Elvensty, page 12
part #1 of Swordflower Series
“More than likely,” she replied.
“Well, that should make childbirth interesting,” he responded with a grin.
She felt her cheeks flush as she stared wordlessly at him, not at all sure how to reply. She wondered where that thought had come from.
Khomar’s eyes twinkled as he laughed. “My father has delivered many babies in Ghaudron. He says it is one of the most painful things a woman will ever feel.”
Aya swallowed hard. She did not know much about childbirth having been raised by a single father. She had really not given it much thought before, and she was not at all sure she wanted to think about it now.
She shoved the thought away and looked toward the door. “What do you suppose Dhrudmon is doing?”
Khomar rested his free hand on the floor beside him. “It feels like he’s in the kitchen,” he said after a moment. His lips formed a smile. “I believe he’s making a meal… and he’s probably wondering when these two newlyweds will finally come out of their room.”
“Khomar!” Aya exclaimed in shock, and she slapped him on his shoulder as her cheeks burned.
He just grinned. Mercilessly.
The pungent smell of spicy food greeted Aya’s senses as they emerged from their room a few minutes later. The room was warmed by the crackling fire, and Dhrudmon was stirring the meal upon the cooking disk as he whistled to himself softly. Upon seeing them, he gave them a friendly smile.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he spoke lightly. “I hope you like it spicy.”
“I’m famished,” Khomar said as he strode forward. Aya followed him toward the fire.
Dhrudmon paused uncertainly and then nodded toward the back door. “I examined your work out there. Your control is much better.”
Aya could feel the pride coming from Khomar through the link, and she wondered what they were talking about. She briefly thought about reaching out to get his actual thoughts, but the desire to respect his privacy held her back. She could ask him about it later.
Dhrudmon handed out the bowls, and they all sat down at the table together. Once again, Dhrudmon said a short prayer of blessing over the meal. The conversation over dinner was light and casual. Dhrudmon talked about his days at Elvensty, and the friendship he had shared with her father and mother as well as Nalykian, who Aya knew as the Headmaster.
She enjoyed hearing the stories about her mother whom she knew so little about. His remembrances of her were filled with life and color. Her vibrant personality and endless optimism had made an impact on Dhrudmon, and Aya could not help but wonder if he had been rather fond of her at one time. It was good to hear about her from someone other than her father. His memories of her had always been tainted by grief and loss.
As they cleaned up dinner, Dhrudmon nodded toward the skins that still waited on the other side of the room. “Aya, we should take your measurements for your new breeches. I can begin the actual work on them in the morning. I will need the size of your waist and inseam.”
Aya nodded enthusiastically. It would feel good to have actual pants again. And to wear a tunic that did not feel like she was wearing a tent.
With Khomar’s help, Aya measured her waist and inseam in their room which he gave to Dhrudmon. He took a piece of chalk and outlined the shape of the new pants on the back of the skin before giving Khomar and Aya a thoughtful look. “You two should get some rest. It’s been a long day, and you’ve been traveling hard.”
Aya wholeheartedly agreed and was glad to see that Khomar did as well.
As they went to sleep in each other’s arms that night, she snuggled contentedly against him, enjoying the warmth and peace that she felt from him. The conflict of the morning was a distant memory, and she was able to sleep comfortably without fear.
Chapter 11
Feeling the vibrations through his hand, Khomar was brought instantly awake, his senses raising to full strength. His gloveless right hand rested on the wall of the room behind Aya. He had assumed a similar posture every night since he and Aya had left the academy. He wanted to ensure that no one would be able approach them in the night undetected while they slept. He could hear muffled footsteps on the porch. Someone was approaching the front door.
Deftly freeing his arms from around his wife, he hurried quietly toward the door to where his belt was hanging on the wall. He heard Aya stir behind him, but her emotions were still peaceful. She had not awakened. Breathing a silent prayer, he slid out his hunting knife from its sheath and slipped outside the door, not bothering to slide a tunic over his breeches.
As he heard the front door begin to open, he slid against the wall, keeping to the shadows. The low embers of the main fire illuminated the rest of the room with a dark red glow, but he could only make out shapes as he watched and waited.
He saw a small form, no taller than a preteen child, enter the room. His senses brought the intruder into better focus. It was an adult male, probably a Flegg from his diminutive size, dressed in tight fitting skins. He was armed at the waist, though none of his blades were drawn, and a strange kind of crossbow was strapped to his back. He bore a pack that he allowed to fall from his shoulder which he casually set in a chair as he began to make his way straight toward Aya’s room.
His hand was starting to reach for his belt when Khomar broke the silence. “That’s far enough,” he said in a low voice, pitched so that the other could hear but Aya would not be disturbed.
The figure instantly froze, his hands still poised in the air above his belt. Khomar could sense his muscles twitching as if trying to decide whether or not to reach for the hunting knife that rested inches from his hand.
“Take your hands away from that knife,” Khomar commanded him calmly.
The Flegg complied, lifting his hands until they were level with his chest. “Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.
“I’m the one who should be asking the questions,” Khomar replied taking a small step toward him. “What’s your business here?”
“I… live here?” came the uncertain response.
Khomar heard the door to Dhrudmon’s room open then, and the voice of his teacher call out softly. “Palo?”
“Dhrudmon, what’s going on?” came the strained reply from the Flegg. He had not moved an inch.
“Khomar, it’s alright,” Dhrudmon soothed as he stepped into the room. “He’s a friend.”
Khomar let out his breath and allowed his knife to lower. The Flegg too had resumed breathing as his hands fell to his sides. His eyes were searching the shadows, but he did not appear to be able see Khomar.
Dhrudmon approached the fire and stoked the embers before adding a new log. The flames leapt up illuminating Khomar’s form, and the Flegg’s sea foam eyes widened as he raised his gaze to look at the bare-chested Auxule. He had to crane his neck far back to see the face that towered at least a foot and a half above him. The Flegg then glanced at the hunting blade, nearly as long as his arm, still clutched in Khomar’s hand, and his face blanched.
Sensing the other’s discomfort, Khomar set the blade down by the door to his room and waited to see what Dhrudmon would do.
“Palo, come sit down and warm yourself by the fire,” Dhrudmon said softly before turning toward Khomar. “Is your wife awake?”
Khomar paused and sensed Aya through the link. “No, she still sleeps,” Khomar replied.
Palo glanced back at Khomar. “Wife?” His eyes darted to the side door of Khomar’s room and quickly returned to Khomar’s face. “I didn’t know,” he said defensively, his voice rising a bit with excitement and his words tumbling forth with a deepening accent. “That’s where I sleep when I come. I didn’t think anyone else was here. I was just going to get some sleep. I’d never think of touching another man’s wife. I’m sorry, I...”
Dhrudmon cut him off with a firm whisper, “Palo, keep your voice down. We don’t want to wake her.”
Palo looked chagrined. “Ah, of course not,” he muttered quietly as he sank into a nearby chair.
“I don’t doubt you, Palo,” Khomar replied, hoping to calm him as he selected the chair beside him. “It’s we who have intruded here.”
Dhrudmon sat down on the couch and looked intently at Palo. “What brings you all the way out here in the middle of the Crossing?”
Palo licked his lips and glanced at Khomar.
“He’s a friend, Palo,” Dhrudmon answered the unspoken question. “This is Khomar. He and his wife are under my protection.”
The Flegg straightened and looked back toward Dhrudmon. “Nyatan’s home has been taken,” he said, keeping his voice low. The urgency of the message was obvious from the tone of his voice. “He believes they’re Tynesprys. He and his wife arrived in Virados early yesterday morning. I left as soon as I heard. I knew you’d want to be told.”
“Where are the Tynesprys now?” Dhrudmon asked.
“We don’t know for certain. Lyeal believes they will stay at the house for the Crossing. The passes will soon be impassable, if they aren’t already.”
“I almost wonder that you made it to me,” Dhrudmon replied with a smile.
The Flegg nodded. “I know these mountains. I could find my way here even if my eyes were bound.”
Khomar frowned thoughtfully. “Who is Nyatan?”
Dhrudmon considered him for a moment. “He’s the farmer you stayed with on the way here. He probably didn’t offer his name.”
Khomar felt a chill run down his back. “When did you say they attacked the house?” he asked Palo.
“Three days ago, in the evening,” Palo replied as he studied Khomar closely.
“The day we came down from the pass,” Khomar breathed, mostly to himself. He had looked out over the house the very morning before the attack. Had they not made it to the top of the pass when they did, they would have been seen. “Thank you, Yesu.”
“What’s your part in this?” Palo asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“A Tynesprys attacked his wife, Aya, about a week ago at Elvensty,” Dhrudmon answered before Khomar could respond. “Khomar brought her here for her protection.”
“Why do they want your wife?” Palo asked as he gave Khomar a considering look.
“We don’t know,” answered Khomar. “The man that attacked her died before he could tell us anything.”
“There is reason to believe that it has something to do with her father,” Dhrudmon added.
Palo gave him a blank look.
“Her father is Lanye Nytal,” Dhrudmon explained. “He was the one who spoke to the Council a couple months ago.”
“Ah, the one from Jyrya,” Palo replied with recognition. “Then did he find what he was looking for?”
“A good question,” Dhrudmon responded. “We don’t know. Aya hasn’t heard from her father since he left her at Elvensty, but I would say that it’s likely he found something.”
“What is the Council?” Khomar asked curiously. As far as he knew, there was no structured government system in Dalmain.
Dhrudmon paused for a moment, and Khomar noticed him share a secretive glance with Palo.
“Does it have something to do with the Secret Path?” Khomar asked softly.
Dhrudmon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you know about that?”
A hint of a smile touched Khomar’s lips. He had guessed right. “I know that the Secret Path allows Jyrye and Fleggs who are looking for a new life to find freedom in Dalmain. I believe that my uncle and cousin are somehow involved, and I can’t help but think it plays a part in our safe passage here.”
Dhrudmon nodded. “That’s a good assumption,” he replied with a quiet smile. He took a deep breath before continuing, “The Council was formed by the Fellowship in Virados to help provide oversight and guidance for the Secret Path. It’s comprised of various high-standing men in the Fellowship, many of whom have connections with various organizations and cities in Dalmain. Their goal was to help provide safe passage into Dalmain as well as finding appropriate forms of occupation for those who made it to Virados.”
“Yes, they’ve helped my family much,” Palo agreed. “They helped my brothers get our business started. They also helped us find a home.”
Khomar nodded in response. “So, why did Aya’s father address the Council?” Khomar wondered. “His mission was to investigate the Tynesprys, not the Secret Path.”
“He sought out the Council because of our connections,” Dhrudmon explained. “There’s no central government in Dalmain, but through the Secret Path, the Council has gained access to a network of information that spans all of Dalmain and even reaches into Fleggland and Illisya. Not much happens in our area of influence that we don’t know about.”
“So are you a part of the Council?” Khomar asked curiously.
“I participate in the Council when I’m in town, as does Palo, but we’re not primary members,” he replied. He paused for a moment thoughtfully before rising to his feet. “It’s late, and we’re all in need of rest. There’s nothing that we can do tonight, and I’d like to have more time to think and pray about what we should do. Palo, you can sleep on the couch. We’ll talk more over breakfast.”
Palo nodded even as he yawned. “Now that you’re off my bed, I can get some sleep,” he commented with a weary grin.
“Thank you, Palo, for letting us use your room,” Khomar offered sympathetically, realizing the man must be exhausted from his long walk here in the freezing cold.
Palo shrugged as he laid down. “It’s no problem. I’m so tired I could sleep anywhere.”
Khomar made his way back toward his room. He could already hear faint snoring from Palo behind him as he retrieved his knife. He opened the door to their room as quietly as he could and slipped inside. After returning his knife to its sheath, he knelt by the fire that was now down to embers and added a fresh log. He felt Aya’s thoughts touch his before he glanced back to see her watching him.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a quiet whisper.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he replied with a tired smile. “Everything’s alright.”
He laid down next to her and wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her forehead gently, and she nestled against him. Soon her steady breathing told him that she had fallen back asleep. Just before sleep overtook him, he prayed that what he had told her was true.
***
Aya woke up to the sound of the wind howling and the hard patter of snowflakes striking the outer walls of the cabin. The fire in their room was back to embers, and there was a chill in the air. Khomar had unrolled his bear skin in the night and had pulled it over them. It managed to mostly shield her from the icy drafts that would occasionally filter through the walls. She shivered in spite of the warmth of the arms wrapped around her. Something about that fact struck her as odd until she realized that Khomar was actually still lying next to her. It seemed like this was the first time that had happened since they got married.
The room was still dark so she could not see her husband’s face clearly, but Khomar’s steady breathing and calm emotions through the link indicated that he was still sleeping. At that moment, she wished that their positions were reversed so she could be closer to the fire. In order to get up at this point, she would have to crawl over the top of him. She quickly discarded that idea as she seemed to remember that he had been up in the night. She did not want to interrupt what little sleep he might still receive. Instead, she opted to pray.
It was sometime later when Khomar awoke with a shudder. He slid out from under the bear skin and hastily pulled his tunic over his head before tending to the fire. Aya watched him silently, not wanting to get out from the warmth of the bed. He paused for a moment and then glanced back at her in surprise.
“You’re awake,” he observed.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, actually,” she replied with a smile. “Was I dreaming, or were you up in the night?”
“I was,” Khomar confirmed as he looked back to the fire. “One of Dhrudmon’s friends showed up in the middle of the night. His name’s Palo.”
“That’s a different name,” Aya noted curiously. “Where’s he from?”
“He’s a Flegg from Virados, but from his accent, I believe he originally came from Fleggland.”
“A Flegg? In the Wylds?” Aya was puzzled. The classes she had taken on Fleggish culture had mentioned nothing about Fleggs living in the forests east of Fleggland.
“Fleggs don’t just live in Fleggland like they say at Elvensty,” Khomar grinned back toward her. “There are many Fleggs in Dalmain and even in Auxland.”
“So, how much of what I was taught is actually true?” Aya asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted the answer.
Khomar chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t think I attended enough of that class to really be able to say, but probably not much. Their cultures can vary quite a bit depending on where they live. I know the ones in Auxland are quite different than those in Fleggland, and many of them don’t even speak Fleggish.”
Aya looked at him suspiciously. “So, how did you manage to pass that class if you never went?”
“Being related to the Headmaster has certain privileges,” Khomar grinned sheepishly. “How did you manage to skip most of your first year?”
Aya tried to glare at him, but she could not suppress the smile on her lips. “I guess we both have our connections,” she admitted, laughing softly. Having Lanye as a father had allowed her to skip most of her first year courses after all. “So what does Palo look like?”
Khomar shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t get a good look at him last night. But I do know he has a hunting knife, a nice collection of throwing daggers, and a strange kind of crossbow.”
She scowled at him and muttered, “You’re not a lot of help.” She sat up then and began to untie her braid. “Can you hand me the comb?” She wanted to make a good first impression, or at least as good of one as she could wearing her husband’s tunic and having not bathed in almost two weeks.
