“Joshein?” Maven questioned as they both stood idly in the middle of the roadway as Maven’s gaze still occasionally shifted upwards cautiously. “Are we following?” he asked, waving both hands in gesture down the road.
“That knight,” he muttered. “What does he think himself for? What of us? We’re only three of us, as well as a servant and falconer! If anything they’d get in the way and he expects us to liberate a camp of these child bandits? Has he gone mad?”
“What? So you’re just going to abandon the knight, Joshein?”
“No! I’m making the wise decision while he and his entourage trot away into oblivion and death.” Turning his back he threw his hand up into the air, saying, “Follow if you wish, old friend. We have not served Carthol for six years. We faced great odds, my friend: the battle of Pillared Fort eighteen years after the First Exanthian War, two to one. The siege on Pynearial Shores twenty years after the First Exanthian War, three to one odds, and the invasion of Gosis, four to one, and don’t forget when I pulled you from the depths of Xanthian once our ship was rammed broadside…”
“I get it, Joshein!” Maven abruptly admitted. “I was there too, don’t forget. But what do you mean by all this?”
“Neither of us has survived each of those encounters in the name of Myndre and our lord Mortemy only to be sent to slaughter by some incompetent knight atop a high horse who can’t realize we may be possibly outnumbered ten to one.”
“But…Joshein, my friend,” Maven began, sure that Joshein may have simply forgotten a well-known fact. “Do you not remember who Venneith is?” Joshein seemed slightly muddled by the question, thinking only that Venneith was the knight. However, before he cold verbally answer, Maven answered first, exclaiming, “He’s the famous Black Knight! Have you already gotten so used to him? He’s the master of the fury of fire, the one who slayed Badkiln’s pirates and a dragon, Joshein, just three days ago! And look what he did with the prize. He took that lil’ thing in and made it his pet, so please my friend come with me and follow him because you’re not the Javen Duo without me, and neither am I without you!”
“The Javen Duo,” Joshein muttered with a shake of his head as he couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto his lips. “Let us never change the name, Maven,” he said, patting his friend on the back, leading him along before they both broke into a run.
“I’d never think of it, not in a hundred years.”
Chapter eleven
*“‘Now I assume these bandits may have moved their patrols down the road a mile or two (I’ve seen them myself and dare not to go further along such an open, well-traveled route) so I’ve made the resolution to abandon the roadway heading west of this here marked tree. Various branches have been torn from a tree, rehung and tied, along with a shard of rock that will be lodged within the trunk of the tree. This is where you’ll start before the next mark if I do so find or make one (preferably with stone).’*” Looking over it once more Maven gaze shifted from the journal to the knight as he sat atop Astregra before the landmark beside the road. “I find this a strange way to mark a waypoint.”
Joshien only patted Maven, saying, “Ah, it may appear odd but to those not looking for it, that’s all it is. Just odd.”
Maven only nodded his head in minor agreement before moving to the next paragraph where the next waypoint was specified and described in fine detail. “‘Trees are a fine help when looking about from the apex of branches, yet my next waypoint is marked by stones I’ve raised in subtle formation to form a kiteshield. From any angle they’ll appear as some odd upright rocks, but from the correct angle the sum of their shapes will come together just nicely and discreetly. That said, you’ll use the perspective as your new heading to the next waypoint.’ Err,” Maven stammered as he looked over the edit that must’ve come later in his venture. “He corrected ‘waypoint’ to the ‘bandit location.’”
“Not the most creative tag,” Trent now spoke a bit cheerfully, looking happy just to be here. “Nevertheless we have our next landmark, to the west!” he announced triumphantly, garnering an auspicious screech from Varrult in response.
“Well, my knight,” Joshien addressed, obediently and reluctantly, as he stood straight, arm rested on the hilt of his blade, ready for anything. “On your word, shall we depart?”
The knight took a brief moment as he looked to the west and into the mildly dense forest. With Nerr peeking around the side of Venneith as he rested on the back portion of the saddle, the knight asked, “Maven, read the location of the kiteshield rock formation once again, please.”
The way in which the knight spoke seemed ominous, compelling Nerr to even look up with concern as if something was or had gone wrong. However, Maven wasn’t going to be the one to ask, instead he did as instructed, rereading the passage the agent had written to the letter.
“Just as I suspected,” Venneith muttered, tilting his head down in vexation.
“My knight?” asked Maven, as if he’d somehow made some mistake, an error which the knight found dissatisfying. “Have I missed something or done wrong?”
“No,” Venneith simply answered. “Our spy never gave us a proper heading from this tree. What direction are we to travel?” he asked, pulling on the reins as he turned Astregra to face infantrymen. “West? How far west? Is the direction we are to travel closer to the North or the South of west, and what obstacles lie in between?” Aiming Astregra perpendicular to the marked tree, he pointed, saying, “He gave no indication. That stone, he could’ve pointed us off with it but instead it lies embedded to further distinguish an already easily distinguishable landmark.”
“Perhaps he intended to return,” Amyth solemnly suggested. “The notes sound rather personal than instructional, albeit they do refer to some third party. But then again, he could’ve been writing to himself.”
“Maybe so,” Venneith simply said. “But now we’re at an impasse. Either we blindly wander into the forest or follow the road straight into an ambush.”
“Well, not to flatter you, Venneith, but seeing you they might just pass up the chance than risk being obliterated by your…excellence…of course,” Maven assured the knight.
“Then we have no chance of finding these juveniles.”
Raising a hand, Trent stepped forward as he held his chin in thought. “Or perhaps this is a great opportunity for a falconry lesson, yeah?”
“Falconry?” Joshien asked. “Of all the time we have, you choose now?”
Petting Varrult’s neck Trent said, “And why not now? Currently we’re in a bit of a predicament, so why not use this time to develop your skill, Venneith, as a falconer?” Holding out his arm he let Varrult perch himself on the leather bracer as he walked up to Venneith and his horse. “Now, on the floor with me, Venneith.”
“Are we really going to do this now?” Joshien doubtfully questioned.
Looking down to Trent eagerly awaiting him to obey, the knight sighed before subtly nodding his head. “Joshien and Maven, keep watch. Amyth, secure my horse,” he commanded before dismounting Astregra and handing the reins to Amyth. Venneith then took Nerr from that bag and into his arms, to which the dragon didn’t object much aside from the constant gnawing out of interest and taste for the burnt armor.
“If that’s what you say, my Knight,” Joshien obeyed as he turned his back to begin patrolling. “Come now, Maven,” he said with a wave. “We’ll keep watch.”
“Yes, sir!” Maven answered as he followed promptly, always able to obey his friend’s command with little issue, even as he began to hear Joshien mutter beneath his breath words of obscenity as if he was annoyed. Perhaps it was at the knight and how he handled the situation for better or for worse, or perhaps it was the situation itself that presented itself in no better way. In any case he couldn’t help but wrap an arm around Joshien’s shoulder quite suddenly saying, “Aw, cheer up, won’t you? Perhaps while they practice their falconry we can move a bit of dirt together; you your fire and me and my water as well, y
eah?”
Joshien couldn’t help but be tempted; it had been a while since they practiced any Euth that favored them. Often their time was spent with meager blades and armor, practicing methods of parries, reposts, blocks, counters, swings and stabs. Blades were suitable against most enemies, but for those few clad in armor — Black Knight Venneith for one, a full cataphract of a man — blades were nothing but useless.
The gods of Euth, however, provided much better alternatives for dispatching such a threat in much the same way those adept at dark magic could summon their bound blades to deal with various confrontations, provocations or incursions. However, in the way dark magic allowed for an armory’s worth of weaponry to be at one’s disposal, the wielding of Euth was a lot more…intuitive.
Purely out of logistical interest Joshien already began to throw a scenario together. Take the favor of Keuth, god of earth and dirt, against… oh, say Venneith for example. That armor would be impenetrable. However, through dirt, perhaps Joshien would be fortunate enough to land a blunt boulder on the head of Venneith. Perhaps if, given enough focus and control, he could even bury the knight beneath a small vortex of earth, eliminating the threat altogether.
Then again, Venneith had fought manny before, those proficient in the art of dark magic or those favored by any number of gods of Euth. No doubt he’d practice his proficiency in the wielding of Deuth, god of fire and wielded by fury, and burn Joshien to a crisp before he could even raise a wall to defend himself. Perhaps Joshein himself could also call upon Deuth, but then again the knight’s proficiency in Deuth would quickly overwhelm him, pushing Joshien to fear rendering both his Euths, Keuth and Deuth, void and useless, for the Euths frown upon fear and turned away from those who fell to it.
But now Joshien was getting caught up in his own imagination, full of battle fantasies and defensive scenarios, for he had much to draw on from his time in the heat of the second Xanthian war. Regardless, that’s all it was, simply pondering outcomes, but oh how interesting it was to daydream yet not think, for thinking was a dangerous pastime indeed.
“Kneel with me, Venneith,” Trent requested as he took to one knee, with Varrult perched on his protective leather brace.
Doing as asked, the knight lowered himself to one knee as Nerr rested within his grasp. The dragon didn’t seem too reluctant, especially whenever Varrult was near. Even now Nerr tried his best to distance himself from the feathery bird, nearly slipping out of Venneith’s grasp, before the knight softly pinned the dragon between his chest and both forearms in one securing embrace. Here Nerr seemed to be at ease, more or less, as within the embrace of the knight he had come to believe Venneith would protect him at all costs.
Yet the embrace of Venneith wasn’t enough to deter Varrult’s insidious speech. “Hey, Nerr ol’ friend,” he whispered as Trent began to speak. “Listen, friend, let me grant you my advice when it comes to the hunt, yes…?”
“Now, Venneith,” Trent eagerly began. “Now we have two options, as has been previously stated: either get lost in the forest, or risk not being attacked by the bandits. However, Varrult here is an excellent scout. We could have him fly down the road and return with his findings, but I want my lesson to be inclusive to your little friend Nerr. For that we’ll send these two into the forest together to find the rock formation for us, you hear?”
Venneith nodded his head but had one single question. “How is Nerr going to understand what to do? All he knows is to go anywhere I tell him. Specific instructions are far beyond his capabilities.”
“Aye, I agree,” Trent answered. “That is why Varrult will go. He’ll guide little Nerr through the forest and find that rock formation for us.”
Venneith had to pause for a moment before clarifying, “The bird? Varrult will guide Nerr?” It was hard to believe. Venneith knew Varrult was intelligent, but he could hardly believe that he was this sophisticated. “How can he do this?” Venneith asked. “How does he know how to help little Nerr to any degree.”
“It’s fascinating, I tell you,” Trent excitedly testified. “Varrult seems to have a way with fellow falconers and their birdies. I’ve seen it myself; he guides them when they’re confused. Just look now,” he said, pointing to Varrult as he produced low, chortling notes from his throat, directing them at Nerr as if to communicate. “He’s already making friends, aren’t yeh?” He asked, kneading the gyrfalcon’s head.
“You’ll make them suffer. You’ll disembowel them one bloody organ at a time as you pin them beneath your claws and lay waste to their being, desecrating every inch of flesh, painting a canvas of blood, making them wail as they plead for mercy;, but you will give none. You will never reprieve as you tear flesh from bone, bone from muscle, organ from tissue, and eyes from skull, never granting them death until you see fit! You and I are predators, killers by instinct! So made by Lynthre, so enabled by her, so granted and privileged she has made us to act so feral. Let us embrace our horrific nature and desecrate every beautiful bit of nature so that innocence cannot be gained without a wealth of innocence lost!”
Nerr blankly stared back, having understood the words yet drawn no meaning from them to any degree.
Trent happily grinned. “See, they’re already getting along fine. Now let me direct Varrult!” Turning his arm he ushered for Varrult to face him directly. “Now, friend, point me north!” As asked, Varrult rotated his head until he was aiming slightly to the right of the narrow roadway. “Good, good, friend,” Trent complimented before nudging Varrult’s beak until it was aiming straight down the roadway. “You are to travel west from this heading for less than three-quarters of a mile. Look for a rock formation in the shape of a kiteshield, yeah?”
Venneith could only look on as Trent shamelessly spoke to Varrult as if the avian could understand a single word he was saying.
“Most likely this particular rock formation will take shape when looking from ground level so if you spot anything suspicious then look at it again from my height,” Trent explained, holding a hand directly over his head to indicate his height. “Understood?”
“T-Trent,” Venneith began. “You can’t except a mere bird to understand all of what you’re saying.”
“Shh,” Trent whispered before continuing with Varrult. “Oh, and take lil’ Nerr with you, yeah? He may not be able to fly but perhaps you can teach him. Just remember to go slow, yeah?” Varrult chirped to Trent, compelling Nerr to mimic it back simply out of habit. “Good boy. Do this and there’ll be many treats to be had, understood?” This time Varrult let out an ear-piercing screech out of pure excitement. “Good!” Trent announced before excitedly pointing his arm off to the west. “Now fledge and find us that landmark!”
With one last final screech Varrult took to the skies, landing on a high-hung branch of a tree only to gaze back down at Nerr to sing tunes bidding the dragon to follow. “Now c’mon, friend!” Varrult called. “We have a duty to do and minced meat to make, yeah?”
Yet Nerr hesitated, choosing instead to back further into the grace of Venneith. “Y-you hurt me?” Nerr called back, too unsure of himself.
“It was in good fun,” Varrult answered. “I’ll make it up to you, but for now just accept this apology and come soar with me.”
Again the dragon hesitated, but once urged by the knight — a soft nudge forward and an utterance of words assuring the dragon — Nerr felt comfortable with Venneith’s willingness to entrust Nerr’s protection to Varrult the Gyrfalcon. To Nerr this would be another opportunity for exploration and discovery. To Nerr this would be rather exciting and fulfilling, knowing that his protector’s trust lay with him to carry out whatever task Varrult swore to explain as the gyrfalcon took Nerr deep into the forest. For now, however, Nerr had yet to learn to fly and, not knowing how to traverse the landscape, he first scurried across the road to the base of the tree Varrult was perched upon.
“Hey…hey, Nerr,” called a familiar voice. “G-good luck with your task.”
“Wh-who?” Nerr asked
as he looked about himself suddenly before his gaze fell upon Benphal, the larger beast. “Oh,” Nerr said in remembrance. “Hi!”
“S-sorry if I scared you back into your bag.” Benphal lowered his head so that he could see the black little dragon more closely, bringing himself down to about Nerr’s hight, leaving his snout to hover just above the grass. “Heh, I can’t quite help looking big and imposing as Varrult said.”
“Imposing?” Nerr first asked. “No, you’re just… big. Yeah, big!”
Benphal couldn’t help but laugh as he lightly threw his head up, causing Nerr to do the same out of habit before chirping. “Well, I can’t really help being big now, can I, lil’ dragon? Perhaps my size won’t scare you further, yeah?”
“Scary?” Nerr questioned. “You’re not scary. Why, w-what’s there to you to be scared of?”
Meanwhile, Venneith, Amyth and Trent could only look on as Nerr and Benphal seemed to communicate. Nerr chirped and lowly chortled only for Benphal to huff and snicker about.
“Ha,” Benphal laughed. “I’ve been mislead, haven’t I?” he asked, looking to Varrult whose gaze held itself far beyond the horizon, perhaps out of interest but more likely out of blatant guilt. Then, lowering his head to the little dragon so that his snout nearly nudged him, Benphal said, “Such a fine little thing you are. We could be friends, but you have a task and I shouldn’t impede you any longer.” Nodding his snout forward, he urged Nerr to hop on. “Be careful with your claws, yeah, friend?”
“Friend?” Nerr questioned excitedly before wrapping both forearms around the snout of the beast. “Yes, Nerr would love to be friends with such a powerful beast!”
“C-c-claws!” Benphal stammered, resisting the urge to throw his head back, flinging Nerr into the air. Instead he steadily leveled his head to so that Nerr wouldn’t have to rely on his claws to hang on. Given the stability, Nerr steadied himself and stood atop Benphal’s head just above the blind spot between his eyes, his tail resting on the nape of Benphal’s neck.. “There ya are, lil’ Nerr. H-hey, stubborn dame,” he called to Astregra. “I-I wear a dragon hat! Look!”
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