The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path

by Douglas Van Dyke

  Katressa’s long hair tumbled free as Trestan breathed a sigh of relief. He continued to feign sleep. Cat seemed unaware of his observation as she tiptoed over to her bedside. She dropped the cloak from around her shoulders, thus revealing she wore different clothes than earlier that evening. The chemise and pantaloons that made up her undergarments were all she wore under the dark cloak. He quietly watched as she went over to her packs and dug out items in the dark. Though it was hard for Trestan to see much more than outlines, he knew her elven blood would allow her to see in that darkness very well. She turned and he saw her from a profile view, as she seemed to be fidgeting with her top. Cat suddenly reached down and pulled her top off. For a moment, Trestan had a view of her outline that previously he could have only imagined. He had that one instant where he saw her feminine curves outlined in the dim light, and it engraved a wonderful image upon his memory he would always treasure.

  He closed his eyes. As much as any man would have liked to watch Cat at that moment, the smith had too much respect for her to sneak such a peek. With his eyes closed, he trained his ears on every sound and movement. He could hear a pair of heavy boots moving somewhere downstairs, but he concentrated on the sounds across the room. Clothes and packs made soft rustling noises. Cat occasionally breathed different, adding slight grunts and groans. The young man realized she wasn’t simply getting undressed and slipping into bed…she was dressing in something different. He cracked open his eyelids. Cat stood nearly fully dressed in her black adventuring leathers, her spare stuff packed away like she was ready to travel. He watched as she belted on the silver rapier. She slung crossbow over shoulder, her bolt quivers strapped to her as usual. She paused for a moment, wearing or carrying all her equipment, beside an empty mattress. She gazed over the sleeping occupants of the room, hesitation apparent in her actions.

  Trestan raised his head and shoulders a bit from the bed. Cat raised a single finger to her lips to signal Trestan he should not wake the others. The half-elf stepped lightly to his bedside and kneeled to put their faces close. She asked him, “How long have you been awake, my friend?”

  Seeing her unspoken question, Trestan answered, “I closed my eyes, I swear.”

  Cat grinned and trusted the answer, though Trestan imagined she might be blushing. She put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “I know this must look odd. You must get your sleep. We move again in the morning.”

  The human looked her with new understanding. Even as he spoke his next words, he heard the noise of those same heavy boots walking the hallway on their floor of the inn. “Then you found out something? If we are moving, you must know where we need to look.”

  Katressa nodded again. She tilted her head to indicate the sound of those heavy boots. “The dwarf, Salgor, seems to have found their trail. That sounds like him heading to his room. I heard him approach the inn, at which point I hastily threw on my cloak and went out the door to talk to him. He found an interesting story regarding one of the ranches outside town. In the morning, you all will grab a quick but sustaining breakfast and he’ll lead you in the right direction.”

  She started to rise, but Trestan grabbed her arm softly, “But where are you going?”

  She leaned close to his ear, “I’m not leaving my horse behind. It’s time to reclaim my property. Worry not about anything right now, Trestan. You should get your sleep, for you will need it before a very boisterous dwarf bangs on this door in the morning. Sleep well.”

  Satisfied, he released his gentle grip on her arm. She rose and went to the door. He lay in bed watching her depart. Once she was through the door, she used whatever skills and tools she had to reset the draw bolt from outside in the hallway. The young man watched the bolt settle into place. Trestan wondered how Jareth would have felt about his close friendship with someone who displayed such thieving prowess. His mentor had always treated everyone fairly, however, and surely the old man would have recognized the good in her heart and her willingness to risk all to help others.

  Trestan put his head on his pillow and tried to force himself to sleep. The heavy dwarven footsteps in the hallway receded to the point where he could no longer hear their owner. For a long time he listened to the other night sounds: the drizzle of rain hitting the roof, the breathing of the gnome, and the snoring of some unknown man next door. The young smith was too excited to go to sleep as of yet, but he did his best to relax.

  A new sound came to his ears. Straining to sort it out from the other night sounds, he found it was coming from the general direction he had last heard the dwarf’s heavy boots. It was very unclear at first, and intermittent. The sound resembled that of two smooth stones being rubbed across each other. The slow, rhythmic grinding noise continued until Trestan realized with a start what it was. At the realization, the young human didn’t rest very well for the remainder of that night.

  The sound was that of a sharpening stone, slowly being dragged across an axe blade to hone it for an upcoming battle.

  CHAPTER 8

  They awoke to a sound that resembled a battering ram smashing a castle’s gates, though it was only a dwarf banging on their door. “Get your lazy carcasses out o’ those beds! You can rest as long as you want when death claims you! We got that cowardly elf caster to go after, and you can bet he’s already finished his breakfast!”

  Petrow and Mel almost fell out of their beds as the tumult seemed to shake the room. Trestan rolled out of his bed in a panic, making an attempt to grab his sword in his sleepy state. Mel sputtered, “What? What? Who is that? More goblins?”

  Listening to the sudden ruckus inside the room, Salgor was confident he had sufficiently awakened the sleeping group. He yelled through the door one last time. “Me and my full belly will be waiting for you downstairs. Oh, and I’m not easily forgetting that you just called me a goblin, ‘Bell-boy’, so watch that mouth o’ yours from here out.”

  Over the sound of Petrow’s yawning and Mel’s excited exclamations, Trestan heard the heavy dwarven boots recede down the hall. The young smith once again felt the fool, laying spread out in a tumbled heap on the floor. Even as he tried to sort himself upright, his companions were firing away with questions at their rude awakening and Cat’s absence. Trestan dressed, sharing the events of the previous night as he went. Petrow and Mel showered him with questions. Trestan replied they’d have to ask Salgor what clues he found.

  Mel received the news as if someone mentioned a birthday party. He was all smiles as he packed his things. Petrow dressed in his more conservative road clothes: garments that were still rather colorful compared to what most might consider good taste. Together, the three packed their belongings and belted on weapons. Petrow had a holster for each axe. The woodcutter’s axe strapped on to his back, but the waraxe hung from his belt. Mel fussed and straightened his many pouches and straps, making each one accessible. Trestan used Petrow’s help to put on his armor. The young smith knew he had better get prepared for the unknown and suit up for protection. Trestan needed to get used to the weight. All three headed down to the inn’s common room when they were ready.

  Salgor Bandago stood at the bar alone, drinking a pint of ale. On his back he still wore the oversized backpack. Axe and mace hung from his belt, while the shield rested against the bar near him. At the closest table sat three meager plates of eggs and meat. The three sat down to eat, glancing at the dwarf in disappointment over the size of their portions. The dwarf sneered at them, even as trickles of ale dripped down his braided beard. “Be happy I’m letting you eat. It’s not much but that is all you really need. Nay warriors can run too far or fight too well on a bulging stomach. I fixed it up only because you needed a little muscle on those arms.”

  Trestan and Petrow were muscular by human standards from the hard work done during their lives. Their biceps were small in comparison to the dwarf’s arms. Trestan avoided comments, especially since off to the side he could see the broken table from last night’s conversation. The dwarf continued scowling and s
peaking as they poked at their food. “I’m eager to get on the road. The sooner we get moving the better, on behalf o’ our cause and my temper. I have a score to settle with that mage. A dwarf doesn’t like an enemy to get the best o’ him and live to boast about it.”

  They ate quickly under the dwarf’s watching eyes. Salgor emptied the pint and slammed it down on the bar when they were ready to leave. Mel’s stomach grumbled. They spoke little as they walked out of the bar. Trestan and Petrow felt intimidated about discussing anything in front of the dwarf. Mel simply observed Salgor in quiet fascination, reflecting his happiness at seeing a dwarven face. Salgor was not one for small talk. The dwarf gestured and pointed more than he spoke.

  They left the bar and turned north in silence. The humans and gnome retraced the route that brought them into town. Salgor didn’t go all the way back to the north guard gate before turning eastward on a new street. After walking down a rather wide street containing warehouses, they arrived at the start of the long ramp that wound its way down to sea level. They marched down the twisting wagonway, avoiding merchants and carts traveling to and from the harbor below. The ramp offered their best view of the waterfall. They looked in awe as it cascaded down a very long drop, with even smaller falls and drop-offs around the cliff’s side. It was a long walk to reach the bottom of the ramp, partly due to the winding nature of the wagonway.

  Trestan and Petrow assumed their destination to be the harbor or one of the many shipping vessels moored there. At the bottom of the ramp, Salgor turned away from the harbor in a generally northern direction again. The line of buildings ended at another guard post. This one stood larger and older than the one they had seen on the road. They passed by it without incident, following a trail that wound its way through a growth of tall brush. The simple dirt trail featured no more than wagon ruts and trampled grass. Mel started talking again: asking about the harbor, comments on the local flowers, and questions about some of the outlying farms and ranches.

  Salgor finally responded to one of Mel’s statements with an irritated tone. Even as he spoke, he still continued marching at a fast pace. His heavy boots seemed bent on slamming any loose pebbles deep into the dirt and mud as he went. “I work bars and I fight monsters. I’ve only lived here less than a year, so don’t think o’ me as a tour guide!”

  Mel actually smiled and looked blessed to have finally gotten some words out of the dwarf, “You seem to know where you are headed. I just assumed you knew this area well.”

  The dwarf sighed, “Every now and then someone my size has to get some space away from a human town. A walk can do the soul good and builds the leg muscles. During my time here, I happened to meet several locals in the bar and I’ve gotten to visit some out at their homes.”

  Mel gave some insight then, “And one of those locals saw or heard something? Ooh, ooh, I want to know!”

  Salgor scowled at the gnome, and not for the first time, “I will tell you all when Katressa rejoins us. I’d rather say things once and not repeat myself. I didn’t tell her the whole story, but I’m certain we are on the right path.”

  Some time passed before they arrived at a small crossroads between trails. Wagon ruts intersected outside of a visible farmhouse. Salgor stopped and slowly scanned the area around them. Low hills and some woods marked the landscape, though it was mostly rather open. To their backs they could see the ridge rising up to the cliff upon which Barkan’s Crossing rested. They figured they were a good couple miles northeast of the town.

  Mel looked towards the distant farmhouse, “Are we there yet?”

  Salgor bellowed, “Aye!”

  Mel took a step back, surprised at the answer and the dwarf’s booming voice. He beamed a smile and looked at the house. “They are holed up in there eh? Hmm, what kind of spell to prepare? Maybe if I do a bit of…wait a moment, if they are here why are we standing in the open?”

  Salgor shook his head slowly, “I didn’t say they were here. This is merely the place where we have to be.”

  Trestan and Petrow looked around to get a better perspective on their surroundings. They saw no other homes within sight, and there was no one else using the trails. Both men did notice something odd in the thick weeds near the intersection. An overgrowth of vines covered the base of an ancient, broken statue. Pieces of the stone figure lay in the tall grass nearby. Salgor took off his large backpack and set it on the path. He opened up a flap in the side to reveal a few small ale casks. He reached within but pulled out a bottle instead. Popping the cork, he leaned against his pack and started to drink. Trestan and Petrow took the cue to sit down and take a break from walking. Mel was scratching his head.

  Salgor took another swig from the bottle and enjoyed the taste as it burned down his throat. At Petrow’s look, he handed the container to the young man and offered a drink. The slightly elder human took it, and thanked the dwarf with a nod. He bravely took a swig…and promptly made a face. He coughed and turned a red shade as he tried to hand the bottle back to the dwarf. Salgor laughed, a deep, rumbling, belly laugh that showed a line of yellow teeth, minus one. “Those humans can’t make a drink that kicks like dwarven whiskey! You’re a strong lad to be sitting upright after that gulp.”

  He set the bottle away as Petrow recovered. The older human got out his canteen to wash out the taste. Mel chuckled, having firsthand tried a similar drink in younger days. Salgor still grinned as he spoke. “This is the rendezvous spot with Katressa. I expect we still have a march to go, though I don’t know exactly where they are. I do know they turned northeast and went up the coastline for whatever reason. For more than that you will have to wait for your friend to get here.”

  * * * * *

  When horse and rider came within sight, she rode in from the northeast. The dark leather clothes gave her away at a distance. Salgor shouldered his bulging pack easily, and the rest picked up their packs as well to meet her. The young men had been expecting to see Cat riding in from the western road. The half-elf dismounted when they got close. She was dressed as armored and ready as she could be. Cat even wore her helm, and once again had a crossbow on her back and a spare on her horse. It felt good to rescue one kidnap victim of the other band, and one that looked like it had been treated well. Cat’s horse bore no ill marks. The presence of the rancher-claimed horse raised some questions in Trestan’s mind, but he would try to get them answered privately with Cat.

  Salgor greeted her, “Figured you might be riding up ahead to scout. I hoped you were planning on saving some action for the rest o’ the group here. We certainly gave you a good head start. You would think the races that don’t have as much longevity wouldn’t spend so much time sleeping, but they like their beds.”

  Cat looked the dwarf up and down. Her green eyes studied the dwarf’s armaments and the eagerness of battle. Trestan spotted a frown at the corners of her mouth, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. She had hoped to sneak in and steal the noble, and then get away from trouble. The dwarf, carrying shield and heavy weapons, displayed no intention of letting the elf get away without a fight. The raven-haired adventuress sighed and responded to Salgor’s words. “It was still dark when I rode away from the ranch. You gave me good directions to the statue here, but I figured I would have a lot of time on my hands waiting. A little tour through the countryside wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t find anything suspicious.”

  Salgor nodded, “I know the trails a bit further out, but after that I will be giving my best guesses as well. All I know so far is a general direction. They came close to Barkan’s Crossing, and maybe some of their accomplices entered it, but the elf and minotaur turned northeast up the coast.”

  They resumed their walk up the trail that Cat had just traveled. She led her horse, content to walk alongside her companions. It wasn’t long before the adventuress offered the saddle to Mel if he wanted a ride. Though Mel and Salgor both had short legs, the dwarf moved along at a pace that had Mel struggling. The gnome accepted the offer, despite trepidation at the size o
f the horse. Soon he rode easily on its back, as the other four marched on. Mel voiced delight of the horse ride, as long as the horse didn’t do anything unexpected.

  As they went, Salgor divulged what he had learned the previous night. His deep voice set the pace as they walked, “I know a rancher up this path. He and his hired hands usually rotate nights that they visit the pub. None of them were present last night, but a neighbor was. The neighbor told me something had them scared out at their ranch, even had them holed up like they were worried about being attacked by something. Last night I ran out here and had a talk with him.”

  Salgor pointed up ahead to a cattle ranch. Trestan looked and saw none of the cattle were outside, nor was anyone visible. There were lowland gullies and small woods around the area. “I don’t think we have reason to stop, but this is what he told me. One of their ranch hands thought he saw a bull’s horns down in the wooded areas outside the fence. They had some animals acting strange too. Dogs were barking, cows and horses acted skittish, and they saw deer running scared. They didn’t put it all together at once, nor really suspect any danger. Anyways two o’ them went down into a wooded gully to retrieve what they thought was an escaped bull.”

  The dwarf shook his head sadly, “Those poor boys never were prepared for what they would find. Later that afternoon someone saw a smoke trail rising from those same woods. The rest o’ the ranchers realized the other two were still missing, and by that time they confirmed they weren’t missing any o’ the bulls from their ranch. A group of them set out to take care o’ the fire and see what was going on down there. They found the first two boys…what was left o’ them. One was sliced into two pieces; the other was a burning pile o’ bones. A lot o’ things could slice a man or burn, but not too many o’ them could also be mistaken for a bull in the woods. I’d say the elf’s group is trying to sneak off in a new direction.”