by RG Long
"It's been a month since the last time I had to open up the inn! A family from Beaton came to visit a long lost relative. All blonde haired and blue eyed folk. Two sons and a daughter, plus their mother and father of course. Come to visit their great-aunt. Course the great-aunt turned out to be dead. Still, they stayed a week and then went back home after settling her affairs. Sad tale that one."
Most of his stories were sad ones.
Not many traveled from Thoran on to Beaton and fewer came from Beaton to the gate. It had once been a well-traveled road. One hundred years ago, armies marched back and forth through the city as they sought to conquer the goblins and trolls that inhabited the forest and mountains of Thoran and the plains of Beaton.
When peace was established and the grey skinned were banished to the Maw, the armies quit their marching and trade between the two nations became laborious.
All that was left to populate Mountain Gate were families of the Red Guard and those who had been sent to man the city's fortifications.
"So like it or not, someone here in the gate is kin to someone else, depending on how far back you go," the innkeeper reminded them for the fifth time.
"Why, Susan is my fifth cousin," he added proudly. "Twice removed, as you say."
"Are you related to old Fray, sir?" Jurrin asked.
The halfling liked the Red Guard leader. He couldn't put it into words, but he was fond of his quirks and all. Ealrin certainly didn't understand it.
And neither did the innkeeper.
"My third cousin," he said dryly. Obviously he was not as proud of this as he was his relation to Susan.
Conversation moved on to how to get past the gate as the innkeeper went to busy himself in the kitchen.
"If we lowered ourselves over the gate..." Gorplin thought out loud.
"They'd make sure we never crossed back through," interrupted Lote. "Or they may just decide to come after us because we broke one of Beaton's law. Would you like to tell Teresa we failed to follow orders because of your ignorance?"
The dwarf glared at Lote and stuffed a biscuit into his mouth, upset and defeated.
Several other options were offered up. Most of them involved some type of scaling the wall, sneaking out of the gate, or trying to fool the Red Guard into allowing them across the border.
"Does anyone have any better suggestions?" Lote asked irritably.
"Safety," Bertrom said as he swallowed his spoon of soup.
"What was that?" Lote said turning her attention to Bertrom, who up until this point had been silent.
Conversation around the dinner table halted and all eyes turn to Bertrom, who cleared his throat and began to look very uncomfortable.
He squirmed in his seat and looked like he didn't know what to do with the spoon in his hand anymore.
"Fray told us that the Red Guard’s responsibility is to keep the country safe, right?"
Bertrom was motioning at different parts of the table with his hand as he talked. Ealrin knew he was trying to get them to follow his train of thought.
"So we either have to convince him that Beaton is not safe or that if an attack came the Red Guard couldn't handle it alone."
Several around the table furrowed their brows or gave the food in their mouths an additional chew while they thought on these words.
Tory spoke first.
"What makes you think we can assume that Beaton is safe even now? You know ole graybeard should be able to see reason on that. Nothing would stop Androlion from coming further north. Especially if Thoran falls."
"Thoran will not fall."
Gaflion's voice was loud and clear. Ealrin couldn't tell if the soldier was threatening Tory, or merely stating an irrefutable fact.
Tory looked down at the table sheepishly.
It was Lote's turn to clear her throat.
"None of us want that to happen, Gaflion," she said in what Ealrin was sure was her most comforting voice. Coming from the very commanding elf, however, it still sounded like battle orders.
"We have to assume that it is at least in the realm of possibility. Androlion is continuing to amass soldiers from the Southern Republic and we know that for some reason he has seen fit to use goblins to do his dirty work. If he were to utilize his full force against Thoran today, I'm not sure our country would last the month."
“You must not become so disheartened or so downcast, Lote,” Gaflion said as he went back to his meal.
Ealrin admired him.
Gaflion had fallen hard during the battle with the troll. At least three of his ribs had been broken. He tried to act like it wasn't a bad injury, but Ealrin knew better. He had seen the bruises on him and knew that any off-putting down by Gaflion was all show. He was hurt badly.
“Still,” Tory said, returning to the conversation. “It seems like Fray seems to think Beaton is safer with us on the Thoran side of the border. He doesn't want a part of this war.”
“But he's refusing to believe that he inevitably will be right in the middle of it,” Lote replied.
“So we have to convince him that the Red Guard can't handle the situation on their own. Maybe we could offer him aid?” Tory retorted.
“We were sent to get aid, remember?” Lote argued. “Not give it. And if we can't get past that infernal gate it doesn't seem like we'll even be able to do that.”
A throat cleared behind them.
Marty had been standing at the door to the kitchen for some time apparently. He rested against the frame, a towel draped over his shoulder.
“Sorry for eavesdropping on you, but I may have an answer for your troubles,” he said as he walked to the table with a tray full of bread.
Gorplin snatched some from it greedily.
“Fray may be a fool and a law crazed leader of the Red Guard, but he's superstitious to his core. I once saw him spill a pinch of salt and nearly empty the rest of his container over his shoulder, thinking some ghost might come get him if he didn't.”
He eased himself into a chair he drug over to the table and positioned himself between Ealrin and Bertrom.
“The last person he let through here was a suspicious looking character. It took a small fortune to convince Fray that he was someone worth allowing passage. Big hulk of a man. Important looking person.”
“Well we don't have a small fortune to help us convince Fray to allow us to pass,” Tory said in a mocking tone. “Should we have packed the treasure chests?”
A quick glare from Lote made him hush.
“Tell us more about the man,” Lote said. “What was his purpose?”
“Wouldn't tell anyone. But money does a lot of talking, even here in Mountain Gate. Pay the right guard and get your job done. Even Susan has had to cut her budgets and redirect funds in order to see her projects through.”
“What did he look like?” Ealrin said, now curious about this one who made it through the gate. “You said he was suspicious.”
“Definitely a character,” Marty continued. “He carried a fancy spear with him. Finest looking weapon I've ever laid my old eyes on. Wore green and white. I believe it was a griffin design on his chest.”
Lote, Ealrin, and Tory stood so quickly the table rocked. A few mugs and a candle went flying to the floor. Gorplin stood on his chair and waved his ax in fury. Many were talking at once.
“The Southern Republic!”
“A Merc!?”
“How dare he!”
Lote yelled the loudest.
“Androlion’s crest! You let a Merc through because he paid you enough!” she yelled at Marty, pointing a finger at him threateningly.
The poor innkeeper retreated into his chair, regretting that he had entered the conversation.
“Hold on there!” he replied, throwing up his hands. “I didn't let nobody through so don't point fingers at me! And remember, at this point, Beaton isn't on anyone's side in the struggles you all are going through down there.”
Lote sat down, still fuming. The rest followed her example.
“You said he looked like an important person,” Ealrin said, still seething a bit himself but trying to calm. “Do you think he could have been a general? Did you get his name?”
“I remember every name of all my patrons. Unfortunately he only stayed the better part of a day. I didn't get to ask. Fray mentioned it in passing and I overheard, but it was hard to make out. Some funny sounding name. Maybe started with a Z or V?”
“I bet it was Verde,” Tory said, his eyes narrowed.
Ealrin agreed. Ale and anger allowed his words to flow freely.
“So the Red Guard lets a murderer and a general of a madman through with the right amount of gold, but the delegation of a country who is in need of aid is stalled because Beaton doesn’t want to be drug into some war? Pathetic.”
He crossed his arms and sat in his chair.
“What do you suggest we do then, Master Marterior?” Gaflion asked. “We have no treasure, nor apparently, the right motivation to convince Fray we should be allowed access.”
Marty straightened up in his chair. It took him a minute to regain his composure. Ealrin suddenly felt upset at himself for being mad at the innkeeper. He hadn't been the one to let Verde through.
He drank from a mug of ale and began talking calmly again.
“Now that family that came in here a month before said that a part of that dark comet still floating in the sky broke off and landed on the horizon while they were traveling here. Worried them something awful. And ever since that family left, there's been tales of strange things happening on the Beaton side of the gate.”
He paused and leaned in. The few candles on the dinner table gave him a chilling appearance.
“Ghosts,” he said in a hushed voice.
Marty, Ealrin thought, was a good storyteller.
Lote rolled her eyes so hard Ealrin thought they'd fall out. Gorplin nearly fell backwards out of his chair, choking on a mouthful of bread.
“You don't expect us to believe such foolishness do you?” she asked,
Bertrom spoke up, breaking his silence.
"We've already covered the fact that ghosts don't exist," he said with a weak smile.
Ealrin knew how much Bertrom had tried to hide the fact that specters scare him. Maybe he was trying to show Lote that he was over his fears?
Ealrin wasn't convinced.
"I would've said the same thing a month ago, had I not seen them for myself," Marty said a knowing expression on his face.
"Just over the wall on the western side, floating over the horizon," he said as he moved his hands up and down to emulate a floating ghost.
"Are you sure it wasn't one of the halflings dressed up like ghosts?" Tory asked as he looked suspiciously at Jurgon and Jurrin.
Jurrin shook his head and waved his hands innocently.
"To my knowledge none of us little folk have even come this far out of the forest, sir. Let alone gone off to other countries. Allet said we were crazy and the first halflings to leave Big Tree in a century!"
"I know the difference between a costume and something from another world," Marty said incredulously.
"That family saw it, too. They all nearly ran through the gates to get inside. Little monsters floating not three miles away from the wall."
"Goblins," Ealrin said still not believing Marty's story. "That or another troll," he said as he took a swig of the cider from the wooden mug in front of him.
"I've never seen goblins or trolls wrapped in purple flames," Marty said as he reclined back in his chair, with a satisfied look on his face.
Ealrin nearly gagged on his drink. Gorplin flew backwards out of his chair. Lote's eyes narrowed into threatening slits.
That one detail got the reaction Marty was looking for.
Of those gathered around the table, all but three had seen with their own eyes the monster that had attacked them during the battle with the Southern Republic.
A beast covered in purple flame had appeared right after a stone fell from the dark comment. Its supernatural strength had wrecked the forces of Thoran. And its undoing was what claimed the life of Holve Bravestead.
"Not ghosts," she said as one of her fists clenched and she shook with anger. "Some demon, or worse."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She began to talk without looking at Marty. The mood around the table had become somber.
"We are very familiar with the purple flame. A large monstrosity destroyed half our army and claimed the life of the best general I've ever known. If monsters like the one we faced in the south indeed roam the land here freely, your country is in greater peril than you know."
"Plus we don't know how to actually kill the infernal things," Gorplin said as he set his chair back up and rejoined them at the table.
"That may be true. But Fray don't need to know that. Does he?" Marty said with a wicked smile.
"But how are we going to convince him that we know what we're doing when we really don't have any clue?" Tory asked.
Jurgon and Jurrin exchanged mischievous smiles.
"Leave that part up to professional ghosts," Jurrin said.
THE ENTIRE COMPANY, halflings and all, crowded into the officer's quarters the next morning to put their plan into action.
Fray wasn't quite sold.
"But why didn't you tell me that this was the true nature of your expedition in the first place?" he asked suspiciously as he drummed his fingers on his ornate wooden desk.
"We didn't know if we could trust you," Lote said. Ealrin wasn't too sure if she sounded convincing. Perhaps it was because she was the one who liked the plan the least. But since she was desperate to pass the border, she finally caved in.
"But now that we know you are a man who faithfully served his country and doesn't want it to come to any harm, we can tell you the true reason of our journey to the capital."
Now it was Ealrin's turn to continue the deception. Part of it would be easy, because it was truth scrambled up with a little bit of embellishment.
"I have seen the purple beasts myself. Many of us here have. But unlike the people in your country, I've also seen them defeated."
Fray looked back, skeptical.
"I have seen the purple flame. I have seen the creatures that walk the night. I've sent scouting parties to try to learn more about them. None have returned."
He paused as he considered them. Ealrin felt bad for their trying to deceive him. He probably had sent soldiers he knew well and trained to go find out about the monsters. To not have them return must have been a hard blow.
"You are saying that you are better trained and more knowledgeable than even the Red Guard?"
Ealrin wanted to ensure the next words he spoke were done so carefully.
“Not better trained. I've heard tales of the Red Guard's superiority.”
This was a lie altogether. Ealrin had never heard of the army of Beaton before arriving at Mountain Gate. But he did want to praise Fray where he could.
“What I do know is that I have seen one defeated with magic. Rimstone, to be exact. The beast was nearly ready to strike out and destroy the entire army of Thoran. Had it not been for the bravery of Holve Bravestead, the renowned general, none of us would stand here today.”
As Ealrin spoke, the room became darker. It was early in the morning and the suns should have been shining brightly into the office. As Ealrin wove his tale, he noticed Jurgon mumbling under his breath and twisting a small glowing charm in his fingers.
“With one blow from his enchanted spear, he struck down the monster and saved his country. Unfortunately, his spear was stolen from us, but we know that it has traveled into Beaton.”
Fray looked right and left at the company, noticing the darkening room and becoming more tense in his chair. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.
“Hey now!” he said, his voice faltering. “What's going on?”
Ealrin continued in his deepest voice he could muster.
“The one who allowed the ma
n who stole the spear that could save his country must repent of this wrong. Or a curse will fall upon his city.”
Ealrin knew what was coming, but still almost flinched as flames sprung up from his shoulders and head, wreathing him in fire.
But he felt no warmth or pain.
“Let us pass,” he continued, arms outstretched. “And you shall be spared.”
The old man nearly fell out of his chair as he looked on Ealrin, horrified.
“You may pass! You may pass! I'll sign the papers!”
He ran out of the room, calling for one of his attendants to get him the travel papers for eight persons.
“Quickly!” he shouted as he passed through the hallway of the Red Guard's building.
The flames around Ealrin went out and Jurgon chuckled as the room returned to its normal light.
“Were those fires to your liking, sir?” Jurrin asked with a sly grin.
19: Miss Greer's Home for the Helpless
Blume gasped as she saw Drake outlined in the doorway to their room, knowing that even if he had only just arrived there, he would have heard her say too much.
“Well, well,” he said as he stepped into the room, pulling down the sheet that was used for their privacy. “A dwarf, an elf, and a girl who talks too loudly to keep secrets.”
He chuckled dryly.
“I bet somebody would pay a lot of coins to find out about you three,” he said as he scratched his chin.
Jeremy had stood up on the bed, making him only come up to Drake's chest. Abigail huddled more into a ball, a look of terror on her face.
Blume stood defiant.
“And I bet your parents would disown you if you turned us in!” she challenged, hoping to buy them some time.
It didn't work.
Drake put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed so tightly Blume let out a small squeal of pain. Jeremy tried to jump on him, but Drake simply shoved the dwarf back onto the bed. His head hit the wall right beside Abigail with a thud.
“And I bet your life that you'll never get the chance to tell them what happened here tonight. Unless you have something better to offer me than...money,” he said. His breath reeked of alcohol. As he looked at Blume, she saw a hunger in his eyes that terrified her. He wasn't talking about anything they had of value to trade.
