Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 50

Destiny had taken him to her like his old friend Death led his loved ones to their inevitable end-- without fail.

After a long way down a spiralling staircase, Xenro emerged into the crowded main hall. Warm firelight from the large hearth filled the room. Four long tables occupied the length of the oakwood floorboards, and to the back wall was set a wooden counter, like that of an inn.

In the middle, a cluster of people had gathered, and from there rose loud voices and shouts.

And there she was, exactly where she belonged, like a jewelled crown belonged atop a mighty ruler's head, like a sword graced the grip of a fierce warrior.

Her place was ever in the midst of chaos.

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The trek to the secret hideout of the mercenaries had been amusing enough, with warriors from all over Stormvale who spoke of battles long gone, old veterans who told Xenro--a naive young man out to find his fate, based on what they knew of him-- the perils of the mercenary life, and to crown it all-- old Captain Walric chanting with great devotion sermons by the Nameless One, things which Xenro had never in his long, tragic life had the misfortune to utter.

But she'd disclosed naught of her original plan with the wagons of weaponry and her attempts to contact the princess of Midaelia.

Before entering the woods of Kinallen, her companion named Gunvald went on ahead with the wagons. Next followed a journey on foot through the forest. At first, it was no different than a leisurely walk-- if Xenro could overlook the fact that a magic-wielding grandmother was keeping him hostage. Then the mercenaries began to split up in groups of twos and threes.

A nod and a wave from the captain told him he was to stay with her.

"Your Da ever mention how to get to our hideout?" asked Captain Walric.

"I uh-- don't remember," said Xenro, assuming once again the look of a clueless farm-boy who had no idea how valuable a sword he carried. And since he was feeling so brave and confident in his acting, he added, "folk were always mocking old Da, saying this Nameless One is a sham. There's no such God."

A harsh look crossed her weather-worn face. "If there is something else to blame for that, other than Lord Rhilio's wrath toward his own child-- it is the Council and their law of restriction. Paints us all in a bad light, that law. Our God is no exception. Only worshippers of him are the people of Kinallen, although they like to pretend as though the Unnamed and our lord is not one and the same-- so the Council fools don't come after them."

Now Xenro's cluelessness was not acting. "The Council? What's that?"

"To put it briefly, it's a circle of skilled mages who oversee and control sorcery-related matters all across Stormvale. It's said right after the Great War, all the rulers, esteemed warlords, Royal Sorcerers and Sorceresses came together to form this organization to keep sorcerous activities in check throughout the land-- so that another devastating war could be prevented from ever happening."

"That is a good thing, isn't it? Keeping a rein on sorcery?"

"It would have been, no doubt, if that's the thing the Council stuck to. They are supposed to remain a neutral entity, with branches spread across the kingdoms and their representatives present in courts. Yet that neutrality is purchasable with coin, it appears--Drisian coin, to be specific."

Xenro brought his long hair into a knot, sighing wearily. The land hadn't changed much, even after the Great War.

"The law of restriction," explained the captain, "bars the military from using sorcery, and same goes for armed forces such as us who offer our services. You wield a sword, you can no longer wield magic. And that law alone, dear boy, marked folk like us as criminals overnight-- simply because we did not want to give up the power we've wielded for centuries. And to think, this company once served the Midaelian throne!"