Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2)

by Thomas Quinn Miller

  But, even this was better than them following the previous knight to the City of the Fallen and finding Ashar and Akira. Ashar and Akira…how had he let things go so horribly wrong?

  “You think of Ashar and Akira again, Magister,” Dowynn stated more than asked. He took a seat next to Dagbar. He knew Dagbar too well. He was a good man and Dagbar was lucky to have him as a member of his advising council and more importantly, as a friend.

  Dowynn was a sorcerer and had been Ashar's mentor. He was the closest thing to a parent Ashar and Akira had since their arrival at the Emporium all those years before. Dowynn took them into his home.

  Dagbar wished the Empire could see the benefit of working alongside humans. The idea to move their dinners from the great hall into Dagbar's private chambers and then replace his normal servants with members of his council had all been Dowynn's idea.

  Dowynn's justification for this ruse had served multiple purposes. First, to separate them from some of his more zealous followers. Dagbar had to agree, many of the Allwynians felt the time for change was now and he didn't need them dying in some attempt to instigate said change.

  Second, for Dagbar to attempt to upset Knight Justice Finngyr by questioning his beliefs privately. Some were more apt to do things in front of servants that they would never admit to doing, feeling justified to dismiss the word of a servant if ever challenged.

  If the knights knew these “servants” where his true Council of Elders, a mix of dwarves and humans, every one an Allwynian, well, Ashar and his betrayal would be the least of Dagbar's worries. Unfortunately, Finngyr seemed to be on best behavior and had never taken the bait.

  In truth, Dagbar expected Dowynn and the others were there to protect him should he succeed in his attempts more so than bear credible witness.

  “You cannot continue to blame yourself for what happened to Akira, Dagbar,” Dowynn said, interrupting Dagbar's thoughts.

  Dagbar waved his hands to stop the man from once again trying to relieve Dagbar of his guilt. He had heard all his logic before, it still did nothing to lift the burden Dagbar placed on his own shoulders. Akira. She had been such a lovely young girl and the All Mother knew what Ashar had done to her in his attempts to try and save her. There was no waking from the Elixir of the Sleeping Death. At least Ashar knew who to blame for her condition, in that regard. In that, Dagbar and Ashar found common ground.

  “I know, my friend, I know,” Dagbar said. “We all know what will happen to Akira, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. But enough, all our talk will not change things. To the matter at hand. We can only hope we have bought Robon enough time to find this Ghile Stonechosen and bring him here.”

  “Are we sure it is him?” Ulbert said.

  Dagbar nodded. “Yes. Those that arrived today match the description Master Almoriz sent me.” Dagbar still shuddered from the experience. It was such an uncomfortable feeling to have the old sorcerer's voice suddenly there in his ear. Dowynn called it wind whispering and it had something to do with the element of air, but Dagbar just called it creepy, like a voice from beyond the grave.

  “And once Dobon sneaks him into the Bastion?” Dowynn said.

  “Well, I had hoped for some time to size him up for myself,” Dagbar said.

  “You still intend to go against Mother Brambles in this, Dagbar? Even with two of her druids and their shieldwardens in the Emporium?” Dowynn said.

  “I do,” Dagbar said. “And if you had spoken with the Goddess Islmur, as I did, you would not keep asking me the same question every other day!”

  Ulbert snorted. “Well, Ashar's abominations have seen that none of us get that chance again”.

  “Calm yourself, Dagbar. Remember, we all risk much. The sorcerers are aligned with the druids and in following you, I betray them,” Dowynn said.

  “We follow you in this. For better or for worse,” Ulbert said.

  Dagbar could only nod. How he wished the others had been there in the Deepwood with him. Seen her and heard her words. Everything he had believed, had worked so hard for all those years had changed in an instant. If only he could have convinced Mother Brambles and the others. If only they would have listened.

  Now when he was so close, everything seemed to be converging to pull it all down. The first culler had not accepted Dagbar's excuses for removing the golems from the City of the Fallen and gone there to see the effects himself. Dagbar had done it to ease Ashar's many journeys to the forbidden city, of course. The culler did not return.

  Mother Bramble's sent Patron Sister Bochand and her shieldwarden to remind him of his place in things and to make sure he stayed true to her plan. That was bad enough, but then three more cullers arrived.

  Ashar seemed bent on punishing Dagbar and everything he had built to protect those under his care, dwarf and human alike. Ashar had somehow infected humans, goblins and vargan with something that turned them into murderous savages and in so doing had all but severed Dagbar's communications with the Alvar. Even the blue mark, once a guarantee of safe passage in the Deepwood no longer offered protection.

  He had to do his best to protect this new stonechosen from the cullers, protect him from the druids, and hope he could convince the boy that in completing the Soulstone Prophecy he would be bringing about the end of the human race.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Enter,” Dagbar said.

  Young Billy, one of his real servants peeked through the door hesitantly, no doubt fearing the cullers were still present. “Magister, Daughter Bosand wishes an audience.”

  Dagbar motioned for Billy to show her in. Her timing could not have been any worse. A coincidence? How much did she already know? Her presence was going to greatly complicate matters. Dagbar was not yet ready to reveal his hand.

  Ulbert waited for the door to close before giving another one of his meaning filled snorts.

  “So now what?” Ulbert said.

  “So now we wait and pray for the All Mother's own luck,” Dagbar said.

  Right now, he needed all the luck he could get.

  22

  Sacrifice

  Gaidel watched Riff make his way to their table. He slid past the many patrons in the common room of the Happy Trader, the clouds of pipe smoke as diverse as those who created it.

  She smiled as Riff tried to clear the air before him with a frantically waved hand. She rather enjoyed the smell, it reminded her of the Three Arrows and home.

  “By Daomur's hairy backside, that woman had more metal needing mending than all the Cradle combined,” Riff said, following his words with an exaggerated exhale of breath.

  He dropped down on the bench next to Lotte, flinging an empty pouch on the table. “I'm completely out of source. And her roving hands, don't even get me started on her hands!”

  Riff stared at them for a moment. “I'm fine, thanks for asking.”

  He reached for the pitcher in front of Two Elks, but quickly withdrew his hand at the stare he received from the barbarian, instead settling for the pitcher Gaidel slid towards him. Two Elks had long since laid claim to the strong dwarven stout, or “dark drink” as he named it.

  “Your head will thank me in the morning,” Gaidel said when Riff skeptically eyed the contents. The paler human-made beer she and Lotte were sharing was more than a little watered down.

  “Well,” Riff said, taking a drink and frowning. “Our place here at the Happy Trader is secured. No need to thank me, it was my pleasure to slave away in the kitchens and suffer the attentions of our handsy hostess while all of you relaxed in the common room. The little coin I received from the moneylender at the gate would not have paid for our drink, let alone lodging.”

  Lotte clapped and went as far to pat Riff on the back before quaffing down the last of his cup's contents.

  Riff gave an amused smirk and raised an eyebrow at Gaidel.

  She could only shrug. Who could blame him? The boy had been through much in the last couple of days.

  Lotte reache
d under the table to scratch Ast and Cuz. He had become fond of the two valehounds, and they him. There was something about the bond between boys and dogs. She took the opportunity to slide his cup away from him. No need letting him get too carried away.

  “They got off cheap,” Riff continued. “I'm doing this place a favor. Apparently, the only other sorcerer in this settlement has been holed up in the bastion and no one has seen his apprentice in months. Though, this is the best human inn from what I could discover.”

  The Happy Trader was easily the largest human owned inn in Dagbar's Freehold. Her father would have been impressed. The entire Three Arrows would have easily fit inside the Happy Trader's common room.

  Sitting just outside one of the four entrances to the trade market, the inn was impossible to miss, and where the moneylender had directed Riff when he inquired where a sorcerer and his young apprentice should seek lodging. Gaidel was thankful the inn was not on the market square itself, she didn't want to draw any more attention than was necessary and she knew she would have had to explain herself to the four guards stationed where the road spilled into the market.

  Gaidel hated to admit it had been Riff's idea to enter the Freehold separately and pass himself off as Master Almoriz and Lotte as Riff, his young apprentice. Dwarven law allowed druids and sorcerers to travel outside the settlements, but any other humans found outside a settlement were at the mercy of their captor. She hadn't even considered Lotte. Luckily, Riff's small display of magic had been enough for the gate guards to let the two pass. It was a good idea.

  She hadn't thought about food or lodging when she and Two Elks first entered the Freehold either, let alone how they would pay for it. Staying in such a large settlement just wasn't something she knew anything about.

  At first, she had tried to retake the reins and inquired about other places to stay, but all of her inquiries resulted in her being directed towards the Bastion. Even the proprietor of the Happy Trader, a buxom middle aged woman named Mistress Jolyn, had first refused to house Gaidel and Two Elks, saying the Bastion was the only proper place for a Sister and her Shieldwarden. It was Riff's sorcerous talents that finally swayed Mistress Jolyn to relent. Well, that and her obvious attraction to him. She was easily twice Riff's age. It was improper. Gaidel had taken an instant dislike to the woman.

  She watched Riff over her cup as he ladled food onto his plate. He still annoyed her beyond measure, but she had to admit he was more than proving his worth in the Freehold. A thought came to her and she raised her cup.

  “To Riff. Thank you.”

  Riff locked eyes with her and froze, his food laden fork only halfway to his mouth. He looked left and right as if expecting a trap. Seeing none, he replied with more than a little trepidation. “Your welcome?”

  Two Elks lifted his cup while Lotte searched for his. Gaidel hid her smile with her raised cup. She was sincere in her thanks, but it gave her no small amount of satisfaction to see Riff's discomfort. He was somewhat attractive when he wasn't so sure of himself.

  She froze. What was that? Attractive? She looked down at her almost empty cup. Maybe the beer was not as watered down as she thought. Gaidel set the cup down and took a moment to clear her head.

  “So, what is the plan?” Riff asked between spoonfuls.

  “Hmm? Ah, yes. I want to get a feel for the place before we approach the Bastion,” Gaidel said. She casually slapped Lotte's hand without looking when he made a grab for his cup.

  “The storm will stay for days,” Two Elks said. “Keep many inside.”

  The weather turned as they approached the gatehouse to the Freehold and the small drizzle became a solid sheet by the time they reached the inn. Many of the more recent arrivals to the inn were soaked and congregating near the inn's two enormous hearths. On opposite walls, both were large enough for a tall man to stand in upright. Steam rose from wet heads and damp shoulders to mingle with the pipe smoke. It would seem the winters here were as cold as in the Cradle.

  Riff nodded in understanding. “Won't be as easy to blend in. What if we stain our faces? Half the folk here, dwarf and human, seem to be doing it.”

  Gaidel shook her head before he finished. “We shouldn't. That is how they identify themselves as Allwynians here. The stain is similar to my own markings. You would not find it so easy to take off once applied. Besides, marking yourself for the All Mother is not something to do idly.”

  Two Elks nodded gravely. Gaidel knew his people not only took trophies from those they defeated in battle, but displayed battle scars and tribal markings with honor. He would never have agreed to try and disguise himself that way.

  Riff raised both hands. “Just an idea.”

  Gaidel looked about the room and then leaned in and motioned to four young dwarves who sat at a corner table gambling with two humans. Each of them wore a veil across their face which hid everything below their eyes.

  “What about those veils?” Gaidel said.

  “Won't work,” Riff said. “I've seen that back in Lakeside. It is what young dwarves do when they want to go out among the lowly humans and live it up a little.”

  He elaborated when he noted their confused looks. “Dwarves have their own Public Halls, big long buildings, no humans allowed. Boring places with serving dwarves standing along the walls and the proprietor sitting on a platform at one end making sure everyone remembers their a dwarf. All you can hear is grumbling and belching,” Riff said.

  Lotte's eyes were as round as wagon wheels. “How did you see inside?”

  “What? Oh, Master Almoriz was brought into a kitchen of one once to do some work for the cook. Apparently, the dwarven smith was overcharging or some such. I snuck a peak when no one was looking.”

  Somewhere across the common room someone shouted out, “To Dagbar!” It was quickly returned in a storm of tapping cups and cheers. Somehow Lotte had reacquired his cup and filled it because he raised it with the rest and followed with a drink.

  Gaidel focused her stare on him and he shriveled.

  “Well, them all keeps a'doin it,” Lotte said.

  “It is because of the food and shelter,” Riff said. “Mistress Jolyn was telling me about it. The Dead Ones have been attacking here, too. It's what drove everyone into the Freehold. People are afraid to return home and tend the crops. Those who didn't flee are now dead ones themselves. Many of these people are foresters and the timber trade has completely stopped.”

  “Instead of forcing them back out, Dagbar has been having food brought in from throughout the Empire and paying for it himself. They love him for it,” Riff said.

  “Here is another interesting thing. She said he is marked by the All Mother. Apparently, his eyes are blue and white, like all these Allwynians' faces. I figured they were staining their faces because of him,” Riff said.

  “They should not cower behind dwarf wall. They should fight for land and food,” Two Elks said.

  Both Gaidel and Riff looked at the barbarian and then their eyes met. She could see her feelings echoed in Riff's. They had saved Ollin together. The Dead Ones had no control of themselves. No one deserved such a fate. She didn't know what was happening in the Deepwood to make them like that, she wanted to find out and help them if she could.

  A voice in her head reminded her she had been ordered to stay with Ghile and keep him safe. But what if they didn't find him? What if Dagbar couldn't help? Should she stay here and try to help these people? It was a worthy cause. Somehow she knew Riff would stay too, if she asked.

  “Many pardons, you are Daughter Gaidel?”

  Two Elks was up and staring down at the man before Gaidel could respond. The man was older, with wet shaggy hair over a half blue stained face. Unlike his unkempt hair, his mustache and goatee were well trimmed and his robes and cloak, though thoroughly soaked, were clean. He continued to look at her and ignore Two Elks. He was unarmed and if he felt at all threatened, he didn't show it.

  She noticed Riff's hands as they slid off the table and rest
ed near his pouches. They had only arrived and could not afford any trouble.

  “Do I know you?” Gaidel said.

  The man placed the fingertips of both hands on his lips and then his heart before spreading his arms out wide. “You do not. I am Dobon, attendant to Magister Dagbar. He was informed of your journey by Master Almoriz. When news of your arrival reached him, he sent me to invite the young man you escort to the Bastion.” His accent marked him as a local.

  Dobon looked about the table and finally settled his gaze on Lotte. “Is this him?” There was almost a hopeful reverence to his voice.

  Gaidel noticed more than a couple of faces turned their way and motioned for both Two Elks and Dobon to sit. As they did so, she asked Riff what Dobon meant by Magister Dagbar being informed.

  “Wind whispering, I would imagine,” Riff said. “It uses air as the source. It's not easy to do over great distances either.” Riff leaned closer over the table. “But that means Master Almoriz and this Dagbar have met before. You need to have seen and touched the person you are trying to speak to.”

  She looked from Dobon to Riff, temporarily distracted. Why hadn't Riff mentioned this before? “Why haven't you used this to try and contact Ghile?” Gaidel said.

  “Hey, don't even,” Riff said. “I thought about it for all of a second. I'd be lucky to reach someone across the street. It uses the air inside of you as the source. I like being able to breathe.”

  Two Elks cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

  “He is not with you?” Dobon said.

  “No,” Riff said.

  The man closed his eyes, visibly resigning himself to the news. “I must go and so should you.” He started to rise.

  The bond between a druid and her shieldwarden had many benefits. Though they couldn't see into each other's mind and know their thoughts, the ability to sense emotion in the other was strong and she had no more registered Dobon's words than Two Elks reached out across the table and locked a hand on the man's shoulder. Dobon tried to continue to rise but was easily lowered back onto the bench.