The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  “I do, councillor Alander. They are my friends; friends such as I have never had before. I want to go with them to protect them.”

  Alander chuckled. “You would make a fine guard already. Men would shrink in terror at your approach.” Zya could see already what was happening here. They had decided that Ju would go with them, and for that she was thankful. But they had to be sure it was what he really wanted. He was clever, but he was still a child, if barely.

  For his part, Ju knew he was being teased, and dug his heels in. “I am not too small. I can learn how to guard from the other guards. And I can help with the horses.”

  “You know we follow closely the old Law, Ju,” said Layric with caution in his voice. “A growing boy might not agree with all we stand by.”

  The boy frowned back at them, as if they were trying to block him at every turn. This only seemed to strengthen his resolve, as if he knew he had a wedge in the door. All he had to do now was open it. “If looking after horses and my friends is how you do it, then I will do anything else you want. Just please let me come with you.” As he said this he looked imploringly at Layric, as if recognising him as the leading figure that needed swaying.

  Layric smiled and reached out to gently turn him to his wife. “Before you can come with us, young Ju, you must learn one thing. It is not I who you need to convince, it is my wife. The mistress of the caravan has the final say in everything.”

  Ju's imploring looked flickered between Layric and Venla, before settling on Venla. “I am not afraid of working to earn my keep. I would do anything.”

  Venla reached to take hold of the boy's two hands, turning them over so she could look carefully at them. “I can see from what you have done over the past few weeks that you are not afraid of a little hard work, but can you also learn what we have to teach you? You would not only have to learn the way of the travellers, but you would also learn what any of us deem necessary to teach you. Could you cope with that, Ju?”

  “I can learn, and I will learn. I will make you proud of me, Mistress, I really will.”

  Venla looked towards the two councillors. “He has great determination. A sense of will and purpose I have rarely seen in a child.” Ju's face darkened at being called a child, but Zya suspected that none aside from her had seen that.

  “I think such determination is a merit and should be rewarded,” said Melgar, appraising the boy. “What think you Alander?”

  Alander scrutinised the boy as everyone else had. “I think he might grow up to become a great councillor should he stay here. What do you think, boy? Would you like to be a councillor?” Zya saw the sudden breath Ju took; all in the village dreamed of becoming a councillor and earning the respect of their peers.

  “That would be nice,” replied a wistful Ju, “but I want to go with my friends. I want to stay with them.”

  Alander looked up from Ju towards Venla and Layric. “It is every child's dream to eventually sit on the council. If young Ju here would rather go with you and forsake his dream, then that is eagerness enough for me. What say you, Melgar?”

  Melgar paused for thought, in the way that had become so typical of him. “Any child would be wise to want to pursue a life other than our council, Alander. Especially with the way things will soon be, my friend. Ju, what do you know of O'Bellah?”

  Ju looked hesitant, as if he did not want to answer the question in front of all these people. “I… I thought he was a very wise and kind man, but I once saw a look in his eyes that made me cold. It scared me. I think he can to bad things to people with a look like that.”

  “Then you know more of that man than most of the people in this village, young Ju,” answered Melgar. “Would he be amongst your reasons for wishing to leave?”

  Ju again looked hesitant, to Zya he looked unsure as to whether an answer to this question would land him in trouble. Melgar chuckled, seeing the boys' uncertainty. “It is okay, Ju. We are on your side and feel the same way about him. We just want to be sure that fear is not your reason for leaving.”

  “I don't like the man, but I am not scared of him – only that one time when I saw his eyes was I scared. I am going to protect my friends.”

  Upon hearing this, Melgar bowed to Venla. “Mistress of the caravan, I commend this boy Ju to your company. He is an orphan of the town, so he will leave no ties here. But I pray, be gone swiftly, for you now remain here at your peril. Your guests have a week left before we must release them, and we have had messengers return this very morning. O'Bellah is less than a week away. Gather your things and depart while you still can.”

  Zya reached towards Ju to give him a quick hug, but he was off in a flash. As he ran towards the centre of the village he shouted back to her. “I must get my things. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  With the newest addition to the group so suddenly disappearing again, the rest of them saw to the packing. It was really no matter for them to sort themselves out. Zya had marvelled at how quietly efficient they were when she had first seen it as a child. Each person dealt with certain chores. It was much the same for a nightly camp. Except that signs of such a prolonged visit could not be easily removed. Alander and Melgar watched as the semi-permanent camp uprooted itself in a matter of minutes. “We would provide help to see that all traces of your visit were removed before O'Bellah gets back, but I do not think it would matter one way or the other,” Melgar said to Venla, who was overseeing the upheaval, if such supervision were needed at all.

  Venla smiled and reached to take Melgar's hand in both of hers. “You have done too much already, councillor. Besides, we know that we cannot leave without leaving at least some trace; all of the people in this village know we have been here, and most of them have spoken to us.”

  Melgar looked down the road towards the centre of town, where he could see several figures gathered. It was Frilzae and several of his followers. The fiery young councillor obviously had yet another plan to ruin the village. “There are those who would cause trouble anyway, those loyal to O'Bellah and his ruinous ways.”

  Venla followed his gaze, to where the men were walking, with some evident purpose, to the paddock that the travellers were now in. Frilzae appeared as red faced and zealous as ever when he stormed into the paddock with his rag-tag band of followers behind him. “I demand these people be held here for O'Bellah's judgement,” he snarled at the three people.

  “Why, Frilzae?” asked Melgar. “What ever have they done except provide services that were sorely needed by members of this village? Do you have any reasoning behind what you are saying? Any just cause why we should not let them travel on their way?”

  Frilzae glared at the larger man. “O'Bellah may want things done. They have serviced the rest of the village, now let them service him!”

  Melgar spread his hands in a gesture of dismissal. “I am sorry, Frilzae, but O'Bellah is not here, else he would have had the chance to have his frequently used pots mended, or the sheets he uses so well, darned.”

  Zya betrayed her normal sensibilities by smirking slightly. She had heard many tales about how this man had never once cooked a meal, and refused to sleep in the same set of sheets for two nights in a row. This led to a bustling trade in linen, and snide ridicule when the man's agents, who seemed to be everywhere, were not present. Zya's smirk had not gone unnoticed by her father. He caught her eye and she noticed the barest glint of a warning in his, but not of reproof for her facial expression. Something else was amiss here. She glanced back to the arguing men and caught Frilzae's eyes on her. He looked her up and down for a second, letting his eyes again linger where they should not have been. Frilzae licked his lips nervously as he turned back to the two other councillors. “Nevertheless, they are to remain here until O'Bellah returns, so that he may judge if they are needed.”

  “I am sorry, but that will not happen, young man and you know it,” answered Alander. “There is not a law you can quote that I will not be able to recall, and you know that also. These people are
allowed to go for the simple reason that nobody has any right to stop them, least of all an upstart like you who should have never been elected a councillor in the first place!”

  Frilzae stood toe to toe with Alander, red-faced and sweating. “You old fool, you should have let them stay. Live with your old Law while you still can, for it won't help you for long. O'Bellah is going to ban all practice and beliefs in the old Law for the entire region! He will replace them with a set of better laws – laws, which are relevant. You will see that you should not have crossed me when he returns, I promise you.” As before, he stormed off with his set of lackeys trailing him. With nothing more to be said about the incident, Alander and Melgar wished the group a safe journey and hurried after the retreating group of antagonists, hoping to prevent further mishap caused by Frilzae.

  Knowing that their apparent safety depended on them leaving with relative speed, the entire group worked with a renewed sense of purpose. Zya helped her father check the horses, who were all eager to move on. Even the normally docile draft horses were stomping hooves eager to be off. Zya calmed Red with a gentle rub of the nose when he nudged her as she passed. She knew that the horses could sense what was going on as much as anyone. These were a particularly intelligent group of horses that knew safety meant movement. All the while Zya grew concerned about where Ju was. He had only to go back to the square to retrieve his things and come back, but as time wore on and they neared a state where they were ready to leave and his delayed appearance worried her. She could see that only the horses needed tacking up, so she went looking for her father. She found him checking the axle he had recently repaired with Layric. He smiled as she approached. “Ready to undertake the next leg of our journey, my daughter?”

  “Not quite yet father. Ju has not returned from the stables behind the inn. I am going to go look for him.”

  Tarim got up from his inspection, brushing the dirt from his clothes. “Are you sure that is a wise choice? He may yet turn up.”

  Zya frowned at the thought of waiting. “He has been too long, father. I think there is a reason he has been taking his time and I intend to find out. Something is not right.”

  “Well at least take Jaden or Cahal with you for protection from this unseen danger,” Tarim countered. “They could be really useful to have around if something is wrong.”

  Zya shook her head again. “You know they are needed here. I know I am needed here too, but I am of less use if some sort of scuffle breaks out as a result of what that slimy councillor said. It would be quicker and less noticed were I to go have a look on my own.”

  Tarim looked dubious as he gazed in the direction of the distant street and square beyond it. “Go on then, but be careful. Any trouble that young boy could have got himself into could easily extend to include you. I'll finish off Red for you. Be quick.”

  Zya gave her father a nod of acknowledgement, and then walked briskly off in the direction where she had last seen Ju. As she walked down the street, evidence of the travellers' work could be plainly seen. A straightened fence, or pots hung in windows where they had previously been slung out as useless. The most satisfaction had come in the bushes being torn apart by angry parents when they had learned what the berries were for. It amazed Zya that many of them, despite living in such rural conditions, did not see the bright red colour as a natural warning sign – one of the first things her father had taught her. Zya had been surprised to hear little from anyone about the bushes. After they had spoken to the councillors about the matter it had always been on the edge of conversation, but never a major issue. She felt there was a lot of silent resentment towards O'Bellah for introducing the bushes to the community, but never any open remarks. It seemed that the councillors' pledge to keep issues away from the rest of the village had not been as successful as they had hoped.

  Of course there was still Frilzae. Zya resented the leering stares she got from the man every time he saw her, but at the same time she felt sorry for him. He would never amount to much if all he wanted was power in a small village. At least with a group of travellers she would experience more than the four main streets and one square that Hoebridge had to offer. Of course that was not to belittle the rest of the people. Most were content to live their farming lives in peace, free of such machinations. But those that sought to rise above others were power greedy, and upset the balance of the community. They were not right in such a place as this.

  She noticed the occasional flicker of the curtain as she walked down the road. It seemed that people had retreated into their shells in preparation for the homecoming of O'Bellah. Zya realised that she had not had much experience of being afraid. These people seemed to live it on a regular basis. It was not a good way to live, but Zya knew she was powerless to do anything about it. Maybe one day she would be able to. She looked around as she walked into the square. It was pretty much deserted, only the road sweeper with his broom of fine twigs and sticks was around. He was off in his own world and didn't even notice the pretty young woman across the road. She started towards the inn, hoping to find a clue as to where Ju had been when something crashed into her from out of nowhere, almost knocking her off of her feet.

  When Zya pushed back at the small tangle of arms that were trying to hold on to her, she saw that it was Nicola, one of the younger girls from the village, who had had a close call with the berries. The pretty young girl stared up at Zya with luminous round eyes. The eyes were brimming with tears. Zya brushed the girl's hair back from her face. “Nicola, what is it?”

  Nicola's lip trembled as she managed to speak. “Th…The boys were chasing Ju. I saw them. He was screaming at them to leave him alone, but they kept chasing him and throwing things at him. I screamed at them to stop and then they threw things at me too. They chased him behind the stables just now.” Having managed to get all this out, the little girl started sobbing.

  Zya brushed her hair soothingly. “It's all right Nicola, you did well in telling me this.”

  Nicola looked back up. “Will you help him? Will you?”

  “Yes, of course I will help him,” Zya replied, fingering the tip of the dagger's hilt. “He will be all right. You just go back inside where it is safe. Lock the door, as we wouldn't want any of them coming in would we?” The girl shook her head, then bolted off in the direction of her house. Zya looked in the direction of the entrance to the backyard. There were muffled sounds coming from beyond, but that could have been a noise made by the horses. Feeling somewhat angry that she had let Ju go back at all, she stepped quietly and carefully through the entrance.

  The scene was one of mass confusion. One boy lay doubled over with the shaft of one of Tarim's softwood arrows protruding from between his two hands, another was practising archery against the side of the stables, laughing uproariously whenever the impact of an arrow made the horses panic. The large fellow who had thought he could impress Zya with his size had his back to her, and had hold of the struggling form of Ju. Zya had thought the boy to be nearer her age, but if he was concerned with the goings on of one barely older then a child, her assessment of him must have been off.

  She was not close enough to hear what he was saying to Ju, but Ju was trying for all he was worth to scream. He was not having much success, as his attacker must have had one meaty hand clamped firmly over his mouth. The other was occupied with keeping Ju from lashing out; that much was clear. The whole scene infuriated Zya in a way she had rarely experienced. It went against everything she had been taught by the travellers that these boys should be treating another like game on a hunt, let alone one the size of Ju. She looked quickly around the yard and back through the entrance, to see if there was anybody she could call to for help. It was typical that there was nobody around in a village full of people when she really needed some help. Zya decided on the spur of the moment that she had to help Ju on her own rather than let some dire fate befall him. She was angry enough to know that she would have gone in there barehanded if the need was necessary. As it was, sh
e had strapped the dagger her father had given her to her belt for the first time in weeks; riding off towards the dark woods over the river gave her enough cause, even if there were guards and a small pack of dogs to contend with. She pulled the blade from its sheath, and immediately Zya felt a kind of clarity come over her, as if her anger had given the dull blade a razor's edge. She knew exactly how she would handle this situation.

  The air seemed clearer as she walked silently up behind the thug holding Ju. The boy with the bow seemed more intent on causing further panic within the stables and did not notice as she stealthily approached the other from the rear. As she closed on him, Zya could hear the heavy breathing as the larger boy exerted effort to hold the smaller boy. Clearly Ju was a handful, for which she was proud of him for. Ju tried to yell through the hand clamped over his mouth, which only made his attacker try to crush him more. “See that, you little whelp?” he said as he turned slightly towards the other boy. “We are going to string you up and do exactly that to you. You hurt him bad and we are going to do the same to you.” Ju screamed under the hand and resumed his struggling with intense effort. He managed to get a leg free, and back-heeled the thug between the legs, causing him to drop Ju, but not to let go of him.

  Time seemed to slow for Zya, as the thug raised his hand to strike Ju. At the same time the other boy finally gave up on his archery and noticed that Zya was behind the boy holding Ju. Ju stood there paralysed in fright. As Ju's assailant's hand reached the zenith of its back swing, the other boy shouted out, Ju noticed Zya, and Zya grabbed the hand meant for Ju, twisting it behind the older boy's back. Before he could react, Zya shoved the point of the blade into the small of his back. “Easy now, big man,” she cautioned, “Wouldn't want me to accidentally lean any more towards you. YOU!” Zya looked at the boy with the bow, “Put that down and lie on the floor with your hands behind your back, or your friend here will have a hole where he shouldn't have.” The older boys, almost men, seemed to have been used to pushing the smaller people around, as they were themselves in a near state of shock at someone doing to them what they were so used to doing to others.