“I saved our hides from a miserable fate. We were doomed to begin with!” he shouted back. “Roderious sent his church dogs after us and we were cornered. Unlike you, I spotted them in the crowd back at the Cklathball match. What was I supposed to do, let them cut out our hearts in a bloody sacrifice to Qra’z?”
Anger made his vision blur, his pulse pounding in his temples, and his right eye throbbed in pain threatening to make him fall. Yet, still, he stood. “You knew all along that man was there, and you provoked him?”
Zach scowled at his old friend.
“You have ruined us,” he exclaimed, out of breath. “We are done for!” His vision was spinning, but Carym took a swing at his friend. Zach deflected it easily, thumping Carym’s sword hand for good measure. Carym shouted in pain and stumbled, seething.
“Carym, you had better lower your sword! I have little patience for your pitiful drunken emotions,” he seethed. His longtime friend knew that Carym became violent when he drank, but Carym hadn’t had a drink in a long, long time.
“Had you been anyone else, I would have killed you already,” he spat.
Carym did as he was told and lowered his sword, nursing his stinging hand, and slumped to the floor as his rage passed. He was quiet a moment as he tried to regain his composure. He and Zach were probably equals with the sword, but Zach could throw a dagger better than anyone he knew. He never really thought about it before, but given the reputation of the Spiders it made sense now. “Forgive me, brother,” he whispered.
Zach took a deep breath and sat down. “I forgive you, old friend. It has been hard for you since the Vaard killed them,” he paused remembering the wreckage they came home to find that day. “No other man has lost as much and stood as tall as you have since that day. It is only fitting now that we leave all this behind us. We must move on and start our lives anew with our brethren to the north. There, we can continue to support the movement to free Hybrand from Arnathia.”
Carym nodded but said nothing, resigning himself to the inevitable truth of their demise. As outlaws from crown and church, their only choice now was to flee.
The shadows from the tall building flanking the alley did not allow the autumn sun’s warming light to reach down to the floor and the pair were getting cold. Zach stood, and brushed himself off. He helped his friend to his feet and the two worked their way down the alley, trying as best as they could to avoid piles of refuse and waste.
“How did you know that there was a hidden alley here?”
“A benefit of membership in the Spiders,” Zach said, stopping before a door. “I know where all of the secret alleys are. We had best get moving, someone will give us up if we stay here too long.”
“Where are we going, Zach?” Carym asked tiredly.
“We go underground. I have been training with the Spiders for some time now. They will help us escape from Hybrand.”
“Evil prevails and we trudge through a gutter like rats. In all my life I never dreamed I would become an outlaw,” said Carym dejectedly.
Zach groaned with a sneer. “We are peasants who are worth nothing to the Arnathians! And Lord Cannath is a puppet whose strings are pulled by General Craxis. He is a worthless lout; he rejected his people for the gold of Arnathia!” Zach spit as he said the lord’s name. “That is why the Spiders have helped to form a resistance movement. With this turn in church policy the resistance movement will surely flourish and Arnathian tyranny will be overcome!”
“Fairly said, friend,” Carym said rubbing his head. “I am sorry. What are the chances that word of this incident has already spread to Hyrum?” The stinging look on Zach’s face registered somewhere in Carym’s fogged brain and he understood that he had cut his longtime friend deeply.
“Word will have spread by now, hopefully Argus will see to it they have only inaccurate witness descriptions to go on. We may be able to avoid recognition for now if we try to disguise ourselves. An investigation will follow and not every Cklathman can be trusted to keep his mouth closed, especially those bloody Chevals. I don’t care what they say about Willam, he is still a Cheval and not to be trusted! It will not take long for the rumors to circulate. It is no small offense to kill a Qra’zim, and we can be sure there will be retaliation.”
“Zach, back at the Inn; I swear, I think Willam helped.” Carym said slowly, having difficulty recalling facts.
“Willam helps only himself,” Zach snorted derisively. “Sober up, we need to move.”
“I’m telling you, it looked like he was standing over a limp body, someone who had been seated nearby. And, come to think of it, Rashel was gone.”
“And I’m telling you, forget it. If Willam had killed somebody, it was probably someone who was trying to help us.”
Carym nodded, though he remained unconvinced. Changing the subject he said, “If we show up at the temple in the morning we will certainly hang by noon. If we do not show up, the Lord Cannath will connect us to the dead Qra’zim and issue arrest warrants for us,” Carym sighed. It just was not supposed to be this way. “I suppose we have nothing to lose, but I cannot go with you yet. Dryume is an old friend; I want to check on him and ask his advice.”
“Fine,” Zach said irritably. “Don’t waste time! Meet me in the morning in Hyrum and be ready to travel. I hope to leave for Dockyard City tomorrow!”
Without waiting for a response from his old friend, Zach turned and led Carym away from the refuse strewn alley. They walked through a series of alleys he never knew existed, and Zach brought him to the edge of Hybrand City. From there the two bade each other farewell. The irritation in Zach’s voice was not lost on Carym and he began to feel guilty for his skepticism toward his old friend; Zach had never failed to support his childhood pal, he’d had always had Carym’s back.
Zach abruptly turned and went on his way, leaving Carym to set out for the little village of Hyrum and ponder the day’s misfortunes. Hoping to avoid unnecessary confrontation, Carym made the journey by taking small meandering game trails in the forest rather than the main road. Two hours later he arrived at the edge of the forest near Hyrum. Carym drew his cloak tightly about his body and pulled his hood low over his head, the dampness of the forest began to settle in now that the sun was beginning its downward trek. He remained hidden for several moments watching for signs of Imperial troops or anyone else. Finally, he felt it safe enough to continue on to his first destination.
Quietly, he walked up the path that led to the front porch of his home. It was a small brown cottage with a thatched roof. A large wooden door with an iron ring for a handle led inside. There was a small sitting porch that spanned the front side of the cottage with two comfortable chairs. Stopping for a moment on the porch, Carym wistfully remembered many summers sitting there in the shade of that porch with Ariana. She had been his childhood sweetheart and his best friend. He bit his lip, shook himself, and resolved not to allow his emotions to best him again. It was time for a new beginning; it was time to leave behind the broken memories and heartache of his past and start over. Although, he wasn’t really sure he would be able to take that first step.
Carym opened the door, stepped inside and hung his cloak on the hook. He took a few moments to clean up and change into some fresh clothes. He sat down on his bed, and put his head in his hands to think. Just when he thought he was really getting his life back together, suddenly everything got complicated.
Life was supposed to have been better under Imperial rule. Carym was reminded of the bitter lesson learned by his people during the time leading up to Arnathian occupation. Before he was murdered, Thayne Kiernan had warned his people of the evil spirit behind friendly Arnathian faces.
With the reputation as a staunch Arnathian loyalist, the voluntary repatriation of Cannath Du Val Hyr was a surprise to all, and an unwelcome one at that. For several years he continued to surprise everyone by earnestly trying to better the lives of his countrymen under the harsh leadership of General Craxis. Eventually, however, he had worn o
ut his welcome with Craxis and found there was little he could do. Carym did not envy him. Lord Cannath did not ask to have a traitor for a grandfather. As a fellow veteran, Carym understood what duty meant; the man had little choice but to do as he was instructed. No Cklathman could find fault with the man’s military career; his valor in battle reflected a sense of pride in his fellow Cklathmen, even if that pride was somewhat tempered by distrust. And, he had never served as part of the force that occupied his homeland, his career had taken him to the farthest reaches of the empire and he retired upon earning the rank of prefect. Carym was among a growing number of Cklathmen who were beginning to believe Lord Cannath was not the loyalist his father and grandfather had been.
Carym knew Zach was right. A rebellion supported by the Thayne of Brythyn might just be the only answer left to save Hybrand from the Arnathian Empire. His days as a law-abiding citizen were over, it was only a matter of time before he was caught and executed. He shuddered as he remembered the horrible sight in the temple square earlier today.
“Brother Thrayador, why did Ulrych not rescue his chosen disciple?” Carym wondered aloud. I should not tarry, he reminded himself with a sigh, holding a small wooden carving. An old friend made it for him after the Vaard attacked, killing his wife and child. It was the one thing he treasured above all else. He placed the carving in his pocket and stood. He strapped his Cklath Militiaman long sword to his side and slung his bow and quiver along with some extra strings. He knew it might be a long time before he returned to his village so he grabbed his coat and a small pack filled with traveling supplies and prepared to leave. But he stopped as he reached the door, and faced the wall where his trophy fish had been mounted. He took the four-piece bamboo fishing rod from the wall and slipped the pieces into small sleeves sewn onto the outside of his quiver. Into his pack went a small sack of metal hooks and a spool of horsehair line. Locking his door, Carym stepped out onto the porch for a final look at those comfortable chairs and made a promise to himself that he would return one day for a good pipe smoke.
Carym looked up and down the dirt trail that served as a main road for his tiny village, but no one was about. He pulled the hood of his cloak low over his face and set off for Blackthorne Forest, all the while feeling as though he was abandoning the memory his wife and his child. He believed in Zuhr, as many Cklathmen did, yet the ways of that old religion did little to comfort him in the tragedy of that dreadful day. Some said a spirit taken in violence was doomed to a tormented afterlife, while others claimed the spirit was tied to the location where it passed, forever. And those were just the words of the followers of Zuhr. The followers of Qra’z had worse to say. To them, a peaceful afterlife was only available to the powerful and elite; the best anyone else could hope for was to become food for the ground worms.
Carym fervently hoped Dryume would help him face his fear of leaving them behind. He just couldn’t go on knowing that they were here, in Hyrum, in his cottage while he was preparing for a journey. With despair in his heart, Carym set off for Blackthorne forest.
C H A P T E R
5
A Druid’s Advice.
Aftermath.
The sun began to set over Hybrand, its golden rays pierced through the trees offering Carym a shady view of the tangled trails upon which he traveled. It was deathly still this cool and damp evening and it seemed as though every stick and branch he touched crackled like thunder. Thankfully, the light from the setting sun made the onerous task of spotting those ankle breaking owl burrows much easier than in total darkness; something his ankles were regrettably familiar with. Burrowing owls and digger turtles were the more pesky creatures in this region, mainly because they enjoyed making their burrows in places where humans and horses routinely walked.
Carym made his way deeper into Blackthorne Forest, the home and sacred wood of the old druid. He had often sought the advice of Dryume who was a very old family friend. Carym’s mother and grandmother had been acquainted with the old man, and he was old even then.
Pine needles and dead leaves crunched underfoot and his warm breath formed a mist in the cool autumn air. A great elk raised his head from the tall grass of a nearby meadow, his eyes reflecting the golden light of the sun. Carym stopped and looked back, admiring the majestic beauty of this lord of the forest. The elk snorted, as though assessing the threat Carym posed to him. Carym stood very still, not wishing to be gored by the creature’s massive antlers, and he just waited for a few moments. Then, slowly, the elk turned and ambled away into the forest. Carym smiled and continued on towards the druid’s home.
The beautiful forest of pine, oak, and birch, opened into a clearing at the base of a magnificent stone formation. He stared into the clearing for many moments, collecting his thoughts and choosing how best to approach the often ornery old man. He marveled at the ring of granite and marble stones soaring twenty feet into the air, calling out a challenge the heavens. Every time he came to this grove, Carym truly felt as though he were in a holy place. Now, nearly nightfall, the setting sun cast a spray of orange and red light upon the henge, settling his nerves somewhat.
“Greetings, Carym of Hyrum.”
Carym nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to face the bearer of a voice as soft as a summer breeze and musical as an Elvish harp.
“You will not need that blade, I will not harm you.”
He was so mesmerized he could not have drawn his weapon had he been facing the hurkin horde alone. He was face to face with the most beautiful woman possessed of the most radiant green eyes he had ever seen. Her hair was at once red and gold and yellow and appeared to be woven from the fibers of fall leaves, yet looked as soft as a baby’s skin. She wore a crown of woven flowers atop her brow, and nothing else.
“Who are you?” he asked, unable to take his eyes from her naked beauty.
“To many I am known as the Goddess of the Wood. But the truth of the matter is that I am no more a god than you are,” she said sadly.
Carym appeared confused, her beauty bespoke of power and radiance, yet it did seem that the matter of godliness was lacking.
“The heavens are in turmoil, all that is known is soon to be unknown. Change of great magnitude is coming to the heavens and it will rock the faith of every mortal being on Llars.”
The power in her eyes locked him in place, her words striking fear deep within him. His mind was racing, his world had spun completely out of control in but one day. He wanted to believe he was dreaming, that he would wake up any moment mourning the loss of the beautiful forest lady. Sadly, he knew this was not to be. Ironically, he would not be sorry to take his leave of this shocking yet lovely woman.
“You have been chosen, Carym. Chosen to be an instrument of great change.”
Carym didn’t know what that meant, but found that any form of intelligent speech had left him and felt it wise to remain silent.
“The time of the many gods is over, the time of mortals is now at hand. The time comes for mortals to be responsible for their own paths,” she looked at him with those green eyes, seeing through his soul. “Mortals will soon learn the Truth of the heavens and the Truth of the Great Father.”
“Why me?” he demanded, anger helping him to regain his senses. He felt sad and joyful and angry and befuddled all at once. She stood scant inches from him, his heart pounded.
“You must leave your past behind, Carym, but you must never forget it. You carry with you the remembrance of Ariana and Elana.”
Carym flinched and pressed his hand to his pocket feeling the comfort of the wooden carving.
“You need to know they are safe, Carym.”
“Are they?” he sputtered, an angry tear rolled down his cheek. “The faithful of Qra’z would disagree, as would many of those who claim to be followers of the old ways of Zuhr.”
“Many people will say many things, Carym. Trust that your loved ones are with the Great Father now, and there they await you with all your loved ones who have passed before you,”
she said earnestly. She placed her hand on his shoulder and a vision overtook him.
He was back home watching himself, his little baby, his bride. He was seeing his life, seeing the happiness they shared so briefly. Too briefly. Then he saw more. He saw them again, she was holding Elana in her arms. She was looking at him. She touched his face with her hand, then embraced him, their baby between them. He began to sob; how he missed them so! How angry he was that they were taken from him; and how ashamed he was for the actions he took to avenge them.
Ariana pushed back from him then and spoke to him, “My beloved. I forgive you, Elana forgives you. You could do nothing for us that day. Our time was at hand. Yours was not.”
He tried to speak, to tell her he failed her, to tell her she was wrong. He was frozen.
“You are meant for great things, beloved. And a great burden shall be placed on you. You must let us go!” she said, kindly, warmly, with forgiveness in her eyes. “You must devote yourself to the task the Great Father will lay at your feet. This is your time. You cannot serve Him while you mourn me. It is time for you leave Hyrum and find your destiny. I will always be watching you, and we will meet again.”
Now Carym was sobbing uncontrollably. When he was able to open his eyes, he found himself in the embrace of the woman of the woods, his head on her shoulder, his guilt and shame rapidly departing his soul.
“You are forgiven, Carym. The Great Father is merciful and forgives your sins.”
“How is this possible?” he asked between sobs. “Was that really her? Was that really my baby?”
“All things are possible in the light of the Great Father! Faith is a wonderful thing Carym, and something you must keep. Even my sins, my own pride, have been forgiven. And now, I will serve Him as I should have done all along.”
Finally Carym was able calm down and he did in fact feel better. He did not know how long he stood there, in the arms of a woman worshipped as a goddess. This was Zerva! He stood apart from her again and bowed low to her in respect and thanks. He truly felt the weight of his burdens lifted, an open wound on his soul finally beginning to heal.
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