Montoya Valley, chapter 5

Diego and Romero sat in the barracks with the other scouts, during the late afternoon, sharpening their weapons. Everyone, of course, was trading friendly insults and challenges of their fighting abilities. Rather predictably, the youngest scout got up to prove his skill with his war hammer, and the weapon slipped from his grasp, banging into the Captain's metal shield.
Romero snickered. "Better tie a rope onto that thing, Marco. Then you can throw it at the goblins and reel them in like fish!"
Diego was less amused that the others. His brain still felt tired, thinking about the "special assignment" that the Captain had hinted about earlier that day. "You'd better get that shield down to Higgins and get it fixed. Captain'll give you two days of latrine duty for it this time."
The young boy, barely thirteen summers when he joined the scouts, groaned. Marco stuffed the small shield under his tunic, and took off running from the barracks, towards town.
Before the barracks door could close, a slim, feminine hand grasped the side and pulled it open again. The scouts started a new round of snickers, as most of them recognized the bronze ring on her hand. They exchanged winks and glances, as Charmain stepped into the room and Romero blushed. She paused to scan the room, smiling when she saw Romero and Diego.
"Diego, I'm here to bring you to the castle. You are to start lessons to read and write." As Diego started to stand, Romero gave him a sly look.
"Charmain, seeing as how I'm Diego's best friend, and sometimes partner, maybe I could come along as well?" He smiled broadly, as the other scouts made whispered comments.
The healer rolled her eyes. "I know exactly what it is you'd like to be reading, Romero, and it'll take you much more than a smile to get that!" The other scouts snickered, and one even batted his eyelashes at Romero in jest. Diego left his sword neatly on his bunk, and followed the healer as she departed with a swish of her skirts.
They went quickly into the castle, the scout still thinking about the assignment. The hallways were full of servants, preparing the evening meal, cleaning, or running errands for Prince -- no, Duke Gerard. Then Diego remembered that the burial for a Duke required an honor guard of four warriors. Maybe that was the assignment?
They finally arrived at a heavy wooden door, that Charmain pushed open. They stepped forward into the library, Diego gaping at the several rows of shelves, filled with books and scroll cubbies. The healer laughed, and pinched his arm. "You don't have to read all of them. Go sit down at the table," she gave him a push towards the two chairs, "and your teacher will be back in a few minutes."
Charmain left the room with another swish of her skirts, but Diego scarcely noticed. He started walking down one row of shelves, taking in the large numbers of books upon scrolls upon books. The sheer amount of knowledge, packed into such a small place, both excited and daunted him at the same time. He walked to the end of the row, and back up again.
Diego passed the table, still scanning the rows of books and taking it all in. The small library smelled of ink and old leather, not too much unlike the stables. He kind of liked it. He slowly lifted his hand up to one book, fingertip barely brushing the surface of the leather, and the pressed letters on the book bindings. He was at the end of the row, near the wall, when he heard the door open.
Quickly he turned around, but in his haste a scroll fell off the shelf. It struck the floor before he could catch it, but his hand snapped it up before it could bounce again. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to have a look around," he spurted out his apology as he moved towards the main aisle and the table. "Please, I didn't mean to knock anything ... down ... "
Diego's voice trailed off as he gulped, and noticed who had entered the room. Soft leather boots, dyed black. A pure linen dress, dyed a dark forest green, and a green felt sash tied around a slim waist to keep it in place. A dark black cloak was draped over her shoulders, barely hanging above the floor. He skipped up over the breasts to her face. (Not wanting to get in any more trouble by staring, of course.) Pale, smooth skin, ringed by light blond hair, and warm brown eyes watching him from behind long eyelashes. Her eyes sparkled for a moment, changing to a clear blue, then back to brown.
"Hello, Diego. Are you ready for your reading lesson?" asked Irini Montoya.

The gate guards chuckled as they saw Marco running from the barracks, and opened up the gate to let him out towards the town. Being the youngest of the scouts, he was always being taunted or goaded into trying to show off, and it usually ended in something bad for him.
Marco made the edge of the city very quickly, and skidded into the smithy. Holding one arm to his belly to keep the shield in place, he looked around quickly for the dwarf. Not seeing him, Marco dumped the shield behind the anvil, out of sight, and ran further down the road to the tavern. He paused outside the door briefly to catch his breath, then pushed his way inside.
"Higgins, smithy sir!" Marco still sounded a little winded, but at least he wasn't gasping for breath. "I need your help with a job."
The dwarf smiled slightly at the young boy, and leaned back on the stool with his ale. "Oye? An' just what do ye need ol' Higgins fer, me boy?"
Marco sighed and hung his head. "The Captain's shield, sir, it got, well, a little dent in it, see, and I'm needing it fixed before nightfall."
The dwarf snorted, and gulped down his ale. "Well, me best patrun, let's go see 'bout this shield, then. I's guessin' that yer Captin don' know nothin' 'bout it yet?" Marco nodded miserably, as they walked out the door.
Kiwin smiled to himself, sitting next to the empty fireplace. The boy reminded Kiwin of himself when he was younger, a boy living on the streets of El Marid, picking pockets, dancing and singing for coins. Then of course, the Chief saw him, and offered him food and shelter for work. If only he had known then ...
Higgins ambled down the road slowly, while Marco trudged beside him, head hung low. Inside the smithy, the dwarf picked up the dented shield, and examined it carefully. "Oye, ye did a roight fine job on this one, ye did! What'd'ye do, bash a goblin o'er the 'ead with it? It'll cost ye, eh, ten silvers, lad." Marco sighed, and started to reach into his tunic pouch when a voice from the door stopped him.
"I'll pay for it." Kiwin flipped a gold coin to the dwarf. "Put anything extra towards the next thing he needs repaired." The startled smith managed to catch the coin, and Marco simply stared as the bard dipped his head in a farewell, and walked away down the street.
Higgins shook his head, and pulled a piece of glass down off a shelf. Several agonizing moments later for Marco, the dwarf grunted. "Eh. This coin's wurth fi'tin silvers, or I's a bearded gnome!" He happily pocketed the coin, and intent again on the shield, didn't notice the scout slip out the door.
Down the street, Marco caught up to Kiwin just before he opened the door to the Black Boar. "Sir .. sir," he panted, "I .. I just .. want to thank .. you for helping .. me. No one .. no one's ever helped me before."
Kiwin smiled to himself, noticing even more in the beaten-down attitude and general wariness, a resemblance to himself. "Tell me boy, what's your name?"
He puffed out his chest in pride. "I am Marco, of the Montoya Scouts!" Kiwin hid a smile, as the underfed boy hardly looked the part of a strapping warrior. The bard wondered how the boy had stayed alive, since he obviously never had enough to eat before joining the scouts.
"Let me give you some advice, young scout, something that all young warriors learn." Kiwin leaned forward to whisper. "A real warrior knows he doesn't have to show off. Because showing off can hurt a friend just as much as real fighting can hurt a monster."
Marco stood still for a moment, thinking over what the bard had just said. "You're that bard, that sings here every night, aren't you?" As Kiwin nodded, he grinned. "I thought so. I'd love to hear you, but me Da says I have to become a real warrior before I can spend my time wasting about in a tavern." He sighed, and something of the beaten, wary look came back to his face.
Kiwin smiled. "Well, the next time you're going on your rounds, stop by the tavern. It would be a shame if anything ever happened to it. I'm sure the people would feel safer and more secure knowing the guards are looking in on them to insure their safety."
Before Marco could reply to that, Higgins stuck his head out the smithy door and shouted something. Marco dipped his head, and with a quick, "Thank you, sir!" went sprinting off up the street. He grabbed the repaired shield from Higgins' hand, and tucked it under his tunic without breaking stride.
As the dwarf looked back down the street, Kiwin smiled and gave a small bow in salute. Higgins started to return it, then caught himself, and stormed back inside the smithy. The bard smiled ever wider as the sounds of furious hammering came echoing down the street. He opened the door of the tavern with one hand, the other hand stroking the silver flute through his tunic.
I could get to like this town, and with time, maybe they might get to like me, he thought.
If he only could have heard it, the flute agreed with that thought as well.

Canaan glanced over his shoulder, as he turned the winch and lowered the gate. The poor little kid shouldn't be in the guards. In his homeland, all the children grew up to be strong. They didn't have another choice.
He watched out over the road and the open farming fields. The sun had vanished behind the mountains several minutes before, and the soft pink clouds somehow seemed out of place with the danger the valley was facing. He skipped his gaze over a trio on patrol, then back to his endless scans of the fields. He shifted his weight back and forth. Something was going to happen tonight, something bad. He could feel it in his foot.

Marco reached the barracks, and quickly slipped in the door. Since most of the scouts had gone back to doing their rounds, the barracks was empty, except for the few sleeping quietly. He carefully took the shield out from under his tunic, and replaced it next to the Captain's equipment. With luck, he'd never notice.
Romero cracked one eye open, watching the youngest scout. He kind of liked the kid, if only Marco would learn to stop rising to every ridiculous challenge the others put him up to. Romero watched him silently replace the shield, and put on the threadbare, black cloak he had, and sneak out of the barracks again. As the door closed, the older scout rolled from his bunk, and strapped on his sword and buckler. Marco wasn't supposed to have night duties, since he hadn't been with the Scouts for two years. Romero eased the door open, and spotted the cloaked boy just leaving the gate. He cursed silently, and headed for his secret spot in the wall, easily climbable.

Kiwin took a healthy drink from his tankard of wine, and flexed his fingers. One of the townsfolk had found an old lute, a family heirloom, unused for years. One of the strings was missing, and it took him a full ten minutes to tune, but otherwise it sounded perfect. He had just finished the Prince of Shapier -- again -- and the chords were hard on a normal instrument!
The area in the center of the room was mostly cleared, used on occasion for the couples who could dance. Kiwin smiled, and struck up a fast beat, a fast melody of a sailor's jig. As he thought, two couples got up and started dancing as he sung the bawdy tune. Halfway through, Kiwin noticed a small figure in a black cloak enter the room, and slip into a dark corner. That must be the young boy, Marco! he thought, smiling even wider.
He ended the jig, moving right into another fast dance, and a third couple joined in on the dance floor. Halfway through this song, another one of the guards, this one with belted sword and shield, entered. He seemed to be watching Marco, though Kiwin couldn't tell why.

Caine groaned, as he finally regained consciousness. He didn't know how long he had been there, leaning against the tree, but the blood covering his head and shoulder had long since dried. Closing his eyes, he forced away the lingering pain, and concentrated on his link with the ghoul, Flynn. Apparently, the ghoul had not awakened while he was unconscious. Definitely a good sign.
He carefully rose to his feet, straightening out the sheath of his massive sword, Heartbreaker. A short distance away was a stream, and he washed most of the blood off. The sun would be setting any minute, so he would have to hurry to the graveyard before Flynn awakened and rose from his resting place. Stretching again, he took off at a fast jog. Just after the sun vanished behind the mountains, he reached the metal gates of the graveyard, and pushed them open.
As he expected, Flynn tore loose from the earth only seconds later. The undead scout took in the damage to Caine, and smiled a toothy, fanged smile. The exile merely glared. "We have work to do, Flynn. Time to visit some of your old friends in town."
The ghoul snarled silently. Inside the town? Who would he kill first -- that arrogant tavern owner? The drunken dwarf? Or maybe, he'd get lucky and run into Diego! He flexed his claws, flakes of dirt and grime falling from them.
Caine smiled thinly. Yes, Flynn was still under his control. He gestured with his hand, and the two of them started off. They went slowly, going from hiding place to shadow, avoiding the many patrols. Finally, they reached the edge of the village proper. Up the street, Caine could see the splash of light as someone opened the door to the tavern. He could feel the emotions, relaxation/happiness/peace with the undercurrent of fear. The fear was what he wanted to spread.
They crept from building to building, hiding in doorways and between buildings. Even after dark, there was still a fair amount of traffic in the village. Caine was growing tense, as every time someone passed them, he had to restrain Flynn through the link, to prevent the ghoul from jumping out and attacking. Half an hour later, they eventually reached the point Caine wanted, a small space between buildings, directly across from the tavern door. He waited, watching the street both directions, sensing where the people were. When the street was completely clear, he stepped out into the open, and strode over to the tavern door. Reaching out with one hand, he ripped the door clean off the hinges, taking most of the doorframe with it.
Flynn leaped forward into the opening, mouth open in a silent scream. Kiwin's music had stopped instantly, as the townsfolk screamed and rushed backwards. Romero had his sword drawn and ready, and behind him was Marco with a dagger, looking scared but ready. Caine laughed, stepping in behind the ghoul. Several of the townsfolk gasped in fear/apprehension as they recognized him, and the exile fed upon their emotions.
"Yes! Recognize me, for I am Caine! I am the ruler of Montoya valley, and I have returned to take back what was torn from me!" Flynn darted forward against Romero, who frantically blocked the sharp claws. Caine laughed again, a deep, evil laugh. Romero swung his sword, but the deep gash closed upon itself and healed instantly.

On the wall above the castle gate, Canaan's foot twinged.

"If you oppose me, you will die!"
Someone from the crowd shouted back, "If we don't we'll die anyway!" Caine glared, and Flynn leaped forward towards the pack of people, even as Romero moved to block. A woman screamed, and Kiwin saw the spray of blood as Flynn's hand ripped through her body. He clutched the lute weakly, isolated on the edge of the crowd. If Flynn came for him ... he was a dead man. The silver seemed to twinge inside his shirt. He shrugged. If he was going to die ... might as well try something.
Kiwin dashed around the crowd, behind the ghoul. The other people were keeping him at bay for the moment, holding chairs and hiding behind tipped tables. The bard grasped the lute firmly, and brought it smashing down over the top of Flynn's undead skull. The lute shattered, old wood splintering and strings snapping in painful protest. The ghoul actually dropped to his knees, as Kiwin gaped in surprise, still holding the neck of the instrument.
Then Flynn shook his head, and started to rise to his feet again. Kiwin quickly leaned forward, and slammed the pointed end through the ghoul's arm, and into the rib cage. Flynn howled silently; that hurt! He stumbled away, mouth open in silent agony. The ghoul crashed past Caine, fleeing for his resting spot in the cemetery.
Kiwin, Caine, and everyone else simple stood and gaped for a moment. Then the exile's face darkened, and Heartbreaker came out of the sheath on his back. Kiwin's face paled, and he took a step backwards. Unfortunately, his heel landed on the arm of Flynn's victim, and he fell heavily onto his back. Caine smiled, grimly, and stepped forward, sword at the ready.
With a wordless cry, Marco ran forward from his spot in the corner. His dagger flashed forward, and a green burst of magical lightning zapped forth from the dagger into Caine's armor. Both combatants stumbled backwards, and at that moment, Higgins entered the tavern. His axe, enchanted with dwarven runes, slammed heavily into Caine's armor, a bright shower of sparks springing forth as he fought to drive Caine back towards the exit. As if on cue, everyone in the tavern took up everything that came to hand -- chairs, table legs, mugs, plates, knives and daggers, and advanced upon Caine. With Marco's dagger, Higgins' axe, and sheer numbers, they forced him out of the tavern and into the street.

From the wall, Canaan spotted the crowd, and his foot felt cold and dead from Caine's evil aura. He jumped over the wall, landing heavily on the road, and started running, ignoring the cries of the guards behind him.

In the road, Caine stepped back, and parried a swing from the dwarf. Raising one hand free from the sword, he reached out towards the shadows. The night gaunts answered his call, a half dozen of them oozing out of the shadows. The grim determination turned again to fear, as the makeshift weapons of the crowd proved useless against an enemy that could not feel them. Despite Marco's newfound magical powers and the dwarven axe, the people were pushed back into the building.
Canaan came pounding down the road, sword in hand and silver foot thrumming with magical energy. He jumped into the air, sword swishing harmlessly through a night gaunt, before the silver foot slammed into the magical creature, banishing it from the mortal world. Caine scowled, and called again, summoning more night gaunts. A second gaunt fell to the axe, two more to Marco's magic, and Caine vanished into the darkness.
Kiwin pressed himself back against the wall, as the night gaunt towered over him. He had taken the flute from his pocket at some point, and held it like a talisman. Think, Kiwin, think! The silver affects them! How?!? He stabbed forward with it, but the flute passed harmlessly through the gaunt, just like his dagger had before. The spectral creature seemed to laugh, as it reached for him. Kiwin drew a last breath, and put the flute to his lips. At least he would die looking good. He fingered the keys, and blew gently, as the first bar of "Banysh Mysfortune" came from the flute. The night gaunt shrieked in agony, its magical essence dissolving as the magic of the flute worked upon it.
Canaan hammered another gaunt with his foot. Marco managed a burst of fire that took down another, then he fainted from the strain. Higgins' axe swung left and right, every pull of his arms damaging the gaunts. A farmer fell, his face contorted in agony as a gaunt sucked the energy from his body.
Kiwin opened his eyes, to see the gaunt vanished. He looked over at the other townsfolk, and drew in a deeper breath. With more confidence than he really felt, he put the flute to his lips again, and started the song. All along the street, the gaunts froze in pain, as the piercing sound and magic of the flute ensnared them. One by one, they dissolved, as Kiwin's song engulfed them and destroyed them.
Finally, the song finished, and he fell heavily against the wall. The tavern keeper was at his side in a moment, supporting the bard.
Canaan and Higgins looked up the street to see Gerard and Cirra running up, followed by a dozen guards. Gerard surveyed the scene, as Cirra moved to help heal the people still alive. Higgins met the Duke's gaze, and nodded silently. Then, Gerard said what everyone was fearing. "Where is Caine?"

Somehow, Diego managed to not drop the scroll a second time. He did feel quite dizzy, though, and must have swooned, because Irini suddenly looked alarmed and started forward. He caught himself just in time, and fell to one knee. "M'lady Irini!" He gulped, and could feel the heat rising from his face.
She stopped, and grabbed his shoulder. "Stand up, Diego. You are here to learn how to read, and I can't teach you if you're going to stay there on the floor." He gulped, and rose. Her hand felt soft, but strong and confident. Hurriedly, he thrust that thought from his mind, afraid of where it might lead. He kept his gaze down, and followed her over to the table.
"Look at me, Diego." He hesitated, afraid still of what would happen. He had seen Irini in the garden of Erana, but what about her mother, the infamous Duchess? The lady who almost killed two of her servants because they served her dinner the wrong way? "Look at me, Diego." Her voice held masked power, and he slowly raised his head to look at her face, still keeping his gaze low, on her chin.
She reached forward with her hand again, grasping his chin, and pulling his head up. In surprise, his eyes met hers, staring into the warm, dark brown eyes she had. "Diego. I realize that I am your lady. But while you are here in this library, more importantly, I will be your teacher. It will be much easier for you to learn if you relax a little bit. I am not going to suddenly snap. I am not my mother!" She paused, watching in his eyes for understanding. "I am here to teach you how to read and write. Partly because I am the only person in this castle with the time to teach you, but mostly because I feel you are a person I can trust."
Diego nodded slightly, unsure exactly what she wanted from him. She sighed softly, and released her hold on his chin, stepping back. She sat, gesturing at the other chair, and after a moment of hesitation, Diego sat down as well.
"Now," Irini said, "you have to start by learning the alphabet. There are two dozen letters that make up all written words ... "

The hours flew by. Three hours later, Diego had memorized the alphabet, forward and backwards. Irini was secretly pleased at his fast progress. She glanced at the time candle, surprised that the three hours had passed already. She started to rise, and the still skittish Diego quickly jumped to his feet. "Well, Diego," she yawned, "you did most excellent for your first day! It is late, and you need to get some sleep before your rounds tomorrow."
With a gesture, she magically erased the words written on the slate, and Diego bowed to her, and started for the door. Just before he reached it, she stopped him.
"Tomorrow, I expect to see you here at the same time, Diego." As he reached for the latch a second time, she raised her hand. "Just a moment." Irini walked over and stood in front of him for a moment, staring into his eyes. She smiled slightly, sensing that he was still wary of her. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. Diego was completely shocked for a second or two, and tried to pull away, but her arm was already around his back, and there was no escape for the scout. After another moment, he started to kiss her back.
Just when Diego thought it would never end, Irini's arm loosened, and she broke the kiss, stepping back and breathing deeply. He stood in shock for a moment, before lifting the latch, throwing the door open, and fleeing down the hall as fast as he could run. He couldn't decide which was worse -- his fear of a lady who would kill him on a whim, or the reality of a lady, far above his station, who was interested in him.

Diego stopped briefly, examining his face in the old polished steel of an old suit of armor. His face was a bright, flushed red. He still wasn't sure why he had run, but after a few moments of thinking, decided that he was too afraid of what might have happened if he stayed there with Irini. He thought of the kiss she had just given him, and shivered pleasantly, imagining for a moment what might have happened if he had stayed. Then he forced such treasonous thoughts from his mind. Falling in love with a lady like that, the sister of a Duke, was inviting trouble on himself.
He straightened back up, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Then he heard the whispers from the servants coming up the hallway. Diego glanced around, then quickly ducked behind the suit of armor, to listen without being noticed.
" ... I'm telling you, that was Caine in the town! He raised Flynn from the dead, and used the ghoul to attack the people!"
"Oh sure! And I suppose, it's just coincidence that bard, and the cripple Northman, happened to be there at the same time? You heard what they are crediting the bard with!"
"That's why it has to be true! If that flute worked against humans, don't you think he would have used it by now? Charmed Gerard and taken what we have in the treasury?"
"I still say it's too suspicious. They both show up the same night Flynn kills himself with that book. Then they supposedly help drive off the night gaunts that Caine summoned? Something else is going on around here, and .. "
The voices faded off as the servants went around a corner, and Diego realized with a shock that his hand was reaching for a sword he didn't have. He leaned back against the cold granite wall, and tried to force his thoughts still. Caine, the evil uncle of Gerard and Irini, who had been banished for practicing necromancy. He was seen inside the town, with Flynn raised as an undead? That sounded bad enough, let alone that Caine could summon Night Gaunts, the wraith-like undead, affected only by magic. But they said something about the bard driving the night gaunts away. That didn't make any sense. If Kiwin had magical powers, then why would he bother to travel like a poor bard?
Diego closed his eyes, his hands clenching with the tension he felt. If Caine had been seen in the town, then no doubt Gerard already knew about it. He hoped that nobody had been seriously hurt. He glanced out into the hallway, then stepped out from behind his hiding spot, and started back towards the barracks.