Esra (6 page)

       “A few days after King Jythan’ s death, Rїvan called fer his brother to dine in mourning at his estate in South Herbre, where he planned to have the rightful heir to the throne assassinated.  But Haylore had many that were loyal to him, good men who sensed the brother’s malevolence, and they convinced him to send a decoy instead.  A gifted woman sorcerer named Yuri was called upon to ensure that Rїvan would not recognize that the man sent in the eldest son’s clothes was not actually the future King.

       “When the decoy returned dead, Haylore knew the truth of what Rїvan had planned fer him.  He beat his chest in grief, fer now he had lost a good father and a wicked brother in the same fortnight.

       “Now Haylore had the mightier army and the people’s good grace, and Rїvan knew this.  As a last gesture of good faith, Haylore sent a messenger to implore his younger brother forfeit, in exchange fer forgiveness and a life of solitude in banishment to The Frost Grounds, a cold, desolate place in the far western Kingdom.  He sincerely hoped that Rїvan would accept his offer, fer he had no desire to wage war in the first year of his reign, especially with one of his own bloodline.  And above all, Haylore was a peaceful man, as were all the kings he could remember that came before him.  He possessed none of the selfishness or hatred that his brother exuded.

       “But Rїvan had used his long absence in the country to make friends with those far and wide who were just like him; hungry fer power.  They devised a plan to kidnap the wives and children of those men loyal to King Haylore while their fathers were at court, and brought the captives to his estate.  Rїvan knew that his brother-King would now gather an army in an attempt to rescue the captives.  But he had also anticipated, long before the kidnapping of the women and children, the place where the battalions would gather, south of the castle and next to the river in Fayner’s Field.  He ordered his sorcerers to poison the Naduri River where it would border the encampment.  I am not sure if ye realize it, but the fork in the southern Naduri River was not always there.  Haylore’s sorcerers, led by the enchantress Yuri, worked some of the most powerful magick in the history of our Kingdom trying to redirect the poison away from the soldiers and towns that lined the river banks.  And so the western fork of the river was formed.  It did not happen quickly enough though, and within the first night most of the King’s army had died wretched, vomiting deaths. The poison continued its path down the river, killing many more innocents, including Plants, Humans, Animals, and even some of Rїvan’s own allies.  But in his ruthlessness, this caused him no great discomfort, as it was to be expected.  The weak will have to die in order fer those with true power to come to fruition.

       “To show his enemy his true supremacy, and to stay those that would rise against him in retaliation, Rїvan ordered his most favored guards, a secret group of skilled sorcerers and soldiers referred to as the Elites, to kill all of the kidnapped women and children as they slept.  With no army left to fight, and no families left to barter fer, the people of LeVara fearfully acquiesced to their new ruler, and secretly hoped that King Haylore had not been slain.

       “Unfortunately, the King had not been slain by the poison directly, but he had spent so much time by the Naduri River trying to save his men and tending to the sick that he fell ill with The Cough and perished within a week.  Rїvan decided to build his new castle in The Frost Grounds as a mockery of his brother’s attempt to banish him there.  There was no army to oppose the younger son and no other heir to claim the throne, so Rїvan took control.  By the time a generation had passed most people had learned never to speak of this abomination, and the story of King Haylore’s murder was silenced at last.  Even our current King Keridon, being a fair but indifferent sovereign, does not sense the trouble that now brews in his Kingdom.  Now tell me, what do ye think of all this?  Ye have permission to speak.”

       At this interval, Cane paused, staring intently at Esra.  She sat pensively for a moment, absorbing the words of this chronicle.  It seemed a great feat that King Rїvan had achieved such treachery and covered it all so swiftly and with such finality that no whispers of the truth remained.  But she trusted her teacher, and knew that although he was eccentric at times, dishonest he was not.  There was also a twinge of anger in her, to be so deceived by a history she had trusted.  The books she had read, the stories she’d been told, now she wondered how much of it was real, how all the people of LeVara had been living a lie.  And it was true that King Keridon was a somewhat dimwitted and lazy ruler, though not a cruel one.  She wasn’t sure what trouble Cane spoke of, but it seemed likely that the King would dismiss any threat against him as nonsense, simply because he was foolish and ignorant.  He was a great enthusiast of hunting parties and women, not the welfare of his people. And he certainly had no interest in something as unattractive and hardworking as training an army.  Although he did not actively harm his people, his inactivity had the potential to be just as destructive.  This Rїvan, however, was a despicable character.

       She chose her next words carefully. “Then King Rїvan has achieved a level of deceit and malice unmatched by anything I’ve thus known.  Forgive me, but I am…resentful that someone could get away with such treachery.”

       “Esra,” he said quietly, “I am
very
glad to hear ye feel that way.”

       Now it was Esra’s turn to be surprised.  “Of course I would.  What else would ye expect of me?”

       She hastily rubbed where the Witch Hazel rash was creeping towards her elbows on both arms.  Cane shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat.  He had a habit of clearing his throat when he was struggling with whether to reveal more information to her or not.  Meshok, who had been sleeping obliviously throughout most of the lesson, stretched out her back legs and perked up her ears, matching Esra’s anticipation.

       “Not everyone takes such news with …” he paused, squinting in an attempt to find the right word, “honor.”

       He could see the confusion in her eyes.  “Do ye remember that I once had an apprentice before ye, a young man?”

       “Aye, but ye’ve never said much about him.  He moved away very suddenly.  I figured it was because he grew older and decided to pursue something other than knowledge, or that ye were unsuccessful in his training.  Not that it was yer fault,” she added quickly.

       “Actually, ye are right in both senses,” he admitted, reaching under his chair for the box with his pipe and leaf.  He set about the meticulous task of filling the chamber, pinching a few leaves and packing them carefully into the pipe, ignoring his student’s impatience. 

Esra was beginning to worry that her face would soon carry a permanent look of consternation from this man.  “As in…?”

       “Well, he decided to pursue things other than knowledge,
and
I was utterly and shamefully unsuccessful as his teacher.”  Esra tried to hide the surprise that alit on her face at his admittance of failure.  Although he jumped around through his topics and could be enigmatic, Cane was a very capable teacher.

He lit the chamber of his pipe, causing Meshok to shift closer to Cane’s chair.  The dog had proven to be a pipe smoking enthusiast who loved the smell of burning leaf.  Cane took the opportunity to rub her briskly behind the ears before he continued.

       “His name is Tallen, and ye will probably do well to remember it.” Esra saw something flash briefly in his eyes, perhaps disdain, or even hatred.  Then she recognized it.  Guilt.

       “Many years ago, I trained and informed the most dangerous man in the Kingdom.  The new leader of the Elites, the descendent of Rїvan, and the most treacherous man alive.  Rїvan may have long been dead, but his malice survives on in Tallen, I am disgusted to say.”

       “But how can this be?” Esra cried. “I have never heard of these “Elites” nor of anyone named Tallen.  How bad could he honestly be if no one even knows he exists?”

       “Because,” Cane leaned forward in his chair, “a struggle that most people are ignorant of has been going on fer centuries.  The Keepers and the Elites have been at battle since the age of Rїvan.  This war has been waged mostly in locations uninhabited by common folk and in ways unnoticed by them.  Fer years the scales have been tipped this way and that.  But now with Tallen, the descendant of Rїvan and the most formidable enemy the Keepers have faced since Rїvan himself, I fear it will not stay a battle unseen.  We have been able to keep most people uninvolved until this time…”

       “What do ye mean
we
?” Esra exclaimed.  The itching on her forearms was growing more intense, they were starting to burn.

       Cane stood up, pipe in one hand, and went to the window.  He peered out casually as he lowered the curtain with his free hand.  Esra’s head was spinning, there were thoughts, half-thoughts, racing back and forth.  She felt that there was no room for more, that these questions were already crashing into one another.

       “Nevermind, we will talk about the rest of that another day.  Fer now, our instruction will focus on learning yer true history.  Ye must know where ye come from in order to decide where ye will go.  We will resume the prior rule about not speaking during lessons.”  He reached for a large volume that was hidden beneath his chair and handed it to her. “I expect ye to read this in a week so that we can begin discussions.”

       “What do ye mean by ‘we’.  What kind of battle?  Is my family in some kind of trouble?”  He could be so cryptic and mysterious, sometimes it drove Esra mad.  Looking at his stone face, she sighed heavily and lowered the heavy book to her lap.  With her left hand she absentmindedly traced the white lines on Meshok’s head that curled behind her ears and down her snout.  It was something she often did when she felt discouraged and her friend nearby for comfort.  Why was he being so secretive? 

       “Alright,” she agreed, giving in for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “Let’s continue.”

V

       After her stressful new lesson, Esra decided to stop by the general store to tease Mr. Sturik about the bread beater.  She was greeted by the familiar chime of the large brass bell as she swung open the door to the shop.  Mrs. Lara Sturik, who was sweeping with small, jolted motions behind the counter, looked up and smiled genuinely when she saw Esra standing there.

       “Esra!” She beamed. “What a pleasant surprise!”

       Although it was commonplace for Esra to stop by the store once or twice a week, she was always greeted like a long-lost sister.  Lara was in her late thirties, with curly dark hair and a short, slightly plump figure. Everything about her was soft, including the curves of her face and body, the waves of her hair, and especially her lulling voice that seemed to put everyone under a relaxing trance.

       The shop owner’s wife had moved a great distance from her family in the western Kingdom to put down roots in Sorley, but she quickly made friends with the more honorable townsfolk.  The dishonorable would have loved to be friends with Mrs. Sturik as well, with the general store being a center of all the comings and goings of town, but seeing as she permitted no gossip within earshot, it was an empty hope.  As such, most people had come to trust her with a fervor that was not misplaced.  No secret would go beyond her lips to anyone else, including her own husband.  She guarded people and the talk of their lives like a vulnerable child.  Even greater than this seemed to be the sense of comfort that one came into when in her presence.  It was strange, but being in a room with her was like the moment when you were in your bed and just about to fall asleep; snug and safe.  The combination of her aura of peace and reputation for discretion ensured that one could come to her for either a friendly chat or advice on a very private matter.

       Mr. Sturik walked in from the back stock room while Lara stopped to lean on her broom. He was the exact opposite of his wife, energetic and as tall and angular as she was soft and rounded, with a great swirl of blond hair in the middle of his head.  Lara glanced over her shoulder at her husband and asked Esra teasingly, “So what brings you here?  Have you demand for more bread beaters? Perhaps as gifts?”

       Mr. Sturik chuckled beside her.  They enjoyed the game Esra’s grandfather played probably just as much as he did.  Mr. Sturik searched and plotted for these odd items like the fate of his store depended on it.  Some poor trinket peddler was making out like a King with her grandfather’s strange purchases.

       “Aye, tis but a shame,” he shook his head with a grin.  “I sold the last twenty off this mornin’.  Demand is very high and the bread beater is quite a nice seller after all.”

       Lara giggled and swatted him on the shoulder.  “Oh, you are a silly old man.  Come Esra, sit and have some tea with us,” she beckoned to a nearby stool.

       “I’d be happy fer some of yer special Mitroot tea.”

       “I think that’s a wonderful idea.  Besides, it’s about time my husband let me have a break,” she winked at Esra as she walked over to one of the long wooden shelves lining the store and scanned the various bottles and parcels.  She selected a small wrapped package from a middle shelf and made her way to the black stove behind the counter.

       “How are yer studies going?” Mr. Sturik asked, taking a seat across from her at the counter.  The store owners were one of the few people who knew the truth about Esra’s trips to Cane.  Although Esra had never divulged this information personally, her grandparents must have, because they’d known for as long as she could remember.

       “Oh, quite well,” she answered.  “Ye know Cane.  Just finished hopping about with me through some Elvish history.”

       “Hopping,” Lara mused as she poured the steaming Water into small wooden cups.  “That is a funny thing to picture Cane doing.”