DarkFyre - Chapter Twelve - Part Two

Chapter Twelve - Part Two

“What the hell is going on?” Rael asked brusquely.

“Well a fine evenin’ to you, too, and don’t you look well tonight?” Galin said with a glare as he stepped aside and allowed his Captain to enter his home.

Rael stepped through the back door and into the small, empty kitchens at the back of Galin’s modest estate. The old Knight’s holding in the city wasn’t half the size of IronWing Manor, but then House Caldor was a minor House of even lower standings than his own, and this wasn’t even the House’s main estate, but rather Galin’s own private little Manor. Galin would say it was given to him so the family didn’t have to bother with him, but Rael suspected it was rather the other way around.

The kitchen was dimly lit by a single torch in the wall and the glowing coals that remained of the cooking fire in the little kitchen’s lone brick oven. In truth, Rael was a bit surprised to find Galin himself answering his knock instead of a servant, but Galin had few enough servants left here to tend the upkeep of the diminutive Manor. Now, as Galin sat down at the small, battered kitchen table and it became evident that he intended for them to have their meeting here instead of a sitting room or some other more comfortable room, Rael’s surprise turned to annoyance.

“Drop the sarcasm and bluster, old man. I’ve no time for either. I’ve far too many questions and not nearly enough answers, so out with it. What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Sit down already, and stop giving me that look,” Galin grumbled as he waved toward the empty cedar wood chair sitting opposite his own. “And you may as well give up on any of the usual ‘my Lord’ or ‘Sir’ garbage. If you’ve no time for levity, I’ve no time for pomp or circumstance.”

“Just as well with me,” Rael returned. He reluctantly took his seat, and shifted his chair so he kept the door in his peripheral vision. His hand rested on the hilt of the short sword at his waist. If Galin noticed, he made no comment.

“Why here?” Rael asked.

“Because it’s quieter and less likely to have bloody ears nearby than my sitting room or study. I have few enough servants, but those I have I wouldn’t trust with the knife to shave my whiskers.”

“You never shave your whiskers,” Rael pointed out with an arched brow.

“Who’s playin’ at sarcasm now?” Galin snapped irritably.

Rael leaned back in his chair and regarded the grizzled soldier closely. “Tell me what you know.”

Galin made a face and slowly shook his head. “Damned little enough. I know you’re a wanted man, for one. The price on your head would be enough to make the King himself wince.”

Rael shook his head slowly. His jaw clenched and his face turned grim. “And what have I done to earn this dubious little honor?”

“What haven’t you done would be the better question,” Galin returned. “Arson, theft, destruction of property, murder, abandonment of duty, treason against the Crown…the list got too sodding long for me to follow. Basically, they’re saying you turned traitor when you left the camp, and the mess over at your estates was all your own doing.”

Rael’s face twisted harshly as he cursed for a brief moment, before reining his temper in and saying simply, “Lies, the lot of it.”

“Course it is,” Galin scoffed, as if the very notion were laughable. “But speaking out otherwise is a quick way to a short life at this point. I no more than began to express an inkling of doubt, and now I’ve been suspended from duty and taken from the front. Indefinitely.”

“That’s ridiculous! What in the name of the gods is going on?” Rael growled.

“I was counting on you answering that bloody question,” Galin said as he scratched absently at the scar creasing his face. “Seems you’ve done something to royally piss Dern off.”

“Dern?” Rael asked, surprised. “What’s Dern got to do with all this?”

“Near as I can tell, all the accusations and orders about needing your head on a pike is coming directly from him,” Galin explained. “And it was him ordered me put on leave. Bastard refused to meet with me this morning, and his man said if I left my estate before they sent for me again, I’d be investigated for treason my ownself.”

“Gods be damned,” Rael cursed as he ran his fingers through his thick, tangled copper hair in frustration.

“You mind telling me just what in the name of Ceradi’s holy tits you’ve managed to get yourself into?”

Rael stared at the weathered, scarred face that he knew so well, searching for any sign of duplicity. “The more you know, the worse it will be for you if they turn their attention your way.”

“I’m already fucked if they look at me twice as it is. Out with it. Now.”

Rael folded his heavy hands on the table between them, took a deep breath, and told him.

“Damn all,” Galin swore quietly. He leaned back in his seat, his hands folded across his middle as he rocked gently in his chair, thinking. “And this Gnari girl…this Silmaria. You think she can be trusted?”

“She was probably closer to my father than I ever was,” Rael asserted. “And she’s had all she’s ever known stripped away. She has more reason than I to hate these men. I trust her.”

“Well. Might be it’s a moot point, anyway,” Galin harrumphed.

“Why do you say that?”

Galin leaned in closer and rubbed his hands together in a gesture Rael recognized as nervousness. “You’ve got to leave, Rael.”

“Leave? Leave how, exactly?” Rael asked with the rising feeling that he wasn’t going to like this.

“Leave Trelling’s Rest. Leave the Dale. Hell, leave the North entirely,” Galin stated, then quickly held his hands up to ward off Rael’s protests as he plowed on, “Think about it, lad. You’re a hunted man. In more ways than one. Might be these assassins of yours are in league with Dern, or be controlling him, or be him who bought them to begin with. And might be the two have nothing at all to do with one another. Does it even matter? The assassins are hunting you, the Knighthood is hunting you, and the guard, and it damn well might as well be everyone in the Kingdom! You can’t stay here. Your disguises and skulking about are only going to keep you under their notice for so long. You stay anywhere in the North, you’re going to get yourself found sooner than later, and someone’ll have your head on a pike, mark me.”

Rael listened with a mix of impatience and begrudging agreement. As much as he was loath to admit it, Galin was right.

“I can’t just run,” he said angrily, clinging to the last of his stubbornness. “What kind of life is that? And what of justice for all those that have suffered and died of these madmen? For me? I cannot let these murderers go unpunished.”

“And neither should you,” Galin agreed, gruffly, “But you won’t be punishing anyone unless you figure out who these bastards are in the first place, and you won’t find any answers here in the Dale that don’t come at the end of a blade.”

Rael lean back in his chair with a pensive look, his eyes turned to the dying coals. Galin, for once, was silent, letting the young Noble think. When Rael at last spoke, his voice was calm and level once again. “Where would you go?”

Galin thought long before replying, “You’re familiar with the Ondarian Federation, yes?”

“I am,” Rael nodded. “They’re a group of allied city-states to the south. They’re spread across The Weeping Lands, situated between the Johake Grasslands to the northwest, the Reach to the east, and the Ashlands to the far south. What of them?”

“There’s a place in the Federation. A great hall of learning called the Kahrthen Library. It’s vast, and many scholars, sages, scribes and other men of learning congregate there to pursue ancient mysteries, secret lost knowledge… and whatever other pile of complete horse shit those types go jabbering on about.”

“The name is familiar, vaguely,” Rael said thoughtfully. “You think I can find answers there?”

Galin shrugged. “Could be. Could not be. But the Ondarian Federation’s neutral ground. They keep themselves removed from the politics and power games of their neighbors, and we all leave them alone because the Federation is pretty much smack dab in the middle of the continent, so they’re about the most vital trading hub there is. The Kahrthen Library is known throughout the land for its stores of knowledge, and best of all, no one there’s likely to want to kill you. It’s the best thought I’ve got.”

“It’s a good plan. But dangerous,” Rael mused. He rose to his feet and began to pace as he thought aloud. “It’ll be a long journey. South and out of Dale lands. Then looping southeast to skirt around the Johake Grasslands, following the edge of the Reach to avoid the Haruke. Then on to The Weeping Lands and the Ondarian Federation. It’s a long way.”

“Good,” Galin returned. “The farther away from here you are, the better, at least until you’ve figured out what all this is about.”

Rael looked at his friend closely. “Come with me.”

“Pah! Not bloody likely,” Galin said with a wry grin. “There’ll be no tromping off on a grand adventure for this old soldier. I don’t have that many leagues and miles left in me. Besides, supposing I were to up and disappear, it wouldn’t take long for someone to get wind of it and put two and two together. They’re pretty convinced you’re in Trelling’s Rest, hiding out somewhere. Let them keep thinking that for as long as possible, and you’ll have that much more of a lead on any pursuit. If I went with you, that lead would be blown. Besides, here I can keep my eyes and ears open for changes while I do some digging of my own. Not to mention I can keep an eye on that Gnari friend of yours.”

Rael frozen with an expression of confusion. “What do you mean?”

Galin gave him a withering look. “Don’t be stupid, lad. The girl can’t go with you. She can’t possibly make that kind of journey. On the road trailing after your heels is no place for a woman. She’ll slow you down and get herself killed, more than like. Best you leave her here. I can look after her and keep her safe.”

He was right, of course.

Only why then did it feel so wrong, to even think of leaving Silmaria behind? She would be safer, yes. The journey would be arduous and full of danger and hardship. He could spare her all of that. He recognized the wisdom and kindness in Galin’s offer. Even though very idea left a sour taste in his mouth and a hard lump in his gut, he had to do right by her. In an otherwise impossible situation, this might be his one chance.

“You’re right,” he relented at last.

“Good man,” Galin replied. He rose and took the nearby torch from the wall, and nodded to him. “Come on, then, let’s see what supplies and provisions we can get for you. You’ll be needing them for the long road ahead, and thanks to our arse faced ‘Lord Commander’, I won’t be leaving the sodding house anytime soon.”

---

“Who is it?”

“Rael, son of Edwin.”

Silmaria opened the door to let him in, glaring at him as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. It was the middle of the night, and she’d fallen asleep almost an hour ago, waiting for him to return. “You’re an ass. My Lord. I was worried sick.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Silmaria blinked and looked at him again. Something was off about him. Something different. There was a palpable air of sullenness about him.

“What happened? Why were you gone so long?” she asked, unnerved by his reserved demeanor. Her annoyance was quickly being replaced by uncertainty.

“Galin and I discussed many things,” he explained, stepping deeper into the room. He stood there, staring down at her, his eyes glinting silver pools in the dim light of a few low burning candles. His face was set, determined, but clearly unhappy. “He insisted it’s not safe to stay in the city. In all of the Dale, really. And, after thinking about it and talking it over, I agree with him.”

Silmaria swallowed softly, suddenly full of nervousness. “So what does that mean?”

“It means,” Rael scrubbed an agitated hand through his thick copper locks. “That I have to leave here. I’m traveling south, away from DarkFyre Dale, to a place far out of the assassins reach. Somewhere I can knowledge I seek. Somewhere someone or something can tell me who these people are, so I can bring them to justice. I don’t have any other sensible choice at this point.”

Silmaria listened with a growing queasy, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach. “‘We’, you mean. ‘We’ are leaving. Right?”

Rael stared down at her for a long moment. He had a heavy pack slung on his back, full of supplies. He was serious. But then, he so often was.

The Nobleman stepped forward and reached down to take her delicate hands into his much larger ones. She could feel callouses on his fingers and palms, built from years of gripping the sword. It was only the second time he’d ever taken her hand in his. It felt good, but she didn’t want this, didn’t want to hear what she knew he would say. She pulled her hands away.

“I can’t take you,” he said softly, and she could see the reluctance and the pain in his eyes and that only made it worse. “It’s going to be a long journey. A very dangerous, very hard one. I can’t put you through that.”

She vehemently shook her head. There were tears in her eyes, then they were spilling down her face. Damn him! Damn him for doing this to her!

“I’ll be okay. I’m strong. I can make it. I won’t slow you down, I promise I won’t,” she said, immediately hating the pathetic pleading sound of her own voice, but completely unable to stop it.

“It’s not about slowing me down,” Rael told her. “It’s just too dangerous. Traveling across the Dale in the winter and braving the passes will be bad enough. But then the wilds along the rest of the journey, too? And I may very well be hunted every step of the way. I can’t put you through that. I won’t. I’ll leave you with Galin. He’s a good man, if a bit rough around the edges. He’ll make sure you’re well cared for. He gave me his word.”

“I don’t care about his word!” Silmaria protested heatedly. She stared up at him, her face caught between a look of desperate pleading and a biting glare. Damn him all over again for being so tall, that she had to crane her head back so, just to meet his eyes! “I want to go with you. We’ve gotten this far together. I can keep up! I can help!”

“Silmaria… I can’t,” he said, and his voice was heavy indeed. “I’m responsible for all of this. For the House burning, and putting you through all this danger. For all of your friends and family dying. All those good people…it’s all my fault. You were right about that. It’s too much, Silmaria. I won’t let you be yet more blood on my hands.”

Silmaria glared up at him, her hands balled into fists as she seethed with defiance until she was physically shaking with it. Then all at once, her resolve and anger crumbled, and her shakes became barely restrained sobs. Her lower lip trembled. She leapt forward unexpectedly and pressed herself against him, her small hands gripping the front of his wool shirt as she pressed her face into his chest.

“I don’t care about what happened before! I don’t blame you. Not anymore. Don’t you understand? You’re all I have left! All I have left of him! Of my life. Of anything that makes any sense! Please. Do whatever you must, go wherever you must, only take me with you,” she cried. “Don’t leave me behind. You promised! Please…please don’t leave me alone. You promised.”

Rael stared at her as she sobbed quietly against him, utterly torn. Every scrap of logic in him said he must leave her. He had no choice. She would be in more danger than he could imagine if she stayed with him. With Galin, she would be safe, stable, well cared for and be able to start moving on with her life. It was the best thing, for both of them, to part ways now. He knew that!

Yet, as he stared down at her, pressed in close, her tear streaked face pressed to his broad chest…

The Nobleman wrapped the small girl in his arms, pulling her in closer to squeeze her tight as he muttered crossly into her ear, “Damn you, and all stubborn, thick skulled, iron willed women everywhere.”

---

“Message for you, my Lord,” Said Galin’s Manservant, Leon, in a voice that spoke of boredom, resigned patience and quite-a-lot-of-better-things-to-do, thank you.

Galin looked up from the old tome he’d been pouring over. Or, at least appeared to be pouring over. It was a collection of old customs and rituals practiced by followers of the old gods in ages gone by, the closest thing he had in his study to writings on magic. It had been a gift from Edwin many years ago, back when his dear departed friend had gone through that all too brief phase of trying to encourage Galin to become learned, or educated, or some such sodding nonsense.

He was keenly reminded, now, why he’d never bothered trying to read it in the first place.

“Hand it over, then,” Galin grumbled. He slammed the book shut, not bothering to mark his page since he honestly couldn’t remember the last five to seven pages he’d read in the first place.

The folded up message was a sheet of low quality parchment folded up and held shut with a dollop of blue wax with no seal or insignia to speak of. He flicked the paper open and glanced inside.

In Rael’s neat, tight hand, was the simple message: The Cat is with me. She wouldn’t stop mewling when I tried to go.

Galin sighed, crumbled the note into a ball, and tossed it into the nearby fire.

“Well, bollocks.”

Continued in Chapter Thirteen

---

Bollocks, indeed.

Please send all questions, comments, and critiques to familiarstranger86@gmail.com

---