As she glided through the dim halls of Moonrest on her way to her cavernous bedchambers, Calistra realized that she was nervous about the upcoming action. It was unlike her to get butterflies before an engagement, and she chalked it up to having to rely so much on Drejth for a crucial component.
She still wasn’t sure exactly what the wraith had in mind, but was assured that it would deliver a heart strike to the king’s reign. It had to be enough, for now. She had every intention of wrangling the truth from the old ghost before all was said and done.
As she glided into her room, she immediately went to her bureau and unstopped a decanter of bourbon. As she poured herself a short glass, she again berated herself over her nerves. She was acting like a schoolgirl, anxious before her first time playing hooky.
She swallowed it down in two gulps and enjoyed the pleasant burn that began to spread through her chest. It momentarily made her forget her misgivings.
For that must be what it was, she told herself. She couldn’t face the nagging sensation that her father would never have approved of her course of action. She fought down the sentiment as soon as it formed. She did what she did for Lockhaven, for her family name. Nothing else mattered.
The unanswered questions regarding Drejth’s plan brought up a red flag in her mind, that was all. She forced herself to tamp it down; the rewards were too great to lose nerve now.
She dismissed her diminutive chamber maid after the elderly woman had turned down her bed.
As the baroness began to slip off to sleep, she contented herself with thoughts of ascending to the throne of Freehold, surrounded by her retinue, to the adulation of her people…
Chapter 14
“What does it mean, Dramus?”
The question was both simple and loaded. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from the book, and he wasn’t sure how to answer her. She became more uncomfortable in the silence. Her excitement at presenting the gift was slowly turning sour.
He had turned the book over and was reading the back cover, even through the wear of ages the print showed clearly, white on black. What he read sent chills through his body.
“I…” he was unsure how to continue.
He looked up at her and then quickly back to the book. He reached out for her hand, taking comfort in her touch as she grasped it. She guided him to the fallen log and they both sat. Dramus looked at her again and this time held her gaze.
“I’ve seen this symbol before, Gwinny,” he spoke barely above a whisper, as if the woods had ears.
He paused again, still trying to digest the lingering message of his gift. To her credit, the merchant’s daughter waited for him to continue, sensing something important was about to happen.
Dramus struggled with a decision. How much of the workings of the temple should he tell her? Wouldn’t any mention of the Vault of Secrets betray everything he’d been taught? Even if not, wouldn’t it just increase the danger for all of them?
Then again, she was a good friend, and more. She had welcomed him without conditions and loved him earnestly. The feelings she engendered clouded his judgment to be sure, but so be it. He’d found more in their short love affair than he’d ever been given in his years at the temple.
“In the temple, deep underground there is a place where we’re forbidden to go - only the headmaster brought me there once. It’s called the Vault of Secrets.”
She widened her eyes just slightly at the mention of the ominous name, but quickly recovered. She leaned toward him slightly, engrossed in his voice. Gwyneth understood on some level that Dramus needed to tell her this, but that it was hard for him to do so.
“The Vault holds knowledge deemed too dangerous for mankind to use. The door is made of some metal I’ve never seen before, and there are strange markings inscribed into it.
“The headmaster had me use my gift to translate the symbols and glyphs on the door, and this” he flipped the book over and tapped the yellow circle, “this symbol was among them.”
Gwyneth looked at the book as he tapped it, growing uneasy. She shivered as a chill wind stirred the trees around them. Dramus stared at her for a moment before continuing.
“The symbol denotes the presence of something called radiation. It’s a power source, or a weapon, or both…I’m not sure.”
Sometimes his gift worked like that; it would be incredibly specific in some cases, vague in others. He’d yet to master its use. Still, he felt he had gotten the right bead on this particular symbol. He wasn’t sure why, but he was sure.
“It means…it means that beneath the temple lays something that could do unspeakable damage, possibly a weapon - one that could wipe whole cities off the map. I don’t know why the Order keeps this stuff.”
He stopped, remembering some of the other symbols on the door. Again he made eye contact with Gwyneth. Her eyes were wide and she seemed almost as if she wanted to bolt from the clearing. Dramus reached out a steadying arm.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m sorry I scared you,” he showed her a wan smile, wishing he could put on more of a show for her.
“Why do you stay there, Dramus? If you know there is something like this beneath the temple, why don’t you leave?”
“I’m sure there’s a good reason, hell, probably many good reasons that the Order keeps these things. Besides, it’s been there since the temple was built, that’s thousands of years.”
He smiled for her, actually beginning to gain confidence from his reasoning.
“The door was incredibly solid. I’m not sure twenty men could move it. And besides, I’ve lived there my whole life and never knew it existed until Colius took me down there.
“There probably is no safer place in all the Realm than right where it is.”
He stroked her arm reassuringly, and it seemed to calm her. Still, she hugged herself against the spring air and looked away. She’d known of his gift, of course, it’s why she’d brought the book. She just hadn’t imagined that it would turn out so badly.
Suddenly, she stood.
“I’m sorry, Dramus. I shouldn’t have brought you that stupid book.”
She frowned down at it, as though to communicate to it her disappointment.
“I thought it would be exciting; you using your gift to read me the book. Now I don’t even want to look at it.”
He stood with her, leaving the book on the fallen log. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled her into an embrace. He looked up, his chin on her head and noticed the sun had been swallowed by the clouds. He cursed the weather for adding to the drama.
“It’s not that bad, Gwyn. It’s just a book.”
She nodded ever so slightly against his chest. He felt her squeeze him tighter before letting him go.
“I should get back,” she sighed. Her smile for him seemed tired.
“No, Gwyn…”
She shook her head, adamant.
“It’s not this, Dramus,” she waved her hand in a circle, encompassing the two of them and the book.
“I’ve got to get back before father misses me. I didn’t have a chance to set things up like I normally would. He’ll be wondering what’s going on.”
She pulled up the hood of her cloak while he made protests. She wouldn’t have it, and strode from the clearing, leaving him alone with the book.
Dramus stood for a moment, his mood matching the gloom that had moved in on the day. He had been so excited to see her, and now she was gone. He turned and regarded the book.
Picking it up, he marveled again at how it seemed so well-preserved. It had to be as old as the temple, maybe older, and yet it seemed as if it could have been on someone’s shelf in the village for merely a few years. He’d forgotten to ask her where her father had found it, but he supposed it was moot now. He wasn’t going to bring it up when he saw her next.
A clue to its remarkable state was the strange material that it was composed of. Not paper, but paper-like. The pages and jacket were made of a supple, yet strangely smooth material
Dramus hadn’t seen before. He couldn’t actually bend the pages, and noticed not a single tear. It gave him goosebumps.
The trip back to the temple was longer, as he walked slowly, flipping through the book and second-guessing his decision to tell Gwyneth about the Vault. He supposed there was nothing for it now. He just wished that he had more self-control around her.
The book was interesting, if a bit beyond his ken. It spoke of the threat of something called thermonuclear war, and the words brought images of unspeakable destruction to Dramus’s mind. After a mile or so he forced himself to stash the book under his arm. It was getting too disturbing.
He managed to slip back into the temple without being stopped by anyone. The gardeners had moved inside as the chill had settled in. He returned to his chambers and set the book down on his desk. He quickly put his robe back on and thought about going to the kitchens and grabbing something to eat.
He opened the door and started. Headmaster Colius was on the other side, as if he had been waiting there for Dramus to open the door. The thought was strange and silly. Still, Dramus wouldn’t put it past him.
“Hiltsman,” the man’s voice was odd, but Dramus put it up to the likelihood that Colius was in a mood.
“We’re leaving. Get your things.”
Dramus blinked.
“Leaving? What do you mean, Headmaster?”
There was a moment where Colius’s eyes seemed to dim, the lids descending halfway for a moment before fluttering open. He smiled his wormy smile.
“You don’t have to settle for little jaunts in the hills anymore. I need you to accompany Erick and me to Galloway.”
Dramus reeled. Galloway? It was many leagues away, a port city. He was both elated and nonplussed. Why would they be taking such a lengthy journey? He asked the man as much.
Again with the strange eye motion. Colius dropped the smile and assumed his annoyed look that he so often used with Dramus.
“We have been asked to trade materials with a sect in the city. Our delegation will bring books and scrolls and we shall exchange them for new, exotic materials. I need you to come along to help us determine that what we trade for is of value to us.”’
It made sense. Sometimes the monks would exchange materials with other monasteries or temples that dotted the Realm.
With Dramus’s power, he often asked to accompany such expeditions. Usually Colius had refused. He wondered what was different this time, but wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I’ll be ready in just a moment,” he told the headmaster. The corpulent man nodded.
“Good. Meet us outside in ten minutes. Don’t dawdle, page.”
With that, he left.
Dramus stood in the doorway and tried to contain his excitement. He darted back into his chambers and started to pack his rucksack. He was going to Galloway! The port city was huge, several times the size of Akilo. He couldn’t wait to see the skyline against the sea.
He turned and his gaze ran across the book on his desk. He felt a pang. Gwyneth wouldn’t be pleased if he didn’t say goodbye. It would probably look like he’s known when they’d met in the clearing, and didn’t say.
Come to think of it, with an expedition of this length, Colius had to have known earlier when they’d talked in Dramus’s study. Why had the headmaster not informed him then? It would have ensured that Dramus would have been ready in plenty of time.
He shook his head. Truth be told, he was too excited to worry about the details. Even his concern about the Vault of Secrets was shoved into to a dark corner of his mind by the elation he was feeling.
On a cocky impulse, he dropped the old book into his rucksack. Perhaps he’d have a chance to do some reading on the road to Galloway.
Ten minutes later (barely), he was in the courtyard of the temple, dressed in his traditional robes but sporting a travelling cloak. He wore his boots instead of the standard acolyte’s sandals and he wore a leather belt instead of his simple rope.
Colius was sitting at the head of a large covered wagon. Two draft horses were hitched to it, and several acolytes were hurriedly shuttling supplies into the back. Again, Dramus had to wonder at the timing of this trip. Had it been thrown together at the last moment?
Colius was staring at him. Dramus’s skin shivered. He adjusted the weight of his rucksack and made for the back of the wagon.
“Leave your sack in the back, Hiltsman, and then join me up here,” Colius’s voice dripped with disdain.
Dramus wasn’t thrilled about spending the day seated in such close proximity to the man he loathed most, but complied. He climbed up onto the bench and pulled his cloak about him. Colius didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence.
Finally, the last of the supplies were loaded, and the headmaster gave a sharp flap to the reigns. The draft horses cantered forward and several monks moved to open the wooden gates of the temple courtyard.
As they passed under the stone arch to begin their long trek, Dramus felt the first drops of rain on his hood.
Chapter 15
The Whetstone Inn was a fixture in the border town of Ormery. It was the largest building in town, something that the mayor lamented often and usually loudly when in his cups.
It was rumored to have been constructed from the bones of an old keep that had fallen into disrepair after the eastern border of the Realm of Men had pushed further toward the Holdwalls.
This was likely, as more than any other building in the small town it was constructed of cut stone blocks. The upper floors were wood and plaster, but the entirety of the ground floor was stone.
The rest of the homes and shops of the village seemed to crowd close to the inn in the cold rain that was steadily soaking the main road into mud. Smoke curled from several brick chimneys and hung low in the cold air.
A welcoming warm glow seeped from the windows of the inn’s common room, inviting travelers to stop by and dry the damp from their clothes and the chill from their bones.
Hade wiped rain from his eyes and frowned. He glanced at his companions. They were all looking at the town as well, curiosity plain on their fine-featured faces. The group stood on the side of the road leading west into town. The weather wasn’t helping his mood any, but it was spring and there was nothing for it.
He hoped there was something he could do for the situation they were in, however. He rubbed his sore arm and turned back to the inn. He desperately wanted to get out of the cold and the wet, but he wasn’t sure how the folk of the town would react to his…exotic new friends. He stepped closer to the princess.
“Prince-er…Ethelrynne,” he stuttered, still getting used to calling her by her name and not her title.
“I think you and I should approach first; give the folk a chance to see that they have nothing to worry about before the others arrive.”
He looked at the rangers as he finished, noting their taciturn expressions, strange armor, and obvious weaponry. If they just came waltzing in, he wondered, would the townsfolk assume that the elves were part of an advanced force set on invasion?
He liked to think that humans would be accepting of some elves visiting, but it had been a long time since any of the Fair Folk had been seen within the Realm. He needed to be sure.
She nodded, “I agree. Let’s get this over with so my men don’t have to stand out here in the rain all night.”
They walked together down the road in awkward steps, trying not to slip in the mud.
Actually, Hade noticed as they went along, it was just him that was sloshing clumsily along. The elf seemed to glide along as if on a carpeted floor. She always glided along, and almost never made a sound. It simultaneously amazed him and inspired jealousy.
Hade had spent most of his life as a woodsman and frontier soldier, but he possessed only a fraction of woods lore that he’d seen displayed by the elves over the last two days.
They were uncanny bowmen, moved without noise and with barely a trace, and despite the flora and fauna of the Re
alm of Men being different than what they were used to, they knew the properties of more plants than Hade even knew the names of. He’d made a point to absorb all he could of their easy competence.
They approached the wide oak door of the inn, which was set beneath a sign depicting a blade sharpened across a block. Hade began to have his doubts.
What if the people took her presence badly? What if he botched the introductions and everything went to hell? He supposed it was too late to worry now. Taking a breath, he opened the door for the princess.
As Ethelrynne entered the cavernous common room she pulled back her hood. Hade followed her in and shut the door quietly behind them both.
At first, only a few patrons near the door even noticed that someone new had entered the room. As the duo made their way toward the bar at the back, however, more and more heads turned to watch them.
Hade fought down the urge to panic as he noticed many of the simple folk widen their eyes and suck in a breath. He imagined a mob of backwater bumpkins swarming the princess and dragging her down to the floor…
He felt a hand squeeze his arm and he turned to Ethelrynne. She gave a stern look, with just the hint of a smile touching her lips. She nodded almost imperceptibly toward the bar and gently guided him along, as if she sensed his rising unease. He was taken aback by the strength of her grip.
No one accosted them. The general background hubbub seemed to quiet by the time they reached the bar, but no one made any move against them. Hade awkwardly nodded to the burly barkeep as he tried to lean nonchalantly upon the bar.
“Evenin’ my good man,” he said, smiling through his wet beard.
The man behind the bar nodded to him, but kept his eyes on the elf. He showed no alarm or distrust, but his eyes were glued to her just the same. He continued to wipe a glass mug with meaty hands.
An uncomfortable silence passed before he tore his eyes from the princess to acknowledge the soldier. Hade held his breath.
“Be two silver for you and…yer friend to stay in the stables.” It was a challenge.
Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) Page 10
