“Well… uh… without being too blunt,” Daric said. “‘Never presume’ means be respectful and wait, or ask permission.”
“Oh!” Gialyn felt a hot flush rising from his neck. And at the same time, his mouth felt as dry as the road. Oh no. Gods, get me out of this, quickly!
He answered his father with a simple “I see” and quickly looked over at the river… at the sky… at his feet… at the bush drooping sidelong against the edge of the path, anywhere but at Daric.
Daric opened his mouth to continue. But, thankfully, his attention was drawn towards something he had seen further along the road.
“Is that Grady up there?” Daric asked, cupping his hands around his eyes to have a better look.
Gialyn squinted, and then, after silently praising the gods for the timely change of subject, he laughed. “Yes, I think it is. Come to say goodbye. That’s good of him.”
“He’s not come to say good-bye,” Gialyn said. “There’s a backpack on the ground next to him.”
Daric stopped and stared, with one fist on his hip and other rubbing his chin. “Where is he going?”
The crease of a smile curled Gialyn’s lip. He knew the reason Grady had his pack with him – or at least he hoped he did. Please, gods, let him be coming! Please, gods, let him be coming!
The thought kept repeating as they made their way to the fork in the road. If nothing else, Grady’s presence would keep his father off his back. No more awkward talks, hopefully.
* * *
Why was Grady waiting at the fork in the road?
That’s a stupid question, Daric thought. You know well and good why he is here.
But before he could reach the man to verify his suspicion, he noticed the cart which had been ahead of them had stopped at the side of the road. The driver was standing by the wheel on the far side, mallet in one hand, scratching his head with the other. He looked puzzled and in a dim mood.
Daric gave him a nod. “Is everything all right?”
The driver shook his head and made a face which said, “No, everything was not all right.” “The cotter pin is split. Nothing I can do here but shore it up. I’ll have to go back and fetch Gobin.”
“He was at the canal half an hour ago, shoeing one of the pit ponies,” Daric told the man.
“Oh, thank you… Daric, is it?”
“Yes, Daric Re’adh.” Daric made the customary shallow bow.
“Harnon Gaulman.” The cart man put his hand to his chest and returned Daric’s greeting. “The canal, you say. Good, at least I don’t have to walk all the way back to Albergeddy.”
Daric nodded again. “Glad to help, friend.”
He waved Gialyn on.
Grady was standing at the fork where the Alber Road met the Baralan Trail. Hands behind his back and grinning quite brazenly, Daric thought.
“And what’s all this?” Daric asked, pointing at the pack resting against Grady’s leg. “Are you coming all the way to Bailryn? Or just taking a few days off?”
Grady chortled. “Ah, so you figured me out. You didn’t think I would let you have all the fun? And yes, I’m going all the way.”
“You can’t just pick up and leave,” Daric said.
But he had to admit, the thought of another adult joining their group made his was a welcome relief. He had his doubts over managing three children by himself. More than doubts; the thought had terrified him.
Daric continued, “But what about work? Your home! What abo—?”
“Slow down,” Grady interrupted. “Everything is in order. The new man, Arlen, is staying at my house and taking on some of my shifts at the canal. He was happy to help; good man, that Arlen.
“I asked Tanner for some time off,” Grady continued, “and when I told him what I had in mind, he all but pushed me out the door. Seemed taken with the idea of some extra muscle, what with his daughter coming along.” Grady leaned back and folded his arms. Waiting for a response, Daric thought. The man looked nervous.
“If you’re sure,” Daric said.
Grady’s smile faded. “To be honest, I could do with a change of scenery. Things have gone a bit… stale of late; too much one-thing-running-into-another, like I’m living the same day over and over. Why not take a trip, get away for a while? I thought. That’s if it’s all right with you. It is, isn’t it?” Again, he folded his arms, waiting for approval.
Daric wondered why; the man did not need his permission to join them.
“Are you joking?” he said. “I would have paid you myself if I had the money.” He leaned forward and clapped Grady on the shoulders, confident the grin on his face would tell his friend exactly what he thought of the idea. “I think it wi—”
CRACK!
Daric spun towards the noise, instinctively placing a hand on the hilt of his dagger.
He released the blade immediately, though, they were not under attack.
SNAP!
The cart tilted on the broken axel. Daric watched as Harnon slipped on the steep bank, almost sliding into the river. He quickly gathered himself and then ran to loosen the harness before the cart slid down the bank and into the river, the horse with it.
“Help! Help me!” the cartman cried.
Daric, Grady and Gialyn were halfway there when another CRACK left the cart leaning over the riverbank.
Daric pointed to the horse. “Help him with the strapping, Gialyn.”
Eyes bulging, the horse thrashed about, pulling its harness tighter and tighter. Daric wondered if Gialyn would get close enough to put a hand on the animal, never mind free the thing.
“With any luck, he’ll snap it,” Harnon shouted. Clearly, the cartman had had the same thought.
Daric and Grady ran to the far side of the cart, between the broken wheel and the riverbank. The horse kicked out, no doubt trying to escape, but only managed to scrape the bare wood a few feet along the sun-baked road. Spokes shattered and splintered. With each snap, the cart tilted further towards the rushing weirs of the Geddy River.
Daric and Grady pushed at the cart on either side of the broken wheel. “You be ready to jump,” Daric shouted.
Grady nodded as he dug his feet into what was left of the gap between the cart and the riverbank. There was not much room to move.
Daric could hear the water gushing through the weir; he knew what would happen if the horse did not calm down. The poor thing would follow the cart down the bank, and there would be no saving the animal, not in that current. “Gods, get that bloody horse out of it!” he shouted to Harnon.
Daric grabbed the spokes while Grady took hold on the other side of the wheel. Both men heaved with all their might. But their efforts were useless; the broken wheel slid closer and closer to the top of the riverbank.
Suddenly the cart stopped sliding and lifted away from them. Daric and Grady tumbled to the ground as the broken wheel spun free. Quickly, they got to their feet. Then Daric’s jaw dropped at the sight of Gialyn’s giant holding up the back of the cart.
He was sure it was the same man they had seen following them along the path to the Albergeddy green two days earlier. There could not be two men of his size in Ealdihain.
The giant’s face held no expression, as if bearing the weight of a cart full of raw pig iron was no effort at all. He just nodded. Daric and Grady looked at each other. Daric could not help but laugh.
Then he saw the giant’s companion – the older man with the staff – casually walk past the cart. The older man stopped when he reached the horse.
Up close, the “older” man did not seem as old as he had from a distance. Indeed, Daric wondered why he needed a staff; certainly not as an aid. Maybe he was a wizard.
No, there are no wizards in Aleras. Stop thinking nonsense; he’s just a peculiar old – or not so old – man.
The “wizard” gently stroked the horse’s neck. Whispering quietly as he moved forward, he handed his staff to Gialyn and laid both hands on either side of the horse’s head. Slowly, he moved closer, u
ntil his brow touched the horse’s nose. All the fear appeared to flow out of the animal. It whickered, then seemed to relax. Its eyes blinked. Its breathing levelled to a steady blowing. The animal was exhausted, but Daric knew the danger was over.
The man looked to his giant friend and pointed towards the verge on the other side of the road. Slowly, he led the horse away from the riverbank, while the giant followed, carrying the cart as if it were a wheelbarrow full of garden cuttings.
“You can unhitch him now,” the older one said when the giant put the back end of the cart down.
“Thank you, sir, thank you.” Harnon bowed almost to his knees as he moved to unhitch the harness. “Harmon Gaulman is my name, sir. I’m in your debt. If there is anything—”
“No need for debts, my friend; it was our pleasure to help. This is my friend, Arfael—” he gestured towards the giant “—and I am Olam.”
Arfael bowed to Harmon. Even bent over, he was taller than the cartman was.
Harnon nervously bowed back. “He’s a handy one to have around.”
Olam laughed. “Yes, I suppose he is at that.”
Arfael smiled, showing two rows of almost dog-like teeth: the front teeth looked normal enough, but the rest were definitely… well, dog-like.
Daric turned to Grady and wondered if he looked as dumbfounded as his friend did. He had never seen the like. Who was the giant? What was he?
Olam turned and started to walk towards Daric and the others. “Hello, my friends. I’m Olam, and this is my travelling companion, Arfael.” He bowed deeply with his open hand placed on his chest. “Good you were here. I feared we would be too late. If you had not stopped it sliding…”
Arfael lumbered up beside Olam.
“Gods, it is him. It’s the giant,” Gialyn muttered. Then put a hand over his mouth and swallowed hard. Clearly, he had not meant anybody to hear his thoughts.
Daric returned their bow. “I would say the thanks are yours. That cart was going; nothing we could have done about it.”
He looked over the two men…
Arfael was huge, and not just because he was likely eight-foot tall. The light-brown linen cape he wore barely reached around his immense shoulders. He had arms the width of Daric’s legs, hands the size of coal shovels, and his fingers were the thickness of pan handles. The giant leaned forward and looked down on Daric from inside his hood. His cat-like eyes, protruding jaw, and flat nose made for curious features. Yet the big man was not ugly. In fact, he had a striking look about him. Yes, “striking” was a good word for him. But he was no Surabhan.
Daric tried not to stare. He quickly turned his gaze back to the older man.
Olam – the may be wizard – was more common in appearance, but only in so much as he looked Aleracian, or maybe Eurmacian. He was no Surabhan, that much was plain, but he was not strange, either, not like his big friend. Daric wondered if the older man – how old is he? – might be a teacher, or perhaps a man of letters. He certainly spoke well enough to be a scholar of some sort. Olam held himself well. He was tall for a Eurmacian – if he was Eurmacian; his skin was brown, like someone who had sat out in the sun – even slouching against his long wooden staff. The “wizard” was clean-shaven and had smartly combed golden hair, which was long, with just a touch of grey at the temple, and kept back in a ponytail by a thin leather tie.
Yes, Olam certainly had the air of an older man, but his face put him at Daric’s age… if that. The cut and style of his clothing led Daric to conclude he was no labourer, miner, or farmer – those were the common trades in Ealdihain. Otherwise, he looked quite average, especially when compared to his friend.
However, Olam did have a strange sense of calm about him. As though he had travelled far, seen much, and had come away the wiser for it.
Daric looked over the two men with his guardsman’s eye. Helpful folk or not, he was not a man to accept strangers easily, no matter how gracious their first encounter may have been. Something about the two unsettled him: most notably, their weapons…
“Why are you so at arms?” Daric pointed at the weapons Olam carried. “Sword, knife, bow, and axe. Are you expecting trouble?”
Olam laughed. “By Ein’laig, no,” he said, taking up the sword and knife by their hilt. The sword was long, and the handle looked too fat for Olam’s hand. The dagger was more a shortsword than a simple knife. “These belong to my friend.” – that explained the oversized hilt – “I carry them in exchange for Arfael carrying my pack. A fair trade, I would say. The bow is mine; the axe is for chopping firewood.”
His answer settled Daric a little. But he still wondered about the sword. It was a battle blade, designed to cut through armour. Why would a simple traveller have such a thing?
Olam continued. “No, sir, we are most certainly not looking for trouble. Arfael and I came in the hope of finding travel companions. We heard a group might be journeying east. In my experience, it is always best travelling in a group.”
Daric nodded and let some of the stress leave his shoulders. Olam’s story seemed believable. Still, his surprise at coming across such a man as Arfael had left him with an uneasy feeling. He knew nothing of his race; if, indeed, there were such a people. Maybe it is just him. Maybe he is Surabhan and just born that way.
“I think you mean us,” Daric said. “We’re travelling to Bailryn for the recruitment festival. My son may wish to apply.”
He gestured towards Gialyn, who had barely taken his eyes off Arfael. Daric shot his son a disapproving glance. Shaking his head, he silently mouthed, Stop staring!
“A worthy endeavour, young man,” Olam said with an approving nod for Gialyn. “Service to your country is an honourable enterprise.”
Olam turned his attention back to Daric. “I do not mean to impose on you, sir. I realise it may seem an unusual proposition, but I would appreciate it if you gave some thought to my request. It could be to your advantage; we know the road and would be glad of the company.”
Grady, who had been listening uncharacteristically quietly – and staring at the giant, too – moved up to Daric’s side. “Can I… uh… have a word?” he asked. He looked at Olam. “Would you… just a moment?”
“Of course,” Olam said, bowing.
Grady kept an eye on Olam and Arfael as the two newcomers stepped over to the other side of the road.
“I’m not sure about this,” Grady said.
Olam and Arfael put their heads together and quietly talked to one another. Daric strained to hear what they were saying, but Grady spoke over the top of them…
“They look an odd couple. I know they came to the rescue, but… that… uh… what is his name? Alf… Aufrea… the big man? I’ve never seen the like. I don’t mind saying, he bothers me. And I’m not convinced about the other one, either. He’s far too… I don’t know… polite.”
Daric could not help but smile at his friend’s comments. “Let’s not judge too quickly. Olam is right; it is safer travelling as a group. Odd or not, I think they have proven themselves.” He gave a sideways glance at the giant before continuing, “Let’s be honest, would you argue with that… Alfred… is it? He could be a handy one to have around should we meet trouble along the road.”
“I suppose so. I’d just prefer not to travel with a man who could beat me to a pulp without raising a sweat.”
Daric started to laugh but then heard footsteps. Turning, he saw Elspeth and Ealian ambling up to the crossroad. Elspeth was leading, of course.
Elspeth was dressed in her huntress garb: a well-pocketed brown jacket cut tight to her waist, similar coloured linen breeches with soft leather around the knee, a thin blouse and soft leather boots. Her dark hair, tied in a loose braid, hung over her shoulder. She had a good elm bow strapped to her pack and a skinning knife sheathed at her waist. She was not wearing the six-knife thigh-garter Daric had heard her bragging about at the Feast. Maybe she was saving it for when they were out of the valley. But thigh-garter or not, she seemed ready for the trip.<
br />
Ealian, on the other hand, was dressed for a ball: white frilled shirt, thick tunic in lush dark blue, and silken black breeches. His shin-high soft leather boots were his only item of sensible walking clothes, and Daric did not think they would last long.
Elspeth paused for a moment as she took in what was a larger than expected group.
“What is happening here?” she enquired. Her brow creased and her jaw clenched as she glanced between Daric, Grady and the two strangers. Shuffling off her pack, she stood with chin raised waiting for an answer.
Grady whistled under his breath. He turned the other way, leaving Daric to deal with the twins.
Elspeth was an attractive girl; Daric was not surprised Gialyn had a crush on her. Tall, slim, with an appealing face, she made a fine figure… shame about her moods, though. Of all the questions he had asked himself after accepting Theo’s offer, how he would put up with the girl’s attitude had been the hardest to answer. In truth, he was not sure he could deal with her. Not without giving the girl daily mouthwashes with Mairi’s rose petal soap.
Why did I pack rose petal soap?
Compared to the girl, Ealian seemed unremarkable, although his manners were the mirror of his sister – they were twins, after all.
Daric stepped over to them while scratching his ear. “Well… we seem to have picked up some guests. You know Grady, of course. This is Olam, and the large gentleman is his friend…” Daric paused with hand outstretched, waiting for the big man to fill in his name – it was not like him to forget a name, but what with Grady going on about it, he did not want to call the big man “Alfred.”
Olam moved forward. “Arfael,” he said. “His name is Arfael.”
Olam bowed to Elspeth, then walked purposefully towards her with his hand outstretched.
Elspeth politely shook his hand while turning to Daric. Her eyes said she wanted more information.
“Don’t look at me,” Daric said with his hands raised in the air. “It is a public road, and we are all going the same way.”
“If you ask me, this is a bad idea,” she whispered.
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 7