Darius Chapter 28

Darius and Falsith rode in single file, treading over the dry clay. The heat shimmered over the track in front of them as though the ground was releasing pent-up gas. The horses lolled their tongues and puffed out every breath, sending strings of spittle and foam onto their shoulders and withers. A stray wind lifted a piece of dribble off the horse’s flank and splattered it on Falsith’s face. He was tired enough that at first, he didn’t react, simply accepting that it might be raining, or an insect had landed on him. Then it began sliding down his cheek and he clapped his palm to his face, wiping off the wet trail.

“Awww yuck. Bloody blasted thing goin and bloody–”

He trailed off into a low mumble, too fatigued to complain any further.

They had traversed the same tepid earth for six days, struggling for food and water. They were going a different way than what Darius had previously travelled, giving the Great Road and its surrounding forests a wide berth. Unfortunately, the eastern extremities of the Continent were a miserable place for humans to travel. Like the plains they had been attacked in a week and a half ago, the ground was populated by swathes of grass which kept the horses well fed, but left Falsith and Darius stuck for options outside of the occasional rabbit that could be caught unawares. The lack of shelter meant the days were hot, and the nights were frosty, leaving Falsith particularly frigid without his shirt. In the past couple of nights, their horses had been laying down to sleep after the long days of travel, and Falsith had been curling himself up next to his horse’s belly, like a foal. The day after he had begun this practice, Darius had insisted that Falsith ride behind him so that he didn’t have to endure his smell.

They considered stopping for a lunch break, but there was nothing to eat, so they forged on. Darius scanned the horizon for any trees, feeling the temptation of scavenging in the forest for a meal of bird eggs, berries and the fresh water of a small brook, when he saw smoke rising up ahead of them. He turned his head and croaked to Falsith.

“Fal...sith. Look.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d been heard, but he trundled on regardless, following the path in the hopes it would guide them to the sign of civilization. Darius felt a strange sense of familiarity when they crested a small rise and he saw the welcome sight of Karringlock before them. It was still a few kilometers away, but Darius already felt rejuvenated. He slowed his horse to let Falsith come equal with him, then he gave him a feeble punch on the leg, shaking him out of the monotony.

“It’s Karringlock. We made it.”

Falsith produced a dull smile like he’d dreamt Darius’s words, but when he received a second knuckle to the thigh, he perked up.

“Wait, we’re here? Where do we get food!”

“Relax, mate, relax. We’re still a couple kilometers away, and I don’t think the horses could handle a gallop. Just take it easy for a half hour and my Ma will be feeding us till we pop.”

That would be a dream.

Darius watched Karringlock at they approached, looking it over for any signs of change. Even though he’d walked out the gate only two and a half months ago, he felt like he should be coming back to a whole new village. But nothing had changed. The northern wall still had the hole where the wood had gone rotten, Bern was still asleep at his post in the guardhouse, and the houses still stood in the same places they always had, waiting for their occupants to return from their daily tasks.

The first person they met was a farmer herding his sheep into one of the fresh paddocks outside Karringlock’s walls. He tipped his hat at the travelers then returned to his work, doubling back when he realized that he recognized the face.

“Darius! My lad, home already? What happened? Did ya put that hammer up the king’s arse or somethin?”

“Warrun! Good to see you, yep, home already. It’s a bit complicated, I’ll tell you later once I’m fed and watered.”

“Aye, get goin, you two look like death incarnate.”

The air got a little cooler as they entered the city, where the people of Karringlock had brought soil and trees from the forest to line the two main streets. Karringlock was essentially divided into four quadrants, each with eight to twelve structures in a loose grid on each block. Nearest the gate was the main infrastructure and businesses, like the blacksmith, tannery, barracks, butcher, fruit stores, and other more boutique stores for housing, medicine and small goods. The barracks stationed a rotating cast of eight soldiers who manned the gate and lookout towers over two-week shifts. The townspeople also had basic weapons training, but in Karringlock’s long history, they had not yet been raided by any opposing human force. Trenk raids were also uncommon given the reasonable distance from the forest and clear sightlines for at least a kilometer in every direction. The town was old, very old, dating back hundreds of years to when a group of cattle raisers had set down their roots in the sweeping plains, a source of endless food for their animals. The forest was two kilometers south, which resulted in daily trips to retrieve water and forage.

Darius felt shivers run up his spine as the guards waved him and Falsith through, happy to see him return. It felt great to be back. They headed down the main street and turned right at the crossroads, heading through the quiet town until they arrived at Darius’s house. There was a low bar for them to tie their horses to out the front. Theft was not of any concern in Karringlock. For a moment, he considered if the shining ancient axe might break that rule and be too tempting to a passerby, but decided to leave it lodged between the saddlebag and the horse’s side – partially hidden.

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He eased open the door and knocked as it swung open.

“Hulloo? I’m baaack. Ma? Pa?”

He creaked through a narrow hallway. He could hear the sizzle of something cooking, and the jostling of logs being placed under the cooktop. He rounded the corner into the kitchen, feeling the dryness of his throat and the way his stomach yearned for food. Before him stood his father, tipping the contents of a pot into two bowls, and his mother, sitting at the table making sure he didn’t spill.

“Ma! Pa!”

They both spun around in shock. His father slopped some of the contents of the pot on the bench before setting it down and rushing to hug Darius. His mother couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Darius! What on earth! What are you doing here? We didn’t think we’d see you for so long! I’ve been waiting for a message.”

She tore his father off and smothered Darius with kisses, moving away to look at his face as though she might have been mistaken. Although it had only been a reasonably short time without seeing him, it felt like forever. Darius tried to get a word in.

“First, water. This is Falsith, he came with me, and we’re both dead on our feet. We’ve barely eaten or drank in days. Pa, there wouldn’t happen to be more of that stew, would there?”

His father, Rolloc, rushed around the kitchen filling two tankards of water and filling another two bowls. He sat them down at the table, giving the shirtless Falsith a strange look.

“Absolutely, tuck in, boys. But why haven’t you any food? The forest stretches almost all the way to Erinstone, does it not?”

Darius guzzled the water and buried himself in the food. After two weeks of unforgiving travel, the meal was like ambrosia.

“It’s a long and complicated story, but we couldn’t take the Great Road or risk being found in the forest. The world has changed a lot it seems. Myself and Falsith here may be...uh...wanted criminals.”

That silenced the room. His father started rapping the table with his fingernails and his knee shook under the table.

“Should we ask what you did?”

“Yes. I, well, you need some context, and I think I need to talk to Grandpa Krevalitz about it, but basically, the Crown Princess found out that I can create magical weapons and armor, and now she’s thinking about using them to destroy Barringvale. She locked me in the King’s Forge and forced me to work for her and, oh, she is most definitely not marrying Prince Ranvost anymore.”

His mother, Marila, closed her eyes while her vision swam. Her son left home for two months and came back as a magical criminal. When she came to, she looked at Darius with glistening eyes.

“Darius, that all sounds terrible, but there’s something we have to tell you, and it won’t be easy for you. Krevalitz passed away a few weeks after you left. It was sudden, but peaceful. He just went in his sleep one night, no pain.”

Falsith felt very awkward, so he gave Darius a light squeeze on the shoulder and left the room with his bowl.

Darius put his spoon down and angled his neck back, gazing at the roof. He blinked rapidly as he tried to hold back the tears welling up.

“Grandpa...He was getting on I – I’m sure he was ready I mean – I just...”

He gave up and put his head in his hands, letting his tears gather in cloudy swirls at the bottom of his stew bowl. Marila got up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.

It had been a wet reunion. Falsith came back into the room wearing one of Rolloc’s shirts. He got a funny look from the old blacksmith.

“Are you wearing my best shirt? I got married in that, you know. Now it’s got your stinkin’ self all over it.”

Darius swiveled and, despite the tears, burst out laughing at Falsith’s ridiculous get-up. The buttons of the shirt were almost bursting around the warrior’s chest and stomach. The material was lucky he’d been comparatively starved for the last two weeks. He twisted like a gymnast preparing to do acrobatics, and the shirt gave up, spraying buttons and thread across the room, thwacking into Rolloc’s soup with a shlap.

“You absolute oaf! Darius, you get around with this kind of bloke? I suppose he’s probably an actual criminal, eh?”

Darius had to defend his traveling companion.

“He’s actually one of the greatest warriors in Erinstone, and was the Lieutenant of Heldrus Avongold’s squadron. He broke me out of the castle where Silfor locked me and Bart up. That little show is what gave him the criminal status.”

Mentioning Bart hurt, but he’d had enough of being miserable, and he didn’t want his parents to worry about him. He moved on.

“We won’t be here permanently, by the way. I wanted to ask Grandpa some things about a language I used to hear him speak, but I suppose I’ll go through his stuff and see what’s there. You haven’t thrown everything out yet have you?”

Rolloc jumped from his chair and motioned to Darius.

“Nothing important thrown out, come look! We did some cleaning – just ordering everything and sorting out the literal trash – he kept all these broken molds and stuff. There’s a number of books with strange symbols and words in them though, you might be interested?”

Darius and Falsith followed into a small study at the rear of the house. Against the back wall, all of Grandpa Krevalitz’s stuff was organized in neat piles. Books, weapons, tools, pieces of leather of various sizes all lay before them. On a whim, Darius picked up an armful of books.

“’A Short History of Karringlock’, ‘Pyotur Poe’s Stories for Children’, ‘Rath’s Ruminations’.”

That’s curious.

“Hey Pa, did he ever talk about this one?”

Rolloc looked it over.

“Oh my gods did he ever! Only a day or two after you left, we had a group of merchants come by and stay for a few days – awful loud lot they were – but Krevalitz got talking to one of them and bought that book. He talked about it most nights at dinner, talking about Rath and his apprentice and all that stuff like it was more than fantasy.”

Darius flicked open the mangy, yellowed pages, stopping randomly. It appeared to be in alphabetical order, so he turned back to the start and came to the letter ‘E’.

There were a few pages of history about an ancient mine called Ernstfell, then it switched to a fresh title page with a strange symbol scrawled at the top. Next to it was its pronunciation, a word Darius knew very well.

‘{Es-shen}’