The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour

by Martin Hengst

  Wynn sighed. The coming dawn was beginning to chase night’s shadows from the ceiling. If he didn’t sleep now, it was going to be a very, very long day. He rolled over, willing his tumbled mind to settle, and tried to fall asleep.

  * * *

  The lower city was crowded during the day, but not nearly as packed as it had been the previous night. Faxon, upon returning from the meeting he wouldn’t talk about, had told them they were in for a special treat. They were going to the warehouse, he said, and no prodding would get him to give up any more detail. He seemed to be in a good enough mood though, so Tiadaria and Wynn opted to leave it alone.

  Faxon seemed to know his way around the lower city quite well, a fact that Tia would remember to ask him about later. He navigated with the ease of a local. He didn’t get turned around in the various blind alleys and false roads they often encountered. Faxon lead them down wide roads and smaller byways and they finally emerged at the edge of a wide but slowly moving river.

  Boats of every shape and size floated on the gently moving body of water. There were tiny little skiffs and massive trading vessels with three and four masts. Tiadaria was delighted. She had heard stories of great sailing ships and had sometimes seen them from afar on her duties in Dragonfell, but she had never been so close to them. She was happy to discover that Wynn was just as enamored with the boats as she was. He grabbed Tia’s hand and pulled her to the rope guarded pylons at the edge of the street, pointing at the ships with the brightest and most outlandishly colored sails.

  Faxon joined them and Tia was pleased to see that he was smiling as well. This was the Faxon she was used to being around. The Faxon who was almost, but not quite, as good a mentor as the Captain had been. She reached for her collar, wondering if Royce would have enjoyed the floating chaos on the river as much as they did. He would have, she decided. If for no other reason than the fact that she found it so fascinating.

  “There’s more to see, let’s go.” The elder quintessentialist set off down the narrow lane. It was lined with squat buildings on the left and the rope strung pilings on the right. Tia watched as gray birds wheeled and dove along the river, disappearing from view for a moment at impact and then climbing back up on powerful wings with tiny fish clutched in their beaks. She breathed deeply, relishing the crispness of the air and that fresh smell that only comes from a large body of water.

  They turned a corner and were faced with a long building crouched at the edge of a busy wharf. The building was an enormous gray brick structure, two stories tall and easily as long as the main trade road in King’s Reach. Thick wood planks made up the roof and large windows were set into the upper floor. A massive set of doors, wide enough for two wagons to drive in abreast, were set on tracks that extended across the front of the building. The doors were pushed open to their full width allowing one to glimpse at the madness inside. People dashed to and fro, some laden with parcels, others moving flat trollies full of goods. The words Gunther’s Warehouse were stenciled over the door in peeling black paint.

  As Faxon led them inside, Tiadaria could understand the need for so many windows. The light that shone in from them illuminated a vast space packed floor to ceiling with every type of good imaginable. There were pallets of flour sacks, barrels of ale, and bins of sweets. One entire section of wall was dedicated to hanks of rope of every length and diameter imaginable. Sailcloth hung in billowing folds from the highest rafters. There were weapons racks and cages of squawking birds and tiny chattering animals.

  One particular display caught her eye. It was behind a long counter, mounted high up on the wall. Crafted from gold gilded glass, it contained a selection of dwarven hand cannons and one large, long barreled cannon. Tia had been so immersed in the wonder of the place that she had nearly lost track of Faxon and Wynn. She hastily weaved her way through the crowd, catching up with them just as Faxon approached the counter. A dwarf was perched on a crate behind the counter, bringing him level with Faxon’s line of sight.

  The dwarf was a swarthy little man with a pock-marked face. His bulbous red nose extended out over a great bushy black beard and black eyes glittered beneath his fuzzy eyebrows. He had a battered digger's helmet crammed onto his head, its sides much scratched and dented. When he saw Faxon, his eyes lit up and a broad smile crept across his face. He leaned over the counter and took Faxon’s hand, pumping it up and down with both of his.

  “Faxon, it’s good to see ye, lad. It’s been a long time, it has.” He peered at Wynn, then turned his shrewd gaze on Tia. She felt the weight of his gaze at the base of her spine, then the feeling passed and she shrugged it off. “I see ye brought friends to old Gunther’s Warehouse.”

  “Gunther, this is Wynn, and Tiadaria.” Faxon nodded to each of them. Gunther shook Wynn’s hand and offered a bow to Tiadaria. His eyes lingered on her collar and then flicked to Faxon.

  “She’s the one who wields my swords, aye?”

  Faxon nodded. Gunther’s smile widened.

  “Couldn’t have gone to a prettier girl. But ye’re not here to talk about my swordsmithing, aye? What can Gunther do for ye?”

  “We need provisions and quickly. We need to head north before sunset.”

  Gunther’s smile faded a trifle. He peered closely at Faxon. “Faxon, ye huntin, or being hunted?”

  “Probably a little of both, which is why time is of the essence.”

  Gunther nodded. “Oh aye, old Gunther’ll set ye right.” The dwarf put two stubby fingers in his mouth and issued such a piercing whistle that both Tia and Wynn winced.

  A blur of forest green swung down from the upper platform behind the dwarf. The elvish woman landed lightly on the balls of her feet, bowing so deeply that Tia could see the half dozen gold rings that adorned the pointed tips of each ear. Her mud-brown hair was cropped short and spiked out at the top. When she smiled at them, her teeth glittered like pearls.

  “This is Furia. She will get ye what ye need as quickly as you can give her a list.”

  Gunther excused himself to attend to another customer and Faxon produced a long scroll of paper from inside his parchment. The elf scanned the paper, her oval eyes widening slightly at some of the entries on the list. Furia deftly rolled the list into a tight tube and handed it back to Faxon, who looked perplexed.

  “You can hold on to this,” he said, offering her the list.

  “No need,” she replied. Her voice was soft and gentle as a summer shower. “I know what you need.”

  “How?” Faxon’s skepticism was plentiful and plainly apparent.

  “Here,” she said, tapping her temple. She smiled. Furia grabbed the rope she had swung down on and briskly shimmied to the top of the platform.

  Watching her move among the pallets and sacks, barrels and bags, was like watching an exceptionally skilled dancer execute an arrangement written for one. She dodged around others working from the same pallets, plucking items from cases, hangers, and bins and tossing them down to Faxon and the others. As she continued her lithe performance among the rafters, the pile of supplies and provisions grew until Tiadaria wondered how they were going to carry everything they apparently needed.

  A moment after that worry entered Tia’s mind, Furia leapt off the platform above, executed an incredible somersault in midair, and landed on her feet beside them. She plucked a sheet of paper from the counter, took a pencil from behind her ear, and began tallying their purchases.

  Wynn looked at Tia with raised eyebrows and she just shrugged. The day had been full of surprises. That was for certain. After Furia had written out their bill of sale, she handed it to Faxon.

  “A pleasure meeting all of you, come again any time.” With that, she was gone, swinging up into the rafters from her line and surveying the warehouse floor for another client to assist.

  Gunther hopped from crate to crate behind the counter, coming to where they were still standing, dumbstruck. He held out his hand for the bill of sale, snapping his pudgy fingers to get Faxon’s attention when he
took too long.

  “Best puller I’ve ever had,” he said as he perused the sheet of paper. “I told ye that ye’d be set in no time.”

  “And you delivered, as always, Gunther. What’s the damage?” Faxon pulled a heavily laden purse from inside his robes. The dwarf said something in a language that sounded like a rock slide inside a bass drum. Tia was surprised to hear Faxon reply in kind.

  Wynn leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “They’re dickering. Its ancient dwarven. I don’t know enough to understand all of it, but Faxon’s driving a hard bargain.”

  The rumbling back-and-forth exchange continued for several minutes until the dwarf thrust out his hand and Faxon took it, pumping it three times.

  “Well bargained, lad,” Gunther said with a shake of his head. “I never should have taught ye that.”

  Faxon smiled. “We all have our vices, Gunther.” He took several large gold crowns from his purse and laid them on the table. From inside his robe, he added a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. The dwarf made the package disappear under the counter, then picked up the coins and slipped them in a pocket.

  “A pleasure,” Gunther said with a smile. “Take care of yeself, lad. And your friends.” He moved off down the counter.

  Faxon turned to Tia and Wynn. “Let’s get packed up and on the road. I want to be beyond Overwatch by nightfall.”

  Faxon rooted around in the pile of supplies and produced three large travel packs of fine leather. The supplies disappeared into the packs in relatively short order and Faxon ushered them outside. As Tia hefted her pack, she wondered at how light it was and how easily it conformed to her back and shoulders. These weren’t just ordinary packs. They had to be enchanted.

  There was no way the coins that Faxon had given to Gunther could have accounted for the massive amount of provisions they had purchased. Tia had been curious about what was in the paper-wrapped package before. Now she was dying of curiosity. Faxon caught her eye.

  “Yes, they’re enchanted. No, I’m not telling you what was in the package. Let’s go.”

  Tia sulked the entire way back to the inn, where she changed into her armor and hung her sword belt from her hips, well below the pack. Wynn traded his travel clothes for robes and they set out into the rapidly aging day.

  Chapter Ten

  The road leading out of Overwatch took them around the greater bulk of the city and up to the crest of a rise that was nearly as high as the upper level of the city. Looking down, it was easy to understand why the marvelous place was called Overwatch. From the upper levels of the city, especially from the highest towers that lined the cliff-side over the lower city, one could easily see the entire river valley and a good stretch of the land beyond. They passed through the city gates, which were well guarded by mercenaries, and out onto the road that led north.

  They stopped at a livery just outside the city and Faxon inquired about the rate for three horses to take north. The stableman quoted a price so outrageously high that Tiadaria thought he was joking. It was just as well that she didn’t say anything, for the man was completely serious. He and Faxon settled down to the serious work of dickering for an acceptable price. When they finally came to an agreement, the sum was still more than Tiadaria could credit.

  “Remember,” the hostler reminded Faxon as he led the beasts out by their reins. “They’ll take you to the Narrow Pass. No farther. They’re well trained to return here. I’ll expect them back tonight sometime.”

  Faxon agreed, again, to the terms and helped Tia onto the unfamiliar mount. She missed Nightwind and the way that he knew her every command and mood. Still, any horse was better than no horse at all, even if they would only have them for the first leg of their journey. The rest would be done on foot. The first half hour or so of their departure from Overwatch was conducted in silence as the mounts and riders got acquainted.

  They rode three abreast, keeping the horses at a reasonable pace, fast enough to make good time but not so fast that conversation was impossible between them.

  “Are there any cities further north than Overwatch?” Wynn asked as they followed the cobbled road. Far on the horizon, they could see the snow-capped peaks of the Frozen Frontier.

  “Nothing quite as large or hospitable. There are a handful of towns leading up toward the mountains, and of course the clan villages.” Faxon eyed Tiadaria and she snorted.

  “I’ve heard that the clans are all savages,” Wynn said thoughtfully. Faxon chuckled and shook his head.

  “I’ll show you a savage,” Tiadaria retorted, her eyes flashing.

  “You were part of a clan?” Wynn’s eyes widened. His dismay was so comical that Tia couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

  “Yes. I was the Folkledre’s daughter.” She grimaced. “For all the good that did me.”

  “So you were a princess?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “I don’t--”

  “Let it go, Wynn.” Faxon interjected, trying to spare the young man from any further blunders on his part.

  Tia looked at the quintessentialist and then back to Wynn. “My father sold me into slavery. That’s how I got this.” She slipped a finger into her collar, drawing it as far from her neck as it would go and then dropping it. “But it’s also how I met the Captain and ultimately came to the Imperium. So I’d say it was a fair trade.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wynn seemed more uncomfortable than her easy retelling of her misadventure should account for. “I didn’t know. Faxon could remove that. He invented witchmetal, you know.”

  “I’m going to scout ahead,” Faxon announced suddenly, and spurred his mount into a canter. He didn’t slow again until he was far ahead of them on the road.

  “I know he could,” Tia answered, looking after Faxon, her expression thoughtful. “I chose to keep it.”

  “You did?” Tia couldn’t tell if Wynn was impressed or horrified. Or possibly a little of both. “Why?”

  “Because it reminds me of someone who meant a lot to me. Someone who taught me that what I was wasn’t all I could be.”

  “The Captain?”

  “Yes”

  It was Wynn’s turn to look thoughtful. “Was he a rogue mage too?”

  Tia went rigid so quickly that her horse whinnied in alarm. She reigned in her mount so hard that Wynn actually walked past her and had to turn his beast around to look her in the face.

  “How did you know I was a rogue mage?”

  “I’ve known since the first time you touched me in the inn,” he shrugged. “Every quintessentialist, apprentice or not, knows what link-shock feels like. I know you tried to cover it up, so I didn’t say anything. It’s only logical that Faxon knows, so I figured if Faxon knew and you didn’t want me to know, that was okay.”

  She shook her head. Tia suddenly felt like her thoughts were swimming in a hundred different directions at once.

  “Why? Wynn, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re--”

  “Too rational? Too logical? A stick in the mud that always follows the rules?”

  Tia blushed and dropped her eyes. “Well. Yes.”

  “At first, I was tempted to turn you in,” he admitted candidly. “But the more I got to know you, the more I got to like you, and, well, I figured it couldn’t hurt to break the rules just this once.”

  “I appreciate your keeping my secret.” She laughed. “We didn’t get off to the best start. I’m a little surprised you didn’t turn me in to the inquisitors right then.”

  Wynn shrugged. “Your heart was in the right place. It’s one of the things I love about you.” Tiadaria’s head jerked up and Wynn ground his teeth. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! In the candor of the moment he had let his guard slip a little too far. “As a person,” he amended lamely, his cheeks blazing red. “We should probably catch up with Faxon.”

  He turned his mount around and flicked the reigns, urging it on up ahead where Faxon was waiting.

  “Wynn--”

  “I
t's alright, Tia. Just forget it and let’s catch up.”

  Tiadaria lagged behind a bit, trying to put her troubled thoughts in order. Wynn’s revelation, if it was one, was troubling on a couple different levels. Maybe he did actually love her as a friend, which was perfectly understandable and to be expected. They’d been working together very closely and she enjoyed his company. Still, it didn’t sound like he meant as friends and the fact that he couldn’t even look at her after he stumbled over his words...

  Faxon and Wynn were waiting for her and when she caught up, their journey had gone silent. They rode in absolute quiet for quite some time until they reached a rocky pass, apparently the only way past the nearly vertical rock face that they had come upon. Large boulders littered the road here.

  “Looks like we’ve reached the end of civilization,” Wynn said.

  “Hush.” Faxon held up a hand, his head cocked to one side. Tia heard it too, a scratching, like claws on rock. Her scimitars rang as she drew them from their scabbards.

  The horses reared almost simultaneously, scenting something they feared. The trio had to hold tightly to the beasts to keep them from bolting back the way they had come. Sensing something not quite right, Tiadaria slipped into sphere sight. She saw the black writhing mass crouched behind a nearby boulder.

  “Xarundi!” she cried, slipping back into the physical realm and brandishing a sword at the rock the creature was hiding behind. She dropped the point of her blade, ready to run down the Xarundi when it appeared. It stepped out from behind the rock, its arms spread wide. Tia thought the creature looked odd and realized that its strange look was because its tail was missing.

  “Please hold your blade, Swordmage,” the Xarundi’s grasp of the common tongue was nearly human, but carried the burr of an underlying growl in the pronunciation. “I mean neither you nor your beasts any harm.”