Dawncaller

by David Rice

  “Oh, strange folk stayed there a fortnight ago. Think they were them Rajalans? Said not to rent it out to anyone ‘till they got back.”

  “Really?”

  “Left a heavy chest there. None a my business.”

  Corebit smirked at the lodge owner. “Scared o’ strange folk in this business or just couldn’t open it?”

  The owner feigned innocence

  “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you, Master Corebit!” the owner gushed. “Anything you want. Just name it.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Corebit said dryly. And, without a further word, Corebit effortlessly pulled his luggage towards the top floor.

  When he arrived, he spent ssome time examining the heavy wooden box for tricks and traps. Satisfied, he could open it, he made short work of the lock and tossed the lid back. Small bars of gold, and ingots of Rajalan silver stared back at him. He whistled and his smile almost split his lips. “Poor bastards,” he whispered to himself. “They probably never heard o’ finders keepers.”

  By the time the sun had reached its zenith, Corebit was aboard a small ship heading directly south, luggage and all.

  ***

  Plax had to rest so he roosted atop the largest inn of Splintjack where he could watch the ships rock with the tide. He tried to stay awake as best he could but exhaustion claimed him.

  When he woke, he was shivering and he took a moment to realize that he had transformed back into his normal form. Fortunately, the sun was starting to rise and most of the town was too weary or too drunk to look up. He pulled himself into the shadows and forced himself to transform once more. This time he chose the shape of an albatross. They were on the ocean and it just felt right. With those wings, he could soar for leagues, and his body ached so much he couldn’t imagine working harder than that.

  His body jolted with recognition when he spotted a stubby fellow gliding several boxes far too easily aboard one of the smaller ships. Was that the hunter? The one who shot Siandros?

  Did those boxes hold Dria and Eko?

  He waited until the ship cleared its moorings and its sails grabbed the newest ocean breeze. Then Plax stretched his wings and launched himself from the inn. He spiralled upward and turned to follow the ship, letting the sun warm his aching body and the wind carry him like a dream.

  ***

  Siandros followed a total of three paths to their ends. The first two revealed devious gnome machinations that he kicked to pieces. By mid-morning, the third path had led him to a rickety hunting lodge that reeked of poorly tanned hides, gutted fish, and unwashed human vermin.

  When Tyrin alighted discreetly behind the lodge, he could already see that Siandros had beaten him there. Had beaten everyone there, actually.

  As Tyrin stepped through the doors, he was assaulted by the iron smell of fresh blood.

  Siandros, standing behind the bar, dropped a limp body and began cleaning his blades.

  “Dria was here,’ he said simply.

  Tyrin looked around at the precise carnage. “We’re too late?”

  Siandros shrugged. “A gnome hunter named Aldo Corebit is taking her to Graniteside as a gift for the King.”

  Tyrin pushed away nausea. “We have to stop him.”

  “I can’t exactly walk on water,” Siandros spat. “But I am going after her.”

  “No sign of Eko?”

  “Don’t care. Let the rest of Longwood fawn over him.”

  Tyrin looked outside and considered the winds and the weather. “I could get us there faster than walking.”

  “Really?” Siandros said. “Both of us?”

  Tyrin’s eyes sparked with determination. “If you are up for the ride. All you have to do is hang on tight.”

  Siandros stared as Tyrin waltzed out the door. “I’ve done it before,” he stated confidently. Then he transformed into a gryphon.

  Siandros blinked twice, secured his gear and cimbed on Tyrin’s back. “What are you waiting for?” he said. “That pig-sty was just a practice run for what I have planned.”

  Tyrin felt his gryphon’s muscles ripple down his spine and then he launched into the air majestically and turned towards the distant walled city. He hoped that, this time, there would be no crossbows to greet them.

  V

  Engram was surprised to discover his crew already assembling on the dock. He called to his First Mate, Taylar, with the standard, “Ahoy!” Then followed with his personal gesture for Get yer ass over here now.

  Taylar rushed aboard, his eyes like white saucers. “Captain, the crew wants to go fishin’ early today.”

  Engram’s eyes narrowed. “We brought in a boatload of catch two days past. What’s the real story?”

  “Elves in the woods, and those at the hunting lodge all murdered. Looks it was like elves. Probably fixin’ to torch the town so we thought the sea’d be the best place to be.”

  “Hmmfh.” Engram started pacing. “Get some fresh bait aboard before there’s a rush for the harbour. Anyone actually see an elf?”

  “N—no,” Taylar stuttered. “But some seen the work o’ their weapons on the bodies. An’ some heard their music. Some others said they even saw a gryphon flying over the town heading south. And an elf was riding it!”

  Engram stifled a laugh. “Some sea air will clear their heads. Good job coming right away. Get ‘em aboard and put two lookouts up top.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Taylar began issuing a volley of orders.

  Engram looked to sea. Flat dark clouds out there. Rain later. Could be good for fish. The he noted the small sailing boat slipping its way into the harbour. One mast and only requiring a few crew. He knew some boats like that and they were all the property of nobles. But why one would venture all the way here was an intriguing puzzle. His skin crawled when he recognized a tall thin man with an eyepatch standing at the prow.

  “Taylar,” he shouted, “Get them moving faster.” He began to ready the sails himself.

  “Aye, Captain.” Taylar joined his men in heaving supplies onto the deck.

  The Evalyn pushed away in record time.

  Taylar climbed to the quarter-deck and joined Engram at the wheel. “When are we coming back, Captain?”

  Engram peered across at the town. The man with the eye-patch had disappeared into the biggest inn. “Might be awhile,” Engram replied slowly. “Depends on the weather.”

  “I hope we loaded enough salt,” Taylar commented.

  Egram whispered tersely to his First Mate. “keep the men busy and relaxed. We’ll do some fishing, but the main thing today is not to be caught in anyone else’s net.”

  Taylar took a moment to absorb Engram’s message and then nodded soberly. “Understood, Captain.”

  While the man in the eye-patch was busy fleecing the locals for information, the Evalyn was escaping to sea.

  ***

  Ashak led Grash-kouk carefully from their cave north of Splintjack. Despite the rockhard bear droppings and ineffable funk, it had been a cozy vantage point from where the harbour and town could be observed to the south. They also enjoyed a distant view of the dark rocky beaches to the north where the ocean crashed against the shimmering edges of the Whitemantle mountains. Ashak smirked. Of course, it was only a view he could enjoy. How the blind Seer Grash-houk observed the world was as mysterious as his perpetual smile.

  “We go north along the water’s edge,” the Seer proclaimed. “A modest path will deliver someone who seeks us.”

  After cycles in his company, avoiding riots, enduring imprisonment, and escaping dungeons, Ashak new better than to second guess his companion. Still, he had to know a bit more about Grash-houk’s expectations for the day.

  “Someone seeks us?” Ashak inquired.

  Grash-houk nodded. “He channels the weave and carries with him a great and broken power. But even the broken are useful to the One.”

  “How will he find us?”

  “Like a moth finds the light,” Grash-houk smiled. He whistled an obscure tune tha
t seemed to be snatched up by the ocean breeze to be transported away like lost feathers.

  “So he is the elf you seek?”

  “He seeks us,” Grash-houk corrected with a smile.

  “And when he finds us?”

  Grash-houk shrugged. “A boat waits for us in the harbour.”

  Ashak grimaced. He was not a comfortable sailor.

  ***

  Eko emerged from the undergrowth like a butterfly from its cocoon. He blinked against the better light and attempted to discover his bearings. As his eyes adjusted, he realized two forms were sitting close by. The weave was gathering around the older figure like a cloud being patiently knit.

  “Greetings, elf sparkweaver. I have forseen your arrival.”

  Eko’s heart skipped. The speaker’s voice was being altered by a charm to produce perfect elven. They were dressed in fine silks, modestly coloured, and moved with a conserved grace. Their eyes were brown, their hair dark, and their skin tanned by a lifetime of sun.

  “You are Rajala?” Eko ventured. “Why ar you here? I don’t understand.”

  Ashak stood first, and his muscular form and silver swords made Eko flinch. “I am here to protect, not harm,” Ashak said. “I have come to understand that the Seer guides well despite his glassy eyes.”

  “A boat awaits,” Grash-houk added pleasantly.

  “You’re here to take me to your people in the Great Yellow? The Topaz Sea?”

  “Of course,” Grash-houk replied. “You have been led here for this reason.”

  Eko let out a long bewildered sigh. Then his words came in a staccato rush. “The drakes. You stopped them. Your ancestors. I must know how.”

  Grash-houk nodded. “You have brought something powerful. Something broken. It will prove essential,” he said gently.

  Eko frowned. “If you are going to help me, we need to go now. I’m being followed.” Grash-houk held out a frail hand towards Ashak. “There is a small boat that has just arrived. We can take that to sea.’

  Ashak scowled. “I am no sailor. A small boat on the ocean will not round the Hook.”

  Grash-houk smiled. “We have friends who have been searching for us. The boat will take us to them. They will take us where we need to go.”

  Eko and Ashak both shook their heads and fell into step with the Seer. Unsolicited, Grash-houk began quietly reciting aspects of Rajalan history for Eko to absorb.

  As he listened to the Seer, Eko finally understood something about his mentor, Alvilas, and then the thought made him flush with regret. Eko fought to hold his tongue. When time was a priority, there was little use in asking questions when the answers only led to more questions.

  ***

  Lord Theal, Harbourmaster of Graniteside, burst into the hunting lodge, stepped idly over the bodies, and rushed up the stairs. Once the hammering of his boots came to a rest, his cry of rage echoed from the rafters.

  “It’s gone!”

  Theal’s companions arrived on the landing outside the room and gasped for breath. “What’s gone, Your Grace?”

  “Nothing you need to know,” Theal snarled. “It was here. Someone has stolen it. We need to discover whoever that was and chase them down.”

  “In our small boat?”

  Theal sighed. “In whatever it takes. Get down to the harbour, start asking questions, and find me ship worthy of us.”

  “Right away, Your Grace.”

  Theal watched his hirelings storm down the stairs. What would they do if they couldn’t recover Gothert’s hoard? What if it got into the hands of Lornen before they could use it for their own purposes? His mind was full of storms. These were the best King’s Heroes that Koppinger could spare? Or did Koppinger want him out of the way for awhile?

  When Theal returned to the town, he was instantly met by his companions, and their faces were plastered with apologies and fear.

  Theal adjusted his eyepatch. “What now?”

  “Our boat, Your Grace—”

  “The one we came here on or the one you’ve hired?” Theal snapped.

  “The one we came here on is gone, your Grace—”

  “What?”

  “Every ship is gone, Your Grace. Town’s up and left on anything that could float.”

  Theal’s face cavorted between apoplexy and murder. “Did anyone mention why?”

  “Elves, Your Grace. Comin’ to sack the town.”

  “And you didn’t hold one for us?”

  The two King’s Heroes stared at one another. “You’ve said to always get yer permission, yer Grace, before making important decisions.”

  Theal drew his rapiers, stared mercilessly at the men, and chose anger.

  VI

  “I’m going to miss Pell,” Grumm said to no one in particular for the fifth time. “He was pretty handy to have around.”

  Balinor nodded. “There is an advantage to a smaller group, Grumm. And he’ll keep those members of the Blackthorn safe until they’re needed.”

  “Meh,” Grumm replied. “We’ve got a good fight waiting. I can feel it. And his blades will be missed.”

  Kirsten tapped the pommel of her sword then reached across from her saddle to swat Grumm’s shield under its linen cover. “Somehow I think we’ll be fine.” She flashed a grin at Besra.

  “Got meh hammer,” Besra added. “Longer reach. One crunch wi’ this an’ nighty-night.”

  “But to miss out on a good scrap just to nursemaid some monks an’ study some rocks—”

  “Ancient ruins,” Olaf interjected.

  “Meh,” Grumm replied.

  Besra rode closer to Grumm. “Don’t be doubtin’ the value of our history,” she said. “I happen to have a ravin’ curiosity about the origins o’ this city we’re approaching. Could be lost secrets waiting to be rediscovered.”

  “You’re gonna crawl around them dark spaces wi’ rocks ready to collapse all ‘round yeh?”

  Besra tried to scowl at Grumm but her face settled on relentless determination. “Yes,’ she stated. “I am.”

  Grumm blushed. “All right,” he finally responded. “I jus’ don’ want ye—any o’ yeh te get hurt. That’s all.”

  Balinor held up his hand and everyone came to a halt. “Just a bit farther to the edge of the forest. I’ll ride ahead to check the gate. Wait here quietly.”

  Everyone watched as Balinor pulled on his well-worn tabard of the King’s Couriers and then rode forward, Vargas trailing happily.

  Lornen’s flag fluttered atop the King’s Gate but he could see no watch on the battlements. Some chanting could be heard echoing from the other side but it was distant, hollow, and tired. When he tested the gate, he was surprised to feel it move. Carefully, he pushed the gate wide enough to take a close look into a dark stone hall decorated with the pennants of regiments, and ominous murder holes. The far gate was wide open and no guards stood watch. Beyond, the light beamed from the immense expanse of the court quarter with its administrative buildings and cathedral. The chanting was louder now but still indistinct.

  Where had the guards gone? They were already home. Balinor dismounted and traversed the dark hall under the gatehouse to obtain a full view. The cobblestone courtyard was empty except where crowds had assembled around the Amaranth’s Cathedral. Balinor tried to determine the number but his efforts fell away in awe. There were thousands of them! And they were fixated on a sermon that was just beginning.

  They couldn’t have asked for a more opportune time, and the King’s Courier Stables were close by. Balinor wrinkled his nose. There was an easy sewer entrance there, but the others wouldn’t like it.

  ***

  Plax felt a surge of relief when Graniteside’s harbour appeared on the horizon. His body was burning with exhaustion and each time he tried to set down on the boat’s topmast, the grizzled gnome would grin and raise his rifle.

  Didn’t he know that shooting an albatross was bad luck?

  Plax decided that a rest would be essential before he could attempt any rescue of
Dria. On an impulse, he soared away towards land to find a safe grotto in which to sleep. He was doubly relieved when his departure did not trigger a skill testing potshot from the dwindling deck below.

  ***

  Siandros took a deep breath as graniteside came into view. “Ballok had told me how big it was but I thought he was exaggerating,” the Third Warden exclaimed. “There’s a high tower and a massive stone building beside it. You should know which one we need to go to.”

  Tyrin couldn’t respond in his gryphon form but his sharp eyes could tell him much before he ever decended into crossbow range. There was a massive crowd of people attempting to enter a large building one tier below. A huge walled area full of colourful flags and tapestries seemed mostly unoccupied. The docks were full of damaged and partially burnt buildings. Under the calm surface of the harbour, Tyrin was surpsied to see the shimmering broken silhouettes of several ships. But what surprised him the most was that no one occupied the walls. No one was even sounding the alarm. Yet.