Harbinger

by Shae Ford

  No, he didn’t have the slightest clue. And he certainly didn’t want to hear the innkeeper’s advice. But he could only manage an “Uh —” before he pounded his rough hand on the table and declared:

  “You tell her. You get off your rump and you let her know that she’s the prettiest, most wonderful —”

  “Sir —”

  “— amazing woman you ever laid eyes on! Then you just scoop her up in your arms and give her a kiss, real passionate-like.”

  “I don’t think —”

  “Well of course you can, boy! Sure it takes a bit of courage. But it’s worth it, ain’t it? And,” he dropped his voice again, “a girl as pretty as yours isn’t going to wait around forever. There’s plenty of boys out there — handsome boys — who’d be happy to take her off your hands. Men like you and me, well, we’ve got to work a little faster than the rest.”

  At this point Kael wasn’t sure which was burning hotter: his face or the hearth fire. But at that moment the innkeeper’s wife appeared, saving him.

  She was a small, dainty woman, and when the innkeeper saw her, he smiled. “Well, speaking of lovely ladies.”

  She blushed under his look. “I’ve drawn up the baths, whenever our guests are ready.”

  Kael practically jumped to his feet.

  She frowned at Kyleigh’s empty chair. “And where has the lady wandered off to?”

  “Ah, she’s somewhere under there, love.” The innkeeper gestured to the snoring pile of fur next to the fire. “I’ll wake her and send her up.”

  “All right. But you be careful not to disturb those dogs,” she called as she led Kael to his room. “Remember what happened last time.”

  He grumbled in reply. Apparently, the memory was still very fresh.

  The rooms at The Jack Rabbit were small and tidy. But all Kael really cared about was the bed. “Your bath is over here, sir,” the innkeeper’s wife said quickly, before he could dirty up her sheets.

  She pointed to what looked like an oversized barrel that had been turned on its side and cut in half. Steam rose from the water and when he dipped his fingers into it, he thought it felt like a warm bowl of stew. Because she seemed to think that he knew how to work a bath, the innkeeper’s wife bowed out the door and left him to his own devices.

  He’d had only a few past experiences with bathing. Usually, they involved a simple bucket-full of cold river water. But the night air was chilly, and he was filthy enough to strip off his clothes and give the bath a try.

  The water was surprisingly pleasant — the problem was that it only reached halfway up his thighs. A shelf that held all sorts of odd things covered one half of the bath, leaving him with only a small portion to bathe in.

  At first he tried to sit down, but his legs were far too long and he ended up feeling like a turkey that wouldn’t quite fit in the pot. Then he accidentally lost his footing and discovered that the space beneath the shelf was hollow. His rump was sore and a good bit of the water sloshed out on the ground, but the warmth felt fantastic.

  He grabbed a knife off the shelf and scraped at the bit of stubble that’d grown on his face over the past few days. He never could grow a full beard. And the few times he’d tried, the Tinnarkians hailed him as Patches for weeks after.

  Though he couldn’t see the wounds on his face, there were plenty more he could see well enough to heal. But he only managed to get a few sealed before a headache started to build up in the back of his skull. He didn’t want to pass out again, so he decided to clean his wounds the long way.

  One of the items on the shelf looked like it might be helpful: it was a yellow lump that smelled a bit like flowers. But when he went to scrub with it, the lump shot out of his hand and escaped into the depths of the bath water. Every time he grabbed it, it leapt away.

  He was in the middle of a very intense wrestling match when Kyleigh’s voice stopped him short: “Is everything all right in there?”

  What in Kingdom’s name was she doing in his room? He spun around and tried to cover himself, but only managed to slam his knee into the side of the bath — which knocked several things off the shelf. He grimaced as a painted dish hit the ground and shattered neatly to pieces.

  “I’d appreciate it if you kept the damage to a minimum, seeing as how I’m the one paying for all this,” she said dryly.

  He realized that her voice was not coming from in his room, but from behind the wall next to him. “Sorry, but I can’t get a hold of this yellow stuff,” he said as he coaxed the lump towards him with his toe.

  There was a long pause. “Surely you’ve used soap before.”

  He didn’t know why she sounded so incredulous. “No, we didn’t have the luxury of soap in Tinnark.”

  Her laughter rang out clearly, burning him. “Well that certainly explains a lot. And to think — I’ve been blaming the smell on rotting animals.”

  “Very funny. Are you going to tell me how to use soap or not?”

  “You can start by picking it up gently. Don’t strangle it, or it’ll just fly out of your hand.”

  Once again, she was right. If he held it loosely, he found he could wield it without losing it. He scrubbed until the soap was reduced to hardly the size of a pebble, and couldn’t believe the amount of dirt that came off of him. It was like magic.

  When the innkeeper’s wife came by to pick up his dirty clothes, he couldn’t help but notice that she held them as far away as possible — like she thought his tunic might very well bite her if she got too close. Maybe he really did smell horrible.

  As soon as he climbed into bed, he found he didn’t care if he stunk or not: his eyes slammed shut and the world went quiet.

  Chapter 10

  Garron the Shrewd

  Even after she paid for the broken dish, Kyleigh had enough coin left to buy some salted meat for their rucksacks. The round bits of copper she traded for it had no value to Kael, but the innkeeper seemed pleased.

  “You’re always welcome at The Jackrabbit,” he said cheerfully. “You stop by here anytime.”

  After she bid the dogs farewell, they were off. When he looked back to wave goodbye, the innkeeper gave him a gesture that clearly meant he approved of Kyleigh’s physique, and Kael should get on with it, already.

  “Why does your face look like it’s ripe to be picked?” Kyleigh asked when he spun back around.

  “Nothing. It’s warm out here, is all,” he said, just as his boot crunched some frost-covered weeds.

  The further into the Valley they walked, the more beautiful it became. Green grass waved playfully around their boots and the breeze was heavy with the scent of flowers. Here, the trees reclined like lazy men after dinner, their gentle curves the opposite of the mountain pine’s rigid stand.

  When the afternoon sun bordered on becoming hot, they stopped under a large tree for lunch. Kael rolled up his sleeves and sat in the thickest patch of shade he could find, while Kyleigh sprawled out in the sunlight. He didn’t see how she could stand the heat, covered in black armor. But she seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself.

  While she napped, he flipped through the Atlas. He thought he might find some useful information on bandits — like how to avoid them. But there was only a basic outline of their history, which was something he’d already read. He tossed the book on the ground and let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Trouble, my book-loving friend?” Kyleigh said. She had an arm draped over her head and watched him through one eye.

  He frowned at her. “It’s nothing.”

  She turned her face back to the sun and grinned. “Sure it’s not. I imagine it’s not frustrating at all to be able to remember every word you’ve ever read.”

  “I don’t remember every word.”

  “They say a Wright can read something once, and remember for the rest of his life.”

  So they were back to this, then? Well it was too blasted hot for an argument: he’d end this nonsense once and for all. “I’m not a Wright, and I’ll prove it.” He t
hrew the book and it landed next to her elbow. “Read a few sentences — if you can read, that is — and if I’m a Wright, I’ll be able to tell you what sentence comes next.”

  She sat up and opened the Atlas across her lap. “Oh, Sir Gorigan the Dragonslayer. Well, if this isn’t the biggest crock of —”

  “Just read it,” he said through gritted teeth. He liked this story, and didn’t want to hear her talk badly about it.

  She seemed to be fighting back a smile as she began. “Of all the terrible creatures, none was greater than the mighty dragon. With his serpent body clad in iron scales, his teeth the length of swords, and fiery breath with enough heat to singe your knickers off —”

  “No, it’s enough heat to melt armor,” Kael interjected. “Stop fooling around. It’s not going to work if you don’t read it correctly.”

  She looked at him from over the top of the book, but didn’t say anything. “The dragons, in their lust for the realm, swarmed upon the holds of men and invited them to dinner —”

  “And destroyed all they held dear.” He glared when she grinned. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t taking the story seriously.

  “The knights of the realm rose to fight, but then they got bored —”

  “But the dragon’s scales broke their swords. You aren’t telling it right!”

  “So sorry. Ahem … only Sir Gorigan, ferret among men —”

  “Fairest.”

  “Wore spectacles for his sight —”

  He wrenched the book from her hands and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Didn’t give up the fight, he didn’t give up the fight! I know you don’t believe the stories, but you don’t have to butcher them. They could be true — Sir Gorigan could have chased the dragons away. Have you seen a dragon lately? Because I know I haven’t.”

  He stomped down the path, determined to put as much distance between them as possible. But it wasn’t long before he heard her footsteps coming up behind him.

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “I’m sorry, truly I am,” she said. He didn’t look at her, but she sounded sincere. “I was just having a bit of fun. I had no idea the stories meant so much to you. Next time I’ll tell it right.”

  He shrugged because he didn’t want her to think he cared. But the truth was that he cared very much.

  It would have sounded ridiculous if he said it aloud, but in his head he thought of Sir Gorigan as a close friend. When the other children wouldn’t play with him, he’d found refuge in the world of stories. He would escape between the pages and imagine himself fighting alongside warriors like Sir Gorigan, slaying dragons and saving the realm. In many ways, the heroes he read about were the only friends he’d ever had.

  But he would die before he admitted it to Kyleigh.

  They walked for another hour in silence. It didn’t take long for his anger to fade, and soon he was back to thinking darkly about the weather. Sweat gathered around the collar of his shirt, making it itch more than usual. Or perhaps it was because his head swiveled to the left and right so often that it tickled.

  Every bush, every crop of trees was a potential threat. He strained his eyes and watched for any sign of movement. He gripped his bow so tightly it made his fingers hurt. But he wasn’t going to let the bandits take them by surprise. If he let his guard down for half a second, they might spring out, rob them blind, slit their throats and leave them for the crows.

  But a while later it began to feel like he worried over nothing: they hadn’t come across another soul all afternoon. Then they climbed a gentle hill, and what they saw below shattered their peace.

  A large caravan sprawled out on the flat ground beneath them. Six covered wagons made a circle around the smoldering remnants of campfires, each stamped with the great twisting oak of the Grandforest. Dark-haired forest men swarmed all around them, calling to each other as they rushed to pack their camp.

  “I wonder if they’d let us follow along for a bit?” Kyleigh said.

  He thought that was a horrible plan. “You can’t be serious. For all we know they could be bandits disguised as merchants. Or rogue mages, or assassins, or slave traders, or —”

  “Terrible, bone-crunching rabbits! Oh, come now,” she said when he glared at her. “They’re only merchants. Besides, traveling with a caravan will keep us safe from the real bandits — and whatever other nonsense you’re worried about.” And before he could stop her, she strode purposefully down the path.

  “I still think we should be careful,” he grumbled as he followed. “Rogue mages are a real concern, you know. I’ve read all about them.”

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the side of her face crease in a grin.

  The forest men were so busy packing that no one noticed them approach. When they were within shouting distance, a man on a black horse finally spotted them. He galloped up the hill and reined in his horse an arm’s reach from Kael, barring them from the path. He didn’t say anything for a moment. His stern blue eyes flicked over the pair of them while he stroked impatiently at his regal, gray-tinged beard.

  “You’re nearly a day late,” he finally said, his voice every bit as serious as the slick crop of his hair. “I sent word to the Earl over a week ago, requesting an escort. What if we’d been attacked by bandits? Would His Earlship have compensated me for my stolen goods? He probably just sent the two of you to search our bodies. Kingdom knows he’s already swindled me. For all the gold I paid, I should have gotten a small army, not a pair of children —”

  “We aren’t children — sir.” Kael added that last bit quickly, when the man raised his brows in dangerous arcs.

  “Not children? Well a full-grown man would know how to tell time,” he huffed. The horse snorted in agreement, blowing its hot breath through Kael’s hair. “You’ve put my whole caravan behind, and now we’re in danger of missing the market. How do you propose we make up the difference? Gold doesn’t fall from the sky, you know.”

  Kael didn’t know where gold came from, but he was fed up with this pompous man and his smelly horse. He was about to tell him exactly where he could put his difference when Kyleigh stepped in.

  “You’re right. And if we miss the market, you can take the difference from our wages,” she said.

  The anger left the man’s face immediately. “Well, I’ll agree to that.” He crossed his arms over his slightly protruding belly. “I’m rather impressed — your sort usually doesn’t admit wrong, much less remedy it. And what do I call you?”

  “I’m Kyleigh, and this,” she nudged him, “is Kael.”

  He nodded to each of them in turn, then swept a hand to his chest. “I’m Garron the Shrewd, a merchant of the Grandforest. Don’t call me Mr. Shrewd — it gives me indigestion. Stick with Garron, for now.” He jerked the horse towards the caravan. “Take your packs and fall in the with the rest of the men. Quickly, now — we haven’t got time for dawdling!”

  Kael waited until he galloped out of earshot — then he swore. “Perfect. Now he thinks we work for the Earl. And what happens when the real escorts show up? Do you think Mr. Shrewd is just going to let us get away with it?” He turned towards the caravan, where he could hear Garron laying into some poor man who wasn’t moving fast enough. “He’ll probably tie us to the back of that devil horse and drag us till our skin comes off.”

  Kyleigh raised her eyebrows. “That’s quite inventive, actually. But I don’t think we have to worry about the escorts showing up. Earl Titus is dragging the better part of his army through the mountains, remember? And he’ll have left the rest behind to defend the castle.”

  He immediately felt foolish. He should have thought of that. “I suppose we would be doing Garron a favor, if we went along …”

  “Exactly. He needs escorts, and we need safe passage through the Valley. See?” She clapped him on the shoulder. “We haven’t been with them five minutes and you’re already learning something about trade.”

  “It still doesn’t seem entirely honest.”r />
  She shrugged. “It never is. Now, are you coming or not?”

  “Okay. But if we get caught —”

  She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward. “Then you can say I told you so — right before they hang us by our own entrails.”

  Garron the Shrewd had tied up his horse and was marching among the carts, barking orders, when they arrived. The air around him must have been charged with a shock: everywhere he went, men leapt off their rumps and scrambled to find a task. They secured fastenings, loaded equipment, and doused fires — anything to avoid the sharp edge of his tongue.

  He was in the middle of inspecting a cartwheel when a pretty young woman flitted to his side. His stern expression melted away as he caught her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. They talked for a moment, and then he turned and pointed.

  The young woman spun around and caught Kael watching her. He tried to dart behind one of the carts, but ran into Kyleigh instead. It was like running into the side of a house.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, grinning, as she helped him off the ground. She read the panic on his face and her hand went immediately to her sword. “What is it?” Her eyes shot up the path … and found the girl.

  She burst out laughing.

  Before Kael could stop her, she waved. The girl waved back, and all too soon she was running towards them.

  Her powder blue dress made the clothes the Tinnark women wore look like rucksacks with holes cut out the top. It fell lightly to her feet and flowed out as she ran. When the breeze caught her skirts, they curved more tightly to her body, revealing her figure.

  Kael turned red before she even reached them.

  “Papa told me you’ve just arrived. Welcome to our caravan! You may call me Aerilyn,” she said, her clear blue eyes lighting up with her smile.

  Kyleigh took the hand she offered and introduced them.

  “It’s so refreshing to have new faces among us. Shall I give you a tour of the caravan?” Aerilyn looked at him, and he pretended to be very interested in watching the merchants latch a team of horses together.