The Vlakan King (Book 3) (16 page)

The trader kept away from the mages and Davan figured Brevin knew his business. Blackthorne ignored Davan but Kerreth was happy to have him walk at his side. The plains never changed day after day. Then one day Davan realized the trees were finally grower closer.

The trees quickly filled their path, growing close together. Kerreth made a winding passage for several miles and they made poor time. Berlo thought he heard whispers among the branches.

"Master Vicare, do you hear anything?"

"No. There is nothing. Ignore it."

"Ignore nothing?" asked Blackthorne. "You have interesting concepts in that magic school of yours. Or do you just ignore things you don't understand?"

Dimont did not answer. Berlo was deep in thought and Blackthorne chuckled to himself. Kerreth shook his head as he did with all of Blackthorne's verbal jabs.

"What danger is nearby, Master Kerreth?" asked Berlo.

"I told you to ignore it," said Dimont.

"The voices were of the dead Wierlun," said Kerreth. "The trees speak for them. Their ending was a tragedy and their lamentation never ceases."

"Will they harm us?" asked Berlo.

"Only if you let them," said Kerreth. "Keep them out of your heads."

"How do we do that?" asked Davan.

"By not being stupid boy," said Blackthorne. "So only Dimont and Berlo need to worry."

"That was unkind," said Dimont.

"Even the trader is smarter about magic than you are," said Blackthorne.

"Ha, I'd wager against that," said Dimont. "I am a full Mage and instructor at the Mage Academy." Berlo looked back at the trader whose face was in shadow.

"Would you now?" said Blackthorne with a smile that changed Davan's perception of the sorcerer. "I'd go for that bet."

"Blackthorne," said Kerreth coolly.

Davan drew close to Kerreth. "Why does Brevin wish to hide his identity?"

It took a moment for Davan to realize the deep rumble was the beginning of a laugh. "Ah, well. It's really up to him to tell you. Not my place."

Davan listened to the sniping between Blackthorne and Dimont as he slipped back to the wagon. He pulled himself up on the seat beside Brevin.

"I heard them," said Brevin. "And now you want to know why I keep to myself."

"Exactly. Are you in trouble?"

"Ha, not the way you think. And Dimont couldn't bring me trouble I couldn't handle. I turned away from a life I didn't want and now I am happy as a trader. It's a good life and I do not want to give it up."

"Why would you give it up?"

"Dimont would try to convince me to return to the Mage Academy."

"Were you a student?"

"Long ago. But I was the Headmaster when I left, rather abruptly. It is widely believed that I did not leave of my own accord. There are many factions within the Academy and I grew tired of the discord. Dimont's group wants me to return to root out the subversive element of the Mage Academy. I chose not to return."

"You were the Headmaster? You must be powerful."

"Ha. There are many levels of power, Davan, which you will soon find out. I may be stronger than some but weaker than others. It would be a good tenant to remember, that there is always someone stronger than you. Remember that and you will limit foolish endeavors. You are traveling in strange company now and your life will never be the same."

Brevin would not say more and Davan walked silently along Kerreth again. The forest muffled sounds and the visibility was minimal. The breezes could not penetrate this far into the wood and the air became stuffy. The huge lichen draped trees towered over them. Davan glanced at Kerreth, but the huge man walked with a purpose heedless of his surroundings, or at least he appeared so to Davan. The light dimmed so much that it was difficult to make out the features of his companions. He squinted to see further around him and he thought he saw a figure a few yards off keeping pace with them.

"Kerreth!" Davan whispered. "There's someone over there."

"Yes, I know. He's been watching us for several minutes. If he thought we were enemies he would have attacked. So there's no worry for you. Still, stay close. He doesn't always do what is expected."

The trek seemed endless to Davan. He frequently glanced to where he thought the figure was but saw nothing. He tried to emulate Kerreth's relaxed air but could not. After several hours the forest grew light and their path rose. The terrain changed from the worn path into a rocky trail but it seemed little traveled. Davan could no longer see the figure traveling with them. Kerreth answered the unspoken question.

"This rocky path is seldom found by wanderers. No one reaches the hilltop that is not expected. Their enemies will wander for days in the close wood without seeing the hill."

When they reached the top Davan saw that it was more than one hill bunched together and bathed in sunlight. Several small houses had been built in a careless pattern around a large oak tree. Kerreth led them to the tree.

The houses were all single story built into the slopes of the hills with bushes growing up to the rooftops. Wild flowers covered many of the roofs as well as the ground up to the shade of the oak tree. Davan saw no people but the birds sang and it appeared peaceful. Kerreth dismounted and sat against the trunk of the tree. Dimont and Berlo stood together by their horses. Brevin left his wagon and sat next to Kerreth. Blackthorne walked to the larger of the houses and rapped on the door. The door opened and a tall man with pale blue skin and long black hair stepped out and waved to Kerreth. A Daerlan and a slender dark haired woman followed him.

"I'm Loric and this is Moria," he said to the mages. He only introduced the Daerlan, not the slender woman.

"I am Vicare Dimont and this is Berlo."

"Ah, mages from Calendia?" said Loric.

"Mages!" said the dark woman, her eyes flashed.

"And who are you?" asked Dimont.

"I am Wynne. Blackthorne, why did you bring them?"

"I brought them," said Kerreth.

"And why did you bring him!" asked a young man, stepping out of the forest, pointing at Davan. "I don't like him."

"Peace, Jarius," said Wynne. "I'm sure Kerreth has good reasons."

"I do. He is Davan Greyrawk."

"Davan? Why are you here?" asked Loric. He stepped around the others and hugged Davan.

"Uncle Loric! Father has disappeared. Strange things have been happening."

"Ian is missing?"

"That's why he is here," said Kerreth. "We will speak of it later. We need to speak to Gerrand."

"Gerrand?" asked Berlo. "It is true."

"Of course," said a voice. "I am still here, but you Berlo Bardun and you Vicare Dimont shall never speak of this meeting." An old man, bearded and bald, his skin pulled tight over his face and top of his head. He leaned on his staff but did not seem a great age but Gerrand the sorcerer had seen several hundred years. At his side was a small woman, her black hair streaked with silver.

"I am Faeya Ryr. And you are all welcome here."

Wynne mumbled under her breath.

"This is my home too," said Jarius. "I don't trust Davan. He's brought evil here."

"He is hunting evil," said Kerreth. "He is hunting Vlakan."

Davan sat apart from the others with a bowl of hot stew. He took a spoonful and then watched the others, disbelieving the world he had entered. The Talos Company was legendary; to Davan it was bedtime stories and adventures spun by the bards who passed through the inn. Yet, they stood before him. Kerreth Veralier part Zidar and part what? Six and a half foot tall, board and immensely strong, tusks jutting from his lower lip and rumored to be thousands of years old. Davan saw one of the little folk, the Tuors and two Daerlan plus various mages and sorcerers. Even Davan had heard of Gerrand, the stooped old man once the greatest sorcerer on Anavar, now surpassed by the dark and brooding Blackthorne. The dark haired woman, Wynne was a sorceress and the mother of Melian the witch who tempted unwary travelers into her snares. Brevin, the trader who visited the inn several times a year was really a stranger, a mage once the head of the Mage Academy. Then there was the strange young man who sat staring at him. It was hard to swallow the stew even as tasty as this. His uncle Loric sat next to Kerreth gesturing emphatically about something or another. Only Gerrand's companion, Faeya Ryr, made Davan feel at ease but he knew she was a sorceress too. The fat mage who served the stew shuffled over to him and sat down without asking.

"Ah, it's good to get off my feet," said Dvorak Annis. "Do you like the stew?"

"Yes, it's very good."

"Thank you. This crew rarely says anything about it. They do shovel it in however."

"Is this the entire Talos Company?"

"Oh, no. The regular troops are over that hill. There's a wide grassy area where they pitch their tents. Must be four hundred soldiers. This is Gerrand's little village and only the leaders are allowed here. Gerrand doesn't want word of him and some of the others to get out. He likes being retired and if all of Landermass believes him dead it is much quieter here."

"I never knew anyone that could do magic," said Davan.

"What about Brevin? You've known him a long time."

"But he was a trader, not a mage. He never said anything about it."

"Yeah, most of us are that way. Don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"How old is everyone? I mean Kerreth is thousands of years old; is everyone the same?"

"That is a delicate question Davan. I cannot answer for everyone but Kerreth, Moria, Taina, Loric and Blackthorne are over a thousand years old if not more."

"Loric?"

"Ah, yes. His is another life hidden from you. Loric is nearly as old as Kerreth. Only Navir is older than Kerreth but don't expect to see Navir. He hasn't been around for years. Hobart is a few hundred years old and Faeya Ryr, Gerrand and Wynne are under a thousand but I don't know the particulars."

"What about him?" He pointed to the watcher.

"Jarius? Looks about your age but I imagine he's over a hundred. Funny kid. Wynne has held onto him so tight he's not grown up yet. Guess she doesn't want him to run away and turn dark like Melian."

"Well, thanks for the stew," said Davan. "I'm going close my eyes and try to nap. Let me know if anything exciting happens."

"Sure will Davan. Sure will."

The land of Arda lies in the northwest corner of Anavar and for centuries was the home of the Daerlan. Written history does not record where the Daerlan originated or if Arda was where they began, but it was Arda where they flourished. One of the eldest races of Landermass the Daerlan was reputed to have been created by the Altengud Dwallond to compliment Cothos' creation of the Zidar. While the Zidars lived only on the Isle of Cothos in the first days, the Daerlan were spread over the north of Anavar among the rolling hills and meandering forests. The Daerlan raced across Arda like deer, laughing singing, naming the animals and plants, rivers, lakes and mountains. They sang instead of speaking and their thoughts were shared by a glance. They were children of Landermass and they molded Arda with their joy. For countless ages they flourished and their civilization included cities rising from the hilltops woven within the hills and trees. The trees themselves grew in the shapes the Daerlan desired to provide frameworks for their homes and halls. The Daerlan were Dwallond's bright children and outshone even the brilliant minds of the Zidar. However, the Jungeguds knew jealously.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass.

After the Daerlan departed Arda was left for whoever would claim it but the taint of the Menaloch was strong and no being less than a god could withstand it. Wandering gods would stop now and again but the land remained desolate. Then the god of hunting came, and then the god of war and together they reclaimed a small portion of Arda and began weaving their spells to draw flies to their web. Warga, the Altengud of hunting with the aspect of a wolf, and Wulfgeld, the Jungegud of war with the aspect of a man with a lion's head, prepared a place for magic to be nurtured and grow.

A man came in answer to their summons and Erast became a great sorcerer. He spread his influence wide and began to entertain guests from the Curesia city of Jespin who craved his instruction. The king of Curesia called for help to rid Jespin of Erast's darkness. There was war waged against the tower but no weapon could harm it. Eventually the Talos Company rode to the tower and called Erast to battle. In his conceit he strode forth with his magic crackling around him, but he did not recon with Blackthorne the Sorcerer. Although the struggle was fierce and tore the land Erast was defeated at last by Blackthorne and few remembered Erast in later years. However, his tower remained and endured.

The tower rose several hundred feet but no brick or mortar was used. The outer walls were as slick as glass. The base was very large and wide allowing for storage and barracks in the lower levels. It rose gradually then narrowed after two stories until it stretched to the tower parapets. The view from the top commanded the land for miles. After many years, a solitary figure appeared at the base of the tower, raising its hands in supplication. The tower shimmered and a door appeared in the smooth stone. The figure vanished inside.

Another decade had passed before the figure appeared outside the tower, walking among the rocks and drawing in the dirt with a stick. Soon the rains came and after the land around the tower bloomed, but it could not spread over the rest of Arda. It was a garden surrounded by wastelands. The disease of the Menaloch would never leave the land.

One day a tall pale man arrived at the tower and stuck the side of it with a stick. The sound rang through the dead air. His small troop of Celaeri soldiers stood ready.

"Hello! Let me in! I am Machel Moet and I have come as required!"

There was no answer. Machel Moet found a large rock with a smoothed top and sat on it. He waited. His Men kept watch during the long wait.

Machel Moet did not hear the man approach. Suddenly, he was aware of the man standing next to him. Machel Moet stood up and was surprised to have forgotten how short the yellow man was. His head was bald and bushy eyebrows framed his bright blue eyes. It was difficult to guess his age. The soldiers looked around in amazement: the man had walked right past them unseen.