The Emissary (Dawn of Heroes Book 1)

by H. A. Harvey

  Karen’s expression promised a curt retort, but a familiar voice parried the blow for David, “Everyone knows Karen only takes a step back to get a running start.”

  Rowan’s verdant form propped itself in the open doorway of the tavern, a bright smile framed by his dark eyes and long hair hanging loose about his shoulders and torso. He stood and started forward, but had hardly completed one of his long, casual strides when Karen nearly tackled him with a hug.

  “Rowan! I hoped you’d come, but I had no idea where or how to send an invitation. By the Twelve though, promise you’ll have a bath before the wedding tomorrow.” Karen tugged him along by the shoulders to where David stood, still holding the sullied mugs, “David, you know Rowan. He’s been a dear friend to my brother and I since. . .well just about forever I guess.”

  David nodded and shifted his burden all to his left arm to extend the other, “Yes, of course, quite the legendary huntsman, and half the age of any that can call themselves a competitor I hear.”

  “That’s because they all visit the wild to hunt, I live there and visit here.” Rowan clasped David’s wrist and gave it a hearty shake. “Sadly, I’ll not be able to stay for the ceremony, I should be off already Karen, but your brother seems to have enlisted me in his own nuptial plans. Yet I did bring a gift from Crys. . .and I suppose I helped a bit too.”

  “Oh you can’t vanish in the mists again so quick! Wait, what gift?” Karen immediately started to eye Rowan’s satchel as though she could peer through the leather if she focused hard enough. She struggled in vain to shift over to his side and lift the flap herself.

  “Now don’t go spilling my possessions all over your floor,” Rowan stepped to David’s side to purchase enough time to draw out a small parcel wrapped in a silver fox skin tied with fresh green reed. He didn’t so much hand Karen the present as release it just quick enough to avoid having his hand snapped off in the process.

  Karen deftly untied the reed and unfolded the fine fur to reveal a large figure, or small doll woven of living vine in intricate detail. The figure was that of an elegant lady, with vine stems twining together to form her limbs, and the leaves falling just so as to form an extravagant and voluminous court gown. A single exotic flower of the deepest hue of purple sat atop her head, canted to one side as though serving as some grand hat or extravagant hairstyle. The woman gasped at the beauty of the small thing. Only the doll’s right foot seemed imperfect, as a tangle of roots hung wild from the end of her limb.

  “Did it get damaged on the way?” David queried.

  Rowan shook his head, “Not at all, it’s unfinished, the last step has to be with Karen present. . .and requires a little bit of trust. May I?”

  He took Karen’s free hand in his and drew out a small knife. David immediately started to protest but was quickly hushed by Karen, who watched with rapt curiosity. Rowan expertly lanced the tip of Karen’s thumb so that a single dot of blood formed upon it, then nodded toward the doll’s foot.

  “Touch the drop to the root”

  No sooner had Karen done as instructed than the blood seemed to be drawn into the roots like water through a straw. The roots curled on themselves and tightened until they seemed to meld together. In moments, the right foot was indistinguishable from the left. A squeal of delighted amazement escaped Karen’s lips.

  “It is a bond-weave,” Rowan explained, “Chrys began the process with a drop of her own blood. The doll is a single roper’s vine from the Kaesan Wilds, and never grows this far Spireward. Anyway, the weave, this one is a doll, is bound to you and to Chrys, or more correctly, to your relationship. While it flourishes, the vine will never wither, and the doll will heal, even if badly damaged. Only if one of you is ailing, or your friendship fades, will the doll begin to wilt.”

  “Kaesan?” Even more than the magic, the mention of an unknown land lit a sparkle in Karen’s eyes.

  Rowan nodded, “Yes, as I hear it is somewhere at the far Gateward edge of the Avan Empire. She has travelled a bit more than even I have. I had heard she made it to the Gold Coast and I lost touch for a while, but apparently she’s befriended a few people with magical sight, because she had this ferried through several of our folk to me. . .along with a message that if I didn’t get it to you before you were married, she’d find me.” He sighed, “I didn’t need the threat, but I hope you like it. It can be your link to far off lands.”

  “I love it.” Karen stared at the doll in a watery eyed reverie for several moments until David cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

  “I’ll get these to the kitchen.” He clacked the wooden mugs together and nodded to Karen and Rowan. “Please try to relax a little.”

  “I should be on my way as well. Thanks to your brother, I’ve half a dozen stops through town before I can head on to the lumber camp. He’s right though, you should relax and enjoy yourself. After all, it’s your party.”

  Karen shook her head, “Not a chance. You’re gone for more than two years and I get less than two minutes to catch up? Come, I’ll go with you through town. If I get out of here, maybe I can let the others take over when I get back, make David happy.”

  “Make David happy? What about you? The Karen I knew couldn’t be made to stay in the tavern and help with the work if you chained her to the bar.”

  Karen laughed a little wearily as they strode out into the afternoon light. She opened her mouth as she searched for the words to respond. Yet she paused, losing her train of thought as she saw Nian out on the commons, drinking and chatting with the mercenaries. When her eyes fell on the small girl with bright red and gold hair, she turned to Rowan.

  “A Dryad?” Karen half huffed the query, “How is it I went on at least a hundred trips into the woods with you and Chrys, but the boy that won’t venture past the old Spire oak is the first to meet one?”

  “Ah, dumb luck?” Rowan shrugged, “They don’t travel, at least I never heard of one that did. In that, I’d say a Dryad’d be perfect for Ni, if one lived in the middle of town. But this one apparently does travel, which means she’s either not a Dryad or she’s weird, either way, bad news for Nian. No you don’t!” He caught Karen’s arm as she started toward the commons. “You let him fend for himself on this one. Who knows, maybe if he’s luckier than I give him credit for, you can meet a Dryad as a sister-in-law. C’mon.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Karen didn’t say another word as they moved down the street, and her eyes remained fixed on the apple tree party until they turned the corner back toward the stone bridge. Karen lingered at the edge of the corner until Tombo, bringing up the rear, nudged her out of view. She snapped out of her thought and, after giving the hampan an annoyed look, hurried to fall in step with Rowan. Giving an exasperated sigh, she pulled the tether from the end of her braid and worked it apart nimbly until she could shake her hair free to hang to her hips.

  “That’s better.” Karen sighed and tucked the leather tie in the pocket of her apron.

  Rowan chuckled, “Just think, tomorrow you can tie your hair up in a lady-like bun with a silk ribbon.”

  His laughter was cut short as Karen’s foot scooped his from under him mid-stride. “Not on your life! I may not be free after tomorrow, but I’ll be damned if my hair has to suffer the same fate. Davy’s signin’ on to get me. If he wants a proper lady he needs to look elsewhere.”

  Rowan picked himself up, getting a few strides lead as he retorted, “Ah, in such honeyed words does her ladyship speak of her beloved.”

  “You shut your m-“ Karen scooped up a stone to hurl after Rowan, but wilted as she hauled back to take aim, instead tossing the stone ahead of them to skip off the rail of the stone bridge and into the water below. She twined her forearms across her chest and walked after her friend. “I feel rotten about this all over. It might even be easier if I didn’t like David, or even if he was some sort of lecherous old goat. But he�
�s not, and I do like him, I even used to flirt with him because he was cute. He doesn’t put on airs, he’ll take care of me and my folks, and he loves me, absolutely and insanely.”

  “But you don’t?”

  Karen shook her head, “I don’t now, but I keep telling myself I will, once I grasp all he’s done for me. But-but I’m afraid I’ll end up hating him, and none of it is his fault.” She sighed heavily, “It’s mine. When father fell ill, I thought I could hold things up until Nian was old enough to take over. He loves the tavern, and never wants to leave this sleepy little town. But I ruined everything, I spent so many hours out in the woods or off driving to this town or that, I didn’t know anything about running the place. If I had, perhaps my savings would have held to now, or at least we wouldn’t be further in debt than we could hope to repay in a year of no expenses and crowds of cus-“

  Rowan grasped Karen’s shoulders, “That’s enough, Kay.”

  “But I can fix it.” She smiled at him, “I just have to stay here, marry a good man, who loves me, and be comforted the rest of my life.”

  “And give up your dream of seeing the far corners of the world.” Rowan’s hands fell down Karen’s arms to grasp her fingers. “You know, I always planned on being your scout when you set off on your grand adventure.”

  “I was counting on it. . .” Karen’s gaze fell to their hands, and she gave his the briefest of squeezes before sliding her fingers free and smoothing the side of her dress. “But that’s the price of the choices I made. I keep to my gilded cage, Nian gets the tavern, father is cared for, and you get to see the world. I can live with that, as long as you stop by now and then with an interesting story.”

  “Y-you knew?” Rowan’s face flushed a shade darker.

  Karen laughed softly and nodded, “Why do you think I stopped flirting with David in the first place? Seriously Ro, you move through a field of dry sticks like a shadow, but with people, you’re about as subtle as Tombo when he’s hungry. Chrys knew too, why do you think she sent her gift through you instead of coming herself? I’d wager she didn’t come because she doesn’t think there’ll be a wedding. She figured you’d sweep in and rescue me, and we’d dash off in the night and set out on the road.”

  “We could, you know.” Rowan lifted Karen’s chin and met her gaze.

  “I know, and my father wouldn’t last another month, mother would perhaps find work in someone’s kitchen, and Nian would at best end up working someone else’s fields.”

  “Nian could come with us, and-“ Karen’s laughter cut Rowan off.

  “Nian loves this place. He wouldn’t leave if the town were on fire and you tried to drag him out.” Karen stretched up and kissed Rowan on the cheek, “When have I ever needed rescuing Ro? I’ll be fine, but I should go back. I should actually be at the party the town’s throwing for me. . .and if I get too much closer to the edge of town my legs might overcome my sense.”

  Rowan nodded, “You’d never get far in that dress anyway. I’ll look in on you from time to time and I promise to bring stories. For now, I’d say brush your hair before you get back to the party. You look like a forest rat.”

  “I am a forest rat, I always will be. It doesn’t matter how many expensive dresses I wear.” Karen reached out and gave Rowan’s hand a squeeze before turning to go and patting Tombo on the shoulder as she passed back down the street toward the tavern.

  2

  The Dark of Night

  Nian sat beneath the great oak in the starlight. The banquet had been stifling. More than half the town had turned out by late afternoon when the Dryad and her wolves left. Well before sundown, Nian had found himself slipping out and wandering aimlessly. Before he knew it, he found himself at the base of the falls, staring up the chimney he and Rowan always started up on their climb. He’d managed the climb in time to watch Phoenix settle over the Clockward horizon beyond the great, dark green blanket of the Lone Wood. With the light from the gates faded away, he sat in the tranquil shadows and listened. He would have to circle around several hours’ walk in the dark to find the trail down the cliff, but he didn’t mind.

  He had never been up above the cliff at night. The evening mists were rolling in, down from the mountain pass and up off the lake, and muted the world like a down blanket being swept over everything. Even the roar of the falls soon faded to a background echo of its mighty cacophony. Oddly, other sounds carried across the rising mist and up the cliffs to his shadowed perch among the oak roots.

  Below in Longmyst, the blanket of white rose up from the lake, filling the streets with flowing rivers of vapor up half the height of the front doors to every small home along the cobbled paths. Nian sat, watched, and listened. The revelry, still under way in the tavern, sent echoes of music and laughter drifting up through the valley to him. Somewhere, a dog bark reverberated across the valley. Nian sat forward and marveled at how the starlight caught in the vapor, bathing the town in a soft, surreal glow.

  It was then he spied the riders moving through the mist. Coming from the Clockward road down across the commons, six dark shapes swam steadily through the mists. Peering closely, he was able to see they were riders. He marveled at how the mist, now up to the horses’ chests, broke and swirled before them, much as he imagined the sea would before the prow of a ship under full sail.

  He wondered to himself if they were late-comers to the party, and he leaned forward, eager at the thought perhaps Autumn had gathered her other companions and returned to celebrate after all. He quickly decided he hoped too much, for watching the riders, there was no glint of mail. Moreover, any resident of Tyre, even a sheltered inkeep’s son, knew horses well enough to see no destrier travelled with this lot even over such a distance in dim light. As he watched, the riders reached the commons, now a murky lake of white fed by the half-dozen streets that emptied into it, and stopped before the bright torchlight dancing out through the tavern windows.

  To Nian’s surprise, none moved to tether their horses, but instead, spread along the front of the tavern. Another group of six riders entered the commons from a more Gateward street, joining their comrades. The presence of the newcomers prompted Nian to look elsewhere about the town. Here and there, he saw similar packs of riders, always he counted half a dozen. At his best guess, three other groups were moving through the town.

  Nian’s eye was drawn back to the tavern as the men there dismounted and approached the building. A handful vanished into the shadows around the sides of the inn, while the others moved toward the door and, curiously enough, the windows. Concern furrowed Nian’s brow as the odd movements of the men caused the hair at the back of his neck to stand on end. Atop the inn’s roof, the shadow of a man crept alongside the smoking chimney that lead to the great hearth in the common room of the tavern. After a few moments, this rooftop shadow sprouted a light, as though from a shuttered lantern, cutting a beam through the rising mists.

  The beam swept aimlessly a moment before pointing back across the town’s rooftops in the direction the first riders had come. Nian followed the light with his eyes, and from his elevated position, saw far out in the fields that a black square sat in the midst of one of the Brighthold grain fields. Nian stood and leaned out as far as he dared over the cliff, squinting to make more of the shape. As he noted a team of horses or ponies to one side and determined it must be a cart or carriage, the song of a low horn issued from it, haunting its way across the misty valley.

  At once, the lurking strangers sprang into action. Those at the windows of the tavern banged shutters closed, bracing them with long sticks before running to the doorway. There, two of their comrades sank against the wall to either side of the door. Atop the roof, the lantern clapped closed and the shadowed man threw a piece of shadow over the chimney, breaking the trail of smoke from the festival below. About the town, the other riders, now afoot as well, crashed through doors, some into shops and others homes.

  As
the echoes of the horn faded from the valley, so too did that of merriment and mirth. In their place came harsh shouts and screams of terror. The door to the tavern swung outward and people spilled into the street. Nian watched in horror as the men to the sides of the door laid to with dark weapons in their hands upon those escaping the billowing smoke. The hapless townsfolk staggered and fell under the blows, immediately set upon and dragged to the side by the other men.

  Nian started to turn but stopped short, the trail down the cliff would take an hour at a dead run. In desperation he darted over to the cliff face where he and Rowan’s climbing chimney came up, but the night’s shadow showed him nothing but black abyss down to the silvery spray of the falls. He balked at the thought that flashed over his mind.

  The roar of the great river was almost mute compared to the ruckus below, a strange trick of the mists. Two hundred feet the torrent poured a thousand barrels a minute over the rim of the falls and crashed into the pool below with force enough to crack a boulder. More than a few times in the town’s history had heartbroken lovers or destitute farmers leapt into the Longmyst Falls, and none were seen again. Then the mists shifted with a sudden draft, and seemed to carry away all sound. The crashing falls, shouts, and cries were all gone. A single sound pierced the vacuum of silence; a single cry carried by a voice Nian knew well, but had never heard it’s like before.

  “Karen!” Nian called aloud as his mind flashed a vision of his sister with cruel black blades descending on her. When his senses returned to him, he was weightless. In an endless moment of stillness, he cast his gaze about, finding grass and stone gone from beneath his feet, replaced by naught but empty air, and a churning cloud of mist and vapor far below. Here, beneath the blanket of mist, the roar of the falls was deafening. Then, as though making up for the lost moment, the plunging water swept past and the churning, silver tomb below rushed up to meet and swallow him.