by Wilson Harp
Just when he was in range to charge and swing, he caught sight of another goblin a few feet away from the first. This one had an arrow shaft sunk deep into his head.
Karl looked back at the first goblin and realized that there was an arrow sticking out of it as well. That arrow was dead middle of the goblin’s chest and had pinned him to the stone wall. Karl motioned Val and Medrick forward, and was stunned once again when he saw a third goblin lying on the ground a short distance away with an arrow through his eye.
“Who would have been here?” Medrick asked as he looked around the barren landscape.
“Lendin?” asked Val.
“Maybe,” said Karl “But we need to get going while the moon is still up.”
Even in the dim light of the moon, the trip down the narrow crevice was much easier than the trip up. They had to go slowly for Val, but the sheer joy to be alive and on the way home gave them energy and endurance.
They finally made it to Long Branch just an hour or so past midnight, and Karl set up a single tent for Val before he and Medrick collapsed around a small fire. Once during the night, Karl awoke when he heard something moving around the crumbling building where he had stored his pack, but he didn’t see anything and after a few minutes sleep overtook him.
The next morning Val was complaining about having dropped his sword and shield when the crossbow bolt had slammed into him, but he was very grateful to his brother and Medrick as they recounted what had happened. Medrick showed both of the brothers the locket. It was closed, and none of them could figure out how to open it. Medrick said he would show it to Orias and see if he could divine any information about it.
“I have a question, Medrick,” Karl said as he shouldered the pack when they broke camp. “How did you make those sounds that the goblins followed?”
“Magic!” replied Medrick. “It was the first spell I learned from Master Orias. It’s one of his favorite spells and is useful in many situations.”
“Make sure you tell him how useful it was on this adventure. I wish we had found some gold coins like Lendin and Horas did, but we did fight goblins and find a magic locket, so I guess it really was an adventure.” Karl laughed as they traveled down the trail.
By noon the group of friends had made its way out of the Shadowmist Wood and was on the high road to Black Oak. They saw Lendin going into the back of the Silver Sword Inn as they were passing by and decided to stop in to tell him about their adventure and to have a quick drink.
The lunch crowd was at its high mark when they entered the common room. Cassie motioned to the only empty table and then went back in the kitchen. They took seats at the table, and a few seconds later Lendin came out of the kitchen over to where they were.
“I got that big stag we saw. Just brought the meat by, and Croft gave me twelve silver coins plus two more for the coneys I took this morning on my snare lines,” Lendin said as he sat down at their table.
“So you weren’t up at the mine yesterday after we left?” Medrick asked.
“No, why? What happened?” Lendin asked.
A quick drink turned into a full lunch and a long break from the trip back to Black Oak. They told not only Lendin but also many of the farmers and craftsmen their story of the goblin mine. Some parts they had to repeat several times to cheers. They showed the locket to everyone, but once Medrick announced that it was enchanted in some way, no one else wanted to touch it.
The dead goblins which had been so precisely shot raised a lot of questions, but were as big of a mystery by the end as at the beginning of the tale. Even the uneventful trip back to Long Branch in the dark was met by gasps and nods all around.
By that evening, the brothers had been welcomed home by their father and paid ten silver coins each by Medrick.
Medrick handed over twice as much lichen as Orias had requested. The wizard nodded gently as he listened to the tale of how his young apprentice had acquired it.
It was well past midnight in Orias’ tower, and the candles still burned. Orias sat back in his chair and looked at the amulet. He had been looking at it all night.
“So that’s where you ended up, Alinor,” he muttered.
A Debt to Pay
Croft stifled a yawn as he trudged out of his small bedroom behind the bar and into the common room. His candle flickered weakly against the darkness. The innkeeper had beaten the sun up, as he had every morning since re-opening the Silver Sword Inn.
The bright glow coming from the fireplace gave him pause since it was normally just smoldering coals first thing in the morning.
“Good morning.” A melodic voice softly greeted the innkeeper.
Croft looked around the common room to find the voice.
“I guess I shouldn’t have expected that my room would still be open for me. I didn’t let you know I would be stopping by, and it was rather late when I got in.”
Croft saw the speaker on the far side of the room staring out the window towards the pre-dawn stars.
“Who are you?” the innkeeper asked while fighting off another yawn.
The man at the window turned and took a couple of steps into the room. The fire in the hearth illuminated him, and Croft saw an elf in fine cut clothes and tasteful yet plentiful adornment. His hair was raven black, his eyes the color of a morning sky after a snow filled night, and his movements gracefully regal. Croft had known elves through his years, but he had only known one who could pull off an air of elegance like this.
“Calaran? Is that you?” Croft came closer to the elf, squinting through his sleepiness.
Yes, Croft. It is no other but I. Curious that Mancorl would leave the inn to you of all of his friends, but perhaps he saw in you some of himself,” Calaran said as he offered his hand to Croft.
Croft shook the elf’s hand and looked carefully at him. Calaran stood tall for an elf, almost as tall as an average human man, and was built more for battle than for playing a harp and telling stories of faraway places.
“I usually stay in the room overlooking the apple tree out back. There is a nice breeze through that window and two floorboards that are hard, but not impossible, to remove,” Calaran said as he smiled Croft.
“Floorboards?”
“I’ll show you when I get settled in later this morning,” said Calaran as he moved to open the window shutters in the common room.
Croft went to the kitchen to make sure the ovens were lit and then went to wake Magda and Cassie. Magda started making breakfast, and Cassie sat at one of the tables to wait for the guests to rise. Croft saw her speaking with Calaran as he restocked the wood by the hearth in the common room. A few minutes later he saw her collecting the candlesticks from the tables and setting them on the bar. That was something she never did without being told.
In the kitchen, Magda was singing while Calaran accompanied her with his harp. The bard’s influence was spreading quickly as he greeted the guests coming down to take breakfast and prepare for their day.
Croft shook his head a few minutes later as he heard laughter from near the bar and looked over to see Calaran pulling a drink for a merchant named Litton who was skipping breakfast to get to Black Oak early with his supply of glassware from Gen to hawk on the merchant’s square.
When the breakfast rush was over and most of the guests had left, Calaran came over to Croft and pressed some coins into his hand. “That is for Litton’s beer, and I pressed some bread and cheese on him to eat on the way. The extra is for my room for four nights. I would get another keg of beer ready for tonight, because it’s going to be crowded in here.”
“Thank you Calaran, I don’t know what to say. This isn’t how I remembered you,” Croft admitted.
“Have no fear, I’m as arrogant and aloof as ever, and you will find me intrusive and intolerable at times. But it is in my best interest for your inn to run smoothly and profitably,” the elf said as he skipped up the stairs with his saddlebags and backpack.
Croft looked around and went through his morning chec
klist. Everything appeared to be well in hand, and the porridge in the kitchen should still be warm, so he decided to have some breakfast. As he was finishing his bowl and a scrap of bread from the day before, he heard Calaran coming back down the stairs.
“Croft, come up. I’ll show you the floorboards.”
Croft finished putting the last bite of porridge in his mouth and walked up to the room where Calaran had put his things. When he got there he saw that the bard had indeed pulled up two floorboards, revealing a large compartment under the floor. Croft got down on his hands and knees and looked at how it was constructed. Big enough to fit two grown men and built to prevent boots from finding a hollow spot when walked over, it seemed to have been purposefully designed.
“Why would Mancorl build this?” Croft asked.
“He didn’t; the inn was originally designed with this space,” Calaran replied.
Croft looked up at the elf. “What do you mean? I thought Mancorl built this inn?”
“No. Not Mancorl. He inherited it from Garric about the time he gave up adventuring. Garric inherited… well, the history of the inn isn’t important at this time. Let’s just say that Mancorl and Garric and the previous owners all knew about this compartment, and it was past time you did as well.” Calaran was sorting through his clothes on the bed.
“What could it be used for? If guests are staying here, it would be hard for me to store anything useful.”
“Usually for friends of the inn to secure items of importance. I rarely use it for such, but there may be others who might request a place to store things. I wouldn’t do it too often nor for people I wouldn’t trust with my life, but it does become an option for you. There might also be a time you find you will want to secure a person or two.”
Croft picked up the floorboards and slid them back into place. He looked closely but couldn’t see any indication of how they were to be removed again.
“How do I get back into the compartment?” he asked Calaran.
“See the white apple blossom painted on the wall?”
Croft looked at the far wall and saw a faded small white flower that looked like it had been drawn by an idle hand about a foot off the floor.
“Slide a knife blade between the baseboard and floor.” Calaran held a sheathed knife out to Croft.
Croft took the knife and knelt by the spot on the wall. The blade fit snugly in a narrow opening. He pushed the blade in further and heard a click behind him on the floor. He looked back and saw that one end of one of the boards had popped up about a quarter of an inch, barely enough to grab and pull up.
“You mentioned that someone could be hidden down there, but wouldn’t they be trapped and suffocate?” Croft said as he stood and sheathed the knife.
“Not at all, there is plenty of air in there, and the release is easy to find even in the dark.”
“Sounds like you speak from experience.”
“A few times, but not in the last several decades. I decided it wasn’t worth running from trouble anymore.” Calaran smiled as he took his knife back from Croft and slid it into one of his boots. “I will be gone for a few hours. I’ll need a space cleared out by the fireplace tonight to perform. You might want to move a few more chairs into the common room as well and make sure Magda makes enough mutton for tonight. This will be one of the best nights of business since you opened.”
“Want to help me lug a barrel of beer up from the cellar?” Croft asked hopefully.
Calaran laughed. “No. I have to go into Black Oak and let them know that Calaran the bard will be performing at the Silver Sword Inn tonight!” He flourished his cloak and took a deep bow.
“Why here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why the Silver Sword? There are other inns in Black Oak and far more impressive inns less than thirty miles from here in Gen. So why a traveler’s inn on the outskirts of a small town?”
Calaran’s smile dropped for a second as he looked out the window. “I have a debt to pay.” He then turned and left the room.
Croft looked out the window after the elf left. He was positive that the bard had been looking at the old apple tree, but he had no idea why. Croft’s thoughts went to Mancorl. His grave sat behind the inn about a quarter of a mile away in a small poplar grove that was used as a graveyard for those without family plots in the main cemetery of Black Oak. Mancorl’s grave marker was made of white marble and had been anonymously sent to the town soon after his death. Croft was pretty sure he now knew who had sent it.
Croft couldn’t believe the changes that had happened to his staff in a mere morning. Granted, his entire staff was Magda and Cassie, but the young serving girl was whistling a tune as she gathered the chamber pots from the rooms. “As long as Magda doesn’t decide to dance on the tables tonight, I can handle these changes,” he muttered to himself as he went to get ready for lunch.
A few more farmers than normal were sitting in the inn by noon. Most of them had asked if it was true he had hired a bard to perform that evening, and a few asked if it was Calaran in particular. Croft remembered the several times he had seen the bard perform here at the Silver Sword as well as various other places. There was no doubt the bard was talented, and the amount of coin, both copper and silver, that had been tossed on stage had made him wish at the time that he could be Croft the bard and get paid to just tell stories and sing songs.
Even among other minstrels and bards, Calaran had a reputation for being a talented performer. He connected with crowds, whether they were commoners or nobles. The only ones he seemed to be put off by were adventurers. He knew them, and they knew him, but he never rubbed elbows with them or joined them in their drink.
Now that Croft thought about it, how did Calaran gather so many stories of adventurers when he never talked to them? That was a question he would have to ask the elf when he got some time.
Magda had made some lamb stew for lunch and had three large joints of mutton roasting in the oven, but if the crowds were to be as big as Calaran claimed, he wanted to have a few rabbits and chickens roasting as well. He went out front and found one of the farm boys waiting for his father to finish eating and gave him a copper to go find Lendin or one of the other young hunters and tell him that Croft needed some rabbits for dinner that night. He sent another of the boys off with a copper to go tell his mother that Croft needed four roaster chickens for the oven.
With that settled, he went in and got two of the farmers to help him pull a fresh keg of beer up from the cellar for the cost of a mug each. After his lunch guests left, he cleaned the tables and checked on the casks of beer that were fermenting in the cellar and rotated all of the bottles of wine.
Cassie had asked to go into town to shop during the afternoon lull, so he and Magda sat and swapped stories of Mancorl and Calaran. She knew the bard much better than he did and told Croft how many times and ways Calaran had helped Mancorl and her. She also talked of some of the inn’s old staff and how Calaran had seemed almost like part of the woodwork.
She had first met the elf when she was fourteen and hired to help the old cook, Opal, in the kitchen. Calaran had come in and introduced himself as she was preparing bread, and she had felt embarrassed that he had seen her covered in flour. She had thought he was the most handsome and most regal man ever, even if he was an elf. Her judgment was still the same as she lamented that she had grown old and gray and the bard looked the same earlier that morning as he had forty years ago when he had first met her.
Croft tried to ask her about the apple tree out back and whether there was a special attachment to Calaran, but the back door in the kitchen opened and Goodwife Humphries called to Magda to let her know she had brought some chickens. Magda simply told Croft that she had never asked about the apple tree and hurried off to the kitchen.
Croft thought about following her to ask more, but the sound of horses out front pulled him to his feet. A group of adventurers came in and wanted a room for the night and some beer to clear the road’s du
st from their throats. He settled them in and started pulling mugs of beer and bringing out leftover lunch for them to eat. He listened to them tell their most recent exploits and answered their questions about areas with ruins or places to explore nearby. They were especially pleased to hear that there was to be a bard that evening for entertainment.
By the time Croft had finished with them, he realized he still needed to get fresh candles cut and placed on their sticks and check with Magda to make sure she didn’t need anything else for the dinner crowd. When he went into the kitchen, Lendin was there talking with Magda while cleaning the rabbits he had brought in. She was going to roast two of them, and the other two were going into the meat pies that she made on occasion.
“So it’s true?” Lendin asked while pocketing the coins Croft gave him for the coneys. “A real bard is going to be performing tonight in the inn?”
“Yes Lendin, Calaran the bard will be performing after dinner starts tonight. Want to give me a hand moving some tables around?”
“Sure. What does Cassie think of him?” Lendin asked as he started to move chairs out of the way.
“Who?”
“The bard, does she get all moony eyed over him like she does with others?”
Croft knew the quiet young woodsman had feelings for his pretty young serving girl, but she was in that phase where young women want the dashing and daring, and relatively stupid, young men. Lendin was far too solid and grounded to be her type.
“She was taken with him, but not in that way. He’s an elf after all, and old enough to be everyone’s grandfather,” Croft laughed at his own joke.
Lendin stopped dragging the table he was laboring with and looked out the window of the inn. “How long do elves live, anyway?”
Croft shrugged. It was a question he had pondered many times himself, but it always seemed so impolite to ask an elf. “I’m not certain, but hundreds of years I know. How long precisely I couldn’t say.”