The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm)

by Brian C. Hager

  The Third Great Alliance united the Southern Kingdoms and started just over fifty years ago. Apparently, the northerners and westerners had needed a long time to recover the losses they’d sustained during the last Alliance. This time, the northern and western armies sailed along the coast and landed at Celene, Darim, and Veldan. The Darim warships sank many of their vessels before they landed but were overwhelmed by sheer numbers, something the Alliance forces always managed to have.

  Once they landed, ground forces entered Ramen and Bordell, and a small distracting force moved into Tarquon. They seemed to have learned how to fight a multiple-front war, because five years into it the southerners thought they were finally defeated. That was when Dobry, young then and not yet crowned king, suggested a full alliance between the Southern Kingdoms, and together they pushed the invaders out three years later. However, the total death toll for all kingdoms involved, with most from the southern armies, reached just under a million. That seemed a large sum, but the second Alliance had claimed over four times that many lives, although most of those had been northern and western.

  The southern armies had always fought together, but they tended to guard their own lands first. None of them had ever followed the same leader, as Dobry suggested, or been willing to fight extensively for a kingdom other than their own. This alliance, though highly controversial, changed the ideals of the southern kings, and consequently they named Dobry their Overlord. Dobry’s father had been lost two weeks earlier in the great Battle of the Kings, which involved almost every king alive at the time, and it was he who initially taught them that together they could defeat anyone. Like a good son, Dobry followed in his father’s footsteps and proposed the alliance that freed the south from invasion.

  Thorne then went on to describe the lands he had mentioned in his stories of the wars. Celene, he said, was known for its merchants. It was said a Celenian merchant could haggle a king out of his crown and trade him his entire realm for two old mules, and still make the king think he’d gotten the better deal. He then talked of the mysterious lands that lay all the way across the Sea of Marin, named for the man who first navigated its waters. No one was really sure who or what lived in those lands across the sea.

  The dwarf spoke briefly about his home in the Kalt Mountains, and respectfully mentioned the elven forests in the south. He talked while they moved through the city, pausing only to haggle over some new item, the latest being a water-tight box of expensive medical supplies, then would resume his narration. The dwarf sparked Vaun’s imagination with the tales of these places, and the young traveler had an intense desire to see all of these lands, vowing silently that he would if given the chance.

  Late in the day, Thorne and Vaun stood close together in a crowd watching some street performers. Thorne suddenly snorted and coughed, looking roughly at Vaun. “Stones, lad, you smell like a pig!”

  Vaun’s face turned a deep shade of red as many people turned in his direction, and his voice lowered. “Not so loud. I already know, but you don’t have to inform the town of it. And you don’t smell much better yourself. I’ve been meaning to ask about a place to bathe.”

  Thorne nodded, smiling. “Aye, I’ve been wantin’ the same. But I got so caught up in the buyin’ and your questions that it slipped my mind. I, too, am of a mind to wash this travel dirt from my skin.” He gestured vaguely to the right. “Come, I know a place we may clean up.”

  They left the crowd of spectators and headed down a congested side street. Thorne took a definite lead in order to better guide his young friend, and Vaun found he didn’t have to shorten his strides much to keep up with the fleet-footed, though stout, dwarf.

  They entered the bathhouse, a low, squat building of only one floor sandwiched between two taller buildings, and paid the four silvers to enter. The woman in charge was an older, red-haired lady who looked to have been quite attractive when young; she still retained some of her previous beauty. She led the pair through a curtain in the far wall of the entrance room and down a long hallway smelling of dampness and soap to the back of the building. She told them where the towels and bathing stalls were and bid them a pleasant bath before waddling off.

  The place was fairly crowded, it being near the end of the day, and the two had some difficulty putting away their clothing and equipment in one of the many large storage cabinets. Vaun noticed two large men on opposite sides of the room eyeing each person walking through and guessed they were there to prevent bathers from taking things that didn’t belong to them. Landsby was not known for its thieves, but no one took chances. Vaun was glad for the precautions, for he’d be very upset if someone stole his Vaulka.

  A little embarrassed at being naked around so many people, the youth fought down the childish feeling. The best way to help himself adjust to this world was to mature his thinking and act more adult. He was, after all, old enough to help choose the leader of his country in his own world.

  Feeling better about himself, he followed Thorne out of the dressing area and into a large room with a pool of hot water dominating the floor. Steam rose off the water in such a thick curtain that it obscured vision and complicated breathing. Thorne told him they’d visit this room after they’d washed. The next room consisted of dozens of wood-sided stalls where patrons could bathe in privacy. These pools, like the large one, were sunk down into the floor, and had a bit less steam rising off of them, though Vaun could still feel their heat from where he stood.

  The water had been freshly poured and was almost too hot to enter. Vaun climbed in slowly to better let his body adjust, then sank into the soothing warmth with pleasure. The hot water and bathing refreshed him, drove away his aches and weariness, and diminished the chill that had begun to develop as the weather turned colder.

  Exiting the bathing pool, he went back to the other room and stepped down into water even hotter than his bath. It took his breath away when he first touched it, and it was several long minutes before he made it all the way into the pool.

  There were many other men in the pool, and Vaun regarded each one casually as they let the warmth relax them. Most were commoners seeking to wash the sweat and dirt of work from them and seemed to take little notice of him aside from a polite nod. A few travelers enjoyed the warmth of the bath with them, and they all crowded together at the opposite end.

  One was a tall, dark-haired man with a patch over his right eye. Vaun recognized him from The Prancing Horse. He talked quietly to his two companions—one a short, wiry fellow with greasy yellow hair and the other a fairly handsome, youthful man with dark red hair and beard. They seemed comfortable and easy-going today, so Vaun let his head sink back onto the rim of the tub and set his mind wandering.

  Thorne startled him to awareness several minutes later by jumping into the pool beside the youth, bringing laughter from the other occupants at the dwarf’s sporting. Thorne looked pleased at having surprised his companion and inquired as to his health. Vaun told him he was fine and went back to his wonderful daydream, but not before noticing the large number of scars Thorne had on his chest and back. Many were far too straight and close together to have come from combat. He also wondered why all his companions acted so thrilled when they caught him off guard. Laying his head back, he closed his eyes, content to simply relax and think as little as possible.

  The dwarf joined him in dozing in the hot water, and they both enjoyed pleasant visions while the weariness of travel oozed from their bodies.

  Thorne awoke Vaun from his doze this time by shaking him roughly. “Wake up, Vaun. You can no stay in here anymore. You know what happens if you stay in hot water too long, yes?”

  “No. What?” Vaun glanced around dazedly and noticed they were the only ones left in the room.

  “Don’t worry, lad, you’ll find out.”

  Vaun struggled out of the pool, his lax muscles not responding. “No, Thorne, tell me. What happens if you stay in hot water too long?”

  “You’ll find out.” The dwarf’s voice beca
me muffled as he turned a corner. He seemed to avoid Vaun’s question for some reason. “Let’s go. We’re wastin’ time.”

  Vaun hastened to catch up, his sleep-muddled senses jolted awake by the suddenly cold air. “Thorne! You have to tell me. What happens?”

  Thorne only shrugged and kept walking, hiding a smirk behind one hand. No matter how hard he tried, Vaun could get nothing out of the close-mouthed dwarf but a few chuckles. Frustrated, he gave up and hurried behind the sound of Thorne’s mocking voice.

  They crossed into another room where a different pool was sunk into the floor. Vaun tested the water and found it nearly freezing compared to the pool he’d just left. He hopped around on one foot until he was sure his toes wouldn’t crack if he set them down too hard. Reluctantly, he entered the water with Thorne and let the cold revive and awaken him from his lethargic mood. They left the pool, dried off with fresh towels, and went to dress. Though Vaun tried several times more, he still couldn’t get Thorne to say anything other than it didn’t matter now that he’d been in the cold pool.

  To his astonishment, Vaun found his clothing had been well cleaned and even repaired. Thorne told him it was one of the services provided by this bathhouse and that it explained the high price. After dressing and reclaiming their equipment, they left the bathhouse and went in search of their inn to meet the others over dinner.

  The sun had nearly set, and they hurried back so they could discuss the day with their friends. The streets were uncrowded, and the two enjoyed a swift walk toward the inn. The sun cast orange light over the faces of the few people still about and glinted harshly off the windows of the shops and houses. Vaun noticed while walking that the dwarf barely reached to his shoulder.

  Along the way, Vaun leaned down to Thorne. “Have you noticed we’re being followed?”

  Thorne nodded sharply. “Aye. I’ve seen ’em watchin’ us all day. You’ve a good eye, Vaun.”

  “Thanks, but I figured it out mostly because I recognized them from last night.”

  “Most people wouldn’t have remembered them. ’Tis a good ability to have. Be proud you do.”

  Vaun blushed at the dwarf’s comment and fought down the desire to contradict him. If Thorne believed he had such a trait, then maybe he did.

  The dwarf gestured toward a side alley. “Why don’t we find out who they are and what they want, since they seem so interested in us?”

  Vaun nodded. “Do you think they could be more of Elak’s men?”

  “’Tis possible, but we’ll find out soon enough. Come.” He took the lead as they entered the alleyway. “Just follow my lead and stay alert. There may be others about.” Thorne loosened his hammer in his belt as they walked further down the narrow street.

  They moved deeper into the alleys, passing warehouses and storage sheds as they turned corners seemingly at random. Thorne seemed to know his way around, so the young adventurer trusted him to lead them out once they were rid of the men following. He hoped they wouldn’t have to fight, for he wasn’t sure he could even if it meant getting killed. As they approached an intersection, he grew nervous. His senses told him something was about to happen.

  A man stepped suddenly from one side passage and stood barring their way with crossed arms. The two stopped, and seconds later they could hear footsteps behind them.

  They were trapped.

  7

  “I GUESS WE’RE ABOUT TO FIND OUT HOW GOOD YOU REALLY ARE with that thing on your back. I do so hate to fight after a nice bath.”

  The footsteps slowly became louder. Thorne wondered if he was about to find out why the youth’s sword fighting abilities were starting to frighten Drath and the others, as well as confirm what they were all beginning to suspect about the instability of his state of mind.

  Thorne estimated that at least three, maybe four men approached from behind, and this one in front most likely had companions down one or both side alleys. He couldn’t remember how many he’d seen together over the course of the day and doubted he’d seen them all. Thorne didn’t like the odds, but he was determined not to go down easily.

  The man in front puffed out his chest. “Who are you?” The fairly tall fellow with dark hair and a patch over his right eye carried a longsword at his left hip and seemed confident in his ability to handle the pair.

  The men behind the two companions had stopped less than ten feet away. Vaun and Thorne recognized the one-eyed man and guessed that his two accomplices were behind them.

  Thorne sighed with impatience. “Simple travelers takin’ a short cut to our inn. Nothin’ more.” The dwarf let his left hand drift toward his hammer and dipped his right shoulder slightly so he could more easily release the two bags he carried.

  * * *

  Vaun couldn’t move toward the sword on his back without attracting too much attention, so he simply eyed the man in front of him with what he hoped was a cold but intimidating look. He wished this weren’t happening, for he could sense these men wouldn’t let them go without a fight. That meant he might be forced to kill somebody again, not to mention he’d have to deal with that bizarre noise in his head. While it did at times help, lately it seemed only to interrupt what he was about to do. He swallowed against a lump in his throat and a funny, almost metallic taste in his mouth.

  “I doubt that.” The one-eyed man sneered. “Surely you know the alleys aren’t safe at this time of night, Little Man.”

  “Apparently so.” Thorne visibly fought the urge to attack the man.

  Vaun knew it would go easier for them with the town guard if they acted in self-defense.

  The man’s eye flashed in anger. “Tell me what yer doin’ here and where yer goin’. Now. Or you can suffer first and then tell me. You won’t be able to stand the pain, Runt.”

  Thorne disliked being insulted, especially by a dirty westerner. “Forget it!” His head turned slightly toward Vaun, and his voice lowered. “Get ready.”

  Vaun became terribly nervous then and wanted to tell Thorne of his vow not to attack first. Then he remembered he already had, so instead he concentrated on calming his pounding heart. He could feel sweat slick his palms but didn’t want to risk wiping them on his trousers for fear of making the man think he was about to attack, or that he was scared.

  After a couple more minutes of silence, their assailant’s stance shifted. “Fine, then. If you won’t do what I tell you, we’ll just ’ave to make you.” He drew his sword. “Seize them!” He barely got the words out before he charged forward.

  Thorne and Vaun acted simultaneously. The dwarf gripped the bag straps with his right hand and pulled his hammer free with his left. Twisting at the waist, he heaved the bags into the man’s face as he approached, then attacked with a fierce growl, striking hard with his hammer.

  The tall man had to jump to his right to avoid the flying bags, opening himself up to Thorne’s weapon. The dwarf swung low, seeking to smash his opponent’s knee.

  Expecting the strike, the man turned the jump into a spin, avoiding the main force of it, but the hammer still caught him in the calf of his right leg as he swung around. He stumbled backward into the wall of the building to his right, and Thorne pressed his advantage.

  Vaun reacted so swiftly and smoothly that the three men behind him stopped momentarily in astonishment. He spun clockwise, ducking low and drawing his sword with his right hand, while with his left he hurled his three bags at the men behind them. His movements seemed more fit for a dance than a desperate fight to stay alive.

  One attacker was hit in the face and knocked flat by the heavy bag. The other two sidestepped the other bags, then resumed their advance.

  Vaun assumed a low fighting crouch, his curved sword out and ready before him. That peculiar tingling returned as he regarded each attacker carefully, and that strange noise mumbled in the back of his head. He only barely felt surprised that he faced more men than he expected. He also noticed that strange taste had left his mouth.

  The two standing bore longswords, an
d one he recognized as the redhead from the bathhouse. The other was brown-haired with an ugly scar on his left cheek. Neither looked very friendly.

  Vaun cursed himself for not following the bags with a sword attack, but his vow wouldn’t have allowed it. The bags were a partial exception, since they had drawn steel first. He also fought the desire to turn and run, because he knew he didn’t have that choice. So he set himself for combat as the two assailants approached within sword range, his quick movement a moment ago making them cautious.

  Thorne deflected another cut at his head, driving his attacker’s sword over him and into the ground, where it scraped harshly in the hard dirt. The man was a capable fighter, but he’d obviously never fought a dwarf before. His strikes were all too high.

  The dwarf then followed with a head butt to the man’s stomach, knocking him back and forcing the air from his lungs. He leapt at the man, reversed his hammer, and sunk the spike deep into his chest.

  The one-eyed man’s mouth opened as pain hit him, and he fell backward off the spike and onto the ground. Thorne advanced to finish him but was struck senseless as a small, greasy-haired man hit him on the head as he stepped out of a side alley.

  The alley was wide enough for the two to attack together, forcing Vaun to backpedal to avoid being struck down. The redhead swung high toward Vaun’s right while the other cut low to his left.

  Lunging forward toward the lower attack, he blocked it one-handed and carried it over his head to his right. Grasping his sword hilt with both hands, he smashed both his own and his attacker’s weapons into the higher swing. The contact jarred all the way up the youth’s arms, but instead of disorienting him or disrupting his movements like it did during his last fight, it seemed to blend with that strange tingling in his arm.

  As his sword scraped along his opponents’ blades, he could almost tell that both weapons needed care. The redhead’s sword even seemed neglected, as if its owner barely kept it from rusting away.