When Konrad had left the village and taken the days journey to Tajar, it had been the furthest he had travelled in his life, now he was traveling into a wilderness of the unknown.
Spirit didn’t share any of his misgivings. As soon as they had climbed up the winding road into the hills she had taken a sniff at the cold winds blowing from the north and bounded into the thick forest that bordered the road. Occasionally she would hide in the shadows of the trees and see how close she could get to the wagon before she was spotted.
“She has a remarkable skill,” Rolo said, scratching his beard and watching Spirit move. “It’s not natural.”
Rolo had organised their passage with ten other wagons heading north. The caravan was lead by a merchant named Vestus, who's official title was wagon master and he wore the heavy chain of office granted by the Duke of Tajar.
Rolo had proven himself to be a wonderful companion, as they rumbled along he told wonderful and wild stories that helped the miles pass quickly. He was a well of information about Parthanea, its history, and its various races and peoples; he also showed an equal interest in Konrad.
“What is it like to be a champion of the gods?” Rolo asked.
“It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“The gods are famous for gifts, what did they give you? I would love to see a fireball.”
Konrad smiled, thinking of Jasper and Gerrard back in Fallow Vale. Imagining the looks on their faces if he returned hurling fireballs around the village.
“I was given three gifts.. well four really,” he added, thinking of his leg. It hadn’t been so long ago that he had needed a crutch to walk around and his leg caused him constant agony.
“Lyran gave me the power to heal minor wounds. Casovan, that’s the cold bite, gave me resistance to the cold.”
“You’ll need that where we are going I promise you. Once it was so cold my campfire froze solid, the very flames turned to ice.”
Konrad watched the young northman try to keep a straight face before he burst out laughing. “Perhaps it wasn’t that cold, but resistance to the cold is a useful skill, what about the others?”
“Well Avram, the long night. He gave me some skill at hiding in shadows, but there was an accident. I don’t think he can see very well as he doesn’t have a face so to speak, so he accidentally gave the power to Spirit.”
“The gift of darkness and shadows, I would have chosen that over the resistance to cold,” Rolo said, watching the dog disappear once more into the trees. “You mentioned a fourth gift?”
“I was born with a leg that didn’t work. All my life it was useless. I couldn’t work in the fields so I had to work with the older folk.”
“A rare gift.”
“It’s changed my life, I never thought I would be able to go on adventures.”
“I’m not talking about the leg, although it is a fine leg as far as legs go. I mean it’s a rare gift to spend so much time in the company of those who have such wisdom to give you. I can see now why you have good sense and judgement. In the north the elders are respected, not like in the south.”
As was the case after spending time with Rolo, Konrad began to think about his life from an entirely new perspective.
“Which god gave you this fourth gift? You didn’t mention their name.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t know it.”
Konrad described as best he could the wizened and weak figure that he saw in the shrine.
“I haven’t heard of these lesser gods, in the north we know the Mother, the Father and the Brother, that’s all.”
The big man looked to either side of the road and when he spoke his voice was lower so that he would not be overheard. “You might be best to keep your stories of sprites and mysterious gifts to yourself. The merchant, Vestus who runs this caravan is a superstitious man and the last thing we need is to be left behind.”
Anyone who Rolo thought was superstitious must be very particular indeed. Their first night on the road Rolo had refused to stay in a local tavern as one of the patrons had started to whistle inside and Rolo claimed that it invited evil.
The rest of the day was spent on the high seat of Rolo’s wagon as it rumbled along. Konrad had a thousand questions about the lands they were passing through and Rolo never tired of speaking. He talked about the province of Tajar and the Lost Coast to the south where bandits and pirates fled to escape the growing power of the arcanists and formed their own ruling council. He talked about the journey by ship to other continents and although he had never voyaged, he had heard stories of great sea creatures and foreign lands ruled by powerful magic wielders who lived in tall towers.
“Arcanists live in towers, and witches live in threes, those are the only certainties in this world. That’s what my grandmother said and so it is,” Rolo intoned.
Curiously he spoke little of the north. Konrad pressed him for details of his family and the great cities in the frozen tundra, but Rolo moved the topic onto other things. He did notice the young northerner look often to the skyline ahead with a furrowed brow.
Each night they circled the wagons and joined the rest of the caravan for a shared meal. A fire burned merrily in the middle and some of the wagon drivers drank a strong, acrid liquor. Musical instruments were pulled out of cases and played with varying degrees of skill and Rolo, it was no surprise to learn, was in possession of a fine baritone and sang powerful songs from the north. As he sang he switched from common to northern, and the rich and mysterious language fed Konrad's anticipation for the adventures ahead.
After a week they arrived in a larger settlement called Humbert to trade and rest the horses. Rolo took his own wagon to the market and was quickly deep in conversation with a group of local hunters.
Konrad surveyed his possessions. For weapons he now had a short dagger, the blade as long as his palm, and short sword given to him by Athir. He needed to sharpen the sword and buy a decent piece of armour. Some clothing for the cold weather would also be a good idea. Rolo had lent him furs from his wagon but what he needed was a pair of sturdy boots.
“Come on Spirit, let's go and have a look around.”
The grey dog slipped from the wagon and took her place at his side, his hand resting lightly on her head. He’d tried to stop the habit as he didn’t need her to steady him any more, but she’d insisted and he didn’t mind really.
After making a few enquiries he found his way to a small musty store where he paid four silver pieces for a pair of old boots lined with fur. The store keeper then directed him to a blacksmith on the edge of the small town.
He heard the rhythmic twang of a hammer hitting metal long before he reached the end of the dirt road and found a squat thatched hut with a covered work area to the side. He spotted a tanning rack, a stone wheel for shaping blades, and a large round fire pit with various metal racks suspended over it.
The blacksmith was standing at a battered anvil, his hammer rising high into the air before smashing back down. Spirit flattened her ears against the noise and slinked off to lay in the grass a short way away.
“Hello, excuse me?” Konrad called.
The rhythmic banging stopped abruptly and the blacksmith turned, holding an enormous pair of tongs in one hand and a hammer in the other.
He had a bald head and a great whiskery beard flecked with grey that was singed in places. His ruddy face was heavily wrinkled and rivulets of sweat had run through the soot. He would have looked intimidating if it wasn’t for the fact that he stood the same height as Konrad.
He had never met a true dwarf before, they lived far to the east and rarely travelled. If this blacksmith wasn’t at least part dwarf, Konrad would have been very surprised.
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“Hello there, what can I do for you?”
“My names Konrad, I’m passing though on my way north. I have a sword that needs to be repaired and I need some armour.”
“Do you now, well my names Pääbo.” He held out a hand that was blackened with soot and Konrad shook it noting the tough calluses on his palms.
Konrad dropped his bundle and pulled out the sword.
“Well now, this was a fine thing at one time, looks a bit sorry for itself now,” Pääbo said, inspecting the sword. He pulled out a small fine hammer from his belt and Konrad noticed that he had a dozen such small implements tucked away.
“Those don’t look like they’re for horse shoes.”
Pääbo gave Konrad a sly grin. “You’ve a keen eye. These are for my other work.”
Pääbo reached into his shirt and pulled out a delicate metal chain. The pendant on the end was of magnificent craftsmanship. It was the size of a gold piece and depicted an image of the Mother holding her lamp in one hand and her sword in the other. Around the edges were minuscule letters that Konrad guessed would be the words from the mother’s prayer.
“You made this? It’s beautiful,” Konrad breathed. “How much does one cost?”
“Well this one here of the Mother is the most popular and it’ll set you back a hundred gold pieces. But if you want a custom job, deity of your choice, or perhaps your sweetheart back home, that’ll run you around one hundred and fifty gold.”
Konrad put a hand to his purse, knowing that he only had around five gold in his pouch. He hadn’t wanted to take any more than that from the temple of Lyran when he left Tajar.
“Not for now, thanks. I’ll just focus on the sword.”
“Suit yourself.”
Pääbo tapped the sword lightly with several of the small hammers and listened carefully to the ringing of the metal. Then with one expert blow with the large hammer he detached the hilt and set it aside.
“This is a Malencalf sword.”
“It that special?” Konrad felt his excitement creeping up. All great champions had famous swords. If it was enchanted in any way then all the better.
“Not really I’m afraid. It comes from an old southern tongue I think, it means useful. It’s just a sword. Not a bad sword. Certainly stabby.”
“How much would it cost to repair it?”
“I can sharpen it and re-wrap the hilt for you for six silver bits, if you want a new scabbard that’ll cost you a gold piece for the whole lot.”
A whole gold, a fifth of the money he had and he hadn’t even reached the north.
“Okay, but I’ll need it done for tomorrow, we’re leaving at first light.”
“Not a problem, pay half now half tomorrow.”
Konrad counted out a half a gold piece worth of silver and copper bits and handed them to Pääbo who put them in the pocket of his apron.
“Now you mentioned armour. I can fit you with a nice full set in leather for three gold.”
Konrad looked down at the coin purse in his hand which now felt considerably lighter.
“No thanks, just the sword for now.”
“Well I’ll have this ready by tomorrow morning. Did you say you were heading up to the north?”
“I did, I don’t know where exactly though.”
Pääbo appraised Konrad carefully for a few moments.
“There’s a metal that they mine up there in the mountains, tough to get hold of, and expensive. But if you could get me some of it I’d be prepared to pay very well.”
“I can always try,” Konrad replied. “Where do I find it?”
“Well that’s the thing, they don’t like to tell anyone where it is but they call it Linium.”
“I’ll try to get some, but if I do I don’t want payment in gold.”
Pääbo smiled and rubbed his hands together. “This sounds interesting, what would you like in return? I have some jewels, some wonderful swords. Throwing knives? Perfectly balanced.”
The thought of throwing knives was tempting but Konrad already knew what he wanted.
“I want a pendant, like that one.”
Pääbo whistled though his teeth. “That’s quite a reimbursement.”
“I’ll provide the material,” Konrad said quickly.
“It’ll have to be pure gold boy, the Mother doesn’t take kindly to cheapskates.”
“I don’t want the mother,” Konrad hesitated, but it somehow felt right. “I want a god called Cloda.”
“Cloda.” Pääbo said in a hollow voice, before seeming to collect himself.
“You’ve heard of her?”
“Nope, never heard of her. But then again there’s hundreds of gods right? Big, small. The southerners worship some Faelen demons I heard.”
Pääbo was silent for a moment, seeming to do a mental calculation in his head.
“If you get me two pounds of Linium ore we’ve a deal. How will I know what this god of yours looks looks like?”
Konrad made to reach for his shoes where he kept the small ring of Cold given to him by Erwan the herdsman. But something about Pääbo’s tone made him hesitate.
“I don’t know, I think she has a temple in Tajar,”
“It just turns out I often have to go to Tajer on business, so perhaps I’ll have a look. I’ll need two pounds of Linium ore mind, and they won’t be happy to give it to you so you be careful.”
Pääbo kept his tone light but Konrad felt that the dwarf knew full well that there was no temple to Cloda in the big city.
After they shook hands Konrad and Spirit left Pääbo and walked back to the town.
“What did you think of him Spirit? He looked like he recognised that name Cloda.”
Spirit was too busy sniffing around and so Konrad chalked it up to half a mystery, glad he kept some of his secrets to himself.
There was a feeling of industry in the town as preparations were made for the long winter to come. Konrad spotted a group of women chopping vegetables and dropping them into large clay pots of strong smelling vinegar, oil and spices. They would be buried under ground for several months to ferment and brought out to provide some much needed sustenance when the ground was frozen solid.
Spirit heard the shouts before Konrad and bounded ahead. Rolo was by his wagon, red faced and roaring at two large northerners who faced him. Another northern man was lying on the floor at his feet clearly dazed from being knocked down.
“You still want to call me weak?” Rolo yelled.
The two men reached down and helped their friend to his feet backing away.
“Don’t go back to Montdun Rolo, you’re done. Luthers in charge now,” one of them yelled.
“Lies,” Rolo shouted, his face was bright red and he looked like he was going to explode. He launched himself at the men and Konrad dashed in-between them, but it was like trying to stop the water from a bust dam. It was only Spirit’s low dangerous growl that finally gave the young northman pause. Her dark eyes were fixed on him and she raised her hackles, baring her teeth.
“Stop Rolo, please,” Konrad said.
Rolo turned back to his wagon and began to angrily throw his wares back inside.
“What was that about?” Konrad asked, picking up some furs and depositing them in the wagon bed.
“They were spreading rumours about my family, slanderous lies.”
“Well if they were lies what does it matter?” Konrad asked.
“In the north the honor of our name means everything to us. I have to get back immediately, I’m sorry.”
Konrad knew what Rolo meant, he wouldn’t be able to accompany him to the coast to fulfil Casovans quest.
Konrad felt Spirit beside him and placed his hand on her head.
“If you’re going back to help your family, then we’re coming with you.”
Rolo appeared to let the last of his anger fade and he smiled.
“I’d be lucky to have you Konrad, but this is my burden, you have your own adventures ahead of you.”
“You were prepared to help me, so I’m going to help you. Spirit too.”
Spirit barked loudly and span around excitedly.
“I can see that you’re prepared to be stubborn about this, and it would be prideful of me to refuse help when it’s offered. Very well, we’ll travel to Monthdun together. Let’s go to the tavern, if you’re going to join me you’ll have to understand more about the situation there.”
With the wagon loaded, Konrad and Rolo found a corner table at the tavern and ordered cups of ale. The fire burned merrily in the main room and as they sat Rolo recounted the rise and fall of the northern house of Dauska.
Several generations ago the northmen lived a bleak existence in the far north. There was happiness and times of joy to be sure, but in general seeking out an existence on the ice was hard. Hunting Giant Tuskers from small boats and trekking south to trade and sell their oils and pelts. Then a discovery was made in the mountain caves that the northmen called home.
“What was it?” Konrad asked, enchanted by the story.
“Linium, an ore the arcanists value over anything else.”
Linium was the ore that Pääbo asked for, but the blacksmith was far from what Konrad thought that an arcanist would look like.
“What do they do with it?”
Rolo shrugged. “I don’t really understand it, but it has something to do with the magic in the laylines.” Seeing the blank look on Konrads face he went on. “They have these balls and they hold power,” he said, struggling to explain the unfamiliar concept. Then he snapped his fingers. “You’ve seen the flying citadel, yes?”
“Once, but from very far away,”
“How do you think it gets up in the air? There are hundreds of arcanist’s balls underneath it, and inside the balls is Linium.”
“And it all comes from the north.”
“There must have been other deposits, the citadels are older than any of us, but the deposit in the north was the biggest one in our lifetime.”
“So what has this got to do with your family, what did those men want?”
“My family are the chiefs of Montdun, the region where one of the deposits was found. We’ve looked after it for five generations, carefully mining what we need to support the people of our area. But the deposit isn’t endless, one day there’ll be none left and there’s tension between those who think we should sell it all now, and those who think we should be more careful.”
“Whats wrong with selling it, couldn’t you give more money to the people?”
Rolo shook his head and pulled out his axe, laying it on the table.
“How much would you pay for this?”
“I don’t need an axe.”
“No, what do you think its worth?”
“I don’t know, two gold?”
Rolo made a strangled sound, clearly feeling that his beloved axe was worth more. “What if I have two hundred of the same axe, and that man over there was also selling two hundred. Would this still be worth two gold?”
“No, it would be cheaper.”
“Exactly, when you have more to sell the price goes down. Then what happens when it runs out? No, we had to manage what we have carefully.” A dark expression crossed his face. “But that was not what the other houses did. The arcanists promised them whatever they desired in exchange for access to the whole deposit of Linium.”
“They took it all?”
Rolo moved in closer to Konrad, his voice barely above a low rumble. “Not all of it. There was a small deposit left under my family home. My younger brother wanted to take it all out and sell it. The price is higher than ever before now that there is such a limited amount available. I disagreed and we fought. I struck him and I was forced to leave.”
“Is that what those men were talking about?”
“They were talking about my brother, Luther. Something’s happened and I don’t think it can be anything good.”
“What’s our plan?”
Rolo gulped down the rest of his ale, wiping the frothy residue from his beard.
“We go north of course, family matters are messy, and best dealt with in person. Let's rest, we have an early start.”
“I have to pick up my sword from the blacksmith tomorrow before we leave, he’s making me a new scabbard too,” Konrad said.
“But tomorrow's the third day.”
“So?”
“It’s bad luck to buy something new on the third day.”