The Hekamon Page 4

  "Not far now," he said, as the ground started to level off.

  "I know, I've been this far before."

  "Well, since you know the way from here, you can lead."

  "I've been leading us for the last mile."

  She had been, too. Falling into step behind his sister, the pair continued through the forest, journeying on in silence, though things were not so quiet around them. The lightening sky bringing with it the chorus of birdsong.

  With the silver birches giving way to elm, oak and the occasional holly bushes, Kormak's thoughts drifted to how he would explain his expensive purchase to his fellow ferguths. They were expecting things from his trading mission, too. Yet he would need to return empty handed at least three more times just to cover the price of his iron grippers.

  His desire to own them had been almost feverish, like they had been calling to him. From the moment he saw them, he knew he had to have them, no matter what the cost. If people were unhappy with the price he'd paid, he would just have to make it up to them later. He looked at his sister. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

  "Look, the bridge, and before sunrise, too," Alyssa said, looking up at the early rays of sunlight as they illuminated the wispy clouds against the blue sky above them, "Well, nearly before sunrise."

  "Close enough." He replied, slowing down now the bridge was in view.

  Their path joined with Tivitay Street a short distance ahead and any travelers in these parts, and for many miles around, would need to use this bridge if they wanted to cross the river. If they were going to bump into any thieves, or worse still, Demedelite guards, it would be now.

  Kormak had been so busy looking at the way ahead for sign of movement, he was oblivious to his sister's sudden distress. Gradually, he became aware that she'd stopped walking and was pulling at her jacket and shawl.

  "It's gone! I've lost it!" She gasped.

  "Lost what?" He said, as nonchalantly as he could. Could she not have waited until we were home.

  "My necklace." She took off the shawl and shook it, watching to see if anything fell from the folds, before searching inside her jacket, where her leather belt pulled it tight around her waist. Not finding anything, she started to look on the ground and path just behind them.

  "Are you sure you were wearing it?" Kormak asked.

  Alyssa looked at him angrily, "Of course, I wear it always."

  "I just thought, you might have left it at home for safe keeping."

  "Well I didn't, it keeps me safe—" she trailed off, "I don't expect you to understand," She wiped her eyes, the tears starting to well up, before starting back the way they had come, looking at the ground.

  "Alyssa, where are you going? We need to head home, we'll look for it another time," he said, with exasperation in his voice, but his sister ignored him and continued searching.

  "Alyssa this is pointless," raising his voice, as his sister drew further away from him. "Leave it for me to find. I'll come back and look for it, I promise."

  Should he keep up the pretense? Help his sister to search even if it was in vain. Then, when the shock of losing her necklace had worn off, persuade her to return home with him.

  Or admit he had pawned it to Tansley, and that he would get it back in a few weeks, well months. He would tell her weeks if he told her at all.

  He tried to visualize how angry she would be with him if he told her the truth. She was mostly sweet-natured but life in the marshes was tough. It gave them all ruthless streak and Alyssa was no exception. She would demand they return to Tansley's and swap them back again right away. Well, he wasn't going to do that, the iron grippers were important and they belonged to him now.

  Even so, his sister was taking the loss of her necklace much worse than he'd anticipated. He couldn't recall seeing her so upset and started walking after her. Alyssa rarely cried but now she could hardly catch her breath.

  "I have to find it," she gasped through her tears, "I'm not leaving here without it."

  "Alyssa we have to, we can't wait around. It will be light soon and—"

  "And what?" she demanded, suddenly composing herself.

  "You know." Kormak touched his face tattoo. "If I'm seen here—"

  "So what if you're seen here?" Her eyes bored into him.

  He found himself becoming more aggressive at her insolence, "We have to leave."

  In truth, it was hard for Kormak to be sure what would happen if he was seen.

  If any Demedelite guards in full uniform were caught in the marshes they would be relieved of all their possessions, and possibly an ear, or a finger, and sent away again. That's if they were lucky. He knew a few Fennreans who would not be that charitable, himself for one. By that measure, he'd always assumed the same fate would befall any ferguth, either alone or few in number, caught on the wrong side of the river. None had ever been so careless to find out and Kormak wasn't about to start now.

  "I'm not going back until I've found it," Alyssa insisted. "I had it at the trading post and can remember the way, it must be somewhere along the route and I'll find it." With that she turned and began searching again, walking back into the woods.

  Kormak watched her for a time.

  If he thought the necklace was out there to be found, then he would help her, for a time anyway, but he knew there was no chance. Not only that, he'd invested too much in acquiring the grippers to risk being caught and dispossessed of them. Kormak held the eagle embroidered bag tightly.

  "Alyssa, I'm going to Ochre," he shouted after her, as loudly as he dared. His sister waved a hand dismissively in reply, and he watched her disappear amongst the trees.

  She can take care of herself, he thought, before turning and heading over the Rhavenbrook Bridge, toward Ochre Hill, and home.

  Chapter 2

  9

  To Galvyn it sounded like thunder, three loud bangs reverberating around his small room and waking him suddenly.

  In his sleepy state, his imagination wove the sounds into the remnants of a dream. Was it thunder? Or was it huge rocks, hurled by one giant at another. Crashing about him and forcing him to flee this way and that, as the storm rained down around him.

  Gradually the dream faded and he was awake.

  The sound of knocking on his door, all he could recall with certainty, his landlady letting him know it was time to get up. Climbing out of bed, Galvyn pulled on some clothes, went to the washbasin and filled it with some cold water from a jug.

  He washed his face, more to wake himself up than get clean. Before long he would be at Croneygee's workshop at Serfacre. There, among the forges and small foundries, being clean was only a brief state of appearance anyway.

  Washed and dressed Galvyn left his room and went down the two flights of stairs to what passed for a kitchen. A large oak table in the center of the room and a wood burning stove to one side. His landlady, Mrs. Willard, nodded at his appearance, "Good morning Galvyn, do you want toast?"

  "Yes, please," he replied, and was immediately handed a wooden platter, with a few blackened wedges of burnt bread.

  Toast was the only breakfast Mrs. Willard made, and since breakfast was included in the price of his rent, it was what Galvyn ate everyday. The sound of movement upstairs indicated another of the guests was up and about. His landlady heard it, too, and a few more uneven slices of freshly cut bread were thrown into the stove in response.

  "Needs a little more wood I think," she said, examining the stove's fire tray, before opening the kitchen door and going out into the back yard. Galvyn looked at his charred toast. Mrs. Willard was not someone who knowingly under-cooked anything, not such a bad thing, though, with some of the gamey meat that was the norm in these parts.

  With the door open, the heat from the stove was negated by the breezy, cool morning air. The sun, just beginning to rise, filled the kitchen with an orange glow, but so far offered little warmth.

  "Looks like it's going to be a nice day," Mrs. Willard said, returning with few pieces
of wood and placing them carefully in the stove, "Are you in the mine today, Galvyn?" She asked, almost as an after thought.

  "I don't think so, old Croneygee told me he is expecting some things in for repair. I'll be in the workshop, I suppose."

  "That's Mr. Croneygee to you." She said, giving him mock clip around the ear that mostly just ruffled his hair.

  "That's what I said," he replied innocently, finishing off the last of his toast. "I'd better get going, I'll see you this evening, Mrs Willard."

  "Take care Galvyn, and tell Enyon I said hello."

  "Will do," he said, going into the hallway and putting on his boots and jacket and letting himself out.

  Tivitay was quiet at this time of the morning and wouldn't get much busier. It was home to a few shops, half a dozen houses, a couple of guest houses and an inn. Half-timbered buildings with brick chimneys mostly. It was little more than a village, extending over a fifty yard stretch of the road that ran between Demedelei Town and the Rhavenbrook Bridge to the north.

  Galvyn knew that despite being a small village, it had advantages over the larger town. It was cheaper to rent here and so was popular with apprentices like himself, who practiced their trade in the workshops nearby. Not only that, It was a stopping point for any travelers passing through who wanted to avoid Demedelites as far as possible. This was considered quite advantageous for many of those journeying between the lands north of the river and those south of the mountains. It ensured the village a certain amount of passing trade, as well as a reputation for lawlessness.

  He headed up Tivitay Street to the Demedelei Road, and followed the road west, until he was heading toward the fort. A few minutes later, the sound of the workshops became increasingly noticeable, until a blackened hedgerow to his right gave way to the sight of dozens of small workshops. The orange light on the rooftops of the buildings was caused by the dawn light. But the deeper red glow beneath came from the numerous hearths, forges and furnaces they housed.

  Some of the coal the furnaces were fired by, had been mined from directly below the land on which the buildings stood. The thick coal seem reached the surface here and the very land itself was black.

  Galvyn weaved his way around some of the coal boys and carters, ferrying raw materials into workshops and the finished goods out. He took the chance to look at some of the wares on display as he walked by. His own place of work was on the quieter, western edge of Serfacre, and with good reason. It was there that they did some of the finer metal, leather and detail work. His boss was in a particular line of business. Enyon Croneygee was an armorer, and Galvyn was his apprentice. An apprentice with a specialty in fine chain mail.

  10

  As she and her brother had approached the Rhavenbrook Bridge, she'd felt her pulse quicken and a feeling of apprehension grow. On hearing the hoot of a tawny owl nearby, Alyssa had instinctively reached for her necklace. Her thoughts seemed to order themselves better when owls where near, not like crows and ravens, whose presence caused her mind react strangely.

  Even as she reached for it there was a sense foreboding. Just the touch of the pendant against her skin was normally enough to give her some connection, but when was the last time she'd felt that? Hours ago at least. Her hand felt around her neck, only to confirm what she already knew, it was gone.

  She searched the ground around her and then checked her jacket. Even if it had fallen from her neck it should've been inside her clothing, but there was no sign of it there.

  It was partly the tiredness that brought her emotions to the surface, but feeling of loss was far stronger than she'd anticipated. She had never so much as misplaced it before and now it could be anywhere, lost in an area she could not easily or safely search and needed to do so alone, or so it seemed.

  She walked a few hundred yards, before stopping and looking around to see if her brother really had left, or was just calling her bluff. Threatening to go without her, just to scare her into going back with him. She waited and listened but heard nothing. He really had gone without her.

  Alyssa thought of all the times that Kormak and his friends refused to let her join them on their adventures around the marshes. It's too dangerous, they would say, better for you to stay behind, you'll only get lost or something.

  Only if she was careless.

  Yet the potentially useful but genuinely risky endeavor, of trading herbs up near the pass for things they needed, was now too much for them but fine for her. It was their face paint they claimed, it would give them away. Well since it wasn't permanent, they could let it fade, but no, it seemed they couldn't. It wouldn't be right somehow. Being a ferguth was a calling, apparently. If they let mark fade what else would they let go? What other rituals would fall by the wayside? She could think of a few things.

  Well, if she had to find the necklace by herself, so be it. She was good at finding things.

  Walking slowly and looking at the ground the whole time, Alyssa let her eyes dart from side to side, looking for a tell tale glint of silver. The light was improving all the time, which would help make the necklace easier to see. Unfortunately, it would make her more visible as well.

  Did the guards patrol here? Trappers, thieves? With her attention focused on the ground she would be vulnerable, but there was no other option, she had to find it. The sooner she did so, the sooner she could get home.

  For a while she was confident she was going the right way, there was a path, it was subtle but it was there. This side of river the ground was not so boggy, since the land started to slope, but it was still wet under foot. As the hillside started to rise more steeply the forest returned to a more random scattering of trees. The path was gone and she could no longer be sure she was retracing her steps exactly. The leaves, dry again, were now rustling underfoot.

  Alyssa allowed her eyes to sweep a wider arc trying to find not just the pendant but some sign that this was where they had been, a foot print or some disturbed soil but she couldn't see anything. Fennreans were good at hiding their tracks, which was normally a good thing, but not now.

  With her head down and finding it hard to keep her bearings, she stopped several times and looked around so as not to become lost. Even then she couldn't be sure she wasn't losing her way. After an hour or two of searching, the creeping sense of loneliness and futility of her task caught up with her and she sat down on a fallen tree. Her new shawl proving a useful cloth to wipe her tears.

  Since daybreak, the sun had steadily risen in the eastern sky, bringing with it more light and warmth to the forest floor. This had provided her with a degree of comfort but the respite was proving to be short lived. The arc of the sun as it crossed the sky now took it behind the ridge of the mountains and the dark and cold returned.

  Standing again, Alyssa looked up the hill, through the branches of the trees and at the highest peak of the mountains, now silhouetted against the blue sky. It was a familiar sight, but to see it so close was disturbing, a reminder she was a long way out of Fennelbek. Yet despite its imposing appearance, the peak gave her an idea.

  Using a combination of the close proximity and angle of the mountain, along with the steepness of the hill she was on, Alyssa thought she might be able to orientate herself. The type of tress would help too, the birch trees becoming more numerous. As she looked she started to become more sure of her location. If she was right, then there were some caves about a quarter of a mile to her left, due east, while the glade with the fresh water spring was directly ahead of her and further up the hillside. If so, then she was very close to being on the same route they had taken back from the trading post. The fallen tree on which she had rested seemed familiar, too.

  Spring glade might not be far away. Could that be where she'd lost her necklace? Thinking about the mountain spring, she reached for her flask and took a drink from it. The water from the mountain stream was still cool and refreshing. Alyssa recalled how she had knelt and filled her flask from the pool. Perhaps the necklace had fallen there. She thought she wou
ld have noticed if it had, but it seemed as likely a place as any.

  Fastening her flask onto her belt Alyssa moved off again, allowing herself a to feel a little optimism and walking a little more briskly.

  11

  Resting on the dew covered grass, Decarius took a drink of water to wash down his meal of bread and honey. He'd filled his flask from the nearby spring, its cool refreshing water a welcome tonic after the night's exertion.

  The intention was to have descended the mountainside by daybreak but the going had been slower than he'd anticipated. Decarius was tempted to blame Aegis entirely, but all three of them had found the descent difficult. The damp air had made the rock face slippery, and despite their warm clothing they'd been chilled to the bone. The brisk northerly wind had swirled around them, their cloaks a protection against its icy grip, but a liability to the wrenching pull it had exerted.

  He'd wanted to be on the Regis Highway by now, but had acquiesced to his young cohort's demand for a rest. The place he had chosen was a clearing on a north facing hillside and offered a view almost as good as that from the Eyrie, this time with the advantage of daylight.

  The son of the saceress had been cosseted at the Halvyon temple and a night on the mountain had taken its toll on him. Fortunately, a couple of hours rest, some breakfast and a invigorating drink from the mountain stream had brought some color back into his cheeks. And with Aegis having regained his alertness, he had been asking about the northern lands that were spread out before them.

  Decarius decided to oblige, having been somewhat aggressive with the boy earlier, he would now need to be gentle. The saceress would ask her son about the journey to regain the gauntlets and it would help if the boy had some anecdotes other than nearly being thrown off the mountain. That would hardly assuage Volusia's suspicions as the subsequent events unfolded. So out of courtesy, and self interest, he pointed out some of the landmarks.

  "You see the course of the river?" he said, pointing east and tracing its flow, "That's were it drains into the swamp. It then continues around," he indicated as it disappeared from view and behind the tree line of the clearing, "before heading north."