Sovereign's Wake

Chapter Six

             The woman knelt over her father as the hunter returned from around the smith's shop. Novas was outside the entrance to the inn, keeping his distance from the mournful woman and her fallen family. In his thoughts of protecting the her, he felt determined and full of purpose, but he felt a deep sorrow for the woman's loud lament now. This feeling had only increased when he noticed that the still face of one of the bandits could not have been much older than his own. That similarity disturbed him, and he felt the struggle of life and death rise again in him. He became more resolute in avoiding such an end.
            As the innkeeper and the bartender stood outside the inn under the overhang, they scratched their heads and surveyed the aftermath of the bloody confrontation. The innkeeper ambled over to the grieving woman and placed a heavy hand upon her shoulder.
            "Alcort was a hard worker and a good man, Kayten. He was a welcome guest with an admirable spirit, and he always paid his dues. The loss of his presence will be felt at the inn, and he will be remembered well. Tonight, we will raise our salted glasses, fresh with tears. Aye am sorry, mee dear," the innkeeper offered, staring into the woman's enflamed eyes.
          The man turned away and returned to his inn where Garreth was now standing with his son.
            "A bloody mess yee and yer boy have made of those Blackwoods. Aye would take the bodies off the road before yee scare off any of mee customers," Jorge chided as he ventured back inside the inn.
          "This is no job for a boy. Go back inside and get our packs ready," Garreth told Novas after his son began to lift one of the bloodied bodies.
           He met his father's gaze and nodded. Novas turned away, went back inside the inn to the room, sat upon the bed, and stared through the window at the scene below. He had wondered if he had angered his father with his actions. He had only done what he had thought to be right.

          Novas recalled the frenzied encounter moments earlier. He was awoken from sleep by the clatter and scuffle from the smithy, the clanging of steel, and the slamming of doors. The screams and the yelling prompted him to snap upward out of the cot and peer through the window. He pushed the cloth curtains aside to see Alcort receive his mortal blow and witnessed the same wretched man who rose from the corpse as the robed one the highway from yesterday. The intentions of the gang seemed clear to him then. His heart pounded as the shady gang began to surround the bereft woman who screamed at the death of her father. Novas could not imagine life without his father and feared to think of a world without him. Novas imagined the pain of her loss and the pain that was about to follow. The act of the Blackwoods did not seem to be out of survival but of slaughter. Novas thought if he could stop those men, he could stop any more forests from falling, houses from burning, or loved ones from dying. He would not succumb to fear. Novas set up his bow and steadied his shot; he knew he had to act.

         Garreth went over the belongings of the fallen, checking through their pockets and pouches for valuables. He found an assortment of tris and tetras on the underlings and pocketed a Blackwoods insignia ring made of lustrous sunsteel belonging to the robed man. As he hauled the first body over to the horse cart, he came across a bundle of bread and dried pork and set it aside for later. Getting his hands bloody was not unusual for the man; he had pulled his share of corpses off the battlefield before, of either friend or foe. These bodies were like all the rest: cold, stiff, and lacking the essence of life that death had taken away. As Garreth had stacked on the last body, the woman appeared behind him. Her face was wet with tears, her cheeks alight with red pigment, and her eyes were stained a similar shade.
          "Could you help me with my father? I wish to bury him out back," she asked with downcast eyes and a delicate voice.
           Garreth helped the daughter carry the man out behind the smithy and laid him on the grass. With a pair of shovels, they broke the earth into a deep grave and placed the man inside with all the respect they could muster. Fresh tears streamed down the daughter's eyes as she watched dirt conceal the only person she had ever truly known or loved. Garreth stood in bowed reverence as the woman returned from the house with a decorated blade, shining with polish and radiant with an inlaid design. She plunged the blade into the dirt as a headstone. To her, it was a brilliant exemplar of a man whose character was as good as his craft.
         "I want to thank you. Not just for honouring my father but for saving my life. After I killed that man... I am sure terrible things would of happened to me if you and your boy had not have intervened when you did. The Blackwoods are not known for their kindness," she turned to the hunter and spoke after she had reflected on her actions.
          "I only did what I felt was right, and I am sure my son did the same. Today was not my first meeting with Blackwoods, and I could not allow them to continue to oppress the people they share this land with," Garreth explained.
          A renewed flushness arose in the woman's face, but this one was not of grief but of anger.  
         "My only friends, fellow merchants and craftsmen, were scared from the Crossroads with the Blackwoods' thugs, threats, and taxes. We don't get much business because folk are too scared to travel on the roads and fearful of highwaymen never impeded by the Queen's Aegis. Forests around Amatharsus are being leveled like never before, and farmers are strong-armed in desperation. There isn't a place or province in our land that the Blackwoods don't seem to have their strangling fingers around," the woman spat, her voice rising to a familiar, simmering anger.
           "I share your concern and distress. The Blackwoods attacked my home and what I hold dear. My son and I are on our way to the city to find the truth behind these troubling times," Garreth replied in a solemn voice.
              The woman turned back to the grave and hung her head in mourning.
              "I wish you well in your journey then. May you have more luck than my father did," she said as she kneeled beside the grave.

           When Garreth and Novas left the inn, the innkeeper and the bartender were outside on the crossroad spreading fresh dirt and gravel over the areas that had been stained with conflict. Even though the two travellers were packed and prepared for another stretch of their journey, Garreth still had one last duty to perform. They leapt upon the carriage and directed the ill-kept steeds north a ways into a nearby field. The wagon wheels creaked in protest as Garreth took the carriage onto the plain, which was barren albeit a spreading of short grasses and resilient brush. The cart came to rest in a soggy depression that was not far from the road.
          Garreth released the horses from their tiresome labour, unbinding them from the cart and holsters. In weary reaction to their freedom, the animals trotted away and faded off into the distance behind a row of trees. The hunter and his son collected a bunch of dry plants nearby and made a small bundle of tiny twigs and handfuls of turf. With some flint from his pack, Garreth struck some sparks to the tinder and nursed the fire into a healthy flame. They each tossed a torch onto the bloodstained wagon. Before long, the wheels had splintered and fell inward as the wagon's bed, with the fallen Blackwoods, crashed to the ground with a loud smash. Novas smelled a pungent and nauseous odor for the first time but did not know that it belonged to flame-bitten flesh. The billowing wind made it difficult for him to escape the smoke, and he crouched on a bushel of thick grasses nearby. The wagon was reduced to ashy pieces and the bones were charred to a blackened hue before the two decided to throw damp soil across the pyre.
          Turning away from the fading smoulders of the fire, Garreth and Novas travelled uphill towards the road where a figure in a dark brown robe stood to meet them in their path. As they approached, the person withdrew their hood, revealing a shock of red hair. Her eyes moved from the funeral pyre to the men who climbed the slope.
          "More than they deserve, I feel. For their deeds, they should be the sport of crows and maggots," the forgemaiden stated as the men drew near.
            "Indeed. But the good people of the Crossroads do not deserve any further burden from the Blackwoods today," Garreth spoke as he met her eyes.
            Novas walked along on the road north, and Garreth nodded and moved onwards, leaving the red one behind them.
             "I want to go to the city with you!" the woman called out from behind.
              The two travellers stopped and turned. The woman braced her bouncing pack in a tight grip as she jogged to catch up to them.
             "I have always wanted to leave the Crossroads, and I have a way and a reason now. I want to meet with the Queen and plead the problems of the Crossroads. I need to know why the Blackwoods can go unpunished after destroying my home and my family. I cannot travel alone. I have nothing left now. I just want to know," the woman protested, nearly out of breath.
            "It would seem we are both searching for answers then. But you know these roads can be very dangerous. You'll have to do as we do, and you might have to save your life if we cannot," Garreth warned, recalling the violent episodes of their journey thus far.
            "I have a sword. I may not be able to use it well, but I can lift it," she said has she unsheathed the same fiery weapon now decorated with notches at its edge.  
            "I have another blade... one that never met its master before he was slain. It can be a gift for your boy, if you'll have me along," she offered as she withdrew another sword in its scabbard from her pack, presenting it with desperation and earnest.
             "My name is Kayten," she proclaimed as she held the blade aloft.
Garreth stepped forward, took the weapon, and withdrew it from its sheath. Garreth found it had a sharp edge and a decent shine, so he twirled the sword and tested its balance. Its leather grip felt supple in his hand, and the hilt and pommel were fixed solid.
            "It is a good weapon, Kayten. I hope Novas will not have to use it. But if he does, it will not fail him," the man said as he sheathed the blade and passed it to his son.
           Novas was excited but serious, for he recognized the responsibility of owning such a weapon. He became apprehensive of the road ahead where he might have to use it. Garreth turned, gestured towards the road ahead, and continued onward with his son beside him and Kayten close behind.