The Vlakan King (Book 3) (6 page)

"What do you know about Mordyn?" asked Armana. "Even though Aulan's agents spotted the supplies movement I doubt if they could evaluate the potential magic of Mordyn's mages."

Artus took his time to response, recalling all he had heard and read. Few travelers ever penetrated deeply in to the Mordyn society, dealing only with the gatekeepers, those trained to deflect questions. It had been many generations since the soldiers of Mordyn ventured beyond their borders.

"There is not much information on Mordyn. They do have magicians. Blackthorne once fought against a Mordyn sorcerer named Berimar but few names are known to the outside world. The magicians tend to be mages or wizards. There are few sorcerers for I believe they are able to see Galamog's true nature and go mad. The sorcerers that exist in Mordyn would be extremely powerful to keep their sanity. The Mage Academy once counted a Mordyn sorcerer among its pupils."

"What? You allowed one of them within your school?"

"He was not learning secrets but honing skills he already had. His name was Pashar Bei and he fit in quite well with the other students."

"Where is he now?"

"I do not know. He left us five years ago. There are rumors but no facts regarding the current activities of Pashar Bei. He was the only sorcerer in Mordyn by his own account. At the time I had no reason to suspect him of lying, but with the recent developments it could be possible he was untruthful."

"Can you not sense other magicians?" asked Armana.

"If they are not using their magic, then I can only sense them when they are close by. Even using their magic, it would be a powerful sorcerer for me to sense him from Mordyn. There are few who have such power and even in his prime Gerrand was not one of them."

"Not Gerrand?"

"Not for so great a distance. If Gerrand was in Rhath I could sense his magic working. Gerrand may be able to detect magic from a greater distance but it is Blackthorne who wields enough magic to investigate Mordyn from a safe distance."

"And he wouldn't do that."

"No, he wouldn't. Blackthorne is a singular creature and will follow his own path. Only one person could convince him to help us and that is Kerreth Veralier."

"Of the Talos Company? He really exists?"

"Yes. I met him once in Toraba. Every bit of the stories are true. He is a fearsome creature. He stood a head taller than you and twice as wide. His arms are thickly muscled and he moves faster than a Daerlan. His reddish brown beard is braided and he has two tusks the size of my thumbs jutting upward from his lower lip. He wields two swords and his helmet is made of a skull of a creature that no longer walks on Landermass."

"Even as the stories say," whispered Armana. "Why haven't I seen him?"

"He goes where he is needed. He does not seek the company of Men for we are short-lived and pass through his life too quickly. He does not wish to become attached to such heartbreak. The Talos Company members live for hundreds or thousands of years. Although they walk Landermass as we do they are not in our world."

"Will they aid us if Mordyn goes to war against us?"

"Perhaps. If Galamog's involvement in the war can be proved, then our chances for their help increase. They tend not to interfere in mere wars, but if it is part of a larger plan and Jungeguds are involved, then they will come."

"Can you get a message to them?"

"I can contact Blackthorne," said Artus. "Although he makes it as unpleasant as he can. Actually Vicare Dimont is en route to Blackthorne's home. I can reach Dimont and he can speak with Blackthorne. It's worth a try."

"Then do so. Despite Aulan's protests we will need all the help you can procure for us. I will have Nar Tomak speak with you to determine the best way to utilize your mages. If you have enough we can station them on Nantitet walls and join each of the companies Tomak sends out to battle."

"As you wish. I prefer to have the mages work in pairs. I fear for their stamina if they have no one to relieve them. We really haven't determined how long they can draw upon their magic without a rest. It has never been a priority to test their strength."

"Still it will be a tremendous help for the soldiers to know the mages are with them. It should give the Mordynians pause when we meet in battle."

Artus nodded.

"If I may take leave of you, your Highness, I must get started."

"Of course, Artus. Whatever resources you need, just ask."

Artus bowed and departed. Aulan entered shortly after.

"May I come in?" asked the Rose Bishop.

"Yes, Aulan. We must speak of what the Rose Brotherhood will do for the High King."

Armana knew Aulan was keen on gathering as much power and influence for the Rose Brotherhood as he could but did he have other goals? Where would Aulan draw the line? Would being the top advisor to the High King be enough? While some of Aulan's motives were clear the man was still holding back from the High King. Armana could not read all of Aulan's intentions and it frustrated him. He prided himself on being the judge of a man's character and in Artus' case, Armana felt sure he had the measure of Artus. On the other hand, Aulan shielded parts of himself and the High King could only guess what went on behind those blue eyes of the Rose Bishop.

"Your Highness, all of my information gathering resources are at your disposal. I have Rose Knights available for your security."

"Will they ride with me to war?"

"To war?"

"Yes. Do you think I will remain safely in my castle while my subjects are in peril?"

"No, your majesty. You will be leading your troops. My knight will remain by your side no matter where you go."

"Excellent that pleases me. Baer Patros will lead the defense of Nantitet and Nar Tomak will command the army. What would you wish to command, Aulan?"

Armana did not look directly at the High Bishop but he watched him all the same. Aulan rubbed his chin.

"I believe I could be useful organizing the food and water. Your quartermaster will be with the army and he could instruct me on the best methods. I still have a number of knights and servants to aid in the gathering and distribution."

"Well, that sounds very helpful, Aulan. Thank you. I will include that in our plans. We will meet tomorrow for the final planning. By next week we should be have the gates closed and carefully check anyone wishing to enter the city."

"Close the city? Is it that serious already? We don't know that Mordyn is planning anything for sure. Would they send spies so far in advance?"

"There are already spies in the city, Aulan. We must make sure armed Mordynian soldiers do not find refuge within the walls. A spy or two can cause a lot of trouble, but a squad of soldiers can overpower guards and open our gates to the enemy. I would rather be over vigilant and be cursed for it than watch my city fall."

"Wise as always, High King. I will have a full accounting of my knights and recommend those to be your personal guard."

"Very good, Aulan. We shall meet at breakfast tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow your Highness, may Cothos watch over you."

When the doors closed behind the Rose Bishop, Armana sat in his chair and picked up a piece of jerky. He gnawed on it as he planned the defense of his realm.

The Greyrawk family held estates in Cresida on the Amloth continent for generations. There were rumors that they were friendly to the Celaeri living in the area and even darker rumors of Celaeri blood running in the veins of the Greyrawk's. This proved to be a fact: Loric Greyrawk, one of the captains of the Talos Company, half Celaeri and half Men, had a life span of many thousand years escaping the brief life of Men.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass

The headaches were worse, he was certain, and they lingered on after the nightmares faded. The pain sliced right behind his right eye. He paused and leaned against the wagon, unable to focus with the throbbing. That big lunch may have been a mistake.

"Ian, are you all right?" asked Ferran. The trader was short and broad with the red cheeks of a man often in the cold weather.

"My head is pounding."

"Sampling your own ale?"

"No, nothing so enjoyable. Didn't sleep well last night. Been like that for several days now."

"Probably, coming down the ague," said Ferran. "Here, there are only three more boxes to unload. I do it myself. Where do you want them?"

"Just inside to the left. Thanks, Ferran." Ian Greyrawk patted his friend on the shoulder and went in the back of the inn to find a stool. Greyrawk stood well over six feet and despite his middle age, he held back the extra weight an innkeeper usually carried. He still looked like the mercenary soldier who lived by his sword in his youth. The Greyrawk Inn stood on the main road on the edge of the town of Peradon, a trading hub on the north road of Anavar. Ian and his wife, Jaele, started the inn after a career as mercenaries and the impending birth of their son Davan. Ian took to the work and the inn thrived. Ian found contentment at the inn for the last seventeen years working with Jaele and Davan.

Davan came down to the storeroom.

"Hi Ferran."

"Hey, it's the young man. Boy, you are growing Davan. Another half a foot I guess." Davan had nearly equaled his father in height and was beginning to broaden. His arms were long and muscled. His grin lit up his face, framed by long light brown hair.

"Dad, I need another keg."

"Can you handle it yourself?" asked Greyrawk.

"Sure," said Davan. The young giant hoisted a keg and slowly trudged up the stairs.

"Stout lad," said Ferran.

"Yes, he is a great help around here. Hard to believe he will be seventeen soon. It will be hard once he leaves."

"Has he talked about it?"

"No, but he has been getting restless."

"Well, they all do. I remember when I left home. Ma cried and Pa hugged me and wished me well."

"Did you ever see them again?" asked Greyrawk.

"Once about ten years later. I had made a little money and went back to see them. I paid all their bills and gave them enough to live on for a few years."

"That was wonderful."

"Yes, I never felt so good before or since. I still can see my old pa's eyes welling up." He paused. "Well, the wagon's unloaded, I best get on the road."

"Thanks Ferran."

Greyrawk watched the trader turn the wagon around and head out to the road. A sharp pain hit him behind the eyes and he gasped. He doubled over. His heart pounded and he smelled blood but he didn't think it was his. Then the wispy strains of music started again. He didn't recognize the melody but it seemed familiar although he never grabbed hold of what it was.

He started as if coming out of sleep. He felt feverish and went for a drink of water.

Davan tapped the keg and poured the ale for the travelers at the corner table. The inn dining area was half full, mostly travelers. There were a few regulars who came by in the evenings for a pint of ale and to discuss the day's events. The dining area was large with a dozen stout tables and the bar ran the length of the room. The Greyrawk Inn was popular for its ale, food and clean accommodations. Jaele Greyrawk seemed to have few concerns other than a clean inn. Davan could hear her voice upstairs admonishing a servant for shoddy work. Davan wiped down the bar, glad that he was able to do more than just the cleaning although no one fully escaped that, not even his father.

Davan kept busy from dawn until past dusk, seldom pursuing his own interests. He leaned on the bar and listened intently to the tales of the travelers and traders who stopped for food or lodging. He did not consciously think of leaving Peradon to find his own way in Landermass but something stirred in him when tales of far lands and peoples filled the inn. His parents spoke little of the events of their lives as mercenaries except as generalities. He never heard a battle recounted or a danger relived. It was if the door was shut and would not be reopened.

The cook called to Davan and he went into the kitchen to get the plates of food for their guests. More travelers stopped in and Davan found himself too busy to think of anything. Jaele finished upstairs and came down to help with serving. Jaele's auburn hair started to grey but she was still a striking woman, often brushing off the comments of the rougher guests. Davan's sister followed their mother around the room. The red-haired Tera was only ten years old and kept close to Jaele. She did stick her tongue out at her brother each time she looked at him. Davan smiled and kept working.

"Have you seen your father lately?" asked Jaele, pulling her hair out of her face.

"He was helping Ferran unload supplies some time ago. He hasn't been in here."

"Darn man. He seems inattentive lately. After this lot gets served, run downstairs again and see if you can find him."

The front door opened and Brevin Tarbin burst into the room.

"Hello everybody!" bellowed the trader. "I'm glad to be back."

"Hi Brevin," said Davan. He slapped the fat man on the back.

"Hi Davan. Look at the size of you now. Hi Jaele. Hey Tera." Brevin's voice boomed in the room. Brevin moved among the tables greeting familiar faces, pounding others on the back.

"Pour me an ale Davan," said Brevin. "Where's Ian? Napping on the job?" He leaned against the bar. Tera looked at him from behind Jaele. Brevin stood eye to eye with Davan but was easily twice the young man's weight. A bear of a man, his reddish brown hair tied back into a long ponytail, he had an ill reputation when in his cups. However, he was never drunk at Greyrawk Inn.

"He's around here somewhere," said Davan.

"Yes, and I asked you to find him," said Jaele. Davan made a face to Brevin and handed him the ale. Davan went to the stairs.

"Where are you going to now?" Jaele asked.

"Nantitet," said Brevin. "I haven't been to Calendia in years and even longer since I've been to the crown city. I have a special load for the High King himself. It's a long journey but this load should pay nicely. I wanted to ask you for some time; do you miss the road?"