Here are two chapters from Talon and The Dragons of Crinnelia. Chapter one follows here, and the link to chapter two will be at the end of this page. ENJOY!
Talon sat high on his horse. His sword hung at his side. He felt tired beyond exhaustion. The sun and the weight of his armor had taken their toll. The idea of leaving the battlefield in full armor had been an egotistical one, and a full day's ride had beaten his pride to a pulp. This was surely not helping his battle-bruised limbs. His helmet, now bumping on the horse's rump, had been removed earlier, allowing the breeze to dry the sweat from the short-trimmed black hair. The hard, cold eyes seemed out of place in the boyish face. Dust and dried blood did not hide the lack of beard on the soft cheeks.
The road became congested at Arklin's gates. News of the battle's end had traveled fast. As Talon rode up to the battered gates he noticed that the guards were not armed, another sign that words travel faster than horses.
Arklin looked like a dozen other villages lining the Trade Road. Ten or so two-story buildings were widely spaced on either side of a rutted dirt street. People competed with horses and wagons along the street, as well as dogs, goats, chickens and the occasional pig. Street vendors shouted above all the noise to catch the attention of passersby. Faded wood signs swung noisily above storefronts. Talon knew these bustling streets had been deserted only the day before with the windows boarded up against the possibility that the Duke's war would spill into the town. Shops were now filled with patrons who had been afraid to leave their farms.
Talon located the stables at the edge of town. He dismounted and pulled off his saddlebag. He gave his horse a pat and scratched its ear. "Time for a rest boy, for both of us." A weary stableboy led the horse into the stable.
Talon slung the saddlebags over one shoulder and walked into town. The dry dirt street muffled the sound of Talon's armored boots. He was oblivious of his surroundings; one town looked much like another. The townsfolk were equally oblivious of Talon; one soldier looked much like another, and there were plenty of them in town this evening.
The local inn was easily found; the noise from its tavern filled the street. After securing a room and changing out of his armor, Talon went in search of a hot meal. When he stepped into the crowded tavern several of his fellow soldiers acknowledged him. But they did not ask Talon to join their table. Talon was not part of their group. It was not his youth that separated him, but his abilities. At fifteen, Talon was ten years younger than most of the men he fought beside, though he was far superior as swordsman. He parried and thrust at just the right moment to defeat his opponents. Talon also had an uncanny ability to know where and when the enemy would attack. This elevated him quickly through the ranks to Lead Strategist of Count Elanza's army. This did not sit well with many of the generals. His fellow soldiers appreciated his talents, but were suspicious of them as well. So Talon sat alone in the dark isolated corner. The barmaid brought him a mug of mulled cider.
A deep swallow of the warm, spiced drink helped to ease the tension of the day. The jovial atmosphere around him could not relieve the sense of emptiness he felt. The tedious, petty war between Count Elanza and Duke Nidral had occupied Talon's life for the past year. It had only been settled when Duke Nidral's son had come to the realization that his future workforce was being cut to ribbons. With a little cutting of his own, the son inherited the family title and quickly ended the war. The count disbanded his army and Talon was now out of a job.
The war earnings Talon had been given would only support him for a few months and he was uncertain where he would go from here. There was no place for him at home, his father had been very clear about his objections to Talon's choice to train as a soldier rather than apprentice to a tradesman in town. He had no interest in finding work in a town like Arklin. His brilliance as a tactician could secure him a post in any army, but his taste for war had soured and he knew that he didn't want to spend his life moving from battle to battle. Was there anything else ahead for him? He sighed heavily.
"Life can't be that grim."
Talon pulled his knife, surprised at being caught unaware. An old man sat down in the empty chair across the table. He had neither the look of a traveler nor thief. Perhaps a beggar, his ragged clothes and unwashed appearance pointed in that direction. But he was too bold, and his bright blue eyes belied a destitute lifestyle. Just one of the townsfolk, he looked harmless enough; Talon laid the knife on the table and leaned over his mug. "Go away, old man; I'm in no mood for conversation."
"No?" A grin spread lines and furrows across the ancient face. "You seem to be the only one here tonight who isn't. I haven't heard this many war stories since the Earl of Chancely led his assault on Dalvian mines. A thousand of Chancely's men were lost in the endless caverns. The Dalvians hid in the mud and ambushed the unwitting soldiers. It was rather ingenious of Chancely to flood the mines. I heard that the gold they removed later filled fifty wagons. Not since then has a war-prize been so high. A full purse seems to bring out the storyteller in your breed."
Talon grunted.
"Quiet type, huh? I like that. Blood and dismemberment doesn't appeal to me as much as it used to, and one despot is much like another after a few centuries. Now a well-plotted intrigue, that makes for interesting conversation. I could talk to a spy for hours, and a talkative chambermaid is a wealth of scandalous stories. Barbers, now there's someone who could talk for hours---"
"How could he ever get a word in? You haven't taken a breath since you sat down." Talon drained his mug and waved for the barmaid to bring him another.
"I tend to do that, you know. I don't get out as much as I should, and the chance of getting some decent human contact tends to bring out the chatter. Not that I mind being left alone, no. Used to be a time when I couldn't get a minute of peace, people dropping by at all hours, no consideration about privacy or property. Just walk right in. Demanding, and pleading, wanting me to fix this or cure that, couldn't get a decent night's sleep. No consideration at all. Why, I once had a whole family camp out on my doorstep, and they wouldn't leave until I cured the baby of whooping croup. Then one day some farmer got a run of bad luck, you know; drought, locust, horse went lame, wife gave birth to triplet girls, that sort of thing -- well it all got blamed on me. Had to leave town. Found a nice spot up in the woods though, nice and quiet. I don't seem to have any trouble sleeping any more, nod off at the drop of a hat, now. Why just last night…"
"Find someone else to bore with your stories, old man, I'm not interested." Talon turned away from the table.
The old man seemed unflustered, "A bit cynical for your age, aren't you? When did they start using babes in battle?" Before Talon could defend himself the old man stood up. "Well, when you get a break in your important schedule, and you're ready for a new job, you might be interested in this 'boring old man'."
Before Talon knew it, he was alone. "Quick for his age," Talon thought. He noticed a folded piece of paper on the table where his guest had been sitting. Talon picked up the paper and unfolded it. A bright gold coin lay in its center. "All right, now you have my attention." Talon looked at the paper; some directions had been neatly printed on one side. He was tempted to throw the paper in the fire, but he was intrigued. What could the shabby old man want with a young soldier? He stuffed the paper and the coin into a pocket and went up to his room.
The next morning dawned cold and dreary. The prospects for an enjoyable, relaxing day were nonexistent. Talon could find no reason to hang around town and decided to visit the curious old man. He saddled his horse and headed out of town. The dirt road ended abruptly at the edge of a flower filled meadow. It was as if an invisible line had been drawn, saying, "Here, but no further". Talon looked across the meadow and toward the far tree line, and saw no sign of a cottage. There were no signs of a path through the flowers and no smoke from a fireplace. Talon began to think that he had taken a wrong turn.
Once again he looked at the directions he had been given. Urging his horse on, Talon crossed the meadow, found the small brook as described, and followed it to the treeline. Not until he stood directly in front of the trees did Talon see a cave opening. It was so perfectly hidden in the foliage he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking so closely. He was quickly coming to the realization that there was more to the old man than he had thought. Someone only hid when there was something to hide.
Talon tied his horse to a tree, not too close to the entrance of the cave. He wanted to make a quiet entrance. Vines hung down over much of the opening. Talon pulled them back slightly and peered into the darkness. The entrance of the cave was empty, dimly lit by the outside sunlight he let in. Cautiously, he entered. He paused to let his eyes become accustomed to the darkness.
As Talon walked further into the cave he noticed it didn't have the usual damp, musty feel he expected. It was quite dry and smelled of ginger cakes and fresh cut pine. The floor was well swept, and the stalactites were trimmed close to the ceiling. Talon moved slowly in the dim light.
As he progressed toward the back of the cave, Talon's eyes became used to the darkness. He noticed odd drawings on the walls, swirling geometric shapes, what he assumed was words in some unknown language, and unusual animals. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. This place made him nervous. Talon decided that he didn't want to look too closely at the peculiarly shaped piles along the outer walls, a few were moving. He moved quickly forward. Something brushed his leg and he jumped back, drawing his knife.
A thin line of light could be seen ahead. As he drew closer, Talon saw two blankets on either side of a cavern opening. He peered through. The light made him squint for a moment. Within he saw the old man bent over something on a table, an extraordinarily fat cat was curled on a chair, and a smaller cat wove itself in and out of the man's legs. There was no sign of anyone else in the cave.
"Don't stand there." The voice startled him. "It is perfectly safe, no ambushes, or lurking enemies."
Talon parted the blankets and entered into the room. The old man said nothing else to him, so he filled the silence by looking around. The first peculiarity that struck him was the cavern seemed too large, and he couldn't see the ceiling at all. The fire, which appeared to be the only source of light in the room, could never have given off the amount of light that illuminated the place. Where was the rest of the light coming from? An acrid odor drifted from a large slab workbench where a bowl of green slime bubbled without help from a flame.
A soft rubbing around his boots brought Talon's attention to his feet. The smaller of the two cats had come to greet him. Talon stepped around the ball of fluff toward the old man, who still hadn't turned around. When he came up beside him Talon saw that the old fellow was busily kneading bread dough. Talon took this time to study the old man. He was drawn to the brightness of the old man's eyes; they didn't fit in with the age implied by the white hair and beard. Below the sharp eyes was a long pointy nose that stuck out over a bushy mustache. If a chin could be seen under the long beard, Talon was sure it would rival the sharpness of the nose. Any skin not covered with unkept hair was a maze of fine wrinkles. Talon would have expected a man of such apparent antiquity to be slow moving and dull. But the quickness of the leathery hands in the dough cautioned Talon against making assumptions about this man.
"Well, here I am. Do you have a job for me?" Talon wanted this meeting to be as brief as possible. He was beginning to regret coming at all.
The old man took his time answering. He seemed more concerned about the shape of his loaf. Once he had formed it just right and placed it by the fire, he wiped off his hands and sized up the young man before him. "Aren't you a bit young to be fighting in a war?" The old man poured two mugs of dark warm fluid from a blackened pot and handed one to Talon.
Talon sipped the drink, found it flavorful and took a larger swallow. "How old do you have to be to know injustice when you see it?" The old man didn't look impressed with Talon's answer. "Second sons are expendable and the generals didn't ask for my age."
Picking up the large cat, the old man sat near the fire and motioned for Talon to join him. "Probably wondering what an old man like me would want to hire a soldier for."
Talon shrugged.
"I have a proposition for you. I need someone to go to Precanlin, pick up a package and bring it back." He didn't look at Talon when he spoke, but gazed into the flames.
Talon rose, "I am not an errand boy." He turned to leave.
The immense cat hissed at Talon's rudeness.
"Be polite, Mamet, the boy may leave anytime he wishes." The old man looked up at Talon, "This is not just an errand. It is a…a mission, or you can think of it that way if you wish." He took a labored breath. "I am growing old, too old some would say. The package I need you to retrieve is an item of great importance. I can't go myself, so I need to have someone go in my stead." He leaned over and poked the bread.
"Why me? There are plenty who would gladly take the job."
The old man laughed, "Do you have somewhere else to be? A better job waiting for you?"
Talon remembered his own bleak thoughts. He considered the old man's offer; it seemed an easy enough task, one with little risk. But there was his pride to think of, this wasn't a job for a soldier coming from a victorious war. This was something a servant would do. On the other hand, he didn't have any plans. At least it was something to consider. He moved to the fire and leaned against the mantle. "I'm listening."
The old man nodded. He stood and went to the workbench when he noticed the green slime had stopped bubbling. He poured it into a glass bottle and put a stopper in it. After consulting a large book, the old man picked leaves from the various herb pots shelved above the bench and dropped them into a mortar. With quick practiced movements they were crushed and poured into a small satin bag. Talon watched with interest as cobwebs were collected, socks folded, notes scribbled and ashes swept from the hearth. The old man didn't seem to care that Talon was waiting.
When the smell of the bread indicated it was finished baking the old man pulled it from the hearth and took it to the table. He refilled Talon's cup and sat down. Talon joined him. "My name is Olwin of Carthis; I am…an eccentric old man who lives alone, as you see. My health and certain…obligations require that I not leave here. I need someone I can trust to bring me a special pair of rings that are being held for me by a friend. That someone is you." He drank from his mug. "You are younger than I thought, but this may work well in my favor. Few would suspect you of being anything more than an errand boy and that would work in your favor."
Talon nodded. "I may be young, but I've got enough experience for twice my age." The tone in his voice told Olwin that this wasn't a boast.
"Then I'll try not to treat you like a young cub." Olwin took a large knife and cut into the warm bread. Buttering it, he handed the slice to Talon. "Are you interested?" He looked into Talon's eyes, ready to catch any hint of doubt in them.
Talon nodded, fascinated by the undercurrent of intrigue.
"You will leave today, taking only the supplies I give you. Travel on foot to Precanlin, and retrieve the package from Marcus, the Rug Maker, and return before the next full moon." Olwin paused and Talon nodded. "I will pay you 20 gold-crowns." Talon showed no hint of surprise at the amount mentioned. "Do you accept?"
Talon took his time answering. There was nothing unacceptable with the task, but it was not his habit to rush into things. Being on foot would fit in with the role of being a simple errand boy, even if it took longer. He would feel naked without his sword, but then he had other abilities to rely on. The money would come in handy. Talon cut another piece of bread, buttered it generously, and took his time eating it in silence.
Olwin seemed unconcerned about the delay to the point of leaving the table to feed chunks of bread to his cats.
Talon finished his bread. "I find your proposition intriguing. I accept the job."
Olwin nodded approvingly and went to a large trunk that stood by itself in a corner. A sweep of his hand displaced a napping cat. He mumbled to himself as he rummaged around. Bits and pieces were tossed out. After some minutes there was a pleased "ah-ha", and the old man rose from his scavenging, holding a long narrow pouch. He picked up a well-worn pack and slipped the pouch into it, and then began stuffing the pack with the flotsam that lay on the floor around him. He returned to the table and passed the pack to Talon. He then went to a cluttered workbench and took a knife from under a pile of books. He mumbled something then returned and handed the knife to Talon. "Everything you will need is in here. You may take whatever food you find necessary from my stores. If you leave right away you should be able to make ten miles before nightfall. I advise you to tell no one about your mission, I have a few enemies that would enjoy detaining you." The old man turned away and busied himself at his workbench.
Talon felt he had been dismissed. He gathered a few loaves of bread, vegetables, cheese and a jug of cider, slung the pack onto his back and left.
Outside the cave he took his horse and walked back toward town. Talon paid off the innkeeper and arranged to have his horse stabled near-by. Judging by the sun, he did indeed have enough light to make it ten miles before nightfall. Talon walked out of town.