Chapter 8
Braxton woke to the sound of rain splattering against the window. He got up, dressed quickly, and tidied up his bed, as Gavin had obviously done before leaving sometime earlier. Wandering into the front room of Zambini’s cottage, he found it deserted. The fire was burnt out and the pale light of a cloud-filled morning filtered in through the windows.
Brennah emerged from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of steaming oats and a plate of warm muffins. “I thought you could use a hot breakfast,” she said kindly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thanks.” He seated himself at the table. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I must have overslept. When did the others leave?”
“Not to worry, dear. The men left at first light, and your young friend departed shortly afterward. Said he was going to look for supplies, so I don’t expect you’ll see him anytime soon.”
Brennah sat opposite Brax, enjoying a muffin as he consumed the oats. Kudu and Bendwhalie came running in and started wrestling on the floor. Brax smiled at them, remembering how he and Penton used to do the same when they were young.
“Your boys never stop moving, do they?”
“They’re a handful, all right.” She watched fondly as her two children rolled around on the large woolen rug in front of the fireplace. “You might enjoy a hot bath in the inn,” Brennah suggested, looking up at Braxton as she cleared his plate and headed back to the kitchen. “Zambini just refilled it with clean water this morning, and I believe the fire’s still hot.”
“That sounds wonderful. Where is it?”
“Oh, just go in through the back door. It’s on your left. You can’t miss it.”
A half hour later, Braxton relaxed in the hot, soothing waters of the bath. The room was about twice the size of the bedroom he and Gavin shared, with a stone floor tilting gradually toward an inlaid drain opposite the door. The large four-foot-deep barrel in which he soaked could easily have seated a half-dozen people. Resting atop curved metal legs, it was raised above the hot coals of a recessed fire pit.
Braxton felt his muscles relax and the tension in his arms and shoulders evaporate. The steam clouding the room filled his lungs, creating a warm, drowsy sensation despite his recent sleep. He was just standing to reach for the soap from a nearby cupboard when the door opened, and in walked the barmaid Kalendra, a pile of fresh towels in her arms. For a moment they both froze, looking at each other. The girl’s eyes dropped down his body, and Braxton scrambled to grab the remaining towel from the cupboard and wrap it around his waist.
Kalendra, an attractive girl of about Penton’s age with shoulder-length brown hair and dark green eyes, smiled as he desperately tried to cover himself.
“I thought you might need these,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “But I see you’re . . . pretty well-stocked already.” Her eyes ran over him, and a bemused smile crossed her face. Then a slightly inquisitive frown creased her brow, and Braxton realized she was staring at his chest. He looked down at the Chosen Cross. His heart dropped, remembering Ruskin’s warning. Desperately trying to find something to cover the mark, but seeing his clothes out of reach, he grabbed the bottom end of the towel that had been floating in the water and pulled it up. Realizing then that he was exposing himself, he dropped down quickly, making a loud splash and spilling water onto the floor.
Kalendra stifled a laugh, walked over to the cupboard and put the towels on the shelf. She returned to the doorway and stopped to look back at him. “See you later,” she said with a wink, then quietly closed the door behind her.
Braxton chided himself for being so careless. He climbed out of the tub and dressed quickly, dampening his clothes with his still-wet body. Hurrying back to the cottage, he avoided Brennah and spent most of the day in his room, pacing back and forth, trying to determine what to do. Maybe Kalendra hadn’t recognized the rings. Perhaps she thought them to be burns in his skin, or the result of an accident, or some strange birthmark. But ultimately he kept coming back to the same conclusion. What if she recognized them for what they were? What if she understood?
Frustrated, he forced himself outside and walked around the courtyard. He visited the horses, brushed them down, and added bedding to their stalls. Finally, accepting that what had happened couldn’t be undone, he refilled Obsidian and Cinnamon’s haynets and returned to his room.
Gavin was there, tired from his long day. “The Min attack was much more widespread than we thought,” he said when Brax entered. “Every town with a Gate as far down as Dynekee was hit, and all at the same time too. Whoever was behind this was certainly well-organized. The Empire’s on full alert now, and the king’s got patrols out searching every farm, glen, and nook for the Mins.”
“That’s going to make it hard for us to get to Almon-Sen.” Brax dropped down on his bed, despondent.
“No word yet on whether the Mins hit the elves,” Gavin went on. “Apparently there’s been no communication with them since the Gates closed, but it may be too early to tell, now that all messengers are by horseback.”
Brax nodded, his hopes lifting a bit. With luck, maybe they could still make it to Arbor Loren in time. He kicked off his boots and lay down, thinking about the journey ahead. They still needed to get to the elven forest, gain passage to Arbor Glen, and find this Bendarren, all in the same time it had taken them just to reach Falderon.
A wave of panic washed over him as he worried they weren’t going to make it. Clutching at his mom’s pendant, he shut his eyes tightly.
I am with her, child. Make the journey.
Braxton jumped at Serene’s voice, dispelling his dark thoughts. Hearing her in his mind brought an immense peace, but knowing she was helping his mom provided an even greater comfort.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
“What?” Gavin looked up from the supplies spread out on the floor.
“Nothing.” Brax wiped his face and got up. “Let’s get something to eat.”
They returned to the tavern and found a table near the fireplace to enjoy their supper. Kalendra came over as soon as she saw them, smiling at Brax.
“Nice to see you again,” she said, looking him up and down with a sly wink. Gavin eyed them suspiciously but didn’t say anything. He ordered the evening meal and a couple of ales.
“What was all that about?” he asked once she’d left.
“Nothing.” Brax glanced about, but then seeing his friend staring at him, admitted to his encounter with the barmaid. Gavin roared with laughter at the embarrassing tale, and Braxton felt himself flush.
“Seriously, though, Brax, you need to be more careful. You don’t want to end up in Amberdeen.”
“I know, I know. I just got careless. It was all so unexpected. I’m not used to anyone paying me attention. It won’t happen again, I can assure you.”
They were finishing their meal a half hour later when Zambini strode over.
“Hello, my friends,” he said with a broad smile. “How’d you enjoy the evening’s fare?”
“Excellent as before.” Brax cleaned his plate with the last of their bread, and Gavin nodded, his mouth full.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Brax finished chewing. “How do you know Ruskin so well?”
“Oh, we’ve known each other a long time,” Zambini replied, avoiding the question.
“How’d you meet?” Gavin pressed.
Zambini’s smile faded. He looked at them for a moment then scanned the room. “It was on a merchant’s ship off the southern coast of Andorah,” he said, sitting down and pouring himself a drink. “I was no older than you are now.” He nodded at Brax. “Understand, my friends, that I was sold by the Hunters when I was very young, and life as a ship’s slave was all I knew. It was how I thought life was supposed to be—at least until I met our dwarf friend.
“The slavers had just taken on a new load of captives from Kharnus and were several days south of the city when this frenzied little man, and two others like him, appeared on deck. He looked l
ike an escaped slave himself, all in rags with a dirt-smeared face and long hair and beard that were knotted and unkempt. They’d snuck aboard in port, hiding themselves without food or water for three days in the lower hull. How they survived, I still do not know.”
Zambini shook his head. “They attacked the slavers and their shipmates with a ferocity I’d never seen before nor since. Three of them taking on seventeen hardened sailors, each warriors in their own right. Men whom I’d seen fight before. But this one little man—the one the others called the Badger—fought relentlessly. Like a maddened dog!” Their host grinned. “It was the first time I’d ever seen a dwarf in battle, and I was shocked at the ferocity with which he attacked those men. When they’d finished, none of the slavers were alive. But one of Ruskin’s companions had been killed too. The dead sailors they simply tossed overboard, but their fallen comrade they carefully wrapped in the captain’s finest sheets and buried him at sea.
“I had fought against the dwarves myself, thinking them to be just another band of pirates raiding our ship’s supplies. But Ruskin, my friends, hit me on the head with the side of his hand as if swatting a gnat on the wall, and I dropped to the deck unawares. When I awoke, he and his companion had freed all the slaves, and Ruskin was questioning them thoroughly.
“Later I learned he’d been a scout from the Dragon’s Spine. He’d led a party of a dozen young dwarves on their first expedition across the Valley of Wind, from Dûrak-Thûhn to Lake Shore. They were unfortunate to have encountered a large caravan of Hunters who, despite losing many men to this Badger, had captured the young ones and taken them as slaves to be sold in Kharnus, leaving Ruskin for dead. He tracked them all the way to the coastal city. And from what I understood, he single-handedly sought out and killed every one of those Hunters. Unfortunately, he discovered that the younger dwarves had already been sold to numerous merchant slave ships like mine.”
Zambini stopped and took a drink from his cup, then refilled it slowly. Gavin and Braxton waited impatiently, eager for him to continue.
“Well, my friends, for the next fourteen months, Ruskin sailed our ship, the Sea Nymph, all around the Endless Sea and to the Great Ocean, searching for the young ones he’d lost. The slaves he rescued became his crew, and I became first mate. He treated me better than anyone had before, even giving me a room and some possessions to call my own. And he paid me, and the others, with the money we took from the coffers of the ships we sank, keeping none for himself. Ruskin wasn’t there for riches but relentlessly searched for every young dwarf he’d lost. He left a trail of burning ships and dead bodies in his wake. All were saved . . . except one. A dwarf boy, the youngest of their original group, died of scurvy, a terrible and painful death.”
Zambini shook his head, pausing for a moment. “This one he lost, the one he always referred to as Pup, was Ruskin’s only son.” He stopped to let the weight of his words sink in, taking another drink.
“Losing him was a terrible blow to our dwarven friend, and Ruskin howled with grief. He almost tore the ship apart with his bare hands.” Their host smiled wryly, remembering the scene. “Eventually we sailed to Dynekee, where he burned the Sea Nymph, the only home I’d ever known, and set us free upon the land. Me he took with him, along with the dwarves he’d rescued, and brought us here to Falderon. He left me in the care of a human family he knew, while he returned his brethren to the Spine. Then he disappeared for many years. Eventually he started showing up again to check in on me. I think in his mind he adopted me as a replacement for the son he’d lost. For his Pup.”
Their host looked around proudly. “Years later, I opened this inn. I wanted to share the profits with Ruskin, but he wouldn’t have it. Occasionally now he stops by, and I always help him in whatever way I can. I owe him my life, my friends.” Zambini looked serious for the first time. “Everything I have, all that I’ve gained, is thanks to that Badger. You are fortunate to have him with you.”
Chapter 9
The following morning Brax paced around their room, waiting for Gavin to get dressed. He worried about the number of days that had passed and whether they’d make it to the elves in time, despite Serene’s reassurance that she was helping his mom.
They’d gone to bed late the night before, talking about Ruskin’s past and what it must have been like to have lost his only son. Brax could hear the agony in his friend’s voice when Gavin compared it to losing his mother—lying there in the darkness of their little room—and hoped he wouldn’t have to share in that pain.
They had just started breakfast with Brennah and her boys when Ruskin returned, thumping in heavily from the misty courtyard. Standing in the doorway, he shook the rain off his matted hair and long beard, sending flicks of water flying in every direction. Zambini was with him, and they joined the others at the table as Brennah hurried off into the kitchen to fetch something for the dwarf to eat.
“The town’s locked up tight,” Ruskin reported, draining a morning tankard of Zambini’s ale and talking now through a mouthful of sausages. “I was able to get myself outside the gate to take a look ’round, but there’s no way the three of us slip by on horseback, or on foot for that matter.”
“We have to,” Brax said, anxious to continue their journey. “I need to get to Arbor Loren. I can’t wait for a patrol to arrive.”
“We won’t make it a hundred yards.” Ruskin took another drink. “There are guards everywhere and groups of bandits raiding the farms beyond, fighting among themselves over pillaging the better homes. Worse yet, those damn Hunters are about, taking advantage of unfortunate folk. I hate those slavers.” He shook his head, muttering something into his beard.
“You got out.” Brax stared at the dwarf, annoyed that he was unwilling to try.
Ruskin leaned closer. “That’s because dwarves have an affinity with the mountains and know how to disappear among ’em. You, lad, will stand out.”
“I don’t care. I have to try.”
“And get caught.” Ruskin shook his head. “A lot of good that’ll do your mom.”
“He’s right, Brax.” Gavin put a hand on his shoulder. “We should wait for a patrol.”
“I don’t have time to wait.” Brax stood up, knocking over his chair. “My mom is dying!”
Ruskin looked at him. “You can’t help her if you’re in prison or in Amberdeen.”
Zambini frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Brax paced the room, weighing up his chances of getting past the guards, the bandits, and the Hunters. Even with Serene’s help, he knew he’d never make it alone. Reluctantly, he looked back at the dwarf and nodded.
Ruskin glanced at Zambini. “See if you can find out when the next patrol’s coming. I’m off to bed.” He got up and disappeared into Brax’s room. A moment later, they could hear him snoring.
Brennah walked over and quietly shut the door before returning to clear the table. Zambini finished the rest of his drink, kissed his wife, and headed back to the inn.
Seeing the rain had stopped, Gavin suggested they take advantage of the clearing weather to find some additional supplies. Brax knew his friend was trying to help by distracting him. He took a deep breath and agreed.
He found it helpful to be outside, wandering among the many local stores and numerous makeshift bazaars that filled the streets and plazas of the crowded city. The cool air cleared his mind and calmed his nerves, helping him to relax. Bear followed behind them, weaving his way between villagers and occasionally startling them as he brushed up against their legs.
It was late afternoon when they returned, depositing their few purchases at the cottage before heading to the inn for something to eat. Gavin sent Bear to the stables, and the elkhound happily ambled off to find his favorite napping place on the hay in Cinnamon’s stall.
As nightfall approached, the rain started up again and Ruskin entered the rear of the tavern.
“Zambini tells me a patrol’s expected tomorrow,” he said, passing by Brax carrying a heavy crat
e up from the cellar, and not bothering to stop. “I’m going for a drink.”
“That’s great news!” Brax’s spirits lifted at the thought of finally being able to leave. He put down the load they’d been helping Zambini move for the past few hours and followed the dwarf to the common room, calling for Gavin to join them.
Finding a table near the entrance, they sat talking about the patrol’s expected arrival. The main hall of Zambini’s was overflowing with visitors seeking an evening meal or liquid relief from their misfortunes brought on by the Min attack, aggravated further now by the arrival of the late-spring rains. Braxton’s muscles hurt from the strenuous work he’d done. He rubbed his shoulders, stopping to enjoy a small mug of trill—a local mixture of wild berries, cream, and locally brewed ale.
Kalendra brought their dinner, and Brax hungrily consumed the meal, listening to Ruskin and Gavin discussing their travel plans, when Zambini came over.
“Good evening, my friends,” he said loudly. “How’s the supper tonight?”
“Suitable,” Ruskin grunted, indicating for him to sit.
Braxton slid over to make room, and Zambini sat beside him, pouring himself a drink. He took a long swallow, surveying their surroundings, then added quietly, “If my people are correct—”
“You mean your spies,” Ruskin corrected.
Zambini grinned. “The patrol should arrive by midday tomorrow. They’re bringing much-needed supplies to Falderon, along with a group of travelers from Amberdeen and the neighboring farmlands—those caught away from their homes during these unfortunate attacks.”
“How long will they rest before going south?” Ruskin pressed, his mouth full.
“No more than a single night; they should depart the following morning. But my friends, you’ll need to gain permission from the patrol’s captain to join them, as many will want to go. Priority will be given to those citizens stranded away from their homes and to merchants transporting food and drink. Travelers will be the least welcome.”
Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates Page 6
