They led him to a modest, stone building near the base of the rocks. Jamar knocked quietly and then led them inside. Heads bowed in respect, they waited for their eyes to adjust to the muted light until a youthful voice called them.
Unsure, Navon kept his eyes lowered as they stepped forward, until Jamar held out his hand. He waited while the two men continued on, and returned after a moment without his weapons. The murmur of voices, one the voice of the youth, and the other a labored rasp, accompanied the sound of Navon’s sword being pulled from its sheath and slowly returned.
Lodorn was called forward, and then Jamar. Even though Navon had learned a number of their words, the hushed conversation prevented him from understanding, but Moshere’s name rang out clearly several times. Jamar’s voice rose in anger and then quieted at a soft rebuke from the youth. Whether he was arguing for or against Navon was impossible to tell.
The conversation came to an end. In the ensuing silence, Navon heard the weak voice of the Madwan call his name. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and raised his eyes. The emaciated body of a man rested on a raised platform, his upper body propped up by a collection of colorful pillows. The young man hovered near his head while Lodorn and Jamar stood at the end of the platform. The distant sound of cascading water filled Navon’s ears.
These details barely registered on the young Deluti’s awareness as the image of a golden chain wrapped tightly around the Maudwan’s neck, digging into flesh, filled his vision. A chain identical to the one around his own neck with an amulet attached, and it was obviously killing the man wearing it. Navon resisted the urge to reach up and check his own. Was it getting tighter? Would this happen if he failed his test?
No. He must not fail. Moonlight’s life depended on it. Dropping his arm and standing a little taller, he shoved his questions aside.
The Maudwan had watched him through narrowed eyes, and when the young man beside him started to speak, he was stopped by a gesture.
“My sons and Elder Jamar see enemy and danger.” He stopped to draw a ragged breath before continuing. “I see lonely young man lost in strange land.”
Navon opened his mouth as if to argue, then let his shoulders slump and looked away.
“Yes, I still see good,” the Maudwan smiled and closed his eyes. “Brod.”
“Father,” the young man answered and addressed Navon. “Na’von de Roddell no slave, but hunt on Shadhuin land and not ask. Must work for Shadhuin thirty days. No trouble, will get weapons and go free. Elder Jamar help and show what work to do.”
Navon’s shoulders drooped even further. Thirty days? How would Moonlight survive that long? There was only one who might help. “Will I see Moshere?”
Brod sighed and shook his head. “Moshere do what Moshere do. He decide.”
Jamar pointed to the door. The meeting was over, and Navon hadn’t had a chance to explain. But then, what would he have said? Even he wasn’t sure how they’d arrived here or why. How much did these people believe in the Deluti? At least he was no longer considered a slave, but what if they had decided he was a demon? Would he have been willing to hurt these people if they had tried to kill him? That question settled to the pit of his soul and would torment him for a long time.
Outside in the bright sun, they had to wait for their eyes to adjust before Jamar led him away. “Come, Na’von. Much work still to empty wagons. Then wash, clean clothes, and eat.”
Navon lost himself to the work at hand, and to the promise of a meal and clean clothes. The heavily laden wagons were already positioned near the openings to the storage areas, which turned out to be large underground caverns. The horses that had pulled the wagons were long gone, and the work of unloading well underway. The blessed coolness of the caverns helped refresh his body, but did nothing to quell the anxiety that tormented his mind.
After the work was complete, the Elder led Navon to his home in a building where he lived alone. There was an extra room that had belonged to his son Navon could use. Opening the shutters, Jamar pointed to a chest at the foot of the bed. “Many clothes. Some maybe fit. Wash, put on clothes, we go eat.”
The clothes were so loose that Navon wasn’t sure if they fit right or not, but they were as comfortable as he had imagined. Already, the heat was less oppressive, and the soft fabric a nice change from the coarse woolens he was used to. Feeling a little conspicuous in the bright colors, he relaxed when Jamar only glanced and offered a rare smile. They walked down a long hall to a communal dining area where the Elder choose a spot at the end of a long table.
Several women moved among the tables bringing plates of food and pouring cups of water. While the stew he’d eaten out on the plains had been filling, this food excited taste buds in ways Navon was unused to. Although Jamar’s expression never changed, Navon could tell by the twinkle in the elder’s eyes, his amusement every time the young man called for another cup of water. Tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow.
While the faces he recognized from the work party no longer glanced at him with fear or hostility, being ignored was almost worse. Maybe it was the strong feeling of being alone that triggered it, but Moshere’s thoughts suddenly flooded his mind. Foremost among them was the desire to see Navon and make sure he was alright.
Jamar recognized the far-off look as his charge stopped with his spoon poised halfway to his mouth. He set down his own spoon and sighed.
“Moshere?”
The startled look and downcast eyes were all the conformation Jamar needed. “Good time show you work for tomorrow. Take care of Brothers. Maybe not so hard.”
They made their way out of the city to an area devoid of fields and designed specifically for the care of horses. Numerous covered areas with water troughs and containers for feed lined the path outside the gate. Navon’s job would be to keep the water and feed troughs filled, and to help the elder in charge if any of the Brothers became ill or were injured.
Moshere arrived at the end of the path, tossing his head. Jamar watched the young man hurry out to where the leader of the Brothers waited patiently, mount and then gallop away. No matter what the Maudwan said, a heavy sense of foreboding filled his heart. There was something going on here he couldn’t fathom, but nothing good could come of it.
Navon tried to answer Moshere’s concern over what the Madwan had decided. He inadvertently let slip his recognition of the power that fed the oasis, and the possible link to the hidden amulet worn by the Maudwan. Moshere never altered his stride or gave any indication the observation bothered him, only that he felt the decision was as fair as it could be.
Navon could almost feel the smile in Moshere’s thoughts as he teased the young man with the idea of a special surprise in store for him. They crossed over a ridge and down into one of the small valleys out of sight of the city. There, a large, four legged animal peered cautiously out from behind a bush. Navon fell off Moshere’s back before they came to a full stop, and ended up on his hands and knees. Moonlight pounced playfully, rolling him over on his back where she covered his face with licks and nipped at his nose.
Laughing and crying in equal amounts, Navon grabbed at her fur in an attempt to pull her down, but she had grown. Their shared thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of love and happiness as each tried to make sure the other was alright. She finally lay down beside him, muzzle on his chest as they stared into each other’s eyes. No matter what else was wrong in the world, for now, Navon was at peace.
Moshere watched the display of youthful joy and innocence, shook his head, and trotted back to the crest of the ridge to keep guard. He was much older than anyone knew, and was quite aware of the amulet the Maudwan wore and the power it contained. His family had been recruited to help hide and protect the amulet when it had first been entrusted to the nomads.
Early on, when they still roamed the plains and lived in tents, it was decided a small wooden box could too easily be lost. The tradition evolved where the youngest son of their leader would wear the chain around his neck. Unfo
rtunately, since they had no Deluti blood, the chain wouldn’t grow as the young man grew, eventually choking him to death. At that point, the chain would fall loose and then be placed around the neck of the next youngest son. And so the cycle continued.
As with many of the Elder Races, Moshere was able to see past the illusion that hid the amulet Navon wore, and he could sense the power of a Deluti which surrounded him. He also knew if the Amulets were once again appearing in the world, it meant that war would soon be upon them again.
As much as he loved his Shadhuin brothers, he knew with their prejudices and distrust of anything different, it would be difficult to protect the young Deluti and his companion. Moshere understood that if something were to go horribly wrong, Navon had the power to destroy the city and all within. The uncomfortable feeling that he was making a mistake ate away at the confidence he’d held for so many years.
***
Emma stood before the Prince and challenged him, hands on her hips. “Yes, an Elintrian Light-Shifter, and don’t be a fool. That you can see me and are still alive means you have nothing to fear. However, you have everything to fear while living in the Palace.”
Sebastian laid his hand on Emma’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “All is well, little one. We can trust Mathias.”
Shaking off his hand, she went back to stare out of the window. A position she’d been in since the ogre left, drawn to the evil coming from the direction of the Palace.
Sebastian let his arm drop as he followed her movement. Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bed and faced the Prince. “Forgive me, Mathias. I am still learning the ways of humans and should have warned you. It seems I also made a mistake by not letting Em know I was bringing someone.”
The Prince leaned forward, reached up to hook his shoulder length hair behind an ear, no longer fearful. “No forgiveness needed, Sebastian. Your friend is right. I was being foolish to think you would lead me into danger. With all the changes and uneasiness I feel in the Palace, I’m afraid I’m more on edge than I thought.”
Emma turned away from the window and moved to stand in front of the young man, patting the ogre on the knee as she walked past. Searching the Prince’s face, she stuck out her small hand. “Well met, Mathias. I am Emma. The fact that the evil in the Palace bothers you convinces me more than words of your honesty. Please tell me more of those changes you spoke of.”
Mathias held her hand in his, unseeing as his sight turned inward. “Evil… yes, now that you’ve named it, that is exactly how it feels. Ever since the new guards started arriving, the feeling has grown. Unfortunately, my father doesn’t feel it the way I do.”
Sebastian asked from his place on the bed. “The men who stopped us were new?”
“Yes. One of the Dukes felt it would benefit the Kingdom if guards were rotated between the different Keeps and the Palace. Not only the guards in the city, but most of the servants also. Some of the new men are more like brigands than guards.”
They were interrupted by the sound of someone kicking the door as Emma quickly disappeared. Sebastian opened the door revealing a struggling Poppie, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. A loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, and slices of meat covered a large platter with a tall bottle of wine and a stack of glasses balanced precariously on the edge. The ogre rescued the bottle and glasses as the boy entered and placed the platter on their small table.
“Poppie do good, yes?” he announced proudly, smiling up at the ogre.
Sebastian, however, was not smiling and towered over the cowering boy. “Why are there three glasses, Poppie?”
“Ahh… Poppie go now,” he exclaimed and made a dash for the door. The door slammed shut as Emma appeared in front of it, knives drawn. Sliding to a stop, his arms dropped to his sides as his features began to shimmer. Emma’s eyes grew in surprise and then narrowed. The changes were subtle, but a young man now stood before her.
With a flourish, her knives disappeared as she stood there, hands on hips and frowning. “Cousin Roll. What are you doing here, and does your mother know?”
“No one except the Ancient One knew I was here, until now,” he retorted. “And don’t you dare tell mother. Did you think you were the only one tired of living in trees? I’m not as good at light shifting as you are, but the old man taught me how to make small changes to my appearance. I’ve always been a good actor, and no one pays attention to me when they talk to others. How do you think the High Lord found out one of the Dukes is up to something?”
Mathias relieved Sebastian of the wine and proceeded to fill the three glasses. The ogre declined, sitting back heavily on his bed, mumbling to himself. The cousins gratefully accepted. The Prince studied his wine before taking a sip, and turned to face them. “I used to believe employing spies was less than honorable, but I’m beginning to rethink my ideas. It’s obvious we need information that isn’t available any other way.”
Sitting next to Emma on the bed, Roll asked for a refill. “I understand, Prince Mathias. There are those who would use spies to harm others, but sometimes it’s the only way to get the information you need to protect those close to you.”
Uncomfortable being the only one standing, Mathias pulled his chair over to the table and took advantage of the food. Tearing off a chunk of bread, he pointed it at Roll. “What can you tell us, and why do you suspect one of the Dukes?”
“Prince Mathias, I don’t know where these new men are coming from, but most of them have never been guards before. They complain constantly about having to play a part they despise. I must also assume they mean Duke d’Lorange when they refer to the one who is paying them as the ‘local duke’. Whatever they are planning, it centers around the arrival of the Barons. I’ve overheard a number of them talking about taking their revenge at that time.”
The Prince jumped up and began pacing the floor. “By the Eyes! If all the guards are loyal to him, it would be easy to threaten all the royal families and force them to name him King. But Marcus is the King’s oldest and dearest friend and counselor. Even with proof, my father will never believe me. This is much worse than I imagined.”
Sebastian roused himself and asked, “Mathias, how long will it take for all the Barons to get here, and when do you expect the Princess to arrive from Dahlian?”
The young prince paused to think. “Some of the Barons have a long way to travel, and will probably take almost a week to get here. As far as I know, Princess Sofia should arrive within the next several days, depending on the weather in the Straits. Why?”
Emma jumped down and studied the Prince. “Because, human, we need time to gather information and allies. I’ll pinpoint the source of evil and follow the Duke’s movements.”
Roll joined her. “And I’ll go down to the docks to get a feel for which way the wind blows.”
At the door, Emma turned back to Mathias. “Every keep I’ve been in has a secret escape built in. I can’t imagine the Palace wouldn’t have one also. If you don’t already know its location, I would find it and make sure it’s still usable. We’ll return here tonight to discuss what we’ve found.”
After the door closed, the Prince turned to Sebastian, a grin on his face. “Is she always like that?”
“Always,” the ogre laughed. “I’m surprised she didn’t give me orders also.”
His grin fading, the young prince downed the last of his wine and headed for the door also. “As much as I hate to admit this, it’s probably because she knows you are not safe outside of this inn. I’m sorry, Sebastian.”
The ogre took Emma’s spot in front of the window and tried to grasp the enormity of what he saw. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave the inn. He had no intention of sharing with the others, especially Em, just how intimidated he was being around so many humans. If they ever turned against the Elder Races, there would be no stopping them.
Chapter Fifteen ~ Brothers
The sand covered north road out of Seaside was vastly different than the roads they had traveled so far.
The shifting sand dunes threatened to swallow up the road in several places forcing Ronald to slow as the horses struggled to pull the wagon through the loose sand. Eerily quiet, the pounding hoof beats and the rattling of the wagon could barely be heard over the distant roar of waves crashing against the shore.
Sofia estimated they had traveled at least a mile already, and began to wonder if the innkeeper was as honest as he seemed. Who would be fool enough to build a pier along this stretch of coast? After cresting another tall dune, a wide channel appeared before them which caused the road to angle sharply inland.
It followed the channel and became more solid the farther they traveled. Soon, several buildings came into view with a short pier that jutted out into the channel. As they got closer, the Princess could see only one building still sported a roof while the others had fallen in upon themselves. The skeleton of a ship thrust blackened fingers skyward amongst a jumble of scaffolding and supports at the water’s edge.
She was no expert on ships, but the one that rocked gently alongside the lone pier didn’t inspire any confidence in how long it would still float, much less sail. Ronald jumped down from the wagon and headed for the ship as Sofia rode up and stopped alongside Floanne who sat with slumped shoulders in an attitude of defeat.
She raised somber eyes to her former mistress. “Has the innkeeper betrayed us?”
“I don’t know, but we won’t learn anything sitting here. Come, we might as well hear what the captain has to say for himself.”
Regardless of Cedric’s reassurances, Ronald knew a smuggler when he saw one. They weren’t much better than pirates, and were notoriously secretive, especially with strangers. It wouldn’t surprise him to be confronted by loaded crossbows as he approached the ship, and hoped the women would have a chance to escape if things got ugly.
As he stepped onto the pier, details of the ship’s condition emerged even to his untrained eye. What appeared from a distance as a derelict ready to sink at any time, proved to be quite the opposite. Not a speck of rust or corrosion was evident on any of the metal. Rather than being polished to a shine as on other ships, these fittings were carefully greased or oiled.
The Pain of Compassion Page 15