Chapter 8: Call to Arms

Back to: ""Chapter 7: Eklinston" 

Call to Arms

Lin ventured outside as soon as her half-elven charge fell back into slumber. Kneeling in the shadows beside the church, she said a silent prayer to her god and guide on this strange quest. She dug her hands into the soft dirt, thanking Meiliki for allowing her to escape the clutches of Raven's Peak and for sending her the Cleric Alton. I thank you for him, she thought silently, and I dare ask you to watch over my family. They know not where I am and thus worry. Please, send me a sign to light the way, that I know I still walk the path you've set me on.

She opened her eyes to the glitter of lights and voices from the inn across the street. The cheer and liveliness called to her. Standing, she strode across the darkened street. She let herself in quietly and unnoticed by all but the elven archer. He sat off in a corner, an untouched mug of ale in his hands and a bare plate pushed slightly away.

His silver-gray eyes met hers and held them.

Lin maneuvered easily through the crowd singing raucous songs led by the merchant perched precariously on the bar.

"May I?" she asked the elf, sliding into the seat next to him.

He twitched, startled, and then slid the mug across the table.

"A good mug is almost worth the noise and trouble of a town, hmm?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps, if this were a town, and if that were real ale. I prefer wine."

"What brings you across the mountains?" Lin asked, deciding to cut the chat and be blunt.

He considered her for a moment. Nodding slightly, as if making up his mind, he leaned forward. "I--"

The door crashed inward. A man in scarlet and gold livery stepped inside, the room going silent around him. Behind him stood two more uniformed soldiers.

Standing a trifle unsteadily, the Mayor addressed the man. "Captain Omar, how gracious of you to join us."

The captain scowled disdainfully down at Eklinston's mayor. "I have no intention of joining you," he said. "I have brought a proclamation from the King." He held out a hand. One of his men laid a scroll in the beckoning palm. Opening it, Omar began to read: "I, Loratio Tenesla the third, King of all Umbria, hereby declare war on the southern kingdom of Derssayne, whereupon all men between the ages of sixteen and thirty are hereby required to enlist in the King's Army and report to the royal city of Islint by the noon hour on the day after the next full moon. Signed, King Loratio III."

In the silent room, Torlin's gasp was clear for all to hear. Omar looked up from the proclamation, directly into Torin's eyes. "Well, well," he said. "Do not move, elf, or I shall have you killed where you sit."

Lin stood, undaunted by these men. "Why do you seek him?"

Omar's eyes flicked to hers. "Now, this will be a pretty prize. A treasonous elf and an outlaw. And sitting together. How thoughtful of you."

Lin's chin lifted. "I am no outlaw," she stated coldly. "And this boy has done you no harm. We are both travelers in this land."

"Not strangers enough," Omar grunted. "You are under arrest. If you seek to flee, you will be shot."


{c}"Chapter 9: A Not-so-Great Morning"