The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  “No, not straw,” Orris chided. “Remember, goats prefer grass. Such a large body this boy has, but such a small mind.”

  They laughed at the jest, with Nevin even forcing a smile as they walked toward the stable. To make up for his remark, Orris left them to fill the water bags. The stable was a roomy stout building, timber-framed with half-walls of piled stone and upper walls of rough sawn wood; it was roofed by overlapping slates. Nevin and Corissa made up some bedding using the cleanest straw and their blankets, both agreeing it would be a cozy place for sleeping if they could only find a spot untainted by animal manure.

  “It won’t be so bad, Nevin,” Corissa offered as she patted his shoulder.

  Nevin was appeased by her show of concern, but she could not resist another jibe. She took his arm and looked up at his cow eyes. “Since you are used to the bad smell of goat droppings and only horses are kept here, this will be like a perfumed room at the King’s castle.”

  Corissa laughed so hard she developed a side stitch and had to sit down on a bale of hay. Nevin was stung again by the unflattering characterization, but he loved hearing her laugh. She seemed to drop her guard and her little joke relieved the tension of the day’s exertion.

  They prepared for a night’s rest. Using an old fire ring situated safely outside the stable, Anson was fit enough to prepare a meal of cooked legumes found along the way and used some for a hot broth that was wonderfully flavorful. After eating, they held a short discussion of their plans for the next day’s travel and retired to the stable. In this small space, Orris positioned himself closest to the door. He removed his swordwood blade from its tether but kept it at his side in easy hand’s reach. All of them fell quickly to sleep.

  Before they started their preparations to leave the next morning, Anson left the stable for a short walk and Orris went to top off the water bags. Nevin and Corissa repacked their parcels, but were startled as the door to the stable flung open. Anson walked inside, his hands raised, as he was prodded along by two men in dirty red uniforms, pointing swords at his back.

  Chapter 13

  Old Acquaintance

  “Both of you! Stand where you are and face forward!”

  Nevin and Corissa froze.

  One of the men, a bedraggled soldier named Fent, nervously looked around. “Let’s see what we have here. Keep your sword on their friend here, Pell, and I will take a closer look.”

  Fent poked in straw piles with his sword and gave the place a once-over until he was satisfied nothing was hidden. Despite his young age, which Nevin estimated at late teens, Fent had the appearance of a grizzled veteran of army life. He had two prominent scars on his face and walked with a limp from a stiffened leg.

  Pell, the other Gilsum Guardsman, was younger, perhaps no more than seventeen. Nevin saw copious signs of nervousness from that young man, and his sword was far too heavy for him, requiring two hands to keep it aimed at Anson.

  Satisfied that no one else was about, Fent ordered everyone to walk slowly outside. Once outside the stable, he demanded to know their identity and reason for being on the road.

  “I have travelled a long distance to find this man,” Corissa said, pointing to Anson. “He is a healer and my mother is gravely ill in Taunton.”

  “There are healers in Taunton. Why would you make such a long journey for this simple looking man?”

  “He has a high knowledge of herb lore which is unknown to the healers in Taunton. He uses herbs and plants which only grow near the Grayflood River.”

  “What of this other man, the beastly-sized one? Gods, he is the biggest lout.”

  “He is merely a dim-witted servant to the healer. His body grew large but his mind dulled by the blood of trolls in his lineage. He is harmless.”

  “He does have the look of a dolt. You two men sit here,” Fent said sharply to Anson and Nevin, “And lean against the stable wall. Pell has orders to kill if you make the slightest move. Come with me, woman. Our Captain will want to question you.”

  Corissa gave a Nevin a look that meant they should cooperate and not attempt any countermeasures. She walked off with Fent toward the house and went through the door. Inside, a cleaner uniformed officer sat at the table in the midst of eating a breakfast meal. There was no sign of the couple who lived in the house. Fent explained the situation to his captain, who slowly set his spoon on the table as he stared at Corissa.

  “Leave the woman with me, Fent. Get quickly back to Pell and keep her companions under close watch. That boy would be easily overmatched.”

  “But, Sir—”

  “You have my orders, soldier!” the Captain interrupted. “Besides, I have nothing to fear from this woman. We are acquainted.”

  The soldier left abruptly, closing the door behind him. The Captain set his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, nervously rubbing one hand over the other. He wiped his mouth with a sleeve and calmly pushed his plate away.

  “Sit down, Corissa. It has been a long time since we have seen each other and you have only grown more comely.”

  “I expect you have changed little as well, Torrance.”

  “What is this foolish story about you seeking a healer for your mother? Have you found someone who can raise her from the dead? You must certainly know that she died. And, if I may be permitted to say, she died disappointed in you, as were many of us, to learn you married an Antrim officer.”

  Torrance stood and slowly walked around the table. Corissa took a step backward.

  “You needn’t fear me, Corissa. You never thought me worth a smile from your pretty face before, but I do not hold grudges. I am still willing to be your friend, even if you are here on Antrim business. Come and tell me all about this mysterious affair of yours.” His voice was like greased silk.

  Corissa backed away again, but the officer moved quickly and grabbed her arm to pull her close. Putting his other arm around her neck to force a kiss, he said, “I can use pain to make you talk, or easier yet I could have my men think of ways to get the truth out of you. Better you should submit to me, dear Corissa. At least I would show some concern for your pleasure.”

  Corissa struggled and slipped his grasp, knocking over a chair. Back at the stable, the sound caused Nevin to start. Since Fent had returned, he dared not make a move.

  Back in the house, Torrance circled toward Corissa backing her against a wall. “Come, my dear,” he said rakishly, kicking the fallen chair out of his way. “Do not refuse me now. Come and see what you have missed by spurning Gilsum men.”

  She edged away until she was trapped in a corner. Torrance slowly measured his steps until he hovered over her. He smiled salaciously but she was determined to resist. She would not let herself fall to this indignity without a fight. He lunged again and caught her by the wrist. She wheeled around and kicked him, missing his groin but hitting his knee. He fell back with a shout of pain and slammed against the table, knocking dishes to floor. Bent over rubbing his knee, he sneered at her.

  “So! I will play your game. If you will not have me, then I will watch as my men have their turns at you. That young pup, Pell, has never had a woman and he would be glad for an opportunity to raise his status among his comrades.”

  Torrance straightened up and arranged his disheveled uniform with a mock air of dignity. He sidled away from her, as if he was the one refusing her. He stopped, leaning with his back against the wall, next to a window facing directly opposite her. “Before I set them on you like the dogs they are, my dear lady, I will have them kill your two friends as part of the price you pay for your refusal.”

  He sneered again and gave a smug laugh as he prepared to call his troops. Before he could raise his voice, his body stiffened. His hands splayed and shuddered. With widening eyes and a guttural groan, he looked down at his chest and saw the point of Orris’ swordwood blade protruding from his uniform. Zael had said that this elven-smithed blade could penetrate armor, so the Antrim soldier had little difficulty thrusting it through the thin plank
wall.

  Corissa watched her attacker slump and gasp his last breath, then stoically said, “Unfortunately for you, Torrance, I have three friends.”

  Outside the wall, Orris withdrew his sword and the Gilsum captain fell lifeless to the floor. Corissa ran to the window and opened it so Orris could climb in without being seen by the two Guardsmen out by the stable.

  “Are you hurt, My Lady?”

  “Thanks to you, Orris, I am fine. Now help me move this body out of sight.” After they dragged the corpse off to the side and covered it, Corissa said quietly, “I think there are only two other soldiers with him. We have to get one of them away from Nevin and Anson.”

  Orris nodded his agreement. “Yes, My Lady, you go to the door and call the one named Fent. Once he is inside, I will tend to him. But please, Lady, stay outside once he enters.”

  Corissa yelled to Fent from the doorway. When he poked his head out the stable door, she said his Captain wanted him. Grumbling that it was probably some menial chore, Fent stopped to ogle Corissa before entering the house. She turned away and the door slammed behind him. A faint groan followed as Orris carried out his duty.

  Pell sensed something was wrong and called out from the stable, but got no answer. He called again. The third time he made the mistake of facing too long toward the house as Nevin grabbed him from behind and threw him to the ground like a rag doll, his sword flying. Nevin kneeled on the youth’s chest keeping pinned him to the ground. Orris came running up with his sword upraised, but Anson intercepted him. “No! Leave the boy alone! There must be no more killing.”

  Orris backed off. “What shall we do with him then? We cannot let him send others after us.”

  Seeing the Guardsmen’s horses tied behind the house, Anson said, “We will tie him to one of the horses and set it off. By the time they are found, we will be safely gone.”

  “That would be a mistake, Anson!” Orris protested. “The horse would seek others of its kind and then we would have a force after us. The safest thing for us is to kill him, which he would have done to you had I not altered their Captain’s plan.”

  “No matter, Orris. We will not kill this boy, even if his mind has been poisoned by the preachment of his leaders. If we succeed in our mission, I believe he would change back to a more natural temperance. We will not deny him the long, good life he would have if we bring an end to this foul war.”

  Orris, perplexed by the restraint imposed by Anson, appealed to Corissa and Nevin but saw only their agreement. The mage put his hands on Orris’ shoulders and looked straight into his eyes.

  “Orris, my friend. Our Alliance for Antrim, as you like to call us, is really an alliance for all. We have to give the people of Gilsum and Antrim the chance to throw off the mantle of hate created by war mongers. We will not save lives by taking them.

  “Those are difficult ideas for an old soldier to abide, but you are a persuasive man,” sighed Orris as he sheathed his sword. “Perhaps I should confine my skills to matters involving four-legged enemies.” He briskly walked in the direction of the soldier’s tethered horses.

  Orris selected the least robust and slowest-looking of the horses and located some rope, which they used to tie the frightened young soldier’s hands and feet and pin him securely to the mount. Before Orris could start the horse with a hard slap on the rump, Anson whispered to the nervous mare and stroked its ears. After a snort, the horse ran off in the opposite direction of Adel’s Mountain. Within a few minutes, the four had gathered their packs and water bags and left the town of Canby behind them.

  * * *

  They walked as fast a pace as they could manage, west by northwest toward mountainous terrain. Anson had a little trouble keeping up, but they took frequent short rests to favor him. By mid-day, they stopped in a cave-like outcropping of rocks located a short distance off the road. As they sat to rest and passed a water bag around, Anson signaled for them be still. He crawled to the opening of the cave and looked out. A moment later, he waved frantically for them to get low and stay quiet. A plodding sound, first detected by Anson, but now audible to all, grew steadily louder as it reverberated in the small cave. It was unmistakably the sound of horses—which meant riders.

  After a few minutes the horses passed by their hiding place. To their relief, there was no break in the sound and it grew fainter as the riders hurried on their way.

  “Was it Guardsmen?” asked Corissa.

  “Yes. It appears I sent the horse in the wrong direction and Pell was rescued sooner than we thought,” said Anson. “We now have a serious dilemma. They will watch the Highway and we will be easy to spy. Even by waiting till dark, if there is no wind they could easily hear us walk these rocky trails.”

  “We will have to leave the road again and make a straight run toward Adel’s Mountain,” answered Corissa.

  “What does this mean?”

  Corissa reflected and said, “We can assume there will be little or no water to be found. Water sources are few and scattered, which is the reason the Highway meanders to connect these sources. I do not believe the soldiers would follow us very far if we went straight to the northwest; they would give us up for dead and not risk their own end.”

  “That’s not very reassuring,” added Nevin. “It’s gotten awfully warm and arid around here to try to stretch the amount of water we have right now, but I suppose we don’t have any better options. Besides, Hillister and Zamora said that among us we have powers to deal with our obstacles. I guess we’ll see if they’re right.”

  “Who is Zamora?” asked Anson.

  “I’d say she is an associate of our friend, Hillister. She seemed to really like you with all her concern for you.” answered Nevin. He went on to tell Anson what they knew about her, particularly the strange way she acted over Anson’s condition. They remained in the cave for a few more hours, until the first signs of evening. They agreed it would be a cooler time for travel and they would have the cover of night if they could keep quiet.

  Orris kept watch until it was time to depart. When that time came, they started straight in the direction of Adel’s Mountain for the walled city of Taunton. Their pace was slow this time because they all knew it was important to limit their exertion. Even though the turn of the day had moderated the temperature, the ground seemed to hold the heat and radiate it well after the sun had set. They took a short rest every hour and were able to cover a fair distance, until it got fully dark. With a limited ability to see ahead, there was frequent stumbling and a few falls. Finally, they decided to stop for the balance of the night and start again with the first light of dawn.

  Sleep was welcome though fitful for all. The ground was quite stony and there was no source of bedding material, such as the forested land had offered. At sunrise, each took a sparse drink of water and ate some of the last wafers provided by the elves. They marched on, making good progress until the heat of mid-day made them stop.

  * * *

  It was difficult to adjust their sleep patterns to such awkward intervals; furthermore, the heat of the day was becoming too stifling to rest properly. If this heat was not oppressive, Nevin asked, what must the summer be like?

  Each of them became progressively more irritable. There was little conversation as each person plodded along stoically. Even Anson seemed to withdraw into his own thoughts. At early evening, they pressed on again but their progress was very slow. Nevin knew they were suffering from inadequate hydration and could not go on much longer under these conditions. He also realized that their survival was now a more immediate concern than their mission. When it came time for them to try to sleep through the dark hours of night, they settled on a high spot that had a few grassy tufts to soften their bedrolls.

  Nevin tried to stay awake and formulate a plan that would increase their prospects of survival, but he found it too difficult to concentrate. He awoke just before dawn, startled by a noise coming from the area where their packs were heaped. He poked Orris and stifled the soldier’s voice
by covering his mouth and motioning that he should listen. Both men quickly realized that someone was rifling their packs. When they heard the sound of someone drinking their water, they both sprang from the bedrolls and jumped on the shadowy figure.

  For a moment, the creature fought mightily, but its strength waned almost immediately and it was no match for Orris and Nevin’s combined efforts. When they had it pinned down, Orris let out with a curse. “It’s a dwarf! Another thieving, damnable dwarf!”

  The commotion woke Anson and Corissa and all four humans converged on the hapless dwarf. Anson made them step back because he could see the dwarf was not well. Obviously a male of the dwarven race, he struggled to speak but a parched throat made the words cracked and difficult to understand. Anson understood the dwarf to call himself Swiggum, and it was plain to see he was greatly suffering from thirst. Anson gave him short sips to drink. As the dwarf began to recover, he grew fearful for his life, especially with Nevin standing over him.

  “Oh, me! Another giant of a man! Only more bad business can come from meeting another one,” Swiggum droned.

  “What do you mean, ‘another giant man?’” demanded Corissa.

  “I met another, like this one,” the dwarf said, pointing a trembling finger at Nevin. “May I have more water?” he timidly asked of Anson, pointing to the water bag. Anson handed it to him.

  Swiggum’s voice improved after another few sips and he talked further at Anson’s encouragement. “The other man was wandering upground alone during the hot season. Dying of thirst, he was, like Swiggum is today. I saved him then, I did. Brought him to Glorhum and he helped us, yes, when our water was turning to mud. But since then our well has nearly dried and it has been bad luck gone worse for the Dwarves of Glorhum. With hope gone, the Moot sent me to seek him out, this man. ‘Go find Lord Stryker,’ they said. And sent me off.”

  “Stryker? You have seen John Stryker?” Nevin rasped.

  Chapter 14

  Swiggum