Raoul jumped forward in his seat. “Whoa there, brother. Enough with the heroic talk. There is nothing that we can do about events that have already occurred here and you know it. We can't go rushing off without looking at the bigger picture. We are not insignificant, especially with the experiences we have had and the knowledge we have gained. But I think that going after something as widespread as this is getting extremely sidetracked.”
Belyn glared at his long-time friend, on the verge of yet another rowdy argument, but ever the mediator, Keldron decided this was the best point to step in. “What are you getting at, Raoul? What exactly is your point?”
Raoul stood up, facing his nine companions, and for once his face was not full of his trademark zeal for the joys of the Old Law, which was what they were all expecting. “Remember what happened in the chamber of Ilia, back there in the forest. The old man charged us to search for the Tome of Law, as our answers would lie therein.”
“That's not what he said,” Belyn snapped, in a grumpy mood now that he had had the impetus taken away from him.
“It is close enough,” Raoul continued without missing a beat. “The point is that while we are out here, saving the world from all of its ailments, we are devoting less and less time to that.”
“Do you find these events to be insignificant?” questioned Handel in a cold, low voice. He had been impressed by Raoul's knowledge and utter dedication to the tenets of the Old Law time and time again on their journey, but even he had a frosty edge as he spoke.
“Absolutely not,” Raoul replied with a hint of self-mockery. “I would hardly have done what I did out there had this all been a walk in the woods for me, Handel Broadbough. I just think that these events are part of a greater whole than we are looking at by coming to one instance of this…” He looked to grope for a word, shaking his head as he searched for the right one. “This evil,” he said after a brief pause. He implored each one of them. “Feel the emotion around you. This is not something that we can prevent by means of an action that ten people are capable of. If what we heard is true, then ten tens of our number would be insignificant. We just have to look at this another way.”
“The temple,” Belyn prompted through tight lips.
“The temple,” Raoul replied, a serious mien to his face. “I know what you would say Belyn, and you may well be right. But I believe that we are looking at this the wrong way. You may say that it is my zealous heart, and the Gods know even I can see when I am being a bit overdriven when it comes to the Old Law, but I think, no I know that we will find more than just the shell of a building that needs a good clean to make people come back to it. We need to find answers that we are capable of using to our advantage, otherwise we will just be swept to the side when whatever evil this is that is massing for a strike comes to the fore.”
“What about the other Merdonese, Raoul?” asked Keldron of his friend. “They are still out there, and from what we have heard they could well be driven like a herd by these instances of evil towards some point with who knows what waiting for them at the end of it.”
Raoul glanced at Handel, who spoke now. “My brethren are stout and adaptable, seeker of the answers. They will not be overcome so easily, and always remember there are other fractions of the tribe beyond the mountains. If we can find enough of them, mayhap we can mount some sort of resistance against this evil from right under their noses.”
“If anybody can do something to ward off this potential catastrophe, it is the Merdonese.” Raoul said on the end of Handel's comments. ”But how will you contact them?”
Handel shrugged, as if it were of no matter to him. “We have methods, and there are signs that can be read to tell us their whereabouts. There are many tribesmen nearby. They feel the trees as they felt a connection with the great forest. You could say that we are drawn to them, that we know where to look. There will be enough of us to start something. I swear my soul to the green cave of the forest, we will save lives.”
“One thing vexes me about this,” Belyn said. “We are all followers of the Old Law, more or less. How do you propose to go about this if fighting is the only resort?”
Handel narrowed his stare at the large man. “We will win.”
At the sight of Belyn's raised eyebrows, Raoul stepped in. “There is nothing in the Old Law that says one cannot fight, just that the cause should be true. We are not talking about an aggressive strike against innocent people my friend. We are talking about saving a way of life should it come to that. Why should any one of us be the person who stands aside while entire villages are butchered?”
Belyn relented. “You are right of course, Raoul. I could never beat you in discussions of the Old Law, and for that I am glad.” Belyn stood and addressed everybody, his bulk making his forthright stance imposing. “My friends. As my brother has quoted the Law, so let it be done. I for one say that we should attempt both quests discussed here today. This evil aura shows that we need to do something about this situation. If the tribe is willing, go against these mercenaries using the way of stealth that is your legacy to the world, but stay safe, that we may meet again.” As Belyn said this, he looked across the table at Yerdu as if it was going to be the last time he ever laid his eyes upon her. Nobody else was in his sights. Keldron pretended not to notice, but Joleen was gazing at him in exactly the same way, and that was something he could not ignore. “We will continue our long journey towards Caighgard under the advice of my brother Raoul, and should we find nothing to aid you, we will make use of the information and somehow get it to you.” Finally Belyn tore his gaze away from Yerdu, and looked at the other tribesmen. “Is there anything we can do to help you now?”
Handel, Aynel and Arden spoke almost in unison as they said, “Please, let us out of this village now, we cannot stand it for much longer.” Despite his reticence, Seren's eyes betrayed the fact that he was obviously in agreement with his fellows.
Belyn smiled, full of compassion for the tribesmen. “Thy will be done. May the leaf shelter you and the trunk protect.”
“May the trunk protect.” They intoned in solemn departure, and the four tribesmen hurried out into the yard. The horses had not been unsaddled due to the hasty nature that they had entered the miller's grounds, and the tribesmen were gone in moments. Belyn, Raoul, Malcolm and Yerdu went out to see the tribesmen ride through the village and out back to the East, leaving Keldron and Joleen alone together in the parlour. Keldron looked at the person that had become without a shadow of a doubt the focus of his existence. She totally captivated him. Her wealth of luxurious blonde hair and the curve of her neck. Her bright eyes and radiant glow of vitality. It was almost too much for him. He had regretted this moment as soon as Raoul had started talking about their options.
“Do you need much from me before you go?” he asked, unsure of what she would say. Joleen just looked back at him, shaking her head slightly. At length she spoke. “Maybe once I would have left with them, but things within me have altered.” Joleen looked down at her hands and snorted a small laugh. “You know, I should be out there, riding for my life and my sanity, as far away from this village as I can possibly get. But I am not. That is enough to know that things have changed.” Joleen then looked up at him with that gaze that was so penetrating, he felt as if he had nowhere in the world that he could run that she would not find him. “I will run nowhere, and hide under no stone that you are not under, Keldron.” He looked at her, uncomprehending, still thinking that she was going to leave. “You stupid fool, I love you. I would not be parted from you by tide nor storm, by root nor branch. My life is with you Keldron, now and for ever.”
Keldron could not believe what he was hearing. A lopsided grin came over his face, as if he had just discovered some secret that would forever be his. Joleen stood, and with her very presence lighting up the room, leaned towards him and kissed him lingeringly. Keldron returned the kiss, and before they knew it, they were holding each other in utter contentment, enjoying the peace.
“Ahem, when you two are quite finished…” came the jolly voice of Belyn. “We have some things to discuss.”
As the rest returned from the yard Keldron leaned towards his friend. “She loves me.” He said with a small smile, never taking his eyes off of Joleen, who sat demurely at the table, looking down at her hands, the hands that had touched him so softly.
“And I assume you love her.” Belyn replied, with mirth in his voice.
“Why, yes. I suppose I do,” Keldron replied lightly, as if this had suddenly come to him in a moment of pure revelation.”
Belyn clapped his friend on the back. “Good. It's about bloody time you came to that conclusion. Now you can stop mooncalfing around and find some proper answers to your self-imposed riddles.” He turned to address everybody else in the room. “This is it then. We move out of this forsaken place, and hopefully never set our eyes on its like again. But steel yourselves, my friends, for I am sure that this is not over. We have some hard decisions to make, and the least of those is whether or not we forage for supplies in this village. Anybody have any thoughts?”
Raoul spoke up. “Let us look around this miller's house for anything that we might use. He was immersed in the Old Law to say the least, and I am sure that were he here, he would not begrudge us some aid. As for the rest of the village, I am not going near any building that has had somebody murdered in it, not for anything.” He sat there in silence, daring them all to defy him with his arms folded across his chest.
“That may be a prudent choice, considering all that has happened in this dreadful place so far.” Malcolm agreed, looking at Raoul as if to reassure the thin man. “I for one would like to respect the dead and leave them in peace, if that is at all possible. But let us not disturb their slumber any more than we must.” This brought a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the group, and without another word, they got up to explore the house and yard. The search yielded a few things of use for them, but they were loath to probe too deeply, for to do so would come dangerously close to breaking the tenets that prohibited stealing. The guilt that they suffered was bad enough, and made many hard choices for them. In the end, they only had enough items to cover the table around which they had been sitting. A few clothes, and a few bags of well-preserved staples were all they were willing to take.
Belyn looked over the table, taking note. “Not bad.” This received a huff of disagreement from Raoul, despite his feelings about the idea of taking from another person's possessions. Belyn smiled broadly, and reached inside his pocket. His face dimmed for a moment as he concentrated, and the other wizards could feel the subtle touch of Belyn's concentration as he focussed. Then it was gone, and Belyn stood there eating an apple. “Remember, my brother.” He said around a mouthful of apple, “We do not really need all that much.” He then tossed more apples to the others.
Raoul's deft catch betrayed his quick reflexes. “As I have said before, brother mine, that is all well and good as long as your luck does not run out. There are people back in Eskenberg who I am sure were far from happy to see us leave. It is only a matter of time until safe houses such as yours are discovered.”
To this, Belyn smiled smugly. “They will never find it Raoul. It is hidden within the depths of the labyrinth at the centre of Eskenberg.”
Raoul looked impressed. “How in the name of all that is good and right did you find anybody who knows their way into the middle of that place?” At looks from those who knew nothing of Eskenberg, Raoul explained about the labyrinthine district that filled the centre of their former home city. “The centre of Eskenberg had grown from the very beginnings of the city, houses and corridors merging on many levels into what could only be described as a several story cube where the majority of the poor lived. It opened out onto the harbour of Lake Eskebeth, and there the fishers and tanners did their work, but nobody of sound mind dared enter the place. The culture within was a completely different way of life to that outside, in the rest of the city. Gangs ruled under the stern discipline of one man, known as the Illeist, who ruled with an iron fist. No authority even contemplated an assault on the labyrinth, for they knew not where to start looking. The mare fact that Belyn had gotten somebody inside, and had even managed to keep them alive is what astounds me. Well?” He pressed.
“One day, you might know the answer, my friend.” Belyn replied evasively. “But today is not that day. All you need to know is that as long as you have got a good hold on your focus stone, you will not go hungry.” To prevent further questioning, Belyn changed the subject. “If this is all we are taking, then I feel that we should make a move.”
Malcolm looked out of the parlour window. “It is going to grow dark soon. It is not my place to suggest this, especially considering what has happened here today, and also considering the feeling we all still feel about this village…” Malcolm looked down as he faltered.
“What is it, Malcolm?” Asked Keldron, concern etched on his face. “You think we should make use of this house for the night, don't you?” Malcolm nodded without passing comment. “You know what that means? It means we have a whole night of this ill-feeling, this evil.” Again Malcolm nodded, obviously content to remain silent.
“It makes sense,” Raoul said quietly. “This is probably the only decent shelter for leagues around, and we have the only building that is not filled with the taste of foul murder.” Raoul looked at Malcolm. “It makes sense,” he repeated.
“You may be right,” Belyn conceded, “but I think Keldron should decide our fate this night. He after all has been the one most affected by today's events.” They looked at Keldron, and he looked back at each one of them.
“We will stay.”
Chapter Three
Relief emanated from around the table. It was clear that nobody wished to spend yet another night wrapped in blankets under the questionable shelter of a set of bushes. “The horses seem to be content with a nosebag of feed and a good rubdown, but their human counterparts are a lot less hardy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Malcolm replied.
“Yes, I know. You are the sole exception. For a man that used to the woods and wilderness you seem to be comfortable in any other place.” Many the time had been when they stopped for the evening under the frigid sky to find him with a twine-bent stick wrapped around another as he whirled it in apparent magic, resulting in smoke and eventually flame.
“Well with you around, one could grow lazy. I refuse to let you wizards use your magic to do anything that I can do with my hands and the natural materials around me.”
“In a way, Malcolm typifies the type of person that had belonged to this village. They were all devotees of the Old Law, living with the land in its natural element where they could use it without harming it, and benefit from what it had to offer them. In the miller's case it had been grain for his flour, and in turn for the bread that fed so many. In Malcolm's case, it is the deadwood that feeds the campfires he seemingly makes out of nothing, and the small game that he traps to feed us every night.”
“It makes sense,” Belyn agreed, “but tonight, after witnessing the horror that we have, and despite the fact that we are still under the shadow of the aura of evil that permeates the very ground like a frost, I bet even Malcolm is glad of the four walls around him and the roof over his head.”
Twilight beckoned from the East, creeping out from the mountains and on to the plains of northern Ardicum. Keldron left Joleen and walked out into the late afternoon, feeling the need for fresh air. He strolled around the yard, listening intently for any sounds of approaching horsemen, be they tribesmen or others. Not a sound approached his ears though, not until he walked near the stable. The quiet nickering of the horses greeted him as he stuck his head around the stable door. The horses for their part were indifferent to the ill feeling that was so thick in the air that Keldron felt he could almost reach out and grab it. They were content in their stalls, either asleep with one leg half-cocked, or just content to munch on hay. It
had obviously been a good year for the village, until the fatal event had happened. The hayloft was full, and this had the added benefit of shielding the horses from the persistent breeze that had been dogging them for months. It was a wise choice. From what Keldron knew about this side of the continent, the breeze struck down from a point between two of the glaciers that pushed out like icy monoliths from the North. It did this as autumn arrived; in fact it was responsible for the harvest season. Otherwise they would have at least a couple more moons of good weather to enjoy. The stable was much warmer than the yard, and Keldron tarried, trying to forget the horrendous experience from earlier that day. He felt secure here, in fact he had not felt as secure in a place since the last time he had looked out at the sunshine over Lake Eskebeth, shortly before Raoul had taken him to the council that had altered his life. The light gradually dimmed as the afternoon became evening, and Keldron remained with the horses, brushing them down in meaningless work that was designed to take his mind off of the day's events. The moment left him sour, and he rose to leave. As he reached to open the door, it was unlatched from the other side. As the door swung silently towards him, he decided to hide behind it out of a sense of pure impishness. The door opened wider, admitting the bulky form of Malcolm. The innkeeper closed the door quietly behind him as he looked into the cosy gloom that filled the stalls. The horses, docile and warm, nickered a greeting to him, but none betrayed the fact that Keldron was standing quietly behind him. Malcolm peered into the darkness of the hayloft. “Keldron?” He spoke quietly, but loud enough for anybody within the stable to hear him. Silence answered the former innkeeper.
Keldron, still possessed by this impish state of mind, whispered under his breath. “Boo.” The effect was instantaneous. In one motion, Malcolm turned mid-air and managed to land with his sword drawn and pointing at Keldron. That such a large man was so incredibly agile took some comprehending, but he had seen it all before, and relied on it in many cases. Malcolm took one look, and then let his guard down with a sigh of relief. He did not like fighting. The line between self-defence as defined by the Old Law, and outright aggression was very slim, and Malcolm was obviously afraid of breaching the miniscule gap that turned defence into offence. Sheathing his sword, he nodded with a rueful grin. “You made me jump.” This simple statement diffused the atmosphere, and soon both men were laughing out loud, something that Keldron had been sorely missing. They sat down on two bales of hay across from the horses, and wiped their eyes clear of tears.
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 7
