The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (5 page)

To Kal’s amazement the entire crew on the deck of the Wind of Aspell erupted into chaos.  It appeared to him that roughly half of the outlaw crew was shouting curses while the others were cheering.  Tallun himself was one of those cheering and laughing.  The cacophony went on for several minutes before Tallun waved the crew into silence.  He went over to Bonn, and held out his hand.  The big sailor, who Kal was thinking of as the probable second in command after Tallun, was frowning deeply.  He reached for a bag that was tied to his waist sash.  With obvious reluctance he dropped the bag into Tallun’s waiting hands.  The clinking of coins within could be heard.  The cheering began again, and their leader rubbed Bonn’s bald head good naturedly.  Among the pirate crew, other similar exchanges were taking place.

When the noise died down again, Tallun nodded in the direction of the main mast.  Kal tensed, expecting that his good friend was about to be mutilated.  Instead the ropes that were binding him were untied. 

Gann rubbed his wrists, massaging the feeling back into them.  He pulled the gag from his mouth and spit several times.  He seemed as puzzled as Kal was.

Tallun walked over, and put his arm around Gann’s shoulders.  “I told you I liked this man,” he said.  Then he directed his comments to Kal.  “Sorry to have so much fun at your expense but, you see, we were able to trick some of your crewmen into giving us the location of your kingdom on the first day.  I’m afraid the bravery of your crew is far greater than their wisdom.”  That comment set off another round of laughter.  Kal reflected that this crew of outlaws seemed to be easily and frequently amused.  “The cheers you heard were from the crew members who wagered you would not reveal your kingdom’s location.  The curses were from those who thought you would.”

Tallun walked over to Kal, bringing Gann with him.    He stepped back so that he could look at both of them comfortably.  “In all seriousness, I really am impressed by the bravery of your crew.  I pray you are not overly judgmental of the poor souls whom we tricked.  We found several possible points of origin already drawn in on your chart table.  We then brought up your crew one at a time, and confronted them with the charts.  None of them actually revealed the correct location, we were able to discern that simply by watching their eyes when they were asked the location of their home.  The three men that we had determined to be your navigators all glanced at the same chart then quickly looked away.  It is a cheap trick, I’m afraid, but it seldom fails.”

Kal gritted his teeth.  Tallun feigned concern.  “Have we upset you Lord Engineer?”

“If you knew the location as you claim, why were my crewmen murdered?”

Tallun stepped close to the Aspellian.  When he spoke it was in a light tone as if he were discussing trivial matters.  “To impress upon them the importance of obedience.”

Taggart watched the young woman as she walked…no, pranced…, down the lightly-worn trail.  He knew her to be seventeen summers, but, she sometimes acted much younger.  She had a spirit about her which reminded him of Dwan.  He found himself smiling at her many antics along the trail.  She would sneak up to insects and scare them into flight, then run along behind them chasing and laughing.  She constantly practiced her knife skills as she walked, and enjoyed stalking small saplings and larger tree trunks, inflicting numerous slashes upon them.  She would act as if she were silently sneaking up on the objects, then explode into a windmill of slashes and strikes.  Even though Taggart was amused by her actions he took note of the very serious damage she could inflict with her knives.  Her skill was impressive, and it went beyond the inevitable result of being the offspring of a warrior.  The youngster had a natural quickness that Taggart had never before seen among the people of Olvion.  That fact was impressive when one considered the fact that Taggart had trained with some of the best warriors in the walled kingdom.  He would examine the marks she left on her imaginary victims as he passed.  They were deep, and they were plentiful.  Indeed, he was at a loss as to how she had been able to strike so many times in such a brief interval.

He also couldn’t help but notice that she was a very beautiful young woman.  Not that he had any designs on her, Taggart’s heart was owned truly and totally by Dwan.  It was she that he was seeking and would continue to seek no matter the distance or the danger.  It was impossible to ignore what his eyes saw, however.  Toria was short, even for a person of Olvion.  She was not quite five feet tall, and she had the dark tan skin, brunette hair that was almost to the point of being black, and dark brown eyes that almost hid the pupil within.  In his first five minutes into the journey he noted that his biggest challenge would probably be keeping away the young men they expected to encounter along the way.

As he walked, his thoughts inevitably drifted to Dwan. 
Three days! 
He would see his lady, his love in three days.  After all these many months he almost couldn’t stand it.  Would she hate him for leaving or would she know that he would never do so willingly?  For the thousandth time he considered the conundrum he was experiencing, hating the supernatural force that took him from her while acknowledging that, without it, he would never have found her.

Many times in his tiny room above the bar he had laid there at night, eyes wide open until the early hours.  He would imagine her doing little things, smiling at her patients, showing that little frown of hers as she applied a bandage or treated a child’s malady.  He wondered if she would still be in their little apartment in the castle proper.  Certainly she would be well taken care of, considering her relationship to him and her skills as a healer.  The more he thought of her the faster he walked.

“Hey!”

The shout brought him out of his reveries.  He looked behind himself and was surprised to see that Toria was now quite a distance behind him.  She was standing now with her fists on her hips and her lower lip protruding.

“My legs aren’t as long as yours are, maybe you could walk a little slower?” she yelled.

Taggart laughed and beckoned her forward.  When she caught up he bowed.  “A thousand pardons Lady Toria.  I shall endeavor to match your pace more closely.”

She smiled.  He noted a large smudge on her face that she was obviously unaware of.  Her mock battles had produced many more on her arms and clothing.

“I know what you’re doing, Tag-Gar,” she said smiling slyly.  “You are walking as fast as you can so that you can get back to your lady more quickly.”

Taggart nodded, now carefully walking alongside.  “Of course I am.  By the way, Tag-Gar is my formal name.  My friends all refer to me as Tag.”

She turned around so that she was walking backwards while looking at him.  “So I am your friend?”

“Why, Lady Toria, of course you are my friend, and considering the fact that you are showing me the route back to my Dwan, you can consider yourself my very good friend.”

Toria’s smile broadened at that.  She continued walking backward, now adding a kind of rearward skip.  “My brothers will be so jealous of me.  So, if we are friends Tag-Gar…”

“Tag,” he reminded her.

“Tag,” she repeated.  “If we are friends can you tell me if we will be able to see Tinker when we get to the city?”

Taggart thought a moment.  “I certainly hope so.  My most fervent wish is that she and Dwan are still together in our Apartment within the castle.  I guess I never really considered the fact that she might have left.  Tinker had a strong connection to Dwan, but not like she had with me.  There was a special relationship that we had, a shared task and responsibility.  I don’t know what happened once I…left.  I suppose she might have gone back to the mountains where her home is.  Hey, watch…”  Taggart tried to warn her, but her foot struck a small rise of weeds.  She stumbled slightly, but then continued to walk backwards.  He suppressed a smile when she tried to make it appear that she had not stumbled, but had merely meant to hop.

“But, if she’s gone won’t you have to go find her?  I mean the two of you belong together, The Legend and the white Mountain Child.”

“I’m not so certain that there is even a need for The Legend anymore, Toria.  When I first came to your land Tinker found me and enlisted me into the task of defeating the invasion of the Grey Ones.  I’m hoping that the only reason I’m here now is to find Dwan and continue my life with her.  It’s really all I want.”

The young woman turned around to walk normally beside him while thinking.  Finally she turned to him and placed a small hand on his arm.  “I hope so also, Tag.”

Just as the sky was turning a deep purple they came to the crest of a hill and looked down from it to see a collection of a dozen sturdy buildings.  One was much larger, and had sawn wood siding while the others were mostly constructed of barked logs.  Because Toria had talked almost constantly since they started their journey, Taggart knew that this was the farm of Chadd and his sons.  Chadd, like Mattus, had been a warrior, only he had served the kingdom of Archer’s Gate.  He had brought his sons to the city of Olvion around the same time as Mattus’ family had arrived.  Since they were both heading in the same direction, at least for part of the way, they had joined forces.  The action had been comforting to all since raiding parties of Greys were still a danger. 

When the counter-attack of the Grey Ones was smashed by the late-arriving reinforcements from the Coastal Kingdoms the brutish Greys had fled in every direction.  While it was thought that most of them would work their way back to the Grey Mountains where their tribes were located, such a result was not a certainty.  Many in the kingdom felt that a large number of them would be so shamed by their failure that they would not return to their homes.  Some of the royal academicians posited that many would remain in the valley of the humans for the purpose of exacting revenge for their humiliating defeat.  No one knew for sure.  There had been numerous attacks in the months following the Great War.  Some had been repelled, and some had not.  It was for this reason that Taggart was heartened to see that the large farm was still under human control.

As they drew near a hanging strip of metal was struck by a hammer several times.  The resulting noise alerted all on the farm that strangers were approaching.  Taggart could see a dozen or more males of varying ages running to trenches and other defensive constructs.   He also saw swords and spears being brandished.

Taggart had been given an old spear by Mattus so that he could defend himself and Toria.  He handed the weapon off to the girl and did a slow spin, so that the defenders of the farm could see that he had no others.  As they approached the high gate that led to the main building of the complex he saw three older women exiting.  The oldest one was wiping her hands on a rag and smiling.  The other two had their hands shading their eyes from the sun as they watched the arriving strangers.

There was a high-pitched squeal followed by the sound of running feet.  Taggart swiveled his head just in time to catch the sight of a running girl who was roughly the same age as Toria.  Toria squinted, then herself started running to intercept the girl.  They met halfway and wrapped their arms around each other, both emitting a collection of squeals and laughs.  Taggart deduced that the other young woman was Wayla, Chadd’s daughter whom Toria had met on their journey out from Olvion.

With Toria and her friend otherwise engaged Taggart continued down the packed earth approach to the main lodge building.  When he got close enough a rough looking man held up a hand for him to stop.  The man was short and wiry in the fashion of the thin-limbed Olvionis.  He was going bald on his pate and had thick brown eyebrows.  He had an air of authority about him, and Taggart guessed that he must have been an officer in the army of Archer’s Gate.

The old warrior turned to the other waiting men and signaled for them to lower their weapons.  He approached Taggart and stood before him looking up at his face with no apparent concern about the difference in sizes.  “Greetings Warrior,” he said by way of welcoming.

Taggart did not have to ask how the man knew he had been a warrior.  After spending considerable time in the military service one developed a sense of who was and was not also a soldier.  “Greetings Warrior,” he replied with the appropriate response “I am in need of shelter for myself and my ward.”

The man nodded, and turned his body sideways to open the road for Taggart.  It was a traditional response in this world when strangers were met.  “My name is Chadd.  I recognize Toria.  My lodge is open to you and your charge,” he said.  “Come, Tag-Gar, food and shelter are waiting.”

Taggart smiled.  “My thanks.  You know me.  Have we shared food?  Fought together?”

Chadd chuckled.  “No to both of those questions, but how many yellow haired, blue eyed giants are stalking the woods?”

Inside the lodge there was a minor pandemonium taking place.  Boys and young men of several ages were talking over each other while several girls of a similar age were gathering around Toria.  More mature women were quickly throwing together the makings of a meal while shouting for aid from the children.  Evidently this family worked long days in the field, and ate their evening meals late.  The arrival of visitors was a rare treat, one that dictated a holiday from work and an early meal.

Chadd led Taggart around to the rear of the lodge and both warriors, and the younger men used warm water in large buckets to wash away the grime of the fields and the road. 

“Come and sit with me and my sons,” Chadd invited. 

Taggart sat in a comfortably carved chair, watched as a full dozen or more young men pulled benches up and sat in a circle around him.  “I must say, Good Warrior,” he observed, “You have an unusual number of sons.”

Chadd laughed.  “I would be proud to claim them all, but there are actually three complete families working this land.  I have the major claim, but I have opened it up to two other retired warriors.  They are on a hunt now out to the south side of the fields.  They will return before nightfall.  Only five of these strapping lads share my blood.  The others were sired by Warriors Sallum and Mag-Grea.  They were both cavalry officers, but we try not to shame them with that fact.”

Taggart smiled at the good-natured jab.  He listened as Chadd introduced all of the younger men.  He tried to ignore the stares he was getting.  He guessed it was not every day that one meets a legend on the farm.  Chadd finally ran them off so the older men could talk.

“So tell me, Good Warrior, what became of you ‘ere now?  The stories told about the city are many and varied.”

Taggart leaned back into the chair, and told Chadd the entire story of how he had been spirited away from his woman and how he had returned.  “The Warrior Mattus found me and was good enough to send his daughter to show me the paths to Olvion,” he said in conclusion.  “She is a spirited lass to say the least.”

Chadd laughed.  “I remember her from the journey out here.  She caught the attention of most of our young males.  The few who tried to make an impression on her were less than successful.  I recall that on one occasion she was observing a wrestling match between two of them.  When she disparaged the abilities of both they challenged her to do better.  She pinned both of them and forced one of them to say out loud that he’d had enough.  I would say that
spirited
is not a strong enough word for that one.”

The two men continued to chat in the easy way of warriors.  When Sallum and Mag-Grea returned with a nice antlered deer-type animal carried between them they were introduced and joined the conversation.  Eventually the younger girls, including Toria, all rushed out to tell them that dinner was prepared.  The girls were shadowed by some of the older teen aged males who seemed much interested in the young female visitor.  Taggart counted nine girls of all ages on the farm. 

Dinner was served outside at a long wooden table flanked by rough benches.  There were several lit torches sunk into the ground around the table that pushed back the approaching darkness.  Taggart noted that no glass bulbs containing the luminous leaves were used, on the outside at least.

Chadd sat at the head of the table with Sallum and Mag-Grea on either side of him.   Taggart had politely declined to take Chadd’s seat as a guest of honor.  He hoped he was doing the right thing.  In Olvion it was customary to offer the seat and it was also considered polite to decline. Taggart hoped that the customs were the same in the Coastal Kingdoms as they were in Olvion.