The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (13 page)

Vaun stared open-mouthed at the elf, and Rush seemed amused at his friend’s astonishment. “Did you like it?” Vaun nodded dumbly, and Rush giggled. “You look like I just died and came back to life. But don’t worry, I did nothing like that. I have a kind of chameleon ability. I can make my skin and clothing blend into my surroundings, and whatever is behind me shows through. Watch.” Making sure Vaun did as he was told, Rush placed a copper coin on the table and put his hand over it. Vaun stared in amazement as the elf’s hand faded and the coin appeared under it.

The image of the coin blurred, and it shifted as Rush moved his hand back and forth over it. The elven thief brought his hand back to normal, picked up his coin, and rolled it across his knuckles as he sat back down.

Vaun could think of nothing to say, and in confused desperation turned to Dart for a possible explanation. The brown-haired elf sitting next to his cousin took this as a cue to demonstrate his ability and smiled pleasantly. “My gifts aren’t so flamboyant. I have heightened senses. I can understand a conversation whispered from over one hundred paces away, and I can see well at night and for great distances. From four hundred paces I can identify an object, from two hundred I can describe it accurately, and from this close,” he leaned forward so his nose was only inches from Vaun’s, “I can see into the pores of your skin and watch the blood pump through your veins. These gifts aid in tracking, because I can identify signs that are very small and almost invisible at night. Also, such sight helps my archery very much. My sense of smell is strong enough to tell me that everyone in this tavern, particularly Thorne, needs a bath very badly.

“I know my gifts aren’t so wonderful as being able to blend into things, and despite how clever my cousin thinks he is, I can still see him while he uses his talent. I find my abilities quite useful.” The elf sat back in his chair and crossed his arms as if daring anyone to dispute his satisfaction with life.

Vaun sat still, unsure how to react. He understood now how Rush could be such an exceptional thief, and why Dart was touted as one of the best trackers and archers. With these two elves and Thorne, Vaun understood why they’d been chosen for this quest. He hoped that his sword skills could aid the party as well, though he doubted it would be to the same degree.

Drath nudged Vaun good-naturedly. “Don’t worry, Vaun, our three talented companions are not as bizarre as they seem. You’ll get used to them in time. Just remember that they’re here to help you as much as the rest of us.” He took a long drink of ale. “Right now, do you have any more questions about our journey? I assure you we will be as open as we possibly can.” He glared sidelong at Merdel. “Right, Merdel?”

The bearded wizard nodded. “Aye. No more trickery, Vaun.”

Vaun sorted through his list of questions. “How is it Rush and Dart can claim to be adherents to this completely good Great God, yet maintain lives as thieves?”

Rush and Dart both gasped in offended shock. “Thieves?” Rush’s voice was even more high-pitched than usual. “How can you insult us by using such a wretched label?”

When Vaun merely shrugged, as if to say it should be obvious, Dart jumped into the conversation. “We may from time to time relieve others of things that do not belong to us, but we are hardly thieves. We simply do what the Great God gifted us to do. His prohibitions against thievery are for those who do not put their acquired goods to His purposes. We make sure all our acquisitions are made in service to His will, and very often will return them. It’s sort of like a long-term loan. Besides, we confess our actions to Him each night, and through His mercy and grace we are forgiven.” Dart nodded, obviously thinking he’d answered the question.

Vaun decided not to argue a point he believed he could not win. The elf’s explanation seemed a little contrived, but Vaun had no idea how to contradict him. His knowledge of religious matters was far too inadequate. “Drath, tell me about this king.”

“Ah, King Dobry. He is one of the greatest kings of our time; perhaps even all time. He’s Overlord of the Southern Kingdoms, though he’s not fond of the title.”

That sounded strange to Vaun. “Why not?”

“He thinks it gives him more trouble than it’s worth and that he had enough when he was just another king. He more than fills the position, though.”

“How did he become Overlord?”

Thorne leaned forward. “Many years ago, the six Southern Kingdoms joined together to fight off an invasion of the Northern and Western armies. King Dobry suggested a full alliance between the Southern Kingdoms, and he led the combined forces against this Third Great Alliance.

“After the Alliance was defeated, the southern kings decided that the only way to defend against further invasions was to remain united under one ruler. They signed the Great Pact, officially uniting the Southern Kingdoms and making King Dobry and his heirs Overlord. The other kings retain their lands and power, but they are all subject to the will of the Overlord. King Dobry was unwilling to take on such a vast responsibility, but accepted it to prevent bickering and possible bloodshed among the other kings.”

Thorne emptied his tankard and poured himself another full draught. Vaun was struck at how the dwarf’s manner of speech frequently changed when talking history. “The Southern Kingdoms are the only ones that are united in this manner, because the westerners and northerners fight themselves and each other almost as much as they do anyone else. There have been internal rebellions among the Southern Kingdoms and other, smaller wars with outsiders since the Great Pact, but overall King Dobry is liked and his Overlordship has never been openly challenged. In the forty years since this happened, he has earned great respect from both friends and enemies.”

“In any event,” Drath jumped back into the conversation with an annoyed look at Thorne, “he knew of our past exploits, so he commissioned us to make this journey. It’s not officially recognized, but he supports us fully. If we were too open about it, our enemy would know our purpose.”

“It appears he already does.” Merdel shifted umcomfortably. “He sent those men after us, I’m sure of it. He can detect when someone uses a portal, and I know he could’ve identified me easily. We have an old grudge between us, and he knows of my efforts to oppose him, so I’m sure those men were sent to kill us. I’m not completely certain, though. They could’ve been some of his soldiers wandering about looking for a fight, but I doubt it. I don’t like the idea of him knowing about us, but I figured he’d find out eventually.

“He can’t locate us anymore because I set up a spell to block scrying, but he can guess our destination. Hopefully, he doesn’t know about King Dobry’s support; otherwise His Majesty would have trouble. We’ll find out soon enough, for it will only take us about two or three more days to reach his castle on horses, especially Landsby horses.”

“What’s so special about the horses from here?” Vaun’s voice echoed from inside his ale cup.

Drath shifted in his seat and took a drink of his ale. “The Landsbyans have made a culture out of horse breeding. To them, a horse is their way of life. They make quite a fortune from their horses, for people come from all over the world, even from across the Sea of Marin, to buy their horses. They treat the animals almost better than they do each other, and train them especially for speed and long travel.”

Vaun now understood why the corral was so large. He had no idea where this Sea of Marin was but guessed it was far away from the way Drath said the name. He belched quietly, wondering why the faces around him were becoming blurred. He hadn’t drunk that much, for his tankard was still half full. Shrugging, he took a deep drink and asked for more information about their enemy. He didn’t notice Drath pour him more ale from the pitcher.

Merdel answered this next question. “The worst thing about Elak is that he’s power hungry. I remember him mumbling in his sleep about holding all the magic of the world in his hands. He’s also extremely dangerous and unpredictable. We advanced at about the same rate during our apprenticeships, but I’m certain he surpasses me in magical strength now. He probably surpasses most magicians.

“Every man’s capacity for magical energy reaches its peak, which prevents any one mage from becoming overly powerful. It’s a sort of constraint put in place by the Great God. With what Elak’s doing, though, he’s gone beyond every limit I know of. I doubt I could stand against him alone, but I’d do it anyway because he threatens existence itself.”

Vaun absorbed this new information. In an attempt to change from such a gloomy subject, for Merdel sat morosely silent, he asked Drath again about King Dobry, wanting to know how he’d heard of Drath and the others and what they’d done in the past. He swallowed another large mouthful of ale, fuzzily wondering how it was still half full.

“We really haven’t done anything all that spectacular.” The others, from their looks and sharp intakes of breath, appeared to disagree with him. “We’ve had our times when we, usually unknowingly, performed some great deed. But we’ve never been driven by such a noble cause as now. We merely seek the thrill of adventure, and when you keep coming back alive, people begin to talk. Dobry probably heard about us from a number of sources and assumed we were the best qualified to take on the burden.” Drath laughed. “And he guessed we were the only ones crazy enough to accept it in the first place. We were, after all, the ones who told him about it.

“He entrusted us with the safety of two worlds and insisted we find someone from yours to help. I’m not sure why, though Merdel says it helps balance the forces that coexist between our world and yours.” At Merdel’s loud throat clearing, Drath sighed. “
And
he says the Great God wished it, as well.” The tall man rolled his eyes. “At any rate, Dobry will be happy to tell you his own reasons when we get to Bordell, because he wants to meet you. Merdel also says he needs to use the library for some research.”

Drath shrugged at Vaun’s inquiring look. “There’s no telling why Dobry wants to see you, but he’ll probably say something that’ll make you want to swear loyalty to him. He has a way of inspiring men to do anything, and his gentle personality makes him the most popular ruler in the Southern Kingdoms.”

Vaun grinned drunkenly. “You seem to know him pretty well.”

Drath smiled. “Well, I’ve met him once or twice. He also knows my family, which has served him in past troubles.”

Vaun considered that. Drath did have a kind of authoritative air, but Vaun doubted he had any real noble standing. After all, what would a noble, or a noble’s son, be doing wandering the world in search of danger? He’d be too valuable to lose in some crazy adventure. Most likely, his family was one of those that had always been important in the king’s army or as advisors, and the royal line still consulted its old friends in times of trouble. For everyone knows the best advice is given by a friend, not someone who is paid for it.

Vaun contemplated all he’d been told. His head throbbed faintly, and he told himself he needed to stop drinking. But every time he resolved to empty his tankard for the last time, more appeared in it. He was sure he’d finished his ale a few moments ago, but now his cup was almost full again. Shrugging, he continued to drink as his eyes roamed the now-filled tavern.

The place was packed, with several people standing in corners to eat their dinner. The noise from all the talk drowned out the minstrel who’d started playing some time ago. Looking toward one of the windows and seeing dark night outside, Vaun wondered what time it was. That brought to mind another question, and he asked Merdel about the time difference between his world and theirs.

“It’s not really all that different. Our seasons are a bit longer, and we are one ahead of you, as you probably noticed. As far as day to day time goes, the difference is minimal. Our days are a bit longer by about an hour or two, I think.”

The bearded mage shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly. But like I said, the difference is minimal. The Great God set His creations up to be similar, if not exactly the same. Different peoples, different animals, different rules, but all made of a like essence. You won’t be returning home ten years from now, if that’s your concern. When you get back, it will seem as if you spent the time in your own world rather than another. Understand?”

“Aye.” The youth swayed drunkenly. “I had hoped it was something like that. How long are we going to be here in Landsby?”

“As long as it takes to purchase six good horses and more supplies.” Drath refilled his young friend’s tankard again. The tall man hid a smile at how intoxicated they were making Vaun. “Probably a day or two, maybe three. It all depends on how picky I get and the quality of the horses the sellers have left. The really good season for horses is about over.”

Vaun nodded, and thanked Drath for filling his cup. He’d finally emptied it, and he was still thirsty. That’s how he knew he hadn’t drunk very much. He then ran his eyes over the different faces in the room, surprised at how fuzzy they all were. Didn’t the people in this horse town shave at all? The noise had somehow quieted, and many patrons were embarrassingly drunk.

The minstrel raised his voice until he could barely be heard over the din, singing of adventures and battles Vaun had never heard of. He found the tales intriguing, though, and smiled at the way life seemed to flow together. It was almost as if he belonged here, and if he listened closely he would recognize the stories the bard sang as well as everyone else obviously did. When the scrawny fellow launched into a tale of a Swordsman of long ago, Vaun let his mind drift with the words.

Bonded to their swords, Swordsmen were virtually invincible. No one knew the origin of the Swordsman, and no one knew the details of the Bond with his weapon. Only the Great God, Who knew all things, knew that. Mortals only knew that a Swordsman glided into and out of battle, one with his sword. Wizards throughout history had denied any magical qualities to the Swordsman Bond, yet surely only the Great God Himself could have gifted a man with so much skill, though for what purpose remained a mystery.