Pentigrast (2 page)

The old man sat back and pulled from his pipe, “did this scene disturb you?”

Talen contemplated his response for a moment before giving his answer. “The dead don’t disturb me Father, only the living.” His voice trailed off as he lifted his mug to his lips.  The old man took in this response thoughtfully before moving on. “You say there was an empty space for yet another, why is it that you believe another there will be?” Talen considered this question for a moment and wondered if this were truly the Riven Lannister of legend. “There are 5 points to the pentagram, each of the four point’s mark a different woman, and it would be common sense to believe that the fifth point that now stands empty would be the last to be filled.”

“Does it now” The old man said with a flicker of amusement. “And you know of these dark arts well, do you”? “I know nothing of dark arts old man; I only know what I see and what common sense tells me.” The old man sat back in his chair and cut a small piece of cheese from the block beside him. “Perhaps you are not the man I seek after all, Talen Morgan; I had hoped you to be smarter.” Talen took the old man’s words with a grain of salt, if what the old tales said were true of Riven Lannister then he was more cunning and adept at words than he was with weapons and this foray was only meant to serve as bait to get him agitated enough to say more. Talen had guessed that it was no accident that he had found the women in that cave. Very few men are want to cross the barrens at any time; most take the longer route around the mountains as it is safer.  In the spring and summer months the barrens are a swamp and the passable routes to the Quinth borderlands change with each rain. In the fall and winter the way is all but lost but to the few who know the barrens well. No, finding these dead women was no accident, they were meant to be found and found by him.

As Talen thought carefully about his response the old man took a small bite of cheese and stared into the fire before speaking. “You may know nothing of dark arts but you know when you are being made to see something meant only for your eyes, or are you blind?” Talen took a long hard swallow of cider before re-filling his mug and parrying the old man’s taunt. “We can play at this game all night if you like but I grow bored and would soon know of your business with me. If you wish to visit the cave and see the gruesome scene for yourself then I can take you in the morning, for a price” Talen spoke defiantly.

After a moment of silence the old man once again spoke but he no longer seemed hard and confident in his manner, more sincere and matter of fact. “The tale I am about to tell you has unfolded over the past century, there is no need to revisit the cave and see the scene you described as the fifth woman is already dead and has taken her place elsewhere.” “And where would that be Father?” Talen questioned. “She lay in a house in the city of Quinth, awaiting you”. To this Talen could not hide his amusement. “Hopefully she will provide me some warmth on this cold winters evening and a few other things as well” he said with a sly smile. “This is no joke boy, there are forces at work here that you know not about and if you don’t heed my warning then you will perish as the others have.” The priest said with a sharp edge in his voice.

“There is a house in Quinth where it is said that love never dies and the sweet whispers of romance can make a man lose himself in short time. This house is where she awaits you and I will see that you are available to her within the fortnight.” Talen again took a long draw from his mug before standing to leave. “ I thank you for the hospitality of your fire Father as well for the Mulled cider but I do not wish companionship of the dead and in a fortnight I assure you I will be in a place and time of mine own choosing.” With that being said Talen slammed down his mug on the table causing the small plate of cheese to topple to the floor. Before the old man could speak Talen was across the room and through the door and into the inns main dining room. “Innkeeper, a flagon of strong black ale.” he demanded. “I will take it in the corner alcove and I don’t wish to be disturbed.” The Innkeeper quickly filled a flagon of his best strong ale, grabbed a clean mug and delivered it to Talen in the alcove before returning to his private common room to see if his other guest had need of him.

The innkeeper quietly knocked upon the common room door half hoping it would go unheard and he could go back about his business. A voice on the other side told him to enter. “Is he still here?” the old man asked the innkeeper with some remorse. “Yes.” The innkeeper replied “he has ordered a flagon of strong black ale and sits quietly in the corner alcove drinking it alone.” “Good” the old man smiled. “ let him drink his fill and put it on my tab, when he has finished his flagon tell him I wish to speak with him briefly to apologize” “ Yes Father” said the innkeeper, “do you have want of anything else?” The old man stared at the cheese now lying soiled on the floor. “Yes, a flagon of mulled wine and another plate of cheese will do, and make sure our friend doesn’t become too drunk or leave” “Yes Father” the innkeeper replied as he quickly cleaned up the cheese on the floor and removed the flagon of mulled cider and mugs.

As the evening wore on more customers filled the inn and the innkeeper quickly lost track of his charge in benefit to his purse strings. It was a little after midnight when he noticed that Talen had left. Remembering his guest in the private quarters he realized he would be none too happy to hear this news. The innkeeper knocked upon the door before opening it and entered the common room quietly as not to disturb what was hopefully a now sleeping priest. “Our friend” the old man said with closed eyes. “Has he come?” “No, Father, the innkeeper said. “It was busy and I have no help, I…I …I didn’t see him leave.” “Very well” said the old man as a matter of fact. “I suspected he might leave. Wake me in the morning half past eight.” “Yes, Father” said the innkeeper as he crept back towards the great room closing the door behind him silently.

At half past eight the innkeeper woke the old man and beckoned him towards the fire where he had a plate of warm sausage and hard cheese waiting for him, beside the plate a cup of steaming red tea and a small porcelain tea pot containing more. The innkeeper had hoped this would please the priest, especially after last night’s transgression. “Ah this smells wonderful, thank you.” The old man said with a hint of a smile. “I will have need of a stout horse and supplies for 4 days; can you take care of this for me before noon?” “Easily Father the innkeeper replied. “Good, this should more than be enough.” The old man said handing over a small leather pouch containing the gold coin of the church. “Will you have need of warm riding clothes as well Father?’ the innkeeper asked. “ No, I have all else needed for my journey.” “What of Talen Father? Should I leave word of your return for him?” “There will be no need, I suspect our paths will cross sooner than he would like, much sooner.”

After he finished his morning meal the old man packed his boar bone pipe with the last of his Downwater tobacco, striking a match he lit the pipe and stoked it a while to make sure he would savor it to the last leaf. Pulling on his pipe he inhaled deeply and took a sip of the hot red tea beside him before exhaling the sweet smoke in a small cloud before the fireplace. He knew that the day ahead would be long which gave him pause. He was no longer the young man the legends spoke of and the years have not been kind to him in ways that simpler men might have enjoyed. Even so he knew he had no choice in the matter and what was to be done had to be done in ways that only he could make happen. Talen was the key, so he must be the door to which that key unlocks.

Finishing his pipe he tamped out the last of the burning embers and ashes into the fireplace and returned the pipe to its now empty leather pouch. Behind him near the bed lay his travel bag, old and worn it had seen many a day’s service and rode thousands of miles across the kingdom, today it would finally rest as he removed its contents for the last time.

At noon there was a knock upon the door as the innkeeper let the old man know his horse and supplies were ready. When Riven Lannister entered the great room for the last time he found it empty but for the innkeeper who stood with a shocked expression on his face. “Have I died and not been notified of the event” said the old man. “N..n…no the innkeeper stammered, it’s just you no longer look yourself Father.” Indeed the old man had transformed. The old grey robes and cloak had given way to well worn leather breeches and jerkin with chainmail sleeves and hood. A longsword hung from a heavy leather belt that held several sheathed daggers as well. The hooded black cloak that draped him cast a darker image of the man. He no longer looked so old and frail, nor did he look so pious. “ One must do the Lords work in ways that befit the mission at hand my son, and sometimes the converts must be taken by force” “Yes, Father.” The innkeeper reluctantly replied. Your horse is already saddled and your supplies are packed and loaded upon him. You have rations of dried meat, dried fish. cheese and rye to last you 4 days, 2 wine skins, one large and one small, as well as blankets, flint and steel and tinder.

“Very good” said the priest. “Have you any change for me?” “Yes, Father I’m sorry, it’s all here. Replied the innkeeper, as he handed back the small leather pouch to the priest. The priest opened the small leather pouch and pulled out 6 gold coins. “This is for your troubles, the church will see to the rest just send them the bill” “Thank you Father.” The innkeeper said before inquiring if he would be back soon. “I will not be back this way again I think.” With that the priest pulled the hood of his cloak about his head and walked towards the door of the inn. Opening the door he turned and looked at the innkeeper one last time and softly said a prayer of protection and bounty for the inn. As he closed the door behind him and walked into the cold winter’s day he looked to the grey skies and wondered if he would make the encampment before the snows came.

The horse was as stout as a beast as he could have wanted and supplied well for the journey ahead as the innkeeper had promised. The priest mounted the horse slowly and sat back in the saddle for a moment taking in the small town surrounding him. With a slight nudge from the heel of his boot the horse cantered slowly down the street of the town and towards the mountain where he would find Talen’s encampment. While it seemed he could touch the snow covered mountain from his seat he knew it would take the better part of the day to get there and then it would take the better part of the night to convince his unlikely companion of his role in this tale.

As evening approached and the grey sky gave way to the looming darkness the first flakes of snow settled on the ground before him, eventually he knew this quaint dusting would give way to a formidable storm and the priest hoped that he would find the encampment well before it hit. Within the next hour he found a small trail at the base of the North Face of the mountain, he hoped it would lead him directly to the ridge high above and his quarry, but it would be a difficult climb. As the snow gained more force the small trail cut into the granite of the mountain became too slick to pass while mounted, he would have to walk his horse the rest of the way, still taking care as he did so. Another 2 hours passed quietly as the storm gathered more densely around him. The path had become more treacherous and the ridge above had long ago disappeared in the falling sheets of snow, he lowered his head and pressed on as there was no going back at this point. Close to midnight the snow slowed to a flurry and the full moon could be seen brightly above. The ridge that seemed a distant memory was now clearly in reach and the light of a fire could be seen casting shadows against the contrasting canvas of white on white.

As he neared the encampment he thought of how he would explain his presence so that Talen might welcome him better. He could see the mouth of a small cave cut into the ridge above and just within was the fire he had seen casting shadows from below. The priest squinted to see into the blackness of the cave beyond the fire but he could see nothing and no trace of Talen. From behind him a voice spoke out quietly as if from the snow itself. “If you would have traveled further east you would have found an easier trail to the ridge that could be ridden, instead of taking an old goat path that must be walked.” The priest smiled. “It would seem I am at a small disadvantage when it comes to my surroundings and yet I still managed to find my way like an old goat.”

The priest turned to see Talen leaning against a large granite boulder staring at him. “Now, this looks more like the Riven Lannister the tales spoke of. Did you come for battle? Should I draw my sword or pour some tea?” “Tea would be more to my liking” said the priest with a laugh, “but I am ready if I have to battle for it”. Talen smiled letting down his guard for a moment. “Go and sit by the fire and warm yourself, I will tend to your horse and join you after.” The priest walked to the cave and set himself down before the fire, taking note that the tea had already been prepared and 2 cups sat before him already filled and steaming. Talen it would seem was the right choice and smarter than he let on.

“Your horse is comfortable and eating well of the barley and corn in his feed bag. I’ve brought your pack over as well.” “Ah good, the innkeeper packed it well and we can share some dried meat and hard cheese with our tea, or were you expecting other company?” “I was only expecting you Father, it is Father?” “You may call me Riven” the old man answered; “I sometimes use the churches influence to better go unnoticed, if the good lord doesn’t mind then why should I”.  Talen sat across from the old man and wondered just how close to the old tales the old man would become before long. “I will share my fire and camp with you on this cold winters night as I am not want to turn an old man away on such a night, but I warn you that tonight I am in no mood for games.” “You’ll forgive me Talen, I had not meant to toy with you or show you any disrespect. Last night I had wanted to apologize to you in hopes that we may speak more plainly away from the hearing of others. It would not do for others to know my business nor my name, and I had to know if what I had heard of you was true.” “And what have you heard about me” Talen inquired. “I am just a simple trapper plying my trade and keeping to myself.” The old man considered this answer and replied in kind “and now, who plays games? You knew who I was before you laid eyes on me, you knew I was coming to Strongshire and you knew I would seek you out.  And, while you may play the role of meek trapper to the simple folk of Strongshire you aren’t known as a trapper West of Quinth, longrider.”