NPCs (20 page)

“Finally, I have armor and daggers for the savior of my children. I presumed that, as a paladin, you might not feel comfortable wearing demon armor or weaponry.”

“Thank you for the consideration,” Thistle replied. “While I’m not certain Grumble is too particular about those sorts of things, I’m happier not trying to chance it.”

Mayor Branders pulled out three mist-balls this time, setting each one on the ground in succession. The first two turned into daggers: long, sharp tools that were well-made and honed for killing. The final ball made a loud
pop
before revealing a set of gleaming steel armor, sized perfectly for one of Thistle’s stature and proportions.

“The armor has been mildly enchanted. It will offer a slight increase in resistance but, more importantly, it should conform to the nooks and bends of your body like fitted cloth. The daggers are mundane, but the finest I was able to procure.”

“Your generosity overwhelms me,” Thistle said, hopping from his perch and hobbling over to examine the wares. The daggers felt exquisite in his hands, second only to the ones he’d borrowed from Sierva. Polished, balanced, and actually made for hands his size, these would be true weapons when he wielded them, not mere slapdash tools of defense. The armor was also notably well-made, so much so that Thistle felt he’d look ridiculous wearing it. Who had ever heard of a gnome, a minion at that, in plated steel? Well, the kingdom of Solium would, once they arrived to serve the king. Best to get comfortable with the idea now; soon enough, he’d have to be selling others on it.

“I’d like to get suited up, if your people would be so kind as to assist me,” Thistle announced. “We have a long ride ahead of us and the roads are perilous. Best to be ready for anything.”

“Of course.” Mayor Branders gestured and the remaining two attendants hurried over to help Thistle don his armor. “The remainder of the supplies you need have been loaded onto horses outside. When you’re ready, you are all free to ride out of town.”

“We cannot thank you enough,” Thistle insisted, knowing full well that by the time they were ready to go, the town would be bustling with adventurers, all getting an eyeful of the mayor’s kindness as they left.

“No, good paladin, I cannot thank you enough,” Mayor Branders replied, knowing the same things as Thistle, but one thing more. He knew that, pageantry aside, he truly did intend to make good on his word and turn Appleram into a haven for well-meaning adventurers. He didn’t begrudge these people the twinkles of doubt in their eye, even as they accepted his gifts. Mayor Branders was a man who came from working stock and considered himself one of them. He understood that actions, not words, proved the merit of a man.

This was a good start, but he had a long road of his own ahead of him.

* * *

The four adventurers who left Appleram that day, amidst the stares and curious whispers of adventurers and townsfolk alike, could scarcely have been recognized as the same foursome who’d traipsed along the road only days prior. For one, they were no longer dirty or road-weary; instead, they held themselves tall and proud atop their strong horses. For another, they were no longer clad in filthy clothes and clutching meager belongings. Whether it was the wild-eyed blonde in the blood-red scales, the tiny gnome in the gleaming plate, the stoic half-orc with the book clutched under his arm, or the lean human who made eyes water if stared at for too long, they were each an impressive sight to behold.

They encountered no resistance as they made their way out of Appleram, save perhaps for the occasional nod or wave from a fellow adventurer. Some of these were superfluous, but many were gestures of recognition, gratitude, or respect. In the melee of the demon’s attack, there had been no time for formalities such as name exchanges, greetings, or even words. Still, when one was saved from a monster by a fellow warrior, that face tended to stick about in one’s memory.

Despite lingering about long enough for breakfast and taking a slow, trotting exit out of town, the four travelers passed the last of Appleram’s outlying farms before midday. With that, they were officially on the road, subject to the whims of the wild, and facing the possibility of danger at every turn. Even so, it was another hour into the ride, when the sun hung directly overhead and bore down on them with relentless intensity, that the first words finally exited their mouths.

“Think it’s safe to slump down a bit yet?” Eric asked, his tone terse as the spasms from holding his spine in place threatened to make him yelp in pain.

“A bit more,” Grumph instructed. “We need to leave strong.”

“I know, I know; we want to be high-profile and easily recognizable in case anyone checks our story. I’m just not used to riding like this and it’s killing my back.”

“Hey, one of us is wearing much heavier armor than you and managing not to complain,” Gabrielle piped up. “I think you can pull it together for another few miles.”

“Says the girl who has more experience than any of us riding and holding proper posture,” Eric replied, pain making him a touch more snappish than he might normally allow himself to be.

“We’ll be on a proper forest road soon,” Thistle said, pointing to the large patch of green in the distance. “Once we’re in there, I think we can get more comfortable. If nothing else, there are wild animals about, and I’d hate for us to die on the road because we were too stiff to react properly, especially after coming all this way.”

“That’s actually something I wanted to bring up.” Eric bit his lip a bit, this time not from the pain but from uncertainty. He wasn’t quite certain how to broach this topic, yet he felt like it needed to be addressed. Better to do it clumsily than not at all. “After everything we did in Appleram, building up our profile and the like, is it possible that Maplebark might already be safe? I mean, we definitely made a name for ourselves, and no one will go looking for dead adventurers in Maplebark when they were fighting demons days later in Appleram.”

Thistle nodded, causing a beam of sunlight to bounce off his new helm and momentarily blind Grumph, who snorted in annoyance. “I hit on the same conclusion yesterday. You’re right; for all intents and purposes, we’ve probably removed Maplebark from being a potential target of the king’s wrath.”

The road filled with the sound of clopping hooves as Gabrielle abruptly jerked her horse to a halt. “Wait, what? If we saved Maplebark already, then why are we going to Solium? We did what we set out to do.”

“Please note, Gabrielle, I said we
probably
succeeded. That means we have very good chances of our families and friends not being killed if we die on the road. But there is still a measurable chance. Is ‘probably’ good enough when it comes to the lives of people you love?”

“Oh.” Gabrielle squeezed the horse with her thighs and it began to move once more. “Sorry, I misunderstood.”

“It’s fine,” Thistle assured her. “But I want to pose a question to you, something to ponder on this last leg of our journey. If we make it to Solium, pass off our deception, and complete whatever task King Liadon assigns us, what comes next?”

“Obviously, we’d go home,” Gabrielle said.

“I’m not sure I want that.” Eric’s voice was clear and audible, yet somehow softer than they were accustomed to hearing. “My life back there was… unfulfilling. I’m not saying I want to be an adventurer — these last few days have been beyond terrifying — but I don’t think I can go back to being the laughingstock of the guards. That’s assuming your father would hire me back.”

“My father would… you’d get a job.” Gabrielle trailed off as she spoke, the full realization of what she was proposing hitting her. If she went back, the tug-of-war would begin anew. This time, it would be even worse, actually, because her father would spare no expense on keeping her safe. No more goblin vacations to help keep her mind steady. She’d be stuck in her prim and proper role with no release, no escape.

“Bear in mind, this all hinges on us actually surviving,” Thistle reminded them. “A very thin possibility. I merely wanted to bring up the idea because, if nothing else, it will give us all something to hope for. Sometimes, on these journeys, having a dream at the end of it all is the only thing to keep you going.”

“Sooner or later, you have to tell us how you know so much about adventuring,” Eric said.

“Soon, but not now.”

“After Solium.” Grumph’s rough voice surprised them all; they’d been lulled into a peaceful state by the conversation and sound of hoof beats.

Thistle stared at his old friend for some time before deigning to give a nod. “Aye, very well. If we make it through Solium, I’ll tell you my whole story. Don’t get too excited, it’s not all that fascinating.”

“Then why work so hard to keep it secret?” Eric asked.

“It’s not secret; I don’t really care who knows my past.” Thistle turned his eyes away from his friends and set them on the path before them. “I just hate talking about it. Reliving it all is too… there are painful memories that I don’t like to dwell on. But Grumph is right: if we make it through this, that’s the least I can do. After Solium.”

They rode in silence after that, intently listening for warning sounds and to the worries echoing in their own minds.

18.

The city of Solium announced its presence long before any traveler stepped through the mighty gates in the stone wall that encircled the city. It could be seen in the upkeep of the roads, how they were flat, clean, and showed few signs of wear. It showed in the increase of soldier stations positioned along the way and the decrease in wild animals or bandits that was a direct result of those stations. It could certainly be perceived in the increased road traffic, wagons and caravans and riders of all sorts commuting to the grand city. One could even see it in the farms they passed, all flying banners with the city’s crest atop their house in a fervent attempt to let those that passed by know they were proud of where they lived.

Of course, the most obvious way Solium announced itself was with its massive towers jutting into the sky, visible from over a day’s travel away. Legend said that the three towers had been fashioned by wizards of untold power ages back. This was true in that the wizards had fiddled with gravity enough to permit them to stand and added a few hidden dimensions inside, but, as with most things, the real work had been done by underpaid peasants who were immediately removed from the story. Glory and legend belonged to those who seized it; at least, they did in this kingdom.

By the time the shadow of the gates fell across Grumph’s brow, his party was more than ready to be done with riding and also a touch sick of seeing the damn towers on the horizon. As weary as they were, even the travel-hardened four felt their eyes bulge a bit as the gates gave way and they entered the true city of Solium.

This was not just another large town; it was an entity all its own. The whole place seemed to have been made from stone: the roads, the buildings, even some of the signs directing travelers to assorted locations. The only wooden items in sight were the stalls that ran the length of the entrance road, each housing a vendor shouting louder than the last. Various wares hung from hooks in their stalls: weapons, shields, glowing gems, bottles filled with colorful liquids clearly intended to be potions. Most travelers were road-wise enough to know that real magical items weren’t bandied about by street vendors looking to make a quick gold, but every day enough folks got swindled to keep the trade profitable for the vendors.

The other thing that amazed the adventurers from Maplebark was the amount of people packed into this city. Being from rural areas, they were accustomed to having plenty of room to move, even when in town. Here, the people skittered about, bounding through the roads with no concern for the horses or carriages bearing down on them. More than once, the adventurers would tense as an impending collision threatened to flatten a peasant, only to let out a sigh of relief as the pedestrians emerged unscathed, having darted aside at the last moment.

“Please tell me you know where we’re going,” Gabrielle said, looking over to Thistle. “I really do not want to try and navigate these streets longer than I have to.”

Thistle nodded and pointed up ahead of them. “Our missive said to report to the castle. Judging by the large shape looming in the distance, and that sign we just passed, if we stay on this road, we’ll come right up to it.”

“Now we just have to try and avoid trampling anyone along the way.” Eric jerked his horse to the side, narrowly missing a small, half-elf child who scurried between the horse’s legs.

“First of many hurdles,” Grumph replied. From the way his sharp, yellow teeth were showing, it seemed like he was either trying to threaten everyone or just make a joke. Perhaps it was both.

“All too true,” Thistle agreed. “But we’ve made it this far, and I think we should be proud of that fact. We only need to receive our task, try and survive it, and get out of this town.”

“He makes it sound so easy,” Eric said, winking at Grumph.

“Oh no, we’ll probably die in the process, but since that’s been the situation for so long now, it hardly seemed worth mentioning,” Thistle said.

His words rang true — truer than they’d been intended, likely — and the others had to admit that the constant threat of death was such a persistent companion, it almost felt like they should get it a horse. Regardless, they’d managed to get this far despite the odds. Perhaps luck would hold and see them through the final leg of their journey.

* * *

About a mile behind Thistle, Grumph, Gabrielle, and Eric, another foursome of adventurers traipsed along the road to Solium. These were far less reserved in their discussion as they rode the worn and weary horses that had been stolen from a peaceful city to the south. In fact, their voices were the loudest things audible halfway to the horizon. The other travelers gave them a wide berth; adventurers in bad moods often led to sacked caravans or beaten townsfolk.

“I can’t believe we had to run from the stupid guards,” Mitchzelin complained, kicking his horse for no reason other than to feel the impact of his heel on flesh. “We lost half our traveling gear from that crap.” He was adorned in armor made from bear and wolf hide, a single-bladed axe strapped to his back. First game be damned, he was going to play a barbarian.