The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour (19 page)

             
Wynn almost wished Faxon hadn’t called her to task. He wanted to offer Tiadaria his hand, to feel that shocking spark between them. That tingling pain that told him that she was far more than she let on. Tiadaria was a rogue mage. He had known it almost from the time they had met, certainly from the moment they had touched, and for once in his life he didn’t care about rules or regulations, or what was right and proper. He wanted to feel her hand on his, the link-shock dancing between them.

             
She vexed him something awful, but it was different from the teasing he had endured at the hands of his peers, or others. When she poked fun at him, or flayed him with her wit, he could look in her eyes and see her humor dancing there. It was just her way and he’d rather have her quick jokes and jabs than any other’s tender whispers and soft caresses.

             
What Tiadaria didn’t know, what she couldn’t know, was that she was the reason that Wynn hadn’t accepted censure as a viable option. Even now, as he lay looking up at the ceiling, he was terrified. He was scared of what they would face and even more scared of how he would react to it. He couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Tia again, but if it meant standing his ground in a fight, he just wasn’t sure he could do it. Faxon’s threat was a horrible contemplation in its own right, but at least it was a known quantity.

Wynn sighed. The coming dawn was beginning to chase night’s shadows from the ceiling. If he didn’t sleep now, it was going to be a very, very long day. He rolled over, willing his tumbled mind to settle, and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

             
The lower city was crowded during the day, but not nearly as packed as it had been the previous night. Faxon, upon returning from the meeting he wouldn’t talk about, had told them they were in for a special treat. They were going to the warehouse, he said, and no prodding would get him to give up any more detail. He seemed to be in a good enough mood though, so Tiadaria and Wynn opted to leave it alone.

             
Faxon seemed to know his way around the lower city quite well, a fact that Tia would remember to ask him about later. He navigated with the ease of a local. He didn’t get turned around in the various blind alleys and false roads they often encountered. Faxon lead them down wide roads and smaller byways and they finally emerged at the edge of a wide but slowly moving river.

             
Boats of every shape and size floated on the gently moving body of water. There were tiny little skiffs and massive trading vessels with three and four masts. Tiadaria was delighted. She had heard stories of great sailing ships and had sometimes seen them from afar on her duties in Dragonfell, but she had never been so close to them. She was happy to discover that Wynn was just as enamored with the boats as she was. He grabbed Tia’s hand and pulled her to the rope guarded pylons at the edge of the street, pointing at the ships with the brightest and most outlandishly colored sails.

             
Faxon joined them and Tia was pleased to see that he was smiling as well. This was the Faxon she was used to being around. The Faxon who was almost, but not quite, as good a mentor as the Captain had been. She reached for her collar, wondering if Royce would have enjoyed the floating chaos on the river as much as they did. He would have, she decided. If for no other reason than the fact that she found it so fascinating.

             
“There’s more to see, let’s go.” The elder quintessentialist set off down the narrow lane. It was lined with squat buildings on the left and the rope strung pilings on the right. Tia watched as gray birds wheeled and dove along the river, disappearing from view for a moment at impact and then climbing back up on powerful wings with tiny fish clutched in their beaks. She breathed deeply, relishing the crispness of the air and that fresh smell that only comes from a large body of water.

             
They turned a corner and were faced with a long building crouched at the edge of a busy wharf. The building was an enormous gray brick structure, two stories tall and easily as long as the main trade road in King’s Reach. Thick wood planks made up the roof and large windows were set into the upper floor. A massive set of doors, wide enough for two wagons to drive in abreast, were set on tracks that extended across the front of the building. The doors were pushed open to their full width allowing one to glimpse at the madness inside. People dashed to and fro, some laden with parcels, others moving flat trollies full of goods. The words Gunther’s Warehouse were stenciled over the door in peeling black paint.

             
As Faxon led them inside, Tiadaria could understand the need for so many windows. The light that shone in from them illuminated a vast space packed floor to ceiling with every type of good imaginable. There were pallets of flour sacks, barrels of ale, and bins of sweets. One entire section of wall was dedicated to hanks of rope of every length and diameter imaginable. Sailcloth hung in billowing folds from the highest rafters. There were weapons racks and cages of squawking birds and tiny chattering animals.

             
One particular display caught her eye. It was behind a long counter, mounted high up on the wall. Crafted from gold gilded glass, it contained a selection of dwarven hand cannons and one large, long barreled cannon. Tia had been so immersed in the wonder of the place that she had nearly lost track of Faxon and Wynn. She hastily weaved her way through the crowd, catching up with them just as Faxon approached the counter. A dwarf was perched on a crate behind the counter, bringing him level with Faxon’s line of sight.

             
The dwarf was a swarthy little man with a pock-marked face. His bulbous red nose extended out over a great bushy black beard and black eyes glittered beneath his fuzzy eyebrows. He had a battered digger's helmet crammed onto his head, its sides much scratched and dented. When he saw Faxon, his eyes lit up and a broad smile crept across his face. He leaned over the counter and took Faxon’s hand, pumping it up and down with both of his.

             
“Faxon, it’s good to see ye, lad. It’s been a long time, it has.” He peered at Wynn, then turned his shrewd gaze on Tia. She felt the weight of his gaze at the base of her spine, then the feeling passed and she shrugged it off. “I see ye brought friends to old Gunther’s Warehouse.”

             
“Gunther, this is Wynn, and Tiadaria.” Faxon nodded to each of them. Gunther shook Wynn’s hand and offered a bow to Tiadaria. His eyes lingered on her collar and then flicked to Faxon.

             
“She’s the one who wields my swords, aye?”

             
Faxon nodded. Gunther’s smile widened.

             
“Couldn’t have gone to a prettier girl. But ye’re not here to talk about my swordsmithing, aye? What can Gunther do for ye?”

             
“We need provisions and quickly. We need to head north before sunset.”

             
Gunther’s smile faded a trifle. He peered closely at Faxon. “Faxon, ye huntin, or being hunted?”

             
“Probably a little of both, which is why time is of the essence.”

             
Gunther nodded. “Oh aye, old Gunther’ll set ye right.” The dwarf put two stubby fingers in his mouth and issued such a piercing whistle that both Tia and Wynn winced.

             
A blur of forest green swung down from the upper platform behind the dwarf. The elvish woman landed lightly on the balls of her feet, bowing so deeply that Tia could see the half dozen gold rings that adorned the pointed tips of each ear. Her mud-brown hair was cropped short and spiked out at the top. When she smiled at them, her teeth glittered like pearls.

             
“This is Furia. She will get ye what ye need as quickly as you can give her a list.”

             
Gunther excused himself to attend to another customer and Faxon produced a long scroll of paper from inside his parchment. The elf scanned the paper, her oval eyes widening slightly at some of the entries on the list. Furia deftly rolled the list into a tight tube and handed it back to Faxon, who looked perplexed.

             
“You can hold on to this,” he said, offering her the list.

             
“No need,” she replied. Her voice was soft and gentle as a summer shower. “I know what you need.”

             
“How?” Faxon’s skepticism was plentiful and plainly apparent.

             
“Here,” she said, tapping her temple. She smiled. Furia grabbed the rope she had swung down on and briskly shimmied to the top of the platform.

             
Watching her move among the pallets and sacks, barrels and bags, was like watching an exceptionally skilled dancer execute an arrangement written for one. She dodged around others working from the same pallets, plucking items from cases, hangers, and bins and tossing them down to Faxon and the others. As she continued her lithe performance among the rafters, the pile of supplies and provisions grew until Tiadaria wondered how they were going to carry everything they apparently needed.

             
A moment after that worry entered Tia’s mind, Furia leapt off the platform above, executed an incredible somersault in midair, and landed on her feet beside them. She plucked a sheet of paper from the counter, took a pencil from behind her ear, and began tallying their purchases.

             
Wynn looked at Tia with raised eyebrows and she just shrugged. The day had been full of surprises. That was for certain. After Furia had written out their bill of sale, she handed it to Faxon.

             
“A pleasure meeting all of you, come again any time.” With that, she was gone, swinging up into the rafters from her line and surveying the warehouse floor for another client to assist.

             
Gunther hopped from crate to crate behind the counter, coming to where they were still standing, dumbstruck. He held out his hand for the bill of sale, snapping his pudgy fingers to get Faxon’s attention when he took too long.

             
“Best puller I’ve ever had,” he said as he perused the sheet of paper. “I told ye that ye’d be set in no time.”

             
“And you delivered, as always, Gunther. What’s the damage?” Faxon pulled a heavily laden purse from inside his robes. The dwarf said something in a language that sounded like a rock slide inside a bass drum. Tia was surprised to hear Faxon reply in kind.

             
Wynn leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “They’re dickering. Its ancient dwarven. I don’t know enough to understand all of it, but Faxon’s driving a hard bargain.”

             
The rumbling back-and-forth exchange continued for several minutes until the dwarf thrust out his hand and Faxon took it, pumping it three times.

             
“Well bargained, lad,” Gunther said with a shake of his head. “I never should have taught ye that.”

             
Faxon smiled. “We all have our vices, Gunther.” He took several large gold crowns from his purse and laid them on the table. From inside his robe, he added a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. The dwarf made the package disappear under the counter, then picked up the coins and slipped them in a pocket.

             
“A pleasure,” Gunther said with a smile. “Take care of yeself, lad. And your friends.” He moved off down the counter.

Faxon turned to Tia and Wynn.
“Let’s get packed up and on the road. I want to be beyond Overwatch by nightfall.”

             
Faxon rooted around in the pile of supplies and produced three large travel packs of fine leather. The supplies disappeared into the packs in relatively short order and Faxon ushered them outside. As Tia hefted her pack, she wondered at how light it was and how easily it conformed to her back and shoulders. These weren’t just ordinary packs. They had to be enchanted.

             
There was no way the coins that Faxon had given to Gunther could have accounted for the massive amount of provisions they had purchased. Tia had been curious about what was in the paper-wrapped package before. Now she was dying of curiosity. Faxon caught her eye.

             
“Yes, they’re enchanted. No, I’m not telling you what was in the package. Let’s go.”

             
Tia sulked the entire way back to the inn, where she changed into her armor and hung her sword belt from her hips, well below the pack. Wynn traded his travel clothes for robes and they set out into the rapidly aging day.

The road leading out of Overwatch took them around the greater bulk of the city and up to the crest of a rise that was nearly as high as the upper level of the city. Looking down, it was easy to understand why the marvelous place was called Overwatch. From the upper levels of the city, especially from the highest towers that lined the cliff-side over the lower city, one could easily see the entire river valley and a good stretch of the land beyond. They passed through the city gates, which were well guarded by mercenaries
, and out onto the road that led north.