Greyrawk (Book 2) (7 page)

"Petty bandits I think. Elberra?"

"Five of them on this side of the road but they are all dead. Sorry, seems I took my anger out on them."

"Quite all right," said Kerreth. "I have a live one here. They look to be from Mordyn although their skin isn't as yellow as I would expect."

"They rubbed dirt and blood on them. Dire Walkers, I expect," said Dvorak Annis. "A rite of passage for them; ambush travelers and execute them, bring back mementos of the attack."

"Mementos?" asked Moria.

"Fingers, hands, ears, whatever strikes their fancy."

"Charming."

"Dvorak, are you all right?" asked Kerreth.

"Hobart pulled out the arrow," said Dvorak. "And I used a spell to speed the healing. I will be sore for several days, but otherwise I am well."

"Elberra, did anyone back in Anethe mention ambushes in this area?"

"No. The roads were safe as far as I know. I will drag the bodies out to the middle of the road as a warning."

"That should send a message to the travelers and the ambushers," said Hobart. "None of the weapons were worth keeping. Rusty knifes and the bows were of poor quality. I think Elberra broke the best one."

"I am sorry," said Elberra. "I will evaluate the weapons as I fight from now on."

"Could you?" asked Hobart.

"Argh!!"

"Hobart, be careful," said Moria. "We don't want you lying in the middle of the road too."

"Where was Loric during all this?" asked Kerreth.

"His tracks still head north," said Hobart. "A single rider wasn't what they were after."

"True, but surely the noise of the fight reached him?"

"I see someone riding back towards us," said Moria. "It's Loric."

Loric rode up and dismounted.

"Is everyone okay?" asked Loric as he looked at the dead bandits.

"For now," said Elberra. "Where have you been?"

"Scouting ahead. I thought I heard shouting and steel so I returned."

"Just in time for nothing," said Elberra, leaning over him. "Are you sure you aren't carrying any wine? Having yourself a little drink while we are fighting for our lives?"

"Fighting for our lives?" said Hobart.

"Elberra, I assure you," said Loric. He did not step back as she advanced and he nearly stood under her chin. "I was not having a drink. I was scouting."

"You didn't deny you have wine."

"I do have wine, but it is unopened. Kerreth gave it to me." He pulled from his saddlebag and showed Elberra it was still sealed. She scowled and turned away.

"I did give it to him," said Kerreth. "Now let's drop it and finish up here."

"What will you do with the survivor?" asked Moria.

"We will stake him out next to his comrades."

"He'll die," said Hobart.

"How is that different than what he intended for us?" said Kerreth.

"But don't we hold ourselves to a higher standard?" asked Hobart.

Dvorak laughed and winced. "Do you sleepwalk, Hobart? Have we ever taken assassination jobs?"

"Yes, but…"

"Poor Hobart," said Moria. "You don't want to admit what we really are. We are just like those poor fools lying in the road. Sure, we have lived many centuries, but our aims are no higher."

"Sometimes they are!" protested Hobart.

"Yes, you are correct," said Kerreth. "Sometimes they are, Hobart. And hold on to those tightly if it helps you to keep your sanity. It works for me. Come, let's ride. We have many miles left to go."

The Men kingdoms in Amloth - Eslenda, Masina and Cresida were much younger than the three kingdoms in Anavar. Calendia is the oldest Men kingdom as the capital city, Nantitet, was founded by Weracht de Arayr. Weracht led a group of Zidar from the Isle of Cothos and settled among the Men. Over time the two races interbred and were one. The nobility of Nantitet tried to keep their blood Zidar pure but no one else cared. In Amloth the kingdoms were more rustic, less sophisticated but just as savage when threatened as their more refined cousins in Anavar. Some things cannot be bred out.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass.

The torch smoke hung heavy and irritated his eyes as Greyrawk scanned the great hall. Dozens of people sat at the tables on both sides of the room. Their clothing showed them to be of the Gornst nobility. The raised head table allowed for guests on only one side so the favorites of Belderag could gaze upon the rest of the room. Musicians stood on the far side away from Belderag and the voices of the guests tried to overwhelm the singer. Greyrawk recognized the postures of the leading nobles and those who lacked power. There was much laughter and servants hurried to refill tankards and goblets.

Greyrawk saw Festin sitting at a low table toward the rear of the room, pushing away from his trencher another guest's grasping hand. Festin knocked the man on the head and pushed him to the floor. Then Festin spread out to give himself more room. Greyrawk grinned and his smile caught the attention of the blacksmith. Festin's eyes widened when he saw Greyrawk but he quickly returned his attention to his meal. Greyrawk recognized no one else outside of his group. He had been included in Arenna's retainers, a half dozen sitting around her on one side of the room. Her father did not include her at his table and did not acknowledge her presence. The banners on the walls told the greatness of Belderag and his victories. One even showed Belderag killing Lord Greyrawk in battle. The Lord Greyrawk falling to Belderag's sword looked young and powerful, not as the aged man Greyrawk recalled. Still, Greyrawk would like to think of his grandfather in the prime of his life. It was the lie of the victorious Belderag that he needed to expunge. He turned his attention to the main table occupied by seven Men dressed more richly than any in the hall.

Dacu Belderag sat in a raised golden chair at the head table with his trusted vassals alongside him. Past middle age; his long white hair shone, and his eyes dark and piercing. Belderag still held the strength of youth and his presence dominated the setting. He leaned over as he ate and his huge shoulders seemed twice their normal size. He appeared a bull lording over his harem. Several times his glance settled on Greyrawk, but no recognition came to his eyes. Greyrawk sipped his wine, nibbled on the pork, enjoyed the bread, but otherwise sat silent and listened to the cacophony around him.

There were a dozen armed Men along the perimeter of the room; a testament to the trust of Belderag and the goodwill his guests felt for him. Each guard wore Belderag's raven device; Greyrawk saw no others. It was the same device the riders wore who chased him to Greyrawk Mountain. On the far side, he saw Lord and Lady Nunderburg entering late. He caught Lady Nunderburg's eye and nodded his head to her. She nodded back, and then looked away. Greyrawk realized suddenly, his contact with her should be discreet. Her husband was too deep in Belderag's pocket not to expose her to Belderag. From time to time, he glanced in her direction but he never caught her looking at him. He knew his limitations in political maneuvering. He was well over his head.

He did not make small talk with either man beside him and they did not offer conversation either. He sensed their tenseness, ready to protect Arenna he assumed. Few of Arenna's people knew his identity and Arenna did not announce his presence when they arrived for the feast. He felt a chill and looked up. Dacu Belderag was considering him more closely and leaned to someone speaking to him. Greyrawk wondered why the man wore a hood during a meal. His heart skipped when he caught a flash of copper eyes from that hood, but he couldn't be sure as the man rose and departed.

"That is Machel Moet, Belderag's most trusted advisor," said a voice close to him. It sounded like Brandalay but Greyrawk had not seen him in Arenna's company when they reached the great hall. He glanced behind him and saw a man of Brandalay's size but the coloring was too pale. He wasn't surprised at this point if it was Brandalay. All of Arenna's men seem to have muted their appearances. Obviously Belderag does not know their real identities.

"Copper eyes and pale skin, almost Celaeri-like, but of course that would be ridiculous to believe a Celaeri could walk boldly in Belderag's hall."

Greyrawk did not make a point of looking, but his casual glances around the room made him aware that Belderag had taken an interest in him. He kept his attention on his meal of chicken stew.

Greyrawk had eaten his fill; and then leaned back to drain his tankard. He realized the room had gone quiet. He looked around and saw others looking in his direction.

"Arenna!" Belderag nearly shouted. He was standing, his finger pointing at Greyrawk. "Who is that?"

"Who does he appear to be?" asked Arenna. "He's my guest."

"Sir, are you addressing me?" asked Greyrawk lightly.

"No, sir. I am addressing my daughter, but since you have spoken, please tell me your name."

"Do you not know it?"

"Do not play me for a fool! This is my hall and I will have your head! My guests are here by my invitation and I do not know you. I did not invite you."

"I am a guest of Lady Arenna, Lord Belderag. Do you execute your guests? I had no idea or I would have refused to attend. Imagine the scandal! The king would like to hear of such things. I will tell him when I return to the south."

Belderag's mouth hung open at Greyrawk's audacity.

"Father, our guest would like to see his grandfather's sword."

"What?" Belderag's face turned red. Arenna's men had their hands on their swords. Belderag's supporters tensed. No one spoke for several heartbeats.

"My name is Ian Greyrawk. I have returned to reclaim what is mine."

The hall was quiet except for the sound of short shallow breathing. Then Belderag exhaled mightily.

"Do you indeed," said Belderag, smiling now. "Well, that is easily said. And I can see Arenna and her dubious supporters are prepared to defend you. A most interesting development indeed. We shall not have blood shed today, Greyrawk. This is a feast for the harvest, and to celebrate our landowners. It is an ill omen to spill blood in anger during the feast. The darkness is too close and we must not call to it. I wish you had come to me, Greyrawk, to be welcomed properly. Your family was very important in this land. Feel free to come and go as you will, but stay alert Greyrawk, death follows your family. It may find you."

"I will be wary."

"Good! Please stay and enjoy the feast. I have to admit you gave me a start. You resemble your grandfather."

"Except that I'm not old and feeble."

"Lord Belderag! Let me deal with this fool," shouted a man at the end of Belderag's table.

Belderag shook his head and sighed.

"No, Dyson. That will not be necessary at this time. Besides, I don't think the outcome would in your favor. This man is a Greyrawk and no doubt is skilled with his blade.

"Ian Greyrawk, hear me clearly. Do not believe everything my detractors tell you. Aryar Greyrawk was a bull of a man, size and temperament, even at his death. The battle was neither glorious nor unequal. It was blood and sweat and I prevailed, nothing more. A most inelegant encounter, not a tale the bards would sing. Nay, they would rewrite it to a great splendor and they have."

"Like your tapestry?"

"Let us not trade barbs in this place. Perhaps later there will be an opportunity for such things." He turned to the noble next to him and began a conversation.

Greyrawk bowed and returned to his seat. Arenna winked at him.

"We'll stay another quarter hour. Good work, Ian. He's hooked."

Greyrawk managed a weak grin and reached for his goblet. A young boy ran to him and refilled the shaking goblet with red wine. Greyrawk thanked the boy who grinned and skipped away. The boy noticed Arenna watching him but did not acknowledge her. The excited voices took a while to quiet and Belderag made no more public statements. From time to time Belderag glanced at Greyrawk, but showed no emotion. Greyrawk felt warm and needed to walk, but he tried to remain seated.

Finally, Arenna rose to her feet and as one her retainers rose too. Brandalay grabbed the back of Greyrawk's cape and pulled him along. Belderag watched the exodus and spoke to the hooded man.

Greyrawk noticed Brandalay wore a false hair color and his cheeks were paler than normal.

"Are you disguised?" Greyrawk whispered.

"Yes. You are not the only one Belderag would like to get his hooks into."

"Ah, good. I was afraid you were to leave me for a romantic tryst."

Brandalay looked sharply at Greyrawk.

"Sometimes I wonder how much you really know about this land. It is because of a tryst last year that I am now in disguise. No, do not ask. I will not tell you more."

"I am glad you are more than a hired sword, my friend. I am already weary of this place and wish to go home."

"Anavar?"

"No, to Greyrawk Mountain. I want to go back and breathe the air there once more. I feel I belong there."

"Good. I feel you do too. But have a care with your words. Those of us who follow Arenna have some misfortune in our past. Your quick ascent to 'Lord' Greyrawk may not endear you to those who have lost their titles or lands. You will find some who say they support you have to work through jealousy towards you. Resentment may hinder your efforts, even among Arenna's men."

"Resentment from you too?" asked Greyrawk.

"Honestly? Yes, there is some. But I still see the greater benefit to me if your presence hastens Belderag's demise. For the moment at least."

"I am reassured."

The journey back to Arenna's compound was uneventful. Greyrawk watched the others disappear into various buildings. He stood in the courtyard with Brandalay and Arenna. Guards were positioned around the compound. Arenna was no fool.

"Tomorrow you must go back to Greyrawk Mountain," said Arenna. "My father will try to capture you himself."

"Are you sure of this? Why wouldn't he just send soldiers to capture me?"

"For him, this is Aryar Greyrawk again. His ego is that great and it would prove to his followers that he is still to be feared. He will lead a squad of soldiers and follow you all the way to the mountain. He will want to defeat your threat there. The symbolism is too great to pass up. He will provoke you in the hope you will engage him with your sword so he can kill you in self-defense."