The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1)

by Kaeden, Tavish

  "Do you smell it?" said a voice nearby, and Nicolas' eyes snapped open to find that Mavonin had turned around and was looking directly at him.

  "I ah…do I smell what?"

  "Land!" exclaimed the Knight, flashing a smile.

  "I…no, no I do not." answered Nicolas. It was the first time he had spoken directly with Sir Mavonin, and he found he was a little nervous.

  "How can you not?" asked Mavonin, his smile broadening. "Why, it is as strong as skunk. You see, in the middle of the ocean, there is nothing in the air but salt, and occasionally a bit of cloud. But land…land has the smells of muddy earth, of lush greens, of life decaying and being born again. A man can smell land a full ten leagues from shore, if he has the nose for it."

  "Really?" asked Nicolas. "And can you smell it, are we almost there?"

  Mavonin looked at him for a second, and then burst out laughing.

  "Oh, I am sorry my boy, I really am. I shouldn't be foolin' with soft young minds like yours. I cannot smell a thing, boy, not since I had my nose smashed by a breeder's bull just off the eastern shores of Wokorai." Mavonin allowed himself a few more moments of chuckling, before he said, "But, I will tell you that we're near land, eh…what was your name?"

  "Nicolas, Sir."

  "Well, Nicolas," continued Mavonin, "we're near land, and that's Rekon's own truth. And do you know why I'm sure?"

  Nicolas thought for a second.

  "Because you've made this trip before?"

  This sent the knight into another fit of chuckles. "Not quite, young Nicolas, although you're on the right track. But, I won't plague you with more guessing, or jokes, I promise. The reason I am sure is because…"

  Mavonin pulled a small brass tube of metal from his pocket and held it up for Nicolas to see.

  "…because I've seen it with mine own eyes! Or…err, rather, mine own eye. Have you ever seen one of these before?"

  Nicolas considered the long cylindrical tube for a moment before shaking his head.

  "No, I would not expect so," said Mavonin, with a hint of pride in his voice. "Few people on Esmoria have, I suspect. For you would need to travel through the heart of the dryland desert, to the foot of the Ferroj Mountains to find the sandburners who make it. And even if you did, it would prove difficult, for the work of the sandburners is considered so sacred, that for a foreigner to look upon it is considered a mortal offense."

  "So how did you come by it?" asked Nicolas, eager to hear another of the Knight's wild tales of adventure.

  "I…ehrm…well, I," he began, his one eye appraising Nicolas uncertainly. "Oh hell!" he continued, "You're old enough, I suppose. A sandburner would have killed me on sight I'm sure, or would at least have tried. But I made myself very…friendly…with one of the sandburner's wives, which, coincidentally, I understand is also a mortal sin, and I persuaded her to give it to me! Needless to say, I did not stay for very long after that."

  Nicolas, against his will, blushed scarlet, which set Mavonin off into another paroxysm of mirth. When he had recovered, he cried out, "But I haven't even shown you what it does!"

  The knight shot out an arm and pulled Nicolas toward the rail. He then raised the tube to his eye and turned his gaze towards the rippling waters.

  "You just look through it like so, and if you get your eye in the right position, things far away will magically seem as if they are right in front of you. Here," he said, holding out the tube to Nicolas, "give it a try."

  "Really?" said Nicolas, accepting the tube gingerly as if it were made of parchment, and putting it to his eye. At first all he could see was a blurred field of whitish blue, which seemed to be intermittently shadowed as he changed the position of his eye. With a little coaching from Sir Mavonin, however, Nicolas was able to bring the sea into focus, and eventually distinguish some dark specs on the horizon that Mavonin told him were land.

  "Amazing," breathed Nicolas as he gave the strange tube back to the knight. "I had never even thought, never even heard of…" but he trailed off as he saw Mavonin looking at him again, appraisingly.

  "You're the healer's boy, right?"

  "Yes. I'm his, well, apprentice, of sorts," answered Nicolas.

  "And you are learning how to heal?"

  "No, I…" Nicolas started without thinking, but then realized he couldn't tell this man the truth about Jorj, or himself. "Well, I owe him my service, in payment for…saving my life," finished Nicolas, the words sounding strange to him as they came out of his mouth.

  "Ah, I should have guessed it," said Mavonin. "It is a pity. I could use a lad like you on my crew. I've seen you around the cask at nights, listening, and I can see that you yearn for a bit of adventure. Ah well, I'm sure you'll have an adventure or two of your own someday. Tell you what, boy, if the day ever comes when that master of yours unyokes you, and you find yourself wanting to see a bit of the world, come find me."

  And giving Nicolas a pat on the back, Sir Relusz Mavonin left Nicolas starry-eyed and speechless, imagining himself traveling to the furthest corners of the world at the side of this intrepid knight.

  Chapter 33: Jeina

  "You know," said Jeina, staring at a spider that was busily exploring a corner of the Curahshena hut, "you would be a much better protector if you used a sword. We'd not be stuck in this awful shed, waiting for a bunch of backwards Curahshar to do Rekon knows what with us if you carried a proper blade, like any other man."

  As she knew it would, Fezi's face fell, but to her surprise his countenance seemed more grim than dejected.

  "I have been of much less use to you than I had hoped, Jeina. My failures weigh heavy upon me, and please believe that I am truly ashamed. I cannot think of how these Curahshar managed to slip into our camp and take you without waking me."

  Jeina felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered why such a feat had been possible.

  "However," continued Fezi, sounding surprisingly resolute. "While I have pledged to help you, I have also made many promises to myself which are not easily broken. I would give my life to protect you Jeina, but will not forsake who I am. And, I hope you will forgive me for pointing this out, but if I had killed our assailants last night, that old man who had his knife to your heart might just have plunged it in to avenge his son's death. Vengeance is a paramount virtue in Curahshena culture."

  "Wonderful," said Jeina, her sarcastic tone an effort to mask her feelings of chastisement. "A king wants me dead, I'm being hounded by horrid creatures that should only exist in nightmares, I've been captured by a violent tribe of Curahshar, and the man who has sworn to protect me refuses to do anything but bonk my assailants on the head."

  Jeina let her head fall against the wall behind her in frustration. For a moment, she almost wished that she was back at the mining camp, before the gröljum had been discovered, her days filled with damp, depressing, yet predictable drudgery.

  She saw the head of a villager seem to float by the small window near the door and then heard the voices of the guards outside respond to a greeting. The door opened to reveal her kidnapper from the previous night. His left arm was in a sling, but otherwise he was looking positively cheerful.

  "Sleep good?" he asked, chuckling. "Time for judging now! You follow me."

  "Where are we going?" asked Fezi.

  "To olders," said the man. "They know what to do with you."

  They followed the villager to a small amphitheater, carved into the ground in what seemed to be the very center of the village. A large crowd had gathered there, but nothing else seemed unusual. At the bottom of the amphitheater were five old men, seated atop tall wooden stools. With dismay, Jeina recognized one of the men as the father of her captor. At least, she thought begrudgingly, Fezi hadn't killed his son.

  They were led to a bench near the old men and told to sit. When they did so, a hush fell over the crowd around them, as all attention was directed to the men on the stools.

  "You still, say nothing," commanded their escort in a low voice. "Judging is to begi
n."

  When he sat down not far away, Jeina was startled by the sound of a drum, coming from somewhere she could not see. It started out softly, but steadily grew louder, until Jeina could feel the steady percussion reverberating in her chest. At the sound of the drum, the five old men stood up, and began to walk slowly in a circle around the bench on which Jeina and Fezi were seated. It was clear to Jeina that they were all looking at her very closely, with impassive expressions on their faces. Fezi kept his head lowered and his eyes downcast but Jeina tried to meet the elders' gazes as one by one they considered her. Except for the beating of the drum, not another sound was made as the judging continued. Then, the drum stopped and the old men resumed their seats on the stools.

  The crowd stayed silent, but the old men put their heads together, and whispered amongst themselves quietly. After a few minutes, one of them stood up and called for the man who had captured her last night. As her assailant listened to what the old man said, a smile lit his face, and soon he trotted up to Jeina and Fezi, beaming.

  "They have decided!" he said. "The olders have been very giving. They give you a choice. You can be servant, or you can die, with honor."

  He then turned to the crowd and shouted what Jeina assumed was the judgment of the elders. Most around them cheered in appreciation, nodding their heads in approval of the elders' wisdom. Some, however, spat on the ground or gave other signs of disapproval.

  Jeina groaned. She had been hoping against hope that they would just let her and Fezi leave, promising never to return.

  "What do you mean, to die with honor?" asked Fezi as the noise of the crowd had subsided.

  "Drink white-leaf water," said the villager. "and sleep forever. No pain."

  "And to be a servant?" asked Jeina nervously.

  "Take the cut, and work for me!" beamed the villager.

  "The cut?" asked Jeina.

  "Ah…" said the villager, scratching his head. But then he called out to the crowd, asking for something. Jeina saw a man in the crowd cheerfully wave his hand, and nudge something beside him. An unsteady figure was pushed out of the crowd, and hobbled down to where they were sitting.

  "Take the cut," said the villager again, pointing to the small man's leg. Jeina could see a long, neat scar that ran across the back of the man's entire thigh.

  "You not run, not fight, but you live," said the villager, with an air of dignified magnanimity. "Now you decide."

  "He's been hamstrung," said Fezi. "A cruel punishment."

  "It sounds better than dying," reasoned Jeina.

  "We'd never make it to the Blood Marsh crippled like that."

  "We won't get there by dying either," retorted Jeina.

  "Maybe there is another way," began Fezi in a whisper. "Maybe I could subdue the guards, and we could make a run for it. An arrow in the shoulder or arm can heal, but once you are hamstrung you are crippled for life."

  "How about an arrow in the back, or the neck?" asked Jeina, "Do those heal?"

  "Are you just going to give up, then?" demanded Fezi. "Forget about the gröljum, forget about Eathor?"

  "Of course not," said Jeina. "If I'm alive, maybe I can convince these people of the danger, maybe they will help spread the message. Or perhaps I'll meet a traveler on his way through these parts. A Church man, or somebody who will relay the message for me."

  "Out here? Not likely, Jeina. You can tell the Church has had little effect in these parts, these people can barely speak Rekon's tongue!"

  "We have no choice, Fezi! While we still live there is at least some hope of success; if we die there is none."

  "But if we escape…"

  "Please Fezi, don't. Clubbing a few Curahshar on the head didn't work last night, and it certainly won't work now in the light of day. I know you would like to play the hero, but you'll just end up getting us both killed."

  "I…" said Fezi, clearly hurt by Jeina's lack of faith in him. "You would rather live out the rest of your life in servitude? These people might feed you and give you a roof at night, they might even be kind and allow you small favors, but your life won't be your own Jeina! Can you imagine what that feels like?"

  "I can, yes," replied Jeina. "It can't be any worse than working in Tobin's mining camps."

  "But Jeina, I don't want to have to…"

  "You don't have to," she interrupted. "Try and escape if you must. But have the decency to wait before I give my response. Hopefully they won't kill me knowing I'm crippled."

  "You can't be serious," protested Fezi.

  "I am," said Jeina, and she turned to face the group of elders who were observing their exchanging with great curiosity.

  "I'll take the cut," she said.

  "No!" Fezi started to shout, but just then a woman's piercing scream came from somewhere in the distance. The villagers all turned anxiously in the direction of the sound, and the elders all jumped off their stools. The scream came again, then again, and soon was joined by a chorus of others. Jeina saw a large flock of birds ascend from the orchards to the west, a disorganized cloud of squawking dots in the sky. A figure burst into view, a little boy running as fast as his legs could carry him. He was screaming something that Jeina could not understand, but the raw fear in his voice was unmistakable.

  A woman ran out to meet the child, while many of the men sprinted from the amphitheater, making for their homes. Suddenly, all was panic and confusion, and Fezi and Jeina found themselves alone in the middle of the village.

  Jeina turned to Fezi. "I don't know what's going on," she said, looking for some place to run "but this is our chance! If we can get out of here unseen, we can hide in the wilderness and they may never find us! Where should we go Fezi, East? West? South? Fezi?" But Fezi wasn't listening. His eyes had a distant look in them, and his jaw was clenched shut.

  "Fezi! Look, I'm sorry we argued, but it doesn't matter now. Come on, Fezi!" Jeina grabbed his hand, ready to drag him along if necessary as she sprinted for the trees, but she stopped in surprise when she felt Fezi's arm begin to tremble.

  "gröljum," Fezi managed to hiss, as his whole body began to quake.

  Men began to reappear from their houses, thick leather shields and spears and bows at the ready. A few were shouting at each other, not in anger, Jeina realized, but to stir their energy. When enough had gathered in the center of town they headed off in the directions of the screams, answering the sounds of terror with war cries of their own. Group after group formed and left for battle, but Jeina could still hear the cries of panic echoing in the distance. Fezi began to cower in fear, ducking behind the bench they had recently occupied and cradling his head in his hands.

  Jeina knelt down and brought his face up to hers so she could look directly in his eyes.

  "I'm…sss…sorry…Je…eina," moaned Fezi.

  "Fezi, we have to hide," said Jeina. "There are no horses, and I can't carry you, so we just have to hide somewhere and hope the villagers can handle the gröljum, or that it can't find us."

  "Nn…No!" stammered Fezi. "You cc…can. Yy…ou…can run! L…Leave me."

  "I'm not doing that," said Jeina, looking around wildly for a place to hide. A few paces away there was a large pile of logs, covered by a taut hide canopy to keep it from the rain.

  "Just over there," she said twisting Fezi's head in the direction of the wood. "Pull yourself together now." A terrible fear was clutching at the back of Jeina's mind—the gröljum was getting closer, and soon it would be impossible to move Fezi. She caught hold of his arm, and pulled him to a standing position. The man was absurdly heavy for someone so lean and gaunt, but she managed to get him to stumble over to the firewood, and lodge himself between the wood and the back of the canopy. Jeina was about to do the same, when she saw a score of figures come streaming back into the center of town. Many of them had dropped their weapons, and were now trying desperately to get away from something. Ignoring the plight of their fellows, they pushed and kicked at anyone or anything that got in their way, but it was all for nau
ght, for a dark black streak came hurtling down upon them, raking its claws across the bodies of the men and women who scattered before it.

  Jeina ducked down behind the wood, fear beating her heart so fast that each pulse felt like a hammer pounding against the inside of her head. She tried unsuccessfully to catch her breath, to fight the panic that was boiling within her. Unbearable sounds of horror and agony filled the air around her, but it was nothing compared to the terror that gripped her when everything fell silent.

  Jeina froze, straining to hear what was happening behind her. A few moans disturbed the silence, and occasionally she could hear the nearby sound of Fezi's teeth grinding in his skull. Had the gröljum gone? Had it left the dead behind to pursue other prey? She glanced over at Fezi. The veins on his arms were bulging as he gripped his knees tightly, and he seemed to be trying to bury his head in his chest. The gröljum could not have gone too far for Fezi to be affected so. Then, Jeina heard it—the slow crunch of footsteps, coming nearer and nearer. She struggled against the fear she had pushed to the back of her mind, but with each step it grew stronger and stronger, until Jeina could feel herself losing her grip on reason. A faint acrid smell filled the air as Fezi's bladder failed him, and Jeina heard the footsteps pause. Then, an eerie, inhuman shriek cut the air and the logs around them went flying in all directions. Jeina leapt out of the way as a chunk of wood spun past her head, and she saw Fezi's crouching form, exposed as their wooden blind was swept away. The creature whirled in his direction, and Jeina rushed to him, and tried to pull him up. It was no use, though, he was frozen stiff with terror, and no matter how hard Jeina pulled or yanked he would not budge.

  The gröljum advanced towards them, and Jeina could see that it wore something on its head. A crude leather harness encircled its skull, with two large sections that completely obscured the eyes. The creature could not see, she realized, and for a moment she had the desperate hope that if she just stood still… But then the gröljum leapt directly towards them, and with a swipe of its claw sent Jeina and Fezi sprawling. When Jeina's head stopped spinning she looked up to see the creature looming directly before her, one claw raised high in the air. She shut her eyes, and braced herself for the pain she knew was imminent, but then she heard a great bellow behind her, and something rush by. She opened her eyes to see Fezi hurl himself at the gröljum, knocking it off balance, as its swipe flew harmlessly into the air. Almost instantly, however, the creature recovered, and before Jeina could warn Fezi, the creature had attacked him, and this time its aim was true. Though Fezi tried to avoid the arm that sped towards him, he was not quick enough and Jeina saw the jagged claws slice deep into his chest and shoulders.