by BJ Hanlon
Edin grabbed his pack and threw on his cloak. As he approached the door to the duke’s residence, he spotted Merik next to the wall with a couple Por Fen flanking him. How many were here? How many were in Bestoria?
They watched Edin, the other two with their hoods up and their faces hidden beneath them. Merik had his down and stared. Was he trying to intimidate Edin? He was already planning on taking off. What was the point of this? Edin wondered as he left his sword with the guard at the front. He was about to hand the quarterstaff to the guard when he remembered it was the Por Fen ranger’s weapon. He turned to Merik and tossed it.
“I believe this is one of yours,” Edin said and turned before Merik snatched it from the air. Edin felt chilled eyes on him and hoped these two guards were under orders to watch his back.
Heckles were hung around on his neck until he was about five feet in and the door closed behind with a loud rattle that nearly made him jump. Edin glanced over his shoulder and saw no one followed.
He walked through the courtyard with the guards looking down at him as if he were some warrior in a gladiatorial arena, someone there just for their entertainment.
He passed the trickling fountain. In it, a mermaid sat on a rock spouting water from her mouth. Her bosom was large and covered with a pair of shells and somehow the stone eyes seemed sultry.
The guards didn’t even check him before he entered and met the scribe in the antechamber. The door to the duke’s office was shut.
The scribe held out three letters, all were tied together with twine and there was a seal in candle wax on each.
“Admiral Kanee will get you a ship for your friends. Please deliver the other two to High Priest Vewto and Earl Dallest of Carrow. They are all sealed so do not read them, if you please. Also, it’d probably be prudent for you not to announce that you are a mage,” the old scribe said with a comical look that somehow made Edin shit uneasily.
“I thought I’d wear a cap with it embroidered on my forehead,” Edin said, starting to turn.
“Just because he thinks you may be an honest mage, do not think others share his views.” The man said with conviction. “You’re an aberration of the gods’ images.”
“Wouldn’t dream of thinking that. Small-minded folk love their prejudices,” Edin said. “That’s what keeps them from advancing beyond the job of a secretary.” He winked like Grent would have and then walked away.
There was a gasp from the scribe as Edin reached for the door and pulled it open. He didn’t look back. Though for the first time he wondered if the new duke was safe. Was he putting himself in danger by allowing Edin to live?
Edin contemplated it as he walked past the guards. He paused for a moment and eyed them. Neither moved but one made eye contact. Would the duke be betrayed by one of his own? How much was he pushing his luck. For that matter, how much was Edin?
An image of sorts came over him. The duke dead, stabbed in the back, and Edin was the prime suspect. Their lives were now inextricably linked. As long as Edin was within striking distance of the duke. He had to leave and fast.
Edin nearly ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. He hadn’t seen the duke and was now worried if something had happened to him. Something that could be blamed upon him since Edin was up in the same general area.
Edin’s heart thudded wildly in his chest and he felt the energy in the air and summoned gobs toward him. Were there Por Fen in any of these doors ready to leap out? Would the scribe come rushing from the door above and say Edin killed the duke?
Then he heard his name. For a moment, his heart stopped.
Slowly, Edin turned and looked up. Standing on the balcony above him was Sinndilo.
Edin breathed a sigh of relief. He was getting in his own head far too much. “Yes, my duke,” Edin said hesitantly.
“Bring me an army.”
He nodded and turned away. That was his job, his duty according to the prophecy.
But Arianne was out there and Edin’s heart felt heavy. He knew mountains and saw the giant lake in his head but had no idea where they were. He’d have to do some research in Carrow. A lake like that couldn’t be hard to find. But the duke already knew that he was aware of the location of the elves. If word got back to him that he was searching for something else, Edin did not want to think of the ramifications.
Edin nodded at Merik as they left. The man’s two hooded sentinels had disappeared into the day. Edin had a bad feeling about those two.
They left shortly after the group returned to the small home they were supposed to have shared but never did.
It was just after noon by the time they set out. Edin had already killed multiple men and saw the still smoldering tower before it was blocked by the burgeoning forest. Since Foristol, he’d tried his best not to kill anymore humans. He’d failed.
One day he’d stop. He’d put down his sword and retire. Or I’ll be dead.
It took twenty minutes before they were out of the town. It was a lot easier moving on the roads as opposed to backyards when Arianne and he had been hunted.
The troupe traveled in a southerly direction as the road wound again through the forest. There were wheel ruts in the road from caravans, but none of them seemed fresh. A few days maybe? Edin wasn’t much of a woodsman and couldn’t tell for sure.
They walked for a few hours. After a while, some of the area began to look familiar and he thought of Arianne again standing over the giant mysterious lake with huge beasts at the shoreline.
He spotted a tree that looked familiar and something that looked like metal that had been charred. As he walked past it, he saw it was some sort of buckle that had been touched by flame.
This was the spot where the Por Fen Tosoria killed the soldier. The tree was the one they had hid behind.
He remembered the man sniffing, searching out the magi with his nose. Edin’s heart stopped. The Por Fen mages could find other mages. How did he not remember that? Were those two men with Merik part of the Inquisitor’s dogs?
“What was that?” Dorset said from just in front of him.
Edin looked up and saw Dorset looking over his shoulder and then beginning to slow. “Huh?”
“You said ‘yes.’”
Edin shrugged. He looked past Dorset and saw Berka staring back at him. There were accusations in those eyes. “Nothing, just in my own head.”
They camped that night in a small clearing, one he remembered from the first time through. They’d been on the run and scared. It’d been just after he killed the Marquees Sandon.
The man was evil, there was no denying that. His servant and he were murderers who tried to kill the wrong people. Edin closed his eyes and tried to find Arianne in his mind again, in the dream world again…
But nothing appeared. He slept and dreamed, but the dreams were nothing remarkable. Nothing he even remembered.
They woke and broke fast early the next day trying to get some greater distance. Edin didn’t want to spend many more nights on the road. He wanted to get away and search for Arianne.
The next two days were all the same gloomy with scattered drizzles that tickled the leafless forest and the dirt road. It wasn’t enough to turn it to mud or wash it out but it drew on his remaining strength and was terribly annoying.
As the days went on, he felt cold from a chilly wind, despite the white cloak, and the rain continued.
No one said much. The roads were nearly empty of foot traffic, much like the last trip down. All they passed were two caravans, both carrying supplies for the army and their group had to scoot off to the side of the road to give them room to pass.
Edin smelled dead animals on one, meat for the army. He didn’t know how many pounds there were, but it was six wagons being drawn by oxen. The other wagon train had a mix of equipment: tools for the northern wall, swords, armor, tents, and other objects that’d be doled out by the quartermaster when they found their way to him.
The rain didn’t stop and they didn’t make much distance
any of the days. They didn’t have tents and as far as they could tell there were no overhanging rocks or thick-leafed trees that would provide much cover.
The fourth night out of Intelians they stopped and tried to light a fire. It took Berka many strikes on the sparkstone for Edin to finally feel enough of a flame to get a hold of it. The flame seemed to writhe in his hand while fighting the wet damp wood.
Finally, the fire caught hold and crackled but it took a lot out of Edin. Just like the gloomy day and the constant tapping of rain. It took a long while before Edin was finally able to drift off while cold and huddled up near the fire.
Edin woke multiple times and eventually was the last to be on sentry duty. He sat with his back to the fire barely awake and completely exhausted. When the dark turned to gray as the day broke behind the curtains of clouds, he roused the group. They were tired like he was and frowned more than a noble snot that didn’t get all of their presents on their birthday.
“Coffee anyone?” Edin said throwing more damp sticks on the small fire. He pulled out the pot and added the grounds and water to it.
“Of course, coffee you little blotard,” Rihkar spat. “Do you think we’re going to drink water with breakfast?”
Edin shot Rihkar an angry glare but said nothing. They had little coffee, enough for today and possibly tomorrow, but who knew. The rain continued as they ate some damp cheese and damp dehydrated meat. Edin guessed it was ham but couldn’t be sure.
“Why don’t we do some Oret Nakosu to warm up?” Dorset said helpfully.
Edin didn’t even look at his friend and said nothing when Berka spat. “Why don’t you go play with yourself.”
Henny said little. The beast of a man was leaning against a tree and sniffling nearly continuously. He sneezed and shot ashes up onto Rihkar.
“You califoo!” Rihkar shouted, his voice hoarse and he suddenly fell into a coughing fit.
Dorset threw a stick at Berka. “Go play with yourself, ginger boy.”
Edin leaned back and closed his eyes.
“What, is the great and powerful hero of the world too good to look at us now? Do we not fit your idealized group dynamic anymore?” Dorset nearly shouted. Then he sniffed and coughed.
Edin felt the tickle too but held it. “Everyone just shut up!” Edin spat. “My mother used to tell me ‘if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all’,”
“Your mother never left the manor,” Berka said. There was rumbling and suddenly Berka was up on his feet with a mound of earth protruding from where he’d been sitting. Edin heard a rip and saw Berka’s trousers had a slash in them.
Edin laughed. It felt good to laugh but soon it turned into a raspy cough. They were all laughing now, all but Berka.
“Blasted magi,” he muttered as he began to search through his pack for new trousers.
When they finally got back on the road, not an easy task, Edin had to coax everyone with promises of a bed for the night if they could make Carrow.
They pushed harder that day, passing another caravan in the rain. The road was getting sodden and thick ruts began to form that the carts and the oxen followed.
Their boots became heavy as the mud caked on like mortar.
After a few hours, they had to stop. They sat on a fallen tree that had sunken into the ground an inch or so and let the cold, unceasing rain wash over them.
The white cloak of Edin’s wasn’t waterproof and though he was warm in the core, his head and everything below the knee was chilly and nearly frozen. As he sat there, he pondered making the rain into snow and building a shelter out of it like Yechill and he had done.
That got him wondering about Yechill and the dogs and if they were alive. What if they were on their way south and stopped by the army? Edin should’ve warned the duke.
Another regret of his.
Eventually, they started again. There was no way out of the mud and there was no talking. He watched them all shiver and wished they’d have somehow gotten some horses or at least a cart pulled by oxen.
The afternoon turned to black night as the forest slowly began to spread apart. Edin saw the road that led to the winery off to his right and the T-shaped towers of vines all barren in the cold winter of the northeast. When would their fruits begin to blossom? Would they ever again if those nasty, grimy swamps of old made it this way?
There was grass here and at least they weren’t sleeping in the mud. Each would have to get clothes laundered when they reached the city. If they ever reached the city.
In the dark, he again spent much time and energy starting a fire and fell asleep almost immediately. He dreamed of the lake and again of the overlook upon which the eyes had seen. But it was nothing new. It wasn’t someone forcing their way into his mind as it had the morning the lighthouse had burned.
It was a memory of that and in the morning, the picture hung with him. Someone had to know of that lake. There had to be some sort of village in the mountains or maybe just a cabin of someone trying to escape the rule of the nobles.
The dream didn’t offer anything else other than a clear sky and a reflective lake with movement down on the edge of the water. He wondered if it was a view from the northern part of the valley of the elves, though he didn’t see any elves and didn’t see any forests. In the stories they’d always been forest dwellers and the she-elf he’d met seemed to be very at home there.
Edin looked up at the shy gray sky again the fifth morning out and was happy that at least the rain had stopped. Though for how long he couldn’t say. They grumbled again this morning. No one seemed to like anyone else much anymore. Edin understood. This was a terrible journey. At least the rain didn’t pound and they didn’t have to suffer the blizzards of the glaciers. This may have been the worst weather any of them had ever seen.
Heck Dorset and Henny had lived in a bubble of near perfect weather their entire lives.
They got back on the road, watching as the mountains rose in the west, appearing through a fog that seemed to be rolling toward them.
They couldn’t be too far from the city now, a couple of leagues maybe, Edin thought as they started out. At one point, he thought he could hear a scream on the wind but after stopping and waiting for a full two minutes, he thought it was just his imagination.
Later, about an hour into the journey, he thought he could smell smoke but couldn’t see any. To the right, the fog was creeping closer. It was a giant slow bulbous cloud that wanted to smother them like a blanket on a cold night. Though that would’ve been nice, Edin thought shivering again.
“Don’t like the look of that,” Rihkar said from behind them. The eldest of their group, Rihkar was a bit under fifty, and at least Edin saw he’d still have his hair at that age, if he lived that long.
Then Edin noticed what looked like dark shapes, independent of each other and moving near the bottom of the clouds. There was a row of them like some sort of wall that was advancing. How many, Edin didn’t know but the shivers were not from the cold now.
“Hold,” Edin said. He reached out a hand and felt for the wind that seemed nearly still now. The group stood behind him as he summoned what little energy he could find from the surrounding area.
“Let it flow through you…” Rihkar said.
Edin ignored that. He didn’t have time to try something out again. He was too worried, too nervous by the look of that cloud and the black shapes inside it rolling toward them. They were possibly still a mile away and cresting a small hill but to Edin that was close enough.
A moment later he caught onto it and formed a giant gust. He began swirling it around near them and letting it grow.
Someone yelped. “Twister!” but no one ran and soon it was the size of the manor and roared louder than anything he could think of. Edin couldn’t hear anything beyond the squealing of the windstorm before him.
He felt sweat beading down his head and swayed slightly. Someone put a hand on him to steady him. A moment later, he let it burst forth
. It roared toward the advancing line of dark shapes and fog.
Edin didn’t need to be psychic to know what those were, or at least guess what they were.
The tornado was there in less than a minute.
Edin had to close his eyes as it moved further away. He began to hear his companions yelling and heard something. He felt things in the fog and then felt something else fighting him for control of the talent. Tussling with him like one of those wrestling matches Henny had been a champion of.
There was a moment when he thought he had the upper hand. But then suddenly all of the strength slipped from his legs and Edin dropped to the side of the road. He felt winded and exhausted. He sneezed and then fell into a coughing fit. All he heard was “dematians” and felt himself being lifted. A few moments later, he was over someone’s shoulder as they were jogging down the road. He heard rumbling and screaming war cries from somewhere, but he had no energy even to open his eyes and look.
“Carrow!” someone shouted. It was hoarse and he thought it was Dorset, or maybe Berka, but it didn’t matter. They were within sight of the city.
Edin buzzed in and out of the world like a fly annoyingly coming around the head in some game to drive you completely mad. He felt the pain of a thick shoulder driving into his stomach and when he was able to look, he could only see the rear of a massive man, Henny, and the field below his feet.
Then he heard the rushing of the river beneath them. It was near deafening as the water poured forth around the city and into the ocean.
Barely audible he heard shouting. “Messengers from Duke Sinndilo,” someone screamed. “Open the blasted gates, you blotards!” The voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t put a face to it.
He heard shouting from above and eventually the creaking and cranking of chains and a portcullis rumbling open.
Edin forced his eyes open and glanced up. His chest pounded and before him, he saw a pack of dematians running down a hill toward them and the bridge. It didn’t look like too many, but at their front, Edin spotted one that wore bones on his chest and carried a staff.
