Beyond the Edge of Dawn (13 page)

“I’d say that was a good bet,” Pirneon said and reined in his horse.

A lone man emerged to block the road.

“We don’t be wanting no troubles from no G’mosian Knights,” he told them in a thickly accented voice.

Kavan thought the man’s tongue was too big for his mouth.

Pirneon held out empty hands. “We don’t come bringing any trouble. My name is Pirneon, this is….”

The man spit. “Don’t rightly care what you call yerselfs. Folks here have enough troubles to worry about, what with crops and children. You come a riding in here with all them weapons, and that be asking for trouble.”

Kavan chewed on his rising ire. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “That’s great. And you are who exactly?”

“Name’s Hars, and I be the constable,” he said with an inflated sense of self-importance.

“Constable Hars, we merely need to resupply and get a night’s comfort on a real bed before carrying on,” Pirneon told him. “We’ll be gone by dawn and will pay fair wages for any goods.”

Hars looked each of them up and down, as if deciding which was the most dangerous. “Chandlery be on your right. Ferrier is the next building down. We got a small inn on the outskirts a town. Food be good and at good price.”

With that, he turned and walked away. By the end of the night, everyone in Bronf would know how he put these Gaimosians in their proper place in no uncertain terms. Of course, he left out the part about them being so well armed the four could easily have run through the entire village if they wanted. Some facts were best left unsaid. He didn’t want the wrath of the dark gods to come down on him, after all.

King Eglios

The kingdom of Aradain was abuzz with rumors and gossip over the latest hunt. Twelve men went down into the recently discovered underground ruins, champions and master hunters all. Not a one had been seen since. As was the custom, Eglios declared a state of mourning to last no shorter than five days and nights. Names were added to the already growing monument in the town square of Rantis. Most of the kingdom’s residents knew little of the goings on in the capital, though, so the losses from the hunt seemed unimportant, impersonal. Only when one of the dire beasts managed to escape into the countryside did the peasants react.

Rantis was a tightly packed city of nearly ten thousand people living on top of each other. The city itself was young; only a few hundred years had passed since men first settled on the bluffs. Aradain was neither prosperous nor desirable. The land itself was farmable, but there were no riches in the soil. No veins of minerals ran beneath the dark earth. Instead of mines, there were farmsteads stretching for as far as the eye could see. The line of Eglios had been born on the backs of peasants.

That latent anger manifested itself down through the generations until part of it consumed the mind of the current liege. Many nights Eglios sat alone on his gilded throne, stewing over his legacy. Other kings were made of vast wealth, their names carried down from ancient times through heroes’ blood and temperance. Eglios was not so fortunate. A great bear of a man, he languished under the peasant rule. Near six feet tall and two hundred-fifty pounds, he was well into his forties. He’d lost his right eye in a border skirmish some years back when he’d stormed neighboring Barduk and almost doubled his kingdom.

Yet not even conquering another kingdom was enough to raise his stature amongst the other nobles across Malweir. So he sat and fumed, seeking new ways to earn a proper name for himself and for Aradain. It had been winter two years ago when the old stranger had ridden in under the blanket of a blizzard and promising to change Aradain’s fortunes. Corso claimed to be a priest in search of the right king to serve.

Corso wove a web of lies and subtle hints in the king’s ear. He whispered of greatness and the destiny of one of the greatest and most remembered lords in all of history. Eglios lit up at the thought and slept with dreams of glory. But Corso had other plans. He often disappeared for many days at a time, and where he went, none could say. Disappearances in Rantis and surrounding villages also rose. Most of the victims were homeless, drunken riff-raff no one missed.

Peddlers and travelers often reported hearing high-pitched screams coming from a tangled wood in the dead of night. Worse, any who tried to investigate were never seen again. Folk soon learned to stay well clear of the black wood. All the while, Eglios turned to Corso for advice. He secretly began building an army geared for invasion. Bases were fortified and enlarged at various points across the fold. Arms and armor were being produced at incredible rates.

Corso came into the throne room one year to the day after first arriving in Rantis with a wicked a smile. He claimed to have found a place of ancient power that would make Aradain invincible. Eglios asked to see this power and was met with a staying hand. All in due time, Corso promised. And he proceeded to detail his plans. So it was that the ruins of Gessun Thune were uncovered and the door to the coming darkness found.

Key players mysteriously disappeared. Others, once opposing the king, suddenly changed their opinions and became loyal, if somewhat skittish supporters. A year later, Eglios sat upon his throne dressed in crimson armor emblazoned with a lightning bolt crossing a sword. He recognized, but would never admit, that none of it would have been possible without the staunch advise from Corso, who now stood before him, hands folded in his robes. The king eyed his advisor sternly.

“You’re certain of this?” Eglios asked. His voice was deep and booming.

Corso nodded. “Yes, sire. They are coming to put an end to your reign.”

Eglios rubbed his chin. “How many?”

“Four.”

“Ha! Four have no chance of breaking through. My army is nearly ten thousand strong. A pathetic four, even Gaimosian, cannot hope to lay siege and kill me.”

Corso flashed a quick smile from within the shadows of his cowl. “But sire, these are no ordinary assassins. They are knights of Gaimos. They have certain powers.”

“Powers or not, they are of little concern. Gaimos is a forgotten kingdom. Their kind has been all but driven to extinction. Our fathers did the world a favor by ending that threat long ago.”

“Be that as it may, these knights are more dangerous than you imagine. Three others have already come to the hunts. They have to know about Aradain’s plans,” Corso teased, just skirting around the truth. “The Gaimosians must be stopped.”

“Where are they now?” Eglios asked.

At last, Corso thought. “South of here. Traveling across Ergos, as my spies tell me.”

“Ergos? I cannot send troops rampaging across two different kingdoms without risking open war,” he sputtered.

“There is always the Fist.”

“The Fist,” Eglios whispered.

The Fist was a highly disciplined unit of five hundred men, all personally recruited by Corso and completely loyal to him alone. They were hardened veterans from across Malweir who reveled in the gore of battle. Not even a handful of the legendary Gaimosians could match five hundred murderers.

“Very well,” Eglios relented. “Send the Fist. I would have this threat ended before they bring us all to ruination.”

“As you wish.”

Corso spun on his heels and left the throne room. His mind was alive with the possibilities suddenly presented. If all went according to his carefully laid plans, the dark gods would soon be free of their prison and the Gaimosian threat removed forever. Free to bring darkness and ruin to Malweir and all who had prospered from their banishment.

Dreams

Early springs soaked the grasslands of Ergos. Kavan, once again riding ahead as a scout, pulled the collar of his jacket tighter to keep the rain from running down his back. Being wet was bad enough, but there was no sense in being uncomfortable as well. He patted his horse on the neck for good measure and continued to ride. It was just past midday, and the skies continued to darken. He was beginning to have a bad feeling. Kavan had been through too many storms and knew when not to take the weather lightly. He looked up into the clouds, confirming his suspicions.

A major storm was building, and they were caught in the open. A distant rumble got his attention. Thunder. The rain came down harder. He almost wished for the cave back in the Kergland Spine, but that was nearly two hundred leagues behind them. The best he could hope for was to find a stand of trees thick enough to buffer the brunt of the storm.

He started to question exactly how he’d begun this quest. The initial idea had been all his, but Pirneon seemed to have eased into the leadership role and decided in which direction they would proceed. For a man used to working alone, that smarted. Kavan wasn’t a soldier and didn’t appreciate being given orders. More than once, he found himself biting his tongue rather than risk the cohesion of the group. Finding Geblin had almost been the breaking point. His previous encounters with Gnomes left him with little doubts as to why people were so prejudiced against them.

The only saving aspect of their adventure, at least as far as he was concerned, was Aphere. Attractive and intelligent, she more than aroused him. But that was also her downfall. He was very attracted to her and might have been interested in pursuing a relationship if only she wasn’t a knight. The title alone meant solitude. He’d known love once before, but it hadn’t lasted. She wasn’t ready to commit to a man who was always in danger, and he wasn’t prepared to abandon his oath. It was his life and purpose for being.

“Some life,” he muttered as the rain fell harder.

The rain hit with force. Fat, heavy drops with ill portent. The winds were picking up as well. Kavan settled himself in for a long, miserable day. Having a village nearby would have been nice, but Ergos was sparsely populated. They’d gone over the maps last night, as they had each night since leaving Bronf, and weren’t expecting to come across civilization for a few more days. The only choice they had was to ride the storm out.

Once more, his thoughts drifted to Aphere. Of how her body seemed to flow when they sparred. The way her clothes downplayed the curves of her body. How her eyes seemed to catch the sun. Kavan sighed. He knew it was futile. They were both knights and had no business falling in love. The best he could hope for was a long, passionate affair before they parted ways. He brightened at the thought. That wasn’t such a bad idea either.

It continued to rain harder. Kavan had resigned himself to the misery of the day when he spied a familiar and much needed sight in the distant gloom. A house. He’d stumbled upon a farmstead.

Kavan stretched out on a row of hay bales and let out a long groan that could only come from many hours in the saddle. He was sore and waterlogged. The ride to the farmstead had proved longer than he’d initially thought, so they’d gone for a few more hours before finally stepping out of the rain.

“It may only be a barn, but it has all the comforts of home,” he told them with his hands behind his head.

Aphere shook her head. “Maybe if you’re a cow.”

He shot her back a playful look. “It’s warm and dry, and the old man was kind enough to give us some hot food.”

He’d also agreed to let the knights spend the remainder of the day and night in his barn free of charge. Such acts of kindness, while not altogether rare, were most welcome.

“Smells as bad as the Ogre den,” Geblin said. His face scrunched in disgust.

“Oh, I don’t know. I could get to like the place,” Barum said.

Geblin snorted. “Bah! How can you live like this?”

“I suppose a Gnome hole is better?” Aphere asked.

Geblin grew furious. “We don’t live in holes. We’re a civilized people. Gnomes live in the forest, in the trees, and I’ll be damned if I sit here and take your insults much longer.”

She laughed again, mainly at the sight of the two-foot-tall gnome trembling with rage. “Trees it is, then.”

He sat back down and continued to glower at her.

The rain continued to fall.

Aphere awoke in the middle of the night covered in sweat. She instinctively reached for her sword. The only sounds in the barn were the slow drip of water from the roof and the breathing of the others. She pulled the steel from its scabbard anyway and climbed to the upper loft where she could see outside. Pirneon was there on his watch.

“You should be sleeping,” he told her without turning. “It’s not yet your turn for duty.”

She eased closer. “I was…disturbed.”

He craned his head. “By?”

“I don’t know. A dread overcame my dreams. I have the feeling we are being hunted.”

“Nonsense. No one has cause to bother with us,” he assured.

She wasn’t comforted. “I’ve felt this before, Pirneon, only not so powerful.”

“When?”

Her brow furrowed. “A few days back, after we left that village.”

“Perhaps it is just the dream. Our profession often spawns nightmares in the cold hours before dawn,” he replied.

She countered, “This is more than a dream. Too many times, I’ve found myself looking over my shoulders. Evil stalks us.”

“There is much evil in this world,” he sighed. “All we can do is combat it when it surfaces and leave the world a better place in our passing. Do not trouble your thoughts unnecessarily over this. The trek to Hresh Werd will be long, and there may well be dangers along the way. These we shall face when they arise. Go back to sleep. Rest your mind as well as your body.”

“You don’t trust me.”

Pirneon visibly stiffened at the accusation. While truthful, he wasn’t prepared to deal with it directly, not yet. “I don’t trust what I don’t understand. You come with boasts and claims of this new power, an aberration of what the bond was supposed to be. As of yet I haven’t seen any evidence of this power nor are you inclined to explain it fully. Perhaps if you were more forthcoming…”

“I can’t explain what I don’t know, Pirneon. This isn’t something I asked for. It just happened. Who can explain why the sun rises? I am a child of my environment, nothing more.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Time will tell, but so long as I have reservations towards you I will remain uneasy.”

Aphere knew from the finality of his tone that the conversation ended. She stewed over his words and silently fumed at the casual dismissal.
How could he be so blind? Surely the bond told him much the same?
At one point, her people had been considered among the best and brightest in all Malweir. Then ego had set in, and Gaimos had fallen. That deluded sense of superiority had led to their downfall, a fall Pirneon had survived. Now he was the one showing the error of hubris.

She tried to shrug off the terrible feeling gnawing away and fall back to sleep. Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and menacing. As she lay her head down, heavy winds shook the bark. Sleep was a long time in coming. Aphere lay with open eyes and watched the storm renew.

The storm continued unabated through the next day, and they agreed to wait it out in the shelter of the barn. All, that is, but Geblin. The Gnome grumbled and cursed for the remainder of the day. The longer he remained with the knights, the more he couldn’t wait to finally be free. Folding his wiry arms across his chest, he paced back and forth. No one paid his efforts attention.

Aphere had her own problems. She knew in her heart that something wicked was coming for them. Pirneon’s nonchalance about her confession infuriated her to no end, but what else could she do? All she had was a feeling. A crawling sensation buried deep within; all she’d known threatened to change.

The feeling grew stronger as the hours passed. She felt powerless. Aphere glanced around the barn, desperate for someone to confide in, but saw none. Pirneon had all but blown her off. Geblin was out of the question. Barum was becoming a good friend but still had much to learn about the world. That left Kavan. She wasn’t sure, but she had a hunch he was leaning towards romantic inclinations towards her. Flattering as it was, his love was the last thing she needed — the last any of them needed.

Her thoughts drifted back to those cold winter days in Ipn Shal under the teachings of Kistan. There, Aphere had learned to control her mind and body. The Gaimosian bond in her had transformed into a wondrous thing, giving her gifts and advantages few others enjoyed. Her insights served to heighten her senses. That newfound awareness left her certain they were being hunted. By whom, was the problem.

Aphere and Kavan broke contact and eased back from each other. They were covered in sweat and breathing hard. Their swords gleamed brightly in the emerging daylight. It had finally stopped raining in the small hours before dawn. Pirneon wanted to leave as soon as possible, but two days of being cooped up in the barn left them all restless and troubled. So they danced swords and released any pent-up frustrations in the process. Aphere still couldn’t shake the ill feelings, however, for they had only grown stronger. More than once, she found her mind distracted when it should have been focused on Kavan.

“You have good form,” he said, admiring the sheen of sweat on the bared flesh of her arms. “ But you’re not paying attention.”

Aphere lowered her sword. “I am troubled.” Her voice was the barest whisper.

“Do you have doubts about the mission?” he asked, the concern showing deep in the wells of his eyes. He went to sit on a moss-covered boulder to begin cleaning his sword.

Aphere shook her head. “We’re being hunted.”

Kavan’s head rose slightly. “By whom?”

“I don’t know. The feeling strengthens every so often but never goes away.”

“When did you last feel so?”

“Last night, just before dawn.”

An ill feeling crept into Kavan. “Have you told Pirneon?”

“He dismissed me without any thought.”

Kavan grunted. He wasn’t surprised. Pirneon was an old man set in his ways and didn’t take well to counsel. Convincing him of her revelations would prove difficult, especially given his attitude towards the inexplicable change of her bond. He didn’t say it, but the once Knight Marshal was weary and mistrusting of them. Kavan knew better than to intervene in the matter.

Geblin sat chewing on a piece of straw, listening carefully to their conversation. He couldn’t say why, but he also bore an ill feeling. He knew they were being tracked, and once they were discovered, the blood would flow. He thoughtfully searched for a way to save himself before it was too late.

High above the land, so high there wasn’t a shadow, a terrible winged beast soared between the clouds. The cross between a dragon and a nightmare, the great beast had skin of leathered flesh and dull, grey scales. Mottled shades of red and black spotted its belly. Twin horns ran back from the forehead, accenting green eyes with a malevolent twist. Clawed hands made for rending flesh apart reflexively clutched at the empty sky as it scanned the ground.

The beast hissed as its rider jerked the reins to guide right. Air whistled off the almost bone-like membrane of its vast wings. Pharanx Gorg patted the beast on the neck and smiled. His prey was below. He was the leader of the Fist. Pharanx was a tall and bitter man. Tattoos covered the majority of his flesh, barely discernible from the deep bronze coloring of the sun. Ragged black hair blew wildly in the wind. Naked from the waist up, Pharanx peered down.

Once locked on, his coal black eyes never left the tiny band of Vengeance Knights far below. Vengeance Knights. He scoffed their arrogance. Soon enough, their name would be put to the test. The Fist had never run across one of the legendary Gaimosians before, and he relished the opportunity. But as much as he would have liked to attack now, he had other matters to attend to. Corso needed to be updated, and Pharanx still needed to move the main body of troops into position to engage. The assault would come fast and violent. He had little doubt of the outcome. The Fist was about to strike.