Ancient Magic

by Blink, Bob

  Rigo snuffed out the fire with a casual thought, then stood and walked downhill where he relieved himself. As he stood, his eyes looked westward. The first few days would be the hardest, making his way upwards to cross over the peaks of the Stony Mountains. He wasn’t concerned. He’d been to the top and while he’d never journeyed down the far side, he had seen how the land looked. There was a goodly sized river that flowed through the hills and out onto the flats below. He would follow that.

  Satisfied, he returned to his cooling fire, lay down on the leaves, and threw the thin blanket over him. He briefly wondered how his father was doing before falling asleep.

  Chapter 4

  The journey through the mountains was for the most part uneventful. Rigo encountered nothing that he hadn’t seen there before. Game was abundant this time of year and water was plentiful as well. Everywhere that was except near the very peaks of the mountain, where the snow was still frozen despite the lateness of the season. That situation was easily remedied by a judicious application of his hidden ability.

  As near as he could discern no one was tracking him. His enhanced senses and his keen eyesight could make out no sign of anyone as far back as he could see. There were no campfires in the evening to signal the approach of pursuers. If they had given up this easily, could the matter at home in Daro have been resolved already? Perhaps it was safe for him to return to the village? He was torn between wishing it were so and hoping for the excuse to press onward. He had wanted an excuse to experience the world, and despite the emptiness that accompanied him, he wished for the opportunity to continue. He had long dreamed it would be a journey shared by himself and his father, who would have made a superb guide and would have known exactly where to go. Rigo had known for years, however, that the aging bones of the older man would never allow for such a venture ever again.

  Rigo’s only foreboding was an odd uneasiness deep inside that somehow suggested that he might be headed the wrong way. He couldn’t have told anyone why, but he sensed that he should be headed to the southeast. He’d spent hours at night thinking about the mental map he had of the continent based on schooling and his father’s tales to see if there was anything his subconscious might have recalled that his conscious mind had forgotten that might create such a wish. Heading in the sensed direction would take him into the southern half of Lopal. He could not imagine what it could be. He knew little of that area, and unless his existence before appearing near Daro a decade before had placed him there, he had never been anywhere even close. He might have reconsidered and changed his intended path were it not for the fact he had already made up his mind. He liked to see matters through once he had done so, and with nothing more than an odd feeling, he concluded there was little reason to make such a drastic adjustment to his plan.

  After ten days of travel he encountered the first of several villages on the western slopes of the mountains. The people who lived here were not unlike those from his own village, and they were engaged in similar pursuits. At first his arrival was met with excitement. Travelers usually carried news of the outside world, and they had heard only occasional stories of how the country fared. Unfortunately, he was soon considered an especially dull wanderer, knowing as little, and perhaps less, than they already did of such matters. His village had been, after all, even more remote than this one. At the third such village, well onto the flat lands once again he found an inn, the Twisted Briar, that reminded him of the lone inn back home. It offered rooms and board for a modest price and he decided he would spend some of his coin for a single night. Washing in frigid streams had kept him clean, but he felt the need of a full warm bath and a change into clean clothes. He was certain he could get those he had been wearing washed while he was here. He was getting closer to the coast and knew he would be encountering more people and larger cities. Appearing washed and better dressed would make him look less like a lost wanderer.

  A week later he could actually see the change in the horizon where the Great Western Sea stretched off into the distance, the land having ended. The path was easier now, a well worn dirt roadway that led toward the still distant city of Garth that was his destination. He’d started out early and had settled into a sustainable pace when he heard the sound of hooves and the creak of wheels behind him. Looking back, he saw a large wagon pulled by a team of four large horses coming up from behind. Sitting on the boxy wooden seat casually directing the animals who obviously knew to simply follow the path was a middle aged heavyset man with a thick brown beard. Even through the tangle of beard, Rigo could see the smile that formed on the man lips as he pulled alongside.

  “It’ll be well after dark ‘afore ye get to Garth,” the man informed him in a deep rumbling voice.

  “Is it so obvious that’s where I’m heading?” Rigo replied.

  The man chuckled. It was a pleasant sound. “From your dress you are not local, and there’s nothing else between here and Garth. It seems a reasonable assumption.”

  “Are you a local then?” Rigo asked. “Can you tell me what to expect from here?”

  The man shook his head. “I’m not from around here either. I’m a traveling mender. I sell a few things, fix the metalwork, carry a few indispensable medicines that I offer for a modest price to the residents. Each year I pass through on the loop I make through the outlying villages and towns. I’m actually from Sulen.”

  “The capital?” Rigo asked taken aback. He’d never met anyone who’d been to the capital let alone lived there. Perhaps he could learn something of value from this man.

  “Aye” the man agreed shaking his head up and down. “My name is Sall. What about your own?”

  Rigo replied in turn.

  “Might I offer you a ride?” Sall asked. “It always makes the journey go easier when one has company. I also travel somewhat faster than you will on foot. You could expect to get there before dusk if you ride with me.”

  Rigo didn’t need to be persuaded. He’d been walking for several weeks now, and the thought of riding was almost as enticing as the chance to speak with the man. He voiced his acceptance and climbed up onto the seat alongside the portly gentleman. Once he was situated, the man snapped the reins and the team started moving once again.

  “Been on the road long?” the man asked.

  Rigo told him about his trip across the mountains. He’d already told him he was from Daro before it occurred to him that it might not be wise.

  “Heard of it,” Sall said. “Never been there though. It’s a little too far out of the way to justify the travel. Don’t think I’d make enough in sales for the extra weeks of travel. I’d have to skirt around the mountains rather than clamber over them as you did.”

  Rigo told the man of his desire to see the wider world. He neglected to mention that his expedition had been triggered by the unfortunate killing of which he’d been accused. He told him of his father and the tales he had told of far places and of his adopted mother who had come from beyond the Great Sea.

  “I’ve always had the wanderlust myself,” Sall agreed. “It has kept me single and footloose. There are days I feel I have missed out on something important, but each year after a few months at home I can feel the need to be on the road gnawing at me. Some are made for the life. Others not. How have you found your journey thus far?”

  “Lonely,” Rigo answered honestly.

  “Aye. It’ll often be that way, unless you can find a trustworthy traveling companion. Such are rare. You will need to become a careful judge of character. There are many on the road that are sly and treacherous. One must know how to judge. Otherwise you will end up with your coin missing and more than likely your throat cut. Coming from where you have, thus far you have probably encountered few, and those were not to be feared. You are about to wade into a sea of humanity, and it is filled with sharks and other predators.”

  “Can you tell me about Garth?” Rigo asked eagerly. He knew how he must sound to the experienced Sall, but with the city so close, he was bursting to k
now what to expect.

  For the next hour Sall told him of the city. It was one of three major ports that were spread along the coast of Branid. The smallest and oldest of the three ports, Garth, like the others, was built in a naturally occurring bay that provided shelter from the ocean waves. To the far north the largest natural port had been left to degrade as it was too far from the heartland making it economically infeasible. The city had been built around the port and the Sanbur River which flowed from the mountain they were currently riding down to the mouth of the cove. Goods were transported from the surrounding countryside for shipment to southern Branid as well as across the Great Sea to far away lands. Similarly goods that came from afar were distributed to the surrounding countryside, some being shipped overland to Lopal where they were sold for exorbitant prices.

  “It is a busy place,” Sall explained. “There is much coin to be made, or lost. It is also a dangerous place.” He looked across at Rigo as he said the latter.

  “More so than elsewhere?” Rigo asked. He had thought himself well prepared for the kind of individuals he might meet during his journey. He knew of cutpurses and thugs who could be found along the road. His father had warned him, although he had yet to encounter any such criminals.

  “Aye. There is something about the life aboard ship that makes for hard men. They are exposed to constant dangers and away from others for long periods. Shipboard discipline is strict and the punishments harsh. When the crews come ashore many appear to be looking for trouble. All know they will soon sail away and be out of reach of the local magistrate. Hard liquor, women, and gambling are vices they gravitate towards. Most will cut your throat for a couple of coins. Be wary when you are out and about.”

  Sall pulled back on the reins and brought the wagon to a halt. They were on a hill on the eastern edge of the city. From here Rigo could see the city of Garth spread out below him, the winding and haphazard streets like strands of a spider web forming a matrix that surrounded the harbor. Near the shore he could pick out a half dozen ships, their bare masts extending high above the decks. The ships were large he could tell, but the actual size difficult to judge without something to set the scale. Out on the water he could see a single ship with full sail hurrying toward land, hoping to make port before the sun, which was dipping rapidly toward the ocean, could set.

  “Have you thought about where you will stay?” Sall asked.

  Rigo admitted he hadn’t. Not knowing anything about the city, he had planned on staying at the outer perimeter, then finding a cheap inn the following day.

  “I would suggest that you find a place in the city tonight. It is not wise to sleep in the open even on the edge of town. You might not wake up.”

  “The risk is really that high?” Rigo had never been in a place where one couldn’t safely make camp outside of the village.

  “Truthfully, the risks are greater than you might think. This is especially true in the larger cities. How much did you wish to spend? What does your budget allow?”

  Rigo told him what he had expected to spend, actually upping the amount realizing he was in an area that would be more expensive.

  Sall released a long breath. “You will find that costs are inflated from what you are familiar with. For that kind of coin, you will find only the cheapest of accommodations. That would put you in the rougher area near the port. You cannot find your way clear to spend a bit more?”

  Rigo shook his head. The amount he had quoted Sall was more than he had originally planned and would seriously deplete his funds. He would only be able to fund a couple of nights before he would be out of money.

  “I would suggest you stay with me, but I am staying with a friend and am not in a position to extend his hospitality to another. I can drop you in the area where you will be able to find lodging, but I must warn you once again to take care.”

  Rigo nodded understandingly as Sall urged the team onward and turned down one of the packed dirt streets off the main thoroughfare. They continued toward the ocean, the scent of salt and something else growing stronger as they progressed.

  “Fish, seaweed, kelp, refuse,” Sall said sensing Rigo’s attention to the growing odor. “The ports are always like this. After a while you won’t even notice.”

  Rigo found it difficult to believe that could be so. He had expected the ocean to be fresh and invigorating. Not this appalling and overwhelming assault on the senses.

  “Here it is,” Sall said as he brought the wagon to a halt in front of an older and somewhat run down establishment. The aging sign hanging from a rusty chain over the forbidding entrance sported a faded painting of a ship’s anchor and the lettering with the name Rusty Anchor spelled out in crude letters below the painting. “I’ve heard of this place. It doesn’t appear to be much, but it is run by an honest innkeeper and if there is room is more than likely the best accommodations you will find in your price range. Let’s see what we can learn.”

  Without waiting, Sall climbed down from the hard wooden seat and gestured for Rigo to follow. Together they walked through the dark entrance to the inside. There the inn was marginally better than outside, but Rigo would have probably fled if he’d encountered the place on his own. The innkeeper back in Daro would have been appalled by the general lack of cleanliness. The wooden walls were deeply scarred and one of the inner doors was cracked and ajar on its hinges. It had been propped permanently open as a result.

  None of this appeared to have an impact on Sall, who marched purposefully forward until they arrived at an unpainted counter desk near the center of the structure. A large, balding man with a salt and pepper beard sat behind the counter, muttering as he made marks on a sheet of paper, comparing something on the sheet to the contents of a dog-eared journal open and placed in a handy location. The wide hallway they were in continued another dozen feet before ending at a pair of large swinging doors. Across from the desk was a very large open room with a number of tables and chairs, a large fireplace, and windows with massive shutters now open to show the area outside the back of the inn. From the closeness of the structures as they had passed down the narrow street to get here, Rigo hadn’t realized how near to the water they were. Through the windows he could see several adjacent structures, a wide pathway that ran along the upper area of the beach parallel to the water, and the ocean itself. It couldn’t be more than fifty paces away!

  Inside the common area Rigo could see a number of people at the tables. Some were merely talking, but most were eating. The low murmur of voices mingling into a meaningless mumble was all he could make out. He saw two people moving between the tables, sometimes stopping to speak with the diners.

  “My friend is seeking lodging,” Sall said to the proprietor, dragging Rigo’s attention back to the matter at hand.

  The bearded man held up a hand, continued his perusal of the journal, then finally marked something on the sheet of paper. Carefully he set the paper and the quill down, and looked up at Sall. He stood and walked over to the counter, his eyes switching back and forth between Sall and Rigo. He quoted a price for the room.

  “That includes the evening meal, mind you,” he added. “My own wife does the cooking and guests eat the same food as my family.”

  The price was considerably more than Rigo had said he was willing to spend. Risos! If they wanted that much for a place like this, he would be broke after a night or two.

  Sall was not perturbed. He responded with an offer considerably less than had been quoted. The proprietor grinned. The two men exchanged offers, the proprietor extolling the virtues of the room and Sall noting the shortcomings of the establishment. Finally they came to an agreement, for an amount modestly lower than Rigo had agreed to spend.

  “Okay then,” the proprietor said. “How many nights will you be wanting?”

  “Three to start,” Rigo said. He wasn’t sure how long he would need to be here, but even that would severely tax his purse.

  The bearded innkeeper nodded and reached back and retrieved a
large brass key and handed it to Rigo. “Your room is on the second level; room number six. Payment in advance. The evening meal has already started and is available for another hour yet. My wife can’t be expected to serve you at all hours. Any trouble and you’re out. No return on your payment. Understand?”

  Rigo nodded and counted out the required coins from his now nearly empty purse. He handed them over and received the key in return.

  “Come, let’s retrieve your things,” Sall said with a happy smile.

  Together they headed back out to the wagon out front.

  “The man has a soft heart,” Sall said as they gathered Rigo’s belongings. “He could tell you were strapped for cash and clearly an outsider. He let the room go for less than he normally charges.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “It was obvious in his bargaining. He wasn’t really trying.”

  “Is everything like that here?” Rigo asked. He was used to a little bargaining from home, but usually people had a clear idea what something was worth and the matter was simple. Here it seemed like the price might be what the better negotiator could wring out of the other.

  “Aye. The price is often what the seller believes you can afford. Be wary of everyone who has something to offer. A block down the way you might find the same thing for a quarter of the price. Know what you are getting and take your time to investigate.”

  It was time for them to part. Rigo had his few possessions and Sall was preparing to climb back up to the driver’s seat.

  “Thank you,” Rigo said to the merchant. He felt a certain sadness that they would be parting. In the few hours they had been together the man had helped him understand the area in which he found himself, helped him secure lodging at a fair price, and had acted as a friend. Once again, Rigo would be on his own.