The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  “It’s more colorful, more fun,” Derk remembered sitting on the bench at the front of the temple, Sister Kiyla standing over the scroll. “‘In the days before our need, before the blood of the devout had been spilled by the belligerent, the Holy Goddess in Her wisdom and love stretched her Black Hands over the land in order to make a dwelling place for all those who sought peace.’ That’s much more beautiful than, what is it? ‘Before we came to this land, the Holy Goddess had already prepared it so those who sought peace would have a refuge.’” Derk shook his head. “I mean, it gets the facts across but where’s the mystery? The wonder?”

  “I’m surprised you’ve had such an intimate experience with Sister Hila’s writings,” Sindra mused. “Your priestess must have been exemplary.”

  Derk shrugged, trying to brush it off while trying to think of something which would satisfy the priestess’ curiosity without revealing anything about his past. “She was a good priestess. Like…a mother, I suppose.”

  “Was your mother especially devout?” Sindra asked. She seemed genuinely interested and not prying but still, it made Derk a bit nervous. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said the last bit. But it was true. Sister Kiyla had been more of a mother figure than his step-mother. What about Cira? He thought about their last kiss and what it meant, what it didn’t mean. He wondered if she still thought about him. Even if she did, he was here now, with Sindra, and she had asked him a question.

  “I don’t remember, to be honest,” he said. Derk kicked something in the street and sent it skittering across the dirt. “She died when I was young. I vaguely recall sitting in temple with her. My father wasn’t especially devout.” The Church was the only place Derk could find refuge from his father. His father had pulled away from the Church, hadn’t he? Darix Cartaskin had abandoned the spiritual side of life to make something permanent in the material world. At least he had tried to. Derk saw the lights of the temple ahead and cocked his head at Sindra, thinking a change in subject was in order. “And Jezlen? He’s not devout, is he?”

  Sindra’s face clouded. “My nephew…you have to understand, the people of the Forest have different gods. Different beliefs, and Jezlen.…” She paused for a moment and this time he knew she was keeping something back. “Sometimes systems prey upon people.”

  “Is that why you left the Forest? Why you follow the Goddess?” Derk knew all too well what Sindra said was true, though he wondered what had happened to Jezlen. Sindra shook her head.

  “I was called by the Goddess when I was younger. He was very little and so I hardly knew him when I left for the Valley to follow my path. Later on he left the Forest and Her hand guided him to me.” Sindra tried to smile but her eyes looked full of worry. They reached the temple and instead of walking in she stopped, the pair facing each other on the dark street. “I am the only family he has here. I don’t know if it means anything to him.”

  “Sometimes what we need isn’t family, but a friend.” Derk watched as Sindra looked at him, regarding him with her dark grey eyes. Eventually the corners of her mouth turned upward in a sad smile. Derk opened the door for her before following her into the temple kitchen, not surprised to find a plate of food waiting on the table. His stomach grumbled, suddenly feeling very hungry. He hopped up onto the table and Sindra pulled up a stool, both of them digging into the food Asa had prepared.

  “I’m glad you helped Asa in the bar fight,” Sindra said, licking her fingers. Derk reached behind himself and grabbed a spoon, digging into the barley and onion stew. He chewed and swallowed before he answered her.

  “My jaw wasn’t all too happy I did” he said finally, taking another spoonful. He smiled at her, looking up as he heard quiet footsteps approaching them. Devra walked into the kitchen, a pitcher in her gloved hands.

  “How’d it go?” she asked. She set the pitcher on the table and grabbed a handful of berries. “Where’s the guide?”

  “He off preparing for the trip,” Derk said before Sindra could. “You missed some good music. The singer could have been better.”

  “Think you could have done better?” Sindra quipped. Derk rolled his eyes and took another bite, trying not to smile with his mouth full of food. “You might not have known this, Dev, but our friend here is quite the singer.”

  “And dancer,” Derk said, still chewing. “Also, I can do card tricks.”

  “Do you sing?” Devra asked, her green eyes bright with interest. “Would you sing for us?”

  “I sang when we left Portsmouth,” he offered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. But Sindra was laughing and Devra appeared to be waiting. “I don’t know what to sing.”

  “Sing anything,” Sindra insisted, her eyes sparkling. Both she and Devra focused on him. The best way to get someone to stop asking for something was to give it to them, Derk knew, so he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, the lyrics of the song coming easily to him.

  I had a love fair as the night,

  She was gone in the morn

  Joined were we in the moonlight

  But now my heart is torn

  I loved the girl from far away,

  I pined for her for years

  All my hopes crushed in a day

  And smiles have turned to tears

  For now I know she sees in me

  Naught but a bit of fun

  In dreams, her I no longer see

  And boyish love is done

  I keep my love inside of me

  For I am not the one.

  Derk looked around, the kitchen seeming suddenly too quiet. Sindra and Devra were still staring at him and he thought they would laugh. But Devra and Sindra just looked at each other, not saying anything.

  “The sad ones are the hardest to get right,” Devra said, her arms crossed over her chest. “You have to make it sad but still keep them on the dance floor.”

  “Thank you for singing for us,” Sindra nodded. “I hope you’ll grace us with your singing at some other time.”

  “You’ll have to sing for Asa, he does love a good song,” Devra insisted, sitting next to Sindra at the table finally.

  “Entertainment and protection, yeah?” Derk hopped off the table and winced. His legs had fallen asleep from sitting on the table top and he braced himself against the table, stamping his foot to get the blood flowing.

  “Are you all right?” Sindra asked.

  “I’m fine, just my leg. It fell asleep. I’ll probably turn in myself.” Derk bowed his head in farewell before walking carefully across the kitchen, not wanting to fall as the tingling sensation crawled through his legs and feet. “See you in the morning?” He heard them bid him goodnight as he walked out of the kitchen, recalling where the common hall lay. The corridor led to the temple and he couldn’t help but gaze up at the statue of the Goddess behind the altar, Her serene face looking out over the pews.

  Derk nodded at the priestess standing watch at the door separating the common area from the temple, not recognizing her from their brief stay in the town. She waited for him to show his pass before pulling the door open, the hushed tones emanating from within the chamber telling him most of the people slept. He saw a corner of the room was dimly lit and Asa sat on the edge of the light on his bedroll, sewing something. Derk stepped quietly to his bedroll and sat down, unbuckling his boots.

  “Missed a good meal,” Asa said, drawing the needle through the bit of fabric. Derk pulled one boot off, setting it next to his pack.

  “It was still good when I got at it,” Derk said, pulling off the other one. “Besides, I’m sure I’ll get more of your hot meals in the next few phases.” He set the other next to its twin before pulling off his socks, draping them over the boots. “How was cooking with the priestess?”

  “Pretty good, though she cut herself,” Asa said, finishing a few more stitches. “She wasn’t being careful. I patched her up though.” Asa finished the dart and then turned the garment inside out, revealing it to be a tunic. Derk could tell from Asa’s tone nothing had happened
between the young man and the priestess and Asa didn’t seem to know what he missed. “Devra said you and Sindra went to meet the guide? How’d that go? You think he’s a good man?”

  Derk shrugged and pulled off his shirt, folding it neatly while he thought of what to say. “He’s a Forester, so a bit mysterious. Looked the part. Cape and leather armor, a sword. Young. Willing to help.” All true.

  Asa smiled in response. “Sounds like a good match.” He folded the tunic and put it in his pack, not bothering to secure it since they were in the safety of the temple. “Well, I’m going to turn in. Got a busy day before we head out to the Freewild. I’ve got to help Devra get a few things and pick up my sword from the smith. Don’t stay up too late.” Asa smacked him on the leg before he crawled into his bedroll, his mop of dark, straight hair the only bit of him showing.

  Derk envied Asa, being able to fall asleep so quickly. Asa probably only had happy dreams, of his family or rescuing people from burning things. Derk still had dreams of a blackened skeleton reeking of smoke, the ring of his father’s house on its charred finger. Or he dreamed of Old Gam, leaving him in a dark alley. One time he had a dream he was hiding somewhere in his father’s house and Cira had found him, her beautiful face wild, eyes wide, her mouth twisted in a cruel smile. She shrieked and attacked him, all the other members of the household appearing behind him and doing the same.

  The door opened and Derk looked up, seeing Devra and Sindra both enter, a few of the other travelers stirring as they both walked toward Derk and the sleeping Asa. He smiled at them before reaching into his pack, pulling out a deck of cards. He shuffled the cards as he listened to them slip out of their robes and skirts and dresses, noticing Devra’s still gloved hands. Sindra’s bedroll was beside his, and the priestess smiled at him before she slipped under her quilts. As Derk dealt himself a game he heard Devra whisper a goodnight before rolling over. He muttered in reply, not able to keep from turning his head toward Sindra as he heard her humming.

  She hummed the song he sang earlier. After a few lines she rolled over onto her stomach and looked at him, her face darker in the lack of light. “It’s a tune that sticks with you,” she whispered.

  “They’re supposed to,” he laughed, looking at the cards he had put down. He flipped over the third card in the deck and placed it where it belonged. “Like the emotions in the songs. They linger.” Derk flipped over another card and then another, not sure why he said what he did. He pressed his lips together, thinking of the kiss he shared with Cira all those months ago. He thought of Old Gam and the way her skin felt against his, her long, thick hair brushing against his shoulders, tangled in his fingers. He wondered what songs made her think of him. He remembered dancing earlier, how Sindra had felt in his arms, her cheek on his shoulder. The memory pushed the thoughts of Gam and Cira away. Derk looked up at her from his game, shuffling the deck again.

  “What lingers in your mind, Derk?” Sindra asked. Derk narrowed his eyes at her. Was she asking him as a priestess or as herself? Were those things so different? He remembered how she spoke of her nephew, the look on her face and the words she said. How she had first spoken to him in the temple back in Portsmouth and how she gazed at him when he was singing. What part of him would answer her? Which part of her did he want asking the question? Priestly council wouldn’t have been bad at this moment but his more romantic thoughts weighed in as well.

  “You,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. Something on Sindra’s face made him think she was pleased with his answer but trying to hide it. Part of him was surprised he’d been so bold, but it was in answer to her question and gave nothing else away.

  “Goodnight, Derk,” was the reply she gave him, though he knew she wanted to say something else. She rolled over in her bed, leaving Derk to watch her blankets rise and fall with her breathing, the rhythm changing once she had indeed fallen asleep. He went back to his card game, winning the first hand and dealing a second. Someone on the other side of the room coughed and a baby woke up and started crying. Derk heard the mother whisper quietly in the dark and bodies shifting before everything went back to being quiet, the only sounds that of gentle breathing and Asa’s snoring. Derk looked over his hand and sighed.

  Another sleepless night.

  Derk leaned against the building, struggling to keep his eyes open. Even with the sun blaring down he was fairly certain he could fall asleep where he stood. But he had to stay awake. They would be leaving tomorrow morning and he had to wake with the rest of them since he would be riding the gelding. The iceleaf he had bought to chew wasn’t helping to keep him awake like the woman said it would. It just made his mouth feel cold when he breathed in. Maybe some food would help him stay awake. With some effort he peeled himself off of the building he was leaning against and plodded down the street, trying to smell something besides iceleaf to tell him where he could find some food.

  He wondered if Asa and Devra were finding everything they needed. He had gone with them to the herb shop after first meal. Sindra had a meeting with the head priestess of the temple, so keeping her company wasn’t an option. The herb shop had been interesting, jars and baskets filled with peculiar smelling plants. Asa and Devra seemed equally interested in the wares, talking to each other and sniffing things. Derk walked up to the woman behind the counter, asking for something to help him stay awake and another to help him sleep. After a few questions she sold Derk the iceleaf and a blend of herbs he was supposed to eat before bed. He left Asa and Devra to their chores, thinking he would get bored following them around. Now he was too bored to stay awake.

  Bluemist was a good sized town, bordering on a city. It was close enough to the Freewild to be the first stop in or out for many a cart or traveler, but not too far out it wouldn’t make it into the territory on a Baron’s Day. Derk yawned as he turned a corner, trying to recall if he needed anything. He had clothes and sewing supplies. The church was sending them with food and gear. His dagger was on him and Old Gam’s meddling tools were tucked away in his belt. Maybe he’d pick up something for Gam, just to soften the blow of his departure. He planned on seeing her again, at least to return her tools. If Gam was true to her word, she wouldn’t save a spot in her bed for him if he was gone. Still, he wanted to remain friends. Maybe a piece of pretty blue fabric for her work. Derk’s stomach rumbled again, demanding it be tended to first so he sniffed the air again, finding a grill stand easily enough.

  “One longfish, please,” he asked, looking around while the woman behind the grill pulled a still living fish out of a bucket, hacking its head off with a cleaver. Derk surveyed the marketplace while the woman continued with her work, the smell of the the fish cooking over the grill making his mouth water. When the fish was done he paid her and took it, glad to see she had put a few slices of onion on the skewer as well.

  Derk ate his food and looked around as he walked through the marketplace. Something glinted out in the corner of his eye at a nearby booth. He watched the person manning the booth call out his wares, a young man a few years younger than Derk crafting more jewelry behind the stall. A customer approached and Derk observed as he and the seller looked over the necklaces and bracelets. He watched as the customer touched the items and how the seller reacted. The seller kept a strong stance as the customer pulled out some money. Only then did the seller retrieve the bracelet which interested the gentleman. Derk watched and noticed how the items were secured on their displays.

  His weariness clashed against his concentration but he noticed one necklace in particular, a white stone set in a small polished piece of wood. It would look pretty hanging around Gam’s neck. Maybe he would wrap it in the blue fabric. To his relief the pendants seemed to be secured on a hook instead of being tied to the top of the booth as some more cautious vendors had them. His lack of sleep was making the world drone around him, like the buzzing of bees and he tried to push the sound away so he could take in everything around him.

  Something brushed against Derk’s leg and startled him
. A cat rubbed back and forth against his leg butting his shin with its head. It was one of those cats the color of embers, black and orange all over with big orange eyes. Derk bent down to scratch the cat and at the same time a pair of city guards walked by, their plain but functional shortswords clanging at their sides. Derk gulped quietly, glad he hadn’t performed the exercise in gift acquiring. Maybe when he was more awake.

  He gave the cat an extra scratch behind its ears, which made it purr so loudly Derk laughed. There was still a bit of fish left so he pulled it off of the stick and held it out to the animal. The cat ate it enthusiastically but not ravenously. It probably received plenty of scraps as well as the mice skittering through the town. Derk wiped his hand on the cat’s back when it was done, pretending he was petting it when he really meant to get the bits of fish off his hand.

  “You should not be petting that animal.” Derk recognized the voice. Jezlen stood in front of Derk, a dark eyebrow cocked in dismay. He wasn’t wearing his sword or his armor but there was still something about him which looked guarded and dangerous. In the light of the summer sun he could see the true grey of Jezlen’s eyes and Derk saw they were about the same height, though Derk was a finger or two taller. Derk stood up and wiped his hands on his trousers, giving the Forester a wry look.

  “And why is that?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

  “They are evil animals,” Jezlen replied. “They kill birds.”

  “And I ate a bird yesterday. What’s your point?” Derk considered the fact he might be too tired to deal with Jezlen but was at a loss as to how to get rid of him. “They kill mice. Mice ruin crops.”

  “Cats kill for pleasure,” Jezlen said. “Mice are only trying to survive.”

  “Are we really having this conversation?” Derk ran his hands through his hair, trying not to groan at Jezlen’s words. “Cats are free spirited. They’re cunning and agile and they don’t just follow orders and wag their tails. Though this one is wagging its tail.” Derk cocked his head to the side and stared at the cat, which was indeed wagging its fat tail back and forth. Derk shook his head and turned his attention back to Jezlen, irate he was still talking to him. “I’m too tired for this!” Derk waved Jezlen away, walking away from him.