A Marriage of Friends (The Inner Seas Kingdoms Book 8)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “What is it?” Alec repeated. The group was silent. “Could it be a bear, or a mountain lion?” he asked.

  A noise above them caused all their necks to swivel, as the lead wagon of the caravan came into view on the road. They all stood silently by the footprint as Richard rode a white horse out in front of the wagon. “Have you found him?” Richard called from a hundred paces away.

  “Come see what we found,” one man finally said, and Richard rode forward to dismount beside them. He kneeled to look at the print they found then looked up at them, his face waxy pale. “Have you seen anything else?” he asked in a choked voice, as his fingers nervously played with his mustache. Everyone silently shook their heads no. “You,” he pointed at Alec, “go get Aristotle.”

  Alec ran up the trail past the wagons in their line and reached Ari at the end. “Richard said to bring you to the front. There’s a footprint where Jonso disappeared.”

  Ari looked at Alec’s stricken face, then set the brake, tied off the reins and climbed down from the wagon. He moved with surprising spryness to the front of the wagon train and stooped to see the print. He looked at Richard, and shook his head slightly. “Is there any other trace of the man?” Ari asked, and watched all heads shake no.

  Richard stood up. “We’ll need to get to Riverside as quickly as possible. Let’s get moving. Alec, you said the trail was clear to the bottom of the mountain?” he asked. Alec nodded. “Then get the axes and picks going to clear the trail up the next ridge. Same crew we used yesterday plus more. Everyone start moving, and stay with a partner.”

  Alec sighed and took a shovel as he headed down the hill ahead of the train. The crewmembers stayed in close proximity to one another as they walked ahead, and glanced nervously around the forest. When they reached the bottom of the mountain they followed the trail along a valley floor that was clear of problems, then set to work cutting and hacking up the next ridge.

  The work crew worked hard all day and opened the trail most of the way up the ridge, muscles aching in every extremity by the end. Richard came riding to inspect them. “Keep going to the top of the ridge, and the caravan will catch up with you; they’re only a quarter of a mile behind you now,” he said.

  The weary members of the road crew finished the trail to the ridge top in time to watch the sun set behind them in the west. “Hey, look over there,” one voice called out. Everyone turned, and to the south they could see a number of fires burning in a distance valley. “Those must be in Riverside,” someone else said, as they stood and watched.

  Soon they heard the approach of the carnival wagons, pulled by the weary horses, and then the wagons were at the ridge top as well. “Road workers get first in line for dinner,” Richard announced, as someone gestured for him to look at the fires burning off in the distance. “There it is ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a rapacious tone. “Soon the gold and silver coins from Riverside will be pouring into our pockets, and you’ll all earn big bonuses. Then we’ll be able to float on rafts down the Griffey River to Goldenfields, and earn more money for selling the timbers we ride on!” he claimed.

  The mood of the camp grew brighter as the sight of Riverside and Richard’s predictions slightly eased their fear about Jonso’s disappearance. Alec led the line past the dinner wagon when the perfunctory meal was hastily prepared, and sat down to eat. Others came and ate as well, and Alec listened to the talk around him, then dragged himself to bed under Ari’s wagon.

  When Alec awoke the next morning, he felt a sense of anticipation. He wasn’t as focused as most others seemed to be on the riches Richard assured would soon be theirs. Alec was looking forward to the comfort of being around other people. He’d enjoyed the forest as a place to relax away from people, but now this forest gave him a different feeling. It felt unfriendly and threatening, and he was jumpy with the feeling that he was being watched. Alec fed and groomed the horses, then led them back to Ari’s wagon, talking to them primarily to calm himself.

  The horses secured, Alec walked back to the front and grabbed his axe to clear the brush and the trees along the trail to Riverside. It was all downhill to Riverside, and Richard told them to expect to reach the town by mid-afternoon if the way stayed clear for the wagons to travel. Alec and the crew worked industriously to open the way, eager to see the town at last. Within a couple of hours they found the trail itself growing wider and less restricted, a happy sign of a busier road closer to the town. Soon they agreed to stop and wait for the wagons to catch them, since no further work was needed. Not far away the river was running, dappled sunlight reflecting off the ripples occasionally.

  Before long they heard the wagons coming, and saw Richard again on his horse, leading the caravan and scouting for trouble. “Why’s everyone here?” he asked, riding to the group of resting men.

  “The road needs no further work. We’ve hardly had to do a thing the past mile,” an older groom explained.

  “In that case, everyone climb aboard your wagons as they pass, and we’ll roll into Riverside,” Richard instructed them with a genuine grin. They stood waiting as the wagons came into view, the horses showing none of the strain of the previous day’s climb up the steep ridge.

  Alec watched each wagon go by. He anticipated the arrival of the dancers’ bright home, and felt brighter himself when he saw Natalie sitting on the bench up front. “Hello Alec,” she hailed him with a smile.

  “Hello Natalie!” he returned the greeting, and then with courage that he didn’t know he had, he called out to her, “Wouldn’t you like to ride in an ingenaire’s wagon at the back of the caravan for a change?” He blushed at his own temerity in blurting out the question.

  To his surprise, Natalie turned to her friends. “I’m going to see what the view’s like in the back,” she declared, and she jumped down so that her momentum carried her right into Alec’s arms. They stood there for a moment, both surprised by the contact, and then she backed away a step. “Do you promise the view will be especially good?” she asked.

  “Well, actually, no,” Alec admitted, and laughed. “It’s just a view of the wagons in front of us!” A few minutes later Ari came rolling into view.

  Natalie and Alec climbed aboard the last wagon in the train. “Happy to have a ride for a change?” Ari asked Alec with a grin. “You’ve had a fair amount of work these past three days, haven’t you? Go ahead and sit back and rest so you’ll be prepared for whatever comes next.

  “I appreciate the company you brought with you,” he continued. “Natalie, good to see you again,” he added. She smiled demurely, and Alec sensed that the two shared something he knew nothing about.

  “Ari, what type of footprint was that back there where Jonso disappeared?” Alec asked the question that had troubled him all morning.

  Aristotle’s grin disappeared. “Truth be told, it’s one I’ve rarely seen in real life myself,” Ari answered, with an answer Alec knew was an evasion.

  “But you know what it is, don’t you?” Alec persisted.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Ari agreed. “Since you’re going to make an issue out of it, I’ll tell you that it looked like a lacerta track.”

  Alec felt his head lighten, and fear clutched his heart. He heard Natalie take a sharp breath. “You mean a lacerta got Jonso?” he asked. Ari nodded his head. “Dear God in heaven, protect us all,” Alec prayed quickly.

  “Saying your prayers is a good idea. Keeping your eyes and ears open and your head low is a good idea too,” Ari warned him in a serious tone. “Richard knows now that this is a dangerous place, and he’s going to get us through and out of Riverside as fast as possible. We’ll only be here a day or two, so just be careful and stay close to me.”

  Alec heard the warning in Ari’s voice. “You think the earthquake and the lacertii are all part of something bigger, don’t you?” he asked in a moment of insight.

  “That’s very perceptive. Yes, I do, Alec, and I think it’s interesting that you were the one closest to the road falling a
way and the attack of the lacertii. Maybe it’s coincidence, but I think you need to be careful, my friend. Be sure to make your own luck these next few days,” Ari said, looking directly at him, and Alec saw Natalie staring at him as well. Alec nodded, and fell silent, watching the forest that had become a threatening presence once more.

  For the next few hours the carnival rode along the path to the town, most of the performers cheered by their expectation of a chance to work in front of a crowd again. Shortly after noon they rounded a bend in the road, and saw a slight smoky haze above the valley in front of them. “That must be from the town,” Ari said, looking ahead. “Have you noticed that we haven’t seen another person on the road yet?”

  They approached the town, and the musicians began to play music. Small homes and cabins began to appear along the road. But rather than seeing anyone come bursting out in wonder at the sight of the circus, the wagon passengers saw only doors that remained closed.

  The front of the carnival caravan entered the town proper, and Alec heard the music falter, then stop. They continued to move on, and Alec saw why the notes had died away. The town was ashes and ruins. The buildings still smoldered, charred timbers lay askew, and not a person was in sight. Natalie started to cry silent tears at the horrific sight.

  Richard rode his white horse madly back to Ari, his face showing fear. “What do you suggest?” he asked. “Do we try to just get through here as fast as possible and make our way down river?”

  “That’s the only thing you can do,” Ari replied tensely. “Start everyone moving fast and don’t stop for anything. Let’s get as far away from here before nightfall as possible.”

  “Amen to that,” Richard said, and rode forward again, telling each wagon to speed up and get through town as quickly as possible.

  The front wagons began to speed up, while that the rear wagons had to wait long minutes before they had a chance to increase their speed as well. Ari looked grimly at the wagon in front of him, following the path it chose that wove in and out among the debris spilling out to block the road on both sides.

  Suddenly, blood-curdling screams sounded from up ahead. Wagon after wagon slammed to a halt as the front wagons stopped to fight off the ambush that descended upon them.

  “What is it? What’s going on?” Natalie asked with a note of panic in her voice.

  “It’s lacertii, and we’re under attack,” Ari said angrily. “Listen, we’ve got to get out of this wagon. The last wagon isn’t going to be able to get away, especially not among this wreckage.” Ari climbed down from the wagon bench, and shouted to Alec and Natalie, “Grab some supplies and climb down on this side of the wagon. We’ll try to run up ahead to the front of the caravan and see if Richard can win his way free.

  “If we don’t fight our way out, or if we get separated, I want you two to sneak past these lacertii and go to the river. There’s a bridge across the river. We’ll meet in the underbrush on the bank under the bridge. And we’ll make further plans from there when we know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Alec, do you have all that? Natalie, do you understand?”

  They both nodded their heads, though Alec wasn’t sure he could remember anything at the moment. He saw Natalie grab hold of the bag of food that Ari usually kept behind his seat. He remembered to grab his roll of blankets, and also pulled his walking stick out from under the wagon seat, then prepared to face the horrific reality of Riverside.

  Jeff Quyle has also written the Alchemy’s Apprentice Series, a four book chronicle of the adventures of Marco, a boy who whose life as an ordinary apprentice is thrown into unimaginable realms by extraordinary events. The sample below is from the first novel in the series, The Gorgon’s Blood Solution:

  He let his mind roam along many paths of imagination, but often the paths all seemed to come to the same imaginative destination, one that invariably involved the lovely Constance from the dressmakers shop. He managed to be her hero, to save her from any number of threatening circumstances in his fantasies – he rescued her from thugs, he saved her from drowning in a canal, he pulled her from a burning building. Each rescue led to a heartwarming embrace and confession of mutual affection and attraction.

  And so he fell asleep, his wine mostly undrunk, his mind falling further away from the emotions of the day.

  He awoke in the dark, and sat up, startled. His lantern had burned up all its oil, and something had awakened him suddenly.

  As Marco tried to collect his wits he heard a noise, the sound of a ship gently striking the pier, and he realized that it was just such a sound that had awoken him. That meant that two ships had arrived late in the evening, which was an unheard-of occurrence.

  As he sat puzzling over the strange circumstances, he heard a third ship bump into position, and then the distant sound of a fourth ship, arriving at a different pier. Completely perplexed, he fumbled about and managed to strike a new light, and set his lantern burning again with more oil added to its tank.

  There was no reason for four ships to come into the harbor in the middle of the night. The fishermen hadn’t left yet for the morning catch, he presumed, and the shippers and traders didn’t try to navigate in the dark. He stood up, and uncertainly shuffled towards his blanketed doorway, his skin of wine unconsciously grasped in one hand.

  He heard the thump of many pairs of boots and bare feet, gently treading somewhere over his head. People were walking overhead, a great many people. Marco could not imagine who could be coming to the docks to meet the unusual arriving boats, nor could he imagine what large group of people could be disembarking from a small fleet of boats in the middle of the night. He felt a sudden premonition of something bad happening, and he reached down to pick up the rusty knife that he kept in the room, an imagined piece of defense that he had relied on for a sliver of peace of mind when he had first started sleeping in the room.

  With one hand holding the wine skin and the other hand holding the knife, he cautiously pressed the blanket slightly to one side and sidled out of the room. He let the blanket swing back shut behind him, trapping the faint rays of the lantern inside the room, and he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, while his ears better heard the unmuffled noises of the people overhead.

  He heard softly whispered words, and at first he thought the impact of the wine was filling his ears with wool, because he could make no sense of the words he heard. The he realized with a shock that people overhead were speaking a foreign language, a sibilant shushing sound that was vaguely familiar, but bone-chilling in its import.

  It was a raid! The Lion City was being raided! Marco had heard old housewives warnings about the Corsairs who would come to the city and take away bad children; it was a frightening tool used to coerce children into obedience, but it had its basis in a historical reality. There had been Corsair raids in the distance past in the port city, at a time within the living memory of the older residents of the city.

  And now they were back! The Corsairs were in the city, on a mission to quickly grab riches and captives. The goods would travel back to the raiders’ home cities in the far east, the homes and markets along the southern shore of the great sea, while the captives would become slaves. There were a handful of people in the city who were said to be former slaves, people who had regained their freedom by whatever means – a handful of such people. They told terrible stories of the fates they had suffered, and the worse fates that had befallen others who had been swept away from their homes, in other places that had been raided.

  Marco felt himself actually quaking with fear, as he realized how close he was to an unfolding disaster. He was trapped directly beneath the raiders, with no way to get out to go alert the town of the danger that was arriving at the waterfront. If anything, he was in danger of being caught himself, if any curious Corsairs were to decide to explore the empty spaces beneath the docks.

  He needed to go back into his room, blow out his lamp, and wait for the raid to finish, he concluded. He couldn’t get out of the wat
erfront to either run away or raise a warning, so he needed to sit silently, let time pass, and let the Corsairs to go on their way when they finished grabbing all the plunder they could lay their hands on. And then The Lion City would, like Marco himself, crawl out of its state of shock and assess the damage that had been done.

  Algornia’s shop wasn’t likely to suffer any troubles, Marco suddenly thought, as his mind skittered around various aspects of the raid. The shop wasn’t particularly close to the docks, so it wasn’t going to be an easy, early target. Nor was it particularly inviting-looking from the outside; it had a musty appearance in Marco’s eyes – he had always secretly wished his master would improve the exterior of the shop to make it look more inviting, exotic, and mysteriously alluring. As it stood, there was nothing about the plain dark exterior that would be likely to catch the eyes of the Corsairs and invite them to imagine wealthy plunder within.

  He thought about what the raiders were likely to visit. There were warehouses adjacent to the docks; those would be easy and obvious targets, though he didn’t know how much actual value would be contained among all the ordinary and everyday inventory of wool or other mundane commodities. There were also a number of large, well-furnished houses not far past the warehouses, the homes to the families of the traders who profited from their fleets going in and out of the city’s harbor. Those houses were likely to be extensively ransacked, Marco guessed. And then there was just random chance as to what was inviting enough and close enough to draw the attention of the Corsairs, depending on how long they planned to stay in the city and loot it, certainly not more than a few hours he assumed.

  Marco fumbled with his hand behind him, the hand that held the knife. He found the edge of the blanket without looking, as his head continued to face directly upwards, looking at the dark underside of the pier where the Corsairs were walking. Just as he got ready to duck into his room, a bright flash of yellow light lit up the entire area. He could see the posts and the beams and the structures that all existed around his room, as the reflected dim yellow light penetrated down to where even sunlight never reached in the shadows beneath the dock.