CHAPTER 4: THE CAPTAIN

The pre-dawn air of the Northwest was always cold and crisp. Norrin stood outside the southern-facing walls of Citadel Snowall and breathed it in. Then he watched his breath form little clouds of condensation as he exhaled. Norrin always suffered from bouts of pre-mission anxiety, and he learned that breathing exercises helped calm his mind. He set out early because of this and had some time before he met with the caravan, which he also used it to take in his surroundings. The snowy peaks of the Colorless Mountains bordered north of the massive Citadel, crowning just above the immense light gray-colored walls of stone reinforced with steel that stretched as far as one could see. Only a few buildings inside the Citadel stood high enough to peek over the walls and sat dark and dormant, because the denizens of those places could afford the luxury of sleeping to the early morning hours. But Norrin could hear the slow rise of activity from the lower districts, where the laborers, hirelings and service people lived, as the dawn’s light grew brighter. Norrin imagined someone with an artist’s eye would see this as an idyllic scene of the still sleeping city. The thought of someone capturing the cool colors of the landscape on a canvas helped calm his mind even more and put his anxious nerves at peace. He then set out to the meeting point where the caravan convened to start the journey, and as he expected, the site was buzzing with excited activity in preparation for the journey.

The caravan consisted of a small crowd of men and women, one supply trailer, and one personal transport. It was obvious to Norrin that the people were soldiers, even though they were trying their best to remain inconspicuous in oversized dull and shabby cloaks. But they moved in a disciplined and structured manner, each person fulfilling a role as they loaded up their supplies, which gave away that they were military trained. The supply trailer was a standard issue reinforced box on wheels, large enough to carry all the supplies for a group this size. The personal transport on the other hand, was a bit fancier and stood out. Norrin shook his head in disapproval as he passed it. Something that shiny could be an easy target.
Both the transport and trailer were attached to Crawlers; four wheeled all-terrain vehicles powered with a foot pedal-driven motor that was supplemented by kinetically charged low-energy crystals. They didn’t move very fast, but they were quiet enough that they did not attract any beasts and strong and efficient enough for hauling equipment. Norrin recognized one of the crawlers immediately, and a grin crossed his face.

“New day, Bayron,” Norrin said, greeting the Rotorman who was inspecting and oiling the rotary system of the supply carriage crawler. Bayron was short with dusty brown hair and ragged, thick sideburns. He sported large, muscular legs and arms, an attribute of nearly all Rotormen, resulting from the constant pedaling needed to send power to the wheels and to charge the crystal. Norrin ran a few missions with Bayron before and knew he was one of the better Rotormen to work with on a journey. Having a familiar face to travel with on the wild roads was a rarity, so seeing Bayron eased Norrin’s mind about taking this mission.

“Norrin!” Bayron hollered, while wiping the grease from his hands. His jolly eyes were buried under a thick set of bushy eyebrows, and his boisterous voice carried across the camp. “By the Azuri! You’re the Chaser for this journey? At last, someone with a firelight in their head. For the life of me I cannot make sense of our charges for this trip.”

“Good to see you’re still out here pushing!” Norrin said, giving his old compatriot a hearty handshake and hug. “So, what are we dealing with?”

“There is a small platoon of twenty or so soldiers from Snowall, accompanying those two Emissaries of High Governor Emberdane over there. The Emissaries are riding in that fancy looking personal carriage which will take up the rear. They’re carrying a small chest they are very protective and secretive about. They almost bit m’ head off for suggesting they store it with the rest of the supplies in my trailer! They came with their own private Rotorman, some bloke I do not know, so here’s hope he can keep up.”

“He will have to keep up, if we are to make this itinerary,” Norrin said, glancing again at the personal transport. The Emissaries, wearing long white robes with a navy stripe down the middle, held the small nondescript chest between them, each with a tight grip on their respective handles. On closer inspection, Norrin noticed a small silver chain link leading from the handles to just under each of the Emissaries’ sleeves and noted they were actually chained to the chest. This indicated to Norrin it indeed was holding something too important to be placed in the back of a trailer. The chest would not be leaving the Emissaries’ sides anytime soon.

The two Emissaries stood watching over their neatly uniformed Rotorman with stern faces, as he dutifully checked his crawler and their shiny transport. It was a brand-new luxury model designed for Highborn citizens to ride around the Citadels in comfort but it was modified for travel into the wilds. However, the transport was still fancy looking with a fresh, unblemished crystal white paint job. Norrin again thought it was too flashy but a part of him wondered how it looked on the inside, never having the privilege of traveling in such comfort.

When this mission works out, I’m going to ride like that, just once. He imagined.

“Aye, it’s quite mad if you ask me,” Bayron said, interrupting Norrin’s daydream. “Traveling from here to Steelhaven, then ending the journey in Firstview in eight dawns instead of the usual twelve? It’s a breakneck pace even with the route they chose. Do you have any gist of what this is all about?”

“No, I was only told it was an escort job for some Emissaries on an important mission for the High Governors. I wasn’t told what their mission was, or about the chest they carry.” Norrin stated. “They told me the mission is time sensitive, and gave the route they want to travel, but I have some issues with it. They’re wanting us to cut through the Hollow Cliffs, instead of going south across the borders of the Emerald Nation. I get that it will cut a day off our trip to Steelhaven, but it’s not as safe. I think this is an unnecessary risk.”

“I think so too,” Bayron agreed. “From what I was told, they want to avoid the tax the Emerald Nation has been charging travelers from the Realm whenever they cross the borders. That tax has been a mighty pain in the backside of the Governors of Snowall.”

“Yeah, I was told that too, but it seemed like a flimsy explanation. I’m thinking the High Governors are cooking up something. They want the delivery of this chest to be kept secret from Nation eyes.”
“That sounds right, because with all these soldiers accompanying us it seems more like a military operation than a simple delivery.” Bayron conceded. “I heard the last conference between the Governors and the Nation’s negotiators broke down. Something about the Nation’s evangelicals demanding free entry into the Citadels so they can preach their message. But the Governors aren’t too keen on having their citizens converted to their rival’s religion.”

“You mean they don’t want anyone getting in on the Triton Missionaries’ racket, and taking coin out their pockets,” Norrin joked.

“Ha! Yeah, something like that. Anyway, there was a big hubbub about it, and now there’s even rumors about a Nation army sitting close to Firstview, but who knows if it’s true. What you think is in that chest then? What is it the Governors have, that they have to be all secretive about?” Bron inquired while giving the Emissaries a sideways glance.

“That’s not for us to worry about,” Norrin replied. “Whatever this delivery consists of is above our rank. We should just focus on getting to Firstview in one piece and collecting our pay. Now who do I talk to about this route?”

“Ya didn’t know? None other than the legendary Captain Reynold Graykeeper is running this show! You cannot miss him.” Bayron said with a wink.

“Oh really?” Norrin said with a roll in his eyes. But a twinge of anxiety mixed with suspicion popped in his head. A Highborn military captain in charge of an escort? That’s unheard of! What is really going on here, He pondered.

Norrin headed past a group of soldiers who eyed him suspiciously as he strode into their staging area. He was used to being stared at when he travelled this far North, because not many Southern Niners appeared in the Snowall area. His darker complexion made him stand out from the fair and smooth skinned populace. Whenever he conversed with a Snowaller, he always noticed the way their eyes would drift to the three ceremonial marks above his left eye. He would also hear the whispers about his black beard and long black braided locks that he pulled back into a short ponytail. He usually brushed these things off as simple curiosity. But these looks from the soldiers were colder and different, more apprehensive and Norrin knew why. Soldiers and Chasers usually did not mix well, for a variety of reasons, which cultivated an atmosphere of mistrust between the two groups.
He personally had no problems with Soldiers and respected their jobs. He was once one himself, after all. But they viewed all Chasers, former Soldiers or not, as bad luck. Norrin didn’t believe in luck and felt it had nothing to do with the issues between the two groups. The real issue was Chasers on military runs often reported how Soldiers would ignore a warning and walk headlong into the path of a great beast thinking they could handle the threat. Then, were quick to lay blame on the Chaser when things went wrong and their comrades died. However, this was an important mission, so Norrin hoped that this group would be more professional. Especially, considering the captain in command.

“Greetings Captain Graykeeper, I am Norrin Shai, your Chaser for this journey.” Norrin said as he presented himself. Bayron was correct about not being able to miss Graykeeper. Every other soldier in attendance bore Snowall’s standard issue dull, blueish-grey colored armor. The captain’s armor however, was fully custom, tailored to fit, and colored a brilliant burnished gold, with a short white cloak attached.

“Ah yes, what is it you need, Chaser?” Graykeeper addressed Norrin without looking in his direction.

Sir Reynold Graykeeper was only a few years older than Norrin, but he stood at least a head above him and most other men. He was broad shouldered, with fair skin, hair like white-gold and a handsome face. His only flaw was a nose that had been broken several times and jutted at different angles. However, that imperfection never stopped the women from flocking to him. Norrin knew of the Graykeeper name and lineage of almost legendary military commanders and he bristled at the inflated sense of self-importance oozing off the captain. Graykeeper was a storied soldier and elite swordsman. One of the best in the entire realm, if not all of Teoria, beyond doubt. But the stories of the respect Graykeeper demanded, and the way he treated those he believed were beneath him were concerning.

“I have some thoughts on our route, sir,” Norrin said, feigning respect for the chain of command while rolling out his map. “I understand we are to cut directly through the Hollows, but if we head south, and stick close to this ridgeline, we can still avoid the Nation’s borders. It is safer and would only add half a day’s light to the journey. Then we can head back north to hit the main road into Citadel Steelhaven. Then, instead of going off route towards…” But Norrin did not get a chance to finish his thought, before Graykeeper raised a hand to cut him off.

“We agreed to hire you on because of your experience and long track record of reaching destinations as fast as possible.” Graykeeper began. He spoke with a sharp monotone voice, in the manner of a man that was used to giving orders and not answering questions. He moved in close and towered over Norrin, looking down on him with his steely blue eyes. An obvious intimidation technique he honed over the years. “This is the path that was chosen for our mission. If that is a problem, we can find another rabbit to accompany our trip.”

“I understand Captain Graykeeper, but it is because of my experience I can tell you the Rotormen and your soldiers may find it difficult to maneuver through the narrow passes on this route. If it’s the checkpoints or Emerald Nation patrols you are worried about, I know of paths we can take to avoid them,” Norrin retorted through gritted teeth and glared back at the captain with his own near onyx-colored eyes. He heard the subtle insult the Captain threw at him when he called him a rabbit, a joke term Trapsmen used to refer to Chasers behind their backs, but he chose to ignore it. Graykeeper would have to do better than that to get under his skin.

“Don’t assume things about my people or what I am ‘worried’ about. Just keep your eyes on the road ahead and be ready to do your job.” Graykeeper instructed.
Norrin picked up on the captain’s dismissive tone and decided to no longer press the issue. It was a power game to Graykeeper; one Norrin knew to avoid. He would not be intimidated, but he did not feel the need to get into a pissing match on the verge of his biggest payday ever.

“The Chasers are always ready,” Norrin replied as he walked away. He dealt with Highborn soldiers like Sir Reynold Graykeeper before. He knew behind all their bravado, lied a layer of insecurities and the need to prove they are the toughest, bravest person in the room. Norrin decided long ago he no longer needed to prove anything to anybody. All he wanted was to survive to see the sunrise on the next day.