Roland's Path Page 4

  “The number of moons is for Father Time to count,” Roland quoted from the holy book of Bolvii.

  “So, you don’t know,” Eldryn said more as a statement of fact than a question.

  “No, I don’t. I plan on taking as long as it takes.”

  Two young men rode up to the hitching rail in front of the jail. Their soft leather boots were silent on the hard-packed earth.

  “Hello in the jail,” Roland called.

  “Yes.”

  “Tobert, it is Roland. Father sent me to watch the jail. He said he wants you to meet him at the south pass as soon as possible.”

  “Velryk said he wanted me?” Tobert asked, a little doubtfully.

  “You are a deputy of Fordir, are you not?”

  “Yes,” Tobert’s tone was uncertain. “Yes, I am,” a bit more confident now. “Very well. You will watch the jail?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

  Tobert tightened his breastplate, hoisted his shield and checked his sword to make sure it was in its place in his scabbard. Tobert nodded to both boys as he started the short run toward the south pass.

  Roland stepped into the jail and went straight to the keys for the iron cell. As Roland moved for the cell Eldryn made himself busy gathering waterskins and extra provisions kept aside for the deputies in case of long rides with no warning.

  “Ashcliff,” Roland whispered into the dark.

  “Yes?”

  “It is Roland. Gather yourself, you are going to lead me to your friends.”

  “As you say, Roland.”

  Ashcliff moved to the door as a silent breeze. Roland unlocked and opened the iron door.

  “You won’t regret this,” Ashcliff said as he walked into the free air of the early morning.

  “If I do regret this, you will never again walk nor find pleasure with a woman. Do I make myself clear?”

  “As Lexxmar.”

  Roland looked Ashcliff over again. A spy, and he couldn’t be older than Roland himself.

  Roland went to the coin box where the fines paid and drunkard fees were kept. He had seen Velryk pay deputies from this box and he saw this as no different. Well, perhaps a little different but they were riding in the service of the Reeve. He gathered a few coins and dropped them in his purse. Roland stepped outside into the night and mounted his horse next to where Eldryn sat his.

  “No horse for me?” Ashcliff asked.

  “Point to your horse and you may take it,” Roland replied, gesturing to the empty street. Roland had placed a great deal of trust in Ashcliff, but to give a possible spy a horse? Not just yet.

  “Very well.”

  Ashcliff began to jog down the street heading west out of Fordir and the lands of Gallhallad. He ran easily as the two boys rode along behind him.

  They traveled for twenty leagues before Roland called a halt. Both Roland and Eldryn were surprised at Ashcliff’ abilities to cover distances on foot.

  “We should rest here for what is left of the night. We’ll only get a few hours of sleep before sunrise, but it should be enough to keep us going most of the day tomorrow.”

  Ashcliff began unpacking the saddlebags and Eldryn unloaded his gear. Roland watered the horses at a stream nearby and picketed them in tall grass. When he returned to the campsite Roland found a very weary Ashcliff sound asleep, and Eldryn watching him.

  “I don’t know if I trust him,” Eldryn said quietly, not taking his eyes from the sleeping figure.

  “Well, they were set to kill him the night the woman warrior and the mage escaped me. The bolt of dark energy that hit me in the chest was meant for him. I think at the least we can trust him to hate them. As in ‘Thoughts on War’, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my ally.’”

  “That’s pretty thin logic,” Eldryn replied, “even for you.”

  “It’s the only move I have, El’,” Roland said, dropping his typical tone of knight-errand and speaking as the boy’s friend instead. “I must try.”

  Eldryn nodded and rolled into his blanket.

  They all slept. Eldryn and Roland were both relieved to wake and find Ashcliff preparing a breakfast of fried pork and eggs seasoned with something unknown to the boys. A breakfast that surprised both of them due to its delicious taste.

  “How exactly do you plan to track them?” Roland asked Ashcliff.

  “I don’t exactly know how to track,” Ashcliff began, speaking quickly so as to explain himself. “Well not exactly. I’m decent at it, but tracking a teleporting wizard? I do, however, have an idea of where they will head first. We buried most of our equipment before being ambushed by the elves. I would imagine Yorketh, and Dawn will go there first. If we cannot catch them there, then I know of their destination.”

  “Now that we have the time and inclination for it,” Eldryn said, “what was your destination, and purpose?”

  “I was an apprentice and my master sent me to the great land of Lawrec, the land of Prince Ralston. I was to observe the movements of a wizard there called Daeriv. I was captured by his men and made a slave. I told them I was a lost sailor and for two years I worked in slavery for them. I let them see some of my skills over the course of time and I was eventually promoted out of slavery to be a watcher for Daeriv. He is the one that Dawn and Yorketh work for. He has nothing to do with Tarborat, although Daeriv is no less evil than those in that land. He had obtained a map that I took the opportunity to memorize. The map showed the location and pathways of a ruined city of ancient times. It was a city that was uprooted and cast into the depths of the earth during the Battles of Rending. There was rumored to be great wealth there from the days that champions and gods walked among men, and an item that Daeriv wants. I don’t know exactly what that item is. Only Yorketh and Dawn know what he seeks there,” Ashcliff said.

  These boys were strong and he had seen Roland demonstrate his sturdy constitution in the fight in the jail, but, fortunately for Ashcliff, neither was a skilled interrogator. Although even a skilled interviewer would have trouble spotting the truths left out. Most who came to question the likes of him were looking for lies present, not truth absent.

  “Wait,” Roland said. “Elves captured you?”

  “Yes,” Ashcliff replied. “We decided to remove all of our identifying items and we concealed them along the route to the ancient city. The elves came upon us during my watch. I saw them come and hoped that they might capture my companions and then I would be free. However, after catching them the elves realized that it was a camp for three and they began searching for me. I eluded them for a few days, but one does not escape an elf in his own forest. As it turns out they are not fond of trespassers in their precious wooded realm. They kept what equipment we still carried with us, and turned us over to Sanderland. He was eager for us to admit that we were spies from Tarborat. We all knew that telling the truth to man who already knows what he wants to hear will only get you tortured further, so we did not respond to his questioning. He wasn’t very skilled in that regard anyway. He decided to take us before a cleric and have our minds dissected by his ‘Holy’ ways.”

  “What is the name of this city?” Eldryn asked.

  “Nolcavanor,” Ashcliff replied, expecting disbelief and perhaps derision.

  “Nolcavanor? That was one of the old capitals. The Book of History said that it was consumed by molten rock hurled by the gods,” Eldryn said. Both boys had heard the stories of magnificent cathedrals and impenetrable castles. They had heard the tales of Lord Ivant and his friends. They had played as children pretending to be those heroes of old. Could it still stand? Could remnants of that great city remain?

  “Not totally destroyed,” Ashcliff said. “Some areas of the city were encased in lava, preserved. Daeriv does not act on whim. His information came from a fallen champion servant. He brought an artifact from the city for Daeriv to examine.”

  “This wizard, Yorketh, is he powerful?” Roland asked, trying to hide his excitement at the possibility of Nolcavanor.

 
“He can be. Without the trinkets he usually carries he is not so dangerous, but he has certain items that augment his actions and spells.”

  “And the woman, Dawn?”

  “She is a marvelously attractive woman to look at, but a deadly one to touch. She is very capable. It is said that she has a sister even more beautiful, but I find it hard to believe she even had a mother, much less a sibling.”

  “How far ahead can they be?” Roland asked.

  “Yorketh, as I said, has his limits. His ability to travel by magic has a number of parameters. He must know his destination well. To attempt to travel to a place he has never been before would most likely be disastrous. He is also limited by distance and the expended energy traveling like that requires. They shouldn’t be too far ahead, I think. Given the distance to Nolcavanor, we have time to cut their lead significantly.”

  “We have your word to be loyal to our cause until they are secured or dead?” Eldryn asked.

  “If you do me the honor of accepting my word as a binding oath, then I give it with gratitude,” Ashcliff said smiling.

  “I don’t know if I like your answer,” Roland said.

  “Then let us speak plainly. My word is worth nothing for I deal in lies. However, I want them dead or captured as much as you. I owe you my freedom. You spared me from torture and worse. I owe you that much and I always pay my debts. I also want to find that city.”

  “Nolcavanor?” Both boys asked again, as if trying to confirm their wildest dreams might be at the end of their chase. Dare they believe?

  “Yes, I have it all here,” Ashcliff said as he pointed to his head clad in sandy brown hair.

  “What of your master? What exactly are you an apprentice of anyway?” Eldryn asked unintentionally leaning forward a bit, chasing childhood dreams from his mind.

  “I have been honest with you thus far,” Ashcliff said, in a different, more quiet tone. “I do not want to be forced to lie to you this early in our partnership.”

  “Fair enough,” Roland said. “Your business is your own. But do not forget, friend, that you do owe us for the freedom you enjoy now.”

  “I will not forget. The Shanks does not leave debts unpaid,” Ashcliff said with a confidence he did not feel.

  “What is this business of ‘The Shanks?’” Roland asked.

  “In my line of work, it is best to be known, but not known. It is a name that will one day be whispered in alleys and dark corners of taverns with fear. It is a name that someday will command a good deal of coin for services rendered,” Ashcliff said, “and great respect.”

  “What is a ‘Shanks?’” Eldryn asked.

  “I know what a shank is,” Roland said. “It’s a type of weapon sometimes made by those jailed. They take a nail, a piece of crockery or dish and sharpen it. Father showed me some that he’s collected over the years when I started taking on duties in the jail.”

  “Just so,” Ashcliff said. “In my case it is a nickname that resulted from my first notable act on the street. The first man I killed. In most cities those of my ilk aren’t allowed weapons and, to be fair, I was also a child at the time. By stature at least. It would have garnered all of the wrong type of attention if I should have walked those alleys and pathways with a dagger on my side. So, I taught myself to make shanks. I had several made out of nails and a couple I made out of the broken handles of clay cups. The main reason for them was to keep the larger boys and girls from taking whatever food I had been able to find. There was a man in those times that had the idea that most of what us kids took belonged to him. He called it taxes for his protection. Lord of the Pups is what they called him. He had a habit of beating us on occasion as well. One afternoon he was shaking me down for what I had stolen that day. I had attempted to hide a silver chain from him. He said it was the last time I would hide anything from him and began to beat me fiercely. I had taken beatings before but it was clear to me that he meant it to be my last. Therefore, I had a choice to make. The beating would either be my last or his. I took a sharpened piece of cup, made for just such work, and sliced the insides of his legs where the blood flows the heaviest. You may not know this, but that part of the leg, the thigh, is also called a shank. As I was saying, I sliced his legs and drew the blood I was hoping for. The Lord of the Pups bled to death at my feet. After that the bigger kids left me alone and the others started calling me ‘Shanks.’”

  Roland and Eldryn were quiet then for a time. Both chewed over Ashcliff’ tail as it in turn wore away their innocence. Ashcliff, who might be their age but likely a few years younger, had killed a man. Had killed more than one actually. They had known of killers and thieves, but not of such abuses of children.

  Eldryn began to wonder how dark the world around him might really be. He had known of wars and strife, of course. He had known that sometimes fathers don’t come home to their sons. But to hear of such things being told in a matter of fact tone wounded him. It hurt him to think of children stealing food to eat, or being extorted by the likes of The Lord of Pups. It hurt him that it was accepted.

  “How could the guard of any city allow such things to go on?” Roland asked finally breaking the silence.

  “There are many orphans,” Ashcliff said. “The wars have created their share but there are many from happenstance and just plain bad luck. Those orphans are left to make their own way if they don’t have family. Most fall to stealing food from merchants or scrounging what they can from the trash behind taverns. Some make it to adulthood, like me. Most don’t.”

  “The guard,” Ashcliff continued, “do what they can. Most mean well I suppose. But the care of the taxpayer must be seen to first. Those on the bottom must look out for themselves.”

  “Could they have reached their buried equipment by now?” Eldryn asked attempting to change the subject. This new view of the world did not set well with him, and he would just as soon not be reminded of it.

  “I seriously doubt it,” Ashcliff responded. Perhaps glad of the change of subject as well. “However, I would say that it is likely that they will arrive there before we do. Yorketh, however, requires a great deal of rest after exerting himself. If they beat us to the burial site, then we should be able to track them on land from there. I know the general direction they will be traveling in, and that will make tracking them much easier.”

  “Well then, we waste time by talking,” Roland said. “Ashcliff, you will take my horse for the first two hours while I run. Then you will switch to Eldryn’s horse for two hours while he runs. Then you will run for as long as you wish.”

  “He rides?” Eldryn asked, incredulous at the idea of a sneak riding his horse.

  “We need our exercise anyway. It will keep us all sharp, without tiring anyone more than necessary. We will be traveling in the wild and it would be good for us all to be in the best shape possible. Furthermore, the horses will fare better as well not having to carry riders of our size all day. Ashcliff’ light frame should give them the break they need.”

  “As you say,” Eldryn replied, resigned. This was Roland’s quest, and therefore his decision to make. If they succeeded it would be Roland’s triumph. If they failed it would be Roland’s fault. Eldryn didn’t consciously think this, but it was more just the pattern of thought his mind had traveled in since early childhood. In truth, even if this whole thing was Eldryn’s idea, he would gladly let Roland make the calls.

  The three packed their few belongings and began on their journey west. While Roland ran they covered ground quickly. Roland was quick for a man of his size, and his stride allowed him to run almost as fast as some horses.

  “Why do we travel west when Sanderland said he captured you to the north east?” Roland asked.

  Ashcliff made a mental note to himself that although running at a moderate pace, this Roland’s wind came to him easily as they talked. He would do well to remember this fellow’s deep well of endurance.

  “First I would remind you that Sir Sanderland did not capture us,” Ashcliff
replied. “Second, he took us from the elves in the west. I can only assume, but I would guess that anyone attempting to back track him and verify his story would come up empty handed by traveling north east.”

  “’Believe none of what you hear, and only some of what you see,’” Roland quoted.

  “Yes,” Ashcliff said with a look of appreciation. “You are more wise than you look, Roland.”

  “It is borrowed wisdom. It’s from the book ‘Thoughts on War.’ It is a book I was reading.”

  “A warrior that can read?” Ashcliff said. “Will wonders never cease?”

  Roland’s anger built immediately, and then fled when he saw the smile on Ashcliff’s face. He was embarrassed to have shown the traits he so despised in Sanderland and some of the others of his ilk.

  “El, you are right,” Roland said. “I take myself too seriously.”

  Several leagues and lands away to the southeast a lone rider approached a stone house and barn. Velryk rode to the barn, unsaddled his horse, and forked some hay in the stall. Velryk saw smoke rising from the kitchen chimney of the simple dwelling. He approached the house and knocked three times on the aged wood door. A beautiful woman appearing in her late thirties opened the door. Her hair and eyes were the faded version of the shades reflected in her son.

  “I was wondering when you would come,” Shaylee said.

  “I had some things to take care of involving the church,” Velryk replied.

  “I assumed so. I suppose you know that Eldryn went with him. He left this note.”

  Velryk took the note and read it.

  Mother,

  I haven’t much time. I am leaving with Roland, as you have always known I would. I am sorry not to say this in person but time is against us. I will send word when I can. I will make my father’s spirit proud.

  I love you,

  El

  Velryk looked up from the note into Shaylee’s tear rimmed eyes. Her lips trembled with fear for her son, but she was the definition of the Great Women. Shaylee was strong, healthy, reserved, and rarely lost control. Ellidik had been a lucky man.