring that was offered to them and slipped it on their hands, after which Gnack looked at them and with a broad smile and salute said, “Well, good luck, boys!”
As they turned to leave, Gnick looked at Gnack and whispered, “Is Tecress going to come looking for us again?”
“Noooooo!”
Gnick looked at his brother, waiting.
Gnack said carefully, “Well, I don’t think so, anyway.”
“Why do you always do that?” Gnick asked, exasperated, as the door closed behind them.
After several hours of discussion of the rules and expectations, the two exhausted men were taken to the armory, where they were provided with clothing and some very cheap, ill-fitting armor. They were then shown to their quarters and each assigned a bunk, where they both passed out from their exhausting journey with the two gnomes.
“All right; get your arses out of them bed sacks, lazy hobgoblins!” Dumas shouted as he walked through the barracks, kicking the bunks and several of the warriors who had been too slow to get out of his way in the morning confusion of reveille.
“You’d think with all that fur covering his paw, his foot would be softer,” Laz whispered to Ollie as they fled from the barracks, both ensuring that they were wearing the rings the gnomes had given them.
The men and women in training formed a double line in the courtyard while they fastened the buttons on their shirts and trousers. Ollie looked around, amazed.
All his new comrades in arms formed in the yard, and he watched them in awe. There were humans, half-elves, and according to Dumas, a small band of dwarves would be joining them in a few days. For Ollie, the most intriguing feature of the half-elves was their eyes, he thought. Their color wasn’t normal. The corneas were milky shades of various colors. For Laz, they were interesting; for Ollie, they were disturbing. According to Dumas, they could see in the dark; the more he explained it to them, the more Ollie likened the effect to the night vision goggles the ground-pounders used. The elves didn’t sleep heavily, either. Laz, on the other hand, had slept the sleep of the dead. Ollie had heard Laz snoring after a grueling day of running—not loudly, but steadily. One of the half-elves had appeared between their bunks and tapped Laz on the shoulder. He had rolled over, and he quit snoring for the rest of the night—or at least Ollie hadn’t heard him.
The group began the walk to the parade grounds, and when they arrived, they noticed a unit of the King’s Brigade practicing their movements. The sun had barely risen, and its warm orange glow colored the white walls throughout the city. The entire party did some stretches, and Dumas began a slow jog around the parade field. He had dropped down to all fours, his claws making a clicking sound on the cool stones of the street as he began to run around the parade field. Laz nudged Ollie as they all fell in behind the bear, nodding in the direction of the parade field. Soldiers had begun streaming out onto the field, forming into units. There were hundreds of professional soldiers standing at attention, each unit identified by a bright colorful standard at the front of the ranks.
Neither Laz nor Ollie understood the language yet, so they had no idea how the military was structured, but Ollie figured that the men with the copper piping were the equivalent of a sergeant. They were running around counting their charges and shouting what he figured was the count to an officer. Adjutants then relayed the final total to the commander. As the group moved away and the voices faded, Ollie’s breath began to become labored. He hated that part, getting into the rhythm of the run. Every morning, they ran six miles. Every afternoon they ran six miles. Ollie and Laz had worked out regularly as pilots typically did; given the rigors of flying, he hadn’t run twelve miles a day—ever. He had seen people develop shin splints and other maladies that would prevent them from being able to keep up; he was afraid they would find themselves in the same situation.
Laz, on the other hand, was starting to get into it. Ollie noticed with each passing day that he seemed more involved. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Laz was starting to pay more attention. He was becoming more aggressive with the sword practice and was very involved in the hand-to-hand combat. He even began studying the language primer Dumas had given them. They were both starting to understand rudimentary words in their new language. He practiced with Laz—more than he would have liked. But most of their time was consumed with exercises of every sort. Physical training, weapons training, daggers, then light swords, then heavy swords. Laz even tried learning how to use a two-handed sword.
Ollie, on the other hand, couldn’t quite get the hang of the sword. It was a shortcoming that Dumas made sure was regularly and painfully pointed out to him. While sparring with one of the half-elves, his sword had been ripped from hand.
Dumas had seen this and rushed into the middle of the mock fight. His roar had stopped all the students in their tracks, angering him even more. He had proceeded to use one of his massive paws to knock Ollie to the ground, hard. The bear began bellowing about how in battle there were going to be the roars and cries of men’s anger and pain as well as those of beasts and monsters. He shouted about how a dragon’s roar or a harpy’s shriek could cripple men with fear. He padded in front each of the would-be warriors, shouting lessons in each language, common and elvish. He told them they would need to keep their wits, and that they would have to be able to separate noise showing a true threat from those he likened to “a flea’s growl.”
Dumas instructed Ollie to follow him.
The two of them walked to the armory, and the bear had him place the rapier he was carrying back into the weapons rack. He told the pilot to pick up a hammer or a mace. Ollie picked up a hammer first; it reminded him of a sledgehammer with a shortened shaft. The head of the weapon had to weigh five pounds, and the idea of swinging it more than three or four times at an enemy depressed him. He replaced the hammer and picked up a mace; it had a longer handle, and the head was lighter. To Ollie, it felt just right—no, it felt perfect. He began swinging the mace in crossover movements, and then he brought it down in an overhand swing. When he redirected the mace, the weight seemed to shift in the direction he intended as if of its own accord. Dumas laughed and walked out of the armory.
Moments later, Ollie walked from the armory with the mace. He found his sparring partner, who looked at Dumas, who told them both to go ahead. The men warmed up by swinging their weapons in attacking motions. Ollie’s opponent, a half-elf named Bloodwillow, took his longsword, swung it a few more times, and smiled at his newfound friend. The two would-be soldiers closed in on one another, becoming more defensive as they did so. As Ollie came within striking distance, Bloodwillow feinted a thrust at Ollie and attempted to strike him with the blunt end of his practice sword. Ollie knocked the weapon tip past his right shoulder. The elf attempted to withdraw, but as the blade tip went past Ollie’s shoulder, Ollie stepped inside Bloodwillow’s nonexistent guard. He brought the practice mace upward, and he used the haft of the mace to strike the half-elf on the chin. Bloodwillow was knocked backward and fell to ground as Ollie pressed the attack further. Bloodwillow looked up, smiled, and said something Ollie was unable to understand. Whatever the elf had said, it had made everyone else laugh. Ollie was about to get angry when Dumas, seeing the situation for what it was, alleviated Ollie’s anger.
“He just said he wondered why it took you so long to see such a simple move. And he was right. The mace seems to suit you. Stay with it.”
Ollie looked at Bloodwillow and nodded, helping him up with a small grin.
Laz walked over to Ollie. “Don’t let it go to your head, man!” Laz said with a smile.
“Trust me, I won’t. It was blind luck.”
“I don’t think so. You saw the opening and took it. You did it without thinking about it. That’s what the bear’s been trying to teach us.”
Everyone else resumed their sparring, and the cl
ang of iron and the muted sound of wood striking wood began resounding throughout the yard. Laz gave Ollie a playful shove. “Yippee ki-yay...” the rest of Laz’s exclamation was drowned out by the loud, muted thud of Ollie’s mace striking his friend’s breastplate.
Chapter 13
“Forgive others for transgressions against thee, for it is only then that thou wilt gain the path to righteousness.”
(A.Py.5.3 - Book of Air, Tenets of Pyramael, Chapter 5, Verse 3)
“Why is she here?” Hindle asked as he pointed toward Tetra. “This is unprecedented.”
“I would think that the better question is: why was your familiar skulking about another master’s tower again?” Tacel Dark-Crevice replied.
“Perhaps this would not have happened had you kept your pet on a leash,” Phistic said pointedly.
“Eivy was not there to spy on Pokmok—”
“No, just our guest,” Veluna said, cutting Hindle off.
“I have already apologized to Pokmok; what else would you have me do?”
“Control your nosey little pet,” Phistic interjected.
Lleward looked around the table, still wondering what had occurred—and how. Pokmok had said nothing about it, yet it was his tower that had been violated. It had been his job to educate Tetra, not place her at risk, as they had each already determined for themselves. He stood to address the mages. “This bickering will get us nowhere. We will deal with Hindle’s transgressions later. I have many questions,” he said.
The mages quieted, casting angry and skeptical glares toward Hindle as they did.
“What did the spirit mean by telling us about the one who was cast out from their own realm and who seeks that ancient relic, the Sword of Jerrous?” he asked.
“It has to do with the Riddle of Jerrous, I believe,” Authen Terail answered.
“Why?” Lleward asked.
