by RG Long
Holve gave a grim chuckle.
“I’m afraid getting rid of it will be the more difficult question to answer.”
“Mister Holve?” came a voice from the mouth of the cave. They all turned to see what the problem was.
“What is it, Jurrin?” Holve asked, concern in his voice.
“There are some torches headed this way from down below,” the halfling answered, appearing in the entrance with Olma at his side.
“Time to go,” Holve said, crouching and gathering his pack. “Sorry you don’t have longer to rest, Ealrin. But I’d prefer not to go back to Prommus anytime soon.”
THEY WERE MAKING THEIR way through the darkness in moments. Holve had insisted they throw more scraps on their fire to keep it going for another hour at least. That way they might draw the guards towards their former hiding spot and away from where they were heading.
“Bah,” Gorplin said, still looking for the best route through the mountainous pass. “And where are we heading anyways?”
“North,” Holve replied cryptically.
“Why have you been so secretive about what you’re doing?” Ealrin blurted out. Maybe it was his pounding head that kept him from checking his words. “You and Silverwolf were working on something the entire time we were in Prommus and never clued us in. Don’t you trust us? Why would you hide things from us?”
He heard his frustration coming out in the tone of his voice. Perhaps Holve’s actions had bothered him more than he had realized. Gorplin paused and turned back, looking at Ealrin. He felt his face grow hot, even in the cool summer’s night air. He had spoken from his emotions and now he regretted his words.
Holve, who had been following Gorplin’s lead ahead of Ealrin, turned to face him. It was hard to make his face out in the darkness.
“I wasn’t trying to be secretive from you,” he said. “I was attempting to keep Barton away from what we were working on. Since we were all in such close proximity, I knew talking about it with everyone but him would have been unwise.”
There was a moment of silence between them. Ealrin still felt hot, but marginally less so.
“I need you to trust my decisions,” Holve said, making Ealrin feel even more put aside than he already did. “I don’t decide to do things needlessly.”
“I know that,” Ealrin replied.
Holve had been a mentor of sorts to him ever since they had met in that inn on Ruyn. He had followed him and gone where he had led. Every decision that Ealrin had made had been under the instruction of Holve or with him in mind. Was that beginning to wear on him?
He didn’t know.
Holve sighed and turned around.
“I’ll explain as we walk,” he said.
The going was still rough. Often Gorplin would make them backtrack and take another route when he came upon a spot that he didn’t feel confident about. Ealrin wondered if the dwarf was a little more wary because of the landslide they had encountered. Holve said it was better that they were traveling at night. They would be hardest to spot from Prommus. When the suns rose, they would find a place to rest.
In the meantime, he explained his plan.
“The first war between the Theocracy and the Speakers was terrible,” Holve said. “I got involved because of my connections to Isol. Yada was a gifted Speaker and I had been studying the arts in previous years. I spoke to her about her gift and she told me about her vision of a united Ladis. One of magic and not of fear and hatred. I was taken with it. I thought that they had been treated unfairly by the Theocracy and so I offered them help. I guided their armies and sought to give them the upper hand in the conflict.”
He stopped talking for a bit. They continued along their path of rocky ground and boulders that prevented them from walking in a straight line.
“Then the Dark Comet made an unfortunate appearance,” Holve continued. “The bloodshed must have drawn it there. But that was the first time I had ever seen it cause that terrible chaos. Both sides of the conflict had drawn their forces to Prommus, in order to either defend it from the last great charge or over take it and win the war. The comet threw both sides into disarray. But the Theocracy came out on top and sent Isol back to their island.”
He let out a long breath.
“I managed to not only survive, but was taken away from the conflict by a faithful group of followers. They got me on a boat to Ruyn before I even awoke from my injuries. They fled the conflict and took me, too. As you found out, Yada doesn’t think that the right decision was made that day.”
“Is that why she tried to kill us?” Blume asked with a tone of sarcasm in her voice.
Ealrin shook his head at her.
“But you still haven't explained why we’re heading north,” he said. “Just what’s caused all of the unrest to this point?”
“Ah,” Holve said. “But it matters. The Theocracy survives on the fact that it vilified anyone who uses magic. It says that the Speakers are the reason they have had ill fate. The reality is that they tax their people to near poverty to support their lavish lifestyles at the upper levels of society. But their religion allows them to blame someone else.”
He sighed.
“Religion is not inherently a bad thing, but when evil men twist it to achieve their personal goals, it becomes something more sinister and vile.”
Was belief in the gods of Ladis really at the center of this, Ealrin thought. The idea seemed odd to him.
“The reason we’re heading north is to confront one of the Princes of the Theocracy. There were rumors many years ago that he wasn’t just an appointed prince.”
“Appointed?” Ealrin asked. “You mean these princes aren’t all blood to the king?”
“Only Farnus, according to tradition,” Holve replied, continuing to follow the dwarf as close as he could without stepping on him. “Some are cousins or distant relations. But a few of them have no connection to the king’s family at all. Instead they are men elevated to the position through faithful service. Some are generals of the previous war. That’s the story of the man who rules the northern kingdom. But Silverwolf had been seeking out the last piece of information we needed to confirm what we sought to find out the last time.”
Gorplin pointed out that they would need to drop down a considerable distance in order to make it to the next workable path. It was no higher than Ealrin, but it was still a good distance to fall. They took it in turns, making sure that each one had a place to scramble down and land.
Blume and Olma did it just fine. Jurrin needed some convincing, but made it after Holve offered to let him down and Ealrin helped to catch him. Gorplin was last and made the heaviest thud on the ground. For not being so tall, there was certainly a lot of stout dwarf to him.
“What do you mean ‘according to tradition’?” Blume asked.
Holve nodded at her before they all began to follow Gorplin again.
“The queen died in childbirth,” he said. “But there were rumors that though the king never remarried, he had a mistress. A girl that had been captured from the Isol army that he had fallen in love with. An Isolian mistress who gave him a son.”
Ealrin turned his head and took in what Holve was saying to them.
“So, the king has a son who was an Isolian?” he asked, perplexed.
“And not only that,” Holve answered. “But he ensured the son became a prince, despite never revealing his heritage. And our intelligence has uncovered what we thought might be the case for years now.”
“What’s that?” Blume asked.
Gorplin pointed out another spot where they could rest for the day just as the suns began to peek out over the horizon.
Holve agreed and they all made their way for the place in the cliffs. He let himself turn around to answer Blume’s question.
“That the king’s son,” he said with a grin that was just visible in the dawning light, “is also a Speaker.”
17: The North Road
The roads that ran throughout the Theocracy
were kept up by the taxes taken by the Temple and repaired by the soldiers of the state. Because so many priests and officials were in between the funds and the roads, Holve explained that it was often considered that only a tenth of what was supposed to go to the projects of repairing and constructing the roads actually helped maintain them. The rest often lined the pockets of local governors and magistrates.
Ealrin could see this was the case as they crested the mountain path and saw the long roads stretching out ahead of them. They had traveled some of these in order to make it to Prommus and rescue Holve. Now that they had another destination in mind, they would take roads heading north instead of east.
Since the invasion of Isol had occurred, the roads were much more traveled than in recent history, which made them degrade that much faster. The only advantage this gave Ealrin and company was that walking within sight of the road was just as good as walking on the roads themselves. They didn’t want to be spotted on the wide open spaces that the roads went down. They certainly didn’t want to be caught unawares when a troop of soldiers would come riding or marching along the road either. Mostly they were all heading west and south.
That was where Isol was invading.
“We won’t be on these roads much longer,” Holve said on the third day of their travels after coming down from the mountains. “Mostly these soldiers are heading for Prommus, which is where I’m sure Yada will strike next.”
They continued to walk through the tall grasses and otherwise rocky terrain of northern Ladis. Ealrin had at one time been concerned about how Olma was going to handle the trek. Holve had said at one point that they should drop the girl off at a village with a family willing to take her in as a refugee in the war.
There were two problems with that strategy so far. Every village they had come across to this point had either been abandoned or burned to the ground. It seemed odd to see such an occurrence so far north of the front lines of defense, but Holve said the tactics were similar to what had happened last time.
“They don’t want Isol to be able to use anything they find in the villages,” he said, throwing the remains of a barrel to the side as they scrounged around in the burnt out hull of another small house. This village only had about ten or eleven such structures. But it also had something else that was rather disturbing and didn’t speak to preventing Isol from gaining the resources this village could have offered: several bodies lay burned and mangled in the village square.
Ealrin didn’t look at them long, but he could tell they were of all ages and both genders. It was a sad sight to see.
“Bah,” Gorplin said, inspecting the grisly sight more closely than Ealrin wished. “A barrel or two of food wasn’t worth this.”
“Agreed,” Holve said. “Let’s keep moving.”
“I found something!” Olma shouted from one of the huts. She came out carrying a basket full of dried meats and some other supplies. “Hidden under one of the beds in there.”
Holve looked impressed. Which was the other thing that had kept Olma in their presence. She had proven herself more than useful at scavenging and hunting. And cooking. This was something Jurrin was especially thankful for, as he was terrible at it and knew for certain none of the rest of their company was much better.
“These look wonderful, Miss Olma!” he said appraisingly. “Well done!”
Holve nodded and then called them all to follow him as they left the village. They were marching out of the square when Ealrin stopped in his tracks. They weren’t alone.
“Lovely day,” a voice called out to them. Holve’s hand went to his sword. Ealrin made the same move. An arrow flew right past his head and landed with a thud in the wood of a burnt out building.
“I’d stay a bit more still there, folks,” the voice said again. “You see, McGill ain’t that great of a shot. He may just hit you if you move around too much. I think he was actually aimin’ for the old one, come to think of it.”
Four people began to come out from behind rocks and huts and encircled Ealrin and the others. Each of them had a strong looking bow and arrow pointed at the friends. They all had red hair and beards, save for one of their number who was a woman.
Each of them had a stare that communicated a cold, hard determination to kill if needed.
“Hello friends,” Holve said, raising his hands to show there was nothing in them. He made a small motion with his fingers to indicate that the others should do the same. “What brings you to these ruins? Were these your homes?”
One of them, the tallest and the owner of the voice that had spoken to them first, laughed and grimly pointed his pulled back arrow at Holve.
“I’d have already shot you if this was my village,” he said with a smile. “No one does this to any of the towns in Meris without payin’ for it. Which brings us to the question the four of us would really like answered. What are you doin’ here? And why should we not kill the lot of you off?”
Holve kept his hands up, but looked back at Ealrin and Blume. Both of them had their hands in the air like he did. Ealrin saw Blume twitch her hand, just a little. The one she wore her Rimstone ring on. Holve, almost too small to be noticed by someone not paying very close attention, shook his head.
Apparently this was not the time to be using magic.
Blume responded by grunting slightly. Ealrin noticed a small portion of her hair glow with lightning, but only in very small batches. Hopefully none of their enemies noticed.
“We’re coming out of Prommus,” Holve answered carefully, returning his gaze back to the people with their arrows. “And really don’t care to go back. We were heading north and hoping to see what refuge we could find there.”
“Not much,” said the red-headed woman. “Meris and Juttis are both, shall we say, unwelcoming of outsiders at the moment.”
“More like, we want to keep whatever bloodshed been goin’ on around our country to a minimum,” said the youngest man. His face was narrow and his eyes were hot. “It’s not a good time to be snoopin’ around other people’s villages and homes. Even the burnt out ones. Might make you a robber or a grave digger. And those are just horrible to anyone who believes in the old ways. You might be a criminal...”
“Or the ones who have been killin’ off entire villages,” the first man said, cutting into his companion. “We aren’t really interested in your backstory. We’re out to put an end to this senseless violence. Even if it means a little violence on our part.”
“Bah,” Gorplin grunted. “That’s plain enough to see.”
“What is that?” said the youngest man of the group pointing his bow at him. From his words, it sounded like he had just spotted Gorplin. “Looks like a man who held up a rock too long and finally gave up on wooin’ women.”
“Why you...”
“Peace, Gorplin,” Holve said, stepping in between the dwarf and the man. Gorplin had begun to take some steps toward the younger man who had insulted him. Ealrin knew Gorplin never did well when someone insulted him, another dwarf, the dwarven race in general, or Gorplin in general.
“He’s a dwarf,” Ealrin said, not taking steps anywhere, but wanting to draw attention away from his friend who was still fuming and obviously unhappy with the situation at hand. “Look, can we just talk about what’s going on here? Without you pointing your bows and arrows at us?”
The woman in the group looked sideways at the first man. The younger one raised an eyebrow. The older man who had yet to say anything continued to hold his arrow pointed right at Ealrin’s heart.
There was a brief moment where no one said anything. Ealrin looked back and forth between Holve and the newcomers.
Eyes narrowed and grim expression firmly in place, the man who spoke first said a simple word.
“No.”
A FEW HOURS LATER, the group was on the back of a cart and being taken north. Since that was the direction Holve wanted to go, he didn’t seem all that concerned that they were tied up and, once again, bereft of any weapons of their
own. The only thing that the thieves had yet to get their hands on was Blume’s ring.
That was tucked secretly into her shoe and, under express direction from Holve, was meant to stay there until an emergency.
Ealrin was beginning to believe this was such a time.
Jurrin and Olma were tied up loosely, both being assumed to be children, yet only one of those being a correct assumption. Blume was chewing on her cheek. It seemed to Ealrin that she wanted nothing more than to blast the four captors right out of their boots. He didn't blame her. In fact, Ealrin saw a thin, icy mist coming from her breaths. It had nothing to do with the temperature, he knew. It was her magic escaping from her once again.
Hopefully, it would go unnoticed by their abductors. Otherwise, she might have to use her magic anyways. Through their banter and arguing, Ealrin had discerned that their names were Maccus, Fornos, Tratta, and Mas.
Maccus was the leader, the tallest, and the one who did most of the talking. Fornos was younger but talked nearly as much as Maccus, while Mas hardly said anything at all. He wasn’t taller than Maccus, but he was wider. For a big man, he moved with careful grace. All of them spoke in clipped sentences and with a drawl Ealrin hadn’t heard in the other inhabitants of Ladis. There was something lazy about it, like they were uncaring with their words.
“Gotta pick up the pace, Tratta. Don’t want to be out when the dark starts fallin’.” Maccus said from behind the cart. “The last time we was out in the dark this far south...”
“Ey! Whose fault was it last time?” Fornos said from beside Tratta. “Wasn’t mine. I was thinkin’ I remember who it was, though!”
“Shut yer lids, will ya?” Tratta said. “I don’t like being out as much as either of you. Look who wanted to go so far in one day, huh? Let me drive the horses, won’t ya?”
The sheer amount of words spoken made him begin to believe that.
Tratta, the only female, drove the cart they were riding on. A team of two horses pulled them slowly forward as they went along the road that was heading north. Somehow, this was alright with Holve and working into his plan. Ealrin had a hard time buying it. But, Holve had said he needed to trust him.