The message had reached my room at the local bar were I was employed as a Bouncer sometime while I was out tending to some personal business. It was a short message, bidding me meet with King Alerion's messenger at a certain place known to both of us at mid day. That raised an eyebrow. I had never been so summoned by a ruler before. I was not much of a "subject" to tell the truth. I ended up in Grand City, broke, and had gotten a job until I could afford to keep traveling. Some part of me wondered how it was this King even knew of me. It's not as though I am famous here. In fact, except for the hair I'm pretty unnoticeable. And Grand City was the biggest city I'd been in so far! It was the only one to have a King at all, though from what I'd gathered he was King of the World, literally. Quite the empire...
I had no idea what this could be about, so I went to the scheduled meeting, but I went armed. Untrusting? Who me? Wouldn't be the first time I got suckered, and I have the scars to prove it too. The day was hot, and unseasonably so. I hadn't really gotten used to that. Say what you like about leather armor, nothing about it is sweat-proof. While I was busy melting away in my gear I took the chance to look over the city I'd been in for a little over two months.
The spires and stonework were always the first things I noticed. Beautiful construction, no two ways about it, but completely impractical. I was surprised that the city that contained the worlds only King should be so obviously unfortified. I mean yes, it had walls, but inside the walls? Some siege weapons and a few good fires and there'd be devastation and panic! Not that I'd ever mention that to anyone. I wasn't about to give evil people ideas, nor did I intend to frighten random people. Besides, if the King himself didn't know about the dangers then he wasn't terribly good at his job. Either way, it wasn't mine to correct.
The dust in the streets was starting to become choking this part of the day. Early morning was fading into afternoon and traffic had been moving steadily. There was a cart parked up ahead. Some sorry merchant had lost an axle in a pothole and was jamming up the entire street. I stopped and helped the man lever up the one side so it could be guided into a side street. A quick thanks and back to walking I went.
The people here seemed happy. Everyone seemed to have work to do. There were those that didn't, but they seemed to prefer it that way. There were beggars and street people as there were everywhere, but they were in much better shape. Whether they chose the life or not it seemed they were at least fed and clothed. I liked to think that was the King's idea. Social change is hard to come by, and a lot of folks working hard for a living might take umbrage to seeing lazy beggars given handouts. Truly, this was a sign of a community that cared, both in the care of the people and in the general lack of outrage over same.
The meeting place approached and a man in red and gold livery stepped out of the shade and into the street. Another man, much rougher, stepped out with him. I didn't like the looks of him very much. He was sharp featured, and dressed for long travel. His hair was dark and his beard not terribly well kept. He also had a roving eye. Not for women, but for movement. Every flash if his eye picked out targets in the street and judged them, taking only a fraction of a second. I recognized that look. I'd seen many a man assess threats before, but never in such a city as this. He was definitely a man with even less trust than I. He was also armed, which made me wary as well.
"Well met Mistress Bannefin. I am Cornwallis, servant to King Alerion. The gentleman beside me is Geary Meanspeare. I have an urgent assignment for you from the King himself."
All of this was delivered with a very calm and smooth accent. I couldn't tell where he was from, but he'd been coached in etiquette, no doubt in an effort to make him as inoffensive as possible. Unlike his counterpart, Meanspeare, whose name was so terribly appropriate to the sizing I had made of him that I nearly laughed aloud.
"Let's get on with this," Meanspeare growled. "Give the harridan the damned message already."
The messenger flinched at the uncouth language and seemed to puff up with importance.
"I will give the Lady the message as I am bid by King Alerion, and not by the order of some raggle-taggle mercenary such as yourself!"
The man growled and snatched up the messenger by his tabard and began to shake him, making threats and generally growling out all manner of ways the sniveling little sycophant could go stuff himself. While it was amusing to watch Cornwallis kick his legs ineffectually at Meanspeare I really couldn't let it continue. The tip of my halberd stopped the mercenary cold and his eyes cut to me with a mix of anger, surprise, and reassessment. Apparently he hadn't stopped to consider that the weapon and armor were for more than show.
"Do let him down, Geary, or I will have to disrupt the peace of the Kings street. We wouldn't want that."
My tone was steady and soft, but very pointed. I let him see in my face that I meant business. That kind of coldness only came from someone who has seen death dealt by their own hands. He seemed shocked to see it in my eyes. He dropped the struggling servant without a word and stepped back, now keeping his attention entirely on me.
"The message, Cornwallis. Let's have it."
I held out a hand and the shaking man handed it over. It was still sealed, the red wax bearing a crest. I hadn't ever seem the Kings Seal for myself, so I had no idea if this was it or not. Still, I couldn't just ignore the possibility. I slid open the seal and read what was a very short message in very legible script:
"Mistress Khory Bannefin,
It has come to Our attention that you are an ex-soldier and something of a mercenary for hire. I have an urgent matter which must be attended to quickly and quietly. However, the journey is not an easy one or We would have sent Our own retainers. The City is under threat and We therefore can not afford to send Our Guard. Until this matter is resolved no ship of any kind will leave Our harbor.
The man with Our messenger is Geary Meanspeare, also a mercenary of no small repute. You and he are to take a package of most fragile potions across the see and to Garis Town. Geary carries the map of the route you must follow. Since no ship can bear you We have taken the liberty of securing a small vessel which will take you to Northern Arthuran. Your way must then be over land.
I trust you will do this service for Us. Failure will mean the death of most of the populace of Garis Town. Be swift. Any delay costs lives.
In Trust,
King Alerion"
Well, damn. He had to appeal to my better nature didn't he. Do all Kings know that about me? It seems I get more than my share of these "rescue the desperate" cases. Not that I mind all that much. As much lives as I've taken I do hope that I can even the score a bit this way. Still, having not ever really explained that aloud to anyone I wonder why these things always seem to find me. I sighed in resignation. I did NOT at all relish a trip ANYWHERE with Geary, but if that was the way of it then go I must. Cornwallis was looking at me with an expectant, even worried and hopeful, expression. I sighed again.
"As the King requests. Give me the burden and I will bear it, to delivery or death."
The messenger sighed so deeply with relief that he seemed to deflate. He hastily handed over a satchel with many thanks and sped off into the street, making a beeline through the crowd straight for the palace. I presumed he was to deliver news of his success. I pitied the man, that his job was both that hard and that easy. Must be a sad life.
The satchel itself was unassuming leather with straps fastened tightly. I did not open it, but instead felt it carefully. It did indeed seem to contain something that was well padded inside. Glass, it was possible. Sniffing at the bag, which earned me a quizzical look from Geary, I could only smell wax and nothing else. The stuff inside was sealed with wax, and the outside had been weatherproofed as well. The King seemed to mean it about traveling a rough road. I looked Geary up and down.
"Do you know where this boat is supposed to be?" I asked. He nodded in response
"Then I will meet you down at the docks in half an hour. And don't you dare expect me to row by myself."
I turned to leave and heard a choked sound behind me. It almost sounded like laughter for a minute. Hell, maybe I'd impressed the guy. He couldn't be all bad. He wouldn't have survived if he was. Mercenaries generally don't live long. The survivors are usually very good, or very evil. The evil ones tend to get picked off by the rest of us. Hey, we hunt our own if the bounty is good, or if we have some small measure of Justice in our soul. That thought stopped me. I'd once been a Priestess of Justice. This world was different, and I'd long ago retired a tabard that had bound me to a god who could no longer hear me. Still, perhaps I hadn't quite left Justice behind as much as I tried to believe. I shrugged to myself. It wasn't as if the world didn't need a little more Justice. Maybe I wasn't as useless here as I thought I was.
It took me very little time to pack my belongings once I was back at the Inn. I had always been a wanderer, and my bags were never far from packed to begin with. Arguing with my employer took the longest. Try as I might I couldn't convince him that I was leaving for a good reason. I did not tell him of the King and his mission, feeling in some way that this was not to be made public knowledge. Still, in the end he let me go, with my pay minus my rent. Not much, but enough perhaps for provisions.
I made my way through the city with a purpose this time. My long strides and serious expression, combined with the halberd and armor made most folks give way. My path swung me through Cornucopia Market, where I bought travel rations and water on my way to the docks. Finding Geary once I got there was a small problem, as most of the ships had been forbidden to leave the harbor. The way was teaming with men with very little to do and nowhere to go. Likewise the socks were crowded with ships in all manner of sizes. I finally found Geary wedged into a space on the end, just beyond a small cutter that was used as a coastal post delivery vessel. He looked a bit impatient, but I didn't give him time to say a darned thing. I jumped aboard, through the ties and started to row into the harbor myself. There was a small sail affixed to the boat, but we had to get room in order to use it. Hopefully this trip across the water would be short. At least if the unnatural weather held true it wouldn't be a cold crossing, even this far north.
* * *
Arthuran was beautiful as only a northern climate could be. It was clearly arctic most of the time, though the thaw had become melt far earlier here than normal. I never liked cold myself, but still it was easy to see why some would make their home here. The great vistas were one. Tundra, as it was called, normally just flat expanses of snow had now grown soft and green, little wildflowers beginning to bloom in clusters all around.
The people here were great herders, and made the most of the warm weather. Many a family was out grazing stock, while others hastily planted the grain that would sustain their animals through the next winter. They were a warm and red-cheeked people, in colorful homespun clothes and some very funny hats. Well, funny to me. The closest to a hat I ever got was a helm, and it's really not the same thing at all. Still, here I managed to find people that were familiar to me. My village growing up had been very similar, though in a more temperate climate. There were even red-haired girls here, though not the same shade as mine. Even this was amazing for me. I had doubted I would ever see the color again except in a mirror!
Geary, whom I had befriended, finally, during the ocean crossing, laughed constantly at the look on my face. He seemed to take a great deal of amusement at my wonderment. To him this was all traveled land, and no great surprise. Of course, this was his world, and he'd been in it far longer than I had. Several times I gave him "the look" and slugged him. He took it all with a grin, and never failed to laugh at the next look of surprise.
"If you get that worked up over goat-herds then the Pass is going to be harder than I thought. Can't navigate mountains if you're hanging behind gawping all the time."
Another slug met that, but with a seriousness behind it. Did he think I was to be some sort of burden on this adventure. I had trained out of him the notion that because I was a woman I was some fragile flower. He should know better by now. I would never let such a thing as vistas of loveliness distract me when there was dangerous terrain to deal with. I told him so in no uncertain terms too. He shrugged and gave we a "we'll see" look.
And see we would.
* * *
The Erronei Pass was no small thing. Here Winter still maintained its icy grip, and the winds were not to be trifled with either. Though we had managed to secure some heavier clothing before reaching this place it was barely enough to keep us from frostbite. Nights were cold, shivering stretches of misery, the wind whipping our tents around so badly that we began sleeping in only one. Not only for the warmth but so the one who was awake could keep the thing held down while the other tried to sleep. The days were grueling struggles uphill, the wind pushing us back at every step and surprise patches of ice doing its damnedest to break our legs or send us into a slide.
Days of this continued with no sign of it stopping. After more than a week going uphill we finally managed to meet a flat point. Geary became even more serious and stoic than he usually was. Something was bothering him. He consulted his map, and looked about us again in concern.
"We finally don't have to struggle uphill anymore and you look like your mother just died. Don't tell me we're lost or I'll have to kill you."
He shook his head and motioned for silence. He pointed to the map he had, then pulled out another one that showed a more detailed view of the area we were in now. He backed out of the canyon and spoke very softly.
"The Kings map is only meant to get us to Garis Town. It isn't very detailed. This here shows the part of Arthuran that the Pass is in, and the Pass itself. You see this bit here?" He pointed to a spot roughly in the middle of the Pass, showing a straight path and then a winding one leading down into Elved.
"This part of the Pass is known to us as Demons Reach. It's one of the many reasons why this way is never well traveled, even in the best of times, which these are not. This part of the path is straight, its true, but all that means is that certain things like to live up here. You've noticed the wind doesn't blow in there. This is the only place in the entire Pass that the wind stops completely. Demons Reach is turned just right to block the wind most of the time. The creatures that live here have VERY good hearing, and they will try their damnedest to get at us before we can cross. The trip will take at least two days, and that's at a fast walk. If we survive the rest is downhill. But we have to get through here first."
None of this sounded like a good plan. I suggested we try to run it, and Geary shook his head. It wouldn't make the trip that much shorter, and the beat of our running feet would summon the demons even faster than talking would. There was no way we were getting through without being attacked. I just had to hope that he and I were enough. I knew this was why the King had hired us. I just didn't know why he sent only two. Seemed like kind of a nasty thing to do, sending two people to their inevitable death. He was either cruel, or exceedingly more confident in my abilities than I was. Didn't matter anyway. We still had to win through Demons Reach.
So we walked, as stealthily as anyone can, armed and armored as we were, carrying packs and whatnot. We barely spoke, doing our best to signal what was needed if at all possible. All during the day I saw and heard nothing at all. The quiet was eerie after the constant wailing of wind I'd been hearing for days. Geary got more and more tense the longer we went. His eyes darted and he startled at small things, stopping in panic when a stone moved. I couldn't for the life of me believe that whatever was here was as frightening as it seemed. This man was a hardened mercenary, and yet he was behaving like a child in the dark? Something was wrong, and eventually I tried to ask him why. He wouldn't answer, eyes widening at my words and motioning me frantically for silence.
Then I heard it.
It was soft, softer than a whisper, the sound that came out of one of the cracks in the side wall. The sound of something brushing the walls as it passed. The creature came out into the open, but that didn't make it easier to see. It was all in shades of white and grey, very pale and not quite solid. It's eyes were bulbous and shining silver. Long white hair hung lankly down it's form and it appeared to be dressed in tattered rags that moved in an invisible wind. It began to move down the passage way, its head bobbing back and forth as though it was sniffing the air. Geary began to back up in large but slow steps, careful where he put his feet. I didn't see the stone behind him, nor did he in his fear. He tripped and fell. The things head whipped around and focused right on both of us. It reached clawed hands up to its mouth, which until this moment had been closed. It seemed to grab its upper and lower jaw at once and pulled. Its mouth opened with a shriek as it pulled and pulled until open mouth filled with glassy teeth took up everything from just below its nose to where its collar bones should have been.
Whatever unnatural fear had gripped Geary up until this moment seemed to break. The man roared to his feet, unshipping two short swords from the sheathes at his waist. His first strike took the things arm off at the elbow, and another shriek followed the first, this one of pain. But others of the creature were coming out of the walls as well.
My halberd started to spin. This was why I had had the weapon made. This was why I had worked so hard to master it. Soldiers rarely fought one-on-one. Always was I assaulted by groups, sometimes legions. There was definitely a group forming now, and the length of wood, bladed and weighted, waded into the fight as a whirling weapon of death. Blade sheared off limbs, sometimes cutting the creatures in half altogether. The ball end smashed heads and bodies, dropping their respective Wraiths to the ground. They didn't seem to be terribly resilient, for all the ghastliness of their appearance. And their tactics seemed to consist of "overwhelm by numbers and eat what you can." This became evident as following wraiths stopped to feast on their fallen.
"Clear the rear!" Geary was shouting over the shrieking creatures. "They won't stop coming until we're out! Go!"
Following his suggestion I turned my attention to the wraiths that had been building behind us. There were less there than where Geary was. I took this as a good sign. As I took down the ones ahead of me Geary came behind, slashing and stabbing like a wild man, but every strike seeming to hit home. There were just too many of them! One taloned thing gashed open Geary's right arm and he dropped the sword in that hand. He tried to make up for it, but one wasn't going to do where two had barely been enough. he started to falter, other wraiths getting in their blows.
"Switch!" I yelled, whirling to take Gearys position even as he took over mine. One sword could deal with the lesser numbers quite easily. As for me, I was forced to make every blow count twice, using both ends and even the middle of my weapon when need be. There came a point when it seemed like every wraith in the place surged forward at once. Claws bit into my arms as a strong hand grabbed the back of my armor and yanked me out into a maelstrom of hellish wind. Several wraiths were pulled out with me and were torn away by the howling wind. The others shrieked their defiance and disappointment, beginning the fade back into the walls as their meal left them behind. We put quite a bit of distance between us and the Demons Reach before we stopped.
Tending our wounds took little time. Despite the pain the claws seemed to deliver, the resultant marks were barely scratches. Geary informed me that not only did the Wraiths give off an unnatural aura of fear, their presence seemed to bring a grave cold along with it, deeper even than this area normally sustained. He had only been through the pass twice before in his life, and had seen friends and clients both taken by the wraiths. It had left him with a healthy fear of the place, but not the terror he had exhibited earlier. He blamed this on the fear aura, but if so, then why was I unaffected? Geary shrugged.
"Hell if I know. Maybe being from another realm makes you immune. Trust me, better for both of us that you didn't fall for it."
He didn't seem to want to talk about it anymore. He packed his empty sheathe away. He wouldn't need it until we found another town to replace the blade he had lost. He didn't seem inclined to go back for it, and I didn't suggest it, though I toyed with the idea in perverse humor. I didn't think he'd appreciate the joke, so I let it rest.
* * *
The rest of our journey seemed uneventful compared to the hazards of Erronei Pass. Weather caused us some difficulty, the rains making the swamps in northern Elved more miserable than I would have liked. We got jumped by a band of Gnolls just before we passed through Shimmer Town. The Magistrate there seemed very grateful that we managed to kill them all on our way in. Even gave us free provisions, which had been running dangerously low. We finally reached Garis Town only six weeks after we had set out from Grand City.
The potions we delivered managed to cure a Plague that had been ravishing that place for longer than we had been on the road. Sadly, it seemed to have taken mainly children. Many a grieving parent assaulted us with curses for not getting there soon enough to save their child, while their neighbors son was cured. It was painful, but Geary and I understood. Grief is a hard thing, and hard words are often said to try to soften the blows. In the end, all Garis Town could do was bury their dead and try to get on with living. But the Town was quieter now. So quiet without the sound of playing children in its streets.
Geary and I returned to Grand City eventually and parted ways. The King sent me a very nice thank you note, telling me of my great courage and the service I had done to the realm. It was the only thing I received. But you know, what was I expecting really? Nothing in the assignment had mentioned anything about rewards or parades in the street. Not even some medal of commendation. I had to laugh. Last thing I needed was another ribbon or other to have to sell when coin got tight. The King had thanked me in his own words. I had done what I could to save a desperate community.
What else could a former Priestess of Justice ask for?