Legends of Gravenstone: The Secret Voyage

by Alex Aguilar

  Only it wasn’t okay. The more she swayed him back and forth, the louder the child cried. One of the two nearby peasants hissed at her to keep the baby quiet while they listened to Baryn Lawe’s sermon. And it was in that unfortunate moment when the blanket slid off the baby’s face, exposing his smoky green skin. The two peasants took notice, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping with outrage.

  “What in all hells is that?!”

  More eyes glanced their way… Impulsively, Adelina reached back and snatched River from her daughter’s hands. And when she did, the sun brightened River’s face, exposing him to the crowd that began to gather around the wagon.

  “What’ve you got there?!” someone asked rather loudly, causing even more commotion to stir. The cart was then caged in by radical peasants attempting to catch a glance. Angry glares were shot at Adelina and curious mumbles began to spread.

  “That there’s a freak!” shouted another.

  “She’s brought a monster into our city!”

  The mumbles grew into a wave of angry chatter, as Baryn Lawe himself hopped down from his pedestal and began approaching the cart. The crowds dispersed and made way for him as if he were some sort of lord or king. “Stay calm, brothers and sisters! Stay calm!” the preacher said.

  By then, Adelina Huxley’s cart was the center of attention in the entire square. Still a few yards away, Baryn could not stop his angry herd of fanatics from growing more chaotic. One of them tried to climb onto the cart, but Old Man Beckwit stood up almost intimidatingly and shoved him back with the tip of his cane. And just before Baryn reached them, a peasant suddenly reached and pulled the cloth from the back of the cart, and it made the entire place fall silent for a moment… There she was, the helpless orcess Aevastra, weak and feeble and shivering from the pain. Next to her was the blacksmith Evellyn Amberhill, scarred and unconscious; she was a familiar face to some of the peasants, except half of it was now covered with bloodstained bandages.

  “Stay away!” Adelina shouted.

  And the crowds certainly did. The shock was far too great for anyone to step forward.

  “Well, well, well… What do we have here?” Baryn Lawe said as he walked around the cart and towards the back for a better view.

  “Stand back!” Adelina kept on. But neither Baryn nor his followers paid her any mind. As he stepped forward, the rest tiptoed closely behind as if he was the head of a poisonous snake. Every single pair of eyes was locked on Aevastra, as if the poor wounded orcess was some type of animal on display.

  “By the gods… it’s one of them,” said Baryn, softly at first but his voice heightened bit by bit into a shout. “You dare bring the enemy into our city grounds…?! You irreverent traitor!!”

  The crowd became instantly enraged. Adelina Huxley and Old Man Beckwit hopped to the back of the cart and shielded the twins, the orcess, and the unconscious blacksmith from the rampant fanatics. Some tried to tug at the orcess’s feet while others began throwing garbage and moldy fruit their way, all the while shouting obscene rubbish.

  “Give ‘er to us!”

  “Hang the freak!”

  “Away, you traitorous bitch!”

  Never had Adelina Huxley been faced with such hate and violence, even when her house was being attacked by orcs. In a way, the woman could hardly tell the difference; she kicked and shoved them all away as they tried again and again to pull the orc babe and his mother down from the cart. Aevastra was roaring, both from the pain and from the anguish, and the peasants cursed and shouted at her as if she were some sort of beast.

  From the other side of the square Hektor and Bogden, the two guards riding the Clarks’ wagon, became suddenly restless and worried, unsure of what to do. In a matter of seconds, Merchants’ Square was on the verge of a riot, and both of them knew very well that the city was dangerously unguarded for such behavior.

  A head peeked out from inside the wagon, and the voice of Lady Brunylda Clark startled them both. “What in all hells is happening out there?!”

  “Orcs, my Lady!” Hektor said. “Orcs in the city!”

  The Lady’s eyes widened suddenly with terror.

  Immediately the wagon doors swung open and out came the three of them.

  “By the gods,” Darryk Clark mumbled restlessly at the sight of the screaming herd. He then turned towards his two guards and shouted, “To our sides, gentlemen! Shields up and swords at the ready!”

  The guards obeyed nervously, one of them beckoning from afar for backup.

  Darryk walked ahead first, the Lady and Brie following behind. They sped towards the center of the square, where things were starting to become violent. Most of the crowd dispersed on their own, while the most stubborn ones had to be shoved out of the way by the guards.

  “Make way!” Hektor shouted. “Make way for the Lord Regent!”

  Darryk stepped forward, quite visibly nervous yet making his best attempt at a stern glare. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked loudly over the chatter.

  “Lord Regent Clark,” Baryn Lawe stepped forward with a grin, talking to Darryk as if they were both of great authority. “At last we meet in person, my Lord. And may I say your timing could not be better.”

  Six more guards approached, lining up evenly with Hektor and Bogden, shielding the Clarks and their bookkeeper at both sides.

  “We have here a traitor of the crown, my Lord,” said Baryn. “She has brought a plague into our beloved city!”

  Adelina Huxley and her family stood on top of the cart, their eyes filled with both dread and relief at the sight of the Clarks. “Please, my Lord,” she tried to speak out. “If you’ll allow me t-”

  “Shut your mouth, you traitorous wench, you’ve no right!” Baryn shouted. “Any man or woman that dares bring the enemy into our grounds deserves to be burned along with it!!” The crowd began to shout angrily, some of them carrying wooden clubs in their hands, prepared to swing.

  “Order!” Hektor shouted, and Bogden had to echo him to keep control of them all. As Darryk stepped forward, the six guards shifted and worked together to fight back the herd, slowly forming a wall of steel around the cart.

  “State your name,” Darryk said.

  “With pleasure, sir,” Baryn replied with a bow. “I am Baryn Lawe of Val Hav-”

  “I was not speaking to you, sir.”

  “Oh…”

  Darryk had a hand on his belt, near the hilt of his sword, and it was enough for the preacher to become silently intimidated and step back, his arms extended at his sides so as to move his followers with him.

  Darryk and Brunylda Clark allowed for their eyes to take it all in. Aevastra appeared to be near-death, her dark green skin becoming pale and stripped of its glow, and next to her was the unconscious blacksmith, whose bandages were starting to drench and trickle. The rest appeared uninjured, but tired and filthy all the same, and the infant orc’s whimpers echoed throughout the square.

  “Feast your eyes, my lord and lady,” said Baryn Lawe. “Feast your eyes on the plague that this wretched woman has br-”

  “Oh, shut your mouth, you blithering imbecile,” said Lady Brunylda with a surprising amount of poise that stunned them all. She stepped forward, her eyes glancing back and forth from the orcess to Adelina and the baby in her arms. The silence was eerie… Adelina felt as if the entire world was looking at her, and she had no idea where to even begin.

  “Who are you, woman?” asked the Lady Clark, with a hint of what may have been admiration in her eyes. It was obvious because the Lady hated everyone. And such a look coming from her was more than rare.

  “Adelina Huxley of Elbon, m’lady,” she introduced herself with a bow.

  “Huxley?” the Lady asked with a raised brow.

  There were some murmurs in the crowd, most of which came from acquaintances or people who had heard the rumors of the young farmer that had fought and captured the wanted thief Hudson Blackwood.

  Lady Brunylda’s eyes did not leave Adelina’s. Ther
e was an evident tension between the two women, the commendable kind, as if they could somehow read each other through a stare. They had never met before in their lives, and yet they didn’t need to. All of Val Havyn knew that Brunylda Clark hardly met anyone she felt any form of empathy towards. Until now.

  “You’re… John’s mother,” the Lady said, to which Adelina responded with a tense nod.

  Darryk was far too distracted keeping his eyes on the herd. His guard Hektor, however, noticed the bright red head of hair standing out against the wood of the cart.

  “My lord? I-Is that…”

  Darryk followed Hektor’s eyes… And then a chill ran up his spine…

  There she was, the very same blacksmith woman from whom he had purchased weapons and equipment just a day prior. Or rather a dreary image of her, covered in blood and dirt. “Miss Amberhill?” he said as he caught a closer look. “By the gods…”

  Merchants’ Square had never felt so cold and tense. Adelina suddenly regretted ever stepping foot inside the city to begin with. “M-My farm’s been burned down, m’lady,” she said. “Destroyed by orcs. Please, we need your help.” Adelina had hardly ever begged anyone in her life. But something about Lady Brunylda’s demeanor towards her was giving her the courage to swallow her pride.

  “Show me,” the Lady Treasurer said.

  Nervously, Adelina handed the baby to Margot to hold as she climbed down from the cart. Then she took it back and presented him to the Clarks. River had stopped crying by then and was looking up at Lady Brunylda, smiling and blinking those glistening yellow eyes, the kind of eyes that could warm even the coldest of hearts.

  The Clarks’ expressions were not what Adelina had expected.

  There was more warmth there than in anyone else’s eyes for miles.

  Ordinary, was all that Lady Brunylda could think to describe the child. Ordinary and gentle in every way, the poor thing…

  “We found him by the river, m’lady,” Adelina said. “A-Along with his mother.”

  “I knew it,” Baryn Lawe spoke from afar. “The invasion has already begun… Soon, our kingdom will be crawling with their kind. Our very enemy w-”

  A sword was drawn… Darryk Clark suddenly became the image of the Roquefort knight he was known to be. And for the first time since becoming Lord Regent, he actually felt like himself.

  “Not another word, sir. It is your final warning,” he said, his blade up and ready.

  And Baryn certainly held his tongue, his hands up in the air so as to convey his frailty.

  “Please, m’lord,” Adelina said as she bundled the infant back into the warmth of the blanket. “We’ve nowhere else to go… Please, will you help us?”

  The citizens began to speak softly among themselves, mostly in disapproval. Lady Brunylda wanted to speak out, but she knew very well it wasn’t her place. Her word would only anger the crowds further, and she was aware of it. But when she turned to the Lord Regent, he appeared more frightened than anything else, even with his sword drawn.

  Darryk wanted to help them, every one of his instincts urged him to, but he knew that his guards were outnumbered nearly twenty to one. And things grew only tenser when the crowds began shouting again.

  “Hang the orc bitch!” they said.

  “Burn them all!”

  “Traitorous scum!”

  Darryk Clark was suddenly covered in sweat. His guards were looking to him for guidance and yet instead his mind drifted from him, haunting him with dark thoughts, and he began shivering… Never had he shivered when he was under threat from an enemy. Being under threat from those he swore to protect, however, was entirely new to him. And the man had no idea where to even start.

  “O-Order,” he said, but his voice was far too weak. “I-I demand order…”

  “Kill them all!”

  “Monsters!”

  “To hells with the lot of them!”

  Lady Brunylda Clark almost felt pity for Darryk. Within seconds, the man had lost control of the situation and it was only getting worse, as angry peasants began throwing things and closing in on them all. It was like a raging storm that they’d been shoved right into the center of.

  Come on, you stupid man. Do something, the Lady thought. If you lose them now, you lose them forever. Do something!!

  Darryk was suddenly shoved by the crowd. He stumbled forward, his sword still drawn, and when he glanced back, there was a sea of hands holding old fruit and garbage that were meant for him. Unless he sliced them all one by one, there was no way for him to prevent the riot from happening.

  Damn it all to hells, you useless dim-witted child!

  And with that final thought, Lady Brunylda Clark did what she often did.

  She took matters into her own hands…

  “Order!” she shouted, taking Old Man Beckwit’s hand and climbing onto the back of the cart to stand among them. “ORDER, I say!!”

  “You heard the Lady! Order!” one of the guards repeated. Lady Brunylda’s brute confidence began to spread to the guards, and one by one they held their shields up firmly and began threatening the herd with the tips of their blades.

  “Order!” she shouted again, using her owl-like eyes to demand their attention.

  Come on, you dumb bastards… Lend me your ears just for a minute and I will show your little Lord Regent how it’s done…

  The herd grew calmer, their focus shifting towards the Lady.

  Within seconds, she was at the center of attention…

  “Order, I say! Or, by the gods, you will answer to his majesty King Rowan!”

  The mumbles diminished, and the Lady could very clearly make out the dozens of nasty stares judging her silently from afar.

  “This is Val Havyn, the capital of Vallenghard!” she shouted, the vein on her forehead sticking out like never before. “And we will not tolerate this kind of depraved conduct in our city grounds!”

  “Hang the orc bitch!” someone shouted, and it was followed by a few barks of agreement.

  “We will hang whoever calls her an ‘orc bitch’ again,” the Lady remarked, and it was met with an eerie silence, the kind that could either turn violent or make them all think. “Have you all lost your senses?! Is this how low you’ve sunk?! Citizens of the greatest city in all of Gravenstone, acting like a pack of vultures spouting nonsense?! Is that the reputation you want for your city?”

  Darryk Clark stood by the cart just beneath her, though he appeared more like a soldier than a Lord Regent. The sweat on his forehead was still there, but he no longer allowed it to consume him. He felt prepared for whatever came next.

  “Well?! Is it?! The fucking disgrace!” the Lady shouted, so harshly that a few specks of spit flew out of her lips. “Rioting while your king and his army fight for you? While they risk their lives overseas for you? And you’ve the nerve to spit on his name by rioting in his city streets…? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you all locked in the dungeons and throw the key into the creek…”

  Darryk Clark caught his breath, his frightened eyes conveying both relief and shame all at once. Next to him was Brie, who had been shielded through most of the shoving, but her hair had been stained by a foul-smelling slime that she hoped was just old egg. Both of them were frightened, it was clear. And for a moment, they were both looking up at the Lady as well. They knew that Brunylda Clark had the tendency to be harshly adamant and direct. At that moment, however, she was nothing short of marvelous…

  “We will have peace and order, mark my words,” the Lady went on. “If not by will, then by force, but we will have it! Until the king has returned safely, you are to greet your Lord Regent with respect or you do not belong in Val Havyn!”

  The majority had by then calmed themselves but, as expected, a couple of rebels among the herd kept on.

  “Traitors!” they shouted.

  “Blasphemous scum!”

  “They brought freaks here!”

  “Precisely, you ignorant fools, they were brought here,�
�� Lady Brunylda spoke down to them. “And we will see to it that they are escorted back to where they came from, I assure you. In the meantime, there’s no need to act like animals.”

  “Curse you!”

  “Traitor!”

  “We should burn you with ‘em!”

  More grunts of agreement came from the herd. But Lady Brunylda was far smarter and knew better than to lose control again so quickly.

  I can do this all day, you bastards… Unlike you, I don’t bark unless I mean to bite…

  “You,” she raised a finger at the crowd. “Step forward…”

  A few of them dispersed, shifting the focus onto a buck-toothed peasant in his mid-thirties with a cap over a shaggy head of brown hair.

  “What was it you just said?” she asked him directly. “Was that a threat I just heard?”

  A silence followed… The peasant glanced around, realizing the stares were not as friendly as he had hoped. “W-We don’t want freaks in ‘ere,” he said. “We just want our children to be safe… Hang the orc bitch ‘n’ let ‘er rot in a pile of ‘er own shit!”

  The Lady Clark fought the urge to roll her eyes, suddenly feeling the need for a good drink. “That’s quite a tongue you’ve got there, young sir,” she said. “One more word from it and I’ll have to remove it. Is that clear?”

  Silence again… And this time, it remained… The Lady had to fight off a few cold stares, but she had seen more than her fair share in her life and they didn’t frighten her in the slightest.

  “I will not repeat myself, so I will ask that you all listen closely,” she said, this time speaking to the entire herd. “As of this moment… Anyone who dares threaten the peace in this city will be punished for it. Anyone who speaks ill of the Lord Regent, anyone who even looks at him the wrong way, will be thrown into a cage and left to starve. Is that clear?”

  The silence spoke for itself. And with one final cold stare, Lady Brunylda sighed deeply and gave Darryk a glance. “They’re all yours, my Lord.”

  Darryk Clark sheathed his sword again nervously.

  He did not belong there, he knew… He did not belong anywhere within a fifty miles of Val Havyn, in fact. And yet, as he looked all around, every pair of eyes had shifted their attention towards him. All eight of his guards were staring at him, awaiting his orders. He had his sword and eight more to back him up and yet Lady Brunylda had gained back control of the masses using only her words…