Taragon Stein: The Search For The Soul Crystal

by Jason L Crocker

  Slowly raising my arm, I aimed my weapon level with this threat.

  Again another few creeping inches down the trunk.

  It was then with my crossbow pointing towards him when Jaramel looked up.

  The mage’s eyes flared wide upon the sight before him. His face took on the look of shocked disbelief as he flung his arms out to his sides, letting his book fall to his lap in doing so.

  The spider immediately stopped in its tracks and began twitching excitedly, its rear legs pressed nearer to the bark of the tree, and its whole body seemed to lighten in colour… It had found him.

  Jaramel regained some of his former self. His eyes now flared as flames, I also noticed that his hands were glowing in the darkness as he raised them outstretched towards me.

  “Don’t move!” I yelled in furious tones.

  The spider leapt from its place, but the force of my bolt instantly impaled its body back onto the bark of the tree with a thud! A high-pitched screeching filled the air, as all eight of its legs thrashed frantically against the tree in a desperate attempt to free itself from the bolt.

  Jaramel had dived to the ground. Probably, I thought in an attempt to avoid my bolt. He was currently lying on his back and seeing the thrashing Barkskin for the first time. I let loose my second volley, the bolt pierced its body just under my first and it moved no more, its legs curled inwards into a ball, and was silent.

  I walked to stand over Jaramel before the tree.

  “You would have had me burned,” I said accusingly.

  The mage returned to a sitting position and turned his head once again to look up at the impaled dead spider.

  “I thought…I thought you…” Unable to finish his words his eyes went from the spider and back to me.

  “You thought wrong.” I angered back. “If I had wished you dead young master Ovin, it would have been so by now!”

  Jaramel cast a look to the ground as I fastened my crossbow back in its place.

  The book he had been reading now lay upon the earth. Stooping to collect it, I found its weight to be almost nothing in my hands. A warm glow radiated throughout its cover.

  “If you would spend more time in the real world, and less time with your books, then you may have known not to rest your back against the trunk of a Midnight tree!” Jaramel said nothing as I tossed his book back onto his lap before returning to my stew.

  An approaching light signalled the return of Baram.

  “Mmm, something smells good,” commented Baram as he wandered into the fire’s light.

  “There you go Taragon a handy tool to have that,” he said as the Glowball Staff was passed back into my hands. He then looked over to Jaramel and immediately noticed the Barkskin spider.

  “Jaramel look out !” the big weaponsmith yelled his warning as he leapt over the fire whilst reaching behind his back before realising two things. One that his long staffed battleaxe was where he had left it on the ground next to his saddle, and second that the Barkskin spider was already dead. Baram moved nearer the tree for a closer inspection.

  “Barkskin spider,” commented Baram

  “Big one too!” he added.

  “What’s been going on here then?”

  I motioned over to Jaramel.

  “Jaramel’s been playing with the local wildlife,” I said with a grin.

  “Huh, you could have picked something a little easier to play with,” said Baram in jest.

  Jaramel said nothing as he sat in cold silence staring at the thing on the tree.

  The rest of that night was a sombre affair. Baram had tried to start several jovial conversations with both Jaramel and myself before conceding defeat and retiring to an early bed.

  I had exchanged few glances with Jaramel throughout the night and only needed to talk to him when it came to his turn for the watch.

  By morning’s sun, my mood with the mage had lightened somewhat. I thought about how it must have looked on his behalf to have a relative stranger aim a crossbow in your direction when you are at your most vulnerable. But I could not ignore the cold shudder that shivered down my spine, as thoughts of the burning warrior of Galma returned to remind me of how close I had come to a similar fate.

  I still did not speak to him in the morning’s light as I had other matters on my mind, for today we would reach the Great Divide.

  After breakfasting on the remainder of the dried fruits, we broke our camp and made for the central fort along the Divide.

  Our ride was swift, short, and without incident. As we neared the area of the Divide, our view was rewarded with our first sight of the central fortification.

  Slowing the horses to a stop, we sat three abreast to take in the scene in front of us.

  The fort stood just over a mile away, its circular central tower, dark and grey, rose upwards from the land to loom high above everything around it, including the surrounding square shaped fortified wall that protected it. Man shaped ants milled about the outside of the perimeter wall, and could even be seen busily moving along the ramparts.

  Lifting my sight beyond the fort revealed the endless sea of flat brown earth belonging to the Nazoran battle plains. The plain stretched far to the north until merging in the distance with a range of shadowy mountains at the edge of my sight.

  I returned my gaze back to the fort.

  A rock of the south against the tide of the north I thought to myself.

  “Gentlemen,” I announced, “The Great Divide.”

  Chapter Seven:

  It took another half an hour to reach the fort, and what looked deceivingly small from a distance, was in fact exceedingly large in reality. We currently rode on a small path which led between a forest of sharpened stakes. The stakes were cut from wood, and all had been placed into the ground at an angle to extended outwards all around the fort.

  “I wouldn’t like to be on the wrong end of those,” commented Baram as we passed between the defences.

  “Indeed!” I replied.

  We passed many soldiers on the way to the gate, most of whom ignored us as they went about their own concerns. Some did give us inquiring glances as we passed, but it was not until we reached the gatehouse itself before we were approached.

  Two guards wearing full body armour consisting of a chain mail coat over padded leathers stepped out before us. Open-faced helmets protected their heads, and each held a spear in one hand and carried a large shield in the other. The insignia upon the shields bore three silver towers against a background of black showing them to belong to the soldiers of the Divide.

  “Halt! State your name and your business,” said the armoured guard to our right, in a firm but polite manner.

  “I am Taragon Stein.” I gave a small bow. “And I have with me here, Jaramel Ovin and Baram Oakengood. We are on business from Ranak-Lore and need to speak with Governor Talak as soon as possible.”

  The guard nodded his head.

  “You have been expected.

  “Expected?” I said aloud, wondering how they knew of our arrival.

  The guard nodded again.

  “I was told to look for your arrival this morning. Now if you care to dismount, I’ll have you escorted to the Governor.” And with that, the guard left us to disappear through a side door. “Good news must travel fast,” said Baram, as he swung down from Anvil.

  We did not have to wait long until the guard returned, accompanied by a younger looking man. By his appearance, he looked to be a page of sorts, and could not have been much more than sixteen years of age.

  “This is Ethandaril, he will show you can where to stable your horses, and then take you on to meet with the Governor.”

  I nodded to the guard as we followed Ethandaril, through the gatehouse and into the courtyard beyond.

  I noticed as we had passed under the gatehouse, how much the perimeter walls here paled in their construction, in respect of those that Ranak-Lore had to offer. Only four paces thick, and in height they were only twice that of a man. Sturdy enough
for sure, but they were no Galvian construction.

  The courtyard beyond bustled with activity. We were being escorted to the western side of the inner perimeter wall, the scent on the breeze revealed the stables to be somewhere in this direction.

  The layout of the fort was simple in its design.

  The main tower stood sentinel at its centre, with low wooden buildings, hugging every inch of the inner wall to form a continuous line of constructions encircling the entire courtyard. The only gaps to be seen between these buildings were for stone steps placed at every forty paces or so to allow easy access up to the wall’s ramparts.

  To our left was a barracks. Beds could be seen stacked one on top of the other through the dirty windows as we passed. Next to the barracks was a small official looking building, which stood by itself. The King’s standard of stag before moon was engraved upon a small shining brass plaque that hung over the door’s entrance. Two small flags bearing the three silver towers of the Divides guard fluttered proudly on its roof.

  I cast my gaze northwards.

  Another gatehouse could be seen along the northern wall.

  A flash of light to my right quickly drew my attention to the eastern wall, where I was just in time to see a blacksmith bring his hammer down once again to strike the hot metals of his work.

  Soldiers were everywhere I looked! Patrolling the battlements, carrying items to and fro, entering the northern gate on horseback. There was even a group of about thirty being trained in the use of a sword, near to the courtyard’s centre. The resounding clash of steel upon steel rang through my ears as we passed them by.

  The whole place looked as if it was ready for just about anything. But I could not help feeling whilst looking at the wooden buildings standing against the low perimeter walls, that it was the kind of security one felt while standing too close to the edge of a cliff.

  In front of us, a group of about ten soldiers led their horses out of a low, squat looking building that appeared up ahead. The building was smaller in height than its neighbours but took up most of the northwestern corner of the fort. A quick glance about revealed it to be the longest building in the encampment.

  The stables were huge, with enough room to comfortably accommodate around a hundred horses. After stabling our mounts, we were then shown towards the guest quarters, which thankfully were sited far from the stables on the opposite side of the courtyard from where we now stood. After another walk back across the busy courtyard, Ethandaril stopped before a large wooden door bearing a silver plaque showing the King’s standard nailed to the door, and bade us enter.

  “Should you require anything sirs, just ask for Ethandaril, I’ll go now and tell the Governor you are here.” Before I could even thank the boy for his attention, he disappeared back out into the courtyard, closing the door behind him as he went.

  “Ah,” said Baram as he eyed the beds lined against the rear wall with a smile. “Another night of comfort. What with that horse and the hard earth, I’m surprised I’ve anything left on my rear to sit upon!”

  “Make the most of it,” I offered in return, “for I doubt we shall enjoy such luxury in days to come.”

  The guest room was sparse but functional. Apparently, they didn’t expect to be entertaining many notable guests at the fort but had done their best to make the ones they did receive as comfortable as possible.

  After sliding the buckler from my arm, I then proceeded once again to secure it safely away from prying eyes under my chosen bed, along with my Glowball staff that I had removed from my saddle packs earlier. Given the fact that there were so many soldiers in the fort, I did not want to take the risk of one of them increasing his pay with the sale of my personal belongings.

  There was nothing much to do now except to await the arrival of the Governor. I decided to ask Jaramel about the man in question.

  “Tell me Jaramel, you have met Talak before haven’t you?”

  “Several times,” affirmed Jaramel from the seat he had taken on his bed.

  “What kind of man is he, and what of the rumours concerning his reputation?”

  Jaramel placed the book in his hands back into the hidden compartment of his robes, this time without opening its pages. Then he did something very out of character.

  Reaching up he took hold of the hood to his brown travelling robe and pulled it back until it rested upon his shoulders.

  His youthful looks now revealed, his wispy brown hair was cut neatly upon his head, small ears protruded through his hair. His pale skin was tight with the age of youth, and a thin, scrawny neck suddenly revealed gave some indication concerning the rest of his physique. Jaramel declined in age before my eyes, and innocence and inexperience of life were reflected on his face for all to see.

  “See Taragon,” boomed Baram from where he stood, “I told you he wasn’t bald.”

  Smiling at Baram, I looked upon his helmeted head.

  “Not like some of us my friend,” I remarked slyly.

  “Bah! Kendra likes me this way.” Baram lifted his helmet to sweep his free hand over his smooth dome.

  “She has little choice, my friend!”

  “Baram!” called Jaramel from across the room. “Just because a man builds himself a house, does not mean he has to live within its walls all of the time.”

  A frown appeared across Baram’s forehead followed by more head scratching.

  “You were enquiring after the Governor Mr Stein.”

  “His reputation of a leader of men is well deserved. He has been at the forefront of every battle he has ever fought in, and his skill with a broadsword is unrivalled. He has been involved in many skirmishes with the north, and his victory at the battle of Hillstone Pass is well documented. His men both respect him and follow him loyally.”

  “Just as I thought,” I smiled; Talak had a reputation for being a bit of a legend of sorts. Generally, I could not care less what soldiers did with their time if they wanted to waste their lives upon a battlefield for someone else’s cause it was entirely up to them. But I would have lied to myself if I did not admit that I was interested in meeting with this Governor Talak.

  “Unfortunately,” continued Jaramel.

  I turned my attention back to the young mage.

  “He has a rather...colourful disposition that keeps him from the court of the King on most occasions.”

  “Colourful?” enquired Baram as confused as I.

  Jaramel looked as if he was having trouble finding the words to speak when the door of the guest quarters was suddenly flung wide open, and in walked a man who at first glance could have been a Baram’s brother.

  Standing just a little taller than Baram but with just as much girth, this man sported wild fiery red hair that continued to a beard of equal unruliness. His face was weather beaten and hard. Sharp eyes that glinted brightly quickly scanned the room before focusing them onto Jaramel. This man wore large leather boots, trousers of brown cotton and a shirt of white silk. The latter was undone about the neck to reveal the top of a heavy set torso thick with red hair. Over all of this was worn a coat of fine sheepskin which almost touched the floor in its length.

  “Jaramel!” bellowed the man in a thunderous voice as he made his way to the surprised mage. Jaramel tried to stand but found he did not need to, as he was half lifted, and half dragged to his feet by the embrace of the walking giant.

  “How are you my boy?” asked the man whilst nearly shaking the arms off the poor mage. “Still as scrawny as ever I see,” he continued whilst prodding the mage as if to assure himself of his last statement.

  “And what in Anderkins Anus are you doing this far north anyway?”

  The man turned inquiringly at Baram and me before turning back to the mage.

  “And who in the black pit are these two you’ve brought along with you?”

  “It’s good to see you again too Governor!” said Jaramel whilst straightening his ruffled robe. “Allow me to introduce Taragon Stein and Baram Oakengood.”
/>   I gave a small bow as required, with Baram following my lead.

  “Never heard of you,” roared Talak.

  “But if you’re this far north and have young master Ovin here with you, then it could only be on matters concerning the King. Well then don't just stand the gawping, I suppose you have a message for me then?”

  I produced the scrolled parchment that I had carried since Ranak-Lore intended for the Governor.

  “I have the very message here,” I announced, whilst offering it up to the Governor.

  Talak nodded.

  “Good, well bring it with you and follow me. I have another matter to attend to at present.” With that, the Governor turned to Jaramel and nodded. Jaramel in response grabbed his wrists with each hand before bringing them up to his bowing forehead in his curious wizards greeting.

  Talak then walked out into the courtyard, leaving us to follow.

  “Colourful!” I agreed with Jaramel as I passed.

  The Governor of the North marched across the courtyard in powerful striding steps heading towards the central tower. His pace was so fast that it was all that I could do just to keep up with him. Jaramel was practically running!

  Talak's coat of sheepskin trailed slightly behind him as he walked. This gave revealing glimpses of a large sword and scabbard fastened about his waist. The fabled broadsword Jaramel had mentioned earlier.

  “Forgive me Governor, but the knowledge of our arrival has been troubling me somewhat. How was this information known to you?”

  The Governor looked across to me upon hearing my question, a broad smile then etched itself across his tempestuous looking face.

  “Oh, that!” he bellowed. “You don’t have to worry yourself about that my lad. Sky told me.”

  “Sky?” I enquired blankly, whilst inadvertently glimpsing upwards to clouds above.

  Talak gave a firm nod.

  “You’re about to meet him.”