by R J Murray
“How did you hear that!” she said, a broad smile turning her handsome face beautiful indeed. “She was second of her ranking and began her training last fall.”
The two old friends walked arm in arm towards the inn, their voices full of joy and laughter as they shared snippets of the lives they had lived the past ten years. There was much to tell and little time before they pushed open the door, struggling against the wind, and entered the poorly lit inn.
A roomful of faces turned their way and more than one bore a scowl at the sight of Syn, but Elva didn’t seem to notice as she scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces.
“There!” She pointed to where Jochum and Wynn sat. “They have ale and food waiting.”
“No, Amina,” Syn said softly, hand resting on the hilt of his dagger as he met the gazes of the crowd stare for stare.
“She’s late. That’s all.”
Syn didn’t quite believe that and a chill ran through him as he let her steer him through the crowd to the table where their friends sat in the furthest corner from the door, and the wide fireplace.
“By all the gods it is good to see you!”
Jochum smiled widely as he rose from his seat and stepped around the table to greet his friends. At sight of the broad shoulders and arms the size of most men’s legs, a lot of the muttering from the other patrons died down.
They would happily take on the slim thief and the woman he arrived with, but few could look at the large warrior and think they could take him on easily. For many, it simply wasn’t worth the trouble and they would leave that to others, like the blacksmith’s journeyman.
He rose from his chair, bracing himself a moment to check his balance and shrugged large shoulders before setting off across the room. His lackeys, two more apprentices and a journeyman miller, rose to their feet with him.
The four friends turned as one, almost as though they could sense the danger approaching and Jochum stepped forward, letting the heavy longsword on his hip be seen. Wynn seated behind him smiled slyly as the stone hanging from his neck began to glow a malevolent green that most closely resembled that of the mould on rotting food.
“Hold now!” the innkeeper called, reaching below the bar for the stout club he kept there. “I’ll have no fighting tonight!”
Jonah, the blacksmith’s journeyman, looked back, a sneer on his face and a readiness to fight that he wasn’t quite ready to let go.
“There’ll be no fighting from us, innkeeper,” Jochum called.
“Your kind ain’t welcome,” the blacksmith's journeyman said loudly so that all the crowd could hear.
“We’ve done nothing but order food and drink.” Jochum made sure to keep his hand away from his sword as he spoke. The last thing he wanted was to fight, but he would defend his friend should the need arise. “Peace brother and share in our bounty.”
“I ain’t yer brother!”
“Jonah! I’ll be talking to your master if you cause trouble!”
The large journeyman hawked noisily and spat at Syn’s feet. The slim man didn’t move, just kept his face still as his eyes moved, keeping track of each of the potential opponents. Unlike Jochum, he was no warrior; he was a killer and a fistfight would leave him at a disadvantage. Should he draw his blade though, the four would be dead before they knew it.
Wynn began to speak, soft words hidden by whispered voice and his fingers moved, drawing lines in the air as his other hand reached for the satchel he carried. Elva hefted her bow, the supple yew wood was hardly meant to be used in a brawl, but if needed it could crack a head or two.
A heavy thud broke the silence in the room and the journeyman’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, poleaxed. Behind him, clutching the heavy wooden tray, Mia stood with wide-eyed innocence.
“I think it’s time to take him home,” she said to his astonished friends.
“He’ll not forget that,” one of the apprentices spat at the serving girl. “When he wakes he’ll come looking for you.”
“Let him look.” Mia lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “I’ll be happy to tell him how you’ve been making eyes with Dara Hansdottir. I might even let it slip that I saw the two of you slip into her da’s barn, not a week after her betrothal to Jonah was announced.”
The young apprentices face flared red and he clenched one hand into a large fist as he took a step towards her.
“I’d not do that,” Jochum said quietly and the young man took one look at his face and his hand dropped.
“Get yourselves home and take him with you!” the innkeeper called. “And the rest of you mind yer business and leave my paying customers alone.”
The innkeeper wagged an admonishing finger at the crowd as the three men lifted the unconscious other.
“Mia! Back to work, girl. If you’ve damaged that tray, I’ll be taking from your wages.”
The serving girl flashed Jochum a smile before spinning on her heel and returning to work, still clutching the tray to her chest. He couldn’t shake the impression that she’d enjoyed that and with a wry smile of his own, he settled back into his seat before pouring a tankard of ale for Syn and Elva.
“Was Amina broke her oath then,” Wynn said as the sounds of the inn returned to normal and the smile quickly left Jochums face.
Chapter 3
Elva slowly descended the stairs, a thunderous hammering going on in her skull. It had been too many years since she had spent the night drinking and she could just imagine what her Petar would say if he could see her then.
That brought a smile to her face and she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the bannister as the smells of cooking food wafted to her from the Kitchen. She clutched her churning stomach and sucked in a deep breath, determined not to vomit inside the inn.
“Hai,” Jochum called from his seat beside the still smouldering fire. “Come sit and drink some of this tea.”
“Tea?”
She cocked one eyebrow as she gave the large warrior a puzzled glance and he smiled unashamedly. He raised his mug to her and gestured for her to join him.
“A lesson I learnt during the long winters on the northern borders,” he said before slurping noisily of his drink. “When the snow was waist deep outside and no way to patrol and nothing to do, that left drinking.”
He poured a generous portion into a second mug from the pot that was warming on the hearth and held it out to her. She took it gratefully in both hands and almost fell into the stiff-backed chair.
“Nothing better, when you wake up with a stinking hangover, than a mug of warm tea and honey. Will set you up right for the day.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She sniffed suspiciously at the tea and tried a sip. It was overly sweet and fragrant, but after a second sip, the churning in her belly began to slow. Reasoning that perhaps he knew what he was talking about, she took another.
“You’re up and about early.”
“Aye.” He scratched at his stubbled chin and grinned at her. “Wynn is an unpleasant roommate.”
“Snoring? I could hear it from across the hall.”
“Aye. How’s Syn?”
“Sleeping finally. A man of his trade tends to sleep during the day.”
“True enough.”
They sipped at their drinks in companionable silence for a short while, listening to the sounds of the cook in the kitchen. The clatter of pans and the shouted instructions to her helpers was a comforting sound for the both of them and allowed them, for a moment, to try to forget that one of their number was missing.
“Do you think he’s right?”
Jochum looked across at Elva. He knew what she was asking and as much as he wanted to shy away from the truth, it couldn’t truly be denied. She hadn’t turned up for the meeting they had agreed upon some ten years past.
The only reason not to have attended would have been death and word of that would have reached him.
Elva let out a soft sigh and placed her mug carefully down on the hearth. It was something she had feared, those past ten years, that one of their number would break their oath and unleash an evil on the land that they couldn’t contain.
In truth, she’d thought it would be Wynn. He was, after all, a mage and one who desired wealth and power more than aught else. He had great appetites and that which they had found had made promises beyond any of their imaginings.
“She was in Thecia, last I heard, living amongst the priests of Ysnir.”
“That was six years back, lass. She’s been in Rial for at least four, in the capital.”
“I passed through there on my way here, if I’d have known…”
The large warrior reached across and patted her gently on the arm, a gesture of familiarity that she would brook from few people. He was one of them though.
“You couldn’t have known. None of us could.”
“I heard bits, here and there.” Elva let out a sigh and rested her elbows on her knees, interlocking her fingers and leaning forward to rest her chin on them. “Of some of you, anyway. You know how people love to talk. Nothing of her, though.”
Jochum nodded slowly, letting her talk though it pained him greatly to hear. Of all of his friends, she had been the one he had most wanted to see. After they had sworn their oath they had all agreed to go their separate ways and her parting had been the hardest.
Over the years he had thought often of her and despite a desire to go in search of her, he had managed to hold off, waiting for the agreed upon time. That she hadn’t joined them spoke of a darkness gathering but worse still was the thought that she had not felt that same need to see him as he had her.
But even worse than that was the reason why she had broken her oath. Of all of them, she had been the most steadfast, the strongest of them in will and dedication to her duty. She was a paragon and they had all, even the surly mage, looked up to her.
“Wynn hears them, on a night,” he said finally. “That thought scares me more than any other.”
“Then you think he’s right? We need to go…”
“Aye.”
“We’ll need a fifth.”
“He thinks the serving girl has the gift.”
Elva looked up then, turning to him with wide-eyed surprise evident on her face. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly deciding not to say what she had been about to and tried again.
“She’s a child!”
“Mayhap a bit younger than Syn when we swore that oath.”
“We had no choice back then. It was all of us or nothing!”
“And the words of that oath were binding. That it has been broken means it needs to be repaired. We need a fifth like you said.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Nay, lass. Nor do I, but we have truly little choice. The whispers are proof enough of the seals weakening and the broken oath means time is short. We don’t have the luxury of finding a willing speaker of the oath.”
“I don’t like it,” she repeated, shaking her head.
In truth though, as much as she didn’t like it, she knew the consequences should the seal break fully. A shiver ran through her at the thought and her mind drifted back to her own daughter, barely eight years old and already in training to be a ranger.
If the seal broke, then her dreams would be ash as a darkness engulfed the land. She had made the oath willingly, knowing the cost, and she couldn’t allow a little weakness now put everything she loved at risk.
“Who’ll talk to her?”
“I will.”
She nodded at that. It was a good decision. The large warrior was handsome enough and while he was no glib-tongued charmer, there was a reason he had been their leader for so long. If any of them could persuade her to come on an uncertain adventure, then it was him.
“And Amina?”
“She broke her oath. Corruption take her, she’ll need hunting down.”
Elva sucked in a breath at the pain in the large man’s voice as he said it. He knew what it would mean and what it would do to him especially, but still, he would do it. There were bigger things to consider and he was one of those few good men who would put others before himself.
“Guess it’s good that she’s close then,” she said finally.
****
Mia hummed a soft lullaby, half-remembered from when she was little, and carefully picked the blackberries from the brambles. Each she picked would join the others in the woven wicker basket that rested on the ground beside her.
She loved the woods on a morning and it was her favourite task to gather the berries for the cook to turn into rich, sweet, jams. Maybe because Elise, the cook, would set some aside for Mia as a treat and there were too few of those in her life.
A bird called from high in the branches above her, singing a bright song that was taken up by many other small voices and she smiled freely. Kneeling in the dew-wet grass, the abundant wildlife all around her and the blessed absence of voices demanding something of her, was as close to peace as she ever really came.
Unfortunately, the peace wouldn’t last. It never did, after all.
She reached for a cluster of berries and waved away a bee that buzzed past her face. The berries came free with little urging and she deposited them in the basket with the others before pushing herself to her feet and brushing the loose debris from her dress.
It was a critical eye she cast over herself, noting the stains on the hem and the sour odour of spilt ale from the dullard, Ames. It had been a busy night and she’d only had a bare few hours’ sleep before being roused to gather the berries and no time between to change.
Galen, while being a sometimes-hard taskmaster, was a good man. He allowed her to sleep in a small room by the kitchen, close enough to the ovens that it was toasty warm even long after the day had ended, and he paid her for her work.
Few of the other villagers would have done the same and unlike those, Galen had never once tried to bed her. Since the deaths of her parents some four years before, it had been a constant challenge to remain un-bedded and one that grew harder the older she became.
She knew that many of the younger men had made a game of it, wagering on who would be the first. If not for Galen’s watchful eyes and stout club, at least one of them would have won that wager whether she willed it or not.
So, it was natural for her to feel a little apprehensive when she turned, basket in hand, to see the tall, broad-shouldered man from the night before. He stood beneath the boughs of an ancient oak tree and watched her work, his expression thoughtful.
“Nay, lass,” he called as she stumbled back, head turning this way and that as she looked for help or a safe passage away. “I mean no harm.”
He raised his hands and watched her like one would a deer about to flee any moment. Her eyes dropped to the longsword he wore on his hip and the leather tunic, thick enough to protect from many a blow.
It was clear that he was a warrior and was familiar with the weapon he wore. The way he carried himself, the way he walked, it all screamed out to any with eyes that he was supremely confident of his abilities. Only one who had the skill to back it up could live that way.
“What d’ya want?”
“Just to talk, lass.”
“I… I have work. Galen’s expecting me back.”
“The Innkeeper?” She nodded, and he smiled in what he hoped was a disarming manner. “He was overseeing a delivery of barrels and will be busy for some time.”
If anything, her eyes widened further and the look of panic she wore intensified and he knew he’d said the wrong thing. He waved his hands gently, as he took a step back.
“Worry not, lass. I truly mean no harm.” He paused to scratch at the side of his head and exhaled softly. “I’m not the best for this sort of thing.”
“What thing?” she asked, feeling a little safer as he moved further back.
“Tal
king to people, mostly.” His grin was warm and inviting, giving him a boyish look that melted away the years on his face. “I tend to action more than chatter.”
Mia nodded slowly, wondering just what sort of action he was talking about and worrying that it was the sort she wanted no part of.
“Tell me of yourself.”
That caught her by surprise and she hesitated, wondering if she could make it back to the inn before he caught her should she run. If she were not wearing a dress with long, ankle length skirts, perhaps.
“What about me?”
“Well, lass. How old are you?”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she watched him, still unsure of his intentions.
“Fifteen.”
“So young.” He shook his head, a momentary doubt clouding his face that was soon gone. “Your parents?”
“Dead.” There was a catch in her throat as she said it and a glimmer in her eyes. “These past four years.”
Jochum slowly lowered himself to a crouch, trying to appear as unthreatening as anyone could when they were over six feet of solid muscle.
“You work for Galen. How does he treat you?”
“Well enough.”
“The other villagers? I saw them last night.”
“Some think they have the right, other know I’ve no parents to pay restitution for damaged goods.”
“God’s this is a backwards country,” the big man said with a disgusted shake of his head.
“What d’ya mean?”
“There’s other countries, other kingdoms, where a man will be imprisoned for raping a woman and not just forced to pay her family recompense.”
She lifted slim shoulders in a shrug and let them fall. It didn’t matter what other countries did when she was in Narra and likely never to leave it.
“You could see them, you know?”
“Not likely.”
“If you leave with us, you could.”
Her bark of laughter startled the birds in the trees above her and they burst upwards, through the branches and into the clear sky. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, but still, her eyes sparkled as she watched.