Heather took a deep breath. A thought had occurred to her, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to follow through with it. After a moment, her mind was made up. “I’ll go.”
Jared’s head snapped up. “Go? Go where?”
Heather motioned towards the map. “To Molain and Natesh.”
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Jared said. He looked unsure.
His words made Heather bristle and she sucked in air. “Easy?” she repeated. “You forget who you’re talking to. I was at Mul-Dune and brought the troops back in time to save the fort. I have been in the Faerum Wastelands searching for the armor Nerandall. I went to Elem to search for Ocklamoor.” She thumped herself in the chest with a fist. “I’ve stood next to demons, so don’t speak to me of easy.”
Jared’s eyes had gone wide and he waved both hands in front of Heather. “My apologies. I spoke without thinking and I certainly meant no offense.”
The spymaster’s words cooled her anger and Heather nodded once. “Think no more of it,” she said simply. It still riled her, but it would be rude to not accept his apology.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I would rather fight a demon than negotiate with nobility.”
Heather nodded. “Yes, when do I leave?”
“Well,” Jared began slowly. “I still need to get the king to write several letters imploring the two kings for help.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt it will do much good, but we have to try.”
“Won’t do any good because they hate us?” Heather asked.
“Exactly. We can appeal to their own sense of survival. After the goblins are through with Telur, they could be next, but I doubt that’ll work. They’ll probably think Dalar or Ontaria will draw the goblin’s attention next. Regardless, sooner or later the goblins will come for Molain and Natesh.”
Heather shook her head. It simply made no sense; letting a kingdom be destroyed because they hated it, never mind the fact that they could be next.
She wasn’t one to believe much in divine inspiration, but the thought that occurred to her then was enough to make her reconsider. “Aren’t they followers of the Church of Adel?”
“Yes, but why?”
“Get the king to write those letters, but also get me two letters from Dalin Olliston.”
Jared looked confused. “The High Priest. Why?”
Heather smiled as she continued to think through her idea. “They won’t come to aid Telur if King Darion asks them to, but they might just come if The High Priest of the Church of Adel commands them to.”
Jared stared at her for a moment and then smiled. “They might indeed.”
Heather returned to the small room that she had been given and hastily packed her belongings and then she went in search of her fellow Guardians. Her search proved fruitless, however, as every one of her traveling companions was gone; all except Warren and Agminion. They sat in a small communal room shared by the Guardians and the other travelers.
Warren was the prince of the Faerum, a race long-believed extinct. There was something unusual about the man. He could sense sorcerers using their spirit, even though he wasn’t a sorcerer himself. Flare had sensed something different about the Fae as well. He was a quiet warrior, who had never given her any reason to doubt him.
Agminion was the Royal Sorcerer of the kingdom of Aramonia, or he had been anyway. King Stennis had ordered Agminion to help them escape. The king couldn’t be seen helping them, which is why Agminion had freed them and then went on the run with them.
“Warren, where are the others?” Heather asked.
Warren turned to look at her. His eyes were droopy and he looked bored. “Out,” he said simply. “They’re all out running errands for the king.”
“Even Holgar?” she asked, surprised.
Warren nodded. “He’s helping prepare the city walls.”
Heather’s spirits sank at the news. She hated to leave without saying goodbye to all her companions. Well, she didn’t much care that Dagan was gone. As far as she was concerned, he could leave and stay gone.
“What’s the matter?” Warren asked. He looked noticeably more alert now and was watching her intently.
Heather sighed. “Nothing, exactly. I’m going on a trip and I just wanted to say goodbye to everyone.”
“Going? Going where?” Warren asked.
“I’m to be the emissary to Molain and Natesh,” Heather replied. “I have to leave in less than an hour.”
“So soon?” Agminion asked. “Why not wait until the morning?”
“Every day and hour is precious,” Heather said. “There’s no time to waste.”
“Fool’s errand if you ask me,” Agminion said. “They’re more likely to arrest you than send any aid.”
Heather didn’t reply. She agreed with the sorcerer, but didn’t much like his depressing tone. Negativity wasn’t the way to send someone off on a dangerous mission.”
“Molain and Natesh?” Warren asked. “Where are they located?”
It was easy to forget that the Fae knew so little of the world. For so long, they had been kept secluded in the old Faerum Wastelands. “They’re to the east,” Heather said.
“The east?” Warren repeated, chewing his bottom lip.
Heather nodded distractedly. She was looking through her pack, checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything important. Jared was arranging for her horse and remounts, and the letters, of course. In addition, he was supposed to have two weeks of supplies waiting for her with the horse.
“I really wanted to say goodbye to everyone. Will you tell them for me?” she asked.
“Of course,” Agminion replied. He sounded as bored as Warren had looked earlier.
The sound of Warren’s chair scraping back on the stone floor hurt the ears and Heather winced.
Warren climbed to his feet and made to leave the room.
He could have at least said goodbye, Heather thought. “Goodbye Warren,” she called after him.
He paused in the opening to his room, looking back at her. “No need for goodbyes, I’m coming with you.”
Heather blinked stupidly for a moment. “What? What did you say?” she asked, but Warren had disappeared into his room. She hurried after and leaned her head in. “Thanks for the offer, but I can manage. There’s no need for another on this journey.”
Warren was shoving clothes and knives into a sack. “I didn’t say you needed me. I said I’m coming.”
“Why?”
The question pulled him up short. “This is not my home,” he said simply. “I do not wish to remain here simply waiting.”
Heather sighed, remembering earlier in the day when she had felt something similar. Finally, she shrugged. “Fine, hurry up, though.” She turned to leave.
“Wait!” Warren called. “Give me a moment.”
Heather turned back. “Be in the stable yard in half an hour. I have to arrange for another couple of horses and more supplies.”
Chapter 9
Derek awoke to the sound of the heavy wooden door being shoved open. He climbed groggily to his feet, rubbing his eyes as he did so.
Kara and Belgil also climbed unsteadily from their beds to face the newcomer. Dimac and two other guards led an old, wizened dwarf into the room. The aged dwarf was obviously in charge, and the others showed him extreme deference.
This old dwarf had silky white hair, and his skin hung loosely around his neck. Age spots covered his cheeks and forehead. There was a gleam in his eyes though that said his old age had not affected his mind.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Belgil demanded. “I was sent on an errand for the king, and I’m being treated like a prisoner upon my return.”
The old dwarf smiled. “Welcome home, Belgil. I’m afraid the king wishes you to remain here for a time.”
“And why is that?” Belgil asked. His tone was still defiant, but even Derek could see he was troubled at the king’s command.
“Unfortunately the king did not discu
ss his decision with me,” the old dwarf said.
“Emlin, you’re a liar,” Belgil said.
The three dwarven guards turned and started toward Belgil, but halted at a command from Emlin.
“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to the king’s counselor,” Emlin said in an oily tone.
Even Derek and Kara could tell the old dwarf was enjoying himself.
“You’re the king’s counselor?” Derek asked. “You sure don’t seem to know much of the king’s plans to be his counselor.”
Emlin turned his gaze upon Derek, and there was a fire in his eyes. “And who might you be, human?”
My name is Derek Aldanon, and I am a member of the Guardians,” Derek said. “I came here to warn your king of the coming war. If your king does not wish my advice, then let me go.”
“Hmph, your manners are no better than that insufferable Flare’s,” Emlin said. He glanced back toward Belgil. “And I was so looking forward to hearing you tell the king how you failed in your search for Ocklamoor.”
“Fool!” Kara burst out. “We found Ocklamoor.”
All four dwarves gasped.
“And where is it?” Emlin demanded.
“We found it in the human city of Elem,” Belgil said. “The human Prince Zalustus stole it and has it still.”
“Lies!” Emlin snapped. “Lies probably told to you by that bastard Flare.”
“Believe it or don’t,” Derek said, “I don’t care. Tell your king or not, I don’t care. But do not keep me locked in a cell.”
Emlin ignored this, and turned to go. The three dwarven guards slowly backed to the door. Emlin paused and looked back. “By the way, I think you might find this bit of news interesting. You are not the only emissaries sent to the king.”
“What’s that mean?” Belgil asked. “Who else was sent?”
“Another human,” Emlin said, smiling. “A man by the name of Anton, a servant of the Prince that you claimed stole Ocklamoor.” He turned, and chuckling, stepped through the door.
Kara’s hands flew to her mouth. She turned to stare at Derek as the heavy wooden door slammed shut.
Derek reached for her and hugged her, his strong hands comforting her as she shivered.
“You know this Anton?” Belgil asked, watching them intently.
“Yes, we met him,” Derek said, still hugging Kara. “The bastard tried to torture us to death.”
“Does this mean the dwarves are on Zalustus’s side?” Kara said, her eyes still wide with fear. “You don’t think they’d turn us over to Anton, do you?”
Derek shook his head. “I’m sure that won’t happen.” In truth, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think it would matter. The goblins were already streaming north, there was no information that they needed from Derek or Kara. The worst possibility was that they would be put to death, but he didn’t expect Anton’s men to torture them. There was no point.
“So what do we do?” Derek asked, looking at Belgil.
Belgil stared from Derek to Kara and back to Derek. “Do? What can we do?”
“Well, we can’t just sit here,” Derek said, sounding a bit angrier that he meant to. “We have to get away. The war is coming to Telur. We can’t just sit here while it happens.”
Belgil stared at Derek like he was soft in the head. “There’s no way out of here. If we escaped this room, we’d still have to get through the king’s guard and out one of the gates. That’s no easy task, I assure you.”
Kara pushed Derek away softly and turned to face the dwarf. “Doesn’t matter. We have to try. Derek’s right. We cannot just sit here.”
Belgil threw up his hands in frustration. Then he flopped down on the bed, and waved his hand at the door. “Be my guest. Wake me if you find a way out.”
Chapter 10
Servants woke them early the next morning, before the sun had even considered rising above the horizon. Atock and Enton had been given a small room on the keep’s second floor. It was true that they had to share a room, but at least they had separate beds. They didn’t complain, as Lord Steel’s men had spent the night in the guards’ barracks. Although the room was not luxurious, Atock guessed it was quite a bit nicer than the accommodations Lord Steel’s escorts had been given.
Atock and Enton left the small room yawning and stretching as they descended the stairs. The keep was dark with only an occasional torch to light the way.
Lord Steel was already waiting for them in the keep’s entryway. He grinned at the sleepy looks on the Guardian’s faces. “Is it too early for you? I thought you Guardians were supposed to be the best warriors.”
Atock was fairly certain that Lord Steel meant the words as a friendly jest, and did not take them personally. “Even the best warriors get sleepy.”
They exited the keep and emerged into the courtyard. The rest of Lord Steel’s men were already waiting. Sir Charles had loaned them new horses and taken their tired ones from the day before.
Atock and Enton thanked their host, and then quickly mounted their horses. Lord Steel did not thank Sir Charles, but as his liege lord, Sir Charles was only doing his duty to Lord Steel.
They were on the Southern road headed south as the sun came up. It was still early, but already the day had all the signs of being a hot one.
Once again Atock and Enton brought up the rear of the column. Lord Steel and his lieutenant road in the front of the group, with the rest of his riders strung out, and like yesterday, each man led a spare horse.
They made good time and did not stop until lunchtime. It seemed that every one of the riders, as they climbed down from their horse, immediately went in search of a bush.
They ate a quick meal and then all too soon were mounting their spare horses. Lord Steel set a fast pace, but they all understood what was at stake. They were now firmly in the midst of Lord Steel’s lands, and the activity of today was completely different from yesterday. Already the king’s commands to step up the harvest could be seen being put into action. Off to the east and west, the smoke from numerous fires was rising into the clear sky. Atock could only guess that it was the crops that would not be ready for harvest in time, that were being burnt.
Throughout the afternoon, they spotted more keeps and Manor houses like the one that belonged to Sir Charles. Lord Steel made a quick appearance at each one to speak to the knight or noble in charge. Lord Steel’s men, as well as Atock and Enton, made good use of these short but frequent breaks.
They followed the same pace for just over a week, until they reached the Castle of Baron Henry Wharton.
The barony of Wharton consisted of the southernmost part of Lord Steel’s lands, and ran along the Adelion River.
Baron Wharton’s castle stood on a hill overlooking the Southern road. The castle was roughly a day’s ride from the river, having been placed here because the hill gave such a wonderful view of the surrounding lands. A small village lay nestled at the bottom of the hill, between the hill and the Southern road. There wasn’t much to the village, it appeared to be just a collection of small houses for the peasants who tended the Baron’s fields.
“I’d have thought this would be a thriving town,” Enton said.
Atock jerked his head in a southerly direction. “There is a thriving town, but it’s located on the banks of the Adelion river.”
Enton looked to the south, but the town was still too far away to see.
Lord Steel led the riders up the winding road which led to the castle’s gates. It was late afternoon when they arrived, and the castle was bustling with activity.
Baron Wharton met them at the gate, having been alerted to their arrival when Lord Steel sent a rider ahead.
Henry Wharton was a middle-aged man who perhaps carried a little more weight through his middle than most of the other knights, but he still projected a deadly grace. His hair was sandy blond, real fine, and starting to recede. His neck and cheeks were pockmarked, getting him a rough appearance. He was a bit short, but muscular.
“
Welcome, my lord,” Baron Wharton said. He stood just outside the gate, with several of his knights.
Lord Steel dismounted from his horse and grasped Baron Wharton’s hand. “My dear Baron, I am so glad to see you.”
“And I you, sir.” Baron Wharton glanced around Lord Steel and did a quick count of the men. “Terrence here will find rooms for all your men. I just received word of your coming and the cook is hurrying to prepare something special for you.”
Lord Steel handed the reins of his horse over to one of the pages who stood just inside the gate. He turned and caught Atock’s eye. He jerked his head, indicating that Atock and Enton should join him.
Within moments, the pages led the horses away and Baron Wharton’s knights led the rest of the riders into the castle, leaving Baron Wharton, Lord Steel, Atock, and Enton.
Baron Wharton glanced at the two Guardians, obviously perplexed by their presence. “My lord, perhaps you would join me in my study? There are many things we need to discuss.”
Lord Steel nodded. “Yes there are, but these two must join us. This is Prince Del-Atock A’bamani, and this,” he motioned to Enton, “is Enton Dale.” He turned back to Baron Wharton. “These Guardians were sent by the king. You can speak in their presence.”
Baron Wharton look at Atock and then to Enton, shrugged, and nodded his head. “As you wish, my lord.” The Baron paused for a moment, apparently waiting to see if Lord Steel had any other instructions. When Lord Steel remained silent, Baron Wharton turned and led the way into the castle.
Sir Charles’s keep had been an oversized manor house, but Baron Wharton’s castle was worthy of the name.
The castle sat on a hill overlooking the southern road. In addition to the natural defenses that the high ground gave, ten foot walls surrounded the castle grounds along the top the hill. The walls were roughly in the shape of an octagon, and made of solid stone. At each corner of the walls, a large tower rose another story above the castle wall. A covered walkway ran the entire length of the wall, allowing defenders to move from tower to tower safely.
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