by F. P. Spirit
Aksel smiled. “For now, we continue with the caravan to Ravenford. After all, at least one of us is getting paid.”
Seth’s face took on an innocent expression. “Does this mean that Lloyd has to split his fee with us?”
Glo and Aksel exchanged glances. They both looked at Seth and then at Lloyd, not sure what to say.
Lloyd’s expression was unreadable at first, but then he burst out laughing. “O…kay,” he said when he could finally get the words out. “I can see who is going to be the treasurer of this little group!”
“Seth? Treasurer?” Glo shook his head in disbelief. “Isn’t that like giving the wolf the key to the barn?”
Seth shot him a dirty look, but then saw the thin smile on Glo’s lips. “Very funny.”
The corners of Aksel mouth upturned. “If his money handling is as good as his cooking, then we better just bury our money in a hole and call it good.”
Lloyd, Glo, and Aksel all burst into laughter. Seth just shook his head.
As the merriment died down, Reise rejoined them. “We’ve finished gathering our comrades’ bodies and have stowed them in the wagons.”
Aksel stood up, sobering at once. “Very good. I will go and perform last rites over them.” The little cleric left to perform his somber duties.
Reise’s face still looked disturbed. “Anyway, we can move out whenever Cleric Aksel is done. If we leave soon, we can be in Ravenford by nightfall.”
Lloyd went to gather his things, while Seth and Glo headed back to their wagon. As they strode along, Glo dropped his voice to a whisper. “So, when were you going to tell us you were some kind of assassin?”
Seth stared up at him with a dark expression. “Seriously? The proper term is ninja. And the art of Ninjutsu is about surprise and deception. It is not a topic for idle conversation.”
Glo was taken aback by Seth’s vehement response. The combination of stealth, speed, dexterity, and knife handling made Glo think of an assassin. Add to the fact that Seth dressed mostly in black. Glo did not mean to offend his friend, but now realized that the label had some pretty negative connotations.
“My apologies, my friend. What I should have said is that I am greatly impressed by your prowess. Lloyd was right. You had all our backs covered in that fight. I am not certain we would have survived it without you.”
Seth responded in a flat tone. “Thank you.” A smirk then crossed his lips. “You weren’t so bad yourself. Now we just need to get you over your stage fright.”
Glo shook his head and smiled. A short while later, Aksel rejoined them. Seth climbed up onto the wagon and took his original seat. “Treasurer,” he murmured, “I think I like the sound of that.”
Aksel and Glo exchanged glances and grinned.
The Road to Ravenford
The entire western sky appeared on fire
The caravan continued east along the road and quickly exited the dense forest. It was late in the day, but the sun still shone bright in the sky behind them, hovering over the dark green trees of the Bendenwoods. The forest spread behind them as far north and south as the eye could fathom. The black heights of the Korlokesel Mountains rose up on the western horizon then curved to the north, winding around the woods like a gigantic dark serpent.
Grasslands stretched out before them, the road unraveling across those plains and fading into a thin ribbon before completely disappearing off in the distance. Sporadic groups of trees sprung up here and there, but none were the size of the woods they just left. A range of rolling, tree-covered hills appeared to the north. These were known as the Vogels and would parallel their path eastward all the way to the sea. The grasslands stretched to the southern horizon, although a glimpse of a wide flowing river was viewable at times. This river, the West Raven, also paralleled the east road but eventually combined with the Berribrun just west of Ravenford. From there, the Raven River flowed through the center of town and emptied into Merchant Bay, a huge body of water that opened out to the sea beyond.
The first signs of dusk appeared in the east as the small wagon train wound its way along the open road. Glo sat in the driver’s seat of the third wagon, firmly holding onto the reins, silently wondering how he had ended up in this position. He distinctly remembered admiring Lloyd’s horse, a white and brown spotted paint, and the two of them talking about horses in general. What followed afterwards was still vague in his mind. Their wagon driver had asked him about horses. He had said something about the lead driver dying, and before Glo knew it, the old man handed him the reins. Glo told them this was a big mistake, but between encouragement from Aksel and Seth and Lloyd’s promise to ride beside them, he finally gave in. Secretly, he thought that Seth only agreed to it so he could watch Glo make an idiot out of himself.
As it turned out, there was very little to worry about; the road was surprisingly smooth, and the single set of reins managed the team of horses nicely. Glo settled comfortably into his new position with Aksel and Seth on the front seat next to him. As promised, Lloyd rode alongside. Glo glanced at the young warrior. He made an imposing figure, the sun gleaming off his red leather armor giving it a crimson sheen. Yet, despite his intimidating size, Lloyd was rather low-key outside of battle. He rode along quietly, listening to stories about their homelands and the lands to the west. At the moment, Glo was describing his home city.
“Cairthrellon lies many miles west of here, in the great forest of Ruanaiaith. But unlike other cities, Cairthrellon is a part of the forest—alive, beautiful, and ever changing.”
Lloyd gave him a puzzled look. “How is that possible?”
Glo paused a moment, searching for the right words. When he began again, his voice was filled with passion.
“Imagine walking through the forest and finding cascading waterfalls, secret glades, green shaded arbors, and grottos as sad quiet music plays across the moonlit meadows. As you continue to wander, you come across unexpected beautiful statues, enchanted thickets, and sparkling fountains that seem to spring randomly from otherwise placid ponds. You can hardly see the houses as they meld into the landscape, and in the center of all of this you find a keep of translucent quartz that changes colors with the seasons...”
The elf’s voice caught, a hint of moisture in his eyes.
Lloyd’s face softened, stirred by the elf’s description of his home. “It sounds beautiful, Glolindir. If I may ask, why did you leave?”
Glo wasn’t sure how to answer. It was a complicated situation. His people were a stubborn lot, and they didn’t care much for non-elves, but he did not want to tell his new friends that. They reached a curve in the road, and Glo used the excuse to delay his answer. Once they made it around the bend, he responded.
“Let’s just say I had a difference of opinion with my father. Had I stayed at home, I would never be able to use magic like I do now.”
“You mean freezing up at crucial moments?”
Glo spun around and glared at Seth. The halfling wore a wicked grin. Aksel, in-between the two, coughed violently into his hand.
“I think I understand,” Lloyd said behind him.
Glo gave the halfling one last dark look, then swung back to face the young warrior. Lloyd’s expression was one of sympathy.
“If I had stayed in Penwick, there wouldn’t have been anything near the fun we just had.”
Seth’s mouth half twisted. “You’ve got a strange idea of fun there, Lloyd.”
Lloyd broke out into a grin. “Yes, maybe I do, but you have to understand; I am a martial adept of the sword. We live for battle.”
“I think the keyword there is live. That doesn’t always go well with battle,” Aksel noted.
Lloyd threw back his head and laughed. “Very true, master cleric; my sister would often say the same thing.”
The foursome fell silent. Lloyd took a few minutes to sca
n the road ahead, but all remained still. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he soon rejoined them. “So what about you, friend Aksel? What is your home like?”
Aksel seemed taken off-guard by the question. “Caprizon? Well it’s certainly not alive like some folks’ homes.” He cast a sidelong glance at Glo.
Glo brushed off the front of his cloak with an impish grin. “We can’t all live in style.”
A brief smile crossed Aksel’s lips. “Touché. Anyway, it is a bit different. There’s a tall ravine where the Stilwyndle River empties into the Sea of Riazel. Caprizon is built into the cliff-sides of that canyon.”
Lloyd appeared baffled. “So then how do you get around?”
“There are ladders—lots and lots of ladders. And there are cable cars, both up the sides of the cliffs, as well as across the canyon.”
Lloyd appeared impressed. “That sounds like fun!” His horse seemed to agree, choosing that moment to whinny, tossing its head up and down.
Aksel’s expression seemed distant, as if lost in thoughts of home. “It can be. I have to admit, living on flat land like all of you took some getting used to.”
A short laugh escaped Seth’s lips. “That’s because the rest of us are normal.”
Aksel spun toward their halfling companion. “Really? Then why don’t you tell him about the great city of Ilos?”
Seth’s face took on a dark expression, his body bristling. “Because there’s not much to tell.”
Lloyd interrupted the duo. “Ilos? Isn’t that way up north?”
Seth cast Aksel a dirty look, then turned to face Lloyd. “Yeah, it’s pretty much a run of the mill city. Not part of the forest and not hanging at all crazy angles on the sides of a cliff.”
“Except that it’s all made of stone,” Glo added.
Lloyd looked impressed. “The whole city?”
Seth nodded. “Pretty much.” He appeared quite uncomfortable talking about his hometown. It was something Glo had noticed since he first met Seth a month ago.
Lloyd’s curiosity had been piqued. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Let’s just say they got tired of rebuilding it every time it got burnt down.”
“Invaders?” Lloyd’s voice took on a slight edge.
“Parthians.” Seth almost spat the word.
“Parthians.” Lloyd’s grip on his reins tightened. “They did the same thing to Penwick during the Second Parthian War.”
“They burned the whole city?” Seth asked softly. There was an uncharacteristic trace of sympathy in his voice.
Lloyd’s face turned red with anger. “More than half of it. Once the Parthians were defeated, the town was rebuilt; but then came the Golem Thrall Master and his stone armies. Penwick was overrun, and a large section of the city was burnt to the ground.”
As if to emphasize his words, a strange reddish glow flared up behind them. It cast long crimson shadows on the road ahead. Glo and Lloyd both turned in their seats, and Aksel and Seth stood up to look over the top of the covered wagon.
The sun had almost set behind the Korlokesels, with only the top of the disc still visible, and that had turned a flaming red. The rays fanned out and lit up the clouds above—the entire western sky appeared on fire. The timing was eerie, as if the sun god Arenor himself acknowledged the tragedy that had befallen Penwick.
Glo tried to imagine what he would do if his home had been burnt down. It was a very real threat when one lived in the forest as the elves did. Thankfully, the trees were enchanted with spells to resist burning, but magic could only do so much. Not knowing what else to say, Glo spoke with as much sympathy as he could muster. “Your people must have been devastated.”
Lloyd was still staring at the sunset, his face awed by the raw display of nature. When he spun back around, there was a grin across his brash young face. “We’re a resilient people.”
It was good to see him smile, but then, just as abruptly, his expression darkened. “The worst of it was when the Warlord Eboneye raided us. That was only twenty years ago.”
The young man closed his eyes and took a deep breath; the muscles in his face relaxing. Glo glanced at Seth and Aksel, wondering if they knew anything about this Eboneye, but the two of them merely shrugged.
“Previous invaders occupied the city—but not Eboneye. His men were bent on looting and pillaging with no concern for who they killed or what they destroyed. We had no choice but to fight back. The army had been routed, but a resistance was formed. They fought a slow, pitched battle against the pirate forces and eventually won back the city, but it took months.”
Lloyd’s face was now ashen. “Most of Penwick was leveled…but worse than that, nearly half the population died. When it was over, there were so many corpses that they could not all be buried. The bodies had to be burnt to avoid spreading disease.”
Lloyd was so upset that his voice cracked. He turned his head away, his fists clenched tightly on the reins of his horse. Glo looked from Seth to Aksel and saw the horror mirrored in their expressions. He felt he should say something to Lloyd, some words of understanding, but the words would not come.
The sun had finally set behind them, darkness overtaking the countryside, creating pockets of shadows underneath the trees. Seth stood up and lit a lamp that hung off an iron hook welded onto the upper frame of the wagon. Once lit, the lantern illuminated the road in front of them with a warm glow.
Glo glanced at Lloyd. His face was hard to see, but he appeared to be lost in his thoughts. “So…what’s Penwick like today?” he asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
Lloyd didn’t answer at first. Finally he replied in a quiet voice. “Today? It has been mostly rebuilt.”
Lloyd began describing the current condition of his home: the tall buildings, the great bridges, the public gardens, and the large temple dedicated to the god Arenor. As he spoke he became more and more animated. “…and there are sections of the city that rival the great capital of Lymeridia.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Aksel said wistfully.
The young man gave an enthusiastic nod. “It is. The Barony of Penwick stands strong and proud these days; its influence reaches as far north as the city of Lukescros and as far south as the town of Haggentree. And at sea, the Penwick navy is unmatched along the coast. Our ships patrol from Colossus Point to Southpoint and are avoided and feared by even the vessels of the ‘great’ city of Dunwynn.”
Lloyd now sat straight in his saddle, all traces of grief gone. Glo was glad to see the young man back to normal. He was also quite impressed with the fighting spirit of the people of Penwick. Glo glanced at Aksel and Seth. The former bore a look of admiration, while the latter wore his usual smirk.
Seth was the first to comment. “That’s quite a tale. So what exactly happened to this Eboneye?”
Lloyd’s answer was quite zealous. “Don’t worry—he got exactly what he deserved. The Lord Kratos Stealle saw to that. Of course, he wasn’t a Lord back then, but he was a spiritblade—First Blade in the resistance. After the last big battle with the pirates, Eboneye tried to escape. Lord Stealle followed him to his ship, and defeated him in one on one combat. The ship went down in the harbor, and the pirate warlord was never seen again.”
Aksel sounded impressed. “This Lord Stealle was quite the hero.”
Lloyd cleared his throat, appearing quite uncomfortable. “Yes. He’s actually Admiral of the Penwick Navy these days.”
Glo pulled the reins as they came to another curve in the road. “With someone like that around, I doubt Penwick has much to fear from anyone.”
“Amen to that!” Lloyd patted his horse.
The conversation turned to lighter topics. The night had turned pitch dark, the moon not quite up yet. Lloyd galloped to the front of the caravan and scouted the area ahead. As it turned out, the rest of their jou
rney was uneventful. A couple of hours later, the wagon train finally reached its destination, the seaport town of Ravenford.
The Charging Minotaur
May the leaves of your life tree never turn brown
By the time the caravan reached the town, it was late in the evening. The first signs of civilization were evidenced by the light of an occasional farmhouse along the roadway. As they continued eastward, the farms appeared more frequently, until they finally entered a tended orchard. When the caravan exited the grove, the travelers caught their first view of Ravenford. The foliage on both sides of them parted and the town lay sprawled before them, houses lit up and twinkling. On a hilltop to their left stood a castle, the keep’s windows ablaze, lighting up the citadel. The castle walls were lined with torches, the shadows of the occasional patrol of guards visible along the parapets.
The town itself spread away from them, down to the river and across the other side. A pair of well-lit stone bridges spanned the river, and a few docks jutted out from the opposite shore. Various-sized vessels stood moored at those docks, their silhouettes casting dark shadows on the banks behind them. The rest of the town continued south from there. The lights stretched on for some distance, and farther back, a hill rose up, crowned with what appeared to be a temple. The eastern edge of the town stood upon the shores of Merchant Bay, those calm, clear waters almost mirror-like as they spread to the far horizon. The moon had just risen, its silver light splitting the waters of the bay like some giant knife that reached from the eastern skyline all the way to the shores of the sleepy little seaport town.
A small guardhouse stood alongside the road just outside of town. The guards briefly stopped the wagoneers, but on recognizing them, let the caravan through. Glo noticed strange looks from the guards as their wagon passed. Once out of earshot, Seth turned to his friends. “These people need to get out more. You think they’d never seen an elf, gnome, or halfling.”
The caravan stopped in front of a group of buildings at the foot of the hill from the keep. There were a number of signs here: Fine Food & Drink, Mason, Leather Goods, and Wine and Ale. This late in the evening most of the shops were closed. The food store was still lit up, and as they pulled up, an older gentleman came out to greet them.
