“I’m no boy, Trader Durgen,” Fil answered, a bit defensively.
“Bah! You’re a boy in human terms, but to a dwarf yer not but a baby fresh from yer mother’s womb,” he said, finally stuffing enough pillows behind him to form a comfortable seat.
“How old are you, Fil?” Dandronis asked.
“Nineteen…almost twenty,” he added quickly.
“And Jonas is the same age?” Dandronis asked.
“Yes.”
“So young to have so much power,” Dandronis continued, just as Ravenna returned with the drinks. Just behind her was a male servant carrying a plate of succulent meats and a variety of soft cheeses. The young man set the plate on the table and quickly departed.
“Here you are, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, her dark eyes looking each of them over before resting on Fil.
Durgen didn’t respond as he was already gulping down the thick dwarven mead.
“We are fine, thank you, Ravenna,” Dandronis replied.
“And you, young warrior?” Ravenna said seductively, her eyes lingering on Fil again.
“Uh…I…am good,” Fill stammered.
“Very well,” she said with a mischievous smile before turning and joining the mass of people in the main hall.
“Boy, I be thinking you could move onto manhood with that raven haired lass,” Durgen said loudly, followed by a powerful belch.
“I think you might be right, but it would cost him,” Dandronis agreed, smiling as he took a long pull from his mug.
Fil didn’t know what to say, so he too took a long draught from his mug. The honey mead was delicious; cold and refreshing with just a hint of sweetness.
“Back to de cavalier, tell me what you know of him,” the dwarf asked again.
“We grew up together in a small town deep in the Tundrens. He was a cripple with limbs so twisted that he could barely walk. Four years ago a cavalier came to our town to warn us that boargs, led by a Banthra, were about to attack.”
“Why would boargs attack a small town? And a Banthra? Really? Did you see it?” Dandronis asked in astonishment.
“I don’t know why they attacked. But they killed everyone, except for Jonas and me. We were hidden. The cavalier and the Banthra killed each other. And yes, I saw the demon knight, and I saw another at Finarth when Lord Moredin attacked. And I hope to never see another again. Their very presence grows ice on your bones if you know what I mean. Jonas killed that one, along with three clerics of the Forsworn, although he had Taleen’s help.” Fil took another long drink of his mead.
“Methinks Shyann had a say in your survival. Keep goin’, boy,” Durgen muttered.
“Well, we hid out in the mountains, and that is when Shyann healed him and gave him a God Mark on his chest,” Fil continued, looking at his companions who were now clearly interested in his story. “From there we went to Finarth and trained as knights.”
“But Jonas is no knight, how did he become a cavalier?” Dandronis asked, stuffing some meat and cheese into his mouth.
“He was being hunted by the Forsworn. A demon attacked the barracks, killing nearly half of the apprentices. Something had to be done, so he was secretly removed from Finarth and sent to train with Kiln, the swordsman, far away in the mountains. I do not know the details of that story, but he stayed with Kiln for two years, and during that time his cavalier powers slowly surfaced.” Fil paused to eat some meat and cheese and wash it down with his mead.
“Kiln, eh,” Durgen grumbled.
“I have heard many stories of Kiln, but I did not know he was still alive. I would relish the chance to fight with him,” Dandronis said.
“You just may get yer chance, Dandronis,” the dwarf replied.
“He is incredible,” Fil said. “I saw him fight at the battle at the Lindsor Bridge. He defeated an ogre in a few heartbeats. I have never seen such fluid movements, except from Jonas and Allindrian.”
“I had heard he was an oath breaker, is that not true?” Kilius asked, tearing his eyes away from the scenes around him and rejoining the conversation.
“I have not heard the whole story, but Jonas has indicated that there is more to that tale than what we’ve heard,” Fil answered.
“There usually is,” added Dandronis.
They paused their conversation temporarily so they could resume stuffing their faces with the savory meats and cheeses.
“It’s strange that Shyann would pick such a young man to be her warrior,” Dandronis said, chewing thoughtfully.
“Maybe, but if you knew Jonas, you would not think so,” Fil said, a little defensively.
“Why that be?” Durgen asked.
“Jonas is an astounding person. When he was a cripple he was ridiculed by nearly the entire town, yet he persevered, bearing the abuse, and I never once saw him show any anger towards anyone. His has a kind heart, an incredible sense of honor, and is utterly incorruptible. You can trust him with your life. He would die protecting a complete stranger. He is a friend, a friend you would die for,” Fil said emotionally.
“It sounds like Shyann indeed picked well,” Dandronis said.
“She did,” Fil agreed.
“Enough serious talk. Let us eat, drink, and talk of women and glory,” Durgen bellowed loudly, pounding his empty mug on the table. “More ale!”
Dandronis, Fil, and Kilius smiled, following suit and emptying their cups with long deep swallows.
***
The room they had left was warm and decadent, but the room they now entered made the latter look like a dirty brothel. Spacious and open, the large circular room was furnished with two large softly cushioned couches placed in the middle, around which brightly flickering sconces cast an illuminating glow. The tall walls were covered with thick tapestries, and large pillars were placed around the perimeter. The tables flanking the couches overflowed with several bottles of wine, plates of exotic fruits, and a variety of meats and cheeses. It was splendid, warm and comfortable. Geardon Embley’s Oasis was obviously turning quite a profit.
They talked for over an hour, each telling their stories. Jonas listened absently as he thought about Taleen. He missed her dearly and this was the first time since her death that he really had the time to think about what she had meant to him. He had been running and fighting ever since she had been killed, and now, as he sat on the soft couch in peace and comfort, he was able to really think about her. They had only known each other for a short period of time, but Jonas had come to rely on her blade and her support, and he missed her council. She was a rock for him, helping and guiding him through the difficult and tumultuous events of the past year.
“Jonas…Jonas,” Addalis said, “Are you okay?”
Jonas’s attention snapped back to the present, and he quickly wiped a lone tear from his eye before it could fall from the weight of his sorrow. Everyone was looking at him with concern.
“Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking,” Jonas reassured them. “I’m sorry, Addalis, what were you saying?”
“I was saying that I have never met a cognivant. I would like to talk with you about that skill someday, when it seems more fitting.”
“I would like that, although I know very little about it myself. I am still learning about the power and its limitations.”
“From the story that Kromm just told, it sounds as if you have mastered it well. I have heard of creatures such as you faced in the Hallows, but I have never met anyone who faced them, let alone defeated them. It is an incredible story.”
“Addalis, my cousin, they have traveled long and fought hard. I bet they would like to rest. Come, I have rooms for you all,” Geardon said, clapping his hands loudly. Two black garbed warriors quickly materialized from another archway. “King Kromm and Queen Sorana, you will stay in my personal chambers. And there will be no discussion about it,” he said quickly as the queen was getting ready to decline. “A bath is already drawn and servants await your orders. Rabalis here will take you
to my chambers. Prince Riker, you can stay here on the couch,” he finished, seeing the boy’s uncertain look. “Unless, of course, you would like your own room.”
“No thank you, I want him near me,” Kromm said.
“Thank you, Geardon. You are most gracious,” the queen said.
Kromm hugged his boy one more time. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Then the king and queen followed Rabalis from the room to their chambers.
“Calvin, please take the Blade Singer to her room,” Geardon ordered. “Unfortunately I am short on rooms and you will be staying with your other female companion. But the room is spacious with two large and comfortable beds.”
“It will be perfect. Believe me, Mr. Embley, it will be a huge upgrade compared to what we’ve been sleeping on. Thank you,” Allindrian said.
“You’re welcome. Calvin, put Jonas in room six next door,” Geardon continued. “Ravenna has already placed all your other companions in rooms. They are probably enjoying a warm bath as we speak. Now, is there anything else you need before you take your rest?”
“We are very content, sir,” replied Allindrian. “You have been most gracious.”
“If you will please follow me, I will take you to your rooms,” Calvin said with a slight bow.
Geardon was true to his word. Fil and Kilius were already in a room as were Durgen and Dandronis. He put Myrell and Allindrian in their room and Jonas was given his own suite that was generally reserved for the high stakes gamblers. It was not terribly big, but it was very comfortable, furnished with high quality furniture and a big soft bed. Sitting in the corner was a copper basin filled with steaming hot water infused with the tantalizing fragrance of exotic oils. The welcome sight of the bath made him aware of how sweaty and dirty he was, despite the immaculate condition of his armor.
Jonas poured himself a glass of cold water from a pitcher and took off all his armor and clothes. There was a tall mirror on the wall and he took a close look at himself as he stood before it. His God Mark had continued to grow and there was now no spot on his torso that was not covered with the symbol. Branches from the oak tree had expanded over his strong shoulders and stretched down his muscled arms. He wondered how much more it would expand. His hair was longer now, no longer stubble but a short growth of wavy dirty blonde hair fell just above his eyes. He looked at the scar on his forehead and was genuinely amazed at the mark. The lines were perfect and the scar was smooth, not bumpy and rough like you might expect from a burn. He remembered that day vividly. He had almost died from the wounds he received from the demon that had once been Prince Nelstrom, and he probably would have if Taleen had not healed him immediately. Again he thought of the fallen cavalier and his heart felt heavy with grief. He tried to think of Fil’s words, attempting to come to grips with her death and focus on what Fil had said, that every action she had taken her entire life furthered the cause of good, and that she knew the risks of her position. Still, it gave him little comfort.
As he continued trying to make sense of her death, Jonas came to a realization. What made them different from evil was that they cared about life, not just their own life, but life in general. But it was this emotion, this desire to protect life, which made it more difficult to combat this evil, because they had so much to lose. The spark of life that they possessed, this inner light, so to speak, gave them hopes and dreams, but the desire to keep this light lit hampered their ability to fight evil. It was ironic really, and quite simple, but Jonas had never thought about it in that way. To truly fight evil, you had to be prepared to die, and you had to be prepared to have loved ones die around you, especially if they had also taken the oath to fight against the forces of darkness. Taleen had taken that oath, and so had Jonas. For some reason this thought did make him feel a little better.
Jonas turned away from the mirror, and slowly lowered himself into the tub of steaming hot water, his tired body relishing the soothing feeling as the intense heat drew the tension from his muscles. He reached for a clean cloth and a bar of soap sitting on a side table next to the basin. He lathered himself up and used the cloth to scrub his body clean. The soap foamed up quickly and before long there was a layer of suds covering the warm water. He leaned back in the tub, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes.
His mind drifted around as he thought of everything that had happened to him. His body was relaxed, and the warm water submerged his anxious thoughts, which sank like stones to a place deep within himself. Within a few moments he drifted off to sleep, which was why he did not notice Myrell slowly open the door and move towards him.
She was wearing a long flowing white gown that clung to her body as she walked into the room. She, too, had bathed, and her long brown hair, now washed and clean, glistened in the soft candlelight. Her tanned and flawless skin was now devoid of the dust and sweat that had covered their bodies the last few weeks.
“Jonas,” she whispered, kneeling by the tub.
Jonas thought he was dreaming. There was a part of his mind that had heard his name. The voice was familiar, and the gentle whisper stroked his mind, making him feel at ease.
Then he felt a soft wet pressure on his lips. His tired mind drifted with the possibilities as his mouth slowly opened to accept the kiss. Her touch was light and searching, and Jonas slowly opened his eyes as his mind drifted back to reality.
Instantly he scooted back in the tub, splashing water over the edge. Myrell was on her knees by the side of the tub, her face close to his own, and her mouth slightly open and glistening with moisture.
“Jonas. It is just me,” she said softly.
“What…what are you doing here,” Jonas stammered, very much aware of his nudity, though, luckily the thick suds managed very well to hide his body.
“Well, I should’ve thought that was obvious,” she replied with a mischievous smile.
Jonas was acutely aware of her beauty. His eyes were drawn to the thin white fabric that clung to her body, the transparent fabric revealing much more than it concealed.
She reached up, touching his face softly. Her fingers slowly traced the outline of his jaw as she gazed into his eyes. “Jonas, I cannot stop thinking of you. I was lying in bed and you kept appearing in my mind. Then it came to me. I, or you, may die tonight, or tomorrow, and I would never know what it was like to lie in your arms, to feel your strong body against mine. I want that Jonas, more than anything I have ever wanted.”
Myrell leaned in and softly kissed his cheek. The touch of her gentle lips sent a tingle down his spine and an overwhelming feeling of warmth spread through his body as blood rushed to his extremities, bringing a flush to his face.
Her kiss slowly moved across to the tip of his nose. Her breath was warm and her mouth tasted of sweet wine. Her soft hair, infused with the tantalizing aroma of some exotic fruit, gently brushed his bare neck.
Jonas had never before experienced such a strong pleasurable feeling. He was so overcome by it that he could barely restrain himself from grabbing her and pulling her into the water. Then her lips again found his and that simple touch broke down the wall that was holding back his passion. His mouth opened eagerly to accept her kiss, and he reached up and grabbed the back of her head, pushing her face tighter to his, their mouths opening further as they both succumbed to their passion. His whole body ached for her, and their kisses lost all control, becoming desperate and animalistic, born of a desire that neither could control.
Finally, Myrell broke the kiss, leaving Jonas panting. She stood up quickly, reached up to the top of her gown and unfastened the two buttons that secured it, allowing the light garment to slowly fall to her feet.
Jonas’s eyes widened as he gazed at her, taking in her beauty. His eyes wandered from her lovely face to the rest of her body, lingering over her smooth skin and her shapely limbs, toned and muscled from physical labor. The soft candlelight silhouetted her sensuous body, filling him with a sense of wonder. He wanted to savor and prolong the moment, but his body couldn’t wait.
He locked eyes with her again and she smiled, slowly stepping into the warm water with him. As their lips again found each other, they quickly succumbed to the pent up passion that claimed their bodies. They lost themselves in the spiraling sensations of pleasure, that, for a brief moment in time, allowed them to forget all else.
***
Gullanin stood in front of a huge roaring bon fire built of man sized logs, and standing behind him were another fifty Gould-Irin Orcs, outfitted for war and eagerly waiting for the chance to spill blood. They were nearly eight feet tall and their bulging muscles rippled over heavy bone. They all bore thick black plate mail that they wore like a repugnant, impenetrable second skin. Their weapons were crude slashing blades and heavy war axes. Neither spears nor bows would be needed where they were going.
Malbeck stood before him holding the Spear of Gould high in his right hand while he finished the last few phrases of his spell. Normally a dimensional door spell could only move a few people magically from one spot to another, but this spell was being cast by Malbeck himself, and was supported by the Shan Cemar, the ancient elven book that held the true words of magic. Long ago the elves were the first to harness the power of the Ru’Ach, therefore their ancient language holds an affinity to that power, a link stronger than any other language. These words, long ago hidden but now found, would be transporting much more than just a few bodies through this door.
An elaborate plan had been set forth as soon as Gullanin had returned from his failed trip. He had teleported himself into Cuthaine and schemed with the Blackhearts hiding out in the city. Even in the best of times, Blackhearts were always around, lurking in cities, hiding in the shadows, and waiting for victims and hoping to perform tasks that would make the Forsworn reward them with riches and power. But the news of Malbeck’s rise and the destruction of Tarsis were helping spread darkness everywhere in Kraawn, and now the Blackhearts were getting bolder. There were more and more followers of the Forsworn roaming the streets of Cuthaine, and they were more than eager to be a part of Malbeck’s plan.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck Page 29