The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (14 page)

Just as the tension in the room appeared to be at the point of crescendo, it was Fauwler himself who deflated it.

“My dear Captains,” he said with his hands raised, palms out.  “Raids such as these are always certain to fray the nerves of even the most courageous of men.”  He looked at Jile.  “Captain Jile I think I speak for all here when I say your history gives you certain privileges.  One such privilege is the moral authority to say exactly what you think to whomever you please.”  That brought forth a little nervous laughter from the onlookers who sensed that a killing might be avoided.  Fauwler continued.  “However, I think you had it right when you said you wanted to return to Kylee.  You can take all of your ships and men and as much booty as you can accommodate.  Add that to the riches you have already stocked away over the years, and you could buy your own kingdom back on our shores.”  More laughs, less forced this time. 

Fauwler turned to Tallun.  There was no smile on his face even though his words were meant to be humorous.  “And when Captain Tallun is done with this venture, he will either be rich enough to buy that kingdom away from you or so poor that he may be asking you for employment.”

Everyone in the inn now laughed.  Everyone but Tallun.

With much effort Captain Jile got his temper under control.  He was aware of what had just happened and why.  He had allowed his contempt for the man to override his good sense and had come within a hair of either killing him or dying himself.  He knew he was still not safe.  With Tallun you never had to fear the blade in front of you, it was the one behind. 

Jile knew he was near the end of his days as a Captain.  When he first became a pirate (he preferred the name privateer) it was a way of escaping slavery.  He had served five years as a seaman before the mast.  His back bore the stripes which came with such a life.  The last time a dictatorial captain ordered him lashed for spilling a bucket of fish guts, he had taken the whip from the Boatswain and tossed it overboard.  Then he encouraged his fellow sailors to join him, promising that there would never again be a lash aboard that ship.  They had quickly rallied to his cause and named him their new captain.  The old ship’s master was put ashore at a small settlement by himself.  Even the Boatswain had asked to remain with Jile. That had been almost forty summers past, and it had been a life about which most men merely dreamed, but now the life was changing.  Some of the men who were now being admitted to the Council of Captains were as much in for blood as they were coin.  Jile and his men had not been saints, they’d killed when capturing the vessels of the nobility, but they were not like Tallun and the thirty or so like him.  They killed because it fed something evil inside them.  Jile had watched it happen for some time now.  With men like Fauwler and a few others, he had hoped that things would go back to the way they’d been.

Well, no more.  He was done with it.  He didn’t trust himself to say another word.  He simply nodded to Fauwler and walked out, followed by the eight men who captained his ships.

***

Inside the castle stronghold Dwan busied herself by taking on the routine duties of a healer.  Besides herself, there were five other Healers and seven younger men and women who were in the process of studying the art.  Thankfully, there had been no actual assaults on the redoubt so there were no battle wounds to attend to as yet.  Still, the looming threats that waited outside the walls could not be ignored.  Attempts to breach the defenses would almost certainly be attempted.

Dwan had visited the defense walkways several times in order to observe the pirates and try to get a feeling for what dangers they posed.  The fact that they had gone five days without any sort of assault against the stronghold was encouraging.  There was talk among the people inside the walls that they were preparing to take what they had gathered from the surrounding areas and simply sail away.  If that were the case, they would almost certainly return at some point, but that was a prospect they could prepare for.  This attack from the sea had been a complete surprise.  Dwan had heard that King Tyner was taking responsibility for the entire affair.  He was saying he should have foreseen the possibility that any civilization contacted by the Wind of Aspell had the potential to be hostile.  It was always such when situations were studied with the benefit of hindsight.  Dwan herself had never even considered the possibility that the kingdom might be inviting invasion.  In truth, no one really believed in the existence of another landmass. 

Dwan was involved in the cleansing and rearranging of a medicine shelf when she heard her name called.  She turned and saw a warrior looking in her direction.  The soldier told her that King Tyner was requesting that she perform another examination of his eyes.  The warrior emphasized that the invitation was a request and not a royal order.

Back up in the castle, within the same room that Dwan had examined Tyner earlier, she saw that the monarch was conferring with Jo-Dal at a large round table.  She waited quietly while they finished their discussion.  To pass the time, she studied the beautiful paintings that adorned the walls and the magnificent carved wood furniture. 

The discussion between the two men seemed to conclude, and both looked over at Dwan with smiles.  The king waved her over.  She approached them carrying both of her large medicine cases.  Halfway across the room Jo-Dal rushed over and relieved her of one.  She nodded her thanks.  There was something about the man’s smile that shook her slightly.  She could not quite decide why.

‘Ah, my savior has arrived,” the king said while executing a pretend bow.  Dwan was at a loss at how to respond, so she simply smiled.

“Healer Dwan, I wanted you to know that your magic powder seems to be working.  Already my vision is becoming clearer.”  The king pointed to his ears with both index fingers.  “Even my hearing is better.”

Dwan immediately fell into her Healer persona.  She sat her case down and opened it.  She withdrew several medical devices and went over to the king.  She spoke to him while she examined his eyes through a thick glass.

“I’m so happy that I could help, Your Majesty.” She said.  “Tell me, how is the pain in your back?”

The monarch arched and twisted his torso.  “It is not as pain free as it was with the gaalan weed, but it is tolerable.  It allows me to sleep at night.”

Dwan nodded, then took out a frame within which was stretched a piece of silk.  Drawn on the silk were several pictures, each one smaller than the one before it.  She used her hand to cover the others then stood a measured distance from the king and asked him what was drawn on the silk.  Each time that he was unable to recognize the picture, she would reveal the next largest one.  Finally, he jumped from his seat and raised both hands in triumph.

“A burdenbeast,” he yelled happily.  “I can actually see it from here.  It’s a burdenbeast, is it not?”

Dwan laughed, at the king’s reaction.  He really was a likeable soul.  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she answered.  “It is, indeed, a burdenbeast, and I have to say the amount of sight you’ve recovered in just a few days is remarkable.”

The king sat back down in the carved chair.  “Now, Good Healer, tell me what I can do to repay you.  Our options are limited now with this pirate trash that surrounds us, but that situation may be leaving us shortly.  We have seen some of their ships being loaded with our stolen cattle and other supplies.  It is a big loss for the kingdom, but our true wealth is in our people.  The cowards are welcome to our livestock as long as they leave our people alone.”

Jo-Dal was standing to the side of the table.  He nodded when the king spoke of the transpiring events.

“Your Majesty…”

The king held up a hand to interrupt her.  “Please Healer Dwan, when it is just us in the room, I prefer that you call me Tyner.  I was just Tyner for years before I let myself get dragged into politics.”

Dwan examined the king closely while he was talking.  He appeared to be a lonely man.  She could sympathize as a person who had also lost the one person who had made their lives happy.  “Thank you, Tyner.  I will honor your wishes, but only if you call me Dwan.  I agree with you, titles have their place but not among friends.  Now back to business.  You ask what you can do to repay me.  That is simple.  Promise me that from this day forward, you will always be absolutely honest with your healers.”

Tyner leaned back in his chair.  His face wore an expression of contrition.  “Yes, I suspected you would ask that of me.  Be aware that I called all of my healers here this very morning and confessed my sins to them.  It was somewhat amusing, really.  First they were shocked that the king would conceal facts from them, then they moved on to each of them taking the blame for not deducing the problems from the symptoms I displayed.  They really are fine healers, you know.”

“I’m sure they are,” she answered.  “Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes.”

“A fresh pair of beautiful eyes, wouldn’t you agree Jo-Dal?”

There was a twinkle in the king’s eye when he made the statement, and Dwan was not offended.  Both she and Jo-Dal were a little embarrassed.

Jo-Dal blushed.  “They are indeed comely,” he said.

Tyner laughed good-naturedly.  “Hah!  I see I’ve embarrassed our serious young Sword.”  He turned to Dwan.  “I apologize if my statements are out of line, it’s just that I feel so much better.  Better than I’ve felt in many summers actually.  Don’t take my words the wrong way, Dwan.  There is only one pair of eyes that I long to see, and it will take my passing from this world to accomplish that.”

Dwan stood.  “Well I truly hope that day is far in the future.  We need your intellect to get us out from under this siege.”

Both men stood when she did. 

“Thank you Dwan,” Tyner said.  “And please don’t stand on ceremony.  My door is always open to you at any time.  I’ll have Jo-Dal see you back to your apartments.

Once again Dwan was escorted back to the entry to the castle, and once again she insisted on walking the rest of the way back to her work place.  Jo-Dal looked a little frustrated by this, but he simply nodded and executed a slight bow.

As she walked back to the block of residences in which she lived, she examined her reactions to Jo-Dal’s behavior.  His actions had been absolutely polite with no hint of his desiring anything more than being chivalrous.  He was an attractive man.  Maybe that was it.  Maybe it was her recognition of the man’s looks that was making her react in this strange manner, but there were plenty of attractive males inside the stronghold.  There were at least two who worked with her as healers who were also handsome. 

Her thoughts were drawn, as they often were, back to Tag-Gar.  Where was he now?  More importantly; would he ever return?  He’d been gone for over two seasons now.  She knew he had no control over the mysterious forces that were controlling his passage between the worlds.  Really, she did not even know if he was alive or dead.  Was she doomed to pass her entire life waiting for a man who might never return?

Dwan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  She gathered her thoughts and was rewarded with a fresh realization.  There would always be men as handsome as Jo-Dal, but there was only one man that she would ever love.  She knew in her heart that even if he would return on the last day of her life, she would consider that life well-lived.

Taggart and his three companions clattered over the bridges on their charon and into the cobbled entrance to the city walls.  He could see that the damage caused by the Great War had yet to be fully repaired.  Thankfully, there was no sign of the tens of thousands of bodies, both human and Grey, that were lost that day.  Taggart wondered how so many had been disposed of.

At the guard post there were numerous glow bulbs strung above them.  Two sentries came over to examine and question them.  They recognized Geraar and Isahn.  Toria was almost ignored.  When they came to Taggart, they actually took several steps backward as they realized the size of the man.  They asked his name, and he gave it to them.  The two sentries looked at each other silently.  Then one of them again asked his name.  Again, he gave it. 

The guards whispered back and forth several times then one of them held up an index finger as a sign for them to wait.  He ran off in the direction of the castle.  The other guard coughed a false cough and studied his boots.

Geraar backed up his charon until it was alongside Taggart’s.  The stocky young man was smiling broadly.  “I have to admit it, Warrior,” he said.  “This is highly enjoyable.”

On the other side of him, Toria laughed.

A moment later the original guard returned with two others.  They were in uniform, and one had the emblem of a Sub-Commander of Olvion forces pinned to his chest.  The other had a smaller metal pin that was shaped like a small sword.  As they approached, Taggart noticed something familiar about one of them.  He walked with a typical warrior’s swagger, but he also emitted confidence, like a man who was certain of his abilities.  Before the man could speak, Taggart leapt from the back of his charon onto the ground.  Ignoring the half-drawn swords of the other guards, Taggart swept the other, smaller man up into a back-crushing embrace.  He couldn’t contain his delight and laughed out loud.

The others watching the display relaxed when it became obvious that the two were good friends.  Taggart finally released the man and stood back to examine him more closely.

“I see no new scars, so life must be treating you better than before.  It is good to see you my friend.”

The other man turned to the assigned sentries and several other warriors and a few civilians who were watching the display and were also intrigued by the size of this newly-arrived traveler.  Only one man this large had ever been seen in this kingdom.  Lord Vynn, the Sword of the King of the kingdom of Olvion pointed to Taggart.  “Tell the watch and inform the king’s staff.  Warrior Tag-Gar, The Legend, has returned to Olvion!”

Later that evening after he had been taken to his old apartment and given a chance to bathe and put on fresh clothing, Taggart retrieved Toria from her own small apartment within the castle and escorted her to the Royal Level.  They went to a large set of twin doors that were beautifully painted and guarded by two warriors holding polished battle axes.  The weapons were very ornate in appearance but were definitely there for utility rather than decoration.  Toria had never before been exposed to such surroundings.  The halls through which they walked were covered with numerous old paintings and gorgeous tapestries.  The floors were cut stone and so highly polished that she could see her reflection in them.  She felt woefully underdressed even in the nice black leggings and shirt that had been delivered to her door.  Her donated shoes were wonderfully soft, and they shined as brightly as the floors here.  She found herself unconsciously walking closer and closer to Taggart, as if needing his presence to justify being there.

The doors were drawn open from within by two different warriors.  The two walked inside, and Toria jumped when there was a shout from one of the people gathered within.  She saw a flash of movement, and her hand shot to her side subconsciously seeking the knife that was almost always there. 

“Tag!”  The shout was from a beautiful woman who launched herself at the big man.  Both were smiling broadly as he lifted her high off of her feet and then gathered her in his arms.  Toria experienced a brief flash of mild jealousy.  She had not recognized that she had developed a slight crush on her new friend.  Then she realized that this whole trip had been for her new friend Tag to find his Lady Dwan.  This must be her.

After a few twirls Taggart set the woman down.  “Meena,” he exclaimed.  “What a sight you are.  As beautiful as ever.”

Toria frowned at hearing that this was not Dwan and wondered at the relationship.  Perhaps the famous love story of The Legend and Lady Dwan was not as accurate as she had heard.  Then the name he’d shouted settled into her mind, and she recalled the story of the famous last battle of the Great War.  Meena was a very famous lady warrior who had accompanied Ruguer and Tag-Gar as they had walked, hopelessly outnumbered, toward a hoard of attacking Grey Ones.  She had gone on to marry the newly-crowned King Ruguer and become his queen.  Toria was suddenly very self-conscious to be in the presence of such a woman.

Toria might have been intimidated by Meena’s presence, but Taggart certainly was not.  The two chattered away at each other stopping every moment or two to engage in another hug.  Finally, Taggart took the queen’s arm and steered her over to Toria.  The girl gulped, and fought hard to keep herself from shaking.

“Queen Meena of Olvion, may I present the Lady Toria,” he said.  Toria felt her face flushing, and she suddenly realized she had no idea how to respond to a royal introduction.  She finally executed a deep bow.

Meena smiled and lifted her back to a standing position.  “Welcome Lady Toria” she said smiling.  “Friends do not stand on ceremony in this castle.  I understand you accompanied my dear friend on his journey to Olvion?”

Taggart put a hand on Toria’s shoulder.  “Not only did she accompany me, Meena, she actually saved my life by engaging a Grey One in one-on-one combat and killing the odious beast with nothing more than a set of knives.”

The queen looked at Toria now with a fresh awareness.  “Really?  All by yourself with nothing but knives?” she asked.

Toria ignored the slight to her knives.  They were almost a part of her, and she had complete faith in her abilities to use them effectively.  She quickly realized, though, that the Queen’s interest was in the act and not a disrespect of her choice of weapons.  She gulped again and answered the queen.  “Yes, Your Majesty, but it was only one.”

The queen and Taggart both laughed.  “Only one?  Only one Grey One slain by a young woman with Tooth and Claw?”

Evidently the other dozen or so people in the room had been listening to their conversation.  At the queen’s last statement the room erupted into the Olvioni equivalent of applause with all those standing slapping their chests and those seated pounding on the tables before them.  Toria felt her face darken with the rushing blood, and she found herself wishing that there was a convenient hole in the floor through which she could escape.

Meena finally held up a hand to halt the applause.  She then guided them over to a corner where they could talk more privately.

“I am not exaggerating when I say this young woman reminds me of a young metal worker who came to this city as a refugee and wound up being a fierce warrior,” Taggart said.

Meena looked closely at Toria.  She felt the girl’s arms and shoulders. “Yes,” she finally said.  “I can see it.  It takes years of hard work to build those muscles, especially the shoulders.  Tell me, Toria, do you practice every day with the Tooth and Claw?”

Toria nodded.  “And with sword and spear.”

“I thought so.  You certainly could be a warrior.  You have not had the years of training that we offer those who are raised near the castle.  They start their indoctrination at the age of ten summers, but if you ever find yourself wanting to join our military just go to any guard post and tell them you need to speak with me.  If they are not receptive, tell them you are my personal friend.”

Toria’s head was swimming.  So much had happened to her that she was not even able to manage a verbal reply.  She just smiled and nodded.

The tone of the conversation then took a different tone.  Meena put her hand on Taggart’s shoulder.  “Tag, I am so sorry that Dwan is not here.  As I am certain Vynn told you, she left for Aspell a season past.  I fear that every place she went in Olvion, she was constantly reminded of you.  You must tell me later about the details of your disappearance, but for right now, I’m afraid I must give you some more bad news.  Just earlier today we were informed that a fleet of invaders have besieged Aspell.  They came from the sea, evidently from a land that we never knew existed.  They are acting like pirates and have ransacked the entire town.  King Tyner, and some of his military have closed the gates to the stronghold and our last information, which was three days old, told us that it has not yet been assaulted.  It is hoped that the invaders will take whatever treasure they can gather from the town and countryside and leave. 

“As you know, Ruguer is gone, out on a tour of the valley to determine the full extent of damages from the war.  He was scheduled to return four days from now.  We’ve sent riders and staged fresh charon at points along the way so that he can return as quickly as possible.  I pray he stays to his planned schedule and hasn’t gone off on one of his explorations.  Anyway, we expect him back in two days or sooner now.  In the meantime, Vynn is arranging an attack force to begin marching west at first light.”

“How about cavalry?” Taggart asked.

“Yes.  Sub-Commander Tophar is set to leave at the same time with two hundred mounted warriors.”

Taggart frowned.  “So few?”

The queen put her hand on his shoulder.  “I know, Tag.  The war has hit us hard.  As you know, all of our cavalry were lost.  The scant few that we have since trained, I split up and am sending half to Aspell and keeping the rest here to help protect the city.  I know it is too few to have an immediate effect, but we are told that the word has gone out to Archer’s Gate and Northland.  We expect that all kingdoms will contribute to the effort. 

“These people, wherever they came from, haven’t brought that large of a force.  The estimates that were sent to us are between four and five thousand.  We should be able to mount a reaction force able to take care of that number.  Right now, because of the war, we are in the unusual position of being the weakest of the four kingdoms, so we must rely heavily on Archer’s Gate and Northland.”

Taggart had his head pointing downward, considering this new information.  He looked up at Meena with a frown on his face.  “Well, it is what it is.  I’ll be leaving with Vynn in the morning.”  He looked at Toria.  “I have enjoyed our time together Lady Toria.  I’ll be leaving you in Meena’s hands.  She’ll make certain that you are delivered to your cousin.”

Meena stopped him as he turned to leave.  “Tag wait.  About Toria’s cousin.  You say he was just recently released from service with Aspell’s military?”  Toria nodded.  “Well I can’t be certain, but I think he would be among the hundred or so that were reactivated for service due to the invasion.  If so, he has already been sent out.  They left right after we got the news.  What is his entire name, Toria?”

The girl gave Meena her cousin’s full name, and she went over to one of the warrior’s guarding the doors.  There was a short discussion before he went hustling out into the hallway.  While they were waiting, Toria put a hand on Taggart’s forearm.

“If Lyyl is gone then you have to take me with you.”

He was caught unprepared for such a demand.  “I’m afraid that would be impossible.  I have enjoyed your company, and I am glad we had the chance to become friends, but taking you with me is impossible.  I’ve been in war before, and it is no place for…for people as young as you.”

Toria could feel herself growing angry.  “I know what you almost said.  You almost said it is no place for a child.  I’m not a child.  I’m almost as old as Geraar.  You made a promise to my mother and father to deliver me safely to my cousin.  Well, Lyyl is on his way to Aspell.  If you intend to honor your pledge, you have to take me.”

“Toria, as I said before, it is impossible.  Meena will see to it that you are cared for here, within the castle.  It will be a grand adventure for you, dining with the Queen of Olvion, meeting King Ruguer when he returns.  It will give you a lifetime of stories to tell.”

Meena had returned and heard their conversation.  “He’s right, Toria.  It’s not safe out there, even for trained warriors.  Besides, I’m looking forward to having another woman around to talk to.  The fact that you are Tag’s friend makes you mine also.  We’ll have so much fun together.”

Toria was not agreeing with any of what she was hearing.  She may not be a trained warrior, she thought, but how many of the newly trained warriors in this hastily reformed military had killed a Grey One in combat?  She was smart enough, however, to see that her arguments were not going to sway these two. 

***

Tinker held her breath.  Beside her, Mate was also silent.  They were both backed into a thick bush and hoped that they were totally hidden by its branches.  Twenty paces away, a large animal with thick black fur was sniffing the air.  Tinker could see he was a predator.  He had oversized jaws with long canine teeth that protruded from his maw like tusks.  His muscular chest and back were crisscrossed by scars, and his smaller rear legs were built for short bursts of speed such as one would need to chase down and latch onto prey.