The next morning came clear and bright and with the promise that it was going to be a hot day. Lieut woke everyone quickly and shortly after Inüer crested the eastern horizon they were trotting down the road. Tornie would have preferred a slower pace, but Lieut urged him to go faster and ignore any villages they might come across.

Luckily they did not come to any villages, but that luck ended when they came to a region of the road where it wound around the base of several hillocks crowned with ominous crags. As they rounded one of the corners Tornie pulled the wagon to a stop and glanced nervously at the hills. On the road ahead of them sat a turned over wagon, its broken and battered skeleton scattered over the stone and blocking the way.

Lieut suspected it was a trap, but he was not willing to be delayed by a broken cart. Jumping from the back of Tornie’s cart he moved to the small cart to push it from the road. Bārdin was quick to join him and with their combined strength they made short work of the task and were soon walking back to the wagon.

Suddenly the ground at the side of the road erupted and a dozen grinlocks charged at them from concealed holes.

The Grinlocks were roughly the size of a Dwarf, but they were a lot more hairy and their limbs and body thinner. Unlike Dwarves they did not craft fine weapons, and instead wielded wooden clubs and stone-tipped spears. Some of them even carried rust-pitted steel swords and shields that they had no doubt stolen or looted off corpses.

Lieut was quick to draw his sword and slice through the closest grinlock, but more filled its place. Many more of the hairy creatures were hooting as they raced down from the hills on both sides.

Of all the civilised races in Essinendeür, Grinlocks were the least civil. But they were in no way considered stupid and were very good at raiding trading routes and hunting and pillaging remote farms. Their minds were less interested in building great houses, forming set laws and living in fine clothes. Grinlocks could almost be called nomadic or tribal, as such was their way, and they moved around constantly all over Essinendeür, following the beasts they hunted or moving along the trade route to terrorise merchants.

As Lieut sliced apart the ranks of the grinlocks attacking him, he remembered reading a text by Professor Dionel Atborogh, which was written on Grinlocks. Most of it had been conjecture as Atborogh had not actually lived with a tribe of Grinlocks to learn their ways and observe them. Although Lieut could see that most of the statements in the books were quite accurate. These grinlocks wore fur pelts for clothing that had been crafted exquisitely with leather belts and bone buckles. Throughout their furry hair and around their wrists and necks were jewellery made from bone. They also shouted at each other in a guttural language to try and flank him.

Lieut smiled confidently to himself, for despite their intelligent attack strategies the grinlocks stood no chance.

By now both Fairris and Vythe had joined him and Bārdin in the battle. Fairris was shooting volleys of magickal bullets from her gunblades while Vythe threw many magickal balls of energy at the grinlocks.

The raiding party soon realised that they stood no chance against such powerful adversaries and fled into holes in the hills.

Lieut smiled and turned back to the wagon, clipping his sword at his shoulder in the process. Suddenly Bārdin yanked him by the arm causing him to stumble to one knee. Lieut was about to turn on the dwarf in anger but he suddenly felt the wind of a passing spear whip by his ear and he looked to see the steel shaft imbed into the hard ground.

Lieut was quick to get to his feet and gave a slightly awkward nod to Bārdin. He could not believe he had been so foolish as to turn his back on the enemy before he was certain they had fled the field of battle. His eagerness to reach The Port had caused him to lose concentration on matters immediately at hand.

“Amateurish,” Lieut quietly berated himself, but he tried not to think any more about it as he climbed back into Tornie’s wagon alongside Fairris and Bārdin.

“My debt of honour is now paid to you, Lieut,” Bārdin said as they set off again.

Lieut nodded absently and did not reply.

“Will you return to Midway now?” asked Vythe curiously.

“No way am I returning there,” replied Bārdin. “I reckon I will linger in The Port for a while, and then maybe head out on the road again. Maybe southwards, I’ender is nice this time of year.”

“You do not have to leave our company Bārdin,” Vythe remarked sincerely. “You are more than welcome to stay.”

“I thank you, but no.” Bārdin declined. “I’ll find me own way.”

The group continued to talk, but Lieut was hardly listening to their conversation, his thoughts lingering on his rookie mistake. He had been in thousands of battles and not once had he felt he had come this close to Death’s clutches. This feeling only confused him more, he was not meant to fear dying. In a life of constant warring and killing one has to be ready to die in turn, and he always had been.

“I must be ill,” Lieut mumbled quietly.

Lieut nodded to himself, reassuring his thoughts and feelings, very glad that he would soon be meeting up with his brother so they might be able to find a cure.

Lieut’s inner turmoil continued throughout the day, and like the rage in his mind a storm began to brew to the west. Great plumes of cloud swelled over the ocean, turning black and ominous on the underside where lightning flashed continuously and sizzled up throughout the mass of it.

Even though the great storm was far away the distant thunder could be heard above the rattle of the cart, and the clouds were moving closer.

“It seems the storm brothers will put on a show this evening,” Fairris remarked, also looking out towards the storm.

“What’s that now?” asked Bārdin jumping to his feet and looking to the west. “It’s just a storm, I see no people.”

“Open your eyes and you will see them in the clouds,” Fairris replied, her eyes sparkling.

“Damn Elves and their fairy stories,” Bārdin grumbled and sat back down.

“What is the story of the storm brothers, Fairris?” Vythe asked curiously. “I do not know of it, and I do enjoy the tales of the Elves.”

“As do I,” agreed Tornie. “Please tell us my dear.”

“Alright. I suppose I can do that,” Fairris hesitantly agreed. “Now, how does it begin? That’s right, the storm brothers are the lords of the sky. The High Elves tell a story of the two brothers of the storm, Lightning and Thunder. Their names are Sarr and Brinder. Always together and never apart. Brinder storms through the heavens, his feet pounding the air as his laughs roll along for all to hear. Sarr dances beside him there and gone at the same time, he flashes down to the earth and back beside his thunderous brother before your eye can even catch a glimpse of him.

“The oldest bard, Lythina the Dreamer, tells the tale that before the Ages of beings there were great wars in the skies where many warriors fought and died. All except the storm brothers. Sarr and Brinder fought hundreds and defeated all, and to this day they rule the skies. Yet still they draw the battle lines for any who would oppose them, shouting threats and displaying their dominance to any who would be foolish enough to consider facing them.”

Fairris finished her tale and a distant rumble of thunder was heard and felt by each of the travellers, as if the storm agreed with what she had said.

“It’s nothing but rain.” Bardin snorted derisively.

Just then another rumble was heard, but this one was more aggressive as if Bārdin’s comment had angered it.

Everyone laughed this time, but Lieut remained silent and Bārdin scowled back at the others.

The storm rushed closer and by mid-afternoon Inüer had vanished behind the clouds, making the sky flash orange before the darkness came forth. It almost seemed as if it were evening as the shadows grew dense.

Tornie pulled his wagon to a stop at the top of a small hill that looked down on the city of Port Na’brath.

“There she be,” Tornie remarked loudly. “The great Sesserrechien capital of Port Na’brath.”

Lieut quickly got up from his seat and looked down upon the high walls of the city. The city parapets were whitewashed and great golden oak doors marked the entrance. Pale blue banners flapped in the wind atop high towers along the eastern wall as it travelled far to the south along the ocean.

This was the north entrance to The Port, which meant the Magi Guild was far to the south at the other end of the city, so far that Lieut could barely see the iconic landmark in the distance on which the Guild was built.

Lieut’s eyes moved from the horizon and back down to the entrance where he saw a lone figure move though the large doors. It could have been anyone from this distance, but he knew in his gut that he had just seen his brother walk through the doors.

“De’im, I have arrived too late,” Lieut growled. “Quickly peddler, to the gates.”

“Alright, alright,” Tornie replied defensively and he flicked the reins to push the horse on into a trot. “No need to yell.”

Lieut sat back in his seat and fumed with frustration.

“You arrived too late?” Fairris asked him curiously.

“Yes,” Lieut replied sternly. “The fight with the grinlocks, delayed us too long.”

“What do you mean?” asked Fairris. “I do not understand, too late for what?”

“It does not matter.”

“Clearly it does matter,” Vythe remarked dryly.

“It does not matter to either of you,” Lieut clarified quickly.

Both Vythe and Fairris left it at that, but neither of them bothered to hide their annoyance with him.

They passed through the gates with no trouble, and now that Vythe no longer wore his family’s vest none recognised him. The first drops of rain began to fall on their heads as Tornie pulled his wagon to a stop just inside the gates.

“No doubt you all have your own business to attend to,” Tornie remarked. “I shall bid you all farewell here, but it has been a pleasure. And if you ever want to share a drink I will be happy to buy the first round, you may find me at the Golden Trough tavern. Farewell my friends.”

“I’ll join you there,” Bārdin announced not leaving the wagon, and he turned to the others. “So long to the three of you, it was fun while it lasted. Dun Noürg.”

Lieut nodded briefly to both Tornie and Bārdin before quickly heading off into the city. Vythe and Fairris said their farewells and raced to catch up to him.

“Heading to the Magi Guild Lieut?” Vythe asked as he came alongside him.

“You know I am,” replied Lieut without slowing his pace.

“You cannot simply walk up to its doors,” Vythe stated. “The Port is divided into three class sections with only a single bridge joining each of them. You will need a Writ of Passage to cross those bridges, and I do not suppose you have one of those, do you?”

“No,” replied Lieut. “I will use the tunnels built by the Thieves Guild that run below the city.”

“I thought as much.” Vythe grinned. “Perhaps I can assist you there?”

“Go on,” Lieut said, regarding Vythe curiously.

“I know the leader quite well,” replied Vythe. “You do not want much hassle, am I correct?”

Lieut nodded in agreement and continued to walk briskly through the muddy streets of the lower class. By now the rain had begun to fall steadily and many people had fled the streets to their dry homes or a tavern.

“What is the class division you spoke of earlier, Vythe?” asked Fairris as they walked along.

“I forget you have never been to The Port, Fairris,” Vythe said. “You see the city is divided into three sections, upper, middle and lower class. Also known as the Land of Lords, The Ladder and The Pit. You are currently in The Pit and the Land of Lords is many miles to the south, which is also where the Magi Guild is built. Eyes in this city are ever gazing to the south, greed gleaming within them. This cesspit around us is filled with the mighty who have fallen and the fallen who would be mighty. It is disgusting really, the amount of class discrimination that festers within these city walls.”

Lieut could see the obvious segregation that took place in the city all around him. The streets were filled with mud and refuse, the buildings were falling apart, there seemed to be very little drainage of water and sewage. Rats ran through the alleyways eating the rubbish left behind, dogs and cats ran wild throughout the area unchecked causing whatever havoc they could. There were hardly any street lamps lining the dark roads and very few guards patrolled this section of the city allowing crime to overflow.

“But what I have found remarkable,” continued Vythe, “is that the occupants of The Pit have formed their own authority to some degree. They look after their own down here, in many ways you are safer in these streets than you are in the Land of Lords. This is mostly due to the Thieves Guild, who run The Pit and looks after its citizens.”

“That is surprising,” Fairris remarked.

“It is mostly because of the events of the Third Age and the actions of Mandrel,” replied Vythe.

“I have not heard his story,” said Fairris thoughtfully.

“I shall tell you if you like,” Vythe replied with a smile. “But not now, for we are almost at the den of the Thieves Guild.”

Lieut knew where he was and where he was going, and Vythe was right, they were almost at the dead end alley that the Thieves Guild operated from.

The rain was pelting down and the lightning flashed and forked down from the sky, sending great tremors through the clouds. It was so dark now that the magickal street lanterns had begun to shine. One of the lanterns stood at the entrance to a dark alley, marking the gateway to the guild of thieves.

“Perhaps you should both stay here,” Vythe remarked seriously. “It will save you from any possible delay.”

Lieut looked at Vythe sternly. “You know what I am after?”

“The Keys to the City,” Vythe replied knowingly

“Be quick then,” Lieut said, his voice still stern.

Vythe winked at him and swaggered through the rain and vanished into the darkness of the alley.

Many minutes passed and the rain continued to fall and create small rivers in the muddy roads, but Vythe still had not returned. Lieut was beginning to become impatient and started to pace like a caged lion, stretching the stiffness from his neck and constantly looking towards the alleyway.

“Ease yourself Lieut,” Fairris remarked. “He has not been gone too long.”

“I am in a hurry,” Lieut was quick to reply.

“To see the Grand Magi, yes,” said Fairris with curious look. “But why are you in such a hurry? The Grand Magi is not going anywhere, is he?”

Lieut continued his pacing and did not reply.

“I do not understand,” Fairris said and looked intently at him.

“You do not need to understand,” Lieut replied coldly.

“But I want to,” Fairris was quick to reply, causing Lieut to stop and regard her curiously.

Just then Vythe appeared at the entrance of the alley and he quickly walked across to them, a grave expression upon his face.

“You have the keys?” Lieut asked sternly.

“Your arrival in the city has not gone unnoticed Lieut,” Vythe remarked seriously. “Nor has the arrival of another with silver hair, carrying a black steel weapon whose description reminds me a lot of yours. This is not a coincidence is it?”

“Where is the entrance to the tunnels?” Lieut asked as he looked unblinking at Vythe.

Lieut and Vythe exchanged intense stares for many minutes, but eventually Vythe looked away from the steely gaze.

“This direction. Follow me,” Vythe said and he motioned for them to follow him.

“What was that about?” Fairris asked as they jogged through the streets.

“I will tell you later,” replied Vythe. “Now we have to get to the Grand Magi with all haste.”

Concern flooded Lieut’s mind as he followed Vythe, something had happened down that alley that did not bode well. He knew his brother would have taken this same path as he, but there was no way that anyone could have known his mission objective. However, it was likely that the members of the Thieves Guild came to some conclusions and had told Vythe of their concerns. He could not let this jeopardise his brother’s intent in Port Na’brath, but it was also too early to make any conclusive decisions. He would decide later what to do with Vythe.

The storm had increased in ferocity as they moved quickly through the slush and mud of the streets. Vythe turned down a side street and came to a stop next to a large iron grate into which the rain waters were flowing. Quickly he knelt down and lifted the grate and indicated for Lieut and Fairris to jump down. Fairris hesitated, but Lieut did not and he dropped into the darkness below.

His fall ended with a splash and he moved from under the hole, Fairris soon dropped down behind him, and then Vythe behind her.

“Here, take this,” Vythe said when they all stood in the tunnel, and he pulled three chains from his pocket.

The crystals along the tunnel began to glow intermittently in the stone close to the ceiling. Small stone pendants at the end of the chains also began to glow as Vythe handed them out. Lieut slipped his over his head and quickly began his trek down the tunnel.

“Can you tell me what is going on now, Vythe?” Fairris asked as they walked through the ankle deep waters.

“Not yet,” Vythe replied mysteriously. “I will tell you all after we see the Grand Magi.”

“Why are you suddenly interested in seeing the Grand Magi, Vythe?” Lieut asked suspiciously, as he studied Vythe closely.

“Why are you?” Vythe retorted seriously.

“I have Fog in my head.” Lieut narrowed his eyes. “I thought the Grand Magi might know how to help.”

Vythe smirked and shook his head before continuing onwards.

Lieut heard Fairris let out a frustrated sigh, but she did not ask any questions about it.

The thief tunnels continued into the darkness with the green glowing crystals casting light across their path and reflecting off the fast running water.

They continued on in silence, following the course of the water as it moved through the maze of tunnels.

“If you are not going to tell me what put you in such a bad mood, Vythe,” Fairris said breaking the silence, “then perhaps you can tell me the tale of Mandrel?”

Vythe genuinely smiled for the first time since he had come out of the Thieves Guild alleyway.

“Alright,” Vythe agreed. “It all began in the year 1098, in the Third Age when Port Na’brath was not much more than a small fishing village. But this village was special in that the Magi Guild overlooked it. There were not many dealings between the Guild and the villages, they traded now and then and a few of the villages were considered talented enough to study at the Guild, but no more than that.

“It was during this time that the Magi Guild was also receiving much interest and notoriety throughout the realms. So much so, that a fleet from Nevārance one day appeared at the village and virtually bought all of Port Na’brath and attempted to buy the Magi Guild. Of course they were denied in that, but Lord Tharadain of Nevārance did not then depart. Instead he remained and Port Na’brath saw a huge increase in profits and trade. City walls were built and economic classes established, and for many years it was a very pleasant city to live in. But the growing Nevārancien influence was frowned upon by many and actively opposed by others.

“A form of resistance began to grow, especially from the lower classes in The Port, and one night they attacked the Nevārancien Lords. Much blood was spilt, but the resistance was nullified and Lord Tharadain became angry. He increased the taxes within the city as punishment for their unruliness. The people were virtually taxed into poverty.

“One who lost everything in taxes was Mandrel. He used to be a merchant of the middle class, with a small business and was very talented with magicks. But once he lost all his money he ended up sleeping in the gutters of The Pit along with so many others. He became angry at Lord Tharadain and formed another group of resistance, but this time they had a different plan. Instead of taking what they wanted by force, they stole it instead, and thus the Thieves Guild was formed.

“A golden age swept through the lower class of The Port, and continues still to this day,” Vythe finished. “I was always loathed to know that my family are descendants of the Nevārancien Lord, I always wanted to be related to Mandrel.”

“Did Mandrel build all these tunnels?” Fairris asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes,” replied Vythe, “as well as the bridges we will come across. One of which you will no doubt find quite amazing.”

Fairris seemed interested and asked a few more questions. But Lieut was not listening and he pushed on quicker through the tunnels.

*********************************************

So, they have finally reached Port Na'brath. But could it be too late? 

What does Vythe suspect all of a sudden? 

Find out next week.

If you cannot wait until then, by all means purchase the whole ebook and find out what happens before any one else.

Thank you for reading.

- Kaeleb LD Appleby