by Bill Mays
Tark was having trouble stifling his laughs. He might have been more embarrassed by the nude woman’s adoration if he were not trying so hard to contain his mirth at Ado’s expense.
“Damn fey folk!” Ado grumbled. The little man’s ego was sorely bruised.
Tark had tears of laughter in his eyes. The big man gently removed the wood sprite from his person to re-address the old lady sage. “Forgive my rudeness,” Tark dipped his head in a polite gesture, “I am called Tark.”
“Tark, oh my lovely Tark. What a simply delicious name!” The nude woman danced about repeating his name over and over in musical tones. “I am Lilelee, but you can call me anything you choose.” She ended standing directly before the man biting her bottom lip with that mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. “He’s even prettier than my beloved Randolf the poet was, don’t you think Herrin?” The wood sprite looked to Herrin for her agreement. The old woman shook her head dismissively.
“Enough for now Lilelee … please. We have important business to discuss. I can see it in his eyes, serious trouble follows this one.”
The dryad frowned, and then stared daggers at the old woman for a moment. She then shrugged as if all was forgotten and forgiven and danced off to disappear into another large, moss-covered tree. “I’ll be back my love, my Tark!” She giggled from within the trunk.
“You can count on that,” the old woman, Herrin, confirmed with a shake of her head. “Come now, let us sit and discuss what brings you all the way out here over a nice cup of tea. I have created the tastiest brew. Nivit is already preparing it for us. I do hope you like tea?” The old woman seemed seriously concerned over the topic.
“Yes, tea is fine,” Tark smiled back. “I wanted to ask you about some runes.”
The look she gave him in reply was an odd one, as if the tea was more important than his question. Just how long had this woman been deprived of human contact, he wondered. Now that he could get a better look at the sage, Tark decided she was not quite as old as she originally appeared. Her unkempt state and stooped stance along with the mounds of rags and satchels she wore made her appear elderly. She was still no spring chicken, but not as aged as he anticipated. From the stories the villagers had told him this woman must have begun her sagely studies at a very early age.
“Not here. After the tea, in safer surroundings we can discuss your runes. You never know who may be listening.” The woman scanned the swamplands suspiciously. “Ado the Magnificent, do you like tea?” She changed the subject.
“I love tea, thank you,” Ado squeaked. The little man was trying hard to pick his shattered ego up off the damp ground. Hearing his self-proclaimed title spoken aloud helped.
“Good, good,” the sage sung to herself as she led the two away.
They wandered through the swampy wood a while before the old woman led them into a tangled thicket of thorny vines and branches. Ado landed back on Tark’s shoulder. He was tired of flying and he wanted to speak to the big man privately.
“It’s an illusion, that thicket isn’t real,” he whispered. “Nothing fancy, but the image is convincing enough. There’s a small hut just over there.”
The tremlin was happy to get some use out of his copper ring bracelet. It was a magical gift, which allowed him to see through any illusion as if it were a dirty pane of glass. Tark was only half-listening to the gremlin. Ado was always rambling on about something. He was still curious to see what a “nivit” was. The woman had mentioned the name several times already.
- Chapter 2 -
Behind Enemy Lines
“Don’t you think there should be other options here? Are you certain there is no other way to go about this? I don’t see the point in just offering ourselves right back into their grasp. This is a fool’s errand!” The short, gangly man with the rodent-like features questioned their course for the third time in under an hour.
“Yes, it is the only way! Now be quiet and keep your eyes open before I knock you upside the head,” the stocky knight known as Manifor Stormblade, Mani for short, scolded.
“Humph! Do you hear the way they talk to me, boy?” Ganze, the gangly man, whispered to his new pet.
The rat-faced businessman had acquired something very novel to him, a friend. This friend came in the form of a large blackbird injured by an arrow and unable to fly. A Drackmoorian soldier shot the bird after its loud squawking alerted the gangly man and his fleeing party to a possible ambush. Ganze stumbled upon the injured animal on his way back to The Council’s Reverie, a temple outside Merintz’s town of Pearin. He brought the poor bird back with him for medical attention. The animal had saved his life after all, and so he simply returned the favor. It was the perfect friend. It only listened and never talked back or disagreed. The bird held a look of distinct intelligence in its eyes.
“Why did you choose to come with us anyway?” Arianna questioned their former guide. Her gaze was beyond annoyed. Everything about Ganze irritated her.
It was plain in her tone she would have preferred he stay behind. The beautiful priestess made a point to brush up against the young knight as she passed him. Her suggestive actions did not go unnoticed. Manifor even blushed slightly. She made her interest in several of the men clear during their stay at the temple of the sister goddesses. The seductive young woman even solidified that interest with a couple of them, in the name of her own Goddess, Rashas, of course. All forms of love were respectable offerings in Rashas’ teachings. The new head masters of the temple were not sorry to see the disruptive woman leave. Those were not the kinds of activities they wanted taking place under their sacred temple’s roof.
“My dear, I am a businessman. I have been doing what I do for a very long time. It is how I’ve built the reputation that I have today. I accepted an assignment under his late majesty’s request, and I intend to receive payment for a job well done.”
The look Dalia shot his way caused him to choke up. The lady would not soon let him forget that his “job” had cost them the life of her young attendant and friend. Whether he intended it to happen or not, Teevo was gone and nothing the small, gangly man could say would change that.
Ganze fumbled for the voice to continue. “Ahem … and since these wonderful soldiers of Kandair,” the rodent-man’s eyes lingered on Manifor as he spoke, “have informed me that they cannot pay me, I am forced to carry my pleas to the Queen herself. Trust me, I would rather I had stayed behind, too. This journey screams of trouble.”
Ganze felt uncomfortable under Dalia’s hard glare. He returned his attentions to his pet. He called the animal “Coal” because of its black feathers. He petted the bird and whispered to it, but the lady could easily read the nervousness radiating from him.
Dalia watched him and she knew she had no justification in blaming their former guide. Ganze had done what he thought best in a very difficult situation. They were all lucky he had not just turned them over to Drackmoore as sleep-poisoned prisoners. It would have been easy enough. That alone let her know he was not a completely bad man per se. Still, she disliked him, and her anger and pain over Teevo’s loss needed an outlet. Ganze was the lucky recipient of that anguish. It had been months since the incident at the Wayward Blade Inn and Tavern, but the image of the child’s death scene held firmly in her mind. Teevo was a sweet, innocent child who did not deserve such a terrible fate. She would never forget the loss. Things had taken a rather troubling turn for the companions since that day. Tark was missing. He was their leader, the backbone of the group. Ultimately, it was a quest assigned to him that brought her and her companions to this point in their lives. Tark was the element that bound them all together. The gladiator left them during the night in a crazed rage, never to return. The lady gathered some basic knowledge of the reasoning, but she still had questions. Whatever they were attempting to deliver was entrusted back to Tark with the passing of King Airos of Kandair. The stress of it all, she assumed, drove the gladiator to venture out alone. His psyche seemed fragile near the end o
f their travels together. The lady could only hope the big man was able to hold it all together on his own, without their support. Their odd little mage, Ado the tremlin, left that night as well. Where he went or why, no one knew for sure. Most assumed Teevo’s death was the cause. Now, they were three, Flade, Arianna, and the Lady Dalia. But, they did intend to find their lost friend and rejoin Tark on his journey.
The remaining knight guardian of King Airos Allustare was leading a small band on a mission to deliver the sad news of their liege’s death to the Kandairian resistance headquarters. That and to join the fight for his country’s independence. Manifor Stormblade was one of a handful of soldiers who survived the devastating attack on The Council’s Reverie. He was also one of the select knights of Kandair, and a close personal attendant to the late king. He was the only one left to lead the rag-tag group back across the Merintz and Kandair border through enemy territory and into the resistance’s folds. He had five soldiers at his disposal ranging from an inexperienced youth to a grizzled veteran. Lucky for them, Dalia and her friends requested to join the group. They needed all of the assistance they could get. Travel through the war-torn country of Kandair would not be easy.
The few remaining priests of the temple performed the king’s last rights beautifully. They even tried to send word through prayer to the Kandairian resistance. Unfortunately, none who remained was skilled enough to accomplish their goal. There seemed a strong barrier to their prayers, possibly the magical residue of the war. The priests of both the orders in the remote temple were all but wiped out at Drackmoorian hands. All of their more experienced brethren were slain.
A member of the strange and reclusive sect of druids that guarded the forests around the Council’s Reverie appeared to them the morning they set out on their journey. The sect was instrumental in tipping the scales in their favor during the Drackmoorian assault on the temple. The secret druidic religion’s already small numbers were also greatly reduced in the battle. Because of this, Drackmoore found a new enemy in the druids. The stern nature priest volunteered his services in guiding them across the border safely. He performed his task expertly. The quiet man known to them only as Adder had left their ranks a day ago. He stayed on a full week’s journey into the Kandairian lands, a week longer than he originally intended. The solitary man was a great asset and would be sorely missed. With him as their guide, they made no false turns and were never surprised by anything, man or beast. The druid possessed the ability to communicate freely with the animals and the plants so they were well advised of any developments in the immediate area. The nature priest led them around several patrols of Drackmoorian soldiers as well as many wandering parties of goblins. These soldiers and mobs appeared to be troops headed to one destination or another. The frequency and size of the troops were unsettling. Besides one small stray party of goblins, their journey thus far had been a smooth one. The goblins were no challenge to the warrior band. With the exceptions of Ganze and Arianna, every one of their members was skilled in swordplay to some degree.
With Adder gone, they relied on Flade’s expertise. The handsome ranger was their only guide through the Drackmoorian occupied territories. By all estimates, they should have been nearing a small trading community. The ranger was sent ahead to scout out the possibilities of finding any resistance members. Mani was anxious to learn the status of the war and his queen’s forces. It disturbed the young knight greatly to see so many enemy soldiers and goblins in the area. Flade returned to them with a scowl on his face.
“I am skilled, but I’m no druid. The best we can hope for is to avoid detection and find our way blindly into the lands still controlled by the resistance.” Flade looked unsure of the likelihood of either prospect. The druid could cloak them all in concealing magic; he could not. “If you ladies have any insight into this matter it would be greatly appreciated.”
Dalia and Arianna exchanged glances. They were both silent. The priestess was having strange dreams lately, but they did not seem to pertain to anything that made sense. Visions of reptilian eyes, and marshlands came to her nightly. She shared her sight with Dalia but neither woman had any real clue as to what it meant. Given the reaction that most had to the mention of her special gift, the women decided it best to keep the information quiet until it became useful.
“Any idea where those safer lands might be located, sir knight?” The slender ranger’s bluer than blue eyes sought some help from the man in charge of the group. The stocky young warrior stared back with uncertainty.
Mani shook his head ever so slightly from side to side. “Things are definitely not as we left them,” he whispered, defeated. The knight spent several weeks with the king in Merintz before the messengers ever arrived. “It seems more Drackmoorians than animals occupy the forest these days.”
“Things are not even as we left them,” Dalia added in a serious tone.
“The number of troops Drackmoore has deployed to the area is astounding,” Flade agreed with wide eyes. “We will have to go around. Whatever that settlement once was, it is no more. The dark land soldiers infest it.” Flade turned to walk away.
“Cedar Pond,” Mani mumbled.
“What did you say?” Arianna was a little too interested in the stocky man’s words. She always was.
Mani was not so much a handsome man as he was a masculine man. He was a stable boy turned soldier who went on to train as a knight. He was as dedicated to his position as any man to his wife. His ruggedness held its own charm for the priestess, even if he was half a hand shorter than she was. She liked his thick muscular build and his roughly trimmed light brown beard.
“He said Cedar Pond, my dear,” Ganze piped up. “That was the name of this place. I’ve been here before. It was a quaint little place. Not the most interesting stop on the road, but it was pleasant enough … too bad really.”
“Maybe we should see for ourselves. What if there is something we can do to help them?” One of the soldiers accompanying them voiced. They called him Tobin. He was young, barely a man. He could not have seen more than eighteen summers if that.
“He has a point,” the oldest soldier, Tanford, added gruffly. The mature man’s voice sounded like gurgled gravel. “Kandairian eyes might see things a little differently.” The soldier glanced Flade’s way with a glint of suspicion. Two of the three remaining soldiers grunted their agreement. The third sat silent.
“Be my guest, my good fellows,” Flade smiled broadly and dipped with an arm extended towards the direction he had just returned from. “But I warn you, move in silence. They have guards posted all about the settlement. I spotted at least twenty of their men hiding among the trees.”
Flade was not offended by the suspicion of the Kandairian soldiers. As a wandering ranger, he had come to expect it. Most soldiers were wary of a man who openly allied himself to no country or liege in particular. Given the circumstances of these men’s return to their besieged lands, he was surprised they had been as accepting of he and his companions as they were. He supposed the fact that two of his companions were beautiful women, and apparent priestesses, had a little something to do with that acceptance.
Dalia’s face remained a mask of stone, while Arianna’s was extremely expressive. It was clear she feared for the men’s safety should they take up the venture. Ganze merely sat back and petted his bird, Coal. What say did he really have in the matter anyway?
“Enough, men!” Mani broke the growing tension. “There are too few of us to make a difference at the moment, and we have important news to deliver. I intend to come back in force and route these Drackmoorian dogs, have no doubt about that. We must focus on our current goal for now. Are you with me?”
The soldiers grudgingly agreed with their commander. He could not blame them for their feelings. After the loss of their beloved king and several fellow soldiers at the temple massacre, everyone wanted to strike back. News of Kandair City and Castle, then Meadowstone, the small town Arianna and Flade had barely escaped from were bo
th unsettling to say the least. Adding the trading post the druid led them around and now Cedar Pond to the growing list of conquered settlements did not help the situation. Morale was bleak. At this rate, the whole of Kandair would be conquered in no time if it had not already fallen. These were only the communities on the very outskirts. The Drackmoorian forces had advanced from the north and filtered out to these distant eastern parts. There had been no contact either way between them and the resistance for over two months now. That could not be a good sign. It was Mani’s duty as a knight of Kandair to keep the hope alive, though, and so he did his best for his lost comrades, his crumbling country, and his recently departed king. He pledged an oath to defend his country and its ruler to the death. He failed once. Manifor Stormblade would not fail again.
“Lead on, Flade. I have faith in your judgment,” the knight attempted a smile, but that’s exactly what it looked like, an attempt.
“I will do my best, sir knight. Don’t worry,” Flade flashed the man a dimpled smile and took up the lead, away from the enemy-occupied town of Cedar Pond.
Ganze sighed loudly and then fell into step. “Are you sure there is no other way to go about this besides trial and error? Are we to visit every Drackmoorian infested farmhouse and shack in Kandair before we find a safe place to stop? The odds really aren’t in our favor, you know. At this rate we will be spotted and captured before the week’s end.”
The gangly man’s only reply was a sharp rap upside the back of his head. Mani cuffed him with a leather-bound gauntlet. Ganze did not question the knight’s judgment again.
* * * * * * * * * *
Arrivand awoke on a small, worn cot. An old, dark blanket riddled with moth holes and frayed with overuse covered him partially. The air was chilly against his skin. He tried to move but everything ached. The olive-skinned man was at a loss with his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar to him. The building he was in looked as worn as the old cot and blanket. He lifted one sore arm to run his hand over his formerly shaved head and down his face. A full inch of dark wavy hair covered his scalp. That fact alone was unsettling. He finished the painful gesture by tracing his jet-black goatee with his index finger and thumb. It was a gesture that helped him to focus his thoughts. The facial hair had grown wild as well, into a full beard. What had happened and how had he ended up here? How much time had passed? His memory was hazy. The foreign mage could not quite place his last location.