Earth Magic: A Kingdoms of Kambrya novel (The High King of Kambrya Book 1)

by Kenneth Price

  “Something is wrong,” whispered Pallas. His feelings becoming stronger with every passing moment.

  Elwin looked at his friend in mild surprise, “Wrong?”

  “I know it is a miserable night,” Pallas continued, “but cold or not, Port Murray should be celebrating. We are used to this type of weather. It would take more than a rainy night to keep people home.”

  “I think you are crazy! It is cold and wet. If we had any brains at all, we would be home sitting before a roaring fire.”

  "I guess," consented Pallas, but still, he could not shake his uneasiness. Maybe Elwin is right, thought Pallas, trying to convince himself. Perhaps it is just the weather, yet something told him it was not.

  The Dryrot Inn was near the harbor, so Elwin and Pallas had to cut through the center of town to reach the inn. At first, Elwin was convinced that Pallas was imagining things, but as time went on, he began to wonder as well. Each house they passed was dark and still. It was as if everyone was asleep. Wanting to be someplace warm and dry, Elwin could believe that the weather was keeping people home, but it was too early to be putting out the lights and going to bed. It was as if the whole town was frightened and hiding behind locked doors.

  The wind whistled down the deserted streets. Elwin started peering down every dark alley they passed. Elwin had the feeling that they were being watched as if eyes from every dark window and alley stared out at them. It was a silly notion, nothing more than an unfounded fear of the darkness. But still, Elwin shivered, and no longer from just the cold. Slowly, they were making their way along the streets when something just ahead of them moved. The strange night was making both boys a little edgy, so when they saw something among the shadows, they nearly jumped out of their skins. Something before them stepped out into the street. Elwin began to pray. Slowly, the form crept out of the shadows and into the light of a streetlamp. Only then did they see that it was only an old woman. Relieved and feeling a bit foolish, both Elwin and Pallas let out a long sigh. Elwin smiled at himself for letting the dark night get to him. He was no longer a child, he told himself. He should not jump at the sight of an old lady, or cringe from every dark shadow.

  The old woman, bent with age was carrying an armful of firewood; she slowly crossed the street.

  "Hello, there!" Pallas called out.

  The old woman looked up with a start. She had not seen them approaching. Her eyes opened wide. Elwin saw her haggard face in the dim light. She was terrified. Dropping her wood, she gathered up her skirt and ran. For an old woman, she ran much faster than Elwin would have thought possible.

  "Hey! Stop!" yelled Pallas. But the woman did not heed his call, and she vanished into the night.

  “Well,” said Pallas. “What do you make of that?”

  "I think you were right before," murmured Elwin. "Something is wrong. Let's get to the Dryrot. I want to get off these streets."

  Pallas and Elwin hurried on as they cautiously kept their voices low and tried to stay off the main streets.

  “The Inn is just ahead,” whispered Pallas.

  Turning a corner, Elwin gasped. He came to a sudden halt. Coming down the street was a squad of soldiers. A dozen armed men marched towards them in military formation. Over their chain mail, each man wore a long green tunic. Blazoned upon the tunics were the emblems of a boar. The boar was not the insignia of the Murray’s, nor any other noble family in Cluain. The boar was the device of the Stanford’s, a powerful family in Strigiol.

  Strigiol men in Reidh County could only mean one thing; Elwin had been discovered. Elwin felt a wave of panic. A shiver ran down his spine. His first thought was to run.

  “Stay calm,” murmured Pallas, as if he knew what Elwin was thinking. “They won’t recognize you.”

  Following Pallas’ lead, Elwin stepped off to the side of the street to let the soldiers pass.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No.” admitted Pallas.

  In all his life, Elwin had never found it so hard to stand still. All thoughts of the cold and rainy night were gone. Now he was filled with a different kind of chill,--fear.

  Lord Rodan had not recognized us, Elwin reminded himself, trying to stay calm. But he was on a horse and riding fast. Would these soldiers be fooled by muddy clothing? What if they ask me something? Elwin knew that his accent would give him away. He did not sound like a native of Reidh County, and he definitely did not sound like the common folk he was pretending to be. Fear again urged him to run, but now it was too late. The soldiers were upon them, and there was no place to go.

  With their backs against a wall, Elwin and Pallas sank into the shadows. From beneath their hoods, they gazed out at the soldiers. Pulling his cloak tighter about him, Elwin prayed that they would not stop, but of course, they did. At the head of the patrol was a heavily built sergeant. As if he could read Elwin's mind, the sergeant raised his hand. The gesture brought the patrol to a halt. Slowly, the sergeant turned his large head and looked at the two boys. He had the look of a seasoned veteran. His skin looked as tough as leather, and across the right cheek was a long ugly scar. Unsnapping his sword hilt, the sergeant approached. He seemed to be twice the size of Elwin and Pallas. His hard dark eyes glared down at them. Rain ran off his iron helmet and down his once broken nose to dance across his war hardened face. Somewhere above, a thunderbolt cracked and lightning flashed, turning night into day then back to night.

  “What are your names?” the sergeant demanded in a harsh gravelly voice, “and what is your business here?”

  Pallas looked up at the sergeant. “I am Gavin, and this is me brother Eoin. We have come from our Pa’s farm to celebrate the first ship of the year. Our farm is on the coast,”

  Pallas pointed to the south. “We saw the ship sail by earlier today.”

  Elwin was amazed at how quickly Pallas had come up with the lie. Also to his surprise, Pallas had suddenly acquired a thick country accent.

  The sergeant nodded his head as if he had heard the same story more than once this night. Pallas knew he would have. Once the countryside folks heard that a ship was in the harbor, they would be heading into town. In a few days’ time, the city would be busting at the seams.

  “You rural folk are easily entertained,” the sergeant growled.

  “Aye, me Lord,” smiled Pallas, “We indeed live simply here in Reidh. A ship to us is a mighty impressive thing.”

  “I am a sergeant, not a Lord!” snapped the man. Timidly, Pallas bowed his head. “I meant no offense.”

  “Soldiers do the work, while Lords stay dry. That is the way of this world, Boy.”

  “Aye,--sergeant.”

  The sergeant turned his eyes on Elwin. “And what’s your story, boy?”

  “Sorry?”

  The sergeant’s eyes took on a hard look as stared down at Elwin. “Is this brother of

  yours, Gavin, telling me the truth?”

  "Aye." Elwin, despite the cold night, felt himself beginning to sweat. Keeping his answers short, he hoped the sergeant could not tell that his and Pallas’ accents were different. The sergeant curled his thumbs around his sword belt. “You seem nervous, boy. Am I making you nervous?”

  “Aye,-- I mean no.”

  “He has always been that way,” Pallas added quickly. “He is a little slow, but a good worker all the same.”

  A scowl crossed the sergeant's face. "Well, you two had better get moving. Either find some rooms or head on back to that farm of yours. Port Murray is under a curfew. In two hours, no one will be allowed on the streets." With that, the sergeant spun on his heels. Apparently, he was in a hurry to have his patrol over with. He too wanted to find a warm place to dry out.

  Unaware that he had been holding his breath, Elwin let out a long sigh. Relieved, he watched the soldiers march on. Taking what seemed like a very long time, the soldiers finally turned down a side street and disappeared. With the sergeant and his men gone, Elwin leaned back against the wall. “That was close!”

  “Those
were Strigiol men, weren’t they?” asked Pallas. “They seem to think that this is their country.”

  Elwin nodded. "They belong to Lord Stanford of Risca. I recognize the coat-of-arms."

  “Are you thinking what I am?”

  “That they are here because of me? Yes, I am. I can think of no other reason for Strigiol to send men into Reidh.”

  “And what are they doing patrolling Port Murray like it’s theirs?” asked Pallas angrily.

  “I don’t know,” shrugged Elwin. “but I bet that’s why Lord Rodan was in such a hurry when he raced past us earlier on the road.”

  “Well, the ship is definitely out of the question,” added Pallas.

  Elwin had forgotten about the ship. It had to be from Strigiol, and the last thing he wanted was to stowaway on a Strigiol ship.

  “Father would know what to do’” added Pallas. “But I think it would be dangerous heading back home.”

  “I agree,” added Elwin. “But what should we do?”

  "We have to get you off the streets," continued Pallas. "So, I guess we should go ahead and visit the Dryrot Inn. It's right here, and if there is news to be had, it will be found there. After that, we better find a place to hide you." Elwin nodded.

  “Where did you learn to lie so fast?” added Elwin as they came up to the two large doors of the inn. “You were pretty quick back there. And what was that about me being slow?”

  Pallas laughed. He was almost enjoying this. “You are a Prince. Do I need to say more? All princes are slow. As for the lying, I think Aidan taught me that,--remember?”

  Elwin could not help but smile at the thought of their friend. Pallas was right, and this was the type of adventure that Aidan would have thought up. Elwin could remember the Elf talking them into all sorts of things, like sneaking into the temple of the Three Gods to steal some of Priest Quadroon's ceremonial wine. And when they were caught, which was all too often, it was always Pallas who came up with a reason for being where they were not supposed to be. Elwin wished Aidan was here and that this was all just one of his adventures. But he was not. Elwin's smile turned into a frown. As children, the exploits had always been fun. He feared that this real-life adventure was just beginning and it was certainly not fun.

  Grateful to have finally made it, Elwin and Pallas pushed through a pair of doors and into the Dryrot Inn. As they entered, they were greeted by a wave of warm air. The large room glowed brightly, and a blazing fire crackled in the hearth. Few people had ventured out this night, and only a handful of men occupied the warm room. Most of the tables stood empty with their chairs still sitting on top of them. The proprietor would make little profit this night. Those who had come out to the Dryrot huddled close to the blazing fire as if its warmth could ward off the dark and evil night that lay just beyond the doors. In soft, quiet voices, the few patrons of the inn talked among themselves.

  Elwin looked around the room. The patron's soft voices went suddenly quiet. Every face turned towards Elwin and Pallas. In the kitchen door stood a young barmaid, her wide eyes were glued to Elwin and Pallas, like a statue, she stood motionless. It was as if she had suddenly sprouted roots. Behind the long narrow bar, a slightly overweight barkeep slowly dried some mugs. Putting down his towel, the heavyset man wiped his hands on his dirty apron. Elwin's eyes drifted from face to face. Like the old woman the two had seen earlier, the faces of the inn's patrons were filled with fear. They looked at Elwin and Pallas as if they were witnessing some evil manifestation of the night,--an evil that had just walked into their hiding place.

  Closing the doors, Pallas shut out the night. With the sound of the storm removed, the room seemed to grow even quieter. Staring over their mugs, the men that were huddled by the fire watched and waited to see who these newcomers might be. The barmaid trembled slightly. She looked like she wanted to run, but her feet refused to move.

  "A warm welcome," Elwin whispered to Pallas. Taking off their wet cloaks, Elwin and Pallas shook off the rain and hung them up. Only then did the faces in the room transform into smiles. Everyone in Reidh recognized their young Lord and his companion whom they knew as Eoin. The barmaid stopped trembling, and the barkeep turned back to his dishes.

  Once more, the sound of the bar came back to life.

  “Oh-ho,” called one of the men by the fire. “It is Lord Pallas and his young friend Eoin.

  Did not recognize you dressed so—so un-noble like.”

  "It is a cold, wet night," Pallas offered as an explanation.

  Several voices added their agreement and called them over to join them. Elwin and Pallas crossed the room and took a table near the others, yet one far enough away where they could talk without being overheard. Elwin leaned back into his chair, letting the heat of the fire sink in. The night had left him shaken, but the fire and closeness of others gave him a sense of security. It was more than simply the weather or the Strigiol soldiers that bothered the prince. There was a presence about the night. It was the kind of night where one is constantly looking over one's shoulder, the type of night that unexplainably feels as if some dark presence hid in the shadows and down every dark alley. Elwin was not the only one disturbed by the strangeness of the night. The Dryrot was a gathering place for those who did not wish to be alone. It was a protective place, or at least it felt like it.

  Pallas ordered two mugs of the famed Reidh ale, but the barmaid smiled, saying she would be right back with two hot ciders.

  When she returned, Pallas complained, “We are old enough for ale.”

  The barmaid placed the mugs down before them and gave Pallas a wink, causing the young lord to blush. “Your father might think otherwise. And speaking of your father, does he know you are here?”

  Trying not to turn any redder, Pallas replied with a shrug, “Does it matter? Like I said, we are old enough to do as we wish.”

  Her smile broadened, “So, your father doesn’t mind you visiting taverns?”

  “Does yours?” Pallas returned. “You’re not that much older than me.”

  She laughed softly and kissed Pallas on the cheek. “I guess he does mind, at that. But he is hoping I’ll meet a nice young man, or maybe even a lord to marry.” Pallas turned even redder.

  Elwin smiled but said nothing. The waitress’ name was Lili, and she had been teasing Pallas for years, knowing the young lord had a crush on her.

  Closing his eyes, Elwin listened to the murmur of the voices around him. The hot mug between his cold hands and the warmth of the fire felt good. As his clothes started to dry, Elwin felt himself starting to relaxing. He reminded himself that he was not out of danger yet, and he needed to be making plans. However, his body was too tired and comfortable to listen. He felt as if he could fall asleep right there. Then something came between himself and the heat of the fire. Irritated at whatever was blocking the heat, he forced his eyes open.

  The cause of his irritation was a man of medium height, who had extremely wide shoulders.

  His firm, well-formed muscles rippled over his body. Elwin recognized him as a fisherman.

  Fishing was a hard, grueling profession and Reidh had many such men like this one. Looking weather-beaten and as hard as stone, the fisherman bent over Elwin's shoulder to look at Pallas.

  “Lord Pallas, can I have a word with’ ya?”

  In Reidh County, there was a casual relationship between the people and the nobility. In a community as small as Port Murray, there was no room for false pride. In Reidh, being a noble was just another job.

  “Sure, Jon,” Pallas replied with a friendly smile. “Have a seat. Maybe between the two of us, we can keep Eoin here awake.”

  Elwin shook his head. How could Pallas be so carefree? His father's land had just become occupied; he was being hunted, and yet Pallas could still smile and make a joke. It was almost disgusting, and it certainly was not fair. Even half-asleep, Elwin could not stop worrying.

  Through half-open eyes, Elwin watched Jon drop into an empty chair. Jon was built like a ro
ck and was just as heavy. Elwin waited for the chair to give way under the fisherman's weight, but it somehow held together. The man tipped back his head and poured a mug of ale down his throat. With the back of his hand, Jon wiped the foam from his mouth. "There is trouble in town," Jon announced as if it was something they did not already know.

  In Port Murray, everyone knew everyone else. Jon was a likable sort of guy, but he tended to drink too much and was not the most intelligent of men. But Jon's heart was as pure as gold. He was a lifelong bachelor, and owned his fishing boat. Most fishermen worked on boats that belonged to others. Only about one man in ten owned their own vessel, or in some rarer cases, two or more boats. Jon was one of those who had worked hard and had saved enough money to buy his own boat. He was a proud man, and prouder still of his boat.

  “So we have seen,” replied Pallas. “We ran into a patrol on the way here.”

  Jon glanced worriedly at Elwin. “And you had no problems?”

  “No,” answered Pallas. “Have you heard anything?”

  Jon shrugged, “We,” he indicated the other men in the room with a wave of his empty mug, “were kind of hopin’ you could tell us somethin’, you bein’ the count’s son and all.”

  “I guess we left before father knew anything,” Pallas answered. Then he asked, “Have you heard anything at all?”

  “Only rumors.”

  “And?…” Pallas asked, encouraging Jon to continue.

  “I spoke to Kaev,” explained Jon. “He’s a town guardsman. Kaev says they were told not to resist the Strigiol soldiers. King Lyon’s orders or somethin’ like that.”

  “That would make sense,” Pallas said. “Father would not stand aside unless ordered to do so.”

  Jon leaned over the table and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Some are sayin’ your father has sold out.”

  Pallas' lips thinned and his blue eyes narrowed. Silently, he looked down at the table. Being of fair complexion, Pallas turned red easily, and at the moment he looked like a ripe tomato ready to burst. Elwin could feel the tension. Jon too could feel Pallas' anger and held up his large callused hands. "Not me," he said quickly. "I know your father be a good man. ‘Tis only the talk of them knuckleheads down at the docks. We Reidhens know that Count Murray is a true friend. He's done much for us. No matter what, Reidh will stick by your father. And those who won't, will get their heads knocked together."