Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (40 page)

“Zambon.”

The guard stopped his horse and slowly turned his head back to look at Justan. “Yes, Sir Edge?”

Justan winced at the way the guard used his new name with such ease. He unconsciously covered the back of his right hand with his left. Not that it mattered. The fingerless gloves he wore covered his naming runes anyway.

 “Look, we need to stop and talk for a moment,” Justan said. The others looked at him curiously and Justan swallowed. “We need to discuss what we're going to do when we get to Sampo.”

“Are you sure that it's wise to stop this close to the school?” Zambon asked, though he really didn't sound as if he cared one way or the other.

“He's right,” Qyxal pointed out. “Most likely, no one will notice that we are gone until morning, but things don't always go as planned.”

Justan nodded.
Of course.
He knew that. “You are right. We should all be as far away from the school as possible by morning . . . So let's talk as we ride.”

The road was just wide enough for the three of them to ride abreast of each other. Justan rode in the middle so that he could better hear the both of them. Gwyrtha’s sleek frame was a foot or so shorter than the two warhorses and Justan would have to look up at his companions as they conferred.

To his surprise, Qyxal and Zambon didn't say anything. They looked at him and waited for him to speak. It struck Justan that he had automatically assumed the leadership role and he realized just how odd that really was. Justan was the least experienced of the group. Zambon was an academy graduate, a seasoned warrior, and the one who knew the land they were traveling the best. Qyxal on the other hand was the oldest of the three and far more experienced in magic and survival.

Sure he was named, but the circumstances surrounding his naming were dubious at best. In truth he was a mere apprentice student. Suddenly he felt silly for taking charge. He hoped that he hadn’t offended the others.

“Um . . .” Justan cleared his throat. “Look . . . I suppose that we need to decide who is going to be in charge on this journey.” His companions gave him puzzled looks. “I mean, Master Valtrek said for us to listen to Zambon because he knows what has been going on outside of the school and all.”

His two companions looked at each other and shook their heads.

Qyxal chuckled. “Don't worry, Sir Edge. You have proven yourself. I for one will follow your lead.”

“He's right, Sir Edge.” A slight smile crossed Zambon's face for the first time since they left the school. “As Valtrek said, it's your quest.”

Justan’s feelings were mixed. On one hand, he was glad to have their respect, but on the other, he was still uncomfortable with their use of his new name. He was about to say something about it too, but Zambon wasn't finished.

“Besides,” Zambon's face was dark again. “I won't be with you for the entire journey.”

Justan’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I am going to be leaving you just after we pass Dremald.”

“Is this about the Princess?” Justan asked in surprise, wondering if the guard was still depressed about how his brief fling with the princess had ended.

“Elise? No. Though . . .” A far off look strayed into his eyes for just a moment, but Justan heard the squeak of leather as Zambon clenched the reigns in his fists, and the look was crushed. “No, the thing is that I have not heard from my family in quite some time. I was really becoming worried a couple of days ago when a new guard came in from the academy. He had heard rumors of a goblinoids raiding villages in the
Trafalgan
Mountains
. My family lives there.”

“Oh.” Now Justan understood why his friend had been acting so strange.

“I don’t usually fear for their well-being. After all, my father is one of the greatest warriors in the history of the academy. He can handle just about anything that could endanger them.”

“Your father?
Wait a minute . . .” Justan noticed for the first time that there was something familiar about Zambon’s features. It was like a memory from his childhood. A memory of someone he had truly respected.

“Did your father work with mine?”

“Most surely,” Zambon said. “But father didn’t talk of academy business when he was at home.”

Justan’s jaw dropped. “Is your father Tamboor the Fearless?”

The guard nodded.

“I can’t believe it!”

“Who is Tamboor the Fearless?” Qyxal asked.

“Before he retired, Tamboor the Fearless was the most respected warrior in the Sword Wielders guild. He was the only one there that had ever defeated my father,” Justan he looked back up at Zambon. “I am sorry that your family is in danger, but with Tamboor the Fearless watching out for them surely there's no need to worry. I am sure that your family is fine.”

“Normally I would agree. But when I asked the guard about the town that they live in, he said that the whole region had been overrun by goblinoids and that no one had heard from any of the townspeople in that area since the attacks began.”

“I'm sorry.” Justan reached up and placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “If anyone could survive an attack like that, your father could. They are probably just hiding out.”

“I can only hope you're right.”

Qyxal spoke up. “I suppose this means that we should hurry on to Dremald so that you can join with your family as soon as possible.”

Justan nodded. “He's right. Is there any reason for us to stop in Sampo?”

“Not really. With the provisions Valtrek gave us, we should be able to make it almost all the way to Dremald without stopping.” Zambon said, and a fire started to burn in his eyes. “Perhaps I will get there in time to help my family. If not, at least there will be some goblinoids to kill.”

“Would you like us to come along with you?” Justan asked. It would be quite a bit out of the way for his journey, but he knew that if his family were in such danger, he would want all of the help that he could get.

“No, Sir Edge. You already have your quest. This is mine and mine alone.” Zambon's posture relayed that he would not be persuaded otherwise.

“He’s right, Sir Edge.” Qyxal said. “We need to get to Master Coal’s. Those were the professor’s instructions.”

“Okay, okay. Both of you please listen to me.” Justan said. “I appreciate the respect and everything, but please don't call me Edge or 'Sir Edge' or anything else close to that for the rest of this journey. First of all, someone might hear you, and if anyone finds out about my naming, it can only cause trouble. Secondly, it just makes me uncomfortable.”

“But that is who you are.” Qyxal countered. “The Bowl of Souls is never wrong.”

“No it’s not me. Not yet . . . At least I don't think so.” Justan thought for a moment. “All I know is that I'm not comfortable with it yet. Not until I feel like I deserve it. So, please, for now, call me Justan.”

Reluctantly, his two companions nodded.

“Okay then. It's decided. We travel straight to Dremald. I suppose that it doesn’t really make much of a difference. We wouldn’t be able to stay at an inn in Sampo with Gwyrtha anyway.”

Qyxal agreed. “It is strange enough for two humans to be seen traveling with an elf without having a rogue horse along with us. She would make a very loud impression on anyone who saw her and the humans in Sampo aren’t exactly trusting sorts. I expect that we would have everyone eying us with blades drawn the entire time we were there.”

Zambon spoke up. “I suggest that we leave the road well before we get there so as to avoid notice. We should travel around the outskirts of the city if possible.”

“We should do our best to stay inconspicuous throughout our journey,” Qyxal said. “I would probably suggest it even if we were sure that the
Mage
School
wasn’t searching for us. Anyone who draws a lot of attention is also bound to draw trouble along with it.”

 “With all of the excitement, I really hadn't given much thought to that. I don’t like it. That means that we won’t be able to travel on the road most of the time and that will slow us down quite a bit.” Justan thought for a moment. “I suppose that we don't really have a specific time that we are supposed to arrive with Master Coal, but I had hoped to get there as soon as possible so that we could beat the heavy winter weather. And now with Zambon’s family in peril, any delay seems unacceptable.”

“Don't forget that towns will be the best places to glean the latest news for our journey,” Zambon said. “Going into any area unprepared could slow us down far more than traveling off of the road. I have been more in touch with current events than you have, but I still know little of what has been going on in the land beyond the regular news from the academy.”

“Then Qyxal will need to stay with Gwyrtha away from any town we need to enter, while Zambon or I gather the information.” Justan said.

“Then perhaps it would be best if I went into Sampo instead of avoiding the city altogether,” Zambon said. “I know a few people there and I might be able to learn some information that will be useful.”

“I can go with you.”

“I don’t think so, Justan.” Zambon shook his head. “Any wizards that come after us will come to Sampo first looking for someone that fits your description. Maybe you can come with me at the next town.”

Justan grumbled. So much for letting him
be
in charge.

They traveled for a moment in silence then Qyxal spoke.

“Zambon?”

The guard grunted.

“With your family in such great danger, you have been moving very slowly, almost as if you didn’t care how soon you arrive. May I ask why?”

Justan was shocked at Qyxal’s bluntness, but Zambon didn’t seem to be offended.

“Even though logic says that there is still hope, somewhere inside of me I know that the fate of my family has already been decided. My heart tells me that what I am doing now doesn’t really matter.”

“Still,” Justan said. “You must have some kernel of hope or you wouldn’t be undertaking this journey.”

Chapter Twenty Six

 Five miles outside of Sampo, the company split. Justan and Qyxal left the main road, while Zambon continued into town by himself to gather what information he could. 

Having been raised in the forests, Qyxal was a surefooted and excellent woodsman and by the time the sun peeked over the horizon, Justan and Qyxal were already skirting the eastern edges of the city. They tried to keep Gwyrtha in the safety of the trees as much as possible.

During the few times when they were forced to cross through the outlying settlements of Sampo, they made sure that they didn't disturb the people whose land they crossed. There were a few times when Justan had to rein Gwyrtha in as she contemplated people's livestock with hungry eyes, but other than that she was well behaved and they completed their circuit around the city without incident.

As planned, they stopped about a mile outside of the city and Justan was about to go down to the road to watch for Zambon when Qyxal objected.

“I think that I should be the one to meet Zambon.”

“That isn’t what we agreed upon.” Justan said.

“Well, since then I have recalled a time when you lost yourself in a forest full of moonrats.” Justan frowned at the jab and Qyxal smiled playfully. “Besides, I haven’t walked the woods alone in quite some time.”

“But you yourself said that if the humans of Sampo saw you, it could cause us trouble.”

“I am an elf. This is the forest. I won’t be seen unless I want to be.”

Justan shook his head as Qyxal vanished into the trees. He scratched Gwyrtha behind her horse-like ears. “I need him to teach me how to do that.”

Justan and Gwyrtha waited with Stanza in a small clearing full of rocks and fallen leaves. He busied himself brushing out Gwyrtha’s mane, munched on some trail bread, and then sat on a boulder and thought about the journey ahead.