“…Kristoph?” she uttered breathlessly.
Rauph dared to raise his eyes once more and met Mora’s confused gaze.
“What are your wishes, Mother…” he replied.
The Labyris Knight
-: Part Two :-
Taurean Treachery and
Shifting Silver Sands
“They say that Family give you support,
care for you, nurture you,
rally around in times of trouble.
Yet in all my years as a healer,
I know that the worst physical,
mental, spiritual and financial harm
is done by Family too.”
Overheard conversation
Albanee Ministry of Healing.
Chapter Eleven
The journey from Wellruff to the town of Lichfield ended up being a miserable and damp affair. The heavens opened with a rain shower that found Kerian’s shoulders hunched and his collar turned up in a futile attempt to keep dry. Drops of water fell from the evergreen pines and deciduous trees bordering the trail with unerring accuracy, striking the shield on the warrior’s back with metallic notes. Either the rain ran down the outside of the mirrored surface to soak his breeches, or trickled between the shield and its owner, soaking the shirt on his back and making it stick to his skin.
Before long, his wet clothes started rubbing and chaffing his tanned skin as he struggled to find some comfort and respite from the movement of the hostile stallion beneath him. His legs felt stiff and his bottom felt like it had been bouncing on a marble plinth.
There were some benefits to the weather. For one thing, the travellers sharing the road were few, most people seeking shelter and an open fire rather than suffer the discomfort the two travellers endured. This helped them maintain a good pace and allowed the odd scrumping of fruit from overhanging farmer’s trees along the way.
The rain cleared just as they reached the top of a rise, the vantage point granting a view of Lichfield in all its glory as the sun came out to warm the earth. Kerian looked down upon the collection of inns and stores, munching a wrinkled apple as he took in the scene with a practiced military eye. The pleasant scent of petrichor improved his damp outlook, as he took in the rushing Mereya River, swollen from the recent rainfall. He noted the slight narrowing of the torrent where the ferryboat plied its monotonous trade and then groaned at the gathering of travellers waiting to cross. The river was running too fast for the ferry to operate. His heart sank. They could have a lengthy wait ahead of them.
“Ah, Lichfield.” Octavian voiced aloud, breaking into Kerian’s private contemplations. “In all my dreams I never thought I would be seeing you again so soon. You have not improved during my absence.”
“How long has it been since you last came here?” Kerian asked, determined to show interest to the man who had remained so morose throughout their journey and intrigued at the opportunity of gaining some insight into his companion.
“About three months.” The gypsy confessed. “I promised myself that the next time I passed through I would have made my fortune and have my own horse and servants.” Kerian laughed aloud, drawing a scowl and a hurt look in response.
“Seriously...?” He tried to smooth over the slight. “You really expected to find your fortune in Wellruff?”
“It started out promising.” Octavian shot back. “At least I was doing okay before I encountered the dreaded Kerian Denaris.” Kerian thought about responding with something regarding the foolishness of gambling or joking about the livestock at the market laying golden eggs, then thought the better of it. He may be with the gypsy for some time and did not want to risk alienating him further.
“Well at least the road supplied us some food.” He smiled, throwing his last apple across at his downcast guide who caught the fruit in mid-air.
“Oh yes…” Octavian replied polishing the apple on his tunic. “How could I forget your positive attitude and opinion that the road will supply everything we need. Well I don’t know about you but I would have preferred a stray deer or rabbit, or a chest of gold that had fallen off a wagon.”
“Well it’s still a possibility.” Kerian grinned. He shaded his eyes trying to make out the ascending trail on the far side of the river. “In fact, I think I can see a loaded wagon with a wonky axle dropping a chest just at the top of that rise.”
“We better head down and join the queue.” Octavian remarked. “The sooner we cross over the Mereya the better. When it gets hot down by the river, the mosquitos start to bite and Lichfield’s mosquitos are big!”
They dug their heels into their horses and Octavian cantered off down the trail, leaving a stationary Kerian behind, until Toledo looked up and realised it was time to go. Then with a sigh, the stallion clopped lazily down the road after the gypsy determined to take his own time, regardless what his impatient rider thought.
This was just Kerian’s luck, having to rely on a depressed guide and a stubborn bad-tempered mount. He tried to smile, tried to see the good side in all of this but as yet the sun had not broken through the clouds in his mind. He needed to handle Octavian carefully. The man seemed duty bound to honour his loss with the dice but something told Kerian he could only push him so far.
* * * * * *
The Mereya churned muddy and brown, turbid with the run-off from upstream. Vegetation and debris swept past at a pace, making any ferry crossing fraught with peril. A thick rope trailed across the river, disappearing into a small building on the far side, its flat roof adorned with a series of signalling flags. The lowing of oxen from the building echoed faintly across the river, answered by another team of the large lumbering beasts located on this side of the swollen ford. The animals were housed in a twin of the wooden building on the far bank, the other end of the sodden rope coiled around a large winch visible through a slotted window.
The oxen walked in large circles, harnessed to a rotating capstan powered by their forward motion. The beasts were encouraged by an overseer with a switch and a bundle of food that dangled enticingly before them. The food was lowered when the ferry was stationary and then raised to encourage the beasts to walk towards their meal when the ferry was in use. As the capstan turned, it engaged a series of cogs that slowly turned the winch, gathering in the thick rope and moving its length across the river.
The ferry remained docked at the near bank, the heavy rope securely fixed to a mast at the centre of the vessel. It was easy for Kerian to imagine the ferry pulled across the water by one team of oxen as they turned the elaborate pulley system, before the other team of oxen dragged it back the other way when the return journey was required.
Despite the groans from the crowd, no amount of cajoling was going to make the ferryman attempt a crossing for at least an hour with the river running so high. He relied on his boat for his livelihood and was not about to risk this on the behest of impatient traders. As the sun heated up the land, the mosquitos came out just like Octavian promised and the ire of the crowd rose with the crimson swellings that marked banquets just had by the flying pests.
With nothing to do with his time, Kerian decided to take the opportunity to survey the sights that Lichfield had to offer. Octavian was quite happy for his charge to give him some space and smiled at the freedom offered.
“Will you be alright if I wander around?” Kerian checked, passing the reins of his stallion.
“Of course.” The gypsy replied. “I need to get us some supplies for the rest of our journey.”
“How will you afford it?” Kerian enquired suspiciously. Octavian looked over at a group of bored merchants and their guards sitting around a fire pit, then held up his hand and flashed his dice.
“I have a feeling the road is going to provide.” He smiled slyly, before walking both his mount and Toledo over to the group and asking if he could join the travellers with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips.
Kerian shook his head and set off towards the
stalls set up along the main street, determined to banish the images of chaos that ran through his mind, each scenario ending with the two of them fleeing a troop of irate merchants and guards who pursued them with revenge gleaming in their eyes. He hoped Octavian knew what he was doing. They only had the two horses to their name and could not afford to lose them. They were also stuck on this side of the river. If they caused trouble, they could find themselves not getting passage on the ferry.
Before long, he found himself swept up in the sights and sounds. There were people here with skin so dark it was almost tinged blue. Turbans and robes dyed in bright oranges, reds, blues and greens adorned men and women talking in strange tongues. Tattoos appeared to signify tribal identification of people and races of all kinds. The same colours gathered with each other, clearly travellers from strange lands passing through to exotic destinations limited only by Kerian’s lack of imagination.
Stallholders appeared to be selling from transient spots. A spread blanket covered in little wooden carvings of animals with ivory horns, squat muscular forms, or creatures with long slender necks. Others sold small pots formed from bright coloured mosaic pieces or long pipes to smoke fragrant weed. A snake charmer weaved a golden snake backwards and forwards, catching Kerian’s attention and a shudder as he noted the golden winking scales and remembered the deadly dagger left behind in the temple at Stratholme.
Kerian paused near an open fire where a woman turned kebabs on skewers over the glowing coals, the meat dripping fat and sizzling as she waved a fan to make the coals glow brighter. Kerian found his mouth watering; he was famished having only eaten a couple of apples on the road. The trader looked up at him and smiled inviting him to buy.
He put his hand into his pocket and felt the cold edge of one small coin. Pulling the currency out he looked at the end of his finances and debated whether he should spend his final money on the food. The seller waved the fan again, blowing the tantalising aroma in his direction. The temptation was too much. He flipped the coin towards her and sealed the deal; the guilt and self-reproach could come later.
The meat was sticky and chewy, each mouthful hot and succulent. The sliced onion still held crunch and wedges of charred peppers squirted hot juices as his teeth devoured the snack. For the briefest of moments, all of Kerian’s worries fell away as he succumbed to the tastes in his mouth and sighed with delight.
Kerian flicked the wooden skewer towards a basket for waste and watched it bounce off the rim and fall to the floor. The young lady cooking the kebabs tried not to laugh as Kerian flushed with embarrassment, bent over to pick up the stick from the ground. As he moved to drop the stick into the basket a slender hand came from the other side and moved to drop her refuse into the basket causing Kerian’s skewer to fall to the floor once more.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” came the apologetic response.
“No, it’s fine.” Kerian replied lifting his head from the floor to come face to face with a pair of sapphire blue eyes that he instantly recognised.
“You!” stammered the maid from the Lusty Mermaid, her face going pale as she suddenly realised who the man was before her. “How did you find me so fast?”
“Give me back my money?” Kerian snarled, moving to come around the basket, even as the girl tried to dodge the opposite way. “I gave you a tip. I showed you kindness. Why did you take my property?” The look in the girl’s eyes as she glanced anxiously around confirmed Kerian’s assumption. She was guilty.
He lunged forward, hand outstretched to grab the girl’s clothes, aiming to snag her shoulder but instead, he found himself missing her and stumbling over the wastebasket as the maid twisted away, her years of avoiding lecherous wandering hands at the Lusty Mermaid serving her well.
Kerian cursed as he struggled to remain on his feet, his legs tangling with the basket and threatening to drop him on the floor. He glimpsed the girl running into the crowd, the pack on her back bobbing up and down as she ran. He took up the chase without hesitation and was after her in seconds. That was his money, his future, running down the street and he wanted it back.
People in the crowd stared hard at the sight of the young girl fleeing along the road with Kerian in pursuit and he was surprised to see the concern on their faces. He never considered how it would look to these bystanders, a young girl, clearly terrified, pushing and shoving through the crowd as she fled from an older man. Several travellers seemed to be considering whether to leap to her aid, then took one look at Kerian’s icy glare and opted to step out of his path just as quickly.
The maid took a running jump across a cloth on the ground covered in little nodding sculptures and polished stones but she landed badly, slipping over onto her back and crashing into some crates filled with chickens. The stallholders roared in outrage and started shouting and cursing at her, only to have Kerian charge over, kicking more of their produce aside as he closed on his quarry. He grabbed her roughly before she could regain her feet, holding her by the shoulder and shaking her violently.
“Hand over my money and I will let you go on your way.” He growled. She looked at his angry face, then past him at the crowd of disgruntled traders and travellers and opened her mouth to scream as loudly as she could.
Kerian placed his hand over her mouth, reacting on instinct and only making his situation more damning for the onlookers. The maid bit down on his finger, making Kerian snatch his hand away and it appear that he was about to strike her. Several sets of rough hands latched onto him and dragged him roughly away.
“What are you doing?” Kerian yelled. “Get your hands off me!” He found himself spun around to face a group of people who yelled and shouted at him in a language he did not understand, clearly upset how he was treating the girl. Kerian tried to pull away, tried to turn back around and grab the maid but every time he tried, they spun him back again and started yelling and jabbering at him.
Kerian put his hands up in a motion to stop the man that was yelling the loudest and then glanced over his shoulder to see that his thief was already on her feet and escaping. The screaming and shouting continued, despite Kerian not paying attention and physical shoves followed to emphasis the anger in the words. There was only one thing to do.
He turned and smiled sweetly, causing the trader to cease his yelling and nervously smile back, then Kerian hit him as hard as he could, delivering a vicious uppercut that crunched as it landed. Kerian set off after his quarry, a roar of indignation and fury coming from the people behind left him.
The young woman now had a good lead and continued to dodge around obstacles, nipping between rows of brightly dyed robes, slipping past street performers, pushing people out of the way who balanced large packages on their heads or shoulders. As she ran towards the distant ferry she screamed out a name Kerian could not recognise.
“Stop thief!” he shouted after her, determined that there would be no more misunderstandings. She ran past a large cage containing several parrots who took up Kerian’s call and mimicked ‘stop thief’ to anyone that cared to listen. People turned to watch and instead of leaping to assist, sent their hands searching for their own goods, patting pouches and pockets to ensure they had not been victims.
Their chase had now reached the rear of the queue waiting for the ferry. Kerian cursed as he tried to push through travellers who had waited so patiently and now saw his rushed passage as that of someone attempting to take the space they had spent most of the morning waiting for.
“Excuse me!” he shouted. “Coming through!”
“There’s a line here!” one traveller shouted in a dialect Kerian understood. “Get to the back and wait your turn.”
People were boarding the ferry at the far end, cattle, camels, horses, wagons and travellers with belongings perched upon their heads or backs. Kerian realised his target was aiming to get onto the ferry and put the river between them and he redoubled his efforts to close the distance. Twisting and turning, trying to slip through the crowd like liq
uid oil running down the keen edge of a sword, Kerian found that the irate people waiting in line and obstructing his passage turned his efforts into something more akin to lumpy porridge clinging to a wooden spoon!
He shoved one man aside, making the traveller drop the covered pot he held under his arm, allowing three red and black striped serpents to slither out and slither across the dry earth desperate for sanctuary from the screams of the crowd scampering desperately to get away from them. Kerian was oblivious to the fact, focusing intently on the young woman darting through the crowd ahead of him.
The pole marking access to the ferry suddenly lowered, indicating the vessel was full and setting off on the first crossing of the day. Kerian grinned, realising the young maid had left it too late and would now not make it, allowing him to slacken off his frantic pace.
He had her. There was no way she could escape.
Signal flags rose on the roof of the wheelhouse, answered by the observers on the far bank and the food was lifted from the oxen, making the beasts lumber forwards and start taking up the slack in the thick rope. Inch by inch the rope started to move around the wheel and the ferry eased from the shore.
The maid continued screaming for assistance and suddenly there was a young man with spiky black hair, a rash of acne and a tattoo on his neck standing at the rail, waving his arms about, gesturing for the young woman to jump from the ramp. He motioned with his broad arms that he would catch her. Kerian dug in his heels and pumped his arms furiously. This girl was not getting away. Not if he had his way! As she jumped, Kerian lunged for the pack on her shoulders, his fingers making purchase as she flung herself across the gap into her partner’s arms. Kerian’s teeth snapped together as he found himself pulled off the bank and into the muddy water. Vegetation slapped against his legs and water spray soaked him to the skin, the freezing temperature of the water sending needles of fire into his lower body as he held on resolutely to the prize in his grasp.
The Labyris Knight Page 21
