Defenders of the Sacred Land: Expanded and Re-Issued (The Sacred Land Legacy Book 1)

by Mark E. Tyson

  Seeing Dorenn’s indecision, the shopkeeper smiled. “I have just the thing.” He walked to a shelf and chose a small jade figurine. “Ah, here we go. ‘Tis a figure of an elf maiden, bold and beautiful.”

  Dorenn liked the figure, but it was not exactly what he had in mind for Tatrice. “It is beautiful but I—”

  “Here, hold it,” the old man said as he thrust the figure into Dorenn’s hands.

  Dorenn froze as a peculiar sensation came over him. He turned the figure over in his hands as he felt its power. “What is it?” he asked.

  The old man’s eyes glittered with delight. “It is an ancient thing called a Nolminae Alaenore.” The man paused but no sign of recognition came to Dorenn’s face. The old man frowned. “That is elven for jewel of essence.”

  Realizing that what he held was magic, Dorenn became increasingly uncomfortable. “Thank you, sir, but I can’t take this.”

  “Nonsense, and I will even do you one better.” The old man chose three violet stones from another shelf. “I will give you these three stones. They are rune stones. They will not harm you, but they will aid in your decisions.”

  “What decisions?” Dorenn asked suspiciously.

  The old man wrinkled his forehead. “All decisions worth deciding, boy.”

  Dorenn examined the stones; each one had a different rune etched into it. “What do I owe you, sir?” Dorenn asked. He had decided not to argue with the old man, and he now felt an irresistible urge to cut his losses and leave.

  “Two silver is all I ask,” the old man replied.

  Dorenn thought for a moment. “Surely not, these stones and the figure are far more valuable than two silver.”

  The old man’s face contorted anxiously. “You wish to pay more?”

  “A fair price,” Dorenn said, suddenly realizing he was about to make a mistake. He handed the old man the silver and thanked him. A strange sensation came over him as he took the stones into his hand. Dorenn turned them over in his palm.

  “Is there something the matter?” the old man asked.

  Dorenn regained his senses. “Oh no. It’s just I was wondering how you came to sell these things in a land where they have been outlawed. Are you not afraid of the Enforcers finding out and coming to your shop?”

  “Don’t you worry about me, young master; I have made special arrangements with the Enforcers. Besides, no one has said anything about magic here as far as I can remember.” He winked at Dorenn. “Now go on and meet your lass.”

  As Dorenn exited and walked away from the shop, he thought he could hear the old man laughing. He felt as if a fog had lifted from his senses somehow.

  Dorenn found Tatrice sitting at a table nearest the river. The Euflaire Aquane was not a particularly swift river, at least not while it wound its way through Cedar Falls proper. It did have a few rapids, but they were farther downstream near the falls that gave the village its name. As he neared Tatrice, the river actually gave off a pleasant scent, as if the villagers had filled it with the same flower scented oils they used in the bathhouses. Tatrice smiled excitedly as Dorenn sat down at the table. “Isn’t the river beautiful, Dorenn?”

  “Aye, it is. I had never noticed it before. We never actually stopped here on previous trips to Symbor.”

  “Each time I would travel through Cedar Falls I would look at this river and hope that someday I would get to enjoy a stay beside it.”

  “I am sorry we have to leave so soon then,” Dorenn said.

  Tatrice smiled and took his hand.

  A few moments later, a portly man came out of the inn carrying a tray with bacon, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and fresh fruit on it. “Enjoy!” he said, bowing and backing away.

  Dorenn put his hand into his pant pocket and took hold of the little statuette, but he released it, deciding he would give it to her after breakfast. Tatrice made them both a plate of food from the tray while the innkeeper brought out two goblets of spring wine. Dorenn took a gulp from his goblet and the bubbles tickled his nose. After eating and light conversation, Tatrice finished her goblet of spring wine and started to get up from the table. “No, wait, Tat, I have something I want to give you.” Tatrice sat back down excitedly. Dorenn fumbled for the figurine and pulled it from his pant pocket. “Here, I found this in a small shop on the way. Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it properly, but I hope you like it.”

  “Oh, Dorenn, it is lovely, but I have nothing to give in return.”

  “You have given me this fine breakfast.”

  Tatrice hugged Dorenn and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “We had better get back to the wagon,” he said uncomfortably. He suddenly wished to avoid any awkwardness. “I don’t want to be left here.”

  Tatrice beamed at Dorenn and nodded.

  Dorenn left Tatrice and walked grinning to meet Rennon on the wagon. His friend was looking at him like he had lost his mind when he pulled himself up to the driver’s seat.

  “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Rennon asked Dorenn as he snapped the reins.

  Dorenn eyed his friend in a moment of contemplation. “Actually, I did. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, I just saw you two walking hand in hand when not three days ago Tatrice looked as if she would rather kiss a mule than you.”

  “Well, you know Tat; she can’t hold a grudge more than a few days.”

  “Lucky for you. So, you ironed out the problem then?”

  “Not exactly. I’m still not sure what the problem was, and every time I have tried to bring it up she manages to shut me down.”

  “I suppose she got over it enough to forgive you but not so much as to forget. Either that, or there was no reason other than she was emotional and wanted to be angry at you.”

  Dorenn stifled a yawn. “I suppose either could be true. I’m just glad she is talking to me at all again, and I will not spoil that with foolish questions.” Dorenn was not sure, but he thought he heard a hint of jealously in Rennon’s speech. “Why all of the questions?” Dorenn asked.

  “No reason; I’m just making small talk to pass the time. If you want to talk about something else, feel free.”

  “What has been bothering you? You’ve been in a strange mood ever since we left Brookhaven.”

  “I have many things on my mind. If I’ve been short with you, I apologize.”

  “It isn’t that you have been short with me as much as you just seem different, like you are preoccupied with your thoughts.”

  Rennon sighed. “I guess I have been preoccupied, especially since we started this trip.”

  “Why?” Dorenn asked.

  “This trip feels strange to me.”

  “Strange how?”

  “It’s a feeling I have but can’t explain. I don’t trust Lady Shey, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “What’s wrong with Lady Shey?” Dorenn knew the answer but asked anyway, out of curiosity of what his friend might say.

  Rennon glared at Dorenn apprehensively. “Seriously? For one thing, she’s a dangerous wielder up to no good. We shouldn’t even be traveling with her. If the Enforcers find out, they will arrest us right along with her. How can you trust her?”

  “I never said I trusted her. I can’t see the harm in traveling with her though, wielder or not. Enforcers always come when someone is blatantly disrupting a village or stirring up trouble on a larger scale. I haven’t seen Lady Shey do either’ in fact, I haven’t seen her use much of her magic at all.”

  “Well, I still won’t trust a wielder,” Rennon stated adamantly.

  “In a few days we’ll be back in Brookhaven, and all this will be behind us. Lady Shey will probably leave not long after we get home, if not sooner.”

  “I suppose.” Rennon eyed the reins in his hand. “I guess I can tolerate a wielder long enough for us to get this trip over with.”

  “Good,” Dorenn said.

  Just after midday, the small caravan sighted the port city of Symbor. Dorenn was awestruck at the enormity of
the city; he had been to Symbor before, but the sight never ceased to amaze him. Rows and rows of two story houses were jumbled together on curved cobblestone streets. It was one of the oldest cities in the known world, built from an older interior city once known as Paladine, which had been built upon over time to expand out the city to its present size and renamed Symbor after the capital city lost in the Sacred Land. The waterfront extended on as far as he could see, with sailing and merchant ships all moored together along the wharf, and from this distance he could see the king’s palace. Dorenn noticed that Tatrice had climbed up onto the roof of the red, wooden merchant wagon to get a better view of the city. Lady Shey remained in the wagon, and he surmised she had seen more impressive cities than Symbor and was probably indifferent.

  “Do you have the shipping master’s dock number, Dorenn?” Rennon asked.

  “I believe my father put the dock number in the coin pouch he gave me. We can go directly to the dock and drop off the wagon. Master Draper has stables for the team.”

  “We are leaving the wagon at the dock overnight?” Rennon asked.

  “We will not trade until tomorrow. Don’t worry, Rennon, the wagon will be safe.”

  “Where do we go after we drop them off then?”

  “Father has a line of credit in Symbor at the Dragon’s Eye Inn; we’ll get lodging there.”

  “Good, it’ll probably take that long to shop for the dry goods your father needs anyway,” Tatrice added, moving to a small perch just behind the driver’s seat.

  “Did you just leap down here from the roof of the wagon?” Dorenn asked.

  “Aye, I did. Why, you worried about me?”

  Dorenn shook his head.

  As the small caravan neared the city gates, Dorenn readied his merchant papers for the guards. After showing the papers and a quick inspection of the wagon, the party entered the city gates of Symbor, capital, and largest city of the kingdom of Symboria.

  Since it was about midday, people rushed around the cobblestone streets at a frantic pace, largely ignoring anyone and anything around them. Shops of all kinds lined the main street, and a few shop owners tried to haggle with passersby. It was well into the day as the party finally crossed the city to the docks and located the dock number they needed. It was near dusk by the time they reached the Dragon’s Eye Inn not far from the docks and only a short distance from the eastern gate. Dorenn had no trouble securing rooms at the Inn, and soon they had all sat down in the common room to eat the evening meal. They took up two large dining tables in all, but the common room was less than full, so no one cared. Dorenn could not help to compare the structure to the Tiger’s Head Inn. It was spacious but not quite as luxurious, and it felt less lived in with décor that was much more plain.

  The sound of crashing kitchenware directed their attention to the table of one man who appeared to be intoxicated. He wore fine clothing for someone of his dubious appearance. His maroon tunic with gold embroidery complimented his black trousers and polished boots, and his hair was a bit unkempt. His intoxication was apparent by his constant fumbling while trying to pat the female servant’s backside each time she walked within range. He wore a black goatee, and his black hair had silvered at his temples. Dorenn noticed that Lady Shey eyed the man suspiciously; she and Sylvalora looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and shook their heads in dissatisfaction.

  “Shameful display,” Dorenn heard Lady Shey whisper to Sylvalora.

  “Indeed,” Sylvalora whispered back.

  “Should we invite him over?” Lady Shey inquired.

  “Absolutely,” Sylvalora grinned back.

  Dorenn was appalled; he did not want the drunkard at his table. He squinted and suddenly recognized the man. “Is that Gondrial?”

  Lady Shey nodded to Dorenn before making a motion with her hand to the drunken man. He smiled, grabbed his tankard of ale and stumbled toward their table, sloshing it onto the floor and almost tripping over a chair.

  “What is he doing here?” Dorenn whispered urgently to Lady Shey, but she ignored him.

  The man reached Lady Shey and kissed the top of her hand awkwardly. “My Lady Shey,” he slurred, “so nice to see you again.”

  “I wish I could say the same, Gondrial, but once again you have pickled your brain in ale. It is not very becoming, you know.”

  Gondrial looked hurt at first, but then he perked up. “Is it not? I never would have guessed being drunk could be as damaging to one so virulent as I. Thank you so much, my lady, for pointing it out. I will sober up at once.” He sloshed out more ale. “Well, after five or six more tankards, I promise it’s the straight and narrow.”

  “Oh, be silent, Gondrial, and sit down before you fall down,” Lady Shey said with a half-cocked smile.

  He noticed Dorenn. “Why, Dorenn Adair, my how you have grown.”

  “Hello Gondrial, is there an inn around here you haven’t been drunk in?”

  “Oh, snarky lad. How is the Tiger’s Head Inn? I haven’t been there since—”

  “Since you were thrown out.” Dorenn reminded him. “I waited for you to return. I was just a boy.”

  “I will make it up to you,” he garbled his words.”

  Rodraq pulled up a stray chair and placed it under Gondrial as he was half-sitting and half-falling. Gondrial plopped down on the seat, surprised his backside had found solid backing.

  “How long have you been in Symbor, Gondrial?” Lady Shey asked.

  “I arrived this morning.” He looked around at the persons sitting at the table as if he had only just noticed them. “Who are all of these other people? I thought you were coming with Rodraq and a couple of guards.”

  Lady Shey looked around the table. “These are folks from Brookhaven come to buy a wagonload of ale for the Tiger’s Head Inn. I thought it best to come along incognito with them to avoid any awkward situations. I believe you know most of them. It has just been a while since you have seen them.”

  “Oh yes, Brookhaven folk. Hey, by awkward situations do you mean like running into old Tobani De’Marr? He is out of the city, and he has gone to Darovan. I have already tried to find him for you.”

  “You didn’t!” Lady Shey looked horrified. “Find him, I mean.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Gondrial said. “I just told you he is out of the city. I thought I was the one who was drunk!”

  “Gondrial, if you would have brought him to me I would have boiled your liver and made stew.”

  Gondrial laughed. “Relax dear, no harm done.” He turned and looked at Rodraq. “Rodraq, old buddy, you look as ugly as ever,” he slurred. “I thought marriage would pretty you up some, but I guess I was wrong. Where is the misses anyway?” Gondrial glanced around as if looking for her.

  Rodraq’s expression did not alter. “She is home tending our son.”

  “A son, you, Rodraq?” Gondrial said, patting him on the back. “Why, that is something special indeed. Who would have thought you would know how to do anything but swing a sword? Apparently you can wield a—”

  “GONDRIAL!” Lady Shey interrupted. “We have guests at the table who are not yet of a suitable age for your boorishness.”

  Gondrial looked confused for a moment and blinked. “You are right, where are my manners? I apologize.” Gondrial squinted at Trendan. “Brookhaven, eh? I don’t believe I have ever seen you there. You don’t look Symborian to me, son, you look like an elf.”

  “I am an elf, well, half-elf, sir, I was born in Arillia,” Trendan said.

  “I thought so. I too am half-elven. My mother is from Lux Amarou and my father is from Arillia.” He chuckled. “A high man and an Arillian elf, now you have to see the humor in that relationship.”

  Lady Shey put her hand to her forehead as if she were suddenly developing a headache.

  Trendan chuckled uncomfortably. He felt like he was missing something in Gondrial’s joke. He recovered. “Pleased to meet you, good sir.”

  “You may skip the pleasantries, young half-elf, I have no
need for formalities. My parents are highborn, but I don’t have to be.”

  “That makes no sense,” Lady Shey pointed out, almost in a whisper.

  “As you wish,” Trendan stated eloquently.

  “Have you the wagon as I instructed?” Lady Shey said, changing the subject.

  “As requested, my lady, it was the first task I tended to upon arriving in Symbor this morning. It is in the stable here at the inn.”

  “Good, we are in a bit of a hurry. We had some disturbing news on the road, and I want to take care of business and return as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, what kind of trouble?” Gondrial asked.

  “We have something of a mystery brewing; I will explain it all to you as we journey to the east quarter tomorrow to shop for dry goods and load up the ale. This is neither the place nor the time to discuss it. Do you think you will be sober enough to accompany us by tomorrow morning?”

  “Is a sataflass a tree?” Gondrial stated.

  “No, Gondrial dear, a sataflass is actually a shrubbery,” Lady Shey said.

  “Oh, really?” Gondrial looked perplexed. “Are you certain?”

  “Aye, my drunken friend, quite certain.”

  Gondrial shook his head. “At any rate, I can accompany you just fine.”

  After supper, Dorenn thought it might be a good idea to get good night’s sleep. The next day was sure to be a long one, and he did not get any arguments from the tired party of travelers when he suggested that they should turn in early as well. Rodraq and Trendan walked back to the wagon to make sure it was secure, and they returned with the women’s personal bags. Tatrice, Sylvalora, and Lady Shey shared a room. Lady Shey made it clear that she would be keeping an eye out for mischief. Dorenn said goodnight to Tatrice and joined Rennon in their room. Trendan and Vesperin shared the room next to Dorenn. Rodraq and his men stayed in the room nearest the entrance to the hallway in order to keep an eye out for strangers. Symbor could sometimes be a dangerous place for traveling merchants.

  As Dorenn was getting into bed, he thought he heard the sound of a door opening to the next room. He could have sworn he heard Gondrial’s voice speaking to Vesperin and then footsteps tracking down the hallway. Dorenn wondered what Gondrial had said to Vesperin but not enough to prevent him from slipping into a deep, meditative sleep.