by Chad Corrie
Alara sat across from the mage, remaining a silent observer. She’d done so for over half an hour, ever since they’d finished dealing with the guards. Thanks to Gilban and the grace of the gods, they got through the encounter without incident. The three witnesses who sheepishly vouched for them also helped sway things in their favor. And while Rowan had said his piece on some things, he kept it simple, for which she was thankful.
In some ways it might have actually helped, though she doubted how much influence a knight from Valkoria really had over some Telborian city guards. But the less-than-sterling reputation of the dead men was really what helped their case. It appeared the guards were quite ready to look the other way if it meant removing such a thorn in their side. In the end they were just given a stern warning and the toothless threat of having an eye kept on them while they remained in Elandor. Basically not even a slap on the wrist.
She still was amazed at how quickly things had escalated. She’d acted in defense of another, thinking she could resolve things without much trouble, and they ended up killing nearly the whole lot of them. She’d taken some lives before back on Rexatoius, but not like this, nor like their previous encounter with the guards in Altorbia. Was that how it was going to be from here on out? It certainly seemed like it. She didn’t relish the idea, but if she could do a better job leading, maybe the blood loss could be kept to a minimum. Maybe . . . But that wasn’t her most pressing concern.
After finding a suitable spot at the back of the inn, she’d been looking forward to a simple meal, planning for tomorrow, and then some well-deserved rest. Instead, things escalated into an ever-growing debate. A less-than-promising start to what could be a trying set of days ahead. Gilban, seated on her left, was equally silent, calmly eating his stew and bread. On her right Dugan chomped away at the rest of a turkey leg as Rowan and Vinder continued their bickering.
“I’m simply stating the obvious,” Rowan said in exasperation, glancing from Vinder to Cadrissa.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Alara whispered.
“We still leave tomorrow,” said Gilban, “according to plan.”
“And they’re still bleating away like angry sheep.” She sighed.
Gilban’s empty eyes fixed hard upon her. “Then maybe it’s time for their shepherd to step in.” Alara’s shoulders felt the weight of his words.
“The only obvious thing here is that they’re paying us to do a job, not try to rework their plans,” said Vinder.
“Well I’m not being paid,” Rowan shot back, “and I have orders of my own.”
“Then maybe you should follow them on your own.” Vinder’s harsh challenge brought a threatening glare in response, which stilled the conversation faster than a slap to the face.
“Rowan, I understand your concerns.” Alara quickly spoke up, trying to keep her voice soft but firm. “But it’s all been worked out. And everything is moving forward just like it should. You don’t have anything to fear.” She still wasn’t sure what to make of the knight, who seemed a mess of conflicting emotions. “Now, Gilban says you’re meant to join us and you’ve been invited to do so, but if you want to go your own way, you can still do that too.”
“Do you really want us to waste all that time?” Rowan’s question was a mixture of a whine and an irritated growl. “The best way is around the marshes!”
Debate then rose anew as Vinder and Cadrissa engaged in another heated and rapid exchange with Rowan, who stuck firmly to his convictions. Curious, Alara eyed Dugan. The gladiator said nothing, only raised a questioning eyebrow that made the mountain on her shoulders even heavier.
“Maybe not so much bleating sheep,” said Gilban, “as head-butting goats. But you’ve had practice with those, too, if I’m not mistaken.” Alara took a deep breath.
“Listen up!” she almost shouted.
The others stopped their squabbling, snapping their focus squarely upon her. She was surprised herself at the strong tone she heard coming out of her mouth. “The plan was to go through the marshes, and that’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow we’re going to get the rest of our supplies and horses from one of our contacts, and then we set off for the jungle. Now finish your meals and get some sleep. It’ll be a long day on the trail.”
She noticed Rowan was about to open his mouth, but she beat him to the punch. “The matter’s closed, Rowan. Just make sure you’re ready for tomorrow, if you still want to go with us.” Then, without another word, she rose from the table and headed for a flight of stairs at the rear of the inn, pleased she finally was going to bed and putting this day behind her.
“I think it’s time for me to retire as well,” Gilban said, slowly rising from the table, using his staff as a crutch for his stooping body. “It’s been a long and eventful day.” Stepping with the rhythm of his staff on the wooden planks, he made his way to and up the same stairs, without any hesitation or assistance.
“So you’re all going to follow some blind elf?” Rowan asked once Gilban had left their sight.
“A boy should listen to the words of his elders,” said Vinder. “It might give him some much-needed wisdom.”
“A boy? I’ll have you know, dwarf, I’m a Knight of Valkoria—newly pledged, but a Nordic man all the same! And a Knight of Valkoria is worth ten strong men.”
“Hmph,” Vinder puffed through calloused lips as Rowan shot up from the table and stormed up the stairs.
No sooner had he departed than Dugan stood. “Guess Gilban isn’t the only one who’s tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” Once he reached the top of the stairs, he locked his sights on Rowan, who was in the hallway leading to his room.
“Rowan, wait,” he said as he grasped the knight’s shoulder. Facing Dugan, Rowan’s scowl melted.
“I knew you’d see my point. Now if we can just get the others to—”
“The plans are set, Rowan. I wanted to talk to you about something else.” He watched Rowan closely as he spoke. “What can you tell me about Panthora?”
“As much as I know, but it would probably be better to speak in my quarters.” He bid Dugan to follow him. “I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have, and then, when you’re ready, I can—”
“Hold on.” He caught Rowan on the shoulder again. “I’m not looking to join your religion, just learn more about it.”
Doubt crept across the young knight’s face. “All right. You just seemed interested, so I assumed—”
“Well don’t. I just have some questions.”
“Then I’ll do my best to answer them.” Rowan continued on for his room, Dugan following.
“First it was that gladiator and now it’s this knight,” Vinder told Cadrissa after Dugan’s departure. “If I didn’t trust the money being there, I would have left by now.”
“I don’t even know what we need with him,” Cadrissa replied. “Who knows what he’s really after? And why?”
“Like someone else I know.” He drained the rest of his mug, spilling out a few amber streams into his beard before wiping them away with the back of his hand.
“So what are you going to accuse me of now?”
“I don’t know. Should I be accusing you of anything?”
“Would it matter? You already have me marked as the end of the world walking on two legs.”
“All right.” Vinder shifted his chair for a better view of the wizardess. “How about this: you tell me what you’re looking to get out of all this.”
“Why?”
“I’m giving you a chance to prove your innocence.”
“So then I’m on trial, is that it?” Cadrissa sat all the way back in her chair, needling the dwarf with her eyes.
“Or we could just be having a discussion.”
Cadrissa sniffed at the idea. “And why do you want to know anyway?”
“If I’m going to be stuck in the Marshes of Gondad with you all for a while, I want to know what I’m looking at . . . should something unexpected happen.”
“So you d
on’t trust any of us—including Gilban and Alara.”
“No, them I do—at least as far as their money obligates me,” said Vinder.
“But you just said—”
“So why are you avoiding my question?” He began taking inventory of what remained of the others’ meals.
“I could ask the same of you. I thought we already had a similar discussion back on the boat.” She crossed her arms, adding, “What makes you think by helping Alara and Gilban I’m fulfilling some secret goal? I simply seek knowledge.”
“Rubbish!” barked Vinder. “We all took this job on to gain something. That kid, Rowan—he’s on some mission for his knighthood. Probably wants to gain prestige and honor in the bargain. We’re just a means to that end for him. Dugan needed safe passage out of Colloni, and his freedom. He’s probably sticking around now just to get some coin in his hand before he heads out to greener pastures.”
Cadrissa suddenly became extremely interested in the contents of her wooden goblet. “I suppose this is where I confess the marvelous scheme of mine to use this venture as a steppingstone to bigger and better things? Like becoming a wizard queen?”
“A civilized person would.” He began gnawing on the heel of his crusty bread.
“And you count me as civilized?” Cadrissa’s eyebrows lifted with heavy sarcasm.
“They found you in a civil-enough place.”
“Haven is far from civilized. They may act enlightened and behave like refined people, but trust me, they’re far from it below the surface.”
“Then what were you doing there?” He washed the dry bread down with the last swig of ale left in Dugan’s mug.
“Knowledge,” Cadrissa curtly replied. “Haven has a very large and well-admired academy of magic.”
Vinder chuckled, spraying the remaining bread crumbs into his beard in the process. “You mean you were nothing more than a schoolgirl? Alara brought you fresh out of school with us?”
“You think wizards just instantly understand their spells and abilities? All wizards, no matter how great, are students first. Magic requires constant endeavor and study. The simplest misunderstanding or the most minute error can hinder wizards for the rest of their lives.”
“So you learn your trade like a cooper or smith learns his?” Vinder was genuinely intrigued by the concept.
“I’m still learning,” Cadrissa confessed. “It’s a never-ending process, but a rewarding one. But it only comes after hard work and study, much harder work than the common thievery you practice.”
Vinder’s eye widened as Cadrissa drained her goblet of its last bit of wine. “Are you calling me a thief?”
“If dwarves consider robbing the dead thievery . . . then yes.”
“How can you make such wild accusations?” He fought back the deepening heat in his cheeks and neck, hoping Cadrissa wouldn’t notice. He’d been called many things in his life—all without much effect—but getting called a thief was like a knife to his heart.
“Oh, come now, Vinder, even Gilban could see you looting the dead after we dispatched them. You accuse me of foolish ambition, and I could accuse you of joining up solely to loot and pillage.” She didn’t let her gaze leave him, much to his dismay.
“Then you’d be wrong.”
“Using the same logic, I could just as easily propose when we were all left to our own devices earlier today, you went to fence what you’ve found. Why load yourself down with more than is needed in the marshes, right?”
“I did nothing of the sort,” he huffed.
“Then where did you go?” She was enjoying turning Vinder’s argument around—far too much for his liking.
“It was a personal matter.” He desperately searched for a way of flipping the conversation and focus back on the mage.
“See how easy it is to jump to conclusions before you know the facts?” She relented, though obviously satisfied with herself. “A good lesson for both of us.”
It was at that moment Vinder found his opening and struck. “And what about you? Where did you go?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve made arrangements to take care of the books and scrolls I won’t be needing for the journey. It’s going to be hard enough bringing what I do require without having to drag another chest through the marshes too.”
“That same chest you brought back from the boat?” he asked, putting things together. “Why not just leave it there?”
“You can’t be serious,” she half laughed in reply. “I only left the chest there as long as I did because Gilban said it’d be safe. I’m not going to leave it lying around where just anyone can get into it in my absence. The books and scrolls need to be protected and properly stored.”
“Storage? For books? That’s what you did all day?” It was hard keeping the doubt from creeping up his throat.
“I believed you,” Cadrissa pointed out.
He was about to say something further when two burly Telborian men entered the inn.
“We’re looking for a Cadrissa Dalon,” said the shorter of the two.
“That’s me,” Cadrissa said, rising.
“We’ve come to pick up your merchandise for storage,” the same man continued. Both were dressed in common shirts and pants, nothing out of the ordinary. And yet Vinder didn’t think they were your common everyday laborers. There was a certain aura about them he found hard to place. If either of the men noticed Vinder’s studious stare neither gave any indication.
“The chest’s in my room.” She made a motion for them to follow her upstairs, smiling with just enough smugness to ruffle Vinder’s feathers. “Good evening, Vinder.”
He grunted a reply. He’d gotten all he could from her for now. He’d just have to live with whatever might arise on the journey. Hopefully his last journey before putting the Diamant Mountains before him.
He was so close. So very, very close.
He fished out the necklace given him by Heinrick. He wore it around his neck and under his armor so it always remained close to his heart. After briefly studying the sacred image, he kissed the small figurine before returning it to its resting place. He then polished off what food and drink remained before retiring for the evening. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
“Is that so?” Dugan asked Rowan. They’d been discussing Panthora in great detail for the better part of an hour, and so far Dugan hadn’t learned anything that could do him any good. Still, he kept asking questions and the knight kept talking. Rowan, like the rest of them, had been given a room—courtesy of Gilban and Alara—for the night. Dugan understood Rowan had another place he’d been staying. Given how simple and empty the room appeared, the knight apparently hadn’t brought any of his belongings with him.
“Yes,” answered Rowan. “The knights hold to a code based in part on the Sacred Scrolls.”
“And this code . . . it makes you a stronger fighting force?”
“With it, we’re united under one common goal to serve one common mistress—Panthora.”
He could see the bits of dogma poking out of Rowan’s logic—had all night, in fact—but he could tell he was finally getting closer to what he wanted to know. “Fine idea for an army maybe, but no way to live your life.”
“It is if you’re sworn to Panthora and the knighthood,” Rowan offered.
“I guess.” Dugan crossed his arms. “Where does Panthora stand with the other gods?”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s her rank in the pantheon? Is she more powerful than, say . . . Rheminas?”
“Panthora’s the mightiest goddess we humans have!” Rowan was quick in reply. “I don’t know where she might rank with others, but I know she holds first place in my heart.”
Dugan tried keeping his mild frustration from showing. “What else can you tell me about her?”
“Long ago Panthora was a mighty human warrior who united humanity into an army to challenge the evils of her day. She led them to a great victory, but soon the Telborian
s forgot her, though we Nordicans have honored her ever since. Because we held her in such esteem, the gods took notice, showing her great favor by granting her godhood. From then on we’ve celebrated her ascension, spreading her message and love to every human we meet.”
“Wait.” Dugan shook his head as if it would help shift all of what he’d been hearing this past hour into place. “A while ago you said Panthora created humanity?”
“Yes,” Rowan cheerfully replied.
“Then how could she create humanity when you just said she was raised to godhood after being a human?”
As Rowan paused, Dugan waited, trying to keep his amusement in check. He knew Rowan held some strange ideas, but what he’d just heard made no sense whatsoever. It didn’t even hold up to the most basic scrutiny. He was curious to see how Rowan would deal with it.
“The priests say she was a goddess before she was a human. They claim she formed humanity and then helped lead them before returning to her divinity.” Dugan could do nothing but stare blankly at the knight. His humor had melted into a form of pity.
“Dugan?” Rowan leaned forward.
“That’s a real interesting theory.”
“It’s not a theory, it’s—”
“So what really brings you to these ruins? What do you plan to do once you get there?”
The young knight flinched at the statement. “I’m to stop the knowledge hidden in them from falling into elven hands. Same as you.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing else.”
“You must excuse me now, Dugan.” It was Rowan’s turn to be curt. “It’s getting late, and we have a long journey before us.”
Dugan got up to leave. He’d heard enough. Someone like Rowan wouldn’t give him the answers he needed. Any devout follower would raise their deity above any others—he’d been told as much already. And anything they might be able to do would naturally be embellished to fit the high esteem their follower invested in them. Passing their evening talk off as folly, Dugan made for the door. Maybe there were others he could look to for answers.