Chapter IV: The Road to Tradesdale

espite the events of the last few weeks, and despite their aching bones and the flinching at shadows, it was hard not to feel rested after a night spent in Legend's Hollow.

The party convened at dawn's breaking in the main tavern--the oldest building. Legend's Hollow was once simply just a wayfaring tavern. It had now blossomed into a resort of sorts... a midway station between Cöthrom and Tradesdale. There were now restaurants, pubs, a theater, several buildings with grand rooms, stables and even a natural hot springs. Legend's Hollow boasted one of the most beautiful locations in all of the Kaembran Empire. It was a welcome moment of rest for the travelers from Cöthrom.



Marco squinted his eyes. There was no sign of the gyspy woman called Vandra. And that troubled him. The fact that they'd all dreamt about her and she'd spoken their names last night... the fact that she's read his fortune and it rang true... it all troubled him.

He was still uncomfortable around Aeroth. The man seemed so focused on getting to safety and figuring out all the answers to all the questions that he hadn't stopped once to interrogate the magician. Marco counted himself lucky for that, for he never would wish himself again to be on the wrong side of Aeroth's wrath. Better to keep moving. Keep finding answers. But with no gyspy woman and no sign of anyone from "the trade", he was frustrated and completely at a loss.



Wyveryn, too, kept his eyes darting about. But for different reasons. For one, he hoped to find a barmaid and order a drink. For another, he was considering finding a way out of this mess. The more he traveled with these people, the more he disliked them and felt a great urge to leave. Could he leave at this point? Or was he also trapped like a rabbit? He watched in irritation as Jewelynna caressed the baby on her lap. Who brings babies into taverns? It would certainly draw attention.

He ordered a drink and sulked.

Two men wearing red and brown tunics strode past Aeroth and muttered, "Scum" under their breath.

"Be careful, or that may be the last word you utter."

One turned back to look at him and just laughed.

Aeroth was sure to show his half-elven ears, but the men moved on. It was clearly time to stop looking like a soldier from the Liberist Army. If only Tradesdale were closer. He could buy himself a tunic and begin passing into his new life.

"Laereth." He said out loud. "That will be my new name. It is close enough to Aeroth, but different enough. And I like it. Laereth I will be from this day forth."

As if responding to his name choice, the baby started to cry. There came irritated stares from those in the room. Many halted their conversations to glare pointedly at the group. And no amount of soothing did the trick. It was time to make a decision, and Aeroth was good at that.

"Let's go." He ordered, pushing his chair aside.

"I just ordered my drink." Grumbled Wyveryn.

"Now."

Wyveryn had had just about enough of being ordered around. He was nomadic by nature. And though he'd had soldier training, he knew now that he would never be a soldier like Aeroth. He was too much of a free thinker. He liked to make his own rules. Aeroth needed structure. Wyveryn needed the forest, a weapon, and not much else. It was then that he decided that he would part ways with the company upon reaching Tradesdale. Any sooner might put him in danger, but any later and he just might start saying, "Sir, yes, sir" when commanded.

Outside, in the beautiful courtyard of Legend's Hollow, Jewelynna did something strange. She attempted to hand the crying baby to Wyveryn, whose face went ghostly white.

"I don't want to-"

"Give her to me." Aeroth snatched her away before Wyveryn could grasp her. Still she cried.

"Will nothing make this kid happy?!" Wyveryn complained.

"I already have two whining babies. I don't need another one." And with that, Aeroth sat beside a waterfall fountain and sang a song once sung to him by Lux himself. He watched, in amazement, as the crying babe slowly stilled and listened intently to his voice.

"They battled for days and they battled for nights
A thousand, it's said,
A thousand, it's said,
But General Tieren won at dawn's last light
And the trails of the city ran red.

The twilight began then, the dawning of Tyr
To balance and cure
To balance and cure
Those brave soldiers gave us a world without fear
Though it was not without forfeiture."

And Tieren pointed at the dragon in the sky
The last of its kind
The last of its kind
'With the death of this ancient, all magic must die'
And so dawns the age of mankind
So dawns the age of mankind.'

Wyveryn thought the lyrics morose, but so fond was Aeroth's memory of the song being sung to him by General Lux that the baby was soothed and soon slept. Jewelynna let out a sigh of relief, and took the child back into her arms.

****



Marco slipped away from the group to purchase cloaks and to ask around for the gypsy woman. No one seemed to have seen her or heard of her. Such news was disconcerting. Having trained all his life as an assassin, Marco knew that people always left a trail.

At long last, he found one man who said he'd seen her.

"She said she left something for one of you." He shrugged. "Don't know which one, and don't know what it was. Don't even know why she bothered telling me. But you asked."

"Thank you, sir." Swift as a bolt of lightning, the magician returned to their quarters, only to find a small wooden box on Wyveryn's bed. There was a golden lock built in... nothing beyond Marco's ability to pick. And the urge to see what was inside certainly was there. But he'd made enough bad decisions lately. In this case it was best, perhaps, not to know.

He pocketed the object and left the inn to find the others.



****

The party's plans to continue their sail down the river were thwarted by the sight of a group of guards gathering at the docks. Upon closer inspection, Wyveryn recognized the white-bearded fisherman from Blythe. And of course, standing two full heads taller than the rest of them, was Jigger. The young half-elf took a step back and tried not to let the others see the beads of sweat on his face.



"I think we should go. Now."

Aeroth peered at him angrily. "What did you do back in Blythe? Who are those people?"

"Not important." Said Tik. "But I agree. We should go. Now."

"On foot?!"

"On foot. Do you have a better option?"

Aeroth swore under his breath. "I told you two to find a boat. I never said anything about stealing--"

"You said by any means necessary!" Wyveryn protested.

"Just walk." Said Marco. "We can discuss this later. Here, put this cloak on. We leave at once."

Aeroth's grumblings continued long after Legend's Hollow fell back from their sight. He grumbled as the sun rose high above the treetops. He grumbled as he placed each foot in front of the other. Instinctively, the group walked a few paces away from him, lest he erupt like a volcano.

****



The road to Tradesdale would be a two-day journey by foot. It was scenic, with mountains and lakes alongside it. There was decent rainfall in the southern Kaembran regions, resulting in lush trees and foliage. There was little cause to worry about Briagands. The road was well-traveled, for Trade's Day was in two days. The company would arrive just in time for the festival. So joining them on the road were merchants, fur traders, blacksmith, weavers, cobblers, bakers, jewelers, and chandlers. All seemed excited for the upcoming trade, and since the the hibernus snows were melting, they were enjoying the warm weather.

Aeroth and his companions were mostly quiet. There was a feeling in the air left unspoken, but Aeroth knew they mourned the loss of their friend, Hiroko. He had been like a right-hand man to him in the short time he'd known him. And Aeroth was sure that if they'd had more time together, they would have been a force to be reckoned with. It saddened him now to think of what had become of him. But he said nothing, as the others said nothing. There was no use talking about the past.





An old couple, hobbling along with their mule and a small wagon, struck up a conversation with Aeroth's group. Marco, curious for information, pressed them gently for information. They spoke animatedly about a "special event" they'd gotten tickets for.

"What event?" Asked Tik, having overheard the subject.

"Oh, you know. The event! The one everyone's traveled to Tradesdale for on Trade's Day! Celebrating the son of Tyr! He will save us all!"

"The son of Tyr?"

"Aye!" Said the old woman. "He is risen again. And the Cardinal comes to speak to us at the Event in Tradesdale. Everyone is going. You should see if you can get tickets."

"Eh?" Said the old man. "There's thickets ahead? I don't see none."

"Oh hush up and just walk your ass, Virgil."

"Hrumph!"

An Event. The son of Tyr. And the Cardinal. At the mention of Simeon Okra, Aeroth's face darkened. Jewelynna recognized the look... as if the hungry lion was about to pounce upon the unsuspecting deer. Though Simeon Okra was hardly unarmed prey. Even if the Cardinal was speaking at the event, how would they get to him? What was Aeroth scheming in that large head of his?

As the day wore on, the people traveling along the road began to speak in whispers. At twilight, the road was silent. Soon, the merchants, traders, blacksmiths, chandlers and even Virgil and the little old woman created a circular caravan of wagons to set up camp for the night.

"What are you doing?" Marco asked the little old woman.

"It's not safe to travel along the road at night alone." She said. "You're best to stay here with us."



And as if her words took form, a sixth sense shot into the back of Tik, Wyveryn, and Marco's neck. Their hairs stood on end, as they watched the shadows from the trees dance around them.

"This is not good." Whispered Wyveryn. "It's the same things that attacked us at the Temple of Tyr."

Tik looked up to see shadows moving through the treetops.

"No," he said. "This time it's different. They're in the treetops."



They moved inside the caravan, wondering what sort of protection the group would give them. If this was Bâhlmüt, there would be no protection to be found. It would simply depend on numbers. If this was the army of Wraiths, then there was no hope. Aeroth and his company watched and waited.

And then, at the worst possible time, the baby erupted in tears.

"Calm her! Quiet her down." Said Wyveryn.

"I can't!" Jewelynna tried desperately to soothe the weeping babe, but nothing seemed to help. And to make matters worse, a guard approached them with a lit torch in his hand and the other hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You'll silence the child now, or you risk all our lives." He instructed.

"You'll do best not to give us orders." Aeroth challenged him. Tik and Wyveryn shook their heads.

"Who are you? Some peasant? We are here to protect these people. You cannot silence your child, then you'll kill us all."

"I do not need you to tell me what to do." It was clear Aeroth was losing control of the situation. Even worse, all his anger and frustrations were being thrust full force at the guard. His companions behind him grabbed his arms, trying to pull him back before he said something that would throw them out into the darkness, helpless and alone.

"You have exactly ten seconds..." Said the guard.

This time it was Tik who held the baby and sang a song of the Elladrin. In relief, the company watched the baby relax in his arms and cease her cries. Just then, the trees moved and every guard with a torch held it out at the shadows. Aeroth threw his staff out onto the trail and watched in horror as several shadows scattered. There seemed to come from them a collective hiss of displeasure, and whatever it was just beyond the caravan backed away in revulsion. It did not seem to care for the light. He recalled throwing his spear at the drow man from the caves of Cöthrom, and realized that he wasn't making any friends lately.



Aeroth turned haughtily to the guard. "You are very lucky."

"No, you're lucky. There's more of us than there is of you." And with that, he left.

"He'd better be careful." Banger muttered under her breath to the night air. "If he's going to pretend to be a peasant, he has to learn to act like one."

****

That night, they dreamt again. This time, the voice belonged to Marco's mother. He recognized it instantly, but could not keep her from telling his secrets to his companions.



Marco awoke to find Aeroth staring right at him. He rubbed his eyes and did not need to ask if the others had seen what he'd seen. Trying not to act disconcerted that the others now knew many of his secrets, he tried to console himself with the fact that at least his mother had not written his true name.

"This baby will help me find my sister before she dies."

"The child's connected to your sister?"

"The child is connected to us."

Even as he said it, Marco did not realize just how true those words really were.

****

The closer the party came to Tradesdale, the busier the road became. Soon it was cluttered with horses and wagons, people and goats. The travelers felt like sheep being herded through a fence as they passed the city gates.

It was a glorious place. Having once been a home of thieves and cutthroats, Tradesdale had thrived under the strict government established by General Lux. It had been built along the river, with a friendly view of the mountains and valleys. Indeed, Tradesdale seemed a most welcoming place. Wyveryn, however, though it much too overcrowded. Jewelynna kept her hood about her head, frightened that someone of her family might recognize her. She glanced worriedly at the baby, who'd been in and out of sleep and then would cry in hunger. But what did fey babies eat? She was too scared to find a wet nurse lest it kill the babe. For she and the others were discovering the vast differences between human and fey.

It was when they made their way into the town square that they first caught a glimpse of the statue. It was made of a black opal stone, so dark that it did not even reflect the sun's light. The piece was still under construction, so there was scaffolding around and sculptors busily chiseling away.



It was obviously a man, proud and tall, his handsome face bearing toward the sky, his best bare and his belt and pants of Matsudiian design. He wore sandals on his feet, and there was a sword in his right hand which he raised to the heavens. A shield was on his left arm. His hair was long and flowing, his face outlined in tatoos.

Jewelynna let out a gasp. This was when they collectively recognized the figure of their lost friend, Hiroko Dragonborn. Suddenly they became aware of the people around them, passing by the statue. They touched the back of their fist to their foreheads and bowed in reverence. Some mothers held their babies up to the opal Hiroko and whispered words of prayer.

"Tyr's balls." Aeroth said, stunned.

"So, this must be the 'son of Tyr'." Said Tik. "Unbelievable. I used to get drunk with him in Cöthrom."

But the rest of the party, so accustomed to pithy comments and witticism, merely stood in a long, staggering silence.



****

Eventually they separated, trying not to notice the deification of their friend from Cöthrom. Truthfully, they each had their own business in some place or another. And the agreement was to convene at The Elf King Inn by drawbridge of the castle. Aeroth and Tik went to buy supplies, Tik itching for the opportunity to find some swords. Jewelynna thought it best to go straight to the lodging and tend to the babe. Marco silently went his own way without many words.

But where Wyveryn was going, he had no intention of coming back.

He walked down as many alleys and smaller streets to avoid the crowds, but it was near impossible not to. Trades Day was the biggest day of the year in Tradesdale. And Wyveryn's ears hurt from all the merchants barking at him to trade goods. His feet kept moving, one in front of other, until he found himself in front of the library steps.

It was an impressive building, obviously made to look older, but Wyveryn knew the library could not have been one of the original structures of Tradesdale. It must have been built by Lux's government. And the off-handed thought made him wonder who was acting running this city now the General Lux was dead? The thought flittered away as he found himself drawn to the great big pair of wooden doors. They were already open, inviting him in.

And so he went.

****

It was along one of the main streets by a large brown and brick tavern that Marco caught sight of the first familiar face he'd encountered since Cöthrom. The man would have been otherwise inconspicuous. He was dressed in a simple brown tunic, tan breeches and brown leather boots. He leaned against the building as if he owned it, smoking a corn cob pipe. And as Marco approached him, the man made no sign of recognition. Indeed, he did not even glance up from his pipe.



He merely said, "Well, Magician, it has been a long time."

"Indeed. That it has. Greetings, Trickster."

"Greetings, Marcus Magentum. What brings you to this city in these dark times?"

"Information gathering. What do you know about this event?"

The one called The Trickster was a young, good-looking man. His ears were slightly pointed at the end, marking him as half-elven. His hair was sandy blonde, his eyes a mischievous brown--so dark they could almost be marked as black. And his demeanor was that of a cocky young fellow who owned the entire city. Marco had known the Trickster for many years. He's seen others mistakenly underestimate this boy, and pay a high price for it. The Trickster had been known by many names. Within the guild, many jokingly called him "The Boss" for his high sense of self-worth. But Marco wouldn't have really been surprised if this boy really was the Boss of Tradesdale. He knew everyone's business and no one knew his. The sign of a good thief.

The Trickster cocked his brow in a way that made him seem thoughtful. "The Event is a joke. The people suffer. Dark things come through the city gates at night. They feel unprotected and are looking for a savior. Hence the statue erected at the City Gates. They believe the son of Tyr has risen, and he is embodied in Hiroko Dragonborn."

"I believe Hiroko is being held here. Have you seen him?"

The Trickster scoffed. "Seen him? No. They say he's dead. Or risen, rather. I supposed he will have had to die in order to rise."

"Is it true the Cardinal is speaking tonight?"

"Aye. To give healings. But I like it not. The whole thing seems too staged. There is trouble afoot, Marco. You came to Tradesdale at a very bad time, perhaps. Hopefully, it won't cost you your life. But I can't promise that. You don't know what it's been like here these last few weeks. Ever since Redemption Day, as the Fool Prince likes to call it, children have been stolen from their beds at night. People close and lock their doors at twilight, for we are under some kind of silent attack. And what's worse, we are receiving no help from the castle. They shut their gates and let none in until the morning. The people are angry. They call for justice. So you see, if the Cardinal had not come himself, there would have been a riot."

"You think so?"

"Aye, magician. People will do just about anything if they are frightened and desperate enough." He flipped a gold coin nimbly in his hand an pocketed it.

"I see. Thank you for your time, sir. You've given me much to think on." And then, something pulled at Marco. A distant tug, but it told him to move on from there. And perhaps find the library.

"Best of luck to you, magician. Tyr knows, you will need it."


****



The library was much larger on the inside than it seemed on the outside. Never before had Wyveryn seen so many dead trees in one place. He walked, the heels of his boots clicking on the wooden floor. It was such an odd sensation, moving silently through the forest of books, as if he were being led by the hand. Then he came to an aisle, empty and dimly lit. The impulse to go there overcame him, as gentle as a voice whisperig the suggestion in his ear.

That was when he heard a voice, thin and high pitched like the squeak of a mouse.

"Down heeeeere." It said.

Wyveryn stared at the seemingly normal book from which he thought the voice had come from. It was impossible not to look over his shoulder to see if someone was playing a trick on him.

"Go ahead... open me."

It was a small brown leather-bound book, with a gold emblem on the front. Amazed, Wyveryn picked it up and stared dumbly at the thing. There came a flatulence sound from it... a giggle... and then, "Wyveryn!"

His heart stammered in his chest.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I is not so thoughtful as what am I where who is not.. ful."

"What??"

"I am the Book of Everything... well, almost. I know the things of downright truth... and upmost. Inside my pages are the things of which I boast. Just don't forget I know it all.... well... almost."

Wyveryn blinked.

"What am I to do with you?"

"Go ahead... open me."

Feeling absurd, Wyveryn opene the cover to the title page. It read:

The Book of Everything... well, almost.

"Are you really talking to me?"

"Yes."

"Did you compel me to come here?"

"Yes."

To himself, he said, "I am going mad."

"Yes."

It dawned on Wyveryn that for the first time in his half-elven life, he'd been insulted by a book.

"I've half a mind to tear your pages out."

"Watch it, wise guy."

"If you're so knowledgable, tell me what I'm to ask you."

"Well, if I knew everything I would be omnipotent, wouldn't I?"

Wyveryn groaned in frustration. He was tired of games. "I don't know what to ask you."

"Go ahead, ask me something, be it fifty things or one thing."

"Am I an idiot for talking to a book?"

"Yes."

"I hate you."

****

One by one, each member of the company was summoned to the library. Aeroth, Tik, and Jewelynna, who'd been trying desperately to comfort the hungry baby in The Elf King Inn, suddenly heard the call and began making their way back through the crowded city streets.

Marco, however, reached it first. He climbed the library steps and found his way inside. It did not take long to notice Wyveryn, staring at a small brown leather-bound book, seemingly talking to himself. Suspicion entered his heart, and he silently slipped into the next aisle, listening to the conversation.

The voice on the other end was one he knew well. Tiny, almost feminine, like the squeak of a mouse. Marco knew instantly what Wyveryn had found.

"Who owns you?" Asked the half-elf.

"My owner is Horatio
Who he is, you'll never know!
Where he is's essential though
To finding where you're supposed to go!"

"Who's Horatio?" Asked Wyveryn.


****


Upon hearing the name, Marco stepped around the corner to reveal himself. This had gone on long enough.

"Wyveryn."

The half-elf desperately tired to hide the book, but it was much too vocal.

"Hello? Helloooo?"

"What are you hiding behind your back, Wyveryn?"

"Nothing."

"I am the book of--"

"Shutup!"

"Sometimes, it's like talking to rocks," muttered the grumpy book. "ROCKS."

"Wyveryn."

"What?"

The look Marco gave was one of the exasperated father scolding the disobedient child. Embarrassed, Wyveryn revealed what he'd been hiding behind his back. The book, quite pleased with itself, launched back into its speech about Horatio.

"Who is this Horatio, anyway?"

"His is not someone you would know, but he is very important. Tell me where you found this."

"Just right here."

"Right here in the library? On this shelf?"

"Do I look like an idiot, Marco?"

"Yes." Came the book's quick reply.

****

The expressions on Aeroth, Jewelynna, and Tik's faces were strained, as the weeping baby refused to be consoled. Songs, poetry, stories... none of it seemed to work. It was apparent the baby was huntry, but what did a fae child eat?



The crowds in the streets were not as heavy as before. Most of those who had tickets to the Event were already at the Ampitheatre by the castle grounds. Aeroth was at least certain that no one would recognize him. He looked nothing like his old self. His long hair was chopped short, howeing off his pointed ears and making him appear younger. He felt a bit lost without his Liberist armor, but the new tunic, breeches and boots that he'd bought in the Tradesdale market were comfortable, and the cloak that the magician had purchased in Legend's Hollow was comforting, though his feelings about the magician were not yet sorted.

As if on cue, Marco stopped out of the library door, Wyveryn in tow. The dark half-elf feverishly clutched a small brown leather-bound book to his chest. Aeroth had to roll his eyes, for his two companions stuck out like sore thumbs.

"Marco. Wyveryn."

"Afternoon, Aeroth. No doubt you had a sense to come here, too."

"Aye. You as well?"

"Of course. Nothing's too strange these days."

The baby wailed louder and louder, but as Wyveryn drew closer, it seemed to hush. Puzzled, Aeroth stared back and forth between the baby and the dark half-elf.

"It seems to want you."

"Me?! I--"

But before Wyveryn could protest, Marco snatched the book away and the baby was in his arms. At long last, its crying ceased, and it started to coo merrily. But a bead a sweat broke out on the half-elf's forehead.

"What am I supposed to do with this??!"

"Hold her."

And as he did, Wyveryn could not deny the sense of peacefulness that he felt. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm blanket. The tiny child grasped his fingertip in the palm of her hand and began to suck. It horrified him.

But Aeroth's attention was on the book. "What is that you have there?"

And the book replied.

"I am the Book of Everything... well, almost.
I know the things of downright truth, and upmost.
Inside my pages are the things of which I boast.
Just don't forget I know it all... well.... almost."

Aeroth took the book from Marco. "Who are you?"

"My owner is Horatio.
Who he is, you'll never know.
Where he is is essential, though
To finding where you're supposed to go?"

"Who is Horatio?" Asked Aeroth, marveling over the talking book.

"That is a very long story." Marco sighed. "But I will say this: I believe that Hiroko is being held against his will, but is being made a martyr. I believe that the cardinal is setting this city up for a full assault. I believe that we are in grave danger and need to leave this city now.”

"Yes." Said the book.

"Yes?" The men asked in unison.

"Yes."

"Is Hiroko alive?" Asked Aeroth.

"I don't know."

And soon the questions came pouring forth.

"Did your owner send us to find you?"

"Yes."

"Is your owner here in Tradesdale?"

"No."

"Are we supposed to find your owner?"

"Yes."

"Lareth," interjected the magician, "May I humbly suggest we take this conversation elsewhere? Perhaps... to a more private location?"

It was true. They were receiving stares from the onlookers in the street. Those who were heading to the Event made a wary wide circle around the group at the base of the library stairs. Indeed, it would be best to reconvene in a more private place.

The sun was setting overhead. And from the cry of the crowd, the Event was getting underway. Once more, the party separated, this time to find their way into the Ampitheatre. Though Tik and Jewelynna were unable to find access to tickets, they were able to climb her old house and look out over the city's landscape. Wyveryn, who'd given the baby back to the woman, had slipped into the shadows once more. While Marco and Aurora found their own rooftop to sit upon.

The Ampitheatre was visible from the rooftops. As the orange sun dipped into the purple sky, Marco could see the thousands of people who had gathered at the event. He could hear their thundering applause and feel the pounding of their feet like an earthquake. He could even see the red robes of Cardinal Okra, who stood upon the stage and raised his arms to the sky as if he were some kind of divine god himself. A moment's fear ran through the magician's mind. What would Okra do if he knew Aeroth were still alive?

Jewelynna gasped beside him and touched his shoulder. She pointed to the forest beyond the city gates. Shadows began to touch the trees, but like they did on the road to Tradesdale, they moved in an unnatural way. And now, they were cascading over the city walls. Marco swiveled around, taking his attention from the Ampitheatre to the outskirts of Tradesdale. Hundreds of shadows poured over the gates, atop the walls, silent as the whisper of the wind. And just about every living soul was sitting in the Ampitheatre. The city would be taken unaware.

"Tyr help us all." Marco whispered under his breath.