The side of the river was curiously empty along the eastern side of the city wall. Especially at night, when it was cool outside, Grettune expected to find many people carrying water from the river, but the city’s impressive aqueduct network seemed to make that unnecessary. As they traveled, they stepped over or through several of the irrigation channels before making their way to the banks of the river itself, keeping tight to the small embankment between the fields leading to the castle and the riverbanks that sat just below. By walking hunched over, it is unlikely any but the sharpest lookout would see their movement. Magically enhanced, they were sure no one from the city would.
Krieger called them to stop when they were within two hundred paces of the bridge and told them to look for movement on the bridge or on the far bank. Despite their improved vision, they could make out no motion or people.
Taking a last look around, Krieger turned to Perryn. “I think it’s time the savior of the Dar’Duz make an appearance and get us across the bridge.”
“Thank goodness,” Perryn said, as he reached down to untie the wood strapped to his broken foot, held Grettune by the shoulders and kissed her deeply before stepping away, smiling, and changing into his other form. His feet were gone, replaced by small wisps of cloud, and his long eyes looked first to his wife and then Krieger.
Watching him go Grettune was struck that while he appeared to be running, like a four-legged animal, his torso was still upright, and while his legs moved as if they were running, not having feet gave him the effect of floating across the ground. A guard saw him as he left the riverbed and scrambled up onto the field to make his way to the bridge. Perryn’s head moved quickly to the right where he saw the guard running toward him, and he reared back his shoulders as if he was going to meet the charge when an arrow came from the darkness of the bridge and plunged into the guard’s neck, the sound of the arrow snapping as the man hit the ground fading into silence once again.
Perryn looked toward the bridge and moved to the western edge and hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing across. As he reached the other side unharmed, he called out to Grettune, his voice faint in her ears alone. “I have been received, you and Krieger should come quickly before more guards come out.”
No guards came to hinder their passage and Grettune looked to Krieger to see if he had any explanation for what had happened. His shoulders shrugged as they raced up the embankment and across the bridge. After they had crossed, they dipped behind a line of palms and tall grasses where Perryn had returned to his normal form. He was walking normally and laughing lightly with a smaller man. About twenty paces further on, their outlines only visible even to their magically adjusted sight, three guards were huddled together watching the path from the south.
“Well met, Emissary, Wielder, I hope it was not too difficult getting here. Would that I could have made it easier, but these are dangerous times in Dar’Ahlmon.”
The voice made Grettune start and even Krieger seemed to register a familiarity, but it wasn’t a voice they had entirely heard before.
When they got closer, it was Perryn who spoke first, turning sharply to his wife and Krieger, and bowing his head slightly. “Emissary Krieger, Wielder Grettune, may I present his Eminence, the Dynast of Dar’Ahlmon.”
The young man smiled and laughed easily as the reality of Perryn’s words registered with them. “Did not Ilyadra tell you that there was a member of the Dar’Duz who would aid you during your stay?” He laughed again as the northerners made the connections. “You were not expecting me, obviously, which means I have played my part well. Let us walk. There is a town south of here where we will stop and there, we will find more friends.”
As they made their way along the eastern bank of the river, the dynast explained to them the movement inside his palace by advisors, specifically by Ha’quin, to quietly and slowly usurp his power. As he spoke, the dynast tried to keep the walking pace quick, but his spinal deformity made movement slower and more painful than for others. When Grettune offered to try to heal him, he thanked her but said no. “This is who I am. A boy king who would rather read than hold a sword; a ruler who would rather have his people united than create dissension and tribes; a proud son of Dar’Ahlmon, who would rather take great risks than make pointless war.”
Krieger walked next to the dynast, taking occasional half steps to maintain a steady pace with the ruler. “You may be young, your Eminence, but rarely have I heard greater wisdom from a ruler.” The young man smiled and lowered his head. Had it been light enough, Grettune was sure she would have seen him blush. Not wanting to make him more uncomfortable, Krieger followed up his compliment with a question. “But what will you do about Ha’quin? With you out of the palace, surely he will take an opportunity to seize your throne?”
At this the dynast lifted his head and smiled broadly, his white teeth shining in the starlight. “Ah, Emissary, Ha’quin has been trying to make life difficult for me with the other advisors, but he is still only an advisor and so he must do as the Dynast asks, lest he be punished for the highest of crimes. So, no, I do not think my throne will fall while I’m away.”
The night he had left Grettune’s room, the Dynast had sent Ha’quin to ensure the emissary and his guests were sent to the dungeon hold, but to be treated as watched guests and not criminal prisoners. While he was busy doing this, the Dynast had orders prepared for his commanders to march to the south, to break up the rebellion of the border island.
“The advisors of the Dynast do not just sit idly by and whisper in the ruler’s ear,” the young man explained. “They are also expected to do things of value for their sovereign. Ha’quin, having been a soldier once, was recalled to duty, to take a sizeable force, hand-picked by me, to the south. They marched out of the palace gates shortly before you met me on the bridge. That is why there were so few soldiers patrolling this area. In fact, Ha’quin’s detachment is one of three. A much smaller force was sent to patrol the trade route to Swinton, and a third, even smaller force sent south to find any Qorghal who have been rumored to be moving in that area. Each of the three detachments are led by advisors who are not convinced of my capacity to rule. Unfortunately, they will be heroes upon their return, and I will decorate their chests for their gallantry to Dar’Ahlmon.”
“I’m sorry, you’ll do what?” Grettune was smiling at the boy’s tactical prowess in how he removed his biggest threats in such a way as they had no choice but to comply, but she didn’t understand why he would reward them for it. When the dynast turned to Grettune and offered her a small smile, she saw that Krieger was grinning widely as if he understood exactly why the ruler would do such a thing.
“You see, Wielder,” the dynast said, “while the troops are being commanded by my advisors, the officers I have sent with them were all chosen by me. They are men and women whom I know to be loyal and whom I know do not want to see Dar’Ahlmon take on a role as a militaristic state bent on conquest. They are happy to fight, but only if provoked by force, not mere words or insult. No, Wielder, there will be three new advisors in my council before the next moon. When the bodies of Ha’quin and the others are returned, I will extoll their non-existent virtues, and proclaim their loyalty and patriotism to Dar’Ahlmon; then I will pin a sash on their still chests and walk at the front of the line as their bodies are paraded through the streets. When everyone has turned away, then I will piss on their graves.”
30 - Rykaba
They continued south following the river and Grettune was enjoying the company of the dynast, who insisted the wielders call him Rykaba. “In this new world we enter, it will not be long before kings bow to wielders,” he said. “So long as wielders are not madmen, and hold no desire for political power, I shall do this gladly.”
Rykaba was unlike what Grettune and the others had expected. He was very well educated and read a great deal. Due to his deformity, reading and study were among the only things he could do while young, so he engrossed himself in those act
ivities. The court politics bored him, and his father had said that it was unlikely he would ever become Dynast. “‘I will have another son, and he will become Dynast. You can serve Dar’Ahlmon best through your studies.’ That is what my father would tell me, but then he and mother died, or more likely were killed, and there was no one to become Dynast but me. But within all the reading and study, I learned more about politics and intrigue than many would guess, and I could see at once that that Ha’quin and others were likely culpable in my parent’s deaths. But I could not prove it, so I pretended to be slow and dim. I let them think they held power from behind the throne while I set my own plans in motion.”
“Were you not worried they would kill you as they had your parents?” Krieger walked politely behind Rykaba who preferred Grettune and Perryn by his sides, but he stopped to face the man who had asked the question.
“At first, yes. But then it occurred to me that if I died too quickly, it would look suspicious. They were going to wait and as I let them think they were running the kingdom, they waited longer than perhaps they might have.” Rykaba turned and started walking again before turning his head and addressing Krieger as they moved, “Krieger, did you not come to Dar’Ahlmon with messages from Edgar?”
The familiarity with which Rykaba said the king’s name caught Krieger momentarily off-guard, but he quickly reached for the documents Grettune had magically hidden and handed them to the dynast. As the younger man opened the cases and broke the seals, he smiled and said, “I met Edgar when I was very young, in a small town whose name escapes me. There was a woman there named Haustis who told me stories about places far away. I think she may have spent time with Edgar when he was a boy, but when I traveled there, I wanted to spend time with the town’s small collection of books and writings and learn about the people of Wesolk. I was glad for him when I heard he had become King.” Rykaba turned his attention to the documents and kept walking, murmuring to himself and shuffling the papers back and forth. Finally, he called for one of his attending guards, whispered something and kept walking. Soon, the guard come back with a small box which Rykaba took from him while the guard got down on his hands and knees. The dynast put the box on the man’s back, using him like a desk, and opened the small wooden writing slope, took out a quill and ink and signed his name on the documents, and then turned to Grettune to ask if she could provide for him a small flame to melt some wax to affix his seal. When he was finished, he closed the box, returned it to the soldier, whom he thanked by name, and continued.
“I believe Krieger, that this signature concludes your business in Dar’Ahlmon. You are invited now, the three of you, to continue with me if you wish, or you may return to the highway and home. I will have a guard escort you to the border.” The guard who had been the Dynast’s desk earlier returned and handed Krieger back the weapons that had been taken from them when they were moved to the dungeons.
With quick glances toward each other Grettune told Rykaba they would continue with him. “We have, perhaps a month where we can continue before I must limit myself somewhat,” Grettune said, “but we would very much like to stay with your Eminence.”
Rykaba smiled and told his guards to make haste to Dar’Balstram, a small town and one of the final places for provisions before they turned to the southwest and into the desert. The guards picked up their pace and were soon small against the horizon. That they had not suggested one should stay with the Dynast told Grettune they understood well that their sovereign was well protected, and they seemed happy to be away.
“They will see to provisions, and perhaps mounts to see us across the desert. You have ridden camels, or so Ilyadra tells me.”
Bringing up the Dar’Duz caused Perryn to ask a question Grettune had been waiting for an opportunity to ask herself. “Rykaba, how is it that you are so well connected to the Dar’Duz, if they are the people of previous dynasts?”
“That, my friend, is an excellent question, the answer of which can be found in my travels north. Because of my appearance and my youth, and the belief that I would never be dynast, my father took little responsibility by way of protecting me as I rode to my studies – studies he believed I would have been better off accomplishing in Dar’Ahlmon, where we have quite a good library. But I would take several members of household staff, and perhaps a guard, but always one I hand-picked and released from her obligation as soon as we cleared the walls of the city. Dar’Ahlmon is a big enough place for a single soldier to get lost for a few days if she has places she’d rather be. As you know, travel along the road from the oasis to Swinton is not always free of incident, and one evening, as I shared a fire with the Dar’Duz, a band of riders came up with swords drawn and demanded six lives. I was very young at the time, perhaps only seven, but with my back as crooked as it is, there was no question who I was. I told the men that if they killed their leader, I would allow them to leave us in peace. This they did with some alacrity I tell you, for I do not think they paid high regard to their leader. A leader, it turns out, who was of very close relation to Ha’quin.
“Since that time, I have kept a close contact with the Dar’Duz and I’ve helped them maintain their network within the city. The Dar’Duz are Ahlmen and they should not be treated like chattel in the wilderness. When we return to the city, I will return through Duzmet and there I will find new advisors and I will welcome all who would come, back to the city. For those who stay, we will send resources and supplies, and build Duzmet into a great city one day.”
For the rest of the day the four walked along the river and Krieger answered questions about Bayside, and the wielders about magic. As dusk approached, the soldiers Rykaba had sent out could be seen ahead, with a camp complete with tents, camels, a fire and food.
Over the next two days they traveled across a desert of fine sand that, had they not had the camels, they would have found difficult to navigate on foot. The large padded feet of the beasts, however, were perfectly suited to the soft, shifting sand and they were able to make good time in the early morning and through the evening. During the heat of the day, they took shelter in the large, comfortable tents. Fortunately, they only traveled for a few days through the sand. Within two days they felt a freshening breeze from the sea to the south. Ahead of them the horizon was thin with the dark smoke of fires, and in the sky above, flocks of birds gathered.
“If all is well, we will find our valiant heroes ahead,” Rykaba said without joy as they made camp in the middle of the evening. “We will sleep now, as it seems we will find battle tomorrow. The reports appear correct, the Qorghal have moved to the south. Let us hope the reports of dragons and madmen are not so accurate.”
Codex of the Prime Wielder
The Amulet of Haustis
When the items that make the amulet were placed together and bonded with a stone, Lydria’s magical energy fused the elements into a stone-hard amulet that since its creation has given off a faint golden glow and hung around the neck of Haustis. Lydria contends that the magic in the stone is helping to keep Haustis alive after being stabbed by King Ahlric’s guards. The magic of the amulet, it appears, is all that stands between Haustis and death, even now. Whether or not the amulet will retain its magic after she dies is unknown, as is whether the amulet’s power would work for anyone other than Haustis.
The Amulet was made from a horse-hair circlet belonging to the second-to-last Haustis. The item was an incomplete circle, each of the ends being capped with worked stone. One side bright white, and the other side jet. Haustis would explain the concept of The Grey, by showing how people would move up toward the dark or the light, generally in short bursts through specific deeds. The space between the two caps was The Grey – where those who believed strongly and solely in the light, or the dark, met – their actions and ideals melding in a space where actions taken for one reason might easily work toward its opposite.
The people of Eifynar, created for Lydria, a small and delicate cap for the end of her finger. A finger she lost t
o an arrow fired by Wynter before the Stones of Power were discovered. Lydria had kept the severed finger and the cap was used to cover the blunted end of the bone. The fit was perfect and placing the cap between the black and white ends of the circlet, Lydria’s bone finger-tip rested on the bottom of the circlet – where Haustis believed most people lived their lives, striving neither for ultimate evil, nor ultimate light.
When a stone was placed upon Lydria’s detached bone finger, it absorbed into the bone, turning the entire circlet into a hard, cobalt amulet, that shines with a golden, healing light.
Because of the nature of the wound suffered by the last Haustis, the Amulet protects her from remnants of the blade and disease from same.
Grettune
31 - The Melting Grae
With Kimi back among them, the path to Nethyngal was traveled more easily, and more quickly than it had been the first time. The movement of the Qorghal south had left the forests free for the more common denizens such as deer, fox, and dozens of others to return. Without the Qorghal, the travelers maintained a steady pace, trusting Kimi to be their eyes and ears ahead.
When they were less than a day’s journey from the city, Kimi told them he could smell dragons and Lydria knew the two reds Burvig had told her would go to the city must have taken up residence. And as the sun began to set and the group prepared to make camp Hokra called for silence while he listened.
“The dragons call for us to hurry forth and join them. We are not far, and they would welcome the company. They say there is no reason to be cautious as the path from here is clear.” Hokra finished as if he had been in a trance. “Did none of you hear them, then?” he asked, genuinely surprised to be the only one who had heard the summons.
Magic's Genesis- Sword of Wilmamen Page 23
