Wealdenmynd - Chapter 1 - Saved by the Death of Loyalty

Movement broke the chilled scene as out of the mist walked a pair of shadowed figures wearing hoods against the wind. �Who is it?� Said a male voice, deep and dangerous from under the first cloak. �Announce yourself stranger.� The second figure, a woma

- Chapter One -

 

Spared by the death of Loyalty

 

The wind shivered its way down the darkening woodland path, leaving nothing but rustling leaves in its wake. What little moonlight there was shone down through the branches of the trees, playing with the gathering mist leaving behind a chilling, swirling glow. The path crawled on in both directions, further than you could see in the dying light. The overbearing branches, the mud filled path and the sound of rustling leaves coming from the wood only added to the sense of age, the sense of history being given off from every visible part of the landscape. If the trees could talk, they would tell stories of a thousand lonely walkers, broken couples, horrible deeds and frozen nights. The path had seen many things over the centuries, and each one had taken its toll upon it, each story adding another layer of cold to the already frozen past.

 

Movement broke the chilled scene as out of the mist walked a pair of shadowed figures wearing hoods against the wind. The first was taller and broader than their companion and walked with a sense of purpose, alert and aware, their spirits flitting silently from tree to tree, filling every space they could, feeling their way along the path. The little balls of golden light cast an odd glow upon the leaves they disturbed, temporarily moving them out of the cold mist and into a brighter world before moving on, leaving them dull and dark once more. The second figure, small and short, kept looking backwards with the air of a person running from something far swifter and far stronger than themselves, their spirits tucked in close to their billowing cloak. They continued to walk, past Oalk trees and thorny bushes, past shafts of light and darkened shadow until, out of the mist, footsteps could be heard, stumbling towards them.

 

‘Who is it?’ Said a male voice, deep and dangerous from under the first cloak. ‘Announce yourself stranger.’

The second figure, a woman, shifted from foot to foot. ‘It could be…’

 

‘I know Aaril, stay alert. If it is, run into the woodland, hide there until… well…' The man turned his hooded face back along the path. 'I said announce yourself stranger!’

 

‘Stranger? I’ll be takin’ that personal if you mutter it again.’ A third figure came into view under a shaft of moonlight. It was obvious from the way their misted breath billowed from beneath the folds of dark fabric that they were tired and had been following behind for a good distance. His cloak, more ragged than the others, was ripped and coated in mud. Most of his spirits were hovering around a small bundle of cloth in his arms, some, however, seemed to be keeping guard over a brown leather bag on his back.

 

‘Oh thank Gods,’ said Aaril, one of her spirits flicking out to greet the new comer before returning to her, ‘for a moment I thought…' Her voice wavered as she broke off. 'What happened Teraous?’

 

‘I got them both.’

 

'How did you get away? What happened to the others? Is she ok?’

 

‘All righ’, all righ’, keep ya hood on, give me just a sec to breathe. I’ve heard it helps ya know.’ The man wiped his brow with his free hand, showing just a hint of light ginger hair beneath his hood.

 

‘The kids’ doin’ ok, as for this,’ he said with a touch of distaste in his voice as his pulled the bag off his back, ‘it’s untouched; Harran got it and passed it over to me. She fought me for it, an’ Harran too, but I… well I dunno, I musta been lucky I guess.’

 

‘More likely she couldn’t fool you into handing it over.’ Said the first man taking the brown leather bag from Teraous.

 

‘Arh, maybe, still, S’far as I know, the others scattered when you did, t’was only me and Harran left….I got away…’

 

‘And Harran?’ asked the first man. A sob came from under Teraous’ hood. He bowed his head and shifted uncomfortably, a deep sadness coming from every fibre of his moon lit silhouette. ‘Ok, was he the only one?’ asked the first man. Teraous nodded again.

 

Aaril slumped to the ground, her shoulders shaking. She put her hands up against her face and pushed them into her eyes. The mud oozed into her shoes, over her legs, leaving her cold and wet, but she barely noticed. A few of her spirits drifted up and brushed against her hands. She had a cut on her head that had been bleeding onto her long blonde hair.

 

‘I don’t understand.’ She sobbed. ‘Why her? And what did he do to deserve that?' Waves of tears rippled through her body as she sat at the feet of the other hooded figures, shocked and dejected.

 

‘We must hide Searah.' Said the first man, putting his hand gently upon Aarils shoulder. 'If anything else happens, she can't be found. I think it would be best if the bag was removed from sight as well, hidden nearby I think.’ He looked down at the bundle in the second mans arms. ‘It may be needed one day.’

 

‘I know s-some people,’ stuttered Aaril ‘they know about us, I’ve t-trusted them for years. They’ll take -’

 

‘Oh now I can’t be having with that’. All three whipped round at the new comers shrill, cold voice. She stood there, shoulder length black hair shinning in an unnatural light that seemed to be coming from nowhere, her clothes ripped and covered in blood. Her spirits were spiralling around her, round and round, wiping up a wind that billowed her long coat out across the path. ‘I think you should be passing the child over to me.' Her voice was dry and raspy, almost inhuman, and coursed with power and anger that spread to her dark, bloodstained eyes.

 

A chill passed over the scene. Cloaks and spirits fluttered in the wind as the moon light seemed to die. Only the dark haired woman, bathed in the light of her unnatural glow and the faint light of the spirits were left to cast an eerie radiance over the scene. The air was like poison, catching in the trios’ chests.

 

‘Run Aaril,' said the first man, his voice dangerously quiet, 'go now and don’t look back, take the child and go.’

 

‘Stay where you are, that child belongs to me.’ The black haired woman pointed a long finger towards to bundle of cloth. ‘Give her here!’ Her spirits suddenly shot outward towards the child, but Teraous spun around and half threw the bundle to Aaril. Aaril meant to run, meant to flee but her feet seemed to be stuck in the mud of the path. All she could do watch the black haired woman advance towards them. Her spirits pulled away down the path but still she couldn’t move. The black haired woman let out a low, rasping growl and started to speak.

 

‘Agan min gemynd æt incet, se an ich secan. Fegan æt mec ond næfre alæten min healf. Agan min gemynd æt incet…’

 

‘What's she doin’?’ asked Teraous.

 

‘I’m not sure,’ replied the first man, his voice wavering for the first time, ‘I didn’t think she knew any of the old tongue. It must be…’ but before he could finish what he was saying, the light around the dark haired woman seemed to concentrate. It looked like it was being forced into the woman’s outstretched hands. Thin tendrils were winding themselves around her fingers and up inside her coat around her arms.

 

‘mec ond næfre alæten min healf. Agan min gemynd…’ her voice was growing louder and she had stopped walking towards them now. The light around her fingers was growing brighter and brighter, and by the look on the womans face it was burning, she was screwing up her eyes in pain.

 

A small tendril flicked out from one of her fingers and connected to a nearby branch like lightening to the ground. In an instant, the branch burst into flames, all the leaves turning to dust as the light ripped through them.

 

Teraous wiped round and pulled off Aarils hood. Her long blonde hair, covered in a thick mixture of blood and dirt, half covered the look on her face, her light blue eyes opened wide in terror. ‘Come on girl, run!’

 

‘Fegan æt mec ond næfre alæten min HEALF!’ the black haired woman screamed the last word, and as she did a violent streak of light crashed along the path. The light ripped across the bundle of cloth but out of nowhere the first hooded man threw himself in its way.

 

‘AAAAAAAAAARHHHHHHHHHHHH’ His scream cleaved the air apart, his spirits throwing themselves in between him and the burning, blinding, mortiferous light.

 

The screaming seemed to wrench Aaril from her petrified stance. She stood up and snatched the bag in one movement, slipping in the mud. People were shouting, there was scuffling from behind her as she ran. A bang, a shout, a high laugh and another scream. Aaril ran with all the strength her weakened legs could muster, her lungs screaming for air as she went. Terror filled her heart as a silence fell on the scene behind. Aaril ran as fast as she could along the frozen path, her feet crashing down hard into the mud, almost slipping over but catching herself each time. She held the bundle of cloth firm in her arms, but the leather bag on her back was loose and kept smashing into her spine, but she barely noticed the pain of the bags heavy load and the bruises it was leaving. She ran past large Oalk trees, the darkness enveloping her as she disappeared into the shadows of the wood. She must have been running for hours, but she dared not stop. She was sure that both the men she had left behind were dead. Tears streamed down her face as she ran, leaving a cold, stinging trail down her cheeks. Her spirits swirled violently in her wake, pulled along by her desperation to get away.

 

The path would fork to the left or right, and each time she came to one she pick at random and kept running. She had no idea where she was headed, only that wherever she ended up had to be better than where she had been, the Oalk trees thinning with every painful step.

 

It was nearing dawn when Aaril finally smashed through a gate at the end of the path. She had come out onto a road that ran alongside the forest she had emerged from, the other side of which seemed to be open fields. An old wooden signpost stood opposite the gate and had words carved into it.

West

Gedisford 42 leagues

Telfia 222 leagues

Nomans Point 289 leagues

East

Faransley 20 leagues

Weedlham 64 leagues

Bareén City 235 leagues

 

Aaril lent against the gate for a few minutes, catching her breath and looked down at the cloth bundle she carried. A small hand was poking out from one of the folds. She pulled the bundle apart slightly to look inside. A small round face looked up at her from inside the warm safety of the sheets. The baby Searah let out a tiny burbling noise before closing her eyes again and falling back to sleep. Aaril grinned down at her.

 

‘I wish I could sleep like you Searah,’ she looked up at the newly dawning skyline, a mix of reds, oranges and deep blues, ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able sleep ever again.’

 

With one last glance at the signpost, Aaril made up her mind and set off westwards along the road, being careful not to walk to far out into the road, preferring to walk near the trees in case she needed to hide again.

 

Almost half the morning had gone before she came across anyone else on the road. An elderly man with the hard weathered look of a farmer rode past her on a large white working horse pulling a cart behind it. He almost didn’t see her, walking so close as she was to the dark edge of the woods, but the sound of her footsteps drew his attention.

 

‘Heyup!’ he said jovially. ‘This ain’t no road to go walking along, never get nowhere like that.’ She turned to look at him, and on seeing the blood in her hair and the mud on her face his expression quickly changed from amused to one of concern. ‘Oh my, you alright my love?’

 

With one look at the deep concern in his eyes she collapsed onto the roadside, completely overwhelmed with exhaustion. She had started to cry before she could stop herself, hugging the bundle tight to her chest, her spirits flying around her face, trying to hide her from view.

 

‘By me, how long you been out ‘ere? You and the little squeak must be right knackered.’ Aaril wiped some of the tears from her eyes and looked up at the man once again. His wrinkled face looked kindly, still concerned behind a crop of silver hair and a few days worth of beard.

 

‘Oh she’s…’Aaril had to stop herself from giving too much away; the man didn’t need to know that Searah wasn’t her baby. ‘Asleep, silly thing sleeps through anything really.’

 

‘Come on love, up on the cart with ya, my wife would be endin’ me life if she thought I were the sort of bloke to leave you on the roadside. Dare say I’ve gotta bit o’ water round here an’ all.’

 

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

 

‘Bareén City eventually, but I’ll drop off a few places first, the odd pub, tha’ sorta thing. You’re welcome as far as ya wanna go, but I’ll not be leaving you here ta find your body on the way back.’

 

‘Are you sure?’

 

‘Don’t be an a*s and get yourself up on that cart.’ Aaril smiled and pulled herself up from the floor.

 

‘Course I love little babs meself. All mine are all grown an’ I love ‘em all dearly, but it’s not the same. Their worth all the Territories put together aren’t they?’ Aaril threw the heavy leather bag up onto the cart and pulled herself up along side it. Settling down in the corner, she put a finger inside the warm bundle and felt a tiny hand close around it.

 

‘Worth dying for.’ She whispered to herself.

 

*

 

Aaril, Searah and the kind farmer, who Aaril had discovered was called Arfest, travelled together all the way to Bareén City along the winding road. They turned away from the woods only a few miles along from where he had picked Aaril and Searah up. All the time they travelled, Aaril kept looking behind her to check the road was clear. She hardly slept during the cold nights, preferring to take control of the horse and ride on through until dawn. Arfest noticed her odd behaviour and Aaril had seen him shooting strange looks in her direction but never asked any questions he thought she wouldn’t want to answer. Whether this was out of respect or politeness, or just that he was glad of making such good time to the City, Aaril didn’t care but was grateful for his kind manner and the offers of warm food every time they came across a small town or village.

 

Arfest had a wife and two sons back home, a small crop farm in the shadows of the Hevonis Range further to the north. He was travelling to Bareén City to buy new thrashing machines and tools and Bareén was the best place to trade as merchants from all over the Territories went there to sell their goods. Aaril had been there a few times before, but had never stayed too long. The place had a dirty feel of business to it, and she preferred the county or a small town to the large industrial fortress.

 

She and Searah had been cleaned up during the first stop over. They had bought Searah some new clothes, but Aaril had refused to throw away or even clean the dirty old bundle she had been wrapped up in before. They had also bought enough food and milk to keep Searah happy during the journey. At one point, she thought she saw Arfest open his mouth to ask why she wasn’t feeding such a small baby herself, but when Aaril looked round at him properly, his mouth was closed and he was looking out along the road again.

 

Several weeks had past by the time they finally reached the outer walls of Bareén City. Aaril looked up at its dark stone towers, littered with thin windows. Crows and ravens perched upon the battlements, unperturbed by the sward carrying soldiers that walked past them every few minutes. It was told by some of the older inhabitants that the city had once belonged to one of the six power lords of old, one of the descendants of Denthos the destroyer but that all records of such a lineage had been destroyed in the purge some centuries previously when the territories of Bareén and Optanas had split. Aaril liked the story, and had in the past enjoyed listening to it in a dark corner of a musty tavern, but as far she could tell, there was no truth to it.

 

‘Right then,’ said Arfest, stopping the cart just outside the view of the watchful men guarding the main gate into the city. ‘I’ve been ‘ere many a time before and they ain’t that nice abou’ who they let in, so I think it best if we find somewhere to hide that bab o’ yours while we go through.’ Aaril agreed so they set about using a few of the horses leather straps and the bundle of cloth to make a safe sling under the main carriage of the cart.

 

When they were done, Aaril checked once again that the sling was tight, and climbed back up into her corner. As the started up again, Aaril could see the words ‘siste, viator’ carved over the top of the gate and five or six armoured men waiting at its base.

 

‘Hold there!’ called out the biggest as they approached. ‘What's your name and purpose in this great city of old?’

 

‘Me names Arfest,’ he said back, drawing up next to them and handing them a piece of paper, ‘I’ve come from a farm in the foot hills for a few bits an’ bobs.’

 

‘Such as?’ asked a weedy looking man, no older than seventeen, brandishing his sword in the carts direction.

‘Thrashing equipment, new hammers and horse shoers, that sort o’ thing.’

 

‘Do you know your trader?’ asked the first solder.

 

‘Aye, man by the name o’ Garron, over on the west side.’

 

‘That’s my dad that is!’ said the young man enthusiastically. ‘Say hi from Poulo when you get there will you?’ the larger man cuffed him round the head and turned back to Arfest.

 

‘Who’s the girl?’

 

‘S’farm hand, ‘ere to help me with a bit o’ liftin’, I’m not the young man I once was.’

 

‘What's in the bag?’ asked the large soldier, pointing at the brown leather bag Aaril was carrying. She didn’t like the man at all. She could tell that he was the sort of man with no imagination, at least nothing past what he could get in the pub or street corner.

 

‘A few clothes, nothing special.’ She replied.

 

‘Open it, lets have a look at these ‘few clothes.’ Aaril, thinking fast, turned her shoulder towards the man and slowly pushed her top down her arm, showing a small white undershirt.

 

‘This enough of a look for you?’ she said with a smile. The other soldiers started to call and whistle, but the first man didn’t take his eyes off her skin.

 

‘Why this one farmer?’ he asked, directing his question as Arfest.

 

‘Well ya know, what the wife dunno…’ After a few seconds, the soldier turned his head away from Aaril.

 

‘Very well, pass them through.’ The other men pushed open the giant wooden doors and stood aside allowing the cart to go through. Just as they were almost to the other side, the first soldier called out.

 

‘Oi, just a second there!’ Arfest stopped and turned around trembling slightly. ‘Don’t forget to pass on Poulo’s message.’ Arfest grinned and nodded then continued on his way. A little further inside the city walls Arfest called back to Aaril.

 

‘That was right dangerous, what by the Gods did you think ya were playin’ at girl?’

 

‘I knew it would work,’ she said with a grimace, ‘I know his type.’

 

‘Damned lucky ya did n’all, I thought we were a gonna when he asked abou’ that bag o’ yours. What's in there any how?’ the question had slipped out before he could stop it and he knew from Aarils silence he had asked something he shouldn’t have. ‘What will you do now?’ He asked more politely. ‘You’re welcome to stay with me a bit longer, I wouldn’t mind the company on the way back.’

 

‘You’re very kind.’ Replied Aaril, leaning forward and placing a hand on his back, ‘but I have some friends I really must get to and they are a long way in the other direction.’

 

‘What’ll I be telling the guards when I leave without ya?’

 

‘You’ll probably not get the same guards on the way out, but if you do tell them I took some of your money and ran off in the night.’

 

‘You got a good mind on ya lass, that be true. Shame to loose ya company.’

 

‘Thank you so much,’ she said, this time placing both arms around him in a hug, ‘we both owe you our lives, I’ll look you up if I’m ever this way again.’

 

‘Gods be with you girl, and your little’n.’

 

Aaril picked her way off the cart that had been her home for the last few weeks, unfastened Searah from the underside and, with one last wave back the Arfest, turned and walked away, knowing that she would never see him again.

 

Author's Note

First draft of the first chapter, all critisism welcome