Legend of Ecta Mastrino Box Set 2

by BJ Hanlon

  The man, twice the size of Edin, looked at him wearily. “My sister says you’re more dangerous than you look. The eluvrian steel blade backs her up.”

  Edin didn’t respond.

  “To me, you look like you could be a nobleman. Though nobles do not travel without their guard.” He let the words hang there.

  “You’re all correct.” Edin forced a smile while trying not to think about the coming destruction. The destruction that he and Arianne needed to get away from. “I am a baron.”

  He was feeling better, almost back to himself actually. The sleep had done great things for him but there was also a feeling of fulfillment. As if they’d fed him again as he slept.

  “A baron? From which city?” he asked slowly and suspiciously and Edin knew he had to be careful.

  The big man could crush Edin’s head like a squash if he wished. But killing a noble as a peasant was instant death if you’re caught and Edin didn’t want to die either.

  Despite feeling almost normal, being able to feel the talent flowing through him like water into a water wheel, he didn’t want to fight anymore humans. Never again.

  “Far to the north. I spent the last winter with Baron Tolson of Coldwater.” He said not exactly answering the question.

  “Tolson?” the name hung on the big guy’s lips as he looked around as if a child seeking approval from an adult.

  There were feet crunching and out of the tree line, they were in a glade Edin noticed, came the raven-haired huntress. “Coldwater, ehh?” she said stepping forward. She hadn’t made a sound since he’d awoke, but now, seemingly on purpose she was clomping around the grounds.

  Melian had her bow across her back and carried an arrow with three rabbits on it. Three large, juicy rabbits that made his stomach churn.

  Edin looked away because for some reason, they reminded him of the rats in Olangia. Edin suppressed a trembling.

  The father said, “You said it yourself, he knows about mintweed.”

  “I said that means he’s a northerner. I don’t believe for a second that he knows Baron Tolson.”

  “Well next time you see him, ask who he last gave the key to the city to,” Edin nearly shouted. Then he began coughing. Coughing heavily and with so much vigor that he shook and cracked the back of his head on something hard.

  There was a creak and pain and he saw lights for a moment.

  Then Edin was back. He was looking up at the sky. The dark sky that somehow still offered an ambient light that hadn’t been cut off by the clouds. If they were clouds.

  Around them there was silence except for the sound of water boiling above his head. He craned his neck but couldn’t see. Then suddenly, the straps around his chest were loosened. Edin looked up and saw Nona.

  She stared down her spectacled nose at Edin and offered a weak smile. “A friend of a friend was once friends with Baron Tolson.”

  “Tolson is a real person?” asked Hotep, “and Coldwater is a real place?”

  “You mean this liar isn’t making it up?” Melian said.

  “He is not. I too fought with the baron’s father years ago,” Papa said.

  So Papa was definitely a soldier. Edin could almost picture the man’s life in action. A story for the ages, he left the family farm at a young age to go and find his fortune. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t but after time soldiering and fighting he came back, fell in love, and raised a family.

  After it ends, did the kids disappoint the father? Did they disappoint the mother?

  It could be a noble life, Edin thought but said nothing.

  His eyes didn’t leave Nona’s. He didn’t want to say Coldwater was gone, that a principality of the state had been destroyed by the evil that was rising.

  Maybe she could tell, maybe she couldn’t, but she just nodded.

  Then his legs were cut free and the old lady took his hand. “Please forgive us, this world has fallen apart.”

  Edin felt the release and blood rushed back into his limbs. Slowly, he followed her soft pull and began to slip onto his feet and then held his head over his knees while he breathed. Edin then glanced toward the fire and the bubbling sound and saw the dark leaves inside. He could almost smell the mintweed.

  “Oh, I know it,” he whispered and started to take a step toward the pot. “And there is nothing to forgive.”

  That step was bad. His legs gave way and Edin fell to a knee. Hotep caught him before he was able to taste a mouthful of dirt. But just barely and Edin received a nose full of the petrichor odor.

  Slowly, he was helped back to his feet and Edin was able to stand using the strength of his own body again. After much holding, like an aide helping a gimp learn to walk again, Edin was able to stumble toward Arianne who’d been laid next to the fire.

  Nona was on the other side now and in her hands was the pot of boiled mintweed. “You know, this will make all of our stews for the next week taste like cat excrement,” she said.

  Edin almost laughed, almost cried, and then he watched as Nona began to pour the warm liquid into a hand-carved wooden mug.

  Then she handed it to him and Edin took the mug. It was the first time that it took all of his strength and concentration to hold something so little. Somehow, he kept it from spilling, and he blew on the top trying to let the steam roll off like a fog during an early spring morn.

  Edin closed his eyes, nearly lost his balance and was righted again by Hotep’s humongous hands.

  Then he leaned over Arianne, looked upon her beautiful but pale skin, her colorless lips, and her closed, unmoving, gray-green eyes. Edin reached out, his fingers nearly numb but shaking with the vigor of a lifelong whiskey drinker as he tried to peal her lips apart.

  He saw Nona looking at him and glanced up. There was meaning and purpose in that look. Soft meaning as of one who had cared for a sick loved one before. ‘I am here to help.’ She said with her eyes.

  Edin didn’t move, didn’t say anything but he thought yes, I need help.

  Nona nodded as if they’d communicated via the wave. Though he knew it wasn’t that and it wasn’t words.

  It was some sort of human intuition; of human understanding. Gently, Nona began to peal Arianne’s lips apart while Edin took a breath to calm the shake and then used his empty hand to lift her head slightly.

  Then he tilted the mug. The liquid rippled slightly, it looked nearly brown in the wooden mug and then slurped toward the edge in small waves.

  A small sheet of dark tea landed on Nona’s finger. Her skin turned red but she made no movement. She made no signal that it had hurt at all.

  Then as it was sloshing, he had a small bit of inspiration, Edin closed his eyes and felt the talent.

  It was there despite how weak he felt. He let it flow through him then, the control over the water and with his thoughts, held the liquid in there with his will.

  The kid started to talk but then there was a shh to quiet him.

  With a thought, Edin let it pour easily and slowly out of the mug and into Arianne’s mouth. His eyes were closed as he poured, but despite that, he could feel the gazes of the family on his back. All but Nona who was staring at him.

  He could feel her gaze most of all.

  The tea poured into her mouth as if it were from a spout made particularly for this exact purpose.

  With Edin’s hand upon the back of her neck, he felt her swallow and gulp. It was an involuntary gag reflex but she continued to drink. Again she swallowed, and he poured more.

  She had four gulps before Nona said, “That’s enough.”

  Edin opened his eyes and glanced to Nona. The old lady was smiling. “You did good,” she said and Edin knew that she understood what had happened and she didn’t care.

  Edin squeezed his lips together. “It takes a little time, but it kills the fever.”

  “Are you a doctor? You’re very young to be skilled with healing?” Duria said from somewhere behind him.

  Edin was beginning to know the people by their voices and in
flections and there was not exactly fear but more awe in her voice. Edin didn’t fit into the entirety of Duria’s world. A world Edin guessed that consisted of the farm, her family, and once in a while a trip to the closest village or city.

  Out here she was lost. She was confused.

  “A doctor, no.” Edin laid Arianne’s head back down on his cloak and sat on his heels. “But I can heal a bit.” He brushed her hair off her face.

  “And you know death,” said Melian, he could see the woman moving nearby out of the corner of his vision.

  “Mel!”

  Edin nodded. He didn’t look up at the hawk girl or her brilliant and knowing mother. He only had eyes for Arianne.

  After a while, her breathing became a bit easier and settled into a quiet and soft rhythm. It was then, that Edin was finally able to relax and take in their campsite.

  The father and mother, Papa and Nona, were on opposite sides of the flames. The young child was now asleep, across from Edin, his head in his mother’s lap while the two siblings stood guard disappearing in and out of the fire.

  They were camped at the side of a small, rather overgrown dirt road clearly having left the field that Edin thought may have once been a farmer’s.

  He didn’t speak to anyone and the dark sky offered little light for the moon was barely a fingernail and the sun had disappeared.

  Something about the moon then caught his eye and as Edin looked more closely at it, he saw there was a film before it. Like a haze of black smoke that was tickling its edges. Edin tilted his head as he stared at it for a bit longer. Was something happening up there?

  There was a sound out to his right. A cracking sound like a branch being broken beneath a foot. Edin looked in that direction but beyond their campfire, the world was black.

  After a bit, he noticed a rock digging into his butt, he lifted it and pulled it from beneath him before throwing it off onto the dirt road. He watched it bounce once and then disappear into the darkness like a man diving into a lake.

  Nona made a stew in the pot she’d boiled the mintweed in and Edin slurped it up. Edin fought the grimace of the mintweed taste. He wouldn’t complain.

  “This tastes awful,” the child said having now woken for supper.

  “Quiet,” hissed his mother.

  Edin knocked his spoon about the bowl. A rabbit stew with potatoes, carrots, celery, and onions.

  “How many rabbits were there?” asked Hotep.

  “Three,” said Melian. “I will need to hunt more soon. We’ll need all the meat we can get if we’re to make it another fifty miles to Valer.”

  “We will have to be smart now,” Papa said. “The road will only get rougher as we ascend and there could be those,” the old man swallowed, “dematians hiding behind any rock. Alone you are vulnerable and the family is worse off.”

  “Come on Papa, let me?” whined Melian like the child she’d been probably a decade ago. “I’m an adult, or do you forget? I’ve hunted with some of the best in all of Dunbilston. I’ve spent nights in the woods alone.”

  “And others with many men I’m sure.” Hotep appeared from behind a tall tree a few yards to their south.

  She shrieked, then grew red and glanced toward Edin, then she looked at her brother with a hateful glare.

  “Do not talk about your sister that way,” hissed Nona. “How would you like your son to speak of his sister like that!”

  “We do not have a daughter.”

  “Not yet. What if you do?”

  After a moment he said, “Apologies mother.” Hotep’s grin faded and his eyes met the road before the fire.

  Edin smiled. The squabbling and bickering were such a sibling dynamic. Or so he’d thought. He never had that, unless he counted Berka.

  A moment later he saw Papa looking at him, then the old man shrugged and said, “I’m sorry you have to see our family squabbles. We do not usually argue or imply the types of things that my son just implied.” Papa glared at his son as well.

  “We certainly do not,” Nona said as she laid the empty bowl next to her.

  “You saved us,” Edin said. “Saved her and had to taste the mintweed in with your supper which is far from pleasant.” He shuddered. “I am your humble servant and am in no place to judge.”

  “I’m sure he’s had arguments, I’m certain of this. This cannot be the first time he has seen folks bicker,” Melian said. “We’re not unique in the world.”

  “I’m sure we are not,” Nona said. “And yes, the stew had a bit of that,” she paused, “that herb; but I enjoyed it and there is more stew if anyone is hungry before I clean it.”

  There was enough stew left for seconds. Despite the taste Edin slurped it up just as greedily as he did the first bowl.

  Edin felt full for the first time since the monastery and that got him thinking about Berka and the monks while he stared at the fire. The abbot hadn’t contacted him with the wave.

  Not since he screamed at Edin. Not since Edin betrayed the world to save Arianne’s life and give them a few days, possibly even weeks together before the end of it all.

  Edin looked up at the sky and wondered what happened to Monk, but deep inside, he knew. The man wouldn’t give up the stone to the dematian king. Not while he was alive anyway.

  The man, thousands of years old, was killed. And Edin murdered him. Just another death on his long list.

  And there’d be so many more when it was over. Everyone he’d ever known would be dead because of him. That deep hurt, the depression was coming again and he could do little to stop it.

  “So where is your family?” said one of the future corpses. The voice was so unexpected that Edin barely registered it at first. He blinked and looked toward the voice. Nona, of course.

  She was scrubbing the large pot with a rag and dumping water into it. There were a few chunks of charred, indistinct vegetables sloshing to the road.

  “My family?” Edin echoed as if not really knowing the words. “My family,” he repeated almost tasting them. His mind first went to his mother. Then other faces came into the picture. First was Arianne and he reached down and clasped her hand. Then he thought of his father, Berka and his friends from the isle, then ‘Uncle’ Grent and ‘Aunt’ Dephina, even the Raven and Ashica, and Lieutenant Elva and Sinndilo. He thought of them and what they were doing to combat this threat. One they fully didn’t understand yet.

  “They’re preparing for war.” Edin said.

  Duria said, “War? You mean they’re preparing to fight those,” her voice dropped to a decibel above a whisper, “dematians.”

  Edin nodded, “We all were.” He took a breath. “We fought north of Intelians a month or two ago. I’m not great remembering exactly when.”

  “Who? The Dunbilston army?” Papa said with the interest of a former soldier.

  The way he held himself, chin up, shoulders back and confident made it seem like he was ready to get back out there.

  “Most of it,” Edin said, “and some Por Fen monks.” Nona raised an eyebrow and her lips pursed but she said nothing.

  Edin sipped water. “The duke was killed in the battle. Sinndilo is now duke and he sent me on a mission.”

  Papa gasped, “Ashtol is dead?”

  Edin nodded.

  Papa closed his eyes and lowered his head. None of the others did, so Edin assumed it wasn’t a custom in the family. Maybe the old man knew him.

  “Do you know the old duke?” asked Melian.

  “I did. I knew the family.” Edin didn’t add that he killed the previous heir, the Marquee, and was hunted by Ashtol before he died. Nor did he mention that he’d been nearly murdered by the duke’s men and just barely got out of Sinndilo’s service by making a false promise. “And it was Duke Sinndilo who sent me on this mission.”

  “What is your mission?” Melian asked. She sounded and appeared generally interested now. Maybe even a bit daunted.

  Edin drank from the waterskin, recruiting the elves, he thought. That was his missi
on, one he’d made up to save Arianne.

  Though Edin couldn’t be blamed for falling off course. Not entirely at least. After all, he was chased off a cliff and forced into a secret pass by the god Vestor. One who hadn’t made an appearance to him since he left the vale.

  South and west. That thought had rolled around in his head like a catchy tune that would soon become thunderously annoying. Edin didn’t know why. And now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure this family was going that way. They said Valer, that was a city he’d never heard of.

  “I’m heading to Calerrat,” Edin said, “I have messages for—”

  “Gah, Calerrat, why would the duke send you to those evil Resholtians?” Melian gasped.

  Papa grumbled but kept his mouth shut. The news of the dead duke must’ve hit him.

  How many battles did that man fight against Edin’s home state? How many friends were killed by Resholt steel and arrows?

  Edin glanced over at Duria. She was thin and pretty if not a bit homely looking in the firelight. This was probably the furthest she’d ever been from her village.

  Then he looked to Melian. “If you have seen what the dematians can do, what they’re capable of, your definition of evil would change drastically.

  “What have they done?” asked Melian, interested.

  With the memory of the pile in Glustown coming to his thoughts, Edin turned to her. “Much evil.”

  A moment later, something clattered to the ground next to him. Edin looked at it and saw Mirage sheathed. The unadorned pommel blinked up at him in the orange glow.

  “You might need that,” said Hotep. “I assume you know how to use it.”

  Edin nodded. He picked it up but didn’t pull the blade. Instead, he laid it across his lap and fiddled with the leather sheath. Edin realized there was a design on it, three circles all interlocked and forming a triangle. Through them was a single line. He had no idea what it meant, probably a symbol of the maker.

  Edin looked over to Arianne and thought there was a bit more color in her skin now. Or maybe that was just a fanciful hope.