The houses grew taller and clustered closer together as they neared the city center, yet they still kept the swooping, gabled roofs. Jaerd noticed dilapidated wood and the lack of fresh paint on many. Dirty children played in the streets with a couple of yapping dogs, while a cacophony of harsh laughter rang out from a leaning tavern. Half a dozen ragged beggars sat along a single block, their cups as empty as their eyes.
Boris frowned. “Kirath has seen better days.”
Jaerd looked to Dawne, who huddled inside her heavy cloak. “You joined us in Kirath. Were things this rough?”
She shook her head. “I never spent any time here. I joined General Vahn and his men in Novon, when I chose not to go to the Bardic College.”
Pointing at his sister, Jaerd forced his voice to approximate his father whenever he had gotten into trouble years ago. “Which is where you are headed, young lady, as soon as I can get you there.” At signs of her protest, he lifted a strict finger. “It’s either that, or back to the Gryphon where Glynn can watch over you. I’ll not see another of my siblings caught in the path of the Fires.”
Dawne remained silent and sank further into the hood of her cloak.
The somber mood of Kirath seemed to infect everyone as they rode to the mayor’s keep. The ramshackle structure loomed over the city, guarding a row of granaries. A wall encircled the entire compound, protected by a half dozen stone towers. Jaerd noticed men marching in and out of them, the glint of steel flashing with their movement.
The gate loomed over the rest of the city, stone speckled with lichen. Despite the poor state of the town, gold capped the pointed roofs of the gate towers, and richly embroidered tapestries hung from the battlements. The gate guards wore burnished steel with silver flares – their tabards silver-stitched gray silk.
Jaerd set his jaw. “Seems like some do alright here.”
“Hail, Captain of the Gate!” Boris called, shifting his somewhat tattered blue cloak. “We come from Highspur with dire news. Your mayor must prepare to evacuate the people. An orc host closes upon your doorstep.”
Nervous murmurs ran through the gray-clad guards nearby. An old man hobbling through the street paused, and then shuffled off in a different direction with quite a bit more speed.
Magus Britt scratched his gray goatee. “Boris...perhaps this is not the place to announce our news so openly.”
The earl glared at the gate where a polished officer with gold-trimmed armor trotted down from the battlement. “I want these people afraid.” He stepped Balthar toward the officer, who carried a scowl on his face and a rushed discord to his uniform. “Captain, I am the Earl Boris Mourne, General of the Royal Guard of Gannon. My companions are each lords of their own realm, some higher of rank than I.” He pushed his words over the soldier before the man could utter a sound. “We come from Highspur and must speak with the mayor. The mighty fortress has fallen.”
Again, the guards murmured. One ran toward the next tower, while an older soldier dropped his spear and dashed into the city.
The captain shouted over the rumble. “Here now, get in order you maggots!”
“You heard the captain,” a thick sergeant barked. “Shut yer traps!”
The gold-trimmed officer then turned on Earl Boris. “And you, sir, if a lord you truly be, why do you go spouting nonsense to get my soldiers in a huff? I’ll be chasing down rumors in taverns for days now.”
Jaerd smiled at the fear on the captain’s face when Boris let Balthar loose. The big stallion almost bumped his chest against the officer.
“I am the Earl of Mourne, and I will have an audience with the mayor.” He reined Balthar back, but only half a step. “Every life in this city is at stake.”
A wrinkle of uncertainty warped the captain’s brow. “They aren’t my concern. Lord Kodi Sokonda is my concern…him and his grain.”
The granite stare that Boris hurled in the captain’s direction unsettled even Jaerd. Magus Britt looked ready to blast fire on the man. Brawny paced back and forth behind Jaerd, a snarl gathering low in his throat.
The captain gulped, his lips moving slightly. His scratched his chin before he nodded. “I will escort you to Mayor Kodi’s mansion.” He looked to a nearby guard. “Inform his Honor we are coming immediately!” The guard dashed away, clinging to his helmet in haste. The captain regained some of his composure before turning to Boris. “Come, my Lord Earl.”
Bowing his head with grace, Boris followed the captain through the gate. Jaerd and the other companions followed along behind.
“They say the mayor’s parents were cousins,” Khalem Shadar whispered from his horse. “And his father’s parents were brother and sister.”
Jaerd looked at Dawne and both wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Thank the Waters we weren’t born up here.”
Tilli, whose silence had haunted them across the Wastes, cleared her throat. “It’s only in that one family. Dwarves from here often intermingle with those of us from the Rock and the surrounding vales.” She examined a couple of the shorter guards. “It is also said that Dwarves, Humans, and Elves intermarry here in Kirath more than anywhere in the world.”
Turning to look at them with his one violet eye, Gael wrinkled one lip in distaste. “They do marry, but children from such unions are exceedingly rare.”
“But it has happened.” Tilli shifted to watch the guards along the wall. “A cousin of mine had a human grandfather. He died long ago, but she still lives near here.”
Trying not to look too closely at Tilli, Jaerd realized he instead examined all the guards, including the captain who led them.
Is that ear slightly pointed? Is he a little too thick and short? I wonder what Tilli’s cousin looks like…
A jolt interrupted his thoughts as their party stopped in front of the wide steps leading up to the door of the mayor’s home.
It looks more a keep than a mansion.
He dismounted along with the others, an unbidden smile creeping onto his face when he heard Dawne groan as she hit the ground. Brawny nudged his hand with a hard, shaggy forehead. The Kirathi captain turned back toward his gate, leaving them with the two men on either side of the entrance.
Before Boris could mount the steps, the main door swung open and a mixed party exited the building. Several dark-helmeted guards surrounded a thin, pale-faced man with lanky, white hair. The man lifted a small, silver box, opened it, and pinched out a bit of brown powder. He then promptly snorted it and sneezed into a lace kerchief.
“Wewll,” the man twittered. “I bewieve you are in the wrong country, my Lord Earl.” Jaerd fought to stifle a laugh at the man’s impediment. “We here in Kiwath do not seek battle so quickwy.”
“My Lord Mayor.” Boris’ voice remained steady, his expression carved from a mountain. “I must warn you of the doom that marches on your city.” A cold tone entered the earl’s words. “Highspur has fallen, sir. Fifty thousand orcs swarm this way, and thousands more follow behind or sit in the remains of our broken fortress.”
One or two of the guards shuffled their feet, while their commander fingered his sword pommel. Kodi only giggled. “Why Earl Boris…the jest you make is quite entertaining.” He fluttered the kerchief about his face. “You Gannonites do have such an odd sense of humow.”
Despite the fact that Jaerd knew he must be broiling underneath, a thin veneer of polite calm held on Boris’ face. “My Lord Mayor, this is no joke. We are among the few survivors, only just now arrived in your city from Highspur.” He slammed a fist into his hand. “You must prepare your people to evacuate, Mayor Kodi. Your short walls will not stand against the coming horde.”
The mayor’s flippant expression flashed to one of rage. “You will not insult my people, Earl Boris Mourne. We are no cowards.” He sniffed from his snuff box once again. “Even if your story is twue, there cannot be that many orcs in the entire Northlands.” He gestured to his guards. “I will not hear these silly stories. We will return to the dinner pawty.” The mayor’s pale eyes glared at Boris. “You may stay in Kiwath for the night, but you shall be on to Gannon in the morning.”
The mayor spun about and marched back into his home, the guards swarming around him in a more martial fashion than they had brought him out.
The reaction on Boris’ face would have made Jaerd wilt had it been directed at him. He noticed the muscles in the earl’s jaw working under his stubble-covered skin. Whatever exhaustion remained in his stance from their journey across the Wastes burned away to be replaced by a fierce rage.
Is that the sound of his teeth grinding?
Most of the others in the party stood silently rooted to the cobblestones. Magus Britt clung to his staff so hard his knuckles whitened. Khalem Shadar shook his head sadly.
Jaerd said nothing and moved even less. He only waited for his commander’s next order.
“Come,” Boris growled at last. “If he wants to die, let him die.”
When they returned to the main gate, Earl Boris grabbed the captain by the scruff of his collar. The fear on the man’s face let tell why he did not resist. The intensity of Boris’ gaze could almost burn stone.
“You will want to take what soldiers you can and flee with your people toward Novon.” Boris loosened his grip. “It is the nearest city with a fortified wall. It is where we will muster the army of Gannon. Then we can return to liberate Kirath and Highspur.”
The captain shook his head, his jowls quivering. “I cannot abandon my lord.”
Boris released the man to fall back to his heels. “Then you will die with him.” He turned to Jaerd and the others. “Let’s be on. I am done with these fools, and the sooner we return to Gannon, the sooner we can be back.”
Outside the gates, a young soldier with a fearful look on his face slipped up beside them. “My lords,” he whispered. “You may try the city watch captain.” He pointed at one of the other two keeps rising from the skyline. “He may be able to rouse the city where His Oddness would not.” The soldier ran off into the twist of streets, purposeful in his steps.
Boris inspected the keep to which the man had pointed. A shadow hung over his features and his eyes looked carved of glacial ice. Magus Joslyn Britt, chiseled from the same stuff, stood close beside his friend.
Khalem Shadar kneed his Hadonese stepper toward the distant keep. “Well, I guess this watch captain is our only choice. We should be on our way to see him.”
The watch keep stood shorter than the mayor’s. It had no surrounding wall, and no granaries to protect. Armored guards stood on the roof with bows. Jaerd caressed Shar’leen’s handle, watching the men walk about on top of the keep. He pulled his horse closer in to Dawne’s.
Lord Gael clucked his tongue. “The watch captain of Kirath is chosen by killing his predecessor in a duel…not something conducive to wise leadership.”
Jaerd scanned their surroundings as Boris dismounted and walked up to the gate. The earl banged a heavy fist against it, even though the watchmen above had certainly noticed their approach.
A small window opened. “’Ere now. What’s all this, then?”
Curling his cloak about his arms, Boris gave the man behind the grate a black stare. “I am Earl Boris Mourne of Gannon. I come to see if any man in this city cares for the fact that Highspur has been crushed, and a horde of orcs sweeps down upon you.”
The voice broke. “What?”
Storming up behind Boris, Magus Britt smacked the stone with his staff. “Where is your captain, man?”
“He’s in here.”
Boris’ jaw did not move when he said, “Have him come to the door.”
The window slammed shut, and the party waited. Magus Britt ground his staff into the steps. Earl Boris looked ready to chew through the door.
At last, the front gate opened. A lean man, pale of face and hair, emerged. His gaze sliced into everyone in the party. He carried a rapier which looked as if it had seen plenty of use.
He looks human, but his ears have a bit of a point. And those cobalt eyes…
“I am Captain Edric Mandibor.” The man adjusted his grip on the rapier. “How may I help you gentlemen?”
Boris seemed too exhausted to be angry. “You are the last man in the city I will tell this. If Kirath is only populated by fools, then a fool’s death you all shall have.” The captain bristled, but Earl Boris forged ahead. “Your mayor will not listen, and his guards appear to be just as moronic as he. They will not take our warning.” Boris examined the captain. “You seem made of sterner stuff, though if wiser I cannot yet tell.”
Captain Mandibor hefted his rapier. “I would doubt that insult will give your words any heavier weight with me. I care not one whit for foreign lords, even one who’s been in tavern tales.” He flipped his cloak over one shoulder to reveal dusky mail and thick leather. “I got my job over a year ago, and no man has challenged me since.”
Placing a calming hand on Boris’ shoulder to ease the earl’s tension, Gael took a step forward. “Please, friend, we do not seek to insult you in our haste. The truth is simple. Thousands of orcs swarm toward Kirath from fallen Highspur. For almost half a century that fortress has been my home, and now it burns under the fires of the Northlands.” He pointed with his head toward the city walls, white hair waving about his ears. “The same may well come down on your own home. If you wish to save your people you must gather them and flee toward Novon.”
Standing there, his gloved hand working the grip of his sword, the captain examined each of the group, his study barely pausing on Jaerd. “A group such as yours could only come from Highspur, and you have no reason to lie. If the fortress has fallen then there is nothing to protect us from the Northlands.” He looked to the man who had stood close to his shoulder since they came out of the keep. “Call in the militia. We will need to roust the peasants and guard their flank while they move.”
Jaerd sighed. He heard similar reactions from his companions.
Boris bowed his head. “Wisely chosen, Captain.” He glanced at Joslyn Britt and Lord Gael, who both nodded. “We will do all we can to aid you in guarding your people.”
Watching his men scramble around him, Captain Edric Mandibor folded his arms. “If you tell true, we will need all the help we can get.”