The Return of Cathos (Tales of the Silver Sword Inn, Complete Collection One)

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The Return of Cathos (Tales of the Silver Sword Inn, Complete Collection One) Page 12

by Wilson Harp


  The evening wore on as the party made its way up the steep banks and across the sharp traverses of the mountains. The sun slid behind the mountain by early evening, throwing the party into darkness and making further travel dangerous in the unfamiliar terrain. Ermine pointed out a good outcropping of rock with a large enough overhang to shelter them for the night. The adventurers did a quick check of the area for animal tracks or signs of any dangerous creatures before they took out the blankets and tarps that would break the steady wind that whipped around them. The air was chilly this far up the mountains though the day had started warm at the mouth of the pass.

  Namos was the first to notice the stars popping out in the east, and he stood studying them to see if he could see how far north they were. He had learned from some sailors that certain constellations moved in relation to each other based upon how far north or south a person traveled. That kind of knowledge fascinated the wizard, and he tried to remember all that he had learned.

  “What are you doing Namos?” Ermine said as she came to stand beside her lover.

  “See the Sword Star? It is just a little below the line of the mantle of Sisas. But if you go south to Antralis, it is perfectly in line. Sailors can use the stars to tell how far north or south they are on the Seas. I just like looking at them and seeing how they look different depending on where you travel.”

  “I just like looking at the stars sometimes,” she responded as she took hold of his arm and leaned into him.

  Baldric came out of the shelter area and looked at the couple. “Will you be wanting the mutton or the bacon tonight?”

  “I think the mutton,” answered Ermine.

  “Baldric, come out here and show me the dwarven constellations, if you don’t mind. I’ve never thought to ask you before, but the sky is so clear and beautiful up here,” Namos said.

  “Stars, eh? Maybe I need to fill you in a little on the rich culture and history of dwarves. We tend not to see stars unless we get smacked on the head a bit too hard. Living underground we look up and see rock.”

  “I have talked with dwarven sages. I know that they observe the stars to set their days.”

  “Maybe so, but I never talked to dwarven sages, and those who live at the top of the mountains…” Baldric stopped speaking as he pointed up towards the rise of the mountain. His eyes narrowed and focused on something above them.

  “What is it, Baldric?” Ermine asked.

  “I thought I saw a flicker of flame up there,” said the dwarf staring at a dark angle of the mountain side.

  All three of them looked up and watched. A small flash of orange light lit up a spot not too far above them for just a split second.

  “It is a fire. There must be a cave up there,” said Namos.

  Ermine rushed over to the shelter. “Martel, there is a cave nearby. Come out and see.”

  Martel came out from behind the canvas blind that had been set up and looked to where they were pointing. Within a few minutes the flickering became consistent, and a warm glow of fire was evident from a cave entrance just a short climb up from their camp site.

  “Tonight or tomorrow?” Martel asked Ermine.

  “Tonight. Whoever, or whatever, is up there is not expecting company. And since we haven’t lit a fire down here yet, we can approach without discovery.”

  “Wait, are you suggesting we go up there? It could be orcs, or goblins, or even giants,” said Namos.

  “That’s true, it could be giants. That settles it in my mind, let’s go get them. Giants usually have a good amount of gold on them,” said Baldric.

  “The idea of giants was to put a damper on everyone’s enthusiasm, not spark more interest,” muttered Namos as the other three adventurers started getting themselves ready. Shields were readied and weapons doubled checked in their sheaths. Baldric took the lead, as he could see clearly in the dim starlight. He found a small trail that led directly to the cave and pulled back to speak with the others.

  “That’s the cave, and there is something moving around in there. Something big. By the smell, it’s not giants, it’s something nastier and smaller. Maybe trolls.”

  “Not trolls, they are afraid of fire. Most likely ogres if they were big,” said Ermine.

  “Good work Baldric, but Ermine’s right. Probably ogres,” said Martel as he and Ermine dropped their satchels. Namos loosened the pouches on his waist that held the powders and materials he used for his magic.

  Baldric smiled and pulled his warhammer from his belt. “Let’s go kill some ogres then.”

  Martel nodded and started down the trail in the lead position with Namos, Ermine and Baldric following.

  The smell from the cave was pungent and strong as the adventurers crept towards the light. Namos motioned them to stop and took a small pinch of dust out from a pouch. He sprinkled it over himself and disappeared. Martel watched the loose rocks and dirt in front of the mouth of the cave and saw where Namos carefully placed his feet as he entered. He looked back at Ermine and smirked. She smiled back at him and looked back at the cave entrance. Martel knew that Namos could handle himself, but he also knew that Ermine would be nervous for her partner.

  Ermine and Martel had fought hundreds of times together; they knew each other’s patterns and cries. They had practiced in the yard fighting back to back until it was a natural way to fight. But throw a new person in the mix and you sometimes got crossed signals and tripped over each other. Martel hoped that Namos would trust Ermine and she would trust Namos.

  He was still watching the cave entrance when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Ogres, three of them. They are pretty active. Roasting a couple of mountain goats in there,” whispered Namos in his ear.

  Martel watched as the invisible Namos told Ermine and Baldric what he had seen. Baldric was smiling broadly as he listened and nodded to Martel. Three ogres would be a fight, that was certain, but they would be taken by surprise and that gave the advantage to the adventurers.

  Martel motioned them forward and started towards the cave entrance. As he came closer, he could hear the guttural language of the ogres as they spoke to each other. He felt Namos slip past him as he reached the edge of the light. Namos apparently wanted to get into the cave before the fighting started. A wizard ready to cast spells from behind his enemies made Martel feel a little more confident of Namos’ tactical mind and a whole lot better about the upcoming fight.

  He looked back, and Ermine already had her sword drawn and her shield held high for a charge. Baldric’s warhammer and shield were ready, and the hungry look on his face made him appear as if he were about to attack a beer monster rather than three ogres.

  Martel tightened the grip on his shield and held the sword loosely in his hand as he stepped into the light from the cave. The fire was low and smoky in the center of the long cave. The ceiling of the cave was a good fifteen feet tall, but the only thing on Martel’s mind was how he was going to not draw attention to himself as he felt his boot slide out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud, and his shield popped out of his hand. Two of the ogres were heading towards him by the time he could look up.

  Standing close to nine feet tall and as wide as a yoke of oxen, ogres were dangerous opponents even when you didn’t give them the advantage of falling flat on your face while trying to take them by surprise. Martel scrambled to get to his knees as the one closest to him took a couple of fast strides and lifted his club.

  Martel waited until the monster had committed his swing and threw himself back towards his companions still hiding in the shadows. The iron studded club shook the ground as it slammed into the place where the canny warrior had just been. Martel landed on his back and watched as Ermine calmly skewered the ogre’s left eye as it turned its head to find where Martel had escaped.

  The ogre roared in pain and swung its club wildly. Ermine jumped across the light and braced the edge of her shield against the stone wall on the far side of the entrance. The second ogre saw her run by and
flicked his club in her direction. The blow would have knocked her off the mountain if she had not known how to set her shield. As the blow landed she let go, and the ogre was stunned as her shield flipped up in the air right at his face. Ermine gripped her sword with both hands as she slid on her knees right to the feet of the ogre and stabbed up into his groin. She rolled away as he dropped his club in pain and fell to one knee.

  Baldric was not idle while Ermine leaped into action. He was methodical with the half-blinded ogre that he faced. He crushed one of its toes with his warhammer and then set about delivering blows to its knees, elbows and face. Martel gained his footing again and raced to the entrance. Ermine had started slashing at the back of the second ogre, but Martel was worried about Namos and the third beast.

  The ogre in front of him was trying to stand and swat at Ermine at the same time. Martel rolled under the flailing arms of the huge creature and into the cave itself. On the far side of the fire he saw an ogre held fast by various strands of white filaments wrapped around him like a cocoon. The ogre was glaring and roaring at Namos who was starting another incantation. Martel rushed over to the monster but was too slow as it burst its bonds and threw its club at the wizard.

  Martel held his breath as the ogre’s club smashed directly into Namos. He started to roar in vengeance, but blinked in the same unbelieving way as the ogre when the club went through the image of Namos and crashed into the wall. The image of Namos flashed and disappeared in the same moment, and Martel could see the wizard standing as far back as he could in the cave. Unfortunately the ogre saw him as well and grabbed Namos with his now empty hand.

  Martel shouted at the monster and started slashing at its legs. The ogre had Namos by the left arm and started swinging him like a club at Martel. Several seconds of this ridiculous situation went by before Martel heard the booming voice of Baldric shouting a dwarven battle cry. The ogre paused at the sound and looked over at the entrance to the cave. Martel used the distraction to attempt to slice the ogre’s hamstring, but the monster staggered back causing his slash to go wide. A bloody warhammer hit the ground on one side of Martel and Namos hit the ground on the other.

  Martel looked back to where the warhammer had come from just as Baldric leaped over the goats roasting on the fire and hurled himself into the ogre’s chest. The ogre’s big arms grabbed the dwarf as it was hit square in the chest with an angry, armored, weaponless Baldric. Martel slashed across the back of both of the ogre’s knees, and it fell face first into the cave floor. Diving on its back, Martel reversed the grip on his sword and drove it straight up the ogre’s spine and into base of his neck. The blade sank deep into the beast’s brain, and it stopped moving completely.

  Martel glanced about to see what the situation looked like. Ermine was sitting on the back of an ogre, her sword still in its neck. She looked back at him and nodded. There was no motion or noise from the front of the cave.

  “Is anyone injured?” asked Namos as he pulled himself up.

  “I’m good,” said Martel. “Baldric, how are you?”

  “Have an ogre laying on me, but I’m fine. Just a bit winded is all.”

  Ermine stood and braced her foot on the ogre’s head. She jerked her sword free and examined the edge looking for any damage.

  Namos stood and stretched his left arm and winced. “At least it’s not broken. But remind me never to be thrown around by an ogre again.”

  Martel pushed the ogre over onto his side and helped Baldric to his feet. Baldric went and picked up his warhammer and started trying to clean it. Martel wiped his sword off on a piece of cloth he found lying on the floor and then sheathed his blade.

  “The blinded ogre?” Martel asked Baldric as the group started looking around the cave.

  “He took a tumble down the side of the mountain along with my shield. I’ll get it in the morning if we can find it.”

  “Are you sure he was dead?”

  “Pretty sure, his skull was crushed in good,” Baldric said looking at his warhammer carefully.

  “We can stay in here tonight. I’ll go down and get the rest of our gear,” said Ermine as she examined the cave. “The ogres were kind enough to start dinner, and you boys were smart enough not to mess it up. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Namos nodded at his capable companion and moved over to where Martel and Baldric were. “She is really quite talented with that sword, isn’t she?”

  “That’s why we like her around Namos; she is very good,” Martel confirmed.

  “Did you actually bite that ogre in the face?” Namos asked Baldric.

  Baldric shrugged at the question. “My warhammer was gone and his face was next to mine. If I hadn’t bit him, he would have thought of it himself in another second or two. Taste awful though, can’t wait to eat some of that goat to get the flavor of ogre out of my mouth.”

  “Let’s move these bodies out of the cave. Ogres aren’t known for hygiene, and the smell is bad enough already,” Martel said.

  Namos tried to move the ogres, but the best he could do was kick at them, as his ribs were bruised almost as badly as his left arm. Baldric ended up rolling both of the dead ogres over the precipice that he had sent the half-blinded monster over during the fight. Martel had Namos stripped to the waist and was applying some salves and binding the wizard’s ribs when Ermine came back with the rest of their gear.

  “I’ll take over Martel. Why don’t you see to the goats, and I can tell Baldric wants to loot the ogre den pretty badly.”

  Baldric smiled at her permission and started going through the refuse and belongings of the ogres. By the time Martel had pulled the goats off the spits and had removed the burnt hair to carve off some meat, Baldric already had a nice pile of treasure building up. When the rest of the party was sitting down to eat, Baldric came back to them with an object cradled in his hands.

  “Look at this,” he said. “It’s perfect—exactly what we were looking for.”

  Martel carefully took the item from the excited dwarf. It was a small urn, well-crafted but cracked. The same dwarven writing that was on the clay disc that Baldric had secured in his pack was covering the small clay jar.

  “I think this is very important, Baldric.”

  “It’s more than just the jar, Martel. There is a collapsed portion of the cave back there; I found the urn in the rubble. The cave-in is centuries old.”

  Ermine nodded as Martel handed the jar to her. “We will need to come back with digging gear and maybe hire a few dwarven excavators.”

  “I hate to let anyone else know where this cave is, but I fear you are right,” said Baldric.

  “Where will we find them? Breach Hold?” asked Namos.

  “Yeah, Breach Hold is at the other end of the High Pass. Even with your bruises, we should be able to walk it in three days tops,” Baldric said as he sat and took a bite of the roast goat. “This isn’t bad, Martel. We should have mountain goat more often.”

  “I’m sure we will, Baldric. After all, we have a dwarven kingdom to find in these mountains.”

  Mirari

  The lunch crowd was at its height as Croft made his way through the tables. “Here is your wine, Orias,” he said as he set the two glasses down. “Are you sure you don’t want any lunch.”

  The wizard of Black Oak looked up at the innkeeper. “I’m good, Croft, maybe in a short while.”

  Croft nodded and turned to the young woman sitting with him. “Miss?”

  She turned her large green eyes to him and considered him for a second. “No, innkeeper, I will get the attention of you or your girl should I change my mind. Now we want privacy.”

  Croft left the table with a tight smile on his face. He didn’t like being treated as an intrusive element in his own inn.

  Orias waited until Croft was a few tables away before he spoke the simple incantation that muted out the sound coming from his table.

  “I trust the reason I am here is not trivial,” he said looking at the woman across fro
m him. When he had first seen her, Orias had thought she was a mere youth, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. But after speaking with her a few minutes, he would put her age at twenty, maybe a couple of years older. Her eyes told of unlived years as she met his gaze without wavering. Many men with grey in their beards flinched when the wizard turned his eyes on them, but if anything she seemed more confident that he did.

  “I am here because of Heran ib’Lutrah,” she replied.

  Orias bristled. The message had said that there was information concerning him that he must see, but he never expected Heran to try to contact him. “Young miss, I haven’t spoken to Heran for over twenty-five years, and I do not intend to reacquaint myself with him. If this is what you are intending, you have wasted both of our days.”

  “I am Mirari ib’Lutrah. Heran is my father. I did not know that there was bad blood between you, or I might have reconsidered asking to meet with you.” She took a canvas wrapped package from the satchel at her feet. “This was sent to me in Antralis where I have lived since I was a young girl. My father sent me to live with his brother’s family after my mother died. I have not heard from my father for fifteen years, and suddenly this arrived three weeks ago.”

  Orias hesitated before opening the package. Inside were at least a dozen journals, old and well-worn. He looked at Mirari, and she motioned him to open one of them. Inside was writing from a steady but fine pen. It was written in some code, Orias was sure, but not one he could easily identify.

  “These are your father’s journals?” Orias asked as he wrapped them back up in the canvas cloth.

  “No, they are my mother’s. I don’t know why my father sent them to me. I came to Gen to ask him.”

  “Your mother’s journals? Who is your mother?”

  “Her name was Alinor. She died when I was a small child.”

  Her eyes seemed to soften as she spoke of her mother, but Orias felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. He gripped the arms of his chair and the blood drained from his face. “Alinor married Heran?”

 

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