Godless: Book I

Godless

- Book I -

The Raven Stone

By A.K. Gallagher

eBook Edition

Copyright © 2015 by S. L. Simpson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

This book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except in the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction – names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either: products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is purely coincidental and may or may not, be intended to placate or infuriate.

Second Edition, March, 2015

FACEBOOK: A. K. Gallagher – Author

Book Cover designed by Author

Cover Image Downloaded from wallpapercovers.com

Table of Contents

Title

Acknowledgements

Map

Chapters

1. There’s No Place Like Prison

2. A Piece of Parchment

3. The Riverbend Hag

4. Beodaw’s Dash

5. Imperial Mud Bath

6. Of Gods & Giants

7. Roses are Red, Slugs are Slimy

8. Grey Rock Mountain

9. Let Sleeping Brothers Lie

10. The Sword of Argoroth

11. The Beast Within

12. Flaming Underpants

13. The Wandering Tribe

14. The Journey of a Thousand Steps

15. Keep Your Enemies Close

16. Of Feathered Wings & Raven Kings

17. The Ghosts of Beothain

18. A Doubtful Destiny

19. The Crescent Canyon

20. The Lady & the Lion

21. A Bitter Taste

22. Luthando

23. Letting Go

24. The Betrayal

25. The Grey Wolf

26. The Fortress of Calcar

27. Fire & Water

28. Ashes on the Wind

Endnotes

Hymn to Arku

Acknowledgments

To my son, my world, thank you for understanding that a writer must write and for enduring my distraction and absentmindedness.

I offer my heartfelt thanks to the wonderful Alexis Chapman, my editor and dear friend, who has devoted many hours to, and shared my enthusiasm for the characters and world that live within these pages.

And to all those who have offered their encouragement, thank you for the support.

CHAPTER ONE

There’s No Prison Like Home

Elianna’s heart fluttered and her palms became sticky as her sense of unease grew. It crossed her mind to strike him, as she fidgeted with her hands, shifting her weight from one booted foot to the other. She muttered and twitched anxiously as her trembling fingers wound around the strands of her long chestnut hair.

‘Will you hurry up!’ she said, impatiently.

Mathusal, her older brother, glanced over at her, as he took his time hitching the horses to the cart.

Peeking over her shoulder at the storefront, the dark and impenetrable bay windows stared back at her, offering no signs of life within, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t watching – he was always watching. Any moment now, Beodaw, her wizened grandfather, would appear and bark a reason for her to stay in Havenport – as he did every other time she tried to escape the confines of the seaport town’s high walls.

‘Come on Mathusal!’ she whined, irritably.

As if deliberately trying to exacerbate her infuriation, which was not unlike him at all, Mathusal slowed down at his task, and Elianna stamped her feet on the frosty cobblestones, close to an indignant tantrum in the middle of the town square.

Moaning with exasperation, she picked up a loose pebble near her feet and threw it at him.

It bounced off the cartwheel, far from its mark, much to Mathusal’s amusement.

Where seventeen-year-old girls were concerned, in the Southern Tantanian Empire city of Havenport, Elianna was not the most patient nor idle of them.

‘There, all done,’ he said, at last, dusting his long hands and standing tall.

‘About time,’ she said, crossing her arms.

Despite the chill in the early morning air, her brow beaded with sweat and her fingertips tingled and prickled with heat. She was anxious – she knew she was, but the sooner they began their journey, the sooner she could avoid Beodaw inventing a reason for her to stay behind, as he always did.

The familiar sound of bells tinkling over the store door, chimed across the square and her heart froze. She let out a disgruntled groan and turned to face him.

Her grandfather, a respected alchemist and healer, stood in front of the store in his velvet robe, his lips pursed under a bushy grey beard. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement, knowing the reason for her rumbling dissention.

‘No escaping after all,’ she grumbled under her breath as her heart sunk to her feet.

‘I just had a thought,’ he announced, raising a pointed hand. The sleeve of his robe fell back, gathering at his elbow in many folds.

She rolled her head and groaned again, with no attempt to conceal her disappointment or inevitable insubordination.

He continued with a sly smile, ‘I need you to-’

‘No!’ she snapped, cutting him short and adding a stomp of her foot.

The Tantanian Empire beyond the walls of Havenport beckoned, and he would not stand in her way any longer – not now she was of age.

The mountains of the wild were calling her. The world was waiting – and if she hesitated, if she faltered on the threshold of freedom and adventure, the only thing to come calling would be a marriage proposal and the life sentence to go with it.

Her restless heart panicked like an untamed animal in a cage, desperate for air, afraid the one who held the key to the lock would refuse her freedom on the cusp of release.

However, no chore Beodaw conjured out of thin air would stop her this time. There were greater things to do than marry one of the local boys, or enter the priestess order, or dust shelves and mix potions in the stifling back room of Beodaw’s store.

There was more to life than settling for mediocrity – Elianna was certain of it.

With her arms straight as planks by her side, and her fists clenched tightly, she briskly said, ‘You can’t make me stay! I refuse to stay in this prison a minute longer!’

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air.

‘Are you quite finished, my dear?’ he enquired, raising a curious eyebrow.

She blinked at him slowly and puckered her lips in reply.

Satisfied she had nothing more to add, he continued, ‘Good! I was going to say, Mathusal’ – he gave her a rapid blink of his eyes, implying not all things were about her – ‘could you take this to Bethyl in Whitehall for me?’

He handed a glass vial to Mathusal and chanced a look at her flushed face, his beard twitching as an amused smile played on his lips.

‘Sorry Papa. I thought…’ Her words fell away in an ashamed mumble as she examined her boots.

‘I know what you thought. You thought I’d change my mind and make you stay behind again.’

She nodded shamefully, her eyes downcast.

‘I do want you to stay behind,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

Opening her mouth to protest, his raised hand silenced her and he smiled kindly.

‘I do, of course! You’re my dearest granddaughter. However, you’re seventeen now, a grown woman by most counts, and I can’t avoid it forever. It’s time for you to put into practise what I’ve taught you or it’ll all be for nothing. I’d best get used to your absence anyway. You’ll leave me when a young man steals your heart!’

‘Or offers the highest dowry,’ Mathusal teased, knowing it was precisely the reason for her tetchiness.

Elianna rolled her eyes in reply.

‘If it were me, I’d settle for a few chickens, or maybe a goat,’ Mathusal advised, as he struck a match, lighting the cigar dangling from his lips.

He puffed on it looking thoughtful as smoke billowed from the side of his mouth.

‘Thankfully, you’re not in charge or I’d be sold off to Bert the cross eyed goat herder first chance you got!’ she said, smacking him playfully on the arm.

‘Ha! You could do a lot worse than old Bert! Like Lord Sarrin’s son!’

‘Don’t even speak of it! I’d rather marry a street beggar from Argoroth! What a nasty, gangly boy he is,’ she said, adding a retching sound.

Her eyes glanced over at the lord’s residence across the town square to the north side of the square. The grand hall of many marble pillars was an ostentatious building, well out of place in their humble harbour city of thatched rooves and wattle and daub houses – a shameless display of the riches Lord Sarrin had pilfered from the hardworking souls of Havenport, of which he had left them very little.

The thought of marrying Lord Sarrin’s son and enduring a life of domestic enslavement, sent chills running up her spine. To stay a child forever would be a better course, but immunity from time had eluded her, she had turned seventeen only a few days ago and that meant one of two things – marriage to a man, or to God.

By the laws of their Emperor, all Tantanese women, after turning seventeen, either married within three years, or entered a life of confinement and servitude as a priestess of the Holy Order of Arku – the Creator God. Though both options were bitterly unfair in Elianna’s opinion, the latter seemed more agreeable when faced with the chore of choosing a husband.

Over the past two days, young men, barely of age themselves, had bravely sauntered into the store with their chests puffed, attempting negotiations for her hand. With their tails between their legs, all prospective suitors scurried out of the store, dejected by her adamant and insulting refusals.

Rumour around town had it Lord Sarrin’s son, Gordy, was keenly preparing an offer for her hand. This news had lit a fire under her, making her even more ill-tempered than usual and their departure from Havenport all the more pressing.

It would not bode well for their family if she refused Gordy’s offer (which she had intended to do, as he was an arrogant boy, who she detested venomously).

‘And what one of these men would be worthy?’ Beodaw said, holding his arms out dramatically. ‘Not one in all this place!’

His voice echoed across the town square, directed at Lord Sarrin’s towering compound across the way.

A few townsfolk, going about their morning business, looked up from their chores.

Elianna giggled and implored him to stop, else he lose the Lords favour and gain a hefty tax increase.

‘Morning Errol!’ Beodaw said to the farrier, who was passing by, leading a horse.

Errol offered them a disapproving glare over his sallow cheeks, accompanied by an uncertain wave.

‘Going cheap, will swap sister for chickens, goats, or even a goose,’ Mathusal said, as the farrier scurried away, glaring at them over his shoulder.

Beodaw chortled into his beard, and said, ‘At least bargain for a better horse Mathusal! The nags are getting on a bit now.’

The nags in question, Nellie and Ruby, a mature pair of bay horses, glowered at him from under their long lashes, looking decidedly put out by his remark.

‘Don’t you listen to him ladies,’ Elianna clucked, giving the mares each a hearty pat. ‘He can’t talk, can he? He’s older than the hills.’

Ruby nickered softly, her wobbling lips nibbling at Elianna’s ear affectionately.

‘You can rest easy for the moment little one,’ said Beodaw, to allay her concern. ‘I would never wish upon you a loveless marriage in exchange for all the fortunes of the world, why I’d rather see you become a servant of Arku than marry a man you have no love for! Besides, you have three years yet, to make up your mind. I have taught you as much as I can, and now at last, it’s time for you to leave the walls of home and see what you make of the world, little one.’

Elianna smiled warmly at him. By no means was Beodaw a wealthy man, but he was comfortable enough to refuse handsome dowries, sparing her the agony of an incompatible match and allow her some time to come to terms with her inevitable adulthood.

Murmurs around town suggested Beodaw was waiting for a better proposition from Gordy. Why else would he refuse all other reasonable offers for his average granddaughter? None in Havenport would believe he was holding out for her happiness.

Beodaw’s attention drew back to the vial in his crooked fingers.

‘Give this to Bethyl. Three drops, twice a day with water. It will keep the fever down,’ he said, fixing his grandson with his sharp eyes. Mathusal reached for the vial, and Beodaw held it fast, a grim expression on his face.

‘Sunrise, sunset,’ he repeated, carefully. ‘If you forget, even once, the fever may take hold and there’s no telling what could happen then.’

Elianna rolled her eyes, it was boring when they waffled on like this, and she was far too eager to leave to waste any more precious time.

‘Sunrise, sunset, blah, blah, he gets it Papa!’ she moaned, pulling the vial from his hand and slapping it into her brothers. ‘Can we please go now?’

Mathusal stored the vial in his breast pocket, under his long leather surcoat and nodded at Beodaw.

‘Very well, then!’ Beodaw chirped, lifting his mood considerably. ‘Get going before your old papa makes a crying fool of himself.’

Elianna’s green eyes unexpectedly welled up with stinging tears and she blinked to keep them at bay. So preoccupied with the thought of him not letting her go; she had given no real thought to actually leaving. They wouldn’t return until the end of autumn, and it was now only three weeks into spring – he would be alone for months.

What if something happened to him? Who would run to the market to get his tobacco when his pipe was empty? Who would cover him with a blanket when he fell asleep in his favourite chair by the fire?

A pang of guilt twisted her stomach as she examined the deep wrinkles on his smiling face.

From her earliest memory, she had lived with Beodaw and her brother in the two-storey house behind the store in the town square. She had no memory of any other home but the one her grandfather had made. She couldn’t recall her mother, who died during her birth, or even her father, Beodaw’s son, who was killed during the Great Wari when she was just two years old.

Beodaw had always been there to protect them, to provide for them, and had cared generously for them. Yet, he was growing old, and his bones didn’t move as nimbly as they once did.

Catastrophic thoughts seeped into her mind, and she began to fidget and wring her hands, while her insides quietly did somersaults.

He was really letting her go this time.

‘Come with us Papa!’ she blurted, throwing herself into his arms and embracing him tightly. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind.

‘Oh, my precious girl, if only I could,’ he said with a sniff. ‘There’s much to do here, many are sick and need me. You’re my emissaries to the West, it’s up to you, and Mathusal to care of those who are too far to reach us, but need us nonetheless. Besides, you would never forgive me if I didn’t let you go.’

‘I’ll miss you dreadfully everyday Papa,’ she babbled through her streaming tears. She gave him a watery smile, embracing him again.

She had been thoughtless and mean, focusing only on his worst traits leading up to this morning and had disregarded his gentle and kind nature completely.

‘I have something for you,’ he said, sniffing. From his pocket, he pulled an amulet on a thin leather cord. ‘A talisman to protect you.’

She gasped with surprise, her eyes wide. At the end of the finely plaited leather, was a black obsidian stone shaped like an arrowhead.

‘The Raven Stone!’ she breathed with awe, hardly believing he would part with it. She had always wanted it, yearned for it – mostly because he had refused to let her have it.

Snatching it from him, she eyed the glistening stone greedily, turning it in her fingers. Etched into the flat of the stone, in writing so small, it was near impossible to read, was a song from the days of the Great War, one Beodaw had sung to her as a child. She didn’t need to read it though, she knew it by heart and recited it:

"To the west of the world, far away,

over tall mountains, where the black clouds lay.

Where fires dance and waters fly,

where the wind plays and the earth sighs.

Once there lived a mighty king,

who built a lofty house, on flaming wings.

A covenant with gods, a kingdom made,

moves swift as sand under swinging blades.

Raven wings do naught but fly,

and fly they did, through darkened sky.

Down came the house of lofty halls,

to the ruin of the king, to his own downfall.

Within the shadows, the king will weep,

bound by sorrow, while the fire sleeps.

Under stormy skies, the Guardian will sing,

calling forth her long lost king.

Beyond dark clouds, the child will call,

Save the king! Save them all!

Under dark shrouds, raven wings will soar,

and he who is lost, will hear the call.

Pure of heart the child will sing,

to redeem his soul, and save the king!

From the ashes, a new dawn will rise,

from the hand of death, delivered the ruler of seven tribes."

‘How you ever slept by that, is beyond me! What a miserable tale it is!’ said Mathusal.

He shook his head and went about packing the rest of the crates into the back of the cart, securing the canvas tarp over the load.

Elianna merely stuck her tongue out at him as she gave Beodaw another squeeze.

‘It’s a talisman, to protect you on your journey and bring you home safe. If Arku wills it,’ Beodaw said, glancing up at the sky.

‘Thank you, Papa,’ she said, happily, and she tucked the precious stone under her white linen shirt, beneath her woollen tunic dress. ‘Be well and eat enough please!’

‘There are plenty to keep me company and feed me. Don’t fret child.’

‘I know how you get when you’re working. You forget everything, especially food!’

‘Come on ya big baby!’ said Mathusal, grabbing her arm and pulling her from Beodaw’s grip.

Mathusal all but threw her onto the cart – he wasn’t much for sentimental scenes.

‘Silly girl! Doesn’t know what she wants. Stay or go, go or stay! Impatient to leave and then blubbering when it’s time to!’

Beodaw placed a firm hand on Mathusal’s shoulder, and turned his back to Elianna, who was settling into her seat, fidgeting with the reins.

He offered up another vial, the same as the other, though the liquid within was thick like honey.

‘Take two vials, just in case. This one’s ten times the concentrate, use much less, you understand, but if something should happen’ – he glanced over his shoulder at Elianna – ‘to set her off, use one drop of this, two if you must.’

Mathusal nodded and took the extra vial.

They both looked up at Elianna, now distracted by conversation with Mrs Norbanathy, their plump housekeeper, who had come out onto the street to fuss over her and say farewell.

Cold dread chilled Beodaw’s skin as he studied his granddaughter.

‘Only the great God Arku knows what might provoke her,’ Beodaw said, sighing deeply and biting his lip.

‘You should just tell her about the Elder Stone and be done with it,’ Mathusal said in a hushed voice. ‘How long are we to live this lie of worshipping the false god Arku? Eventually, she must learn the truth about the Raven Stone, her gift and the ones who gave it to her.’

‘Gift?’ he spluttered. ‘It seems a cruel joke played by those pesky Elder Seven gods and goddesses to grant such a gift to such an innocent girl.’

‘The more you suppress her power, the worse it will be.’

‘No, she must never know who she really is,’ he said, choking on his words. ‘I can’t bring myself to tell her what blood is in her veins. Absolutely not! She should never know. Let her be, to have what normal life is left to her away from all those prophecies and war. And there’s to be no talk of the Elder Seven.’

‘You’re only delaying the inevitable,’ Mathusal warned.

‘Make your way swiftly and return her to me safely. She can have her adventure, then she will marry Lord Sarrin’s son.’

Mathusal’s eyebrows peaked.

‘What would you have me do?’ countered Beodaw.

‘I could take her to Chief Rashaan.’

‘NO!’ Beodaw said, his voice bouncing off the cobblestone and startling Elianna and Mrs Norbanathy. He lowered his voice to an urgent hiss. ‘Stay within the Imperial borders and steer clear of the Masiri lands.’

‘But Papa, Chief Rashaan is your oldest friend.’

‘And that’s precisely why you mustn’t take her there. The old rascal will fill her head with his Elder Seven worshipping nonsense and revel in unravelling my plans!’

‘He could help her. Rashaan will know if her destiny is set. Maybe the course of her fate has changed. Rashaan will know what to do, will know how to help her.’

‘And fill her head with his wishy washy nonsense about the septet of gods the Masiri are so fond of. No thank you very much. It’ll do no good in the end if she gets those ideas in her head.’

Mathusal sighed, wearily, conceding to Beodaw’s request.

‘Make haste where you can and be safe! Keep an eye on the Raven Stone, it may… change her now she has it close. Take care of her and yourself my dear boy.’

His insides twisted with despair and Mathusal’s expression softened.

‘All will be well Papa. It’s a well-used trading route and during spring, it’s no more than a pleasant ride through rolling green hills. We’ll be back before you have a chance to even miss us.’

Beodaw sighed heavily, deep in thought, and said, ‘Don’t go further than the Western Slopes. And stay well away from the Western Desert. The Raven King might sense her.’

‘You are haunted by nothing more than the ghosts of the past. The King of Argoroth has been dead for fifteen years. The Empire destroyed him at the end of the Great War and unless the Raven King has power over death, then you’re only chasing shadows, Papa. She has come of age. She must go. Let her breathe for once, at least before she has to suffer a lifetime of marriage. The only thing sneaking around after her is Lord Sarrin’s son.’

‘Do you have weapons?’ Beodaw asked, suddenly.

‘Aye Papa. Sword and crossbow.’

‘Good, good,’ he answered, distantly, glancing at Elianna again. She beamed down at him and he offered her a smile as best he could, despite the troubles plaguing his mind.

‘You can’t keep her prisoner forever. No more than you can stop a flame from being fire.’

‘It’s the fire I fear the greatest. Never let her out of your sight,’ he said, with wide pleading eyes, gripping Mathusal’s jacket tightly.

‘Honestly Papa! You worry too much!’

‘I shall miss you both!’ he cried, embracing his grandson.

‘Don’t get all mushy on me, old man,’ mumbled Mathusal, awkwardly.

Elianna watched the intense but muted exchange and eyed her brother smugly.

‘Softy,’ she snickered.

Mathusal, six years older than her, thought himself to be rather worldly these days, having travelled all about the Empire on Beodaw’s business since he was sixteen.

‘Shut it,’ he ordered. ‘We have a long way to go and a long way until home again. Don’t start getting all lippy or I’ll send you back to Papa in chains!’

He climbed aboard the cart and Elianna handed him the reins, vowing to be on her best behaviour.

Nellie and Ruby started forward slowly, and the wooden cartwheels groaned. Beodaw walked beside the cart, looking up at her.

‘Have everything you need, my dear?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘Water? A book? Blankets? Your coat?’ he said, rattling off a long list.

‘I packed and unpacked my trunk a hundred times over by your list,’ she told him, exasperated.

‘Best behaviour Elianna,’ reminded Beodaw, his eyes firm under bushy brows, with a waggling finger pointed at her.

‘Of course,’ she said, agreeing with a serious nod, though her grin was broad.

She reached her hand out for him and he took it. His eyes were wet and filled with worry. The horses picked up their pace and the cart clattered along the cobblestone.

‘Be good to all, be kind to many, and watch that smart mouth of yours,’ he said, quickening his step to keep up as they gained speed.

There was no point in him trying to match it and he let go of her hand. She swivelled in her seat, keeping her eyes on her beloved papa.

‘And whatever you do, don’t get distracted!’ he cried.

He raised his hand in a solemn farewell as the chilly morning sea breeze rustled the many folds of his robe.

They trotted through the town square as she bellowed her farewells, waving frantically, as Beodaw grew smaller in her eyes. People in the town square laughed and waved them off, some matching her enthusiasm.

From the Lord’s compound, a gangly young man, with pasty white skin and copper hair, stepped out into the town square – it was Gordy, Lord Sarrin’s son.

Elianna stopped waving, knowing he had caught sight of them.

The cart turned a corner, and regretfully Beodaw was lost from her sight, but thankfully, so was Gordy.

She stared down the narrow street behind them for a moment, as a sob caught in her throat and it occurred to her that she had never left Beodaw’s side before – though she thought, it was to her good fortune she had escaped the leering interest of the Lord’s son.

Plonking herself back on the cushioned bench, she wiped the corners of her eyes with the hem of her dress, her heart sinking deep into her stomach with each brittle turn of the cartwheels.

‘He’ll be fine,’ said Mathusal, reassuringly, as he stubbed out the remains of his cigar on the underside of the wooden bench seat.

‘You’re used to being away from home,’ she said, dully, looking over her shoulder again.

Mathusal glanced at her tear stained face and his expression softened a little.

‘Adventure lies ahead, Ellie. Home will be the last thing on your mind, you’ll see.’

She smiled uncertainly in reply and focused on the road ahead. The Western Gates were approaching, looming over her like the slack jaw of a giant beast intent on swallowing her whole. She played with the Raven Stone, turning it in her fingers.

Now she was come to it, she wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to leave – if only to stay behind and care for Beodaw of course. He wouldn’t cope without her but Gordy was skulking about, and she couldn’t outrun him indefinitely.

She just had it in her mind to tell Mathusal to stop the cart and turn around when the gates zipped overhead. The local Imperial guards didn’t even give them as second glance as they passed by.

Looking back at the gates, her determined resolve to leave Havenport dissolved as quickly as Mrs Norbanathy’s shortbread biscuits in a hot cup of tea.

From the inside, the walls seemed an unyielding barrier to the outside world, denying her a life of adventure. Yet, as they pulled away from the only place she had ever known, those walls unexpectedly seemed a refuge, a sanctuary, safe from the perils of the unknown.

‘Wait!’ she cried, her heart jolting.

‘What now!’

‘I forgot to say goodbye to the sea,’ she said, desperately, standing in the footholds, hoping to catch a glimpse of it before they headed further inland. There was nothing to see but the receding walls of Havenport and the tops of trees or rolling hills.

‘Oh, for the love of,’ sighed Mathusal.

‘I’ve never left it before. I just want to see it one last time.’

‘There’ll be plenty of rivers along the way, sit down before you fall off.’

He tugged at her arm and pulled her back onto the seat.

‘It’s not the same,’ she sighed, her heart feeling as if a hundred horses had trampled it.

As the road curved around a hillock to the North West, Mathusal nudged her gently with his elbow, and pointed.

To the east, the rolling green pastures, dotted with lines of trees and farm houses, sloped away into Havenport Harbour, where the tall sails of many trading ships from near and far filled the docks. Beyond the harbour, the ocean reached out to the pale morning sky before falling away over the horizon. Beside the harbour, nestled into the bay, was Havenport and its many thatched rooves looked unimpressive from afar and its walls less unscaleable. It seemed so small from a distance; it was hard to believe she had spent her whole life there.

‘Home,’ she said, quietly.

‘Home,’ he repeated, distantly, as he too, took in the sight of the familiar landscape. ‘Remember it, Ellie, because you will long for it in the end despite your grumbling about it now. Whatever grand adventures you go on, you’ll see, there’s nothing quite like the sight of home on the horizon.’

Elianna stared at her brother bewildered by his deep pondering. He gave a laugh and shrugged his shoulders.

‘Will you look at that,’ said Mathusal, a hint of disappointment in his voice, distracting her from the thoughts of home and sea.

On the side of the road a short sturdy man in a black jacket, and a thin wispy fellow with scraggily blonde locks, were wandering down the road away from the gate. They were singing loudly and incoherently, having what appeared to be a marvellous time.

Their legs, unreliable, staggered back and forth, in front of the cart, away from the cart, into to each other, and then in front of the cart again.

Mathusal slowed the wagon as they drew near the two bumbling men.

The blonde man tipped his floppy hat at them.

The short man tripped on a rut in the road and stumbled into Ruby’s side. The mare jerked with surprise and shooed the man with a nudge of her long nose.

The drunken man refused the dismissal and instead, he threw an arm over the horse’s neck and began cooing at her.

Elianna pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh.

‘Stop harassing my horse, Jotha, you drunk fool,’ said Mathusal, tersely.

Jotha swung around, pirouetting on his feet and lost his balance. His lanky companion caught him under the arms but with neither having any sense of equilibrium, they toppled over and into the mud.

Jotha’s small black eyes squinted at them, and then his face broke into a crooked smile

‘Mathusal ya old dog! Doin’ the rounds again eh?’ he slurred, through his scraggly, black beard.

Despite his garbled speech, Elianna picked his accent, which was harsh and biting, unlike the smooth accent of Havenport.

‘Aye,’ replied Mathusal. ‘Are you heading home to Iron Gorge?’

‘Aye. I came in on an ore run but me master’s headin’ to tha Capital by ship and I hafta make me own way home.’

‘We can take you as far as Whitehall. Climb aboard,’ said Mathusal.

Elianna gawked at her brother, aghast he would entertain the idea of having this drunken buffoon join their journey.

Nellie and Ruby both turned their heads and glared at Mathusal. Elianna sensed even the horses were unimpressed having to cart more folk around, especially such a sturdy fellow as Jotha.

‘Much obliged old friend,’ said Jotha. He waved his drunken companion farewell and the wispy man wandered off into a field, and swayed his way toward a farmhouse over a nearby hillock.

After four wobbling attempts, Jotha finally heaved himself off the cartwheel, and over the side railing. He swayed dangerously as he squeezed between the crates in back and sidled up behind Elianna.

The pungent odour of ale and fish wafted past her nostrils and she gagged.

‘Ullo,’ Jotha said, looking surprised to see her sitting there. ‘Who’s this then?’

‘Jotha, Elianna,’ said Mathusal, making the introduction short.

Jotha wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and added an unattractive leer. He went crossed eyed, and then pursed his lips, blowing air kisses in her direction. He closed his eyes, and rubbed his stomach as a gurgling sound rose within him. Letting out a long burp, he grinned at her, as if she too should enjoy his unexpected eructation as much as he did.

Turning her back on him, she scrunched her face up with revulsion.

‘Disgusting,’ she hissed.

Mathusal finished his introduction with a stern warning in his voice, ‘Elianna, my sister.’

Jotha looked even more surprised and cleared his throat, tipping his head politely, which made him wobble on his knees.

‘A pleasure to meet ya kind lady,’ he said,