The Arkanist

The Ways of Fire

The Ways of Fire

The week past smoothly, until of course they reached Fark’s Ford.

         Fark’s Ford was an old bridge of crumbling cobble and granite that arced over the River Taelhn. Old Man Fark, a classic Anturan tale, had Fark stop at this river and build a bridge across so he could continue on his way to the capital to present the emperor with news from across the kingdom. In reality though, it was built almost three centuries ago by the Anturans as they expanded their Empire east and needed a way to cross their imperial legions across the river, which at the time flowed fast and cold from the mountain’s creeks. After their fall, the ford became a major checkpoint on the kingsway, the old stone highway the kings of Old Runir to cross through their kingdom the fastest. Jakn gritted his teeth as they approached the ford.

Dressed in their customary black and red leather, the coiners were a grim and unfriendly lot. They said little else than insults and enforced the iron law of Antur. Those who did not obey were punished and sent to prison. Coiners, or so the tinkers call them, were stationed all along the kingsway, at inns, crossroads, causeways, and fords. It was a blessing from Avian himself that they hadn’t hit a checkpoint yet.

          “Steady now,” said the first coiner, bearded beneath his hide and steel helm, voice stern. He held out his hand. “If you’ll be wanting to cross, I’ll be needing some coin from you, lad.”

         Jakn brought out his coin purse, rich velvet frayed with silk. “How much does the Iron Law charge these days?” he asked, rustling the pouch. Jakn had been taught all the fifty rules of the Iron Law when he traveled with the Marauders. They were very wordy and boring to read, with specific punishments attributed to each crime committed. Those who did not follow always received the iron price though, a patch of hot, melted iron on the arm for every crime broken. Criminals oft had their entire arms patched with iron. Jakn remembered Ekin to wear two along his forearm.

         “Ten tallos for passage,” the coiner said, holding out his palm.

         Jakn nodded and rummaged around his heavy purse for ten gold coins. He had plenty. “For the Crown and the High King,” Jakn said, handing over the heavy gold coins, trying to sound proud.

         “Each.” The coiner kept his hand out.

         Jakn began picking out another ten with ease. “Twenty tallos in all I presume, good coiner sir.” He dropped them into his palm as the coins sang. “For the people of the realm and the justice of the Iron Law.” He smiled.

         The coiners stepped aside, counting the gold, and Jakn lead Vena across the old granite bridge, the river below frozen solid in a hue of icy blue. Snow gathered about the banks and down stream he could hear the trickle of slowly flowing water. They left Fark’s Ford and the solemn coiners and continued on with their journey, following the bends of the kingsway, west, towards the Heart Sea.

         A mile off, Jakn pushed his purse away in his pocket. “Bloody coiners,” he cursed. “Half the country is dying from this cold and sickness and the Iron Law’s charging ten tallos each. Bugger that. No wonder why the streets of Riverside are so full.”

         Vena agreed.

         “Iron Law my ass,” continued Jakn, fuming. “All that money goes directly to the bloody High King’s fat arse so he can eat his full and drink all he chooses and wear all his fancy jewelry. No wonder the realm’s knee deep in debt.”

         “King Barrion?” asked Vena, confused.

         Jakn shook his head, walking a bit faster now. “Barrion’s nothing more than a Lord, he just calls himself a king because he thinks it should be his arse on the throne in Antur. No, the High King is Arose, who took the throne of Antur from the prior Emperor Aurilius. You see Arose was just a Duke of the Province Edelh, who wanted to rule. He wasn’t happy ith the taxes the Empire was making and felt that the emperor was loosing the war against the invading barbarians up north. So he had the emperor assassinated at a council with all the Dukes representing their provinces. With the emperor gone from Antarr, the capital, the city was ripe for the taking, and was sacked with surprise, and so the throne, and crown, passed to Arose. Damn him and his greedy arse.”