by Sean Hinn
“This is gonna take forever, Sarge,” Jasper moaned when Oort was out of earshot.
“Then we’ll march forever, Jas. You complainin’? Two gnomes made the trek just yesterday, can’t ye hack it?”
Jasper curled a lip. “Aye, Sarge, I can hack it. But what’re we gonna do when – or should I say, if – we find this crevice? We gonna drop this gnome down the crack, then follow him around while he calls out for Sandshingle?”
“Dunno. Might be we do just that.”
Jasper shook his head. “Ye better think o’ something better’n that, Sarge, or we’re done for.” Jasper joined Kari, Ferris and Oort as Ferris distributed rations.
Jade pulled her cloak tight against the wind, considering the problem for the hundredth time. He’s right, she knew. This be suicide.
She had discussed the problem with Oort as they walked. The crevice, as Oort explained it, led to an area deep within G’naath, likely near to where Sandshingle would be held captive, if she lived. He had said there were but a few tunnels where she could be held without drawing attention, and the one most likely was also the one most guarded, near to where the Elders kept residence.
Jade had decided, on Oort’s advice, that they would descend the crevice at night, when the fewest gnomish sentries would be on duty. Her loose plan, to that point, entailed a swift reconnaissance by Jasper when they reached the tunnels. If Sandshingle were discovered, they would improvise a rescue strategy. If she were not, then Jade, Ferris, and Jasper would execute a thorough search, and do battle with whomever they encountered until they either succeeded or were slain. Oort and Kari would remain on the surface; if the team of three did not return from the crevice by daylight, Oort and Kari were to return to Belgorne. Jade doubted whether Kari would follow the order; Captain Lat certainly would never follow such a directive, and the sergeant saw quite a bit of Latimer Flint in his niece. It was equally unlikely that Oort would obey; the resilient gnome did not seem, to Jade, the type to allow others to risk themselves while he stood idle. No, Jade thought. If we fail, we fail together, and we all die.
Jade was not afraid to die. She had lost her parents in the quake, as well as her three siblings. She had not yet married. She had no lover. She had no one, aside from her scouts. She knew Jasper and Ferris felt the same; Jasper had lost a brother, his parents, and two nephews who were the light in his life. Ferris had lost a wife, pregnant with their first child. The Five were all the family any of them had left; dying, to them all, meant reuniting with their loves ones in Stonarris.
Yet Jade did not want to die, not yet. Not while her captain counted on her to protect Kari. Not while Oort was in her charge, the courageous gnome hoping only to return one day to his wife’s arms, and to see his daughter again. Not while Jasper, Lux, Jade, and Ferris relied on her leadership.
So we don’t fail, and we don’t die, she decided, as if steeling herself against defeat could somehow stave it off. She joined her scouts and Oort, who were huddled under a great pine. Despite being barren of needles, the enormous tree offered some respite from the falling snow, and the ground was still mostly dry at its base.
“How do ye fare, mister Oort?” Jade asked, kneeling beside Ferris. The scout handed her a skin and a few strips of meat.
Oort chewed greedily at his own lunch. He washed it down with the last of the ale they had brought along; Lux had decided the gnome needed it most.
“I be well, Sergeant Jade. Cold, but I can go on. Needed the rest and food, I thank yeh.” He paused for a breath. “I hope Thinsel be well.”
“Lux be probably chewin’ her ear off,” said Jasper. “She’ll be safe with him, long as ye don’t mind her without ears.”
Oort stood, angry. “Why would he chew her ears? What in Mawbottom are yeh talkin’ about!”
“Easy! Easy, Oort!” Kari stood between the incensed gnome and a bewildered Jasper. She placed a hand softly on his chest. “It’s a figure o’ speech. Just means he talks a lot, is all.”
Oort looked around, realizing his error as the dwarves regarded him curiously. He returned to sit against the pine.
“Yeh dwarves are a strange lot,” he said. “Chewin’ ears. Ain’t never heard the like.”
The stunned silence lasted less than a breath before the scouts broke into laughter.
“Ah, yeh laugh it up, now. Fools,” Oort grunted, smiling despite himself.
Kari addressed Jade when the laughter died back. “Sarge, how long ye think we got from here?”
Jade shook her head. “Oort would know better. What say ye, mister Oort?”
“Yeh can just call me Oort. That ‘mister’ bit sounds funny. I’d say we could make it by middlenight, if we kept goin’.”
“Not sure we oughta do that,” Jade argued. “How will ye find your crevice at night?”
“Are ye jokin’? It’s all this blasted light makes it hard to see. Darkens up a bit, I’ll know the way.”
“Do ye never go outside, Oort?” Kari asked.
Oort shook his head. “Yesterday was the first time I seen daylight in years. Can’t say I like it much, makes my head hurt.”
Jade was heartened. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard yet. Thought we’d have to camp out one more night afore goin’ in.”
“Don’t yeh worry, Sergeant. We get close, it gets dark, I’ll get us in. It’s what happens after got me worried.”
Jade stood, signaling an end to their rest. The scouts stood as one. “Naught to worry about, Oort. Ye be in the company o’ the finest scouts in Belgorne, Flint’s Six,” Jade said. “Well, minus two.”
Kari beamed.
XXXXI: MOR
Nikalus’ annoyance at the early ringing of the stable bell was replaced by utter joy when he saw who had rung it.
“Sir Barris! Phantom! I knowed ye’d come back!”
Barris nodded politely to the boy, too weary to reflect the young stablehand’s enthusiasm. He and Phantom had ridden without rest from the Grove. The ride would take an ordinary horseman as long as twelve days, at a reasonable pace. Barris and Phantom typically traversed the distance in under seven. This journey had taken less than four. Phantom’s muscular frame trembled from the exertion; Barris could barely stand.
“Good morning, Nikalus. How do you fare? How are Tam, and your master?”
Nikalus shook his head. “Tam’s gone, sir. Dunno where. Started actin’ funny, never slept, kept getting’ mad at me all the time, then yesterday he just… well, he’s gone. Sir Barris, somethin’ bad be goin’ on here in Mor. Somethin’ real bad.”
The knight frowned as he carefully released the Bond with Phantom. The horse stamped uneasily; Barris’ knees nearly buckled, but he kept his feet.
“Easy, Phantom, easy, boy.” Nikalus took Phantom’s reins and cooed gently at the animal. “Are ya all right, Sir Barris?”
Barris nodded, regaining his composure. “I am fine, Nikalus. A bit tired. What is happening in Mor?”
Nikalus led Phantom into a stall; Barris followed. “Well, can’t say exactly, but people been actin’ funny, and not just Tam. All night I hear ’em, fightin’ in the streets, seems like don’t nobody sleep no more. Well, some, I guess. But all this ash, I think it’s makin’ people crazy. I heared about some people, they work all day, all night, over on the other side o’ the palace. Master says they all been takin’ some kinda magic brew, warned me not to take any, ’cept I ain’t never seen–”
“A magic brew? You mean, a potion?”
Nikalus nodded. “Yeah, potion, that’s what he said. I mean, ain’t everybody takin’ it, but some, and that with the ash, and Fang, and the shakin’, I think the world’s cavin’ in, Sir Barris. The whole danged world. And ain’t no business, neither. Won’t nobody pay for stablin’. Half our regulars took their horses out last few days. Master Argus says don’t something change, he’s gonna hafta close the stables.”
Barris shook his head. “I fear you are right, to a degree at least. I want you to listen to me, Nikalus. Very
carefully.
“If I do not return this evening, I want you to leave, Nikalus, with Phantom. Ride him north, to the Grove, with as much haste as you can make. You will need provisions for ten days. Here.” Barris reached into his clothes, withdrawing a leather pouch. He shook out several coins and handed them to the young boy. “Ten crowns. Give half to your master, and use the rest to supply yourself. Please tell me you will do this, Nikalus.”
Nikalus stared in awe at the small fortune in his palm. “I… I mean, ya, I’ll do it. But… why ain’t ya gonna come back tonight, Sir?”
“I hopefully will. But even if I do, I want you to buy one of your master’s horses and leave for the Grove. It is no longer safe in Mor, and I would see you unharmed.”
“I can’t leave Master Argus, Sir. I mean, I can take Phantom north for ya, but I’d hafta come back. Argus, he been good to me.”
“Then invite him along. When you arrive at the Grove, tell Mistress Pheonaris that you have come at my request. She will see that you are well taken care of, and she could use a good stablehand at the Grove.”
Nikalus shook his head. “Master won’t leave without Tam, Sir Barris. No way.”
Barris sighed. “Very well. But you may keep the coin, in any case. Now I must go. Be well, Nikalus.” Barris reached to pat Phantom. “Be well, my friend.” Phantom snorted.
“Sir Barris?”
The knight regarded the boy.
“Be careful, yeah?”
Barris nodded. “I will.”
~
Barris walked south along Northern Road toward the Palace of the People as the city began to awaken. Had he not known otherwise, he would swear this was not the same kingdom he had visited less than a cycle before. Buildings sat askew on their foundations. Brightly cobbled streets were now blanketed in ash. The normally bustling thoroughfare was nearly deserted; it was an hour past dawn and he would have expected the streets to be filled with citizens of Mor, shoppers making their way to markets, merchants opening stalls, children running about. There were none of these. Save a few vagrants and beggars, with whom Barris shared what he could, the streets of Mor resembled the ruins of a forgotten city.
After an hour’s walk, he reached Kings Way. The markets and stalls on the near side of the circular thoroughfare sat closed. On the far side, Defenders mingled, no longer bothering to stand in any type of formation at all, let alone at disciplined attention. Barris turned west towards the entrance to the palace square and heard the murmuring of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of men and women. He turned south again, over the moat bridge, and what he saw there startled him.
Countless hundreds of people crowded the square, poor laborers by the looks of them. They jostled and shuffled for position, each trying to work their way closer to the palace. They shouted, and pushed, and argued with one another as the crowd compressed near the gated entrance. Barris looked about, seeking someone who might explain what he was seeing. A woman with one leg sat on the ash-covered walkway, leaning against an empty guardhouse. Barris approached.
“What is all this, lady? Why so many?”
The bedraggled woman lifted her eyes. “Alms, Sir? Just a cent piece for an old woman?”
Barris knelt beside the silver-haired beggar. “Here, good lady.” He handed her a gold crown. The woman gasped in shock.
“Shh, now. Do not draw attention. Tell me, what am I seeing here?”
The woman wiped at her face, smearing her dirty cheeks. “’Sposed to be some kinda trial today. Some rich bastard. Ain’t nobody s’posed to know about it, but word got out, and all these folk here come to see.”
“What kind of trial? Of what is he accused?”
The woman shook her head. “That’s just it. Ain’t nobody accused ’im. S’posed to be confessin’ to a murder, s’all I know.”
“And all these people have come to see? Is that unusual?”
The woman laughed. “Unusual? Yeah, elf, I’d say it’s unusual. Don’t nobody come to the palace no more. King likes to lop heads.”
Barris nodded. “I see. Is there another way in, or to the gate? I am expected.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at the knight. Barris took the hint, producing another coin.
“Expected. Hmph. There’s an alley, round that way.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Comes out near the gardens. They’ll stop ya, though. If you ain’t s’posed to be there, you’ll get your head lopped.”
Barris stood. “As I said, I am expected. Thank you, lady. Be well.”
The woman stood, untucking a hidden leg from beneath her dress. She slipped the two coins into a pocket, patting it. “Oh, I’ll be well now, mister!” She broke for the bridge at a run.
Barris smiled, shaking his head. He made his way around the corner to the south, where the woman had pointed, and turned west down the narrow alley. Two Defenders stood blocking the way.
“Lost, elf?” said the one on the left.
“No, not lost. I am expected by your king, and wish audience today.”
The second shook his head. “Not today. Palace gonna be full.”
Barris adjusted his cloak, displaying his brooch.
“Not for me. Your king has ordered my appearance. I will pass.”
The first Defender laughed, grasping for his sheathed sword. “Oh you will, will you? We’ll just see–”
The second placed a hand on the first man’s chest.
“Apologies, First Knight.” He glared at his companion, then back to Barris. “Follow me, sir.”
The three made their way down the alley in silence, turning right when they reached what Barris could only assume had once been the garden the old woman had referenced. A second narrow alley led to the entrance gate. The entrance to the alley was guarded by a half score of armed men. Words were exchanged between the Defenders accompanying Barris and the sentries at the gate, and the three were allowed to pass.
Barris followed his escorts through the gates and into the palace, turning briefly to note the agitated tenor of the crowd behind him. One gaunt man stood silently at the front of the throng, gazing past the guards that stood between him and the palace. His eyes met Barris’ briefly. The knight did not like the look he saw there.
“Hey,” the second Defender barked. “Follow me, and stay close.”
Barris followed obediently. The pair deposited him in the same anteroom he had waited in on his previous visit. Within sat two other men, one middle-aged, one older. The younger man sat quietly, carefully brushing ash from his black leggings. The older man fidgeted; he appeared frightened, nervous. Barris sat across from the two.
“Good morning,” the knight said politely.
“We’ll see,” the younger man replied.
“Oh, would you relax? Pardon my friend. Too much tea this morning. Good morning to you, elf.”
“Barris,” the knight corrected.
The older man raised an eyebrow. “Sir Barris? First Knight Barris?”
Barris nodded.
“Well,” the older man said. “Must be quite a tale that brought you here.”
“You have no idea, mister…”
“Longstock. Gerald Longstock. This is my employer–”
“Vincent Thomison, at your service.”
Barris nodded. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Brief as it may be,” Vincent added.
Barris frowned.
“Again, don’t mind him, Sir Barris. He seems to think he’ll be leaving the palace without a head today.”
“That would make it difficult to leave,” Barris deadpanned.
“Quite. See, Vincent? Nothing to worry about. You do in fact intend to leave, and you certainly cannot do so without a head.”
A trio of Defenders entered the room, followed by a plump man carrying pen and parchment. He began speaking.
“You will be seated in the front of the gallery, and will approach only when your name is called. You will bow, and remain silent until you are addressed by your king.” He
looked up from his parchment. “You all know the rules, yes?” the plump man said brusquely.
The three nodded.
“Good, good. See that you follow them.” He scribbled a note.
“Last time I was here, I sat waiting in this room to be called,” Barris said.
The man eyed Barris. “Yes. Well. You are an elf, after all. But I know King Halsen is expecting you, so today you may join the gallery.” The man snapped his fingers at the Defenders and shuffled from the room, calling behind him. “Come now, follow me, I expect we’ll be a bit crowded today, let’s move things along, shall we?”
~
Sartean D’Avers donned his blackest robes. He then sat on the edge of his bed, lacing his fine grey leather boots carefully to the knee. A brief pose before his floor-length mirror revealed jet-black hair, neatly trimmed, and a long angular face, shaven clean. A glance to his fingers revealed flawlessly manicured nails adorned with ten identical jeweled rings, none so large as to offend good taste, but imbued with powerful magics–magics that may prove useful on this day.
The Master of Kehrlia was in a fine mood. Today will be a day to remember, he thought to himself as he admired his imposing visage. He had not done battle with a wizard in many years, and if a battle were to result from his confrontation with Mila today, it would surely be one for the ages. And, while he would not be there to see it, the drama that would certainly take place at Thomison’s trial that day would be talked about for years to come. Yes, it will be quite a day. He turned to a nightstand and retrieved the two freshly charged stones that would deliver him to the farmlands and back. He placed the glimmering sapphire within a breast pocket. He then beheld the emerald; like the sapphire it pulsed with life, shining and sparkling as brightly as any gem he had ever seen. He supposed it felt heavier than it did when it sat empty of power, though he knew that to be an illusion. Magic had no substance, no mass; none that could be measured, at least. Yet the gem felt more substantial, even when he closed his eyes against its gleam.