“More like visions, I suppose.”
“What sort of visions?” Saeunn blurted from the adjacent cot beside Amara, sitting up and fully attentive.
Amara slid from the cot and pushed past Elec to stand in the center of the caravan.
“It…they were horrible dreams,” she admitted, spinning and staring at the half-ogre, Orngoth, sitting quietly in the corner of the wagon. He was staring at a multicolored gem nd glanced up at her. She backed away hurriedly, a look of panic present on her face.
“Visions can be…deceptive…and false, my lady,” Garius clarified as he took a seat, staring absently out the window. “But, you are already mindful of this fact.”
“Indeed,” Amara said as she backed into Rose, who caught her and straightened her up again.
“Careful, princess,” she teased. She moved to a cupboard, opened it, retrieved a pitcher and poured a mug of wine. Amara backed away from Rose with a grimace and a look of embarrassment on her face. It was obvious she felt out of place here and Rose only accentuated that feeling for her.
“I thank you for finding me, Inquisitor,” Amara said as she cast her shadow over him.
“It was…unplanned, my lady. A stroke of blind luck, really, I am sad to admit,” he said. A look of confusion twisted her otherwise beautiful features, followed quickly by a clearly profound sadness.
“Apologies if my words offended you, my lady. I truly feel that finding you was a gift from the gods themselves. All of Wothlondia is the better for it,” Garius said, standing and dropping to one knee as he finished the statement. It was obvious to Rose that the Inquisitor wanted to make good on his show of respect to the princess. She once again fought to stifle a chuckle.
“Then what task brought you there?”
“We were investigating the disappearance of a dangerous artifact. It contains the soul of a very powerful mage who is now an instrument of undeath and holds the key to the creature’s return to power,” Garius remarked as he stood.
“I see,” she said dejectedly, slumping into the chair which Garius had just vacated.
“The dwarf who held you captive. Who was he?” Elec asked, attempting to break her sour mood.
“I had visions of that one. He may have once been a hero in another life, I tend to believe,” she said, straightening her posture as she spoke. “He is not truly a scoundrel in the basest sense, nor does he seem to be a malevolent person by nature, but rather a misguided soul.”
“We should have slain him when we had the chance,” Saeunn said curtly, joining the woman at the table and staring hard at Amara.
“Aye. I have a feeling we might be seeing that one again,” Rose agreed, as she drained the mug, poured herself another helping of the wine, and then joined the other two at the table.
Saeunn tore meat from a rather stale leg of lamb they’d had in reserve. Elec had cooked it for her using something in his lab. The smell of the meat wafted in the caravan, though no one seemed hungry enough to care. The smell actually made Rose queasy.
“I’ve no intention of pursuing these highwaymen anytime soon. But, in the future, he will be brought to court to face justice for the crimes he’s committed against Norgeld…amongst others,” Garius claimed sternly. “You can bet on that. I may have given my word that I would never return, but I made no such promise regarding others from my Order.”
Silence fell over the wagon and Rose lay down on the cot at the rear of the space. Elec and Amara discussed many subjects at length while Saeunn honed the edge of her blade with a whetstone. Those were the last sounds she heard before sleep claimed her.
“I’m doing you no good here anymore,” said the half-orc to Xorgram as they stood about in his private chambers. Cassia, Helene and the taur were all there, as well as Fuddle. “I need to go.”
He had lingering thoughts about the woman he’d seen in the mineshaft—Cassia’s dance partner—and had the strangest recollection of his own mother.
Amtusk had fleeting visions of his mother. She might even still be alive and quite probably living in Oakhaven, where he was born. He had a sudden yearning to see if she yet lived there. The sentiment had surfaced mildly when he stopped Rogoth from killing his own wife in cold blood. Then seeing the redheaded woman reinforced the feeling, strangely. She reminded him of his earliest recollections of his mother for one reason or another. It was probably just the color of her hair, he figured.
“What are ye sayin’?” Xorgram said with a half-smile, spinning to stare at the half-orc and pulling him from his reminiscing. He scanned Amtusk closely, perhaps assuming it was all in jest.
There was no smile forthcoming, however.
“Are ye serious?”
Amtusk stood before him and nodded.
“I mean you no ill will and no disrespect, my lord,” he began to say as Xorgram scoffed at the title he so loathed. “But, I have come to realize that my life is…..”
Xorgram studied the half-orc’s body language, realizing him to be serious in his concerns.
“I am feeling that I need to seek higher purpose and wish to find it,” he paused and looked up toward the surface, “out there—with your consent, of course.”
Amtusk did not realize the true effect it would have on him, or Xorgram when he thought about, before approaching the dwarf with his concerns. It had obviously affected Xorgram as he recognized a pained expression and a hint of true sadness on the dwarf’s face, but he felt he needed to do this for himself. In his mind, his debt to Xorgram was paid.
Besides, he mused, pilfering and sacking the lowly merchants is not exactly a challenge anymore. I grow very tired of my duties here. And I grow even wearier of Synewulf. If I stay, I will most likely kill him. It is better this way.
He looked up to see Xorgram’s staring past him. Before he could even move, it was already too late.
Cassia began to maneuver herself slowly at Amtusk’s back and Helene, too, began mouthing a spell. Xorgram shot Cassia a disapproving look, then shook his head ever so slightly, but did not catch Helene as she finished her spell.
Strands of the blackest pitch once more originated from her, sent forth along her arms as they entangled the body of the mighty half-orc, lifting him from the ground.
“No!” Xorgram barked, staring firmly at the warlock. Her eyes widened in surprise and she nodded with acquiescence, dropping the half-orc to the hard ground as her ebon bands faded from sight.
“If I must die in order to be released from your service, then so be it,” Amtusk said resignedly.
“Ye have served me well, Amtusk. And I bear ye no ill will either,” Xorgram managed, helping the half-orc to his feet.
“Grogo will soon be here with me hammer and we will continue on as planned,” Xorgram declared, this statement directed more to the others in the room than to Amtusk.
“As fer you,” Xorgram said, moving behind his desk and fetching something. He tossed a shirt interlaced with a series of tiny black chains encompassing its surface to the half-orc. “This be fer you. Consider it a parting gift fer the loyalty ye shown me in the past.”
Amtusk caught the thing and considered it, holding it up with two hands and admiring its artistry. Xorgram leaned in to Amtusk and whispered, “There be a couple o’ horse at the base o’ the hill. Ye can take one if ye need.” Then he backed away from him and sighed deeply. A moment of silence passed as the half-orc continued examining the ebon chain shirt.
“And don’t ferget yer oath,” Xorgram added, nodding to the half-orc. He knew that Amtusk remembered the vows he spoke years prior when he joined the Blackstone Brotherhood. Words that were spoken as a vow to themselves and to the others, and had been upheld for a decade plus.
No one had ever voluntarily left before, though, and Xorgram had never even considered it until now, but he saw no real reason why he should kill the half-orc. It was simply not his way.
Xorgram stood away from the door and the others, even Skuros and Kroskus, mimicked his actions to allow the half-orc to pass.
Xorgram began to listen to the others murmuring amongst themselves as he watched the half-orc head straight toward the ladder.
“I’ll be gone within the hour,” was the last thing he heard the half-orc say before he turned his attention back to the others.
“I be thinkin’ we need ta start workin’ on a way ta better fortify the village,” he declared. They began discussing placing a series of traps that could be set upon the outer walkways and within the village. Xorgram removed his thoughts from his long-time raid leader, and listened intently as plans were developed.
The sounds of howling in the distance awakened Saeunn. They were faint, but distinct in their pitch.
“Wolves,” she said loudly, “or worse.” They’d been traveling without incident the entire trip back, which she guessed had been at least several weeks by now, judging by the parchment that the Inquisitor kept spiked to the wall that measured the passing of days. She could not read, but counting marks was something with which she was familiar.
Garius and Rose woke from their slumber at the sound of her voice. They’d both fallen asleep uncomfortably in the chairs surrounding the table and Elec, who was in a kind of meditative state, blinked and was fully aware of his surroundings.
Orngoth remained in a deep sleep near the front of the caravan sprawled out on the floor and Amara still slumbered on Saeunn’s bunk.
Saeunn peered out the porthole at the side of the caravan, scanning for signs of the wolves. Dawn was fast approaching, the sun peeking through the clouds on the eastern horizon.
Amara awoke next and lowered herself to the floor gingerly, stared out the larger porthole at the rear of the caravan, and screamed. “Dire wolves!”
Saeunn bounded quickly to her position and squinted out into the dimly lit landscape. She spun around and nodded a confirmation to Garius and Rose.
“Worgs, for certain? How many?” Garius enquired, rubbing the stiffness from his neck. Saeunn considered their size. There was no mistaking them for mere wolves.
“Aye, worgs, and many at that,” she replied as she gazed out and witnessed at least several dozen of them rapidly closing on them.
Suddenly shadows enveloped both the ground and the caravan. Saeunn made her way to peer out the door and realized just then that they’d entered into the easternmost section of Amrel Forest.
“Pick up the pace!” Garius ordered the construct. The wagon hastily shifted speeds and seemed to be going ever so slightly faster than before.
Saeunn looked out the back again and saw the worgs still gaining ground on them, making up half the distance between them in a very short time. The shadows of Amrel’s forest hid the sun from the caravan, making the worgs even harder to see in the gloom.
The howls grew louder still.
The barbarian woman gripped the pommel of her greatsword tightly and twisted it in her hands until it burned from the friction.
She awaited the word as to when they would jump from the wagon and face the ultimate end. She smiled, sensing that if she were to die, it would be as her father did—in glory to The Champion. She would take as many down as she could and they would know the day they fought Saeunn of Chansuk.
A whistling sound breached the sound of the howling, followed by a solid thud. And then another and another. Saeunn gazed back to behold several shafts protruding from one or two of the worgs. Then she clearly watched an arrow enter a worg’s flesh, dropping it to the ground.
“Garius, come see,” Saeunn stated with a grin. Garius stood watching with her as they witnessed a hail of arrows rain down upon the dire wolves.
Amara pushed her way in between them both. “It is the elves of Amrel that aid us, is it not?!”
“Aye, my lady,” Garius replied.
Saeunn moved toward an empty porthole, opposite Elec who was watching, too, and peered into the boughs of the trees. All about them, she could see countless numbers of elves from branch to bough, launching their reign of projectiles into the worg pack. It was truly a breathtaking moment for the barbarian. She had seen elves before, but never in this number.
Within moments, the carcasses of the worgs littered the dewy morning grass of Amrel Forest, and the caravan continued on, unmolested.
The caravan made its way north.
Finally, the gates and familiar facades of Oakhaven came into view in the distance. Elec had been gone for hours, disappearing with several helpings of food and not saying a word. Garius was even too tired to question him, he admitted.
The Deluge, a particularly drizzly month, was in full swing and the ground was soft with recent precipitation, moistening its surface. It slowed their travel a bit which added to the irritable atmosphere in the wagon, Garius noted. It had been a long couple of weeks and would be another hour or more before they crossed the threshold to Oakhaven.
“Not a bad ride back, all said,” Rose quipped with a smile, genuinely happy to have Oakhaven in sight.
Elec stepped from his lab and placed a heavy pot of cooked beef with onions and other spices on the table, followed by a loaf of spiced bread. The smells overwhelmed their senses and all could not help but stop what they were doing to gaze upon the feast. As he set it down, he uttered an ancient elven phrase and the glistening portal faded from sight and the elf returned the ring to the safety of his belt pouch.
Everyone in the wagon made their way slowly to the table, including Garius. He hadn’t eaten much during the time they’d been traveling back to Oakhaven.
“I do enjoy cooking if I am afforded the time,” Elec mentioned as they each took turns at the pot of food and the loaf of bread.
“Good to know, elf,” said Saeunn with a rare and genuine smile. It seemed to lighten the dour mood of all inside, even Amara, as she, Rose, Elec and Saeunn sat around the table and ate silently.
Garius and Orngoth took their food to separate corners and ate voraciously. The time passed quietly and quickly until they were finally at Oakhaven’s gates.
“I shall set eyes upon Adok once more!” Elec said excitedly. Garius had almost forgotten the elf’s magnificent mount, but clearly, Elec had not.
“It has been too long,” Garius agreed with a stretch of his muscles. He caught a sidelong glance from Rose, who turned quickly away from him. He found himself entertaining briefly the possibilities of what meaning that gaze held for them both. He did admit that there was some part of him that was attracted to the feisty rogue—more than a little, and more than even he was prepared to admit. He quickly dismissed that line of thinking, not wanting to consider it at this time. There were other pressing matters that needed his attention.
“I shall speak with Tiyarnon and Nimaira immediately and have the sorceress send word to your mother announcing your safe return, my lady,” Garius said, turning his attention to Amara. “Once I counsel with Tiyarnon, we shall escort you home safely, even if I must take you there myself.”
“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Amara responded with a nod.
She backed away and almost tripped over Orngoth who stirred from his nap. Saeunn was fast asleep at the rear of the wagon.
Garius was relieved to return to Oakhaven for many reasons. Their food supply was all but depleted. The elf had used most of the remainder to make his stew. However, the Inquisitor did not look forward to informing Tiyarnon and the rest of the High Council of their failure to acquire the phylactery.
The watchmen opened the gates to the city immediately, no doubt recognizing the exquisite caravan belonging to Nimaira Silvershade. The entrance and inner courtyard to the city were teeming with visitors, merchants, citizens and laborers.
As they entered the courtyard, Garius recognized the familiar figures and garb of both Tiyarnon and Nimaira intermixed within the crowd. The vehicle came to a halt and he stepped from the wagon first, his deep red armor and inquisitorial regalia attracting stares of both exhilaration and dread alike. He strode forward to eventually stand face to face with his former mentor, and as he closed the gap between them, he shook his head.<
br />
Tiyarnon’s bearded smile receded, replaced slowly by one of bleak anguish.
“That is…disheartening,” said the High Priest of The Shimmering One with a deep sigh. The elderly man sipped water from a mug through his thick, white beard and held the mug thoughtfully against his chin.
“We were concerned about this and we all knew that the mission’s success would be improbable. It was a formidable assignment,” Nimaira added, clearly attempting to comfort the Inquisitor and to remove the scowl planted on his face.
“It still reeks of failure, and that is something that does not sit well with me, my lady,” Garius specified, leveling an unpleasant gaze her way. “And the Inquisition does not tolerate failure,” he added, looking to the opposite end of the table, where two hooded sages from the Order of the Faceless Knights sat quietly scribing on parchments.
“We must address Queen Lynessa as that has become our most pressing issue. Sending you back out to pursue the phylactery would prove…most difficult now, considering our lack of information,” Tiyarnon spoke as he placed the mug down. He stood and began pacing about the room.
“I was informed only that there was another demon involved in its recent abduction,” Garius stated. “Though, the source of the information is unreliable at best, yes.”
They were situated inside the main library within the Hall of the High Council which, despite the enormity of the room, felt suddenly small to Garius. There were tomes, books, parchments, scrolls and the like lining the walls and stacked on tables. This was no doubt, where the sages had spent much of their time while they had been in town these last few months.
“Nimaira will begin the ritual. It will take half an hour for her to be ready, so we should gather her Highness now,” Tiyarnon mentioned as he pulled a tome from the shelf and leafed through its contents, “Return to us shortly in Nimaira’s quarters.”
With that, Garius moved to do as he was bid.
The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) Page 74
