A brief look of disappointment from Unerr made Jeina feel truly sorry they would not spend the night in this nice old man's company, but Unerr soon brightened as Fezi pressed him for more details about the town of Haloet. After a few more minutes of chatting and pointing to Fezi's map, the pair said their goodbyes to Unerr and soon Jeina could glance behind her and barely make out his comically swaying frame advancing slowly along the road.
True to Unerr's advice, before the sun had fully disappeared in the western sky Jeina could see half a dozen or so thin columns of smoke drifting above the trees a little way off the road to the south. To her delight, an old and faded signpost, which Fezi told her read "Haloet," pointed them down a smaller road to a large clearing in the woods. The town consisted of very few buildings, and only slightly more people, making Jeina wonder if most were already indoors to escape the chill of the evening air. Those who were out glanced at Jeina and Fezi curiously, but nobody said anything until a large barrel-chested man with a neatly-braided beard shouted out, "If it's the inn yer looking for, you'll find it south about forty paces and to your left." Fezi thanked him, and within a minute the inn was in sight.
A stable boy ran out to them and took the reins from Fezi as he swung down off the horse. Fezi gave the boy a handful of coppers and told him see to it that the horse was well fed. The inside of the inn was sparse and seemed almost empty, but there was a hearty fire roaring in the hearth which gave the room a cheery glow, and a good-sized leg of some meat roasting in the flames. The smell made Jeina's mouth water, and for a few moments her mind was hazy with the sole thought of food. A middle-aged woman came out to greet them, wiping her hands on her apron and looking at them curiously. She seemed a bit unnerved by Fezi's appearance, but her eyes warmed when she caught sight of Jeina.
"Had a rough bit of travel, have you? Well, we've beds enough for the two of you, and there's pork and turnip stew for you to eat. I'm afraid I'll have to see your coin now," she continued matter-of-factly, but with a touch of apology in her voice, "we've had one too many strangers who've taken advantage of my good nature."
"Of course," Fezi smiled, and pressed some coins into the woman's palm. "I am sure my companion is starving, so we will eat right away if that is possible. Afterwards, might it be possible to have a bath?"
The landlady nodded. "I've one tub in the cellar, and I'll get the maid to heat up the kettles for you later in the evening."
"Many, many thanks," Fezi replied. "I am much less startling once I have bathed, I promise."
That earned a small laugh from the landlady as she made her way to the kitchen to fetch them some dinner.
After that morning's cold and slippery breakfast, warm stew with a heel of fresh and crusty bread was, to Jeina, a delicious feast. She tore into her meal and when she was almost finished, looked up to find that Fezi was barely half way through his.
"How can you not be hungry, after riding all day in the cold?" she demanded, sounding more accusatory than she intended.
Fezi looked at a piece of bread he had been dunking in his stew before popping it his mouth and smiling slightly. "Oh, I am hungry," he said. "But who knows when we might next eat so well. I would savor it, if I were you."
Jeina groaned. "Does that mean more meals like we had this morning?"
"I dearly hope so," said Fezi, smiling faintly as he ate his stew. But then, his tone turned more serious as he said, "I have had far worse. And remember, food is the least of our troubles."
"As if I could forget that!" snapped Jeina, annoyed partly because for a few moments she had forgotten just what had brought them here. Still, she did not appreciate being reminded. She had never asked him to share her burden, and if he had witnessed the gröljum as she had, well…he might not be so willing to keep the memory fresh in their minds. Fezi seemed to sense he had said the wrong thing, and said no more. They ate the rest of the meal in silence.
As the night wore on, a few other people trickled into the common room for a bite to eat. Sitting in the warm room with others, with people who did not threaten to hurt her, or work her to the bone, Jeina soon forgot her annoyance and settled back to enjoy the evening. The hot bath later felt almost as good as the warm meal, and when Jeina fell into her bed that night and closed her eyes, she drifted off into sleep without effort.
A moan, soft but persistent, roused Jeina from the deepest sleep she could remember since her flight from the mining camp. As she slowly faded into consciousness, the sound became increasingly clear, until she decided it must be coming from beyond the wall just opposite her small bed. She looked over to where Fezi slept, and found him still asleep, stretched out on the floor by the room's single window. A dusty ray of moonlight half illuminated his face, and Jeina was unnerved to see it contorted into a silent expression of fear. The moan came again from the other room, a woman's voice, followed by the sound of a body shifting restlessly atop a straw-stuffed mattress.
Nightmares, Jeina thought, or perhaps someone was ill. She was just about to mutter a prayer of silent thanks to Rekon that her sleep, at least, had been untroubled when she heard another voice pierce the silence of the night. A soft shout, this time, brief and uncontrolled, but a man's voice and from somewhere else in the inn. What is going on? Jeina wondered. She gasped as Fezi's body suddenly twitched on the floor, his hand flying across his chest and to the pommel protruding from the leather scabbard at his side.
Then, to Jeina's horror, a chorus of voices, slack and thick with sleep began to moan and wail in the surrounding darkness. Fear seemed to fill the air and flood through Jeina's body, so thick that she labored to breathe. Pulling herself out of bed, she ran over to Fezi's fitful form and began to shake him awake.
"Fezi, Fezi!" she hissed at him, "Fezi, wake up."
She saw his eyes open in the moonlight, filled with a feral dread so intense that she immediately withdrew her hands from his body and took a step back.
"What is it?" came Fezi's voice, hoarse and shaken.
"I'm not sure," said Jeina frantically, fear making her thoughts muddled. Memories seemed to fly through her head, as she tried in vain to grasp them and force them into words. In the end, she could only manage one. "gröljum," she whispered.
She expected Fezi to leap into action, to tell her what to do and where to go—but he didn't. Instead, he drew his body together, hugging his knees to his chest and shaking his head vigorously.
"Out," he said, in a voice that was almost a whimper. "Out…out."
If this was a command, Jeina could not tell. But she decided she had to do something, for she could feel her own mind trying to crawl away from her, fleeing from some unperceived terror lurking in the night. Dressing hurriedly, and grabbing what she could, she seized hold of Fezi's wrist and pulled him to his feet. He was heavier than she expected, and she never would have been able to budge him, had he not begun to follow her willingly.
Leading Fezi along like a nervous horse, she slipped out the door of their room. Shouts and moans still filled the night air, but nobody seemed to be out of bed. They descended the stairs into the common room, and out of the corner of her eye, Jeina saw an old dog laying by the hearth, whining and whimpering in front of the last glowing embers of the evening's fire. She was just about to make her way to the entrance and out into the night when she heard the sound of hooves outside and ducked into the kitchen instead. A moment later, she could hear the sound of splintering wood as someone, or something, crashed through the door to the inn.
"Find her," came a human voice. "Let nobody leave this inn."
Panic gripped Jeina, but she dashed through the back of the kitchens pulling Fezi along behind her. "Out…out" he was still whimpering.
"I'm trying!" hissed Jeina. There was a door ahead, but Jeina had no idea what lay beyond. She had no choice, however, and hurled her shoulder against it as they approached. She burst into the stables and saw a terrified stable boy bury himself shrieking in a pile of hay. Several horses were there, snorting and pacing nerv
ously in their stalls. Jeina had no time to find theirs. The animal the boy had been grooming was still bridled and she hastily grabbed the reins which were tethered to the stall. The horse reared up in a panic, but Jeina ducked out of the way as the animal crashed down in the stall.
"Fezi!" she cried. "We need to ride."
He looked at her blankly. "Ride!" she screamed, pointing to the horse. Then, like a man in a trance, in one swift movement Fezi caught the reins from Jeina's hand and vaulted up onto the horse's bare back. The animal bucked nervously, but Fezi was able to control it enough for Jeina to climb up as well. The rest was easy. As soon as the horse sensed it was time to ride, it bolted out of the stables at full gallop, and Jeina had to hold on to Fezi as tightly as she could to keep from being thrown. She heard human shouts, and the eerie high-pitched shrieks of something else as they thundered out into the cold night air, but so charged with fear was the horse that all the noises soon faded away as they sped into the darkness.
Jeina had no idea where the horse was headed, but she did not care, as long as it was away from the inn. After a while, when the beast could no longer hear or smell anything threatening, it slowed. Fezi too seemed to have calmed down, and though he said nothing it was obvious he was alert and pondering their next destination. He pulled out his map, and spent several minutes squinting at it in the moonlight. When he seemed satisfied, he prodded the tired horse into a brisk canter. Jeina allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She now knew they were being pursued, but this night, at least, she had escaped.
Jeina had only managed to bring a few blankets, and they had left Fezi's cloak behind at the inn. The evening chill soon began to worry Jeina, and though he never said anything, she felt an involuntary shiver run through Fezi's body now and again when a particularly icy wind seemed to blow through their bones. She was glad, therefore, when they came to another small clearing, occupied by a single small house. Fezi stopped the horse outside the entrance, and swung down to pound on the door.
"Unerr," he yelled out. "Unerr Redseed!"
"Is this his house?" Jeina asked, incredulously.
"It could be," said Fezi, stiffly. "It is in the general vicinity of where he said it was."
Though Fezi tried the door again, and called for Unerr, no signs of life were forthcoming. Jeina was surprised when, after a fourth round of knocking and shouting, Fezi gave the door a swift kick, and it swung open into darkness. Without a word he disappeared into the house, reappearing minutes later with flickering tallow, which threw a soft light into the house's interior.
"Here," said Fezi, holding out the tallow to Jeina. "Take this and see if you can find some food or blankets inside. I'll try to find someplace warm and out of the wind, where the horse can stay for a couple of hours."
"We're staying?" asked Jeina.
"Only until sunrise," said Fezi. "I need to get oriented, and we need food and warmer clothing."
The thought of taking some of Unerr's food and clothing did not sit well with Jeina. He had seemed such a kind man, after all. She was certainly no stranger to stealing out of necessity, but considering the mess her last petty theft had landed her in, she wondered morosely if she would not have been better off starving.
Fezi reappeared quickly and sat down to study his map by the tallow. He did not look at Jeina or say a word, and his stern expression made Jeina worry that he was regretting ever meeting her. After tonight, who could blame him? She busied herself with the task of finding provisions, and when she returned to Fezi, he finally spoke.
"At first light we ride. Northeast, this time."
"I thought we were going southeast, to Midnight Lake?" said Jeina, surprised.
"A change of plans," replied Fezi. "We still head for the lake, but we will go north, to the very tip and then make our way south along the eastern side."
"The dryland side?" Jeina asked incredulously. "Have you lost your wits?"
"No," said Fezi flatly, though his brows knit in annoyance. "It will add a week, maybe more, to our trip. And it will be extremely dangerous, but nobody will expect us to do it, and I prefer to face my dangers head on, rather than face…whatever it was that happened back at the inn."
"But, the Curahshar. They are likely to kill us on sight!" protested Jeina.
"Then we must not be seen!" snapped Fezi, raising his voice.
Then, without warning, Fezi's stern demeanor broke, and he was shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck as he said to her, "Jeina, I…I am so sorry. I am ashamed of how I acted. I offered to help, to protect you from harm, and instead I became a hindrance and almost got us both killed. I…I don't know what to say. I will leave, and bother you no more if you so wish it."
"No!" said Jeina, shocked. "You can't leave! How could you think of leaving me here in the middle of nowhere, knowing for sure that Tobin has sent men out to find me?"
"I didn't! That is, I…" now it was Fezi's turn to sound shocked. "I would never leave if you did not wish it. I only thought that perhaps you…but now I…" Grimacing in frustration, Fezi took a deep breath and shot Jeina a tentative look. She had the distinct impression that he was deciding whether or not to tell her something. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind, and though his eyes still avoided her gaze he began to speak.
"When you first came to me," he began, "I thought that I could help you. I know something about being pursued, about being hunted as it seems you are now. I can guide you through half of Esmoria, keep you fed and sheltered, and I can even protect you from the steel of another man's sword. But…my mind, Jeina, you saw for yourself. I am weak. I was terrified…utterly incapacitated without knowing what it was I feared, nor if I had any reason to be."
"But so were most of the people in the inn!" said Jeina, trying to sound reassuring. "It is part of why Tobin seeks to use the gröljum."
"I do not doubt it," said Fezi. "That is why this Isic you speak of has forged what I believe to be chains made of azhaion. It is the only known means of controlling such power."
"Known?" asked Jeina. "I'd never heard of such a thing."
"Nor would you have, unless you had access to some very old histories. Volumes so old, most consider them to be myths, rather than recorded fact. I have read a handful of such stories, and admit that, though I wanted them to be truth, I had grave doubts."
"You?" asked Jeina, confused. "I thought you said you had never heard of the gröljum?"
"I had not," said Fezi. "The histories I found only ever mentioned the use of azhaion on men. Men who once wielded great power in this world, and often exercised it for their own selfish purposes. The Warlock Kings, they were called, and most agree that under their influence, Esmoria was decimated by chaos. It was the discovery of azhaion that allowed these warlocks to be overthrown and hunted until every last one had been killed, or so it was thought."
"Why would you hope for a history like that to be true?" asked Jeina.
"As far as I can tell, the memory of the Warlock Kings has been all but forgotten. But, centuries ago there was a campaign, a holy war of sorts, initiated by the Church against several false prophets who were eroding the Church's influence. These prophets were rumored to possess powers similar to the Warlock Kings, though only a mere shadow of such power if the histories can be believed. Perhaps you have heard of these false prophets?"
Jeina shook her head. Fezi sighed, "It does not surprise me. Even recent history seems to follow the dead to their graves, especially when the Church would rather such events be forgotten. But knowing what I did about azhaion, and of the Church's war against false prophets, I reasoned that azhaion might be as effective on a prophet as it had been on the Warlocks long ago. It was for that reason I decided to search for any remnants of azhaion."
"But what did you want with it?" asked Jeina.
"Because I believed…" began Fezi hesitantly, "I once sought the chains as a means of 'stilling,' as it is called, my…" he paused before letting the last words out with a sigh, "…my father."
&n
bsp; "Your…father?" Jeina remembered how hesitant she had been to tell Fezi the story of her escape from the camp, and of the gröljum which seemed more likely the stuff of mere night terrors. Yet, now her grasp of the situation seemed to be slipping by the moment, as Fezi continued speaking, for he was the one who now seemed to be espousing fantasy.
"My father was a…many called him a great man, and certainly he was a man of prodigious power and intellect. As an orator, he could kindle such fires in the hearts of men, that they would do almost anything for him. For years and years, as far back as my first memory, I was gripped with a passion, a yearning to accomplish those things which my father bade me do. I spent the better part of my life training myself, pursuing accolades and honors, with the sole goal of pleasing my sire. It was not until long after I had become a man grown that such desires began to waver. It took years for vague suspicions to congeal into a real doubt that my drive, my impetus in life had an…unnatural source. But, though in the very darkest corners of my mind unanswered questions were slowly building, I found myself largely powerless to address them, or even focus my thoughts on them for more than a fleeting moment. In rare moments of absolute self-possession, I would often turn to my library seeking…something. As I told you earlier, I had a few old, arcane books that were once the property of some long dead relative, and in one such book I came across mention of azhaion, and of the chains which had been forged to 'still' the warlocks of old. I began to nurse the hope that I might find out more about this rare substance. But my hopes and plans never could occupy my mind for long, and nothing ever came of my studies. Now, however, the point is moot," he finished, trailing off into an introspective silence.
"You ran away from your father?" asked Jeina.
"No. I'm not sure I could ever have done that."
"Then how did you get away?" asked Jeina, though a vague answer was growing in her mind.
The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1) Page 30