Still angry, Pallas silently starred at the table..
“There is more,” Jon went on. His voice took on a more serious tone. “I think Eoin is in some bit of trouble.”
With that, Pallas looked up with a start.
“Me?” asked Elwin
"Aye," replied Jon. "The soldiers have been lookin' and askin' about a boy." Jon looked across the table at Elwin. "A boy who looks a lot like you. They say he be an enemy of High King Jerran." Jon spat on the floor as if King Jerran's name left a foul taste in his mouth. "None says ‘tis you they are lookin' for. But it is. Don't need a name to know ‘tis you they want."
“I appreciate the warning,” Elwin responded.
“Good thing you were in that muddy cloak,” noted Pallas, forgetting his anger.
“Yes,” Elwin agreed, remembering the patrol that had stopped him and Pallas, “But it is strange. That sergeant never asked us about this person. Though I can’t say why they would want me,” he added for Jon’s benefit. “They must have me confused with someone else. But all the same, I think I should stay clear of them.”
“Perhaps the sergeant was in a hurry to get out of the rain,” Pallas offered.
Elwin nodded. So far, he had been lucky, but he was far from safe. “Now what?”
"We can hide you," Jon cut in. "We been talkin', me and the boys, and we don't care what you did. If Count Murray and Pallas say you're okay, that's good enough for us. Besides, we figure if you did somethin' to make an enemy of King Jerran, then you are a friend, and a might tougher than you look." Jon grinned broadly. He was obviously not taken in by Elwin's story.
"We may not be cultured here, but we know you are no Riedhen. You don't look, talk or act like folks around here. First time I saw you, I knew you were hidin' from somethin'. Most everyone in the county knows, too. We can recognize our own pretty quickly. But we said nothin'. Most figure if Count Dovan is helpin' you, it must be for some good reason."
Elwin frowned. He thought he had played his part well. But if Jon could see through me, then the whole blasted place can! Shaking his head, Elwin realized that in past three years he had fooled no one. However, it was comforting to know that the whole town was keeping his secret. Reidh was indeed a very special place.
“Did I fool anyone?” asked Elwin hopefully.
"Sorry," Jon apologized as if somehow it was his fault. "If it helps, we don't know who you are or where you're from. We just know that you're not a Reidhen.
Pallas laughed. “And you thought I would blow your cover! You are some great actor!”
“That’s not funny,” retorted Elwin. “Nothing about this is funny.”
Uncharacteristically, Pallas suddenly became serious. "You can't go back to the Keep. They will be looking for you there. We have to find a place where you can hide, someplace where they won't think of looking."
“I agree,” said Elwin, “but where?”
“That’s what I was sayin’,” Jon cut in. “I have a place you can stay at.”
Elwin looked over at the big man. “It could be dangerous.”
“It already ‘tis. But I want to help.”
“Thank you, Jon. What do you have in mind?”
“I have a small workshop over on the north side of the bay. It’s nothin’ much, but it’s isolated, and you can hide there until we think of somethin’ better.”
“But how am I to get past the patrols?”
"By boat," Jon answered. "The docks aren't far. We should be able to reach them. Once out in the harbor, you'll be safe. In the rain and dark, I don't think anyone will spot us."
“I will not forget this,” said Elwin. “You are a good man, Jon.”
Jon shrugged off the compliment. “It’s what we folks do for one another, and you’re one of us now.” Jon slapped Elwin on the back, nearly knocking him out of his chair.
“I’ll head for the town garrison,” added Pallas. “That’s probably where Lord Rodan was headed. He can take a message to father. Father will know what to do. Then I will come back here, and Jon can take us both across the bay.”
Elwin thought about objecting to Pallas coming along but decided against it. He was scared and did not want to be alone. "Okay."
Pallas finished off his cider and rose out of his seat. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
Elwin watched his friend across the room. Pallas slipped back into his cloak. Smiling, he glanced back at Elwin. Pallas looked like a child excited about playing a game. Elwin prayed, hoping that Pallas would be careful.
Then Pallas turned and stepped through the door and disappeared back into the stormy night.
Standing on the stoop of the Inn, Pallas wrapped his cloak tightly around himself. The cold wind was still whistling through the streets, and it was starting to snow. Turning his head one way, then another, he cautiously scanned the deserted street. Satisfied that no one was watching, he stepped away from the Inn and hurried off to find Lord Rodan.
CHAPTER FOUR
Elwin leaned back into his chair. Relax, he told himself. Pallas will be back soon. He took a sip of his ale. From across the inn, Elwin watched the barkeep and barmaid. Despite there being very little for them to do, the man and woman stayed busy. They found tables to polish, floors to sweep, and dishes to wash, anything to keep their minds off the stormy night. Once in a while, someone would call for more ale, and they would race into action, competing to see who could get there first. At other times, the two would suddenly begin to argue. The arguments would erupt spontaneously, and for no apparent reason, the two would simply stop whatever they were doing and start bickering. It was as if they were responding to some unspoken cue.
It was while watching the barmaid and barkeep exchanging an array of colorful language that Elwin noticed a stranger.
Strange that I had not seen him earlier, Elwin mused. And I do not recognize him. I thought I knew everyone in town. The stranger sat alone in the far corner. Long shadows made it hard for Elwin to see his face. However, he could see that the man was dressed in a long brown robe that was gathered together at his waist by a thin darker brown rope.
Probably a Priest from the Temple abbey, Elwin told himself. That is why I do not recognize him. The priests and monks of the abbey rarely come to town. But do they wear brown?
"He's been watchin' you," Jon said, interrupting Elwin's train of thought.
"What was that?" Elwin had forgotten that Jon was still sitting next to him.
"The man you be lookin' at," replied Jon with a nod of his head. "He has been watchin' you."
Elwin stared suspiciously at the priest. "Who is he?"
"Don't know. But I can tell ya he ain't from Reidh. He came in just before the rains started. Since then he's just been sittin' there. He's not ordered a thin’.”
"Could he be from the Abbey? A priest maybe?"
"'Tis not likely. They wear gray, not brown. Besides, them monks don't drink and would never visit an inn."
Looking back at the stranger, Elwin flinched. The robed man was staring back at him. The stranger's intense scrutiny made Elwin nervous. The priest, if that's what he was, never moved or shifted. He just sat there studying Elwin from across the room.
The man had both an ancient and at the same time, an ageless look about him. Small bands of silvery gray ran through his otherwise long, dark hair. A well-groomed beard covered his chin which was also streaked in gray. He had a long face with leathery brown skin. But the most striking aspect of the priest were his eyes. From below a pair of bushy eyebrows were two deep set eyes. His gray eyes were cold and misty, like a stormy sea. Elwin shifted uncomfortably. He felt exposed under the scrutiny of those strange eyes.
Elwin looked away. "Could he be from Strigiol?"
A concerned look crossed Jon's face as he caught onto what Elwin was suggesting. "Has to be. How else could he have gotten to Reidh except on the Strigiol ship."
After some time, the priest closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair. When the priest did
not open his eyes again, Elwin decided the man must have fallen off to sleep. Elwin took a sip of his cider. I have an overly active imagination. There is no need to create problems where they don't exist.
Jon got up. "I need more ale," he announced. "If you need me, just give a holler."
Taking another sip of his drink, Elwin tried once more to relax. He sat back, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. He placed his mug to his mouth and took a long drink. Just then the priest suddenly opened his eyes and stood up. Nearly spitting out a mouthful of cider, Elwin sat up with a jolt. Waiting to catch Elwin alone, the gray-eyed man had only been pretending to be sleeping.
Advancing across the inn, the priest walked across the uneven wooden floor, his silvery gray hair glimmered brightly in the firelight. In his hand, he grasped a wooden staff that thumped against the floor as he walked. With a final thump, the tall man stopped before Elwin's table.
Elwin's first thought was to call out for Jon. Then he decided against it. Don't act like a scared child, he told himself. It is only an old priest. He has done nothing to offend or threaten you. What is wrong with you? And what can Jon do anyway? Pick the old man up and toss him out? Nice way to treat a priest that has done nothing more than walk across a room.
"Good evening, Prince Elwin," the priest said in a quiet voice so that only Elwin could hear. "May I sit?"
Elwin's mouth dropped open. The priest knew him! In the name of the three gods! He is from Strigiol. Now Elwin wanted to call out for Jon, but his voice was gone.
Not waiting to be invited, the priest settled down into the seat directly across from Elwin. His eyes sparkled as he leaned his staff against an empty chair. He gave Elwin a nod and a half smile. "It is not wise for you to be in such a public place."
Swallowing, Elwin responded, "I think you must have mistaken me for someone else." Even to himself, Elwin thought his voice sounded weak and unconvincing. "My name is Eoin, and I am a servant of Count Dovan Murray's household." He tried to smile. "And I am no prince."
"You are in grave danger." Ignoring Elwin as if his denial was too ridiculous even to consider, the priest went on. "I have been looking for you. And I have traveled a very long way, and it seems I have arrived just in time."
"Who are you?" asked Elwin. He was sure this man was no priest.
The stranger pulled a pipe from beneath his robe. "I am called many things, but I prefer Faynn. It is my given name." Staring over the flickering flame of the table's candle, the man watched for Elwin's reaction.
"Faynn Catach! The Wizard?!" exclaimed Elwin, sitting forward and nearly knocking over his drink.
Faynn nodded, "Yes, but I am a Druid not a wizard, and I would also advise you to keep your voice down. I am rarely a welcome visitor."
A shiver ran through Elwin. Despite the fact that he held the warm mug of cider between his hands, Elwin felt cold. He had heard of the Druid. Everyone in Kambrya had heard of Faynn Catach, but few had ever seen him. Elwin, like many others, thought Faynn Catach was just a story to scare children into behaving. Elwin swallowed. Faynn Catach; it was a name of mystery, of strange powers, and of fear.
With long narrow fingers, the Druid stuffed some tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. "The stories you have heard about me," Faynn went on, "are half-truths at best. Trust me, Elwin; I am your friend. May I call you Elwin? I have always had a dislike for titles. Anyway, you must believe me. You are in greater danger than you think. Evil is returning to the land. That evil is growing stronger and will soon be free. Already, its foul hand reaches out, spreading darkness over the land like a plague. And some things have already awakened; things that should never have left their dark hiding places; things of great evil, and they are looking for you." Putting his pipe in his mouth, Faynn reached towards the candle. Taking the candle, he held its flickering flame to the bowl of his pipe and inhaled deeply, pulling the flame down into the bowl. He repeated this several times until the tobacco glowed brightly. The burning tobacco gave off a strange, yet pleasant aroma. After lighting his pipe, Faynn continued. "However, it is not wise to talk of such things on a night like this. We can talk later. First, we must find a place where you will be safe."
"What do you want from me?" Elwin gave up trying to pretend he was Eoin. It seemed everyone could see through his disguise; Jon, the Druid, and the whole population of Reidh County knew he was not Eoin. The only one Elwin had fooled was himself.
"To help you," Faynn responded with a nod of his head.
Elwin peered at the Druid skeptically. "I think it is you that I need protection from, you and your Strigiol friends."
"Strigiol friends?" Faynn almost laughed. "If that were true, would I have told you my name?" He let out a puff of smoke. Before drifting upwards, the smoke seemed to dance around the Druid's head. "Would I have approached you here in a public place surrounded by your friends? If I am with the Strigiol army, why have I not gone for the soldiers? And why am I here talking to you?"
Why indeed? thought Elwin. You had to have arrived on the Strigiol ship. How else could you have gotten into the county? It has to be some trick. I have to be careful. If you really are the Druid, I am in great danger. I wish Pallas would hurry! Yet Faynn seemed harmless sitting there, smoking his pipe. He talked of dangers, but looked kind and gentle, like a grandfather.
"Why do you want to help me?" Elwin finally asked.
"There are some who wants to see you fail," Another puff of smoke danced around the
Druid's head before ascending towards the ceiling. "I do not wish that to happen." Elwin watched the rising smoke.
"Fail? Fail at what? And why should you care?" The Druid sighed, "There is much to talk about, but this is neither the time nor place.
You must go somewhere safe. Let me help you, Elwin. Before it's too late."
"How do I know you are not lying? You might take me to some dark alley and kill me.
Besides, I have already arranged something else. I do not need your help."
Faynn's smoky gray eyes turned hard. Elwin felt as if he could drown in those eyes. The Druid took his pipe from his mouth and set it aside. The grandfather image quickly vanished. Here was the Faynn Catach of the stories. Elwin shivered. "Hear me, young prince! The world lies in the balance. By staying here, it is you and not I that threatens. You think King Jerran is behind the wars? You are wrong! The King is but a tool of the Severed Head. Torcull, a false profit, rules over both the dark cult and the King. Torcull is an evil and ambitious man. He will stop at nothing to attain power. Only one thing stands in his way, you and that sword that hangs at your side." Elwin opened his mouth, but the Druid silenced him with a raised hand and a hard look. "Your sword is the key that can either stop Torcull or empower him. With the sword, Torcull would release a darkness so powerful that the world would be engulfed in a never-ending night. You cannot imagine the horrors that lie within that dark power. And only you can stop it, Elwin. Only you! You must keep the sword from him, you need to hide yourself, and the sword before the servants of darkness can find you. Torcull already knows you are here in Reidh. And Torcull has sent more than just soldiers. He has sent a Nightling. I have felt his presence. And trust me, my young prince, you do not want to meet a Nightling. Even now the Nightling is looking for you. He is out there," Faynn nodded towards the door, "searching the streets and every house. He is looking for you, and in time he will come to this Inn, and he will find you."
"A Nightling? I have never heard of a Nightling," Elwin said skeptically. Nevertheless, a shiver ran down his spine, and a cold dread made his throat feel dry. "What is it?"
"They are spawned out of darkness and are servants of the Dark One. In the days of old, before the Great Wars, they were called the Soulless Ones. The Soulless Ones were destroyed in the Great Wars, but the Nightlings lived on through their master. Now they have been reborn and set free once more. They come to prepare the way for their master. They have new names now. They call themselves Red Robes. They call themselves monks of the Sever
ed Head, but they are still Nightlings." Faynn looked at the door, then looked back at Elwin.
"There is no time to explain more. We must go!"
"No," said Elwin, shaking his head. I am not going to let him scare me. Nightlings? There is no such thing! "If you will now excuse me." Elwin stood up. "I need to see someone."
"Elwin!"
Ignoring Faynn, Elwin walked over to where Jon was standing next to the bar.
Faynn remained seated for a moment, then he came to his feet. He gave Elwin a long hard look. Then the Druid turned and left the inn.
Once the Druid had gone, Elwin and Jon returned to the table. "What did he want?" asked Jon. "I was watching' you, but he did not seem dangerous."
Elwin shrugged his shoulders. "I am not sure what he wants. But I do not trust him. He was trying to scare me with some stories of the Severed Head. I think I had better get out of here. Maybe I can take a room upstairs until Pallas returns."
"Good idea."
"When Pallas gets back, come up and..."
Elwin stopped short. The doors of the inn burst open. With drawn swords, several Strigiol soldiers rushed in. A sergeant stepped forward. Elwin recognized the hard-faced sergeant that had stopped him and Pallas earlier that evening. The soldiers quickly spread out, covering all the exits.
The barmaid and barkeep stopped arguing and turned deathly pale.
"No one move!" ordered the scared faced sergeant. No one did. No one breathed.
"I knew it," muttered Elwin. "The Druid is with Strigiol. He went for help, and now I am trapped." I am a fool. I should have seen this coming! Careful not to be seen, he unsnapped his sword hilt. Elwin knew he could not win. There were too many soldiers, and he was too poor of a swordsman. However, Elwin was not going to simply surrender. He quickly decided his best chance would be to make a break for the door. If Elwin were lucky and caught them off guard, maybe he'd make it, and Jon and some of the others might help him escape. It is now or never, he told himself.
Earth Magic: A Kingdoms of Kambrya novel (The High King of Kambrya Book 1) Page 5
