by Troy Reaves
The remaining two days to Bersim went without incident and they made the stable yards just before the cold night fell over the city. The first thing that Boremac noted was the massive amount of area given over for the care of the merchant caravans entering the city. There was a wide variety of different horses ranging in size and overall appearance, even some beasts that Boremac had never seen. Odd tan colored creatures with a large hump taking up most of their backs with a thick hardened leather saddle that was still attached. The empty wagons near these creatures looked like a wild festival of colored cloth had thrown up on them, with wares, or maybe decorations, scattered all over the tent-like cover and sides. There were also beasts similar to the oxen some caravans used on the local roads that were twice the size of the horses near them. Massive horns jutted out and curved back on their great heads with no hint of reason. The wagons near these bore covers of animal hides, bearing coloration and patterns Boremac did not recognize. The sides of these wagons were decorated with animal skulls ranging in size from large to grotesquely huge. The last creatures he noted were the most magnificent, if only in their size alone. Bulky gray skinned animals that had hides like the hardened leather of an old rogue, wrinkled and weathered. They had legs the size of tree trunks in old forests and long ladders hung at their sides, tied up next to the traveling carriages that were roughly the size of Boremac’s room at back at the inn. Great dusky white horns curved gracefully on either side of their mouths which was itself an elongated snout roughly as long as he was tall. Large broad ears flapped gently at the sides of the beasts’ heads as they slept standing. Their burdens were either the large carriage boxes or wooden boxes strapped to their backs and carrying what appeared to be a simple crane mechanism the owners must have used to raise and lower their goods. The creatures and the tall wooden boxes they carried were easily taller than many of the smaller keeps throughout the lands. These were much too large to stay in the stables and were kept in a fenced field nearby to make caring for them easier. Small carts drawn by mules were lined at the fence gates to transport these merchants’ goods into the city.
“They are something to behold, aren’t they?” Boremac started when he heard the voice of the leader of the Riders of Gold speak. “I understand they arm those things when they go to war. Can you imagine seeing hundred or more of them coming at you bristling with ballistae and carrying catapults on their backs? I, for one, would be turning my horse away and riding as fast as I could.” He laughed as he finished but to Boremac it sounded forced. The man motioned for Boremac to follow him into the stables. “These ugly things are camels. It is hard to know which end of them is worse to approach. They will spit at you from the front if they don’t just take a notion to bite you and they seem to have some ability to restrain the need to crap until someone is behind them. One time of that at either end will make a believer out of you. Nasty creatures. Now these others that favor our own oxen just had the bad luck to be born ugly. They are as passive as you could want and I hear tell that they serve their masters as if they took some pleasure from it. No whip is needed to coax them. They plod along with only a few simple commands for guidance. Must be at least as smart as our dogs and probably twice as loyal, come to think of it. A dog might bite his master if he takes a serious mind to it when treated wrong. No chance of that with these creatures. I heard stories of them being beat to death and not making a motion to move off. Good thing it is a hanging offense where they come from to mistreat them. People do some damned strange things.” The man paused as if deep in thought a moment. He smiled at Boremac, turning him away from the stables and pointing him toward the town gates. “Beauty and liquor await us, initiate, and as you said, I am buying!”
The celebration was well under way within the Moonlight Rose as Boremac sat at the bar. The busty madam of the house made rounds through the great main hall where the bar was located, alternately kissing and patting some of the men there and slapping others into a more gentlemanly disposition. She reminded him of Mama Bear back in Travelflor enough to darken his mood a bit with his sorrow. His state was ridiculous under the current conditions, at least that is what he kept telling himself, but even making the rounds at the card tables had given him no joy despite the gold he had taken in the games. “Lucky at cards, not so at love.” He thought to himself and took another sip. He felt a warm hand lightly grasp the back of his neck and assumed the lady of the house had finally come to check on him. He assumed correctly that she did not care for crestfallen faces in her establishment. He allowed the hand to massage some of his tension away for a few moments before he turned to grace his benefactor with thanks and a smile. He had intended to dismiss the lady of the house, as he was in no mood for company yet, but he was surprised to see the person who was at his back.
The lady of the evening that stood at his back could have been Jasmine’s sister, maybe even her twin in certain light. Long dark wavy locks framed a pale face where emerald eyes practically glowed with promised mischief. When one side of her mouth tipped up in a welcoming grin, Boremac nearly gasped with delight, for a moment thinking it had to be her. When she spoke, he was sure it was. “You look like a man in need of some sunshine, or at least some warmth. May I drive the chill from you?” Her choice of words brought him back to reality and he could not hide his dismay. She was a trained woman and was more than able to help. “Ah, so that is the problem. She must be something to have you tied all up like that. I remind you of her then? I am thinking I must, for it is all over your face, especially in those beautiful eyes of yours. Hate to see sorrow there and my Lady will not have it if there is a cure I can find.”
Boremac graced her with a genuine smile, “Well, I cannot be the one to cause you trouble with your Lady. Truth be told, I can think of no better company than you and think that Alchendia has favored me this evening.”
Her reply surprised him almost as much as her appearance. “Ah, yes, I thought you might be one of hers. Which guild do you call home, gentleman thief? I bet they are missing you while you are traveling.”
“You are a keen observer, dear lady. The guild has forsaken me but I keep my faith. I use my… gifts to make my coin as a bounty hunter now. I have an excellent sponsor and choose the contracts I take.” Boremac stated with a bit of pride creeping into his voice toward the end.
“You become more a mystery with each fact revealed. I like that. Men are so often so easily read, not unlike a posted declaration. You, I think, are more like a good book, or at least a good short read. Something one can envelope themselves within and forget the trappings of reality.” She smiled openly at him, for the moment intrigued.
“Ah, worn pages well-turned with some amount of thumbing back and forth to make sure that you did not miss something important. If that is what you mean then I will agree there is a bit to be learned within, or at least be entertained by for a moment.” Boremac was enjoying the tete-a-tete with the lady who had yet to reveal her name, or for that matter inquire about his own.
She pressed her full lips lightly to his cheek, pausing to whisper in his ear. “Oh, you are modest too. Such a rare and wondrous prize I have found. Whatever shall I do with you?” She drew her face back away from his own and turned toward the bartender tapping the bar lightly three times with her knuckles. “My guess is that this guest would prefer a solid dark liquor. Send a bottle of the special stock to my room and be hasty. Nothing too dark though as we do not want him impaired. Let us have some apples, pears and a bit of that warm climate fruit that you received last week. Slice it well with some brie and other light cheeses. Pick whichever you feel are most complimentary. I will leave that up to you. Oh, and that dark sweet, you know the one and the darker the better, in a warmed dipping pot with something to keep it heated. Have I forgotten anything?”
A wry grin crept over the barmaid’s face before she answered. “Only that you have not invited me.”
“We will have none of that, silly wench. This one is all mine. If he manages to make it until
morning, I might share him tomorrow. You never can tell with the charming ones,” She replied.
Boremac was moved by the server’s thrust out pouty lip, among other things, and felt he should intervene on the behalf of the wheat haired server who had eyes that neatly countered Jasmine’s twin’s own. Hers were a shimmering hazel that took in the flickering flames everywhere in the place. “She speaks fairly. I am tired from the road and would be of little use to anyone this evening, let alone two.”
The buxom serving lady tipped over toward Boremac in an effort to tempt him one last time before he retreated with the first courtesan. Her height as she leaned to his ear gave him a sporting view and he was almost inspired to take up her challenge before she released him from the need. “Pity that. You are easy on the eyes and well spoken, a rare treasure here. Go on, you two, before I snatch this one away and take him myself.”
Boremac’s companion needed no more urging and whisked him away from the bar. Gardene, who had been at the Moonlight Rose for a good deal less time than her friend, Moniquette, wished him well as she winked knowingly at her compatriot.
Boremac awoke the next morning blanketed in a warm haze that was both peaceful and exhilarating at once. Warm light poured in through the window and the wash of dark hair that lay over his chest made him start just a little. For a moment, he forgot where he was and assumed he remained in bed dreaming that he had finally broken through Jasmine’s defenses. The thought pleased him until the lady that had bedded him slid her head around to smile at him. He remembered her now, as well as the events of the night before, and took the required effort to not display his minor disappointment. Unfortunately he could not completely fool a woman who made her living at reading men’s thoughts.
“Pity I could not run that lady off until morning, Boremac. I would have enjoyed your attentions until later in the day, if you would have allowed me. Whoever she is, I pity her. She does not know what she is missing. Can I get you some breakfast? I do not know about you but I am famished.” Moniquette sat up at the edge of the bed by his side, kissing his forehead gently, and drawing a blanket around her to dismiss the cool morning. She tilted smoothly forward as if to protect him from the chill as well, aligning her eyes with his own. “Yes, I do wish I could dismiss that one but it is the fruit that is not tasted that so often undoes the sweetness that is.” She touched her lips to his own only briefly, as if teasing him might change his mind, and the focus of his thoughts.
She deserved better treatment, he felt, whether she was a professional or not. “Moniquette, I say honestly that nothing would give me greater pleasure than to break the night’s fasting with you.” A sly grin broke in before he could continue, one that was mirrored a grin of her own. “Well, there are a few things much of me can think of that might please me more but we should eat first, I think. You have a beautiful mind and body that are rarely found among ladies. I would not care to dishonor either with my actions.” This last brought a laugh from her, a throaty tone that made the blood course rapidly though his body.
“It is no wonder she favors you if you pray as you speak. Alchendia must enjoy being favored by such a tongue.” She rose from the bed, sauntering toward the door in a way that Boremac could only call delightful. “I will return as soon as I can so you can tell me more about me. You really are something, Boremac.”
Boremac spent a couple more days drunk in pleasure, allowing himself a measure of peace he had not known for quite a while, before deciding it was time he went to speak with his contractor here. The Lord was aware of his coming and seemed pleased to make his acquaintance when Boremac arrived at the House of Law in the center of town. Moniquette had explained that the House of Law numbered among the largest keeps in all the land and was singular in its combination of size and position. The massive stone structure was perched atop a high plateau at the center of the city, very nearly covering all of it, and appeared to be studying the everyday goings on of the entire city. This assumption was reinforced by the large numbers of standing militia that patrolled the walls and maintained the towers found at every corner. Boremac had little doubt that the keep could readily repel any siege for quite some time if the outer defenses of the city itself failed. He was moved to comment to that effect when he was brought before the Governor of the city.
“Ah, perceptive!” Lord Gional remarked jovially. “I hope you noted the barracks throughout the city and the numerous stables for my horses positioned at various key points as well. My knights are renowned for their skills at combat, hard earned with their daily training exercises. I doubt a ballista will ever have to fire from this keep. That is why I want my horse back, hunter. That is why I want an example made of the fools that stole him from me.” When the man finished speaking, Boremac noted all humor had gone from his eyes and tone. The last words he spoke sounded like someone dragging a blade against a poorly oiled sharpening stone, almost making Boremac flinch.
“What exactly did you have in mind, Lord?” Boremac’s guarded reply brought a less than reassuring smile to the Governor’s face.
“Simple really,” he began, “I want you to exterminate the thieves and bring me their heads so that others will understand how we deal with those who violate the laws of this House. I want my horse returned to me without being harmed if at all possible. He was once the mightiest of my warhorses and still breeds fine foals. There is much life and fire in the old man to be passed on.”
“Should be readily accomplished.” Boremac stated with an arrogance he did not feel. “Do you require me to bring anyone along to safeguard the horse?”
“I do not feel that will be necessary. My stable master will instruct you on the best manner in which to approach Gray Mane and it is my understanding you do not fear a horse with fire in its belly. This is good because Gray Mane has always been able to smell fear and he does not tolerate riders who are not capable. He would sooner throw you and trample you than bear the weight of a fool.”
“I will return with the steed as soon as I can. I will leave first light tomorrow. Good day to you, Lord, and do have my payment waiting when I return.”
“Be certain you get your rest tonight, Hunter. Perhaps time away from the Rose would serve you.” Boremac noted the slight grin on the Governor’s face did not reach his voice as he spoke. He could not help but wonder if it was a lady or a patron that was concerned enough to report the comings and goings of a mercenary to Lord Gional.
29
Flying Horses
He had spent that night in an inn off the merchant’s circle much like those common in many of the cities in the land. He reasoned it was so that he could get any necessary supplies but parts of him argued against the logic of that and assured him that one well bedded is one well rested. Despite his usual leanings to weighing the merits of all options, he discarded the option on the side of caution. Boremac rose early and ate simply with the common folk, as much to gain some insight into the people as see what information he could glean, and was dismayed to learn that there was little freedom to be had among them. The bulk of the male population was conscripted to serve in the militia unless they were too young or too old to prove useful. Those that could not fight cared for those that could, either as farmers or servants of the merchants who cared for the myriad needs of the ever growing army. Boremac wondered why the Lord was so concerned. Despite the city’s proximity to the edge of the lands, there had been no hint of foreign invaders for more than a century. The largest threat to the land in the past had been their own King so long ago. That thought gave Boremac a moment’s pause, but only a moment. Men of his skills were always in demand whether there was to be war or not, so it was of little concern to him. He knew how to ride out the troubles wars brought and he was certain if it became an issue, he would have little trouble siding with a winner. Survivors had a knack for tasting change on the wind, even when the wind changed direction frequently.
Boremac set out with a minimal pack and no mount, believing that his best option would be
to track his prey on foot. His reasoning was that it should be simple to find the tracks of an unwilling mount and any number of bandits trying to keep the beast under control. He found out quickly enough how wrong he was. There was a path easily found and followed right outside Gray Mane’s stable yard that had been made by several people, one of which whose step appeared to be female judging by the light touch of those particular prints, and the unmistakable marks of hooves. The markings were still plain after more than a half dozen days due to the favor of the near constant sun recently, but this only troubled Boremac more when he reached the tree line of the surrounding forest that encircled the city a mile out from it. The tracks disappeared some distance from the trees and there was no hint of passage into the wood from that point forward.
No tree limb was broken nor were there any marks on the roots and stones that seemed to be everywhere underfoot. Boremac could only assume that the beast had taken flight and carried off its captors at the point he lost their trail. He laughed to himself, trying to remember if there was a way to put wings on a horse and only laughing harder when he found he could not. George’s library held a great many fantastic secrets but if that one was in there, Boremac had never uncovered it. “Winged horses! That would be something you would not want flying overhead!” When he gave voice to that thought, he was overcome by his own mirth and fell on his back, no longer able to keep his feet. The roots extending from the edge of the wood had betrayed him as he stumbled about drunkenly, shaking his head and unable to dismiss the image of an unfortunate traveler caught beneath a flying steed. He took a moment to collect himself as he lay on his back and noticed something. There was a leaf that had wrapped itself around a branch in a very peculiar way. “Ah, now I have you.” Boremac thought as he rose to examine the branch more closely. “Good, a cunning foe. I like you already.” He slid the leaf down the branch and it unraveled in his hand to reveal the break that had nearly severed the branch. “Challenge accepted.” Boremac stated as he grinned like a wolf hunting, not out of hunger or need, but purely for the pleasure of it.