Keeper of the Eye (The Eye of the Sword Book 1) (21 page)

Max nodded, a big smile appearing on his face.

Jorgen saluted thumping his fist to his chest. “It’s been a very long time, sir.”

“Yes, Jorgen, it has been far too long. I must say I’m surprised to see you. How is it the Creator led you to us?”

“I’m here to offer my services to the Keeper of the Eye,” he replied, motioning to Michael whose mouth fell open.

“How did you...I mean...what makes you think I’m this keeper you speak of?” Micheal stammered.

Jorgen grinned. “I saw the Sword strapped to your back.”

“How?” Garen and Michael asked at the same time.

“He’s a paladin,” Falon replied as if the answer should be obvious.

“Yeah, so, but how could you see the Sword?” Michael said.

Jorgen laughed and slapped Michael on the shoulder. “I’m a
servantag
. I could see past the spell of illusion. Unlike most paladins, though, I grew up around the Eye. I knew it was the true Eye when you left the fight today.”

“What fight?” Max eyed them both.

“It was nothing,” Michael said.

“A minor incident,” Garen said.

“Not even an incident, really,” Michael added.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Apparently I have tales to hear from more than one person.”

“I’m a tad bit famished,” he said to Falon. “Can you fetch Durin and request he bring us some of that delicious stew I smelled? And bread too, my dear,” he added as she reached the door.

When she returned a minute later, they had seated themselves for what looked to be a long story.

“So tell me, Jorgen, how did you come to be in our presence?” Max asked as she took a seat next to Jorgen, looking at him adoringly.

“That story, I believe, starts with this lady here,” he replied, looking at Falon. She looked down at the floor embarrassed.

“Really?” Max said. “You’ve met Falon before?”

Jorgen nodded. “Master Larlan sent me to Paraneese to wait for a sign. I asked him what to look for and he said it would be obvious.”

“How is Master Larlan?” Max asked.

“He’s well, sir. I’m honored you remember him.”

“Hard to forget such a man. But you were telling us a story. I won’t interrupt again.”

“Yes, I had been in Paraneese for three days when Falon came through with four goons right behind her. I gave her a chance to get away while I discussed redemption with the poor souls chasing her.”

“I thought you were dead,” she said weakly.

“It will take much more than four poorly trained thugs to kill me,” Jorgen replied. “Besides, I know where I will die, and Paraneese is not it.”

Michael and Garen shared an uneasy look. Who knows where they are going to die?

“One of them wounded me though, cheap shot really, but nothing a skilled healer couldn’t take care of. Another scar now. I spent a week recovering, waiting for the sign when it struck me the sign had already come and gone. I followed after Falon but lost her trail.”

Jorgen looked at her. “You’re a tad too good at covering your tracks.” Her cheeks colored at his praise. “I passed your description to the magistrate in key cities including Staffshire and Rhalmadia. Figured you would return the same way you came. If you entered any major city in Gheradia or Capstan, I would know about it within a few days. All that was left to do was wait, so I reported to the paladin fortress in Teslar and waited.”

The way he said the word “waited” made it plain he had spent little time idle.

“I happen to be running an errand to Rhalmadia for Master Belvinade. Been here a few days when these two managed to cross my path.”

Max glanced at them with a knowing look far too practiced for Michael’s taste. How many young wizards had found themselves at the receiving end of that look?

“They witnessed an incident where a young boy picked my pocket. Once the boy had been dealt with, I noticed Michael. Don’t see many blonde haired people in Rhalmadia. More importantly I noticed the Lion’s Head pommel over his shoulder. He and Garen ducked away into the crowd before I could speak with them. I caught up to them as they were about to take on eight unhappy men.”

Max glared at them.

“We weren’t doing anything,” Garen said defensively. Max raised his eyebrow in response.

“Really, Max,” Michael said, “we played this peddler’s cup game, and he got mad because I guessed where the ball was even when he cheated and dropped it in his lap.”

“Well, of course, you could tell where the ball was,” Max growled. “You can control Earth, and you were wearing the Sword.” Max’s tone sharpened at Michael’s blank stare. “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve told you? Concentrating on the ball connected you with the earthly elements that it was made of. You could sense it apart from everything else. Without the Sword, I suspect you could have been able to tell which cup the ball lay under, but with it you were so aware of the ball it was probably like the cups were not even there.”

Max grunted when Michael nodded. “I told you not to draw attention,” he said, pointing a finger at them.

Michael hung his head; Garen shrugged his shoulders in apology.

“In their defense,” Jorgen said, “the peddler did try to cheat them, and it was clear he and his henchmen had a racket going. I would say they had it coming.”

“Now that we know how Jorgen got here, I have a question,” Garen stated. “Who are you?”

“And how do you know Max so well. And the Sword,” Michael added, happy to steer the conversation away from his adventure.

Jorgen smiled warmly, a stark difference from what they had seen before. “Forgive me. I haven’t introduced myself properly. I am Jorgen Von Luz of the Paladin Order. I have known Max my whole life, but it feels like a lifetime since I saw him last. Growing up in Dalarhan, you can’t help being very familiar with the Eye and Sword of Kings. When I turned fourteen, my dad took me to the Wizard’s Keep for testing, and they discovered I was a nullifier. A rather powerful one at that. It was decided I would go to Stallingar and become a paladin. Best decision ever made for me,” he said, looking at Max.

“Not that you felt so at the time,” Max replied.

“Aye,” Jorgen said.

The name ‘Von Luz’ struck a chord in Michael’s mind. “Your father,” he said in thought, searching his memory for the name. Then his eyes shot up, “he was commander of the Lion’s Fist. He was there, in the Heart, when...” Michael wished he knew when to shut his mouth.

The light in Jorgen’s eyes faded, the corners of his mouth dropped. “Yes, he was.” Jorgen placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Michael. We will honor them with our success.”

“Now, for the true reason our paths have crossed.” Jorgen bowed on one knee. “Michael Ashguard, son of Tobias, Lion of Shaladon, Keeper of the Eye, as a paladin, I pledge myself to protect you and guide you. May the Creator favor you and make your steps sure.”

Michael stood there stunned, no idea how to respond. It all seemed ridiculous. No one should be bowing to him. He didn’t feel like a king; he didn’t feel important. The whole scene aggravated him. Royalty and greatness, people bowing and scraping, he had no interest in such nonsense. He looked at Max for some idea of what to do, but the wizard merely stood there looking like he had heard the greatest news.

“Oh, um, well,”—so much for being eloquent, Michael thought—“thank you Jorgen…oh, of the Paladin Order. I, um, I’m honored to have you join us. Thank you.” He expected Jorgen to rise, but he remained on one knee, head down. “Um, thank you for saving us from those thugs today. With you in our company, we’re sure to prevail.”

Michael gritted his teeth. That sounded utterly stupid. He looked from Garen to Max pleadingly in hopes they would tell him what to say to get this huge man to stand up. Jorgen could snap him in half, yet he was bowing and pledging his services. He noticed Falon moving her hand at her side in an upward movement and mouthing the word, “rise”.

“Oh! Um, yeah. Now, rise, Jorgen of the Paladin Order and join our company.” Michael felt like a pompous idiot.

With these words, Jorgen stood up quick as a cat and saluted, slapping fist to chest. “The honor is mine, Sire.”

Michael swore he would never get used to people behaving like he was something greater than them. Pure lunacy.

A knock at the door saved Michael from any more awkwardness. A serving maid entered with a tray of steaming bowls of stew and a basket of bread. Michael had not finished his meal in the common room and Garen never passed on food, so they were happy to have another bowl with Max and Jorgen. Falon only nibbled on a slice of bread.

“That boy who stole your medallion,” Michael began, not sure how to phrase his question, “would you have really taken his hand?”

“Of course,” Jorgen replied before taking a bite of bread.

“By what right?” Michael demanded. “I know paladins are given a wide berth but he was only a kid. From my understanding mercy is more important to the Creator than justice.”

“Who deserves mercy more, the criminal or those he preys upon?” Jorgen casually dipped a chunk of bread in his stew.

“That makes no sense! Is mercy not one of the tenants of the Creator?”

“As is justice. Justice is the tool that provides mercy. The criminal makes the choice to prey upon others. Choices have consequences. Good and bad. To give justice to the criminal is to give mercy to those he preys upon. Through justice, the criminal might also receive mercy if he learns from the consequences of his actions. That will not happen if we shirk our duty to justice because it isn’t easy. If we fail to uphold justice, then we fail to uphold mercy. Lawlessness will set in and where lawlessness reigns the Soulless One is certain to be.”

“He was just a boy.”

“Which is why I was lenient. He has potential, but his father lacks the ability to guide him. Now both have a chance to become more than they are.”

“You’re a hard man.”

“Perhaps, but had I not intervened he would most likely have lost his hand in the near future.”

Michael gave him a questioning look.

“The laws here are specific; stealing is punishable by the loss of a hand for the first offense. The guardsmen wouldn’t have found the boy a surrogate mother. Besides, Mistress Ileana was in need of a hired hand, but she didn’t have money for one. Now she has two, and the boy and his father have a roof over their heads and the chance to start over.”

Michael focused on his stew, mulling over Jorgen’s words. Regardless of the outcome he couldn’t fathom taking a young boy’s hand for any offense.

“So,” Jorgen said, setting his empty bowl aside, “what’s the plan? Where do we go from here?”

“We’re headed for Betrayer’s Pass,” Max replied.

“Can’t,” Jorgen replied.

“Why not?” Max asked.

“It’s too heavily guarded. Magichae, full company of soldiers, couple of striplings lurking around; never seen the pass so heavily guarded. You’ll never get through undetected. Same’s true of Tarlish Pass and Fool’s Pass. Even Wolf’s Maw is guarded. Unnecessary to guard that God forsaken area. No one would dare try to cross the Shalan Mountains where all those rabid wolves dwell.”

“That changes many things,” Max grumbled. He poked at his stew, pondering the news.

Getting across the mountains undetected was paramount. They never discussed the possibility of the pass being guarded. It never crossed their minds that all entrances into the Rang Shalan would be controlled by Aleister. The bigger question was “why?” Why were the passes so heavily guarded? If Aleister knew they were coming wouldn’t he have sent much more than a pack of nightstalkers?

“Michael, I need your father’s book of maps.”

“It’s upstairs,” Michael replied with his mouth full of stew, gaining him a stern look from Falon. “I’ll go fetch it,” he slowly added under her scathing glare.

When Michael returned, Max set aside his bowl and let it grow cold as he perused the detailed maps. The others finished their meal and a serving maid was clearing the table when he surfaced from its pages.

“Here,” Max said triumphantly.

The others crowded around to see the page.

“Where is this?” Jorgen asked.

Max turned to a larger map, covering two pages, picturing the entire Shalan mountain range and pointed to its southern end. “Here.”

“Are you insane?” Falon exclaimed. “That’s in the Great Forest! No one goes in there.”

Her statement was true. Few entered the forest and lived to tell the tale. Bloodthirsty savages, evil spirits, and wild beasts awaited the extremely brave or insanely foolish who entered. The forest was massive, running from the Shalan Mountains on the east and making up most of the Ma Shal Dar southern border except for Timmaron’s southwest border where Whitewater’s Forge and her two sister garrisons stood guard. None of the border countries worried about placing garrisons along the Great Forest; there simply wasn’t a need. Beyond the Great Forest lay Maridon and the only way they could invade the Ma Shal Dar was through Timmaron. A tight funnel already plugged by three massive garrisons. Maridon had stopped trying to invade a century ago.

“Better to lose the element of surprise than die at the hands of whatever lurks in that cursed forest,” Jorgen added.

Max turned back to his original page and pointed to a narrow line meandering southwestward just above the forest border. “Apparently A’lan found a trail,” he said. “We head south through the Chelean mountains and trek across Alarus. We’ll take this trail A’lan discovered and hopefully enter the Rang Shalan unnoticed.”

Jorgen nodded his approval. “Anacira isn’t allied with Shaladon. It’s dangerously close to that cursed forest, but I agree it looks like our best option.”

Jorgen held up the book of maps. “So who is this map maker A’lan? His maps rival those in Stallingar’s vaults.”

Michael smiled widely, beaming with pride as he told Jorgen about A’lan; the traveler turned carpenter.

C
HAPTER
20

Trust Broken

The morning chill felt good on Alex’s skin. The air in the storeroom where he hid the seer was balmy and uncomfortable. He did not sleep well down there, neither did Master Quinn, but the seer was growing stronger. When Alex arrived last night with more food, he found Master Quinn stumbling across the room on wobbly legs like a newborn foal. That nasty smelling concoction of herbs the seer mixed was helping. Before long, they would be able to move. Alex was not certain where they would go but anywhere with fresh air would be an improvement. He would sneak them out of the city and after that he would head for home to rescue his mom. Somehow.