“Well, fellows,” Gideon began, “It looks like the mayor has seen the sense in Thatcher’s plan…at least one of his faces has. He has agreed to release Captain Tropham, I, and a contingent of twenty of his Elite Duelist Corpsmen to go with us. I told the mayor about the Durgak, who we were certain would also join, and he wishes us well.”
“So,” Arreya asked, “then it really is Thatcher’s plan?”
“Yes,” answered Gideon, “it is.”
“Hmm,” answered the huntress, but said no more.
At that moment, came the biggest surprise of all. Approaching from the direction of the grandstand, where he had just himself finished speaking with Mayor Farnsworth, was Xyer Garan. The giant stepped up, deliberately turning his back to Gideon and addressing Goldain.
“Well, my frozen princeling, this is indeed a fool’s errand, but if good men and able adventurers insist on undertaking it, then you should have someone along who knows which end of a sword to hold. Mayor Farnsworth has decided I too should accompany this caravan to ensure, by the strength of my arm, that there is at least a remote chance of success.”
None of the group looked thrilled at the idea of Garan coming along, especially given the clear tension between he and Gideon. However, no one could doubt the Cyrian knight was an experienced warrior. It would be far better to have him along than not, if their plan did succeed in drawing out a bandit ambush.
“Excellent,” said Goldain, extending a hand of welcome to Garan. “Welcome aboard. We will leave at dawn tomorrow from the west gate of Aton-Ri.”
Garan, ignoring Goldain’s outstretched hand of friendship, replied, “Tomorrow at dawn then.” With that, he turned and walked southward into the city.
It was clear Goldain was struggling with the desire to challenge Garan to battle right then and there. Duncan’s levity once again saved the moment.
“You see, that is what I really like about those Cyrians. They are the most friendly and courteous people in all the northwest. Why, with a few more jovial fellows like that Xyer, we might be able to pose as a group of traveling jesters rather than merchants.”
All laughed, including Goldain, and agreed it was not necessary for someone to be personable in order to be useful in battle. Garan was not coming along as morale officer. They would welcome his sword while ignoring his penchant for discourtesy and provocation.
“In the Book of Wisdom it has been written,” Gideon added, lending words of wisdom concerning facing men like Garan, “‘If your enemy is hungry, feed him and if he is thirsty give him drink, for you will heap burning coals upon his head and the One Lord will reward you.’ I believe our kindness and refusal to rise to his taunts will serve Xyer Garan as sore a blow as any weapon we possess, but it is my truest hope that our returning him kindness and patience for his insults will turn his heart to seek the peace of the One Lord.”
“And if the burning coals don’t work,” quipped Goldain, “we can try a fireplace iron to the head.”
Melizar could no longer contain himself.
“This killing with kindness sounds all well and good, but I would just as soon freeze the brains of an enemy as share a meal with him. That is the way in which I was raised, and it has served me well. Nonetheless, the tension that seems particularly focused on Gideon needs better explanation.
“Gideon,” Melizar continued as they walked toward the merchant quarter to secure the wagons and disguises they would need for their ruse. “You mentioned yesterday tension between Parynland and Cyria. Forgive my unfamiliarity with the politics of this region, I hail from far away. Perhaps you could enlighten me regarding the Cyrian and Parynland animosity.”
“Yes, Melizar,” Gideon replied, “I can. In fact, I doubt any of our companions save perhaps brother Duncan know of the exact situation between our nations, so it would be good for all to hear the background in order to better understand the bitterness Xyer has for our king and our people.
“Nearly three hundred years ago, there was a mighty Adami prince named Dorga, whose people had journeyed northward from Rajik into the Ketarynne Forest. There they coexisted in harmony with the V’rassi who lived there. The V’rassi found Dorga and his people kind and noble, and Dorga’s people found their Ketarynne-dwelling neighbors a beautiful and talented race.
“There was great love between Dorga’s people and the elves. Many marriages occurred between the V’rassi and certain families of the Adami settlers. Because of the mixing of V’rassi blood, many descendants of Dorga’s people enjoy lifespans well beyond normal Adami. It seemed the two peoples would forever be bound together.”
“But what happened?” Thatcher anxiously interjected. “What does this have to do with Cyria and Parynland?”
“Patience,” Gideon answered, “the greatest tales take time in the telling. There were hopes for a great future together, but some descendants of Dorga and his people found the polluting of Adami blood with the blood of the V’rassi unacceptable. They were known as dissenters.
“One great warrior, Drapha, who was born many generations later of pureblood dissenter parents, was destined to become a great leader of his people. Drapha did not share his parents’ aversion to the V’rassi. In fact, he fell in love with a V’rassi maiden and took her to be his wife. She bore him a son named Paryn.”
“King Paryn? Of Parynland?” Thatcher interrupted again.
“Yes, King Paryn. Now if I may?”
“Sorry,” Thatcher said with a sheepish grin and let Gideon continue his tale.
“This mixed-blood child enraged Drapha’s parents and threatened, in their minds, his chances to take leadership over the divided Ketarynne-dwelling Adami. In an effort to reinforce his ability to lead both the integrators and the dissenters, they forced him to take a pureblood Adami as a second wife. She bore him a son the following year, and that son’s name was Cyrus. And before you ask, Thatcher, yes, King Cyrus of Cyria.”
The lad blushed but kept quiet, listening intently.
“As tensions grew between the integrators and the dissenters,” Gideon continued, “Drapha knew the Adami must leave Ketarynne for the security of the V’rassi and to kindle any hope of unity between the factions dividing his people.
“Nearly seventy years ago, Drapha led his people, both dissenters and integrators, southward from Ketarynne to the northwest coastal plains of Ya-Erets. It was a wild and untamed land and in it dwelt many tribes serving the Ayabim. It took just over twenty years to drive out the servants of the evil ones and forge the land into a ready kingdom. Drapha’s sons, Paryn, the V’Adami firstborn and Cyrus, the full Adami second born, were reared in battle and forged in bloodshed. Forty-five years ago, the new kingdom was finally established. Drapha called this new kingdom Parus, a combination of the names of his sons, desiring that they would rule it together. Both boys were in their twenties by then, fine warriors and leaders in their own right.
“King Drapha died within a year of the formation of the kingdom. Cyrus grew jealous of his brother’s firstborn status and resentful of Paryn’s mixed blood. Due to his longer lifespan granted by his V’rassi mixed blood, Paryn would eventually rule alone the kingdom they were supposed to share. Cyrus rose up against his brother and a brutal civil war erupted between the respective followers of Cyrus and Paryn. With the aid of his mother’s people, Paryn, after a decade of civil war, claimed final victory in the struggle.
“By all rights, Paryn could have slain his brother, but he knew the ways of the One Lord from his mother, so he instead showed mercy upon Cyrus. Paryn allowed his defeated brother to keep one-third of the land of their former kingdom—the lands south of the Westbrook River. Cyrus, moved by his brother’s mercy, swore an oath to earnestly seek the knowledge and favor of the One Lord. He further vowed to never again raise a hand in battle against his brother. To this day, King Cyrus has honored that promise, at least in regards to conflict. For three decades, there has been a peace between our nations, though not all have fully laid aside their bitterness.
/>
“Thus where there had been the single kingdom of Parus, now there are two kingdoms—Parynland and Cyria. Descendants of the dissenters, all full-blooded Adami, followed Cyrus. The integrators, their descendants, as well as full-Adami who sympathized with their cause, followed King Paryn. This is why most families of Parynland, including my own, have at least a trace of V’rassi blood in their lines. Cyrians are distrustful of outsiders, especially other races. Many in Cyria, like Xyer Garan, carry a hatred for King Paryn and our people that defies time or reason.”
There was sadness in Gideon’s eyes as he concluded his tale. No doubt the others of the company could see in his eyes the hurt of brothers divided. Gideon hoped that this knowledge also prepared them with more sympathy and understanding of the bitterness evidenced by Xyer Garan. Thatcher looked a little nervous as he inquired of his captain.
“So, Gideon, is the V’rassi blood in your family the reason for your blue eyes? I have seen many dark-skinned Adami in Aton-Ri but most have equally dark eyes. I had wondered since I first met you, but in the guild, asking questions about someone’s distinctive physical characteristics is a quick path to a thumpin’.”
“Yes, Thatcher,” Gideon chuckled. “My grandfather’s mother was full V’rassi. My blue eyes and a few more years of life, should I manage to keep them from ending by unnatural means, are the legacy of my great-grandmother. And fear not, my young friend, there is no question you might ask of me that would result in a thumpin’ of any sort.”
“So then,” Goldain joined the inquiries, “is your family still living in Paryn’s Gate?”
“My father was a great paladin and soldier for the king,” Gideon answered with a somber tone returning to his voice, “but he was killed just before the end of the civil war I told you about. My mother died giving birth to me, so my paternal grandfather took me in. He is a great paladin and a childhood friend of King Paryn. He serves the king still as high marshal of the Council of Paladins. It was grandfather that taught me the way of the sword and the wisdom of the One Lord.”
“Well,” Goldain replied, “it seems you have as much cause to be bitter about the war as Garan does.”
“No, my friend,” Gideon answered, shaking his head, “my father gave his life, trying to secure peace between our peoples. There is no way for me to honor a life given for the cause of peace by maintaining a spirit of conflict.”
“Brother Gideon,” Duncan said, with no hint this time of his usual joviality, “it is a sad tale you share, but I think it is one which we all will bear in our hearts and minds when we face Xyer Garan. It is not anger we should feel for this man, but pity for one so trapped in inexplicable resentment that it robs him of good friends and good company.”
The others nodded in agreement, save Melizar.
As the company proceeded toward the merchant district, Melizar was deeply pondering Gideon’s story. Of all present, Melizar best understood the rage evinced by Xyer Garan. The shadowy mage was the only one of the company who truly knew the danger such feelings could bring. He would allow these fellows their well-intentioned sympathies, but would keep an altogether more watchful eye on Xyer Garan.
As they approached the merchant district, Arreya spoke. They were all startled, even the normally vigilant mage. None had even noticed the half-Zafirr huntress silently following along since they left the muster grounds. The fact that not even the hyper-observant thief Thatcher, trained in noticing things, had realized she was tagging along was a testament to her stealth.
“I have my own preparations to make,” she said. “It was a noble tale, Gideon, and well told. You should have been a bard. Nonetheless, I shall see you all at dawn at the west gate.”
With that, she bounded off with surprising speed southward. Melizar saw Thatcher and Goldain watching her departure with aesthetic admiration. From what he knew of his companions, Melizar surmised Goldain was attentive to her obvious beauty and Thatcher with a growing appreciation of her stealth and grace.
The remainder of the day saw preparations made and sharing of the evening meal. Captain Gideon laughed as none had seen before when they relayed to him Goldain’s embellishment of Thatcher’s deeds, as told to Arreya, and the alternate explanation for his bumps and bruises.
“Well, kid,” added Goldain, “it certainly impressed our new tracker more than telling her you fell out of bed.”
“Yes,” Thatcher agreed, “I think I like your version much better, Goldain. Let’s make that the official version if anyone else asks.”
Melizar was glad that their companions pushed Thatcher no further for the true tale of his injuries but instead enjoyed a pleasant meal and restful evening. The boy would speak about it when he felt it was necessary. Melizar understood the need for secrecy more than the rest of them. He was growing to like the young thief. The real question was could the D’zarik chats-enash mage allow himself the luxury of a friend. That was another question altogether.
As for their mission, the mysteries were no closer to being solved, but it gave Melizar a sense of purpose to know at least they had a plan for solving them. With the praises of Arreya on his mind, no doubt Thatcher would sleep the sleep of a hero even if he was only one yet in Goldain’s imaginative tales. Goldain’s obvious embellishments were filling the lad’s head with tales of adventure and glory, two things that in Melizar’s experience too often were fatal attractions. Still if he could spend more time with the boy, perhaps he could teach him enough caution to survive to adulthood.
Caravan Assembled
Goldain and his companions gathered at the gate before dawn making the final preparations to depart. The Qarahni prince had been trained to lead men from a very young age, but he much preferred to swing a sword in execution of orders than twisting his brain giving them. Thankfully Captains Gideon and Tropham, both experienced military commanders, and young Thatcher whose plan they were carrying out, stayed up late last night with Goldain sorting through all the details. He knew that since he had been the one to call for those willing to see this plan though to join him, he must, at least until they were outside the gate, look like the one in charge.
A collection of rather motley and unmatched tabards donned by half of Captain Tropham’s men would disguise their actual armor and blazoning. This made the veteran troops appear as nothing more than a mixed bag of hired soldiers employed by a miserly merchant to guard his caravan. They carried spears, considered the weapons of peasants, while hiding their swords beneath the long tabards. To aid in covering their true battle capabilities, For this mission Tropham had selected duelists, warriors skilled in fighting with sword and dagger rather than sword and shields.
The other half of Tropham’s men concealed themselves in covered wagons and carts drawn by haggard-looking mules and unkempt draft horses. Tropham intentionally chose footmen for this task. Trained warhorses, even ones hitched to wagons, would have stood out and aroused suspicion.
Durgak rarely fought mounted, and Duncan assured Goldain and Captian Gideon that the berserkers under his brother’s command would want nothing under them but solid ground in battle. There was plenty of room in half-empty wagons to hide the Durgak warriors once they joined the caravan.
The few other hirelings who had signed on, either in response to Goldain’s announcement at the muster grounds or his subsequent notices posted in several taverns, were mostly novice fortune-hunters, looking for work with more experienced adventurers. They each disguised themselves as merchants or simple drivers with their weapons hidden nearby as they drove the caravan wagons.
The plan called for six wagons in all, five for troops posing as cargo wagons leading the way and one filled with supplies to serve as the cook’s wagon bringing up the rear. Two drivers per wagon would pose as merchants. Captain Tropham would be on wagon one alone until they reached Stonehold, holding his second seat for the bezrek commander, Duncan’s brother Donovan. Captain Gideon would hide inside this first wagon with the Adami and Durgak troops joining him. Each of the fiv
e non-supply wagons to hold two of Tropham’s men and four bezrek troops each with the remainder of Tropham’s men marching along as infantry guards.
Thatcher and one of the hirelings named Kohana would drive the second wagon. The young thief was glad to have a stable platform from which to fire his crossbow in the event of trouble. Kohana was a Somamu, an Adami race from the western islands. He spoke even less of the common Adami language than Thatcher’s half-Somamu guildmate, Thannos. He wore only short pants and a belt to hold the twin elongated kukri he wielded as weapons. Running blue tattoo lines covering his face and chest gave him a fearsome appearance.
After stuttering some Somamu words Thatcher picked up from Thannos, and utilizing copious amounts of pantomime, they managed to convince the islander to don a hooded surcoat to help him stand out a bit less. Kohana looked uncomfortable in this second skin, but for the wages he would earn on this journey, he seemed willing to be uncomfortable. Goldain would hide in the back with the troops of this second wagon.
Melizar drove the third wagon, accompanied by Ohanzee, perhaps the most unusual of the hirelings. The man was a Shade, a form of chats-enash, whose non-human parent was of a race called the Umbra. Umbra were called “living shadows”. These subterranean humanoids had shifting skin pigments, allowing them to sneak and blend in with the shadows of the night. Umbra served the Ayabim called Rashaad the counselor, and were known not only for their stealth abilities but for their tendency to study mind-controlling kashaph magic. Less-than-scrupulous leaders, valuing power and knowledge more than honor, sought Umbra out as spies, counselors, and advisors.
Fool's Errand Page 9