The Heretic's Song (The Song's Of Aarda Book 1)

by K Schultz

  “Yuh best go slow young’un,” Isil cautioned.

  “Wrapping the grips won’t take much strength or energy, Isil,” he said, as he rose from the table. He lifted the lid of a trunk near the kitchen and rummaged through it. “See, here are the strips. I can start right now.”

  Laakea brought the rawhide strips to the table, and got a bowl from the kitchen. Isil can you get water to soak this leather? I will wet it and wrap it around the hilts and when it shrinks it will tighten on the grip.”

  She left to fetch the water. Isil had notice a change in Rehaak’s mood. It troubled her but she said nothing to Laakea. She did not want to bother him with her worries just yet. Laakea needed time to heal, although after the meal and copious amounts of water, he looked better than he had before the meal. Her cooking was good, but incapable of working miracles. Laakea must be right when he said that Eniila bodies healed faster than Abrhaani bodies since the change looked miraculous to her.

  Rehaak rose and cleaned up the breakfast leftovers. He worked in silence, periodically looking at Laakea over his shoulder, while he worked.

  Laakea took the swords out of their wrappings again and sat contemplating the work he did, five nights ago.

  “Rehaak, can you go to the village soon? I will need heavy leather strapping for the breastplate. Father and I made hundreds of buckles.”

  “I shall leave first thing tomorrow morning to see the tanner. You shall have the finest and strongest leather he can supply.”

  The day slipped away, as they found work, to keep them busy. By nightfall, Laakea had completed wrapping the sword grips.

  The following morning they were up at sunrise. When they ate breakfast together Laakea looked as fit as he ever had. He tried to ask Rehaak for details about the next step in his quest for the Aetheriad, but Rehaak gave him the impression he wanted to avoid the issue. Laakea gave up and went out to the forge to find buckles for fastening his breastplate.

  Rehaak rose and gathered his things for the trip to the village.

  “Yuh best not lollygag,” Isil chided.

  “I shall hurry as if my life depended on it — because it does,” he answered, and left the house, closing the door behind him. “Farewell friends,” he whispered.

  Rehaak struggled to keep his emotions at bay, as he parted from his friends for the final time. It was better to leave now before Isil and Laakea lost their lives trying to protect him. Fate constructed the twists and turns of his life, and circumstances beyond his control forced him onto paths he would otherwise avoid. Rehaak wanted to escape from fate’s unwelcome demands on his life again.

  Laakea and Isil were important to him. It was the only way to protect his brave friends. His heart like a shard of stone in his chest as he paced away from the house and forge.

  The strong bonds that bound him to Isil and Laakea waged silent warfare with his resolve. Although his feet still led him away, his heart kept turning back to Isil and Laakea. Rehaak wavered in his decision.

  Perhaps he would get the leather from the village for Laakea. He had all day, to decide whether to return. His mind was in utter turmoil, as he made and unmade his decision to abandon his friends. He followed the trail leading to the Dun Dale road. For most of its length, it ran beside a stream. Rehaak was so busy with his own thoughts, that he did not notice the silent shadows stalking him.

  Chapter 30

  Rehaak hurried along the road toward Dun Dale, bogged in a morass of conflicting thoughts. After rounding a bend in the road Rehaak saw a man striding along ahead of him. The man wore fine apparel instead of the travel-worn patched clothing typical of locals. Rehaak gained on the fellow. Strangers seldom visited the village, especially strangers wearing expensive clothing.

  Rehaak’s curiosity overruled his caution. He must discover why this man traveled to Dun Dale. Important people never went to the village, and most were ignorant that Dun Dale existed. Rehaak increased his pace. The fellow ahead sensed Rehaak’s intent, stopped and turned to watch Rehaak approach.

  “Hallo!” he called with a smile.

  “Well met, friend,” Rehaak responded. “Are you traveling to New Hope?”

  “No, Dun Dale is my destination. Have I taken a wrong turn?”

  “This road leads to the village. You have made no mistake. Though I suspected that you were lost, since I only recently heard of the place myself and I am more familiar with these parts.”

  “Dun Dale is indeed, my goal, as it has been all the weary way from Narragansett. I would relish company, if you have a mind to walk with me. I fear the trees are closing in on me, in this deserted place. These open spaces without people give me the shivers. I fear this is no fit place for one accustomed to city life.”

  “I have no objection to your kind offer sir.” Rehaak paused, wondering if he should give his name since the outsider was a nobleman from the city that had exiled him.

  The stranger broke the silence. “Dreyenar Asanudain is my name,” he said, using the second name as was customary with the nobility. “Call me Drey. I have come on an inspection tour.”

  Drey did not say what he was inspecting, nor did he mention who had sent him on this long journey without escort. The omission set off warnings. Nobles did not wander the countryside without a retinue. Rehaak used a false name since it was better to err on the side of caution when approaching this stranger.

  “Saarik is my name noble sir,” he said.

  “I can tell by your speech you are a man of breeding, unless I am mistaken,” said Drey. He paused and looked into Rehaak’s eyes, as if to gage his truthfulness.

  “Not of breeding, good noble sir, but I am an educated man, the result of having ambitious parents,” Rehaak lied again.

  “Ah, I suppose that most parents have that inclination to a greater or lesser extent. It is natural, for parents to want better for their children than what they have received at the hands of the gods. Let us continue our conversation, if you would be so kind as to accompany me.”

  “With a good will, sir. Lead on,” Rehaak replied.

  “No doubt you are wondering about my retinue or my lack thereof.”

  “I admit the thought had crossed my mind. It is — unusual for one of the gentry, such as yourself, to journey this far without companions.”

  “Ah yes, they deserted me along the way when brigands set upon us. The blackguards left me to fend for myself. I should have taken my own men, instead of mercenaries hired for the journey. I will not repeat that error, Saarik,” he nodded feigning regret.

  Drey’s story rang false and Rehaak’s apprehension increased.

  “What is it that brings you so far from the capital, if I may be so bold as to enquire?”

  “You may indeed ask, but I am not at liberty to explain my reasons. What brought you to this hinterland, Saar? May I call you Saar? Or do you prefer Saarik?”

  “Saar is fine. I grew tired of the city and I chose this direction on a whim and it has suited me well enough until now.”

  “Ah, do I detect the winds of change tugging at your cloak? Do you seek new adventures to satisfy your soul, my friend?”

  “You might well say that, Drey. I have traveled most of my life and perhaps only tradition calls me on, but I believe it may be time for me to move along once more.”

  “Wonderful!” Dreyenar said. “I am in need of companions. You should consider joining me. Our meeting may have divine significance and we may gain mutual benefit from journeying together.”

  “I must first ask a question.” Rehaak hesitated. “Where are you bound?”

  If this fellow headed back to the city, it meant trouble for him. Perhaps The Creator provided Drey as an avenue to protect Laakea and Isil from their foolhardy commitment to him. If Rehaak disappeared, he set them free from the quest and they could live anonymous lives in safety, but niggling doubts about Dreyenar still plagued Rehaak.

  “I am bound to meet my Master, who is undertaking a voyage to Baradon. Once I have overseen his interests i
n this region, I shall journey southward along the coast, to the port of Aeron Suul. I shall miss my scheduled meeting with my Master, but we will seek passage to Baradon and meet him there instead.”

  “That sounds well enough to me, I accept your offer,” Rehaak said pretending confidence, but doubts still lingered about Drey and his mysterious Master.

  Rehaak felt pangs of conscience for betraying the trust that Laakea and Isil had in him. He shrugged it off and it abated. Drey and Rehaak continued talking as they walked towards the village together.

  Once they reached the village, Drey excused himself to attend a meeting on behalf of his Master. Rehaak wandered the streets alone until he reached the decrepit inn named the Dancing Dog, there he ordered a pint of beer and a joint of mutton. He sat alone at a table in a dark corner since it was his custom in recent days, to remain inconspicuous, when in town.

  As he sat enjoying his meal and his beer, four men entered the establishment and made their way to a table across the room from him. Each of the four men wore cloaks and hoods, in spite of the midday heat. The uneasiness he felt intensified, as the men ordered food and drink. Rehaak shrank further into the shadows in his corner. He had chosen a table away from the window and door. In hindsight, he wished that he had picked a spot nearer the door, so he might slip unnoticed from the inn, but it was too late for that now.

  A sinister haze surrounded the fellows across the room. The innkeeper seemed to sense it too as he brought the men their beer. Once Aert, the innkeeper, set the tankards in front of them, he rushed away but stopped at Rehaak’s table to see if he wanted more food.

  “Do they come here often, Aert?” Rehaak whispered with a nod toward the newcomers.

  “Aye, dey do,” Aert responded. “And dey gives me duh shivers jus lookin at em. Dey be up to no good. Anyone can tell dat right off. Why does yuh ask?”

  “I may have met similar men.”

  “And yuh survived tuh tell? Consider yerself lucky den. I hear dey be assassins, but who dey’d want tuh assassinate in dese parts is beyond muh reckoning. Dey’ll be gone soon enough, thank duh gods. Dey never stays long.”

  Rehaak breathed a sigh of relief at Aert’s words. He considered making a run for it, but if they would leave soon, he could just wait them out. Rehaak sank lower in his seat and pulled his hat over his eyes, trying to disappear into the shadows. He checked that his staff still leaned against the wall beside him and felt the reassuring weight of the knife in his belt.

  Once he had steadied his nerves, he cupped his tankard in both hands like a determined drunk, lowered his head and furtively watched the men. Moments crept by, as he waited for the men to finish their meal and leave. Rehaak nursed his beer, his eyes fixed on the strangers from under the brim of his hat. Tension increased, until the door to the inn opened and Drey stepped through it.

  Drey looked around, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior of the inn. Rehaak was about to call out and invite Drey to join him, but Drey ambled over to the table occupied by the four forbidding strangers. The hooded men shared a handclasp with Drey and he joined them. Rehaak could not overhear their conversation, but he discerned they huddled over the table plotting evil. The way they reacted to Drey’s presence, marked Dreyenar as their leader.

  The innkeeper brought a tankard to Drey and asked for his order, which he declined. They had stopped talking when Aert approached and did not speak again until he departed.

  Rehaak’s anxiety had reached a high pitch by the time Aert returned with another tankard of ale for him. Rehaak had not asked for another. It would have been his third, two more than his usual limit. When Aert set the tankard on the table, he paused, leaned down, and whispered to Rehaak.

  “I knows who yuh are, Rehaak and dey be looking fer yuh. Dey thinks muh wits is dull, and dat may be, but muh ear is sharp as any. I owes yuh a kindness fer curin my little’uns, when dey got duh fever last winter.”

  Rehaak whispered that he knew nothing of this cure or the village, but Aert signaled him to silence.

  “I knows yuh don’t, but muh cousin what lives in New Hope; he got duh potion from yuh and sent it on tuh us. Follow me, an I can repay muh debt tuh yuh right now. If’n yuh waits much longer, it might be too late.”

  Rehaak slipped away from his table without alerting the men conspiring at the far end of the room. He followed Aert into his living quarters, attached to the rear of the inn. They rushed through the kitchen. Aert hushed his wife and children as they tried to greet Rehaak, and whisked him through the back door to the woodshed.

  When they reached the shed Aert said, “I wouldn’t stay hereabouts now if’n I was you. Rumor has it dey got one o’ Raamya’s boys lookin fer yuh too. Dey bin out tuh yer place and found it empty. Mato, Raamya’s son’s bin askin fer yuh, but none likes him and none would tell him anythin.”

  “I must get leather strips for a friend before I leave town. Is it safe?” Rehaak said as he realized his only option, lay in fulfilling his original mission.

  “Not unless it be more important dan yer life. Tell yuh what — I’ll send one o’ duh young’uns tuh fetch what yuh need and you just hunker down here in duh shed until dark. Den we can get yuh on yer way without no fuss and bother.”

  “Thank you Aert. Here, I have gold for the leather.”

  “Never mind dat foolishness. Duh tanner owes yuh fer yer healin potions too. He’ll be more dan willin tuh give yuh what is necessary once we explain it tuh him. We are all beholden tuh yuh in one way or anudder.”

  “Don’t any of us want yuh tuh come tuh no harm. Cept fer dat skunk Raamya an his boys maybe, and I doubt even he’d wish yuh duh kind o’ misery dat is sittin, an waitin back dere. Most of us’d rather eat our own slops dan help him and his kind agin yuh. Now you lie low and we’ll take care of everythin fer yuh.”

  With that said, Aert turned and reentered the Inn. Within moments, his youngest daughter Breisha, slipped out the door past the woodshed toward the alley. She was as silent as the gathering shadows. She stopped, offered an encouraging smile, and a wink at Rehaak hiding among the hearth logs.

  The respect the village folk had for him shocked Rehaak, but the villagers felt obligated to him for his remedies. He did not understand why they held him in such high regard that they would risk their lives to save his. Everywhere he went lately, people were risking their lives on his behalf. There was no escape from people’s devotion to him.

  In Narragansett, in the midst of abundance, everyone snatched and hoarded possessions for themselves, concerned only with their own success and prosperity. Here, on the rough edge of civilization, where everything was in short supply, acts of kindness and nurture abounded. It was perplexing.

  Rehaak was glad he had not given Drey his real name, and thankful his appearance had changed so radically. Working in the heat of the forge house, Rehaak had begun shaving and put on several pounds of muscle from hard work. Now thanks to the earlier assassination attempt; he had a striking strip of white in his hair. Rehaak supposed that anyone who did not know him well could not recognize him. He hoped the changes allowed him a margin of safety.

  Rehaak no longer doubted Laakea and Isil’s opinions about his enemies. He had angered a powerful man. That man had sent a young nobleman to find him, along with several groups of assassins. He was no longer safe here, nor was he safe anywhere, if that man’s influence extended to Baradon.

  What was happening in Baradon? Curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know what plans Drey’s Master was plotting in the Eniila homeland. He wanted, more than ever, to know what happened to Aelfric, Laakea’s father, and Voerkett, Isil’s husband. It might be worth the risk to pretend that he was Saarik and travel with Drey until he got answers.

  When he left for the village this morning, he had planned to abandon his companions, to spare them certain death at the hands of assassins. The assassins could have ended his life today if not for Aert’s intervention.

  Simple choices became life and death de
cisions, and not for himself alone. People decided every day without perceiving the danger, never knowing that their lives, and the lives of those they loved, hung on those choices. Life and death often hung on the toss of a coin.

  Previously Rehaak’s choices seemed unimportant, but many had landed him in serious trouble. When he believed that nothing depended on the outcome, Rehaak had no difficulty making decisions, but when the wrong decision could spell disaster, he dithered. Early this morning he decided to abandon his friends. Later in the morning, Drey offered him another option and he took the bait. Fortunately, he wriggled free of the hook that would have led to his demise.

  Rehaak needed more information, but for every answer, he received three more questions. The choices he had made earlier today, led him to a woodshed behind the Dancing Dog, with only one alternative. He could not risk discovery traveling with Drey. He must return to the forge and then continue looking for answers with Laakea and Isil.

  They needed information from the Scriptorium in Narragansett. Something he had read there haunted his memory like an ancient ghost. Baradon held other answers. That was certain. Drey had given him a clue, when he mentioned his Master’s trip to the Eniila homeland. Quite possibly Baradon held the answers he needed to save Aarda from the ravages of the Nethera. He had not searched Baradon for the Aetheriad. His conversation with Drey convinced Rehaak that he was looking in the wrong place.

  If Narragansett was risky, Baradon was perilous. The Eniila did not tolerate Abrhaani interlopers, but with Laakea in their party, they could pass Laakea off as a young Eniila lordling with his two Abrhaani slaves. It might work. In fact, it might be safer than getting into Narragansett.

  Chapter 31

  Eideron awoke, uneasy, bothered by his dreams. He could not remember the details, but dreams had troubled his sleep for weeks now. Something unusual was happening and Eideron wished he understood what it was. He rose as usual and prepared for his day at the Synod Council.