The flavor won’t be much improved, Fist said to Edge through the bond.
It seems to make him happy, though, Edge replied.
Squirrel sighed and shook his small head as he began shelling another large seed. 1000-years-old and he’s still just a big child.
Edge nodded in agreement. He had noticed the same odd thing with Gwyrtha. Fist and Deathclaw still continued to grow in their intelligence and understanding all these years after bonding with him, but Gwyrtha had seemed to reach a certain point and stopped in her progression.
I think Stardeon made them this way, Fist sent. I doubt he wanted his rogue horse companions to be very intelligent. It is harder to keep a smart person docile and eager to please.
A half hour later, they ate Lenny’s stew. The meat hadn’t cooked as long as the dwarf preferred, but it was still tender and the spices were flavorful as were the dried bits of vegetables that he had added to the pot. Edge and Fist were happy to see that the dwarf hadn’t made it as spicy as he usually did. Lenny said that was because he was saving his dried pepperbeans for colder nights.
Rufus pulled his rodent out of the coals proudly. He still had a lot to learn about cooking. It was half burnt and half raw, but he seemed satisfied. The huge rogue horse shrank himself down until the flattened groundhog seemed like a decent-sized meal. Then he pulled up several large handfuls of grass and wrapped it around the carcass and ate it like a sandwich. He smiled in contentment, crunching the grass and bones.
“Only a rogue horse,” said Lenny with a grimace.
When everyone had finished their meals, Lenny refilled the pot with the rest of the meat and left it on the coals to simmer and stay warm until morning. While everyone else laid down for the night, Squirrel stayed up to keep watch. After all, he had been in his pouch all day and was the only one that had gotten any sleep during the journey.
Edge’s sleep was deep and dreamless. When Deathclaw woke him six hours later, he felt like he could have used six more, but Fist sent him some energy and he was up and ready to go. The party ate quickly and dismantled the camp, then set off on Jhonate’s trail before the sun cleared the horizon.
At about mid-morning, Deathclaw sent Edge a message through the bond. I found a camp site. There was a battle here. He followed that statement with a series of mental images, showing him the state of the site. Dead goblins lay all around the area.
How old is it? Edge asked.
More than a day. Less than two, Deathclaw replied.
When the group caught up with the raptoid, he had more details for them. It appeared that Jhonate had slain four of the beasts, three of them with her staff and one with her dagger. Her mysterious companion had killed six of them, two with crossbow bolts and the rest with his horrifically wounding blade.
Edge frowned at the numbers. “What were so many goblinoids doing this close to the river?”
Deathclaw held out his hand and Edge saw multiple tiny bone darts lying in his palm. “The Maw’s reach is farther than expected.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Edge said. “If his influence has spread this far from the mountains, why did we only just hear of him?”
Fist grunted, his thick brow furrowed. “If this companion of Jhonate’s is indeed one of the Dark Prophet’s servants, as we suspect, then perhaps the Maw is as well.”
“That’s a definite possibility,” Edge said. Most dark wizards weren’t interested in getting involved with the struggle between the prophets. They were in the business of collecting power for themselves. But at the height of the Dark Prophet’s influence, he had swayed a number to his side. It made sense that he was recruiting them again.
“If the Maw serves the Dark Prophet, why attack one of his servants?” Deathclaw asked.
“What would you say is the biggest challenge that this thief faces on the way to Alsarobeth?” Fist asked in reply.
“Keeping Jhonate from discovering that he is a fraud and killing him,” Edge said.
The ogre smiled. “What better way to gain her trust than to prove himself in battle?”
“Then this fight was arranged,” Deathclaw said in understanding. “This explains the goblinoids’ approach. They tracked Jhonate and her companion through these plains for several miles before the attack, and yet their pattern of attack made little sense.” He bent and picked up a crude bow from the grass. “Several of them had ranged weapons but they did not use them. The Maw must have made them charge in, a ridiculous strategy for goblinoid raiders.”
Edge agreed. The minions of the Maw that he and Deathclaw had faced had used much better strategy during battle.
Lenny had walked to the center of the campsite and was standing next to a small pile of leather bags and purses. “Looks like Jhonate and her pal took the time to loot the bodies before leavin’,” he observed.
“That doesn’t sound like something Jhonate would approve of,” said Fist.
“No, she wouldn’t,” Edge agreed. His wife was very particular when it came to spoils of war. Even after all these years, the traditions of her people still ran deep in her veins.
Shrugging, Lenny upended a few of the bags. A folded scrap of paper fell out of one of them. “Huh. What’s this?” said the dwarf. He opened it and as he read what was written inside, his bushy eyebrows rose. “Uh, Edge. I think thisun’s fer you.”
“For me?” Edge walked over and took the paper from the dwarf. The note was brief and unsigned. Edge bared his teeth.
Don’t worry, I will deliver her to the site unharmed. I suggest you stay in Dremaldria where you are needed. If you insist on following, know this: If you catch up to us I will be forced to kill her.
Fist immediately felt Edge’s fury through the bond and came to his side. “May I see it?”
Edge handed it over wordlessly. Fist read it over, then frowned and took Jhonate’s letter from Seer Rahan out of his robes. He compared it to the note Lenny had found. “Like I thought . . . Edge, this note is in the same handwriting as Seer Rahan’s letter. It’s identical. The paper is different, and so is the ink, but-.”
“Holy hell,” said Lenny. “You think that the seer’s letter is a fraud?”
Edge swallowed, his anger rising as he considered it. If the original letter from Seer Rahan was a fake, then everything that had happened was just a ruse to get Jhonate to follow this man. But if this was the case, why convince her to get named first? How could that help the Dark Prophet? And why leave a note behind for him to find in the seer’s handwriting? If the entire journey was a fraud, surely it was in the thief’s interest to keep Edge thinking that Jhonate was acting under holy instructions.
“I don’t think so, Lenny,” said Fist. The ogre was rubbing the paper of Rahan’s letter in his fingers. “If anyone knows subterfuge, it’s Valtrek and he confirmed its veracity. And Edge, the letter just . . . feels right.” He held it out to him. “Touch it.”
Edge reached out and took the letter from him. “I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s because you’re full of anger,” Fist said. “Let go of it and listen to the bond.”
Reluctantly, Edge opened himself to the power of Peace and let the sword drain his anger away. Then he closed his eyes and let go of the weapon’s power. He reached his senses out towards the letter and this time he felt something. It was faint, but it was there. Something within the bond resonated with the intent of the letter. “I think I see what you mean.”
“Well, true or not, this dag-gum nose-farmer’s messin’ with us,” said Lenny with a scowl. “Tryin’ to put all sorts of doubts in our heads. It pisses me off!”
“Does it matter?” Deathclaw asked, having seen the thoughts unfold in Edge’s mind. “True or not, our only goal should be to slay this thief. We will need to plan our attack carefully so that he cannot hurt her.”
“He won’t get the chance to try,” Edge promised. “The moment they come in sight, I am putting an arrow through his head.”
Their fury stoked, the party followe
d Jhonate’s trail away from the camp and were frustrated to see that Jhonate and her companion had decided not to stop for the night, but had continued their journey northwestward, parallel to the Wide River.
“We shouldn’t have stopped to sleep. They gained on us,” Edge said in bitter frustration.
“It’s a long trip,” Lenny reminded him. “We got plenty time fer catchin’ up.”
They travelled throughout the day and it appeared that they were headed towards the city of Filgren. Edge hadn’t thought they would cross the river there. The city was full of possible witnesses. It was more likely that they would continue up the coast and cross at the shallows. The water was cold this time of year, but Edge and Jhonate had done it before. Yet, when evening came and the lights of the city came into view, it looked like Jhonate and her companion had indeed gone into the city.
“I don’t understand why they would cross here,” said Fist.
Deathclaw hissed in irritation. “This could actually be to the thief’s advantage. Their tracks will be impossible for me to follow in that busy place.”
“Then we’ll take the advantage it gives us and see if anyone saw them cross. Jhonate is well known and the Roo-Tan are rarely seen this far north of Malaroo,” Edge said.
“So we waste hours searching for witnesses?” Deathclaw said, folding his arms, and though he didn’t mention it, Edge knew that part of the raptoid’s reluctance was that he hated being in these kinds of crowds. “Even if they were seen crossing the river, that will only confirm what we already know. When we cross the river, their tracks will be just as well hidden by the city on the far side.”
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” said Edge, though he was just as concerned with this development as Deathclaw. “We do what we can and worry about the problem of finding their trail again once we are on the other side.”
Edge and Fist dismounted from Rufus and they traveled into the city. Even at night, stares followed them from the moment they entered the streets and people kept their distance. Dremaldria was a melting pot of races and cultures, but that didn’t usually include 8-foot-tall ogres and enormous gorilla-like beasts and humanoid dragons.
Several times, members of the city guard rushed up having been called by worried citizens. Fortunately, Edge was able to diffuse each situation by showing them his naming runes. Even though they hadn’t met him before, the guards had heard of the famous Sir Edge and the unusual members of his tribe.
Lenny made discreet stops into taverns along the way inquiring about travelers meeting Jhonate’s description, but these stops proved unfruitful. It wasn’t until hours later as most of the taverns were closing down and shoving patrons out the door that the dwarf had success.
One loose lipped tavern patron overheard Lenny questioning the barkeep and claimed to have seen a strange and beautiful woman wearing green ribbons in a tavern by the docks. When the patron asked for money, Lenny dragged the witness out into the street so that Edge could interrogate him. The man was slovenly and reeked of cheap ale and the stained tunic he wore was embroidered with the emblem of House Roma.
“Do you work for the Roma’s?” Edge asked.
The man looked him up and down and decided it was best to be polite. “Oh, uh thankee, Sir. I uh, repair things for my lords and ladies as they need it . . . and on odd days, I work the docks.”
“And you saw a woman with green ribbons in her hair in a tavern by the docks?” Edge asked.
The man scratched his head. “Well, uh, my memory’s a bit fuzzy at the mo. You, uh, got some coin to loosen my thoughts?”
“You already said it, you dag-burned, biscuit-eater!” Lenny said as he shook the man, but Edge gestured to the dwarf and he let the man go.
Edge drew his sword. The man gasped and yammered as Edge placed the flat of Peace’s blade against his cheek. He forced the blade’s magic to take the man’s emotion and clear his thoughts. “Tell me the truth and tell it quick.”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, momentarily confused, his body growing still. His eyes fell on the ogre and the rogue horse standing behind Edge and he didn’t feel the compulsion to turn and run.
The blade didn’t create a deep connection with someone unless Edge pierced them with it, but just by touching them with it he could learn a lot. Edge could feel the man’s fear being sucked away and when the man spoke again, he could feel the truth of his words.
“I saw the lady in ‘The Wayward Wastrel’. It’s on the dock right by the center wheel. She was a fine wench, dark skin and hair braided all up strange, and her eyes were a kind of green a man don’t soon forget.”
Edge caught a brief glimpse of Jhonate’s visage in the man’s thoughts and for a moment he was tempted to stab him and wring out every last detail, but he held himself back. This man hadn’t wronged her. He didn’t deserve to have his mind violated.
“Can you describe the man who was with her?” Edge demanded.
The man blinked. “He was pretty plain. Just a man in a cloak and hood. A traveler. He and the lady didn’t look too close, if you know what I mean. He laughed and talked and she just sat there with a slight frown on her face.”
The man’s memory of the thief was blurry, tainted by liquor, and Edge could learn little more. He took the sword away from the man’s cheek and held out a gold coin. Lenny frowned at the amount, but Edge didn’t care. “How long did they stay?”
The man winced as his drunkenness returned and his mind began to cloud back over, but he was eager for that gold. “Uh, they left late in the night. I dunno. They were gone when I had to leave.”
Edge put his sword away and flipped the coin to the man. They hurried to the docks, hoping to find the Wayward Wastrel before it closed. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to find.
The Wayward Wastrel was a combination tavern and inn. The facade of the building was well lit with oil lanterns. The sign outside featured a shirtless child carrying a small bag of belongings over one shoulder, his lips puckered in a whistle. They were one of few taverns that stayed open all night to cater to the ferry workers.
Edge accompanied Lenny inside. The common room was fairly clean for a dockside tavern. It smelled of pipe smoke and roasted fish. Since many of their patrons were men on breaks from their nighttime labors, the tables were just as likely to be loaded with food as liquor.
They approached the cheery-faced barwoman behind the counter. She didn’t seem surprised when they asked about the two travelers they were seeking.
She remembered Jhonate right away, though her memories were hazy when it came to describing the man Jhonate had been with. The woman had something more interesting to give them than just his description. She told them that the man had left a note in case anyone came around asking for him. She searched under the bar for a moment, then handed it over to Edge.
The message was written on a small folded square of paper. There was no salutation.
I don’t know if you saw my first warning, but just in case you didn’t I’ll tell you again. I’m taking her where she wants to go. She’ll arrive there safely unless you interfere. If you continue, I’ll make your life much harder. And if I see you, she dies. Please, let her rid herself of this curse in peace.
-N-
Edge frowned. This message wasn’t in the same flowing handwriting as the seer. Also, there was that initial. ‘N’. “Did you happen to catch the name of the man who left this?”
“No,” the woman said with a shrug. “But he and the lady left late. I heard somethin’ about the house ferry.”
Edge left the tavern feeling just as anxious as he had when he’d entered it. Lenny approached the ferry ticket office and was able to get passage on the next boat. The group walked past the enormous water wheel that worked the gears and stepped onto the pier.
Up close the ferry system was even more impressive. The huge links of the chain rattled and clanked constantly as they moved through the gears pulling the ferry boats along. The boats were broad and flat bottomed and were anchored to the
chain at their tips so that they were pulled through the river’s current all the way across.
Each one was surrounded by waist high railings and had hitching posts in the center for horses. Lanterns mounted at the front of the boat illuminated the deck and projected light onto the water. Two ferrymen were assigned to each boat and sat perched on the forward railings, prepared to use long poles to maneuver the boats or push away debris in the river if needed.
Workers pulled a lever to stop movement as the next ferry arrived so that passengers coming from the Razbeck side of the river could disembark. There weren’t many of them this time of night, so it wasn’t long before Edge and his companions could climb aboard.
The boat bobbed slightly with the weight of Fist and Rufus as they stepped onto the deck. Deathclaw looked even greener than usual. He had never liked boats. He wasn’t fond of large bodies of water in general.
When the chain started back up again and the ferry moved out into the water, the boat rocked with the current. It was an unpleasant sensation. Albert neighed, Rufus and Fist chose to sit down, Edge put a hand on the railing to steady himself, and Deathclaw crouched on all fours.
“Was it this rough the last time?” the raptoid asked.
“You ask that every time we travel this way. It’s just a bit rough when we start out of the dock,” Edge replied.
Lenny barked out a laugh. He was standing proudly, his hands on his hips. “Look at you, Deathclaw. A-scared of a little rockin’?”
Deathclaw merely hissed in reply.
The journey passed quietly, the night sounds muffled by the low whisper of the water, only occasionally punctured by the splash of a nearby fish. Once they had grown used to the movement of the ferry, the group gathered in the center of the boat and spoke about the day’s findings.
“What do you think the thief’s tryin’ to tell us by usin’ different handwritin’ on the two notes?” Lenny asked.
Sir Edge Page 16
