The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (12 page)

Maluss had arrived a few short moments ago.  He still smelled of charon sweat and was covered with the dust of the road.  His riding cloak was filthy and still damp from the short rain through which he’d ridden.  He had arrived at the entry to Archer’s Gate late in the evening.  He’d presented himself to the Captain of the Watch and showed him the pewter medallion which justified the waking of the king.  Maluss was an official envoy from the court of King Tyner.  He had been offered food and drink while the king and other dignitaries were summoned and gathered in a hall on the ground floor. 

On the prior morning, well before sunrise, Maluss had quietly exited the stronghold of Aspell by being lowered from the walls on a rope.  He’d elected to go out on the sea side of the castle since he figured that would be the side least likely to be watched.  He had successfully picked his way through the treacherous cliffs on that side and had arrived several leagues away from the city.  He had then jogged up from the beach area onto a flat piece of land that led into a dense forest.  After proceeding into the forest until the sun was rising he found a small farm.  He pounded on the door until the occupants arose and told them of the situation in the harbor.  He was given one of the excellent charon in the corral and sped off on his mission.

As he rode hard, his mind went to his close friend, Wyn, who should be heading in the opposite direction.  Wyn and Matuss were lifelong friends, and both taught the art of riding the charon to warriors in service to Aspell.  They had purposely chosen different points of exit from the castle stronghold in order to minimize the chances of both being caught.  Matuss was to make contact with Archer’s Gate while Wyn was to do the same in Northland.

Now he was ushered into the room full of Archer’s Gate dignitaries.  He stood at attention even though he was entirely spent after a day of riding, having changed charon twice at different settlements along the way.  King Pryus had come in shortly after Matuss and saw the dirty and exhausted messenger trying mightily to maintain a military posture.

“By the Stars, man, sit!” he commanded.  The king gave a brief look over his shoulder at the gathered members of Parliament who should have insisted that the young man not be bound by ceremony.  He ordered more water and a flask of sween be made available.  The man gulped more water and sipped at the sween.  Finally, refreshed by the drink, he tried to stand again.  “Stay sat, Warrior, that is an order,” Pryus commanded.  “Now tell us why King Tyner has sent us the pewter medallion.  I’m certain you are aware that such a signal is only to be used in the gravest of conditions.”

Matuss delivered his message word by word exactly as he had memorized it.  The eyes of the king widened as the story was revealed.  When he was finished, King Pryon signaled to two attending warriors.  “Take this man to one of my chambers and get him a bed.  Don’t let anyone waken him unless it is by my order.”  He turned back to the messenger.  “We are in your debt, Good Warrior, we will speak again when you are rested.”

***

Wyn slithered down another rope on the north side of the castle walls.  Landing silently, he watched the rope being pulled quietly upward.  He listened for a long time before moving and heard only the sounds of the sea.  Still wrapped in darkness, he carefully approached the pirate campsites.  He watched for signs of movement but saw none.  There were numerous fire pits. All of them burned low and were giving off very little light.  Steeling himself, he drew a deep breath and stepped forward, trying to appear as if he were a part of the pirate throng.  He’d changed from his uniform into a mixture of clothing that closely resembled that worn by the enemy.  He had on tough canvas trousers and a sleeveless shirt bound together by a loose sash at his waist.  He carried a dagger and a shortsword at the waist.  Wyn was a short man, even by the standards of his people, but he was uncommonly strong.  It took real strength to deal with the mighty charon and show them who was boss.  In all of his twenty four summers Wyn had only been thrown twice.

He stepped casually through the campsites, nodding wordlessly at the few sentries.  He looked relaxed on the outside which was considerably different than he was feeling on the inside.  His life was on the line here, but such were the requirements of duty.

He was almost entirely free of the more densely packed areas when he saw a man standing in the shadows that lead back into wooded section near the beach.  The man had his sword in one hand and a jug in the other.  Since he could not avoid the sentry without raising concern, he stepped up in front of him.

“Pretty quiet so far, eh?” he asked the other in whispered tones.

The sentry was older than Wyn by ten summers at least.  His hair was going white, and he had a fat, bulbous nose, probably the result of overindulgence of the spirits.  He ignored Wyn’s question, and closed one eye so that he could examine Wyn with the better one.

“Aye, quiet,” he said finally.  “Where would you be off to?”

Wyn faked a yawn and scratched a non-existent itch.  “Have to throw water,” he answered.

The sentry was unable to stop the answering yawn that Wyn’s had caused.  When he was done he stepped forward to get so close that Wyn could smell the man’s sour breath.  When he opened his mouth to speak again, Wyn saw several missing teeth.  “Throw water?  You mean take a piss?”

Wyn realized he’d made a mistake.  He should have realized that such men would use crude language.  There was nothing to do for it now.  The now-suspicious sentry, being bigger and heavier, got within grabbing distance because he thought those attributes would assist him if the encounter devolved into a struggle.  He was incorrect.  The bulk that was generated by many summers of too much food and spirit exacerbated by too little exercise was no match for the wiry muscularity borne of constant effort and a warrior’s diet.

The sentry was barely able to manage a small squeaking sound as Wyn knocked the sword from his hand and swept around his back to put him in a choking hold with his neck held vice-like in the bend of his arm.  The man squirmed and struggled and tried to reach the dagger thrust into his waist sash, but Wyn had that weapon trapped by the pressure of his own hip against the pirate’s.  After a moment, the sentry stopped struggling and slumped down.  Wyn wasn’t buying it, and the pirate started struggling again, though this time with more desperation.  Wyn held on and squeezed even harder, reminding himself that this man was here to kill his people.  Eventually, the struggles waned and stopped again.  Wyn finally felt safe enough to release him.  He fell limp and did not move.  The young warrior knelt low over his face and listened until he had satisfied himself that the pirate sentry was not breathing.  He took the remaining skin of strong spirits and poured it into the man’s slackly open mouth, splashing a bit on his clothing.  He hoped it would be assumed that the man had drunk too much and then expired from a heart malady.  It was a thin hope, but it really made little difference what his fellow pirates would think.  Wyn experienced no further problems during his escape from Aspell.  The morning sun found him also on the back of a donated charon, thundering toward Northland.

***

The moment Maluss was escorted to one of the king’s many bedrooms to get some much-needed rest King Pryus gave instructions to his King’s Sword to set into motion a plan that the four kingdoms had long ago devised.  A total of ten riders clattered across the lowered bridges of Archer’s gate. 

The first three messengers headed off to the north.  On the chance that Wyn had been intercepted, these warriors were tasked with making certain that news of the invasion was delivered to Northland. The heralds were assigned different stopping points along the way. 

Each kingdom had established numerous outposts along various routes to the different kingdoms.  These garrisons were supplied with fresh charon and expert riders.  The three couriers were sent along different routes in order to improve the chances that at least one would get through to their intended destination.  Upon arrival at an outpost a rider would handoff a messenger bag to a fresh rider and charon who would then set off on his or her way to the next post and so on until the news was delivered.

The same arrangement involving more riders, more charon and longer rest periods were staged along the longer routes to Olvion.  This arrangement served to open up a means of fast communication between the kingdoms

The first rider from Archer’s Gate was just arriving in Olvion when Taggart and Toria were having their first glimpse of the city.

***

Taggart stood on the top of the bluffs that led down to the enormous City-Kingdom of Olvion.  In the distance loomed his adopted home and the place where he hoped to find his Dwan.  The city always tended to inspire awe in him.  It was enormous in size with the entire city encircled by a high, three leveled wall.  It took thousands of warriors to adequately patrol the walls each day.  The city twinkled with light from hundreds of thousands of glow bulbs affixed to strings along the main city streets and peeking out from behind shutters and windows.

Toria was also transfixed by the sight.

“It’s so beautiful,” she cooed.  “I’ve never seen it at night from a distance.  We arrived here by day and left by day.”

Taggart nodded.  “Yes it is Lady Toria.”  He had discovered that the use of the title delighted her even though they both well knew she did not hold a position which merited the title.

Geraar and Isahn brought their horses up from behind them.  The quartet had been furnished charon for this last part of their trip.  The two active military warriors were scheduled to return with the four animals anyway and had previously planned on riding one while leading the other.  The addition of the other two travelers heading the same way was a happy coincidence, which made the trip easier for all concerned.  The largest of the charon had, of course, been given to Taggart, and the proud animal had done a phenomenal job of transporting the huge ex-warrior despite his weight.

Taggart remembered the first time he’d sat on these bluffs on the back of a charon.  More than six months had passed, earth time, and it was the first he’d seen of the huge encircling walls and the castle stronghold that was built into the eastern face of the wall.  The castle rose up to a pinnacle marked by a tower with a large section of glass observation windows.  The location of the city and the defensive stronghold was decided upon centuries earlier.  The people who’d made that decision placed it directly in the middle of two mountain ranges; the Kneeling Warrior range in the south and the Hounds Teeth in the north.  The flat stretch of land beyond was named the “Lion’s Road”, and it continued on behind the city until it touched the Western Sea.  With the topography surrounding the city kingdom, any invading force of Greys that wished to attack the human kingdoms on the coast had to first fight their way through Olvion. 

Some enemy might be successful in simply trying to bypass the stronghold on either side, but that would leave their rear flank open to attack.  No military commander worth his sween would attempt such an action.  That was why Olvion was offered military support in the form of weapons, food and, most importantly, warriors.  If the mighty city kingdom of Olvion fell, then the remaining smaller kingdoms of Aspell, Archer’s Gate and Northland would certainly fall.

Unfortunately, the centuries of a semi-peace lulled the Coastal Kingdoms into slowly, over the years, withdrawing their warriors in an effort to increase their treasuries.  When the inevitable invasion came, the proud kingdom of Olvion stood up with only a few thousand supporting warriors.  Then, their call for reinforcements from the other kingdoms had gone unheeded by the politicians there until it had almost been too late.  As Tag sat there now looking down at his adopted home, he wondered how many thousands of Olvionis died unnecessarily because of the dithering of the Coastal Kingdoms.

“Did you hear me Tag?”

Taggart was pulled from his musings by the sound of Toria’s voice.  “I apologize Lady Toria, what did you ask?”

The girl was repeatedly bouncing up and down in her stirrups as her poor charon tried to figure out what signals he was being given.  “I said why are we sitting here?  I want to see my cousin.”

Taggart smiled for the hundredth time at the energy of the young woman.  He nodded his head in the direction of the city and gave a light kick to the sides of his charon.  They were almost home.

Tinker walked slowly back to her nest.  The wind died as she descended to the place where the tribe’s village was located.  The temperature grew a trifle warmer also.  As she walked, she enjoyed the view of the valleys below her.  She had always been pleased at the incredible varieties of color in her world.  The sun was still high in the pinkish sky and the brisk air was uplifting to her spirit. 

She was troubled... and excited.  Earlier, she had detected the mindscent of her human which meant he was back in this world again.  She had also detected stirrings from the female, Dwan.  They were so faint that they were almost non-existent, but she had been well trained by her mother, Aleen.  She knew how to patiently sort through the onslaught of emotions and images until she connected with the one she was seeking.

The reason she was troubled was because she was no longer free to follow her heart as she had been when first tasked by the Awareness.  Her actions no longer affected just her.  When she first arrived back in her village she was heartsick for her human.  She was also being pulled by an instinct that all females her age felt.

So Tinker had taken a mate.  Like all Mountain Children her commitment, once made, was for life.  Even if she wanted to, she could not go off in search of the man Tag-Gar.  Her duty was now to her tribe and her mate.

He was a summer older than she and still had no name.  She was sad for him.  When they were together, and she had to refer to him she used the name “Mate”.  The name was not expressed in words but in the non-verbal language of her kind. 

Mate was from another village which was very far away.  Tinker had seen him approaching from a great distance away and could tell he was heading toward her village.  She was intrigued because he was a White and seemed to be large for their kind.  When he drew close enough much later in the early evening she had greeted him and offered him shelter with her mother and her other littermates.  There were only three other littermates still in Aleen’s nest.  The others had mated and now had their own nests.

On that first day Mate told her of his shame of not being tasked by the Awareness despite his age.  He had finally left his own village to save the embarrassment to his littermates.  Tinker had been moved by his plight and attracted to his sensitivity.  She accepted him as her mate, and they had lived in their own nest for a full season, making Tinker’s village the only one in her recollection that could boast of three white Mountain Children.  At first, Mate had taken solace in her constant assurances that the Awareness would call him only when his time had come.  She soothed him by saying the task that was being formed for him must assuredly be one of great importance, and that was why it was slow in coming.

As time passed, his spirit waned.  He felt embarrassment when the remarkable tasking of Tinker was discussed in his presence.  Finally, he had taken to climbing into the icy heights and simply sitting there quietly as if he could draw a tasking by sheer force of will.  He rarely came back down before the sun sat on the horizon.

When she reached their nest after receiving the images of the humans, she was not surprised to find Mate was not there.  She exited the burrow and headed toward her mother’s nest.  When she saw Aleen outside of her den she sent her an image of Mate and an emotion of inquiry.  In return, she received an image of him climbing up the peak to his favorite perch.  She projected gratitude and returned to her burrow.

The sun reached the horizon and began to sink.  Tinker poked her head out of their den several times, each time taking one glance at the sun and another at the path from which she knew he would descend.

When darkness claimed the skies, she came out and found a rocky projection from which she could watch for him while having the wind blocked.  Even his bright white fur would be difficult to discern in the stark shadows of the mountain.  She leaned her back against the vertical rock and began her vigil.  She had heard tell of Whites not being tasked and walking off into the heights, never to be heard from again.  She doubted the stories.  Her kind were too courageous, it was part of what made them what they were.  She had sensed Mate’s courage under his despair.  It was part of the reason why she had mated to him.  So she wasn’t worried about Mate disappearing.  Not yet.  What had her worried was the fact that she was honor bound to assist him with his task when it came.

Not all tasks were grand and heroic like hers had been.  Indeed, most were very small, but all were important in maintaining the health and balance of the planet.  The Awareness chose what was needed.  Tinker tried to think what Mate would say if she tried to have him follow her to find Tag.  Her human must sorely need her or the mindscent would not have been carried over such a distance.  Tinker knew she had to be considerate of her mate.  The situation had the potential to increase Mate’s shame.  How could she ask him to come with her on a second task before he had even received his first?

The wind was increasing as it grew late and she snuggled back into the rock.  She concentrated on slowing her breathing and diminishing her senses.  Her body entered a trance-like state.  She no longer felt the blowing wind or the chill from the snow and ice.  Everything had been shut down except for her sense of sight.  Her eyes did not appear to move, but they saw everything.  Only if she were to see Mate coming back down in the darkness would her eyes signal her brain to take notice. 

When the sun finally peeked over the eastern horizon the following morning, Tinker had still not moved.  Any human that happened by her would have thought her frozen to death.  Her beautiful white fur was draped with blown snow and tiny icicles and her thick tail, which usually was in constant motion was now still and wrapped around her body.  Her brain registered the rising of the sun.  A few minutes later, the first direct rays crawled over the icy ground and reached her.  The snow and ice on her fur began to melt away.  Still she did not move.  Aleen came out of her nest and looked up at the peak.  She then turned and saw her daughter.  She started to send an image message to her but realized what was happening.  Tinker would not be moved or communicated with until Mate reappeared.  Aleen had stood a similar vigil several summers past.  Her mate had failed to return to their nest, and she’d watched for him through three frigid nights before others found his frozen body.  He’d been caught in a rock and snow slide.

The sun was fully overhead and all of the ice and blown snow was gone before her brain woke up.  Halfway down the peak, she could see just a hint of shadow on the snow.  The shadow moved and crawled its way downward.  It took until the sun was beginning another dive toward the horizon before he dropped the final few feet onto the level ground of the village.  He picked his head up and swiveled it around until he saw her.  She was gladdened to see that he knew she would be waiting.  He bent over and used his hands to scamper quickly over the cold ground.  He stopped in front of her and excitedly projected emotions and images.  Tinker sat and stared back at him.  Her heart almost stopped.

He had been tasked.

She was conflicted.  She sent waves of happiness for him to receive, but she couldn’t submerge her own pain.  Instead she sent the inquiry signal.  He replied with images, which she read like words.  He had been tasked to journey to the lowlands to locate the mindscent of a woman.  Tinker’s help would be needed for the tasking.  Her heart fell again.  Then he projected to her that he would be bonding with a human female that would play a necessary part in establishing a more lasting peace in the world.  The best part he saved for the end.  The woman he would be aiding was somehow connected to her human.

Tinker grew excited.  She inquired again and sent him an image of Dwan, the woman that Taggart would certainly be seeking.  He responded with the negative pulse.  Then he launched another image.  It was of a young girl on the edge of womanhood.  She had a strong body and a head of wild brown hair.  Her face was attractive by human standards.  Tinker recognized her immediately.  It was the young woman with whom Tag was traveling.