Morgan
Their latest escape ended up lasting well over three days. They managed to pick up their packs and belongings before running close to a league and then they took shelter in a small cave that buttressed up against the first spurs of the Felsic Mountains that stuck out far into the fertile plains of Tyniria.
The group slept fitfully, unable to do much more than that and they departed again at day break. Dor Akun would rise before the sun each day and it was noticeably bigger as if it had grown the night before. With each day their path became rockier and they started to climb ridges and descend into large draws that could take a half day to cross. The mountains themselves were not only visible but grew considerably with each day’s journey.
Once they reached the lowest point in the mountain range, they had to make a decision. There was no sign of Azor and no sign of their pursuers or the dragon and its wyvern companion. They could either stay and wait for the Northman or continue their journey and leave Tyniria crossing the mountain range and enter Pentost, a wild region filled with creatures from legend.
In the end, they decided to continue trusting that the Northman, experienced in the wild, would catch up and find them. After two more days of travel high into the mountains, though at their lowest point, they finally crossed the Felsics leaving Tyniria and entered Pentost. They didn’t have to look far for the headwaters that consisted of several streams that shed their snow and rainfall to journey west to the far away shores of the Western Sea.
Drinking and filling their flasks, the group descended until they reached the first signs civilization. An abandoned trading post that looked as if it had been pillaged well over a year ago.
“I grow weary of asking what happened,” Dour said, his voice low.
“We all do,” Zokar consoled the man. “At least they have a small raft we can commandeer to travel downstream.”
“That rickety ol thing was only used by them for crossing the stream here where its at its widest so that they didn’t have to hike a league up hill to wade across,” Dour said, lamenting their find.
“Not to put too fine a point on all this, but my plan was to find something we could use to travel on the river in order to allow us, and especially Master Diamedes, to rest,” Damien said. “That was five days ago when we were being pursued by a hundred mercenaries and one concerned mage.”
“Concerned?” Dour asked, looking at his friend. “Really?”
“Well, I still find it difficult to criticize a superior.” Damien planted his staff firmly in the ground by the stream not far from the building and placed his free hand on his hip.
Dour, not to be outdone, placed both his hands on his hips and said, “You’ve left them losers once and for all. Now don’t you go placating them with your kind words and all.”
Before Damien could respond a howl pierced the mid-day air. “What is that?” Alyssa asked, turning to look back the way they had come.
They didn’t have long to wait when a pair of wolves, nearly as large as a small pony, showed themselves a few stone throws away. “I think we need to go.” Damien said.
“Agreed,” Zokar said, pulling a knife and cutting the rope that secured the small raft to a large post that was sunk deep into the ground. “Everyone, get onboard.”
“I’ll push it in,” Dour said, moving to the raft.
“Get on it,” Zokar ordered. “Let Damien and I push, we’re taller.”
“Oh, so it’s pick on the little people of the world day, is it?” Dour said, though he was complying with Zokar’s orders just the same. “Give me a hand, Master Little Diamedes.”
Alyssa jumped nimbly onto the raft and balanced herself precariously as even her little weight sent the small vessel rocking from side to side. “Watch your step,” she said.
Damien threw his staff to Dour and pushed alongside Zokar. Both men managed to get the craft into the deeper water, and they jumped onto the raft’s edge with their bottoms while their feet still dangled in the cold water. “There,” Zokar said, “that wasn’t too bad.”
Suddenly four more wolves appeared and the six started trotting along the stream’s edge never taking their eyes off them. “You were saying, tall man?” Dour asked.
“It’s only six,” Zokar noted. “Five against six and they can’t swim.”
“Actually they can,” Diamedes corrected.
Zokar sighed, “Fine, they can’t swim and fight at the same time.”
“Now there you maybe right if they need their paws to paddle,” Diamedes relented.
Alyssa grabbed her abdomen and sat while bending over with her head almost on her shins. “You alright lass?” Dour said, dropping the formality. On most of the trip he either referred to her as lady or lass depending on his mood.
“I’ll live,” she said. “The wound is acting up a bit. I may have pulled something when I jumped.”
The small raft twirled and started to be pushed back to the northern shore where the wolves were trotting close by in anticipation of eating soon. Zokar looked around, “Oar, stick, anything?”
“We didn’t have a chance to check out the outpost,” Dour noted. “I bet they have at least one good oar or a rudder for this thing there.”
“I will take care of this,” Damien said, standing on his raft and taking his staff from Dour.
“Be careful with what magic you unleash around here,” Dour said. “Best if you two scoot back a bit.” Dour was referring to Diamedes and Alyssa, who both complied.
Zokar used his arms against the raft to lift his legs out of the water and almost lost his balance before catching himself. “Don’t blow us up.”
Damien waited for the raft to twirl so that he was closest to the shore then, with a flourish, he promptly bent over at the waist and thrust his long staff point first into the water hitting bottom. He then used both his hands to push off the murky bottom forcing the raft away from the shoreline. Content with his effort he turned to see his four companions looking at him strangely. “What?”
“We thought you were gonna blast them critters,” Dour said.
“You mean like this?” Damien then turned and summoned a fireball hurling it at the center of the pack of wolves. They scattered, some yelping as at least two rolled in the sandy beach to put out the fire on their fur. A very small amount of vegetation scorched black, but in all the damp landscape rebutted the worst of the wizard’s attack.
Dour nodded after Damien looked back, “Yeah, something like that.”
A howl reverberated through the air and at least six more wolves appeared on the south shore this time. They also kept pace with the small raft though they stayed further away from the banks of the river. Dour’s sigh was audible as were his words, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It appears that our historian is more than a little bit unlucky,” Zokar noted.
“I would say that more than being unlucky, I wonder if some power that be was not working against him in more than one way,” Damien said, his face pensive as he held a hand to his chin.
Diamedes scooted towards the center of the raft and looked at the south side of the shoreline. Seeing the large wolves he said, “There has to be an explanation for this as well.”
“You’re the bookworm,” Dour said, looking at his fellow seated companion. “What do ya think it is?”
“I’ll need sometime to think,” Diamedes said. “In the meantime, we better have a plan for what we’re going to do when we finally beach this raft.”
“We’ve got at least a half dozen wolves on either shore,” Zokar noted. “It will take a couple of minutes for either pack to swim across and join in an attack. I would think we will have maybe five minutes to kill one pack before the other can join in.”
“Well maybe we can kill one group if Damien can hurl a bigger fireball,” Dour said. He looked at his friend and started to laugh.
“You are an uncouth friend to go there,” Damien said.
Dour tried to stifle his laugh, “I’m ju
st sayin…”
“I think we have bigger problems gentleman that your current topic today,” Alyssa said while motioning with her head downstream.
Her companions followed her gaze and they saw what looked like a Kesh wizard standing on the bank far downstream. His staff was in his left hand and he wore a brown robe with a hood that covered his head from the noon sun. He motioned at something behind him without looking back and after a half minute, three large bears shambled into view. It would take a good five minutes or more for their slow-moving raft to float downstream to his location.
“Damn,” Dour said. “We just can’t seem to get a break.”
“Alyssa,” Zokar asked. “Do you think you can use your bow while Damien engages him at a distance?”
“Wait a moment,” Damien said. “We are bunched together on this raft. One of his fireballs would incinerate the lot of us in no time and I am not going to burn another time in my life. Once was enough.”
“We need to swim to shore then,” Zokar said. “At least some of us. Perhaps Alyssa stays with Damien on the raft and I’ll see if I can close with my handbow.”
“You’ll need to be fairly close to hit him with that pea-shooter of yours,” Dour said. “Besides, his little pets there will maul you to death if the wolves don’t beat em to it.”
Zokar looked down at the small cleric who remained seated, “Is pessimism a prerequisite to serving in your faith or is that something you just happened to be born with an abundance of?”
“I speak what I think,” Dour said. “That ain’t got nothing to do with the Father.”
“We could really use that Northman friend of yours about now,” Alyssa noted, a tinge of defeat in her voice.
The wolves howled on either side of the bank and started to become agitated running and biting at each other and at the thin air. “Something’s riling them up,” Dour said.
Alyssa stood gingerly while Zokar assisted her. She took her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow and took a stance practically straddling the small cleric who looked up at her. She looked back at him and said, “Try not to rock the boat, you’ll mess up my aim.”
“Try not to miss and not fall on top of me,” Dour countered.
The group watched in silence for a moment as the wolves continued their agitated behavior. A flock of birds, ravens by the looks of their black feathers and beaks, began circling high overhead. A swarm of butterflies suddenly took off from the forest and headed towards the raft passing over the wolves on the north shore. A falcon shrieked from somewhere so high it wasn’t visible even when the companions shaded their eyes with their hands and looked up. Finally Damien said, “Spooky.”
“What in Agon are they doing?” Dour said pointing at the bears that had begun to charge east towards the wolves.
“They look angry,” Zokar noted.
“Can bears swim?” Dour asked.
Alyssa laughed then said, “You spend too much time in the city. Of course they can swim.”
“Where is Azor when you need him?” Damien lamented.
“What, you think the Northman could handle a half-dozen wild wolves and three oversized bears?” Zokar asked. “It’s probably for the best that he isn’t here to die with us.”
“Nothing wrong with dying,” Dour said. “The Father will welcome everyone to his bosom eventually, it’s just a matter of how that matters.”
“Well sitting on this damn raft twirling like some drunk dancer isn’t what I had in mind when I joined the guild,” Zokar said, sounding defeated for the first time and dropping his leadership mantle slightly in the process.
“We’re getting closer,” Diamedes noted.
The bears didn’t wait and charged the wolves on the north shoreline. Their companions on the south shore howled in rage and snapped the air while gingerly testing the water as if they wanted to enter the lazy-flowing river and swim across to their aid but something kept them at bay.
The battle of the animals wasn’t even close. The bears ripped the wolves apart, those that they could catch and only two wolves eventually fled outrunning the bears to the far forest away from the river. The remaining wolves howled then tucked their tails between their legs and ran disappearing from view.
“That went rather well,” Damien noted. “Now we are down to only one of my fellow Kesh.”
Diamedes shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted while speaking, “I’ve some experience with those who protect the wild and I believe this is not one of your countrymen.”
“Who is he then?” Damien asked.
“He looks to be one of the Arnen,” Diamedes said. “If so, this is fortuitous for us.”
“A dratted druid?” Dour asked.
Diamedes nodded, “Yes, that is good for us.”
“He’s a Mother worshipper,” Dour said in protest. “Nothing good about them.”
“Well they aren’t predisposed to kill,” Diamedes said. “That means we stand a good chance of reasoning with the man and obtaining safe passage. That is better than the alternative.”
“What, wolves?” Dour asked.
“Yes,” Diamedes said.
The group watched as they approached, and the sun was blocked out slightly by the swarm of butterflies overhead. The ravens took off circling though seemingly to be tracking something. There was no sign of the bears or wolves and the falcon screeched no more.
Just when they thought they were within bowshot of the brown-robed man, he started motioning with his staff and free hand, holding both out in front of him. Immediately, the water swirled and eddied turning the raft head first towards the man and shore. The water level of the river rose and lifted the raft a couple of feet higher as it pushed it towards shore.
“Watch yourselves,” Dour said. “Prepare for impact.”
Everyone braced themselves as best they could, expecting the small raft to hit the shoreline hard; but at the last minute it slowed, and beached itself as the water level receded. Zokar was the first to speak saying, “Alyssa, lower your bow.”
Diamedes agreed, “Do as he says, Alyssa.”
“Alright,” Alyssa said, lowering her aim but keeping the arrow nocked and ready.
The man was still a good stone’s throw away and seemed to know what he was doing in beaching the raft far enough away to allow its riders time to digest what just happened. “Shall we?” Damien asked.
Zokar stepped off first followed by Alyssa who jumped over Dour. Damien held his hand out to first Diamedes and then his friend, Dour, and pulled them to their feet. They all stepped on shore together and stood in a semi-circle in silence. After a moment the man motioned for them to come forward.
“You’re right,” Zokar said looking at Diamedes. “This is no Kesh wizard.”
Diamedes nodded, “I suggest you let me do the talking.”
“Be my guest, sir,” Zokar jested.
The group started walking at a slow pace, finally picking up a bit of speed when they felt awkward approaching the man so slowly. When they had almost reached him, Zokar tugged at Diamedes’ robe halting the historian’s progress. Diamedes cleared his throat and said, “Greetings. We hope we haven’t intruded on you or your lands.”
The other man smiled and looked around before returning his gaze to them, “These lands belong to the Mother. I simply look after them from time to time. You must be Diamedes of Tyniria?”
“I am,” Diamedes said, “However, you are not known to me.”
“I am known as Morgan,” the man said. “I hail from the far south and have lived many a year in this region.”
“You are one of the Arnen, if I may be so bold in asking?” Diamedes said.
Several butterflies twittered about giving the meeting a surreal feel as their multi-colored wings gave life to the dreary landscape around them. “I am one of the remaining few. Perhaps even the last one.”
Diamedes couldn’t control his reaction, “You can’t be serious. The Great Druid should have called a conclave at his hold near
the Western Sea by now.”
“He did,” Morgan said, sadness filling his face. “The few that survived and met were attacked and killed.”
The group stood in stunned silence as the wind blew gently and a faint howl of defeat from far away greeted their ears. Diamedes held up a hand and approached the druid finally reaching him and placing it on the man’s left shoulder which stood considerably higher than the historian’s. Diamedes spoke, “You have my deepest sympathies, but may I ask how this is even possible?”
The druid looked down at first then he lifted his head and made eye contact with Diamedes. Resting his right hand on top of Diamedes hand he responded, “You think the Arnen are invincible. I would have thought the same thing until this year.”
“Go on,” Zokar said from behind Diamedes, though the rest of the group closed in behind their companion after he had advanced on the druid.
The other man acknowledged Zokar with a nod of his head and continued, “Our conclave had gone well. Like the many before, we had made our plans for the transit and the protecting of our charges, human, animal, and plant. We were prepared for many dragons and they did come. They came with a vengeance. What we were unprepared for was the treachery of the Kesh.”
It couldn’t be helped, and most eyes went to Damien who shifted uncomfortably. Diamedes turned to say something but Dour beat him to it, “Don’t ya fret none, my friend. You are only a Kesh in name.”
Morgan saw the reaction of the companions and quickly spoke, “You, Damien, are known to us as were your mother and father. We harbor no ill will with you or them.”
Damien looked visibly relieved and lowered his head and shifted his feet. “Thank you,” he said simply.
“What did them other Kesh do?” Dour asked, the emphasis clear to all.
“Their evil plan had begun years ago,” the druid said. “The foundation for our defeat was designed, plotted and executed over the last few decades and sped along as we came closer to the transit.”
“This was planned then?” Dour asked.
“Yes,” Morgan said. “They weakened us individually at first and they were clever about it.”
The Dragon War Page 19