by Aaron Dennis
“Where’s the barn?” Scar asked.
“We’ll find it,” Ylithia snipped.
It was one of two other wooden buildings on the property and about fifty yards from the house. No doors blocked their entry, so when they walked in, they scanned the surroundings through the nearly impenetrable darkness. The sleeping boar, Sniffer, was easy enough to spot; he was enormous. There were also a few sheep lazing about. Scar threw his blanket onto a pile of hay and laid down to rest. Ylithia laid next to him.
“So what’s the plan, here?” Scar asked.
“Get some sleep, and when Foxus wakes us, we’ll get directions to Kathka.”
“Ever been?”
“No, but if it’s like every other Fafnirian city, we’ll be able to find transport to Othnatus,” she answered.
“Are you mad?”
“No,” she pouted.
“You sound mad,” he complained.
“You shouldn’t have brought up his family.”
“It was an accident,” he chuckled.
“Go to sleep.”
“You’re sure you’re not mad?”
She chuckled, saying, “I’m not mad.”
Then she kissed him and rolled over.
“Night,” he whispered.
****
“Sarkany, wake.”
There was some confusion roaming about Scar’s head. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, or if he was even awake.
“Scar, Ylithia?” a voice called.
“Sarkany!”
“Mmmf?” Scar slurred upon waking. “What now?”
“Ahoy,” Foxus chuckled.
“Oh,” Scar smiled and grumbled as he came to his feet.
Ylithia was stretching her arms and yawning. The predawn twilight graced the interior of the barn. Sniffer the boar grunted and sauntered up to the old Fafnirian.
“Sleep alright out here?” Foxus asked.
“It was wonderful,” Ylithia replied.
Scar nodded then rolled his shoulders. He nodded to Foxus with a flickering smile.
“Not an early riser, are you?” the old man asked.
“Just haven’t gotten much sleep lately is all, but thank you. You’re accommodations were more than sufficient,” Scar stated.
“Well, I’m just glad I didn’t bore you two to death last night,” Foxus grinned. “Anyway, I’ve got some things for you. Travelling supplies, you see? My old tent, a canteen with fresh water, you can keep those old blankets by the way, the horses don’t need ‘em anymore,” he joked. “Wrapped up some biscuits for your breakfast, also here is a little, hand drawn map of the area with my home here,” he pointed to a nicely sketched map while they maneuvered the supplies between each other. “The main road is about ten miles to the southeast, and you can see that leads to Kathka….”
“Why thank you so much, Foxus,” Ylithia said. “You didn’t have to go through such trouble.”
“Trouble? Please,” he answered with a dismissive wave. “You two were kind enough to listen to the ramblings of a forgotten, old man. I just pray you learn from your elders…anyway, Scar, I wanted to give you this.” Foxus left the map with Ylithia and took an old bow that was leaning inconspicuously against the wall behind him. “It was Reelus’s.”
“Nooo, I can’t,” Scar smiled meekly.
“I insist,” the old man said giving a pleading nod. “It’s just been sitting above the fireplace, and every night I drink in front of it wondering if my sons are alright. At least this way, I’ll know it’s going to good use. You can shoot a bow, right?”
Scar glanced at Ylithia before saying, “Yes…I’m certainly a decent shot.”
Foxus laughed loudly for a second then had to stop to catch his breath, adding, “I’ve got arrows, too, you big, old fool.” They shared an awkward chuckle, but ultimately Scar accepted the gifts with a humble bowing of the head. “Just do me one favor,” Foxus begged.
“Anything,” Scar replied.
“If you see my sons, hear their names spoken in the cities, tell them to visit their old man.”
Ylithia frowned and took Scar’s wrist in both hands. She looked at him with Foxus’s sympathies playing on her eyes.
“Of course, Foxus,” the mercenary said. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for the names Rolus and Reelus.”
Holding back a tear, the old Fafnirian stood fully erect, tried to keep his lip from trembling then patted both the travelers before saying, “Goodbye, young friends. Travel safe.”
They shook hands. Scar slung the bow over his shoulder, secured the quiver with eight arrows onto his belt, and he and Ylithia shared the remaining supplies.
“Your swords are just outside,” Foxus added as they patted one another gently on the shoulder.
The warriors scooped up their blades, oriented themselves while scarfing biscuits, and made for the southeast.
Chapter Twenty- A Closic way of life
The trip from Foxus’s farmstead to the main road tying together the major cities of Closicus was an easy traverse for the hardened travelers. They reminisced about the old Fafnirian, whom they had liked immensely, and Ylithia believed Scar would one day make an excellent father himself. He was uncertain about raising children, but hadn’t ruled it out as a future possibility.
“Do you think bringing a child into this world is a good idea?” he asked.
She frowned before replying, “I don’t know, truthfully. It would seem a loving family might do well, so long as the flames of war don’t reach Othnatus.”
“And if they do?”
“We can deal with such an issue if it ever arises.”
Nothing else was said until Scar noticed the tracks of deer. “Look.” He stopped and pointed.
“We’ve lots of ground to cover today, Scar.”
“It’ll take only a moment. Let us follow these tracks. This bow was a gift and should be put to use as such.”
She winced and placed a hand on her hip. Her penetrating gaze belied her irritation.
“Come now,” he smiled. “I’m tired of wielding weapons against people. Let me have a little fun. What is life without fun?”
He chuckled, kissed her forehead, and awaited her reply. She sighed in resignation. Having never fired a bow, at least to his recollection, he wondered about how difficult bagging a deer might be.
“Deer’s not worth too much,” she said.
“Maybe not. I should think a decent sized buck will bring in enough for passage through Closicus without having to resort to more lies or begging, though.”
She shrugged at his reply. During his skulking over flattened grasses Ylithia chastised him once or twice for wasting valuable time, but he maintained that they needed money.
“Is this really about money?”
He glanced at her emerald eyes and continued moving low to the ground. She followed at a polite distance. A quick traipse through the woods revealed more deer tracks in the sandy areas between larger trees. Scar posted up against an oak with rub marks from buck antlers, and it wasn’t long before luck presented him with a hefty ten pointer; Closicus was certainly deer country.
He saw the gorgeous beast sniff at some leaves. While it licked the morning dew, Scar nocked an arrow, drew back, and with an exhalation, he let loose an arrow that soared through the wind and struck the animal just behind the foreleg. The blow knocked the deer over, so Scar nabbed his sword, ran at it, and went for the death blow, but it was too late. He had shot the deer in the heart on his first try.
Ylithia chuckled, but then made a sad face, saying, “He’s so pretty.”
“Pretty yes, pretty and dead.”
“Now what?” she asked.
Scar dithered about for a second before putting his sword away, slinging the bow over his shoulder, and then the deer over the other. Ylithia marveled at his strength. He gave her a grin of satisfaction and smugness. She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, you planned well for our financial future,” she said sardonically. “Now le
t’s hurry on.”
Shortly after walking through a small wooded area peppered with firs and oaks, they found a beautifully cobbled street of gray stone roughly ten feet wide. Elegant arches supported by etched pillars were spaced every hundred paces or so along the road. Scar gawked at them. They clearly didn’t serve any purpose.
“You should see them in the spring when the vines grow about them,” Ylithia said. “Now, according to Foxus’s expertly sketched map, we follow the road eastward in order to reach Kathka by nightfall.”
“Excellent. A steady walk over a street will be far less straining than the recent hiking.”
“And here I thought you were enjoying the long haul through the country.”
“Yes, well…I think my boots have nearly had it,” he replied. It was moments later while he eyed the shadows cast by the standing arches that he suddenly blurted out. “Have you ever heard the word Sarkany?”
Ylithia stopped her march to look at him. “I do not think so. Why?” Scar shrugged, frowned, rubbed the back of his head and made a dismissive maneuver with his hand. “Where did you hear it? Or did you read of it in Alduheim?”
“Alduheim?” he asked more of himself. “Perhaps that is where I picked it up…Sarkany, it is familiar somehow.”
“Perhaps it is from your memory.”
“Could be you’re right,” he smiled. “Do you think they’ll ever come back? My memories, I mean.”
She smiled peacefully, saying, “I should think so…in time.”
They resumed their journey towards Kathka. For a while longer they passed trimmed oaks and narrow firs alongside the street. Someone had kept the trees pruned and the road free of debris. By sunset, they met a group of travelers wearing nice clothing. Two men, a woman, and a young boy were walking together.
Scar noted what he assumed the customary garb of Fafnirians; they wore long pants of gray or brown, laced tunics, and the woman had a straw hat on that covered her hair, which was pulled up and neatly tucked away. The older man—he had short, brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard—pulled the boy close as he eyed the two approaching the city. The boy mumbled something and pointed.
“I’m sure they won’t harm us,” the younger man said.
Scar gave Ylithia a gentle nudge and pointed with his nose to step off to the side of the road, thus providing the family ample room to walk and without feeling threatened.
“We’re just on our way to Kathka,” Scar offered as the family drew closer.
An uneasy smile flickered across the older man’s face. His eyes drifted toward the dead animal. The woman pretended not to see anything at all.
“You’re big,” the boy said and giggled. “You killed that deer?”
“He certainly is big, young lad,” Ylithia smiled.
“I did kill this deer, boy,” Scar said. “He’s big, too, huh?”
Again the man pulled his son closer and skirted around the travelers. The younger man chuckled.
“You’ll have to forgive my brother and his family,” the man said. “We’ve heard of you. That’s why they’re so nervous.”
They all came to a stop. The father was obviously edgy, and his wife remained impassive, but the boy and his uncle were interested in the travelers; the buck had definitely piqued the boy’s interest.
“Really?” Scar asked. “From whom?”
“Oh come, now,” the young man said. “You’re the one they used to call the Ghost of Zmaj. Word travels fast in Closicus. I am named Garnicus. I am a writer,” he added, beaming.
“Brother,” the father warned.
Garnicus ignored him and gave a flicker of the wrist to send them along saying, “I’ll catch up to you.” When the family wandered off down the road, Garnicus continued. “I hope I’m not imposing, but I should think this is my only chance to talk with you and what appears to be a Paladin of Mekosh.”
“You certainly are bold,” Ylithia quipped.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t born wise, my mother always said,” he chuckled.
“What does a writer want with us?” Scar asked, intrigued.
“I write many articles about the war front, and like it or not, the man with no name, who turned out to be King of Alduheim is a unique topic. I should also like to write about a bare faced paladin,” Garnicus trailed off.
“You seem nice enough, Garnicus,” Ylithia replied. “But we must hurry if we are to reach Kathka by evening.”
“Just a few questions,” he implored. “Or perhaps I could buy you dinner at a tavern?”
Scar grinned and was about to thank the man for his generosity when Ylithia interrupted. “We’ve no time, so if you have one or two questions, we’ll answer, but that’s all.”
Garnicus laughed as he glanced at the two. “She’s obviously in charge,” he said. Scar shrugged knowingly. “All right. I’ll be quick then. Why did you fight for Zoltek?”
Scar looked about to ponder the question briefly, replying, “The first thing I can recall was being attacked by Dracos. I fled into Usaj with no knowledge of who I was or what I was doing, and word spread that I had bested a squad of enemies. After that, a messenger found me with a letter from Zoltek. I went to see him, and he promised me that he would ask Zmaj about me.”
“And why did you switch sides?”
“General Dumar tried to kill me and then Lovenhaad, the severity paladin, tried to kill me. A captain from Gilgamesh’s army helped me defeat him and claimed that I was King of Alduheim. The man’s friendship restored my trust in humanity,” Scar explained.
“Then why aren’t you in Alduheim now? I thought Gilgamesh was trying to foster peace by resurrecting the old country,” Garnicus stated.
Scar frowned and looked away, saying, “I am trying to learn of the world.”
“Oh,” Garnicus said, slightly surprised. “I suppose as a king you should learn by firsthand experience. It certainly bridges the wide gap between the nobility and the common folk…. Now, what about you, my Lady. What’s a Paladin of Severity doing showing her face?”
“Don’t be rude,” she accosted.
Garnicus chuckled again. He had not taken offense nor meant any.
“I’m sorry,” he started. “What I meant to ask is what role you are playing in the war. Travelling with the king, you must be important.”
“I thank you for your interest, Garnicus, but have no desire to answer your questions,” she affirmed.
“I see,” the writer replied with a disappointed tone. “Well then, thank you for your time. I’ll make sure to let everyone know the King of Alduheim is a regal man with time enough for the lower class.”
Garnicus smiled, shook hands with Scar, and then jogged off down the road to meet with his family. He had made certain to ignore Ylithia due to her peevishness, and she knew it.
“You could have been nicer,” Scar suggested.
“I didn’t want to talk to him about our business,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Writers tend to skew the truth for their own gain.”
“What is there to gain?”
“Money, fame, rank, you can never be too certain.”
“They are your people,” Scar argued.
“That’s exactly the point; a Fafnirian can twist words in a most efficient manner. Besides…they were my people.”
He frowned figuring she was just tired of traveling. “I’d best be careful not to argue with you then,” he jested and nudged her.
She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. The two then resumed their trek in silence and reached the outskirts of Kathka shortly after the stars came out. A light fog swirled about the standing arches. Off to the east, Scar noted a looming shape that seemed to follow them. Repeatedly trying to cast glances through the thin wood line, he clicked his tongue.
“What are you doing?” Ylithia finally asked.
When he caught a reasonable break in the thinning firs, he pointed. “Over there. What is that?”
She looked. He was referring to a very long shape that stood on many le
gs way out in a meadow beyond the city’s exterior. The shape was well over a hundred feet in height.
“It’s the aqueduct,” she laughed.
“What is that?”
“It’s a system of arches that supports a construct for running water to the large cities.”
His eyes went wide in disbelief. “I should like to see that in the daytime.”
“I’m certain you will, but hurry it along. We should be in Kathka soon.”
With a nod, he resumed walking, but occasionally tried to peek through the firs. What little moonlight remained only revealed the long, ominous shape in the distance. Ylithia tapped him and moved her nose as indication to look. Night patrolmen stood on the road. They greeted the travelers before asking after their business in Kathka.
Ylithia let on that they were just passing through on the way to Othnatus. The guards admonished them about the laws regarding the carrying of weapons. While it was perfectly legal to stroll with a blade, it had to be secured. Peace knots were preferred, but neither had the type of sheath or scabbard to allow for them.
“Just keep them out of your grip then,” the guard stated.
After agreeing, the patrol went on with their business- observing their city’s perimeter. Once Scar walked far enough along the road, the firs opened up, and Kathka was before them; numerous buildings surrounded by the cobbled streets. As a whole, it was a bustling city not unlike Oros, a nexus of trade. The architecture, however, was astoundingly different.
Most notably, the city was split into two sections by an extremely wide section of road, which made it nearly impossible to see into Kathka from the streets, at least at night. Also, the taller buildings were nearly all attached by suspended walkways; buttresses and arches were prevalent in order to sustain the short bridges from building to building. Once Scar managed to look away from the astounding structural design, he asked a guard about the location of a butcher; he wanted to offload his buck. Directions were promptly provided.
The entire city had a very bland, gray look to it, and there were no torches on posts, but the shops had lanterns over their wooden signs. The butcher’s shop displayed a cleaver painted over a shield shaped emblem. It wasn’t difficult to locate. Inside, scar approached the counter. Behind a bronze man wearing a bloody apron were skinned rabbits, geese, and a few live chickens cackling in a cage.
