The Crystal Legacy (Book 2) (3 page)

The trip up to Lake Pundar was otherwise uneventful. They spent much of the travel time planning their way past the ever-watchful Favriana Fortress and onto Lake Pundar.

About midmorning some days later, the party rounded a bend in the river to see the intimidating Favriana Fortress looming above the treetops. The forest greens and autumn colors obscured its massive base, but the keep’s dark-gray, granite battlements and towers’ spires thrust up as if supporting the clouds. The great Nhy, that bisected the Powterosian peninsula, seemed a mere stream beneath the colossal structure.

“That great castilyernov was Neuyokkasin’s northernmost outpost before assimilating Talok-Lemnos. Your grandmother brought them into the kingdom when she married your grandfather,” Tournak said. He watched his stunned companions. “It’s meant to impress, a statement warning all not to challenge this kingdom. The castilyernov guards the Nhy’s source where it flows from Lake Pundar. Do you remember it from your studies?”

“Seeing it loom up in front of you is very different from seeing it as a dot on the court maps,” Saxthor said.

“All trade with the northern states has to pass under the fortress and by the town of Favriana snuggled at its base,” Tournak said. “The flow of agricultural wealth from the northern Vos Plain converges here. The consolidated bulk shipments then sail down the Nhy to Olnak and on to Tixos and the Powterosian Empire. Favriana’s massive fortress proclaims the site’s strategic importance.”

“I thought Olnak’s Castilyernov Fortresska was impressive, but this is just as intimidating,” Bodrin said.

“Look out Saxthor; the boat is drifting back down the river,” Tournak said.

Saxthor strained to steer the bow back upriver, and they sailed on toward Favriana.

“Nothing like a good first impression,” Tournak said. “Trying to avoid Favriana would only draw attention. By law, all traffic passing Favriana must pass through here for customs inspection. We’ll need to land and get supplies there, anyway.”

“We could tell the officials we’re from some obscure district west of Hyemka on our way to Hoya for a breeder bull,” Saxthor said. “With no cargo to tax, they shouldn’t detain us.”

When they tied up at the dock, a city official required they report to the customs house right away. This they did, and after a few short questions about their travel plans and clearance for the boat contents, the officials allowed them to travel within the city. Tournak gave them a quick tour and then selected a quiet inn on the outskirts of town for the night.

“We should avoid the inner city and the fortress,” Tournak said. “Someone from court might recognize us. We’ll remain in the shadows and glean gossip about the state of the kingdom.”

That evening, Saxthor and Bodrin joined Tournak in the inn’s tavern room. Tournak shared ale with a merchant from Girdane, at the headwaters of the Nhy in Graushdem. The tipsy man smacked his mug on the table, sloshing ale as he began his tale.

“Prertsten’s agents are instigating unrest in the dukedoms of Hador and Heggolstockin. I know Dreaddrac’s king is behind Prertsten’s Prince Pindradese. Prertsten wouldn’t start trouble in the neighboring states without Dreaddrac’s approval and backing.”

The man swayed slightly, jerking back upright only to sway again. He glanced around to see who was listening.

“Prertsten has always been trouble,” someone said.

Others nodded.

The tipsy merchant spoke again. “You see, I normally search throughout the north for unusual merchandise for my shop in Girdane. This season, I’m reluctant to travel further than the mountains of southern Heggolstockin. Goods that used to come south and east from Prertsten, Heggolstockin, and Hador didn’t come this year”

“Bad year for everyone,” Bodrin said.

The merchant nodded; others followed.

“Now, I’m forced to travel south in search of goods,” the merchant continued. “What else can I do? Not only have sources dried up, but also I don’t feel secure in shipping goods. The southern towns, which handle the shipping, are having financial troubles too. That much I’ve witnessed for myself.”

The man nodded his head, belched, and passed out on the tabletop, snoring within minutes. Two local farmers were grumbling about the strange creatures sighted on Lake Pundar’s northwest shore below the Pundar Hills. They speculated that unknown beasts from central Sengenwha’s Morass Mesas were coming east to the lake in search of food and water.

A soldier from the fortress above the city slapped his mug down and added his story.

“A patrol of soldiers checking the lake perimeters ran across just such a creature only last week. It’s been the barracks’ talk since. It was hushed up, but we soldiers know it’s true.”

In fact, all the talk in the inn was about the bizarre happenings and the region’s declining fortunes.

The troupe’s sleep was uneasy that night. Tournak woke two hours before dawn and saw a shadow on the room’s balcony. On the second floor, there was no good reason to be there at that hour. Tournak moved to the window and peeked through the curtain’s edge. The shadow was indeed a slight, translucent form, a searching wraith.

“What is it?” Saxthor asked half-awake.

Tournak slipped to the bed cupping his hands over Saxthor’s mouth, then Bodrin’s. He nodded toward the window. After it passed by, Tournak whispered to the boys.

“The wraith’s vaporous form prevents it from doing bodily harm, but it brings death back from the grave.

“Is it looking for us?” Bodrin asked.

Tournak shrugged his shoulders. “We must leave at first light.”

They moved to the shadows in the corner behind the door and waited for dawn. As soon as it was light, they left without eating.

“You two go to the boat and stay there,” Tournak said. “I must buy supplies.

“Supplies now,” Bodrin said.

“Our objective is the Morass Mesas. Desert conditions require much different gear than that used on the river. I know you two wanted to have a better look at the city, but be it’s too dangerous to explore now. I’ll be back before midday and we can sail north onto Lake Pundar. Stay out of trouble.”

Saxthor and Bodrin fiddled on the boat for a few minutes, each of them looking up at the city with increasing frequency.

“We really should explore the harbor this morning,” Saxthor said.

“Pity to waste the opportunity since we’re here,” Bodrin agreed.

In an instant, they’d tied up Delia to guard the boat and were moving with the crowd along the docks.

Artisans fashioned the products for the riverboat traffic. Some made ropes and sails; others dried or preserved foods. Barkers in front of small breweries called for travelers to sample their beers and ale. Potters fashioned great clay storage jars for transporting the region’s agricultural products. Clothing merchants flashed their brilliant textiles beside repair shops where the noise was loud but the workers silent. The city was abuzz with activity that morning. Fragrances from ripe fruits, musty yeast from the breweries and bakeries, frying fish, and other smells mingled among the stalls. Careless in taking it all in, Bodrin bumped into a stranger.

“Excuse me, Sir,” Bodrin said turning to face the middle-aged man.

“You clumsy boy, watch out where you’re going.”

“The incident was nothing, Sir. I said I was sorry. There’s no need to be rude, and I’m not a boy.” Bodrin’s hand clutched the hilt of his sword.

The stranger snarled, “Your father should have taught you to watch where you’re going.”

Bodrin stepped closer.

“We’ve apologized, Sir. We meant no harm,” Saxthor said.

Saxthor tried to pull Bodrin back, but Bodrin jerked his shoulder free. He faced the man, stepping closer. Neither would back down. Before Saxthor could do anything to defuse the situation, the stranger threw a punch, knocking Bodrin down to the boardwalk. Sitting back, Bodrin rubbed his jaw, then jumped up and circled the man with hands rotating, itching for an opening to return the blow.

“No need for violence,” Saxthor said.

Saxthor knew Bodrin to be polite and respectful, not given to violence, but he wouldn’t allow anyone to strike him either. The punch left no retreat. Bodrin was going to get in a few licks, too.
Saxthor stepped out of the way.

Both men circled, facing off, fists jabbing the air. Bodrin threw two quick punches in succession, but the stranger dodged left and right, avoiding both. The aggressor stepped up his bobbing and weaving. Agitated, Bodrin followed the movements faster, then red-faced, Bodrin threw another punch. The stranger again dodged. Bodrin brushed the back of his fist against the right side of his mouth and looked at his hand, no visible blood.

Passers-by gathered around the fight, pointing and whispering.

“So much for being inconspicuous,” Saxthor said.

Almost as the ruckus began, a patrol of soldiers appeared.

“Come with us to the castilyernov,” their corporal ordered. “The matter can be settled there without disturbing the commercial district.” A soldier motioned the spectators along, and the spokesman turned to the crowd. “The trouble’s over; move along please.”

“That man started it,” Saxthor said.

“We’ll settle it at the castilyernov,” the corporal said.

A soldier stepped forward and took the combatant’s knives. Led by the patrol, Bodrin and the stranger, followed by Saxthor, climbed the stone stairs to the guardhouse, Favriana Fortress’ first checkpoint. In the ponderous entrance hall, a frustrated, gray-haired sergeant sat at the desk, fumbling with paperwork.

“Who are you people, and what’s your business in the city?” the sergeant snapped, looking up.

The stranger spoke first. “My name is Hendrel. I came recently to Favriana seeking work. I’ve had no luck finding employment thus far.

“Where you from?”

“I left Hador when unrest put me out of work there.”

“Trouble huh?”

“Not me, I didn’t start anything there.”

“You’ll have to move on. We’ll not have vagrants stirring up trouble here,” the sergeant said. “With less traffic moving fewer goods all along the river, there’s little enough work for our own people. I’ll release you if you promise to leave the city today. If we catch you in another brawl, I’ll throw you in prison. You understand?”

“I understand, Sir.” Hendrel nodded and left the guardhouse.

Saxthor saw he waited around outside, possibly wanting to see what happened to Bodrin.

“And who would you be?” the sergeant asked. He’d stuck his hand in the crumpled papers to prevent losing his place in the confusion.

“Belbik Smock from a village outside of Hyemka,” Bodrin said.

Saxthor was relieved, remembering they’d all agreed not to use their real names in case searchers were about. They knew Memlatec’s warning about remaining undiscovered as long as possible was their best protection.

The sergeant wrote down the name in his log, “What’s your business in the city?”

“We’re farmers from farther south, come to Lake Pundar in search of goods we can ferry down to Olnak. Times are bad. We hoped to make some money to save our farm,” Bodrin said.

“Well, you heard me tell that other fellow, there’s no extra work in this district just now. I’m not angry with you men, but fighting is prohibited in public places. Leave the city within two days. Now be off with you, and don’t let me see you in here again.” The sergeant looked at Bodrin then over at Saxthor as if to record their faces and impress the threat.

“Thank you, Sir,” Bodrin said. He turned to leave before the sergeant could change his mind. A short hulk of a soldier stepped forward and returned Bodrin’s knife. Bodrin nodded thanks and re-sheathed it as Saxthor pulled him toward the door. The sergeant didn’t look up again, but acknowledged their appreciation and his own sympathy for their plight with a simple grunt. Then the two young men were out the door and back on the street counting their blessings.

“We’re late now,” Bodrin said.

“You know Tournak will be waiting for us, Bodrin. He’ll be angry we disobeyed his warning.”

They hurried along the street, careful not to bump into anyone again. When they arrived at the boat, Tournak stood staring, tapping his foot with arms crossed.

“Where’ve you been?” Tournak asked, his tone gruff. “I can’t leave you two for an hour without you getting into trouble.”

The two truants moved toward the boat, heads hanging and silent.

“Ole Tournak will never really be angry with us,” Saxthor said, when Tournak’s head turned. “Look pitiful just the same.”

“We got lost in the city,” Bodrin replied, shuffling toward the boat. They jumped onboard. “We’ll stow the goods for being late.”

That seemed to satisfy Tournak. The younger men began packing away their supplies with Delia wagging her tail, again at Saxthor’s side.

A solid chirp from Twit and his sudden hopping on the cabin roof brought their attention to the dock. The stranger, with whom Bodrin had scuffled, came alongside. Bodrin saw him from the cabin, and came outside to face Hendrel.

“If it’s trouble you want, we’re leaving. We don’t want to end up in the dungeon. If you still want to fight, we’ll meet you across the river.” His chest puffed and his face reddened facing his adversary.