The Descendants Book One: The Broken Scroll Page 3

  “I know Roland, she was my mother after all,” Davin said.

  Roland shot his head up with a big grin. “What do you say to dinner with Niahm and me tomorrow night at our place, say around nineteenth hour?”

  Davin didn’t speak for a moment. He saw the happiness leave Roland’s face as quickly as it came. Davin heard him sigh loudly. He turned to him. It looked like Roland was trying to hold back something, but it wasn’t working.

  Davin finally said, “I don’t know. I don’t really plan on spending much time down here tomorrow. You know I’d prefer to not be down here as much as possible. You should feel honored I’m even talking to you.”

  Roland snorted, “Lucky, you’re a real ball of joy most of the time, aren’t you,” he said.

  Davin smirked at Roland. “Hey at least I’m still here. And I was somewhat kidding.”

  Roland frowned for a moment and it didn’t waver.

  Davin knew what was coming and decided to head it off.

  “You need some help with this stuff? I’d love to give you a hand,” Davin said quickly.

  Roland’s smile came back, “You just want to have a go with new weapons. Come on then, grab some gloves and stoke the fire for me.”

  Roland had taught Davin everything he knew about his trade over the years and was quite proficient. He had told Davin many times that he wanted him to take over the business someday, but Davin didn’t have the heart to tell him no yet.

  The middle of the day passed and Davin’s hunger got the best of him. He said farewell to Roland and decided to head over to the tavern across the street. Davin usually didn’t go to The Flamin’ Ale simply because it was always so busy. He preferred the quiet, darker atmosphere of the Dead Man Brewery place because it was more off the beaten path.

  He trotted down the brick street and headed toward the closest tavern, fearing the crowd that he would find there the whole way.

  Inside the tavern things were bustling as expected. The place was packed corner to corner.

  Over by the bar he saw the owner, Prack, taking orders and keeping busy. He was large, heavily bearded, and frightening looking to those who didn’t know his gentle nature. He was also the only Guildsman in Lemirre, invited into to the Merchant’s Guild a couple of years ago. He wore the gray, circular patch on the chest of his cloak proudly and attended meetings whenever his guild went on tour away from the capital.

  Partly why no one else tried to join the guild of their profession in this town was because of its location. The headquarters were all at the capital, a long trip from Lemirre.

  A man rose from the bar and headed for the exit. Davin decided to take the empty seat left in his place.

  “Don’t see you in here much. What brings you to my place today, Davin? .

  “I’m just hungry, Prack, nothing else. I’ll have the house special,” Davin said. Prack left Davin to place his order.

  Davin listened to the conversations going on around the room while he waited for his food. He remembered a time when he laughed, talked, and actually enjoyed the world going on around him.

  A short while later a plate of ribs and corn was placed before him. The first bite had barely hit the bottom of his stomach when a man in formal attire stepped through the threshold of the building.

  Davin recognized the man’s uniform as that worn by the kingdom’s Royal Postmen. Each town usually saw one of them once every couple of weeks. They generally only stopped at posthouses and inns. It was highly unusual to see this man in a tavern. And only official statements from the king himself or the army’s commander came by postman. Routine mail came by trained eagle.

  The man carried with him several rolled pieces of parchment. He nailed one next to the door and handed one to Prack. He didn’t seem bothered by the lull in conversation. In under a minute he was gone again. The patrons in the building became gradually louder again.

  Davin turned back to his lunch to find the barman reading parchment. He seemed deep in thought and Davin didn’t want to bother him. Prack spoke out loud to no one in particular.

  Prack swore, and then said, “What a shame.”

  Davin didn’t really want to talk, but curiosity got the better of him. He usually knew better than to start Prack talking. It was going to ruin his nice quiet meal.

  “What is?”

  Prack looked at him, obviously not expecting a response from anyone, especially Davin. He handed the parchment to Davin to read.

  As decreed by King O’Hara,

  First Captain Deverell, commander of the Grand Talamaraon Army, will be arriving in Lemirre in two days. He will be leading a small regimen. This stop will require the cooperation, respect, and fealty that would be expected of one in the presence of the king himself. Anyone person in violation of this command will be considered in act of treason and will be taken to the capital to be tried and imprisoned.

  His Royal Highness,

  Artair O’Hara

  This was exactly the kind of thing Davin didn’t want to get into. He avoided town for this reason. But here he was. He wasn’t leaving.

  “You have nothing to hide from the king, do you?” he asked at last.

  “No, no. I mean that most people here haven’t been too happy with O’Hara since he took the throne four years ago. You saw the way they reacted when the announcement was made.” He pointed at his patrons. “I don’t think many in the kingdom like O’Hara right now, but no one’s ever going be the first to stand up against him. That’s my opinion, anyway.”

  Davin smirked. “Isn’t that the way it always is. People have to know what’s in it for them. And all they see right now is punishment or death,” Davin said, starting to sound emphatic. “What chance would a group of any size have against the Grand Army?”

  Prack thought about it for a second. “Maybe the mere fact that his people would unite against him would be enough to wake him up.”

  “But who would be bold enough to start something like that?” Davin asked. He attempted to picture the possibility of Lemirre joining a cause with other cities in the kingdom. It proved difficult. The people here enjoyed the fact that they were more self-sufficient and isolated than the rest of the kingdom of Talamaraon.

  “I actually cannot think of anyone who would risk themselves for the common good like that,” Prack said, staring away from Davin pensively.

  Davin asked, “King Avery O’Hara was better liked I hear.” Prack nodded and Davin continued. “I never paid that much attention, but I remember people seeming much happier during his rule.”

  “King Avery O’Hara’s death was unexpected. I remember when it happened; the whole kingdom was in an uproar. He was at the peak of his popularity when he died.” Prack shook his finger at Davin, his voice growing softer. “There were more than a few that remained skeptical after it was announced that he had committed suicide. Many believed it was murder, but it could never be proved.”

  “No one investigated it any further?”

  Prack nodded with intensity. “Oh, I’m sure they tried. But that’s the problem with royal deaths. You can’t get very far when the king himself tells you to leave it alone, can you?”

  Davin started to ask why the king would be beyond investigation and then stopped himself. As Prack eyeballed him, Davin shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t affect me directly, I don’t really care.”

  Prack looked at Davin and frowned. “I’ve got family in the Greenlands. They tell me to be careful because the Grand Army isn’t just taking criminals. People have been taken away for simply looking at his soldiers’ in a funny way. The new First Captain is taking his job very seriously. And the governors are really sticking their noses into everything and reporting back to the O’Hara.”

  Davin looked at Prack skeptically. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  When Prack didn’t respond right away Davin asked, “What would the King have to gain from that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious, how else would the King control us, but through fear.
”

  Davin shook his head, “There’s got to be another reason, but I’m not going to sit around here and argue about it. It sounds like no one has anything better to do here than talk about the King’s poor decisions. When O’Hara, this First Captain, or the governors have finally crossed the line, people will take action. That’s the belief I hold.”

  Prack groaned. “I don’t know. Even with the Guild Directors advising the King now, it doesn’t mean things will get any better. Not with the governors and the army in control.”

  “We’ll see,” Davin said. “But in the meantime, I’ve got some meat to trade.” Prack waved him off.

  After finally leaving the tavern behind, he realized the day was getting later and regretted putting off the main reason he came into town today. His pointless and redundant conversation with Prack hadn’t helped. He made his way to the end of the main street and turned off the brick-paved road onto a dirt covered side street.

  He stopped in front a shop that said “Brax’s Meats, Trade or Buy.” Some traded meats for other meats. Some traded meats for money, and some just simply bought meat.

  Davin was not too fond of Brax, but he was only trader in town who had taken his Crocata meat in the past. Brax was all he had right now.

  He entered the small wooden store and looked round. The smells were always strong in the meat shops. His eyes finally settled on Brax. The white-haired old man had bony hands and skin that seemed as if it would peel right off. It loosely clung to his body and was marked with gashes and scars from a lifetime of experiences. He still managed a strong gait, however, as he walked to the counter.

  “Davin,” he called out, “so what have you got for me today? No more Crocata meat, I hope.”

  “You’re not going to like it, but I need money. You’re the only trader in town who takes this meat from me.” Davin held up the beast.

  Brax shook his head, “You know what I told you the last time. I can’t trade this anymore. Not enough will buy it.”

  “I promise beyond all promises, this is the last time,” Davin begged. In the back of his mind, he knew the attempt was futile.

  “I’m said no. You know that if you had brought me one of those other animals that roam the forest, I’d be more than willing to make a deal. Bring me a Cockatrice or even Ercinee, anything else but Crocata. That’s my final word.”

  Davin wasn’t about to bring up why he hadn’t been able to catch those animals lately. It was a waste of breath on Brax.

  Davin yelled out before he even knew what he was saying, “What am I supposed to do? You know what will happen if I can’t support myself.”

  “Yes, I do,” Brax spoke very confidently,” you’ll have to go find a job as a farm hand or head for the Acadeem.”

  “I refuse to be forced to do that.”

  “Well, you may have to get used to it, just the way of the world, son. Every person in the kingdom is either born rich, learns a trade at the Acadeems, or works a menial job. And I know you aren’t the first option. Perhaps cleaning the toilets of the rich might suit you. Oamlund has several mansions and it’s only a few days away.”

  Now Brax was goading him. Davin didn’t want to listen anymore. This was the speech he had heard for a long time, at least since he was old enough to work a trade.

  Davin’s face grew fierce. “I will get by on my own, with or without your help.” He stormed toward the door, the Crocata over his back.

  As he reached the threshold Brax spoke one more time, barely audible, but serious. “Exactly, Davin, that’s the problem.”

  This did nothing to make Davin feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse. So what if he didn’t rely on anyone to get by. It just meant he was a little more independent.

  There were times when he loved that he was isolated from the horrors and problems of the rest of the world. Something inside of him- maybe it was Roland- nagged, telling him he couldn’t live like this forever. He knew that. He just wasn’t ready for the change yet. The solitude was necessary.

  The sun sinking behind the hills made him think of something he hadn’t done in quite a while. On top of the hill by his house was a great view of the kingdom that he never got tired of.

  Without really willing it, he trekked up the hill. The side he climbed was on a shallow incline and he had practically worn a path into its undergrowth.

  A few minutes later he reached the top. The sun was still up, just barely.

  The other side of the hill was more of a rocky cliff face that fell straight down. At the edge of the cliff sat a lone rock, perfect seat for a great view.

  It really has been awhile since I’ve been up here, he thought. The last time he’d come up this way it had been with Roland, months ago.

  The sun began to sink below the horizon line casting a golden façade on the kingdom. From this spot Davin could see the Golden Plains that existed just below the foothills. The open, rolling landscape went outward to the end of his line of vision. Beyond that place were the Greenlands, where the majority of the kingdom’s population resided. It housed several cities, all within short distances of each other. He’d never been far outside the foothills his whole life, but others in Lemirre talked about their travels a lot, including Roland.

  Farther north Davin was less sure about. He knew the Capital, Eire, was in the northeast corner of the kingdom of Talamaraon. There was an expansive desert as well. Other kingdoms lay across the seas, but from what he understood they all kept to themselves for the most part. Few ever travelled that far from his small town to be able tell stories of the faraway lands.

  It took a few minutes for him to realize that there was something odd about his sight. As he squinted into the distance, he noticed his vision seemed to have improved. He blinked and looked again. There was definitely something strange going on. His eyes again focused on the distance, and instantly he saw an enhanced detail of things farther away.

  This was very puzzling. No one he had ever met had ever spoken of this ability. He couldn’t believe it.

  Was he going crazy or was this actually happening? He stood bewildered, aching for an explanation.

  No one in the real world had ever had abilities such as this that he’d known of. Only in legends and fireside tales did gifts like this come forth. Was he experiencing the symptoms of some fatal illness?

  No, that wasn’t it.

  Long after the sun had already gone down, he finally began to go back down the hill. His mind wandered over explanations for his improved sight.

  Almost automatically though, his mind switched to hunting. Suddenly his heart leapt with excitement. The fear of this new gift abated almost as quickly as it came. The possibility of hunting made easy consumed him. If he could force himself to wake from those irritating dreams soon enough, he would have no trouble making a catch for the day.

  He had to stop the dreams. This he was sure of.

  He would do anything it took to keep himself from succumbing to fitful dreams. His livelihood depended on it. There would be no more visions of people that had nothing to do with him. Whatever it was plaguing his dreams, it wouldn’t plague him anymore.

  Chapter 3 Secrets in the Forest

  “Thank the Ancients,” Davin said for the third time since sunrise. At last, his morning hadn’t been squandered. He felt exhausted, but that feeling was over shadowed by his change in mood. The smile on his face did not leave even while he sharpened his dagger and made sure his bow was fit for killing.

  His hunter’s bow and basilard were well made and never failed him. Both had been gifts from Roland. Being close to the blacksmith had its obvious advantages.

  A part of him wanted to believe it was his sheer determination that kept his dreams at bay. Deeper analysis caused him to not be so sure. If his dreams were some sort of calling, they would not be stopped by just willpower. Still, he was grateful that there was a simple way to overcome them…for now at least. If they came back, he would deal with the nuisance then.

  There was n
o way he would miss out on the choice animals that roamed the forest at this time in the morning. So many people feared the forest to no end. He openly welcomed the chance to scavenge through its western edge. Something about it made him feel at home. But if he’d told anyone that they’d think him crazy, even Roland.

  He stepped outside the door of the shed and strolled into the early morning light. With a quick turn he faced the path he took to the forest edge. The forest was a league east of Davin’s cabin. It took some trudging through some small rocky hills to get to, but it wasn’t anything your average traveler couldn’t handle.

  He grabbed a canteen full of water, and some dried jerky meat to snack on. As he strapped his dagger to his side he thought he heard a voice in the distance. He stopped and looked around. No one was there.

  Checking the tautness of the bow string, he walked on. He had just made it to the first rocky hill when he heard a male voice calling out to him. He looked back again.

  “Davin!” the man called. Davin turned to see who was interrupting his hunting time. It was Roland.

  “What do you think you’re doing, climbing all the way up here to see me, old man?” Davin mocked him jovially.

  “Well, I was going try to get you to come work for me again today.” His eyes moved down to the bow in Davin’s hand. “But it looks like you’re on your way out hunting. I’ll leave you to it, kid.”

  Roland turned to leave.

  “Why don’t you join me, Roland? I know you are dying to get out and hunt. It’s been awhile.”

  “I’ve had my reasons.” He gestured at his body. “I’m not in the shape I used to be. There’s no way I would keep up with you.”

  Davin laughed at Roland’s poor excuse. He certainly wasn’t as fit as he used to be, but by no means was he out of shape. Making armor and weapons all day made sure of that. The real reason was Roland just didn’t like being in the forest.

  “That’s a load of dung and you know it,” Davin shot back.