Book of Remembrance: The Forgotten Gods: Book One

by Tania Johansson

  Our rooms were rather plain, but thankfully free of any more roses. I was glad to see a small lockbox in the room. I put the Book and the sentinel inside, locking it up tightly. I took out a short piece of string and hung the key around my neck.

  Brant’s room was adjacent to mine and once I had settled my things, I knocked on his door. It took him a moment to answer. He opened the door and before I could say anything he said, “Let’s go out and look around town. I am not all too sure your gleeman friend gave us a good recommendation here.”

  I shrugged. “I got the same feeling.”

  We went back to the busy market. We meandered around for a while, taking in the sights and sounds and in some cases, strange smells, but finally ended up stopping at a tavern. I ordered wine and a glass of mead for Brant. We took a table outside.

  Something that had been nagging at me finally came spilling out. “Why are you here, Brant?” His eyes widened a bit at the question and his mouth went into a tight line.

  He was quiet for long enough that I thought he was not going to answer when he replied. “We have never been friends. I disdained the way you were brought into our society and raised as if you were one of us. They gave you our sacred secrets and what made it all worse, was that you were the best they had seen…ever, I think. It infuriated… infuriates me that you are better than I am. You are an intruder and I am Tretakai!” His hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself. “For a long time I only saw that. I could not look past it to see anything else and to be honest I do not know if I ever will look past it completely.”

  It shocked me to hear how deep seated his feelings toward me were, but he had not answered my question. I waited, trying to keep my expression blank.

  Finally, after another long silence, he said, “I am a descendant of a general in Rakadamon’s army. A general who betrayed everything and everyone to turn to the dark side. The Cha thinks history may repeat itself.” His voice dropped at the end and I had to lean in to hear. He shook his head miserably. “They told me I had to come with you. I argued until I was hoarse, until they said that if I truly meant to stand against Rakadamon, I would do whatever I could to ensure that I did not turn against my people.” He looked up at me, a fierce glint in his eyes. “I am Tretakai and I would not betray that.” More softly, he added, “No matter what the Cha may have seen.” I sat chilled.

  So, I have a potentially deadly spider in my hair and I don’t know if he will decide to bite. “I don’t see how coming along and spending this time with me, someone you strongly dislike, will ensure that you do not turn towards the dark side. What is the logic behind that?”

  He looked at me with exasperation etched on his face. “Do not ask me. That is what my argument was, but they would have none of it. I guess only time will tell.” And what will time show us Brant? You betraying not only me, but also the whole of mankind? I shivered at the thought.

  His eyebrows climbed his forehead. “So that is me…now, what are you doing here?”

  I knew this was coming, but after what he had just revealed to me, I was more distrustful of him than ever before. “The Cha told me there is someone here that I must find.”

  When I stopped there, he held up a hand in annoyance. “That cannot be all. Who is this person and what do you do once you find them?”

  Here things were truly vague with my plan so I shrugged and said honestly. “I don’t really know; on both counts. The Cha said that I would have to find him, he did not say how. As to what I am supposed to do with this person…” I shrugged. “I am not sure. I think that he must follow me. In addition, before you ask, I do not know where he must follow me. I suppose I must puzzle this out as I go along. The Cha was vague, at best, with his instructions.”

  After considering this for a moment, he nodded to himself. He looked at me resolutely. “Where do we start looking?”

  CHAPTER 7 – Whip Warrior

  Eventually we returned to the Rose inn for supper. This time when we walked in, the buzz of conversation filled the common room. We sat down at the table in the far corner. There was a rose in a slim vase in the middle of the table and the back of the chairs were carved into three roses with their stems intertwined. For some reason, all these roses made my stomach turn. Perhaps just because they made me think of the innkeeper.

  We had not been sitting for long when a serving girl came over. She wore a smile, but it was clearly forced and it did not come close to her eyes. Her manner was in stark contrast to the usual serving girls who were always talkative and friendly. I supposed they hoped that you would give them a tip. This girl though, stopped a foot away from our table and with downcast eyes bobbed a small curtsy. “Good evening sirs. What can I get for you?”

  I gave her a reassuring smile, although I do not think she even saw it. “Can we have two ales please and what is for dinner tonight?”

  She blushed furiously and nervously her eyes flickered up to us and then down again. “I do apologise, I should have told you that already. Do forgive me. We have roasted pork and vegetables.”

  I nodded still smiling. “No need for the apology. We’ll have the dinner as well then please.” She bobbed another quick curtsy, spun on her heels and dashed away.

  Brant shook his head. “Strange people. It seems that you would try to be friends with every single person that comes across your way.”

  I frowned at the comment, but let it by. “Do you not think it odd that she seems so nervous? And not only her, the porter this afternoon as well. It seems very peculiar to me.”

  He looked at me as if deciding whether I was serious. “To be frank, I had not noticed anything unusual with the porter, but even if I had, I would not concern myself over it. Perhaps they have only recently started in this line of work.”

  He laughed scornfully. “You saw the way Jerea was when she started at the Five Bells back home. She was breaking things here, there and everywhere.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I even heard she spilt a whole dish of hot soup over old man Krips.”

  I grimaced at his delight in these things. Poor Jerea. He may have a point though. Something just did not feel right here. Doubtfully I said, “I suppose that could be all there is to it.”

  Soon after, the serving girl came back out with our ales and steaming plates filled with food followed. She did not say a word and kept her eyes on the dishes she was serving. The smell made my mouth water and my stomach grumble. I had not realised how hungry I was. I wolfed down the plate and called her over to ask for another. I looked around the room. Brant followed my eyes. “What is it that you keep looking for?”

  I shrugged. “Nassarit had said he would come and have a drink with us tonight.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Surely you are not that short on money that you are relying on a gleeman to come and buy you a drink.”

  I looked at him in annoyance. “I enjoyed his company is all.”

  He shook his head. “I would rather not have that weasel here. I did not like that man. He seemed too self-important.” Exasperated, I scowled at him. This coming from the most arrogant man I knew, except perhaps, the Kichwa himself.

  The next morning we still had no real idea of where to start looking. The Cha had talked of rumours about him so we decided it might be easiest to chase the rumours as opposed to the man.

  We started visiting taverns, inn common rooms and walking through the market listening to conversations rather than paying any attention to the goods on display. A few days later and we had learnt a lot. Unfortunately, nothing that was of any use.

  We adopted a more proactive approach. We were in the third tavern of the day and had not had any luck so far. We sat in the middle of the stuffy room and listened to the conversations around us until we heard two men talking loudly in voices gruff with alcohol. We were about to join their table when we heard a loud commotion going on outside. Men were shouting in angry voices and something shattered.

  Curiosity drew us outside where a large crowd had alread
y gathered. We pushed to the front and in the middle of it all, were two men. A large man stood with a menacing glint in his eye. He had a sword in his hand, holding it up threateningly with the sun glinting of the blade. He took a step closer to the other man who was much smaller and dressed like a farmer, in a coarse knee-length coat. He looked to be in his early twenties and his face was what I thought most women would find attractive with an angular jaw and large eyes. At first glance, he looked fearful, taking a step back each time the other advanced. His face was blank though and his eyes looked calm.

  As we watched, I became aware of heat starting to spread across my chest. Whenever I looked at the farmer, the heat started pulsating. The farmer was backing off from the burly man who started laughing a deep bellowing laugh. “Look, he is all talk with nothing behind it!”

  The farmer reached under his coat and pulled out two glistening black whips. The burly man stopped laughing, but he still had a mocking smile over his fat lips. “What? Are you going to herd me like your flock of sheep?” He was pointing the tip of his sword at the other’s chest.

  A cold smile spread slowly across the farmer’s face. He flicked his wrist and quicker than the eye could follow, the whip curled around the burly man’s sword and ripped it from his hands. His mouth dropped open as he stared dumbly at his empty hand. Before he could move, the farmer had struck again, striping the burly man across his backside. He yelped in both surprise and pain. The farmer chuckled cheerily, holding his whips ready.

  The big man growled and stormed, his teeth showing in a snarl. The farmer almost causally flicked again, this time the whip neatly wrapped the other man’s feet together, and with a bellow, he fell flat on his face. The farmer circled him slowly and each time he tried to get up, he would tug with surprising strength at the whip holding the big man’s feet, pulling him flat against the ground again and eliciting a groan from him. The farmer was now the one wearing the mocking smile.

  With a light snapping noise, he hit the burly man on the back with his other whip making him yelp. “That is for the sheep I know you stole,” he hit him again, “and that is for lying about it. Now, will you remember this time that stealing is wrong?” He said this almost playfully, but with a dangerous undertone.

  The burly man twisted so he could look at his captor and he spat towards him. The farmer held up a finger and wriggled it slowly from side to side. “That is not the correct answer.” With another lightning quick flick of his wrist and another snapping noise the burly man squirmed on the ground, moaning.

  His shirt was in tatters and blood bloomed across his back. The farmer was frowning. “Would you like to think carefully over your answer this time and then try again?”

  The man on the ground was breathing heavily by this time, sweat pouring down his face. Between moans, he managed to croak out, “Yes, I will remember now that stealing is wrong.”

  The farmer gave a nod. “Very good. Now, you may undo your legs and we can be on our way.” He rolled onto his side and with another few groans managed to sit up. He undid his bonds and hurriedly shuffled away before getting to his feet and running off without another backward glance.

  I only realised then that I was gripping my shirt, sweat running down my face and chest. Brant looked at me with a mix of concern and suspicion. “What is wrong with you?”

  I took a deep breath. It felt as though I was leaning head first into a furnace. I furtively glanced down the front of my shirt, but it looked normal. I half expected it to be glowing. Brant was still looking at me strangely with his eyebrows raised. I shook my head. “He is the one we are looking for.”

  His face was incredulous. “How could you possibly know that? Just because he was swinging those whips with some skill, does not mean that he is the one.” I gave my head a small shake. “I know.”

  The crowd dispersed, people talking in a low murmur. I thought this curious. This farmer had clearly not only caught a thief, but also made him pay for it. They should have been cheering him along. Instead, I saw a number of them glancing sideways at him. What was that in their eyes? Fear, anger, both? The farmer seemed not to notice or perhaps he did not care. He brushed himself off and stalked away. We quickly followed.

  We caught up with him as he sat down in the Blue Moon Tavern. When I looked across the room at him, my chest caught aflame again, or so it felt. Gripping my shirt, I walked up to his table with Brant following close behind. “May we join you?”

  His eyes looked weary when he glanced up. “I am not looking for any more trouble.”

  I thought I caught a slight accent. Foreign. That explains the lack of support from the crowd then. “We are not looking to make trouble with you. We just want to talk.”

  He shrugged. We sat down and promptly, a serving girl came to take our order for two glasses of mead. Abruptly, I realised the heat in my chest had stopped as quickly as it had started. If I had needed any more confirmation that we had found the right person, that was it. A moment later, the serving girl was back with our mead.

  Before I said anything, he spoke. “You have been looking for me.” It was a statement not a question.

  I nodded. “How did you know?” He laughed throatily. “You cannot believe that you have been stealthy in your search for me. Asking anyone and everyone. It soon came round to me that two men have been asking of rumours of someone different. Even if they did not know about…I am foreign and so, different in all their eyes.” I was sure that he was about to say something else, but there will be time enough for questions without scaring him away now.

  Brant suddenly spoke, “That was quite a performance you put on back there.”

  The farmer snorted. “Bearin has needed putting in his place for some time. The oaf thinks that he can bully anyone as he wants.” He shook his head, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

  “I don’t think I have seen anyone use whips quite like you did today. Where did you learn that?” Brant asked.

  He took a few moments before answering, his eyes far away. “My people take pride in this skill. We are taught it from a very young age, but those were just whips I use for the sheep, not battle whips.” Battle whips? The ones he had used were enough to reduce that man to a crawling sniffling ant. I wondered what he could do with his ‘battle whips.’

  I shook my head. “How rude of us. We invite ourselves to your table without so much as an introduction. I am Kadin Aken and this is Brant Almeer. We have travelled here from Predaki.”

  He nodded as I said each name. “I am Seran.” I noted that he did not give a last name or say where he was from. He turned his green eyes on me. “I know you have been looking for me. I do not know why.”

  It struck me that I had not given much thought to exactly what I should say to him. I tried to buy myself some time by turning the question back on him. “I have followed some rumours here. You do not seem happy here, why do you not return to your own people?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. He was wringing his hands together. Suddenly anger blossomed on his face. “You come here, you sit with me, you ask me all these questions, but you do not reveal much. I do not think I want to talk to you any longer.” He started rising.

  I reached out and took hold of his arm. “I believe you are different.” His face went tight and he tried to pull his arm from my hand. Desperately I tightened my grip. “I believe you are different, like me. I have been called to a destiny that I have not chosen. One that I have no idea how I am meant to fulfil. I believe you are a part of that destiny.” His face was still tight and his mouth pulled into a thin line, but he sat down again.

  “You seem even more crazy than most, so I will stay because I am curious. Now, you tell me your story and I will consider telling you mine.”

  I smiled with relief, but his face remained stony. I told him everything. I started with my parents and my birth, my adoption into the Tretakai society. I told him of sneaking off to learn the Navitas. This he found very interesting and asked many questions when he thought I did
not explain it properly, listening with rapt attention. I told him of my Hunt and of the Seeking. I did however, leave out Markai, but I thought the time for disclosing this secret was coming close.

  By the time I had finished my mouth was dry and I drained my glass before ordering another. He sat mulling over my story for some time. Asking for more details a few times. Finally, he sat up.

  “One thing that still bothers me.” He paused before continuing. “You arrived here with the trader. How do you know this man?”

  It was the last thing I expected and it caught me off guard. I took me a moment to realise who he meant. I shook my head. “You mean Nassarit? He is a gleeman, not a trader. We came across him and his family about a day’s travel outside Medirea. His wagon had a broken wheel and we helped him fix it. We travelled the rest of the way in.”

  Brant broke his silence to put in, “You helped him fix the wheel. I never liked him.”

  Seran’s eyes flickered to Brant. He gave a small nod. His mouth pulled down at the corners with distaste. “You have good instincts not to like this man. He is most definitively not a gleeman. He is a trader and a criminal in my eyes.”

  I was still confused. “What do you mean a criminal?”

  He shook his head. “He is a trader yes, but not only of goods. He claims they are all street children. Homeless, starving urchins that he rescues and finds jobs and homes for.” He snorted with disdain.

  I frowned and shook my head. “He was only travelling with his wife and daughter.” He laughed harshly. “That scum has no daughter, thank the Highness. The girl you saw must have been some of his ‘goods’.” He put a twist on the word making it sound a curse.

  I shook my head dumbly. All those tales of travelling as a gleeman. Could they really all have been lies? Cold anger started building up inside me. I hate few things more than being lied to. No wonder the filth did not show his face that first night or any night since. I grimaced wondering where Mai, if that was even her name, were.