(9)

Saurus, Alaric, and Hadwin sat around an inn table that night, finding sleep to be impossible; Saurus would try again once he let his mind sort out all it had witnessed. The other people to remain awake were the masters, whom Saurus had ordered to take Aggie’s body into the cellar to be investigated. He doubted they’d arrive at any conclusion regarding her death other than simply dark magic. The room they resided in was small and reserved for only the most generous paying customers (at one time). Outside the room, Saurus’ captains slept with their respected soldiers and outside the sky continued to threaten another downpour but did not commit to such.

Saurus stroked the ball of his chin in deep thought while Alaric read another one of his books, no doubt relating somehow to this whole situation. Hadwin drank like Hadwin often did, but Saurus knew his thoughts were also…of Aggie.

“Contact Leeside, make them aware of what we know,” Saurus said. Alaric looked up earnestly pulling out another sending stone, the room was quiet and still. Alaric brought the stone up to his lips which turned lightning blue as the stone glowed. A minute passed before Alaric lowered the stone, letting out a sigh.

“The steward of Leeside is not answering,” He said, “I’ll send a raven.”

Each man knew what the other was thinking but did not say it. Saurus wondered if Leeside was in danger. They hadn’t received any ravens or messages from Leeside, but considering they had been marching in the forest for nearly a week on the edges of Empire land, it wasn’t surprising. Aggie’s words kept echoing back to fill his mind: ‘You’re marching the wrong way.’

“The Empire informed me they have not received any reports from Leeside since yesterday,” Alaric said adding to the concern on his father’s face. “It’s not uncommon, however, sending stones have been lost or broken before.”

Saurus knew his son was only trying to add hope to the situation but Saurus refused to believe the steward of Leeside would lose, or less likely, accidentally break the sending stone paired to them. The ‘man of many eyes’ was behind it; he just didn’t know, how. Saurus considered a moment. What could he do? March all the way back to Leeside? Disobey orders and abandon the town of Wetbrook to its fate. The conflict made his head swim.

“Send the raven,” Saurus agreed, “And prepare your horse.”

Hadwin looked up from his mug of ale, Alaric lingered in puzzled silence.

“If Leeside is in danger, I want you there,” Saurus added.

Alaric gripped the edges of the table and Hadwin leaned froward to add something but:

“I belong at your side father!” Alaric snapped.

“You belong where I say you belong, High Magus.”

Hadwin recalled his attempt to speak and only considered his Lord Commander’s order. The room fell silent once again. Alaric found interest in a piece of splinter on the table and picked at it, his face flushed.

“If this soldier of hers is already in Leeside then I want you there in great haste Alaric. Take the swiftest horse along with a few knights and ensure the safety of Duchess Lianne.”

“You ride into battle in two days…my Lord,” Alaric began, keeping his voice measured. “I ask not as your son, but as the only High Magus in this army. Let me stay.”

“That is why I want you there, son. You are a Sorcerer, who else is better equipped to deal with this ‘man of many eyes.’ For all we know he could be an assassin sent to murder the Duchess.”

Hadwin retreated to his drink, sipping it quietly so as to not disturb the already tense atmosphere.

“I won’t go.” Alaric asserted causing Hadwin to drop his mug loudly on the table. He had not spoken much compared to the last time they all sat around a table but now he said:

“That is your Lord Commander you deny.”

“I know,” said Alaric, “Help me save him.”

Saurus looked into his son’s eyes and saw they had begun to redden despite his best efforts to rule them. He was afraid, but not for himself, for him.

“She knew we’d be coming,” Alaric said. “I don’t think that man Aggie spoke of is a soldier or even an assassin. Aggie called him the weaver of will.”

The room filled with the noise of Hadwin filling his mug to the brim, he took a large swallow and shook his head, wishing he had been able to sleep. Alaric reached over and turned the book he had been reading so it faced his father. On the pages were tiny square-like symbols Saurus knew to be the dwarvish language, a language he’d never learned.

“The Weaver of Will is common amongst Dwarvish folklore. An agent born from darkness, made in the image of a Spider God.”

Hadwin blew his lips together, spraying spit everywhere.

“The dwarves say a lot of things, none of which is ever verified,” he took a swallow of ale and tapped his large index on the table in front of Saurus. “I wouldn’t take the words of any race that once claimed their king could shit gold ingots.”

Saurus wavered a hand meekly and turned to his son, still pinching at the ball of his chin in thought.

“During ‘The Great Convergence’ war, entire dwarvish societies perished Captain,” said Alaric indigently. “And many dwarves that resided underground at that time, all spoke of a Spider King, a Weaver of Will.”

Saurus leaned forward on the desk to stare fruitlessly at the pages of the dwarven book. Saurus had heard many tales, as many tales as there were dwarven wars throughout history. Dwarves on the surface were responsible for one out of every three wars a scholar had once told him. Each one usually due to the dwarven proclivity to attain more wealth. Dwarves that buried their cities deep within the earth were probably not different. He looked up at his son.

“And you think this is the same creature? The same creature that was in this ‘Convergence war’ you speak of?”

Alaric nodded. “The lore fits.”

“And according to these dwarves,” Hadwin said in a disbelieving tone. “What eventually happened to this Spider King?”

“Well, he was eventually defeated.”

“Ah-Ha, well how can it be the same one then?” pursued Hadwin. “And don’t tell me some God brought it back to life with an appetite for human flesh instead of dwarven.”

“Defeated Captain, not killed.” Remarked Alaric. Hadwin raised another finger, his mouth open to inhale a rendition when; at that moment, a knock resounded throughout the room. The three men looked at the door.

“Come in.” Ordered Saurus and inside shuffled an old man. He was woven in a woolen robe from neck to floor. A thin pink neck wormed its way from the fold in the hood, sprouting a balding head of white hair.

“My Lord,” the master bowed. “Captain, High Magus. I and the other masters have analyzed the body, and have found many things of interest,” his voice was breathy and each word longwinded. “Perhaps you would like to follow me down to the cellar?”

Saurus complied, and as he followed the master’s strenuous steps, he was not sure whether he wanted to add more ‘interest’ to an already redundant day.