by Adams, David
Luke moaned softly and dragged himself to his feet. A farm boy, he was used to getting up before the sun, but he now understood how accustomed he had grown to sleeping in a bed.
Darius hid his smile behind the piece of dried meat he was breakfasting on.
“Got any more of that?” Luke asked.
“You didn’t bring any food?” Darius replied with mock surprise.
“Didn’t have as much chance to pack as you did. Just a few changes of clothes and a full water bottle.” Luke held up the small pack he had used as a pillow.
Seeing that Luke, at least for the moment, was being serious, Darius bestowed the remainder of the meat upon him. “Let’s get moving,” he said as Luke devoured the meal in three swift bites. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”
After they had settled into a good walking rhythm, Darius asked, “So why are you walking along with me?”
Luke sighed and rolled his eyes. “I thought we went over this last night.”
“We’ll soon hit the Old Road. The King’s Guard will be patrolling the highway, which is a good thing, because there are a lot of people who are suffering with the war and all. And some of those people are desperate enough that they’ll take whatever they need from those that can’t defend themselves.” He patted his sword to show that he had no intention of being targeted as such.
“Wow,” Luke said. “Coming on kind of heavy, aren’t you Darius?”
Darius stopped and looked his brother straight in the eye. “No more than I should. This is no joke, Luke. I know you can handle it, I know you’re not a kid anymore. But we can’t laugh and joke our way through this.”
Luke returned his brother’s stare and understood how earnest he was. “Okay, Darius. I get it.”
“So back to my question. If I’m stopped by the authorities, I’ve got my papers, my uniform, and I’m heading back to the front. What’s your story?”
“I’m signing up for the army?”
“It works, but if you say it to the wrong person, you might end up in the army.”
“That seems inevitable.”
“True, but I’d rather make them come for you next year, when they’re supposed to. If we’re lucky, the war’ll be over by then.”
“I’d fight,” Luke protested.
“I know,” Darius retorted, just as sharply. “Quit changing the subject.”
“All right, all right.” Luke thought a moment. “The Old Road runs to Anson’s Furnace, right?”
“Yes, and then on into Westphalia.”
“So I’m heading to Anson’s Furnace to stay with some distant relatives and to look for work. You’re going along to make sure I get there in one piece, then you’ll rejoin your unit. That would explain why you left a week or two before you had to. I doubt they’d think you were so anxious to get back to the fighting.”
“Not bad,” Darius said as he thought it over. “Actually, it’s quite good.”
Although they moved at a good pace, it took longer than Darius expected to reach the Old Road. When it finally appeared, the sun had already reached its zenith for the day. When the brothers spotted the road, they both halted, eying it warily, as if it were suspected of occasionally swallowing travelers up whole.
“Is it true what you said,” Luke asked, “about bandits prowling the road?”
“Yeah,” Darius replied. “But a lot wouldn’t bother with such as us. We clearly don’t have much, and I’m armed. Most will look for easier marks, but the worse things get, the more desperate people become.”
“I know things have been tough, but we’ve made do. Is it really that bad?”
“For some. We’ve been lucky around Old Bern. Things have been a lot worse elsewhere, famine and plague, and then wherever the war goes…the armies don’t leave much behind when they move on, just decimated landscapes littered with dead and wounded.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Luke said with a sigh. “Well, I guess if we’re going to get where we’re going, we need to keep moving.”
Darius knew it was time, but still he hesitated. He wasn’t reconsidering his recent choices, but until now, traveling in back country, he felt relatively sheltered and safe, and had he wanted to lose the book and return home, it felt like a feasible option. Stepping onto the road was stepping into the open, literally and figuratively, and he sensed there was no turning back once he had done so.
“Darius?”
“I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile and sparing a glance at Luke. “Let’s go.”
The Old Road wasn’t the longest or, despite its name, the oldest road in Corterra, but in happier times it was the most traveled. The war had slowed trade within Longvale, and stopped it completely with the kingdoms of Westphalia and Dalusia. The road was still in good repair, the wild growth that lined several long stretches not having encroached upon it, held at bay mainly by the wagons that hauled supplies to the front. As such, travelers on horseback, or those on foot such as Darius and Luke, could cover far more ground on the road than they could in the more sheltered areas that framed it.
They passed two more days under the summer sun and two more nights under the shelter of trees a few hundred yards from the road. The weather was warm but not bad for July, and the well-packed road kept their feet from kicking up the choking dust that could make the days seem much longer. They had only encountered a dozen or so fellow travelers, each keeping to the far side of the road, apparently as uneager for contact as Darius and Luke. It was on the third day that hoof beats were finally heard, closing on them from behind. Luke’s eyes grew wide and he frantically searched for a place to run and hide.
Darius laid a hand on his arm. “Relax. There’s nowhere to hide on this stretch of road, just open fields, and we have a reason to be here. If our story was true, we needn’t hide from the King’s Guard.”
“And if they’re thieves?” Luke asked, but in a calm tone.
“Then we can’t outrun them if they have horses, and we don’t have much to lose anyway.”
Darius wasn’t really sure which he preferred, robbers or the king’s men. He prodded Luke to keep moving along at the same measured pace, only occasional glances back giving away the fact that the approaching riders were of any concern to him. After a time, he told Luke, “They’re wearing Longvale colors. Soldiers or guards.”
As the horsemen neared, Darius and Luke stepped off the road and waited. There were four, all armed, dressed in the blue and yellow of the kingdom. As they neared the travelers the shield-shaped emblems on their right breasts, indicating they were of the King’s Guard, became apparent. They slowed to a trot and drew their weapons. Darius knew better than to do the same.
One of the riders moved forward. “Papers,” he commanded, holding out his hand toward Darius.
Darius pulled them from his pack and presented them.
The man took so long with them that Darius started to get nervous. He had a lean, hungry look, and whether he was just a poor reader, a slow thinker, or was looking for something to be out of place, Darius could not tell.
When he finished reading he did not hand the orders back, but instead looked at Luke. “How old are you, boy?”
“Seventeen, sir.”
Darius could see some of the threat go out of the man at the show of respect. He wanted to hug Luke for being bright enough to play to the man’s pride.
“Looking forward to joining up next year?”
“Well, sir, I’ll do my duty, just like my brother.”
The man eyed him for a second, then nodded. “I’m sure you will.” He handed the papers back to Darius and rode on, his men following.
Luke blew out a long breath as they drew off. “That was fun.”
“You did great,” Darius told him. “It’ll only get easier from now on,” he added, wishing saying it aloud could make it true.
At dusk the first small town they had encountered came into sight. Until now they had only seen residences well back from the road, and the occasiona
l inn or tavern. A serviceable side road connected to the main road and led to the heart of the little hamlet. At least forty buildings were clustered together, some homes but many places of business, and the candles that had been lit in many of the windows gave the place a welcoming aspect.
“Do we go in?” Luke asked.
“I think we should. Might even find a bit of food and a place to spend the night.”
“What are we looking for, a blacksmith, a locksmith, or a wizard?”
Darius looked gap-jawed at his brother.
“I’m not Dad,” Luke said, “no disrespect to him. But I doubt any normal skill will open that book.”
“I agree. The problem as I see it is how do we find a wizard?”
“I was hoping, older and wiser brother, that you had a plan for that.”
“Not a good one. There is a lot of illegal trade these days, people will sell what they can to survive, including information. I’m hoping in one of these little towns we can find someone to get us in touch with someone that might be able to help us.”
Luke tilted his head back and regarded the darkening sky. “Or we could try wishing on a star. That might work, too.”
“I told you it wasn’t a good plan,” Darius answered in an even tone. “Let me know when you’ve got a better idea.”
“Will do,” Luke said. “In the meantime, I hope your pack is full of money if you intend to buy information.”
“I have some, not much. But information can come cheap after a few pints of ale. Listening doesn’t cost anything.”
“Great. We’ll have the drunk guys pointing us to the wizard. That book’ll be opened before we hit the sack.”
“Not if we stand here yammering all night.” Darius turned off the Old Road and headed into the small town.
It was a place like many in Corterra, a village that grew out of the collective need of a group of local citizens to trade goods and services with each other and travelers on a busy road. A small sign indicated the name of the place was Toryn. An inn and two taverns served as the focal points of evening activities, and these were easily identifiable from the noise that emanated from each, raised voices and laughter and song. The shops had closed for the day, but most appeared to be in good repair, and the lanterns that lit the main street gave the town a warm, inviting glow. The only thing that seemed out of place was a building near one of the inns, or rather a former building. As the brothers approached they could see the place had burned down some time ago, and not only had it not been rebuilt, there apparently had been little effort made to clean the area up. The ruin was so out of character with the rest of the town that Darius and Luke studied it more than they might have otherwise, and even in the fading light Darius could make out what the place had been.
“A church,” he stated.
“Never saw one before,” Luke said. “Guess I still haven’t.”
“I’ve seen a few, though more often than not burned down, like this one. War does that.”
“This one wasn’t the war.”
Darius agreed. “Must’ve just been an accident.”
The inn near the former church was called the Roadside Rest, and they decided it was as promising as any other nightspot. They entered, the smell of alcohol and burning tobacco and, more promising, roasting meat, hitting them before they had crossed the threshold. The innkeeper, a heavyset man in his early fifties with a bushy mustache, smiled and asked if he could be of service.
“A bit of supper and two pints would do us well,” Darius said.
The man showed them to one of the few empty tables, a corner spot that gave them a good view of the room. The eyes that fell upon them as they were escorted to their seats held looks neither contemptuous nor questioning. Travelers were clearly common here.
The innkeeper was swift in his work, and set bread, cheese, a generous slice of beef and two ales before them. They ate slowly despite their hunger, enjoying the food, simple though it was, and settling in to listen and watch, looking for clues as to who might be approached for information.
Before they had finished eating a man came at them, his wobbly gait telling them all they needed to know about his current state. He smiled broadly and greeted them as if they were old friends, then plopped down in one of the empty chairs at their table, spilling some of his drink as he did so. He leaned in close, speaking in a conspiratorial tone. “You boys look like you’re looking for something. I can get it for you.”
Darius took a slow sip from his tankard. “What is it you think we’re looking for?”
The man let out a low laugh, then brushed a few strands of his stringy hair behind his ear. “Healthy boys like you, farmers no doubt, here in the city. Lot of pretty girls here.” He added a wink to this last statement.
Darius smiled. “Thanks anyway, friend, but I can get my own dates.”
“No doubt, no doubt,” the man said, emphasizing that he meant no insult. “But some girls are more…affectionate than others.”
Darius now leaned forward as well. “What I really need is to find someone with very special abilities. Someone that could help me out with a problem I need to solve.”
The man scrunched his face up in confusion. “What’s that? What kind of special abilities?”
“Rare ones, for sure. Mystical. Magical.”
The man laughed, loud and hard enough that several heads turned their way. When he calmed himself, he said, “Better be careful, asking around for things like that. Get you in a lot of trouble, it will.”
The innkeeper suddenly appeared at the man’s shoulder. “C’mon now, Luden, leave these young men be.”
“Aw,” Luden moaned. “Can’t a man try to make some honest coin?”
“He can,” the innkeeper confirmed. “Or he can behave like you. Off you go now!”
Luden gave a little salute and wandered off, throwing one last wink back at Luke, as if to say, “Come see me after you lose your uptight friend.”
“Sorry about that,” said the innkeeper. “He don’t mean no harm.”
“No trouble at all,” said Darius.
The innkeeper made as if to leave, hesitated, then sat down and leaned in close, just as Luden had done. “I certainly didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not on you anyway, but Luden was right about being careful with your…inquiry. Asking about certain things can be dangerous.”
“I’m not sure I—”
“Look, I don’t want to judge anyone, and religious folk for the most part are good citizens. But asking around about spiritual things these days isn’t a good idea.”
Darius paused, puzzled but trying not to show it. He made a connection and asked, “What happened to the church?”
“Nothing I’ll talk about, nor will anyone else here, if they know what’s good for ‘em. Now, you boys want a room, or will you be moving on?”
“Dinner will do, thanks,” said Darius. “I hope we didn’t cause you any trouble.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” said the innkeeper, although the way he looked around when he left the table left some doubt as to whether he believed himself.
A short time later they were outside again, and Darius suggested they depart. “Likely too late to strike up further conversations, and I’d rather save the coin we’d spend on a room for a less fair evening. Plus we’ve apparently hit a sore spot with the locals. I didn’t like some of the looks we got after we talked to Luden and the innkeeper.”
When they had reached the Old Road and started west again, Luke wondered aloud, “What if we have this problem elsewhere, people mistaking ‘mystical’ and ‘magical’ for ‘spiritual?’ ”
Darius shrugged. “I hope we don’t. Maybe I can find a better way to phrase it. But I’d prefer not to come right out and say ‘sorcerer’ or ‘wizard.’ ”
“And you can’t just describe the problem of opening a book with a strange lock. That’s the kind of question the King’s Guard will be on alert for if they’re hunting for the book.”
“You’re right. Gue
ss the lock’s not the only puzzle we have to figure out.”
*
Over the next four days they stopped in three other towns, none of which had a burned church or local citizens who were put off by their odd inquiries, but none of which brought them any closer to the answer they sought. As Darius was brooding on their lack of success, his gaze eventually fell upon the ominous clouds darkening the horizon.
“Don’t like the look of those,” Luke said, eying the same thing.
“Well, our luck couldn’t hold out forever. Had to rain sooner or later. Let’s step along a bit quicker. If we can find shelter, we’ll take it.”
Gusts of cool wind met them before the clouds moved overhead, the smell of rain unmistakable on the air. The rain started slowly, a few big drops the precursor to the downpour. The sky had remained quiet, no thunder or lightning threatening them, and as they rounded a bend in the road Darius was ready to take shelter in the trees until the worst of the rain passed. It was Luke who first saw that luck was with them. He plucked on his brother’s sleeve and pointed ahead to a roadside tavern.
They broke into a run just as the rain started to pelt down, and despite their young, strong legs, the storm won out, soaking them before they reached the door. They entered hurriedly, slamming the door against the windswept drops that chased them inside, and shook themselves off as their eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the tavern.
A half-dozen patrons populated the place, each nursing a drink of some sort and each keeping to himself. The barkeep, a thin man with thick, bushy sideburns, barely glanced at the newcomers as they collected themselves and found a table. Reluctantly, it seemed, he deigned to walk over to them.
“What’ll ya have?”
“Just a couple of pints,” said Darius, the man’s attitude making him hesitant to order food.