Defenders of the Sacred Land: Expanded and Re-Issued (The Sacred Land Legacy Book 1)

by Mark E. Tyson

  Dorenn stopped to talk to the cook “Elgar, have you seen my father?”

  “Not in a long while, Master Dorenn. I believe he has gone to Master Sanmir’s shop; he was muttering something about a nagging headache,” the cook said.

  “I’d wager that headache is named Dellah Adair,” Dorenn stated, elbowing the cook and smiling. The old cook just smiled back knowingly, trying not to look in Dellah’s general direction. Dorenn loved his mother very much, but her perfectionism was maddening at times. “All right then, Elgar, tell my father I have gone to find Rennon if he asks for my whereabouts.”

  “I will, Master Dorenn,” Elgar said, turning back to his cooking. He stirred his sauce once and then rapidly turned back to Dorenn. “Oh, and Master Dorenn, I almost forgot. Master Vesperin was here searching for you about an hour ago. I heard him tell your father that he would be at the temple should you return.”

  “Good, I will try him there. Thank you, Elgar.”

  “My pleasure, Master Dorenn,” the cook said, continuing to prepare his sauce.

  Dorenn left the kitchen by way of the common room, largely ignoring the patrons in favor of getting out of the inn without spending time speaking to any of them about Lady Shey’s arrival. Only one person tried to flag him down with her handkerchief, but he pretended not to hear or see her as he hurried out the front double doors. Once he was out of the inn and into the street, Dorenn made his way to the temple of Loracia, north of the village square. The temple was a large building with huge spiraling turrets and statues of Loracia lining the main entrance. It was the oldest structure in Brookhaven but was still as solid as the day it was erected. Loracia, the goddess of life, was the patron goddess to most of Symboria’s clerics, and Vesperin was definitely born to be a cleric. The priests of Loracia found him wondering through the temple gardens as a young boy of two or three. They tried to locate his parents for a full season before finally adopting him. The first season he was at the temple, he was known simply as Boy. Finally, Father Undain made him his apprentice and renamed him Vesperin after the elvish word meaning little miracle. The priests are still convinced that Loracia herself sent him to them.

  Dorenn pushed the two massive doors open and entered the main hall. Hundreds of candles burned on both sides of the altar, and along the two sections of pews lining either side of the temple. The vaulted ceiling extended high above, illuminated only by the round, stained glass window inset above the altar. He saw Vesperin sitting on a pew near the front of the hall. Dorenn sat on one of the back pews and waited for his friend to get free of his duties so he could tell him the events of the day.

  It was another half hour before Vesperin was free, but as soon as he could slip away from the temple, he and Dorenn rushed to the gardens before making their way back to the inn. Dorenn excitedly filled Vesperin in on Lady Shey’s arrival, embellishing a few facts for dramatic effect.

  “So she is a real noblewoman from the Vale of Morgoran?” Vesperin asked as they crossed through the garden.

  “As far as I can tell,” Dorenn replied. “Mother is preparing a special meal for her as we speak, so they will be in the private dining hall shortly. Oh, and I almost forgot, she is attended by an elf maiden!”

  Vesperin stopped cold. He absently smoothed down his plain brown cleric robe. “A Darovan elf?”

  Dorenn shook his head. “ She appeared Arillian to me.”

  Vesperin ran his hand through his long blond hair as if making himself more presentable. “I‘ve never seen one in Brookhaven before.”

  “Me neither, at least, I think she is Arillian. I can’t be sure. She looks different than Sanmir.” Dorenn smiled as Vesperin smoothed down his hair again. “Planning on courting her, are you?”

  Vesperin, with embarrassment, realized he was brushing back his hair and abruptly stopped. “No, but it never hurts to make a good first impression.”

  “You’re a priest, Ves.”

  “No, I’m a cleric. There is a difference, you know.” Vesperin took a deep breath. “An Arillian elf in Brookhaven!”

  “We can see them through the side door to the private hall. Mother will have Tatrice and Fettina serving them, so we can have Tat fill us in on what they’re talking about if we can’t hear them. later.”

  “Where is Rennon?” asked Vesperin. “He would most likely want to be around for this.”

  “I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Sanmir probably has him practicing potion mixing or whatnot in his shop. You know Rennon, when he works in the shop he is occupied for hours.”

  The two boys reached the inn and decided to enter through the kitchen. Dorenn searched for his father again but still did not see him. The two were about to enter the hallway to the private dining room when Lourn Adair burst out of the ale cellar carrying a barrel. He noticed Dorenn and smiled. Dorenn’s father had a rotund build, as did many innkeepers that could not keep their hands off the ale and fine cooking of their staff. He had steel blue eyes with an unnerving, penetrating gaze. His white apron was forever stained, and his trousers were loose and faded from use. His brown hair receded back to reveal a high forehead, which he could use to express anger with uncanny clarity.

  “Oh, there you are, Dorenn. I’ve been searching for you. Your mother wants you to go to the private dining hall and serve this ale. Lady Shey’s servant and guards do seem to enjoy their drink.” His expression abruptly changed. “Which reminds me, as I fetched this barrel I noticed that my stores were getting much lower than I expected. Did I see Fadral stumbling around here?” Lourn cut his eyes to the hallway as if expecting to see Fadral standing there. “Did you get the meat I sent you after?”

  “Aye, he was in the common room the last I saw him. He was trying to stir up a game of nine cards,” Dorenn answered. “He claims to have plenty of cured meat in stock.”

  Lourn chuckled. “Good, I wonder if he is also carrying Darovan ale this trip.”

  Dorenn glanced at the doorway to the common room as if Fadral would hear. “He doesn’t seem to be worried about selling stock, not like I would expect a peddler to be. I didn’t see any ale barrels tied to his wagon either.”

  Lourn sighed in dismay. “We may have to make a trip to Symbor ourselves then. The only problem is I can’t leave the inn just now with all of the extra business from the soldiers.” Lourn set down the barrel of ale. “But I could send you, Vesperin, and Rennon if you take Trendan along to keep you out of trouble.”

  Dorenn brightened. “I know Trendan would go, and Rennon would absolutely go if he can get away from Sanmir and his studies long enough.”

  “Well, I believe Trendan is in the common room now, why not go and ask him? If he agrees, you will leave in the morning. I will have Durn prepare the red wagon and the good team.”

  Dorenn hurried off then stopped and turned back to Lourn. “What about serving the ale?”

  “I’ll take care of that. Go and ask Trendan and then meet me at the tap and mallet.”

  “Aye, father,” Dorenn said excitedly, cocking his head for Vesperin to follow him.

  After the two were down the hall toward the common room, Vesperin spoke. “Why does your father always insist on Trendan coming along whenever he sends us out of Brookhaven?”

  “He thinks Trendan is responsible since he has been around so long. Ever since Trendan fought off bandits from one of his supply wagons last summer, he has had my father’s respect. He managed to get the supply wagon here without losing a single drop of ale or pinch of flour.” Dorenn grinned. “He would probably swallow that respect if he knew Trendan as well as I do.”

  “He is the best woodsman and tracker I have ever seen,” Vesperin said.

  “Well, he is half-elven.”

  “Aye.” Vesperin turned thoughtful. “I wish I could go to Foreshome someday. The Archers of Endil win the archery tournaments every season. I wish we could be there in person. News from the peddlers and secondhand retelling can’t possibly compare to actually being there in the Great Sythian forest an
d seeing the archers compete. And I wouldn’t mind seeing the Sylvan elf maidens either; I hear no man can resist them.”

  Dorenn was stunned. “Is that the sort of thing a priest should speak of?”

  “I already told you, I am a cleric, not a priest. And clerics of Loracia do marry by the way.”

  Dorenn entered the common room and immediately spotted Trendan talking to Lenae and Jerral, the common room attendants. Trendan always knew when he had a pair of eyes on him, and he glanced up from his conversation to see Dorenn and Vesperin. Dorenn motioned for him to join them by the doors. Trendan raised his head in acknowledgement of Dorenn’s request, excused himself from the two attendants, and made his way to the double doors where his two friends stood waiting. Trendan stood as tall as Dorenn and had a similar build, but his sandy blond hair and his emerald green eyes were a stark contrast to Dorenn’s brown hair and blue eyes. He had sharper features than Dorenn and a longer nose. His two slightly pointed ears identified him as half-elven.

  “There you two are,” Trendan said. “What news do you have of the coach I saw in the stable, and where is Fadral?”

  “I thought Fadral was staying here at the inn. You haven’t seen him?” Dorenn asked. “He was just in here not an hour ago.”

  “No, I haven’t seen him.”

  “Tatrice and I rode in with him on his wagon. We led Lady Shey here.”

  “Lady who?” Trendan asked.

  “Shey,” Dorenn repeated. “She is a noble woman from the Vale. Follow me and I will explain.” The three started down the hall, letting the double doors swing shut. “My father wanted me to ask you if you would guide us to Symbor to pick up a shipment of ale. He won’t let us go without you.”

  “Who will be going?” Trendan inquired.

  “Me, Vesperin, you, and maybe Rennon if he can get away from his duties with Sanmir.”

  Trendan scratched his chin. “Anyone else?”

  “No,” Dorenn replied. “Why?”

  “As long as your mother is not going you can count me in.”

  “I thought so,” Vesperin chimed in.

  “I thought you two got along better now.” Dorenn said.

  “We do, as long as we don’t have to travel together. You mother likes to pick on me.”

  “I’m sure that’s all in your head.” Dorenn said patting him on the back.

  Lourn had already installed the tap on the ale barrel when the three arrived, and he had begun pouring the ale into mugs and setting them on a silver tray. “Well, what do you say Trendan?” Lourn asked.

  “I have already agreed to go along, Master Lourn. When do we leave?”

  “You leave at first light. Why don’t you two take a summons to Rennon while Dorenn serves ale to our guests?” Lourn handed them a small parchment from under his vest. “Oh, and Trendan, my lad?”

  “Yes, Master Lourn?”

  “I will be counting on you to use that keen tracking skill of yours to avoid any potential bandits.”

  Trendan nodded, slapped Vesperin’s chest with the back of his hand, and the two were off to Sanmir’s apothecary shop. Lourn laughed as they hurried off.

  As Dorenn prepared to lift the silver tray, Lady Shey unexpectedly appeared behind him.

  Lourn almost tripped over her.

  “I am very sorry. I did not intend to startle you and please forgive my eavesdropping, but did I hear you say you were sending these boys to Symbor?”

  “Aye, my lady, you heard correctly,” Lourn stated.

  “I would very much like to accompany them if I may.”

  “You, my lady?” Lourn asked confused. “But you have a coach with guards; you can travel to Symbor anytime you wish.”

  “Aye, what you speak is true, but I have some delicate business that may require a little more discretion, and going to Symbor as a merchant would afford me that luxury. I would take along Rodraq and my elf maid as well. I will leave behind my coach for you to keep until I return.”

  “If you wish to go I can’t stop you, my lady, but there will be little room for you on the return trip. The boys are picking up a shipment of ale, and the largest wagon I have is barely adequate when loaded, much less so if there are passengers to cart about.”

  “Once we get to Symbor the return trip is of no consequence to me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I will have Rodraq procure a wagon of goods there for the return trip as a gesture of good faith. What goods are you in need of other than ale?”

  Lourn grinned, “Good faith, that sounds expensive. I can’t let you spend the coin.”

  “Nonsense, the cost will be to the crown. I am authorized for travel expenses.”

  “Well then, I shall make a list of dried goods I could use and will get it to you by the time you are to leave at first light.”

  “Very well, my good innkeeper, we will be at your stable just before first light. Now, if you will excuse me I must return to my dinner.” Lady Shey bowed. The two men bowed in return. Dorenn lifted the tray with the goblets of ale and followed Lady Shey into the private dining room. He thought he saw the elf maiden and Lady Shey exchange nods.

  As the night grew long and the patrons in the common room had either gone to bed or gone home, the rest of Lady Shey’s party finally decided to turn in for the night. Dorenn sat down in a chair near the main dining table to rest a moment and get off his feet. He was exhausted; the stores of ale had dwindled to just eight barrels, which would last the inn just about long enough for the trip to Symbor and back. He was so tired that he had almost forgotten that Tatrice had stopped him during the course of the evening and wanted to talk to him before he turned in. He was tired enough to avoid speaking to her altogether, but he reluctantly pulled himself up from the chair and made his way to where she was still working. As he neared the kitchen it dawned on him that she must have found out about the trip to Symbor and was probably worried about it. How did she find out? Dread suddenly welled up inside him as he pushed open the kitchen door. Tatrice was cleaning up alone.

  “Tatrice,” Dorenn began, “what did you want to talk to me about? I have to be up at first light.”

  “I know,” Tatrice replied in a stern voice as she slammed some pots and pans into the washbasin. “Were you planning on telling me about this Symbor trip, or were you just going to be gone when I woke?”

  “I would have told you before I left. I have just been so busy since Lady Shey arrived.”

  “Stop right there, Dorenn Adair. We had many opportunities to talk and you avoided me.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was busy.”

  “All right.”

  Dorenn put his hand on Tatrice’s shoulder. “Tat, I…”

  Tatrice pulled her shoulder away. “Go, Dorenn, I am too busy,” she said.

  Slowly Dorenn turned back to the kitchen door, unsure if Tatrice really wanted him to leave or if she was about to become angrier because he was leaving. Girls were so confusing, but he did not have the luxury of time to contemplate what she meant, so he decided to go to bed and talk to her in the morning.

  As Dorenn left the kitchen, he heard Lady Shey’s voice coming from the private dining hall over more loud pots and pans crashing. He peeked in to see who she was talking to and saw the town elder women seated around the table sipping tea. Lady Shey said something about Sanmir the Apothecary then abruptly stopped and stared directly at the door. Dorenn moved away, hoping she had not seen him. He decided he was not interested in what the women folk had to say; it probably had something to do with men. They were never satisfied with what the men folk were up to anyway. Dorenn yawned, stumbled tiredly to his bedchamber, and fell asleep on his bed without even getting into his nightclothes.

  Chapter 16: The Apothecary

  Dorenn was awakened by a tapping at his window. He opened his eyes and rose angrily, searching for the source of the irritation. Faint noises growing stronger, much like the sound of beating wings, startled him lucid. He jumped from his bed to peer out the window. Searching the darkness of the
street below, he thought he saw Fadral scurrying out from the shadow of the inn. He flipped the latch clasping the windows shut, swung them open, and leaned out to call to him. Cool mountain air rushed inside and made him shiver. The street below was barren, and Dorenn listened for the beating sound that woke him but heard nothing. He yawned sleepily and pulled the windows closed. He reached for the window clasp and began to latch it when he caught the sight of a dark figure swooping down from the roof of the inn, gliding silently to the street. The tall figure loomed hunched over and then it straightened. Its body was tall, too tall. It looked as if it wore a long cloak. Dorenn opened the windows again to get a better look. The cloaked figure stood silently, unmoving. Dorenn strained to call out, but his words froze in his throat. The hair on the back of his neck began to creep up and goose pimples covered his arms. Fear griped him as the figure’s cloak shimmered, moving outward and upward like two colossal bat wings. Instinctively, Dorenn took a knee to hide beneath the window and out of the creature’s line of sight.

  From his crouched position, Dorenn blinked and rubbed his eyes with his fists, but the apparition remained. Without warning, the creature’s head turned to look directly at his window, and Dorenn trembled in fright as he saw two red eyes staring back at him. He backed away from the window, stumbling over his own feet and falling to the floor with a thud. The sound of beating wings returned, and Dorenn clawed at his bed trying to get up. The sound abated, and Dorenn was surprised to see a hideous maw with long fangs inset within a twisted black face that stretched like leather over a deformed skull, elongated and gaunt. It appeared to have two small slits where a nose should have been and spiny bones jutting out around the eyes and jaw. He tried to scream but fear froze his throat tight. The creature moved to get into the small window, but it had trouble folding its wings close enough around its body to squeeze in. It saw Dorenn and made a high-pitched whine of glee as it tried to claw its way inside to get at him.