Sapling: The Blade of Ahtol Page 2

  The man did nothing as his money pouch was removed. He continued his slow methodical steps as he listened to the nearly undetectable taps upon the ground grow dimmer. His mind pondered over the girl's unwitting demonstration. She was fast, he thought, calculating and certainly showed talent in accessing the Root but she was still young and unpolished. He could feel her breathing; she was watching him now and most likely full of herself. She had no way of knowing that others would be looking for her as well. Her raw skill and connection to the Pattern was potent which made a desirable prize for the Defilers. They masked their actions skillfully and went unnoticed by common folk.

  So many had been taken swiftly and unseen. Families left in awful anguish of loss. It was now clear the girl was their next target. Upon her capture, they would use her innate ability to fuel one of their foulest rituals. They had done so in the previous month with the others like her, bound within secretive holdings all throughout Kenhar. The Defilers masked their true purposes under the guise of academics and politics. On the surface they could be pleasant and genial. Many of those taken were led away carefully through guile rather than through force.

  Yet none of these could escape his notice. Their foolish dabbling was dangerous and threatened life on all of Aeredia. They could not hope to control the potent forces of the Chaotic Void by attempting to bind them. He shook his head sadly; blinded by ambition, they were foolish and unwary. They could not fathom pure destructive energy of that magnitude. Nor could they see the outcome of that act. The Defilers were power hungry and blind, and would soon lose control of what they unleashed. One thing was certain, as a whole world, Aeredia would come undone with the clash of potency of both Aerluin and the Dark One within the Void.

  The man pulled himself from his dark sentiments. They would make their moves just as he would now make his. He had heard the whispers upon his soul. The direction from Mother was clear: to stop the Defilers from reaching the girl at all costs. They saw her as a mere binding link for their demon, but she was much more than that. No one but Aerluin could possibly know her potential.

  He would assist the girl as she walked the path of fate, though to which end he knew not. The road of corruption could be chosen as easily as that of truth and discipline. One could hardly know how such things would pass. The choice would be hers ultimately, for good or ill. Fate was like that. He continued moving slowly through the flooded streets.

  The tender plant had only begun to grow - sprouting heavenward with potential despite the oppressive downpour. It was shooting forth from its native earth with determination into the waiting darkness.

  Treasures

  THE MORNING was still as the sun prepared to peak over the crags of Tamers Reach. From within the lands of Jandor, a quiet evil was stirring. The slow and guttural chants of many voices grew in cadence and intensity. The voices wound their words together forming like a fabric of the blackest kind. As the web grew and took shape, the crescendo seemed to penetrate all, through the rocks and forest glens to empty city streets. It stirred every heart in the land, even into dreams. Finally, in one terrific shout, the black seething mass awoke. Methodically, every chanting voice was silenced one by one; a cruel and agonizing payment for service. With every death, the entity found more life. Then suddenly, it was over. The chanting ceased and all became still. Certain people woken from the strange event had wondered what it was that moved in them and then within a moment it was gone. There were some however who knelt and prayed for the mercies of the Mother to be with the people of Kenhar. It was those few who sensed the change - evil had found new form in Aeredia. The memory of the dream entrenched itself deep into their minds. It was a foreboding sense of fear and helplessness that latched itself to the shadows of the subconscious.

  Firah awoke screaming, drenched in a sweat. She cursed her mind. This horrific experience had happened once before, equally potent and disturbing. She shuffled over to the wash bin, now full with last night’s rain. Splashing the water across her face she tried to remove the stained memories of her sleep. They would not depart. What were they? Every time a large dripping mass of blackness, an utter abomination against nature! It frightened her to her very centre and yet it was strangely compelling at the same time. She always felt drawn towards it. In her dream, the more she tried to flee the grotesque and overpowering form, the closer it would come. It was a frightening experience. She felt that only by giving into the darkness would she find peace. There were moments when she would almost falter and consider embracing the seductive nightmare. It was at those times that she would see that same creature. It was four legged and seemed to shimmer and meld with the dream. It was an animal spirit, but it was unlike any that she knew. Always it would latch onto her with powerful jaws and pull her back from the brink.

  She splashed more water on her burning face. It was like this too afterwards. She would feel ill and catch fever. Some would say that running about in the rain caused her illness but she knew better. She wandered about in storms all the time; she cherished the rain. No, this was always after those nightmares … always.

  Firah glanced at herself in the settling water. Her green eyes sparkled in the new day sun which reflected off the water’s surface. Her hair was a mess of dark brown tangles, and frowning she tied it back with a leather strap. Firah was in her seventeenth year but she was often regarded as too young to be on her own. The older townswomen reminded her constantly that there were predators and evil men about who would abuse her youth and purity. ‘Well, I can handle myself, thank you very much’ she mused within. Turning slightly she looked upon the water’s flowing surface; Firah knew she wasn’t an eyesore. Many a man had cast a glance her way, and yet she had no interest in choosing someone to be with. Such things complicated life. She touched the shift she wore and admired the way it accentuated her features. Still, it was getting a little thread bare. ‘It might be time to invest in some new clothes …’ she thought to herself.

  She groaned and slumped down ungracefully into her makeshift chair. Cloth was very expensive in the country. Not to mention that she had little skill in sewing or patching. Those services were available in town but once again at a high price. The big cities were cheaper, but she could not abide long in those places. She needed to be outdoors and free, not caged within large city walls. It seemed to be a part of her very soul and something she could never understand nor explain. It just felt right living out here in the forest. It was about a half hour walk to the town and they generally supplied all her needs. It was in the big city that she had bought her knife and then in a flash, had quickly departed the odours and entrapping walls. She had considered stealing one but the other fact about cities was their tighter security and harsher laws. Once she had been caught pilfering in Lenhir and she spent half a day in the stocks. ‘Thank goodness Tohm was there’ she admitted. She knew the penalty for thievery would be much more severe in the city. Yes, country life was certainly more relaxed and appealing. Rubbing her eyes and yawning widely, Firah rose to take a moment in meditation outside. It was then she remembered last night's lift and decided to see exactly what fate had brought her.

  She dumped the contents of the pouch on the wooden table. Slowly, she filed through the effects, humming to herself as she sorted. There was more gold than silver in the pouch which surprised her greatly. A purse like this would typically belong to a nobleman who was usually escorted and relatively untouchable, at least for her anyway. It seemed like a great stroke of luck to the girl as she placed the coins into her own pouch. Still, Firah found herself questioning more and more as she dressed, and later as she ate some berries and dried meat from her storage. ‘Was that man a thief like me, or did I just happen upon his path’ she wondered. Because of the rain and his rain cloak she could not determine whether he was a local. ‘It could have been anyone.’ The thief idea left her quickly. If he had been one, he would have certainly noticed her and if the coin was a measure of his skill, he could have stopped her too. Yet here she was ass
uming it was a man as well. ‘I’ll never know’ she supposed. There were other assorted trinkets which remained upon the table. She hadn’t time to spend with them and so she placed them in a small wooden box near the bed for nighttime contemplation. Firah picked up her bundle of to-be-mended clothes. She said a silent prayer of gratitude for fortune past and present, checked her personal inventory and made for the town. Smiling to herself, she exited the small cabin. Thanks to the unexpected haul, she would not be working this day; today she would celebrate.

  The local pub was dingy and a bit musty but well known for excellent ale. Firah walked down the short dirt road toward the welcoming building. It was neighboured by the smith and farrier, whose ramshackle structures always made the sturdy bar stand out. Not only was the structure solid but the keeper also; he maintained a tight ship and required no bouncer for unruly patrons - he left that pleasure to himself. The young girl had not acquired a taste for alcohol, so the keeper, Tohm, had invented a “special” blend more to her liking. Even still, he would always tease Firah about her age as if she was too young to do anything. But Tohm had always been like that. Firah had trusted the large jovial man since she was a little girl. He always looked out for her, and even though he was embarrassingly nostalgic at times, she counted him a good friend (she always remembered it was he who had fed her when she was in the stocks). After all, it was Tohm who constructed her cabin; which she took ownership of when she was old enough. The pub door squeaked in defiance as she slowly pushed it open and tentatively peered into the common room. Her wariness was a habit she had learned from hard experience and, while this place usually had no trouble, someone new could always be in town. It paid to be cautious.

  The room felt more spacious than the outside shape of the structure implied. Within the cozy common area were various tables of sturdy make. Many of them were still in a state of use from the previous day. The light through the windows was enough to illuminate all but the deepest corners. The atmosphere in the pub retained the joviality of its patrons like gentle ghosts. It could be felt in every breath and touch upon worn wood. Most of all, it was a reflection upon its owner’s candor and courtesy.

  “O' there ye are, Firah! Be a nice girl and grab me some of those glasses on the tables!” Tohm was in his usual jovial manner. It was rare to find him in any other mood, and his mirth was often contagious. Firah had only seen him mad twice. Needless to say it was unsettling to see a mild mannered man become enraged and terrifying. Tohm was built stocky (a little over-girthed) but he was powerful. He stood over most people, and yet all that stature seemed to disappear inside his peculiar joviality.

  “Sure thing,” Firah replied. “I suppose it’s drinks on Tohm today then?” She smiled as she went swiftly around the room cleaning up.

  “Keep dreaming, lil' girl!” He laughed loudly in his own odd way while Firah grimaced at the youthful comment. “But then, ah well - last night was quite a haul and most of my stock is down. Everyone wanted to be indoors at least; most everyone, I think,” Tohm trailed off with a certain knowing in his tone. He winked at Firah as she approached with the glasses. Blushing slightly, she averted her gaze and said nothing. “Don’t worry, Firah, I’ve got hired help today to help out with dishes and with moving the 'eavy stuff. So just relax.” Tohm placed a large mug frothing with her special blend upon the counter. He had a warm smile upon his weathered face.

  “Thanks, Tohm,” Firah said warmly. Then she spied a familiar look forming in his face. She smiled at first, and then sighed. Her friend was a creature of habit, and memory dictated what was coming next.

  “Ye know, I remember when ye were wee tall and sneaking around here looking for scraps,” his words slowly faded as he descended into the cellar. Firah shook her head. 'He'll never change will he?' she thought with another sigh. She made her way through the room and slumped into a table by a window.

  The door to the kitchen opened and someone stepped through. Firah’s eyes shifted in a heartbeat from the window to the newcomer. Immediately, she took in his near-naked wiry frame. Aside from a gird about his nether regions all he was wearing was a service apron which was splashed and soiled from dish work. He had a somewhat agreeable look with a short cut of brown hair which was flecked with grey. She was drawn to his deep blue eyes which were intense and mysterious. Sweat glistened upon his muscled frame and trickled down his brow. Facial hair, trimmed shot and neat cut across his jaw line, accentuating his driving eyes. Upon noticing Firah, his head bowed in a respectful gesture.

  “Excuse my lack of dress, madam. I have finished my work in the kitchen. Perhaps have you seen the master of the pub about?” His formality threw her off. He was definitely not from Lenhir or anywhere else in the area. His accent certainly suggested his origins existed outside the community. The uncommon use of civility had truly shocked her. She felt at times she was condemned to live among uncouth barbarians whose greatest achievement in life was learning how to wipe properly in the midden house. The man waited upon her expectantly.

  “He … he went to the cellar. I’m sure he’ll be back.” Firah averted her eyes, surprising herself. She found herself blushing but it was not out of attraction for the man. Rather, it was the clear piercing gaze that seemed to be appraising her, even her thoughts, if it were possible. He simply stood and gazed at her calmly; meanwhile, Firah fidgeted under the weight of his stare. She stood and peered out the window in an attempt to disrupt the awkward moment. Despite her efforts, she found it nearly impossible to avoid his presence. The hair on the back of her neck rose slightly, tickling her skin. A tremor of fear shivered through her which she could not entirely hide. She considered the door and flight from the room.

  “Firah! How about a lil' trip into the city tomorrow?”

  Firah jumped slightly from the floor. Tohm’s voice boomed from the depths of the cellar. Slowly his shaved head appeared, then the rest of his body carrying a large keg of his noted ale. Tohm had entirely missed the moment between his two patrons but upon seeing the man, regarded him heartily.

  “Well, Zyr! Done already? Y're the best help this place has seen in a long time; silent and 'ardworking!” Tohm cast a side-glance at Firah who threw a disgusted face back at him. “'ave you met Firah? She’s the local tom-boy and troublemaker. You may want to check your pockets before ye leave.” Firah’s eyes flared up with anger at the comment and she stood up violently, dislodging the table. First, the nightmare, then this unnerving stranger and finally Tohm’s unbearable candor; it had all culminated into a burst of frustration that stole her sense.

  “Why don’t you shut it, Tohm?” she lashed out venomously. Her face flushed even deeper crimson after she observed the newcomer’s brow raised in response to her outburst. She swung her arm in Tohm’s direction midst the rant. “Why do you say that to everyone? You have no consideration for me or how hard it’s been! I’ve had enough, you hear me? Sometimes you really ...” Her eyes watered slightly as her voice trailed off. How could she take this teasing so seriously now and why did it bother her so much? There was no answer she could discern yet she stood her full height and glared back at Tohm.

  Her words clearly cut him, and in shock Tohm began to falter. “I’m sorry, Firah, I meant no 'arm. You know I always mean well for you. It’s just that…that being the case … I ...” Tohm seemed to squirm under her gaze. Secretly she relished the moment, though it was a fleeting feeling. He quickly recovered and attempted to restore order to the uncomfortable scene that had infiltrated his bar.

  “Well anyway … introductions! Ah, bless me! Firah, this is Zyr, the 'elp I mentioned to ye … Zyr, this is Firah, a fine lass of the 'ighest caliber, if I do say so m'self!” he laughed weakly and only then did Firah release him from her gaze. She sat back down to her now overturned mug and sighing slumped her feet onto a nearby chair. She was confused for sure and that annoying tingling on her neck was still lingering.

  “Oh … yes, as I was saying, would ye like to join me for a short trip to the city?” />
  Firah glared again, frustration threatening to spring her from her seat.

  “I know! I know!” Tohm backpedalled quickly, "ye 'ate the city! It’s just that the ride gets so lonesome and some company would be nice. Listen, I know there are a 'undred other things ye would rather do…but, for me?” He put on a heavily exaggerated face so pitiful that Firah just shook her head in embarrassment.

  “I hate your face more than the city.” The girl shrugged her shoulders, defeated. The anger was abating but her hackles were still rankling. “Okay, I suppose a quick trip. I do have some mending to be done and the shop can do it faster and cheaper there. Still, I’m not too keen for long talk, Tohm.” Her voice trailed off. Her gaze was upon the unlit fireplace in the wall and suddenly she felt drawn into the sheer blackness of the soot within. Slowly, she was drifting off to other places, darker than the soot amidst the coals. Memory of the previous night's dream came creeping back into her mind.

  The stranger piped up. “That’s all the dishes and kitchen work; I assume standard pay is a just payment?”

  “Not for ye' sir!” Tohm retorted, “You’ve been of such great service, I’m doublin' the standard.” He made his way over to the strongbox, designed to store the various coins and precious items that were traded for drinks and food. Tohm invited the younger man to the various spirits that lay racked overhead to which the dishwasher declined with a raised hand. As Tohm made to grasp the coins for payment, Zyr put a hand out gently upon the larger man’s arm. “Instead of money, perhaps if you would permit me transport? I need passage to the city and logic dictates that group travel is safer, particularly with the unusual array of creatures prowling about in the area. I would consider payment in full in exchange for passage.” Tohm stroked his chin and harrumphed a couple times.