by Mark Dame
“He said you abandoned him.” The innkeeper looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “He said he almost died trying to get back here on his own.”
“If I ever get hold of that squeaky toad, he’ll wish he had died out there,” Sigrid said.
“Dear me. If I had known what he’d done, I would never have allowed him back in my doors, you can count on that.” The innkeeper nodded his head to emphasize his words.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Flyn said. “Right now, we just need rest and a good meal.”
“Of course, whatever I can do.”
Svendar provided them with rooms and had fresh water brought in for them to bathe. He refused to take any money for the rooms, telling them it was the least he could do for letting them get swindled by Gunnulf, in spite of their assurances that it wasn’t his fault.
That evening, freshly bathed and wearing new clothes, they met in the inn’s dining room, much as they had almost three weeks earlier.
“I think I’m going to stay here,” Flyn announced as they ate dinner.
“Why?” Randell asked. “You can’t be thinking about going back to Uskleig alone?”
“What choice do I have? I can’t leave Kel there. And if what he said is true, Jarot is planning on invading Trygsted.”
“What we need to do is fight back,” Harvig said.
“Mighty words from an Ilfin.” Sigrid laughed.
“Not all Ilfin are afraid to fight,” Harvig retorted.
“I’ve no doubt about you, lad.”
“That’s all good, but how do we fight back?” Randell asked.
“I’ll talk to my father,” Brenna said. “I’m sure he’ll understand if I explain it to him.”
“Your father is not a warrior. He didn’t even want to let Gudbrant go to try to free you from Jarot.”
“My father’s concern is the safety of the citizens of Garthset. Once he understands that safety requires we fight back, he’ll do the right thing. But Garthset doesn’t have enough people to fight alone.”
“What about the dwarves?” Flyn asked Sigrid. “Will they fight?”
“Aye, they’ll fight, if Jarot threatens our cities. When I left home two years ago, no one even knew he existed. I’ll try to convince them, but it would help if you came with me.”
“Why me?” Flyn asked.
“You’re an Andor. The return of the Andors to Tirmar would go a long way to convince them that times are changing.”
“If they even believe me.” Flyn still wasn’t sure what the big deal was about being an Andor.
“They’ll believe you.”
“Even if you convince the Kirrs to help, I doubt it will be enough,” Harvig said. “We must unite the Ilfin clan. We haven’t been united as a single clan in decades.”
“Can your father help do that?” Flyn asked Brenna.
“I don’t know. All we can do is try.”
“It still won’t be enough,” Randell said. “We need to unite all the clans.”
“That hasn’t been done since the Council of En was dissolved, four hundred years ago,” Harvig said.
“Then perhaps it’s time the council was reformed,” Randell replied.
“What’s the Council of En?” Flyn asked.
“After the Revolution, each clan settled in a different part of Tirmar,” Sigrid said. “Before long, the leaders realized they needed a way to keep the peace between the clans, so they founded the Council. It was made up of representatives from each clan.”
“Except the Andors,” Brenna added.
“Aye, except the Andors, who had disappeared.”
“Reuniting the clans,” Harvig said, shaking his head. “How can we possibly hope to accomplish that?”
Sigrid sighed and looked around the table.
“There’s something I should tell you,” she said. “Me and Osgar weren’t looking for gold when Jarot’s beasties got us. We were looking for you.” She looked at Flyn.
“Me?” Flyn said. “What do you mean?”
“A man named Rafin recruited us. He’s some kind of wizard. Somehow, he knew you were coming. He told us that the Andor would arrive on the shores of the Mithar Ocean near Egrathwaite, where Andor himself left Tirmar. Of course, we thought he was crazy, but me brother talked me into it.”
“But how would he know anything about us?” Flyn stared at the dwarf. “Or that our boat would wash up where it did? For that matter, why would he care?”
“An Andor coming back to Tirmar is a big thing, but according to Rafin, your arrival means more than that. He said you’re the key to reuniting the clans.”
“I don’t understand,” Flyn said.
“Can’t really say I understand either. Me brother and me were just doing what we were paid to do. Rafin sent us to meet you and take you to Tralborg. When the orcs captured us, I figured we failed, especially after they killed Osgar.”
Sigrid scowled.
“So your brother was killed looking for me?”
“Don’t blame yourself, laddie. It was the orc bastards who killed him.” She paused, frowning. “Anyway, when your friend showed up, we thought he must be the Andor we were sent to find. Osgar was killed trying to escape so he could free Kel before they sent him to Uskleig. I’d lost me brother and the Andor. I just wanted to get out and go home. Then you came along. After we escaped, I thought about trying to convince you to come to Tralborg with me, maybe get help there instead of heading off to rescue Kel yourself.”
“I would never have done that. I had to at least try to rescue him.”
“Aye, which is why I decided to go with you instead.”
“I still don’t understand how this Rafin knows about us.”
“That’s a question for him,” Sigrid said. “But finding you, and now all this talk about reuniting the clans, makes me think that maybe the old wizard wasn’t so crazy after all.”
A stunned silence fell over the table. Flyn tried to make sense of what Sigrid was telling him. The others just stared at the two. Finally, Harvig spoke.
“If you hadn’t already proved yourself to me, Dwarf, I would run you out of here right now for that story.”
Sigrid nodded and sipped her beer.
“Isn’t Tralborg where the Council of En met?” Brenna asked.
“It was,” Randell said. He turned to Sigrid. “So, this wizard is a Ranjer?”
“Aye,” Sigrid replied.
“What does that mean?” Flyn asked.
“It means that if anyone can help you rescue your friend, it’s probably this Rafin,” Harvig said.
“What do we do now?” Randell asked.
Flyn thought for a moment.
“I guess I’ll go with Sigrid to see this Rafin. Maybe he can help, maybe not, but I don’t know of any other way to save Kel.”
“I’d like to go with you, but I need to return to Garthset,” Brenna said. “Randell, Harvig, and I will try to convince my father, but whether he agrees or not, we’ll do what we can to meet with the Thanes of larger Ilfin towns.”
Randell and Harvig nodded in agreement.
“Well, I guess we have a plan,” Sigrid said. She sat back and finished her beer.
Anxious to set out on their new journeys, the group left Kaldersten early the next morning. They traveled south together for as long as they could. With the fair weather, they reached Inefel less than three weeks after leaving Kaldersten.
Flyn spent much of the journey thinking of Sigrid’s revelation and what Rafin might want with him. He asked Sigrid about Rafin and what he might be able to do to help him rescue Kel. Sigrid answered his questions as best she could, though she didn’t seem to know a lot more about the wizard than what she had already told them.
After reaching Inefel, they spent one last night together. The next morning, each group set out to their own destination, Flyn and Sigrid south to Tralborg, Randell, Harvig, and Brenna east to Garthset. Flyn promised to return to Garthset once he rescued Kel. They wished him luck, then turned east
ward, toward the Estlaeg Mountains, a thin, gray line on the horizon.
“Ready to go?” Sigrid asked.
Flyn nodded, but kept staring after his companions. He watched them until they disappeared over the crest of a small hill.
“I think I’m going to miss them,” he said, still watching the road to the east.
“Aye, they’re good folks. I’ll miss them too.”
As he and Sigrid set out from Inefel, Flyn thought about home, about his mother and father, and about his brother, and Kel’s family. He wondered if they had given up hope for him and Kel. He wondered if he would ever see them again.
Flyn sighed and adjusted his pack.
“I will see them again,” he said to himself. “And Kel too.”
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is simultaneously a solitary task and a group effort. A writer spends hours upon hours at his or her desk (or kitchen table) pouring a story onto paper or into a computer. Even those who write on the subway on their way to work are isolated from the world around them while they write.
But books aren’t just the result of the author’s efforts. Authors rely on many others to turn their work into something people want to read. While I can never mention everyone by name, you know who you are, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You don’t know how much your help means.
There are, however, a few I do want to mention by name.
To my wife and kids for their love and support. I promise I won’t make you read another first draft for at least a week. Love you guys!
As always, I want to thank my editor, Holly Atkinson. Once again, you’ve made me work harder than I wanted to, and kept me from getting lazy at the end.
Liz, Ken, Jill, Michelle, and Shaina: Thanks so much for taking the time to read my early drafts and provide me with feedback on the story. This book is eminently better for your help.
And to all my readers, thanks so much for spending a little bit of your time in my imagination. If I’ve taken your mind off the world around you for a few hours, then I’ve done my job.
Until next time, happy reading!
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Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
About the Author
In addition to writing fiction, Mark Dame is a professional software developer and freelance commercial writer. He also works part-time as a flight instructor teaching people to fly small single engine planes. When he’s not writing or flying, you might find Mark scuba diving in caves, camping, running, or biking. Mark lives in the suburbs of Cincinnati, Ohio with his wife and two sons.
Connect With Mark Online:
https://www.markdame.com/
