Greyrawk (Book 2) (8 page)

"He cannot kill me," said Greyrawk. "I make my living with a sword. Or I used to."

"Perhaps he cannot gain victory in a fair fight, but he will guarantee his victory nonetheless. My men will be following and we will take him when he makes his move. Brandalay will accompany you. You need someone you can trust with you, and he is very handy with his sword. I have no fear the two of you cannot handle any situation. Leave at first light. Your saddlebags are prepared. Good night, gentlemen, and good luck."

Arenna left them.

"Is she always so abrupt?"

"Abrupt?" said Brandalay. "I've never heard her speak so long at one time. You should feel honored."

"I always thought an honor should not feel like I'm riding into my enemy's territory."

"Greyrawk Mountain is your territory."

"Perhaps, yet there are many miles to reach it. A lot may happen."

"You are correct, there. Here, you can sleep in this room. I will wake you at dawn."

"Have you known Arenna long?" asked Greyrawk.

"Yes, nearly all my life."

"You knew her as a child, before she was injured?"

"Yes. Your unspoken question - yes it changed her. She was a sweet girl fond of exploring. She went into the depths of the castle by herself often, but one time something happened. Belderag was enraged, yelling at her and dragging her behind him. I never heard what happened to her other than what Arenna told me."

"Was it the truth?"

"She believes it to be true. Belderag is a hard man, but he is not known to hurt children. I will not argue the point with Arenna. She employs me when no one else would dare. Good night, Ian."

Greyrawk lay awake reviewing the day's events. Much had been put in motion but he wasn't convinced that it had been a good day. Did he still have the opportunity to ride away from all this? Or was it already too late?

He did not contemplate for too long; his body relaxed and Greyrawk fell easily into slumber. He dreamt of copper eyes and blue hair. But the dawn came quickly.

"Greyrawk? Do you hear me? Wake up!" said Brandalay. He shook Greyrawk's shoulder several times.

"Eh? I'm awake, I'm awake."

"Was she good?"

"Huh?"

"Your dream. You didn't want to wake up." Brandalay grinned at Greyrawk's confused look. "Could only have been about a woman."

"Ah, I guess. Don't remember much of it."

Brandalay watched him and smiled. "Well, get dressed and grab some food before it's gone. We need to be on the road within the hour."

Greyrawk stretched, vividly remembering his dream and feeling his face flush. He didn't think he talked in his sleep. Jaele never mentioned that he ever did. He dressed quickly and ran across the compound to the common room where many people were eating. There was very little sound as low voices made up the conversation but he couldn't catch the words. The weathered figures all looked like fighting men and they minded their own business. No one looked up as he entered and he helped himself to the stale bread and day-old stew. He heard Brandalay bring out their horses and watched the man tie supplies to each. Brandalay finished and mounted his horse, turning to meet Greyrawk's eyes. Greyrawk finished his stew in three hot gulps and trotted out to join his companion.

"Ready? We'll ride steady for a while, and then push for a few miles to see if anyone's following."

"What about Arenna? She said she'd have men to help us."

"And she will. They will be waiting ahead of us. We must appear as if we are alone and that will help convince those following us. We will flee from a larger number, as they would expect us to do and draw them into the trap. We cannot behave as if we believe we are not in danger for that will warn them off."

"You want us to run from them?" asked Greyrawk.

"Ha, Ian, yes. Run. They might be fifty of them."

"Or there might be ten."

"I am not as young as you, my friend," said Brandalay. "Nor is my body free of injuries. Ten you say, but it is still too many. We must be discreet until we know what is thrown against us. An archer or two and our adventure ends poorly."

They rode in silence through the dirt streets of Gornst. Most shops were still shuttered but the baker was up and working. Greyrawk was full from breakfast but the smell of fresh bread was irresistible. However, the bread was still baking and they could not wait for it. Brandalay picked up the pace after they cleared the west gate. The guards watched them closely as they passed. They rode steady for several miles and then slowed down to climb a hill giving them a wide view of the farmlands and wooded areas behind the rolling hills where cattle grazed.

"I don't see signs of anyone following," said Brandalay.

"Must be waiting for us somewhere ahead," said Greyrawk.

"I'm afraid you are correct. There is place where the trees draw close to the road as it dips across a stream that would be ideal for an ambush. If we make it through there they would have to ride us down for the road is clear all the way to Greyrawk Mountain."

"Can we gallop through it?"

"We might. We might not. Depends on what sort of trap they lay for us. If they plan on riding out and stopping us then we ride hard. If they have strung rope across the road, riding hard won't work so well."

"No," grinned Greyrawk. "I set such a trap a couple days ago."

"There you go, we best be careful. One of them might be a little sore at you," laughed Brandalay.

Greyrawk admired the laughing man. Brandalay was only a few years older than Greyrawk but he was thicker and darker skinned. His long hair was dark brown but his beard was mostly gray. He walked with a limp, a souvenir of an arrow ten years earlier. There was a light in Brandalay's face; a glow behind the hazel eyes and his mouth seemed upturned just a bit at the edges. He was a man built for mirth and celebrations, yet here he was in the middle of court intrigue, and bereft of his station. Greyrawk realized that was the first time he heard Brandalay laugh. He seemed a different person without the dark cloud hovering around him.

Greyrawk wondered about Brandalay's past and kept alert for a chance to bring it into conversation.

"Tell me about Anavar," said Brandalay. "I've never left Amloth and just twice have I left Cresida. I went to Masina both times."

"I only know eastern Anavar. We live in Peradon, a free city northwest of Anethe."

"Have you seen Anetheans? Do they really have wings?"

"Yes they do. A nice people although I have never seen them in battle. I've heard tales of their ferocity but I haven't seen it. When I was a mercenary I traveled the edge of Mordyn all the way to the Three Kingdoms. I've seen Nantitet and can say there is nothing else like it. Andara looks quaint in comparison."

"Nantitet, I've heard stories all my life. Did you see any Zidar?"

"Not to my knowledge but I'm not sure I could recognize one."

"You have a family?"

"Yes. Jaele and I have two children, Davan who is fifteen and Tera who is eight. Just before I left home Jaele told me we have another child on the way."

"Congratulations! I will buy you a drink when we next find a tavern."

"How about you; any family?"

"My wife died young and we had no children. I haven't felt the need to start a family, and more important, I haven't found anyone I want to share my life with. Kiara was special and I'm not sure I'll see her like again."

They rode in silence for a few miles then the road rose and fell and Greyrawk could see the depression ahead where the stream dipped under the road. He stared at the trees lining the road but with the shadows he could not determine if anyone was there.

"Well, I'll go ahead," said Brandalay. "If I raise my left hand it means I see nothing across the road and you must ride hard. If I draw my sword, we are fighting."

"Seems clear enough. What if you are pierced by an arrow and fall from your horse?" Greyrawk grinned.

"Then you play it as you see fit. Don't stop and ask me anything."

"Don't worry; I shall be moving too fast to see to you."

Brandalay looked at him.

"Ian, I almost believe you when you say that."

"Your face is very familiar. You've never told me your given name."

"No, I haven't."

"Well?"

"Tarlac. I was once Lord Tarlac Brandalay. I had lands to the southeast near the town of Triss. Now, just call me Brandalay. Let's go."

"Hm. Never heard of you. Never been in Peradon? Led any caravan's through the desert?"

"I said I've never set foot on Anavar. Our paths have never crossed before. Of that at least, I am sure."

Brandalay rode briskly ahead while Greyrawk watched his progress.

Brandalay rode to within several yards of the bridge and raised his left hand. Greyrawk spurred his horse and charged forward. Brandalay waited until Greyrawk was nearly upon him and he charged forward too. They crossed the bridge together as shouts came from both sides of the road. A dozen horsemen gave chase. Greyrawk grinned at Brandalay when he saw they had the jump on the ambushers. They rode hard and kept the lead constant. Greyrawk Mountain rose up two miles beyond them. They would reach it ahead of their pursuers. Hooves pounded the road and the horses labored the last half-mile, but Greyrawk and Brandalay leapt off their mounts and led the horses into the thick brush at the base of the mountain. Swiftly, they passed upward into the constant wind and mist that surrounded the summit.

Greyrawk looked back and their pursuers stopped at the foot of the mountain. They cursed at Greyrawk but would not climb the hill. Not one would venture up the trail. Some of them must have been part of the first group that tried to catch him.

"Where are Arenna's men?" asked Greyrawk.

"I do not know," said Brandalay. "I was starting to worry about my horse making it all the way. They should have been here. But I will tell you one thing: neither Arenna's men nor our pursuers will come up the mountain. No one will."

"You have."

"I've never been accused of high intelligence. Can you tell me you saw nothing strange up here?"

"No. I have seen things."

"As I did the one other time I was here. I thought I would never come back. I hoped I would never come back." He looked at the wild overgrown summit.

"Why, Tarlac Brandalay, what a thing to say," said Ioane Adan. She stepped out of the trees to meet them and Greyrawk felt his pulse quicken. She was as stunning as before and looked even more alive if possible. Brandalay stared at her; a vision out in an unlikely place.

"You are a distant relation to the Greyrawk's, are you not, Brandalay?"

"Who are you?" asked Brandalay. "Where did you come from?"

"Her name is Ioane Adan."

"Yes, thank you for the introduction, Ian. Brandalay, this was once called Adan's Hill before Men came here. My father is Jerue Adan and he named this place."

"Celaeri?"

"Very good, Brandalay. You see, Ian, not everyone has forgotten us. I am glad you came back. We have much to discuss. Father wants to meet you and Brandalay will be welcome too. Blood is very important to Celaeri and you both have some Celaeri blood."

"Ioane, I have seen Belderag. He keeps grandfather's sword on his wall. I must get it back."

"Of course you must. It is Celaeri forged, after all. Belderag is unworthy to possess such a treasure. But I am being rude. I have prepared a meal on the summit for you both. Let us dine and continue our discussion. Your horses can graze up there too. The grass is overgrown and needs trimming."

"How did you know we were coming?" asked Greyrawk.

"The view from the summit commands a wide area. I recognized you as you approached."

"And you prepared a meal? I am impressed," said Greyrawk.

"The meal was in progress before I saw you," said Ioane Adan. "We Celaeri do not have that kind of magic."

Brandalay followed Ioane and Greyrawk looked back down the trail but the mist had rolled up and he could see nothing.

For Men the allure of wealth has proved treacherous. The merchant class is strong and the nobles support the larger merchant houses and receive a share of the profits. No other race covets wealth or expects to receive more than they invested in a project, relationship or other kind of interaction. It is widely spoken that the main difference in Men from other races is their shorter lifespan, but that is not what creates the gulf between the races. The Altengud Javon may have created Men, but it is profit that is their true god.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass.

Andara, the jewel of Cresida, hugged the southernmost tip of Amloth across the Teramon Straits from Anavar. A rich trading port and the capital of King Alec Haldane's kingdom, it thrived for the 35 years of the king's reign. Andara was one of the largest cities on Landermass and its order was kept by the largest military force save the army of Calendia on southwestern Anavar. The city was clean and its slums and criminals kept to an area called the Daarke on the southeast side of Andara. The thieves of Daarke ventured out only at the behest of a patron of Andara proper, never looting for themselves, rather for a percentage or fee of the take. King Haldane's minister of law, Waric Faerir, kept a strict vigil on his king's behalf and the system worked for many years.

Andara ran smoother than most cities it's size and the population were industrious and content; there were no rebellions simmering in the alleyways. King Haldane's worries were not for his city and its commerce. Southern Cresida was a paradise in relative terms of course. Northern Cresida was another matter altogether. Dacu Belderag was a powerful man with an overstated value of his self-worth. To King Haldane, he was no better skilled as a lord than any other noble of Cresida. But Belderag believed the north would have fallen into decay if not for his vigilance and Haldane did not agree. Belderag even started a war with the Greyrawk clan, a far older lineage than Belderag's family, and an old power in the north. Claiming the Greyrawk's were tainted by the influence of the Celaeri, a vanished race, Belderag defeated the Greyrawk's and tore down their castle. It was rumored that Belderag's elite fighting force, the Red Hawks, executed any Greyrawk that survived. It had been years since Belderag had troubled the king's repose, but times change.