Buelgwarn Edge Castle basks in brilliant sunlight. The King's home and fortress stretches high to the silk blue sky. A white flag emblazoned with the royal sigil, a blue Flike against a field of white, waves majestically off each of the castle's parapets. The sight sickens Azor. All the Golon can see is endless tons of brother flesh, hacked and cracked from father mounts - all to build one man a macabre home. As a Golon, Azor sees castles as one of man's most grisly creations. It reminds him of the many ways man consumes.
A titan of living stone, Azor has no need to eat or drink. He does not sleep or wear clothes. He has no use for gold. Klage, a blade forged by a decade of Dwarven labor, is his only possession. As the castle looms closer, Azor marvels at how complex the lives of humans are. They spend half of their lives struggling for food and shelter and the other half pursuing things they do not need. Azor had traveled with Kinewyn for four years now.
Despite the powerful revulsion Buelgwarn Edge Castle causes Azor the sight beyond the castle delights him. The King's fortress sits on a circle of stone large enough to hold ten villages. Beyond that circle is naught but the open air. Cliffs a thousand feet high surround the castle making it accessible by only one thin road of stone. Golons are only born on the peaks of Thrycion's greatest mountains but the sheer volume of rock in the canyon behind Buelgwarn Edge Castle remind Azor of his father mount in the Kraster Range. The stone figure moves close to Bryong as the band and their escort of fifty King's knights enters into the killing ground. The narrow stone road before the castle gates is purposely thin, no side barriers to prevent a fatal fall down the jagged cliffs. Azor watches dozens of archers position themselves along the castle's crenellations. They can slay a hundred men in seconds if need be. Their arrows will be no more than kisses on Azor's granite skin. Nonetheless Azor is wary of the danger the archers poses for Bryong and Kinewyn.
“Kinewyn’s band - expected urgently by King Trajon." Baron Grell barks out the sentence like an order. The clanking of mammoth gears is the only response from the gatekeeper. Azor steadies himself as he enters the gaping maw, the castle's iron gates. His revulsion is turning to anger. Kinewyn warned Azor the night before to remember the effect the castle had on him the last time. Kinewyn urged his warrior to control his anger so the King could explain why he had decided to forcibly bring the band to Buelgwarn Edge. The Golon tries to suppress his rising fury but everywhere he looks his eyes are assaulted with the carved flesh of his brothers. The castle yard rings with the metallic chirps of a young man's blade. Four years ago, Prince Ayson had been a boy turning into a man. Azor remembers a gangly, clumsy youth. The young man before him now has shed that skin.
Prince Ayson hammers his trainer back with ferocious energy and yet each strike is well placed, calculated. Azor can see the Prince is skilled, dangerous. Azor has spent years of his time in the world separated from the father mount in dedication to the blade. Klage is counted as a brother. Their countless hours together have bred a familiarity between stone and steel. In mid swing the Prince catches sight of the band and their numerous escorts. Sweat drips from his brow. The trainer withdraws and Ayson places his sword on the rack, “Kinewyn, thank you for coming.” With casual ease the prince sends his long sword slicing through the air to bury itself in a haft of the weapons rack. "Baron Grell, I commend you on bringing our guests here in safety. I dismiss... Wait, where is Coveark?"
Baron Grell steps his horse sideways. "The ranger disappeared in the fishing village, my Lord Prince. He has followed the group for our entire journey. My men tried to apprehend him but were unable."
Azor chuckles remembering the arrow that plucked a chicken leg from Baron Grell's hand before he bit into it. Coveark had sent a warning arrow at the Baron every day of the journey, a whistling reminder that Coveark watched over his companions from the shadows and trees. The King's knights throw angry glances at Azor's rumbling laughter, but none move to quiet the behemoth. Azor feels Bryong's hand on is arm and quiets. The Prince tenses. "Well, he shall be found before he comes within a thousand strides of this castle. Turn your men around and search the Edge road, top and bottom. Then turn the outer city upside down, not a man is to rest until the ranger is found."
"Coveark will not be found on Edge road or in the city. He is here, within the castle walls already." The speaker jumps the last six feet down from a ladder that had brought him from the crenellations. Azor watches Bryong's eyes widen. Bryong has never seen Coveark's father, Dromen. The silver haired man is older, perhaps slower, but a mirror image in every other way to his son. "My son could leave a shadows trail when he left this castle three years ago. However his time with you has changed him, Kinewyn, I am sure it has not diminished his skills."
Kinewyn meets Dromen's eyes. Four years of time pass between the two in a flash before the elf speaks. "Coveark's time with me has honed his skill. I thank you for what you taught him. It has saved my life more than once." Dromen moves closer to Kinewyn. For a moment Azor thinks that Dromen will strike the old thief and he begins to move. Kinewyn waits motionless for Dromen's next action.
"I know you are not responsible for my son's decisions, Elf. But you have allowed him, encouraged him to use his youth to steal, to risk his life for no more than mere gold. For that I hold you responsible. For that I'd declare you a thief of time."
Azor can tell Dromen's words cut the elf deep. Dromen serves the King as the head of the King's ranger contingent, six hundred men who patrol, protect and preserve the countless acres of forest in the Kingdom of Taltherin. Dromen had studied in the Elven lands, learned the secrets of the Green Walkers, and created a few woodland secrets of his own in the two decades he had served the King. All Dromen knew he taught his son, Coveark. Coveark had learned his father's lessens well. Azor had seen the young ranger use the skills of his father to guide the band safely through the forests of Thrycion while respecting the land as even the elves did.
"Enough." The Prince pulls on his shirt. His gaze lingers a moment on Bryong. "The King awaits your presence."
Quickly the Prince leads Kinewyn, Bryong, Azor and Dromen through the castle. The halls are made of the same stark white marble as the exterior. On the castle's inside each block is etched with the flowing designs of the Kingdom's greatest masons. The halls are wide and high with the same mammoth scale Azor had seen on the outside of Buelgwarn Edge Castle. Thick double doors are swung open by two of the King's knights. Azor can tell by the men's posture and bearing that these knights are of a higher caliber than those sent to bring Kinewyn’s band back. The inner sanctum of the King is all that one would expect. A sprawling hall with but one seat - a glorious and striking throne. Twenty guards line the room on each side. The Prince makes his way to the throne and without hesitation interrupts one of the King's mages. "Father, I present those you have been waiting for, Kinewyn’s band."
A thin pale man dressed in the fine silks covered in runes moves out of the Prince's way, but his face shows his disapproval. King Trajon stands. " Kinewyn, it has been far too long. Please, please accept my apologies for bringing you here are under these conditions. I assure you I would never have resorted to these methods if the matter is not of the utmost importance." The King steps from his dais and opened his arms to embrace Kinewyn.
Kinewyn raises his hand, blocking the King from moving forward. "I do not embrace my captor, King Trajon. I will hear no more of your word play. You have taken my band as captives. You will treat with us as captives, not as guests who came of our own free will."
In unison blades flash from the King's knights scabbards. In instant response, Azor draws Klage from his back. Bryong circles to Azor's back and a bright blaze of blue light crackles between her hands. Kinewyn stands still.
"Hold your steel!" King Trajon shouts, "You are insolent even for an elf. I brought you here for discourse, not for bloodshed. Hear my words and I give you the oath of a king that you will be free to go."
Kinewyn thinks and finally nods slightly. Azor stands from his battle crouch and sheaths Kla
ge. The now brilliant corona of energy collected between Bryong's hands dissipates slowly. The King's mages are still mumbling and gesturing.
"Shut up, you fools," the Prince shouts. The knights do not cease their muttering despite the Prince's outrage. Bryong's display of latent power hints at the veracity of her reputation as one of the most powerful magic users on Thrycion. The King's mages are among the most learned and experienced magic users alive, yet they practice the old methods of spellcasting. Each day the mages spend several hours memorizing the spells they might need to cast. In order for a mage to cast a spell the complex liturgy of the spell has to be spoken along with exact hand gestures. Once a spell is cast the memory of it is wiped from the mage's mind and he will have to memorize it again the next day. Bryong practices as a Freecaster. She can instantly call reserves of energy to cast custom spells in seconds. No memorization, no spoken liturgy. Light Bringer was the first Freecaster on Thrycion and only a handful of men and women had followed him since his death half a century past. So far only those with rare, strong innate magical ability could do what Light Bringer taught in the Book of Free Magic.
Azor watches Prince Ayson fume, glaring back and forth between Bryong and his father's mages. Bryong's open display of her ability obviously galls the Prince. Azor shifts himself between Bryong and the Prince and bare his two pug fangs. Kinewyn shakes his head, "Speak, Trajon. I do not wish to be here any longer than necessary."
The King hesitates. He has put men to death for affronts less than this. Azor can see the King's frustration. It is obvious the King is not used to dealing with anyone so heedless of his power. Azor knows, however, that Kinewyn shows no man more respect than he has earned.
Finally the King turns and settles himself on the white marble throne. "As King I am responsible for trade between Taltherin and the powerful kingdoms that border her. I presently have scouts in every corner of Thrycion looking for unique and valuable goods to import to Taltherin or for new ports or city for the goods Taltherin wishes to export. As you know to the north of Taltherin is the nomad kingdom, Grenfell. I believe you know the half-orc, Brugon Slace. He leads a hundred clans now in Grenfell. A cruel and tactless beast with little appreciation for the advancements we have achieved in Taltherin. He is uncultured and monsters walk the lands of his kingdom without being checked. Yet I have kept the peace with Brugon for fifteen years. My father was at war with Grenfell clan leaders for the last decade of his life."
The King pauses and nods at his mages. Two immediately exit the room. "Now that peace may be threatened. One of my trade scouts returned from Grenfell four months ago with a very interesting item. As your Freecaster well knows living and non-living material can only hold enchantment for a number of days determined by the magical ability of the enchanter."
Azor looks to Bryong and she nods to both the Golon and Kinewyn, confirming the King's words. The two mages return. Between them floats a beam of wood, a choice piece of lumber Azor guesses was cut from the center of a large tree. "This is Hearan lumber," the King smiles. "Cut from the Hearan forest in Grenfell. This wood, unlike any my mages have ever found holds enchantment permanently. The levitation spell that my trading scout cast on this beam should have lasted three days. The spell is as strong today as it was when it was cast four single crest moons ago. One of the Grenfell clans believes the Hearan forest is sacred. I have sent several envoys to buy the wood in volume from Brugon but he has sent them all back empty handed. I need this wood. Fortunately for you and Brugon, I am a patient man. I have brought you here to commission you to fell three mature trees from the Hearan forest and return the wood along with three saplings. If you will help, Kinewyn, it will avoid a war which could be devastating for both Taltherin and Grenfell."
Azor waits for Kinewyn to answer but Bryong shakes her tousled red curls. "What do you need the wood for exactly?"
Kinewyn answers the Freecaster's question. "Ships," the old elf says plainly. "Flying ships. I saw the foundation of a ship yard in Edge City as we passed through. I wondered why you would have a ship yard more than 3,000 man-strides from the nearest river."
King Trajon brushes his brilliant white cape from his knee. “Flying ships. Can you imagine the changes such a creation would bring? My mages assure me that they will be able to increase the rate of growth on the saplings you will bring me. Taltherin will show the world its first flying ship in two months from now and before the next harvest we will have a merchant fleet. These ships will increase trade ten fold in Taltherin and enable us to trade with kingdoms that are out of our reach now."
Kinewyn shakes his head. "Brugon Slace is no more of a fool than I. He will not treat with you because he knows that if you are to build a fleet of flying ships you would use it for more than merchant runs. You would defeat his clans in the span of a dozen full single crest moons. In fact, a fleet of flying ships would enable you to win back those tracks of forest lost to the Krahame kingdom in the south. I can imagine the changes that flying ships would bring about. Trade is not your primary concern, Trajon."
"You will coat that tongue of yours with respect, elf, or I will carve it from your mouth," Prince Ayson's hand goes to his side where he finds no sword.
Azor ignores the threat. He could tell by the Prince's quick fury that Kinewyn had the right of it. Azor watches as King Trajon hisses for Ayson to be silent.
"My son has his grandfather's wrath. I on the other hand have tempered that fury into reason. Look Kinewyn at what I have done with Taltherin. My people eat and build and prosper. I share my wealth and do not tolerate the brutish lords that served my father. I have kept the peace with Brugon Slace for ten years. I even allowed that fat harlot to the South to take back tracks of forest that were rightfully won from her husband in order to avoid bloodshed. But I am neither a fool nor weak. I see that this wood will change Thrycion. The man with the foresight to acquire it and put it to its proper use will have an incredible advantage over all foes. I have the strength to take what I would have. But I do not wish to accomplish a task by force if it can be avoided. I can have fifty thousand swords on their way to Grenfell to take those trees in five days. Tens of thousands will die. Or I can send you. What will it be, Kinewyn?"
Kinewyn rests his thumbs in his high belt, close to twin silver daggers, "The decision to send 50,000 swords into Grenfell is no one's but your own. I am a thief but I steal only what has already been stolen. There is no dispute that the wood is within lands rightly controlled by the Grenfell clans. I will not steal the wood or the saplings for you." Kinewyn meets King Trajon's eyes and wordlessly echoes his resolution.
"Well, Kinewyn you force my hand-"
Kinewyn shakes his head, "No more. I will hear no more. I have listened with open ears and an open heart. I now press upon you your own words. My band is free to go."
Azor reads the King's hesitation. He watches as the King's eyes scan the three adventurers before him. Azor does the math with him. Kinewyn is now into his third century but he moves like silk in the wind, fluid and unpredictable. The old thief can certainly be counted on for the death or maiming of five to ten of King's knights. Bryong is always hard to gauge because her efficiency is limited by only two factors, her imagination and her force of will. Azor has seen her turn slashing swords into harmless sprays of water, lock warriors' feet to the ground and even throw a man into the sky, making him ascend though he were falling up. Azor does not even consider how many King's knights he can fell. These guards have no ropes, nets or chains. How can they possibly stop him? Only the mages are a threat to him and he can believes he can crush their frail bodies before they can mumble and gesture out a spell of any significance. Certainly the present King's knights and mages are enough to kill at least Bryong or Kinewyn, but not both. Azor will not let a man leave the room alive if either of his band mates fall, be he king, prince, knight or mage. Azor's pug fangs turn up slightly as he sees the King come to the realization that 40 of his finest knights and five of his mages are not a match for thre
e of Kinewyn ' band.
"You are free to go. So be gone," King Trajon says from behind clenched teeth.
Kinewyn raises the hood of his cloak, taking his time. His soft green leather boots make not a sound on the white marble as he leaves. Azor and Bryong fall in behind. Only after Kinewyn is past every one of the King's knights does he turn. "How many envoys did you send to Brugon Slace, Trajon?"
"Three."
"Did Brugon harm any of these envoys?"
The king looks up, "The first was sent back unharmed with nothing more than Slace's refusal to sell me the wood. The second was sent back shaved bald, the traditional shaming of a Grenfell warrior. The envoy's guards were stripped of arm and armor. The third envoy is still missing."
"I will serve as your envoy," Kinewyn says. "I guarantee I will return with enough wood to build three flying ships. Perhaps I will be able to set up terms to buy more wood in the near future."
King Trajon stands and walks the length of the hall. "What is your price?" The King's mages close behind him like a cape. Azor circles forward, closer to the King. "We cannot discuss a price for services I will render until you have paid for services I have already provided. You owe each member of my band 1,000 gold per day for the journey. 16,000 gold. You owe me a one day advisors fee of 5,000 gold. 21,000 gold total."
King Trajon laughs. Kinewyn turns and walks. "Wait!" King Trajon's laughter disappears like water on a hot stone. "Vischkin, fetch the Elf's sum from the Counter. Be quick about it."
Kinewyn continues as Vischkin shuffles away. "My price for bringing you the wood is the return of all of the Craster forest to the Wood King and the return of the Banal Canyons to the Prathan kingdom."
The king frowns, "That is hundreds of walks of land that thousands of Taltherin men died to obtain. And why would you concern yourself with anything in the Prathan kingdom?"
Azor watches Bryong size up the mages behind the king, capturing the runes and symbols that adorned their robes.
Kinewyn straightens his lithe form. "My price is my price and my reasons are my reason. I have made you an offer. Accept or refuse my terms as you will, Trajon . But be warned. You speak of thousands dead and war raging between Taltherin and Grenfell. Thousands will die if you clash with Brugon Slace. But whose thousands? You underestimate Grenfell because they have not built castles and do not trade in the farthest ports of Thrycion. But war is not a cultured pursuit and I doubt you would understand some of the advances Slace has made in the craft of war."
Azor watches the King as Kinewyn ' words wash over him, sees the King push his doubts down so they will not show on his face. "I will give the Craster Forest to the wood King and triple the 'fee' I am paying you. But I will not return the Banal Canyons to the Prathan kingdom. You ask too much. This my final offer, Kinewyn. Far more than three ships lumber is worth."
Azor tenses knowing Kinewyn ' answer before it comes. Kinewyn has set his price. He would not have done so if he were in the mood to negotiate. From behind an ornate curtain near the throne Vischkin enters.
"I will take your final offer as a refusal of my price. So be it. I also decline your offer. With my fee, I will take my leave."
King Trajon bristles at the old elf's words. "You forget your place, Kinewyn. I am ruler of this kingdom and you will not mock my hospitality. You will act as my envoy on my agreed terms and thank me for my generosity. I have suffered enough of your insolence."
Kinewyn flips his cloak. It flutters open. A graceful flick of his wrist sends a small pouch over his shoulder. The bag arcs and jingles lightly in the air before being sliced open by one of Kinewyn’s thrown daggers. Gold coins and a few gems spray out. Kinewyn ' action takes only a second, a second in which every eye in the room follows where the old elf directs. Simultaneously, Azor moves one long stride and extended his mammoth arm. When the King's knights and mages raise their eyes from the spectacle Azor is holding the King at arms length by the head. Three stone fingers thick as loaves of bread grip King Trajon's head like a fat melon. Trajon's feet dangle inches above the floor. Azor unleashes a startling gravely roar. The sound stuns the knights in the room and freezes their arms reaching for steel. Azor follows Kinewyn, stepping backward toward the door.
Kinewyn voice is clear and forceful. "If one blade is unsheathed Azor will crush your King's head. Baron Grell, clear our path. We will exit the castle by the Cliff Gate. Move!"
Chapter 04