Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,7
early on the morrow, I believe we can reach Keldrin’s Landing by midday. In any event, we have made too much noise already and there are things out there that will take an interest in us if we continue to beg their attention.”
Halthak felt a chill at Amric’s words, and he rolled to his side to put his back to the rock outcropping while his gaze raked the surrounding darkness. He had heard many tales of the horrors assailing the lands surrounding Keldrin’s Landing. Those tales were scarcely credible, but even if they had grown in the retelling, they were likely based on some small kernel of truth. And any basis in fact to what Halthak had heard was sobering indeed. He wondered, not for the first time, at his own judgment in coming here. He was certain sleep would not come, certain he would lie awake all night waiting for some grinning nightmare to claw its way out of the night and come for him. In the darkest hours of the new morning, however, exhaustion worked at his conviction with its measured touch and proved him wrong.
CHAPTER 2
Amric swirled the tankard of ale in a slow circle, staring into the dark liquid ripples. Two days in this blasted city chasing every stray rumor, and a galling lack of progress to show for it. He felt a twinge of regret for turning Halthak away when they arrived in Keldrin’s Landing. For all the healer’s naiveté, he had seemed far more comfortable within the confines of the city walls than Amric felt. The warrior had to admit that despite the information he had gathered in advance, despite his efforts to prepare, the sheer magnitude of everything here was overwhelming.
He knew the city’s origins decades ago as a military camp established by the dauntless explorer, Keldrin. It was the barest toe hold on the coast of a wild and ancient land dominated by primordial forests. One could still see those martial origins in the grid-like layout of the oldest sections: the docks, the military quarter and the trade district, in particular. From there, with the discovery of the abundance of mineral riches in the region, the growth of Keldrin’s Landing had been far too rapid to maintain its orderly structure. The trade district had spilled over its containment, flowing into new thoroughfares. The huge estates of the wealthiest merchants squatted on a long bluff overlooking the city center, each one an opulent walled fortress in its own right. The residential district encircled the others in a great arc, and the outer wall surrounding everything had been collapsed and rebuilt at various times to accommodate the city’s expanding girth. These days, refugees were arriving from the countryside by the hour, further swelling the city past capacity.
No, Amric had expected the city to have grown from its modest origins, but not this much. Faced with this unexpected sea of humanity, his plan––to enter the city and ask around until he located the specific information and individuals he sought––had produced nothing so far, and the approach now struck him as far too ingenuous to be effective. Valkarr was still wandering the city, hoping to discern a comment or other reaction to his presence that indicated some knowledge of the Sil’ath that had passed this way. His efforts might pay dividends, but suffered from the same problem; it was like attempting to track a particular fish through a vast ocean. The invading sense of futility set Amric’s teeth on edge.
He realized he was swirling the tankard in curt, rapid motions, and its contents threatened to slosh over the lip. He leaned back with a sigh, setting the vessel on the oaken table before him. The din of the Sleeping Boar’s grand common room pressed in about him once more. He pushed a hand through his close-cropped hair and took a steadying breath.
He needed a new plan.
He scanned the crowded room, searching again for new inspiration. Like the rest of the city’s occupants, the patrons of the Sleeping Boar Inn hailed from many races and regions. While the majority of them were human like him, Amric observed a short bird-like creature at the great stone hearth, three furry broad-shouldered figures exchanging whispers at a table near the bar, and a cloaked figure at a corner table whose snout protruded from its deep cowl. Amric frowned at the number of individuals he observed in ornate robes. He assumed them to be magickers of some sort, and wondered how