4. Tomma
A giant of a knight escorted us from the throne room and to the desk of a scribe. The knight was a silver monolith, his crimson eyes were the only feature that I could make out, peering coldly from the depth of his gleaming helm. The scribe did not look up as we were herded in front of her desk. She just raised a delicate alabaster hand and held aloft a parchment scroll sealed with the crimson skull of Lord Kahlian. “Take this to the quarry master, he will give you access to the quarries. Do remember to bring your own workers. You have access to our quarries, not to our workers.” Her voice was dripping in contempt, and she dropped the scroll into Lady Lissel’s outstretched hand and quickly retracted it as if she might from some diseased animal, for fear of being bitten.
With that we were ushered back out to the main entry and pointed to the gates. “Your business here is concluded. See yourselves back outside the city gates immediately. Do not wander.” The knight could not seem to be rid of us fast enough, and from the looks on the faces of the elders and on Lady Lissel, this was to be expected.
The knight stalked off down the ebony streets and in a moment disappeared around a bend. Even alone, as we now were, I could feel eyes upon me from every direction. It was clear that we were not welcome here. We were strangers and did not belong. These people had no love for us, we were not their equals and in their eyes we never could be. They glided along the streets of polished stone, graceful and coldly beautiful, their eyes always above us, always in deep thought or conversation. They made a show of being too busy to even notice our presence or existence in the world for that matter. We walked in silence towards the high arched gates.
Samual scowled and spit down at the pristine roads. “We’d have been better off asking the Naralis for aid, least they might have just stopped attacking our homes. These people can’t stop them, that’s why they won’t help us. They’re scared of the Naralis.” The words had barely left Samual’s lips, and we all gasped and shrank back, as six guards seemed to coalesce from the ever present mist encircling our little band. Their swords were drawn and in a heartbeat they had formed a circle of steel around us. The elders and Lady Lissel did their best to look calm, but as tightly as we were huddled together I could feel her shaking, and from the bloodthirsty looks in the guards’ eyes they could see it.
“You will come with us, or you will die.” The statement was simple and aimed directly at Samual. “Choose wisely, if you choose death, you choose it for all of your companions as well. If you wish to come along peacefully, the rest of you will be allowed to continue on your way.” Again it was a statement. They were not going to let us stay, we would be returning home with one less than we had set out with. The fight went out of Samual’s eyes. He nodded numbly and dropped his hands to his sides as stepped forward.
Four of the guards sheathed their blades and sank back, disappearing into the ever present mist, as the two remaining took up positions on either side of Samual. With a last despondent look over his shoulder at us, he allowed himself to be escorted away down the street. In a matter of minutes he was gone, lost in the rapidly filling main streets of Drakenhelm. The gates were closed brusquely behind us as we stepped out into the expanse beyond the towering walls. We had little choice but to return home and hope that Samual would be alright. It was a feeble lie that did little to comfort us in the night.
The first day of travel the wind raged more than any I had ever witnessed. It ripped at our thread bare clothing, and tossing our hair into our eyes as we struggled against the oncoming winds. That night we hardly slept. The screaming of the wind made it impossible to find a single moment of peace in which to close our eyes. I could see Lissel, her back to me, shuddering in the dim illumination of the twin moons. Whether she was shaking from the cold or crying herself to sleep, I couldn’t tell.
With the suns rise our hopes of the weather calming were dashed. The previous day had been little more than a warm up to today’s magnum opus. The intensity of the winds as we broke camp was near enough to almost knock us off our feet. Rain fell sporadically at first, the wind driving it almost horizontally into our faces, plastering our clothes to our skin. Around midday an exceptionally strong gust tore the soaked cloak from Lissel’s shoulder and sent it spinning off into the sky.
What should have been a two day walk became a four day nightmare, our already limited provisions growing steadily depleted and if not for the now, near constant rain, our water would have surely run out entirely. Speaking became impossible, even yelling could hardly be heard over the roaring of the winds, and none of us seemed to have the heart to speak much anyway.
We dared not even stop for the night after the second day for fear of our supplies becoming completely exhausted. Finally at the end of the fourth day, just as the clouds broke, we could just see the timber walls of home off in the distance. The Weeping One was high overhead by the time we finally reached the gates. “Hello! We need to come in!” I had to yell at the top of my lungs to try to be heard over the wind. Thankfully it seemed to be enough, and in a moment I saw a familiar face peering through the small viewing window. Jonah, tonight’s watchman rubbed the sleep from his eyes and motioned for the bar to be lifted and in a matter of moments we were safely inside the walls of the village.
A warm meal, dry clothes and a hot fire soon had us set much to right. We all agreed we should try to get some rest and that we could meet and speak with the entire council come morning. I watched the others gather themselves up and wander wearily off in the direction of their respective homes. Most were little more then burned out frames at this point, but they were still home none the less and we had gotten used to such accommodations once the attacks had begun a few moons ago.
I walked by the burned out shell of Samual’s home on the way to my own. I couldn’t help but be mournfully thankful that his family had died in the first attack so I did not have to deliver the news of his…situation. I bent down and uncovered a soot scarred ragdoll, half buried under the rubble of what had once been the main door. I held it close to my heart as I remembered that horrible night. To no avail, I shut my eyes tight, hopping to blot out the images that played across my mind.
Samual and I had been watchmen on guard at the main gate that night. The evening had been so peaceful, the sky was clear, the moons shown bright overhead, only slivers but still little shinning thumbnails. It had been blissfully warm, just a soft summer breeze blowing gently through the streets. I had thought I had seen a shape fly past the moon. I peered into the darkness, and as the stars started to come into focus I realized more shapes were darting across the sky. It was in that moment that the screams had begun to rise from all corners of the village. Flames were jumping from one rooftop to the next, the thatch catching in the blink of an eye. The horses screamed in the barns to the edge of town, their terrified shrieks mingling with the panicked cries of the villagers.
Samual had raced from his post tearing through the streets, bowling people over as he passed. I followed behind him best I could, yet still not quite able to keep up. I slowed as I tried to help those who were pouring out their homes into the streets. They were all trying to escape the choking black smoke and the scorching flames that were leaping from building to building. The chaos could have gotten everyone killed, but was able to direct some individuals to the storage tunnels under the village, and get them passing the world and leading the rest. I made my way through the clearing streets trying to find Samual.
I found him, crumpled in the door of his home. The frame had given way and the smoldering timbers had begun to burn through his leather jerkin and into the woolen tunic beneath, charring straight through to the flesh beneath. The horrible wails from within the home were beginning to be choked off into an even more dreadful silence. Try as I might there was no way in. The doorway had completely collapsed and the timbers beyond had given way in the intense heat. I grabbed at the red hot timbers and pulled them from Samual’s back, the flesh on my hands charred and crisped, I paid the pain no mind as I carried him back into the tunnels with the rest of the townsfolk.
The next morning Samual awoke in the tunnels and without a word walked out into the smoldering remains of the village. He had stood at the ruined entrance of his home, not moving or speaking for almost two days. It might have been more merciful for me to have left him there to die with his wife and daughters. He had never been the same after that night. He went through periods of the darkest depression, to periods of uncontrolled rage, where he hated everyone and everything around him. His left arm had been permanently damaged from the falling timber. He had lost everything in that first fire, his home, his wife and two daughters, even part of his own body had been taken from him. Only work seemed to keep him grounded, he had thrown himself into his guard duty, sleeping only for a few hours at a time, patrolling the rest.
A slap on the back brought me back to the present, one of the night watch walked down the street. “Hey Tomma, glad you lot made it back. We were about to write you all off, figured you were captives or worse. Ha!” Chuckling to himself he gave me a nod and moved on down the road. I said nothing, but nodded and smiled weakly back at him as he walked away. Everyone would find out tomorrow. My head hanging, I headed to what was left of my home in silence, the rag doll still clutched tightly in my hand.
I stood in the mostly burned out shell, looking around at the place which had once been so familiar. Now the charred remains of my home seemed alien as I moved through them. Only one back room had survived the fires, its door frame blackened only slightly and the roof mostly intact. I knelt down and leaned back onto the mounded straw that was serving as my bed, as my real bed stood, or rather didn’t, a soaked pile of ash only ten feet away in the next room. I looked down at the doll in my hands once more, my thoughts raging with a ferocity that could have easily matched the winds of the previous day.
My eyes snapped open and I sat up. My neck cracked, and the tightness in my shoulder ached as I tried to move. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, but based on the pain I probably shouldn’t have slept partially leaning against the wall. The doll lay next to me, its soot scarred face staring blankly up at the corner where the roof had burned away. I picked it up and looked at it again. I wanted to throw it across the room, toss it into the fire and never think of Samual or his family again.
Outside the sky was aglow, a bright silver gold to the north spreading and lightening into the burnished silver of a new day as I headed to the well at the center of town. A ragtag crowd had gathered to use the cooking fires and collect water for the day. I handed the doll to one the miller’s daughter, their home had been destroyed in the past week. They had all survived, but they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the meager supplies the other villagers had been able to scrap together. I put the doll in her hand and gave her hair a gentle tousle, as she smiled up wide eyed at me. I could hear her talking excitedly to her mother and father as I got a drink and splashed my face quickly with the cool clear water.
The ancient stone walls of the meeting house were scorched by the numerous fires, the crumbling mortar long since fallen away from many of the joints replaced by the green ivy which was now nothing more than bare vines, twisted and blackened. The green timbers and fresh straw roof were out of place in the company of the age and wear so prevalent on the old building, as were the freshly split logs which served as wooden steps leading up into the dimly lit sanctuary beyond the great oak doors which remained defiant even in the face of the flames. The familiar creaking of the old steps was noticeably absent, as I made my way through the door and took a seat on one of the newly built benches. The scent of newly cut pine still clung to the air all around, fighting for supremacy against the ever present smokiness that now pervaded everyone and everything in the village.
The others had already arrived and sat scattered about the room, except for Lissel, who as always stood pacing about in the corner as she mulled over some deep thoughts known only to herself. The town council sat around the massive table in the mismatched chairs and listened in turn to each of us as we spoke our peace. I waited patiently taking the time to collect my thoughts and think carefully about how to present what I felt was my only role in the expedition.
Mikal looked up from a thorough inspection of his wrinkled hands, annoyance written plainly cross his age spotted face. “Tomma, it’s nice of you to join us this morning, you haven’t spoken yet, please give the council your thoughts on the visit to Drakenhelm.” His bitter old eyes glared into mine as he gestured for me to come to the front.
I rose slowly, using the precious few seconds to think on the events of the last week. I hadn’t spent much time thinking about the trip as a whole until now, all my thoughts focused on the last few minutes spent in Drakenhelm. I stood in front of the council, in the corner Lissel had stopped pacing and stood now facing me an encouraging and supportive smile on her face. I paused and looked about the room, a mix of faces young and old, all save one, patient and kind, waiting for me to gather my thoughts and speak. “We lost a good man. Samual was a good guard and a good friend to many in this village. But despite that, we can now take steps to start securing our future here. We should start making arrangements as soon as possible to take advantage of the aid we have been offered. ”
“Is that all? You go to Drakenhelm and you can sum all your thoughts up into four meager sentences.” Mikal’s hard voice cut through me like a knife.
“No actually, we went there expecting to be turned away at the gate. We came back with use of their quarries, and the knowledge that the Pyrians may have to potential of being allies. Right now they have little use for us, but lines of communication are more open they have ever been in all the years of this village. If we hadn’t followed the advice and wisdom of Lissel, yes Samual would still be here, but our village would be no better off than it was a month or even a year ago.” I glared back into his watery blue eyes, the defiance in my voice sending fire coursing through my blood.
“His rash comments, could have gotten all of us killed, not just your little band, but the entire village could have been wiped away. We were very lucky that they only held him responsible.” He rose from his seat and paused for a moment letting the words strike home, his jowls still quivering in the silence.
Lija stood a placing a gentle hand on Mikal’s. “Samual’s loss is an added darkness in these already dark times, but we must press forward. We have only a few short months in which we can gather stone from the quarry before winter sets in. They are a week’s walk east, just west of the great Eastern Wood. We need to rally every able bodied man, woman and child to gather as much as we can before the ice and snow set in. I fear the winter is fast approaching and we still have to rebuild as the stone is brought back.” The others nodded with her words, and after feeling the bite of the winds on the trip back, her words were probably not far from reality.
I left the building and walked along the streets, my feet leading me to some unknown destination. My thoughts were dark, we would be leaving the city undefended if everyone was out gathering stone, but there was little left to burn, and most of the elderly and weak had perished in the first attacks. There were still woman and children who could not be of use at the quarry, and a handful of sick and wounded men, those would be of little use as guardians for those that remained behind. When my thoughts had come back under my reign, I looked about to see I had made way outside the town gates, out onto the vast plains that surrounded our small village.
My gaze swept over the landscape, the crops were nearing harvest, just another moon or so. Some of the stalks were already standing taller than a man and the pumpkins were growing fat on the ground, their tendril like vines crawling out in all directions. To the north the sun was rising, just now breaking through the forest pass. Far on the western horizon, stretched out before me, gentle hills and a dotting of trees. The south had the ever present mountains, their looming darkness a foreboding mask across the horizon. To the east the quarries lay, our destination, and just beyond the Eastern Wood, a place sacred to the Pyrians.
To set foot in that wood was death. That much they had made clear when the village first submitted to their rule generations ago. What could be so important about a stand of trees? Clearly they were old, even at this great distance the tree line could be seen clearly along the horizon. The forest was many days away, just a dark jagged horizon which we must move towards. Off in the distance three small dark shapes shot up into the sky from the depths of the forest. I blinked as I tried to make out what I was seeing and in that instant they were gone.