The Vlakan King (Book 3) (15 page)

"That is why we are here Blackthorne," said Dimont. "The council has recognized this shortcoming and need to improve the Academy of Magic. You have always kept yourself apart from other mages and sorcerers, but it is your knowledge that would get the Academy to where it needs to be once more."

"You are asking me to teach? No."

"Not specifically to teach students, but to teach the teachers. As you said, Berlo is not a strong mage, but there are so few who can provide the training necessary."

"What about Artus?"

"The High Mage is called upon to advise the kings of Anavar and has little time to offer."

"How about Gerrand?"

"Gerrand passed on long ago," said Berlo.

"Another fallacy from your leaders," said Blackthorne. "I'm sure even Vicare knows where to find Gerrand."

Berlo turned to Dimont.

"Is this true, Master Vicare? All the students are told Gerrand is dead."

Dimont sighed and glared at Blackthorne. Then he looked at Berlo.

"He lives, but is very old. He instructed the Council to say he was dead so he could live out his long life in peace."

"Yes, he and Faeya Ryr are still together and within three days journey from here."

"Blackthorne, that is enough," said Dimont.

"Why Vicare? If your Academy needs his knowledge so much why not go to him?"

"Because we are here asking you."

"But I do not want anything to do with you or your council!"

"Do you like to see mages die in battle because they lack the skills to defend themselves?" asked Dimont.

"Why are mages in battle? It is no place for them."

"Weren't you in battles with your Talos Company friends?" asked Berlo. "Seems you are always fighting for some cause."

Blackthorne stared at Berlo as if editing his responses before uttering them. At last he seemed to compose himself.

"The Talos Company is a mercenary company," said Blackthorne. "We fought for money not ideals. All that mattered to me was payment. And if noble Kerreth Veralier decided there was an ideal involved it didn't matter to me because I was paid. Do not lay lofty pursuits at my door. I will have none of them. Now I think this conversation is over. Wotba! Show them out."

"Wait, Blackthorne," said Dimont. "We want your help and we need your help. Many of our prize students are leaving to work on their own because we do not provide battle training. They leave and they dig into the arts on their own with no guidance. Three died in the past season from their studies and one appears to have discovered the black arts and is setting himself up as a power."

"Where is he?"

"North of Curesia, near Arda. There is rumor of gods in the area. We don't know who but Arda is a dead place since the Daerlan left."

"It is an evil place," said Blackthorne. "The stench of the Menaloch permeates the entire region. Any magic attempted becomes tainted and prolonged exposure is ruinous."

"That is the type of instruction our students need! We have no one who can teach such topics with conviction, and no one has the experience in dealing with the dark arts. Hobran, Bartheous and even Brevin do not have a tenth of the experience of the High Mage."

"Whose fault is that? Not mine certainly. Let Artus teach what he wants."

"I already said he is committed to advising the leaders of Anavar."

"Then he must decide what is more important. I will not join your faculty nor mentor them in the arts. You must deal with your own wayward students."

"Blackthorne, I ask you as a favor to a friend."

"I have no friends. It is time for you to leave." Blackthorne suddenly crouched in conjuring posture. "You were followed. We have company."

The mages began to prepare their spells and Blackthorne stood up, laughing at them.

"You cannot detect his approach and you don't even know if he is a friend or foe. Luckily he is a friend, or you would perish."

"I thought you said you had no friends," snapped Dimont.

"He doesn't," said Kerreth Veralier. He appeared at the doorway behind them led by Wotba. "We tolerate him because of his humor." Kerreth Veralier stood six and a half feet tall and had broad shoulders. He was the greatest fighter in all of Landermass; his two curved swords sheathed on his belt. He was part Zidar and had lived many centuries. Berlo kept staring at the tusks protruding from his lower lip. Dimont elbowed him.

Blackthorne scowled at Kerreth. Kerreth smiled down on the sorcerer.

"I have more guests than I care to have. What do you want, Kerreth?"

"To summon you to a meeting in Toraba. Talos Company and interested parties have to discuss a threat to Anavar. I would guess your guests here would find it illuminating."

"Do I have a choice?" asked Blackthorne.

"After all these years you need to ask that? Wotba, get your master ready for travel. We leave immediately."

"Yes, Great Kerreth." The goblin hopped to his duty.

"You want us to go?" asked Dimont.

"You must come with us," said Kerreth. "There is much to discuss that the Council of Mages should know."

They rode in silence most of the way to Toraba. Blackthorne fumed silently and Berlo and Vicare Dimont were too much in awe of Kerreth to ask him anything. Kerreth was pleased to ride in silence. Blackthorne's home was in the foothills of the mountains in northern Calendia and their journey east would take them north of Paglo, the land of the Tuors into the forests of Toraba the ancestral home of the Wierlun a nearly extinct race of earth magic practitioners. The Talos Company found it to be a secluded place to rest and recover from their activities. The influence of the Wierlun kept it devoid of human explorers and few Men lived near the area because it was far from the roads that crossed Anavar.

The first night they ate in silence. Kerreth kept the watch through the night. Berlo still could not believe the mighty man was the warrior of legend despite his imposing size. The second night passed as the first.

The afternoon of the third day Berlo could stand it no longer. He rode up to Kerreth to engage him in questions. Dimont was not paying attention and did not have the opportunity to stop Berlo.

"Are you really the Kerreth Veralier of the legends?"

"Well, I certainly don't know all the legends," rumbled Kerreth. "But I am the leader of the Talos Company and have been for many years."

"Thousands of years?"

"Depends on how many thousands, but long before your Gerrand founded the Council of Mages. Long before the Daerlan left Arda. Even before the Daerlan exterminated almost all the Wierlun."

"The Daerlan did that? I didn't know."

"It's not a story they are proud of."

"Did you know King Emileare of Nantitet?" asked Berlo.

"Now you are talking ancient history. I knew of him but never met him."

"How about Mauran de Arayr?"

"Berlo enough!" said Dimont. "I am sorry he asks so many questions."

"I don't mind but I won't discuss the last one."

"Why?" asked Berlo.

"Because I choose not to. Do not ask again." He urged his horse ahead.

"Why must you pester these people?" asked Dimont.

"What is wrong? I was curious."

"Don't be too curious with beings many times your age and many, many times your strength. Garval wanted you along in hopes you would do something to ruin my mission. I don't think he would have imagined you would insult Kerreth Veralier, but he would be very happy nonetheless."

Berlo hung his head as they rode until evening. He sat some distance from the fire. Kerreth had stretched out for a brief nap before taking the watch. Dimont stared into the fire. Blackthorne walked to Berlo and sat next to him.

"Don't be hard on yourself. You have been thrown into the lion's den. I think Vicare is worried he cannot survive the situation on his own and he worries for your welfare."

"Are we in danger?"

"Not directly," said Blackthorne. "But you are traveling with people the like of which you are not familiar and we will join with others equally unique and powerful. Your life will be changed. I don't know exactly how, but no one sees the other side without some transformation."

"Why are you so kind to me now?"

"I don't think of it as being kind. There is information you need to have. We are of one company now, at least for the journey to Toraba. We are only as strong as the weakest one, which is you. So I wish to ease some of your fretting. Also, it would irritate Dimont to know that I was helpful to you. And that pleases me very much."

"Glad to be of help," muttered Berlo. Blackthorne smiled and settled back to sleep.

The next day was sunny with few clouds. In the direct sun it was very warm. Kerreth stopped to allow Berlo and Dimont to catch up.

"That valley over there is Paglo," said Kerreth, pointing with a dagger.

"I've not seen a Tuor up close," said Berlo.

"We get so few of them in Calendia," said Dimont. "Men are too big and noisy for them."

"And dangerous," said Kerreth. "Tuors will not come to humna settlements without an armed escort. There were too many instances of wanton violence upon them in the past to risk encounters with Men. The Paglo border is closed to Men. The Border Guard are deadly with their arrows and their wood craft keeps them hidden from prying eyes. If you must go, go boldly and have a written request for their leader. They will give you every courtesy and you will be admitted or not. At least you will be allowed to depart without a hail of arrows chasing you."

They crossed the rocky highlands north of Paglo peacefully. Trolls were not down from the upper reaches of their land but Kerreth remained wary for even he had difficulty defeating a troll in combat strength to strength. Fortunately, trolls were not highly intelligent and easily evaded. The highlands dropped down into huge plains covering the land as far as the sea to the northeast. Directly north they would eventually come to the Koberi Desert where the Turucks make their homes. To the northwest, following the curve of the mountains dark splotches appear in the distance; the great forest of Toraba. Toraba was home to the Wierlun, a race of people that worshipped the land and drew their power from the earth. Centuries ago the Wierlun were hunted to extinction by King Oalaria of the Daerlan. A few escaped and the Wierlun began to rise again after the Daerlan left Arda and sailed to Amloth to found the kingdom of Liannest.

"Are going to a town or a camp?" asked Berlo.

"There are a few dwellings in Toraba but no towns," said Kerreth. "There is an area with several dwellings in fairly close proximity but not organized as a town. There is no king in Toraba, no subjects, no soldiers; just the remnant of a people clinging to their existence."

When they left the road to head north travelers on a wagon coming from the East hailed them. Kerreth stopped and waited for them to catch up. Blackthorne muttered under his breath and kept walking. Dimont and Berlo kept up with the sorcerer and glanced back at the newcomers. The wagon was a trader's wagon, crammed full of goods and the trader himself, heavyset and broad faced, looked familiar.

Kerreth raised his hand in greeting and the wagon driver did the same without any concern at the size of the man before him. However, the young man sitting next to him grinned like an idiot.

"Ho Kerreth! Where are you bound?"

"Brevin! It's been a long time. I am taking Blackthorne and a couple mages to Toraba."

"Blackthorne!" exclaimed Davan. "That's who we came to find."

"It's who you came to find," said Brevin. "I don't want anything to do with him."

"Why do you want Blackthorne?" asked Kerreth.

"Oh, he doesn't want Blackthorne, he wanted to find the Talos Company and since he found you, that's even better."

"Why would you want to find me?" asked Kerreth. He looked close at the boy and something tugged at his memory but he didn't know why. "Do you know who I am?"

The boy shook his head but the grin never left his face.

"I am Kerreth Veralier. What could a mortal boy want with me?"

The boy stared at the tusks curling from Kerreth's lower jaw. Although they were actually quite small as tusks go, on a broad man well over six feet tall wearing two curved swords and leaning over the boy, the tusks were astounding.

"Now you've gone and paralyzed him, Kerreth," said Brevin. "How have you survived so long with no manners?"

"Sorry lad," said Kerreth. He stepped back. "How can I help you?"

"I'm Davan Greyrawk," his voice barely a whisper. "Ian Greyrawk's my father."

"Of course! You looked familiar but I couldn't figure it out. Ian Greyrawk. How are Ian and Jaele?"

"Mom's fine. I got a new brother, Aravan and my sister, Tera is fine too. It's my father that needs help."

"What's the trouble? Is he hurt?"

"We don't know. He's gone. He had been acting strange lately and disappeared a time or two overnight, but when he returned he couldn't remember what happened. This last time he might have killed someone but we can't find him. The only trace is a report of someone heading west. Mom is worried that it is something from the Celaeri war that haunts him."

"Well, your father is a capable man. He'll handle himself."

"That's just it, he's not himself. He had always been steady, predictable. He was always around the inn working. Before I left mother wanted me to reminder to say a certain word to you. Vlakan. Do you know what it means?"

"Vlakan? Are you sure she said Vlakan?"

"Yes. She made me repeat to her several times. They never talked about the Celaeri War and what little I knew was from the other kids in town. I never knew my parents were involved."

"Involved? They were at the center of it," said Kerreth. "You will travel with us."

"I know you'll take good care of Davan," said Brevin. "So I will consider my duty discharged."

Kerreth grinned at the fat trader. "You'll be joining us too. Change your appearance slightly if you don't want the mages to figure out who you are. I'm sure Blackthorne already knows."

"Probably why he didn't stop," said Brevin. "Do I have a choice? Thought not. Well, Davan my lad, we shall travel together a while longer."