Dreams of Darkness Rising (62 page)

The pair glanced at him and then returned to their conversation.

Aldred slipped two silver sovereigns out of his purse, feeling a touch foolish. The Incandian immediately turned to him.

“Sorry, pal, didn’t quite make that out. Who was it you wished to see?” he said in a voice as deep as the ocean.

“Agnes. Or Kulkan.”

To his relief the Incandian took the coins in his ebony hand. The Thetorian could feel the heat coming from his grasp.

“They’re down here, I’ll take you over.”

He heard the dwarf before he saw him. The midget was covered from head to toe in tattoos and was busy threatening a Thetorian fire-eater. He looked up as the Incandian approached.

“You the one that Livor sent? Did—did you just say I was tiny?”

“I—I, no I didn’t,” Aldred said in confusion.

A corpulent woman with a massive bushy beard stepped out from the shade of a willow. Her shoulders were glowing red from the sun and she was sweating like a horse.

“Kulkan, give it a rest. Lord Livor said you might come see us, my sweet. Thought you’d be interested in some of our tales.”

“Aye. What we saw in Silverton. Because if you called me a pee-wee I’d slap you so hard you’d be crapping teeth,” Kulkan said.

Aldred ignored the dwarf and said to Agnes, “He told me you’d seen some Knights of the Air near Silverton. When was that?”

Agnes scratched her beard and Aldred, taking his cue, slipped some silver from his purse again.

“We was camping near Silverton a few weeks ago, mid Blossomstide. Exiki has his annual fayre then and though he only likes the pretty boys from Kokis the townsfolk like a more traditional show.

“Anyhow the mists were down from the Silver Hills and we was having a cheeky pot o’ mead or two when this lad walks into the camp. Real looker. Local I’d say; had his hair like yours, tied back. He had a real roguish grin. I’d a taught him a trick or two.”

Aldred shuddered at the thought and nodded for her to continue.

“So no sooner than he’s in the camp than a bloody griffon drops from the sky with this posh tart on top o’ it. She offers a stack o’ coin for the handsome lad but, well no disrespect, but we don’t like the gold o’ that sort.

“So the lad’s off into the crowd like mercury. Anyhow out o’ the mist pops this bald guy. More tattoos on his head than Kulkan. Reckons he’s a sorcerer as soon as I sees ‘im.”

“I’d a taken him. Punch to th’ kidneys then a good stomp on the baldy head. I would of. Killed him. No mistake,” Kulkan said.

“He’d a lit you up like a funeral pyre, you fool,” Agnes said. “He grabs the Thetorian lad and shocks him real good. Thought the poor boy were dead the way he did him, but the posh knight stops him.”

“Did you catch any names?” Aldred said, his guts churning with excitement.

“She were called Lady Orla by the wizard and he were called Ekra something I think. The Thetorian lad, they says he was a thief and a prisoner. Called ‘im Hunor,” Agnes said.

Hunor Markson, it had to be—with Eerian knights and a mage, before coming to the castle and the massacre. He had been a prisoner of the knights. They had come for the crystal that Unhert alleged was stolen by his father and that Quigor and his master coveted for some reason. If Hunor was a thief, which would tally with what Agnes just said and the inferences from Hela Markson, then he may have been involved in taking this crystal from perhaps Eeria. Yet what had this to do with vampyrs and black magic. He was missing a vital key in this whole mystery. What was his father’s role in all this?

The simple conclusion was that he needed Sir Unhert freed from the dungeons.

Aldred thanked Agnes and was about to leave when he asked on a whim, “Is Ekris to be found nearby?”

It was as if he had thrown ice cold water over the trio before him. Agnes looked stunned, the dwarf uneasy and it befell the Incandian to speak.

“He’s back in the camp this morning. How come you by his name?”

“I have had use of his talents of late. I met him on the road south of the river almost a week ago. Why?”

The Incandian looked around shiftily and said, “Take care, young lord. There’s darkness around him. He’s the pause before the storm.”

Aldred was about to ask more when he spotted Ekris striding towards the four of them. The thespian had changed into bright red and yellow robes, clearly to play the part in some drama. His dark expression lifted as he spotted Aldred.

“Lord Aldred! It would seem our paths are intertwined like the ivy that crawls up a wall. I overheard the snake girl talking of a young noble honouring our camp. What has brought you here?”

“Oh, I thought I’d come nose around the carnival prior to this evening.”

Ekris smiled thinly and his eyes flitted over the three that stood with Aldred.

“Indeed? And what witty anecdotes have you being sharing, Agnes? Or is it prospective pugilism with the painted midget?”

The dwarf looked at his feet, shaking.

“N-nothing of note, Ekris. The lord was most polite to humour us.”

“Well I’ll spare you more inane prattle, my lord,” Ekris said. “If you have the time I’ll introduce you to the players as we practice for Holden’s (abridged) Fall of Kevor.”

Aldred nodded politely and strolled from the riverbank with Ekris.

“I thought, perhaps erroneously, that you’d come in need of my—talents again,” Ekris said.

Aldred shook his head but in his mind, as he considered Sir Unhert in the dungeons, he thought it may well come to that, Mortis save me. It may well come to that.

***

In the end Aldred had sent one of Poris’s men as a courier to return to Blackstone Castle for his evening attire and had changed in Livor’s room at the Traveller’s Rest. He donned his best leather trousers, red doublet and silk shirt.

His eyes settled upon the small note book on the table by the window. He eased the cover open and glanced at the pages of Livor’s scribbles. His friend had certainly researched the creature well, yet Aldred could not help feeling a degree of uncertainty about the merits of Livor’s plan.

The book was gone when he returned from the bar an hour later and Livor was sat in the room with his pipe. Aldred had indulged in a goblet of Feldorian merlot; he had acquired a taste for it whilst a guest at Lady Hela’s house.

“Are you certain you have enough men for your trap, Livor?”

“For the last time, we are well prepared,” he said. “I was thinking how odd it is that our lives, so uneventful to this stage, are now a flurry of activity and intrigue. How is that you can meander for so many years searching for purpose, for stimulation beyond the dullness of life as a noble, then adventure comes to your doorstep?”

“You seem to imply some purpose in this horror that has befallen the town. Are you saying this is, somehow, destiny?”

Livor dragged on his pipe, smiling.

“We’ve all got a part to play in this world. For some of us greatness does not wait. It thrusts itself upon us, kicking and screaming. This is our time, Aldred. There is a bigger scheme afoot here. Work of the gods or not, our little corner of the world is being pushed forward onto a much bigger stage.”

“I could do without the limelight, Livor. I’d never asked for this.”

“Could you do without it? You, my most impulsive friend? A Thetorian to the core? No, you may not have asked for it, but deep down we’ve both wanted this. We may be tiny cogs in this machine of life or we may be the giant wheel—only time will tell. But I sense there are great deeds ahead for one or both of us.”

“Perhaps. The machinations of the gods are always confusing,” Aldred said. A sense of dread washed over him.

“Whatever happens to us though, Livor, you are my sense, my direction. Stay my friend, as I shall always be yours, wherever this journey in life takes us.”

Livor stood and hugged his friend with an intensity that brought a lump to Aldred’s throat. The two young men clung to each other silently, like sailors on a sinking ship.

In time Livor pulled away and donning his cloak, sword and small crossbow he extinguished his pipe. Aldred fastened his black and silver half cloak and the two descended the stairs and went through the common room of the inn.

***

The pair remained silent as they strode up Eviks Bar towards the town square. The clock tower struck seven as they turned down the narrower street that ran to the courtyard in front of the town hall.

The music was resonating around the houses and alleys that bordered the courtyard and the far end was thick with townsfolk jostling to get into the hall. Two grandly dressed footmen were greeting the guests as they entered. The excitement was tangible and moreso as a gaggle of girls saw Aldred arrive.

He reached the crowd and deflected enquiries about his health with a smile. Livor patted him on the shoulder then slipped off to meet Guntir.

Aldred felt strangely removed from the festivities as he flitted through the assembled guests. As fortune would have it his old friend Poris was on hand to soak up much of the attention. Although not as prime a catch as Aldred for the assembled maidens he was none-the-less an available young noble and he milked it to the extreme. His demeanour with Aldred was oddly courteous and Aldred suspected he was still upset about the death of Otius. What perturbed Aldred more was that he didn’t really care about Poris and his mood; it was as if part of him was numb, insensate to the near daily horrors he now seemed to encounter.

That indifference drove him through the Ball like a marionette. He danced with skill yet no passion to the exuberant melody of Sweet Maid of Kokis and the slower strains of The High King’s Cry. He stood at the sidelines during the next few songs, watching the whirling dresses and tapping boots.

A tinge of disdain arose in him. How could these young fools so willingly ignore the terror he had witnessed? Had they no sense of what lurked in the shadows of their nightmares? It was not their fault. The virtue of youth was its belief in its own immortality. Many a young man, dying on a Goldorian battlefield but a generation ago, would have done so with a sense of surprise that death had paid them such a premature visit.

The slow tune of Silver Lady of the Bridge was struck up as Aldred decided he could remain no longer. The words echoed in his mind as he eased through the throng, the smell of cider and wine beginning to nauseate him.

“
In my youth the Gods frowned for I ne’er settled down,

But rather pluck’d every rose in Thetoria town.

Yet as I grew, in my heart I knew,

That my true love must be found.

“
Oh under the bridge, over the bridge

Silver Lady, where have you gone?

Oh in the water, ‘neath that ice cold moon

Silver Lady, where did you go?”

Aldred passed the footmen and stepped into the cooler air of the courtyard. Darkness had fallen and the main illumination came from the hall behind him. His shadow was long and his eyes strained to see Livor’s men.

A flare of light came from the alley and for a panicky instant he though it the burning eyes of the vampyr. Then as it waned he saw it was the light of a pipe. Aldred strode across the courtyard, shaking his head.

“
On the hundredth bridge I saw her there,

Her face a miracle, with long silver hair.

Her touch so cool and her voice so cruel

As she told me with nary a care,

“I can not love you, oh man of the street

For your soul is far, far from complete.

You must quest far and wide, look deep inside

Then return to this bridge for us to meet.”

The guard’s crossbow was propped against the alley wall as he fumbled with his tinderbox. He looked surprised to see the young noble and his dark expression.

“You would do well to respect this monster more,” Aldred said.

“As you say, m’lord,” he said with a sigh.

He tapped the smouldering tobacco from the pipe on the wall. The embers swirled atop the hooded lantern at his feet.

“Oh under the bridge, over the bridge

Silver Lady, where have you gone?

Oh in the water, ‘neath that ice cold moon

Silver Lady, where did you go?

Aldred felt too weary to argue with him. The music echoed around the empty courtyard.

“Where is Master Livor stationed?”

“Over yonder by the merchant Jordir’s house,” the guard said. “M’lord, is the baron down for the ball? Thought I saw him o’er by the hall a minute ago.”

“To Nulor I ranged, with its mighty fort

And in those walls a soldier I sought

And the words he conveyed, sun bright on his blade

Is that th’ easiest problems are hardest to sort

“Don’t be a fool, man. Why would my father be here for such a thing?”

“My mistake, m’lord. Mind ‘ow ye go.”

Aldred stomped off across the cobbles. The lament was becoming irritating now. How odd—he’d always liked the song.

He heard a loud scrape as he moved towards the merchant’s townhouse and a strange sound, almost like the whimper of an animal.

“To Kokis I quested, its spires so gold

A lover I sought, to only be told

Beware the lies, as challenges arise,

Solve not the new afore solving the old

“Oh under the bridge, over the bridge

Silver Lady, where have you gone?

Oh in the water, ‘neath that ice cold moon

Silver Lady, where did you go?”

Some instinct drove Aldred to turn and walk back to the alley where he had just talked to the guard. The din from the hall was escalating as the crowd cheered the popular lament and sang along drunkenly.