Greyfax Grimwald (32 page)

Dwarf frowned, “You must never mention my spells to a soul, friend. And your use is that you have a strong back and two good feet, and we’ll most likely have need of both before we go too much farther.”

“And how far mights that be, sir?” Cranfallow asked.

Dwarf told him he had come upon his home and lands in ruin, and how he had set forth to try to find his old comrades. Beyond finding them again, he had no notion as to what he should do, or which way to steer, except in their footsteps. Now that he knew they had passed this way, he was eager to set out immediately, but his weariness held him until he would be fresh again, and after setting Ned to watch, Dwarf and Cranfallow took their turns at sleep.

With daybreak barely more than a pale band of golden light across the low sky, the three companions set out from the deserted, ravished town, guiding their steps toward the next settlement, a day’s march ahead, if they hurried, and Dwarf was anxious to reach there to inquire after his friends, so the pace, was set at a rapid walk, and the three strode on all that morning, took an hour’s break at noon, and as the sun went down over Atlanton Earth, crossed the bridged river, answered the sentry’s challenge, and entered a walled stronghold that Cranfallow knew. The friends found an inn shortly, and tired and hungry, went in to their supper and beds.

The innkeeper, a hawk-nosed man of great age, looked on and marveled at the two strange men, gaunt-looking enough for all that, and their strange traveling companion, Dwarf.

“Whatever is this world coming to?” the man muttered, setting out their plates, shaking his head. As if it wasn’t enough a war going on, men taking up with the likes of dwarfs and such.

“Things just isn’t right in that order,” he grumbled aloud, then stopped just inside the galley door, trying to hear the words of the three strangers, who were talking in low, earnest voices, about something or other he didn’t quite catch. He moved closer, bent low, and placed his ear against the door.

“W
hat we needs is more arms,” argued Ned Thinvoice, flushed from the glasses of thick, dark ale. “If we has more men and weapons, we won’t have no trouble.”

“I speak against that, Master Ned,” said Broco, one pointed-toed shoe resting near the warmth of the open fire, “for where there are many, there is no speed. I have need of great haste now, and have no time to wait upon more feet than my own.”

“You can’t gets off by yourself, sir. Your safety lies in speed, but also enough strength to turn away an attack. From the way I sees it, these Gorgolac troops are strong enough in these parts. Any what can take a forted village is strong enough to settle a dwarf, sir, no offense, and I knows you has those wonderful powers and all.” Cranfallow halted, remembering Dwarf’s warning. “Anyhow, you’ll needs the two of us for a bit longer.”

“I don’t doubt but that’s true enough, good Cranfallow, and I thank you for your service. But I don’t know exactly what it is I am about now, except that I must find my old comrades, and that road is as dark a mystery as any I’ve laid eyes on. I know they’re somewhere, but I don’t know to what destination or purpose, and yet that’s where I must follow.”

“Maybe they’ve gone seeking aid, dunking you’re still held by that Dark Queen, or whoever, you was speaking of. There is still those about who stands up for the true and honest folks, what few there is left in these troubled times. I’s heard of a great leader that’s away in the mountains, but I can’t say for sure whether that’s just soldiers’ talk or no. There must be some that knows, though, if we was to ask about.”

“He goes by the name of Greymouse,” offered Ned, feeling important and knowledgeable.

“That’s him, General Greymouse. Folks say he’s a mighty powerful man,” said Cranfallow. Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “They say
he’s
got the powers, too.”

Dwarf couldn’t recall ever having heard of the man they named but the two seemed struck with wonder when they spoke of him. If that were not his real name, he might indeed be one of the kings of the Circle, disguised as a common man, and too, if that were so, he might have word of the whereabouts of Greyfax or Froghorn, or possibly even Otter and Bear. It wasn’t much of a promising plan, he admitted, but it was all he had to keep his hopes up, so he decided then he would set his course for the mountains, and seek this great leader with the odd-sounding name.

“Very well, I shall go in search of this man,” said Dwarf. “And if you wish, you may come. I know not what dangers there are awaiting us, and I can’t ask you to follow me, but if you will, you’re welcome and I thank you. If not, we part friends, and good health and long life.” Dwarf drained his coffee mug and called for the innkeeper to fetch them up a refill.

“Well, turn my old bones to salt if I’ve ever heard the likes,” muttered the hawk-nosed proprietor, bursting back through the door where he’d been listening to the three comrades. He took the tankards and withdrew mumbling under his breath.

“I thinks our good host has been at the keyhole,” laughed Thinvoice.

“Then I hopes his head is full,” replied Cranfallow.

Dwarf looked after the receding figure of the host. ‘I hope he’s up to no mischief. Our way is dark enough without meddling old fools interfering with us.”

“He’s nosy, but harmless enough,” put in Cranfallow. I’s been in his house often enough in the past. Whatever else he is, he’s not one to harm anyone purposely.”

“An unpurposeful hurt can be as painful as any,” said Dwarf, pacing to and fro restlessly before the fire.

Cranfallow fell silent.

Hawknose returned with the ale and coffee, followed by two more men, soldiers with dirty greatcoats and muddy boots. Their gear was that of horsemen, and the pungent smell of horseflesh was heavy upon them. One man carried a leather pouch over his shoulder, and was obviously a dispatch rider of some sort, and as he sat wearily down, he glanced over the companions, eyes finally coming to rest on Dwarf, still pacing before the fire.

“Hail, and well met, strangers. I see by your markings you’re in the 3rd Battalion,” spoke the first man to Cranfallow and Thinvoice.

“We was, but no more. Our outfit was butchered, and we’re the last, escaped from under their noses, with the help of Master Dwarf here,” said Cranfallow, moving away from the fire so the newcomers could warm themselves.

The man’s eyes widened as he studied Dwarf. “Be you of the Old Square, sir?” he asked politely of Broco.

“Nay, friend, I’m of no army. I come from the western land in search of my comrades, and have only been traveling with these two good fellows for a short time. We escaped together from an enemy-held garrison yestereve, and are trying to decide ourselves what’s best to be done.”

“We came through the checkpoint late this afternoon. All was deserted and in rains, and we saw many of the enemy slain. Were you only three that cast that number down?” the second rider, who called himself Cinch, spoke.

“Only three, and luck,” said Dwarf. “They fell to fighting among themselves and we escaped in the fray.”

The first soldier shook his head in wonder. “I’ve seen strange things in my time, but this is the first dwarf warrior I’ve come on. You speak well for yourself, sir. My name is Quickspur, and I serve in the legions of Wentworth.”

“Then well met, friend. My good Cranfallow there and Thinvoice and myself are at your service.”

Hawknose brought in two mugs of ale for his guests.

“Thank you, kind keep. My bones are frozen to the quick. This will go down quite well,” he said, lifting his mug in salute, and the others followed after, with many “good healths” and “long lifes” spoken over cup tops.

After a supper of hot soup and wheat bread, the guests sat once more before the fire, mulling ale and exchanging news.

Quickspur and Cinch, it was learned, were upon the road with urgent messages for a commander that camped in the hills bordering General Greymouse’s rear area, and the two men offered to carry the three with them that far.

“Our steeds are strong enough to carry double, if we go carefully, and I doubt your weight to be more than my horse can carry, Master Broco, even with another fellow behind. You may ride before me, and you, Thinvoice, on my cantle.” Cinch rose as he spoke, and wiping the flecks of foam from his mustache, yawned and stretched. “And now I shall find my rest. I’m full of the journey, and the ale has made me quite drowsy.”

The others rose, and as Quickspur crossed the door, he motioned Dwarf aside.

“We’ll be away before full light, sir, so if you would meet us here to breakfast, we’ll be on our way the sooner.”

“I’ll have our host awaken us, then,” said Dwarf, thanking the man. “Your offer is kind, and it’ll make our journey much easier, for the time. My feet could use the rest of riding awhile, although I dare say I haven’t been much about horses.”

Quickspur laughed. “Perhaps we can find you mounts at our next camp, to carry you where you will. Going about on foot is a weary and dangerous business these days.”

“You speak truth there, friend,” said Dwarf, making for the stairs that led to their sleeping quarters.

“Until the morrow, good rest.” Quickspur turned away to follow after Cinch, already disappearing into a bedroom.

Dwarf blew out the lamp, listening to his two companions already snoring, and went to the shuttered window. He opened a slat, peering out over the cold snowlight that dimly lit the sleeping village, his eyes following the dark road into the distance, trying to see the invisible outlines of the mountains.

“We shall make up some tine tomorrow,” he mused aloud, quietly shutting the window slat again, and lying down on the stiffly starched sheets of the bed. Its comfort overcame him, and he fell asleep quickly, warm and snug for the moment, and at last with a clear plan in mind.

At dawn, Hawknose wakened the sleeping trio with the news that a large company had passed through in the night and the threat of a large battle loomed near at hand, and the innkeeper told them of the Gorgolacs and Worlughs who were reported seen no more than ten leagues distant. Their host was shaken by the news, and wrung his hands as he related his unsettling tale.

“I’ll sleep easier knowing you three were about to help defend my inn, I would, or those other two who came last night. Your speech shows you to be of a good sort, and not the usual ragtaggle that’s been my ruin since these wars began.”

“And what speech of ours have you heard that makes you think we won’t rob you as quickly as the nest fellow?” Dwarf growled, drawing himself up a bit and laying his hand to his firearm. Hawknose stiffened and fell at Dwarf’s knees, still being almost as tall as the little man.

“I beg you, spare me, good Master Dwarf,” he blubbered, clasping at Broco’s shoulders.

“Come, come, old fellow, we mean you no harm. I only meant to scold you for having an ear where it ought not be. Come, I jest, we mean you no harm.”

Hawknose rose, thanking the three men profusely. “I’ll sees to it your sacks are filled with victuals before you leaves, and throw in a few pieces of dried fruit or two.”

“You’ll be amply rewarded, friend, for your trouble. Are Quickspur and Cinch up and ready?” asked Dwarf, palling his hat down firmly onto his head and adjusting his pack straps.

Hawknose started. “I thought I told you,” he began, tugging at his chin whiskers. “They were up two hours ago, and gone with the company that passed through. An officer came to the inn and fetched them, but they left this message for you.” The host handed Dwarf a sealed parchment envelope, boldly addressed in a thin, high hand.

The letter was sealed at the bottom, with common tallow, impressed by the man’s signet ring.

“The horses are below in the stables. I had my boy saddle them for you, sir,” said Hawknose, waiting until Dwarf had finished the letter before speaking.

“You have done most excellent well by us, Master Hawknose. I would that we had more to pay you with than thanks.” Dwarf removed a small, finely wrought ring from his left hand. “Here, take this, old fellow, and may it keep you safe until the end of your days.”

The innkeeper stared in wonder at the fine ring, but before he could thank Dwarf, the three of them had gone quickly downstairs and out into the courtyard.

“Can you ride, Cranfallow?” asked Dwarf, hesitant at the thought of going about on the high perch of a horse.