“So, you're going to teach us something, are you?” the drunken leader asked with a chuckle. “We'll see who learns the most tonight!” he yelled, grabbing Kilren by the shoulder from behind.
“Erana, keep Gwendolyn out of this!” The young rogue said with a wink.
Before the intoxicated brute knew what was happening, Kilren reached out and seized the chair in which he had been sitting. In one fluid motion the rogue swept around, breaking it over the back of his assailant. Darian and the other three drunken roughs stood motionless for a moment. For his own part, the Telian was trying to figure out just how Kilren had ended up with a man at his feet and a broken chair in his hands. As he was contemplating that fact a fist, roughly the size of a ham, struck him squarely in the face. The fight had begun in earnest.
Doubtlessly, the young knight's opponent thought the powerful blow would knock Darian off his feet. However, his adversary hadn't counted on his training or natural sense of balance. Nor had he any way of knowing that Daegon had often given Darian a similar, if much harder, buffet. The young knight reeled from the unexpected attack, but did not lose his footing. In a flash, he returned the assault, knocking the drunken lout to the floor with his gauntlet covered fist.
Kilren ducked a swing from another of his assailants before kicking his attacker squarely in the stomach. As his opponent doubled over from the pain, the rogue struck him in back of the head with the bits of chair still remaining in his hands. The leader of the drunken band leapt from the floor, attempting to tackle Kilren from behind. However, the young rogue shot to the side, apparently guided by unseen forces, narrowly avoiding his furious attacker.
Darian worked as quickly as he could to pull the gauntlets from his hands. As his first blow landed, he realized what an unfair advantage his steel covered hands were in a fist fight. As much as he longed to help his companion, he could do nothing until he had evened the odds. In future, he would remove his gauntlets as soon as he sat down at a table. That way, he would be ready for anything!
Kilren sprang to the side, dodging yet another attack, only to trip over the lout he had last knocked to the floor. As soon as he landed, he was seized by four large hands and jerked to his feet. Two of the brutes held the rogue between them as a third punched him in the gut. It was clear that Kilren was going to need help quickly.
Darian tore the second gauntlet from his hand and threw it to the floor. However, before he could come to the aid of his companion, the largest of their drunken adversaries grabbed the young knight by the top and bottom of his breastplate; lifting him bodily from the ground. As he raised the Telian above his head, no doubt intending to smash him through their table, Darian heard the sound of shattering glass above the din. His opponent collapsed, dropping him to ground as he did so. The gallant champion looked up to see the well-dressed dwarf standing in a chair with a broken bottle of wine in his hands.
Without hesitation, Darian leapt to his feet rushing to the aid of his ally. Once again, however, he was too late. Tealor suddenly dashed through the door of the Raven. In what seemed like a single motion, the warrior floored one of the roughs with a blow of his fist, kicked another over the table, and elbowed the last in the stomach – the brute stood a moment, panting for breath, before collapsing.
“You were right, my love,” Sarena observed as she stepped into the room, glancing over the devastation caused by the fight, “we should have walked faster. Still, you must admit the fool managed to get into trouble even more quickly than you anticipated.”
“It wasn't Kilren's fault...” Erana said, rising from behind the overturned table with Gwendolyn at her side.
“Well, thank you!” the rogue replied, slowly lifting himself from the floor.
“Aye, there was little the lad could do,” the dwarf asserted, stepping down from the chair on which he was standing. “The louts had it coming.”
“Then, I'm happy we arrived in time to help give it to them,” Tealor replied, smiling down at the men who lay at his feet.
As soon as it was obvious the fight was over, the landlord approached and demanded payment for the damages done to his furniture. In truth, this amounted to nothing more than one smashed chair, which their party had unquestionably broken. As a result, Darian felt compelled to reimburse the owner for his loss. However, as the Telian opened his purse, the dwarf silently raised his hand and shook his head at the young knight before turning his attention to the landlord.
“Talfin, as cheap a man as you are, you're not going to charge your guests for a fight they didn't start. If you want coin, get it from one of these boys,” he said, gently kicking one of the prostate figures in the side. “You know very well this isn't the first time they've done something like this. Now, go fetch me another bottle and we'll say no more about it.”
“Alright Ian, have it your own way! Drive me out of business! But, remember this the next time you're here, and there's no inn where you can rest your tiny bones.”
The landlord stomped off toward the kitchen, and the dwarf turned to speak to the party.
“Allow me to introduce myself...” the small figure began, reaching up for the hat that wasn't on his head. As his hand closed on nothing, he glanced up saying, “Excuse me for a moment.”
He stepped briskly over to his own table, picked up the large feathered hat, placed it on his head and returned to the party.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he began again; this time successfully removing his hat and bowing to the party. “I am Ian Donald Angus Malcolm McFaren of the clan McFaren, the famous dwarvish bard.”
“A dwarvish bard...” Kilren said slowly, lingering on the last word in particular.
“Aye,” Ian replied, staring at him with one raised eyebrow, “but, you needn't say the words as if you'd never heard them before”
“Isn't that rather rare?” the young rogue asked, trying to hide the smile that was slowly spreading across his face.
“Indeed it is. However, stupidity is rare enough among humans – so they tell me – but, I seem to have stumbled upon a veritable well of it. In either case, I didn't introduce myself so that you and I could stand about discussing our relative singularity compared to other members of our race. No, I thought I might have a word with this prodigious warrior who is, unless I miss my guess, the mighty Tealor of ever increasing fame.”
“How did you know that?” the large warrior asked, gazing down at the bard.
“Well, a large man, whose attire clearly reveals the fact that he's a warrior steps into the room. In less time than it would take most men to realize they've walked into a fight, this man attacks and downs three opponents – who still lay at our feet. As the third of these poor devils collapses, a remarkably beautiful woman steps into the room making rather witty observations with her extremely melodious voice. Now, I ask myself 'Who could this powerful man be who is traveling with such a ravishing companion?' You may be flattered to know the only answer I could bring to mind was 'Tealor, the mercenary warrior.'”
“Well, I suppose we are a rather unique sight in these parts.” the warrior grinned.
“That you are,” the dwarf replied, stepping over to right the table that was still laying on its side. “Now, I also see that you're traveling with a number of, shall we say, unusual companions. It's my guess that there's a bit of a story behind it. I hope you're willing to tell it.”
“I certainly see no harm in letting this bard hear the tale of your glory, dear one,” the lovely sorceress said, stepping closer to Ian, “I am Sarena.”
“I am honored,” the dwarf replied, taking her hand gently in his own and softly kissing it. “Now, if you'll excuse me, my lady, we'll clean this mess up so that we can talk properly.”
Having said this, the bard stepped over to the largest of the unconscious men, took him by the heels, and dragged him quickly out of the inn and into the street. The other three ruffians quickly followed; in moments, the room was free of debris and the entire party gathered around their table
. Darian got a new chair for Kilren after paying for the one which had been broken, despite the protestations of the dwarvish bard and much to the satisfaction of the grateful landlord. Darian, Kilren, Erana and Gwendolyn each introduced themselves in turn as the party sat waiting for the meal they had ordered to arrive. The bard pulled out the book he had been so recently reading and, from a small pocket of his coat, also drew forth a quill and a bottle of ink.
“Now, let me see,” Ian said, glancing up at Darian. “I'm certain you're not a Solarin knight, so what are you and why are you dressed that way?”
“I'm a Telian knight and...” Darian began.
“Say no more,” the dwarf replied, raising his hand. ”That also answers my next question which was going to be 'Why did you take the time to remove your gauntlets in the middle of a brawl?'”
“I was going to ask that myself!” Kilren exclaimed, nodding his head.
“Well, if you know he's a Telian you shouldn't need to ask. Especially, of one this young. It'd be my guess that he's on the journey or that he's just recently completed it. A word of advice, young knight: when you're attacked, your assailants have already agreed to the terms of combat. If they had wanted you to remove your gauntlets, they should have asked you to do so before assaulting your friend. In any event, it's good you've got them off now. It'll be much easier for you to manage a knife and fork. Now, young lady, how came a member of the fair folk to be on this side of the mountains?” he asked, turning to Erana.
“I'm going through the trials, if you know of them.”
“If I know of the trials?” the dwarf chuckled. “Yes, I know of them. Still, I'm not certain why they would lead you here.”
“My father wanted me to come to this place to find some human who needed aid. Although, I can't fathom why that was his demand.”
“I see...” the bard replied, gazing at her pensively before turning his attention to Gwendolyn. “And you, young maiden. How did you come to be a member of this remarkable band?”
“I was kidnapped,” she replied excitedly.
“Kidnapped by a Telian and a ranger of Innalas? I find that hard to believe!” The bard replied, scratching his chin under his beard.
“No! I mean I was kidnapped, and they came to rescue me,” the maiden explained.
“Ah, now that sounds more reasonable,” Ian nodded.
“How did you know I was from Innalas?” the ranger asked, smiling at the bard.
“What? Oh, several things. The trials very rarely lead rangers from their homelands; when they do, it's almost never to any great distance. You're clearly a ranger, so the question becomes simply 'Where's she from?' and the answer to that would most likely be Innalas; it being the nearest of the elvish kingdoms. Then, of course, the emblem of Innalas is clearly stamped on the left shoulder of your armor. In any event, Kilren, you seem to stand out in this remarkable band as, shall we say, less remarkable.”
“Well, thank you!” the rogue said with a tone of sarcasm in his voice.
“How did you end up as a member of this outstanding party?” The bard asked, jotting notes in his book as he spoke.
“He tried to rob me and this is his penance,” Darian answered proudly.
“You tried to rob a Telian?” the bard asked, before the entire party – with the exception of the knight and the rogue – burst into laughter.
“I'm so glad that we brought you with us, fool,” Sarena said, smiling broadly at the young rogue. “I knew you would be an amusing diversion.”
“It was dark,” Kilren replied, gazing sulkily down at the table. “Obviously, I didn't know he was a Telian.”
“I'm certain the Eilian guided him to that moment so he could learn the error of his ways. I hardly think his repentance should be a matter of mirth!” his friend said indignantly on his behalf.
“Well, Kilren has proved his worth to my satisfaction,” Tealor said, nodding at the young rogue. “Still, that doesn't make the manner in which he ended up with us any less amusing.”
“I assure you, young knight, the Eilian themselves laugh at our mistakes from time to time,” the bard replied, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I certainly meant no insult to your companion.”
Having said this, Ian asked them for the entire story and listened quietly to the narrative as each helped unfold the tale from their particular point of view. He listened in silence, only interrupting to ask questions to clarify some point or other; all the time taking notes in the large volume before him. As they spoke, their meal arrived; their tale was soon told and their plates were soon clean. Near the end of their repast, Ian drew a long pipe from another of his pockets, filled it with tobacco, and lighted it. For a long while, he smoked in silence before once again resuming his questions.
“You don't know why Galrin wanted you kidnapped?” he asked Gwendolyn, as he sat wreathed in smoke.
“I don't,” the maiden replied. “Even the men that kidnapped me didn't know.”
“I see...” the dwarf said, taking a long draw from his pipe. “Do any of you know anything of Galrin or his master Valrak?”
“I know a fair bit about them, yes,” Tealor answered. “Few in these parts haven't heard of the mercenary lord's rise to power and the venerable wizard that is his foster father and servant.”
“I know Galrin's mad,” Gwendolyn added.
“How do you know that?” the bard asked, turning his gaze to the fair young maid.
“Well, one of the mercenaries claimed that he's looking for the gates of death,” the maiden replied. “But, there's no such thing.”
“Isn't there?” Ian asked with a smile, before taking another draw from his pipe. “Are you certain that's what they said?”
The young girl sat for a moment, thinking carefully.
“Actually, they said he was looking for the key to the gates of death, but it's the same thing,” she answered.
“Is it?” the bard asked. “I think there's a grand difference between a key and a door.”
“I mean; there's no such thing in either case,” she replied.
“I agree,” Tealor added. “He's mad, either way. At least, if that's true; which I very much doubt.”
“Well, this puts me in mind of a story,” the dwarf said, squinting up his eyes thoughtfully and taking another long pull from his pipe. “Many, many years ago, when Areon was far younger than it is now, there was a great war that spread across the face of the world. No man, woman or child was free from the struggle and every race fought for dominion or survival. The Eilian themselves waged war against one another and both the heavens and the earth served as their battlegrounds. Winrall, the greatest and first of the Eilian, gave some of his followers eternal life and bound their souls to Areon forever. However, in time, his legions were defeated and the bodies of his deathless warriors were destroyed. Their formless souls wandered the world longing for the rest that would be denied them until all things end.” The bard paused, taking another draw from his smoldering pipe before continuing. “These poor spirits cried out to their father begging for rest and Winrall longed to give it to them. As the war had ended and peace was restored, the Eilian once again worked together as brothers. Theolan, the father of man and the lord of magic, helped Winrall create a place for the lost souls that could not reach the heavens. For those that could not find their way to Kaldor, they created Havlas, the place of forgetting, where these unfortunate spirits could wait until time itself comes to an end. It was created by – and sealed with – both the divine and arcane power. Once a soul enters Havlas, it can never again leave. So, you see, the gates of death are real and, where there are gates, there may be a key.”
As the bard stopped talking, the entire party sat in silence. Kilren was the first to speak.
“What's that got to do with Gwendolyn getting kidnapped?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.” Ian replied, shaking his head. “At least, as far as I can see. My point was that Galrin isn't mad. I've heard many tales of him, but I've ne
ver heard of him doing anything without a reason. If it was truly Galrin that wanted her kidnapped, you can be sure he has a purpose. If that's the case, he's not going to give up just because she's been rescued. He'll try again. Mark my words; he will try again.”
“Well then, we had better get the child home as quickly as possible,” Tealor said before lifting his flagon to finish its contents. “We had better all get to bed. We need to leave with the first light of dawn.”
“This story interests me greatly,” the dwarf said, closing his book and gazing up at the large warrior. “Might I be permitted to travel with you?”
“It could be dangerous for one of your profession,” the warrior replied. “Especially if Galrin really is after this girl.”
“I wouldn't worry about that,” the bard chuckled. “There are some who would say that Ian Donald Angus Malcolm McFaren knows how to handle a blade, and none would say that he's a shame to his clan when it comes to facing danger.”
“Well, then,” Sarena smiled, “we'll be glad to have you along.”
As the party broke up for the night, arrangements were made for Gwendolyn, Erana, and Sarena to share a room on the second floor of the little inn. Darian and Kilren were also to share a room and, at the first opportunity, the two weary companions made straight for its door. Just as Darian began to remove his armor, he heard a knock on the door. Opening it, he found Tealor standing in the hallway. The large warrior stepped quickly into the room.
“Don't bother taking off your armor,” he said as soon as the door was closed behind him. “We're going to have to take turns watching the girl's room tonight.”
“Why?” Darian asked. “Isn't this village safe?”
“Normally, I would say that it was,” Tealor replied. “If it wasn't, I'd never have brought us here. However, Ian's got me thinking. If Galrin really is after the maiden, we may well run into trouble before we cross the Mikralian border. We have to be very careful and make sure Gwendolyn is never out of our sight or away from our protection.”
The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1) Page 11
