Chapter 5
November 12th
The next day, Zechariah was awoken by the bustling of the visitors in Oloric's Rest. They politely ignored Zechariah as he lay by the cold embers of the fire receiving their breakfast of boiled oats well seasoned with pepper, vegetables and eggs. They talked among themselves happily, speaking with quite some excitement over Fjords performance, which they seemed to revere almost on par with Aleen's blessings. It was extremely rare to actually have the offering manifest the Goddess's avatar. Zechariah turned down Delden's offer for breakfast, stating that he did not feel like eating. He had slept uneasy last night, curled up by the fire, staring into it's light, and now began stretching the tightness out of his muscles. He should get back to the farm...and gather up his wares if there was anything left. And figure out what he planned to do...
He offered Delden payment for letting him stay by the fire, but Delden refused kindly patting Zechariah on the shoulder saying, "What kind of tavern keeper would I be if I didn't help out my friends every now and then?" 'Friends' Zechariah thought. He supposed that Delden was as close to a friend as he had in Hyran. Probably the only person who didn't shy away from him. Delden informed him that Arrongar had stabled the mule and cart there last night, and so after thanking him, Zechariah made his way to prepare the mule, and found him eating hay quietly with the other beasts of burden. Inspecting his wares, he found them neatly packed away, though he only had a handful of pieces left. It seemed that in his absence, Amir had done well in selling his wares. He hitched up the mule and climbed up into the front of the cart, giving a sharp click of his tongue and gentle snap of the reigns and the dutiful mule casually began pulling the cart home, even without instruction.
Zechariah let the reigns fall loose, trusting the mule to take him true, and he pulled out his pipe sitting back, and watched the sun continue it's journey up the peak. By the gods, the light looked wonderful. He rubbed at his hand, pondering still the meaning and weight of his conversation last night and, before he realized it, the mule was pulling his cart towards the Feldman stables. As Zechariah grabbed up the reigns, he noticed that there was another wagon by the side of the house. Wasn't that the Huntson's wagon? Ah, Caldna and her family must be here.
After tending to the mule, Zechariah made his way into the house, and indeed found Caldna and her father speaking with Arrongar and Amir. Upon seeing him enter, Calnda's face lit up and she jump up and ran to Zechariah giving him a massive hug. Zechariah stood awkwardly blushing by the expression, and Amir smiled laughing at his discomfort.
"Zechariah! Thank you so much for these beautiful rings!" Caldna exclaimed. "They're unbelievably gorgeous! Amir said that you made them?"
"Um, yes." Zechariah said as Caldna released him.
"How? How did you make these? And where did you get the rubies? They're dazzling!" Caldna asked full of excitement and wonder.
"I purchased them from King Aurvan's treasurer, and I carved the rings, fire treating the wood to ensure it wouldn't break easily. I'm sorry they're just made of wood but I don't have the tools for metallurgy." Zechariah apologized.
"Are you joking?" Caldna exclaimed, "I don't need a common ring made of gold. Sure it might be worth more, but this is beautiful. Thank you." She said gazing upon he ring.
"I'm glad you like it." Zechariah said the awkwardness settling in his stomach again.
"They really are a wonder Zech." Amir stated from the table, playing with his own ring. "And they fit perfectly. How did you manage that?"
Zechariah shrugged saying, "I don't know. I mean, I know your finger size, you've given me enough black eyes as a kid for me to get a pretty good sense of how fat your fingers are."
Amir just laughed, but Caldna said, "And me?"
"Well," Zechariah said uncomfortably, "When you took my hand in yours a few Ports back, I got a pretty good sense of your ring size."
"What?" Caldna exclaimed. "Just from me putting my hand on yours?"
"Sure." Zechariah shrugged beginning to fidget, glancing towards the stairwell leading to his room. He just wanted to escape.
"Well," Caldna said, "you really are full of surprises." Hugging him once more she returned to the table.
"Good luck with the wedding plans." Zechariah said as he made his way to his room, hearing the conversation resume in the room below. He sat heavily at his desk, feeling some warmth inside despite the awkwardness. He enjoyed making people happy...it was just such a rare occurrence. The warmth quickly faded however, as he remembered the conversation with his father last night. He traced the runes he had carved upon his desk. He took of his draw belt and pulled out a copper drop and began rolling it around the carvings. These had been in his hand? It was just a bunch of shapes. Some swirls here, some triangular shapes there. It was pretty, a bit mysterious, but he would have never guessed that shadows had carved them into his skin. But why would Arrongar lie about that? No, it had to be the truth but...what did it mean? What was the significance of those runes?
Suddenly, that was it. That was the question he needed answered. He had been wondering what he should do, where he should go, who he should talk to...but finally, he knew what lay before him. He needed to find someone who would be able to tell him what these runes meant. However, he should also be careful who he asked. Considering where they seemingly came from, it didn't feel like something that he should casually be talking to anyone about. Especially someone who knew about these things. If he truly was demon possessed, he would need to be very careful with this information. But where should he go? Who should he talk to? The last organization of magi vanished before he was even born. He had heard stories of a group of 'hunters' who were trying to find out what happened to the magi, but they had been officially disbanded by King Malik over a Revolution ago. And who was to say that they could be trusted...but where else was he meant to go? Most Kings had a court wizard of some kind, but getting access to one of them was going to be extremely hard through legal means, and illegal means was entirely out of the question. Though...perhaps...
"Where are you going in such a rush?" Arrongar called as Zechariah came barrelling down the stairs again.
Zechariah paused...suddenly going cold. Should he answer? He suddenly didn't know where he stood with his father. Did he deserve Zechariah's obedience and compliance? He was still his father but, he had lied to him his whole life. Turning around slowly, Zechariah said, "I'm going into town."
It looked like Arrongar was going to protest, but he paused mouth open to say something, but instead said, "Be careful."
Amir looked from Arrongar to Zechariah confused by the stiffness in the exchange, seeing something else was afoot but unable to place his finger on it. Before he could say anything or ask any questions, Zechariah was out of the door. Saddling up a horse, he galloped off back into town, back to Orolic's Rest.
Upon arriving he found the tavern alive with action. The visitors from Perdale were hitching up their own mules and horses, merchants were shouting at their children to get them to aid in loading up their wares. There was already a steady train of carts heading out of Hyran. Even with their own tents, how had so many people managed to stay in Hyran?
Dashing inside the tavern, Zechariah found Delden and grabbed his shoulder demanding his attention. "Where's Fjord Silverkin?"
"Pardon?" Delden said bit perturbed by the brusqueness of Zechariah's actions. "I thought you went home."
"I did." Zechariah explained, "But now I'm back. I need to find Fjord."
"What for?" Delden asked a little bewildered.
"Delden!" Zechariah exclaimed, "Please, where is Fjord?"
"I'm afraid that you are out of luck Zechariah. He left last night. Claimed that he didn't need to keep a room all to himself from the 'good people of Perdale' and then, before I knew it, he had purchased a horse from a merchant, hitched up his cart and was off in the middle of the night."
"He's gone?" Zechariah despaired. "Where? Where was he going?"
"To Perdale obviously. It's the only town near here." Delden said.
"Yes yes. Where from there?" Zechariah said impatiently.
"I don't know. Fjord didn't divulge that information and if the many tales of him are true, he's not likely to either." Delden said. "What's going on Zechariah? Why do you need him?"
"No time to explain." Zechariah said as he dashed from the tavern, leaving Delden even more perturbed than before. He leapt up onto his horse and reigned him towards Perdale before kicking him into a gallop. Perhaps he would be able to catch up. Perdale wasn't too far, he could get there by nightfall...but he didn't have his money on him. He had left his draw belt on his desk. He wouldn't be able to pay for a bed. Perhaps if he found Fjord...but that was if he found Fjord. If Fjord had indeed gone directly to Perdale then he would likely be able to find him easily for the town would be abuzz with his arrival. But according to King Aurvan, Fjord had left Norgraith Cycles before he arrived in Hyran, a journey that should have only taken a few Ports, not a few Cycles. What had he been doing in between towns? He had to at least check.
Zechariah reigned in his horse. Damn his luck. He turned the horse back home. He would try to find Fjord still, but he'd have to get his draw belt first, and pack a few things. People were usually informed that Fjord would be arriving in their town some time before he arrived, just as his arrival had been announced by King Aurvan. It would be more difficult, but Zechariah would be able to find him...hopefully...eventually. Zechariah would head to Perdale today, and see if he could find any information on Fjord, but his hope was fading quickly.
Arriving back at home, Zechariah quickly explained that he would gone for a couple of days. When asked why, and where and what fore, he simply explained that he would be heading to Perdale, and that he would be back tomorrow before the Sun Fell. Grabbing his belt, packing a small sack of clothes and food, his whittling tools and a small knife, he went back to the horse who was still saddled. He tied on a few saddlebags, and filled them with feed and his pack, and then headed off to Perdale. He tried to ride fast, but didn't want to wear his horse out too fast, and so was forced to take a more steady pace...but it made him itch. He wanted to go, to gallop, to run on his own two feet if need be, but it wouldn't make anything faster.
November 13th
November 13th
Zechariah rode for hours, passing merchants and families as they made their way back home. He stopped a few times to give his horse a break, rubbing him down and keeping a close eye on the horse's well being. It wouldn't do to wound one of his father's horses before he left Hyran. The sun was on it's third Fall when Zechariah saw the first fishing boat upon the Artery and the haze of smoke from a thousand chimneys, and the sun was full in it's fourth Fall by the time Zechariah arrived at the gates. Perdale had, though it being quite costly, built itself a palisade around the entire town since the last time Zechariah had visited. It was rather impressive, though he couldn't see the purpose of it. When he arrived at the gates he was met by a crowd of disgruntled citizens who were being thoroughly inspected before being allowed entrance.
As he waited patiently among the crowd who struggled to form lines of any logical sort, likely because it was easier to cheat in the chaos of a throng instead of an orderly queue, he noticed a group of men riding in from the Barrens. There were nine in total, heavy laden with arms, though they seemed to not be wearing armor, being entirely clad in flowing robes of dirty white or light brown, and having heavy veils over their faces which were clasped to their cloaks upon their shoulders. Zechariah could not help but notice that one was carrying a bound man over his horse and a second was dragging a large sack behind...a sack that dripped with blood.
The crowd of peasants shifted uncomfortably as the men galloped toward them, being calmed by the Perdale soldiers at the gates. The riders rode past the crowd and approached the guards. The leader lent over and spoke quietly to the commander at the gates who promptly went to inspect the bloody sack after which he gave them a nod and waved them into Perdale.
When it came time for him to be subjected to the overzealous guardsmen he dismounted his horse to speak with them asking,
"What was all that then?" Zechariah inquired about the riders.
"We'll be asking the questions here. What's your name and purpose in Perdale?" One guard asked as another took notes in a ledger and a third inspected Zechariah's saddlebags.
"Zechariah Feldman. I'm looking for the Skald, Fjord Silverkin. Has he entered Perdale?" Zechariah inquired.
"Silverkin?" The guard asked, "Wasn't he in your town Feldman?"
"He's left. Last night as I hear, and I didn't see him upon the road either. He hasn't arrived then?" Zechariah asked feeling his heart fall at the news.
"Lec, check the ledger earlier this day. Morning shift didn't record Silverkin did they?" asked the commander.
"I'm afraid not sir." the one called Lec reported after a short minute.
"There you are. Bad news I'm afraid. Sure hope he hasn't come afoul of any ill fortune." The commander said.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. He apparently has a knack for that. Am I permitted entrance?" Zechariah asked.
The commander looked to the guard who had finished inspecting Zechariah's packs who nodded and then turned back to Zechariah saying, "All seems in order. Welcome to Perdale." as he stepped aside.
Zechariah led his horse into Perdale with a heavy heart. It was too late to turn back now. He might as well find a tavern to rest at, and head home in the morning. Damn his luck. He could never seem to catch a break sometimes. Where could have Silverkin gotten to? There's nothing between Hyran and Perdale, and unless you want a fairly dangerous journey across the Desserts' Web, the only way to Umar from Perdale is by boat. Aside from that, if one was particularly eager to die, you could head Peakward along the Spine, but that would take you right to Sil Do Moro, who now had reportedly fallen. Where else would he have gone?
Eventually, Zechariah made his way to the Broken Arrow Inn. It wasn't the finest establishment in Perdale by any stretch of the term. However, it was owned by a very friendly and well loved citizen, Goodman Harlan, which made the establishment immeasurably safer and, by proxy, more comfortable for you would have to be either a madman or desperate beyond measure to endanger Harlan. He was named 'Goodman' for a reason.
Leaving his horse tied by the stables he headed into the inn, to find the establishment unnaturally quiet save for one group of men who were rather boisterously singing a song by their lonesome. Looking around, Zechariah didn't see Goodman Harlan, but was hesitant to interrupt the group of men, recognizing them as the riders from the gates. They didn't wear the usual garb of workers or farmers who preferred linen or hide trousers and shirts. Even after removing their outer layer of cloaks, these men wore robes, but not of the elegant style of nobility. Their robes seemed to be made of linen though now that their travel garb had been removed he could see that they bore bright colors of reds, blues and greens. Not quite noble in quality, but certainly a fair drop wealthier than the average peasant, and now that their veils had been thrown back to enjoy company and drink, he could see that they were all darker skinned and very weather worn, bearing several scars as well. Pleased though he was to see that the bloody sack was not among them, he didn't feel like they were the kinds of people that he wanted to fraternize with.
Zechariah was about to turn to look for Harlan but something unusual caught his eye. Before he turned to leave he was drawn by the ghaalb that chittered happily by one man's side. A ghaalb of all things! He had heard about them before, but had never actually seen one. It stood upon it's six legs, chitinous shell open and clattering happily upon itself as it tried to join in the celebration of the men. Zechariah was enthralled, it's carapace had been covered in war paint, giving it a fearsome look, one that was only enhanced by it's vibrant purple innards being openly shown through it's segmented chitin. It seemed to have food of some sort clasped deftly in it's mandibles and munched away happily while 'signing' all the while. Zechariah leaned further around the door trying to get a better look at the creature, and quietly bumped the wall in doing so.
There was a loud 'Snap!' as the ghaalb slammed it's carapace shut with a sudden motion and dropped it's meal from it's jaws, suddenly hissing loudly, looking straight at Zechariah with it's three eyes. In one clean motion, all nine men leapt to their feet, kicking over their chairs as they did so, and drew an assortment of weapons, all pointed in Zechariah's direction.
Zechariah yelp in surprise and froze in place, peeping around the door.
"Who are you boy!" a man with a scimitar shouted through a heavy accent. After Zechariah just stood there stunned for a minute, he advanced menacingly. "Answer!" He commanded.
"Zech...Zechariah. Feldman." He stammered for a moment backing away from the door. "I'm a farmer, from Hyran.
"Stay right there." The stranger commanded as he approached Zechariah. Zechariah wasn't sure if he should comply or flee...but every moment of indecision made the impending decision more dangerous. Eventually, he concluded that at this point, should he try to run, that he would likely be cut down with ease, and so he simply stood still.
"I'm sorry for surprising you. I hadn't meant to cause alarm. I was just entranced by the ghaalb you possess."
The man who advanced on him gave Zechariah a quick pat down looking for hidden weapons, pulling out his carving tools and inspecting them. Zechariah noticed his dark eyes, almost black, matching his black hair which was rather curly and unruly. He was taller than Zechariah, and though Zechariah was certainly not lacking for muscle, this man had a dangerous litheness to his movements that bespoke years of experience with combat. Despite his somewhat rough appearance from a distance, up close, Zechariah could see that his beard was well trimmed and though he had likely been hard at work today, he had little odor about him.
"Zechariah you say?" The stranger asked eyeing him suspiciously.
"That's right." Zechariah confirmed.
"You do have the look of a farmer about you." He said snapping the box of tools shut and handing them back to Zechariah. "My apologize for the cold introduction." He said, his attitude changing abruptly and entirely. "My name is Khayrat Naji. Lieutenant of the Ghabar Rijali." He said, offering a bow with a flourish.
"Ghabar Rijali? You mean, you're one of the Dustmen?" Zechariah asked eyes going wide.
"Yes..." Khayrat answered slowly, "Dustmen, as you say."
"Oh! I didn't mean any offence, sorry." Zechariah apologized seeing Khayrat's expression.
"No apology needed. It is what you tend to call us in your tongue." Khayrat said, though it appeared that he did appreciate the apology. "This is my squad." He said turning to the eight within the commons. "Bishaer, Rushadi, Fazwa, Mudaris," all were hard looking men, "Sham'a, Iffat, Ramziyya, Nawfa and of course, Fluffy." all being equally hard looking women, except Fluffy, who he had named whilst pointing at the ghaalb.
"Fluffy?" Zechariah asked taken aback.
"Of course." Khayrat said completely straight faced. "Is this funny?"
"N-No..." Zechariah said extremely confused.
"Good. Come, join us Zechariah Feldman of..." He trailed off as an expectant question.
"Hyran. Arrongar is my father." Zechariah said.
"Zechariah Feldman Arrongarson of Hyran. It is a pleasure to have you join us. Tell us, what brings you to Perdale?" Khayrat asked, pulling a seat up for Zechariah to join the table. He took it uncomfortably as all twenty one eyes peered at him.
"Oh, I'm sure you don't want to hear about me. I'm just a farmer after all." Zechariah said ashamedly.
"Nonsense," said the one named Nawfa who, despite being as weather worn and scarred as the others was quite beautiful and sat regally in her chair. "Everyone has some interesting tales to tell no matter how boring their life may seem." She spoke without the same accent as Khayrat though she clearly shared the same heritage.
"I mean...I don't know what to say. I live on a farm, I work the farm, I come to Perdale twice a rotation to sell our goods. It's pretty mundane."
"That's not the point new one." the one named Mudaris said, speaking up. He was a bit older than the others, having an even spread of grey hairs throughout his beard, and a few more wrinkles upon the brow. "Every life has it's moments of boredom. Even us 'Dustmen' have many days of simply riding on horse back, but there always days in between that have excitement."
"Exactly!" exclaimed the youngest of the group, Bishaer, "tell us something odd."
"Well..." Zechariah said thoughts of the shadows re-entering his mind. No, not that, he wouldn't give that a place in his mind. What else? "Actually, I got to meet King Aurvan a few ports ago."
"HA!" cried Khayrat, "'I'm just a farmer' he says!" everyone else smiling or laughing with Khayrat. Fluffly began to pick up his meal again which...much to Zechariah's disgust' he realized was a human hand. He felt the blood drain from his head.
"Oh?" Khayrat said noticing his blanching, "you wonder why Fluffly eats a hand no?" Zechariah nodded feeling sick to the stomach. "It is because he must not forget how tasty we are. He is a hunter of men after all. What better incentive to hunt than a tasty meal at the end?"
"Isn't that...dangerous? What if he gets hungry for you?" Zechariah asked.
"Oh, I know he wants to eat me!" Khayrat laughed. "He is a ghaalb! However, he is a predator, so as long as he is well fed until the hunt, he is not a danger to us. And then, when he is not fed, he knows a hunt is coming, and he gets excited. It works well!" Khayrat explained.
"I suppose." Zechariah said unconvinced.
"Enough about Fluffy." said the one named Rimziyya. She wasn't nearly as pretty as Nawfa, but she looked like she could lift more than Zechariah and Amir together. "Tell us about Aurvan."
"Well, I'm not sure what to tell really. He came by Hyran looking to buy supplies on his way to Uthar. Both to feed his army and as a favor to High King Malik."
"Why is journeying to Uthar?" Mudaris asked
"You haven't heard?" Zechariah asked in puzzled. He had figured that word would have spread fast.
"Arrongarson," Khayrat began, "We do not stay often in your towns and cities. This is the first time we have returned in over three cycles."
"I...yes I suppose that makes sense. Umar is back at war." Zechariah said.
"Ohh." Rushadi, the biggest of the group said smiling as though he just understood the point of a joke. "That explains what that dragon bitch was screaming about as we tore her horns out." Unanimously the whole squad nodded and hummed similar realization. Zechariah was aghast.
"What?" he asked stunned.
"Oh..." Rushadi said again. "We caught a few of those bats scouting around the Barrens a few cycles back. Tore out their spikes, and then used them to poke out their own eyes. That was my idea." He said proudly. By Korvic, Zechariah had no idea who these people were. "Stuck them high on a pole as a warning to other gashets." He spat as some sort of insult that Zechariah did not understand.
Just as Zechariah was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable with the presence of these blood thirsty Dustmen, the door opened and Goodman Harlan stepped into the Inn.
"Greetings!" He exclaimed seeing Zechariah. "My most sincere apologies! I am afraid that I was out on some errands and was not able to greet you here properly!" He placed down a large sack he was carrying and hurried over to Zechariah. "You a place to stay I presume Master..."
"Feldman. Zechariah Feldman." Zechariah said. "And yes, a room would be wonderful."
"Fantastic! And how long will you be staying here Master Zechariah?" Harlan asked.
"Only the one night I'm afraid. I must be getting back to Hyran tomorrow." Zechariah explained.
"Very well. Very well indeed. Lets get you set up right away."
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