Squirrel cocked its head and handed the seed out to him. Justan tried to say no thanks, but Squirrel just placed the seed in his open mouth. Justan repressed a grimace and watched as Squirrel pulled another seed out of its cheek to work on. He forced himself to chew and swallow, then returned his attention to the ride, trying not to think about it.
Justan, Deathclaw sent. I see riders.
I’m big, Deathclaw! Gwyrtha sent in excitement.
That is . . . good, Gwyrtha, Deathclaw replied.
The two of them had returned from their fruitless search for Talon a day before. The raptoid was frustrated that Talon had evaded them, but the two of them had grown much closer. Deathclaw seemed to have gotten over whatever it was about her that had bothered him before. When Justan had asked him about it all he had said was she wasn’t so different from him after all.
Come ride!
Not now. Deathclaw said patiently. Justan, they will cross our path.
What kind of riders? Justan asked.
Ten men on horses, Deathclaw replied, proud of his count.
Show them to me.
Deathclaw sent an image of the men he saw.
The men were far away, but Justan’s heart lurched. It couldn’t be. Can you get a better view?
Yes. The raptoid darted from behind the boulder where he was hiding and scampered up the short cliff face next to the trail. He moved a bit further down before laying flat against the ground and peering over the side. Now Justan could see the riders clearly.
Justan smiled, his heart pounding in excitement. Go, Gwyrtha, let’s greet them! The men would get an awful fright, but why not give them a great entrance? Fist, tell everyone that we have friends ahead.
Who is it? The ogre asked.
“My father!” Justan said and laughed out loud as tears of happiness began to stream from his eyes. He soon spotted the men traveling along the trail up above and Gwyrtha angled towards them. He could already see Faldon sitting high in his saddle, the pommel of The Monarch jutting up from his back.
The men saw them coming and shouted out in alarm. Two of them drew back arrows, and Justan tensed up, but a third man yelled something and they put their bows down. Faldon had one hand on his sword pommel but when he realized who it was, raised both fists into the air and laughed.
Gwyrtha pounded up the incline, her claws digging into the loose dirt as Justan was already mid-dismount. He leapt off before she had come to a complete stop and crashed into his father’s open arms. The two men wrapped each other in a crushing embrace.
“It’s so good to see you, son!” Faldon said.
“Father! My gosh, what are you doing here?” He held him back at arms length. “I mean I knew you weren’t at the academy, but-!”
“Look at you!” Faldon exclaimed, his eyes shining. “By the gods, son. You have grown!”
Justan realized that Faldon was right. His eyes met Faldon’s on nearly equal terms and their musculature looked almost the same. For the first time in his life they looked like father and son. “I-I’ve been through a lot, father.”
“When I saw you riding up on that-that-.”
“Her name’s Gwyrtha,” Justan said. “And she’s a sweetheart. Come say hello to my father.” Gwyrtha came up and nuzzled her huge head against him.
Faldon hesitantly patted her head.
“Scratch behind her ears. She loves that.”
Faldon shook his head as he did so. “It’s a good thing Captain Demetrius told us what to expect or we might have fired on you.”
“Captain Demetrius?” Justan looked over at the other men and smiled as the captain dismounted and walked over. He clasped hands with the man. The captain wore his full Dremald Guard armor. “So good to see you, sir. Lieutenant Jack said you were out there gathering support. I was afraid Ewzad Vriil might have caught you.”
“I was able to sneak out in the confusion following the king’s death,” The captain said. The man looked much healthier than when Justan had last seen him after weeks stuck in Vriil’s filthy dungeon. “I have gathered over three thousand men who want to fight against the dark wizard’s forces. Jack says that you are bringing the refugees from Sampo?”
“We have just under a thousand fighting men and women with us, Captain. The rest are families and children. Has my father been with you this whole time?”
“No son,” Faldon said. He had grown a bit flustered under Gwyrtha’s constant attention and shared a bewildered look with Squirrel who was sitting on Gwyrtha’s saddle. “We were uh, in the mountains on a mission when the siege started. We’ve been gathering an army of our own. We are nearly three thousand strong ourselves, mostly academy retirees and hardy mountainfolk.”
Justan was thrilled with the news even though, with their forces combined, they were still outnumbered five to one. “Amazing. So where is everyone else?”
“We’re camped just a few miles to the north. The captain and his men just joined us a day ago. We’ve been looking for the rear entrance to Wobble, but our dwarven guides can’t quite remember where it is. Lieutenant Jack told us you were coming so we decided to see if we could meet you.”
“I’m glad you did,” Justan said.
“Let me see those runes of yours,” Faldon said and Justan held out his hands. Faldon turned them over, inspecting the runes and smiled into his son’s eyes. “Son, I . . . I’m so proud of you.”
“Father . . . The naming thing just sort of happened,” Justan began.
“It’s not that,” Faldon said. “The bowl chooses who it’s going to name. I’m talking about the tales I hear of my son freeing a dungeon full of prisoners and fighting against Ewzad Vrill. I’m talking about my son who freed the men of Sampo and brought the refugees over to our cause.”
Justan felt a lump in his throat. “Thank you, father.”
Faldon clapped him on the back, then was nearly knocked over by Gwyrtha, who had nudged him just a bit too enthusiastically. “Whoa, this um, rogue horse of yours is quite affectionate.”
“She’s happy to see you. Gwyrtha has seen you so many times in my thoughts, it’s like she knows you,” Justan explained.
“Now . . . can you explain how that works for me? Your friend Zambon was a little hazy on the details.”
“Zambon’s here with you?” Justan asked.
“Yes. And Tamboor.” He smiled and added, “Jhonate is here with us as well.”
Justan’s heart thumped. Jhonate was there, just a few miles away. He could feel his face flush. He was excited and terrified at the same time.
“Uh, well uh, the way the magic works is, um.” His mouth seemed dry all the sudden. “My magic makes a permanent bond between me and someone else. It . . . connects our minds together so that we know each other’s thoughts and feelings.”
“So, you are ‘bonded’ with Gwyrtha here and also that ogre Zambon and Tamboor know?”
“Yes. His name is Fist. I’m eager for you to meet him. I think you will hit it off. And . . .” Deathclaw slid down from the cliff ledge above them and turned to face Faldon. Several of the men gasped. “This is Deathclaw. My newest bonded.”
The raptoid cocked his head and chirped as he and Faldon measured each other up. He is . . . dangerous. Deathclaw sent.
Faldon stuck out his hand and to Justan’s surprise, Deathclaw reached out and shook it. The raptoid stepped back and gave a short bow. “Sir.” Then he scampered back up the cliff face and disappeared.
“He’s . . . our scout. He was a raptoid until Ewzad Vriil used his magic to change him into what he is now,” Justan said. “He’s not very comfortable around humans yet.”
“Scout?” Faldon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He has more of the feel of an assassin to me.”
“That too,” Justan agreed.
“You say this bond is permanent?” Faldon asked. Justan nodded and Faldon shrugged. “At least he’s on our side. Shall we head on and meet the others?”
He returned to his horse.
Justan
hesitated. “Wait, uh, father. I-I don’t know how to tell you this, but . . . Tad the Cunning is dead.”
Faldon paused mid-mount. He took his foot out of the stirrup and turned back to face Justan, his face grim. “How do you know this?”
“We learned two days ago,” Justan said. He explained how Tad was found murdered and that Darlan was now mayor. “Right now mother is working with Willum to find out who the traitor is.”
“Blast it, Tad!” Faldon slammed his fist into his palm, his face twisted with rage and grief. “He told me about his suspicions before I left. I told him he was being ridiculous. Why did he have to go and get Darlan involved?”
One of the other riders dismounted and ran over to join them. Justan was surprised he had not noticed him before. “Qenzic! Good to see you!”
Qenzic, son of Sabre Vlad nodded at him. “Ju-, uh Sir Edge.” He looked to Faldon. “Sir, if Tad the Cunning is dead, my father could have had no part in it.”
“I know, Qenzic. I trust your father. I trust all those men. There has to be something else going on.” Faldon frowned. “Listen, I want you to take the men back and let the others know we found the refugees. Have everyone begin clearing a place for them to camp until we can find the entrance.”
Captain Demetrius told his own men to follow. “I’ll head on back with them. We’ll all meet back together later tonight.”
“Of course, Captain,” Faldon turned to Justan. “Come on, son. Let’s mount up and go talk to your Master Coal. I have information that you are missing and it could change everything.”
Justan climbed on Gwyrtha’s back and trotted alongside his father. At Gwyrtha’s current height, she was taller than Faldon’s horse by a good six inches. The horse was frightened to be this close to the rogue horse, but it was well trained and Faldon led it with a steady hand.
“Father, tell me. Why has mother become part of this? Coal knows something, but he won’t say. He just says that she can take care of herself.”
“That’s probably because Darlan warned him not to tell you.” Faldon’s brow furrowed in thought. “Son, your mother has a history that she isn’t proud of. I have wanted her to discuss it with you many times over the years, but she was always determined to wait until you were older. I . . . I see no reason to keep it from you now.”
“Then what is it?”
Faldon paused. “Your mother is a wizardess.”
“But . . .” Justan stared at his father for several seconds while he processed the information. How could it be? She was a mother. She cleaned. She made pies. She. . . Finally he nodded. “You know, for some reason it kind of makes sense. I mean, I should be more surprised, but it just explains so much. So many times over the years, mom just seemed to know what I was doing. Like with grandpa’s box. She always knew when I found it.”
“Wards,” Faldon said with a shake of his head. “She’s an expert at them. Darlan wanted to put her past behind and stop using magic, but she couldn’t help herself. The woman had wards strung all over the house. She had the place warded for prowlers. She had wards over your bedroom in case you got up in the night. She would even put wards on her pies so she would know if someone stole them off the windowsill.”
“But why did she want to hide her magic?” Justan asked.
“Because she was powerful. Your mother’s magic was strong in fire and earth and she had destructive spells you cannot imagine. She was a war-wizard and she was so good at it that the Mage School turned her into a dark wizard hunter. They used to send her in when a bad wizard needed to be quelled or destroyed. But she was too powerful. Sometimes she got carried away and bystanders were hurt by her magic.
“Finally she tired of it. She sat on the council for a while and even took on an apprentice, but she was always fighting with the other council members about laws and regulations at the school she disagreed with. Finally, there was an . . . incident where the council punished her apprentice and your mother quit.”
Justan’s mind reeled with the information. His mother a High Council member? “Was that before you met?”
“Well, we told you part of that story. Your mother and I met when I was out on an academy mission fighting some bandits that were harassing a small town. What you weren’t told was that your mother was with us because these bandits were run by a wizardess that had gone rogue.” Faldon said. “Your mother and I really hit it off and after she left the Mage School she came through Reneul. I met with her and after a time, I was able to convince her that a life with me meant she didn’t have to use her magic anymore. I could be the protector in the family and she could be . . . whatever she wanted. We married. Then she got pregnant with you and . . . the rest is happiness.”
“But Tad knew about her. Didn’t he?” Justan said in sudden understanding.
“Tad knew. He was part of that same academy operation. It’s one of the reasons we were all so close. But he was the only one. No one else at the academy knows and the only one at the Mage School who knows who your mother’s true identity is Valtrek. Unless he told someone, but I don’t think so.”
“So that’s why he was watching me in Reneul,” Justan said. “He was waiting to see if I had inherited her magic.”
“Yes. Darlan caught him watching you and they had words. But Valtrek was persistent and she knew that if you did have magic, you would have to go to the school anyway.”
Justan frowned. “But why didn’t anyone at the Mage School figure out who my mother was? I mean, I must have mentioned her name several times while I was there and no one batted an eye.”
“She only became Darlan Begazzi after she left the school. At the Mage School she went by Darlan Sherl, which means that most of them just knew her as Wizardess Sherl,” Faldon said. “Begazzi was her grandmother’s name.”
Justan felt a chill. He had heard the name Sherl before. One of his teachers had spoken of a spell designed by Wizardess Sherl wherein a single wizard could stand in the middle of an army and release a wave of fire and molten earth, incinerating all combatants in a hundred yards from their position. His mind went back to the night when Valtrek first showed him the potential of magic power. Valtrek had showed Justan a vision of himself using his mother’s spell. What had been the point of that?
“You should have told me,” Justan said, frowning.
“I know. It was-.”
“I went to the Mage School so angry. Father, if I had known that mother had magic, I would have understood. I would have acted so differently!”
“I’m sorry, son. You’re right. I told Darlan that you should know. I think she was just scared of how you would take it,” Faldon said.
They rode in silence for a while, both deep in thought. Then Justan sensed that they were nearly there.
“Oh, Father, you should know some things about my travel companions.” Justan told Faldon what to expect and the refugees soon came into view, following the trail that wove through the foothills. Their travel line snaked off into the distance. Master Coal rode at the head, Fist walking beside him.
Faldon whistled. “You weren’t kidding. A centaur.”
“And that’s Fist walking beside him,” Justan said.
“He has to be one of the biggest ogres I’ve ever seen and the way he stands up straight, why he walks like a man.”
“I’ve had him working on his posture,” Justan explained. “He’s had back troubles in the past and I wanted to make sure he put less stress on it.”
“Amazing,” Faldon rode up and held out his hand. “Fist, good to meet you. I’m Faldon.”
Fist reached out and shook his hand. “I am glad to meet you, Justan’s father. He has shown me so much about you. I hope to spar with you some time.”
“That would be a pleasure, Fist. Zambon told me how you tried to help Tamboor’s family. They will both be happy to see you again.”
Fist beamed. “I want to see them too. Is Tamboor . . . better?”
Faldon shook his head. “It’s hard to say. He doesn’t spea
k. But he survives. We have hope that he will return to himself some day.”
Fist nodded. “I see.” Squirrel took that moment to leap from Gwyrtha’s back to land on Fist’s shoulders and the ogre scratched behind its ears. “This is Squirrel.”
“We’ve met,” Faldon said. He turned to the centaur. “You must be Samson.”
“Yes, sir,” Samson said in surprise, not expecting to be directly addressed.
“And Master Coal,” Faldon said. “I met you briefly once; long ago when I was at the Mage School. It is good to see you again.”
Coal smiled. “I must say it is a great relief to know that you are here. Fist was telling us about the number of men you have gathered.”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 29