Soaked with sweat, arm feeling like a lump of lead that threatened to cease functioning at any time, Jaikus raised his foil barely in time to avoid a nasty welt across his chest. But he had little time to enjoy his victory as a lightning fast thrust penetrated his guard and scraped along the leftmost side of his ribcage.
“Tired?” Master Swordsman Leari chided with a grin.
Gritting his teeth, Jaikus shook his head. “No!”
“Ha!”
His once flaming red hair now streaked with gray and tied in a ponytail that extended midway down his back, one-eyed Master Leari launched into a series of attacks. For the last two weeks, he had drilled Jaikus and Reneeke in the basic swordsmanship they would need to survive. Those two weeks were gifted to all new members deemed unskilled as the Guild desired its members to comport themselves honorably, and skillfully; at least to a point.
Today was the last they would have to endure the epithets and painful instruction administered by Master Leari. Earlier, Jaikus had watched Reneeke face their instructor during his final sparring match, and enjoyed a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn’t he fight as well as Reneeke? They both had received the same instruction, same equipment, everything! Yet Reneeke looked as if he had fenced his whole life while Jaikus still struggled merely to avoid the easiest of hits. It wasn’t fair! But fairness failed to keep Master Leari’s foil from leaving another welt parallel to the first.
When the master swordsman stepped back and signaled the bout over, Jaikus’ sigh of relief could be heard by all.
Master Leari removed his fencing helm, tucked it under one arm and turned his one good eye upon his pupil. “Son, are you certain you want to be a fighter? There’s no shame in realizing your skills may lie elsewhere.”
Not for the first time had Master Leari said those words. Jaikus shook his head. “I’m a swordsman.”
Allowing his gaze to remain upon Jaikus a moment longer, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he motioned for Reneeke to come and join his friend.
“You both know the basics. Keep up with the exercises and stretching, and you will be fine against anyone but better swordsmen. Keep in mind that at the moment, that includes almost every swordsman in the world.”
Jaikus bristled slightly at what he perceived to be an indirect insult while Reneeke merely nodded.
“Your two weeks of instruction are concluded. There is much I can still teach you, but it’ll cost two golds a day.” He saw the look in their eyes that they felt such a price beyond their means. “The Guild sets the price. You might look to others, but some are not worth even a copper for their so-called instruction.”
Reneeke stretched out his hand. “We appreciate all that you have done for us.”
Grinning, Master Leari took his hand and shook it. “You’re welcome, son. Always remember, take care of your sword and your sword will take care of you.”
“We will, and thank you.”
Nodding, Master Leari turned and walked off.
Jaikus watched him for a moment then turned to his lifelong friend. “Now we are full members of the Guild.”
“It looks that way,” Reneeke agreed. “What do you propose we should do to celebrate? Find a couple girls and make a memory?”
He throbbed from the solar plexus to just below his neck. Welts crisscrossed his chest, side, arms, and to his shame, even his backside. Frankly, he hadn’t the strength to do much more than crawl into bed for a week.
“As tempting as that prospect may be, I want a meal, a bath, and a bed. Not necessarily in that order.”
Reneeke chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”
They kept a room at The Inn of the Silver Spoons. Not exactly the most economical of places at which they could be staying, but within its walls, they felt comfortable. And with the money received from the Sythal venture, they could well afford it; at least for a while.
Despite his earlier vow of needing an extended period of rest, restlessness found Jaikus and prompted him to join Reneeke in listening to a bard in the common room of the Silver Spoons.
After several rousing songs and one love ballad that placed a tear in every lady’s eye, Reneeke announced, “You know, Jaik, we’re going to have to think about where we plan to go from here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, our coins are not going to last forever. Now that we are part of the Guild, and our two-week training has come to an end, we should consider taking on another task that needs resolution.”
Jaikus nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.”
“But not as Springers!” Reneeke stated with finality.
“Never again,” Jaikus agreed, chuckling. “But I’m sure there are many jobs out there for ones with our talents.”
Reneeke gave his friend a questioning look. “We don’t really have much in the way of talents, Jaik. Neither one of us can wield a sword with any degree of competency.”
“What do you mean? For two who brought down a troll, snuck goods from under the nose of a fully grown mossback, the world’s the limit.”
“Uh-huh.” Reneeke didn’t sound convinced. “You might remember we had some help with the troll.”
Jaikus waved his hand in the air, dismissing such a thought. “In the morning we’ll go to the Guild and see what they have to offer.” Nursing his ale, Jaikus returned his attention to the bard who had just begun a fun ditty about a boy chasing a dragon’s tail through the woods. The ditty brought back memories of home. Many a time during his youth other bards had performed it back in Running Brook.
Home. They really should make the trip back. If for no other reason than to show their parents what they had become. How Jaikus would love to make his father eat his words. When he had set out for Reakla to join the Guild, his father had prophesized nothing but doom and failure for his son’s “unrealistic” dream.
“You’re a farmer, boy. And that’s all you’re ever going to be.”
Those words still got his dander up whenever he thought of them. His father had never been supportive of anything. Always espoused reasons why his son would fail. Could it have hurt his father to offer him even one word of encouragement?
“I tell you this was a wasted trip.”
“They’ll help. They have to.”
“I doubt it. We have very little money to entice an adventurer to our cause.”
Jaikus’ inner musings ground to a halt as conversational words coming from the table next to theirs piqued his interest. Glancing surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, he saw two men, one slightly older than the other, having their evening repast.
“Fifty golds is quite a sum,” the older man stated.
The younger shook his head. “I’ve heard that any adventurer worth his salt wouldn’t roll out of bed for less than a hundred.”
“Perhaps for a long, difficult task such would be the case. But ours is a minor need, one that would be resolved quickly and without a lot of trouble.”
Jaikus’ interest was definitely piqued now. Turning toward the two men, he said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I couldn’t help but overhear that you are in need of aid from the Guild?”
The younger man’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. That is correct.”
“My friend and I, as it turns out, are members of the Guild and would be interested to hear of your troubles.”
After giving the two young adventurers a once-over, the older man said, “Son, we appreciate your interest, but this might be better left to veterans.”
“I would have you know that my friend and I are veterans. We have tousled with trolls and braved the Swamp and lived to tell the tale.” Of course, he left out the small fact that they had done so in the company of other, much more seasoned adventurers, and that during the short timeframe spent adventuring on their own, they had nearly died if not for Charka’s timely rescue.
When the younger man glanced toward Reneeke, Reneeke nodded agreement, though he did so with an amused grin. Turning to the older man, the younger asked,
“What do you think, Father?”
The father still didn’t look convinced.
“They may be our only chance.”
To Reneeke, the older man asked, “How soon would you be able to leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Jaikus blurted.
“Jaik,” Reneeke cautioned, “we don’t even know what it is they wish of us to do.”
“True enough,” the son replied. He glanced to his father and received a nod.
“My name is Rupert, and this is my father, Robert. Eight days ago, my mother’s grave was desecrated. We discovered the coffin removed from the family crypt, smashed and everything inside gone, including the body of my mother.”
Saddened, Reneeke said, “How terrible.”
Intrigued, Jaikus asked, “And you wish us to find those responsible?”
Robert nodded. “That, and to return her body so we may lay her back to rest. Her spirit will assuredly walk the earth if her body is not returned.”
“Have you spoken to the Guild?” Jaikus asked. The last thing he wanted for some veteran to steal this easy adventure out from under them.
Robert shook his head. “Not yet, no.”
“We just arrived this afternoon,” Rupert added.
“How much are you offering for our services?” Reneeke asked.
Jaikus shot him a glare warning him not to ruin this for them with bothering about such inconsequentials. There was an Adventure waiting!
“Oh, say, fifty golds?” Robert replied.
“We’ll do it,” Jaikus blurted in an attempt to forestall any further objections by Reneeke.
The son’s eyes gleamed. “That’s great. Isn’t it, Father?”
Nodding, Robert kept a serious look upon the two lads from Running Brook. “Are you certain you are up to this?”
“Absolutely,” replied Jaikus without any hesitation. “Consider Jaikus and Reneeke to be on the job.”
“Where did this happen?” Reneeke asked.
“Kith, a small village north of Hermit’s Pass.”
“Hermit’s Pass? Isn’t that in Kittikin country?”
The father nodded. “It is considered so. But they are rarely encountered so far south.”
There were tales aplenty regarding the Kittikin, a somewhat barbaric race of humans that barely tolerated their neighbors to the south. Kittikin raids, and subsequent rescuing of kidnapped maidens, had been the basis for many a tale spun by bards over the years.
“Does that give you cause to reconsider?”
Jaikus’ eyes flicked to the son. “Not in the least.”
“Good. How soon can you leave?”
“In the mor…” began Jaikus before Reneeke overrode him with, “The day after tomorrow.”
Jaikus flashed his friend an annoyed look.
“That will enable us to gather the supplies we need, and transport,” Reneeke explained, more for Jaikus’ benefit than their would-be patrons. “Where can we find you once we arrive?”
“Leave word at the inn,” Robert explained. “Tell them you are friends of Robert and Rupert, they’ll know how to contact us. Get a room and we’ll be in touch. Oh, we’d appreciate you not discussing this with anyone. The desecration of my wife is not something I want gossiped about.”
Jaikus nodded sagely. “I quite understand.”
The father eyed the two adventurers skeptically. “Very well then.” He returned his attention to his son. “The hour grows late and we must begin the journey home in the morning to prepare for your arrival.”
Coming to his feet, he gave the two adventurers a nod, then with his son in tow, left the inn.
“A job, Rene. Our second Adventure!”
“Jaik, I don’t mean to be the rainfall on your Harvest Festival, but now that we’ve taken on this venture, how do you propose we get there? We don’t have horses or sufficient coins with which to buy them. Do you plan for us to walk?”
“With the onset of winter in the air? Hardly.” He thought a moment. “Wait, we could probably get a couple of nags on the cheap.”
“What about supplies? Warm clothing? Food??? Or do you think we can dispense with those.”
Jaikus frowned. He could always count on Reneeke to find the mushy section in any apple. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Let’s hope so. We gave them our word we would help, so if we must walk, we will walk.”
Disliking such a possibility, Jaikus wracked his brain to come up with a solution, with little success.
Reneeke carefully watched his friend. “You know, there is one person whom we might ask.”
Eyes alight, Jaikus asked, “Who?”
“Why, if it isn’t young Reneeke and his erstwhile companion, Jaikus.”
“Good Morning, Chork.”
Adventurer-turned-statue, Chork smiled as they entered the Guild Hall the following morning. Chork’s history had long been debated by Guild members. The theory most accepted inferred that during an adventure some centuries ago, he ran afoul of a trap that transformed him into a statue of gold. Of course, it could very well have been a curse, or maybe even a wish gone wrong that had made him the statue he was today. None knew for certain and he wouldn’t tell. He had been a fixture within the Guild for so long, none now lived who remembered.
When his comrades returned him to the Guild in what he claimed was an age long past, or so the story went, they had set him in a corner of the hall where he could be among friends. Over time, his friends either passed on, or moved off. At the time, he lacked the ability to manipulate his facial features. That ability hadn’t come until a century later when a magic user attempted to change him back into a human. One day, a magic user named Buga of the Red Hat, so named for the fancy red hat he always wore, arrived and announced that he planned to restore Chork to his former, fleshy self.
For a week, Buga put preparations into place, gathered the appropriate reagents and magical items. Word spread that Chork’s affliction would be lifted, and when the day arrived for him to make the attempt, the Guild Hall filled to capacity.
Needless to say, Buga’s efforts hadn’t turned out quite like he planned. Chork remained a statue, but Buga had at least given Chork the ability to communicate, a capability he quickly put to good use. Many were the times when members cursed Buga, for Chork rarely shut-up. They finally placed him near the Guild Hall’s entrance as a sort of watchdog. There, he stood far enough away that he couldn’t “bend the ears” of those at the tables, yet still serve a vital function. He never slept, remembered everything, and had foiled dozens of nefarious events through the years.
“Good morning, young sirs.”
Someone had tied an animal-hide cape about his shoulders, giving the golden guardian a comical appearance. He didn’t seem to mind. Seeing them coming to a stop before him, Chork immediately started in on where their last conversation had ended.
“As you know, cloud patterns are skittish at best, forever changing in their attempt to fool those of us below so we are unable to divulge their secrets. I made a poem about clouds once, do you want to hear?”
“Well…” began Jaikus but was cut off when Chork made the sound of clearing his throat.
“Clouds float by,
High in the sky.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
“Is that it?” Reneeke asked.
“Yes.”
Jaikus rolled his eyes and said, “Uh, that was very nice.”
“Isn’t it though? I worked on that particular verse for over a week before getting it just right.”
Reneeke grinned at his friend. “That’s great, Chork.”
“I have more. This next one I worked on during the rat infestation that nearly caused the Guild to shut down. Let me see…that was back when…uh…”
During the pause while Chork worked out the timeline, Jaikus quickly said, “We need your help.”
“Help? You need my help? How wonderful. In what way can this humble member of the Guild be of assistance?”
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Reneeke laid out their dilemma, how they had a far distance to travel and lacked the means to get there.
“Have you tried the caravansary? If there is one heading north, you could hire out as guards. Of course, they do plod along at an agonizingly slow pace. Yet, I would hazard a guess that such a mode of travel would still be preferable to that of walking.”
Jaikus nodded. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Good idea,” Reneeke chimed in. “You wouldn’t know who to approach, would you?”
“As I am rooted to this one position, I am afraid I have limited information on the current availability of caravans needing guards. I would, however suggest speaking with Raynwar.”
“Raynwar?” Jaikus queried.
Chork’s eyes widened. “Have you not yet met Raynwar? He’s only the third most important member of the Guild here in Reakla, the first being the Guildmaster of course.”
“Who’s the second?” Reneeke asked.
“Me, silly.”
Reneeke grinned. “Why did I not see it?”
Sighing, Chord rocked his eyes back and forth. “My worth is seriously undervalued by so many.”
“So, who is this Raynwar person?”
Chork turned his eyes to Jaikus. “He’s the Master of Records. His duties include keeping abreast of all unresolved Adventures, both here and at the other Guild Houses, as well as being informed of various aspects of Reakla that would benefit our members.”
“And one of those aspects being caravans in need of guards?” Reneeke guessed.
“That is correct, young sir. I find it hard to believe you have spent two weeks as members without meeting him.”
Jaikus bristled. “We’ve been busy.”
Chork turned his eyes upon the lad, blinked once, and remained silent. His golden eyes lingered upon Jaikus before turning back to Reneeke. “You can find him on the second floor. Look for the door with the knife.”
“Knife?” Jaikus asked.
“Long story behind that, truly quite interesting. It happened quite some time ago…”
Seeing that Chork was winding up for one of his lengthy story-like explanations, the two friends made their excuses and quickly backed away.
“I’ll be here should you wish to hear the rest…”
Taking the nearest stairwell, they ascended to the floor above and quick-timed it out of “Chork-range.” The one-time adventurer’s voice finally fell silent.
The stairwell opened onto a long corridor running the length of the second level. There was another level above this one, but they had been informed that their presence would not be welcomed on the uppermost tier. It was reserved for the higher-ups in the Guild hierarchy.
Jaikus paused a moment to scan the hallway for a door bearing an embedded knife. Not immediately spying one, he left the stairwell. The hallway spanned the entire building with doors standing closed every seven to ten paces.
Each door received a brief, cursory examination. When he failed to see a protruding knife, Jaikus continued on.
After they reached just past mid-way of the long corridor, Reneeke paused before a rather plain door, one which Jaikus had already dismissed. “Hey, Jaik. I think this is it.”
Glancing back, Jaikus shook his head. “Can’t be. There’s no knife.”
Reneeke’s finger traced an outline in the grain of the wood that had all but faded. It was in the shape of a knife. Something had at one time been affixed to the door but had long since been removed. He chuckled at Jaikus exasperated expression. “Guess Chork’s not up on the latest placement of door accouterments. You’d think someone would have told him by now.”
“Whatever. Let’s get this over with so we can be on our way.” Reaching out to grab the handle with the intention of opening the door, he was forestalled when Reneeke placed a hand on his forearm.
“We better knock first.”
Three raps were answered by a muffled, “Enter.”
Jaikus pushed the door open and found a man of middling years with sword in hand. Sweat dripped down his face and the tunic he wore was soaked through. He slid the sword into its scabbard as he turned toward them.
“Just keeping limber.”
“Wouldn’t that be better done down in the sparring yard?” Jaikus asked.
“Depends on what you wish to accomplish,” he glanced to the sword hanging at Jaikus’ waist then added, “young fighter.”
Reneeke nodded while Jaikus merely looked confused.
Raynwar took his seat behind a rather long desk devoid of anything that could remotely be construed as paperwork. There was a shield, two maces, and a yellow sack a little larger than a belt pouch containing something that moved.
“You are the two who brought in the troll, aren’t you?”
Jaikus puffed his chest up and nodded. “That we are.”
“Good job. I hear the magic users are putting it to good use.”
Turning thoughtful, Reneeke asked, “In what way?”
“Who knows? They’re a tight-lipped bunch who hates to share their secrets with each other let alone someone not of the craft. If you ever find out, let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
Leaning back in his chair, the Master of the Records asked, “What can I do for you lads?”
“We’ve taken on an Adventure up Kittikin way and need to find a way to get there,” Reneeke explained. “Chork suggested we try to hire on as caravan guards. He said you might know of one heading that way that needed two?”
“The faster the better,” Jaikus added.
Raynwar glanced to Jaikus and chuckled. “There has never been a fast caravan, lad. They are slow as slugs. But they’ll get you there.”
“Do you know of one?” Jaikus asked somewhat impatiently.
“Two, actually. One is mastered by Stiven Thynn. He’s taking a load of dried peat moss through Hermit’s Pass to the city of Split Oak. The other is mastered by Isaac Tuppin. His caravan is but four wagons. I believe he plans to make a quick stop at Kith before continuing up to Split Oak.”
“Kith?” Jaikus asks. When Raynwar nodded, he cast Reneeke a grin. “That’s perfect.”
“Which one will depart first?”
“I believe Master Thynn leaves in the morning while Master Tuppin departs the day after.”
“And both are in need of two guards?” Reneeke questioned.
Raynwar nodded. “As of yesterday evening they needed at least that many.”
Jaikus turned for the door. “Then we better get down there before they go and hire someone else.”
“Good luck, boys.”
Reneeke gave the Master of Records a respectful bow then followed Jaikus from the room.
“C’mon, Rene.” Hurrying down the hallway, Jaikus hit the stairs at a run.
Reneeke grinned at his friend’s exuberance and followed at a more measured pace.
Chapter 2