The two captives were still tied to the back of the wagon. What had her confused was the fact that they were still there. She knew from their initial encounter that they were formidable as foes, and it was blind luck that they had been overcome. Though Zya rarely let anything disturb her, she was uneasy about the fact that they were still there. She turned suddenly at the sound of someone shouting.
“Erilee! Come away from there!”
It was Jani shouting. Erilee it seemed was mesmerised in some way by the captives, finding her way near them several times since their capture. She would hop down from the wagon to go to the river, or perform a chore for one of the adults, and when she didn't return they would find her walking alongside the pair. One night, when they were camped for the evening, a search for Erilee eventually found her only a few feet away from the man with the dark features, just staring into his eyes. There seemed to be no way to separate her from them; intuition still told Zya that capturing them was a mistake. There was mystery surrounding the pair – that was for sure. The code of the travellers forbade any of them from interfering with the captives so they had no idea what the second captive looked like. They knew he had regained consciousness by the grunts made when Jaden prodded him once.
They had taken no food and only a little water all week. There had been no excuse for him to reveal himself and that concerned her all the more. Still, Zya was more concerned with the approaching forest. The dark green mass of foliage had been a slight stain on the horizon for the last few days where they could see the treetops. But now they were nearing the valley, the immensity of the forest suddenly made itself known. It had a distant beauty, the green stark against the blue of the sky and the pale green of the surrounding land. As long as it was far off, it did not impose, did not threaten. Zya had never really been into a large forest before; the travellers preferred the open ground with good tracks. She dimly remembered passing through the northern reaches of what she knew to be the Merdon forest, but they had mostly stuck to the open areas to ply their trade. She had heard stories about the great wood on the southern coast, and these were mainly what fuelled her fear about the dense woodland. Zya resolved she would keep her fears to herself though, as she reasoned any fool may tell a tale, but the true fools were those who listened to the wrong ones; a favourite saying of the Mistress when one of the children had run telling tales. It confused the others, but Zya appreciated its meaning, learning to not take things at face value, but to look for hidden depths.
Zya looked down at the trail, noting how it was becoming more defined. It was this that caused her to look up and see her father riding alongside her. He smiled “Distracted?”
Zya stretched and inhaled deeply. “How anyone could not forget their problems in such countryside is beyond me, Father. I feel privileged beyond measure to be out in such perfection.”
Tarim looked where Zya had been staring. “I see you have noted the increased use of the road.”
Zya glanced down. “Yes, I assume we are reaching a village after all of this time. Do we wait with patience, or do we ride on ahead?” Zya asked this knowing full well that protocol dictated that they should not stray from the caravan when entering a populace. Tarim raised an eyebrow, shifting on his steed as it frisked in the warm breeze.
“What makes you think we should do that dear? You know we are supposed to remain together until we enter the settlement; there could be all manner of hostile welcome for us in there.”
“We are hardly in the typical group of travellers, Father, and we are definitely not in the normal situation. I just think if we find out there is somewhere secure to deposit the two, instead of turning up unannounced with captives, then things will go easier. I don't know why Father, but I feel this is right.” Tarim's face darkened as his brow lowered in concentration. After a few seconds it appeared to Zya that he had made his decision.
“It seems we are all crossing uncharted land with this past week or so. Let us confer with Venla, as we will not be going ahead against her wishes.” Father and daughter turned their horses and set them to a canter. Red seemed much more alert to Zya, as he finally had some active guidance instead of being left to his own devices. He was eager to burn off some energy and by the time they reached the head of the wagons, they were at a full gallop.
As they reined in, Layric waved from the front of the lead wagon, one of his russet hounds at his side. “What has you two in such a hurry?” He looked around, indicating the countryside with one hand before rubbing his hound's ears. “This is surely the time for reflection and thought rather than haste.”
“We are nearing a settlement, Layric. Zya here wants permission to go ahead to check there are secure lodgings for our guests. I will accompany her if it is the wish of the mistress.”
Layric watched his other two hounds jumping and snapping at low flying birds, their glossy red coats almost on fire with the effect of the sun's rays. “Venla, oh great mistress mine, come up here dear.”
Venla poked her youthful face out of the van and saw Tarim and Zya besides the wagon. She smiled. “Been out enjoying the terrain? From the look of your horses I wouldn't do that too often today or they will be useless tomorrow.”
Tarim flashed her a grin, making her blush slightly. “No problem with that mother, but we do have a bit of an issue that needs resolving.”
Venla looked off to the distant curving of the river. “Has this anything to do with Hoebridge? I knew we were getting close, but I did not realise how close.”
Zya spoke up. “Mother, I feel that at the very least we should look to see that the place can take our 'captives'. They have been around us too long and I don't see us lasting with them much longer.”
Venla stared directly into Zya's eyes for a moment and then nodded. “Child, is this what you think, or what you feel?” Zya looked within herself. There had been something about the pair when she had first seen them, all be it at full gallop on Red's back. The niggling feeling had worsened over the week, as if their presence prolonged was a future disaster for the group.
“It is what I feel, mother. I cannot explain it, but if we are not rid of them soon, something terrible is going to come of it, I am sure.” Layric looked flushed. He kept silent, but he was clearly opposed to any breach of protocol.
Venla gazed at him, as if her authority, tempered with her youthful looks would quiet any possible outburst. “I know, my husband. It is against the principles set down by those in the past.” She turned back to Zya. “But Ramaji has told me remarkable things about you, child. It seems you can see deeper into things than others do.” Venla stood to get a better view of the terrain, her braid falling from its perch on her shoulders to settle at her back She peered at the distant curve of the glittering river, then at the well worn tracks in the ground.
“It cannot be more than a couple of Leagues from Hoebridge. I see no harm in you riding on ahead to see about procuring some more permanent lodgings for our guests. Tarim, keep her company. I think that was your plan anyway.” Venla said the last bit with a smile that looked magnificent in the afternoon sun.
Tarim thought to himself that his friend Layric was a lucky man indeed. “Most perceptive of you mother” he replied with a small bow from the seat of his saddle. “We will seek the best lodgings of the type available for our guests. Come Zya, the day gets no younger as we whittle it away here.” With a nod from Tarim and a small wave from Zya, the two rode off down the dusty track.
Layric turned to his wife. “Venla, people would not like this if they knew about such breaches.”
Venla gazed steadily at her husband. “People will not know, my husband. It is for me to lead this group, and for good or ill it is for me to make decisions.” Venla looked imploringly at her husband. “I know this does not sit easy with you Layric, but consider the situation. It was enough for us to keep the captives without Cahal and Jaden ridding us of them. The good people of this village will expect a band of travellers to appear to mend their wares, not to inc
ite riot by dumping bandits on them. I feel Zya has a way about her, as does her father. They will smooth the way.” Venla leaned back in her seat.
Layric smiled and added “And nothing has been normal recently, so why start now, right?” Venla could see that her husband agreed with her, and just sat there holding his hand. Nothing more need be said between them.
After their recent gallop, the horses were eager for more. However, being experienced riders, both Tarim and his daughter knew that they could not allow the horses to overdo themselves without them becoming useless. They kept them at a distance-eating canter, which was fast enough to get to the town way ahead of the rest. Zya knew that they would not be rushed in sorting out the problem. As they neared the settlement, other more obvious signs began to materialise. Occasionally, where there had been pits in the road mounds of crushed stone had been dumped to fill them. The odd field showed signs of cultivation, evidence of the town spreading to sustain itself. Of course, it was different across the river, which sparkled in the afternoon sun.
Just beyond, not more than a league away stood the mass of dense trees that was the Boarwood. It filled the entire view. The land on the other side was no different in gradient than the side they were riding on, and Zya could noticed that the trees went on as far as the eye could see. As they rounded the bend of the river, Zya noted how it had slowed during their travels. No longer was it the exuberant child she has seen when coming down from the higher mountains. It had slowed, and in so doing had taken on a more majestic air. It seemed to move slowly, but as if it was in a stately procession; its destination still a mystery. Instead of the crystal sparkles she had seen, there was a steady glow now, with the suns rays reflected in the ripples of the river when the trout jumped for flies. Gren had once told her that the river fish were agents of Phanishwa, come to take back the errant souls that danced just out of reach of his realm. She had believed that for years when she was young, but marvelled more now at the strength of the fish to actually leave their element to catch food.
During a few of their quieter moments, Cahal had taken a freshly cut sapling, added various metal implements supplied by Jani and a length of stout cord provided by Anita, and actually gone to hunt them! The few times Zya had accompanied the stout guard he had been successful, landing a few large silvery fish. Gren had been more than pleased to cook them and Zya had tasted something subtle and yet very full of flavour. On one night, Zya had learnt how to fish and how to cook them. Zya thought she had found Gren's secret; it was the herbs he picked from the side of the road that added subtlety and depth to the meats and vegetables he cooked. Once she reasoned this, Gren had her learn as much about culinary herbs as she could; it seemed to come very easily to her.
About a league further on, Tarim stopped. Zya reined her horse in beside her father's. “From here on I think we must be cautious, Zya. This is the ideal length from the village for anyone of dubious intent to hide out.” Zya looked around, slightly confused; her father noticed. He pointed to the dirt track. “You see those ruts in the dirt on that sharp corner there? They have been left by wagon drivers who seem in a hurry to get some place. Of course, we have just come from that some place and know it to be quite far away. So why would they have need to hurry so? It seems we are just far enough from town for no alarm to be raised, and this location makes an ideal ambush. The corner there is probably taken so fast and at such a tight angle because the drivers know this as well as any bandits.”
Zya looked from the road to her father. “How do you know all of this, Father? I knew you for a fair tracker, but that is a bit too much for one who has never been here before.” She stared at her father for a moment and eventually he raised his arms in defeat.
“Okay, okay. Jaden mentioned this area to me a couple of days ago. I'll be damned to the halls of fire if I can keep a secret from you, Zya.”
She glared at him for a second then hit him hard on the shoulder. “You should have learned by now you can't keep anything from me, father.”
Tarim passed her a package over. “Take this, but try not to use it unless you absolutely have to.”
Zya unwound the twine around it to find a finely crafted dagger with sheathe and belt. “Father,” she gasped, “This is beautiful! Where ever did you get it?
Tarim glanced at the dagger. “It was mine from when I was younger and a bit more reckless in my ways. I had it packaged and kept in storage in one of the wagons until I felt need of it again. You have no weapon per , unless you count your perceptiveness, and I thought maybe it was time that you had a more obvious means of defence. Especially with what has been happening recently. We never know when you will go charging off on some foolhardy attack.” Tarim chuckled quietly as they urged their horses into a trot. “Let us hope old Red there never thinks he has a better idea than you when charging at an armed attacker.”
Zya blushed, turning away so her father didn't see it. In truth, once she had calmed down from the events of that day, she had quickly accepted that her actions were foolhardy to say the least. Zya was prepared to accept any amount of gentle joking from her makeshift family. However, since that day, this was the first gentle rebuke she had been given by her father. He had never needed harsh words for her as she always learnt her lessons well. Despite this she was still upset when he did correct her in his gentle manner, as she knew he was disappointed; but she would never let on and neither would he. It was their way.
As they rode by the fields and woods of the area, Zya belted her blade and unsheathed it. The dagger caught fire in the afternoon sunlight, the polished blade reflecting the sun's rays as she turned it and tested its feel. “Father, this is magnificent; it is as if it fits my palm perfectly.”
Tarim turned from loosening his sword in its scabbard. “It was much the same for me dear. I cannot explain it, but it was as if it became part of me. A deadly weapon, but its beauty offsets the deadliness of the blade.”
“Where did you come across such a dagger?” asked Zya.
Her father pursed his lips as he recollected memories long gone. “It was somewhere up the western banks of the Hotiari, around the edge of the Merdon forest. I was out for trade with the northern people who come down to the forest to camp and trade with the surrounding populace. They were always welcome in the city, but chose to remain outside. This particular band of them chose to stay especially far from the city boundaries, but they had the best goods to trade.” Tarim looked lost, as if the memory he was recalling was happening this instant.
“I had been brushing my horse down after a long day's ride and a flicker caught my eye; a glint of metal from within a bush at the side of the road. I thought to myself that someone had dropped it on their way South, but then I walked towards it and it disappeared. For a few long moments I searched to find it, and could see nothing. I gave up, thinking it to be a trick of the mind, for it was late in the day, and resumed caring for my horse. I turned away, and the flicker of bright metal caught my attention again. I could see it shining from within the bush I had just all but uprooted in my quest to seek out the source of this distracting glint. As I again moved towards it, something unusual happened. I must have slipped, or stumbled perhaps, because it disappeared again, but when I righted myself it was still there. I stepped to the left, and to the right and the glint went away, but back on my original line it stayed in view.”
Tarim's breath quickened, as must have happened when this originally occurred. “I moved directly towards the bush, never straying. The glint got stronger as I neared. I reached into the bush to the source of the metal, and cut my hand on a razor sharp edge.” Tarim held up his sword hand and turned it so the palm faced Zya. A faint line, almost spider-web thin and nearly white bisected his hand between his wedding and middle fingers all the way down to the heel of his hand. “I don't know who lost that dagger, Zya. Nor do I profess to know why I was the one who found it, but it is deadly if used in battle. I have never seen it's equal.”
Zya held the dagger much mor
e gingerly for her father's recollections, but it still seemed part of her hand. “I will endeavour to take great care of it, Father.”
Tarim nodded. “The sheathe and belt I made not long after. It's funny, but I would have thought the leather would have cracked by now. Yet it is still as supple as the day I tanned it.”
Zya sheathed the dagger, noting how despite its razor's edge, it hardly touched the leather. “Are we likely to need the weapons, Father?”
Tarim smiled his dark, mysterious smile. “I hope not. Always remember what I have taught you. Fight only when there is no other possible option left to you. The smartest fighter is the one who lasts the longest, and not the one who fights the most battles. As for this place, you never know what to expect, but I have heard from the mistress that it is a fairly decent settlement, if a bit out of the way. They see themselves as important as they hold one of the few bridges on the upper part of the Boarsrush, but they do not let that fact go to their heads. They also adhere strictly to the old Law, so we should not have a problem offloading our attackers.” Tarim muttered to himself, “I honestly do not know what would have been a worse idea; killing them or letting them live.”
Zya did not presume to know why her father talked like that, but she knew what she would have done given the choice. She became more preoccupied with the surrounding land. Now there were the occasional building and outhouse on the side of the road, as well as farm animals. There was no sign of people, for although they would welcome the tinkers with open arms, they were much more wary of a couple of travellers on horseback this far from anywhere. A dog came out to bark at them from behind the fence line of one of the farms they passed, losing interest when it got no response from the travellers. They rode on in silence as they neared the edge of the town. The track was wide here and well used. There were even a couple of locals who stopped to gaze slack jawed at the pair on horseback.
“We will head towards the centre of the village, because that is most likely where the most important people will be stationed.” Tarim almost whispered. “In places like these the populace grows around those who wield the power, and that is most likely the body of people in charge. Rarely does a mayoral figure have overall power in such a backwater populace.” While her father instructed her more on the protocols and lifestyles of the people of this region, Zya kept a watch on the people they passed. Encounters were more frequent as they rode on; the people not saying anything, but rather than the fearful look the individuals gave them these just watched steadily. Zya assumed they felt more comfortable being amongst others and from that derived confidence. Zya found her father knew an incredible amount about people in general. He told her while safety and food was paramount to people such as these, the majority who lived in the large cities she had never visited were ruled by one thing. Greed. What anyone had, they wanted.
The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1) Page 9