by Jim Galford
“For a trained warrior, you are very easily offended,” Nenophar said, leading the way down one of the halls. “Have you killed before, Raeln?”
“Only in battle.”
“Battle is what you make of it,” the man replied, turning them down a narrower passage. “We are at war with the forces of the undead. If a serving woman stands between a partial victory and certain defeat, would you not kill her without a second thought?”
“I would question whether it was the right decision and look for another way. If there was no choice, I probably would kill her.”
“Hesitation allows for chance to get the upper-hand in the moment. Act decisively and there will be less opportunity for your fate to catch up with you. This is a valuable lesson for any mortal.”
Raeln glanced down at the powder coating his feet. “What’s to stop my fate from ending up like hers?”
Smiling, Nenophar shoved open a door on the left side of the hall, motioning for Raeln to go in. “Raeln, there are many ways that one can meet their fate. Yours has been unwritten. What little I do know is that if I were to kill you as I did that woman”—the man pointed at the pile of ash far behind them in the hallway—“it would set my own fate in stone. I don’t know why that is yet, but I have no desire to forego any hope of a better outcome for my own life. You are as safe with me as Ilarra is.”
Raeln looked into the room they had stopped at, finding a large study with an ornate desk covered with books and unrolled parchments. “And how safe is she?” he asked, still not going into the room.
“My life and the lives of many others depends on your continued survival. What little I have been told of my future makes me dearly wish that, if we fail in this task, you can find a way to kill me and spare me from my fate.”
“Let me guess,” said Raeln, glaring at Nenophar. “Somehow you know that you’ll become a Turessian, like Ilarra.”
“Precisely,” replied Nenophar.
“Who are you?” Raeln asked. “I’ve never met anyone who talks about the future and their own fate like you do.”
Nenophar grinned and shrugged, moving into the room. He pointed at the door once he was inside. “Close that behind you. The stakes in this war are dire. Who I am matters little in the face of what I am going to show you.”
Reluctantly, Raeln entered the room and closed the door behind him. Once he had, Nenophar went to the table and pulled several of the parchments out of the various piles and turned them to face Raeln.
“Read and tell me what you think is happening in this war,” he said.
Raeln went to the table and bent over the parchments. They were in a tiny script that was difficult for him to decipher, forcing him to squint and figure out each word as he read. He tried to hurry, knowing they could be found out at any moment, but the reading was slow-going. He soon began skimming the text, trying to get a general idea of what he was looking at.
“They’re documenting troop movements on this one,” he noted, sliding one of the sheets aside. “This one is a map of the mountains, including much of the southern range. The others look to be stories about legendary battles between the founders of Lantonne and creatures of the region. Only the troop movements matter here.”
“Wrong.” Nenophar placed a map beside the list of troop movements. He pulled another sheet from the stack Raeln had skipped, judging it to be another long list of undead sightings in the region, and placed it beside the other two. “Do you not see the overlap of these?”
Raeln stared at the parchment a while before realizing one of the sheets was a record of orders sent to Lantonnian troops. The other told of where Turessian forces were spotted and predicted to be moving. Using the map, he slowly pieced together the locations and tapped four specific spots on the map, west and southwest of the city.
“A large group of undead have turned and are headed back into the mountains,” he noted, feeling truly confused. “From the looks of this, Therec dispatched part of the army to intercept them. Every soldier is mounted, so he’s trying to beat them to something. I don’t see why this is so important or worthy of sending the army outside the walls.”
Nenophar pulled out a book from the pile and opened to a page containing much of the information Raeln had seen on the parchments about legendary battles. The book looked to be the original from which the stories had been transcribed.
“Read carefully, Raeln.”
Squinting again, he searched the text for anything that stood out. He noted there were descriptions of the places where the heroes of old had fought and died. Comparing those notes to the map and some of the comments made in the troop movements, he realized they were describing some of the same places.
“The undead are looking for something in the mountains,” he said, eliciting a nod from Nenophar. “Given that these places were referenced in the storybooks, it is likely an old weapon or other magic they think will give them an advantage. The king or Therec is dispatching soldiers to try and get there first.”
“Not a small number of soldiers, either,” Nenophar added, tapping one of the parchments. “Nearly three quarters of the army is divided between two of those locations. Lantonne is undefended, if and when the undead arrive. The king has left this city to the mercy of the undead.”
“What could be so important they would risk losing the city?”
Picking up another book, Nenophar paged quickly through. Turning it toward Raeln, he pointed at the page.
Skimming the story, Raeln recognized it as one he had heard as a child, told to him and Ilarra by her mother. The fable spoke of the last stand of the great knights of early Lantonne. They rode to their deaths against the last of the old gods who had taken mortal form in the mountains. Every soldier had died, and legend spoke of great winged beasts circling the region for years. Given that the old gods were myth, Raeln had never put much thought into the stories. He wondered why Nenophar would care about them. And, more importantly, why Therec and the king cared.
“The first knights of Lantonne supposedly fought a dragon,” Raeln said, laughing in spite of an attempt not to. “Dragons don’t exist. They’re a story, like the one in this book. The thing I saw outside the city couldn’t be one of them. The old gods are a myth.”
“What if they are not? And more to the point, the first residents of Lantonne had no knights. It was a routine patrol that found the dragon. I know the original story and this one has been heavily altered.”
“Then both the Altisians and Therec’s troops are going to die horribly. I sincerely doubt that a god would join up with either side.”
Nenophar’s face went slack and his eyes sparkled as a smile spread across his lips. “Dragons are not gods,” he said firmly, poking Raeln in the chest with a rigid finger. “Mortals only seek out dragons for one reason: they wish to be the first to kill it. The idea of dragons coming to the aide of the cities of man is an unlikely one, though I would say it is what Lantonne needs if it is to survive. I have seen how many march for Altis. Throwing themselves at the walls of this city, they would crash over it like a wave. Even a dragon might fear joining this battle.”
“Assuming dragons even exist, what could motivate them to help us, and how would we convince Therec to call off his troops?”
Nenophar tapped his chin, staring absently at the books. “They will need a reason, in the same way humans need to be convinced that war is the only choice before they willingly agree to put their lives on the line. Until something unthinkable happens, they will never help. No dragon would even consider helping mortals until they truly believed that their death is a possibility. Sending these soldiers after them will wake the dragons and convince them not to enter the war, thinking it is just another foolish mortal matter, when the stakes are far higher than any could know.”
Raeln wanted to shake the man to make him say something sensible, something that did not sound like he was fantasizing about the armies being mauled by mythical creatures. The memory of the serving woman being burned t
o ash kept him from touching Nenophar. He instead waited silently until the man blinked and seemed to realize Raeln was still there.
“Did you have any luck?” Nenophar asked, picking up several of the parchment sheets. He rolled them and slid them into his jacket.
“I think so. Therec’s staff has symbols carved into the length of it, everywhere but the grip and tips. I memorized a couple, hoping Ilarra might recognize them.”
Nenophar shuffled items on the desk until he found a small ink jar and quill. Setting them in front of Raeln, he flipped over one of the parchments. “Show me.”
Raeln did as he was told, recreating two of the symbols as carefully as he could, though they did not look quite right. Each of the characters had layers of fine detail that blurred in his memory, but he hoped they were close enough.
“Yes, that would be the right staff,” Nenophar said as Raeln finished touching up the flourishes on one of the symbols. “I would recognize those words anywhere, though I wish I did not. We need to get back to Ilarra and Greth immediately and form a plan. That staff must be removed from the city before the undead arrive, and we must find a way to let them know it’s gone. Once that is done, we will destroy the staff to ensure it does not fall into unsafe hands again.”
“Does this put Ilarra in danger?”
“We were all in danger the moment Turessi took notice of us. If you are asking if we will need to do something that could get her killed, the answer is yes, but only if we cannot come up with a good plan. A bad plan will kill all four of us, along with every creature in this city and the surrounding lands. A truly bad plan might well end life as we know it on Eldvar, but that may be an exaggeration, depending on how much the Turessians have already accomplished.”
“Can you possibly say anything to give me hope?” Raeln pleaded, crumpling up the parchment with the symbols and stuffing it into a pocket of his stolen clothing.
“Of course I can,” Nenophar answered, heading toward the door. “There are dragons in the mountains.”
“Is that really something that should cheer me up?”
Nenophar looked back at him, smiling in a quirky way that made Raeln even more uneasy. “If Altis sent their troops after a dragon and it is awake, they will fail on its home terrain. We merely need to ensure the dragon is ready for them and make certain Therec recalls his own troops. The dragon will destroy the Turessian forces for us. Once matters are settled here, I will negotiate with the dragon or dragons to see if they will help us drive the undead to the edges of the world.”
Raeln sighed and let his shoulders sag. He could not see a single possible way their planning with the others was going to make him believe they could get out alive if Nenophar really thought following old fairy tales would help them stop an army. Still, he had no better plan, so he fell in behind as the man hurried from the room and into the halls, hoping they could get out of the keep without having to incinerate anyone else.
They ducked several groups of guards on their way out, finally making their way down to one of the entrances the servants used to ferry food and supplies in and out without bothering the guards at the main entrances. The servants’ doors were far more heavily reinforced than the main doors but had only a single guard present to shut and bar the door if the keep came under attack.
Nenophar peeked around the corner at the door at the far end of the empty kitchen. “My magic would be too loud, unless I can get close enough to touch him. Perhaps you should kill him instead? You may be able to get close before he realizes you are an enemy. Be sure to tear his throat out first to keep him quiet.”
Raeln glanced around the lip of the wall and saw the man near the door Nenophar had been referring to. The man sat on a stool, barely awake as he stared at the walls. Even armored, the man appeared pudgy and ill-suited to battle.
“Follow my lead and do not use any magic,” warned Raeln. “Say and do nothing but follow close.”
“Of course. Remember, his throat first.”
Raeln stared at Nenophar for a moment, trying to decide if the man was being sarcastic, but he honestly could not be sure. Giving up, he straightened up and walked around the corner, heading straight toward the guard.
Blinking and sitting up, the guard put his hand to the hilt of the sword across his lap. He watched them come closer, and then as they got within ten feet, he told Raeln, “Door’s closed for the night. No one comes in or out after dark.”
“If the regent wants breakfast, we need to get out,” Raeln said, smiling. “Someone forgot to fetch eggs. We can come back after dawn when the door’s open again and still have time, but we need to get out and pick up supplies now, or the regent will be really angry in the morning.”
“You know I’m not supposed to…”
“And how often does that get waved for the regent’s whims?” asked Raeln.
“Good point. As long as you don’t try to come back in between now and sun-up, we’re both doing our jobs. They really don’t care too much about people leaving, it’s the people coming in they want only at the front gate.”
Relaxing, the guard stuck his thumb toward the door. “I’ll bar it after you’re out,” he added.
Raeln turned slightly to smile at Nenophar, who looked entirely confused. The elf crossed his arms when he noticed Raeln watching him, hiding his hands as though he had no idea what to do with them if he was not going to hurl magical death down on the soldier.
Leading the way, Raeln thanked the guard again and proceeded out the door to the alley beyond. Once Nenophar had come through after him, the door was quickly shut, and Raeln could hear the heavy iron bar sliding back into place.
“That should not have worked,” admitted Nenophar. “That man is an idiot.”
“People believe what they want to believe, you just need to give them a reason to think you aren’t there to kill them. That and you need to not kill them. The more bodies that vanish, the more likely someone will come looking for you.”
Nenophar frowned and said nothing further on the topic, instead watching Raeln for a cue as to what they would do next.
Eyeing the alley in some attempt to figure out where he was, Raeln could not see enough of the city to determine even which side of the keep he was on. Looking up was little more help, as the dark allowed him to only see about twenty feet of the smooth wall. The alley itself was even less help, running about fifteen feet in either direction before ending in solid-looking doors attached between the keep walls and the next building over.
“Now, we walk in a random direction until we find a landmark we can use to get back to Ilarra and Greth,” he said.
Picking one of the doors at random, Raeln walked over and put his hand on the knob before stopping. A strong smell of men, metal, and leather came through the door. When he peeked through the slats, he could make out rows of beds lit by torches on either wall. Many of the beds were occupied.
“The barracks,” he explained, backing away from the door. “Definitely not our way out.”
“No less than twenty men inside. Agreed it is not the way,” noted Nenophar, wrinkling his nose.
Raeln headed back up the alley to the far end. Once there, he sniffed again, this time smelling a mix of different scents that reminded him more of the city’s streets. The door’s tightly fitted boards would not allow him to see out, so he took a deep breath and opened the door in the hopes that it was a better option than the other.
Thankfully, as the door swung open, Raeln found they stood at the edge of one of the wide main streets of Lantonne fifty feet or so from the front gates of the keep. The outside of the door had no handle, providing some degree of security to the private alley connecting the barracks and the keep.
Nodding to Nenophar, Raeln stepped into the street and began navigating toward the section of town where they had left the others behind. Given that it was already far past midnight, the streets were nearly empty, allowing the two of them to make good time back to the ramshackle building where Ilarra had ren
ted a room.
As he approached the door, Raeln slowed to listen, hearing voices inside. He had expected both Ilarra and Greth to be long-since asleep, and their conversation caught his attention simply because it was unexpected.
“…will you go once the war is over?” Ilarra was saying.
“Anywhere that’s safer than here. Sticking around with dead bodies constantly trampling you is hardly my idea of fun. The pack’s camp is long gone, so I was thinking somewhere farther south. It might take a year or more to get past the advance of the Turessians, but I’m determined I’ll find somewhere to settle down where no one wants to eat my face. If I’m going to start a relationship, it’s going to be far from any dead bodies. You’re both welcome to travel with us, but I know he probably wants to go back home, if that’s even possible anymore.”
“I’m sure he does. I’d have to ask him to be sure. He might want to stay around here, assuming the war ends.”
Raeln’s hand near the door handle shook, and he clenched it to calm himself. Thoughts of all the times Greth had mentioned the women of his pack made his stomach clench. Not once had he considered Greth might have a wife somewhere, and now he felt a little sick for having paid the man so much attention. He had hoped…he knew that things were rarely that simple. He would have to back off and let Greth live his life the way he wanted to. It was not an easy decision, but Raeln could think of no other way. He would go along with traveling wherever Ilarra wanted, even though he would have rather gone with Greth if he had his choice.
“Problem?” Nenophar asked, startling Raeln. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah. Great. I was just letting them finish a conversation.”
“Listening in is more like it, not that I object.”
Raeln glowered at the man, then wrenched the broken door open, cutting the discussion between Greth and Ilarra abruptly short. Both looked startled and guilty of something. After a second, Raeln saw Greth toss aside the fur mantle Raeln had worn on their way to the city.