The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) (17 page)

There was another second of silence, and then the room broke out in laughter.  The girl looked around, saw that Grange had scored the point, then sat abruptly down, picked up a bread roll from her neighbor’s plate and hurled it at Grange, missing him by a few inches as he ducked.

Jenniline gave him a covert wink, and nodded to an open spot across the table from where she was taking a seat with her companions, and Grange strolled over.

“Tranch, I’m Grange,” he sat down next to the man who had insulted Jenniline upon her arrival.  “What’s this I hear that you’re trying to marry Jenniline off to me already?   And then you’ll take a couple of minutes of my time?” he realized that he was going to have to be as direct and forward as the roomful of nobles was apparently accustomed to being towards each other.

“She’s not one of the princesses, is she?” he turned to Jenniline immediately and spoke about the girl he had crossed words with.  “She seems spunky.”

Tranch laughed.  “We’ll put those two minutes off for a day or two,” he slapped Grange’s back hard, with one beefy hand, in appreciation of his words.

“No, she’s not a princess; she’s Tranch’s own daughter,” Jenniline replied with a straight face, drawing laughter from those around the table.  “You’re blessed not to have to worry about that problem.”

“Where’s my food?” Jenniline suddenly roared loudly, waving a hand to draw the attention of the servers.  “And bring some for the Champion of the God too,” she added loudly.

A pair of servants came hurrying towards them, one carrying two platters of food, while the other carried a pitcher and two empty flagons.  As they approached, a foot suddenly stuck out into the aisle.

Grange watched as the lad carrying the drinks tripped, and his sloshing load of wine began to tumble directly towards Grange.

Without even thinking or considering what he was doing, or how to do it, Grange uttered a request to the energy.  “Power, help!” he breathed the words.

The servant continued to fall, and the pitcher left his grip.  But Grange saw a momentary glow of energy surrounding the pitcher and the two flagons.  As he and every other astounded observer watched, the flagons tumbled, veered, and flew – then landed upright, in positions directly in front of Grange and Jenniline.  And at the same time, the flood of wine that was emerging from the pitcher also turned a corner and moved itself into the confines of the flagons, while the mostly empty pitcher came to a soft landing on the table as well.

The servant girl who carried the two plates of food for the newcomers was so startled that she dropped the plates she was carrying while they were still a couple of inches above the table surface.  Her hands flew to her face, and the plates landed loudly.

There was a moment of silence, and then an uproar.  Men and women at the table either jumped or fell backwards, or simply stared at Grange in open-mouthed astonishment.

“Good god, Grange!  Did you do that?” Jenniline asked.

“My lord, forgive me,” the servant boy hadn’t even risen from where he had sprawled on the floor after tripping.

Grange stood up.

“Whose foot stuck out there to trip the boy?” he asked, looking down the aisle at the trio of people who were the likely candidates for having committed the prank.

No one spoke up.

“Perhaps I’ll not need those two minutes of your time,” Tranch said weakly from beside him, drawing a set of nervous titters.

Grange looked around.  Everyone was tense, astonished and fearful.  His ability and reaction were completely outside their experience and comprehension.  It was a delicate moment.  He realized that he could pursue attacking the person who had tripped the boy, possibly overplaying his hand, and causing not just fear, but resentment.  But he had to find some way to sit back down without looking indecisive.

He looked at the boy who had carried the ale, looking up at him fearfully, expecting to be punished.

Grange reached his hand down, and pulled the servant up to his feet, dusted him off, then sat down. 

“Is that how you always deliver ale?” Grange asked.  “You could charge admission for people to watch.”

There was a wave of relieved laughter, as Grange turned to his plate of food, and the moment receded.

The two servants left, while Jenniline grabbed a piece of roast chicken off her plate with her fingers and started eating it with relish.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Tranch asked Grange, eyeing the small, stuffed pie that sat next to the chicken on Grange’s plate.

“I’m hungry enough,” Grange said.  He had expected some type of cutlery, but saw none on the table, and as he looked around, there was none being used by anyone else.

The musician resumed playing tunes, satisfied that there was no imminent outbreak of battle.

With a mental shrug, Grange picked up the stuffed pastry, then bit into it.  It was steaming hot, and he quickly grabbed his flagon of wine to cool the burning in his mouth.

“So, where are you from, my lord champion?” a girl beside Tranch asked.

Grange gulped down his mouthful of food.

“I lived in Fortune for a long time, but then I lived in Palmland for a few months, before I went to Kilau,” he answered.

The listeners at the table had heard of Fortune, and there were rumbling complaints about the unfair shipping and business practices of the Tyrant who ruled Verdant.

“I’ve not heard of Palmland or Kilau,” another member of the crowd spoke up.  “Where are they?”

“Palmland’s way up north,” someone ventured.  “Beyond the mountains.”

“It is,” Grange agreed.  “It’s so far north, they don’t have winter time,” he told the listeners.

“You’re making that up!” Tranch objected.

“No, it’s true,” Grange insisted.  “It gets a little cooler in the summer time, but no worse than spring in Fortune.  And Kilau is an island in the sea north of Palmland.  It’s always warm there.”

He took another cautious bite of the pie, as the people around him speculated about living in a place without winter.

“You’re serious?” one man asked after a lengthy debate, as Grange finished the pie and started on his chicken.

“As serious as a fire in a hayloft,” Grange assured him.

He listened with half an ear to the continuing discussion, then watched as Jenniline rose from her seat.  “I’ll be back,” she promised, then left the dining room.

Grange listened to others talk, and then listened to the music that was playing as well.  It was being played with a cadence that was different from what he had played in other lands, and he unconsciously tapped the table with the fingers of his free hand as he tried to familiarize himself with the music.  It seemed challenging and forced, but the musician in the corner played without any faltering or problems.

“I’ve had enough for dinner,” Grange said as he stood.  He abruptly felt the need to move around, to get up and go somewhere and do something.  The sky visible through the windows was deep red, and night would soon fall, he was sure.  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” he addressed the table.  “Please tell Jenniline I’ll see her tomorrow,” he added.

He listened to a round of surprised voices wish him farewell, and then he was out the door, with a wave to the musician and the memory of the tune stuck in his head.  He planned to try it when he returned to his room at the top of his tower, where his flute resided.

But that would be later.

First, he was going to leave the palace grounds and return to the Temple of Acton, where such stupendous revelations had occurred earlier in the day.  He planned to talk to the god.

Chapter 14

Grange left the palace grounds easily, by simply walking past the guards at the gate.  He anticipated no problems returning to the palace either; he could use his wizard skills and call upon the power to cower the guards at the gate if he had to, although he hoped that his name as Champion of Acton would be enough by itself.

He was on his way to Acton’s temple, to speak to the god.  He wanted to learn many things – especially regarding the use of the power.  He wouldn’t have traded in a moment of his time in Kilua, he told himself, but he wished he had been given more time to spend with Brieed, undergoing training in the art of being a wizard.

As it was, he was going to have to learn now, and he supposed Acton was the best one to teach him.  There really was no second choice that he knew of.

A small disturbance sounded in a doorway across the street as he walked towards the temple, and then a man came stumbling towards him.

“You ought to give up now,” the man said when he had come quite close to Grange.  Grange cocked his head to look at the man.  His comment was random and irrelevant.  Grange then suddenly jumped back, as he saw that there was a dark shadow, darker than the other shadows cast by the flickering torch streetlights – a dark shadow on the back of the man’s neck.  He was possessed by a demon.

“Ariana!” Grange called for his sword.  It was back in the palace, and would take some time to arrive, he realized, but Grange hoped he could dance away from conflict with the demon until it did arrive.

“That’s touching that you still call for the dead jewel seducer,” the demon said, making no sudden moves.

“Why are you here?  What do you want?” Grange asked.

“I just wanted to warn you,” the demon answered.  “Your arrival here is impressive, considering the condition you were in at last report, but even having made it this far, you still cannot bridge the vast chasm that awaits you.

“Better to kill yourself now,” he advised.

“You do know that I’ve beat every demon I’ve faced so far?” Grange pointed out.  “And now I have a God as a partner.”

“A god who is busy playing with the ladies of the city!” the demon said scornfully.  “He’ll be no good to you when you need him.

“And you’ve had easy opponents so far.  The demons you’ve faced so far were from the weakest tribe of our kind, the Delials.  The next wave will be from the Asmodeus tribe.  The great Darkness has decided to unleash its greater tribe upon you and this weary land now, to make the battle more surely a victory for us,” the demon boasted.

“You should simply surrender.  Commit suicide.  Disappear from this place,” it urged.

Grange could feel his sword approaching, getting closer.

“Don’t worry,” the demon said.  “I know that cursed blade is almost here.  I’ll leave you now, but know that your doom is sealed, and you’d be better off to die now.  Your jewels are already dead, aren’t they?”

The face of the possessed man suddenly went blank, and Grange saw the darkness of the demon run down the man’s back.  The eyes rolled back, then shut, then the body collapsed, and Grange reached out quickly to catch him before he hit the cobblestone street surface hard.

He laid the body out, then quickly stabbed his right hand in the air, just in time to capture the arriving sword he had summoned.  He wanted to kill the demon, to strike at it for the impunity it had shown in confronting him, right in the center of Southgar, in the midst of the place where Grange was strongest.  But the demon was gone, out of sight and safe from his wrath.

Sobered by the encounter, Grange held his sword in his hand as he marched towards Acton’s temple, thankful that he remembered the route Jenniline had led him on when they had walked from the temple to the palace earlier in the day.  Within minutes he entered the large square and saw the massive columns of the temple, lit by the flickering rays of several torches in front of the structure.

There were many people entering and leaving the temple, to Grange’s surprise, given that night had fallen.  He walked across the square with his head down, thinking about all that he needed to speak to Acton about, wondering how the relationship with the deity was going to develop.

When he reached the steps he walked up, and straight through a set of massive doors, entering the temple for the first time.  A large set of doors straight ahead seemed to offer the most direct way to reach Acton, so Grange strode though those doors, past the people who mingled in the antechamber.

Inside the central sanctum of the temple, there were lanterns illuminating the large, high-ceilinged room, and a pair of priests chanting praises in front of a massive portrait of Acton that hung on the far wall.  But there was no evidence of the god himself.  Grange walked forward, down the center aisle, past the scattered people who sat or knelt in worship, right up to railing at the front of the sanctuary.

He saw a large door, off to one side, a door far larger than any human would need to open – one so large that it was undoubtedly too heavy for most humans to open.  It seemed the logical place for Grange to head to find the god, so he walked across the front of the space, and approached the door, then pounded on it with his fist.

The massive construction of the metal-bound wooden door swallowed up the force of his pounding, creating only a hollow tremor, so he pounded on it again, putting all the strength in his arm and his body into creating a noticeable indication of his arrival.

“Here now, get away from there,” a guard arrived to stop his actions.

“I’m trying to see the God,” Grange said.  “I’m his Champion, and I have to talk to him.”

“You’re a disturbance, and you need to leave,” the guard replied caustically.  He reached out to grab Grange’s arm with a large beefy hand.

Grange shook him off and backed away

“Power, please help me, put up a shield to protect me from this man,” he called upon the energy.

A bright red dome suddenly appeared over Grange, cutting him off from the guard, who exclaimed loudly.  The whole sanctum was bathed in the lurid glow from the magical edifice Grange had created.  The priests faltered in their chanting, and the worshippers shouted, or silently exited from the scene.  A pair of additional armed guards came running forward.

“Who are you and what are you doing?  Stop disrupting the worship of mighty Acton – leave this place immediately!” one of the guards demanded.

“I have been chosen by Acton to be his Champion,” Grange said calmly.  “I wish to converse with him.”