Six Pillar's Oath

Chapter 6 - Tern

Tern pulled at his sleeves and trousers. The clothes Chron had acquired for him were warm but a little too small for Tern’s build. However he did not wish to complain, the old man had been kind. Chron had used a considerable amount of coin to acquire Tern; a horse, clothes, room and food at two inns (so far) and a new pair of leather boots fit for the coming winter. He had bartered for all of it, and was very skilled, but, it was not an inconsiderable amount of money, and Tern did his best to be grateful through his embarrassment. All Tern could do in return it seemed was answer Chron’s questions.

Chron had begun by asking what had happened in Kwepper. When Tern couldn’t answer Chron had shrugged and moved on, like it wasn’t what he was truly interested in. Instead he asked over and over again about the village, it’s people and legends. He would latch on to any small detail Tern could give and took extensive notes on family trees, estimated ages professions and so on. Rumours brought him great delight and he would always return to them when he considered them dismissed or supported by any new piece of information, filling in gaps with his own theories on hidden loves and devotions to duties. Chron had the exuberance of a much younger man once he latched onto a tale. Like a story hungry goblin he hunched over his writing desk swaying with his horse, Archeus’, walk. Chron’s white hair stuck out at odd angles below his knit cap and around his dropping ears, his white stubble was patchy across his chin and often died black by ink smudged across his face, his long gnarled fingers were always coated in the stuff. Despite his small nose and eyes his face was always expressive and his eyes glowed with light as he told a tale. He was most delighted to hear about Tern’s grandfather, somehow he had already known of Erik and his role as unofficial lore keeper.

“It was your grandfather I was seeking in Kwepper. Not many like him left in the world now. A dying art. I thought maybe he would recall some of the lost legends I am attempting to collect. It will be my masterpiece one day – the Forging of Kandrin. The legends of Fayrist’s Riders.” Chron had begun his ramble. “Near gods the Riders are in parts of the world now lad. Some even believe that our current Monarch is their leader reborn. So I seeks to set the record straight.” Chron continued with his theory for quite some time but Tern was lost in his own mind with his grandfather, by the fire.

Eventually Chron broke through, “So what about it Boy, you able to recall any of your grandfather’s tales?” Chron was hopeful but not naïve enough to expect anything, the boy had barely been able to string together enough words to give his name when they’d met two weeks prior, and it was clear he was no wordsmith. He’d had to fill in the gaps from the small titbits of information he’d pried from the young man’s throat. Despite that Tern still opened his mouth to try and pluck a tale from his memory, but Chron was left wondering as no sound came out. “Very well lad, I can see that we will have to travel together a ways still, but the weather’s bout to turn and we won’t make Hoppsely by nightfall without riding hard in rain. What do you say we make camp by those trees?” Chron clicked his tongue at Archeus closing the lid on his writing desk. It impressed Tern how Chron could command his horse with no hands and some simple clicks and whistles, Tern could barely control the ratty old nag they had picked up for him from a farmer.

By the time Tern had managed to get the nag to the tree Chron had manged to creakily dismount and was chatting away to Archeus as he stroked his nose and fed him an apple. “You’re doing a good job old friend. I promise we’ll find somewhere warm to settle you down for over winter, maybe Hopsley would be good. Wildwood Ale and old Simeon’s stories, you always liked those. Now he’s a legend keeper too isn’t he. A good friend, but probably not long for the world either, we should write them down this time every golden word he speaks. Remember he always snuck you carrots when I wasn’t looking, come spring you were big as a cow!” Chron laughed and despite the age in his voice his laugh sang clear and youthful. Tern began setting about the area trying to find dry wood. This was clearly a popular spot for travellers to camp for the night. A fire pit of stone was left beneath the tree, and some marks Tern did not know had been carved into the trunk and filled with chalk. Chron rand his fingers over them muttering to himself.

“What do they mean, are they magic?” Tern asked as he began striking flint at the kindling.

“These, these are old markings lad, but not ancient enough to be magic.” Chron chuckled, “See this diamond with the star in here. That means it’s a free camp, for anyone to use. And the three lines vertical big to small that means to beware bandits, though I’m not sure we have much worth taking. The cross means that there is a charity cache normally meant to help those on the road like yourself – down on their luck. Many believe it brings the favour of the god’s and saints to give to them, and if you find one empty and you leave nothing then you will be cursed. You know like the saying; never leave an empty cache empty.” Chron began searching around for the box, kicking dirty and fallen leaves around the stones and logs left as seats. “Aha!” he shouted as he found a frayed piece of rope sticking out from underneath a rock. “Here, you shift this rock lad, I’ll see to the fire.” Chron took the flint from Tern’s hand and set about it, within seconds the fire was lit, Tern looked a little sheepish at that but Chron smiled. “It’s a little different to a forge don’t fret.” Chron reassured him nodding back to the rock “Well, see if we’ve had some luck then.”

Tern planted his feet and found a good position before gripping the rock hard and lifting with all his might. As he put the full force of his strength behind it the rock flipped up into the air, hit a tree branch and then landed a good ten feet away. The lack of actual weight to the rock caught Tern of guard and he threw himself backwards with nearly as much force. Tern landed squarely on his arse, in the pile of leaves Chron had kicked into place. While Tern collected himself Chron burst out laughing. The sound of his belly laugh echoed between the trees and hills.

“Oh you bring me great joy young Tern, I couldn’t resist.” Chron wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist. Rest assured you aren’t the first young traveller to be caught out by that one. Just be grateful it was just leaves and not horse shit.” Chron slapped his knees and walked over to pick up the hollow shell of the rock. “Plaster and a good paint, a smugglers trick, good one to remember too. Well have a look for your spoils then.”

Tern picked himself up and dusted himself off, he wanted to look angry at the old man but he had to admit it was quite and innocent prank, funny too, he allowed a smile to creep onto his face as he looked at where the rock had once stood. In it’s place was a sack but it did not appear to have much in it. He picked it up and reached inside, the only thing he felt was a smooth cold stone he pulled it out. It was purple, polished smooth and it had a rune carved into it. “Huh, it’s pretty I guess.” Tern said turning it over in his hands. Chron started forward and then stopped.

“Ahh must be dormant. Don’t you know not to pick up strange stones without checking lad?”

“What? It’s just a rock.” Tern began before he thought back to that strange day with his grandfather’s forge. “What do you mean picking up strange stones?”

“Rune stones, glow stones, like the nursery rhyme?” Chron heaved a deep sigh and then sang to a simple skipping tune,

“Pick up stick and pick up bone

Kick the leaves and dig the land

But when you see the violet stone

Touch it not with ungloved hand

Runes of fire and runes of ice

Runes of dark and runes of light

Runes of health and runes of vice

This is how the fey folk fight.

Surely you heard that as a boy?” Chron looked infuriated as he sat down across from Tern keeping his eyes always on the shining stone in his hand.

Tern tried to think back to his childhood when he would have watched the girls skipping while his father lectured him on tool care. “Maybe the second part. Are you telling me everyone knows about these things? What do they do?”

“Well maybe not as many as used to. I suppose most have been collected by Arrkintorr now, locked away to be studied. But yes they can be found anywhere, old stones which hold magical.. energy… I suppose.” Chron began to sound unsure. “Some have some runes carved to channel the power. If you aren’t careful you can set off an explosion, turn yourself to ice, blind yourself with light.” He let out a snort, almost like a horse, in the way older men do. “I did wonder if that is what happened in Kwepper, but then how did you survive?” Chron asked this last question almost to the trees rather than Tern, knowing now that the boy either did not know or would not tell him.

“If that is what happened at least it would be an answer. I could stop it ever happening again.” Tern wished out loud, rubbing his thumb along the lines of the carved rune over and over again. “what about this one then, do you know what it does?” Tern reached across the fire to hand the stone to Chron. The orange glow of the fire caught imperfections and the carving like the stone had captured molten rock within, making Chron retreat into his cloak.

“I cannot read runes lad, such an education was beyond my reach.” Chron put up his hands warding the rock away. “You keep hold of it, carefully, maybe we will come across a travelling rune-smith who can tell you.”

“That’ll be the day. They all stay near the castles and the capital. We never got a rune-smith in Kwepper.” Tern sulked.

“Well I guess we’re capital bound then boy. Need to find you somewhere to apprentice, there is as good as any.” Chron cheerfully changed the subject, as he began pulling some food from his pack. “But first a humble dinner, because tomorrow we dine in that finest of establishments The Wild Wood Inn.”