Legends of Gravenstone: The Secret Voyage

by Alex Aguilar

  Skye glanced at the former knight, somewhat shocked by his words.

  “You’re upset,” said the elf. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve never thought clearer in my life.”

  Skye hesitated, unsure of what to say in return. Choosing their words carefully, the elf sighed and asked, “So you’re to kill the man because he’s a traitor and a crook? Plenty of people in the world are. You can’t just kill someone and justify it with the possibility that he may cause harm to someone in future. Is it really worth it in the end?”

  There was a brief pause once again, though it was broken by a subtle exhale on Viktor’s behalf. The expression on his face was honest, yet troubled and dismal all at once.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head, in a manner that was meant to correct the elf. “I’m not doing it for anyone else… I’m going to do it for myself… I’m going to kill him and I’m going to do it for me.”

  For a moment, Viktor was afraid he’d disappointed Skye. Though they had just met, Viktor felt that the elf was, in a way, closer to him than his own men. And so, with a deep sigh, the former knight chose the path of honesty over any other… If he was damned either way, he figured he might as well say out loud what he had buried in the back of his mind…

  “You think I’m doing this for the good of my kingdom?” Viktor asked, with swollen eyes and a brute candor that was almost admirable. “You think I’m in the middle of the Woodlands, risking my life, as a favor to King Rowan? Or a favor to the princess?”

  Skye had no response. But Viktor wasn’t exactly expecting one.

  “No,” he shook his head. “I’m doing this because if I don’t, everything I worked so hard to achieve… my entire legacy, my entire life… will shatter. And I will return to being no more than an old stableman in gods know where. I could have done this covertly, I could have hired twelve men, used one of the lads to do the hiring, but I didn’t… I did it all myself. Because I wanted to. Because people believe more in what they see and not in what they hear… This, all of this, I’m doing for me…”

  He paused there, taking a moment to breathe and allow for it all to sink in.

  “And I’ve failed,” he added. “Perhaps, in the end, I was always doomed to be a horsekeeper in Raven’s Keep… My mistake, perhaps, was thinking I could ever be more than that…”

  Skye felt a tug in their chest that came rather unexpectedly. Viktor felt the tension in his shoulders suddenly ease when the elf did not ride away and leave him to sulk.

  “I hope you succeed, Viktor Crowley,” said Skye.

  Viktor nodded gently, swallowing back the angst. “Thank you,” he said.

  And that was that… They rode in silence for the rest of the day, admiring each other’s company quietly.

  Meanwhile, a few horses behind them, Viktor’s company was riding among the Woodland recruits. Cedric was resting on the back of an old cart, next to a gang of elven archers. He was weak and slow and covered in bruises, but he was awake again and able to make conversation. Gwyn had been riding next to the cart for hours, smiling and laughing with the young squire, speaking to him as if she’d known him all her life. She was kind and warm towards him now, friendlier even than the young lad’s only friend Thaddeus Rexx, and any hostility she’d previously shown had now faded.

  “Rest easy, toothpick,” she said to him. “But do tell me if I’m boring ye to death.”

  “Never,” Cedric smiled honestly. “Tell me more.”

  They laughed amongst one another as she shared stories with him; from the time she chased a bandit out of her family’s farm to the time she was betrothed to a middle-aged man with a bad case of body odor. And for the first time since leaving Val Havyn, Cedric looked genuinely happy, even through all of his bruises.

  Meanwhile, just a few yards behind them, Thaddeus Rexx rode in silence. The man’s face appeared to have a permanent scowl as it was, only this time it was more vivid than before. He didn’t exactly trust the raider woman, nor did he find her particularly affable. And the fact that Cedric was so keen on opening up to her was starting to worry him. Though not exactly prejudice against the nonhumans, Thaddeus had little interest in making any friends or acquaintances. In fact, he purposely rode between two carts of equipment so as to avoid anyone else riding beside him.

  Much to his disdain, however, it did not work.

  Before he knew it, a horse crept up behind him and he heard the sounds of its neighs and a man sipping loudly from a winesack.

  “Why so glum?” Daryan asked, catching up to Thaddeus with minimal effort.

  Thaddeus gave him a grunt. It wasn’t exactly an angry grunt, but it was the best he could come up with.

  “Don’t mind me, Mister Rexx,” Daryan said. “It just seems my dear sister’s taken it upon herself to make a protégé of your little squire. And drinking on my own is no fun. I’d look like a madman if I start speaking to myself. Care for a sip?”

  Thaddeus said nothing still, but he certainly snatched the wine from Daryan’s hands.

  “You look rather well-built,” Daryan said with a smile. “Tell me, how long have you been a sellsword?”

  “I’m not,” Thaddeus said, handing back the winesack. “I’m a blacksmith.”

  “Ahh. A noble profession, indeed. Any good?”

  There was a brief pause. Thaddeus wished he could say ‘Piss off’, but he didn’t have the heart to. Instead he said the first thing that crept into his mind. “I made Sir Viktor Crowley’s armor… Not that the man even remembers it.”

  “Is that so?” said Daryan with his brows arched high. “The armor with the golden eagle on the chest plate?”

  “Aye,” Thad said.

  “Did you really?” Daryan chuckled drunkenly. “Is that real gold?”

  “Don’t get any funny ideas,” Thaddeus threatened him subtly.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Daryan grinned. “Just admiring a good piece of art.”

  Thaddeus raised a brow at first, but then nodded and took the winesack back when it was offered. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Is that onyx?” Daryan asked. “Or just iron?”

  “Fuck iron,” Thaddeus said. “That there’s Kahrran steel.”

  The look on Daryan’s face was one of both awe and respect. “Piss off… Is it really?”

  Thaddeus said nothing in return, and Daryan responded to his silence with a snicker.

  “You know, Mister Rexx,” said the raider, a genuine grin plastered over his face. “I’ve a feeling you and I are going to become well-acquainted by the end of this journey.”

  And so it was that, as simply as that, Thaddeus Rexx had made a friend.

  * * *

  Spring was at its warmest in the city of Val Havyn when the riot started. It was the first of many, and one that would ultimately change the law of the kingdom for ages to come. No one had seen it coming, for the day was just like any other, if not louder and livelier than usual due to the outpour of traders willing to travel into the city now that winter was over. It began when two wagons rolled into Merchants’ Square; one was approaching from the south, the other from the east, both of them moving just as slowly due to the heavy crowds that filled the cobblestone roads at midday.

  The one coming from the south was a rickety wooden cart, pulled by two mules, hauling a pile of what might have been hay hidden underneath a wide brown cloth.

  The one approaching from the east was an elegant black wagon fit for royalty, with a leather roof and white-curtained windows, pulled by two of the king’s strongest stallions. The curtains were shut, but there was a slight opening through which a pair of wary eyes was prying from the inside. The wagon was so clean and refined that when it rolled through Dreary Lane it stood out like a polished emerald among a pile of coal. And from the outside, dangerous-looking men and women roamed and lurked around every corner, posted along the walls of every tavern and saloon, eyeing the wagon as if it were a giant jewelry chest with wheels.<
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  When they reached the end of the road, the curious bookkeeper was able to see the ashen remains of what used to be Nottley’s Tavern; among the clutter lay two or three smoky black figures that may have once been human. Feeling her stomach turning, she sat back and shut the curtain fully, fighting back the urge to vomit. Though she was grateful for the opportunity, Brie was quieter than usual, feeling considerably out of place in the presence of the two nobles. And just as she couldn’t hide any other emotion, her discomfort was overt in her childlike expression.

  Next to her, Lady Brunylda Clark sat sipping liqueur from a leather flask. And across from them both, Lord Regent Darryk Clark sat, too close for his comfort and yet there wasn’t much he could do in such an enclosed space; his feet were pressed together as if to purposely avoid brushing against the Lady’s dress. Though they shared a house name, there was a tension between the two nobles that seemed to come and go. One moment they looked like they wanted to murder each other and the next they seemed almost like actual relatives. And though Darryk undeniably found the Lady intimidating, every now and then he would mirror her tone and hit her with the same scathing sarcasm, as if he was inadvertently learning a thing or two from her.

  “You look displeased,” Lady Brunylda spoke first, after an eye roll and a sip of the flask.

  “We just lost our last good opportunity to keep the city properly protected,” Darryk remarked with a disappointed sigh. “Pardon me if I’m not jumping with delight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the Lady scoffed derisively. “Should I have let him take the girl and have his way with her? Is that how you conduct business down in Roquefort?”

  Brie was sitting right there, but she may as well have been on the other side of Val Havyn.

  “I’m not saying we should have given in to his demands. I’m just saying we perhaps could have found some middle ground.”

  “Men like that don’t settle, Lord Darryk. Trust me, I’ve met plenty.”

  “Still, my Lady, an opportunity like that shouldn’t be walked away from so hurriedly. Especially considering our circumstances.”

  “So if Count Jacquin had asked to shag you, would you have done it?”

  Darryk couldn’t quite find a proper response.

  “No?” the Lady mocked. “What’s the matter? Is he not your type? Too cocky for you, is he?”

  The wagon slowed to a halt, and Brie couldn’t help but peek out the curtain again. A large crowd had gathered in Merchants’ Square, huddled around the self-proclaimed courier of the gods Baryn Lawe as he gave his daily sermon. The two guards driving the Clarks’ wagon observed as the crowds cheered along with Baryn’s provoking shouts. Though the preacher’s words may have been on the side of ignorance, Baryn Lawe was indeed a clever man. The proof was there in his crowd of followers, now twice the size as it was before. He had to be clever to realize the power he could gain by appealing to the small-minded.

  And Val Havyn was unfortunately replete with small-minded folks.

  “The god of humankind is with us tonight!” shouted the despicable man. “I feel his presence. He speaks to me as he does to all of you! All that you must do is lend an ear and you will hear him too. Brothers and sisters, can you hear him? Because I do… He is here today and he is angry!”

  The crowd reacted, some of them chanting Baryn’s name while others simply mumbled and nodded among themselves.

  “Our god is furious… Appalled with his sons and daughters for forming alliances with monsters! Our god will not stand for this, brothers and sisters, and it is our responsibility to do something about it!”

  The crowd applauded and encouraged him. And with every wave of cheers, someone tossed a coin into the moth-ridden hat at Baryn’s feet.

  “You see, many centuries past, long before the age of silver, the gods ruled our world,” the madman went on. “And there was a war among them, brothers and sisters. And our god created us in his vision and his name!”

  “Praise our god!” someone from the herd shouted.

  “Blessed be his name!”

  “May he watch over us all!”

  The more the shouts came his way, the wider Baryn’s grin stretched.

  “The spiteful ones created these vile abhorrent creatures to fight the beloved fruit of our god, brothers and sisters,” he said. “The goddess of the woodland elves created them to destroy us all! As did the goddess of the pixies and the god of the orcs! They have been our enemy since the dawn of humanity itself! And now, my dear friends, we stand here… In the midst of our greatest days… and we sit by as the Kingdom of Halghard welcomes these repugnant monsters into their grounds, spitting on our moral values and everything we hold dear!”

  More chants came from the crowds. Even people from neighboring dwellings and shacks were starting to eavesdrop from their windows, spreading Baryn Lawe’s lies like a disease.

  “We are witnessing the birth or a new age! And it is up to us to decide the fate of our world! You’ve seen it with your own eyes… You stood on these very streets and watched as Sir Viktor Crowley, that dreadful sinner, spat on our god’s name and allied himself with a wanted thief and a witch! If that is the man that is sworn to protect our beloved city, brothers and sisters, then I fear for our future… I fear for the future of our children… Will we allow this man to surrender to these monsters, these freaks, and allow them into our homes?!”

  The shouts grew, this time far louder and angrier than before.

  “Because that is the road we are heading towards, my beloved friends and neighbors… Today, it’s a witch. What will tomorrow bring, I wonder? Will elves be allowed to join the royal guard? Will orcs be permitted to purchase property in our city?! Will these creatures be allowed to live among our people?! Among our children?! Our god has given us his guidance for centuries, it is written in our holy scriptures, and he has made it clear that these are our natural enemies! Their wretched gods created them for one sole purpose and that is to kill and burn every last one of us… The only question we must ask ourselves is will we allow it?!”

  The crowd began to chant, drawing more people in and wreaking havoc on the incoming flow of carts and wagons. Several expressions in the crowd were near horrifying, among them a few that conveyed such violence that was gut-wrenching to say the least. At the same time, frustrated merchants and traders started to hop off their carts, requesting for the herd to disperse, but Baryn Lawe cared very little, he only preached louder.

  “Our god can’t hear you, brothers and sisters!! Will we allow it?!”

  Leading the elegant black wagon were Hektor and his partner, the two guards that Darryk had taken under his wing despite not even knowing their names at first. They sat with the reins in their hands, observing the mendacious preacher and his herd of faithful followers, unable to maneuver their way around.

  “Can you believe that madman?” Hektor mumbled casually as they waited.

  “Makes great points, don’t you think?” his partner remarked.

  Hektor turned away, hiding his distaste for his partner’s appalling breath. “I don’t think that, not in the slightest,” he said.

  “Oh please… Crowley has gone soft. Nobody’s allied with freaks since before the Great War. The bloke’s lost his marbles, he has.”

  “That bloke is your superior, you bloody ingrate!”

  “Not anymore, he’s not. Haven’t you heard?”

  “I have… Doesn’t mean I believe it,” said Hektor. “No official word’s been given on his disbarment. Until we hear it from the king himself, he’s still my knight commander. And yours.”

  “If you truly believe that, you’re as stupid as he is.”

  “You want to see stupidity, Bogden? Do you? Take a gander at this one. Who’s he to know what the gods did or said centuries ago? I can’t even remember what I did a month ago.”

  “Who are you to disbelieve it?” Bogden snorted, exhaling sharply in Hektor’s face.

  “Listen, old lad,” Hektor said, his voice harde
ning. “Firstly, I’m not pretending to know the mysteries of the world, he is. Secondly, I’ve met my share of ‘freaks’ in the past and they’re not at all what he says they are. Hells, my mother used to purchase fur blankets from a Woodland she-elf from Kahrr when I was a wee boy and she was a lot kinder than you are. And lastly, if you don’t exhale in the other direction, I will personally wash your mouth off with more than just soap. Am I clear?”

  The fowl-breathed guard snorted and spat onto the cobblestones.

  “Freak-lover,” he mumbled.

  “Arse-breath,” Hektor replied.

  On the other side of the herd, across Merchants’ Square, the rickety wagon had also slowed to a halt. Adelina Huxley and Old Man Beckwit rode in the front while the twins Margot and Melvyn sat in the back, hiding the infant orc beneath a bundle of wool blankets.

  “Perhaps we should turn around,” Adelina said worriedly.

  “Too late now,” said Beckwit. “We’ve carts waiting behind us. Best thing to do now is to wait and let the old bastard finish.”

  Adelina exhaled deeply, hoping to calm her nerves. And though it worked for a slight moment, the tension in her chest returned with a vengeance when the infant orc began crying.

  No… Not now… Please don’t, she begged him silently.

  “Shhh, quiet down, River,” Margot tried to calm him down with gentle whispers, but it was the hunger that was aching the poor babe, and with every second that passed his cries became louder and more animal-like.

  “Keep him quiet!” Adelina whispered back at her.

  “I’m trying.”

  But it was far too late… Several eyes began to shift in their direction, among them a man with three very visible missing teeth and a heavyset woman with a piece of white cloth wrapped around her head so as to hide the lice. Margot Huxley began shaking, and she caressed River’s cheek to no avail.

  “Shhh, it’s okay… It’s okay…”