The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 (29 page)

“No need,” she replied. Her voice was soft and gentle as a summer shower. “I know what you need.”

“How?” Faxon’s skepticism was plentiful and plainly apparent.

“Here,” she said, tapping her temple. She smiled. Furia grabbed the rope she had swung down on and briskly shimmied to the top of the platform.

Watching her move among the pallets and sacks, barrels and bags, was like watching an exceptionally skilled dancer execute an arrangement written for one. She dodged around others working from the same pallets, plucking items from cases, hangers, and bins and tossing them down to Faxon and the others. As she continued her lithe performance among the rafters, the pile of supplies and provisions grew until Tiadaria wondered how they were going to carry everything they apparently needed.

A moment after that worry entered Tia’s mind, Furia leapt off the platform above, executed an incredible somersault in midair, and landed on her feet beside them. She plucked a sheet of paper from the counter, took a pencil from behind her ear, and began tallying their purchases.

Wynn looked at Tia with raised eyebrows and she just shrugged. The day had been full of surprises. That was for certain. After Furia had written out their bill of sale, she handed it to Faxon.

“A pleasure meeting all of you, come again any time.” With that, she was gone, swinging up into the rafters from her line and surveying the warehouse floor for another client to assist.

Gunther hopped from crate to crate behind the counter, coming to where they were still standing, dumbstruck. He held out his hand for the bill of sale, snapping his pudgy fingers to get Faxon’s attention when he took too long.

“Best puller I’ve ever had,” he said as he perused the sheet of paper. “I told ye that ye’d be set in no time.”

“And you delivered, as always, Gunther. What’s the damage?” Faxon pulled a heavily laden purse from inside his robes. The dwarf said something in a language that sounded like a rock slide inside a bass drum. Tia was surprised to hear Faxon reply in kind.

Wynn leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “They’re dickering. Its ancient dwarven. I don’t know enough to understand all of it, but Faxon’s driving a hard bargain.”

The rumbling back-and-forth exchange continued for several minutes until the dwarf thrust out his hand and Faxon took it, pumping it three times.

“Well bargained, lad,” Gunther said with a shake of his head. “I never should have taught ye that.”

Faxon smiled. “We all have our vices, Gunther.” He took several large gold crowns from his purse and laid them on the table. From inside his robe, he added a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. The dwarf made the package disappear under the counter, then picked up the coins and slipped them in a pocket.

“A pleasure,” Gunther said with a smile. “Take care of yeself, lad. And your friends.” He moved off down the counter.

Faxon turned to Tia and Wynn. “Let’s get packed up and on the road. I want to be beyond Overwatch by nightfall.”

Faxon rooted around in the pile of supplies and produced three large travel packs of fine leather. The supplies disappeared into the packs in relatively short order and Faxon ushered them outside. As Tia hefted her pack, she wondered at how light it was and how easily it conformed to her back and shoulders. These weren’t just ordinary packs. They had to be enchanted.

There was no way the coins that Faxon had given to Gunther could have accounted for the massive amount of provisions they had purchased. Tia had been curious about what was in the paper-wrapped package before. Now she was dying of curiosity. Faxon caught her eye.

“Yes, they’re enchanted. No, I’m not telling you what was in the package. Let’s go.”

Tia sulked the entire way back to the inn, where she changed into her armor and hung her sword belt from her hips, well below the pack. Wynn traded his travel clothes for robes and they set out into the rapidly aging day.

The road leading out of Overwatch took them around the greater bulk of the city and up to the crest of a rise that was nearly as high as the upper level of the city. Looking down, it was easy to understand why the marvelous place was called Overwatch. From the upper levels of the city, especially from the highest towers that lined the cliff-side over the lower city, one could easily see the entire river valley and a good stretch of the land beyond. They passed through the city gates, which were well guarded by mercenaries, and out onto the road that led north.

They stopped at a livery just outside the city and Faxon inquired about the rate for three horses to take north. The stableman quoted a price so outrageously high that Tiadaria thought he was joking. It was just as well that she didn’t say anything, for the man was completely serious. He and Faxon settled down to the serious work of dickering for an acceptable price. When they finally came to an agreement, the sum was still more than Tiadaria could credit.

“Remember,” the hostler reminded Faxon as he led the beasts out by their reins. “They’ll take you to the Narrow Pass. No farther. They’re well trained to return here. I’ll expect them back tonight sometime.”

Faxon agreed, again, to the terms and helped Tia onto the unfamiliar mount. She missed Nightwind and the way that he knew her every command and mood. Still, any horse was better than no horse at all, even if they would only have them for the first leg of their journey. The rest would be done on foot. The first half hour or so of their departure from Overwatch was conducted in silence as the mounts and riders got acquainted.

They rode three abreast, keeping the horses at a reasonable pace, fast enough to make good time but not so fast that conversation was impossible between them.

“Are there any cities further north than Overwatch?” Wynn asked as they followed the cobbled road. Far on the horizon, they could see the snow-capped peaks of the Frozen Frontier.

“Nothing quite as large or hospitable. There are a handful of towns leading up toward the mountains, and of course the clan villages.” Faxon eyed Tiadaria and she snorted.

“I’ve heard that the clans are all savages,” Wynn said thoughtfully. Faxon chuckled and shook his head.

“I’ll show you a savage,” Tiadaria retorted, her eyes flashing.

“You were part of a clan?” Wynn’s eyes widened. His dismay was so comical that Tia couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

“Yes. I was the Folkledre’s daughter.” She grimaced. “For all the good that did me.”

“So you were a princess?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“I don’t--”

“Let it go, Wynn.” Faxon interjected, trying to spare the young man from any further blunders on his part.

Tia looked at the quintessentialist and then back to Wynn. “My father sold me into slavery. That’s how I got this.” She slipped a finger into her collar, drawing it as far from her neck as it would go and then dropping it. “But it’s also how I met the Captain and ultimately came to the Imperium. So I’d say it was a fair trade.”

“I’m sorry,” Wynn seemed more uncomfortable than her easy retelling of her misadventure should account for. “I didn’t know. Faxon could remove that. He invented witchmetal, you know.”

“I’m going to scout ahead,” Faxon announced suddenly, and spurred his mount into a canter. He didn’t slow again until he was far ahead of them on the road.

“I know he could,” Tia answered, looking after Faxon, her expression thoughtful. “I chose to keep it.”

“You did?” Tia couldn’t tell if Wynn was impressed or horrified. Or possibly a little of both. “Why?”

“Because it reminds me of someone who meant a lot to me. Someone who taught me that what I was wasn’t all I could be.”

“The Captain?”

“Yes”

It was Wynn’s turn to look thoughtful. “Was he a rogue mage too?”

Tia went rigid so quickly that her horse whinnied in alarm. She reigned in her mount so hard that Wynn actually walked past her and had to turn his beast around to look her in the face.

“How did you know I was a rogue mage?”

“I’ve known since the first time you touched me in the inn,” he shrugged. “Every quintessentialist, apprentice or not, knows what link-shock feels like. I know you tried to cover it up, so I didn’t say anything. It’s only logical that Faxon knows, so I figured if Faxon knew and you didn’t want me to know, that was okay.”

She shook her head. Tia suddenly felt like her thoughts were swimming in a hundred different directions at once.

“Why? Wynn, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re--”

“Too rational? Too logical? A stick in the mud that always follows the rules?”

Tia blushed and dropped her eyes. “Well. Yes.”

“At first, I was tempted to turn you in,” he admitted candidly. “But the more I got to know you, the more I got to like you, and, well, I figured it couldn’t hurt to break the rules just this once.”

“I appreciate your keeping my secret.” She laughed. “We didn’t get off to the best start. I’m a little surprised you didn’t turn me in to the inquisitors right then.”

Wynn shrugged. “Your heart was in the right place. It’s one of the things I love about you.” Tiadaria’s head jerked up and Wynn ground his teeth. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! In the candor of the moment he had let his guard slip a little too far. “As a person,” he amended lamely, his cheeks blazing red. “We should probably catch up with Faxon.”

He turned his mount around and flicked the reigns, urging it on up ahead where Faxon was waiting.

“Wynn--”

“It's alright, Tia. Just forget it and let’s catch up.”

Tiadaria lagged behind a bit, trying to put her troubled thoughts in order. Wynn’s revelation, if it was one, was troubling on a couple different levels. Maybe he did actually love her as a friend, which was perfectly understandable and to be expected. They’d been working together very closely and she enjoyed his company. Still, it didn’t sound like he meant as friends and the fact that he couldn’t even look at her after he stumbled over his words...

Faxon and Wynn were waiting for her and when she caught up, their journey had gone silent. They rode in absolute quiet for quite some time until they reached a rocky pass, apparently the only way past the nearly vertical rock face that they had come upon. Large boulders littered the road here.

“Looks like we’ve reached the end of civilization,” Wynn said.

“Hush.” Faxon held up a hand, his head cocked to one side. Tia heard it too, a scratching, like claws on rock. Her scimitars rang as she drew them from their scabbards.

The horses reared almost simultaneously, scenting something they feared. The trio had to hold tightly to the beasts to keep them from bolting back the way they had come. Sensing something not quite right, Tiadaria slipped into sphere sight. She saw the black writhing mass crouched behind a nearby boulder.

“Xarundi!” she cried, slipping back into the physical realm and brandishing a sword at the rock the creature was hiding behind. She dropped the point of her blade, ready to run down the Xarundi when it appeared. It stepped out from behind the rock, its arms spread wide. Tia thought the creature looked odd and realized that its strange look was because its tail was missing.

“Please hold your blade,” the Xarundi’s grasp of the common tongue was nearly human, but carried the burr of an underlying growl in the pronunciation. “I mean neither you nor your beasts any harm.”

It took several moments of tense conversation and maneuvering to settle the horses and to remove themselves and their gear from the terrified animals. Faxon slapped them on the rump and sent them on their way back to the livery. Throughout the process, Tiadaria kept her scimitar pointed at the Xarundi. The longer she looked at it, the more she realized there was something familiar about it.

“I’ve seen you before,” Tiadaria said, motioning to the Xarundi with the tip of the blade. “You were in the tavern in Overwatch. You were drinking with humans.”

“Yes. I am called Exile, for my name was taken from me when my people took my tail.”

“Your own people cut your tail off?” Tiadaria winced. “That’s barbaric.”

Exile shrugged. “It is the way of the Chosen. My shame is inconsequential. I must speak to you and we must speak quickly, time is short.”

“We’re speaking now,” Tia pointed out. “Say what you will.” She glanced at Faxon and he nodded slightly. She slipped her scimitars back into their scabbards.

“The evening before the three of you came to Overwatch, a Xarundi war party arrived through the gate.”

“And the mercenaries did nothing?” Tiadaria was incredulous.

“The rules--” Exile began.

“Are different in Overwatch,” Tia snapped. “Yes, I know. What of this war party and why are you telling us?”

“I tell you because there is no love lost between myself and the remainder of the Chosen. The leader of the war party was speaking to the others in our tongue, certain that the inferiors wouldn’t understand them.

“They seek a powerful relic to the north, a relic that you also seek, and they mean to kill you before you can take it.”

“What else is new? Where are they now?”

Exile motioned to the pass. “They’re a half day ahead of you, to the north. You must hurry to stop them.”

Tia cast a critical eye on the Xarundi. “Why are you so interested in stopping them? And if it’s that important, why didn’t you do something.”

“I am no longer a warrior,” Exile said, waving a dismissive hand at his sagging middle and graying fur. “I am old and fat and no match for young warriors or the High Priest. As for stopping them, you must. Any item of power makes them a danger to all the cities of man. Including Overwatch, which is now my home.” The Xarundi dropped to all fours. “Heed my warning. Please.”

Exile bounded off down the road the way they had come without another word, leaving the trio to exchange dubious glances with each other.

“So what was that about?” Tia asked.

“He sounded honest enough to me,” Wynn remarked. “If he’s been living in Overwatch, I can understand his wanting to protect the city.”

Faxon sighed, scrubbing his face with his palms. “I think we have to take his warning at face value. I fail to see what he gains by lying about the others being a half-day ahead.”

“Let’s say that he’s telling the truth,” Tiadaria said, trusting her own instincts in the matter. “Where does that put us?”

“In a bad position,” Faxon replied. “Not only are we behind, but we’re on the defensive. We don’t know where they are, or what their plans are.”

“Fantastic.”

“We can’t do anything about it tonight,” Wynn said, ever the voice of reason. “It’s getting dark and if it’s getting dark out here, it’s going to be really dark in there.” He pointed to the opening of the pass. “Let’s find someplace to spend the night and try to make up some time, quickly, carefully, in the morning.”

Faxon rubbed his chin. “Wynn makes a good point. The Xarundi are largely nocturnal. They can travel in the day, but it’s unlikely they will. We might be able to make up more ground while the sun is up. Might even be able to catch them with their guard down.”

“Alright,” Tia rubbed her palms on her thighs. “So where do we bed down for the night?”

Wynn’s eyes took on the half-glazed look of someone half inside the Quintessential Sphere. He pointed southeast, back the way they had come.

“Looks like an abandoned hunter’s hut. It’s not very far.”

“Good thinking, Wynn.” Faxon clapped his apprentice on the back.

Having a destination and plan helped shake them of the uncertainty that had spawned from their encounter with Exile. The hunter’s hut was in good condition, with cots and cooking implements. It was obviously used often, as there was a recent layer of ash in the fire pit. They sat around the fire telling stories until late in the evening. They enjoyed themselves, but the talk was hushed and the looming specter of impending battle weighed heavily on them all.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when Zarfensis finally relented enough to allow the war party to stop and rest. The air had grown colder and patches of snow were becoming more and more common as they forced their way north.

“I understand your urgency, High Priest,” the cleric said to him when they stopped. “But the warriors need food. They cannot keep up this pace indefinitely and we will be entering the snowy wastes soon.”

Zarfensis nodded. “I understand. We’ll stop here for the day. There’s still some time before dawn for hunting and we will hunt again in the evening before we depart. Will that be adequate for our needs?”

The cleric nodded, obviously relieved. “Yes, Your Holiness.”

“Very good. See to the warriors.”

As the cleric and the others were seeking a suitable place for a temporary warren, Zarfensis climbed to the top of the nearest ridge and gazed out across the land. Far to the south he could see a thin smudge of smoke crawling into the predawn sky. That would be the girl and her companions. They’d be hard pressed to make up the distance during the day, even if they pushed themselves to the very limits of their endurance. He turned and looked to the north.