Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3) Page 6

  ***

  Chapter II

  Captain Aerion Swordbreaker

  Zielona Gora Keep, Barony of Zielona Gora, Duchy of Masov

  20th of Ravin, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  "So," Quinn said, "you sure do know how to make an entrance." He shook his head, "Lady Katarina really put Earl Joris's men to work helping you?" Aerion, Quinn, Nakkiki, and Walker had gathered in Aerion's quarters a day after the return of Ghost Company, since as a Captain, Aerion rated his own quarters. Not that they were much, but the cramped room did give them some privacy to talk freely.

  Aerion shrugged uncomfortably, "Yeah. To be fair, their men were pretty helpful getting everyone settled. I don't think Lord James was very pleased with having to help, but it's not like his people dislike us... just him and his father."

  Walker sneered, "Pair of preening dandies." The irony of his statement wasn't lost on Aerion, given his friend's preference for flamboyant dress.

  Nakkiki rumbled something at Walker and Aerion bit back a smile. He thought he was learning some of the big man's language, and if he was right....

  Walker waited patiently while Quinn cleared his throat. "He, uh, said that a man who dresses like a woman should not poke fun at the clothing of someone else."

  Walker scowled and waved at his tight green hose and blue tunic, "This is fashionable. Besides, I'm not the one wearing a skirt!"

  Aerion gave a chuckle as Nakkiki frowned at Walker. The little man had taunted Nakkiki before for the simple cloth skirt or kilt he wore, even in the bitter cold. Even now, Nakkiki's big belly was bare, yet he showed no signs in the chill quarters of being uncomfortable.

  "Well," Quinn interrupted before Nakkiki finally decided to do something about Walker, "not all of us have clothing made by the Wold. Tell me, does it help?"

  Aerion nodded, "It does, though I felt guilty about it as my men and the refugees suffered." He sighed, "Three of my men will lose toes to frostbite and a couple of those refugees were in bad shape. One of the damned fools ran off at the sight of us, idiot fell in a stream and we had no way to get a fire going to warm him up, not in the gale that hit after we finally caught him."

  "Well, you brought him and the others back," Quinn said.

  "Not just any refugees, either," Walker said excitedly, "Josef's brothers were in the group!"

  Quinn's eyes went wide and Nakkiki gave a broad smile at that, Aerion saw. In truth, Aerion felt proud to have saved his old friend's family... yet he felt bittersweet about it as he wished Josef were here to be reunited with them. "We didn't have much time to talk in all that," Aerion said, to forestall any questions, "and they're getting settled in, but Walker's right, Josef's brothers were the ones leading the caravan, along with a couple of noblemen, though we didn't get their names."

  "Idiots were near death," Walker nodded, "they'd been giving their rations to others, neither of them had eaten in days and they'd even given up their blankets already."

  Quinn shook his head, "They're lucky they survived, but they sound generous, at least."

  Aerion shrugged. After the raid that destroyed his village, he felt more than a little anger at the noblemen who created the situation. Afterward, the Baron of Zielona Gora had unjustly sentenced Aerion to the Traitor's Death to cover up the massacre at Watkowa Village. And while Aerion couldn't deny the strong feelings he felt for Lady Katarina, those feelings didn't extend to other nobles. Lord Jack and his father Lord Theodore seemed decent enough, but the Earl of Olsztyn and his eldest erased whatever good feelings Aerion might have developed towards the nobility.

  And then there's Lord Jarek, he thought darkly. Lord Jarek was Lady Katarina's childhood friend and Aerion couldn't help a spurt of jealousy whenever he saw them together. They simply got along so well and had such a connection in their shared past that Aerion could feel Katarina slipping away. To top it off, Lord Jarek was the brother of the Baron of Zielona Gora and Aerion had heard that he had influenced Lady Katarina to prevent his brother's execution.

  No, Aerion was not a fan of the nobility. If the two young noblemen had given everything to the refugees, well, then it was the least they could do, especially since it was likely that they were at least somewhat responsible for the refugees’ plight.

  "We told Kara about Josef's family," Aerion said. "She doesn't want to go down there in the storm, but she said she'd appreciate it if we would go with her when it clears enough for her and young Josef to go." He felt his eye prickle a bit at the thought. It had been hard enough to tell Josef's brothers about his death. They had wanted details, but Aerion had kept them focused on survival and getting to safety. Once they had arrived, everyone had been too exhausted to do more than find a place to sleep.

  How could he explain it to them that they wouldn't blame him? Aerion still woke late at night, wondering how he could have fought better, smarter, to save his friend. For that matter, how would they take Kara, who was the mother of Josef's son? Aerion felt oddly protective of her, for all the fact that she was three cycles his elder.

  "I'd be honored," Quinn said softly. Aerion kicked himself, then, because he knew that Quinn felt even guiltier about Josef's death. For that matter, when Aerion had led the Norics and Armen away from Southwatch, Quinn and the others had thought he had died... and Quinn had felt guilty about Aerion's death, too. Quinn had been badly injured early in the fight, badly enough that he had barely survived and Aerion knew his friend's shoulder still wasn't fully recovered.

  "Me too," Walker said. Unlike the others, Walker hadn't fought at Southwatch. He had been left behind to guard the horses. He had fought other times, but Aerion knew that his friend wished he had been there to help.

  Nakkiki rumbled something and Quinn gave a slight smile, "The big fellow says that he would like to meet Josef's clan and tell them of their fallen brother's exploits with fighting, drinking, and, uh, women."

  "Women?" Walker asked with a smirk, "I didn't think Josef was that much of a hound."

  Nakkiki rumbled something and Quinn shook his head, "He says that since Josef was such a good man, we should talk him up, that his brothers think he had several women following him around and was a true warrior."

  "I'm not sure that Kara would appreciate that..." Aerion started to say.

  "Wait a minute!" Walker snapped, his high pitched voice irritate. "I don't have several women following me around, neither does Aerion!"

  Nakkiki rumbled something and Quinn burst into laughter while the big man just gave a broad smile. Aerion felt a flush creep up his cheeks as he made sense of what the big islander had said.

  "What?" Walker demanded.

  Aerion looked over at Quinn, who had finally got himself under control, but the former printer's apprentice lost control again. Reluctantly, Aerion spoke, "He, uh, said that I have had a chieftain’s daughter and have the interest of another." He regretted telling his friends about his encounter with Princess Tirianis of the Wold. In truth, he had needed to discuss it with someone to make things a little less muddled, but in hindsight, perhaps discussing it with Walker and Nakkiki was not the best of decisions.

  He flushed deeper as Walker burst into laughter and Quinn fell off his stool laughing. Nakkiki's grin grew even broader.

  "What else?" Walker said finally as he wiped at his eyes. "He pointed at me, right? Was he saying I've got some women chasing me?"

  Aerion looked at Quinn, who just cackled from the floor, holding at his sides, "Uh..."

  To his surprise, Nakkiki spoke up, "You," he said slowly and carefully as he held up one hand, his thumb and finger pinched apart ever so slightly, "tiny little man."

  Walker stared at Nakkiki as Aerion and Quinn began to laugh. The big man joined into their laughter as Walker stared at him, his face alternating between rage and humor. Finally, the shorter man just shook his head and joined in to the laughter. "Damn me… that was well played."

  ***

  Aerion Swordbreaker

  Walker and Nakkiki had left, leaving Aeri
on and Quinn alone and their conversation had turned back to Aerion's spell-woven clothing, a gift of the Wold from his time among them.

  "I don't know why this stuff isn't more common," Aerion said. "I mean, if my whole company was armed and equipped like me..."

  Quinn nodded, "True enough. From what I've learned from Cederic, this kind of thing was much more common under the High Kings. Wizards were more common in general and their creations were more common too."

  "How could we lose this?" Aerion said with frustration. "I mean, it's so useful." His armor had protected him from Grel, even as sorcerously enhanced as the man had been. The underpadding, reinforced by the Wold, had protected him from the cold and kept him warm despite the worst of the wind.

  "We lost so much," Quinn shook his head. "I mean, we lost entire cities, Aerion. Zielona Gora was just a village, Olsztyn used to be the crown jewel of the south, but the Norics burned the city to the ground leaving only the keep a hundred and fifty cycles after the Sundering. In the north... well, Longhaven has been destroyed a dozen times or more by Armen raiders." Aerion bit his lip at that, but mostly because his first impulse was to argue that his people knew plenty about cities falling.

  Quinn snorted, "For that matter, wizardry is hard. Don't tell anyone, but I was experimenting again... something simple, this time, a bowl designed to warm the contents a bit." He shrugged, "I've been studying for months now, Aerion, and it blew apart... and that was a month of solid work!"

  Aerion frowned, "Okay. So it's hard. But still..."

  "Look," Quinn said, his voice impatient, "your shield, your armor, it's all made by the Wold, right?" He reached over and grabbed Aerion's shield and held it up. His fingers traced the patterns worked into the shield's surface. "The Wold are basically immortal..."

  "They can die," Aerion interrupted, not really to argue, but more to point out the distinction. Everyone he told about the Wold seemed to view them as mythical or with an instant distrust, and Aerion felt he should at least defend them from that.

  Quinn waved a hand, "Right, sure, they can but most of them have hundreds or even thousands of cycles to practice their crafts, right?"

  Aerion nodded slowly.

  "So they have a natural way to retain their knowledge," Quinn said. "Same for many Starborn, you all just live longer." Aerion didn't miss the note of bitterness in Quinn's voice. "But more importantly, the Wold and the Viani, they practice the same type of wizardry: High Magic."

  Aerion frowned, "Okay..."

  Quinn pointed at the inlayed patterns in the shield's surface, "Look, see how these all seem to fold into each other, one into the next?"

  Aerion nodded. Quinn reached into his belt pouch and held up a flat stone. "Catch," he said.

  Quinn tossed Aerion the stone and he caught it in one hand. He held up the stone and peered at it with his one eye. Several runes covered either face of the stone, carved with precision, Aerion could tell. The symbols seemed hard for some reason, almost as if their angularity was something beyond what he could see or touch. He stroked the runes with his thumb and bit back a curse as he felt how warm they were.

  "Those," Quinn said with another snort at Aerion's start of surprise, "are dragon runes, part of Dragon Magic. And, yes," he said as Aerion opened his mouth, "it is related to dragons... though I'm not very clear on that. Cederic said the runes are derived from the eldest dragons, but I'm not sure how..." He trailed off as he stared at the stone in Aerion's hands.

  "That," Quinn said, "is the work of five or six days, one rune in eight hours, with seven or eight complete failures."

  "What does it do?" Aerion asked. He didn't look over at his sheathed sword. He recognized the angularity of the runes now, and he thought he remembered someone mentioning dragon runes on the blade. Since he knew now that it was the Starblade and that it was made by Noth, the same wizard who had trained Cederic, it made some sense that Quinn was learning the same form of wizardry.

  "It grows warm," Quinn said with a sigh. "And that only because I put its twin in a fireplace. Three weeks of work and I can make a rock warm."

  Aerion snorted, "That's more useful than you know," he said. "If I had two of these for every man in my company, they could keep their hands warm in their gloves in the coldest of winter."

  Quinn cocked his head, "You know... I hadn't thought of that."

  "Yeah," Aerion shrugged, "but it would take you months to make enough for even a squad, and by then, it'll be spring."

  Quinn shrugged, "Maybe. I'm getting better, a little faster. Give me a few days, let me talk with Cederic. This might be something that he could help me with." Quinn frowned a bit, "For that matter, I could teach you how to do it, if he'd let me."

  Aerion chuckled at that, "Me? A wizard? I somehow doubt it."

  "You laugh, but you're smart enough," Quinn said, "and this is mostly about patience and focus, and I think you've enough of both."

  "I'm a little busy right now," Aerion said, rolling his eyes, "in case you haven't noticed. I'm running a company of soldiers, there's quite a bit to that."

  "See... that is why wizardry has been lost," Quinn said, his voice sharp and his eyes narrowed. "Because people who could learn it get too occupied by the day to day and never bother... and the people who do spend the time die without teaching anyone."

  Aerion winced at the bite in his friend's voice, but he couldn't argue. "Fine," Aerion said after a moment's thought. "If Cederic is okay with you teaching me, I'll put some effort into it." In all reality, he didn't see himself having the time, but the challenge did appeal to him, somewhat. I bet Lord Jarek doesn't know how to do wizardry, Aerion thought to himself.

  Until now, Aerion had been proud of his ability to read and do math, brought about by his mother's stern insistence on his education. Then again, Watkowa Village was one of the few places in the Duchy with a high literacy rate, mostly because they had the lifespans to learn and enjoy such things. Not for the first time, he wondered if anyone had managed to save the town's small collection of books.

  The thought of studying wizardry intimidated him quite a bit, though. Aerion didn't think of himself as smart. Wizards, in all the legends and stories, were incredibly smart.

  Quinn seemed to enjoy Aerion's introspection. "See," he said with a nod, "that's your first lesson."

  Aerion just narrowed his one eye and lowered his eyebrows, "Try that all-knowledgeable track with me again and I'll go a few bouts with you with practice blades."

  Quinn didn't seem to have an answer for that.

  ***

  The wind still howled outside, but Aerion had grown tired of being cooped in his room, and especially tired of Walker bickering with Quinn and Nakkiki. While the big man had not said anything else in their language, he had responded to several of Walker's jabs in his own. For that matter, even Quinn had snapped at Walker's continued commentary, to the point that Aerion had kicked them all out.

  He had found his way to the keep's library, some of his thoughts settled on Quinn's words about history. The library was one of the few rooms in the keep that wasn't crowded. The big fireplace was empty and without it, the broad windows that let in light had also made the room icy cold. Aerion wandered through the bookshelves, staring at the spines of books, mostly just enjoying the quiet, but also finding some interest in the collection of books. The library was an odd layout. Clearly it had been expanded, over the years, with walls taken down as it grew, taking over other rooms of the keep, leaving odd nooks and crannies off of the otherwise large and open chamber. It felt oddly peaceful and private and that last part was the most treasured aspect.

  He had never enjoyed reading for its own sake, he could admit as he ducked into a low chamber, what might have once been a servant's quarters or even a large closet, but now had shelves with leather-bound books. While he enjoyed learning, it wasn't something he was passionate about. Right now, though, the thought of quietly reading a book for a few hours appealed to him immensely, just for the thought of being alo
ne.

  Aerion looked along the nearest shelf and felt his eyebrows lift as the titles caught his eye. It seemed the library had an entire section of books dedicated to the history of the Ryft Peaks and the ruined Kingdom of Pacenair. He reached out and pulled one of the smaller books from the shelf and blew the dust off of it before he examined it.

  Clearly this wasn't a topic of much recent interest, though he could tell that this book was well-worn, the parchment of the pages creased. Worn, but well-treated, for it was in good shape, despite obvious signs of age.

  Aerion settled his back against the wall and slid down so that he was seated on the floor, just enough light came in from the main library that he could read, but he was hidden away, where he needn't worry that anyone might find him. He felt a bit of guilt at that, but he consoled himself with the thought that he wasn't exactly hiding. As far as he knew, no one would be looking for him, anyway...

  Before he even opened the book, he treasured the quiet for a moment. He hadn't really been alone since his return from the Eastwood. The weeks spent travelling had felt oddly refreshing and he missed the quiet and the simple nature of that time. He had reported to no one and had time to think about the important things.

  Aerion opened the book and smiled a bit as he read the first bit. It was an introduction to the myths of Pacenair, "The Fabled City of Dragons." It cautioned the reader that though many ruins had been found and numerous adventures had been had in the Ryft Peaks, there was no solid evidence that the city had ever existed. The author warned readers that few of those who went into the Ryft Peaks ever returned and that even in the peak of the High Kings reign, the Ryft Peaks had been a dangerous and treacherous place, which was why they had built the Ryftguard to bypass mountain travel entirely.

  It amused him more than a little to read what outsiders thought of his home. He acknowledged that the weather could be hostile and the Norics were always a threat, but he would always think of Watkowa Village and the area around it as his home. He was born there, raised there, and ancestors willing, one day he would die and be laid to rest there.