[Synopsis] [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

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CHAPTER THREE

     Talbor leaned into the table, and laced his fingers around the mug. The large muscular man, immune to the inn's merriment, stared into the light amber liquid. Troubled, dark circles under his eyes revealed his lack of sleep. His healer insisted the dream was no more than his fear of responsibility. Once he conquered this fear, the dream would cease. Talbor knew better. The fogged vision of strangers and weapons, along with city being named haunted him. Ignoring his healer advice, he spoke to the Teller of Dreams. On Salmom's recommendation, he sought knowledge held in the archives. The Keeper of the Archives for the House of Folista had assured him this was the mystic city mentioned in his dream. But he questioned the Keeper's knowledge. Was he summoned to a different Quasta, had he arrived too early? Looking around, he hoped to see those he was to met.
     Though sitting in different areas of the inn, two individuals caught his interest. At the bar, a young blond haired woman stood. Her crude language informed any would-be suitor, she wasn't interested in their advances. Though, like him, dressed in light tan tunic and pants, woman's clothing gave no clue to her origin. The style and cut of her boots made her boot knifes and sheathes almost invisible. Being small she was pleasing to watch, but had a hard untrusting look about her. Talbor had had experiences with women such as her. Their hands easily found their ways into any man's pouch.
     At a large table a red haired, brown robed figure sat. Partially hidden in the shadows, a man sat in deep thought. He tried to avoid the light, but the mark of the Fourth House of Power was visible on the back of his left hand. He and the young woman had the same tormented look. They, like Talbor waited for someone or something, with food and drink virtually untouched.
     Kicking an admirer aside, the young woman walked toward the table in the shadows. Talbor started to follow, but stopped when the inn's door opened. The inn's patrons began speaking in rushed whispers. Those patrons closest to the door became silent. Something distorted by darkness stood in the doorway.
     Talbor stared at the strangest group Canthija had placed on the land. A giant ebony skinned woman, a Small-one, and a cat large enough to serve as a riding beast for children entered. No one was going to tell these strangers the cat was unwelcome. The giant woman looked around before signaling the Small-one and cat to go to the table occupied by the lone brown robed man. Talbor followed, as did the young woman. Sitting at the round table, they watched each other. Each knew they were no longer in control of their destiny, something else was.
     The inn's uneasy silence was broken when a group men near a massive stone fire pit started laughing. From the sound of their laughter a vulgar joke had been told. One of the men, still laughing bowed low before walking toward the fire pit. He picked up a mandolin that was laying against the stone wall.
     The would-be minstrel began strumming the instrument. He wondered slowly around the room. He stopped at the table were the tormented group sat. Bowing low to the women, he said, "In honor of the ladies, a song."
     A cold chill gripped the inn as he began reciting the poorly composed, slightly off keyed song.

* * * *

"A young maid, once known as Ursa pledged herself in love.
for her this could never be,
In grief for a love denied she jumped from her prison
into a blue gray sea.
Her body fell to foam covered rocks below.
her essence trapped never to be free.

Some believe the essence of Ursa did not remain
but was carried to the Seventh Land,
It is said during the time of the Red-Black Moon she walks
not this rocky shore but by a tower stands,
The tower she watches is said to of rock and stone
with its treasure hidden by mystic hands.

Here she shall remain till one who dwells in the Seventh Land,
returns once more to walk with mortal kind,
The tower with these treasure are buried deep
beyond the thoughts of mortal mind.
Can be found not far from the central land near
a place once called Craina's Find.

This place is now forgotten hidden for a time
as are the tongues that spoke them.
Do you have the knowledge will the Old Ones once more be,
is it time now for their long wait to end?
It is you who shall bring truth from a forgotten past
what once was shall be again."

* * * *

The minstrel looked at the three men and quickly whispered the last few stands.

* * * *

"Be worthy of this quest, oh foolish ones,
let danger be your guide.
The dark ones now wait in hiding,
have they claim all others who have tried."

* * * *

     The minstrel, finishing his song, smiled at the women and passed his hat around. A man standing near the bar, staggered toward the minstrel, and demanded proof that such a place existed. The minstrel looked in the direction of his companions and winked before answering. "All legends have fact." And started laughing.
     The drunk slurred, "Dog droppings." And pushed the minstrel into the table.
      Food and ale spilled on the table, the blond haired woman and floor. The small woman jumped to her feet as the minstrel sprawled across the table nearly landing her lap. The inn burst into laughter. The laughter turned to gasps of horror when both women and the big man reached for their weapons.
     Hearing the laughter then gasps, a large man dressed in black with a short single bladed ax strapped to his waist pushed his way through the crowd. Standing between the minstrel and the drunk he said, "There shall be no more violence or talk of blasphemy. remember, during the Trials of Judgment, all must obey the laws. Even a fool's mark such as the two of you will be dealt with. As an enforcer, only my good mood and this festive atmosphere prevents your judgment at this time"
     The enforcer poked his finger in the minstrel's chest. "Don't push your luck." He jerked his head at the drunk. "You, go home to your flee infested house and ugly wife." He glared at the two women and man. "Mind well our laws."
     The smaller of the women re-sheathed her dagger and started to wipe the liquid and food off the table. The man in black studied the five for a second before stopping the smaller woman. He bellowed at a man sitting near them. "Give her your chair." Scanning the room he ordered, "Barmaid tend to this mess. Guest should not have to clean up after drunks or fools."
     Bowing to the women, he glanced at Talbor and brought his hand to his chest. The enforcer said, "I am Tremon. You should have no more trouble from the likes of him. He sometimes speaks of things he has little knowledge of. You being strangers, a word of advice. Every seven cycles," He glanced at Fen-Rod. "during the Festival of the Red-black Moon, the Trials of Judgment are held. All who enter Quasta must abide by our laws." He gave a cautious looked in Girmer and Star Danc's direction. "If asked, the barmaid will explain these laws, and what happens to those who choose to remain ignorant of them."
     Tremon, leaving, saw the minstrel and asked, "Well, what are you waiting for?"
     As the minstrel scampered for the door, it opened. Two armed guards dressed in gray with light blue sash entered. The minstrel ran for the protection of the kitchen. Tremon folded his hands, and touched his forehead before backing away.
     The two guards looked around, before one announced, "There art strangers among thee who hath been careless. They hath yet to comply with the laws governing the Trials of Judgment. Generally those so careless art banished to the out-lands. The High One, however, hast shown interest in this group. May they give thanks to the one they honor, for they now sit at the Dream Master's table."
     The five new-comers watched patrons move back as the guards walked past. If it was fear or respect was unclear. When the guards stopped at the table the five was sitting, Star Danc started to rumble a warning. Girmer signaled for the cat to remain still, she didn't want any trouble, if it could be avoided.
     Looking at the group, the taller of the guards asked, "Hast thee chosen a leader? It matters not. Thee shall be escorted to the House of Truth. Baron Eathel and the High One await thy arrival. Be prepared at first cock's crow for this audience, or a pain that no life force canst withstand wilst be thine for eternity.
      "This eve t'is thine, all coin wilst be paid by she who hath summoned thee. However ale and wine art limited. Mind well our laws, the User among thee hast knowledge of them. Ask him if thee feelth it t'is necessary." Pausing the speaker glanced at Girmer. "Thy cat t'is also expected." Both guards crossed their arms to their chest and bowed before leaving.
     Four sets of eyes turned to the robed man. They waited for him to say something. After several minutes, Fen-Rod realized the User wasn't going to speak. He took a deep breath, and pushed his chair back. Standing he looked at the group before saying, "We were all brought here by the same cursed dream. The more we know about each other, the better our chances are of succeeding at what ever we were summoned for. I make no claim to leadership, but we should at least know each other's name.
     "I am Fen-Rod La Mamska. My clan dwells in the Hills of Grapis. My blood calling is that of healer. I believe I was summoned because of my long lineage of healing herbs. I have the knowledge of what plants in the wild are safe and if water is sweet. None in my care need fear poisoning, if they listen to me."
     Fen-Rod glanced at the User before saying, "Let's start with you." The slightly built man, with the mark of power on the back of his left hand, started to frown but remained silent. When he folded his hands, the sleeves of his brown robe fell to the table top exposing his pale arms. Leaning toward Fen-Rod, the User pointed an index finger. "Who are you to question me?"
     The User's icy gray eyes penetrated Fen-Rod. Fen-Rod held his breath. The hair on his arms began to tingle from the heat of the User's glare. Though Fen-Rod didn't believe in mystic powers, he knew the power of a User's mind was not superstitious fear. Even a weak User could summon fire.
     With a chuckle the User waved his hand. "However I will tell you who I am. I was born Casron Shalomish. Unlike you, I did not need an interpreter for my dream. I let my instincts guide me." Casaron's voice became as icy as his eyes. "Stranger's annoy me. If we are to work as one, then I will do what is expected of me. Ask no more of me. I will offer only what is necessary. My calling does not permit me the luxury of idle chatter or friendship."
     Fen-Rod shook his head. "This is our User, Canthija help us all." Then looked at the big man. "And you?"
     "I am Talbor Meckolins. I have traveled from Folista. My past and family is of no concern to those sitting at this table. I tell you now, I know of no woman that has the stamina for wilderness journeys. I cannot do my duty, if I have to watch their backs or console them after battle. It would be wiser if these women returned to the safety of their father's houses.
     Fen-Rod knew the stranger, calling himself Talbor, had stepped over the fragile beginnings of an uncertain truce. He hoped Girmer would show common sense and remain silent. His prayers went unanswered. In one swift movement she was on her feet with her sword unsheathed. Because of her pride, they would probably feel an executioner's blade before the moon set.
     The Small-one, looking at Grimer, pleaded. "Please sit down before everyone pays for your wounded pride. You'll have the chance to prove your abilities."
     Girmer re-sheathed her sword and whispered angrily. "If I was to be thrown in with a group of fools, why did it have to be where there are no keepers of males?" The giant woman tightened her jaw and shifted her eyes to the healer. She pulled her boot knife and placed it on the table before retaking her set. Leaning over the table, centimeters from Talbor's face she told him, "I am Girmer, warrior of Aszia. I tell you now, Aszian women need no male's protection." She nodded at the cat. "Beside me is Star Danc. We travel as one. My language to him is that of the mind, such as it is to all who are worthy to go into battle with me." She glared at Casaron, continuing. "Be forewarned User, Star Danc cannot easily be spellbound."
     The ebony skinned woman nodded in the direction of the smaller woman. "The other female will lodge with me. I have no desire for a male's foolishness or moon rise pleasure."
     Four at the table looked at the only one who hadn't spoke. Everyone knew what she was. Clearing her throat, she shrugged her slim shoulders. She smiled and bit her bottom lip. "Well, since we all had the same dream, I guess ya know where I fit in. I'm Iritha Sheves. I don't justify my actions. Just accept me as a friend, an' I'll get ya what ya need without regret. I never turn on, or take from a friend." Almost as a warning her voice turned hard. "Don't question why or how I do thin's'."
     Fen-Rod rubbed his temples. A loner, a loose winch, an explosive warrior and an arrogant fool. Some group. He watched the User from the corner of his eye before asking, "User, can you tell us anything about these laws everyone's warning us about?"
     The User shook his head before answering. "One of my teachers vaguely spoke of this mystic city. From what I remember, these laws apply for the most part, to Users and those with the gift of sleep sight. No spellbinding or translations are permitted. Those not born to these blood callings must keep all weapons sheathed." Shifting his eyes to Girmer, he added, "No blood can be drawn in anger."
     Looking past the bar to the door, Fen-Rod decided, the sooner they left the gates of this city, the better. Shaking his head, he called a barmaid. He hoped some ale would relax them. If nothing else a stout mug of ale, might put them in a more festive mood. His clan celebrated the Festival of the Red-black moon. The drinking of strong ale often preceded the festival. He didn't know what if any celebration the others held. One thing he did know, his would probably be his last drink until the completion of this journey. The ale remaining in his pack had to be saved, it might be needed for healing later.
     With her mug filled, Girmer watched Fen-Rod stumble over his words. She quietly agreed with his earlier statement, of not being a leader, and took a swallow of the bitter liquid. With a slight nod of her head, she let him know he had said the right things. Standing, she folded her arms. "Well now that introductions have been made, a leader or one to act as speaker must be chosen. This should be done before anyone leaves this table. First cock's crow comes before the sun brakes the horizon. At that time we shall discover what our future holds. Since males rule this land, choose Talbor. He has the arrogance to judge what is unknown. Let us hope his ability to lead is better than his ability to think."
     She grabbed her boot knife from the table. Pointing it at Talbor, she re-sheathed it. Arching an eyebrow, she retook her set. With a slight nod, she raised her drink to him.

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[Synopsis] [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]