When Harold came out to join them, the wagon was already packed. “If only they were this fast on other days,” Harold said to Celina as he kissed his wife by the front door entrance. He moved to the wagon and checked to make sure everything was secure and ready to go.
Samuel and Elye jumped in the back of the wagon, legs dangling as they rode toward the farm gate. Faray, who was the oldest, rode his brown bay next to Harold at the head of the wagon. They waved at their mother, who stood by the side of the house waving back as she watched the wagon roll out of their farm.
Chartum-Valley was a small farm town with two mills owned by Peter Lyman and Godfrey Cherie. Stan Martin ran the blacksmith’s shop with his son, Owen.
They had three stops to make on their way to Bayshia, first in the town of Orie, which was a two-day ride, and then at three inns in the next town, where Harold did his trading before going to the city.
Whitney Gaynor’s inn, the “Ladies Nest,” was always their first stop. When they arrived, they stopped at the corner of the inn and Harold asked Samuel to join him.
They went through a side entrance into the building. As a boy, this was the first two-level building Samuel had ever seen. The inn was always clean, with plenty of food, drink, and music. Rich merchants and nobles only used Whitney Gaynor’s inn when they were in this part of town, and it was rumored that Prince Paron had visited once.
As mistress of the inn, Gaynor was poised, with a face that was always welcoming, yet at the same time, one not to be trifled with.
“Welcome!” Betria, one of the waitresses, said, seeing Harold from a corner table. “I’ll let the mistress know you are here,” she said before darting away.
A few minutes later, Gaynor stepped out from behind the double door that led into the kitchen and other rooms at the back.
“It’s good to see you, Harold,” she said with a smile as she turned to look at Samuel, who was standing next to his father.
“He’s turned into a handsome young man. I still remember your first visit to Orie as a little boy. How the years truly go by quickly.”
“Yes,” Harold said, agreeing with her sentiment.
“So, is he still fascinated with the bow and arrow?”
“Yes, he is. Ever since he could walk,” Harold replied, “and he is impressively good, too.”
Samuel felt embarrassed hearing them talk about him. He was now seventeen, but they talked about him as if he were still nine, even though he was proud to hear his father speak of him with such high regard. The topic changed to the rest of his family, and then to the purpose of their business.
“I’ll have someone open the cellar so they can start unloading,” Gaynor said.
Calling on one of her maids, she instructed her about what she needed done and promptly sent her away. She turned her attention back to Harold.
“If I may be excused,” Samuel said, bowing his head toward Gaynor, “I will join Elye and Faray to unload the wagon.” He made his way to the main entrance as the voices of Harold and Gaynor talking slowly faded behind him.
By the time Samuel joined them, they and Gaynor’s male helpers were almost done unloading the part of the wagon that belonged to her.
Their next stop was Wayk Ritchie, a man just past his middle years with a little streak of white on his hair.
He always had a pipe at the side of his mouth. When he smiled, you could see the gap in his front teeth. Ritchie had come a long way since owning this tavern.
Where there had once been frequent, violent brawls, there were now only the occasional quarrels. Most wives came to his tavern when they were looking for their husbands, and he knew a lot about the affairs of those who Patronized his establishment.
It was dusk by the time they got to Silla Coal’s inn. She was Harold’s older sister—skinny and small, but she had more white streaks in her hair.
They unloaded the rest of the items on the wagon, and that evening had supper in the kitchen. Elye, Samuel, and Faray shared a room, where they spent the rest of the night playing a board game and talking about what they were going to do in the city of Bayshia.
Samuel was looking forward to trying again at the archery competition. He was not going to settle for second place this time, after barely losing by two points in one of the challenges. He’d spent a lot of time practicing when he wasn’t working in the field.
Elye was looking forward to the magic show that always came into town at this time; there was always something new in every show, and he’d enjoyed the show since the first time he saw it with his father.
Faray was looking forward to seeing Klair, the daughter of a wine merchant named Aram. He and Harold were friends before they moved from Chartum-Valley to Bayshia, and Faray had known Klair since they were young. He hoped that one day she would be betrothed to him, if he ever mustered the courage to ask her out on a real date. “I’m going to do it this time,” he thought to himself.
Faray seemed lost in his own thoughts when Elye said to Samuel, “Well, we know what he’s thinking about…Klair!” he said in a teasing whisper.
“No, I’m not,” Faray sneered.
“I don’t know much about girls,” Elye continued, “but I know that until you summon the courage to ask—”
“Yes, you don’t know anything about girls,” Faray cut in, “and the delicate act of courting.” His tone had a slight agitation in it.
“Okay…” Elye said, dousing the little spark of irritation he seemed to have kindled. They went to bed some time later after finishing the game.
It was early morning the next day and the sound of roosters crowing could be heard at different parts of the town as Harold, Faray, Samuel, and Elye made their way out of town. A few people were in the street, sweeping around their shops, while others were getting ready to leave for their varying tasks.
The morning was hazy, with the sun still behind the horizon, as they rode out of Orie. Once the town was behind them, the horses picked up their pace. With the wagon empty, they rode faster toward Bayshia.
Chapter 7
Unexplained Connection
The city of Bayshia was fortified by an inner and outer wall. It was the first of its kind, built generations ago by an ingenious king. In an attack, it was said that the city could sustain itself and its people for years.
Bayshia was known for its industries and goods, which were popular around the four Kingdoms. The city seemed to draw master craftsmen of all kinds, including wood and stone, which was evident in some of the amazing structures inside the inner wall. But what set the city apart from the rest of the Kingdom was its advancement in weaponry, which King Portman sometimes showed off to his people so they knew they were safe.
Beyond the city were miles of open meadow, with rolling hills and trees at the horizon.
During the celebration of the harvest, which happened every three years, peasants were allowed to set up camp inside the outer wall of the city for a small fee.
The inns inside were filled with travelers from around the land, with merchants arriving days ahead of time, making the prices during this time outrageous.
As Harold, Faray, Samuel, and Elye rode in past the outer wall, Samuel thought there were fewer tents this time than the last time they were at the festival. It did not seem as crowded inside the outer wall. Maybe it was just him; besides, three years was a long time ago, and a lot had changed, including his own perspective now that he was older. As their wagon rolled along with the crowd into the inner wall, the sound on their approach steadily grew, like entering an arena filled with people. Visitors could not help but be consumed by the sense of jubilation.
Even though the inner wall was also crowded, it wasn’t as bad as the last time Samuel remembered attending the festival—they had to push their way through the crowd. This didn’t mean that it still wasn’t crowded and loud as they celebrated the season. They just didn’t have to push their way through as much this time.
Guards stood at every intersection, keeping watch
as usual, and the shops were still packed with people. Street hawkers moved about, displaying their goods as they cried out to get people’s attention. Along one of the streets were young girls and boys with painted faces and bright-colored costumes performing juggling acts and acrobatics, trying to draw the crowd to their show.
An assortment of conflicting musical instruments was playing all around them, mixed in with the sound of the crowd itself; it was an exciting time. These outdoor shows were only allowed during the harvest celebration.
“Boys, be at Stone Hog before dusk,” Harold said as Samuel and Elye jumped off the wagon, eager to explore.
“I will stay with Father to get Mother’s provisions; good luck on the competition,” Faray said to Samuel as they rode off, disappearing into the crowd.
Samuel and Elye made their way through the sea of people toward the eastern corner of the city, where merchants outside the city had their goods on display. The vast area had hundreds of booths, and it was claimed that during the harvest festival, you could find anything you were looking for, from clothes in their varying styles and fashion in the four Kingdoms to livestock that included exotic animals not found in these parts. Herbs that merchants claimed could cure any ailment, to ointment, tools, and endless kinds of jewelry.
The lively sound of chatter filled the air as they walked, viewing the different items on display. Samuel, who was a tall young man for his age, could see from their position the two-story tent with its rainbow of colors that was the site of the magic show five booths away.
“I don’t understand what you find so interesting about magic shows at fourteen, but…they’re your coins.”
Elye did not respond to Samuel’s rhetorical question; his excitement was still the same as the first time he saw the show.
“I’ll join you once I’m signed up for the competition,” Samuel said as Elye stood in the growing line and others joined him, waiting to get in.
“I won’t wait for you if you are not on time,” Elye said as Samuel turned left, disappearing between two tents. He made his way down several makeshift footpaths created to accommodate the traffic.
After several minutes, Samuel came to the familiar booth with the name “Ramthon Flight” carved on a painted plaque above.
Adam, a skinny man with a narrow face who was past his middle years, was watching the street when Samuel walked up.
“Ah…the young man that took second place…oh, I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I mean, almost made first place,” he said with a smile, which caused Samuel to blush with embarrassment.
“It’s good to see someone who is persistent and will not quit when he wants something. The competition is going to be harder this time, though, with some new and old competitors like yourself trying for first place.”
He continued talking as Samuel placed four coins in front of him.
“It starts in an hour,” Adam said, “so listen for the bell.” He pointed to two well-built and armed men to his right. “The entrance is over there. You know the routine; show them your ticket.”
Once he verified the paid amount, he handed Samuel a ticket.
“See you in an hour,” Samuel said just before turning to leave.
“Good luck,” Samuel heard Adam say as he shifted his bow, which rested across his chest, to place the ticket inside his shirt pocket before heading back the way he came. Taking his first side street, he was surprised by a group of horsemen who almost ran him over. He barely made it out of their way as the boot of one of the riders brushed him at the shoulder as they rode by. The sounds of their horses’ hooves had been muted by the noise of the crowd.
He was lucky they had been moving at a canter and not a gallop; even though with this crowd, it would have been impossible to ride at any other pace without running over people.
He was about to rebuke the riders when he noticed the black and green uniforms with the golden seal at the back; they were the king’s guards, and he kept his peace. The riders did not notice him, either, as they seemed fixed on getting to their destination.
Samuel leaned over to nurse the pain in his right shoulder when a sudden sensation he could not explain overcame him. It was that warning feeling you get in an imminent danger just before it happens; he spun his head from right to left, but saw nothing.
The feeling did not go away as he tried to discern the cause of this sensation that was growing. That was when his eyes were drawn to four figures kicking something on the ground. It was in an alleyway some distance away that led to a dead end. Without thinking, Samuel started running toward the four men, pulled by some unknown force.
His heart began to race as he ran; suddenly, something inside him that he could not explain was ignited. The sensation grew until it completely consumed him with an unexplainable rush—not the kind that comes from facing an enemy in battle, but something more.
Afraid of what was happening, Samuel tried to stop himself, and like a dream, he could only watch as things unfold in front of him. The surge that ran through his body began to change him, and within a short span, he suddenly had clarity of mind. At the same time, the physical manifestation of the internal change left a silver hue around him.
His vision became sharper and he could see more than what regular sight would permit. He could pick out little details around him as his consciousness was expanded. Taking off his bow and one of his wooden arrows, he pulled on the string.
“A’shar-ta-nara,” he said in a voice and language alien to him and released the arrow. Once fired, the arrow changed midair into some form of silver, splitting into four straight pieces.
The arrows struck the four men at the same spot on their thighs, and one of them screamed with pain, followed by the others who grabbed their legs in like manner. One of them glanced at Samuel, who was now about thirty yards from them, and the other three looked in the same direction.
Struck with fear of the approaching bowman with silver eyes and hair, they hobbled as fast as they could away from the scene into the crowd, holding onto their legs.
Samuel stopped where the men once stood, looking like a cat ready to pounce on any prey that passed by. Just as it had started, the strange energy that coursed through him dissipated, leaving him weak. The essence of life he’d felt had slipped out of him like a leaky clay pot.
He stood stunned, trying to gather his thoughts together when he heard someone groaning. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw a young man crouched down.
“They are gone,” he said as the stranger took his hands from around his head that he had been protecting from being kicked.
“Are you okay?” Samuel asked.
“Yes,” the young man replied in a raspy voice, trying to clear his throat.
Samuel reached out his hand, and the young man took it and he pulled him to his feet.
Once on his feet, the young man started brushing off the dirt on his worn-out trousers. With the care he took cleaning himself off, it was obvious he didn’t have much, that being his first concern.
His head was level with Samuel’s nose and he seemed surprised, looking into Samuel’s eyes as if noticing them for the first time. He took a step back.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Samuel said, taking a step back too, to reassure the stranger he wasn’t going to cause him any harm. “I’m Samuel Wyman, and you have no reason to be frightened of me,” he said.
“What is your name?” he asked in as friendly a tone as he could make it.
“Jayden,” the stranger replied in a steadier voice as he returned to brushing off the dust on his shirt.
Jayden was of medium height and build, and roughly the same age as him, seventeen, Samuel thought.
He could not help noticing how guarded Jayden was of him, even though he had accepted his help. It was obvious from his appearance that the young man was destitute; his clothes were worn out and old. But what was odd about his appearance was what he was wearing, gloves. Leather gloves on a warm day like this.
Jay
den had a black spot on the side of his cheek where he was kicked. The bruise was not pronounced on his light-brown skin. There was sand in his jet-black curls and blood on his lower lip that was cut.
Using his knuckles, Jayden pressed his gloved fingers against the swollen area of his lips and brushed his tongue over the cut to temper the swelling.
“I don’t mean to pry, but what did those men want with you?” Samuel asked.
“Those thieves,” Jayden said in a vile tone, “and they claim to be guards. One of them took an interest in me when I came through the inner gate at dawn. Scanning my cart, one of the guards looked at the other, giving him what I think was a signal that I was alone before telling me to go on. I could sense…I mean, I saw both of them a few hours later following me, hiding behind the crowd, hoping I wouldn’t notice.
“I was cornered here by two strangers, and as I turned to flee, the two I recognized were right in front of me. Too close for an escape, I stepped back. They must have reckoned that the noise from the crowds along the side street would mute my attempt to scream for help, and I knew it, too. My only option was to try to talk my way out of the situation.
“‘Where did someone like you get the items you are selling?’ one of the men asked, pushing me against the wall. ‘I know you folks along the delta don’t have things like this,’ he said squeezing my shoulder against the wall. I was about to speak when another cut in.
“Does it matter? He obviously stole it from some high Lord, with all the thieves that swamp the city at the time. We’ll seize the rest of your stolen goods and pardon you this time, since we are fair-minded people here in Bayshia, but you will have to leave the city.
“Even with the covetous look in their eyes, I had to see if I could talk my way out of the situation, but it fell on deaf ears,” Jayden continued. “They wasted no time as one of them struck me hard on the back of my head. Flashes of color blurred my vision as I staggered forward, and another punched me in the stomach. I fell to the ground, trying to catch my breath as a succession of kicks fell on me, and I tried to protect myself. One of them must have taken off the tarp on my cart and discovered that it was empty. He kept asking, ‘Where are the items?’ But I said nothing, still on the ground trying to protect myself.”
The Silver Arrow Page 5