The Epic of Garthel- Parts I-III, page 3
part #1 of The Epic of Garthel Series
Yes, come heaven or hell I’ll be ready, he thought, and traveled down the road.
The sky started to darken. He looked up at the sun and saw a wonder. The sister planet, Bion, was stretching across the sun. It was in the middle of the day and the sky darkened in minutes as the planet moved from corner to corner of the sun.
It was an eclipse, they happened about once a month in most parts of the world and it was commonly considered a good omen. He normally didn’t buy into the superstition, although he did think that it was a strange coincidence that it happened as he was leaving the town.
Arovehar smiled as the darkness surrounded him and his grin grew all the more when the sun started to shine anew. Yes, this is the life for me, he knew, and continued down the western road.
III
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Life on the Northern Road
In the days that followed, Arovehar traveled many miles to the west. He passed by farms and small towns and old ruins and he would sleep along the side of the road and would let the sounds of nature sing him to sleep. Occasionally he would stop at an inn and play songs in exchange for drinks and a hot meal. The traveling was easy, the road was mostly flat grasslands or gentle hills, and there was plenty of water to be found in small streams and rivers.
He sometimes passed by other travelers or traders who looked to be headed towards Tremblingwater, or perhaps Seaport. But they paid Arovehar little mind and he, in return, ignored them.
The wildlife was nothing too unusual. He saw small deer, giant leaf-eaters, rabbits and birds of prey. Sometimes in the night he would awaken to the howling of wolves, but they never went near him. One day in particular he did see a strange sight. A stampede of wild shaggy horses went charging over the road in front of him. He had nearly gotten caught in their quake and had to dive to the side. Then, from a safe distance, he watched as they ran across the green grassland.
One day he came to a smaller road that peeled off to the north. On little more than a whim, he took it. He had always wanted to see the Plyith Mountains up north. They were said to be so high that they stretched into and past the clouds in the sky. That has to be a sight to behold.
On the northern road he trudged for many miles and days. The weather mostly stayed fair with some mild spring rain, but no storms. Gradually the temperature got cooler and soon he found himself in the far north of Terthland.
It was a harsh land.
There were only sparse coniferous trees and boulders in the endless tundra. The wind was unforgiving, and Arovehar’s tent offered very little protection in the long cold nights. But as he gazed up at the night sky and witnessed a spectacular falling star, he knew in his heart that this was what he was meant to do—adventure. This was his life calling—this boundless manifestation of infinite possibilities. He was, for perhaps the first time in his life, truly content.
After several days and nights, Arovehar peered into the distance and at last saw the Plyith Mountains, vaguely obscured by scattered clouds and fog. They were massive and spectacular mountains, some stretching well into the clouds overhead. It was breathtaking, and he wished to travel into their depths—they taunted him from on high, daring him to conquer their peeks.
But the weather had taken a turn for the worse, spring snow set in and the temperature plummeted. Regrettably, he realized that he didn’t have the cold weather gear necessary to combat the freezing conditions.
So, he began to set his sights south-west, heading to the city of Farth. It was said to be a small and friendly woodworking town built beside the Plyith River, and it sounded like a nice, quiet place to travel to as he made new plans. Despite his efforts to save the little money he had, his pockets were gradually running thin as he spent his money on food and new supplies, and he knew that no matter how much he wished, he couldn’t keep doing the same thing.
Somehow, he needed a way to make money.
So in the days that followed, he traveled south along the west side of Plyith River, following a small road that got very little foot traffic. The temperatures became fair and only the occasional friendly cloud bothered to float through the sky. The river by the road was narrow enough to see the bank on the other side, and it was filled with surprisingly fast-moving water that poured down from the northern mountains. The beginning of spring marked a liveliness in the pine forest that complemented the river and he saw many frisky animals as a result. There were elk and small critters and birds a plenty. He was even lucky enough to shoot some with his cheap short-bow. He dried out the meat and enjoyed a comfortable amount of trail food in his long treks across the country.
These days continued to be the most enjoyable Arovehar had ever experienced. But despite his happiness, he knew that it couldn’t last. Such simple and pure peace was forbidden in the world, ever since the dwarves first discovered the secrets of fire—and all the wonderful and terrible things it brought.
Namely, civilization.
He heard some men talking off in the distance, and it rudely interrupted his philosophical ponderings. They were bellowing in loud, obnoxious voices with untamed confidence.
Arovehar quickly finished filling his water skins and decided to hide in some bushes as the men passed him by. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but something about how they were talking made him feel the need to be cautious.
These people… They aren’t commoners. They’re too bold… their tones… almost predatory… as if they’re looking for trouble.
The men’s voices grew louder and Arovehar begun to make out words. “Aye lads, I’ve always said that life’s not about what you know, it’s about who you know, and this job is proof of it!”
“I’ll say! Ten Thorilin silver each up-front and thirty more upon delivery! It doesn’t get much better than that! Even if we can’t find the amulet, this job more than pays for itself!”
“Aye lads! What did I tell you? Dryden Urkon is a good man to know! Didn’t I always say that someday he would do great things?!”
“That you did, and right you were! Oh, the taverns and wenches better look out when I’m done with this scavenger hunt!”
At the mention of silver and payment, Arovehar abandoned all sense of caution. He was in no position to be picky about jobs, and if they had a good connection to an employer, he had to at least consider the opportunity. So he took a breath, and casually stepped out from his hiding place.
He brushed off his coat and looked at the approaching vagabonds. There were four of them, all dressed in different attire. The one that appeared to be the leader (or at least the loudest) was tall, wearing a boiled leather chest guard and a long sword at his side. In his mouth there was a big cigar cascading smoke.
The man closest to him looked to be his kin, with less height and more shrewd muscle and girth. At his other side was a dark-skinned shaggy man equipped with a saber, whom Arovehar guessed was from across the Sanarayen ocean. The last man had the look of a true mercenary. He bore a long two-handed sword and wore chain mail scattered in chinks and scars from decades of use. They were an unimpressive bunch in the civilized world, being too rowdy to be in an army and too mismatched to be a lords personal guard, yet they weren’t the kind of people you would want to pick a fight with in the wilderness.
As they approached, the leader gave Arovehar a curious look and pointed at him. “Oh, what’s this here? A lonesome traveler! Ho lads! What shall we do here?”
“Hail!” Arovehar called back to the man with an equally confident voice. “I am Arovehar, how do you do? Has the southern road treated you well?”
“Oh, we should rob him I reckon, captain.” The man beside the leader said, taking no notice of Arovehar’s words. “Only a fool would pass up such easy coin in these times.”
“Yeah… but come to think of it, he don’t look like he’d have much coin on him.”
“Nah,” agreed the fourth man, “See that instrument on his back, I reckon he’s just a traveling musician.”
“Ah, you’d be surprised Brue, them musicians can make some good coin if they know the right places to play.”
Arovehar’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t like what was playing out before him. I should have never stepped out of the bushes… He cursed his stupidity, and desperately developed a plan.
“I swear the large-nosed man is correct.” He began, trying to gain their attention. If they’ll just listen to me, perhaps I can convince them I’d be more trouble than I’m worth.
“I barely have a coin to my name, but I do have a sharp sword at my side, and I strongly suggest you don’t make me use it.” He said darkly, with one hand ready to draw his blade.
“Oh, look here! We’ve got a fighter!” The leader said and laughed. “He thinks he’d be trouble! He wouldn’t be much trouble, would he lads?!” The leader continued, beckoning his men to close in around him.
“Nah, no trouble at all.” The second man agreed and advanced. Arovehar didn’t know if they were planning on simply taking his coin, or taking his coin and killing him too, regardless, he knew that he had to take action. He put his back to a large pine tree by the road and unsheathed his sword.
“Come now men, does this really have to come down to violence? You might find I’m more trouble than you want.” He said and adopted a fighting stance as he leveled his sword at the leader’s eyes. It was another bluff. He knew he had little hope of taking on four well-armed men, but maybe I can get a good strike off on one of them… All I’ve got to do is scare them. Surely they won’t risk their life just for a few silvers…
“Now, now, bard, I’d put that thing away, you’ll only get yourself hurt.” The leader said with a mild chuckle.
“Put my sword away? Don’t count on it. As long as I still draw breath I’ll not be mugged like a witless merchant.”
The leader raised an eyebrow and frowned. “That a fact? Well now, no one needs to walk away from this dead. I’ve got a proposition for you see, a duel between you and I: If you win—you can go free, if I win we get any valuables you have. See? I’m a reasonable man. It’s a simple test of skill—that’s all. We need only fight to first blood. Do we have a deal?”
Actually that does sound rather reasonable, for a bandit. Arovehar looked up and down Levid and sized him up for a fight. He was taller than Arove, so he had the advantage of length, and he looked to be in his mid-fifties. His beard was no more than some shaggy multicolored scruff, and the hair on his head was equally short. A simple long sword with a dark leather handle and oval pommel was at his side. He wore a hard leather tunic, and judging by some scars, Arovehar guessed that he was fairly experienced in combat. All things considered, the odds were not favorable, but they were better than facing all four men at once, and certainly better than releasing his weapon and hoping they were generous. He cursed and realized he had no reasonable choice but to accept.
“It seems you leave me little choice,” Arovehar muttered. “I accept your challenge.”
The bandit’s eyes gleamed with delight. “You heard him men! He accepts! Form a triangle now! We’ll do this right proper!” The three men all grinned laughing to each other and stood around Arovehar and Levid. Arovehar saw them exchange bets on who would be the victor—only the simple-looking man put money on Arovehar. Levid drew his long sword and did a half-bow. “Come now bard, tell us your name before we fight! If luck should fail me and I die I would like to know who I can blame.”
“I am Arovehar from faraway, a simple fatherless bard, as you have correctly guessed.”
“Well, Arovehar, I am Levid, leader of these men and mercenary to the true lord of these lands. I should think that you’re eager to get on with this?” Arovehar nodded. “Then come and meet your fate,” Levid beckoned.
Arovehar took a cautious step forward with his sword pointed towards Levid’s belly and his eyes focused on Levid’s gaze. They circled around each other once, neither wanting to make the first move.
But then everything happened too quickly. Levid made a motioning signal with his hand and a man from behind took out his sword and hit Arovehar hard on the head with his pommel. The force was such that Arovehar fell to his knees and his eyes blurred so that he couldn’t tell what was happening. One man kicked the sword out of his hand and another wrestled him down to the ground. Arovehar struggled briefly but a kick to the head courtesy of Levid and his struggles stopped.
What a fool I was, Arovehar realized. He had let himself be willingly surrounded by enemies, and naturally they had taken advantage of his folly. But then again, it wasn’t as though there were a multitude of options at the time. Arovehar cursed to himself and whatever impulse told him to step out of the bush in the first place.
“Ah, bless you fool!” Levid said over roaring laughter, “Why would a man such as myself risk a duel with you! Ah, chivalry is not a fool’s friend! Arvish! My dark friend! Search him for coin!” The dark-skinned man opened Arovehar’s pouches and bags, and then tossed his leader the purse containing all of Arovehar’s coin.
Arovehar attempted to break free of the large man’s grip once again, but his captor simply grunted and pressed his face harder to the ground. “Boris, my brother, you can release the musician. We’ve got what we wanted.” Boris got off of Arovehar and he uneasily rose to his feet. They hadn’t hurt him too bad. His hand was badly bruised, his head ached and possibly a rib was broken, but overall, it could have been worse.
“See there? You should have just handed over your coin to begin with. It would have worked out much better for you,” Levid said with a dark smile as he made a tisking sound. “But you had to pull out your sword, didn’t you? Felt like you had to defend your honor,” Levid rolled his eyes in disgust and looked around until he spotted Arovehar’s sword. “Arvish! Throw the musician’s cheap sword into the river so that he may know next time not to be such a fool.” Arvish did as he was told and Arovehar watched regretfully as his weapon plunged into the fast-moving river.
“But that’s not quite lesson enough, now is it lads?” Levid asked no one in particular. “Nah, I would say he needs to learn his place.”
He pulled Arovehar up by the scruff of his shirt and punched him in the face.
It was a hard, solid punch. The kind of punch that makes a man rethink all the decisions he’s made in his life to put him in such a circumstance. Being a man that had taken a few hits to the head, Arovehar could say with certainty that Levid knew how to throw his force into it.
He instantly collapsed to the ground. The men picked him up by both ends and tossed his limp body off to the side of the road, then they casually walked off, continuing their merriment and laughter without a second thought.
Arovehar listened as their voices faded in the distance—his brain wasn’t moving fast enough to catch any more words. For a long time, he didn’t move a muscle. He was dazed, overwhelmed, bloody, and deeply regretting his own stupidity.
After perhaps an hour, coherent thoughts finally began to form. Fool, fool, fool, were his first thoughts. But then he realized that he was still alive, and that in itself was something to appreciate. He tried to recall what foolishness made him leave the safety of the bushes in the first place. They had been talking about something… something to do with a job that had interested Arovehar. Ten Thorilian silver a person up-front, and something about finding an artifact, he recalled. They said that a man called Dryden gave them their job. Arovehar wondered where Dryden would be. Perhaps this man was in need of more hired hands. Arovehar hoped so. Gods know I need the coin now.
He stood on his feet ignoring all aches and pains. He had a plan. Vengeance, anger and greed were all on his mind. Arovehar picked up what was left of his supplies and then started a meaningful march off in the direction where the mercenaries had come from. It was time to find this ‘Dryden’ for himself, and make things even.
No one mugs me and gets to tell the tale. He swore. They’ll learn to regret what they’ve done.
IV
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The Tower of the Raven
Arovehar walked for a long time until he saw a road branching off up onto a solitary plateau. He followed that path, for no other reason than instinct told him that it was the right way to go. Up he walked through the forest and onto the plateau until he at last saw it: A large stone tower.
It was tall and majestic in the moons’ light with a banner down its front and windows flickering from indoor candlelight. Arovehar presumed it to be the residence of Dryden Urkon—who the mercenaries had said was their employer.
This is where I’ll put the first part of my plan into motion.
Arovehar approached the tower’s large double doors and knocked a heavy brass knocker three times. After meeting no response, he knocked again, and the door opened revealing a spacious arched room and a meek man in the garb of a servant.
“What is your purpose here?” The servant asked.
“I’m here on business for Dryden, I would like to speak with him,” Arovehar answered, with hope that this was indeed Dryden’s residence.
“Please, come in.” The servant beckoned. Arovehar smiled pleasantly. Looks like I guessed right.
Once he was inside, the servant hurried off barely pausing to say, “I’ll go fetch my lord.”
He looked around. The inside of the tower was a striking piece of architecture, and he couldn’t help but gawk in awe as he waited. It was open and tall, and the floor was made of a dark marble. There looked to be several large rooms off to the side and at the end of the hallway. Arovehar saw a wizardly spiral staircase that stretched all the way to the tower top. After no more than a few minutes, the servant walked back into the main hallway along with a tall man cloaked in black robes that hinted at a powerful figure.
“Greetings,” he said, “I am Lord Raven. I’m most sorry to say that Dryden left earlier today. Perhaps I can help you instead?” The lord offered. He seemed to be genuine in his courtesy and respect; all the same Arovehar had to debate whether or not to follow through with his plan. In his brief experience with the nobles in his hometown, it wasn’t wise to speak with them any longer than absolutely necessary, lest you risk bringing unwanted attention upon yourself. I’m not in a very presentable state for a lord either, he realized. His bruised face and travel-worn clothes would be enough of a tell for most lords to dismiss him based off of appearance alone.
