Stolen

by Adam Collins

  The smile slowly dropped from Brinn’s face. After a moment he spoke. ‘You're right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

  Brok nodded. ‘Ok, subject closed. Ortor informs me that the girls are no longer together. According to his source Princess Megan was taken to Shan-Tu by a Lord Alsheer. Lady Anabel to a town called Briar by a slaver called Grik.’

  ‘A-haa!' interrupted Balzimar. 'That’s why the seeker stone was flip-flopping all over the place. Of course. It makes sense now.’

  ‘What are you babbling about, old man?’ asked Brinn.

  ‘When we were trying to locate the ladies earlier, I assumed that they were still together. So I focused on finding the direction of both women at the same time. Which explains why the stone was going backwards and forwards. It’s because they were in opposite directions.’ Balzimar looked very pleased with himself. Then slowly his smile faded. ‘But on a more serious note. I know something of this…Alsheer. He’s a Darkspawn lord of renown and not to be trifled with.’

  ‘What do you know of him?’ asked Brok.

  ‘We have contested, in times past. He’s guile-some and treacherous, and a wielder of the dark arts. We’ll have to tread carefully.’

  ‘It just gets better and better doesn’t it,’ sneered Brok.

  Ortor came over to their table. ‘There’s trouble in town. A senior member of the council of slavers has been murdered. The town watch are combing the streets, turning out every inn, to find those responsible. Apparently they have witnesses. Quickly, follow me into the back room.’

  Just as they entered the back rooms the town-watch burst in through the front door. Ortor lead the three men to the back door and out into the stables where their mounts stood ready. ‘I took the liberty of having them saddled. Follow Brundel, he’ll get you out of town safely. I’ll deal with the town-watch and buy you some time.’

  Brundel was the stable-hand they had met earlier

  ‘Thank you, Ortor, the King will know of your part in helping us, if we ever get back,’ smiled Brok.

  ‘Never mind all of that…you just get those girls back to Jarro safely,’ Ortor gave a Jarro chest thump salute and returned to the inn.

  Brundel was a good guide. Brinn suspected it was not the first time, the stable-hand had been called upon to help those wishing to leave town unnoticed. They slipped down back alleys and side streets, and soon arrived at a small back gate. The guard was given two gold marks, and their way was cleared to leave. Brundel watched them briefly from the shadows of the gate. When he was satisfied they had safely escaped he returned to the inn. Inside the din was already starting to quiet as the town-watch settled in for a few free drinks compliments of the house.

  25. Lost Memories

  The inside of the carriage was illuminated by an ornately decorated brass oil lamp. The windows were completely blacked out so that Megan couldn't tell if it was day or night. Directly across from her sat Karem, and to his left Lord Alsheer. Megan had been drugged again. Her last memory was of laying on the bed just after Karem had left her room back in Ash. She sat up and yawned.

  ‘Ah, you are awake, Highness,’ smiled Karem.

  ‘Do you really have to keep doing that to me?’

  Karem was puzzled by the statement, ‘Pardon me, but…do what, Highness?’

  ‘Drug me. The last I remember I was having a bit of a stretch on my bed after eating a nice meal, and now this!’ she stretched her arms indicating the carriage.

  ‘Apologies, it will not happen again. You have my word. Besides we are almost at our destination and once there we can all relax a little bit more. There will be no further need for trickery.’

  ‘What is our destination?’

  ‘You can direct that question to Lord Alsheer when he has finished his meditation,’

  Alsheer was sitting perfectly still, his eyes closed tight. His skin looked even paler, and more sickly than normal, in the lamplight.

  ‘Why are the windows blacked out?’ asked Megan.

  Karem smiled, ‘Lord Alsheer suffers from a rare skin disorder and burns easily in direct sunlight. It is a family trait, passed down through the generations.’

  ‘How unfortunate. He could do with some colour, he looks ill.’

  ‘This trip has been both long and arduous. But there are excellent physicians where we are going.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good. How far is it to...what’s the name of the place? she smiled gently.

  Karem laughed, ‘Your tenacity is to be admired, Highness. But as I have stated before, you can address that question to Lord Alsheer personally. Just as--’

  ‘I know. Just as soon as he has finished his meditation,’ huffed Megan. ‘How long was I asleep, this time?’

  ‘Somewhere around twelve to fourteen hours.’

  ‘That long!’ Megan looked more than a little shocked.

  ‘It is a long and unpleasant journey, Highness. You have been saved many dull hours of monotonous travel.’

  ‘What about Anabel? What about the search? You promised!’

  ‘It has been conducted. The good news is that Lady Anabel is safe and in good spirits.’

  ‘She is! Oh thank the gods. I’ve prayed so much,’ Megan covered her face with her hands as relief swept over her.

  ‘She has being transported to Ash, and will join us at a later date.’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘Master slaver Grik, I believe.’

  ‘Not that…reprobate! Turn the carriage around, Karem! You can’t leave Anabel in his filthy hands!’ Megan leaned forward and grabbed Karem.

  ‘Her safety is assured, Highness. Lord Alsheer has seen to that. Lady Anabel will be not be harmed in any way. Grik has been made fully aware of the consequences of any, shall we say…transgressions…on his part.’

  ‘Do you really believe he can be trusted?’

  ‘No. But he is smart enough to know it would be unwise to cross Lord Alsheer. He knows full well that there is no hole deep enough, nor mountain high enough, to which he can run, that is beyond my masters reach. And besides it is in his interest to keep her safe. She is of great value to Grik. He will not risk losing his reward. Rest assured, Highness, your friend will not be harmed.’

  Megan sat back on her cushioned seat. She was not completely convinced but knew that the carriage would not be turned back no matter how much she protested. The interior of the carriage was lavishly decorated, and was similar in design to the carriage they had been ambushed in. Those memories came flooding back now. It felt so long ago. Almost another time altogether. She felt somewhat emotionally removed from the event. But that could have be a side effect of the drugs, she admitted. ‘Is it day or night? she finally asked

  ‘It is somewhere around mid-afternoon.’

  ‘When can we stop? I need to stretch my legs.’

  ‘We have many miles to travel before we will stop, Highness. Time is pressing and we are behind schedule.’

  Megan looked at the blackened windows feeling trapped. ‘Tell me about yourself then. It will help to pass the time and keep my mind off my legs,’ she smiled.

  ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘What did you do before the war?’

  ‘I was Lord Protector of Devaa.’

  ‘Devaa?’

  ‘It’s a city on the borders of the Myrrymas Desert.’

  ‘Is Devaa nice?’

  ‘Oh yes. I think it is beautiful. But very different to the green lands of Anvar and your homeland Jarro. Devaa is hot with an abundance of sand, but beautiful nonetheless.’

  ‘We have sand in Jarro, along the coast.’

  ‘No, Highness, it is a different kind of sand. It is produced by heat, not water.’

  ‘Oh I see.’

  ‘Do you have a wife in Devaa?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘How long is it since you were last home?’

  Karem’s smile faltered, ‘You know, to be honest, I haven’t thought about that for such a long time,’ he looked puzzled.<
br />
  Megan shrugged, ‘What's her name?’

  Karem looked at Megan strangely as if struggling with a memory that just would not come.

  ‘It’s funny…I can see her face...’ Karem’s brow was deeply furrowed.

  Alsheer leaned forward and stretched out an arm towards Megan. His black eyes boring into her soul. The world slipped away as she fell into darkness.

  26. Divide and Conquer

  The campsite was located in a clump of hawthorn a mile, or so, west of Ash. Its thick blanket of green leaves providing cover from unwelcome eyes on the much travelled road into town. Tam was standing guard and waved as they approached. Brok quickly scanned the area. It was a good site for a camp. A barely perceptible half-smile curled the ends of his lips on catching sight of the small stream that burbled and splashed across moss-covered stones no more than twenty paces from the circle of sleeping mats. Tam had chosen well. It was fast approaching midnight and the wind had picked up. Dark clouds rolled in angry procession across the sky and the air smelt of rain. A small fire crackled in the middle of a freshly excavated pit. The men gathered around and sat.

  Tam spoke first, ‘Find out anything interesting, sir?’

  ‘They’ve been separated. The Princess has been taken to a fortress further North by a Darkspawn called Alsheer,’ answered Brok.

  ‘And Lady Anabel?’ continued Tam.

  ‘West, to a town called Briar.’

  ‘So which one do we rescue first?’ asked Rat.

  ‘Both,’ answered Brok. ‘We’ll need to divide into two groups. I'll take Brinn and Balzimar with me and go after the Princess.’

  ‘And the three of us, the Lady Anabel,’ finished Tam, nodding his agreement.

  ‘Correct. Now I know this reduces our chances, but these orders come directly from the King.’

  So where exactly is this town then?’ asked Rat.

  Brok looked at the little man. ‘Just keep to the western road for a day or two, you can’t miss it.’

  Tam nodded again. ‘What are our orders when we get there, sir?’

  ‘Well that’s just it…there are none. This delightful twist has kicked us right where it hurts most. Just do the best you can to secure her release and get her back to Jarro. The details I leave to you. One thing more… If you succeed, she is to be conveyed directly to Jarro…clear? That means no attempt to rejoin with us. You get that poor girl home as quickly as you can. You're on your own from now on, but I know my men.’ Brok looked at the three men in turn, ‘There are none, I would send in your stead.’

  ‘We won’t let you down, sir,’ grinned Lom.

  Brok smiled and nodded, ‘According to our source, she's in the hands of a slave-boss called Grik. Now be careful dealing with this brute he has quite a reputation around these parts. Any questions?’

  ‘Why were they split up?’ asked Rat.

  ‘At this point we don’t know. It could be simply to make it harder for a successful rescue attempt. But whatever the reason, we’ll be trying to get them both out. Any more questions?’

  There was silence.

  ‘Ok get some sleep. Tam can I have a word in private?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  The two men walked off some distance into the darkness. The first drops of rain started to crackle amongst the dead leaves on the forest floor as a cold north-westerly bent bow and branch ‘neath its growing strength.

  ‘Have you any questions, Tam?’

  ‘No, sir, my orders are clear.’

  ‘Good. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I have little choice. Stealth is your only ally and best hope of success. Get in and out as quickly, and quietly, as possible.’

  ‘Yes, sir. We won’t let you down. This time next week we’ll be crossing the Benteers.’

  ‘I know I don’t have to tell you the importance of this mission, Tam. That poor girl is in the hands of the very worst kind possible. Her world has been turned upside down. I only hope we’re not too late.’

  ‘We’ll make it our business to ensure, we’re not,’ growled Tam.

  Brok smiled, ‘Good man!’ he slapped Tam’s shoulder. ‘Now let’s get some sleep.’

  The night was cold and wet and it passed slowly. In the morning the two groups went their separate ways, not knowing if they would ever see each other again. By midday the weather was getting worse, as Brinn and the others passed Ash, the town looked deserted. Even the sentries were huddled inside their watch towers seeking shelter from the late summer storm. A boon for the three men as they slipped by unnoticed.

  By late evening the worst seemed to have passed and the rain reduced to a persistent drizzle. After the claustrophobic closeness of the swamps the open plain, dotted here and there with clumps of isolated forest, was a welcome change. And by late evening they found sanctuary in just such a copse. Large knurl-trunked beech towered high overhead. They nestled in the roots of one particularly large tree and ate cold rations by a very small fire. The sun had only just gone down when they heard a rustle out in the darkness of the forest floor. Drawing weapons they patiently waited.

  ‘Ho in the camp! No need for alarm I’m alone! Your fire look’s invitin’ may I join ye?’ called a gruff voice.

  Brok stepped forward with bow in hand and arrow nocked. ‘Come out so we can get a look at you, but slowly, and no sudden movements!’ he ordered.

  A squat solid looking dwarf dragging a horse and a bundle laden mule appeared from behind the bole of a large tree a few paces off. He came forward holding up his free arm in supplication, ‘Easy now big fellow, no need for alarm, I be friendly enough,’ he smiled. ‘Good-night to ye. Nice to see you again, master ghost, I was beginnin’ to think, I would never catch you up.’

  Brinn recognised the rough features of the drunken dwarf, he'd saved in Ash. ‘And a good-night to you. What brings you this way?’

  The dwarf tied his horse and mule to a large fallen branch that was lying near the Pathfinder's horses, walked over and sat by the fire. The others joined him after they were satisfied that he was truly alone.

  ‘Well now you see, you didn’t really give me a chance to thank you last night. So I felt duty bound to find you and give you my thanks proper like.’

  ‘You came all this way just to say thank you? Brinn frowned.

  ‘That, and offer this,’ he stood and extended his arm.

  Brinn instinctively clasped it.

  ‘I owe you a life debt. So my sword arm is yours till the debt's paid,’ he shook Brinn’s arm vigorously and sat back down.

  Brok looked perturbed but Balzimar just smiled and said nothing.

  ‘And what if I say that we are even and there is no debt to pay?’ asked Brinn.

  ‘Wouldn’t life be a lot easier if things were that simple. But, alas, ‘tis not for you to say, lad. ‘Tis for me to decide when honour's been satisfied,’ he grinned broadly up into Brinn’s face.

  ‘I sense no deception,’ interjected Balzimar.

  The dwarf grinned and patted Balzimar's leg, while nodding in agreement, ‘You see, lad, my purpose is true. Now will I be ridin’ with ye, or a league behind? Either way I’ll be within earshot in the event a chance offers for a settlin’ of the balance,’ his smile was infectious.

  ‘You don’t know our purpose. You could be put in harm’s way,’ cautioned Brok.

  ‘Whatever the purpose ‘tis of no import. By the laws of honour, your purpose is now mine as well, don't you see. Short of conspirin’ with the Dark-League of course. I have to think of my place in the afterlife after all,' he laughed. 'Roasting over a spit for all eternity's a good deterrent there,’ he laughed louder.

  Brinn looked at Brok and shrugged, ‘Welcome to the group. By what name do you go?’

  ‘Well as I said last night, ‘tis Helfwen. Helfwen of Timberland. You’d have heard it if you’d stuck around a little longer back in Ash,’ he grinned.

  ‘Then we bid you welcome, Helfwen of Timberland,’ Brok sneered aggressively and flashed an angry look at B
rinn before regaining his composure. Brok’s sarcastic tone was lost on the dwarf, who sat grinning from ear to ear quite oblivious to the none-too-subtle jibe.

  ‘Welcome indeed Helfwen,’ added Balzimar.

  Again the dwarf grinned and nodded in approval. ‘Now then,’ he wagged a stumpy finger in the air, ‘shall we celebrate the accord with a few drops?’

  Brok simply shook his head in exasperation.

  Helfwen spent a few hours telling of his adventures in the West. How he had made and lost a fortune twice over. Of his time up in the frigid North and the strange fierce people he had met there. But now he was on his way back home to the forests of Timberland. Back to his family, and a chance to claim what was rightfully his. The crown of the Timberland Dwarves.

  ‘You’re a king?’ Brok looked unconvinced.

  ‘Strictly speakin’,’ nodded Helfwen, ‘I was first in line, but my uncle usurped the throne at my father’s death. I was only a lad at the time and no match for a battle-hardened warrior.’

  ‘What happened? asked Balzimar.

  ‘I was banished to the wilderness. He wanted me dead, but my grandmother stepped to my defense. They settled on exile for life.’

  ‘How long is it since you’ve been home?’ asked Brok.

  ‘Near enough twenty year at a guess.’

  ‘I can’t see your uncle being all that happy at your reunion. What happens when you finally turn up?’ asked Brinn.

  ‘No he won’t. 'Specially not after I stake my claim. It’ll mean death for one of us. First off, there'll be a gatherin’ of the council to decide the legitimacy of my claim. But that’s a formality, considerin’ they all know who I am.’

  ‘Then what?’ asked Brinn.

  Helfwen grinned. ‘A Baelram! A fight to the death! Winner takes the crown!’ Helfwen laughed and drummed his thighs in excitement.

  ‘You welcome this?’ asked Balzimar.