Fool's Errand (33 page)

They also certainly could have tortured him until he told them he was a necromancer and the extent of his powers. That is exactly what he would have done in their position, and it was what he was indoctrinated to expect should he ever fall into the hands of the followers of the Malakim
.
Gideon, Duncan, and the other surface-worlders, however, continued to act in complete defiance of everything he was taught to expect. Perhaps Gideon’s offer of trust had been genuine. The implications were unthinkable.

Above all that, however, was his disturbing encounter with the spirit beings that seemed to match the descriptions of the
Tsalmaveth.
Was it Garan’s evil nature that drew these things devour his consciousness rather than the peaceful slipping away under the gentle touch of the
Meorah
Melizar had always experienced before? Were the ancient writings about a great war between the followers of the One Lord and those who opposed Him genuine? Perhaps, if he trusted Gideon with some more of the truth about himself, he could trade the information for what Gideon knew of the ancient legends beyond what was written. Secret knowledge was more valuable than gold in D’zarik society, so if Gideon could be talked into sharing some of his, then perhaps this trust idea might work out to Melizar’s benefit after all.

Arreya was the first to leave the ambush site. Her journey was long, and the sooner the word got back to Aton-Ri of the ravaged ambushers the better. She was not as fast as some of her Zafirr kinsmen inhabiting the Sambraturan Savannah. The land to the south of the Djarmangara, across the
Galol-Tsarebeth,
or Great Scar, nearly cutting the continent in two, was the home of some of her plains-dwelling kinsmen. Some of the savannah-dwelling Zafirr, like the cheetah prides, could sprint much faster than she, but they tired quickly and could not maintain those great speeds over long distances.

Endurance was the specialty of the Zafirr panther and leopard prides. In addition to the strength and speed she inherited from her panther Zafirr mother, she also gained the willpower to drive past normal limits from her Adami father. The ability to push oneself beyond expectations was one of the unique features of the human races, especially the Adami.

Over great distances, like the ones that lie ahead of her for the next two days, there were none that could match her on land save perhaps the giant races of Nephilim or Raphaim who could take one stride to her four and cover the same ground.

She ate little before leaving camp but would heartily feast in Stonehold tonight before setting out in the morning. After that, the only pauses would be for water the remainder of the way to Aton-Ri. Zafirr often gorged themselves after a hunt and then could go up to a week or more before eating again if necessity or scarcity of game called for it. This time, she would not do without for that long.

A rider on a fast horse, lightly burdened, could make the hundred-and-fifty-mile trip from Stonehold to Aton-Ri in about three days without pushing hard enough to seriously harm the horse. She would make it in about twenty-four hours after leaving the east gate of Stonehold, barring any unforeseen troubles. Horses could not normally run more than ten hours a day or so maintaining speed. Arreya did not intend to stop until she reached Aton-Ri.

With the setting sun at her back, Arreya saw the high walls of Stonehold growing out of the horizon ahead. She had made good time. The guards had not even begun to close the west gate as she trotted up toward the city. Stern Durgak held her in the sights of their crossbows until she was within range to shout a hail. The west gate guard captain shouted a cautious greeting.

“Halt. Who goes there?”

“I am Arreya of the caravan that left Stonehold this morning. I have news for the high council and afterward for the leaders gathered in Aton-Ri. I seek shelter and provisions for the evening before I continue my journey at dawn on the morrow.”

“Hail and well met, Arreya. Stonehold welcomes you. I will send runners ahead to arrange for your room and board and to inform the council you have news of the caravan.”

With that, the crossbow-wielding gate guards relaxed a bit and lowered their weapons. These Durgak seemed a overcautious as though she might single-handedly storm the city. Still with the word of increased Nephilim activity, spies and traitors might well be a threat. To top that, there was no doubt that any Durgak who hadn’t seen her as they came through the city would surely not know what to make of a Zafirr
chats-enash
.

The gate captain dispatched one of his guardsmen to escort Arreya to the high council chamber. En route, however, they met the runner who had been dispatched to announce her arrival.

“Hail, Barmik,” he said with a bow of his head to the guardsman accompanying Arreya, “and to you, lady Arreya.”

She kind of liked being called a lady, even though the title fit her as poorly as a silk robe on a sow’s back.

“Due to the lateness of the hour and the time of day, the council will not see you in chambers tonight, but invites you to join them at the Mountain Spring tavern, where they have taken a private room to enjoy their evening meal.”

With that, the runner and the guardsmen exchanged salutes, and the guardsman changed their direction from northeast to southeast headed for the most famous brewery in Stonehold.

As they arrived, Barmik inquired from the tavern keeper where the high council was located. After gaining the information, the guardsman led Arreya to a room off of the back of the tavern. Upon entering, she saw five Durgak dining and drinking and genuinely enjoying themselves. Although she had not attended the meeting with the high council, she had a vivid description from Duncan of who to expect and of whom to be wary. The Durgak seemed to know her, however, as they bid her join them.

“Come on, lass, don’t be shy,” said a grayish-red-bearded Durgak fitting the description of Field Marshal Bonecrusher. “Come join us for a wee smiting of the finest Durgak ale in the city.”

Arreya did not intend to be rude, but alcohol of any sort didn’t agree with her, and losing control of her senses was not a feeling she was inclined to partake of willingly.

“Thank you, Field Marshal, but my people have a very bad reaction to alcohol, so if you would pardon any cultural slight this may cause you, I would prefer to have plain water if you please.”

The Durgak scowled for a brief moment before considering that her reason for refusal was good enough. She ordered her water and a triple portion of the mountain boar steak the waiter recommended served blood-rare.

The eldest-looking Durgak, who announced himself as Chancellor Kenrick Longfather, formally introduced the rest of the council as they waited for the meals to arrive. Odon Longnose, the minister of commerce seemed to turn a slight shade of green at her order for bloody rare pork. This seemed quite pleasing to Farris Stonebender, minister of mining. She picked up from his gloating grin that those two may not see eye to eye on many things.

Longnose’s squeamishness at her ordering the raw meat was amplified exponentially by its actual arrival at the table, and even more so by her ecstatically feasting upon it. Before they had even begun to discuss in detail the ambush and the outcome, the minister of commerce excused himself and told the rest they could fill him in on the details later as he just remembered an important previous engagement.

“Well, I see I shall have to begin ordering rare pork at our dinner meetings,” remarked Stonebender. “It seems that it has the effect of making our meetings both shorter and more pleasant.”

Laughter from the chancellor and field marshal showed that Longnose must often be at cross purposes with many members of the high council. Only Dalwyn Othblest, high priest of Stonehold, maintained his composure at the jest.

“So, Arreya,” the high priest began, “what can you tell us about the fate of the caravan and of young Priest Duncan?” His face clearly bore signs of concern for his young apprentice.

“We found and destroyed the ambushers,” Arreya reported between bloody bites. “The pass should be safe for the time being, but Captain Gideon plans to continue on to Varynia to investigate further and to return the body of Xyer Garan.”

“The Cyrian knight fell in the battle?” Field Marshal Bonecrusher interjected, with a look of genuine surprise poking out from beneath his reddish beard. “ It must have been overwhelming odds indeed to take down such a mighty knight. I expected the whole of the company to fall, our own
bezrek
included, before an enemy should take down such a powerful captain.”

“No!” Arreya, letting her emotions get the better of her, snapped snarkily. “Prince Goldain killed him. He was a traitor who turned on us in battle along with the cook.”

She looked truly maniacal with her derisive snarl and her teeth oozing with porcine blood from her evening meal.

“A traitor?” Bonecrusher asked.

She quickly regained her composure and explained.

“Captain Gideon feels there is some connection between the increased humanoid raids in the free lands east of here, the ambushers, and Garan’s betrayal. A mage called the Blue Mystic is at the center of things. Captain Gideon expects to find some more answers in the Cyrian capital.”

The field marshal looked pained. He scratched his chin as if thinking through some deep battle plan.

“So how did the rest of the battle go? How numerous were the enemies? What were the losses?”

“Thirteen of Captain Tropham’s troopers and eleven Durgak under Captain Donovan’s command fell in the battle. We were outnumbered two-to-one at least by a combined force of Adami bandits, Ogres, Hobgoblins, and Orcs, not to mention the traitors within our own midst. We also lost one of the hirelings—the Shade, Ohanzee.”

“Steep odds indeed,” remarked the field marshal. “Good to know that even against such long odds, our
bezreki
and the troops from Aton-Ri gave a bold accounting. Doubtless it was a victory worthy of song. And what of the survivors not accompanying Captain Gideon to Cyria?”

“Captain Tropham’s men were burning the enemy bodies and clearing the disabled wagons from the pass. He should arrive here tomorrow afternoon with the bodies of the fallen and a request that guest tombs be made available for the departed soldiers.”

“This is sad news,” began the chancellor, “and hard to bear for the loved ones of those who were lost. Guntur will see to it that a security detail is dispatched tonight to assist Captains Tropham and Donovan as soon as we are done here. Rest assured the fallen will be given a place of honor within the walls of Stonehold.”

High Priest Othblest seemed to be growing impatient with the lack of response as to the fate of Duncan, and was not the only one.

“Do you have any news of priest Duncan? Was he injured?” queried Farris Stonebender.

She knew that he was related to the young Durgak and was looking for news to give to Duncan’s father.

“He is fine,” Arreya continued, “and many more would have been lost had it not been for priest Duncan’s bravery and healing
oth
.”

This seemed to greatly please the minister of mining, whose face shifted into a contented smile.

The remainder of the meal passed quietly as the Durgak had said all that needed to be said. This was fine with Arreya, who was not much for conversation when she was gorging in preparation for a long journey. After finishing her meal, she bid the council members a good night and retired to what would be her only real sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

Arreya was already preparing to leave by the time the Durgak servant came to awaken her. She slung two swollen water skins over her shoulders and across her chest. Her dagger hung at her side and her trusted spear,
Huntress
, was in her right hand. The water she carried would have to last her the long and swift journey as there were no dependable water sources between Stonehold and Aton-Ri along the main road, unless one happened to have an
oth
-calling Durgak priest along for the trip.

She was well past the east gate of Stonehold by the time the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. The fiery ball beamed down the corridor of Dragon Pass and straight into her eyes as she ran. She would need to be very careful the next few hours until the sun was up enough not to obstruct her vision of the road ahead. She slowed her pace considerably, squinting to catch as clear a glimpse as she could of the road eastward. The last thing she needed was to sprint headlong into any enemies heading westward in the pass.