The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (22 page)

Tallun turned around in his chair.  “Well?”

The shortest one was their spokesman.  He was average in size for all men in Olvion, around five feet, six inches.  He was made more recognizable by the scar that ran from his brow to his upper lip, the result of a knife fight.  His name was Barl.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Cap’n,” Barl said while stooping slightly in a crude semblance of a bow.  “I think we done found what you was lookin’ for.”

Tallun shot up from his chair sending it crashing into the wall behind him.  The three men recoiled.  “You have?  If you’re right I’ll see to it that each of you get an extra share.  Quickly now, show me what you’ve found.”

***

Toria was back at the rear of the column when a rider approached her.  He was a strapping lad of about twenty summers.  He smiled broadly as he reined in.  “You would be Toria?”

She had been keeping watch on the surroundings while the procession was stopped.  She did not know why they had stalled, but there were no indications of trouble.  Still, she knew that Geraar would be watching her and expecting that she remain vigilant.  She had just gotten her breathing to the point that she wasn’t struggling for air as a result of the marching, and she was still angry at Geraar for his enjoyment of her misery.  So she was in no mood for word games even if this young warrior on a large sorrel mare was more than a little handsome.

“Are you asking or telling?”

He smiled even more broadly.  “Both I would say.  I
think
you are the woman I have been sent to find, but I am not
certain
of that assumption.”

She smiled in spite of her intention to remain surly.  “Well then, you may dismiss all doubt for I am, indeed, Toria.”

Geraar heard the talking and stuck his head out of the wagon where he had been resting on several bags of milled corn.  He was about to caution Toria about talking while on watch, but checked himself as he saw the cavalryman.

The mounted warrior cut his eyes to glance at Geraar then ignored him.  “Well then, Lady Toria, I have been instructed to fetch you by none other than the King’s Sword.”

That perked her up.  She would welcome any respite from her current situation.  “Please tell Lord Vynn that I will be there as soon as I can make my way to the front.”  She saw Geraar watching her with bunched eyebrows.  If she didn’t know better she would have judged him to be jealous.  “Of course,” she continued, “I could make the trip much quicker if you would share your saddle.”

This time the cavalryman laughed.  “Yes, Lord Vynn did seem anxious to speak with you so we must endeavor to get you to him as swiftly as possible.”

He held out a hand intending to pull her up behind him.  He almost lost his seating as she grabbed the rear lip of the saddle and hoisted herself up instead.  This action provoked another laugh.  He turned his charon, gave Geraar a wink and trotted off toward the front of the column.

The cavalryman, whose name was Whitt, was enjoying the feel of Toria’s arms around his waist.  “Would you answer a question for me, Toria?”

“Why would I not?”

Another short laugh.  “Why indeed?  That other warrior back there in the wagon.  Is he…I mean are you…”

“That other warrior is my trainer,” she interrupted.  She was delighted with the young man’s obvious attraction to her.  She wondered if Geraar harbored a similar attraction.  “He has been assigned to teach me the basic skills of a sentry so I can be of service while we travel.”

Whitt would have enjoyed more time to converse with her, but they were already near the front of the line of wagons and cavalry.  She had been leaning to the side so she could see what was ahead of her.  She saw two warriors who were dirty and caked with mud and grime, but there was something familiar about the male.  She leaned farther forward and finally recognized him under the dirt.  “Lyyl!”

She sprang off of the charon with an athletic speed that left Whitt wondering how she had accomplished it and ran forward with arms outstretched.  “Lyyl, it’s me.”

Lyyl saw the young woman running at him with a speed that was almost astonishing.  The face was familiar, but it looked like his young cousin Toria, and she was not nearly so…developed.  She kept advancing, ignoring the presence of Taggart and Vynn.  When she was close enough she leapt into his arms with a delighted squeal.  Lyyl was amazed at how much she had matured since last he had seen her.  The force of her leap made it necessary for him to swing around in a circle with her latched onto his neck.  She hugged him tightly and then kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re here.  I can’t believe it,” she squealed while jumping up and down excitedly.

“I can’t believe it either,” he answered.  “What…I mean, why are you here?  We’re at war Toria.”

Taggart stepped in.  “It is a long story, and one which I have no doubt that she will relate to you half a hundred times before the sun falls.”

Toria shot him a glare.

Taggart continued, “We are near to your cousin’s base of operations, and we need to get there before dark fall.”  He turned to look at Vynn.  “Would it be acceptable for her to walk along with us?  Give them a chance to catch up on the last few days.”

Vynn nodded.  “Of course.  Just keep to the front of the column with us so you can guide us.”  The King’s Sword looked around at the nearby hills and trees.  “Tophar, I think we would benefit from posting outriders, don’t you?”

Vynn knew that outriders would be necessary in this type of terrain, but his style of command was to phrase orders in such a way as to be perceived as questions or suggestions.  That way when matters of life and death were at issue a sharp command was given much more attention.

Tophar looked a tad discomfited.  He knew he should have already noted the need and taken the action on his own accord.  “I do,” he agreed and spurred his charon forward to issue the appropriate commands.

Toria and Lyyl walked along as the caravan began moving again.  They were both talking rapidly to each other, discussing the recent events that had befallen them.  Taggart listened for a while, enjoying their delight at being reunited.

Vynn had dropped back further in the column to check on something leaving Taggart alone with his thoughts.  He was thinking of Dwan, of course, where was she, was she safe, etc.  He imagined he could detect the smell of the sea, and it made him anxious to think he was getting closer to her.  He would take her safely from the Aspell castle redoubt if he had to leave a trail of broken pirate bodies behind him.  Under the circumstances he planned to do just that.

He concentrated on their situation and was pondering the most favorable ways to devise an assault against the invading pirates when suddenly he was having a difficult time concentrating.  He fought against the fog that began to settle in around the edges of his vision.  He slowed his gait and moved farther to the side of the road so as to not impede those behind him.

He began to get a little worried.  Why was he feeling this way?  It felt unsettling but somehow…familiar.  He stepped off of the packed dirt road and found a tree to lean on.  He did not trust himself not to trip and fall on his face in his condition.  To those passing it would seem that he was simply taking a breather from the trek.

Taggart’s vision now was completely obliterated by the fog.  His heart hammered and sped in his chest as he feared he was on the verge of being returned to his other life.  He would not be able to bear the torture of being so close to his loved one only to be snatched away again.

The fog thinned to a haze and then to a light mist.  He saw shapes.  The mist cleared, and he was seeing a line of women.  They were being herded through a city, the streets of which were unfamiliar.  Others lined the road prodding with sticks and lashing with short whips.  The women were crying as they were torn away from their men and babies.  Some men were fighting back, but they were unarmed and were quickly overpowered and left broken in the streets.

Taggart fought to gain more information from whatever it was that was channeling this information to him.  He again felt that he recognized what was happening to him.  Yes, he remembered now, but that was a long time ago, and Tinker had not been at his side for many months.

In his vision he was now seeing the women herded down to a wide, flat pier.  Sea-eagles hovered on the air currents above their heads.  The smell of the sea was stronger now, almost overpowering.  The image flooded more dramatically into his brain.  He could make out forms bobbing in the distance and larger ones tied to the piers.  They were ships.  The women were being loaded into ships.  His heart hammered more strongly within him.  He saw men, warriors, attacking the others, trying to free the women, but they were badly outnumbered and being driven back.

Then he saw only black.  He heard nothing.  He stood there blind and deaf until he was able to hear a voice coming to him from far away.  He could not make it out at first, but it grew steadily louder.  He strained to break free of the trance in which he was being held.

Then the world came crashing back into his senses.  He felt the heat and smelled the dust.  Vynn was standing before him, looking up at his face, trying to make him come back. 

“Can you hear me?” he shouted.

Taggart gripped his friend’s shoulder.  “Yes.  Yes I can hear you now.”

Vynn looked as if he wasn’t quite certain that he could.  “What happened to you?”

Taggart held up a hand to stop him talking and give himself a chance to consider what had happened and what he had seen.  Vynn realized that the big man needed time to analyze his experience.  A couple of warriors started toward them to offer assistance, but he waved them away.

Finally Taggart looked at Vynn with determination in his eyes.  “I think we may be too late,” he said.

Vynn and Taggart sent for Tophar and stopped the caravan again.  They cleared the area near the head of the procession so that they could talk in privacy.  They considered Taggart’s vision from every angle.  When they were finally done they all agreed on a course of action.

Taggart came striding quickly back to where Lyyl and Toria were sitting on a fallen log by the side of the road.  “You, Lyyl, I need you to go to the provisions wagon, and get enough food for two people to last three days.  Then there are two charon saddled and waiting for us up ahead.  You’re going to show me the closest route to Aspell.”

Lyyl jumped up and started to act but caught himself.  “Take no offense, but are these orders from you or Lord Vynn.”

“No offense taken, Warrior.  They are from Vynn, he will be the one holding the charon.  I will be up there as soon as I recover my gear.”

“I’m coming too,” Toria said.

“No you’re…Oh hell, why not, at least I can keep an eye on you that way.  Run forward, and tell Vynn we’ll need three charon.  I don’t have time to argue with you, but understand that you will keep up or we’ll leave you behind.”

After pulling his pack out of one of the wagons Taggart swung it over one shoulder.  He almost left the bow that Geord had given him but then decided against it.  With the practicing he had been doing while he had been confined to his
other
existence the powerful weapon might come in handy. 

When he reached the head of the column he saw that Toria was already in the saddle.  All three charon appeared to be fresh and rested.  Two were normal sized for Olvion, looking much like the Arabian breed on Earth.  They had slim barrels and muscular legs.  The one they had scrounged up for Taggart was much larger, probably having been bred as a pack animal, but it showed plenty of spirit.  Two other charon were packed with food, water and other necessities.  Taggart tied his pack to his charon and tied the unstrung bow to the saddle so that it rode beneath his leg.  He had his black leather vest on, and his sword was nestled securely in the sheath sewn into the garment so that it rode diagonally across his back.  The arrangement made the weapon quickly available to him when needed.  Into his belt were tucked his long knife and his war mace.  He swung up into the saddle.  Vynn handed him the reins.

“Are you sure you want to take her,” he beckoned with his head toward Toria.

“I think so.  I’ve seen her ride, she won’t slow us down any.  Frankly I have no idea what we are going to find when we reach Aspell.  She might be helpful if we need to sneak someone inside the stronghold.  She climbs like a monkey.”

Vynn’s face showed confusion.

Taggart explained.  “A monkey is an animal from my world.  It lives in the trees.  It is much like a tarwil only it has a longer tail.”

Vynn looked unconvinced.  “Well I suppose you know what you’re doing.  May the stars light your path, Good Warrior.”  He walked over to where Lyyl sat on his charon waiting.  He pointed to Taggart.  “That man,” he said, “is an experienced warrior.  The Queen has conveyed upon him the rank of Sub-Commander.  I expect you to follow his instructions.  I also expect you to keep yourself and your cousin safe.”

With that the three galloped away.

***

Tinker and mate sat silently on the peak of one of the lower foothills leading out of the mountains and down to the seaside kingdom of Aspell.  It had not been necessary for her to tell Mate that she was connecting with her human.  He would be quiet until she roused herself.