A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 06

This statement confounded the Duke, and Rowan and Boyle were also equally caught by surprise.

"Can't my daughter just stay here in safety until the necessary items are gathered and you then return back here?" The Duke asked in whiny tone as he wrung his hands together in misery.

'No, quite out of the question entirely. There are certain acts and rituals that must be performed along the way and her presence is absolutely vital and necessary at each step, else failure would surely result. Nor could one of your officers or trusted Lords take Rowan's sword in his place. As he alone forged that infernal weapon, he alone commands it to serve our will. It would never willingly accept any other hands, and surely great evil and misfortune would befall anyone else that tried to bend this weapon to their own will."

At length convinced, the Duke's attitude toward the trio finally became one of cheerful partnership, and over dinner he then tried to convince the one final disobedient holdout to obey his commands. His surly and rather willful daughter, who much as the wise Foole had predicted, was lately of a rather vengeful and wicked temperament since her disfigurement. The marks were indeed quite terrible to behold; two angry red fang marks from the near-miss of its attempted bite were unmistakable across the right side of her face. One tear crossing her forehead from above her right brow, narrowly missing the eye itself, and across her nose, and the other crossing the center of her cheek to her jaw. Like angry red scars they disfigured her, in both body and spirit.

"No and Hell No!" She replied. Repeated often, loudly and rather convincingly. Soon the lads feared that the willful Lady would once again bend her father's will to suit her own mind, as usual, but fortunately there was a most eventful interruption. Earlier in the day, to better gain an understanding of the necessity of this quest to restore his daughter, he had summoned a local Moon-Woman, a seeress who was said to be particular skilled at prophecy and foreseeing the will of the Weaver's, and their weaves of the future.

Moon-Women, formally called Galdorfǽmne, were as rare as even the most minor of Wizards and seldom stayed for long in any one place. Like the path of the moon itself across the sky, they tended to travel the world visiting large cities and small villages alike, offering their visions and insights for silver. Even the Lore-Masters do not know from what source their powers originate, coming from either the Gods or directly from the Weaver's themselves, but it was a certainty that they would always speak the truth and that their advice should never be willfully disregarded or their prophecies deliberately thwarted, err disaster would most certainly occur.

This particular Moon-Woman, a rather elderly crone with silvery white hair, bushy eyebrows, stooped shoulders and a limp that required a firm walking stick, didn't seem particular impressed by anyone present as well. She gave the Foole an especially dubious look and scrunched up her face a few times and grumbled before seating herself, quite without the Duke's permission in a large oversized chair in the corner, and quite shut her eyes entirely, as if she was overdue for a nap.

"Honored Galdorfǽmne, I am glad that you could attend us this evening to offer your advice for a rather important undertaking."

"Your Grace, I hear you but I do not mark you or your words, so please remain silent, as I have much to tell your daughter but I have little enthusiasm for the task. I would also have the Foole's tongue remain still as well. He is léaslic... a pain to my eyes."

"What did that word mean?" Boyle quietly whispered to Oddtus, but the Foole kicked his shin hard to bid the lad to remain silent.

"Vainglorious, arrogant and conceited young woman," the Moon-Woman sharply barked, with her eyes still closed but twitching, seeing apparently something of a vision within her mind as she spoke, "you will have but one chance alone to restore your beauty, your health and your soul... and it lies on a path of danger at every step. You will know pain, hunger, despair and fear... and that is if you are fortunate. Not only does this quest serve your supercilious needs but it also concerns the very survival of your land. If you do not learn to love and honor this land then you and your quest will fail. If you do not learn to love and honor your companions and fellow lands-men and women, then your quest will fail. If you continue to have no room in your heart for anyone but yourself, then your quest will fail. Not only will your quest fail, but your family will die, your companions will die, your lands-folk will die, the land itself will die... and if that is not quite enough misery for you, then you yourself will either certainly die as well, or you will suffer a fate so dreadful that death itself would be welcomed. If you can learn your lessons, and with your Champion at your side, you will find healing, love and even happiness, and you and your land will prosper. Do mark me girl?"

"I do, Honored Galdorfǽmne, I understand." She quietly replied, and the Moon-Woman snorted in laughter and arose from the chair to leave.

"No, you most certainly do not, young Lady... but someday before this year and age ends you will, much to your utter despair and deepest misery, and then you will but have one last final chance to set yourself right. May you do so!"

The Moon-Woman then arose from her chair and after giving the young lads an appraising glance, she glared daggers at the astonished Foole and left the room at once without another word, or even taking the proffered sack of gold from the Duke's outstretched hand.

Boyle never did get an answer to his question.

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Prophecy or not, the Lady was still not quite committed to undertake the quest, and she loudly cried, bellowed and wheedled her father for a respite for much of the evening. Surprisingly, frightened to his core by the Moon-Woman's words, his mind was quite resolved... at least about this one particular matter. Still, eventually with the prospect of a complete cure, she agreed to go and even obey an officer of the guard that was now assigned to be her bodyguard. Along with the Foole and the young lads, he and a handful of guardsmen would accompany and protect her on the trip.

Her officer, a rather condescending looking Lieutenant named Rothale, then in turn agreed to follow the Lore-Master's guidance, except in military matters. Rowan didn't much like the smug look on the fellows face and the obvious distain he held for this mission, but he hoped that he and the officer wouldn't need to cross swords in a disagreement... the tall dark-haired soldier looked to be highly proficient with his sword.

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For the next few days, the Foole and the Duke spent much of their time coordinating their plans for the journey. Ideally, everyone had hoped to make the entire voyage to Corælyn quickly by sea, but instead there were more increasingly unfortunate and disturbing fresh news from the sea captains that sailed Great Western Sea. Broadmore and Drakland were indeed quite at war with each other once again, and the Drakland navy had a tight naval embargo across the relatively narrow channel strait that separated their shores. No ship from anywhere was getting through, the sea captains reported. As a very weak sea power, the Duke of Tellismere had very little resources and even fewer actual naval warships. Most of his ships weren't even especially suited for the unpredictable waters of the Great Western Sea, as they normally trafficked the much gentler and calmer waters of Crystal Lake. To make things worse still, the rumors of increased pirate activity in the area were quite accurate as well, and no sea captain was willing to risk his ship out of port for any amount of gold that the Duke was willing to offer.

As the passage could not be forced by sea, the next safest measure was to return across Crystal Lake back to Swanford, and take the Emerald River east, upriver to either Everdun or somewhere in the eastern portion of the Duchy, past the northern Brittle Mountains where the odds of running into war related problems there or along on the northeastern border of Broadmore was thought to be unlikely. Unfortunately, even with a quick pace, such a river and then overland journey was likely to take at least a month and probably much more. For hours the Duke and the Foole looked over maps of possible routes and debated the best proper route to take. Each of the routes had obvious disadvantages.

No one was much happy about any of the proposed routes, but the Duke and his daughter were now eager for the journey to begin and everyone agreed that that waiting months or even years for the naval situation to improve was unthinkable. It was decided with haste that the party would now leave as soon as an eastbound ship from the city could be found to take them back to Haldyne at the mouth of the Emerald River, and then up the road once again to Swanford, where an east-bound trading boat could be easily hired to take them as far east as was safe and prudent.

If the Duke considered the reports of danger to the northern shore of the river and reports of incursions from the creatures that lived in those mountains near the river, he made no mention of his. Oddtus was oddly unconcerned as well. The alternative, a long slow overland trip along the coastal roads, even with horse and a carriage, was unthinkably dangerous and far slower than sailing the Emerald River east, with all of its possible dangers.

The Lieutenant would be taking along a trusted sergeant and they would also have a trio of additional guardsmen as well. This provided adequate security, along with the two lads, for a group that wanted to be able to travel swiftly on horseback. They would be too big or fast for most bandit groups to bother, but small enough to be easy to provision and able to move at a maximum pace. Lieutenant Rothale was given a rather substantial and heavy purse, for the Lady's needs and requirements, and Rowan didn't quite like the way the wiry black-haired and dark-eyed officer smiled when he attached it next to his own purse on his war-belt. The Lady Ayleth was given a smaller purse for her more mundane expenses and her own amusement was equally disturbing. Rowan hoped that the Foole had received some additional monies of his own, or else at some point they might have to depend upon his and Boyle's purses for expenses as well.

Boyle, ever able to make friends (and pocket money) wherever he went, found himself in a late night dice game in the stables where he cheerfully won the equivalent of several months pay from the squires, castle servants and stable boys. Unable to believe the rumors of his luck, he was challenged to another dice game the following night in the castle barracks and he won yet more silver from the guardsmen. To show that there were no hard feelings, the husky cheerful lad bought a small barrel of good wine for the soldiers to drink and he was toasted as being a most likeable fellow by the poorer, but happy guardsmen.

Not quite trusting his own erratic luck, Rowan stayed close to the castle and used his time while waiting to check his gear and upgrade some of his travel clothing. A friendly quartermaster soon saw that the lad had some much better grade traveling garments and tack for his horse of a kind more suited for knights and young lords. While Rowan wasn't actually a knight, a good many folk in the castle were now treating him as such and he wasn't entirely sure why. He guessed that the story of his demonstration of his sword to the Duke had filtered through the gossip grapevine, or else his defeat of the Daemon was now more commonly known.

Before their departure, Boyle, ever the expert on horses, determined that their current mounts were quite decidedly inferior to many of the ones in the Duke's personal stable, so he selected the three finest horses available and prepared them so that they could be taken on board the ship with them for the voyage to Haldyne. Taking a look at his assigned horse, Reedfah, named for his burnished red coat and thereafter commonly called just Red, the lad was astonished to find that they quickly became friends and Rowan resolved to visit the animal every day while it was down below in the cargo hold, and to even learn a bit more from Boyle about how to tend to its needs.

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Finally on the morning of the last day of month, the Hāligdæg-tu, or the Second Day of the Holiday and Feast Day of the GodYfelde Soð, the day before the start of the first autumn month of Cennan, the God of Commerce, Crafts & Trade and the working of Order, their small trading ship sailed out of Tellismere harbor east, up the short Klure River to its entrance into Crystal Lake. With cliff faces on both sides of the river, Rowan didn't see much that he thought would hold his attention so he was about to head down to the hold to visit his horse Red when Oddtus put a hand to his shoulder and bade him to wait for yet awhile longer.

His patience was rewarded. Near the mouth of the river a great stone bridge crossed over some relatively low bluffs of stone that rose from out of the river. The bridge was old and not quite as magnificent as the destroyed one across the Bekingham River had been, but as the bridge past over the sails of the ship he could tell that the workmanship was still quite excellent.

"Built by the Dweorg," Oddtus said quietly, "just after the end of the Dragon War, in gratitude to the many men that fought and died here during the war and in honor of the first Duke of Tellismere, who built his first stone keep near here and began to settle this wild land. Ever had it before been a stronghold for the dragons and their kin and the wresting of it from them had stained more fields and hills with blood than you could ever possibly imagine. Even still, there are some old ruins from the days before and during the war. Some forgotten with time, others still reminders of a most terrible past."

"I've heard that one of the islands in the center of Crystal Lake is dotted with old ruins and that still no one ever lands upon its shores." Rowan mused.

"Quite so. Beran Island, or Bear Island as it's called now, as well as its western companion Osweleg, or Oswyn's Island, both have some barrows, monuments and ruins from past ages, but the villages on both are quite safe and secure in these days. The other, Hanna Island, the 'forbidden' island is the smaller of those three central islands and the one furthest south. It has many ruins, great and small, and they say it is still haunted to this day. Perhaps rightfully so. No one lives on that island even now and perhaps no one ever will, and the other island fisherman will not drop their nets close to its shores either. Terrible things were done there in the old days... awful things that the world and most Lore-Masters thought should remain safely forgotten. But some do still tell their students in whispers of things that should be never forgotten, lest they someday ever become likely to reoccur. Some of the infamous and unspeakable deeds of the Infernals were done there, it is said. So I know... and remember, but I shall not speak of those horrors to you or to anyone, save to my own sworn apprentice someday... and may that day be not at all soon!"

"What of the waterfalls at the north of the lake that abide and conduct all of the mountain rains and snows into the lake?" Boyle asked.

"What of them? They flow over the cliffs that reach over the waters of the lake like a rainbow of water, pure and crystal clear. This is why the lake is so named, since near the falls the water is so pure and without sediment that one can see far down to the very lake bottom in many places. The fishing there is excellent, as I'm sure that you have heard. It is said that much of this water originates from a plateau deep inside the mountains where the water is forced out from the depths of the earth. I have never seen that place, as the journey to reach that forbidden plateau would be an adventure of a lifetime all on its own. There would be countless dangers... too many for my own personal taste, and I'm not yet weary enough with life to undertake that quest! By early tomorrow we should pass to the south of that accursed and forbidden island and I am of no mind to catch any remote glimpse of it, so I shall keep to my rest below and rejoin you once we sail safely into port."

Indeed, early the next day when they sailed to just within sight of that cursed forbidden island, the Lore-Master remained below decks to rest in their small cabin until the notorious island was long gone, lost far behind them in the ship's wake beyond the western horizon.

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Late that afternoon their ship arrived safely at the docks of Haldyne and the party and their mounts were glad to be once again on firm land ashore. With a strong late summer wind pushing them across the lake, they had made the voyage in two days instead of the nearly two weeks it had taken them earlier on horseback with the caravans. Rowan and Boyle managed to get their horses unloaded first and they then took their new mounts outside of the town gates for a brief bit of exercise before the sunset warning for the closing of the gates was sounded. The lads remained well within sight of the gates and they had given the gate guards a few farthings to sound the warning properly, and to not shut the gate on them prematurely, leaving them locked outside of the town walls for the night.

Rowan was certain that he heard Lady Ayleth mutter with derision, 'Boys!' as they rode off, away from the ship. The Lady had kept her distance during the entire voyage and had in fact been hardly seen at all by anyone the entire time. She had mostly stayed in her cabin below deck, even taking her meals there, but frankly no one at all had missed her presence. Her fury about being forced into this journey had simmered down to mere incandescent rage, and no one had received a civil word from her since her father the Duke had ordered his guards to forcibly carry her kicking and screaming onto the ship. The lads quietly agreed to keep their distance from her just on normal principle; it was going to be a long trip and she was going to be certain to wear hard upon their nerves, so it was better to enjoy the relative peace and quiet while they still could.

Despite being kept below deck for three days, the mounts were eager for their exercise, and they raced each other in a circle at near full speed until Boyle slowed their pace down. Since Rowan had lived on horseback for the earlier two week journey, the lessons he had learned about riding nearly at once returned. Now he was now getting much better about feeling intuitively how his mount was going react and move and soon, and almost right from the start, he started to feel a rapport with Red that he had never shared with his old unnamed scout horse from the caravan journey. Red was smarter apparently, and eager to work together with his new master and rider in cooperation. Rowan hoped that he himself would be smart enough to learn along with the animal before the next moment of crisis occurred, when horse and rider needed to act together as one.

Boyle's horse Flash, was a bit larger and sturdier for the slightly stout lad's frame but still nearly as fast as Rowan's horse Reed. Flash had a propensity to show-off and perhaps take a more creative path than its rider would have preferred. Both horse and rider amused themselves far too easily, but they too soon bonded during the short half-day's ride up to Swanford. While in the City of Tellismere, Boyle had taken his old spear to have a new longer shaft made for it. Oddtus had told the lad that the finely engraved and elaborately cut-out and shaped steel spearhead was an old one, perhaps even an antique from the days of the Dragon Wars, but still it was sturdy and sound, ready now for another age of use as the cheerful lad now practiced cavalry charges with his improved lance upon defenseless bushes and shrubs outside of the town. Rowan gave his sword a few similar practice swings, but he was mostly now just in the mood for a quiet ride until the night horn sounded.