Casius shuddered, had he decided to sleep on the opposite side of the fire he too would be numbered among the dead.
“Double the watch.” Urbas ordered tossing the crossbow to one of the drivers. “Break out your heavy weapons and keep them close at hand. Suddenly I have a very bad feeling about the remainder of our journey.”
Casius felt out of place, he stood aside watching as the men followed Urbas’s instructions. In short order the group no longer resembled a merchants caravan. It had been transformed into an armed encampment.
Casius felt more at ease by the sight of Battle Axes and a large number of heavy crossbows. One of the men handed him an iron tipped spear longer than he was tall. Casius looked at the weapon and attempted to hand it back.
“I do not know how to use this,” he said apologetically.
The man laughed, “Just stick your foe with the pointy end,” he said walking away.
Five graves were dug within the clearing; the men gently lowering the blanket wrapped bodies of their companions into the earth.
The graves were filled in silence; and in the morning the sun rose falling upon five mounds of fresh turned earth.
Urbas built a small fire at the foot of each mound into each he threw a handful of the bear’s course fur. The acrid smoke coiled up into the still air. “Let the smoke of your fallen foe guide you to the houses of your ancestors.” He intoned at each grave.
Although curious Casius knew this was not the time for questions. He was new to this group of trail-hardened men. Even though they had accepted him into their number he did not share their depth of grief. To these men the fallen were brothers that they had known for many years, through both hardship and joy.
He glanced about him at the stern faces; only the moistness of their eyes betrayed their feelings. Of thirty-one men who had set out together only twenty-six remained. Now that number felt pitifully small when facing a very large and dangerous world.
One by one the men walked away and began to clear the camp. The animals were loaded and with a solemn wave of his hand Urbas led them from the clearing into the narrow pass.
Casius looked once more at the graves from the back of his horse. A parting glance to the men he had only begun to know.
He felt sorrow; too much death had swirled about his life. Seeing the honored graves these men rested in opened old wounds. He felt anew the loss of his father. If he ever did return to his home he knew he would find no graves. Only crow pecked bones and fire scarred ruins would mark where his people had once lived. His eyes clouded with both rage and grief he swallowed his emotions and followed the last rider into the narrow gorge.
The rider looked over his shoulder at him. “This is a hard life Casius,” he said consolingly. “Each man here knows what is at stake and yet we willingly accept the risk. We are not meant to be farmers or shop keepers; this is the life for such as we. Freedom and adventure are their own rewards.” The man paused considering his words, “We have all seen friends die, and last night was a hard lesson for you to learn. Heed it well, this world cares little if you live or die. All we can do is be prepared and fight hard when the time comes.”
Casius rode in silence for several moments before replying. “I am no stranger to death,” He said somewhat more harshly than he intended. “She has touched my life before.”
The man nodded, “Keep your eyes open, this pass is notorious for ambushes. If we are attacked stay close and do exactly what I say.”
Casius nodded his eyes now darting along the gorges walls expecting a hail of arrows from above at any moment.
Hours passed and the day grew warm, the air within the gorge still and heavy. The trail was narrow and treacherous affording no place for them to safely rest. As night fell torches were passed out and in their fitful light they continued on foot leading the weary animals. The faint bubbling of the streams passage in the darkness below became a constant companion.
Dawn brightened the sky above, the faint light failed to reach the depths of the grotto. The men and animals trudged onward enfolded in the cold dark of the mountains shadow.
Long weary hours passed, the fears of ambush still foremost on the men’s’ minds. Although they were weary to the point of near collapse their eyes were sharp and alert searching the darkest shadows for enemies.
The early afternoon sun crept down the ragged stonewalls. The path ahead brightened and the shadows retreated. They came upon a roaring cataract that poured out of a caverns darkened maw. It was the source of the stream they had been following. Flooding out from the mountains roots the water sparkling in the sunlight. The grotto narrowed beyond the fall rising only slightly before sloping steeply downward.
The narrow path they followed led down into what once had been the streams path long ago. Stones polished by the flow of water lined the channel walls, loose pebbles sliding beneath their feet as they descended.
They traveled only a short distance when the walls of the looming cliffs ended. The caravan stood at the grottos opening at the top of a long slope that led down into a land of gently rolling hills dotted with thick groves of birch and oak. A deep channel led down the slope ending in a broad shallow bowl like depression, that at one time had been a lake. The grass grew thick upon the hills scattered with tangled vines of wild berries heavily laden with fruit.
Urbas led them down into the bowl; here they made an early camp the men grateful for the respite. The watch was set and those not on guard duty slept soundly on the soft ground.
Casius stood the first watch and paced the perimeter, in the gathering gloom of nightfall he was reassured by the presence of so many men sharing his duty. As the midnight hour passed Urbas himself relieved him. He fell asleep within moments and did not awaken until the first light of dawn brightened the sky.
He limped on sore feet to a small fire the men had started. He stood close, allowing its heat to drive off the dawn chill. He nodded to Urbas as the man joined them. The caravan master set a metal urn at the fires edge.
“For tea,” he explained when he noticed Casius’s gaze lingering on the ornate scrollwork etched into the urns metal. “It does wonders for wiping away the cobwebs of a long sleep.”
Casius smiled, “I was wondering why I was not awakened for the dawn watch.”
“Don’t take offense,” Urbas nodded to the men about the fire. “The hours before sunrise are the most dangerous, these men only trust a seasoned veteran to ward them during that time.”
Casius understood. His father would have done the same when venturing out to sea on a new vessel. “I take only those men who have earned their salt.” He would often say.
He shrugged, “I did sleep better knowing they were about.”
“I as well,” Urbas replied offering him a steaming cup of tea. “I hire only those men whom I feel to be trustworthy. I have too many other concerns to be wasting time watching my back. Believe me there are plenty of thieves and rouges trying to sign on with what they feel to be an easy mark.” Urbas sipped his tea and smiled in pleasure. “These men have been with me for many years, I pay well and share the profits this keeps them happy and loyal. A rare enough thing in this line of work.”
Casius finished his tea and listened to the complaining grunts of the men as they loaded the mules in preparation of the day’s journey. “I for one am looking forward to a warm bed and a bath.” he said jokingly.
“Here now,” Urbas laughed. “Just when I thought we had made a proper driver of you, you have to go and say something like that.”
Casius wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Don’t breathe too deeply Urbas. The pack mules smell better than us.”
“Ah...” Urbas exclaimed making a show of inhaling deeply. “That’s the smell of an honest day’s labor. Besides my wife claims it keeps me faithful.”
Casius laughed, “She’s a wise woman.”
“Aye, that she is.” Urbas stood and raised his voice for all to hear. “Lets get these mangy curs on the road then. Five more days o
f easy travel lay before us.”
It did not take long to get the train organized, within the hour the line of mules and men were moving out of the foothills and into the low lying lands of the Varsus valley.
Unlike the plains that formed the heartland of Lakarra, the valley through which they trod was rich and fertile. The dark loamy soil supported thick woods and fields of deep emerald grass.
They followed a trail that became a heavily traveled road. The rolling landscape became a patchwork of cultivated fields bordered with low walls of stone. Individual farmsteads were few; most of the people of this land chose to live in walled compounds for their protection.
They passed these by under the watchful eyes of men upon their walls. Those working the fields would stop long enough to see if the men posed a threat.
“They’re a wary lot,” Casius commented as they passed yet another walled village.
“Aye,” Urbas nodded. “It was not always so but the roads are no longer as safe as they once were. These people have grown cautious.”
They spent the night camped within a line of trees that bordered the fast flowing waters of the Koran River. The next morning they followed the road as it ran along side the river for a few miles.
Through the trees a modest house came into view. It stood upon the bank of the river its stonewalls covered with patches of thick moss.
Next to the building a narrow bridge spanned the water. Constructed from stout planks supported by thick pylons, the bridge was well kept and appeared sturdy.
The fattest man Casius had ever laid eyes on stood outside the door watching them approach with interest. He was sweating profusely even though the day was cool with a soft breeze blowing in from the west.
“C’arl Finnerson,” Urbas muttered to Casius. “He collects tolls for the use of the bridge. A toad of a man who would slit his own throat if he could profit from the act.”
“My good friend Urbas!” Finnerson exclaimed as they neared. Though his voice and smile were pleasant but his eyes held nothing but disdain and loathing.
It took Casius only a moment but he knew there was nothing in this grotesque man that could be considered virtuous.
Urbas tossed a silver penny to Finnerson. “C’arl,” he said in greeting with a slight dip of his head.
The man was huge but not slow; he snatched the coin out of the air and tucked it into a stained pouch at his hip. He leered at Casius as he rode by.
Casius felt the man’s eyes burning into his back. He knew the man was foul in more than his appearance. “Why do you pay him?”
“He is the eyes of the Senatum and carries their protection. Men of his ilk are never alone; six of his kin lay hidden within the trees. A silver penny is not worth the loss of a single man to a cowards arrow.” Urbas looked back over his shoulder as they clomped across the wooden planks. “Take care when you come back this way Casius, I do not like the way he looks at you.”
Casius nodded, “Nor I.”
“There are rumors that his brother serves the raider king as a captain of one of his black ships.” Urbas said with a shrug. “From the look on your face I can see that you have had some experience with those sea devils.”
“They murdered my father,” He answered with a catch of emotion in his voice. No matter how many years have passed Casius’s grief remained strong.
“Damn,” Urbas muttered. He could sense the young mans pain. “I’m sorry,” was all that he could say in consolation.
Casius nodded, “It was years ago Urbas.”
“Aye but that kind of pain lingers longest.”
Casius said nothing; his thoughts had wandered back to his days upon the isle of kale. His eyes remained fixed on the scenery ahead but he noticed little of the lands beauty.
The road beyond the bridge cut through the wood, the leafy boughs overhead formed a shaded tunnel lined with rich ferns of deepest green. It was a large wood and took them the better part of the day to pass through its borders.
Over the next two days the road wound through rich fields and over low wooded hills. Several smaller paths joined with theirs and at every junction a small village stood. These were without walls or defenses of any kind.
Other travelers appeared on the road, very few ventured alone often they traveled in small groups their hands never straying far from the weapons they carried. During the fourth day after crossing C’arl’s bridge they crested a small rise in the land. Spread out before them lay a low coastal plain. The silver ribbon of the Darkwater River sliced the verdant fields below. In the distance they could see the city of Elkrun along the rivers shore. The afternoon sun shining from its walls of polished stone.
The city stood a long ways off yet but Urbas pushed the men and as the sunset the caravan came to stand beneath the walls surrounding Elkrun.
Casius could see the maze of dark alleyways and litter-strewn streets just beyond the open gate. The buildings were low and squatting affairs constructed from dark stone they added to the oppressive atmosphere that hung over the place.
Elkrun was not built to be attractive; rather it was designed to withstand sieges. From the high walls to the narrow winding streets, an enemy army would be cut to ribbons trying to force its way into the city’s heart.
After a moments consideration Casius decided to spend one more night with the caravan. He did not like the looks of the city or the appraising stares he had gotten from several shady characters that lingered just beyond the guards’ checkpoint.
Urbas had guided his animals into a fenced enclosure and was delighted to have Casius’s help as they prepared the goods he would offer up in the market come dawn. It was several hours later when he collapsed exhausted into his bedroll.
The sounds of the men stirring awakened him; he sat up rubbing his eyes when a bell began to ring from beyond the walls.
“The gates are opening,” Urbas commented once he saw the puzzled look on Casius’s face. “Here,” he said tossing a small pouch to him.
Casius caught the pouch, “What’s this?”
“Two talents of gold as promised, payment for your work on my ledger.”
“We agreed on one,” Casius replied tucking the pouch into his belt.
“Think of the other as a bonus,” Urbas said with a smile. “You’ve done a fine job.”
“Where are you off to next?” Casius asked while saddling his horse.
Urbas shrugged, “Perhaps Lowfalls, it has been a long while since I have been there. What of you Casius?”
“I’ll deliver my charge and find an Inn where I will sleep for two days straight.”
Urbas laughed, “Maybe you should find a north bound Caravan before you fall prey to the wiles of a soft bed and clean sheets.”
Casius grinned at the mans advice, “That I’ll do.” He said his face growing serious. “Besides there is an air about this place that I do not care for.”
“Aye there is that,” Urbas said in agreement. “Stay to the main roads and keep out of the alleys and you’ll be safe enough.”
Casius gripped the merchant’s hand firmly. “Good luck in your travels Urbas,” he said in fluent Caleph. “May fortunes daughter smile upon whatever trail you choose to follow.”
Urbas lowered his head slightly accepting the blessing from his homeland. “And with you as well young Casius.” He stepped back as Casius swung up into his saddle.
“Look me up when next you come to Graystone Urbas,” Casius said as he rode to the gate. “I’ll gladly repair your books for you.”
“I’ll do that!” Urbas shouted waving farewell to the young man.
Chapter Eight
Casius passed through the checkpoint, one man among a throng of hundreds awaiting entry. The guards only gave him a brief glance before waving him through. As he passed down the crowded streets he was stunned by the sheer size of the metropolis. The city of Graystone, which he had thought large, was not even half as big as this sprawling city.
The reek of cloistered humanity was
powerful within the narrow streets. Open ditches lined the roads filled with the stagnant pools of both animal and human wastes. Casius stayed to the center of the street, he had seen several chamber pots simply dumped out of an open window without a care should any passerby be underneath.
The Merchants office was located near the waterfront close to the large market square. He had very little trouble finding it and was shown into the private office by a servant.
The Merchant was a rather fat and pompous man dressed in robes of lavender silk. He looked on Casius with disgust; he made a great show of holding a perfumed cloth over his nose as he read over the deeds details.
He may not have approved of Casius’s appearance but he was pleased with the document he had traveled so far to deliver. With a wave of dismissal Casius was shown out of his office and back onto the busy street.
The Hawkers calls from the market drew him; he left his horse at a nearby livery and walked into the large square. People by the hundreds crowded the narrow aisles running between the stalls. They wore clothing from all across Lakarra. Elkrun was a thriving port located within the shadow of the Copper Hills. On the shores of the Dark Water river, a deep waterway that opened into the sea.
Through the maze of stalls he wandered, careful not to make eye contact with the merchants. He was not interested in buying and did not wish to draw the Hawkers attention. The variety of goods amazed him, each stall offering wares more exotic than the previous.
He wandered the market for hours; he grew tired and began retracing his steps back to where he had left his horse.
As he neared the markets entry he noticed several men moving towards him at a brisk pace. They were hard looking men with skin darkened from years spent at sea.
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