C6 Chapter 6: Return to Vyldoro

It was still almost dark when a different servant woke Nikko the next morning. It had been a short night and the boy had not slept well. He felt correspondingly seedy, but did his best to choke down some of the bread and honey that someone had brought to the room.

“Your own things are not dry yet, lad,” said a chubby woman in a white bonnet, startling him as she bustled unexpectedly into his small room. “Pull these on instead.” She lay a pile of neatly folded clothes on his bed, then pulled the door closed from outside with a loud clack.

Nikko had gotten used to the feeling of the elegant page clothes, which felt so soft against his skin. The new clothes were coarser, made of stiff cloth and leather, and no doubt better suited to the long journey that the stranger had spoken about the day before. As soon as he had pulled on the tunic, he noticed the Hocatin crest displayed prominently on the left side of the chest, and a feeling of pride came over him at being allowed to wear the landgravial uniform.

Shortly thereafter, a servant came and collected him. Nikko was now fully dressed in his new clothes and with his backpack on his back, freshly filled with supplies, the magic wand safely stowed inside. Excited and nervous, he was looking forward to the journey ahead.

The hazy sky in the east was just starting to brighten, the rising sun hidden behind heavy clouds when Nikko and the servant appeared in the yard of the castle, which was still deserted. The only people waiting there were the nobleman, whose strange name Nikko had forgotten again, and another man that Nikko did not know, but who held the reins of three large horses. Nikko hoped he wouldn't have to ride. His father, many years earlier, had tried to teach him the rudiments of riding, but Nikko had been too afraid of the huge beast to ever get very good at it. No one in Vyldoro actually needed to be able to ride, but there were many who did it just for fun. Besides, the few horses up in the mountains were working nags, mainly used for hauling logs and large stones.

“Good morning,” the nobleman yawned.

“Good morning, my lord,” Nikko said quietly.

“Please excuse the early departure, but I want to take the opportunity to ride with the messenger as far as Vylrahdo. From there, you'll lead us on foot.”

“Excuse me, my lord,” Nikko replied, confused, “but where am I supposed to be leading you to?”

But the nobleman simply rebuffed him. “I'll explain all about my mission later. For now, we'll ride together to Vylrahdo.”

Wasn't that the guesthouse in the valley where Nikko had spent the night with Fodaj and his sons? There were only two ways to go from there, to Vyldoro or to Skingár. Was he going to have to lead this strange nobleman to his home village? But not on to Hymal again, surely …

The nobleman nimbly mounted up and positioned his horse behind the messenger. Nikko was less adept, and the horse was really very large, and in the end the servant had to come to help him into the saddle. With trepidation, Nikko realized just how much larger this beast was than the one he had had to learn to ride on years earlier.

The messenger got his horse moving at a walk, which was a great relief to Nikko. Behind the messenger came the nobleman, at home on horseback. Nikko had no great problems getting his unpredictable animal to walk behind the two ahead. Moving at that speed, he felt at least slightly confident that he would not fall off.

But as soon as they passed through the gate at the stone bridge that led into the town, the messenger increased their pace to a light trot. When their blue-blooded traveling companion did the same, Nikko had no choice but to keep up. To his great joy, however, they had to stop briefly at the east gate, which was still closed and barred at that early hour. The short break gave Nikko a chance to pull himself together and wipe the sweat of fear from his brow, but the guard on duty opened the gate for the landgravial messenger without delay.

Once outside, the messenger once again brought his mount to a fast trot, and kept it up for a good hour. By then, the lad had grown more accustomed to the horse, but he could not have said he was enjoying the ride.

The day had brightened considerably and the clouds had dissipated somewhat, allowing an occasional ray of morning sunlight through. But with the better light, the messenger picked up the pace considerably, which terrified poor Nikko. Close to panic, the lad did his best to keep up with the far better riders ahead of him. He jabbed its flanks with his spurs, hoping against hope that the beast wouldn't bolt on him.

The messenger changed pace often. He seemed not only to be intimately familiar with their route, but could also judge how well the horses were doing as they rode. The last stretch had to be taken at a walk, as the road grew increasingly steep.

It was just before midday when they finally arrived at Vylrahdo. Nikko found it unbelievable that they had completed the distance in half a day. With Fodaj, it had taken more than two days for the same journey. But the merchant's ox carts were ponderous and slow by comparison, Nikko knew.

“A magnificent estate,” the nobleman grumbled, surveying the rustic guesthouse, with its stone-walled lower floor and wooden upper part, as he dismounted. “Looking at it now, I wonder if we wouldn't be better off just moving on. How far is this—,” the man hesitated and pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, then read in a pompous voice, “—Vyldoro from here, lad?”

“A day's march, a little less, my lord,” Nikko answered. He tried to dismount himself, but the attempt only ended with him suddenly lying flat on his back in the mud.

“How much less?” the nobleman asked, looking down at Nikko and stifling a smile. “Could we manage it by this evening?”

Nikko got back to his feet. “I don't think so, my lord. It took me eight or nine hours to come down. It will certainly take longer going uphill, and it gets dark fast here in the mountains.”

“All right, then,” said the nobleman with resignation. “Then it looks like we'll have to spend the night here.”

Nikko was relieved to hear it. After all the hours they'd been in the saddle, it wasn't only his back that hurt. He had no interest in heading on to Vyldoro immediately.

“My thanks for the horses, messenger,” the nobleman said, his voice taking on an imperious tone. “We don't require them any longer.”

“I'll take care of them, my lord,” the messenger replied obediently, and led the beasts away.

“Well, lad, let's take a look inside,” murmured the noble, moving hesitantly toward the guesthouse entrance.

Nikko grabbed his few things and went off after his new traveling companion, who carried a backpack of his own and a colorful shield emblazoned with a silver gryphon on a blue ground. For the first time, Nikko noticed the long sword dangling from the man's belt in an elegant leather sheath. Such a weapon told anyone who saw it that the man was someone of standing.

There was little activity inside the guesthouse at that early hour. The landlord with the bushy moustache was immediately aware of the presence of the blue-blooded guest, and greeted him with a deep bow.

“How may I be of service to our esteemed gentleman?” he asked subserviently.

“A room for myself and my … companion,” the nobleman ordered. “Bring food and wine for two.”

“As you command, my lord,” the proprietor kowtowed.

The room was large and surprisingly clean. There was one large bed and a smaller one in a separate corner. In the center of the room stood a table at which Nikko and the nobleman were seated. The landlord had set out roast wild pig, steamed vegetables, bread and fresh fruit, and a large jug of some kind of red drink.

Now that Nikko could take a closer look at the nobleman, he reminded him a little of the southerners who had passed through Vyldoro the year before. His wavy, shoulder-length hair was black and glossy, and the man clearly took good care of it. He wore a small, neatly trimmed goatee on his narrow chin. All in all, he was a dapper, middle-aged man with deep-set, dark eyes, dressed in glistening, dark-colored leather and fine black cloth beneath which snow-white frills adorned the collar and wrists.

“Vile,” the man muttered, as he took a solid mouthful of the red drink. “What I wouldn't give for a bottle of red from my homeland right now!”

Nikko, too, could find little good to say about the brew. But he found the fatty roast pig delicious. The nobleman, however, seemed to be used to finer fare, and screwed up his face in disgust as he ate.

“A good transition to the sparse meals ahead in the field,” he murmured, and followed that with a resigned sigh before turning his dark eyes to Nikko. “Oh, that's right. I guess I ought to acquaint you with my mission.”

He took out a number of papers and began reading through them self-importantly.

“First, it is to be stated,” he began slowly, “that until further notice you are in the service of his Serene Highness, the Landgrave of Hocatin. You are duty-bound to support me in the fulfillment of my mission, and to follow my orders. Your pay is set at six coppers a day. The landgrave has commissioned me to take a message to the colonel in Hymal. You will lead me over the pass. According to these notes, you already have some experience with Hymal.”

“Hymal?” Nikko gulped in fright. He'd only just made it out of that terrible country alive, just over two weeks earlier. “What about the orcs?”

“What are a few orcs?” the nobleman replied, radiating more self-confidence than Nikko felt was appropriate. “It would seem that this elven forest is far more dangerous, and we are to avoid that if at all possible. Lad, you were incredibly lucky to have the wild elves looking out for you! They probably thought you were some child who had lost his way.”

“Elves?” Nikko asked.

“Of course. Although we did not know that there were still any left over there. But this arrow you brought with you has corrected that misconception. That was clever of you. Without this kind of evidence, no one would have paid your story much credence.”

“Sire, are you really sure about the orcs?” Nikko asked with concern.

“I know how to handle orcs,” the nobleman preened. “They are easy creatures to avoid. No masters of camouflage, that's for sure, and don't get me started on moving silently. Besides, the orcs that attacked you were almost certainly a small band of raiders. The elves have solved that particular problem for us already, so try not to be too concerned.”

But all Nikko could see in his mind's eye was their horrible faces, and they scared him. With the orcs astride their giant wolves, there would be no escaping them, especially because the woods were also dangerous. And he doubted that the elves would protect him a second time.

“I'm an outstanding swordsman, by the way,” the presumed warrior boasted. “If we really do run into orcs, I'll teach them to try their luck against Danuwil of Bregánt!”

“You're a nobleman, aren't you?” said Nikko, who didn't really have any idea how he was supposed to deal with a son of noble blood.

“Most certainly,” Danuwil declared. “My father was Knight of Bregánt.”

“And what are you?” asked Nikko, without thinking.

“The younger brother to the current Knight of Bregánt,” the man replied, in a tone that suggested Nikko had just insulted him. Nikko decided that being a nobleman was probably like being a farmer. The oldest son inherited the farm, and the others could fight for whatever scraps they could get.

After a long moment of silence, Danuwil said, “I'm going to take a nap now. Take care of the dishes. After that, you have the rest of the day to yourself, until we eat this evening.”

Nikko had taken a nap himself, but outside, in the soft grass by the babbling mountain stream. Danuwil, with his strange ways, seemed vaguely sinister to Nikko, and for now he decided to try to stay out of his way.

He was wading barefoot in the cool stream, thinking over the discussion with the arrogant nobleman. For one thing, Nikko realized he would learn little from him. The man's mood swung too wildly from friendly to high-handed. For another, Nikko was not at all convinced that a journey to Hymal would be as straightforward as the nobleman made it out to be. The images of the grim orcs mounted on their black wolves, hunting him into the forest of the elves … it was all still too fresh in his mind. Would a puffed-up noble like Danuwil really be able to take on such terrifying enemies?

But the lad had become a servant of the landgrave in Hocatin. The role was involuntary, certainly, but not unwanted, so he had to obey the man come what may. Orcs or not, Nikko no longer had a choice.

Later that evening, the two were again in their room, this time eating dinner together. The landlord had prepared roast chicken and a vegetable soup, which seemed to be more to the spoiled nobleman's taste. He also found the wine much more drinkable than it had been earlier.

“This is actually good,” the nobleman said. “Why does one always have to complain first?” He laughed, then said, “I hope our host in Vyldoro brings out his best without waiting to be asked.”

“There's no guesthouse in Vyldoro, my lord,” Nikko said casually.

“You can't be serious,” said Danuwil. His tone was earnest, but Nikko could only tell him the truth. “Oh, joy,” the nobleman muttered. “Then one of the farms will have to feed us. Which one has the best wine cellar?”

The nobleman understood the look of utter confusion on Nikko's face perfectly.

“Then it looks like we'll have to take a few bottles of this stuff with us,” he said, raising his beaker to Nikko and draining it in a single, long draught.

Nikko could not find much to like about the new wine, either. And besides, he didn't want to let himself get drunk again, as he had that time with Fodaj. Danuwil didn't seem to care much one way or the other. If anything, he seemed pleased to discover that there would be all the more for him, and he emptied one beaker after another.

“Are you also in the landgrave's service?” Nikko asked, hoping that the wine would have loosened Danuwil's tongue, and that he might perhaps find out a few answers and be able to get a clearer picture of the journey ahead of them.

“No,” Danuwil replied. “As you may have noticed, I am not from Hocatin.”

“Where are you from?”

“From Bregánt, of course,” Danuwil tried to say earnestly, but he failed and burst out laughing. “That's physically in Zûldaján, but it's really part of Thordám. It's a long story.”

“Then what are you doing in Hocatin?”

“I work for a trade guild in Zundaj,” the nobleman announced with pride. Nikko did not see what there was to be proud of in that. Danuwil went on, “Zundaj, you should probably know, is not only the capital city of Zûldaján, but also of the entire kingdom,” he lectured. “The king himself lives there!”

Nikko did not even know that he had a king. Until just recently, even Hocatin had seemed very far away. And there were no doubt very few in Vyldoro who had ever wondered if there might be a sovereign higher than the landgrave.

“If you live in this … Vyloldo,” the nobleman continued, slurring his words somewhat, “then you would certainly have seen our … expedition … to Hymal come through?”

“Yes. It was last summer.”

“That's what I'm … looking for,” Danuwil said, and giggled. “And because this Colonel Dooda Whatsisname is part of that … of my … expedition, it was clear that I should be the one to take him … the message from the … landgrave.”

“Why did the landgrave only send the two of us?” Nikko asked, who was enjoying being able to squeeze all this information out of the inebriated nobleman.

“Because he couldn't spear … spare anymore,” Danuwil slurred. “Rhobany is … breathing down his neck, and he can't send any mo … ore troops. They're all over in Hymal anyway. Besides, the two of us aren't so consp … conspit … conspicuous.”

Danuwil yawned deeply and staggered over to fall onto his bed. He was snoring almost instantly. Nikko did the same, wrapping up in the blankets in the small bed in the corner. But he lay awake for a long time and tried to fit this new information into what he already knew. The nobleman had mentioned a lot of names that Nikko did not know, too many for him to get a much better picture of their situation. The things Danuwil had said threw up more questions than they answered.

Next morning, Danuwil was obviously suffering from the effects of the previous night's wine, and he didn't say much at all as they ate breakfast. He held his left hand to his throbbing head and ate bread and honey from his right, but without much interest. Nikko, however, enjoyed every mouthful; he knew they had a long march ahead of them into the mountains.

It wasn't long before they set off for Vyldoro. It was good weather for traveling. The sky was clear, and with the spring sunshine Nikko was looking forward to the hike ahead of them. He walked ahead in silence, and Danuwil followed in silence. Nikko hoped that the capricious nobleman would not resent the interrogation the night before.

They spoke little during the climb, but Danuwil had to ask Nikko to stop several times. The nobleman was obviously not used to walking in the mountains. He had been pressing Nikko since late in the morning to take a longer break, but Nikko wanted to save that for the ridge with the beautiful, panoramic view.

Nikko liked having the say in when they walked and when they stopped, and the nobleman seemed content to give him a free hand here in the mountains. That's how it should be, too , thought Nikko. After all, it was up to him to make sure they got to Vyldoro before dark.

They reached the ridge early in the afternoon. Nikko had wanted to be there by midday, but the nobleman had his limits; how would he do up on the steep pass, the lad wondered, grinning maliciously to himself. But he was worried, too, because with the nobleman huffing and puffing behind him, he was not at all sure that they could make it up and over the pass in one day.

Danuwil, meanwhile, stood and enjoyed the breathtaking view from the ridge, and got Nikko to explain everything he saw. But when Nikko pointed out the pass so far above the village already situated so high in the mountains, the nobleman was so shocked that he had to sit down. He had clearly misjudged just how arduous this trip would be.

Nikko did not allow them any more than a half hour break. He was starting to worry that night would overtake them before they reached the village, and the lad wanted very much to sleep back on the family farm and not somewhere in a dark forest where wolves prowled and howled at night.

They made it, but only just, arriving at the village just as darkness was falling. Luckily, Nikko knew the last half an hour of the route well enough for them to come through unscathed in the dusky twilight.

After a few minutes, they finally arrived at the southeast farm, Nikko's home. They might even have arrived in time for the evening meal, although at this time the best food would have been eaten long before. But the lad seriously doubted that his mother's kitchen would be able to live up to the nobleman's high standards, and he was concerned about whether his return to the farm, and in particular seeing Gimu again, could go well.

Nikko opened the door to the house with some trepidation and went in only slowly. Danuwil stepped in confidently behind him.

“Well, look who's here. The black sheep that no one wants found its way back after all,” Gimu immediately taunted him. “Maybe we have to dump it further away next time.”

“Gimu!” his mother snapped. “Watch your tongue!”

“I'm the master of this farm, now,” Gimu said, raising his voice. “And the black sheep is not welcome here.” Then, looking at Danuwil, whom he had apparently just noticed, he snarled, “And the same goes for any strays he brings home with him.”

At that, Danuwil pushed Nikko aside roughly with one hand and lunged toward Gimu. From the corner of his eye, a surprised Nikko saw the nobleman's razor-sharp longsword gleam in the light from the fire blazing in the fireplace.

“How dare you, farmer!” Danuwil roared, holding the cold steel tip of the sword at the now petrified Gimu's throat. One flick of his wrist would mean the end of Nikko's older brother.

The entire room sat as if frozen. Everybody seemed to be holding their breath. Gimu, his eyes wide as saucers, had broken out in a fearful sweat.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Nikko's mother finally begged. “The boy's mouth is just too big for him. He did not mean to insult you. Please, have mercy!”

“May I introduce my companion? This is Danuwil of Bra … Bre …” said Nikko, trying to ease the situation, but he quickly realized that he had once again forgotten the blasted name! He could only hope that he wasn't making things worse.

“Danuwil of Bregánt,” the nobleman said, calmer now, addressing Gimu. “The honor is all mine,” he added sarcastically.

Gimu's eyes only grew bigger, but he said nothing.

Danuwil leaned forward. “Leave,” he whispered to Gimu in an unequivocal tone, lowering his sword. Gimu ran out the door faster than he ever had before and disappeared into the darkness of the farm.

“My apologies, my good woman,” said the nobleman, now using his most gallant voice.

“Accepted,” Nikko's mother laughed. “A dressing-down like that was long overdue. Now if only the boy learns something from it.”

Danuwil laughed at that, then Nikko, then the rest of the family joined in.

“Good woman, I humbly request food and lodging for the night,” the nobleman said in a friendly tone. “I promise it will not be to your disadvantage.”

Nikko could only wonder, yet again, at how fast the eccentric noble could climb up on his high horse and climb back down again.

“Come, children, make room for the gentleman!” their mother ordered. “I hope roast goat with dumplings and mushrooms would be acceptable to the gentleman?”

“But of course, good woman,” Danuwil replied, smiling radiantly.

Rarely had his mother ever cooked anything as good as what they ate that night, Nikko thought, once he and Danuwil had filled their bellies. She had even set out a large pot of mushrooms gathered from the woods and pickled in mountain herbs. They only got something like that on special occasions, once a year at the most. Even the dumplings were delicious, and also something of a treat, because the only flour they had on the farm came from Fodaj, who hauled it up to the mountains from the lowlands around Hocatin. The climate in the mountains made it impossible to grow grain. His mother must have been so impressed by Danuwil that she had raided her pantry for the very best she had.

“My good woman,” the nobleman said when he had finished eating. “May I invite you to join me in a glass of wine?”

“Wine?” she asked in surprise, apparently feeling flattered.

“You'll drink with us, lad!” Danuwil ordered as he prized out the cork.

The wine was the same, but today it tasted better than it had the day before. Maybe Nikko just had to get used to the rich flavor. It was a most pleasant evening. Danuwil was friendly and relaxed, and after the third bottle quite drunk. Nikko's mother was impressed at having such an illustrious guest in her house and had a wonderful time, something that Nikko had never before seen. He himself restricted himself to a mere glass or two. Late in the night, he helped Danuwil into his grandfather's bed, then went off to sleep in his own bed again, surrounded by his brothers and sisters, for the first time in quite a while.