Fool's Errand (8 page)

Melizar spent the rest of the journey quietly contemplating his new companions and his future. The opportunity for work had emerged soon after his arrival in Aton-Ri. This was the first time he had experienced any prolonged interaction with surface dwellers other than his
amah-em
.

The reaction of the group to Thatcher’s challenge concerning the money had shocked Melizar as much as it had obviously surprised Thatcher. These light-walkers were nothing like he expected of those who served the Malakim. The D’zarik mage was a long way from trusting them just yet, but their drastic divergence from the stereotypes he had been indoctrinated to believe typical of the surface-dwelling races warranted closer investigation. Were these surface dwellers exceptions to the rule, or were the teachings of his childhood more propaganda than truth? Time would tell.

The rest of the journey took several days and passed without encountering any further evidence of recent goblinoid raiding parties. The companions talked little and spent most of the time in their own thoughts. Gideon had divided the gold and silver they had found, portioning out a fifth minus a tenth to Thatcher. There had been a grand total of eight-hundred silver and two-hundred gold pieces, leaving Thatcher with a net of one hundred forty-four silver and three dozen gold pieces. This, for him, was more money than he would see in half a year of picking pockets and scraping the streets of Aton-Ri. Hardly a retirement sum but Gideon hoped it would be an adequate start to the lad’s adventuring career. There was hope for this boy, if Gideon could only find a way to reach him and show him the light before the darkness of Aton-Ri’s underworld dragged Thatcher back into its depths.

As they crossed the grasslands to the north of Darkmoor heading east toward the Sea of Zimri, the high walls and towers surrounding Aton-Ri far off on the horizon greeted them. Gideon wondered if any of the other patrols had encountered raiders and more vitally if any had found shields from his homeland among the treasures of the bandits. He hoped the reports from the other group leaders might lend light to the mystery before him. Bound to the mayor of Aton-Ri for the duration of his one-year contract, Gideon determined that if his work in the service of the city did not permit him to journey home and inquire further into these shields, then it would be his first priority upon completion of his term of service.

The immense meeting hall in the Aton-Ri city council building was abuzz with excitement. Much had transpired while Thatcher and company were off in the Wild Lands that now required discussion and action. In the room were commanders from Aton-Ri’s regular army forces, a few other emissaries and dignitaries from Rajik and Darkmoor, several important-looking Durgak representing Stonehold, richly clad merchant bosses eager to find the underlying cause of the increasing humanoid raids on their westbound caravans, and two other very remarkable individuals.

The first appeared to be a
chats-enash
of a type Thatcher had never seen before. She had humanesque features mixed with some type of feline race. The striking female was covered head-to-tail in short, sleek black fur. Beautiful and human in her facial features except for her feline-like ears, she was a positively stunning woman if one didn’t mind a little extra fur. This fur to some degree offset her scarcity of clothing, consisting of a breechclout covering around the waist and some ornate jewelry attached to a minimalist top housing her athletic but modest bosom. Thatcher could hardly take his eyes off her.

“What sort of being is she, captain?”

“I suspect,” answered Gideon, “she is part Zafirr.”

“Aye, lad,” added Duncan. “Zafirr are a race of feline humanoids who live in the Djarmangara Jungle on the southern shore of the Sea of Zimri. Their patron is the Malakim named Elisheva, mistress of the hunt. The feline races are mentioned but not named in the
Book of Beginnings
.”

“Aton-Ri is not that far from the Djarmangara. Why have I never seen one before?”

“Zafirr seldom stray outside of their homelands,” answered Gideon. “She is the first I have ever actually met.”

“Me too,” Duncan affirmed, “but I am comfortable with her presence as a member of one of the races serving the Malakim.”

Goldain seemed indifferent to her strangeness if not to her physical attributes.

“We have a race of Zafirr in the Clan Lands, but they don’t live with the Wolf Clan. The white ones, Snow Leopards we call them, live in the lands ruled by the White Wyrm Clan. I’ve never actually met one, but the White Wyrm Clan have an alliance with them.”

“Are they allies with your clan?”

“Quite the opposite, but under my father’s guidance the Wolf Clan Qarahni will trade with most anyone who comes in peace, so discovery of new races and possible trading partners is part of my mission as an emissary of the Wolf Clan.” The northerner bent close and whispered to Thatcher. “Given her beauty and form, I certainly would not mind an opportunity to liaise with her to discuss relations between our people.”

Thatcher sensed much more than trade agreements occupied Goldain’s intentions. Melizar remained quiet and indifferent, but Thatcher observed that the strange female intently examining Melizar, as if she was not sure what to make of the covered and hidden person sitting across the table from her.

Arreya, the Zafirr
chats-enash,
was as interested in the five adventurers sitting across the table as they seemed to be in her. She knew her appearance drew strange looks from most Adami, who seldom encountered those of her mother’s race. Arreya also knew her features were striking by Adami standards. This drew a different kind of interest, at least from the male Adami she had encountered. She heard the others refer to the ebony-skinned warrior with deep, calming, azure eyes as Gideon. The dark warrior captain bore a crest upon his breastplate. She wondered if this marked him as some great chief or leader. Whatever he was, he showed more self-control than most Adami males in her presence. Gideon seemed immune to her feminine attributes more so than the others.

The tall, golden-haired barbarian stared at her as though he were starving, and she were a roast leg of lamb. The small and wiry dark-haired youngster’s eyes also locked in on her with fierce intent, but more of wondrous curiosity than physical passion.

The most curious of all, however, was the one wrapped head to toe in swaddling robes. Gloves covered his hands, and his deep hood hid any hint of features. Firstly, Arreya wondered how in the world anyone could do battle wrapped in so much excess cloth. She barely wore enough skin cloths to cover the areas deemed most important to cover in Adami society, allowing her the freedom of movement required in battle. She knew the Adami and Durgak warriors normally wrapped themselves in metal to better withstand enemy blows. This was odd enough when it seemed perfectly reasonable the best way to defend against damage was simply to not get hit. However, the odd cloth wrappings engulfing this stranger would both hinder battle and offer no protection whatsoever. The oddest thing about him was the distinctly non-Adami scent he exuded. She had never before smelled this particular odor. The Zafirr had senses of sight and smell that were far beyond most races, and they never forgot a smell. Whatever lay beneath those voluminous robes, it was something new to her.

Thatcher turned his attention to the other remarkable individual seated at the table. A monstrously large warrior in full gleaming-black plate mail armor sat with a scowl on his face that looked as if it had been carved there in stone. This man had clearly Adami features, but his size dwarfed even Goldain. It was hard to guess exactly while seated, but Thatcher reckoned this giant of a man must be at least seven feet tall. His long, black hair pulled back into a topknot behind his head, the scars on his face, and the deep furrow in his brow as he surveyed the room spoke clearly that this was a veteran warrior who took his work seriously.

Protruding above his right shoulder was the massive hilt of a two-handed sword slung diagonally across his back in a manner similar to how Goldain wore his sword. The hilt was molded, copper-colored steel in the form of a thick dragon’s body, and the pommel was a ball of carved ivory, bearing the shape of a dragon’s head. Wings protruded from the hilt-guard toward the point, giving the overall impression that the sword might be the spirit of a Wyrm embodied in weapon form. The sword was as equally large and impressive as the man who wore it.

Any further chance to speculate about the other visitors was cut short as the porcine form of Mayor Ignatius Farnsworth III entered the room. The mayor was of average height with short, slicked-back black hair, tiny dark eyes, and a pair of small, gold-rimmed spectacles, which rested unsteadily on his slightly upturned nose. He was not a handsome man, but to become mayor of one of the greatest cities in northern Ya-Erets
at such a relatively young age was an accomplishment not easily dismissed. As the mayor approached his seat, one of the sergeants-at-arms pounded the haft of his halberd upon the floor three times, bringing the flurry of conversations spanning the room to an abrupt halt. Out of the mayor’s rotund, bookish exterior poured a strong and soothing voice as he addressed the gathered adventurers and dignitaries.

“Gentlemen, and lady,” Farnsworth added with a nod in the direction of the Zafirr
chats-enash
. “We are assembled to debrief the returning scouting teams from the Wild Lands and to discuss the recent troubles with caravans traversing Dragon Pass. After hearing all parties wishing to address this assembly, I and the ambassadors and military advisors from Rajik, Darkmoor, and Stonehold will collectively decide on the best course of action to address the issues currently affecting all of us.

“Due to supply shortages occurring as a result of the missing caravans, both Cyria and Parynland have sent their regrets, being unable to spare representatives for this meeting. I have been assured, however, of their cooperation should it be required in confronting whatever trouble the westbound caravans are encountering.

“While Cyria has agreed to continue shipping caravans eastbound, Parynland has decided to maintain what supplies it has and forego exports to the east until such time as westbound trade can be resumed in safety. This decision places an even greater urgency upon the assembled nations here to quickly discover who is intercepting the caravans and devise a solution.