Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia) (5 page)

"No point? Of course there is. We can get there early and have a rest for a change, maybe a few warm meals, comfortable beds etcetera, etcetera."

"The walk will do you good. It's character-building you know." Arcon had that glint in his eye. "No more arguments, Blayke. I've already made up my mind. You should save your breath; you're going to need it." He had a large grin on his face. Despite the enormity of the task in front of them, it was good to be free and on the road again.

Arcon repeated the gestures of before with a small movement at the end, which negated the ward. Some spells and wards could be seen in the Second Realm. Spells had their own pattern which lit up next to the symbol of the realmist who made them. This might draw unwanted attention. Magic wasn’t always the answer. 

The early morning sky had been clear, however, dark, aggressive clouds were streaming rapidly toward them from the south. Their stop for lunch lasted barely long enough for them to swallow their food. Neither man wanted to be caught outside when the rain started. Arcon estimated they had until early afternoon to find shelter, so they walked even faster.

Premature night descended as the savage storm-front reached them. The only refuge was a lone barn in the distance. Arcon made a run for it, and Blayke followed. A lightning flash lit up the sky, shortly followed by its deafening crack of thunder. Rain cascaded, stabbing naked faces with shards of near-frozen water. Both men were puffing furiously when they reached the barn. They went in and closed the door. As they stood and looked around, puddles formed aro
und their feet from their water-laden clothes.

There was just enough light to make out that they were inside a storage facility filled with sheep and cattle feed. The large bundles of straw gave off a sweet yet sour odour, their gradual decomposition warming the air.

"Whoo hooo hooo." Phantom had found a comfortable perch in the rafters.

"You got here before the rain, hey?" Arcon looked up at his companion, who was almost invisible in the fading light.

Shame you can't fly Arcon, else you'd be dry too
. The laughter in the owl's mind voice held a note of superiority. Arcon shook his head. 

"What did he say?" Blayke knew they had been speaking. It happened all the time, and while frustrating, he had learned to ignore it to some degree. Still, it was no fun being left out all the time.

"Nothing important, as usual. He was just pointing out an interesting fact that I’m sure we wouldn't have realised had he not used his
vast
intelligence to impart it. We, being pathetic humans, can't fly and that’s why we’re wet right now." Arcon's sarcasm wasn't lost on Blayke.

"He's fairly rude for an owl, isn't he?" Blayke joined in the game.

"No, I think they are generally a rude and condescending bunch." A noise so soft it was barely audible over the rain emanated from the ground next to Arcon's shoe. "Little bugger tried to poo on me. Ha. The genius missed." Arcon moved away from beneath the bird. 

"Whoo, whoo, whoo." The owl's laughter reached their ears.

Blayke walked around the barn. It was clean and he could hear only intermittent dripping. There were plenty of places they could sleep, and if they left early in the morning, no one would know they had been there. They each fashioned a pile of hay to sit on. Dinner consisted of the last of the bacon, bread, and a carrot each. The only food they had left were a couple of apples. They would have to buy provisions in the next town they came across, which, with a bit of luck, would be in time for lunch tomorrow.

As they finished their early dinner
, the light deserted the barn. It was too dark to see anything other than during the occasional burst of lightning, which flickered light into every corner. Both men were tired. They rearranged their bundles of straw into beds. "Good night." Arcon yawned.

"Good night." Blayke hoped he would fall asleep quickly. He wanted to escape his not-quite-satisfied belly and the discomfort of wet clothes. However, the sound of heavy rain pounding on the roof ensured it was a while before he finally fell asleep.

In the early hours of the morning the vigorous flutter of wings awakened both men. Phantom had been swooping around the barn, then flapping madly to return to the rafters. Blayke sat up. He couldn't see anything in the dark but strained his ears. Arcon's annoyed voice came through the darkness, "Go back to sleep, Phantom's probably after a mouse." Blayke lay back down and was soon asleep.

During the night, the storm continued its assault toward the north, leaving a muddy, b
attered landscape behind. Early-morning light snuck through small cracks between the timbers and woke the barn’s occupants. Blayke stood and brushed himself down. He felt a weight in his pocket that hadn't been there before. He put his hand in, immediately jerking it out at the shock of finding something unexpected. Gingerly replacing his hand, he felt a soft, warm body. Widening the pocket open he was surprised to see a sleeping creature; a brown and white rat. That must have been what Phantom was chasing the night before. Poor thing. Blayke would leave him here after Phantom left the barn.

They each had a pack that contained a water bottle, apple, and spare socks. As they left the barn
, Blayke placed the rat gently in a dark corner under the straw. The rat looked up at him as if in thanks. "See you, little buddy. A bit of advice:  stay away from owls." Blayke laughed at himself for talking to a rat, then joined Arcon outside. "Where to today?"

"We should reach a village about lunch-time. We'll eat there and buy any supplies we can. Hopefully they’ll be well stocked; a lot of miners would go through there on their way to the mountains."

The road before them was saturated. The surface sucked at their feet and gripped every footstep. Each breath was visible in the cold morning air. The slight breeze was enough to turn their wet clothes into suits of torture. Both men shivered, hands and feet already numbing, so they walked fast, hoping they would soon warm up.

As lunchtime neared, the air was slightly less freezing. Blayke's clothes were almost dry now, his extremities warmer. The village was another hour away. 
As they drew closer to the town, the distance between houses shortened, the farm holdings grew smaller and more numerous, and the traffic on the road heavier. The road had dried out somewhat, making walking easier. The landscape was relatively flat, and Blayke found it almost boring compared to the spectacular mountain peaks they had grown used to.

In the distance, Arcon spotted four mounted men galloping toward
them. "Better get off the road; looks like they'll run anyone down who happened to get in their way." They hurriedly moved to the grass and kept walking.

The horses slowed as they reached the pair, one man leading the others. He was of middle years, broad-shouldered, with a battle-scarred face, his mouth lopsidedly curled in a permanent sneer. His clothes were ragged and his horse not much better. Mercenaries maybe? Whoever they were, Arcon didn’t like the look of it. 

"Good day, sir." He addressed Arcon.

"Good day."

"I was wondering if you could help us. We’re looking for a man, about your age, and a boy about his age, with his height and hair colour. They’re wanted for crimes against the king. Our instructions are to capture them at any cost—dead is just as good as alive.” He gazed meaningfully at Blayke. 

Arcon answered whilst looking at the inferior members of the group. “
I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

The leader’s sneer intensified. “
Oh, I think you can. Would you and your boy care to come with us?" His smile was less than inviting. The other men had moved their horses to encircle them. They all had their swords out to ensure the answer would not be in doubt.

"And with whom am I speaking?" This time Arcon turned to stare at the sneering thug, holding civility by the thinnest of threads.

"Pernoc, but you can call me Sir. I would advise you to come willingly." He looked at his nearest companion. "They did say take them ‘
dead
or alive’ didn't they? Yes, I was sure that's what they said, so maybe you don’t want to come willingly?" Pernoc’s horse had been inching toward Arcon, and was now almost touching him.

"Hmm, and who would
they
be?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis, and I'm pretty sure you don't need to know. So
, old man, what do you say, hey? Are we going to do this the hard way? In fact, that would probably be more fun for the boys; they have been cooped up a while."

"I really enjoy doing things the hard way, but I think I’ll be disappointed today." Arcon was making small gestures with his fingers. 

The man closest to Blayke jerked his beast sideways and slammed Blayke to the ground. He jumped off the horse and stood over his prey, sword raised. His companions laughed at the helpless young man on the ground. "Should have stayed home with your mamma. Roll onto your stomach, little girl, so I can tie you up." Blayke was not sure what to do, so he did nothing. “One more chance, boy. Roll over or your head’s going to roll off.” His sword descended toward Blayke's throat. Blayke stared at Arcon, teeth gritted, eyes pleading.

Arcon screamed, "Burn!" His finger pointed at Blayke's attacker. The stranger's clothes burst into flame. He shrieked, his sword falling harmlessly next to Blayke's head. Blayke grabbed it and jumped to his feet as the man fell. He looked around to see where the next assault was coming from, but his eyes were drawn back to the writhing man burning to death on the ground near his feet.

The other bandits were staring, mouths agape at the bonfire that only moments ago had been their comrade. "Forget the boy. Kill him!"

The leader charged at Arcon. Arcon didn't speak, just stabbed his finger at each bandit, one by one. It happened so quickly that Blayke hadn’t had a chanc
e to move during the encounter. He now stood staring at the four bodies aflame, screams no longer escaping tormented throats. The horses bolted in fright.

"Damn horses. If this gang were only part of a contingent sent to capture us, the horses will be fleeing right back to reinforcements. Quick, we'll have to get away from the road."

Blayke didn’t move, except to place his hand over his mouth and nose. He had never seen such carnage, and the smell. Burning flesh had a unique, sweet, sickly odour, and the smoke made his eyes water. He doubled over and vomited.

Arcon rushed to Blayke and helped him stand upright. He gently, but firmly, took Blayke's face in his hands. The same hands that had wreaked horror a moment ago were now the loving hands of his surrogate father. "Look at me
, boy. I’m sorry I had to do that, but if I hadn't, we would both be dead. Well, you would be anyway. I’m ashamed to say I was unprepared. Flame was the first thing I thought of, and I might’ve panicked just a little. Come on, we can't stay here a moment longer." Blayke's face barely registered what Arcon was saying. There was no time so Arcon slapped his face.

Blayke felt the sting and bent over again, this time vomiting on Arcon's shoes. When he stood
straight, his eyes held a new grim understanding of life and its other side. "I've never seen someone killed. It's sickening. I don't think I could ever do something like that." Arcon looked hurt. "Not that I think you're evil or anything." Blayke winced, knowing his reply was lame and did nothing to detract from the insult he had thoughtlessly given his uncle.

Arcon understood what Blayke was going through. Arcon had killed a few people in his lifetime; it was never pleasant. What was more than a little frightening was that the killing was easier each time. This time, when Arcon jogged away from the road, Blayke followed, eager to get away from the now-blackened corpses, and unaware of the extra weight in his pocket.

Arcon hated himself at that moment, for he knew Blayke would have to kill (probably many times) and it was he, Arcon, who had led him down that path. He told himself it couldn't be helped, and for the moment all their energy needed to be saved for the long road ahead. Unfortunately logic couldn’t smother the lamenting guilt and pain, which now inhabited the space left by an innocence destroyed—his or Blayke’s he wasn’t sure.

Breathing deeply and clenching his fists, Arcon dismissed all thought and focused on moving forward. His legs worked more quickly now, for he felt an urgency that couldn't be ignored. He had to communicate with Avruellen and warn her. Arcon hoped she was alright. If he had felt any complacency, it was well and truly gone, scoured away by his own murderous flames. The freedom he had felt as they left the mountains had been replaced by a nervousness that was new to him. They were nowhere near finding what they sought, and now their enemies were looking for them. He felt hunted and could suddenly sympathize with the rodents on which Phantom sustained himself. They needed a plan, but only one came to mind: he ran faster.

7

Bronwyn watched her aunt watching her friend.  "Aunt, please don't hurt her."

"Don't be silly.
I wouldn’t do that." She crouched down and placed fingertips on Corrille's brow, mumbled a few words, then stood back. Corrille's eyes fluttered opened, and she slowly sat up.

Her words raced one another in their haste to leave her mouth. "I'm sorry
, Miss Avruellen. I wasn't spying or anything. I ran away and thought to ask Bronny for help, but when I got to your cottage you were leaving. I didn't know what was going on, and I didn't want you to take me back home, so I thought I'd follow you." Avruellen was staring at the young runaway, one brow raised.  Corrille worried at Avruellen’s lack of sympathy. "I don't want to go home, and you can't make me.  If I can't come with you, I'll go my own way."