Once they were sat under the covering of the cart’s coarse linen body, the three were held in position whilst their ankles where manacled to a solid iron bar beneath their bench. All of this was followed by black hoods being placed over their heads so that they could not see where they were.
“Bit overdramatic,” muttered Luda.
“Silence!” the back handed slap caught Luda on the side of the head, but with no indication as to where it was coming from it had a greater effect than would be normal. Luda slouched sideways, absorbing as much of the blow as he could, though his ears started ringing when the second blow landed.
“Brave buggers as well,” Luda tensed for the next blow but only received a dissatisfied grunt.
They heard the tailgate slam shut, followed by the rustle of the cover being pulled shut.
“No guards?” Vorston sounded almost offended at the fact that they apparently didn’t warrant any further security than this.
“Guess they trust us.” Collett sounded positively cheerful. “At least we should have no problem finding their northern headquarters now.”
“They could just be taking us out to be executed you know.”
“Luda my friend, if they were going to do that they could have just as easily have done it in the palace, less chance of an escape attempt as well.
They are taking us north to their masters.”
“Masters?” Luda might have been a fine warrior and a trusted friend, but at times he could be a little on the slow side.
“Baridon may be the power behind the throne here in Galorn, but he’s definitely not the power we’re looking for.”
“So what do you propose we do?”
“Sit back, enjoy the fresh country air, and wait for the right moment.”
Cal made his farewells to the blacksmith and headed in the direction he had seen Astridson disappear. As well as a full quiver he carried two additional bundles of arrows, a half dozen new bowstrings, and assorted clothing for when they reached the mountains to the north.
His gaze cut through the mist and spied the young Lighter leading a trio of Elf-steeds toward him. Through his work with horses in the smithy he had come to appreciate some of the finer points of their kind, but he had never seen the like of these before.
They stood a good couple of hands taller than any horse he had seen before. A purposeful, striding gait giving an indication of the power hidden within their well-groomed flanks. He also noted that Astridson appeared to be talking to them as he strode alongside.
“Talking to the animals? I think you might finally be losing it my friend!”
Astridson grinned, “If you want to walk to the mountains that’s up to you, but if you want to ride then you’ll have to ask Kosmiir politely.”
“Kosmiir?” Cal still hadn’t quite managed to withhold the grin that had spread across his face when he had first seen the Lighter talking to the steeds.
“That would be Lord Kosmiir to you! Humans! Do we really need to have anything to do with their kind?”
Cal froze in shocked surprise. The voice had clearly been heard, but he would have sworn that no sound had left anyone’s lips. Astridson was struggling to contain his humour at the look on the youngster’s face, the boot quite clearly being on the other foot now.
“Are you alright Master Cal, you look as if you’re hearing voices or something?”
The whinnying neigh that issued from Kosmiir could only be described as peals of laughter, made the worse by the other two Elf-steeds joining in.
“May I introduce you to Lord Kosmiir of the Makkisen, and his companions Maris and Halsturm?” Cal stood dumbfounded. “You didn’t really believe those tales of how the Lighters could talk to the animals did you?”
Slowly the youth nodded. Once again Astridson and the steeds laughed out loud. “My dear friend, we might have a better grasp of moods amongst our brethren of the animal kingdom, but we can no better talk to them than can your averagely gifted woodsman.
The Makkisen are just as intelligent as you or I, it is they that have the ability to talk to us rather than the other way round. I guess it’s true that humans still have so much to learn.”
Astridson turned to face Kosmiir, “My Lord?”
The Makkisen noble briefly lowered his head before the Lighter sprang nimbly up on to his back.
Cal hesitated momentarily before facing the chestnut mare introduced as Maris. “If I may?”
Maris nodded her ascent, though Cal could still feel faint amusement from her. He followed Astridson’s lead and also nimbly mounted.
“Where’s Tamala?”
“Back at the cave as far as I’m aware, probably thinking up more things to moan at me about.”
Astridson regarded the youngster from Fallon’s Glen for a brief moment. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about as far as your young lady is concerned
I’ve seen some of the strangest pairings turn out to be the most perfect matches, it’s a little early to tell for certain, but I think that the two of you are meant to be together for a very long time.”
Asrak stood in the centre of a perfectly circular room. The walls glistened with a purity of whiteness that Tamala had never witnessed before, almost blinding despite the fact that there was no obvious light source for the walls to reflect.
“Where…”
“That wouldn’t be of much use M’lady,” Asrak bowed deeply, “when would probably be a more appropriate question although even that couldn’t be answered with any certainty.
That you were able to bring yourself to this place says more of what I’ve suspected than any of the feats you have achieved thus far.”
Tamala’s brows furrowed as she thought upon that, Asrak silently waiting as she concentrated.
“This place isn’t real!”
“What is real? If you mean is it something substantial that your friends could experience with you then no, it isn’t real.
Is it somewhere you could retreat to in time of need, that is something to consider.”
Tamala regarded the dark robed Asrak for several seconds. “How do you mean? If it’s somewhere to flee to during time of great danger, then I don’t see much use for it if I can’t save my friends at the same time.”
Asrak chuckled. “True M’lady, it would not do to leave friends and companions behind, especially when you may need them for later things.”
“Later things, you make Cal and the others sound like tools to be discarded once they’ve served their purpose,” the pitch and volume of her voice rose steadily as she spoke, “if you believe that of me then you haven’t studied as much as you thought!”
Tamala’s rising anger was not helped by the fact that Asrak’s grin was getting broader with each passing moment. Abruptly the grin disappeared.
“You do well to prove your worth to travel with such people, but reality must be faced. This place was created just for you,” He gestured around the shimmering white walls, “not by I or my brother I might add. Who created it is beyond the comprehension even of someone like myself.
You are not just some poor young girl caught up in a childhood fantasy where your brave knight will rescue you from the tower, defeat the evil lord and save the day.”
Asrak’s own voice began to rise, “You are the Lady Tamala, Sorceress. You willingly travel to rescue your Queen from a truly evil foe with pitiful few resources, and those that you have you must be willing to use.”
Asrak was practically shouting by now, the look on Tamala’s face a cross between horror and pure outrage that someone would talk to her so.
“I would use any resource necessary to save the life of my Queen,” she yelled back.
For a moment there was silence before Asrak spoke again. When he did his voice was barely above a whisper. “What about Cal?”
Cal lightly let himself down from Maris’ back once they reached the entrance to the cave where Tamala and he had been sleeping. A brief glance inside revealed that she was elsewhere.
Gathering his bow and sword, he was already wearing his hunting knife and bracers, he quickly returned to the waiting Astridson and the Makkisen steeds.
“She must be with Asrak or the Light, perhaps back at the tavern.”
Astridson looked thoughtful for a moment. “Somehow I don’t think she’ll be back at the tavern.” He seemed to be trying to sense something, though Cal couldn’t be sure. “Curious, I can’t feel her within the gorge.”
“I thought you couldn’t use magic?”
“I can’t.” The blond haired warrior turned back to face Cal, “All Lighters can feel the presence of those in the gorge, even if we are some distance away. It’s part of the magic of the gorge itself.
So, the question is where has your lovely lady disappeared to?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Both men whirled at Tamala’s voice, the Makkisen suddenly appearing skittish, obviously taken by surprise also.
“How, where? I give up. Asrak?” Astridson seemed to be caught halfway between fright and amusement.
“Yes I was talking to Asrak, we needed a little privacy.” As if that explained everything, Tamala swept past the group and to the pallet she had been using. She hadn’t been carrying anything when the escaped from Mid’gra, but several of the Lighter women had given her items the previous night. Nothing special, just a hairbrush and some cleaning oils, but they were things she was determined she would take with her.
After her talk with Asrak she felt the need to keep some things about her person that reminded her of more peaceful times.
Cal looked toward Astridson with a slight shake of his head. Understanding showed on his face as the former Galorn officer motioned for Kosmiir and the two other Makkisen to follow.
Cal nodded his thanks and swiftly moved after Tamala.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice spoke softly into Tamala’s ear as he carefully wrapped both arms about her from behind.
“No.” He could feel the tension in her. “Yes,” she spun from his arms to face him, “Gods, I don’t know. How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Cal was taken aback by the confusion showing on Tamala’s face. “What has Asrak told you?”
The red-head slumped back onto her pallet, her hands rising to cup her face. Her eyes slowly rose to meet Cal’s and he allowed her to study him for a few moments before she spoke again.
“It’s strange how you can think you understand the importance of something, then you find something that throws all of that right out the window.” This time it was Cal’s face that showed confusion.
“Am I likely to get hit if I point out that your rambling?”
At least this elicited a short laugh. “Cal, oh my Cal, don’t you ever change.” She abruptly stood, throwing her arms about Cal’s neck.
“Asrak made clear a few realities that I had conveniently chosen to ignore recently, that’s all. I’m sorry if I’ve caused yourself and Astridson concern.” Lightly she brushed her lips against his before shoving him playfully backward, laughing as he stumbled trying to keep his balance.
“Now, let’s be off to save our Queen, our friends and the world.” Tamala thrust her arm theatrically upward, striking a pose like those of statues seen around the city of Bor’a .
“Now you’ve definitely lost it.” That statement did earn Cal a punch.
Chance Meeting
The rain had begun to slacken as the Hurricane hove round the rocky headland protecting the eastern flank of the port of Mor Drek. The storm that had hit the day before had not been one of the stronger ones that this area of sea was renowned for, if anything actually speeding their arrival at the main port of the Outer Isles.
Dorrin stood up by the bow of the ship, relaxing in the cooling spray thrown up by the pounding waves beneath him, whilst Farsighter and Esbet stood behind the tiller observing the crew.
Despite all that they had been through in the last few days, none of the crew seemed to be losing their enthusiasm for the task ahead. They had been told of the true nature of their mission the first night after their escape from Galorn, and from the first not a single man had expressed resentment over what they were effectively being press-ganged into doing.
If anything, Farsighter had commented, they appeared to have adopted a ferocious calm that he would normally associate with his own Rangers on the eve of battle. Perhaps not all sailors were the complete waste that more normal people assume. Esbet had nearly choked on a mouthful of rum at that, before joining in the laughter, accepting that the rough humour was Farsighter’s way of dealing with his dislike of the open sea.
Now they could see the harbour of Mor Drek before them. Dorrin felt relief build at the fact that they were at last truly clear of the Galorn navy. Even if they were only a short distance behind and had guessed there destination, they would never attempt to attack them within sight of possibly one of the last outposts of Boraan’s own naval forces.
The harbour of Mor Drek was formed from the worn caldera of a long extinct volcano, the sides reaching steeply up from the choppy waters where the harbour itself had been constructed.
The town sprawled up these steep walls, though a myriad of streets zigzagging their way upward reduced the incline for the ascent from the harbour to the top of the town.
A call from the lookout in the crow’s nest had their eyes scanning the pennants of the ships at anchor.
“There,” Esbet took a moment’s quiet pride in the fact that he had spotted the pennant in question before Farsighter, “definitely a ‘Helmer!”
Farsighter’s eyes were only a fraction behind the seasoned sailor’s. “A ‘Fastship’. Any prizes for guessing the reason Leefselm would send a messenger ship this far east at a time like this?” He cast his eyes sideways to glance at Esbet.
“You’ll get no takers on that particular bet. What has me wondering is that I see two more ‘Helmer’s further into the harbour. The furs they trade in won’t even be halfway through the curing stages yet, so why do we have three ships in harbour at the same time?”
Farsighter let out a short laugh. “My friend, over the last few weeks I have given up trying to guess at such strange things. I just hope that the news is positive for a change.”
Esbet grunted his agreement as he turned his attention from the moored ships to the task of getting his own moored.
It didn’t take a trained eye to see that all was not normal along the quayside. Everyone took note of the soldiers making a very visible presence felt at several strategic points throughout the port, and Farsighter spotted the frigate sat just past the entranceway already rigged for a fast departure.
Seeing a small, but armed, party waiting for them as they berthed didn’t come as much of a surprise.
“Ho! What news the docks?” The greeting was a traditional one amongst Boraan sailors, though the response usually tended to range from humorous to downright outrageous. The frown on the face of the obvious leader of the greeting party suggested that today would be the exception.
“What port?” The gruff tone of voice suggested a man who had not had much sleep recently.
“Nibar’a!” Esbet felt that they might want to hold off mention of Mid’gra until they had a chance to reckon up what was happening here. “by way of Ren. Why? What’s with the show of force?” He swept his arm to encompass the soldiers stood nearby.
The man looked at him as if he were the world’s greatest idiot. “You’ve not heard?”
“Heard what?”
“War, the King is dead, Shalers. You name it, it’s happened!” The man’s shoulders slumped. “We’ve heard also that the Princess is missing as well.” He paused for a moment before appearing to remember himself.
“You’ll have to wait for a search team to check your vessel before you’ll be allowed ashore.” He shrugged apologetically. “Orders of Captain Westrom.”
Dorrin’s ears perked up at the name. “Sorry, did you say Westrom? Nega Westrom?”
“Yes,” the slouch
ed shoulders straightened up fractionally, “what of it?”
Farsighter and Esbet turned their attention to Dorrin. “He was in the class above me during my officer’s training. Not the brightest by far, but solid and dependable, things might be looking up.”
Esbet returned his attention to the tired dockhand. “Inform Captain Westrom that Lieutenant Dorrin Boraan requests an audience.” He’d turned his attention away from the dockside before the words registered with those below.
A short time later all three stood outside the council chamber of the town hall, Esbet and Dorrin in the best clothes they could find at such short notice, Farsighter in his warrior’s leathers complete with sword and scabbard unpacked from his belongings. None had been surprised at how quickly there ‘inspection team’ had turned up once news had been passed that one of the King’s nephews was aboard the ship, and after only a cursory inspection they had been allowed ashore to meet their escort into the town area of the port.
None had failed to notice the larger than usual crowds of people in the streets, a lot obvious refugees from the mainland, and they had felt their hearts start to sink as the implications of the war’s progress sank in. The staff at the town hall had the same harried look of the dock workers. Too much to do and not enough time in the day to do it.
An usher disturbed their contemplations by beckoning for them to follow into the chamber.
The chamber itself was not overly large, perhaps sixty feet wide by forty long, and the bulk of the space was taken up with the table used for council meetings. At the centre of the table sat a uniformed soldier in his early thirties, flanked by six or seven eminent town’s people on either side.
Without delay the usher announced them to the council. “Captain, Councillors, may I present Lieutenant Dorrin and party.” He stepped back as gracefully as his tired legs would allow and quickly left by a side entrance.
Westrom stood and strode round the table, a tired grin spreading across his face.
“Lieutenant, you have no idea how glad I am to see your face.” He clasped Dorrin’s wrist, shaking it vigorously.
Fall of a Kingdom Page 27