Severed Destinies

by David Kimberley

  “Where are the others?” Celestius asked. “They are here, aren’t they?”

  The noble stroked his thick grey moustache and nodded. “They are here, don’t you worry. I told them to give us a few moments alone, so that we might catch up. I have not seen you in quite a while, Celestius. What great tales have you to tell me from Tamriel?”

  Celestius glanced at Gorric and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure my tales are only half as exciting as your own, Brenn. How was the journey from Ashgar?”

  Brenn leant back in his chair. “It was comfortable enough. Our new wagons are much better than the old ones. Hold more cargo too.” Brenn turned his squint towards Gorric. “So, the young Lord Orgillian has come along to watch his father banter with a professional. Ah, you’re in for a treat, my lad.”

  “I look forward to it,” smiled Gorric.

  He stifled a yawn and looked at Khir, who was gazing over at the stairs in the bar room. Turning slightly to see what his friend was looking at, Gorric saw the young man, Varayan Devohr, walking down the stairs.

  “How’s the family?” Brenn asked Celestius, drawing Gorric’s attention back.

  “Elna’s fine and as beautiful as the day I met her. Kithia is still a handful and the little one – Cassi – is growing up fast. I fear that she will grow up, marry and leave home before I have a chance to enjoy her childhood.”

  Brenn laughed. “When you get to be my age, lad, then you can complain all you want.” The old noble winked at Gorric.

  Gorric gave a false laugh, which his father had taught him was one of the most important things to perfect, and turned back to watch Varayan. He saw the gambler order a drink at the bar and then take it to a table near to the front door, where he sat in silence. Occasionally, he would glance in Gorric’s direction, but never held the gaze directed back at him. It was a sign that he was untrustworthy in Gorric’s opinion. An innocent man could look people in the eyes without turning away.

  “Gorric.”

  His father’s stern tone startled him and he turned back to find both men at his table watching him. His father’s face was tensed in an angry scowl, whilst Brenn was beaming.

  “Lost in daydreams?” the Ashgar man asked Gorric.

  “Brenn was asking you whether you were ready for the training to begin in Vylandor,” growled Celestius.

  “I apologise for my rudeness, sir,” Gorric said to Brenn. “Yes, I look forward to the training, plus I am anxious to see the capital.”

  Brenn and Celestius seemed pleased with the answer and began talking quietly to one another. When Gorric was sure that neither man was addressing him, he glanced at Khir, then at Varayan.

  The tavern door opened and two men entered, looking eager to get out of the rainy evening and near to a warm fire. The two were dressed somewhat differently to the rest of the tavern’s clientele, Gorric noticed. They wore thick brown cloaks, but beneath he could see white robes. The elder of the two pulled back his hood and moved towards the bar, whilst the other stood by the door looking around anxiously.

  Gorric also noticed that Varayan watched them both very closely too.

  A few minutes passed as Celestius and Brenn engaged in the small talk which was expected between two friends who had not seen each other for a long time. The tavern was not busy that night. The two robed men who had entered were now seated at a table between Khir and Varayan, where they had removed their damp cloaks.

  They were clerics of Ardan and Gorric wondered what two such men were doing in Barentin at this time of year. One was young – about Gorric’s age – whilst the other was several years older. An acolyte and his tutor most likely.

  Brenn’s travelling companions from Ashgar arrived eventually and the banter began. Gorric was less-than-enthralled by the conversation and tried his best to listen. His mind began to wander again though and he looked at Khir, who had a curious expression on his face. The forester’s son noticed Gorric watching and made a slight nod towards the clerics. Gorric’s eyes moved to where they sat and he immediately saw what Khir was indicating.

  With a single bound, Gorric leapt from his chair and landed next to the clerics’ table. He pounced on Varayan and grabbed the young gambler by his collar.

  “I don’t believe that belongs to you,” stated Gorric.

  Varayan struggled but could not break his grip.

  “What’s going on?” asked the older cleric, standing.

  Khir moved up to him and pointed at Varayan’s right hand, where they could all see a pouch hanging from his fingers. “I believe that’s your pouch,” stated Khir.

  The clerics exchanged concerned glances. “You’re right, lad,” said the older of the two to Khir, after checking his pockets.

  “Gorric, what’s happening?” boomed Celestius from behind his son.

  “Just catching a thief, father,” replied Gorric. Tightening his grip on Varayan, he leant closer. “I knew you were trouble as soon as I laid eyes on you. You were just waiting for the right person to rob, weren’t you?”

  Varayan suddenly grinned. “Some people don’t have the wealth others have. We have to make do with what we’re given in life.”

  Gorric let go with one hand and snatched the pouch away with the other. “Here you go,” he said, handing it back to the older cleric.

  “It’s a good job you were watching, my young friend,” smiled the cleric. “If you hadn’t then myself and young Rynn here might have been swimming home.”

  Celestius moved up behind Gorric and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Well done,” he said quietly.

  Gorric nodded towards Khir. “It was Khir who first noticed, father. I would have been none the wiser.”

  Khir grinned as all eyes turned on him, most with admiration but one with contempt.

  “Look, just let me go and I’ll leave Barentin right now,” said Varayan. “You’ll never see me again.”

  Celestius nodded to the barkeeper, then gave the thief a knowing smile. “You’re right. We won’t be seeing you again.”

  The barkeeper told one of the serving girls to fetch the nearest guard and she ran for the back door in the kitchen.

  “As you’ve helped us this evening, how may we help you in return?” the older cleric asked Gorric.

  Celestius answered before Gorric could. “We expect no reward for this. My son, Gorric, and his friend, Khir, are fine examples of honourable men, wouldn’t you say?”

  The cleric laughed. “Indeed they are. My name is Forven. This is Rynn.” Forven swept his hand in the acolyte’s direction. “We’re here from Boraila for the market.”

  “Celestius Orgillian,” greeted the Tamriel nobleman, bowing his head slightly.

  Forven raised an eyebrow. “Lord Orgillian, it is an honour to meet you. I apologise for not recognizing your crest.”

  Celestius smiled. “You need not apologise. You are from the Temple of Ardan?”

  “We are.”

  Varayan twisted in Gorric’s grip. “If everyone’s quite finished being honourable and noble,” he said with sarcasm. “I’d like to leave.”

  With unexpected speed, Varayan kicked out at Gorric and caught him in the stomach, causing the noble’s son to release his tight grip. He moved back away from the group of people and pointed at Forven. “You can keep your money.”

  Rynn and Forven moved clear as they saw the rage building in Gorric’s face. Khir slowly began to circle Varayan, as did Celestius on the opposite side.

  “You don’t really think that a nobleman and his thug of a son will stop me from leaving this tavern, do you?” chuckled Varayan. He stepped towards the door.

  Gorric, Celestius and Khir took a step closer, ready to pounce. All noise in the tavern had ceased, apart from the crackle of the fire. People held their breath in anticipation.

  Then, from outside the tavern, a horn sounded.

  Ranesch stepped out into the temple courtyard to greet his visitors. Torches mounted upon the stone walls flickered brightly, illuminating the approa
ching men. Ranesch glanced up at the dark sky and saw that the stars were all hidden by storm clouds. Soon, rain would begin to fall on Boraila.

  There were three men who had entered the temple grounds so late. The old cleric could see Guard Commander Vohlkern clearly, in his standard garments of office. His chain shirt glinted in the torchlight from beneath his tunic and the impressive broadsword clicked against his side as he walked. The city's crest - a white ship upon calm waters - could be seen emblazoned upon the front of his tunic.

  Behind Vohlkern came two of his guardsmen. Ranesch had seen them before, but had never exchanged words with them.

  "What brings the guard commander up to my temple so late in the day?" asked Ranesch, boldly.

  Vohlkern came to a halt before the cleric, removed his helmet and handed it to the guardsman on his left. He then smiled warmly at Ranesch.

  "How are you, my friend? The temple becomes so chilled at this time of the year."

  Ranesch shook his head. "You're wrong. If you ever spent any time up here, you might realise that it remains warm throughout the year."

  "I have been very busy of late," began Vohlkern. "We have started new training exercises for the men and it has been taking up a lot of my time. I would like to spend more time up here, of course."

  "Don't lie to me," snapped Ranesch. "You hated coming here when you were a child and you still hate it. If your parents hadn't used to drag you here, you would never have known this place existed."

  Vohlkern could not fool Ranesch. They had known each other too long.

  "I noticed that Forven and Rynn left Boraila the other day," said the guard commander. "Where were they off to?"

  "Why?" asked Ranesch, suspiciously.

  "I had a feeling they would be heading up the Ulmerien to Barentin for the markets. Am I right?"

  "Yes. Are you going to tell me why you're asking this or do I have to guess?"

  Vohlkern laughed. "I apologise, Ranesch. There have been several barge raids by bandits recently on the Ulmerien. We believe they are from Naskador."

  "How near to Boraila have they come?"

  "They wouldn't get too close as they know what would happen to them. The nearest raid was just south of Tamriel. They used the forest canopy as cover."

  "Has anyone been hurt?"

  "Hurt? Yes. Killed? No…not yet. I am just trying to watch out for people arranging passage on the barges. If anyone else here is planning to take a barge upriver, please let me know first. I don't want anything to happen to one of your clerics."

  "Your concerns are noted," said Ranesch with a half-smile. "I'll bear that in mind." He hoped that Forven and Rynn had reached Barentin safely.

  Vohlkern took a deep breath of the cool evening air. "Did you hear that Afaron is visiting most of the Rotian towns and cities?" he asked Ranesch.

  "Is he?" shrugged the cleric. "He does as he pleases. He is king you know."

  "You still don't think he's a good king," stated Vohlkern, quietly.

  "He looks after the kingdom well enough."

  "Yet he believes that a man's destiny is his own. He does not follow the ways of many of his people by believing in Ardan. You never liked him for that reason."

  Ranesch sighed. "Did you come here to question my loyalty or my faith, guard commander?"

  Vohlkern held his hands up defensively. "I was merely pointing out a fact. No offense meant."

  "Will Afaron visit Boraila then?"

  "I doubt it. He is said to be heading for Naskador and the eastern regions soon."

  "How exactly do you know the plans of our king?" asked Ranesch, with a false expression of suspicion. "Do you have spies in Vylandor?"

  Vohlkern frowned at the old cleric. "Of course not. Several travellers arrived today from the capital and it had been made public knowledge there."

  From back in the darkened city came the sound of a horn. Vohlkern glanced at the two guardsmen waiting behind him, who were both looking back towards Boraila.

  "Problem?" Ranesch could sense Vohlkern's sudden apprehension.

  "That was not one of our horns," said the guard commander, more to himself than to Ranesch. Then, he turned back to the cleric and gave a slight bow of his head. "I'd best investigate. If you'll excuse me, Ranesch."

  "Of course. I look forward to your next visit."

  Vohlkern was handed his helmet, which he placed back in position, and then the three men turned and marched from the temple courtyard.

  Ranesch turned to head for the temple door. A horn sounded out again, stronger than the first one they had heard. This one seemed to be more frantic. Growing curious, Ranesch entered the temple quickly and made his way up to the roof, where he stood peering down at Boraila. He could make out people moving quickly in the streets and the lantern lights of the city guardsmen could be seen bobbing around. However, something strange was definitely happening in Boraila. Guardsmen seemed to be gathering together in various areas of the city.

  A horn sounded again, a single long note which faded slowly. It was then Ranesch noticed something else strange. He could just make out several ships heading towards the docks.

  "What's happening down there?" he thought aloud to himself.

  A strong gust of chilled air rolled across the rooftop and rain began to fall. Ranesch watched the city for a moment longer, then headed back down into the temple and ordered the outer and inner doors to be closed and locked.

  Chapter 8

  "What was that?" Gorric asked his father.

  "I'm not sure." Celestius started towards the nearest window.

  As he neared it, the glass panes splintered into the bar room and a burning torch landed by his feet. A split second later, three other torches were thrown into the tavern, shattering the remaining windows.

  One torch landed on a table and set it alight instantly, whilst the others landed on the floor. Celestius grabbed the torch at his feet and flung it back through the broken window, then shouted for Gorric to do the same.

  Gorric and Khir made a grab for the torches whilst the barkeeper emerged with a pitcher of water to douse the flames.

  Celestius peered out of the window and could see men moving around the square outside. Some were on horseback, whilst others could be seen running about on foot. He could not make them out easily, but could see the weapons they carried. As he watched, several on foot moved to a nearby house and broke through the front door. Cries for help could be heard and Celestius cursed quietly. Instinctively, his hand reached down for his sword, but he realised that his weapon lay out in the wagon they had arrived on. He looked back into the bar room to see Gorric, Khir and Brenn disposing of the torches, whilst Forven and the barkeeper threw water on the flames that had sprang up. Varayan and Rynn were standing side-by-side at the bar, both with terrified expressions on their faces.

  "What do we do, father?" shouted Gorric, having seen the attackers for himself.

  Celestius pointed towards the kitchen. "Through there is the back door. We need our weapons from the wagon. I want you and Khir to fetch them for me." He noticed Brenn and his Ashgar colleagues unsheathing shortswords. "Brenn, do you have any spare weapons to hand?"

  Brenn peered through a window. "I'm afraid not."

  "I have something you can use," piped up the barkeeper, rushing back behind his counter and emerging with a short, curved blade. "I keep this for protection."

  Celestius pointed towards Gorric. "Please, give my son the sword. He needs something in case…"

  Another two torches flew into the room, one missing the barkeeper by inches.

  Celestius turned to Gorric. "Take the sword and fetch our weapons. Come straight back."

  Gorric took the curved sword from the barkeeper's shaking hands and called to Khir, who threw one of the two torches back through a window and then followed.

  Celestius felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and he glanced back to see Brenn.

  "I'll go with your lads and protect them, don't worry," winked the Ashgar noble.<
br />
  "Thank you, Brenn."

  Then, the three men disappeared through into the kitchen and Celestius pushed any thoughts of Gorric being attacked from his mind. The attackers had not yet moved around the back of tavern, so he hoped that Gorric, Khir and Brenn were safe for now.

  He looked out again at the dark figures who had so suddenly appeared from the night to attack Barentin. Who were they and why were they attacking this peaceful town?

  Amongst the attackers, he noticed two on horseback watching the events unfold. One of the riders occasionally pointed or shouted orders at the men, whilst the other sat looking towards the tavern.

  "We need to make sure that no torches are allowed to catch anything else alight in here," called Celestius to the other people in the bar room. He glanced over his shoulder at Rynn and Varayan. "That includes you two."

  "We will make sure," said Forven. "Rynn?"

  The young acolyte blinked and looked at Forven. "I…I will help."

  Varayan backed away to the nearest wall and pulled out his knife. He did not know what was going on, but he would have to leave as soon as nobody was watching. Of all the wagons he could have stowed away on, he had to choose the one which would bring him to this ill-fated town. His cursed his luck and waited for the right moment to run.

  "Come on, lad," said Brenn in a hushed voice, as he took the barkeeper's sword from Gorric. "Grab those weapons of yours and let's get back inside."

  Gorric reached into the wagon and grabbed his father's sword first, handing it to Khir, who nearly overbalanced with the weight.

  "My knife," whispered Khir, as loud as he dared.

  Gorric picked up Khir's hunting knife and his own sword, then jumped down from the wagon. As he did so, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard coming from the narrow street which joined the backyard to the main square.

  "Head for the door," ordered Brenn, pushing Khir towards the tavern.

  The three ran for the back door; Khir leading, Gorric close behind and Brenn at the rear. Glancing back, Gorric saw two figures emerge from the street.