Nexus Moons: Book One of the Tales of Graal

by Ron Root

  “Of course, it’s gibberish to me anyway.”

  “I’ll return it in a few days.” He pushed the three books he’d brought toward Gresham. “You can start your studies with these. They are the first an acolyte learns from.”

  Rayna gave Gresham a quizzical look.

  “This one’s a runes primer,” Vardon said, tapping a book. “You’ll need to master them in order to read spells. This one,” he said, shifting his finger, “is written in Common. It’s been translated for use by beginners. The last one contains simple warring spells, the perfect starter book for your training.”

  Rayna’s eyes darted between Vardon and him, her expression a blend of confusion and dismay.

  Gresham flipped through a few pages of the Common book. “Truth be known, even this beginner’s book surpasses me.” He glanced Rayna’s way. “But since I won’t be remaining here as your student, it makes little difference.”

  “Nonsense! Why would you not stay?”

  “I’ve committed to Rayna to escort her on a family visit.”

  “A family visit! Apologies to you, Lady,” he barked, facing her, “This young man’s talent is far too rare to postpone for some ‘family visit.’”

  Seeing her shrink from Vardon’s scathing rant, Master Kagen came to her rescue. “Vardon, if you’d give me a moment alone with them, perhaps I can sway them.”

  Master Vardon’s gaze flitted between Master Kagen and Gresham. “See that you do,” he said, then stormed out of the room.

  “I’m sorry, Master Kagen,” Gresham said, “no matter how angry it makes Master Vardon, my mind is made up.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Are you aware of who my mother is?”

  He nodded. “A sorceress arrested by the Chevaliers. Something to do with a heresy charge.”

  “Yes. Marshal Booker fears if this Grand Inquisitor fellow learns I’m her son, my freedom could be in peril too. He advised me to leave forthwith.” He glanced at Rayna, who sat taking this all in. Would she think him an outlaw now? Or worse, a witch.

  “I understand your concern,” Master Kagen consoled. “But rest assured, Master Vardon won’t. He’s from Suzerain, bringing with him all the pride and arrogance that goes with his exalted station. He’ll insist that you remain under his tutelage—regardless of what you or the Chevaliers might think.”

  Gresham squirmed, feeling trapped “If that’s to be my fate, may I ask a favor?”

  “Which is?”

  “Lady Rayna is avoiding a powerful adversary of her own. One who would abscond with her against her will. Could someone somehow arrange a carriage for her to Portsmouth before he finds her? I have sufficient coin.” Since Rayna had yet to pay him, he wasn’t sure that was true.

  “How powerful is this adversary?” Kagen asked of Rayna

  “More so than you can imagine, Sir.”

  “If that’s true, he’ll likely hire mercenaries to track you down, and a carriage is the first place he’d look.” He turned to Gresham. “The same is true of Vardon.”

  He and Rayna looked at one another. “It’s not right to keep us against our will. Is there nothing we can do?”

  “I’m sure I’ll regret this later, but a chance to defy our haughty Suzerain friend is too good to resist.” He waved them closer, whispering.

  Gresham watched the tall, gaunt woman—Mistress Genevieve was her name, look Rayna over. “I see why Kagen sent you. Young lady, although I’m sure your attire is the latest fashion—it’s an open invitation to every highwayman between here and Portsmouth to rob you. Bear in mind you’ll be riding in an open wagon, not inside some guarded carriage.”

  Master Kagen had sent them to the Mistress. His plan was to have Hagley drive them to Portsmouth by wagon—with the lot of them posing as peasants.

  Hagley entered the room with Gresham’s knapsacks draped over his shoulders. Two servants followed behind him, bringing Rayna’s belongings. Huffing, he wiped his brow. “This is all of it, Mistress.”

  The Mistress glanced at the pile, then at Rayna. “You can’t possibly take all this with you. It would be a beacon for every highwayman out there.”

  “I…” Rayna stammered, leaving her retort unfinished. It took no more than a glance at the hawk-like Mistress to realize she wasn’t someone to trifle with. Gresham was wise enough to stay out of it, but could have kissed the woman for having said what she had.

  “Take only what fits in a single pack, the rest I’ll have returned to your academy.”

  Rayna looked so forlorn Gresham almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  “I’ll try.”

  “No, you’ll succeed. Come with me,” she said, leading them down a corridor, stopping next to two bundles of clothing. Placing her heel on one, she shoved it in Rayna’s direction. “Change into these.”

  Her face twisted in disgust. “Those are servant’s clothes.”

  Genevieve’s back stiffened, her arms crossing her bosom. “Which is precisely why you’re going to wear them, my dear.” She picked up the bundle and thrust it at Rayna, leaving her no choice but to catch it. “These will make you look too poor to rob—say nothing of too insignificant for anyone chasing you to take notice.” She opened a door behind her. “Now, since we have nothing left to discuss, you may change in here.”

  She handed the remaining bundle to Gresham. “This is your room,” she said, opening a second door. “Put these on; and for the gods’ sakes, hide that sword! Good luck on your journey,” she said, leaving.

  Gresham stripped to his linens and stuffed his clothing into his knapsack. After sorting through the clothes he’d been given, he donned his breeches, put on each of two long socks, and fastened them to his breeches. Picking up a faded brown tunic, he pulled it over his head and fastened the belt. Lastly, he placed the hat on his head and tied his knife and purse to his belt. He looked himself over. Although far short of fashionable, at least the clothes were comfortable. Grabbing his knapsack, he left the room.

  Hagley stood waiting for him, similarly attired. “I’m guessing we’re supposed to be ploughmen.”

  After a bit, Rayna appeared wearing a long brown dress, open at the neck and shoulders. She did, indeed, look like a serving wench. Accusing eyes bore through him, as if all this had somehow been his idea.

  Their stay at the university over, Hagley picked up Rayna’s knapsack and bade them to follow. Gresham easily managed the rest of their gear.

  He led them down a long corridor, then suddenly stopped for no apparent reason. After checking to make sure no-one was watching, he bent down and pushed a cinder block aside, exposing a concealed opening. “No one knows of this passage but me,” he said, slipping through it.

  After handing their bags to Hagley, they climbed through too—into darkness. What happened next had Gresham shaking his head in awe. After mumbling a few incomprehensible words, a glowing ball appeared above Hagley’s head. “There, now we can see.”

  “You’re a magus?” Gresham asked, astonished.

  Hagley laughed. “No. I tried to become one, but failed. I did learn enough to master a simple light spell however.”

  Rayna stared at Hagley, looking every bit as astounded as Gresham.

  “‘Ware your steps, milady,” Hagley cautioned as Gresham led Rayna down a series of steps. Hagley’s ball shed enough to see thirty or so paces in all directions. They now stood at the confluence of three separate tunnels.

  “This way,” Hagley said, heading down the center corridor. “It leads to a way to get out of the university unseen.”

  Sure enough, after walking a hundred or so paces, light could be seen filtering through one of the walls. There they found a small gate. Beside it, blanketed in cobwebs, were chain and pulley. Ancient looking, the gate was missing several of its iron bars.

  Hagley set down Rayna’s knapsack, brushed away some webs, and turned the crank. The gate rose, only to grind to a halt after lifting little more tha
n a couple of feet. Hagley set the crank in the locked position, then lay down and rolled underneath it. Once outside, he looked back at Rayna, “Your turn.”

  Rolling her eyes, she got down on hands and knees and rolled out through the dust. Gresham handed out their gear, and crawled out behind her. They were in what appeared to be a dried-up creek bed.

  “About a quarter league up this ravine you’ll find a trail. It leads to a turnout on Kinsman’s Highway. Wait for me there. I’ll get my wagon and join you there.” With that, he rolled back under the gate and cranked it closed, leaving the two of them standing there. Rayna gave Gresham a biting look. “I hope you follow directions better than you organize.”

  They headed up the ravine. Boulder-strewn, it had twenty-foot high banks on either side. Gresham helped Rayna climb over and around the seemingly endless stream of rocks. After a while the number of obstacles lessened, and the dusty terrain gave way to vegetation and far easier footing. Trees became more and more commonplace, and they soon found themselves in forest. More importantly, they stumbled upon Hagley’s trail. In no time they were standing in a wagon turnaround on Kinsman’s Highway. They found a place that allowed them to see the road, yet remain out of sight; dropped their packs; and sat down.

  Rayna crossed her arms, clearly upset. “Commoner! You told me you were a commoner and I believed you. You, the poor little orphan boy who carved me a rose. How quaint. The next thing I know some Magus is talking about you having some Gift that’s so special we have to run away to prevent him from keeping you against your will. Gresham Smithy, you’re the most frustrating man I know.” She uncrossed her arms, “Except perhaps for my father.”

  “I don’t blame you for being angry. I’ve made a mess of everything. Things just sort of got out of my control. Look, if you no longer want me as your guide, I understand.”

  “Gods!” she said, burying her face in her hands. After a moment, she looked up. “You’re right, I am angry. I’m angry at my father; I’m angry at Robard.” She tugged her clothing, “I’m angry that I have to wear this awful outfit. What I’m not, is angry at you.” She buried her face in her hands again, rocking back and forth. “I just want to find my mother and lead a life like everyone else’s, and the gods seem to be doing their all to prevent it.”

  He dared to feel hopeful. “Does that mean you’re considering keeping me as your guide?”

  She loosed a caustic laugh. “No, I plan to cart all this gear into the wilds by myself.” She looked at him. “Yes Gresham, I still want you as my guide.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Their exchange abruptly ended with the clip-clop of approaching horse hooves. They took cover and waited, relieved to see it was Hagley. They rushed out to greet him.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he said, pulling a bag out from under a large canvas laying behind the buckboard. He hoisted it. “Master Kagen suggested I stop at the kitchen and get us provisions. He lifted a second, smaller bag, and emptied its contents. Out tumbled four books, “Two for you; two for me,” he said, looking at Gresham. “Master Kagen said I should teach you to read runes from this,” he said hoisting one of the books. “That way you can learn from the spell book Master Vardon recommend while on your journey.”

  “Please return them. Tell him we’re already carrying too much and have no room for books.”

  After stuffing their baggage under the canvas, they were on their way. Kinsman Highway was crowded that day, with carts and wagons heading in both directions. Dread washed over him when they heard a group of riders approaching from behind. Did Quinn and his father already have the Chevaliers out searching? He looked. Although the riders weren’t wearing robes, they could still be mercenaries hired by Robard. Judging from Rayna’s anxious look, she feared as much too.

  The riders rode on by with nary a glance their way. Rayna sighed, and her features softened. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, marveling at how beautiful she was. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but he could swear she was sneaking peeks his way too, but every time he turned to see, she looked off in another direction.

  After saying nothing for some time, she finally spoke to him. “I need to apologize for the way I spoke to you back there; it was most unladylike.”

  “No apologies necessary. After the way I’ve botched things so far, I deserved it.”

  Rayna was about to respond when a noise from behind startled her. She looked. Something was moving under their canvas. “Gods!” she screeched, jumping away.

  Laughing, Hagley raised a hand. “Not to worry, Lady.” Shaking his head, he stopped the wagon, and stood, facing the back of the wagon. “All right Sully, I know you’re in there.”

  The canvas pushed aside and up popped a young boy. “How did you know?”

  He gave Rayna an apologetic look. “He does this sort of thing so often I’ve come to expect it.”

  Sully had a hand over his mouth, giggling. “I been in here since you took them bags to the Lady place.”

  “Mistress Genevieve had me return your bags to the Lady’s Academy,” Hagley explained.

  Sully climbed out from under the canvas. “Me and Hagley go adventuring lots.”

  Gresham’s brow furrowed. “Adventuring?”

  Hagley spread his hands. “Didn’t you know that monsters haunt the highway?”

  Sully’s head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, Hagley and me be destroying them all the time. I be almost nine, so I be old enough to be doing that stuff.” His gaze drifted to Rayna. “Are you a princess? You be pretty like one.”

  She gave him a warm smile. “Dressed like this? Hardly. No. But thank you for the compliment.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Rayna. And you are?”

  “Sully, ma’am. Hagley and me sometimes save princesses too.”

  She laughed. “I feel safer knowing you’re here.”

  Sully’s eyes sparkled as he fixated on Rayna. Gresham knew the feeling well.

  Hagley shook the reins, urging the horses forward. “No rescues today little man, I’m working.” He turned to Rayna. “Lady, would you mind if Sully drove some, he’s pretty good at it. That way I can tutor Gresham.”

  She glanced at the books, then at Gresham, and draped an arm around the boy. “Sure, Sully can be both my driver and my protector.”

  “All right, lucky person, get up here with your princess and make yourself useful.”

  The two men climbed in back. “Runes aren’t difficult, they just require a lot of memorization. By themselves they’re meaningless, but once you go through a couple spells, you’ll see how the two fit together.” Gresham eyed them. Learn runes and go through spells; my first magic lessons. Hagley picked up the spell book. “Hands and Arrows. Why these, I wonder?”

  Gresham took the book. “Master Vardon said I was attuned to the war arts. Can you teach me from it, or is what’s in the book not a specialty of yours?”

  “I don’t have a specialty. I was a student for two years, and in all that time no one could figure out what my facet was.”

  Hagley walked Gresham through the various runes, having him memorize their names and meanings. Only after he could recite them without error, did they switch to the spell book where Gresham struggled to grasp even the simplest of concepts. His hopes of becoming a magus faded.

  After a mid-day meal of bread and warm ale they were back at his studies. Gresham was finally starting to grasp some of what he was being taught.

  They hadn’t travelled much farther when Sully pointed. “There be a wagon, with lots of them new type of churchmen.”

  Gods. They were Chevaliers.

  Hagley raised a hand. “Everyone act normal. I’ll deal with them. I’ve encountered them before.” He handed Gresham his books. “Hide these. Old Kagen says the arts put them on edge.” Gresham stuffed them into a bag. “Good, now use the bag as a pillow. Pretend to nap and let me do the talking.”

  They gradually closed the gap on the slower-moving
party. As they drew closer Gresham could see the wagon carried barred cages with people inside them, likely heading for the ships’ dungeons. As Hagley passed them, Gresham recognized one of the prisoners—the woman wearing the moonstone at the marketplace. Gresham looked away, feeling ill.

  The lead horsemen blocked their passage. “Halt, we would talk with you.” The remaining troopers surrounded their wagon. “Who are you, and where are you going?”

  As promised, Hagley did the talking. While their leader quizzed him, the other soldiers scoured the wagon—and its passengers. Gresham stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact as Hagley deftly fielded their leader’s questions. The men ignored Gresham, their interest clearly on Rayna. One took off his hat, looking her over as one would a piece of merchandise. Gresham seethed, choking back a challenge. Grinning, the man tipped his head. “May His protection be with you.”

  Interrogation over, they returned to their prisoners.

  Gresham said nothing until Sully had their wagon well out of earshot. “How unnerving.”

  He scanned the road ahead, looking for more Chevaliers. Just because they’d made it through this encounter, didn’t mean that would always be the case. He wouldn’t feel free of their clutches until they were on their journey.

  Feeling forlorn, he decided to take a nap for real.

  Portsmouth

  A hard jounce woke him. Sitting, Gresham stretched and peered around. The woods and farmlands that had dotted the landscape earlier had given way to thatch-roofed peasant huts. Such signs of civilization, coupled with a distinctive smell of salt air; told him they’d reached Portsmouth.

  “Welcome back to the world of the living,” Hagley chided, guiding the wagon around yet another pothole. “We’re here. Where to now?”

  An excellent question. He’d been so eager to get underway, he’d yet to formulate any plan. “How about we find an ale house and discuss it.”

  The one they chose was your typical dockside inn. Dingy and dirty, Rayna’s grimace made it clear the place fell dramatically short of her standards, but dressed as shabbily as they were, going someplace nicer would only draw undo attention. Their plan was to not be noticed or remembered.