“We will manage somehow,” Morganne said brightly. While to some this news would have been disheartening, Morganne felt it was an added ray of hope. Should anyone attempt to trace their flight, at least they would remain securely cradled in Minhaven through the winter.
“You’ll find the people of Minhaven are a suspicious lot, and superstitious too,” the farmer went on. “I suppose that comes of having to stare the dangers of the mountains in the face day by day. No doubt they’ll look upon you strangely at first, and they may even seem unfriendly. They’re only hanging back to make sure you’re not a bad luck charm,” he said, chuckling softly. “If it happens that you turn out to be a good one, you’ll make fast friends. But the best piece of advice I can offer you is do nothing to offend the Kinship. They make and enforce the law in Minhaven. Without the Kinship, Minhaven would be at the mercy of every marauding group looking to draw fast wealth from the points of their swords. Stay on their good side and you’ll have all the help and protection you need.”
“Doesn’t the Sovereign defend these lands?” Morganne asked, suddenly remembering that Greywalle was also under the Kinship’s protection.
“The Sovereign?” the farmer huffed. “He claims these lands well enough, and takes his share of taxes, but expending his resources to defend them is another matter. We’ve had to make our own protection out here. The Sovereign’s interests lie elsewhere, but we each have something the other needs, and so there remains a stiff peace between us. If I were you, I wouldn’t throw too much talk about the Sovereign about. It won’t gain you anything, and might make you any number of enemies.”
“Are the Kinship traitors against the Sovereign, then?”
“No, they’re not traitors. In fact, some of them are lords under the Sovereign’s house.”
“What are they then? We’ve heard their name spoken a number of times, and have met two of their kin who showed us great kindness. But we don’t really know anything about them.”
“I can’t say that I know so much myself—they don’t show in Evensong all that often. From what I understand, the Kinship began in the early days of Minhaven, when great stores of fine ore, including gold, were being brought out of the mountains. The miners found themselves being robbed again and again by different groups who wanted the smelted ore to make weapons and armor for themselves. Calls upon the Sovereign for help brought little result. And so a local lord who had some means and fighting men of his own, a handful of local citizens, and the miners, all came together to form the Kinship as a means of protecting themselves. Over time they grew in size and power, and by now few are fool enough to openly stand against them. They are greatly loved and respected by the citizens of Minhaven, and feared by the wicked. If you’ve already befriended one of their kind, you’re sure to befriend more.”
As the day wore on, the landscape abruptly changed. Elowyn noticed that leafy trees, bearing the dusty brown and yellow leaves of late autumn, were being replaced by fine evergreens. The forest was deep, but sparse. There was so little undergrowth, she could see through the pines with unexpected clarity. Even the air seemed different. It was clearer, sharper—almost lighter in her chest as she breathed it in. The road grew rough. It curved and twisted along the edges of steep hillsides, lifting the cart higher at each bend. The old farmer grew quiet, intently focused on maneuvering the horses along the dangerously uneven road. The earth was no longer made up of soft, rich farming soil, but was hard and full of stones. Immense boulders towered above the forest floor all around them. This part of the world seemed completely untouched by time, as though nothing had changed since the very dawn of creation. Elowyn could envision Aviad setting each boulder in place with the loving hand of an artist laboring over a masterpiece.
By late afternoon the weather began to change as well. A soft grey blanket of clouds washed over them from the north and Elowyn could smell moisture on the wind that carried them. She thought for certain there would be rain before morning. As daylight faded, the farmer steered the horses into a small area off the road that was barely large enough for them and the cart.
“I always stop here,” he said. “Further on, the road grows even more difficult, and there are no safe places to pull a heavy cart off to the side. We can light a fire and stretch our legs a bit, but we’ll not sleep on the ground. The earth is hard, and your bones would chill. You’ll see, the nights get bitter cold up here.”
They enjoyed a roaring fire for a time, with satisfying food, and tales, and even a few songs in the old farmer’s raspy voice. When it came time for sleep, they all bundled together in the back of the cart and drew their new blankets over them for warmth. The old farmer had not misled them as to how frigid the night air would be. When Elowyn woke in the night feeling that she was suffocating under her wrappings, she lifted her face to the fresh air and found that the sheer coldness of it made her lungs gasp and her heart quicken. She felt a soft tickle on her face—a dusting of snow, gently falling from a moonless sky. She ducked her head back within the warmer confines of her blankets and finished the night in a restless sleep.
The dawn was draped in heavy cloud, but the snow had stopped. Before Morganne and Elowyn were awake enough to be fully aware of where they were, they felt the cart moving once again beneath them. The old farmer had already hitched his horses and turned them onto the road. Elowyn was in no hurry to greet the cold when there was naught to do but stare out upon a vast wilderness that felt completely foreign to her. The closer they got to Minhaven, the more apprehensive Elowyn became about what awaited them there. It certainly didn’t sound like any other place she had known. She could hear Morganne’s muffled voice, asking the farmer if there was a monastery in Minhaven.
“There is no formal monastery,” she could hear him reply. “But there is a small community of monks who provide charity and serve as healers for the sick and injured.” Elowyn surmised from his response that there would be no temple in Minhaven either. She pulled the blankets tighter around her. As much as she had wanted to get away from Braeden’s influences, she didn’t much like the thought of having none of the benefits or protections that Tyroc had afforded. If nothing else, this journey had made her realize just how small her life had been thus far, and how big and different the world was from anything she had previously imagined.
Elowyn couldn’t even take comfort in her surroundings. These woodlands seemed so harsh and unforgiving, with the tall, untouchable pines standing as rigid sentries along the edge of the road. They were thick, and very old, with high branches that blocked out the sun’s light instead of tenderly filtering it down to the forest floor. Certainly these trees were not the right kind for tree sailing. Where was the jolly mother with her giggling saplings? Where were the gentle green woodlands, the soft rich soils, the lushness of leaves, the graceful swaying trees?
Eventually Elowyn became horribly hungry and knew that she would have to leave the protection of her wrappings. Reluctantly, she lifted the blanket and looked ahead. In that moment, she forgot all of her sorrows and simply stared, her mouth gaping, and her eyes wide with wonder. The clouds had thinned away toward the north. She saw, for the first time in her life, a line of snow covered mountains. The remaining cloud cover, hovering low to the earth, created the illusion that those massive peaks were floating on the air. To Elowyn, this was a miraculous sight. In silent awe she stared at the rugged peaks for the remainder of the day, learning their shapes and colors, watching how the clouds formed and dissolved around them, and how the light played upon them. It was amazing to her that they could look so close, and yet so distant, all at the same time.
The afternoon eventually waned into twilight. The last of the sun’s rays lit up the mountains like a beacon, while the rest of the woodlands began to diminish into shadow. When even that light began to fade, and they were nearly plunged into total darkness, Elowyn began to see other lights. Warm, yellow, flickering human lights made by lanterns, torches, and the white hot fires of great forges. They had, at la
st, entered the streets of Minhaven.
Spread out before them was a small village that had sprung up like a mushroom in the midst of a vast, hard, mountain wilderness. There were no walls, not even the primitive kind that had surrounded the settlement at Deep Lake. There were no gates or watch towers. None of the streets were cobbled—they were little more than beaten footpaths connecting clusters of buildings together. So far as Elowyn could see, most of the structures were made of stone or roughly cut logs. A very few others were timber frame like those she was more accustomed to seeing in the southern regions. The only ones with open stalls were the blacksmith’s workshops, whose fires constantly churned forth heat and billowing smoke, staining all the buildings around with streaks of gray soot. Minhaven was not an unpleasant looking place, though it lacked the charm of Greywalle and the austere beauty of Evensong. It had a comfortable quality about it, like a well-worn leather shoe that has already been broken in by the elements and conforms perfectly to your foot. Elowyn sensed that they would have little trouble blending in if the people were friendly.
At the farthest end of town, before this last northern foothold gave way to the wilderness once again, they came to a large stone structure that looked as though it had been expanded upon several times over. Morganne and Elowyn recognized by the sign post that it was the local tavern. The farmer brought the cart to a stop, eased his stiff legs over the side and secured the horses before helping the girls out.
“We’ve arrived,” he said. “Is anyone expecting you here? Do you have a place to go for the night?”
Morganne shook her head regretfully.
“I thought as much,” the farmer said. “Well, in we go.”
He swung the heavy doors open onto a large room with a wide-planked wooden floor and a great stone hearth on the far wall. The warmth emanating from it was a welcome relief to Elowyn’s cold face and fingers. There were many tables, all full of men merrily drinking from frothy mugs that were instantly raised to the old farmer in greeting. The tavern keeper came over to give him a hearty welcome.
“Hail, my old friend! I feared you would not make another trip this season.”
The tavern keeper was a tall man with dark brown hair and a thick, wooly beard. His eyes had a youthful twinkle, but his face was heavily lined, as though he had been aged by tribulation rather than time.
“I nearly didn’t,” the old farmer responded. “My health has been poor of late, but I wouldn’t have left you to fare the winter without one more load of apples,” he said, smiling with satisfaction as though he had defeated a great foe. “These are the last of the season.”
“I promise you’ll be well paid for your trouble, but worry no more about your load this night. I’ll see to it that the barrels are unloaded and your horses are stabled and fed. Come, warm yourself by the fire and have a drink with me. Tell me all the news from Evensong and the southern cities—we get precious little of it these days.”
“Aye, that I will. But there is one other thing I must take care of first.” The old farmer nudged Morganne, Elowyn and Adelin forward. “I brought some passengers with me on this trip. They are in need of hospitality for the night and may need a place to stay through the winter months. Have you any room?”
The tavern keeper looked upon the girls with kindness, but it was obvious that this request was worrisome to him. “I’ve the room, but I’m not sure that this is such a fine place for young girls. They might be better off staying with the monks, as I won’t be able to keep a proper eye on them. I’ve barely even time to take regular meals.”
Morganne responded in a firm voice, “We don’t need to be looked after. We’ve journeyed alone a very long way, and we have the means to take care of ourselves.”
The tavern keeper seemed both surprised and amused by Morganne’s forthrightness. “Of that I’ve no doubt,” he said with a smirk. “Only the bold and the foolish would dare to journey here at the onset of winter with two young girls in tow. If you’ve made it this far unscathed, it is highly unlikely that you’re a fool, else you’re just a very lucky one.”
“I suppose time will be my witness either way,” Morganne replied.
“Aye, that it will,” he nodded in agreement. “Do you intend to make Minhaven your home, or are you merely passing through?”
“I have heard that Minhaven is in need of a seamstress. If that is true, we mean to make this our home. Should you decide to let us stay here until spring, we will gladly pay you for our room and also help with the cooking and mending until we find a place of our own.”
The tavern keeper shook his head with uncertainty. “Your offer is fair, but sometimes this place can get mighty rough on dark, cold days. There’s nothing good for you here, just the smell of ale and pipe smoke, and coarse talk not fit for young ears.”
“If that is so, then we shall find a more suitable place all the more quickly. But for now, we only need a warm place to sleep, and we have nowhere else to go.” Morganne could see that he was not convinced, and so she pulled one last bit of hope from her bag. “Perhaps this will ease your mind. We met a friend on our journey, who said that his seal is well regarded in this region, and that it might aid us along our way.” Morganne pulled out Tervaise’s seal and showed it to the tavern keeper, remembering the effect it had once before upon the innkeeper at Greywalle and knowing how the Kinship was regarded in Minhaven.
The moment he saw the seal, the tavern keeper grinned and shrugged in a helpless fashion. “Well, you’ve won me over,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “If you’re friends of the Kinship, you’re most welcome to all that I have. No doubt you’ll be watched after and under their protection.”
His voice returned to normal as he said, “Come with me, and I’ll show you where to sleep.”
He led them down a short hallway, through the kitchen, and down another hallway where he had private living quarters. He opened the door onto a cozy room with a single bed, a chair and a bearskin rug on the floor.
“This was my brother’s. Mine is the next door down if you ever need anything. Though it won’t take long now for the whole town to know you’re under the Kinship’s protection, I will still sleep more soundly with you close by. They’re not a bad lot, but they sometimes lose their wits in their ale, and I can’t say as they are used to having young women about the tavern.”
“Where is your brother now?” Elowyn asked timidly.
“He was a miner. The mountain buried him two winters ago, but I never had the heart to take his room. It is clean and mostly as he left it. You’ve had a long journey in the cold. Are you hungry? I must return to my work, but I could have some food brought to you from the kitchen.”
“We still have food in our bags,” Morganne said. “We will be fine until morning. Thank you for your hospitality, and thank the farmer for us as well. We didn’t get the chance to say good bye, and he was so very kind to us.”
“Aye, I will tell him.”
“And please, if you would,” Morganne continued, “also tell him that he should visit the shrine when he returns to Evensong. There is something there which will do him good.”
The tavern keeper nodded in acknowledgment. “Until morning then,” he said graciously and left.
And so it was that Elowyn, Morganne and Adelin made their escape from Tyroc and arrived safely in Minhaven. Elowyn brought the hearth to life while Morganne prepared the evening meal. To anyone looking on it would have seemed a meager fare, but Morganne and Elowyn relished it as a feast great enough to rival the one they had enjoyed at Tyroc Castle. Though Elowyn’s heart was still uncertain about many things in this strange place that would be their new home, Morganne’s face beamed with a glow that only Aviad could have lit, and the sureness of her faith comforted Elowyn. When they had filled their stomachs, and Adelin had been put to bed, Morganne took out Gareth’s book. She sat with Elowyn by the fire and they read together, tales of the Ancients, of Varol, and of the Prophets, long into the night, until sleep finally c
laimed them.
I am quite certain that Morganne and Elowyn felt their hardships and adventures had come to a close—or so they revealed to me many years later upon honest reflection. Time would teach them differently, as we must all learn such lessons through the unfolding of our lives. But the wise farmer always knows when he should let his fields lie fallow. Beyond sight, the soil gathers its strength until it is time once more to endure the plow, and nourish the seeds that will sprout forth into a bountiful harvest. And so for a time, the Ancients granted Elowyn and Morganne respite from their journey. Weary and spent, they rested securely cradled in the cold mountain village of Minhaven.
***
As I glance out of my office window, I can see that the dawn long ago passed into day and is about to fall again into darkness. My eyes are blurred and my hand is pained from long hours of writing. I too, must allow my body and mind to rest. But soon I shall return to pick up my pen and resume my work, for there is far more to this tale than a single tome can hold.
No journey begun by Aviad’s hand ever truly ends, and the path of Morganne and Elowyn’s lives had only just begun.
###
Afterword
Thank you for reading Journey to Aviad—I hope you enjoyed it! If so, please leave a review wherever you purchased the book or send me a message through my blog. You can also get book 2, Ancient Voices: Into the Depths free. Click the link to find out how, and keep reading for an excerpt.
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