by A L Hardy
Since they were not in court or any noble function, Duryg had donned his clothing and armor crafted of fur and black dragon scales. They were crudely made, and Tennlka often objected to their appearance, but Duryg knew the quality of the dragon scales and insisted on wearing them whenever his appearance was not absolutely crucial to the event at hand.
After the attempt to free Xardan from Learth, Tennlka had insisted that the remainder of his time in the stocks be served in Faelhart. The Earl of Learth had always been an ally of Xardan's and everyone suspected him of organizing the effort, even without proof.
And so they left Learth for Faelhart with only a single night of preparation. Their caravan was slow; a fact that ate at Duryg's patience with every rotation of the wagon wheels. They had left behind the Earl of Learth and his soldiers, but they still marched with almost 500 of their own men. Ahead of Duryg, Tennlka rode in the King's carriage with his personally selected entertainment from Learth.
Leading Tennlka's carriage was three quarters of the mounted cavalry in their party, flying burgundy banners with the black eagle of Faelhart. Every rider held his lance in its saddle holster at an exact, practiced angle as they rode easily behind their Captain at the head of the caravan.
Behind Duryg was Xardan's prison wagon; with solid wood walls and a single, small window to each side. Inside, Xardan was watched by four guards that changed at regular intervals. Outside the prison wagon rode another four guards, only one of which had a key to the door. This key changed possession every fifteen minutes and the guard duty outside changed every hour. With each new change of the guard came another mug of water that Xardan was forced to drink, likely aware that it was the cause of his ailments.
Next rode the remaining quarter of the cavalry, riding as if the break in their squadron weren't there at all. Several wagons of supplies and rations followed, watched closely by the squadrons of archers and infantry that followed behind them.
The rear guard of the caravan was the recent acquisition of Trelir troops from Talar that arrived aback a massive bird called a Roc. With Talren riding at their head, this part of the caravan was a sore spot to Tennlka's eyes as he had been assured that no Trelir troops would be coming into Faelhart without his prior authorization.
Two of the massive roc flew circles high overhead with more Trelir soldiers and supplies, their shadows crossing the road at regular intervals.
And thus the King's escort traveled, with Xardan in tow, back to Faelhart. The blistering summer sun was high in the sky, still burning the last vestiges of summer heat out of the air. Even with wagons of supplies, the soldiers and horses were fatigued from marching in the heat, and delirious for lack of water.
The old man under the tree was ignored as the cavalry passed, but when he rose at the approach of Tennlka's carriage, he got Duryg's undivided attention.
“Stay where you are, old man!” Duryg ordered.
The old man leaned heavily on a gnarled, wood staff as he stumbled to a stop at the edge of the road. His long, thin hair was white and gray, and he wore a long bandage over his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was weak, raspy, and quiet.
“Fear not, young Duryg,” the old man wheezed, “Your King is in no trouble from me.”
Duryg's hand flexed on the haft of his large axe.
“Who are you?” Duryg asked.
A small, sly smile split the old man's face as he responded, “I am no more than a blind old man seeking the Knight of the Black Era.”
“And why do you seek Xardan?”
“He's late.” the old man stated simply, “I am here to remind him that he is otherwise engaged.”
Duryg regarded the man with odd amusement.
“Xardan Ta'Caran has been sentenced to death.” Duryg informed him, “Any other engagements of his will be missed.”
The old man was clearly startled, and a look of confusion passed over his mouth.
“No, no...” he stuttered, “Is he aware of this?”
“He attended the court in which he was sentenced.” Duryg stated.
“Ah...” the old man retorted, “But was he even aware enough to try and speak on his own behalf?”
The old man only waited for a moment for Duryg's response. When it didn't come he continued, “I think Xardan should have a chance to speak with a clear mind before he is killed, don't you agree?”
“Alright, old man,” Duryg agreed, “I'll put you in the wagon with him, and you can try to get that out of him as we march.”
With a snap of his arm, soldiers jumped to fill Duryg's unspoken order. The old man was bound and thrown into Xardan's wagon; yet his victorious smile never wavered.
Tennlka's voice shouted from his wagon about his apparent lack of movement, and three military commanders all started converging on Duryg. With another snap of his arm, Duryg and the caravan started moving again and the Tyrn took up his position once more.
*
Aramill didn't wake the next morning, and neither Jurod nor Ilays knew what Xardan had mumbled to him in the heat of the battle. They tied Aramill into his saddle and led his horse south until they arrived at a small, roadside inn sitting at a three-way intersection only half a day's easy ride from Learth. A small, storm gray drake lay sleeping in a ball near the porch, and Faelhart's black eagle on a burgundy field flew from atop a pole in the main yard, but they chose to risk staying anyway.
Without a stable boy coming out to greet them, Jurod took the risk of leaving the three horses and Aramill with a very exhausted Ilays while he went inside to find the innkeeper. The building was neatly furnished with extravagant furniture and rugs, yet there was no one in sight.
“Hello?” Jurod called, “Is anyone here?”
“Just a moment!” someone called from one of the back rooms, appearing only seconds later.
She was a plump woman, obviously having eaten well most of her life. Her dark hair was nearly gray with age, and pulled back neatly into a bun on the back of her head.
“Welcome! Welcome!” she piped happily as she took in Jurod's appearance, “Can I interest you in a room, Sir?”
“Two rooms please.” Jurod replied, “And three meals, and stables for three horses.”
“Of course!” she smiled, “Take the horses around the back and my son will stable them and show you to your rooms. I'll have your meals prepared and sent up shortly.”
Jurod bowed formally and turned back out to the main yard. Ilays and Aramill still waited right where Jurod had left them. Taking the reins of his mount, Jurod led the pair around to the stables the kind woman had told him about.
Inside the stables, a young boy of no more than ten summers hopped out of a stall, leaning heavily on a wooden crutch. His one missing leg did not seem to hamper his excited air at new horses arriving in his stables.
Jurod removed their bags as the young boy individually led the horses to stalls with practiced ease. As Jurod dropped all the bags to the ground and started untying Aramill, the boy gasped in undeniable recognition.
“A Lythrain!?” he exclaimed, visibly catching himself from shouting and covering his mouth with his one available hand. “Hurry and untie him, and get his bags off the horse!”
Jurod and Ilays had nearly completed the tasks he gave them before he had even recovered from the shock of the Trelir enough to speak them, so he was leading the last horse to the nearest stall as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
“Follow me!” he rushed, “Hurry!”
The boy hopped with his crutch at surprising speed, and Jurod had to request that the boy slow down. Between Ilays’ exhaustion from the two Travelling spells she had cast the day before and Jurod carrying Aramill, they couldn’t even keep up with this crippled boy.
Finally, the group made it up the stairs and into a room at the back of a hallway, with the young lad waving them hurriedly in.
“Come on! Come on!” he panted, “Before someone else comes and sees him!”
After ushering them into the room, he cast a
quick glance around before returning downstairs. Only moments later, the kind woman Jurod had met earlier arrived with their meals.
She slammed the plates onto the table in the room as she spat, “What are you thinking bring a Lythrain this far into Faelhart!? And bringing him into my inn without an invitation at that!”
Jurod and Ilays were both on their guard, ready to retort, but the innkeeper calmed down before they could speak.
“I'm sorry,” she said, “But I thought these days were behind me. I was caught off guard when Zoan said there was a Lythrain here; and this is a Trelir besides… that boy needs to learn his races better.”
“These days?” Ilays asked, “What days?”
The innkeeper looked stunned as she took in Jurod and Ilays, “Don't you know who I am?” She asked, “Didn't you bring him here so that I can get him... taken care of?”
“No.” Jurod replied simply.
The innkeeper was visibly confused as she tried to process everything that was being said, but Ilays made all the connections first.
“You were part of the smuggling ring to get the Lythrain out of Faelhart!”
The innkeeper glanced around the room before nodding quickly.
Jurod felt Ilays Focus, and the pain from days earlier returned as Ilays worked her magic. By the reaction on the innkeeper's face, Jurod knew his appearance was his own again.
“I am Ilays.” she confessed, slumping to the bed from casting the spell.
The innkeeper's eyebrows furrowed and her forehead creased, “Ilays Greenbranch?”
Ilays nodded in reply and shock was evident on the innkeeper's face.
The innkeeper fell to her knees and stuttered on as she talked, “It is an immeasurable honor, Ilays!”
“Stop!” Ilays barked, “Now is not the time! These two are my companions, Jurod Silvergem, Squire to Sir Xardan Ta'Caran, and Aramill Goldenfields of Talar, Paladin of the Pacifist.”
The innkeeper was back on her feet almost instantly at the mention of Xardan Ta'Caran.
“Yes,” she stated, “I should have known that for two Lythrain and a half-breed to appear on my doorstep after all these years, he would be behind it!
“I am Myrin,” she continued, “I have been a good friend of Xardan's for many years. That aside, I did notice you left your bags in the stable. If any of you are seen, we’ll all be in a great deal of trouble. I’ll have them moved up here for you. Please stay within your rooms. If there is anything that I can do to help you, just say the word!”
“You know Xardan well?” Jurod confirmed, and Myrin nodded her reply. “We are looking for something that he was supposed to leave for us somewhere that we all think of as safe, but there is no such place that comes to mind. Do you know where he may have left it?”
Myrin shook her head slowly as she pondered the question.
“I only know that once, Xardan was supposed to meet a wagon to take with his escort into Reth. Only he was detained, and instead had a single drop delivered here. The drop's magic drew its holder to the matching drop anywhere in the world, and Xardan had left it where there would be a weakness in Faelhart's lines and the wagon could get through without him.
“He has very... creative methods.” Myrin stated.
Jurod and Ilays both snapped to look at each other with stark realization on both of their faces.
“We have to go!” Ilays exclaimed as she wearily got off the bed, “Can you care for Aramill until we return?”
Ilays and Jurod both moved to leave the room and head back to the stables as Myrin replied, “Of course!”
*
The wagon was uncomfortable as it jostled the soldiers around. Jaysin was still being brought mugs of drugged water for Xardan every hour, but he honestly wondered how long it was going to last. While the drug was still working, Jaysin was close enough to see that Xardan was getting closer to consciousness for longer periods of time between each mug of water, and the depth of his delirium had been a matter of concern for Jaysin and his soldiers.
Now as they traveled, Duryg had added a blind and crazy old man to their wagon as well. He stayed in one corner of the wagon, leaning heavily on his staff and keeping his cloak pulled tight around him as if the summer air were chilling him to the bone.
Despite claiming to be blind and wearing heavy bandages over his eyes, the man looked around the wagon with startling awareness, muttering constantly under his breath.
It was unsettling to have the old man's gaze settle on him, Jaysin decided. The old man's muttering was louder, and his gaze did not move on. When a soldier knocked on the door to bring in Xardan's water, every soldier jumped.
“Guard him.” Jaysin commanded as he reached for the door.
Jaysin returned the knock, heard the bolt draw from the outside, and reached his arm out of the crack in the door. The familiar mug appeared to be filled with water, but the foul stench told Jaysin that the drug had already been added.
Fools, Jaysin thought, They should know its potency diminishes with time. They should have let me add it.
Despite the small setback, Jaysin immediately stepped toward Xardan with the cup.
“That would not be a wise choice, Master Jaysin,” the old man said, speaking clearly for the first time.
“Shut him up!” Jaysin barked.
Jaysin’s cadets moved forward with cloth and ropes to bind the old man’s mouth, but his staff spun with shocking speed and accuracy, catching each soldier once and dropping them to the ground.
Jaysin looked at the man with a different consideration now, and the old man seemed to stare straight through the bandages over his eyes and right into Jaysin’s soul.
“How did you know my name?” Jaysin asked.
A small smile split the old man’s mouth, but he simply shook his head in response to Jaysin’s question.
“You are faced with a decision Jaysin that can forever change the face of this world.” The old man stated calmly, “It is my habit to appear when such decisions are being made and steer people in the right direction.”
Jaysin only thought briefly before nodding his understanding, “What would you have me do?”
“Sheath your sword against the Knight. Give passage to the true King. Take action against the false prince.”
Jaysin calmly set the mug of water down on the bench, making sure not to spill any.
“You know I can’t let him go.” Jaysin replied.
“You won’t have to.”
“Don’t… listen… to him!” Xardan mumbled.
Jaysin’s hand instinctively shot to his blade until he remembered that Xardan was still drugged. Even waiting a longer period in between the mugs would not give him enough presence of mind to attack anyone. He relaxed slightly while watching carefully to see what the old man and Xardan had to say.
“Good morning, Xardan!” the old man piped cheerily, “You’ve overslept, but better late than never I suppose.”
“What are you… doing here?” Xardan struggled to speak and obviously still didn’t have the strength to lift his head yet.
“Saving your life!” the old man replied.
“Saving!?” Xardan scoffed, “You ruined my life last time you appeared; then vanished without a trace!”
“No,” the old man replied gently, “You did that entirely on your own. You needed no help of mine!”
“When you find your allegiance in question, stay true to the youngest of the First Knight’s line!” Xardan roared, regaining his consciousness with each word, “That’s what you said!”
“Ah…” the old man admitted, “But was your allegiance in question then, or simply the throne of Faelhart?”
“My allegiance is to Faelhart!” Xardan snarled.
“What does that have to do with this conversation!?” the old man snapped back, seemingly irritated by Xardan’s tone.
Xardan was taken aback by the comment and Jaysin could barely keep from laughing as the two bickered.
In the momentary pause, the o
ld man looked around the carriage as the soldiers on the floor began to stir.
“You two both have your instructions.” He stated, “Do with them as you will.”
Without another word, the old man spun his staff again. Jaysin saw Xardan’s head slump into unconsciousness, but still couldn’t avoid the butt end of the old man’s staff as it came back around toward his temple.
Chapter 16
During the Shattering, Toug created a Rift - a conduit through which the demons of Neth'yc could enter Khes'yc. Using his Demon Lords to command his horde of demons, he attempted to break free of Neth'yc and return to Khes'yc.
*
Jurod and Ilays rode as quickly as they could manage until at least an hour after sunset when Ilays could no longer sustain her position on her horse. After setting several sets of wards around the camp and in several places either way down the road, Jurod came back to the camp to find Ilays already asleep. He rolled out his bedroll and joined her gratefully.
Surprisingly enough, they rested undisturbed until midafternoon and packed their camp again. For the first time since Learth, Jurod noticed that Ilays seemed fully rested. They ate half of their trail rations and noted that they should have resupplied at Myrin's inn.
The pair rode hard for the rest of the day, taking breaks only to water the horses and eat what little they had. As sunset was approaching, Ilays reined in and signaled Jurod to as well. Using the rest they had gained earlier, they both went out hunting to replenish their food supply, and Jurod identified a fresh water source to fill their water skins as well.
After a full night's sleep and packing their fresh supplies of berries, bulbs, and magically dried rabbit meat, Jurod and Ilays were back into their saddles and riding hard again. It had taken two days to get from the clearing to Learth, but the pair arrived late into their second night after leaving Myrin's inn.
Restless as they were, Jurod and Ilays took the opportunity to set their wards around their small camp just on the west side of the clearing and moved their horses into a separate clearing a few hundred yards away to the north. They slept for the rest of the night. It was more than a little surprising to them both when they woke to the mental alarm of their wards being crossed. Jurod's sword flashed from its scabbard and an arrow immediately found Ilays's bowstring.