by A L Hardy
The wizard only groaned slightly in response.
"Captain," Tennlka asked, "Where was he found?"
The young captain stepped forward to report, "With a mounted hunting party, all wearing Delgund's seal; about five miles south of Griffon's Hollow."
"Prepare every available soldier we have to march." Tennlka instructed before turning back to the mage, "So he's hiding in Griffon's Hollow? Quite defendable, but it gets its name for a reason."
The drug was wearing out of the wizard's system, and Tennlka saw that his chance was coming. Sweat beaded across his palms and forehead as he continued to goad the wizard.
"Tell me," Tennlka coaxed, "How long do you think they'll hold out? Griffon's Hollow only has a handful of entry points, and the griffons can be easily goaded into attacking anything inside the Hollow."
"Wo.... men..." the wizard mumbled past his fat tongue, "Chil...dren..."
Tennlka smirked at the wizard with twisted derision, "Just for your concern, I will personally ensure that all the women and children are treated just as well as Delgund himself. They can all share his traitor's gallows."
The threat was the last piece Tennlka needed. As the wizard contorted with rage, his emerald green eyes glazed purple and Tennlka's scepter slammed painfully into the wizard's rib cage. The wizard screamed with pain as Tennlka used the enchantments within the scepter to compress the fireball the wizard had prepared into a storm of electrical fury that danced from his head to his toes. Tennlka removed the scepter as its effect had expired and when the wizard's eyes opened again, only his irises were purple.
"Magic is illegal, wizard," Tennlka snapped, "Or perhaps you had forgotten?"
"You... cow... ard..." the wizard mumbled, still trying to talk past his fat tongue.
Tennlka shook his head, "Ah yes, and famous last words. But they carry no weight when they are only spoken on the death bed of the defeated."
The wizard's eyes glazed purple again and Tennlka slammed the scepter back into his ribs. The wizard had already prepared a blast of air to throw Tennlka back into his guards, but the King unraveled his work and reformed it. Countless emotions flowed at the King's command, through the wizard, as he wrought the complex weave that so few wizards ever used. As he completed his work, Tennlka looked up to the wizard; fear was evident on his face as he saw the King's plan.
"No... anything... else..." the wizard complained.
"I thought so," Tennlka responded as he caught the wizard's gaze. Tennlka cast the spell and felt the ward inch along his skin, underneath his clothes, from his feet all the way up to his head, as the life drained from the wizard's face and eyes.
As the spell finished its course around Tennlka's face, the wizard's head slumped into his final rest. Tennlka turned coldly from the dangling corpse and pushed past his soldiers.
"Captain!" Tennlka barked as he stormed out of the dungeon, "It appears that I will not need the extra clothing that I sent for; commend your man for his haste when he returns. How many men would you need to blockade Griffon's Hollow?"
The young captain ran along behind Tennlka, processing the request as he did so. "Two Units?" he uncertainly replied.
"Take the twelfth regiment as soon as they are ready to march again, they are five Units - eighteen hundred strong." Tennlka ordered.
"As you command, my Lord."
Chapter 5
Together, the Dragons created the Kin. First the Sea-Kin, who worshipped Toug; then the High-Kin, worshippers of Rylvia; and finally the Desert-Kin, faithful of Altavar.
*
It had been several days since his first lesson in Focusing. Jurod wasn’t sure how many; he had lost count with the exhaustion that came with nearly constant training in both the sword and magic. Today, on the other hand, looked to be bright and was turning pleasantly warm as the morning wore into afternoon.
Jurod’s muscles ached from the rigorous training Xardan and Ilays put him through. He suffered in silence as he rode, letting his mind drift from the beauty of Ilays’s long silver hair and the odd blue and purple leaved trees in a sharp line on the horizon to his right.
“Are you listening, Jurod?” Xardan snapped.
Ilays chuckled from ahead of them as Xardan continued reprimanding Jurod. In spite of himself, Jurod was only able to smile at Xardan’s lecture.
“Now please, this is the last time I will explain, Ebenhart is a much different city than Erethil. The Northern Riders control the citadel and the surrounding areas, but their loose hold on the city has served as a breeding ground for countless small clans. Everyone in Ebenhart will be wearing a tabard declaring themselves to one clan or another; this is how every major city in Strolm is run. Keep your sword loose in its scabbard and your power less than a breath away; be ready to fight.”
“Why do those trees have blue and purple leaves?” Jurod asked, completely ignoring Xardan’s explanation.
“A better question is ‘why don’t any other trees in the world have properly colored leaves?’” Ilays retorted, “That is the border of Reth, my homeland. Green is such an unnatural color for plants.”
The sounds of clashing steel rang from the east as the party approached Ebenhart. Ilays had spurred her horse forward in response to the din half a league before the Knights heard the battle, though the Knights stayed close behind as she raced into presumed silence. When they rounded the last bend Jurod was shocked at the violent scene before him.
The city of Ebenhart was a fortress. Black shingled, gray stone towers were all that were visible over the tall gray stone walls; each tower bore a yellow flag with two rearing black horses positioned to face each other. The road that the party was on led straight to the fight in the west gate of Ebenhart. A dozen fighters wore tabards identical to the flags atop the towers; their two dozen oppressors all wore tabards of various other colors and symbols that never seemed to recur on two soldiers.
As fast as Jurod could analyze the situation, Ilays and Xardan were charging forward, weapons in hand. With a curse muttered under his breath, Jurod pulled two of his knives and followed. The fray had nearly ended when the three companions jumped in. The defenders in yellow tabards were outnumbered and overwhelmed by their attackers. Half had fallen while the party was approaching and the attackers were pushing against the few that remained.
Ilays arrived first into the fray and struck one attacker as she jumped off her horse and dropped into a crouch against the impact of her land. Shifting from her landing, Ilays struck another as she stood and then spun both blades to strike a third.
Xardan entered the fray just behind Ilays, slashing down from his warhorse at two attackers on his right before stabbing at one attacker on his left. Two more attackers rushing at Xardan met bolts of shadow lightning as they jumped from the Knight’s sword.
The newcomers took the attackers aback and the defenders took advantage of their hesitancy to launch a counter attack. When Jurod arrived at the gates breaths later, the situation had entirely changed. The defenders, still outnumbered, were in control now and were driving back the attackers.
Xardan and Ilays were leading the counterattack with the remaining defenders behind them. Xardan struck with masterful skill of the blade and power that he wielded as six more attackers fell before him. Ilays dove into a roll under an attacker’s blade and struck two down as she rose. A spin to her left claimed two more victims before she quickly dealt a kick at a third that had come too close; her blade slashed down at his chest as he staggered back. The attackers fought around Xardan and Ilays and fell on the defenders with renewed vigor. Jurod reined his charger to a halt and dismounted as the fray quieted.
Jurod stepped forward and lifted his blades, ready to throw at anyone who showed even the slightest bit of a target. Each of the defenders held an attacker at bay, Xardan was exchanging blows with two attackers and Ilays was holding back three. Jurod hesitated only a moment before throwing his two drawn daggers quickly at two of the men attacking Ilays, dropping them both within se
conds; this left Ilays free to drop her third. Xardan killed both of his, and five of the remaining defenders killed the attackers they were fighting. To Jurod’s right, the attacker swept his axe across the defender’s throat. He turned toward Jurod and brought his axe around. Jurod drew his sword quickly and used his blade to catch the axe in a middle guard and then shifted the bind down to expose his attacker.
Before Jurod could move to kill his opponent, the tip of Ilays’s scimitar protruded through his chest. When the attacker fell to the street, Ilays still stood on the far end of the gate from Jurod; her left hand still gripped her second scimitar though her right was now empty.
With the attackers all fallen, the defenders turned to Jurod and his companions with their weapons still drawn.
“Who are you?” one defender asked, “And why are you in Ebenhart?”
Jurod gripped his sword tighter and fingered another throwing knife with is off hand as he tried to stem his rising anger at the ungrateful soldier when Xardan’s laughter barked across the square.
“Stand down, soldiers,” Xardan commanded lightly, “We are allies today. I am Sir Xardan Ta’Caran, Knight of the Black Era. My companions are Ilays Greenbranch, of Narud, and Jurod Half-breed, of Ealthen’s Monastery.”
“An odd collection.” The soldier stated, “Why did you assist us?”
“As I said,” Xardan repeated, “We are allies today.”
“And what about tomorrow?” the soldier asked.
“That depends on you, Commander.” Xardan remarked coldly, “As long as you don’t make enemies of us, we’ll be your allies. Now, I am in need of some information. Should you provide it, we will remain trusted allies for the time being. I need to know if you or any of your men saw three men come through this gate together. One is a soldier and the other two are powerful spell casters, but they would probably be disguised.”
“No.” the soldier replied immediately, “it’s been a slow day today; you three are the first travelers we’ve had at all through this gate, aside from the group you just helped us dispatch.”
Jurod looked around at the fallen corpses and counted those that wore the defenders’ tabard.
“This is a lot of soldiers on post for a quiet day.” He commented as he retrieved his knives from the eye sockets of the two dead men and cleaned them off on their cloaks.
“And you can see what good it did us!” the soldier spat onto the corpse of a fallen foe.
Xardan ignored Jurod’s interruption as he continued addressing the soldier, “I need to know if the men we’re following came here, or if they turned off the road in favor of traveling to Strolm.”
“Each commander keeps a record of the visitors that come through on their post,” the soldier replied, “We then give them to the clerks up at the fortress when the next shift starts. They file them in case the Watch needs to find a specific person. We can track whether or not someone has fled the city that way. It’s effective, but not instantaneous.”
“Can anyone view those files or do you have to have special permissions?”
“Well, special permissions are required, but I also know that the skill you three demonstrated just now would get you into that room whether you have those permissions or not. So, in return for saving my men, I’ll get you access to everything you need.”
The soldier barked orders to a pair of his men and reassured them that he would send reinforcements when he got to the fortress. The soldier kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he lead Jurod and his companions through the city. The rising sounds of battle drifted over the city but the soldier didn’t seem to react as he moved hurriedly toward the citadel.
Upon arriving at the citadel gates, which were formidable and manned by over fifty men, they were accosted by a soldier with several marks of rank on his uniform.
“Commander, why have you left your post?!”
“We were attacked by twenty eight men at the west gate Sir. My men were well outnumbered and most of them died in the fray. I returned here to get reinforcements and to help the people who saved my few men that are left,” he said in a very formal tone as he gestured to the three standing next to him.
“Your men couldn’t defend against the attackers, but these three fended all of them off for you? I’m surprised you even dared admit that. I’ll throw you in the gallows for this outrage!”
The commander guiding the three laughed uproariously at that comment. “Just a thought, Major, but you should find out who my rescuers are before you start threatening to throw me in the gallows for being less qualified than they are.”
The Major before them was clearly taken aback by the turn of events and quickly recomposed himself. “Well then? Who are you three?”
“I am Sir Xardan Ta’Caran, Knight of the Black Era. This is Ilays Greenbranch, of Narud, and Jurod Half-breed, of Ealthen’s Monastery,” Xardan quickly responded.
“A Knight, a Lythrain, and a half-breed showed up just in time to save you and your men Commander? I still don’t believe that; it seems staged to me,” the Major said quickly.
“With all due respect, Major, your outrage is more of an act than my rescue. After all, our men have been saved by passersby before; even by Knights like I was today. But nobody has ever been attacked by three clans at the same time and outnumbered two to one at a single gate. This is the first real push the clans have made in over two years and my men and these three prevented that push from causing more lives to be lost.”
The Major in question turned very red in the face as he processed this last comment. Several seconds passed before the man had worked up a response.
“I’m sending an inquiry to the west gate. If ANY of what you said turns out to be untruth, you’ll be stripped of all rank and transferred to sewer duty for the remainder of the year!”
“And if that inquiry proves that I am correct, I want my pension doubled for the remainder of the year. No officer of my rank deserves to be treated like I have been today. And if it proves that I’m right, I intend to go straight to the General to explain your opinions about sewer duty for heroes. Come with me you three.”
The Captain gestured at the three behind him and they walked through the gate and into the Citadel proper before the other officer could say anything else. As they walked, Jurod began to notice that the army at Strolm seemed to be quite disciplined, but lacked a respect for authority. It was as though the person who had killed the most people ended up as the highest in command and the ones who were smart enough to retreat stayed where they were. It was a very confusing thing trying to come up with why a system like that would have been put in place. At the monastery, it was clear that Father Nikolas was the most capable man there. He wasn’t a seasoned killer like some of the guards had been, but he had more brains than any man there.
Jurod didn’t get much time to dwell on these thoughts before they were walking through another set of guard posts. These guards, however, simply nodded to the Captain and waved him through. They made their way farther into the citadel until they finally reached their objective.
The records were kept in a fairly large storeroom of the citadel’s library. There were four clerks wandering about the library with two stationed within the storeroom sorting through documents. It seemed as though every report for the entire kingdom came through these men. Several tables filled the room with reports lining every table. Just from glancing at the papers as he passed, Jurod noticed that most of the files were sorted into categories with the most recent pages in piles on a desk at the far side waiting for the clerks to file them.
“Which stack would have the travelers that arrived yesterday and today?” Xardan asked.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve never had much of an affinity for the job these clerks do. They really are the ones running this place. You there; will you please help these three find the information they’re looking for? Give them access to anything you would give me access to.”
“Of course, Captain. What can I do for you?”
the clerk asked. There was an air of knowledge surrounding the woman before them. She seemed not to be one of the higher ranked clerks, but obviously had a great deal of knowledge about everything that happened in this room.
“We’re looking for three men that may or may not have come through your gates over the past day. I’m assuming they would not have given their proper names, so we’ll likely have to search by hand for the descriptions of the men we’re looking for.”
“Yesterday’s reports are in those two stacks, what reports have come in from the morning shift will be in that pile. The afternoon shifts won’t have turned any reports in yet.” The clerk pointed to the stacks of paper that the group needed as she spoke. “Feel free to sort through them, and I’ll have the other clerks wait to get started on filing them until you’re done, but please be careful to keep them in the order they’re in. I’m happy to help out the Captain, but we won’t tolerate the three of you making a mess of these reports,” as she said this, she adopted a look that Jurod remembered well. It was the look the monks gave him every time he got into serious trouble back at the monastery. It was a look that told him that they didn’t care who the group was; they’d kick these three out if they put one report out of place.
Xardan nodded to the soldier who had accompanied them as he turned to leave then he and Ilays began sorting through the pages from the day before and Jurod began sorting through the reports from that morning.
“So as long as they haven’t arrived since mid-day they should be on the reports?” Jurod concluded.
“Correct.” The woman answered.
“And they were too far ahead of us not to be at least on the morning’s reports.” Ilays finished. “I don’t know if you can take care of things out of order, but you can have your clerks file away the reports that come in from the afternoon shift so we won’t be so much of a bother to your work.”
Nodding her understanding, the clerk left the group to their own devises and left to start sorting through yet more reports. After only a few minutes of reading, Jurod slowly noticed that his companions had their eyes locked on him. “Did I do something wrong?’