The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  “How long have they served the Dahara?”

  “Five hundred years perhaps,” Firetail sounded thoughtful. “We have developed an unspoken way of communication with them. They have built their entire way of life around their service to my clan. I believe they see us as living embodiments of higher beings.”

  “I can understand that. I’m riding on your back, and I’m still not sure if you’re real,” Sim smiled.

  “I too believed the Dahara were myths, Firetail,” Nehrea added, stroking his flank affectionately.

  “And here I walk, with the first Collora in a thousand years, and a living, breathing, Harven sitting atop my back. You are not the only ones suspending your disbelief, my friends,” Firetail laughed.

  Once they passed the last tent, and verged beyond the Showtokan encampment, the Dahara set a blistering pace. Sim and Nehrea leaned forward into the wind and grabbed hold of Firetail’s flank. They watched the rolling fields and thickets of trees fly past as they made their way south.

  “You’re going to exhaust yourself running like this,” Sim shouted to his mount.

  “I’m hardly running at all,” Firetail called back with a laugh.

  Sim peeked over his shoulder to Fallastar, running just a few steps behind Firetail. Enaya sat behind Givara, clutching her guardian with an angry scowl.

  Givara sat up proudly, unfazed by the Dahara's incredible speed, a queen always. Her fiery green eyes scanned the passing countryside, the perfect picture of vigilance.

  Enaya would need to be filled in on what Sim had seen. Though it was fun, in an oddly sadistic way, to watch her suffer with the consequences of her chosen rejection, she was still the leader of their group. He hoped she would calm down and accept that she was no longer the object of his desire. It would be hard going forward if they couldn’t keep their relationship cordial.

  Nehrea’s hair whipped about, filling his nose with her floral scent. He thought of the road ahead without her, and his heart ached. Their romance had been brief, but his affection was fully-formed. He felt himself falling for her, in a deeply possessive way. Would his heart be able to withstand the yearning once they parted?

  ********************************************************************

  “Look at them,” Enaya grumbled to Givara, as Fallastar raced across the open fields.

  “I don’t want any part of this, Enaya,” Givara answered firmly.

  In matters of emotion, Givara was rarely of any help. The former queen was always stoic and passionless. She was practiced in controlling her emotions, and always appearing in command. Enaya wished she had even a drop of Givara’s strength.

  “But honestly, Givara, it’s scandalous!” she persisted. “He’s practically groping her right now. You don’t think they…slept in the same tent last night? Do you?”

  Enaya could virtually feel Givara’s eyes rolling.

  “Enaya, I’m not getting involved,” Givara told her curtly. “The boy made his intentions clear, and you rebuked him. Did you expect him to continue pining for your attentions forever?”

  “Well I certainly didn’t expect him to jump into another woman’s bed so quickly.”

  Givara sighed audibly. “You’ve only yourself to blame. We have a long ride ahead. I don’t want to hear you whining about the boy the whole way.”

  “Whining!” Enaya screamed aghast. “I’m not whining. I never whine. I’m simply looking out for Sim. There’s too much riding on that fool boy. What if they consummate? Do you want to deal with that headache? He’s barely any good to us as he is, let alone if he’s worrying about an infant and a wife.”

  “An infant and a wife?” Givara laughed out loud. “You’re getting ahead of yourself now, Enaya. They’re just two young kids having fun. Let it go.”

  “Mark my words on this, Givara,” Enaya insisted. “Nothing good will come of this romance. It won’t end well. He’s already emotionally damaged. Do I even have to remind you that he recently watched his parents die? For the light of heaven, that girl was a palace whore. She’ll only hurt him worse. Once that happens, can you imagine how hard it will be to remind him of what he’s fighting for? You’ll see.”

  “And I’m sure if it does happen as you say, that you’ll be sure to remind me that you were right,” Givara remarked.

  “I don’t always have to be right, you know,” Enaya muttered, grudgingly. “I just always happen to be right.”

  Givara remained silent after that. Enaya tried several times to coerce her guardian into more conversation, but to no avail. The truth was that she didn’t care what they talked about, she just wanted something to take her mind off of Siminus Kelmor.

  There had been a pit in her stomach ever since he’d brought up the nature of their relationship the day before. It was an inevitable conversation, but one she would have preferred to avoid. Things were fine just as they were.

  She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but there simply wasn’t any room for romance. Their relationship was complicated enough without intimacy turning it into an irredeemable mess.

  He was a breathlessly handsome man, muscular and strong, inadvertently funny and charming. If circumstances were different, if he had been noble born for instance, there might have been a chance. Sim was just the crude, naïve son of an innkeeper, hardly fit to hold the hand of a woman of her station.

  But then again, where did she fall in the order of society? By now, her family was surely dead. Her actions would cause her family to lose all of its titles and distinctions. Was she even a noble anymore? Was she holding on to an antiquated ideology of class and decorum? They were necessary questions to ask, but difficult problems to answer.

  The terrain to the east began to level off, as the mountains turned into hills and then into broken fragments of rock reaching out of the ground. A stream ran a twisting course among the rough landscape, which grew wider and stronger, becoming a river as they continued south.

  Enaya guessed that it was the Caulder River, which fed the Water Woods, eventually emptying into the Southern Ocean. The Caulder River separated the lower lands of Perth, and served as the main source of water for the farming towns that dominated the region.

  Eventually the gray, overcast clouds gave way to pools of blue sky, where bright sunlight poured down to the farms that dotted the western horizon.

  The Dahara led them to the shores of the river and used the scenic spot to take an afternoon break. The party dismounted and poked around their individual satchels for a meal, while the Dahara put their noses into the bright blue water to have a much needed drink. Enaya guessed that they had ridden for a few hours at a pace that was at least twice the speed of a full gallop on the back of a normal horse.

  She shook her head and marveled at the magnificent animals. Their pristine white coats shone with an indescribable vitality as if they were impervious to dirt and mud. She wondered about their golden bumps. It was almost as if they once had horns that were cut away and polished to a perfect sheen.

  Her father had told her stories of the Dahara when she was a little girl. She had grown up with horses, and often pretended she was riding on the backs of one of the mythical stallions. They were the innocent fantasies of a precocious young girl. Now, she had actually ridden on the back of a true to life Dahara. The little girl deep within wanted to shout with glee.

  Still, she felt an aching in her heart whenever she thought of Sim. It was foolish to feel so disturbed. She knew that it was. But every time she looked over and saw Sim and Nehrea holding hands or embracing, waves of deep envy pushed her to sharp feelings of irrationality. She wanted to smack Nehrea right across her smug, priggish face.

  And Sim! The utter nerve of that backwoods lout. How dare he! It was true she had rebuked his advances the day before, but was this behavior necessary? Was he merely trying to show her up like some fool child? The thought of him made her insides tie in knots.

  She watched them take a seat on a smooth flat rock that rested near the water’s edge. Si
m took a bite of his bread and offered Nehrea a piece. Like an immoral tart, she leaned forward and let him feed it to her. Then as if she knew that Enaya was watching, Nehrea put her arms around Sim’s neck and began to nuzzle the lobe of his ear. Sim groaned like an infantile fool, rolling his eyes up in his head to a comical degree. The whole scene was enough to make Enaya want to throw up.

  Nehrea suddenly looked up and squarely caught Enaya staring. A jolt of embarrassment flushed her skin, and she quickly looked away, mortified at having been caught gawking.

  Givara, sitting in the grass a few steps away, witnessed the whole humiliating scene and shook her head with an amused smirk.

  “Fun at my expense, Givara?” Enaya snapped.

  “You are a constant source of amusement for me," Givara chuckled, unconcerned with Enaya’s course demeanor.

  Farrus came over and took a seat on the grass beside Givara. He ripped off a healthy chunk from his bread loaf and began to chew loudly.

  “How’s she handling it so far?” he mumbled, through a mouth full of bread.

  “Like a silly child,” Givara said without shame.

  Enaya planted her hands on her hips and seethed at her guardian. “I am not acting like a silly child.” Farrus and Givara shared a happy grin. “There is nothing to handle, Master Farrus. Sim is free to bed any trollop that will have him. I don’t care what he does, nor who he does it with.” She tried to straighten up and portray dignity. “I am a lady. I simply prefer they grope each other in private rather than out here for all of us to see.”

  Farrus didn’t say anything. He simply chuckled silently with Givara as they stared behind Enaya.

  Suddenly realizing that she had practically shouted at Farrus and Givara, Enaya turned around in suspended mortification to see if she had an unwanted audience. Sim and Nehrea, as well as Quinn and the three Dahara, stared at her in horrified silence.

  Enaya could feel her face flushing. A sweat broke out across her brow. Her hands and feet began to feel numb. Holding onto sliding threads of reality, she forced away the sudden onslaught of tunnel vision and willed herself to remain alert. Fighting a fit of nausea, she reflexively turned away from everyone and began urgently walking away.

  Her conscious self felt as though it were hovering just a few steps behind, watching her breakdown like a spectator.

  Unable to master the torrent of dammed up emotions, Enaya broke into tears, desperately trying to, at the very least, sob silently.

  When she thought she was far enough away from everyone, she sank to her knees in the grass, and let it all out. Out came the stress of her burden of leadership. Out came the irrational feelings of betrayal she felt toward Sim. She pushed away her guilt over the presumed fate of her family and banished her paralyzing feelings of self-doubt.

  For a time she leaned forward, breathing heavily, exhausted, and yet relieved. Her inner voice felt recharged. Her shoulders felt lighter, as well. She stood up and brushed away the dirt and grass that stained the knees of her dress.

  When she turned to face the group, Sim stood there, looking at her with a worried expression.

  “Are you alright, Enaya?” he asked.

  “No, Sim,” she answered, with a consigned sigh, “but I will be.”

  Sim shook his head as if he didn’t understand. “Is this because of me?”

  Enaya stared into his striking green eyes. They held so many promises of sincerity and compassion. A quick cry burst from her lips, and she fought back another upsurge of tears. She covered her mouth and took a few deep breaths until she felt composed.

  “No Sim, it’s because of me,” she told him earnestly. “When I saw you with Nehrea…I just overreacted and I’m sorry.”

  Sim quirked an eyebrow, almost smugly. “Look, I told you how I felt, and you were clear with me about how you felt.”

  The tears dried up as his subtle arrogance lit a fire in her belly. “So I did,” she growled.

  Sim must have realized that he was overstepping himself because he quickly changed tones to something more apologetic.

  “But…I can understand that seeing me with Nehrea was unexpected, and I’m sorry I didn’t say something to you first. Can we please just try to get along? For the group?”

  She clenched her fist and bit down an urge to slap him sharply across the face. Instead, her natural instincts for leadership told her to accept his truce for the good of everyone else. Enaya didn’t like it, but she would have to demonstrate some tolerance.

  “Fine,” she said. “But would you, at the very least, stop putting yourself on display for all of us. Some of us don’t need a constant visual reminder of your affection for one another.”

  “It was disrespectful, and I apologize,” Sim conceded with flushing cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she told him and then went to rejoin Farrus and Givara.

  They watched her silently as she sat down and began to pick at her own bread loaf.

  “Would you happen to know how much farther we have left, Quinn?” Sim asked.

  Quinn stood and took a long scan of the horizon. After a short deliberation, he shrugged obliviously. “I’ve never been around here before. Can you ask them how far we are from the Water Woods?”

  Sim fixed eyes with Firetail and listened as though the horse were speaking plainly. Enaya listened as carefully as she could, hoping to hear even a whisper of the silent conversation, but heard nothing.

  “Firetail thinks we have three more hours to the end of the river,” Sim said.

  “Then I would suspect we have another four hours, if they can keep that pace,” Quinn answered.

  Everyone groaned simultaneously. Four more hours riding was going to be grueling. Already, Enaya felt a sharp pain in her lower back and soreness in every limb. Fantasies of that wonderful healing bath she had taken back in Carleton, at Mistress Hisha’s inn, suddenly leapt up in her mind. What she would have given to feel that way again.

  “The Dahara are ready to continue,” Nehrea announced.

  Enaya quickly devoured what was left of her bread and joined Givara on Fallastar’s back. As before, they rode several paces behind Firetail, with Shearwind bringing up the rear. For a time, they followed the river, galloping close to the water’s edge. Soon they had to set a course deeper inland as the amount of trees became increasingly more overgrown around the river. The Dahara found an overgrown road, an old farmer’s trail, and took advantage of the smoother, more predictable surface to push the pace.

  Enaya watched the rolling farmland fly past with dizzying speed. On any other horse riding bareback, she would likely have fallen off at such a sustained gallop, but the Dahara ran with such a graceful precision that her balance on Fallastar’s back was never in question. The ride was steady though sitting bow legged took its toll on her lower back. She longed to feel the ground beneath her feet once again.

  “What do you know of the Collora?” she asked Givara.

  “I have come across a few,” her guardian answered, calling out loudly to augment the rushing wind and the thundering chatter of galloping hooves. “In times long past, the Collora was esteemed as highly as kings and queens. Their ability to wield the trivarial power was surpassed only by the Harvens.”

  “But Nehrea isn’t a trival,” Enaya pointed out.

  “I don’t believe it matters. The ritual must give them their power. If Nehrea couldn’t use the power before, I believe she can now.”

  “Why her? Can’t there be someone else out there, somewhere?”

  “She is the one, Enaya. Though my knowledge is limited, I do know this much: there can only be one. It’s her spirit. Once a Collora passes, the search for a successor begins with every infant born that day. Nehrea is the reincarnated soul of every Collora who came before her. Only the Dahara can recognize her spirit. If she has been chosen, then she is the one -- the only one.”

  “What about the Dahara?” Enaya asked. “I always thought they were a legend. What do you know of them?”

  “On
ly the Collora knows them truly. In past lives, I was blessed to have stood in their presence. Never have I ridden one. I feel almost as if I’m doing something criminal. My respect for these horses is unmatched by any being I have ever encountered. They are as pure as light itself. Infallible. This is truly a blessing I will never forget.”

  “I feel the same way,” Enaya admitted.

  “The Dahara are the very essence of light. They are a living symbol of the Creator’s mark on the world,” Givara spoke with a breathless reverence.

  “Do you think this is all just a simple coincidence?” Enaya asked.

  Givara considered the question in silence for a moment.

  “There are no coincidences,” Givara answered. “Not anymore, at least.”

  “What does that mean?” Enaya was confused.

  “It's hard to explain,” Givara sighed. “When I was a queen, I believed that man was free of fate’s entanglements. But it was the war that brought the Creator down from the heavens to feel the stain of darkness that had infested her creation.’

  “Farrus told you a nice tale of the Creator and her sister, the dark God Orissa, but the truth is that no-one knows what really happened. We are mortals, unable to grasp the machinations of our God. I believe that the heavens are in constant battle, contending for the fate of every creation -- our world, and perhaps others as well. I can feel it in my purgatory, like a rope pulled back and forth for all eternity. Light and dark forever vying for the upper hand. I think that when the Creator discovered the extent of the darkness in our world, she began a course of action to free us from the darkness altogether. To fulfill such a plan would span tens of thousands of years, but such a length of time, though impossibly long to mortals, would seem hardly long at all to a God.

  “Consider this…in the aftermath of her intervention in my war, both the Harvens and the Dahara were created. Two races of pure earth blood, separate from all other species of mortal flesh. Both races, perfect symbols of strength and humility. The Harvens brought order to society, and the Dahara inspired peace. For a time, it seemed that light had conquered the darkness. Then came the Daikhir to terrorize and nearly exterminate the Dahara. The Creator gave them the Collora to fight the Daikhir and once again light prevailed. Next came Desirmor, who all but destroyed the Harvens. His evil was so great and far reaching that even the Dahara went into hiding, forgotten by the world.