Oathbreaker (Legend of the Gods Book 1) Page 7

  Quinn reached down and tore the coin purse from the man’s belt. Upending it on the table, he watched as several coppers and two golden libra tumbled onto the table. “Then you’d better start explaining where you came by that gold, captain,” he growled.

  “It was the coward, Devon, sir! Him and his friend. That’s all, I swear it!”

  “Devon?” Quinn asked, his grip loosening momentarily on the man’s collar. He had fought alongside the man years ago, but hadn’t seen him since his shameful retirement. “What has he got to do with my missing Magicker?”

  “I don’t know anything about a Magicker!” the captain shrieked. “But Devon and his mate, they were in trouble with the royal guard. Paid us to make a quick exit and hold up their buddies. I never knew he had anything to do with a Magicker, I swear!”

  Quinn slapped the man hard across the face as he started to ramble. Behind him, he could hear the spearmen edging away, but Quinn kept his attention focused on the captain, sensing he would find his answers there.

  “Devon has no magic,” he said dangerously. His sabre left its sheath with a hiss. He tossed the captain to the ground, then knelt beside him and placed his blade to the man’s neck. “So, tell me why I should believe you?”

  “Please, sir!” the guard shrieked, his eyes pressed tightly closed. “I swear I’m telling the truth. Devon and his friend came through, caused a big commotion, that’s all I know.”

  Quinn eyed the man for a moment, waiting to see whether he had anything else to reveal. Finally, he released him and stood, ignoring the pathetic blob of a man as he curled into a ball and started to sob. Moving to the desk, he flicked through the papers, but could find nothing of use. Turning, he walked back through the gate tunnel and out into the dying light of dusk.

  Stopping at the railings overlooking the stairwell, Quinn looked out over the harbour. The port was empty now, the last ship just beginning to pull away. From its bearing, he guessed it was making for Trola. His eyes travelled farther out over the lake, taking in the distant glow of white sails. They were racing against time now, their sails at full mast as they sought the safety of the river before the storm caught them.

  Closing his eyes, Quinn settled in to wait for his men.

  When they finally appeared, they could offer nothing but confirmation of the captain’s story. Apparently, several royal guards had come bursting onto the docks around the time Devon had fled. Devon and his friend Kellian had left aboard a ship bound for Lon, though several sailors who’d overheard their conversation with the captain vouched that they’d only paid for passage to the shore.

  Quinn shook his head. It didn’t make any sense. Devon was a formidable warrior, but he possessed no magic. Nor did his friend, Killian. Both men were stubborn, borderline treasonous fools, but even they weren’t foolish enough to aid a Magicker. The very idea of going up against the Tsar’s decree was suicide, and coward or no, Devon was too fond of his own life for that.

  Still, something didn’t quite add up. Quinn had learnt long ago there was no such thing as coincidences. There was no denying that magic had been used out on the docks. By whom and what for, he had no way of knowing.

  But he had a suspicion Devon and Kellian might.

  Turning, Quinn looked at his men. “Ready yourselves for the hunt,” he said quietly. “We leave as soon as the storm breaks.”

  Chapter 9

  Alana groaned as she fell back on the bed. Her eyelids fluttered closed, the day’s strain finally catching up to her. Outside the wind howled, its violent gusts tearing at the shutters. They had watched the storm building through the afternoon, felt the beginnings of its power as the waves grew around them. By the time they’d reached the shelter of the river, Alana’s stomach had been heaving. Even the giant warrior Devon had looked a shade paler, and his friend had been too busy with his head in a bucket to pay them any more attention.

  It had been a relief for everyone when the ship finally docked at the Scarlet Feline—which turned out to be a riverside inn a league down the river towards Lon. With the rain just starting to fall, Alana had used the money she’d intended for the ferry to purchase a room and meal for herself and Braidon.

  Unfortunately, Devon and his friend had also taken a room for a night. With the innkeeper still busy preparing the evening meal, Alana and her brother had retired upstairs. They would have to return to the serving room soon though—or risk going hungry. She wasn’t looking forward to facing the big man’s anger.

  Thinking of her desperation back on the docks, Alana felt a pang of guilt. She could hardly believe she’d resorted to blackmailing the former soldier. The memory flashed before her eyes, blurred by adrenaline. Already it seemed distant, more a dream than reality. Maybe that was the only way she could accept what she’d done. With the ship about to depart and the guards closing in, blackmail had been her only option. Even so, the act did not sit well with her.

  And it had almost been for nothing anyway. Silently Alana sent her thanks to Antonia for the captain’s sudden change of heart. If not for his grudging acceptance that they could leave, the royal guards would have boarded the ship. And then…

  Alana shivered and forced the thought from her mind.

  “You think supper’s ready yet?” Her brother’s voice came from the other bed.

  Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food and she stifled a groan. Through the wooden floorboards she could hear the dim thud of feet downstairs. The inn was empty except for themselves, Devon, and Kellian, which meant the other two were already in the dining room.

  “You’re really that hungry?” Alana asked, sitting up on the bed and looking at her brother.

  Braidon rolled his eyes. “They’re not going to bite,” he replied with a grin. “It was only a little blackmail.”

  Alana raised an eyebrow. “And just who taught you your morals, young man?”

  Her brother’s brow wrinkled, his eyes dropping to the floor. “The same people we ran away from…”

  A strained silence stretched out. “Sorry, Braidon,” Alana whispered. Inwardly cursing her thoughtless mouth, she stood and moved across to sit beside him. Rubbing his back, she continued. “We’re safe now, though. No one has any idea we’re here. We made it. It’s all downhill from here.”

  She smiled as his eyes brightened. “How long will it take us to reach Northland?”

  “A long time.” Laughing, she stood. “But longer if we travel on empty bellies. Come on, let’s get some food.

  With Braidon’s hand in hers, they left the room. Pausing in the hallway, Alana quickly ducked back inside and picked up her sword belt before bolting the door behind them. With a wave from her, Braidon led the way to the stairway at the end of the corridor. The wooden floorboards squeaked beneath their boots with every step, announcing their approach to those below. The sound of voices ceased as they made their way down the stairs and turned into the dining room.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little stowaways!” Devon’s booming voice greeted them as they moved towards the bar.

  Alana glanced in the giant’s direction. He and his friend sat at a table near the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the orange fire burning behind the grate. Two half-empty mugs of ale sat at their table, but Alana guessed it was not their first round. Devon had removed his chainmail and helm, and no longer carried the warhammer on his back. Even so, with his hulking shoulders and matted beard, he was an imposing sight.

  Silently, Alana flashed a glare in their direction, but it only brought another boom of laughter from the dark-garbed hammerman. Shaking her head, she looked away, and found the innkeeper waiting for them behind the bar.

  “Enjoy your rest?” he asked with a smile as they walked up.

  “Very much, thank you,” Alana replied, feeling herself relax at the man’s easy demeanour.

  The innkeeper was easily into his fifties, with greying hair and smile lines that spread across the breadth of his cheeks, but he moved with the vigour of a much younge
r man. Which was fortunate, since it was only him in the lonely inn.

  “Good, good! Well, what can I get my second-best customers for the night?”

  Alana laughed: they were his only customers, aside from Devon and Kellian. Most travellers chose to take a ship directly between Lon and Ardath nowadays, rather than risk the landward journey through southern Lonia. Since the losses suffered during the civil war, the Tsar had been forced to cut patrols along the Gods Road, and bandits were no longer as rare as they’d once been. There were even rumours of wandering Baronian tribes making a resurgence.

  “What do you have for supper tonight?” Alana asked.

  “Got a pot full of traditional curry from Chole, if a bit of spice is to your liking?”

  Alana’s stomach rumbled her agreement and she nodded quickly.

  “Take a seat then, folks,” the innkeeper replied. “I’m sure the lads over there would love some civilised company.”

  Alana laughed. “We’re just having a quiet night. Got an early start tomorrow.”

  “Ay, fair enough. It’s a long trip downriver on foot. ’Specially if you’re the superstitious sort.”

  “How so?”

  “New in these parts are ya?” the innkeeper questioned. When they nodded, he went on. “The Sitton Forest lies to the south of here. There’s some folk who believe it’s haunted. Too many travellers go in that don’t come out, they reckon. Can’t say I’ve ever paid much attention to the rumours myself. Travelled the entire forest plenty of times, even seen the ruins. I’ll admit the place is creepy. Some of the trees even have faces. But I’ve never encountered any spirits.”

  “Good to know, I guess,” Alana replied, “but I think we’ve got it covered.” She patted the hilt of her sabre with a smile.

  “Ay, you look like a capable lass. Ah well, I’ll see to that curry. I’ll bring you your plates shortly.”

  “Cheers!” Alana’s thanks carried after the innkeeper as he rushed through the double doors behind the bar.

  Sharing a grin with her brother, Alana led him across the room to a table in the corner. It was further from the fire than she would have liked on such a cold evening, but she had no wish to be any closer to their fellow guests. Unbuckling her sword belt, she looped it over the back of her chair and sat down opposite her brother.

  “What do you think, sis?” Braidon asked.

  “Huh?” Alana asked, glancing in his direction. Her gaze had been across the room, where Devon’s amber eyes kept flicking them dark glances. Outside, lightning flashed, followed by the rumble of thunder.

  “About Sitton forest?” her brother elaborated. “Where have I heard that name before?”

  “There used to be a city there, but it was destroyed during Archon’s last reign,” Alana replied.

  Her brother shivered. “Sounds like a place we should avoid.”

  “He’s dead, Braidon. It’s been a hundred years since the Gods destroyed him.”

  “Yeah, but the Gods are gone now,” her brother shot back.

  Alana sighed. “Yes.”

  Like most people their age, she was well versed in the tale of the Three Gods and their war with the infamous Archon. A century ago, the mortals Enala, Eric, and Gabriel had wielded the legendary Sword of Light, and worked with the Gods to destroy the dark Magicker. After his fall, the Three Nations had flourished under the rule of the Gods. The only problem was, they’d left. Without their guiding hands, it hadn’t taken long for war to return to the Three Nations. Only the emergence of the Tsar fifty years ago had restored peace to the land.

  “Where do you think they went?” her brother asked, his voice dropping low.

  “I don’t know,” Alana said simply. “I like to think they’re still out there somewhere…watching over us, but they could just as likely be dead. Either way, don’t get your hopes up, praying for them to come rescue us.”

  Her brother’s shoulders fell. Instantly, she regretted the harsh words, but there was no taking them back now.

  “Here ya are!” Alana looked up as the innkeeper placed two steaming bowls of curry and a plate of rice between them. “Anything else I can get you folks?”

  Alana smiled. “I think we’re good.”

  Nodding, the innkeeper moved away. Alana took the chance to inspect the contents of her bowl. The curry was a bright red, thick with ground up herbs and spices. The few chunks of chicken she could see were mostly bone and gristle, but they were more for the flavour, anyway. The dish came from the nearby city of Chole, where for almost a century the land had been plagued by drought. The drought had finally broken with the fall of Archon, but their fiery cuisine remained, remnants of a time when fresh meat was a rare commodity.

  Alana’s stomach rumbled as she breathed in the rich scent of paprika and turmeric. Almost drooling, she reached for the spoon lying beside her bowl.

  “Enjoying your meal, princess?” Alana jumped as Devon’s gruff voice came from behind her chair. Metal clattered as the spoon slid from her fingers and jumped across the tabletop. She cursed as her knee struck the table leg.

  Gritting her teeth, she turned to find the man towering over them. “I was about to,” she growled, “before I was interrupted by a hideous talking donkey.”

  Devon’s mouth dropped at the insult, and his face flushed a mottled red. Fists clenched, he took a step closer and placed his hands on the back of her chair. Alana’s heart pounded against her chest as she caught the glint of rage in his amber eyes.

  “Excuse me?” he said dangerously.

  Alana stared back, brow creased, unflinching. “I said you were a donkey,” she replied. When he didn’t respond immediately, she added, “A hideous one.”

  For a second, she thought the giant would explode. His face darkened, turning from red to purple, and he tilted her chair back, its front legs lifting from the floor. Alana tensed, readying herself. Her sabre was trapped behind the chair, closer to Devon than to her, but she inched her right hand towards her table knife.

  Then Devon threw back his head and laughed. Alana jumped as the sound echoed from the shutters. Pain shot up her leg as her knee struck the table leg again, but she was too shocked to notice it. She sat staring as the giant hammerman shook his head and wiped tears from his eyes.

  “You’ve got stones, princess,” Devon managed finally, his laughter fading away. “No one’s spoken to me like that in years. At least, not to my face.”

  Despite her fear a few seconds earlier, Alana found herself smiling. “Well, anytime you need a reminder, let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

  “I bet,” Devon said, still chuckling. He nodded to her brother. “How about you, sonny? You as tough as your sister?”

  Across the table, Braidon wore a grin as broad as the giant warrior’s. “No one’s as tough as Alana.”

  Alana’s heart warmed at his praise and she found herself speechless.

  “I don’t doubt it!” Devon continued, “So, the name’s Alana, is it? What’s yours, sonny?”

  “Braidon,” came her brother’s reply before Alana could stop him. Inwardly she cursed her foolishness for using their real names in front of people.

  “Well, allow me to apologise for my rudeness. It’s nice to meet the two of you.” He offered his hand. “My name’s Devon, though you already knew that. My friend over there’s Kellian. You’re welcome to join us for a drink, if you’d like?”

  Alana smiled at the offer. “Thanks, but we’ve got an early start tomorrow. We’re just going to eat and hit the hay.”

  Devon nodded, flashing an easy smile. “Fair enough,” he replied. “I’d better be getting back to my drinking companion. Perhaps we’ll see you on the road.” At that, he turned and strode back across to the table where his friend waited.

  “Well, that was…strange,” Alana said finally.

  Braidon shrugged. “Probably realised he’d met his match.”

  Alana laughed. “I guess so.” Her stomach rumbled as she turned her attention back to the food. �
��Well, we shouldn’t let it get cold. Let’s eat!”

  Later in their room, Alana smiled as the heat of the curry spread through her stomach. Her mind still sluggish with sleep, she moved straight to the bed. Lying down, her eyes fluttered closed, her thoughts drifting. Images flickered before her mind, then faded into the darkness of sleep…

  “Alana!”

  A smile came to Alana’s lips as her brother ran across the shimmering grass. His curly black hair bounced as he ran, falling across his face and forcing him to pause and brush the locks away. She opened her arms and he continued his dash, and she staggered back as he threw himself into her hug.

  Laughing, they fell to the grass in a heap. Her brother’s giggling echoed from the stone walls as they rolled several feet before finally coming to a stop. Sitting up, Alana brushed grass from his hair.

  “Did you miss me?” she asked.

  He nodded. “It’s been ages, Alana!”

  “I know, I know. But I have responsibilities now, you know that. I’ll try not to be so long next time.” She winked at him as she stood, offering her hand.

  Braidon took it with a knowing smile and stood. Together they made their way through the gardens, following the broad stretch of wall beside them. Rose bushes were dotted across the lawns, and they were forced to detour several times. Their sweet aroma lingered in the air, drifting on a soft, warm breeze.

  “Have you been studying hard?” Alana asked as they finally stepped onto a path.

  Her brother wrinkled his nose. “I’m trying, I swear,” he replied. “It’s just, hard…”

  Alana felt a twang in her chest as she looked down at him. “It’s not that difficult—” she began.

  “Not for you!” Braidon cut her off. “You’re the smart one, remember…”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Alana dropped to one knee beside him. Reaching out, she took his hand and pressed it to her lips. “You’ll get there, it just takes practice, okay?”

  He eyed her for a moment, his lips pursed tight. “Okay,” he said finally. Then he smiled, his eyes dancing. “But first you’ll have to catch me!” Spinning on his heel, Braidon took off through the gardens before Alana could grab him.