by Paul Latham
Velar turned to find Shilandra still standing, hands together, gazing at the surrounding forest with some trepidation.
"Out of your element?" he said.
"You could say that."
Velar retrieved the waterskin and his pack and lead her to a large boulder at the edge of the clearing. Spreading out his cloak, they sat, and Velar found his bread and meats. Tearing a loaf in two he offered her a portion.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Food." He shrugged. "Apologies, Lady, but I doubt there's a tavern or vendor within a day’s ride of here."
"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."
Velar stuffed a chunk of bread into his mouth and chewed vigorously. Reaching into his pack he produced a small cloth and doused it with water from the skin.
"Really," Shilandra continued. "What are you doing?"
The damp cloth paused before it reached her face. Velar swallowed.
"The cut," he said.
"Oh," she replied and leaning forward, allowed him to gently scour away the dried blood. "That isn't the rag you used on the horse, is it?"
Velar laughed. "No."
"Is it bad?"
Velar shook his head. "It will bruise but the cut isn't deep."
"Will it scar?"
His hand paused for only a second before continuing.
"No” he said. “It shouldn't."
A slight blush rose to her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to find the right words."
Velar shrugged and dropped the cloth into his pack. "At times the best words are rare." He drew his dagger and sliced a chunk of dried meat from a slab and slipped it into his mouth.
She smiled a knowing smile. Or a charming smile. At the very least a smile that belied some womanly knowledge he would never be privy. But, even with the cut and the darkening bruise it was enchanting and the flutter that usually occupied his stomach in her presence made itself known again.
"You are a poet's dream, Velar," she said.
Velar stopped chewing and frowned. What did that mean? Or, more importantly, did he want to know what that meant?
"Thank you for my life," she offered.
Velar lowered his eyes. "Thanks aren’t necessary."
"I think it is."
"Well . . . uh . . . " Something. Say anything. Get the reins to the other hand. "You do realize we can't return to Sareon."
Shilandra blinked, her expression slowly falling to a fierce glare.
"What?"
"Not until we find the Chalice."
"I am hardly prepared for travel of any sort, Velar."
"Time has become a factor."
"Why? Gelai has obviously waylaid other knights."
"But now they have your journals, your notes and the book."
She lifted her fingers to her lips. "Blessed spirits. I hadn’t thought."
Velar nodded. "Time has become a factor," he repeated.
"Then shouldn't we be traveling?"
"It will take her time to decipher the journals and come to the same conclusion you have. Besides, Akeil needs rest."
"Akeil?" Her eyes widened. "Your horse? You would put the well-being of that beast before the good of all the lands?"
A confusing anger welled in his chest. "I doubt you or anyone else is aware of what is actually good for the lands."
Her eyes narrowed. "What precisely does that mean?"
Velar gave a long sigh. He tred through dangerous territory with discussions of politics and such. He was tired to the point that his eyes hurt and deliberation over anything could only lead to those less than best words.
"Nothing," he said. "It means nothing."
"You don't believe in the Chalice."
"Which is why, I suppose I'm lost in a dark wood somewhere in Morcre will a zealot secultariate." There they go. Those less than best words.
"Zealot! Why you-"
"At this point," he interjected, raising his voice above hers, "the implications of the Chalice and its effect on the lands are irrelevant."
"How can they be irrelevant?"
"Because, the Chalice is lost and until it is found and passed from my hands to the Chancellor's hands, it is not an influence on anything political."
"Not true."
Velar shrugged and cut into the meat again. "Perhaps not. But that's how I see it."
"But-"
"No! Understand. I have given my life to the Order for reasons that are my own. Suffice to say that without the Order I would not have a life at this point. The Order has seen fit to grant me this task and I will succeed. Whether or not I believe in the Chalice means nothing. It is only my duty to recover it. Not dictate it's use. Or abuse."
A painfully long silence ensued. Shilandra eyed him with a measure of disdain until she finally looked away.
"I'm disappointed in you, Velar," she murmured and the smoldering spark of anger in his chest burst into flame.
What right did she have to impose any belief or attitude on him? He understood his obligations better than she and had no desire to take on others, imagined or otherwise, that were simply none of his concern.
Velar shook his head sadly realizing that the anger had once again burned away the pleasantly uncomfortable feeling he had in her presence. As if he should even be wasting thought on the matter. He knew his duty. It meant little that she did not.
But still.
Velar returned the slab of meat to his pack and pushed to his feet.
"Bockril has a sister in Tymox," he said. "I'll arrange for you to stay with her while I go into the desert."
Shilandra gave a dismissing hiss and, crossing her arms, turned her back to him.
Velar frowned.
Disappointed? An appropriate description perhaps. For his attitude as well as hers.
Turning, Velar walked to where Akeil grazed and stretched out beneath the shade of a tree to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
"If you're so certain Gelai isn't following," Shilandra asked, her voice riddled with irritation, "then why can't we return to the road?"
"The situation warrants caution," Velar stated. "Besides we are out of the forest and close to Tymox."
"We are?"
Velar turned in the saddle to catch her in the corner of his eye "How can someone who lives to study maps and journals to locate a cup not know-"
"It's not a cup!" she barked and Velar winced. Riding behind him as she did put her mouth intolerably close to his ear. "It's the Chalice."
"Fine."
"Have you even thought once what it's like?"
"I'll know it when I see it."
"I simply can't believe your attitude."
"It's not an attitude," Velar snapped then sighed. "It's a viewpoint."
"What's the difference?"
"My attitude is positive. My viewpoint is neutral."
"So, you're saying you have intentions of success and no thoughts on the ramifications of success."
He thought for a moment. "Precisely."
"Rather irresponsible of you, isn't it?"
Velar threw up his hands and shook his head. "Fine, woman-"
"Do not address me as such."
Velar opened his mouth, closed it again, then slowly lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose hoping to ward off the ache developing in his head. "As I was saying-"
"Am I exasperating you?"
"To say the least."
"I'm sorry," she said with an affected tone of meekness. "I do get carried away." She shifted behind him. "I mean, really, you save my life not once but . . ."
"And the thanks I get. " Velar muttered.
"Why you . . . you . . . brute! What would you have me do? Fling myself into your arms promising my favors to your valiant attentions? Really, Velar, you do seem to linger in stories told to children about brave knights and fierce dragons."
Velar scanned the sparse, yellow countryside, tongue poking idly into his cheek. He could deem that a problem. Never a maiden devouring dragon around whe
n you needed one.
Irked by his silence, Shilandra rapped her knuckles on his breast plate. "Are you listening to me?"
"Oh, yes," Velar said with a sigh. "Constantly."
* * *
Tymox appeared before them as they crested a low rise in the landscape. Gaunt, windblown buildings clung to the road with few signs of occupation. Velar would have thought the place deserted but for the occasional dark speck moving from one structure to the next. Perhaps the heat, which had become more and more intense over the past days forced people inside to escape the noonday sun.
"Not much to see," Shilandra commented.
Velar nodded in agreement.
They started down the rise.
"You said I would stay with Bockril's sister?" Shilandra said.
"Ina," Velar replied. "She owns a tavern."
"Why can't I accompany you into the desert?"
Velar looked to the horizon and saw the black line that marked the edge of the sands. "It could be dangerous."
"And being harassed by revenants isn't?"
"I'll have enough to worry about."
"I can take care of myself."
Velar gave a short laugh. "Obviously."
They entered the hamlet and Velar paused to get his bearings. Nothing marked the buildings and the streets were vacant. No market, no vendors. What kept this town alive?
"You there," came a woman's voice. "Over here."
Velar saw the woman standing on the steps of one of the more well maintained two story structures. Short and petite with blond hair pulled back and braided, she motioned for them to approach. Velar guided Akeil to the building and stopped.
"Lady Ina?" Velar inquired.
Ina put her hands to her hips. "I'm no lady, Sir Knight."
Velar blinked. "Apologies."
"Get down and get inside out of the heat." Ina turned her head slight. "Kilus!" she roared. A small boy scurried out of the inn.
"Take the horse and tend him," Ina instructed and the boy bounded down the steps and gripped Akeil's reins.
Velar helped Shilandra to the ground then dismounted. Kilus looked up at him and grinned, his hand extended palm up. Velar dug into his pouch and placed two coins in the boy's hand. Laughing, Kilus lead Akeil away towards stables near the inn. Velar watched them leave with some amusement and only mild trepidation. If Akeil suddenly chose to raise his head, the waif's feet would swing clear of the ground.
"Come inside both of you," Ina ordered. "There will be no baths, but you can wash up." She shook her head sadly as Shilandra mounted the steps. "By the Sands, Love, you are a mess. I'll find you some clothes." She gestured to her own breeches, loose tunic and soft boots. "I have no gowns so something like this will have to do."
Shilandra smiled. "Thank you. Anything will be greatly appreciated."
Ina's eyes narrowed suddenly. She stepped forward and gripped Shilandra's chin with a thumb and forefinger turning her head to examine the fading bruise and sealed cut on her cheek. "Getting a bit rough there, aren't we, boy?" she sneered at Velar.
"What?" Shilandra pulled her chin from the small woman's grip. "No, he didn't do this."
"He didn't, eh?"
"No," Shilandra said firmly. "I was captured in Sareon. Velar rescued me."
Ina studied her for a moment then finally nodded. "All right then. Go inside, up the stairs, first door you come to. There's water and I'll have Kilus bring you clothes."
"Thank you." Shilandra stepped around Ina and through the door.
Velar stood, one foot on the first plank of the steps and wondered if he should turn and leave now for the desert. Ina glared down at him and he returned her gaze. She had a strangely child-like face hardened at the eyes with small wrinkles and wind burnt cheeks.
"Another of my brother's cohorts, eh?" she said with a sinister smile.
Velar nodded.
She cocked her head. "Velar is it?"
Again, he nodded.
Ina laughed and turned. "Come in. I’ll find ale and we'll talk."
* * *
Darkness draped the interior. Ina motioned to the largest table and disappeared through a doorway. Velar went to the indicated table and eased himself onto one of the well-worn benches. Fatigue washed over him. Muscles ached. Bones felt heavy. And his head throbbed just enough to drain the last bit of his resolution. Perhaps he should rest here for a day or so. The Chalice could wait.
"Here we are," Ina said as she returned and placed a mug of ale in front of him.
"Thank you," Velar murmured and sipped the ale.
Ina straddled the bench and sat down. "So," she said. "After the Chalice, are you?" she grinned.
Velar slowly replaced the mug on the table. "Yes," he said.
Ina nodded. "I've had people here looking for you. Spending gold to ensure I announce your arrival."
An icy hand gripped his spirit. "Who?"
"Two lordly types with a pack of warriors."
"A pack."
Ina shrugged. "Four. Lightly armored with decent weapons."
"They left."
"The lords went the way they came. The warriors went into the desert."
Velar put a hand on his forehead, his elbow resting on the table. "So, they're ahead of me."
Ina wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Nothing to worry about, love. They didn't take a hunter, so their time is short."
Velar sighed. "You can be so sure?"
"The last one like you that came through didn't take a hunter and we never saw him again."
The last one. Another Knight of Anocren made it at least this far.
"Who are these hunters?" Velar asked.
"Shryke hunters. The only guides that could ever get you through the desert."
"And shrykes are?"
"Uh, well." Ina searched for the words. "They're creatures. Reptiles that walk upright on two legs like a horse's hind legs except instead of hooves they have talons and three toes. A reptile-like body with the upper torsos of men. Their hides make the best leather there is. It's thin but tough and the natural markings are beautiful."
Velar suddenly remembered. "I've seen it. Black and shiny with thin red stripes."
Ina nodded enthusiastically. "That's it."
Velar frowned. "Upper torsos of men?"
"The hunters don't talk about that much. Almost a secret amongst them you might say. They're afraid the customers might not take too much to the thought of using the skin of something that may have once been human."
Velar shook his head in disbelief as he took another sip of ale.
"The hunter's say that the creatures are god-marked," Ina continued. "They say that shrykes were once humans, but they did something to bring on the First Cataclysm and the gods cursed them for it."
Velar took a long deep breath and slowly released it.
"Well," he began and then laughed.
"There's a joke in this?" Ina asked through a frown.
"No. And yes. I think I laugh to avoid throwing up my hands and screaming 'why me?'."
Ina shrugged. "Why not you?"
Velar leveled his gaze at her and slowly nodded. "Precisely," he said evenly. "Why not me?"
After another pull of ale, Velar began removing his armor. He released the buckles on his forearm plate and let it fall to the table. Shilandra's blue paste had long since flaked away leaving fresh pink skin in its wake.
"It just all seemed so simple at first," he said. "I was to be a Knight of Anocren, the Grand Order. Fight when told to fight and die if need be, my loyalty based strongly on the fact that if I hadn't been afforded this opportunity then I would be dead by now or worse." With all his arm pieces off, he worked loose the leg plates. "I trained and entered the Order and my leaders sent me on this errand. I did not have to force down any doubts because I had none. My leaders had spoken."
Ina lifted an eyebrow. "And now?"
"My feelings have changed," Velar admitted. "I can't call them doubts. I think I now realize that there are f
acets of the situation I haven't been made privy to."
Ina's expression shifted again, and it reminded Velar of Teacher's smug look just before an obvious point was about to be made.
"Tell me," she said. "What is the Chalice?"
The greaves came loose, and Velar stacked them on the table neatly beside the vambraces.
"I believe," Velar began slowly, "that the Chalice is a symbol of power. It's not so much that the vessel holds the essence of the last great warrior-king, which I doubt it does. That's the sort of legend born of ages. It's the fact that whoever holds the Chalice will have an edge, an advantage in the coming war that everyone knows is inevitable."
"How can it be an advantage?"
Velar shrugged. "Morale. The support of the people who believe the Chalice belongs to the next warrior-king. I could even surmise that it could be used as leverage in some outlandish diplomacy or even outright blackmail. The two are fairly interchangeable."
Ina nodded, a slight smile gracing her lips. She was very pretty. Small boned and lithe.
"These lords you mentioned," he asked. "Did they mention where they were going?"
"No, but I had Kilus, the boy, rifle the packs." She sifted her weight and leaned against the table. "He described a cloak pin, blue shield with the outline of a hawk which is-"
"Eshlex," Velar finished and shook his head. "Four warriors with at least some of the information I have." Another sip of ale. "Eshlex sends four. Aylos sends one. Who wants it more?"
"Perhaps one of you is worth four of them," she said.
"True," he replied, alleviating his arrogance with a wry grin. "Or perhaps it was intended for me to fail."
Ina nodded. "Whoever comes into possession will have to play their hand quickly. Perhaps too quickly. Hence the advantage could be shifted."
"Eshlex is large," Velar commented. "Her forces are spread thin."
Silence reigned for a moment before Velar began working with the buckles of his breast plate. Ina rose from her seat and moved to assist. Her fingers were quick and deft.
"There are other factors as well," Velar began.
"Let the other factors deal with themselves," Ina said. "We are beginning to assume and speculate without substantial fact. That is dangerous."
"You talk like Teacher," Velar laughed.
"I grew up with my brother and sat through more than one lecture given by his teacher."
