Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (9 page)

           
"That
is a great idea! We don't want to make it sound too high for the common people,
and the wealthy sorts will feel it is more suited to them, with a proper name
to distinguish it from common fare. I wonder what they would think if they knew
the secret was common venison. Gregor, whenever you decide the adventuring life
isn't for you, let me know. I could use a strong back and a sharp mind around
here. The best part is, you get to eat all the breads and treats you
want!" Master Regar patted his ample belly, causing a cloud of flour to
rise as if to emphasize his point. "Now, you two get out of here. I am
sure you have other places to show your new man, Tana, and I have more than a
little to do, myself."

           
Gregor
flushed red at this last remark, and stumbled over a reply to correct the
baker's assumption. "Sir, I am not....well, I mean, Tana and I are
not....she and I only just met and....I would not want you thinking....I mean,
Mistress Tana is a fine woman...um, that is to say, I mean...."

           
Tana
just put a finger to her lips, silencing Gregor, and gave him a wink.
"Don't worry about that busy-body. No need to steal his gossip away. He
won't be the only tradesman to make that mistake, and these old men thrive on
the tales they carry to market. You can correct his error another time, but
rest assured he will never believe you." Tana's warm smile was directed
toward where the baker had disappeared into the back of his shop, but Gregor
could not shake the feeling she was thinking about him. "We should go.
There are several more people for you to meet."

           
Tana
and Gregor spent the rest of the day making the rounds visiting various other traders
and artisans throughout the city. The huntress showed Gregor where to go, and
nearly as important, where not to go. Tana was well known and equally well
thought of among the people that Gregor met. The baker's misinterpretation of
their relationship was repeated by several of the vendors, who felt compelled
to mention it at all. It was an understandable mistake, since the men who
usually accompanied her into Nactium were bound and unceremoniously dragged
behind her. A few of the more robust gossips noted it was time that Tana had
found a suitable male companion, considering her maturity. Tana corrected their
mistake rather sharply, stating that she needed no protection from a man, and
was by no means ready to settle in and bear children. That raised a few
eyebrows, and brought chuckles from the bystanders, as she dressed down the
offending parties. Gregor was certain he understood where Tana stood in regards
to him, or any potential suitor, and was glad he had not taken to entertaining
such notions. At least, that is what he told himself.

           
Tana
had saved the best stop for last as they neared a simple stone building off the
main thoroughfare. The sign at the front bore a large anvil and hammer, not
unlike the other smiths in the city, and a single massive chimney billowed
great clouds of black smoke. Tana wrinkled her nose in disgust at the cloud,
but opened the door for Gregor, motioning him inside. "Now, where is that
man?" Tana looked around the neatly arranged rows of display cases, seeking
the shop owner. A great hammering sounded from the rear of the shop.
"Filcher, come here, you little weasel!"

           
Gregor
was taken aback at the words Tana had shouted until he noticed there was a
small, furry head that had poked up over the counter before them. Gregor's
experience with the rodent hunters was limited, but, as the long, furry
creature stretched across the counter, the warrior noted it was in fact a
weasel. What it was doing here in this place, and why Tana was calling for it
at all, was strange, to say the least. That Tana took the time to introduce
Gregor to the animal was even more curious. "Filcher, this is my friend,
Gregor. Gregor, this is Filcher. Filcher is in charge of guarding this humble
establishment and making certain he is the only rodent that gets any part of
the blacksmith's food. Go and get your Master, Filcher, and you can have a
treat."

           
Filcher
wasted no time scurrying down the counter and running through the opening that
separated the work area from the front of the building. A bellowing voice
replaced the steady hammer blows from the back. "What are you up to now,
Filcher? It cannot be time for the luncheon yet. I am never going to get this
forge hot enough with all these interruptions. Customers? Well, why didn't you
say so?" The smith's voice shook the weapons and armor on display in the
room where Tana and Gregor waited as he called out from the back room. "Be
right with you!"

           
Moments
later, the largest man Gregor had ever seen emerged through the archway between
the two rooms, with Filcher perched on his shoulder. "Tana! Why didn't you
tell me it was Tana, you little weasel? Probably because you can't talk!"
The man removed his thick leather gloves and patted Filcher on the head.
"Off with you, rodent!" Filcher took his cue, running up Tana's
outstretched arm to retrieve the treat she had promised, a bit of dried meat.
 
Moments later he disappeared behind the
counter. "Well, I say the rodent can't talk, but he sure can beg. Damn
good to see you, girl! Finally bringing a man around for the community's
approval, I see."

           
"Gregor
seeks the approval of only the God of Light, and perhaps the aid of a fine
smith. I was wondering if you might be able to recommend someone." Though
Tana's tone was serious, her smile betrayed her.

           
The
giant smith's brow furrowed at her chiding. "Now, now. No need to get
sensitive and question a man's worth at his own forge." He turned to smile
at Gregor, extending a rough, thick-skinned hand that dwarfed Gregor's own.
"Gregor, is it? A fine, strong name for a blade master devoted to the God
of Light. I see by your grip you favor the right hand." The smith's eyes
fell to the scabbards at Gregor's sides. "Good, good, but it makes me
wonder why you would carry blades clearly weighted for one stronger with their
left arm. Fine blades they are, too. Haven't seen their kind for a great many
years. I used to number among the smiths who tended such fine weapons, when the
Knights of the Golden Dragon still roamed these lands. May I see them?"

           
Gregor
was happy to pass Master Silverwing's weapons to the smith for examination.
"Gregor, Firebeard comes from a long line of oversized blacksmiths. His
family has a very interesting history and in their time have served great kings
throughout generations."

           
"Tana,
your words honor me." Firebeard had turned to lay the blades across his
counter for closer examination. "I am the fourth generation of smiths
bearing the name Firebeard. Way back in our family tree, there lived one of the
giants of the great Peaks of Flame. The first Firebeard was a wee one among his
own people, but still a giant. Our family passes on the tale of his union with
a simple human mistress of no small stature herself." Firebeard smiled as
he related how the small giant and the tall farm girl, standing well over the
tallest men in her village, came to meet. It was a story of love and heroism
that rivaled the greatest stories of the land.

The original Firebeard had had to
pass through many trials to win the Mistress Inania's love and the respect of
her father, a father who was, to put it mildly, troubled by taking a giant as a
son in law. No one could doubt Firebeard's love for the woman who would become
his bride, and who would begin a line of great smiths that lived on in the
master smith standing before Gregor now. The Lord he served so long ago
knighted the first Firebeard, and though he never raised a weapon after he came
into the Lord's service, his abilities at the forge were remembered in the
Lord's house for generations. His hands forged the original weapons of the
Knights of the Golden Dragon. These works of art, formed of steel and mystical
alloys, had been blessed by the priests of the God of Light, and had brought
down many evil creatures and men.

           
Master
Firebeard scratched his chin thoughtfully as he finished his story. "I am
glad to see Master Silverwing still possesses a pair of the originals, although
that broken blade you bear on your back saddens me, Gregor. How did it come to
be broken? I would not think it was even possible."

           
Gregor
once more related the story of how the blade had come to him. Firebeard was
rapt as Gregor spoke, even as he examined the blade. "The Master of this
weapon was well known to me, with my own hands having cared for this sword when
it was whole. Would you allow me to restore the hilt? It is a terrible thing to
know the weapon has been ill used, but some good should come of it yet. I
cannot restore the full power to the weapon, only perhaps fashion a suitable
hilt, but I am certain the temple priests guiding you now would have little
trouble bestowing the proper blessings."

Gregor answered without a moment's
hesitation. "I would be honored by your labors, Master Firebeard. Take
whatever time you need. I will be deep in my studies at the temple, having
little need for the weapon while I am there.
 
I would also ask that you tend to Master Silverwing's blades. The fire
of a proper forge has not touched them in some time, though the smith in Bella
Grey, my village, did the best he could, and they are sure to need some
repair."

           
"You
honor me, Master Gregor. I will happily return a proper edge to Lord
Silverwing's weapons, and fashion a proper hilt to the broken blade as well. I
will not keep them longer than is necessary, and I have a very secure place to
store them until you return." Firebeard turned and moved behind the
counter, stopping in front of a massive metal carving depicting a giant, which
must have been the original Firebeard, facing a massive dragon that dwarfed the
giant by comparison. The blade the giant warrior wielded was a reflective black
metal sword as tall as he was that stood out against the steel surface where it
was mounted. "Filcher! Make yourself useful!" The great wall hanging
lowered to reveal an open space carved into the wall itself, forming a long table
at Firebeard’s waist. "Come around here, you two. I want to show you
something."

           
Tana
and Gregor stepped around the counter to join Firebeard on the other side.
Filcher sat on his haunches inside the alcove, waiting for his reward.
Firebeard tossed him a piece of dried meat from the pouch at his hip, and drew a
great black sword resembling the one in the relief from its home in the
wall.
 
"The thing is much too large
to wield properly, even by one of my size. The workmanship is amazing for
something so dense. The metal is called Elenondo, or star stone, taking its
name from the heavens of its origin. It takes a terrible heat to work the stone
into any usable form, but there is nothing to match its strength that man can
extract from the earth. The secret of working the metal has been passed down
from generations since the first Firebeard fashioned this sword. You probably
recognize the hilt. It is a larger version of the ones possessed by the swords
of the Knights of the Golden Dragon. Firebeard's people held the great serpents
in very high regard, and he was saddened to have to kill even a rogue one. The
beasts generally keep to the volcanic mountains where they make their homes,
and seldom come into contact with the civilizations of men. It is a beautiful
weapon."

           
Gregor
was moved to ask about the alcove itself, admiring the feat of craftsmanship.
"That is my greatest construction of metalwork yet. The massive springs
and lever bars keep the wall hanging from dropping too fast as it opens, and
Filcher enters through a twisted tunnel to release the catch that opens it.
There are other ways to open it, but I can't tell all my secrets now, can I?
Your weapons will be safe within." Firebeard shooed the weasel out of the
alcove and closed it once again.

           
Gregor
and Tana left the smith to his work, and completed their tour of the rest of
the city; she left him shortly thereafter at the temple to begin his training
with the priests. Gregor felt an odd pain as she departed, a regret he had not
experienced in his life. He missed his village and his parents, but this
feeling struck him more deeply, though he could not say why. Tana would have
recognized it, but much more time would pass before she felt the loss as strongly.
It would be some while before they would see each other again. Duty called each
to follow their own path, one to train as a knight of the Golden Dragon, and
the other to protect the lands she loved.

6

To Catch
a Thief

Boremac was angry. Travelflor did not
number among the cities he favored, and for good reason. There were far too
many guards and far too few marks, and the rogue had spent a fair amount of his
visits here locked up in the local jail. Now the less than honorable elements
that made a permanent home here had brought word that Boremac was being sought.
He had followed the detailed instructions he had received to the letter, and
here he stood in this warehouse of death. The smell of rotten meat and
flea-ridden furs was nearly overwhelming, and the rogue found himself wondering
what had happened to the previous owner. He had neither the time nor the
inclination to dig among the rotting hides to see if the tradesman was still
there. Boremac was right where he was supposed to be, despite the minor delay
of casing the location. He was not about to take any chances with the finger of
the Black Hand that had contacted him. The pickpocket was just about fed up
with the whole mess, and was turning for the door, when a figure entered cloaked
in black. "You came alone?"

           
"Your
messenger insisted that I do so. I won't even insult you by asking the
same." Boremac practically spat the words out. "You have the coins
and gems? I won't be handing my information over for free, and I expect to be
paid before I leave here."

           
A
slight, gloved hand bearing a small coin purse emerged from the folds of the
cloak that hid the contact's face. "You will receive full payment once I
feel certain you have information of value. You can count it at your leisure
before we
part company
."

           
"Well,
I am not happy about being kept waiting so long. I am a servant to no one,
unlike you, and I have other things to do this night.
 
Drinking and sleep number high on my
priorities at such a late hour." Boremac grinned at his little joke, but
the tone of the person with him did not show any sign of being amused.
   

           
"I
would think securing one's place among the living would be a very high priority
for one of your reputation. You should be glad I chose to pay you for your
information at all. The others whom I represent have many ways to find out what
they need to know that are far less comfortable. You just had the luck to come
to my attention first, and I believe you are more useful to the Brotherhood
alive rather than dead." This statement brought a light chuckle from
beneath the man's hood that sounded like rough metal being scraped over the
edge of an iron file. The man in front of Boremac did not wait for a reply
before continuing. "What do you have to offer me?"

           
"I
know the man you hunt has a student, and I know where he is headed. Silverwing
will be leaving to pursue his pupil soon to retrieve his blades and complete
the young warrior's training. The young one is already quite a talent, but the
Black Hand should dispense with him readily enough. They would probably be paid
his weight in gold for the elimination of the mentor and student.
 
Yes, I know his name and where they can find
him.
 
Did you bring enough coins for that
information? I doubt seriously the dead assassins the Hand sent for the ranger
could have told you as much." It was Boremac's turn to chuckle, a cunning
smile settling on his mouth as he decided to push his luck a bit.
 
Boremac cocked an eyebrow at the individual
before him. "Is there any reason for me not to see the face of the man I
am dealing with? You have made quite an effort, and a successful one at that,
to stay hidden from me in setting up this meeting. It seems only fair, since I
am putting my life in your hands, and we will certainly be in touch again, that
I know who it is I am trusting."

           
The
figure before him seemed to consider the request. His answer came soon enough,
as black leather gloves emerged from the cloak and pulled back the hood.
Boremac smiled in appreciation of the man's little deception, noting the black
mask that revealed only his eyes as the hood fell to his shoulders. "You
are a careful bunch, aren't you? I can respect that. People in our line of work
just never know who they can trust. I took the liberty of writing the
information down for you in case some unforeseen event prevented my arrival. I
guess that is no longer a concern.
 
If
you don't mind, we can pass the coin and the paper at the same time with
opposite hands. One cannot be too careful."

           
The
masked figure nodded his agreement, and put out his hands, with one holding the
coin purse and the other outstretched as a sign of good faith. Boremac reached
out to take the coin purse, noting briefly that his new friend's eyes had
darted upward ever so slightly before meeting Boremac's own intent gaze. "Oh,
I wouldn't worry about your partner. He's dead. Nice dagger he had though. Seems
a shame to lose it." The dagger appeared as if by magic in the masked
figure's throat, neatly cutting off his ability to reply. The force of the
thrust dropped the figure onto his back, and Boremac pocketed the coin purse
before the dust had settled. "No, we can never tell who we can trust, and
it doesn't pay to ask the wrong people the wrong questions. I am sure you would
agree, if you were in any condition to talk. Oh well, best get your partner
down here so you can look like you killed him. Won't matter much, and I am
pretty sure you made certain no one will be checking this warehouse. Looks like
it is time for me to be getting down the road again. See you in the lowest levels
of hell when I finally make a mistake."

           
A
hand grabbed Boremac’s collar so quickly he didn’t have time to react. “Damn.
Silverwing I assume?” He did not even wait to be told, dropping his weapons to
the ground.

           
Silverwing
spun the rogue around to face him. The look on the ranger’s face sent a shiver
through Boremac. It appeared he had finally made that mistake. The knife under
his chin only reinforced the thought. “Good, so I don’t need to introduce
myself. Who the hells are you and why have you been following me? Answer
carefully.”

           
“Opportunity.”
Boremac almost smiled… almost. “The hunter, Silverwing, and his student are now
hunted by a very successful group of killers with only one known failure. That
would be me.” Now Boremac did smile. “I suggest I would be more use to you
alive than dead. I know how they operate having been pursued for… some time.”

           
“You
appear honest enough facing imminent death. You may serve some purpose after
all. Since you appear to seek any opportunity that presents itself, I will give
you one suited to your skills. It might even give you some hope.” The ranger's
words caught Boremac unprepared, and once more his throat closed as if a
hangman's noose were around it.

"You are not leaving without
purpose, and do not make the mistake of thinking you are safe outside the walls
of the city. The young man, Gregor by name, that I traveled with is the one
they are after. You are going to make sure they don’t harm him.” Boremac noted
it was not a question. “There is a weapon and armor merchant leaving for the
port city of Nactium. He has found favor with the Temple of Light and is a
patron of the temples where he travels. I will arrange for your safe passage
aboard his ship. There will be a package of acolyte robes for you to use as a
disguise in order to enter the Temple of Light where Master Gregor now trains. After
arrival find somewhere discreet to change into them and go directly to the
Temple. Get word to Gregor that I am well, and I will contact him soon. You are
to gather as much information as you can about the affairs in Nactium, and more
importantly, make sure no harm comes to Gregor. Be ready to board ship without
warning, and make sure your connection to my student is not discovered. If
these assassins find that you are assisting us, I have no doubt your life will
be forfeit. If you deviate from the path I have given you, I will hunt you
myself. Do you understand?" Master Silverwing's hard features left Boremac
no room for misunderstanding

           
Boremac
smiled in spite of himself. He hated not being in control when his hide was on
the line, but it appeared he had no choice. "So, I am to travel with a
mercenary merchant and impersonate a priest to protect a fledgling warrior from
a highly organized band of assassins. What could possibly go wrong? Let's not
forget that I am supposed to do this for an indefinite amount of time, while
trying to find out who hired them to kill all three of us, if I understand you
correctly. Anything else I should know while you are being so forthcoming?"

Master Silverwing returned the
thief’s grin, and spoke with a softer tone. "Well, I am glad you
understand your dire position."

The travel down the river was
uneventful, and Boremac was glad to see the town of Nactium grow larger on the
horizon. The river men had shown little interest in him except when he joined
them in the games of chance that served to pass their free time. Boremac had
acquired a small sum of coins from distant lands with only a minor exercise of
his considerable skill at slight-of-hand. None of the river men begrudged him
his winnings once he got word around that he would be supplying drink at the
first tavern they could find. Boremac never cared for travel on the water, and
the humid air wreaked havoc on his leathers.
 
A proper tanner would be a first priority before he would be able to
move fluidly again.

           
Boremac
found the captain to be very accommodating as they neared the town. The rogue
changed into clothes more suitable to the rest of the crew, proceeding to the
shadowy inn nearest the docks with his new companions. The fact that the men
were obliged to seek strong drink and soft women did not bother him at all. In
spite of Silverwing’s orders, he was about to enter the priesthood for a time,
and he did not know when he might find opportunity for either of his favored
vices again. Several days of shore leave ended with a rowdy brawl, indicating
it was time for Boremac to move on to his assignment. He doubted it would serve
him much to end up in the stocks. Boremac dodged a mug flung across the tavern,
and slipped out into the streets of his new home and his new faith.

7

Books and
Blades

           
Gregor
took to his training with a conviction that was noted by all his teachers
within the Temple of Light. His commitment was thought to be a great compliment
to Master Silverwing. No one marveled at his studious behavior more than Father
Havet, the tutor of languages both spoken and written, within the library.
Gregor learned his basic reading and writing very quickly, and progressed into
the ancient languages of the runic writings with unexpected grace. The more
difficult scriptures took some time, as was expected, but Gregor's thirst for
knowledge was unquenchable. It did not escape Father Havet's attention that
even before Gregor had mastered the basic structure of language, he was
captivated by the tapestries within the library and throughout the special
temples of worship.
 
These tapestries
spoke of the miracles of the God of Light and the holy warriors of old who had
destroyed demons by God's grace. Many of the statues and tapestries depicted
the Knights of the Golden Dragon. Their greatest heroes and most terrible
trials had earned sacred places in the blessed halls and sanctuaries throughout
the temple grounds.

           
Gregor
found a purpose he had not known before among the priests. Their knowledge and
teachings extended well beyond his expectations. He learned the healing arts,
and how to channel the divine powers of the God of Light to knit the wounds of
the people that seemed to constantly find their way to the temple's infirmary. He
became a favorite among the sick and wounded, due to his story of coming to
study at the temple and his simple nature, so much like the farmers he
aided
. The farmers from outlying villages had stories of
their own to tell, and Gregor listened intently as they spoke of the
ever-increasing goblin raids. Some spoke of the increased activity of wolves in
the forests surrounding their homesteads as well, and Gregor found himself
worrying about Tana with each new report. Even though the wolves were staying
well away from the small farming communities, woodsmen who dared the forest to
ply their trade found goblin corpses littering the woods as they trod carefully
through the trees. The killing wounds on the goblin bodies were clearly
inflicted by large wolves, although arrows were found in the corpses as well.
The farmers had taken to leaving offerings in the forest to thank their
unlikely aide, giving praise to the Goddess of Nature for her protection. With
each bit of news concerning the strange happenings Gregor was glad to hear that
Tana appeared to be well, but he wondered how long she would be safe.

***

Gregor was surprised to find his
lessons included training with blunt weapons. He found a
n even larger surprise
waiting for
him at his first class in the form of the portly priest who was directing other
acolytes. He was crowned with a ring of white hair, and wore his wrinkled
features proudly. He shouted encouragement to the various young men and women
who sparred with maces and staves, and he was even handed with criticism to
those not paying attention. "Strike as though your lives depended on it!
We may not seek the blood of those who strike at us today, but do not think the
ones you will someday face will be subdued with the kindness of gentle
swings." He harried one particular young man who was wielding a mace in a
contest against a young woman swinging a staff. "She will knock you
senseless if you do not parry her blows more energetically," the Father
chided.