“Please, my friend, ask away,” Olam said, reaching for what was left of his fish supper.
“You said you didn’t fully understand why he only remembers you, but you do have an idea why.”
Olam laughed. “You are indeed a guardsman, Daric, and a man of sharp wit, if I may say so.” Olam bowed towards Daric, who returned the gesture. “Yes, you are right. I have an idea why he remembers me, but that is an entirely different story and one I shall keep to myself, perhaps for another day.”
“As you wish,” Daric said. “I won’t impose, sir.”
“So when you say mystery,” Grady asked, “what do you mean, exactly? What answers do you seek?”
“The same answers to the questions you asked yourself the moment you saw him, Grady,” Olam answered. “Where does he come from? Does he have kin? What of his homeland? All the simple things every living soul should have answers to.”
“Why is he so big?” Ealian asked.
“Ealian!” Elspeth starred scornfully at her brother and then slapped him about the shoulder. “That is just rude.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s a perfectly legitimate question.”
Arfael let out a deep, slow laugh that filled the camp. Even the ground seemed to shudder under his monotonic chuckle. The sound of the giant’s apparent amusement delighted the Albergeddians, as if, despite his size and his obvious differences, he was really just a simple soul, not unlike themselves. They all joined in with him.
“Have you visited Bailryn?” Daric asked amidst the laughter. “Surely, the capital would be the place to look for answers. There are almost as many folk living there as in the rest of Aleras combined. Well, if you include the outer villages.” Daric’s laughter quietened to a staggered chortle as he saw the effect his question had on Arfael.
Rafael’s shoulders dropped. He bit his lip and looked pensively at Olam.
The travellers fell silent, too.
Olam spoke. “We have had, shall we say, some bad experiences when around large groups of people. The human predilection for fearing what they do not understand tends to get in the way of meaningful discourse.”
“Uh?” Gialyn scratched his head. He gazed vacantly at Olam. “I didn’t understand any of that.”
“He means people can be stupid,” Daric said. “I’m sorry if I brought up painful memories, Arfael. Please accept my apology.” Daric addressed Arfael directly.
Arfael nodded. “No harm done, sir.”
“Can we go back to the age thing?” Elspeth asked. “Do you know how old you are?” She directed her question at Arfael.
Arfael shook his head. “Not sure. At the cave since I woke up. I think it was a long time,” he said in his usual single-syllable manner.
Olam helped answer Elspeth’s question. “He lived at Barais’gin for a good thirty years before I found him. At least, that is as far as the locals could recollect.”
“Well, that would make you at least eighty,” Elspeth said. She put a hand to her chest and looked agape at the others. “By the gods, I hope I look that good when I’m—uh… Not that I… or that… Oh, never mind.” She covered her face in embarrassment.
Elspeth’s stumbling statement brought the camp back to laughter.
Arfael sat with a smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked a man out of place among friends, looked as though sharing laughter and companionship were as alien to him as he was to the rest of the travellers.
Daric was laughing, too. Not merely because of Elspeth’s embarrassment, but at the place he found himself. This is good, he thought. Maybe this trip was the right thing to do after all, the right thing for Gialyn! Yet, just as he felt most content with his lot, a doubt entered his mind. He caught a glance shared between Olam and Arfael, a moment’s hint at some hidden secret, perhaps, or mutual understanding, as if some hidden dread had passed between them. Daric quickly dismissed his apprehension, as being the makings of his suspicious nature, yet the thought and feeling would return often during that first night.
As for the rest of them, the night passed quickly. The previous day’s emotional toil—as well as the tiredness of their limbs—left them with little defence against the fast-approaching slumber. Ealian and Elspeth spoke for a brief while before turning in. Daric and Grady spent some time checking supplies. Olam and Arfael went through what for them was probably a well-rehearsed ritual of sleeping under the stars.
The camp settled and all went soundly off to sleep. Only Gialyn lay restless for a while, partly, perhaps, because of his vicinity to Elspeth’s bed, partly at remembering the sound of his mother’s tears. He tossed, turned, and rearranged his blanket at least a dozen times before sleep finally, mercifully, caught him.
CHAPTER 8
Olam’s Blessing
Gialyn woke to the sounds of laughter. Rising to see what the fuss was about, he was surprised to see Elspeth emerging from the trees with two rabbits and something that looked like a large pigeon all tied onto a thumb-thick length of elm. Obviously, she had woken up early and gone hunting for breakfast. The smile on her face showed pride—if not a little arrogance—in her accomplishment. She bowed her head in false modesty at the smiles she received. “Wonderful,” Gialyn muttered quietly, “I’m on an adventure with the warrior princess.”
To Gialyn’s surprise, she had skinned, portioned, and cleaned one of the rabbits before he’d even managed to pack up his bedroll. There she is, leaning over a fire, cooking rabbit portions. Here I am, struggling to tie a piece of string. Gialyn shook his head. Oh well, maybe she is scared of spiders or something. A wry grin of futile hope creased his lips. He shook it off.
Elspeth cooked the rabbit for twenty minutes. She set the pan of rabbit portions by the fire to keep it warm. She had all her cooking tools laid neatly around her. Leaning back, she dragged a waterskin from the pile near the firewood. Pouring the water into a large kettle, she asked, “Does anybody want any?” Sitting back on her heels, she gazed around before fixing her attention on Olam.
“Ah… rabbit… A bit much for me in the morning, my dear,” Olam said. “But I wouldn’t mind some tea, and if there is honey…”
“I will have some rabbit.” Ealian was still in bed. He raised his hand while quickly kicking down his blanket.
“Yes, count me in, too, Elspeth.” Grady shouted his request up from the stream, where he was busy having a wash.
“Do you want any, Mr. Arfael?” Arfael was eating more of the cheese-like substance he’d brought with him. His mouth was full of it. Elspeth got a shake of the head and a hint of a thank you salutation.
“Where has Mr. Re’adh got to?” Elspeth peered around the camp, looking for Daric.
“I’m here.” Daric emerged from the trees, holding a rabbit of his own—he had laid a snare the previous night. His shoulders sank as his eye turned to what Elspeth was busy doing. “Seems we do not need this one,” he said, holding up a much smaller rabbit than those Elspeth had caught.
“Put it there with the other, Mr. Re’adh. I will prepare and salt it. I suppose we can have a stew for supper, if nobody minds rabbit twice a day. Which reminds me… Did anyone bring a stewing pot?”
Olam raised a hand; his mouth was full, too. He pointed over to the base of the huge pack Arfael carried. Elspeth smiled at site of the large iron pot tied to the runner.
“Well, there we are, then, all set,” Daric said. He looked over towards Grady. “We might as well go home, friend.” He shrugged, as though suddenly feeling superfluous.
“Yes, the girl certainly knows her way around a camp, that’s for sure!” Grady said.
Gialyn sighed in annoyance. Not only was he feeling useless, nobody had asked him if he wanted any breakfast. I suppose I should get a fish out of the pack… again! No sooner had he leaned down to open up his father’s provision bag…
“Here, Gialyn, I have made yours,” Elspeth said with a smile that gave him a start. “Come sit by the fire.”
“Oh… err… Thank you, E
lspeth.” Gialyn unconsciously scrubbed his fingers through his hair and wiped his palms on his breeches before quickly moving to sit by her. He picked up the plate Elspeth had made for him. “Fried rabbit and onion, with… Is that bread?” He pointed at a mass of food on the edge of his plate.
“No, silly, it is moss!”
“Moss?” Gialyn’s voice rose as much as his eyebrows dipped.
“Yes. Fenna Moss. It is a bit like lettuce, but stringy… and a bit more bitter. It grows all over the northern vales, especially close to the mountains. I thought you would know that!” Her response was half explanation, half sarcasm. She couldn’t help herself, any excuse for showing off. She could be ugly at times, despite her perfect smile.
“We have only lived here for two years; there isn’t much moss in Bailryn,” Gialyn said.
“Oh yes, I forgot you came from the capital.” She swallowed a sigh, knowing she had missed her target.
Daric and Grady sat down around the fire and gave each other a consenting nod over the quality of Elspeth’s cooking. “At least we won’t be running out of food anytime soon,” Daric said.
Elspeth rebounded quickly, looking very pleased with herself. She had always enjoyed being the centre of attention. It must have suited her ego to no end to have compliments from the likes of Daric and Grady.
“Ealian, are you a hunter like your sister?” Grady asked.
“Me? Oh no,” Ealian said. He could barely hold on to a laugh, or the food in his mouth. He wiped his chin with a napkin that he produced from somewhere up his sleeve. “I leave that to my sister. There is enough competition in our house without treading on someone else’s toes.”
Elspeth gave Ealian a disapproving look.
Grady raised an eyebrow at the two of them. Gialyn was surprised he didn’t take the opportunity to dig a little deeper. His “uncle” was always one for poking in his nose, quite the opposite of Daric.
Morning was passing quickly. With all the talk, breakfast took almost an hour. By the time they’d finished their food, the sun had risen well into the branches of the tall birch and elm. Daric and Grady packed the provisions. Gialyn and Ealian reluctantly followed instructions to clean away their mess and bury the fire. Olam and Arfael did whatever it was that Olam and Arfael usually did in the morning. Elspeth gathered her cooking things and went down to the stream to wash them.
Kneeling by the bank, Elspeth dipped the pans into the fast-flowing waters. A quick swish around with a rough cloth was enough to remove the grease. She gathered the plates, packed up her fork and spoon, and was about to leave when she heard the noise of tiny feet patter behind her.
Leaning back on her heels, she turned to look, expecting to see a rabbit or maybe a small deer. Nothing, just a few wild berry bushes mingled amongst patches of nettle and dot-leaf. She was about to shrug it off as her imaginings… There it is again! What is that? She turned quickly, knelt up high, and peered over a berry bush. Her jaw dropped to her chest. Her eyes bulged in wonderment. Olam knelt by the stream, surrounded on all sides by creatures of the forest.
Elspeth gulped in astonishment. By the gods, what? The pan fell from her grip. She quickly saved it before it rolled into the stream. Settling her belongings on the ground, she raised her head again, half expecting to see the animals gone, scared by the noise of the clattering pan.
Olam sat, cross-legged, palms to the air. His eyes half-closed and his head tilted back. Slowly, he opened his eyes and smiled at the animals gathered around him. A rabbit sat in the nook of his hip, another pushed itself under his elbow, a small deer stood nose-to-cheek by his side, and a tree fox lay sprawled on its side a foot in front of where he sat. Most surprisingly of all, fish seemed to have gathered in the waters in front of where he sat.
Suddenly, Elspeth gasped. Fear shone in her eyes. She held her breath at the sight of a huge timber wolf. The great grey beast hesitated a moment, sniffing the air. Maybe it was confused. It didn’t look ready to pounce nor run. Elspeth eyed the other animals, expecting them to run off, but none appeared to care that the ferocious beast had come to their side; in fact, the deer turned and poked the wolf’s cheek with its tiny nose.
Elspeth stood slowly. She wore a smile full of awe. “No wonder he didn’t want rabbit for breakfast,” she muttered. Suddenly she felt ashamed. Gods, I just killed some of them!
Olam leaned back, his eyes following the wolf as it made a small circle around him. Elspeth shuddered as the man realised she was there. He smiled gently and waved her over. Is he kidding? I’m not going over there with that wolf! She shook her head nervously and gave a faint smile, gesturing anxiously towards the wolf. He smiled again.
“It is all right, child. They won’t hurt you, I promise.” He beckoned her again.
Slowly and as quietly as she could, she stepped over the pans and plates and crept forward. The wolf turned and stared. She froze but then relaxed. Something about the look in the wolf’s eye—he looked no more dangerous than the little deer. Again she crept, pushing the branches gently out of the path as she made her way to Olam.
She stopped two paces short. This will do, I think. Quietly, she crossed her legs and sat.
As if ordered by Olam, one of the rabbits came to her and nestled itself in the pit she made with her crossed legs. Looking up at Olam, she couldn’t help a low laugh. Shaking her head in disbelief, she gave another chuckle. The rabbit circled around in her lap and came to rest with its head lying on her calf. She gave the little creature a tickle behind the ear. Still laughing, she raised an eye to the other animals. The smile dropped from her face. Her lip trembled. The wolf was moving towards her.
Elspeth gazed in terror at Olam. No! Not this. The rabbit is fine, but not this! As if it had heard her thoughts, the wolf stopped. It crouched down on all fours and lowered its head almost to the ground. It inched one paw at a time closer to where she sat. Nervously, she put out her hand. When the wolf reached her, it lay on its side, as though it wanted petting. Elspeth dared to give it a scratch under its chin. The wolf groaned with pleasure and twisted itself onto its back.
Elspeth looked up at Olam with a tear of joy and awe in her eye. “How?”
“It is a blessing,” Olam said.
Gialyn came dashing through the bush. He froze upon seeing the wolf in front of Elspeth.
The wolf raised its head and then quickly ran off to the east. The other animals left just as quickly, darting off in all directions. The rabbits scurried under the wild berry bushes, the deer leaped the stream and disappeared behind a line of low trees, and the fox spun in a circle before following the rabbits.
“Gialyn!” Elspeth stood, turned, barged him out of the way, and made for the camp.
“What? Who—what is going on?”
Olam slowly stood. Brushing the leaves from his cloak, he spoke. “Soft feet are always best in a forest, my boy,” he said, following Elspeth down the track.
“Uh… forest? It is barely half a mile long. This is no forest.” His reply drifted down the track. No answer came from either Olam or Elspeth. Spinning quickly, as though remembering the wolf, Gialyn ran off after the others. “Wait for me… Olam!”
* * *
The camp was packed, the ground cleared. Everyone was standing patiently. No one had yet mentioned a plan for the day; perhaps they expected Olam to suggest the route—after his fine performance the previous afternoon. He certainly had their focus. Even Daric looked at him expectantly. “Well then, Olam. What’s in store for us today?” he asked.
Olam bowed. “We continue east, sir. The path is much the same for the next three days—plentiful water, good, firm, flat ground underfoot. Well, fairly flat… just a few small hills maybe.”
The travellers started to follow Olam as he led the way out of the trees and along the east path. Arfael was already waiting by the ford; he knew the way as well as Olam.
“So what happens after the third day?” Gialyn asked.
Olam smiled. “You are an eager young man, Gialyn.
I wouldn’t be in such a rush were I you. In three days, we should arrive at the Am’bieth, or the ‘Western Marshes’ as it is known in Bailryn.” Olam turned to Gialyn. “You are from Bailryn, are you not? I’m usually quite good with accents.”
Gialyn nodded. “Yes. But it’s not my accent you recognised. I would bet you heard me tell Elspeth this morning.”
Olam threw his head back in a laugh. “You will make a good guardsman, young man. But to be fair, you do have a strong eastern accent.”
Ealian looked none-too-pleased about Olam’s compliment. Either that or annoyed he was left out. “So what is wrong with the marsh, then?” he asked. “I’ve heard say it is dangerous.”
“Do you want to answer that one, Daric?” Olam turned his head towards Daric and gave him a strong stare.
Daric knew Olam must have sensed him watching. Knew he must have known Elspeth would have told him about the wolf. Olam couldn’t be that blind. Who are you, Olam? What are you?
“I’ll answer that!” Grady’s sudden shout woke Daric from his thoughts. Grady went on. “It’s a stinking hole, blight on the landscape, a curse, a filthy pit of doom!”
Daric huffed at Grady’s description, yet at the same time, a crease of a smile crossed his lips. He knew Grady had a reason to dislike the Am’bieth. “The marsh is arduous, and it can be bad tempered! Or at least seem so,” he said. “It will catch you if you do not respect it and leave you facing weeks of torment. However, that won’t happen to us. We will enter with a full day, even if we have to wait a half day at its edge. A full day will see us to the Bienn Oasis. Another full march to Am’cherc and after that, a final hard day and we’re out of it.
“I don’t much like the sound of that,” Ealian said. “It is hard marching through a marsh, surely!”
Daric tried to reassure the boy. “It is not as bad as it seems. This time of year the ground is fairly solid underfoot.”
Grady was not so reassuring. “A few years back, I had to all but drag myself the last seven miles. Took me a week! Just pray it does not rain while we’re in there. I for one will be glad when it is behind us. That’s for sure!”
The Call of the Crown (Book 1) Page 10
