by D C Ware
Contents
Title Page-1
Dedication-1
Copyright-1
CHAPTER ONE The King is Dead
CHAPTER TWO Condolences
CHAPTER THREE Arrangements
CHAPTER FOUR Uninvited Guests
CHAPTER FIVE Rendezvous
CHAPTER SIX Statuettes
CHAPTER SEVEN Heirs Apparent
CHAPTER EIGHT Powers Shaken
CHAPTER NINE Pieces Start To Move
CHAPTER TEN The Ferret
CHAPTER ELEVEN Decisions
CHAPTER TWELVE First Blood
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Troubled Waters
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Encounters
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Repercusions
CHAPTER SIXTEEN End Games
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Next Moves
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Climaxes
CHAPTER NINETEEN Struggles
CHAPTER TWENTY Revelations
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Messages
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Actions
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Consequences
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Back Tracking
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Endings
OVERLAND QUEST
D.C. WARE
For those Of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts,
And in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.
Copyright © 2015 D.C. WARE
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
CHAPTER ONE
The King is Dead
Maverick never really liked coming to Foeman’s Cave. But as it was the only tavern in Milestill he came anyway, like just about every other man in the town. However, for some reason today he was particularly annoyed at being here. Brule the owner was in a bad mood and every time he brought Maverick an ale he kept reminding him that his tab was due at the end of this week . Maverick swore if Brule reminded him one more time Brule would have to add the cost of a broken mug to Maverick's tab for the one he intended to break across his face.
But really it was not Brule. He was always gruff, heck he had to be to run a tavern in this town. If anything, with all the chiding he was doing he was somewhat more “talkative” than usual tonight. The truth was Maverick was still upset about the argument he had with Lyla right before arriving. The two of them had spent the last week in Zafton haggling for various seafaring wares they could bring back to town and sell for a quick profit here in Milestill. The problem was now Lyla did not want to sell everything. Apparently, her father, who knew nothing about seafaring had told her that one of the compasses they had picked up was unusual or certainly unique. Something about him having heard of special compasses used by sailors in The Overland that could not only plot a ship’s direction but could warn a captain of bad weather approaching. Her father, who was a Merchant by trade, thought the compass they had found might be one of those. Now Lyla had it in her head that they could get more money for the compass selling it back in Zafton. Which, of course, was true if the compass was what her father said it was. Zafton being a port city would certainly bring a higher price for something like that than the hilly country of Milestill. The problem for Maverick was that he had not been one hundred percent truthful with Lyla about how he came by the compass in the first place. As far as she knew he exchanged it for an old dagger his mentor had given him. The truth was he had stolen it off a ship setting sail for the day right before the two of them left town.
“The Crimson Oar” was the name if he remembered correctly. And now Maverick was afraid that the captain or navigator would certainly have noticed the compass was missing by now and if it was that valuable they would certainly return to Zafton and start making inquiries about anyone trying to sell it. Inquiries that would lead them to Maverick and Lyla if they returned to sell it.
'Blessed be the One', he thought as he took another draft of his ale. He would not worry about that right now. He had just enough coins left from the items they had sold to buy two more ales and clear his tab at the end of the week. After that he would have to look for work in town again which probably meant going back to Old Lady Marlow’s storehouse and tying and baling hay. The work didn’t pay that well but it wasn’t all that hard and if Lady Marlow was away he could catch up on his sleep in the rafters before and after each shift.
But for the life of him Maverick never knew why they had to bale hay into 'squares'. Why not 'bag it' or 'bulk it' on a wagon?
“Damn you boy, touch my elbow one more time and I'll kill ya!!"
The man’s voice startled Maverick out of his reverie. Who was this clown? And who did he think he was yelling at? Maverick didn’t even remember touching his elbow. Apparently he had been rocking back and forth in his stool and the rocking had caused his elbow to keep swiping up against the loud mouth’s elbow.
Maverick ignored him and sat up in his stool so the rocking would stop. After a short but intense stare the old grizzled patron went back to his drink and his friends.
“Lads these days, have to teach them to respect their elders” the man said. His friends grunted and groaned their approval of what he was about to say next before he even said it.
“When I was that boy’s age, all we knew was war. One clan warring with another or the land being invaded from the Southlanders or those vile creatures from Glorn overrunning everything in hordes. It was the King I tell you that put an end to all of that. He and his knights rode up and down the length and breadth of this land bringing justice upon every transgressor that had afflicted his people. A right good man I tell you. A right good man. Nothing good will come of his passing. Do you hear me, nothing good!”
Maverick was stunned. Did he just say that King Overlord had passed away? That King Overlord was dead? Rumors were all too common this far from the castle but rare indeed was the man who dared to spread a rumor of the King’s death if he had not received the news on the surest authority.
“Brule! Brule come here. I wish to settle my tab!” Maverick called Brule over to see what he had heard of this rumor.
Brule stood at the table wiping his hands on an apron tied to his waist.
“Now don’t be closing out your tab early if you are just going to be coming back tomorrow and the next day before the week ends. That messes my books up and I get one week’s tab mixed up with the next.”
"You let me worry about that Brule." Here is your 30 silver pieces. That’s for last week and this.
“Very well and thank you Young Maverick.”
“Hey, Brule what is this talk of the King being dead.”
“Well it’s more than talk son. A knight and three of his kind rode in here this morning looking for the mayor and bearing news of the king’s death. As far as I can tell it is official.”
“CRAAAAAASH!!!!!!!”
Maverick’s empty mug hit the floor. A knight brought the news! He was stunned. Before Brule could react to Maverick dropping and breaking the mug. Maverick threw Brule three more silver pieces for the mug, grabbed his heavy coat and started out.
Stopping only to kick over the stool of the old clown that had threatened him earlier.
“Boris you fat oaf you have never fought in a war in this life or any other; and if you ever threaten me again I will break your fat nose.”
She didn’t know why she always let him trick her. Lyla knew Maverick was not just going to Zafton “to trade” but she needed the money as much as he did. So she went along and pretended to believe his tale. And it had worked out well after he “found” the compass.
Up to that point the trinkets and ship nails they had bartered for would have scarcely earned them fifty gold pieces each back in Milestill. But as soon as she saw the compass she knew it was no ordinary compass.
Lyla’s fa
ther used to be a merchant and she saw the type of compass’ he had traded before and knew this one was nothing like them. For one thing the compass had two magnetic needles instead of one. One was silver and one was gold. The compass dial had four colored quadrants with labels that read “fair”, “rain”, “storms”, and “winds”. The silver needle seemed to point true north like most compasses but the gold needle pointed to one of the four color coded quadrants. The needles alone would command twenty gold pieces on the street in Milestill. But back in Zafton, a true shipping city, she believed the needles and compass would command five times that much. She had hoped to devise a ruse to get Maverick to return to Zafton with her where she would slip away and find a buyer but that was before her father went and told the stubborn oaf what the compass was worth. Now he absolutely refused to go back with her and worst yet he refused to try and sell it.
But that wouldn’t do for Lyla. Her little brother, Tristan, had contracted an incurable illness some months back returning with their father from his last trading expedition to Wooddam. They had cut through the Swallowing Swamps and Tristan had come down with the illness then. Most people called it Swamp Fever but her friend Midas, a healer, told her it was not a fever. The only thing that kept it from getting worse were “healing potions” she had been buying from Midas. But at ten gold pieces each she could barely afford two potions if she sold the compass in town and Midas told her that she needed at least six for Tristan to fully recover.
That being the case, with or without Maverick, she would be going back to Zafton.
Maverick needed to see the Mayor. Normally trying to get a personal audience with the mayor was something that would take weeks. And if the news about the King was true he didn’t have weeks. Even if it was not true, just the rumor would set events into motion in the Overland once the rumor spread that would give rise to a series of crises in and of themselves. So he needed to get in to see the Mayor now and there was one person in Milestill that held the perpetual ear of the mayor… the local Healer Midas.
Midas’ back was to Maverick when he entered the room. Midas was slowly pouring a clear solution into two pocket sized bottles. Maverick didn’t know whether to say something and interrupt him or just wait. But Midas spoke first without stopping what he was doing “Is that you Maverick?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I was expecting you ever since Lyla left.”
“Lyla? What does Lyla have to do with this?”
“Your trip of course…to Zafton?”
“She told you about that? By the One! Then she wonders why I don’t want to go back hawking around Zafton with her.”
“It’s not what you think. Besides, you know how she feels about curing her brother.”
“Yeah and you told me not to tell her that I knew. Why do you think I invited her with me to Zafton in the first place. It was your ‘suggestion’ if you remember so she could afford more of those healing potions of yours.”
“Of course I remember. Which is why I was expecting you. To get me to talk her into selling the compass here.”
“Actually that’s not why I am here. I need you to get me in to see the mayor… today!”
Midas stopped pouring and started wiping his hands with a soft white towel next to the vials. Midas was young, perhaps older than Maverick but not by much. He had soft features but not feminine. His hair was short, dark and tended to fall down onto his forehead. Maverick always thought Midas was tougher and had far more knowledge of the rest of the world than he tried to show. He had seen his share of battles and by extension, his share of death. In a word, he was old beyond his years but far from jaded or callous. It was just part of him and he was at peace with it.
“What makes you think Mayor Brufson would want to see you? And more importantly why do you think I can get you in to see him today!”
“Because the King is dead!”
CHAPTER TWO
Condolences
Swift rode slightly ahead of the rest of the knights. The King had made it clear that he was not to announce his presence in any town he visited during his mission. The King not only wanted to know who was spreading the rumor of his death but what their plans were in spreading it. The fact that Morcai was somehow involved went without saying but Morcai would have laid the groundwork for whatever he was planning well before setting it into motion with the rumor of the King’s death. That meant there would be others who would take the news as a signal to act and Swift’s mission was to learn the nature of those actions.
Even though the King’s spies had gotten word to him of Morcai’s plot months before he left on his secret mission to Ryder on the Continent of Men he refused to cancel the trip. If war was coming with Morcai, and worst, the minions of Glorn that Morcai had tried to ally with, then the King would need allies as well, powerful allies and in all of Overland the Men of Ryder and the Hard Rider Knights were the most valiant warriors to be found.
Still King Overlord had not left without taking precautions. He had assembled his Bane Knights at King’s Castle during his monthly Royal Breakfast and secretly given each of them instructions to carry out once his ship for Ryder had set sail from Zafton.
Swift’s mission was to move ahead of Morcai’s agents and enter each town with news of the king’s ‘death’. Not only would this lend credence to the rumor but, if the king was right, it would cause Morcai’s accomplice’s to act prematurely.
Already Swift had been to Milestill and Zafton and less than a day’s ride ahead was Wooddam. So far, neither the mayor of Milestill or Zafton had made any effort to conscript Swift and his knights into any larger scheme but that was not necessarily unexpected as each of them would want to use their own means to verify the news and information on their own…something else the King had already made preparations for as well.
Wooddam was different. It was one of the closer towns to Fire Castle – Morcai’s stronghold – and it would no doubt have already heard the news directly from Morcai’s agents so Swift’s arrival would only serve as confirmation.
Swift stopped his horse. Ahead just outside the town five mounted riders were sitting blocking the road. The masks over their faces and their black armor made it clear they were from Fire Castle.
Swift stopped his horse and raised his right arm signaling his squad to form ranks. Lowering his visor and drawing his sword, he muttered softly… “So it begins…”
“Look Maverick even if I get you in to see Mayor Brufson what makes you think he will tell you anything.”
“That bastard Brufson still owes me for the last election. I personally baby sat two of the candidates he wanted to get on the council.”
“You mean the same two whose only opponents died of mysterious circumstances during the campaign?”
“I had nothing to do with that… not that I’m saying that bastard of a mayor didn’t try and recruit me for that part of his ‘campaign’ as well. And the assassinations sure as hell didn’t make my job any easier. I protected those two bastards from at least two ‘official’ assassinations and two riots. So yes Brufson is going to tell me anything I want to know… If I can get in to see him.”
“And you think I can get you in today, why?”
“Because I know you keep him and his guards supplied with free healing potions on demand.”
“How do you know about that!”
“Because he uses Brule to sell them at the tavern for triple their value. Which you would know as well if you came to the tavern with me sometime.”
“You know I don’t do taverns.”
“Yeah I know, now are you going to get me the audience?”
“If the King really is dead then I’ll make him see you. But when you decide what you are going to do, you have to promise to let me know.”
“How do you know I am going to do anything?”
“Because I’ve been to Kings Castle and know things about it that you don’t know that I know. Taverns are not the only places that harbor secrets.�
��
“Fair enough Midas…for now.”
Lyla’s father Roth was old. Lyla’s mother was his second wife. Tristan’s mother was his third. He was 47 when he married Lyla’s mother, and 60 when he married Tristan’s. That was ten years ago and now at 70 he was in bad health and could hardly keep up the work regimen and travel that accompanied his job as a merchant.
In his heyday he could make two or three trips to Zafton and back in a week and once a month he would make a longer trip to places as far away as Wooddam or Futuretown. Once he even went as far as Dwarftown and back – their family lived off the merchandise from that trip for three years.
Now they were lucky if he got to Zafton once – in a month. And worst yet, less trips meant less profit and less profit meant less money to pay for wagons and men to guard them. It was because of this that he had started taking shortcuts through the Swallowing Swamps to avoid encounters with other travelers and potential brigands. Unfortunately the Swallowing Swamps were just as dangerous as brigands and far more hazardous than the roads. It was one of these trips through the swamps six months ago with Tristan where he contracted “swamp sickness”. Midas has just barely saved his life. But he could only treat the wounds caused by the lack of eating and rest that the sickness brought on. The swamp sickness itself could only be cured with very expensive healing potions. The problem was her family could only afford enough to cure the day to day wounds the sickness caused. But swamp sickness was a chronic condition that got worse every day. So every wound they cured was replaced by a new wound the next day. To cure it all at once Tristan would need to take six healing potions at once – something it would take them a month to pay for with the ten or twelve gold pieces a week Roth’s old stock now brought in. And even that was running low.
