Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (35 page)

Gruedo told the story dedicated to Loathar, Sentinel of the Sullen. She told of a pouting child who always told everyone how terrible he had it. How his parents fed him poorly, gave him second hand clothes, he had pimples because of his poor living conditions, and none of the other children would speak with him. Then one day a girl came to him. She showed him sympathy, made him new clothes, baked him fresh breads, washed him, and loved him. They married and one day a child was born. The pouting boy was now a dour man. He still complained, but now of how his wife didn’t clean the house well, he never had a hot meal, and his child received all of the man’s attention from his wife. One night a man broke into the house to rob it. The man began to weep and complain as he always did. He begged the intruder to help him, told him of what a horrible wife he had, and what an unbearable life he had. He swore if the intruder killed his wife and child the town would finally see what a bad lot the man had been given. The thief explained he was just hungry and wanted food, not to hurt anyone. The wife, who had also woken, gave the man bread, wine, cheese and asked him not to harm her or the baby. The man did as she bade and left. The husband complained the next day to the town reeve. The lawman explained he had caught a man by the same description that morning sleeping in a barn. The husband went to see if it was the same man, and swore it was. It was then that the constable took the complaining man into custody and brought out the wife. The wife had already identified the intruder, but not until after the criminal had turned himself in and told the lawman how the man begged him to kill his wife and child. The pouting man was hung for conspiracy to murder his wife.

Rogen told a tale for Glootin, Keeper of the Evil of Excess of a man who hoarded everything. Food, money, power, and shared nothing with anyone. It ended with the man dying alone and his ghost damned to watching as the whole town rejoiced and divided his personal belongings without one tear shed in mourning for him.

Gruedo told another story, this time for Darken, Defender of Deceit. It was a popular wives’ tale of a boy who guarded sheep crying wolf when there was no actual wolf, just so he could have attention. One day when a wolf did come, no one answered because of this many false alarms, and the beast devoured him.

Dawn told the fairy-tale of a woman who was jealous of her daughter’s beauty. How the woman planned the girl’s death but was foiled and by a horde of bandits that took the girl in and protected her. Eventually a prince found the girl, returned with her and proclaimed the mother’s execution for trying to kill a creature of such beauty. This tale was in honor of Evedam, the Escort of Envy.

Argent, Assailant of Anger’s yarn was told by Rogen. It had a lord who was stubborn and never listened to anyone. The man demanded everyone listen to him or be beheaded. A wandering crone cursed him, and in the morning he woke with the head of a bull in place of his handsome human head, and no one would listen when he begged to explain. His own wife, children, and servants chased him away to live alone forever. He showed how hatred and rage never wins over a cooler head that thinks things through.

Cite told the final tale in honor of Peter, Provider of Pride. The bard skills had improved. Accompanying himself on the lute, he wove a captivating account of a man who felt he was untouchable in his power. He did horrible things. Murder, rape, won political office, and more. When he was at the pinnacle of his power and felt he could not be overcome, five friends turned the tables and raised a rebellion that not only overturned him, but also had him hung in retribution.

Dawn cheered and Cyril smiled when Cite closed the story by saying the man’s name was Duke Malvornick. Gruedo blurted out, “Is that another prophetic dream?”

“No, I am afraid it is not. It is just a simple fact that we will have to make come true,” was Cite’s reply.

“It has been three days since we faced the Dasism. We all know it is only a matter of time before we face another attack,” Rogen said, his voice heavy with worry. “How will we fare if Cite cannot use his full abilities?”

“I think that was my higher consciousness that was in control there,” Cite said as they sat around the campfire. “It shows I have the abilities and just need the confidence and knowledge to use them with that caliber of skill. The biggest problem is that I can’t practice until we face an enemy again.”

They had also discussed strategies involving everybody’s skill, and the best way to blend their talents. Dawn had assured them that no rain on the way for the next day or two, and the night should remain mild. Each evening they set watch and Gruedo set out trip lines that would give them some small forewarning of an attack, if luck held out. The river was loud and would cover most noise of an approach, making things more difficult, not that the Dasism made any noise as they moved through the forest. Cyril and Rogen spent most of the late afternoon constructing a raft to cross the river tomorrow. The horses would swim, led on long reins.

From the camp, they could see the mountain of Jonath carved into a castle in the west. It stood like a monolith marking how much further they needed to travel. Even from this distance they could see the grandeur of the structure that took up most of one face of the peak. It gave them hope, but also filled them with dread.

Cite woke to a whistling noise. It was a noise he thought he should know. He felt something far away. He crawled out of his tent and looked around, confused, and tried to figure out what it meant. No one else heard it and Cyril, Rogen, and Dawn still slept. Gruedo was nowhere to be seen, but Cite could feel her in the tree line and approaching fast. From the far side of the camp, a horse screamed and deafening crashing sounds roused the others. Gruedo came running into the camp, her eyes wide.

“Why did it have to happen on the third watch?” she muttered to herself before whispering to the others, “The trees, they are alive.” Rogen and Cyril swung out of their tents. Dawn climbed out slower, unused to places you had to crawl out of the end. They all looked towards the horse line as another branch crashed down. Another horse screamed as they pulled at the lines that held them. Rogen darted forward, and sliced at the reins to free the animals.

A bough fell right where he had been a moment before, and then raised itself back into place overhead. Three of the horses bolted into the woods. One of the others lay twitching on the ground. The last horse had its reins tangled in the branch that had tried to crush it. It was pulled up until it was standing on its hind legs. The leather straps broke under its weight, and it too ran off into the night.

The trees around the camp began to shudder. The five friends looked around, trying to figure out how to combat a whole forest of violent and mobile trees.

“This is so not fair,” Gruedo grumbled. “Trees are absolutely not supposed to attack people. I swear it’s a rule.”

“Dawn, get the raft ready,” Rogen yelled, taking charge. “Cite, you assist, but keep your brain looking for other dangers. Gruedo and Cyril, pack up what you can, leave anything you cannot get quickly. I will guard the two of you. Trees hate axes. That is a rule also,” he remarked with a tight grin.

“Did he just make a joke?” Gruedo asked.

“Just get the stuff,” Cyril answered as he bent to do just that. Dawn moved to the bank of the river and began to move the raft towards the water with Cite’s help. She stopped as it began to slide into the water and Cite looked at her, worried.

“What the hell am I thinking?” she asked. Cite shrugged and felt her mind go active in a way that usually meant she was using the ley lines.

She raised her arms and gathered unseen things the way someone would snatch at feathers flying through the air. Then she focused her eyes on the camp, or beyond perhaps. The trees in the front lines burst into flames. Rogen dodged backwards away from the fire.

“What the hells are you thinking?” he yelled as he looked back towards Dawn.

The burning trees let out a high-pitched scream, the same sound a wet log makes when put onto a roaring fire. The limbs flailed faster, and a tree fell towards the camp. Its flaming branches and leaves sprinkled across the camp, and scattered their belongings and spread the fire.

Gruedo grabbed the bags she had dropped and ran towards the raft. Cyril stood up and called upon his god. “Dawn, see if you can use your magic to assist me,” he yelled.

She watched, unsure of what she should be doing. She noticed the earth in front of the trees mounding upward, creating a small wall. Understanding, she released her fire energy and dug into the earth for the lines that may be there. The earth was strong throughout the whole area, perhaps a remnant of the god of earth doing work here. She grasped the force line and added her ability to that of Cyril.

A wall of solid earth shot twelve feet into the air; the tree that had fallen across the campsite sprang back to its upright position and tipped into its companions. Rogen ran into the camp and grabbed other bags as Gruedo made a second sweep and collected more.

“Good enough,” Rogen shouted, “everyone get on the raft.” He ran and dumped the bags onto the wooden platform. Cyril turned and ran for the raft, joining Rogen in pushing it the rest of the way into the water. Cite reached out with his mind and took the metal fire cover and a few other small things lying around.  The tents were still burning and the saddles were beginning to catch.

Cite stepped onto the raft and sat down as Gruedo was piling all the supplies in the center so they would not be lost if the raft rocked. Rogen and Cyril leapt on, Rogen grabbed the long tiller pole and pushed off. Cyril held out a hand as Dawn splashed through the shallows to get to them. Once they were all on the raft, Cyril and Dawn each took up a pole to help push as well as keep them away from the banks of the river.

“Plan B?” asked Gruedo.

“I don’t think we need to go back into the trees at this point,” Cyril said.

Cite swept out with his mind, trying to find anything that would help. He felt something familiar. He knew it from New Roval, and perhaps somewhere else. He also felt the oppressive sensation that was the consciousness of the forest.  It was alien to him. He had no idea how to read or understand that. Perhaps someone who had a stronger connection with plants or animals could understand it better, or given time, he could. He was concerned they would all be dead before he could work that out, though.

“It’s all around us. The forest is alive. It’s upset. That is the best way I can describe it. I can try to do more, but I am not sure if its psyche would not do the same to my mind that a thorny thicket would do to my body.”

“Leave it then, Cite,” Rogen instructed. They pushed onward for a while in silence, watched the shoreline and listened to the giant trees creak and shudder as they passed.

“I know what kind of trees those are that Dawn set on fire,” said Gruedo with a giggle. “Ash.” Cite snorted at the pun. Dawn reacted in a different way.

“I’m sorry. I almost killed us all,” she said. Cite and Gruedo looked at her, surprised. Cyril said nothing as he pushed along the river. Rogen kept poling, but spoke.

“No, you did what you could. It is reasonable to assume that the trees would turn away from fire, not try to bash us with flaming branches. You did not do exactly as I said, but that does not mean you did wrong.” Dawn nodded at the older man’s words.

“We are learning to work together,” he continued. “As a captain of a ship, you know to take responsibility for your actions, but don’t let your mistakes bring you down. We will all think about what else you may be able to do next time. It took all of us to make sure it was possible, but there will be a next time.”

They poled down the river for the rest of the night. Rogen, Dawn and Gruedo took the first shift at the poles while Cite and Cyril slept. A few hours before sunrise Rogen had them wake Cite so the two women could get some rest. By sunrise, they woke Cyril to allow Rogen some sleep.

They floated down river with the current, poling to get a little extra speed or to avoid snags and sandbars. They hit small set of rapids just before noon. They were able to navigate them without much trouble. The people not guiding the craft organized the gear in the center, prepared meals for the others, or slept. Dawn showed them how to fish using a short length of string, a bit of bone tied to the end, and a bit of food as bait. She caught one rather quickly and they were all impressed and a bit excited about the prospect of fish for a change, until Rogen asked how they planned to cook it. Gruedo received a smack from Dawn when she pointed out that the older woman had a knack for fire.

It was about an hour before sunset when the river widened and opened up in front of them. Cite was nervous at the thought of being on a raft on the sea after his last ocean-going encounter. They needed to go west, but a couple of miles along the eastern shore they saw a walled city that had a beacon fire burning. They debated for a few minutes and decided it would be best to check to see if it was friendly. They brought the raft to the east bank and gathered their equipment. They began the short trek to the only town they had seen since entering the woods.

Chapter 20: Guilty Conscience

“You can’t be made to feel guilty without your own consent. Unless in a court of law.”

Punchline of a joke about a Barrister and his mother

5854 – Ault - Quebal – Bestuf

Cyril shouted up at the guard on the wall again. The man was either deaf or asleep. The wall was over thirty feet tall, sloped outward, and made of tree trunks stripped of all bark. The area around Baythyzium City had been cleared of trees, shrubs, and brush for over one hundred meters. A barren, burned out field was all that remained of the forest that, at one time, had come to the edge of the city.

The wall circled the city and extended into the water. Docks could be seen on the waters of the bay. While they circled the land bound portion of the city, they saw that the docks could be closed off from the main city. Most of this construction was new or under repair. No entrances could be found on the landside of the wall. In three different places, they saw winch and pulley systems on top of the wall that allowed the inhabitants of the city to bring in supplies. Gruedo also spotted a few places that may be covered tunnels.

They heard noise from the other side of the wall, proving that the city was occupied. Sounds of animals and people calling to each other could be heard. Smoke rose from the walled city and smells of fires, food, and waste were in the air. Civilization had a signature stink that could not be mistaken.

“We don’t need them,” Gruedo said. “Let’s just go to the raft, cross the river and keep to the shore on the other side.” Frustration was obvious in her voice. Dawn and Cite didn’t argue with her.

“Information,” was all Rogen said.

“We could also offer them information that may help them survive what is coming,” Cyril added, “as well as perhaps gain allies once we open Silver Castle and City.”

“I have done trade here in the past,” Dawn said with a sigh, “and wouldn’t want to see my friends here hurt because of the city guards’ stupidity.”

“Well,” Gruedo huffed, as she rummaged in her satchel, “they would hear us if I put a few explosives at the base of their stupid wall. If it’s there to protect them and they have guards, you think they’d actually do their damn job and watch this side of the wall.”

“They do.” Cyril pointed upward to where a guard sat. “They have doubled the guard since we appeared.”

“Why wouldn’t they let us in, or at least tell us to go away?” Gruedo asked, closing her sack, something small hidden in her clenched fist.

“I am willing to bet that they are used to the fae trying to deceive them. We are a small group of people, and it could be some sort of illusion to trick them to come out.”

“It would be some ability to be able to create five phantasms with individual movement and capable of independent speech,” Cite said while he stared up the wall.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Cyril said. “But even if they believe we are real, why would they open the gates, or whatever they have? We are just more mouths to feed. We bring nothing they need. No food, no supplies. We only have what we carry. They probably think that they get all the news they need of the outside world when a ship decides to dock here.”

Dawn looked at Cyril. “As I mentioned, I used to dock here. I know a few people. I just need to get them to listen to me without putting an arrow in my belly.”

“Jonath can protect you from that for a short time, but I don’t know how to get you up there.”

Gruedo dropped her pack to the ground and began to rummage through it again. “A grappling hook and some rope will get you up there.”

“Wait,” Cite said. “I can lift her.” They all turned to look at the mind mage. “It would attract more attention than a grapple, and they wouldn’t see her until she topped the wall instead of knowing someone was climbing and cutting the rope before she gets up.”

“Do we want to attract attention to the fact that we have magic?” Rogen asked.

“I am tired of sneaking around,” Gruedo said. Everyone now turned to look at her, surprised that she of all people would be tired of stealth. “I say we knock a hole in their wall or tear part of it down.”

“The impetuousness of youth,” Rogen said as he looked at the girl with a fond smile, “I think that if we did any of those things, they would definitely think we were the enemy. But perhaps Cite is right in Dawn being safer if he used his abilities to lift her, rather than her climbing a rope.”

They took a few minutes and formed a plan. Cyril placed the blessing of Jonath upon Dawn to protect her from harm, and Cite took a few moments to prepare before attempting this new feat. He wrapped his mind around her. He had only used this trick a few times before. Once he was in a daze and had hurt people, another time he was under attack by a sea monster and just keeping himself balanced, and the last time he was sleep-walking. Trying not to squeeze her so tight that he hurt her, or so loose that she wobbled. Dawn rose into the air.

She floated to the top of the wall. She looked around and smiled. The men on the wall had not noticed her yet. She pulled a scroll tube from her belt and threw it at the closest guard. It hit him in the arm and bounced to the walkway beside him.  He jumped and spun towards her, eyes wide. Six other guards rushed towards her, spears at the ready. They saw a redheaded woman with a deep blue shirt, a red sash and black boots that came up to the thighs of her green breeches that floated in the air, and smiled at them with her arms crossed

“Pick up the message,” she said. “Take it to Captain Dorvick, and only to him. Do so quickly and tell him that Captain Dawn Redblood of the Lady Luck requests the pleasure of his company.”

The man stared at her and looked down at the wooden tube only when she pointed at it. He awoke from his stupor, bent and grabbed it. As he looked down at the four others on the ground, he didn’t notice the flying woman wobble a bit in the air. He looked back at her, then turned and ran. The other men stood with their spears poised to attack. Cite lowered her to the ground and set her down. His face was red with the effort as he smiled at her.

“Now we wait,” Rogen said and turned to face the tree line, to guard against any surprises.

They were walking along the city street, four armed guards escorting them, as Dawn spoke to the man she had requested. It had taken thirty minutes before a voice called down. The guard had brought Captain Dorvick. Soon they were atop the wall, brought up by an elevator of wood and ropes. One man began to confiscate their weapons, but was stopped by the Captain. He explained to the soldier that if they were trying to breach the walls, they wouldn’t be sending notes to people.

Captain Dorvick was a tall, clean-shaven, thin man with a military air and close-cropped blond hair. His clothes were crisp and ironed, and he walked with a purposeful stride. He led the guests to the center of the city.

As they walked, they noticed that there was not a single tree or bush to be seen. Grass grew, as did some small plants and crops, but nothing that had branches thicker than a man’s finger. The city was a circle within a circle. The outer wall was the first line of defense. The top was ten feet wide and dropped to an area about thirty feet across. Gardens were planted here, and some livestock grazed. Bridges about ten feet above the ground linked the outer wall and the inner wall. The captain explained it was forbidden to walk on the grass; the animals needed it for food.

Once inside the second wall, it was much like any other town except for the lack of trees. No animals appeared to be inside the inner wall either. When asked about this, their guide told them in a very precise manner that the Dasism had abilities that could affect animals and plants. The city had learned that the hard way.

They were brought to a government building. It was more of a keep in the center of the city. A tall square building that stood taller than any other building in the fortified post. Once inside they were shown to a large meeting room with no decoration. A table with a dozen chairs dominated it.

Captain Dorvick turned and looked over the five people in front of him. “Explain.” was all he said. It was a command, not a request.

Dawn stepped forward. They had discussed it, and she would do the talking since she knew the city, at least a little. “Captain, thank you for allowing us in. We have come from the north by way of the Ocean River, and we have encountered the Dasism.”

The captain stood with his arms held behind his back, and waited for her to go on. “Cyril is a priest of Jonath,” she indicated the bearded man. “He is on a mission to restore Silver City.” They had discussed this also. They felt telling the full plan of opening the castle would not seem believable or possible, so they decided to omit that piece of information. “He has information that should not only do this, but help restore our people to this land. We need to know if you could send some men with us to help. We will need people to hold it once we get it reopened.”

“Let me stop you there. I cannot send anyone anywhere. I won’t even ask for volunteers. Matter of fact, since I now know what you are here for, I will not even allow you to speak to anyone. You may rest here, but you will leave by the morning.”

“Pardon me, Captain Dorvick?” Dawn was stunned.  “What do you mean you will not allow me to speak to anyone? I have docked here a dozen times. I have brought you supplies and information. You traded with my father and uncle before me. For the Gods’ sake, why would you not allow me access to the city now?”

“You are not here to help the city; you are here to tax our resources. This conversation is finished. If you need supplies I will collect them for you, but I am afraid you will not be allowed to leave the rooms I shall provide you until you are leaving the city.” The captain softened for a moment. “I am sorry, Dawn, this is a war zone and I simply can’t let men go on some fool’s errand. I also don’t need them getting impossible ideas clouding their minds.”

“I understand.” Dawn didn’t sound convinced, but she accepted his logic. “I will prepare a list of supplies. May we go to our rooms now?”

“Some friends!” Gruedo stomped around the room and tossed her pack onto the floor by a couch. Rogen watched her as she recited a list to Cite of needed supplies.

“I never said they were friends.” Dawn looked up from the washbasin as she washed her face and hands, glad to have a chance to freshen up from the journey.

“It is reasonable.” Cyril looked out the single small window that overlooked the city and gave a view of the forest to the northeast. “They can’t have their morale ruined by what is most likely a dream, hoax, or suicide mission. The captain is a smart man. We are lucky he didn’t just drop boiling oil on us. He is a kind man to give us as much as he has.”

“Give us? Give us!” Gruedo threw herself onto the couch and crossed her arms. “They are charging us two to three times the normal cost of the most basic supplies. He isn’t giving us anything.”

“You should learn to appreciate what you have, Gruedo. It costs them more to get supplies out here and they can barely use the resources right outside their own back door.” The priest spoke without turning around, his voice even and calm. “We will have a warm meal, bath, a bed with blankets, and a full night sleep without having to take a watch. I thank Jonath that we have been judged worthy of that much.”

“Harrumph,” was Gruedo’s reply.

“I get the first bath,” Dawn said.

The rest of the evening was spent relaxing. There was not much to plan. They agreed that following the coast would be best. They debated on a rowboat and rowing most of the day and beaching at night to camp, but decided against it. They would rather face an angry tree than something that could swallow them whole. Cyril estimated it would take about three to four days to get to Silver Castle if they could avoid any major delays.

They had a plain meal of beans, potatoes, and beer. It was served in the suite of rooms that the Captain had given them. Two guards were posted outside the door to make sure they did not go out and explore. Rogen retired early that night, going into the room that the men would be sharing. The women had their own room, but Gruedo offered to sleep in the main room on the couch. It was just after dark when Gruedo went to the window and leaned out into the cold night air, holding her ever-present satchel with one hand.

“I think I will go out for a look around.” She looked up and reached out to find a place to secure a rope.

“Do you think that is wise?” Cyril asked.

“You sound more like Rogen every day. I think you have been hanging out with him too long.”

“Won’t people see you, I mean? It isn’t like they have many strangers here; you are bound to stick out.”

“I am a professional. I was born to blend. Besides, no one ever looks up.” Gruedo tied off her rope to the shutters outside and tested it. She sat on the windowsill and swung her legs out. “Need anything while I am out? Wine, women, or what?” With a grin, she was gone.

Cyril looked at Cite, who was writing in his journal, and said, “Sometimes I wish I could be as carefree as her.” He shook his head.