The Tome of Law Collection

Chapter 1-4

Gren looked up from his tale. He couldn"t have imagined such different effects. Mavra was sat staring forward, images of the story written plain on her face. Enraptured for having glimpsed the gods, and yet sorrowful for the loss of them. Erilee was leaning against her shoulder asleep, trestles of her hair hanging across her face damp with sweat from the rapidly heating morning. The effect around his wagon was astounding to him though. All was quiet; the other wagons having stopped. Tarim, Zya and the guards had closed to a respectable distance, but one within range of hearing. They all looked at him with the profound respect for such a teller of stories.

“Truly we are blessed, for your calling was definitely not to be a cook. Where did you hear such a story?” Asked Venla.

Gren frowned, trying to remember. “I think it was my mother, a long time ago. She used to gather tales from anyone who would tell them and she would make me learn. I did not mind of course, being young I enjoyed good tale.” Gren sighed. “She did not have much to give me, but she always said if I could pass on knowledge to others then her tales were well learnt. That one always stands out in my mind though, as she said the man who told it to her seemed ancient beyond seasons, with strange markings but I cannot say what as there is a limit to even my memory.”

“Even in that there is something to be learnt,” observed Layric. “Even a wise man can only know so much all of the time. He can never know everything.”

“You always see too much into things my husband,” replied Venla, shaking her head. “Just take the story for what it is – a story – and leave the thinking up to the women.”

“Yes, oh wondrous mistress” Layric mockingly replied with a bow as low as he could muster. “We live but to serve and obey you and you alone.”

Looking up at the sun, which was a pulsating mass of white gold, now that it had risen into the mid-morning sky, Layric stared off down the track they had been following.

“We should get moving again. The villages are not getting any closer with us resting here, and we need to make a decent distance before we stop for the midday meal.” With that Layric returned to his wagon and ushered the draft horse in to a semblance of movement. The caravan slowly started to move again, and Zya remained mounted next to her father.

“I always loved hearing his fables. He tells them so well you could almost believe they were true.” Tarim grunted.

“What"s got into your head father?” Zya asked. Her father was usually open and joyous; in fact he had been all morning.

“It"s just a tale – a very well told tale but a tale nonetheless.” Tarim said this with such vehemence that Zya did not know what to make of it, so she just trotted her horse alongside her father"s, keeping silent while her father sorted out his issues with himself. In truth, although her father"s change of mood had startled her somewhat, she accepted that people had reasons for everything, and worried no more about it.

The morning had developed as Zya had wished. It was a glorious day, the sky bright blue, and the early morning breeze had become a delicious counterpoint to the heat as the day wore on. The caravan made its way slowly down the side of the unnamed river. It was the way of the travellers to follow the route in front of them. There was no rush, and for this Zya was glad. It meant that she could explore the surrounding countryside while the caravan plodded West and North towards the nearest village. The blue miasma on the distant mountains had coalesced into a shimmering haze as the heat built. At times it looked as if they were floating on air, images of the mind"s tricks convincing the eye. Zya wished their brief sojourn in to the mountains could have been longer. The two weeks they had spent in crossing the area surrounding the higher pass, unused by most people, were uneventful. The mountains were peaceful though, and brought a serene kind of peace to Zya and her companions. It felt as if she could almost touch the sky if she tried. Still, it was pleasant enough in the foothills.

Digging her heels in to the flanks of Red, her stallion, she spurred him towards a nearby hill. Jaden followed, eager for a look at the surrounding land. The view was breathtaking. The typical rockiness of foothills contrasted with the subtle creep of the vegetation. Rolling hills covered with grass and shrub dipped down into valleys with low trees. The ground was ill suited for major plant growth, but it did not fail to dazzle the eye. Zya looked Westward, where a deep swath of inky green appeared to cut across the horizon.

“Jaden, do you know what that is, the green on the horizon?” She pointed to where the deep green met the azure sky.

“That, my dears is the Boarwood. Wild boar make the forest their own kingdom. They are shy creatures, and you will rarely see one, but back one into a corner, or come across a male in search of a mate, and they are more than a match for most men.”

“We will pass that way will we not?” Zya asked hesitantly, eyeing the distant green. “I mean I am not afraid of any creature, but I would like to be sure of where I am going.”

“Young Lady, you would do well to be afraid.” The stone-faced Jaden looked straight at her. “Cahal and myself have gone through life afraid. Taking precautions is the best thing you can do. We pride ourselves on being ready for anything; else we would have not lasted long as guardsmen. The only reason I am up here now is because there is no –”

“JADEN!” screamed Zya, clutching at her saddle. Jaden looked down to the caravan, and then spurred his horse into a furious gallop. Zya began to follow then reined her horse in – there was little she could do. Two figures had emerged as if from nowhere and were assaulting the last wagon in the caravan. Jani was struggling with one figure while his wife was screaming at the top of her voice. The other figure was in the process of being pulled off the wagon by Cahal, when Zya glimpsed the flash of sunlight on metal from something held by one of the figures. Without knowing why, she urged her horse into gallop behind the distant Jaden, screaming something unintelligible at the top of her voice. The wind rushed through her hair, sending it streaming out behind her like a dark standard on a flagpole. The freedom she felt and the rush that accompanied the dead run of her horse was in stark contrast for the fear she felt for her companions. As she began to near, Jaden and Cahal had one figure trapped. Fighting with a nasty looking sword, the man could not best the two experienced guards. As the figure lunged at Jaden, Cahal stepped in and neatly clubbed the figure round the back of the head with the hilt of his broadsword, resulting in the man dropping like a stone.

The other figure, more slight, but dressed dark like the first, sprinted away from the caravan straight in Zya"s direction. The two guardsmen made chase, leaving the man to be bound by a still-startled Jani and a clearly shocked Ramaji. However, they could not close the gap on the rapidly growing figure from Zya"s perspective. Zya tried to rein in her horse, but it clearly had the bit between its teeth, and was not prepared to stop its flat run. Even as she approached the figure, she pulled hard on the reins, getting only a minimal response. At some point the hounds had been let out of the lead wagon and were giving chase, barking eagerly as the dogs enjoyed the job for which they were trained so well. With the head start though, the figure had already outdistanced them as it raced toward Zya. The rapidly sprinting dark figure leapt towards her as it neared, and it was only chance that a sliver-like dagger missed her when she tugged again on the reins and the horse reared, knocking the figure to the ground.

Her heart still pounding with the sensation of wind in her hair, Zya looked for anything else unusual, as if this wasn"t the end. It seemed in the distance that she could hear figures shouting, and the barking of a pack of hounds. It was only the contact of her father"s hand upon her own, and the distant impression that he was somehow concerned, that brought her back into focus.

“Zya, what in the realm of the Gods were you doing? You could have been killed – thrown off your horse or worse!” Tarim did not usually show his emotions, but today, Zya had seen him twice lose himself to them.

“I…I do not know what happened. One moment I was panic stricken watching Jaden…is he all right?” Zya looked past her father to where the guards were tying up the unconscious pair.

“I am fine. I just do not like surprises like that,” Jaden replied without looking up.

“Don"t fret girl,” Cahal added, “He will be fine in a day or so. It"s not anything a few good cups of ale or wine can"t sort out.” At this, Jaden grumbled something under his breath, but let the matter lie.

“You were saying?” her father continued.

“Yes… something just clicked inside my head and it suddenly seemed like the best thing to do at the time. I just had to be back near the caravan, whatever the consequences.”

Venla appeared from her wagon, first checking on the still-shaken Ramaji, giving her something in a cup – probably to calm her nerves. She then turned to Zya. “That was brave riding girl, but next time stay on the hill.” As Zya replied with the meekest of “Yes, Mother"s” she could manage, the mistress had already turned to Gren, asking about the possibility of this place and its suitability for a stop and a meal. Gren nodded his agreement, and enlisted the help of Jani whilst a sullen Mavra and Erilee went about chopping various roots.

Zya picketed her horse, and joined her father in rubbing them down and seeing to fodder before taking the buckets down to the nearby river for fresh water. As they neared the river, glistening in the midday sun, a thought occurred to Zya.

“What will become of the two we captured, father? It"s never happened this way before. Cahal alone is usually enough to scare off bandits.”

Her father turned and looked back at the caravan. “I do not know. The travellers refuse to take a person prisoner, but it wouldn"t be prudent to let them go free. At the very least, Venla will insist on caring for their hurts, but even that may be too much. I think the decision will rest with Layric and the guards. They are the ones responsible for our well being.”

As he filled the water buckets Zya glanced at his face. She could read her father pretty well and she knew he did not agree with even that. Whilst not overprotective, Tarim would not stand for anything improper happening to her, and this morning"s events were almost the definition of improper.