by Matt Moss
“Is Malik around?” Arkin asked.
“He’s training for the King’s guard in the capital,” Clara said proudly. “Hopefully he’ll return to see his mother soon.”
Arkin wiped the tears from his face. “Father’s dead,” he said. Seeing the confused shock on her face, he continued. “A man dressed in black came into the town called him out. They fought and... the stranger killed him.” He left out the part about the beam of light and his father flying through the air. He didn’t want her to think he was crazy. He wasn’t crazy, was he?
He took a sip of his tea as the silence lingered on.
“I’m so sorry about your father, Arkin. He was a good man,” she finally spoke.
“I just don’t understand,” Arkin said. “Why was he there? Why did he have to kill Father? What did he want?”
“Slow down, dear. I don’t know. Were you with your father when the stranger arrived?”
“Yes.”
“Did your father say anything to you?”
“He handed me a book and told me to find the Prophet. And something else about a Garden of Stones.”
Clara looked around nervously. Only a few people sat around the room, eating.
“What?” Arkin asked, aware of her sudden nervousness. He looked around the room. One man happened to look in their direction
“We cannot talk here. Come with me,” Clara said in an urgent hush.
She grabbed him by the arm and led him back into her office. She shut and locked the door.
“What’s going on, Aunt Clara?”
“I think the man who killed your father was looking for The Path of Man. It has been guarded by the Order for centuries.”
Arkin reached into his pack and laid the book softly on the desk. They both stared at it.
“What can be so special about this book?” Arkin said.
“I don’t know,” Clara responded. “But it has secrets locked inside that could answer a lot of questions. I’m sure the Prophet will be able to help answer them.”
Clara drew the curtains shut. “As for the stranger, I believe that was Lucian. He was the only one who could come close to killing your father. Last I heard, he’s a member of the Dark Society. I’m sure they’re looking for this book.”
Arkin stared at the book wondering how it could contain so much power. Men died for this book. His father died for this book. Men also killed for it.
“Lucian was once your father’s best friend.”
Arkin froze upon hearing those words. He stared at Clara with a loss for words.
“They joined the Order together,” Clara said. “They fought in the War of Stones side-by-side. Returning from the war as heroes, they both eventually fell in love with the same woman. Your mother — my sister.”
Arkin had never known his mother. He was always told that she died when he was a baby, but nobody ever explained how or why. Anything his father ever said about her was full of love and fond memories. Arkin had asked him about her death one time, but his father quickly dismissed it. It was obviously a topic that he didn’t want to talk about.
“Sarie was always a lively, outgoing woman,” Clara said with a fond chuckle. “She entertained the two of them courting her for a while, but eventually chose your father. Lucian was devastated. When the Rebellion arose in the Order, he joined with the Dark Society. Lucian tried to take your mother with him, convinced of her love for him. That’s when your father showed up.”
Clara fought to hold back her tears. “That’s when Lucian killed her.”
Arkin’s fists were white-knuckle tight. Not only had the stranger killed his father but eighteen years ago he had killed his mother too.
Clara continued. “Your father fought Lucian. Both were badly wounded by one another. Lucian fled when more of the Order arrived.”
Tears were rolling down Arkin’s face, unknowingly. He was exhausted, and all this was too much to take in once.
“I’m sorry, Arkin. I loved your father very much. I know you have questions, but from the looks of you, you need to get some rest. We will talk more in the morning.” She handed him the book. “Don’t let this out of your sight.”
Arkin nodded, his head feeling suddenly heavy.
Later, as he lay in bed, his thoughts raced in all directions from what he just heard. Through the cloudy haze of it all, one thing rang clear in his mind.
I will find the Prophet. I will give him this cursed book. And I will kill the stranger.
Arkin awoke in the morning to rays of sunshine beaming through the windows. The rain had finally stopped, ushering in the warmth of spring. This was his favorite time of year. Wherever he looked, he could see the world coming to life. At this point, it was the one thing that eased his pain.
The smell of fried bacon and potatoes teased at him. Suddenly, his stomach growled and he realized that he was half starved.
Jumping out of bed, he threw his soiled clothes on. It had been a while since he had his Aunt Clara’s cooking.
There were only a few people in the main room, but his eyes instantly went to Clara and the two people she was talking to. The man, one of the largest Arkin had ever seen, was wearing road-worn leather clothes. His long blonde hair rested gently on his massive shoulders. The long beard that he kept trimmed to a point below his chin added to his clear reputation. Warrior.
On his back, the man wore a massive broadsword and strapped to his side were two wicked looking axes.
Arkin looked young for his age and he knew it. He also knew that his lean frame didn’t appear strong to the eye. He would never have the look of a warrior like this man.
“Ah, there he is,” Clara said, noticing Arkin standing at the bottom of the steps.
They turned to greet him, the third person coming into clear view.
Arkin’s heart almost stopped at the sight of her. Her blonde hair was slightly curled and went halfway down her back. She wore some sort of clothing and boots, but he could care less. He was drawn to her face.
It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Sharp, crisp lines contoured with a touch of delicateness. Her creamy skin was without blemish and looked soft to the touch. He locked eyes with her. Those almond shaped green eyes seemed to look into him, piercing his very soul.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come over and act like somebody,” Clara said with a grin.
Arkin took a few nervous steps towards the group. “Hello.”
“Good morning, lad. I’m Torin. Your lovely aunt tells me that you’re going to see the Prophet,” Torin said, smiling at Clara.
She blushed, touching his arm. “I’ll be getting your all’s breakfast now.”
Torin craned his neck as she rounded the corner to the kitchen. “That’s a fine woman right there.”
Arkin chuckled. The young woman grinned, locking eyes again, then looked away.
Suddenly, he was free falling through a spinning world where she was the only clarity that kept his feet on the ground.
“Boy. . .”
Arkin thought he heard someone speaking.
“Boy.”
Arkin snapped back to reality and looked at Torin.
“Why do you want to see the Prophet?”
Arkin looked down. “I have something for him.”
“Look at me, boy,” Torin said, raising Arkin’s chin. “Always look a man in the eye when you’re talking to him, and always give a good firm handshake when you meet somebody.”
Arkin gripped the man’s hand, looking him in the eye.
“Now, what’s this that you have for the Prophet?”
“A book,” Arkin replied
“You can trust me, boy. Your aunt Clara has already filled me in on everything. That book is very important. If it were to get into the wrong hands...” Torin trailed off, eyes vacant. “I’m a member of the Order and it just so happens that my companion and I were on our way to the Grand Highlands to see the Prophet.”
Arkin’s eyes widened. He had heard of the Gran
d Highlands, but knew nothing about it really. He looked at the young woman.
“I’m Lyla,” she said with an outstretched hand.
He took her hand and was lost in her touch.
Clara walked back into the room, arms full of plated food.
“Who’s hungry?” she said.
Arkin still held Lyla’s hand.
Torin looked from one, back to the other. He shook his head and slapped Arkin on the back. “Let’s eat!”
At midday, Arkin left with Lyla and Torin. After securing the book to his person, Arkin said goodbye to Aunt Clara. Torin said his goodbye with a kiss as he embraced her.
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised.
“You better. Take care of those two,” she said, her voice full of emotion.
He nodded and walked over to his two companions.
“We need supplies before we head out,” Torin said. “I spotted a trader on my way into town. After we settle up, we’ll hit the road.”
The three rode up to the shop, drawing skeptical eyes from the old men sitting out front.
“Mornin’ men,” Torin said, walking up the steps.
One old man spat to the side in reply, contently rocking in a chair. Lyla furrowed her eyebrows at the gesture and followed Torin inside the shop.
Stepping inside, Arkin immediately noticed the aromatic presence of various oils. He had heard his father go into detail about the healing properties of oil, and whether they could be applied to the skin, or ingested with water. Levi especially noted the extraction process of the oil, but Arkin had found that uninteresting. He wished he had paid attention now that he’d not have a chance to talk to his father again.
Torin browsed the floor, obviously a man that knew his way around a trader’s shop.
“Can I help you find something?” the shop owner asked, walking from behind the counter.
Torin turned to the man. “Forgive me, I didn’t see you when I walked in. The name’s Torin,” he stretched out his hand toward the shopkeeper.
“Umber,” the grizzly man said, shaking Torin’s hand firmly.
“I like that name,” Torin said, looking into the man’s eyes straight on, as the two men were about the same size. “I had an uncle named Umber. Great man!”
“You from around here?” Umber said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Afraid not,” Torin said, his eyes casually looking about the shop. “Just passing through with my niece and nephew here.”
Umber eyed Arkin and Lyla suspiciously. “Can I be helping you find something before you be on your way.”
“Trying to run us off, tradesman?” Torin jeered. “At least let me see what you have to offer.”
“Apologies,” Umber said. “It’s just that we’ve had some strange folk passing through as of late. Just last week, a friend of mine, best trader I know, lost his horse and wagon to bandits.” He cursed under his breath. “Lucky he didn’t lose more than that, damned stubborn fool. I told him to avoid the northern pass.”
Torin laughed.
“Something funny about that?” Umber tensed.
Torin rested his hand on Umber’s shoulder. “No, not about your friend, friend.”
“Then what about?”
“We’re on our way to the northern pass,” Torin said, smiling. “Umber, if you would be so kind to show me where you keep your blades.”
The two men made their way to the counter, Torin eyeing the steel that hung on the back wall.
“Did you hear that?” Lyla whispered to Arkin.
“About the pass?” Arkin asked, pretending not to notice her proximity.
“Yes. And the bandits.”
“I did,” he said, confidently. “We’ll be fine. Torin’s with the Order.”
She relaxed, slightly.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Arkin said, surprising himself with his boldness.
She smiled and briefly touched his arm.
Blushing, he picked up a small wooden box that sat on a nearby shelf, pretending that she didn’t affect him the way she did. Attempting to open the box, it slipped from his hands, wood pieces scattering across the floor. The crash drew the eyes of the men at the counter.
Torin shook his head. “Add that to the cost.”
“No worries,” Umber said, piling a handful of daggers and a short sword onto the counter. “A man spends this much money, I can overlook a small wooden box.”
“We’ll talk money in a minute,” Torin said and grinned, “after you get my two companions here some new riding clothes.”
“Alright,” Umber said, sizing the two up. “May be that I have something that fits each of you.”
The tradesman briskly walked into the back, soon returning with an armful of clothes and two pair of slightly worn boots. “Hold these up. See how they look.”
Arkin inspected the clothes, holding them up for size. He tried on the boots. “They’re a good fit.”
“Mine as well,” Lyla said, placing the clothes on the counter.
Umber counted all the items with his finger, adding a number in his head.
“Tell you what. I won’t even charge you for the lady’s clothing. Two and eighteen.”
“Two even,” Torin replied, arms crossed.
“Torin, my friend, you are the one in need of steel. Especially if you’re going to take the northern pass,” Umber countered. “Two and fifteen.”
“Just because a man asks to buy steel, does not mean he is in need of it,” Torin stated. “Two even.”
Umber exhaled, visibly frustrated.
“I know you haven’t sold much over the winter,” Torin said. “If I were you, I’d take the deal.”
“I’d be losing money!” Umber protested.
“Come now,” Torin exaggerated, stretching his arms onto the counter. A sleeve rose, drawing Umber’s eye to the mark on Torin’s wrist.
Umber’s face turned stone as he looked into Torin’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me. You’re Order.”
Torin drew his arms back. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, embarrassed.
“Please, take them,” Umber said, pushing the merchandise across the counter.
Arkin’s eye’s widened at the shop owner’s sudden change of heart.
“I can’t do that, Umber,” Torin said.
“It’s the least I can do. Please, it would bring me great honor,” Umber pleaded.
Torin nodded. “Arkin, Lyla, take your things and get the horses ready.”
The two moved towards the counter, hesitantly, before taking the goods.
“Thank you, sir,” Arkin spoke, gathering the clothes.
Umber nodded, watching the two leave.
Torin began tucking the daggers into his belt. He took the short sword. “Would you have taken two had you not known who I was?” Torin asked.
Umber smiled. “You’ll never know.”
“You drive a hard bargain, tradesman.” Torin pulled two silver coins along with 15 coppers out of his pocket and placed them on the bar. Before Umber could protest, Torin spoke. “Keep it. I’ll look you up next time I pass through. You can buy me a drink,” he said, smiling.
Umber reached across the bar to shake his hand. “Now that sounds like a deal that I can’t pass up.”
The three left Hayfork, drawing the conspiring eyes of the old men sitting out front of Umber’s shop. Arkin noticed them spitting tobacco and talking about the weather upon leaving. He wondered if all old men talked about the weather.
“You know how to use this?” Torin asked, handing Arkin the short sword.
“No,” Arkin said.
“You will. For now, hold it in your hands and act the part. Even that can turn an enemy away. The road has been dangerous lately.”
Torin handed Lyla a dagger. “A lady should always have a blade. Treat it like your lover and it will never let you down.”
She looked down, blushing, then took the blade. “I’ve never had a lover,” she said. “I�
�m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Arkin’s ears perked up.
“I mean take care of it and always keep it by your side. Eat with it, bathe with it, sleep with it, and if the time comes, use it,” Torin said.
She nodded and tucked it down the side of her boot.
Torin took the lead, riding Strider. It was one of the only horses he found that could carry his massive weight great distances.
Arkin rode his horse that he called Brown. His father laughed at his creative name choice, but Arkin was just a child when his father gave him the animal.
Lyla rode her mother’s white horse, Pearla. She had never ridden much until Torin arrived. She never had time for it. Since then, she’d spent three days riding from Fortuna to Hayfork.
“If we go by the road, it’s another three day ride to the Grand Highlands,” Torin said. “By my guess, we should be there by Sunday if the weather’s good.”
He turned Strider north, leaving Hayfork in the distance. The road was wide enough for three, but they rode single file with Lyla in the middle.
Arkin watched her ride, noticing her body sway with the motion of the horse. Lyla’s blonde hair, which she had tied into a ponytail with a green ribbon, blew in the wind.
She turned around, glancing back at him. Lyla smiled to herself when she saw Arkin quickly turn his head to the side.
He felt a flush of anxiety and embarrassment that she had caught him staring.
Just go talk to her, he thought.
He couldn’t do it. There weren’t many girls in The Crossing, so he never had much experience in dealing with the opposite sex. He had courted a girl, a year ago, but it was brief. She was complicated. Now, he found an ease in his attraction to Lyla. It felt good. Natural. Destined even.
She’s just a girl, just go say... He was at a loss. What would he say? Maybe talk about the weather? No, not with her. She deserved a more stimulating conversation than that. From the little he had been around her, he could tell she was smart.
Just go say hello, his mind pressured his body to move, but he kept his distance, pacing with her.
Maybe some other time, he thought. When we camp for the night, perhaps. He settled on that plan.