Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1)

by Jonathan Renshaw

  Hinges screeched at them as they edged the door open. They waited. Nobody raised the alarm. Inside the dank little room the smells of waxed leather and saddle soap were almost strong enough to see by, but Aedan was no mole and he groped through the utter blackness of the room, bumbling this way and that until something poked him in the eye. Fortunately Kalry knew the room well enough to locate what she needed by feel, and soon she dumped a saddle and bridle in Aedan’s arms.

  Saddling the ponies proved to be more complicated. Aedan had to quietly upend a water pail to make up the height he lacked. He hoped Kalry wouldn’t see from the adjacent stable. Bluster, his pony, was quick to mimic the nervous manner. Aedan had to dodge stamping hooves while feeling about in the darkness for the girth strap. Finally the saddle was on, at least it felt like it was, and it looked to be facing the right way too.

  The bridle presented a new problem. Bluster was swinging his head and shaking his mane with obvious anticipation. Aedan had no idea how to bridle something that was whipping through the air like a storm-tossed branch. Suddenly Bluster pricked his ears at a scuttling noise outside. Aedan recognised his chance; he quickly slipped the bridle on and over the focussed ears, securing the buckle while his pony stared out into the darkness.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered over the low wall into the adjacent stable, feeling a good measure of pride at having tacked up first.

  “Almost,” Kalry replied. “Just setting the stirrup length.”

  Aedan cringed. He had forgotten about that. Saying nothing, he pulled the stirrups down from the saddle and estimated that his feet would swing freely above them with a few inches to spare. He tore at the leather buckle, yanking in a good foot of the strap and secured it again at the highest possible notch.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Aedan darted recklessly under the pony’s belly and repeated the procedure, wishing the leather would not creak so.

  “Aedan?”

  “Yes,” he replied, leaping against the saddle and scrambling up until his foot could reach the stirrup that was now some height above the ground. “I’m ready.” He looked at the dark shape of the stable door blocking his exit, muttered something and slid down again, the saddle pulling his shirt up and grazing his belly. He eased the door open. Kalry was already on her way out. He repeated the scrambling mounting operation, but this time Bluster had no reason to stay put, and walked out the stable with Aedan still clawing his way up.

  When he finally seated himself he couldn’t reach the reins – they had slid down the pony’s lowered neck. Fortunately, Kalry’s pony stepped in front causing Bluster to raise his head just enough for Aedan to strain forward until his joints were popping, grip the leather with the tips of his fingers, and draw it back with a gasp. He tried to stifle his ragged breathing.

  “Now we reach the difficult part,” Kalry whispered.

  Aedan said nothing, mostly because he didn’t want to betray his exhaustion.

  “It will be best if I lead. Stay close so we don’t get separated in the mist. Are you alright? You seem quiet.”

  “I’m trying to listen.” It was sort of true.

  They walked the ponies with as much stealth as the clip-clop of hoof on stone would allow. Soon they left the paved farmyard and the horses’ tread dropped to near silence on the damp earth. It was an eerie sensation, floating through the mist with the ground barely visible, the only sign of movement the drift of pale eddies. Any sounds that reached them were wrapped in a thick dreamy blanket.

  “I think we are getting to the gate,” Kalry whispered. “I don’t want to dismount here, so I’ll try to open it from above.”

  They drew to a stop. After a few clinks of the chain and a metallic groan, the heavy wooden beams of the gate loomed out of the fog and swung past. Aedan hoped she wouldn’t ask him to close it. Perched up in the air as he was, his short arms would never reach the top beam. He dug his heels into the pony’s side and Bluster surged past.

  “Let’s take the juniper track,” Kalry said, ignoring the gate. “It’s slower than the road, but less than half the distance, and we can’t do any more than walk in this mist anyway. The track lets us drop more quickly and the mist might clear up as we get lower.”

  Aedan grunted. He hated the track. When the horse aimed uphill, all was well – holding on presented little difficulty. When the horse aimed downhill, it was like sitting on the side of a perilously steep roof, always at that desperate point of sliding off. And this was a roof that bounced and lurched and made unexpected grabs at succulent shoots of grass and reeds. Once, not too long ago, he had lost his grip and gradually advanced down the horse’s neck in a smooth buttery slide until he ran out of horse and dropped off the end. He would make sure that did not happen again.

  He saw Kalry swaying easily with the pony’s motion as they walked away down the path. He braced himself, gripping the pommel of the saddle with both hands and let the reins hang slack. This pony would have to steer itself. As Bluster’s hooves reached the drop, his withers sank and Aedan felt himself slipping down the lurching slope. He made a quick grab at the cantle behind him and clung on, rigid with desperation that seemed to be making up for the deficiency of leg length and technique.

  “How are you managing back there?” Her voice was annoyingly calm.

  “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

  He was wearing his warm deerskin jacket, but now little waterfalls of sweat were running off his nose and eyebrows as he fought the pony’s every movement. They walked in silence for what felt like hours, descending rapidly.

  As Kalry had hoped, the mist was a low cloud that thinned with their descent, revealing a long grassy slope levelling out ahead and, beyond that, the dim outlines of a sleeping village. The whole central valley began to open up around them. It was curiously bigger in the dark. Though the basin was only a few miles across, the wooded slopes on the far side, now murky and black, looked to be a half-day’s journey away.

  “We can make up some time here. Are you able to trot?”

  “Of course,” Aedan said, already wincing, and hating the fickle mist for abandoning him to such a fate. What followed was every bit as unpleasant as he had feared. Whenever he was about to settle into the rhythm of the stride, he got bounced a little too high and dropped on a saddle rushing up to meet him, a collision that loosened every tooth. Eventually, after he had been hammered to a tender perfection, the ground levelled out and Kalry broke into a canter.

  “At last!” he sighed, grasping the pommel and sinking into the saddle.

  The village wall was a ten-foot-high ring of stakes and planks. It was a relatively flimsy construction by war standards, but it would be more than enough to keep them out if they could not rouse the sentry and persuade him to open the gate. Aedan had to hammer at the planks for some time before there was a response. The sentry’s curses were vigorous and they arrived at the peephole before he did, so that he was more than a little embarrassed when he recognised Kalry, daughter of the most important landowner in the Mistyvales.

  “Begging your pardon, Miss,” he stammered as he applied himself to sliding the bolts. “I was thinking only that you would be a – that is, somebody of the other – er – other sort, and not a lady, if you take my meaning. No offense I hope?”

  “Don’t worry yourself, Beagan,” she said with a smile as she rode through. “I’m not going to tell, and I don’t think I understood half of it anyway.”

  “Thank you, Miss,” he said, the relief obvious in his voice. “You always been treating us rough folks good.” Beagan, obviously flustered by the trouble his ill manners might cause him, had completely neglected to ask the reason for the peculiar arrival, an omission that could have landed him in even more trouble.

  Aedan had never seen the village at night. The houses with their domed thatch roofs resembled lines of squat ogres with round haircuts. But then his angle changed and a few chimneys and a wind vane pushed the strange likeness from his mind. The ro
ad led past the town hall with its high bell tower that rose over the surrounding roofs, silhouetted against the shrouded moon. A cat’s hiss interrupted the dull tread of hooves, but nothing else stirred. It was now late and all would be asleep.

  They took the next turn to the right, passed three silent houses, and stopped outside a large building. Here they dismounted and tied the ponies to a rail.

  Aedan’s legs were trembling. With every step they threatened to collapse and pitch him forward into the ground. He willed his way to the door and knocked, softly. Then, after several attempts, he knocked loudly. Finally he slipped a small knife from his belt, set to work at the gaping edge of the door and, bit by bit, slid the bolt free.

  “We’re not going to be thrown in prison are we?” Kalry whispered.

  “Of course not … I think.”

  Aedan stalked into the darkness of the room. He placed his foot on something that rolled, throwing his balance off to the side. It caused him to stumble and stamp on the edge of an object that flipped over with an almost musical clang.

  “What are you doing?” Kalry hissed, stepping into the room and promptly falling. She landed with a thump and a dull crunch of something that didn’t sound like it would be repairable.

  “You have to watch your footing in here,” Aedan said, completely unnecessarily, as he stooped to help her up. “It’s very cluttered.”

  “Why don’t we light a lamp?”

  “It would take us hours to find one, even during daylight. I’m just going to nip over to wake him. He’ll know where his lamps are. Can you wait for a moment?”

  “Happily,” she said, nursing her shin.

  Aedan slipped away. Not only did he slip, he tottered, fell, stumbled, sprawled and collided into all manner of interesting-sounding things. A gang armed with clubs would have been hard pressed to make more noise. He had covered about half the distance when a door opened at the top of a stairway ahead of him and light streamed into the large space, revealing, in silhouette, a jungle of items covering every possible description and size.

  Aedan looked back to see Kalry gaping at the strange clutter that filled the aisles between overflowing shelves. At least she would now understand what he had just endured. Her father had never brought her here – such a place was beneath his more refined tastes. On the shelves beside Aedan were urns, branding irons, chipped flower pots, a millstone, rolls of dressmakers’ linen, and a weird green suit of armour underneath a stack of frayed parchments and a rat trap. Then, over most items was a soft sheet of dust, as though the shelves had been tucked away to rest for several years.

  “Who is the foul wretch? I’ll have your skin and I’ll have it slowly!” The voice was chilling – thin and menacing.

  “It’s me – Aedan. Don’t be angry. We need your help.”

  “Aedan? Oh, hmm, yes, it is you.” The voice had changed completely and now gave the distinct impression of dreamy afternoons and the lazy humming of beetles. “I thought I should try to be a touch sinister considering that you sounded like a burglar. Perfectly useless one, I might add.”

  “Nulty, we need to speak to you. It’s urgent. This is Kalry.”

  The light and its bearer advanced from the doorway onto a wooden platform that overlooked the maze of shelves and aisles. He was a portly little man wearing an oversized nightgown, one woollen slipper and one sock. He had small bright eyes in a round face with side whiskers which made it even rounder.

  “Ah, young Miss Kalry of Badger’s Hall. What an unexpected honour. Are you also a burglar?” He smiled and chuckled and turned red at his little joke. “No, no of course you’re not. Well come along the both of you. I’ll get some tea brewing and you can start talking.”

  “Actually we are in a terrible rush –”

  “Yes, yes, it’s what they all say, but my ears work just as well whether the kettle is over the fire or not. The parlour is this way. Hurry along before I take the light.”

  Nulty was balanced on the edge of a threadbare couch, absorbing the last details as the kettle began to purr.

  “Yes, I think you two are quite right. Yes, I most certainly do. Odd that all the adults missed it and only children saw it … but maybe it’s not that odd. We adults are often blind to what children see. And then you two possess the sharpest young minds in the midlands.” His gaze was distant and he drummed his fingers together.

  “What are we going to do?” Kalry asked.

  “Hmm? Ah, yes, what to do … Hmm. You and Aedan are going to put some hot tea, fresh bread and honey into your bellies. I am going to assemble a little army. By the time you are full, I shall be back.” With that he marched out of the building.

  Aedan lost no time carving two colossal hunks of bread and lathering them with deep coats of honey while Kalry poured the tea. Outside, they could hear the growing sounds of shouting and banging on doors. Despite the tightness in his stomach, Aedan finished his tea and bread in far less time than was entirely healthy, then fell into an exhausted reverie. He lost all sense of where he was and he looked up with a start as Kalry called his name slightly louder than was necessary.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Why didn’t you answer me the first time?”

  “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”

  “Something’s worrying you, isn’t it?” she said. “You had such a horrible look on your face.”

  “I realised something. What if Quin notices that we are missing? He knows we suspect him. He’s bound to check on us and he’s not someone who’s going to be fooled by lumps of clothes and pillows under the blankets. I’ve been a fool.”

  “How are you the fool? You saw what nobody else did.”

  “I only made one plan. Remember the stories we read about the border wars and the young General Osric who became so famous?”

  Kalry nodded.

  “Well, what made him so difficult to beat was that he always had a heap of plans which he could choose from, like different tools. The plan I made won’t work if Quin finds out that we left. He could change his strategy.”

  “I’m sure he won’t. He wouldn’t be able to convince everyone to stay in the house for another night. This is his chance. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We just need to hope. Don’t be upset with yourself Aedan, you’re doing better than any of us.”

  Aedan ruffled his hair with honey-coated fingers, producing a startling imitation of an upended tree, and walked to a large rack of shelves where hundreds of little copper vials were arranged, all neatly labelled. He began to run his fingers along them, searching.

  “So he’s an apothecary too. What are you looking for?” Kalry asked.

  “Found it,” he said, snatching one, checking the label and dropping it in his pocket.

  “Hadn’t you better ask first?”

  “I’ll ask, just not first.”

  “Well what is it?”

  “Something I might need for another plan if Quin is still there by breakfast time. Better that you don’t know. Don’t want you to have to lie to your father if he gets suspicious.”

  Kalry looked upset. “I’m going to wait outside seeing as you obviously don’t need me here.” She lit a second lamp and took herself, with her barely nibbled bread, back through the maze and out onto the porch.

  Aedan drifted down between the aisles. A cacophony of banging and clattering suggested that he was searching for something. He emerged into the open a little later with a small crossbow and a quiver of short bolts draped over his shoulder. His little frame made them look like a giant’s weapons. They swung awkwardly as he walked, bouncing off his thighs and jabbing him in the neck.

  Kalry was not in sight. Aedan felt a rush of fear and darted around the corner into a narrow alley. There, crouched in the shadows, she sat beside the young village beggar-boy who was wolfing down the last of her bread with sticky gulps. The thought jumped into Aedan’s mind that the boy had stolen her meal, but then he saw the soft look on her face. It wasn’t the first time he’d se
en her do this. He had once argued with her and justified eating his whole sandwich while she had called him a greedy pig and shared hers with the beggar-woman’s son. Aedan’s sandwich hadn’t tasted as good as he’d expected – nothing ever did under those circumstances.

  The growing sound of hooves roused them and they walked back to the road where dozens of hastily armed men were gathering. Some wore uniforms. Among these was the local sheriff, Lanor, who was clearly taking charge. The group swelled as more riders cantered up from the dark streets.

  Nulty returned and called to Aedan. “Listen, my boy, there’s something that I wanted to be clear about. You happened to mention an odd detail – that Dresbourn was showing Quin his ancestral scroll when you walked into his office. Are you sure about that?”

  “I think so. I’ve seen it once before when Kalry showed me.”

  “Listen to me,” Nulty said, leaning forward. “If what you suspect and what I suspect line up …” the little man gripped his whiskers and his face turned bright red. “Try not to leave her alone, Aedan. Make sure she stays safe.”

  “Who? Kalry?”

  “Yes, of course Kalry! Who else?”

  “But –”

  “No time now. Just stay with her, Aedan.”

  With that he dashed into his store and, after a tremendous commotion, re-emerged, armed with a representative of almost every conceivable weapon strapped somewhere to his rotund form. He clinked with chain-mail, blades, clubs, a bow, and even a great oval shield that hung on his back, making him look like a large tottering tortoise. He had managed to find a pair of boots but he still wore his night gown under the many belts and straps.

  There were one or two smiles as he emerged jingling with every step and heaved himself onto his horse. It took some of the attention off Aedan who had been hovering, waiting for a moment when he could scramble onto his pony’s back unobserved. He saw his chance, leapt at the saddle, and clawed his way up.

  Sheriff Lanor began to speak. He was a hard-looking man with a loud voice that commanded instant silence. “Thank you all for joining us. There is little more to be said than what you have already been told. The slaver threat appears to be real this time, and the ploy is a devilishly cunning one. If we are not quick, Badgerfields may be empty by the time we arrive, every single person there bound for Lekran slave ports. Keep your weapons at the ready; these are not principled men. If you intend to show mercy then it would be better that you stayed at home.”