He bowed gracefully to the shaken and still frightened smith who obviously was afraid to move even an inch.
“You are perfectly safe, my friend. Calyx will not harm you now.”
Calyx moved gracefully over to the side of his companion and placed one giant paw on top of the fallen attacker. He rolled him onto his back and put his face close up to Martos as the wounded man regained consciousness. Upon opening his eyes and seeing only the huge face of Calyx, Marto shrieked and tried to push himself backwards despite the broken leg, passing out once again.
Trevor had regained his composure by this time, and he waited as Marto opened his eyes once more and frantically looked around him. He caught the eye of Cairn who was smiling subtly with his arms folded across his chest.
“I do not think you should try to get up, even if you could. My friend here is not often generous toward those who wish me harm,” Cairn spoke softly. “Perhaps you should help this fellow back to town, Trevor. Or, maybe not. Why don’t we leave him here with Calyx while you and I go to town and fetch some help?”
Marto shook his head so quickly and violently, indicating that he did not think that would be such a good idea, that Cairn and Trevor laughed.
“I do nay think he will be so likely to bother you again, sir Cairn. If’n his leg did nay stop him, by the look on his mug, he be certain that your friend there would.”
“I tend to agree with you, Goodman Trevor,” Cairn replied with a grin.
“My cottage is nay far from here. Would you care to come back and have a warm cup of cider and get some good rest?” he asked.
“It would be my pleasure, Trevor. But what of this one over here?” he asked, pointing to Marto.
“Let ‘im sit tight for a bit. His ‘friend’ will come back sooner or later, as least to see if’n he is alive or nay,” Trevor replied, winking at Cairn. “Come, you must be weary from the greeting our townspeople have given you.”
Trevor led the way through the brambles to a narrow path beyond, and Cairn and Calyx gratefully followed him, confident that this man’s intentions were noble.
Chapter Seven
Baladar gazed out of the tower windows, scanning the horizon with both his eyes and his mind. His body sizzled with a quiet anticipation, and yet he could not calm the ever-present anxiety that wrestled with his soul. The pieces were falling into place, or so it seemed. The boy, Davmiran, was under his protection at last. Although still a child, he bore within him the seed of the future. He was the last great hope that the world had left, and Baladar would give his very life to nurture, support and enhance this hope.
Baladar could sense the coming of his friends. He could also sense the evil lurking in the background, just beyond his comprehension and ability to pinpoint it. It was surely there, nevertheless, and it was not going to go away by itself. He had seen its face and the memory thereof was permanently inscribed upon his consciousness.
His friends were quite competent and they were more than able to deal with whatever might come between them and their mission, but Baladar harbored misgivings nonetheless, for only a fool would not recognize the threat of a formidable foe just because its presence was not physically manifesting itself at the time. He knew that his vigilance was probably more important now that the boy was with him than it was before he even had him under his protective wing. Word would spread of his existence and his location. The spells that he cast upon Dav were strong ones and they would serve to shelter his essence from detection to a certain extent. Common people, people without magic, would continue to be innocent of the fact of his existence.
Baladar was no fool though, and he was well aware that the forces opposed to him and the boy were crafty, strong beyond measure and devious. The Evil One would eventually discover who was protecting him and where he was being kept. It would take considerable effort and a long, long time, but so would the preparation. The battle lines were drawn ages ago, and it was only a matter of time before both sides would have to meet and confront the dichotomy. Only one force could and would emerge victorious, and Baladar was going to give every advantage to the side of life and goodness that he had fought on for so long, with all of the energy that he had.
As the sun set over the turrets of the castle, swathing the entire room in a crimson shower of broken light, Baladar pulled his cloak around his shoulders and prepared to leave. He wanted to arrive at his destination before the moon rose over the mountains, and he needed to return before sunrise the next. While strapping his sword to his belt, he hurried over to the chest in the far corner and spoke the words of power that would activate the mechanism allowing him to open the ancient wooden box.
The latch sprung with a whooshing sound, like a balloon being quickly deflated by a pin prick, and the rim where the cover meets the bottom portion began to glow and sparkle ever so slightly. Baladar was accustomed to the reaction and paid it no mind. He pressed the two concealed buttons under the handles mounted on either side of the chest and then waited the full ten seconds required before lifting the top. With little effort, he raised the lid of oak, burnished and shining as brightly now as polished steel.
Kneeling down in front of the box, he retrieved the small dagger from the tray suspended across the back of the box, the hilt of which harbored a ruby the size of a robin’s egg and secured to the handle by a web of woven platinum and gold. He cradled the weapon in his palm, and he felt the warmth of the stone and the power it generated immediately upon its contact with his skin. Baladar placed it carefully within the folds of his cloak and the nourishing heat penetrated his body.
As if in a trance, without needing to look, the Lord of Pardatha reached into the far left-hand corner and picked up a small, square black velvet box. It had no marks of closure and no apparent cover, yet Baladar knew very well how to open it. He had been waiting untold years in order to do so and only now was he able to. From his pouch of gems in his pocket, he loosened the drawstring and took out the white diamond. It sparkled with an awesome beauty, as if alive with hope and joy, and if he could ascribe human emotion to such an inanimate object, he would have believed it to be as expectant and excited as was he.
Placing the stone atop the velvet box and humming a deep and resonant note in just the right key, he sat down awestruck and witnessed what he had never even anticipated. The white stone glowed with power. As if melting, yet clearly maintaining its shape, it enveloped the box in tendrils of white light, so very beautiful to behold. The black velvet shimmered under the diamond web and then vanished as if it had never been there to begin with.
Baladar focused his vision upon the stone as best he could, considering the brightness of the light, and he began to discern the clear shape of a ring suspended within it. It twirled and spun like a coin flipped by a child upon a table. Spinning faster and faster, the light from the ring filled the entire room with a dizzying, almost nauseating whiteness. As quickly as it reached its peak, the light abruptly vanished as the diamond and the ring fell to the stone floor, clattering and jingling. The velvet box was gone. Baladar retrieved the stone and returned it to the pouch.
Fingers trembling, he deferentially picked up the glowing band of gold between his thumb and forefinger and held it aloft before his eyes. Ancient runes covered the ring, inside and out, most of which were not quite discernible to the naked eye,but he recognized a symbol here and there, as he examined it with care. It was warm to the touch and remarkably beautiful! He removed a thin, gold chain from around his own neck, slipped the ring over it and secured it once again, and although seemingly weightless, Baladar felt and sensed its presence against the skin of his chest. He hurriedly returned the implements of his work to whence they had come and left the chamber. Purposefully he scurried down the narrow, winding stairway from his tower room.
Upon emerging from the stairwell into the great hall, he was confronted by members of the court who had no idea of what was unfolding right within their midst. The mundane tasks of running a large city seemed so far away and unimportant at the moment, yet no one else here was cognizant of that fact.
“My Lord, would you be so good as to sign this document? It has been sitting upon my desk for three days now and the families involved need to partition the land before the winter rains wash the markers we set away,” the clerk of the 1st court said, thrusting a quill pen and a paper in front of him.
“I am sorry, my friend, but I have no time now. Perhaps later this evening. Or even better, bright and early tomorrow morning. I have some business to attend to now.”
Baladar dismissed him politely though abruptly, and rushed through the crowd gathered in the great hall, perfunctorily responding to those who would take no less than some kind of acknowledgment.
I should have found a better way out of here
, he thought, not realizing the time of day and just how crowded the grounds of the castle would be now.
Immediately in front of him, the door to the courtyard loomed, and in only a short time now he would be on his way.
Pushing the great oaken slab unassisted was a real test of strength, but not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, he did not call for aid. As it opened and he was about to take his first step into the passage just ahead, he felt a strong hand upon his shoulder.
“Forgive me, my Lord Baladar,” the deep and resonant voice he recognized immediately said. “I must detain you from your obviously pressing calling for just a moment. A matter of importance, if you please.”
“Yes, Darrel, what is it? I am late for an appointment with the new gelding in the outer stable. Before the sun sets, I promised the trainer that I would attempt a riding.”
“Oh, I see. I will not keep you for too long then. But, I understand that we have a guest in the castle!”
Baladar’s heart leapt at the last remark.
How could Darrel know? This will change my plan. It’s too soon.
“Who is that you speak of, my friend? I know of no such person. Was I not informed?”
“Ah, and could it be that you have not heard yet? I thought for sure he was here at your invitation?”
“Who?” Baladar’s heart pounded.
Darrel smiled, looking like the cat who got the mouse, so proud for knowing something before his Lord did. Perhaps he did not in fact know of the boy, and some other person of significance had coincidentally arrived concurrently.
“See for yourself. You need only to turn around,” he replied rather smugly under his breath.
Baladar turned and took in the sight of someone he never dreamed would have had the courage to enter his city.
“Baladar, my Lord and liege,” the man said bowing low before him. “It is so good to see you once again. After such a long absence, I would have thought for sure that you would have prepared a welcoming for me.” The dark haired nobleman made a disapproving sound, “Such a disappointment. But, I do forgive you, with the mundane affairs of state keeping you so busy all the time, I am sure you simply forgot that I was coming.”
Baladar was so taken aback, his feelings awash with conflicting emotions; relief that his secret was not exposed, trepidation at the arrival of his rival, the Duke of Talamar’s heir, at such an inopportune moment, and extreme wariness at the concurrence of the two matters.
Kettin Dumas, son of the proprietor of the southern reaches, sly and not to be trusted, flashed an insincere and toothy smile at Baladar.
“My father sends his fondest wishes and hopes that you are in good health, both body and mind. His only regret is that he himself could not be here at this time. Pressing matters keep him occupied at home, as I am sure you can well understand,” he said, as if he shared a monumental secret with his father that he was unwilling to fully reveal.
Kettin never seemed to say what he meant. His inflections of speech could not help but lead one to believe that his seemingly simple words had far deeper meanings than they originally indicated. Whether warranted or not, he aroused suspicion and doubts even as he spoke.
“I welcome your presence at any time, Kettin Dumas, although I have to admit that my aides have been remiss in not informing me of your intended visit. How could they have been so irresponsible? Surely you will forgive me and kindly not humiliate me by conveying to your father my embarrassing yet truly innocent and regretful lack of preparation for your coming. I would be mortified if the Duke should learn of my faux pas.”
Choking on his words, he fervently hoped the insincerity was not too obvious to those present. He was not afraid that the Duke’s son would recognize his affectation. Kettin was not astute enough to sense anything subtle. But he certainly did not need to enter into a lengthy and wasteful argument with his southern ‘ally’ over etiquette at this moment.
“Come, Kettin, embrace me and enter my court as a welcome guest.”
With that, Kettin moved the few paces required to reach Baladar’s side, and with as little physical contact as possible, hugged him as if he were infected with the trecco virus itself. Upon contact with Baladar, Kettin noticeably jumped back a pace. His expression changed from one of casual discomfort to one of startled fear. He looked at Baladar askew and then abruptly attempted to regain his composure.
“I could have sworn that something just shocked me, yet I know that I am not that unwelcome here Baladar. You are surely charged with energy this evening. It is in the air. I can feel it. I hope my arrival is not untimely?” he responded, looking around the court.
Kettin immediately regretted having uttered such a suspicion, but Baladar could not help but notice a flash of fear in the young man’s eyes, coupled with his usual mistrust.
“I must have been imagining it.” He quickly shrugged as if it was nothing, yet his cautious look betrayed to Baladar more than he wished at the moment.
“I have no idea what it could have been. A storm may be forming upon the horizon,” he said, glancing at the darkening western sky, “or perhaps you’re just tired from your journey and a relaxing bath and good dinner will calm your nerves. Please, aides! Come and relieve this young and tired Lord of his cloak. Sit, Kettin, sit and have some warm cider mulled from our own trees by the maidens of Balbor. That should certainly settle your nerves and put you at ease. The hour is growing late and you are clearly weary from your journey.”
He momentarily contemplated slipping a sleep draught of nightspark into the drink so as to relieve himself of this troublesome development at such an odious moment. Of course, he knew such an action was impossible, as the young Lord would surely know in the morning that he had been the victim of foul play, but the thought lingered longer than it probably should have.
Kettin sensed the ring and that was dangerous beyond belief. He could not have known what it was he sensed, yet the fact that the token of power was emanating so clearly caused great concern. Moreover, the power rejected his touch and reacted in a negative way to his proximity. That bespoke more against Kettin than any feeling Baladar could have had about his neighbor’s ungentle son.
The timing of the Duke’s son’s arrival could not be mere coincidence.
Beware!
it spoke to Baladar in its own subtle fashion.
Beware of the darkness approaching.
A chill ran down his spine, as he attempted to calm himself amidst his growing consternation.
“Kettin, please relax. I must arrange for your comfort while you are with us. And by the way, how long do you plan on gracing my home with your noble presence?”
“Ah, my Lord Baladar,” he replied as he drew him aside and away from the ears of others. “Your warm welcome is so gratifying after my long traipse through the barrens that perhaps I will remain for a while. You and I have much to discuss. My father, the Duke, has sent me as an envoy in his stead as his health is recently questionable, something I dared not repeat earlier in common company. Who knows what advantage someone might take with that knowledge under his hat, and with his only heir away from his side and relatively unprotected. Well, you can definitely understand my concerns. Nevertheless, there are developments in the east that need our attention, and whom could he trust other than me to be his proponent in such delicate matters?”