Dusk Falling (Book 1) (6 page)

Their grins fled at the sight of Serrtin and they crept toward the door much more sedate than before, giving the Yarcka a wide berth. Upon approaching the shop-keep, the smile below his moustache also faltered but he caught it quickly enough. It didn’t pay to be impolite to your customers, no matter who the customers happened to be. He laced his fingers together on the counter. This was quite the spectacle to wander into his little shop.

Serrtin’s large muscles, flexed at the right moments, served to get their needed supplies at a discounted rate. A large sack of grain for Trinket, some extra footage of rope (just in case), a backup bundle of canvas material (also just in case), a new feedbag to replace the one that had been destroyed during the last capture, and a small flask of polish to keep away rust was purchased. The shop-keep took the proffered coins and Serrtin piled the entire kit upon a single immense shoulder, much to the appreciation of the man behind the counter. Though obviously out of condition now, he had the look of one who had once been an impressive sight. At one time, the man could have lifted three maybe four of the same sacks of grain with ease. Of course, any Yarcka could do that.

As they turned to leave, Aya saw something that made her halt, almost causing Serrtin to dump the entire load of supplies onto the small mage before she dodged ungracefully to the side. Gaining her balance as well as restacking the grain, Serrtin frowned at her companion. She opened her mouth but then shut it as she laid eyes on what had caused Aya to stop right in her tracks. Serrtin’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, the line of her mouth grew tight.

“Well, well,” Came a familiar voice, “If it isn’t my old friends from the Circuit. How pleasant. What a coincidence that we meet here in Barda! Perhaps you too are on a Mission?”

“Owl…” Aya said under her breath, speaking their rival’s name like curse.

Owl had been with the Circuit many years. Even before Serrtin had joined, he had already become an infamous Hunter. A Master Swordsman, he was never seen without his greatsword, Baanathso. As he stood before Aya and Serrtin, the swords hilt could be seen over his left, strapped to his back by a thick tooled leather belt. A litany of smaller daggers and throwing knives glittered from all over his body.

The strangest oddity about the Hunter aside from his name was his hat. He wore an agatoth-hide pointed hat, the tip worn and hung limp to one side. Thick stitching shown at the seams. A blue-black feather which he claimed came from a rare giant bird called a Roc was worked into to the ridge stitching and trailed along the brim. What was odd was that the hat itself came down to the bridge of his nose. It completely engulfed the top potion of his head and face. Two eyeholes were made over the shortest side of the brim.

Aya had, since the first time she laid eyes on the man a few years ago, always thought he looked absolutely preposterous. Serrtin, who had all the manners of a riled Nerot, had come up with a lot more imaginative things to call their rival and his unconventional style of dress.

“Ah, of course you are. Why else would you be here in such a town? And Aya, I see you’re still with your domesticated Yarcka. How wonderful.” Owl said with a grin.

Serrtin growled a warning, taking a single step forward. The Hunter raised his hands palms out, waving them back and forth. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that! Don’t mind my idle chatter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to purchase some items for my next accomplishment and if I don’t hurry… well, you know how Jely can be.”

They did. Jelantha Westessen was one in a million. Sweet, cheerful and upbeat, even in the blaze of battle when blood is spraying and swords are swinging. She held no fear in her heart but she did possess one nasty temper once her fuse was lit. Not even Owl wanted to mess with her after that. And he was her Circuit partner.

“See you around.” Owl said as he strode by. As he passed shoulder to shoulder of Serrtin, he remarked much more seriously. “Hopefully we’ll never have to one day come looking for you. You do know how much we love a good challenge and rogue-Hunters are our favorites. Good luck and do remember the Code… my friends.”

As the Hunter struck up conversation with the portly shopkeep, Serrtin turned to Aya. “Just give me the word and I’ll make sure they
never
find that guy.”

“Tempting, to be sure.” She responded, opening the door for the Yarcka, who barely fit out without turning sideways. “But more trouble than it’s probably worth.”

As they traveled through the Market, purchasing what foodstuffs they could that would last for their journey, Aya questioned the sellers. From the dried meats booth where she purchased some jerked beef, a bit of dried river quail and gave in to buying some smoked cressfin, the mage asked about the nearby mountains with a range of ten miles. The smooth-faced merchant thought about it, crossing his arms over his chest before answering. “I know of the area but I can’t remember the name. If you follow the Azure Ribbon on its southern side, it gets hilly before coming to the foot of the Krintal Mountains. There are a lot of small creeks and rivers throughout the area. Few around actually know this but those rivers don’t just stop at the mountain range- they actually go underground. The Dwarprihn who live all cooped up in the Mountains know it though I bet!

“You know, if you’re that interested you should speak to my brother. His wife owns the bakery by the smithshop on the outskirts of town. You probably saw it- the dolphin and shark hitchpost? Tell him I sent you and he’ll give you a good deal- uh, that is if you wished to buy, of course.” The merchant finished lamely. Embarrassed by his presumptuousness, he made a face before shrugging it off. He nodded to them congenially and moved to assist another customer.

At a nearby vegetable stand, a woman with two young children playing at her feet admitted to them that she had heard stories told by travelers about an eerie happenstance in the surrounding woodlands. Some parties recently had even been attacked. The woman knew of a few fishermen who flat refused to go in that area at all. Of course, those old fools were cowards, she blatantly exclaimed. Her opinion of the matter (one she gave most glibly) was that a pack of rock seders had been disengorged from the Krintal range by the inhabiting Dwarprihn and had moved into the hills looking for shelter. Nothing a band of mercs couldn’t take care of.

Aya had doubted thus but did not say so. She thanked the woman anyways and purchased enough produce to replenish their foodstores. Serrtin wrapped them into the canvas sack where they would remain until she had a chance to rearrange the duffel that had been left with Agemeer.

After being steered away from a jewelry stand where there were all sorts of lovely necklaces and bracelets to be bought, the Bren headed for the bakery. A little wistful of the fineries, for a Bren is still a Bren, she knew work came first.

The bakery was small, much too small for the amount of people inside. Serrtin opted to wait outside and while she was out there she’d make sure that the little shop did not become any
more
busy.

Aya purchased a loaf of stonewheat bread and a package of traveler’s rations- a yeastless flatbread about as tasty and appealing as an oil rag left out in the sun to dry. Pretending to be interested in the jars of homemade jams on the counter, Aya attempted to get some more info from the pale lass on the other side. As first, she was not in the least interested in conversation while her shop was so teeming with customers but once Aya mentioned the merchant she had spoken to, the lass warmed immediately. Ignoring the other patrons, she turned her full attention to the young Bren as if they were old friends who had met up after a lengthy period of no-see.

“Ah, you met my bother-in-law Jent! How kind of him to send you here- he’s such a good man. Let me get my husband Gevn. Please wait.” She hurried into the backroom and returned momentarily with an equally plain man with ruffled brown hair and flour on his clothes. His smile was kind. He was definitely the merchant’s brother.

~ ~ ~

As his wife tended to the customers, Aya told him what Jent had told her. Gevn dusted his hands on a scrap of faded cloth tucked into his belt. He then rubbed his chin with the side of his hand, a habit surely picked up from his elder brother, leaving a smudge of white flour. “Ah, yes. Have you heard any of the rumors floating about as of late? Here in Barda if its not fish that someone is flappin’ his gums about, its silly rumors. Can’t say I believe them myself- I have yet to see any spooks or fiends anywhere
near
this part of Demaria. But I digress,” He said with an apologetic wave of a hand, sending a light shower of flour to the floor. “Let’s see… by following the Ribbon back toward its source you’ll reach a wooded Pass that heads directly into the Krintal Mountains. Sometimes we get Dwarprihn travelers through Barda. Not often, but sometimes.” The baker seemed so honestly excited about potential
Dwarprihn visitors it made Aya think that what he had said about the rumors was most likely true. But she wasn’t interested in that, courtesy could wait.

“Do you know what the Pass is called perchance?”

“Let’s see… Genlo, the Pass of Genlo. It was named after a Bren merchant who came through these parts on a pilgrimage to Eastern Demaria. I heard it said that he was the one to show the first people of Barda how to catch fish and benefit fullest from the river.”

“The Pass of Genlo to the east, okay. Do you know how long these rumors of odd occurrences have been circulating?”

“Not too long. Just started really but that’s how rumors are here- full blown the moment it passes a person’s lips!”

“Thank you very much. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Ah, sure thing. I better get back to work before my wife says something. Here, take this. Fea makes a great jam from Jent’s surplus.” Gevn handed her a jar. Clasping her hand to it, he bowed his shoulders in farewell. With that, the baker went back into the kitchen. Fea winked at Aya and waved before turning back to an elderly woman, who was trying to decide between wheat or sour doughs.

Glancing down at the small jar and up again, the young Bren smiled. Stepping back out into the city, she told Serrtin what she had learned.

Chapter 5

In a remote cavern far from civilization, high atop a lone snowcrag peak, a figure sat upon the cold stone ground oblivious to the deadly chill and watched the passage of time. Frigid water dripping from stalagtites into a puddle of half-ice was the only sound so deep within the cavern. Even the ever-present storm that howled and battered the mountaintop was only a distant hum.

Formerly the den of a large snowdrake, the caverns interior was worn smooth from centuries of passage by the great beast.

But the figure that now occupied the den did not appreciate the significance as he sat alone in the darkness.

There was a reason he remained so far into un-traveled inhospitable lands such as Nothgar, why he was alone, why he chose that precise location without fear of the fatal kiss of icy weather. He had all the time in the world to wait and to plan. All the time in the world and into the next as well if he so chose.

Eyes that burned like blackened jewels flared open suddenly and life animated a body untouched by colds paralysis. He moved to the snowdrip puddle and crouched. Sweeping a hand over it, the surface stilled its ripples and an image formed within it. The absolute pitch of the cavern mattered not for he could see what transpired unhindered.

“At last, you have chosen to make your move. I have been waiting for a long time, make this interesting.” The figure spoke softly to the water as if it could hear him. “Your mechanisms will be short-lived. I’ll see to that…”

~ ~ ~

“Have fun scaring the locals?” Aya asked, draping her mare’s reins over her plating to free up her hands as they headed out of Barda. The pair decided they best not remain in town for any longer, what with the possible eyes at their backs. Aya petted Trinkets nose in apology for the warm mash lost.

Serrtin glanced down at her friend, an amused sparkle lighting her eyes. “Much harder to intimidate, these fisherpeople. They’ll keep their distance, I’ll give ’em that.” She said, then: “Options?”

“Well,” The mage began, turning her own eyes back to the ground ahead of her. She was not at all confused by the saurian’s quick subject change. “I am most interested in the rumors of the strange goings-on in an area at the foot of the Krintal Mountains called the Pass of Genlo. Some of the townsfolk refuse to go near there. Gevn- the baker- said he doesn’t believe a word of it. The consensus seems to be split as far as that goes. So, if it truly is the rogue mage we are being told of, he is making himself a small nuisance. But that’s the thing I don’t get- he’s not making a
big
nuisance of himself, like a Triple Sign would be apt to do. It doesn’t fit the usual bill of one.”

“Hmm,” Serrtin considered thus. “Perhaps this ‘nuisance’ is nothing but a bunch of brigands- not quite large enough to openly threaten a town like Barda but organized enough to pray off those who travel too far outside the city. That would explain the man by the smithy when we first entered Barda.”

“If it is indeed our Triple Sign then perhaps he is hiding out knowing he is hunted? Laying low, so to speak, but unable to control the urge to torment?”

The pair continued walking in silence till they reached the edge of the city and reunited with the latter half of the team. Aya repeated what they had learned, the thoughts of the townspeople as well as her own but did not mention their run-in with the Circuit’s infamous Master Swordsman nor his almost blatant threat. No sense giving the old sage more to worry about.

All of them concurred on a single factor: ‘normal’ Triple Signs had a way of attracting large scale disaster and were not typically found harassing travelers. If this truly was their rogue mage, he had already proven himself far more unpredictable than usual. And that was never good for those chosen to hunt him down.

“Either way, we best be prepared. Let us place our supplies on…
thehorse
.” Serrtin sneered as she spoke of Aya’s mount. It had taken her a while to accept the mare’s presence, let alone its occasional usefulness, but never would she admit the stupid beast had a name. And a silly name at that.