The Crystal Legacy (Book 2)

by C. Craig Coleman

  The proprietor frowned. “Now that was a strange one, never saw him before. He’s been here since morning and just sat in that corner sipping ale.”

  The innkeeper went through the reception hall following the man’s trail. He returned, scratching his head.

  Bodrin looked up. “Gone?”

  “Yes, I’m out the price of his drink.”

  Saxthor’s companions heard the comments and looked at Saxthor, who tried to hide his concern. They ate their fill in silence and retired to their rooms for the night. When the inn settled down for the evening, Tournak and Hendrel came to Saxthor and Bodrin’s room.

  “We may as well rest tonight,” Saxthor said. “We’re all too tired to travel. Even if a watcher, the man won’t be able to report his discovery before morning. He might just be a strange man. Let’s not let our imaginations get the best of us, or we’ll be changing inns all night.”

  Tournak’s hand was on his dagger. “With the wraith and medrax destroyed, something else is sure to follow. We must rise early and leave town as soon as we’ve bought provisions.”

  The wizards said goodnight and left for their room. Exhausted, Saxthor and Bodrin were soon sound asleep. Later, whining in the night, Delia woke Saxthor.

  “Surely you don’t have to go outside,” Saxthor said in a daze.

  Delia stopped poking his arm and looked up at the window. A thin, shadowy figure was peering in, silhouetted by the moonlight. Saxthor jumped out of bed, but the man was gone.

  “Wake up Bodrin.”

  Bodrin groaned and turned away. Saxthor banged on the wall of Tournak’s room, then rushed to the window to see where the man went. Saxthor was about to pull on his pants when he felt something cold slide over his bare foot. He froze.

  Bodrin shuffled and pulled up his covers. “What is it?”

  Saxthor looked down and saw a large rattlesnake coiling around his warm ankle. A chill ran up him, but he didn’t move.

  “Bodrin.”

  Bodrin punched his pillow, snuggled around another pillow and smacked his dry mouth, settling back into sleep.

  “Bodrin!” Saxthor looked down at the snake now coiled several times around his ankle. The snake’s tongue flicked, tasting the room. It looked up when Saxthor spoke.

  “What you want?” Bodrin resisted moving a muscle.

  “Wake up! There’s a rattlesnake wrapped around my ankle.”

  Bodrin yawned and turned toward Saxthor, but still didn’t open his eyes. “What?”

  Saxthor couldn’t move without alarming the snake. He had the candlestick from the bedside table in his hand. It had been the first thing he could grab and had picked it up for defense when he dashed to the window. It dawned on him as the candle burned, it could drip hot wax on the snake. He shifted his weight a bit, and the snake twitched at the movement. Saxthor tossed the candlestick at Bodrin and it hit him on his shoulder. Bodrin shot up in the bed.

  Startled by Saxthor’s movement, the snake moved out of its coil and began climbing Saxthor’s leg. The slight scratch of belly scales, gripping as it slowly climbed his leg chilled Saxthor. Goosebumps rose over him.

  “What’d you do that for?” Bodrin was rubbing his shoulder.

  Saxthor looked down and faced the rattlesnake’s head, looking up from his knee. Its tongue flicked from the poison-puffed head atop the body spiraling around his leg. Bodrin rubbed his eyes and followed Saxthor’s look down to his leg. The whites of Bodrin’s eyes swelled in the room’s moonlight. He jumped out of bed.

  “Cripes!” Bodrin looked up at Saxthor. “What do I do?”

  “I wish I knew,” Saxthor felt nauseated. He looked again at the snake. It turned its head out, swaying as it surveyed the room, tongue tasting the air. “Get your sword and wiggle it in front of the snake, but don’t poke it. That’ll only make it mad.”

  Bodrin snatched his blade from beside his bed and moved toward Saxthor, by the window. He waved the sword and the snake froze.

  “No rat to lure the thing from my leg,” Saxthor said, thinking aloud. “It’s going to climb higher or strike.”

  Bodrin was still staring at the snake. “I’ll try to chop off its head when it’s away from your leg.,”

  “That close and you’ll cut my leg or foot. If your swing is too light, you’ll just make it mad. It’ll strike at anything. I don’t like the options.”

  “Yeah, well, my eyes aren’t focused yet anyway. Any other suggestions?”

  Bodrin kept his eye on the snake, whose head was again swaying, watching him. Saxthor was weighing the prospects when the snake turned its head back to his leg and began climbing again.

  “Cripes! Hack his head off but be careful.”

  Bodrin waved the sword again, and again the snake turned his head away from Saxthor’s leg, threatening the moving blade.

  The snake’s body tightened around Saxthor’s leg as the head, supported by its contracted neck, prepared to strike. Saxthor’s heart raced; time stopped. Again, the head moved out to investigate the blade.

  Bodrin jerked back the sword and swung it down just in front of Saxthor face.

  Feeling the air rush by his nose, Saxthor’s heart pounded. Instinct closed his eyes, and then a dull thud rang out when the blade slammed into the floor between his feet. He was hesitant to look down before hearing a tiny thump. A peek revealed Bodrin was smiling. Only then, did he scan the floor and spot the open-mouthed snakehead staring up at him from two feet away. Something warm ran down his leg. The snake’s blood drained away from the still-clinging, undulating body.

  “I almost wet myself.”

  Bodrin pulled the writhing body free, throwing it into the night soil bucket. “Guess we’re even for the snake at the Sentinel Pine years ago.”

  “A little closer and I’d be a nose-less, one-footed, girl now,” Saxthor said. Bodrin laughed, but Saxthor still looked down at his leg and the sword cut in the floor, filling with snake blood. Hendrel rushed into the room.

  “Hurry and pack, it’s almost sunrise and we have to get away before more assassins come,” Saxthor said.

  “More assassins?” Hendrel looked down. “What’s that on your leg?”

  “Rattlesnake blood.”

  Bodrin just shrugged his shoulders. The snake body moved in the bucket and Hendrel jumped.

  Tournak and Hendrel brought their baggage to Saxthor’s room as the squirming snake body fell out of the night soil bucket.

  “What’s that?” Tournak drew his knife, started to the body on the floor, then jumped back when his foot kicked the staring, gaping head. “Something else you forgot to tell me about I suppose.”

  “Not to worry,” Saxthor said as he packed. Bodrin again shrugged his shoulders, and Hendrel grinned.

  “Not to worry, not to worry… with you it’s always, not to worry.” Tournak sheathed his knife.

  They returned to the dining room, surprising the maid setting the fire.

  “Good morning,” Saxthor said.

  “Good morning, Sir.”

  “We’ll need a quick breakfast and to pay our bill, if you’ll get the proprietor. Oh, and don’t be frightened, there’s a dead snake in my room.”

  “A dead snake, Sir?”

  Saxthor nodded. “Night soil bucket.”

  “I’ll get Mr. Beggels right away.”

  The frowning innkeeper hurried from the back. “You’re up very early, gentlemen. Didn’t you sleep well?” he asked, wiping his hands on his apron. “There was no one around you to disturb your rest. What can I do to make your stay better?”

  The girl whispered in his ear and he glared at her, then turned to Saxthor.

  “A snake in your room?”

  “Everything was just fine, Sir,” Saxthor said. “We must make an early start. We’d appreciate some breakfast we can take with us.”

  “Of course, Sir.” Mumbling, the innkeeper disappeared through the kitchen door. After a few moments, he returned with a basket of food and leftovers for Delia.

  �
�I’m so sorry to hear there was a snake in your room. What can I say? We’ve never had a snake in the inn before.”

  “Just a fluke, not to worry.”

  Tournak settled the bill. Then the four men and lip-smacking dog left for the river. Twit again flitted across the awnings as the first rays of dawn rose over the town. The men went up and down the wharf looking for the vendors that opened early for anglers. They needed additional food and gear for the trek up the Pundar River. Bodrin looked through the knives to replace his beloved hunting knife. Tournak searched for the dried meat, fruits, and bread that would keep on the journey, as well as enough fresh vegetables and fruits for two meals at least. Saxthor went looking for passage across the river at a reasonable rate.

  “What recommendations do you have for the journey’s next leg, Hendrel?” Saxthor asked.

  “I think we should hike to Hoya. The Pundar is narrower than the Nhy and its current stronger. Regional farmers float their crops down river to Botahar, but going back up the river is very difficult.”

  “Another reason for hiking is the watcher last night,” Tournak added, joining them again. “I’m certain he hunted us. If he sells his information about our location, the evil things pursuing us will look first on the river, where we’d be struggling to move against the current.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll hike up the right side of the Pundar to Hoya,” Saxthor said.

  In searching for the right boat to ferry the band across the river, Saxthor passed up two offers from men that made him uncomfortable. He was about to approach another boatman when an old lady dressed in clean but tattered rags tripped on the wharf and fell. Saxthor rushed over to help her up. All but one boatman yelled for the old woman to get along and not be scaring off their customers, but one boatman came to aid the old woman. Saxthor and the boatman helped her up and gently dusted her off.

  “You must be more careful, madam. The boards are warped from water and age,” the respectful boatman said. “They’ll trip the best of us in broad daylight.”

  Saxthor saw how the man soothed her wounded pride. “You mustn’t travel about on an empty stomach; have part of my roll.” As he gave the roll to the old woman, he winked to the boatman, who nodded.

  “You must allow me to repay your kindness, gentlemen.” The lady reached into her bag and took out a gold coin for the boatman. In handing it to him, she said, “Please ferry these gentlemen to the far bank, Sir.”

  “The gold coin is too generous for ferrying these men across the river.” The boatman stared at the coin, but handed it back to the old woman. She looked into his eyes, and patting his hand, rolled the coin up in it. He looked at her again and nodded then bowed deeply, hat in his other hand.

  “You’re most generous, madam,” Saxthor said. He observed the boatman knowing his world revolved around copper coins. The humble man returned to his craft, clutching the coin.

  The old woman turned to Saxthor, looking at him with a warm, motherly smile. “You’re most kind, young man. Please accept this simple gift for your trouble. I have long wanted you to have it.” She handed him a smooth cylinder of rich dark wood.

  “That’s not necessary, madam.” Saxthor put his hand gently on hers and tried to suggest she return the cylinder to her bag.

  “It’s for you; you’re supposed to have it.”

  Surprised and reluctant, Saxthor took the gift.

  “Supposed to have it, you say?” Saxthor held the beautiful, delicate case and twisted the top to slip off the cover. Inside was an exquisitely carved implement of some sort. It was made of bone and carved in a spiral that diminished toward the tip. The carved handle fit exactly to Saxthor’s hand. Inlaid in the handle was a single rune in fine gold, and just down from the handle, where his index fingertip lay was a cavity containing a fine crystal, cut and polished, with its tip focused down the shaft’s center. The carving ended in a golden arrowhead. It was a valuable piece of art. Saxthor looked again at the old woman to return the extravagant gift. The lady had gone…vanished. He wondered if she might be a witch. His first thought was to throw the implement away, but some instinct told him to hold onto it.

  “Anyone see where the old woman went?” Those who responded shook their heads no. Saxthor returned the treasure to its case and stuck it in his satchel.

  The group assembled back at the wharf in an hour, having achieved their designated assignments. Saxthor took them to the boatman. The man was still passing his gold coin through his fingers, watching its every move. When he saw Saxthor and his band, he waved the troupe aboard. The boatman flicked a backhand at Twit, who went into a flutter fit.

  “Sorry, Sir, he’s with us,” Saxthor said. The boatman looked at the enraged bird then at Saxthor, shook his head, and returned to his position at the oars. Bodrin pushed off from the dock and the boatman ferried them across the river through the swift current. They took their leave of the man, after Saxthor requested he not mention having ferried them across the river or the direction they took. He knew their crossing wouldn’t be a secret, but maybe their direction could be.

  As they climbed up the far bank and across the field just beyond, the men started to share their experiences while buying the needed items along the wharf. Bodrin chattered away about the girl at the inn the night before. He alternated between showing Saxthor his new hunting knife and talking about the house cleaner.

  “Bodrin is so funny chattering about the girl,” Saxthor said to Tournak. “We’re growing up, I guess.”

  Tournak smiled and nodded, then continued to grumble about the outrageous cost of things in Botahar. It was typical of Tournak to complain about the cost of things, and as usual, Hendrel just wanted to know where they were going.

  “The lands east of the Pundar are part of Talok Province, aren’t they?” Bodrin asked.

  “Indeed,” Tournak said.

  Saxthor took out his traveling map and looked over it with Tournak. “We’ll head for Hoya, the provincial capital.”

  “We lost already?” Bodrin asked from behind. Saxthor looked back as Bodrin poked Hendrel, walking along beside him. Hendrel grinned, then, seeing Saxthor’s glare, started whistling and looking around at the sky. Tournak pulled Saxthor back around to focus on the map.

  “Hoya is key to the economic success of Talok as most trade going north and south on the peninsular goes through there,” Tournak said. “Agricultural products from Talok, ore and minerals from the Talok Mountains, and animals from the pastures of northeastern Talok all converge on Hoya for shipment all over the peninsular.”

  “To guard such a rich source of tariffs and taxes, the old kings of Talok-Lemnos built a great fortress on the high rock crag overlooking the Pundar River,” Tournak continued pointing to Hoya on the map. “At this site, the river cuts its gorge to sheer rock at the Talok Mountains’ western end. The garrison can easily defend the strategic site from northern incursions. With Castilyernov Hoyahof to ensure safety, the traffic on the river stops there for protection from pirates and thieves. The harbor and town grew to service the traffic. This city’s wealth was the second-greatest in the kingdom when we left.”

  Hendrel poked Saxthor on the shoulder from behind as they continued to walk two-by-two along the dirt path overlooking the river. “It still is.”

  “Do you remember any of this from when you were a boy?” Tournak asked. “I know you remember your great uncle, Prince Henri.”

  “Some, but continue.”

  “The kings of Talok-Lemnos granted the province and title of Prince of Hoya to their first-born sons, as successor designation, on their twenty-first birthdays.”

  “The court school never went into all that. Remember Memlatec pounded me with it back at Hyemka.”

  Bored with the history lesson, Bodrin ran around Saxthor and walked backward in front of him. Saxthor concentrated on the map, pretending not to notice. Bodrin maneuvered his staff to slip it under Saxthor’s foot, but it caught on Bodrin’s pack, bounced off and cracked Bodrin in the he
ad. “Ouch!” The other three laughed, and Bodrin slinked back behind Saxthor, taking up his position again beside Hendrel.

  “The son of the last king of Talok-Lemnos still retains the title of Prince of Hoya and his lands around the city,” Tournak continued. “The old prince had no children when we left, and rumor had it on his death, he'd pass the title and estates to you, Saxthor. He favored you as a child. Who knows where it stands since you’ve been gone for seven years.”

  “Your own palace and lands, too,” Bodrin said.

  Saxthor looked up at Tournak. “I hadn’t heard that rumor, but if so, my entry into Hoya could be an uncertain one. As a child, I was fond of my cousin whom I called Uncle. On the annual visit to the court to pay homage to mother, Uncle Henri would always bring me some special present. I guess that meant not only was he fond of me, but that he proposed my succeeding him in Hoya.”

  We’ll stop at an inn located a day’s walk from Hoya and see what the local gossip and rumors reveal.” Saxthor turned to look at the still-frowning Bodrin. “Think you can make it that far, you poor cripple?” Bodrin frowned and rubbed the lump on his head.

  The journey up the pastoral lands along the Pundar was mostly uneventful. They saw no more signs of watchers searching the river for them. No unusual beasts plagued them along the way. Bodrin put a sharp edge on his new hunting knife, making it more his own. Tournak continued grumbling about the costs of things in Botahar, and Hendrel talked a bit about his family up in Hador.

  When they reached the outer Hoyan lands, the men stopped at a roadside inn for the night. They stayed to themselves in the shadows when they had dinner to avoid too many questions. After eating, Saxthor and Bodrin went to their room to stay out of sight. Tournak and Hendrel went to the alehouse and sat at a corner table by the door, where they drank and listened to the gossip of regulars. Most grumbling was about the bad weather and poor harvests that season, as was usual among farmers.

  “Let’s get to the subject of our interest,” Tournak said to Hendrel. He rose and offered a toast, “Good health to the Prince of Hoya.”