by Nelson, J P
Have you ever bounced off of the side of a wall? I did, before my feet even hit the ground, and it hurt. He was actually waiting for me as I landed on my feet and kicked me, I can’t remember how, twice, and then spun about and kicked me with an outside crescent kick. Yup, I went down. But I was up straightway and *Slowed* everything down, saw an opening through those weaving hands, and went in for a shooting takedown. Only, he countered it ... how did he do that? He caught my motion and hooked me into his own throwing movement.
We both went down and rolled free of each other, but his back was to me for an instant. So I vaulted high with intent to catch him as he turned in a flying clothesline movement I often used on big opponents. Instead, he turned at the last moment and ducked down and low … he knew I was coming.
I went over him and hit the ground with my hands and into a roll; at the same time he rolled under me and came up on his feet, pivoting we faced each other from twenty feet apart. I was getting really tired and just wanted to walk away, he gracefully waved his hands into a perfect Single Whip and Cat Stance posture. We looked at each other for a long moment, each of us poised in our own ready fighting stance. And then he took a deep breath and asked with a highly cultured accent, “Good Sir,” he gave a slight shake of his head, “if you wish, we can do this for as long as you desire. But if you don’t mind, I really need to go take a pee.”
Taking a breath of my own, I suddenly let down my weary arms and said in return, “Mister, all I wanted was a drink or two and something to eat.”
Letting his own arms down, I thought a heard a faint chuckle from the man. He seemed to tongue the inside of his teeth, presumably to make sure nothing was broken, and then he gave a somewhat stern glance at the big fellow and asked, “Ti-i-n-N-N-Y?!”
Tiny was sitting on a water trough and looked at the man meekly, “I’m sorry Capt’n, I was only meanin’ a jolly.” He motioned to me, “But he took it a bit personal.”
Captain? I looked at this man; he was maybe thirty to forty, my height or better, lean but hard and very neat. He had on common sailor’s clothes and knee high boots with a cloth twisted into a headband; he wasn’t dressed in the way of most ship captains. Glancing at me he asked, “If I tender the cost of your refreshment, may we call this a square?” He held his hands out in query.
Suddenly I wasn’t mad anymore, if anything I felt somewhat sheepish. I nodded, words having for the moment escaped me.
The man, captain, saw someone in the crowd and said, “Bannock, take care of this gentleman, will you?” He then turned back to me and tilting his head, said, “My apologies, Good Sir.” And then he walked over to talk to Tiny.
Bannock milled his way through the crowd, which was already heading back into the Boot. He was the same fellow who had slid me the ale; a tassel-haired human of average height, moving with a cat-like fluid motion and a casual, curious smile that hinted of mischievousness and intelligence. Right away I could tell he was the type who liked to know that you knew that he knew things, but wouldn’t tell you what they were.
Bannock got near me and cordially asked, “You okay?” His accent was definitely not from the open seas, Shudoic I was thinking.
“Yeah, yeah …” I said. Looking at Tiny I said, “… he called him Captain …”
Bannock sort of stared at me, amused but not offending, “Yes, he did.” Bannock glanced from me to the captain, and then back to me, “Captain Jha’Ley …” he paused to see if the name rang a bell in my mind, I was startled as he added, “Captain Jann Raul Jha’Ley …”
I was mortified, “… of the Lohra Lai?” Sailors and mainland merchants alike spoke of this man in tones of awe and respect, and I had just swung on him like a common ruffian.
Bannock smiled cordially as he put a cloak around my shoulders, “The one and only.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. This day was not getting any better.
___________________________
On the third morning after the incident, I was in my room packing my things when I heard a knock on the door. Nobody had ever knocked unless in response to my bell rope, so I was curious. The recent fight in the Whiskin Boot had led me to believe it was time to move on. City life didn’t agree with me, anyhow, but where was I going to go? Maybe I should charter a vessel and return to Aeshea, I was still thinking. What was important, though, was that my reflexes were way off and I was becoming, had become, as surely as a Bourneshire Bull on the prod.
Walking to the door I focused, and could make out the scent of Bannock. Now, how did he know where to find me? Opening the door he wasted no time in saying, “Good afternoon. You got a minute?”
Well, I had all the time in the world. So I said, “I might have a couple of minutes to spare, why?” Have you ever known anyone who already knows the answers, but they act like they don’t really know, but it dawns on you they really know? It gets on your nerves, doesn’t it? I was starting to feel that way about Bannock, and I didn’t even know him.
“An old friend has extended you an invitation for lunch, today, in two hours, at room six of the Orange Buster.”
The Orange Buster? What friend, I thought? Here in Foljur? I had no one that I would actually call a friend anywhere close to here, let alone who could afford one of the private eating rooms of the Orange Buster. With me living high in the honey jar, I still hadn’t gone there … and Bannock was telling me … “Who,” I asked, “what friend?”
He flashed a slight, mischievous, knowing, yet benign smile and said, “Shall I convey your intent to join?”
Honestly speaking, my curiosity was up … and I had yet to visit the Orange Buster. If I could charter my way back to anywhere in Aeshea I would probably never be this way again, so-o-o … I said, “Yes. I will be there.”
Bannock gave me a courteous nod and I returned it. Then he turned and seemed to whisk his way down the hall. Watching him walk reminded me of a big cat effortlessly moving without being heard.
An old friend, eh? My first thought was that Wilfred had come to visit, but it made no sense. This was the peak of one of the fishing seasons and he would be busy at that. Could it be Jude, maybe? We had been sort of friendly, but not really chums. For a brief moment I thought of the old man in the meadow, Edgar. Now, he had been a strange one, but I liked him.
Alright, I was wasting time. My eye caught the last of my new clothing I had yet to wear. Why not?
When I arrived at the Orange Buster it was beautiful outside. The sun was perfect, wind just right, and the smells coming from within whetted the appetite. I wore a black satin shirt, light blue breeches, and a black sash. Instead of my dagger, I carried a brand new bone handled rapier in my sash. The dagger was inside my right boot. And for the first time in many years, instead of my moccasins I was wearing custom made polished black boots which came up to the knee and folded down. As I said, they were custom made with a little surprise or two, and it had taken the master several days to make them. I had only received them the day before.
There was no point in having such fine boots made if I wasn’t going to wear them at least once. Much of the previous evening had been spent with me trying to infuse them with all the energy I had. I didn’t know what good it would do, but it was worth a shot. They already felt as if they were broken in.
I wasn’t in the woods, I told myself over and over, and they did feel good. They were made of Rhino Shark hide and guaranteed to last a lifetime … I had smiled at that one. They would at least make nice dress up boots for a long while. Overall, I looked pretty snappy and enjoyed more than one fair lass taking notice. A couple of those ladies I took notice of myself.
At the front desk stood an elegantly dressed lady who I presumed was in charge. The twinkle of ear jewelry earned my attention, and by the design of it I thought to take the chance. I said, “Etro fahl niumvwe. Pirl tau hoit unso ses, ãnye?”
For a moment I had caught her off guard, and I was pleased to have guessed correctly. Vedoic was not exactly uncommon in these parts, but not freque
nt. Yet only someone from the town of Merceil would appreciate the Merceil dialect of Vedoa. It was considered the purest form of Vedoic, and a romantic language. I simply had complimented the lady on her ear-rings, which bore the Seal of Merceil, and asked if she could direct me to room six. Sometimes the little touches are the most powerful.
With a most pleasant smile she replied, “Moh stãcia.” She turned and in the local tongue asked a fellow to please escort me to the room. As he started to lead the way I saw her seek my eye, and she passed me a subtle wink … and being a gentleman, I of course returned the gesture.
The decorum was exquisite, just enough to accent the architecture, and the architecture itself was an art. From the main floor, the next level was open seating next to a balcony with semi-closed in booths around the wall. The next floor up had all enclosed rooms of various sizes with names, not numbers. Up above was a series of rooftop seating arrangements. My mysterious friend had opted for privacy, I presumed, and so had reserved one of the third level rooms.
Standing in front of room six, I tipped the attendant and opened the door. The room was medium sized and could have handled a party of eight or ten easily. A mahogany table set for two was off to one side of the room, a fireplace was casting light without heat, and leather lounge chairs and a sofa were arranged on the other side of the room. Between the chairs was a thick, woven rug with a glass-topped table at center, a bowl of fruit on the table.
Before walking in I could sense there was only one person in the room, and I could vaguely recall the scent. The memory reached way back in my mind and as I walked in I saw the back of a stately man surveying a painting on the wall. He was of medium height and build, dark hair pulled back into the long ponytail often worn by sailors, and his dark suit was well fitted.
Hesitating as I closed the door, a slow smile crossed my face as the figure turned and I saw Wesney standing before me. His smooth face and relaxed smile took in my own visage as if he wanted to make sure it was really I. The quiet of the moment held long and full with only the sound of the crackling fire, and then his smile beamed as nodding and shaking his head he said, “By the Winds of Torsham, it really is you, Major!”
The awkwardness was evident as we walked across the floor and grasping forearms he said, “It is you …” He became exuberant as he dropped all formality and gave me a strong embrace. Not sure what to say, I embraced him in return. Wesney was yet another I had thought was dead … but he wasn’t, he was here, how …?
Pulling back he grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me up and down, “By Zaeghun’s Lair, man. Look at you.” Inquisitively and with animation he said, “We thought you were dead. Commanders Lahrcus and Ander had patrols looking all over for you.” He breathed a nervous breath, “All that was found was a, was a burned skeleton and your side-pouch by the ruin south and east of Brosman Iron Mine.”
Wesney had always been one to talk in animation and to use his hands. He paced a moment, agitated, as if exasperated with himself and then said, “When I heard of the Wolf of Timbers fighting in Dahruban, and that he, you, were supposed to fight that monster Karthanook, I tried to get there as fast as I could from Shudoquar. But then the word was you had escaped a sinking boat and attacked a merchant caravan, murdering five men gruesomely.”
He looked at me with concern, “Did you know there is, or at least was, a huge reward out for you.” He paced again and turned to me, “They even sent Ahjokus after you. I spent months trying every place I could imagine in an attempt to find you.”
Wesney stood in thought with one hand over his mouth and the other behind his back, and then he gave me a glance of irony and said, “Your name is on the lips of every countryman around the Alburin Sea and into the north as the only person to escape Ahjokus. They say the Wolf of Timbers is the same as Killer Koyle, and, and before that Gojai Dianbo.” He started to wipe his forehead back over his head and paused at the top, then finished rubbing down the back of his neck … a mannerism I had forgotten, but was somehow pleased to see.
With a fully perplexed expression he asked, “What happened?”
I had been walking a bit around the room, looking at paintings and decorations as he talked, and then turned to face my old friend and associate. My mouth open to begin, he suddenly jumped and crouched with his hands splayed open toward me and exclaimed, “Oh my kosh!” Looking anxiously to the table and a silver wine bucket and back at me, he said while springing to the table, “I’m so sorry … I forgot …”
Wesley took a bottle out of the ice, the top already open to get air, and poured two glasses of aged Vambrolini. With a glass in each hand and a genuine smile of sincerity, he approached me and said, “Please, forgive. I forgot myself.”
Alternating from sitting, walking about the room, enjoying the finest cuisine I had ever eaten, and back to the sitting area to take cigars and coffee … I told Wesney my tale in its entirety, and he told me his.
Inside the Pyramid, Ander had led the force deeper into the place and found all sorts of adversaries. Hoscoe had gotten inside with him and Wesney had been right there all the way. When the structure had trembled, Hoscoe had sounded the call to retreat. They just made it off of the base when a huge explosion sent sheets of flame out of all sorts of places about the Pyramid.
The main door, an opening from under that fin-like ridge in the back, and up at the top, shot gouts of fire and debris that made everyone think of a volcano. Wesney said the water was still flowing, the last he heard, but the Pyramid was listed as a place to leave alone. The huge diamonds had been removed from the statue that fell over, however, and taken.
Y’nesia, the Shaman Lady, had pointed my men to two different doorways based on their position. Dudley and Patriohr had ducked into one, but T-bone had to grab and throw Izner into the other as he was trying to get to me. Dud and Patriohr came out of a southeastern ruin eight weeks later and ran into Lahrcus at the South Mine.
T-bone took the brunt of the explosion to the back as he pushed Izner into the doorway. He and Izner came through a pit inside of where Meidra’s Temple complex had been only days after Aldivert had claimed the throne. The place was sealed up, but the explosion went through there and reopened a tunnel leading outside the city walls. T-bone was dead, but Izner was able to get out before guards could come and check the incident. Izner said it had rocked the ground pretty hard so that the official word was that there had been a land-quake.
It had been Izner who had found Riana, learned what was going on, and got her and her family, Lafia, and Tancine out of the city and away. That had been an adventure in itself and Wesney assured me it had been well documented. When Phostein’s body had been found, it was assumed it was mine. Riana, however, wouldn’t accept it for a long time.
I grew quiet for a while at the mention of Riana’s name. Swishing the bottom of his glass, downing it, and then filling it once more, Wesney breathed a heavy sigh and said gently, “She stayed loyal to you, you know. Well, I guess you don’t know, but she did. She … wore the clothes of mourning for two years … kept looking at the stars and talked about The Archer, looking across the horizon and watching for you to come back.
“You need to know the relationship between her and King Patriohr began very innocently. At least I would want to know that.”
I said nothing, just looked across my glass and remembered. But, yes, I did want to know.
Wesney adjusted his seat and said, “She was the one to suggest his taking back the throne. She said, ‘Timber Wolf would have done it. Are you going to waste his sacrifice and success?’ And you know, that’s when the movement really started; the movement to reclaim the throne, I mean. Because before that, we were living in exile trying to determine just what the best course of action would be.
“The core of us; Lahrcus, Ander, Dudley, Izner, Merle, Riana, and even Tancine stood by him and organized the campaign which had to be fast acting. Patriohr, he, he came alive when he realized everyone was behind him. He accepted the role and you woul
d have been proud to be there, Major. It took us a little over a year, but when we went in it was clean and smooth. Nobody liked Aldivert as king and he was vengeful against anyone still supporting Chitivias’s legacy.
“Patriohr personally challenged Aldivert as the rightful heir apparent, and soundly beat him at swords in a fight that continued into the very streets. As Aldivert lay there dying, Patriohr gave the credit of his skill at arms to you, sir.
“Patriohr made Lahrcus his personal advisor, Ander became Commander of the Army, Maedhith was promoted to Commander of the Cavalry, Dudley was placed in charge of weapon developments with Merle as his second, and Tancine married Izner who became Chief of Kiubejhan Security.”
Wesney drank his cup and turning to a decanter of brandy poured a glass. He started to take it to taste, but thought better of it and lowered the glass and took it in both hands. It seemed he was uneasy to tell me everything, but he had nerve and was going to give me all of it. Only a true friend and person of honor would be as honest and upfront.
“Riana went in under arms …” I looked sharply at him, he hesitated and then continued, “… she said she had learned from you, and she had as much right to fight as anyone. She took out sixteen men, all by her own blade. I was, I was beside her the whole time and she …” he chuckled in astounded memory, “… she was really inspiring, I have to say.”
Wesney saw my steady gaze and quickly collected himself and became serious. “Anyway …” he fidgeted and I could tell it was hard for him. I finished my own coffee and poured myself some brandy, it was a drink I had yet to try.
Wesney continued, “… after the coronation, they, King Patriohr and Riana, they started spending time together. Mostly it was formal dinners and such … She decided to move on in support of the kingdom. The notion of a proper queen, a legitimate heir … the people were all very favorable of it … and it only seemed right, you know … after all …”