Beyond the Edge of Dawn

by Christian Warren Freed

  Finally, Corso eased forward. He was all but a snake in his coal black robes. “Pirneon of Gaimos, Knight Marshal and honored guest of the kingdom of Aradain, I present you to our lord and liege, King Eglios.”

  Pirneon halted at the foot of the alabaster throne and bowed crisply. “My lord, it is an honor to be in your presence.”

  Eglios gestured with his right hand. “Rise, Knight Marshal. It is you who honor us. My cabinet tells me you had a part to play in stopping less than desirable deeds in the marketplace. My thanks to you for protecting my citizens.”

  “Order is the basis upon which the principles of Gaimos were founded. There can be no peace without order,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “Indeed. These are perilous times threatening to subsume us all. I’m sure you have heard by now that we are under siege by dark powers?”

  “I have, and I also come to bring tidings of hope to the people of Aradain. I have traveled far to fight these fiends. While I shall not bore you with tales of my journey, know that it was perilous and filled with many of these monsters you face. Sire, I am no stranger to their brand of evil, and I have come to pledge my services in the defense of this kingdom, should you have me.”

  Eglios listened with half-hearted interest. The words were all lies as far as he was concerned. He struggled to keep from ordering Moncrieff to kill him now. But a king must show compassion when often there is none.

  “We gratefully and humbly accept your service. Perhaps this quest shall go a long way in the healing process between the kingdoms of the west,” Eglios said eloquently and rose. “Tonight shall be a grand banquet in your honor. There has been need for celebration of late. I believe our citizens will rejoice to have a true hero among us. In the meantime, I would ask that you meet with my minister, Corso, and General Moncrieff, commander of my armies. They can fill you in on all that has transpired to this point.”

  All parties exchanged obviously pained bows. Corso led them away from the king after being summarily dismissed. Eglios had much to consider before the banquet. He trusted no one, especially Corso. More and more, the minister gave the impression of having devious intent. That little fact gave him cause for concern over Moncrieff’s loyalty as well.

  A dark plan hatched on his way back to his chambers. He’d heard of such a thing being done before, mostly rumors of great men willing to sacrifice for the greater good of their lands. Peasants often referred to such men as tyrants. Eglios shook his head. They were all close-minded people too absorbed in their trivial lives to understand. Yes, he decided, perhaps the leadership of Aradain could stand for a purge.

  FORTY-ONE

  Plans within Plans

  “I should never have agreed to come along on this damned fool quest,” Geblin growled between gulps of ale. “I’ve near been killed a dozen times over and haven’t stopped looking over my shoulder yet! Now this!”

  He pointed at his bandaged ankle. It was sprained worse than they had previously though. Kavan insisted on fixing it properly upon their return to Rantis. To his credit, the Gnome kept his pain silent. He’d never admit it, but the oracle’s words meant more to him than anything he’d ever been told. They gave him renewed purpose, a sense of belonging in a world that had been intent on abandoning him.

  Despite all that, he cursed and growled more. “Look at this! I can’t even put a boot on. Just how am I supposed to fight like this?”

  Smoldering embers of rage echoed behind his hazel eyes.

  Kavan rolled his eyes, lost in thought over the events of the night prior.

  “Relax, Geblin,” Aphere chuckled.

  Geblin stared her down. “Easy for you to say. I don’t remember seeing so much as a scratch on you…from last night.”

  “I’m willing to bet I have more scars than you can imagine. Besides, who says you have to fight? The oracle said each of us was important. He never said how.”

  Geblin grimaced and returned to his drink.

  Barum entered a short time later. His face was twisted with worry. Fortunately, the common room was empty. People’s attentions were focused on the grand banquet hall, not a handful of misfits keeping to themselves.

  “What?” Kavan asked.

  “I’ve found Pirneon.”

  Aphere leaned in from across the table. “Where?”

  “He’s being hailed by the king. Word is he killed a few thieves and is now being considered a hero of the realm.”

  “For killing thieves?” Kavan questioned. “That doesn’t sound right. They must be up to some scheme.”

  “It seems he’s proclaimed himself the Knight Marshal of Gaimos and come with the intent of relieving Aradain of the werebeasts. I think he means to go to the ruins alone.”

  Fear edged Barum’s voice.

  “Pah!” Geblin snorted.

  “He’ll be killed,” Aphere exclaimed before remembering where she was. “We have to stop him before it’s too late.”

  Kavan rapped his knuckles on the table. He regretted getting them involved on this quest. He should have lived up to his title and done this alone. “How? Pirneon is a good man, but he’s stopped listening to reason. He’s changed somehow along the course of our journey. He’s not the man who taught you, Barum. Not any longer.”

  Aphere protested. “We have an obligation to protect our own.”

  “He abandoned us. Destiny has a place for us all. Ours lies separately.”

  They mulled the concept in silence.

  Aphere broke the mood and asked, “What’s our next move?”

  Kavan shrugged. “I don’t know. The rest of the weapons should be finished tomorrow. That gives us six days until time runs out.”

  “The situation isn’t quite as perilous as the desert was,” she replied. She was tired, almost lost. A small part of her wanted to cave now and rejoin Kistan on the shores of Thuil Lake. The loss of the Knight Marshal and his denouncing of her abilities drained on her hope reserves.

  Barum looked at her quizzically. “In what way?”

  “We know who our enemy is.”

  Kavan disagreed. The werebeasts were a convenient scapegoat and surely responsible for multiple deaths, but they had to be controlled. Someone was holding their leash. The question failed to produce answers.

  “The monsters have to come from somewhere.”

  “Could it be the nexus is already opening? Releasing them into our world?” Aphere asked.

  “I don’t see how. The dark gods are supposedly locked away for all eternity.”

  “That means they have agents here in Rantis,” Barum said.

  “Making our task more difficult,” Kavan added. “We not only have to fight werebeasts but find this agent before it’s too late.”

  “I knew it!” Geblin cursed. “You people are going to be the death of me. I need another drink.”

  “Speaking of drinks, where is our drunk friend?” Aphere asked. She was anxious to change the subject, lest those demons continued crawling up her spine.

  Kavan gave a half-hearted smile. “Passed out in the room, I imagine. There’s no way he can get out.”

  “Unless he breaks the door down.”

  “Or goes out the window,” Geblin added.

  Aphere laughed. “After the other night, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

  “Damn near had a heart attack,” Kavan said.

  They sat and drank for a while longer. Conversations never ranged back to Gessun Thune or the dead. They tried to think of mirth and old times, when all of this was unimaginable. Geblin remained true to form, griping the entire time. In his own way, the Gnome eased tensions. Eventually, all talk faded, and they decided to retire to their rooms. Kavan was about to push away from the table when a dangerous looking man entered.

  His demeanor gave the Gaimosian pause. He was a killer. Two more entered behind and took flanking positions. Definitely killers, Kavan decided. He dropped his hand down to his sword and waited as they stalked to him. The first man took a seat across from Kavan
and stared hard.

  “You the Vengeance Knights?”

  Kavan stiffened. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

  The leader laughed. “You killed enough of my men for me to know otherwise.”

  “Fist,” Aphere exclaimed from the stairwell and reached for her sword.

  “Stay your hand, Gaimosian. We didn’t come here for a fight.”

  “What do you want then? To taunt us before resuming your bounty?” Kavan asked.

  “Nothing of the sort. My name is Pharanx Gorg, captain of the Fist. Yes, we were hired to kill you….”

  “Didn’t do a good job of it,” Geblin mocked.

  Pharanx bit back on his anger and continued, “But our motives were purely monetary. We’re mercenaries, not assassins. You were just a job. That contract is now absolved.”

  Kavan didn’t particularly care. “You’ve come to make nice? Is that it? I can recall killing at least five of your men myself.”

  “As I said, we are not assassins. Matters have changed here. My people are being hunted down, killed where they stand. Rantis has become an evil place,” Pharanx explained.

  “We know all of this,” Kavan replied. “Do not come to us seeking forgiveness. There is none to be had.”

  Pharanx smirked back, finding a sudden liking for the character of the man he’d hunted for weeks. “Perhaps you should let me explain what has transpired since your arrival in Aradain.”

  He waited until he had their full attention before continuing.

  “There’s no reason for him to be telling us the truth,” Aphere cautioned.

  Kavan sat on the small cot, hands in his face, hoping to take away some of the compounding stress. A lifetime of hardship told him it was a futile gesture. “What choice do we have?”

  They’d left the common room shortly after the Fist commander finished his tale. Naturally, their first instinct was to discount everything the mercenary said. They’d been mortal enemies until this point. Kavan had his own doubts towards the situation. The tone in Pharanx’s voice and his demeanor whispered truths. Not for the first time during this ill-advised adventure he found himself mired in confusion.

  “This is a dangerous game we’re playing, Kavan,” she continued. “There is too much intrigue, even for us.”

  “I thought you said this was less dangerous than the desert?” he brought up in a lame attempt at humor.

  “What I said has little meaning anymore if this Fist is telling the truth. Do you really thing the king is involved?”

  Kavan shrugged. “Possibly. Either way, our list of enemies has changed again. The whole of the kingdom may well be in league with this mystery advisor.”

  “I wish Pharanx had been able to give a name,” she said.

  He forced a laugh. “That would make it too easy.”

  She agreed. “What’s our next move?”

  “I go to check on the weapons in the morning. You and Barum see what you can learn on the streets. If this plays out right, we’ll ride out to meet with Gorg at dusk. I have the feeling we’re going to need as much help as we can get.”

  He bade her good night and retired to his room. Sleep was a long time in coming.

  FORTY-TWO

  Phirial

  Phirial swept the floor in the main showroom with a smile on her face. Thoughts of the dashing Vengeance Knight entertaining her. Her father was in the back, stoking the furnace for the day’s work. Every day was the same grueling process. They started not long after sunup and finished well after dark. She occasionally snuck dreams of a different life but was never able to figure out what it would look like. Working with her father was honest but trying. It definitely made her stronger, a well-balanced woman.

  That balance had shifted immeasurably when Kavan strode into their shop. She’d taken an instant liking to his handsomeness. While he was the best-looking man she’d seen, he also had a charming demeanor. She caught herself wondering what was beneath those worn clothes more than once. Every time Nik asked why her cheeks were flushed, she passed it off as heat from the furnace.

  Phirial knew today was just another in an endless stream, except for Kavan coming back to check on his order. She’d gone to great lengths to wash her hair and find a dress both appealing and practical for working in the forge. Nik, for his part, knew exactly what she was up to. He remembered being smitten with a young lass on more than one instance before meeting her mother. Happiness was hard to come by in these dark times. His only concern stemmed from her being hurt. He’d lived almost a decade without his lovely wife, and the loss continued to pain him every day. Nik prayed to the gods that they kept her well.

  “Come, now, father,” she told him merrily, “Our customers should be here soon.”

  He hid his smile. “It’s just another sale, Phirial. There’s nothing special about these blades. Is the front clean?”

  “Spotless,” she confirmed.

  He could say what he wanted, but she knew the truth. They’d spent more hours on these weapons than any other. It was as if the blades were being forged to serve higher purpose. Phirial was proud of her father’s dedication to his craft. Though Kavan might never say it, she knew he was going to take those blades up to the monster pit and rid Rantis of them once and for all.

  Nik nodded once. “Good. Now finish those inventories before they arrive. I expect these people to take their merchandise and leave soon enough, but what I don’t want is to be caught short. There’s two extra sacks of caltrops and about a hundred crossbow bolts in the back.”

  “I’ll go and put them by the counter,” Phirial volunteered.

  Her father grunted his approval before returning to the forge. Plunging the cast iron poker into the smoldering coal, he figured they would be hot enough to work with by late morning. Nik felt old today. He watched the embers with limited interest. Lethargy settled in. He wasn’t sure why. On the contrary, his life had been going well recently. Demand for his products boomed with the announcement of each hunt. So what was the problem now?

  He didn’t have an answer. The question never changed, though. He’d been asking himself the same thing since his wife’s death. None of his success bore meaning. If it hadn’t been for Phirial, he was convinced he would have taken his own life. She was all that was important to him now. Nothing else mattered. If he didn’t have her….

  Nik let the thought pass. More important issues consumed him these days. His biggest concern came from the Gaimosians. Until a few days ago, his business had been filled with glory seekers and bounty men. He wasn’t sure what to make of the Gaimosians yet. The old stigma applied. Having so many in Rantis would eventually lead to trouble. He exhaled slowly and went to work. Life was always simpler with a hammer in hand. The Gaimosians would come, take their weapons, and be gone. With any luck, that is.

  She knew she was wrong for acting like a smitten teenager hoping for her first kiss. Phirial spent half the morning scolding herself and the other half-stealing peeks out the front window. Nik knew better than to interfere with the affairs of a woman, even one so young as his daughter. Glad her father chose to leave her alone, Phirial grew restless. Where was he? The question burned. She cleaned and cleaned again in frustration. At least her struggling desires produced positive results. She was almost about to give up when she spied Kavan’s confident swagger marching down the street. Less than an hour had passed.

  Kavan entered the smith with his casual smile and bowed pleasantly. He tried not to let her see how his eyes drank in her beauty. That would have produced much embarrassment on both sides. No doubt, her father had a sword nearby in the event the knight grew a little too familiar. That particular scenario had played out too many times in the past, and he had no desire to live through it again. Phirial was in her mid-twenties and capable of making her own decisions, or so he hoped.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She returned his smile. “Good morning to you, Sir Kavan.”

  He winced. “Please, there is no ‘sir.’
I’m just a man, much like your father.”

  The bitterness in her smile lessened. “My apologies. Were you able to test your new weapons?”

  “We had a fair demonstration, yes.”

  “Are they adequate?”

  He nodded. “More than adequate. We’re looking forward to seeing the rest of them soon.”

  “You and the woman?”

  There was no mistaking her meaning. Phirial was jealous of Aphere. Kavan tried to keep from rolling his eyes. This was the last thing he needed. Both were attractive. Where one was innocent and sweet, the other was, well, a trained killer with a seldom-seen vulnerable side. He didn’t have any illusions about Aphere anymore. His feelings had shifted to Phirial. What he didn’t need was any jealous interference that might jeopardize the quest.

  “Aphere, yes,” he confirmed. “She is a Gaimosian Knight, as am I.”

  “I see.”

  Point of fact, she didn’t see, and she was already hard at work on figuring out how to make him hers.

  “Is your father in?” Kavan asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “He’s in the back. I’ll fetch him for you.”

  He watched her go with new interest. The way her simple dressed hugged her curves was enough to stir the fire in any man. Phirial was truly a lovely woman, one he might even see himself settling down with once this nasty affair was ended. Kavan let his gaze shift to the weapons lining the back wall. Each was exquisitely crafted, the sign of a true master. Nik and his daughter were thoroughly dedicated to their craft, speaking volumes for their work.

  Nik emerged, wiping his hands free of the charcoal stain. “Phirial tells me you approve of my work.”

  Kavan shook his hand. “Indeed. We’re anxious to get the rest. Your skills are perhaps among the best I’ve seen in all Malweir.”

  “Your words honor us.”

  “I merely speak the truth,” Kavan replied.

  Nik nodded. “The rest of your order is complete. I’ve thrown in a few extras for good measure. I’m guessing you’ll be needing them.”