Dawn tested the young woman in this contest of bartering. It was a give and take, checking to see if she was reasonable, logical, and fair or if she would try to cheat or didn’t know what she was doing. She was young, but smart and knew how things worked. Gruedo did the same to her, and found herself enjoying the back and forth as she did with any challenge.
Rogen stood in a corner of the office behind Dawn. He watched the newcomers. The older of the two showed a holy symbol of Jonath. It was odd for a priest of the God of justice, earth, and protection to be associating with a street thug. He would like to say it was because it was odd times, but throughout his life, Rogen had seen men of power and respect doing things that even the lowest of street people would not consider. He watched them, looking closer now. The priest Cyril was uncomfortable. Not nervous, but not used to the type of situation in which he found himself. His eyes darted back and forth and he kept looking at the doors, as if he had somewhere else to be, or something else he felt he should be doing. Gruedo was playing the game she was born to play. At the right times in the story she leaned in, and looked amazed, but not too much. She showed doubt when it would heighten Dawn’s story and absolute faith when it was necessary. She didn’t do it so much that it seemed false, just enough to make anyone relax, even someone like Dawn.
Cite stared at the two people who had appeared on the street and debated on using his abilities to try to find the reason they were represented in his dream. He skimmed the surface of their feelings. He felt excitement from the younger one. It was obvious she was enjoying herself. The other one was confident and serene enough, yet impatient for something. The meeting finished and Dawn and Gruedo stood and shook hands, clasping each other’s forearms at the wrist. Cite knew he had to do something before they parted ways.
“You seek to cleanse the silver tower of its taint?” he asked. Everyone turned to look at him, unsure who he had asked.
“I seek to return Silver Castle to the hands of the church,” Cyril answered, with a wary look.
Cite let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. “Silver Castle? The legendary castle built by Jonath himself?” Cite asked. The others in the room looked at the two strangers. Gruedo looked amazed. Rogen watched Cyril and Gruedo to gauge their reactions. Dawn sat back down and leaned back with her hands behind her head and a wide smile on her face, as she put her booted feet up on an empty chair.
“The same,” Cyril nodded, “as well as the Silver City too.”
“You are but half, followed by your shadow. Which appears darker because of your shine,” Cite mumbled.
“Pardon me?” Cyril asked and Gruedo echoed, “What was that? I am no man’s shadow.”
Cite turned to look at Rogen. “Three years ago, maybe five, I dreamt of them. I didn’t remember it till now, but I can check my journals for more details.”
“Excuse me?” Gruedo interrupted, “You dreamed about me? I’ve never met you before. What kind of weirdo are you?”
“He’s a dreamer,” Dawn said. “He has dreams of the future that come true. And he is a powerful mage to boot. I have seen him cripple men with a thought and a wave of his hand.”
Gruedo took a step backwards. Rogen watched and wondered who played whom more, Dawn or Gruedo. Dawn appeared to be falling for everything Gruedo had put out on the table, but now Gruedo took everything she said as truth. She didn’t think twice before accepting such an impossible feat. Either that, or Gruedo had seen magic before.
Cite waved his hands in front of him and said, “No, no. I am not dangerous. Don’t be nervous.” Gruedo eyes followed every movement the man’s hands made. “I just, I mean, it was an accident. Let me explain, no, I shouldn’t. Not here. Cyril, you have the gifts of your God?”
Cyril nodded and cocked his head as he watched the mage. “What do you mean, ‘I am half’?” he asked.
“You are followed then? By something dark, or in the dark? It appears worse than it is because of your deeds?” Cite asked and Cyril nodded again.
“You say you know about my mission from a dream?” the priest asked.
“Our mission,” Gruedo corrected.
“Our mission then. What else do you know about it?”
Cite hesitated for a moment as he collected his thoughts, breathed a cleansing breathe to calm himself then began, “The forest of yews and ash becomes weapons and gravestones. You are the shining light that may cleanse the Silver Tower, or Castle as you call it. She,” Cite pointed at Gruedo, “is drawn to you, and came from a fallen tower, or perhaps castle, and will be sought by a black tower who may try to buy him or tempt him with money or emotional pain.”
“I came from a castle?” Gruedo asked. “I don’t think so. I was raised by the church of Promethene.”
“An orphan?” Cite asked.
“Yeah, an orphan. Wait a second, that doesn’t mean, look, every kid dreams of shit like that. I won’t even begin to believe that. It is too cliché, like a second rate overdone bedtime story.”
“It doesn’t mean you are a prince. This is no fairy tale. You could have been a chambermaid’s child from a roll in the hay with the stable boy for all I know. I am just saying you probably come from someplace big that may have been destroyed or changed so much it is no longer the same place.”
“Oh.” Gruedo said, quieting. She looked a disappointed.
“The bottom line is someone or something very powerful and evil does not want this to happen, my dreams have shown me that. I want to do everything I can to help.”
Cyril looked over the gathering and thought about the evil he had seen. How Duke Malvornick had brought his entourage to Humbrey and began frequenting the official functions and unofficial parties. The Duke had donated to the church, buying his way into influencing it over a decade, becoming indispensable. Jonath had decided to send the help he needed. “Is it just you that wants to help?” he asked.
“I will be going with the boy,” Rogen said, “and I believe the lass here will be coming also.”
Dawn nodded from her reclined position. “Parsay provides where Fate fears to tread,” she said.
Cyril looked at Cite and noticed the man was watching him. Cite met his eyes and realized he was staring. Looking down, then anywhere else except at Cyril, Cite said, “So, where are we going and what exactly do we need to do?”
Cite motioned Dawn over to him as they departed the warehouse. They slowed as they fell behind the others. Cite spoke in low tones so he would not be overheard.
“Cyril has had a run in with your Duke Malvornick. I felt it coming from him when I told him I wanted to help.”
“What do you mean? Does he work for him?” Dawn asked, her voice quiet.
“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t go into his mind, but I get the feeling he may be motivated by Malvornick, but not in a good way. He harbors negative feelings towards him. I also felt something about his family, or the church, or some group Cyril is close to.”
Dawn nodded and touched Cite’s arm in a gesture of thanks. She moved forward to catch up with the others, explaining she needed to find buyers before it was dark. Gruedo and Dawn went to find Bezel and bring him to the buyers for the monster.
Gruedo had decided it would be best to sell the tale with the tail, as she put it. The head would be most valuable. People would pay premium money for the eyes, brain and teeth, but first Gruedo wanted to see if someone would buy the whole head. She knew a few taverns she thought would be interested in having the head of the beast that caused the Great Wave of Fifty-Four.
Cyril led Cite and Rogen back to the Red Door. The three men sat over a meal, each lost in their own thoughts. People looked at the odd trio. They looked like two merchants and their short, hairy bodyguard. Rogen soon excused himself saying he needed to go find some information while in town.
Rogen entered a gambling house, the Wicked Vice, which was owned by him. It has been cleared of all its customers, and only the proprietor – a wiry man with a lazy eye named Jactin – re
mained besides one other. A young lady with brown hair to her shoulders sat reclined in a padded velvet chair by the fire. Smiling, she waved at Rogen. Rogen nodded and made his way to her, looking over the room as he did. He saw the half dozen one-way mirrors which guards normally stood behind, waiting in case of trouble. They would be abandoned now.
“Kaht,” Rogen nodded as he drew a chair away from a table and sat in it.
“Master,” the young lady said, smiling, “how was your journey?”
“Tedious and almost deadly for me, thank you for asking. What information do you have?”
“Lots,” she said, watching Jactin as he made himself busy behind the long, polished bar. “Would you like me to tell you now, or after your gadfly friend leaves?”
“Now,” Rogen said, “Jactin will be bringing me a drink, some food, and a few other things.”
“Very well,” Kaht’s eyes twinkled as she leaned forward so the Rokairn could hear her better. “Duke Malvornick is moving his people into places where he can make trouble. Grenedal Dragonblood is to be trusted, he is doing everything he can to be a thorn in the crazy nobleman’s side and ruin his plans. Everyway is an ant nest of activity since the dead rose and killed hundreds of people. But the good news is that we have gained a few allies. Not many, but powerful people who want to save what they can. Most operate for selfish purposes, but they match our own for the moment.”
“What of the Troöds?”
“They are silent, for the most part. At least since we shut down the half dozen magical factories where they were harvesting energy. I think they have more pressing matters to attend to, or they have spread themselves too thin to keep up their plans on all fronts.”
“Good, I do hate them.” Rogen paused as Jactin arrived with a tray laden with steaming meats, piping hot bread, fresh fruits, a crystal decanter of brandy, and two glasses. The two waited until the man had set it down, and looked at them expectantly.
“That will be all Jactin,” Rogen said, forking a strip of rare meat and bringing it to his mouth. “We will be fine now. Find something to do for an hour or two, you will remain closed until tomorrow. I want you to use our resources here to help people in this town, and not the gamblers who come here, but the real folks who need help.”
The thin man blinked, surprised, then nodded and turned away. He disappeared behind a heavy velvet curtain. The two waited as Rogen poured them both a drink, and ate a bit from the tray.
“Won’t he listen in?” Kaht asked, sipping her drink.
“Oh yes,” Rogen nodded, “even if I told him not to. But he will remain loyal even when skimming enough to make himself rich. He will only use the information to protect my interests, or to slit the throats of those who oppose my plans.”
“Very good then,” Kaht said appreciably, “Shall I continue?”
Rogen nodded as he ate.
“I have infiltrated three houses in Everyway, using the contacts you provided from your slave trade, and gathered enough damning information to bring them to their knees.”
“Good, twist the knife and make them shut down any trade that appears to have anything to do with the Troöds.”
“Why do you hate them so much, Master? If I may be so bold and ask?”
“Yes, you should know the reasons. They are not of this world and seek to destroy us, and open portals to their own world. I am not sure why they want this. It may be to leave here, or it may be to bring more troops here and decimate our peoples. Either way, I do not trust them. And I have attempted trade with them more time than years you have in your life.
“There is a place called Daeth’s Pass. It wasn’t originally named that, but that is what it is called now. Aeifain, Rokairn, and Humans came together to build a fortress that bordered all three of their territories. It was a wondrous place, with the magics of the Aeifain, the building skill of the Rokairn, and the drive of Humans all combined to make one place where we could all work together. The Troöds infiltrated this newly built miracle and using their shape shifting and mind control turned us against each other and destroyed one of the greatest hopes the three races have ever had. They deal with demons, opening our world to them. And so much more.
“Now,” Rogen said, spearing a vegetable, and sipping his drink, “tell me more of this Grenedal and these other allies.”
Cite reviewed what Cyril had told them in the warehouse. They agreed that they would leave as soon as they finished their business in town and had the supplies they needed for the journey. They needed to find Silver Castle, which was across the plains, which had marauding undead legions, and then into either the foothills of the Halfway Hills, or the forest called Oceaphylius Glensharrow. The city and castle were in the southwest corner of that forest, not too far from the coast. They discussed the possibility of going oversea but decided against it due to the recent events, finding a ship, trusting a captain and crew, and other such difficulties.
They decided an overland march would be longer, but have a better chance of success. They would follow the coast. It would bring them to a handful of larger towns and a dozen or smaller fishing villages. There was no telling if these were controlled by Kala the Black or by humans. A direct route would be much shorter, though it brought them very close to the capitol city of Kala’s lands, Shoulsia Sharrow.
They would ride from Edgewater and go due west, turning south when they reached the Halfway Hills. They should find a free town named New Roval at that point, where they could restock provisions before going into the forest. From there they would take a southwest course and hope to find the tip of the middle branch of the Trident River, called Wisdom. Heading west from there, they should be able to skirt the top of the Ocean River. The mountain from which Jonath had carved Silver Castle should be able to be seen and used as a guide at that point. A four-hundred-mile journey, Rogen said it should take about three weeks on foot, less on horses, more if they find danger. If things went well, they should be able to return by the first week of Witen, the first month of winter.
It was more than an hour after dark when Gruedo and Dawn returned to the Red Door. Cite noticed a large form across the street watching as his two friends entered the door. The room was filled with people, smoke, and noise. Dawn handed Cite a package as she sat down at the table and he forgot about the figure outside.
“Don’t ask what it is, just open it,” she said. Cite untied the string holding the material around the bulky gift. He unwrapped it to find a case about three feet long of soft black oiled leather. He had already guessed the contents by the shape of the package, and if he hadn’t, Dawn was pushing the thought at him without even knowing. He pulled on the ties that held it close and opened the case. Inside was a beautifully crafted lute that was just shorter than its case. It had eight strings and the top of the neck at the tuning pins was bent backwards at an angle. A strap lay across it. He looked at Dawn, a question on his face.
“You helped kill the beast too,” she said, as Cite began to tune the instrument, “and you deserve some reward. I also saw how much you enjoy playing while onboard, and you don’t have an instrument to play at the moment. It doesn’t look like you’ll have a chance to make one while we are on the road, so I picked one up. Besides, with your memory and skill at playing I figured if a bard is going to write the tale of this journey, it should be the one that was involved in it.”
“Good idea!” Gruedo said and stood up. She climbed onto his chair and shouted to get the attention of the room.
“What the hell is she doing?” Dawn asked Cyril. He shrugged, but gave her a knowing look and sighed.
“Hey, people! You have all heard of the Beast of the Bay, the Sea monster of the Sea of Seron, the Demon of the Darkened Depths! Now, meet the Captain of Lady Luck, the woman who defeated the beast. Parsay’s own chosen consort, Lady Luck herself, Captain Dawn Redblood!” Gruedo waved for Dawn to stand as the crowd began to cheer. She glared at the girl as she stood.
“To tell the tale of her heroic deed, the m
an who stood at her side and fought the monster, the infamous bard from across the Rolling Mountains, traveling companion of Rogen the Plague, and Seer of the Future, Cite the Bard!”
Cite groaned as Gruedo announced the litany of titles and information he did not want made public. The people, obviously used to the bragging that went with such things, called for the tale of the event as Cite stood with his lute in hand.
The crowd quieted and Gruedo pushed Cite towards the small stage in the corner. Cite stepped onto the platform and turned to face the crowd. He searched his mind for a tune, one that was known but not so popular that the people would put other words to it. He chose one that was popular from the lands east of his village, knowing it would be rarely heard here, if ever. He began to pluck out the tune, his fingers finding the strings and building in skill as he came to know the instrument. He found words and put together a song on the spot, hoping it would appease the crowd.
Starting slow and building in intensity, Cite led the audience into the song. He was no poet and making up the lyrics on the spot was not something he was practiced at. By stretching out the lute parts between the verses, it allowed him to create the next four lines.
Dawn rose in the world and touched the sea,
Her love grew on the waves endlessly,
She found her crew and made it her family,
And was touched by Parsay on her journey.
A monster burst from the depths of dark,
The length of a ship, the heart of a shark,
It devoured all things, bringing life’s end,
Till Captain Redblood, the Gods did send.
A Troöd killed a man and his shape it took,
Bringing death for the crew, from pilot to cook,
The plan of evil fulfilled, like a fish on the hook,
It pulled in the others, but Dawn was not shook.
Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One Page 24