“Stand your ground! What brings so many riders to the doors of Rindor this night?”
Kael glanced through an open window and saw other uniformed soldiers throw gaming cards down on a table, clutch similar tridents and scramble to the post’s doorway. Several soldiers burst through the door at once and took up position behind the spokesman. All of them nervously fidgeted with their weapons.
Ader edged his huge stallion to the front of the group and a look of compassion and understanding spread across his face. At first, the soldiers appeared uneasy about the presence of Tarader. However, once the old man spoke, their tension melted away. His voice was steady, calm and reassuring.
“I will wager your day is a long one?” smiled the Seraph. “Mine feels like an eternity. The open road treats old bones poorly.”
Ader rubbed the small of his back as he hunched over.
“Aye, it is a long and tiring day,” returned the spokesman. “Many folk travel the road.”
“A sign of troubled times,” sighed Ader. “People uprooted. Armies forming. Men called to battle. What are simple folk like you and I to do?”
Kael watched the spokesman and others in his group turn to one another and acknowledge their agreement with the old man.
“Tis true. We were just discussing the troubles over a game in yon house,” said the spokesman pointing to the guard post.
“Most assuredly Rindor will find herself embroiled in the troubles, as all great nations do,” said Ader shaking his head sadly. “And you poor gentlemen will find yourselves as embroiled as your homeland.”
“You may be right sir, you may be right,” nodded the spokesman.
The others in the group shook their heads in agreement. That’s when Kael felt it. A tingle on his neck. The slightest raise of the hairs on his arms. A breeze of power misting over him. He calmed himself, closed his eyes and focused.
The boy became aware. Aware of the stream of power gently flowing from the old man. Unlike Ader’s display in the Nagur Wood, this use of his power was subtle, invisible. It washed out over the Rindoran soldier and the group arrayed about him. It delicately pushed and prodded their feelings.
“An old man shouldn’t be out on the road at night, but the command of my crown forces me,“ frowned Ader. “I’m loyal to my king and must obey. We are called to Zodra and to Zodra we must go.”
“Yes, the life of a soldier is hard,” agreed the spokesman narrowing his eyes at the group. “But we are honor bound to our duty. You arrive at Rindor at a late hour, in force and heavily armed. I cannot allow you to enter the city.”
Ader’s arm swept across his traveling companions.
“You call this ragged group a force,” smiled the old man. “This collection threw itself together on the open road in order to protect itself. An intelligent man such as yourself surely understands the logic in that.”
Kael felt the power from Ader intensify and flow out over the group. An even greater feeling of calm swept over him. He felt genuinely good about the situation they were in. These men were their friends and caused them no harm. All was fine here.
“This is true,” nodded the spokesman smiling. “Tis foolish to travel the open road alone.”
“Caylit, there is no threat with these travelers,” called a soldier from behind the spokesman. “Let these good fellows be on their way and we’ll return to our game.”
The spokesman shook his head and cleared his mind. The smile quickly faded from his face with the challenge to his authority. He eyed the travelers once more.
“I’ve a want to allow you to pass, but the odd nature of your group calls me to question myself. How comes an old man, two young boys, a man with the look of a hardened veteran, a pair of Elves, and a ...” the head guard halted.
He edged forward toward Ader and scrutinized Granu. The Keltaran giant stood at the back of the group hunching down behind Eidyn’s stallion. Kael was amazed at how such a big man made himself so unnoticed.
As the guard slowly moved past Ader the old man raised his hand slowly.
“My nephew, a bit slow,” said Ader touching a finger to the side of his head. “I was saddled with the poor boy after his parents perished from the red fever years ago. He has no caretaker. I can leave him with no one as I ride to war. As you see, he is a man of no small measure, but as gentle as a kitten. I’m afraid I will lose him on the battlefield.”
A wave of empathy swept over Kael. He almost believed Ader’s story himself and was overwhelmed with sympathy and sorrow for the plight of this old man and his addled nephew. Surely the boy would be lost on the northern battlefields. The spokesman frowned and nodded at Granu.
“A sad state. Avra challenges us all in our own way,” frowned the guard.
“Yes, he does. Perhaps Rindor will be the last place he sleeps in a warm bed and eats a decent meal. We are to be sent to the battlefields immediately,” said Ader.
“A soldier’s life is hard,” mumbled the guard seeming to come to a decision. “The least we can do as an ally of the crown is to provide that last meal and bed to the troops who protect us with their lives.”
“Here! Here!” came a few calls from the group arrayed behind him.
“You may pass,” stated the head guard. “Foran! Signal the gatekeeper.”
One of the guards ran to the post and removed a lit candle. A small, wooden deck on the back of the guardhouse faced the river. The soldier strode over to a series of posts set into a rail. He touched the candle to the top of seven posts. The heads immediately sputtered and caught fire. Seven torches guttered in the night.
“We must wait for acknowledgment,” said the guard.
Kael searched through the darkness across the river to where he assumed the bridge ended. After a short wait, the boy saw a light appear in the distance. A lone torch was lit in reply.
“Go now and find rest and comfort in the citadel of Rindor, my friends,” said the guard. “If you stay to the right as you enter the city, you will come shortly to ‘The Singing Mermaid’. Tell them Caylit sent you there. Tis an excellent establishment if I do say so.”
“He must,” added a soldier behind the head guard. “His father-in-law owns it.”
Caylit scowled, then clapped the fellow on the back and laughed as they turned to reenter the guard post.
“Fare thee well, old man. May Avra smile on you,” called Caylit over his shoulder.
“Oh, I can assure you He does,” whispered Ader to himself.
CHAPTER 22: BRIDGE TENDER, GATEKEEPER
The group moved out onto the bridge and began their journey over the Ituan River. The horses’ hooves sounded out the pace on the heavy timbers forming the causeway. Kael stared in amazement at the structure beneath his feet. He estimated its distance at three hundred yards or more. Rolling black water surged and swirled below them, pounding the stone moorings of the bridge. However, Kael felt none of this assault as he trotted above the torrent on his sturdy mount. It was as if he were riding on solid ground, not a bridge. The structure stretched to a width of at least five yards. Several members of the group rode abreast with plenty of room to move. Fish jumped in the river below and Kael noted several small boats moving in and out of its currents.
“The fishermen find better luck in the evening, and the catch is fresher for the morning market,” commented Manfir from off to Kael’s right.
Kael turned to see the Zodrian prince smiling and looking down to the waters below.
“What is it they fish for?” asked Kael.
“Oh, mostly river cat and some pike,” smiled the prince. “But the good ones luck into an occasional urgron. They are the prize.”
The comment caught Eidyn’s attention and he peered over into the water below.
“Urgron? What are they?” asked Kael.
“A rare delicacy,” answered Eidyn. “The lords and ladies of the Rindoran court pay a pretty price for an urgron. Especially one that is in season.”
“In season?” questioned Flair.
“The fish is a delicacy in its own right,” replied Manfir with a twinkle in his eye. “But the true delicacy are the eggs a female lays. They are prized by the nobles.”
The Zodrian warrior eyed the swirling currents and eddies of the water below them.
“What do they do with the eggs?” asked Flair.
“Why, eat them of course!” exclaimed Teeg.
“Ugh!” replied Flair contorting his face in disgust.
The group chuckled.
“What do they taste like?” Kael asked Manfir.
“Oh, I’ve never tasted them,” answered the big man.
“I just thought you, um, you were staring at the river and I thought ..” started Kael.
“Fish eggs, Kael?” laughed Manfir. “I agree with my good man Flair. Ugh! A nice game hen, or mutton leg are my fare. But fish eggs?”
The entire group chuckled once more as Manfir continued.
“No, the true treasure of the Urgron is not in eating it. The true treasure lies in catching it,” said Manfir dreamily. “You truly don’t know happiness until you stand silently on the banks of the river in the summer moonlight, casting a line for the Urgron.”
“Why is that?” asked Flair.
Manfir smiled at the boy.
“Solitude.”
“Pardon?” replied Flair.
“Solitude. Sweet solitude. Just you and the Urgron. If your lucky, maybe just you for awhile.”
“I don’t understand,” said Kael. “You want to catch it, don’t you?”
“Eventually, I suppose,” smiled Manfir. “But the true pleasure of fishing is the silence. The chance to let the worries of the world wash away down the river and leave you for awhile. Escape. Let the water calm you, and your thoughts escape to your dreams.”
Kael saw the head of an otter poke above the midnight surface of the river. The animal chirped a call and splashed back under the flow. As Kael stared at the water he understood what Manfir meant. The constant roll of the river soothed him. He desired nothing more than to stand on the edge of the bridge and rest, watching the river slide away underneath him.
“State your business for the record book.”
A hunched old man stood fingering through the pages of a leather-bound, raggedy old book. The book lay on an easel set just to the right of the massive gates of Rindor. A torch guttered in a wrought iron holder set into the granite of the city walls. The light from the torch played across the book and illuminated the ink stained hands of the old man as he frantically tried to turn it to the proper page. His wrinkled face was framed by wiry white whiskers both above and below. He screwed his face into a sour expression and spit a mass of chewing juice on the decking at his feet.
“Darn pages keep sticking together,” mumbled the old man glaring at the book.
“Is there really a need for that Gency, old boy?” asked Teeg.
The old man squinted in the failing light at the riders in front of him. He grabbed the torch from the wall and walked amongst the riders. As Gency approached Teeg, the Elf smiled pleasantly to him. The bridge tender’s eyes widened and he quickly glanced at the rest of the group then to the gates. When he was satisfied no other Rindorans were present he turned back to Teeg.
“Why, uh Master Elf, how is it you know my name?” stammered the old man pathetically, as he eyed Kael and Flair.
“Gency, please,” pleaded Ader. ‘We are tired and hungry. I will come to the gates tomorrow and we shall talk. The lads in this group are fine. Everyone knows everyone else. Just open the gate and let me get to a bed.”
The old bridge tender fidgeted and frowned in exasperation.
“Well how am I to know who is one of us and who is not?” grumbled Gency to himself as he turned and shuffled to the gate.
The torch spilled its light onto a small hole cut in the gates facade. The hole sat three yards above the decking of the bridge and a light chain ran through it. On the end of the chain was affixed an iron ring. Gency tugged hard on the ring. A bell sounded hollowly as Gency muttered to himself some more. The group waited. Nothing. Gency frowned deeply then tugged on the chain once more. The bell rang again.
“Weneth ya old fool! Open the forsaken door!” shouted Gency.
Ader turned to Teeg and a smile played between them. Gency stood nearest to Kael and turned with an exasperated expression.
“The old fool has got the easy part of the job. Just open the gate when I ring. That’s all! I’m the one that sits out here in the rain and snow, freezing to the bone some nights. Its enough ta ....”
A loud “clank” sounded within the gate and it slowly creaked inward.
“Now if ya want me to take the outside agin, all ya has ta do is ask. I never asked ta come inside,” said Weneth as the gate swung wide open. “I’m not used to the darkness inside the walls. It lulls me ta sleep. I was used ta the moonlight and the rushing of the river. Now its just silence and darkness. Good evenin’ Master Ader.”
Ader nodded at an old man almost identical to Gency, who slowly pushed the gate to the wall.
“Evening Weneth. How are the bones?” said Ader as he edged Tarader into the city.
“Not so bad,” replied the old man as he continued. “Never wanted to come inside. Never asked to come inside. I like the wind on my face and watchin’ my river roll by. The bones weren’t so bad.”
The old gatekeeper stopped for a moment as the troop passed. He glanced at Manfir and lightly bowed.
“How goes the fishin’ my boy?” asked Weneth.
“Eh?” said Gency squinting at Manfir. “Oh! How are you my boy? Didn’t recognize ya.”
“My bones may have gone brittle in the rain and snow,” laughed Weneth turning on Gency, “but you’ve lost your eyes years ago, reading all night in the darkness with naught but a wee candle.”
Gency frowned at his brother.
“I haven’t cast a line in the water for years, my friend,” smiled Manfir to Weneth. “One day soon I hope to. When that day comes, you must teach your brother about our arrangement. Even with his failing eyesight I’m sure we could become profitable again.”
“I’m sure I’m fully aware of yur arrangement. Don’t ya remember who let ya out every evening?” said Gency in mock disappointment.
“Then a fifty-fifty split is still acceptable?” smiled Manfir as the group moved into the city leaving the brothers at the gate.
“Fifty-fifty?” shouted Gency at his brother as Ader and the group moved down the street to the cities interior. “You told me it was sixty-forty all those years ago. You old cheat!”
“I told you it was sixty-forty and did not lie,” Kael heard Weneth laugh. “I just didn’t tell you who got the sixty and who got the forty!”
The group rounded a bend in the city street and the old men disappeared from view, their argument faintly heard in the night air.
The street before the group looked like a canyon. Buildings rose straight up on either side. Dozens and dozens of feet above their heads, rooftop met rooftop and tower joined to tower to form the canopy of this massive block of stonework. Here and there where the moon’s glow reached through the maze of rooftops, it splashed its light on the mist-dampened cobblestones of the river city. The horses’ hooves echoed down this canyon of granite and the group headed through the city.
“What was that all about?” Kael asked Manfir.
“When I was a lad,” smiled Manfir. “I used to love to go down to the river and watch the fishermen. Often, I wandered up and down the river for hours. Sometimes I threw a line in the water and sometimes just explored. My mother grew worried by my long absences. When she discovered what I was doing, she forbade it. I was but a lad and the prince heir to the throne of Zodra. She feared for me. Exposing myself to the rough and tumble world down by the wharves was not the way a young prince should occupy his time.
“So, as any inquisitive boy might, I grew more determined by her refusals. At night, I slipped from my quarters and came to the gate. Wenet
h and Gency were younger then. They both held a soft spot for a boy looking to do mischief. I stole through the gate and fished the night river.”
“What deal were you referring to?” asked Flair.
“I never truly discovered the habits of the Urgron,” said Manfir. “At first I played at fishing. However, after reeling in a few nice specimens of pike, I quickly developed a passion for it. I was bound and determined to catch an Urgron but they eluded me. They are intelligent, solitary creatures. Hard to pin down. They move throughout the river where they please. They are the royalty of the currents. No predators but man.
“Often you think you hook one, only to find it steal your bait. Extremely frustrating. After months with no luck, I grew bitter. As I trod across the bridge after one particularly frustrating evening, I noticed Weneth staring at me with a silly grin.”
‘What is so humorous?’ said I.
‘You, young prince,’ said Weneth.
‘How so?’ said I, furrowing my brow.
‘I have never seen a lad take such displeasure in his mischief,’ laughed Weneth. ‘I wonder how the kingdom will fare under such a serious, driven ruler? Catching the fish is but a small portion of the pleasure of fishing. Standing amongst the beauty and majesty of Avra’s creation is the true joy. Watching the waves roll by and feeling the wind on your face. Hearing the call of the nighthawk and the hoot of the great owl. Watching the moon drift from horizon to horizon. These are the pleasures of fishing.’
I lowered my head and considered his words. He was right, but I was as determined as ever. Weneth laughed and added.
‘But it would be nice to catch a fish now and again.’
We both smiled as the night watchman patted me on the back.
‘I might help you in that department, my young prince,’ said Weneth. ‘Answer a question. What is my job?’
‘You’re the night watchman of the citadel’s bridge,’ said I in confusion. ‘The bridge tender.’
The Merchant and the Menace Page 30