The Northern Frontier of Rhakhaan, at the edge of the Zor Wastes Journal of Kalen Avanir
TE 6047, Orhan 5, day 15, late afternoon
Along the old Steppe Highway
Near the Northern Frontier
After a fine lunch of stew, cheese and warm, delicious bread at the ‘Bluebird Perch’ in the village of Echolshyre, we mounted up and headed north along the old Steppe Highway the last few miles to the ancient boundary of Rhakhaan.
Trees are routinely kept cleared back from either side of the wide paved road to deter ambush by thieves, but as we were nearing the edge of the realm and traffic was almost nonexistent, the road shoulders had become overgrown.
We saw the twin statues above the treetops anyway, and while still perhaps a furlong away.
I had read that the ‘Warders of the Crossing,’ which watch over the border between Rhakhaan and Zor, were an impressive sight, but I was not prepared for the reality of these twin monuments. The highway is a generous thirty feet wide... and these were twice that in height — ten times my size at least. They loomed over us: twin stone Gryphons sitting like monstrous lions on their haunches, but with their eagle wings folded back and beaked mouth open. I read that in the old days sentries stood watch inside the statues and lit fires behind the eyes. Now those eyes were pits of darkness. At that moment I felt a chill run down my spine, and not from the cold.
Chapter Two: The Messenger
“Did you feel it too?” Jad whispered, leaning close.
Kalen felt his cousin’s warm breath on his ear. “Yes, something. I don’t know what, but it’s… that way.” Kalen pointed north… through the Warders.
“We swore to your father that we wouldn’t pass beyond the boundary into the Wastes.”
“Well… if we don’t actually go between the Warders, the boundary is rather unclear.” Kalen was already sliding off the saddle. “Come on, just a little ways through the woods here. It looks like there’s a steep drop-off just north, maybe we can get a view.”
In addition to the rough terrain, there were many scrub pines and other conifers to help conceal them. Once off the road, the boys tied their mounts to a branch, then slipped through the underbrush and broken rocks, moving as silently as possible. Kalen kept the Warders just in sight over his left shoulder. His sense of unease grew as they crept forward, yet he also felt drawn by curiosity.
There was indeed a steep rocky decline a few paces ahead, giving them an overlook of the land to the north.
It was a grim sight. Some stunted trees and shrubs clung the hillside directly below them, but beyond stretched a vast barren plain. Only outcroppings of windswept red striated stone interrupted the expanse of brown, lifeless plain extending north as far as they could see. The Steppe Highway wove down in a gentle ‘S’ curve, but vanished under the shifting sand perhaps a mile away.
But it was something on the hillside just perhaps a hundred feet below that soon drew Jad and Kalen’s attention: on a shelf of rock off the road, partially concealed beneath a gnarled pine, were four men and a horse. One of them was wrapped in a hooded cloak the color of the dead earth, and held the horse’s reins. The other three seemed to be kneeling or crouching before the horseman, and they were clad in tattered, dirty-looking rags. Kalen could hear the standing man speaking in a rough voice, but couldn’t make out the words. The three in front of him groveled in unison and began to slink away – then there was a disturbance in a tree near the boys, and a large owl swept down towards the horseman. He looked up, raised his arm, and the owl landed on his gauntleted forearm.
“A trained owl!” Jad whispered.
“Shh!” Kalen clamped a hand hard on his cousins’ shoulder.
But the heads of both bird and man turned in unison, fixing their gaze on the boys’ location. For a moment their attention was locked and they both stood still, as if listening. Then all at once the man sent the owl airborne and barked a command – something in a rough language that Kalen did not understand. The three crouching men wheeled about and began to climb the slope towards Kalen and Jad, scrambling up the hill on hands and feet.
“By the Gods…” Jad mumbled.
“Let’s get out of here!” Kalen backed away from the edge, pulling at his cousin. They staggered to their feet and ran. There was no point in trying to hide now: they had obviously been spotted. The underbrush, which had served as a screen before, was a hindrance now. Thorny branches tore at their clothes. Pine needles stabbed at their outthrust hands and scratched their faces. In a sudden panic Kalen thought they had run right past their horses in the deepening twilight, but then Jad veered to the right and a moment later the came upon their waiting mounts. With trembling, sweating hands Kalen untied the reins and leapt into the saddle.
Jad was already astride Barron, watching to make sure his cousin was ready to go. “Should we head for the road?”
“I guess it’s safer than here in the wilds; we can go much faster, and there is only the one rider among them.”
“As far as we know…” Jad raised his eyebrows, but urged his horse towards the highway.
Kalen kept looking over his shoulder, expecting to see strange crawling men behind every tree, but there was no more sign of pursuit They made it to the road without incident, and he exhaled in relief as the horses’ hooves clattered on the stone pavement, but it was a short-lived comfort.
“Kalen. There’s something moving back at the Warders.” Jad was twisted halfway around in the saddle, straining even his Elven vision to make out the shapes in the shadow of the stone towers.
“Are they moving closer?” Kalen’s voice was tight. He urged his horse to a trot and Jad did the same. He considered stringing his bow but decided their best chance was to simply outrun their pursuers.
“No… but I think they are watching us. Just the three on foot. I don’t see the rider.”
Cloudy dusk turned to overcast night. They saw no further sign of the lurkers or the horseman, though Kalen expected the hooded rider to burst out of the trees and attack them at any moment.
It was into the night quintar by the time they arrived back at Echolshyre, and they had to convince a wary gatekeeper to let them in. Fortunately, however, the Bluebird Perch had not closed up for the night. Kalen left Jad to lead the horses to the stable while he found the innkeeper and arranged for a room.
After the afternoon’s events – not to mention spending the last several nights camping outdoors -- Kalen was looking forward to sleeping in a real bed, in a room with a door that locked. He got their key and went out to the common room to wait for his cousin. There were still a few lingering patrons, all of them gathered around the dying fire at the hearth and talking quietly together. Kalen sat at the far end of the bar and asked for an ale to settle his nerves.
Apparently he needed it, for when he felt a hand clap on his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his seat.
“The stableboy did not look very pleased at having to take in two sweating horses at this late hour!” Jad said with a laugh and straddled the stool next to his cousin.
“By the gods, Jad, you startled me!” Kalen said in a low voice and glared, feeling foolish for being so nervous.
“Sorry.” Jad looked embarrassed. “I understand; I still feel like we’re being… watched… too.” He gestured to the barkeep for an ale.
“We don’t get many of the high born out here near the frontier,” The young man behind the bar set Jad’s ale before him with a nod, “And rarely are we favored by visitors of the old race. Where are you gentlemen from? Haalkitaine, or perhaps Lethys down south?”
Kalen felt his usual disinclination to chat with strangers. He also wondered if the barkeep was mocking them, though he detected only a respectful tone when the man referred to them as being of the ‘old race.’ It was only then that he looked more carefully at this inquisitive ale pourer. He was tall and slender, with black hair and fair skin – not the typical Shay homesteader. And his ears even looked like they were slightly pointed, not unlike Kalen’s own, though to a lesser degree.
Jad, contrary to his cousin, was always ready to make small talk. “No, we are from Leathes, right here in Prevan.”
“Ah, yes, I can tell now from your local accent.” The man nodded. “I’m called Saen, by the way. As you might have noticed, I’m not from around here myself, but that’s a long story.”
“Nice to meet you.” Kalen nodded. For some reason he felt he could trust this bartender, at least to a point. “I am Kalen and this is my cousin Jad.”
Saen furrowed his brows, and asked in a lower voice, “Forgive me, and if this is none of my business, feel free to say so, but are you relations of the Duke?”
Kalen’s wide eyes apparently told the bartender all he wanted to know, for the man nodded his head slightly. Then Saen added, still in a low voice, “I figured as much, not just by your clothes. Everyone knows the Duke has an Elven wife. I’d say you’re wise to be spending your nights indoors in these parts, sirs; the Frontier’s not safe since the Pretender’s armies have been moving. And herders around here have been complaining about wolves from the Waste attacking their flocks, not to mention the talk about stranger things going on.”
“Strange… as in…?” Jad prodded, at the same time sliding his already-empty mug forward.
The barkeep brought them both another round. “Little things mostly. Folks who live around here say that they’ve seen some odd-looking and odder-acting men on the highway the last few months, eerie lights up north, just strange feelings. Nothing you can really put a finger on, you know? Some say the Pretender’s called up undead from Zor to haunt the border.”
“There’s no such thing as undead!” Kalen rolled his eyes.
“If you say so, my Lord.” Saen shrugged and half-smiled
This time Kalen though the bartender was mocking him.
Then Jad blurted out “Anything about owls?”
It was Saen’s turn to betray himself with a shocked expression. He turned away and muttered; “I think it would be wise for you to return to Leathes as soon as possible, noble sirs. The Northern Frontier is dangerous.”
Jad pressed his question. “What do you know about the owls?”
“The owls are spies. I can’t tell you any more! When you go to your room, lock the door and shutter the window!” Then Saen hurried into the kitchen.
“Well!” Jad said with a sigh, then shrugged and took a large swig from his mug.
“You certainly scared him off.” Kalen mumbled over his ale.
Kalen was secretly relieved to discover that their room was on the third floor of the inn, and he felt even better after he’d bolted the door and Jad had closed the heavy shutters outside the window. The fire in the hearth was still burning bright, and Jad started a kettle warming so they could at least have some hot water to wash with.
Kalen started unpacking their bags. “If we stay another day, we could get our clothes properly laundered.” He muttered, unrolling his less-worn undershirt.
“If you mean by that ‘beaten and stretched and twisted to death,’ then I suppose you are right. But I would prefer to wait until we get back home and have our trusted laundress do the washing.” Jad said, flopping on the large bed. “Ohhh, feather mattress!” He exclaimed approvingly.
“I’ve never known a man to be so concerned about the care of his clothing!” Kalen shook his head. “When these wear out we will buy new; it is not as if we are poor peasants!” He sat on the bed near his cousin and began to tug off his boots.
“I just don’t like my favorite tunic beaten on a rock.” Jad said with a pout. “I must tell you, though, that I am glad to be sleeping in a bed, my Lord. A real bath would be welcome as well.”
“You are rather spoiled!” Kalen laughed. “Most common people probably bathe only once a month, you know!”
“As my delicate Elven nose is quite aware, thank you very much! Mortals stink! I am so glad that you did not inherit that unpleasant trait.”
Kalen paused in his boot-tugging and looked over his shoulder at his cousin. “And what unpleasant mortal traits did I inherit, squire?” He asked coolly.
Jad reddened. “Kalen you know I didn’t mean it that way! I was just saying-- ” He trailed off when he saw the grin spread across Kalen’s face.
“Ha! Had you!” Kalen poked his cousin in the chest.
“Yes you did.” Jad got up and checked on the kettle. “I’m sorry my Lord, I was disrespectful.” He mumbled.
“I was just teasing you, Jad, I know you didn’t mean anything by that. Don’t be upset.” Now Kalen was feeling guilty that he’d hurt his best friend’s feelings.
He was taken completely by surprise when Jad spun around and leapt on top of him, pinning him on the bed. “Got you back! Ha-ha!” The Elven youth giggled and rolled over on his back. “I swear I can get you every time! It’s too easy!”
“You know me too well.” Kalen said softly, and turning away, his lips curling into a little smile.
As the boys slept safe and secure in the inn, curled together for warmth in their feather-down bed, the Rider whom they had encountered that day waited on a hill just outside Echolshyre. He leaned against an old oak, shadowed against even the dim light of Sickle Orhan through the tattering clouds. The tree’s dead leaves raked against each other in the chill wind, but there was no other sound, until his owl called a warning.
“Your familiar remains vigilant at least, Hegon.” A lilting voice spoke from nearby.
Hegon’s sword was already in his hand. “I heard you a furlong away, priest.”
“I doubt it.” The soft, almost musical voice spoke out of thin air. “You Messengers are not recruited for your acute senses. Though I have heard that some birds can see through invisibility. Certainly bats can.” There was a wavering of the space in front of Hegon, and an Elf in grey robs appeared as he pulled a heavy hood back upon his shoulders. “Why have you called me to this backwater?”
“I was told to call when I noticed something unusual. I felt two strange presences at the edge of the Master’s domain today. They retreated to that town. They wore fine clothes, possibly of the nobility”
The Elf closed his eyes. “Ah, yes… I sense them.” Elven blood, and some Essænce power. Easily picked out from the rabble of this land. Their presence here is worthy of note. Surprising that we have not given these two more attention before. “You have done well, Hegon.”
The Messenger of Ulkaya bowed his head for a moment. “I serve our Master Osaran, lord of Zor.”
“As do we all.” Priest Arnak Sebis gave a cursory wave in response, then turned once again toward the village, his face wearing an expression of… hunger?
And there is another of interest as well. I believe he might be… yesss, a Loremaster. Inexperienced… vulnerable. Sebis thought, typing the mind of unsuspecting Saen.
“What will you do, priest?”
Sebis’ head snapped around and he raised an eyebrow. “That is no concern of yours. Your duty is done here.”
The Messenger stepped out of the shadow then, revealing himself to be a man, tall and powerfully built, possibly of Laan heritage. He was not unhandsome, but his face was full of hard planes. “I was hoping for a reward… the least valuable of these. The young one.”
“Ah.” Sebis nodded, a smile spreading his thin lips. “The younger one… the Linær Elf?’
Hegon nodded and leered back, showing his large white teeth.
“You overstep your rank.” The Priest spat, his voice suddenly full of contempt as his smile vanished. “They are more than you imagine, and your presumption earns you only punishment!” Sebis raised a hand, palm towards the messenger. “Krayka!” he said in a low but resonant voice, and a reddish glow illuminated his long fingers.
Hegon doubled over with a low moan as the Word of Pain set his nerves on fire.
“Fool.” Muttered Sebis. “When you have recovered your wits and hopefully learned some humility, return to your patrols in the Waste. I will take over the surveillance of these Elves.” He pulled his hood over his head and vanished, leaving Hegon writhing on the cold hard ground.
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