by Steven Drake
“Why Darien? Why wouldn’t he just ask Darien himself?”
“I don’t know,” Nia replied. “He said it was important to know where he was born, where he grew up, how old he is, things like that. It doesn’t seem very important to me. I think he was afraid to talk to Darien himself. I don’t really know why.”
“Well, maybe he has his reasons,” Jerris encouraged, taking the initiative to squeeze her hand. She seemed to tremble slightly before returning the gesture. “You just take my hand… oh, err, wait, no… my word.” Nia responded to this with a mischievous giggle, and Jerris blushed furiously. “What I meant to say was, take my word for it that Darien isn’t as bad as he seems. Maybe your grandfather realizes how important Darien is, so he wants to understand him, and know whether he can trust him or not. After all, it must be important if he wouldn’t trust anyone but you.”
“You’re probably right,” Nia answered. “Um… Jerris?”
“What?” Jerris leaned in eagerly, hearing the serious tone to her voice.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been very friendly so far. I didn’t want to come on this mission, and since you were the one that got me involved with this, I sort of… blamed you, but I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“Don’t worry, Nia.” Jerris mustered his confidence. “I’ll protect you.” The girl started to giggle, but quickly stifled herself, obviously not wanting to hurt his feelings. She still doesn’t take me seriously, Jerris sighed inwardly.
As the sky darkened, Jerris basked in the feeling of being close to the lovely Nia, and the subtle sensations of his fingers intertwined with hers. He could not remember feeling so drawn to someone as he felt drawn to Nia. It felt strange to be here, on the verge of unknown dangers, with a perilous path ahead, but with a new energy filling him up. Whatever else happened, Jerris felt that he had made the right choice. This was where he belonged, representing his people, following his mentor, and comforting Nia. Before the end, I’ll earn their respect, he told himself as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared over the western horizon.
Chapter 25: The Elves’ Prejudice
Darien stood with his back against a tree looking out toward where Jerris and Nia were still sitting hand in hand twenty or so yards outside the camp. Ceres sat a few feet away, grumbling and wringing her hands every so often. Finally, after several minutes, she suddenly got to her feet.
“Ceres, don’t,” Darien suddenly and sternly commanded. Ceres froze in place, then turned angrily towards the Shade.
“Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t stop the boy from falling in love with a… with a human girl? Don’t tell him to act like a crown prince instead of a love-struck child? Don’t warn him that his people will never accept a human queen?” Ceres hissed venomously at Darien.
“Don’t do anything. Just sit down Ceres. Now.” The tone in his voice warned the elf woman that this was not a discussion, so she sat down angrily on the grass. “Have you learned nothing from having your mind invaded on a daily basis? He doesn’t have to listen to you, and he resents your interference. If you want him acting like a royal, perhaps you ought to treat him as such.”
“I would think you, of all people, would disapprove of this,” Ceres grumbled.
“I don’t approve,” Darien calmly replied. “I’ve already warned him. He didn’t listen to me. Do you really think he’ll listen to you?” Ceres was silent, conceding the obvious, that Darien was correct on that point. “The young prince takes his responsibilities seriously. Everything he has done and said since he decided to come on this journey only confirms that. He’ll eventually realize that it’s impossible for him to be with this girl. This youthful infatuation will hurt, but it will pass.” In the long run, some kinds of pain were both necessary and good.
“You really don’t know much about elves do you?” Ceres rebuffed.
“What does that mean, and what does it have to do with this situation?”
“Love does not come as easily to us as to the younger races. Most elves will fall in love only once during their long lives. When we fall in love, something changes within us, permanently, irreversibly.”
“Jerris is half human. It may not be the same for him.”
“And yet, it may,” Ceres countered. “Do you want to take the chance? If he ends up falling for someone he can’t have, it will hurt him for the rest of his long life.”
“Fine Ceres. Talk to him tomorrow, for all the good it will do you,” Darien curtly replied. “If you tell him what you told me, it may give him pause. Or, you may only succeed in upsetting him and driving him further toward her. Remember that I warned you.”
“You won’t talk to him?”
“I already have. He would not listen. I can’t really blame him. I don’t understand love. I couldn’t give him any worthwhile advice beyond telling him to avoid it if possible.” Darien sighed. His most recent nightmare faded as quickly as the others. “I would be like a fish trying to give advice on flying to a baby bird. I’d just be guessing.”
“Of course you don’t understand,” Ceres scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “You have no heart to understand. You are empty inside, just like the magic you wield. Jerris practically worships you, and you have no idea how to advise him properly. If he keeps following you, he will end up just like you, a defiant, flippant, unbalanced rogue who has no loyalty to anything or anyone but himself.”
“Perhaps you’re right Ceres.” Darien shook his head and sighed, then clasped his hands behind his back. He looked sternly and gravely at Ceres. She paused, and a look of sudden uncertainty crossed her face. “I don’t want Jerris to end up like me. I would never wish that on him. That’s why I do not interfere. I can teach him magic, and I can teach him to fight, but that is the limit of my experience. Unlike me, Jerris needs friends. Try to be his friend instead of his bodyguard. He will need friends, after I’m gone.” Ceres confusion seemed to deepen as she opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out, so she nodded dumbly.
Darien watched the two young companions for about an hour, until they got up to head back to camp, when he disappeared quietly into the shadows. He wandered under the gently swaying willow trees beside the pond. He was lost in thought, when he heard soft footsteps behind him.
“Are you sure it’s wise to let your student become involved with Niarie? I think the elf woman has a point. You know almost nothing about her. Neither do I. Frankly she was not important enough for the inquisition to notice, yet the Archmage sent her on such an important quest.” A low voice called from the shadows on the other side of a slumping willow. Traiz had followed him, skillfully, to get this close.
“Niarie seems harmless enough.”
“Did you know she was instructed by the Archmage to gather information about you?”
“I did not.” That was disturbing news. The Grandmaster had expressed concern about Archmage Eldrik. There could be innocent explanations for those instructions, but it raised suspicion all the same. “Well, I will watch, but my instincts tell me the girl is no threat. I’ve learned to trust those instincts.”
“Are you sure your instincts are not compromised?” Traiz wrapped his hands behind his back and cocked his head to the side accusingly. “You seem to have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to that boy. If Jerris showed no interest in her, would you still be so dismissive? You don’t strike me as a sentimental man. What makes him so special?”
“Jerris is a friend. I suppose he’s like a younger brother to me. I trust his instincts in ways I do not trust my own. Don’t question my relationship with him again, unless you want to test my patience.” The Executioner kept a clear firmness in his voice. He could tolerate disagreement, but he was not prepared to let anyone push him away from trusting his student. “And you should think twice before eavesdropping again.”
“Forgive me, as an Inquisitor, information is my stock in trade. It’s something of a habit, one I should think you understand.” Traiz spoke with all the practice and poise
expected of his profession. The practiced liar had every intention of eavesdropping as much as he wanted if he believed he wouldn’t be caught. Nevertheless, the point was valid. The Shade understood well the value of secrets, and regularly practiced the skill of listening in on the conversations of others.
“Point taken. Now what do you want?.”
“We’re within two days march of Coldwater.” Traiz added. “Beyond that, we’ll be in the wilds. It will take about a fortnight to reach the Burning Lands, if we are blessed by Lord Eolus with fair weather. Then we have to deal with the dragons. You don’t really expect them to let us walk up and ask them where the sword is, do you?”
“No.” Darien acknowledged curtly.
“What do you plan to do?” Traiz asked. “Their main stronghold is called Ashpyre, but so far as I know, they don’t allow outsiders in their stronghold. Do you have any idea where it is? Do you have any kind of plan?”
“You know as well as I do that none of us knows exactly where we’re going. I hope to find a guide in Coldwater who can lead us to the Burning Lands. Beyond that, no, I don’t have much of a plan, beyond the obvious. We will have to find some way to convince the Ebonscale to reveal the location of the Star Sword,” Darien explained. “Dragons respect honesty, strength, and courage. They’re passionate, impulsive. They may refuse to speak to us, and try to kill us just for trespassing. On the other hand, they may grant an audience on a whim. They may agree with our cause, or require some sort of trial. Dragons are highly unpredictable.”
“I don’t much care for unpredictable.”
“Nor do I, Inquisitor, but that is the lot we have drawn.”
“Well, as always, you have my support. I will do whatever must be done for the success of this mission.”
Darien nodded his assent, and Traiz departed. At least the Inquisitor seemed to have his mind focused on the task at hand, even when no one else did. A gentle breeze blew the weeping limbs of the willow trees, rustling them against one another. Darien felt no desire for sleep that evening, and wandered the darkness in the light of the moons.
Chapter 26: Coldwater, the Frontier Town
The frontier town of Coldwater painted a bleak picture of life on the fringes of human civilization. Wooden, ramshackle buildings piled upon each other haphazardly, without any apparent order. Many leaned dangerously against a neighbor, threatening to topple an entire row of houses like dominoes. Others bent in the middle, tilting one direction at the top and quite another at the bottom. The mostly two-storied buildings subsisted in various states of disrepair. Most of them looked to have been hastily constructed, out of whatever was available, regardless of the appropriateness of that material. Thick black smoke poured out of many of the houses, and hung in the still air like a pall. It had an acrid, sulfuric smell. Whatever they were burning, it was clearly not wood.
The party rode into town, looking entirely out of place in their various garb. The shining plate and mail armor of the Golden Shield, polished and sparkling, warred with the dull, drab, dinginess of the town. Even Tobin in his dwarf black iron mail seemed horribly overdressed compared to the plain brown linens of the townsfolk. Only the Shade looked entirely comfortable and natural in this setting. His dark leather armor was functional, but inconspicuous, and the dark cloak he wore bore a striking resemblance to many others. Darien rode low in the saddle, hunched over, his form entirely obscured by his cloak. Years of living in secret had taught him how to avoid attracting attention. If only his companions had as much sense.
The townspeople gave the travelers a wide berth. Occasionally an errant child pointed at the party, only to be pulled quickly away by a more sensible parent. The town was remarkably quiet, but for the shuffling feet of passers-by, the low hum of quiet daily conversation, and the occasional baying of livestock or the bark of a dog. No one addressed the travelers as they made their way to the center of town.
“Well Traiz, do you know of any inns in this town?” Darien asked.
“The nicest, well the least dingy anyway, is the Hardmoney Hostel. If I remember right, it’s around the center of town. Follow me,” Traiz answered.
The travelers rode through the irregular, snaking streets towards their intended destination. The town got only slightly less shabby as they moved inwards. The buildings appeared less decrepit, and no longer leaned, but the townspeople seemed to take the increased stability as a reason to crowd the buildings together even more closely. Garbage and debris lay piled up in the streets, or in the dark, narrow alleys between the buildings, adding to the unpleasant odor.
Within perhaps a half hour, they had found their way to what was, apparently, the center of town. Traiz pointed out a large two story building, older looking than most of the others, and constructed of thick logs with some sort of yellow green mortar packed between. A sign marked the building as the inn they were seeking.
“Well, this is it,” Traiz remarked, and they set about the business of getting their horses stabled, and securing rooms. Once again, Darien stayed with Jerris in one room, with Traiz and Tobin in a second, the three Golden Shield knights in a third, and the ladies in the fourth. After everyone had settled, most of the group rested in their room, but not Darien.
The half-elf wasted no time inquiring where he might find a guide. He left the destination somewhat vague. There was no point in having the entire town know a party of Golden Shield knights and half-elves were trying to get to a place no one in their right mind visited. Too much chance of attracting the wrong sort of attention. Darien managed to get the names of a few local hunters from the innkeeper. He spent the remainder of the day following up on those leads. While many of them hunted the lands north of town, and into the Scoured Hills, none had gone as far as the Burning Lands, and though he asked as discreetly as possible, the question aroused unwanted looks of suspicion.
The night was well under way when Darien returned to the inn. The inn’s common room had mostly emptied, but Tobin still puffed away at his pipe in a corner booth. Tobin raised his eyes towards Darien, who took it as a sign he wanted to speak. Tobin had changed into his comfortable and scholarly looking robes, dark brown with black ruffs. He had a half empty mug of ale sitting in front of him, and by the time, Darien guessed that it was not the first.
“By the look, I’d say you didn’t have much luck finding a guide,” Tobin said.
“Nothing yet,” Darien confirmed. “We can afford to stay a few days and look. The innkeeper says hunters and trappers are moving through all the time.”
“Can’t say as I’m optimistic,” Tobin said gruffly. “Few enough venturing out this way, fewer still have dealings with dragons. I’ll wager we’re likelier than not to be going it alone.”
“We’ll see,” Darien said, trying to sound reasonably hopeful, but knowing Tobin was probably right.
“Not that I’m thrilled to tackle the Scouring Desert without so much as a whiff of a notion where we’re going, but if anyone can manage that, it would be you,” Tobin chuckled.
“You overestimate me Tobin,” Darien answered. “I’m capable enough, but even I have limits.”
“Yet you’ve come this far, eh?” Tobin scoffed. “Farther than I ever guessed.”
Darien raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “Farther than you guessed? I didn’t realize you had given me that much thought?” Darien had thought himself nothing more than a curiosity to the old dwarf, who cared more for lore and books than magic and war. Darien respected Tobin’s knowledge of history and languages. He found the man easy to speak to, an uncomplicated, logical mind like his own. Tobin was also the only connection to his old life as a Shade. Darien had met the old dwarf before stealing the Demon’s Blade.
“Hmmm…” Tobin raised his eyebrows, revealing a suddenly thoughtful expression. “Do you remember how we met?”
“Vaguely, you sold me that star stone, the one I used to steal the Demon Sword.”
“Hm, hm, hm,” the old dwarf chuckled, shaking his full white beard. “Never
found it just a bit too convenient that you happened to meet an old dwarf bookseller who just happened to have an extremely rare magic stone?”
“Well, yes, it was certainly fortunate that you knew so much about it, but why bring that up now?”
“Thought you might have figured it out by this point. Maybe you’re not as clever as he was, or your memory is so mixed up by that accursed blade that you’ve forgotten.”
“Tobin, who are you talking about?” Darien asked as the old dwarf chuckled and took a gulp of ale.
The old dwarf took a few moments to compose himself before he spoke again, then lifted his head and spoke, talking to himself as much as anyone. “He was always three moves ahead that one. Never could beat him in chess. Poor Kirin, you may have done awful things, but you still deserved a far better fate.” Kirin was one of the few people Darien remembered from his life before taking the Demon Sword. Kirin the Hollow Eyed had brought Darien into the Order of the Shade, but the flaxen-haired half-elf had been more than just a teacher, he had been young Darien’s sole caretaker for much of his childhood after his mother’s death. Tobin turned towards him again. “You really never figured it out? Yes, I knew Kirin,” the dwarf responded to the unasked question. “When he brought you into my house in Palama as a wee whelp, you were in a terrible state, just stared at the wall, with this blank, vacant look. That’s when we met, but I suppose you wouldn’t remember. You looked like you weren’t even there.”