- Chapter 22 -

 

The investiture of the new Lord of Jaglundar's Lord was an event laden with sadness. Seventy-eight Murgands had come to fight for their heritage, but in the end only two lived to march down Stonecleaver's Walk and break the seal that, centuries before, had been put in place on the doors of the throne-room by the previous Lord of The Rock.

Tollen, who would have performed the ceremony, had passed away during the night, and it was Brossganth's first duty to see that the wiseman was sent to join the Ancestors in a fitting fashion. The new Lord dragged the body, wrapped in a simple blanket, the full length of the crawlway to the prayer-hole, where he placed the traditional burial goods - a prayer-candle, a hammer-axe and a bottle of the finest "warrior's ale" - before sealing both ends of the tunnel shut.

"A Murgand to the last", Brossganth sighed as he stepped back from the sealed opening to the prayer-hole tunnel. "True to his word - he lived long enough to see Jaglundar's Rock restored to its founding folk."

There was little glory in the restoration of Murgand rule, and that was quickly tarnished by the arrival of a rather bedraggled Nadel Bresquet and some of his crew. "Why was I not summoned?", he demanded to know. "We - we have a right to be here..."

"You are not Murgand", snarled Brossganth, "and therefore you have no rights at all on our soil, save those rights I, the Lord of The Rock, choose to grant you."

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, Hu'Man", snorted Broxka, now acting as both the Lord's body-guard and the armed forces of the Rock. "It won't break my heart to throw you into the jaws of Deepscar Rift."

"My Lord, there is no need...", the Reclamationist began, but there were soon two huge shadows hanging over him.

"I have heard all I need to hear, little man", growled the new Lord. "It seems as though you were rather too eager to have your masters send their ultimate weapon. If such power was available to you, it makes me wonder why you felt the need to call upon our warriors in the first place. Were they perhaps...expendable? Was I equally expendable? So expendable that you couldn't even be bothered to check that anyone was still alive before launching your weapon?"

"We...we use that particular device only under extreme circumstances...", spluttered Bresquet, his usual confidence crumbling surprisingly rapidly. "All our soldiers went with your people, and...and I had to do something to protect my crew..."

"Your ship barely got out of range of the weapon", said Brossganth coldly. "The Succubus, a fully functional ship, almost didn't get away either. No, I don't think your crew had anything to do with your decision - and this sorry business gives me reason to question the morals and motives of your entire organisation. Your actions tell me far more than your fancy words, and I will not permit your people to take the star-metal from this place. It is dangerous enough on its own, let alone in your hands."

"Now hold on a minute", exclaimed Bresquet. "You have no say in the deal! The contract is between my people and Lord Cinderbeard, no-one else!"

"The Cinderbeard clan and the Lord of The Rock have always had a good relationship, even more so now that the two are one", stated the Murgand warrior. "I will recommend that our people cease all trade with you."

"You cannot do that!", cried Bresquet. "We...we have lawyers...!"

"And we have warriors", Brossganth responded. "Many warriors. We would not be afraid to declare war upon you."

"But I don't see a whole lot of warriors right here, do I?", Bresquet bit back. "What's to stop us from taking this place for ourselves? There's only two of you!"

Brossganth glanced at Broxka, and the female Murgand produced the control device for the Reclamationist war-machine. "Three", she announced with an expectant smile.

Bresquet laughed a nervous, almost frantic laugh. "You have no idea how to operate that", he smirked.

A lone figure stepped out from behind the Reclamationist, took the controller from Broxka, and stood beside the Lord of The Rock. "Maybe not", said Bjalser, "but I do."

Bresquet's hand shook as he pointed at the Shaelin telepath. "You...you're fired...", he muttered.

"Oh, thank you", said the elfin man mockingly. "You just saved me the hassle of quitting."

"Leave now", advised Brossganth. "The time has come, I think, to make my first declaration as Lord of Jaglundar's Rock...and that is 'Let no Reclamationist set foot on this territory again, lest he be put to death.'"

Bresquet was immediately struck dumb, and his reservoir of self-assuredness, already running low, dried up in an instant. Unable to deliver any kind of retort, he whirled round on his heel and stormed away, the other crewmen scurrying away in his wake.

"Former employees are, of course, not included", Brossganth added, looking down at Bjalser, and then at Strides-Tall and the others. "Can I count you all in that number?"

"It'll be a test of my will-power - they've been a rich source of adventure in the past", said the elf, "but I think I can do without the Reclamationists from now on."

Brossganth then turned to Marishanna. "You have the only independent ship in the area", he said. "Would you take word of our situation back to my people? I see hard times ahead, and the sooner a colony is reestablished here, with its own force of warriors, the better."

"Only if you promise to let me know, should you find yourselves undermanned", said the leather-clad Salvandireen woman. Strides-Tall noticed that Marishanna made no mention of severing her connections with the Reclamationists, which added to her suspicions surrounding the diminutive elfin warrior-woman.

I get the feeling we'll be seeing a lot of this one from now on, the elf thought, watching the captain of the Succubus out of the corner of her eye, and seeing how Marishanna rarely took her eyes off Raven,and even went out of her way to brush against the dancer's hair and long white boots. Well, if there's anyone who can watch out for herself, it's Raven, that she's proved beyond all doubt.

Raven barely noticed Marishanna, nor did the events taking place around her fully register in her mind. For everyone else, Brossganth's investiture marked an end to matters, but for her, there was still business to attend to. The Dravwyrn had said that two of his creatures, and in Strides-Tall's case, creatures-to-be, had escaped the Reclamationist bomb, and Raven was praying that the other creature, now free-willed after its creator's destruction, was Almin.

This chapter of my life won't be closed until I find him, and cure him, she told herself. Neither ship reported seeing anything leave before the explosion, but...somehow, I know he's out there. Sooner or later, our paths will cross again - I get the definite feeling that this isn't the last adventure I'll be having.

Raven smiled to herself, and imagined the scene as she brought Ashyra's brother back to her. To make that day-dream, come true, the tall, black-tressed dancer would have gladly faced the Dark Dravwyrn and The Darkening all over again, many times over.

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