"How could these demons have known we have them? It is daft to think their presence drove them here," Serin said.
"In all my days I have never encountered a situation so unusual, though nothing is without reason," said Clancey. "I will seek out Landau once we have all had time to grieve, but for now we cannot be naive to all possibilities. If this gemstone is what they were after then they have failed, meaning there is still a danger they will attempt to acquire it once more."
Clancey closed the chest and pocketed the gemstones before turning to Pollus.
"We can't thank your soldiers enough for saving us, but what will your men do now, what of your duties in Royal?"
"The threat here as you say might still be very real, whether those stones be the reason or not. Though we cannot stay here. We've sent word to Tripple, regardless of their ability to accommodate these villagers, we will travel there as soon as we are ready. Our soldiers will help your people carry their burdens while we escort them safely." Pollus placed a comforting hand on Serin's shoulder. "I would not dally either, the villagers here will be restless enough without having to endure another night in fear of a repeat attack. I only hope our presence will settle them for now. In the meantime, I will make arrangements for our men to find food for the villagers and continue our search for those that are missing. I will update you constantly."
Serin nodded before Pollus escorted Gallus and his soldiers outside, Clancey intervened and thanked his friend once more.
"Your services are appreciated friend. The Queen will surely acknowledge your efforts here. Our two provinces are truly united, there’s no doubt."
Pollus relinquished his serious demeanor for the moment to return a smile.
"When I came here weeks ago you thought I sought to ask for your help." Pollus gestured to the gemstones in his pocket. "Indeed it seems you were right. Do what you can," he said, and returned to the eastern barricade.
Serin joined Clancey by the door, and both overlooked the village in sombre depreciation, for the smell of smoke and death was far from a reminder of what made Porthos special.
"Do you really think those stones are responsible for these fire-spawn coming here?" Serin asked.
"Part of me doubts it Serin, though I’m at ends to explain it. I've got a lifetime of treasures in this place my friend, they didn't even come within a yard of here," Clancey realized, looking upon the stone. "Landau could have had these stones for years, I don't go poking through the kid's personal things, might not even be his. Now's not the time to ask him though, on top of his father he now has the loss of his friends to deal with. If he witnessed what I saw, then his heartache will be great. Remember he's just a kid."
Serin wanted answers but was defeated in his morality.
"The pain is piercing for me also," shedding an unwanted tear. "It's a burden my heart is struggling to carry. I would curse whoever brought this upon us, though no answer would alleviate this misery."
Serin walked out the door and returned to the Whistling Mountain. Memories of the death hounds charging towards him with Serin's kids in reach encumbered Clancey's thoughts, what luck accursed him to survive all these years continued to do so.
As night fell the people gathered atop Whistling Mountain, removed from the destruction of the village below; it was here that Serin opened his home to his villagers left without shelter. Food and blankets were collected from wherever they could muster, and all gathered around the fire outside the Manor to sleep under the stars. Once a place known for celebration was now draped in misery and sadness, for people began to identify who was absent from their presence. Soldiers gathered in the market square, for tomorrow in the wake of dawn they would head to Tripple, and whatever provisions and equipment they could salvage were stacked here. Trunks and crates were strapped to carts, and what barrels of salted fish survived were also secured. Marquee coverings from market stalls were substantial to bundle the supplies, tied to long branches for the Alduainians to shoulder. It was disheartening to see that all the village had remaining was in a small heap in the marketplace.
Inside the Elder's home the food dwindled, Serin had no qualm parting with it to assist his people, while his children sat addled on the stairs uncertain what this meant for them. Despite his misery, Landau found some fortune with the healers who attended to his father to digress the severity of his illness. Once again he could manage a sentence where Landau could now utter so little.
He lay beside his daybed, the shadows of strangers flickered across the room from the fireplace which they massed, yet the surrounding conversations muffled in his ears. Often his attention turned to the front door, observing who had survived the attack as they walked inside, sadly his friends never came. The Elder gave him nothing but stares of which he could not explain, his own stare was entrenched in the fire before him, the scowl he witnessed in the fire-spawn's eyes was stamped in his memory, and the heat from the fireplace did little to deter his thought.
The last of the villagers exited the Manor, allowing Serin to attend to his foundlings.
"Alright children, have you packed your things?" They both nodded. "Good girls. Come on now, let's get you to bed, we have to be up early for our trip to Tripple, you girls will enjoy it I hope, it's not far."
"Is Tim and Elliott coming with us?" Jenny asked.
"We sure hope so," Serin's tone was one of excitement, as though one were expecting an old friend for dinner.
Landau didn't know if the Elder was right in withholding the truth from them, yet aggravated as he was Landau couldn't imagine breaking such horrible news to someone so young. He hopped to his feet to look upon the encampment the Elder's yard had become, a quiet calm drifted across the village, he imagined it was easier to sleep when everyone's heads were heavy with emotion.
"Landau?" the voice from behind startled him. Serin walked down the stairs with a candlestick in hand. "Everything alright lad?"
Landau peered out the window, exhausted in the idea his friends hadn't been found.
"They're gone aren't they?" he muttered, but not in sadness.
Serin could hear the resolve in his words and hung his head low in surrender to admit it. "I believe so, yes."
Even with the Elder's conformation he refused to believe it was true.
"Why did this happen?" said Landau.
"It's not yet clear lad. Rest assured though we'll discover the answers. We’ll find out those responsible."
Serin spoke as if to subtly intimidate a reaction from Landau, but he looked on in disappointment. For a good moment Serin canvassed his demeanor, yet Landau gave no indication he was at fault.
"Don't worry lad, us folk here will band together and find our feet once more. Even in the hardest of times we must endure."
Languidly the villagers toted their belongings north towards Tripple, most of an older age moving at a pace the soldiers on horseback found difficult to keep.
"In all my years in these lands I've never seen this. Needing an armed escort to travel between the farmlands. What times are these?" a grumpy old villager cried out, his voice beleaguered the restless around him. Looking back the smoke had subsided from the village, and the sea was blinding with the sun on the horizon as they crossed the cobblestone bridge and headed north. Talk was minimal, only the soldiers occasionally spoke of affairs that didn't concern the villagers, but little else aside from rumblings and whispered queries. Jenny and Melly rode up front with the Elder while Landau plodded behind with his father toward the rear, who settled in the back of one of the supply carts.
"What's bothering you son?"
Landau looked up, as though his father had disturbed a deep thought.
"Come up here," he gestured, finding the strength to make room for him to sit. "It's hard to lose someone lad I know, it hurts for a long time. I still miss your mother to this day. But despite what we lose in life there's still much to be thankful for. Be grateful for what you have son; the girls, me, yourself. Though your mother is lost to me I
am ever thankful to still have you."
"I was with him dad…Elliott was right beside me," he pouted. "If he'd only followed me he'd be here now."
"He was only trying to protect his brother Landau, I would have done the same thing. Do not confuse courage for stupidity son, Elliott and Tim were fine boys, as long as your memory of them is strong they will never be lost to you entirely."
Whether it was good to hear his father's voice again or his words spoke a truth he realized only now, Landau fashioned a smile. Yet the guilt still plagued him, and he convinced himself it would forever continue.
Clancey soon trotted alongside them, his right arm heavily bandaged from wrist to shoulder, steering Bruiser's reins with his left.
"Nicholas, good to see you've recovered some friend."
"Thank you," he replied. "How's your arm there?"
"I'm lucky to have it to be honest, damn thing looks like a massacre. If it doesn't pain me it itches, if I scratch it the pain returns. A nightmare no less."
"The world frowns on us for the moment it seems."
"And how's little Landau?" he said with less cheer. "Must be good to have your father singing once more?" Landau nodded in silence.
"He's still upset," Nicholas answered. "All the people are, and understandably so. Fishermen aside only few of us have ever left Porthos. To be without the comfort of your own home, it's a hollow thought to wonder what happens next."
"It's alright Landau, Tripple is a great place, your father's birthplace no doubt." Landau nodded again to avoid seeming rude.
"He's been there before, back when I could walk more freely. Never thought we would make our way back there. I feel indifferent on leaving Porthos, in a way returning to Tripple brings me some comfort. Only wish it had come about under more welcome circumstances."
"A lot of big words for a man who struggled to say his name a few days ago," Clancey said happily. "The healers of Alduain are the finest I see." Nicholas grinned at the revelation.
"It is only temporary they say, once the soldiers part ways with us I fear the awful numbness will return. As you can see my body is another matter, I only wish they could fix my appearance also," he jested, pulling at his tattered beard.
Landau listened on while he gazed upon the disfigured coin Clancey had gifted him, he found no humor in his father’s brief well-being, wishing for more to afford his father's cure.
"Put that away lad," Nicholas whispered. "It would dishearten many to see you with it, especially in times like these."
"Indeed," Clancey agreed, and Landau discouragingly pocketed it. "It is your gift Landau. Yours to do with what you like. For now, it is best to keep it hidden."
"What will you do with all your treasures, surely not leave them behind?" asked Nicholas.
"I think they have outgrown their use of gathering dust, it is perhaps time I let them go. Porthos will need much charity to continue on in the times ahead, perhaps that was always meant to be the way of things."
Nicholas nodded in earnest before Clancey trotted ahead of them.
"Good to see him smiling I must admit," said Nicholas.
"No-one else is smiling," Landau noticed. "How can he smile in a time like this?"
"It’s by no means callous son, perhaps these folk need to be reminded of something merry right now. Within a few days he’s lost his farm, his tavern, his arm, his friends, and now he offers to give up his treasures. Almost everything he cherishes has been taken from him, yet he holds himself bravely. You can’t imagine what he must be feeling inside, in comparison we should think ourselves fortunate to all that he’s lost."
Landau was sick to think of it, Clancey and his father had suffered more pain that he could imagine, yet they still clung to optimism like faith.
"Things that are lost can be found again. Maybe everything that dies someday will come back, right dad?" the thought riled optimism of his own, though Nicholas gave no discouraging word.
"Maybe son."
The trip was arduous, and by day one they had stopped at the small village of Huorn, a heptad of farms that surrounded a blacksmith and inn. Withered fences were overwhelmed by towering grass, and across the meadows they lay their bedrolls, yet few found sleep and less felt cheer to drink from their barrels of mead. The absence of the sea was strange for many, cattle cast moving shadows in the night and only further unsettled them, for the attack was fresh in their mind, and they nor the soldiers were comfortable that the threat had gone.
Day four and the hills rolled on for many miles where arms of meadow grass waved from the turf in the light breeze. Here the trees were absent, and the horizon revealed much in each direction. The soldiers took comfort knowing danger could not sneak upon them, yet villagers remained irresolute, and no view to admire could alter their insecurity. Legs became weary, especially for the elderly, and the sheer number of their company often forced their speed to dawdle. The apprehension eased by night, for they constructed camp in the open expanse of the Bald Hills and hours from any town. Landau could not sleep, for he missed the sound and smell of the sea, the warmth and laughter of the tavern, and a home where bad dreams were never invasive.
Next to his sleeping father he surveyed the soldiers, void of much conversation. People were tucked under blankets and bedrolls and rested by the warmth of the campfire, the soft crackling of its flames was inspiriting yet roaring in the silence, and occasionally startled the guards. Across the way he recognized Clancey's friend who joined the soldiers in their scout and patrol. For a moment Landau's eyes caught his, and Pollus returned the stare, he was the only villager awake after all. His gaze of scrutiny barely shifted and made Landau uneasy, for what welcome smile he offered Clancey was not afforded him, and before long he rolled over to be rid of his glaring eyes, yet even now he felt their scrutiny upon him.
The pounding of hammer on anvil was the first sound Landau heard, soon drowned out by the water mill by the Ayrie river that flowed through the town of Tripple. Larger than Porthos and specializing in lumber, the town was open and void of any alleys, the few prominent roads within were cluttered with unkempt grasses and old foliage. Here townsfolk had choice in their bakers and butchers; inns and taverns were scarce throughout the town, though none were as homely as the 'Barrel'.
All buildings were constructed of wood, and their craftsmanship was intricate and precise to behold, only the mill was crafted upon a base of stone. No house towered higher than one story, only inns gave height to two, in the center of town however within a triangular stretch of grass was the home of Sabjorn the Elder, whose house reached three stories, fenced with beautiful gardens that were absent from the rest of town.
On the outskirts the folks of Tripple glared from windows and doorways at their approach from the south, and none bore them any welcome.
Pollus and his son dismounted their horses and proceeded into town while the rest of the villagers crossed the bridge to the eastern side of the river. There a field of stumps was all that remained, only in the horizon did the trees dwell aloft and whole. The smell of pine and oak was strong, and the sound of saw on wood was always present, and beside the lumber mill dozens of trunks were piled, ready to be sliced and sanded. Nicholas was reminiscent of his days here, and recalled to Landau of a time the trees came to the river. The soldiers were generous to assemble their tents and the villagers were quickly designated areas to settle.
Landau and his father were the last to arrive, the soldiers aided Nicholas from the cart into a tent by the river, their belongings remained in sacks, for the space was sparse. With the stable inadequate to accompany the soldiers' horses, villagers were forced to share the land with the Alduainians and their mounts. People reacquainted with their possessions and before long the villagers were busy choosing their neighbors. Clancey was nowhere to be seen, though Landau discovered the Elder nearby, his tent no bigger than the rest of them.
"I'm going to find Jenny," he told his father.
"Don't go far," he warned, before Land
au could escape.
Nicholas managed to pull himself from the tent in full view of the lumber mill, captivated by the inveterate atmosphere. He reached back to obtain a blanket but lost his balance, his legs like iron as he hoisted himself from the ground.
"Let me help you up sir," a soldier offered, grabbing his hand to jerk him upward.
"Thank you. I was reaching for my blanket, the breeze is cold off the river." Two more soldiers arrived and placed an iron chest at the foot of his tent flap.
"That's my old chest," he recognized with surprise.
The soldier provided him the blanket before walking off. Nicholas shuffled over and placed both hands on the chest, yet with all his available strength it would not budge, instead he dragged himself to sit atop the lid, much more comfortable than the terrain.
The girls were perched by the river when Landau arrived, though the river was deeper than the slippery stream, and Melly could see the Elder frown at their closeness to it, for it swelled at a ferocious pace.
"Landau when can we go home again, the Elder won't tell us?" Jenny asked.
"My dad says it could be weeks before we go back, but he's not sure. Nobody's saying much. It's only while they fix the village Jenny."
"Come on it'll be fun up here," Melly added. "I even heard they're going to have a feast here tonight," hoping it would divert her attention.
"Clancey has been in town since we arrived, I haven't seen him. That friend of his looks at me none too kindly, makes me wonder what he’s told him about me."
Landau could see the confusion in Jenny's face, confused on whether to be upset or overjoyed to be here.
"Heard there's gonna be singing 'round the fire tonight, that'll be exciting yeah?" tickling Jenny in her hip. "You gonna sing a song for us?" he joked.
"No," she smiled.
"NO! Well how 'bout a dance then?"
From across the river between tickles Landau noticed two men stride into town on noble horses, one looked roughly Timothy's age, the other appeared very highborn, armored and robed with velvet thick as his beard; stitched into its center was a thin golden circle with two staves that crossed in the middle like an X. Landau was curious of their appearance, yet Melly's attention fixed on the modest amount of people that inhabited the eastern riverbed.
The Secret of Azuron (The Sword Empire Book 1) Page 10
