Borderlines: Chapter One

Borderlines: Chapter One

From Dangardidun of Redfill's Libram...

The seasons move on and now it is what the surface-dwellers call Spring: they see it as the renewal of life. But we who dwell near the center of the world and can always hear its heartbeat know better. Life is a continuation rather than a renewal; very similar to what I am undergoing at present. I have been at Daggercleft Landentry for little more than a month now. Cail Walkert, my one true friend among the surface-dwellers, has been here longer. Nevertheless, a happy meeting of the two of us, wedged in grim tidings. Now I have picked up the heartbeat of Daggercleft and it troubles me. Much as a trapdoor spider lurks just below the surface of an otherwise placid field, Daggercleft appears to be a smartly run station of the Majestic Countryline Guards--but there is something wrong beneath this surface appearance. Cail senses it too. Yet there is nothing I can directly mine to the open. So I wait with the patience of my kin to allow such trouble to reveal itself. In this case I trust it happens before it is too late to redress the balance...

"Shift briefing in a tenth heartbeat! Shift briefing in a tenth heartbeat!" The call trembled the earthen walls of Daggercleft's barracks, stirring dust. Dangardidun quickly blew some of it from the pages of his journal lest the dust settle permanently upon the fresh ink.

Dangardidun shook his head as he closed the journal and stored it carefully away. The walls of the barracks seemed sturdy enough: wooden frame slathered thickly with good clay, hardened to a good thickness. Yet it almost seemed as if Senior Guard Insqit deigned to fill the walls with his voice: no doubt he'd found a way to do just that. Rumor had it that the walls were ensorcelled for this purpose and Dangardidun was hard pressed to dispute it.

Standing, Dangardidun looked down to behold the condition of his uniform: dark blue like the other guards of his rank--nearly black in bright sunlight, save that it was cut for one of smallest stature. Only those of higher rank--and special talents--wore the lighter colors; thus there was often confusion among the populace between the uniform colors worn by aquamancers, and those worn by the High Guards. Dangardidun touched the embossed patch sewn upon his uniform: a gold shield over a three masted merchant vessel, the symbol of the Majestic Countryline Guards.

He knew the others--save Cail and the aquamancer, Velenoth--regarded him with little trust. Dangardidun could hardly fault their unease about him; he was, after all, of a race secretive to them. His kind, dwarven and black-haired, lived deep into the earth; rarely were they seen by surface-dwellers. Many tales--mostly untrue--went uncontested by his kin: that they were thieves, takers of babes, cannibals. All manner of untruths came to him in barely heard whispers, as if response might be provoked from him. Yet Dangardidun suffered all, his lips clamped tightly shut, gaze trained intently upon his varied tasks. And so the others tolerated him and he accepted their tolerance gladly--and quietly. For such was all that his kind could expect from surface-dwellers; yet sometimes he did hope for more. He hoped, one day, that tolerance would turn into respect--and that such would be not be long in coming to him.

When he heard the call for assembly come once again, Dangardidun rushed to follow the others as they filed through the wide entrance of the barracks and into the sunlight. As was his way, Dangardidun waited to bring up the rear, mindful that the others towered over him so and he did not wish to be trampled.

Outside he shivered as the brilliant sunshine hit his eyes. After a month of such exposure, Dangardidun was still unused to it, though he tried not to squint. He felt stinging moisture, gritty as sand, form at the corners of his eyes but he ignored it, focusing instead on spotting Cail among the other guardsmen.

Dangardidun felt a light tap upon his shoulder and he turned to look up at Cail Walkert's grinning face.

The son of an dictatorial candle maker who expected his son to follow in his footsteps, Cail had joined the Majestic Countryline Guards to escape a drab heritage, only to discover, as others had, that while the job held some danger, there seemed little adventure. Cail's square-jawed face was kept clean-shaven (facial hair irritated his skin, Dangardidun was told) and his coarse brown hair kept close-cropped. Despite Cail's slow drawl--which others mistook as evidence of an equally torpid mind--Dangardidun discovered a quick, keen mind instead. To Dangardidun's chagrin at times, though, Cail was often given to jumping to conclusions, which, of course, tended to immerse the young guardsman in trouble; such behavior Dangardidun attributed to the impatience of youth. Cail had little difficulty in accepting authority, so long as it did not infringe upon his own ethical code. Superiors whom Cail would distrust--or didn't like--often would receive a cold shoulder and it was Dangardidun's chore to forever make excuses for his friend's recalcitrance.

"Have you any ideas," Cail asked Dangardidun as they moved into formation, "as to what this briefing is about?" For the dwarf, Cail's deep voice was soothing to his ears.

"Of such I have little idea, my friend," Dangardidun said, pausing to sniff at the air. "I doubt it has anything to do with the weather for nothing smells amiss to me. I distrust that Senior Guard Insqit will waste little time in enlightening us--we should be thankful he is not a glib man."

Cail loosed a quick snort as they began to file into the briefing building--a structure composed of the same dark wood as the barracks, but smaller in size. Dangardidun sneezed quietly behind his hand as they entered: the musty scent which only he could smell always produced this annoying reaction, he prayed he would never be teased about it.

Dangardidun sneezed once more and felt a hand at his back steering him to a seat near the middle of the large hall. He and Cail sat upon a long wooden bench, taking care not to be impaled by stray splinters--Dangardidun himself had more than a few needles of wood still worming their way from his flesh.

Suddenly the chattering amongst the guardsmen began to ebb as Senior Guard Insqit strode to the front of the hall. He wore a sea-green uniform, a shade darker than the pale blue-green of a High Guard. The Senior Guard was a tall raw-boned man: one who looked to have attained his rank through hard work, rather than born privilege. His bald uncovered head was suntanned to a deep brown and his gimlet eyes heavily red-veined and piercing. His seamed face appeared not to have been the product of age, but of exposure to the elements, a fact which he did much to impart upon his guardsmen.

"Calm seas and full sails, Guardsmen," the Senior Guard announced in his booming monotone. Dangardidun's heart started a little when Insqit's glance touched him briefly, then calmed as the glance traveled along the line of men. He hated being noticed, and especially by superiors. "I have just received word earlier this day that the Aldasian Navy had caught two merchantmen late yesterday. Their cargo appeared to be fish," Insqit's right eyebrow cocked. "Such discovery alone should be reason for a full search--ah, but it gets better. The squabs discovered the merchantmen's holds were double-sided: cunningly set into their hulls." Pausing dramatically, he added, "And within the second holds, slaves. Each slave was drunk senseless, the fumes from their breath alone could topple someone unused to the stuff."

Dangardidun sneaked a sidelong glance at Cail. The young guardsman stared fixedly at the Senior Guard, a thin hard smile stretching his lips. Adventure is what he craves, the dwarf worried. And such news sounds to his liking, surely.

Insqit continued on. "Furthermore, each slave had been carefully rubbed over with fish oil--for obvious reasons. Much time and trouble went into this operation. Had it not been for their questionable cargo, those merchantmen might have delivered their secret lading." The Senior Guard paused once more, his gaze grown stern and arms crossed firmly upon his chest. "It is important that you pay attention to the people who pass through our borders. Not only the obvious must you take notice, the chaffed wrists and meek demeanor, but more subtle clues--for it is well--likely that they may be...drugged as well."

From the corner of his eye Dangardidun watched as Cail held his hand aloft. "I would have a question, Senior Guard."

Insqit nodded for Cail to continue. "Offer it, then."

"Aye, Senior Guard. What did the captain of the vessel say when the slaves were discovered within his craft?"

"Nothing, by the black waves," Insqit grimaced. "The captain and his crew claimed ignorance of the slaves. This crime has no readily apparent villain, for there is no way to implicate the captain or the sailors. Their stories, unfortunately, support each other. It is doubtless they had prepared their stories in advance, but there is no hard evidence to prove guilt on their part."

Suddenly the Senior Guard stiffened as if just remembering something of great importance. "Where is the aquamancer?" he blurted, his reddened gaze seeking an answer from the faces assembled before him. When no answer came to him, he turned his gaze squarely upon Dangardidun. "Walkert, you and the dwarf," Dangardidun felt his spine go taut at the rude reference, "will fetch Velenoth and bring him to me--sober."

"Yes Sir," Cail answered for the both of them. In his friend's voice Dangardidun felt the slight tremble of rage: rage for the veiled insult to Dangardidun and the lack of power to defend him against such insults. Dangardidun did not speak until they had taken their leave of the hall.

###

"Our new aquamancer," Dangardidun began, brushing at an already spotless sleeve, "is trying his best to earn himself a place on Insqit's black list."

They were now out in the sunlight again and walking toward Velenoth's blue varnished cottage. It was common for aquamancers to be given their own abode, for it was said that their spell energy tended to become dampened when surrounded by so many others in close confines. Dangardidun suspected that it had more to do with the mystery surrounding an aquamancer's power to manipulate water: that a vengeful aquamancer might easily smother an enemy while he slept. Because of this, none of the other guards felt any resentment toward the aquamancer's private living quarters--and for good reason.

Cail nodded grimly. "That's for certain. Rumor has it that Velenoth was not overjoyed to be assigned to Daggercleft, hence his lack of enthusiasm."

"Well," Dangardidun replied, wincing a little, "if the rumors are correct, then Velenoth could be the greatest consistent threat to our mission here. A station without a good, reliable aquamancer is a station without a good, reliable weapon. The pirates will likely surmise this and exploit it to their heart's content and Daggercleft will become the laughingstock of all Aldasia--gods, even through all of Ryndorhn and beyond! And it isn't easy to coax aquamancers from Shammerkath to do such duty, which is likely the reason Velenoth has been given much leeway of late." Then, shaking his head, added, "Unfortunately, rumors are much like a merchant's wares: their dependability rests on the maker. Have you any idea who originated this questionable morsel of information?"

"Guardsman Monhajer told me of this--but I am not sure if it was he who began the rumor. He is well known as a carrier of such gossip whether valid or not."

Dangardidun bunched his lips together and frowned. "Given that our aquamancer has been tardy for several briefings of late, perhaps this information may not be idle gossip. If such is indeed true of Velenoth, then we must confront him on it soon, before assignments are compromised."

As they reached the doorway of Velenoth's quarters, Cail reached a hand down to grasp Dangardidun's shoulder. "Just be careful of what you say to Velenoth--I don't want to be turned into a flying fish, or worse."

Dangardidun answered his friend by giving him the customary salute: three fingers splayed over his heart and drawn to point at Cail. Dangardidun executed the salute in a lazy manner to let his friend know of his true feelings. He was empathic enough to sense when the aquamancer might bristle at a comment--and he knew that Velenoth was not apt to waste spell energy in settling an argument by turning a fellow guardsman into a fish!

Cail rapped soundly upon the bronze-edged hardwood door. "Seacaster Velenoth, are you there? This is Guardsman Walkert. I have been instructed to inform you that a briefing is in progress and your presence is...requested...uh...required by Senior Guard Insqit."

Dangardidun looked up at Cail. "He's in there. Knock again."

Cail turned his knuckles away and pounded hard with side of his palm. When there was no response, he moaned, "Oh shipwrecks, here's hoping this door isn't spellwarded." Taking a deep breath, Cail placed his hand upon the doorknob and turned it carefully.

The strong, sour stench of ale assaulted Dangardidun's sensitive nostrils as he and Cail strode into Velenoth's quarters. Dangardidun watched as Cail, not a heavy drinker himself, staggered a little at the heavy smell, the guardsman's hand reaching for the back of a chair to steady himself. With the other arm, Cail pressed the fabric of his uniform against his nose. Dangardidun did the same, for he felt his own brain begin to reel within his skull.

The room was in absolute disarray. Clothing, books, and other items Dangardidun could not identify lay strewn upon the floor. The only oasis in this sea of chaos was the central table. Made of polished, unadorned teak, the table held only a single object upon it: a round fishbowl. Within the fishbowl swam a brightly colored fish, its long and diaphanous fins and tail waving gently in its wake.

Velenoth sat at the table, his white-blond hair the only visible part of him as he cradled his head upon his crossed arms. The pale blue robe he wore appeared slept in, stains of perspiration having spread down the sides. The aquamancer made no sound, uttered no greeting; indeed, Dangardidun wondered if the man even knew he had visitors.

Cail looked at Dangardidun with dread in his eyes. "Do you want to wake him, or I?"

Dangardidun smiled at his friend. "Since you are the one afraid of being turned into something other than yourself, and I am not, then it shall me who will...do the honors."

Standing behind the dozing aquamancer, Dangardidun tapped Velenoth upon the shoulder. The aquamancer murmured something Dangardidun could not catch. The dwarf reached out once again, this time worrying the aquamancer's shoulder--gently at first, then when the man would not rouse, rougher.

Suddenly Velenoth sat bolt upright, his arms stretching out as if to grasp the table. The fishbowl stirred upon the table, the fish within it disturbed into erratic movements. Velenoth's eyes widened as he caught sight of Cail. Dangardidun watched Cail's eyes widen as well and the guardsman moved backward a pace.

A slow smile of recognition began to form upon Velenoth's face. "You're lucky, Walkert," the aquamancer murmured dreamily, "that I like you--I'll not turn you into a fish this day. And you," turning to Dangardidun, "are nearly as small as a fish."

"Interesting fragrance," the dwarf said, pretending to breathe deeply. "And the decor is...creative--yet not your usual style, I think."

"Just leave me alone," the aquamancer groaned. "Can't you see that I am in no mood for your jibes? And I certainly am in no mood for another dull briefing from Insqit--the anal dolt!"

"That 'anal dolt'," Dangardidun said, leaning closer to Velenoth, "is your superior officer and if he wishes to give a discourse on how to use a chamber pot, then you bloody well shall listen to it."

Velenoth laughed, then moaned, pressing his hands against his temples. " 'Superior' officer, you say? I think not--the man is an idiot. Now, leave me!"

"You may consider the man an idiot, but he's not the one with a hangover right now."

Velenoth let his hands drift back to the table and he looked squarely at Dangardidun. Dangardidun felt a small knot of fear grow in his chest, but he tamped it down. "I am in no condition," the aquamancer said calmly, "to appear before anyone--I don't even wish to look at myself." Dangardidun had to admit, the usually neat and clean-shaven aquamancer looked and smelled like a drunken wreck.

"I know," Dangardidun said gently, "and I understand your request. But we, Cail and I, were given explicit orders to bring you to the Senior Guard--and you know what that means." He looked up to glance at Cail; the guardsman's hands were curled into fists should Velenoth become violent. "Will you come with us, now?"

The aquamancer loosed a long, mournful sigh. "Yes, yes, I suppose so," he said, his voice still holding a note of irritation. Then he looked down upon his crumpled garment as if for the first time. "I hate this place and I hate you for waking me." Then favoring Dangardidun and Cail each with a small, chastened smile added, "Know that there is nothing personal in such an oath, and I do not hate the both of you always... Ah, I am rambling."

Dangardidun returned the aquamancer's smile in kind. "Perhaps you should sober up a bit."

Velenoth nodded, "And for my own sake, I suppose. Watch and learn, you two." Velenoth stooped to pick up a dry sponge then closed his eyes and began chanting in a voice that, to Dangardidun, sounded like waves charging up a rocky shore. A yellowish mist arose from the aquamancer's head and coalesced around the sponge Velenoth held in his hand.

In a moment the mist was gone. The aquamancer opened his eyes: pale blue eyes that were now bright and alert. "I am ready for the Senior Guard's pleasure," he pronounced with little enthusiasm. When he stood up, the wrinkles in Velenoth's robe smoothed as if freshly pressed. Then he bent toward the fishbowl and said wistfully, "I shall return as soon as possible, Orca."

As they walked toward the main building, Dangardidun sneaked a furtive look at the aquamancer. Velenoth wore an expression of resignation: as if he expected such as his lot, and no longer cared what might be his fate at the hands of the Senior Guard. Dangardidun exchanged no words with the aquamancer, nor did Cail. All that could be heard were the crunch of their boots upon the dirt and the rasp of Velenoth's pale robes as the folds moved with each stride.

Senior Guard Insqit was waiting in the doorway of the main building, satisfaction at seeing his fetched aquamancer inching his mouth into a thin smile. "Aquamancer Velenoth," he said, a sneer tracing the name and title, "so good of you to join us."

Velenoth did not react at the implied derision, only seemed to stare at a point beyond the Senior Guard's shoulder.

The Senior Guard cleared his throat. "Velenoth, I will meet with you alone--Walkert, Dangardidun: you will both attend to your assigned posts. I give you leave now."

Dangardidun and Cail gave the splayed-fingered salute, then turned stiffly upon their heels. Dangardidun resisted the urge to turn round and was relieved to note that Cail had not given into curiosity as well.

They did not speak until they met up with another guard, sandy-haired, stoop-shouldered Guardsman Kranshaar. "Guess I'm your Third today," the man said cheerfully. Dangardidun, unlike the other guardsmen, did not find Kranshaar's buoyant manner irritating--indeed, it was refreshing to find someone among the guards who actively enjoyed his position. He also appreciated that Kranshaar was not one who so craved adventure that he would do something foolish.

"That you are," Dangardidun answered in kind, looking up at Cail to gauge his reaction to the assignment. The young guardsman wore a good-natured smile upon his face: obviously he too was not disappointed in having Kranshaar as their Third this day.

"I would not want," Cail remarked conspiratorially, "to be in Velenoth's boots right now. He's meeting privately with the Senior Guard."

Kranshaar's dark-blond eyebrows arched, eager for gossip. "Well, the aquamancer's either in for a special mission or special punishment. I hear Velenoth's been taking to the bottle much of late."

Dangardidun threw Cail a warning look: Say little else, for Kranshaar's lips are looser than most. Cail took the admonition with a sudden widening of the eyes. Luckily Kranshaar took no notice of the reaction.

"So, Kranshaar," Cail blurted, "did we miss anything important?"

"Naw," Kranshaar said in an exaggerated drawl, "Insqit was just givin' us the ol' inspirational speech again. You hear it once, you hear it a thousand times."

Nothing more was said about Velenoth between the three of them, to Dangardidun's relief. Something in the Senior Guard's tone had cautioned the dwarf against further speculation--for such knowledge could surely be the death of anyone knowing of it.

###

Daggercleft Landentry straddled a natural passage, a wash nearly a mile wide, through the Aldas Mountains, protecting Aldasia's landward side like a stout shield. The main thoroughfare crossing Daggercleft spanned Aldasia from the port-capital of Aldakan to the border city of Zumyrak. Since there were few convenient, passable roads leading to Aldakan, travelers had little choice but to proceed through the Majestic Countryline Guard station for inspection.

If one looked to the western horizon, Aldakan's granite turrets could be seen, until the marine layer blowing off the Sea of Sovereigns clouded it from view. Dangardidun, to pass time some mornings, often looked in that direction, counting heartbeats until the heavy mists shrouded the city.

There was no time for such an idle exercise this morning, the throng coming into the station growing thicker. Dangardidun, along with Cail and Kranshaar, took their assigned positions at Daggercleft Landport and began admitting traffic through to the sea-city and port of Aldasia. The weather seemed, to Dangardidun, ideal: warm enough to shed the heavy clothes of winter, but without the dust of a typically dry summer in the Aldas Mountains.

Because of the pleasant weather, land-traffic moved at a brisk and steady pace. Inspection of merchant carts by guardsmen and the sleek, plum-furred lannikander dogs moved smoothly, and pedestrians entered with little hindrance. The merchants, many of whom were experts at their trade, paid the various duties and tariffs with cheerful acceptance--perhaps, Dangardidun thought, due more to the mild weather and quick entry than to responsibility. He watched as the merchants eagerly urged their mules past the checkpoint, yelling curses and oaths when the animals balked.

Dangardidun had just admitted an especially querulous group of travelers when he looked up to see Cail waving his hands at him. Cail's position at preprimary meant that he must train a keen eye upon the constant flow of traffic. His responsibility was to spot anything unusual and, if required, react to it. As the sun had passed its zenith something had obviously caught his attention.

"What do you see?" Dangardidun called to his friend as he hurried to preprimary.

"Do you see that merchant train of five carts?"

"Yes, I do," Dangardidun said as he squinted through the spyglass handed him by Cail.

"There were six carts when that train left for Aldasia," Cail said, pausing dramatically, obviously enjoying the quizzical expression upon Dangardidun's face. "Merchant trains usually travel either in even numbers or by threes so that there is no cart by itself at night--that's a target for bandits. This train consists of five, so one cart is missing. I looked the carts over and found no signs of a fight--and the drivers appear rather placid. I suspect something else besides a stolen cart. Now, look over there." Dangardidun followed Cail's pointing finger. "See in the shadow of that large rock? There is our missing cart."

Dangardidun allowed his sensitive eyes to adjust to the darkened contrast of the rock's silhouette. Sure enough, he saw a shadow within a shadow: the square, greyed outline of a cart. "It is waiting to cross--and not through Daggercleft," he murmured, half to himself.

"Exactly," Cail concluded with a quick nod of his head. "I'd like to set up a 'meeting committee' for it." Cail winked at Dangardidun.

"I am for it," the dwarf grinned, gauging the progress of the merchant train. "We will have to move quickly to catch the laggard in its villany before the train comes through."

"I don't think we are going to get both," Cail mused. "If I was the driver of cart number six, I would wait until the others have passed through before I'd make my move--no sense in risking more than necessary. If the train were held up, I'd wait until it clears or make the crossing at first light."

"Well thought out, all of it," Dangardidun said, noting that the sun had lowered a bit in the sky: soon it would be late afternoon, then swiftly twilight. "Still, we must move quickly if we wish to overtake the errant cart. Go to Insqit for permission and I will prepare for our...operation. Does 'hook and jerk' sound to your liking?"

"Exactly what I was thinking of," Cail grinned as he turned to move towards the central building.

###

In less time than it would take to load a rowboat, Cail and Dangardidun's plan was set. Senior Guard Insqit had meted only one stipulation: that they use their Third, news of which seemed to delight Kranshaar. The guardsman couldn't stop beaming a wide smile as Cail took him from his position at the line.

As Cail and Kranshaar moved away from Daggercleft Landport, Dangardidun rushed to join up with them. Dangardidun felt the comforting weight of the worn leather holster strapped upon his back which contained his beloved crossbow. He also wore a heavy coil of rope upon his right shoulder like a bristly epaulet, counterbalanced by a large ebony horn upon his left. Despite the additional heft, and the slight wobble of his gait, he had little trouble keeping pace with the humans.

Dangardidun caught Kranshaar's raised eyebrows at the sight of his supplementary equipment, but said nothing. He knew that Cail would do the explaining in his stead, for often Dangardidun wearied of it.

Cail, as Dangardidun expected, had caught the unspoken question in Kranshaar's expression. "The extra gear Dangardidun carries is for 'hook and jerk' on the errant cart I briefed you on. You...are...familiar with that tactic?"

Kranshaar blinked, obviously debating with himself on whether or not to feign knowledge of the procedure, or to profess his ignorance of it. "Uh, well, I've heard of it, yes...but I'm a little foggy with the...er...details."

Cail favored the guardsman with a patient smile. "It's simple: there's only one route the wayward cart could take without being directly observed by Daggercleft. That route is where we three will set up shop. We must catch the cart in an awkward position so that the driver will be unable to retreat easily. The driver, therefore, will have only two options: surrender--or run our gauntlet. His reaction, whichever it turns out to be, will tell us what kind of cargo he's ferrying." Cail glanced briefly at Dangardidun. "The best place to spring our 'surprise' is where the road ends in a fork. This is why the Senior Guard insisted upon a third guardsman. You, Kranshaar, shall take the right-hand road and I will mind the other. Dangardidun will announce our presence and, well, we'll just see what happens."

"Yes," Kranshaar said, nodding, "but what of the horn and rope?"

Cail looked at Dangardidun once more, the young human's eyes seemed to twinkle with excitement. If the expression had been worn by anyone other than Cail Walkert, Dangardidun would have been worried that reckless behavior might follow soon. "Well, if our suspect driver," Cail said, "tries to make a regatta of it, then Dangardidun will hook him with a grapple to which the rope will be attached. The other end of the rope will have been tied to a sturdy boulder. Once the rope becomes taut something must give--and it's our hope that the cart will give first. If the cart does not submit so easily once Dangardidun has secured the rope to it, he will blow his horn once for the road on the right, or twice for the other." Grinning, Cail added, "Remember, we should be hidden in order to allow the driver to incriminate himself."

"I have just one more question," Kranshaar said, an eyebrow cocked slyly. "What if Dangardidun should blow three times in row?"

"Well," Cail said, arms crossed casually upon his chest, "that would mean that he needs our help and we should give him assistance. Not that we'll ever hear three hornblasts this side of the Sea of Sovereigns."

"Glibly put, that was," Kranshaar grinned.

Dangardidun merely shrugged his shoulders. He'd heard the explanation so often that it no longer seemed amazing--or even ingenious. What amazed Dangardidun was Cail's continuing enthusiasm at explaining the procedure to those unfamiliar with it.

Without a word Dangardidun left the others and walked toward a clump of jagged rocks. His burdens made him sway a little with each small stride, but he never lost his footing or his balance. Tilting his right shoulder toward the ground, he let a length of rope slide into the dirt. Grabbing up one end of it, he circled the the rocks until he was satisfied that the rope was secure. His short, thick fingers worked a portion of the rope into a tight knot and he pulled at it a few times to test its strength.

Now came the wait.

Dangardidun watched as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. Cail and Kranshaar had already assumed their positions of ambush as planned: one man for each respective escape route. Dangardidun sighed as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and attached one end of the rope round the special quarrel he'd fashioned. As he'd done before, Dangardidun pulled the rope taut, and when it did not slip from the quarrel, smiled at his handiwork.

Leaning against the clump of rocks, Dangardidun unhooked his hammer from his belt. As twilight ate away the last of the sunlight, Dangardidun smoothed his thumb along the elaborate scrollwork engraved in the metal. The other guardsmen often looked upon the weapon with great curiosity--and some fear. None questioned him about it, even Cail--not that Dangardidun would have given answer to their questions.

Before long night had fallen, moon and stars offering the only light to all beneath them. It would not be a long wait, Dangardidun surmised. Surely the cart driver would be eager to get away from the darkness.

Soon Dangardidun heard the familiar creak of stressed wood, the soft flap of leather against horseflesh--and nervous mumbling. The dwarf listened closely, letting his ears tell him what his eyes could not see. When his ears told him the time was right for ambush, Dangardidun stepped into the path of the cart, his brandished hammer glinting in the starlight.

"By the Majestic Countryline Guards I order you to stop!" Dangardidun shouted, taking care to keep off the road so that he would not be trampled, for he suspected the driver might not stop.

From a distance as the cart's horses chewed at the earth, Dangardidun now saw the driver's swarthy, bearded face limned in the moonlight. For a moment the cart slowed to a swaying halt and the driver, eyes widened, stared at Dangardidun and his raised hammer. The man opened his mouth as if to speak then clamped it shut. With a frenzied cartwheel of his reigns the driver whipped his horses into a quick run.

Dangardidun leapt deftly out of the cart's path, resheathed his hammer, knelt and picked up his crossbow. As the breeze stirred by the cart's passing fluttered his hair, Dangardidun aimed for the back of the wagon and let the arrow fly home. With a dull ca-CHUNK the quarrel bit into the splintered wood.

Dangardidun set aside his crossbow and waited patiently, fingering the horn dangling from his neck. He watched as the driver kept his horses going full tilt, skillfully guiding his wagon to left side of the canyon. The dwarf waited until the driver could not possibly change the cart's course without incurring a mishap. Bringing the horn to his lips, Dangardidun loosed two mighty blasts.

Before the echoes of the second blast died away, Dangardidun watched as Cail was up and running toward the cart. Even in the darkness, Dangardidun saw Cail's dark uniform riven with moonglow as the guardsman closed in on the cart.

Dangardidun noted quickly that the cart's driver had seen Cail as well and panicked. The man whipped his horses in a frenzy that striped the animals' backs in blood. Mercifully, that torture ended quickly. With a mighty wrenching of wood the cart came apart: the back panel still tethered to Dangardidun's roped quarrel.

With a strangled cry of surprise, the driver tumbled to the dust of the canyon. Cail, as nimble as a mountain goat, neatly dodged rocks and small washes to reach the supine driver. Dangardidun watched as Cail ignored the horses as they reared their fore-legs in confusion, still tethered as they were to the remains of the cart. The driver was Cail's sole target now.

The driver was struggling to his knees, gasping and clutching his ribs, when Cail reached him. With a sudden surge of strength, for it appeared to Dangardidun that the man was feigning injury, the driver pushed himself to his feet and made as if to run. Dangardidun watched as Cail brought his club solidly against the man's lower thigh, toppling the driver back into the dust.

No sooner had Dangardidun reached them did Cail give the driver a light tap upon the man's temple, stunning him. Cail did not look up at his friend as he bound the driver's hands with little care for the man's comfort. Dangardidun made no comment for he knew to do so at such a moment might inspire Cail to become rougher.

"That's a picture catch if ever I saw one," Kranshaar called out, grinning, as he approached the milieu. "I'll go fetch the horses."

Dangardidun said nothing as he watched Kranshaar trot away, remained silent until he was certain the other guardsman would not hear. "You know which of us must write the seizure report." It was a statement and not a question; its implications brought Cail's face to meet his, open protest in the downward bend of his mouth.

"Oh, by a bad candle's wick," Cail growled, "you know how I despise writing those reports! You can do such for me, for wordplay comes easily to you--doting on your journal as you do."

"Listen well to me, Cail," Dangardidun said, his voice a low rumble to match his friend's, "I taught you to read and write the runes of Aldasia and as with any skill, you must use it often to remain proficient. If you do not exercise such skills, they shall wither within you as a fruit withers upon a branch when it goes unpicked." Pausing, he added, "Then you should become an incomplete guardsman. There may come a time when I will no longer be at your side to write reports in your stead. What would you do then? Do you well understand?"

Cail's mouth pursed and his eyes narrowed in a dark glower. Dangardidun knew the young guardsman respected him, but still did not bear lectures well. Cail kept his glaze trained upon Dangardidun as he jerked the driver to his feet, the collar of the man's shirt bunched within Cail's fist, so that the man gagged a little.

Dangardidun watched as Cail shoved the man once, then turned to look upon the dwarf. "I do understand that what you say is right and true." Then with eyes suddenly a-twinkle added, "But that does not mean I must like it."

And I, Dangardidun thought to himself, do not enjoy always saying to you what I must.