Misthaven: The Complete Trilogy

by J Battle

  Cavour took a step back from the throne. ‘You have my word and my bond. I will do this, or die in the attempt.’

  ‘I would not have you die, Cavour. Not before I have full time to extract my vengeance.’

  ‘By your leave, my Lord, I will be gone tonight, for there are many miles to travel.’

  Lydorth eased himself from his throne and stepped close to Cavour. He placed one scaly hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Go friend, and let success be your bedfellow. Bring them here to me. Scour the world and bring them here to me. For three Wellstones will bring my three brothers back to this world, and the world will shudder again at our names.’

  The weight of the hand on his shoulder increased, and Cavour braced himself.

  With a long sibilant hiss, Lydorth bent and kissed him; his cold slimy lips covered those of the man.

  ‘Go,’ said Lydorth, releasing him, ‘and do not fail.’

  He watched as the man strode from the hall.

  ‘We must be certain,’ he said, as he turned back to his throne, ‘doubly certain.’

  Chapter 2 Cavour

  Cavour had travelled for days on end, with hardly a stop for sleep or food. Now he felt that he needed a rest, and maybe a tankard or two.

  There was nothing special about The Sap of Life, but it had comfortable chairs, cool ale, and a wholesome lass to serve it. It was also on the main road from Arscarth to Trevlestone, so no diversion was required.

  He drew a long draught from his second tankard and sighed, oblivious to the froth on his ‘tache. He had a view of the road, and of the lass, and he began to relax a little.

  ‘Can I buy you a drink, stranger?’ The voice was light and confidant.

  Cavour looked up at the youth standing close to his table, with his glowing pink cheeks and unruly bob of dark hair, and his dark little eyes.

  ‘Well, that’s mighty kind of you, young sir, to offer a drink to a stranger in your town. And, if you have the purse, then I have the thirst, as they say in my home town. Indeed, the ale here is fine, but a gifted tankard is even more fine.'

  The boy turned towards the bar and Cavour took a moment to study his benefactor. He was somewhat shy of average height, and he walked with a slight limp. His clothes were of good quality, but stained by the road.

  ‘May I sit with you for a moment?’ said the youth, as he plonked two frothy tankards on the table with his left hand.

  ‘You bought the ale, lad, so you will sit where you may.’

  The boy sat and stared across at his table companion, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

  Cavour sighed, and moved the tankards until they were side by side. ‘What name do you go by, my kind drink buyer?’ he said, at last.

  ‘My name is BobbyJ, and you knew my Pa, many summers past.’

  ‘Did I, BobbyJ? That does surprise me, for I am not from these parts. How was your Pa named?’

  ‘Why, he was called RobertJohn, and I’m proud to bear his name.’

  ‘And so you should, boy; so you should. If I remember him at all well, he was taller by some measure, and fair of hair.’

  ‘Your memory does not fail you, Mr Cavour. But I take after my Ma more, and she was dark and slight of build.’

  ‘You are a long way from Doublehill, boy, and from your clothes, I would say you have only just arrived. Am I right, BobbyJ?’

  ‘My Pa always said you were as sharp as a barrel of knives, and he wasn’t wrong, I think.’

  ‘If I push that sharpness a little further and say that you have followed me here, how sharp am I now?’

  BobbyJ laughed and held up his left hand.

  ‘You have me fair and you have me square, Mr Cavour. I been following you these last three days, and that’s no lie.’

  ‘Three days? And I never knew you were there. Indeed you are your Pa’s son, for he could be as sneaky and sly as the man behind him.’

  ‘I want to come with you, sir, and I won’t be nothing of a burden to you; you can be sure on that.’

  ‘But, why would you want to come along with an old cussed liked me?’ Cavour laughed and slurped his ale.

  ‘My pa, he said, if you want to be a real man, and hold your head up and be proud and such, then you need to follow in the footsteps of a real man such as the renowned Mr Cavour.’

  ‘It was most kind of him to say such, but I doubt he meant for you to take his words so literally.’

  ‘Forgive me, sir, but I know what my pa meant, and if he were here today, he’d say go on, son, ask away. So, that’s what I’m doing, sir, and I won’t be no nuisance, and I’m as quiet as a mouse’s shadow.’

  Cavour frowned and looked out of the window. ‘You have a limp, BobbyJ, if you don’t mind me bringing it up, and I have far to travel, with little time for rest or slow walking, and urgent and important business to undertake. What do you say to that?’

  BobbyJ smiled and leaned over his ale. ‘I followed you for three days, and you didn’t dally, yet I kept up with you easy enough, and my limp don’t slow me down none. It just means you’ll be able to keep up with me.’

  Cavour turned back to the table and laughed. ‘Indeed BobbyJ, you are right, in that. But why should I bother with you at all? I work best alone, and I am no nursemaid.’

  ‘I’d say it gets lonely on the road, and two’s safer than one, when trouble pops up its ugly head. And I’ve got good eyes to see, and good ears to hear, and you’ll need that, won’t you, if you are ever to find what you seek.’

  Cavour frowned and turned his attention back to the window.

  ‘What do you know of what I seek, boy?’ he said, quietly.

  BobbyJ smiled and leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘It ain’t no big secret, mister. You’ve being going up and down the valleys and plains for days now, and everyone knows what you want.’

  ‘Do they, boy? Do they really know so much of my business?’ His stone-faced frown was a sight to see.

  ‘No need to get all huffy on me, Mr Cavour, but people ain’t as stupid as they might seem on a cold Monday morning before their brains have awoke. Trust me on it. You ask half a question here, and a quarter question there, and whatever comes next in the other place, and folks, they put all those bits of questions together, and they see what you are after.’

  Cavour sighed. ‘And I thought I was being so clever and subtle.’

  ‘You’re clever enough for two men, I should guess, and I don’t rightly know what subtle means, unless it’s specially supple. I knew a lass who was specially supple; maybe she was subtle as well, but I don’t know.’ He stared off in to the distance, as if he was reliving an especially supple moment.

  ‘So, tell me, BobbyJ, what it is you think I seek. But keep it quiet; I don’t need anyone else to know my business.’

  ‘Anyone else, when everyone already knows?’

  ‘Even so.’

  BobbyJ’s smile widened. ‘You are looking for,’ he whispered, his voice growing quieter with every word, ’the Wellstone, of course.’

  ‘And what do you know of this Wellstone, and its whereabouts?’

  ‘Not as much as you, sir, if you give me pardon to say so; not so much at all.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Cavour drained his tankard and began to look around the room.

  ‘Well, as I said, I been behind you for three days now, so I could see what you were up to. For the first two days, you wandered here, and you strolled there, talking to this fellow and talking to that one. Then, all of a sudden like, the middle of yesterday, you heard something, I reckon. You heard something that set you on this road, with haste in your step.’

  ‘What do you think I heard?’

  ‘Why, the place where this here Wellstone is hiding; that’s what I think, if I may be so bold. And I’s right enough, I think.’

  He studied Cavour’s face for confirmation.

  ‘Have you purse for more ale, lad?’ he said, his face unhelpful.

  ‘If you say I’m right, and say I can come with y
ou, I’ll have you sup all night long.’

  Cavour sat back in his chair, and stretched out his long thin arms. Then he stifled a yawn.

  ‘It’s been a long day, and that’s the truth. I think I’ll take me to my bed and sleep ‘till dawn.’

  ‘Do you have a room here, mister?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve taken a room. Who knows when next I’ll have a bed to sleep in.’

  ‘Is there room for a little one, sir?’ asked BobbyJ, hopefully.

  ‘There’s room enough, son, but I’ll be sleeping alone tonight. You can stretch out in a chair by the fire, if you like.’

  ‘Have you made a decision about what I asked?’

  ‘Decisions should never be made when the brain is slowed by fatigue, or diverted by ale. So, mayhap we’ll speak in the morning, if you rise before I leave, for it will be early.’

  With that said, he left BobbyJ to his own devices and walked slowly across the barroom to the stairs that would lead him to bed.

  BobbyJ watched him go; a slight smile on his face.

  Alone, with the bar emptying all around him, he pulled his right hand from the pocket of his tough canvas trousers.

  The bandage was looking a little grey and a great deal ragged, so he tightened things up as best he could, whilst his mind considered the following day.

  With his hand back in his pocket, he supped the last of his ale and began to look around for a comfortable place to sleep.

  Chapter 3 Anders

  ‘Stand just so, and let me see you in the light.’

  Her cold eyes held his as she adjusted her body slightly.

  ‘Yes, that’s much better. The light shows the tone of your skin, and your hair; so lustrous and dark.’

  Anders took himself on a stroll around her, admiring her full figure in all its wonderful naked aspects. From time to time he’d slow and reach out and lightly touch her smooth clean skin.

  Each time he’d smile as he felt her tense; fighting the urge to resist; the urge to cuss and fight.

  ‘Very good, my dear Clara; you will do very nicely, I’m sure.’

  He turned to the other girl. She was fair where the other was dark; her white skin blushed to pinkness in shame at its own nakedness.

  ‘Now, Loren, let us take a good look at you. If you could stand like…no, that will not do. Let the dog see the cat, as they say. No need to cover yourself up like that. Spread your hands and let us see what wonders the Creator has wrought.’

  The slender girl was standing before him, shivering; covering her breasts and her groin with her hands.

  ‘No harm will come to you, my dear. Not when you are under the protection of Anders the Great.’

  He stepped back, and drew his soft cloak about him.

  Which one to choose? Now, that was the question. The fierce Clara, or the bewildered Loren?

  He was tempted to take Loren; so sweet and innocent. He could teach her all that he required of her, and when the full moon arrived, and the Wellstone required to be fed, then her screams would echo across the valley, and those who heard would know their place.

  But what about Clara? She would fight and claw, and spit and wriggle. But the breaking of her would be sweeter for all of that.

  He laughed quietly to himself. The decision was made. It was one year to the day since he’d relieved the old Mage of the responsibility that had weighed too heavily on his thin shoulders; a year in which he’d transformed his life, and the valley along with it.

  He deserved something special to celebrate; so he’d take them both.

  *********

  'You must go, my dear, and not think to see us again.' Dryan found it hard to say the words.

  'But, Father, I cannot…'

  'Shush, my dear, it can be no other way. The Trytor has spoken, and you will not be safe, so you must be gone before the night wanes.'

  Esmere turned to her mother, distress twisting her face.

  But her mother merely shook her head, as if she could not bring herself to speak.

  ‘But what about everyone else? Mair, Else, Anneless; they are all firstborn.'

  'I will do what I can for them. I will do what I always do; distract and divert, and lead him along a gentler path.'

  'Then I can stay! Surely, you can persuade him not to take your own child?'

  Dryan studied his daughter for a moment. She was so young, yet full of spirit, and the mirror of her mother at that age.

  'No, my daughter. I cannot risk you, not in this. I may have success in diverting his attention from children he knows nothing of, but his mind is set on you. Hug me dear, and say goodbye, and do not think I will ever forget you.'

  He took her in his arms then, and he was sure that he'd never have the strength to release her.

  Then he felt his wife's arms across his shoulders; her body shaking as she sobbed. Then he couldn't tell which of them was crying; if not all.

  At last, Esmere stepped back, her pink cheeks wet with tears. 'Where will I go, Father? What will I do?'

  Dryan touched her cheek. 'Billiam will take you directly south, as far as the coast. There you will book passage on a ship to Fairisle. You will be safe there, and mayhap there will come a time when we can join you there.'

  'Then come now, Father, come now.'

  'Not now, my dear. I have responsibilities here that cannot be put aside. I am the barrier between the worst of Lydorth and his people. Gone, I can do nothing to hold him back. And remember this, my child; I stay because there are children to be saved.'

  'But, he wants you to kill them!'

  His wife took his daughter and led her to the garden, where Billiam waited to do his duty.

  Dryan slumped into his seat, and pulled a pipe from his pocket. As he went through the thoughtless ritual of loading his pipe with his favorite and most pungent pipeweed, he thought on Esmere's last words.

  Lydorth had claimed the heads of all of the firstborn in the land.

  'Well,' muttered Dryan to himself; teeth clenched around his pipe stem, 'he can demand all he wants. Doesn't mean he necessarily gets what he calls for; no, and that's no doubt. Not if I can think of the right path through this dark and tangled wood.'

  Chapter 4 Dryan

  ‘I want the guard split into groups of 10 men, and each team will be assigned separate missions, or exercises if you please, in different parts of the land.’

  ‘Yes, sir, if that is what the Lord Lydorth requires.’ There was an eagerness about Neel, with his twitchy little moustache and boy’s weak beard that unsettled Dryan.

  ‘Of course, I speak for the Lord, though he lacks interest in the details. He has ordered that we do a terrible thing, and we shall follow his orders, for that is the way of the world, but we must be aware of the effect this action will have on our men; both those who implement that action, and those who may look at them askance for the deed they have done.’

  ‘Indeed, and when we have split the men, what then?’

  ‘I shall follow them into the field, and choose one group to accomplish the Lord Lydorth’s will, and none shall know which group has been chosen. Each group must keep their activities over this period in strict secrecy, and not discuss or mention; whether they were merely marching across the hills, or carrying mail to distant towns, or if they be the ones chosen to slay the firstborn of a generation.’

  ‘Dryan, sir, let me lead that special team; let me be the one bent gloriously to the Trytor’s will, for I will not flinch, though I be drenched in the blood and gore of children, though they scream their little hearts out at the sight of my bloodied face. I will serve my Lord, to his honor and glory.’

  ‘You speak well, Neel, and your request is well received, and will be passed onto his Lord. However, it is my place to sacrifice myself in this way, and though I may never sleep again, I cannot step aside and let another take my place. So, you will lead a team, but it will not be the one to do this terrible thing; no.’

  ‘But if the prospect daunts you so, do not put yourself thro
ugh this. Let me take your place. You have done so much for his Lordship; he will not think less of you if you put this ordeal aside.’

  Dryan frowned at the smaller man. Too eager; too eager, indeed.

  ‘No, Neel. You have your orders. Your eagerness to serve Lord Lydorth has been noted, but it must be I who bears this weight, and none other. Here are the assignments I have listed for you. Send the teams out at dawn, and I will meet with my chosen team in the afternoon, for this is a task best performed by dark.’

  ‘Yes, sir, if you say so, sir.’

  ‘Indeed I do, Neel,’ said Dryan, feeling a little satisfied that Neel’s moustache seemed to have lost a little enthusiasm.

  Alone again, he moved to the window and stared down at the town, stretching from the foot of the mountain that held Lydorth’s home, across the plain to the great river.

  How many firstborn were there, scattered across this town? Probably more here than across the rest of the land. So many children threatened with a cruel death on the whim of their Lord.

  So many children for him to save.

  **********

  Aarvarn groaned as he crested the low hill. He didn't like hills; not unless he was taking a walk down one. That was fine. But this walking up hills was another matter altogether.

  He was a Giant; tall, wide and heavy. He was made to stomp along level ground, not drag his great mass up some hope-forsaken mountain.

  He turned his massive head from side to side as his narrow eyes scanned the view below him.

  'Ay,' he said, to Raarvan as he joined him, 'there she be; just as ye said.'

  Raarvan grunted and knocked shoulders with him.

  'There be towns and villages and the like all through this land, I tell ya. And that means ale, vittles and sport. And that's no mistake.'

  Aarvarn banged his great fists against his impressive belly and began his descent, followed by Raarvan and the rest of the percussion; nearly 20 Giants in all.