The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  "Good night, Sim," Farrus called out to him mockingly, waving his hand and smirking with pleasure.

  Sim cursed under his breath. He knew Farrus was on to him, and that trying to listen in on the conversation at the bar was going to be futile. Dejected, he started down the hallway towards his room. He climbed a stairway at the end of the hall that led to the top level of the inn. His bedroom was on the third floor.

  When he made it to the top, Sim was overcome by a sudden intuition; he wasn't alone. Looking down into the dark hallway, Sim realized that someone had put out all of the wall candles, creating a shroud of darkness. His room was at the very end of the hall and he was slightly relieved to see that moonlight creeping in through a window at the end of the corridor gave a soft glow outside of his room. At least I can see my door he thought to himself. He looked around discreetly for something he might brandish as a weapon, but couldn't find anything useful nearby. If there was someone waiting in the shadows, he was going to have to hope that he could overpower them.

  Trying his best to feign ignorance to the gravity of the situation, Sim entered the near pitch dark corridor. He tried at first to walk casually, hoping to create an impression that he wasn’t suspicious of an assailant, but realized after only a few steps that his actions when he first entered the hallway would have given him away already. Nerves were starting to get the better of him as he stepped gently along the creaky floor, cringing with every squeak his footsteps made. When at last he made it to his door, he considered for a moment that he was only feeling irrationally paranoid. Just as he grabbed the doorknob, sighing a breath of relief, Sim heard the familiar sound of a dagger being freed from its sheath and without a second to react, his assailant had its cold blade pressed against his neck.

  “Say one word and it will be your last, boy,” hissed an oddly feminine voice. “Get in the room. Move.”

  Sim did as he was told and followed the pushing lead of the hand on his back. He could feel the skin on his neck giving way as the knife pressed roughly against it. The lantern in his room was already lit when they entered and in the dim glow he could make out a form seated on his bed. He was led to the center of his small room when his captor kicked out the back of his legs, dropping him to the floor.

  “Who are you Siminus Kelmor?” asked a soft, gentle voice from the bed. “Who are you, really?”

  Sim squinted into the soft lighting only to realize that it was Enaya speaking to him from his bed and a quick look over his shoulder revealed the tall silent specter of her companion, Givara. For an instant, he considered his chances against the bodyguard, but noticing the strange, curved, slender sword she was holding made him hold up. Enaya’s no killer Sim thought to himself, let’s see where this goes.

  Composing himself and forcing an air of confidence, Sim met Enaya’s hypnotic eyes squarely. “You seem certain I’ve been untruthful with you my Lady, may I ask why?”

  Givara violently grabbed a handful of his dark sweaty hair, and forced his head back. Fixing him with a glare that would have stopped an army from advancing, she waved her odd sword just in front of his eyes. “Lady Relador will ask the questions here, boy, and you will do well to answer them truthfully.”

  “Enough Givara!” Lady Relador suddenly shouted, though nothing about her demeanor revealed even the slightest hint of irritation. “I will handle this.”

  Givara obeyed her liege and released Sim’s hair. Sheathing her sword, she moved toward the window and silently watched the street below Sim’s room.

  “I’m sorry for that Siminus,” Enaya said gently. “I hope you’re not hurt.”

  “Not hurt, my Lady,” Sim answered, rubbing his sore neck, “confused. I’m very confused right now.”

  “Perhaps I owe you an explanation,” Enaya sighed. She raised a hand and pointed to a small wooden chair against the far wall. To Sim’s amazement the chair slid across the floor on its own, coming to rest just beside him. “Have a seat would you, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Sim slowly climbed onto the chair, his nerves rattled by the unexpected display of magic. “Are you some kind of Sorceress?”

  Enaya laughed and shook her head. “Sorceress? Because of that? Oh no, Siminus. I’m no sorceress.”

  “Then how did you do that?” Sim asked truly startled. “I’ve read about such powers in stories, but I’ve never met anyone who could actually do something like that.”

  “Oh, I seriously doubt I’m the first trival that you’ve met. Ability with the trivarial power is not something people advertise.” Her face suddenly hardened. “Not as long as Desirmor rules the world, anyways.”

  “Who is this, Desirmor, you speak of my Lady? It was only just this afternoon that I first heard that name.” Suddenly Sim was becoming hopeful of getting some real answers.

  “Don’t you know, Siminus?” she questioned, and seeing the vacant expression on his face understood. “Well, I suppose you really are sheltered from the outside world here in Caramour. Desirmor, or King Desirmor as he is known, is the ruler of our world. He lives in the Castle Alexidus, or at least what was once known as the Castle Alexidus, in Fandrall.”

  “If he’s the ruler, then why does it seem as though you hate him?”

  Enaya couldn’t help but to erupt with laughter, as though Sim had said something completely stupid. Even Givara was chuckling from her post by the window. “Oh my poor naive, boy. Do you really believe that all men of power are good and just? Sim, Desirmor is a tyrant. He’s a vicious, evil sorcerer who gained his throne by force and rules his people by keeping them terrified by the threat of his powers. He has ruled our world for over a thousand years now.”

  “A thousand years?” Sim asked in disbelief. “How could anyone live that long?”

  Enaya sighed again and seemed to reflect for a moment. There was pain buried deep within her beautiful, compassionate eyes. “That’s a story for another day, I’m afraid. Givara and I don’t have much time tonight as there are other matters that we must attend to.” She reached out and took both of Sim’s hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs gently across the backs of his. “You said that this afternoon was the first time you had ever heard the name Desirmor. What else did you hear, Siminus?”

  It was pointless, Sim thought. If he was going to find any answers, he’d have to trust Enaya with anything he knew. Though Enaya was a complete mystery to him, he would have to accept her as an ally. “It’s all really beyond my understanding, Lady Relador,” he began thinking back on the meeting he‘d overheard in the linen closet. “This afternoon, a local guardsman came to see my father with a private matter. I overheard what I could of the conversation, but I’m afraid it didn’t make any sense to me.”

  “That’s alright, Siminus,” Enaya reassured him. With a quick knowing glance at Givara, she nodded for him to continue. “Tell us what you heard. Perhaps I may be able to understand it.”

  Sim licked his lips. “Well, Farrus said that someone, I didn’t catch a name but I’m certain it was Sarimus, told him that Desirmor had sent spies back out into the world for the first time in five hundred years.” He paused as Enaya and Givara gasped in unison. “Uh, he said he was searching for the Legacy and that the Princess must have said something to get him upset. That’s all, really. After that, they just talked about me.”

  Enaya stood up and paced the room.

  “Are you certain they said he was searching for the Legacy, Siminus?” she commanded, suddenly stopping and looking him squarely in the eye. “Did he use those exact words?”

  “Uh, yes,” Sim answered carefully. He stood up, forgetting that he was technically still their prisoner. “What does that mean, Lady Relador? What is the Legacy?”

  Enaya’s face suddenly lost its cool grace, and genuine fear glowed in her eyes. “It can’t be true, Givara! Not now. This is too soon. I’m not ready.”

  Givara came to Enaya’s side and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Even the truly wise cannot predict fate, my Lady. You knew the day I
came to your side that this time would come, and your destiny would begin to unfold.”

  Enaya smiled weakly, and then walked over to the window. “You are right of course, Givara,” she affirmed. She gazed out the window silently for a short time, then turned her attention back to Sim. “Perhaps it was fate, my friend, that we missed our transport in Teoulle. That brought us to Sarimus, who brought us to Sim, here. Perhaps this meeting was pre-ordained.”

  Enaya stood before Sim in silence, that look of mystery back on her beautiful face. She seemed to be studying him again, as though he were a puzzle to solve.

  Givara suddenly made a motion for the door and Enaya nodded with approval.

  “I’m afraid we have to leave you now, Siminus,” she called out to him as she quickly made for the door. “I wish we had more time to talk.” With that she was out of the room, hurrying along behind Givara.

  “My Lady, wait!” Sim cried, chasing her out the door. When she showed no signs of stopping he tried again desperately one more time. “There was more. I have something more to tell you.”

  The two women, now shrouded by the shadows in the long, dark hallway, came to an immediate halt. “We’re listening, boy,” Givara hissed from the darkness.

  “Well, it’s this,” Sim thought about the strange visions he had experienced in the garden and then again in the barn, “People around here seem to think I might have the foresight. Sometimes,” he explained, “I’ve been known to predict when something bad is about to happen.” He felt a little bit foolish even talking to them about his visions, let alone speaking to their silhouettes in the darkness. “This afternoon I had a vision…twice actually. I saw the sun. It was surrounded by this evil looking crimson ring. I don’t know what it means, but I’m certain something terrible will happen soon.”

  The hallway went silent for a few moments before Sim began to worry that they’d slipped away and he was left alone. He was about to call out to them, but suddenly Enaya’s soft voice came drifting down out of the darkness. “Thank you, Siminus. Goodnight.”

  Chapter Three: Sarimus Harvencott

  His mind was growing restless, as he tossed and turned in his bed some time after his encounter with Lady Relador. The hour was getting late. Sim knew he’d be in for a long day if he couldn’t manage any sleep, but the memory of Enaya’s face was haunting. Thoughts of her eyes like two mystical sapphire gems plagued his vision. Her spellbinding floral scent had saturated his linens leaving him intoxicated with fragrant reminders of her presence. Sim knew that because of their respective stations in the world, he could never dream of sharing an intimate moment with her, but lying in his bed alone in the darkness, forbidden thoughts consumed him.

  He got out of bed and got dressed. A warm glass of milk would help, he thought to himself, although a second voice in his head was demanding an ice cold bath. He stepped out into the hallway, inescapably recalling Givara’s blade at his throat and Enaya’s gentle voice whispering from the shadows. Time to clear your mind, he thought, walking carefully through the dark corridor trying his best to move silently so as not to disturb any sleeping patrons.

  When he got down to the common room, Sim was startled to hear voices. Sevin and Bella were sitting at table sipping cups of tea. They looked up with surprise as he approached them, yawning reflexively from the late hour.

  “You’re up late, Siminus,” Bella said wearily. She offered him a motherly smile. “There’s still some stew in one of the kettles if you’re hungry.”

  Sim realized that he was hungry and thanked her.

  “Something on your mind, son?” Sevin asked, rolling the mug slowly back and forth between his thick hands.

  “No, father,” Sim lied. “Just can’t sleep.”

  Sevin grunted, and waved Sim away. Just before Sim entered the kitchen, he called out.

  “Check on the stable before you head back up. See that the animals are tended.”

  Sim was in no mood to argue with his father, so without answering, he left them in the common room. The kettle by the hearth was a bit tepid. Sim wished he’d thought of eating sooner, so that the stew might have been good and hot. He grabbed a small loaf of bread and devoured the bowl he’d poured for himself in no time. Despite its lukewarm temperature, the stew was delicious, a hearty concoction of meat, potatoes and carrots. Using the bread to wipe up the excess broth in his empty bowl, Sim exhausted his appetite and sat silently alone in the darkness by the kitchen counter. His mother’s talents in the kitchen were undeniable, he thought with satisfaction.

  For awhile he stared passively out of a small window that overlooked the garden. He couldn’t help but think back on his meeting earlier with Enaya. Try as he might to concentrate on the strange subject of their talk, Sim just found his mind wandering more and more to the memory of her intense sapphire eyes. They were mesmerizing. Enaya possessed a beauty unlike any woman he had ever encountered.

  Although he was still young, Sim was no stranger to female affections. Around the city of Dell he was considered by many of the young women to be the most handsome man still unmarried. As was the custom of the people of Caramour, Sim should have been married off when he turned eighteen. Many of the men his age in Dell already had wives and children, but Sim’s parents showed no interest in arranging for his nuptials. When he’d turned eighteen, Sim had shown a fancy for a blacksmith’s daughter named Caren, who used to purposely walk by the garden everyday at noon knowing she’d see him at work. Eventually, they began sneaking into the stable for romantic interludes whenever they could get away from their chores, but when the blacksmith came to discuss terms for an arrangement, Sevin stubbornly turned him down. Caren blamed Sim for the refusal. It was an unforgivable embarrassment that she could not forget. Though Sim felt that he loved her and dearly missed her affections, he had always felt a strangely guilty sense of relief that he was still free of attachment. Someday he hoped to leave Caramour and experience the many splendors of the outside world and if he’d been married that could never become a reality. But the arrival of Enaya into his quiet inn made a sense of purpose stir up again somewhere deep inside.

  Sim was so lost in his memories of past love that he barely noticed a dark figure sneaking in a crouch past his garden. The sudden movement snapped him out of his trance, and he watched with growing alarm as the figure crept along the path to the stable, before disappearing inside. Springing from his chair, Sim’s first reaction was to tell his father. It was probably a thief looking to steal the horses, but the strange events he’d experienced throughout the day made him stop and think twice. Surely it was no coincidence to see a man sneaking around when so much secrecy had overshadowed his day. It could have been Givara carrying out some surreptitious command given to her by Enaya.

  Searching quickly around the kitchen for something to arm himself with, Sim decided on a heavy butcher’s knife. He grabbed a black riding cape that his mother kept on a hook in the doorway and then carefully crept outside. The cape provided some decent camouflage as Sim stepped silently toward the barn, keeping to the grass off the side of the pathway to silence his footsteps. He decided to check the barn's lone window first, hoping to catch a glimpse of the thief’s position inside. Below the window on the left face of the stable, Sim found a few tightly bound bales of hay and quietly stacked them until he’d formed a sturdy base on which to stand. Through the window, Sim’s vision was limited. The pane was coated with a thin film of grime, the result of years of neglect. Sim strained his eyes and managed to make out the entrance to the stable, perceptible only because a long sliver of light indicated that the door had been left slightly ajar. It was hopeless, he thought stepping down from the bales. He’d just have to take his chances that the thief wasn’t paying attention to the door, unaware that he’d been followed.

  Sim kept a firm grip on the knife as he slowly approached the large double door that led into the stable. He carefully checked the door, noting that it was only just barely open. It was going to be difficult to do thi
s quietly, he guessed, looking at the rusty hinges that tended to squeak when that door was opened or closed. Better to try the element of surprise. If he just burst in, knife swinging wildly, he might be able to take the thief off guard.

  Putting his fear in check, Sim took a deep breath, swung the door open, and dashed into the stable, slashing his knife about him as he went. Breathless and unsure when no-one attacked, he found himself alone in the middle of the barn, staring into the frightened eyes of his mare, Valla. Suddenly a spark flashed behind him and the light of a burning candle filled the space in an iridescent glow. He wheeled around defensively and found himself looking into Sarimus’ smiling face. Before he could speak, Sarimus gestured to him for silence with a finger over his lips. Then he turned and closed the stable door.

  “I told you we would talk later, did I not?” Sarimus whispered, approaching Sim while removing the hood from his head.

  A rush of adrenaline shot through his veins as he looked upon the man he considered his uncle. Perhaps he would have some answers yet. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”

  Sarimus’ smile slowly disappeared leaving a grave expression on his weather beaten face. “I’m afraid this couldn’t wait. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon as soon as my vessel is loaded.” Sarimus gestured to a bench beneath the window. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Sim didn’t argue, and sat down immediately. He put down his empty glass and turned his full attention on Sarimus.

  There was silence at first as Sarimus seemed to mull over his thoughts. “I take it you’ve spoken to Lady Relador?”

  “During dinner earlier tonight and then again in my room after you sent me to bed.” Sim half expected some kind of joke about Enaya’s visit to his room, but Sarimus was all business.

  “What did you two talk about?”

  “Nothing really. She asked me a lot of strange questions,” Sim said, watching Sarimus closely. “She seemed to think that Sevin wasn’t my father, something about him being Massoniel. Then she wanted to know about a man named Desirmor, so I told her how I’d overheard my father and Farrus talking about spies he'd sent out into the world to find some Legacy. That seemed to have upset her so she and Givara took off. That was pretty much everything.”