The Holtur Curse (The Holtur Trilogy Book 2)

by Cameron Wayne Smith

  The road veered inland and ran beside a river. That river originated from a valley that was deeply hidden by mountains. The sun lit up the lush green landscape, but it wouldn’t for long; the mountains here wouldn’t allow for long suns. In the centre of the valley was a small farm with a large building confirming the end of the road.

  “The Tavern!” Sonja called out to Volk.

  “Yeah,” he responded. “Down!”

  Sonja was more prepared for the swooping landing this time, but she still found herself gripping the frame with all she had. After landing safely she climbed from Raithia’s piloting sack, then offered Volk a worried look. “I was hoping to find the Brother’s of Eternity before we arrived.”

  “Me too,” Volk said. “I saw no sign of them. Those lurkers might have got them?”

  Sonja raised a brow. “I don’t think Caede or Crispin would be that accommodating.”

  “No, I guess not,” Volk said. He began patting down his pockets then removed a folded parchment along with a small vial of black ink. “You don’t have a quill on you, do you?”

  Sonja laughed. “No, sorry.” She plucked a thin, flat, sturdy leaf from a tree near the road and offered it. “Will this do?”

  Volk nodded, taking the leaf, dipping it into the ink, and beginning to scribble on the paper.

  They landed about a kilometre downstream from the tavern and, as far as Sonja could tell, no one seemed to worry about their presence. Generally, she knew people as kind, she just hoped these folk weren’t tainted by the Brothers of Eternity. A part of her also hoped they weren’t leeches.

  Sonja gazed into the river, chewing over the situation as Volk wrote. The water was crystal clear and shallow, floored with smooth round rocks. Thin, green reeds sprouted from around its edges. Sonja noticed bubbles creeping out from between a pair of rocks in the water, she locked eyes on the source: a crayfish. It flinched upon realising it had been noticed. Sonja fell to the ground, launching her hand towards the crustacean and plucked it from the water with ease.

  Sonja turned back to the wyverns, holding up the crayfish. “Do wyverns eat crays?” she asked, noticing the crustacean clasping its claws open and shut—the weight outside of the water hindering any efficiency.

  One of the juvies snaked over to Sonja and looked at the crayfish curiously, sniffing and snorting as it did. She dropped it to the ground, and another juvie came to inspect this new thing.

  “Flame wyverns don’t do well in water, Captain,” Volk said as he continued scribbling. “I thought that would be a given. I mean, fire and water don’t really mix.”

  “They taste good!” Sonja urged. “Cook it! Try it!”

  The two juvies looked at the grey-shelled creature. It was slowly clawing its way back to the river, and the wyverns didn’t seem to comprehend the fact it was food.

  Sonja pointed at the crayfish. “Come on, just a qui—”

  Raithia interrupted Sonja by spitting a ball of flame at the clawed critter. It lit up immediately, releasing a squeal, followed by the sizzling hiss escaping the charred shell. Shortly after, the smell of cooked crayfish crept into Sonja’s—and the wyverns’—nostrils.

  There was no longer a need to convince the wyverns it was good food. The first juvie to investigate had already grabbed it by the tail while the second one crunched down on a claw. Together they released satisfied chomps. After swallowing their snack, their eyes flickered between Sonja and the river. The other juvies also offered a newfound interest in the clawed creatures.

  “You’ve done it now,” Volk said, “and I’ve almost finished writing.”

  “They’ve had a big sun,” Sonja said. “Need to keep their energy up.”

  Sonja walked along the river bank with the ten juvies falling in line—they followed her like she was a mother duck! After spotting another crayfish, she pointed at it, expecting the closest juvie to launch at it with full aggression. Instead, it tilted its head and stared at the bubbles; they really didn’t like getting themselves wet!

  Next thing Sonja knew, she was stomping through the river catching all the crayfish she could find and throwing them ashore. The wyverns didn’t need any more convincing—and they were surprisingly orderly about it—taking turns frying and chomping down the crunchy critters with minimal squabbling.

  Sonja turned back to Volk, noticing the shocked look upon his face. “What?” She said. “Didn’t you go catching crays as a kid?”

  “Yes,” Volk responded with a single nod, “when I was a child.”

  Sonja waded back towards the shore. “Note’s written?”

  “Correct, and it’s safe and secure,” Volk said, pointing to a metal cylinder strapped to Reizexus’ harness. “Raithia knows to take it to Tequidi or Kallum—whoever they spot first—as soon as they return.”

  “Good,” Sonja said, hesitant. If they were to encounter Crispin now, just herself and Volk, they wouldn’t stand a chance. The sorbguamis armour—if it was as useful reforged as it was as carapace—would be their only hope.

  “Reizexus, go!” Volk commanded.

  The large wyvern snorted a response of smoke, then beat its powerful wings, buffeting Sonja and Volk with a blast of air. Raithia followed, then—after realising Sonja had no more crunchy, shelled treats—the juvies chased behind.

  “Alright, let’s investigate this tavern,” Sonja said.

  Volk took in a deep breath. “Let’s.”

  The path appeared vastly different when viewed from the ground; Sonja had originally thought the road and river running up to the building was flat, in truth it was anything but. Thick vegetation covered stony outcrops. Trees of varying sizes blocked out the view in every direction. The road itself was well worn, most likely from horses, but it was still a steep ascent towards the little tavern and its farm.

  The two slayers advanced quietly. A flock of reds would have alerted the farmers that something was amiss, but it was the Brothers of Eternity—and anything else that may be hungrily waiting in the forest—that had made them prefer the silent approach.

  The steep incline kept them walking for a while, and the sun’s light was now mostly blocked by the mountains to the west. Rounding another corner, the trees suddenly gave way, opening to a great clearing covered in farmland. To their left was a long green paddock, filled with plump kuhvi. On their right, rows of root vegetables were growing healthily in the soil.

  Walking towards them, down a straight road connecting the forest to the tavern, were three men. They were wrapped in modest furs, just like the townsfolk of Holtur.

  “Were you aware of a community that existed so close to Holtur?” Sonja asked.

  “None at all,” Volk responded.

  “That tavern, or so the professor called it, looks far too large—and old—for a new community.”

  “This must have been kept a secret…”

  Sonja furrowed her brows. “But how could Wilbart have known about it?”

  “Maybe these kind men can inform us?”

  “I hope so.”

  Sonja and Volk continued towards the three advancing men. They appeared strong and fit—as is the norm for farmers—but they were unarmed, which was not what Sonja had expected given the secrecy of the location.

  “Welcome to Moongate,” the man in the middle said. He reached his hand out to Volk. “My name is Tormond Portana. These are my son’s, Stren and Wren.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Volk said, shaking hands with each of the men in turn. “My name is Volk, and this is…” Volk paused, noticing none of the men offered their hand to his captain. “Sonja.” She raised a brow to Volk letting him know her disapproval.

  “We saw your wyverns fly off, do you hail from Altkruga?” Tormond queried. “It has been a long time since we had visitors from so far away.”

  “No, we are from Holtur,” Volk said.

  Tormond narrowed his eyes and stepped back at the word ‘Holtur’. He looked Sonja and Volk up and down for a moment, then asked, “Slayers?”
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  “I hope that isn’t a problem,” Volk said.

  “What are you here for?” Tormond asked, arms folded.

  Sonja sighed, folding her arms, reciprocating the defensive gesture. She quickly realised these Portanas weren’t the sort of folk that treated men and women equally, but she always obeyed the house-owners rules, even if it pissed her off.

  “A band of men, calling themselves the Brothers of Eternity, recently came through Holtur,” Volk said. “We are trying to find them.”

  “Oh those kindly men came through here earlier this sun,” Tormond said, smiling. “They were clearly weary on their venture. We broke bread with them at mid-sun. Their leader, a charismatic fellow, even donated a generous amount of gold in thanks.”

  “Caede?” Volk asked.

  “That was his name, yes,” Tormond said cheerfully.

  Volk and Sonja gave each other a worried look.

  Volk cleared his throat. “Did they didn’t harm you?”

  Tormond chuckled. “Oh no, they were harmless.”

  “That Caede, with his buddy Crispin and their army, devastated Holtur!” Sonja burst out. “And they simply shared lunch with you and moved on?”

  The three Portana men looked to Sonja with wrinkled brows of frustration.

  “My companion tells the truth,” Volk said. “They are terrible people!”

  Sonja sighed. She’d been demoted from captain to companion now.

  “Perhaps these men simply respond to how they are received?” Tormond suggested. “The slayers of Holtur aren’t known to be the most hospitable towards outsiders.”

  “We show caution,” Volk said. “It is our job to protect Holtur, not make people feel warm and fuzzy inside.”

  Tormond smiled. “I suppose you do have a point. Nothing attacks Moongate, so we generally don’t worry. I hope neither you, nor the Brothers of Eternity, are the exception.”

  “There would be nothing to gain in attacking you or your people,” Volk said confidently. “Besides, slayers are defenders of the people, not attackers of the innocent!”

  Tormond nodded. “Perhaps we thought incorrectly of your people.” He looked to the mountains to the west, now blocking the final rays of sunlight. “It is late. I am sure you are exhausted. We have spare rooms and would be honoured to host you until next sun.”

  “Even with my companion?” Volk asked.

  “Of course,” Tormond said, then widened his eyes as though remembering something. “My apologies, miss, but here at Moongate the only women a man may touch are his wives.” His eyes refused to meet with Sonja’s. “It has been a long time since an adult, female, human outsider has visited. You will be required to sleep in the women's guest room and eat at the women's table. If this is acceptable, you may stay.”

  Sonja nodded. “I appreciate the offer,” she said, fighting off the urge to sound sarcastic.

  ***

  The Moongate Tavern—if it could be called a tavern—was far larger than Sonja assumed from Wilbart’s final words. It even made the Wounded Wyvern feel small in comparison! The stone structure was as large as a residential block in Holtur and at least five stories high.

  Tormond opened the great, timber doors that brought them from the farm to a long, bright, decorated dining hall. An impressive hearth at the far end of the building was being tended to by four women, all dressed in light white and brown clothes—indicating they mustn’t spend much time outside. The clothing was also oppressingly conservative. It wrapped all the way along the limbs and neck; the only skin that was visible on the women were hands and the face from the chin up.

  Along the two walls running the length of the hall were a pair of offset hearths, these dwarfed even the massive one at the end. The larger hearths appeared to be only used for warmth, not cooking. If using the single hearth was enough to feed the residents, she was dumbfounded as to how many visitors would be required to use the other two. While the extreme role prejudice annoyed her, Sonja found the pleasant smells of meat, vegetables, and spices somewhat comforting. If anything, she knew she was in for a good feed!

  Four tables stretched the length of the hall. Golden, regal chairs covered in ornamental filigree, that mimicked plants and flowers, lined with soft, red cushions sat at the heads of the tables. Long, wooden bench seats ran along the rest of the table.

  “Welcome to Moongate Hall,” Tormond proudly said, waving his hands into the lavish room.

  “Impressive!” Sonja confessed.

  “How many people can you host here?” Volk asked.

  “Many!” Tormond chuckled. “I’ve never seen it at full capacity, but it is in our nature to be over-prepared. The inability to comfortably host a guest would be quite embarrassing.”

  Volk’s freckles lit up. “I suppose so!”

  “We shall dine at first moon.” Tormond turned to one of his sons. “Wren, show Volk to his chambers.”

  “Yes, father,” Wren said with a compliant nod. “Right this way.”

  “I’ll see you at first moon,” Volk said. He waved to Sonja, then disappeared behind Wren into a corridor on the western side of the hall.

  Two women of similar age to Tormond approached. While still well covered up, they weren’t dressed the same as the other women. One wore a vibrant, lime-green dress that was decorated with yellow floral patterns. Around her neck was numerous gold chains, along her arms slinked a collection of golden rings. The other wore a red dress with orange flame patterns. She also adorned plenty of jewellery, but hers was chunky and silver. Both had stunning figures—slim yet curvaceous—that defied their age.

  “These are two of my wives. Oddette,” Tormond said, gesturing to the woman in green. “And Genivee.” His hand rested on the shoulder of the woman in red. “If you have any queries for the remainder of your stay, please speak with them.”

  Sonja nodded.

  Tormond smiled. “Oddette, show our guest, Sonja, to her room. I expect her stay to be as comfortable as any other guest.”

  “Yes, my love,” the lady in green said, bowing her head subserviently. “Come, this way, dear.”

  Sonja nodded and followed, listening to Tormond talk to his other wife. “Genivee, how is Isa coping?” he asked.

  “Not all that well. She may need to be released,” said Genivee.

  “Damned woman!” Tormond cursed quietly under his breath, but it wasn’t too hard for Sonja to make out. Walking into a hallway on the eastern side, Sonja focused harder, but she couldn’t make out what he said next.

  “So?” Oddette asked. She held a controlled expression, her eyelids sat lazily and partially closed. Sonja noticed she had just as many freckles as Volk, if not more. Her hair was just as fiery as his too, but it flowed straight and smooth with a single grey streak running down her left side. “Are you mute, my dear?”

  “Ugh…” Sonja wiped her eyes. Oddette had asked her something, but she was too busy trying to listen to Tormond. Something about that man just didn’t feel right. “It’s been a long trip, I’m a bit exhausted.”

  “Ah, so you are not mute and you would like some rest,” Oddette said. “Do not stress, and do not worry about my husband. We may seem a little odd out here—believe me, it took years for me to grow comfortable with it—but we are a noble people working for an important cause.”

  “An important cause?” Sonja asked.

  Oddette hesitated. “All will be clear shortly, my dear." She stopped and turned back to Sonja, gesturing to a door. “I will summon one of Stren’s wives to ready you a bath. Relax, and I shall summon you at first moon.”

  “First moon,” Sonja repeated. “I’ll see you then.”

  Walking into the room was somewhat depressing. There were no windows, and the only light on offer came from a candelabra on a table. Beside the table was a single bed. An adjacent room had a bath—that a wife-servant would shortly fill—and a drain. Sonja thought the patriarchy was quite odd, but it was obviously paired with a compatible matriarchy as well. Sonja wasn’t the
most knowledgeable person on the varying cultures of the world, but something felt off about this whole set up; it was just too much. And who was this ‘Isa’ that Tormond spoke of? What did releasing her mean?

  It didn’t take long for a knock to come to the room’s door. Sonja opened the door to see a pair of women, each carrying two buckets of steaming hot water.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Sonja,” the older of the two said. They entered the room and poured the water into the bath.

  “You too,” Sonja responded. “Tell me, what is it like living here?”

  “It is a gift,” the older one said, smiling. “Our lives are simple. We work hard, but we are given everything we need, along with most the things we want.”

  Sonja folded her arms. “Really?”

  “It truly is glorious,” said the younger woman.

  Sonja had seen women behaving this way out of fear, though she didn’t sense such emotion coming from these two women. They truly seemed grateful for what they have. “If anyone is hurting you, I can make it stop,” she said, just in case. “I’m a slayer of Holtur.”

  The older of the two raced over to Sonja and grasped her by the shoulders. “Please, miss,” she said, her eyes intently focusing on Sonja’s. “We don’t want any violence here. Moongate is a place of love and peace. Keep your battles away from here.” She then grabbed her empty buckets and walked out the door with the younger woman following.

  “Do you need any more water?” the younger woman asked.

  Sonja looked to the bath, it seemed adequate and she didn’t want to impose. “It’s fine, thank you, but… can you talk with me for a moment?”

  The woman nodded.

  Sonja cleared her throat then asked, “What can you tell me about Isa?”

  “You met her?” the woman asked, her face drooped as she spoke. “Poor Isa…”

  “What is wrong with her?”

  “Nothing… Isa is just having difficulties adjusting. It happens, sometimes. I hope she works through it, she is a lovely woman.”

  Sonja joined in with the frowning. “Adjusts?”

  “Life here in Moongate is different,” the woman said. “I can tell you don’t agree with our customs. Not that you even know them, really. We aren’t bad, just different.”