Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  He nodded and slid a counter to the border. "Anything else?"

  "No, but people fleeing from his men are scared."

  He smiled without humour. "That's a given. If half of what we've heard is true, then the situation down there is terrible." He straightened and gestured toward a woman who appeared at the door, a tray in her hands.

  She stepped inside and set the tray on a table to the side of the room. She gave the king a nod and hurried out.

  "Please sit and eat while I look at the message of yours." He unrolled the scroll, his eyes scanning the paper before a genuine smile graced his face. "Ah, very good." He didn't look surprised. Clearly he was expecting Ara to agree to his demands.

  Laynin sat and poured tea for the three of them while Zannis reached for a small cake.

  "Do you really think Rosharias will invade Marth?" Laynin asked, passing a cup to the king.

  "I believe so." He sat in the chair opposite them. "It seems he's spent the last sixteen years waiting and planning. And gathering magin and zealots."

  "Euru worshippers?" Laynin's thoughts returned to Travin again.

  "Those too. According to my sources, he's stirred everyone up with the belief that Euru is the one true god, and the magin should rule the kingdoms." His mouth tightened. "I suspect he'd be happy if those who believed as he did are all who are left when the dust settles."

  Zannis made a rude noise. "He can't make people worship nonsense."

  "He can kill them if they don't," Laynin replied.

  Drexin murmured his agreement. "I'll do my utmost to ensure that doesn't happen," he said firmly. "He won't get past us or your dragons."

  Laynin had a sinking feeling he'd work hard to convince Ara that the draakin couldn't stay out of the conflict. He and Ara were going to butt heads, she could see it now. Which of them would prevail remained to be seen.

  28

  The rocking of the wagon lulled Travin, but he sang nonetheless. He kept his voice low, just loud enough to be heard over the clip-clop of hooves. The trader hummed along from time to time, if he knew the tune. At the end of the song, Travin fell silent and took a few sips from a water gourd the trader had offered to share with him.

  "It's right pleasant to have some music on my travels," the trader remarked. He'd introduced himself simply as Quil, and agreed to let Travin ride with him on his wagon in exchange for a few songs, and any news the bard had to share. He'd been singing ever since.

  "It's kind of you to let me travel with you," Travin said, swallowing to help relieve his dry throat.

  "There are days when it's best not to travel alone," Quil said. "I've heard talk of the king's men seizing wagons and their goods for the soldiers."

  "Which king?" Travin asked.

  Quil grunted. "Doesn't matter. They're as bad as each other, I reckon. Take your braids and spill your blood with their war without a thought for the families left behind." He leaned out of the wagon and spat on the ground.

  "Lucky I'm a singer," he added, to Travin's surprise. "I ain't got the voice for it, mind you, but I can do it if I need to." He looked around as if there might be someone within hearing. "I almost killed a man who tried to steal from me. Didn't mean to, just got angry he'd pull that stunt. Dropped to his knees, blood comin' out his nose. Stopped right quick, I did. I bet he never touched a man's goods after that."

  He gave a bark which could have been a bitter laugh. "I ain't sung since. Scared myself silly doin' that."

  "I'd imagine you would," Travin agreed, thinking back to the vagabond who had tried to rob him while he was drunk. He hadn't thought to use magic in the tavern, thank Euru. If he had, he might have killed that man, and been executed shortly after. He rubbed his neck as though the rope was tight around it, pressing in, cutting off his air.

  He sucked in a breath and forced his hand down, although suddenly, leaving Tsaisa didn't seem so bad. At least he was alive.

  "So you travel these roads often?"

  "Aye. Up to Phido and down to Port Jaret. Takes the better part of the year to make the trip, but in Jaret they pay good money for Eritsan silk. Before Rosharias, I could have sold them to the rich Aarlish folk. Now I sell to the traders who ship it out to other kingdoms. Probably raise the price one, two hundred times, but what can I do? I can't afford a ship." He gave his barking laugh again.

  "Neither can I," Travin replied with a wry smile. "I probably couldn't afford passage on one."

  Quil chuckled. "Aye, why leave here anyway? I hear say there are prettier places, but I like it here just fine."

  "So do I, and there is still much of the four… The kingdoms I haven't seen yet."

  "You're barely old enough to be off your mother's teat," Quil said, "there's time a plenty to see the rest of it." He nodded ahead. "We're comin' into Koo now. You sure you want to stop here?"

  "There's some folk I'd like to check on." He owed Laynin nothing, but he wanted to be sure her family was safe, and maybe ask them to send word to her.

  "Suit yourself." Quil shrugged.

  They fell into silence until the wagon rolled into Koo and Quil drew the horses to a stop.

  "I'm going on. You're welcome to come if you can catch us up."

  "Thank you." At the speed the wagon went, Travin could trot for an hour or two and catch it up even if he spent a good deal of time here. He reached for his bag and guitar and jumped clear before the wagon rolled away.

  He passed a few people who gave him a nod before hurrying on. They weren't as furtive as the last time he was here, but the village still felt on edge. Perhaps it was just him. Those people he saw looked occupied, if the loads they carried or pushed in hand carts was an indication. They had no time to stop and talk to strangers, even if they were inclined to.

  He hurried toward Laynin's parents' cottage. The first thing he noticed as he approached were the flowers under the front windows. They were wilted. Not enough time had passed for weeds to grow, but they looked unkempt.

  He tapped on the door and waited. No response. He knocked again, then peered in the front window. The house looked deserted.

  "There's no one there," a young voice called out from behind him.

  He turned to see a young woman standing in the street, a basket laden with apples held in her arms.

  "Do you know where they are?" he asked, noting her wary gaze and standing still.

  "No idea. They left the night the king's men came through."

  "When was that?"

  Two…three nights ago," she replied.

  Just after his and Laynin's visit. Had their warning encouraged them to leave or had something happened with Rosharias's men?

  "I see. Do you know anyone who might know which way they went?"

  She pointed toward the village's simple docks. "Arram," she said simply, then was gone, hurrying away.

  Presuming Arram was a person, Travin headed in the direction she'd indicated.

  The small fishing fleet had arrived back from the night's trawling a short time ago, if the bustle of men and nets was any indication. The place was redolent with the smell of fresh fish and ocean air, honest toil and grease.

  Travin stopped the first fisher he saw and asked, "Where might I find Arram?"

  "Cap'n Arram's on the Fin," the man grunted and trudged off, arms laden with the night's catch.

  Travin's gaze skimmed the ships for their names. Scale, Sea Draakin, Sea Fire… Dragon Fin. It was an odd name for a boat, especially since dragons didn't have fins, but given the figurehead at the prow looked half dragon and half fish, he supposed it made sense to someone.

  "Captain Arram?" he asked, dressing an older man as he stepped off the deck.

  "Aye, who's asking?"

  "Uh, my name is Travin, I'm a bard. I was looking for some friends of mine; Kaisen and Javena Laithorn. They have a daughter named Reeka."

  "I know 'em," he grunted. "They left." He turned to tend to a rope tied around a bollard on the dock.

  "I know they have, I was wondering if you
knew where they'd gone."

  Arram sighed loudly. "Why do you want to know?"

  "I'm friends with their daughter, Laynin," Travin admitted, although he wasn't sure they were even that now. "I know she's worried about them, so I wanted to check in on them on my way past."

  Arram considered him for a moment. "I don't know for sure, but talk has it they went with the king's men. Might have been by choice, might not." Whatever he thought of that, he gave no indication.

  "And where might the king's men be?" Travin asked.

  "Rumour says they're in and around Fledros," Arram replied, "to the south east. You don't want to be going there. They don't take kindly to folks who aren't like them."

  "Magin?" Travin asked. Had they taken Laynin's family because they'd discovered Reeka was magin? He knew the family wouldn't tell them unless they were under duress. Perhaps someone in the village had mentioned it by accident. Or to avoid casting suspicion on themselves.

  "Them and those who follow Euru. You're not welcome here if you think people have to believe—"

  "Oh, I don't," Travin replied hastily. "People can worship however they choose."

  "Mmm. Well, you'd best go anywhere but Fledros. Word is they're preparing to invade Marth. You go there, you'll end up sword fodder. Unless that's what you want."

  "No, not at all," Travin replied with a nervous laugh. "I plan to live for a long time."

  "Right. Well turn around and go back north. Kaisen can take care of his family. Tell his daughter they're fine. Now, if there's no more questions, I have work to be doing."

  "Of course. Thank you." Travin found himself smiling at the back of the man's head. He couldn't blame him for being gruff. The king's men had been through the village a time or two, less than gently by the sound of it.

  He felt a dozen eyes on him as he walked away from the dock. He considered his options. He had three of them: go back north as Arram suggested, head south and catch up with Quil and his wagon, or head south-east and find Rosharias.

  He cast another look at the Laithorn house, disappointed that he couldn't offer Laynin any answers she'd like. He may find them when he found the king's men.

  Squaring his shoulders and pushing the strap of his guitar bag back into place, he found the east road and started off toward Fledros.

  29

  The closer Travin came to Fledros, the more people he encountered. They traveled in both directions, some leaving the town, some headed there. Mostly the latter.

  Some were soldiers, but many were traders, or those who wanted to be camp followers. While some might only want to cook or help with daily tasks, he was sure many of the women and men had braids in mind, in return for bed favours. He couldn't blame them. They would eat and most likely be treated well. There were worse ways to make a living.

  "And so, friends, Euru beseeches you," a voice declared from up ahead, "to hold your heads up and remember—" The voice dropped so Travin couldn't hear the words.

  He hurried up the road and found a congregation of people seated beneath a tree. A priest of around Travin's age stood in front of them. His robes were dusty, and there seemed to be mud on the hem, but his listeners were enraptured.

  Tired from hours of walking, Travin lowered his belongings to the ground and sat in the shade beside them to listen.

  "Ask not when you can be reborn, or what you can become in the next life," the priest said, his accent a southern drawl, "praise Euru, you will be reborn."

  "Praise Euru," the congregation repeated. Travin echoed them a moment later.

  "Remember friends, what you do in this life will help you to become incredible in the next."

  Travin frowned at the contradiction, but no one else seemed to mind.

  "Euru will decide the path for you. Go forth and praise Euru."

  "Praise Euru."

  "Spread the word of Euru."

  "Spread the word."

  "Euru loves you, friends."

  "And you too, friend."

  With that, the priest gave a bow and stepped aside as his listeners rose.

  Comfortable for the moment, Travin grabbed his bag and pulled out a chunk of bread. As he bit into it, the priest flopped down next to him.

  "Good afternoon, friend," he said cheerfully

  "Good afternoon," Travin replied.

  "I'm Kial," He held out his hand for Travin to shake.

  "Travin."

  "It's nice to meet you." Kial smiled, showing a dimple in his right cheek. "Did you stop to eat, or to worship?"

  "Both," Travin admitted. That earned him another smile and a flash of even teeth.

  "Praise Euru you found us when you did, then," Kial enthused. "There aren't many temples out on the road. I've been stopping when I can, so people can worship before they continue on their journey. Where are you headed?"

  "Fledros," Travin replied. He watched the other man's eyes, waiting for his reaction. Would he, like Arram, warn him to stay away from Rosharias?

  Instead, Kial smiled broadly. "Me too." He reached for his own bag and pulled out an apple. "Would you like to travel with me? I could use the company."

  His response was a welcome change from the negativity of so many others in the last few days. Kial certainly seemed harmless enough, and truthfully, he was a handsome man. His charm probably got him a long way with people.

  "All right," Travin replied, after a few moments. "That would be nice. Maybe you can tell me what it takes to become a priest of Euru." He wasn't sure where the idea came from, but once he'd said it, it made sense. Maybe that was why he was here, to cement his beliefs and help spread the word amongst those actually willing to listen.

  "I'd be happy to." Kial said. "Euru always welcomes new devotees, or those willing to spread the word." He fell in beside Travin. "Most training takes place in the temple, but I can give you guidance as we go. If nothing else, it'll help you decide if that's what you really want. The road isn't always an easy one. I've been chased out of some towns because their minds aren't open enough."

  "I know how that feels," Travin replied ruefully. He told Kial about Tsaisa, mentioning Laynin only as a friend.

  Kial gave a heavy sigh when Travin finished speaking. "I'm sorry you endured that. It seems to be the way of those in the north. They pass judgment on things they know nothing about, and won't listen to attempts at enlightenment. And yet some of them believe in gods who insist they dance around naked under the full moon." His expression changed from chagrin to a smile. "Fortunately Euru doesn't mind if people do that."

  Travin chuckled. "It sounds like you're speaking from experience."

  "I most certainly am. The soul may have many lives, but each life is short and should be enjoyed."

  "So how do you feel about people fighting in wars, then?" Travin asked. "They don't look like much fun."

  Kial held up a finger. "There are always exceptions. When something is right, we must fight for it and know Euru is watching, ready to help us to the next life. Besides, have you never heard of men who love to fight?"

  Travin thought back to the men in the tavern. He suspected they got some enjoyment out of it, as he might get some out of exacting revenge on them. Kial had a point. When you believed in something, you should stand up for it. Laynin wouldn't have let anyone disparage the dragons. Borvin stood up for his tavern. Both of them should have better understood his viewpoint. Neither had tried to do that, and that was maddening.

  "You're right," he said finally. "I think that's why Euru is leading me down this road. I didn't back up my beliefs well enough before. It's time for me to do that now."

  Kial clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man. I can feel Euru's pride in you. Can you?"

  Travin wasn't sure if he felt anything, or merely imagined it, but he nodded. "I think I can. Thank you for showing me the way."

  "I did nothing," Kial replied, tossing his apple core into the trees and rubbing his hands on his robe. "I'm just following my own path, which has intersected with yours. Perhaps we'll
intersect a little more when we reach Fledros." He winked at Travin, who blushed.

  "I'd like that," he replied softly.

  30

  If he only counted buildings, Fledros was about the same size as Tsaisa. However, if Travin counted the current residents, it would be several times larger. The town centre and outlying fields overflowed with tents, cook fires and people. A large space had been set aside for weapons practice. Perhaps a dozen men were making use of it as Travin and Kial walked past. They stopped for a few minutes to admire their skill before Kial led him past and into the town itself.

  "I'm sure you'd be welcome to stay at the temple." He gestured toward a simple, low building situated on its own piece of land, which was noticeably free of tents.

  "That would be great. Not that I mind sleeping on the ground, but a bed would be a nice change." Travin rubbed his back, where a stick had dug in when he rolled over the night before.

  Kial chuckled. "That it would. I've been sleeping by the side of roads for weeks now. I miss pillows, and the company of other believers. Of course, everyone here in town worships Euru, but only those at the temple have devoted their entire lives to our god. I can be myself around them. Y'know?"

  "Like minded people are always easier to deal with," Travin agreed. He would feel safer surrounded by those who shared his beliefs. He couldn't discount the possibility some here in town were coerced, or feigning devotion because they wanted to fight or make braids. That made him uneasy. He wasn't sure he was ready to embrace Kial's level of dogma, but he had no cause to doubt his earnestness and that of his peers. In the temple, he might be able to relax for the first time in days.

  "Good. Come, let's put our belongings down, then there's someone I'd like you to meet."

  Kial nodded to several priests and priestesses as he led him into the temple. In spite of more or less living in the middle of a war camp, most looked serene, unworried. They reminded him a little of Zannis. Nothing much seemed to worry her either.