The two of them crossed the rest of the bridge and headed back up toward the gate and, after passing through the void of the gateway, there was a relief upon both of them as they made it outside. The road stretched out ahead of them, taking them past the way of the bridge and back east.
"I apologize for earlier when I struck you," Garoa said to him. “I let my emotions get to me.”
“It is no matter, friend. I do not hold such happenings against you. I will stay with you until we find what we must. I hope we find her where you say she is. Where do we go?”
“North, near the border of Taria.”
Sviska thought of how the entire ordeal of the Estate’s new winemaker began in the northern region of Taria. If they stated to the far south, it would be well, but he feared further northern regions.
"What is it you actually did before coming to Elinathrond?" Garoa asked.
"I killed."
"Who?"
"Whomever."
Garoa stared at Sviska, who stared back.
"Is that all you did?"
"Yes. For the greater part of 10 years. It is what happens when The Order takes you as a child."
"So Kasis is like you, a simple killer?"
“Assassins for The Order, but killing was our primary goal. Kasis was like me, but after our initial training, I never saw him or any of the others with us, again. I do not know what he is now. I fought him in the woods south of the city, and I can attest that there is power beyond that of an assassin that he wields now, as do all that were like me."
"How many are there like you?"
"The number is unknown. However, there are many of us. As I have said, I was used in the far western and southern regions. My final task was in central Taria, and it was from there that I then headed to Elinathrond. Such is why I am wary to go this way."
"I am sure none know of you, given you killed those that saw you."
"I did not kill the last."
Garoa looked at him again and said, "Why — not that I want you killing people for The Order — but it seems you have skill to have survived so long. I cannot see how you would have such an issue with someone in Taria. Most of the towns are no bigger than 200 people. Given, that was 20 years ago when I was there."
"I was sent to kill a woman, I thought. But upon finding my target, I hesitated. A child lay where I expected a woman. Why The Order sought her dead I was not told, but I could not do it. Her father came into the room and did what he could to protect his daughter. In the end, I was pushed from an upper level of the keep and I know he saw my face."
"Do not worry of it, friend. I will not allow some senseless fool to take you."
Garoa gave him a confident smile, but the pain of what Sviska had been still troubled him. No capture or punishment could assail what pain and guilt he felt within himself.
They followed the road as the sun began to sink further into the horizon, coming to a large brook that ran from a grove of trees that jutted out into the fields. The trees here grew sporadic, twisting up at random like gnarled crags. The road turned back toward an open area that completely avoided the woods through the Tar Valley. The road went through a barren, bushy area that was much more easily traversed than the woods.
Mountains loomed ever closer to them now. The eastern arm of the Tiken Range went this way, and the snow-dusted peaks began to glimmer with the disappearing sun behind the pinnacles.
The woods darkened as they progressed. Garoa took the letter out multiple times, referencing it before staring up into the boughs. There was a clearing in the trees and though overgrown, it was obvious a road had been here due to the very young saplings that now dotted the path.
"This was an old mining road. I can assume the mine would be toward the mountains," Sviska said, pointing south. "But there were many homes that the miners would use for shelter, as well as hunters and what not. I remember hearing of mountain men, high within the Tikens, who caused many issues for those of the valley villages. Although it was only rumor."
Garoa nodded and said, "That was after my time here, but I do not doubt it. We will stay east of the actual mountains. I believe if we head down the road here, there should be a stone marker of sort, when we reach that we will be nearly there."
They walked again, tromping over weeds and fallen logs; their sight hampered except for a few moments when the dense cloud cover would allow the moon to shine down.
Descending into a creek bed and then back up, they climbed over fallen stones and emerged through a thick bush line onto a clearer section of the road. Garoa soon spotted the marker. Several stones were stacked one atop another, with an arrow pointing toward the continuation of the road, and helpful in deep snow or, in their case, when the road is no longer one traveled.
As they walked, Sviska thought of how the chances of finding anyone Garoa sought seemed very slim. Looking when he could at Garoa, he noticed him more somber. Sviska wondered if he began to realize that truth as well.
Garoa shook his head and rubbed his hair, and then looked off the road to their left. He took out the map again and held it up to the moon.
“The cottage has to be here.”
Through a dense growth of vines and bushes, they headed into further darkness. The trees above prevented all-but a small touch of light that shined down ahead of them. The thick trees gave way to an open area of tall grass and fragrant flowers. Lightning bugs dancing at the top of the blades and scattered as they walked through.
In the center of the overgrown field, in a grove of the woods, sat a structure. It was dark, in shambles, and showed signs of fire on the cracked wood. Years of snow, ice, and rain had worn it down further, and as they stepped through what remained of a door frame, Sviska raced to grab Garoa, who collapsed to his knees.
He sobbed, and Sviska held him, unsure of what to think. Garoa stared at the shell of the very house he had seen in his trial back in Elinathrond. Only instead of a little girl calling him Daddy, and Lucia, in her beauty and all the goodness of herself, welcoming him for dinner, he found nothing. What warmness of the thought of a family he had fled his heart, and he quivered with a chill that swallowed him.
He pushed Sviska's hands from his back and curled up on the ground.
Sviska stood, looking around the structure. Fire destroyed much of the house, but what wood remained was splintered and smashed by some unknown force. He left the area that was the kitchen and went to another area where overgrown green bushes covered the frame of a bed. A small chest sat unopened and undamaged near a crumbled bit of stone. He picked it up and smashed it open with the hilt of his dagger. The lid broke off and fell to the ground. There was a book inside.
He opened the cover and noted dates and cursive writing. He immediately took it to Garoa, who moaned upon hearing his footsteps.
"And what are you doing, further breaking things?"
"I found something of interest to you."
Garoa looked up and then stood, snatching the book from him, opening it.
"It is Lucia's," he said, his eyes widening. He flipped through the pages and laughed, turning the book to Sviska.
A hand-drawn image of a baby, etched in the parchment, gazed outward from the portrait.
"I told you! It was a child! I have a child!"
Sviska raised his eyebrow and felt a sorrow within him. Be it true that he had a child or not, there was no one here now, and he began to prepare to deal with what fallout that might further come from the book.
Garoa flipped through the pages to the final page, hastily written. His hands began to sweat, and he grimaced as he read: “On this night I sit alone in the cold. I dare not risk the fire for sake of them seeing us. I will get her out, be it my death by it. I am alone. I have no one but myself, for my parents have not come, nor do I expect them to. I would have hoped we would have had my love here, but he has been lost to us. I pray he thinks of me, for I seek any hope of love this hour.”
He turned the page, but found not another written word.
He flipped through the rest of the book and found nothing but black parchment likely damaged by moisture and time. He closed the book and brought it to his lips, looking over it to Sviska.
"They could be somewhere, somewhere close. There is a village nearby . . . I remember it. We can go there, maybe we will find them."
He tucked the book into his robe and began out of the back of the house. They walked through more tall grass and further into the woods.
What Garoa termed as nearby was in fact a rocky hike far up the slope of a hill. Although there were fewer trees, the ground was treacherous. Narrowing walkways, ruined to the changing ground, went straight up, making Sviska wonder if a climb up the actual hillside, as opposed to the road, would have been simpler for them.
The moon above them, free of the burden of cloud cover, shined down, painting more ruins in its glow. Sviska was sure that was where Garoa led them. Nearing the gateway of the town, they looked at the desolation before them.
"This place was a thriving village back then," Garoa said, kicking at a fallen timber. "Now it is as rotted as the cottage."
"A lot can happen in twenty years," Sviska said.
The winds swept across the hilltop, rustling leaves from around a stone set just inside the gateway in the center of the road. Sviska went to it, brushing off a thick layer of weathering and leaves. There was a plaque of sorts, faded with time, but the inscription was still deep in the stone:
“In remembrance, The People of Tar Wunak, may their stand be remembered.”
"Garoa."
He walked over to the plaque, placed his finger on it, and read to himself.
"Let us go back to the cottage," he said and began back the way they had come.
They took the path back down into the woods and toward the grove. A storm seemed to be blowing off the bay. The trees rustled above them, as the moon, veiled by the encroaching clouds, blunted out the light.
The grove was ahead. Flashes of lightning cut through the trees, and the tall grasses of the grove around the cottage could be seen rippling back and forth. Garoa quickened his pace a bit, his feet leaping over the fallen trees and limbs tossed about by the wind.
They entered the grove with the boughs of trees dancing around wildly; Sviska was behind him when he tripped.
"Are you okay?"
Garoa pushed himself up off the ground and then turned to see what had tripped him.
A rectangular marker, black, with cruelly chiseled lettering, wrote out the words: Lucia.
Sviska emerged at his side, looking down at what Garoa's eyes were set. Reading the plaque, he watched as the Rusis fell to his knees, cupping his face in his hands, a torrent of tears likely falling from his eyes.
He stuck the ground repeatedly before letting out a neck-tensing scream that shot through the trees around them.
Sviska said nothing, for no words he could find in his mind would have done any good for his friend. Garoa grieved at the loss of his once love.
Sviska looked at the marker, noticing flowers laid upon the grave.
“Garoa, someone has been here. The flowers.”
Garoa looked, but grasping them he cried more, squeezing the petals until they crumbled to the ground.
As he continued to mourn, Sviska kept watch around them. Although the wind had begun to howl, no rain further worsened the occasion.
His nostrils suddenly caught whiff of a pungent smell. He looked toward the direction from which the wind came. Ahead in the bushes, he noticed something staring at them. He did not move or make a sound to alert it that he saw it.
It crept near the edge of the grove, pacing back and forth, walking on four legs. It appeared to be a large dog, or another animal of sorts.
He felt for his dagger, taking a step forward, setting his feet in place in case the beast attacked. However, it instead sat near the edge of the trees, simply staring back. He looked down to Garoa to point it to him, glancing down to tap him but upon looking back up, the creature had vanished.
"She is gone," shouted Garoa.
"Boys!" a voice shouted. Sviska turned to see Nupp standing behind them. "What are you doing in the middle of the woods with such a northern blow storm upon you? Let us get to a shelter! Now, now!"
Nupp went to Garoa, taking him under his arms, and said, "Come on, and let us get you somewhere safe."
Crouched down, they began north past the road to Tar Wunak and continued deeper in to a dense area of the woods. Nupp was to take care of them this night.
Chapter 11 Trouble in Tar Mena
"You boys gonna get a bit off the worn path a bit more bein' with me."
He led them to the side of the cliff face and they ascended a root-layered path that snaked around the cliff side. A large stone platform against the cliffs offered little comfort as the wind slammed against them from the north. Leaves swirled up and the bite of the frigid gusts came from over the peak of the mountain. Beneath them, the sea of trees rocked and swayed below.
Nupp felt along the rocks about halfway across the platform. In a flash of lighting, he pushed Garoa in and motioned for Sviska to follow.
From within the mountain, the storm outside seemed deadened and not so violent. Nupp picked something up in the dark. Clapping two stones birthed sparks, which he fed with dried wood to make a small fire.
"We got some light now." He said, and tossed them both something from his pack.
"Meat, from the bear. Got it just last month. Had to sneak into the lair myself with just my ax."
Sviska took a bite of the flat dry meat. It was powdery in his mouth, made better by the water served with it from a sack Nupp had on him.
Garoa laid back against a stone and turned his head away from them. Nupp kicked off his boots, which Sviska wished he had not done. The putrid odor, though not surprising, was more rancid by the fact that he swore a live plant grew out of the side of the man's boot.
"So what were y'all doin' in the woods this late and at the same time as a Northern Blow Storm? That alone should have kept you out of the woods until morning. Don't wanna add to the numbers already dead in the woods!"
He could not have known of the current state of Garoa, or the fact that his words caused further hurt to him, but Garoa ignored him. Sviska looked at his friend and could see a tear in the corner of his eye.
"Ya see the woods keep secrets well. Not even the Legions dare come here at night."
"Why not?" Sviska asked, "I have never known the Legions to intentionally avoid an area. It’s almost a challenge to them, a right to boast, even."
"You are right on that boy. They like a challenge, but ain't none like a challenge as this! Imagine, you are in the woods alone. It is dark and you think you see a dog, but it is bigger, bigger than a wolf dog, bigger than an alpha wolf even. The largest canine you've seen. Its shoulders stand at yours. Its feet got claws like razors, and its mouth is full of shiny teeth. It has stone on its back, and even if you had a large spear thrown from the mountain top, you couldn't pierce it. If there be a way to kill it, it isn't known. They are Moon Wolves. We call 'em that 'cause they only feed when the moon is new and dark. They like the dark."
Garoa thought of the trials back at Elinathrond. The description of the beast was nearly the same, and now after seeing Lucia's grave, it kindled his anger.
"They say that the woods below are infested with them. They don't like climbing up high, especially with the winds. So we are safe. But that is why no one lives in these woods. About eighteen years ago there was a horrible massacre of people in the village further north."
"We saw ruins near where you found us and the plaque."
"A good fight we had. We did our best to hold off the wolves, but not even the Legion that chose to come help us could come in time. Three times the wolves came and not one of them fell. They didn't like fire and so we could deter them, but I bent my other ax trying to pry one of 'em off this traveling man."
"Traveling man?" Garoa asked. "What man? Who was he?"
&nb
sp; Nupp scratched his nose, and then said, "I don't actually know, but I know he was looking for this girl."
"Lucia! What did he say of her?"
"Slow down there, boy. Lucia was the name of a lady who lived in the woods with her child. She was hiding, or so I reckoned. I chopped them some wood once or twice with this ax here." He motioned at the ax now held at his belt.
"They were quite friendly."
"So they were lost? Murdered in the massacre?" Garoa questioned with a tone of dreary assurance in his own assumption of the answer.
"Well no, she was killed before. We buried her near her home, but her child we took to the village. When the traveling man told me he was looking for Lucia, he asked that I find her and take care of her. I, of course, could not do so, seein' she was dead, but I took the little one in my arms and ran her out of that place before the wolves got her."
"So he or she is alive?" Garoa asked, standing to his feet.
"A little girl, yes. Not so little anymore." He stared at Garoa and then pointed his finger, "You are him!"
"Excuse me?"
"Him, that him that she talked about. Ran off with the lady into the night."
"Um?"
"Well, I ought to fix you up right now." He drew his ax out slowly. "Should slice you from your lip to the back of your head. But I won't."
Sviska's hand released Sishan and relaxed, as did Nupp's grip on his handle.
"Your reasons for leaving a pregnant lady are not gonna be good enough for my likin', but I tell you your girl is not with the most scrupulous of kind. If you want her, you can find her north of here in the capital of the Region Taria.
Sviska drew a deep breath and tapped his thumb on the hilt of his dagger. He knew that place. It was where his last task for The Order occurred, and although he wished to avoid such a place, he knew Garoa would have no care to do the same, even if it meant going alone.
"So I can find her. Do you know the house, or where she can be found?"
"It is a tavern, the only one there, but a father wouldn't like it much. I left her with good people when she was a little girl, but girls do what they wish at a certain age. Those two that raised her caught that memory sickness, sadly, and died before she was ten, I heard. After that, I went every few moons to check up on her, make she wasn't dead. The least I could do for the traveling man."
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 39
