The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

A black liquid, like oil, started to bubble up from the ground where the wood had sunk. Within moments it formed a pool, filling the whole divot, and then spilling over the edges to reach out into the surrounding sand like the thin graceful bodies of several black serpents.

  Maehril pushed away rising to her feet. Bella sat frozen in place, still whispering as though Maehril had never moved. In the distance a woman appeared, beautiful and dressed in the purest of white. Maehril pointed to the woman, imploring her mother to look, but Bella didn’t move. The liquid began to surround Bella’s feet. Maehril reached for her mother, to try to pull her away, but her hands passed through her mother as though Bella were merely an apparition.

  Maehril looked again at the woman in white. Two men stood beside her, one familiar, one unknown. As her mother was swallowed up in the black liquid, dissolving like ash into the growing pool, Maehril started to run. She ran toward the woman and the two men, feeling as though her only hope, her only true salvation lie with them. Behind her, at her feet, she felt the liquid following, giving chase close behind, though never quite catching up. One of the men, the familiar one, opened his arms as she drew close, beckoning her on. Just as the liquid seemed about to reach out and pull her back, Maehril dove into his arms…

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  Maehril’s eyes slowly shuttered and blinked. She felt a pair of bony arms wrapped around her, but her vision was too blurry. Excited shouts rang out all around. At least one of the voices was familiar. As her eyes rounded into focus on Cano’s weeping, joyful face, Maehril smiled. The old treasure hunter, with his long hawkish nose and sky blue eyes was sobbing and uttering unintellible sounds, as his gnarled bony fingers caressed her head.

  Maehril wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. She didn’t know why he was so happy, but it seemed right to her to feel as if they’d been reunited.

  A boy about her age sat on the bed behind Cano. He was very homely looking. His head was round and large, and his face was covered in acne. His wide grin showed a few missing teeth, and the ones that were left in his mouth had long since lost their whiteness. Still there was something endearing about him. He had big blue eyes that looked gentle and kind, and the way he was built, with wide thick shoulders and a big sturdy mid-section, reminded her of Sevin. She was certain that they had never met, yet the way he looked at her made it seem as if they knew each other.

  “Oh my dear girl, are ya alright? How do ya feel?” Cano asked, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Maehril looked around and shrugged. She felt fine. They were in a beautiful bedroom, with satin drapes, fine carpeting, meticulously crafted furniture and gilded lattice adorning most of the walls. An elderly man sat in a chair next to her bed, and a middle-aged woman, dressed like a servant stood in the doorway. What had happened? A moment ago she had been running from something on a beach. Had Bella been there? The more she thought about where she had been the harder it became to remember. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands; it was there but she couldn’t hold on to it.

  “Look at me girl. What happened to ya? I’ve been worried sick,” Cano said, wiping at his nose, not caring at all that the snot was now covering his bare arm.

  Maehril made a face. He knew she couldn’t speak. Did he expect her to start answering his questions?

  “Harriet, would you bring us a quill and parchment, please?” the elderly man asked the servant in the doorway. She quickly hurried off. “Maehril, my name is Yennit, and this is my home.”

  Maehril liked the kind smile and calm way with which Yennit comported himself. He held out his hand for her, and she took it. Yennit gave her hand a good squeeze, and she smiled at him with delight.

  “This young fella here is Jerron,” Cano told her, motioning with a thumb over his shoulder to the blue-eyed boy sitting behind him with an abashed expression on his face. Maehril smiled at him shyly and his cheeks turned bright red.

  “You’ve been asleep for a few days now, Maehril,” Yennit told her. He spoke with the slow methodical enunciation of an elderly educated man. “Cano here came to me for help in waking you up. He’s been worried sick about you, I’m afraid.”

  Maehril turned a distraught eye on her friend. Had she really been asleep so long? Cano shot Yennit a disgruntled glance then looked away. “Well someone has to look out fer ya. Don’t they?” he said looking around embarrassed.

  Harriet returned carrying several sheets of parchment, an inkwell and a quill. There was a small writing desk, fit for a child, in the corner of the room. Harriet dragged the desk over to the bed so that Maehril could write from where she was seated. She set everything up and stepped away, removing herself from the room to wait outside until she was needed again.

  Maehril swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Even though they had told her she had been asleep for several days, she felt as strong and energetic as she’d ever felt in her life. She leaned forward and picked up the quill, dipping it in the ink, then waiting for them to ask her something. She looked around at the three men. Each seemed reluctant, looking at one another for someone to start.

  Cano piped up first. “What’s the last thing ya remember?”

  Maehril shrugged, thinking back. The memory of leaving Dell, trekking across the beach, and meeting Cano came to her. They got on a boat the next day, and Cano made a dive. She remembered being very worried about him, then scared, so scared. She tried to remember what had made her so frightened but could not. The last thing she could recall was Cano bursting out of the water and climbing back on the boat. She wrote that down, and the three of them quietly considered her words.

  “Do ya remember the black stuff that came out of the water? Any of that?” Cano asked, confused. When Maehril shook her head no, Cano looked to Yennit to lead the way.

  “You’re a young girl, Maehril, where are your parents?” he asked in a calm voice.

  “They were killed by the Blood Lord.” she wrote.

  Yennit read it aloud and nodded grimly. There was a certain level of pity in the way his old gray eyes regarded her. “I’m terribly sorry, my dear. Terribly sorry,” he said quietly.

  “Are you the Creator?” Jerron blurted out suddenly. Yennit and Cano each shot him an angry look. He flipped his palms up and said, “Well someone had to ask her.”

  Maehril looked around in confusion. She could tell that Yennit and Cano didn’t find the question appropriate, but they were watching her now, waiting for an answer. Why would they think she was the Creator? “No,” she wrote, making a face at Jerron to tell him the question was utterly foolish.

  Cano seemed to be the most disappointed when they read it. He scratched his head, and mumbled something to himself.

  “Why can’t you talk?” Jerron asked, unfazed by the minor reprimand he’d received for his last foolish question.

  Maehril furrowed her brow and looked him right in the eye. His eyes were opened wide with wonderment as though he were in a state of total fascination. There was a certain bumbling naiveté about him. She wasn’t sure if he was stupid or just voraciously curious. “I don’t know,” she wrote.

  “Maehril, if it's not too painful for you, do you know why the Blood Lord killed your parents?” Yennit asked carefully.

  Maehril didn’t know if she should answer the question. Sevin and Bella had schooled her in the need for secrecy. She and Sim were the center of a prophecy to end the darkness that held the world. Danger was a constant in her life. The events in Dell had proven that much. The voice had led her to Cano and she knew that she could trust him. Yennit and Jerron however, she didn’t know. The voice had said nothing to her about them and revealing too much of her secret could put her in more danger. She tried to search within, listening for the voice to advise her, but she heard nothing. If she was going to make it to the end, she had to find people who could help her. Cano was very sweet, but she doubted that he alone would be enough to face the perils a
head. She took a deep breath and began to write.

  “My name is Maehril Harvencott. I am the daughter of the last Harven. My brother and I are at the center of the Prophecies of Harmony Alexidus. The Blood Lord was sent to kill my father, Sarimus. In doing so, my brother and I escaped but were separated. I am not certain that my existence is known to Desirmor. I need your help.”

  Yennit gasped audibly when he read her words. Cano’s sky blue eyes gazed sadly upon her. He took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze. Jerron appeared too astonished to speak. Beads of sweat began to break out on his pimply forehead, and there was a blank stare of baffled startlement etched across his face like an engraving.

  “By the heavens,” Yennit breathed. The grip he had on his lacquered cane was vise-like. “Do you two fools know who this girl is?” he asked aghast. Cano and Jerron stared at him blankly. Maehril felt relieved that Cano and Jerron appeared oblivious to the seriousness of her existence. They were innocents, and that meant she could trust them. Yennit was another matter. “I told you earlier about the Harvens and your dagger, remember?” When Cano nodded impatiently he continued. “She is the catalyst of the prophecies. The one who can restore balance to the world. This young girl is destined to bring about the end of darkness. She and her brother will harken the death of Desirmor. I think in a way you were right, my old friend. She very well may be the light made flesh. Not the Creator of course, but an instrument of light.”

  Silence captured the room. Maehril watched Cano squarely. Deep within she was worried that he might change his mind about her. Perhaps he would see her as a burden and abandon her for an easier path in life. She had only truly known him for a day, but in that short time, she had become very fond of him. In a strange way, she felt like he was important.

  “Is that why there are so many rovers out there?” Jerron asked, staring unblinkingly at Maehril.

  “Aye lad. I told ya as much,” Cano answered. His hands still held hers in a gentle, fatherly way. “That’s the trouble with light, ya see. Darkness is never far away.”

  “Very true, Cano,” Yennit sighed. “Maehril I’m afraid you’ve awoken to a dire predicament. Several hours ago creatures began lining up around the perimeter of my estate. Rovers as Jerron said. They’re nasty beasts. So far they haven’t tried to attack but if they do, we’re in trouble. I don’t have the manpower to hold them off. If what you’ve told us about yourself is true, then I believe Cano here is right - they’ve come for you. I promise you, Maehril, that we’ll do everything we can to keep you safe, but we’re greatly outnumbered, and most of the men out there holding weapons are farmers. In truth I’ve only a handful of experienced soldiers on the estate.”

  Cano smiled at her bravely. “Don’t ya worry now girl. I’ll fight to protect ya. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll protect ya.”

  “And so will I,” Jerron said, standing up and punching a determined fist into his opposite open hand. He looked around at Yennit and Cano and spoke with a passionate bravado. “I know it looks bad out there, but it looked bad for me and Cano too. We weren’t supposed to take down a whole nest of shraels, remember. But we did. By the grace of the Creator, we got the fruit and made it back. If we have to fight, well, so be it then. Let the rovers come. I think I know a way to even out the odds anyway.”

  Cano and Yennit each looked him over skeptically. Maehril was worried about their current circumstances, though she had no idea what a rover was. If it was anything like one of those nasty borlicon she had witnessed back in Dell, then she had reason to feel terrified. But Jerron was inspiring. Maybe it was all hopelessness, but the way his blue eyes burned with such confident intensity made her believe.

  There was so much about him that initiated comparisons to Sevin. Like the way he was built, so thick through the shoulders, yet soft in the middle. Sevin had also had an ardent nature to the way he spoke. His eyes used to alight with the same unbridled enthusiasm when he committed himself to an idea or a cause.

  Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, the voice suddenly spoke. Maehril drew herself inward and listened as Cano and Yennit listened to Jerron’s plan. The voice was distant, but the words were clear. Maehril stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the expanse of Yennit's estate. The instructions terrified her, but Bella had warned her long ago that whether she liked it or not, destiny would come calling. Today, her first true test would begin.

  Chapter Seventeen: Taking a side

  “Where is your brother, Maehril?” Yennit asked.

  They were alone in the room now, in front of the window surveying the land below as the sun dropped ever closer to the horizon. Nightfall was barely an hour away, and the scene around Yennit’s estate was tense and frantic.

  Jerron, for all of his youthful country simplicity, had given some intelligent suggestions for the estate’s defense. His first idea was that they needed to bring the attack. The estate had a healthy supply of bows and arrows, since hunting deer and wild boar was a pastime enjoyed by virtually all of the men who worked the grounds. They would take advantage of that strength, setting up archers at balconies and rooftops, all around the manor, and start firing when everyone was in position. If it made the rovers advance, then so be it. They would come eventually, Jerron had reasoned, so why wait for them to make the first move.

  His second idea was to divide some of the fruit to give to soldiers on foot. They had brought back fifteen of the small yellow fruits from their trip to the shrael’s cave. Several of the fruits had been cut up and fed to men with hand to hand combat experience to enhance their strength and resilience. The rest had been kept aside to be fed to any wounded.

  At Yennit’s command Mueller had put Jerron’s suggestions into effect, and the scene outside showed its enforcement. Archers stood on the roofs of the stable, the dairy barn, the meathouse, and chicken coup. There were balconies along the manor with bowmen waiting for the order to shoot. Maehril could see a few scattered guardsmen walking out across the rolling fields carrying bows and swords. The plan was for the small contingent of soldiers on foot to get within shooting distance of the rovers and fire off some test shots.

  The women had been sequestered into several of the rooms on the top floor of the manor house. Maehril and Yennit were supposed to join them, but they had remained in his granddaughter’s room instead. With Cano and Jerron off lending a hand preparing for the fight, Yennit was taking the opportunity to speak with her privately.

  Maehril felt that Yennit was trustworthy. He was terribly kind and polite with a calm and gentle demeanor. Maehril knew that her presence at his home was endangering the lives of everyone who worked and lived on his estate. It was a heavy burden to carry, and in some measure she felt that she owed the kindly old man a debt. To repay that debt she would do her best to give him her trust.

  Turning from the window, she went to the desk and picked up the quill. The truth was that she had no idea what had happened to Sim. She knew only that he had escaped from Dell with Lady Relador and her mysterious guardian, Givara. The voice had encouraged her to have faith that Sim would be fine, and that soon enough, their paths would cross again. Maehril knew the voice was right. To fulfill the prophecy, Sim needed Maehril. There were too many things they each needed to do that involved each other. She would see him again, but for now, she could only hope that he was safe.

  “We were separated in Del,” she wrote.

  “I see. How much do you know about your role in the prophecy? And his, for that matter?” he asked.

  “Our parents prepared me for the road ahead. Sim was kept sheltered. He knows very little.”

  “You said the Blood Lord killed your father? How was he discovered?”

  “I don’t know. Sarimus seemed to know the end was coming. That’s why he came back to Dell to see us.”

  “I’ve read parts of the prophecy Maehril. Your brother I must assume is the “Forgotten” and the “Last Child of the Mountain”, but I’m afraid I have never come acros
s an interpretation of a sister. Do you know what your role is?”

  “I am the “Silence”. Time will reveal my role.”

  “The Silence?” Yennit asked, thinking out loud. “I remember a few references to silence, but I never thought they alluded to a person. Perhaps there is much that has been missed in interpreting the many vagaries contained within the prophecy.” Yennit exhaled loudly and shook his head. “I have made studying the lost history of the Harvens my life’s work. To sit with you and talk is perhaps the most surreal experience of my very long life.” He laughed softly to himself. “You are a legend, my dear. A living, breathing legend. I’m grateful to have made your acquaintance.”

  Maehril smiled warmly. She was about to write down a gracious reply when she heard shouting coming from below. Mueller was giving the first command to attack.

  She went to the window and looked out with Yennit taking his place beside her. Though twilight was drawing closer, there was enough light to see all the way to the tree line. From their vantage, they could see four guardsmen, dressed for battle in chain mail and iron helmets, drawing their bowstrings, aimed at rovers crouching perhaps a hundred feet away. The arrows released and a heartbeat later, four rovers dropped with arrows implanted in their breasts. The sudden assault caused a stir amongst the rest of the creatures. In unsettling unison, the rovers rose from their crouches and stood ready to attack. The guardsmen quickly reloaded and released a second volley. The plan was to fire off as many arrows as they could and run for it once the rovers made their move. The archers on the roofs and balconies would provide air support once the guards had retreated far enough.

  The second volley took down four more rovers. Maehril knew there were about fifteen men out there so if all was well, the rover’s numbers would have been cut by thirty. The second round of arrows provoked the attack. Simultaneously, the rovers advanced, moving like a perfectly choreographed troupe of dancers, every movement equal, as they tore across the hills toward the manor house. The guardsmen ran for their lives, sprinting with abandon toward the safe zone of the archers range. The rovers gained ground quickly, their advance appearing like a large black ring shrinking by fluid increments as they descended on the house.