The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  A moment later, and O'Bellah strode purposefully out of the tent with the entrance held open for him. Something followed him, and whatever it was hulked beneath a cloak. The gathered crowd hushed and watched. Jani and Gwyn set themselves up on a goods cart, out of the way of the main gathering, but easily close enough to hear whatever O'Bellah had to say.

  It was rumoured that he employed magic in many mundane ways, something both men remembered Zya commenting on when they had but recently departed from Hoebridge, the place they had first heard the name “O'Bellah”. Such mundane magic would allow him to easily sway a crowd such as this, when brute force could not make them fear him. The man strode up onto a platform with the cloaked figure and Thrasher to each side, and stood gazing over the crowd. Now completely silent, men crowded closely against one another, feeling uneasy. Even the biggest amongst them had a feeling that they only wanted to hide from the eyes in front of them. Even away from the crowd, Jani and Gwyn felt uneasy.

  Jani looked at his companion and lifelong friend, and bent his head close. “Can you feel it?” he whispered, barely louder than the shuffling feet of all the men in front of them.

  Gwyn nodded, slowly, afraid that his movement would give him away. “There is something afoot here, and it reeks of evil.” Both men sat in silence behind the crates on the cart with only the slightest view of what was happening. They did not need to be in full view of everything to understand what was happening though. Every time they glanced in the direction of the cloaked being on the platform, they quailed. It was clear that they were not the focus of that creature's gaze. It was looking at the men in front of it, bringing them under its evil influence.

  After a long pause in which men shuddered as the cloaked one looked around them, O'Bellah stepped forward. “Finally, the time has arrived to tell you of our purpose.” He stared around for a moment; to be sure the fear that had been directed at the cloaked being was now transferred to him.

  “You have been chosen because you share a common interest in the fate of the world as we know it. For long seasons now, the so -called messengers of the Gods have walked amongst us, with their secret ways and their hidden magics, and preached to us about love and sharing, and selflessness. What many call the Old Law.” For emphasis, O'Bellah spat on the ground at his feet.

  “These so-called guildsmen – ordermen, call them what you like, have denied us a way of living that we should have reached out and claimed for ourselves long ago. How many of you have underfed children with barely the rags on their back because you have been told that it is unfair to keep too much or make too much money?” At that, many of the assembled men grumbled out loud in agreement. O'Bellah nodded in reply, walking around the platform, and looking at the men as he did so.

  “We are here to see an end to the sham that is the Old Law! We are here to march after those who deny us our rights!” Hearing this, many of the men shouted again. Whereas before they would have most likely taken a beating for such outbursts, O'Bellah encouraged them now.

  “There are those who need to be caught, that they cannot poison our lives with such words any more. They must be removed from this life and sent onto the next! Let them plague the lives of those who live another existence, we do not need them here!”

  Gwyn and Jani looked at each other in horror. The man was working the soldiers into a bloodthirsty mob. A silent moment passed before them, and they knew that they had to get themselves and their companions away from what could soon get very ugly. They edged stealthily off the wagon, and using the rapidly growing shadows as an ally, made their way back. Something compelled them to stop though, and they looked at where O'Bellah was exhorting the crowd around him into a huge mass of rage and viciousness.

  “Come, step upon the platform, warriors all, and pledge yourselves to the agent of the merchant prince, who commands us all!”

  With that the cloaked figure took a step forward, dropping the garment that covered it. It suddenly hulked to twice the size it had been before, and loomed a darker black against the ever-darkening sky behind it to the East. A torch that had been lit gleamed against its skin, reflecting the light, as would a polished stone. Whatever that creature was, surely it was not human. It was all they could do to look in its direction, but the men near the platform now seemed oblivious to the intense evil that swirled above them.

  One by one, the men rose to the platform to lay a hand on the creature. As each did, they screamed in anguish, while the creature seemed to shiver in ecstasy. Mesmerised by the strange ceremony, the two men watched as the bizarre ritual continued, moving gradually nearer. It was only when Gwyn caught his leg on a nail sticking out of a wooden crate that the pain brought him back to his senses. He slapped Jani on the back and his friend shook himself as if awaking.

  “This is bad. We need to get out of here, NOW! They are going to kill everyone the way that they are going.” As one, they turned and ran, not noticing or even caring if they were being watched.

  The rest of the camp was deserted, save for the captured farmers and villagers who had given up. Jani and Gwyn tore through them like a whirlwind, telling them to get out of there, or to hide if they could. Most ignored them, merely sitting back down in their individual states of misery. A few rose though, and gathered what they could. Jani ran for his wife, while Gwyn found Venla back by the cook sheds. When he explained what they had seen she looked concerned, but when he got to the creature's description, her face went pale, even in the light of the fire.

  “Describe to me what you saw, in as much detail as you are able,” Venla said quietly, even as she packed food.

  “Yes mistress. The creature was not much bigger than a man, but when it shed its cloak and hood it seemed to grow more massive even as we watched it. Fire reflected off of its skin, which appeared to be as hard as rock. It was dark, but the creature seemed darker, darker than night, even.”

  “Its eyes?” Venla asked. “Could you see them?”

  “I could not, mistress, for I could hardly look at it. The feeling I got from looking at it turned my stomach, and made me want to run away and hide. It just felt evil.”

  Venla put a hand to her mouth. “A golem”, she said in a voice that indicated her fear. She came to herself suddenly. “The others?”

  “On their way, as are a few other people, but most are content to sit there.

  Venla shook her head. “That is their choice. They do not truly want to be saved. Let us get as far away from here as soon as we can. You are sure the guards are at the platform?”

  “Yes, mistress. Aside from this group of people and the soldiers massed at the platform, the camp is deserted. That ceremony of theirs is likely to take half the night.”

  Venla nodded, and went to where the rest of the people were gathered. A few more had got up, but not many. There must have been three or four score sitting there.

  “You fools, do you not see that you are going to die if you sit here?” Venla said. A few looked up to take notice, but most just ignored her, paralysed with fear. Venla considered saying something else, but thought better of it. Jani and Ramaji were at the far side of the slaves' enclave, as everyone who lived there had known it. There were a few more people with them, those who were prepared to go, but had stayed long enough to gather provisions. They would get much further than those who had decided that blind panic would serve them best and had just run.

  Jani and Ramaji had done likewise, and gathered some items of food – the less perishable things such as meal and smoked meat. These had been bundled up, and the bundles were distributed amongst the four of them. Shouldering her pack, Venla did not stop to listen to the noise that was growing behind them as the soldiers joined with the Golem, if that was what the creature was.

  The noise was near deafening. She led those who were willing out of the camp, and then turned due North. The army might expect them to run in a straight direction. Venla was determined to use caravan lore to keep them off of her back for as long as possible.

&
nbsp; Nobody spoke, not that anybody needed to. Most were as frightened as pursued rabbits, and hastened forward; to be caught by Venla's gaze, so determined was she to see them safe, she refused by looks alone to let any of them resort to blind panic – member of her caravan or not.

  Only once did someone speak that night, a large man in a cloak, who stooped as if elderly, but seemed to manage well enough. “Where are we headed?” he asked in a feeble voice.

  “The Gods willing, to safety,” she replied.

  At some point in the night a huge roar from behind them broke the silence of the night-time countryside. It was so dark Venla could not make out faces, but she knew that at least a couple of them had bolted at that sound, and it would do them no good to go floundering off in the dark after them. They made their way by the moonlight, wrapped in all the clothes that they had, trying to ward off the cold of the persistent North breeze. Luckily, the countryside was easily traversed, and they were able to make good time. They were afraid to stop; not surprising considering what was likely to be coming up behind them. Eventually though, they had to stop, as rest and fatigue was overtaking all of them. Venla led them all to the lee side of a dry stone wall, and there they all fell into a cold, fear-numbed sleep.

  She awoke to the same slate-grey overcast sky that dominated the region during the cold season. She was thankful for the wall, as she felt almost warm despite the sapping chill of the stone. Looking around, she counted heads. Seven, including her, which meant that they had lost five more since their escape from the camp. She looked at the other three. The big man was still wrapped up in his cloak but his eyes were alert, scanning the area. The two women, not much more than girls, were huddled together with their eyes closed, teeth chattering. By the looks of them they were sisters. Their hair was dark, though not as dark as the descriptions that had been given out of Zya and Tarim. Jani and Ramaji sat together holding hands. Venla had to applaud their commitment to whatever blows fate dealt them – they were ever stalwart in the face of adversity, and they had left two daughters behind as well.

  Gwyn was beside her, on his knees looking about for any sign of pursuit. “Is it safe?” Venla asked quietly.

  “It seems to be. There are no signs of recent tracks, and no noises, apart from that of a winter's morning on this great plain.” That was confirmation enough.

  “Let us go then, and eat as we may as we walk.” Venla scanned the horizon. To the north there was a slight rise to some low hills, and she set off in that direction.

  “What about us?” called the man whom she did not know.

  Venla turned as she walked. “Forgive me for sounding selfish, sir, but I am not your leader. I am going this way, and whoever wants to accompany me can do so, but you do not have to. We are out of the camp, but not out of danger. You may feel that your best route to freedom lies other than with us, but if you chose to accompany us, feel welcome, but come now. I am as tired as anybody here, but there is a more primal urge than that. We are all feeling it, so make your choice.”

  The old man grumbled and glared at her, but she had already turned to continue walking – every step further away from that camp. Venla could not understand why she had spoken so harshly to the man, but there was something about him that made her edgy. She continued without turning around. When she did sneak a peek, she saw with a tinge of regret that the man was following her, but was also relived to see that the two young women were keeping up.

  The line of hills grew to be a little more than the low-lying series of bumps. Evidently, there was more shape to the grass plains of Ciaharr than they had previously thought. Even the maps that they had carried in the caravan mentioned nothing of any hills in the middle of the countryside. Venla wondered what else the cartographers had missed out, and whether or not they had purposefully done so.

  The next few days had them trooping towards the hills. Supplied by the rations they had brought, meagre though they were, they were nonetheless nourishing, and supplemented by water found in low lying streams, they made good enough time, which in all honesty was not that great. Venla kept them going with her good spirits though, and the man, who was called Patrick, and the two girls, Betsy and Wilhelmina became less estranged and more a part of the group.

  Patrick was still grumpy towards Venla for the hard choice she had forced upon him, but he was at least civil to everybody, even if he kept to himself. The girls were also often silent, and obviously still scared. They had every right to be. Just because there were no soldiers dogging their heels, it did not mean that they weren't out there. This fact was a constant reminder to keep their guard up, and above the growl of their stomachs at night they swore they heard voices on the wind. Eventually though, they did make the hills, starting to climb them through a low swathe of woodland. Exposed though they were, they did linger long enough for Jani and Gwyn to set some rabbit snares and catch enough to supplement all of their meals with fresh meat.

  “I thought you travelling tinkers abhorred meat and only ate fruits and nuts as you travelled,” grunted Patrick one night as they were preparing the stew. Venla rounded on him.

  “How little you know and how much you presume,” she replied tartly. She did not like that man. That led Jani and Ramaji to explain their ways to the old man, who claimed that he had once been a farmer in these parts, and was wandering from village to village when he was rounded up. He treated their patient explanations with ill-judged slurs and sarcasm.

  Away from the cook fire, Venla approached Gwyn. “What do you make of Patrick?”

  He stood from his chore of breaking down deadwood for the fire, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, squeezing it as he considered. “He has no love for you, that is sure. There is something around his eyes that says I should know him or something about him.” He looked over to the fire where Patrick had goaded Jani into a debate, which was really more of an argument, and shrugged. “Maybe he's just a crotchety old man.”

  “Maybe, but keep an eye on him. I try not to get suspicious of any person, but there is something about him that just screams out a warning to me. But let us forget that for now, and instead talk about where we should walk. You have opinions?”

  Gwyn nodded. “I do, mistress. I know by the way you look at these hills that you are considering crossing them, but I urge you to think about going round as an alternative. This constant breeze; the continual wind that pushes against us, will be much worse higher up, and we are tired and weak as it is. It also exposes us in plain sight to any who might be looking.”

  “You are right, or course, my dearest Gwyn,” Venla agreed. “But you know my reasons for taking us straight up over the hills.”

  “I know them, mother and I respect them. You would have us as far away from that army as possible, to keep us safe, as you would any caravan of people. We respect that, and I am sure that the others would appreciate it too, no matter what they said.” Gwyn did not speak of what he meant, but it was clear to both of them that problems had always arisen from Patrick.

  Venla hugged herself against the chill, wrapping her woollen blanket tighter around her. “We will stay in the trees then, though it might benefit us to go above the tree line occasionally to have a look at what is there. Have you a preference for east or West?”

  “West, for it was the way that we were going, to what ends I no longer know.” Venla sighed, melancholy threatening to overcome her as she remembered how much she had lost. “There was no hidden agenda, my son. We were but a caravan of travellers plying our trade across country as our Gods willed and as our kind have always done. We would have one day returned home. We may still get there, but it will no longer be as straightforward, and definitely not as easy.”

  Gwyn smiled. “I had always wondered – we had always wondered, not always being privy to the knowledge the mistresses learned.”

  They stood there in silent reflection, remembering a place that so long ago had been called home. A town full of people like them; always ready to aid their neighbours, and all
charged with the task that someday they would venture into the world to serve the Old law. They remembered the mountains that drew almost protectively around them, snow-peaked all year around. This place and situation was so different. No protection, and only luck keeping them alive for the moment.

  Gwyn looked around the woods. They were not thick, but the trees huddled around the southern flank of these hills – again something shaped by the never-ending wind. “When shall we set out?”

  “Give it until the morning and let everybody get some rest. Let us hope that we find somewhere populated. We are not going to be safe until we do.”

  * * *

  For a few days, they made their way steadily through the woods of the hill's southern flank, surviving on what they could find growing and living within. Even with the chill of the winter breeze, the woods were still beautiful to Venla. The evergreens reduced the light but gave comfort. They trudged slowly along a track on the side of the hill, which dropped as sharply away to their left as it rose to the right. The muddy track was well hidden, and their footprints disturbed grass only.

  For a while, Venla was sure they were the only beings in this part of the world, until she saw shapes flitting through the sunlight up slope from them. She stood still, fearing to move. The others eventually saw her and did as she did. Looking up, it was difficult to see what was up there. The thick boles of the evergreens prevented nearly all of the light getting through.