Fall of the Western Kings (Tirumfall Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

A roar of approval went up from Barlon’s troops.  The city dwellers turned glumly from the scene.  Slowly, the gathering broke up, leaving the soldiers to find refuge where they could.  Barlon spent his first hours strolling through the marvelous sandstone castle, admiring the craftsmanship and architecture of the massive, lavishly appointed structure, with its high ceilings, wide windows and intricate carvings.

That evening Barlon’s supply master put forth an elegant banquet prepared from the best of the castle’s provisions.  Wine flowed into the streets and before the night was done, his army fell into a drunken slumber.  In the city streets, Barlon’s drunken troops looted and pillaged unhindered.  Barlon, too, drank heavily and was carried to bed by Lom in the wee hours of the morning.  Only Varg and a few others refrained from over indulgence. 

At dawn’s light, an exhausted serving girl set her tray down in the kitchen.  She had seen a night full of drunken revelry and she was tired.  She mounted the stairs past sleeping soldiers and entered her second story room.  There she slipped out of her coarse rags, fit only for a scullery maid, and carefully removed the wax scar that had turned her pretty face into a horrible apparition.  She picked up the knee-length white gown that lay over the bed and walked to the window.  With one hand she threw it open and watched the new dawn.

Her heavy sigh broke the silence.  Fatigue bore crushingly on her.  There was no rest.  She cast her spell of change and became a great eagle, tested her wings, and launched into the growing light.

#

The same night Barlon’s troops enjoyed the splendor of Pogor, a small sailing craft glided silently down the Rushon River.  Abadis stood at the rail, his robes fluttering gently in the stiff breeze.  He peered intently at the forest slipping past, hoping to catch a sign of Gant.  Occasionally he saw the luminous, green eyes of some wild animal, but there was no sign of the young warrior.

The smaller moon sent fingers of light dancing across the wavelets, but Abadis paid no attention.  War was pending, and somehow he had to find Gant. The boat was still a day away from Malathon and Abadis had hoped to find Gant before he reached the city.  What happened to Gant after he vanquished Egog?  He had to be somewhere between the cavern and Blasseldune.  Maybe he had not gone to the river.  Maybe the foolish boy had struck off overland to Netherdorf.  Maybe he had been killed in the wild.  There were still many powerful creatures roaming the wilderness, even a few that Valorius might have trouble with.

Abadis scanned back along the boat.  It wasn’t large and probably could carry a dozen passengers.  He’d only seen one since boarding late yesterday evening, and that was an elderly merchant from Falls Hill.  Abadis had seen him before and from what little he knew, the man was moderately successful and totally dull.  By this late hour, the decks were clear except for the bow watch and helmsman.

At that moment, a lithe, feminine shape approached Abadis hesitantly.  In the relative dark it was hard to see her features, yet there was something vaguely familiar about her.

“Abadis,” said the woman, half questioning, half greeting, her voice light and musical.

“Yes,” he said, his mind struggling to identify the voice.

“It is you,” she said and stepped up next to him.

“Dalphnia,” the wizard said, finally able to see her face.  “You are a long way from home.  Don’t tell me no men come to your forest anymore.”

“Oh no,” she laughed.  “I found the finest man I’ve ever known.  But he left me.  Can you believe it?  Left me to go to war.  I decided too late that I needed him.  I love him too much to say goodbye.  I’m going to find him.  And that thanks to the stone of freedom you gave me.”

“That trinket?  Never did me much good.  But how could a man leave
you
?  I thought your magic bound men to you until death.”

“Not this one.  I think it was the armor, or maybe the sword.  It really doesn’t matter. I can only love one man, and as long as Gant lives, I’ll find him.”

“Gant!”  The wrinkles froze on Abadis’ weathered face.  “You found him near the cave in Little Mountain Pass.”

“Yes, near death.  I nursed him back to health.  And he was mine, until the day he touched his sword.  It broke my spell. After all I’ve been through, all the men, you’d think I could handle one rejection.”  Her face saddened.  “I can’t.  He’s special.  There’s something about him. . .”

“There certainly is.  How long ago did he leave?”

“A few days.   I went to Falls Hill and booked passage on the first boat.”

“And I’ve forgotten the mirror.”  The wizard turned and, with a rustle of robes, started for his cabin.

“Abadis, you know him,” she said, grabbing his sleeve. “Help me find him.”

“I can’t.  Forget him.  He’s not like any other man alive. He’ll never come back.  I’m sorry, but I must go.”

He rushed to his room, never looking back, never seeing the tears streaming from her delicate cheeks into the dark river water.

He made a sign at the door to undo the lock, hurried in, signed the door locked again and pulled a small, oblong mirror from deep in the folds of his robe.  It looked exactly like the one in his cabin except it was only a few inches long.  The message on it in tiny red letters read: “War has begun.  We are holding own for now.  Gant is here.”

He cursed, loud and long.  Then, quickly he recited the words of travel, threw a dash of dust into the air along with a few hand signs, and the wizard vanished from his cabin.

Chapter 30

G
ant paced restlessly around the small room that served as Abadis’ kitchen and living area.  He had too much idle time to think.  He couldn’t sleep.  As soon as he lay down, his head raged with problems, mostly about things beyond his control; his family, his uncle, King Tirmus, Dalphnia.  Especially Dalphnia.  Would she be there when he got back?  If he ever got back.  Where was King Tirmus?  Questions without answers.

Zandinar, for his part, said little.  He seemed content to let fate choose his path.  Most of the time he either slept or sat wrapped in his furs even though the house was warm.

Gant paced back and forth across the room as he’d done a hundred times already.  Zandinar slept quietly against the far wall.  There was a faint hiss in the air and there stood Abadis, his bearded face contorted in a grimace, deep furrows across his forehead.

“Abadis.  It’s about time.”

“Way past time,” said the mage.  “Who’s your friend?” he asked pointing to the ball of furs.

“Zandinar.”

“Oh?”  Abadis paused a moment, his expression thoughtful.  Finally he mumbled, “Maybe he’s found his destiny.”  Then to Gant he said, “Has my granddaughter been back?”

“No.  She said she’d be back as soon as she could.”

“Tonight, I hope.  Meanwhile, I’ve got things to do.”

“What about us?”

“Wait here.”

Abadis turned and started for his workshop. He stopped, turned back. “Almost forgot.  The sword.  What about the sword?” he asked, holding his hand out for it.

“What about it?”

“Let me see it,” said Abadis shaking his hand impatiently.

Gant pulled Valorius from her scabbard.  “What do you want Valorius for?”

“To see how much magic was sucked out of her by Egog.  You don’t think the magic in an object is unlimited, do you?”

Gant handed the sword to Abadis and watched the wizard turn the sword over slowly in one hand, his eyes half closed as if sensing its magical energy.

“Well?” asked Gant.

“Hard for me to tell.  There’s still more magic in her than I can gauge.  But will it be enough to stop Varg?”  He handed the sword back to Gant.  “I wish Uric was here,” he muttered entering his workshop and closing the door behind him.

Gant felt Valorius.  He felt the tingle of magical energy. He couldn’t remember what she’d felt like when Uric had given her to him. Was she weaker now?  Maybe. He wasn’t sure.  He returned Valorius to her scabbard.

Sitting down at the table Gant eyed a strip of dried beef.  His stomach churned.  Maybe a little food would help.  The dry stringy meat went down hard.  He chewed more to relieve the tension than for sustenance.

Hours passed and Gant fidgeted with his equipment noting that his armor had healed from the dent Zandinar had put in it.  He went outside and worked sword exercises on the grassy area in front of the house, slashing and parrying imaginary opponents until arm weary.

Finally he went back inside.  Zandinar sat at the table polishing his sword.

“Abadis come out yet?”

“No.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“A little while.”

Gant admired Zandinar's sword.  “Where did you get such a magnificent weapon?”

“My mother.”

“Yes, you told me that.  Is she a wizard?”

“You might call her that.”

“Was your father a wizard?”

“No, he wasn’t.  He probably died a long time ago.”

“You don’t know if he’s alive?”

“No.  I never met him.”

Strange, thought Gant. If Zandinar never met his father it seemed unlikely he could know whether he was a wizard or not. And what kind of a wizardess was Zandinar’s mother?

After a moment of silence, Gant walked to a cabinet and helped himself to a small glass of Abadis’ elixir.  He swallowed the smooth liquid quickly and then turned back to Zandinar.  “Where are you from?”

“North.”

“Where north?  Penton?  Kittenspenny?”

“I’m not from any town.”

“What made you come here?”

“I seek only my destiny, which was first to find you.”

Before Gant could say anything else, Abadis shuffled somberly out of his workshop.  Both swordsmen looked up and waited for the old man to speak.  Clearly something was on the wizard’s mind.

Abadis stopped at the table, dropping heavily onto one of the stools.

“I don’t understand,” he said.   “I can’t locate Uric. Usually the magic flux near him makes it easy for me to find him.” Abadis looked up, fixing his gaze on Gant. “Uric was still at Netherdorf Castle, wasn’t he?”

“Last I knew.”

“Then he should have been there when Gorth attacked.  Even if they succeeded in killing him, his body would still hold enough magic to pinpoint it.  But there’s no trace.  It’s as if he vanished.”

“Maybe he’s taken King Tirmus somewhere safe.”

“And not told me?”

“Maybe he tried.  You’ve been gone a lot.”

Abadis scratched his gray beard thoughtfully.  “Yes, I had to hunt you down.  We must have your sword if there’s to be any chance of defeating Varg.”

“And maybe mine as well,” added Zandinar, still polishing it.

“Right now,” said Abadis, “I think we’re going to need an army to stop Gorth.  We’ll need enough troops to tie up his soldiers so we can corner Varg, otherwise it’s hopeless.”  He stopped, thought of something else, and then added, “I wonder where Uric is.”

“What about the Eastern Empire?” asked Zandinar.  “Maybe they would help.  They’re supposed to have the largest army anywhere.”

“Perhaps.  But they have a boy emperor who listens too much to old ministers and they want little or nothing to do with the West unless there’s money or power in it for them.  Maybe Gant could ask. I’m not well thought of in Malathon.”  Abadis’ voice took on a deep note of sarcasm.  “The ministers fear anyone with power.  They’re afraid I’ll catch the emperor’s ear.”

“Then we need to get going,” said Gant.  “It’s a long ride.”

“I can take you,” said Abadis.  “It’s near my limit for distance and while there are no wizard’s circles in Malathon that I know of, I do know a place where it should be safe to take you.”

“What’s a wizard’s circle?” asked Gant.

“A guaranteed safe spot.  It is a magically protected zone that prevents change within that location.  We put them in strategic spots where we expect to travel regularly.  Magical transport can be very dangerous.  Buildings get built, furniture and walls get built or moved and when that happens you can easily appear within something solid.  The end.”

“So you know somewhere in Malathon that hasn’t changed?”

“Yes.  It’ll be okay.  I can take you there but you’ll have to go to the emperor’s court and present our case. While you do that, I think I’ll do a bit of exploring in Netherdorf Castle.”

“Let me go with you.”

“Some other time.  Right now we each have a task that must be done.”

“Okay,” said Gant, biting his lip.  “While you’re in Netherdorf look for my mother and father.”

The thin spark of hope that glimmered in his heart burst into flame.  Maybe his parents were all right and he would see them again.

“I’ll do my best.  You just make sure you see the emperor.”

“How will we get in to see the emperor?  Walk up and ask to see him?”  Gant tried to imagine how one gained an audience with an emperor.  He couldn’t think of anything short of charging in at sword point and he was sure that wouldn’t work.

“That’s pretty close.  All you’ll need is a little gold.”

“I haven’t got any gold.”

“Yes, you will need gold.”  Abadis waved his hands in the air, mumbled a few strange words and suddenly a large iron ring appeared in the floor attached to a trapdoor that hadn't been there a moment ago.  “Help yourself,” he said.

Gant grabbed the iron ring and though the trap door looked like it was made of hardwood planking, by himself he couldn’t budge it.  Zandinar lent his strength to lifting the ring and they succeeded in pulling aside the three-foot square cover.

Inside was a huge chest buried beneath the floor.  Gant eagerly flipped back the lid to reveal a fortune in gold, silver and gems.  He stared in disbelief, never dreaming such wealth existed, let alone under Abadis’ floor.

“Well, go ahead.  Take a few handfuls of gold coins.” The graying wizard motioned Gant to move, a laugh in his gray eyes.

Gant took out his nearly empty coin purse and stuffed it with coins.  He closed the chest and with Zandinar’s help, replaced the trapdoor.  Another spell and the ring and trap door disappeared.

“Now, take my hands, form a circle and be very still,” said Abadis, holding out a gnarled hand to each of them.  “Moving during casting can break down the spell and then who knows where we’d end up or whether we’d live through it.”  Once he had a firm grip on the younger men and the circle was complete, he mumbled, “Let me see, the exact location for Sylvia’s is. . .”

Abadis recited a barely audible verse and a whispered location.  A fuzzy luminescence surrounded the group and Abadis’ room vanished.   They were swept along a featureless tunnel through some unimaginable dimension and then in a rush they materialized in a sparsely decorated bedroom.  Gant steadied himself as a wave of nausea swept over him.  It passed and he looked around.  A large mirror hung on the ceiling looking down on the single occupied bed.  The moaning from beneath the thrashing covers made Gant queasy all over again. Abadis hustled them out the door into the hall before those in bed noticed they had visitors.

Abadis pulled the two warriors down a flight of stairs into a lavishly furnished sitting room on the ground floor. The walls were light colored wood that shone in the bright sunlight streaming through wide windows.  Paintings of scantily clad women hung strategically around the room along with a large, exquisitely framed mirror.  Four beautiful young women sat in various stages of undress that brought a flush to Gant’s ears.  An elderly woman stood behind one of the younger women, meticulously combing the younger woman’s shoulder length shiny hair.

“Sylvia,” said Abadis as they entered the room.

The older woman turned, startled at first, but then a smile smoothed away the surprise.

“Abadis,” she called, running to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.  “I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you.  You were just here and I thought you had important business that was going to keep you away for a while.”  She elbowed him playfully and now it was the wizard’s turn to redden.

She looked at Zandinar and Gant.  “And you’ve brought friends.  Are they in need of a good time? You know we’ll take real good care of them, you scoundrel.”  Sylvia hugged Abadis again.

“No, actually your place is the only one I could remember well enough to use.  This is Gant and Zandinar,” he pointed to each in turn. “They have to see the emperor this afternoon.  I thought you could give them a good meal and let them stay here until I get back to pick them up, probably later tonight.”  Abadis pressed a small stack of coins into Sylvia’s hand.

She looked at the money and started to give it back.  “I don’t want this,” she said with mock sternness.  “I’d much rather you stayed for a while instead of running off again.”

“Keep it.” said Abadis. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Are you sure all they need is a meal?”

“You could help them get in to see the emperor.  Otherwise, yes, all they need is a meal.  Now, I
must
go.”

Abadis bent and gently kissed Sylvia’s cheek.  Before he could pull back she grabbed his head in both hands and kissed him on the mouth.  Abadis’ ears turned crimson, but he kissed her back before pulling away.

“Hurry back,” Sylvia said with a wink as the wizard began his chant.

A fuzziness grew in the air and the wizard vanished.  Sylvia ushered Gant and Zandinar into a combination kitchen-dining room off the main reception area. 

Several of the girls followed them gleefully and quickly put together a wonderful meal of roast beef, fresh bread and baked apples. 

“What kind of place is this?” asked Gant, savoring a bite of baked apple.

Sylvia laughed.  “You don’t get out much, do you?  I run the finest, most exquisite brothel in all the Eastern Empire.  Are you sure you don’t need something more than a bite to eat?”

Gant choked.  “Really?” he sputtered and then thought of Dalphnia.  “No, thank you.  Maybe Zandinar?”

The knight shook his head no and Sylvia returned to the reception parlor.  Gant and Zandinar ate in silence ever conscious of the surrounding femininity and though one girl would flash a bit too much leg, and another might bend over a tad too far, both men’s eyes remained fixed on their food.

Finally when they finished, Sylvia returned with a huge bull of a man.  He stood taller even than Zandinar and so wide he had to slip sideways through the door.  He was dressed in a loose-fitting silk shirt and pants that helped hide his bulk, but the tree-trunk arms hanging from the short sleeves were impossible to miss.