Chapter Seven - The Long Cut |
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"While ordinary men succeed by whit and guile, pushing tactically to a goal
that they may eventually achieve - similar results are often achieved by the
truly great almost instantly. It is this brutally forthright means of success
and gusto that makes lesser mortals sweat and raises the hackels of angels and
demons alike, for a certain element of his formula relies on setting one against
the other so that neither dares raise a hand against him. This common quality of
the hero leads us to question the safety of his technique, for while soldiers
and politicians work towards less glorified goals in a more mundane fashion - an
epic figure cannot help but load the environment around him with desperate
potential. Hear then this wise counsel: a prudent figure uses the heroic and
great figures under his power sparingly and with limitation; seeking always to
carefully remove weights from the scales of conflict immediately after they have
served their use."
Arn was seldom within sight of the rest of group, Joseph could only assume that he had them under surveillance most of the time, occasionally the hunter would rejoin the party whispering odd pieces of advice, that Joseph should keep his weapon inside his cloak and that Speck should be careful to remain exactly between the leading Joseph and the trailing Febra. He offered no explanations but stalked back into the gloom. It was all that Speck could do, to keep Joseph and the huntsman in sight. His lungs were breathless and his chest felt hot and tight, but he did not stop, fear drove him on. Fear of what was and fear of what could be if the assailants caught up with them in the open. The land was desolate as far as Speck could make out, in all the time they had ran he had touched not so much as brush or rock. The terrain was also flatter here than the undulating plains to the south, it meant their chase was unhindered by surroundings. Yet Speck also thought that the same would be true for their pursuers. Arn still ran ahead, dropping back to ensure he led the others in the correct direction. He had not dared give time to his thoughts as of yet, rather concentrating on navigating the speediest course east, he was aware of the coastline to the north and was careful to not veer to close. It would be easier to track them near the shore than if they stayed on the plains, he knew the only saving grace they had been delivered was darkness. The night was black as any he had witnessed, the air was thick and warm but clouds low shielding them from any light from star or moon. He knew approximately the distance to Asten-Taran's borders as he had discussed it with Rundell. He winced at the thought of the old warriors name. How had he forsaken him! He should have stayed and fought side by side with him, perhaps then he would have stood a chance. Instead he had hidden like a child, frightened of the dark and what may lie inside. The wind whipped across his face as he ran, quickly taking away the tears from his cheeks, leaving them to rest briefly on the arid plain below. There was nothing else for it but to continue the race, if they stop and rested here in the open, they would certainly be discovered by morning.
It was more than twelve leagues to the City itself and
even with a forced march that journey would see the rise of three new dawns. By
the time of the first sign of dawn, on the morning after the attack, Arn finally
called a halt. He had been out of sight of Joseph for a while but the mariner
was not sure how much time had passed. His energy was sapped to exhaustion and
at the huntsman's word to halt he dropped to the floor, grasping for the air,
that while all about, seemed to be in very short supply. Looking up at Arn, he
could see the athletic man breathing heavily but showing no real signs of
fatigue. Febra was the last to arrive at the spot Arn had chosen to end the
chase, she sat down calmly on the floor, sweat was covered about her face and
her thick hair was pushed back with the moisture it created. "How far have we
come?" She puffed as she addressed Arn. The huntsman turned towards the East,
looking to where they had come from earlier that night, "It is difficult to say
for sure, perhaps four leagues, at the most five. Our direction has been true as
I could make it, using the sound of the seas to guide us. " Speck looked up at
Arn, his bright red face was etched in pain, the journey had hurt him and yet he
had never stopped to ask for quarter. Arn looked upon the young man, his respect
had been renewed over the past night, he had carried himself well considering he
was easily the least fit of the four. |
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Madistrin stood in his private quarters, the room though large was not adorned
as richly as would be expected of his position. He had never given much time to
property and riches, rather dwelling on sentimental keepsakes. His eyes caught
the helm that sat proudly on the chest of drawers next to his bed, it had been
his brothers. Madistrin had carried it from the field on which his brother had
fallen and often he would look upon it in times of trouble, considering what
Lefarious would do. In truth, he known for some time that things in Vedian were
not as they should be and certainly not as they would have been if his brother
had still lived. A knock came at the heavy door and he called out, "Come forth."
The door swung upon and four men entered and bowed before him, each offering
their personal pledges to his name. He addressed them each in turn, a smile
crossing his sullen face, "Captain, it is good to see you again. Did all go well
with the message you held?" The tall man, stood from the kneeling position, his
fair hair adorning his handsome face, slim and angular his body was testament to
long hard days training at the Pluris barracks. Beneath a tunic which bore the
royal insignia of the house he served, a pale linked mail armour covered his
torso and strapped upon his back a broadsword was sheathed. His tone was soft
but his voice commanding, "It did my liege. I delivered three nights past and
then moved at speed to parlee as requested with the Earl of Medwere." Madistrin
clasped his hand warmly, "Your tasks as ever have been carried out with
precision and loyalty, rest yourself now as you will, for the hour is nearing
when I would call of your services again Parran. After bidding farewell to all,
the Captain left and traversed the halls out into the main entrance to the
palace. He thought to go straight to his bed at the barracks but instead decided
on a drink at the mess. It would be good to see his men again, he knew soon they
would be called upon and they deserved his attention. The streets were quiet for
Pluris and he ambled slowly, taking in the cooler air that sprung of the nearby
Bay of Vedian. As he neared the mess, he could hear the loud voices within,
whatever circumstances or difficult times they lived in, it could not be said
that soldiers of Pluris did not now how to enjoy themselves. As he pushed opened
the door and entered the busy room a loud voice shouted out from the bar.
"Captain Parran Dre'Jan your men have waited long and hard for your return. It
is dry as the Lough Dessert in here, would you not purchase a mug of ale for
desperate men!" Parran pushed his way through the throng of men, a lot of new
faces he thought, it disconcerted him. A broad smile crossed his lips as he met
with the owner of the voice that had greeted him, "Its good to see you my
friend, I hope all has been well since my departure?" The large man at the bar,
grasped his foreman in a lock and pulled him close to whisper at his side, "I
would speak with you alone, soon, in private but not here." The two men parted
and Parran greeted the others around him, careful to not let the words of his
friend show on his face. Things were changing quickly in Pluris, too many new
recruits, new units being formed under the instruction of the (Ed: What rank
would the head of the Pluris army have...please enter it here PS: he is with the
council), it was not like his Lieutenant to be unnerved easily, he would meet
quickly with him for a debriefing and then report back to the CrownPrince before
the night was over. It would seem sleep would have to wait for another time.
Madistrin sat around the small rectangular table at the top of his quarters, on
the other sides representatives from Coralis, Asten and Gan Tarans waited for
him to begin. These men Madistrin trusted, he had known many Earls and Dukes in
his time, some honourable most indifferent, more interested in their duchy’s and
personal riches than Vedian as a whole. These men were different, he had long
trusted their opinions and knowledge and believed they had the same goals at
heart as he. Prominence Redwick of Medwere was the youngest of the three, a
slightly shy man in his early thirties more at home in the hills than at court.
Madistrin breathed deeply, it had been too long since he had stood at the shores of Lake Medwere, looking up at the vast mountain range that ran many leagues into the North. It was a sight that had left him quite heady as a young man, the early morning dew laying deep upon the rich grassland that surrounded the lake area coupled with the mist that ran down the mountains like an avalanche of spectre's, rushing towards you only to hover wistfully over the lake. Waiting. He had often visited Medwere in his youth, his health never being of the highest order, it was seen as a place of recuperation and convelesance. Madistrin had thought little of it at first, annoyed with the time that took him away from his brother and the capital. Yet as time went on, he befriended a young Earl and a friendship was forged for a lifetime. It was strange he had thought, Redwick had been so different from his brother, uninterested in matters of state or battle. Rather kept to wandering the mountainous region and exploring, often disappearing for day at a time. Quiet, unnervingly so to some, he was infact a captivating conversationalist and knew a fantastic breadth of tales and stories gleaned from travellers that he had met over time. The boy had grown into a man and while the two had kept in touch, pressures of state had worn heavier on both in more recent years. They had exchanged messages, regular letters but this had been the first meeting in perhaps two years. Madistrin smiled across at his younger friend, a warm smile that told of history and experiences shared. Lost on those who had not trod the same path. For the first time in an age, Madistrin felt a warmth and confidence inside himself, he had been so alone. To Redwick's left sat uncomfortably in the slim crafted chair was a man of some considerable girth and heart. Asten's noble Duke, Dugard or Digger Dugard as he was less formally known in Asten. Not from any lineage Dugard had acquired the title of Duke , more down to a fortune made from stone mining the foothills. He had traded throughout the land and was a respected businessman in commerce. It was said that he had dug the first ten weight of stone in one day with nothing more than pick and shovel to hand. A burly man in youth, fortune and fair living had softened the muscle considerably. His adequate stomach sat comfortably on the huge adorned belt that hung around his waist. He wore the clothes of his office, that he prized so highly. A plumed hat and frilled full coat, he was quite a sight and known well throughout the Tarans. His beard was kept and full, a dark mass that combined with long sage locks of hair. A mouth of full lips and broad smile that rarely left its keeper, he was a jolly fellow indeed. Madistrin wondered often why he kept company with such a scoundrel, for that is what Dugard was and no doubt. His business dealings were dubious on occasion and his Dukedom was ineligible, purchased from a dying man. Yet for all his shortfallings he had heart, never a question he was a man that the people trusted. He had seen where they had come from, he knew of their lives, their ways and fears. The people could respond with such a man. Aside from those factors, Madistrin liked the chubby stonemason, his laugh was like a bellowing bugle, sounding out through the walls of his home, coating them in a lightheartedness, they rarely had been accustomed to. His voice booked out across the table, "Are we to sit her and stare at each other like lovers, or are we to get down to matters at hand! I would discuss rather sooner and therefore eat not so late." Redwick turned his head to Dugard, "Do not trifle Duke of Asten, the matters of which we discuss tonight are of the utmost importance to Vedian and its people. You know that." Dugard smiled, Redwick always addressed him by his title, he liked that. "I would merely progress with matters, it has been a long journey and man can not live on gallant heart and good deeds alone." Madistrin, smiled at Dugard, "It would seem you have survived well till now my friend." The hearty laugh filled the house and even Redwick chuckled to himself. Madistrin motioned forwards now and the men pushed conspiratorially forward, hands clasped tightly together resting on the table. "I can not thank thee enough for a long journey that has been made in such short a time. I can only apologise for the haste of my request but hope what I have to say will bear that out." Madistrin paused, is if to consider himself, then once again turned closer to the others, "No perhaps we should approach this differently, I would be certain first before I speak. Come tell me of your tales firstly. Dugard what events unfold in Asten, what is the mood of the people and I would hear of all, especially any talk surrounding the university at your shore." The Duke sat back in his chair, preparing for a long speech, his eyes tight the skin stretched in lines around them. A seriousness burrowed in his brow, "What I would tell you, is not news that you may wish to hear, I would not be the bearer of such tidings yet it seems no other is in position to do so. Asten is far removed from Pluris itself, yet our trade routes are tight, we hear many things and our speak is influenced by such rumour. For some time now the trade routes have been trodden by curs and the like, yet of late it has worsened, lawlessness reigns in the wilderness, if yet it has not spilled into our city. The response has been odd from our esteemed Earl of Asten, he has sought no addition to the watch or internal militia. The trade council but ten moons past petitioned he and his followers on the benefits of a border guard to be installed. Even offering to foot the cost of such a force, it was declined. By reason of lack of necessity, it seems the threat is real only in certain eyes. In itself I find that strange for that is fact, what I tell now is rumour and less am I able to substantiate its content. As you would expect I have sound ties with the blacksmiths of Asten, a rowdy if usually honest bunch, they talk of a bumper year. Orders up and their days full, extra carts arriving from Lough-Taran delivering ore of that I am sure. One said that arms were the main uplift in requests, swords and shields. Being the inquisitive fellow I am, I dug a little further. I had checks done on caravans leaving Asten for a week, a watch on every stone and drop of wheat that passed our borders. The reports gave a stark contrast to the blacksmiths words, no arms had left Asten, with the obvious exception being our chain armour which is imported throughout the land to all town barracks." Chain armour from Asten was a prized possession for anyone joining the Vedian army. Crafted from the finest ore and smelted by the blacksmiths House of Histevirrillm. A family smiths dating back an age, they had produced fine chain as far back as the great war, it is even believed that they forged the great chain worn by the Sabre Regiment, although that has never been confirmed by Bannermane archaeologists. On induction into the military a young man would be presented with his chain and trusted to care for it for many years, many long serving commanders are said to still wear the chain of their initiation, at least those who spend enough time in the field at practice. "So the questions were still unanswered, who was ordering the arms and how and where were they being delivered? I spoke to a friend at the House of Histevirrillm, a smithy retired now but knowledgeable in affairs. He was unable to confirm the buyer, only saying that no pattern had emerged in large scale dealing. Most requests had been spread out and from variable sources. Yet has was able to tell me of a caravan route regularly delivering off the normal trade routes. Apparently a small camp South of Tantagel had been set up to receipt these goods, but the caravan was not taking the southern road instead travelling at great distance over the foothills south-east and around Tantagel. In itself this would delay a journey by two weeks and I would deduce can only point to ill doings. I decided to make the Earl of Asten aware of my findings, my first if not my last mistake. At best he was flippant towards the matter but as I pressed he became irritated and drew reference to my own business dealings, suggesting I would be careful to watch my own caravans and concentrate less on others. I might have but this own to ignorance were it not for events of the next day. Reports came through the village of an attack on the House of Histevirrillm, curs had broken into the grounds looking for bounty, the elder smithy had apparently tried to halt the break-in and paid with this life. Stabbed thrice through the chest with a sword, an unusual choice of weapon for those looking to steal. Normally long knifes and clubs are more your average thieves weapon of choice." Redwick interjected, "That in itself is no confirmation of wrong doing, we live a lawless age, swords are not the blade of militia only." It did not say it was proof in itself, my learned friend, "Yet it is but another piece in a jigsaw that puzzles me. Perhaps the arms are to travel South to the Lough for the Huskarls to war upon each other, it is not unknown for tribe to invade tribe. Yet they tend to be an honourable and direct folk, if not entirely civilised. I have little more to say at this time, only to bring to your attention the general feeling at Asten. That is one of concern and fear, the people are seeing an growth in crime and a reduction in those that could stem its tide. Yet at the head of our Kingdom no concern or direction is given to these matters. I am a wealthy man, I count my coins and I guard my belongings, It is my experience that nobility are similar in their approach to what is theirs." Dugard folded his arms and rested them on his ample stomach. The stonemaker is worried Madistrin thought, he reads the signs well but I would still seek a final arrow in the centre to verify my suspicions. The prince turned now to the younger man. "And what news to the east, my old friend. Are you blessed with happier times?" Redwick voice was tame and quiet compared to the stonemakers, yet its tone carried much weight with its listeners. "What news I have, I would surmount, you already suspect, yet it is clear that you seek clarification prior to deciding a course. For my own, I perhaps hope that its direction does not blow towards Medwere. Selfish I know, yet I would look for no more incident than already dwells in our valley and for myself too long has it been since I walked among the Rinslake Range. I feel stifled by the heavy air of the towns, yet I digress. I will tell you what needs to be told. As you know my town is blessed well in trade, even if it does not have the history of Asten behind it, I would like to think those that choose to dwell there do so because they feel an affinity with what it represents." Durgal looked puzzled, "What does it represent, it has no specialists or experts, a pretty place indeed for those that trifle with such matters, but I do not see what you drive at?" Redwick smiled knowingly, placing his hand on the heavy mans shoulder, "Indeed my learned friend it is not a truth for all. For I have some small knowledge in the ways of the past, I have spent time with scholars though I find them tiresome folk, I have dallied with story tellers of old and talked of the day long past. The great war, is remembered by few that have access to such texts and less can recount even the trifles of details. Yet it is my belief that while the war cast its shadow on Medwere and its borders, the people of the town opposed its tyranny. I can find no recollection of any man of Medwere in battle, no folklore or tale. It would seem therefore that we opposed the principal of war even when the town was taken by the oppressor. You see my friends Medwere is a town of peace, an area of tranquillity and its people historically are pacifists. They are not cowards or traitors but idealists. I tell thee of this now as I believe it will crucial in the days ahead. Do not be so quick to judge or dismiss, for it takes a man much freedom of will to choose a course such as this, as committed a man as would charge a tower with but sword and shield." "What relevance is this, no war is brought on Vedian, no battle is to be waged here. I do not understand your reasoning or trust in the words of idle bards and folk tellers." Durgal shook his head and looked to Madistrin to confirm his words. "Do not be so quick my friend, Redwick perhaps has more understanding of events than yourself in this matter." Madistrin locked his gaze on the Earl of Coralis, "These are though perplexing matters you tell of, I had long thought the people of Medwere to be different but I had thought it due to the distant location and geographical nuances of Coralis. I can not decide if news you bring is good or ill, so I will not pass further comment at this time, continue please Redwick". "As you know, the University of Coralis is now home to San Pollan a man of dubious morality but a political fox. He has risen sharply in the scholatic and heads the learning of Perennial philosophy now. He is allied to Shel-Toro that is of no doubt to me and his word is law in Medwere. I have challenged him on many issues of late but his cunning eludes me, I fear I never was a good politician. He takes with one hand from the people and gives with another, he offers trinkets while he removes liberty. The militia that guards Medwere is now reduced to two battalions, neither of them from Pluris, rather new recruits brought up from the Lough." Madistrin nodded, he had been made aware of these developments from his Captain many months ago and had not moved to challenge them. He grimaced at his earlier errors in judgement. "A conspiracy this does not make, I would admit, yet it is in the philosophy of San Pollan and his master that I most fear. For they believe in balance, to the finite. Medwere therefore is in great contrast to this if you would believe my earlier words, we are a thorn in the side of the new scholatic. A people that would make its own choice, I believe San Pollan knows of our history and plots to address the future of Medwere's freedom." Durgal looked aghast at the Earl, "These are hasty words surely! I would be party to caution although I have no love for the lore masters myself, yet you talk of plots and schemes, I say once more I would hold you to caution." An air of uncomfortable silence held the room for a few brief seconds before Madistrain spoke, "My friends I fear I have put the whole of Vedian at risk through by selfish actions, I believed that in living out my life as best I could, not challenging for the right of CrownPrince in earnest, I would serve Vedian well. Yet this is but a falsehood. A simple lie I have let myself believe over the years, I thought my dear brother to be the rightful King of Vedian and so it should have been. I never looked to fill the gaping hole he had left, rather leaving our country to the whim of the scholatic, for a time I saw no wrong in that course, for men like DeFache are honourable and trustworthy. Years have now passed since that fateful day and I see a country full of fear and dishonour, the scholatic are no longer men of good faith, they are politicians at best and tyrannical at worst!" Madistrin had stood up and was gestating graphically to the other men, "I have laid quiet and timid as the walls of oppression have closed in on our people, I have done no honour to my brother or to my name and least of all to Vedian herself." Madistrin looked at Durgal, the stonemaster's eyes were like huge bowls starring back at him in disbelief. "I am sorry my friend, you know little of what I would tell you and I would not alienate you here. It is true that the time for friendships of old will soon be nearing, we will rely on the deeds we have done to serve us here in the present. Let us hope we have made stronger friends than enemies." A knock tapped on the door of the chamber, startling all within. Madistrain calmed himself and sat before calling entry. The door opened and Parran Dre’Jan stood walked slowly through, he bowed to all three individually, "I am sorry for the intrusion my liege but I would speak with you on a matter of urgency." "Then speak here Captain, there is nothing to be told that these men can not hear. I see concern on your brow, tell me of your urgency." Parran recounted his meeting with his Lieutenant, soon after they had met at the barracks. He told the three of changes to the Pluris militia, even personnel within his own company that had been signed off without his consultation. " My lieutenant also informs me that the watch has identified a crop of mercenaries moving through the town. Dangerous men usually encountered in three and four's at worst, yet I am told that over a hundred such men have been spotted in the last two weeks. There is also talk...." Parran tailed off. Durgal quizzed the Captain further, "Of what man, speak your mind." Parran eyed the stonemason with precision, "I would not say, for I do not believe in gossip and rumour. Yet I feel I would have you informed rather than in the dark. There is talk of treason in the royal household. I can gather no definite information and the source is unknown but it is said that laws have been broken and even tell of a council hearing, although I have heard no names mentioned specifically. I would say to you that I am unnerved by these events, I can not explain it but I feel though law is breaking down at the very heart of our town. The barracks today and even on the quiet streets, it has the stench of disorder about it. I would lay claim, that the disorder is not of a natural making but something that is being fed." Durgal grasped his head with both hands, "What day of dark tidings is this. I would rather walk through the forests of malevolence unaided then spend another sunset listening to these harsh tales. I came to Pluris to talk of concerns and worries, I thought that your calling was strangely timed, yet never did I think these ills would be set upon me." Madistrain motioned to his Captain, "Draw a seat Parran, stay awhile, we have much to discuss. I will still my hand no longer, these words of yours are the final confirmation for me. I fear the trap is already being laid and the course we are to tread had perhaps been walked by our enemies in advance, nonetheless I will take us down it, to its conclusion. We must take urgent action, to tarry would be to concede defeat and I will not do that again. I would look now for two things, Loyalty and courage. Parran, find me those men and those men alone. I do not wish to involve others that do not bestow those virtues. Find those men and send them out to the borders of our land, we must know the scale of the opposition, mercenaries, curs and thieves perhaps but I believe there will be found organisation and planning as well. Seek it out and report to me at the Sanctuary of Bridges. For I would go now with great haste to seek out DeFache, he will help, he maybe the only one that can. Durgal I am deeply sorry my friend but I would ask a further task of you. Whatever connection or power you have, stall the blacksmiths work, cut off the supply to our enemies for I no longer doubt now, that is what it is. I would ask you to be careful if you take this charge the days ahead will be hard for all of us." Durgal's mind was whirling inside, he could not take in the chain of events at the pace they had happened, yet his respect for Madistrain was considerable and at heart the prince had known one thing, he was a good man. "I will do what I can or what I may. The charge I will take and return to Asten though I have no idea how to carry it out." A grin crossed the big mans face, "But then a man does not grow this fat and wealthy without learning the odd trick or two. I will find a way." Madistrain smiled back, "And for that my friend I am already in your debt." he turned now to Redwick, "In many ways Earl your words troubled me most of all, it is because of that I would seek out DeFache. Of yourself I would ask nothing of war as I know it is not your way, but a time may come soon, when you may need to stand, prepare for it and stay close to Parran for when he has gathered his men, I would ask him to escort you to Medwere." Parran interjected quickly, "But my liege, surely I must travel at your side to the Island, I am your protector." "Yes and much more than that. For this time though, I ask you do not question my actions. Your loyalty is unquestionable and does your name much honour. Now let us all rest and go about our deeds swiftly on the morrow. The great wars, saw Vedian invaded by a foe of might and power, so it is told, but the struggle that is coming will pitch countryman against countryman. It will threaten to tear the fabric of our society to pieces, stay true to ourselves and we will hold as one." "As one." Parran replied. |
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As the third dawn rose since they had fled Bannermane, a lighter mood began to
fall on the party. The past two days they had marched at a swift pace, never
once hearing sound of followers but always tense with the listening.
Conversation had been limited and the bleak foothills of the North offered scant
attraction to turn their thoughts from Rundell's demise. More often than not,
they had walked in single file, occasionally grouping to discuss distances
travelled and onward directions.
At all times Arn kept them within distance of the Northern coast, always farther inland to avoid easy detection but close enough to ensure their direction was true. He knew the city of Asten was not a coastal port but his discussions with Rundell at the Inn had confirmed it was within half a league at most. He would watch for grazing land or livestock as a sign that they were approaching and look for the Asten to Pluris road from there. Joseph's mind wandered to the more mundane issue of supplies, scant time had been given to organise food or water and all the packs had run dry the night before. There had been no rivers or creeks to restock from and though the weather was less heated then the Luff it was still a dry air that left a parched feeling. He wondered what waited for them in Asten, they had not discussed what to do next. Should they return to the Luff? His thoughts were interrupted by Speck, who had ambled up to his walking pace. "We can not go back Joseph. The road leads to Asten and we must still deliver the book." "How did you know, what I was thinking." Joseph replied. "We are all thinking it my friend. I am hungry, thirsty and I would walk through the forests themselves if a hot bath were at its end. Yet we must press on, the Luff itself may not be a haven for us any longer and I fancy Febra would be against any change in our course." The young man glanced backwards at the girl trailing behind. "She is of a mind to finish what we begun and Arn would seek to discover more of our enemy I feel. Too many unfinished issues surround us now." "And you young Speck", Joseph smiled, "Why would you carry on with such a task?" "For all of those reasons I suppose, I am frightened Joseph, I would admit that to you. And yet I would see Asten for myself, Rundell said it was a city of knowledge and learning a fair place where we could find men of honour. That in itself is a reason to continue and let us not forget payment on delivery. I did not come all this way for my health!" Joseph laughed and it felt good. Arn motioned to the others to gather, "The terrain is changing, there is grazingland to the north-west for hunting", he pointed upwards to an open grassland, Joseph could just see movement of animals in the distance. "We will follow to the South and all being fair, should connect with the road in a short time. The journey is coming to an end but this is not a time for complacency. If we enter via the road it will be watched, therefore we shall split into the groups of two and stagger our arrival. If any ask we are merchants seeking to buy from the market. All towns like traders so our passage should be safe. I will go with Febra first, Joseph and Speck follow in after, we will meet up at a central point, perhaps an Inn or the market." Febra interjected, "The instructions were from Ian at Bannermane to take the item straight to the University, let us not delay its delivery." Arn nodded, "Yes if the book is the issue then we will be safer once it is delivered safely, I agree. The university it is, we will take cover outside its walls and wait for you there." By the middle of the day they were upon the road and signs of life could be seen, merchants with carts travelling up from the Pluris South and farmers working crops and livestock to the North. The bustle increased in all directions as Arn drew them to a halt and motioned for Joseph and Speck to wait. "Good luck my friends", Arn waved and smiled warmly, "Stay quiet and try not to engage anyone in conversation, if you have to exchange pleasantries do so but be cautious not to mention anything to do with our journey and on all counts do not give mention to the artefact." The pair began the short journey North towards the town entrance, the sound of voices ahead became increasingly audible as the pair walked on the dusty road. Febra's right hand rested on her belt, constantly tapping the hilt of her dagger that rested within. She wished now for this journey to be over and the quest performed, in all the happenings that had befallen them since the Luff, her mind had never truly wandered from her true goal. And yet the trek had not proved unsuccessful despite its arduous nature. She had learned much of her companions, their driving forces and their wills. They would prove useful once they reached Tantagel, the question flowing through her mind was now simply how to get them there. Arn turned to whisper in the girl's ear, "We are merchant's from Pluris, looking to purchase from market, skins and wool’s I think. The hunting forage looks fair as we passed the greenlands." Febra snapped back at the hunter, "You need not treat me as you do the others, I am well aware of how to lie. I am not your child to protect huntsman, just ensure you do not let slip any other snippets of our journey, you more than I possess a wandering tongue." Arn walked on silently, the girl had a way that could make a man feel very small, perhaps because she was right in her summary. Arn was prone to talking and he knew he would need now a cautious approach, he nodded to a passing townsman, smiling genially. They entered into the foot of Asten and looked upon the sprawling buildings that sprung up from its widening road. Arn had never experienced such a cacophony of shapes and sizes, people milling in doorways, buying and selling. To their left a Inn of at least three stories towered over them threatening to block out the sun itself. A sign hung from an iron hook, revealing the name of the abode to be 'The Journeyman's". It was crafted beautifully in bright colours and hues and depicted a sole traveller bearing a long crook, standing upon the road with a hot sun upon his back. As his gaze stuck upon the picture he failed to see a man of indefinite girth wander into his line. "Watch it fool!" The man grunted as he barged into Arn's shoulder, "This aint no place for sightseeing, get off the road before you come to 'arm." Arn moved aside and held his hands up to his chest, palms wide open, "I am sorry sir, I was just admiring the majesty of the place, I apologise for my clumsiness." The large man was dressed in merchant garb and pulled a small handcart behind him laden with foodstuffs. "The only majesty I know off, lies in Pluris but if you think there is some 'ere then a stranger or fool you be." The man ambled further on the road, huffing and puffing as he dragged the heavy cart. Febra looked at Arn, who stood still, slightly shocked by the event. "Well done huntsman, ten steps into the town and already you reveal yourself. The fat man was right, now watch the road and let me do the talking." Febra strode forward purposefully towards the doorway of the Inn, checking only briefly to ensure Arn was following. She waved away tinkers and sellers that crowded outside the doorway, touting for business as she pushed open the thick door. The size of the interior left anything the Luff could offer at shame. Tall lanterns burned from every wall, lighting the rectangle shaped room which ceiling stood at least three times Febra's height. Tables where strewn all over the area, small stone stools placed about them in no fashionable order. Most were taken and the place itself brimmed with activity. Febra cast her eye over the clientele, the Inn seemed to be as it name suggested mainly full of merchants or travellers, some clutching their wares to them and suspiciously eyeing those that sat within close proximity, others drinking and talking but without the light hearted feel that The Luff always had. The air seemed a little thicker here somehow, Febra shook her head and put it down to the North climate, making a line directly for the long bar that stood at the rear of the Inn. She pushed past a pair of local types, conspiratorially whispering together, eyebrows raising as the girl followed closely by the huntsman drew up to the bar and hastened for refreshments. The keeper was a slim and wiry man, of undisernable age. From his bottom lip, hung on a precipice a pipe carved after his own image, long and with a brittle look. A tiny wisp of smoke would occasionally appear as if to confirm its fire still burned. As asked he delivered to mugs of mead to the pair and Febra paid him with the little that still remained from the original payment. "Market good today?" the girl enquired of the keeper. The man eyed her for a moment, "So I believe, the talk is of ore from the South a large load and our first for some days, there was quite a bustle this morn, with the smithies arguing over availability’s and quota's." "Why the wait, is there a issue with the mining?" Febra kept the conversation ticking along, careful not to ask her question too early and arouse any suspicion. "Nay, it is the thieving robbers that leave us dry. The Pluris to Asten road is awash with the dregs of our society, looking to steal an easy wage rather than earn it. The previous two caravans were set upon, murdered would you believe, miners and merchants, shameful days. A man is not safe to ply an honest trade and what do we hear from Pluris, not enough resources, fully stretched manpower, ‘tis a joke and not one to smile at." The keeper continued to chat and talk of the current state of order on and about Asten and of stories that came up from Pluris. Arn bent over to whisper at Febra, "We shall be here all day, if you let him carry on." Febra raised her hand for the keeper to top up the mugs, which he did and waived away request for payment, he enjoyed talking and this one clearly had not heard much of his content. As he paused in between breaths Febra finally interjected, "Does the university not intervene in these issues, for I hear that Asten has a prominent hall with many learned talkers." "In many ways that would be the problem, too much talk, action on the other hand is in short supply. There was a man, a senior body at the hall, yet he is old now and rarely seen by the common folk. Gru-Staedek a well known and kindly respected man by all, he would give the locals here the time of day, more so then many that walk in those walls. He came in here more than once, talking with travellers and merchants, a quiet man, a listener but fair and paid a pretty tip, that I do remember." "The University is near?" Febra mused careful not to imply it as to direct a question. "Oh aye, a mere amble up the north road to market centre and then just north and west past the House Of Histevirrillm. Now there is a place to visit, if one needs arms, you sir," he motioned over Febra to Arn, "you strike me as the outdoor type, take me advice and stop by the house, I 'ave ad men in here say no finer hunting tools in the land." "I thank you for your sage advice keeper and I will take you up on the thought now. We appreciate your hospitality." The man looked a little disappointed as they quickly downed their remaining mead and once again thanked him for his time. They left swiftly, pushing past the crowd that had grown since their arrival, leaving they quickly returned to the main road and walked North to the market centre, the day no longer in its infancy, had grown hotter and little or any breeze blew up from the coast. The market itself was a fascinating sight, small tents and carts parked in a huge circle around the centre, many doing brisk trade. In the middle around a large fountain which pumped water from the base statue of a man, dressed in the garb of a soldier or armsman, stood many entertainers. Animal tamers, jugglers and tellers of tales, plied there own trades to the applause of the surrounding audience. The pair wandered up through the throng to look upon the carving on the statue. "What does it say Speck?" Joseph asked his friend, not too loudly. While he did not doubt, reading may be looked on somewhat more friendly in a large town like Asten, he was still uncomfortable to derive any more attention from those around than was needed. The young man, pouted his lips and peered down at the writings, "It appears to be nobody and everybody," he paused a moment to ponder further, "yes, I see, it is a tribute to those whom died in battle, long ago by the looks of it. It is meant to be representative of all but not to any individual likeness. Speck pointed his friend to look upon the face. "You see the lack of features, it is purposeful I suspect. Yet we digress from the matter at hand, perhaps once this matter is dealt we shall have a little time to inspect Asten further." Joseph nodded in agreement, "Aye, it is a fine place to look upon and many differences from the Luff. Now that old man, you asked suggested we travelled the north east path, a little tight he said but much wider at the top, we should push on and meet with the others." They moved past the crowd and the sounds of talk and banter died away as they approached the small path, it was narrow to the feel as the houses and buildings some to lean over to meet one another and it blocked out the natural light ahead. "It does not appear over inviting, yet if Febra and Arn can make the journey then we shall too." Speck took the lead and the two wandered at a brisk pace down the cobbled path, a heightened smell surrounded the buildings and the pair begun to feel they were not in the most savoury parts Asten had to offer. At various points a tiny alleyway would spike off the main path and they would hardly be able to see a few paces before it was plunged into darkness. They pressed on without talking but their pace increased, as they reached another incrop in the road, a figure stepped out to block the path, it was difficult to even make him out in the poor light but he was dressed raggedly and his face was marked with scars. As they paused to see the man's next move another figure appeared from one of the buildings, it happened so quickly they could not tell from where, a doorway or window perhaps, and then another from behind and a fourth and fifth from the alleyway the first figure had arrived. Finally they stood surrounded by six and for the all the fear that fell down on the pair at that moment, Speck's first thought was to the book. As the last light from the day feel across the easterly windows of Asten University, a knock came at the study door. A young man entered, a youthful appearance sullied somewhat by the drab grey robes he wore about his person. He settled the tray down upon the hard wood desk, careful to not disturb any of the parchments scattered on its surface. He waited for some sign from the elder seated that his duty was done, the elder scribbled furiously only pausing occasionally from his task to dab the fine writing implement into a shallow well cut into the tabletop. Eventually he seemed to notice another person in his vancinity and waved a hand casually without turning from his work."Good 'even to you Prominence Lamentor." He spoke softly and closed the door quietly behind him. Lamentor placed the writing tool down on the edge of the table, it rolled slightly, finally coming to rest on a natural ridge. An audible sigh came from his lips as he dropped back into his chair and reached for the mug that had been delivered moments before. He drank hot water, flavoured with the grasses that grew on the Medwere plains. It was a traditional beverage for most scholatic, preferable to anything alcohol based or containing stimulants. It was refreshing and widely believed to aid clarity of thought. The waters in the mug ebbed and flowed toward the rim, his right hand shaking slightly as his thoughts turned to the matter at hand. He thought back to all those weeks ago that the first news had come to his attention. There was no doubt in his own mind that archaeologists were of a lower station that scholars such as himself, nonetheless he was astute enough not to remove all contact from their station. Many of his brethren would have no communication with those outside the borders of the university and to all intents that would be wise council. Lamentor though had found his place in the scholatic not through prowess or agility of mind but through cunning and guile. He had known early in, even as far back as his original Pulpit debates, that he could not hope to join the illuminaries of the scholatic, he even feared being thrown out at inception and facing the same fate as the rabble at Bannermane. So he had found other ways to hold his position of office, he provided favours, sought of gifts and tokens for those that needed them. His eyes turned to the bookshelf below the window, a thick wondrously bound volume titled, "The Neutrality Of Discovery". He smiled to himself, he did not have to look at the author to know it was written by DeFache. Lamentor had realised for a long time that the scholatic were not neutral but competitive to the core. They sought to out do and out think within the borders of their own houses or between university's as a whole. There were a few of course, who couldn't be swayed, fools like DeFache and Gru-Staedek but most could and he had profited well in his calling. He knew Karl, a naive man at best and an irritant at worst, how many hours had he spent having to listen the drivel of historical significance, waiting to gather information on items and artefacts. This time it had paid the highest of dividends, he had received a message two months ago from the archaeologist asking him to visit Bannermane on urgent business. He had cursed the thought of an another spent amongst the ignorant but the letters content had intrigued him enough to set off with some haste. On arrival he had been bored rigid for an evening in the accursed drinking hole that stood for a tavern, hardly managing to get in a word as Karl raved of his finding. A book of lore dating back to the days of MonPellia himself, clearly a finding of magnitude and immediately he had set about agreeing price and package for its delivery. He had taken caution not to remove the item himself, careful to ensure word did not get back to the council. Instead he decided to send quest to a small village for its proper arrival at Asten Taran. He had thought that there would be less publicity in such a small village and minds taking on the task so inept that there would be few if any questions asked. The problem that concerned him now was the length of time elapsed since agreement. Could his envoy's have been so ill equipped to have been taken on the road by thieves or so shallow of cerebral matter that they could not find there way. He cursed his original decision, bringing a fleshy fist down onto the hard wood, the writing tool dislodged from its post, rolled over the ridge and dropped to the floor. He had planned to sell the book to a Prominence in the Gan Taran, collecting much favour and a pretty sum but now word had reached him at Asten that the council had become aware of the artefact and planned to take possession. The matter had taken a new turn and he was not one to court with either danger or the wrath of Shel-Toro. If it was lost he would be clearly out of pocket and still there was the danger of the archaeologist telling of his agreement and visit, no he would claim it and present to the council. He would declare he sought to out to ensure it found a secure return to its rightful place. There would some favour to be courted even at this late stage. He smiled again, perhaps he would even be awarded with a seat on the council, now that was a prize worth considering. Arn continued to pace up and down the lush grasses that bordered the university gardens. For a time they had waited at the rear of the area, cautious to stay hidden from wandering eyes but dusk had fallen on Asten and they had become concerned that there was yet no sight of their compatriots. Febra sat leaning against the metal railings that penned in the university grounds, her knees pulled tightly up to her chest, head bowed down in reverence to the darkness. The building itself was a wondrous construction, levelling four stories and covering an area that could house the whole of the market at Kearn Luff. It was built of coarse stone, smoothed with a type of limestone they had never seen before and adorned with windows. Often figures could be seen passing in the candlelight within, shuffling from room to room, going about their daily chores. The gardens themselves were as beautiful and wholesome as any they had laid eyes upon, herbs and flowers carefully were groomed in symmetrical patterns. Organised in beds of six and eight, creating a maze of walkways that all led to a central podium. It was set within a circle of tightly cut grass, rising up to the second level of the building and housed on a marble podium. The statue itself seemed to shine even in the darkness, a polished veneer that did not give itself to any material they had witnessed. The strange parody of a stone tree in the center of a garden so verdant with live was at once disturbing and also thought provoking.
Arn turned again, stopping in front of the girl.
The scarred figure moved closer to Joseph, allowing enough of his face to be illuminated by
the little light that fell into the alleyway. He was no older than either Speck or Joseph but
with harder features made worse by the marks that crossed his forehead and left cheek. At a
closer glance Joseph could make them out to be scorch marks, blistered but cold with age.
The young man addressed the pair,
Calan turned to the pair. |