Beyond the Edge of Dawn (24 page)

Plans within Plans

“I should never have agreed to come along on this damned fool quest,” Geblin growled between gulps of ale. “I’ve near been killed a dozen times over and haven’t stopped looking over my shoulder yet! Now this!”

He pointed at his bandaged ankle. It was sprained worse than they had previously though. Kavan insisted on fixing it properly upon their return to Rantis. To his credit, the Gnome kept his pain silent. He’d never admit it, but the oracle’s words meant more to him than anything he’d ever been told. They gave him renewed purpose, a sense of belonging in a world that had been intent on abandoning him.

Despite all that, he cursed and growled more. “Look at this! I can’t even put a boot on. Just how am I supposed to fight like this?”

Smoldering embers of rage echoed behind his hazel eyes.

Kavan rolled his eyes, lost in thought over the events of the night prior.

“Relax, Geblin,” Aphere chuckled.

Geblin stared her down. “Easy for you to say. I don’t remember seeing so much as a scratch on you…from last night.”

“I’m willing to bet I have more scars than you can imagine. Besides, who says you have to fight? The oracle said each of us was important. He never said how.”

Geblin grimaced and returned to his drink.

Barum entered a short time later. His face was twisted with worry. Fortunately, the common room was empty. People’s attentions were focused on the grand banquet hall, not a handful of misfits keeping to themselves.

“What?” Kavan asked.

“I’ve found Pirneon.”

Aphere leaned in from across the table. “Where?”

“He’s being hailed by the king. Word is he killed a few thieves and is now being considered a hero of the realm.”

“For killing thieves?” Kavan questioned. “That doesn’t sound right. They must be up to some scheme.”

“It seems he’s proclaimed himself the Knight Marshal of Gaimos and come with the intent of relieving Aradain of the werebeasts. I think he means to go to the ruins alone.”

Fear edged Barum’s voice.

“Pah!” Geblin snorted.

“He’ll be killed,” Aphere exclaimed before remembering where she was. “We have to stop him before it’s too late.”

Kavan rapped his knuckles on the table. He regretted getting them involved on this quest. He should have lived up to his title and done this alone. “How? Pirneon is a good man, but he’s stopped listening to reason. He’s changed somehow along the course of our journey. He’s not the man who taught you, Barum. Not any longer.”

Aphere protested. “We have an obligation to protect our own.”

“He abandoned us. Destiny has a place for us all. Ours lies separately.”

They mulled the concept in silence.

Aphere broke the mood and asked, “What’s our next move?”

Kavan shrugged. “I don’t know. The rest of the weapons should be finished tomorrow. That gives us six days until time runs out.”

“The situation isn’t quite as perilous as the desert was,” she replied. She was tired, almost lost. A small part of her wanted to cave now and rejoin Kistan on the shores of Thuil Lake. The loss of the Knight Marshal and his denouncing of her abilities drained on her hope reserves.

Barum looked at her quizzically. “In what way?”

“We know who our enemy is.”

Kavan disagreed. The werebeasts were a convenient scapegoat and surely responsible for multiple deaths, but they had to be controlled. Someone was holding their leash. The question failed to produce answers.

“The monsters have to come from somewhere.”

“Could it be the nexus is already opening? Releasing them into our world?” Aphere asked.

“I don’t see how. The dark gods are supposedly locked away for all eternity.”

“That means they have agents here in Rantis,” Barum said.

“Making our task more difficult,” Kavan added. “We not only have to fight werebeasts but find this agent before it’s too late.”

“I knew it!” Geblin cursed. “You people are going to be the death of me. I need another drink.”

“Speaking of drinks, where is our drunk friend?” Aphere asked. She was anxious to change the subject, lest those demons continued crawling up her spine.

Kavan gave a half-hearted smile. “Passed out in the room, I imagine. There’s no way he can get out.”

“Unless he breaks the door down.”

“Or goes out the window,” Geblin added.

Aphere laughed. “After the other night, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“Damn near had a heart attack,” Kavan said.

They sat and drank for a while longer. Conversations never ranged back to Gessun Thune or the dead. They tried to think of mirth and old times, when all of this was unimaginable. Geblin remained true to form, griping the entire time. In his own way, the Gnome eased tensions. Eventually, all talk faded, and they decided to retire to their rooms. Kavan was about to push away from the table when a dangerous looking man entered.

His demeanor gave the Gaimosian pause. He was a killer. Two more entered behind and took flanking positions. Definitely killers, Kavan decided. He dropped his hand down to his sword and waited as they stalked to him. The first man took a seat across from Kavan and stared hard.

“You the Vengeance Knights?”

Kavan stiffened. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

The leader laughed. “You killed enough of my men for me to know otherwise.”

“Fist,” Aphere exclaimed from the stairwell and reached for her sword.

“Stay your hand, Gaimosian. We didn’t come here for a fight.”

“What do you want then? To taunt us before resuming your bounty?” Kavan asked.

“Nothing of the sort. My name is Pharanx Gorg, captain of the Fist. Yes, we were hired to kill you….”

“Didn’t do a good job of it,” Geblin mocked.

Pharanx bit back on his anger and continued, “But our motives were purely monetary. We’re mercenaries, not assassins. You were just a job. That contract is now absolved.”

Kavan didn’t particularly care. “You’ve come to make nice? Is that it? I can recall killing at least five of your men myself.”

“As I said, we are not assassins. Matters have changed here. My people are being hunted down, killed where they stand. Rantis has become an evil place,” Pharanx explained.

“We know all of this,” Kavan replied. “Do not come to us seeking forgiveness. There is none to be had.”

Pharanx smirked back, finding a sudden liking for the character of the man he’d hunted for weeks. “Perhaps you should let me explain what has transpired since your arrival in Aradain.”

He waited until he had their full attention before continuing.

“There’s no reason for him to be telling us the truth,” Aphere cautioned.

Kavan sat on the small cot, hands in his face, hoping to take away some of the compounding stress. A lifetime of hardship told him it was a futile gesture. “What choice do we have?”

They’d left the common room shortly after the Fist commander finished his tale. Naturally, their first instinct was to discount everything the mercenary said. They’d been mortal enemies until this point. Kavan had his own doubts towards the situation. The tone in Pharanx’s voice and his demeanor whispered truths. Not for the first time during this ill-advised adventure he found himself mired in confusion.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing, Kavan,” she continued. “There is too much intrigue, even for us.”

“I thought you said this was less dangerous than the desert?” he brought up in a lame attempt at humor.

“What I said has little meaning anymore if this Fist is telling the truth. Do you really thing the king is involved?”

Kavan shrugged. “Possibly. Either way, our list of enemies has changed again. The whole of the kingdom may well be in league with this mystery advisor.”

“I wish Pharanx had been able to give a name,” she said.

He forced a laugh. “That would make it too easy.”

She agreed. “What’s our next move?”

“I go to check on the weapons in the morning. You and Barum see what you can learn on the streets. If this plays out right, we’ll ride out to meet with Gorg at dusk. I have the feeling we’re going to need as much help as we can get.”

He bade her good night and retired to his room. Sleep was a long time in coming.

Phirial

Phirial swept the floor in the main showroom with a smile on her face. Thoughts of the dashing Vengeance Knight entertaining her. Her father was in the back, stoking the furnace for the day’s work. Every day was the same grueling process. They started not long after sunup and finished well after dark. She occasionally snuck dreams of a different life but was never able to figure out what it would look like. Working with her father was honest but trying. It definitely made her stronger, a well-balanced woman.

That balance had shifted immeasurably when Kavan strode into their shop. She’d taken an instant liking to his handsomeness. While he was the best-looking man she’d seen, he also had a charming demeanor. She caught herself wondering what was beneath those worn clothes more than once. Every time Nik asked why her cheeks were flushed, she passed it off as heat from the furnace.

Phirial knew today was just another in an endless stream, except for Kavan coming back to check on his order. She’d gone to great lengths to wash her hair and find a dress both appealing and practical for working in the forge. Nik, for his part, knew exactly what she was up to. He remembered being smitten with a young lass on more than one instance before meeting her mother. Happiness was hard to come by in these dark times. His only concern stemmed from her being hurt. He’d lived almost a decade without his lovely wife, and the loss continued to pain him every day. Nik prayed to the gods that they kept her well.

“Come, now, father,” she told him merrily, “Our customers should be here soon.”

He hid his smile. “It’s just another sale, Phirial. There’s nothing special about these blades. Is the front clean?”

“Spotless,” she confirmed.

He could say what he wanted, but she knew the truth. They’d spent more hours on these weapons than any other. It was as if the blades were being forged to serve higher purpose. Phirial was proud of her father’s dedication to his craft. Though Kavan might never say it, she knew he was going to take those blades up to the monster pit and rid Rantis of them once and for all.

Nik nodded once. “Good. Now finish those inventories before they arrive. I expect these people to take their merchandise and leave soon enough, but what I don’t want is to be caught short. There’s two extra sacks of caltrops and about a hundred crossbow bolts in the back.”

“I’ll go and put them by the counter,” Phirial volunteered.

Her father grunted his approval before returning to the forge. Plunging the cast iron poker into the smoldering coal, he figured they would be hot enough to work with by late morning. Nik felt old today. He watched the embers with limited interest. Lethargy settled in. He wasn’t sure why. On the contrary, his life had been going well recently. Demand for his products boomed with the announcement of each hunt. So what was the problem now?

He didn’t have an answer. The question never changed, though. He’d been asking himself the same thing since his wife’s death. None of his success bore meaning. If it hadn’t been for Phirial, he was convinced he would have taken his own life. She was all that was important to him now. Nothing else mattered. If he didn’t have her….

Nik let the thought pass. More important issues consumed him these days. His biggest concern came from the Gaimosians. Until a few days ago, his business had been filled with glory seekers and bounty men. He wasn’t sure what to make of the Gaimosians yet. The old stigma applied. Having so many in Rantis would eventually lead to trouble. He exhaled slowly and went to work. Life was always simpler with a hammer in hand. The Gaimosians would come, take their weapons, and be gone. With any luck, that is.

She knew she was wrong for acting like a smitten teenager hoping for her first kiss. Phirial spent half the morning scolding herself and the other half-stealing peeks out the front window. Nik knew better than to interfere with the affairs of a woman, even one so young as his daughter. Glad her father chose to leave her alone, Phirial grew restless. Where was he? The question burned. She cleaned and cleaned again in frustration. At least her struggling desires produced positive results. She was almost about to give up when she spied Kavan’s confident swagger marching down the street. Less than an hour had passed.

Kavan entered the smith with his casual smile and bowed pleasantly. He tried not to let her see how his eyes drank in her beauty. That would have produced much embarrassment on both sides. No doubt, her father had a sword nearby in the event the knight grew a little too familiar. That particular scenario had played out too many times in the past, and he had no desire to live through it again. Phirial was in her mid-twenties and capable of making her own decisions, or so he hoped.

“Good morning,” he said.

She returned his smile. “Good morning to you, Sir Kavan.”

He winced. “Please, there is no ‘sir.’ I’m just a man, much like your father.”

The bitterness in her smile lessened. “My apologies. Were you able to test your new weapons?”

“We had a fair demonstration, yes.”

“Are they adequate?”

He nodded. “More than adequate. We’re looking forward to seeing the rest of them soon.”

“You and the woman?”

There was no mistaking her meaning. Phirial was jealous of Aphere. Kavan tried to keep from rolling his eyes. This was the last thing he needed. Both were attractive. Where one was innocent and sweet, the other was, well, a trained killer with a seldom-seen vulnerable side. He didn’t have any illusions about Aphere anymore. His feelings had shifted to Phirial. What he didn’t need was any jealous interference that might jeopardize the quest.

“Aphere, yes,” he confirmed. “She is a Gaimosian Knight, as am I.”

“I see.”

Point of fact, she didn’t see, and she was already hard at work on figuring out how to make him hers.

“Is your father in?” Kavan asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation.

“He’s in the back. I’ll fetch him for you.”

He watched her go with new interest. The way her simple dressed hugged her curves was enough to stir the fire in any man. Phirial was truly a lovely woman, one he might even see himself settling down with once this nasty affair was ended. Kavan let his gaze shift to the weapons lining the back wall. Each was exquisitely crafted, the sign of a true master. Nik and his daughter were thoroughly dedicated to their craft, speaking volumes for their work.

Nik emerged, wiping his hands free of the charcoal stain. “Phirial tells me you approve of my work.”

Kavan shook his hand. “Indeed. We’re anxious to get the rest. Your skills are perhaps among the best I’ve seen in all Malweir.”

“Your words honor us.”

“I merely speak the truth,” Kavan replied.

Nik nodded. “The rest of your order is complete. I’ve thrown in a few extras for good measure. I’m guessing you’ll be needing them.”

Kavan produced a small purse and handed it to Phirial. “The money is all there, including a little extra for you having to rush.”

“Thank you,” Phirial chimed in.

They exchanged smiles.

“I don’t suppose you’ll change your mind,” Nik probed.

“It’s much too late for that.”

Nik scrubbed his chin. “Never did have much use for destiny. I’ve always believe men make their own futures.”

“I wish that were so. The gods have other ideas for some of us.”

“You Gaimosians sure are an odd lot. I’ll give you that.”

Kavan stifled his laugh. “Can you blame us? We’ve been to the mouth of the black pit. The enemy rests deep inside in unknown numbers. There is more, however. I think you and Phirial should leave Rantis. It’s no longer safe here.”

“Where would we go?” Phirial asked. She was more startled than anything.

“Anywhere but Rantis. The streets will run with blood, and soon,” he said with reluctance.

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, Nik asked, “What cause would you have in saying that? The hunt is almost upon us. This might be the last one.”

Kavan picked up the hidden meaning immediately. “We didn’t come here for your kingdom. What’s left of my people are scattered across Malweir. There will be no rebirth for Gaimos. I assure you.”

He wanted to say more, wanted to tell them how he believed Eglios might be involved in the plot to free the dark gods. It all sounded ridiculous, even to him. Two months ago, he’d been trying to make an honest living when he’d heard a drunk mention Aradain and monsters. Part of him felt like riding back south to confront that drunk. Kavan sighed. Doing so wouldn’t produce any worthwhile results, though it might make him feel better.

The bigger problem stood before him. He genuinely liked the blacksmith and his daughter. Good people were hard to come by. Malweir was a dangerous world filled with all sort of wicked creatures and bad men. These two deserved a good end to a happy life. If Eglios was, indeed, involved, there would be terrible retribution in Aradain. Few would survive the coming slaughter. Those who did would spend the rest of their lives in slavery.

“How can we be sure? Everyone has heard tales of your kingdom, your bloodthirsty ways. You can’t honestly expect us to believe you have our kingdom’s best interests at heart.”

Kavan was taken back. He hadn’t come expecting to be attacked. Years of solitude helped calm his anger and prevented him from launching into tirade against Nik. After all, the man was a simple blacksmith trying to do what was right for his family. Men like this were usually ignorant of the ways of the big world.

“We came to end the werebeast threat. Nothing more. Besides, not even three Gaimosians can capture an entire kingdom,” he told them. “Although we do have a very precocious Gnome in our midst.”

Even stern Nik chuckled. “Very well. I don’t suppose we have any choice, do we? Your weapons are ready and wrapped up. Take the extra quivers and sacks of caltrops. Werebeasts or soldiers, you’re going to need them.”

Sad as his words were, Kavan felt Nik’s sorrow. Too many innocent people had already died for the crimes of a few. Now, it was all about to happen again.

“Don’t make me regret my decisions,” Nik told him and then returned to his forge.

“If we survive, you will be well compensated,” Kavan assured him.

His words fell on deaf ears.

Phirial waited expectantly. For all of her father’s strong words, her mind was already set. “My father is a proud man. He’s spent many years living with the grief of losing my mother. He just wants what is right for me.”

“I respect that,” Kavan said.

Phirial placed the purse in their moneybox.

“You’re not going to count it?”

“Should I?”

He shook his head.

“Good,” she smiled. “I knew you were an honest man. Would you like some help carrying all of this to your horse?”

“It would be a pleasure,” he replied.

They loaded the packhorse, taking care to cover the weapons with a riding blanket lest the city patrol run across them. Kavan didn’t know how deep the treachery stretched, and he wasn’t about to take chances now — not so close to the end. Six more days were all that remained before the moon ate the sun. She gave the horse a soft pat on the neck.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever see you again,” she asked.

Would she? He didn’t know. He wanted her to. Gods knew that he did. But a romance in the middle of the brewing storm wasn’t the wisest course of action.

Holding the reins, Phirial stepped closer. “You didn’t answer my question. Could it be nerves?”

Kavan swung up into the saddle and took the reins. “In the morning, perhaps I can come and call on you. I haven’t been able to see much of the city I’m fighting for.”

Phirial smiled and went back inside.