by Geno Allen
“We have never seen silver Hunterbeasts, only the black, and many of my men have lost their lives to creatures such as they.”
Zam chose his words carefully. “My friend and I have nearly lost our lives to that kind as well. The Silver Farrix are masters of their kind, but they have been absent for many generations. They are newly returned to Dar– the Dark Wood, and they are friends to humankind.”
Guardian Neereth bristled at those words. “No creature of that nature can be a friend, Boy!” She turned toward the woods and called to the ruddy faced one. “Daze, put them in shackles and bring them to the keep.”
Zam was suddenly afraid. Not for himself, but for Raine, and then suddenly for Griss. He recalled his reflections in Seven Mirrors. This was the moment in which he had abandoned Griss to die. Fear needled him. Cowardice attempted to overthrow him, but courage quickly claimed victory. “Guardian Neereth!” he called as she made her way back to the woods. “That is not the full answer to your question!”
“As I knew.” She turned to him again. “Do continue.”
Zam gathered himself to speak, but Griss entered the conversation. “Guardian Neereth, we traveled through Darlandis because it was the only way to aid a friend. Coming from Zam’s home he would have been trapped upon the Heights in the dead of winter. I led him through Darlandis to make up that time. And he speaks true of the Farrix. Those with which we kept company are friendly.”
Zam continued the thought. “We did not expect that their kind could be. We have faced many dark creatures in our travels, from Farrix—or… Hunterbeasts—that were evil, to dragons, Grimmals, even Seritheen.”
Griss cringed at Zam's last comment for somehow he knew it would cause the guardian to bristle. And it did.
Her voice rose slightly and was solidly cold. “I am a friend of the Seritheen, and now I know you to be a liar, for you would not have faced a Seritheen and lived unless you were befriended of them as well. And their friends would not speak of them thusly. They are not dark creatures.”
Zam stammered, trying to find a response. “Be–befriending Seritheen?” That can't be possible! They seek the harm of all. Don’t they? Was it not they who turned the hearts of man’s guardians against them in ancient days?
Tara drew her horse closer to the strangers, looking down on them. “Did you not wonder how we discovered you in this place, so far from traveled roads? And how we knew you had made company with the Hunterbeasts? It was my Seritheen counselor. He informed me, and he led me to you.”
The thought made Zam’s gut churn.
“It was clever to exit the wood amid the only gap in our watch, but you did not think of the unseen watch, the unseen eyes.” She paused in her smug tirade, and looked at Zam a different way, as if suddenly understanding something of great interest. “You, Boy... you heard his warning.” She paused and looked him over. “That intrigues me. I know few who hear the Seritheen’s voice.”
A foul crawling feeling crept over Zam as if something else were there with them in the clearing. He could not hold back his response. “The warning I heard was more like a threat. The Seritheen are not friends to mankind! They seek our destruction!”
He and Tara locked eyes for a long moment. “Boy… you are stronger than you look. As am I.” She glanced at her soldiers. “Shackle them and bring them to the keep. Be sure they’re kept alive, Daze.” She looked hard at the ruddy soldier, “Especially the young one.” She then turned again to Zam. “Be glad my counselor suggested I bring the shackles we use for grimmals, or we would have had to kill your friend. Ordinary shackles would have been far too small, and I am sure a simple rope would not have held him.” With that she turned and rode off at speed into the wood, leaving her soldiers to bring the prisoners along.
Zam looked the soldiers over and was sure that he and Griss could take them. As the soldier named Daze dismounted and approached with shackles in hand, Zam waited, trying to seem defeated. When he was close enough, Zam kicked him, dropping him to the ground, and drew his sword. Corben let loose a bolt and Griss turned abruptly from its path. With a thudding sound it found its mark in his pack rather than his flesh.
Before Corben could load another bolt, Zam was upon him, knocking him from his horse to the ground. The soldier was stronger than Zam, but Zam was feeling fiercer than he could ever recall. Zam smashed him with the pommel of his sword, not wanting to kill him, but certainly incapacitate him.
“Drop your sword!”
To Zam’s astonishment, Griss was holding Daze in a firm grip with a sword to his throat. “Zam! Drop your sword!” It was a confusing sight, Griss was holding the soldier but demanding that Zam stop fighting. “Guardian Corben! You as well! Stop the fight, or I will kill your comrade!” He looked again at Zam. “This is not the way to help your friend. If we are to travel in their realm we must abide by their laws. Now drop your sword.”
Bewildered, Zam did as Griss commanded. He stood looking down at guardian Corben and offered his hand to help the soldier up.
Corben shook his head in amazement and accepted Zam’s help. “You’re quite the fighter, Boy, but your large friend there has more wisdom.” He locked Zam’s hands in shackles and picked up his sword.
Once Zam was shackled, Griss too dropped his sword. “Guardians Corben and Daze, we are in your custody.”
Daze fit the larger shackles to Griss’ wrists. “Corben’s right. You are a smart one.” He turned toward Zam. “But, you... Corben’s too much a gentleman for this.” He took the pommel of his sword and smashed it against the side of Zam's head.
Zam dropped to the ground, and as Daze shouted at Griss to pick him up, and Corben shouted at Daze for his action, all color and light—the world itself in fact—went black.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A MEETING OF MINDS
Zam woke to cold rain beating down upon him as he was jostled this way and that. The fog in his mind began to clear and he realized he’d been slung over Griss’ shoulder. As awareness dawned he saw they were passing through the gate of the keep: Valkiliar, his goal for the last few months, or very nearly his goal. The sun had set and it was intolerably cold, with chill winds blowing and a fierce rain falling, blurring the surroundings, save those things nearest to him. Griss was still shackled, and a rope ran from Daze’s saddle to the shackles.
“Griss,” Zam said quietly. “You may put me down.” He was sorry his friend had to carry him so far.
Griss responded in a whisper. “Make as though you are still unconscious. Though Corben was displeased with Daze for striking you, Daze does not seem moved by Corben’s displeasure. He might strike you again, and I would rather you have your wits when we are inside.”
So, Griss carried his seemingly unconscious friend through the gates and into a courtyard, where the horses were taken and led to the stable. A large door opened before them. The keep was more rustic than Zam would have expected for a royal outpost. In no way did it compare with what Vandaris must have been in its heyday.
They were led through a series of halls, up a winding stair, down another hall, and into an iron cell with no other occupants and only one barred window looking out toward Darlandis. Several other soldiers, all of them guardians of Valkiliar, had joined Corben and Daze.
One of them—who was larger than the others, but still smaller than Griss—entered the cell and barked orders. “Lay the other prisoner down, and stand against that wall if you wish to keep breathing.”
Zam continued the unconscious act until he and Griss had been chained to the wall of the cell. As he feigned coming to, he saw the soldier had run a chain from the wall through both of their shackles and fastened it to a solid steel ring mounted into the wall.
As the other soldiers returned to their duties, Corben remained just outside the cell. He looked straight at Zam. “A fine act, Boy. You should perform in a minstrel show. I believe you saved yourself a thrashing by your act. Daze is neither the smartest nor most noble among our guard, but he has his uses. For my part, though I
did not appreciate our tussle, he should not have struck you after you were shackled. My apologies.”
Zam would not have expected Corben to be such a gentleman soldier. “For my part, I am sorry I attacked you. My time runs short to help my friend, and I fear my impulsive actions have cut it shorter, if indeed I will yet have a chance to save her.”
Corben sensed the sincerity of Zam’s words. “Her?” He smirked a bit. “Of course it would be for a girl that a young man would brave the dark wood.” Corben’s soldierly demeanor shifted to something more casual. “Tell me of the girl.”
Zam thought about it before responding. As long as I keep her name secret.... “She is the granddaughter of a dear friend of mine. She is to be sold as a slave when the Coriaerans return to the market. I have brought valuables sufficient enough to buy her freedom.” Just then a thought struck him. When he awoke hefted over Griss' shoulder, his pack was gone as was Griss’ and he hadn't seen them since. Fear gripped his heart. Even if he could get to the market, how would he save her without the jewels? “Our packs! Guardian Corben, what will become of our belongings?”
A look crossed Corben’s face that could have been read as curiosity, or perhaps even greed. It quickly faded as he spoke with no sign of either. “I am the one assigned to examine and distribute your belongings. Guardian Neereth will expect me to report on what you have carried into the land of her governance. Daze has been ordered to place your packs in my chambers. Although Daze does not always obey me outside these walls, within there are many soldiers who will forcefully remind him of his rank and duty. Your belongings are safe in my care.”
This didn't bring Zam much comfort, but he kept the thought to himself.
Corben looked at him. “So about the girl?”
Zam tried not to think about what would happen if the jewels disappeared. “She was taken in exchange for taxes. We received word that she was to be sold in the slave market east of Valkiliar when the Coriaerans came to market.”
Corben looked harshly at Zam and spoke forcefully. “That tells me nothing. You are not speaking of her. You speak of circumstance. Is she beautiful? Is she proud? Does she hold your heart? Tell me, Boy, why is this girl worth traveling the dark wood?”
Zam was flustered by the sudden flare of anger from Corben.
“She simply is,” he said quickly. “Her family spoke so highly of her, and it was apparent that they bore great wounds over losing her. I was told she was both gentle and fierce, with a heart that would not stand for the innocent to be harmed, and with a great compassion for people.” His eyes began to well. “I could not bear to see the sadness in her family’s eyes when they thought of her. Is she beautiful? Yes. She is, though I have laid eyes on her only in a painting. Is she proud? I dare say she is not. It is her family’s love for her, their description of her, and her own sweet spirit conveyed through them that stirred my soul to help.”
Zam’s tear filled eyes were locked to Corben’s as a silent moment passed. Corben softened. “That tells me more.” He had been moved by Zam’s words. “Your belongings will be safe in my care. Pray to whomever you pray that Guardian Neereth has more compassion toward you than to others who offend the Seritheen. Death is most often the price for such deeds. I am intrigued that she let you live at all, and brought you to the keep no less. It is not common. These cells have not held a prisoner since she became chief guardian. Our blades have tasted the blood of many.”
Griss had been sitting silently against the wall all this time. “Guardian Corben, is it possible to have an audience with the chief guardian?”
Corben paused, looking Griss squarely in the eye. “I do not believe so. She is likely summoning her counselor. As such, she is not to be disturbed. Most likely she will call the boy when she is ready, but that may be some time.” He turned to Zam. “And you are correct, Boy. Your time runs short to aid your friend. The Coriaerans are expected to reach market within the week. I am sorry.” He turned toward the door and took a step before looking back. “We will speak again.” Griss and Zam both bowed slightly, and Corben left.
Zam’s head was throbbing, his body aching, and his heart sick. His rash actions were likely to cost Raine her virtue and leave her to a life of ignoble service.
Griss gently said, “Zam, I am sorry that I ensured our captivity.”
“You did right, Griss. My action ensured….” Zam sighed a heavy sigh and fell silent, feeling foolish and powerless, and he could not keep tears from falling.
Griss silently watched his friend’s pain as fears of his own began to brew.
After a long silence, the prisoners drifted fitfully to sleep.
Zam felt as though he was not truly there when the room lit up. This was not his cell. He found himself in—though not in, yet seeing—a large study; an open room with wooden floors and two walls filled with books. The other walls were as bare as sheets. Light from several lanterns illuminated the room as did a fire that crackled near to a young girl about fifteen years of age sitting at a table. Before her lay pieces of armor, a sword, Zam’s staff, and his book.
Zam knew in an instant it was the chief guardian, Tara Neereth. She was beautiful, with long blond hair that hung like silk past her shoulders. Her skin was soft and pale, almost too pale, and her face was as sweet as a young girl’s should be. Zam felt himself drawn unwillingly into compassion for her, until he saw her eyes in the firelight. They were cold, and though a brilliant blue, something about them was paler than her skin.
She listened to the whisper of the breeze as it grew from near silence to gale force. A storm was approaching. She seemed to be reviewing something in her mind when she spoke. “What would possess them to travel through the dark wood?” She paused then quoted sarcastically, “It was the only way to aid a friend.” She closed her eyes to listen to the sounds: the wind pounding the shutters, the creaking of the wood floor, the popping of the fire, and a whisper. Zam heard it too, and it chilled him. She seemed to recognize the voice.
It said, “The giant is nothing.”
Fear ran through Zam, but he realized it was Tara’s fear he felt, for the whisper was using words from her own thoughts. She thought of Griss as a giant. Zam sensed the voice did this often to remind her of all it could know.
Again the voice spoke. “The giant is nothing. The boy must be stopped.” The urgency in the voice seemed to unsettle the girl, as if she had never heard it speak in such a tone.
“Stopped from what?”
There was no reply.
“Why do you not appear?”
Again no reply.
“The boy must be stopped....” The voice trailed off as if it had departed mid-sentence.
“Why must he be stopped? From what?” She waited. “Why do you not respond?” The lack of answers disturbed her. An uneasiness settled in. The voice seemed afraid, and Tara had never believed a Seritheen could experience fear.
“No! No, that is not it! He wasn’t afraid. He was in a hurry.” She was trying to convince herself.
Again Zam felt compassion for her.
Just then, from a distance came shouting and the clanging of swords. It was drawing closer. In an instant Tara leapt up and donned her armor. Her helmet remained on the table. She drew her sword and was about to join the fray when the door to the study burst open.
Zam awoke to a lump of stale bread striking him on the side of his head, precisely where Daze had struck him the night before. The throbbing, which had subsided long enough for him to get some sleep, began again.
“Wake up, little pup. And eat your bread.” The voice belonged to Daze. He was holding a plate of something Zam didn't recognize as food. “Take it! It tastes like something a boar would leave behind in the woods, but it won’t poison you, unfortunately.”
Zam took the food and began to eat. It was the worst meal he could ever recall.
Griss took his food as well. “Thank you, Guardian Daze, for your kindness.”
“Kindness? I’ll have to make my aim clearer
next time.” He turned again to Zam. “The only reason you’re alive is the little chief finds you intriguing. If anyone could figure out why I’d like to know.” He turned a cold scowl on Griss. “And you... the only reason I agreed to bring your food is so I could see you both sitting miserably behind bars. There was no kindness in it. Make no mistake.”
Corben stepped around the corner from the hall. “That will be quite enough, Daze. You have other duties, and I assure you attending the prisoners will not be among them again.” He stepped aside and the large soldier from the prior night stepped into view. Corben said, “Rorin, will you see to it that Daze meets Guardian Tessts and receives this week’s commission?” Meeting Daze’s glare with equal strength, Corben said. “I believe you are to stand guard in the stables, shovel in hand.”
Daze looked as though he would spit at Corben were there not other soldiers nearby who understood the required respect of rank. Rorin led Daze back out and Corben remained alone with the prisoners.
Zam looked at the kindly guardian and he was struck by a realization. There’s something about this man... I believe I can trust him. There in the light of morning it seemed especially true.
Corben faced Griss. “I was correct yestereve when I said Guardian Neereth would not allow distractions.”
Zam’s spirits dropped. He had hoped for some good news when Corben drove Daze away.
“But as is my duty, I went through your belongings last night, and I understand why you were so concerned, Boy. The ransom for your friend is safe. Some is gone, as I could not keep all from my master without fear of being found out, but none would have guessed two travelers such as yourselves to carry so great a treasure.” He paused, deep in thought for a moment, then looked at Griss. “And you, Sir... the weapon you carried... I know of its origin, and have had to take it to Guardian Neereth.” Griss leapt to his feet and the chains pulled tight. “You did what?”