Sechsdee, the 26th of Harvest, 768 A.E.
Anthea woke covered with sweat and gasping for air. She felt as though someone had sat on her chest and refused to move. As her hands clawed weakly at the blankets that held her captive, her eyes came into focus on one of Bedros’ heavy arms draped across her middle.
“Bedros.” She croaked. “I can’t breathe!”
The Ox-Man stirred with a snort, sitting straight up and grabbing for his mallet. He looked at the girl he was charged with protecting with a mixture of confusion and concern. One of his large eyes stayed on her while the other roamed around the room, searching for an enemy or the source of whatever had put her in this state.
“Your arm… It was on me. It’s heavy. I couldn’t breathe.” Anthea told him, placing one of her small hands on his large forearm.
“What’s going on?” Rolf demanded from the entry of his own room. He blinked and shaded his eyes from the light the Aurean crystal pods gave off.
Anthea looked over at him, surprised to see him in a state of minimal dress; he wore only a pair of sleeping breeches that were little more than a loincloth with pant legs that extended down just past the knee. The same dark hair that covered his jaw covered most of his chest and stomach, something Anthea found odd in comparison to Aureans, who lack body hair.
“I merely woke up. It’s of no matter. Thank you for your concern, but you may return to sleep.”
Rolf eyed the Ox-Man and the girl before him with mild suspicion. “You are certain?”
“Yes. I’ll be going back to sleep myself if Bedros doesn’t throw a limb over me again in his sleep.”
The Ox-Man made an embarrassed grimace. Rolf’s face opened, understanding dawning on him now.
“Well, dawn is not far off, perhaps an Ouer at the most, though I think less than that.” Rolf remarked.
“Even another half Ouer of sleep would be appreciated. I am exhausted, and the air is thick here.”
Rolf frowned. “Thick?”
“Yes,” Anthea replied tiredly, “the air is thicker here than where I am from.”
“How can that be so?” Rolf asked.
“Air thins with altitude.”
“It does?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t pretend to understand why everything is as it is, but take my word for this, alright? Climb a mountain sometime if you wish to discover that I am telling the truth firsthand.”
Rolf nodded, recognizing this as a dismissal. “Back to sleep for me, then.”
He left then, but Anthea found that sleep would not return to her as she lay amidst her blankets. Even Bedros’ rhythmic snoring, which she normally found reassuring and quite capable of putting her to sleep, had no effect on her now.
Instead, her mind drifted to her father and to the Hersker of this village, with whom she was expected to speak before she left the town. Yet she still had no idea where to go next even if they did leave. The enchantment had led here, to Rolf. She had saved him from what would have likely been death or at least disgrace, and then the trail had stopped cold. Her mouth kept forming the words, “What is the connection?” Nothing she could think of made sense though, and even when she eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep, an answer would not present itself to her.
Rolf’s morning activities, mostly relating to assembling a morning meal, woke Anthea the second time. Yawning, she crawled out of her bundle of blankets and began looking for the lavatory. Rolf, sensing her need, simply pointed at the narrow door that led into the modest home’s even more modest bathroom.
She shuffled past him and braved the glorified outhouse, which not an outhouse only because it was attached to a house, rather than being a separate building. The odor was offensive and the amenities lacking when compared to Aurean standards. She realized, as she tried and failed to hold her breath, that Aureans would be considered sticklers about cleanliness when compared to the Kerathi.
Even after she escaped the bathroom, the scent stayed with her. She feared she’d not be able to taste breakfast and felt a strong urge to take a bath. Had she not wanted to leave as early as possible this morning, she’d have demanded Rolf drew her a bath. Resisting the temptation was not easy. She took a slight, if selfish, comfort in the fact that no matter how much she sweated and ran around the island, no one would ever smell her while she traveled with her musky companion Bedros.
As it was, she scarcely had time to splash some water on her face and run a comb through her hair before they were called to eat. Rolf had stocked the table with a simple, but plentiful mix of bread, cheese, fruit, smoked meats and fish, and boiled eggs. He and Bedros were already eating by the time she appeared.
Because of his size and build, Bedros knelt beside the table. Anthea took the chair opposite Rolf’s, and began to eat quietly, particularly enjoying the honeyed cream that was provided for dipping bread in. She sampled most of the things offered, though she preferred the fruits and cheeses to the meat or fish, which were spiced in accordance with Kerathi tastes.
As she ate, she became aware of Rolf’s eyes on her, watching her contemplatively. Frowning, she said, “If you’re going to speak, do so, otherwise please do not stare. It’s unnerving.”
Rolf blushed in embarrassment, the skin of his cheeks above his beard reddening. “I am sorry. You are just…” he paused to think of an appropriate way to phrase his thoughts, “you are very different looking from my own kind. I was looking to see what Kerathi traits your mother had passed onto you, but you seem to favor your father’s kind.”
Anthea’s expression fell into gloom, and the muscles around her eyes tensed into a hurt look. His words were like a stab in her heart for two reasons. First, it reminded her keenly of her recent loss, or at the very least separation from her last living relative. Second, she had always wanted to resemble her mother more than her father, and hearing that she did not hurt her deeply.
Bedros grunted in disapproval. Sensing that his words had been taken poorly, Rolf averted his eyes from her and suddenly found his food very fascinating. The three of them ate in silence for the next couple Mynettes, until Rolf gathered up his courage to speak again, though he still would not meet Anthea’s eyes again after how she had taken his last words.
“You will be leaving soon to speak to the Hersker?”
“I think it best.” Anthea said curtly.
“Perhaps.” Rolf replied. “And you will leave the town after that?”
“Yes.”
“Where will you go?”
“The coast I suppose.”
“Norsjalde is the closest port city on Maethlin, if you’re seeking passage off the island that is.” Rolf offered helpfully, trying to make amends for his apparent insult before.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“You have had no more directions from your enchantment then?”
“No.” Anthea replied, sliding back away from the table and standing stiffly. She turned to leave, but hearing Bedros rise behind her, she stopped and looked back. “Bedros, stay, eat your fill. Who knows when we will next eat like this? I’ll gather our things to go.”
Bedros reluctantly resumed kneeling beside the table, but it was clear to Rolf that he was torn between wanting to eat and wanting to resume his protection of his charge. In the end, his stomach won out, but only because the Ox-Man considered Anthea to be safe in this place – for now.
“That didn’t go well.” Rolf announced grimly over a mug of lukewarm mead.
Bedros shook his head and sighed heavily. He took a great handful of bread in his giant hand, and lifted it to his mouth, consoling himself over Anthea’s sadness with food. Rolf did the same.
Anthea busied herself gathering their things and looking impatiently around the Familienheime while Bedros finished. Yet nothing she looked at or did could ease her mind, except the small statue depicting the divine brothers Comrain and Cainel on the mantel over the fireplace. The pair of Gods, the God of Hunt and the God of Battle, was twisted in a playful wrestle, a brotherly contest of strength. She took solace in the representation, even if the deities were not the ones her people favored. Their struggle seemed to parallel hers in ways and that was comforting.
?????
Esben waited for them outside the Stammheim. The sun had been in the sky for over an Ouer by the time Anthea and Bedros arrived with Rolf in tow. Esben stood with his arms crossed in front of him, his right hand toying with the beads braided into his beard. Even without his firearms, he cut an imposing figure in the morning light. Part of that might have been the rather serviceable length of metal whose hilt appeared just above his left shoulder and whose scabbard stuck out past his right hip. Though swords were something of an archaic weapon, their message was clear. When a man carried one, it was because he could use it.
Stolen novel; please report.
Anthea came to a halt four paces away from Esben, eyeing the sword that she assumed was meant as some sort of message for her, likely relating to the Hersker’s strength. Bedros stood beside her, but with his bulk he seemed to loom over and in front of her, an ever-present and protective mass. Rolf simply came to a stop beside and a little behind Bedros, where he assumed a patient expression and the stance of one prepared to wait a long time.
“Hersker.” Anthea said, inclining her head slightly as she spoke the honorary title.
Esben smiled briefly, eyeing Rolf as he did so. “I trust your evening was restful, Thaumaturge?”
“As restful as I could expect for anywhere other than home.” Anthea answered, ignoring the offered title. “Home is, after all, the best place to rest, and seeing how I am not there, the lodgings were more than sufficient for a night.”
“Good. Now, I have only the desire to hear whatever of your own story you would share with me before you leave. Unless, that is, you’ve changed your mind about staying for more than just last night? I’m sure Rolf would be willing to put you up for another Dee or two if it was your wish.” Esben suggested, eyeing the young man as he did so.
Rolf’s expression remained neutral, even when Anthea looked his way.
“I think we will continue on our way. We have much ground to cover.” She replied, looking back to the Hersker.
“I see. Well, Kerathi have long since learned that it is futile to try to keep a Thaumaturge where she does not want to be. I only hope that my clansman here did nothing to cause your quick retreat from our village.”
“No, he was hardly the cause. Bedros and I just have a rather distant destination in mind. The more Kilomes we put behind us on this Dee, the fewer we have waiting for our feet nextdee.”
“You make much sense. Still, it puzzles me how one who is clearly not Kerathi can hear and command the flowers to their will as you have said you can.” Esben commented, giving Anthea a questioning look that was really more like a command to explain.
Anthea regarded the Hersker cautiously, trying to determine how little she could get away with telling the man. Clearly, the less he knew the better, but to tell him too little would only incite his curiosity further, which might delay their departure if he was feeling ungracious. “My mother was Kerathi and my father Aurean. She taught me all I know of flower enchanting.”
Esben’s hand ceased its toying with his beard. “Truly?”
“Yes.”
“What was her name?”
“Linnea. She and a few others of her kind came among my father’s people Yarres ago, perhaps between 751 and 753 A.E. I’m not sure what their reasons were or the circumstances around her arrival, but she was there. My father took her as his wife, and I am the result.”
“Linnea? There was a Thaumaturge on Maethlin by that name about that time. I think I met her once, but any memories I have of her are vague. Does she still live?”
“She’s been dead eight Yarres now.”
“That is unfortunate for you and my people as a whole. The ways of death are Nelius’ domain, and who are we to understand the greater plans he has for us all?” Esben replied with a deep sigh. “And your father? I should like to speak with him if possible. I have never known or heard of another child borne of mixed parentage like yours.”
Anthea frowned, surprised at how prying some of these questions were. It was clear that the Hersker rarely spoke to anyone who was not his lesser. “We were… separated. I am traveling to rejoin him, so you can understand my hurry.”
“I see. Was it the crash that separated you? My clansmen confirmed Rolf’s story this morning. They only recently returned from the Aurean ship’s crash site.”
Rolf stirred at this, realizing that his honor was still intact now that the Hersker had acknowledged him as having told the truth. His shoulders rose and he looked as if a great burden had been lifted.
Anthea hesitated before answering, glancing at Bedros, whose large eyes spoke volumes even if he did not. “Yes, you could say that. The crash separated us from my father.”
Esben clicked his tongue and shook his head. “This, too, is unfortunate. You must have inadvertently angered Sellae and Gandahar, for they are playing tricks on you. Fate can be unkind sometimes.”
“If I did, I do not know how. Perhaps I will stop at the next shrine and make an offering of appeasement, just in case.”
Esben nodded, clearly liking her pious reply. “Do you have a specific port in destination? Norsjalde might be your best bet. It’s closer than Fjorlen and has more foreign ships come into port, which should benefit you if your destination is a long distance away and you need to book passage.”
“Thank you. That is what Rolf said as well. Seeing how you are both of the same opinion, perhaps I’ll take up your advice. Now, if you could just point the way, I’d appreciate it.” Anthea said, nodding toward the road that led out of the village.
“You are sure you won’t stay? We can always find good uses for a Thaumaturge. They can be very handy to have around. A city with one is considered blessed, even if she dwells within it only for a short while.” Esben said, but his eyes spoke to Anthea, telling her that were she to stay, he’d question her at length.
“I am sorry, but we must go.” Anthea apologized.
“You cannot blame me for trying.” Esben said with a sigh and an open-handed gesture of defeat that his eyes mirrored. “Follow the eastward road for three Kilomes and then head south at the fork in the road. Norsjalde should be twenty-some Kilomes from there. It’s a straight shot after the fork, so you can’t miss it.”
“East then south, very well. Thank you, Hersker, but you will excuse Bedros and I if we make our move now. Perhaps the flowers will lead me to someone who can help us there.”
“Go in good faith, Thaumaturge.” Esben replied, inclining his head a bit – a show of reverence that all Kerathi have for flower enchanters – as well as holding up his open left hand to say farewell.
They left Esben and Rolf to talk then, for Anthea reasoned that Esben assuredly had questions for his clansman, questions mostly about her. Bedros plodded alongside her as they used what was left of the morning to put some Kilomes behind them.
Rolf walked back to his Familienheime feeling exhausted, though he had done little more than answer questions for the past half Ouer. Esben had been most curious about Anthea and her companion. He wanted to know what they ate, how they slept, a number of other very commonplace things about the pair, although he’d questioned him about more serious things as well. He had asked much about her nature and family.
Many of the Hersker’s questions had been about things so mundane that Rolf could honestly not answer his queries one way or another – he simply had not been watching the two closely enough. Instead, he had listened carefully to her words and looked for obvious things that set them apart from the Kerathi. All Rolf knew, he had told, and that hadn’t seemed to be as much as the Hersker would have liked.
Still, it was all worth it to find his honor intact and his obligations to his people fulfilled. Lamont’s attempts to disgrace him had failed again, and he was safe until the next challenge. In fact, he might even come up with a challenge of his own for his stepbrother. The momentum in the game they played had shifted his way, and he owed it all to a foreign girl and her Ox-Man guardian.
Rolf chuckled as he thought of this. How unlikely was it that an Aurean ship should crash down over his head, an Aurean girl would save his life and honor, and then he’d be free of Lamont’s challenge, all in the passage of about one Dee?
As he reached a hand to open the door to his home, he heard a throat clearing beside him. Startled, he jerked his head to the side, expecting to find Lamont waiting to torment him. To his surprise, it was not.
“Olin.” Rolf said, eyeing the larger man with suspicion. The man was an occasional friend of both himself and Lamont, making his allegiances unclear. “What can I do for you?”
Olin rubbed his square, bearded jaw thoughtfully before answering. The quiet man was clearly torn about what he was about to say, which only piqued Rolf’s curiosity all the more.
“Is this about Lamont?” Rolf asked.
Olin nodded. “You could say that, but it’s also about your new friends.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am hesitant to tell you this, but I think that you need to know.” Olin said with a sigh.
“Know what?” Rolf demanded.
“Lamont, Kort, and Davin are going after the Aurean girl, and the Ox-Man. Lamont blames her for his failure yesterdee. They mean to kill them, Rolf.”
“They wouldn’t. It’s punishable by death to attack a Thaumaturge.”
“Yes, it is, but that’s for a Kerathi Thaumaturge. She’s Aurean.”
“She’s part Kerathi though.”
“Look, Rolf.” Olin said, lightly grasping Rolf on the shoulders. “This is not some trick Lamont has dreamed up to trap you. I swear this to you. He means to kill her, and I think Esben has something to do with it. He and Lamont spoke yesterdee.”
Rolf took a step back, his face a mask of confusion. “I don’t understand. He told her she could go in peace.”
“You’re overlooking the vital piece of the puzzle, Rolf. She’s not Kerathi.”
“I know that, but what does that matter?”
“She has powers that only our people have ever had. She’s a threat to our way of life.” Olin explained. “If others can be Thaumaturges, what advantages do we have over the Aynglicans and our other enemies? What if she falls into their hands and she’s made to give them children who can be Thaumaturges?”
“But why would he just send Lamont and the other two? Why did he not send the entire town after her? Or why would he not just have her killed here?”
“Because the other chieftains would have his head if he killed any Thaumaturge. If Lamont does it in a fit of stupid rage, the blame falls on him. He and his family will die for it, not Esben.”
“If she’s so horrible and dangerous, why should I not just let Lamont kill her?”
Olin sighed. “You know the answer to that as well as I: because you’d lose your mother when our people punish Lamont and his family for what they’ve done. And we both know the girl is innocent of everything other than being born different, and that is not something anyone can be held responsible for.”
“So what am I to do? If I interfere, I will be angering the Hersker, not to mention Lamont.”
“Leave, Rolf. I will explain to your mother, but you must go and stop Lamont, even if you must kill him to do it. What he and the others are going to do is wrong. You feel this as strongly as I do; I see it in your eyes. You owe her an Ehrenschuld – a debt of honor – even if she is not fully Kerathi.”
Rolf swallowed hard upon hearing the mention of an Ehrenschuld, which was a very serious matter for any Kerathi. The man’s words only brought to his attention what he was already feeling: that his sharing of his house had not fulfilled his duties to Anthea. His eyes searched the other man’s face for hope. “I won’t be able to come back, will I?”
“I don’t know, Rolf.” Olin admitted. “I will do what I can to keep your home safe from seizure while you are gone, no matter how long it is.”
“And what of you? What of your own honor? You are betraying a friend here.”
“No, I am righting a wrong that is about to happen, and I am aiding another friend.”
“You are a better man than I.” Rolf said solemnly.
“No, if I were, I’d have stopped Lamont before they left.” Olin said ruefully. “You are the one making the sacrifice. Hurry now, Rolf. They have but an Ouer lead on you, and they must be cautious as they follow Anthea and the Ox-Man.”
“Thank you, Olin. I cannot thank you enough for this.”
“Do the right thing and relieve my conscience of having waited this long to tell you. I have done wrong in not stopping this before now, and you can right it. Now go in peace and may Cainel smile upon your rifle and blade todee.”
Rolf nodded and clasped Olin in a rough embrace. Before they parted, Rolf whispered, “Look after my mother.”
Olin said nothing in return; he merely nodded. But he did so with such seriousness that Rolf knew Olin would give his life before seeing harm done to Rolf’s mother.
Rolf wasted no time rushing inside to grab the rifles that had been his fathers, his sabre, and a few simple travel supplies. There were few enough coins in his coffers, but he took them all. He did not know when he would return, and money sitting where he could not use it would do him no good. He also packed a couple furs to use for barter when they reached Norsjalde – if they reached Norsjalde. Three men stood between him and his duty, and there was a fair chance he wouldn’t make it past them all.
Olin was gone when he took to the road running, having paused only to offer a quick prayer at the effigy of the two favorite Gods of the Kerathi, Cainel and Comrain, above his fireplace. A few brief words with a bowed head and the knuckles of his two fists pressed together were all he had time for. Cainel and Comrain were not Gods who delighted in fancy celebrations though. They would see their will done in his deeds, or he would die trying.
He didn’t go as fast as he could, because he knew an outright sprint would just tire him out before he caught up. Instead, he chose a steady pace that he knew he could maintain for at least an Ouer. Maybe it would be enough.
