Jana followed Brant’s lead and reached her hand across the bar. “I am Jana and this is my brother, Tobias.”
Borgan shook her hand and looked at Tobias, who glanced at him briefly before turning away. “Well it is nice to meet you both. Can I get you anything to eat? My wife is a culinary master,” he said, beaming proudly.
Jana glanced at Brant and he nodded. “Go ahead, order what you want.”
“What do you have ready?” she asked. “I don’t want to trouble the cook.”
“Well we are getting ready for the dinner crowd so we have a few options. You could go with the simple cheese, cured meat, and bread platter. Or you could sample her meat pie. We also have braised pork ribs and a rabbit stew. Grilled turnips and fresh bread come with every meal.”
“I will try your meat pie. Tobias, what would you like?” Tobias leaned close and whispered into her ear. “My brother would like some rabbit stew.”
“Your brother is a shy one, isn’t he?”
“Not normally.” But she said nothing more.
Sensing there was something wrong, Borgan changed the subject. “And Brant, what would you like?”
“Meat pie. And bring us all waters if you will.”
“You sure you don’t want anything warmer? We have a tasty spiced cider prepared and it is nice and hot.”
Brant looked at Jana and she nodded. “That would be great, thank you, Borgan.”
“Excellent. I’ll be back soon and we can talk.”
“Thank you. I need to speak with you about something. And I think your wife should be a part of the conversation.”
Borgan raised his eyebrows at that, and Brant didn’t miss the quick glance he gave Jana before looking back at Brant. “Very well,” he said as he pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.
The door had barely stopped swinging before Thea burst through, her bright smile lighting up the shadowed room. “Brant! It really is you!” she said as she ran around the bar to hug him. Thea was the most beautiful girl Brant had yet to meet, although he didn’t know her well. They met years back when he had intervened on her behalf when she was being man handled by a drunk regular who just happened to have been the local magistrate’s son. Things did not go well and Brant had accidently killed the young man, putting Brant on a path to the Schulg pits.
Brant, who didn’t’ know her well, was taken aback by her reaction. He had only met her once and surely his actions that night didn’t warrant this kind of greeting. But he had to admit that he didn’t mind it. She was young and beautiful and had a kind and caring energy that was infectious. Even Jana smiled when she noticed how awkward Brant looked hugging her. “Hi Thea,” he said.
“I’m so glad you are here,” she said as she stepped back from him.
“Why is that?” Brant asked awkwardly, still feeling unsure of himself.
“I never got a chance to thank you for defending me those years back. You were sentenced because of me. I have felt terrible about it for so long. I thought you were dead until Kulvar Rand showed up last year.”
“It was not your fault. I made an error in judgment. I never should have hit him so hard.”
“Maybe not,” she conceded. “But I thank you nonetheless. Everyone was so afraid of him and his father. I wouldn't have put it past him to take his actions further.”
“Speaking of his father. Is he still the magistrate?”
“No. He was removed from his position half a year ago.”
“I see.” Brant had a feeling that Kulvar Rand might have had something to do with that. There was a part of him that was hoping he still held his post. He wanted to see his face when he stood before him. But it was probably for the best since there was a good chance that their meeting would have turned violent. And he certainly didn’t need any more trouble with the magistrate or the town’s guard.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“It’s a long story. I’m about to tell it to Borgan if you have the time.”
She looked around the room. “I think I’m all ready for the dinner crowd. I can spare enough time to hear a few chapters of a fine tale.”
As if on cue Borgan entered from the kitchen with a large tray laden with plates of food. Setting the tray down, he served them their food and drink. Then he turned around, grabbed two goblets from a shelf, and filled them with wine from a cask. He handed one to Thea and faced Brant, his face now serious. “Okay, let me hear this tale.”
Brant gave them the abridged version, through mouthfuls of food and a half cup of cider. By the time he had finished several customers had entered. Thea, clearly agitated and worried about the Saricon attack on Cythera, excused herself to see to the patrons.
“Well,” Borgan began. “That is quite a story.” He too looked worried. “What are we to do? Do you think the Saricons will come here?”
Brant frowned. “I think so. They will want to replace the town guard with their own men and take control of all the larger towns and cities. They will probably send their soldiers through here soon on their way to take over the mines.”
“What are we to do?”
Brant noticed him glance at Thea. The old barkeep was worried for her, and rightly so. If the Saricons came, any young woman, especially one as beautiful as Thea, would likely be in danger. Brant too was concerned about her. The thought of what the Saricons might do to her made his blood boil.
“You could flee, but then what? Where would you go and how would you survive? You could stay and not make trouble when they come. Hopefully they will not harm anyone who doesn’t fight back. After all, we believe they are here for trade and religious expansion, not to just rape and pillage.”
Borgan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “What will you do?”
“We are marching with Prince Jarak, the rightful king of Cythera, to Tanwen and Kreb. He wants to rebuild his army and retake the city.”
Borgan shook his head. “A lofty task.”
Brant looked into his cup, thinking the same thing. Drinking deeply he savored the last of his warm spiced cider. “I have a favor to ask of you. Would you mind if your wife came out for a few moments?”
Borgan stood up, glancing at Jana and Tobias, who had thus far remained silent. Then he turned and cracked open the swinging door. “Marin, will you please come out for a moment.”
“I’ll be right out!” a voice from inside the kitchen followed. “I’m braising the ribs.”
Borgan took the moment to refill his wine cup. Then Thea came to the bar with an order for a pitcher of winter ale. Borgan filled the order and set the pitcher and cups on her tray just as his wife emerged from the kitchen door. She was a stocky woman and wore a short gray apron that covered her ample bosom, the food stained cloth stopping just short of her knees. Her hair was mostly hidden under a white hat, except for several wispy gray strands that clung to her sweaty face. Deep lines surrounded her eyes and framed the corners of her mouth, but she walked with a confident spring in her step that belied her age. She looked at Brant and smiled. “Hello, Brant, I’m Marin. I feel like I know you as you’ve been quite an interesting topic of discussion for some time now.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Brant said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your work but I have something that I’d like to present to you both. And I want you to know that I have no one else to turn to. A friend of mine was killed yesterday by Saricon raiders. He and his family,” Brant continued, gesturing to Tobias and Jana, “took me in, gave me work, and treated me like their own family. His name was Kaan and these here are his children.”
“Oh dear,” she gasped, her hand coming to her mouth. “You poor children. I am so sorry,” she said as she quickly made her way around the bar. They turned in their stools to face her. “What are your names?”
Jana solemnly stood. “I’m Jana, and this is my brother, Tobias.” Tobias stood next to his sister, hiding silently behind her hip.
Marin reached out, embrac
ing Jana in a hug, holding her tightly in her strong arms. “I’m so sorry, my dear.” Her touch broke the temporary dam that had held back her tears and she cried softly into her shoulder. Marin held her for a few more moments, allowing her to let the tears flow, until gradually they subsided. Then she slowly released her and held her at arm’s length. Marin then squatted down before Tobias and looked him in the eyes. “Tobias, I am Marin. Did you know that I lost my father when I was close to your age?”
Tobias shook his head.
“I did. I cried for weeks.”
“How did he die?” the boy asked shyly.
“He fell from his horse and broke his neck. I didn’t think I would ever get over it. But I did.”
“How?”
“My friends and family helped me. Can I be your friend? I would like to help you.” Tobias nodded his head. “Good. Now, can I have a hug? I like to hug my friends.” Tobias nodded his head and reached for her. Marin took him in her arms and held him tight. Finally, she stood and faced Brant. “Now, what is that favor you wished to ask?” She was all business-like again.
“I need someone to watch after them while I’m gone. Where I’m going will be dangerous. They are hard workers and I can offer you some coin to help pay for clothing and necessities.”
Marin looked at Borgan but his expression was unreadable. She faced Jana again, her stoic face now soft and welcoming. “What skills do you have, my dear?”
“I am a good cook and I know my way around a kitchen. I can clean and garden as well. My brother is good with horses, cows, pigs, and chickens. We are both hard workers and learn things quickly.”
“I see,” she said, pursing her lips in thought.
“Maam, I will be honest with you. I do not want to leave my home. But we have no family now, and my only goal is to take care of my brother. And if that means that we stay here, where it is safe, then so be it. We are accustomed to hard work and we will not be a burden. If you take us in, you will not regret it, that I can promise you.”
“I like her,” she said suddenly to Brant. “She has spirit. We will agree to house, feed, and take care of them. In return, they will help us run the place.” She sighed and wiped the perspiration from her face. “There's no doubt I could use the extra help in the kitchen.”
Jana smiled, the first Brant had seen on her face since Kaan had died. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet; tonight will be a busy night.” But she was smiling again. “Now come along; say your good byes and join me in the kitchen. Tobias, you can stay out here with Borgan where he can put you to work clearing tables and such.”
“Thank you,” Brant said, relief and gratitude evident in his voice.
Marin reached out and touched his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you come back. They will need you.”
“I plan on it.”
Marin went back to the kitchen as Brant reached into his pocket, setting a small bag of coins on the table before Borgan. “Thank you, Borgan. There are enough coins here to pay for our meals and to cover any expenses for their care.” The rest of the party had agreed to give five gold dracks, three silver shikes, and twenty copper tiggs to help seal the deal that they knew he had to make.
Borgan looked at the coins and shook his head in denial. Reaching out, he slid the bag back to Brant. “Keep it. Sounds like you will be needing this. Don’t worry, they will work off their expenses. Honestly, it’s sort of a relief. We really do need the extra help.” More customers were coming in for supper and Thea’s orders started to stack up. “Now say your good byes. It’s time for us to get to work. And don’t worry. I will watch over them as if they were my own.”
Brant turned to face the children. “I’m sorry I have to leave you like this. But they will take good care of you. And I promise you I will do my best to return.”
Jana’s eyes were rimmed with tears and her lower lip trembled as she spoke. “I…understand…I…will…miss…”
Before she could finish Brant reached towards her and pulled her into his arms. He held her tight, fighting his own tears, as she cried into his chest. Tobias had grabbed Brant's leg as if clinging to life and had buried his head in his hip, his tears flowing freely. Finally, Brant slowly pulled away from them, squatting to face Tobias. He held the boy by his shoulders. “Tobias, you need to be strong for your father. He would want you to watch after your sister. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said through his sobs. “When will we see you again?”
“I don’t know. But I will come as soon as I can.” Brant stood up and faced them one last time. “And, if the Saricons come to this town, do nothing to anger them. Be respectful and follow their orders. And Jana, stay in the kitchen and out of sight. Promise me.” Brant did not want her anywhere near the Saricon’s when they took control of the town.
They solemnly nodded in agreement. He hugged them one more time and turned for the door. He did not look back, fearing that if he did he would not have the resolve to leave, and leave them he knew he must.
“Brant!” Thea ran to him from a side table, her empty tray held low. He hadn’t even seen her, his eyes blurry with tears and his mind occupied by concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He thought it strange that he could face virtually any enemy in a fight to the death, but to face Tobias and Jana as he was leaving them was something he just didn’t have the courage for. “Are you leaving?”
“I am. The children are staying. Borgan and Marin will fill you in. Listen, promise me you will look after them,” he said as he wiped the corners of his eyes.
“I promise. Will you be coming back?”
“I hope so. One more thing. If the Saricons come here, do your best to survive. Do not antagonize them and keep your head low.”
“Ummm, okay.”
Brant hugged her. “Be safe.” Then he left without another look.
***
Orin moved silently through the tall grass, his feet stepping gently from one spot to another, an arrow nocked to his bow. Wearing the green and brown clothing of a huntsman he was virtually invisible amid the tall grass and bonet trees that surrounded him. The tulkick was just ahead. He and his sister had tracked the animal for several miles and it had run into a glade of bonet trees to find refuge. But Orin, like a morning fog, drifted quietly through the trees, ducking and turning smoothly, like a dancer to a silent song, never making a sound.
There it was, just ahead. From twenty paces away he could see its brown coat through the web of branches and green foliage. The four legged creature looked up from the grass and Orin froze. He could hear his heart beat and feel the sweat drip from his forehead.
Behind him and to his right, maybe ten paces, was his twin sister, Ardra. And although these twin siblings resembled each other, they looked very different from the people of Dy’ain. They were Gyths, a people from far to the north who made their home in the Lorian Forest. Gyths were generally very pale, their skin almost white, but in stark contrast they always had red hair, including their eyebrows. The rest of their body, however, was hairless. But it was their eyes that drew pause from those who first encountered them. They were all white, including the pupils, which were often a slight shade lighter or darker, with light gray irises that were streaked with such subtle shades of green and blue that only on close inspection could one discern them. From a distance their eyes appeared mostly white, which made them appear eerie and unnatural to many. Orin and Ardra were no different, their fiery red hair standing out against their pale white skin like blood on freshly fallen snow. Both had the typical eyes of a Gyth, although Ardra’s were more streaked with green than blue. She too wore huntsman's clothing, her dark green cloak draped a tan tunic belted around her brown breeches, allowing her to move easily and silently through the grass. She too held a bow, though slightly smaller, with an arrow nocked. They were both lithe and light on their feet with years of woodcraft experience. Their features, though often concealed by their hoods, identified them cle
arly as foreigners in Dy’ain, which was populated predominantly by dark skinned people with brown to black hair. But they were accustomed to being outsiders, having spent nearly their entire life traveling from place to place, living off the land, and seldom venturing into any major cities.
Being a Gyth came with one main certainty. All Gyths, when they reached the age of sixteen, were required to spend four years in the Talcanon, their elite military organization. During those arduous four years each young adult would be transformed into a warrior, skilled in woodcraft, the bow, sword, and spear. They became deadly fighters and the Talcanon protected the borders of the Lorian Forest with brutal efficiency. It was there, during their training, that Orin and Ardra had learned the hand language of the Talcanon. Once their four years of service was completed, many remained in the Talcanon. Others left to become craftsman, artisans, and farmers. And some became mercenaries, their legendary skills and fierce reputation earning the warriors high wages.
The tulkick's position in the brush would make Orin's shot difficult and he glanced at Ardra who was now fifteen paces on his left. He flashed her several hand signals and she responded with her own. She had a better shot.
Ardra planted her legs and pulled the arrow slowly back, careful to not make any sudden movement. Taking a deep breath she slowly let it out, peering down the shaft to the point just behind the tulkick’s front leg. Her shot was difficult as well, the path to the animal obscured with branches and leaves. Just as she was about to release the arrow, her head exploded in fiery pain. She dropped her bow to the ground and held her head in her hands, groaning in agony as she sought to maintain her balance, the intensity of the attack nearly knocking her to the ground.
Orin swore under his breath as the animal froze, suddenly alert and ready to bolt. Orin had only a blink to draw his own bow back and release the shaft. Drawing energy from his aura, he released the arrow with incredible speed and it flew through the maze of branches towards the startled animal. Orin watched, as if it were happening in slow motion, as the arrow soared toward its target. He saw the tulkick's hind legs flex, its muscles bulging as it readied to spring away. His arrow pierced the leaves, striking its flank just as it was ready to jump away. Screeching, the animal leapt through the grass, managing to frantically sprint thirty paces away before succumbing to its wound and collapsing to the grassy ground where it died within moments.
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