Severed Destinies (2 page)

Suddenly, the hatch opened before him, startling him somewhat, and a tall cleric emerged from the steps below.

“
I thought I might find you up here,” he said quietly, but with a disapproving stare at the young acolyte. “Shirking your responsibilities again.”

“
No, I came up here to think,” stated the acolyte, looking hurt. “I didn’t realise what the time was.”

“
A likely story. Ranesch has rung the bell twice.”

“
Twice? Tell me, Forven, are the rumours true about Ranesch and that bell?”

“
Rumours?” frowned Forven, stretching in the cold morning air.

“
Yes. Is it true that, if he rings it twice and you don’t appear, he refuses to ring it a third time?”

Forven smirked. He could not help but like the young man. “It’s true.”

“
Good, I might be left in peace now then.”

Forven laughed and quietly closed the hatch. “You certainly like to play with fire, my boy.”

“
Old Ranesch is harmless.”

“
Let me tell you,” began Forven. “Ranesch was a brute of a man in his younger days. I used to fear his wrath when I was an acolyte.”

“
He taught you?”

“
Yes. Ranesch is one of the most dedicated clerics in the Rotian Kingdom and he is a proud man. However, he is as sour now as he ever was back when I was a lad.”

The acolyte smiled. “He is almost a part of the temple itself. I suppose that it would be strange not having him wandering the halls or grumbling about the smallest detail.”

“
That it would,” nodded Forven.

There was a silence as the two peered off towards the western horizon. The only noise to be heard was the faint banging of metal upon metal from the city below. It seemed that one of the blacksmiths had begun his work early.

“
Forven, have you travelled much?”

Forven looked at the young man and studied his face carefully. He had come to know when the acolyte was being serious or not by his eyes. There was a mischievous glint when he had something amusing on his mind, but sometimes there was such wisdom there too. “I have been here and there.”

“
Where have you been? I’m curious.”

Forven thought for a moment. “I travelled with Ranesch once along the coast and down to the capital. We were studying Ardan’s popularity amongst the people of the kingdom and I remember walking into Vylandor one day. It was a magnificent place, over four times the size of Boraila.”

“
Four times?” cried the acolyte. “I hope I can see it some day.”

“
You will, lad. You’re young still and, even though you’ve never been a long way away from Boraila, your duties will one day call you to one of the other cities.”

“
Have you visited anywhere else?”

“
Ranesch and I journeyed south from Vylandor to Talabec, then onto Sentir.”

“
Sentir? That’s near the border with Karnath, isn’t it?”

“
It certainly is. However, we caught a ship from Sentir back to Boraila after that. I have never journeyed far to the east. I’d love to see where the Ulmerien flows from.”

The acolyte nodded. “We will have to journey together one day to the Darov Mountains, Forven.”

“
Indeed we will.”

“
So what about Skarda?”

Forven frowned. “Skarda? It’s not worth going there.”

“
How do you know?”

Forven was genuinely surprised by the question. “People have been there and tell of terrible things. I’m glad the mountains keep them out.”

“
You are? What happened to compassion for all men?”

Forven leant in closer. “What do you think would happen if the mountains were not there? The Skardans would charge into the kingdom and take the land for themselves. With regards to population, they outnumber us three to one. No, lad, it’s best to stay away from Skarda. If you must travel far, visit Morassia or the wilds of Karnath.”

The young acolyte looked thoughtful for a moment, but then broke into a wide grin. “Maybe we could send old Ranesch to Skarda. He’d convert them in seconds.”

Forven laughed. “He’d probably send them all running. Who would have guessed that one old grumpy cleric could make an entire culture flee for their lives.”

“
He’d best take his bell with him then,” sniggered the acolyte, stifling the need to laugh outloud.

Forven reached out and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “As entertaining as it is up here with you, I have things to attend to.” He moved away and opened the hatch. As he began descending into the temple, he glanced up at the acolyte. “Don’t stay up here too long, Rynn. You’ll catch a chill one of these days.” Then, still chuckling to himself, Forven vanished below.

Rynn took another deep breath, watching the rays from the bright morning sun playing off the ocean, then moved to the hatch. Below, he could hear voices and recognised one as Ranesch. The old cleric was probably cursing Rynn for not coming when summoned.

With a wry smile, Rynn closed the hatch and continued to watch the sun rise over the Rotian Kingdom.

“
Will there be anything else, sir?”

Talgan Akalla glanced back at the servant, who was waiting in the doorway to his private chambers. “No. I need nothing else tonight.”

The servant, a tired-looking man approaching his twentieth year serving the noble Akalla family, bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind him.

Talgan turned back to the window. The view overlooked part of the Vylandor docks and the moon was bright enough that evening for him to make out three vessels moored there. Sighing, he moved to his desk and stared down at the mess of papers scattered across it.

“
This is preposterous,” he muttered, putting a hand to his aching head.

Thoughts swam in his mind and he found that his concentration was suffering. His life should have been so much easier than it actually was. He was still only thirty-two and had taken over the responsibilities of his father, a respected member of the Noble Council, recently. His father was a close friend to King Afaron and this worried Talgan. In his eyes, Afaron was a rash ruler. He was too concerned with helping the people less fortunate and was overly generous in financial matters, such as taxes and tolls. He was not prepared for what may happen in the future and the kingdom would suffer for his mistakes.

Talgan saw the candle on his desk flicker, as if caught by a rush of air. With a quick glance to make sure his sword still stood within reach against the side of the desk, the nobleman turned to see someone standing by the door to his chambers, hidden within the shadows.

“
What news do you bring?”

Stepping forward, the newcomer cast his eyes around the room suspiciously. “My arrival is expected now?” he asked in a whispered voice, the accent betraying his foreign origin.

Talgan forced a smile. Was this the same man he had met two months back? He quickly looked him up and down. Wearing a dark cloak which hid any possible weapons beneath, the man had his hood pulled up and all that could be seen was the lower half of his face. Talgan was sure he recognised the thin, pale lips. Standing over six feet tall, the man was surprisingly silent for one of such large build. Strangely enough, Talgan still did not know his name, but then again he was unlikely to give it.

“
To be truthful, I thought you would be here four days ago,” stated Talgan. “Each night since then, I have awaited your arrival.”

The foreigner’s eyes caught the candlelight as he stared at Talgan coldly. “I have a message.”

Talgan nodded, feeling nervous under the foreigner’s gaze. “What is it?”

“
It begins soon. You are to be ready.”

“
How soon?”

The foreigner was silent for a moment, then turned his head towards the window. “That is not for you to know,” he answered.

“
Not for me to know?” Talgan flinched at the volume of his own voice. “I think that I deserve to know after providing you with so much information on the kingdom.”

“
However, we need to know what defense can be found at the place you call Barentin,” said the dark foreigner, seeming not to have heard the councilor.

Talgan bit back his angry words. “Barentin? It is a trade town. Why are you interested in it?”

The foreigner turned back to face him. “What defense?” he hissed.

“
It has a town guard,” sighed Talgan, looking down to avoid looking into the man’s eyes. “As it is such an important place to do business, they keep the peace.”

“
How many guards?”

“
The garrison there number between one and two hundred men. I do not know the exact amount.”

“
Do they react quickly to conflicts in the town?”

“
Not as quickly as some would like.”

“
Where are the largest contingents of guards located?”

Talgan thought for a moment. “Usually around the docks and the markets.”

“
Are there any soldiers based in Barentin?”

“
No. The northern-most area you’ll find Rotian military is at the border with Morassia, where the Ulmerien…the river…flows in.”

“
They are of no concern anymore,” whispered the foreigner.

Talgan felt a cold dread wash over him. “What do you mean?”

“
It is of no relevance. When we begin moving, you must pay close attention to the reactions of your king and council members. I will return for information when required and you are to tell me everything being planned. You are our eyes and ears now so your knowledge will be key in our success.” The foreigner turned silently and headed for the door. “Ensure you are ready.”

“
Wait,” cried Talgan boldly. “I need to know more. I am…”

“
You need know nothing else,” interrupted the foreigner, placing one hand on the door handle. “Should any other rotian know of our presence in the kingdom before our plan is set in motion, you understand the consequences.”

“
You’re not leaving this room until I have some answers.” Talgan reached out and grasped the hilt of his sword.

“
Do not be foolish, rotian. I could kill you before you could even lift that blade.”

Talgan froze. He had done too much to die now in a ridiculous show of false bravado. His grip on the hilt released and he slowly turned, expecting to see the foreigner standing before him with a weapon ready to strike. However, the man had gone and the door to his chambers was once again closed.

“
Curse them,” spat the councilor.

He moved to the window once again and looked out at the city beyond. How different the Rotian capital would be soon. How different it would
all
be.

Chapter 2

Just one more
.

Varayan Devohr knew that some day those three small words would be his downfall, but he shrugged the thought off as he worked at the simple lock.

The alley he crouched in was completely shrouded in shadow and the only sounds to be heard were those from the tavern two streets over. To Varayan’s reckoning, the occupants of the abode he sought to gain entry to had headed to that tavern thirty minutes previous.

He chuckled quietly to himself. Even though he had just turned twenty, Varayan was wise to the way of the streets and considered himself one of the best thieves in the Rotian Kingdom.

As the lock on the building’s back door clicked open, Varayan reflected on why he had come to this city in particular. He had lived most of his life in Shulgard, to the south-east, but had heard about the weighted pockets of the people in Ashgar and decided to head to the large city to try his luck. Eventually, he would have to move on. He found that he grew bored staying in one place too long. He had already narrowed his next destination down to either Naskador to the east or Kaeril in the south. It was a difficult decision to make. Naskador, whilst being the renowned Thieve’s Capital, was a dangerous place to be. The various guilds operating within the troubled city were not keen on newcomers or troublemakers. On the other hand, Kaeril was quiet, yet lawful. The Kaeril Guardsmen were famous for stopping a crime before it even happened.

The choices for a thief were never easy.

Varayan glanced left and then right before entering the building, finding himself in a narrow hall. Ahead, he could make out an open door in the gloom. He made sure that the back door was closed and moved on silently into the house.

Another thought entered his mind, as so often they did as he went about his business. He should just stay in Ashgar. The city was warm and inviting, plus the guardsmen were so dim-witted that he could get away with practically anything. Ashgar was the most secluded place in the kingdom. The nearest signs of life were the various farms scattered across the surrounding land and the tiny fishing hamlets along the southern banks of the Ulmerien to the north. Even the latter took several days to reach. Ashgar was alone in the wilds of the kingdom and that was the way Varayan liked it.

Finding nothing of real interest downstairs, the young thief headed for the first floor. The bottom step of the polished wooden stairs creaked and Varayan simply smiled at the fact that only he heard it. He swiftly made his way upstairs and began his search of the bedrooms.