Cold From The North, page 26
part #1 of The Onyxborn Chronicles Series
The outer walls of the city were massive and were protectively wrapped around a mount encircled by a moat. The only visible crossing over the ring of water was a stone bridge which led to a huge gate. Dotted evenly around the top of the walls were huge battlements, the bricks of which were complexly twisted to look like flames of stone.
From his elevated position, he could see the roofs of buildings touching the same heights as the huge stone walls. In the middle of the outer walls sprung another walled circle with more of the flame-like battlements. Roofs and rising spires came up to the brim of the walls. In the centre of this district was a gargantuan squared tower with more fortified ramparts which looked more like diamonds than flames.
From the squared stronghold rose a huge spiralling keep surrounded by steeples. It towered for what looked like leagues into the air, and despite its obvious intricacy, it still appeared formidable. The top of the keep was a flattened-out battlement that would give a view for miles in all directions. Ogulf had never seen anything like Delfmarc. Melcun emerged from the tree line and stood by Ogulf’s side, squinting at the incredible citadel.
‘Have you ever seen anything like this?’ Ogulf asked, rooted to the spot with wonder.
‘Never. This is like something out of the old stories Wildar used to tell us. Remember when he told us of the clouds of Eskaine?’
Ogulf laughed lightly. His friend was right, this was like something Wildar spoke of in his fables. When he was full of wine, he had loved to talk about the gods and where they came from. Ogulf wondered if even the gods lived in a palace as amazing as this.
‘This place certainly looks like it was carved by something otherworldly.’ Ogulf’s eyes were training up and down the city in front of him. ‘You could fit over a hundred Keltbrans in there. I couldn’t imagine living in a place like that.’
‘It looks like an ant hill,’ Melcun said.
Vellan had covered a few hundred yards in the time Ogulf and Melcun had been staring at the wondrous city. They paced fast to close the gap on the Esselonian Knight. Their eyes were still wide and mouths were still agape as they approached Delfmarc.
When they reached the bridge to the city, Vellan told them he wished to stop at the store of a friend on their way to the Keep in the Inner Circle. Vellan had told the pair that things were almost exactly how he left them, from the outside at least, which meant that there was no immediate sign of an attack from the Southerners.
The gate they headed to was smaller than the one Ogulf had seen from the hill – much smaller. He couldn’t help but think it was more than impractical given the sheer size of the city it protected. He stared in bewilderment as they crossed the stone overpass.
‘You look dumbfounded, Ogulf. You have truly never seen anything like this?’ Vellan said as they approached the bolstered door. There was a small crowd waiting to gain entry. Upon closer inspection, Ogulf noticed just how reinforced the smaller door was; it looked like thick oak braced with solid steel near the edges, and well-set hinges were moulded deep into the wall around it. To the left of the door was a smaller opening manned by two guards.
‘I haven’t. Broadheim is not like this, even in our citadels. Until I saw this, I thought Jargmire was the biggest city in all the world. Before the invaders came, it was impressive, but it was never anything like this.’
They moved closer to the door, which was heavily guarded; ten men stood near the entrance with spears in their hands or fingers brushing the hilts of their swords. Ogulf and Melcun followed Vellan through the crowd until the guards stiffened as he tried to push past them, perhaps forgetting that he wasn’t in his usual armour and that he had a bloodied sword on his belt.
The guard at the front was a brawny type and he stood forward to stop Vellan with a hand pushed towards the knight’s chest. ‘Where in the depths do you think you’re going?’
‘Stand down. My name is Vellan Strunheir, Captain of the Guard of the Princess.’
‘Oh, is that right? Well, in that case, I’m Eryc himself. Piss off, peasant.’ The soldier gave Vellan a heavy shove.
In a natural movement, Ogulf reached back for his axe, but before his hand got to it, Vellan motioned towards him to hold. The guards opposite them looked ready as they closed their fists around their spears and closed the gap on the group. They would be confident that they could subdue three travellers if they had to.
Suddenly, one of the men behind moved closer to the main guard and whispered something in his ear. The strapping man’s initially confused look turned to dread; Ogulf noticed a bead of sweat run down the man’s face. His eyes danced left to right as if looking for a solution. He broke to a firm attention, arms by his side, and his men did the same.
‘Incredibly sorry, sir,’ the man said, eyes towards the sky as more lines of sweat coursed down his cheeks. Ogulf wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw a puddle of piss forming at the man’s feet.
Vellan walked to the man. He could be no more than an inch from him when he looked him up and down. Then he moved past him and the rest of the guard, beckoning Ogulf and Melcun to follow.
‘I thought he deserved at least a slap for that, Vellan,’ Melcun said.
‘He was being vigilant. Can’t ask for much more, can you?’ Vellan said confidently. ‘Plus, now his loyalty will be tenfold. I haven’t scolded or embarrassed him, he owes me, and I expect him to pay me handsomely when the Southerners get here.’
‘How is this practical for a city this size?’ Ogulf said, gesturing towards the door.
Vellan laughed and led the way into the tunnel that would transport them into the citadel. It was made of grey stone and lit by flaming torches secured in brackets on the walls. ‘This is the Old Gate. When Delfmarc was first established, it was the only way for people to get in and out of the city. It used to be enough to service Delfmarc before the Mardrens ordered the expansion of the city a hundred years ago. This is more suited for small parties and quiet entrances now, while practicality is sought at the north entrance at Hayter’s Gate.’ At the other end of the passageway, two guards holding crossed spears blocked their path. A shout came from behind the trio and the spears were withdrawn, allowing them to pass through into a wide street bustling with people on the other side.
‘Both of you, stay close.’ Vellan stopped and turned as the crowd seemed to flow around him. The whole place was a wall of noise coming from street stalls and passers-by. Vellan began to weave through the crowd and Ogulf and Melcun had to duck and dive and stick their elbows out to make sure they didn’t lose him in the crush. The buildings towered over them and the streets were growing narrower. A sweet smell filled the air – it was a mix of meats, fruit, wine, and some kind of incense. Ogulf felt his eyes and mind wandering as he tried to keep up with Vellan. ‘Ogulf! Come.’
Ogulf pushed through a few bodies to make it into side street which was much calmer than the main road. ‘Why is everyone so manic out there, Vellan?’
‘Wartime is upon us. Everyone is looking for food and resources. This is only a slight frenzy compared to what it looks like sometimes,’ Vellan said in a noticeably calm manner. ‘Still, we are a few more scares away from a riot. We are heading to Rozmeer’s bookstore, near the inner walls. I understand the scenery is somewhat mesmerising, but please keep your eyes on me,’ Vellan said with a smile, prompting a nod from Ogulf.
By the time they reached the border of the Inner Circle, Ogulf was starting to feel tired. He was used to being physically active, but the incredible stimulation of this place and the journey from Vargholme was beginning to drain him. Nothing he had ever experienced had come close to what he had been through in the last two weeks.
The streets near the Inner Circle were much calmer than those closer to the entrance. The group came to a narrow passageway. A handful of carts lined the road leading to a dead end marked by a gleaming window. A sign above it read, ‘Rozmeer’s Goods’. Vellan bounded towards it and pushed straight through the door with Ogulf and Melcun in tow.
When they got through the door, they found the storekeeper. He was a short man who barely stood taller than the counter in front of him. The top of his head was bald, and around his ears, there was a perfectly groomed border of hair. His beard was thick but also very well combed. His eyes were a vibrant green and were chock-full of positivity, clearly visible through the lenses of his half-moon glasses. Ogulf couldn’t see his whole outfit, but from what he could tell, the man’s clothes were flamboyant and incredibly well designed.
‘Vellan, my old friend, how are you?’ the man said with a genuine warmth in his tone.
‘Sparrin.’ Vellan moved to greet the man with a handshake. The storekeeper reciprocated but had to extend to the tips of his toes to meet Vellan’s hand over the counter. ‘I’ve been better, but I am well. I come in need of a favour. My companion here–’ He motioned towards Melcun. ‘–Is in need of a book. The kind of book I have a feeling I would only find here.’
‘Must be a serious book then,’ Sparrin said, moving round from behind the counter and looking Melcun up and down. ‘No book dealers like me where you are from, my good man?’ he said, trying and failing to hide the judgemental look in his eyes as he took Melcun and Ogulf in.
‘Nothing quite like this,’ Melcun said, watching the small man skirt around him.
The wares in the store were interesting to say the least. Ogulf noticed some of the books were locked inside glass cabinets, and many of the ones on the shelves had wraps and padlocks on the front.
Sparrin scurried off past a number of high bookshelves, then he darted to the front door, locked the latch, and appeared back beside them in a showcase of speed that Ogulf never would have thought possible for such a small man.
‘Just us,’ Sparrin said. ‘Vellan, I have warned you about visits like this. They do me no good. One of these days, someone will see you come in and notice the door locked, then questions will be asked, and answers will be demanded.’
‘Don’t worry, Sparrin. This is business on behalf of the princess.’
‘Ah, so for the great of the realm I suppose,’ the storekeeper said sarcastically, drawing a smirk from Vellan.
‘I need you to help me. We have a new mage over here, one struggling to understand the comings and goings of good and bad magic. You’ve heard of dark magicians being marked or different, even if they don’t realise it themselves?’ Vellan asked.
‘Only in the tales of dark sorcerers. Gibberish to some. Truth to others. That kind of accusation commands many pages in many books,’ Sparrin replied. ‘Mainly linked to the followers of Loken and those who commit their lives to his teachings and his prophecy.’
‘I was hoping you would have one of these books that will help my friend here understand Loken and this prophecy; he’s interested in it.’
‘As it happens, I do,’ Sparrin said, moving closer to a locked chest. He drew a key holder from his pocket, which must have had fifty keys attached to it. The small man flicked through them, shaking his head as he searched for the right one.
Vellan moved closer to Ogulf and Melcun. He began to whisper. ‘You won’t like what a priest tells you about this kind of thing, their view is lopsided. And an audience with a Thinker would be more difficult to arrange than an audience with a princess at the moment. So, consider this a beginning to your education, though don’t take it personally – I don’t believe what the old crone said.’ He glanced at Sparrin who was still fingering through the keys. ‘Two guards you saved me from means two debts are owed. So, consider this payment of the first.’
With a whoop of delight, Sparrin held a key aloft, looking at it as he turned it in the light. He busied himself with unlocking the huge trunk, which almost came up to his waist. He rummaged for a few seconds before pulling out a thick book with what looked like vines wrapped around its cover.
‘The Paladins of the Blackened Gem,’ he said, peering down at the book through his lenses, which were perched on the bridge of his nose. ‘Here it is.’ He turned around to face the others. ‘A dark read, even when compared to the other volumes that grace my walls. The kind of title that will give you terrors in your dreams.’
‘It focuses on the Onyxborn prophecy?’ Vellan asked, reaching for the book.
Sparrin moved it from his grasp. ‘Oh yes, among other things considered to sit within the darker realm of the powers bestowed by the gods. This is a most detailed account of the prophecy, its origins, and accounts of the ones who sought to fulfil it. I believe it to be one of three books of its kind in existence. Only one other is accounted for at the Tome Chamber at the Tawrawth in the Shingal. The other, I can only assume is lost.’
‘How did you come to have such a book?’ Melcun asked.
‘I have my ways. And I have my interests,’ Sparrin said. ‘I cannot part ways with a book like this without adequate payment,’ he turned and said to Vellan.
The Esselonian knight crossed his arms as the calm nature of their interaction now changed into the beginnings of a hard bargain.
‘This is the princess’ own task, Sparrin,’ Vellan said. ‘I’ll pay you good coin but don’t make a fool out of me when I’m on an errand like this. Two hundred gold is what I am permitted to offer.’
The small man scoffed and started tapping his foot. ‘You ask me not to make a fool of you and then you mock me with that offer. Five hundred gold is the lowest I’ll see it go for.’
Sparrin was driving a hard bargain and Ogulf couldn’t fathom the thought of a book being so expensive. Five hundred gold was the type of coin that the Keltbran paid for a good lot of grain for a whole winter. Yet here in Esselonia, the same price was worthy of just one book.
‘Three hundred,’ Vellan answered.
‘Four,’ Sparrin replied.
‘Three hundred and fifty and not a coin more,’ Vellan said, opening his stance.
‘Fine,’ Sparrin said with a sigh. ‘But only because I like you, Vellan you brazen sod. Let me assume since your garments are somewhat different to your usual attire that you do not have the gold on your person?’ Sparrin was smiling now.
‘You assume correctly. A hunting trip, and I couldn’t wear my armour for the wolves, could I?’ Vellan said.
Sparrin gave him a smiling nod, eyes bursting with disbelief. ‘Very well. I will await the payment from the tower. More prompt than last time, if you will?’
‘By noon tomorrow, you have my word,’ Vellan said.
The men exchanged goodbyes and left the store. Vellan instructed Melcun to take great care of the book. The price he managed to haggle for was far less than it was worth – not to mention, a book like that would be valuable in the hands of someone with ill intentions, so he advised against making a show of having it.
Chapter 30
Vellan led Ogulf and Melcun to the gates of the Inner Circle of Delfmarc. The atmosphere here was different, and it was quieter, both in terms of audible noise and the number of people in the streets.
The citizens made their way through the streets here in a much calmer manner. No one seemed to be buying lots of anything in particular, and while some seemed to gravitate the more lavish stalls, the types that sell silk garments or ornaments or the like, the queues at the food stalls seemed normal. This was a world apart from the Outer Circle.
The journey to the Centre Circle holdfast was quick from here. Ogulf found it was easier to keep up with Vellan, especially when he concentrated on copying the man’s steps as he they manoeuvred through the streets.
They approached the heavily fortified hold, which looked uninviting. It was brutally square and intimidating with arrow slits dotted around the walls. The only way in or out appeared to be a huge, heavy gate, which was currently raised. What seemed like a whole battalion of guards were stationed around the gate. One of the men caught Ogulf’s eye as he approached the group.
‘Vellan, you bastard, where have you been?’ The man’s excitement alerted the guards around him and many turned and smiled. ‘And what in the name of the gods are you wearing?’
‘Rigin, my brother. A hunt gone wrong,’ he said, embracing the man. ‘Is the princess well?’
‘She’s been troubled since you didn’t return, but I’m sure she will be much happier once she knows you are unharmed. I think General Cedryk had planned to send a full unit to look for you if you had not returned in the next few days, so as usual, your timing is impeccable. I am not sure we could have spared the men if I’m honest,’ the man said, lips pursed. ‘Hunt unsuccessful then?’
‘In more ways than one,’ Vellan said. He then turned to Ogulf and then Melcun. ‘These men rescued me. That militia got me and my hunting party, and they were stupid enough to think they were going to sell me to the Red Isles.’
‘Oh, well, at least you would’ve got a nice tan out there,’ Rigin said, extending handshakes to Ogulf and Melcun. ‘And you decided to file them into your ranks, did you?’
‘Not quite. Fate seemed to bind us as they were already on their way here with a message for the princess when they managed to free me,’ Vellan said, prompting a cautious look from his friend. ‘Don’t worry, I trust them, and I will escort them to see her myself.’
‘Very well,’ the man said, though he was clearly still wary. ‘I’ll just ask that they go in unarmed.’
Vellan looked at his companions. ‘Rigin, they are with me. You can keep your arms.’ Ogulf nodded. He hadn’t come this far to let a quarrel over him carrying a weapon be the thing that stopped him from meeting with Feda – especially not when he was supposed to be taking the axe to her.
‘That’s fine,’ Rigin said to confirm. ‘Incredible axe you have here,’ he added, inspecting the weapon. ‘Shingally steel I will bet.’
‘Most likely. We hail from Broadheim so Shingally wares are easy to come by,’ Ogulf said.
