Nora and the Sacred Stones

by Laura Hatch Rupper

  “But there’s no water source in this part of the tunnel,” said Beck.

  “They must have been pushed this high millions of years ago.”

  Nora wrinkled her brow. They were another hour’s walk from Silver Lake. “How would the water move stones that far uphill?”

  “Lots of ways,” Limar said. “Probably an earthquake or flood.”

  “That’s interesting,” Nora said, and Limar stood a bit taller.

  “How long until lunch?” Beck asked.

  “Still two more hours,” Nora rolled her eyes. This is how it had gone the whole way to Toren. Beck and Limar were constantly asking her how long until their next meal. Perhaps she should have rationed more food for the journey, but she had been trying to keep the weight of the knapsacks down. Thirteen-year-old boys, it turned out, survived on food and silly jokes.

  “Soup sounds so good right now,” Beck said.

  “I loved that onion soup Nora made us our first day out,” Limar said.

  “That one was awesome, but the potato soup was my favorite.”

  “Everything Nora cooks is my favorite.”

  Beck nodded. “Her trail meals are better than anything I’ve tasted my entire life.”

  “You should taste her meat pie,” Limar said with a longing sigh.

  Time to change the conversation. The questions that came with the attention to her cooking were impossible to answer. How did you get the bread baked so evenly? How did you get enough heat out of that small stone? Mother was so accepting of life that she didn’t question anything, good or bad. Limar just assumed that other people were able to cook like Nora. But others who tasted her cooking were consistently surprised and impressed. After Teacher Worthing’s warning, though, Nora had become adept at deflecting their attention.

  She sighed. “Sorry, boys. It’ll just be bread today, but maybe we can figure out how to get another pot in Clove.”

  Nora had spent the morning on the tunnel trail thinking about how they could earn coins. She’d been to Clove several times before to sell her family’s ground-stone paper but never to find a job. Nora rubbed her forehead. She was anxious to get home, but in order to pay the tunnel tax and get back to Glynlea, they needed two more silver coins to replace the ones she’d left behind.

  Nora paused at the side of the trail and ran her fingers across a bush. She pulled a couple leaves off and crushed them between her fingers. Lifting them to her nose, she sniffed. Musky. A bit like the morrell bush but with a hint of anise. Tunnel bushes that grew from orb light had distinct differences from those that grew above ground. She had never smelled one like this. It would be delicious in a carrot soup. She grabbed a handful of leaves and carefully wrapped them in a bit of muslin before she trotted to catch up with the boys.

  “I know why you’re so excited to stop in Clove,” Beck said to Limar.

  Nora narrowed her eyes. “Why is that?” she asked.

  “No reason.” The back of Limar’s neck went pink.

  “Are you blushing?” It was so unlike Limar to get embarrassed. He was such a confident young man.

  “Beck,” said Nora tapping him on the shoulder, “why does Limar want to go to Clove?”

  “Don’t say anything,” Limar said quickly.

  What reason could he have for wanting to stop in Clove? And why was he blushing about it?

  “A girl!” gasped Nora, stopping on the trail. “There’s a girl you want to see, isn’t there?”

  Limar flushed a deeper pink. “Don’t tell me I’m too young to like a girl. I’m not.”

  Who did Limar even know in Clove? Their visits there were fast, and they never had time to focus on anything other than selling their paper or buying goods. Nora stared at him. Limar could be super annoying, but he was a hard worker, desperate to be thought of as a man, and underneath the cockiness, he was a really sweet boy. If he liked a girl, she wasn’t going to tease him about it.

  Nora adjusted her knapsack and quietly followed Beck. Their breathing was the only sound for several minutes as they continued on the rocky path.

  Limar finally said, a bit defiantly, “It’s Arley.”

  “Arley? Teacher Worthing’s daughter?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

  That made sense. Visits to Clove always included a stop to see Teacher Worthing. Limar loved to read anything and everything he could get his hands on. Limar must have developed an interest in the blonde-haired girl while begging her father for books.

  Nora sighed. The Worthings were poor, but they were merchant class. Her family were peasant class, and the chance was slim to none that they would ever be able to afford a real education for Limar so he could rise in class. Their paper business sustained them, but not much was left over.

  “Arley is a great choice,” she said.

  “Really?” Limar’s voice squeaked in surprise.

  She turned and gave him a sincere smile so he would know she wasn’t teasing. “I think she’s really sweet.”

  Limar’s huge smile was worth it.

  “Queen’s Ladder,” called Beck, who was a few steps ahead of them.

  The trio came to the head of the cliff and looked down. The passageway dropped sharply, and several quarry lengths of switchbacks turned back and forth, ending deep in the tunnel near Silver Lake.

  Nora paused and called for a stop. “Let’s take a drink before we have to go down the switchbacks. We can fill up at Silver Lake when we get to the bottom.”

  All three of them took their knapsacks off and stretched. Nora opened hers, rearranging the supplies inside to make them a bit more comfortable against her back. Just then, she heard steady hoof beats in the distance behind them. Grabbing Beck’s arm, she motioned back down the tunnel path toward Toren. Three men on pacs were heading their way and in minutes would be upon them. This wasn’t a trade caravan. The travelers most likely weren’t pursuing them, but something inside her sensed danger.

  Hide.

  What was that? Had she heard a voice, or was it just her jumpy nerves? She was feeling the same strange sense of connection she’d felt in the Liard’s kitchen. They needed to get off the path—now. With no time to think, she motioned the boys to be quiet and pointed to where she wanted them to scramble behind the rocks. This time she was careful not to make the same mistake she had in the palace. She checked that none of their belongings were left on the trail and hurried to join the boys in the shadows.

  Crouching behind the rocks, the three of them were within earshot of the trail but hidden. Nora gestured to Limar and Beck to hug their knapsacks and bend their heads in against their knees. She clasped her legs tighter, hoping that the boys would follow her lead and stay down. Other travelers they had encountered had been in large, noisy groups. This group was silent.

  The boys were patient, and Nora noted with relief that they didn’t rustle or fidget. The three riders drew nearer as Nora scrunched down even smaller behind the rock. Better safe than sorry. The sound of the pacs drew closer and echoed off the tunnel walls.

  Suddenly, she heard one of the men say in a deep voice, “I need a moment to relieve myself.”

  “Fine,” said a sharp-toned voice.

  Nora recognized the clipped sound of the Dolmarkian accent. These men were a long way from home. Why would they be traveling to Clove?

  She heard the thud. He must have dismounted. Oh, merciful rocks, please not behind these boulders. Would he leave the trail for privacy or stay where he was?

  She waited a long moment, frozen. The rushing sound of a long stream of urine came from the side of the path away from them.

  “Tarek, get me some of the jerky,” said the sharp voice.

  “Hey Jan, get Prince Oskal some of the jerky. I’m just finishing up over here,” said Tarek.

  “Alright,” said Jan.

  A prince? A pri
nce from House Dolmark? She lifted her head for a look. All of the men were dressed in luxurious clothing. Their cloaks were fur-lined and rich in color. Tarek, the man who had urinated, was huge. He had a bushy, black beard and was walking back toward the path. A smaller man who must be Jan was rummaging through a supply bag. He was shorter than his fellow soldier, but he looked just as strong.

  The third man, the prince, was sitting on a boulder. He had a handsome but sharp face. His hair was dark, and even though he was sitting, Nora could tell he was tall and lean. His feet, clad in intricate leather boots, were sprawled on either side of the stone as he waited for Jan to bring his jerky.

  “Tarek! Bring me some water,” commanded the prince.

  The black-bearded soldier quickly moved to get the water. What would it be like to never fetch anything for yourself?

  “Here you are,” said Tarek, handing him a flask.

  The prince offered no thank you. He just pulled the flask to his mouth and drank deeply. Nora tucked her head back down to her chest.

  “I’ll make some lunch,” said Jan.

  Nora frowned. Could the boys stay quiet if they had to wait through the Dolmarkians’ lunch?

  “No. We’ll wait and eat at the inn,” said Prince Oskal.

  “Great. I’ve heard they have Creen in Clove,” said Tarek.

  “As long as I don’t have to eat more of Jan’s cooking,” scoffed Prince Oskal.

  “You think it’ll take long?” asked Tarek.

  Would what take long? The answer felt important to Nora.

  “No. People will do anything for money,” answered Jan.

  Prince Oskal asked, “Are you talking about House Patter?”

  The soldiers both laughed.

  “It won’t take long,” said the prince. “Lots of miners come into Clove.”

  Nora tugged her cloak closer. Each house mined one sacred stone. The Liard’s mined Ballutite and their mine was just outside Clove. But what did that have to do with anything?

  “Let’s go,” said Prince Oskal. “Death to the Liards!”

  “Death to the Liards!” they echoed.

  She could hear the men remounting their pacs. Her heart hammered as she hugged her legs to her chest.

  Nora and the boys continued to crouch fearfully behind the rocks for several long minutes. After Nora was sure the Dolmarkians wouldn’t be coming back, she poked her head up from behind the boulder and motioned to the boys. “All clear.”

  Limar and Beck raised their heads, looking like nervous rockrats. Hugging their knapsacks, they slowly made their way back to the trail.

  “We’ll eat an early lunch,” she said with fake cheerfulness. “By the time we finish eating, they’ll be far in front of us, and we won’t see them again.”

  Limar and Beck nodded. It was eerie to see the boys so quiet.

  “Do you think we need to warn the royal family?” asked Beck.

  Nora shouldered her uncomfortable knapsack. “I don’t think they would believe three peasants.” Was she justifying not turning back to warn the Liards? She clenched her fist. Why did life have to be made up of such difficult decisions?

  Nora winced as a small stone rolled down the tunnel wall and landed near the path.

  “Nora?” asked Beck. “Do you think Prince Oskal is coming all the way from House Dolmark to try to steal Ballutite from the mine? Isn’t he rich? Couldn’t he just buy infusions?”

  Nora frowned. It didn’t make sense. Were the Dolmarkians trying to pay a miner to steal a Ballutite stone? It had certainly sounded like it.

  “That worries me too,” she said. “Maybe they are planning to attack Liardia. If they attacked, they would need Ballutite for their wounds, and House Liard isn’t going to sell their infusions to an enemy.”

  “Couldn’t they just buy Ballutite infusions from another house that owns a stone?” asked Limar.

  “Maybe,” said Nora. “But it seems to me that it’s always better to own your own stone. It’s a complicated world they live in.”

  “Do you really think they would attack Liardia?” asked Beck.

  Nora frowned. “We’ll go to Teacher Worthing first thing tomorrow when we get into Clove. We can ask him to help us write a letter to the King.”

  The image of Prince Kyn in his sleeping pants flashed through her mind. The prince didn’t seem to take danger seriously enough, but maybe his father would.

  Chapter Six

  Inspection

  Kyn hitched his dress uniform to the right as he waited for his father in the great hall. The hilt of his dagger kept getting caught on the gold sash. Honestly, who thought of these ridiculous uniforms? He hated the uncomfortable fabric, but nothing was going to get in the way of his good mood today. Not sashes, not his father forcing him to polish his boots for an hour, and certainly not a dress uniform that he planned to leave behind at the first opportunity.

  After his briefing with the royal council, the king had immediately sent two teams to track Nora. He had then spent the morning deciding if Kyn would also lead a search. The king finally agreed that Kyn could take another soldier and try to track Nora, but King Arnald obviously didn’t have confidence that his son could find the girl. Instead of haste, the king insisted on an afternoon inspection, an inspection that none of the other soldiers had been required to endure.

  Kyn had been on several missions but never one that he was in charge of. Reaching into his tunic pocket, he briefly touched a folded paper. Kyn had an advantage, and he planned to use it.

  “Present yourself for review,” King Arnald’s voice boomed as he crossed the great hall toward Kyn.

  Kyn snapped to attention, his back straight. He just needed to pass his father’s inspection, and then he’d be free to go.

  The king examined Kyn from top to bottom. Kyn stared straight ahead at the silver-framed painting of his great-grandparents. He needed to keep his face void of all expression. It would be a complete disaster if he were to crack a smile while his father was inspecting him. Kyn needed to demonstrate that he was serious enough to lead.

  His great-grandparents certainly had no problem containing their smiles. They looked like they had sucked on sour berries. He could see out of the corner of his eye that his father’s nose was twitching. King Arnald looked like a hunting dog on the scent of something. Kyn bit the inside of his cheek. Don’t think of the dog. Keep your composure.

  “Your collar is crooked,” King Arnald said.

  Kyn fought back a sigh. There would always be something. He reached up and carefully smoothed his collar but purposefully left the very edge untucked. He would accomplish the mission. He would prove himself to his father, but he would do it his way.

  The king faced Kyn and moved until their noses were a mere hand’s length apart. Kyn stood in perfect inspection stance, hands clasped behind his back, and stared into his father’s intense, gray eyes.

  “Your first mission,” his father stated.

  “Yes, sire.” Kyn stood straighter. “For Aron also.”

  “I’ve told Aron he won’t be needed.”

  Kyn’s heart sank. “I thought being in charge meant choosing my own man,” he said.

  King Arnald grunted. “Not on a first mission. On my first mission, my father sent me with an experienced soldier who had seen many assignments. I’ve done the same for you. I’ve sent word to Sir Ivin. He should be here this evening. You can get a start first thing tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? Kyn swallowed a lump of disappointment and nodded. He had wanted to leave immediately. And what was worse, he wouldn’t have Aron along on his first mission. He should have known his father wouldn’t send him out with a friend. Sir Ivin was a respected soldier, but he was decidedly less fun.

  “Don’t disappoint me,” King Arnald said.

  “I won’t,” Kyn said. He finally felt no desire to laugh
.

  Chapter Seven

  The Mentor’s Advice

  Nora sat at the Worthing’s wobbly dining table, nervously drumming her fingers. A hodgepodge of stone chairs and stools were spaced around the room, and a handmade rug rested in the center. Nora twisted around to admire the bookshelves that covered the walls. If knowledge were wealth, the Worthings would be rich indeed. Teacher Worthing and his daughter, Arley, were in the kitchen, most likely scrambling to find enough food for three more guests.

  After a while, Teacher Worthing limped out from the kitchen carrying a loaf of sliced bread. Arley was right behind him with a large pot of soup.

  “It smells wonderful,” said Nora.

  Arley smiled shyly.

  Limar jumped from his stool to take the pot from Arley, and Nora gave a knowing grin. Maybe it would be good for Limar to like a girl.

  The Worthings dished up the food and sat down to a chorus of appreciative and sincere thank-yous from the tired travelers. It had been an exhausting day and a half in the tunnel, and it felt good to sit.

  Nora sipped her soup and watched her teacher’s unfocused eyes. Was he pondering mysteries millions of tunnels away? Teacher Worthing had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. He always made time to teach Nora and her family during his visits to Glynlea Borough. She knew that traveling was painful for him, but he still came and went in a glorious cloud of knowledge. The copper coins that Nora carefully saved to pay his fees were well spent in her opinion. And in recent years, when Nora started coming to sell paper in Clove, he would always buy some from her even though he didn’t have much money.

  Teacher Worthing pulled a book out of his tunic pocket and began to read as he slurped his soup. Guests didn’t hinder him from reading at the dinner table. Nora watched him and squirmed. Would he be angry when she told him she’d lost one of his precious books?

  “So, my friends, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Teacher Worthing asked, momentarily looking up from his book.

  Beck looked down at the table. Limar smirked at Nora and mouthed, “You’re in trouble.”