Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild (73 page)

Turman Pandieth would be traveling to Queen’s Port, accompanied by Mandel Ott, Ettan Cooke, and Seth Queslian, as the personal guard for their Emperor by birthright, Singular Barb’rus Night. It was hoped that his presence there would help to convince those in the area that the revolution was not only real, it was winnable, because of the newly formed union with Ravenwild. He expected less resistance there, since the shoreline population did not have the history of border disputes with Vultura’s eastern neighbors. And what they did have in abundance was food to feed the soldiers, who would desperately need it to wage their joint campaign against the Trolls. Dried fish was not only easy to harvest and preserve by either salting or smoking, it was easy to pack and transport to those who would need it come spring, now less than a month away. Singular Night would order their compliance, and the citizenry would respond. From there, he and Turman Pandieth would then proceed straight away to the city of Stihl. There was no question but that the troops stationed there would need some persuading to throw in with the Ravenwild forces with whom they had warred for centuries. And there was no doubt that a faction of them would fall on their own swords before they would join up with them, but Singular was prepared to do whatever he had to do in order to gain the allegiance of as many of them as he could for the insurrection that was coming as surely as the spring moons.

He would start by meeting directly with the local leadership, of course. Hopefully that would be enough, but he didn’t think so. Meanwhile, a show of overwhelming force by Ravenwild troops encircling their entire local militia was his backup plan. “How odd,” he would later remember thinking, “to have to use foreign armed forces to convince my fellow Gnomes to rise up with their own countrymen and throw off the shackles put upon us under my father’s rule.”

Queen Isabella and Borok Dodson would travel back to Ravenwild a day behind Wayne and Duane to organize the troop movements east. They only had a couple of weeks left to utilize the solitary winter moon in order that such a vast amount of soldiers might travel unnoticed to the eastern border of Vultura, the likelihood of which was probably next to nil, but if anyone could make this happen, it was Borok. This was his forte, and his physical presence was requisite if there was any chance of pulling this off.

“You talked to the girl,” she said.

“I did,” he answered, “which was … taxing
.

“And getting the spirits to attend was not easy, either. You must know that they did not want to participate. It was a plea that took far too long.

“Dear friend, I slept for hours afterwards, recovering.”

Elsie smiled. “Well, it was good that you did it. She
is
the one, you know.”

“I wish I were as confident as you,” said Iqbal. “We both know that the prophecy mentions nothing about her entire family showing up. I remain unconvinced. Hopeful, but unconvinced. I am tired now. I need to check the wardings to make sure they are all in place. Then,” he yawned a great yawn, “I will sleep.”

“You sleep, old friend. I can check the wardings.”

“That,” said Iqbal, “would never happen, and you know it. Could I live with myself if ever anything were to happen to you, or the family you have staying with you, that I could have prevented by doing my job? But go now. Let me do what I must do. Then, I will sleep.”

Elsie strolled away from the rivulet awash with the feeling that is only possible from having an old and trusted friend. It was such a good thing to be able to have Iqbal as that friend, however strange it was that he lived in a swamp, and whose shape was that of a ten thousand pound wet cigar with tentacles. And his friendship was especially important to her right now with the great sadness she felt every waking moment of every day over the recent passing of her sister. Still, she knew she must be strong. Everything depended on this fragile new alliance, and there was much to do. The Trolls were poised to completely eradicate the remaining Humans, Elves, and Dwarves. And who knows if they would stop there; regardless, for the Gnomes to exist for the rest of time as nothing more than slaves to these monsters was an entirely unbearable thought.

“Well how difficult would it be to cook it?” asked Jacqueline. “Don’t you guys have any matches, or lighters, or anything?” She turned to Cinnamon. “I am
not
going to rub two sticks together. I saw that movie ‘Castaway', and I’m definitely not going to do that to
my
hands.”

Jacqueline and Cinnamon sat facing the four Wolves that they had bargained with so as to be able to climb down from the treetops of the Agden Forest without fear of being eaten. It had been a chance, there could be no doubt about that, but Jacqueline had a feeling about these Wolves. And when it came to feelings about animals, she was seldom, if ever, wrong.

“Are you listening?” she asked. “
Hello.
”

“We’re listening,” said Roly, who had positioned himself in between the carcass of the bird that Jacqueline had thrown down and the other three Wolves: Franklin, Stefen, and Dillon. “Tell you what, Human, show us the stone you wear around your neck, and we will not only give you the things you need to make a fire, we will give you clothes with which to keep warm
and
a piece of this fine bird that your cat caught for you.”

“How nice of you,” said Cinnamon, “Thank you.”

“Sure,” said Jacqueline, “What’s the big deal about seeing my stone anyway?” She fingered the fine chain around her neck and pulled it out. All of the Wolves slowly, cautiously, carefully, crowded in close, but not too close. Jacqueline could see that despite their obvious curiosity, they were clearly intimidated by it, afraid of it even. Eight eyes stared at it as though it might suddenly send forth lightning and thunder. On a whim, she held it up and charged at them saying, “Boooo!!!” They scattered like chickens, all with their ears tucked back.

She laughed uproariously.

“Come back,” she called. “Come on now. It’s all right. I was only fooling. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Little by little the Wolves circled their way back until they were again crowded around her. As hungry as they were, they nevertheless had completely forgotten about the food that lay not ten feet away. “Why are you so afraid of this?” she asked them.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked Franklin.

“Never mind that right now,” interrupted Cinnamon, “First things first. You promised us if you got to see her gemstone, you would, a) let us have a portion of the bird, b) give us the implements we need to start a fire, and, c) provide the girl with some clothing for warmth. Guess what, it’s A.B.C.-time. Spit-spot, then.”

“Pardon her,” said Jacqueline. “She’s British.” She looked at Cinnamon. “Aren’t the British supposed to have the world’s
best
manners? By the way, my name is Jacqueline. Jacqueline Elizabeth Strong. And this is my favorite cat, Cinnamon.”

“Mine is Roly. This is Franklin, Stefen, and Dillon.” Each of the great beasts nodded in turn as their names were called. “And yes, Cinnamon, we did promise those things. Unfortunately, we cannot make good on them without a short walk. Franklin, why don’t you grab the bird. Follow me.”

They walked about an hour without another word spoken. Roly led the way, followed by Jacqueline and Cinnamon, with the three remaining Wolves bringing up the rear. They came to a clearing, and Roly pointed to a tree that towered hundreds of feet over them. It was so high, they couldn’t make out the top as they craned their necks, looking skyward. In the base of it was a large hollow, representing the work of ants over hundreds of years. “In there,” he said, “Have a look.”

Jacqueline and Cinnamon slipped inside and in several minutes emerged. Jacqueline now wore a proper cold-weather outfit, complete with a scarlet, hooded cloak, and a belt; what’s more, she now sported a sheath knife. She was ecstatic at the thought of being warm for a change. Racing forward, she threw her arms around Roly’s neck. He recoiled, almost as though he was still a little afraid of this girl who wore the stone. She hugged him ferociously, then called all of them forward, hugging each in turn and saying, “Thank you, thank you.” There were tears in her eyes.

The huge animals almost seemed embarrassed at the display.

Finally, Roly said, “Okay, okay, that’s enough now. We would like to eat, and I imagine you would want to cut off your piece first.”

“Pieces,” said Jacqueline, glancing at Cinnamon with a smile.

Cinnamon had to guide her, but soon she had their two pieces filleted out from the breast, which she wrapped in a couple off large leaves from the tree. Then she withdrew the flint-and-steel, that they had discovered on their rummage within the great tree trunk, and sparked a fire. It took her the longest time, but finally it caught, and soon after that was blazing happily.

“You know,” said Cinnamon, “if we made one right in front of the hollow of the tree and piled rocks all around it, it would keep us warm all night.”

“Good idea,” said Jacqueline. “How do you know these things?”

“I sometimes used to watch the hunting channel with your father,” she said.

“I hate the hunting channel,” said Jacqueline.

Chapter 26

Once the crew had passed by him, and they and the stench that they carried was gone, he moved quietly towards the opening to the cesspits of Ghasten. Breathing his last breath of reasonably healthy air, he moved through the opening and went inside. He had already tried this the night before, but had come within a hair’s breadth of being discovered by a random patrol.

He knew that the way he and his party, that had included Doreen, had escaped some days ago had been resealed, but that wasn’t the way he wanted to go anyway. He sought the room in which were locked the prisoners who were never allowed to leave: those poor souls whose crimes had gotten them sentenced to not only a life of slaving away in the filth of others, making sure that the sewer lines never got backed up, but who literally lived where they worked, locked in every afternoon at the end of their shifts after an hour or so in the fresh air immediately outside of the opening to the underground sewers. He thought he remembered that the prison block was hard off to the right.

The going was slow in the darkness as he groped for the door and the large brass key that he knew would hang on a ring beside it. He found the door, and next the key, and silently slipped it into the lock. There was a distinct “clack” as the tumblers engaged. The door creaked slightly as he gently swung it inward and he heard the prisoners stirring in their cells. Calls of, “Hey?” “What’s going on?” “Who’s there?” echoed in the underground prison.