All that Glitters (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 1) (21 page)

Barvil saw Sahren and the rest of the traders watching them as they finished. At his half-bow, she came forward. "It is as I suspected. Trader Ahran was after his shipment of—goods—from Elain, but he didn't want to pay. Unfortunately, he wasn't here. He just sent his lackeys and a bunch of dumb muscle after us."

Barvil nodded. "We have honored our dead and collected what few weapons and armor they brought against us. The two wounded—"

"—Are dead. They carried this." She handed over a small purse. "They expected to take us after they overwhelmed you. After all, they had more than twice your number, and it was men against boys."

Barvil let his contempt for that sentiment show by a barely disguised sneer. "I would match boys of my people against his men one on one and not fear for any of them. His men against my men is a laughable notion."

"Agreed," Sahren said with a nod. "We will have food ready soon. I'll send someone for you." She turned away without further comment and went back to her wagon.

"What could be so valuable that a merchant would sacrifice twenty-seven men to steal it?" Barin asked, and others indicated that they also would like to know.

"There are many small, high-value items traded in these lands. I won't ask because it's none of my business, but I'm beginning to suspect that it is not a legal item. Things Madam Elain said and did would make more sense if she is something other than a humble innkeeper."

"If it's dishonorable—" Davel began, but Kahndar silenced him.

"—It is their dishonor, not ours. We took honorable contract with Trader Sahren. If she has taken a dishonorable contract with Madam Elain, then it is to her shame, not ours."

"Absolutely correct, Kahndar," Barvil agreed. "However, we know nothing and I will not seek to find out. I will suggest to Sahren that I be present when she delivers her other consignments. Hopefully it will convince whoever it is that paying beats the alternative."

Everyone quieted and then set about doing the little tasks that ate up hours of their days. Finally, a trader came and told them that the evening meal was ready.

After they had eaten, Barvil stood and surveyed his men. "It is never easy losing comrades like this. The celebration and ceremony that we would normally have after so many kills is blunted by the loss of our friends. Stavin has two more kills, and so does Barin. Chandar has three more kills, as do Horvan and Lavin. Kahndar has two new kills. Davel and Karvik have four each. I claim two. Davel, you've earned your first red stripe. Morning is soon enough to paint your honors."

T
HE CARAVAN CONTINUED ALONG THE ROAD
west, heading toward the mountains that defined the border with Andaria. Trader Sahren had only one more consignment from Madam Elain, and it was at the next stop that she delivered it. Barvil's glowering presence kept the merchant and his men nervously glancing his way, but they gave Sahren no other trouble.

The towns and villages along the road were spaced a day's wagon ride apart close to the center of the kingdom, but grew farther and farther apart as they approached the border. Soon they were spending three and even four nights camped, and Barvil started joining the guard patrols to make up for Cordon and Ivalin's absence.

While the villages were farther apart, the welcome the traders received was all the warmer to make up for it. The warriors drew more attention as well. Other warriors met the caravan in some towns, usually just watching to make sure they were no threat, then returning to other tasks. Sometimes one of the town warriors would approach Barvil, then quickly leave.

In the town of Kel'Graflin's Hold, Barvil tried to sell the wagon and ran into trouble. Several people appeared interested until they got a good look at the wagon. Then they suddenly lost interest and hurried away. Barvil watched the third man hurry away and frowned.

"You'll have a hard time selling that wagon, Barvil," Sahren said as she walked up to his side.

"Why? It's a good wagon. It's nice and sturdy. It's heavy enough to be a beer wagon and big enough to haul hay. Why won't anyone really look at it?" he asked angrily.

"Oh, they looked," she said. "What they saw is something that you don't recognize and I didn't think to point out. You see this mark? The lily? That's the mark of Ahran Fel'Hadar, the merchant who tried to steal Elain's consignment from me. He is a well-known figure in the darker side of trade in Evandia. Unless you can defend it, as you and your men can, he will take it from whoever has it when he sees it next. Given how many men he lost with it, as well as the consignment from Elain, whoever it is will die rather messily."

"Couldn't we remove it?" Kahndar asked, but Sahren shook her head.

"It's magical. It'll just reappear. Things that travel a lot are marked that way." Sahren looked up at the Zel'Vandar crest on her wagon. "We use it as well."

Barvil stared at it for a moment, then shook his head. He muttered, “I wonder how the Council will react to us bringing home a wagon?”

* * *

High Summer was a time of gathering for the people of Kel'Kavin. What was gathered the most was wood. The trees inside the crater had been cut down generations before to make room for farming, and those places that were unsuitable for grain crops were planted with assorted fruit-bearing vines and trees.

Work-parties of fifteen men were sent out of the valley as much as three days' travel away to cut wood and burn it into charcoal before loading it in their wagons to bring back for the winter.

Harner was drafted almost constantly, but he didn't mind. He'd always been told that cutting and hauling wood was a good way to build muscle, and he wanted to present the best possible figure to Barvil when he returned. He was also going to show the Runt what a man was supposed to look like.

On his third trip out of the valley, Harner was watching the passing trees in a light doze when a fist landed on his head. "Wake up, boy. Time to put those muscles of yours to good use," one of the older men said, and Harner quickly scrambled out of the wagon.

"Stop calling me 'boy,' old man. I'm fourteen and old enough to be considered a man," Harner said indignantly.

"You're a man when you've made your first expedition. Until then, you're a boy. It doesn't matter how old you are," the man replied with a sneer.

"I wasn't called. That's no reason to treat me like a child," Harner hissed with his hands balled into fists.

The older man leaned forward so that his face was just a hand from Harner's. "You're a fool, boy, and we all know it. You could have gone. Twenty from a year-group isn't a maximum number. It's just what we normally send. If you were a man you'd have gone anyway."

Harner's fist arched up, striking the man on the chin with enough force to knock any of his friends off their feet, but the man just took a step back and laughed. "Do you think you can prove yourself that way, boy? Do you think I'll shut up because I'm afraid of you?"

Harner advanced again, but stopped dead in his tracks due to the man's fist impacting his nose. That
hurt!
No one had managed to hit him in years, not since he was nine and had started outgrowing all of his year-mates. "You hit me! I'm going to kill you!"

All of the men laughed as Harner charged his attacker only to be hit again. And again. And again. He never landed another blow, but every time he came within arm's reach of the older man he got hit. Hard. And it hurt! And still the men laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" Harner shouted.

"We're laughing at a fool of a boy who needs to learn to shut his flapping mouth and hold his waggling tongue," another of the men said.

"Now start digging the pit to burn the charcoal. We'll be bringing you wood soon enough," the youngest of the men said, smirking at Harner.

* * *

At the town of Zel'Marran, an ancient Imperial-era fortress stood guard over the crossroads that tied the road they were on to the road from the south that led through the mountains and out of the kingdom. The town was relatively large and the caravan was directed off the road to a meadow that served as the town's festival ground.

Sahren had her wagons form their line of booths. This was their northwesternmost stop before turning south, and she expected a good profit from her wares.

Before Barvil could have his men set up their tents, a distinguished-looking older man in the uniform of an Evandian Army General came to see him.

"Good day. I am Lord General Dahral Zel'Fordal. I received a message that Friend of Evandia Stavin Kel'Aniston was with this caravan. Who is he?"

Barvil bowed deeply before he answered. "Friend Stavin is that youth over there in the golden armor, General Zel'Fordal. A moment, please." At the general's nod he whistled and all of his men hurried to his side. "Friend Stavin, this is Lord General Zel'Fordal."

Stavin took a step forward and snapped to attention. "I am honored to meet you, Sir," he said, never taking his eyes off the general's face.

"The king's proclamation of your status only arrived two days ago. I would be pleased to host you and your command in the fort," General Zel'Fordal said with a slight bow. "I'll assign twenty of my men to guard your caravan."

Stavin turned to Barvil and asked, "Sir?" At Barvil's nod, Stavin turned back to the general. "We would be pleased accept your hospitality, General Zel'Fordal."

The general nodded and smiled. "Princess Marina's letter said you were quite young, and under command of an elder of your people."

"Yes, Sir," Stavin answered. "Barvil Kel'Carin, Warleader Second of Kel'Kavin."

The general raised an eyebrow at that and looked Barvil. "As I understand the old code, Warleader Second is only two steps from the very highest rank. Warmaster and Warleader First are the only ranks higher. What are you doing out of your valley riding herd on two hands of youngsters, Elder Kel'Carin?"

Barvil almost grinned. "It was necessary for me to step down as an Elder for a time, General Zel'Fordal. This group contains not only Friend Stavin, but my only son as well. It had also been five years since I last left the valley, and the chance to take Karvik on his first expedition was too tempting to pass up."

"I understand completely," the general said with a smile. "I try to lead at least one patrol a moon myself. Even the mostly luxurious office can be stifling. I'll let you make your arrangements, but I would like to take Friend Stavin with me now, if that's all right?"

Barvil bowed. "Of course, Sir."

"Very good. Come to the fort when you're ready. Friend Stavin, this way, please." The general turned and began walking, and Stavin hurried to match his pace.

The ancient edifice of Zel'Marran loomed above the town from the top of a small hill. Five thousand troops had once called it home. In its heyday it had served as the primary defensive position between the Empire of Luxand and the wild lands, but that time was a thousand years in the past. Now it served the Kings of Evandia against the Kings of Andaria, but it had been three hundred years since an enemy had last stood beneath its walls. Those walls still stood tall and proud, looking as new as they had when Chosen Adepts had spelled the stones in place, yet giving off an air of age that was impossible to ignore.

Sentries at the gate snapped to attention as their general approached. Stavin surveyed them critically and found himself satisfied with their appearance. A little snort of amusement at that thought escaped before he could contain it, and the general turned an inquiring gaze his direction.

"Was there something you wished to say, Friend Stavin?" he asked.

"No, Sir. No. I was just thinking that I approved of your sentries, and it struck me as ridiculous that I might find them lacking in any way."

"And why is that?" the general asked, his voice is taking on an ominous tone.

Stavin stopped and removed his helmet, then pushed his mail hood to the back of his head. "It's funny because I'm only fifteen, Sir, and this is my first trip out of the valley. What business would I have inspecting your troops?"

The general considered Stavin carefully for a moment, then smiled and patted Stavin's shoulder. "You have a point, Friend Stavin. I didn't know you were so young. I had been thinking that you and your Warleader might do exactly that, though."

"I'm sure Barvil, I mean Warleader Kel'Carin, would be pleased to join you, Sir, but I'm not sure it would be appropriate for me to. I'm not experienced enough to be able to properly evaluate them."

"Mary said you showed wisdom beyond your years," the general said half to himself. Seeing Stavin's curious look, he continued, "Princess Marina is my niece. My little sister was Queen Carissa."

Stavin bowed, but didn't say anything as the general began walking again. They went into the inner keep of the fort and Stavin found himself the subject of intense stares and buzzing conversation as they passed through the halls.

General Zel'Fordal led Stavin to a long hall with many doors opening left and right. "Officers' quarters," the general explained and led Stavin to a door. "I've given orders for you and your comrades to be billeted here. If you would care to leave your helm and weapon here, I'll show you around until your people join us."

Stavin quickly did as he was told and left his Dragon's Tongue and gauntlets on the bed, and his helmet on the rack. He braced to attention as soon as he returned to the general's side. "At your service, Sir."

The general led Stavin out to the battlements and gestured out over the valley. "We're primarily an administrative center now, but there was a time when Zel'Marran commanded this entire region. We hunt bandits in the hills and enforce the decrees that come from Twin Bridges, but this has become a quiet post. It's a terrible thing, but I could wish for a little less civilization now and again."

Stavin gave a faint smile. "I understand, Sir. Kel'Kavin and Kavinston are like that. That's one reason anyone can join the expeditions. It lets men like Warleader Kel'Carin get out for some excitement, though this has been a more exciting trip than any of us had planned." Stavin's hand came up to touch his stripes. "Eight kills already and not halfway through."