The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 9.5: Into the Forest

That evening, after the caravan had made camp, a young timid apprentice named Styrian approached Cal. “Sir, the Trader would like you to join him for dinner in his wagon tonight.”

He quizically looked at the apprentice, while Aubert chuckled. “Remember who your friends were lad, when you get back.”

The thin teenager led Cal to the Trader’s wagon even though an escort was hardly necessary. Styrian would have been nearly the same height as Cal if he did not slouch as he walked. As they covered the short distance to the wagon, the skinny teenager kept glancing back at the hulking Cal, the apprentice’s eyes fixed on the sword-hilt bobbing next to his right ear.

Styrian rapped sharply on the wagon’s back end. The carved wooden door popped open and the apprentice gestured that Cal should climb into the wagon. A single oil lantern shed dim light through the cramped interior. He strained to make out the details of the close space. Overstuffed shelves, crammed with scrolls and ledgers, lined the wall. At the far end, toward the “front” of the wagon, resided a small bed. A narrow table, hewn from rough wood, dominated the center of the room. Gellan Ware sat at the far end; he loomed over the enclosure like a bear in his den, clad in a loose cloak of brown wool.

Toward the middle of the table sat the short, squat apparition that Cal had spied a few nights before. This mysterious figure, catching Cal’s inquiring look, glanced at the Trader. Gellan Ware nodded in response. The stranger pulled back his hood, revealing his blunt dwarvish features.

Dwarves! He intends to sell elenium to dwarves.

Dwarves were the ancient enemy that had shattered the great Thorandian Empire, triggering long decades of destructive war as the survivors contested for dominance. Crumbling manuscripts told of diminutive warriors who fought with crazed abandon, impervious to pain. On long winter evenings, farmers whispered tales of dwarvish warlocks who commanded the earth to swallow entire armies of men. Dwarves were the bane of all mankind.

And Gellan Ware has a dwarf sitting at his table, ready to do his bidding.

“Traitor! How can you sell elenium to them?”

The Trader snorted. “The same way I sell anything.”

Before the outraged young man could respond, the Trader added, “You disappoint me, boy. How is such a tiresome question. Why is much more interesting.”

Cal fumed with anger, unable to shape a coherent response.

“And even that answer is predictable. I am trading the bows for the same reason any man trades a rare and precious good: for something that I value even more.”

I should cut down this degenerate merchant right now.

Cal’s sword arm ached to follow this impulse, but Aldon’s thorough training forced him to access his surroundings before pulling his weapon.

He would not have invited me into his lair and confessed such a thing, without some reason to believe he will walk away from the encounter. Find the ambush before you act.

The impetuous squire could not hide his disgust. “What might that be?”

A small measure of tension drained from the Trader’s pudgy, yet tightly-wound body. Allowing relief to creep into his voice, Gellan Ware asked, “You do know why Selinger became such a wealthy city, do you not?”

Cal promptly answered, “Gold, of course.” For a moment, he felt like he sat in the chapel of his father’s keep, listening to another lecture from Immel.

The Trader treated the young man with a well-oiled smile, “Ah yes, gold.”

The older man continued, “You are, of course, correct. Selinger used to sit just north of what were the richest mines in the Thorandian Empire. And, even better, those mines lie rather close to the sea—with a convenient, and very fast, river to power drilling machines.”