“Why? For the gold?”
“No. I want to learn all I can of the weapons that my mother crafted for my father. There is magic in them, and if I am to go to war with the darkings someday, I must learn how to summon it and use it.”
Murlet watched him for a moment. “And you’re certain that the magic is in the weapons – and not in you?”
Brenyn looked away and considered that. Then, he shook his head. “If there was magic in me, why would I not know?”
“I am sorry, Brenyn, I have no answer,” Murlet responded, “and the incident with the darking – which I witnessed – could be explained by the presence of magic in the shield. But what about the first day that I met you? – when you vanished from everyone’s sight for a moment. How is that to be explained?”
“I have thought about that,” Brenyn replied. He held up his hand. “I was holding my mother’s dagger in my hand at the time.”
Murlet frowned as he considered. Then, slowly, he nodded. “That is true.” He went silent again for another moment and then he shrugged. “You will sort it out someday, I am certain of it.” He turned and glanced up at the moon and then stood. “The morning will be upon us soon enough,” he said, “and with it a decision must be made. Thank you for your time and thoughts, Brenyn.”
Brenyn stood. “I’d best find my bed as well,” he answered.
The sun was but an hour in the sky the next morning when the band gathered in the pub once more. Murlet gained the top of the bar and looked around. “I will now ask you to cast your votes,” he stated. “Who among you is for going to war?”
There was a chorus of “ayes” to this.
“Opposed?” Murlet asked.
None answered.
Murlet frowned at them. “Truly? None opposed?”
“I am opposed, cap’n,” Clef Echols answered, “but then you already know the reason.”
Murlet ignored this and continued to watch the crowd. “No doubts?” He asked. “Truly?”
“Five hundred gold is a good piece of money, cap’n,” Len Ganfer stated. “Six for each of us – maybe more, depending on how many of us return.”
Murlet frowned at this last but nodded. “Alright, Beran will go at once and inform Prince Helvard that we are upon his heels.” He held up his hand. “And we must hasten. The forces of Thalia are mobilizing upon his borders even now – if we are to earn our gold, we must be upon the field when the battle begins. There is at least a four-day journey before us. We must pass through Hanfurd where we are known, but after that we must ride very near the borders of Merkland, and there it may get tricky – though Beran has spoken with the new prince of that land and he has promised to let us pass unmolested.”
He shook his head. “But we do not know this new prince of Merkland – Taumus, by name – and we have learned, have we not, often to our regret, that the word of many a prince is of less value than a broken sword. Still, you have voted that we go, so go, hasten, let us be on the road ere the sun finds the top of the sky.”
In fact, the sun was pinned to the apex of the brilliantly blue spring sky when the band left the town, crossed the valley, gained the road, and turned south. This time, when they reached the ford that led across the stream to the east, they ignored that crossing and continued south, toward the hills that defined the southern limits of the valley. The river swung away and rushed through a gap in the hills, but the road went straight on and began winding into the uplands.
These hills were thickly wooded, mostly with enormous and ancient hardwoods, and there was no sign of human habitation, not a farm or even a lumberman’s camp. And they went on and on, gaining neither greater height, nor losing any. In all directions, the mounded hills were thickly clothed with forest. It was a veritable wilderness, and Brenyn understood now why Captain Murlet had chosen to make his dwelling in the valley behind them. Truly, it was away from much of human civilization, even though the road upon which they travelled through this wild region was wide and fine and of ancient origin, as were so many of the thoroughfares that crossed the face of the world.
They camped that night in the vast forest. There was plenty of fuel for fires and springs arose in nearly every hollow. Morning found them once more moving southward and, by mid-day, the landscape began to change. The hills began to grow rounded, the streams grew wider and deeper that flowed through the hollows, and the hollows broadened out and were often filled with grassy meadows. That afternoon, they encountered the first evidence of human habitation – small farms that sat back among the hills with animals grazing behind rough-hewn fences in the grassy bottoms.
Not one farm sat near the road. As the band passed, those few people that were caught out in the fields either hastened into their dwellings or crouched down among the tall grasses, as if in hiding from the armed strangers riding past.
Then, rather abruptly, the hills failed.
A sizeable plain spread out before them, though, miles away to the south, more hills rose up and over to the west, upon the right, they gained sufficient stature to be named mountains.
Here, there was a guard post.
Beran Hile had already passed through and Johan Murlet was known in this principality, so the delay was minimal.
This was the land of Hanfurd. At once, as they left the hills behind them, the numbers of farms and villages increased. Before evening they passed through a large town. At the center of this town there was a crossroads. Brenyn noticed that this junction was similar in configuration to that of the old road upon the ridge north of the valley where Marta had her market.
On the west, the roadways came together at right angles, and the places of business were tucked into these corners. Upon the east side of the crossroads, however, the corners were filled in with pavement, creating, just as at that other junction off to the north, a sort of giant arrow head that pointed eastward, forcing the businesses there, upon the southeast and the northeast, to face into the junction at an angle.
Why had the ancient engineers done this at two different localities? Brenyn wondered, for he could conceive of no purpose for the odd configuration of the road. As the troop moved beyond the town, their pace quickened, and it became apparent that Murlet was anxious to reach the hills that bordered the plains upon the south ere the sun abandoned the sky. That golden orb slid below the western mountains when at last they left the populated plains behind and wound into the wooded hills upon the south.
Though there were many more people that dwelled among these uplands than in those to the north of Hanfurd, the band was able to find a wild place to encamp for the night. The next morning, they passed through the hills and came out onto another region of plains that stretched toward the east.
Here, there was another frontier, the border of Merkland.
And here the delay was longer.
The column waited for most of an hour while the guards at the post perused the paper that Beran Hile had secured from the land’s new monarch, Prince Taumus, and given to Captain Murlet. Whether this delay bore any measure of legitimacy or was instead an outgrowth of the guard post sergeant’s dislike of mercenaries was uncertain.
At last, however, they were granted passage through the border regions of Merkland.
Not far south of the frontier, they came to another junction that Brenyn noticed was constructed, once again, like those others, with the two eastern corners filled in with paving stones.
It was as if the ancient engineers wanted to point travelers toward the east. No one else remarked upon this odd construction of the crossroads, but once more, Brenyn wondered – why?
Here, at the junction, Murlet turned to the right, westward, and led the band toward the mountains. Before mid-day, they entered a region of foothills, long, plateau-like extrusions that spread out eastward from the feet of the mountains, with broad vales in between. There was another junction here and Murlet turned southward once more.
The mountains veered away to the west, but the region of plateaus, thickly foreste
d with vales cut by rivers running between them continued onward. The road wound up over one wooded highland, passed through a vale beyond, and then climbed again.
And then, at the southern edge of one of these many broad extrusions of high ground, they passed through the southern border of Merkland and came to the frontier of Gruene.
Here, there was no delay. Once the guards knew why the band had come, they fairly hastened them onward, telling captain Murlet that, “the armies of Thalia near the border even now. In four days, if not halted, they will be at the walls of Fergus.”
At the bottom of the broad valley beyond another, narrower roadway crossed it and went toward the west where it climbed up onto the height and bent back toward the south. Though Beran had informed Murlet that this road led toward Prince Helvard’s capitol of Fergus, there was a better road further on, near the middle of the next forested plateau, that turned westward and led directly to the gates of the city, so they continued straight on.
As the road wound up and out onto this next level place, the trees to either side rose up great and grand, with trunks like pillars; stout enough, it seemed, to hold up the very sky.
The sun had slid behind the mountains, and Captain Murlet, not wanting to reach Fergus after dark, began to look for a place to bed down for the night. A few miles further on they came to yet another three-sided junction. Here one road went to the left, east, toward the frontier with the wealthy land of Ranlonwald, and the other turned right, due west, deeper into Gruene. Murlet turned to the right, west, and ordered the men into camp.
Fergus, according to the instructions Beran Hile had given him, was but two hours further on.
27.
As night deepened, Brenyn, Jed, and Aron sat by the fire and supped. Brenyn, as usual, was silent, while Jed and Aron talked on the impending birth of Jed’s first child. Then, when the course of that conversation lagged, Aron looked over at Brenyn.
“You are friends with the captain, are you not, Bren?”
Brenyn looked up from the flames, frowning. “Friends? No, not friends, for he is the captain. We are friendly, I suppose. We talk sometimes.”
Aron nodded. “Good enough.” He looked down at the fire and hesitated before looking up again. “What does he think of me – do you know? Has he said anything?”
Brenyn’s frown deepened. “About you? In what regard?”
Aron stared at the fire, struggling with his words. Then he looked up again, and his gaze was filled with anxiety. “About me and Glora, you know. I suppose he knows that we have… become good friends.”
Jed smirked at this and looked away, causing Brenyn to frown at him. Then he looked back at Aron. “You like her?”
Aron nodded. “I do. Very much.”
“And her feelings for you?”
“She doesn’t seem to mind my company,” Aron replied.
Brenyn banished the smile that attempted to form upon his features at this response and forced his face to adopt an expression of blandness. “Johan Murlet,” he told Aron, “is a good, decent, and honorable man. Should you discover that Glora feels the same for you as you for her, I do not think he will object to anything you and she decide about the future.”
Aron’s features brightened. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Aron glanced out into the night, across the camp. “She is here, you know.”
Brenyn nodded. “She always comes with the band.”
Aron frowned. “Does she fight?”
“She is an excellent archer,” Brenyn told him.
“An archer? She did not tell me.” Aron’s frown deepened. “Does she get near the – does she get close to… the thick of things?”
“She is a fearless warrior,” Brenyn answered bluntly. “She does not shrink from the fight.”
“Even in a straight battle? – like that which lies before us?” Aron wondered, and he shook his head worriedly. “I have been in battle and it usually devolves into chaos. Folks die from the flight of a stray arrow or a random sword stroke. I do not like to think of her in such circumstances.”
Jed chuckled at Aron’s distress. “You would do better to worry over yourself, my friend, for I have seen Glora in action and she will likely out-fight us all.”
At that, Aron went silent, though the frown remained upon his brow as he alternately watched the flames consume the wood and glanced out into the gloom of the woodland camp.
At dawn, the band was on the move, westward through the forest of giant trees. Within an hour, they came to a deep chasm with a river frothing along the rocky bottom, perhaps a hundred feet below the rim of the canyon. A wooden bridge, constructed of stout beams and planks, crossed this narrow but deep chasm. On the other side, the road wound up and to the left across a broad, timbered slope, toward higher ground.
Another hour and they came out onto the top of a broad, level plateau where the forest failed or perhaps had been cut down in another age. Here, there were farms and villages and off to the south, the spires of a sizeable city – Fergus, where dwelled Helvard, the prince of Gruene.
At the gates of Fergus, the band was directed around the walls of the city and to the southern side, where, spread across the rolling farmland, there was camped a small army of no more than one thousand men.
Brenyn frowned over at Aron. “So few? Is this all the power that Gruene can muster? Does Helvard expect to stand against the might of another principality by simply adding a few mercenaries?”
Aron nodded. “Thalia, I hear, can muster about the same number – perhaps but a few more. Neither Gruene nor Thalia is particularly large.” He shrugged. “It is what the darkings do. They pit prince against prince, and land against land, usually making certain that when war is precipitated between the thrones that the power that can be brought to bear upon either side is more or less equal. They do not seem interested in allowing any prince to gain a conquest, but rather that the various wars be ever endless and unceasing, along with the attendant misery and death and ruin.”
Brenyn shook his head. “What are they profited by a policy of such death and destruction? Or do they simply enjoy beholding the misery of others?”
“Who can say?” Aron responded. “Perhaps it is but a matter of taking pleasure from the wretchedness that they cause.”
“Are they never resisted?” Brenyn wondered. “Does not one prince ever stand against them when they try to foment war?”
Aron laughed harshly. “There are some of those, I suspect, but when there are two of these tin-crown princes involved, one of them can always be persuaded, cajoled, or threatened into taking action. When there are those that resist and hold fast – or so I have heard – the darkings will simply find another way to betray them and remove them from power.”
“I do not understand this,” Brenyn persisted. “How are they profited by such endless warmongering?”
Aron shrugged. “Why ask me, Bren? Not with gold or land, certainly – for even the red darkings, the lords, seem to take little interest in worldly possessions.”
“Whence do the darkings arise? Do you know?”
Aron looked at him as a wry smile found his face. “Just who do you think me to be, Bren? I know nothing of them – except that which I have heard from others.” He frowned and thought for a moment. “There are those who think that the darkings – both red and black – serve another, some dark master somewhere, likely in the east of the world.”
“Clef Echols states that the Sylvan folk dwell in the east,” Brenyn said. “And, like darkings, they are a magic folk.”
Aron nodded. “So I have heard – though I have never known a Sylvan.” Then he frowned and shook his head. “But Sylvan folk would surely have naught to do with darkings.”
“Why do you say that?” Brenyn asked.
Aron shrugged again. “According to legend, the Sylvan folk are peaceful and gentle – not wicked like darkings. If they dwell in the east and the darkings’ master dwells there as well, then they likely suffer as mu
ch as we, perhaps more.”
Brenyn considered. “If the darkings do answer to a master – then who is this evil lord that they serve, and what is he profited by all this pointless warmongering?”
Once more, Aron treated Brenyn to a sardonic smile. “Why ask me these things, Bren? I know no more than you, likely less, in fact, for you have slain a darking – something no one else has ever done.”
Brenyn sighed and nodded. “Forgive me, Aron. But I will keep asking these questions of everyone – until I learn the truth.”
At that, Aron’s features darkened. “But is there a truth to be learned? It may be that the darkings gain something from human suffering that is, in the end, incalculable – that we cannot know or comprehend.” Abruptly, he lifted one hand and pointed. “Sergeant Kristo is motioning for us to come there.”
The band was moved to the very end of the encampment, over on the left, where there were two other bands of mercenaries already encamped. Captain Murlet was consulting with the other captains as well as with an officer in a crimson coat with epaulettes of gold spilling down over each shoulder.
Jed studied this well-dressed gentleman for a moment and then looked over at the others and grinned. “Pretty fancy get-up for the leader of a tiny army such as this.”
Just then they came up next to Sergeant Kristo, who yet sat his massive black horse. “Picket the horses over there,” Kristo told them, pointing, “and then make camp there, at the end of the line.” He glanced over at the four men engaged in consultation. “Captain will be along soon to give us the particulars. Until then, pitch tents and wait.”
After a while, Captain Murlet, with the well-dressed officer and the other mercenary captains, moved off toward the center of the encampment.
The men pitched their tents and waited, lounging in the limited shade of the few scattered trees. The sun climbed to mid-day, the band ate the noon repast, and still Murlet was absent.
Then, after the sun had passed through the top of the sky and began to slide west, the captain at last appeared and called the troop together.
A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods Page 25
