Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2)

by Catherine Johnson

  Elthrinn stayed in the bath, half dozing and trying not to think about the coming evening, until the water cooled. She stepped out and dried herself with the towel that had been laid out across the bedspread. It was with some apprehension that she investigated the contents of the drawers that Rehan had indicated, but she was pleasantly surprised by what she found. The outfits that had been left for her were not long dresses such as Rehan had worn. Elthrinn found leather trews, cotton shirts and a sort of leather overdress that reached her knees, but left her arms free, and laced at each side. The lacings, and the softness of the skins, allowed her a great deal of movement.

  Her stomach rumbled as she dressed, reminding her that she had not eaten for many hours. Almost before she'd finished tying the ties of the dress, Elthrinn began to devour the food that was waiting for her. The bread was soft and light, and the cheese was tart enough to make her wince. There was cooked meat, which tasted like venison, and a sweet green pear. The wine in the jug was darker than blood and smelt of blackcurrants.

  Elthrinn's eyes were closing almost before she finished the second cup of wine, the first having washed down her meal. She lay down on the comfortable bed, too tired, too warm and too sated to be anxious, and slipped into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Gorren had been enjoying the rare opportunity to stay in bed past the sounding of the barracks' alarm, when the knock had come at the door. He was irritable at the disturbance, as was Jorm, who'd also been awakened by the noise. Delban and Ornef continued their gentle snoring heedless of the interruption.

  Their troop had returned only the day before from a training exercise in the northern mountains. The men had been granted a week's furlough, a week that Gorren already knew would be likely interrupted by the arrival of his intended bride. From the insistent knocking at their dorm room door, he suspected that he would not get to enjoy even a day of that week for himself.

  He had quickly pulled on a pair of trousers, as Jorm had been sitting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes. When Gorren had opened the door, he had found one of the younger recruits, looking suitably nervous, considering he'd just awakened someone older and more senior who was not on duty.

  "Sir, your mother, the queen, is outside. She sends word that she wants to speak with you."

  Gorren had recently been promoted to the rank of Captain. His rise through the ranks had been as a result of his own efforts and had not been facilitated by his family's influence, but he had still eschewed the option of moving to the officers' quarters, preferring to remain in the room he shared with his friends.

  There was a loud whumpf as Jorm collapsed back onto his mattress, having heard that his attention was not required.

  Gorren scrubbed a hand over his face and through his beard. "Tell her I'll be along shortly."

  The recruit had disappeared down the corridor before Gorren had even finished closing the door.

  "You think this is it?" Jorm mumbled from under his blanket.

  "Yes, or nearly. They must have received some word. She hasn't tried to speak with me on the subject since the decree was issued."

  Jorm peeled pack a corner of his blanket and squinted at Gorren. Gorren started to wash himself using the bowl of cold water that was sitting on a ledge under the window. "And will you speak to her about it?"

  "Yes, although I haven't much to say on the subject. Apparently everything is planned. I need only turn up."

  Gorren swept his fingers though his hair and his beard, in place of a brush, and pulled on the cleanest clothes he could find.

  Jorm pushed up onto his elbows. "At least listen to what your mother has to say."

  Gorren halted in the process of pulling on his leather frock coat. It was too late in the year to be outside in only a shirt. "And when did you develop a sympathy for this arrangement?"

  "I haven't," his friend assured him. "But your mother would never knowingly do you harm. If she has advice or information for you, it will be worth listening to."

  "I'm not so sure anymore." Gorren finished pulling on his coat and went to leave the room.

  "Yes you are, you're just angry with her. Try to hear what she says."

  Gorren snorted at his friend's well-meant advice and went to meet his mother.

  ~o0o~

  He thought his mother might be waiting for him at the entrance to the barracks building, but when he arrived there he was told that she wished for him to meet her at the gate to the compound itself. He found her staring out into the sky. She didn't appear to have heard him approaching; she jumped when he called her.

  "You wanted to see me?"

  "Yes." His mother smoothed the skirts of her green dress. It was one of his favourites. Whenever he saw it, he thought of the happier times he'd had in the hall. "Will you walk with me?"

  Gorren nodded, and held out his arm. He knew his mother preferred a kind of old-fashioned chivalry, and he enjoyed the way it brought out his protective instincts. She hooked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her around the perimeter fence.

  Neither of them spoke for several steps, until his mother sighed so heavily he felt the heave of the air leaving her chest.

  "We have received word that your bride should arrive within the day. Your father has arranged for a banquet to take place at the hall tonight, to welcome her." His mother sighed again. "I know you're not happy about this arrangement."

  "It's not an arrangement, Mother." Gorren interrupted. "It's a marriage. Arrangement implies something more... temporary."

  "Very well," his mother nodded, "I know you're not happy about this marriage, but I do truly feel that it will be a good thing for you. It will certainly be beneficial for Dorvek."

  Gorren tried not to sneer. He hoped that his father hadn't sent his mother with a speech about how the country was relying on him to do his duty. He was very much aware of his duty to his country, he had been mortally aware of it every time his blood had been spilt in battles against the trolls. "I hope you're not broody for grandchildren."

  His mother gave a sad attempt at a laugh. "I won't lie, I am, and I know that won't be a result of this match, but that's not what I mean. I think it will be good for you, yourself."

  "To be married? What's so very wrong with my life as it is now?"

  "Nothing. You have your friends and your freedom."

  "A freedom you would see taken from me."

  "A freedom that weighs heavy on a man who has passed a certain age."

  Gorren released his own sigh, heavy with disappointment at his mother, whom he had always trusted to have faith in him. "So you do disapprove of the way I live. You think I should settle down with a nice wife and stop embarrassing myself and my family?"

  "That's not what I said, and that's not what I mean." His mother's tone was frustrated. "It's time you had someone to call your own, for want of a better way to explain it. You've always been at odds with your father, and never been close to your brother. This is your chance, Gorren, your chance to create a little corner of the world for yourself. You're doing well in the army, you have a career here. You're respected and liked. It's time to make a home life for yourself, too."

  "Under my father's watchful eye, of course."

  "At first, yes." His mother turned to look him in the eye. "But I'm working on that. It's like chipping at granite, as you well know. Yes, you'll have to move back to the hall, tomorrow, if not tonight, but I don't think that is such a bad thing. And I'm hopeful that by the time the wedding takes place I'll have persuaded your father that a house of your own would be more suitable. You can hardly expect the girl to live here at the barracks with you, after all."

  "I have to ask, what could possibly be beneficial about me living at the hall?"

  "Not just you, you and your wife. She's a young girl, in strange country, with no family or friends around her. I don't know much about her, but my impression is that she's not worldly. Please Gorren, try to be sympathetic and patient with her. I'm sure, from what little I hea
rd of the discussions, that she feels very much as you do. This is not her choice."

  Gorren stopped walking, almost ready to vomit with the thoughts that rose in his head. "Mother, if she does not want this, I can't.... I... it would be..."

  "I know, son. I know your concerns." His mother started walking again, and Gorren followed dumbly. "It will be up to you to ensure that your fears are not realised. Be gentle with her, be sympathetic and patient, as I said. You are a good man, a strong man. You have a big heart, you are kind, and it doesn't hurt that you are handsome. You have some time before the wedding to get to know each other. You have a chance to make sure that you do not begin your wedding night as strangers."

  Gorren did not believe that he warranted the faith that his mother had in him, but if she believed he could woo this stranger, he would try. "I'm not sure I know how."

  "I will help you all I can. I want you to be happy, son. And you cannot be happy if your bride is miserable. If there is any way I can ease your path, I will do so."

  Gorren bent to kiss his mother's cheek. "Thank you. I will try. I cannot promise that you will see the results you desire, if it turns out that she's arrogant, or mean, or hateful, but if she has an agreeable personality, I will try, for your sake."

  "Thank you, son. That is all that I ask," his mother paused. "Well, not all."

  Gorren raised an eyebrow, and waited for her to elaborate.

  "Take a bath and brush your hair. We wouldn't want her to think that she's marrying a savage."

  ~o0o~

  Later in the day, having cleaned himself up as his mother had asked, Gorren and his friends decided to enjoy a little of Borr's hospitality while they waited for the time to attend the event at the hall. There was a lack of any more constructive business to occupy their time, since they had been given leave from their military duties.

  Despite the incipient occasion, they were anonymous in a room full of people that did not want to be seen to be doing what they were doing. Gorren's friends were drinking mead as though it were the air they should breathe. Gorren was sipping his mug in a positively sedate manner, heedful of his mother's concerns. They were waiting for Ornef, who managed to be late for everything, although it was unusual for him to be tardy for anything involving mead or food.

  "I've heard the women of Felthiss resemble the back end of a cow." Delban smiled as he drank.

  "No, you're thinking of those troll females again." Jorm made an exaggerated shudder. "I don't think I've ever seen anything so ugly."

  "I heard that Treb fucked one," Delban commented.

  "Treb would fuck anything, and it doesn't necessarily need to still be breathing," Jorm returned.

  Gorren sat and listened to his friends and watched the other occupants in the room. He could find no enthusiasm for their humour. A small commotion by the door drew his attention. Ornef was hurrying through the room, apologising to the people he had cannoned off in his haste. He watched, curious as to why Ornef looked so pleased with himself.

  "Guess what I've just seen," Ornef said as he sat down, immediately commandeering an empty cup and filling it.

  "The Grey Wolf himself?" Jorm asked dryly.

  "No, even better." Ornef drank and grinned. "Two giants."

  "Giants, in Dorvek?" Delban was a mixture of confusion and anger.

  "Half-giants, I think," Ornef answered. "They're bigger than any man I've ever seen. Impressive bastards."

  "But still." Delban was definitely leaning towards anger. "Why are they here, and why are we still in here?"

  "You've missed them, they rode straight out again."

  Gorren wondered at Ornef's determination to tease Delban. It was as if he wanted to have his eye blackened.

  "And you waited until they were gone to tell us that they were even here?" Delban was on the verge of rising from his seat.

  "Yes." Ornef was grinning like a fool. "Because the giants aren't the thing we're interested in."

  "Really?" Delban settled back into his seat, but he sounded sceptical.

  "Yes, really."

  "So what would we be interested in?" Jorm asked, with about as much exasperation as Gorren felt himself.

  "The thing, or rather, the person, that they were bringing with them."

  Delban immediately relaxed back into his previous good humour. "Ahh, that'll be your fat bride then, Gorren."

  Gorren didn't answer. He had nothing to say on the matter. He didn't find it at all amusing.

  Ornef drained his cup and spoke again. "Don't laugh, brothers. I'm wondering if there's any way I can trade places with him. If I find a way to black my hair, maybe King Dorll won't notice the switch." Jorm and Delban both leaned forward. Gorren did not move in his seat, but he began to pay a little more attention. "It was hard to see much, but she's definitely not fat. She's a little thing, not even as tall as the queen."

  "My mother is almost as tall as me. There are a great number of people shorter than her."

  "Yes, well this little thing only came up to her shoulder."

  "It seems they've betrothed you to an imp, brother," Delban laughed and turned back to Ornef. "Is that all you noticed, then? Her height?"

  "No. She has black hair, long, I think, but it was all bound up, it was hard to tell. She was covered, but judging by her face, she has pale skin, pale as the moon."

  Jorm grinned at Gorren. "I think I'm envious."

  Gorren shrugged. "Beauty isn't everything. She could be hateful and ugly to talk to."

  "Maybe," Ornef agreed. "But I don't think so. Your mother seemed impressed."

  Gorren shrugged again. His mother would have been making an effort, as she had told him she would do.

  "Are you going to drink that or just sit and stare at it?" Delban nodded at Gorren's still mostly full cup.

  Gorren looked into his drink, but there were no visions of the future to be had in the alcohol. He knew that he didn't want to sit in the tavern and get drunk. The mead tasted sour on his tongue. His mother's pleas made the sweet liquid bitter. He pushed his cup in Delban's direction and stood. "I'm going out for a ride. I'll meet you back here later."

  "And if anyone asks where you are?" Jorm asked.

  "They'll have to wait for me to return," Gorren replied, and turned to push his way through the other rowdy patrons.

  He returned to the barracks to find a horse, and rode out from Cranak into the bright afternoon. The colour of the grass and sky were pure and brilliant. The air was sharp, tinged with the coming winter, but laden with the scents of earth and living things. He rode into the woods, guiding his horse between the tall trees, along the banks of the river, until he came to a place that he was well acquainted with, a place he often sought out when he wanted to be left in peace with his thoughts.

  Gorren dismounted and let his horse wander to find a patch of grass. He took a seat on one of the larger boulders by the tributary that swirled into the river, and watched the waterfall tumble over the rocks that it had worn smooth. The quiet beauty of the scene, and the relentless movement of the water, always soothed him.

  The sun was beginning to set when he caught his horse and rode back to Cranak. He hadn't reached any other conclusion than that he was trapped in his father's decision and that he should take his mother's advice, because no one else had offered any other words that made more sense.

  He was close to being late, so he left his horse to the care of one of the barrack's stable boys and headed to the tavern to find his friends. They were not as obnoxiously drunk as he would have expected them to be, having spent the afternoon consuming mead. He knew his father would have radiated disapproval even if they had all arrived completely sober, but he had hopes that perhaps his three brothers would not be turned away at the doors.

  All four were granted admittance, but Dechard, his father's steward, guided Gorren to the long table at the head of his room where his parents would take their seat, whilst pointing to a table in the shadows that had enough seats available to accommodate Jorm, Del
ban and Ornef. The three men waited until Dechard had bustled off to facilitate some other business, and then insinuated themselves at a table much closer to Gorren's seat.

  The hall was already beginning to fill with guests. It was likely that most of the town would have been invited to welcome the new addition to their ruling family. Gorren suspected that most of them scoffed privately at that new addition being a foreigner, and that they had come mostly with the intention of fulfilling their curiosity rather than offering their greetings.

  There was a brief hush in the ruffle of conversation as his mother appeared in the room, but since she had not been formally announced, the murmurings soon resumed. She made her way directly over to Gorren, brushing off any attempts that people made to draw her into conversation.