Chapter 13|In Motion
Lerryn quaffed his ale in a few short gulps, and called for more. He wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and took stock of his companions. Mattyas, or “Hair” as they called him, had proven to be a pleasant traveling companion, quick with an insult but quick to laugh at himself as well. Barlis, nicknamed “Bull”, was equally amenable, though a bit on the quiet side, as was Edrin, the archer. Pedric Karst was another matter entirely.
“This place is filthy,” the dark-haired boy muttered. “I am accustomed to better.” He sat with his hands folded across his chest, staring down at the floor.
“And I am accustomed to young men who know their place,” Xaver said, his face a cold mask.
“And I would like to enjoy my ale with none of your bickering, if you please,” Lerryn said. He accepted a fresh mug from the innkeeper with a nod. He turned to chastise Karst, but stopped when he saw the strange look on the lad’s face. “What is it?”
“I thought I knew that girl.” Karst nodded toward the door. “Over there.”
Lerryn turned to look, but saw only and empty table. The girl, whoever she was, had apparently left.
“You’ve never known a girl in your life,” Hair chided, “except your mother perhaps.”
“Take that back!” Karst leapt to his feet, his sword half drawn. “Right now.”
“Sit down boy,” Lerryn ordered, not bothering to rise.
Karst opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again as the innkeeper returned with ales for the rest of their party. Lerryn motioned for him to sit, which he did grudgingly.
Lerryn regarded Karst for a moment. The boy’s pinched face and beady eyes were a perfect match for his personality, he mused.
“I am not accustomed,” Karst grumbled, “to being spoken to in such a way by a commoner. My father…”
Lerryn had heard enough of Karst’s foolishness. He raised his hand, cutting the youth off.
“Master Karst, I have not shared with you the fact that I know precisely who your father is.” He did not miss Karst’s eyes flit down at the table for a moment before looking back at him in defiance. “You are the son of the chief pig farmer in a province of pig farmers. If you think that gains you any special favor from me, you are sadly mistaken.”
Karst’s face reddened, but he remained silent.
“Pedric Pig. I like it!” Bull said, clapping his huge hands. “We could call you Piggy for short.”
“Lord Ham!” Hair laughed and smacked the table. Edrin joined in, and even Xaver cracked a smile. “Ham, Hair and Bull.”
“My father is not a pig farmer,” Karst whispered, still staring down at his drink.
“I suppose you are correct,” Lerryn agreed. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he should be above goading the boy, but he couldn’t help himself. He rocked back in his chair as he spoke. “Your father is a landowner. Tell me, what do his serfs raise on his land?”
“Corn, tomatoes… food.” Karst frown deepened and he kept his gaze directed away from Lerryn.
“If you include the kitchen gardens, that is true. But what do they raise?” Lerryn asked.
“Pigs.”
“And the tithes that your father claims from them, he is paid in what?”
“Pigs.” Karst’s voice grew more sullen.
“Need I say more?”
They sat in silence for a long time. Lerryn sipped his ale. It was dark and strong with a hint of honey. Not bad for a dingy inn in a dirty town. He was almost embarrassed that such a town could exist in his kingdom. Then again, such domestic issues were the king’s domain. The First Prince was responsible for the military, and for justice. He hoped things were running smoothly in his absence.
“You still haven’t told us where we’re going.” As usual, Karst’s silence had not lasted long.
“We tell you what you need to know, Master Karst,” Lerryn responded.
“One of us ought to know,” Karst protested. Lerryn would not have thought it possible, but his expression turned even more sour.
“You think so, do you?” Lerryn snapped back. The boy always managed to raise his ire. He had done it again, cutting right to the heart of Lerryn’s worries.
“This….thing…we’re after,” Karst probed, “it’s one single thing, right?”
Lerryn nodded. What harm was there in revealing that small detail?
“So then, whatever it is, only one of us can use it.” Karst’s dark eyes narrowed, like a bird of prey spotting a potential kill.
“What makes you think someone is going to use it?” Lerryn retorted, knowing it was a weak response.
“You said we had to have it to save our country.”
“That is true,” Lerryn agreed. If only the boy knew how much truly depended upon the success of this quest.
“If either of you could use whatever it is, you wouldn’t need the four of us. Obviously, one of us is going to have to use it.” Karst propped an elbow on the table, resting his chin in a cupped hand and looking at Lerryn with an expectant smile.
“I was wrong about you, Master Karst,” Xaver’s dry voice interrupted. “I once thought you a great fool, but I was mistaken.”
Karst’s smile broadened in self-satisfaction.
“You are not a great fool, only an average fool.”
Hair guffawed, choking on his ale. Bull slapped the coughing boy on the back. Hair regained his composure quickly under Xaver’s purple-eyed stare.
“If one of us is to use this thing,” Karst began again, “don’t you think that person should at least know what it is? Unless, of course, you don’t know which one of us it is.”
Xaver’s mouth twisted into a contemptuous snarl. He leaned toward Karst, eyes boring into the arrogant lad. “You go too far, boy. All of you get out. Wait by the horses.” The four youths scrambled quickly to their feet, overturning chairs, and nearly upending the innkeeper on their way out.
Lerryn fumed inside. He was First Prince of Galdora, yet he did not intimidate the boys the way his vizier did. They had a healthy respect for him, he was certain. Even Karst had learned to mind the sharper edge of his tongue. Yet they seemed to treat Lerryn more as first among equals, rather than someone whom they should fear.
“The prophecy has brought us together.” Xaver turned to Lerryn. “Together! We must be united. We cannot be so without a leader. Stop drinking with these boys and start leading them.”
“Do not tell me about the prophecy. I have seen no signs of your prophecy since this journey began.” It was such a simple plan. Assemble the six, set off in the direction their research told them to go, and wait for the prophecy to take hold.
“The prophecy is in action,” his Vizier protested. “Take the four boys. They fit perfectly.” He paused for a moment. “Well, almost perfectly.”
Xaver glared past Lerryn, as if he could see Karst through the wall. Lerryn shook his head. Perhaps Xaver could see through walls.
“Every day I look for signs,” he argued, mindful of the need to keep his voice down. “I watch these boys, waiting for one of them to do something, I don’t know, prophetic.” He drank down the last of his ale, then relieved Xaver of his untouched tankard. “You aren’t completely certain yourself. I’ve seen you at night, poring over the scrolls, looking for something you might have missed.”
“The prophecy works in inexplicable ways. You mustn’t lose faith. Something will happen when you least expect it, usually in the way you least expect.”
“Something had better happen soon,” Lerryn muttered sourly.
“Forgive me, M’lords. There’s someone would like to have a word with you.” The innkeeper approached their table warily, wringing his hands, and staring at Xaver as if he were a poisonous serpent. “It’s the constable. Something terrible’s happened. He’s a hoping that you Lords might could help him.” He backed away quickly, gesturing toward the door.
Lerryn rose from his chair slowly. He drained Xaver’s
tankard in a few greedy gulps, fished into his money pouch, and produced a heavy silver coin with his father’s image imprinted on one side. He tossed it to the innkeeper.
“Our thanks for your hospitality. Lead us to this constable, and we shall see if we may be of some assistance.”
“I thank you M’lord.” The surprised innkeeper examined the coin with rheumy eyes. “Two of these in one day! Who’d have thought it?”
Lerryn frowned. Two in one day? Not likely. Perhaps he meant two silver coins in one day. Surely this pitiful place did not see much silver.
The innkeeper led them out into the street, where a heavyset man with bulging brown eyes waited. He pressed a giant hand against his ample girth and bowed deeply, displaying a bald spot peeking through his thin brown hair.
“M’lords, we have need of your assistance. Two men have been killed.” The constable’s eyes darted nervously from Lerryn to Xaver, then back to Lerryn.
“Constable, I can assure you that no one from our party was involved,” Lerryn replied.
“I am sorry, M’lord, I did not make myself clear. Wild animals killed the men. Tore them up something terrible. Their family could scarcely recognize ‘em.”
“I fail to see how we may be of assistance,” Xaver said. “We can hardly bring these men back to life.”
The constable nervously rubbed his hands over his ample girth. He scraped the heel of his boot back and forth in the filth of the muddy street.
“They managed to bring down one of the animals before they were killed. Truth is, we’ve never seen the like. We had hoped that you, being travelers, might’ve seen one of these things before.” He looked at Lerryn pleadingly, studiously avoiding Xaver’s gaze.
“Very well,” Lerryn agreed. He turned to find Hair waiting with his horse in hand. He mounted up and set off at a slow trot, following the relieved looking constable.
They came to a halt a few leagues west of town in a small patch of farmland. Rows of snap beans grew up the stalks of young corn, bright green in the summer stun. A woman stood at the edge of the field, sobbing over two figures wrapped in blood soaked fabric. Two men, most likely neighbors, stood behind her, arms folded across their chests. Four small girls were being led away by two heavyset women, probably the men’s wives.
Lerryn’s heart groaned at the sight. He wished he had a bottle of wine, or something stronger.
“Her husband and her son,” the constable explained.
Lerryn leapt down from his horse and walked over to the woman. He withdrew his money pouch and knelt down by the grief-stricken widow. “Mistress, I cannot hope to ease your pain, but perhaps this will ease your family’s suffering a bit.” He held the pouch out toward her. She looked up at him. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, were a deep emerald green, and her hair was a lustrous brown. Had she been of noble birth, she would have married well. She shook her head, and drew slightly away from him. “Please take it,” he said, this time pressing the bag of money into her hands.
Without a word, she accepted the gift, then threw her arms around him, and squeezed tightly. Silent tears dripped onto his shoulder. He awkwardly patted her back, but he had no words of comfort to offer.
The woman held on to him for a long time. She smelled vaguely of cinnamon, not altogether unpleasant. Certainly better than the scullery maids and serving girls he preferred. He stroked her hair, and noticed its softness. What sort of beast was he? The woman’s husband lay dead not two paces from where they knelt! Slowly, reluctantly, he broke the embrace.
“My thanks,” the widow whispered, and turned again to look upon the bodies of the deceased.
“Show me the animal,” Lerryn said gruffly, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.
The Constable led him across the clearing. Xaver, Karst, and Edrin followed, along with the two farmers. A strange looking beast lay on the ground, its corpse feathered with arrows. Its fur was a glossy gray, tinged with silver. Its head was catlike, as were the wicked claws that extended from its all too human fingers and toes. Its body was vaguely human, though the short, muscular arms and legs added to the animal’s beast-like quality.
“The oldest girl came out to bring them lunch. She saw it all,” the Constable explained. “A pack of them came through the woods. They got enough arrows in this one to bring it down, but not the others. The critters tore through them like they was nothing.” He shook his head. “The girl hid in the woods. She said the rest of ‘em just kept on going. She said, if they was people, you’d think they had somewhere they had to be.” He spat on the ground, and fixed Lerryn with a patient stare.
“I know what this is.” Xaver pushed past Lerryn and knelt down to examine the beast. “This is a Halvalan snow cougar.”
“Halvalan?” the Constable barked, “How’d a Halvalan anything get all the way down here?”
“It’s rare, but they have been known to range widely. Unfortunate that the pack happened upon these men.”
“That’s not a cougar…” Karst halted in mid-sentence when Edrin slapped him on the back of the head.
“Don’t contradict the priest.” Edrin invoked the title Lerryn had instructed him to use for Xaver. “He’s seen more than the rest of us put together.”
Karst frowned and rubbed the back of his head, but said no more.
“What should we do with it, M’lord?”
Xaver looked at Lerryn for a moment, then turned to the constable.
“Burn it,” Xaver said. “Burn it and bury the ashes deep.” He turned and headed back to the horses, motioning for the others to join him.
Lerryn resisted the urge to say goodbye to the grieving woman. Hair and Bull hugged the girls, and mounted up. As they cantered forth from the clearing, Xaver drew his horse alongside that of Lerryn.
“Your Highness,” he said, “I fear the frost creeps again.”