by R A Lewis
“More than fair, ma’am,” she said enthusiastically.
“Call me Anna,” Anna said and sat down beside Roguelyn as she finished her meal.
Chapter 6
Roguelyn wiped her brow with her forearm, the warm fall sun slanting through the branches. She had stayed with Anna for a week so far, chopping wood, felling trees, and piling up more wood for the coming winter. Anna had been more than generous with the food she fed Roguelyn, and she had even given her a comfy nest of blankets to snuggle with in front of the fire. Roguelyn felt the itch to move on, to make headway in her quest to find her father, but she still hadn’t formed a solid plan, and being safe and warm for the moment seemed more important. She paused her chopping, resting the head of her axe on the stump of a tree she was using as a base, and propped her arms on it, taking deep, cleansing breaths of the crisp mountain air and looked out around her at the leaves changing and the clouds scudding across the orange, pink, and purple sky. Soon, she would be called in for supper, and she’d enjoy a relaxing evening by the fire. Anna had even promised her a warm bath if she hauled the water, and she was looking forward to bathing in the warmth.
She bent to pull wood splinters from the tops of her boots, when the sound of a bridle jingling caught her ear. She froze, mid bend, listening. Anna didn’t own horses, not even a milk cow, only an old nanny goat. There is was again, the soft jingle of a horse’s bridle followed by the soft thump of a hoof in the mossy undergrowth of the forest. She straightened slowly and acted as if she hadn’t heard. She bent for another piece of wood and walked around till she was facing the woods. Under the pretense of setting up her swing, she eyed the woods, searching for the source of the sound. She couldn’t spot any movement, so she swung down, slicing the piece of wood in half. Her shoulders were building up muscles nicely from all the chopping, adding to the muscles she had built since joining the army. She then took the axe and began to walk nonchalantly back towards the house. She walked inside, still carrying the axe and casually picked up her bag from where she’d left it, perpetually packed in case of a situation like this.
Anna looked up from where she was preparing dinner with a questioning look on her lined face.
“I’m sorry, Anna. I have to go. Is there a back-way out of the house?” Roguelyn looked around, it was a two roomed cabin as far as she could tell, Anna’s bedroom and this main room. Anna frowned and nodded.
“This way, dear.” Anna motioned, wiping her hands on her apron and heading into her room, leading Roguelyn to a small door. “The woods are just beyond this door. Wait here a moment,” Anna disappeared back into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a packet of jerky and a loaf of bread wrapped in a clean cloth. “Take this. And good luck young man.” She smiled and then went back into the other room, humming as she went. Roguelyn stood there, stunned. She was surprised that Anna wouldn’t ask any questions, that she would just let her leave without a second guess. She pushed open the back door slowly and waited on the step, listening. From the front of the house she heard the sounds of horses approaching, and with no other option, she quietly ran into the cover of the trees a few dozen paces away. She circled back around to the front of the cottage and hid herself after having found her sword belt and strapping it back on. She watched, hidden by some ferns. A small group of horsemen approached, all clad in dull colors, but she recognized one as a captain from her company. And with a jolt, she recognized the fourth rider as he removed his cap. His red hair shone copper in the failing fall light. Will.
Roguelyn gasped, covering her mouth at the sight of him. Was he betraying her a second time? Or had he been dragged along, as insurance. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. The anger that had boiled within her resurfaced, and she turned decidedly as Anna came out onto her front steps. She then walked away, down the mountain, further into enemy territory, and into the unknown.
Roguelyn was struggling to stay awake, dead on her feet, every muscle aching, as she trudged through the last of the woods and hills and into farmland. In front of her, farms dotted with the occasional stand of trees stretched out for miles, all the way to the sea, which was invisible in the distance. She knew the general direction she wanted was the sea. Castle Iredale lay in that direction, and that was where her father was. She hoped. But it had been almost two days since she’d eaten anything, dragging out the spare bit of food she’d gotten from Anna and finding water in streams to fill her wine skin along the way. She was tired and sore and ready to find some place comfy to curl up and sleep. She paused, hoping to find a landmark, or a house to aim for, and saw in the distance, a few leagues off, a small town. She picked up her feet and trudged onward, down into the flat expanse of Gadel.
She reached the town as night fell, a soft rain starting to fall around her. To her delighted exhaustion, there was an inn brightly lit, with music and laughter pouring out of its open door part way down the street. She stepped inside to find a raucous crowd of locals beating out the rhythm on their knees, dancing to and fro, and singing uproariously to a bard in the corner. He had long strawberry blonde hair, laughing green eyes, a quick smile, and a long, pointed beard. His energy was catching, and Roguelyn found herself smiling at his antics as she made her way towards the bar. Once there she found the bartender to be a squat, balding man in his fifties, who seemed kind enough. She flagged him down.
“Do you have room in your stables for a weary traveler?” she asked, just wanting someplace warm and soft to lay her head. He shook his head.
“No, but I do have a small room available. It’s comfortable enough, and would suit you well young man.” He pointed at a small door behind the stairs. Roguelyn shook her head sadly.
“I don’t have any money to offer,” she said. “Is there something I can do to earn my night, and perhaps a meal?” The man looked her over; she was dead on her feet, that was clear.
“Yes, but how about we get a meal in you first, and you get some sleep, and in the morning you can help me wash the dishes, prepare the meals for the day, and chop me some wood. How does that sound?”
“That sounds more than fair, sir,” Roguelyn said gratefully. It was funny how just a few months in the military had humbled her so much that doing work for food, or sleeping on the ground in the woods, or sleeping in a stable with the horses seemed normal and comfortable. Granted, she had fallen asleep in the stables in her own castle often enough, after hard training bouts in the yard, or hours spent mucking out stalls. But at this point, she was grateful for any kindness and comfort.
The bartender told her to sit, and disappeared through a door behind the bar. Roguelyn looked around her, at the good humor on the faces of the people in the room, and marveled at the homeliness and belonging it made her feel. She wondered if the people of Gadel were any different from her own, if they wanted the war that was between their countries, or if they were just focused on living their lives. She did note that she was the youngest there, the majority of the patrons being in their fifties, or with some visible malady. The other youngest man was the bard, who seemed in his thirties. Roguelyn turned back around abruptly when the bartender loudly set a plate heaped with food in front of her. Her eyes went wide at the piles of potatoes, the large slab of brisket, and the huge roll of bread slathered with butter, steaming hot from the oven.
“Eat up. You look like you haven’t eaten in days!” the bartender said good naturally.
“I haven’t,” she said, and took a huge bite of the roll, warm butter dripping down her chin.
Part way through her meal, the bard took a break, begging the need for an ale to wet his lips. He pushed his way through the crowd until he was at her side, and leaned on the bar facing her. He motioned to the bartender for an ale and then turned back to her. He eyed her critically, his green eyes dancing with mirth.
“You look road weary and foot sore,” he stated, giving her a wink. Roguelyn paused mid chew, a bit embarrassed as she tried to wipe the butter from her chin and answer. Maybe they didn’t get
many travelers through here. “Oh, don’t fret. I’m just making conversation!” he stated jovially. “I’m Henndo, Henndo Anson at your service.” He gave a low bow, almost dunking the tip of his pointed hat into her potatoes. He straightened up. “Oops! Sorry about that young man!” He clutched his hat, which hung like a long pointed bright green night cap off the top of his head. Roguelyn couldn’t help but smile at his gay demeanor, and stuck out a hand.
“I’m Rawlin,” she said, shaking his hand, and then going back to her food, looking at him sideways. Henndo nodded and smiled, and took the ale the bartender set before him.
“You’re not from around here are you?” he asked, making conversation. Roguelyn panicked, and took a large bite of potato to buy herself time to think. She needed a backstory if she was going to make this work. She tried to remember her lessons on geography and what towns in Gadel she could remember. The only one she could remember was Hoatam, which lay directly across the border and across the bay from Wresley in her own country. The two cities seemed separate from the rest of the kingdom because they lay so close, separated only by a river. At the beginning of the war, they had devastated each other, almost wiping out their cities’ entire populations. So they had declared peace, in hopes of rebuilding, and keeping the war off their shores.
“Hoatam,” she stated when her mouth was empty.
“Hoatam! I’ve been there! Traveled there a few years ago. Nice town, loved being on the ocean, but it was a little rough looking. Still rebuilding from the war, it was. Is this your first time out in the country?” Henndo sipped his ale, smacking his lips and smiling. “Nothing like a good ale to wet the whistle.” He winked at her, and Roguelyn smiled back.
“Yea. I decided I needed to make my way in the world. Do some exploring,” Roguelyn agreed, making up her back story as she went along.
“Where are you headed? I myself travel all over the country, singing in taverns for my dinners,” Henndo said. Relaxing back onto a bar stool and getting comfortable. Roguelyn eyed him, as it looked like he was going to sit for a spell.
“The capitol. I’m hoping to find some work and learn a few new skills,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, with a shrug as she mopped up the last of the sauce from the potatoes and brisket with her last piece of roll.
“Well, well, well. I’m headed there too, day after tomorrow. Would you fancy a traveling companion? I could always use someone interesting to travel with, and finding a place to stay is easier with two sets of hands and eyes,” he offered, genuine curiosity in his dancing green eyes.
Roguelyn thought for a moment. It might be nice to not travel alone, and those pursuing her were looking for someone traveling alone, not with a companion. She was less likely to starve with company, and if this bard knew the capitol, he might be able to help her find her father, or at least point her towards where he might be if she asked the right questions. So she nodded.
“Sure. That might be nice. At the very least, you can show me where to go in the city once we get there.” Henndo grinned at her and nodded vigorously.
“Absolutely, my good man Rawlin!” He said enthusiastically, thumping her on the back. “I look forward to our journey together into the vast world!” Roguelyn smiled in response.
Chapter 7
Roguelyn walked under the arching gate in the outer wall of the capital of Gadel. Iredale Castle rose above her in towering turrets and balconies. Between her and the castle lay twisting streets filled with people, carts, horses, dogs running underfoot chasing cats, and children chasing dogs.
Everything was lively and bustling, filled with activity and life. Having grown up in a castle away from the capitol, Roguelyn was used to a calmer, more laid-back existence. Despite the parties her mother threw, the most activity she ever saw in one place was her castle kitchens just before a banquet. She felt a little overwhelmed; even the military camp she had been in was calmer, more orderly, since men had duties to attend to and were always at some purpose. Henndo walked beside her, a little bounce in his step, like everything before him was new and exciting, something to discover or explore.
Traveling with him had been a breeze. He knew all the best inns, and he was always able to get them a bed, even if it was in the stable loft in the soft, warm hay. He passed his good fortune on to Roguelyn, and had made a fast friend of her. He didn’t know her real story, but he was genuine and interesting, and always ready for an adventure. She followed him as he led the way through the confusing streets and a teeming marketplace, thick with shoppers and sellers hawking their wares. Roguelyn’s head whipped around constantly, looking at all the things for sale. In her mountain castle they had market days, and they were a joyous affair, occurring monthly with people coming from all over the country to sell their wares, and often the people of the castle made it a sort of celebration, with weddings and birthday celebrations usually happening on market days. But this was different. Henndo had told her it was a daily occurrence, every day a market day, and it was a new thing for her.
One stall was selling bright new swords, and Roguelyn paused for a brief moment, her wide eyes taking in the gorgeously wrought hilts set with gems. Past the man selling the swords, Roguelyn caught a glimpse of a man. Everything about him was dark, and for a moment Roguelyn’s stomach flip flopped, thinking it was Cole. But this man, while possessing similar dark hair and eyes, was handsome, much larger than Cole had been, was watching her with a shrewd eye. Roguelyn straightened and looked away from him, hurrying to catch up to Henndo.
She was stymied by a group of women who were oddly dressed. Roguelyn had to pause, letting them pass before her as she tried to keep her eyes on the back of Henndo’s retreating head, when she overheard the women speaking.
“All these filthy women. All of them dressed like whores,” one woman hissed to the other beside her. This made Roguelyn stop short. She looked around her, noticing that the majority of the women in the marketplace were dressed in layers of long skirts, bodices, and long-sleeved shirts. She turned back to the gaggle of women before her, puzzled. These women were covered head to toe, only their faces displayed to the crisp fall air that swirled through the crowded market. Their hair was covered, even their hands bore gloves. Roguelyn wondered vaguely if they were hot under all that clothing.
“Well, none of them deserve to know The Excellent Magistrate,” another woman said hotly.
“Then how are we to recruit more wives?” the third, and youngest, asked. All three women stopped talking abruptly when they noticed Roguelyn. Roguelyn smiled as politely as she could, and held out her arm for them to pass.
“Such a nice young man,” the first woman said as they hurried past Roguelyn. Roguelyn hurried beyond them, aiming for the gap in the crowd through which she’d spotted Henndo disappear. As she searched for her friend and guide she wondered who they were talking about. She’d have to ask Henndo when she caught up to him. She found him a few moments later.
He led her off the main thoroughfare and onto side streets which were full of inns and shops. Roguelyn asked him questions as they went.
“Henndo, do you know who The Excellent Magistrate is?” Henndo looked sideways at her sharply.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning to join that insipid cult?” Roguelyn was taken aback.
“What cult?” Henndo sighed as he led her down another side street.
“The Excellent Magistrate is the leader of this cult called The Eternal Ministry. They started here in Iredale a few decades ago as a way for the more conservative men and women to find wives and husbands. But it has grown out of proportion and soon they went from a small group to a full-blown cult. The women are as good a slaves, the men no better than abusive slave owners, and they are always recruiting, brainwashing the younger men and women with a romanticized view of love and marriage and death,” he paused, looking seriously at her. “Promise me you have no intention of joining them, Rawlin.” Roguelyn took a step back.
“Of course not, Henndo. Why would I ever
want to be a part of that?”
“Many of the crippled young men coming back from war are taken in. They worship the death god Fordar, and believe being crippled in battle is the way the death god has shown you favor.” Roguelyn shivered.
Henndo pushed open the door of an inn on the corner of a side street and walked inside, Roguelyn following, apprehension building in her stomach. She was nervous but excited. A genuine cult, which was fascinating enough, but she was finally in the city where her father was being kept. Inside was a dingy tavern, a bar along the back wall, behind it two doors, one leading to a set of stairs, and the other to what Roguelyn assumed was a kitchen. The front of the house sported a large fireplace on one end and a cozy seating area on the other, tables dotted in between. It was covered in dust and obviously hadn’t been cleaned in ages. An old innkeeper stood behind the counter, slowly rubbing a tankard with a stained cloth. He glanced up when the door opened and a wide smile spread across his lips.
“Henndo, my boy! Welcome back!” he said, placing the tankard on the counter next to a group of others, wiping his hands on the cloth before throwing it over his shoulder and coming around the bar. Henndo broke into a grin, his arms opening in welcome.
“Hob Forester, you old fool. How are ya?” He embraced the large man, his arms barely reaching around the innkeeper's large girth. Roguelyn smiled despite her trepidation and followed Henndo.
“Oh, the same as always,” Hob paused, noticing Roguelyn behind Henndo. “Who’s this young man you’ve brought with you? Another stray?” He winked at Roguelyn.
“You know, just something I picked up on the road. Hob, this is Rawlin,” Henndo gestured to Roguelyn, encouraging her to come forward. Roguelyn did, extending her hand to shake Hob’s large palm.
