The Orb of Wrath (The Merchant's Destiny Book 1) (8 page)

*******

It was already late, and Ronu hadn't noticed. She had been entertained in the upper quarter, where artists exhibited their works in the street. There you could find a bit of everything: paintings, sculptures, antiques, jugglers, clowns and theatrical street performances. There was a continuous bustle of people in a lively and bohemian atmosphere. It was the liveliest area of the city and, for her, a shelter. Unfortunately, the flea market on the street began late in the afternoon and, whenever she visited, she got home later than usual. She preferred not to be late, especially, to not worry her mother. Although she had never understood what she had to worry about. In Bergen nothing ever happened.

She had bought a couple of small chandeliers for her mother. They were old and very beautiful, and would look good in the dining room. In addition, they had cost just a couple of gold coins. She had to bargain and use all her charm on the seller. But undoubtedly, she had gotten a great deal. Her mother would be pleased. She expected this would compensate her mother's concern for her tardiness.

After leaving the high district, she decided to cross the center through the park. It was a little darker, but it was a great shortcut. In addition, it seemed to be a very romantic walk, among the namal and ronto trees in the moonlight; they were her favorite trees. She walked happily through the Central Avenue of the Park. It was a beautiful night, after a lovely day. It had cooled a little after sunset, but the temperature was still very nice.

She had hardly seen anyone since she had entered the park. Years ago, some constables guarded there at night and at other sites around the city center. But they had long since reduced the abundance of patrols to cut costs. The town was very quiet and there was hardly any crime.

She kept walking. She only heard a few sounds: her footsteps on the path, the sounds in the park's garden (a cricket, an owl or a branch swaying in the wind) and her own breathing. She was nearing the end of the avenue. After arriving at the goldfish pond, she turned to the left, to go to the Gate of the Ronto.

In that area of the park, the trails they were much narrower. The forest was much lusher there, and seemed to barge menacingly over the road, leaving little space for pedestrians, especially on a busy day.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, she fell forward. She could barely avoid hurting herself or damaging the chandeliers, after breaking the fall with the palm of her left hand. She got up slowly, a bit dazed, as she checked her dress. Fortunately, she had not torn it and didn't stain it. She felt a bit stupid. With the darkness, she had not noticed that the root of a tree had grown deep into the path. She had stumbled and had fallen like a child.

She resumed her way towards the gate. She could already make it out in the background. She had a few steps to go. It seemed that the temperature had dropped another couple of degrees; her thin jacket didn't cover her much, but it really wasn't that cold. She continued walking while trying to pay attention to where she stepped to avoid tripping again.  Finally, she reached the gate and left the park.

She was pretty close to her home, but still had to walk through the neighborhood. She crossed King's Avenue, which ran across the park, and had to stop because a horse-drawn carriage was passing at a certain speed. It was completely black and very elegant. Something about it caught her attention, but she didn't know what. After crossing the avenue, she entered through one of the main roads that would take her close to home. There were some people on the street, but very few. It was already quite late. After walking a dozen blocks, she finally reached a junction where she took the left path.

Her house was only a hundred steps away. She walked two blocks and took the last turn to the right into her street. Her mother would surely be waiting for her.

*******

The vampire was waiting inside the ledge of a portal in the building next door. She could smell his prey in the air. She was just around the corner, he could feel her. He let the girl pass long and immediately jumped into the street and called her.

“Miss, you dropped this,” he said, extending his arm with a flower in his hand.

“That is not mine,” the girl said.

She was already sentenced. The vampire took the opportunity to look her straight in the eye. The girl had considerable strength and great will power, but the power of the vampire in such a short distance was uncontrollable for almost any mortal. The girl eventually subdued after a while and began to follow the vampire after he made a gesture. There was a very elegant horse-drawn carriage waiting at the corner. They went inside. Unlike the usual, this car had no windows.

CHAPTER 8: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Mithir and Erion left before dawn. They were already out of town before the sun started to rise on the horizon. They bought some supplies and decided they would eat breakfast on the way to save time. They had a long journey ahead that day. When they had been riding for an hour, and after dawn, they left the road.

“Let's stop briefly for breakfast,” Erion proposed.

“After the rocks, it can be a good place,” Mithir pointed.

“All right. I'll make the fire,” Erion said.

“And I'll grab the food: sausage with cornbread,” the magician added.

After eating, they picked everything up and prepared to resume their journey. It was then when they saw four wolves that had approached silently behind the rocks. The animals had a thin black coat. Its developed tense muscles let them perceive the almost complete absence of fat. The wolves showed their huge, furious, salivating tusks. The herd had probably detected their tracks with their tuned sense of smell. There was no time to lose. They had to react quickly.

Erion ran to the saddle and grabbed his hand crossbow, who he had always prepared. He loaded it and shot one of the wolves. The arrow flew swiftly toward its goal and wounded one of them in a foreleg. Erion had aimed at its head, but the animal moved to start the race towards them. He was lucky to have reached the target, but the wolf could still be dangerous; at least it would be slower and easier to control.

The other three beasts took charge against them, while the wounded wolf followed them more slowly. Mithir, who sat on his horse when the wolves appeared, pulled a small bag from his pocket. He took powder and some seeds from it. After making a few quick gestures and babbling murmurs, his hands began to glow with a silvery tone, and a moment later four small orange spheres shot out at high speed. They described strange curved paths, but they all reached their target. Three of them hit the first, the fastest, and shot him dead. The last hit the wolf that followed, wounding him in the side, but not killing it.

Erion put another arrow in his crossbow, cocking it with a quick and trained gesture. He shot the second wolf. A part of its coat had been burned from the impact of Mithir's magical projectiles, and the animal was roaring angrily when the arrow pierced its skull, next to one of its ears. It dropped dead instantly. And then there were two.

The third came to them in a flash, with no time for further reaction. It jumped on Erion, trying to dig its fangs into his jugular. Erion slightly moved his head back, as he wrestled with him. The beast was much stronger; he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. Behind, Mithir dismounted and took his wooden quarterstaff. He approached the wolf from behind and, taking advantage of Erion's struggle with it, hit it as hard as he could in its head. The animal did not suffer great damage but remained quite dazed and released its prey. Without a second's hesitation, Erion seized the moment, drew his short sword and struck it with a quick and violent movement at the wolf's neck, which fell dead moments later.

Erion then felt a sharp pain in his left leg. The last beast, which was also wounded in the leg, had finally reached them and had taken him by surprise. The wolf would not let go of the leg and could hear how it tore his muscles. He thought he was going to lose consciousness because of the pain. In an effort of self-control, he moved his sword to his left hand, because he could not reach the animal that was behind him with his right hand, and stabbed it in neck, killing it instantly.

*******

Erion woke up with excruciating pain. He turned to see the status of his leg. It was completely bandaged below the knee. Mithir was at his side. It was obvious he had done everything he could to heal the wound.

Mithir reached for something in his backpack. It was a small bottle. He uncorked it and held it.

“You must drink this. It will help you heal,” he affirmed seriously.

“I hope it's not our last healing potion,” Erion said.

“Shut up and drink!” Mithir replied impatiently, as he approached the bottle to his lips.

Healing potions were expensive, but relatively easy to get. Almost every town had a healer who dealt with them.

“What has happened? How long have I been asleep?” Erion asked.

“You lost consciousness. Fortunately, the fight was over. You slept for about an hour. Just enough time to cure your wounds. Do you think you can ride?”

“Let me try.”

“Yes, but you must wait a while for the potion to take effect. That will help so the wound doesn't open again.”

A while later, Erion felt better. His leg still hurt a lot, but he was able to move. He thought he could even walk with a cane, though perhaps not for long. Fortunately they had horses. He climbed onto his and tried to ride across the meadow. He could see that he didn't feel a lot of discomfort with the horse's movement. Mithir motioned for them to continue their journey.

As he rode with his brother, Erion pondered what happened. The world of Oris was a dangerous place. Especially as you stepped out of the cities. In addition, a small group or a solo traveler were running far greater risks, because there were far fewer dangers which you could take defense from. It was, therefore, even more important to be cautious.

Mithir and Erion had traveled much of the kingdom of Bor, since leaving the orphanage about six years ago. That was the year that Erion turned twenty, and could do legally by Mithir. Otherwise they would have had to wait for Mithir to turn eighteen, the age when the orphans left the Lefport orphanage. Erion should have left it at that age, but he managed to convince the Mother Superior to let him stay as a worker for two years, until Mithir was old enough. He did everything: cleaned floors and toilets, took care of farm animals or worked in the kitchen. But this allowed him to continue taking care of his brother and at the same time, earn a small amount of money (very small), while making big plans of everything they would do once they left the orphanage.

He could not say that the orphanage had been a bad experience. They were welcomed very small, when otherwise they would not have survived. They had been fed every day, although the food was not much; and most importantly, they got an education, a very basic one, though. Although the sisters and the workers had been severe and disciplined, they always received a reasonably fair treatment. Another thing was the treatment of the other children at the orphanage; some were real thugs. As for the sisters, if they had ever received any kind of punishment, usually it had been deserved.

Erion then recalled how on one occasion Mithir and he had gotten a little mouse in the bag of the helping mother. She worked in the small infirmary at the orphanage and worked in the gardens, as well. She cultivated different types of medicinal herbs, then collected and kept them carefully. She was stiff as a stick, but she was not a bad person. Now that he remembered the episode, he couldn't understand why they had chosen her for the mouse prank, having other more deserving to be their "victims". 

When the helping mother picked her bag to return to the main building of the orphanage, she did not perceive the friend who was inside it. But once she got to the infirmary and opened the bag to take the herbs that she collected, and... Well, the cry was heard in the surrounding buildings. Erion and Mithir believed for a moment that they could get away with it, and it was possible that a mouse had slipped naturally into the bag while in the field. But nothing escaped Mother Superior. That bitch was damn smart. She always ended up finding out what had really happened. He did not understand how; but she was extremely difficult to trick; simply trying it was a big challenge. In recent years in the orphanage school tricking her was proposed several times. Not to make any mischief, but only to try to overcome the challenge. In practice it turned out to be a great training; and a varied one since, different skills had to be used: hiding, disguising, changing the voice, lying, simulating a problem or physical or mental harm, and so on.

So, the orphanage was even funny at times; and certainly very instructive. The hardest part of the orphanage was what wasn't in it. The difficulty for a child to have to grow and mature without the love of parents. But this was, in fact, what the orphans didn't talk much about. It was easier to speak well, or poorly, of the educators, Mother Superior or the food. Anything but face the bitter reality that they were alone in the world. Eventually, all orphans ended up having to deal with that reality. But usually this did not happen until the date of leaving the orphanage approached.

Erion felt the pain in his leg had referred considerably. He could probably walk almost normally at dinnertime. Although it would have been preferable to rest for a couple of days for him to fully heal.

The almost total absence of pain allowed him to appreciate the scenery around him for the first time since the day before. Bor was a beautiful kingdom, as far as the landscape was concerned. Green grass fields stretched across most of the Kingdom. The forests, of various extensions were common in all the counties. There were many rivers and lakes, with clear and cool waters. The winters could be cold but, usually, the temperatures were reasonable most of the year.

Erion remembered the spring, from a few months ago. Maybe it was the most beautiful season in the landscapes of Bor. It was common that, after the rains early in the season, colorful flowers bloomed across the fields of the Kingdom. Life woke up after the winter hibernation, and you could see all kinds of animals in the different territories. The hunt was good at this time of year.

A portion of those colors had faded or had switched to darker tones with the arrival of autumn. But you could still see abundant flowers in many fields. And the green of the grass was still alive, even though during that season it didn't rain much. It had started late and it was cold. The temperature was not pleasant, but bearable.

The afternoon passed quietly, without incident. Almost without realizing it, they were nearing the end of their journey.

“I think this is the crossroads that the instructions indicated,” Erion said.

“I remember being here on other occasions, but always heading north or south to Deepcliff,” Mithir added.

This time they made their way to the west. By late afternoon they had reached the forest of their destination. Indeed, it was the only forest in the area and it did not seem very large. They entered it at nightfall, riding slowly, while paying much attention and looking for the camp. It took a while to find it, more than he would have liked, his leg was in need of rest. Finally, after a little less than an hour wandering through the woods, they saw a clearing below where someone had lit a fire, and tents for the night, horses and some ammunition were visible. They walked into the clearing.

*******

Thost and his companions had made a fire at nightfall at the rendezvous. Usually the fire drove away the wild animals, and gave them a good view of the entire clearing. They also used it to roast dinner: a pair of rabbits Samar had hunted, as usual.

Thost looked around. His son Ithelas and Samar were sitting around the fire. The camp consisted of four tents of various sizes, a few piles of wood already cut and prepared, a place for cutting logs, a small water hole, and little else. When they arrived, they inspected it thoroughly, but found virtually nothing beyond the described; neither valuable, nor worthless.

A hawk descended at high speed on the clearing and, after hovering around, landed on his outstretched fist. He wore a leather glove on his left hand, which prevented the claws of the animal to harm him. It was Houraz, his favorite falcon. And at that moment, the only one. He remembered the times in his castle in Borydos where his lackeys helped him keep a dozen falconry birds of all kinds. He loved to spend evenings with the animals, training them and teaching them tricks, admiring their flight and their ability.

He had a great ability to understand birds. The key was to know when you had to give them room. Birds are animals who appreciate their freedom, above all. He could have given the hawk the remains of the rabbits for dinner. Houraz liked to peck around the bones to precisely remove small pieces of meat. However, when the right time came, just before sunset, he removed the cap that limited the hawk's vision and released it, pushing it skyward. The animal would seek its dinner on its own. And in the process would enjoy the flight and freedom. But a few hours later, he would return with his master; the man who had raised him with love and affection since he was a little more than a chick.