Steel And Flame (Book 1) (5 page)

“If I wanted to believe the assumption he’s dead, why
would I make the effort to go and look for him?  This is the only chance that
might let me find him.”

The jester leapt back into the conversation.  “You do
know,
lad-o
, that old man winter is coming to call?  In but the briefest
number o’ eightdays, the roads hereabouts won’t be fit for the shaggiest beasts
o’ burden, nor will the winds be thwarted by the thickest o’ coats!”

“That’s why I have to hurry!”

“Where are you going to?” asked the sullen man.

“A town called Kingshome in eastern Galemar.  It’s the
home base for the Crimson Kings Mercenary Band.  My father was contracted with
them before he disappeared.”

“Ha!” the jester suddenly exploded.  After several
roaring peels of laughter, he gasped, “Here I’ve been thinking Lady Fate was
throwing delays across our meandering path, but maybe She’s
really
telling us to hurry up an’ get on with it!”  He smiled broadly and studied
Marik anew.

“What?”

Maddock spoke.  “It happens we are making for the town
of Kingshome ourselves.  They traditionally accept new members into the band at
the start of winter, to make up for any losses suffered during the summer’s
fighting.  We are hoping to sign on with them ourselves.”

“So then you aren’t even going out of your way!”

“I suppose I am not adverse to having you join us on
our road.  What say you, Chatham?”

“It might be nice to have company other than you two
silent statues to converse with.”  He turned to Marik.  “But, an’ I say this
with the heaviest o’ hearts, I’ll only agree provided you truly know how to use
that blade you say you’ve inherited.”

“I said I’ve kept in practice,” Marik scowled.

“Well an’ good then!  I’ve never been a fool enough to
turn aside as Lady Fate raps on my noggin an’ says, ‘I’ve a task for you, my
boy!’  I look forward to our extended travels through this boring an’ humorless
land!  How about you, Harlan the Ever Cynical?”

“At two votes to one, it wouldn’t matter what I said,
so I’ll agree.”

“Very well then,” Maddock said.  “You are?”

“Marik.”

“Very well then, young Marik.  We are going to camp
about a mile outside the town, off the Southern Road.  There is a small wooded
area there separate from the larger forest across the road to the south.”

“I know it.  There’s a road marker right near it.”

“Indeed.  We’ve camped there before.  Tomorrow morning,
we will be leaving about a candlemark and a half after dawn.  If you still wish
to join us, meet us there.”

“I will.  I’ll be there!”

“Then fare you well.  Until tomorrow.”

The trio left Marik standing by Puarri’s feeling
elated.  A perfect chance to discover his father’s fate, and he truly believed
what he’d told Maddock.  Rail Drakkson was not one to die quietly.

He had only tonight to prepare.  Marik broke into a
run for his cottage, furiously planning everything he needed to do.

*        *        *        *        *

He pounded on the Tattersfield Town Council’s senior
member’s door.  The man had been ill-pleased last night when Marik came calling
just as he climbed into bed, but upon hearing the news the sword-for-hire’s son
would be leaving town, he became charitable.

Downright cheerful in fact, the bastard!

He had listened to Marik explain his departure to
search for his missing father, and the need to sell the cottage he’d lived in
for travel expenses.  Marik would never be able to find a buyer on such short
notice.  The best alternative was to sell it to the council.  Anyone new to the
town looking for residence usually ended up inquiring from the council anyway,
so they would not need to hold onto it long.

The council member agreed the purchase would be no
problem, though insinuated he might be hard-pressed to gather enough coin for
the transaction’s full value.  Marik had expected the council would be
unwilling to pay the full price, so accepted being gouged.  He told the council
member he would be back next morning for the fifty silver coins shortly after
sunrise.  The man replied he would be glad to rise early and make the necessary
arrangements.

I bet!  He probably can’t wait to see the back end of
me!

After counting the silvers, he said farewell to
Tattersfield with little sentimentality.

Marik trotted to make good speed on the kingdom’s
primary southern road which bordered the town’s south edge and ran parallel to
the Rovasii, though roughly a day north of the tree line.  He followed the road
eastward, just as he had pictured himself doing countless times before.  The
exhilaration was heady.

From a nearby flowing creak, the sounds of men became
audible when he reached the road marker.  A wooden footbridge spanned the
narrow waterway, which headed north into the small woods.  Marik followed the
water and found the trio washing their eating utensils in the narrow flow.

“Here’s the newest member o’ our stalwart company,”
Chatham grumbled.  “An’ early too!  There’s nothing worse than that evil stripe
o’ man who leaps out o’ his bedroll at the first ray o’ morning sunshine!  I
might regret taking you in after all.”

“Don’t mind him,” quipped Harlan.  “He’s always like
this in the morning.  For the rest of the day too, for that matter.”

“Hey now, don’t you be throwing disparaging comments
at me an’ tainting my stainless image in our new companion’s eyes!  Why, I’ll
have you know…”

Chatham continued on nonstop.  His chattering blended
with the birdsong around them.  Marik still felt too elated to care how strange
this group of men might be.  He had broken his chains to walk out on paths of
his own choosing.  It was going to be a
great
day!

“What a great day!”  Colbey’s pleasure at being within
the Rovasii after an entire season of banishment welled to the point he
actually said it aloud.

In his eagerness he had decamped before sunrise.  He
was a day and a half from the village, but if he pushed hard with his trained
endurance, he might make it shortly after nightfall.  A long swim in the
central pool’s cool, refreshing waters would do for a start.  It might even
make a beginning at washing the outlands’ dust from him.  Colbey felt he
carried half the countryside ground into his skin and clothing.

He was duty-bound to report to the council upon his
return, but to the hells with that!  They could come looking for him if they so
badly wanted the information he had gathered.  None of it would be news to them
anyway.  First, he wanted to find Sylvia and Liam.  The only ones who had
commiserated with him over his temporary exile, they would welcome him back
properly.  After that, a raid on the storehouses for a return-to-home feast
might be called for.

In fact, maybe he would find Adel and let her know
exactly what he thought of her precious fringe towns.  She’d be annoyed but she
had it coming, especially from him.  Then she would report straight to Farr
about his return, and that would fulfill his duty to inform the council.  Good!

Plans made, he increased his pace, trotting deeper
into the forest.

*        *        *        *        *

It was not much longer when Colbey approached the
outer edges of the Euvea.  He had recognized this region in the outer forest
for the past two candlemarks, his own patrols having involved this area.  It
was his intimacy with this sector that set off alarms in his mind.  His neck
hairs stood straight in atavistic wariness.

Something was wrong.

It was too quiet, which was only the most obvious
sign.  The songs, howls and chattering of the forest wildlife were utterly
absent, unsettling the young Guardian who used the soothing background music of
their chorus to sense dangers.  Colbey had never heard the forest like this,
where the only sounds were the leaves rustling and branches creaking in the
wind.  Animals usually hushed at the arrival of a larger, more dangerous predator. 
Except the silence never reigned absolute even then.

This eerie silence formed only part of the whole
story.  The forest felt wrong.  His inability to identify the source of his
unease made him tense as a strung wire near to snapping.

Nearly half a candlemark later he finally encountered
a member of the absent wildlife.  At the base of a forest slope he found a deer
carcass, killed by its own panic.  A misstep near the top had caused it to lose
control.  It broke its neck during the descent, which itself was hardly
uncommon.  But the lack of any feeding on the meat by scavengers and
opportunistic predators did make it uncommon.  Such a bounty would have been
quickly discovered, yet the forest’s carnivores seemed as absent as the tooth
marks.

What goes on here?

Only one scenario sounded remotely plausible.  An
incredibly dangerous beast must have escaped from the sealed areas outside the
village.  For certain, only a creature both massive and exuding extreme
predatory presence could have spooked away the entire animal population thus. 
He needed to get back to the village.  He needed to do it faster than he had
planned to.

Colbey called upon his training as a Guardian, first
calming his mind, then smoothing his breathing.  He formed a picture of his body
in his mind, imagining it strong and lithe, a running machine undaunted by
distance.  When he felt the surge of energy through his body released by the
higher technique, he broke into a fast, steady run.

Minutes later he reached the Euvea groves, encountering
not so much as a single bird.  Colbey’s anxiety had grown substantially.  He
concentrated on the run to extract the most speed he could from the higher
technique.

The massive roots here would slow him, so he climbed
the first Euvea with a grace he still possessed despite his time away.  He kept
only his climbing spikes, weapons and water skin, storing his pack far above
the ground in a niche formed by several branches dividing from the trunk. 
Colbey ran along the Euvea Road far above the forest floor.  At first his path
tended mostly upward since the trees on the edge were neither as tall or wide
as their parents nearer the grove’s heart.

He needed to slow down to navigate the newborn
offshoots and overgrown branches, which cut his speed.  Soon enough he gained
the regular patrol paths kept clear of obstructions.  His pace increased as a
sense of catastrophe threatened to crush him under its growing burden.

For candlemarks he sprinted.  The closer he came to
his village, the greater his panic increased.  Was that smoke he smelled? 
During a high feast with the entire population, the villagers always curtailed
any smoke so as not to betray their presence to any outlanders who might have
penetrated deeper than they should have.

It definitely was smoke, and the smell thickened with
every step he ran, setting his nostrils to flaring.  He stumbled while he tried
to work his legs faster than ever before.

Calm down!  You are better than this.  You don’t panic
and you don’t lose control like a green scout trainee!  Never!  Now take stock
and make your decisions.

No wildlife, smoke on the wind and no other patrols in
sight.  That was wrong, too.  Very wrong!  Where were the other Guardians and
scouts on duty?  Not on the paths or he would have found them.  They must be
involved in dealing with the trouble’s source, but to abandon the groves and
leave them completely undefended?  Colbey never in his wildest dreams imagined
anything like this could be remotely possible.

Keep moving!  Don’t stop!

He neared the village.  Quick as a deer, he ran past
the primary Guardian Post House for the east side.  Door open, no one inside. 
Was that a splash of blood across the wall or had his eyes tricked him?

Keep moving!  Don’t stop!

Finally!  Nearly there!  Around that ancient grandfather
Euvea stretched the first walkway into the village.  The Guardians there could
tell him why the forest had gone so strange.  Acrid smoke stung his nose.

Keep moving!  Almost home!

Colbey ran down the branch, wide as the roads he had
trod all summer.  He darted around on the walkway encircling the massive trunk,
built by the village folk to make travel easier here in their sanctuary.  Once
around the ancient tree, he ran within view of his home…and stopped.  Unable to
think.  Nearly unable to breathe.

He surveyed the carnage, the wreckage of all that
remained of his life.

*        *        *        *        *

Like a ship tossed from wave to beating wave in the
midst of a terrible winter storm, the village Colbey looked upon had been
shattered.  The spiraling stairs winding around the enormous trees were
splintered in several places, missing entire sections which could only be found
by searching the flooded landscape below.  Suspended walkways hung in tatters
like tree moss against the thick Euvea bark.  Houses and buildings perched in
branch crotches or built upon trunk-encircling platforms were nearly demolished
in most cases, completely gone in others.  From everywhere rose a dark smoke
that sent Colbey’s sinuses into revolt.

What had happened? 
What
had happened to his
home?

Colbey’s paralysis slowly abated, but the shock still
overwhelmed him.  The walkway on this side had disappeared so he instead
climbed to one of the road-like branches.  He strove to find any sign of
survivors as he crossed to the village.

When he reached the first building, he found only
debris from its walls choking the interior.  No bodies, living or dead.  The
scene became familiar after he checked other buildings while making his way
toward the village’s center.

Colbey finally found his kinsmen when he came within
sight of the council building.

Far below were more bodies than he could count. 
Several floated upon the pool’s waters.  Others lay twisted atop the breaching
Euvea roots.  None showed any signs of life.  In blackest despair he approached
the council hall and faintly heard movement within.  Colbey rushed through the
broad doors, desperate to find anyone of his kin still alive.

Not expecting anyone to charge in as he had, they
almost slew him on the spot.  Two men in the mottled colors the Guardians wore
drew their swords on him in an instant.  Colbey stopped cold.  He showed his
hands palms out.

“Hold, brothers!  I am unarmed!”

The left man lowered his weapon.  Colbey recognized
Thomas, one of his instructors in the Guardian training.  “Colbey?  What in the
hells were you thinking, charging in here like that?”

“I…well?  What’s happened here?”

“Oh, right.  You’ve been gone.”  The older Guardian’s
voice lowered to a softer tone.  He sheathed his weapon.  “You picked the hells
own time to come back.  Or come to think of it, it’s just as well you weren’t
here.  One fewer corpse.”

“What do you mean?  Tell me what happened!”

“Move aside there,” Thomas ordered when another man
walked through the door behind Colbey.  He carried an unconscious villager over
his shoulder who bore grievous wounds.  Also wearing the Guardians’ greens and
browns, the man continued with his burden through the door to the primary
council chamber.

Through the open door Colbey could see that the
chamber remained intact.  The massive council table had been tilted on edge and
shoved against the wall looking out over the village, blockading the main outer
door.  He also identified nearly twenty victims.  Each was seriously wounded
and laid out on the floor.  Tending them were a few survivors, each of whom
bore minor wounds themselves.

He looked closely at Thomas and the other two
Guardians.  Bulges betraying bandages beneath their clothing were visible now
that he looked for them.  “What happened?”

“Obviously we were attacked!” Thomas snapped while the
other two exited the building.  “Come and be useful.  You can help us look for
survivors.”

Colbey followed, asking, “Attacked?  By whom?  The
outlanders?”

“Well, they weren’t from the forest, that’s for gods
damned certain!  But Adel didn’t recognize any of them.”

“Adel’s alive?”

“She was.”

“Oh…”

They came around the council hall.  The new view
revealed different stretches of the village.  Colbey could see a few survivors
poking through the ruins.  He felt sickened after he counted the active spots. 
There were only eight.

“We’ve already searched up here.  We have to comb the
ground.  The walkway is shattered, so you climb down here and start beneath the
council building.  We’re going to spread out from the Ivy Platform.  Take these
bandages for any wounded you find.”

“Yes, sir.”  His shock still interfered with his
ability to think.  Letting his senior give him orders relieved Colbey in a way
that it never had before.

“And keep your weapons ready!  Kill anything you don’t
recognize!”  The older Guardian assumed Colbey was about to waste time asking
questions, so added, “There’s no time for talk now!  We came in from our
patrols during the middle, but we don’t know what really happened, and we were
here!  After we find all the survivors, we’re going to hold a gathering to talk
about it.  You’ll know as much as we do then.  For now, help.”

It sounded as good a plan of action as any.  He set to
work. 

Over four-fifths of the walkways were gone.  Colbey
climbed down with his spikes.  He spread out from the roots to search the
nearby bodies for life.

Whatever killed them possessed raw power like he had
never seen.  In many cases, entire limbs were missing or ribs crushed, chests
caved in.  The dead faces of people he knew slowly pushed red-tinged anger
through the shock and nausea.  Who had done such a thing?  He could guess
possible reasons why, but this
atrocity
was a wholly evil crime!  To
wipe out an entire village?  Was it the exotic creatures they protected?  Maybe
they had wanted the Euveas and the enormous supply of lumber in a single tree. 
But that thought made him shake his head at his own muddled thinking.  In a
kingdom already rich with forests, that was sheer foolery.

Or maybe,
his mind whispered as he gazed at the pool,
they were after that!  Did they
get it?
  He could not tell, and under the moment’s stress his thoughts were
running wild with improbable scenarios.  Colbey stopped musing since he could
do nothing until he learned more.  The living mattered the most.

Moving from body to body, jumping from root to root
and wading out into waters that had once been piercingly clear, he finally
found a survivor.  He did not know her well.  She was a craftswomen who made
blankets or jewelry or candles.  Unconscious, she bore a deep gash down her
side from shoulder to waist.