by Brad Carsten
“I've never been there myself, but I've spent a lot of time travelling to some of the towns along the way. Here's your drink, Sir.” He moved too quickly and spilled some over the side of the mug.
The Captain didn't take it, but he drew a map from his cloak and rolled it out across the table, still giving Liam that searching look. “So which route would you suggest we take to get to Gosspree-nor? You know where Gosspree-nor is, right?”
Liam leaned over studying the map. His father didn't approve of the things and probably would have told the Captain so. When he was younger, he'd lost the map along with all of his food and belongings to bandits and had nearly died trying to find his way back. Maps were fine before you set out if you hadn't been that way before, but his father always had him commit the way to memory first. On top of that, Liam found the world intriguing and had spent hours pouring over the maps in Master Blithe’s inn, imagining the faraway towns and making up people and adventures to go along with them.
This map was different to any he had ever seen. There were no oceans, too few rivers marked on it and the borders seemed off. He read a few of the names, and those were also unfamiliar. But the line of mountains to the east, in the shape of a crescent moon, were unmistakable even if they weren't accurately depicted.
He rotated the page to reposition north and traced his finger back to where the village should be in relation to that. There was a name close by, but that too was unfamiliar. Further along was the name Dunwhist, but that would have placed it too far west. Liam slid his finger down the page and stopped at the point where two rivers were intersecting. If that was the Tael and Imber rivers then the village had to be the correct one. All the while, the Captain watched him closely.
“Okay, your map doesn't show it exactly,” Liam said, “but I imagine this is our village. He tried to pronounce the name as it was written on the map, and failed miserably. Gosspree-nor would be somewhere over here. Using the Blue Crescent mountains and village as a reference, he pointed to another empty spot on the map. “Mountains cover this area as well, but there is a pass roughly here,” he slid his finger across and down. “That should take you through. The hunting is okay this time of the year, but once you get into the mountain, you'll battle to find anything, so make sure you take at least two days’ supply with you.”
“That's all I wanted to know, thank you.” He rolled up the map carefully and slipped it back into its pouch, and Liam was left wondering if he had overstepped his bounds. He probably shouldn't have said anything about the hunting. These were kingdom soldiers. Of course they'd know enough about the land to know what they needed to do. He just wanted this to be over and to get back to Tarla.
Soon they’d be heading off to the Avocado inn, and they'd probably only get back late the next day, so he'd like to see her before they leave. Even though his father wouldn't be there, he had been looking forward to this day for months, and now all he wanted to do was stay behind with Tarla. It was ridiculous. If he ever started singing outside her window, he'd drop one of master Lowold’s anvils on his foot and give himself a reason to sing.
The door opened and another figure, drawing off his gloves, entered the room. The man almost reached the top of the door and near filled its width, and he carried two swords hanging at his side. Unlike the kingdom armour, his armour was black.
He didn't salute. “If the tracker isn't here, we should leave. I want to reach the next village before nightfall.”
Liam suddenly realised who this was, or rather what he was, and almost backed into the table. Apart from the army, the king had his own elite fighting unit. Each man was a hero with enough stories to fill volumes. When most armies had one or two heroes that would stand out above the others, making a name for themselves that would be whispered from village to village, the kingdom of Thamaria had close to two hundred. These men supported an army of twenty thousand soldiers, each one an outstanding soldier in their own right, chosen and trained from the age of five for the kingdom. Other armies had greater numbers, but in combat, they were heavily outmatched which was why the kingdom had stood for close to a thousand years.
“I found us a tracker.” The Captain looked back at Liam who was taking a sip of his wine and almost choked. The big man came over to inspect him, doubtfully.
“What are you drinking, Lad?”
“Blackfrost wine, Sir.”
The large man held out his hand.
Liam passed him the mug, and he swished some around his mouth. “That's good enough for me. You got a horse?”
“Wait, what? I uh...” Liam didn't know what to say. Was he just selected because of what he was drinking? He supposed the man trusted the Captain's judgment, but still. “Well, I've got to tend the animals while my father's away, and there's a lot to take care of, and—” while he had travelled a lot with his father, he'd never gone out alone that far before. His mind was throwing up every reason why he shouldn't do this, but inside, his heart was pounding. He hadn't made the assessments, and this was an opportunity to prove his worth to the kingdom. Even though he knew he was too old, he still wondered if they'd ever made an exception. His father would kill him though. He still had a lot of chores to take care of, and the house was a mess.
“Are you able?” The large man asked.
“Uh, yes.” That didn't sound confident enough. He was rattled for sure, but he could do it. So, he straightened his shoulders and said it again with a little more certainty. What was he doing?
The large man drew a purse from his belt and tossed it over, and when Liam caught it, it almost dropped right through his fingers. It was heavy. Very heavy. He ripped apart the draw strings and almost fell over. It was full of kingdom gold. It held more gold than he'd ever seen. His father had taken on jobs for the weight of two of those coins, but there must have been fifty in there at least.
Liam wanted to say something. His lips moved, but no sound escaped. By then, the man had already turned and was heading out the door. “Get your affairs in order. We leave in an hour.” With that, he was gone.
Liam drew out one of the coins and stared at it wondering what he would do with so much gold. That would give him enough to buy his own land and set up a home and live comfortably for years to come. He could pay off Tarla's family's debts, and... His legs weakened, and he had to sit. Looking down at the bag in his hand, his thoughts returned to Tarla and the excitement bubbling up inside of him, and he wondered what he could do to hold onto that feeling while he was away.
Tarla was waiting outside the shop, rubbing her arms against the cold. “What happened? I’ve been thinking the worst since you left. Are they gone yet?”
“Come with me. I'll explain on the way.” He took her hand and once again felt like howling at the moon. “Liam, what's happening?”
“I'm leaving town shortly. The soldiers need me to take them to a village.”
“No but—you can't. We only just... You can't go now. When will you get back?”
“It should take three or four days to get there, and then if the weather holds, I’ll get back just as quickly. If not, I'll take the Laniston road and get back as soon as I can.”
“But what about the Passing tonight? You can't miss it.”
He snuck another look at her and knew he didn't need the Passing or the old root to tell him he was a man. He felt it, being here with her as surely as anything he had ever felt before.
“That’ll have to wait until next year. And, oh no, that means I'll still be a child, and we'll have to pick up your baskets and run away from old man Branbill, and I'll have to go on long walks with you, and hold your hand and listen to more of those fascinating stories of yours. I really don't know how I’ll cope.” She smiled, and then her eyes saddened. “But that also means I won't see you for a while.”
“I would stay, but they've offered me a lot—enough to get us a farm and—” he cut off abruptly realizing what he had just said. “I mean, I uh...” She started laughing, and he felt his cheeks heating, but he
r hand tightened just a little more on his.
He reached master Yalof's house and banged on the door. When no one answered, he dragged Tarla around the back of the property into the fenced off garden. Weeds had grown around a gate that hadn't been used in some time, and the garden was littered with junk. An old boat rested upside-down on slabs of mortar. A broken cupboard lay discarded on a scrap pile covered in snow. There were piles of wooden barrels, splitting apart, and clay pots next to the house with nothing but soil inside. “What are we doing here?” Tarla asked. “Isn’t this that artist’s house? I hear he’s—quite mad.”
“He’s eccentric and messy, but he’s also the best artist in the village. Well, the only artist in the village unless you count Madam Anson with her chicken banner.”
“And? Why do you need an artist?”
“I'll show you. Come on. We haven't got much time.” Darla was inspecting the design on the pots and Liam had to hurry her along.
Master Yalof's house backed onto a sheer cliff with a view that was every bit as glorious as that from the vineyards. The artist was out back painting the view, as he had done every day since arriving in the village. A few people had tried to include him, but he seemed to prefer his own company, and when he wasn't painting, he would bring a blanket and a mug of warm ale and stare across the miles of open countryside to the distant mountains, so far and yet so imposing, with a slight smile on his lips as though it was the first time he was seeing it all.
He now had three easels set out next to each other and was working on the second of three paintings.
“It’s quite a view,” Liam said.
“That it is.” Master Yalof didn't look up from his work. “It spoke to me in a dream, twenty years ago, and that's when I set out to find it. Even now it speaks.” His voice became soft, and his eyes drifted far away. “Can you not hear it, Lad? It’s powerful and magnificent.”
Liam had felt the pull of those mountains many times over the years like they too were calling to him but for another reason entirely. For him, they whispered adventure away from the village, and a life worth living.
Tarla walked around to admire the painting.
A few more had been discarded alongside the house. “You mind if I take a look?”
Master Yalof gestured for her to go ahead. All were the same as the one on the easel. Some were of different times of the day, other of different seasons. There were also varying sizes, but all were of the mountains.
“So, what can I do for you?”
Liam had been staring at the paintings and gave himself a small shake.
“Last year I saw a few of your charcoal sketches in the inn, and I was wondering if you’d do one for me. I’ll pay for it of course.”
The man frowned as though he didn't quite understand. His mind was still on his work, and Liam finally pried the paintbrush out of his hand and replaced it with a gold coin. “Please, I want you to sketch Miss Tarla. I'm going away and, well, I need something to remind me of her.”
She was going through the stack of discarded paintings, and her eyes, those deep eyes, snapped up to his in surprise. He would have to commission a real painting of her when he got back; a series of three like the artist was currently working on so that the world could see it and know how he felt about her.
With that much gold Master Yalof couldn’t refuse.
“Is this who you want me to sketch? Bless her, she has my first wife’s eyes.” He knelt in front of Tarla and took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
She looked back uncertainly at Liam who had to turn away so that she wouldn't see his amusement.
Master Yalof assisted her onto a stone bench, with more of those kisses, and then went back inside for his things, and Tarla quickly wiped the back of her hand on her handkerchief.
“You come here now, Master Talbot.” She summoned Liam with a finger, and when he came closer, she trampled on his foot. “What’s that for?”
She took his hands again and her eyes saddened. “At first, it was for bringing me here and for all those kisses, but now I believe it's because you're going away for so long.”
He wanted to lean over and kiss her there and then but didn't want to waste the first time, so he kissed her hand instead, the other hand, and she didn’t wipe it away.
“You better not fall for master Yalof while I'm gone. He seems to have a thing for you.”
She gasped and trampled on his foot again.
The sketch was basic; there wasn't any time for anything else, but it captured her likeness hauntingly well with that bright smile and excitement for life in her eyes. Liam knew he would be looking at it often over the next few days.
Time was running out. He didn't have long before he had to meet the kingdom soldiers, but Tarla insisted that she had something for him, and he owed her after making her endure Master Yalof’s advances.
She took him up to Watchman's hill, and that's where she confessed that she had had a crush on him for the longest time but had all but given up on him ever noticing her.
As they stood looking out across the world, he took her hand, and she pressed her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her head. Her hair smelled like honey, and her perfume like a spring morning. He knew this was moving quickly—they both did, but they didn't have long to enjoy each other's company, and he couldn't leave her for so long without feeling her lips on his.
He got his kiss. It was both tender and slow, as though they had an eternity together, but as it came time to leave, they could feel each other slipping away, and they both tried even harder to hang on.
Leaving her behind on that hill that cold afternoon was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, but for the first time in five years, he had something to come back for.
Chapter 4
The journey took them through the Kullburn valley, where the cold wind whistling off the mountains blew into their cowls biting into their faces.
Liam felt awkward around the other soldiers. He was a lot younger than them and didn't know enough about politics and women and the world outside of the village to join in their conversations, so he stayed out front keeping to himself as much as possible.
He thought a lot about Tarla, wondering what she was doing and wishing he could see her again. The sketch captured her likeness but wasn't much of a companion.
He slipped it out often to see her smile again, but he'd set a fast pace for the soldiers and could only look at it in the evenings or whenever they'd stop alongside a stream to rest the horses. He wanted to reach Gosspree-nor quickly and then get back to the village. He wanted to see her again, but he had another reason to get back as soon as possible.
After spending two days in the saddle, with nothing but his thoughts to haunt him, he wondered if she really felt the same way he felt about her. What if everything that happened: walking hand in hand and kissing near the vineyards overlooking the world, and everything in between was just a bubble of excitement that wouldn’t last? What if she met another, more refined, or well spoken, or charming suitor while he was away? He had to force that feeling down and try to keep his mind on the path ahead, or he knew it’d drive him crazy.
They reached the Oakenfield pass on the afternoon of the second day and decided to set up camp for the night and head into the mountains at first light. Wolves were known to hunt there, but that wasn't the only danger. The path could get narrow for long stretches at a time, and with so much snow, a horse could lose its footing and drag a man over the edge. Liam wouldn't try to navigate it at night.
“We've made good time,” Captain Ardin said, reining in alongside Liam. He too was staring up at those looming snowcapped peaks with misgivings. Low clouds were moving in and would soon cover the mountain completely, but those clouds could bring more snow.
Most of the soldiers came from the Tallisyn barracks and wouldn’t be used to the extreme weather. They had thick cloaks and padded armour, but the steel would draw in the cold. It would only get worse until they broke through into
Whittene'.
“We should reach Gosspree-nor in two days if the weather holds.”
“What’s the hunting like up there?”
“Not good.” His father was one of the best hunters he knew, but even he battled to catch anything on the mountain. “We may be able to snare a rabbit or two, but...” They had another two day's supply of bread and wine, but he was worried that a storm would blow in and they'd be caught up there without anything to eat.
The Captain was looking at him again, as though weighing him up, and he busied himself with unstrapping the quiver from his saddle, so that he didn't have to meet those eyes. “I’ll catch us something to go with that bread tonight. I saw some fresh tracks a little way back.” He spoke too quickly, overcompensating for his sudden movement, and tried again, this time steadying his voice. “We should try to take something with us as well. Just in case.” There were four pack horses, and it would be a good idea to drape some meat across them, but how could he tell the Captain what to do or how to do it? and why was the man looking at him like that?
Captain Ardin finally turned away, and Liam snatched up his bow. How could he make a good impression when he felt so uncomfortable around them? He could hardly speak without fidgeting and had to keep his voice firm so that he wouldn't sound like a child being scolded. He had to get away for a few hours to take control of himself again. These were men, just men, and this journey was too important for him to be stumbling about like a soakwit.
Captain Ardin had dismounted and was issuing orders to his men. “I want you two to clear the snow and get a fire going. The rest of you, get the camp set up, and then grab your bows and go find us as much meat as you can carry. I want at least two day’s supply before you turn in for the night.” The soldiers got to work without saying much to each other. It was too cold for that, and their heads were too tightly wrapped up against the wind blowing in off the mountain.
Only the knight, Sir Remus, didn’t seem to feel it. His helmet hung on his pommel, and his gloves were tucked into his breastplate. He raised his nose into the air and took a deep breath. “Uuuuh, now this, lads, will give a man a reason to get up in the morning. It’s what air should smell like.” He had a booming voice, that Liam could pick out from anywhere in the group, even when he was speaking quietly. “It’s a welcome change after being shut up in that barracks with all of you, you sorry lot, where all I could smell was your musty boots and small clothes. Speaking of clothes, look what I found in the Captain's things.” He drew out a hat made from a cow's udder and put it on, to roars of laughter from the other men.