Child of Fate (3 page)

The next day Alto and Darren worked to teach
their siblings more about tending the farm. The youngsters could do
the simple chores like milking the cows and fetching eggs from the
chickens. The children needed to learn the plowing, sowing, and
other work that required a strong and steady hand. Throughout the
day, Alto’s thoughts were scattered, often taking a flight of fancy
to the armor and sword that rested in his father’s trunk.

The following day, his father awoke for the
first time. Lana fed him soup and gave him water, and then he fell
asleep again for many hours. The next day he woke with a clear
head. Alto waited until his mother and brothers and sisters were
busy before going in to speak with him.

“Father, do you remember what happened?” Alto
asked him.

“Thrown from my horse,” his father said, his
eyes fixing on his son. “Goblins spooked it…they’re cowardly
things, they must have ran. Was it you that found me?”

Alto shook his head. “Gemini brought you
back; your foot was caught in the stirrup. He dragged you and the
plow to the barn,” he told him.

“We saw to you, and then I rode out to make
sure the raiders you spoke of passed us by.”

“I don’t remember much,” Halgin said, clearly
unhappy about the situation.

“I found some people…good people,” Alto
amended. “They helped kill the goblins and they came here so their
priest could heal you.”

“Helped kill?” Halgin asked, lifting his head
a little to get a better view.

Alto nodded. “Well, they did most of it, but
one of the goblins tried to flee and came at me. I killed that
one.”

Halgin grunted, laying his head back on his
pillow. “And how did you manage that?”

“I took your sword and your armor and rode
Sebas,” Alto explained.

Halgin sighed and remained silent for a
moment. When he finally spoke, he did so in a voice Alto knew was
one meant to offer guidance. “It’s good to fight for what’s yours,
my boy. But killing for a living’s not our way of life. Not even
goblins and the like.”

Alto nodded, falling into silence for a while
and letting his gaze drop to his hands. He glanced back, expecting
his father to have fallen asleep, but the man was staring up at the
ceiling instead. “A proper healing is a hundred and fifty gold in
Portland,” Alto said.

“Aye, I remember your mother saying as much
yesterday. Not to worry; I’ll make do,” Halgin said.

It was another long and tense minute before
Alto spoke again. “I could help earn the money.”

Halgin sighed, and then looked at him again.
“How’s that, by soldiering? Soldiers don’t make much, not as much
as we can in a season working the land. And they spend what they
don’t gamble away on women and drink.”

Alto shook his head. “No, not soldiering.
That’s the same mind Tristam had about them. Tristam’s in charge of
the men I ran into that helped us.”

“You think Darren’s ready for the work you’d
be leaving him? And the others? Caitlin, Kressa, Juell? And Harvest
and Edwin—they’re barely old enough to walk without falling over!
”

Alto nodded. “Darren and I have been showing
them the way of things. They learned fast, and I’ll be back by
harvest.”

Halgin let out a final breath of disapproval.
“You’ve made up your mind then. I’d been wondering if this was my
last year with you. You’re a beast of a man, that’s true enough.
But the strength of a plow horse isn’t enough for what you’re
after. Aye, you’re a smart boy, but you’ve got to think quick and
know what to do. One mistake and you’re done. It’s a dangerous
path, son. I’d much rather you wanted my help in setting up your
own place and your own land to tend.”

Alto hung his head for a moment and then
lifted it to stare his father in the eye. “I want peace and good,
honest work, but I don’t want it because someone else gives it to
me. I want to earn it. I want to make sure when I’m ready for
something like this that I can take care of what’s mine and help
those who need it.”

Halgin chewed on his lip for a moment and
then he nodded. “It’s not what I’d have chose for you, but I’m
proud all the same. You’re a fine son, the finest a man could want.
You’re too old to tell otherwise, and too big if that weren’t the
case!”

Alto found himself smiling with his father,
and fought back the emotions that threatened him. “I’ll be back to
help, and I’ll be careful, too.”

Halgin nodded. He gave his son a smile and
said, “Go, before your mother comes in and wrestles the truth from
me and tries to stop you.”

Alto’s grin widened. He clasped Halgin’s good
hand in his and then rose up. He turned and his eyes fell on the
trunk with his father’s sword. He turned back, his lips parted to
ask the question he couldn’t find the right words for.

Halgin saw him trying and smiled. “No, I’m
sorry. You’ll have many swords in your life, Alto. Some will be
better than others, but they’ll be nothing more than tools until
you find the one that you’ve earned.”

“Isn’t working or buying one enough?” Alto
asked, confused.

Halgin chuckled, and then grimaced at the
discomfort movement in his chest caused. “Perhaps. The day will
come when you’ll know what I mean. Take your bow and arrows and a
good knife, though. It’s been a while, but this isn’t the first
sign of goblins coming out of the mountains. We’ll need to keep
what weapons we can to defend the farm.”

“All right. Thank you. For everything. I’ll
be back!” Alto vowed.

“Go, boy, and hurry before they find a way to
stop you!” his father said with tightness in his voice.

Alto nodded again and left his father’s side.
He made straight for the room that he shared with Darren and his
youngest brother, Edwin. He bundled up a change of clothes and what
few personal effects he had, such as the silver Tristam had given
him and his bow, arrows, and knife. He slipped out of the house,
slipping quietly past the kitchen where his mother and two younger
sisters worked, and then to the outside.

In the barn, Alto bid Darren a hushed and
hurried goodbye, explaining that he was going to be gone for a few
months, but that he would return for the harvest. Alto feared
Darren wouldn’t understand the torrent of words and emotions.

Mounted on Sebas, Alto had only just ridden
out of view of the house when he heard his mother calling for him.
He steeled himself against the urge to turn back, and then had to
fight back the guilt. Her cries faded from his ears in a few
moments but it took far longer for their echo to fade from his
heart.

* * * * *

“Oy! You there, boy! You look hungry. Come,
I’ve got the finest smoked meats this side of the Northern
Divide!”

“Fresh in from a long ride? I bet a nice bath
and some companionship would do you good.”

Those cries and others assaulted Alto as he
entered Portland. He spun in the saddle, trying to take in the
different people calling out to him and to others that came in
through the opened gate. He saw food and drink, weapons, shields
and armor, wagons with men looking for laborers or guards, and
other people hawking their wares. He heard a woman call to him,
offering a bath and companionship. Alto was already blushing when
he turned to look at her, and then dragged his gaze away as fast as
he could when he saw the buxom woman was old enough to be his
mother.

Alto tried to ride through them all, only to
be stopped by a guard wearing a leather jacket and a helm. “Ho
there, son, are you royalty?”

Alto’s eyes widened. “N-no!”

“Are you pulling a wagon? Have a permit to be
on important business?”

Alto glanced around and shook his head.

“Then get off your horse!” the guard
bellowed. “The stables are over there.”

Alto spun and saw a large barn tucked against
the city wall, complete with a sign showing a picture of a horse.
He dismounted and apologized to the guard, and then turned and
walked Sebas toward it.

Several minutes later and with his purse
lighter by three silver pieces, Alto strode away from the throng
near the gate. His saddle bags rested across one shoulder as he
walked through the town. The streets grew crowded again as he left
the market near the gate and funneled into a street. He felt a tug
at his side and glanced down to see a short section of leather
thong bounce once on the ground. A boy barely older than Edwin was
running away from him.

Alto took off after him. The pouch only held
a few silver and copper pieces he’d acquired over the years but it
was all the money he had. The thief disappeared into the crowd
within a dozen paces. Alto stopped and looked around, his heart
sinking. The grumbling of others passing by forced him to turn back
and keep walking.

In a few minutes, Alto strode across a sturdy
wooden bridge that spanned a river. He turned and stared at the
buildings nearby, craning to catch a glimpse of something he might
recognize. He was swept along by the crowd, and then had to
scramble out of the way when a coach led by a team of magnificent
horses bore down on him.

“You look lost.”

Alto spun about and tripped on the wooden
porch that surrounded the building he was next to. He recovered his
balance and glanced up at the wooden sign. It had been years since
his father had taught him how to read. Most of what he’d learned
he’d forgotten. Lucky for him the foaming mug on the sign left
little doubt to the building’s purpose. Beneath the sign, with a
broom in hand, he saw a brown-haired girl with freckles on her
cheeks studying him.

“Is it that obvious?” Alto asked.

She grinned. “We’re not open yet. Were you
hoping to come here?”

“I don’t think so.” Alto hesitated and looked
around. He turned back to her and jerked his thumb toward the river
he’d just crossed. “Was that the Yelb?”

“No, that’s the Sadani,” she said. “The
Yelb’s in farther. Just outside the castle proper. There’s some
locks set up between the two near the market.”

“I just came from the market,” Alto said. “It
was near the gate.”

“That’s just merchants and whores preying on
travelers coming to town, not a proper market,” she said with a
laugh.

“Oh, um, okay. What are locks?”

She giggled. “You really aren’t from around
here. They’re a dug out section with walls that raise and lower to
let boats pass from one river to the other.”

“I’ll have to look at that; it sounds
amazing,” Alto admitted. He couldn’t understand how such a thing
could work; wouldn’t the water keep the walls open? He ran his hand
through his hair and looked around again. “How do you live in a
place like this? It’s so full and busy!”

“Farm boy?” She giggled again.

Alto’s cheeks reddened as he nodded. “I am.
Or I was. I’m here to meet some people.”

“Ooh, secrets,” she teased him. “I’m Aleena;
this is the Foaming Mug.”

Alto glanced up at the sign and laughed. He
didn’t need to read when he could guess the name outright!

“Something funny about that?”

“Oh! No, nothing. I’m sorry. Just a fitting
sign, is all. I’m Alto, sorry.”

“You should come back after you meet your
friends, Alto,” Aleena said. “We open at high sun and the ale’s
always cold.”

Alto slapped his mouth shut and nodded. “I’ll
do that,” he managed to stammer. “If I can, I mean. Otherwise,
another time? Do you, um, do you live here, too?”

“My father owns the inn,” she said. “And
he’ll probably threaten to tan my hide if I don’t sweep these
boards proper.”

“Oh! Right, of course. I wouldn’t want that.”
Alto backed away and offered a wave to the laughing girl. His
cheeks flaming redder than ever, Alto turned and let himself be
swallowed up by the moving crowd again.

He wandered, his height helping him see over
the heads of most of the other morning travelers. It had taken him
days to reach Portland, thanks in no small part to him needing to
ask directions at every turn. He’d been so turned about at one
point he doubted he could even find his way home. Crossing one road
to the next, he began to wonder if he would become just as lost
here.

He followed a bend in the road and saw a wall
that rose nearly twice as high as the outer gates. A portcullis was
raised in the road ahead of him, but on this side of it he saw
another bridge. Alto stopped in the middle of the road until
someone bumped into him from behind. He hurried forward, excited to
think that he’d found his destination at last.

The ornate design he saw upon the massive
building was not what he expected. Rather than a sword and axe, he
saw only the sculpted metal of a blazing sun high above the
entrance to the church. He frowned and started to turn away. He had
to keep searching; no doubt there were other roads that crossed the
Yelb.

A figure emerging from the temple caught his
eye. He turned his head back and believed that his luck might not
be all bad after all. “Karthor!” Alto cried out.

Seeing Alto, the man smiled and waved. “Well
met,” Karthor said when he walked closer. “What brings you to
Portland? You seem out of place.”

Alto nodded emphatically. “Aye, this city
is…large. And close!”

Karthor chuckled. “It can be overwhelming,
but it is small, as cities go.”

Alto couldn’t imagine a larger city. He shook
his head in awe. “Where is Tristam? I want to take him up on his
offer.”

Karthor smiled and turned to point back down
the road they were on. “Take the next road to the right for two
blocks. You will see the Yelb. The Blades stay there between jobs.
Come, I will show you.”

Karthor led the way, inquiring as they walked
about Alto’s father and family. Alto found him easy to talk to and
shared more than he expected. Their conversation was cut short when
Karthor led him to a plain building next to an equally
plain-looking tavern.