Within a few steps the familiar smells of a kitchen wafted over him. “Mmm. Either I am going mad or that is fresh bread baking.”
“Oh, aye! Still, you will no enjoy that smell for long. The Human quarters be in a small hallway behind those ovens that do bake that bread.” She let out a sniff. “It be nice and warm in the winter… and miserably hot in the summer.”
Opening his mouth to ask a question that had been plaguing him since the two were in front of the Hon’Vanria, Alant shut it with a click as an Elmorr’Antien stepped from a small doorway just ahead. Taking an additional step before realizing that Shaith had stopped, Alant quickly backed up and stood next to her. The Elmorr’Antien approaching them looked much the same as any he had seen so far in Hath’oolan.
Though this one has a bluish tent to his skin.
About a hand taller than Alant himself, gray-blue skin stretched tight over emaciated-looking arms and legs. A light-blue silk robe—more of a long shirt since it stopped well above his knees—did little to hide the thinness of the torso beneath. If anything, the robe accentuated it. Without pause, the Elmorr’Antien glided down the corridor toward the two of them.
Alant thought he should bow, yet since Shaith was simply waiting, he decided he would follow her lead. The Elmorr’Antien tilted its teardrop shaped head slightly and Shaith immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Good eve, Vanria Delmith.” Awkwardly, Alant joined her by adding his bow.
“It is a good eve at that, yes?” Turning his large black-liquid eyes upon Alant, the Vanria smiled thinly. “And you must be our newest, hmm?”
“Aye, Vanria. I am Alant Cor. Newly arrived from the Chandril’elian of Mocley.” Reaching into the pockets of his robe, he realized he had left the Silrith’tar in the pockets of his old shirt. “I have a Silrith’tar here somewhere, Vanria.” He started to unwrap the bundle of clothes he had carried forgotten under his arm, and stopped with a wave from Vanria Delmith.
“You would not have made it to the Chandril’elian had you not had the authority to do so, yes?” Vanria Delmith tilted his head once more. “It is late, younglings, and the morrow promises to be taxing for young Cor, here. I will see you formally in the morn, yes?”
“Good eve to you, Vanria Delmith.” This time Alant was more prepared, and bowed in unison with Shaith’s curtsy.
Looking over his shoulder at the Vanria gliding away from them, Alant’s spirits rose. “He is the first of the Elmorr’Antiens I have met that made me feel welcome.”
And the first the Tarsith did not grow cold from.
A sheepish grin popped to his reddening face at Shaith’s giggle.
“Well, at least the first that did not make me feel unwelcome.”
Continuing down the hall, Shaith turned and stepped through a small archway that led into a hall thinner than any he had yet seen in the building. Tiny doors, much the same size as his bedroom door back at his home stead, lined the walls five deep. Shaith made a gracious flurry with her arm. “Welcome to the Human Quarters, Alant.”
“There are only ten rooms?” He was shocked. Hath’oolan was the center of Essence learning. How could there be so few Humans.
“Alas, that be double what we need. Though the last two doors be the lavatories.” She eyed him sternly. “The one on the left be mine alone! You boys use the one that be on the right.” Stopping at the second to the last door on the right, she lifted the latch and walked in. “Till you arrived, we did only have three in residence here this last turn of the seasons.”
Only three other Humans!
The room was tiny, yet no smaller than the room he had occupied in Mocley. Light from a small stone set against the far wall sprang to life as they entered. A skinny bed was built against one wall and a small mirrored stand with a washbasin on top stood next to the door. Pegs lining the other wall for hanging belongings on rounded out the accommodations. Several white robes hung on the pegs, each with a golden belt dangling over them, and two pairs of golden slippers rested beneath them on the white tiled floor.
Shaith took the two paces to cross the room and plopped down upon his bed. “It be small, yet it be all they do give us.”
Glancing around the room, Alant did not feel cheated. His room at the Chandril’elian in Mocley was the same size. The disappointment in Shaith’s voice about the room sparked his memory. “When we were in the Hon’Vanria’s office he called you Princess. What did he mean?”
A sassy grin and a twinkle in her eye said she was up to no good. “Just what he said. I be Shaith Ku’rin, High Princess of Mu’shadar, Keeper of the Chalice, Reader of the Scrolls, and Hand of the King’s Justice.” Rising gracefully, she strode past him and stopped in the doorway. “Only now you can add Initiate of the Elmorr’Antiens to that list.” She did not sound happy to add that last title.
Feeling his mouth drop wider as her title grew, Alant felt dizzy. “So you are royalty or something?”
Looking up to him with her large jade eyes, she smiled. Yet the smile was not a happy one. “I did be, and may be again. Never did one of the Family be found with the gift to Meld before.” She twisted the word ‘gift’ into something akin to a curse. “I do hope things will return to normal upon my return.” Her wicked grin slipped back in place. “My room be the first on the left, just so you know.” With that, she bade him good eve and shut his door as she left.
Dropping his bundle of old clothes and sack of belongings in one corner, he sat upon the bed and looked around once more at the small room.
Well, I have arrived!
A pang of homesickness washed over him and he forced it away. Rising, he started preparing for bed.
Clytus Rillion’s patience was taxed further over the next tenday as the scouts searched for a suitable base camp site. Skirting the edge of the mountainous range, the group inched its way northeast into the foothills of the Nektine. On many occasions they were forced to backtrack and go around a gorge or any number of other natural obstacles the wagon train could not circumvent.
Thankfully, other than the one eve, rain has not hounded us. That, at least, is something!
Riding ahead of the wagons, as he had done of late, Clytus guided his brown destrier, Starborn, past a scraggly tree. Its thorny branches, gnarled like the hand of a crippled beggar, reached into the sky. The sky itself had taken on a bleached overcast hue, which did little to restrain Clytus’ foul mood.
A clack of stone brought him out of his self-deprecating solace. Whipping a hand to the hilt of his sword, he reined in his mount and scrutinized the terrain ahead. Within moments, Hindar rounded a bend—his scoutmaster’s mare sending a tiny avalanche of slate cascading down the steep slope as it descended.
Relaxing, Clytus nudged his warhorse forward. “A tenday, Hindar! A full tenday and we still wander eastward seeking a passage into these accursed mountains!” It pleased him that his shout startled the scoutmaster.
At least I can still sneak up on folks.
“Aye! These blasted cliffs offer no admittance!” Master Hindar reined in his skinny roan at the bottom of the slope and waited for Clytus to approach. “Every crack we penetrate seems to end before we traverse half a league.” A smile sprang to his lips. “Still, I do think I have found your campsite.”
Reining in his horse, Clytus reached out and shook Hindar’s offered hand. “Aye? That is good news.” Leaning back in his saddle, he eyed the mountain range ahead. Sunlight barely penetrated the haze to glint off the snow-bound peaks. “And where might this location be?”
Leaning over the side of his mount, Hindar spit. “It will take the wagons the better part of two days to get to the gorge opening, though you cannot miss it. Jam’ees and his crew found it. Says they traveled into it for several leagues without seeing its end. I stationed Jam’ees at its mouth to rest up and wait on you. The rest of my scouts I sent on in to see how far it goes and find a suitable site for your base camp
. They should be reporting back by the time you drag all your wagons up to the gorge.”
Peering over his shoulder, Clytus tried to catch a glimpse of his troop behind him, yet could find no trace of them.
I must have wandered off further than I thought!
“And what of your plans?” Clytus returned his attention to his scoutmaster.
A grin split the man’s face. “A good hot meal and a bedroll thicker than a blanket will sure be welcome after near a tenday in these mountains.”
Clytus chuckled. Spinning his mount toward the west, the two men rode in silence back to the struggling wagon train.
Hindar was correct. It took two full days for the troop to reach the entrance of the pass. The gorge itself was some thousand paces wide. Steep, cliff-like walls wound away into the distance, the center of it panning out into a shallow V, with a small creek trickling over slate rocks that had slid from the sides. The small shrubs and weed-like grass that found a foothold between the rocks would be no trouble for the wagons, and only an occasional gnarled tree dotted the area.
Yet, the incline and loose flat rocks may be a different story.
Hindar and Tylin came strolling up to Clytus, lost in thought. He felt their presence while they waited for him to turn and acknowledge them. “Aye, report.”
“Tylin here feels he has secured us a base camp site. Tell him.”
Clytus noticed the young scout was not overly eager to speak. He nodded for Tylin to begin.
“This gorge stretches on for leagues, Master Rillion, with many a branch off or side trail. We searched as many as we could, and thus far we see no end to the main route nor any access to the ranges above.”
Letting this news wash over him, Clytus nodded. “It is as to be expected. As this is the only break we have found that will allow the wagons admittance, this is the path we shall take.” Walking between the two men, he headed down to the waiting wagons, then paused. “Good job, both of you and all the scouts. We will take the wagons as far in as they will go. If no path is found to ride the horses into the mountains, I will go on foot if needs be.”
Continuing on his way, Clytus called for the wagons to head up the gorge.
A tenday more—and several broken wagon wheels and other setbacks later—and the troop emerged into a vast valley. The lake that took up much of the center of the area was bright blue and crystal clear. Large, lush evergreen trees fanned out from its banks and rose partway up the surrounding mountainside. The scouts had already camped here for several days, and Clytus was happy to see they had not been idle in waiting. A large cleared area stood awaiting the wagons and the placement of a permanent camp.
As soon as the wagons rolled to a stop, Alimia directed the setting up of camp. Clytus stood on a small rise, watching to insure the new leftenant paid attention to placing the camp in a precise, defensible manner. Within an aurns passing, Trilim had a large cooking fire blazing, Hindar had tethered the mounts in a secure area behind the wagons, and tents dotted the area as each man staked out a spot to call home for a while.
All in all, I do not think I could have done a better job.
“Alimia, Hindar, Gartin, Trilim,” Clytus yelled out. “To me!”
The four dropped what they were doing and headed off to join Clytus, who stood gazing out over the slopes ascending into the peaks beyond.
Turning to his people once they all arrived, Clytus looked them each in the eye. “So it begins. Hindar, have your scouts ready to head out at first light. Tell them to keep to groups of four. If they catch sight or sound of our quarry, have them report back immediately and wait here for my return.”
A puzzled look crossed Hindar’s face. “Your return, sir?”
“Aye, I plan to be hunting as well. Alone. A large group may encourage the creatures to keep their distance.”
Alimia responded first. “And you find this course of action wise, sir?”
“I would not have suggested it if I did not.” Looking back at his scoutmaster, Clytus raised a questioning eyebrow.
Hindar cleared his throat and nodded once. “Aye, sir.”
“Trilim, I know you have gotten used to having the boy, Arderi, to do much of your work for you, yet I have a second task that the boy needs to have time for. Gartin, I would very much appreciate it if you would spend a few aurns each day instructing the boy. He has no skill with a blade and little with a bow. I would like this to improve if the boy has any talent whatsoever.”
Both men accepted their tasks with nods and verbal acknowledgments.
“Alimia, I need not remind you of the dangers that lie in these mountains.” Clytus reached out one arm and placed in upon her shoulder. “You are the one I am entrusting to keep the base camp in order, as well as defended. You have the skills. Do not lose your confidence.”
The leftenant nodded.
Clytus flicked a finger over Trilim’s shoulder. “What is the status of our supplies?”
The old man rubbed his chin and paused for a moment. “Losing the one wagon to the Artoc was not a tremendous loss since we split all of the supplies equally between each wagon. I know the days spent finding this camp have frustrated you. Still, if you will recall, we planned on twice that many days, so we are ahead of schedule. I would reckon we have at least four moons worth of supplies before we are to the point where we will need to head back to civilization.”
“Very good.” Looking at them each in turn, Clytus stood in silence for long moments. “So it begins.” Nodding, he walked past the four and headed back to camp.
Arderi Cor collapsed on his sleeping mat. His arms burned, and it amazed him that he had once again found muscles that had never been used. These were stretched and tormented by the events of the last few tendays. His head throbbed from a sharp blow Master Gartin had delivered with the practice sword.
I think the man gets pleasure from smacking me around.
For the most part, the aurns Arderi spent at the base camp had been uneventful. The majority of Arderi’s duties centered on his work with Mir’am Trilim and the preparation of meals for the troop. Commander Rillion only came into camp every tenday or so, and never for more than one eve at a time. The first morn after his arrival, the man would set off again into the surrounding mountains. This frustrated Arderi. He still yearned to understand what had happened during the fight with the O’Arkins. The glowing Crystal hidden inside the man’s sword pommel was another mystery, as well as how any of it connected to him. They had been at this base camp site for over a moon, and all he knew for certain was that the group was in the Nektine Mountains, far to the north of his home stead of Hild’alan.
The stories of the Nektine are deeply interwoven with death or doom whenever mentioned in any bard’s tale I have ever heard.
He also pieced together that, for a reason he had not as of yet discovered, Commander Rillion was in search of a Drakon. A large winged beast of legend that was said to have once ruled much of this land. Arderi had never heard of anyone actually seeing one of the creatures, and did not know if he really believed they existed at all. As far as he knew, they only lived in bard’s tales.
Still, despite the bruises and hard work, Arderi found that he enjoyed his time now that he was no longer afraid Master Rillion would kill him nor throw him out of the troop to find his own way home.
Each day, Mir’am Trilim would wake Arderi before dawn so he could help with firstmeal. This would be followed by cleanup and storage of all the gear. He then would have an aurn or so of free time, which he spent mostly in the company of the young Shaper, Jintrill. Arderi enjoyed the Sier’s company immensely, and loved the stories the Sier told of Mocley and what his brother, Alant, was experiencing as an Initiate. Later, halfmeal would need to be attended to. These meals consisted of dried fruit or beef served with flatbread and cheese, which required little in the way of preparation.
Arderi had thou
ght the entire trip would be spent helping Master Trilim with his cooking and cleaning. However, life changed the day prior to Commander Rillion leaving for his first hunting excursion. The Commander took Arderi to see Master Gartin, the troop’s weapons master, for what he referred to as essential training for anyone wishing to become a mercenary. For three aurns each afternoon since that day, Arderi worked under the tutelage of the grizzly old fighter, who instructed him in the various methods of swordplay. First, he tested Arderi on the knowledge he had gained from the mandatory militia training every able-bodied man was required to take back home. Arderi had always imagined that the monthly trainings would serve him well if the need ever came and he would be required to fight. However, he soon realized how wrong he was.
Master Gartin is a marvelous swordsman! Superior by far than anyone back home.
Arderi sat enthralled listening to the weapons master explain that fighting with a large group, like what he would do if his home stead were attacked, was much different from single, man-to-man combat. They spent their time together divided between discussions and practicing. Practice included both wooden weapons of various types, as well as fighting with no weapons at all. Arderi found the strategic aspects and problems Master Gartin threw at him as exhausting as the physical ones.
Yet, no matter the pain or weariness, lastmeal would be upon them and with it, his duties to Mir’am Trilim and the cook fires.
And now, as Arderi lay on his mat staring up at the canvas roof of his small tent, he felt a contentment he had never before known. “Riln, this is the life we dreamed of so many times. Here I am living it while you are back home, tilling dirt.” Although the feelings of guilt and loss from running away still plagued him, with the passing of each day it diminished a little. Instead of dwelling on the bad feelings, he dozed off with various scenarios of valor playing out in his head.
Farmers & Mercenaries Page 27