The
Song of Steel
Book
One - Chapter 25
By W.R. Logan
Copyright 2004 W.R. Logan
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Warrider Claymen
GREGOR
WATCHED PIKE
SITTING ON A STUMP. The
frustration
from hours of useless interrogation
marred
his face. Pike was the best interrogator
in the history
of the Steel Tide. This time, however,
his tactics fell
short. Six hours of questions resulted in
no answers
from his captive.
“Still haven’t gotten anything out of
him?”
Gregor asked.
“Are you kidding?” Pike shook his head.
“I
know more about Solaced than most of the
people
living there. Old Sparsebeard told me
about how the
foundations of the city were built, and
how his father
helped build the sewer system. I even
know the
name of a good smith who will fix my
armor for a
copper a dent. But do I know where
Solaced is? No.”
Gregor looked over at their prisoner.
They had
not even been able to make him give his
name. Pike
started calling him “Sparsebeard” because
the man’s
green beard was filled with large bald
spots. Sparsebeard
gave them a wave of information about
everything
under the sun. Every time Pike asked him
a
question, the druid would answer it with
a story.
W. R. Logan
262
The stories were long, pointless and had
nothing to
do with any of the questions. At first,
Pike tried
beating the information out of the druid.
That just
seemed to make him ramble more.
Pike pushed some of the foliage growing
on his
forehead to the side. He pulled a thread
from his
cloak, and tied it around the red flowers
to hold
them out of his eyes. The foliage was
beginning to
spread. Since the battle, the flowers
went from a
light sprinkling on his head, to a full
bush running
from his head, down his back and starting
on his
forehead. If the magic didn’t wear off,
Gregor
thought Pike would soon grow roots.
Pike must have felt his stare. “They’re
Red
Bells,” Pike told him.
“What?”
“The flowers,” Pike answered. “They’re
Red
Bells. Sparsebeard told me. The red are a
rare sort,
apparently.”
“Oh,” Gregor answered. “I have heard of
those.
Women used to plant them along their
walkways
when their husbands went to war. The
trail was
supposed to help them find their way
home.”
“Sounds like Sparsebeard is rubbing off
on
you,” accused Pike.
“Sorry,” Gregor apologized. “Have you had
the
mages try to break the spell?”
“They said the spell has no known
counter.”
Pike turned his head to the druid. “It
was some type
of growth spell. No one ever thought to
make counters
for growth spells.”
The Song of Steel
263
“Guess no one ever thought we would be
fighting
druids.”
“Why are we fighting druids, Gregor?”
Pike
asked bluntly. “I see no reason in this
madness.”
“Because our king commands it.” Gregor
didn’t
want to openly discuss his misgivings
about the assignment.
“I’m afraid that just doesn’t seem enough
anymore.”
“A man of the Tide is afraid of nothing,”
Gregor
reminded.
“You know it’s not that kind of afraid. I
rode
with your brother in the Slaver War,
Gregor. He will
vouch for my courage well enough.”
“I know,” Gregor agreed. His brother told
him a
great deal about Pike.
“I almost died in Vale.” Pike pointed to
the
druid. “One of those saved my life,
Gregor. And this
is how a man of the Steel Tide repays his
debts.”
“The king has his reasons, Pike,” Gregor
explained.
“We have to trust in him.”
“If I believed there was anything of King
Gyger
left in the man, I would,” Pike promised,
“but he is
just a puppet for the church to use.”
Anger got the best of Gregor and he hit
Pike in
the face with the back of his hand. Pike
tumbled off
the stump and to the ground. The vines on
his head
immediately attached to the earth. Gregor
ran over
and helped the man to his feet. Pike
moaned in pain
as the newly grown roots snapped off and
were left
in the dirt.
“I’m sorry, Pike.”
W. R. Logan
264
“It’s okay. I deserved much more. It’s
just I…”
“I understand. I’ve had the same
feelings.” Pike
lowered his head and drew a deep breath.
Gregor
admitting his doubts seemed to relieve
the tensions.
“Let’s just do our jobs and pass judgment
after the
war.”
“Agreed,” Pike said.
“Now let me see if I have any better luck
with
the druid,” Gregor said.
“Good luck,” Pike told him. “And ask him
how
much that smith charges for dents in
leggings.”
“I’m sure he will tell me that without
asking,”
confirmed Gregor.
The Warrider made his way across the
small
clearing toward the prisoner. They hoped
to loosen
the druid’s tongue by letting him sit in
the sun, but
the rays seemed to bend around the man. A
perfectly
round shade spot encircled the druid.
“So, Sparsebeard,” Gregor said, “That is
one hell
of a trick with the sun there.”
“Wish I could take the credit,” the druid
admitted.
“The enchantment is in the robes.”
“The brownie we captured before you
lacked
that ability,” Gregor said, trying to get
a reaction.
“Garflin?” Sparsebeard asked. “You have
Garflin?”
“We did, but alas, the little one was not
as resistant
to Pike’s charms as you.” Gregor smiled
when
he saw the panic on the druid’s face.
“You see, Pike
never interrogated such a small creature
before. He
didn’t take enough off his blows, and I
am afraid the
brownie’s head burst.”
The Song of Steel
265
“You bastards.”
“Now, now,” Gregor teased, “you had a
hand in
his death as well. It was your root trap
that caught
him.”
“I’m so sorry, Garflin,” the druid
whispered to
the wind.
“Why just him, druid?” Gregor grabbed the
man’s chin. “Over half of my men are dead
by the
river. Do you have no pity for them?”
“None,” Sparsebeard replied firmly.
“Then let’s talk of war,” Gregor
suggested.
“Garflin once told me plant growers know
nothing
of war, and I shouldn’t talk of things I
don’t
know,” the druid said. “So, you want to
talk about
flowers?”
The flowers. Of course, the
flowers. “Do you know
the legend behind those Red Bells?”
“Yes, women planted them to help their
husbands
find their way home from war.”
“You’re quite the historian.”
“Only on plants. The White Bells are used
for a
totally different purpose. They were
thought to
chase unwanted spirits away from
dwellings, or to
keep a wandering spirit in the ground.
Kings used to
have them planted on the graves of men
they executed.
Especially the innocent ones.”
The druid kept on rambling even after
Gregor
stopped listening. Gregor motioned for
Pike to join
him at the stump.
“Get the men ready to move,” Gregor told
him.
“He told you how to get to Solaced?”
W. R. Logan
266
“Not in so many words,” Gregor admitted,
“but
I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Pike ran off to gather the men. Gregor
knew
both he and Pike would feel much better
with a
sword in their hand and a foe to use it
on. This sitting
around gave them far too much time to
debate
the morals of their job. A knight should
be like a
sword and take his king as the wielder. A
sword
never questioned its wielder.
“Leaving so soon?” Sparsebeard called to
him.
“Hope you have a nice trip back to Karal.”
“We aren’t going to Karal, druid,” Gregor
said.
“We are going to find the trail of Red
Bells you
made for us, and see to whose home it
leads.” The
look of shock on the druid’s face told
Gregor his
suspicions were correct. Sparsebeard’s
knowledge of
the flower bled into his spell. At the
end of the trail
of Red Bells would be the druid’s home.
Continued...
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