Beyond the Edge of Dawn (3 page)

“I figured you’d be sneaking out right about now,” Chardis said as he packed his short-stem pipe.

Kavan placed a foot on the first step and eyed Chardis with respect. “It’s easier this way. The folks that don’t want me around can’t complain, and I get where I need to faster. It doesn’t do much for me to sit around and wait for things to happen.”

“That’s no way to live a life, but that’s just my opinion,” Chardis commented. “You’ll be heading for Aradain then?”

Kavan nodded.

“Can’t say as I agree with that. Therdin may have been drunk, but I think he knew what he was saying. Aradain is a troubled land. Some folks say the king has gone mad.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I hope you find what you’re looking for. You’ve done enough to earn that peace already.”

“It’s never enough,” Kavan solemnly replied. “There’s a chance that werebeast was but one of many. If that’s the case, there could be a lot more murders this side of the Spine. Someone needs to do something about it, and right now I figure that is me.”

“You’re an interesting sort, Kavan. I’m glad to have met you. May fortune smile upon you.”

Kavan nodded his thanks. “And you.”

Stepping back onto the road, he let it take him towards what would turn out to be his destiny. Chardis watched him go before heading back inside. He fixed Mun with a stern glare.

“I want you to take that head outside of the village and burn it. No one knows we had it. Am I clear?”

Mun nodded without saying a word.

A Noble Thought

The pristine fields of snow stretched for as far as he could see. Sparse groves of pines and firs peppered the fields and rolling hills. Winter, Kavan decided, was his favorite time of year. Of course he could do without the cold, but a man in his profession wasn’t prone to being choosy. Besides, he’d always figured it was easier to get warm than it was to cool off.

Endless leagues of lightly forested, rolling hills stretched off into the distance, reminding him of just how small one man’s problems can be. Since the fall of Gaimos Kavan had roamed Malweir in search of purpose, meaning. Cold injustice ran like a plague through what were supposed to be the civilized kingdoms. Finding employ was no issue.

He’d been across the face of the world numerous times. A sad part of the life of what few Gaimosians remained. Thoughts of his homeland were forced deep, buried under the thick crust of a hard life few others bore. Kavan had been very young when Gaimos fell but that pain, that irrepressible sense of horror remained with him to this day.

Born hard and toughened continually to the point where Gaimosians became the premier fighting force in all of Malweir, his peers had once been legion. Great companies were employed by neighboring kingdoms to quash petty rebellions or border disputes. Gaimos might have easily conquered the known world, but theirs was a force for good. Very seldom did their Knights ever stray from the path of righteousness. Which, in the end Kavan decided, had led to their downfall.

Was it any wonder why so many kingdoms banded together to rid the world of the power that was Gaimos? Naturally it hadn’t made sense in the thrall of his youth. He was cast out from all he knew. Left to fend against the wolves of the world while the ashes of his people scattered on the cold winter winds. Humbled, and frightened to no small measure, Kavan walked away from what had once been a pristine kingdom, resplendent with statues of great warriors and thinkers alike.

What he found elsewhere left ill flavors swirling on his tongue. Malweir was a corrupt place. Many kingdoms were mired with cruel politicians and half-hearted monarchs. While never hiding his true identity, for the sin of vanity wouldn’t permit such, Kavan took the odd job here and there until his reputation began to grow. It wasn’t long before he was sought after, and with good reason. Gaimosians were the very best at armed combat. Warriors without peer. His blade solved the problems of a great many all while claiming only modest recompense in exchange.

Kavan learned, very early on, that money only went so far. There was no point in hording vast wealth while entire village languished under the yoke of indentured servitude. He took what he needed to get by, always keeping a purse filled, for Gaimosians were without home or land. They roamed the world untethered. The rest he donated to those in greatest need. Selflessness had ever been among his best qualities, almost rival to that of a master swordsman.

His life took on no discernible pattern. As casual and free as the easterly wind just before dawn. He blew from kingdom to kingdom righting old wrongs and preventing new ones. As spiritually satisfying as his occupation was, Kavan often longed for that solitary life he so voraciously defended. Home and hearth were not in his future and truly only faded tatters of imagination from his past.

He often longed for the day when he could finally lay down his sword and take up a family, a home, a stable environment to call his life. Kavan smiled warmly at the thought despite knowing it was far off, if ever. Gaimosians the world over, no one had ever bothered figuring out how few remained, continued on with their existence as if machines. If there was an endpoint, Kavan certainly wasn’t privilege to it. All he knew was the inexorable pull of some faceless hand continued to drag him forward through one horrendous situation after the next.

When the time finally did arrive where he had earned the right to set down his sword, Kavan vowed to never look back. But first purpose must be filled.

He reined in his horse and pulled the round leather canteen from a saddlebag. The cool feeling pouring down his throat was refreshing, almost enough to help him forget the hardships of traveling alone across practically inhospitable terrain. Any simple pleasure taken from witnessing the vast expanse never fully translated to the reality of crossing it. And, even though he bore special fondness for winter, he didn’t relish the idea of marching across an entire kingdom swathed in snow and ice.

Right now he wished for a warm fire and a mug of ale. The rest would sort itself out quickly. Melted snow dampened his boots to the point where he found it difficult to feel his toes no matter how much he wiggled and flexed them. Frowning, he couldn’t help but shiver as the chill crept up through his muscled frame. Kavan made up his mind then and there. It was time for a change.

As much as he relished the thought of sticking around this part of Malweir and continuing his hunt for the werebeasts, he knew that the only true way to defeat them was by going to the source. Kill the host and the plague died. Thoughts swirled like freshly blown snow. Centering on his problem, Kavan recalled his conversation with Therdin.

Aradain. King Eglios. Those two names overpowered his rationale. Was there some hidden connection between the werebeasts and the king of Aradain? Possibly. Anything was possible in this world. But what would Eglios stand to gain from such a...hostile relationship? Kavan failed to figure out any plausible answer aside from the collection of more power. Power, after all, was what made the world spin. He’d long figured that the sun would eat the moon if only it could catch up to it.

Saying, for the moment, that he believed King Eglios had some nefarious purpose in mind, Kavan tried to think of how anyone could come to control such monsters. Malweir had more than it’s fair share of bloodthirsty dragons, demons with a penchant for stealing children, and just plain bad people, but very few had ever been able to control a werebeast population. At least as far as Kavan recalled. That Eglios could do so now suggested he would be in league with a darkness far greater than any the Gaimosian had fought in a very long time.

Such conclusions led him down dark roads he was loath to travel. He was going to need help if there was any chance of succeeding. But who? Where to begin? Halting his horse again, the Vengeance Knight closed his eyes and drew his breath to bare minimums. Liquid fire sparked deep within his blood. Surging. Pulling. Leading him towards the southeast.

His eyes opened with the shock comparable to being struck by a crossbow bolt. Pain intensified through his entire body. He began to sweat. Suddenly exhausted, Kavan slumped in the saddle to the despondent snicker from his horse.

The bond. The blood tie that all Gaimosians shared. He had summoned it in the hopes of finding others to aid in his self-appointed quest. Normally anathema, working together with other Knights was his best and, most likely, only chance for success if the problem was as systemic as Therdin seemed to believe.

Not that Kavan took the drunk’s words for granted. Men like that were always looking to improve their own station at the expense of others. Therdin wouldn’t have divulged such knowledge without the whisper of promise, whether from Kavan or someone else. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the drunk had been put up to it for some personal gain Kavan wasn’t privileged too. It was a sad fact he’d witnessed too many times.

Regardless, Kavan abandoned the wasted thoughts occupying his mind. Therdin was in the past, an already fading dimension not worthy of remembrance. What little he had offered threatened to grow stagnant if Kavan failed to act quick enough.

Southeast.

Kavan glanced across the frozen hills towards the unseen horizons. He knew that imposing mountain ranges lay ahead, filled with rivers and danger. Beyond that was the great Jebel Desert, an endless sea of golden sands filling the middle of Malweir. He reached down to give his horse a reassuring pat on the neck. Having bore him through battle and travel, the steed was as much a part of the knight as his sword.

“Come friend. We must go in search of even older friends. The desert calls,” he whispered.

His horse snickered and began to plod ahead. There was yet many weeks of travel before reaching the near western fringes.

Poor Timing

Hours blended into days. Days into long stretches of seemingly indeterminable time that only a Gaimosian Knight could endure without fracture realities. Kavan and his ever faithful horse continued on, ever east in search of the closest Gaimosians. Deep snow drifts gradually gave way to jagged cliffs and mountain peaks rising high into the clouds.

With only a silent horse for company, Kavan struggled with that ever present, if expertly hidden, desire to rethink old problems. Thoughts of what he might say, how he might react upon reuniting with old friends troubled him to no end. He hadn’t seen another Gaimosian in years, much less the one he had sensed through the bond. While not the warm-hearted friends lesser men might otherwise be, Kavan felt a closeness that could only come from sharing intense moments in death laced combat. To even consider working with his old mentor again after so many years was a conflict of emotions he wasn’t entirely prepared to deal with. Fortunately the weather was able to sooth his aching mind.

Over the course of his travels he’d shed the heavy fur cloaks and now found genuine sweat making his skin clammy. Any grievance of the cold or penetrating winds of deep winter he might have bore were cast aside in favor of new disagreements over the humid nature of the lands bordering the desert. At some point since heading east Kavan came to the conclusion that, though he enjoyed winter most, he didn’t particularly enjoy trudging through six foot high snowdrifts or going leagues out of his way due to the unexpected avalanche.

He rode into the border town shortly before dusk. Already his nerves were on edge. Having been here before, and somewhat loath to repeat the experience, Kavan came in expecting a fight. Not that there was anything special about this out of the way, virtually forgotten part of the world, but he’d been in several just like it and they were all the same. Searching the past, he recalled having to kill two men on his last stay.

No doubt the past was doomed to repeat.

“Folks around here don’t much care for your type,” a grizzled voice snapped as Kavan tethered his horse outside the lone inn.

Winds howled down the road as if answering the challenge.

Kavan’s head dipped slightly and his hand dropped to his sword. This took less time than he expected. “Folks need to mind their own business.”

“Gaimosians seem to draw a crowd. Best you climb back in that saddle and head out, boy.”

Turning, Kavan readied for the inevitable fight. Braggarts were good for little else than skewering with a blade, at least as far as his experience went. No doubt he’d make quick work of this one, provided he wasn’t able to drive him off first. He pulled an inch of his blade free to loosen it.

Three men, all foul looking and ill tempered, were arrayed before him. One was missing an eye, the scars on that side of his face already faded. He was clearly the leader, for the others were almost skittish, as if they understood the truth of what they were attempting. Kavan pitied them. Almost.

“This is your only chance. Walk away now and there won’t be trouble,” he warned, though deep inside he knew they wouldn’t comply.

It was a sad state of the human condition when pride interfered with common sense.

“Three on one is pretty good odds, even ‘gainst one of you.” He spat a wad of partially chewed iron leaf. The acidic flavor poured from his mouth in vapors.

Kavan’s smile was grim, almost sad. “It’s really not.”

He moved, seizing advantage before the others had the chance to react. His sword hissed free, eager to kiss the open air again. The Gaimosian danced with the skill and grace of a venerable warrior. A hand was hacked free. Blood curdling screams followed. A second move and he skewered the man on the right. Blade punched through flesh and bone before twisting and jerking free.

A rope of hot blood splashed on the one eyed man’s boots. He hadn’t the chance to close his mouth from spitting before Kavan’s blade gingerly touched him just below his one good eye. He began to tremble.

“Not wise, friend,” Kavan admonished. “I told you to walk away.”

Rage and fear conflicted in his eyes, but he was wise enough not to speak lest Kavan’s sword drive into his flesh.

Kavan glanced at the man’s partners. The one had died and the other had fallen mercifully silent. His screams reduced to mere whimpers as he clutched at the stump of his arm. Kavan frowned, for there was no more distressing sound than a grown man whimpering.

“See to your friend before he bleeds out.”

He whipped his sword away and back into the scabbard. Disturbed with his actions, the Gaimosian paused before returning to his horse. “Do not let me catch you again. Fate will not be so kind twice.”

Confident that no more would occur, Kavan went about his business. It was only when the growl of an empty stomach stole his attention that he realized he was famished. Room secure, he headed back out in search of a meal. He only made it a few meters before being confronted once more.

“Well, well, I hadn’t expected to see you slumming in this part of the world,” a burly old veteran said with genuine smile.

Kavan returned the smile and finally allowed his defenses to relax, slightly. “Dag! I was sure you’d be dead by now.”

“Death doesn’t want me I’m afraid. But you, from what I hear Lord Death has been stalking you for quite some time.”

The two embraced. Kavan winced from the force of Dag’s slap on the back. His friend may have been older, but he lacked nothing of power.

“What brings you around here?” Dag asked.

Kavan opened his mouth but paused, unsure of what he should say, for the details still weren’t settled in his mind. The confusion laced his eyes, prompting Dag to nod thoughtfully. Ultimately Kavan decided that such a conversation wasn’t for the open street. The pair headed off to the nearest kitchen where the food was overpriced and under flavored. Just the way a man used to always being on the move appreciated. Only after Kavan’s stomach was full and his taste buds left in utter confusion was he ready to tell his tale.

Dag sat through it listening intently. His mouth dropped at the details of Kavan’s battle with the werebeast. In so far as he knew there were no more of the dangerous, virtually mythical creatures, left in the world. For the Gaimosian to have stumbled upon them now whispered dark tidings. Much of the tale became more manageable to accept by the time they reached the bottom of their second pitcher of ale.

“You lead a charmed life,” Dag announced with an exaggerated flourish. Foam peppered his upper lip.

Kavan grinned sheepishly. “Not by choice. It’s hard when you know nothing else.”

Yet another sad fact Dag was all too aware of.

“So you think there’s a connection with the king?”

Did he? “I…I don’t know. There’s been a few other caravans I’ve come across along my way here. Some didn’t know anything, others pretended to know too much. One or two told it true. Whether the king of Aradain is directly involved with the werebeasts remains to be seen but all information points to his kingdom as the launching point.”

“It’s been a long time since I was last in Aradain,” Dag said suggestively.

“No, Dag.”

“No what?”

Kavan set his empty mug down. “Stay away. If this turns out to be half as bad as I think it will Aradain will best be avoided.”

Brows furrowed, eyes drawn together, Dag replied, “I’m a grown man capable of making my own decisions, be they bad or good. Well, more bad than good of late but that’s not the point! You see, I’ve got a good group of people working for me. They watch my back and take care of them. If we want to go to Aradain that’s our business.”

“So you do want to go?”

“Who said that foolishness? We haven’t made up our mind is what I’m telling you. Malweir’s a big world. Plenty of places for a man of my quality to get into a little mischief.”

Indignant, Dag crossed his arms and leaned back into the rickety chair. Rope stretched, threatening to break against his weight. He frowned, silently cursing everything in town for being, well, old.

“Mischief? I seem to recall a night a few years back when you and I were standing up to our ankles in blood and a stack of corpses,” Kavan reminded.

Dag beamed. “Damn straight. That was a tough fight but they just wouldn’t stop attacking.” His face darkened slightly. “We made enough to pay the widows of the boys we lost.”

Kavan caught the attention of a serving maid and signaled for another pitcher. Another drink to honor those who had fallen over the course of his career. The list was long but every name remembered.

“Look, Kavan, if this Aradain business is as tough as you think I don’t understand why you need to get involved. There’s got to be easier jobs throughout the kingdoms. No sense in risky your neck for a cause not your own, at least my mother used to say.”

“I didn’t think you had a mother,” Kavan countered.

“Says the Gaimosian,” Dag glowered. “Why are you really getting involved? This can’t all be from some blind sense of nobility.”

“It’s not. Dag, thus far I’ve killed two of the werebeasts. The last one nearly got me. I’ve seen what just one can do against unprotected civilians. Can you imagine what several can achieve if unleashed on a village? I won’t allow that to happen, so long as it is within my power to prevent it.”

“Honor then,” Dag grumbled. “Don’t make any sense dying for nothing I suppose.”

“No it doesn’t. That’s why I don’t plan on dying.”

“No sane man plans on it, Kavan.”

“As you like to point out, we Gaimosians aren’t known for our sanity.”

Dag nodded sagely in agreement. “Best of luck to you, my friend. Know that if you need me, I’ll be there. Maybe not as fast as I once was, but sooner or later.”

“Thank you, Dag. Your offer means more than you know.”

“I know!” he beamed. “S’what makes me special. Where are you heading to now? Aradain’s the other way last I recalled.”

“Out into the Jebel Desert. I’m going to need help and there are other Knights nearby. Strength in numbers and all that.”

“Good plan. Well, Kavan, I do believe it’s well past my bedtime. I’ll make sure you don’t run in to any other issues getting out of here,” Dag told him. “Until the next time.”

They clasped hands and Kavan watched his friend shuffle through the growing crowd. Once again the Gaimosian was alone with naught but a quest and the strong desire for companionship. Whatever may come, the desert awaited. After that, well, that was anyone’s guess.