The Warden Threat
~*~
Their conversation over breakfast confirmed Kwestor’s prediction; the prince did want to go see the Warden.
“How long will it take to get there?” the prince asked him.
“With or without the gond?”
“With.”
“About a month.”
“And without?”
“A couple to three weeks.”
“I don’t suppose we really need the beast anyway.”
“It does make carrying our supplies easier.”
“We don’t need to bring that much. We can make do.”
“I’m sure we can,” the scout agreed as he considered his aging feet and back. “The two of you shouldn’t have any trouble at all.”
“Good. We’ll sell the gond here, then.”
Wasted, the ranger thought to himself. The boy is oblivious. He concentrated on the remaining scrambled eggs on his plate. They had gone cold. He soon realized, so had his tea.
“If we travel light, we should be able to make it there in plenty of time,” Donald continued.
Plenty of time for what, the ranger wondered. “Personally, I think this is more a mission for your father,” he attempted. “We should go back, tell him about that scroll, and let him decide what to do next.”
“But that would take too much time! You see here.” He indicated a line in the translation. “It says, ‘when equal are the night and day just before you cut the hay.’ That must mean the autumnal equinox, and, if I’m not mistaken, that’s only a few weeks from now. If the Gotroxians really do intend to animate the Warden statue this year, then is when they would have to do it!”
“I see.” Kwestor slowly put down his cup of tepid tea. His assessment of the urgency of the situation provided a marked contrast to the expression of excitement worn by the prince. “So if we assume, for the moment, that this ancient scroll isn’t just a kid’s nursery rhyme or something like that, you are proposing that we travel to the site of possibly the most magical artifact ever made, at precisely the time that a nation, which may be contemplating a war against your father’s kingdom, is likely to be there in force with their most learned magicians, not to mention whatever troops and other functionaries that may be along for the ride, all with the intent of activating the latent magic to squash this kingdom and, quite possibly, us. Is that right?”
“Well, yes. Pretty much.”
“I thought so. And this strikes you as a good idea?”
“Listen, I wish we had more time, but I think fate has brought us here. Think about it. Here we are already halfway there at just the right time with just the right people.”
“The right people? An old scout, a boy prince, and a simple caravan guard? The right people would be a team of mages, a troop of cavalry on fully armored battle gonds, and the king.”
“No, don’t you see? That’s not right at all. What if they aren’t there? The Gotroxians, I mean. Maybe they plan to do it next year or maybe there’s something else important we don’t know.”
“I think that goes without saying,” the old ranger mumbled.
“So we are just the right people. A big, armed party from Westgrove entering Gotrox could start a war and make my father the aggressor. Just the three of us won’t be noticed at all. You are the best scout alive, and you can get us there. Muce is a brave and competent fighting man, and he will protect us along the way. And I, well, it says it takes a prince to activate the Warden, so there’s a chance that if the Gotroxians are not already there, I may be able to gain control of the magic before they do.”
“It also says the prince must be, oh, right, of course. Never mind.”
Donald apparently caught his meaning instantly and he blushed. The boy lacked experience in many areas.
After a brief moment of embarrassment, the young man continued. “Besides, as a prince of the realm I am sworn to protect and defend the kingdom to the best of my ability. This is something I must do for the sake of duty and honor.” He tilted his chin in what he probably thought presented an honorable pose. Kwestor remained unimpressed.
“Well, I don’t suppose I can argue with that. Doing stupid, dangerous things for duty and honor is, after all, a time tested role of nobility.”
“Come on, Kwestor. It will be fine. If the Gotroxians are there, we’ll just lie low and observe.”
“That would be better than charging in with your sword drawn. I will grant you that.”
“Uh, right. So that’s settled. We’ll sell the gond, buy some supplies, and be on the road early morning the day after tomorrow. We do need to know one other thing.”
“Just one?”
“Well, two really. Who are Inkhar and Lomar?”
The prince took a long delayed bite of his neglected breakfast. Muce, who remained silent for most of this conversation, chimed in. Kwestor noted that, for some reason, the notso’s teacup still steamed.
“Well, I’m not sure it’s who it means, but Inkhar and Lomar are the fairy spirits of play and work.”
Both of his companions gazed at Muce as if he had suddenly grown wings.
“How’s that?” Donald asked.
“You asked about Inkhar and Lomar and I said they were the fairy spirits of play and work.”
“What do you know about them?”
“Not much, really. I’m not very religious, but when my mom was working at the Lucky Lady…”
Oh, no. He’s going to tell us another story about his childhood, Kwestor said to himself.
Sure enough, Muce continued, “…there was this big picture on the wall near some of the card tables. Actually, it’s still there. It’s a pretty big painting, about as wide as a craps table and really colorful. It kind of brightened the place up—not that it isn’t already pretty cheerful. I mean, it is a place where people go to have fun.”
Kwestor began to interrupt, but Donald stopped him. “Let him talk,” he whispered.
And Muce did. “I think I was, oh, I don’t recall, really, pretty young, anyway. I used to hang around there a lot when my parents were working, and there was always that picture on the wall. On the left hand side was this little guy wearing like a red felt hat that was kind of cone shaped and had a little ball on the top. He was smiling and dancing in a field of flowers, and he looked so happy you wanted to dance along. You could almost hear the music he was dancing to just by standing there and looking up at it.
“Then on the other side, there was this other little guy who looked a lot like the first, except he was bent over hoeing a field, with sweat just dripping down his face. That side of the picture didn’t have as much color, but one thing sort of stood out because it did. The guy hoeing was wearing a red glove on his right hand exactly the same shade as the dancing person’s hat. He looked really determined and you could tell he was working hard.”
Muce paused in his narrative for a moment.
Kwestor caught a filmy glaze coming over the young fighter’s eyes and felt sure he was not remembering any particular fact or event but reliving the feeling of being there.
“So anyway, one day I asked my mom who those two guys were. Well, she didn’t know, but there was a cleric at the bar who overheard me asking, I guess, because he leaned down and told me they were the twin fairies, Inkhar and Lomar.
“He must have just come from a church service because he was all decked out in his clerical stuff—or maybe he was there collecting contributions. They do that sometimes. Priests and ministers and such—I’m not sure what the difference is. I think it depends on which god or goddess they serve.
“Fairies are the agents of the gods, you know. That’s what he said. They make sure things work the way they’re supposed to. I think he told me which god Inkhar and Lomar answered to, but I forgot. He said that Inkhar was the guardian of play and free time and doing what makes you happy, and he was dancing because the work was all done. Lomar, he said, was the guardian of work and duty and doing what needs to be done. He makes sure people remember to get their work
done because if they don’t, then they can’t have any play time.”
The young notso considered a moment. “That’s about all I know, I think.” He downed the last of his tea.
“Did he say what the glove was about,” asked the prince.
“Oh, yeah. He said that was a gift to Lomar from his brother Inkhar to make the work easier—I suppose so he wouldn’t get blisters.”
“Have you ever heard of these fairies, Kwestor?”
“No. But I’m really not very religious.”
“Neither is the king. My mother is a little bit, but she never pushed it because my father doesn’t have much use for it. I have to admit that I don’t know as much about the gods as I probably should.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” Kwestor droned. “If there are any gods, they don’t seem especially interested in us, so I can’t see why they’d object if we’re not overly interested in them.”
The prince laid his fork over the remnants of his meal with finality. “Well, perhaps. But it doesn’t matter right now. We have work to do. Muce, I’d like you to go out and get the supplies we’ll need. We all have our normal traveling gear, so I think just some things like food, matches, and things like that should do. Whatever you think we need.
“Kwestor,” the prince said, turning to the older man. “I’d like you to sell the gond. Get as much as you can for it. We may need the spending money.”
The ranger nodded. He expected the assignment.
“And there’s something I need to tend to do as well.”