Joined at the Hilt: Union (Sphereworld: Joined at the Hilt Book 1)

by Caleb Wachter

  Thinking of no reasonable or witty retort, they stood in silence for a moment before something occurred to him. He gestured to her impossibly bulky hair, “I thought Ghaevlians were supposed to be bald.”

  The woman looked at the curls before a smirk spread across her lips. “I suppose one of the advantages of this post is that I am allowed to indulge in displays of vanity which would otherwise be denied me.” She reached up and pulled the hat from her head, and Randall saw that the hat appeared to be attached to it like some kind of wig. When the woman held it before herself, Randall could see the torchlight reflecting off the top of her head, and for the first time he got a good look at his bloodline’s mark.

  Seemingly sensing his curiosity, she stepped forward and tilted her head forward so he could see it. There appeared to be little order to it at first glance, but the more he looked the more he thought he could see some kind of pattern traced out in the lines of red, blue, black and green which almost formed a web-like pattern of some kind.

  “Very good,” she said appreciatively. “Our line has long been referred to, somewhat scathingly, as ‘Web Spinners’,” she explained.

  Recoiling at her intimation that she had read his mind, Randall felt his hand go reflexively toward the sword strapped to his back.

  I will stand with you, Randall, he heard Dan’Moread say, but you would be wise to stay your hand for now. I suspect she would not come here merely to toy with us.

  Nodding in silent agreement, Randall almost missed his Great Grandmother’s subtle narrowing of her doll-like eyes. Fixing his gaze on her, he forcibly relaxed himself as he searched her features.

  “Interesting,” she mused before replacing the hat on her head, which after only a few minor adjustments, appeared to have never been removed. She turned briskly and glided toward the corridor, but when she exited the cell the door remained open. “The Ambassador is satisfied with your proof of lineage,” she said, he voice taking on its former, melodious tune. “As such, you are welcome to join me as my guest if you are so inclined. Of course,” she gave a pointed, slightly disdainful look to the cell and its adjoining corridor, “if you would to remain here, I suppose we could indulge in such preference should you find a…familiar setting to be more agreeable.”

  “Fami—“ he began in a raised voice, but cut himself short as he regained his composure. After a few seconds he shook his head. “If I can stay somewhere else, I think I would prefer it so long as it’s warm and dry. I’m no good at these word games,” he said with a derisive snort.

  She smirked and gestured toward the exit. “That is perhaps the most intelligent thing I have yet heard you say,” she said in what Randall would call a ‘haughty tone.’

  She led the way, and Randall followed past the guards who stood motionless as he passed. When they had made their way out into the cold, morning air, he took another long look at the city of Greystone and shook his head in wonderment.

  “It is indeed an impressive accomplishment,” she said agreeably as they walked up the gently curving path, “especially for a people whose lives are such fleeting things. It takes great vision for humans to think so far in the future, and it is for that reason alone that my people have maintained formal relations with this—and only this—human state until this time.”

  “It is an impressive city,” Randall allowed.

  “Indeed,” she said as they came around the bend of the path and the two towers came into view, between which the ‘trials’ of the day had taken place earlier. “I don’t suppose you would believe that there was a time when ‘elves’,” she said the word pointedly, “of all stripes were so numerous that to compare the total of human civilization in this world to their peak would be laughable?”

  Randall had never even heard fairy tales which would suggest that to be the case, but he had a growing certainty that nothing this woman did was without purpose. “I wouldn’t disbelieve you,” he said guardedly, “but I’d still find it hard to accept.”

  “A prudent position, as well as an insightful statement,” she said with open amusement. “It is true; there was a time when the nine tribes of our ancestors were so numerous and plentiful that they covered every inch of this world with their works.”

  “How long ago?” Randall asked, trying as much to be polite as to get an answer. It really did seem ridiculous that elves would ever number as many as she suggested.

  The woman the Jarl called ‘Phinjo’ shrugged. “It is difficult to express in terms you might understand,” she said simply. “The world has changed a great deal since then; in a sense, you might say that time was measured differently as well. But it was long before I was born, which was six hundred passages of the Judge hence.”

  Randall felt his eyes threaten to bulge out of his head. “Six hundred years?” he repeated in outright awe. “I had heard stories of Ghaevlian lifespans, but…”

  “But you assumed them to be fabrications?” she asked in a musical, yet strangely neutral tone. “Oh, I fear I forgot,” she said, stopping suddenly and turning to face Randall.

  Before he could inquire as to why she had stopped, she flicked her hand out across the cord which had bound his wrists. The cord fell away as Randall withdrew his hands an instant too late to avoid the gesture.

  With his hands now freed, he eyed her warily. “I’m allowed to go free then?“ he asked, trying to keep his own voice even.

  “Certainly not,” she replied as she turned and continued toward the far tower, upon which was a banner fluttering in the wind which Randall was unable to see clearly from his angle. “The Jarl has graciously permitted me to take custody of your personage until such a time as your patents of lineage can be confirmed. It is my hope that you will consider yourself a guest of the Ghaevlian Nation during that time. It is possible you might even provide some small service in return, as a gesture of appreciation for all that the Nation has done for you.”

  “And what exactly has the Ghaevlian Nation done for me?” Randall asked, feeling his guts begin to tighten at the woman’s off-hand suggestion that he might owe her something for her ‘help,’ which to him seemed to consist of little more than acknowledging their relationship—a relationship he had never even known about prior to that morning.

  She made a sound very much like the one Lore made when she was exasperated with him. “Children rarely understand the sacrifices which are made on their behalf,” she sighed as they approached what looked to be the only door into the tower, which stood imperiously opposite its twin on the other side of the landing.

  The towers themselves were not huge, but neither were they small. Likely standing more than fifty feet high and some twenty feet across, their architecture seemed a striking contrast to the other construction around them. Where the buildings of Greystone were composed of large, solid stone blocks fitted together with minimal mortar, these towers appeared to be hewn from solid stone. Their surfaces were scarred with lines which made them appear to be block-and-mortar construction, but up close it was obvious even to Randall that such was not the case.

  “You see much,” Phinjo said approvingly as the door opened just as she came to it. “Please come in; these towers are the sovereign territory of the Ghaevlian Nation, and are the only officially recognized remnants of our once-vast civilization.”

  She made her way within while Randall stood outside and briefly considered his options.

  For what it is worth, he heard the sword say at the edge of his mind, Tavleros spoke often of Ghaevlian ethics. I do not believe we will come to harm in this ‘Phinjo’s custody.

  “That’s not all that much comfort,” Randall muttered under his breath, “but I guess it is something. Thanks, Dan’Moread.”

  Of course, the sword replied promptly. We must learn to rely upon each other and limited though my knowledge of these matters may be, I will provide whatever assistance I am able.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a deep breath as he followed Phinjo into the tower.

  Inside the towe
r all was black, and just as he entered the door closed behind him, snuffing out the sunlight which was the only source of illumination. His eyes began to slowly adjust to the darkness, and he waited as they did so.

  “I forgot,” he heard Phinjo’s voice come from somewhere to his left, “my apologies.” The room was then slowly filled with a pale, blue light which seemed at first to come from the walls themselves, but then Randall saw that the true source of the light was a series of sconces set beside a winding staircase set against the outer wall. “Please, follow me,” she beckoned in a tone that made it more of a command than an invitation.

  Following her lead, Randall ascended the narrow staircase, to the right of which was the occasional door. He climbed to what he was certain had to be the top, where Phinjo stood waiting beside such a door. “These shall be your quarters during your time as our guest,” she gestured to the door itself, and Randall carefully opened it.

  Once he did so, sunlight came streaming into the stairwell and Randall saw a well-appointed chamber which was far better than anything he had ever set foot in. The bed itself was nearly as large as his entire room at The Last Coin had been, and there were two windows which overlooked the city of Greystone.

  But he knew it for what it really was, and he turned to the woman with a twinge of anger in his chest. “I’m still a prisoner,” he said coldly, even though the bed beckoned to him, since it had been months since he’d seen a proper mattress.

  “That is correct,” she said as she blinked her large, doll-like eyes. “But if you prove yourself a gracious guest, I am confident I will be able to lift the Federation’s warrant against you.”

  Feeling his fists ball up at his sides, Randall forcibly relaxed them as he felt his choler rise. “What possible use can I be to you?” he growled a bit more harshly than he had intended. “I’m a stranger in these lands; I know nothing of you, your people, or this place.”

  She cocked her head in some approximation of puzzlement. “It is that very ignorance, coupled with your blood and…unusual possessions,” she said with a barely noticeable flick of her eyes to Dan’Moread’s hilt, “which makes it possible that you may be of some use to us.”

  Shaking his head, Randall stepped into the room and turned his back on the woman. If he looked at her for another minute, he might do something he would later regret. “What kind of ‘use’ might you have for me?” he asked bitterly. “It would seem I’m completely at your mercy here, so let’s just get it out in the open.”

  Phinjo stepped into the room and clasped her hands before herself, and in the sunlight she looked even more doll-like than she had before. Randall had to avert his eyes as they threatened to take in the curve of her dress.

  Get a hold of yourself, Randy, he thought as he forced his eyes shut. She’s your Grandma!

  “Great Grandmother,” she corrected. “If only two generations separated us, you might serve an even more productive purpose for the Nation. But as it is, you can still be of some use.”

  “How can you do that?” he demanded, equally unnerved and angered at her apparent ability to intrude on the innermost sanctum of his mind.

  “I do apologize,” she said with a slight inclination of her head, “but with blood as close as ours, and with your…uninstructed use of the Flylrylioulen, your thoughts are amplified to the point where even I am unable to shut them out entirely.”

  She moved toward the window and Randall stood motionless as she looked out across the city. After several moments of silence she turned to him with a calculating look on her face. “We do not have time for pleasantries, it would seem,” she said evenly, “there is a sequence of events which have been long set in motion, and your arrival here at this time may prove to be mutually beneficial. If you will agree to hear my proposal then I will agree to set you free without further encumbrance. Should you find my proposal agreeable, we can come to some further arrangement; should you not wish to accept, then I will let you leave as soon as I am able.”

  Randall snickered openly. The more he heard from this woman, the less he liked her. But rather than aggravating matters, he shook his head and said, “It doesn’t sound like I have much choice.”

  “Indeed,” she agreed. “My proposal is this,” she said as she swept silently across the small room, “you set out for an abandoned keep located to the northwest, several days’ ride past the Unnatural River. Within the keep is a tablet, and upon that tablet is a record of some minor consequence; you are to collect that tablet and return here, careful to avoid damaging the record as time may have weakened it.”

  Randall waited for further details, but when they failed to materialize he cocked an eyebrow incredulously. “You don’t even know me,” he said, barely able to suppress a chuckle. “How can you trust me not to run the first chance I get?”

  Phinjo shrugged lightly. “You may lie to me, but your blood could never do so,” she said simply. “If you agree to lend your assistance in this matter then I, and the Ghaevlian Nation entire, will consider it a great favor.”

  “A favor?” Randall blurted. “What does that even mean?”

  Phinjo cocked her head quizzically. “Do you mean to say you refuse the assignment?”

  Randall rolled his eyes; he really could not believe what he was hearing. Why in the name of the Lady would they want me to do this? he wondered silently before remembering her apparent telepathic ability and snapping his eyes around to look at Phinjo, who had the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

  “Let’s say I do this,” he said coldly, realizing he might be able to turn the situation to his and Dan’Moread’s advantage, “I’d need a gesture in return—before I set out for the keep. For all I know it’s a suicide mission, and even if it’s not I made a promise that I intend to keep—which, consequently, is the entire reason I came to Greystone in the first place.”

  Phinjo gestured to a pair of chairs beside the far window, and Randall followed her as they made their way to sit facing each other. “You are perhaps better at this game than you believe,” she said with clear amusement. “Very well; what would you ask?”

  Randall reached up for Dan’Moread’s hilt and slowly drew the weapon, careful not to move too suddenly as he did so. The last thing I want to do is scare her, he thought, who knows what she’d do if I startled her?

  Phinjo let loose a light, almost mocking laugh as he had the sword half-drawn. “It really is true; you know absolutely nothing of me,” she said as her face broke into a tight, deceptively innocent smile. “Rest assured, star child, that I fear no harm from you.”

  “I really wish you’d stop doing that,” he grumbled as he finished drawing the sword from its sheath.

  Phinjo shrugged. “I might choose to instruct you in the proper usage of your Flylrylioulen, should you prove yourself of assistance to the Nation,” she said lightly.

  Shaking his head at her presumption, Randall laid the sword across his lap and heard Dan’Moread say, What are you doing, Randall?

  “It’s ok,” he said in a low voice as he looked at the sword’s glittering, dark blade. Only two of its Godstone gems were still intact, with the other three having already turned opaque. He knew the sword had expelled at least one of their energies to save him and his friends in Three Rivers, so it was the least he could do to return the favor—if it was possible.

  Clearing his throat, he looked up at Phinjo. The Ghaevlian woman’s features were once again doll-like and nearly unreadable, but Randall thought her eyes were more studious than they had been. “This sword is damaged,” he said, gesturing to the weapon’s loosely-wrapped tang. It had been several days since he had re-wrapped the weapon’s hilt, and he knew that it would be nearly useless without at least ten minutes of re-tightening. “I need a new hilt fashioned for it, and I heard that Greystone is the only place with skilled enough smiths.”

  You do not need to do this, Randall, Dan’Moread interjected. This woman intends to use you for her own gain; even though she is your bloo
d, I would not wish you to indebt yourself to her on my behalf.

  Randall wanted to reply, but his desire to keep the sword’s true nature a secret—if possible—overrode his manners. “If you agree to help me get this sword repaired, I’ll agree to your proposal,” he said, feeling his stomach churn as he said the words.

  Randall, no! the sword insisted. You must not do thi—

  “It’s the only way!” he snapped, looking up into Phinjo’s eyes as he said it, hoping to suggest with his body language that his outburst had been intended for her and not the sword.

  The Ghaevlian woman regarded him silently for several moments before looking down at the sword. “It is pure star metal,” she said matter-of-factly, “and such material is rare in this age; even the modest quantity required for such a task would command a small fortune—an amount far in excess of your proposed task’s value.”

  Randall felt his fingers grip Dan’Moread’s hilt tightly, and his hand began to tingle as he felt the sword’s energy lick at his skin. But he relaxed his grip as he locked eyes with the woman who claimed to be his Great Grandmother. “I said it’s the only way,” he said in as hard of a tone as he could manage while keeping his features as unreadable as possible. “If you don’t agree to help me, then I’ll thank you for your hospitality and be on my way as soon as I’m allowed.”

  She met his gaze for over a minute, but eventually she nodded. “I believe you are telling the truth, so if you will agree to expand the scope of your assigned task then I will do what I can to arrange for the materials you require,” she said in her rich, musical voice. “The details of your task’s somewhat…expanded scope will only be revealed to you on your return to Greystone. These are the Nation’s terms—and they are non-negotiable.”

  Randall, Dan’Moread said in a loud voice that almost made him flinch, I would not ask you to do this.