Armies of the Silver Mage (3 page)

“What are you two being all secretive about?” asked a sweet voice.

Delin blushed, much to his friend’s amusement. “Nothing Tarren. We were just talking about work and the like.”

“I’ll bet,” she replied. The twinkle in her eyes suggested otherwise. “More like two young boys plotting mischief.”

“Miss Brickton, I’m shocked you’d even suggest such!” Fennic announced in mock surprise.

Tarren giggled and joined them. “Well don’t let a silly girl stop you. I’m off duty now and don’t plan on leaving until I get to the bottom of this scandal.”

The boys exchanged wary looks. It was going to be a long night.

Tarren began drumming her fingers on the table. “I can wait just as long as you.”

“We weren’t talking about anything,” Delin insisted.

She knew better. The game went on for a while, the boys doing everything they could to avoid her questions. Truth be known, Delin was still too unsure of what he wanted to do. He’d always been the one to want to see the world, but he had lacked the initiative to do anything about it. Fennic’s willingness to pick up and leave came as a shock. Winter promised to arrive early, making this a bad time to try and fulfill any dream of glory. His defense for the sudden weakness was the solace of Tarren’s beauty. She was the same age as them, and had grown up next to them since her parents had moved to the village twelve years ago.

Delin quickly became enthralled with her. Everything about her enchanted him. Her smile, the way her golden eyes warmed him on a winter night. What he enjoyed most was the way she made him feel. There was completeness whenever they were together. He didn’t know how to explain it, but every part of him wanted to be with her.

She had rich, dark hair that flowed well past her shoulders. Her body was trim and supple in all the right places, perfect in its youth and health. Not only was she pleasant to look at, as were most girls her age, she was by far the smartest girl Delin knew. Her parents owned and ran the tavern, making them some of the most popular folk in town. They had been able to afford a private tutor all the way from Paedwyn to ensure their children had the very best education possible. Tarren was the youngest of three daughters and the only one to show a genuine interest in the earnings and day to day business of the tavern. She already had designs to add a small wing for weary travelers to rest. The only problem with this plan was the lack of travelers in Fel Darrins. Few people bothered coming so far off the main roads.

Tarren brushed a shining locket of hair from her face and Delin fell in love with her all over again. Her eyes were brilliant amber. She had high cheekbones, lending her an air or regality. The way her hair framed her smooth, tan face was melting his heart. She wore a green dress that, while simple and modest, betrayed a curvy, strong body. Delin couldn’t help but stare.

“Like what you see?” she giggled.

He gulped in embarrassment. Fennic burst out with laughter.

“I’d say that was a yes,” he confirmed. The whole village knew about their unspoken romance.

A punch in the shoulder was Delin’s answer. Tarren saw her opening.

“If you like it that much,” she soothed, reaching a hand out to touch him, “perhaps you can tell me what you were talking about?”

Delin had finally reached his breaking point. He opened his mouth to speak when a sudden commotion saved him from giving it all away. Three hunters burst into the common room and headed straight to the bar. They wore the usual leathers and furs marking their trade, but something about them was different. Their beards, normally blond and brown, were coated in a black substance, as were their clothes. Their sudden arrival sent ripples through the gossipy crowd. Conversations spread from table to table. Gilley Brickton came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel.

“Can I help you?” he asked with his deep, rumbling voice.

Gilley was a strong and proud man with little fear. He was just as gentle as his wife, despite his burly features and menacing appearance. Folk often complimented him on his willingness to hear them out when times were rough.

The lead hunter dropped his coins on the bar and said, “Ale. Three of the strongest.”

Gilley nodded. “Rough day?”

“Aye,” the hunter answered. “We were out hunting near Ellif Pond.”

“Out by old man Wiffe’s?” Gilley asked.

“Not anymore,” the man on the far end said in a hushed voice.

A dozen heads turned towards them.

“How do you mean?”

“We’d come out on the far side of the pond just past noon. Was on the trail of a herd of black deer. Hadn’t seen anything but tracks so we kept moving. Nith here was the first to smell the smoke. By the time we made to the clearing, we could see the ruins of a cottage. There wasn’t nothing left but half a chimney and some scorched stones. A couple of skeletons lay out front. One was a dog and the other a man with just one arm.”

“Old man Wiffe,” Gilley announced with a stunned voice.

Rumors were already spreading. Wiffe was considered unfriendly and eccentric by some, but was generally known to be harmless. To think someone could kill the old man so malevolently was bound to change life in Fel Darrins.

“We’re thinking he was robed first. That’s about the only reason I can think to kill him,” the hunter explained with a casual coldness. “Aside from that, I’d say whoever done it was looking for something.”

Gilley’s eyes fell on Delin and the others. The boys had heard every word and sat mortified. They’d been to Wiffe’s scant weeks ago and now he was dead. Neither had much concern until the hunter mentioned a search. It was all Fennic could do to keep from going in to a panic. Phaelor! The killers were after the star silver sword. There was no doubt about it. And if they’d gone out of their way to Wiffe’s to look for it, he was sure he and Delin weren’t safe here in Fel Darrins. All of the dreams of adventure suddenly seemed like a sick fantasy. He had to get away. He had to leave before Wiffe’s fate befell his family.

FOUR

The world transformed into a dangerous place in just three short weeks. The village council sent a party out to the ruins of Old Man Wiffe’s in the hopes of learning what had happened. The only thing they could decide on was that the hermit was indeed murdered. No one knew what the killers had been looking for, or even if there was a reason for the crime. So the townsfolk gathered to bury him and his beloved dog in the peaceful clearing he loved the most. A quick prayer was mumbled over the small cairn and the people of Fel Darrins went home to ponder this sudden turn of events.

For Fennic, life was growing increasingly more miserable. They’d managed to avoid telling Tarren their developing plans and the involvement with Wiffe, if just barely, but his dilemma was tenfold. The death of Old Man Wiffe hit him hard, sparking apprehension and latent fears. He spent long nights awake wondering if the killers had been looking for the sword, and if they were now coming after him. Day by day he grew more convinced it was time to leave Fel Darrins.

Perhaps the worst part came from not being able to tell anyone his concerns. A magical sword. Who would believe such an outlandish story? He knew he wouldn’t if he hadn’t been there himself. Fennic knew in his heart that Phaelor lay at the body of this mess. He secretly began packing to leave before the same murderers found his family and did the same. He had no idea where to go, or how long it was going to take to get there, but he couldn’t let harm come to everyone he knew. Even if Delin decided not to come, Fennic was leaving home. Hopefully the town of Alloenis wasn’t too far of a march.

The upside to everything happening was the weather. A series of heavy thunderstorms had blown through taking the summer heat and humidity and leaving Autumn wet, but not cold. It was perfect for traveling. Fennic sighed whenever he thought of Delin and Tarren. Their love was obvious, and had been for years. Even if neither really knew it. Fennic saw the pained look on her face every time she spied them talking quietly. As much as he wanted Delin to go with him, he wasn’t willing to steal his best friend away from his life and love. Then again, Delin had been to the old man’s house as well and that made him just as much of a target as Fennic was.

His other concern was the sword itself. Wiffe never explained anything about it. He merely said the sword picked and chose who was going to bear it. As it was, Fennic knew nothing about swords. Maybe someone in Alloenis could help, or an Elf. They were the ones who created it after all. If not Alloenis, then perhaps one of the king’s vaunted advisors would know in Paedwyn, the grand capital of Averon.

Another day came and went, rising tensions coming hand in hand. Messengers were riding through much more than ever before, stopping just long enough to tend their mounts and spread the word to the cautious. War was coming to Averon! The Silver Mage was raising great armies in the east and King Maelor was hard pressed to gather levies from all territories. The Elves were keeping silent, unwilling to commit to another of Man’s wars. No word had yet returned from the Dwarves. All signs pointed towards Averon standing alone.

Tipper’s tavern was abuzz with rumors, dark and bright. A small group of men were assembling to march for Paedwyn and the armies. Their deeds would make the high and mighty of the world remember the name Fel Darrins again. Most were single, slightly older than Delin and Fennic. A few married men were involved, but the majority weren’t willing to leave their families unprotected for an extended period. Especially after what had happened to Old Man Wiffe. The council ordered the formation of a local militia to further protect the village.

Tarren greeted Fennic with her usual charm and grace. He responded in kind and followed her to a table away from everyone else. He couldn’t help but think how lucky a man Delin was. The evening crowds hadn’t begun arriving yet, and that suited him just fine. What he had to say was only for her ears. A messenger dressed in green and gold, the royal colors of the court at Paedwyn, sat off to himself, finishing an early supper so he could be on the road again before dusk.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Tarren asked.

Fennic was confused and made no effort to conceal it.

Seeing the look on his face, she quickly added, “his uniform I mean. So formal and important. I think Delin would be splendid dressed so.”

“He probably would,” Fennic absently answered.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t been the same since Wiffe was found dead.”

He shrugged, hoping she would take the hint and leave the subject alone. “Have you ever felt that events are moving too fast? Like you don’t have any control over what’s going to happen from one day to the next?”

She slipped a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Lately I have, but I know you Fennic Attleford. There’s more to your troubles than current events. Who can you tell if not me? I’m one of your closest friends and you know I’m not going to tell anyone else.”

“I know, but it’s hard even for me to believe,” he told her. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same again.”

He went on to tell her the important parts of his story, leaving out a few details here and there. After all, he didn’t want her to go running to Delin to convince him not to come. She sat quietly and listened to everything, not quite believing some of it. But these doubts she kept to herself, for Delin would tell her what really happened. He never lied to her. Talk of the sword aroused a desire in her, and for the briefest of moments she wanted to see this magical item. She’d been daydreaming of the sword when Fennic told her his plans to leave.

Her mind reeled from the shock of the simple statement. Leaving? Fennic and Delin? No. Delin wouldn’t leave her. He couldn’t. There were so many things they had yet to do together. She hadn’t even told him she loved him yet and here he was planning on sneaking away in the middle of the night. That alone infuriated her beyond belief. She had a mind to march out and find Delin Kerny and give him a piece of her mind. The look on Fennic’s face stopped her.

“I don’t want him to come with me. I really don’t. I see the way you two look at each other. The happiness it gives him when you smile. The last thing I want to do is take him away from you,” he told her with genuine concern.

Her heart jumped to her throat. “But?”

Tarren felt her stomach twist into knots as he told her his fears about something evil happening to their families. Bloody visions went by so fast she felt she was going to vomit. Unseen assassins running wild through Fel Darrins in search of a mystical sword and uncaring how they gained it was enough to keep her dreams tormented. Nothing bad had happened in this village since she and her parents had moved here, and decades before that. Tarren suddenly found herself wanting to sneak away and hide.

He saw the look in her eyes and felt his pain deepen. “No. It’s not going to be safe for us here anymore.”

“Safe?” she asked. “What makes you think anyone here is going to be safe once you leave? Whoever stays is in just as much danger as you are. You said it yourself, no one outside of the three of us knows about the sword. I’m assuming that whoever is looking for it doesn’t. That puts every last one us at risk, Fennic.”

Her emphasis on the word “they” sent shivers down his spine. Maybe his fears wouldn’t be so grave if he knew who “they” were.

“The militia guards the streets at night and I doubt anyone looking for the sword will bother tangling with a bunch of angry family men. Besides, we’ll be long gone before they even come looking for us.”

That, she doubted. “How do you know they aren’t already here waiting?”

He was about to answer when the king’s messenger got up and left. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Fennic found a new hope. The king’s man offered a nod and was gone. Tarren knew her arguments were finished. Her only hope lay in Delin’s swift and safe return.

“When are you planning on leaving?” she conceded.

“Tomorrow night,” Fennic admitted. “I hope the weather stays the way it is. It will make traveling easier.”

Their conversation continued for a while longer, though she offered little. Her mind was racing ahead with future events and possibilities. There was much she needed to do before tomorrow night arrived.