by Jake Adler
The Grand Mage sniffed the pot, “Alas, I am no cook but the gruel is ready.”
They ate their rather bland but delightfully hot breakfast in silence. The two prisoners also remained silent, but their eyes followed every movement of Master Bedwyr. As they finally led their horses away from the campsite, Ethan glanced over his shoulder to see that the two men had now begun struggling frantically to escape. By noon, the companions would be in Beshok and soldiers would be sent back to have them arrested. He wondered for a brief moment what their fates would be, but realised quickly that he didn’t care. They had made their choice.
As the day progressed, Ethan’s keen eyes noticed a distant flock of birds circling East of their position. Master Bedwyr followed his gaze, his expression darkening.
“It cannot be,” he whispered with a grimace.
“What is it Master Bedwyr?” Cara asked as she nudged her horse closer.
The Grand master nodded his head towards the darkening skyline. Cara stiffened in her saddle.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ethan.
Master Bedwyr bent forward and reached into his left breast pocket to retrieve the book that Ethan had seen him do now many times. After a few moments of indistinct mumbling he nodded then snapped shut the book.
“We must get off these roads now!” he barked, not waiting for their response. With a sharp nudge of his heels he directed his horse down a steep side path into a nearby shallow ravine and quickly dismounted. Ethan and Cara quickly followed suit. They were fortunate to have stumbled upon a spot within a narrow ravine that was overshadowed by one of the few remaining large oak trees in the area. As they watched, the large flock of birds drew closer.
Seeing Ethan’s confusion Cara leaned in close to whisper, “We think they might be ravens. They are scouting familiars of those who practice the dark arts.”
Ethan kept his gaze distant and nodded curtly.
The creatures were now encircling overhead over a thousand feet above them. From even that great distance, their distant squawks could be discerned above the rustling of the leaves from the giant oak tree. For over an hour, their shadow remained, until finally moving out of sight towards the West.
The time spent hiding had clearly unsettled the Grand Mage. His expression remained strained for some time until he finally reached into his left breast pocket to feel the comforting edges of his favourite book.
After several hours of travelling they reached the outskirts of Beshok. By this time, Master Bedwyr’s face looked calm. “We shall join a trading caravan when we reach the city. This will afford us both increased anonymity and armed protection.” With an authoritative wave of his hand he motioned Cara to join him and instructed her on the use of her spirit ring.
Upon their arrival at the city they left their horses at the stables and immediately passed through the courtyard towards the market square. Beshok was a bustling hive of activity with merchants yelling above the din of the crowd as they attempted to sell practically everything imaginable.
Master Bedwyr immediately headed towards the largest stall in the market square. It belonged to one of the city’s wealthiest merchants, Garagor Neyan. The man was sat behind his stall upon a cushioned high chair, his eyes keenly scanning the crowd.
”You are Garagor?” Master Bedwyr enquired.
”I am indeed!” the man replied with a smile that did not match his dark eyes.
“Some of your trading caravans travel North East?”
“They – do.” Garagor answered hesitantly, his eyes suddenly narrowing.
“We are travelling to Fort Varok and would like to travel with one of your caravans.” Master Bedwyr replied at the man warmly, “we have our own horses and food but expect to recompense you for allowing us to travel with you.”
The man’s eyes scanned every detail of Master Bedwyr’s clothing, items and gait then flicked over to both Cara and Ethan who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. His eyes lingered a moment on the bruise on Cara’s face. “Why would you wish to travel with my caravan? Are you hiding from someone?”
The question was asked with a cheerful smile, but there was no masking its intent.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Master Bedwyr snorted, “My children and I just want to travel more safely.”
It was a bold lie. The man’s eyes had narrowed now to such a point that they were almost slits. After a short pause he spoke, “Three hundred cinterns in advance and a further three hundred when we arrive at the fort.”
Cara inhaled sharply. Master Bedwyr ignored her reaction, fully aware that the games had begun, “Don’t be ridiculous!” he scoffed, “we are merely travelling with you, not wishing to buy all your wagons!”
A ripple of chuckles erupted from a crowd of milling onlookers.
Garagor’s smile never wavered, “My mercenaries will be expected to protect you. That costs me money.”
“The costs remain the same whether we travel with you or not!” Master Bedwyr replied with feigned surprise.
“Not so. They charge per head. I must be recompensed.” Garagor lied, sensing a victory.
Master Bedwyr sighed, raising his half empty coin bag and jingling its contents. The man’s smile rapidly disappeared. “How much money do you have?”
“I can pay you fifty cinterns now and a hundred when we reach Fort Varok.” Master Bedwyr fixed him with a stern gaze.
“That is not enough money,” Garagor responded, clearly irate now, his false smile gone.
Before he had a chance to respond further Master Bedwyr quickly interceded, “Both my children will help you with some chores along the way, as further recompense.”
The man’s lips were now pursed in deep thought. This was not what he had initially wanted, but perhaps he could gain more out of this offer. He nodded and swiftly pocketed the fifty cinterns given by Master Bedwyr. With an unwavering cold smile he warned, “Be at the front gate by six tomorrow morning. Know this, I will not wait.”
“Agreed,” Replied the Grand Mage but by then the man had turned his back on them in a gesture of indifference.
Chapter 9
Vank took a determined breath and sharpened the angle of their descent. It was close to the end of the second day of their journey and they were nearing their destination. They had received exact instructions from Nillapon to hand their message to a man named Axcil Binnadan at the trading outpost. Apparently, he had once saved the life of the High Dragon and was now trusted implicitly.
Ellaminva leaned forward and squinted against the cold air. The outpost was visible and now clearly occupied, its log cabin billowing plumes of smoke out of its chimney stack.
“There!” said Ellaminva as she pointed towards the cabin.
Vank immediately responded to her directions and within moments, they had landed. Ellaminva quickly marched towards the cabin door and knocked. There was no response. She tried again and still no response. Eventually, she plucked up the courage to try the door handle.
“Hello?” She announced, craning her neck around the door. There was no one inside, but a warm fire crackled high within its hearth. She glanced back outside towards Vank, “he must be nearby as –”.
“Didn’t anybody tell you that it’s rude to go into someone’s home without permission?” a deep voice enquired.
Ellaminva spun round to face a very tall man with the deepest green eyes that she’d ever seen. She blinked in both surprise and embarrassment, noting briefly that although his features were very human that he possessed a sizeable set of lower fangs, indicating a mixed heritage of Orcish blood.
“I’m sorry, I – er, did knock but there was no reply,” she mumbled.
In the few seconds of their first meeting, she noted that instead of the usual black hair of Orcs, that his was a deep golden brown. She also noted with surprise that despite his noticeable lower fangs, that his overall facial features were rather handsome. With this realisation, she blushed.
The man smiled warmly, interpreting her reddening f
ace as one of embarrassment for her earlier transgression. “My name is Axcil Binnadan and I am at your service,” he announced with a deep bow.
“Ellaminva Llellyvn.” She mumbled in reply then remembered the reason for her arrival, “we bring you an urgent message from Nillapon.” She promptly handed him the sealed envelope from her backpack.
Axcil nodded in thanks and took hold of the letter. Instead of opening it immediately, he gestured towards the cabin, “Please, both of you, you must be tired by your journey. I have a barn attached to the rear of the cabin for your friend. Help yourselves to both food and water.”
With this, he slowly walked towards the distant rushing waters of the Kalapel to read his message in private. Ellaminva watched him slowly depart.
“Oh goodie, lots of food!” yelled Vank whose distant voice indicated that he had already settled inside the barn. Ellaminva smiled and headed inside.
The cabin possessed an internal door that led directly into the barn. She headed there first to find Vank sat atop several bales of fresh hay, merrily munching upon foot-long pepperoni sausages. He smacked his lips in delight as he popped in one after another into his mouth, closing his eyes with an expression of pure rapture.
“Be careful not to eat him out of house and home.” She wagged a disapproving finger, while stifling a laugh. Satisfied that all was well, she headed back into the main cabin. It was beginning to get dark and she wondered briefly if she should go and look for Axcil. She then immediately dismissed the idea. He must have a good reason for not returning.
She sighed and settled herself into one of the pair of comfortable armchairs located near the fire and busied herself by polishing her weaponry. She must have dozed off, as when she next opened her eyes Axcil had returned and was stood next to the fireplace pouring himself a hot mug of P’Ka. Upon seeing her stir he said, “Would you like some?” he asked, his pan hovering over a second mug.
“Yes please,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes to remove the last vestiges of sleep. The fire was still going strong. He must have added more wood while she slept.
He silently handed her the mug and sat upon an opposite armchair facing the fireplace, “You must both be very tired what with travelling such a distance,” he smiled warmly at her and she felt her heart flutter.
“How did you know?”
“It’s all in the letter,” he leaned forward, his eyes glistening in the firelight.
”We have a problem.”
“What is it?”
“I usually possess the means to contact the High Dragon directly, but of late, I have not been able to. I tried again this evening and have again failed,” he leaned back, his expression troubled.
“Vank mentioned that the High Dragon was at Fort Mavak. Perhaps we could fly straight there?” She asked, not keen to part ways with this interesting man so soon.
Axcil shook his head ruefully, “Your Dragon friend is much too young to carry two people. Besides, I have clear instructions to ensure that you both now return to your Uncle in Lolivam,” his warm eyes twinkled with amusement.
Ellaminva was unsure what exactly was written in the letter but guessed as to its contents and her face burned with a mixture of both anger and embarrassment, “I don’t care about what they’ve written. I’m an adult and I make my own decisions, do you understand me?” She glared at him, jutting her chin forward.
After a short pause, Axcil suddenly threw back his head and laughed. Immediately the tension between them was broken and Ellaminva found herself smiling in return.
“I can see that you care for your weapons”. Axcil finally replied, nodding his approval.
“You have a keen eye,” remarked Ellaminva feeling her face redden. Both the cloth and oil pot that she had used earlier remained close to her chair.
Sensing her discomfort, he arose, “We will discuss this in the morning.”
“No you don’t. You’re not pulling that stunt on me!” she grimaced.
“What are you talking about?”
“This is where I wake up in the morning to find that you have already left without me.” She spoke through clenched teeth, “Know this, that if you do that, I will travel directly to Fort Mavak anyway.”
Axcil’s eyes flashed and he moved towards the fireplace. Silently, he looked within the hearth, seeing its logs crackle amid the heat of its flames. After a short pause he spoke quietly, “What would you have me do?”
The question was asked simply and directly. Ellaminva thought quickly, realizing that her next reply would have far reaching consequences, “The important matter is to inform the High Dragon of the need to attend the Grand Council of the Tuatha Dé Dannan. Any decisions regarding myself are mine to make.”
He turned to face her, immediately seeing the determination in her eyes, “Agreed”. He smiled warmly, “you have my word. We shall decide upon our next course of action at dawn.”
She nodded firmly. She sensed him to be a man of his word. They quickly settled down for the night with Ellaminva gratefully accepting use of Axcil’s bed while he elected to use both armchairs and a camping blanket next to the hearth.
* * * *
A cold frost had settled upon the city of Beshok. Its crowded chimney stacks were peppered with a white spray that refused to depart, despite being touched by the first rays of the winter sun.
Master Bedwyr, Ethan and Cara stood ready just outside of the city’s main gates. They had arrived there early to ensure that Garagor Neyan had no excuse to depart without them.
Close to half past the hour, a thread of trading wagons began to slowly weave their way out of the city. The companions quickly joined the front of the caravan, nudging their horses close to a wagon that was being led by a cheerful looking fellow named Polvin. He informed them of their travel itinerary which included a brief sojourn at Sharak, followed by a lengthier stay at Jaktet and finally onto Fort Varok. In total, it would take them close to ten days before they would reach their destination. With this news Master Bedwyr frowned deeply, but his mood had lightened significantly by midday upon seeing the sizeable number of mercenaries that were accompanying the caravan. They would travel slowly, but they would be safe.
They had spent the remainder of their first day travelling East. There were over fifty wagons and caravans with were over a hundred men, women and children with an entourage of twenty mercenaries protecting their valuable cargo.
The day had warmed up considerably as the sun reached its zenith and the frosts finally started to disappear to be replaced with wet glistening grasslands that slowly swayed in response to the soft Southerly winds. The sky had remained virtually cloudless all day.
They had spent their first night inside the first sectioned encampment. For the purpose of safety, no larger than twenty caravans were permitted in any one singular protective circle, to ensure that if bandits broke through, that it was of a size that could be adequately defended.
“Where should we sleep?” Cara asked, staring at Master Bedwyr in confusion.
Master Bedwyr’s expression was troubled, “Be sure not to accept any food, water, or hospitality from them,” his eyes narrowed, “we agreed with Garagor that we would bring our own supplies, be certain that he will hold us to that promise.”
The first day and night had passed uneventfully and the companions had been left largely to their own devices. By the afternoon of the second day Ethan nudged his horse closer towards Master Bedwyr and spoke cheerily, “This seems to be going very well doesn’t it?”
The Grand Master shook his head ruefully “Don’t be a fool Ethan. Garagor has left us alone the first day to lull us into a false sense of security.” He gave Ethan a stern gaze, “rest assured that he will approach us soon regarding your ‘chores’. Be certain, that he plans to profit from all of us”.
Ethan swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, “What do you suggest that we do?”
“Both of you stay close to me. Accept nothing from them, not a drink of water, nothing, do you underst
and?”
“I understand.”
With a new sense of foreboding, Ethan nudged his horse towards Cara’s and quietly warned her of the situation. The remainder of the second day was spent largely in silence as the companions solemnly contemplated what might happen next. The sojourn at Sharak was brief as it was nothing but a small trading village. Within hours, they were moving on towards Jaktet.
By the evening of the third day as preparations were just completed for the encampment for the evening, Garagor approached them, “Good evening,” he said, with an insincere smile.
“Would you take a cup of P’Ka with me?” Master Bedwyr asked while holding out a hot mug of the liquid.
“Alas, I have just drunk one and have no room for more.” Garagor responded with his eyes narrowing.
A young man appeared from out of the shadows, playing with a short sword that Ethan thought looked familiar to his own and smirking directly at Ethan. On checking his waist belt he found it to be missing.
“Did you lose something?” the young man asked Ethan, his grin growing wider.
Taking a determined breath, Ethan walked over and stood in front of him, “It’s mine. Give it back,” he said then angrily held out his hand.
Before he knew what happened, Ethan was on the ground, pain exploding from his jaw. He tasted his lips to find them bloody.
“Enough!” Garagor barked and the young man lowered his head in submission.
Ethan staggered to his feet and lurched towards the relative safety of Master Bedwyr who was glaring at Garagor, “What do you want?”
“You owe me money,” stated Garagor with a renewed false smile, “so we have agreed to ‘chores’ and I have now decided on what they will be.”
“Go on.”
Your daughter will work each evening with the women, helping to prepare all the meals and washing all the dishes. Your son obviously can’t fight, so he has no value, so I have decided that I will take in payment instead that ring on his finger.” He nodded at Ethan’s spirit ring.