The Faerion (8 page)

"Yeates wouldn't knight me."

"He was not a stupid man, whatever his faults. What does Treteste see in you? You are stupid with only a marginal understanding of warfare. There are times when I am not sure if you will injure yourself with your own sword. I fear for your squire's safety."

Crestan sputtered in anger, yet controlled himself to avoid attacking Kirkes which would only end in Crestan' death.

The others were careful not to laugh, knowing Crestan' temper. Crestan was a burly man, red-faced and violent. He had killed two men in unprovoked rage last month. Crestan was not an even match for Kirkes but the others needed to look to their lives. Crestan always released his temper in some way and if the gold and black knight would chop him into pieces in return then Crestan must look elsewhere for satisfaction. No one wanted to provide Crestan an easy target.

The day became long, riding under the sun in their armor. Crestan was muttering under his breath, scowling at Kirkes, who rode as if nothing disturbed him.

They had set out early that morning from the castle at Stormridge. Soldiers discovered that the sorceress Wynne had escaped sometime during the night. A guard recalled a woman matching her description passed by a group of soldiers who had been drinking. They tried to force her to join them but she escaped. The soldiers couldn't recall how she got away. The enraged Baron beheaded each man involved.

After a time, Kirkes approached the Baron and requested the opportunity to scour the countryside for the sorceress. The Baron had agreed at once but did not let Kirkes chose any companion other than his squire. Kirkes felt stung when his rival, Sir Crestan, had been chosen along with two of Crestan' most trusted vassals. Kirkes wondered at Treteste's motives. Had the king, he was king now in reality, lost his trust in Kirkes? Had the king finally listened to the gossip about Kirkes and Baroness, now Queen, Richela?

Kirkes felt a fear growing inside, a fear for Richela. Who could stop Treteste from doing what he wanted now? Perhaps he had been biding his time until he was king, waiting until he would not be denied in punishing those who angered or insulted him.

He looked over at Crestan, a knight lacking in virtue. Kirkes tried to deny him knighthood but the Baron interfered and Crestan became a knight. That was the first indication that the Baron did not fully support Kirkes any longer. Kirkes did not ask Treteste for an explanation to forestall the moment when his relationship with the Queen becomes an issue. He thought it better to let it simmer, dodging its undercurrents when they became too unbearable.

The trail was cold, but Kirkes could follow it, winding upward to the mountain passes. The trees grew thick as the trail disappeared behind a wall of green, flecked with white at the higher elevations. Each man gritted his teeth at the impending thought of snow. Perhaps they would capture the sorceress before she could reach Paglo or whatever haven she sought.

"The blood has grown less," said Kirkes. "Apparently the wound was not as grievous as the King hoped."

"She cannot escape us," said Crestan. "The King has laid that charge upon us."

"I agree. She may be able to put up more resistance than I initially expected."

"She turned coward at the castle," said Watty. "She ran from us. Yeates was screaming at her to use her magic, but she fled. I don't think she will trouble us much."

"No, she won't," agreed Crestan. "She's not much of a sorceress. The rumors about her must be true."

"At the castle she had a means of escape," said Kirkes. "If we trap her, she will have to fight. Keep that in mind. A desperate sorceress could be formidable."

"If you are not up to it, I shall do your work for you," said Crestan, sneering. "I'm capable of killing a woman if you are not."

"Yes, I believe you have a particular knack for it. It is unfortunate that personal gain is your sole driving force, Crestan. You might have grown to exhibit the virtues to earn your knighthood." He looked intently at Crestan. "On second thought, I take those words back. You are and will always remain a cockroach."

Steel whined as Crestan drew his sword.

"Sir Crestan!" cried Holder and Birate together.

"Have a care," said Birate. "Remember the King is counting on you to capture the sorceress."

"Yes, of course." He sheathed his sword, breathing hard. "How careless of me. I must do the King's work." He glared at Kirkes who had dismissed the incident already, looking for the trail of the sorceress.

Kirkes led them higher up the pass. Snow was in the air, causing Crestan to spew curses between breaths. The trail rose higher, winding back and forth through the trees. Suddenly, Kirkes left the trail, entering the thicker woods heading back down toward the valley beyond.

"All be praised," said Watty. "I glad she had some sense."

"She is definite heading for the Tuors," said Kirkes. "Watty, you return to King Treteste with word. We'll want more soldiers."

"For these pixies! Kirkes, you alone could trash all the Tuors," said Crestan. "Together no one can withstand us. Even I doubt that you are a coward."

"You either overestimate our abilities, or underestimate the Tuors, I can't say which. However, your conclusions may cost us our lives."

"Bah! I should ride in alone and bring her back myself."

Kirkes shook his head, gesturing with his hand for Crestan to lead them. Crestan moved directly to the front; Kirkes and Rocodt waiting to bring up the rear. Watty looked at Kirkes who motioned for him to follow Crestan.

The grasses gave way to rockier ground. The horses picked their way slowly through the large rocks covering the trail.

"Why are there so many rocks?" asked Watty.

"Troll country," said Kirkes. "Those are pieces of larger rocks broken against the ground. They were thrown by Trolls."

"Thrown? At travelers?"

"That's how they catch their meals."

"I'm not going to be a meal," said Crestan.

"Good thing," said Kirkes. "You'd make a Troll sick."

"I know what you are doing!" cried Crestan. "And it won't work. I won't fall for your schemes!"

Kirkes merely looked at Crestan until the latter turned back to the trail, picking up the pace. Kirkes and Rocodt stayed back, not wishing to injure their mounts.

"By your remarks regarding other races, Crestan," said Kirkes. "I would guess that you were a member of the Brotherhood of the Rose."

"I am a knight! I do not hold with Daass' practices. Can you open your mouth without insulting me?"

"Perhaps. But it remains that you do Daass' work for him. And the Brotherhood has their own knights. You would fit in well with those inadequate knights."

Crestan did not respond, mulling Kirkes' words over.

"A knight must take responsibility for all results of his actions. Remember that, Crestan. Daass appreciates your efforts. You forward the aims of the Brotherhood."

"Bah! I will deal with Daass and his Brotherhood of the Rose when King Treteste takes residence in the castle at Nantitet. I have long felt Daass oversteps his authority with regularity. His followers worship openly, rejecting all manner of royal decisions; setting themselves up outside the law. It's criminal."

"I agree with you, Crestan. However, Daass has spent nearly forty years building his power base. He has influence in unlikely places. Worst of all, his eyes and ears could be anywhere. Even Treteste does not have the spy system of the Brotherhood of the Rose."

"Yes, I would suspect you have a special dislike for Daass. Especially with your activities. I'm sure Daass would take special delight in vilifying you."

"What do you mean by that?" Kirkes's voice rumbled low and hard. Crestan chuckled; glad to have finally gotten under Kirkes's skin.

"Nothing. I'm sure you have nothing to hide."

Crestan rode slightly faster, still grinning. Kirkes exhaled slowly, riding an even pace downward after his companions.

Kirkes saw the Trolls before the others and rode forward with a shout. Crestan soon followed. Three Trolls waited for them at the bottom of a ravine. Watty and Holder crouched behind a rock with the squires.

"We can't fight Trolls!" cried Holder.

"Let's retreat," said Rocodt.

"Good idea," said Watty. They ran while the knights held off the Trolls.

A huge club dented Crestan's side, nearly toppling him. Kirkes's lance broke against the tough Troll hide. The Trolls grinned. The knight drew his sword, dancing out of the reach of the lumbering creatures, striking at the tendons behind the Troll's knees. The Troll danced out of the way with surprising speed. Kirkes struck again, hitting only air. Then he faked a blow, striking from the opposite side. The Troll could not change direction quick enough and Kirkes' blade found sinew. The creature screamed, slumping to the ground. Crestan had seen Kirkes's maneuver and tried to emulate it. The Trolls, not as dumb as expected, backed away, finally turning to run. Watty shouted in victory.

"Wait," said Kirkes. "They will be back."

"We beat them," said Watty.

"Ride down the ravine quickly. We might be past them before they attack again."

"Surely you can do your trick again," gasped Crestan, holding his side.

"Trolls may seem slow and stupid, but don't bet your life upon it. They will be back and with more Trolls. If we do not clear the ravine before then, we best turn back."

"We can't do that!" cried Crestan.

"Agreed. Now move!" shouted Kirkes.

They spurred their horses to a quick pace down the rough trail. Their eyes searched the hills while Kirkes concentrated on their route. He held his sword ready. His horse snorted, sensing his tenseness.

They had ridden a hundred yards when the horses shied, suddenly.

Trolls rose up on all sides, screaming and waving their clubs. One hurled a huge spear, gazing Holder and ramming him into the earth. Howls of laughter deafened them. Kirkes charged; his sword held high. The Trolls scattered into the shelter of the trees. Rocks hailed down on his armor, driving him off. He circled back, attacking from the rear. Crestan tried to defend himself against two Trolls who surrounded him, snatching at him when he turned to the other one. Watty and Holder ran into the woods. Birate and Rocodt found safety behind a three. Five Trolls now confronted them. When Crestan realized they moved to the same side; he veered off to the opposite side while calling to the others to follow. The Trolls gaped at the rapid turn allowing Kirkes his chance to disengage.

Crestan led them downward, against the protests of Kirkes. The path would lead them into Paglo. They had no idea of what may be down there. The trees remained thick and green. All they could see of Paglo was forest.

"Wait! We cannot charge into this land. We are armed and likely to be viewed as hostile," said Kirkes.

"I'll take my chances," said Watty. "Troll stew is not where I want to be."

"I agree," said Crestan. "In fact, I believe I shall assume command of this expedition."

Kirkes, nodding his head, turned away.

"You may command Watty and Holder, but I am not servant to a lesser vassal." Kirkes disappeared into the trees with Rocodt following close behind. Suddenly, there was a howl back up the slope, not far from them.

"Trolls!" cried Holder. "Here they come again!"

Crestan led them down the slope, dodging trees into Paglo. Kirkes watched the huge shapes follow the knights into the land of the Tuors.

They rushed into a clearing, the Trolls still in pursuit. Suddenly, arrows rained upon them killing Holder and wounding Birate. Crestan and Watty dove behind tree trunks, listening, but there was no sound except for Birate's moans.

"Look, Sir Crestan," said Watty, holding up one of the arrows. "Some kind of jewel for a tip."

"Similar to diamond," said Crestan, calculating in his mind. "How many of these do you think we can recover?"

The Trolls lay still; three large shapes not far behind Crestan. His eyes strained to see the distant Trolls fade back into the mountains.

"The Trolls seem to have retreated. Now, let's see about gathering these pixie arrows."

More arrows struck the tree above their head. Crestan held a finger to his mouth. A voice rose out of the trees.

"We will not hurt you. Turn back. You are not welcome here. This is Tuor land."

"We mean no disrespect," shouted Crestan. "We are traveling and ran afoul of the Trolls."

"You are a knight. Are you on a quest?"

Crestan tried to pinpoint the direction the voice came from but the bunched trees proved too thick, distorting sound.

"Yes."

"What quest brings you this close to Paglo? Whose vassal are you?"

"I am Sir Crestan. I am a vassal of the king."

"Ah, King Treteste, you mean? We do hear somewhat of the outside world. Hear me, Sir Crestan. By the power invested in me by King Ian of Paglo, I deny you haven in Paglo. Leave the area immediately."

Crestan jumped to his feet, ready to charge the diminutive figure, wherever it might be. An arrow pierced his wrist; his sword dropped to the ground. Crestan shouted in pain.

"The next arrow will claim your life. Be gone!"

Watty led the cursing Crestan back up the slope into the trees. "At least you got another arrow tip."

"Shut up!"

They could feel the eyes of the Tuors upon them. The silent forest listened as Birate fell in behind them. It was a slow ride back to Stormridge. Kirkes and Rocodt watched their comrades.

"What do you make of that?" asked Rocodt.

"Only one or two Tuors," said Kirkes. "Fine shots. This Border Guard of Paglo is quite adept at keeping unwelcome visitors out. But I'm afraid Treteste would not be cowed so easily. Paglo would fall."

"Would he attack them, if Wynne had already passed through?"

"If they had helped her in any way. And from my limited knowledge of Tuors, I believe they would have helped her."

"Why crush them? Wouldn't they be a valuable ally with their skills?"

"Rocodt, you ask too many questions for a squire. I am merely a knight and my knowledge is limited, as is my patience. No more questions. Let's ride. I want to return to King Treteste before Crestan. I think my account of the hunt for Wynne would be more accurate. I would hate for the king to hear falsehoods."