Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga

by Tyson, Mark

  Trendan and Ganas waited as the form of a woman appeared in the fading light, followed by a magnificent black mare with a white patch on its nose. The woman wore all dark leather and carried a wicked-looking sword of a design Trendan had not seen before. She had long, flowing raven hair and appeared to be a daughter of man, but with sharp features. Trendan was immediately smitten with her. When she stood but a few feet from Trendan, he could see her eyes were a striking emerald green.

  “Are you going to tell me your names or will you just stand there staring at me?”

  Trendan regained his senses. “I am Trendan Faylor and this is Ganas Nashe, and we are scouts of Symboria. May I ask your name, fair lady?”

  “You may,” she said. She smiled but said nothing.

  Ganas and Trendan just stared at her dumbfounded.

  She sighed that they did not know to ask her formally. “I am called Fayne.”

  “Fayne? What kind of name is that?” Trendan blurted out.

  “It is the name my mother gave me. What kind of name is Trendan?”

  “Forgive me, my lady, I misspoke myself,” Trendan said, feeling silly for his sudden outburst. “Why have you come back into the mountains? Brookhaven is only a few hours away.”

  “I got lost and remembered this cave. I could see it from the trail, and I thought I could stay here for the night. I had not realized that Brookhaven was so close.”

  “We could take you there if you wish,” Ganas offered.

  “That is thoughtful of you, but I think I will be fine here in this cave for the night.”

  “These mountains can get cold overnight. Are you certain you want to stay?” Trendan asked.

  Fayne at first looked confused and then nervous. “I cannot go to Brookhaven. I would be found there.”

  “Oh, by whom?” Trendan asked, his eyes narrowing instinctively.

  “Enforcers. They are riding across the mountains if you must know.”

  Ganas gasped. “Are you a…”

  “Wielder,” she finished. “Not in the sense you know.” She paused for thought. “I am not sure I should tell you my business, and I don’t know whether or not you can protect me.”

  “We will not protect you from Enforcers if that is what you mean,” Trendan clarified.

  “I can evade the Enforcers well enough,” she said, “but the army traveling over the mountains from Scarovia is a different matter.”

  “You have seen Naneden’s army?” Ganas asked.

  “I have; they are still several days behind me.”

  Trendan scratched his head. “It is not safe for you to stay here if what you say is true. We will escort you back to Brookhaven. The army of the West is there; besides, the Enforcers would not find you in one night.”

  “They move faster than you know, good Trendan,” she said.

  “We just left a few hours ago and there was no sign of any Enforcers. In fact, many of the villagers have already left Brookhaven for Symbor; the Enforcers will probably have their hands full if they’re trying to check all the travelers on the road.”

  Fayne looked back at the cave. “I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, but I prefer this cave to Brookhaven at the moment. The Enforcers will go there eventually, and I do not intend to make it easy for them to capture me.”

  “Suit yourself. You will probably be captured by an invading army if you stay out here, but I will not debate the issue further.” Trendan led his horse. “Come on, Ganas, leave her be.”

  “Wait, Trendan, nightfall is coming, why not share the cave? We can talk about returning with her in the morrow,” Ganas said.

  “I would welcome your company,” Fayne added.

  Trendan nodded. “It is logical for us to stay in the cave.”

  Trendan suspected Ganas had ulterior motives for the statement, but after surveying the sky and feeling the first hints of the cold air of night, he dismounted.

  The interior of the cave was much the same as any other cave: dark, damp and ominous. This particular cave had been used in one form or another by travelers for ages. Trendan could make out black smudge marks where the smoke from fires and lanterns had stained the ceilings. Fayne had already gathered up wood for a fire, and she had cleared a spot for her horse to stable that was easily large enough for all three horses.

  “Ganas and I will unsaddle our horses. We brought some provisions of cheese, dried beef, and beans from the inn.”

  “I brought some wild berry wine as well,” Ganas said as he pulled a bottle from his saddlebags.

  Fayne’s eyes widened at the mention of wine, but she quickly regained her composure and began to work on starting the fire. She had made a pit out of several stones. The foundation had already been there from travelers who had built fires there before. She lit the fire by striking flint and steel, and it picked up quickly.

  Trendan reheated the beans on the fire, and Ganas sliced the bread and cheese. Trendan cut some dried beef for each of them, and they washed down the meal with the wine Ganas had brought.

  After they had eaten, Trendan produced his long clay pipe and stuffed it with tabac. Ganas followed with his pipe. Trendan lit his pipe with a long stick from the fire and handed it to Ganas.

  “That pipe smells divine. What are you smoking?” Fayne asked Trendan.

  “It’s tabac grown in Adracoria with ground in cherry blossoms. I have another pipe here somewhere if you care to try it.”

  “I would indeed, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Trendan said, rummaging through his pack for his spare smoking pipe.

  Older women in Brookhaven often smoked pipes. They claimed it cured their aching bones. Ganas had always been suspect of the tabac they used.

  Trendan found the pipe and packed it with tabac from his pouch. He handed it to Fayne with a smile. “I do not mean to be presumptuous, but do you know how to light a pipe?”

  Fayne stared at him and giggled as if he were joking. “My greatfather, my father’s father I mean, smoked a pipe, and I have smoked one on occasion. Back in my village we often smoked pipes in the cold to warm ourselves.”

  “What village is that?” Ganas asked.

  Fayne looked down at her pipe thoughtfully and then began to light it. “It no longer exists, I’m afraid. It was more a mountain camp than a village really. Dramyds raided it when I was in my fourteenth season.”

  “Dramyds? I have not heard of a full Dramyd raid since I was a small boy, and even then the story was meant to scare me and keep me from wandering off too far into the woods,” Ganas said.

  Trendan removed his pipe and let out a puff of smoke. “I was not so fortunate; I have fought Dramyds only this last spring.”

  “You never told me of this,” Ganas said.

  “I try to forget. Pray you don’t run into them anytime soon, Ganas.”

  Fayne puffed out a cloud of white smoke. “My family lived here in the Jagged Mountains near the Scarovian border, but I am sure you are too young to remember what Scarovia was like before Naneden came to power.”

  Trendan smiled and took another puff from his pipe. “Don’t be so sure about that, my lady, I am half-elven. When I was a boy, it was near forty seasons ago.”

  “Well, that is just about right then. I was about fourteen seasons that long ago,” Fayne moved her hair aside to reveal slightly pointed ears.

  “Half-elven too?” he asked.

  “I suppose you could say that. This is a land largely surrounded by the elven folk. I am told that many of the men in Symboria came to this land from Lux Amarou. Did you know that across the ocean there is a vast land where the races of men flourish?’

  “I have heard stories of great empires and kingdoms across the sea,” Ganas said.

  “So, if you are a half-elf, which parent was elven?” Trendan asked.

  Fayne sighed and looked to the ground.

  “I am sorry; it is not my business to ask. I have offended you.”

  “No, you did not offend me. My mother w
as a pure elf; I believe you would call her Arillian, and my father was a now extinct race of dwarf called Noanas. They were taller than dwarves but just as hardy. Scarovian raids killed my father and his people. I am the last of my father’s line.”

  “I have never heard of an elf and dwarf mating,” Ganas alleged.

  “As I have already said, you would not recognize my father and his people as dwarves. That is as close of a description I could come up with. My father’s people were more like shorter, stockier versions of men. In fact, that is why I look less like an elf. My father’s stock is strong within me.”

  Trendan sat back against a rock. “I am curious, Fayne, why do you travel through Symboria?”

  “I was sent to meet someone called Vesperin from your village.”

  Trendan perked up. “Why were you sent to see him?”

  “I am to marry him.”

  Trendan coughed and almost dropped his pipe. “You are to marry Vesperin? Who gives you this charge?”

  “Do you know Vesperin?” she asked curiously.

  “He is my best friend, and he has never mentioned you. I would have remembered.”

  “I have been dreaming of Vesperin all my life. Last spring my dream told me it was time to seek him out and marry him.”

  “You are here because of a dream?” Ganas asked with surprise.

  “In my culture, dreams are very important messages from the gods. Are they not in your culture?”

  “Not exactly, our culture is fearful of such things,” Trendan explained.

  “And Vesperin is from such a culture?” she asked with concern.

  “Well, yes he is.” Trendan shifted his weight. “He may not be as receptive of you as you are of him, especially if you approach him with a marriage proposal.”

  Fayne’s expression became one of disappointment. “I see. I was hoping he had been receiving the same dreams I have been.”

  “That is possible. Vesperin doesn’t tell us much about his dreams.”

  “True, he claims not to remember any of them,” Ganas said, puffing on his pipe. “Come to think of it, neither does Dorenn.”

  Fayne’s expression lightened. “So he could be dreaming of me.”

  “Even if he does dream of you, he will likely go pale when you show up in the flesh,” Trendan said.

  “Please make sure I am around when you appear to him,” Ganas said. “I would dearly love to see his face.”

  Fayne smiled and puffed on her pipe.

  A gust of wind blew down the mountain and whipped around the cave’s mouth. The horses began to get restless and move closer together against the damp cave wall. At first, Trendan thought the horses were spooked by the sound of the wind whistling through the cave’s mouth, but when the wind stopped, the horses still reacted. Trendan sat up abruptly.

  “Something spooks the horses.”

  “Quick, extinguish the fire,” Ganas said. “There are voices outside the cave.”

  Fayne threw handfuls of dirt from the entrance onto the fire, extinguishing it down to embers. Trendan directed the spooked horses farther into the cave and then rejoined Ganas and Fayne at the cave’s entrance. The three crouched down and listened. The voices did not sound as if they were speaking in common tongue. The language was low and guttural. Trendan could hear the distinctive sound of armor and troops marching in the distance. Fayne’s expression told him that her half-elven ears heard it too. Trendan moved in close to Ganas. “The Scarovian army marches.”

  Ganas gasped. “That means Captain Argore’s troops in the southern pass have been defeated or routed.”

  “Pack your things; as soon as we can get clear of the army, we ride for Brookhaven. We have to warn the general.” Trendan looked at Fayne. “I thought you said they were several days behind you.”

  “They were. No army can move that fast,” she said.

  “We have to ride hard to get ahead of them if they are moving that fast. You will have to ride with us, Fayne, I’ll not leave you behind.”

  “Where you go, I will follow.”

  “Gather up what you want to take from here. We will have to move fast. If they discover your wagon, they will send scouts.” Fayne gathered her pack as Trendan retrieved the horses. Ganas re-saddled his horse and secured the packs. As the army marched below, they slipped out of the cave down to the east-west trail and turned west.

  The waxing moon above lit the way through the trees toward Ashonda’s Peak where Trendan knew there was a mountain road that would take them directly into the village. With luck, he would meet a patrol on that road. The cold air stung his face, but he did not waver. Fayne and Ganas followed close behind. They rode for what felt like hours until Trendan could see the lights of Brookhaven and smell the hearth fires burning. The Western army had a camp less than a mile to the north of the village, and Trendan headed directly for it.

  As they got closer, Trendan realized the camp was already stirring.

  “The Scarovian army marches,” Trendan shouted to the captain’s tent. A man fully dressed in black armor exited, still buckling his sword, to meet him.

  “A patrol group from the mountains arrived just before you did, lad,” he said. “Take your position, the army is preparing to intercept them.” He motioned to a man leading horses. “Stableman, give these lads fresh horses.” He focused his attention back to Trendan. “I need you to alert the east and west flanks.”

  “I will do what I can,” Trendan said as he dismounted to accept the fresh horse. Fayne watched him dismount intently. “Fayne,” he said, “go to Brookhaven, to the Tiger’s Head Inn, and ask for Lourn or Dellah Adair and tell them I sent you.” He slapped her mare’s hindquarter, and the horse lunged forward. Fayne tried to protest, but Trendan motioned her on. Reluctantly, she seized the reins and rode toward the village.

  “I stand ready, Captain,” Trendan said. The captain handed Trendan and Ganas each a parchment. “Good luck, lads,” he said.

  Trendan mounted his horse and headed west, while Ganas headed east.

  Chapter 15: Betrayal

  Captain Felladan stood at the helm of The Sea Goddess behind his helmsman and first mate, Edifor, when Ianthill and Gondrial arrived.

  “Going somewhere, Captain?” Ianthill asked.

  The captain’s expression was that of irritation and puzzlement. “What in the thunder are you talking about, old man? The Sea Goddess remains docked.”

  Ianthill stood close to Captain Felladan’s face. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “When a ship clears its moorings but doesn’t retract its gangplank, I start to get suspicious.”

  The captain tried to step back, but Ianthill stayed with him. “I did conduct several tests with the rudder as I do frequently; it is no concern of yours how I run this ship, wielder. Besides, the helm reports that she has been sluggish in her response.”

  “Did you have to remove the moorings to test the rudder?” Gondrial asked.

  “I did,” he said, not offering any more in the way of an explanation. “Now if you do not mind, I have work to do if I want this ship to sail in the morrow. Be gone with the lot of you.” The captain gestured with his hand for them to leave and then turned back to the helm. The first mate smiled a toothless grin at Ianthill, and the captain slapped the back of his head. “Face forward, Edifor.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Edifor said, still smiling but looking straight ahead.

  “Sorry to presume so much, my captain,” Ianthill apologized bowing. The captain just nodded.

  After they had moved out of earshot, Gondrial spoke. “Do you believe him, Ianthill?”

  “Not a blasted word. He lies like Toborne himself.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Nothing at the moment. We are going to play this out and see where it leads us.”

  “That can be a dangerous game, Ianthill, especially out at sea,” Gondrial warned.

  “We live in a dangerous time, my apprentice, and danger is always with us. What is a little more?” he
said.

  Gondrial began to speak, but he let the words trail off.

  Ianthill eyed Gondrial appraisingly. “Now, let us plan a little mutiny shall we?” Ianthill did not wait for Gondrial to reply before he began a brisk walk to the stern of the ship.

  Gondrial smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Sounds like fun.”

  Dorenn had barely slept; he tossed and turned all night worrying. His dreams were plagued with visions of desperation and madness.

  “Are we underway yet?” Dorenn asked Rennon, who shared his cabin.

  “I have just gotten up with you. I have no idea.” The two looked out of the only porthole in the cabin. “Nope, we are still docked at the moment,” Rennon observed.

  Dorenn rose from his bed, used the pitcher of water and bowl on the sea chest in the corner, washed off, and then dressed himself. “Would you like me to go and fetch you some clean water, Rennon?”

  “If you would, I would be grateful, especially since that water was brought by the galley master while you were ill last eve.”

  “It was still fresh, I assure you.” Dorenn opened the cabin door. “I’ll return in a moment.”

  “Take your time. I will rest my eyes a little bit more while I wait,” Rennon said, closing his eyes.

  Dorenn’s head was throbbing as he walked to the galley, and he could not be sure if it was the ale or the lack of sleep. He forced the thought from his mind as he refilled the water pitcher and turned back toward his cabin. Strange, disturbing images began to dance through his thoughts as he passed the cabin of Tatrice. Dorenn grimaced and clutched his head with his free hand, almost spilling the water. After a moment, he continued on toward his cabin.

  He entered the cabin and roused Rennon once more. “Here’s your water, Rennon, I’m going to check on Tatrice. I’ll see you in a few moments.” Rennon grumbled something that sounded close to the word okay, and Dorenn returned to Tatrice’s cabin. He stood outside of her cabin door, and the images returned. He could see hazy visions of Tatrice being hauled away by the creatures at Signal Hill, but instead of stopping where Dorenn and the party found her, she was captured by the Enforcer, Row Praf, who had taken her back through the woods. Dorenn knocked on the cabin door.