Drachenara

by T. G. Neal

  The path out of the Jagged Peak Mountains was so overgrown and underused, it seemed like no human had been on foot there for quite some time. Understandably, as leaving their horses behind had been a less than desirable notion even for Vaelen and Aurelia but experiencing on foot the power of the forest seemed to be ideal.

  Another hour or so, with the sun disappearing behind the trees to the west, Vaelen caught a glimpse of a clearing ahead. That clearing was the western shores of the Verdant Lake, the forest depository of the River Elisine, the only known Elven-named entity still in these woods. As they approached closer, they realized that the Emerald’s Rest lay just beyond the closest shore and was partially built out over the water.

  The tavern was a sight for sore eyes. For feet who had been on the move for thirteen or better hours, and days on the road, a place with an actual bed seemed like a blessing that was almost too good to be true. “Thank the Maker,” Vaelen said, “warm food, ale, and a bed.” He looked back at Aurelia. “And maybe some information.”

  Aurelia smiled. “I could go for a glass of milk and something sweet; it seems like it’s been a great deal of time since I’ve been able to enjoy such things.”

  “It isn’t so much the time, as it is the journey.” Vaelen said. “It’s been a rough road behind us, but I believe that a brighter future is ahead of us.”

  “I hope so,” Aurelia said.

  Vaelen continued forward and stepped into the tavern. Before stepping in, Vaelen saw several horses on the southern side of the building, complete with merchant’s carts and several other unmarked wagons. Clearly this was a gathering crossroads for travelers headed about.

  When Vaelen and Aurelia passed inside, everyone casually looked up for a moment, before returning to nursing their beverages. Vaelen walked straight up to the barkeep. “I’d like a room, please. Myself and the lady.” He looked back and gestured to Aurelia. “The name’s Rykk and Madison.”

  The keep nodded his head and wrote their names down in a book. Much cheaper than Rootsborne, Vaelen paid the man two sovereigns, and held onto the room key he’d been given. Vaelen leaned on the counter, “We’re going to have some food, too, if that’s alright. But I have a question for you.”

  “Aye, son, what is it?” The keep asked Vaelen.

  “I’m looking for a man; a mercenary specifically by the name Daja Uruk.” Vaelen asked.

  “Neva’ ‘eard of ‘im. What kin I get ye?” The keep retorted.

  Slightly disenchanted, Vaelen and Aurelia both ordered and moved to a comfortable corner spot in the tavern next to a dim-lit fireplace cooking a stew of some sort. Vaelen had a plate of several root vegetables and rabbit in front of him, and while Aurelia had almost the same thing, she also had a sweet roll on the side of her plate and a glass of cooled milk instead of the ale that Vaelen drank.

  Vaelen picked at the meal and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t imagine that they’ve never heard of them. Surely. My father said Daja Uruk was a well-known sellsword in these parts. So well-known that you’d be hard pressed to not hear of him when you strolled through.”

  Aurelia devoured her food while Vaelen merely took small bites. Before Vaelen could finish, Aurelia was done and leaned forward on her elbows. “I don’t know, Vaelen. The worst could have happened. They could have all been killed; murder does seem to be the language of our dear land.”

  Vaelen made a distinct nod. “None truer statement could be made.”

  As Vaelen continued to eat, he watched the barkeep make a concise effort to talk to a young man – probably Vaelen’s age or a little younger – and then the young man glanced his way. Vaelen immediately looked down to his food, attempting to avert his eyes, hopefully avoiding any attention he may have garnered. “Aurelia,” he whispered. “I believe our new friend in the bar has heard of us.”

  Aurelia leaned closer to Vaelen and whispered in return, “What do you mean?”

  “Shh.” Vaelen said, looking up to the man approaching him.

  The man who walked toward their table was clad in what appeared to be Monk attire, though it was not kept as pristine as most monks he had seen, and he was missing the specific markers of the Exemplar Order of Monks. The man was bald and bore a beard and a couple of facial scars and had only a small knife on his belt, yet his hands were armored, which meant this man fought only with his hands. Likely a true monk, yet what posed in Vaelen's mind was a question of his purpose.

  Vaelen didn’t move quickly, he looked up at the man as he approached and casually lowered the legs of his chair to the ground. “Can I help you?” Vaelen asked the man.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. Heard you were looking for Daja Uruk. Who’s asking?” the Monk said dryly.

  “It looks like we’re a couple of inquisitive people, you and me.” Vaelen sipped his ale. “It’s a dangerous world. Have I made an enemy by asking too many questions?”

  “Not yet.” The Monk held up his hands. “Now I’ve answered one of your questions, you answer one of mine. Who’s asking?”

  Aurelia wasn’t particularly pleased with the direction this seemed to be going, but she tentatively sat back and listened. Vaelen pursed his lips and looked at the Monk. “A couple of prospects,” was Vaelen's answer.

  “We’re not recruiting.” The Monk said, rising from his chair.

  “You’re not Daja,” Vaelen said, perturbed.

  “I make the calls around here.”

  Vaelen stood up from his chair and the Monk stiffened. “Look, Monk. I’m not here to pick a fight, or unravel your people, or make things more difficult. But let me be honest with you, because honesty can’t hurt my situation any more than it is already. My father knew Daja and told me a lot about fighting with him. I honestly don’t have many friends left and I’m running out of options.”

  The Monk stood and stared at Vaelen for a moment. He was totally silent at that point; both of them were. The light of the fireplace flickered against the Monk’s features, leaving small shadows cast into the scars. “By what name do you go?” He finally asked Vaelen.

  “I am Vaelen. My father was known only by the name Wraith.”

  A sudden glimpse of realization crossed the Monk's features, but his lips defied none of his stoic demeanor. “Are you staying in this tavern, Vaelen Wraithson?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then I shall see you on the morrow.”

  With nothing more said between them, the Monk turned and walked away from Vaelen and out the back door. Vaelen, still standing, looked down at Aurelia who was sitting there. She looked up at Vaelen and made a quizzical expression and said, “That went well.”

  “Funny,” Vaelen said, picking up and taking the last swig of his ale. “I don’t feel the same way.” He put the cup back down and slid his empty plate away. “Shall we go to our room?”

  Aurelia nodded and followed Vaelen upstairs.

  Once upstairs and the door was closed, Vaelen and Aurelia removed their gear and dropped their bags in a safe place, though their weapons were not far from their reach. This comfort was false, Vaelen mused. He would not be able to sleep without his armor on for fear of being attacked in the night. He would sleep lighter knowing that he was known – not by a false name, but by his own. As he sat on the edge of his bed, he looked to Aurelia. “I hope that this was the right course of action.”

  Aurelia looked at the floor for a moment and then looked up at Vaelen. “What else did we have before us? What paths lie available to us?”

  Vaelen shook his head unknowingly, answering by gesture alone.

  “I trust you, Vaelen. I’ve always trusted you.” She looked away from him into a lantern that burned nearby. “Fate seemed to have chosen us for a truly terrible turning point in our lives, and I often question if I did something wrong to deserve it, but the road has become my home, and you have kept me living thus far. I do not doubt you now.”

  “I doubt for us both,” He said with a chuckle. When he finished, he fell back on his bed an
d look at the ceiling. He kicked off his boots and picked his legs up, lying flat on the bed. “Perhaps we shall know more of what fate has for us when the day comes tomorrow.”

  Aurelia lay on her side looking at the wall beyond. She didn’t answer Vaelen, she just thought. Inside she was feeling a complication over Vaelen. It was no longer her station that kept her from loving him. Something inside of her had always felt something for Vaelen, but now just didn’t feel like the right time. It felt irresponsible to burden him more with her emotions, and on top of that she feared if he felt the same about her. She felt like a child and even in light of all that had happened, it scared her. Instead of dwelling on it, she allowed herself to go to sleep.

  Vaelen did the same.

  The next morning came swiftly, and before Vaelen was even ready to leave his room there was a knock on the door. He opened the iron panel that allowed him to look and see who was beyond, and there stood the Monk. The man looked up, directly into Vaelen’s eyes and nodded his head, “May I come in?”

  “A moment, please.” Vaelen said, closing the iron panel.

  Aurelia finished tying her boots and put her back against the wall, she nodded, silently letting Vaelen know she was ready. Vaelen then opened the door and allowed the man to step inside.

  “I apologize if I am later than you expected.” The Monk said.

  “Quite the contrary,” Aurelia said, garnering a look of surprise from Vaelen.

  The Monk looked at Aurelia, then back to Vaelen. “Forgive me for yesterday. As a man paid to protect and take life, it is sometimes a risk to divulge too much information, of that I am sure you know.” The Monk sighed. “I am Mikael Uruk, and I am the leader of the Silver Sort. My father is not well and has not been for quite some time, now. When he took ill, I was sent for from the Mreindale Monastery, and haven’t looked back since. I do not see eye to eye with the church anymore as it is.” He looked to the both of them, “But I digress. My father’s sickness now is due to a poison he was stabbed with years ago, so my secrecy is a result of that. You understand.”

  “We must protect those we care about.” Vaelen said.

  The Monk looked over Vaelen’s shoulder to Aurelia. “Indeed.” He looked back to Vaelen, “My father is well enough to carry on a conversation, but not fight. But he remembers your father. He pulled one of his books down for me and recalled fighting by your father and how he earned the moniker ‘Wraith’. Then he told me that if you possessed even a sliver of your father’s potential, I would be a fool to deny you.”

  Vaelen smiled at the thought. “This is Aurelia,” he gestured back to her, and she smiled and nodded in return. “My father and Aurelia’s father and mother were all murdered. We’ve been seeking anything now for days on end.”

  Mikael nodded, “I am truly sorry to hear of your parents. I can only imagine the pain.” He bowed his head. “You are welcome to come back with us to our home. There we will test your abilities. Of potent lineage or not, we must be sure you would be of use to us.” Mikael smiled a genuine smile. “Come. I’ve two men with me, but it’s only a short walk to our home.”

  Mikael stepped out first and Vaelen and Aurelia picked up their things and followed him outside. Once they were out there though, Aurelia came face to face with a familiar hooded character. As soon as she saw him, she grabbed him at the clasp of his cloak, under his throat and pushed him backward against the wall.

  Vaelen and Mikael had kept walking until they heard the thud of the cloaked figure being slammed against the wall. Beside the cloaked figure a plate-wearing man drew a long sword from his side and pointed it at Aurelia. Vaelen then drew his claymore and readied to strike the one who drew on Aurelia.

  Mikael crossed his arms over his chest. “I was going to introduce you all. What is the meaning of this? Put your blades down!”

  Everyone lowered their blades together, and the focus turned to Aurelia to explain herself.

  Aurelia looked at Mikael. “This one stole my dagger some time ago in Drachenara.”

  The cloaked figure pulled back his hood to reveal two very predominantly pointed ears. “I returned the dagger.” He said plainly.

  “You stole it to begin with!” She said, anger in her raised voice.

  “I left it. I’ve not had someone who could stop me in a decade. You’re gifted with the bow. You earned my respect.” The man dipped his head. “My name is Keneya.”

  “I don’t want your respect.” She said with a bite to her words.

  Vaelen reached out and touched her shoulder.

  She looked back to him and frowned, then stepped back.

  Mikael looked to the plate-wearing man with long black hair who gave his name with a gentle nod. “I am Rolyat.”

  Mikael chuckled, “Well, I’m glad we got off on the right foot.”

  Aurelia couldn’t quite let go of the fact that the one who had attempted to steal her dagger in the first place was now here and would be working at her side. How did she know that even now he wouldn’t rob her blind at the first chance he got? She didn’t. But what else could she do? This was the hand they had been dealt, and at least was something.

  Vaelen bowed his head to all of them. “I am Vaelen Wraithson, and it is a pleasure.”

  Once introductions were out of the way, the group of five made their walk through the Emerald Wood, off the beaten path along the shores of the Verdant Lake. In their time walking, Mikael gave Vaelen details of the Silver Sort. “I was a Monk of the Exemplars and I chose to leave when my father was poisoned. I shucked my connection to the Maker in favor of the life my father had originally laid out for me. Rolyat was a friend of mine while in the Exemplars, and though our lives have run parallel, we do not share many of the same sentiments. But such is the difference between and Exemplar Monk and an Exemplar Paladin. He was of the near highest degree before leaving the Order and is a proficient shieldsman. Keneya, who I’m assuming you met while he was away this last time, is probably the best dagger-wielding thief I’ve ever met in my life.” He glanced at Keneya, who walked behind them. “He was born a Wood Elf, moved to the city with his family but he left and came to us for work. He’s been a Silver Sort for four years now.

  ‘We have somewhere close to one hundred men. All well trained. All honest men and women. They do not all stay at the keep up here; there isn’t enough room. They’re scattered across the Emerald Wood and Berlessis, all within a jackdaw’s reach. We are typically paid to handle barbarian uprisings, or to put down highwaymen, though recently we’ve been being bought to protect against pirates along the coast, as it’s become a growing problem, and merchants are willing to part with a lot of coin to protect their wares.” Mikael cracked his knuckles one at a time as he talked. “Because of the relative peace of the realm, we’re highly paid bodyguards. Sometimes we’re even bought off one at a time.”

  They arrived at their location. Hidden amongst the trees, off a slightly beaten-down path, was a wooden building that camouflaged nicely into the Emerald Wood. Vaelen followed them inside a small courtyard where he could hear others training. Aurelia stayed right on his heels, a hand hovering near to her quiver in case things went south.

  The hewn-wood structure was as sound as can be. It had been built many years before because the smell of the wood was not a pungent fresh odor, but instead retained the smells of the inside, of smoke and food, of ale and pipe, and of the leather of armor.

  Mikael turned to Vaelen, “I would ask you to leave your things here, and you will have a little spar. I assume by your claymore, that you prefer the two handed greatsword approach”

  Vaelen nodded, “I have grown to appreciate it, yes.”

  Then Mikael turned to Aurelia. “And you are good with a bow?”

  Keneya, the theif, answered, “I can vouch for that.”

  Mikael nodded. “Then we shall see Vaelen fight.” He looked around, then shouted the name of a nearby mercenary who wielded a claymore only slightly smaller than Vaelen’s greatsword. “Do not kill. Do
not draw deep blood. That is all I ask.”

  Vaelen left his things with Aurelia and walked into the center of the courtyard back near where they entered. He removed his claymore from the frog and awaited his opponent.

  Aurelia watched a young man, maybe twenty or twenty-one square up to Vaelen, who took a defensive position. The young fighter began attacking. For several moments steel collided with steel, clanging and filling the air with the sound. Finally, Vaelen locked at the hilt, pushed up as hard as he could, pushing his opponent off balance and then kneeing him in the stomach. Then, using his leverage, landed, bringing his claymore over the top of his head and stopping it right before hitting the man on the nose.

  Vaelen looked up at the group waiting for a decision. His breast rose and fell with heavy breath.

  Mikael looked to the others and nodded. “I’d say it’s decided. We believe that you and Aurelia will be welcome additions to our operation. Perhaps you will bring with you fortune.”

  Aurelia looked at him and smirked, “If we had any fortune, we would be honored to share it.”

  Vaelen nodded, “Indeed.”

  The rest of that day was spent getting acclimated to their new setting. Aurelia and Vaelen were both given rooms on the second floor of the building whose construction visually was reminiscent of most taverns Vaelen had been in. The rooms were not much to write home about. The windows were covered in a light wooden lattice, but it allowed the sunlight to shine through. Each room had a bed, chest, and standing dresser, as well as a place to sit.

  The rest of the place was not as private. The main room acted as a kitchen and dining room for the near twenty-five mercenaries that lived there. Jackdaws would fly in with work, and the work would be passed out fairly. Whether it was big convoys being protected from one side of the country to the next, or a woman hiring a mercenary to protect her from her abusive husband, so she could get out and away.