Chapter 16 - Part 8

Orphan looked outside of the small window in the cell. The sky began to grow less dark in the east, and then gray, and then orange and blue as the sun budded over the horizon. Orphan never tired of that sight.

Booted feet were heard, and Thomas came awake, grabbing for his greataxe. Both he and the symbiont were bleary-eyed.

A group of Wardens of the Wood came and pushed the unlocked cell door open.

“I am Ryan,” the leader said. “Come, Oalian awaits.”

“No breakfast for the condemned?” Thomas rumbled.

“That’s up to Oalian,” Ryan said. “Let’s go.”

Orphan stepped out first, followed by Thomas. One Warden went ahead of the warforged and Ryan, while four walked behind Thomas. They went down the hall, then down the stairs, and then out the main doors of the building.

People were already awake, going about their daily business. Thomas snorted, clearing his throat as he stepped outside, and they all stopped, staring at him.

“Go about what you were doing,” Ryan ordered all of them. “Come on now, go about!”

The people looked at each other, then went back to their tasks, stopping to stare every now and then.

Ryan now took the lead, and they followed him through the town, along with four Wardens of the Wood carrying shortbows. They hurriedly left the town proper behind, and walked down a flower-lined path into the forest.

“Are all of these troops to protect us or to intimidate us?” Thomas growled at Ryan. Oprhan could tell the man was nervous.

“They’re here to prevent trouble,” Ryan said simply.

“Then they did an admirable job,” Orphan said. The warforged was trying to take in the majestic beauty of the towering trees, but the Wardens were hurrying him quickly along. Ryan did not respond.

They walked into a wide meadow circled by great boulders, moss-covered rocks bigger than wagons. There were two ways out other than the way they came. It seemed to be a waiting area. Wardens with bows and robed druids were keeping watch atop the boulders. In the clearing itself was a deep pool surrounded by a low wall of stones.

Waiting in the meadow were several groups of people. A halfling in druid’s robes was scratching the bumps on the head of a ferocious-looking great lizard with a saddle. He was talking to two of his fellows in the language of the Talenta Plains. Not far from the three halflings and the toothy lizard was an old orc woman, sheltering her eyes from the bright sunlight with a deep hood. She wore no symbol on her fraying robes, but she bore a stout cudgel that was covered with carvings of holly leaves. Near a boulder, three men wearing bright blue cloaks with the symbol of Breland were having a quiet and urgent conversation. At the deep pool, a tall woman made of water was conversing with a pair of shifter women in a language that made Orphan’s ring hum. It was something about hidden pools in the Twlight Demesne – whatever that was. Two half-elven males bearing the symbol of House Lyrandar were examining a flower that was growing between two rocks. A tall creature that had the body of a horse, but the torso, arms, and head of a human where the horse’s neck and head would be, idly played on some pipes. And finally, surrounded by a ring of Wardens, three Gatekeeper druids were being held prisoner. Orphan did not see the shifter with the battleaxe or the others from the previous evening’s fight.

Several heads turned, regarding Thomas and Orphan. The warforged was regarded with frank curiosity, but Thomas received looks of loathing, hatred, or fear. The woman made of water frowned at the half-daelkyr, made an apology to the shifter women, and then dove down into her pool. One of the halflings gripped a sling while he eyed Thomas coldly. The horse-thing stepped back with suspicion.

“Good morning,” Orphan said politely.

The orc woman moved away from the boulder, and tottered over to Orphan and Thomas. What hair on her hands and body that showed was white. The Wardens surrounding the warforged and the half-daelkyr steadied themselves, and the stormstalk whipped behind Thomas to hide.

The orc woman apparently had a green dragon’s head woven with green thread on the front of her robes. She was a Gatekeeper.

“You are Iron Orphan,” she said.

“Yes,” he told her.

“And you are Thomas,” she said to the half-daelkyr. “Born against your will, serving evil for years, then withdrawing, and now repentant, yes?”

“Yes,” Thomas croaked. He seemed to want to say more, but he could not.

“Your pardon, Mother of the Marshes,” Ryan said. “I did not know that you knew these men.”

“Heh,” she laughed, her voice old, but strong. “You mean you worry that I will attack them like those fools there. No, young man, you need not fear. Thomas will inspire many, if he follows his personal prophecy. Princes of the impure will battle the evil below. I know his heart.” The stormstalk peeked at her, then withdrew again. “And I know your heart as well, thing,” she said, in a far less friendly tone of voice. “Leaving Thomas’ neck again, or disobeying him in any way, is a death sentence for you. You live at his mercy, else my order would have destroyed you.” The stormstalk seemed to make some small noise.

“You are a Gatekeeper,” Thomas said, his voice full of wonder. “But you are kind to me.”

“And Pienna was not?” the woman said. “Orphan and Thomas, I must go soon. Will you listen?” The two of them nodded. “Forgive Delegado, he is not used to working with others. You will see him having accomplished the unexpected soon.”

Orphan considered that. “Very well,” he said. “But Delegado and I exchanged words, he may not –”

“He will,” she said. She turned and shuffled her way towards the deep pool. Standing at its edge, she smiled and the female shifters who were trying to cajole the water woman back. The elderly female orc leaned over, and her body shifted into a large trout as she flopped into the water and swam away.

“Interesting,” Orphan said.

A tree was moving. Before Orphan’s mind fully registered that, the tree proved itself to be a tall being like a tree, with a face in the bark, long arms gnarled like branches, and legs like a split trunk. Over its eyes and along its head were many smaller branches from which hung great leaves. It was huge.

“Oalian?” Thomas asked.

“No,” Ryan whispered. “A treant.”

The treant spoke in a booming voice. The words were in the forest language that Orphan knew was called Sylvan, even if he couldn’t understand it. The Wardens of the Wood that were surrounding the Gatekeeper prisoners shuffled them along, and several of the archers along the boulders followed. The treant led the prisoners to see Oalian’s justice, and they all left through one of the paths between the boulders. Minutes later the sound of their footsteps were gone even to Orphan’s ability to hear. The mood in the meadow seemed to lighten.

The water woman finally returned, speaking quickly to the shifter women before disappearing back into the water again. The shifter women then hurried out of the meadow on the third way, not the way that Orphan had come or that the prisoners had gone.

Some fifteen minutes later the treant returned, his tall body swaying. “The ambassadors from Breland will be seen now,” it said, now speaking in the common tongue. The trio in blue walked towards the treant who lead them away. Soon they were gone from sight.

“What happened to the three druids?” Orphan asked.

Ryan shrugged. “Ask Oalian yourself if you care to.”

The business with the Brelish took a half-hour, and the treant came for the horse-thing, which by then Orphan had learned was called a centaur.

“If we’re going to keep waiting I’m going to eat some breakfast,” grumbled Thomas after a long silence.

“You have rations,” Ryan said.

“I’m allowed to eat here?” Thomas asked.

Ryan turned to look at him. “Who told you that you weren’t?”

“When summoned to –” Thomas began, but then caught himself and stopped talking. Orphan suspected that the followers of the Dragon Below were made to go hungry when summoned. Thomas tore open a bag of jerky and unstoppered a wineskin.

Thomas did not spend a long time eating, despite his protestations of hunger. He seemed too nervous to eat much. In the meantime, the House Lyrandar members were chatting amiably with the halflings, and the halfling druid was making the great lizard do tricks.

There was movement down the trail that the two shifters had taken, and the remaining Warden archers up on the boulders gripped their bows and turned to watch that way.

A procession came down the trail and into the meadow. Led by two Wardens, Delegado was walking with Brogan d’Deneith, who was in full armor. They carried a bound and beaten elf between them. A half-elf in armor and a semi-clean ogre walked behind them, with another Warden of the Wood trailing. The half-elf had a hard look to his face, like he was trying to suppress something, and a scarf around his neck almost totally hid a bandage on the hollow of his throat.

“That’s Vestiol d’Phiarlan they’re holding,” one of the Wardens near Orphan said.

The group came up to Ryan, and the lead Warden saluted.

“Ryan,” Brogan said with a bow.

“General,” Ryan said carefully.

“Ryan, baby!” Delegado grinned. Feather sat on Delegado’s shoulder, preening himself.

“These must be your friends,” Brogan said to Delegado. He stuck his hand out to the warforged. “Iron Orphan, I am Brogan d’Deneith.”

“Nice to meet you,” Orphan said, shaking his hand.

“Thomas, Deneith only wishes you well,” Brogan said, extending his hand to the half-daelkyr. Thomas sneered, and did not answer. Brogan took his hand back, but for all his face showed, Thomas had just showered him with compliments. “Orphan, this is Marlal d’Deneith, my nephew and my second.” The half-elf gave the warforged a small head nod. He was definitely irritated, but only at Delegado. Orphan nodded back. “And this is Rahg, he follows the Deneith tribe now,” Brogan said, gesturing to the warforged.

“Rahg carries Blademarks banner!” Rahg said loudly.

“Rahg is honor for he carries honor,” Orphan said, recalling something that he had read once. Rahg beamed, pleased at the compliment.

“Okay, enough with the flowers and perfumes,” Delegado said. He gave the elf a shake. “This is Vestiol d’Phiarlan, he’s under the joint custody of House Tharashk and House Deneith, and he has some explaining to do to Oalian. After we’re done of course. He’d agree with me if his mouth wasn’t too swollen to talk.”

“Elf threatened General Brogan,” snarled Rahg. “Rahg teach him no.”

“Rahg is very persuasive,” Brogan said amiably.

Ryan scowled, but made no verbal objection.

“You made peace with Deneith,” Orphan noted. The whole presentation had a staged feeling to it, but that probably didn’t matter.

“We have exchanged letters complimenting one another and declaring that we have no claim against one another,” Brogan said. “We each wrote and signed multiple copies, and House Sivis is delivering them.”

“Well, that throws the betting pool off,” one of the Wardens muttered.

“Thomas, I’m sorry I didn’t consult with you,” Delegado said. “I’m too used to working alone. I’ll try not to do that again. Orphan, I’m not saying what I’m about to say twice. You were right, I was wrong. I’m sorry. Greoche is a Dragon Below cultist. She’s got her bags packed and is out on the next Orien caravan. She lied about what Brogan was doing here, but she was set up by this guy here.” Delegado gave Vestiol a shake. “Oh, and Ryan, House Deneith is sealing the House Tharashk cottage and guarding it under my order until Greoche’s replacement comes.”

“General Brogan, you have an appointment with Oalian?” Ryan asked.

“No, Delegado asked me to come along to let you know we have settled our differences,” Brogan said. “I would have written you a letter as well but my hand was tired. Delegado, may I take Vestiol with me? I will bring him back to Oalian once I have my appointment.”

“He’s all yours,” Delegado said. “You have the authority under your House’s charter to deal with lawbreakers, and I respect your House’s mission.” Brogan and Delegado shook hands, and then the entourage of the ogre, the half-elf, the elven prisoner, the Deneith general, and the Warden of the Wood that had accompanied the Blademarks all walked back the way they came. “We okay now?” Delegado asked.

“Yes,” Orphan told him. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“Yeah, like I give a galig,” Delegado joked. “I was asking Thomas.”

Thomas gave a soft smile. “We’re fine. But Orphan is in charge from now on.”

“Works for me,” Delegado said.

“I am impressed that you went to Brogan to cooperate with him,” Orphan said.

“Professionals live in the future, amateurs live in the past,” Delegado told him.

“Does that mean you and he really like each other all that much?” Orphan asked, suspecting the answer.

“About as much as an Ashbound preacher likes an Aundair wizard,” Delegado shrugged. “But what he and I think and say privately isn’t the important thing in this.”

“Houses,” Ryan snorted.

“Aw, don’t feel left out, Ryan,” Delegado said. He pursed his lips and looked around. “You bored just waiting around here, Ryan? Want to make small talk?”

“Not with you,” Ryan grumbled.

“Tsk, too bad,” the half-orc replied. He seemed to suddenly have an idea. “Hey, you got a sister, Ryan?”

“Two,” Ryan said flatly.

“She knows that orcs do it with more strength, right?” Delegado asked with a nasty smirk. Thomas shook his head.

Ryan turned several colors and gripped the handle of his sword. Fortunately the treant came again and summoned them to Oalian before the human decided to draw it.