Grym Prophet (Song of the Aura, Book Three) (10 page)

Cal chuckled at the joke. “No, stranger. That's all right. Seeing the water-girl safe and... and
free
... it's good enough for me. I ain't stupid.”

Gribly laughed at the repetitive phrase. “No, indeed you aren't. And I suppose we owe you an explanation of the Demon Man, too. You can tell your village later, if you want to help them understand.”

“The Demon Man?” Cal's face grew pale. “You ain't
his
friend too, are you?”

“No, not at all. We're hunting him. He's killed a lot of people outside of your village, Cal... people close to Elia and I, that we're going to avenge when we find him.”

“Oh.” The boy was silent for a minute. “Why do he look like you?”

“I... I don't know. That's something I'm trying to find out. It could me more important than anything else on this quest. I'm not sure.”

“Quest?” Cal said, his eyes popping for the hundredth time. Then he looked solemn. “You're goin' to the
Swaying Willow
, ain't you?”

Gribly started violently. “How did you know that?”

“Everyone on quests goes there, that's why. You strangers ain't the only ones who do that. Villagers do, too, and the
Willow
's always where they go...”

“Well, you're right there. That's just where I'm headed. I'm looking for... well, someone important, who's supposed to be there, or near there.”

Cal nodded sagely, as if he had suspected this all along. The old expression looked humorous on his young face, and Gribly stifled a grin. Suddenly the boy stopped, looking up with an adventurous light in his eyes that the Sand Strider recognized all too well from his own, in times past.

“Take me with you, stranger. I ain't wanting to stay in the South Village anymore, where they're all so stupid. I want to go with you on your quest!”

Splashes from Elia were muted in the background of Gribly's mind as he tried to suppress a sigh.

“I'm sorry, Calloway. I can't do that, much as I'm grateful to you for all you've done. You've saved us, I know... but where we're going, you could get hurt or killed in days. We've almost died so many times on this journey, I sometimes wonder whether I'm really alive after all. And besides, you have a life here. We're just strangers without a family, Elia and I... you don't even know my name.”

“Gribly.”

“Oh, I didn't realize-”

“The water-girl told me. She says it like she loves you, too.”

“I...” Gribly could have hit himself for getting caught off-guard so quickly. The boy had flipped the tables on him in just a few words, and now he was floundering for something intelligent to say. The boy really wasn't stupid, after all.

“I think I understand you, though,” Cal said sadly, hanging his head. “I know what it's like, now. My father, see... he died in the burning, when the Demon Man came. The black horse smashed his head in... right while I was watchin'. I never met my mother.”

The words came rushing out of Gribly's mouth in response before he could stop them. Dropping on one knee, he grasped Cal's shoulders as if he were addressing a fellow man.

“I didn't know, Cal. I'm sorry. But I think I have a better reason for you to stay behind, now.”

“What's that?” The child looked ready to cry.

“You're the only one, or one of the only ones, now, who knows what that pain feels like,” Gribly told him grimly. “But that means you're one of the strongest, now. You've got to stay behind and help the other learn. Lead them, and help them grow stronger. I know you're not stupid, Cal, and I think it's up to you to help the other get as smart as you are now.”

“Cram, my friend... he know it, too. His brother died, and his sister, too. He ain't stupid, neither.”

“Right. Start with Cram. You'll need to become leaders, Cal. Both of you.”

“Why?” asked the boy, his voice quivering with suppressed excitement. Gribly opened his mouth to answer, but Elia's melodious nymph voice interrupted.

“Because more of the Demon Men are coming, Cal. There's trouble in the lands beyond your villages; big trouble that's going to burn the whole world if there aren't strong men and nymphs to resist it. The big kingdoms outside are falling to pieces, letting monsters and sorcerers and all kinds of enemies break free to hurt and kill whoever they wish. Now that the Demon Man has come... and the thief warrior, and both of us... any of those enemies can make it to the Grymclaw. To your South Village, and any other village they choose. They're coming, Cal, and Grib and I can't stop them because we've got to stop the Demon Man and our friend first.”

Cal was awed. The sea nymph girl had come up on the two boys without their hearing, and now stood behind the Sand Strider in her First Form, water still dripping from her hair even though her eternal blue dress seemed perfectly dry.

“You'll have to be the one, Cal,” Gribly said, patting him on the shoulder. “You'll have to prepare everyone for what's coming. It could be in a month, or a year, or ten years... or today. Do you think you're ready? Can you lead them?”

“Yes,” Cal said, a determined, scrunched look on his childish face. “I can do it. Don't worry, I can do it. I ain't stupid, and I never will be.”

“Indeed,” Gribly said, standing.

“But first I'll have to tell you how to get to the
Swaying Willow
Inn, won't I? You'll need to know so you can catch up to the thief and the Demon Man before they cause more trouble.”

“Well, yes, there's that,” Gribly conceded. Elia stepped forward to bend down and hug Cal.

“Thank you, Calloway,” she said, straightening. “We can't ever hope to repay you for all of this. It'll be hard for you if the villagers ever find out that you've aided us.”

“Oh, oh,” Cal stuttered, looking moonstruck. “It's all payment enough,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze and blushing. “Payment enough...”

~

“What a pleasant boy,” Elia said, once they had procured directions from Cal and headed off, following the river, which Cal called the Grymslip, in a northerly direction for where he said the mysterious inn could be found.

“That might be more to do with fancying
you
than listening to
me
,” Gribly joked, and she gave him a glare.

“See if I ever heal the scratches you get from fighting with old men again,” she said defiantly.

“Oh, that was you? I hadn't noticed there was a wound at all, really... I'm just that tough.”

Elia rolled her eyes and kept on walking. After a minute, Gribly broke the silence again, and this time he was serious.

“This is a harsh land. I hope that lad's up to the task. He really could grow up to be their leader someday... if he survives.”

Elia dropped back beside him to talk. “I think you gave him what he needed to hear. You can be a leader yourself, when you're forced, Grib.” Her tone was joking but her eyes were serious. The young prophet sighed.

“I just wish I didn't have to be.”

“You don't really have a choice. No one does, when they're called on to lead... or just to survive.”

“We have that in common, then,” he said, and hugged her close for just a second.

On they walked, until the morning turned to day that turned to evening, and they were swallowed up by the red rays of the failing sun.

Chapter Eight: The Swaying Willow

Two days later, supplies depleted and clothes filthy and tattered, the two Striders finally reached their destination. It had been a grueling but uneventful trip save for the one time a red sunbeam escaping from a cloud overhead nearly set Gribly on fire as he returned from a stealthy trip to the fields of the East Village. He had taken only what was necessary, of course, but it irked him to behave like Lauro had, even if the other scattered hamlets of the Grymclaw reacted in much the same way to travelers as the South Village had.

Then, all in an hour or two on the third day of their trek, the situation improved vastly. Elia spotted the long-lost remnants of the gray road, winding and twisting until it came to run parallel with the Grymslip. A short time more of walking, and the road climbed through a series of bumpy rock-mounds and sudden gulleys that opened up in the land. Towards the end of the day, they came out of the third or fourth of these small canyons onto the edge of an enormous, shallow bowl-shaped depression in the land, and found just where the road had been leading to the entire time.

About a hundred yards away, nestled in the center of the bowl, or perhaps a little farther back, stood an inn unlike any Gribly had ever seen in Ymeer.

It was a conglomeration of different buildings, most made of rough gray stones piled haphazardly together and sealed with a thick, dark mortar. There was a low, round-roofed building that might have been the stable, lumped up next to a series of clumped towers that probably housed guests, which in turn was attached to the main part of the building: a large, thick, square shape with dozens of little windows that glowed with warm yellow light.

There were huge sections of the inn that looked to have fallen apart and been replaced by dark-hued wood. Thatch coated some of the roofs, while tiles formed the makeup of others. There were at least a dozen structures all together, counting the main building and the stables, and some of them looked entirely out of place: a carved stone gargoyle here, a silver-coated archway there, an iron-fenced yard with a vicious-looking gate somewhere else.

Yet somehow the haphazard structure contrived to look inviting... despite itself. And the road led to it as if there were no other logical destination for anyone who might be walking in that direction. As the travelers neared the inn, they could hear the sounds of merriment and laughter inside, with snatches of song and even a few hearty
yo-hos
in the mixture.

Over the door was a large wooden plaque, once colorful but now worn to almost the same color as the wall. On it was a faded green painting of a willow, tilted to one side.

“Well, here we are,” Gribly observed, stopping a bit before the door. It looked more than a bit intimidating, and yet he was undeniably drawn to it.

“Yes, here,” Elia echoed, but she looked no more ready to enter than he.

Then the smells came. It had been so long since Gribly had smelled something other than sea-salt and dust that he almost didn't recognize the sensation. Then the hundreds of tantalizing odors from inside struck his nostrils at once, and his mind was made up.

“Do you
smell
that, Elia?!?” he cried, “They're having a feast in there, or I've never pinched a meal in my life!”

“Pinched?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, but before he had even heard her Gribly was skipping up the steps to the wide front door, pulling on the handle and heaving it open, his exhaustion forgotten.

Elia followed, and neither of them saw the willow-tree painting begin to glow softly with an inner green light, as soon as they had entered.

~

The interior of the
Swaying Willow
was twice as chaotic as the sounds coming from within had suggested. Here, there, and everywhere bustled men, women, and even some children, all of different sizes, shapes, color, and dress. It seemed like any normal inn's common room, with a high place in the center for men to drink at, tables and chairs scattered all around the wide, smoky space, and plenty of brown-clad servants bustling in and out of the ever-milling crowd of patrons with trays and mugs of every imaginable foodstuff.