Zellohar

by Chris A. Jackson

  "Kelfer Keeselson's the name. Very pleased ta make yer acquaintance." He shook hands with Shay while Avari examined the workmanship on a breastplate. "Will ye be lookin' fer anything in particular, er just lookin'?"

  Shay introduced himself then nodded toward Avari. "Actually, we are looking for a few things for my friend."

  Avari joined the two, grasping Kelfer's hand firmly.

  "You've got quite a selection here. You must keep a smith working full time just to keep you in stock."

  "Nay, lass, although I do a brisk business," the burly man smiled warmly. "But I see ye'll not be buyin' a sword today. That looks to be a fine one ye got there already."

  "My father's weapon originally," she said, slipping the blade from its scabbard and proffering it for inspection.

  The merchant ran his thick fingers over the blade, testing its edge with a scarred thumbnail, and working the hilts to make certain the wrappings were tight. Finally he drew a soft cloth from a pocket of his apron and wiped the blade, then returned it to her.

  "A fine sword, lass, and from the looks of it, a proud owner. But enough o' this. Here I stand inspectin' yer own blade, while 'tis the reverse should be." He took a step back and spread his arms wide. "What'll ye be wantin', then? Perhaps a short blade to work with the larger? Or maybe yer lookin' to fill yer quiver. I've some of the finest arrows in all the northlands." He waved at a case of cunningly fletched shafts with diverse heads.

  They found that the man was not only a master of arms, but also a master at haggling. Shay bought a small wooden shield, while Avari chose a larger bronze-plated one. A set of steel greaves were fitted for her thighs, and hard leather bracers for her forearms. Shay insisted on a helm, though she thought it looked silly. Avari also purchased an extra dagger with a boot sheath and a score of arrows, though not from the selection the shopkeeper had indicated, since they were unbelievably expensive. They left the shop with just enough money and time to get a hearty lunch.

  Jundag lazed on the edge of the fountain waiting for them, chewing an apple core and eyeing the winter sky. At their approach he lowered his gaze and looked them up and down. He nodded approval of their warm cloaks, new boots and ample supplies. As they dropped their packs, Jundag hefted his own substantial load and started up the road with the long, relaxed strides of an experienced hiker. Shay and Avari looked at one another, then again at the big man's receding back.

  "A man of few words," Shay noted. "I hope he knows what he's doing."

  "Let's hope he knows what we're doing," she corrected in a low voice, shouldering her pack and starting up the street.

  Shay sighed and followed, hurrying to catch up with his long-limbed companions. This was going to be a long trip.

  CHAPTER 10

  The city walls fell quickly behind as the three travelers struck a rhythm; Avari and Jundag shortened their strides, while Shay lengthened his. The half-elf had not the stamina of the warriors, but he was considerably lighter on his feet, negotiating icy patches that left his companions slipping and skidding. They walked beside the snowy fields, occasionally striking out over the farmland and picking up the winding road when it crossed their path once more.

  Avari's had loved tromping through the snow since childhood. The land was bright and crisp and new, the blanket of snow somehow making the day more serene. The cold made her skin tight and her step springy. Passing under one of the tall pines planted as a wind break between the fields, she looked up to see the limbs piled with white drifts. She giggled as she recalled one winter long ago when she had lured her father under such a branch, then hit it with a snowball, sending the whole cold mass crashing down on him. Her cold face felt like it was cracking, but she could not suppress a wide grin. She glanced to the side and found Jundag staring at her, his face unreadable.

  "You find something amusing?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he did not.

  "Nothing, really," she shrugged. "The limbs piled with snow reminded me of a trick I played on my father when I was little." She heard Shay's musical laughter and turned to see a knowing smile on his face.

  "I once played such a trick as a youngster. As I recall, I nearly buried the wife of the town's foremost councilman. As a result, I was compelled to clear the path to their door for the remainder of the season. I remember it as one of the longest winters of my childhood, but one of the few times I saw my father actually laugh out loud."

  The woman and the half-elf grinned at one another and laughed until they had to stop just to catch their breath. The tribesman stared at them then snorted in distaste.

  "Such things were not tolerated in my tribe," he said in a serious tone. "Play is for children, and should be with children. To pass into manhood is to take on the duties of an adult and to serve the tribe with strength and courage. Adults should not be mocked by child's play."

  Shay and Avari sobered as they glanced at one another, then at Jundag. Was this the same man who had shaken the rafters of the inn last night with his laughter? After several more moments walking in silence, Shay finally ventured a cautious inquiry.

  "How old were you when you passed into manhood?"

  The big man narrowed his eyes, wary of being mocked, but seeing the neutral look on the half-elf's face, he merely shrugged and answered.

  "I was ten and four summers when I took the tests," he said, "but please do not ask me about them. Although I am no longer truly one of the tribe, I am still bound by their laws."

  They walked in careful silence after that, each contemplating their own thoughts and enjoying the scenery. After a time, Avari ventured a covert glance at the big man. His face was set in dead seriousness, icy blue eyes scanning the mountains miles ahead. She considered his grim mood in comparison to the joviality of the night before. Or had that merely been a sales pitch to coerce her and Shay into accompanying him on this trip? Her anger flared at the thought that she might have been manipulated with a few compliments and a promise of good pay.

  She looked him over again, this time critically. Jundag looked like a warrior, that was true enough. He moved with power and balance, and sported a multitude of weapons. The only ones she remembered from the previous evening were the long sword and a hatchet. Now she could see not only those, but also a dagger in each boot top and a short sword with a throwing knife strapped to its scabbard. A bow and an oddly shaped club that appeared to be the jawbone of some large animal were strapped to his pack.

  Another look, studying his face this time, showed her a furrowed brow and squinting eyes, staring as before toward the mountains. The muscles of his jaw clenched and relaxed as if he were grinding his teeth. What could have transformed the jovial warrior of last night into this grim harbinger of doom, apparently overwrought with worry?

  That's it, she realized. He's worried about something.

  She glanced around, but they were still within the farmlands protected by Beriknor. Surely he could not be expecting an ambush this close to the city. Peering at him again she realized that his gaze never left the horizon ahead of them. She squinted into the glare of sunlit snow, but could not discern anything out of sorts. Finally frustrated, she resorted to the direct approach.

  "Excuse me for intruding on your thoughts, Jundag, but is something bothering you? You've been scowling at the horizon since we started this trip."

  He stopped in his tracks and the other two had to skid on the road's icy surface to stop their momentum. They both looked at him, but he just stood and stared back.

  "I am sorry, I thought you noticed the signs and were foolishly ignoring them." He stepped forward and pointed toward the horizon. "Do you see the clouds that look like the tail of a horse?" At their nods he continued. "When these clouds form over the mountains and the wind blows as it does now, from the east, a large storm cannot be far away."

  "You mean a blizzard?" Shay asked, gaping in skepticism at the fluffy clouds.

  "Yes, Shay. By tomorrow the snow here will be as high as your knees, and in the mountains it will be
over your head."

  "But we're going into the mountains!" Now it was Avari's turn to look worried, but the big man just smiled.

  "Yes. It should make travel interesting." He resumed walking, turning back to encourage his companions. "Worry not, my friends, we will have shelter for tonight, at least." At their concerned looks the big man broke into a laugh that was reminiscent of the night before, as if they had taken his burden of anxiety onto their own shoulders.

  True to the tribesman's word, within the hour swarthy clouds tumbled over the mountains, obscuring the peaks from sight. The breeze that had before been only chill, turned biting cold. As the sky darkened and the wind began to lash the tree tops, the companions drew up the hoods of their cloaks and tied cloths over their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed.

  Jundag began cutting long branches from the brush that lined the road, trimming off the smaller twigs and carrying the increasingly large bundle under one arm. The others asked what he was doing, but the answer was garbled through cloth and lost on the wind. It started to snow in earnest as daylight waned, although none of the companions could distinguish whether it was truly dusk or only the eclipse of the storm. The sky hung low, an iron-grey shroud of unbroken clouds, and even Shay could tell that this was going to be no ordinary snowstorm. As the darkness thickened, Shay voiced his concerns about the risk of becoming separated in the gloom.

  "There is a farm house in the pine grove just ahead," Jundag bellowed above the wind.

  "What pines?" Avari screamed, waving her arm at the swirling snow that had engulfed them.

  "Just ahead. Trust me. I spied it before the darkness fell." He fumbled in his pack and withdrew a length of rope.

  "Tie us together," he shouted to Avari, struggling with the huge bundle of willow switches. "Put Shay in the middle so he doesn't blow away." He clapped the half-elf on the shoulder and stood still while Avari secured the line with numb fingers.

  Shay did not want to ask how Jundag could tell direction with the swirling snow obscured everything, so he put his trust in the big man and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without slipping or getting tangled in the life line.

  Despite the half-elf's fears, they soon entered a copse of tall pines. Here the wind eased and the snow was less blinding, although it still fell steadily. They plodded on numb legs until a light loomed out of the swirling mass of confusion. Shay could see a tiny window, the yellow glow of lamplight within.

  They trudged up to the small farmhouse, a stocky structure made from rough-cut logs jointed together at the corners. A few raps at the door brought out an equally stocky man. Jundag seemed to know him, so Shay thought it best to keep quiet and concentrate on not shivering. After a short conversation they were once again struggling through the snow, but this time just the short distance to the barn. Shay thought he just might make it before his legs totally collapsed.

  As it turned out, he was wrong. Unaccustomed to the exertion, the half-elf slipped and no longer had the strength to lift himself up. His companions propped him up between their strong shoulders to reach the shelter. Once inside and out of his pack, Shay collapsed onto a pile of straw. As he fell into the dark pit of unconsciousness, he felt a soft touch as Avari covered him with a blanket, and heard Jundag caring for his pack.

  What a nice feeling, the half-elf thought as he slowly wound down the path to oblivion, to have friends such as these.

  Glurg-ree was in a sour mood as he tromped down the stair, the large bundle bouncing heavily on his shoulder with each step. The fact that he was nearly to the bottom did not help his disposition in the slightest. He was fairly intelligent, for an ogre, which was how he had attained the position of commander of the keep's upper level. But brains were not going to get him out of this particular task. With command came responsibility; the fault for anything that went wrong rested upon his shoulders.

  He stepped from the stair into the Hall of the Fallen, nodded to the guards and turned right toward the captains' wing. The corridors of this level were relatively quiet. Most of the barracks and training facilities were deeper, leaving more-than-ample space for the officers' quarters. Lord Darkmist had an entire wing of rooms to himself on a lower level, which he had converted into sumptuous quarters with a library, laboratory, private training room, and even a small temple.

  Maybe, someday, Glurg-ree thought wistfully, me live in such a place.

  He finally reached the door of his superior officer, one of Darkmist's Dukarr captains. Thank Mortas he did not have to report to one of the two rock trolls; they settled disputes by having both opposing parties for dinner, literally. He pounded on the door timidly—which was still hard enough rattle the hinges—and waited for an answer. Glurg-ree had already made up his mind that, this time, he would insist that his complaint be delivered to Lord Darkmist. As the door opened he shrugged the parcel off his shoulder and let it drop at his captain's feet.

  "It 'appened again. Two times in t'ree days," Glurg-ree announced, holding up three meaty fingers to emphasize his calculations. Though he held up the correct number of fingers (he was smart...), he was off a bit on his figures (...for an ogre). "It" had happened three times in four days, since he was also counting the patrol that had never returned. The last straw had been the crossbow bolts that shot out of the night, killing two of the four orcs on guard duty. The others had searched for the assassin, but had been found stabbed with their own belt knives, as if suicide was preferable to returning empty handed, which was probably true. The four bodies now lay at the Dukarr captain's feet. Captain Tornex toed the bundle.

  "And what do you want me to do about it, Glurg?" he asked, craning his neck to look the ogre in the eye. His hand drifted to a pouch at his hip for the proper spell component, just in case the ogre decided to get nasty. They had been known to do that.

  "I wan'cha ta tell Lord Darkmist, so's I can get more troops and catch da liddle orc poker afore he offs half uh my company!"

  The Dukarr captain waited until Glurg had calmed before he answered. He did not want to anger the ogre. Though confident of the outcome should a fight ensue, he also valued the sub-captain and would hate to have to kill him.

  "I cannot interrupt Lord Darkmist. He left explicit orders not be disturbed while studying and said that no troop movements, aside from the existing patrols, should take place."

  Glurg-ree snorted. "But if I still do one patrol a day, like he said, I barely got enuff to keep da top level manned. If we gets trouble, dere's only a handful of us to fight it."

  "Glurg," Captain Tornex explained, "we will be declaring war on the upper lands soon, so you will have even more deaths in your squads. And the patrol is only two days overdue. You have my permission to punish them when they return." At this, Glurg-ree brightened. "If you are so concerned, you can take this to Lord Darkmist yourself. But when you hammer your way into his study, don't mention my name."

  Glurg-ree snorted in derision at the notion of confronting Darkmist alone in his own chambers. "Ya, right, and get turned inta a slug er somethin'? Sure." The ogre turned to leave, having once again lost the argument.

  "Glurg!" Tornex said. The ogre stopped and turned, regarding the Dukarr as if he were something to eat.

  "You know the rules. If you are not going to take this to Lord Darkmist, then dispose of it properly."

  The ogre shrugged his massive shoulders, grabbed the bag in one huge hand and gave his captain one last scowl. Then he turned to obey, dragging the bundle off to the kitchens.

  CHAPTER 11

  Avari jerked awake as pain lanced through her leg. She thrashed under her cloak to knead the cramped muscle, but her leg refused to move. Bolting upright, she wrenched the limb straight. As the pain ebbed, she lurched to her feet and tried to walk the stiffness out of her joints.

  "Did your dreams suddenly attack you, Avari?" The tribesman's calm tone brought her around with a start.

  Jundag sat tailor fashion in a mound of hay. The pile of willow switches he had
cut the previous day lay to his left. To his right lay a smaller pile, already barked and split lengthwise.

  "You've been busy," she noted, stretching the last of the cramps out of her muscles. "What are those for?"

  "Come," he motioned. "Sit here. I will show you."

  She limped over and eased herself onto the straw.

  "Our priestly friend still feels the rigors of yesterday," Jundag remarked, motioning with his chin to the snoring half-elf, lying heaped where he had fallen the night before.

  "Here," Jundag continued, pushing the bundle of switches over to Avari. "Split these in half the long way, and try to keep the two halves the same thickness. Cut off the last two hand spans or so, just where it becomes too thin to be strong." As she applied his knife to the wood he smiled and said, "Yes, like that."

  Grunting to his feet, he rummaged through his pack and dropped a small slab of dried beef into her lap.

  "Eat heartily," he mumbled around his own mouthful of meat. "I fear this is the closest any of us will get to a meal today. The storm has not let up and we dare not have a fire in the barn."

  He walked past her toward the barn doors and bent to retrieve three long pine boughs that still dripped with melting snow. Avari noticed that his hair and boots also were wet; he must have harvested the branches this morning.

  What are those for? she wondered. She tried to speak as he dragged the soaking limbs toward her, but the tangy piece of jerky hanging from her mouth hampered her efforts.

  "Are we building a sleigh to travel over the snow?" she finally asked after gnawing off a corner of the beef. The meat was tough, but flavorful.

  "I thought of that, but we would need horses to draw it." A wink betrayed his jest as he hacked at the boughs with a small hatchet from his pack. He knocked off the smaller branches and cut the length to about the height of a man, then began shaping it into a rough square.