All that Glitters (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 1) (25 page)

T
HE MANAGER OF THE CARAVANSARY AND
two well-dressed men arrived with the sun. "I heard that you had some trouble last night," the manager said as he walked up to Sahren. "Did you lose many of your people?"

"No, my people are all fine," Sahren answered. "Goodman Barvil and his men took care of the thieves."

"Then some of the thieves escaped?" one of the other men asked.

"No. There are twelve dead bodies on the other side of the wagons," Sahren said, pointing to the west.

"All twelve—that is, your warriors defeated twelve bandits? They must be extraordinary," the other man said and Sahren focused her gaze on him.

"Yes, they are," she almost hissed. "One of my consignees recommended them to me. I'm sure that Elain will be most gratified to know how good they are. I'll be sending her a message detailing everything that has happened in this city before we leave."

The manager of the caravansary cleared his throat and bowed slightly. "I should make arrangements to bury the bodies. Excuse me, please." He hurried away without waiting to see if anyone objected.

"We should probably be going as well," one of the other men said. They both turned and walked rapidly away.

Barvil had been standing slightly behind Sahren the whole time and stepped up to her side as the men leisurely fled. "That fool knew too much."

"Indeed," she said. "I don't know for certain, but I think that was the fearsome Ahmel Fel'Barkan." She smiled as she turned toward Barvil. "Stavin and Karvik killed the men he sent to rob me. The leader saw which wagon I got the gold from. That's why those three went for me."

"I'm sure Karvik will return your gold," Barvil said, but Sahren held up a hand to stop him.

"That is his, Barvil," she said, stopping to face him. "Those men would have killed me. I value my life above the few crowns."

Barvil bowed his head in acceptance. "As you wish."

Sahren looked around and grimaced. "I've had enough of this place." Raising her hands to her mouth she bellowed, "Load up and harness. We move as soon as we can."

Barvil found his warriors already packing and grabbed his own bedroll before Stavin or Karvik got to it. "Sahren is in a hurry to show her back to this town. Load the wagon quickly and get ready to move. Chandar, you drive today. If something happens, I want my best teamster handling those reins."

Chandar snapped to attention and said, "Yes, Sir," then went and tied his horse to the back of the wagon and climbed aboard. Stavin and the others loaded their gear in the wagon and were waiting in their saddles when the wagons started rolling.

That night Barvil awarded the kills to his men. "Last night was an unusual night for many reasons, not the least of which was an attack when we should have been protected. Sahren paid enough to ensure that. Davel, you claimed two. That brings you to eleven and your second red stripe. Congratulations Command Sergeant Kel'Borvan. Lavin, you claimed two, bringing you to seven and your first red stripe. Congratulations, Sergeant Kel'Farin. Chandar, you claimed one for a total of six and earned your first red stripe as well. Congratulations, Sergeant Kel'Varin. Karvik, you claimed three kills, bringing you to a total of ten." There was a note of pride in Barvil's voice that none of the men could dispute when he awarded Karvik's kills. "Horvan, you woke up and responded to the attack in time to make one kill. That gives you're your fifth white chevron. And Stavin," Barvil said as he paused for a moment, "who was in such a hurry to join the battle that he forgot his armor, claims three kills, bringing his total to eleven and earning his second red stripe. Congratulations, Command Sergeant Kel'Aniston."

Barvil stepped over so that he was looking down into Stavin's eyes. "We all know how good your armor is, Stavin, but even if they can't cut through to your skin, a blow to the back or chest from an ax against mail can still kill you. Worse, it could cripple you. Think about how you'd react to not having your legs under you ever again. Think about not being able to love your wife again.
Think
, always, before you join a fight."

Stavin stood and bowed deeply. "Yes, Sir. It won't happen again, Sir."

* * *

The caravan left the area controlled by Zel'Doran and headed down the road to the coast. Sahren kept their pace brisk until mid day, then slowed to their normal pace as they crossed the Zel'Evid River. The Zel'Evid drained into a gigantic swamp and the road circled north around the periphery.

The caravan remained unmolested as they traveled to the city of Adak's Cove. It had started as a simple fishing village long before Luxand had expanded this far west. Now, it was home to one of the largest fishing fleets in Evandia, but it was still controlled by the powerful Pah'Trini clan of fishermen.

When Stavin found out to that they were going to see the Pah'Trini, he excitedly explained what made them special. "The Pah'Trini are originals. Dandarshandrake never changed them. They are what our ancestors were like before Dandarshandrake remade the Chosen. When they were found, he said,
'These are sufficient as they are.'
I've always wanted to meet one of them."

Everyone had to grin at Stavin's enthusiasm. On the fourth day after leaving Zel'Doran, they arrived at Adak's Cove. The city was built around a wide harbor, and the first thing Stavin noticed was the pungent smell of the shore.

Stavin wasn't the only one who noticed. The driver of the number two wagon began cursing and tied a bandanna over his nose and mouth. Stavin tried that as well, but the smell still got through.

The caravan pulled into an open field near the old city gates and Sahren had them form a line for trade. The warriors were setting up their camp, and Stavin looked at Kahndar and asked, "What is that
stench
?"

Kahndar looked at him with a pained expression. "Low tide and no wind. It'll be better once the breeze picks up," Kahndar answered.

Local people started coming out of the city as word of the traders' arrival spread. Soon there were over a hundred of them and more were coming. Barvil had assigned Davel's hand first watch, so Stavin was free to wander among the crowd.

Stavin found himself being examined as closely as he was examining the Pah'Trini. The proclamation from Twin Bridges concerning him had arrived twenty days before he had, and just about everyone knew him by sight. Curious children and youths trailed silently behind him. Curious, but more courteous, adults watched him closely as he passed. No one approached him, though several of the young women started to until they were called back by their elders.

Something was nagging at the back of Stavin's mind, but it didn't become clear until he heard two of the Pah'Trini arguing. For trade they spoke the common language, but among themselves they spoke Old Tongue.

Stavin didn't hurry his steps, but he did set his course toward Barvil and stopped by his side. "Sir, have you noticed that they speak Old Tongue among themselves?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Barvil nodded. "Many old societies do. It gives them an advantage in trade because most traders don't. They can speak among themselves and discuss a trade without the trader listening in. Usually. Sahren and several of her people speak Old Tongue as well as I do, but don't let on that they understand what's being discussed. That gives the advantage to the traders."

Stavin was staring at Barvil. "How did you know that?" he asked.

Barvil laughed at the expression on Stavin's face. "I've been doing this since before you were born, Stavin. There was a time when I was a curious youth just like you. I pestered the master of my first caravan until he threatened to put me to work."

Stavin stood frozen for a moment, then had to laugh. "At least Sahren hasn't done that to me yet. Thank you, Sir." Stavin continued to wander through the crowd until it was time for him to join Kahndar and the others on guard.

Late in the evening, a delegation of important people from the city came to the caravan and were met by Sahren and Barvil. "How may I be of service, Lords?" Sahren asked as she bowed respectfully.

"We are seeking Friend of Evandia Stavin Kel'Aniston. I am told that this is his caravan," the youngest of the men replied.

"Your information is only partially correct, Sir. This is my caravan," Sahren said with another bow. "Friend Stavin is one of the mercenaries that I hired in Twin Bridges."

That information seemed to throw the men off balance for a moment and then one of the elders spoke. "We would like to speak to Friend Stavin."

Barvil looked over his shoulder and found Stavin and the rest of Kahndar's hand watching from beside the wagons. He raised his hand and held up one finger. Stavin immediately came forward and stopped at Barvil's side. "Yes, Sir?"

"Friend Stavin, these are the local lords and they wanted to meet you," Barvil explained, motioning toward the visitors.

Stavin removed his helmet and stepped forward. "I am pleased to meet you, lords," he said with a bow.

"He's a child!"
one of the elders said in Old Tongue.

"This can't be right,"
another agreed.

"I assure you that I am indeed Friend Stavin,"
Stavin replied in fluent Old Tongue.

All of the visitors froze for a moment, then the youngest spoke again.
"You speak the Old Tongue well, young man. How is this possible?"

Barvil stepped up to Stavin's side and said, "
Old Tongue was the official language of the court in the Land of Farind. We of the Cat Clans of Kavin still learn it, though the Land of Farind is no more."
The man looked disturbed by that information and eased back a little.

Stavin smiled and switched back to the common tongue. "Perhaps we should restrict our discussion to a language that everyone understands. To do otherwise would be rude."

"Yes," agreed the elder lord. "Yes, you are correct, Friend Stavin. That would be rude of us, wouldn't it? Friend Stavin, we wish to welcome you to Adak's Cove. How long will you be staying?"

Stavin turned to Sahren and bowed. "Master Trader Sahren, how long will we be staying?"

"We leave at dawn, Friend Stavin," she said, bowing slightly.

Stavin turned back to the lords and the elder spoke again. "That is unfortunate. Lord Warnel Pah'Aflin is out with the fleet, and will not return for several days. He, like you, encountered a dragon in his youth and wanted to share the tale with you."

Stavin found himself bowing automatically. "I am sorry to hear that we have missed one another. If ever I have the opportunity to set foot in your city again, I'll make every effort to see him. If you would, please pass along a message to him."

"I would be honored, Friend Stavin," the younger man said. "What would you like my uncle to know?"

Stavin smiled slightly. "Please tell your uncle that minstrels are not to be trusted."

Everyone, including Sahren and Barvil, laughed at that. "He is of the same opinion, Friend Stavin," the young lord replied with a grin.

T
HE LORDS TURNED AND WALKED BACK
to the city as Barvil and Sahren led Stavin back to the wagons. "You know the story of Warnel Pah'Aflin's Dragon, don't you Stavin?" Barvil asked.

"Yes, Sir," Stavin said with a laugh, "but I would have liked to hear the true story. After listening to what has happened to my story, I have to wonder what really happened."

The caravan moved on at dawn, and soon a breeze from the sea blew away the stink of rotting fish and brought a refreshing coolness as well. The road they were on paralleled the coast, and they soon reached another fishing village. Sahren didn't want to stop again so soon, but it was getting dark earlier than normal due to a storm that was coming from the east.

The villagers were happy to see the traders and people hurried out to trade, and then hurried back to their homes, casting furtive glances at the sky the whole time. Stavin saw one old man pause and make a gesture to avert bad luck and he asked, "Sir, what is coming that you invoke Alankarah?"

The old man looked at him for a moment, then said, "Omalaha, the God of Storms. This is the season and those are the signs." He pointed to the low, circulating clouds in the east. "Soon the rains will come to bless the fields, but first of all Omalaha will exact his tribute of blood and sorrow." He hurried away, leaving Stavin to wonder what he was talking about.

Sahren explained it to all of their people as they ate that evening. "Omalaha, the God of Storms, is a storm out of your worst nightmares. It builds out over the sea and comes ashore like an avalanche of wind and water. If there was a road inland I'd run for it, but this one stays on the coast. Our best bet is to get to high ground and anchor the wagons to the largest trees we can find."

The sky in the east was blood red when the sun rose the next morning, then faded to a sullen grey as the day wore on. Sahren had her wagons on the top of a hill back up the road and Barvil had his men working alongside the traders to secure everything.

Stavin had been pressed into an unusual role, but he was the best suited for it. He was using the incredible edge of his Dragon's Tongue to cut saplings that the others were weaving together to build the best shelters they could for the animals.

The wind started picking up near evening and Sahren had everyone climb into the wagons and latch the doors closed. The warriors had been divided out amongst the traders, and Stavin found himself wedged into Kethlan's crowded wagon.

Kethlan patted Stavin's knee and saw him jump. "Calm down, Stavin. There's no sense in wearing yourself out worrying about the weather. The Gods Above won't help you if Omalaha comes for you. Just you relax and don't worry about what's outside."

"How can I relax and stay calm, Kethlan?" Stavin asked, looking at the walls as a gust of wind shook the wagon.

Kethlan smiled sadly before he answered. "Because if Omalaha does hit this wagon, you'll only have a moment to know it before you die. There's no fighting it. There's no reasoning with it. Why spend what might be your last moments worrying yourself sick? Relax and think about your young wife. Think of things you didn't do or say to her and write them down so you won't forget when you get home."