As they approached the front doors, a pair of guards were busy retrieving hats and cloaks for departing guests. Another two standing outside the doors were facing away from Wren and the young lady, their eyes glued to the gates beyond the courtyard.
“You see,” Wren said. “They only care about keeping people out. They don’t pay much attention to who is leaving the manor.”
“I could call out to them,” she said.
“But you won’t,” Wren replied.
“How do you know?”
“Because you left the governor unconscious in his bedroom. I imagine he’ll be angry when he wakes. He may even blame you for what happened. I should think you will want to keep a low profile from now on.”
The young lady audibly gulped and turned her eyes to the front. Wren didn’t have to tug at her arm to make her keep pace after that.
Of course, Wren knew that the governor wouldn’t blame the young lady. In fact, the letter Wren had left upon the governor’s chest would only cast blame on him. Not by name of course, for no one knew his true identity, but everyone knew the call sign of the spotted feather. Wren was notorious up and down the border for his actions. Some thought him to be an army of well-organized bandits, others thought him a myth that officials blamed when enemy troops upset their best plans, but the truth was that the small brown feather with white spots might very well induce a heart attack. The governor would comply with Wren’s demands not only for Wren’s reputation, but also for the contents of the wooden box he had stolen. The letter left upon the governor would demand that a wagon of food and medical supplies be sent northward to a small village left destitute by the ongoing war.
“What’s in the box?”
“Never mind that,” Wren said. “Just keep your eyes on the gate ahead,” he said as they continued on.
They hurried through the courtyard and out the front gates without incident. Then, true to his word, Wren released the young lady after hailing a carriage for her to take her home and paying for it.
He smiled and slipped into the crowd, then worked his way out of Kraltys without anyone noticing.
The raven, perched upon a nearby tree, crowed once and then flew on ahead of Wren, scouting the way and then circling back toward the assassin. Wren followed the bird until he reached a stable just a short walk from the southern gates. After assessing that no one would catch him, the assassin stole a horse and rode it quickly into the woods. The raven easily kept pace with them, darting under the taller tree branches as it soared ahead along the road leading east. Wren continued through the forest until he came to a diverging road that led him through the trees to a spot that only he and his client knew about. The raven perched itself on a low-hanging branch while Wren circled around a large stump, conducting a quick check for traps or any sign of trespassers. The assassin then moved to the hollow stump, reached in, and pulled up a sack cloth. Upon opening the drawstring and peering inside he smiled. He had been waiting for this book for a long time.
Wren paused and stared at the blue binding for just a moment, wondering why someone like Master Driscal would have given this particular book to a third-rate member of the Merrynian royal family. Whatever his reason for choosing to work with someone so clearly below his normal pay grade, the wizard’s strange choice of business partners had played right into Wren’s plans. The assassin smiled as he cinched the cloth closed once more. It was well worth the trip to the governor’s manor. He happily slipped the stolen wooden box with its contents into the stump and went along his way.
Chapter 3
Threading his way through the streets of Ryr, Liden alternated tossing two small stones up in the air with his left hand. Juggling was something that came easy to him and helped him clear his head when he was frustrated. A group of children bumped into him, knocking the stones to the ground as they ducked in and out between the feet of miners as they travelled home from work. They barely slowed down to tip their hats and apologize when they ran into the local preacher, Mr. Burz, before they disappeared around the corner, past the blacksmith shop, laughing and teasing each other as they went. Though he was only seventeen, it seemed it had been a long time since Liden was a child. He didn’t even remember a time when he was so carefree. His mind was too busy for that kind of luxury. Even when he was a child, he’d been constantly planning a way to fund his way out of Ryr and make something more of himself than a miner.
“You still mad?” Debir asked in a raised voice that let Liden know he had missed that Debir had already asked the question at least once.
“Sorry, I’m a little distracted,” he admitted. He turned to look down at his red-headed friend and tried to give him his entire focus. “What were you saying?”
“You’ve been practically fuming since you got back from the caves today. Usually when you have some kind of adventure, you’re in a better mood. Even when it doesn’t go so well.” Debir took a small sidestep around a puddle without even noticing what he was doing. Liden couldn’t figure out how this clerk’s assistant was able to keep so many things going on in his mind at the same time, like it was all mapped and figured out down to the smallest piece of… Liden’s boot sank into a fresh, squishy pile of horse manure he hadn’t noticed. Ugh!
“I’m just getting sick of having my freedom barely out of my reach. It’s like I can feel it brushing my fingertips, but I can’t grasp onto it.” He reached his hands out as he spoke. “If we could find even a small vein of gold, we’d make enough to get out of here, travel east to Zulholm, and really make it big.”
“The office posted an invitation from Zulholm today.” Debir raised his eyebrows up and down. “We really could do it, you know.”
“First off, we’d never make it to Zulholm in time for the festival, and secondly, there’s no way we’d win.” Although they toyed with the idea of going to the festival each year, failures like today’s dead end cave made it seem like an impossibility.
Debir shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no harm in trying. You’ve been practicing your juggling. It’s been a while, but I’m not too rusty.” Debir waved his hands with a flare that made Liden grin. It reminded him of the fun they’d had the previous year as they made plans to run off with the circus.
“I don’t mean to be a downer. When we were practicing the act every day we were pretty good, but that festival with the prize would attract people from the entire kingdom. We’d probably lose the entrance fee, which we still haven’t managed to raise,” Liden put in, still feeling himself in a bit of a foul mood. “If only I had found some gold. I know it’s there.”
“That sounds very familiar,” Debir responded. “In fact I think that’s what you told me your dad has said for thirty years.”
Liden rubbed his head. His friend was right. He didn’t want to be in this mining city his entire life, scraping by, always hoping for a big find while he broke his back picking at rock. “You’re right,” he admitted to his friend. “Do you think we’d be able to have enough saved up to leave in six months? Then we could know we’d have the time to get there for the festival and maybe even have time in Zulholm to get established before the competition.
“Why don’t we just go?” Debir asked with a shrug. “I have a little saved up, you can get food from your da’s cellar, fill up your pack, and we’ll head out. It doesn’t cost anything to walk and sleep out under the stars.”
Liden shook his head, “It’s not that easy, believe me I’ve thought this through.”
“Really?” Debir asked, stopping in the street just next to a pile of crusted manure. He crossed his arms and then began rubbing his chin. “I’d love to hear how you’d do it. Is it overly complicated, yet doomed to fail, like most of your other plans?” he asked with a grin.
Liden leaned his weight on one leg, and reached up to rub his chin, copying Debir’s mannerisms. Then mimicking Debir’s accent perfectly, he retorted, “It’s a carriage I’ve been inventing that is shaped like a horse with fully mechanical moving parts you can co
ntrol from the inside. We all crawl into it, sneak past the Bardwatch patrols, then poop ourselves out the back end when we’re at Freyr.”
“Seriously,” Debir cut in with a shake of his head. “Having a mechanical horse was a great idea. They don’t eat anything and…” Liden was smirking again and Debir waved him off. “So what’s your great plan?”
They started walking again in the direction of Liden’s home. “We’d go with one of the large freight ships when they leave with a shipment of ore. That way we wouldn’t need to explain ourselves to the city watch, or the patrols around Bardwatch.”
“Agreed.” Debir nodded. “How would we pay for passage on this ship?”
“Already planned.”
“Really? How?”
“Then we’d get off in Astyr,” Liden continued, ignoring the question about money, “and from there go by land through Freyr. Take the mountain pass to Kyt, and we’re practically there.” Liden’s mood was lightening as he focused on explaining his plan. The only thing that made living in Ryr bearable was making plans to leave. “The only real challenge is getting the others to come along,” Liden finished with a small shrug.
“And paying for the passage on the ship,” Debir reminded him. “I’m not sure how to feel right now. Your plan seems… oversimplified,” Debir said with a shake of his head. “But let’s say you have thought through the details…”
“Which I have.”
“Knell would come in a heartbeat if you asked,” Debir argued. “As long as she left her younger brothers behind so they have a namesake, her parents probably wouldn’t even notice that she left.”
Liden shook his head and deliberately jumped over a large puddle that blocked their path as they turned down the side street to his home. “She’d never leave Sarta behind. As much as that girl drives her nuts, she wouldn’t leave her alone with her parents.”
“She might surprise you,” Debir suggested, but then he shook his head. “Then again, you might be right,” he conceded. “I guess Sarta could come along, but Hunlok would probably go crazy in the first five minutes.
“Ha! That would be quite the sight, her clinging to his arm all across the southern kingdom of Kresthin!” Liden batted his eyes and looked upwards despite being as tall as most people in the streets. “Oh Hunlok,” he said in Sarta’s high pitched voice. “You’re so handsome and strong!” He stood up straighter, mimicking Hunlok and deepened his voice, “I, uh, like you as a friend, but we can’t get married until you’re out of diapers and pig tails.”
“That poor girl!” Debir laughed out and slapped Liden on the back.
“If he knew we needed him, I think Hunlok would come,” Liden said, speaking again in his own voice as he returned the conversation to the plan. “Maybe just the three of us could make a go of it.”
Debir shook his head. “We can’t do a cross country trip without Knell. First off she’d kill us if we left without her. Second, she’s the hunter. We’d probably starve without her.”
“That’s a good point.” They stopped walking when they came to Liden’s house. He looked up at the modest home where his father had been raised, and shook his head. Debir was right. If he waited until he struck it big here he’d end up just like his father; stuck. That was not the life he wanted. “Six months,” Liden said, feeling more confident with each word. “We’re going to do it. No more chasing after a gold mine. I’m doing regular daily work for regular daily pay and it’s all going toward our passage to Astyr.”
“Now you’re talking!” Debir said with an enthusiastic shake of his head. “Gotta go!” He practically spun around and started back down the street, leaving Liden standing looking at his father’s house.
****
It took Debir nearly twenty minutes to get Hunlok and work their way through the crowd back toward the military accounting office where Debir worked. When they came up to the building it was closed for business, but there was still plenty of daylight left for them to see. Hunlok caught up to him just as they closed in on the building. “If Liden said we’re leaving in six months, why are you in such a rush?”
“When else were we supposed to start?” he questioned. “You know Liden,” he reasoned. “He’s the exact opposite of Knell; always over-planning before he’s ready to move on anything.” Hunlok nodded his head, but still looked like he didn’t understand the urgency. “We need to do some prep work so everything will be in place.”
“How will we know what we need to do?” the larger boy questioned.
Debir shrugged. “We don’t know yet. First we need to see what we have to work with.” He circled past the front of the office, noting that the blinds were all pulled shut and the door was locked. It wasn’t always easy getting Liden to move, but once he started on something, he would work tirelessly to overcome anything that got in the way. “The back alley over there,” Debir pointed, “is where I was able to get the crossbow a few weeks back. It took a while to fix, but now it’s in great shape.”
“They just threw that away?” Hunlok asked, looking a little surprised. “Isn’t that a bit of a waste?”
“Sure,” Debir answered automatically. “They’re the military; they’re not known for being frugal. When something breaks, or stops functioning, especially when it’s in a place like Ryr that’s hundreds of miles from the border, they just trash it and commission a new one.”
“So what you’re saying is that we can be armed when we leave?” Hunlok looked a little more excited than Debir expected at the prospect of having weapons, despite the fact that he didn’t have the first clue how to use them. Weaponry was not something he needed working as a farm hand.
“Not just weapons,” he cut in. “Levers, pulleys, gears, machine parts of all kinds are thrown out here to be burned, then the metal is melted down. If we come here every time they dispose of old supplies, we’ll be able to gather some useful things, fix them up, and be equipped for the trip.”
“Think we’d be able to sell any of it?” Hunlok asked, his eyes glowing at the thought. “I’m not just gathering supplies for you to make your mechanical cow.”
“Horse,” he quickly corrected. “It was a horse and …” Debir held a finger up to his mouth. “Shhh! I think I hear something.” He flattened his back to the building and pulled Hunlok with him.
“What was it?”
There was a slight rattling and a dragging sound coming from the back alley. “I don’t know, it could just be someone else looking for supplies. But I thought for a minute I heard a muffled voice.”
Hunlok ducked his head around the corner then quickly came back. “I didn’t see anyone.”
Debir peeked around the corner. It was empty. He could have sworn there was an unusual sound. Despite the alley looking empty, he moved forward cautiously. Hunlok joined next to him. “Maybe it was an animal.”
“You’re probably right,” Debir admitted, relaxing a little.
The back door of the office burst open, snapping off its hinges and Sergeant Avatol, the commanding officer, fell through onto the ground. Debir stared, unable to move. Sergeant Avatol was a decorated officer retired from fieldwork to run the handful of regional military offices. How could someone do that to him?
Two people quickly followed after Sergeant Avatol. The two men looked like they were large enough to be mine workers or soldiers, only their clothing was more like the merchants. One had the gold box in his hand, the other had a stack of papers. “Get them!” one said, pointing at Debir and Hunlok.
Before he could start running, Debir felt his body being spun around by his large friend and they rushed out of the alley into the street. “This way,” Hunlok shouted, turning to the right. He easily outpaced the shorter boy, but tried not to get too far ahead. They ran down the side street, gaining some ground on the men behind them, but Debir didn’t know how long he could keep up this pace. Debir sat at a desk most days; he didn’t chase after livestock like Hunlok. Once they were out in the main street, Hunlok turned right and made fo
r a crowd that was passing by. When the crowd was behind them, Hunlok suddenly stopped running and resumed a normal walking pace. Shocked by the sudden change in pace, Debir ran into the back of him. “What are you doing?”
“Blending in,” Hunlok replied.
“But they’ll catch us,” Debir protested. He was happy for the break from sprinting, but walking slowly while the men were coming out after them did not sound like a good plan. Debir looked over his shoulder and Hunlok grabbed his arm and turned him around.
“Don’t look back. They’ll have a harder time finding us if we’re not running or staring back at them.”
Seeing the wisdom in Hunlok’s plan, Debir pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the ground without changing his pace. “Good idea,” Hunlok said with a nod.
From behind there was a bit of a ruckus as the men ran out into the street. He heard a man shout, “What is the meaning of this?” and a woman gasped in shock. With effort, Debir didn’t look back at them, but kept moving at a steady pace. He wanted to look back and see whether they had been spotted. What if they were running right at him? Or were they perhaps slowly stalking behind, steadily gaining ground. As he was about to take a quick peek, Hunlok took a sharp left turn off the main street and pulled Debir with him. They were off again at a full run.
Hunlok took a right turn, then a left, running deep into a residential part of the city where the homes were built up two to three stories tall because they had run out of space to build new ones. At each intersection he made another turn, weaving their way unpredictably through this section of town until Debir felt like his legs would give out and his lungs would explode. “I can’t,” he gasped as he leaned over onto a building for a break. Debir gulped in air, sure that if the men were still following them, they could hear him from a block away.
Wren and the Ravens Page 4