“Lieutenant Gilmore, I order you to open your gates and let these people in.”
“Ain’t gonna happen. I don’t take orders from you.”
“Then can you at least go and get your captain? I’d like to speak with him. And keep in mind that we’re not leaving this spot until I have a word.”
If anything, Gilmore seemed grateful to shift the responsibility of deciding what to do with this odd group onto someone else’s shoulders. “Aye, that I can do. Wait there.” This time it was the Lieutenant who left the wall in search of his captain. He was gone for some time, during which Jon was able to get his anger under control. What in the seven hells was going on here? This should be a simple matter.
Eventually, the little door inside the larger gate opened. Standing at the door was a portly man of average height in a captain’s uniform. He looked at Jon and asked, “Are you the captain here?”
“That is correct. And you are?”
“Folks call me Marc. Will you come inside and talk with me, Captain?”
Jon kept his face neutral. “Certainly.” Jon turned to his lieutenant standing next to him and told him to hold their current position. Jon walked through the small door and into the welcoming arms of Locus, reportedly home to some ten thousand souls.
The Captain of the Locus garrison shut the door behind him, and Jon got his first really good look at a city in over a year. The gate was well traveled with wagon tracks that lead in all directions. There was a mud road that ran to the left and right of the gate along the city walls, and there was a third road covered in cobblestone which led straight to the center of the city. Houses and shops lined the streets. Some of the buildings were made of stone, some of wood. They all seemed to be two stories tall with thatched roofs. A half mile ahead on the right side of the main street, Jon could make out the towers and slate roofs of Locus Castle. Up ahead on the left side of the main street, Jon could see the spires of the Basilica of Fortuna in the distance.
Most human gods would have a temple in a city as great as Locus, but the Basilica of Fortuna was easily the largest. It was said that during the Year of Angels, Fortuna herself descended from the heavens to the very spot where the church now stood. Years later, devout followers of the Lady of Luck built an immense temple in her honor.
Captain Marc led Jon past a common barracks building where he saw several soldiers lounging lazily. He led Jon into a private room attached to the barracks. The chamber was modest and probably served as the Captain’s private living quarters. Two guards were stationed directly outside the door, but inside they were alone. Captain Marc sat Jon down at a small table with two chairs and a lantern. He poured them each a glass of wine. “How many folk do you have with you, Jon?”
“Some four hundred citizens and two hundred soldiers escaped the frontier town of Endwood with me. We left with nothing and some have died along the way, but we have fared well considering.”
“And what is it that caused you to abandon your post, Captain?” Jon didn’t care for the man’s choice of words, but he was at his mercy, asking for help. He went through the whole story in some detail. Captain Marc listened patiently and did not say a word. When it was all over, the Captain said, “That is quite a tale. I’m not sure I believe any of it, but you are here now and it seems pointless to debate the matter. I’m sorry my subordinate was rude to you and yours, but he does speak the truth. We have troubles of our own. The garrison of Locus can’t handle another six hundred mouths to feed, even for a short time.”
Jon sat back in his chair and carefully considered his next argument before he spoke. “We had farms along the way that refused to show us charity. We ended up forcibly taking what we needed at sword point. Can’t you do something similar here? Can’t you take food out of the city stores for the good of six hundred hungry citizens?”
“We don’t have the power to take that kind of action. Everything here in the City of Locus may look fine on the surface, but we are barely holding on. You and I both know this city is run by the Talon Thieves Guild. They own everything. The lord of the city is their puppet. There isn’t a day goes by where a soldier of mine doesn’t disappear without a trace. The ones that ask too many questions are disposed of quietly. The ones who are worth having are bribed with good gold to abandon their posts and join the Guild. The ones who aren’t worth having are frightened under pain of death to leave the Guild to govern themselves. I don’t see that there is much we can do for your refugees, so I’m afraid I will have to turn them away. You should keep a few of your officers with you and march for Jewlian. The King will have no choice but to take you in. As for the rest of your soldiers, I will be taking them under my command.”
Jon let the moment hang in the air as he looked up from the table and stared directly into the Captain’s eyes. “What?”
“I hate to do it, but like I said, we’re barely holding on to Locus as it is. I need your two hundred men to shore up my position.”
“By what authority do you take my men away from me? We are the same rank; my men answer to me.”
“True, but unless I miss my guess, you have been recently promoted to captain, and yours was a battlefield promotion. Am I right?”
Jon inclined his head to indicate that it was true. “Then I am the senior officer, and I will take your men under my command.”
In reality, Jon was happy to let Captain Marc take command of his men since he couldn’t feed them anyway. But he couldn’t leave the four hundred civilians undefended. Not after everything he and his had been through. And if he was to be denied entry to Locus, then he needed his soldiers to look after them. “You can take my men as long as you take the four hundred civilians who are traveling with them. None of them are beggars. They are all skilled farmers, blacksmiths, and lumberjacks. After a brief period of charity, they will contribute more to Locus than they take.”
“As I said, I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”
Jon stared at Captain Marc with good cheer on his face and malice in his heart. “Do you fancy a promotion, Captain? Perhaps you would like another assignment? One more suited to a life of ease and comfort.”
The Captain was not bright enough to see the noose he was putting around his neck. “It’s true, I must say. I would do almost anything to be assigned to another post. Open war would be preferable to the cloak and dagger games I am forced to play here.”
Jon stopped his fidgeting and stared directly into Captain Marc’s eyes in order to convey the truth of what he was saying. “Well, I can virtually guarantee that you will never get promoted or reassigned ever again if you turn my group of refugees away.”
A frown came to the good Captain’s face and he asked, “Oh, why is that?”
“Because if we leave here without any aid, then most of my group will die on the way to Jewlian. Only I won’t die. Of that you can be sure. And when I get to Jewlian I will tell the King that six hundred of his citizens are dead because you turned them out into the cold.”
Captain Marc went to get up from his chair, but Jon was ready for him. Jon had his long sword up to the Captain’s throat before he could even draw his dagger. Captain Marc opened his mouth to yell and Jon said, “Don’t. Don’t even think of calling your guards, or you’ll be dead long before they get here.” The Captain closed his mouth, put his hands out to his sides, and stood there waiting for Jon to do something. Jon continued, “I don’t need you to feed us, Captain. I just need you to open the gates so that me and mine can fend for ourselves and have a chance at survival. Then I can go before the King and tell him rightfully so, that you did all you could. Now why don’t you sit back down in your chair and let’s discuss the matter like two responsible soldiers of Kentar?”
Jon motioned with his sword for Captain Marc to retake his seat. The Captain hesitated at first, and Jon could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Don’t even think of trying anything. As you say, I’m a newly minted captain and I’ve been to the frontier, whereas you have been sitting behind a desk for far
too long.”
The Captain seemed to decide that cowardice was the better part of valor. He sat down in a huff and asked, “So, what exactly did you have in mind?”
Chapter 41: The New Lord Shetley
For the first time in what seemed like years, Evisar awoke long after the sun had crested over the horizon. Evisar, Jefon, Xander, Valihorn, and Tristan had all stayed up late the night before celebrating a monumental victory with the town of Wessex. The townspeople had rallied under Evisar’s command to defeat a family of towering giants that were using them as food. Evisar knew in the back of his mind that his primary mission was rescuing the First Heir of Armena from his captivity in the Underworld, but he set that commitment aside for a night after his leadership won the day, after realizing his brother was still alive when Evisar had been certain he was dead, and after the wizard Austen told him about the likely location of an entrance into the Underworld. It had been a great day, and Evisar had lived the night as if it were his last, with no regrets.
But now Evisar was awake and thinking about his next move. He sat at the bar quietly sipping black tea and talking to the innkeeper. In between the pleasant conversation and the quiet moments of the morning, Evisar made up his mind to take Austen’s advice and find the entrance to the Underworld somewhere in Darkwood Forest. However dangerous the Shetley Fortress was, he could feel time running short on the First Heir’s life, and they needed to make some kind of progress, quickly.
Everyone else was slow to rise from the party the previous night, but eventually they did emerge one by one. Before Evisar sat everyone down and told them his decision, fate, in the form of Tristan, came to tell him Lord Shetley had sent word that he wanted to throw a feast for all the companions at his keep in order to offer each of them tokens of his gratitude.
Evisar would ordinarily have refused the invitation and continued on, not wanting to waste time on a feast, and certainly not wanting any sort of recognition, but the tokens of gratitude caught his attention. If the rumors about the Underworld were true, then they were going to need all the tokens of gratitude they could get their hands on in order to survive. Evisar was also tempted by the Shetley library. Perhaps the companions could examine the library for proof of the entrance to the Underworld that Austen spoke of the night before. It would also be nice to offer Tristan a proper goodbye. He had been a great help during the giant attack, and Evisar considered him a friend. In the end, Evisar relented and told everyone to saddle up for one more visit to Lord Shetley’s Keep.
The companions had all made friends in the town of Wessex and found it somewhat difficult to leave. Valihorn had difficulty leaving his master and striking out on his own, but it was Jefon who seemed the most reluctant to continue the quest. Ellen came to see him off, and the two lingered by Jefon’s horse long after everyone else was ready to depart. Neither of them was jealous or bitter, but rather they were a couple completely at ease with one another. Ellen kissed Jefon with a want and feeling that was genuine, while Jefon drank her in like a rider heading into the desert. Evisar realized his brother must have been tempted to stay, but what was important in the end was that Jefon hopped up on his horse and rode off with the rest.
By midafternoon, they were at Lord Shetley’s gate once again, and the guards let them into the Keep without trouble, which was a refreshing change of pace from the cold reception they received on their first visit.
Once they were inside the gate, the lead guard said, “Captain Tristan, I’m afraid your friends will have to leave their weapons here just as before.”
Xander piped up immediately. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The guard looked regretful but insistent. “Lord Shetley makes no exceptions, even for those who save the town of Wessex.”
Tristan turned to reassure them. “It will be all right, my friends. I give you my word.” With the assurance given, Evisar, Jefon, and Xander disarmed themselves. Tristan kept his weapons, of course, and Valihorn had no weapons to relinquish. After the weapons were set aside, the guards led the companions through the main courtyard and into Lord Shetley’s private residence.
They proceeded up some stairs to the second floor and were led directly into Lord Shetley’s private dining room. The companions each took a seat and were offered refreshment by a servant. Lord Shetley soon came to greet them with several aides and his son in tow. Evisar was reminded again of how old Lord Shetley looked, and he noted with annoyance that the Lord’s disposition had not improved.
“So you finally made it, eh? I was beginning to wonder.”
The companions stood up around the table out of respect for the Lord of the Land. Tristan came forward and went down on one knee. “My Lord Shetley, we were successful in saving Wessex from the giants. They will not trouble the town any further.”
Lord Shetley looked cross, “I know that. Otherwise, why would I have sent for you and your companions? I haven’t completely lost my mind, Captain.”
Tristan accepted the rebuke. “Yes, my lord.”
Lord Shetley looked up from Tristan and gazed at each of the companions in turn. “When last you were here, I believe the rest of you swore yourselves into my service, yet Tristan is the only one down on one knee. Perhaps elves don’t keep their word.”
Evisar gritted his teeth and managed to hold his tongue. This was intolerable. They risked their lives to save his town, placing their mission in jeopardy, and this was the welcome they received. Evisar and Jefon exchanged glances; Evisar reluctantly went down on one knee and inclined his head toward Lord Shetley. Jefon and Valihorn did the same.
Lord Shetley smiled and took on a more gracious tone. “Rise and be seated.” He circled around the table and took his place of honor. “I understand I missed quite the party last night. Everyone is hailing you as heroes. By my count I still lost both catapults and a ballista, though I suppose it is a small price to pay for the safety of Wessex. You know, in years past the loss of two catapults would have meant nothing, but that was back in the days when ...”
Lord Shetley’s son stepped in to interrupt. “Father, you promised to release these companions from your service once the giants were dealt with.”
“I know that boy. I was getting to it. You just be sure to keep your place.” The son took a step away as Lord Shetley turned back to the companions. He took a long look and then sighed. “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any. I will keep Tristan as the captain of my guard, but the rest of you I release from my service. Now that the formality is over, let us celebrate and talk as men.”
Lord Shetley motioned to his servants along the wall. Soon there was a fire roaring in the north and west fireplaces, and the first course was being brought from the kitchen below. The room became noisier throughout the meal as a dozen different conversations evolved, and somewhere in the middle of the feast Evisar began to note that every guard, aide, and servant in the dining room came up to Tristan to shake his hand. Everyone seemed most eager to talk to the hero of Wessex, and it became obvious to Evisar that somehow credit for the victory against the giants had been laid squarely on Tristan’s shoulders.
Evisar also noticed with concern that every time a servant gripped Tristan’s hand Lord Shetley took note. Things continued this way for a good while until Lord Shetley’s voice rose above the din. “So, Jefon, the last time we met you caught my attention with your love of books and your interest in my family history. Would you still like to see my library, or were you feigning interest to gain my good favor?”
Jefon was sitting four chairs down from Lord Shetley, so it took him a moment to realize Lord Shetley was talking to him, and still longer to remember his first conversation. “I would never feign interest, my lord. I have always been a student of history, and your story seems most intriguing.”
“As a token of my gratitude, would you like to examine my library this evening?”
“I would like that very much, my lord, but I don’t want to miss any of the festivities.”
“I’
ll see that the feast continues all day, and I promise to summon you when the roast pig arrives.” Lord Shetley did not wait for an answer as he turned to his son and said, “William, will you take Jefon to the library and see that he has everything he needs?” This was given to his son as a command, rather than asking it as a favor.
William seemed a little surprised, but responded kindly enough, “Certainly, father. Jefon, please allow me to show you the way.”
Before the two could leave the hall, Evisar wasn’t totally surprised when Valihorn spoke up. “My Lord Shetley, may I see your library as well?”
Lord Shetley seemed pleased by the suggestion. “By all means, my young wizard, please follow William.”
Evisar felt some slight reluctance as Jefon and Valihorn left the hall, but then they were gone and the door was shut behind them, and the conversations continued around the room. Lord Shetley let the warm smile of a host cross over his face as he leaned over to converse with one of his aides.
___________________________________
Valihorn, Jefon, and William left the Lord’s residence and walked downstairs to the open courtyard. On the walk across the courtyard, the young lord made small talk with the ranger and wizard. Valihorn decided he rather liked this young lord as he seemed proud, but wise enough to understand the needs of his people. The three entered the library tower, and Valihorn climbed the circular stairwell to the second floor with a bound in his step. He was eager to explore a library that spanned a thousand years of history. The sight did not disappoint as he walked into the library and saw shelf after shelf of dusty old tomes. Never before had he seen so many books in one place. Jefon nodded his head in approval, but Valihorn was slightly annoyed that he did not show more reverence for the awesome sight before him. Of course, Jefon had grown up in the Armenien capital of Bethel, which probably had a library spanning ten thousand years of history rather than a single millennium.
Do the Gods Despise Us? Page 5