The Dieya Chronicles: Incident on Ravar

By John Migacz

Across the galaxy, humans are at war with a merciless enemy bent on annihilation of the human race. Created by the Human Alliance League, the Dieya Corps of planetary wardens protect evolving worlds from contact with advanced civilizations. On the medieval planet of Ravar one such sentinel discovers a covert operation controlled by the human race's most deadly enemy. Cut off from outside help, he must rely upon the strong swords of two of Ravar's best-known mercenaries to stop the coming invasion. Are swords, cunning and human courage enough to turn the tide?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Migacz
• Release date: Feb 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452456485

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The Baron gazed out his bedchamber window at Ravar’s twin moons. Both hung full in a clear night sky with Flantra leading Monla in their eternal dance. For a moment their bright light illuminated memories of moonlit walks with fair maidens and he was young again, lost in the aroma of flowers and perfume.

A cold draft ended his reverie and he snapped shut the heavy green drapes. Clutching his robe tighter around his wattled neck, he shuffled to the beckoning fireplace to warm his hands. The winter weather gnawed at him constantly, a telltale sign of his advancing years.

Hands extended, he stared at the fire. The dancing flames on the glowing coals mesmerized him. Was life like fire? A fire that burned hottest in youth, then slowly cooled to embers, then ash? Was there anything beyond the ash?

I would have gotten those for you in a moment, M’lord.

He blinked and inclined his head. What was that?

The elderly valet gestured toward the window. The drapes, M’lord. I would have drawn those in a moment.

That’s all right, Elaz. What you’re doing is more important.

The valet nodded and continued shuffling the three bronze bed-warming pans between the sheets. The Baron stared at the motion then sighed. Every year he seemed to need another pan.

All ready for you, Your Lordship, said Elaz, placing the pans on the fireplace hearth.

The Baron reached for his sash but the thought of forgoing the robe’s warmth gave him a chill. He left it on and climbed into bed. Elaz drew the heavy woolen quilt over his master and tucked it under his chin. The Baron sighed with pleasure. For a delightful moment he almost felt warm. Thank you, Elaz.

Will you be needing anything else, Sir?

No, I’m fine. Good night.

Good night, Sir. Elaz drew the blood-red bed curtains and bent to cover any opening where drafts might enter. He blew out the candles and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The Baron felt weary to his bones and was glad that sleep came quickly.

He awoke with a shiver. It was far colder in the room than it should be. Parting the bed curtains, he peered at the fire to see if it had gone out. The glowing coals told him otherwise.

A breeze stirring the drapes caught his eye. What was this? Who had opened the window? Is someone there? he said, reaching up for the valet cord.

A dark figure loomed over him and grabbed his wrist in a crushing grip. The Baron barely managed a gasp before a rough hand covered his mouth. Fear surged through him and he struggled but could not loosen the hand.

Quiet! hissed a harsh voice.

The smell of rancid oil invaded the Baron’s nostrils as a face moved closer to his. By the fire’s dying embers he saw his attacker’s cold eyes, bright now from the pleasure of inflicting pain. He trembled.

I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, the man said quietly. Don’t say a word.

Suddenly the hand was gone. The Baron inhaled deeply. Wh-what do you want?

A savage smile raised the corners of his attacker’s mouth. I want you to scream.

What?

Scream!

The attacker’s grip tightened on the Baron’s wrist and bones snapped. His scream was cut short by a hard round object forced into his mouth. Panic filled him as the thing crawled deep into his throat on spidery legs. He thrashed and clawed wildly at his attacker with his free hand, but it was like fighting a man made of stone.

You should feel blessed to be so chosen.

The words didn’t reassure the Baron. He arched in agony as red-hot needles sizzled deep into his brain. He felt the thing drilling into the bone just below his eyes. Searing waves of fire surged through his body.

With a blinding flash the pain suddenly ceased and he opened his eyes. All he saw was a wall of white, as if his eyes were no longer connected to his brain. He felt his memories disappearing, draining away one by one. His sense of self began to fade.

As consciousness slipped into oblivion, his last thought was that finally, he was warm.

CHAPTER 1

The old stone inn was quieter than usual. Only a scattered handful of men huddled over their drinks. The steady rain had kept away most of the casual drinkers and it was past time for the arrival of coach travelers. An abundance of candles failed to dispel the damp gloom that filled the room.

Padek fretted about the lack of business but worried more about the hearth. He studied the large communal fire, trying to gauge how long it would burn. Running out of dry wood was embarrassing. Only a poor innkeeper would let his fire die. He ran his sausage-sized fingers over his balding pate.

It will burn for a while longer, said the young barmaid with a reassuring smile.

I hope so, Molli. He hid his discomfort with a gesture toward the common room. Go make the rounds and see if anyone needs more drink.

She smoothed her dress and tucked a loose strand of her dark hair back under her bonnet before hoisting pitchers of ale and wine.

Padek retied the apron around his wide girth and silently cursed Flantra and Monla for the extended cold spring rains. The woodshed had been leaking for weeks but no one had told him. After the sound beating he had given the kitchen boy, he knew it wouldn’t happen again, but that didn’t dry the wood.

He sent Molli to check on dinner and wiped down the already spotless bar. Padek felt more on edge than called for under the circumstances and had a sense there was something odd in the air tonight. He hoped it would amount to nothing.

The weighty front door crashed open and three heavily-armed men stomped in from the steady downpour.

Wine! bellowed the largest of the three. His snarling dark face and black eyes bespoke of cruelty and savagery.

Tonkin! gasped Padek. His surprise rooted him to the wooden floor.

Be quick about it, fool! ordered Tonkin as he and his men made for the far corner table.

Padek leapt as if stung. Right away, Sir. He slammed three large goblets on the bar and hurriedly spilled wine across each. Grabbing the brimming cups he sped across the room, arriving before the men had settled into their seats. Will there be anything else, good Sirs? he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

Just keep the wine coming, replied Tonkin.

Beads of sweat popped out on Padek’s forehead and he shifted from foot to foot. Begging your pardon, Sir, but you haven’t paid your bill from the last time you were here, and…

Tonkin glared, then leaned back in his chair, idly dropping his hand to his sword hilt.

Padek glanced down at the sword and swallowed. …and I’ll just put tonight’s bill with the other.

Tonkin grunted in dismissal and pulled Transor dice from his pocket.

Padek returned to the bar and wiped it quickly, as if the effort would whisk away his fears. Molli returned from the kitchen carrying a tray of clean mugs and stopped short when she spied Tonkin. Her face lost all color.

Yes. He’s here, said Padek.

Molli stared at Tonkin and moved closer to Padek. He frightens me like no other, she whispered.

Padek stared at the bar and scrubbed harder. Once, at that very table, Tonkin cut off the fingers of a man who accidentally drank from his cup. He looked at Molli. You know, being an innkeeper makes me a fine judge of men. Folks come in and I can read ‘em like that. He snapped his fingers. Some are like a crisp ale and some are like a thick honeyed mead. He stared at Tonkin. With him, it’s like being ‘round a terrible vintage gone to vinegar in a rotten cask.

Padek gave himself a little shake and ventured a small smile. Just keep his cup filled and everything will be all right.

Molli glanced at the hearth. And if the fire dies out?

Padek paled and glanced at the fire. Its embers flickered as though they had heard. Let’s just pray it doesn’t.

More wine! bellowed Tonkin.

Fear flashed on Molli’s face though she hurried to comply. She rapidly filled Tonkin’s goblet.

When she finished, Tonkin grabbed her arm and squeezed. Don’t make me have to call you. Shoving her hard, he turned back to the dice game. She stumbled against a nearby table, splashing wine from the pitcher onto her dress.

Molli hurried back to Padek, blinking away tears and massaging her sore arm. Padek, she pleaded, can you fill his cup next time? Please?

He nodded and glanced at the hearth, willing the fire to burn longer. He had wood drying near the kitchen stove and hoped it would be ready in time.

With his mind on the roast mutton, potatoes and beans, Padek scurried about the common room filling empty mugs. Only the rattle of Transor dice and Tonkin’s barking laughter pierced the evening’s quiet. Padek was refilling a pitcher from a large keg when the front door opened with a blast of cold air. A stranger hurried in.

Close the door, you ass! yelled Tonkin without looking up from his game.

The man slammed the door shut, sending water droplets flying from his cloak. Padek studied the new arrival. He was dressed entirely in black from cloak to boots to gloves. The clothing absorbed the light, as if it were the faraway bottom of a deep well. Padek could usually tell the amount of gold in a man’s pouch and be correct to a silver, but this time he was stymied.

The stranger raised his head and threw back the hood of his cloak, stunning Padek for the second time that night. His first thought was that one of the rarely seen northern Arvari had graced his tavern. It took a moment to realize he was wrong. The solemn, craggy features and tall whip-cord lean body could have been those of the woodland folk; but a quick glance at the hands showed five normal fingers. Padek wondered at the man’s age. The body said thirty five, the intense face said fifty. Padek looked deeper and saw a hard man with eyes turned cold by dark experience. The man in black leaned over and wrung out the ends of his long blond hair.

Molli greeted the stranger with a small curtsy. What will it be, M’lord?

The stranger beamed a smile that changed his countenance from hardened vagabond to grinning bard. Why, some food, a room, a little ale and a warm fire would be most welcome, M’lady. The pleasing tones of his voice even sounded like a bard’s. Padek smiled to himself as a blushing Molli escorted the man to a table near the fire.

Be right out with your ale, and dinner’s almost ready, she said, and headed toward the kitchen.

The stranger removed his cloak, spread it on a chair and warmed his hands over the dying embers. He caught Padek’s eye and motioned to the fire. Innkeeper, your fire seems in need of more wood.

Right away, Sir. Padek wrung his hands then pushed a scullery boy toward the kitchen. Get the driest wood you can find and be quick about it! The boy was back in moments with an armload of damp logs. Padek carried them to the fire. Sorry, M’lord, but the wood’s a little wet and will have to dry out a bit more. He spread the logs near the fire.

The stranger looked disappointed, but nodded his acceptance.

Wet wood! yelled Tonkin from across the room. Padek, you are an idiot and I should blacken your eyes.

Sorry, Sir, Padek said with lowered head and downcast eyes.

Tonkin jerked a thumb at the stranger. It grew cold in here when that walked in. Hey you! Get out of the way and stop blocking the heat!

The man in black turned to face his detractor and Tonkin’s eyes narrowed. Well, well, well. What do we have here? He grinned and nudged a comrade. It looks like a half-Arvari! He stared at the stranger. Some Arvari diddle your mother, boy? He laughed.

The stranger’s face grew hard. Friend, we can all share the warmth of the fire. He turned and extended his hands over the glowing coals. But unlike you, I know who my father was.

Tonkin’s face grew bright red and his clenched hands shook with rage. Bastard? He leaped to his feet, chair crashing to the floor behind him. Bastard! Spittle flew from his lips as if he had trouble saying the word. Tonkin’s sword rang from its scabbard with a flash of gleaming metal.

Tonkin! yelled Padek. The man’s unarmed!

With an animal bellow, Tonkin charged across the tavern, sword upraised. In a blur, the stranger stepped inside Tonkin’s swing. Grabbing Tonkin’s sword wrist with one hand and throat with the other, he snatched Tonkin off the ground. Tonkin hung still for an instant as if gripped by iron bands then struggled to no avail. With his free hand he tried to pry the stranger’s hand from his neck.

The man in black gave Tonkin an angry shake and tightened his grip on the man’s throat. You would attack an unarmed man? Kill him for no good reason? He emphasized each sentence with a hard shake. The stranger’s face darkened in anger. I’m tired of what the likes of you do to this world! He squeezed harder and Tonkin’s face grew bright red. A loud crack resounded in the room. Tonkin’s body went limp, tongue lolling from his mouth. The sword clanked to the floor. With a quick, effortless toss, the stranger threw Tonkin’s body ten feet away into the north wall where it smashed with a sickening thud and slid to the floor.

Face still etched with rage, the stranger glared at Tonkin’s cronies. They cringed in their seats. He scanned the rest of the stunned patrons then turned to Padek and roared, I will have heat! He strode to the smoldering coals and tossed on all the wet wood. Standing in front of the fireplace, he held his hands over the logs and murmured something in an odd, sing-song tongue. Bright blue beams of light suddenly streamed from the palms of both hands, bathing the wet logs in a steaming, fiery nimbus. The cold, blue light cast demon shadows on the stranger’s features. Within seconds, the logs were ablaze.

The stranger closed his palms and the beams ceased. He lowered his arms slowly, the rage melting from his face. He sat down and uttered a lone, deep sigh. I’d like my dinner now, please.

Padek nodded, wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve and motioned Molli toward the kitchen.

The patrons chattered in low tones to each other.

– did you see? –

– god’s bells –

– that blue light –

Dieya! It must be Dieya the Sorcerer! exclaimed one of Tonkin’s cronies.

Can’t! Dieya be an old man by now.

Dieya’s eight feet tall and has horns.

Don’t care who he is, you seen what he done to Tonkin. I’m leaving.

Good idea, Wills. I think this is the time for a long goodnight to the wife.

Tonkin’s cronies heading for the door was the opening of the dam. The rest of the inn’s patrons flooded out behind them, never taking their eyes from the man in black.

When Molli returned from the kitchen, tray laden with steaming bowls of mutton, potatoes and beans, she halted in her tracks.

There was only one customer.

Padek took the tray and cautiously approached the stranger. He placed the food on the table and glanced at Tonkin’s body. He wiped his sweating forehead.

The stranger helped himself to the potatoes and beans, but ignored the mutton.

Will there be anything else, Sir? asked Padek.

Yes, I’d like more ale and your best room. Sorry about your sudden loss in trade but this should cover everything. He tossed two gold sovereigns onto the table.

Padek’s eyes widened and he quickly scooped up the coins. Two gold sovereigns were three months’ profit.

Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. First room at the top of the stair is yours and I’ll see to it that you’re not disturbed. He glanced at Tonkin’s body. Not that anyone would, he muttered. Padek caught Molli’s eye. Fill the gentleman’s mug. Then ready the master guest room.

Padek returned to the bar and opened his hand. The gold gleamed on his plump palm. Turning his back to the stranger, he cautiously bit into one. Satisfied, he dropped them into a pocket. Their clink overrode any qualms about his unusual boarder.

Molli filled the stranger’s mug and he flashed a charming smile. She lowered her head to avoid his gaze. Sir, don’t be putting an enchantment on me, please.

The stranger sighed. I don’t do things like that, Molli. I’m smiling because I can see you have a kind heart. I don’t see that often enough in this world.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Well then, kind Sir, be you really Dieya the Sorcerer?

Some in this land call me that, yes.

Have you been to many lands, Sir?

Yes. He rubbed his eyes. More than I care to remember.

Molli curtsied, then left to ready his room.

Dieya ate his dinner slowly. When finished, he tossed a silver down on the table and picked up his cloak. He climbed the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. Pushing open the door to his room, he glanced in, palm upraised. The sparsely furnished room was unoccupied but neat and tidy. A candle burned on the bed table. He entered and closed the door, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The room was freshly dusted and the linen clean. The bed had been turned down and fresh water filled the ewer. A single gold kingscrown flower sat in a small vase on the dresser. He smiled and muttered a quiet, Thank you, Molli.

Raising his left arm, he glanced at the jewel encrusted gold amulet attached to a leather band on the inside of his wrist. His fingers touched the jewels in a pattern that set an alarm ward on the door and window.

Lying down on the bed, he locked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting to the search. It had taken him weeks to narrow down the hunt to this area. By tomorrow he would know for certain. He hoped he wouldn’t find what in his heart he knew he would. Shaking off the feelings of impending doom, he blew out the candle and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 2

With graceful strides and boundless energy, Adrianna climbed Warthgow Keep’s well-worn stone steps two at a time, her leather armor whispering its familiar creak. She entered the sleeping chamber she shared with Balthus and strode to the open window. Drinking in the warmth of dawn’s streaming rays, she inhaled deeply. The Season of Flowers always made her feel so alive – as if the waking earth awoke something in her as well. She felt invigorated and knew it wasn’t just the season. It was also the excitement of this morning’s departure.

She scanned the room with a practiced eye. Balthus had assured her that he had cleared the room of their belongings, but with him it never hurt to double check. On a shelf she spied his helmet, tethered by an old cobweb and covered with a layer of dust. Adrianna shook her head as a resigned, yet amused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She grabbed the helmet by one of its bull horns and made her way to the Keep’s main hall.

The stone walls still held the winter’s freeze and a chill flowed over her as she entered the large room. The wall hangings, once a riot of colors and scenes, had faded over the years. Now they served only to hide the patches in the stonework. A smoky fire crackling in the hearth did little to dispel the cold.

Feet propped up on a rough-hewn wooden table, Balthus leaned well back in his chair. A heavy arctoskin rug covered his large, muscular frame. One powerful hand was curled around the generous mug of Mostaries ale resting on his stomach, and the other dangled to the floor. Adrianna smiled at his unceremonious position.

Balthus was staring at the flames. Fire always fascinated him and he could watch it for hours. He claimed it rejuvenated his mental prowess. She claimed it was just cheap entertainment for the feeble-minded.

They had wintered in Warthgow Keep at the request of Baron Warthgow. Bandit raids had plagued the area the previous winter and the Baron had hired their swords and skills as a safeguard against more assaults. This winter, however, particularly harsh weather had followed a bountiful summer and bandit raids had been few.

Adrianna had enjoyed the respite but was glad to be moving on. As the quiet winter edged toward spring, Balthus’ tales had begun to grow longer and taller, a sure sign that he was ready as well.

Good morning, she said to her longtime companion. The luses should be saddled and loaded by now. It looks like we’re ready to leave.

With obvious effort, Balthus tore his gaze away from the fire and smiled at her. His smile broadened into a grin. Adrianna wore her black leather armor with the silver studding, black knee-length boots and black gloves. Her dark hair trailed down her back in a single braid. Ah, I really love you in black, he sighed. You’ll make a fine looking widow.

And I’ll be one soon if we don’t get you moving and work off your winter fat, she teased.

Fat? Balthus lifted the mug, pounded his rock-hard abdomen and shook his head. You must mean what’s between my ears. He set the mug on the table and stood, arctoskin rug falling to the floor. He too wore his leather armor and was ready to ride.

Balthus spread his heavily muscled arms and stretched. Do we really have to go? he moaned around a yawn.

Do we really have to go? sputtered Adrianna. This was your idea! I don’t understand you. You hate to leave a place once you arrive, then you love being on the trail once we’ve left... She scooted under his upraised arms and hugged him hard. Looking up, she continued, …and then you hate the thought of arriving.

Balthus enfolded her in his arms and smiled down into her dark eyes. It’s because I’m one with the world.

More likely you’re one with yourself and hate being distracted by the world. She gave his hair a sharp tug.

He grinned at her barb and rubbed his head. I know, I know. He released his embrace. But we should be getting on to Duke Lothogorn’s. He buckled his sword across his back as they walked toward the door.

His letter requesting our presence just arrived yesterday, she said. He cannot expect us to drop everything to run to his aid.

He most certainly will. Lotho saved my life once by deflecting a sword thrust that would have finished me. I owe him.

A sly smile crossed Adrianna’s face. The way I heard it, he got up to help during a tavern brawl and passed out on one of your attackers.

Balthus straightened. Nonsense! We battled foes for hours, holding off all comers.

I bet you can’t even remember what that fight was about.

Of course I do. It was about someone being most unreasonable about something or other.

You weren’t singing that night by any chance, were you? she asked with a grin. Anyway, it will be good to see Lotho again.

Yes, it’s been a while, mused Balthus. It must have hurt his pride to ask for our help.

The message said his castle was besieged. Why would anyone do that? Do you think it could be a ruse just to get us to visit?

Every word Lotho speaks is true; just don’t believe anything he tells you.

Is that for my safety or yours? she asked.

Yes, he answered as he swung open the door.

He took the bull-horned helmet from Adrianna and jammed it on his head. Light brown curls trailed out from under the edges and Adrianna made a mental note to trim his hair.

Perhaps we should again thank Sir Warthgow for his hospitality, said Balthus.

No need. He’s still abed from last night’s farewell banquet and knows we’re leaving early.

Yes, he did his share of damage to the wine cellar, didn’t he?

And you helped, she said.

I do what I can to be the perfect guest. He shrugged. Besides, if we didn’t drink it up, two things could happen. The wine might go bad and the steward get punished, or someone could drink too much and awake with a painful head. I have saved someone from a bad fate.

With this perfect Balthus logic, Adrianna knew the topic was closed.

Crossing the courtyard to the stable, they fell into step, their matching footfalls echoing off the stones. The sun’s warm glow banished the night’s chill and Adrianna linked arms with Balthus as they walked.

He acknowledged her touch with a squeeze. Looks like the start of a beautiful day, he said.

Adrianna glanced at the morning sky and inhaled deeply. She patted his arm, content with the day and its promise.

They entered the stable and a skinny ten-year-old boy bounced down from the loft. Sir and Lady, he said, attempting a small bow, your luses are ready.

Balthus examined the mounts closely. They were both dark brown with tan stripes running down their flanks. He grabbed the nearest one’s halter. It tried to pull back but he held it firmly. He reached into his pouch, then placed a clenched hand near the luse’s mouth. Its nostrils flared as it picked up the scent of sweetroot and nuzzled his hand. Balthus opened his fist and the luse’s long tongue snaked out and wrapped around the treat. He rubbed the filed nub of the creature’s single horn while it crunched noisily. Balthus continued to accustom the luse to his touch by stroking its neck and flank while he made sure their packs were secure.

Adrianna stooped and checked her own mount’s front toes. If a luse was going to give them problems, it would begin at the split toe. Adrianna adjusted the saddle girth and nodded to Balthus. They look good.

The stable boy’s eyes gleamed with pride, but his gaze returned to admiring the hand-and-a-half sword strapped to Balthus’ back. May I see your sword, Sir? he asked.

Sword? Where is that sword anyway? Balthus said, turning around.

Why, it’s on your back, Sir.

And that’s where it will stay, boy! bellowed Balthus.

The boy jumped. But when I grow up, I want to be a warrior too! he stated.

What’s your name, boy? Dorio, isn’t it?

The boy grinned, pleased that Balthus remembered his name. Yes, Sir.

Adrianna folded her arms and watched, interested to see how Balthus handled the lad.

Listen, Dorio, growled Balthus. Do you know what a warrior is? A warrior is someone who has survived the fight, nothing more, nothing less. It’s better to avoid all of it if you can because one day your luck has to run out.

Dorio furrowed his brows in confusion. This new information didn’t make sense in his ten-year-old’s understanding of the world. He changed the subject and pointed to the mounts. Sir Warthgow said to give you the stable’s best luses. I chose these, he said with pride.

Best? I need the easiest! Traipsing all over the countryside is hard enough on my butt without having to mind a spirited luse.

Dorio’s face fell.

Adrianna cleared her throat.

Balthus glanced at her, then at the boy’s expression. He squatted and inspected his luse’s front toes. Good work on the toenails. He examined the inside of the luse’s small floppy ear and nodded. Yes, you did choose well. He turned to Dorio. Luses are just as important as swords in many battles, and I can see you do an excellent job caring for them. Balthus patted the animal’s flank. Perhaps, if you worked at it, someday you could be the King’s stableman. My thanks, Dorio. Balthus flipped the boy a copper.

The lad beamed as he deftly caught the coin.

They walked their luses out through the yard to the front gate and Adrianna smiled as they mounted. Perhaps the world just lost a warrior – but gained a stableman.

Balthus just harrumphed.

CHAPTER 3

It was past dusk when Dieya sensed the node. He glided through the forest, silent as the mist created by the falling rain. A small jewel on the side of his right temple pulsed bright red. Occasionally pausing like a creature catching a drifting scent, he would close his eyes and spread his arms wide. He moved silently forward, gradually becoming aware of the dwindling sounds of the night. As the sounds of the insects and nocturnal creatures faded toward silence, he knew he was near. The rain dripping from his black cloak fell soundlessly, as if it too were fearful. A break in the forest opened onto a small meadow – a meadow even the rain seemed to shun.

A frown creased his forehead as his intense blue eyes narrowed in concentration. He slowed his pace, spread his arms and stepped forward cautiously. He jerked suddenly like a blind man sensing a cliff before him. The node couldn’t be seen with the naked eye and would stay invisible until it gained power. Lowering his arms, he moved sideways. Several times he approached the meadow to gauge the node’s proportions. It was oval in shape and approximately fifty feet across. He grunted. It wasn’t as large or as strong as he had feared. In the daylight he knew it would look like a commonplace meadow, but all living creatures would instinctively avoid the area.

He stood in the darkness and considered his options. Then, with the assurance of a man who has just made a decision, he strode quickly away from the clearing. When the sounds of the night returned, he removed the gem from his temple and replaced it in his amulet. He glanced back toward the meadow one last time.

A dark node here on Ravar. There would be more.

He clenched his fists with foreboding.

Shaking off his anger, he fingered the jewels on his wrist amulet. A blue glow surrounded Dieya for a moment, then he vanished.

CHAPTER 4

Balthus and Adrianna eased their mounts down the sloping road that spilled from the highland evergreens to the valley below. Inhaling deeply, Balthus relished the gentle spring breeze that carried the mixed aroma of firs and newly blossoming heraldi flowers. Glad to be out of the snow, he wondered idly about the prospect of spending next winter in a warmer clime.

Balthus studied the road ahead, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that gleamed off the snow-covered peaks of the Ligour Teeth Mountains. The road was part of King Justin I’s effort to unify his realm. Carved from the side of the mountain, this section was wide enough to ride four abreast. Tall rocks rose on the right with a sudden drop-off on the left.

It’s good to be back on the road, said Adrianna.

Balthus nodded. You know why that is?

Yes, she answered. Staying in one place too long causes petty details to grow in importance. On the road, our focus is usually in the moment, where life actually happens.

Balthus screwed up his face. That’s much better than the fresh air and sunshine remark I was thinking of…

Adrianna chuckled. Fresh air and sunshine are honey on the bread of the moment.

Balthus rode in silence for a while then shook his head. If I ever again see that bard who was hanging around you back at the Keep, he’ll run headlong into a fist of bad luck.

Adrianna smiled and patted her luse’s neck as it sidestepped a rut. You mentioned luck when you spoke to the stable boy. Do you really think your luck will run out?

Balthus glanced at her with surprise. Mine? Goodness no. You might think so, with all the luck that’s come my way, from finding you to not being skewered by every bravo from here to the Outer Sea. But I think luck comes to those who expect it, and I always expect it. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the road ahead. And speaking of luck, I think the morning’s about to get interesting.

Adrianna stiffened in her saddle.

I count four, maybe five, said Balthus in a quiet voice. Been watching us for the last few minutes. They will probably make their move around the bend by the tall rocks.

How do you want to play it? asked Adrianna.

Well, let’s try to talk them out of it. He glanced at her and grinned. You know how I like to reason with people.

Adrianna smiled. Yes, and it’s amazing how persuasive you are when you reason with your sword.

I guess there are just a lot of folks out there needing some hard lessons in kindness toward their fellow man. Ah, here are our brigands now.

Four men in a ragtag assortment of armor and weapons blocked the road, swords drawn. A fifth man behind them held a leveled crossbow.

Hold and dismount or we will be forced to cut you down! cried the largest one in the front.

Balthus eyed their white-knuckled clenching and unclenching of weapons, the shifting from foot to foot and the licking of dry lips. He shook his head. Humph. Not brigands, merely bandits, he said in a low voice. Adrianna, see if there is one at our backs.

Adrianna quickly glanced behind, then shook her head.

Balthus scowled. Not even bandits then, just amateurs. He raised his voice. Look boys, we don’t have the time to give you a lesson in manners, so how about you step aside and let us pass? He reached up and scratched his ear.

Down! Now! shouted the leader. Or Gregor will put a bolt in your eye!

Good idea, said Balthus and brought his hand down sharply, throwing a spike pulled from the scabbard he wore down the back of his neck. The spike caught the crossbowman in the eye and, by reflex, he pulled the trigger. The bolt plowed into the buttocks of the bandit nearest the cliff. The punctured highwayman yelped and fell to the ground, almost slipping off the edge.

The spike had no sooner hit than Balthus and Adrianna leaped from their luses with swords ringing. Adrianna attacked the bandit furthest left. The other two came for Balthus.

One bandit charged Balthus, sword extended. Balthus drove the point of his opponent’s sword into the ground and stove in the bandit’s head with a backhand blow. The second man lunged and Balthus shifted slightly to avoid the thrust. He brought his sword down in a mighty arc that clove the bandit from collarbone to navel. He spun toward Adrianna and found her leaning on her sword, her adversary dead at her feet.

A few inches of steel up under the breastbone does the same job as opening a man from head to groin, you know, said Adrianna.

Where’s the fun in that? muttered Balthus as he glanced at his handiwork. Now for the wounded one. Balthus strolled to the groaning bandit who lay on his side, the crossbow bolt protruding from his left buttock.

Lad, that wound’s more embarrassing than painful. Tell me, what –

Adrianna stepped past Balthus, put her boot on the bandit and shoved him over the edge. The man’s screams echoed off the cliffs, then suddenly ceased.

Hey, I was having a conversation there, said Balthus.

No, you were just playing. And I won’t let you pull the wings off flies either, said Adrianna.

I never touch flies – disgusting things, he said, wiping the blood off his sword with the cloak of the cloven bandit. He looked up and smiled. As I was saying though, it’s a beautiful morning.

They remounted and continued down the road.

CHAPTER 5

I don’t understand, said Duke Lothogorn, peering into his cup. Baron Yorburg will not even discuss this absurdity. Dozens of candles and a blazing fireplace failed to dispel the pall of concern blanketing the well appointed throne room. He rubbed his generous paunch, hoping to ease the roiling acid. He gulped down more wine. Since the siege began, drinking had become his favorite hobby.

The Duchess, sitting in her throne next to him, engaged in her pastime. With her head bent forward her red hair almost obscured her work. He watched the needle flash as her stubby fingers placed another stitch in her petit point. After observing for a moment Lotho decided he liked his hobby better. A green-liveried servant stood close by with a chilled pitcher of wine – the house staff also knew the Duke’s fondness for his hobby.

Lotho scowled. He rejects our offer of mediation and refuses to see our emissaries. He just sits there in that large ugly tent and waits. What is he waiting for? His fingers curled into a fist. He even refused to honor my request to meet in single combat!

For which I am very glad, my dear, replied the Duchess without glancing up from her sewing.

Lotho pounded the arm of his chair. Why? Don’t you think I can cut Yorburg apart?

Of course you could, Dear, but nobility killing one another? She tsked. It’s just not done.

As if he’s not trying to do just that with his thousands of mercenaries!

Let’s allow the King to settle this silly thing, she said. All we have to do is wait until his regents arrive.

That’s assuming our messages got through… he mumbled.

Of course they got through, Dear. No one would stop a messenger to the King, now would they?

No, of course not, said Lotho. Times being what they were, he wondered, but he wouldn’t reveal that thought to the Duchess. He hoped at least his message to Balthus had gotten through.

He swirled the dregs of wine in his cup. You know, woman, since becoming Duke it has been nothing but one worry after the other. He sighed. Life was so untroubled before accepting the dukedom.

No, Dear, you still worried about everything from luse breeding to the Shallcross Tournament winner. Now you just worry about different things.

I did not, woman. Life was easy and carefree back then. He said it with conviction although he knew she was right. But Baron Yorburg attacking him? That was the one thing he never would have worried about.

CHAPTER 6

Balthus and Adrianna walked their luses to the stream and let them drink. They wouldn’t be out of the forest before nightfall and Balthus was looking for a good place to make camp. His first choice for a good place to camp was a lively inn, but on the road he liked to shelter well off the trail in an easily defensible position. Balthus’ time spent in service to the King left him always thinking of defense, no matter how safe an area seemed. That mindset had saved him several times.

Balthus squatted and lowered his water bag into the stream. He thought about the mess they could be riding into and sighed. I am still confused by Lotho’s letter. Glancing up at Adrianna, he repeated a line from Lotho’s message: Lothogorn Castle has been besieged by Baron of Yorburg with an army of three thousand mercenaries. He rose, hung the bag on his saddle, then mounted. Yorburg never had the coin to put three men together, let alone three thousand. First, he would have to pay a large amount to buy a backbone. He shook his head. And his pretext of attack, that hundred-year-old boundary dispute? Something’s wrong there.

Someone had to put him up to it, agreed Adrianna. She tightened a bedroll strap that had loosened. I hope Lotho’s weathering the siege well. He never had much of a standing guard, only a few hundred men and some peasant conscripts. He has always relied on the King and good rapport with his neighbors.

Don’t worry about Lotho’s defenses. He’s more distrustful than I am.

Adrianna raised an eyebrow. That’s hard to believe. She mounted her luse and patted its neck. What does he expect us to do?

Ride in and vanquish all his detractors, of course. Balthus grinned and flexed his large biceps. His smile faded and he shrugged. I don’t know. We’ll think of something.

And besides, what could be more fun? mimicked Adrianna in a lowered, blustery voice.

Balthus grinned and spurred his luse forward.

They