Dawyn Darklance was a taller than average man in middle age, though his body did not look the part. Those who met him thought him fifteen years younger. Despite his youthful appearance, Dawyn was not considered handsome by the opposite gender. He had his hair trimmed short, and was always clean-shaven when not on a mission elsewhere in the kingdom. He had piercing, dark-blue eyes that had an old look about them and a crooked nose that had been broken more times than he could count. His face and body were pocked with scars and burns from many years of being a warrior, but he was also toned and lean, being in prime physical condition. That he was not the most-handsome man around suited him just fine, for he had no time for love or affection. He told himself it was because of the oaths he had sworn, to remain celibate until the completion of his service for the king, though he had other reasons for abstaining from relationships. Memories of the blood splattered everywhere in the small cabin still haunted his dreams at night – a reminder of the cost of caring for anyone too much.
Shouts coming from nearby interrupted the hustle and bustle of the Market District. Dawyn looked around and identified an alleyway where it sounded as though men were shouting and screaming in pain. He spurred his horse, Shadow, toward the commotion. As he entered the mouth of the alleyway, he saw half a dozen men surrounding something brown. As he neared, he saw that it was a bear. It appeared to be a small brown bear. It roared in anger at its assailants from the corner. Dawyn could see wounds peppered across its body and it seemed to be favoring its right leg, as if the left were wounded.
Dawyn spurred Shadow into motion. One of the assailants turned just in time to jump out of the way as Dawyn placed himself and Shadow between the assailants and the bear. Only after taking such action did he think that, perhaps, the bear would attack him or his horse. It did not matter to him, however - these men were going to be dissuaded from attacking the bear further.
Dawyn cleared his throat and asked in a strong voice, “What business do you have with this bear, gentlemen?” He used the term “gentlemen” very loosely in this case, as the six men looked more like ruffians than anything close to gentlemen.
All six of the men were looking at him in silence, hard eyes narrowing. Finally, after a few moments, one of the men spoke up. “It ain’t any of yer business, soldier” he said in a drawling voice with a sneer. “This here bear belongs to us. So get out of our way if you know what’s good for you.” The menace in his voice was clear, and several of his companions fingered their maces, swords and axes.
Dawyn studied the man who had spoken. He had beady brown eyes, long scraggly hair and crooked, yellow teeth. He was unkempt and grimy, as if he hadn’t had a bath in months and Dawyn could smell the stink wafting off the man from where he sat a few meters away. He noticed the chains and ropes the men had with them. “This bear looks wounded. How did it come by its injuries?”
“Listen,” the defacto leader replied, “I said it ain’t any of yer business. I ain’t answering any of yer questions so get out of our way so we can take back what’s ours.” He drew his blade and pointed it at the man. “You may be a soldier, but after we’re done with you there won’t be anything left to identify you.”
The threat was clear, but Dawyn calmly dismounted from Shadow and turned toward the bear. During the exchange that had been going on, the bear had been quiet – unusually quiet, in fact. As he walked toward it, the bear held his eyes. Dawyn blinked. It was unusual for a bear to display such a level of intelligence. He knelt down next to the animal, holding his hands out as if to say he was no threat. He inspected the collar on its neck.
The collar was made of a silvery metal and was cool to the touch. Inscribed on the outside of the collar were a series of symbols that Dawyn almost did not recognize. These were ancient symbols dating from the days before the Founding, when older civilizations had roamed the world. He recalled them from his days in the royal library, however. It took him a moment to translate the symbols, but when he did, he stiffened. Of course, he thought. This explains everything. This was a Shara’han collar – an ancient contraption that had been designed to capture those with magic and prevent them from accessing it. He laid his hands upon the collar and recited an incantation related to this collar. He was surprised he still remembered the words. As he said the last word, the collar popped off and clattered to the paving stones. Dawyn stepped back as, before his eyes, the bear transformed into a woman.
The woman, who was stark naked, curled up and faced toward the wall, presenting her back to him. Dawyn had only seen a glimpse of her, but she seemed quite attractive. He had time enough to see she had brown hair, dark-green eyes and a nice facial structure. Bruises and cuts were scattered across her body. Questions about how she became trapped in the form of a bear would need to wait. He had justice to dispense.
Straightening, Dawyn turned and strode around Shadow, coming, once again, to face the men in the alleyway. They now eyed him warily, their eyes betraying the fact that they had known the bear was not really a bear at all. He drew from the dual sheaths at his hips, his dark swords. “I am no simple soldier, ruffian,” Dawyn began, “I am Dawyn Darklance, commander of the Shadow Watch Guard and hand of justice for his majesty King Algier the Third, may the Founders bless him. I find you guilty of illegally imprisoning a human being in the form of an animal against her will. Lay down your swords and surrender, or face my justice.” He was in no mood for them to surrender – they had to pay for what they had done to this poor woman.
Nor did the men surrender. “I don’t care what fancy titles you be havin’,” the scruffy man replied. “You bleed just like any other man and its six-to-one odds.”
“Don't tell me the odds,” Dawyn replied as he advanced toward the men. He took a deep breath and drew upon the emptiness in the back of his mind. He drew it out and expanded it into a field around him. As he approached the ruffians, the first man came in to strike him. As the blade streaked toward him, it slowed, and Dawyn was able to side-step the strike easily. With a leisurely strike of his own, he moved up to the slow-moving man and slammed the hilt of his sword into his face. In slow-motion the man’s nose broke with a crunch, and droplets of blood sprayed out.
Dawyn possessed a unique ability; he could bend time in his immediate vicinity. Dawyn referred to his ability as time-bending. Depending on the amount of concentration he put in, he could slow any form of matter or energy in the area around him, from a few hand spans away up to three or four meters away. The further the time-dilation field extended the more concentration it took from Dawyn and the faster he tired. To an outside observer, Dawyn would be going faster than those around him would. Any projectile, weapon, or person entering the time-dilation field he generated with his mind would be affected. Arrows and knives passing the threshold, for example, would look to Dawyn as if they were moving through jelly, making it easy for him to dodge such attacks.
As the first assailant dropped, Dawyn moved on to the second. This man rushed him with a spear; one that had obviously been intended for the woman. As before, the spear slowed as it neared Dawyn and he was able to cut the head off it, before tripping the man with a sweep of his foot and kneeling to slam the hilt of his right hand blade into the side of the man’s head, knocking him unconscious.
The conflict proceeded with Dawyn defeating each of the ruffians, until he stood face-to-face with the leader of the group. The man turned and ran. Dawyn started to chase after him but, as he began to run, he saw a black blur pass him on the left. As his eyes tracked the object, he saw what appeared to be a large cat, a panther, or something similar, leap onto the back of the fleeing man and drag him to the ground. The man was screaming and trying to beat the cat away, but the cat scratched the man deeply on his back. The man rolled over in an attempt to fight the animal, but the effort was futile. The animal was ready for the kill when something dawned on Dawyn. He looked back to where he had left the woman and there was no trace of her. He shouted out, “Hold, druid. Better to let this man face the ki
ng’s justice than soil your hands, or paws in this case, with his blood. He is not worth it.”
The panther stopped in mid-descent toward the man’s throat and looked at Dawyn. At last, she nodded and leaped off the man, sitting off to the side.
Dawyn went up to the man, kicked the sword away from him, and took out hand ties. He tied up the man and the rest of the unconscious ruffians. He would leave them here until he could find someone from the city watch to come bring these men in. He took off his cloak and stepped toward the panther, holding the cloak wide-open, to block his view. He heard a slight swoosh and knew the panther had become the woman. Feminine hands grabbed the cloak and the woman wrapped it around her body.
“It’s all I can do at the moment. I am sorry I could not give you more,” Dawyn said with a slight bow.
The woman looked at Dawyn and replied in a surprisingly melodious voice, “You have done more than I could have ever asked for, Sir Dawyn. I do not know how I will ever begin to thank you.” She blushed as she said that.
“Please allow me to escort you to lodging and food. In exchange for your tale, I will call us even. Surely a druid has an interesting story to tell, you being this side of the White Mountains.” He extended a hand. “Shadow can hold us both. May I ask your name?”
The woman thought about his offer for a moment before smiling. “My name is Anwyn,” she said. She placed her hand in his hand and followed him to the horse. He threw down the saddle blanket to make things more comfortable for Anwyn. Before mounting, a flash of silver caught his eye and he remembered the collar. He went over and picked it up, placing it in his saddlebag, before mounting up and heading toward the nearest watch post.
Inside the watch post, he found several city watch guards sitting around a table playing a game of cards. They all stood up and saluted as he entered. He returned the salute, though not without casting a disapproving glance at the cards. These men were to protect the city, not gamble away their money. Nevertheless, he needed them. “Down on Pelinor Street, in an alley between the baker Strathroy and the tailor Madame Florence, you will find six ruffians. They are to be brought to the palace to face the king’s justice.
“What did they do, commander?” one of the men asked.
“They were engaged in enslavement of their fellow man, assault and battery and attacking one of the king’s Guards. Any other questions?” Dawyn asked in a tone that suggested he should not have been asked the first question.
“N-n-no sir,” the men replied, almost in unison.
“One of you please go and fetch me a spare uniform,” Dawyn commanded. “Ensure it is a size that would fit a small man or medium-sized woman.”
One of the soldiers saluted and ran to go fulfill his request. When Anwyn tried on the uniform, it was a little big in the shoulders and tight around the chest, but otherwise she seemed grateful to have something other than the cloak covering her.
Chapter 7: The Dancing Mare
After leaving the watch post, they rode northwest to the Dancing Mare Inn, within the Royal District of town. It was getting on toward late afternoon and the inn was likely starting to fill up with men and women who had just completed a hard day’s work and travelers looking to bed down. Dawyn brought Shadow around to the side of the inn where the stables were and the stable boy, Dylan, took Shadow. Dawyn flipped him a silver mark, which he accepted with a bow.
As they approached the door to the inn, Dawyn nodded to Bruno, the bouncer at the door, who nodded back to him and tipped his hat. “How are you tonight, Bruno?” Dawyn asked.
“Oh, I’m right fine this evening, Sir Darklance. How are you?” Bruno was a short, older gentleman who was quite large and muscular. Although the Dancing Mare didn’t see many disputes of any sort, if one happened Bruno would ensure those involved didn’t stay for long. He carried a cudgel at one hip and a dagger at the other. Dawyn had heard that he once was a mercenary attached to a traveling merchant, until his leg was wounded and he could no longer walk for long distances. He had retired from that life and come here, where things were simpler.
“I’ve been better, Bruno, but I’m glad to be here,” Dawyn replied as he and Anwyn entered the inn. He spotted the innkeeper’s wife, Elizabeth, rushing by with a platter of plates heaped with meat that looked like lamb, and waved at her.
She set down the platter and served the guests before returning the wave, a friendly smile on her face. She did not fail to notice Anwyn and he was sure she would be over to be introduced shortly. She was a plump middle-aged woman with graying hair on the sides, and she was one of the kindliest women he had ever met in this great city, so long as you did what she told you to do. Even as he watched, she gently slapped one of the serving women, her daughter Rose, on the butt to get her to move faster.
Running an inn was generally a family affair – it just made good business sense. The father typically did the bar tending, while the wife ran the kitchen and helped with serving. The older daughters would help with serving and the older sons with carrying heavy barrels of alcohol. The younger children would help in the kitchens or muck out the stables. Sometimes aunts, uncles, and cousins would be involved, if the inn were large enough. This inn required the whole family.
The Dancing Mare was one of the largest inns in Tar Ebon, and one of the original inns, if the stories of its owners could be believed. The inn was six stories tall (which was almost the limit of modern stonework architecture without support), took up almost an entire city block and boasted one hundred guest bedrooms. Legend said that, over a thousand years ago, one of the Founders had created the Dancing Mare Inn from nothing but the earth. Dawyn didn’t know much about architecture, but he had noticed that the walls of the inn appeared seamless, as if no mortar had been used in their construction. Perhaps there was some credibility to the story.
Elizabeth strode over to Dawyn and Anwyn and gave Dawyn a big hug as if he were her own son. “Dawyn my boy, it’s been too long!”
Dawyn hugged her back. “It has indeed, Elizabeth. How have you and Paul been?” Paul was Elizabeth’s husband and co-owner of the Dancing Mare.
“Oh, you know, Paul’s up to his same old tricks and I’ve had to keep him in line. I swear that man is losing his mind. Did you know that just last week he forgot to order more dark ale? Then, just yesterday, he forgot to bring a new keg of house beer down from the warehouse and we ran out! That caused some angry customers for a time. You try telling a bunch of drunken men and women that they have to wait while we go fetch a keg of beer! It wasn’t pretty, let me tell you. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
Dawyn just chuckled. “Your husband is just about as stubborn as you, Elizabeth. I’d sooner tell the sun not to rise than try and tell either of you what to do or make you see sense.”
Elizabeth smiled at the comment and turned to Anwyn. “Where have your manners gone, boy? Pray tell who this pretty young woman is.”
“Elizabeth, this is a new friend of mine, Anwyn. Anwyn, this is Elizabeth Pritchet. She and her husband own the Dancing Mare Inn.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Anwyn replied as she bowed slightly and smiled. She still did not seem to be quite over her ordeal, though that came as no surprise to Dawyn. It caused her to speak very little.
“The reason we’ve come, Elizabeth, is to ask for a huge favor,” Dawyn said.
“Name it, my boy,” Elizabeth replied.
“Well, I would like to ask for lodging for Anwyn. She’s new in town and could really use a place to stay until she can get back on her feet. I would pay for it of course,” Dawyn added hastily. “Oh, and we’d also greatly appreciate a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup and some of that lamb, if it’s fresh.”
“Oh Dawyn, you needn’t even ask!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She turned to Anwyn and took her hand in her own. “Any friend of Dawyn’s is a friend of ours. I just so happen to have a room that I keep open just for occasions like this. Let me show you,” and she guided Anwyn toward the stone staircase that led upst
airs. “Dawyn, Paul is in the cellar bringing up some more barrels. Do you mind seeing if he needs a hand?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t mind at all,” Dawyn replied, as he made his way to the door of the basement and descended. At the bottom of the stairs, he found himself in a dimly-lit cool cellar where the alcohol for the inn was stored. It looked like a catacomb down here only, instead of bodies, there were kegs of ale and beer and bottles of wine.
As he was wandering around, he saw a light coming down the hall toward him. He moved toward the light and ran into Paul.
“Dawyn! By the Founders, you nearly scared the life out of me, man!” he exclaimed, as he set down the keg he had been carrying and shook his hand. “Let me guess, Elizabeth sent you down here,” he said. “That woman has been telling everyone I’m losing my mind! She probably sent you down here to make sure I hadn’t gotten lost.”
Dawyn simply smiled. “Well, she asked me to come down here to help you bring up some kegs, but perhaps that was her ulterior motive.”
“Bah, women. Can’t live with them, can’t hardly live without them,” Paul said half-heartedly. Everyone in town knew that Paul and Elizabeth were madly in love. It was believed that the back and forth jabs were one of the secrets to their long successful marriage.
So Dawyn proceeded to help bring up kegs to the pantry where they would be brought out as the night progressed. By the end of it, both he and Paul were sweating. Paul walked over to the beer tap and poured two tall mugs of the dark brown liquid for each of them to enjoy. Paul raised his mug. “I propose a toast. Here’s to lovely women, a safe home and our health.” Dawyn raised his mug in turn and they slammed their stoneware together loudly before taking a long swig.
Blood and Shadows (The Saga of the Seven Stars Book 1) Page 4