Child of Fate (5 page)

Alto’s mouth fell open at the bold insult.
Karthor shook his head while Drefan, just ahead of them, chuckled.
“Ignore his jibes,” Karthor said as the wizard spurred his horse to
ride ahead. “He’s a good man. He’s just never had much in the way
of faith or respect for those who do.”

“But he’s your father,” Alto blurted out
without thinking.

“Aye, and he loves me. He’s just had a hard
time accepting my calling. He wanted me to become a wizard.”

“I can’t imagine you like that,” Alto
admitted.

“Me either,” Karthor admitted. “All his
lessons after my mother died about higher beings and different
planes of existence only drove me to understand the divinity of it
all. That was how I found Leander.”

Alto grunted. “My father made sure we made a
weekly devotion to Leander, with a greater one when it came time to
plant and another as thanks during harvest.”

“Most farmers do. Leander is the patron of
growth. The saint stands for much more than that, though.”

“What else is there?”

Ahead, they could hear Kar groan. Karthor
grinned and shook his head at his father’s antics. “Leander stands
for the light of truth and honesty. Revelation of secrets and
deception. Strength in the face of darkness and defense of the
innocent.”

“All of that? I never knew,” Alto admitted,
impressed.

“Aye, and there’s more. My order has greater
powers against those who have forsaken the daylight and turned to
necromancy.”

“Necro-what?”

“If you’re going to educate him, at least do
it right!” Kar spouted. He wheeled his horse about, making William
cry out as his own steed shied away from Kar’s. “Necromancy is a
foul art. It harnesses evil forces and can drain the life of a
person.”

“What does that have to do with Leander?”
Alto asked.

Kar began to mutter something but Karthor’s
rising voice overrode his father. “The power of Leander is attuned
to goodness and light. Necromancy is dark and evil; it cannot long
survive in the light. Leander’s servants can wield the power of
light to purge the evil.”

“You can do that?”

“Well, I have a limited ability right now,”
Karthor admitted. Kar let a scornful laugh slip out. Karthor
frowned and added, “I’m learning more and proving myself to the
church, which in turn allows the church to teach me more.”

Kar spat to the side. “Don’t serve the
church; that’s no better than serving a tyrant. If you must chase
such foolish things, serve the Divine itself.”

Karthor sighed and made to respond but Alto
beat him to it. “I don’t understand, what’s the difference?”

“At last! There’s hope for today’s youth
yet!” Kar cried out. “Men hunger for power, Alto. All men do,
though we claim it’s for greater causes. The church of Leander, or
any other church, is run by men, not saints or the Allfather. They
seek restrictions and constraints to keep people in line. It
justifies their positions and keeps them in power.”

“What of the king?”

“Ah ha, you see this, Tristam? You’ve finally
found a boy with brains!” Kar lowered his voice and turned back to
Alto and Karthor. “The king is a man, always remember that. Royalty
is no exception, but royalty is burdened with responsibility. They
have no divine right, no matter what they say. Well, I suppose
that’s not true in the case of lands ruled by an oligarchy, but
that’s a lesson for another day. Any normal king must know that his
reign only lasts as long as his subjects will abide it.”

“What of the king’s armies?”

“They are soldiers but remember they are also
men that will grow tired with an unfit king as quick as the
commoners.”

Alto thought about the wizard’s words and
found them making sense. Rebellion against King Harold went against
everything he knew, but he’d been raised to believe the king’s law
was good and, as far as he could tell, it was.

“Kar, leave the boy alone a bit. He’s to be
thinking of his training if he wants to impress me!” Tristam
said.

Kar shoved his pipe in his mouth and chewed
on it in annoyance. He offered Alto a shrug and rode forward beside
William again. Karthor offered Alto a smirk after his father left
them.

“He’ll talk you into a corner if you’re not
careful,” Karthor said.

“He seems wise enough,” Alto said, picking
his words carefully.

“Wise? To some extent. There’s no denying
he’s one of the smartest men I’ve ever come across.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

Karthor smiled and shook his head. “I wish it
were, my friend. I wish it were.”

Alto reflected on Karthor’s words as they
lapsed into silence and rode the morning away.

* * * *

“Prepare yourself, Alto, today the easy work
is done,” Tristam told him as they broke camp two mornings
later.

Alto fought the urge to chuckle. It had been
anything but easy so far. He was saddle sore from riding and he’d
done the brunt of the work setting up tents and breaking them down,
not to mention the firewood he’d cut and hauled both nights. Hard
work was what he’d built his life on; he knew better than to speak
back, but at least on the farm it had been split evenly amongst the
family.

“Today we’ve the unenviable task of riding
and waiting for the gobs to attack us,” Tristam continued. “Lace
your armor well and keep your sword loose in your scabbard.”

Tristam paused and turned to fully appraise
the young man. “You’re no cook’s monkey, that’s for sure, but
you’ve done us great service so far. Prove we’ve not wasted our
time on you.”

“I will,” Alto vowed.

Tristam nodded. “Good. Now if I were you, I’d
stick with your bow. You can shoot an arrow on the run?”

Alto nodded. Food was harder to come by on
the farm as the winter stores ran empty. He’d done his share of
hunting squirrel, rabbit, wolf, deer, moose, and even helped his
father quarter and bring back a moose once. Squirrel and rabbit
were the hardest, but he’d learned how to hunt them.

“Aye, well a goblin on the run is much the
same; there’s no predicting how they’ll run. How you shoot them,
though, that’s what matters. If you’ve a line of warriors set to
take them, aim for the ones in the rear so the ones in the front
don’t know you’re picking off their mates. If it’s just you, shoot
the ones at the front first so the others trip over their dead or
at least see you’re not to be trifled with. They might rout.”

“I never knew there was strategy to killing
goblins,” Alto admitted.

“Lad, there’s a strategy to everything in
life! Take that lass at the Foaming Mug. Making her wait was a good
thing; it builds up her appreciation of you. She’ll think you must
be important if you’ve been too busy to visit. That’s one of many
tricks to winning her heart. Or at least winning her affections!”
Tristam chuckled at his own ribald humor.

Alto blushed and worked on tightening the
ties on the bundles of tents before he began loading them on the
horses. Tristam moved off while Alto finished his job. The farm boy
suppressed a groan as he climbed onto Sebas, and then made sure his
bow and his quiver of arrows were in reach and ready.

A handful of moments later, Tristam bade them
move out and onto the northern trail. They were less than half a
day’s travel from the Northern Divide Mountains. Beyond the
mountains there was only tundra and wild lands, but the mountains
themselves were said to host everything from goblins to giants.
Rumor held that in years long past, even dragons had soared from
the mountains to steal the cattle and sheep of ranchers, and
sometimes the ranchers themselves!

“Remember to mark your foes well. The Kelgryn
people to the east wear the same furs and look the same, too!”
Gerald called out to a mixture of laughter.

Alto’s eyes widened. He’d heard of the
Kelgryn but never seen one. He turned to Karthor and whispered,
“I’d heard the Kelgryn were the same as us?”

Karthor chuckled. “They are, but Gerald’s
right that they often wear hides. Along the shores of the ocean,
they’re exposed to the cold water and winds. They make their living
off the seas more than they do off the land. You’ll never see one
as short as a gob though, unless it’s a child.”

“Why would Gerald say such things?”

“In jest. Most people have little exposure to
the Kelgryn. They stick to themselves unless they’re raiding.”

“Raiding?”

“Yes, they will sail far and wide to raid
coastal villages.”

“That’s horrible!”

“It can be, but they haven’t sailed in
Kingdom waters for ages.”

“That doesn’t excuse them,” Alto said.

Karthor shrugged. “I’m of the same mind as
you, my friend, but you’ve already seen the world is a bigger
place.”

Alto stared at him with a furrowed brow. “A
bigger place? Bigger than what?”

Karthor chuckled. “I mean you’ve seen city
life in Portland; it’s busier and more crowded than you once
thought possible. People live in ways you hadn’t imagined.”

Alto grunted at the truth of Karthor’s
statement.

“For the Kelgryn, they have different beliefs
still,” Karthor said. “To them, raiding is acceptable. It’s a way
of life. They even raid their own sister cities.”

Alto gasped. “To what point? Why not trade
for it? Why kill for something they could get peacefully?”

Karthor shrugged. “Such is their way, not
ours.”

Alto fell silent and sought to make sense of
the strange concept. The Kelgryn were only a couple of days’ travel
from his father’s farm but they’d seldom talked about them. His
world was growing larger.

“Pay attention back there,” Tristam called
out. “We’ve come far enough into the northern reaches. If we’re to
find them, they’ll be on us today.”

Alto pursed his lips and cast his eyes about,
looking for any signs of the goblins. He berated himself for not
paying better attention, but that did little to pass the time or
end the torture of not knowing when the raiders might appear.

The small company rode on in silence. Their
only sounds were the occasional whicker of a horse, the creak of
leather, the muffled clink of metal, and the regular cadence of
shod hooves striking the hard-packed ground. Mist rose from the
ground and burned off in the morning sun. The grasses were short
and overrun with weeds and northern wildflowers. Alto wasn’t sure
where the raiders were supposed to come from; the ground was flat
for miles to either side. Ahead, the ground rose to hills and
mountains in the distance.

They rode through the day, passing a single
caravan bound for the south as the sun dipped in the western sky.
“Late for a merchant to be headed south,” Karthor observed after
they’d passed it.

Alto turned in his saddle to look behind
them. Already the last wagon was fading into the pre-dusk gloom. He
turned back. “You suspect something?”

Karthor chuckled. “The minds of merchants are
dangerous things to guess,” he said. “Could be he’s eager to sell
his wares or perhaps he’s heard a tip to get a better price?”

“Or he might be hoping to escape the
raiders,” William offered over his shoulder. “Raiders that lie just
ahead of us, chasing them.”

Alto jerked in his saddle. He lifted himself
up, standing in his stirrups to see over his companions. The road
ahead was as desolate as before. He sat down and saw William’s
shoulders shaking as he laughed silently at Alto.

“What’s ahead of us, anyhow?” Alto asked
Karthor as quietly as he could. Curious as he was, he didn’t want
to risk being reminded again of the need to be quiet.

“Highpeak,” Karthor said. “It’s the
northernmost city in the Kingdom. The people that live there are
mostly soldiers, miners, and the merchants needed to support them.
It’s a small city but they’ve got iron and silver.”

Alto turned again to look behind him. The
caravan was long gone now. He frowned and turned back to the
north.

“What is it?” Karthor asked.

“You’re wondering why the wagons were in such
a rush and the guards and merchants unwilling to talk?” Kar asked,
surprising both of them. The wizard had dropped his horse back to
be near them. “And you’re wondering why there’s been no attack when
all we’ve heard is that the gobs have been raiding everything.”

Alto nodded in spite of the heat in his
cheeks.

“No need to be embarrassed, my boy; you’ve a
sharp mind hidden behind the bales of hay in your ears,” the wizard
said. “In a moment, we’ll know.”

“What will we know?”

“The why of it.”

Alto turned to Karthor, his lips parted in an
unasked question.

“Blackwing?” Karthor asked.

Kar nodded and favored Alto with a wink.

“What’s a Blackwing?” the farm boy asked.

“My father’s familiar.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” Karthor said.

Tristam stopped the company and they waited
while Kar refilled his pipe and lit it. He puffed smoke into the
sky while the others lifted their heads and scanned the skies
around them. Alto looked from one man to the next before searching
the skies himself. He thought to open his mouth and ask what they
were doing but Karthor’s promise that he’d see kept echoing in his
mind.

He turned back to Kar; the wizard had
encouraged his questions and words up till now. He hadn’t even made
fun of him or laughed at him for them. He opened his mouth to ask
when he saw a black shape diving straight down from the sky toward
Kar. “Look out!”

Several oaths followed as the members of the
Blades of Leander turned to see what Alto was pointing at. The
black streak stopped in midair, wings unfolding and flapping to
halt its descent. It was a bird, solid black and larger than any
crow Alto had ever seen.

“Ha, I told you this boy’s got potential!”
Kar cried out as the raven landed on his outstretched forearm.
“Gads bird, you’ve eaten a full meal too many! Now go fly north and
tell me what you see.”