Neutral Parties

by Christopher J Taylor

  “The decision was not mine,” said Delsaryn as he ceased his attack. “Stand and take a wound if it is required in order to keep your weapon. You will die in your first engagement, but it will happen faster if you lose your weapon. We are done for the day.”

  Taelyn yanked his sword from the ground and watched Delsaryn begin to break camp. He had side stepped the question almost as deftly as he avoided Taelyn’s blade.

  At the end of their tenth day traveling through the forest, Delsaryn said, “By mid day tomorrow, we will reach the edge of the forest nearest the pass you seek. I will go no farther and you will not return.”

  “You are welcome to join us,” said Cazmeran, who had been quiet for much of the journey.

  “What possible reason would I have for doing that?” the elf replied.

  “Companionship? The ability to strike back at the empire?” the old man offered.

  “You have nothing I want, human, other than a vow to tell no one of the elves and to see you leave,” Delsaryn replied.

  “Well,” replied Cazmeran, “we will offer both.”

  The next day, the forest floor slowly became an uphill climb. As promised, they reached the edge of the trees just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky. Above them, Taelyn could see a gap in the mountain peaks past the last branches. Delsaryn stopped at the line of underbrush that divided the forest from the open hillside.

  “You must leave and not return,” he said. “You cannot tell anyone that elves live within this forest. Fear of spirits haunting this place has provided more protection from you humans than sword or bow.”

  Taelyn immediately looked the elf in the eye and said, “I promise you, Delsaryn, we will not betray your aid and trust.”

  Kovol followed then. “I too vow to keep your secret and remain away from your lands.”

  “This trip has hardly been worthy of a bard’s tale,” said Cazmeran, “and we have no plan to aid the empire in any way. You have my word as well.”

  “Then I have completed the task I was given,” said Delsaryn. “If we meet again, it will most likely be as enemies.”

  Kovol and Cazmeran began to push through the underbrush, but Taelyn paused.

  “Delsaryn,” he said, “I am sorry that my people have hurt yours. I can’t change that, but I’m going to try to stop it from happening again. You have my word on that, too.”

  Surprise was obvious on the elf’s face. “If you go to oppose your own empire, you will die.”

  “Yes,” said Taelyn with a sigh. “I think I agree with you, but it’s apparently what has to be done.”

  Then Taelyn turned to follow Kovol and Cazmeran.

  ***

  Delsaryn had not been surprised by the vows offered by the humans and orc. Their kind were known for empty words and promises. The surprise had been the boy’s sincerity. While sparring with Taelyn, Delsaryn had felt no guilt in the minor injuries he had dealt the boy. Each spot of blood stood for a wood that the empire had destroyed or a band of elves slaughtered. Such a sincere apology had caught him off guard. There was something in the boy that almost made Delsaryn believe he would indeed accomplish what he said. Almost. He shook his head. The claim was too fanciful, too grand. What chance did an orc, an old man, and a novice have against the human’s empire when troops of seasoned elven warriors had not been able to turn the tide of war?

  After a few moments, Delsaryn moved a little bit deeper into the woods to find a tree where he could ensure his recent companions kept their word. In a moment, he had scaled a redwood and found a perch where he could watch for a time. He was not surprised when a kinsman appeared above him in the tree. It was the job of the scouts, after all, to catch those who trespassed in elven lands.

  “Brother,” said the newcomer as Delsaryn watched the trio climb the hill toward the pass. “I wonder why you have escorted these intruders out of our lands instead of killing them, as is our duty.”

  “I know our duty,” replied Delsaryn. “I was visited by a vision of Ilyathen who required that I set aside duty.”

  “A vision from a god?” scoffed the scout. “Do you think you will avoid punishment by claiming piety?”

  “No, brother,” Delsaryn said, with no small relief that his kinsman understood him. He had not been certain the sorcerer had been telling the truth about being able to speak elven. “The task Ilyathen requires is nearly complete. Once they have reached the pass, I will hunt them as duty requires.”

  “You would risk leaving the forest?” demanded the scout. “This is also forbidden.”

  “I know,” replied Delsaryn. “But I see no other way to meet the demands of duty and the requirements of our god.”

  “I think you must come with me,” the scout said with a heavy sigh, “and answer for these crimes. The elders will decide if you are permitted to do as you suggest.”

  Delsaryn turned to the scout. “Delay may cause me to lose them.”

  “Then we must hurry, brother.”

  ***

  The hike up toward the pass seemed to lift everyone’s spirits. The sun burned brightly in a sky dotted with clouds. Taelyn felt warm for the first time in days. If Cazmeran or Kovol were disappointed that Delsaryn had chosen not to join them, neither showed it. Taelyn wasn’t surprised the elf had stayed behind. In the eleven days they had spent walking through the forest, Delsaryn had never been happy. He had also never explained his decision to help when he clearly hated doing so.

  The pass they approached had been walled at some point long ago. The loose stones stretched from one side of the pass to the other and reached just over Taelyn’s head. Here and there a jagged gap gave the top of the wall a chipped look, though none of those gaps were very large. Near the middle of the pass there was a large hole. Kovol knelt to look as some of the tumbled rocks.

  “The wall was not breached recently,” he said. “However, someone led a horse through in the past day or so.”

  “How do you know?” Taelyn asked.

  The orc handed a scuffed stone to Taelyn and said, “Those marks were made by a steel shod hoof and there is fresh dung just past the wall. Human war horses are the only ones I know to be shod with steel instead of iron. The pass has too many stones for a horse to be safely ridden and your knights are usually skilled riders who would know better than to try.”

  “Do you think it could have been a survivor of the avalanche?” asked Cazmeran as he took the stone from Taelyn.

  Kovol shrugged and said, “We did not make good time through the forest but any survivor would have pushed themselves to the edge of death to get here before us. It is unlikely.”

  Taelyn looked back along the mountains where he thought they had come. The forest was as uninviting here as it had been where they entered. The mountainsides that stretched away from the pass were empty.

  “Do you think some of them might still be following?” he asked.

  Cazmeran clapped him on the shoulder as he headed to the gap in the wall. “Don’t worry boy, no one is left to chase us down.”

  Taelyn winced as the old man hit a healing wound. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Yes,” continued the sorcerer cheerfully. “We’re likely to be chased by completely different people who want to kill or capture us now.”

  Kovol offered Cazmeran a sideways look and said, “Old man, you have an odd sense of humor.”

  With a sigh, Taelyn followed through the hole and back into the empire. “I don’t think he was joking.”

  The woods on the other side of the pass were far less dense than the forest of the elves. There was plenty of space between trees to let in sunlight. This encouraged a variety of bushes to grow, especially bramble bushes. Kovol led for a time, following traces of the horseman they believed had come before them.

  “Is it wise to follow this knight?” Kovol asked.

  “Well, as much as I like raspberries,” Cazmeran said as he plucked a few of the green berries from a nearby bush, “these are not yet ready and we are nea
rly out of food. The track likely leads to a town or village where we can buy supplies.”

  “So long as the local guard does not immediately arrest us,” said Kovol.

  “See, you’re learning,” said Taelyn.

  Cazmeran scowled briefly at Taelyn before tossing aside the berries. “Do you have a better plan? Anything turning around in your gut that might offer some insight?”

  Taelyn felt nothing but a rumble of hunger that supported Cazmeran’s concern about their food supplies. “Cazmeran, do we have money?”

  “Boy,” he replied, “it took me almost a month to find you. I wasn’t just strolling along, minding my own business.”

  “You stole some,” accused Kovol.

  Cazmeran offered the orc a grin as he replied, “If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you the former owners aren’t going hungry, nor were they particularly honorable people.”

  Kovol scowled. “They answer for their acts as you are responsible for your own.”

  “A good thing I make no claim to honor then,” replied the old man.

  “Money will help,” Taelyn interrupted, hoping to distract from further argument. “but won’t Kovol be, uh, out of place?”

  Cazmeran began to stroke his beard and said, “You’re right. He’ll stick out like a monkey at a monastery.”

  Taelyn glanced at Kovol who shook his head with a shrug. At least he wasn’t alone in his confusion.

  Cazmeran noticed the exchange and with a touch of irritation said, “Or some other thing that obviously doesn’t belong. I’ll need to go in alone and get what we need. Hopefully, I can find a cloak for Kovol while I’m there.”

  “Cazmeran,” said Kovol. “You are almost as strange in appearance as I am.”

  Even with the new pants, the sorcerer was dressed strangely. Riding an avalanche down a mountain had not improved the quality or fit of his robes. They were still too small and now cuts and tears pockmarked the cloth. Taelyn’s own clothing looked similarly tattered and worn, but the leather armor hid the worst and at least it fit fairly well.

  “I think I need to be the one to go into town,” he said.

  “What? No. Too dangerous,” Cazmeran said.

  “He is right,” added Kovol.

  Cazmeran gestured at the orc as he said, “There, see?”

  “The boy must be the one.”

  “What? Why?” demanded Cazmeran.

  “Because you are nothing but a strange old man,” replied Kovol. “Taelyn can pass as a newcomer seeking supplies, a son of a distant settlement, or any other story we create. He is average enough to be forgotten.”

  “Wait a minute--” started Taelyn.

  “Hmph, you’re right,” said the old man. “No one will think twice and that’s what we want.”

  “Exactly,” the orc agreed.

  By the end of the day, Cazmeran, Kovol and Taelyn caught sight of a town. It had been partly dug into a valley between two large hills. Most of the town faced inward on either side of a wide lane that followed the natural curve of the valley. A handful of taverns and shops lined the main road, with wooden or brick and mortar houses behind them. A traveling show had come through Byrkhill when Taelyn had been a boy. The player had set up a stand of seating raised so those in back had as good a view as those in front. The town looked like two of those stands facing each other. There was no protective wall around the town, but a narrow band of fields and animal pens ensured no one could approach without being seen.

  “That’s going to be a mining town,” said Cazmeran.

  “How do you know?” Taelyn asked.

  “We haven’t seen any farms, so they likely only have enough to take care of their own needs. They must have had the wealth to build all that from somewhere. With the mountains close, it’s probably mining,” replied Cazmeran.

  “So you are guessing,” said Kovol.

  “Yes, but it is a reasonable guess.”

  “What role for the boy then?”

  “Hapless errand boy?”

  “Hapless!”

  “Yes, that works well,” Cazmeran said with a smile.

  Soon, Taelyn was walking toward the town, a small purse of silver tied to his belt. Kovol had suggested that the sword and armor wouldn’t be normal for a miner, so he’d left them behind. After so many days wearing the protective leather, it seemed strange to be without. There were only a few townsfolk in the small fields and pens that Taelyn passed. Unlike the round dirt and sod houses Taelyn was used to, these were all rectangular and every one had a foundation of stone with wood or brick construction on top. A few people watched him pass, but no one greeted him so Taelyn kept walking. Even in Byrkhill, the villagers were a little less friendly than the surrounding farmers.

  A few dozen paces took Taelyn past fields small enough that they were little more than gardens and small animal pens holding mostly pigs and chickens. The scent of animal dung was both comforting and strange. Taelyn decided it was the difference between pigs and sheep. He could hear a cow somewhere, but it must have been behind a house or in a barn. Gardens and pens gave way to larger buildings built close together. Narrow lanes ran between the buildings and up the hills to either side. Taelyn guessed there were about twenty buildings on each side of the road. Most seemed to be large homes, but near the middle of the town were shops. There seemed to be three taverns and inns, two smithies, a stable and half a dozen shops. Signs hanging over the road advertised clothing, mining supplies, and a small cask impaled on an iron rod was either a general store or a cooper’s workshop. There were plenty of people walking in the road. Most carried packages or goods, but a few seemed just to be walking. There were also horses tied to iron rings outside of the shops and taverns.

  Cazmeran had carefully coached Taelyn to say very little and do even less. He had, however, insisted that Taelyn stop for a drink at one of the taverns. It would be out of place for a traveler to avoid a warm meal. Of the three, one had no sign at all. Only the boisterous noise of customers inside hinted at the business within. The second one had a sign painted with a lion. Kovol had seen that sign from afar and suggested he avoid it. The lion, he’d said, was the symbol of the empire. Taelyn pretended to be interested in the fruit stand opposite this second tavern. A man was loading goods into a wagon outside the tavern and tethered to the wagon was a large, lean, black horse that looked much fiercer than the pair hitched to the wagon. Taelyn wanted to avoid meeting the knight who owned that horse.

  The third tavern had a wooden dagger hanging from a chain over the door. When the door opened, it swung outward and tapped the tip of the dagger and sent it swinging. A minor commotion from behind caught Taelyn’s attention. He glanced back quickly enough to see a person in a blue tabard step out of the lion inn. Without waiting another moment, he fled the road.

  The inside of the tavern was much cleaner than Taelyn had expected. Cazmeran had led him to think the floor would be covered in blood and vomit-soaked sawdust, mixed with bits of broken pottery and teeth. The floor was actually well-swept stone. In the middle of the public room was a long table that likely sat over twenty. Six smaller tables were pushed up against three of the walls while a fourth was dominated by a large fireplace. The fire was burning very low at the moment, but there was little doubt it would make every corner of the room comfortable during the winter. A wide, empty doorway led deeper into the building where Taelyn could hear the unmistakable racket of a busy kitchen. The tavern in Byrkhill had been half the size, but the noise was the same.

  The sound of the door clattering against the sign outside brought a man to his feet from the central table, where he had been sitting with a group of customers. He wiped his hands on an apron he wore loosely around his waist and he walked closer.

  “Welcome to the Dangling Dagger, sir,” he said. “We’ve got a bit of roast pork left and plenty of ale. A plate and mug for a silver.”

  “Um, that sounds good. I’ll have a bit of both,” replied Taelyn, digging out one of the small silver coins.


  “Very good, sir. Sit where you like and I’ll have it to you quick.”

  The tavern keeper rushed off to the kitchen while Taelyn took a seat at an empty table. The room wasn’t brightly lit, but the tallow candles on each table gave off enough light to see by. Besides the group in the middle of the room, only one other table was occupied by a pair of men. The other customers gave Taelyn a brief look before returning to their own conversations. Cazmeran had suggested he eavesdrop. While it seemed rude, it also sounded like wise advice.

  The two men at their own table spoke too quietly to hear, but the group in the middle was loud enough Taelyn couldn’t help but overhear. Just as he sat down, one of the men complained about too many strangers in town. One of his companions elbowed him and told him not to be rude. Then talk turned to the weather and which miners had been lucky lately.

  True to his word, the tavern keeper was quickly back with a plate of meat and potatoes and a mug of ale.

  “Here you are, sir,” he said. “Don’t pay much mind to old Harlow there. More bark than bite. We don’t mind new people here. Not like at Verkan’s down the road.”

  “Is that the one with the lion?” Taelyn asked.

  “Oh no,” said the tavern keeper, seemingly eager to gossip. “The Lion is a boarding house. If you need a bed for the night, they’re the only ones for rent. Verkan doesn’t put out a sign, expects everyone to know where he is. Prefers the locals and charges strangers extra, too, but you didn’t hear that here.”

  “Are there a lot of strangers here?” Taelyn began eating as the other man took over the conversation. The meat was a bit tough and the potatoes a bit green, but it was hot and tasted better than anything Taelyn had eaten in days. The ale didn’t seem too watered down and had nothing floating in it, proving another of Cazmeran’s warnings to be false.

  “Not too many,” admitted the keeper with a shrug. “Usually it’s miners come in for supplies or to sell some ore. We get our share of merchant caravans, too. End of the line, Arnhold is. The merchants want to get rid of what they brought so they have more room in their carts for iron. Most of them trade fair. Harlow’s grumbling due to losing a pig to his brother Gant. Harlow and Gant both said it was theirs and instead of deciding himself, the Magistrate let one of them Guardians pick who got it. Then the hurt one stumbled in and cause a stir.”