by H. A. Harvey
“I beg your. . .” Kolel stopped suddenly and it looked to Nian that he might have swallowed a fork sideways. At length, he spoke again, a touch of confidence markedly missing from his voice, “I’m sure this Wizard Malor has a sense of humor.”
“Not really.” Axios snickered and leaned the sword and himself back against the wall, still eyeing them with his one good eye.
The three stood in silence for the next minute or so. Nian noted that their little patch of ground seemed to be the eye of the storm raging through the camp. In their rapid-paced courses to and fro among the buildings inside the fort, everyone seemed to steer well clear of the keep entrance. He guessed that the ogre, and the wizard who customarily sat at the table before him, would deter most casual passers-by without good cause to approach the keep. Finally, Malor returned through the door. Kolel immediately piped up in his most diplomatic tone.
“Master Malor! So very glad that you are returned to us quickly. I wanted t-“
“Earl Cirrus will see you, briefly.” Malor cut him off coolly, “Follow the stairs on the far side of the hall up to the earl’s chambers. Do not waste the earl’s time. Be about your business and be gone, we are in the midst of preparations.”
Malor stood to the side, holding the door open expectantly. It seemed to Nian that Kolel debated the wisdom of resuming his reconciliation, but thought better of it and doffed his hat as he hurried past the wizard into the keep. Nian nodded to Axios and Malor in what he hoped was a respectful manner before following.
Inside, the keep was somewhat dimmer than outside. Only a few high windows at each end of the room let indirect sunlight filter through the thick walls. Along the interior walls, a few sconced torches kept shadows at bay around a long table, designed to seat at least two score guests. Each interior wall held two doors facing their opposing twin, and matching stairs to either side of the hall wound their way up the far corners to a landing above. At Kolel’s beckon, the two started along the length of the table toward the stairs.
Just before the two passed the second door along the wall, it opened and a girl stepped through, pulling up short as she noticed strangers in her path. The girl seemed to be a Nian’s junior by a year or more, though she stood tall enough to be at least his height, if not a few fingers taller. Her features were sharp, almost hawk-like with dark eyes that pierced them both, bringing them to a stuttering halt. What Nian at first thought to be short-cropped hair he saw to be small feathers of white running in place of where he would expect hair to flow. Her hood of feathers seemed to flow down to meet a long cowl of pristine white feathers draped about her shoulders and setting off her straight satin gown of deep blue in stark contrast. It wasn’t until the cowl seemed to shift of its own accord that he realized them to be wings, folded neatly to move through the doorway.
“Hello.” The girl blinked at them.
“Ah, hello.” Nian nodded and went to circle around her but was brought up short as Kolel caught his arm, his other sweeping the Sattal’s hat around in an elegant bow.
“Good day, ladyship.” Kolel began in his most eloquent manner, “I am Kolel of Ilien, and my energetic friend here is Nian . . . of Longmyst. I beg that you forgive my friend. He is . . . a bit rustic and focused upon his task, which at the moment is to speak with the earl.”
The girl curtsied slightly and smiled, “Quite alright, we are all a bit rustic out here. My name is Ourei. I have been to Longmyst, a lovely town.”
“I don’t think so.” Nian tilted his head, “I am sure I’d remember if you came through town, and I’m always there. . .stop it!” Nian brushed off Kolel’s arm as his elbow jabbed the boy’s ribs.
“I suppose it would have been more accurate to say I’ve seen it. I remember passing by on a flight to visit Highkeep with my father. It was very picturesque, I especially liked the old tree by the falls.”
Nian couldn’t help but smile, “That’s my favorite spot. Ah, wait, your father?”
“The earl.” Ourei nodded slightly, “He is a Falon windlord. I’m half by blood, but I have his stamina, so we often go together when he visits his allies. You are on your way to see him?”
“Yes indeed.” Kolel chimed in, “In fact, I am loathe to beg your leave, but we have instructions not to tarry.”
“Of course,” Ourei nodded again, this time stepping back a bit into the doorway to leave them both room to pass together. “I wish you luck, but take care. Father tends to become focused on his projects, and is easy to irritate. Oh, and take the stair to the right, the other door tends to stick.”
“We shall interrupt as little as possible, m’lady.” Kolel gave another elegant bow, accompanied a moment later by Nian’s best attempt at one. “And thank you for your advice.”
As Nian hurried on toward the stairs with Kolel, he ventured a glance over his shoulder. Ourei stood watching them quiet, motionless as a statue. Her keen gaze caught Nian’s and she smiled. He quickly righted his gaze, feeling as though he’d been caught at some scandalous activity.
“Rule one when in court, Nian my friend.” Kolel muttered as they made their way up the stair. “Never shoulder past a lady, especially if she does not drop her gaze, it means she’s important, probably more than you.”
“I didn’t shoulder past, I stepped around.”
“Very well, that was rule two, rule one is now no technicalities until you know all the rules.”
“How many rules are there?”
“Quite a few. For now, the third rule is, do not contradict a lady. Especially if the contradiction is meaningless and she gave you a compliment in the process. Also, lower your voice.”
“What? Why?”
“Because, if Lady Ourei inherited more than her father’s wings, she can probably still hear you.”
“Oh.” Nian whispered, then was silent the rest of the way up the stair.
As they approached the top of the stair, Nian became aware of a rhythmic pulsing sound. It was deep and powerful, and reminded him of the sound of old Cobb’s mill in Longmyst.
“Falon Windlords,” Kolel explained, seeing Nian’s puzzlement. “They are a rare breed among Falon. They fly even in their sleep from the moment they are born. It’s rare that one touches the ground, usually as a formality or when they need to pass through smaller doorways.”
Kolel reached up to the door and gave a soft rap. After a moment a gruff voice came from the far side of the heavy door.
“Enter.”
Kolel lifted the heavy latch on the door and pulled it open. He nodded to Nian, letting him step through first before following. Once through, Nian found himself upon a covered patio that encompassed the rear half of the roof. The patio had walls set out around it, a few feet from the end of the actual roof, creating a large enclosure that was screened from view to the side, but one could easily move out and to a side to be outdoors, or even fly up, Nian supposed. At the center of the patio was a large table, spread with scrolls and a few books, beside which floated a tall figure, a full seven feet in height if he was an inch, garbed in a golden tunic and a dark blue tabard emblazoned with a golden emblem of an oak tree. His skin was a shade lighter than Ourei’s, while his spread wings and head plumage were a light brown mottled with black spots. The windlord’s features showed that his sharp features and piercing dark eyes had been bequeathed to his daughter. Those disturbing eyes impaled the pair of travelers as they stepped through onto the patio.
“What news do you have from the border?” The earl’s voice was rough and resonant, seeming to carry without any effort on his part. There was a rhythm behind his words, as though his lungs worked in time with the beat of each wing.
“Ah yes, milord,” Kolel stated eloquently as he started a bow, “I am Kolel of Il-“
“I did not ask for introductions.” Earl Cirrus cut the Sattal off sharply, “You claim to have news form the front. If that is the case, I have a few
moments to weigh if they will affect the next few days. If not, then I do not have time to banter words with every passerby.”
“Slavers.” Nian chimed in rather abruptly. He had become accustomed to Kolel’s overly courteous speech, and didn’t like seeing him treated so curtly, even if this windlord somehow outranked him. “A company of slavers crossed your land and attacked Longmyst, my home. We tracked them to the Lone Wood and they are even now crossing back through your land with their wagon of captives.”
“Longmyst is under Duke Korrigan in Highkeep. Why bring this to my table?”
“Highkeep was two days ride in the wrong direction from Longmyst, Earl.” Nian found himself drawing from the many conversations he’d overheard in the tavern. “And by the time we reached the Duke, any pursuers would have no chance of catching them in time and his men would have to come here anyway to cross your land. More than that, my friend Kolel here mentioned that, as it is your task to patrol the border, you might appreciate an opportunity to punish the raiders who slipped past your men to attack the Duke’s land.”
The earl and Kolel both were staring at Nian. He didn’t blame them, if he had an extra pair of eyes, he’d be staring at himself too. He was not certain what had come over him, except that he was frustrated at all the waiting on formalities, only to have the earl cut his friend short on his own.
“Boldly stated,” the earl arched an eyebrow at Nian, “Especially for what looks to be a farmer’s son. So your village sent you to represent their interests?”
“No, I was sent by Ka-AH!” Nian cut off short as Kolel’s hard boot heel found his toes.
“Karen, is the boy’s sister, your lordship.” Kolel bowed again as he spoke, “I’m afraid he is a bit possessed of his quest to rescue her. You see, she was among the victims of the raid. Please forgive audacity born of youth and passion. We had hoped to avail of you to send out a patrol of guards.”
The earl frowned and regarded the largest of the tomes upon his table, “How many slavers attacked?”
“It was a night raid, sire, but our count was at least thirty men.” Kolel replied. “Perhaps a few more, as a wagon was reported waiting outside of town, but not more than two score for certain.”
The windlord drew a scroll from the bound pile and unrolled a map of the wood’s edge and surrounding area. After weighing it down from his own constant wing-beats, he beckoned the Sattal over. “Where did they enter the wood, and how long ago?”
Kolel stepped between the earl and the map, the heavy downbeat of the Falon’s wings swishing the merchant’s riding cape about awkwardly. “Ah, here I believe. If the number of hills and curve of the treeline is accurate, that looks to be the spot. The track was roughly a day old where we left it at Phoenix Down last night, so less than two days.”
Cirrus regarded the map for a moment, “No. I’m sorry but I cannot spare the men. So many brigands would take a company of fifty men to guarantee victory, and more to ensure those men could be fit afterward to catch up. We are marching on the morrow.”
“You can’t just say no!” Nian erupted, “We came this far out of our way because it’s your job to stop them! It was your job to stop them before they burned my home!”
“Enough!” The windlord drifted forward to hover before Nian, whose lip still trembled with rage and frustration. “I respect that you are upset about your kin, which is commendable and the only reason I tolerate your insolence. However, my duties are broader than you seem to understand. I cannot spare the men to chase your slavers. You can take solace though, as where we are marching is likely where yours villagers will be taken, so they will not long be captive. Now, if you two will be kind enough to show yourselves out, I have preparations to see to.”
Kolel rejoined Nian, clapping a paw over the boy’s mouth in time to cut off another sharp retort. “Of course, lordship. A thousand pardons for wasting your time.” He backed out the door, very nearly dragging Nian with him. Back inside, the boy shook Kolel’s arm off violently and stalked halfway down the stair before speaking.
“Why didn’t you help? You’re all smooth talking all day long and when it counts you can’t say one thing to help convince him to spare even a few men?”
“Nian, there is a war about to erupt here. The earl has likely invested his personal fortune and then some in whatever venture he is about to undertake. . .we aren’t going to convince him to do anything he thinks will risk failure. We’d best be out of town before he decides to add conscripting non-locals.”
“And why did you stop me from telling him Kadia sent me? You yourself said that no one will stand in the way of an Incarnate’s will. He would have-“
“You have no idea what he might have done.” Kolel interrupted as politely as he could manage, “Nian, men in positions of power view the world very differently than you or I, and it is my experience that most in such positions are questionable at best when it comes to matters of belief. More than that, my friend, whether or not he believed it himself, a man about to launch to war would want to use you as a symbol for his own cause.”
“You have actually spoken to Kadia?” A soft voice inserted itself before Nian could muster his next protest. The two froze on the last step before the tiled floor of the main hall. Across the room, descending from the midpoint of the opposing stair was Ourei.
Nian swallowed, the jig was up, so he decided to dive in if he was going to get wet. “More than, she carried me from the raid, and bandaged my head with her dress.” He lifted the hair on the side of his head to show his cut. Ourei strode, out over the space between the stairs, but spread her wings in the briefest flutter that brought her down to stand upon the tiles before them, making Nian just a hair taller than her from his perch on the stair. She stared at him with rapt fascination, reaching forth with a slender set of delicate fingers as though to touch the wound. She paused at a hairs breadth and blinked, pulling back very slightly.
“Ah, may I?” She asked heasitantly.
“I guesso.” Nian nodded slightly. “I mean yes, your ladyship.”
“Ourei is fine.” Ourei’s soft, noble bearing broke for a moment as she giggled, then reached forward to gingerly run her fingers along the patch of missing hair. Nian turned a deep shade of red, but held still. Even if he had wanted to, he doubted seriously if he could have stirred a muscle. A soft, intoxicating aroma drifted from the girl, reminding him of a spring breeze through a field of flowers and leaving him totally entranced. Despite his distraction at having Ourei’s fingers in his hair, two unexpected oddities stood out to him.
First was that it didn’t hurt when she touched his wound. He had expected a stab of pain from the still-mending cut. Instead, he felt her fingertips brush along smooth skin. The second thing was how silent Kolel was in all this. Venturing a glance at the little merchant, he saw the Sattal looking on with a puzzled and, it seemed to Nian, disapproving look on his face.
“My uncle told me stories of Kadia when I was little. She is very important to the Windlords, second only to Phoenix.” Ourei spoke in a soft, almost reverent whisper, “She is the light in darkness, and it is for her the stars shine. But your friend is right, if my father knew, he would have you at the front of his troops, bound if he had to.”
Ourei continued to pet, almost caress, Nian’s wound as she spoke. The whole encounter was so unnerving to him that he couldn’t manage to think of a reply beyond a rather feeble shrug. For his own part, Kolel kept silent, though an odd twinkle of thought was in his eyes now. At length, Ourei withdrew her hand, touching it briefly to her cheek before she unfolded her wings slightly and fidgeted at a fine silver chain about her slender waist. She unbound a small satin purse of the same hue as her gown, tied with pristine white cord and darned with silver tassels. She pressed it into Nian’s hand with both of her own.
“I listened through the door. You must reach your sister. The regular troops are already bound to my father, but
most of the mercenaries will not be paid until after the first battle. Take this and try to find some that seem trustworthy and skilled. It won’t buy you fifty men, but with Hope, it will get enough. When you are ready, Malor will speed you on your way. Tell him I insist.”
Nian shook his head and started to protest, but Kolel finally resolved whatever had been rolling about in his head. Clapping a hand upon the boy’s shoulder he cleared his throat.
“Rule four, my boy. Never insult a lady by refusing a gift. Now repeat after me: Thank you, fair lady.”
Nian blinked before he managed to stammer, “Ah, t-thank you I guess, fair lady.”
“No improvising.” Kolel chided as Ourei looked on blankly, though the hint of a smile curled at the corners of her mouth. “Your generosity exceeds all but your beauty.”
Nian laughed, “Not even close.” And it was Ourei’s turn to blush.
“Impossible.” Kolel muttered before he bowed deeply before tugging Nian along, “A thousand blessings on your house, lady, and farewell.”
Nian offered no resistance as Kolel tugged him along to the exit. He did, however, venture a glance back at their unexpected benefactor, who stood where they had left her at the base of the twin stairs. Ourei must have seen him glance back even in the dim light, for she gave a small wave before the front door opened, blinding him with light from the day outside.
“She smelled like flowers. . .” Nian whispered to Kolel as they reached the doorway. For his part, the Sattal scoffed softly and shoved his friend out the door. In the street, Kolel paused to don his hat and right his cape. Once he was satisfied that he was again presentable, he turned to Nian, who still stood looking back through the door.
“That was. . .wierd.” Nian mumbled.
“One word for it, my friend. The other is foolish. Oh, and the scent of flowers was perfume, or perhaps scented oils.” Kolel nabbed the purse that Nian still held in his open hand and jammed it into the pocket of the boy’s trousers. “Put that away, and let us find your friend Rowan. Then we can go about the business of finding mercenaries that won’t simply slit our throats a mile down the road and come back to get paid twice.”