The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu (7 page)

Riding out from the hobgoblin village, Zormat struggled to control the unruly three-toed ass.  This was not one of his father’s creations and as such, he had no special command of this beast.  Shaggat was faring only slightly better, continually slapping his mount and formulating ever more colorful strings of curses.  And so, they bounced along on their days long journey to the coast where the ship and its crew awaited. 

***

The sun was low in the western sky when Hadaras remarked, “We should probably find a spot to camp for the night,” startling Aleron awake.  “That hilltop to the northeast looks like it has some cover,” he continued, pointing ahead and to the left at a wooded hilltop.  They were travelling through an area of rolling hills with mixed patches of forest and shrubby grassland.  They had spooked several deer, but the two had resisted the temptation to take one, as they had not the time to process a large game animal.  They did, however, take three rabbits with blunted arrows that afternoon, so they would dine well that night.

Aleron yawned and stretched, then stated, “I can’t wait to slip into my bedroll tonight.  I’m so tired I’ll be asleep before my head hits the ground.”

“If we get settled in early enough, Aleron, I’ll take a longer first watch, so you can get more sleep.”

“That wouldn’t be fair, Grandfather.  I’ll take my full share of the watch.”

“My boy, when you get to be my age, you don’t need as much sleep as a lad still growing, like yourself,” Hadaras explained.  “I can see that you need a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.  Otherwise, you are likely to get sick, if you go night after night without sleep.”

“All right,” Aleron agreed.  “I sure could use some sleep.”

They came upon a narrow track leading off the main path to the left.  It appeared to lead to the hilltop in question and they followed it.  They halted at a stream crossing to allow the horses a brief drink and to refill the water skins.  Though there was no shortage of water in this part of the world, a smart traveler never passed up the opportunity to top off.  They continued to follow the path and were happy to note that, a bit further along, it rejoined and followed the stream towards the base of the hill.  That was good news, as it meant that they would have less of a walk to water the horses after they cooled down.  Nearing the base of the hill small trickle branched off from the main stream and the path followed that up the hill.  The smaller stream led to a spring that was enlarged into two pools, the higher one for travelers and the lower for livestock.  Both pools had been smartly edged with stone, bringing the water level higher to form deep troughs.  This was obviously a maintained rest stop, but maintained by who was the question. 

As the two continued up the path, the brush gave way to larger trees, mostly oak, with some ash.  They could smell the smoke of a cook fire ahead and knew that they would not be alone that night.  “Be on your guard Aleron.  We cannot know what sort of people we might encounter on the road, or what their intentions might be.”

“I understand, Grandfather,” He answered.

A bit further, they were able to hear faint music, from some sort of stringed instrument.  They proceeded with caution.  What bothered Hadaras was not so much that there was someone ahead, but that he had no sense of the one ahead. 
I can pick out the minds of most men from miles away, but of this, I sense nothing. 
When they rounded the last bend of the trail and came within sight of the sheltered glade, just below the top of the hill, they saw the man.  Seated on the ground, with his back against a log, he had his legs stretched toward a modest fire and was playing a zither, held in his lap.  The intricate tune he plucked from the strings was hauntingly beautiful.  He ignored the newcomers, until his song was complete.  Hadaras and Aleron dismounted and simply stood immersed in the strange melody.

The stranger stopped playing, looked up at the pair and said, “Welcome friends.  I hope you enjoyed my meager attempt at musician-hood.  Please, make yourselves at home.  I have little, but what I have is yours to share.  My name is Cladus.”  He stood then, gently leaning the instrument against the log.  He was tall and generally handsome, with long brown hair and moustache, but no beard.  His eyes were a bright emerald green that seemed ill matched to the man’s complexion.  He wore sturdy boots, with trousers and tunic that, though worn and mended in a few spots, were of good quality and clean.  He wore no sword, but he had a pair of long knives fixed horizontally to the back of his belt.  His lone horse was picketed beneath a large sheltering oak.

“Well met Cladus, I am Hadaras and my young charge here is Aleron.  We have food to share as well and would welcome a place at your fire.”

“Excellent, let me help you with the horses then.”

After they unpacked and rubbed down the horses, Aleron led them back down to the waterhole to drink their fill.  When he led them back up the hill to picket then and tie on their feedbags, Hadaras and Cladus had the rabbits dressed and spitted over the fire.  Hadaras had mixed up a pot of bannock.  Now he was busy winding the dough around sticks for baking over the fire.  Cladus used one of his long knives to reduce  longer limbs to  usable firewood lengths.  The knife’s blade was over a foot long and thick, with a spear point shape and a single cutting edge. 

It seemed more like a butcher’s cleaver than a fighting weapon.  Hadaras commented, “That’s a Sultean seaxe, isn’t it?  Not too common this side of the mountains.” 

“Yes, I spent a few years with the westmen.  The people are nice and friendly up there, though the girls play a little rough,” he added, in jest.  He looked at Aleron as he said it, with a mischievous glint in his eye.   Aleron was happy the light of the fire masked the redness of his face as he settled down by the men.  Cladus continued, “Looks like you need to get this youngster to bed.  He looks dead on his feet.”

Before Aleron could reply, Hadaras agreed, “That’s the plan.  He didn’t get much rest last night with the two of us swapping watch shifts.”

“Don’t worry, young man,” Cladus said to Aleron, “you will eventually learn how to sleep with one eye open.  All of us who travel the wilderness alone acquire the skill.”

After they ate, Aleron settled into his bedroll and promptly fell asleep, as Cladus played a new tune on the zither.  He identified himself to the others as a travelling bard, earning his keep with songs, stories and news, wherever he went.  After the boy was sound asleep, the bard stated, “Let’s not pretend anymore; shall we my friend?  The two of you have some secrets about you, as do I.”  He continued, “I could sense the horses and the boy from a mile away, but your presence was a complete surprise.”

“I, as well, could smell the fire and hear the music, but no mind could I sense,” Hadaras offered.  “It seems you have some ability.  May I ask, from where?”

“Let’s just say, that I was born a couple hundred years ago on the northwest coast, right on the border with the colonies in fact.”

“Was it your mother or father?”

“My father was the source of my elvish blood,” Cladus answered.  “He took good care of my mother and me, until I was grown and she passed away.  Then, he disappeared back to the elvish lands.  I haven’t seen him in nearly one hundred fifty years.  So yes, that boy you have there is not the only half-blood wandering these lands.  I have encountered a few of us over the years.  As for you, my new friend, I sense nothing of Man in you.”

“Fair enough,” Hadaras conceded, his human features smoothly morphing to elvish.  “The boy is my grandson, my daughter’s son.  I’ve been raising him since he was two.”

“Does he know what he is?”

“No”

“What happened to his parents?”

“They passed through the veil nearly thirteen years ago.”

“Thirteen years eh,” Cladus mused, “thirteen years ago, the Kolixtlanis were looking for a halfblood boy.  Word of it travelled quickly among us magicians who knew of one another.  Is this the boy?  Is that what became of his parents?”

Chapter 7

Gurlachday, Day 1, Growing Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar

After five bone-jarring days of riding, Zormat had only thoughts of murder for the yag.  Unruly, cantankerous and omnivorous, it was the perfect mount for a goblin, but not necessarily an elf, even an elf that was one-eighth goblin.  They rounded a bend in the trail and it opened to a clear grassy sward, with the beachhead just beyond.  He scanned southward down the beach and could see his ship moored in the distance.  There appeared to be a small group massed on the beach.  They rode down the beach at a vigorous trot, the yag’s odd feet floating on the loose sandy soil.  As they neared the group, he could see that they were men, dressed in light armor and appearing to be soldiers of some sort.  Closing to within thirty paces of the group, they halted the mounts and Zormat handed the reins to Shaggat.  He dismounted and strode purposefully to the group.  The apparent leader shouted something at him in a language he did not understand and the six lancers flanking him raised their weapons to a guard position.  Two archers, armed with longbows, moved to the outer flanks to provide cover.  Zormat drew his sword, glowing like red flame, even in the bright afternoon sun.  The seven-pointed star on his forehead flared with the same fire.  The leader gave a quick hand signal and the soldiers stood down.  He said something else that Zormat did not understand, but its tone sounded reasonable.

We do not speak the same tongue, so I will communicate with you in this manner,
Zormat spoke into the mind of the leader, sheathing his sword as he came to a halt. 
Speak as you normally would and I will understand you while we are so connected.

“I can understand you, stranger,” the leader offered, then asked, “Who are you and why do you travel with the goblin?  Do you belong to this vessel?”

The ship is mine, yes and this goblin has been my guide from the jungle interior.  I have journeyed to and from Immin Bul and I have much work remaining.

You bear the mark of the Nameless God, but I do not recognize you from any folk who worship him.  What is your business in Kolixtlan?

I come at my Father’s bidding, from a far off land, to spread the word amongst his people that he will soon be freed from his prison. 

With the wordless transmission of thought, the full import of the title “Father” hit the man like a battering ram.  He immediately genuflected, saying, “Son of the Nameless God, please forgive me my insolence.”  At their leader’s words and actions, the other soldiers dropped their weapons in the sand and dropped to one knee as well, averting their eyes to the ground.

To the group he said,
Rise, my friends.  I took no insult from you performing your duties.  I am still unknown in these lands.
I am Zormat, King of Arkus. 
To Shaggat he said, “Ride back to your people, my friend and spread the word that our day approaches.  Prepare for war!” 

The hobgoblin wheeled his mount, tugging the reigns of the second yag to follow, saying, “Yes Lord, I will spread the news to all of my people!” before riding off at a brisk trot.  

To the leader of the men he said,
I must journey to your capital and speak to your king and his priests.  What is your name and what rank do you hold among your people?

“My Lord,” the man replied, now standing again, “I am Matlal, Captain of the army garrison at Ixtauhac, just north of here.  We have been monitoring your vessel for over a week and we have sent riders south to alert the nearest naval ships in port.  There will be warships making their way up the coast by now.”

I imagined as much would be afoot and that could add unnecessary complication.  Will they be likely to attack or hail first?

“Most likely, they will attack and then search the ship when all the crew are killed or captured, my Lord.”

That would not happen, but I would prefer not to destroy the ships of my allies.  Is there one among you that you can spare to accompany us?  And a banner, perhaps, that we might display friendly intent? 

Matlal replied, “I will be the one to accompany you, my Lord, if you will have me.  We can fly my unit banner off the bow.  It will confuse them at first, but they will recognize it as Kolixtlani.  That will keep them from attacking before they ask to board.”

Will you not be missed at your post, Captain?

“I will send word to my Lieutenant to assume command, Lord.  He is a capable young man who will do fine running the garrison for a couple weeks,” the Captain answered.  To one of the lancers he said, “Soldier, get me the banner and move smartly.”  As the soldier moved out, the Arkan, rowing the small boat from the ship, was almost within reach of the shore.

***

As Aleron readied the horses that morning, Hadaras recalled the words Cladus had left him with several mornings past,
Keep a close watch on that boy, my friend.  There is something about him that’s goes beyond him being a half-blood.  The lad is a focal point of both light and dark and I sense unfathomable power within him.  One of my gifts is a keen sense for potential and I sense in him, depths of potential I have never before sensed in an individual.  Given the chance, that boy of yours might even surpass the power of Goromir of old. 
The words troubled him, as he could not sense Aleron’s potential in such concrete terms.  Every sorcerer had his or her own special gifts and if that was Cladus’, he dared not ignore the warning.  Also troubling, was the casual resurgence of the name he had not used in four thousand years.

“I think we’re ready, Grandfather,” Aleron called, breaking Hadaras from his contemplation of the events of days past.  He was leading the horses to the spot where Hadaras and the bags were waiting.  They worked together to finish loading the animals, then donned their helms and mounted.  Neither spoke much that morning, as if both were deeply involved in their own thoughts. 

A bell or more had passed when Aleron spoke up, “Grandfather,  I had a strange dream last night.  I was wondering if you could tell me if it means anything.”