The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - On to Xorinth

On to Xorinth

Larson and Garrett Adventure the Sixth by Aaron Dennis

Published by www.storiesbydennis.com November 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Garrett sat with a frown on his face. Practically twiddling his thumbs while resting in his room at The Cat's Meow, he fretted over the recent events; Cormick had made claims regarding the elven community, which left Garrett with a bad taste in his mouth, and it can't be the fish, he thought. That was some great trout.

After rapping his fingers on his knees a moment, he stood, approached the small, oaken desk, found a quill and parchment, and by candlelight, he sat on a stool to write a letter for Aluham. A discreet warning of the White Wraith cult, their connection to Lagos, and the goblin trinket were the essence of the letter. Garrett also mentioned his traveling to Xorinth in order to meet with a friend.

"I hope he forgives my neglecting to mention this awful pendant when we left him for Fargo, " Garrett thought, aloud.

It didn't take much of an effort to scribble the latest happenings, but it did take some effort to explain just what was at stake-monsters, madmen, and the resurrection of the God of Destruction.

He ended his note with an act of contrition and a warning: My apologies for keeping secrets. Take heed of Larson's words; unite with the humans of Fargo. Something nefarious is at work, I'm afraid, but stay safe, and stay sharp, old friend.

With the letter finished, Garrett stretched his arms over his head, ran fingers through his blonde hair, and walked over to the window. He pulled the red drape aside and peeked out into the chilly night. The view from his room was only the back wall of the adjacent miners' boardinghouse. Fortunately, morning was soon to come, and Garrett nabbed his belongings, the letter, and made his way downstairs into the inn's restaurant.

The only person present in the expansive, wooden room was a young man in peasant's clothing. He was righting the upside down stools in front of the bar, his long hair bouncing about. When he heard Garrett's approach, the young man turned around, pushed his hair back in place, gave a weak smile, and nodded.

"Morning, " he whispered. "Sleep alright?"

"Yes, thank you, " Garrett replied, hurriedly and without breaking stride.

He marched past the bar, vacant booths, and out the door. Need to find a courier, he thought. Remembering he'd come across a mailing office on his way to the temple of Akalabash, the young fencer continued down the darkened streets. A handful of townsfolk made their slow walk to work, to the markets, to where ever their peaceful lives led them. Moments later, Garrett reached the small office; it was a two story, block building with a hand carved sign. He tried to push the door open, but it was locked, so he knocked, and when no one answered, he huffed.

"Well, " he mused. "Guess I'm in no rush anyway."

It was still going to be two days before Larson's arrival, and he wasn't sure if Lola was fit for a ride, so he simply plunked down next to the door, his back resting against the wall. Letting his thoughts drift, memories of better times brought a smile to his face; wine, women, and money had been his only concerns for a while, and that was mostly due to his wanting to forget about the tragedy that had struck his friends, but times were different now, and though they appeared to be darkening, there was hope; he had purpose, and he had a friend willing to fight the good fight.

The sound of a wooden bar sliding drew his attention. Upon standing, he noticed the sky was also brightening. When the door came open, he stepped up to the entrance.

"Morning, chap, " a middle aged man greeted.

"Good morning, Sir. I have a letter to mail."

"Yes, of course. Do come in, " the courier offered. Obliging, Garrett stepped inside. Candles barely lit the office, and all he was able to see was the counter behind which the man stepped. "What have you got?"

"A letter for Aluham, the elven elder in a community near Fargo, " he replied.

"Mmm, " the courier frowned, dusted his gray tunic, and lit some more candles, which revealed his wrinkles. "We don't normally send our men to traipse into the mountains. It'll you cost ya'."

"Understood."

After noting down Garrett's instructions regarding how to find the community, the man asked for a silver piece, sealed the letter, placed it in the outgoing basket, thanked Garrett for his business, and finally set himself to open some windows, so the light of day graced the wooden interior. Garrett welcomed the man for his thanks, walked back outside, and then considered seeking out Dolf; the fencer wanted to make sure Talsador's finest were prepared for more ilk like Cormick; hired men were as likely to start trouble as they were to end it.

"I suppose it's back to The Finagling Frog for the moment, " he deliberated.

The morning breeze kicked up a bit of dust. Garrett quickly tied his hair back to keep it from gallivanting about. With a cacophony of sounds in the air like music-birds chirping, men singing about their wares in the market, and children shouting taunts while playing-Garrett sauntered back to the shady inn. Inside, he found a few people eating a late breakfast.

"'Ello, mate, " a man behind the bar greeted. "Will you be staying?"

"No, thank you, " Garrett smiled. "I was hoping to find Dolf."

"The large bloke with the funny voice?"

"Erm, yes."

"He's a miner, ya know. Find 'im at the mines, probably."

"Thanks."

"Sure you won't grab a bite ta' eat?"

"Ah, what the Hell, " Garrett chuckled. "The food here is pretty good."

At that point, he plunked down on a stool at the bar, ordered some chicken, rice, and tea, and continued ruminating about his current situation. That damned trinket...I certainly hope no more strangeness ensues while I'm in town. The tea came up first, served in a small, ceramic cup. While sipping the piping hot brew, what few patrons there were slowly finished their conversations and made their way out.

"'Ere you go, " the barkeep said, drawing Garrett's attention.

He smiled weakly and nodded before sliding the bowl closer to himself. After a quick sniff, he smiled broadly and started shoveling the food down his gullet. The savory juices from the chicken had blended perfectly into the rice, and the lightest touch of rosemary, lemon, and salt really brought the whole meal together.

Garrett paid his tab and made his way onto the cobbled streets. Rather than asking the barkeep, or even then patrolmen for directions, he continued to the guards' barracks. Upon reaching the wooden building, Garrett entered to find Ograk. As was her custom, she sat with her feet up on a desk, picking pulled pork from her fangs.

"Oh, the pretty boy, " she chirped and hopped off from her chair, nearly knocking over the papers covering the table.

"Uh, yes, " Garrett grinned. "I wanted to find Dolf and talk to him about what may come to pass after Larson's arrival and our subsequent departure, but I figured I should talk to you as well...you and your guards seems the most capable I've ever met."

"Yes, " she nodded. "Good you come for talk. You listen, when people like Cormick come, more people come, too, bad people. Guards here good, though. We keep people safe." That brought a frown to Garrett's face. When he furrowed his brow, she asked, "What wrong?"

"Two people died yesterday, and I can't help but feel it was my fault. That's why I've come back to see you...and what you just said is true; I also fear more danger is on the horizon. Dolf and his friends seemed more than willing to help. I'm going to discuss matters with him personally, but I think maybe you should round up others like him, a sort of mercenary band willing to fight for the town...keep an extra eye out for trouble...and no one can know that Larson and I are heading for Xorinth."

"Understood, " she nodded slowly. "When you leave?"

"As soon as Larson arrives, I hope. Though he may want to rest, I'll try to get as far from town as possible as quickly as possible, and speaking of Dolf, I was told he's a miner."

"No, " she said with a touch of surprise. Garrett was also a bit shocked by her assertion. "He mine sometimes to help, but Dolf is griffin knight."

"Griffin knight?!"

"Yes, a, " she was explaining.

"I know, King Roan's elite squadron, " Garrett interrupted. "I won't ask what he's doing here, but now I must speak to him...he must know something of the current proceedings in the capitol. Where can I find him?"

"Check miner barracks. He usually there if not working or drinking at Frog."

"Got it...Ograk, " he said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Thank you, " he said and placed a hand on her shoulder as a sign of solidarity.

"You sure you no want cart ride?" she joked.

He chuckled, winked, and left her to her devices. Since the barracks were by The Meow, the fencer made his way back. It was just after noon by then, and the bright sun reflected an intense light off the stone streets and buildings. Garrett had to squint to keep his eyes from burning. The shadows had become short and scant, thus lacking in protection from the increasing glare.

Inside the stone barracks, which were laden with cots, trunks for the workers, smelly garments, and too much dust or grime, Garrett saw only older men, who were eating lunch after toiling in the nearby mountains.

"Greetings, people, " Garrett started. The weary miners glanced at him. "Dolf at the mines today?"

"He was, " a slightly younger man with graying hair answered. "Always wanders off 'round lunch time."

While Garrett gazed at the man, another chimed in, saying, "The young folk always eat out in the sun; terrible heat today. You know, when I was young, I used to eat out in the sun, too. I was so dark and tan back then. All the young ladies used to fawn over me. My hair was blonde, like yours. Now it's gray and stringy, and mostly gone."

"Bill, " another miner hollered. "He don't need ta' know all that!" Garrett chuckled. "Listen, young man, just follow the trail out of town towards the east. It'll curve northeast and south. Take it south. It'll curve eastwards. By the time you get there, the miners ought to be back, swingin' away at the stone. You'll find Dolf."

Garrett nodded in appreciation and made his way out of the building. The cobbled street on the south end of the building led beyond some smaller homes; some were two-story, stone houses, others were wooden huts or shacks, and the farther south he went, the smaller and shabbier the homes were, but the streets ended at a steel worker's shop, which seemed to double as a home. From there, the beaten path led eastwards as the miner had stated.

The high altitude coupled with a steady breeze made the afternoon's heat almost pleasurable. Garrett meandered quite peacefully over grassy hills; the mountains loomed to the south and southeast. Thin, small, puffy clouds blotted the blue sky. Wildflowers of all colors danced in the winds. Before too much longer, the sounds of men joking, hammers smashing stone, and carts rolling over tracks grew audible. From the top of a large hill, Garrett saw the entrance into the mines, an immense hole lighted by torches; it was an opening carved into the cliff side and still a ways off.

"Ahoy, " Garrett called out, his voice echoing off the cliff.

A group of young, shirtless men noticed his approach. They let their hammers and picks rest against the ground while gazing at him from beneath hands shading eyes from the sun. They seemed to turn to each other in confusion, perhaps questioning his approach. Upon covering the distance, Garrett introduced himself and asked after Dolf.

"What's this about, " a burly, swarthy man barked.

"My apologies, " Garrett said. "I'm an envoy from Ruvonia. The Duke of Welchester needs a word with Dolf."

"Oh, " one asked. "A fancy noble, are we?"

"Here's a silver piece to cover your dinners for the night. Please fetch the man for me, " Garrett smiled.

That brightened their faces, and they all ran off. Minutes later, Dolf returned with the group. His white tunic was almost sandy brown with dust. The pale brute's hair was pulled high into a topknot, and he scrutinized Garrett with a look of confusion.

"Dolf, a word, " Garrett asked. "In private, if you will, " he added with a motion of his head to follow over to a barren area where some laden carts sat unoccupied.

Dolf followed carefully, but said nothing. Once they were out of earshot, and the worker's returned to their tools, Garrett leaned comfortably against a cart.

"They sayed some envoy come to see me, " Dolf said with his odd accent.

"Yes, I lied, but that's because I'm trying to create some confusion."

"I see, " Dolf said and sat down cross-legged against another cart; he was attempting to catch what little shade there was. For a moment, the two simply scrutinized one another with a look of steely determination; they were both resolved for something. "There ees trouble...."

"There might be, and Ograk told me you're a griffin knight."

"Yeys, " he admitted, but didn't appear shocked, proud, or even rebuffed.

"Listen, you remember Cormick attacked the town because of something I'm carrying."

"I reemember."

"Well, I have to get it to Xorinth where it'll be safe, and I'll be doing that sooner rather than later, but I fear that since Cormick was hired to find this pendant, and Larson and me by extension, other men will be hired for the same reason." Garrett paused a moment. Dolf nodded slowly, but his stoic expression never wavered. "At any rate, since you're a good man, I thought I might entrust this city's safety to you and your dwarven mates...and Ograk, of course, I already spoke to her."

"Talsador can count on me, " Dolf agreed. "You didn't half to ask for that."

"I know, " Garrett nodded in appreciation.

"There ees more, eesn't there, " Dolf trailed off.

Garrett's demeanor turned firm. Again, they just stared at one another for a time. The breeze ruffled their hair and cooled their skin.

"Well...nothing you or Talsador need worry over, " the fencer said while looking off toward the horizon. "Since I learned you're a knight...I have to ask."

"About King Roan?" Dolf interrupted. Garrett immediately locked eyes. "There ees something dark een the works, and I vas sent to deescover vhat, but...this I cannot divulge. Vhat I can say to you ees this; the king ees not himself...there ees someone pooling strings."

"Lagos?"

"This nayme I do not know."

"Never mind then...but do keep an ear out for that name, Lagos."

"Eef I may, " Dolf started.

"Of course."

"Vhat you do een Xorinth?"

"I just need to drop this damnable trinket off with a friend. It will be safe there...it should end all of the trouble."

"You vill be safe? I might come vith, " he offered.

"It's more important for everyone's safety if you stayed here...besides, you said you have your own operation at stake."

Dolf nodded slowly, a smile almost crept across his hard visage. Garrett smiled broadly. Butterflies flapped about the men, momentarily drawing their attention; a reminder that peace was a fragile thing.

"Anyway...I feel much better knowing that Talsador will be safe."

Garrett came away from the cart, and as he did, Dolf slowly came to his feet. They nodded to one another one last time, and then Garrett turned on his heels, and started his weary trek back to the heart of the city.

"Garrett, " Dolf called.

"Yes?"

"Keep your vits about you een Xorinth, " he warned.

"I will, Dolf. Thanks."

The long haul back into the city gave Garrett much time for deliberation. He wondered after what dangers might be present in Talsador if Dolf was investigating something. He also wondered why he needed to take care in Xorinth; the city guards, well versed mages, were known for being solid men and women, but all big cities held secrets, and Xorinth, being the magickal center of Ruvonia, was likely home to dark cults, necromancy, thieves, and perhaps worse.

It was nearly sunset by the time he made it back to the town square. Men and women selling wares from gazebos were making their last calls while closing down. From the center of peasant trade, he made for the temple of Akalabash.

Burning torches in sconces on either side of the doors lit the temple's portico. Wavering shadows created by the errant flames brought a sense of uneasiness, which Garrett felt in his stomach. He knocked on the doors then waited a moment.

After the interior bar slid away and Willem opened the door, he poked his droopy face out. "Master Garrett."

"Greetings, Willem."

"Do come inside, " the old priest said with a wave of the hand. "What's brought you back?"

"Loose ends, I suppose."

The priest busied himself with barring the door. It took nearly all of his strength.

"What do you mean, " he asked while patting his robe for wrinkles.

Garrett frowned, answering, "I've been parading around Talsador, trying to make certain the city is protected."

"From?" Willem interrupted.

"I don't really know, " Garrett trailed off.

Both men watched each other for a moment. The stale air of the temple's foyer remained still, and the cold stonework was as poorly lit as it had ever been. The austere setting was foreboding.

"You look troubled, " the priest whispered.

"I'll cut the crap, " Garrett said with a fierce look, which shocked the old man. "I need to know about the Dark One."

"Well, he's just a politician, " Willem said with mild surprise.

"Yes...that's what I'd heard, but I've also heard he's ensconced in evil rumors; black market dealings, backdoor deals, which leave the populace in a poor state, dark magick, and sinister rituals. Certainly, he's called the Dark One for a reason."

Willem bobbed his head up and down a bit while Garret spoke. He didn't make eye contact during the exchange of words, but when Garrett began tapping his foot, Willem looked up.

"Does this have anything to do with your previous concerns, " he asked, gravely.

"Absolutely...I only heard the name mentioned for the first time in years by the mercenary leader, the leader of the band that attacked the other day."

"I see...come, " Willem offered and made his way to the better lit library. When both sat comfortably at a large, wooden table with a lone candle burning upon it, he continued. "The Dark One was more than a political figurehead; he was first a priest of Thaud, God of Knowledge, who then influenced the people in the town of Longmarch by initiating false claims of bandits attacking their outskirts. Once the bandits were exterminated, bandits who were really slaves purchased by the Dark One, the people of Longmarch voted him mayor. Obviously, they had no knowledge of his subterfuge."

"And now he seems to be sending mercenaries out for more dirty work...he wants this goblin trinket...this thing reeks of Lagos and destruction, " Garrett voiced his concerns with care.

Willem shook his head in such dismay that a sense of dread permeated the library. "I do wonder what evil lurks behind closed doors, but listen. With such a title and influence, the Dark One united his people's efforts towards bettering their town; through the practices of knowledge he bestowed upon Longmarch new technology, and new magick, but shortly after, as the town grew into a city, he began making secret pacts and deals with mercenaries, merchants, and banks, and before long, the Dark One had sold the whole of Longmarch to lower class nobles. Oddly enough, he had simply vanished after Longmarch became Owensbrook, the city owned by the Owen nobles."

"I have heard of Owensbrook...I believe my father may have had dealings there...and he still might; he's a powerful merchant of rather virtuous repute. I have never heard of Longmarch, though...please, tell me more."

As Willem divulged the nefarious acts practiced by the Owenses-enslaving servants, sending mercenaries to attack neighboring farms in order to buy up the land, poisoning crops and livestock to force new trade routes into and out of the city-Garrett furrowed his brow in wonder, confusion, and disgust.

"But Owensbrook was established nearly three hundred years ago, " he countered. "How could it be that the Dark One was active then?"

Willem nodded, slowly. "That is rightfully true, young man, so there is the possibility that the Dark One is an elf, and probably a high elf, if his magick is as powerful as I've heard, or perhaps he is not one person, but an entire cult of people, who take turns playing the role, thus prolonging the mystery surrounding the name."