Fool's Errand (23 page)

Melizar perused the streets of the commerce district. Aside from a strange look or two from a few of the merchants, Melizar’s robed and hooded appearance seemed to be unremarkable to most of the vendors. They apparently were accustomed to caravans filled with strange visitors dropping in. In fact, due to the shortage of caravans recently, many of the merchants were eager to make a sale, and Melizar was able to take advantage of the shortage of customers to strike some excellent bargains.

The Durgak merchants hemmed and hawed and talked about how he was taking the food out of the mouths of their children asking for such low prices, but in the end, Melizar knew that they would not sell him anything unless they could make a profit, and almost always they eventually gave Melizar the price he was looking for.

The sun had long set before shadowy mage completed his purchases and began winding his way toward the manor house. As he rounded one corner, he spotted something odd down a darkened alley. The darkness of the alley would have obscured the happenings from any prying eyes, except for one with the eyes of a D’zarik.

A large figure was speaking with a sneaky-looking gray-furred Fenratu. The frame of the man would have identified him immediately even to one who could only see his silhouette, but Melizar’s impeccable night vision saw clearly the man was Xyer Garan.

 Before Melizar could pull out the components for a far-hearing spell, the two concluded their discussions, and with a cautious look around them, the Fenratu left, heading west. Garan crept carefully out of the alley and, after making sure he wasn’t spotted, set off in the direction of the manor house. Melizar’s place in the shadows and dark robes had kept him hidden from Garan’s sight. After giving the Cyrian a few minutes head start, Melizar resumed his own trek back to their quarters for the night.

It was the wee hours of the morning before Duncan awoke to the sounds of Goldain and Thatcher finally stumbling into the manor house. While Goldain likely expected the coming effects of the next morning, young Thatcher would be nearly incapacitated by the hangover heading his way.

Duncan chose to show the mercy of the One Lord to his companions, and as soon as they were asleep on their bunks, he crept up to their bunks and used a special healing
oth,
which would remove the alcohol from their systems and leave them sober and pain-free in the morning. He did not begrudge them their revelry, but Duncan knew everyone would need to be at their best starting tomorrow in preparation for whatever lie ahead.

Doubtless with the help of Duncan’s healing
oth,
Goldain and Thatcher awoke early.

“I’ve never woken after a night of hearty drinking with such a clear and pain-free head,” Goldain marveled.

“Maybe there is something magical in the Mountain Spring’s ale,” Thatcher mused.

“No, kid, I promise you something is amiss. Durgak ale will deliver a hangover as stout and unshakable as any Durgak warrior.”

“Let me settle your minds, lads,” Duncan replied. “It was I who used healing
oth
to settle your heads while you slept last night.”

“For that,” Goldain smiled, “I am sincerely grateful. You know, that’s a useful talent. I might want to have you around next time a festive celebration draws nigh.”

“I’m afraid this was a necessary mercy,” Duncan answered. “I promise, however, that once this mission is over, if you want to experience the fullness of Durgak ale in all its glory, I won’t rob you again of the Dragon of the Morning.”

That was the phrase the Durgak used to speak of the after-effects of too much Durgak ale.

“By the use of that term,” Thatcher replied, “it sounds like something I would just as soon miss. I think this is the last time I let Goldain talk me into such foolishness again.”

“Want to wager on that promise, kid?” Goldain quipped.

Captain Tropham and the troops readied themselves and assembled the wagons. When the company was ready to depart, Duncan led them toward the west gate. Bardrick was still a grump for the first few hours of the morning, but Jeslyn had gotten much better at fighting through her resistance to waking up, and she looked ready and chipper for the journey.

As they did a final check of the provisions of the wagons, up marched Donovan and twenty fierce-looking Durgak berserkers with their beards forked and braided and with fire in their eyes. To either side of Donovan walked two unexpected companions—Field Marshal Bonecrusher, who had come to see them off and a female silver and black Fenratu in chainmail with a longsword swinging at her hip and a longbow in her hand.

As the leaders approached, Duncan saw the hairs on the back of Arreya’s neck stand up and her tail begin to twitch. A low growl emerged from the Fenratu and was answered by a menacing hiss from Arreya.

“What is this?” she exhorted.

“Ah,” Donovan answered, “let me introduce you all to the Third Berserker Company’s best scout and tracker, Sable. Sable has served with us for two years, and I convinced Field Marshal Bonecrusher to allow us to bring her along as her tracking and scouting skills will come in handy for sure.”

“But we already have a scout—me!” snapped Arreya.

Since Arreya had not been present at the council, Donovan was obviously unaware they already had a scout and figured one was needed. Duncan saw the tensions rising and quickly stepped in to head it off.

“Arreya, while there is no doubt your tracking and scouting is without peer, the truth is Fenratu scouts are common with caravans in the pass while few have ever seen a Zafirr outside the Djarmangara. If we are going to look like a typical, easily-plunderable caravan, then Sable’s presence may help to sell that illusion. You could ride in wagon three and be ready as soon as the first signs of trouble appear. Please, lass, think of what is best for the mission.”

All waited to see what Arreya’s reaction would be, but none expected it to be good. She surprised them with how well she handled being replaced by a scout of a race that the Zafirr so obviously distrusted.

“Well, I suppose if one of us has to be in a cage, it might as well be me. No telling if the Durgak’s pet is even housebroken, and we wouldn’t want a mess in the wagons.”

Sable, showing she too had a spark of wit and a fiery heart, answered for herself.

“Be careful there, kitty-cat. If you talk too much, you are likely to hack up a furball. Wouldn’t want to discourage any potential suitors suffering from jungle fever now, would you?”

It seemed the tension was not about to dissipate anytime soon. Goldain, in typical fashion, could not resist the opportunity to stir the pot with an untimely jest.

“Now, now ladies. We will never get through this expedition if we are fighting with each other like cats and dogs.”

He chuckled to himself, and his wit brought smiles to the Adami, who were in hearing range. The two
chats-enash,
however, seemed less than amused. Both Arreya and Sable seemed for the moment content to call a truce as they scowled and turned their piercing glances toward the northerner. Goldain looked for a moment as if he may have bitten off more than he could chew.

Duncan had seen Arreya in action against Garan and hoped Gideon’s warning held. Sable seemed quite capable as well. While it was unlikely they would take the northerner’s jest seriously enough to get physical at that moment, Goldain was certain to come to regret that remark.

The issue with dual scouts seemed to be settled at least for now. Arreya would take her place in wagon three, and Sable would take on the scouting for the time being. Gideon instructed Sable not to leave the sight of the wagons. If trouble befell her on the road, they would be able to reach her. If she spotted trouble, she could make it back to warn them and join the fight.

Each of the five non-supply wagons now held four Durgak berserkers and two Aton-Ri troopers. Eight troopers would scatter about and march beside the caravan, and the last two would join wagon four and five. Arreya would ride in wagon three, Goldain in the back of wagon two, and Gideon in wagon one. Donovan would conceal his armor and weaponry under a large riding cloak and take his place beside Tropham as the driver of wagon one.

That would put seven people inside each of the five non-supply wagons, two drivers for each of the total six wagons, eight troops marching, one scout ahead, and Xyer Garan the mounted knight behind. Fifty-seven total in the caravan with only twenty-two showing, and most of those looking like merchants or drivers. Hopefully, the troops showing would prove few enough to entice the attackers to engage the caravan while the total troops would be sufficient to deal with whatever threat manifested. Somewhere between here and the west end of Dragon Pass was the answer to the mystery of the missing caravans. Without further delay, the company set forth from the west gate of Stonehold in search of this answer.

As the caravan left the west gate of Stonehold headed for whatever destiny had in store, each team of wagon drivers seemed locked in their own thoughts. On the lead wagon, Tropham and Donovan discussed the recent reports of Nephilim activity to the west. They plotted battle plans and recounted past victories. Donovan instructed Tropham in some of the particulars of battling in the narrow mountain pass where most assuredly their enemies would attack from the high ground. Tropham was sure his troops were among the best, but after talking with Donovan, he found himself wishing he had brought fewer infantry and more archers. Taking high ground, especially if held by superior numbers, would be a difficult task indeed.

In wagon two, Thatcher continued Kohana’s lessons in Adami language he had begun on the trail from Aton-Ri to Stonehold. The islander was extremely sharp, and in just the week or so, they had been riding together, he had already improved considerably. Thatcher had some basic knowledge of the Somamu tongue picked up from his guild-mate, Thannos, whose father was a Somamu warrior and whose mother was a V’Arbri, an elvish race closely related to the V’rassi. They practiced discussing in Adami the various knife techniques they exchanged during their evenings in camp. Thatcher felt his knife skills had improved almost as much as Kohana’s language skills, but if they ended up facing the odds Goldain and Gideon expected, it would be Thatcher’s repeating crossbow getting the lion’s share of the workout.

In the third wagon, Melizar learned, in the rare times he coaxed Ohanzee into conversation, that the Shade was a rogue. He hailed from
Tynon,
a nation to the south of Dotham Woods on the northwest coast of Ya-Erets. Melizar knew it well. It was more of a region bathed in strife and anarchy than any type of proper nation. In Tynon, the Umbra, unscrupulous Adami, and other undesirables settled in bands ruled by warlords or bandit kings, isolated from the outside world by Dotham Woods to the north, the Wild Lands to the east, and the Great Western Desert to the south. Their main egress to the outside world was via the port city of Mardis.

The economy of the quasi-nation of Tynon dealt in slave trading, smuggling, and piracy. Their ships were a constant threat to the honest sea traders of the Sorami Islands, home of the Somamu and other seafaring races each of which controlled their various islands. The D’zarik often traded with the Tynoni for Adami female slaves to serve as
amah-em
in obedience to the direction of Lord Yolodyr. They had even opened up an entrance within the borders of Tynon to Shadowdeep to facilitate the trade. Shadowdeep was the underground world of D’zarik, Umbra, and several other subterranean races who lived in near perpetual darkness.

Most of the surface dwellers were unaware that the Shadowdeep even existed. It was a world beneath the world. Shadowdeep primary residents were D’zarik, having large cities spread throughout most of Ya-Erets with each city almost entirely beneath the surface with only a small, easily defended exit above ground.

Few other races could exist and function in the near total darkness of the Shadowdeep—the Umbra, a
chats-enash
reptilian race called the Noni and their gecko-like reptiloid parent race the Schazhari. There were also a few scattered pockets of a Durgak sub-race called the Ephah, and some tribes of the insectoid races, but the near lightless void of the Shadowdeep was an impenetrable barrier to most surface dwellers.