Chapter 5: Friends from the Streets are Friends in Kind
‘Oh my, look at you!’ Mistress Wither drops a cloth and clasps her hand to her open mouth until she recovers from the surprise of seeing me. ‘Come, come let himself set eyes on you, it will do him good.’
In the gleaming bronze of our lamps I see the dark figure whom she finds so extraordinary. Carefully measured and fitted in black leather armour, sword at my side, I am no longer a fledgling. Even as I had walked home through the streets of Crumblin I had felt the silence. The grinder who ceased to spin his wheel; the children who ceased to chase each other; the three cheesemakers who, one after the other, ceased to churn; the girls on the corner who ceased their talk. Who were they looking at? Crow. But Crow as they had never seen me before. A more dangerous crow, the predatory kind that anticipate the chance of swooping down to a juicy eyeball.
‘Who is this?’ mutters Cathaldus, setting down his quill. Does he really not know his foster son Crow? That he speaks in jest is revealed next with a (feeble) punch to my chest. ‘Now here’s a hero who can save us. I believe in you Crow. Never forget that. When you feel down and out. When you are exhausted. When the road seems endless. Remember me, remember us. You are a smart lad. You will find a way to go on. We will be thinking of you every day and I will lead our people in prayers to Lord Scrithax to aid you.’
Rarely do we hug but we do so now and when we part, I see Mistress Wither is dabbing her retrieved cloth to her eyes.
‘When do you leave?’ she asks.
‘Dawn at the west gate. I go by carriage and horse; with Sorceress Lisandra I set my course.’
‘Well, a carriage, I’m proud of you.’
Cathaldus adds, ‘Lisandra was born in Crumblin. I remember her as a girl.’ Wincing as his hips bring pain from age, he gathers a tome and searches until he finds the page. ‘Here we are. To Mistress Tarellas, fortune teller, is born a daughter, Lisandra. May Lord Scrithax bless her.’
Although I feel glad to know Lisandra is one of our kind, I do not want to pry into her private mind. Perhaps she has a new life in the castle and her past she denies.
‘I’ll make a pack of food for you Crow,’ says Mistress Wither.
I tip my head to her in thanks.
‘Pack plenty of peas. He’ll never fill that armour without plenty of peas.’ Cathaldus will not let me return the tome to its place on the shelf, struggling to get it there himself. ‘Go to your bed early tonight. Questing is tiring. Sleep whenever you can and for as long as you can.’
‘First, I must quicky run down the street, there is someone important I must meet.’
‘Go ahead then.’
Out on the cobbles, again I find my place in the world has changed. Looks of wonder and concern replace the former greetings at every turn, and while I feel a certain pride I hurry past with lengthy stride. I reach the house wherein is Belle determined to say goodbye and wish her well.
After my knock, footsteps approach. Two people.
The door opens but a little. ‘Who is there?’
‘My lady Aria can’t you see? It is Crow who stands before thee.’
To my relief, surprise defeats antipathy and Mistress Aria opens the door wider for a better look. With a grin and a turn, I provide a strut.
‘I leave in the morning for our city’s cause and am here to thank Belle for her support.’
‘I’ll tell her.’ And quickly does the small woman shut the door.
Not quick enough to stop me calling to the shadows beyond, ‘Belle! Belle! Crow says farewell.’
Taking two steps back, I look up at a window in hope. And there she is, the most beautiful girl in Nekis, pushing open the glass frame and parting her dark curls to look at me with eyes that shine.
‘Crow! I can hardly believe it. You look so threatening. Not a bit like the boy I knew. The Necromancer must have approved your mission.’
From behind, her mother clomps up the stairs. ‘Come away from there Belle! Come away right now young woman!’
‘When are you leaving?’
‘At dawn.’
‘So soon? And from where?’
‘The west gate.’
‘Safe travels Crow. I will be praying for you.’
‘With you in my breast…’ The window is pulled shut and drawn curtains quickly block my view. ‘I will always be blessed.’
Words that are lost to Belle but I am glad to have spoken them.
***
Dawn. And a pink glow through a mist of drizzle. The city is quiet, which makes a snort from one of the two black horses attached to the carriage sound alarming. Respectfully, a young servant takes my two bags – packed for me by Mistress Wither – and stows them on the top of the impressive vehicle.
The door of the carriage is open and from within, the sorceress Lisandra beckons me.
‘There you are.’ She pats the velvet seat facing backwards, her heavy body filling the entire seat opposite. There must be wonder on my face, for she smiles and says, ‘you’ve never been in a carriage have you? This is the Necromancer’s own.’
She expects a response of admiration and I tell her most sincerely that I have never seen the like: the polished wood; the gilt decorations. Such a means of travel is far above my usual station.
‘We can leave now Gerard,’ she calls before closing the door.
‘Walk on!’ cries the coachman and with a lurch we move. I feel a sway and hear the clopping sound of iron horseshoes on cobbles, as well as the creaks of the carriages frame.
‘Wait! Wait for me,’ I recognise the voice and my spirit ignites with a joy I have not ever felt before.
‘What do you want?’ Lisandra looks out of the window, more curious than angry.
‘I’m Crow’s friend. I want to come with you.’
Belle is alongside and the carriage has stopped.
‘Are you sure you know what you are about, young woman?’
‘Sorceress, I tell no lie, I have wanted to be an adventurer and travel from the day I was born. I never had the chance because of my mother’s plan to marry me to a noble at the court.’
‘Well then, come inside. We’ve enough room and I’m no hypocrite. I ran away from home at your age too.’
A delightful sway as she climbs the step and then beautiful Belle is sitting beside Crow, our legs touching. For once there is no Mistress Aria to prevent us speaking as we please. So of course we say nothing.
When the carriage resumes its rocking motion, I feel Belle rub against my shoulder, elbow and hip and that feeling is met with such intensity of response from my body that I hardly attend to the conversation. Belle is answering questions about herself and, seemingly satisfied, Lisandra leans back.
‘One last question: do you have a class?’
‘Not yet. I’m still Level Zero.’
‘That might prove useful. What class were you thinking of choosing, if you get the opportunity?’
‘One that credits my dancing experience, so I’ll get a head start with dance as a skill. Like shadowdancer, bard, or monk.’
‘Shadowdancer might suit you, but it overlaps a lot with rogue. Bard however, would be very useful. There will be many a night when we are in a strange land when to be able to entertain strangers might make all the difference to our safety.’
And they continue to talk over the options for Belle, once she gets to choose a class. This will happen if she performs a task that gains her EXP. Such as the rescue of the lost child that began my own journey.
What do I see when I watch the sorceress speak? She finds it hard to get comfortable, the seat is not quite wide enough for her large body and without even noticing, she is trying different positions, leaning to the corners and raising a heavy leg. Her lips prefer to turn up than down; a smile is more frequent than a frown. Her eyes are lively, often turning to mine to make me complicit in the conversation, even though I say nothing, my body filled with constant elation.
When, at last, Belle ceases to speak Lisandra waits. She sighs. She shifts her thighs. Seemingly uncomfortable with just listening to the creaking carriage and the pattern of hoof falls, the sorceress rummages in a bag.
‘Knowing Crumblin as I do, I doubt you two got much of an education. Do you even know what our world looks like?’
‘A square with twenty-five realms, one for each god,’ says Belle with confidence.
I nod.
‘Right. How many of them can you name?’
‘Southway,’ says Belle. ‘They’ve taken our farms.’
Lisandra looks at me. I say, ‘Jomskar, whose ships sail far.’
Back to Belle. ‘Trolland.’
‘Those are the easy ones, our neighbours. And all our enemies, unfortunately. Which other realms can you name?’
‘Snowfell Peaks, where the king of the dragon sleeps.’ I am eager to see this famous mountain range.
‘And the final goal of our quest.’
I am ready to name more realms – having been brought up by Cathaldus, I know them all and all their gods – but Lisandra brandishes a pieces of parchment and passes it to Belle, who shares it with me.
‘The twenty-five realms, twenty-four gods. Each god has a quest within their realm, a test. When we solve a quest, we get a dragon tooth as a reward. If we bring all twenty-four teeth to the king of the dragons, he will serve us and we will save our kingdom and everyone we care for.
‘My plan is for us to go east to the Arkine Empire. Then work through each column in turn, so north until Shadow, then from Greyland to Trolland, home and north to Zorland, down to Jomskar and up to Kezatka.’
‘I’ve heard that the people of Underworld are vampires,’ says Belle.
‘I believe that to be true of some of them.’
I shake my head.
‘Do you know otherwise Crow?’
‘Your route, it’s not the best; true it gives us a rest. But to climb Snowfell Peaks is to walk in snow and ice, best not done once, let alone twice. And to finish in Fahim leaves us far away; better to adopt a plan with less of a delay.’
Lisandra gives a shrug. ‘The less travelling the better, as far as I’m concerned. What route do you suggest?’
I move around the parchment with my finger.
‘Wait. I don’t understand.’ The sorceress opens a case with ink, parchment and charcoal. ‘Draw it.’ A piece of charcoal comes my way.
Because the carriage sways so much, I cannot be as neat as I’d like. All the same, Lisandra raises her eyebrows in wonderment when I’m done. Gently, she takes the map from me and holds it close to her face.
‘I see. I see. Indeed. It makes sense. Clever even. But this means we must start here, with our own quest set by Lord Scrithax. Perhaps that’s for the best.’
Swinging open the door – cold, wet rain patterns the floor – the sorceress calls out. ‘Stop the carriage Gerard, we have a change of destination.’
‘Stopping ma’am.’
And slowly the horses ease up until all is quiet. No more creaking. No more hooves. Just a whisper from a light wind that carries the mist across our carriage. The vehicle lurches and there is a knock.
Lisandra opens the door. Standing before it, damp in their long, hooded capes are the two servants.
‘What is our new destination ma’am?’ asks the older man, a grey-bearded figure, short and strong.
‘The Pike.’
‘The Pike it is.’ He looks over his shoulder. ‘That ground’s not suitable for a turn. I’ll go on a while until it is.’
‘We are in your hands Gerard.’
Gerard nods, more solemn in style than Lisandra, who spoke with a smile. To close the door he goes.
‘Wait,’ who speaks? Only Crow. ‘I don’t mind the rain, lend me your cape and our places let’s exchange.’ I’m looking at the younger servant.
‘Oh, no sir, that wouldn’t be right,’ he replies.
‘My name is Crow and a rapscallion I be, kings and lords mean nothing to me. But my friends from the streets are friends in kind, so take my seat and let me ride behind. At least for a while, then we swap again; a crow inside its wings does not suffer the rain.’
‘Lord Scrithax bless us!’ Lisandra slaps her ample thigh. ‘Crow is right. Let’s not be lords and ladies, servants and maids. We’ve a dangerous journey ahead, all of us, together. And a long one. Let’s be friends. Come on in young man. Lend your cape to Crow. That’s it. What’s your name?’
‘Aarax, ma’am.’
‘Try again, only this time, call me Lisandra. What’s your name?’
‘Aarax, Miss Lisandra.’
‘Nearly.’
‘Lisandra?’
‘That’s it.’
I really don’t mind the rain and my body feels even more warmth when Belle leans out to call up to me as I climb to the back seat, ‘just knock, Crow, when you want to swap. I’ll take my turn there too.’
***
More cover ideas! Most in fun but the crow silhouette is quite good I think:
