Steel And Flame (Book 1) Read online

  Her death came as a surprise to no one. Unable to force her illness into submission via any of the herbman’s merchandise, Lilly’s descent had been steady, if slow. In the end her coughing fits expelled blood mixed with the other fluids that had become constant. They knew it would not be much longer.

  He had spent all his time with her, knowing he could do nothing and yet constantly imagining a scene where the herbman would burst though the door with a new medicine he’d acquired. Marik knew it would not be, yet still he dreamed. His powerlessness made him cry at times when he was alone.

  A local priest from Lilly’s faith laid her to rest in a brief, solemn ceremony. Macie attended, as well as many of the women his mother had worked with, including Minta. They offered their condolences. Their words echoed hollowly.

  The townspeople sympathized with Marik in the following eightday before their previous opinions resurfaced, exacerbated by his avoidance of Master Pate. Jobs he had been able to garner to earn coin for a sick mother mysteriously dried up. Nobody ever had extra work for the lazy son of a hire-sword. Odd that he should be called such, considering the efforts he made to find any work at all to do.

  Pate and Allen clearly enjoyed his downfall. Several times Marik had passed the taverns his former master frequented, hearing his bellowing and guffawing through a mouthful of half-chewed food. He would hear his own name drift through the common room’s noise in Pate’s rumbling voice. On a slower night he could distinguish their words.

  “What’d I tell you? Amounted to nothing in the end. Just a leech on the town. Now that his mum’s gone he’s showing his true colors. Never comes in anymore, and after all the effort I put into teaching him the best practices in the business!”

  “Yer right there! Spends the day wandering around the town, beggin’ from people, I hear.”

  “Don’t none of you men throw him so much as a crust, you hear me? Not a crust! We don’t need to be encouraging his kind here. This is a decent town, by the gods!”

  Decent, my ass! As if you taught me anything except how to sweep out your garbage!

  The throbbing in his hands made him aware how painfully tight his fists were clenched. If Pate had appeared before him then, he might have attacked! That would give the town something to talk about, wouldn’t it?

  He avoided Pate’s places of patronage from then on, though he still ran across Allen and his friends despite his care.

  “Hey, dropout! What’s the matter with my da’s shop? Honest sweat too good for your Highness?”

  “Go on! If ya stay ‘round here, I might forget myself and clean my shoes with ya!”

  “A beggar boy! You want my left over bread here?”

  One would usually throw a heavy object near at hand. The next time it happened, Marik felt certain someone would end up hurt.

  Tattersfield had become a prison. A hellish purgatory existing for the sole purpose of tormenting him. Rail must return soon! Marik needed to leave, yet feared departing on his own. He had no clear idea what there might be for him beyond Tattersfield, or how to go about surviving until he found it.

  All he knew was that he wanted badly to see his father again. Except Galemar was enormous. How would he ever find Rail out there by himself? Best to stay where he knew his father would turn up eventually, his logic insisted.

  But every day he felt the chains wrapping tighter than the day before. If he did not decide what to do soon, this town might break him forever.

  * * * * *

  Although everyone else showed him a cold shoulder, Puarri still held kindness in his heart for a friend’s son. Marik sat at a corner table, eating a bowl of stew, when a set of familiar faces walked through the door. At first he struggled to place them before the memories returned. He watched the one with a scar on his neck and hair dangling over his eyes throw an arm around the sullen man’s shoulders, rhapsodizing over the decor in an exuberant manner. The sullen one seemed irritated by his friend’s antics, while the shorter one simply walked past them to claim a seat.

  It was the trio who had been in the tavern that night his mother fell ill. They must be. Back in the summer they had been traveling through the town. Right? Marik struggled to recall the memory as best he could. Puarri arrived to offer food and drink.

  The sullen one asked a question as the jester pulled a pouch from his belt. It sounded like he wanted news of the road ahead. Hadn’t they asked that before as well? Yes, Marik thought they had. They looked to be fighters traveling from place to place, but not in uniforms or with a commanding officer of any kind. So they could not be a lord’s retainers or with the king’s army. To Marik it added up to mercenaries, which might be useful, might it not? Ideas rushed into his mind. He felt a few links in the chains binding him slip.

  Marik glanced out the window. The light glowed dimly with dusk’s onset. Probably they would stay the night in town. That would be good.

  Thinking fast, Marik wolfed his remaining stew and bolted from Puarri’s.

  * * * * *

  Summer turns to autumn, and the colors change among the towering Euvea. Though the seasons never robbed the monolithic trees of their leaves, they reflected the deep molten shades of an autumn sunset.

  It was the rarest of times for Council Member Orlan. The council had finished its business of the moment in timely fashion. No new crisis had erupted since the last had been resolved. In fact, as a council member, no pressing duties overshadowed him at all. For the moment.

  The elder made his way down a stairway spiraling around a trunk to the pool covering the forest floor. He sat on a smaller Euvea root that arched out of the water, watching as a table-sized leaf floated down from the canopy far above. It settled on the placid surface. Light from the fading sun shone in shafts through the foliage onto the soft algae under the surface, transforming the waters into liquid shades of greenish gold.

  Orlan rested his feet in the water and waved to passing people on the walkways above. His mind was free to wander wherever it willed, and as it did it touched on numerous subjects. He thought about young Colbey and wondered if the trip outside the forest would do him good. He thought about the council and future tasks that would need attention. He thought about the Guardians and wondered how well they would handle the seasons ahead at their present strength level. He thought about the pool before him and the terrible secret it concealed within its depths. He thought about the various forest creatures he had not seen in several years since his council duties tied him to the village, and felt a twinge of sorrow.

  The tranquility seemed to be a thing eternal, existing forever among the forest giants. Orlan knew better, yet still wished it were so as he cherished the moments he so rarely enjoyed these days. That thought would replay relentlessly through his mind during the next several candlemarks after the peace was shattered by the unmistakable scream of a person dying a violent death, and an unholy, terrible chorus of roars which shook the giant leaves high in the majestic Euvea.

  * * * * *

  The daylight had faded to near darkness when Marik saw Puarri’s front door open for the quiet, barrel shaped man. Abruptly he realized he had no idea what he was doing. Well, too late now. Unsure what he would say, he stepped forward to intercept the men as they left the tavern.

  “Pardon me.”

  The man before him shifted his attention. “Yes? Is something amiss?”

  “No. I wanted to ask if you were heading east tomorrow.”

  “We are heading east this moment,” he replied, gesturing over his shoulder to where the other two were still talking with Puarri by the cloak pegs.

  “Oh. What I really wanted to know was if I may accompany you for a distance along the road. I need to go east, but I don’t want to travel alone.”

  “And why not, may I ask?”

  “There can be dangerous people on the road that I’d rather not meet alone.”

  “How do you know we are not of those dangerous people ourselves?”

  “You’re swords-for-hire, aren�
��t you?”

  “If you mean mercenaries, then yes, we are. Are you looking to hire us as guards?”

  “No, it’s as I said. I need to travel east.”

  “An’ what’s this, stoic Maddock? Have you found a new pet to care an’ feed for so as not to be forced to endure our lovely company?”

  Their words with Puarri finished, the two men had collected their belongings and joined their friend outside. The jester had spoken with an affected brogue while the sullen other stood on the barrel-man’s opposite side, studying Marik.

  “This young man would like to join our road eastward.”

  “Is that so now? Are we so captivating that we’re drawing the young an’ impressionable in our wake against their better judgments?”

  “I told him,” Marik addressed this strange man, “I need to travel east but would rather not go alone.”

  “Why?” This was from the quiet, gloomy one.

  “Because I need to travel somewhere.”

  “If you want us to take you, then tell us why we should.” He stared at Marik.

  It would be better to leave out Pate and Allen. It would only sound like sniveling. “My family here has passed on and all I have left is my father, a mercenary like you. He disappeared awhile back. All I know about where he might be is his last contract. He joined a mercenary band to the east. I want see if he’s still there or ask them questions if he isn’t.”

  The other man continued to study him as if he suspected deeper motives.

  “So it’s a babysitting job you’d have o’ us then, is it? My, my, but we do attract the glamorous contracts, don’t we? If this is the best you can manage, Maddock old sod, I just might have to find a more suitable talent for the job! Maybe that large stone over there, or possibly the tree stump…”

  “I can handle myself!”

  “Can you now, lad-o? Do you even possess anything I might hazard to describe as a weapon o’ any sort?”

  “I’ve got my father’s old sword. It’s serviceable.”

  “Indeed? That might be true, but can you actually use it? You look like a town boy to me, if I may dare to mention the fact.”

  “My father taught me, and I’ve kept in practice. But I want companions on the road to help in case of trouble.”

  The shorter man called Maddock spoke again. “Have you ever been on the road before?”

  Marik considered a bluff, but decided not to. If they accepted him, then his lack of experience in the world outside would probably be apparent to them soon enough. “No, I haven’t. That’s another reason I asked you.”

  “Also, have you considered the likely outcomes your search for answers will probably bring you to? If your father has not returned, either he chose not to do so or fell in the service of his contract, an end most mercenaries eventually come to. The answers you find might not be the answers you hope for.”

  “I know it. Maybe he doesn’t want to be found, at least not by me. I don’t know why that would be true, but I’ve considered it. Perhaps he is dead like everyone around here seems to think, except my father is not the sort to die quietly. If he had fallen, we would have heard about it.”

  “I have my doubts. Are you certain your eyes are fully open?”

  “If I wanted to believe the assumption he’s dead, why would I make the effort to go and look for him? This is the only chance that might let me find him.”

  The jester leapt back into the conversation. “You do know, lad-o, that old man winter is coming to call? In but the briefest number o’ eightdays, the roads hereabouts won’t be fit for the shaggiest beasts o’ burden, nor will the winds be thwarted by the thickest o’ coats!”

  “That’s why I have to hurry!”

  “Where are you going to?” asked the sullen man.

  “A town called Kingshome in eastern Galemar. It’s the home base for the Crimson Kings Mercenary Band. My father was contracted with them before he disappeared.”

  “Ha!” the jester suddenly exploded. After several roaring peels of laughter, he gasped, “Here I’ve been thinking Lady Fate was throwing delays across our meandering path, but maybe She’s really telling us to hurry up an’ get on with it!” He smiled broadly and studied Marik anew.

  “What?”

  Maddock spoke. “It happens we are making for the town of Kingshome ourselves. They traditionally accept new members into the band at the start of winter, to make up for any losses suffered during the summer’s fighting. We are hoping to sign on with them ourselves.”

  “So then you aren’t even going out of your way!”

  “I suppose I am not adverse to having you join us on our road. What say you, Chatham?”

  “It might be nice to have company other than you two silent statues to converse with.” He turned to Marik. “But, an’ I say this with the heaviest o’ hearts, I’ll only agree provided you truly know how to use that blade you say you’ve inherited.”

  “I said I’ve kept in practice,” Marik scowled.

  “Well an’ good then! I’ve never been a fool enough to turn aside as Lady Fate raps on my noggin an’ says, ‘I’ve a task for you, my boy!’ I look forward to our extended travels through this boring an’ humorless land! How about you, Harlan the Ever Cynical?”

  “At two votes to one, it wouldn’t matter what I said, so I’ll agree.”

  “Very well then,” Maddock said. “You are?”

  “Marik.”

  “Very well then, young Marik. We are going to camp about a mile outside the town, off the Southern Road. There is a small wooded area there separate from the larger forest across the road to the south.”

  “I know it. There’s a road marker right near it.”

  “Indeed. We’ve camped there before. Tomorrow morning, we will be leaving about a candlemark and a half after dawn. If you still wish to join us, meet us there.”

  “I will. I’ll be there!”

  “Then fare you well. Until tomorrow.”

  The trio left Marik standing by Puarri’s feeling elated. A perfect chance to discover his father’s fate, and he truly believed what he’d told Maddock. Rail Drakkson was not one to die quietly.

  He had only tonight to prepare. Marik broke into a run for his cottage, furiously planning everything he needed to do.

  * * * * *

  He pounded on the Tattersfield Town Council’s senior member’s door. The man had been ill-pleased last night when Marik came calling just as he climbed into bed, but upon hearing the news the sword-for-hire’s son would be leaving town, he became charitable.

  Downright cheerful in fact, the bastard!

  He had listened to Marik explain his departure to search for his missing father, and the need to sell the cottage he’d lived in for travel expenses. Marik would never be able to find a buyer on such short notice. The best alternative was to sell it to the council. Anyone new to the town looking for residence usually ended up inquiring from the council anyway, so they would not need to hold onto it long.

  The council member agreed the purchase would be no problem, though insinuated he might be hard-pressed to gather enough coin for the transaction’s full value. Marik had expected the council would be unwilling to pay the full price, so accepted being gouged. He told the council member he would be back next morning for the fifty silver coins shortly after sunrise. The man replied he would be glad to rise early and make the necessary arrangements.

  I bet! He probably can’t wait to see the back end of me!

  After counting the silvers, he said farewell to Tattersfield with little sentimentality.

  Marik trotted to make good speed on the kingdom’s primary southern road which bordered the town’s south edge and ran parallel to the Rovasii, though roughly a day north of the tree line. He followed the road eastward, just as he had pictured himself doing countless times before. The exhilaration was heady.

  From a nearby flowing creak, the sounds of men became audible when he reached the road marker. A wooden footbridge spanned the narrow waterway,
which headed north into the small woods. Marik followed the water and found the trio washing their eating utensils in the narrow flow.

  “Here’s the newest member o’ our stalwart company,” Chatham grumbled. “An’ early too! There’s nothing worse than that evil stripe o’ man who leaps out o’ his bedroll at the first ray o’ morning sunshine! I might regret taking you in after all.”

  “Don’t mind him,” quipped Harlan. “He’s always like this in the morning. For the rest of the day too, for that matter.”

  “Hey now, don’t you be throwing disparaging comments at me an’ tainting my stainless image in our new companion’s eyes! Why, I’ll have you know…”

  Chatham continued on nonstop. His chattering blended with the birdsong around them. Marik still felt too elated to care how strange this group of men might be. He had broken his chains to walk out on paths of his own choosing. It was going to be a great day!

  Chapter 03

  “What a great day!” Colbey’s pleasure at being within the Rovasii after an entire season of banishment welled to the point he actually said it aloud.

  In his eagerness he had decamped before sunrise. He was a day and a half from the village, but if he pushed hard with his trained endurance, he might make it shortly after nightfall. A long swim in the central pool’s cool, refreshing waters would do for a start. It might even make a beginning at washing the outlands’ dust from him. Colbey felt he carried half the countryside ground into his skin and clothing.

  He was duty-bound to report to the council upon his return, but to the hells with that! They could come looking for him if they so badly wanted the information he had gathered. None of it would be news to them anyway. First, he wanted to find Sylvia and Liam. The only ones who had commiserated with him over his temporary exile, they would welcome him back properly. After that, a raid on the storehouses for a return-to-home feast might be called for.