Apprentice Swordceror

by Chris Hollaway

  “All I have is this.” Kevon said.

  “That’ll do.” snapped the innkeeper as his hand darted out for the pearl.

  “Wait!” Kevon shouted, echoed by another voice. He had missed the arrival of another man, dressed in simple but expensive looking clothing, and a young woman that Kevon hoped was the man’s daughter.

  The innkeeper jumped back as if stung.

  The newcomer produced two silver coins from a pocket with a small flourish and tossed them onto the table by the innkeeper.

  “Please ready this young man’s room and meal. And ours as well, if you please.” he said in an even tone left no room for argument.

  The innkeeper glared for a moment, snatched up the coins, and rushed off to the kitchen.

  “You’re right to be wary of the businessmen around Kron, young man.” the man said, clapping a hand on Kevon’s shoulder. “Their only chance for profit is from those passing through.” The man glanced at the common room’s only window and shivered slightly. “Sun’s almost down. Won’t you join us…?” He paused.

  “Uh, Kevon, sir. And thank you. I’m not imposing, am I?” Kevon asked meekly.

  “Not at all.” The newcomer gestured emphatically to a table next to the man in the corner. He paused for a moment. “You don’t mind if young Kevon joins us, do you Marelle?”

  The young woman’s eyes raised and her gaze fixed on Kevon for a moment. Her clear, bright, emerald irises contrasted with her long, raven hair, and Kevon found himself unable to move as she examined him. Kevon’s throat constricted and he fought the urge to look away.

  Marelle’s eyes narrowed slightly and a smile curled the edges of her mouth.

  “Of course not, father.” Marelle said softly.

  Her voice made the hair on Kevon’s neck stand on end. Her tone and accent were all at once familiar and exotic. A lump formed in his throat, and Kevon had to swallow once before moving to the table.

  Kevon had been raised with enough manners to know to wait until the lady was seated before seating himself. This earned him another smile from Marelle, a warmer one, but no more comforting.

  “Forgive me, Kevon.” the man began, turning in his chair to address the nervous youth. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Rhulcan, a trader from Eastport, and this is my daughter Marelle.” He paused for a moment. “What brings you to this far end of the Realm, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “It was the first decent place to rest on my way out of the North Valley.” Kevon replied.

  Rhulcan peered at Kevon. “We may have passed you on our way out of Laston. I thought you looked a bit familiar.” The Merchant’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, what is a boy from a backwater town like Laston doing flashing a bauble like that in a run-down inn like this?”

  Kevon’s mind raced. Without his new robes, he dared not identify himself as a Mage. Apprentices were not allowed to travel unsupervised, in addition to being forbidden from using their Arts when not training.

  “Well,” Kevon began, “It’s my first time out of the valley. The pearl is the only thing of value I really have, aside from my horse.”

  “You really must be more careful than that.” Rhulcan laughed.

  Someone from the kitchen brought out three mugs of ale and placed them in the center of the table, leaving without a word. Kevon could not tell if it was a man or woman, the hair was cropped short and the rough green tunic was not fitted well enough to give any hints.

  Rhulcan took a mug and gestured for Kevon and Marelle to do the same. After all had taken a few drinks, Rhulcan began to speak again.

  “I was just in Laston,” he said, voice heavy with disappointment. “I saw no sign of wealth as you have here. Is it an heirloom, perhaps?”

  “No,” Kevon said, pausing to think. “It’s payment. Rather, overpayment, for services rendered, and a task yet to be done. One of the reasons I left the valley.”

  “It must be a task of some great import,” Rhulcan said quietly, “to command such a fee.”

  “Not really,” Kevon admitted. “If I’d checked to see what the payment was before I left, I’d have probably refused it.”

  “A noble lad as well!” Rhulcan raised his mug quickly, sloshing a bit of ale onto the table. “What do you think of his story, Carlo?”

  The man at the table beside them, silent until now, grinned in amusement. “There’s more to it, likely.” Carlo took another pull from his mug. “But he’s not lying.”

  “Splendid!” Rhulcan cried, slapping the table. “Now, perhaps we can do some business.”

  The innkeeper and another server arrived with plates of food for the four of them. The plain earthenware dishes were filled with thick steaks slathered with gravy, a steaming ear of corn, and a large slice of freshly baked bread.

  “Business?” Kevon asked as soon as the innkeeper had vanished back into the kitchen. “What kind of business?”

  The innkeeper and three kitchen maids, all dressed in the same green tunics, emerged from the kitchen carrying steaming bowls of stew.

  “Later.” Rhulcan said with a wave of his hand, and began to eat.

  Kevon watched the hurried activity of the servers with mild fascination. They moved quickly about in and out of the kitchen until there were six bowls of stew and six mugs of ale on each of the five remaining tables in the common area.

  Kevon had barely touched his meal when through the front doors of the inn, a group of people in the same cut tunics as the serving maids streamed their way in to crowd around the tables and eat. Some, mostly the older ones sat, but the rest stood. The whole lot of them made less noise than a few boisterous lads Kevon knew that frequented the single inn in Laston.

  The three kitchen maids came out and joined the newcomers. Kevon noticed that in addition to green tunics, some of the people wore brown ones, but those were the only two colors they wore.

  Slowly, as they finished, the newcomers abandoned their tables and made their way back in groups to the sleeping quarters.

  Kevon’s eyes widened as the second clump of these new ‘customers’ filed back. “How many rooms does this place have?” he asked Rhulcan.

  The Merchant chuckled under his breath. “Six. But don’t worry. The farmerfolk sleep ten to a room. Three rooms are prepared for this lot, and the remaining three are ours.” Rhulcan finished his ale. “Marelle and I will be outside getting some air. When you’ve finished, will you join us?” he asked Kevon, as if the answer were a foregone conclusion.

  “Certainly.” Kevon said. “As soon as I…” The smell of dirt and sweat finally registered in Kevon’s mind, and the idea of eating didn’t seem as appetizing as it had before. He was still very hungry though. He stood as Rhulcan and Marelle rose to leave.

  As Carlo followed the pair out the front of the inn, Kevon sat and sized up the remaining food on his plate. He took a large swallow of ale and sighed. Breathing through his mouth, he continued to eat.

  Kevon emerged from the inn full and lightheaded. He wasn’t sure if it was from the ale or the way he’d been breathing because of the atmosphere in the common room. He was not about to complain though, now that he was outside in the freshening breeze.

  Rhulcan and Marelle sat talking on a rough bench near the corner of the inn. Carlo sat near the entrance to the stables, half-watching the pair as he cleaned and cared for a longsword.

  Marelle noticed Kevon first, and stopped talking to flash him one of her disconcerting smiles. Kevon started over to join the trader and his daughter when Rhulcan closed and fastened the ledger he had been studying.

  “You mentioned some business earlier?” Kevon asked Rhulcan.

  “Ah. Yes.” the trader said, standing and handing the closed ledger to Marelle. “That pearl you showed the innkeeper earlier. Might I see it?”

  Kevon nodded and pulled the pouch from his pocket. He dumped the pearl into his hand and gave it to Rhulcan.

  The Merchant glanced at it quickly and rolled it around in his hand. He rubbed it
against his front teeth and cleaned it gently with the hem of his tunic. He then pulled a small clear disc that hung from a leather strap from a tunic pocket and peered through it intently for a few seconds.

  “It is a very nice specimen.” Rhulcan concluded, handing the pearl back to Kevon and putting the disc back in its pocket. “Would you be interested in selling it?”

  “Since I have nothing else of value, and no money,” Kevon answered, “I think I have to sell it.”

  “All right then,” Rhulcan paused, tilted his head in contemplation for a few moments. “Would you take twenty gold pieces for it?”

  Kevon suddenly felt a bit more lightheaded. Before today, he had only seen one silver piece in his life. Now he was eating meals and staying in a room that cost two silver. And he was being offered twenty gold to sell something he really had no other use for!

  “I, uh,” Kevon began, and then noticed the glare that Marelle was directing toward her father. “I’m sorry, but is something wrong?”

  “Father.” Marelle stated flatly.

  “Dear, it’s more than he would get for it anywhere around here,” Rhulcan said, not meeting her gaze. “And enough for ten lads his age to entertain themselves with!”

  “Father.” Marelle repeated, the intensity in her voice growing.

  “Marelle.” Rhulcan’s gruff response made the girl flinch. “He’ll get no better offer within five hundred miles of here.”

  “Father!” Marelle continued, scolding. “I don’t know exactly how much that thing is worth, but I would guess twice what you’re offering him!”

  “If I had twice what I’m offering him, I would offer it.” Rhulcan sighed. “But I do not.” The Merchant turned to Kevon, but did not look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, lad. I can’t give you the price it would fetch in Eastport.”

  “So, Eastport would be the best place to sell it?” asked Kevon.

  “Aye. It’s the largest center of commerce in Kærtis.” Rhulcan looked Kevon in the eye. “Oh, you might get a better offer from a noble in the Inner Cities, but you’d more likely than not get a knife in your back before you could spend a copper of it.”

  “All right then. That’s where I’ll go.” Kevon decided.

  “Just like that?” Marelle asked, laughter in her eyes. “You decide to cross the Realm on a whim?”

  “Sure.” Kevon said. “Since I’ve never been anywhere, one place is as good as another, I suppose.”

  Rhulcan’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you have an important errand to run?” he asked. “The errand the pearl is payment for?”

  “Yes,” Kevon answered. “But there’s no hurry as long as it gets done some time.”

  “You’ll come with us, then.” Marelle said. “It’s perfect.”

  “How is that perfect?” argued Rhulcan. “We’ve just come from Eastport, and it’ll be half the year before we return there.”

  “Simple. We turn back, stop in Elburg on the way and buy those wooden carvings you didn’t want to load the wagon down with so early on in the circuit.” Marelle explained. “We shall need to pay Kevon’s expenses on the way, but if you broker the sale of the pearl once we reach Eastport…”

  The Merchant’s puzzled look warmed into a smile of understanding. “He could reimburse us, and with a modest commission…”

  “Set by Marelle.” Kevon interrupted, bringing an even larger smile to the young lady’s face. Even Carlo, who had walked over to join them, grunted in amusement,

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Rhulcan acceded. “Just think. That’s almost a year’s profit in just over a season. Brilliant!”

  Marelle reddened slightly. “We’d best turn in. We have an early start in the morning.” She rose, and Kevon stepped aside so she and her father could return to the inn.

  A few moments and an awkward silence after the pair disappeared into the inn, Kevon mumbled a hasty “Goodnight” and followed as well.

  Carlo chuckled softly. “This should be interesting.”

  Chapter 7

  During breakfast, Marelle explained that the territory north of the road was not good farmland and was not claimed by Kron. They could camp and hunt on that side if needed, but there were inns at regular intervals to house workers during the growing seasons. If they set a brisk pace, they would not need to camp until they left the area. After breakfast, the group set out on the eastern fork of the road.

  Kevon kept his mare close to the wagon, and frequently conversed with the Merchant and his daughter. He asked many questions, eager to learn about the world that had been just outside his doorstep all along.

  “What are the cities like?” Kevon asked. “Do they build houses on top of other houses? How do you remember everyone’s names?”

  Life in Laston was simple. You lived mostly on what you made or caught with your own hands or wits. Everything you learned was to further that end. Outside the North Valley, things were different. Marelle and her father were not surprised at the amount of things Kevon did not know, but Marelle in particular seemed to delight in seeing Kevon’s reaction to things as he learned them.

  “Father remembers everyone he trades with…” Marelle told Kevon as they sat talking after their evening meal. “I can’t do it. I have to cheat.” Marelle grinned at Kevon’s shocked expression, and waved her ledger at him. “I write them down in this. I re-read my notes on a town before we get back to it.”

  The trip wore on, and Kevon began to understand that Laston was a place that people went to escape. Bad memories, harsh realities, and most other troubles would seem to disappear in such a secluded and sometimes harsh place to live.

  As the days passed, Kevon spent more and more time listening to Marelle tell stories about the histories of the Realms. They were now at peace, but the last war had ended about two years ago.

  Each human Realm now hosted representatives from each of the seven other Realms. Each Realm granted these ‘Councils of Representatives’ a small amount of influence in the Realm that hosted them. Merchants like Marelle and Rhulcan were prospering as never before because of the increased flow of goods between Realms.

  Kevon learned that the route Rhulcan usually took led around the edges of the Realm one way or the other, nearing the Southern Frontier around the midpoint of the circuit. Rhulcan made most of his money carting arms and supplies between cities and outposts on that leg of the journey, waiting until he was well on his way back to Eastport before acquiring art or other luxury goods.

  One of the things that interested Kevon the most was news of the other races. He knew that the Orcs were an ever-present threat to the south, but he had heard little more than that. The other races that were not overtly hostile to man did not seem to concern anyone in Laston, and were seldom discussed. Kevon had only recently been able to find vague mentionings of them in Master Holten’s library,

  Marelle told him that a good deal of the Elves had settled on islands to the east, and she occasionally saw them on the streets in Eastport. Dwarves and Gnomes had migrated to the northern end of Purlon; most of them lived in caves on the other side of the Lhurridge Range that loomed close on their left. While not hostile to humans, Dwarves did not like men, and barely tolerated the Gnomes that had settled near their territories.

  One of the things Kevon learned that surprised him the most was the reason his pearl would fetch such a good price in Eastport. A few Merchants in the city represented the interests of the Myrnar, the sea-folk. Though the Myrnar needed nothing the seas could not provide, they enjoyed seeing treasures of the sea returned to it. And with as many ships to salvage as had been lost over the years, they could afford to pay a good price.

  On the evening of their fourth day of travel, the group lodged at an inn at another crossroads. Kevon noticed that the farmed land cut sharply to the south now, and they would soon be leaving the area influenced by Kron. The road still crowded close to the foothills of the Lhurridges, almost arrow-straight to the southeast.

  After dinner, Kevon and Marelle sat outs
ide while Rhulcan haggled with the innkeeper for extra provisions, and Carlo ran through his evening routines of inspecting his equipment and practicing with his sword. Kevon was beginning to notice that the older man’s movements were not flashy or grandiose, but simple, and surprisingly brief. The way Carlo executed them, however, led Kevon to believe he had been practicing and no doubt utilizing these techniques for years. The half-hour workout raised no more sweat on Carlo’s brow than did the midday sun.

  “So, how did the war end?” Kevon asked Marelle, as Carlo finished his sword practice and sat by the stables to clean and care for the blade.

  “It’s… hard to know.” Marelle said, after a moment of contemplation. “There are a few differing accounts.”

  Kevon scratched his head. He could understand how a small thing could be seen differently by a few people, but a war?

  “The last battle was chaotic, in any telling,” Marelle continued, a frown underlining her usually cheerful features. “The armies of Kærtis had crossed the seas to take the battle back to the source of the war, to Alcron. Although our forces were divided, as always, with the defense of the Southern Frontier from the Orcs, many of our finest commanders and veteran troops were sent so that the campaign would be brought to a swift end.” Marelle’s voice lowered and her eyes narrowed. “Several Magi accompanied the troops as well, angry that the war had taken their towers and guildhalls in its wake.”

  Kevon stared at her dumbly for a moment, his mouth suddenly dry. “Magi?” he croaked. “Aren’t they…”

  “Neutral?” Marelle countered, quirking an eyebrow. “Usually. But the battles fought here on Purlon claimed over a hundred of their number, and at least a dozen of the Great Libraries. Some say they were the focus of the war, and that the other battles were intended to hide that fact.”

  “At any rate,” Marelle continued, “The fleet and the army performed flawlessly. With the help of the Magi they landed at night and in a surprise raid slaughtered an entire garrison to gain a foothold. They out-marched news of their arrival, dispatching any enemy patrols they came across. News reached the capital city of Alcron a mere four days before the front ranks did, leaving no time for troops to be recalled.”