The Dieya Chronicles - Incident on Ravar Page 2

CHAPTER 1

  The old stone inn was quieter than usual. Only a scattered handful of men huddled over their drinks. The steady rain had kept away most of the casual drinkers and it was past time for the arrival of coach travelers. An abundance of candles failed to dispel the damp gloom that filled the room.

  Padek fretted about the lack of business but worried more about the hearth. He studied the large communal fire, trying to gauge how long it would burn. Running out of dry wood was embarrassing. Only a poor innkeeper would let his fire die. He ran his sausage-sized fingers over his balding pate.

  “It will burn for a while longer,” said the young barmaid with a reassuring smile.

  “I hope so, Molli.” He hid his discomfort with a gesture toward the common room. “Go make the rounds and see if anyone needs more drink.”

  She smoothed her dress and tucked a loose strand of her dark hair back under her bonnet before hoisting pitchers of ale and wine.

  Padek retied the apron around his wide girth and silently cursed Flantra and Monla for the extended cold spring rains. The woodshed had been leaking for weeks but no one had told him. After the sound beating he had given the kitchen boy, he knew it wouldn’t happen again, but that didn’t dry the wood.

  He sent Molli to check on dinner and wiped down the already spotless bar. Padek felt more on edge than called for under the circumstances and had a sense there was something odd in the air tonight. He hoped it would amount to nothing.

  The weighty front door crashed open and three heavily-armed men stomped in from the steady downpour.

  “Wine!” bellowed the largest of the three. His snarling dark face and black eyes bespoke of cruelty and savagery.

  “Tonkin!” gasped Padek. His surprise rooted him to the wooden floor.

  “Be quick about it, fool!” ordered Tonkin as he and his men made for the far corner table.

  Padek leapt as if stung. “Right away, Sir.” He slammed three large goblets on the bar and hurriedly spilled wine across each. Grabbing the brimming cups he sped across the room, arriving before the men had settled into their seats. “Will there be anything else, good Sirs?” he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “Just keep the wine coming,” replied Tonkin.

  Beads of sweat popped out on Padek’s forehead and he shifted from foot to foot. “Begging your pardon, Sir, but you haven’t paid your bill from the last time you were here, and…”

  Tonkin glared, then leaned back in his chair, idly dropping his hand to his sword hilt.

  Padek glanced down at the sword and swallowed. “…and I’ll just put tonight’s bill with the other.”

  Tonkin grunted in dismissal and pulled Transor dice from his pocket.

  Padek returned to the bar and wiped it quickly, as if the effort would whisk away his fears. Molli returned from the kitchen carrying a tray of clean mugs and stopped short when she spied Tonkin. Her face lost all color.

  “Yes. He’s here,” said Padek.

  Molli stared at Tonkin and moved closer to Padek. “He frightens me like no other,” she whispered.

  Padek stared at the bar and scrubbed harder. “Once, at that very table, Tonkin cut off the fingers of a man who accidentally drank from his cup.” He looked at Molli. “You know, being an innkeeper makes me a fine judge of men. Folks come in and I can read ‘em like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Some are like a crisp ale and some are like a thick honeyed mead.” He stared at Tonkin. “With him, it’s like being ‘round a terrible vintage gone to vinegar in a rotten cask.”

  Padek gave himself a little shake and ventured a small smile. “Just keep his cup filled and everything will be all right.”

  Molli glanced at the hearth. “And if the fire dies out?”

  Padek paled and glanced at the fire. Its embers flickered as though they had heard. “Let’s just pray it doesn’t.”

  “More wine!” bellowed Tonkin.

  Fear flashed on Molli’s face though she hurried to comply. She rapidly filled Tonkin’s goblet.

  When she finished, Tonkin grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Don’t make me have to call you.” Shoving her hard, he turned back to the dice game. She stumbled against a nearby table, splashing wine from the pitcher onto her dress.

  Molli hurried back to Padek, blinking away tears and massaging her sore arm. “Padek,” she pleaded, “can you fill his cup next time? Please?”

  He nodded and glanced at the hearth, willing the fire to burn longer. He had wood drying near the kitchen stove and hoped it would be ready in time.

  With his mind on the roast mutton, potatoes and beans, Padek scurried about the common room filling empty mugs. Only the rattle of Transor dice and Tonkin’s barking laughter pierced the evening’s quiet. Padek was refilling a pitcher from a large keg when the front door opened with a blast of cold air. A stranger hurried in.

  “Close the door, you ass!” yelled Tonkin without looking up from his game.

  The man slammed the door shut, sending water droplets flying from his cloak. Padek studied the new arrival. He was dressed entirely in black from cloak to boots to gloves. The clothing absorbed the light, as if it were the faraway bottom of a deep well. Padek could usually tell the amount of gold in a man’s pouch and be correct to a silver, but this time he was stymied.

  The stranger raised his head and threw back the hood of his cloak, stunning Padek for the second time that night. His first thought was that one of the rarely seen northern Arvari had graced his tavern. It took a moment to realize he was wrong. The solemn, craggy features and tall whip-cord lean body could have been those of the woodland folk; but a quick glance at the hands showed five normal fingers. Padek wondered at the man’s age. The body said thirty five, the intense face said fifty. Padek looked deeper and saw a hard man with eyes turned cold by dark experience. The man in black leaned over and wrung out the ends of his long blond hair.

  Molli greeted the stranger with a small curtsy. “What will it be, M’lord?”

  The stranger beamed a smile that changed his countenance from hardened vagabond to grinning bard. “Why, some food, a room, a little ale and a warm fire would be most welcome, M’lady.” The pleasing tones of his voice even sounded like a bard’s. Padek smiled to himself as a blushing Molli escorted the man to a table near the fire.

  “Be right out with your ale, and dinner’s almost ready,” she said, and headed toward the kitchen.

  The stranger removed his cloak, spread it on a chair and warmed his hands over the dying embers. He caught Padek’s eye and motioned to the fire. “Innkeeper, your fire seems in need of more wood.”

  “Right away, Sir.” Padek wrung his hands then pushed a scullery boy toward the kitchen. “Get the driest wood you can find and be quick about it!” The boy was back in moments with an armload of damp logs. Padek carried them to the fire. “Sorry, M’lord, but the wood’s a little wet and will have to dry out a bit more.” He spread the logs near the fire.

  The stranger looked disappointed, but nodded his acceptance.

  “Wet wood!” yelled Tonkin from across the room. “Padek, you are an idiot and I should blacken your eyes.”

  “Sorry, Sir,” Padek said with lowered head and downcast eyes.

  Tonkin jerked a thumb at the stranger. “It grew cold in here when that walked in. Hey you! Get out of the way and stop blocking the heat!”

  The man in black turned to face his detractor and Tonkin’s eyes narrowed. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He grinned and nudged a comrade. “It looks like a half-Arvari!” He stared at the stranger. “Some Arvari diddle your mother, boy?” He laughed.

  The stranger’s face grew hard. “Friend, we can all share the warmth of the fire.” He turned and extended his hands over the glowing coals. “But unlike you, I know who my father was.”

  Tonkin’s face grew bright red and his clenched hands shook with rage. “Bastard?” He leaped to hi
s feet, chair crashing to the floor behind him. “Bastard!” Spittle flew from his lips as if he had trouble saying the word. Tonkin’s sword rang from its scabbard with a flash of gleaming metal.

  “Tonkin!” yelled Padek. “The man’s unarmed!”

  With an animal bellow, Tonkin charged across the tavern, sword upraised. In a blur, the stranger stepped inside Tonkin’s swing. Grabbing Tonkin’s sword wrist with one hand and throat with the other, he snatched Tonkin off the ground. Tonkin hung still for an instant as if gripped by iron bands then struggled to no avail. With his free hand he tried to pry the stranger’s hand from his neck.

  The man in black gave Tonkin an angry shake and tightened his grip on the man’s throat. “You would attack an unarmed man? Kill him for no good reason?” He emphasized each sentence with a hard shake. The stranger’s face darkened in anger. “I’m tired of what the likes of you do to this world!” He squeezed harder and Tonkin’s face grew bright red. A loud crack resounded in the room. Tonkin’s body went limp, tongue lolling from his mouth. The sword clanked to the floor. With a quick, effortless toss, the stranger threw Tonkin’s body ten feet away into the north wall where it smashed with a sickening thud and slid to the floor.

  Face still etched with rage, the stranger glared at Tonkin’s cronies. They cringed in their seats. He scanned the rest of the stunned patrons then turned to Padek and roared, “I will have heat!” He strode to the smoldering coals and tossed on all the wet wood. Standing in front of the fireplace, he held his hands over the logs and murmured something in an odd, sing-song tongue. Bright blue beams of light suddenly streamed from the palms of both hands, bathing the wet logs in a steaming, fiery nimbus. The cold, blue light cast demon shadows on the stranger’s features. Within seconds, the logs were ablaze.

  The stranger closed his palms and the beams ceased. He lowered his arms slowly, the rage melting from his face. He sat down and uttered a lone, deep sigh. “I’d like my dinner now, please.”

  Padek nodded, wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve and motioned Molli toward the kitchen.

  The patrons chattered in low tones to each other.

  “– did you see? –”

  “– god’s bells –”

  “– that blue light –”

  “Dieya! It must be Dieya the Sorcerer!” exclaimed one of Tonkin’s cronies.

  “Can’t! Dieya be an old man by now.”

  “Dieya’s eight feet tall and has horns.”

  “Don’t care who he is, you seen what he done to Tonkin. I’m leaving.”

  “Good idea, Wills. I think this is the time for a long goodnight to the wife.”

  Tonkin’s cronies heading for the door was the opening of the dam. The rest of the inn’s patrons flooded out behind them, never taking their eyes from the man in black.

  When Molli returned from the kitchen, tray laden with steaming bowls of mutton, potatoes and beans, she halted in her tracks.

  There was only one customer.

  Padek took the tray and cautiously approached the stranger. He placed the food on the table and glanced at Tonkin’s body. He wiped his sweating forehead.

  The stranger helped himself to the potatoes and beans, but ignored the mutton.

  “Will there be anything else, Sir?” asked Padek.

  “Yes, I’d like more ale and your best room. Sorry about your sudden loss in trade but this should cover everything.” He tossed two gold sovereigns onto the table.

  Padek’s eyes widened and he quickly scooped up the coins. Two gold sovereigns were three months’ profit.

  “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. First room at the top of the stair is yours and I’ll see to it that you’re not disturbed.” He glanced at Tonkin’s body. “Not that anyone would,” he muttered. Padek caught Molli’s eye. “Fill the gentleman’s mug. Then ready the master guest room.”

  Padek returned to the bar and opened his hand. The gold gleamed on his plump palm. Turning his back to the stranger, he cautiously bit into one. Satisfied, he dropped them into a pocket. Their clink overrode any qualms about his unusual boarder.

  Molli filled the stranger’s mug and he flashed a charming smile. She lowered her head to avoid his gaze. “Sir, don’t be putting an enchantment on me, please.”

  The stranger sighed. “I don’t do things like that, Molli. I’m smiling because I can see you have a kind heart. I don’t see that often enough in this world.”

  She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “Well then, kind Sir, be you really Dieya the Sorcerer?”

  “Some in this land call me that, yes.”

  “Have you been to many lands, Sir?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his eyes. “More than I care to remember.”

  Molli curtsied, then left to ready his room.

  Dieya ate his dinner slowly. When finished, he tossed a silver down on the table and picked up his cloak. He climbed the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. Pushing open the door to his room, he glanced in, palm upraised. The sparsely furnished room was unoccupied but neat and tidy. A candle burned on the bed table. He entered and closed the door, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The room was freshly dusted and the linen clean. The bed had been turned down and fresh water filled the ewer. A single gold kingscrown flower sat in a small vase on the dresser. He smiled and muttered a quiet, “Thank you, Molli.”

  Raising his left arm, he glanced at the jewel encrusted gold amulet attached to a leather band on the inside of his wrist. His fingers touched the jewels in a pattern that set an alarm ward on the door and window.

  Lying down on the bed, he locked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting to the search. It had taken him weeks to narrow down the hunt to this area. By tomorrow he would know for certain. He hoped he wouldn’t find what in his heart he knew he would. Shaking off the feelings of impending doom, he blew out the candle and fell asleep.