The Hollow Grove: The Companions [Book 2]

[33] The Sacred Home for Wayward Sons

Port Bariss finally spread before the three weary companions. The high noon sun lit the Black sea to the west where a wide bay broke angry waves. Boats of all sizes sat patiently anchored like ducks in a brackish pond. Long, wide cedar plank docks extended out into the water for the boats to load and unload their cargo. Even now, the Schooner ship Charger carefully rowed into position as rig hands were lowering and stowing the blue and white sails of odd, angular cut. Dock workers swarmed back and forth unloading Charger's payload and stocking it up with crates, sacks, and chests.

The seven inns that sprang up over recent years were centered around a remodeled orphanage that survived the great war. Most of the population that made up Port Bariss preferred The Sacred Home for Wayward Sons because all believed it was coveted by the divine. Many of the more permanent residents indeed took up permanent residence in the converted orphanage, so getting a room at the Sacred Home was near impossible unless one knew the owner and proprietor of the establishment, or could pay premium prices. Luckily for the companions, Anyu was of the former.

"Port Bariss," said Kayla lowering her hood. "We finally made it."

Anyu slid off her mount encouraging the others to do the same. "Locals call it The Carnival. Folk of all walks here. Some escape crimes committed in Lyborna. Some come to just challenge themselves in the wild and this is their port of entry. Anything and everything goes. There is no Watch, nor Shire Reeve. We Rangers are sometimes asked to settle differences if blades are kept to scabbard." Then the Ranger smiled a thin hook of a smile, reassuring the newcomers. "But I have made a few friends here and though it is lawless, it's not without hope. I have grown to like a few of the locals and one is even a friend."

"That's good news," said Haygen. He was pulling out his waxed leather hood he kept rolled up in his armor for heavy rain.

Anyu stopped him, resting a toughened hand on his forearm. "There will be no need to hide yourself here, Haygen. In fact, the more intimidating you can look the better. It will keep the eyes of potential woman-slavers off us."

This thought shook Kayla and she instinctively felt for her blackthorn staff. She planted the end of it into the earth and took a deep breath. Then she remembered that her list of spells was ever-growing and that only a fool would trifle with her even without her new staff. Just out of habit, though, she ground a small bit of coal into her left hand and stood up a little straighter remembering she was prone to slouching. Walk into town like you're going to a fight, Otis always warned her. Won't get caught off guard that way. She had come to live by those words.

The Barbarian tucked his hood away and lead them into Port Bariss. He stood tall and his arms were very dark green from the sun. His muscles were bulky and veins ran up and down them like strands of rope. He stepped with a sneer channeling his primal, barbaric side striving to be the alpha among so many wolves.

The main street wound between hastily crafted buildings like a dirty serpent. Haygen and Scar cleared a path pushing aside Sailors, Mercenaries, Bravoes, Rogues, Slavers and Adventurers who seemed to be going about their own business. Most had Horses, Donkeys and Kudakis of their own. A Smithy's hammer rang an anvil in the distance. A handful of food vendors hailed their wares tempting the big Half-orc's stomach. They passed the food area and stared into the cracked window of an inn called The Tempted Mermaid occupied by a company of Dwarves with twists in their beards and dirt on their hands. If it was run by a Dwarf perhaps they have Dwarven ale? thought Haygen.

"On your left," said Anyu, "just up ahead. Time to introduce you to an old friend of mine."

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The Sacred Home was of Faerie craft with its curving peaks, arched shingling, and stained glass windows. There was bright green ivy twisting along the low fieldstone walls that bordered the fresh plots of Festuca grass. Multicolored flowers were home to many strange winged insects and added splashes of color. Together it was a bright light among ordinary architecture of the inns and haberdasheries that surrounded it. Painted on the front door was a red circle showing passersby that help was inside if needed.