Guards Vestige

by Alexander Adams

  “That man robbed us.”

  Claudia smiled as Kenneth brought the subject up for the fifth time. “He robbed you,” she said.

  Kenneth scoffed and avoided eye contact. “Even a man in Luden wouldn’t charge me seventy gold marks for three saddled horses. It’s absurd!”

  “His daughter warned you.”

  “We’re broke!”

  She smiled again. “You’re broke.”

  Kenneth mumbled to himself as they rode down the forest road away from Sapella’s Crossing. Daniel frequently looked behind him as they went. He wasn’t sure why. Sapella’s Crossing had disappeared from sight long ago and the further away they got, the heavier the weight on his chest felt. He glanced at each of his new companions. Kenneth and Mila rode in front on a black and a grey mare, respectively. Claudia was next to Daniel on a white mare, with Daniel atop a dark bay gelding. It was Connie’s horse, relatively young at five years. It had been given to her by her father, who had been rather upset to hear she was giving it to Daniel for his trip. He had glared up until the moment they were out of sight.

  Daniel turned to look at Claudia. “So,” he asked, “we’re going straight to Vigil?”

  “Unless something comes up, yes. We’re passing through Grey Gate first, followed by a night in Silvum. Then it’s a straight shot to Vigil.”

  “What’s Vigil like?” Daniel said. “It’s a city, isn’t it?”

  “Not an official one according to the council,” Claudia answered.

  “How many Dragon Guards are there?”

  “Not as many as we would like. Many of us don’t actually stay within the city for the better part of the year. Most are out on assignments like we were a few days ago, until the Autumn’s End Festival.”

  The conversation helped ease the feeling of dread in Daniel’s gut. He was grateful Claudia was so cheerful with her answers. It was beginning to rub off on him.

  Kenneth laughed. “You’re an inquisitive lad, aren’t you?” he said.

  Mila spoke quietly from beneath her hood. “It’s a good trait.”

  Daniel shrugged before resuming his questioning: “So why won’t the council make Vigil an official city?”

  Claudia pursed her lips, clearly annoyed at the answer she had to give: “To put it simply, they don’t like Dragon Guards.”

  “That’s it? They don’t like you?”

  “I said I was putting it simply.” She sighed and looked thoughtful. “The brunt of the blame goes to Grey Gate’s and Dawnstone’s councilmen. They . . . strongly ‘dislike’ Dragon Guards and have enough gold to sway the other members to agree.”

  “Why do they dislike Dragon Guards so much?”

  She grinned at him. “We have our suspicions, though nothing concrete yet.”

  Daniel was unsure what she meant or how to respond, so the conversation ended there. They had been riding for hours. Most of the time had been spent in silence, while the rest was filled with casual conversation. Just after midday, Mila had started teaching Daniel about the various plants they passed. Now the sun was dipping low and the world around them dimmed. Mila rode ahead of them to look for a place to set up their camp for the night. She returned a few minutes later to lead them into the trees, where they found a small clearing surrounded by undergrowth, with an open view to the night sky above them.

  Kenneth dismounted and handed his reins to Mila. “Why don’t you and Daniel get the horses unsaddled?” he said. “Claudia and I will get a fire started.”

  Mila and Daniel led the horses to the edge of the clearing. Mila pulled out four long stakes with rings at their tops and drove them into the ground before tying the horses’ reins to loops so they could begin removing their saddles.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  Mila’s voice startled him. He turned to look at her as she slipped one of the saddles off. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  She set the saddle down, then straightened and faced him. “I can tell you’re scared,” she said. “Don’t be. You’ll be fine. I can already tell you’re a quick learner.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “What makes you say that?”

  “Part of being a ranger involves being able to read people, being able to tell what they’re made of and who they are. You’ll make a good Dragon Guard.”

  He nodded awkwardly, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Silence followed her statement and after a few moments he felt the need to break it. “When did you join? Were you younger than me?”

  “Ten years ago. I was seventeen. I left for Vigil against my family’s wishes and arrived far later than I planned too. Showed up during the Autumn’s End Festival. They were having new recruits swear their oath at the keep when I showed up banging on the city gate in the dead of night and nearly frozen. A warden named Obadiah was on watch and helped me into the gatehouse before I died in the snow. He kept me by the fire while he spoke with the captains and commander about delaying the ceremony a little while longer, until I could stand and speak. I was swearing my oath with the others shortly after.”

  “They delayed the ceremony for you? Why would he do that? Did he ever say?”

  “It was thanks to Obadiah. He had just finished his training and was very well regarded by them all. He convinced them I was worth it. I suppose he saw something in me he thought was worth the effort.” She gave out a short laugh. “That, and I technically did make it to Vigil in time, just not in the usual manner. But I owe Obadiah my life. I would have died in the cold without him . . . ” she sighed quietly, “I truly cannot imagine my life without him at this point.”

  The two of them finished unsaddling and tending the horses before making their way over to the newly built fire. Daniel took a seat on the cool grass next to Claudia while Mila sat on the far side with Kenneth as he dug through his pack and withdrew several hunks of dried meat and a loaf of bread. He broke the bread into portions and passed it and the meat around the fire.

  Claudia nudged Daniel as they ate. “Daniel, you have a book about Dragon Guards, yes? Could I see it?” He nodded and retrieved it from his saddlebag as she continued. “I’m so happy you brought it. It’s not often a book about Dragon Guards pops up that paints us in a positive light.”

  Daniel handed it to her. Claudia pried it open and began reading. She hadn’t even passed the first page before she furrowed her brow.

  He looked at her, curious. “What’s wrong?”

  She closed the book and examined the cover, then the spine where the tittle was written, before opening the book again and repeating the cycle after glancing at several more pages further in. “Where, did you say this book came from?” she asked thoughtfully.

  “My father gave it to me, not long before he left.”

  She hummed thoughtfully. “Who was your father?”

  Daniel shrugged. “He worked for Mr. May, he broke horses. Why, what’s wrong with the book?”

  She tapped the cover. “This book is from the Vigil library . . . well, it is several books actually. Multiple different journal entries copied down.”

  She clearly didn’t notice the confusion on his face. “What?” he said. “Are you sure?”

  Claudia shook her head in astonishment. “I’ve read these very pages dozens of times, though they were never all within the same cover. There seems to be at least seven different journals copied down in here, though not in their entirety.”

  “Wait, journals? Isn’t it just a storybook?”

  “No,” she said. “This is a history book, a series of journals from rangers and scholars from the late Second and Third Age.” She handed it back to him. “Do not lose this. I’ll need to make a copy when we get to Vigil. We’ll have to find out exactly which entries were copied from where.”

  Mila looked at her curiously. “Is that wise to let him keep it? The things written in that book are incredibly valuable.”

>   Claudia shrugged. “I see no harm in letting him keep it. It was a gift from his father, regardless of where it came from, and he’s already read it several times. As I said, I’ll make a copy when we get to Vigil.”

  Daniel stared at the book in his hands in a state of utter bewilderment.

  Kenneth clapped his hands together before standing. “Well then!” he said. “I think that’s enough chatting. We best get some sleep as we have a lot of riding ahead of us. I’ll take first watch and ensure the fire keeps going.”

  Kenneth unhooked a bedroll from one of the saddles and tossed it more at Daniel than to him. Daniel sat for a few moments longer, staring at the book in his lap, before putting it down and laying out his bedding. He didn’t lie down right away. Instead, he opened Hidden Efforts: A Recount of History and began reading it in the firelight with a new perspective on the events told within.

  Chapter Five

  13th of Horace, 26th year of the Fourth Age.

  Griffon Hart walked down the wide and dark side streets of Forge. All around her she heard hammers striking steel and the sounds of bellows stoking dozens of fires, both providing a tune to the medley of curses thrown around by the local smiths when a hammer didn’t strike quite like they hoped or when their leather gloves didn’t protect from the heat. She hated the sounds. They were constant in this city, a never-ending drone that numbed her mind and caused her to tune out the world around her. Even in the night they were always present.

  She was making her way down the long, winding street as quickly as she could, a purchase order clutched tightly in her hand. She glanced at the numbers again and felt an overwhelming sense of unease. Six crates of raw iron, three gold and fifty silver marks. Her father wasn’t going to be happy about the price, but she had gotten it as low as she could, even going so far as purchasing the materials from the Whitley mine. They had by far the cheapest prices. Admittedly, the Whitleys sold below-average purity of metal, but Griffon had no choice. She had to take what they could afford.

  Compared to most of the Forgemasters in the city, her father was small time, having only five workers beneath him, including one of her brothers. They didn’t have nearly the manpower to take on larger orders and had to make do with the work none of the others bothered with. More often than not, the small jobs didn’t pay well enough to support them properly. They hadn’t received a decent contract in well over two years, which meant they hadn’t been paid well in over two years. It was starting to show in both their appearance and their general health. They needed something soon or she wasn’t sure they would last much longer.

  Griffon sighed as she finally reached their small home set at the southwestern corner against the city walls. To one side and connected to their home was the smith itself. The wall adjacent to the narrow street was open to the air, allowing the smoke and heat to escape. The other walls were covered in shoddy racks meant for various tools. Her father was attempting to make do with the bare minimum after he had to sell what little tools they’d had. Looking into the smith only made her more worried about their situation. She headed past the open wall and stepped through the front door into their home.

  She was greeted by the familiar, dull-grey walls of cracked stone and the rotting wood floor. The interior was freezing and would stay that way as long as they remained without work.

  Griffon’s older brothers, Mathis and Richard, were seated beneath the grimy sitting-room window, playing a card game. They gave her a brief glance as she entered. Mathis was the oldest at eighteen and had short, dirty-blond hair, as well as a wide and muscular build thanks to his hours working metal with their father. Richard was a year older than Griffon at seventeen. He had light, sandy-colored hair that hung down nearly to his shoulders. He was much like Griffon in his build, nearly six feet tall and thin, making him look almost frail. Across the room, her father Timothy had his head down and was thumbing through their logbook studying the record of all recent sales and purchases. His white, thinning hair hung down over his brow, nearly covering his eyes.

  When he saw Griffon, he picked up a quill from an inkwell and spoke in a gruff, tired voice: “How much was it?”

  Griffon sighed and braced for his upset. “Three gold and fifty silver marks. They wouldn’t go any lower.”

  He scoffed and looked at her with the same sky-blue eyes that all four of them shared. “Three gold? Where did you go for it?” He frowned, flipped to the last page of the ledger, and jotted the number down.

  “Whitley,” she said. “They were they only ones we could afford.”

  He scowled. “Chances are you just bought us six crates of stone.”

  She tried to smile to ease his irritation. “I did the best I could.”

  “Should have sent Mathis.” He shook his head before looking to her brother. “Go fire up the forge, boy. Once those crates get here we have work to do.”

  Mathis nodded and jumped up to head out the door. He roughly jostled Griffon, knocking her aside as he shouldered passed. She bit her tongue and glared at the back of his head as he disappeared.

  Her father stood and started for the door as well. “There’s an auction starting up at noon, at the northern base. There’s seven contracts available.” He turned and glared at her before stepping through the door. “Get one.”

  Griffon sighed. She hated the auctions. Everyone always looked at her like they looked at her mother. “Why can’t Richard go?”

  Her father glared at her and brushed his hair from his forehead before answering. “Because he has no spine for bidding. At least the other forgemasters might pity you. It’s the only thing you’re any good for anymore.”

  She felt her face heat and her jaw clench. “Yes, sir.”

  Griffon turned away from her father and walked across the house to the bedroom she shared with her brothers. She shut the door, knelt beside her bed, and placed her fingers between the cracks of two floorboards. She firmly gripped one and lifted. The board gave way, revealing a small, holey, patchwork coin pouch.

  She dug into her pockets, withdrew a handful of silver, and smiled. The real reason she had gone to the Whitley mine was that the owner was the only one in Forge who seemed to treat her decently and supported her desire to get out of the city. He had given her a faulty receipt; the price had been three gold marks flat, while the fifty silver went into her stash. She was halfway to being able to buy passage on one of the trade ships. She planned on making her way down the coast to a fresh start once spring arrived.

  Feeling slightly more hopeful than she had moments earlier, Griffon placed the coins in the bag and dropped it back into the hole before covering it up and heading out the door. She heard her father call after her, but she was out and onto the street quick enough to avoid him and whatever he wanted. She walked toward the cliffs and mines in the rear of the city. By taking a few shortcuts through the alleyways, she made it to the base of the north wall in roughly a half hour. She scanned the small buildings set at the bottom of the towering cliff wall before turning her eyes upwards.

  Forge was located in a quarry that spanned an entire mountainside. The north, west, and east walls were sheer cliff faces rising several hundred feet into the air, forming a natural defense. The mountain, known as the Iron Rise, was abundant in minerals and jewels, iron being the most prominent. It was the reason for the founding of the city. Because of the easy access to the metal, smiths from all across Edaren flocked here to practice their trade. Now Forge was the primary source of armaments for every city watch and town militia in Edaren, as well as for most standard metal work.

  The cliffs surrounding Forge were dotted with entryways to various tunnels, all owned by different foremen. Next to each of them were rather unsafe-looking ramp ways and pulleys attached to wooden platforms that ferried workers up and the metals they retrieved down. Due to the cliffs, the city was constantly washed in shadows, save for a small amount of time just befor
e and after midday. The gloom of shadows, the dull stone, and the constant drone of noise combined to give the whole city an oppressive tone.

  Griffon peeled her eyes away from the towering rock walls and looked toward the building that served as the auction house. Dozens of people waited outside for the doors to open and the bidding to begin. She made her way over and stood off to one side of the crowd, though that didn’t stop the stares from those gathered. The silence that always hung in the air before an auction was broken as a voice called for everyone taking part to make their way in. She waited for most of the crowd to enter before she followed behind.

  Even though she entered last, several people still looked at Griffon over their shoulders. She tried her best to ignore them and disappear into the corner of the room while she waited for the auction to start. She didn’t have to wait long. Several men and women dressed in finely crafted, embroidered clothes that stood out among the normally drab colors of Forge made their way onto a wooden stage at the front of the room. One of the men carried a large book up to the podium at the center and placed it on top before opening it and addressing the room.

  “Thank you all for coming,” the man said. “We have seven contracts up for bid today. We will start with the lowest pay offer and work our way to the highest.” He scanned the book again before speaking. “We’ll start with Ms. Dryer from the township of Luden.”

  Griffon immediately tuned out the rest of the sentence. Contracts from Luden were never worth the time or the effort. More often than not, they would be canceled halfway through the deadline or the forgemaster would never get paid at all. Forgemasters in Forge made their money through contracts with merchants and traders from other cities. What the forges were paid was decided by auction. Forgemasters or their representatives bid on projects. With each bid, the pay they would receive for the job went down. For the forgemasters, this made for a fine balance between the employees one had to pay versus the time the contract would take in order to make a decent profit. Too often, small forges like those run by Griffon’s family were forced to the sidelines.