The Pilgrim Stone

by J D Bowens

  “I am Marcus Gairun, Sword to Dacos, a knight of the divine." Ewan did not rise from his seat next to Kyran, but Altin and Consus rose from the other side.

  “That hardly gives you the right to abuse our friend or anyone else,” Consus argued. He moved from his side of the table to stand beside Kyran and Ewan did the same, mug still in hand. "In fact, you have less right than most in this room. Grenloch does not permit the Servants of the Quintetta to operate as a governing authority in this realm."

  “Aye,” shouted an unidentified voice. “This is Grenloch. We’re the free men of the north. King has no sway. The Quintetta have no--”

  “Shut yer mouth,” another guard said. He turned to the Edderick brothers. "Apologize to Brother Gelwig, and perhaps you will have our mercy."

  Ewan laughed and brought his mug down over the guard's head and punched him in the gut. The guard crumpled to the ground and wretched over the floor. “Sorry, me' Lord,” Ewan said.

  Marcus threw a punch at Kyran who blocked it with his left arm and countered with his right. Marcus staggered backwards, stunned and holding his jaw. Kyran stepped forward to slam his knee into the guard's gut, but Marcus caught his knee and pushed forward forcing Kyran – and himself – to the floor.

  Consus stepped forward only to be punched in the face by the third guard. As he fell to the floor, he managed to balance himself on his side. Spinning himself around and upright the young man was able to sweep the guard's legs out from under him, knocking him to the floor.

  "How is that for a scholar, Ewan?" he said with a haughty laugh.

  Ewan gave no comment as he wrestled with another guard, bigger than he and fueled by a drunken rage. The guard managed to get his arms around Ewan’s neck and chest, but the slippery woodsman had managed to get his hands around the man's face.

  Another of the guard tackled Consus as he rose from the ground, but Consus punched him several times in the face until the drunk released him and fell to the floor. The crowd of patrons now surrounded the fight, cheering them on even as Bobboh burst through the kitchen doors into the common room. “Alright! That is enough!” The half-giant stood over a mess of guards and the Edderick brothers with his wooden club, more than half the size of a man. The group ignored the giant man and continued fighting. Consus called to his brothers to get their attention but to no avail.

  “I SAID ENOUGH!” He slammed his club into the ground. BOOM! The inn fell silent. The brothers and the guards stopped moving. Even Brother Gelwig sat down quietly in his seat, a pinched pout on his face. The guard released Ewan who in turn released the guard’s face. Everyone rose from the floor. “You four,” the angry half-giant said pointing at the brothers, “Sit down!” Consus reluctantly sat in the bench as his brothers plopped down beside him.

  Altin who remained in his seat muttered under his breath, "I am already sitting." Bobboh ignored him. Ewan wiped the spittle that had dripped onto his beard while Kyran stretched his brawny shoulders as though readying himself for another round.

  Bobboh turned his attention and his club to the guards and Gelwig. “And you, I don’t know that much about the Quintetta or how they do things, but I do know that I am the proprietor of this establishment. And I don't like the way you're treating my patrons or me friends. Get out.”

  Gelwig steeled his face before speaking from his bench. “I am Brother Gelwig, priest of Dacos -”

  “And I'm a big man with a big club,” declared Bobboh. The guards and Gelwig appeared to consider their options in their foggy minds, as they glared at the brothers – who were, of course glaring back. Consus tried to keep from laughing, not from fear of the guards but from the dull ache and bruise on his ribs. How small the priest of Dacos appeared before the angry half-giant. Even with his retinue of sell-swords, he was no match for the angry innkeeper.

  Brother Gelwig opened his mouth to say something as the inn door opened. Two women in heavy cloaks hurriedly walked in, closing the door behind them, and sat down at a nearby table against the wall.

  “There are plenty of other taverns in this town,” Gelwig said, his face defiant and hands balled into fists. He gathered his entourage and skulked out of the door of the Pig in the Pot.

  Bobboh now turned his angry gaze to the four brothers who were still sitting quietly at the table. They stared back at him for a moment. “Well there go my charitable contributions,” he said. A loud fit of guffawing erupted from Kyran and Ewan. It was only a moment before Consus himself, and the other patrons joined in. Not even Bobboh could suppress a smile as he turned and walked back to the kitchen. The man who had been hit by Marcus now walked up to the brothers and patted them on the back. Milo crawled out from underneath the table and made his way back to the small stage and began playing his lute again.

  Chapter 7

  Synara bounced in her seat as the coach hit a bump in the road. Zamari bounced across from her as well and muttered under her breath. Synara looked out the coach window to the surrounding countryside. Patches of green and brown covered the rocky terrain under a dreary gray sky. It was vastly different from the warm sun of Denipoor, the golden city by the sea.

  At least our journey will be over soon. She ached to stretch her legs outside of the coach and breathe in the fresh air. The Maerstone Keep soon came into view with black granite walls and four towers in each corner of the building touching the sky. Soldiers walked the battlements of the tall gray stone walls surrounding the keep. A few ran to raise the gate as the coach approached.

  The portcullis creaked as it rose and allowed them to enter the main bailey. There were several small homes behind the wall, many belonging to the servants, but much of the living space was for the growing army and the barracks outside the keep. Soldiers marching along the road moved out of the way for the carriage.

  “There appear to be more soldiers here than when I last visited,” Synara commented.

  A satisfied smile grew on Zamari’s face. “Captain Glemorian has been very effective in rallying allies to our cause. Soon we shall have the troops we need for an eternal army.”

  As the carriage rolled to a stop just outside the Maerstone Keep, Synara recognized the people racing towards her. A thin, gray-haired man with a beard about his gaunt face approached, arms outstretched to embrace Zamari.

  “My love, my wife, how happy I am of your return,” Lord Grimhold said. “I have missed you so. I dared not eat while you were away.” Zamari allowed him to embrace her, but Synara watched her flinch as he kissed her.

  “Enough of that,” Zamari said in a firm tone. “That is too much affection in front of everyone. Calm yourself.” To an outsider, such a scene would seem humorous, but Synara found it quite pitiful. The old man had been under Zamari’s spell for a long time, charmed for decades.

  I wish Zamari would just release him from this life and inherit all he has for Nemoth’s cause. But she knew doing so would only agitate the alliances she had made with the local nobility – who had pledged allegiance to Lord Grimhold and not the Lady. Such a guise of marriage was necessary to maintain her power.

  Synara turned her gaze from the lord to her brothers and sisters of Nemoth. Their ages and appearances varied and their backgrounds were just as diverse. Some had once belonged to noble families, and others were once peasants. All were devoted now to Zamari and Nemoth.

  Sister Lorna was the first to greet Zamari. She panted as she rushed from the keep, her squat frame jiggling with her jostled robes. Her brown and gray hair fell out of a messy bun to her wrinkled face. “Greetings, Mistress Zamari.” She bowed low beside the other disciples and Zamari bid them rise.

  “Where is Captain Glemorian?” Zamari asked eyeing Grimhold.

  Synara cringed as the lord squealed to answer. “He is still away tending to our new ally in the Southern Empire.”

  Zamari turned to Sister Lorna. “And of our plans in Anidrack?”

  “Mistress, our contact has revealed that there was a minor upset but intends to deliver the Crimson Throne bef
ore the Red Moon.”

  “Perfect then. The elves are continuing on their current path, but we believe one of them to be a Child of Arden.” There was a collective gasp and hiss among the group, but Zamari smiled and raised a hand to stop them. “We have nothing to fear children. The Shadow covers us, and the Blood invigorates us. We shall be successful in our retrieval of the Pilgrim Stone. Synara shall see to it. She is to send a raven to follow the elves to the hidden sanctuary.”

  Synara cringed again as her colleagues eyed her. She could swear she felt a cold wind suddenly blow in her direction.

  Brother Malin stepped forward. “Mistress Zamari, perhaps I could assist Synara with the elves. I have shown great promise in performing our Lord’s deeds.” He brushed aside his mopish brown hair from his gaunt, hollow eyes, his skinny frame hunched under his robes. Synara always thought he had the appearance of a weasel.

  Synara watched Zamari’s smile vanish as her face turned to ice. “You presume to know better than I, who assigned this task to Synara?”

  Malin choked as he spoke. “No mistress, I merely meant to offer my assistance. Surely she is tired from such a long trip.”

  Synara gulped and spoke. “I am a little –“

  “She is tired after such a long trip,” Zamari replied. “Carry her bags to her quarters in the temple. She could use the rest. Synara, once you have recovered, prepare the raven and see what progress the elves have made.”

  Synara and Malin bowed at their mistress’ wishes. Malin cast her a foul glance once Zamari had disappeared into the keep with Lord Grimhold, Lorna, Toric, and Hypus. Synara ignored him; she was far more concerned with disappointing Zamari and Nemoth. As Malin struggled to carry her belongings into the temple, Synara considered the weight of the task she had been given. By the shadows of Amarant, please do not allow me to fail her now.

  “Malin, might you also fetch me a raven?” she asked once they reached her chambers. Her quarters in the temple were like those back in Denipoor, beautiful and well kept.

  Malin dropped her bags by the door. “Do your own work. I don’t understand why Zamari has entrusted you with this task. I’m just as gifted.”

  I was trusted because I can sense divina magic better than you. She did not bother explaining. Best to let him finish complaining and leave.

  “I can prepare a raven just as well as you can. My gift of hypnosis would make short work of the elves.”

  “I do not pretend to understand the wisdom of Nemoth, but I trust Zamari to follow his guidance and instruction,” she said.

  Malin sneered and slithered out of the room. A young chambermaid bumped into him as she entered with a bowl of water. It splashed on his robe and onto the floor. The girl looked up at him with a terrified look on her face: a mouse caught by a cat.

  “You clumsy cow,” Malin spat. He held the wet robes up to her face. “Watch where you’re going.” He slapped her with the back of his hand and sent the girl tumbling to the ground. He kicked her in the ribs as she squealed and screeched.

  Synara did nothing as the girl begged him to stop. Interfering would only anger him further and bring the girl more harm. He won’t kill her. Zamari did not like it when the staff was killed.

  Malin turned his gaze to Synara. “Get your own raven.”

  Synara knelt beside the maid after Malin had left. She helped the girl to stand and cast a spell to heal her wounds and bruises. “Everything will be alright,” Synara told her.

  The girl sniffled and picked the bowl up from the floor. “Thank you Sister Synara. I’ll come back with another bowl.”

  Synara watched the girl skulk out of the room. Nemoth needs all his Blessed ones. She remembered what Zamari had told her about tolerating the “less faithful” Children of Nemoth. Even if they are evil brats like Malin, he will use them for his return and then he will be judge over all.

  Chapter 8

  The stairs creaked under Consus’ feet as he made his way to the second floor of the inn. The Pig in the Pot was quiet now save for the snores from Milo. Ewan, Kyran, and Altin walked behind him; unconscious Milo tucked under Kyran’s arm with his lute. Moonbeams streamed through a window at the top of the hallway and illuminated their path.

  Consus observed their shadows, stretched out by the lantern light behind him. Our shadows look as tired as us.

  "He had better not drool on my shirt," Kyran said. His pack and swords fell out of his other arm and clattered to the ground. He struggled to hold onto the halfling and the little lute. “Here, Ewan can you hold him a moment. Ah, damn. He did drool on my shirt.”

  Consus smiled and picked up Kyran’s swords. "Why do you keep Milo around? He can’t be that helpful, can he?"

  Kyran picked up his pack from the floor and took back his swords. "Halflings are good luck; they’re fate's wildcard. Even the most unfortunate person who has led a doomed existence may have his fortune changed should he meet a halfling. Or perhaps it is bad luck. I cannot recall."

  Consus laughed. "Wouldn’t you find out if you left him behind one of these days?"

  "Truth is I'm afraid to. Suppose he's been good luck this whole time. You think our life is rough now, brother, imagine how much worse off we would be without him. "

  “Damn halfling is starting to kick me in his sleep,” Ewan said. “I’m not sharing a bed with him tonight.”

  Kyran shrugged his weary shoulders and rolled his eyes. “If you two share a room then you won’t have to share a bed. Just carry him to the end of the hall.”

  Ewan jostled the Halfling in one arm and hefted his bow and the lute in the other. “Gladly. He can snore all he wants. Doesn’t bother me.” Ewan continued down the hall to the room at the end, smacking the halfling’s head into the door frame as he entered.

  “Ow,” Milo cried. “Be careful, you buffoon.” The door closed behind Ewan, but Consus could still hear them arguing.

  Consus looked for a lantern as he entered the second room. He could hear Altin collapse on the bed on the far end of the room. Kyran closed the door behind him as he entered. “I had better not hear them complain in the morning,” Kyran said.

  “You know they will anyway,” Consus said. A knock at the door drew a collective sigh from the three brothers. Can’t Ewan and Milo just go to sleep without disrupting the whole inn?

  “It is too late in the night for this nonsense,” Kyran said through the door. “The pair of you should just go to sleep.”

  “Apologies for the late hour,” a feminine voice replied, “but the matter is private and sensitive. Sheriff Blackwall recommended you as honorable guides. May I come in?”

  Consus blinked in surprise. "Didn’t the sheriff mention something about two women?" Consus asked.

  Altin sat upright on the bed. "Let us not be so quick to be rude brother. Of course, we shall invite the ladies in."

  Kyran glared at Altin. "Sober up and cast a silence spell. Consus, pay attention and keep a close eye on them."

  Consus rolled his eyes. Kyran was always suspicious of strangers. He watched as Kyran opened the door to two lithe figures wrapped in dark green cloaks, their hoods drawn over their heads hiding details of their faces. They entered the room and walked past Kyran who closed the door after them. The two stood at the center of the room.

  “I apologize for the secrecy,” the first woman said, “and I hope that we have not too greatly disturbed you at this late hour. We wanted to approach you earlier this evening, but we did not wish to draw attention. We have come a long way and need your help.” She lowered her hood, and her friend did the same. The first woman brushed back the long brown locks of hair beside her fawn colored skin to reveal her pointed ears.

  Consus could not suppress his disbelief. “You’re an elf," he gawked. "You’re both elves.” Her friend had also removed her hood, her long golden hair tightly woven in a single braid and wrapped sitting on her shoulders.

  "How observant you are," the golden-haired elf remarked.

  Kyran snapped his fingers at Con
sus to be silent. "M'ladies, forgive my brother," Kyran interjected. "He has had much to drink. Please, do have a seat." He removed the pack sitting on the nearby chair, then pulled the chair out from the table for the brown-haired elf woman.

  “Thank you,” she said as she sat in the chair, her voice as gentle as a soft song. "I am Leiwyn of the House Valsun, and this is my traveling companion, Karinne Rosaflis.” She gestured to the golden-haired elf. Consus noticed Karinne was the only one of the two bearing a sword.

  "We are the Edderick brothers," Kyran said and introduced each brother in the room. “My other brother, Ewan, and our friend, Milo, have already taken to bed.”.

  "We have heard a little about you from the Sheriff, and we arrived earlier this evening at the end of your 'dispute' with the guards." Consus cringed at the thought of her watching their brawl.

  "I am sorry you had to witness the encounter," Kyran said. "I hope you do not count it against us as we are not typically given to brawl. The Servants of the Quintetta are a haughty lot-"

  Leiwyn raised a hand to interject. "Please, I would not hold it against you. I am aware of the meddlesome nature of the Servants of the Quintetta. It is for this reason we have travelled with great discretion in the Northern Kingdom."

  "I take it the elves do not worship the Quintetta," Kyran said.

  "No, the Quintetta is a human based pantheon," Leiwyn explained. "They teach that man is a descendant of the five gods and has an inherent right to the mortal realm. All the other races were created as helpers and slaves. Karinne and I have been witness to some of the horrid acts the Servants of the Quintetta carry out in their name. The burnings and the torture - I have never seen anything quite as terrible before."

  "We are not followers of those gods,” Kyran said. “You needn’t to fear such behavior from us."

  "Thank you for your assurances," she said. “I am told you are familiar with the Nor Sea."

  “Aye, we grew up there,” he said. “Save for the fisherman; we are the best guides for the area. What are you looking for? A lost ship, ancient artifacts, whatever’s on that parchment?” Kyran pointed at Leiwyn.