The man blinked repeatedly and then said, "But it is. The Legion has spoken, and well, the Grand Protectorate has made it a crime for many generations. You must not be from around any part of the world not to know that."
"You could say we have been, well, away," Garoa said.
Sviska stooped and picked up the man's pack, handing it to him after a quick, unrevealing glance inside.
"My name is Sviska, and this is Berie, Garoa, and Slats. We were traveling east when the storm took us. We had about a day of journeying before we reached our destination."
"Oh, then you travel to the village of Kersa, or perhaps to the ruin of Srun, gathering place of the Chieftains?"
"We do not know of this ruin or Kersa. We do seek these islands. Are you one of these Chieftains?"
"Why, no. I make stew. Well, herb stew. Okay, mostly I make herbal salves for the fishers who go out in the cold, but I can also make stew. I was gathering supplies along the shore when the storm rolled in. I took shelter here overnight. I will be journeying back soon if you wish to follow me, and if I haven’t said it yet, the name is Euso."
Euso reached out his hand as if to shake, but before Sviska could shake, he pulled his hand back and bowed with his head. This continued until each had bowed in turn. Euso threw his pack over his shoulder.
"Are we ready, then?"
Garoa pulled out his silver pipe and blew three times, followed by a long blow.
"I am," he said, and winked at Sviska.
Off in the distance, his dragons took to the sky with the plan to follow from above and out of sight to most who might have glanced in their direction.
Sviska shook his head to Euso and motioned for the others to follow. Berie went to Sviska, looking over her shoulder as the others began to walk.
"How do we know to trust him? He is a random man who we know of only because he says what he does."
"And how else should we know of him?"
She stopped, inhaled and exhaled slowly, then said, "I am to protect that book, as are you. If the Order or Legion of the Grand Protectorate, or whatever it might be that should threaten us, should find us due to him . . ."
"Then we will protect it as we would in any unfortunate happening. At least walking in with a common man will look better than sailing in on a random ship that I am sure a fishing community will see as not one of their own."
"Brethor would seek solitude and hide away."
"And that is what he did when it was appropriate. That is the past."
Berie closed her eyes and turned away.
"I mean him nor you any disrespect,” Sviska said, “but Brethor knew what he was doing when he sent the book away. Simply hiding and hoping they would not find it would no longer work. Now you can rest assured they will be searching for us. You can take some comfort in the fact that at least this man seems to work outside the wishes of the Grand Protectorate and thus the Order. He is all we have right now, Berie. No one else is to give us comfort. Brethor is dead."
Berie shook her head and was silent. She swung her bow over her shoulder and jogged to catch up with the others. Sviska rolled his tongue and bit it. Perhaps he could have chosen different words.
Chapter 2 Of Herbs and Kidnapping
The journey from the ruins was on a path that climbed up and down sparse grasses and dense rocks. The water that trickled around them in small creeks crested with ice along the edges. From the wind that sped off the sea and blew through the travelers came the only other sound. No birds flew in this region, and there was little else to see other than occasional rising of boulders in the fields cresting the horizon.
"Desolate area," Sviska said.
Euso nodded and said, "Of course. Nothing has been in this area since the fall of the old kingdoms of the islands. There are ruins here and there, but most are home to rather unpleasant creatures. I have found myself using them on more than one occasion to hide from Legion patrols, but in the colder months, they normally prefer their own fire pits and send out others to search the area. But the others couldn’t care less of the Legion, and simply go for a walk. The Legion have been increasingly harsh as of late, and the few who may still hold them in any regard besides vain keep quiet. I myself do not like them. They burned my storehouse about a year ago, stating that I was dabbling in magic. Quite strange to me, as I do not have magic. I am an apothecary. I mix herbs and water, brew teas, smoke a bit of dried grass from time to time.”
"I shall have to try a bit of your dried grass,” interrupted Slats. "My pipe has been cold as of late, and that isn't because of this snow! I would love to have some."
Sviska thumped Slats on the back, and dwarf cringed.
"What?"
"I would be happy to share some with you, Slats," Euso said, "but do I dare ask what the likes of you four are doing in this region? Though I appreciate you not gutting me earlier, your weapons are, how do you say it, odd?"
Garoa glanced at the others. Having no actual weapon, he tilted his head and sent a gesture toward the others. Sviska knew someone had to say something. Before he could start, Berie spoke up.
"We are travelers paying homage to the old ways. In respect of the lives that were lost in the past wars."
Sviska looked to her and shook his head. The elf continued looking forward, avoiding his glance.
"No war in these parts in quite some time, except the fall of the kingdoms of the islands. But I think I mentioned those before."
Slats stopped and bent down, picking a yellow berry from beside the path. He was just about to pop it into his mouth when Euso looked back.
"Don't eat those, dear sir. You will find the taste to be tart, and the fact of a locked jaw is not a good time."
He dropped the berry and brushed his hand on his beard. Looking down, he saw a different type, bunched in a group of red nodules. He picked it up, tearing one of them off and smelling its sweet aroma. He was about to eat it when Euso stopped him again.
"Not that one either. That one you will just be sick. Not a good meal for the hungry."
"Is your village much further?" Slats asked, the rumblings of his stomach remaining unsatisfied from the lack of edible food on the path.
"It is close. As close as the village of Kersa to the ruins of Srun."
"Forgive us that we do not know the distance," Garoa stated, his tone low and stoic, for hunger also had found its way to him.
"The journey to the village of Kersa is but a few hours’ more walk. You have found yourself wrecked on the outer island of the Clan of Five Islands. Each island acts as its own ruling region. You can reach the islands by boat with ease, but we tend to keep to ourselves.
On the mainland, there are the most majestic ruins. Twice a year all the Chieftains meet and talk of legal things and disputes over supplies. They meet typically before winter and then again at the first turn of frost to green in the mainland region. It was here the capital city of the old kingdom sat. Now there is but the keep that remains, set within the ruined citadel. Upon the commencement of the council, they light the torch towers along the remains of the curtain walls of the ruins. For many nights they continue, until at last they disperse and each tribe takes to assigned duties."
"Sounds as if your people have a peaceful existence up here."
The man gulped. "Peace within us, yes. Now, at least. There were disputes and times where as village apothecary, I patched more than a few injured people and presided over the death of many more, but the Legion, they are the ones we worry of now."
Coming up the crest of another rock-strewn hill, the sight of civilization became apparent in the far distance. Well-traveled ruts in the ground marked a road that ran north and south down the island. From the northern way of the city, it stretched past them and down toward the mainland. They had started down the road when they heard a cart coming from behind them.
A two-horse-drawn cart rattled down the road with a single driver atop it. The cart had stacks of sacks, but was in quite a hurry. Behind them, there w
ere three horsemen garbed in large hooded robes. As they drew closer, Euso, as well as the others, cleared the road as the cart continued on, the man snapping the reins as they passed. The cart was followed by two horsemen as the third came to a slow gallop before stopping just in front of them.
Sviska's hand slipped down to his dagger. Berie had hidden her bow as they walked, but now she felt for its arm, turning her foot sideways as she leaned back.
"Chieftain Knasgriff, a good morning it is to you, sir," Euso said, bowing as the man dismounted.
"You are well, Euso?” he asked, stepping around the front of his horse.
Sviska noticed the man was now resting his hand on a sword, hidden by baggage and otherwise out of view, unless one was to follow the baggage downward toward a jeweled scabbard that was just visible
"Why yes, I am. The storm last night stranded these people, and they seek assistance. They were heading east when it blew them off course. They sought our islands, perhaps even the meeting of the Chieftains at Srun."
"And why would they seek that? Have you not heard we have been unable to convene for months? The Legion have sought that place for a while for no other reason but to defile it. Now I am off in the night, more kidnappings of the sparse villages of the south, and the Legion claims nothing has happened. Now I have these strangers walking my land as injured are rushed to my town, only to find my apothecary with these strangers. Perhaps the Legion tells the truth, and it has been my apothecary who has been fooled? My duties had taken me away from the village late in the night, and with my suspicion of strangers, it is an uncomfortable inconvenience finding you people here.”
"We mean you no harm," assured Slats.
"Is that true, wee man? Your axe has not spilled blood this night?"
Slats looked at the tissue still within the articulation of the head. "That is old."
"The fact that he has not struck you down should give you a clear reason not to harm us. It seems you are already dealing with an issue with the Legion," Garoa said. “We have similar problems, so therefore we are friends.”
"Well-chosen words. I am not with the Legion, as are none who inhabit our islands, though not all will say it. The kidnappings in the night have become more numerous than the public ones. For the last month, it has not been just fish the Legion stole away from us. My spies near Lokam tell me the First Legion marched with a great smog over them more than twelve days ago. What doom they sought I can only guess, but the storms over the last three nights have been the most horrible in all my many years."
"We are no friend to the Grand Protectorate or their Legion," Sviska said. "That should give you some comfort."
"Comfort or not, that is to be decided. You have shown no violence to me thus far, and so I will escort you to the village. But publicly stating that you are no friend to the Legion is not something I advise you to do. Though most feel disdain toward them, I will not allow you to bring further suffering to my people. The Grand Protectorate has even more spies than I, and some of those I know are not natural."
Knasgriff looked to the skies and then mounted his horse, taking hold of the reins and clicking his horse forward.
"Come, we shall get you something to eat. And take care to hide that dagger and axe—weapons are not allowed within the village, especially if the Legion comes through."
Sviska pushed his scabbard around his side, and Slats removed his robes before slinging his axe's strap over his shoulder and covering back up.
"I did not catch your names,” Knasgriff said.
"Sviska."
"Garoa."
"Slats."
"And who are you, my lady?"
The elf began to walk faster ahead of the others. She turned, looking back and up to Knasgriff, and stated, "Berie, and do not refer to me as your own possession.”
"I meant no disrespect by it, Berie. It is a custom of our lands to treat women as such. The words are meant to be of respect."
"Careful with that one, Chieftain," Garoa said. "She is not the type to be treated as your custom might have it."
They began to walk at a quickened pace, the trot of the horse added to the lack of other sounds as they drew closer to the village.
"I find it strange you would take a path from the seas to this place. There is not in the way of many civilized places far west," Knasgriff commented.
"You are correct, and now there is one less, thanks to the Legion," said Sviska.
"I am interested to hear of your journey and offer what assistance I may, but as you can guess, things are not as we would like in our lands."
Slats stretched and moaned, and then said, “A warm bit of food and a smoke will do me well for now."
Euso laughed. "It seems we have something in common, you and I. I can for sure provide the one as soon as we get to my home."
They made it to the outskirts of the village. From the road, a single path went past wooden palisades interlaced with stone pillars. The entire structure of an outer wall and village seemed built off the ground with earthen mounds supporting underneath. Metal gates at the water level gave passage to fishing ships to the docks underneath. The docks were also a place where ships could be anchored in the event of a storm, a place of importance to the island.
Yellow banners flew atop the gatehouse of iron and adorned wood, shaped like bears. Two men with short swords girded to their waists opened the doors.
Knasgriff looked to the guards, nodding. "We as Chieftains are not denied guards for our city; however, the formation of an army, even as to offer support to the Legion, is not allowed," he said.
As they passed the gateway, the city before them lay sprawled up hills of earth and random stones. A path made of wood twisted upward toward a stone tower that reached out above the village.
Euso turned to them and said, "I must attend to the injured who were brought. You will be well with the Chieftain."
He began away when Slats stepped forward after him and asked, "I am interested in your skills as a healer. May I join you?"
Euso paused and looked upward to Knasgriff.
"You trusted them enough to bring them this far. If you believe them in what they say, make your choice," he said, dismounting from his horse.
The apothecary nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "Let us go. We will stop by my house afterward for some pipe herbs."
Slats and Euso headed down a plank walkway and to the foot of the center stone pillar that made up the base of the city. Passing through a cloth-covered hole, they were gone.
Knasgriff gave his horse to an attendant and led the others up the winding path that led to the upper levels of the village.
Walking past the people, it was clear that this was a fishing community. Baskets of different fish, clams, and other odd sea life were stacked all around the stock houses and shops. Below them, the waters of the surrounding seas licked the base of the central structure. Water-level docks bustled with ships bringing in their catch, and in more than one spot, there were shouts and bellows as people scurried with supplies on and off the ships.
The fishing ships were large and long, and with curved sails, they were strong enough to withstand the battering waves of the seas, as well as haul their catch back to the city. The lower industrial-like region of the lower city gave way to the mid-level housing district. Children played in the street; their dirty faces and simple brown clothing did not dampen the spirit of even the youngest ones, who were held tightly as the Chieftain and "strangers" passed.
Every few doors, an unnerving glare or person cowering away met the glance of Sviska. In all his travels, he had not happened upon this place nor one where the people were so desolate. Sviska’s group began up a larger ramp.
"It seems your people do not trust us," he said.
"And well they are not to,” Knasgriff answered. “The Legion were the last strangers to come here. Since they came, their demands for fish have become so insatiable that we are no longer able to keep up with their wishes. Taxes from the Grand P
rotectorate have went up, and now I am lucky I even have the boots on my feet!"
Garoa fell back from his place near Knasgriff. "Sviska, the Grand Protectorate, is it the same as the Order?" he whispered.
"Yes," Knasgriff replied to the surprise of both of them. "Do not speak of that again while outside."
Berie’s cautious eyes turned to Sviska, and he sighed.
They came to the third level, where intersecting plank walkways ran the length of the city. Around them, the earthen mound that made up the palisade walls rose upward to a point patrolled by guards. From this height, they could see the sea around them, as well as the rolling plains and the north-south road that ran from Kersa to the edge of the isle.
Near the center of the level, encased in stone awnings and wooden walls, sat the Great Hall of the Chieftain. In the far corner was a large windmill, where a smithy was busy hammering a new part in place, and children lifted wheat from a store house built into the wall of the village, and prepared it to be ground. Seabirds resting on the top perches of the building took flight as they approached the doors.
The guards at the sides bowed before opening the wooden doors that creaked as they fought the icy buildup that iced over the hinges. Sviska and the others followed Knasgriff into the darkened doorway.
Walking in, the ceiling rose to a high point. A large fire ran almost the length of the hall along one side, and opposite of that, a large table beckoned them, with servants attending to the two people they had seen riding the cart from earlier. Above them, two chandeliers glowed with candles, dripping wax onto their metal frames, and lightened up the otherwise dank hall.
"It is better than some of the island nations, but by no means the nicest. Perhaps next time you plan to shipwreck, you can do so on an eastern island. They tend to be a bit more elaborate with their halls."
Garoa chuckled quietly to himself. Sviska and Berie stared at the two at the table.
Knasgriff took a seat by the man and woman who stirred their bread in a bowl of broth and fish, closing his hands and leaning forward.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 28