Chapter 14
The company worked steadily to clean up after their brief engagement with the three unfortunate West Bank bounty hunters. They had to haul the one Hasdel had slain to the top of the hill with the other two. Hasdel had been correct: he was heavy. They buried the men in a shallow grave, enough to keep the vultures from circling the very next morning. Quillen said there was too much blood spilled to completely conceal the bodies. He speculated it would be three to four days before they were unearthed by wolves, and the company would be far away by then.
It was now afternoon, and the two boys from Riverlok were relaxing in the shade of a huge oak. Kalo and Ty were chewing on pieces of dried meat Hasdel had provided them. Hasdel and Quillen were standing together on the small landing, admiring the magnificent view of the lands to the south across the Silvertongue River.
Hasdel knelt on one knee near Kalo and Ty and signaled that he wished to speak to the two boys. They moved closer to hear him. Quillen stood silently a few yards away.
Hasdel spoke to the ground as he drew a crude map in the dirt with a stick. His voice sounded hoarse and dry. “Quillen and I have discussed our strategy. We are continuing with the plan we agreed on before we were interrupted by the bounty hunters. We will go directly to Melda to find Lamus. The old monk is known to wander there. We still believe that at a steady pace, we will arrive in four days. We will go on foot. By now, Mallivar is searching both sides of the river for us and would easily detect us if we bought or stole any horses.” He glanced up at the old hunter, and Quillen nodded back.
Hasdel looked up at the two boys, then continued marking his map on the ground. “Most likely, Mallivar will have his men searching the roads and questioning all travelers, so we are safest in the wild. Our plan is still to travel several hours north and then head west, parallel to the Silvertongue.”
The messenger shuffled back on his one knee so he could extend his map. “When we reach Twin Bridges, we will cross under cover of night and head due south toward the Ruins of Melda. Quillen knows how we can cross undetected. There, in Melda, we will find the old monk.”
He looked up at the boys and spoke as he stood up. “Gather your things. We leave soon.”
As Kalo struggled to his feet, Ty was already rummaging through his pack. Hasdel stood and purposefully walked to a crack in the rocks that offered a clear view to the east. He stood for a time in the bright afternoon light, shading his eyes, staring back across the river into Riverlok, where in a single day he had gone from a highly respected gava to the Realm’s most wanted fugitive. Quillen approached and stood behind him. Hasdel glanced back to acknowledge the weathered hunter’s presence. The two men said nothing for a time as they looked out over the city where the Green Provide and the Silvertongue joined. Quillen touched Hasdel’s shoulder and then walked away, back to their base camp. Hasdel soon followed.
The small company of four set out from their camp and battleground on the hill and headed north. They walked in pairs, not as two seasoned warriors followed by two boys, but Ty with Quillen and Kalo with Hasdel. The pairing occurred naturally; it just happened this way and was not planned. The company had successfully escaped the grip of Mallivar, had dealt swiftly but fatally with the West Bank bounty hunters, and now they set out to complete their mission: the search for Lamus the Monk.
The terrain soon turned rough through rocks and brush. Nevertheless, Quillen chose a good path and the party made excellent time. None of them had had any sleep for a day, but it did not show yet. The rising sun gave them renewed energy.
The terrain became a sea of rolling hills. One could see from the higher rises that it went on for many miles. Brown grass, low brush, and rounded stones jutted out. The land felt much drier than the lowlands north of Riverlok. Still, Kalo wondered why he had seen no cattle or sheep. No sign of man’s presence appeared anywhere. Yet this land lay only a day’s hike from Riverlok’s Northgate.
Quillen knew the land. Hasdel knew it too, though not as well as the hunter. But Kalo and Ty had never ventured this far west. In fact, they’d crossed the river into the West Bank on only a few occasions. They had made plans many times to journey to places they had heard of, knowing only that they were far away. The two young Rivermen had ventured east a half-day’s walk a few times, until they became hungry. They talked of someday hiking over the mountain ridge behind Riverlok and walking to the sea, but they never had. Kalo longed to see the land of his father. The country to the east lay green and timbered, not at all like this rocky, barren ground west of the river.
When the four had begun their travel earlier in the day, they purposely avoided the worn trail used by traders, which followed the Silvertongue to Riverlok. As planned, they moved two hours to the north of the trail, then turned westward parallel to the trail. Occasionally Hasdel would look back to the east. He had assumed the role of rear guard. Each time he looked, Kalo looked too. They walked in single file among the rocks. Quillen and Ty had moved so far ahead, the company became two hiking groups, not one. When the path widened, Hasdel and Kalo walked two abreast. The young Riverman enjoyed this time the most. Hasdel was in good spirits and would willingly reply to each question put to him at great length, much to the delight of his knowledge-starved young companion.
So Kalo asked, “What’s exactly is a gava?”
Hasdel first looked back up the trail, then behind him. He smiled and looked at the boy. “Gavas are messengers of the king. We carry messages between officers of the command, among other duties.”
“Is it dangerous?” asked Kalo.
Hasdel laughed softly. “No, not really. Not like it used to be. When we were in the academy, we were told that in the beginning, in the time of the One Great War, it was very dangerous, and few gavas lived beyond their early twenties. That’s how the tradition began of using only young unmarried men without families as gavas, such as us Kingston boys. We are chosen when we are young, and we attend an academy for messengers.”
“Why do you wear that leather strap about your neck?” asked the young Riverman.
“It began as a sign of allegiance to our king; it is like when a man places a collar on a dog, or a halter on a horse when he takes possession. In time, the enemies of the king learned to target only those who wore the leather strap to disrupt communications, so the king issued an order to remove the strap because so many of us were being slain. But the body of messengers respectfully disobeyed, for the strap became our badge of honor.” Hasdel playfully cocked his head and raised his finger to keep Kalo from speaking. “And we learn early on we are called gavas because ‘gava’ means ‘messenger of the king’ in elvish.” Hasdel smiled at his young companion. “Think you’d like to be a gava, lad?”
Kalo shrugged his shoulders; he thought little of himself now with so much to learn. “Have you ever seen an elf?” he asked.
“We are full of questions. Good ones, too,” said the gava. Hasdel stretched his neck to search far ahead as they continued to walk, and then he answered. “Yes, I have seen an elf,” he began. “When I am not on patrol, I live in Cayleon, and occasionally an elf will come into the city. Not often. They’re a private race.”
“What do they look like?”
Hasdel thought for a moment. “They are beautiful. Not like a woman—not even like a handsome man. They are just a pleasure to gaze upon.” Hasdel smiled as they walked, reminiscing. “And they are quick, very quick,” added the gava. “In fact, you look like you may have some elf blood in you, Kalo.” A smile spread over his face. “You are a little darker than most elves I’ve seen, but the girls take to you. Like the table maid at the Kingfisher, and I saw how Katya at Quillen’s inn followed you. You may be blessed with the charm of the elves!”
Kalo wondered. The idea fascinated him so that he did not reply. He became lost in his own thoughts.
The gava continued. “Then again, maybe all fishermen have the look of the elf.” Hasdel then looked at Kalo and said, “Perhaps we will see some elves near Me
lda.” With that, the gava strode forward and the young Riverman fell in behind him.
They climbed steadily up the hill barren of trees. Brush, tall dry grass, and thorny weeds formed the only vegetation except for a few wildflowers that had lost their foliage months before. The terrain grew even rockier as they moved up the hillside. A few large boulders dotted the landscape as they drew nearer the crest. Hasdel now watched the ground more closely. He looked about in all directions. Kalo plodded along, his head down. Soon they walked in single file again, with Hasdel leading the way.
Quillen and Ty were waiting for them when they reached the crest. Ty picked a boulder with a cutaway shelf to support his young frame as he leaned into it, his legs dangling, his arms crossed. Kalo became annoyed when he saw Ty looking down on them from his perch. Ty had found a site with a superb view. The spot provided room for only one, and Ty had claimed it. From here, one could see the rugged plains they had just crossed and a far-off gray patch in the eastern sky from the fires that marked the city of Riverlok. The way Ty looked down on them as they came up the trail irritated Kalo. He sensed a triumphant arrogance. Kalo ignored him.
Quillen sat hunkered down. When Hasdel and Kalo reached them, the hunter stood and took out a chew of dried beef. It served as a signal for the others to eat as well.
Hasdel continued to scan the land in all directions. He jumped up to the boulder Ty occupied and then, in a few quick leaps that none of the others could match, flew past Ty so that he now stood on the top of a boulder as high as a two-story house in Riverlok, looking down on the others.
Quillen called up to the gava, “You saw them, too.”
“I am afraid this matches a dispatch I delivered two weeks ago to Prince Andre. Raxell reported gnoll activity moving south.”
“We counted fifteen to twenty,” injected Ty. He smiled knowingly at Kalo, raising his eyebrows.
Kalo’s stomach turned.
Chapter 15
Hasdel bounded down the boulders to the ground as quickly as he had gone up. Once back at ground level, he turned and looked up to the young thief turned tracker, still on his perch, and nodded in agreement.
Ty mouthed the word to his bewildered young companion, Kalo. “Gnolls.”
“How long ago were they here, hunter?” asked the gava.
“Yesterday,” came the grim reply.
“They’re not a hunting party.”
“I can’t imagine what they would hunt in this desolate place, either,” replied Hasdel.
“And it’s possible there were many more than twenty. They’re walking in a column together, not spread out like normal,” said Quillen.
“Very worrisome, hunter. I’m feeling a great draw to abandon our trek and head immediately for Boor’s Cavern to alert Raxell,” said Hasdel.
“How close to the Commander do you think the accused murderer of the king’s only son would get?” said Quillen.
“Maybe they just came up here for the view,” offered Ty, unknowingly breaking the tension that was building.
The two veterans looked at one another for a moment.
“That’s quite a student you have there, hunter,” said Hasdel with a smile at Quillen.
“He could be right,” replied the weathered hunter. “Now let’s get on with our trek, as you called it.”
Ty and Kalo both heard the exchange, but Kalo would not look up at Ty. The talking ended. Kalo felt anxious, more because he sensed the concern of the hunter and the gava than due to a fear of gnolls. The young Riverman had heard of gnolls but had never seen one. Only an hour before, Kalo had asked Hasdel whatever came into his mind. Now he was unwilling to do so. He wasn’t sure why.
The party broke camp after what Kalo considered a troubling conversation. Quillen and Hasdel agreed the four would fare better if they split up and traveled in pairs. Four against twenty had no better odds than two against twenty. This way, if two should be discovered, the other two would have a better chance to escape. Quillen had given Hasdel general directions to the Ruins of Melda so the gava could continue without him. Melda lay far south of the Silvertongue and not on a trade route. Consequently, the king’s messenger had never been there. The discussion and decision to travel in pairs had been quick and so matter-of-fact that Kalo had been stunned into silence. The boys did not even look to one another for acknowledgment; each became lost in his own fear of the unseen, the unknown. Quillen and Ty went ahead and at a quickened pace.
Hasdel and Kalo trailed at a distance, both constantly searching their surroundings. This time Kalo did not simply mimic Hasdel’s motions but searched the landscape for any unusual sign, hoping not to see one. They walked in single file, yet Kalo remained close enough to be easily heard. After a time, he broke the silence.
“Hasdel?”
“Yes?”
“May we talk?”
The king’s messenger nodded, and the conversation resumed. They continued in single file, Kalo trailing closely behind Hasdel.
“Who is Raxell? You mentioned him earlier to Quillen.”
“Raxell is Commander of the entire Realmsguard—all seven patrols,” replied Hasdel. “You might have heard it said that he can never come into a city. It is true. He never enters a city, neither Cayleon nor Riverlok, but it is his choice, Kalo. He is a great and noble commander, loved by his men, and loyal to King Lathos. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
The Riverman had never heard of Raxell, let alone a tale of mystery regarding him. “Why won’t he come into a city?”
Hasdel then told the tale of Raxell, a tale every young gava learned early. “Raxell was a promising young officer thirty years ago. He was the youngest of the seven Guard Commanders. He had married a beautiful daughter of a wealthy man. They chose to live in a remote dwelling on the estate away from others, as the serenity appealed to them both. Within a year, she was with child. While on leave, Raxell, in jest as young lovers do, paid a surprise visit to his bride, the young mother-to-be. His visit so excited her, it is said, that she delivered the child, a boy, months early and with no midwife present. The only one present was the young officer, Raxell, her husband. The child died within the first day, and she died in Raxell’s arms two days later.”
Hasdel paused for a time and looked about. Kalo looked about as well, hoping there would be no reason for the storytelling to end. The gava continued the tale without missing a word. “It is said Raxell blamed himself for his wife and firstborn son’s death, and that it threw him into deep despair. He lost all sense of reason. He went on a spree of drinking and wild carousing in the gutter of Cayleon that rivaled any soldier before him. He abandoned his guard.” Hasdel had a distant wonder on his face as he told the tale. “Then, after nearly a year, he unexpectedly appeared before his commander. He asked for forgiveness, and as punishment for his unbecoming behavior, he asked that he be assigned for life to the most remote outpost of the Realm. That was the Realmsguard outpost at Boor’s Cavern, where he has been ever since. Over the years, he has risen to the rank of Commander of the entire Realmsguard. The Guard’s headquarters are in Cayleon, yet Raxell keeps his residence at Boor’s Cavern. It’s the most northern outpost, even more remote than Desolation. He has never returned to the city in all these years, neither to Cayleon nor to Riverlok. Even King Lathos respects his self-exile and bestowed the full command of the Realmsguard upon Raxell at a ceremony outside the city gates of Cayleon.”
Hasdel concluded his tale of Raxell with a nod to Kalo, who now walked alongside him. It was a good telling of the story. Hasdel had obviously told it many times to new troopers and especially to young gavas.
Kalo asked, “Have you ever talked to him?”
Hasdel laughed slightly. “Of course. I am in his command. I am a king’s messenger, remember?” But the question seemed to steer Hasdel into deeper thought for just a moment. “He is a gentleman. But he has no close friends. The Realmsguard and its mission are his life.” A smile then came to his lips. “A captain once told me Raxell
said I ran like he did when the officers were watching a group of us race. That captain teased me for years about being Raxell’s favorite.” Kalo could see the pride Hasdel felt in that simple recognition, and as an orphan, he understood.
The two walked on without speaking. The terrain grew steeper and the footing more perilous. Smooth boulders and loose gravel created a surprisingly hazardous passageway. They watched their footing carefully. The young Riverman slipped and fell, but he quickly got up and was moving again. Suddenly, Hasdel thrust out his arm to signal a halt. Kalo stopped too quickly, lost his balance, and fell again. Hasdel gestured with his hand, waving for the young man to stay where he lay and not to move. Kalo’s complexion reddened as fear rushed blood through his body.
Hasdel squatted and began to inhale deep breaths through his nose. An odor had stopped him, and he tried to rediscover the smell. Kalo tried, too. Abruptly, Kalo smelled it. He looked at the gava, who had caught the same odor on a slight gust of wind. They had been breathing dust and the sweet scent of dried grass and tarweed for most of the morning. This smell was different, like a dead, decaying animal on a hot summer day. It lingered over them. Whatever its cause, the source was not far. They sat still and listened for sounds. Hasdel then motioned for Kalo to move out of sight under a large outcropping boulder.
The young Riverman reached out and grabbed the gava’s sleeve. With the other hand, he pointed in the direction of the scent. There was no uncertainty in his gesture. Hasdel nodded to the boy and his eyes narrowed. He moved forward in the direction the young thief had indicated. Kalo then crawled on his hands and knees to the nearby cover. He felt weak, his arms barely able to support his weight. A deep pain welled up in his stomach. The impulse to vomit began to build so that he started to breathe rapidly. He hid his head in the shade of the rock. Sweat ran down his face and into his eyes. Hasdel had left him there.
The gava moved slowly forward. He knew the smell well. He could not be sure whether he would come upon a few or an entire party. Part of his instincts told him to take Kalo and slowly backtrack out of the area. Another part of him pushed him forward. Why would they be here, out in the open in midday, and making no sound? Were they asleep? It didn’t make sense. He crawled on, peering around a rock, then pulling back, peering, pulling back, inching his way toward the putrid smell.
The Ruins of Melda Page 9