Armies of the Silver Mage

by Christian Freed

  “This isn’t good,” Jinse said, his throat suddenly dry.

  Hallis sat still and watched. He’d already given up trying to count. The rookie didn’t fare so well. Barely past his teen years, the troopers was on the verge of snapping. Never in his days did he actually expect to go to war. Yet here he sat, locked on the brink of a fate inescapable. Doom was returned to the world of men. The veterans noticed his wild look and moved to keep him from doing something brash.

  A lightning bolt blasted a nearby rock into a shower of sparks and pebbles, spooking all of their horses. The rookie was thrown into a boulder before his horse ran off in the direction of the Goblin camp. Jinse was the first to recover and desperately dashed after the horse before it was too late. Hallis immediately went to his fallen trooper. He was halfway there when Fate intervened.

  Black arrows rained down on the fallen trooper, killing him instantly a dozen times over. Hallis snatched his shield in a useless effort, for the enemy was on both sides. The assault ended with a horrible roar from the rocks above. A Mountain Troll burst from cover, mighty war hammer in hand and squads of Goblins at his heels. Hallis was cut off. Jinse wheeled about and drew his sword. The odds were against them and they knew it. Then Jinse did something Hallis didn’t expect. The grizzled old veteran roared back at the Troll and charged into their ranks.

  “Go!” he bellowed to Hallis.

  The last thing Hallis saw was his friend plowing into the enemy. One of them had to live to warn Averon. Jinse chose Hallis. Both men spurred their horses hard; one into certain death and the other back into the mountain passes. Jinse offered the ultimate sacrifice and Hallis would be damned if he let it go to waste.

  SIX

  They walked until their feet burned and their muscles too sore to carry on. There wasn’t any urgency to their actions, for they didn’t really have a specific destination. Packs filled with travel rations and trinkets to remind them of home, Delin and Fennic managed to snare a rabbit or two and even caught a few trout from the stream running parallel to the road. The weather was as good as it could be for traveling on foot, and they prayed it remained that way, at least until they reached Alloenis and a cozy inn to wash away the grime of the road.

  Fennic was the more excited by far. He enjoyed working in the mill, but there was an indescribable freedom from being alone on the path into the unknown. For the first time in his young life he held the power to make his own choices and live a life worthy of his dreams. Part of him always thought Delin was crazy for wanting this type of life and he surely never had the intention of leaving home and everything he knew. Not like this. Maybe it was Phaelor whispering in his mind at night, or the Gods themselves that opened this new window to his soul. Whatever started it, Fennic knew it was a long road to wander before the journey was over. The greatest pleasure Delin found in the early days of their adventure came from removing his boots and letting the fire warm his bedraggled feet at the end of a long day. They’d left Fel Darrins three days ago and his body still hadn’t accepted the task imposed upon it.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking all those years I wasted in trying to convince you to do this,” Delin admitted as he lazily stretched out next to the fire. “All of this walking is doing murder to my feet!”

  Fennic’s laugh lacked the innocence it once held. “And I never thought you’d be the one to want to go home. This is supposed to be your adventure.”

  “Oh no! This is all you, my friend. You and that fancy sword of yours. You know why I’m here,” Delin protested. The hours spent daydreaming of a time like this turned out to be far from what reality had in store.

  Fennic shrugged it off. “How far do you suppose it is to Relin Werd?” He chewed casually on a mint leaf. Fennic had a whole pouch of them and it was his grandmother’s fault. She’d gotten him hooked on them at a young age and now he found himself chewing on them after almost every meal. These were a gift from Tarren.

  Delin shook his head. “It can’t be more than a day the way we’ve been marching.”

  “I’ve set an easy pace and given you every opportunity to speed up or slow down,” he replied. “Besides, the exercise is good for us.”

  “I got enough exercise working in the chandlery, thank you very much. You just figure out where we’re going after we get to Alloenis, providing we make it there in one piece.”

  Everyone knew the stories of life in the bigger cities. Alloenis was far from the grandeur of Paedwyn and still much larger than Fel Darrins and her surrounding farmsteads combined. The increased population meant heavier trade and entertainment, more profit and, doubtlessly, a horde of thieves and pick pockets. The best thing going for the boys lay in not having anything of value to steal. Nothing except the silver and diamond sword.

  “We still need to figure out what to do with your sword,” Delin idly continued.

  A sudden whisper among the trees froze his words in his throat. The movement was slight enough that he normally wouldn’t have seen it on his best days, especially over the glare and cackling of the fire. Moving as slow as he could, Fennic reached for Phaelor. Touching the steel opened a new world. He felt it speaking to him, soothing him in a voice as old as time. It told him there was no danger in the forest, no threat from the enemy. Slowly, much too slowly for his comfort, Fennic’s heart slowed and he released the sword. He looked over to Delin, who was already asleep.

  * * *

  It was dawn again and reasonably cool. The boys were coated with dew, for the fire had gone out sometime during the night. Delin awoke with a slight shiver. He was starting to hate this life. Fennic on the other hand, rose refreshed and ready to take on the world again. Delin scowled at his friend. Darkening skies didn’t do much for his spirits either.. Today was going to be decidedly miserable.

  “Looks like rain,” he said. “Perfect.”

  Fennic agreed. “We might be able to make the forest edge without getting caught. Come on, let’s hurry and finish breaking camp.”

  A strong gust of cold wind announced the fringes of the storm. They might make it a few more leagues, but nowhere near Relin Werd. He cursed himself again for not thinking enough to bring a map of the kingdom. If it weren’t for the occasional traveler, they wouldn’t even be sure if this was the right road to Alloenis. They’d barely been on the road for an hour before the first sprinkling of rain came.

  The rest of the day was spent ducking from tree to tree on the edges of the road and cowering under a heavy bough when the storm grew angry. High winds pelted hail down on them, littering the boys with welts and bruises. It was already mid-afternoon and they barely managed a handful of miles. Delin spied a huge, bored out oak not far ahead and felt his spirits rise. Together they dashed forward to safety. The shelter was large and mossy, and, more importantly, vacant. It had just enough room for the two of them, which was no problem seeing as how all the natural fuel for a fire was soaked. They huddled together for warmth and road out the storm.

  “What are you thinking?” Fennic asked to break the boredom.

  Delin blew into his wrinkled hands. “I’m giving serious thought on turning around and going home before this nonsense gets worse. And you’d do well to think the same. We should have told our parents about the sword the moment we came home. Nothing good will come of this. Mark my words.”

  Maybe it was the weather and the miserable conditions he was in, or maybe he was simply tired of being treated like an incompetent. Whatever it was, Fennic wasn’t taking any more.

  “Don’t you talk to me like that! The only reason I have this sword is from listening to your bright ideas. You wanted to go fishing. You wanted to go inside his home. And you filled my head with fancy tales and day dreams of far away lands. The last thing I need is your attitude about my responsibilities in keeping our families safe and seeing to Phaelor doing what it needs to.”

  Delin was actually speechless. He didn’t like being the one with the negative energy, but someone had to be thinking with their head now. Hi
s guilt over the situation was as much as Fennic’s, probably more so. He owed his friend for putting up with his own antics for so long, and he owed himself the gift of dream.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered in a whisper. “It’s wrong of me to be so mean. We’re in this together. Things will get better once we get out of this rain and into a soft bed in Alloenis with a hot meal in us. I promise.”

  Fennic accepted the apology without grudge. They’d been best friends almost from birth, and in more arguments than any other people he knew. He put an arm around Delin and squeezed.

  “I’m sorry too. My whole world changed the moment I touched the sword. I’ve seen visions of a history no one could possibly imagine, even you Delin. It’s like Phaelor is alive. It has a will of it’s own. Old Man Wiffe was right. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the coming days and weeks, and that scares me. Fel Darrins may have been boring, but it was home and comfortable. But now. I don’t know.”

  Neither of them spoke for a long while. Both had expunged their childish behaviors and insecurities and that was the end of the matter. They were at a critical junction in the adventure and needed to be whole if they were going to survive. Soon, before either of them knew, they were fast asleep.

  * * *

  Delin awoke just before dusk. The rains were gone, though the sky was plagued with grey clouds. It was depressing, but not so much as a few hours earlier. Birdsong told him the rains wouldn’t be coming back soon. Delin rubbed his hands over his water logged clothes, surprise at how dry they’d gotten from their combined body heat. Fennic was still asleep, and Delin wanted him to stay that way. He always liked being alone from time to time and felt he needed the extra space right now. Satisfied for the moment, Delin got out of the tree and stretched before going off to look for flammable materials. If they didn’t get dry from a fire they’d both catch pneumonia.

  The fire was warm, though decidedly small due to uncontrollable circumstances. Fennic awoke a short while later and they ate a meager meal of dried fruits and nuts before agreeing to move on a few more hours. The trip, short as it was, proved to be relatively safe and uneventful. They even managed to collect enough wood and kindling to start a healthy fire strong enough to dry their clothes and cook a hot meal. Fennic instinctively checked Phaelor for sign of the enemy before going to sleep. Finishing off a roasted grouse for breakfast, they were packed and moving again not long after the sun rose. They joked and sang songs, carrying on like children without worry. Lunch came and went. The sun was high and beaming. They were dry and marching on full stomachs. Nothing seemed like it could go wrong.

  “What do you suppose wants to become our dinner tonight?” Delin asked with a chuckle.

  They’d been fortunate thus far, but even the best hunters knew better than to rely on luck keeping the satisfied.

  “Rabbit sounds nice,” Fennic answered. “I’ve still got a few potatoes and carrots. Even an onion I think. We could make a good stew with that.”

  They weren’t able to snare a rabbit, though Delin managed to kill two squirrels with his slingshot. Meat was meat after all. Fennic’s stew proved to be every bit as tasty with the squirrel meat. Delin paused to look around for the first time. Finally they had reached the borders of the great Relin Werd. The trees were enormous and every shade of green he could imagine. Giant ferns scattered the ground in vast fields. Wild flowers in their final bloom were everywhere, mixed in with saplings and bushes. Pockets of light and shadow played with their vision in beautiful patterns. In short, Relin Werd was everything they were told it was, and more.

  The stew was cooking, not quite ready yet. The boys were locked in a discussion of days long past. Crickets chirped and hummed as the sun began to set. Delin started laughing when a strange man in grey robes burst into the campsite and collapsed just shy of the fire. Fennic jumped back and drew Phaelor. Delin’s slingshot was already loaded and aimed. They inched closer, ready for a trap. Phaelor warned caution in subtle undertones. Fennic slowly leaned down to try and turn the man over so they could see his face. The wild man suddenly shot an arm up in a silent plea for help before letting it fall again. Both boys stood wide eyed. What were going to do about this?

  SEVEN

  “What should we do with him?” Fennic asked.

  Delin, unwilling to loosen his aim, said, “You had the right of it with that fancy sword. Finish him quick. He’s probably the one who killed Old Man Wiffe.”

  Fennic shook his head. Phaelor would have told him if he were. “I don’t think so. He seems harmless enough at any rate. Besides, Phaelor’s not warning me.”

  “Harmless! He could have killed us both if he wanted to,” Delin argued.

  “Precisely my point. You do a good job of proving yourself wrong. It comes in handy from time to time. My point is that if this man wanted to kill us, he would have.”

  “It could be a trap. He might be working for the enemy,” Delin cautioned. “I say we tie him up and get some answers when he comes to.”

  “How does that make us better than the enemy?” Fennic asked. He knew Phaelor was making himself unstable, but Delin’s newfound obsession with the “enemy” was growing dangerous. The entire situation was spiraling out of control. The wild man groaned and tried to roll over. The boys jumped back, weapons raised. His hand dropped back down and Fennic laid a reassuring hand on Delin’s wrist. Having had enough, Fennic reached down and rolled the man over so the could get a good look at him.

  He was shocked. This man was older than Wiffe! Age and experience etched deep lines in his face and hands. He had a peppered beard and moustache, more scruff than beard really. His high forehead was scarred and creased. All he wore were simple grey robes and appeared without purse or wallet. All in all, he seemed a simple man. Exactly the reason Delin felt defensive.

  “I have a bad feeling,” Delin continued.

  He was back far enough to cover Fennic providing his best friend leapt clear in time. The old man groaned again and reached a shaky hand up to massage his temples. Fennic felt his heart leap. Could Phaelor be wrong, he wondered. There wasn’t time to worry about it, because the man was soon sitting up and staring back at them with pale green eyes.

  “Well,” he finally said in a groggy voice. “I seem to have taken a terrible stumble. Don’t suppose either of you boys could tell me where I am? I’ve never been good with navigating. At least I’m not a pilot on one of the great ships of the oceans. We’d be lost for years!”

  “Ah, I don’t mean to sound rude, but we have no idea who you are or why you are here,” Fennic stated.

  The old man offered a quizzical look. “You don’t catch on very quick, do you lad? I already said I don’t know where I am and you asking me isn’t going to make me magically recall. Or perhaps your ears don’t work quite right? I knew a man back in, oh bother, what was the name of that place? Seems I bumped my head harder than I thought.”

  Delin eased forward. “That’s all well and fine, granddad, but we still want to know who you are.”

  “By my reckoning that puts us on even ground, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Neither boy moved.

  “Fine, fine. Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Dakeb by some. Worse by others of course, and I am more than pleased to make your acquaintance,” he smiled.

  “It’s been a frightful spell since I last entertained guests so I may not be very good at it. Forgive me if I lose you from time to time.”

  “Guests?” Delin asked. “Old man, you came crashing into our campsite. How do you figure we’re your guests?”

  Dakeb gave them a confused look. “Ah, yes. I see your point. Am I interrupting then?”

  “Nothing special if that’s what you mean, Master Dakeb,” Fennic said.

  “Master? I rather like the sound of that. Makes me out to be nobility of a sort. Speaking of rudeness though. I’ve gone through great pains to let you know who I am and you two haven’t said a peep about yourselves. Your parents must have raised you better th
an that,” Dakeb scolded.

  Fennic blushed, forgetting they were supposed to be in charge. Delin, on the other hand, had no misconceptions about what was developing. Dakeb had come upon them, whether by mere chance or not, and quickly stole their initial superiority. He’d effortlessly turned the table and it could only get worse.

  “I’m Fennic Attleford and this is my best friend Delin Kerny. We’re from Fel

  Darrins,” he said before Delin could stop him.

  Dakeb tilted his head. “Fel Darrins. It’s been a long time since I was last there. Nice little town as I recall. Quiet and out of the way. Not very important in the grand scheme of things.”

  “You know more than you lead on,” Delin accused.

  Flames reflected in his green eyes. Dakeb had seen his share of the world and knew more than either of them could begin to imagine. Dangerous times were gripping Averon and Delin and Fennic were too far from understanding how deep the repercussions were going to stretch. The old man chose his words carefully.

  “Well met indeed,” Dakeb said with a smile. He looked down at the dwindling fire.

  “It might stand to add a few more logs and twigs. My blood doesn’t seem to flow as well as it did. I must be getting old. Hmm. Imagine that. If this keeps up I shan’t be around much longer. Don’t suppose you’ve got an extra spot to eat? Traveling is hungry business, as I’m sure you know by now.” He paused. “Exactly how far is to your little town of Fel Darrins?”

  “A few days,” Fennic answered. “Probably a lot closer than where we’re heading.”

  Dakeb’s eyebrow raised. “You make it sound as if you’re running from something.”

  The old man shifted his gaze to the darkening forest. An owl’s call brought a thin smile to his weathered face. “Soothing isn’t it? Owls are among the brighter species but have a nasty tendency towards aggression. Wouldn’t want to get nipped by that sharp beak. You know, I just remembered you still haven’t mentioned what forest we are in. My memory isn’t what is used to be.”