“Did you see Mortin?” Stick and Jenka almost asked over each other.
“Not a sign of him, and they didn’t say a peep about him, so I’m guessing he’d be headed over to the clay pit, if he didn’t drown.”
“Are you going to send me after him?” Stick asked, as if he were eagerly up to the uncertain task of riding a half a day alone, in territory thick with bandits and trolls.
Herald waved the Forester’s eagerness off and strode over to Master Kember, who was climbing down off of his horse to walk with him. Herald didn’t seem to need privacy, though, and his words carried to everyone’s ears.
“I’m giving you an option here, Marwick. You can take Rikky and Stick, here, and go to the clay pits and round up some more men and go collect some King’s Justice, or I can send Stick over there to do the same. Either way, them bandits‘ll be getting their due.” He gave Master Kember a solid pat on the back and started to say more, but Rikky spoke for the first time that day.
“I want to go with Stick,” Rikky blurted out hotly. “I want to kill them bastards that got Sol, and since they’re bandits, if we succeed, that’ll be my feat of notability!”
“You’ll do just what I tell you to, son,” Master Kember said flatly.
Rikky had never known who his father was, and when he heard Master Kember call him son like that, he didn’t dare argue with him.
“Take him, Marwick,” Herald urged. “He needs to help put a close to this. Take `em both and go catch them sons of bitches. There ain’t but five of `em, and scruffy as hell, and full of all that swine they rustled. You can catch up to us on the island. Tell you the truth, the four of us can probably make haste with all this behind us.”
“Four?” Master Kember looked around and saw Jenka. He shook his head in the negative. “I told his mother that I’d get him where he was going, Herald. I can’t leave it on you.”
“I’m a fargin King’s Ranger, Marwick,” He pounded at the dingy pale blue star emblem that was embroidered on his vest's left breast. “Jenka is a witness to an incident involving a dragon and trolls. No, two incidents involving dragons after that fargin fire wyrm swooped out of the sky and nearly got him yesterday.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at Master Kember.
“You don’t know his mother,” Master Kember said with a shake of his head. “She said she would shrivel my stones if I let him get hurt.”
“No, sir,” Jenka corrected. “She said she would shrivel your stones if you kept trying to pull the wool over her eyes about how safe this journey would be.”
“See, that’s not a concern, then,” Herald actually grinned at Jenka, but when he turned back to Master Kember his tone and demeanor grew gravely serious. “I really don’t like leaving Mortin’s fate to one of these lads, Kember. They be green as spring grass, but this matter of mudges and trolls has to get to King Blanchard’s ear, and quickly I’m thinking.”
“I’ll do it for Mortin then. That way I’m not abandoning Jenka for revenge,”
“However ya sell yourself on it, Marwick, just save that carrot-headed son of a bitch and round up them bandits. Kill `em if you have to, on my order. Meet us on King’s Island as soon as you can. I’ll be bunked in the west guard house; the one near the Golden Unicorn Inn and Tavern. The druids will be put up there, too.”
“See ya, Jenk,” Rikky said, with a surprising bit of cheer in his voice. “I’ll get one for you!”
“Just don’t get yourself killed, Rikky.” Jenka reached over and shook the young hunter’s hand. “I’ll mention you to the king myself if I get the chance, I swear it.” Jenka shook Stick’s hand as well, but he got down off of his horse and gave Master Kember a heartfelt hug.
“Just be yourself when you’re in front of King Blanchard,” Master Kember told Jenka. “It’s what he respects most. He is a good and just man, and he has always had a deep regard for what your father did for Prince Richard.”
“I’ll make you both proud,” Jenka had tears streaming down his face again, but he didn’t try to hide them because Master Kember’s face was slick with them, too.
After Master Kember, Rikky, and Stick headed eastward from the lake toward the clay pit, Herald went back into the tangle of growth beneath the drooping willow trees and came back with not one, but two horses. One was his, of course, and the other had been Solman’s. He mounted his steed and gave the other animal a long lead. He gave a short warning that they would be riding a little faster than they had been and then spurred off southward down the road. They rode at a steady clip until well after dark, but riding in the night didn’t seem so dangerous now because every so often they passed a well-lit cluster of farm houses, or a cattle ranch that was set back off the ever-widening road. The whole time, the swiftly-moving river flowed alongside them to the right.
Jenka was sleeping in his saddle when they trotted into a cluster of enough buildings to be considered a town. The town was fast asleep, save for a single man sitting watch up on an elevated wooden platform tower. He waved down at Herald, and Herald called out that it was the King’s Ranger’s coming in. Herald led the group straight to a large barn-stable that was set back from the cobbled main thruway. He opened the rusty lock on the door with a key he pulled from a ring at his neck, and opened the gate wide enough that the rest of them rode the horses right in.
“This’ll be the village called Grove,” Herald told them. “Don’t get `customed to it `cause we’ll be leaving afore the sun gets in the sky. Fork some hay into a stall and get some rest. We’ll be treated to some hot oats and jammed bread in just a few hours, but after that, we’re off again. We’ll make Three Forks Stronghold this time tomorrow. There we can rest a day, and get a hot bath and a good night’s shut eye.”
Jenka’s spine was aching from the ride. He was sore in places that he didn’t even know he had, and his mind was numb from contemplating the fate of men among the dragons and the trolls. Once he was off of his horse, he fell asleep before he even lay down.
Late the next night they arrived in Three Forks.
Chapter Seven
Crossing the planked wood bridge over the Strom River, then riding into Three Forks proper was a sight to behold, even in the middle of the night. Especially for Jenka, who had never been out of the foothills. He had never seen so many lanterns, barrel fires, and flaming brands in all his life. He figured that the magnitude of illumination alone kept the wilderness from closing in on the great frontier city. They had passed several groups of riders and a small wagon caravan on the road coming in, but not so many folk as to hint at the true population of Three Forks. The bridge and the main thoroughfare, a cobbled road wide enough for several wagon carts to pass each other abreast, was lined with fancy lantern poles, with the kingdom's spread-winged falcon carved high upon them. People wrapped in light cloaks and tall hats moved about under them, even at this late hour. The road was lined with one and two story buildings pressed together so closely that, in some places, they looked to be one giant, haphazardly-built structure. The only thing that really separated the dwellings and shops from each other was the garish paint combinations that each owner had chosen to decorate their street front.
Off the main road, surrounded by a sufficiently-illuminated, well-cultivated garden of low shrubbery and otherwise wide-open lawn, was the twenty-foot-tall, crenulated, block-and-mortar wall that surrounded Three Forks Stronghold. It was an impressive sight to look upon. Jenka thought he would feel perfectly safe behind those walls. When Herald told him that the Great Wall was twice as tall and three times as thick, Jenka wasn’t sure he could believe it.
The group rode into a tunnel-like portal that sported a score of arrow-slits in its arched ceiling and wall faces. Men uniformed in heavy-but-functional, steel-plated armor, carrying crossbows or pikes, manned the barred iron gates at the other end of the tunnel. One of them recognized Herald. Immediately, the gate clanked noisily upward. In a haze of exhaustion, Jenka followed Linux and the Kingsman who led them from the gates to the s
table, then into the main building. They turned a few corners in the candlelit, oak-paneled lower corridors, then went up a flight of wooden stairs to a lightly furnished room. There, Jenka fell into one of the goose down mattresses, and didn’t wake until the sun was well into the sky.
The city of Three Forks looked that much more fantastic to Jenka in the bright, mid-morning sun. He had been sent out to fetch some things for Linux from the saddle packs, and was slowly making his way to where he thought the stables were. He went into a wooden door near the main gates and found himself being herded up an overly long stairway by two big, well-armed men that he didn’t want to try and squeeze around. He stepped out ahead of them onto the wide, crenulated lane atop the wall, and was blasted with fresh cool air and warm sunlight. It was from that vantage point that Jenka was able to look out over the reasonably-populated clusters of humanity in the streets. Directly below him in the park-like garden, loud and colorful groups of people moved about intently. The men were mostly dressed in functional, but formal-looking, long jackets, or typical rough spun laborers' garments. But some of them wore colored robes in pearly, pastel shades of peach and aqua; colors that Jenka could have never imagined existed. Some wore furred cloaks, and others long, billowing capes. Almost all of the women wore wide, frilly, belled-out dresses, and tall top hats that resembled the chimney stack on the roof of old Master Tolman’s forge. At least the cleaner looking ladies did. Some of the women wore plain, rough spun dresses and were trying to sell their wares, or themselves, to the people who would stop and give them a listen. One woman was dressed in almost nothing, revealing her heavy, well-shaped breasts, save for the nipples, and even they dimpled the slight bit of fabric covering them so that nothing was left to the imagination. Jenka’s eyes were inadvertently following her, when a gruff man with the crimson shield of the Walguard embroidered on his armored vest clasped a meaty hand on his shoulder.
“What business do you have up here on the wall, boy?” the Walguard asked rhetorically. “I never seen you before. Who are you?”
“My name is Jenka De Swasso,” he answered hesitantly. “I’m here with a King’s Ranger named Herald. I’m supposed to be fetching some things from our saddle packs, but I got lost.”
“Aye,” the Walguard laughed. “You got lost in a place with a hawk’s eye view of one of the most fascinating whores in all of Three Forks.” He squeezed Jenka’s shoulder in a brotherly manner. “The stables are back down those stairs and a few hundred paces down the wall, that way, at ground level.” He pointed. “You’d best be getting along, Forester. I heard tell that old bastard Herald will nick your ear with his dagger if you dally too much. But if you want to take that gal for a romp later, you can find her at the Brew’n House Tavern.” He laughed at Jenka’s appalled expression. “Bring silver if you go, boy. That en't no copper cunny there.”
Jenka was glad that he wasn’t running an errand for Herald, and he was more than a little proud over the Walguard’s assumption that he was an actual Forester. Even though he knew what a whore was, he had never actually considered paying for company. He knew he had dallied too much, though, so he hurried back down the stairs and ran all the way to the stables.
When he returned with the leather satchel Linux had requested, he was surprised to find Zahrellion waiting in their room. Her long, white hair was wet and heavy, causing it to hang in clumps around her pretty face. Her cheeks were rosy and pink from the scrubbing she had just given them. She looked fresh and lovely, and was dressed in clean, tan-and-gray robes.
Jenka imagined that, under her gown, she didn’t quite have the curves that the naked street-walker he had just seen had, but she was shapely enough for his taste. He was far too shy and inexperienced to say anything about it, though. He and Dalia, the baker’s daughter back in Crag, had spent many a night exploring each other, but they had never actually done the deed. Even having heard Zahrellion confess that he had stirred something inside her didn’t give him enough courage to voice his attraction. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, and he began looking around the room nervously. He noticed, for the first time, that Linux was nowhere to be seen.
“He went downstairs to the bathhouse,” she answered his question before he had a chance to ask it. “I think you should probably go have a soak, too, and have the launderer there wash your clothes. I can smell you from here.”
“What are we going to do, Zah?” Jenka ignored her comment. “How are we going to convince King Blanchard about the mudged and the trolls?”
“So you’re seeing the right side of things, then?” She cocked her head and met Jenka’s gaze and was pleased with what she saw there. “We won’t have to convince him about the trolls.” Her tone grew serious. “I was going to wait until you were cleaned up to tell you this, but Linux has shared a dream with a member of our sect back at the temple. The trolls have already started coming down out of the mountains in earnest.”
“How did he…” Jenka started to ask, but knew that he couldn’t possibly understand any answer she might give beyond the obvious. “No. Where are they coming down? Crag? Is my mother safe?”
“Lemmy was left to watch over her, so I’m hoping that she is safe. We don’t know yet what passes and valleys the trolls may be using.” She sat down hard on Linux' bed, which was made. Jenka’s woolen blanket was still a rumpled mess on his disheveled mattress, just as he had left it. After noticing this, Zah took the time to flutter it out and smooth the results a little bit.
“Thank you,” Jenka smiled, despite the new knot of worry that had just bunched up in his gut. “So how are we going to get King Blanchard to rescind the bounty on dragon heads and take up sides with them against the trolls?”
“According to Linux, the trolls number in the thousands, and that alone will give the king reason to consider the alliance. I just hope none of the stupid mudge attack between now and the time we get our audience with him.” She sat back on Linux' bed with a huff. “If that happens, he may never listen.”
“My father died saving Prince Richard from a troll attack,” Jenka said, with a little fire in his voice. “If I demand to be heard, I don’t think he will refuse me.”
“You’ll end up in the dungeons with the ravers if you so much as speak out of line to your narrow-minded king.”
“No. You’re wrong about that.” Jenka went on. “Master Kember, my father, and two other men waded right into a pack of trolls to save the crown prince, and right in front of King Blanchard’s eyes. I don’t see how he could ignore both of us.”
“Well, Master Kember isn’t here, and just because you get the king to listen to you doesn’t mean he will care what we have to say.” She forced a smile, despite herself. “Go to the bathhouses and have a soak, Jenka. By the time you’re done we might know a good deal more. The Stronghold’s Spell Master is preparing a potion for Linux that will allow him to have a more extended sharing of thoughts with our peer back at the temple. I’ll make sure that he asks about Crag.”
“Thank you.” Jenka sighed, trying to ignore the growing worry over his mother. “I hope Jade is all right, and Mortin, too. I think we would be better-received if Master Kember was with us when we have our audience, though.”
“I cannot disagree with you.” Zah rose and, staying well clear of Jenka’s filth, she eased around him and opened the door. “Go bathe, and clear your mind of it all for a little while. If things don’t look too bad, then maybe later we can venture out into Three Forks and look around.” With that, she left him, and after a few whiffs at his own armpits, Jenka headed immediately down to bathe.
The water was almost scalding hot, and the room thick with steam. The launderer took Jenka’s garments and promised that they would be cleaned, dried, and repaired within the turn of a glass. Jenka had put a handful of the coppers he had been saving into a small drawstring pouch around his neck before he left Crag. He was glad for that because he was certain the service wasn’t free.
The floor of the bathhouse was slick, wet w
ood planking, and the tubs were inset into the floor like little, semi-private pits. Even after he was in one of them, soaking and scrubbing with the provided horse brush and soap, Jenka couldn’t tell if they were individual tubs, or if it was one big tub with a multi-holed floor built over it. Either way, it felt heavenly to have the stress and soreness of several hard days melted away from his flesh. He had no idea when he would get another chance to wash himself, so he took advantage. He took the time to scrub his hair, and even behind his ears, like his mother had done when he was little. Then he lay back and floated in the water, as if he were floating through the sky inside some hot, steamy cloud.
When he woke, he knew immediately that he had been asleep for some time, because the parts of his flesh that didn’t feel boiled felt as if it they had been pickled. He found his clothes folded nicely in the provided changing room. Despite being a little cooked, he felt fresh and clean after he dressed. He hoped Linux gave them acceptable news, because he really wanted to go out into Three Forks with Zah and take in the sights.
His wish was granted. So far, the trolls were coming out of the mountains west of the Strom River, out in the wilds, where few men had tried to settle. But there was bad news, too. Weston was a small community of herders and farmers out that way, and it was believed that the village had already been lost. Linux had learned that bands of trolls, some as large as fifty strong, were coming south. They were crossing the Strom River, where the reservoir backs up and floods the flatlands just north of Demon's Lake. That meant that Master Kember’s group, as well as the men working the clay pits, were all in grave danger. It also meant that Crag, Kingsmen’s Keep, Swinerd’s farm, and the druids' deep, mountain temple were all about to be cut off from the kingdom.
Herald knew that his brother’s hog farm would probably end up being a savaged feeding ground for the trolls, so he wasted no time hiring a crew of mercenaries to ride that way and help see his brother and his family south, or at least up to Kingsmen’s Keep. Small groups of Walguard and King’s Rangers alike were being sent north to investigate the claims Linux was making, all on Herald’s word that Linux could be trusted. Herald had played in all his favors to get that much done. Commander Corda was sympathetic but practical, and refused to send the bulk of the troops stationed at Three Forks north without solid evidence that the trolls were attacking.
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