by AC Cobble
Jasper didn’t respond. Instead, he stood and stalked to the end of the pass, twenty paces away. He stood staring down the mountain into the blackness of the valley below.
Amelie glanced at Ben and he swallowed.
“Jasper,” he called. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know what you meant,” interjected the mage.
Two days later, they reached a rough mining camp. During the summer months, it would be a hub of activity. In winter, it was populated by a handful of custodians who maintained the buildings and kept watch over the equipment.
“It’s cheaper to pay them to winter here and watch the place than to cart everything back to Cormender,” explained Jasper. “They shouldn’t have much interest in us. A few of them may even recognize me. I pass through here a couple of times a year along with a handful of other loners who live up in the mountains. I’ve found the men who choose to stay here in the winter aren’t the curious type or the type to socialize any more than they have to.”
“What’s the name of the place?” asked Amelie.
Jasper shrugged. “Not sure it has one.”
“You’re right. It is quiet,” remarked Ben as they approached the handful of clapboard structures. Ben saw cottages for the caretakers, storage for equipment, and what must be dormitories in the busy months. Undisturbed snow piled in drifts against the side of the buildings. The place was a silent as a graveyard. No smoke drifted from any of the chimneys.
“Incredibly quiet. Inexplicably quiet,” added Amelie nervously.
“Should we investigate?” inquired Ben.
“I think we all know what happened here,” responded Jasper grimly. “Let’s move on.”
8
Dark Territory
It was early morning and the sun was rising behind the city of Cormender. Shadows spread out from the stacked stone walls, creating a lightless moat in front of the city. They watched the shadows shrink as day broke.
The companions stood in the center of a rutted dirt track that led down from the mountains. In better weather, heavily laden carts would rumble down the track, carrying chunks of granite and limestone from the quarries at the base of the mountains. Now, the wheel ruts were filled with shallow pools of ice and the track between the companions and Cormender’s gates was empty.
“You’re sure we won’t have a problem getting in?” queried Amelie.
“Why would we have a problem?” asked Jasper.
“This is the westernmost outpost of the Coalition in the north,” mentioned Amelie. “They’ve declared war on my home. They’ve put it under siege and have a bounty on my head.”
Jasper grinned. “You’re talking about Lady Amelie, lass. You are someone else now. You are someone inconspicuous, someone the Coalition has no interest in. You’re just another wanderer in the north, fleeing the recent troubles, passing through town on the way to your home.”
“I was recognized in Kirksbane,” protested Ben. “If they recognize us here, there will be no escape. I think we need disguises.”
Jasper started forward. “Come on. We’ve been over this. They were looking for you in Kirksbane. That won’t be the case when you enter Coalition territory. The greatest illusions are the ones we do to ourselves. The mind sees what it wants, and they will not see you as enemies if you don’t act like enemies. A disguise opens the door for suspicion. Trust me. I’ve been doing this a long time.”
Ben grunted and followed after the mage. Amelie fell in behind Ben. The gates of Cormender stood open. As they approached, a pair of Coalition grey-clad guards sauntered out from their warm guard shack.
Tugging a hood over his head, one of them called out, “State your business.”
The guard spoke casually, but his hand didn’t stray from his side where a broadsword hung. His partner stayed near the shack and a ham-sized brass bell. He clutched a crossbow. Depending on the disturbance they caused, the second man could put a bolt in them or ring the bell for reinforcements.
Jasper strode forward, waiting to respond until he was within a dozen paces of the pair.
“My business is getting out of here,” grumbled Jasper. He paused in front of the men. “It’s too dangerous in these mountains to stick around. We just passed through the mining camp two days up the road. You oughta let your captain know to send some men. Looks like no one’s there. First time I seen that in the years I’ve been prospecting these mountains. There’s demons up in those hills. I seen ‘em.”
“We know,” grumbled the first guard. “The camp got overrun three weeks back and it’s been shut since. Governor’s waiting until spring, then he’ll send men to clear out the hills.”
“Nice of someone to let us all know,” griped Jasper, staring bitterly at the guards. “Lots of good folk up there. People could get hurt.”
“Old man, we don’t have time to go chasing all of you lunatics around the woods and making sure you’re safe,” barked the guard. “You go out of these gates, you’re on your own.”
“I’m not a lunatic,” muttered the mage.
Ben and Amelie stood quietly behind him. The mage had been right. These guards weren’t giving them a second look.
“Sure you’re not,” responded the guard with a sigh. “Look, old man, all refugees are instructed to go check in at the assignment center. They’ll find you a hot meal and a bed. Through these gates, six blocks down and three blocks to the right.”
Jasper snorted. “I don’t need an assignment, pup. We’re not refugees. We’re just passing through. I got family in Boggytown. We’re going there.”
The guard shrugged. “If you say so, old man.”
The second guard had already turned and stalked back to the guard shack when they passed through the open gates.
“See,” chided Jasper. “I told you not to worry.”
“What’s the assignment center?” asked Ben, glancing at the guards behind them. The pair was paying them no more mind.
“That’s where you go to get a bite to eat and a place to sleep,” responded Jasper. “They’ll give you a job if you can’t find one yourself. The Coalition will provide everything you need.”
“I don’t understand,” replied Ben. “They give away food and shelter to anyone?”
Jasper nodded, peering at the street ahead of them. “To anyone who needs it.”
Ben frowned but let it drop. They were walking down the muddy streets of Cormender and he needed to focus. Despite the ease of entry, they were in Coalition territory. Every moment held potential danger. He eyed the people on the street, looking for anything that felt out of place. Amelie walked close beside him.
“All of these houses,” she said, “look the same.”
Ben turned his attention from the people to the buildings. Amelie was right. Along the entire length of the street were three-story houses, wall-to-wall and identical to each other. They appeared to continue for blocks. Dark wood beams framed dirty white stucco exteriors. Weather-beaten shutters braced the windows, and peeling, unpainted doors blocked the entries. Thin thatch sagged along the rooftops.
“Government housing,” explained Jasper. “We’re in one of the newer quarters of the city. This is where the unfortunates live, where they get assigned to. The Coalition provides the housing, but the residents are supposed to maintain it. Which is probably why they look like hell. No pride of ownership,” finished the mage, shaking his head.
“This looks rather depressing,” mumbled Amelie.
“Don’t worry,” assured Jasper. “There are nicer quarters toward the center of town. We’ll stay there.”
Frozen mud crunched under Ben’s boots as they continued down the street. Now that he noticed the buildings, the slumped shoulders and haggard looks of the crowd started painting a clear picture. It wasn’t that there were too many people in the streets. It was that they weren’t doing anything. Compared to the noisy bustle of commerce in Fabrizo, Whitehall, or the City, the quiet of Cormender was eerie.
As they got further into
the city, they found shops open and selling goods like anywhere else, but here, the merchants were not calling out their wares. They sat patiently behind counters or before storefronts. When a customer shuffled up to observe their displays, the merchants eyed them listlessly.
They travelled through the streets, entering progressively more prosperous quarters until Jasper steered them to a stone-fronted inn. If the place had been set on a distant hill instead of in the middle of a busy street, Ben would have called it a castle. Hanging above the doors was a wooden sign, a blue-painted donkey.
They stepped inside and Ben was relieved to see the place was lively. A barmaid swished by them, thick skirts trailing in her wake.
“Pick a seat, lads. I’ll be right with you,” she called behind her. “The miners are down from the hills and the whole town is busting at the seams.”
The majority of people in the room were clustered around a handful of tables in the center. Between them, Ben saw stacks of silver and copper coins. A man threw a handful of small, wooden cubes. The crowd erupted in a cheer. One man, beaming ear-to-ear, scooped a pile of coins from in front of another. The second, the one who’d lost his coin, slunk away from the table and staggered to the bar.
“Gambling,” muttered Amelie.
Ben nodded. He was unfamiliar with the little cubes the man had thrown, but the elation of the victor and the sour grimace of the loser gave it away. The rules may differ, but the results of games of chance were always the same.
“It’s common for strangers to pass through these places,” said Jasper quietly, his voice barely rising above the buzz of conversation in the room. “Also, the food is good and the drinks are cheap.”
The barmaid swung by their table and they ordered a round of ales, a roast chicken, and loaf of bread.
Ben carefully eyed the room but nothing seemed amiss. These people would have fit right in Northport. The gambling was fast-paced and, judging by the roars of observers, involved significant sums changing hands. No one was paying any attention to their little party.
When the ales arrived, Jasper ducked down and drew two pouches from his travel pack. The first pouch clinked with the telltale sound of coins. Ben peeked inside. Silver and gold reflected back at him. He turned the pouch so Amelie could see.
“Keep that hidden, particularly in this place,” advised Jasper. “The bouncers keep it orderly, but you flash that much wealth, and girls and gamblers will swarm you.”
“Why are you giving us this?” asked Amelie.
“It’s time for me to leave,” answered Jasper. “As you get closer to Irrefort, my presence will only increase your danger. The coins mean nothing to me. I have plenty. I know from Creegan you don’t have any. You need it.”
Ben grimaced but didn’t respond. Having the mage with them gave him a sense of comfort. The man was competent at everything he set his hand to. He was right though. If Lord Jason knew him and had warded for him, then it was too great a risk.
Next, Jasper slid the second pouch to Amelie. She hesitated and looked inside then back up at the mage.
“A mage’s toolkit. Cheap stuff,” he explained with a smile. “It’s always worth keeping a few things around. You never know when you might need them.”
Ben glanced inside as well and saw the prism Amelie had been practicing with on the road, a tuft of what looked like sheep’s wool, a ball of dark metal, and a few other objects he couldn’t see. Random items, junk.
“I have something for you to look at,” said Amelie, blushing. She pulled the small wooden oval out, the one they’d used to communicate with Towaal. “I meant to show it earlier, but with the demons and the training, I forgot. Can you tell me what this is?”
“Thought meld,” answered Jasper quickly.
Amelie frowned at him. “We used it to communicate with Lady Towaal when we were at Creegan’s. She was in Northport, I believe.”
Jasper nodded. “It can be used for communication and more. Our thoughts, our ideas, are energy just like the light and heat around us. With sufficient will, they can be manipulated just like that energy. The thought meld facilitates that. The thoughts we form for language are the easiest to transmit, but images and ideas are also possible. I should warn you that it can be dangerous. If you do not have absolute trust with the person sending to you, I implore you not to use this device.”
“Why not?” asked Amelie.
“Ideas can be dangerous things,” responded Jasper.
“I trust Lady Towaal,” responded Amelie.
“You’re certain?” the mage asked after sipping his ale. “The Sanctuary is known for manipulation. They’ve been doing it for millennia.”
Amelie shook her head. “I can’t fathom what designs Lady Towaal might have on us. Our path has been wild and winding. Unless she is playing some deeper game than I can understand, she’s had ample opportunity to do whatever she wants with us. In Northport, we were practically begging her for direction, and she never gave it.”
“She swore fealty to us,” added Ben. “Sort of.”
Jasper blinked.
“Really?” asked the mage, setting his ale mug down. “If I may ask without being rude, why did she do that?”
“She said she’s done a lot of bad things. Rhys too,” explained Ben. “They say they want to atone for it, do some good. They said they’d tried before, but it never worked. So, instead of them deciding what to do next, they let us decide. They said they’d support us in what we wanted to do. They would follow where we led.”
Jasper ran a hand over his short white hair. “That is honorable of them, trying to do the right thing. People change, I guess.” He stretched and scooted back from the table. “Nature is calling. Order me another round if the barmaid comes by.”
Ben nodded and sipped his ale. It was an amber, strong and rich. It reminded him of the ales he brewed in Farview during the fall, full of flavor and stiff enough to warm you on a cold evening.
He reached a hand across the table and gripped Amelie’s. “When he leaves us today, it will be just us again. You ready?”
She smiled back at Ben. “Do I have a choice?”
A dull rattling sound drew Ben’s attention. He turned to find a man approaching them. The man was dressed in loose, flowing clothing, and his head was shaved bare. On his hip, he carried a broad-bladed scimitar. He walked with a confident strut.
“Care to gamble a little?” he asked, shaking a handful of wooden cubes.
The room had gone silent. Ben glanced around and saw some of the other gamblers had turned to watch the man.
“No, not today,” answered Ben.
The man gave an exaggerated frown. “Oh, come now. You’re sitting in the Blue Donkey, one of the finest gambling establishments outside of Ooswam. These dice games were strange to me at first, but I’ve found I have a knack for them. Surely you’d like to play. Maybe you’ll get lucky too?”
Ben looked around for Jasper. The mage was nowhere to be seen.
“No, really,” mumbled Ben, “I’m not a gambler.”
The man stepped closer and turned to Amelie.
“Lady, I’m sure you can appreciate a good gamble. It makes your heart race and your breath come quick. It’s almost as exciting as,” the man’s oily smile stretched across his face, “well, we can talk about that later. I’ll buy you a drink if you kiss my dice. The lips of a beautiful woman have always brought me good luck.”
Ben glared at the man. “Sir, we are not interested.”
“You’re not interested,” retorted the man, “but I believe your lady is.”
Amelie shook her head, red-faced. “No, I am not.”
The man’s hand shot forward and he gripped her arm.
“Lady, I insist you kiss my dice.”
Ben slapped the man’s hand away from his friend and stood. He was standing chest-to-chest with the gambler. That close, the man’s glassy, unfocused eyes had trouble settling on Ben. Ben could smell the stench of too many ales on the man’s breath. T
he shaven-headed man stepped back, eyeing Ben balefully. His body was tense.
Jasper’s voice sounded in Ben’s ear, a whisper coming on a gentle wind. Without turning his head, Ben knew it was coming from across the room.
“Don’t draw your sword,” advised Jasper. “If you draw, you’ll gain the attention of the watch.”
Ben lips twisted at the comment.
The man from Ooswam smiled and placed a hand on his scimitar. “Are you scared, boy?”
A hands-length of steel cleared the scabbard. The room was entirely silent now. Ben wanted to turn and find the bouncer, but he couldn’t break eye contact with the man. If he did, that scimitar could be out and lodged in his neck before he could react.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t defend yourself,” came Jasper’s whisper. “Do it without your sword, and don’t kill him.”
The man’s shoulder shifted and Ben launched forward. With one hand, he chopped down at his opponent’s sword hand. With the other, he smashed his fist into the man’s jaw. The gambler was stunned and crashed backward, falling onto his back. He scrambled across the floor, struggling to rise and draw his scimitar at the same time.
Now the bouncers arrived. They placed themselves between Ben and the man, who was still sprawled on the ground, though he’d managed to draw his sword.
“He assaulted me!” shouted the fallen man.
The largest bouncer’s heavily lidded eyes turned to Ben.
“He was about to draw steel,” protested Ben. “I struck him to prevent bloodshed. I didn’t want to have to kill him.”
“You couldn’t kill me, you pup,” snarled the man.
“No duels are to take place under this roof,” growled the bouncer. “You lose at the tables and you deal with it. We won’t have blood spilt in here.”