Much of the town was devastated, either smashed to bits or burned to the ground. Precious few buildings were left standing. Nearly all the watch had gotten onto boats themselves once the rest of the townsfolk had been set safely adrift, but a few lay dead near the gate where the heaviest part of the battle had taken place. They were bitterly mourned by their families, and hailed as great heroes by all. No doubt tales of their sacrifice would be told for generations in that place. Lying next to them were the remains of two trolls that had also been brought down. Upon that sight many proud cheers and calls rose from the bedraggled crowd. A few even dared to kick the carcasses, or hurl stones and insults at them.
The shoemaker’s home was only partially destroyed. The roof had been smashed in, and the walls that had made up his personal chambers had collapsed. The workshop was still mostly intact—somehow it had escaped the fire. Once the general damage was surveyed, there was no question that most of the town’s population would need to be relocated, at least for the time being. The town was defenseless against further onslaught, and with so many of the buildings gone or damaged beyond repair, there was inadequate shelter, food, or supplies to sustain them all. Several carts and horses were brought to the center of town, and the very young, the very old, and the infirm were loaded into them. The rest would have to walk alongside them for however many days it would take to reach Port’s Keep. The old shoemaker refused to go, saying that he still had something left to salvage, and he was too old to begin anew elsewhere. He would rather risk perishing at the hand of a troll than risk finding himself a beggar and die just the same. And so they parted ways. But Morganne and Elowyn held onto the hope that the old man rebuilt his workshop, and that his remaining days were long and peaceful, and free of trolls.
The caravan was slow and cumbersome, and strangely silent. The only voices to be heard were those of the younger children playing together in the carts. There was no singing, or storytelling, or idle conversation to pass the time as one might expect on a journey of that sort. All wore a haggard look—eyes red-rimmed, and expressions numb. Elowyn thought these people looked very much like animals stunned by a predator’s venom, stumbling about in shock and confusion, slowly and unwittingly marching on towards their inevitable demise. Elowyn realized that she probably wore the same expression, exhausted from lack of sleep, and unable to forget the image of the troll and the watchman being eaten alive. That moment in time kept replaying itself over and over in her mind, until the images became so surreal and strange that she wondered if they had really happened at all. She could almost convince herself that it had been a nightmare, except there she still was, marching along with a group of complete strangers, on a road she had never traversed before. If it was only a nightmare, she was still in it, praying desperately to be wakened.
When after a long day of walking the group finally camped for the night, Elowyn lit her own fire a short distance away. She was weary of the crowd and of feeling the weighty burden of everyone’s sorrows crushing down upon her soul. But she found that Morganne’s company was equally mournful. The fire had been fed and stoked many times before she would say anything at all, and even then she spoke with a broken voice.
“I never knew such things existed before today. Even had I known … I don’t think that I would have really understood without seeing. And as horrific as the trolls were, from what Gareth told us, the Hounds are far, far worse. I know in my mind that his word is true, but I fear that without seeing, I do not truly understand their danger either, and that frightens me even more than what I have just witnessed.”
Morganne grew quiet again for a few moments, and then with great brokenness said, “I am sorry. I should never have brought us. Nothing our mother could do would ever come close to the terror I saw unleashed by a single troll, let alone a Hound. It was wrong of me to think that I could make this journey, that you and Adelin were safer away from Tyroc. What I do not understand is why you came. You have seen a Hound—you were nearly slain by one. You knew the danger in a way that I could not, and yet you came.”
Elowyn gathered her thoughts carefully for a few moments, answering truthfully, “Tyroc was not so safe as you imagined it to be. Our cottage was no stronghold, and our mother no sure protector from danger. It is around Tyroc that the Hounds gather their strength. When they have overrun the woodlands, and Braeden has darkened the skies, who there would be strong enough to protect us?”
Morganne mused on this response for a long while before she finally let go some of her anguish and said in a very different tone, “Gareth once told me a story about a bird that was captured and put in a cage. From his perch he could see through an open window and into the glorious free world beyond. The bird caught glimpses of blue sky for soaring, and inviting leafy green branches for resting, and he could hear the happy sounds of other birds singing songs to each other all day long. More than anything, he desired to be free of the cage so that he could join those birds on the other side of the open window. Yet every day the cage remained locked.
“One day the cage door was left open, and the bird realized this was his chance to escape. But as he prepared to fly away, he saw that the cat was watching the open cage too, crouched and ready to pounce. I asked Gareth what happened after that, and he said that he couldn’t tell me—it was up to me to finish the story. I remember protesting greatly at the time. It was unfair, I thought, to be told a story that seemingly had no end. He explained that the point was not the story itself. How each listener finished the tale was supposed to give him a glimpse into his own spiritual state.
“He told me that the cage symbolizes our own fears and limitations, the cottage the world around us, and the cat the dangers within that world, which threaten both our physical and spiritual lives. The window is the gateway through which we leave this world to enter the next, and the world beyond the window symbolizes the perfected spirit and the realm of Aviad. Would the bird in my version of the story remain in her cage, safe and well fed, but a slave to her own fears and tormented by longing for the rest of her days? Or would she make an attempt at flight and risk the danger for the sake of something more, whatever the outcome? What would that outcome be? Would she be injured, or devoured, or would she fly free without hindrance?
“He told me the tale also reminds young members of his Order that true spiritual freedom involves courage, strength of character, and even sometimes sacrifice. That little story of Gareth’s has always stayed with me, but until now, I do not think I took it seriously enough. Never have I felt more like that little bird in the cage. Only I took the plunge from the cage, and now I’m flying wildly about the room, nearly blind in my panic, with the cat close behind. Gareth said that I must finish the story. It sounds like such a simple thing, does it not? I feel instead as though the story is telling itself, and I have no control over how it will end.”
Elowyn wanted to say something comforting, but was at a loss. She understood how Morganne felt. Despite their restless, anxious thoughts, and the discomfort of the hard earth they were camped upon, exhaustion eventually overcame them. They fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, knowing nothing until the early light of morning stirred the camp, and their caravan was on the move once more. In some ways this unexpected turn of events had been a great blessing. For one thing, Morganne had been relieved of the burden of carrying Adelin, who was enjoying some freedom of movement and the company of other children her age. For another, they felt more secure than they had before. They blended in nicely with this group of refugees, who were still in such a state of shock that they had no thought of asking any personal questions regarding who the girls were, and where they had come from. They also felt safer—perhaps not from trolls or Hounds, but certainly from the ordinary hazards of wild animals and robbers on the road. But the constant presence of the crowd, and the weight of their sorrows, pressed upon Elowyn’s spirit until she could hardly bear it. She longed to be rid of the caravan and looked forward to the day when they would leave it behind.
<
br /> Living Fire
Evening was quickly descending upon the fifth day of the caravan’s journey from Deep Lake. Elowyn began to wonder why they hadn’t already stopped to make camp, when she saw an immense torch-lit stone wall and gate looming ahead in the blue twilight. They had finally reached Port’s Keep.
A guard called down from high above, asking their business, and a voice from their group responded. “We’ve come from Deep Lake. Our settlement was attacked and nearly destroyed by trolls. We send you our women and children, our elderly and our infirm, to seek shelter in your fair city, and ask for the protection of your lord.”
They were immediately ushered in through the main gate then guided to a large grassy area between the outer and inner wall. There they were told to make camp for the night while the lord of the city was notified of their situation, and until better accommodations could be made.
Morganne grabbed Adelin out of the cart and whispered fiercely in Elowyn’s ear, “Keep going into the city—don’t follow them.” Elowyn gave her a confused look.
“These are not ordinary travelers simply passing through; they are seeking long-term refuge. No doubt a census will be taken for the lord to give an account of who is here. I don’t want to have our names recorded, or have to answer questions about where we came from.”
So they walked boldly up to the inner gate that led into the city. Two guards barred their way.
Morganne straightened herself and spoke firmly to the guard, looking, for a brief moment, very much like her mother. “We are not from the settlement. We have the means and would like to seek our own lodging in the city.”
“Looked like you came with them to me,” the guard said brusquely.
“We had only stopped at Deep Lake to replenish our supplies and were caught up in their misfortune. We traveled with them for safety, but would have passed through your city either way. We do not intend to stay for long.”
The guard replied in a patronizing manner, “Even so, you’ll stay with them until daylight. The city streets are no place for young girls at night, and the lord’s servants will take care of everything tomorrow.” He looked away as though the matter was closed. The girls felt as if they had just been scolded and sent to bed without supper. But Morganne was not going to give up so easily, and she could sense that the crowd was listening to the exchange carefully.
“Meaning no disrespect, we are well aware of the hazards of the city. The hazards of the road have been far greater. We will risk a walk through your streets if we may find among them an inn where we can rest for the night.”
The movement of the crowd had stopped and all eyes were on the guard, who looked as though he wasn’t sure what to do. No doubt he was under orders to keep this displaced group from Deep Lake contained for the night, and yet he had not been told what to do in such a situation as this. If the group grew restless and frightened, he would be to blame. And if he let these girls go, and the rest of the group decided to follow, he would also be to blame.
Morganne saw the guard teetering on the edge of decision and decided to give him one last shove. “It was my understanding that Port’s Keep was a city that welcomed travelers, and that its lord was under the Sovereign of Tyroc’s authority. Are we to be treated as prisoners, or as guests and free citizens of the Sovereign?”
Every breath was stilled, waiting anxiously for the guard’s answer.
“You are all guests, of course,” the guard said gruffly as he stepped aside, visibly unnerved by the fact that his authority had been successfully challenged. “But I still advise those from Deep Lake to remain here for their own benefit. There are not enough inns to house all of you. I give my word that those who stay will receive good help, and will be treated as any other citizen of Port’s Keep … or of the Sovereign’s realm for that matter,” he said, giving Morganne a hard look. Morganne did not care. She was relieved to pass through the city gates and be on her way. A few other travelers who had also been caught up in the troll attack followed them. But most chose to set up camp in the green space between the city walls, grateful for the security they afforded. Morganne and Elowyn found a moderately priced inn where they were finally able to cast off their packs and sleep comfortably through the night.
By the light of morning the girls ventured out into the city of Port’s Keep. As large as it was, the city could not compare with Tyroc in terms of size and wealth. The largest of its buildings were not nearly so grand, and there was no temple. Most buildings were small to modest shops and homes. The central square was little more than an open area of packed earth surrounded by a jumble of hastily constructed buildings, most of which had open stalls on the first floor with living quarters on the second. Rising above the entire city, set atop a cliff overlooking the sea, was a rough stone keep. It had one main rectangular tower, and smaller towers branching off of it that appeared to have been added on through the years. The keep looked very old—the archaic remnant of an age long passed. Elowyn sensed that its walls must echo with generations of voices, holding fast to the keep’s darkest secrets. Elowyn could hardly take her eyes from it. She was wary of turning her back on the keep’s imposing form as though it were an untamed and dangerous creature that could not be trusted. She was glad that she did not live in the shadow of its presence year upon year.
The innkeeper had told the girls that a courier could be found on the edge of the city near the coast, and that they would know the right place by the signboard hanging outside the door. As they walked briskly along the city streets, Elowyn breathed deeply, realizing suddenly how much she had missed the pungent, briny smell of the sea. Flocks of gulls called out to each other as they circled the blue expanse of sky overhead and lighted on everything like heaps of snow. The docks and the coastline were the most familiar sights they had seen on their journey thus far. Ships of all sizes were lined up, moving slowly in and out of the harbor. Groups of people were embarking, and disembarking, and cargo was being hoisted to and fro both in nets and by hand, or passed along from person to person over wooden ramps.
The mix of people was quite diverse. Poor sailors and deckhands rubbed shoulders with great lords and ladies, who had commissioned ships to carry them back and forth between exotic places and the mainland. There were merchants inspecting shipments, scholars seeking passage on cargo ships, artisans and farmers hauling their wares to be sent down the coast to Tyroc and other cities, and women and children lined up to greet those who were coming off the sea after working long, hard voyages. Morganne tried to avoid the crowds as much as possible, and kept looking down to hide her face. She had recognized a couple of the merchants, though she was sure they hadn’t seen her. The girls were reminded though, that while they might be safe from trolls in Port’s Keep, there were other dangers to be wary of. Morganne had worked closely with well-known cloth merchants and other wealthy customers of her mother’s from all over the mainland, and it was quite possible any one of them might recognize her on sight.
At the entrance to a narrow alley, the girls finally happened upon a shabby little building with a courier’s sign hanging above the door. When they walked in, they found the front room was empty except for a table against the far wall. Behind it sat a stocky, scruffy looking man with a curly beard that nearly covered his whole face. He was busy writing in a huge ledger that nearly covered the table.
“Yes?” the man asked, without looking up.
“We’re looking for a courier,” Morganne said.
“Aye. Destination?”
“Well, we’re not quite sure …”
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation as he continued to write.
“We need to get a package to a specific courier. We know that he is often in Tyroc, but we’re not sure where he is now. We were hoping that if this is delivered to the courier’s office in Tyroc, they would know where to find him.”
“Most of the couriers from Tyroc pass through here eventually, some more often than others. Whom do you seek?”
> “One called Raife,” Elowyn said, placing the packet of letters gingerly on the table.
As the man caught a glimpse of the packet and the wax seal that held it together, he finally looked up with a startled expression.
“Where did you get this?”
Morganne gave Elowyn a sideward glance, not wanting to say the wrong thing. This was Elowyn’s quest to fulfill, not hers. Elowyn spoke softly, “It was given to me by a friend, who asked me to find the courier whose name is written on it.”
The man called over his apprentice, who had appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room. “If Raife is still here, bid him come to me immediately. Then bar the back door and go home. You will no longer be needed this day.”
The boy did as he was told, and a few moments later, a young man rushed in, still fastening on pieces of leather armor while he walked. In stark contrast to the man at the table, he was tall and slim, and well groomed with finely trimmed hair and beard. A satchel was slung over his shoulder, and a cloak was folded over one arm.
“You’ve got one more, have you? If it is along the western road, I’ve had to change my route based on the news we got this morning.”
“You may be changing your entire route today,” the man with the beard said in a carefully guarded tone.
Raife finally looked up, catching a glimpse of the package on the table. He stopped what he was doing and stood motionless for a moment, staring at it with disbelief. He first locked eyes with the man at the table, then swung around to face Morganne and Elowyn. He quickly surveyed them, and asked abruptly, “How did you come upon this package?”
Journey to Aviad Page 23