Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1)

by Norma Hinkens

  “That is most generous of you. I will keep that in mind,” Erdhan responded drily, before hurrying back to his cart. The woman’s admiring glance swept unabashedly over Erdhan’s retreating form, and Orlla groaned inwardly. A blond-haired stranger with startling blue eyes would leave an indelible impression on the stonemason’s daughter, and that meant she might talk.

  Erdhan positioned the leather straps around his neck again, picked up the cart handles, and continued on down the street at a faster clip than before. To Orlla’s relief, the only other person they encountered was a busy farmer who hollered a greeting in passing as he trundled by in an ox-drawn cart.

  “We are at the baker’s abode,” Erdhan whispered, setting the cart down. “There are villagers milling around outside.”

  “Pick me up in the blankets and carry me up the stairs at the side of the building,” Orlla said.

  “Prepare yourself!” Erdhan scooped her up unceremoniously. “I must not appear to be handling a delicate creature.” He tromped up the wooden staircase, knocked on the door, and resumed his whistling while he waited. After a moment, the door creaked open.

  “Grizel, it’s me!” Orlla blurted out in an urgent whisper, sticking her head out from under the blankets.

  The woman’s dove gray eyes widened. “Orlla! What are you doing here?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Erdhan by the arm, pulled them both inside, and bolted the door behind them.

  “Ugh!” Orlla shook herself free of the moldy blankets as soon as Erdhan set her down.

  “What’s going on?” Grizel anxiously fingered her long blonde hair. “Where’s Akolom?”

  “Safe, for now,” Orlla replied. “He’s at the outpost in the Protectors’ custody. They suspect he helped Samten flee.”

  Grizel’s frown deepened. “Why are you not with him?”

  “Hamend and Brufus know of Efyllsseum’s existence and they are threatening to bring war to our shores unless we relinquish the Opal of Light. Brufus is holding Samten as surety.”

  Grizel’s eyes slid to Erdhan. “Who is this?”

  “This is Erdhan, a Macobite who saved my life. He testified before the Keepers and they have agreed to help us smuggle the light dragon stone to the mainland. We are to meet them at the Conservatory at dusk.” Orlla hesitated. “I came directly from my house. My father has disappeared.”

  Grizel’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “I was hoping I might find him with you,” Orlla continued, casting a glance around the tiny room.

  Grizel’s voice softened. “He would hardly come knocking on my door when he hasn’t left his house in years.”

  “I suppose not.” Orlla fought to keep her composure.

  “I took him a hot meal last night and waited with him to make sure he ate it,” Grizel said. “And I left bread and hardboiled eggs for his breakfast this morning.”

  “There is no food in the larder. He must have taken it with him wherever he went.” Orlla massaged her aching brow as disturbing images of her father wandering around scared and disoriented came to mind. “I’m certain he didn’t sleep in his bed last night. I have to find him. He could be lying half-frozen under a hedgerow somewhere.” She suppressed a sob. “Or King Ferghell might have taken him to the dungeons.”

  Erdhan slid a protective arm around her. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

  Orlla fixed a beseeching look on Grizel. “Do you have any inkling where he might be?”

  Grizel contemplated the question, her eyes aglow with the same keen perception as Akolom’s. “Not really, at least … no, it’s nothing.”

  “What?” Orlla gripped her by the shoulders. “Tell me, I beseech you, even if you think it means nothing.”

  Grizel stepped away from Orlla and stared distractedly at the flames flickering in the hearth. “It’s just that he seemed more alert than usual last night.”

  “In what way?” Orlla asked.

  Grizel looked pensive. “I talked about you and Samten, as I often do. Mostly, I recount stories from your childhood. Usually, your father stares blankly at the floor, or at the food in front of him.” She paused and pulled her delicate brows together as though trying to find the right words to express her thoughts. “Last night, he was different. His eyes tracked me when I mentioned your name.”

  Orlla sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

  Grizel gave an emphatic nod. “I know I didn’t imagine it, because when I was gathering up my things to leave, he asked me where you were.”

  Orlla’s heart began to pound like a drum in her chest. She held Grizel’s gaze in shocked disbelief. Was it possible? How long had it been since her father had remembered who she was?

  Grizel reached for Orlla’s trembling hand and squeezed it. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. You mustn’t allow yourself to hope for anything more. I have seen it happen before—a few hours, or days, of lucidity.” She pressed her lips tightly together. “And then it is gone again.”

  Orlla’s stomach twisted. “So, you think he may have went out to look for me and then sank back into a fog of confusion.”

  “I’m so sorry.” A haunted look flickered across Grizel’s face. “If I had suspected for a moment that he would go searching for you I would never have left him alone.”

  “You are not to blame. You couldn’t possibly have known. He hasn’t been outside our house in years.”

  Grizel reached for her cloak hanging on a peg by the door. “I’ll go out and look for him and enlist the villagers’ help. He can’t have gone far. You’ll be safe here until I return.”

  “I can go with you,” Erdhan offered. “No one knows me here.”

  “No.” Grizel’s tone was firm. “We can’t risk any probing questions about where you hail from, or why you are with me. It might get back to the Protectors.”

  She donned her cloak and unbolted the door. “Lock the door after me and don’t open it, under any circumstances, unless you hear my voice.”

  “Don’t forget we have to meet the Keepers at the Conservatory at dusk,” Orlla said.

  Grizel gave a worried nod as she slipped through the door. “I’ll be back before that, hopefully with good news.”

  As soon as the door slammed shut, Erdhan bolted it.

  “I can’t just sit around and wait until she comes back,” Orlla fretted, pacing the floor.

  “We have little choice,” Erdhan replied. “If we go back out there and someone recognizes you, we risk capture.”

  Orlla let out an exasperated groan. “My father is so frail. He wouldn’t think to don a cloak. He could scarcely survive a night outside without shelter.”

  Erdhan caught her hands in his, halting her mid-stride. “Perhaps he is stronger than you think with all that eternal youth bottled up inside him.”

  Orlla laughed despite herself and sank down in a nearby chair. “You might be right. Besides, the nights here are not half as chilly as in Macobin.”

  Erdhan pulled out a chair from the table and sat down beside her.

  Orlla studied his face. “I am truly sorry for the suffering our selfishness has inflicted on the mainland, and on your brother Franz, in particular.” She bit her lip. “If anyone had forced Samten to suffer like that, I’m not sure I could find it in my heart to forgive them.”

  Erdhan shrugged. “It was not your doing.”

  “But I was a participant in it.”

  “An unwitting woolhead,” Erdhan chided with a chuckle.

  Orlla frowned at a beetle scuttling across the floor. “I fear I would have carried on like every other Keeper before me had I not seen the mainland for myself.”

  Erdhan shook his head. “What you have seen cannot be unseen. I have faith in you not to carry on as before.”

  “I don’t want any of the things I once aspired to,” Orlla said, trying not to lose herself in Erdhan’s fathomless blue eyes.

  “What do you want?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

  “Things that could cost me.” Her heart
floundered to regain its rhythm beneath his crushing gaze.

  Erdhan stretched out a hand and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Is what you want worth the cost?”

  A loud thumping on the door shook them apart before she could answer. Hands on the hilts of their daggers, they locked eyes and waited with bated breath for Grizel to speak. Instead of the reassuring sound of her voice, another forceful knock sounded on the door.

  Chapter 24

  Erdhan raised questioning brows at Orlla, but she put a finger to her lips. Whoever was outside the door, it definitely wasn’t Grizel—and she had been clear about her instructions not to open the door to anyone else.

  A moment later, heavy footsteps retreated across the landing and then the unmistakable creak of the stairs.

  Orlla and Erdhan crept across to the window and peered cautiously through it. A tall, hooded figure stepped into the street and disappeared down a side alley.

  “Do you know who that was?” Erdhan asked.

  “No.” Orlla stared after the figure, a twinge of apprehension twisting in her gut as she contemplated the possibilities. No one knew they were here, so the stranger’s visit couldn’t have anything to do with her father, or Samten. Had someone brought Grizel news of Akolom? A nagging feeling of foreboding left her oddly discomfited. What if the stonemason’s daughter had reported the stranger in town to the Protectors at the wharf? She and Erdhan had mindlessly left the pushcart parked on the street down below, so it wouldn’t have been hard to track them down.

  The hours dragged by, the atmosphere growing more strained as Orlla and Erdhan traded off keeping watch by the window, not wanting to be caught off guard a second time by a sudden pounding on the door. When it was Erdhan’s turn to keep vigil, Orlla threw herself down on the small cot in the corner of the room, suddenly weary from the turmoil of everything that had transpired. “I’m going to rest for a bit. Keep the fire stoked and wake me for the next watch.”

  Her eyelids fluttered on the edge of sleep, and she felt herself begin to drift off, flinching every time her mind filled with unsettling images of her father or Samten pleading for help.

  She woke at the sound of the bolt on the door being drawn back. “Erdhan! Wait!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Are you sure it’s her?”

  Before he had a chance to respond, the door swung open and Grizel glided into the room. She closed the door quietly behind her and hung up her cloak.

  “Did you … find him?” Orlla stammered.

  Grizel pressed her lips together in an apologetic grimace. “I’m afraid not. No one has seen him or heard from him. Several of the villagers helped me go through the town knocking on every door.”

  Erdhan turned to Orlla. “That explains the stranger at the door.”

  She gave a shallow nod, then sank back down on the bed and dropped her head into her hands. Where could her father possibly be? And what would induce him to leave their house after all these years?

  “What did the stranger at the door look like?” Grizel asked, her brows twitching warily.

  “Hard to say. He was wearing a dark, hooded cloak,” Erdhan said. “I believe it was a man based on his height. He knocked twice, but didn’t call out your name, or say anything at all, which made us fearful a Protector had tracked us down.”

  Grizel gave a stern nod. “You did the right thing not to open the door.”

  Orlla twisted her hands distractedly. “If no one has seen my father wandering around the village, I fear he has been forcibly removed from our home.”

  “Don’t fret,” Grizel said. “He is likely curled up asleep in a warm pile of hay somewhere and perfectly safe. We will search for him again tomorrow.” She knelt at the hearth and stoked the fire. “Let me heat you up some pottage before you leave for the Conservatory.”

  After setting the table with wooden bowls and utensils, she placed a three-legged pot in the hot coals and tossed in a handful of herbs. Before long a spicy fragrant aroma wafted through the tiny room and Orlla’s stomach rumbled approvingly.

  When the pottage was sufficiently warmed, Grizel spooned out a generous portion for each of them. “Eat up.” She wiped her hands on her tunic. “You have a long and difficult night ahead of you.”

  She took a seat at the table and frowned as she lifted her spoon to her lips. “How exactly are the Keepers planning to retrieve the Opal of Light with Protectors guarding the tunnel?”

  “We can construct a rune to render it weightless and carry it out,” Orlla said, slurping her broth.

  Grizel looked up sharply. “In full view of the Protectors?”

  “We will weave a veiling rune to conceal the Keeper chosen to bring out the stone,” Orlla explained. “The Protectors won’t see anyone coming or going.”

  “I didn’t realize it was possible to veil a person,” Grizel said, sounding skeptical.

  “It’s more difficult than veiling plant life, or even animal life,” Orlla admitted. “But it can be done for short periods.”

  “Surely it will be cumbersome to carry out the stone even if it’s weightless,” Erdhan remarked.

  Orlla gave a small shrug. “’Tis but the size of a lamb’s head.”

  Grizel leaned back in her chair, a stoic look in her eyes. “Can such intricate runes be woven in a timely enough manner?”

  Orlla set down her spoon and pushed her empty bowl aside. “Every Keeper will need to participate. We will be dependent on numbers to weave the runes quickly enough to succeed.”

  Grizel nodded thoughtfully. “And you will be sorely disadvantaged without a master mentor.”

  Orlla looked pensive. “Yes, but Akolom taught us well.”

  “He is indeed an extraordinary teacher,” Grizel conceded. “But the runes that conceal the pass were built up over many years.”

  “We will only require temporary runes,” Orlla said. “If they hold long enough for us to slip by the Protectors, they will suffice.”

  “We must take our leave if we are to return to the Conservatory before dusk,” Erdhan said, pushing his chair out from the table.

  Orlla got to her feet with a grimace. “I’m not eager to climb under that pile of smelly blankets again.”

  Erdhan grinned. “I can run with the cart and limit your suffering by reaching our destination sooner.”

  Orlla arched a brow at him. “I fear being shaken like a sack of bones almost as much as enduring the odors.” She turned to Grizel. “Thank you again for everything you have done for us.”

  Grizel gathered up the bowls on the table. “Send word to me as soon as you hear from Akolom. I will do the same if I have news of your father.”

  Orlla nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She only hoped that news would be good when it came.

  True to his word, Erdhan jogged along the street with the rickety cart, forcing Orlla to brace against every jolt so she didn’t go sliding off or crack her jaw on the rough wood. Every time she heard voices, she peeked out to search for any sign of her father. It was unlikely she would spot him after Grizel had combed the town so diligently for him all day, but she kept hoping nonetheless.

  A commotion grew louder as they neared the Conservatory on the far side of Ballinkeld. Erdhan brought the cart to a sudden halt, and Orlla shifted her position to get a better look at what the ruckus was all about. She stifled a gasp. A group of mounted Protectors were cantering up the road that led from Grisalt Wharf. Her skin crawled with fear. They must have found the dead Protector’s body. Had they found Gaff too, or had he made it safely back to the mainland?

  A crowd was forming along the side of the road, engaging in nervous commentary and eyeing the masked Protectors mistrustfully. Children darted to and fro in front of the cart. Orlla shrank back a few inches. If she wasn’t careful, one of those curious sets of eyes would spot her. Her blood thumped so loudly in her head it almost drowned out the din around her. “What do you see?” she whispered to Erdhan. “Do they have Gaff?”

  “No, I don’t believ
e so,” Erdhan said, after a moment.

  Orlla exhaled a relieved breath. “What about the drowned Protector?”

  Erdhan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They appear to be escorting a live prisoner.”

  Orlla clenched her fists in frustration. Erdhan wouldn’t recognize who it was. Her stomach roiled—the stench of fear overpowering the odor of mold. Could it be her father? She was tempted to risk taking another peek, but if she was spotted now, she wouldn’t have a hope of fleeing with so many Protectors in the vicinity. “Is it a man or a woman?” she muttered urgently.

  “A man,” Erdhan said. “Hooded, and somewhat disheveled.”

  The horses’ hoofbeats thudded along the hard-packed dirt road, gradually growing softer. Orlla raised the blankets, catching a glimpse of the Protectors as they turned onto the highway leading east to Tansk, their prisoner shielded from view in their midst.

  A babble of contentious voices broke out. The cart lurched as Erdhan lifted the handles and continued on down the street toward the Conservatory.

  “Erdhan!” Orlla hissed. “Set the cart down and try and find out what the villagers know about the prisoner. Make haste, I don’t want them asking you too many questions.”

  He parked the cart by the side of the street and wandered over to a small cluster of people in heated conversation outside the fishmonger’s. Tentatively, Orlla squinted out from beneath her hiding place as Erdhan strolled nonchalantly by the villagers, stopping to inspect the hay-filled barrels of fish. He gripped his chin and frowned, making a play of deliberating his choice while he eavesdropped on their conversation.

  A shadow fell over him as the fishmonger approached, gesturing with his hands to the various barrels. After a few minutes, Erdhan shook his head and walked away. The fishmonger growled something incoherent, threw up his hands and retreated inside his shop.

  Orlla wriggled back down beneath the blankets and waited impatiently for Erdhan to cross the street. “What are they saying?” she demanded.