Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga

by Tyson, Mark

  “Let me get dressed, and I will meet you in the common room,” Dorenn said yawning.

  “Meet me out on the river walk instead,” she said.

  Dorenn smiled. “I will be there shortly.”

  “Good,” Tatrice exclaimed giddily and kissed him softly on the lips.

  Dorenn quickly got dressed, walked out to greet his friends, and put away his things on the wagon. Rennon was already inspecting the horses when Dorenn arrived.

  Rennon glanced up and saw Dorenn. “There you are. Tatrice asked me to tell you she will have breakfast brought out onto the dock shortly.

  “Did you want to take the reins again today?” Dorenn asked, ignoring Rennon’s advice.

  “It’s not often that an apothecary’s apprentice gets to handle a team, much less travel,” Rennon replied.

  “You seem to be in good spirits this morning,” Dorenn said.

  “Just don’t you hold us up too long or I will leave you here,” he said sharply.

  Dorenn laughed and shook his head. “I won’t be long, and besides, I have all the money, remember?”

  Rennon huffed and waved Dorenn on.

  As Dorenn made his way to the dining area on the river walk, he passed a curious shop and stopped to peer into the window. The building was nestled between the inn and another shop. Its trim, painted deep maroon, sparkled strangely in the morning sun. In the window were polished stones, but not jewels, of all shapes and sizes. The small sign above the door read Precious Stones and Knickknacks. Dorenn impulsively decided to get Tatrice a gift, so he entered the shop. Rows and rows of stones of blue, green, and red lined the shelves. Behind the wooden counter, which was covered with still more stones and crystals, stood a tall, thin man of considerable age.

  “Welcome to Precious Stones and Knickknacks, young master.” He extended his arms out in welcome to Dorenn. “How may I be of assistance?”

  “I’m looking for a gift.” He considered his words carefully. “A romantic gift.”

  The old man’s eyes brightened. “A romantic gift, why certainly. I’m sure we can find something romantic.” He winked at Dorenn. “What is the young lass’s favorite color?” he inquired, leaning his elbow on the wooden counter.

  “Green,” Dorenn answered.

  The old shopkeeper sprang up from behind the counter and snapped his fingers. “Green I can do, my boy.” He put his hand under his chin and surveyed his shelves. “I have stones and crystals and small figurines. Which one would your lass prefer?”

  Dorenn looked around the room, uncertain of what to choose.

  Seeing Dorenn’s indecision, the shopkeeper smiled. “I have just the thing.” He walked to a shelf and chose a small jade figurine. “Ah, here we go. ‘Tis a figure of an elf maiden, bold and beautiful.”

  Dorenn liked the figure, but it was not exactly what he had in mind for Tatrice. “It is beautiful but I—”

  “Here, hold it,” the old man said as he thrust the figure into Dorenn’s hands.

  Dorenn froze as a peculiar sensation came over him. He turned the figure over in his hands as he felt its power. “What is it?” he asked.

  The old man’s eyes glittered with delight. “It is an ancient thing called a Nolminae Alaenore.” The man paused but no sign of recognition came to Dorenn’s face. The old man frowned. “That is elven for jewel of essence.”

  Realizing that what he held was magic, Dorenn became increasingly uncomfortable. “Thank you, sir, but I can’t take this.”

  “Nonsense, and I will even do you one better.” The old man chose three violet stones from another shelf. “I will give you these three stones. They are rune stones. They will not harm you, but they will aid in your decisions.”

  “What decisions?” Dorenn asked suspiciously.

  The old man wrinkled his forehead. “All decisions worth deciding, boy.”

  Dorenn examined the stones; each one had a different rune etched into it. “What do I owe you, sir?” Dorenn asked. He had decided not to argue with the old man, and he now felt an irresistible urge to cut his losses and leave.

  “Two silver is all I ask,” the old man replied.

  Dorenn thought for a moment. “Surely not, these stones and the figure are far more valuable than two silver.”

  The old man’s face contorted anxiously. “You wish to pay more?”

  “A fair price,” Dorenn said, suddenly realizing he was about to make a mistake. He handed the old man the silver and thanked him. A strange sensation came over him as he took the stones into his hand. Dorenn turned them over in his palm.

  “Is there something the matter?” the old man asked.

  Dorenn regained his senses. “Oh no. It’s just I was wondering how you came to sell these things in a land where they have been outlawed. Are you not afraid of the Enforcers finding out and coming to your shop?”

  “Don’t you worry about me, young master; I have made special arrangements with the Enforcers. Besides, no one has said anything about magic here as far as I can remember.” He winked at Dorenn. “Now go on and meet your lass.”

  As Dorenn exited and walked away from the shop, he thought he could hear the old man laughing.

  Dorenn found Tatrice sitting at a table nearest the river. The Euflaire Aquane was not a particularly swift river, at least not while it wound its way through Cedar Falls proper. It did have a few rapids, but they were farther downstream near the falls that gave the village its name. As he neared Tatrice, the river actually gave off a pleasant scent, as if the villagers had filled it with the same flower scented oils they used in the bathhouses. Tatrice smiled excitedly as Dorenn sat down at the table. “Isn’t the river beautiful, Dorenn?”

  “Aye, it is. I had never noticed it before. We never actually stopped here on previous trips to Symbor.”

  “Each time I would travel through Cedar Falls I would look at this river and hope that someday I would get to enjoy a stay beside it.”

  “I am sorry we have to leave so soon then,” Dorenn said.

  Tatrice smiled and took his hand.

  A few moments later, a portly man came out of the inn carrying a tray with bacon, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and fresh fruit on it. “Enjoy!” he said, bowing and backing away.

  Dorenn put his hand into his pant pocket and took hold of the little statuette, but he released it, deciding he would give it to her after breakfast. Tatrice made them both a plate of food from the tray while the innkeeper brought out two goblets of spring wine. Dorenn took a gulp from his goblet and the bubbles tickled his nose. After eating and light conversation, Tatrice finished her goblet of spring wine and started to get up from the table. “No, wait, Tat, I have something I want to give you.” Tatrice sat back down excitedly. Dorenn fumbled for the figurine and pulled it from his pant pocket. “Here, I found this in a small shop on the way. Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it properly, but I hope you like it.”

  “Oh, Dorenn, it is lovely, but I have nothing to give in return.”

  “You have given me this fine breakfast.”

  Tatrice hugged Dorenn and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “We had better get back to the wagon,” he said uncomfortably. “I don’t want to be left here.” Tatrice beamed at Dorenn and nodded.

  Rennon walked to the rear of the wagon to find Tatrice and Dorenn. He spotted them walking from the river hand in hand. Tatrice held something small and green in her hand, and he saw her tuck it away into her pocket as they neared the wagons. Both were smiling and looking into each other’s eyes. Rennon sighed heavily and returned to the front of the wagon. A few moments later, Trendan reined in his horse and signaled for the party to move out. Dorenn seated himself beside Rennon and nodded to the young apothecary’s apprentice. He nodded back before snapping the reins, signaling the team to pull the merchant wagon forward.

  “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he asked Dorenn as they left Cedar Falls.

  Dorenn eyed his friend in a moment of contemplation. “Actually, I di
d. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, I just saw you two walking hand in hand when not three days ago Tatrice looked as if she would rather kiss a mule than you.”

  “Well, you know Tat; she can’t hold a grudge more than a few days.”

  “So you ironed out the problem then?”

  “Not exactly. I’m not sure what the problem was and every time I bring it up she changes the subject.”

  “I suppose she got over it enough to forgive you but not so much as to forget.”

  Dorenn stifled a yawn. “I suppose so. I’m just glad she is talking to me at all again, and I will not spoil that with foolish questions.” Dorenn was not sure, but he thought he heard a hint of jealously in Rennon’s speech. “Why all of the questions?” Dorenn asked.

  “No reason; I’m just making small talk to pass the time. If you want to talk about something else, feel free.”

  “What has been bothering you? You’ve been in a strange mood ever since we left Brookhaven.”

  “I have many things on my mind. If I’ve been short with you, I apologize.”

  “It isn’t that you have been short with me as much as you just seem different, like you are preoccupied with your thoughts.”

  Rennon sighed. “I guess I have been preoccupied, especially since we started this trip.”

  “Why?” Dorenn asked.

  “This trip feels strange to me.”

  “Strange how?”

  “It’s a feeling I have but can’t explain. I don’t trust Lady Shey, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “What’s wrong with Lady Shey?” Dorenn knew Rennon was attempting to redirect the conversation, and he let him.

  Rennon glared at Dorenn apprehensively. “For one thing, she’s a dangerous wielder up to no good. We shouldn’t even be traveling with her. If the Enforcers find out, they will arrest us right along with her. How can you trust her, Dorenn?”

  “I never said I trusted her. I can’t see the harm in traveling with her though, wielder or not. Enforcers always come when someone is blatantly disrupting a village or stirring up trouble. I haven’t seen Lady Shey do either’ in fact, I haven’t seen her use any magic at all.”

  “Well, I still won’t trust a wielder,” Rennon stated adamantly.

  “In a few days we’ll be back in Brookhaven, and all this will be behind us. Lady Shey will probably leave not long after we get home, if not sooner.”

  “I suppose.” Rennon eyed the reins in his hand. “I guess I can tolerate a wielder long enough for us to get this trip over with.”

  “Good,” Dorenn said.

  Just after midday, the small caravan sighted the port city of Symbor. Dorenn was awestruck at the enormity of the city; he had been to Symbor before, but the sight never ceased to amaze him. Rows and rows of two story houses were jumbled together on curved cobblestone streets. Symbor, since it was one of the oldest cities in the known world, had an older interior, which had been built upon over time to expand out the city to its present size. The waterfront extended on as far as he could see, with sailing and merchant ships all moored together along the wharf, and from this distance he could see the king’s palace. Dorenn noticed that Tatrice had climbed up onto the roof of the red, wooden merchant wagon to get a better view of the city. Lady Shey remained in the wagon, and he surmised she had seen more impressive cities than Symbor and was probably indifferent.

  “Do you have the shipping master’s dock number, Dorenn?” Rennon asked.

  “I believe my father put the dock number in the coin pouch he gave me. We can go directly to the dock and drop off the wagon. Master Draper has stables for the team.”

  “We are leaving the wagon at the dock overnight?” Rennon asked.

  “We will not trade until tomorrow. Don’t worry, Rennon, the wagon will be safe.”

  “Where do we go after we drop off the wagon then?”

  “Father has a line of credit in Symbor at the Dragon’s Eye Inn; we’ll get lodging there.”

  “Good, it’ll probably take that long to shop for the dry goods your father needs anyway,” Tatrice added, moving to a small perch just behind the driver’s seat.

  As the small caravan neared the city gates, Dorenn readied his merchant papers for the guards. After showing the papers and a quick inspection of the wagon, the party entered the city gates of Symbor, capital city of the kingdom of Symboria.

  Since it was about midday, people rushed around the cobblestone streets at a frantic pace, largely ignoring anyone and anything around them. Shops of all kinds lined the main street, and a few shop owners tried to haggle with passersby. It was well into the day as the party finally crossed the city to the docks and located the dock number they needed. It was near dusk by the time they reached the Dragon’s Eye Inn not far from the docks and only a short distance from the eastern gate. Dorenn had no trouble securing rooms in the Inn, and soon they had all sat down in the common room to eat the evening meal. They took up two large dining tables in all. The common room was less than full, and Dorenn could not help to compare the structure to the Tiger’s Head Inn. It was spacious but not quite as luxurious, and it felt less lived in with décor that was much plainer.

  The sound of crashing kitchenware directed their attention to the table of one man who appeared to be intoxicated. He wore fine clothing for someone of his dubious appearance. His maroon tunic with gold embroidery complimented his black trousers and polished boots, and his hair was a bit unkempt. His intoxication was apparent by his constant fumbling while trying to pat the female servant’s backside each time she walked within range. He wore a black goatee, and his black hair had silvered at his temples. Dorenn noticed that Lady Shey eyed the man suspiciously; she and Sylvalora looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and shook their heads in dissatisfaction.

  “Shameful display,” Dorenn heard Lady Shey whisper to Sylvalora.

  “Indeed,” Sylvalora whispered back.

  “Should we invite him over?” Lady Shey inquired.

  “Absolutely,” Sylvalora grinned back.

  Dorenn was appalled; he did not want the drunkard at his table.

  Lady Shey made a motion with her head and the man smiled, grabbed his tankard of ale and stumbled toward their table, sloshing it onto the floor and almost tripping over a chair.

  “What are you doing?” Dorenn whispered urgently to Lady Shey, but she ignored him.

  The man reached Lady Shey and kissed the top of her hand awkwardly. “My Lady Shey,” he slurred, “so nice to see you again.”

  “I wish I could say the same, Gondrial, but once again you have pickled your brain in ale. It is not very becoming, you know.”

  Gondrial looked hurt at first, but then he perked up. “Is it not? I never would have guessed being drunk could be as damaging to one as virulent as I am. Thank you so much, my lady, for pointing it out. I will sober up at once.” He sloshed out more ale. “Well, after five or six more tankards, I promise it’s the straight and narrow.”

  “Oh, be silent, Gondrial, and sit down before you fall down,” Lady Shey said with a half-cocked smile.

  Rodraq pulled up a stray chair and placed it under Gondrial as he was half-sitting and half-falling. Gondrial plopped down on the seat, surprised his backside had found solid backing.

  “How long have you been in Symbor, Gondrial?” Lady Shey asked.

  “I arrived this morning.” He looked around at the persons sitting at the table as if he had only just noticed them. “Who are all of these people? I thought you were coming with Rodraq and a couple of guards.”

  Lady Shey looked around the table. “These are folks from Brookhaven come to buy a wagonload of ale for the Tiger’s Head Inn. I thought it best to come along incognito with them to avoid any awkward situations.”

  “Ah, you mean awkward situations like running into old Tobani De’Marr? He is out of the city, and he has gone to Darovan. I have already tried to find him for you.”

  “You didn’t!” Lady Shey looked horrified. “Find hi
m, I mean.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Gondrial said. “I just told you he is out of the city.”

  “Gondrial, if you would have brought him to me I would have boiled your liver and made stew.”

  Gondrial laughed. “Relax dear, no harm done.” He turned and looked at Rodraq. “Rodraq, old buddy, you look as ugly as ever,” he slurred. “I thought marriage would pretty you up some, but I guess I was wrong. Where is the misses anyway?” Gondrial glanced around as if looking for her.

  Rodraq’s expression did not alter. “She is home tending our son.”

  “A son, you, Rodraq?” Gondrial said, patting him on the back. “Why, that is something special indeed. Who would have thought you would know how to do anything but swing a sword? Apparently you can wield a—”

  “GONDRIAL!” Lady Shey interrupted. “We have guests at the table who are not yet of a suitable age for your boorishness.”

  Gondrial looked confused for a moment and blinked. “You are right, where are my manners? I apologize.” Gondrial squinted at Trendan. “Brookhaven, eh? You do not look Symborian to me, son, you look like an elf.”

  “I’m half-elven, sir, I was born in Arillia,” Trendan said.

  “I thought so. I too am half-elven. My mother is from Lux Amarou and my father is from Arillia.” He chuckled. “A high man and an Arillian elf, now you have to see the humor in that relationship.”

  Lady Shey put her hand to her forehead as if she were suddenly developing a headache.

  Trendan chuckled uncomfortably. He felt like he was missing something in Gondrial’s joke. He recovered. “Pleased to meet you, good sir.”

  “You may skip the pleasantries, young half-elf, I have no need for formalities. My parents are highborn, but I don’t have to be.”

  “That makes no sense,” Lady Shey pointed out, almost in a whisper.

  “As you wish,” Trendan stated eloquently.

  “Have you the wagon as I instructed?” Lady Shey said, changing the subject.

  “As requested, my lady, it was the first task I tended to upon arriving in Symbor this morning. It is in the stable here at the inn.”

  “Good, we are in a bit of a hurry. We had some disturbing news on the road, and I want to take care of business and return as soon as possible.”