Overland Quest

by D C Ware

  Bonelord dismissed the questions whenever they were asked of him directly and ignored them the rest of the time. Ever since the king had set his most trusted knights on this course it was agreed that the rumors of his death would be allowed to spread. That the Third Knight Swift would even lend credence to them by carrying word of the king’s death himself.

  However it was always assumed that they would remain ‘rumors’. That most of the kingdom would hear about them and dismiss them as rumors. It was only the high and well positioned in the kingdom that the king sought to lure into acting. That he wanted to start to show their hands. Then at the right time he would reveal himself to those who had proven loyal. And crush the rest!

  But the fire had changed all of that. Now the rumor was spreading like wildfire of its own volition and among the common people. The King would either have to reveal himself and quell the rumors soon or their would be an active cry for a new king.

  Bonelord had a decree from the king proclaiming that in the event of his death The First Knight should serve as Lord Protector of the realm until a legitimate heir had come forth. And that was the only thing preserving his authority at the moment. No ‘legitimate heir’ had come forth. The king’s only recognized son was not a ‘legitimate’ heir having been born to a woman from the Southern Kingdom of Bozz, a sworn enemy of the Men of the North in The Joint Kingdoms and of The Overland.

  But there were rumors of other children. Other sons who could claim the throne legitimately. So far none of them had come forth or attempted to reveal themselves. No doubt because they or their advisers were wise enough not to act on the initial rumors. It would not be the first time a king had used such a ruse to lure out undesired claimants to the throne, discredit them and then sentence them to death.

  Bonelord was certain however that the fire would change that. That is why he was certain that the fire had been intentionally set. That was also why he had to find the person who set it. He was convinced Morcai was behind the attack but he needed to know if Morcai had a puppet, and an heir, that he intended to put on the throne when the clamor of the crowds could not be contained any longer.

  “Lord Protector, I have been told to inform you that Father Wilmont and The Abbot are ready to inspect the body with you.” The Sergeant At Arms saluted as he completed his sentence.

  “Body? What body?” Bonelord was caught off guard and in the middle of his thoughts when the Sergeant’s deep voice startled him.

  “The body of the boy found by the postern gate, my lord. He was killed but not by the fire. Lord Nessleton and The Church suspect foul play and have been holding the body under guard until your duties allowed you to inspect it with them.”

  “Yes, Folsun; I remember now. Where are they holding it at?” Bonelord stood.

  “In the castle priory, the chapel, my lord.”

  “Good, that’s close. Come with me I wish for you to accompany me.”

  “As you desire my lord.”

  The two men emerged from a chamber with an arched entrance adjoining five other arches. They stepped out onto an elevated walkway raised on two large, stonework arches. The floor was sandstone with concentric brickwork consisting of two large circles. Above them and to their right was a suspended staircase that led up to a round gazebo suspended between two large arched windows for viewing. Below them were the castle grounds.

  They reached the base of the walkway and were met by Lord Nessleton.

  “Marcus? I was just coming to fetch you. The Abbot and Father Wilmont are already at the chapel.” Nessleton said addressing The Lord Protector by his first name.

  “Good to see you Roger. Walk with us.”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  “I appreciate your help over the last two days Roger. Normally, I would have sent for Swift or Horatio to assist me in the aftermath of such an attack but your presence here allowed me to dispense with that.”

  “Good of you to say that Marcus. But you know I am not a knight. I have always preferred the bow. Me and the men who follow me.”

  “Even so, you were of help.” Bonelord stopped and gripped Nessleton by his arm and looked him directly in the eye, “and I fear I may need your help again very soon, Roger. Is that ok with you?”

  Nessleton became serious. Sensing the weight of the responsibilities on Bonelord’s shoulders.

  “Of course Marcus. The Men of the Camp will do their part whatever it may be.”

  “Good.”

  Bonelord finished speaking just as they arrived at the door of the chapel. Outside the door two monk’s from the monastery were standing guard to the entrance.

  Nessleton approached one of them - a female.

  “Mya this is the Lord Protector, The First Knight of the Land; he who is called Bonelord. Are The Abbot and Father Wilmont inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has the body been prepared?”

  “As much as we could Lord Nessleton. We applied what the herbs and salves we brought with us for such preparations, to the body and laid it upon a slab of ice. But the last of the ice melted this morning and the Seneschal has said that another delivery from Igloo is not expected until the weekend. The Father and The Abbot have also used some minor wards to preserve it since then.”

  “Very well,” Nessleton looked at Bonelord. “It’s been four days. You may want to have your kerchief at hand my lord.”

  “That won’t be necessary Roger, let us proceed.”

  “The Sons of Cain! Traveling in the company of The Lady?” Horatio needed to make sure Sir DavenPo was sure.

  “Led by the ‘excommunicant’ no less. Horatio.” DavenPo said, referring to their leader, Friar Damian.

  “Did you see The Lady.”

  “No. We were set on by the Oathbreaker and what men he had at his disposal. Just as we were preparing to dispatch the last of them the Friar arrived with about fifty of the Sons.”

  “Fifty. Led by Heymann Oathbreaker and the ‘excommunicant’. We must meet them. To let them roam about the land unchecked would be a scourge upon the land that even the king could not have anticipated when he set this ruse in motion. No less The Lady.”

  “Do you intend to muster your entire host then Horatio?”

  “I do Tristan. And I will need your men by my side. The Sons of Cain are a dark host indeed. I fought them once toward the end of the Crimson Wars. Even wounded and crippled, with severed limbs, they would not yield or ask for quarter.”

  “Well you have my sword as always. Though I must tell you there is one who fights with the Oathbreaker; his lieutenant I believe, who wields a terrible sword as well. He accounted for half our dead alone.”

  “Sir Dubois. I have heard of him. A knight from The Joint Kingdoms. Nephew of Raymond Dubois, Commander of the Forces of Tel. Formerly of the Order of the Men of Blood.”

  “The Men of Blood. That explains it. He certainly did his order justice that day.”

  “Be that as it may Tristan we must meet them. Gather the host.”

  “Anything Father?” Bonelord stared down at the broken body of the child without emotion.

  “No more than we have already reported Lord Protector. The child certainly was not killed in the fire. His face was crushed and he had obviously been bound at sometime before that.”

  “Do you agree Abbot?”

  “Well I am certainly no chirurgen my lord. But I agree with The Father’s assessment. I would only add I have treated many soldiers in the field Lord Protector and this was not the work of a soldier.”

  “Very well Abbot. I agree also. Roger what about you? Do you have anything to add to the inquest?”

  “I do my lord. See this soil on the child’s back? Do you notice the color?”

  “I see…it is orange?”

  “Precisely my lord. All of the soil surrounding the castle is black. This orange brown soil only occurs on the hills on the outskirts of the shire.”

  “Well noted Roger. This child was not even killed in the castle and at some po
int either him, or his body, was on the outskirts of the shire. Then we must start our search there.”

  “My lord, if I may interrupt…” Sergeant Folsun spoke up.

  “Please do Sergeant if you have aught to add to this matter.”

  “The child’s buttons my lord.”

  “What of the buttons Sergeant?”

  “I recognize the shape of those buttons, the six sided square. See here, my coat has three. These are only sold by one vendor in the market plaza. Three for one copper piece.”

  “The child’s father?” Nessleton breathed, looking over at The Father and The Abbot, “the vendor Sergeant, what was his name?”

  “Alfred my lord. Alfred Brufson.”

  Maverick had walked the entire length of the pier three times and had been through the parlor district twice as many times. None of the ‘operators’ remembered Oxley, or more likely, would not admit to seeing him. This in and of itself did not surprise Maverick as discretion was as much an essential part of that occupation as was bribing the right people at the right time to be left alone.

  But still, Oxley’s size alone would have made him stand out to most of the ladies in the district. And the expression on their faces would have given them away had they been lying to Maverick. Maverick was starting to believe that whatever happened to Oxley happened early on before he spent most of his gold in the parlors. Either that or he had fallen in love with his first ‘provider’ and had been talked into running off with her. Maverick believed the latter was more likely than the former. It was an all too common practice for such women to beguile naive young men possessing more gold than they earned in six months into “taking them away” from that life. This would usually involve buying themselves passage out of town to the place they had ‘always dreamed of’ living like Futuretown or Kings Castle. Where she would stay with the nave just long enough to spend up everything of worth the dimwit had; before returning to the seedy piers of Zafton to wait to be “taken away from it all” again.

  And that is exactly what Maverick was going to tell Lyla when he returned. She had refused to head back to Milestill without Oxley despite Maverick telling her that he was somewhere enjoying himself. She insisted that Maverick hear it from Oxley himself or bring Oxley back to tell her. Well if Oxley had left town neither one of those would be possible and she would have no choice other than to return to Milestill with him. He had been in Zafton a week already, four days longer than he thought it would take to catch up with Lyla and Oxley and send them back to Milestill.

  Now, without Oxley, he had no choice but to take Lyla back to Milestill himself. And he wanted to set out first thing in the morning. He had one more hostel to return to. The lady working that night was away servicing the captain of a ship. Maverick was told she would be back two bells after midday. The second bell had already tolled so he was now heading back to speak with her before returning to Lyla.

  The room was small but nice. Maverick had paid the scallywag by the stairs ten silver pieces to let him come up and wait for the mistress in her room. Compared to the one silver piece the three women who shared the building paid him to watch the door for them, ten silver pieces was almost two weeks pay. The windows were boarded so that little light came in. There were small candles on small pedestals in all four corners of the room that kept it dim but not dark. There was a clover green sitting chair in one corner with a crate where the ‘guests’ could deposit their clothing and shoes. And of course there was a bed with a similarly glover green covering.

  Maverick sat on the bed. To ‘test it out’. He was shocked at how soft it was. He bounced a few times and felt it spring back into place. Whatever was in the bed Maverick was sure it was not hay or straw like they used back in Milestill.

  As he was taking his last bounce the small door flung open. Standing in the door was a woman in her late forties in high stockings, a red ruffled dress, a red and white bonnet and white gloves with fringes and tassels on the wrists and cuffs. She was thick but not quite overweight. Maverick stood abruptly, almost bumping his head on the low ceiling before speaking, “Madam Bouncing Bess, I presume.”

  “Well you are handsomer than most.” She said, as she started to remove her gloves and bonnet.

  Maverick pulled out a gold coin and held it up to her face. Bess stopped undressing. Her ten silver piece rate was higher than the other two mistresses who shared the hostel with her. And she made her sessions ‘more lively’ because of it. Like the expensive goose bedding she had purchased off a merchant ship from Monet. But she knew Maverick was not offering her one gold piece for her “services”.

  “What do you want to know? And hurry up, I’m tired.” Bess slumped down onto the bed. Maverick sat beside her.

  “I think you met my friend a couple of nights ago. A fat kid with a pocket full of gold.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Messages

  Bess had told Maverick everything. About Oxley’s stay with her. About him heading over to the Puss le Cat and about her running after him to invite him to spend the night with her when he left the Puss le Cat. And about the press gang. Everyone in Zafton knew who the press gang were.

  Each ship had specific members of its crew that were assigned to work the press gang. The particular gang that had pressed Oxley into service in the alley behind the brothel house belonged to The Adamante. She even recognized the bosun, Rodrigo as one of her regulars.

  Maverick was now on his way to relay the news to Lyla. He couldn’t lie to her about something like this. Besides there was nothing she could do anyway. Oxley and the crew of The Adamante were probably off the coast of the Darkmen’s Domain right now and heading south to the Arachald Islands.

  Lyla was outside the tavern strapping the last of her, Maverick’s and Oxley’s things to a donkey she had purchased with her gold. Her back was to Maverick and she did not see him approaching.

  Maverick paused as he looked at her from behind. By The One! She had grown since their days of youth. He remembered when they would chase each other around town for play or team up in games of football. Lyla could always kick the pig’s bladder harder than any of the boys and after a while the other boys stopped letting her play because she kept busting the bladder. He remembered when they would attend the big fairs together and compete with each other to see who could hit the beggars in the stocks with the most rotten fruit. He remembered when they got older and would sit in Foeman’s Cave and watch the mysterious travelers and strangers who would come in. Lyla always loved to see the soldiers but especially the knights. It was that look in her eye that had made Maverick consider becoming a knight and led to him broaching the subject with his uncle who had implied he knew the king and might one day ask a favor of him to get Maverick that knighthood.

  But the one memory Maverick cherished most with Lyla was the night of the great snow storm. It started snowing early that morning and by early afternoon everything was impassable. You could not even cross the street because of the height and cold of the snow. Lyla and Maverick had went out to get water from the well on the outskirts of town but could not make it back because of the snow. Instead they were forced to shelter in an old lean too attached to a burned down barn. The roof on the barn was gone but the lean-to’s roof and door were still intact.

  Because of the cold they had to huddle together for warm. With not even a blanket as it got colder and colder the only thing they could do was squeeze each other tighter and tighter. It was the first time he had felt Lyla’s breast up against his chest. It was the first time he had felt her warm breath against his neck. And, though she did not know it in her sleep, it was the first time he had kissed her lips.

  Maverick let the memory fade. She was fourteen then and he was fifteen. Now, almost five years later, Lyla was a woman. Her body was small and shapely. Her hair was long and wavy and auburn. And Maverick was in love with her.

  Lyla turned to see Maverick looking at her from across the street. He was just standing there with a funny look o
n his face. Like he was lovesick or something. She looked directly behind him and then to his left and to his right. Where was Oxley? Why was Maverick standing there without Oxley? What has happened to Oxley?

  She was looking at him now. She had caught him gazing, he knew it. Now she was looking about…for Oxley. Maverick continued walking. Resting his hand on the hilt of the broadsword he had purchased with his gold. He needed to look composed. He needed to assure her that Oxley was not dead and that life aboard a fighting ship might be good for him. Truth be told, it might finally make a man of him.

  “Maverick? Where is Oxley?” She said almost curiously. ‘Surely if something where wrong he wouldn’t be looking so business like’, she thought.

  “Lyla, Oxley has found work.” That sounded better to him than saying Oxley has been kidnapped and forced to serve out the rest of his life on board a ship full of pirates.

  “Work? What kind of work Maverick?”

  “Aboard a ship.”

  “A ship? What in the Name of The One does Oxley know about working on a ship?”

  “Got me Lyla. I guess he didn’t want to go back to Old Lady Marlow’s.”

  “You guess? You guess? You guess? You mean you did not talk to him? You did not ask him? Did you even ‘see’ him Maverick?” She was getting heated. All of this ‘work’ aboard a ship did not sound right. Maverick was hiding something.

  “No I did not talk to him. No I did not ask him and No I did not even see him. Oxley is gone Lyla! He has been press ganged into service on board The Adamante!” Maverick blurted it out. He was too frustrated by her questioning to be diplomatic about the matter anymore.

  “The Adamante…” she whispered it. “The Adamante was the ship we sold the compass to. Oh my God, it’s all my fault.” Lyla dropped to her knees in the mud and sobbed in the street. “It’s all my fault. I’ve went and got Oxley killed all to sell a cursed compass for gold.”