"I already said he is committed to advising the leaders of Anavar."
"Then he must decide what is more important. I will not join your faculty nor mentor them in the arts. You must deal with your own wayward students."
"Blackthorne, I ask you as a favor to a friend."
"I have no friends. It is time for you to leave." Blackthorne suddenly crouched in conjuring posture. "You were followed. We have company."
The mages began to prepare their spells and Blackthorne stood up, laughing at them.
"You cannot detect his approach and you don't even know if he is a friend or foe. Luckily he is a friend, or you would perish."
"I thought you said you had no friends," snapped Dimont.
"He doesn't," said Kerreth Veralier. He appeared at the doorway behind them led by Wotba. "We tolerate him because of his humor." Kerreth Veralier stood six and a half feet tall and had broad shoulders. He was the greatest fighter in all of Landermass; his two curved swords sheathed on his belt. He was part Zidar and had lived many centuries. Berlo kept staring at the tusks protruding from his lower lip. Dimont elbowed him.
Blackthorne scowled at Kerreth. Kerreth smiled down on the sorcerer.
"I have more guests than I care to have. What do you want, Kerreth?"
"To summon you to a meeting in Toraba. Talos Company and interested parties have to discuss a threat to Anavar. I would guess your guests here would find it illuminating."
"Do I have a choice?" asked Blackthorne.
"After all these years you need to ask that? Wotba, get your master ready for travel. We leave immediately."
"Yes, Great Kerreth." The goblin hopped to his duty.
"You want us to go?" asked Dimont.
"You must come with us," said Kerreth. "There is much to discuss that the Council of Mages should know."
They rode in silence most of the way to Toraba. Blackthorne fumed silently and Berlo and Vicare Dimont were too much in awe of Kerreth to ask him anything. Kerreth was pleased to ride in silence. Blackthorne's home was in the foothills of the mountains in northern Calendia and their journey east would take them north of Paglo, the land of the Tuors into the forests of Toraba the ancestral home of the Wierlun a nearly extinct race of earth magic practitioners. The Talos Company found it to be a secluded place to rest and recover from their activities. The influence of the Wierlun kept it devoid of human explorers and few Men lived near the area because it was far from the roads that crossed Anavar.
The first night they ate in silence. Kerreth kept the watch through the night. Berlo still could not believe the mighty man was the warrior of legend despite his imposing size. The second night passed as the first.
The afternoon of the third day Berlo could stand it no longer. He rode up to Kerreth to engage him in questions. Dimont was not paying attention and did not have the opportunity to stop Berlo.
"Are you really the Kerreth Veralier of the legends?"
"Well, I certainly don't know all the legends," rumbled Kerreth. "But I am the leader of the Talos Company and have been for many years."
"Thousands of years?"
"Depends on how many thousands, but long before your Gerrand founded the Council of Mages. Long before the Daerlan left Arda. Even before the Daerlan exterminated almost all the Wierlun."
"The Daerlan did that? I didn't know."
"It's not a story they are proud of."
"Did you know King Emileare of Nantitet?" asked Berlo.
"Now you are talking ancient history. I knew of him but never met him."
"How about Mauran de Arayr?"
"Berlo enough!" said Dimont. "I am sorry he asks so many questions."
"I don't mind but I won't discuss the last one."
"Why?" asked Berlo.
"Because I choose not to. Do not ask again." He urged his horse ahead.
"Why must you pester these people?" asked Dimont.
"What is wrong? I was curious."
"Don't be too curious with beings many times your age and many, many times your strength. Garval wanted you along in hopes you would do something to ruin my mission. I don't think he would have imagined you would insult Kerreth Veralier, but he would be very happy nonetheless."
Berlo hung his head as they rode until evening. He sat some distance from the fire. Kerreth had stretched out for a brief nap before taking the watch. Dimont stared into the fire. Blackthorne walked to Berlo and sat next to him.
"Don't be hard on yourself. You have been thrown into the lion's den. I think Vicare is worried he cannot survive the situation on his own and he worries for your welfare."
"Are we in danger?"
"Not directly," said Blackthorne. "But you are traveling with people the like of which you are not familiar and we will join with others equally unique and powerful. Your life will be changed. I don't know exactly how, but no one sees the other side without some transformation."
"Why are you so kind to me now?"
"I don't think of it as being kind. There is information you need to have. We are of one company now, at least for the journey to Toraba. We are only as strong as the weakest one, which is you. So I wish to ease some of your fretting. Also, it would irritate Dimont to know that I was helpful to you. And that pleases me very much."
"Glad to be of help," muttered Berlo. Blackthorne smiled and settled back to sleep.
The next day was sunny with few clouds. In the direct sun it was very warm. Kerreth stopped to allow Berlo and Dimont to catch up.
"That valley over there is Paglo," said Kerreth, pointing with a dagger.
"I've not seen a Tuor up close," said Berlo.
"We get so few of them in Calendia," said Dimont. "Men are too big and noisy for them."
"And dangerous," said Kerreth. "Tuors will not come to humna settlements without an armed escort. There were too many instances of wanton violence upon them in the past to risk encounters with Men. The Paglo border is closed to Men. The Border Guard are deadly with their arrows and their wood craft keeps them hidden from prying eyes. If you must go, go boldly and have a written request for their leader. They will give you every courtesy and you will be admitted or not. At least you will be allowed to depart without a hail of arrows chasing you."
They crossed the rocky highlands north of Paglo peacefully. Trolls were not down from the upper reaches of their land but Kerreth remained wary for even he had difficulty defeating a troll in combat strength to strength. Fortunately, trolls were not highly intelligent and easily evaded. The highlands dropped down into huge plains covering the land as far as the sea to the northeast. Directly north they would eventually come to the Koberi Desert where the Turucks make their homes. To the northwest, following the curve of the mountains dark splotches appear in the distance; the great forest of Toraba. Toraba was home to the Wierlun, a race of people that worshipped the land and drew their power from the earth. Centuries ago the Wierlun were hunted to extinction by King Oalaria of the Daerlan. A few escaped and the Wierlun began to rise again after the Daerlan left Arda and sailed to Amloth to found the kingdom of Liannest.
"Are going to a town or a camp?" asked Berlo.
"There are a few dwellings in Toraba but no towns," said Kerreth. "There is an area with several dwellings in fairly close proximity but not organized as a town. There is no king in Toraba, no subjects, no soldiers; just the remnant of a people clinging to their existence."
When they left the road to head north travelers on a wagon coming from the East hailed them. Kerreth stopped and waited for them to catch up. Blackthorne muttered under his breath and kept walking. Dimont and Berlo kept up with the sorcerer and glanced back at the newcomers. The wagon was a trader's wagon, crammed full of goods and the trader himself, heavyset and broad faced, looked familiar.
Kerreth raised his hand in greeting and the wagon driver did the same without any concern at the size of the man before him. However, the young man sitting next to him grinned like an idiot.
"Ho Kerreth! Where are you bou
nd?"
"Brevin! It's been a long time. I am taking Blackthorne and a couple mages to Toraba."
"Blackthorne!" exclaimed Davan. "That's who we came to find."
"It's who you came to find," said Brevin. "I don't want anything to do with him."
"Why do you want Blackthorne?" asked Kerreth.
"Oh, he doesn't want Blackthorne, he wanted to find the Talos Company and since he found you, that's even better."
"Why would you want to find me?" asked Kerreth. He looked close at the boy and something tugged at his memory but he didn't know why. "Do you know who I am?"
The boy shook his head but the grin never left his face.
"I am Kerreth Veralier. What could a mortal boy want with me?"
The boy stared at the tusks curling from Kerreth's lower jaw. Although they were actually quite small as tusks go, on a broad man well over six feet tall wearing two curved swords and leaning over the boy, the tusks were astounding.
"Now you've gone and paralyzed him, Kerreth," said Brevin. "How have you survived so long with no manners?"
"Sorry lad," said Kerreth. He stepped back. "How can I help you?"
"I'm Davan Greyrawk," his voice barely a whisper. "Ian Greyrawk's my father."
"Of course! You looked familiar but I couldn't figure it out. Ian Greyrawk. How are Ian and Jaele?"
"Mom's fine. I got a new brother, Aravan and my sister, Tera is fine too. It's my father that needs help."
"What's the trouble? Is he hurt?"
"We don't know. He's gone. He had been acting strange lately and disappeared a time or two overnight, but when he returned he couldn't remember what happened. This last time he might have killed someone but we can't find him. The only trace is a report of someone heading west. Mom is worried that it is something from the Celaeri war that haunts him."
"Well, your father is a capable man. He'll handle himself."
"That's just it, he's not himself. He had always been steady, predictable. He was always around the inn working. Before I left mother wanted me to reminder to say a certain word to you. Vlakan. Do you know what it means?"
"Vlakan? Are you sure she said Vlakan?"
"Yes. She made me repeat to her several times. They never talked about the Celaeri War and what little I knew was from the other kids in town. I never knew my parents were involved."
"Involved? They were at the center of it," said Kerreth. "You will travel with us."
"I know you'll take good care of Davan," said Brevin. "So I will consider my duty discharged."
Kerreth grinned at the fat trader. "You'll be joining us too. Change your appearance slightly if you don't want the mages to figure out who you are. I'm sure Blackthorne already knows."
"Probably why he didn't stop," said Brevin. "Do I have a choice? Thought not. Well, Davan my lad, we shall travel together a while longer."
The trader kept away from the mages and Davan figured Brevin knew his business. Blackthorne ignored Davan but Kerreth was happy to have him walk at his side. The plains never changed day after day. Then one day Davan realized the trees were finally grower closer.
The trees quickly filled their path, growing close together. Kerreth made a winding passage for several miles and they made poor time. Berlo thought he heard whispers among the branches.
"Master Vicare, do you hear anything?"
"No. There is nothing. Ignore it."
"Ignore nothing?" asked Blackthorne. "You have interesting concepts in that magic school of yours. Or do you just ignore things you don't understand?"
Dimont did not answer. Berlo was deep in thought and Blackthorne chuckled to himself. Kerreth shook his head as he did with all of Blackthorne's verbal jabs.
"What danger is nearby, Master Kerreth?" asked Berlo.
"I told you to ignore it," said Dimont.
"The voices were of the dead Wierlun," said Kerreth. "The trees speak for them. Their ending was a tragedy and their lamentation never ceases."
"Will they harm us?" asked Berlo.
"Only if you let them," said Kerreth. "Keep them out of your heads."
"How do we do that?" asked Davan.
"By not being stupid boy," said Blackthorne. "So only Dimont and Berlo need to worry."
"That was unkind," said Dimont.
"Even the trader is smarter about magic than you are," said Blackthorne.
"Ha, I'd wager against that," said Dimont. "I am a full Mage and instructor at the Mage Academy." Berlo looked back at the trader whose face was in shadow.
"Would you now?" said Blackthorne with a smile that changed Davan's perception of the sorcerer. "I'd go for that bet."
"Blackthorne," said Kerreth coolly.
Davan drew close to Kerreth. "Why does Brevin wish to hide his identity?"
It took a moment for Davan to realize the deep rumble was the beginning of a laugh. "Ah, well. It's really up to him to tell you. Not my place."
Davan listened to the sniping between Blackthorne and Dimont as he slipped back to the wagon. He pulled himself up on the seat beside Brevin.
"I heard them," said Brevin. "And now you want to know why I keep to myself."
"Exactly. Are you in trouble?"
"Ha, not the way you think. And Dimont couldn't bring me trouble I couldn't handle. I turned away from a life I didn't want and now I am happy as a trader. It's a good life and I do not want to give it up."
"Why would you give it up?"
"Dimont would try to convince me to return to the Mage Academy."
"Were you a student?"
"Long ago. But I was the Headmaster when I left, rather abruptly. It is widely believed that I did not leave of my own accord. There are many factions within the Academy and I grew tired of the discord. Dimont's group wants me to return to root out the subversive element of the Mage Academy. I chose not to return."
"You were the Headmaster? You must be powerful."
"Ha. There are many levels of power, Davan, which you will soon find out. I may be stronger than some but weaker than others. It would be a good tenant to remember, that there is always someone stronger than you. Remember that and you will limit foolish endeavors. You are traveling in strange company now and your life will never be the same."
Brevin would not say more and Davan walked silently along Kerreth again. The forest muffled sounds and the visibility was minimal. The breezes could not penetrate this far into the wood and the air became stuffy. The huge lichen draped trees towered over them. Davan glanced at Kerreth, but the huge man walked with a purpose heedless of his surroundings, or at least he appeared so to Davan. The light dimmed so much that it was difficult to make out the features of his companions. He squinted to see further around him and he thought he saw a figure a few yards off keeping pace with them.
"Kerreth!" Davan whispered. "There's someone over there."
"Yes, I know. He's been watching us for several minutes. If he thought we were enemies he would have attacked. So there's no worry for you. Still, stay close. He doesn't always do what is expected."
The trek seemed endless to Davan. He frequently glanced to where he thought the figure was but saw nothing. He tried to emulate Kerreth's relaxed air but could not. After several hours the forest grew light and their path rose. The terrain changed from the worn path into a rocky trail but it seemed little traveled. Davan could no longer see the figure traveling with them. Kerreth answered the unspoken question.
"This rocky path is seldom found by wanderers. No one reaches the hilltop that is not expected. Their enemies will wander for days in the close wood without seeing the hill."
When they reached the top Davan saw that it was more than one hill bunched together and bathed in sunlight. Several small houses had been built in a careless pattern around a large oak tree. Kerreth led them to the tree.
The houses were all single story built into the slopes of the hills with bushes growing up to the rooftops. Wild flowers covered many of the roofs as well as the ground up to the shade of the oak tree.
Davan saw no people but the birds sang and it appeared peaceful. Kerreth dismounted and sat against the trunk of the tree. Dimont and Berlo stood together by their horses. Brevin left his wagon and sat next to Kerreth. Blackthorne walked to the larger of the houses and rapped on the door. The door opened and a tall man with pale blue skin and long black hair stepped out and waved to Kerreth. A Daerlan and a slender dark haired woman followed him.
"I'm Loric and this is Moria," he said to the mages. He only introduced the Daerlan, not the slender woman.
"I am Vicare Dimont and this is Berlo."
"Ah, mages from Calendia?" said Loric.
"Mages!" said the dark woman, her eyes flashed.
"And who are you?" asked Dimont.
"I am Wynne. Blackthorne, why did you bring them?"
"I brought them," said Kerreth.
"And why did you bring him!" asked a young man, stepping out of the forest, pointing at Davan. "I don't like him."
"Peace, Jarius," said Wynne. "I'm sure Kerreth has good reasons."
"I do. He is Davan Greyrawk."
"Davan? Why are you here?" asked Loric. He stepped around the others and hugged Davan.
"Uncle Loric! Father has disappeared. Strange things have been happening."
"Ian is missing?"
"That's why he is here," said Kerreth. "We will speak of it later. We need to speak to Gerrand."
"Gerrand?" asked Berlo. "It is true."
"Of course," said a voice. "I am still here, but you Berlo Bardun and you Vicare Dimont shall never speak of this meeting." An old man, bearded and bald, his skin pulled tight over his face and top of his head. He leaned on his staff but did not seem a great age but Gerrand the sorcerer had seen several hundred years. At his side was a small woman, her black hair streaked with silver.
"I am Faeya Ryr. And you are all welcome here."
Wynne mumbled under her breath.
"This is my home too," said Jarius. "I don't trust Davan. He's brought evil here."
"He is hunting evil," said Kerreth. "He is hunting Vlakan."
Davan sat apart from the others with a bowl of hot stew. He took a spoonful and then watched the others, disbelieving the world he had entered. The Talos Company was legendary; to Davan it was bedtime stories and adventures spun by the bards who passed through the inn. Yet, they stood before him. Kerreth Veralier part Zidar and part what? Six and a half foot tall, board and immensely strong, tusks jutting from his lower lip and rumored to be thousands of years old. Davan saw one of the little folk, the Tuors and two Daerlan plus various mages and sorcerers. Even Davan had heard of Gerrand, the stooped old man once the greatest sorcerer on Anavar, now surpassed by the dark and brooding Blackthorne. The dark haired woman, Wynne was a sorceress and the mother of Melian the witch who tempted unwary travelers into her snares. Brevin, the trader who visited the inn several times a year was really a stranger, a mage once the head of the Mage Academy. Then there was the strange young man who sat staring at him. It was hard to swallow the stew even as tasty as this. His uncle Loric sat next to Kerreth gesturing emphatically about something or another. Only Gerrand's companion, Faeya Ryr, made Davan feel at ease but he knew she was a sorceress too. The fat mage who served the stew shuffled over to him and sat down without asking.
The Vlakan King (Book 3) Page 12