The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 15.1: Inside the Purple Pony

Three days later, Fardinanth, Garin, Othon and Philburn rode through Aginadus’s gate along with Captain Naedros. Behind them clattered a Trader’s wagon from House Mycelere. Captain Naedros told Cal to arm himself and join the group, while Fardinanth rushed into the castle.

A few moments later, the red-headed guardsman hustled Bodelic through the courtyard with a hood drawn deep over the dwarf’s face. As Cal helped his small friend into the wagon, he caught sight of Lord Mycelere himself sitting on the bench inside. Before Cal could say a word, Captain Naedros told him quietly, “The Lords of the Dryhtern wish to know if their mines can be reopened. We will inspect Lord Brodeberg’s estates.”

From the tension in Naedros’s voice and the secrecy demanded by Lord Mycelere, Cal knew they had little trust in the Eight Lords of the Dryhtern. What treachery they feared he could not guess, but their precautions seemed vain to him.

Bodelic has traveled too far in the company of too many people for the secret to remain unknown. I just hope the crisis will not come until the Lords of Selinger are ready to handle the consequences.

The little party crossed the outlying manors gathered around the knees of the great City. A green and hilly land greeted them, with fields filled by fertile farms. The secretive group passed hordes of scythe-wielding serfs harvesting wheat, oats, barley and corn. A few peasants treated the strange procession with curious glances, but soon returned to their labor.

Small clumps of woodlands dotted the landscape, casting shadows across their path. Merry little streams ran through deep gullies. Long stone fences, built by the raw labor of serfs, marked many a field. Cal grimaced in sore memory when he saw them, because he had toiled many hard hours building similar barriers back in Dannik. Aldon believed a knight should spend as much time building his body as practicing his skills. As a result, Cal had spent his summers at hard labor rather than amusing himself in the hunt.

The party approached a small copse of elm trees that grew against a low outcrop of sandstone hills. A middle-aged man with a long chocolate-brown beard and a burnt orange velvet hat waited at the edge of the tree line, clad in a Lord’s rich attire.

As Captain Naedros approached Lord Brodeberg, he could hear a black-throated bird warble loud chipping noises at the amused Merchant. Glancing at Mycelere’s party, the Lord grinned and spoke to the bird, “No little vassal, I have a better treasure than honey to find today. And, a much better guide. Be off!”

The Captain, familiar with few bird species other than predatory hunters, gave a puzzled glance at the Lord; but he said nothing.

Brodeberg led the group of merchants to what appeared little more than a hole in the rock: more like a smugglers cave than the grand visions of glittering metal that Cal envisioned from the words ‘gold mine’. The party unmasked their lanterns, revealing the mine as a pragmatic shaft bereft of any beauty. The shaft descended in a steep slope into the rock until they came to an edge of a muddy pool gently pulsing from a current that sprang from the depths. Clearly, the mine could no longer be worked because it had flooded long ago.

Bodelic stepped forward and pulled a spade from beneath his robes. After digging a deep notch into the earth he stood and brushed the dirt from his robe. He extended both arms and jammed the end of his staff into the trench.

The Miner sent his thought into the earth using his staff as a prism for his awareness. Deep under the ground, stones and metals answered his call: sending minute tremors that his mind interpreted into a picture of the hidden vaults below. Long did he send his thought into the depths. Joy filled him because he could free his mind from the strange speeches between rulers of men, the games of warriors and the clamor from people he did not understand. Now, the Miner could focus on the slow geologic language that he alone knew. Here was his mastery and, at that moment, he cared little what others made of it. All that mattered was the power that filled him.