"Dwarves, here?"
Commander Salic nodded.
"They joined us last night, walked into camp right after Lord Micah departed. The big blonde one approaching is Axethane Bran."
"Axethane? He seems kind of young to be an Axethane," Rand commented.
"Young or not, he is an Axethane. There can be no doubt given the way the rest defer to him. The young black haired one in the gray tunic is Dain. He’s a healer."
"He is just a boy. Are they so lacking in healers that they are recruiting children now?"
"Child in age only," Bran said coming up to them.
"I have met no greater healer in all my days. And to answer your question, no, we are not lacking in healers. Dain asked to join my company. I granted his request and have not regretted it," Bran said defensively.
"Axethane Bran, isn’t it?" Rand asked.
"Aye, I am Axethane Bran, and who might you be?"
"I am Rand, scout of the Brannan Army. I meant no disrespect, Axethane," Rand apologized, bowing to him.
"I was just surprised to see one so young among such obvious warriors."
Bran noticed the purpling bruise on Rand’s arm.
"Seems you could use that child’s services, Scout Rand." Bran turned back to his men.
"Dain, would you come here, lad? We have a man in need of your skills." Bran turned back to Rand, a challenging look in his eyes.
Rand bowed again, slightly this time, to Bran.
"Any relief would be most welcome and appreciated, Axethane."
"You speak more like a courtier than a scout." Bran held out his arm to Dain and drew him close.
"This man is injured. Would you be so kind as to see to his wound?"
"Of course, Axethane," Dain replied. He walked up to Rand.
Rand held his arm out.
"It is just bruised," Rand assured him.
"I had to jam it into the mouth of a Were to keep it from ripping my throat out."
Dain took the arm gently, turning it this way and that, inspecting the damaged tissue.
"This should be easy enough. You are correct. It is bruised, but the bone has been chipped as well. Give me a few minutes here." Dain clasped his hands around the arm and opened himself to the wound. He felt the depth of the bruising and the small bone chip which had been dislodged from the outer bone of the forearm. He sent the healing power through his hands and into Rand’s arm.
Rand felt warmth flowing into his arm and then a sharp pain. He sucked in his breath through clenched teeth. No sooner did the pain hit before it vanished completely. He saw the bruise start to diminish and the swelling recede. A few seconds later, Dain removed his hands, and Rand could no longer see any trace of the wound. He flexed his fingers. The stiffness was gone as well. He quirked a grin and bowed to the young dwarf.
"My thanks, Healer Dain. I appear to be in order once again."
Dain returned the bow with his hands folded before him.
"You are most welcome, sir," Dain replied with a bright smile and then returned to Bran’s side.
Bran eyed Rand with a satisfied look on his face.
"As you can see, Dain’s age has no bearing on his ability to heal. Even though yours was a minor wound, I assure you he is a more than capable healer."
"I apologize if I have offended you, Axethane Bran, and you, Healer Dain. I meant no disrespect," Rand assured them.
Bran grunted what Rand took to be an acceptance of his apology and turned back to Dain.
"Thank you, Dain, please return to the others."
"Yes, Axethane," Dain replied.
Rand could see the awe in the boy’s young face when Bran addressed him. He could also see the fierce protection Bran held for the boy. Maybe they were related somehow, though he could not see any physical resemblance between the two. He mentally shrugged, knowing how close knit dwarves were, and turned his attention back to Commander Salic.
"Commander, I am not sure if the far side of the pass is still open. The two scouts Fire and I took out earlier this morning seemed to be alone, but with the twisting of the pass, there could have been more that I would not have been able to see. I would advise caution. There could be traps laid ahead."
"How long ago was your battle?" Commander Salic asked.
"Three or four hours past. The way should be clear for at least as long, but anything is possible now that the Avari do not hold the marsh end of the pass."
Bran had been listening to the exchange.
"Commander Salic, permit me and my men to go before you. If there are traps, we will spot them. We have been fighting the shifters for weeks now and have come to know their ways all too well."
"Your offer is much appreciated, but I would not put you and your men in harm’s way, Axethane Bran. You and your men have been much in the vanguard lately. Let us bear the brunt of it for a while. I would, however, appreciate if you would walk with me and tell me what you know of their tactics."
Bran sighed. He knew the Commander was being cautious and did not want allies walking point for him. Bran felt the same way. But, in this land, he was the guest, and Commander Salic was in charge. Not so long ago, he would have followed those orders without question. Now, after being in command, Bran found it difficult to follow another’s orders, even when he knew they were meant as a courtesy and to protect his men. The dwarven way was to be in the battle's midst, face to face with the enemy, not holding back while others fought.
"I will be happy to tell you all I know of them," Bran replied looking anything but happy.
Commander Salic turned to Rand.
"Lead the way, Rand. Leave Fire here with Smoke and Captain Hamil’s horse. The grooms will see to them when they arrive. I think it best to be on foot from now on."
"As you wish. I know Fire could certainly use the break." He rubbed Fire’s nose.
"You stay here, boy. You have done enough for one day." Rand turned and started back the way he had come. Commander Salic let him get about twenty or so paces ahead and then gestured for Bran to accompany him. Captain Hamil waved the men forward and then fell into step with Commander Salic and Bran.
Captain Hamil listened intently to Bran as he described the tactics and strategies he had encountered against the Weres. Most were tactics already known to both men, but with a wizard leading the Weres, scenarios could change in an instant. This would be no border skirmish. This would be all out war, and the Weres were now guided by someone with an intelligence that went beyond anything Captain Hamil could comprehend. He only hoped that intelligence did not include a penchant for strategy as well. Knowing the well-earned reputations of most of the wizards, however, that was a slim hope.
Captain Hamil scanned the ridges above as they walked. If there were to be an ambush, that’s where it would come from. Fighting Weres was very different than fighting normal men. With a man, you could use some logic and reason to figure out his strategies. With Weres, you had to deal with animal cunning and stealth. A predatory cat could hide in places a man could not. He was glad Rand was leading them. If anyone could spot something out of place, it would be him.
They walked on for a couple of hours, the last hour in silence. They were nearing the Narrows. If they were going to run into an ambush, this would be a likely spot. Rand, walking ahead of them, quietly drew his sword. Captain Hamil looked to Commander Salic and gestured with his head indicating the Narrows. Commander Salic nodded and drew his own sword. Bran had his axes in his hands already. Captain Hamil turned back to the main force and made several hand signals. Twenty men detached themselves from the group and came forward. He gestured for half of them to move forward and the other half, which were archers, to follow. He drew his sword, a prodigious blade nearly six inches wide at the pommel and over four feet long. A lesser man would have had to wield it with both hands. He led the men forward.
Rand glanced over his shoulder, catching Captain Hamil’s eye. The Captain nodded confirmation of their readiness to him, and he moved silently for
ward into the Narrows.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Megan came to with a start. She glanced around at her surroundings with a momentary feeling of panic, which passed as she quickly recognized her own chamber. It was dark outside, but the single candle burning on the nightstand was outshone by the light of the moon pouring in through the window. She raised her head and tried to prop herself up on her elbows. But one of her arms was bound. It had not been immediately apparent since someone had pulled her robe up over the shoulder. She felt a twinge in her right thigh as well. Now she remembered. She had been hit. She had failed! Snarling, she threw the cover off and got to her feet, her anger burning away her pain.
"Elves! Those thrice damned, sap-blooded bastards!" She swore.
"I will rip off their ears and feed them to the ogres." Her robe had fallen away from her right shoulder when she stood. It had been cut from neck to cuff to gain access to her wound. She untied her sash, finding it difficult to loosen the knot with just one hand. She then reached up with her left hand and pulled the robe off her shoulder letting it fall in folds around her feet. She stepped out of it and limped over to the wardrobe, noticing the bandage around her thigh. The limp made her even angrier. She began undoing the bindings on her arm and winced at the pain that moving it caused.
Megan reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a fresh black robe. It was made from a heavy velvet fabric. She turned back towards the bed and froze. Mortow was standing at her window gazing out, his back to her.
"I was beginning to think you would never realize I was here," he said not taking his eyes from whatever far away object he was contemplating.
Megan shrugged and winced when the pain shot through her shoulder.
"I was absorbed in planning my revenge." She paused, standing in a shaft of moonlight slanting in through the window. Would he turn and look at her? Probably not. He was too controlled to allow physical appearances to affect him. The Great One knows she had tried to catch his attention in subtle ways, in the past, without any luck. She knew most men found her alluring, but even standing naked in the same room was not garnering more than a passing notice from Mortow. She continued to stand in the light for a few seconds, her robe forgotten in her left hand. What did it take to move this man? The answer was simple. It was the same thing that moved her. Power. She could be the most beautiful woman on the face of Thelona, but without power, he would no more notice her than the stone beneath his feet. Megan shook her head slightly and pitched the robe up in the air. It hung suspended for a few seconds and then opened and descended over her upraised arms and head. Once it settled, she saw that Mortow had moved. He now stood only a few paces from her, her sash in his right hand. He moved towards her and wrapped the sash around her narrow waist. Watching him tie the sash, she felt incredibly small. He totally eclipsed the shaft of moonlight she had been standing in.
Giving the knot a final tug, Mortow straightened and looked down at her.
"I trust you are healing well?"
Megan could feel his deep voice reverberate within her chest, and the flickering candlelight gave his usually grave face an even more sinister look.
"I am sore, which is to be expected. But I will live, much to the elves’ regret," she stated flatly.
"What do you require of me, Master?"
Mortow chuckled, a sound reminiscent of distant thunder.
"That is what I like about you Megan, your ability to push away your feelings and get straight back to business. I have a task for you on the other world. Micah has obviously chosen to involve himself, and has clearly allied himself with Merric. His Avari are guarding The Slot. The Weres have been unable to get passed them. I feel we will have to deal with a large force of Avari in the near future."
"You have some way of neutralizing them, I assume. What do you need me to do?"
"Lord Micah," Mortow stressed the word with sarcasm, "has someone he cares for on the other world, a man he raised from infancy. I want you to go there and bring this man back to me. It is of the utmost importance that he be brought back alive. This man could provide a wedge against Micah and his Avari. Dead, he would provide a great fuel for Micah’s cause against us."
"Then I shall bring him to you alive and intact. There is no magic to speak of in the other world…now, so it should not be too difficult," Megan stated matter-of-factly.
"I am sure he will be guarded, and he will have been trained by Micah, so do not underestimate him. I can ill afford to lose a wizard at this stage of the game. I want you to take a small group of Weres with you, maybe twenty. Do not let them wander off, and make sure all are accounted for when you return. I want none left behind alive. The last thing we need is to gain the notice of people on the other world."
"I understand, Master. Any…special…instructions?" Megan asked with a sly smile.
"No. Leave everything as you find it. I want nothing done to provoke Micah. I want him worried and neutralized, not angry and vengeful," Mortow instructed her.
Megan’s smile faded in disappointment and she sighed.
"As you wish. So, where might I find this man?"
"I will give you the location, and a visual picture of the surrounding area and the man you are to bring back." Mortow raised his right hand and placed the palm lightly on Megan’s forehead. She closed her eyes. Megan felt tiny again. That hand could easily encompass her whole head.
"Ostendo meus visum," Mortow spoke softly.
Megan beheld the image of a large house set on manicured grounds surrounded by forest. A larger unadorned building sat off from it. An average sized man with dusty blonde hair and brown eyes could be seen standing on the front porch. She opened her eyes when Mortow removed his hand.
"That is the place where this man can be found?" she asked.
"Aye. I was able to punch through with the scrying basin for a brief time. That was all I could get though. The last time I tried, our young sorcerer was able to detect me. I do not know how, but he did. It is something I am going to have to ask him about in person," Mortow said contemplatively.
Mention of the sorcerer reminded Megan of her failure to bring him back and that, in turn, reminded her of being shot. Her face passed through a series of emotions; embarrassment, shame and then, finally, anger.
"I will not fail you again, Master!" she said vehemently.
"I will bring him back, alive."
Mortow reached out and slid a finger down her cheek, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I know you will, dear Megan, of that I have no doubt."
Megan felt a chill run through her body. She knew the price of failure. She was amazed that Mortow had not killed her already, but then again, wizards were currently a scarce commodity. She was, therefore, safe for the time being. She was a realist, however, and knew Mortow would be very displeased if she were to botch another mission.
Mortow saw the small tremor that ran through her body, and he smiled even more. He could almost see her thoughts written on her face, anger at herself, fear of him, determination to redeem herself in his eyes. She would bring this man back or die in the attempt. Although he preferred that she succeed, either was fine with him.
He had little tolerance for failure, and his students knew it. It was what drove them to succeed. The truth be told, Mortow expected some failures at this stage. They were facing formidable opposition, and he could not do everything himself. Thus, when you delegate tasks to others, you must expect some mistakes. He did not have to like it, but he had to live with it…for now. As satisfying as it would have been to simply reach out and crush her throat with his bare hand, her death would only bring a moment’s pleasure, whereas her drive to get back into his good graces could net him many results more advantageous to his ultimate goal.
Megan began to grow uncomfortable under that searing gaze. She felt as if she had narrowly escaped death somehow. She drew in a deep breath, refusing to draw away from his touch.
"When do you wish me to depart, Master
?"
"Right away. I want this man back here and in chains as quickly as possible. The sooner we have him, the sooner I can inform Micah of his options. I have already sent the Weres to the portal island. They await your arrival."
"Very well then. I will leave now, if that is all."
Mortow nodded. Megan spoke the words of transport and vanished from the room.
Mortow stretched his neck to the side, causing a series of loud popping sounds. He sighed. It was so trying being nice to people. It always seemed to leave him tense. Fortunately, he had more pleasant pursuits to attend. He smiled to himself as he thought of the ogres ravaging their way across Branna. King Brose would eventually have to leave his little roost to deal with them. That would make his other plans much easier to accomplish within Branna. With the King away, and the majority of his knights out chasing the ogres, BranninCastle would be ripe for the picking. Mortow spoke the words of transport and disappeared from the room, leaving behind the reverberation of a malevolent chuckle.
Megan materialized in the forest that surrounded the portal. She scanned the area around her and ahead. She knew she would never be able to see the elves if they were still here. It was slightly disconcerting how thoroughly they could camouflage themselves and hide in a forest. She reached out with her senses, trying to detect any signs of their presence. Nothing. She was vaguely disappointed. It would have been extremely gratifying to watch the life drain out of a couple them on her way through. Megan straightened her sash and started walking towards the portal ring. As she got closer, she could see several pairs of glowing, red eyes tracking her progress from the stone ring. The Weres were waiting for her as Mortow said they would be. She strode imperiously forward, between the standing ring of stones, not pausing until she reached the altar stone. She turned to face the Weres that gathered around her.
The Chronicles of the Myrkron: Book 01 - The Nine Keys of Magic Page 37
