Her laugh was light and vivid. “You manage to find the worst in things. Not everything has a dagger waiting in the shadows.”
His scowl went unseen in the night. Barum knew better and was forced to stifle his laugh.
“Tell me more about this…special talent you have,” Pirneon said after a time.
“What can I say? One day, I woke up and felt different inside. It really is almost unexplainable. The feeling came and went at first. I’d get flashes when I least expected.”
His eyes turned cold at the thought. “Could it have to do with the manner in which you were raised?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. I was raised to follow in the code of the knights. My father did his best to train me in the old ways.”
He wasn’t satisfied. “You were not trained on Skaag Mountain. Knights connected with an ancient power in the depths of the mountain. The order of scholars believed that’s where we learned and developed. Some argued the power stemmed from the very heart of Malweir. Growing up so far away from Gaimos could have distanced you from the source enough to mutate your bond.”
“I have made the pilgrimage to the ancient training grounds and felt the stirrings of the old power, Pirneon. Yet it has not changed me. Kistan goes to great lengths to ensure we each attain our full potential, without becoming a threat.”
Pirneon said, “He was considered a recluse even among us. Spent most of his time in the deep forests. Some say he often spoke to Elves and other Fey creatures. For myself, I have seen neither. One day, he rode off into the east towards the forest of Relin Werd. When he returned three years later, he was dressed in simple blue robes. Gone were his weapons and horse. He claimed he no longer followed the code, for it led only to death. He was laughed at and shunned.
“I was one who did not believe him. Right before the end, he gave away all of his possessions and whispered a harsh prophecy on our lands. ‘In one score and a day, the pride of this people shall shatter,’ he said. Kistan was driven from Gaimos and proclaimed a heretic.”
Pirneon’s voice faded to a whisper. “Twenty years and a day later, his prophecy was fulfilled.”
One of the spare mounts snickered and dropped its ears flat.
“At any rate, I’d believed him dead.”
“He’s anything but. Far to the east lies a great lake, named Thuil by the Elves. Do you know of it?” she asked.
He did.
“Kistan has made it his home. For the last fifty plus years, he’s built a private community on the shores of the lake. There are folk of all races there: Dwarves, Elves, Trolls, even a Sprygg or two.”
“An odd assortment. To what end?” he asked.
“He’s teaching them.”
Pirneon straightened and reined to a halt. “Teaching them what?”
Dark visions of a more twisted, abstract Gaimos sprang to life.
“To find an inner power and develop it to maximum potential. None can say where the power comes from, for only he and a handful of others are from Gaimos. To my knowledge, they use their talents for good, though I did not stay long. The calling brought me back west.”
“These are dangerous tidings you speak of,” he admitted. “Our kind was given the bond as a gift from the gods. Now you tell me it has mutated? Changed? We have squandered our gift and will pay for our sins. Untrained power such as this has the potential to tear all of Malweir apart. Kistan could well be marching us towards a final doom.”
Aphere regarded him sharply. “Pirneon, his students are forbidden to carry any sort of weapon. They had but a handful of retainer guards to ward off brigands and such, but no more. He preaches peace.”
“How many do you think have answered his calling?”
“Maybe a hundred,” she quietly answered.
He clicked his horse forward. Strong premonitions burned, leaving a frightened feeling in the core of his being. Arguing with Aphere wasn’t going to solve anything. He felt the taint in her bond and was disgusted. The bond was sacred and holy to their blood. Any transformation should be considered abhorrent, but he withheld his judgment. As former Knight Marshall, he was trusted to be fair and impartial. He knew what needed to be done, though he remained hesitant.
“I think one day I will go see Kistan and learn the truth behind his teachings. Whether it bodes ill or not I will discover soon enough,” he said.
“Fair enough,” Aphere said.
Dawn streaked through the sky by the time they stopped. They helped Barum erect a large canvas lean-to large enough for the three of them and their horses. By dusk, they were heading west again. Pirneon figured they were still at least a day away from the edge of the desert and even further from the Kergland Spine. Cresting a large series of dunes, they looked down upon a sprawling complex of tents. At last, they’d arrived at the way station. Drenched in sweat and bordering dehydration, they were more than ready to resupply and rest before heading out. He figured they’d need at least a full day in order to recover from their trek across the desert. Less than an hour later found them bathed and eating roast lamb in a large common area tent.
THIRTEEN
Old Friends
Aphere splashed the cool water on her face before dunking her entire head. Several onlookers watched her waste of water suspiciously. They whispered and murmured of the insolent woman who dared show her face among the tribes. Talk turned towards punishing her until they spied the amount of weapons strapped to her body. One by one, the onlookers drifted back to their business.
Caravans geared up and hired additional guards for the long trek across the warring desert. Many of those at the way station were permanent fixtures. Some rotated in and out of passing caravans while others remained to tend the shops and various businesses. Dark tanned women concealed behind diaphanous veils waited in perfumed tents for weary travelers to spend their coin and forget their troubles. Old grey beards sat around ornate water pipes gilded in gold. They drank from tiny glass cups of hot, heavily sugared tea. Trays of dates and other desert fruits filled the huge tables of the dining tents.
Pirneon took it all in with casual interest. His time among the desert tribes had left him with a sour taste, and he cared nothing for them. The way station was perhaps the calmest place he’d visited since coming to the Jebel Desert. He drank his tea and watched. No matter how long he remained here, he’d never understand how they could stomach such a drink in this heat.
Aphere slipped onto the bench opposite him and popped a lemon wedge into her mouth. Her lips puckered, and she scrunched her face tightly before spitting out the rind.
“Have you felt it?” she asked of a sudden.
Pirneon nodded almost imperceptibly. “We have. There is another Gaimosian here.”
“Should we go find him?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve a feeling he will come to us. Besides, he is an old…friend if my senses are accurate.”
Aphere wanted to say more but decided against it. Being the junior knight, she was still trying to learn her role in their group.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked in unexpected amusement.
She shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. It felt good to be on an actual mattress. Almost like being back in civilization again.”
“I found it rather discomforting,” he admitted. “It’s been a long time since I was afforded the simple luxury. The desert has changed me.”
“How so?”
“How else can you explain me drinking this damned hot tea in the heat of the day?”
Aphere burst into laughter. Pirneon followed, as did Barum.
“What else shall we do to occupy our time while here?” she asked after recovering. “I haven’t had a good sparring partner in over a year.”
“None in Salac’s army could match you?”
She snorted. “It took at least ten just to tire me.”
His eyes shone brightly beneath his bushy eyebrows. “No need for so many today. I accept your offer. You and I shall dance swords tonight.”<
br />
“I look forward to it,” she smiled back.
They finished their meal in relative silence.
Aphere ran her hand down the flat of her sword. Like herself, the blade was well tempered and slender, more of a rapier than the huge broadsword Pirneon preferred. Only one side of the blade was sharpened. The sword had a slight curve to aid in slashing without losing stabbing power. His sword was made for brute force. Double-edged and heavy, it was a weapon perfected for cleaving and hacking limbs. Since the dawn of Gaimosian culture, blade masters had taught that the sword was an extension of the knight who wielded it.
Both knights went through a series of stretches. Combat didn’t afford such luxury, but injuries happened more often than not when not properly prepared. Barum marked the training area and stepped back. He was given his own set of drills to practice while they danced. In the end, each knight would offer him a chance to come and test his skills. It was a ritual as old and tried as their very order. Finished stretching, the knights faced off and bowed.
“Begin,” Pirneon commanded.
Aphere drew her sword back, angled sideways and shoulder high. Pirneon took a half step back and raised his broadsword overhead in a high guard. Neither betrayed a hint of emotion. Nor did they notice the growing crowd around them. The Knight Marshall struck first, bringing his sword down towards the exposed side of her neck. Aphere sidestepped and blocked the blow by crossing her body.
Weight and size were to his advantage, and he pressed hard. Clang. Clang. Steel sparked as it struck steel. Both gave everything, losing themselves to the dance. After twenty minutes and several near-deadly blows neither had scored a point. They halted long enough to catch their breath and drink a little water.
“It seems we are quite popular tonight,” Aphere said after wiping the sweat from her face. “I’m not used to being watched by so many non-participants.”
“Perhaps you’d care to challenge some of them instead?” he asked.
“I haven’t beaten you yet, or perhaps I would.”
She walked back to the center of the pit and raised her sword in challenge. Pirneon followed.
“Begin,” she said and aimed a slashing blow across his stomach.
“Thank you for that,” Pirneon told her over a breakfast of brown fruit with bright green flesh and honeyed water. “I always welcome the challenge of youth.”
Aphere smiled. Her shoulders were sore. “You didn’t do so bad yourself. I was hard pressed just to defend.”
Pirneon returned the smile and thought of his own aches. He was nearly three times as old as Aphere and suffered from too many pains to note. They served as constant reminders of the passing time.
“It felt good to spar with one of my own blood again. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to face a talented opponent,” he admitted. “Barum, you did exceptionally well. You are about to become a fine knight. There is nothing more I can teach you. When we arrive at Skaag Mountain, I shall confer upon you the title of Gaimosian knight. It will be yours to seek out and train others of the blood.”
Barum was instantly humbled. “Thank you.”
A server presented them with cups of hot tea, which Pirneon subconsciously took and paid for. He shook his head as the hot liquid burned down his throat.
“I simply don’t understand these people,” he muttered and set the empty glass down.
Aphere snickered. “That doesn’t prevent you from enjoying their drink. He barely left the table, and your glass is empty. Barum and I haven’t even touched ours yet.”
“Bah…” Pirneon scowled and looked away.
A shadow fell across the table, causing them to look up. Pirneon’s eyes went wide with recognition.
“I’ve been searching for you for a long time, Pirneon.”
“Kavan?”
The knight smiled and clasped forearms with his former teacher. “There is a matter I must discuss with you — one I believe to be of grave importance.”
They made a place for him and bade him sit. Pirneon caught the server’s attention and ordered more tea. Aphere concealed her amusement. They ate and drank with minimal conversation, for Kavan was both tired and hungry. Sated, Kavan lit his oak stem pipe and began his tale.
“I believe there is some dark power at work in the world. In the past year alone I have come across several werebeasts,” he told them in serious tones.
Aphere’s eyes narrowed, for these creatures were known to her. The prospect of facing one sent shivers coursing through her. Pirneon leaned back. A worried look creased his brow.
“Werebeasts? There’s been no sighting of one in over a millennium. Are you certain?” he pressed, not willing to give in to hysteria without vetting thoroughly.
Kavan nodded. “Aye. The first damn near killed me. It left a terrible trail of bodies until I ran it down and finished it.”
“Think it possible you killed the host?” It was rumored that if the werebeast who’d initially born the disease was killed, then all of those it had turned would wither and die.
“No, for another came across my path a few months later. There’s more to this tale, though,” he said.
Pirneon frowned. “More?” he asked.
“These were not the beasts of legend. I saw too many human features in them. They looked crossed between man and beast. As if a vile power transformed them into abominations.”
Pirneon shifted his gaze to Aphere and struggled to rationalize his private fears before they led him to false accusations. She met his gaze, daring him to speak.
“There is no power in Malweir capable of such a thing,” Pirneon said finally. “Not even dragons are rumored to be so strong.”
In truth, dragons were rare, mysterious beasts. Few alive claimed to ever having seen one, for the great wyrms stayed in their lofty mountain haunts deep in the most isolated parts of the world.
“What could have done such?” Aphere asked. Despite Pirneon’s obvious prejudices, she knew this matter had no connection to Kistan and his enclave.
“It is rumored that Gessun Thune has been rediscovered,” Kavan told her.
She shook her head. “I’m not familiar.”
“It is an ancient place of evil,” Pirneon cut in. “Back when the world was young, there was a war among the gods. They came down onto Malweir and wrecked the planet in their rage. Mountains shattered. Rivers dried up. The planet was left barren. When the rebellion ended, the gods of light abandoned what was left and banished the dark gods to another realm. They say Gessun Thune was the spot of the final battle. Some fell powers are said to infest the very ground.”
“Surely that is just an old wives tale,” Aphere said.
“Most myths are rooted in truth,” Pirneon answered. “Legends say that, after the war ended, new races crept into the world. None knew from where. They gathered at Gessun Thune and cast a great spell upon the world. If any ever discovered the ruins, evil would be loosed again. Bo Aphere, I believe this place to be very real.”
Kavan agreed. “As do I. How else can we explain such nightmares walking the lands?”
“There must be something else, especially if this foul place has been discovered.”
Pirneon rubbed his temples. “Tell us, Kavan, where is Gessun Thune rumored to have been discovered?”
“West of the Kergland Spine. There’s a small kingdom called Aradain. King Eglios has ruled there for some years now. Villagers south and east of the capital are frightened to their bones at the portents. For it, Aradain suffers. Folk speak of plagues and random disappearances. The shades of their ancestors have stopped coming.”
“But it’s been how many thousands of years since the war? This could be just a rogue sorcerer tinkering,” she pressed, unwilling to blindly accept what he was saying.
“Perhaps,” Pirneon seconded.
“Pirneon, there’s more. Even now, Eglios is organizing a large-scale hunt to track down this evil. If they unwittingly stumble on whatever the source is, there could be doom for us
all.”
“Ominous events unfold in the west, it appears,” Pirneon finally agreed.
“I have traveled many leagues to seek your counsel. Will you ride with me, old friend?” Kavan asked. He set his pipe on the table.
Pirneon clasped his hand firmly. “I shall. I think this is a test we were born to take.”
“I’m coming as well,” Aphere told them.
Kavan grinned at her eagerness, wondering if it would remain after they squared off against more of the werebeasts.
Pirneon added, “Naturally, your company is welcome. I think the more help we get, the better this affair will end. Four Gaimosians! This will long be a moment remembered!”
They toasted to their success with a fresh round of hot tea.
Kavan joined them in the dance of blades that night. The crowds doubled. Men continued to grumble over Aphere’s disregard of their customs while exchanging bets. Soon, the sounds of steel striking steel filled the skies over the way station. Some feared these strange warriors were gathering for some unholy tournament, for surely their size alone marked them as demons. No mortal could dance so gracefully with swords and not be wounded.
Kavan strapped down the last of his saddlebags. He looked up to watch Aphere do the same. He found her exceptionally attractive, though younger than he. She carried herself with poise and a grace ingrained through rigid discipline. She turned and caught him staring. Her cheeks flushed.
“I’ve not seen you before,” he told her in the hopes of dissuading her from thinking he had been ogling her. The attempt was lame. “Where did you grow up?”
“North, past the Thed Mountains,” she told him.
“My travels have yet to take me there.”
“It is a hard land. Winter is long and especially fierce. My parents’ parents thought it was the perfect environment to raise and train future knights,” she said. “We grow hard, like the grey stone of the mountains. I recall many winter nights in the mountains training and drilling with the sword in naught but a tunic and breeks while my father sat watching beside a small fire. I was not allowed warmth until he was satisfied with my performance.”
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