by S. Nileson
“That, too, I was instructed not to reveal. Accepting things will be much easier for you, Archer, because you have very little choice at what awaits you. In that we are similar.” Chordus watched Archer intently as he thought while smoking his pipe. After a long moment of silence he said, “I have things to attend to. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Archer nodded and led himself out, where Balta patiently waited. When the door was shut behind him a guard opened another door leading outside. It was not the same one which they had entered from. Silently Archer walked back to the inn and Balta followed. When they were near the stairway and far enough from the guards not to hear them, Balta said, “Ascilla is gone. I don’t understand how someone can have a mission ready for them after months of being presumed dead.”
“There are many things I don’t understand in this new life of ours, Balta.” He started descending the stairway and looked blankly ahead. “I just want to go home,” he whispered to himself, but Balta caught wind of it.
4
At the Goat’s Keg Keteus stood on a wooden table surrounded by a group of mercenary soldiers singing and dancing to the tunes of a bard playing the lyre. The soldiers made a mess as they drank their ale while dancing, spilling more of it than drinking, and complimenting Keteus’ performance with applauses and cheers.
The merriment at the Goat’s Keg was heard by Archer and Balta as soon as they took a turn by a central street leading straight to the inn. Archer hoped the source of the noise was not the Goat’s Keg inn, perhaps the stone structure carved into the mountain right before it, but the closer he got to the inn the more his hope lessened. There would be no peace for some time to come.
Archer entered first, Balta silently following, and curiously tilted to look through the crowd of clapping soldiers and see what was grasping their attention so. When the melodious claps stopped and the soldiers burst in a large cheer, Keteus stood tall amongst them.
“Strange,” Balta said. “I could have sworn that he wasn’t that tall.” He scratched his wild chestnut hair and made it to look even more untamed.
“Guess you need to learn to swear less,” Archer said. His voice no longer bore the somber tone it had carried since their audience with Chordus and reverted to its natural form. “Now what exactly is he doing?”
“Ah, my friends have returned!” Keteus pointed at Archer and Balta and the mercenaries started to cheer and hassle the bard to play another song. At the bard’s tune Keteus started singing, “Back from the blue where the fish are large and true…”
The soldiers sang along Keteus’ stuttering singing, “…and the bait not even shrewd and the sailors old and rude.” They all took large gulps from their ales while the bard continued to play his lyre and dance along.
As the song continued Archer said to Balta, “I will go up and stay in the calm for a while.”
“Nonsense.” Balta held him by the shoulder and shouted, “Next round is on him, boys.” The declaration earned Archer a cheer and the soldiers proceeded to forcefully carry him onto the table where Keteus danced his bizarre dance.
“Come now,” Keteus said, “raise your arms and kick this way.” He instructed Archer through the dance and somehow convinced, rather forced, him into participating. A mug of ale was shoved into Archers hand as he was dancing, forcing him to drop an arm momentarily, and then the spilling began again, Archer no longer judging the other patrons on the waste and indulging in the celebration.
For many an hour they danced, until the hourglass’ blue side was turned up and the sand ran halfway through. By that time Archer was too drunk and exhausted to care for anything but a warm bed and a deep sleep. Walking past the unconscious patrons who fell into a deep drunken stupor, carefully choosing where to step next, Balta reached out to a tumbling Archer, guided him to his bed and said, “Now this is a night to remember!”
5
Archer woke up with a headache like none he had ever experienced before. His body felt heavy and the little light the only lit oil lamp produced pained his eyes whenever he look towards it. He scanned the room and found himself alone, Ascilla’s bed the only unused one. It was a good time for a long bath to help him think about his escape. He vividly remembered Commander Chordus telling him that his next destination would be Partha and that he had to wait until the roads leading to Partha would be safe; the voice of Chordus repeating the words in his mind.
What bothered him most was that he did not know who his enemies were and why he was a wanted man. All he ever remembered doing was logging in the forest near Gallecia where Keshish lived. Perhaps the old man was right, he thought. Perhaps I should have looked into my past and maybe then I would have known why I am here.
He put on his same smelly clothes and descended for a warm meal which his body did not want but his mind told him he needed. Food was a common remedy for ale illness, he often heard Keshish saying.
Balta and Keteus were sitting on a table with four empty bowls stacked between them. They noticed Archer descending and welcomed him, as if he needed an invitation.
“You took your time,” Balta said, tapping Archer’s shoulder in a rough but friendly way.
“What happened with you last night?” Archer asked of Keteus.
“It was wonderful.” He smiled and got lost in thought for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling. “For many years I had nothing but the rocks and trees to speak to, even the river I did not think of conversing with. When I saw these young soldiers seeking to celebrate their new contract, I could not stop myself from joining. Oh how I missed the days of old when I would often make merry with stranger and friend alike, I admit. It is one of the most admirable qualities of your people.”
“You can stay here for as long as you want, but don’t expect me to do so,” Archer said. He waved at the young woman and gestured at the bowls. She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen and immediately came with another wooden bowl of steaming soup with a wooden spoon protruding from it. She left the bowl and smiled at Archer before returning to her duties restoring the inn from the ruckus it had just endured. “I will leave soon.”
“Where to?” Balta curiously asked. He knew that Archer was not content of being held in Fort Pax, but never expected him to suddenly abandon Keshish’s will.
“Away from here.” He took a spoonful of soup and burnt his tongue, conveying no sign of pain but dropping the spoon into the soup and leaving it for a few moments to cool. “Commander Chordus wants me to go to Partha, but I’m thinking of just going back to Keshish’s cabin and rebuilding it.”
“And the old man’s will?” Balta asked, looking at Keteus as if he himself had a stake in their journey.
“As far as I’m concerned it’s done. He wanted me to go to Katabasis and I went.”
Balta hummed, looked at Keteus and said, “How about you? Will you join me on my journey to Partha?”
Keteus nodded. “I might as well. Things are far more interesting here than at my cave. I think this Partha of yours will be no exception”
Balta looked at Archer and said, “If you will not respect Keshish’s last dying wish then we will. I’m sure Ascilla would have come if she too was invited.”
“Not if a mission led her elsewhere,” Archer retorted. He returned to his cooler soup and resumed eating, lumps of vegetables falling off whenever the spoon was too full to accommodate for his shaking.
“This isn’t like you, brother,” Balta said, his eyes saddened by his broken friend. “What did Chordus say that made you so defeated?”
Archer swallowed a mouthful of soup. “Haven’t you grown tired of all this traveling and danger? I can’t sleep well anymore and it seems as if I’ve completely lost control over my life. It’s frustrating, Balta, and I want no part of it anymore.”
“That’s life, Archer. The way we lived with Keshish was the abnormality. I ran away from my people a long time ago because I was cast out for being too wild. When I think back to those days I see the folly of my youthful
self. I was missing purpose and now I finally have it. Brother, there is nothing I wish for more than to fit in. Now, with Keshish’s will, I finally started to feel part of something bigger, with you, Ascilla and Keteus. And if you won’t keep at it then I will, with whoever will join me.”
Lifting his bowl with both hands Archer drank. When he gently returned it on the table it was empty save for a few scraps that stuck to the side. “Then I wish you the best of luck, I really do.”
“Will you at least tell me where to find you?”
“On our way here from Keteus’ cave we walked through a lush forest. I found a nice clearing within where the sun shined and the birds sang. I think I will build a cabin there.”
Balta stood up and said, “Very well, brother. Keteus and I will go there after we’ve seen to Keshish’s will. Perhaps then you will regain interest and we will tell you all about our adventures.”
After Balta and Keteus left, ascending to their room to pack their belongings before they went on their way, Archer overheard two merchants speaking of a wagon they intended to drive to Gallecia. He approached them and greeted, “Good day!”
“Good day,” they replied in unison, seeming to Archer only slightly disturbed by the interruption. They wore smelly clothes patched with different pieces of cloth and leather, giving them an odd appearance relative to the usual well-dressed attire expected from merchants. Both had bare heads with braided dark hair, each with a strand falling to the right of their face. Their skin was tanned as typical of Desert Folk but their statures were muscular, revealing their Kolian heritage.
“I overheard you speaking of traveling to Gallecia and was wondering if you had room for one more.” He gestured at the young woman to bring them three ales. The merchants, already seeing a benefit of the small exchange, offered a seat to Archer.
“Young man, we are merchants, not philanthropists. There is a price for that which you ask.” He looked at Archer from head to toe to judge the heaviness of his coin purse. A slight hum indicated that he was not impressed but, as all good merchants did, he entertained the possibility of a trade.
Archer slid his finger into his coin pouch and produced one gold coin, placing it on the table. “Will one Oboi be enough?”
The merchants smiled and exchanged glances, revealing two sets of decaying teeth tarnished with the black and brown of smoking, drinking and a general neglect of hygiene. “Welcome aboard, friend. I am Bayah from Fort Rash and this is my associate Stah, also from Fort Rash.”
Stah offered his hand to Archer and eagerly shook it. “Nice to make your acquaintance.” His voice had an unsettling shrill to it that warned Archer of trusting him.
“We head to Stonerift first,” Bayah said. “You can join us there or perhaps rejoin us later as we head towards Gallecia.”
“Where is Stonerift?” Archer asked. Immediately after speaking he regretted his declaration of ignorance and thought that perhaps he had given the merchants an opportunity to take advantage of him. He dismissed his worry at the merchants’ response, sensing no other motive in their tone.
“It’s to the west.”
“I’ll join you to Stonerift then.” Gallecia was east of Fort Pax and the journey was not a quick one, with the usual roads being unsafe. Archer did not mind the slight adjustment, for he mostly intended to escape Fort Pax.
“Very well, we move in an hour. Meet us here.”
Archer leaned towards the merchants and whispered, “There is one more thing that merits another coin.”
The merchants exchanged glances and hummed.
“I will need to be smuggled out of here.”
“If at any time you’re caught we will deny our involvement,” Stah said. Once Archer nodded in agreement he continued, “Next to the inn there’s a stable. Our wagon is parked there, it’s made of darkened wood and has ‘The Silvertongue Brothers’ written on it. There is a compartment under the wagon filled with hey. Make sure you are well hidden there in one hour. If you have guards looking for you, I would suggest you get there as sneakily as possible. We will not search or wait for you.”
Archer took the coin he had placed on the table, stood up and before he could start heading to his room to start preparing for the voyage Bayah gripped his arm and said, “As a sign of good faith we will need to be paid half now.”
Reluctantly, Archer left the gold coin on the table and felt Bayah’s grip loosen and eventually his arm pulled away from Archer and towards the coin. He took it and bit on it. Satisfied, he tucked it into his tight right sleeve and smiled. “Nice doing business with you.”
When Archer took the stairs he saw Balta and Keteus packed and leaving. “Take care, brother,” Balta said, patting him on the shoulder. “We will seek you out when it’s all over.”
Keteus held Archer by the shoulders and said, “Do not do anything rash, will you.” He hugged Archer tightly and with surprising strength that made him gasp for breath.
“Don’t worry, old man. Anything I will do is surely safer than this embrace.”
Keteus let go, smiled and gently pushed Balta to continue down the stairs. A wave of sadness came upon the three as once more they were forced to be separated.
“How can anyone like this?” Archer whispered to himself as he watched his companions disappear through the door.
It did not take Archer long to get dressed in the leather armor Ganis had given him and to pack his belongings. He searched for a way to exit the room undetected and found none. Going into the corridor leading to other rooms, Archer found a wooden hatch on the ceiling by its end. He reached up and opened it with a gentle push. A small jumped gave him the leverage needed to climb through. Once inside the hatch he closed it, making as little sound as he could, and crawled towards a light shining from its exit. Looking from the hatch, he saw a room filled with hey and goats fenced on the other side. One of the walls had stacks of kegs resting on it and a tall ladder fastened on a rail. A wooden crane was tucked under a large piece of cloth barely large enough to cover it and a single wagon was parked near the large wooden gate, horses which could have pulled it nowhere in sight. On the side of the wagon Archer read ‘The Silvertongue Brothers.’
As Archer was about to jump on the hay stack below, the inn’s young server led two bulky men in and instructed them to grab one of the kegs. After they were done with their chore Archer once again summoned his courage and jumped, falling onto the soft hay face-first. He quickly got up, checked himself for any broken bones or injuries – finding none - and rushed to the wagon. The compartment was easy to find but tighter than he had expected. Archer looked into the wagon and found enough space under one of the two wooden planks fastened within to leave his belongings, the package given to him by Ganis. Satisfied with how he had secured his luggage, he squeezed into the compartment under the wagon and covered himself with his black cloak and some hay as best as he could manage. When he was well secured he cursed at himself for not waiting a little longer before cramping himself in.
Later the merchants entered, speaking amongst themselves of their travel arrangements and discussing payment with the stable master. After a long conversation a stable boy got two large horses and fastened them to the wagon.
“Have the horses been fed?” Stah asked of the stable boy.
“Yes, sir,” the voice of a young boy answered.
“Here is something for your troubles,” Bayah said. “And that for you, friend.”
“Thank you,” the stable master said.
The wagon shook as the merchants rode. “Rostam protect us,” Bayah prayed, Stah repeating after him. A crack of a whip commanded the horses to move.
When the wagon reached the nearby gate Archer heard the guards exchange a few words with the two merchants. Their questions seemed methodical and rehearsed. Satisfied with the merchants’ answers the guards opened the gates and bid them farewell, taking no note of Archer’s presence. A little while longer the wagon stopped and Bayah declared it safe for Archer to find a more c
omfortable spot. Archer emerged, stretching thoroughly before entering the wagon, and found a slightly more comfortable place on the wooden seat under which he had stowed his package.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Bayah said. “You might need to get back there on our wat back.” The two merchants laughed.
And so they made for Stonerift.
6
Before the First Civil War of Man, when tensions rose between the Four Cities, and they declared their allegiances openly, marching their vast armies against each other in preparation for war, Gallecia’s armies pitted against Partha and Kol’s facing Senna’s, small groups of men left the large cities in pursuit of a peaceful life away from politics and the grueling taxes the kings imposed on those who dwelled in their cities. Being a peaceful people, they weathered the wars with little involvement. Some of these smaller villages were forced to send their children to serve under the banner of one of the cities and some were forced to pay taxes collected in no apparent pattern.
Yet a few villages remained entirely untouched and drew refugees to them. Stonerift was one such village and it drew people from all around the continent, even Alvians, Estgardians and occasionally Orkstadians. The village was known for its quarry, and named after the large rift in the stone that peaked the curiosity of the first settlers.
A stream of freshwater ran past the village and by it they farmed, drank and washed. The land was bountiful, producing two harvests a year, and the children grew tall and strong, bearing similarity to all different peoples and equally different from any one folk alone.
Stonerift grew large, large enough to have a small militia of its own to protect it from bandits, but had no experience in being attacked by an organized force. Thus the town had not even a palisade to protect it from invaders and relied mostly on their peaceful and neutral nature.
It was by that history which the travelers were caught by surprise when they arrived to a burning village once called ‘The Warless Village’. Archer knew nothing of Stonerift’s past, and equally little of the destruction war brought in its wake and just before it was waged. He too was shocked, but his shock came not from his knowledge of Stonerift, but his ignorance of man’s cruelty.
