Beyond the Edge of Dawn (12 page)

Corso

Howling winds buffeted against the black stone tower. Dark clouds snarled past. A mist shrouded the lower levels as if concealing some foul purpose. The very night was alive with repression. It was only fitting for the work being done. The lone tower was the only structure for leagues. It reached high into the sky, a relic from the old times when the First Races came into Malweir. Made entirely out of black granite and marble, the tower hummed with latent power. None living knew who had created such a thing or why. There were no legends, no dust-covered tomes explaining its purpose. It was forgotten by all but a few.

Cruel intentions surrounded the area for leagues. A wicked forest of vines and thorns, tangled limbs and gnarled trees had grown around the tower, lending a special brand of malevolence. The ground was littered with poisonous plants and lurking predators. A single path led from the forest edge to the base of the tower, a path that was only known by one. The secret had been handed down through the ages to those deemed worthy of beholding the dark power contained within.

So it was the current keeper of the knowledge entered the foul wood at dusk, for not even deepest night was safe for the chosen. Ancient wards protected the tower from prying eyes. He didn’t mind the wards; after all, he’d been responsible for reestablishing them once he assumed the role. Dressed in dark robes with a hood covering his head, he strode with powerful, confident strides. The woods stirred around him. Malicious creatures hungrily waited to see if he would make that fatal misstep.

At last, he arrived at the tower. His bony hand slid from the confines of his robe to point at the lock. Green light glowed from the tip of his almost skeletal finger and pulsed into the lock. A series of clicks echoed through the dusk, and the door groaned open. Pausing to give the forest a final look of warning, he entered the tower and began the long climb to the top.

Tonight was the first night of Spring, a special time for the followers of the power. The robbed man, Corso, tirelessly climbed the thousand steps to the upper floor. Fitting, he mused, for he was also one thousand years old. Ten centuries had he wandered across Malweir, tending the ways left behind by the dark gods. Tonight was the culmination of his long existence, a moment he’d striven for his entire life.

The moment was bittersweet. In order for his plan to work, he needed to die. His one solace came from knowing that his actions would send more of the pitiful remnants of the Gaimosian race to their dooms beforehand and even then after. He gained the landing, lost in conflicting thoughts, and used the green light to open the final door. Corso entered, drawing a shuddering breath as he passed through the electric tingle of the invisible warding. Tiny sparks reached down into his soul. The power was raw, unpredictable and strong enough that should any attempt to break in the tower would explode.

A waist high pedestal rested in the center of the room. There were no windows or other furnishings. Only the pedestal. Atop the flat surface sat a dust covered ball of solid onyx. Corso halted before it and bowed reverently. He began to chant in an ancient tongue that hadn’t been heard on the wind since the war of the gods. His eyes rolled back into his head, leaving in the small orbs vast emptiness. His arms stretched wide. Fingers pointed at the marble.

The marble ball began to spin, rising gradually up from the stone. Corso directed all of his thoughts and power at the ball. It spun faster, becoming a blur. The same green glow emanated from the marble, bathing Corso and the chamber. Corso’s head snapped back with an audible crunch. He screamed at the top of his lungs as green flames belched from his mouth. The magic lasted but a second before darkness claimed the chamber and Corso collapsed. The ritual had begun. His fate was now entwined with the rest of the world’s. Soon both he and Malweir would die.

Geblin

“What do we do with him?” Kavan asked, gesturing to the Gnome.

One day had passed since Pirneon had returned with the little creature, and Kavan was beyond fed up. They’d been forced to drag him to a small runoff pool Barum had discovered and scrub Geblin clean. He’d fumed and protested the entire time, but it was well deserved. The Gnome stank of Ogre. Aphere held his head underwater to get his cooperation, and he hadn’t stopped glaring at her since. He’d already tried picking each of their pockets, crying that it was in his nature and not to beat him. He complained about everything and was never satisfied. When Pirneon scolded him for acting like a crotchety old man, he fumed and folded his thin arms across his chest, claiming he was hardly out of his tweens.

Aphere looked sharply at the pouting Gnome. “Put him back in the cage, and be done with him. He is a most infuriating creature.”

“That would only lead to his certain death,” Pirneon cautioned. “He is harmless, for all of his faults. A bit of a nuisance, yes, but harmless nonetheless.”

“Then we go in the opposite direction if you don’t want me to kill him now,” Aphere warned.

Pirneon sighed. He admitted his own ire was raised at Geblin but not enough to wish him harm. Abandoning the Gnome now was just as good as putting him back in the Ogre hole. But they didn’t need another traveling companion, another mouth to feed. Geblin was a liability and, if Gessun Thune had indeed been discovered, as Kavan feared, he’d only stand a greater chance of getting killed.

“Calm yourself, Aphere,” Pirneon said. “As he said, it’s in his nature.”

“So obnoxious? If he tries to lift my purse again, I’ll break his little fingers,” she vowed.

Barum chuckled.

“Be that as it may, we simply can’t leave him in these mountains. He’d starve and die in a matter of days.”

Geblin’s head swung sharply at the mention of death.

“What I want to know is what he was doing in the Ogre cage to begin with. I didn’t think Gnomes lived in these mountains,” Kavan pointed out.

Feeling better, he was finally able to move on his own — a little, anyway. They’d bound his ribs to reduce the pain that had become a constant. He’d survive none the worse but required many more days of recovery. He scowled and frowned upon Aphere’s ministrations much the same as Geblin had.

“Geblin, come over here please,” Pirneon called.

Hesitantly, the Gnome obeyed. He remained just out of arms reach, for his experience left no faith in his new companions. “What do you want now? Think I’m some kind of pet for your amusement, do you? Ha!”

“Ingrate,” Kavan muttered.

Aphere added, “Just throw him off the cliff already.”

Geblin cringed under the constant onslaught of threats. Pirneon held up his hands to quiet his friends. “I’d like to know what you are doing up here. How did you arrive in your situation?”

Geblin snorted and stamped his foot. “I was about to be eaten is what I was doing. Or didn’t you notice the pile of bones?”

They heard Barum chuckle again from his guard post at the cave mouth. He found the Gnome’s sarcasm quite amusing, knowing his master’s famous patience was being put to the limits.

“We know that already,” Aphere snapped. She had a mind to say more but held her tongue out of respect for the former Knight Marshal.

Geblin clenched his jaw, clearly debating the merits of telling them more. Finally, he sat down and began his tale. “Two weeks ago my brother and four cousins were returning from a trading venture in Groskus. We were drunk and happy. We never saw the Ogre until it was too late. One by one he captured us and killed us. He…ate my bro… That’s my story, and I’ll be telling you no more,” Geblin said in an angry tone. He didn’t expect them to understand or care. They were Big Folk, after all.

“Ill fortune indeed has been visited upon you,” Pirneon said. Sadness clung to his voice.

Kavan added, “As it would have on us.”

He was still sore about giving their position away so easily, despite the Gnome’s story. Then again, if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to be done with the group, they would have walked into a similar ambush. Kavan shook his head slightly. He felt he was the victim in a lose-lose situation.

Geblin fumed. “Ill fortune! My kin were slaughtered and eaten! That’s not fortune; it’s cruelty.”

Pirneon said, “Yet you are still alive.”

“Only because the Ogre wanted to fatten me up first,” he admonished with a wagging finger.

“Nevertheless, you ought to consider yourself fortunate. The Fates spared you for a reason, Geblin,” Pirneon soothed.

“For what? To show me the error in my ways or just to mock me until I die?” He grew livid. “Big Folk are all the same, Ogre or men. Your kind can be just as cruel as them! I won’t stand for it.”

“Then stand alone, and let us be done with you,” Kavan fired back. “We saved your miserable life, and all you do is complain about it. Go back to where you came from and trouble us no more.”

“Kavan,” Pirneon warned.

“I owe this one no debt,” Kavan snapped.

Pirneon struggled to regain control of the situation. “No. You don’t. But I will not let him sit in these mountains to die. He comes with us until we’re down and on the plains again.”

Aphere walked away. She relieved Barum and stewed over the argument. There was no sentiment in her mind, for she cared little for the other races. Yet she couldn’t deny Pirneon spoke true. What was the point in rescuing him only to leave him for dead? She may have understood, but would never admit it aloud.

Kavan finally gave in, though with threatening undertones. “Very well, Knight Marshal, yet heed this. Should I find him stealing again, I’ll run him through and leave the corpse for the crows.”

Geblin felt the color drain from his face.

They stayed at the cave for another day. Barum went hunting and returned with a mountain goat. The knights ate heartily for the first time in days, especially after Pirneon returned to the Ogre’s cave to get a supply of firewood. A single wagon rolled through the pass during their time in healing. They stopped and exchanged tales and what current events were engaging. Pirneon bade the driver to spread the word of the Ogre in Lendren Pass so that folk could travel freely again. The driver waved and continued east towards the ferry. Geblin should have joined them, but something stayed his legs.

They awoke the following morning refreshed and ready to be done with the Kergland Spine. Geblin stumbled about in a drunken stupor; he’d snuck off in the night to find the wreckage of his wagon and came upon an unbroken cask of wine. Kavan watched in disgust as the Gnome urinated on his own boot.

“Where do I ride?” he asked before sneezing into the palm of one hand and wiped it off on his trouser leg.

“Not with me,” Aphere said and walked away.

“I’ll take him,” Pirneon said. “He’ll not be much of a burden.”

“Burden!” Geblin spat. “Who says I’ll have you?”

Having heard enough, Pirneon snatched Geblin by the shoulder and hauled him to the baggage mount. He ordered Barum to ensure the Gnome was tied down. It wouldn’t do for Geblin to fall off along their route of march. Barum chuckled again and produced a rope.

Kavan didn’t feel like wasting any more time and rode into the lead. Within moments, he was far enough ahead to be out of sight. The Gnome’s curses echoed off the pass walls. Kavan hoped there was only one Ogre, or they’d all be done for. Sighing heavily, he rode on.

Decisions

The rest of the journey through the mountains proved uneventful. Pirneon halted them a few leagues away from the base of the mountains where they made camp for the night. In truth, they could have gone much further, but the long days in the pass had taken their toll, and Kavan still wasn’t back to full health. They found a small stand of silver oaks and started a fire. Aphere and Barum went hunting, coming back with a small stag that would feed them for at least a week. Kavan managed to find some edible roots and berries to round out their meal.

Geblin awoke sober and in misery. He snatched at the stew pot and was met with the back of the ladle across his wrist and a stern warning that, if he wanted to eat, he was going to wash in the nearby stream first. Glowering, he reluctantly agreed that his stomach was more in charge than his brain.

Talk of their next move was made over dinner. Geblin, as part of his penance for earning his keep, was elected to scrub the pots before rejoining them in a refreshing cup of tea after dinner. He tried to protest but was quickly coming to understand the terms and quality of his rescue.

“How far to Hresh Werd?” Aphere asked once things had quieted down.

Pirneon thought about it. “I’d guess close to five hundred leagues.”

“That’s a long ride,” Kavan said.

“Six weeks at best.”

Aphere yawned and stretched. “Do you think we have six weeks to spare?”

“We don’t know the importance of events in Aradain. This might not even be Gessun Thune, but some other evil. We must also consider the way and reasons of an oracle. They rarely speak plainly. More like riddles and half-answers intended to get us to find part of our inner selves.”

Kavan barked a savage laugh. “Get one in reach of my falchion and see how fast we get answers.”

Pirneon shook his head. “No, Kavan. That is an impossibility. Oracles are well protected by elder magic. Some say they come from another world altogether.”

The first twinkle of stars began to shine in the twilight.

“Pah!” Geblin grunted. His tunic was soaked, and he wore his usual dour look. “Oracles are nothing but drug addicted knaves. They serve no purpose but the trickery of the Fates.”

All heads turned to the Gnome.

“Well, what?” he demanded. “Your ears need cleaning?”

“What makes you think that?” Aphere asked. The tone of the conversation made her uneasy for reasons she couldn’t explain. “Oracles have power.”

It was Geblin’s turn to shake his head, exasperated at their ignorance. “They help decide the future, don’t they?”

“They influence our actions and deeds,” Pirneon admitted.

“Which is the future. What do the Fates do?”

“Of course! They do the same thing but on a grander scale,” Pirneon realized. “Impressive, my small friend.”

Geblin offered a
hmph
and went back to the stream, grumbling.

Aphere stared up to the sparkling night sky. Her mind was filled with the wonder of too many things. Fates and oracles. Gessun Thune and dark gods. Then, there was Kistan and his growing movement. She felt overwhelmed, confused. She didn’t know which direction her life was moving in. She was an honor-bound knight of vanquished Gaimos but felt like something else at times. The bond she shared with the others was changed enough to make her feel like an outcast. She felt uncomfortable at her deepest levels.

Then there was her companions. Kavan stared at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, a passing longing in the back of his eyes. That he was attracted to her was beyond question, but why? She’d made no motions to attract such attention. As far as she was concerned they were peers and nothing more. Barum, on the other hand, proved subtly more fascinating. Quiet confidence defined him, almost making her wish he was more vocal, especially when assuming the role of Pirneon’s conscience.

So. Two admirers and a long list of bad reasons to get involved. Aphere seldom found life to play on an even field, but this experience might prove more maddening than it was worth. Still, she couldn’t help but smile, always secretly, whenever she spied Barum blush at being caught looking at her. She sighed her frustrations.

Perhaps the oracle would be able to help. It was said that oracles know all and can give the answers to worthy seekers. Surely, she fell into that category. Wasn’t this quest one of honor and value to all peoples of Malweir? She thought so, else she wouldn’t have come. Aphere sighed longingly. There were too many uncertainties. The one thing she was sure of was that she was destined for more. Aphere quieted her mind as Kistan had taught her. She practiced using her thoughts to move objects until her guard shift was over.

“Today, we must decide our course of action,” Pirneon said after a quick meal of cooked oats sprinkled with sugar.

Kavan rolled his eyes, tired of being part of a team, and went to empty his bladder. They’d been having the same conversation repeatedly since leaving the cave in the Kergland Spine, and he was sick of it. He was the type of man who made a quick decision and adjusted afterwards. All else was senseless banter. Pirneon was cautious by nature, perhaps too much so but at least understandable after his experiences during the Fall. Caution had the propensity to be both boon and bane. Kavan pulled his trousers up and looked upon the dew-laden plains of Ergos. The kingdom ran forever, all the way to the western coast. Most of it was grass covered with clots of trees and light forests. He turned back to the camp. At least the ride seemed easy enough.

“What say you, Kavan?” asked Pirneon. “Rantis or Hresh Werd?”

“I say the same thing I’ve been saying from the beginning. The Werd.”

Pirneon watched the younger knight as he walked past. A very angry man, he concluded, but what he couldn’t figure out was why. Clearly much had changed in the years since he had apprencticed a young Kavan. Surely, his life had been hard and long fought. It was no different for any of them. Pirneon decided to try and find out why. After all, they had more than enough time before arriving in battle. Mired in thought, Pirneon watched Geblin amble by as well. The Gnome presented another situation entirely. His kind was much hated in the western kingdoms. A single Gnome presented an easy target for drunks and thieves. Then again, he knew he couldn’t take Geblin against his will, especially into a potentially dangerous situation.

“Geblin,” he called.

The Gnome suspiciously turned.

“How far is it to the nearest of your kin?”

His eyes lowered. “Why? They won’t be taking me back after this. I’d be a disgrace.”

“I’m sorry,” Pirneon gently said. “But we must decide what to do with you. It is a long ride to Hresh Werd. After that, we head into certain danger in Aradain. The chances of survival decrease with each passing day, even for one of us.”

“So you’re just going to leave me here and bid farewell as you ride off like the gallant knight you claim to be? I don’t think so. You found me, saved me, now it’s your responsibility to get me to safety.”

“This is about as safe as you can get,” Aphere snapped, tightening the belly strap of her saddle. “With a little bit of work, you can make a nice living here.”

He shot her a baleful look before realizing it.

“You may ride with us until you find a suitable place of your liking. Yet heed this: this is not a free ride. You will earn your place among us. No one eats unless they work. Such is our way. Can you abide by this?” Pirneon leveled his gaze and looked sternly down upon the Gnome.

Geblin shuffled his feet. “I can, so long as none of you threatens to hurt me again. And I can leave at any time I want.”

“Leave now, for all I care,” Aphere said. She, like Kavan, had had enough of his posturing. She’d never seen a Gnome before and never wanted to meet another if he was any indication of their race.

“Agreed,” Pirneon answered for all. “I suggest you check your attitude around here, and don’t try to steal from us again. Else I might not be able to save you.”

Geblin paled and hesitantly agreed. A death wish was the one thing he lacked, and he decided that running afoul of these knights wasn’t in his best interests. Gently this time, Pirneon helped him aboard the packhorse, and the small band was back underway.

The next three days went by without event. In fact, nothing changed. The grass remained the same. The stands of trees. Even the far horizons appeared constant due to the lack of mountains. The tedious nature of their journey caused them to let their guard down and grow lax, if but slightly. They rode. They ate. They slept. The next day, they did it all again. And the next day. Conversation had stalled. There was some speculation on what the oracle might offer on finding Gessun Thune. Occasionally, thoughts of the dark gods entered their sleep to induce nightmares. These were never shared or talked about, for the knights were too proud to admit to petty fear.

On the third night, they enjoyed a wild pheasant. Nightfall crept upon them. Barum took his turn on guard duty, given the early shift so that he could sleep through the night. Geblin, tired of the knights and their seemingly pointless wondering, stumbled off to a small crook in the nearest tree and grumbled himself to sleep.

“We should be coming to a village soon,” Kavan speculated. His time in the low country was minimal, leaving much to guesswork. “Our supplies are running low, and the horses need grain. About the only thing we have plenty of is the Gnome’s wine.”

“Only because I haven’t let him have any yet,” Aphere chided.

Kavan glanced at her, admiring the way her auburn locks fell over her shoulders. She stretched slowly in a display of deadly grace. She caught Kavan’s look, and they shared a smile. He was beginning to feel better. The ride across the rolling plains of Ergos did much to not only improve his spirits but give his body time to heal. Even his animosity towards Geblin faded, if only just. Stripped down to an undershirt and trousers, Kavan did his own stretching. Tonight was the first night he felt well enough to practice with his sword.

“The map says we should be coming up on the village of Bronf,” Pirneon said. “We’ll arrive sometime around midday, provided nothing happens along the way.”

Aphere snorted a quiet laugh. “What could possibly happen? We’ve been in trouble ever since the final night in the desert. I wouldn’t know how to behave if it all came to an end now.”

Pirneon held his tongue.

“Are you ready?” she turned to ask Kavan.

“Give me a few minutes,” he replied.

Her eyes bore a mischievous gleam. “I suppose you expect me to take it easy on you? Poor thing. Should I go get a stick to use rather than my sword?”

“Only if you want to get cut,” he growled back. “I’m ready.”

Steel met steel, and the glade erupted in the sounds of combat. Pirneon never once looked up.

“Damned fool Humans,” Geblin swore under his breath after being awoken. “Quiet that racket! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Bronf was a one-road village with about twenty homes and a handful of necessary businesses. Location was the only thing of value Bronf had to offer. It was situated along one of the major trade routes running across Ergos. The chandlery was the only two-story building in the village and that but barely. Smoke drifted lazily up from the chimneys. Even though spring had graced the land, a chill remained.

Most of the thatch-roofed homes had modest sized pens behind them. Pigs and chickens were the mainstay. One of the larger farmsteads they had passed on the road into town held a hundred head of cattle. Farmers and villagers were spotted dotting the fields, preparing for the coming planting season. All in all, Bronf was like every other village across the face of Malweir. Cozy, quaint, and out of the way. The kind of village where everyone knew everyone, and there was never any trouble.

The Vengeance Knights rode into the village under the wary gaze of the villagers. Many suspected a raid. Pirneon saw it in their faces. A few mothers ran to get their children. Men reached for what meager weapons they had. The oldsters looked a little closer and frowned. It was worse than they’d initially thought. The newcomers were no ordinary raiders. They were Gaimosians.

None living had ever fought the Gaimosians, though some of their great fathers had. The next generations grew up with tales of horror. Some claimed the knights bore supernatural powers. Others said they were in league with the dark gods. Whichever tale be true, the people of Bronf weren’t welcoming.

“Not exactly a friendly village,” Kavan said. Try as he might, he couldn’t get any of the villagers to look him in the eye.

Pirneon continued scanning for signs of trouble, even while giving the illusion of calm. He realized that many of the plains villages suffered from seasonal raids, and for four heavily armed riders to come unannounced could very possibly spell doom.

“Yet not openly hostile, either,” he replied. He nodded to one of the oldsters eying them carefully from a rickety rocking chair on his porch.

Aphere didn’t feel calm, but neither did she have a sense of impending danger. “Do you think they know we’re not raiders?”