Without an idea of where to find the journal, she could wander for months looking for some clue to it’s whereabouts. No, best she return to the Dazhberg and report on the Krenon coup to the High Council. Perhaps they would also have some clue as to where to find the journal. Traveling parallel to the road would bring her there along the fastest route, so long as the Krenon did not move to cut her off. Once they realized she escaped the city, they would quickly discern her intended destination. Her one hope was that the chaos of the transition in the city and palace delayed their search. Slim chance that. Finding the Queen's daughter would be a high priority.
Late in the day she stumbled to a halt, taking shelter in the lee of a large boulder. Exhausted from a night and day without sleep, she knew she had to rest. Her makeshift shelter was far enough from the road to keep her safe from accidental discovery, but close enough to give her warning should a search party draw near.
Fishing out the small pouch Lorcán gave her before leaving his quarters from her cloak, she used her battered fingers to pull on the drawstring and poured the contents into her other hand. There was a surprising amount of gold in the small pile of coins he gifted her. It would be enough to barter for a horse and perhaps a few nights in an inn along the road. At last, a glimmer of hope! Taking care not to drop the coin, she dumped them back into the pouch and secured it closed.
As the sun crept lower on the horizon towards dusk, Krystelle's eyes grew heavy. She would travel no further this day. As she drifted off toward sleep, her thoughts were on her mother. Strained as their relationship was, she had never wanted to see her mother stripped of the crown. Would the Krenon try to put Tanjia on the throne? It was bittersweet for Krystelle that she had been right about the woman. Not that it did her any good now.
Her eyes popped open. The sun had disappeared beneath the distant tree-line and a quarter moon illuminated the countryside, the gray light giving the trees a haunted look. It had grown cold while she slept and Krystelle drew her cloak around her tightly. Why had she awoken?
Her senses on guard now, she reached out to feel the forest. A hush gripped the world in an iron fist. Only a soft breeze blowing in the treetops broke through. Sensing she was no longer alone in these woods, Krystelle slowed her breathing.
Pressure built as she sat, barely daring to move. If someone were out there she must not reveal her presence. There! Off to her left she heard the crackling of underbrush. Krystelle tensed her body, tightening her grip on the hilt of the sword. Even if they were not Krenon, someone sneaking through the forest would not be about honest business.
She caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye and turned her head enough to catch a glimpse. She gasped before she could stop herself. Not ten feet away stood a large wolf, regarding her with its yellow eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment and the wolf looked out toward the road. Taking one more look back at Krystelle, it loped away.
Krystelle's sigh of relief caught in her throat as a hooded figure emerged from the underbrush not fifty feet away. "Only a wolf!" called the man in a raspy voice.
Past the man, nearer to the road, a second hooded figure came into view. Two of them? How had she missed that? "I told you I sensed something, Brother."
They were Krenon! She braced herself, prepared to attack should they discover her hiding nearby. Much as she hated to leave any evidence of her presence, she could not afford to be captured.
"Indeed," said the first Krenon. "We should return to the others."
Others? They were not alone. Watching the two Krenon track back in the direction of the road, she waited until they were completely out of sight before edging out of her hiding place and slinking deeper into the forest.
Setting as fast a pace as she dared, she thanked the gods for tonight's moon. It gave her enough light to navigate and find her way through the trees. She would take the chance it would also expose her to the Krenon.
Krenon this far from the city, and in numbers, could only mean one thing. They had discovered her absence and were already searching for her. Casting a net around the roads and byways, they would try to box her into a corner and force a mistake. All direct routes back to the Dazhberg would be covered. At least, that was what she would do were she in their shoes. She had to change the game somehow, take a new direction and go to a place they would not expect.
There were dozens of villages and townships throughout the countryside. None, however, could provide the resources she would need if she was going to escape this trap. A strange woman dressed in man's clothes and a page-boy haircut would cause tongues to wag. No, she needed a city large enough that she could blend in and avoid notice.
Briefly she considered Cale Donnall. A port would be a great place to disappear, giving her the chance to book passage to Cale Uriasz. That could work, but would be another obvious choice for the Krenon. She needed something less obvious. Someplace she knew.
That's when it hit her. Aldmoor. She had not been back since her mission to recover the Sunstone, but knew the city well. She had traveled there often with her father, meeting with Quiren Adelwolf, the retired Sword-master General. What was the name of that inn? She could not remember.
"I've got a lot of walking before it matters," she said to herself. Surely she would remember it by the time she got there, she reasoned. Aldmoor was perfect. Large enough a strange woman with a sword would not be cause for excessive gossip, but with no obvious connection to Gabirel or Uriasz.
#
Aldmoor was designed with both defense and trade in mind. Laid out in concentric circles, it reminded Krystelle of the council table in the Aodhan Bret at the Dazhberg. An abandoned keep stood on a tall rise, towering over the city. The crumbling walls made Krystelle sad, reminding her of how far the kingdom had fallen from its peak.
A week after setting out from Naevean, Krystelle crested the last hill overlooking Aldmoor early in the day. Walking through that first night, she put distance between herself and the net of Krenon searching for her. Her diversion must have put them off the scent and she hoped they were going crazy searching for her on the road to the Dazhberg.
Urging her horse forward, she made her way down to the sleepy city guards manning the gate. Her luck had held on the journey and a day after fleeing the Krenon she had come across a small farmstead. Taking pity on the strange girl who showed up at their doorstep they had been happy to trade room and board for the night, along with an old nag named Marthal for a good amount of Krystelle's gold. She had paid more than the horse was worth, but she reasoned that it was still a better deal than walking the whole way.
Reaching the gate, she dismounted and walked up to the guards. Hairs raised on the back of her neck. Not from the guards. She resisted the urge to look up at the watch-tower over-hanging the gate. After so many days on the road, she looked nothing like a princess, and by appearance alone Gabirel's Sword could have been any one of a hundred similar blades. So long as she did not draw attention to herself she should have no problem.
"Name and business in Aldmoor?" yawned the first, scratching his rear. He was middle-aged and smelled of too much drink. Krystelle stifled the urge to dress the man down. These people were not used to military discipline and the King had disregarded them for many years. The second guard looked barely old enough to be off his mother’s apron strings. At least he had an excuse for his ill-fitting uniform.
Holding her tongue, she gave a name she had used from time to time across Cynneweald in years past, "Karla Menro, here to do business with a friend of my da." Strictly speaking what she said was true, except for the name.
The guard leered at her, looking over her boy's clothes. "'Ere now. What about that sword?"
She had the lie ready, "That's the business I mentioned."
He eyed her suspiciously, "Where'll you be staying?"
"The Golden Bee," she said, hoping the inn she remembered still existed. It was not the one she was here to find.
Pursing his lips, the guard wave
d her through the gates and turned back to his companion. Krystelle mounted Marthal and clucked her forward, relieved to be away from the stench of the guard. Riding into the city, she could hear raucous laughter coming from the guardhouse. She supposed she must be the target of their humor.
Making her way down the main road through town, she looked about for any familiar landmarks. It had been a long time since she visited Aldmoor and, although she remembered the name of the inn she was looking for three days out of Naevean, she did not want to stop for directions and lay another breadcrumb should the Krenon manage to track her. The false name at the gate and the misdirection regarding her lodging were all designed to slow down any pursuit.
Riding up one street and down the next, she fretted over the possibility of Krenon pursuit. If they managed to track her here, it would only be a matter of time before they found her. She needed to find the inn, and enlist the innkeeper’s help as quickly as possible and every moment she wandered about the city brought the Krenon one step closer.
Once a prosperous trade hub connecting the mountainous timber regions with the rest of Cynneweald, the city had fallen further and further into disrepair since the Dragon Wars. On every street Krystelle saw evidence of buildings abandoned and fallen into decay. The few people out on the streets slouched about their business clothed in dinghy gray that matched their demeanor. Aldmoor was dying.
She wanted to shake these people to wake them up from their stupor. There was a larger world out there with forces like the Krenon standing against them to take away what little freedom they had left. The kingdom faltered and no one seemed to care. And why should they? Had King Ercanbald lifted a finger to re-establish trade and security? Her mother must not have known the state of things or she surely would have acted. Krystelle swore to herself that things would change when her mother was back on the throne.
None of this got her any closer to finding the inn she wanted. Feeling desperate, she resisted asking one of the townsfolk for guidance. With the city less populated than she anticipated, any contact would stand out and provide fodder for the Krenon.
Turning another corner, she searched the buildings for any sign of a recognizable landmark. Nothing in Aldmoor was as she remembered it and the frustration welled up inside her. Dismounting, she decided to walk Marthal for a spell, hoping that the new vantage would give her perspective and insight.
She immediately regretted that decision. Her boot landed squarely in a squishy mush of human excrement and rotting food. Grabbing the reins, she continued down the street, dragging her foot to scrape some of the muck off.
It was nearly noon and people were coming out of the buildings in greater numbers, busy with their daily errands. She had covered almost half the town at that point and wondered if perhaps the inn she sought had closed in the intervening years. It was possible. There was evidence of several burnt out buildings throughout the town that might have been inns once upon a time.
A pack of youths came running down the street and she sidestepped to pull Marthal out of their way. A tall lad with long, stringy black hair jostled her as they passed and she kept a tight grip on the sword to prevent any mishaps. It was not until they passed out of sight that she realized her mistake. Feeling under her cloak for the small purse containing the rest of her coin, she sighed. It was gone. She looked back down the street for any sign of the pack, but knew that any attempt to give chase would be futile.
With another sigh for her own stupidity at letting the boy get so close, she turned back up the street. Her eye gaze lit upon the sign hanging outside a building across from where she stood. The Frisky Flask. She'd found it!
Tying the nag to a post outside the inn, she worried briefly about someone stealing her away. All the evidence suggested that law and order were breaking down in the city. Giving the horse a once-over she decided she need not worry. Anyone who needed a horse so badly that they needed to steal this one deserved her.
Pushing open the door to the inn, smells of roast and bread washed over her making her mouth water. She had been on meager rations during the journey, not wanting to slow down for hunting. Inside, the inn was much as she remembered it. Long tables with wood benches and ironwork candelabras lighting the room. Empty save for a pair of old prospectors sitting in a dark corner, it was remarkably clean. With any luck that meant Nehl Jowan still owned the place.
Moments later, the burly innkeeper swept through the kitchen doors, setting two fresh mugs of ale in front of the prospectors and turning to Krystelle. Looking her over once, his brow knotted. He scurried toward her with a scooting motion. "'Ere now. We don't want no beggars in here young mister. You jest turn yerself about and head right back out that door!"
Krystelle blinked in surprise. This was not the welcome she expected. She started, realizing how she must look after so many days on the road, with her hair still cut short. He must think she was one of the pack of youths that had waylaid her outside.
Grabbing her arm, he ushered her toward the door. Before he could throw her out she whispered urgently in his ear, "Master Jowan. I'm not who you think. May I speak with you privately for a moment?"
He stopped cold, glaring at her. His eyes widened in sudden recognition and after a moment he started moving again, dragging her toward the kitchen. "On second thought, maybe some honest work scrubbing pots will teach ye a thing or two," he said loudly enough for the two prospectors in the corner to hear.
Jowan pulled her through the kitchen and straight out a rear door into the inn's stable yard, leaving the cook to stare incredulously at the door as it slammed behind them.
"Krystelle Mora?" he hissed once he confirmed they were the only ones in the yard. "What in the name of all that is holy and right are you doing in Aldmoor?"
"I have come for your help. I must return to the Dazhberg as soon as possible, but I am being pursued."
"Yeh, I know all 'bout that. Krenon came to town two days ago saying all sorts of nonsense. Sounds like it must all be true."
They had beat her here. Her time was running out faster than she thought. "What are they saying."
"Never you mind that. The thing to know is they are searching the town door-to-door. They'll be to the Flask 'afore nightfall. We need to get you out of the city, and fast."
#
Krystelle found herself nestled in a secluded corner of the common room, a bowl heaped with potatoes, carrots, meat, and a red wine sauce that made her mouth water to smell it. She dimly recalled a tale of Master Jowan traveling cross Cynneweald to find a cook that lived up to his culinary expectations. Tearing a chunk of bread from the loaf beside the bowl, she dipped it into the stew while her stomach grumbled in anticipation.
She went through a full bowl, and most of a second, before leaning back from the table, her appetite satiated. Taking a long draught of ale, Krystelle considered her next steps. Her feeling of being watched at the gate made more sense now. Krenon agents stood vigil on the city walls. When pressed, Master Jowan explained that the Krenon assumed if she were coming to Aldmoor she must already be in the city. They paid little mind to those entering the gates. Leaving was a different matter.
After depositing her in the common room and giving instructions to the cook, the portly man had scurried out the door giving no indication how long it would be before he returned. She was well into her third mug of ale when the innkeeper returned.
He swept through the door, closing it roughly behind him and wiping the sweat running down his brow with a corner of his apron. He took a ragged gasp of air and rushed over to Krystelle. "They are coming!"
She froze, "Who is coming?"
He glanced at the door, "The Krenon. They were searching in another part of the city when something changed. They are heading our way...all of them. Tracking you I suspect. You must come with me now." He tugged on her arm and she allowed herself to be led back out through the kitchens to the stable-yard. Her nag, Marthal, stood with her head down in one of the stalls. Catching her looking, Jowan
tugged on her arm, "You won't need the horse. This way. Quickly." He pulled her into the dark recesses of the stable.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows. Catching sight of his stringy hair and youthful appearance, Krystelle gasped. "You!"
Jowan looked back and forth from Krystelle to the youth, confusion on his face. "You know Willem?"
"That's his name then? He and his little pack of thieves stole my purse in the street outside your inn."
Turning on Willem, the innkeeper scowled, "You know yer not supposed to be thievin' in this part of the town Willem. What'll he say when he finds out?"
The young man smirked, "He'll get over it." Krystelle revised her assessment of the boy's age downward. He was younger than he looked.
Jowan shook his head, "No time for that now, the Krenon will be to the Flask in minutes. Can you get her out of the city?"
The boy looked Krystelle up and down, "Can the girl move fast?" he said, his tone dripping with doubt.
Krystelle bristled, "Look boy, I'll have you know..."
"You must go!" Jowan interrupted.
Willem shrugged and grabbed Krystelle's arm. "This way then, and try to keep up." Pushing deliberately on the stable wall, he revealed a hidden door leading to the alley behind the inn. Following him into the alley, Krystelle pulled her arm from his grasp. Behind them, they could hear a commotion coming from inside the inn, the Krenon had arrived.
Waving her to follow, Willem trotted down the alleyway. Krystelle took one last look back at the Frisky Flask before pursuing the boy. She held no illusions as to what would happen to Master Jowan should the Krenon discover he had helped her. This was the second time the Krenon forced her to abandon someone to their interrogations. Their bill mounted and she resolved herself to settling that account.
Eligium- The Complete Series Page 46
