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E
VEN AFTER THEIR SECOND day on horseback, Iman was still uncomfortable traveling in such a large group. It was odd for her to be so out in the open on main roads. This would be the last day her group would ride alongside Sir Illeum’s men, as they intended to head east before nightfall while Dalvin led her north to Lorig’s Trade.
“It would appear Marco has an admirer,” Dalvin said as he rode up beside her. Narissa had not left his side. She now rode with Marco and the two talked the entire day. Qoraag rode beside them and was never too far away from the child.
“I didn’t even know she could talk that much,” Iman said with a smile.
“I’ve never seen Marco interact with a child before. He’s very good with them, or at least he is with her.” Dalvin wiped his forehead and combed his hair back with his fingers. Iman noticed his gray streak of hair and thought it was out of place. It gave him a unique look, which she appreciated. “I think Qoraag may be jealous of the attention she is showing Marco.”
“You know he can hear you, right?” Iman smirked.
“From way up there?” Dalvin questioned. As if on cue, Qoraag turned his head ever so slightly before focusing again on Narissa and Marco. “Blasted goblins,” Dalvin said under his breath. Iman let out a laugh as she covered her mouth.
“He probably heard that too,” she added as Dalvin joined her in laughter.
“Why do you try to hold back your laughter?” Dalvin asked. Iman had not thought about it and wasn’t even aware she was doing so until he made the statement.
“It has been a while since I could move so freely,” she replied. “I can’t remember the last time I could laugh out loud without being in fear of drawing too much attention to myself.”
“Well, we are surrounded by soldiers and in the company of two Onyx Knights,” Dalvin gestured to the men around them. “I think we are safe from Orrick for the time being. Take advantage of this time and allow yourself to be free.” Iman smiled uncontrollably as Dalvin stared into her eyes. She could feel herself blushing and felt foolish for doing so. She didn’t understand what it was about Dalvin, and even Jacob for that matter, but she was unable to keep her guard up around the two. She was saddened to leave Jacob in Unthar’s Keep but understood he was not able to make the trip at his age. At first she was wary of her new traveling partner, but after getting to know him during the first day she quickly opened up to the sellsword.
The others in the group were a bit more standoffish, outside of Dalvin and Marco. Their friend Oremund rode beside Alvin the whole time and even during rest breaks he never left his side. Alvin was always watched by Sir Warhammer, who she named because of the gigantic war hammer he had strapped to his horse. Sir Illeum and a dozen of his men would always ride in the front of the pack with Clavis and another half dozen soldiers bringing up the rear. Iman could only imagine how the group looked as they traveled up the road passing nearby villages. She looked at the armor Dalvin wore and was intrigued by how different it was compared to the Onyx Guard’s. It wasn’t just the metal the armor was made from. The Onyx Guard wore armor that was basic, but Dalvin’s armor seemed to have a lot more detailed designs.
“I like your armor,” Iman said. “I like the patterns along the shoulders and chest. Do they mean anything?” Dalvin looked down for a second, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing armor, and gave the metal a quick look over before responding.
“Oh, no, they are just designs,” he said, still looking over it. “It was my father’s armor. It is old, but still holds true. I only trust a handful of blacksmiths with it.”
“It’s very lovely,” Iman replied. Dalvin returned her comment with a queer look, which caught her by surprise. “What?” Iman said bluntly.
“Lovely?” Dalvin asked.
“Yes, it is very lovely. Even though you say it is old, it still looks very beautiful.”
“By Isaac’s name,” Dalvin said with a laugh. “The last thing a man wants to hear before riding into battle is that he is wearing lovely or beautiful armor.”
“But it’s the truth,” Iman insisted.
“Wow, look at that knight’s armor,” Dalvin said in a playful, sarcastic tone. “It is so lovely and beautiful. Let’s go kill that bastard and sell it.” Iman burst into laughter that caused Marco and some of the soldiers in front of her to turn their heads. For an instant she thought to cover it up but finally ruled against it. She was enjoying herself and it felt good to laugh again.
“I thought you were a sellsword, not a knight. So looking fierce shouldn’t concern you at all.”
“I beg to differ,” Dalvin countered. “Sellswords have to look the part even more than knights do.”
“Why is that?”
“Knights are nobles. No commoner would dare attack or kill a noble unless they are simply tired of living. You will be hanged or worse for harming nobility. Even in battle once a knight yields all soldiers can do is take them prisoner. So a true knight has nothing to fear except other nobility and maybe some outlaws like Bonderrick. But a sellsword does not have that luxury. Any fool with a pitchfork could decide they want to rise up in the world by taking my head. So it is important I look hard enough that a man would think twice before testing my metal. Now I come to find out this whole time I have been riding into battle looking beautiful instead of fearsome.”
“Oh, you look brave, Dalvin,” Iman said. “Someone would have to be a fool to think you were weak even without your armor.”
“It would appear that is not the case. Just the other night outside of the Broken Chalice a band of trophy hunters thought I looked weak enough to rob and kill.”
“Oh my,” Iman gasped. “When was this? What happened?”
“This was maybe an hour before the incident with Orrick.”
“It sounds like you had an exciting night,” Iman replied. Dalvin shook the notion off.
“Oremund and Marco came around before anything serious happened. They knew who I was and saw my sword. They probably thought I had gold on me or at the least they could gain a fancy blade and a name out of the ordeal. Killing one of the Griffin Slayers and carrying his sword as your own may go a far way in some circles.” Iman just shook her head.
“How does one go from being a knight to a sellsword?” she asked. “If you are going to change professions, why not choose something a bit less risky?”
“Oh, I have been a lot of things over the years. I have been a son, a squire, a knight, a drunk, and now I am a sellsword. Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Extremely,” Iman felt herself blushing again. That quickly went away when she saw the massive figure of Sir Illeum mounted on his horse staring the pair down. She hadn’t noticed him leave the front of the pack until they were already upon him. He circled around on his horse until he was on the other side of Dalvin. Iman found it hard to look at him since he made her the most uncomfortable of everyone there. The laughter and joy she felt a second ago vanished as a dark cloud began to hover.
“Dalvin,” Illeum said in a low voice. “The sewer rat told us how to find the outlaw Tegan Bonderrick.”
“Okay,” Dalvin hesitated. “If you need to break east, it’s fine.”
“Nah, nah.” Illeum quickly waved off Dalvin’s comment. “This is on the way. Clavis and Sir Merek will take their men and head for Blackfire. The rest of us are going to follow the sewer rat to capture Bonderrick.” Iman could see that Dalvin was still perplexed as to why Sir Illeum was telling him this. Then Iman saw the spark in his eyes as he realized what was happening.
“No,” Dalvin said abruptly.
“No to what?” Illeum quickly replied. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“I already have a job,” Dalvin stated firmly.
“Ah, bloody hell,” Sir Illeum exclaimed. “You’ve become a buggersome old fart, haven’t ya? At least hear what I have to say before you go nixing the damn thing.” Dalvin didn’t reply; he just simply nodded his head. Iman could tell these two had history. Unlike the others, Dalvin did not bite his tongue around Sir Illeum. He was never disrespectful, but at the same time he was never in awe of the massive man. “I just need ya to watch over the sewer rat while he meets his contact. I can’t bloody well go with him, now can I?”
“You have two good men in Oremund and Marco,” said Dalvin.
“Piss on Oremund,” Sir Illeum said before spitting to his side. “He’s been eyeballing me the whole trip. Every second I look around I see him eyeing me down. If not for you and the fact that Lord Tarius needs the pale one, I would have taken his head by now.”
“He is just looking out for his friend,” Dalvin replied.
“Exactly, so I can’t very well trust him to go off with the sewer rat and expect him not to set him free. As far as the pale one goes, he seems noble enough, but he is still friends with Oremund and he could easily be persuaded to let Alvin go. No, I need you to go with Alvin to meet his contact. I trust you and I know you will not be stupid enough to mess me over.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Dalvin repeated.
“Bugger off, you foolish...she’s not even paying ya,” Illeum said while furiously pointing to Iman. The sudden focus on her made Iman uncomfortable and she lowered her head from the Onyx Knight’s stare. “I just need you to bring him to the meeting and make sure he doesn’t scurry away.”
“You have men here.” Dalvin waved at Sir Illeum’s soldiers. “You can’t trust your men with this?”
“Aye, I trust them with my life,” Illeum said. “But anywhere in the south we go, I can bet people will recognize my men.”
“Your men are not that famous. You put rags on them and they will blend in like anyone else. Send Marco, Oremund, and two of your best men and you will have enough eyes to watch over Alvin. But just to warn you, Marco and Oremund are sellswords, and this is by definition a new job.”
“You think I am going to give them more coin?” Illeum said in disbelief. “Oremund ain’t going anywhere with Alvin. The two of them don’t leave my sight while they are together, and I will be damned if I pay the pale one any coin from my purse. He is in line to receive a king’s fortune.”
“Gold for steel, my friend,” Dalvin said. “You provide the gold and you receive a blade in return. That’s how sellswords make a living. If you do not provide the gold, then we do not provide the steel.” Illeum paused as he looked over Dalvin then glanced at Iman.
“So if she is not providing gold, then what is she giving you in return?” Illeum questioned as a wicked grin rolled across his face. “Must be something amazing.” Iman could feel Illeum’s gaze on her skin as if he was running his hand down the curves of her body.
“You are a knight, Sir Illeum,” Dalvin said in a deterrent tone. “Act the part.” Sir Illeum tore his gaze away from Iman.
“No need for all of that,” Illeum said. “You northerners take yourselves too seriously. All right then, I will have the pale one do it.”
“Marco,” Dalvin interjected.
“Aye.” Sir Illeum nodded. “I’ll see if he can handle this, but I ain’t paying him a damn coin more than what the warden has already promised. Also, if your pup Oremund keeps eyeballing me, he won’t make it to Heaven’s Gate.” Illeum exchanged a look with Dalvin that Iman could not interpret before he rode ahead to catch Marco. Iman watched as Qoraag began to flank Sir Illeum as he approached Marco and Narissa.
“We will ride with them until they venture east,” Dalvin said. “There is a farming village we will reach by nightfall if we continue north. We will be safe there. The people of the village are friendly. We can restock on supplies there.”
“Will that be safe?” Iman asked. “What if Orrick catches up to us?” Dalvin chuckled.
“Oh, so you think this pretty knight will not be able to protect you once Sir Illeum and his men leave.”
“I think the term I used was lovely,” Iman corrected him as a grin reappeared on her face. The two of them shared a slight laugh.
“I know the people in the village. We will be safe there, trust me.”
