CHAPTER 8
A knock sounded at Layna's bedroom door, and she hurried to answer it with a smile. The smile faded when she saw that it was Aaron standing there, a servant who had repeatedly displayed his interest in her, and who unfortunately was also the object of Katrina’s affection.
“Expecting someone else?” he asked.
Layna flushed in embarrassment, but he didn’t give her time to come up with an excuse.
“May I come in for a minute?”
Layna wanted nothing more than to tell him that now was not a good time, but the look on his face was more serious than usual, not his normal crooked grin in his attempt to be charming. So instead, she opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. He stepped inside, taking a moment to look around her small room, and she closed the door behind him and then simply stood, looking at him expectantly.
“Look, Layna, I know you’re not interested in me,” Layna flushed again and wished that she had told him she was busy, “but I wanted to warn you not to get yourself hurt.” She raised her eyebrows with wide eyes, uncertain what he was talking about. He simply gave her a stern look. “There’s been talk among the servants of you spending an inordinate amount of time with the lord staying here.” He paused and waited for her to respond, but when she remained silent he sighed. “I really don’t want to see you hurt, but I know these types. He’ll tell you all sorts of silly things that girls want to hear and then he’ll end up breaking your heart once he gets what he wants from you. And worse, he’ll probably tell Lady Jezebel about you and you’ll end up fired – or worse.”
Despite her initial flare of annoyance, Layna did pause to think for a minute, and the voice in the back of her mind took full advantage of her moment of weakness to run down all of the horrible things that it had imagined could possibly come of her secret friendship. If word was getting out among the servants, where gossip was like wildfire, there was no telling how far the stories had spread – or what they had turned into.
“Thanks, Aaron,” she said simply, but he didn’t look satisfied.
“Nobles don’t court the lower class. They use us, and that’s it.”
“He’s not at all like –“
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, “It just doesn’t happen. Whatever fantasy you’re expecting in your head can’t happen in real life. You will get hurt, one way or another.” His shoulders slumped in defeat, realizing that he wasn’t going to get any more agreement out of her than she already had. “Just be careful okay?”
“I will,” she promised and hurriedly changed the subject before he could push it any further. “Hey, have you seen Katrina lately?”
“The pretty girl that’s always hovering in the corner in the kitchen?”
Katrina loved to cook, though it wasn’t part of her job, and in her free time she often stayed to help the real cook come up with new recipes. Layna couldn’t wait to tell her that he called her pretty.
“Yeah, she wanted to ask you about getting some herbs for teas…” Layna made up a little white lie, if Katrina couldn’t bring herself to break the ice, perhaps Aaron would. And Katrina really does like making teas, someday she’ll thank me…Aaron happened to be in charge of the greenhouse and loved it; if someone showed an interest in his work he could go on for hours about it – a polite mistake she had once made herself.
“Really?” His eyes lit up with curiosity and Layna bit back a smile.
After planting the seed to hopefully spark his interest with a couple of other remarks about Katrina’s interest in cooking, she ushered him out the door.
She sighed and picked up the project that she had abandoned, staring at it in thought. It was a gift for Gryffon, an armband to protect his forearm from the bowstring when he shot. She had thought it would be a nice gesture, a return favor for the charm, but now Aaron’s words were disturbing. She had hoped that no one had noticed their stolen moments, meeting him at the stables rather than leaving the manor together and such, but apparently they had been more obvious than she had thought. Now what am I to do? She wasn’t as concerned about Gryffon being like the other nobles, she knew him better than that – or at least she thought she did – but if people were noticing, that meant that Jezebel could notice. And no matter what the situation really was between her and Gryffon, what mattered was what Jezebel might think of it. And what Jezebel might think of it spelled trouble for Layna. Gryffon may be able to get away with inappropriate comments to her and about her, but Layna at least had enough good sense left to realize that she would be afforded no such courtesy.
Another knock sounded at her door and Layna deflated, setting her work aside to go tell Aaron that she really was, in fact, taking him seriously. She was surprised when it turned out to be Gryffon, wearing a wide grin on his face. His smile was infectious and she returned it with sincerity, though she would have been happier to see him before her visitor, and perhaps not in her room which was only bound to fuel the more illicit stories.
“Are you up for a little tour around?” he asked her.
Her mind whirled, finally settling on a compromise. She would agree to today, but it would have to be the last, she’d bring it up with him on the way. “I’d love to,” she replied finally, hoping he didn’t notice the hesitance in her voice. She stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her so he didn’t come inside.
“Excellent,” he beamed, “I need to pick up something in town, so I was hoping you'd like to go for a little shopping trip.”
Layna laughed. “Not that I have all that much to spend, but I do love to look!”
“I’ll stop by my room to grab my things and meet you at the stables?” he asked, and she nodded.
They saddled up the usual horses and started the trek to town, falling easily into conversation. Gryffon seemed to have a never-ending supply of knowledge, and on the rare occasion that he didn't know something, he admitted it rather than making something up. It was a trait that Layna found refreshing. Layna picked up a thread of conversation that they had been discussing during their last outing, deciding that her bad news could wait until later.
“Why is it that in ancient ballads and stories, magic was predominant in society, and now there are very few great talents?”
Gryffon considered the question before replying. “Well, there is always the time factor.” When Layna looked at him quizzically, he explained. “Stories become exaggerated over time, so it's hard to tell the truth behind ancient stories. But I, for one, do believe that there was more magic around. There are too many remnants of its past power surviving in spells, and even though I blame the priests for suppressing a lot of the talent that there is today, I still think that there used to be even more of us around. Do you know much about the histories about the Dark Age?”
“They didn't spend much time teaching us history in farm girl or maid school,” she said wryly. “I have read some of the books on it in the library though. Enough that I know that the Dark King somehow became popular despite his twisted ideas, and eventually gained enough support that he elevated himself to god-like status. He explained to the people that he was preparing for the Sleeping God's return, but those close to him reported that he believed he was the god himself. That's when he started massacring all those who he didn't believe fit his definition of an ideal person. I'm not at all clear on the purpose or reasons that he killed the ones he did – I mean what made them unworthy in his eyes.”
Gryffon nodded to her, obviously impressed by the amount of knowledge that she did have on the subject, which sent a glow of happiness through Layna. “I'm not sure that anyone can give you a reason for his actions, at least not any sane one, but they said that he was a very powerful mage who got that way by turning to blood-magic. Many believe that the power corrupted his mind and made him mad. The reason I mention it is that many of the people he considered to be unfit for the continuance of the human race were those who were also very powerful
mages. Conveniently, these were also the ones most likely and able to oppose him.”
Layna made a sound of acknowledgment as she chewed on this information. “Can you explain to me what exactly blood-magic is?”
“Remember how I told you that in order to do a spell you have to open yourself to the power and that in order to do some of the more complicated ones you had to have enough talent and enough power had to be available in order to do it?”
She nodded. “I'm not sure if I ever fully understood the part about it not being available though.” She scrunched up her nose, trying to recall their previous conversation. “I remember you saying something about the priests not teaching you some spells either because you didn't have enough talent or there wasn't enough talent available, but I don't think you ever explained that last part.”
“Okay. Let's go back to that for a minute then. To do a spell that requires a lot of energy you have to be able to open yourself to enough power, that is, be a high enough talent to handle it. More importantly, that power has to be available. Power is just like any other feature of the landscape, in some places there is more of it than in others. And, the more that get used up in a certain area, the less of it will be there.”
“So are there places where there is no power because it's been used up?”
“Yes and no. If you use up all of the power in an area it will be temporarily gone, but it will eventually fill back in to its natural amount. It's kind-of like water in a pond. You can splash all of the water out of a section if you're really fast, but it will flow back in from the rest of the pond to fill the void. And, just like a pond is refilled by rain, the power is replenished by life energy. All living things give off power, whether they are talents that are able to use it or not. With me so far?”
“I think so.”
“Mages who turn to blood-magic don't wait for the natural course of energy to seep out of a living being. They rip it from them.”
Layna's eyes widened. “That doesn't sound pleasant.”
“No. In order for a lot of the energy to be released, you have to kill the creature. Supposedly there are less severe forms of blood-magic where the mage can just drain a small amount of blood from his victim or inflict a non-life threatening wound, or even use his own blood to store magic for later use and such. But, it certainly seems to me that those lesser forms of it would simply be a stepping-stone to more sadistic magic once they’ve tasted the power and realize that by just going one step farther they can increase the amount exponentially. The more pain that is inflicted, the more power you get. Luckily, there are specific spells that the mage would have to know in order to capture the energy, the knowledge of which, as far as I know, was lost. Good riddance.”
“Is that what the book burnings were for?”
“It's hard to say,” Gryffon answered evasively. “Since the burnings were very thorough, we really have no idea the amount or content of knowledge that was lost. But it was certainly the original purpose. The rebels who overthrew the King were justifiably terrified of blood-magic and were the ones who initiated the burnings. There were no confirmed reports, but it was also thought that the Dark King's Bloodguard secretly participated in a lot of the burnings as well.”
“The Bloodguard? Wasn't that the Dark King's personal body guard? Why would they burn them?”
“It's thought that the Dark King was doing more to the ones he called the unworthy then just eradicating them. There are rumors that he was experimenting on them, and using them for all sorts of other atrocities. It's possible that the Bloodguard took advantage of the fires to destroy any evidence of whatever other horrible things the King had been doing before they were ousted as well.”
“What happened to them?” Layna asked.
“They were hunted down and forced to disband. They were then sentenced to punishments appropriate to their alleged actions, depending on how involved they happened to be. It's recorded that one of the leaders was whipped with 500 lashes, put on the rack, dragged behind a horse, burned, and then finally his ashes were thrown into the sewers. And this was after they tortured him for information. The details of his crimes were never publicly released. We can only imagine what monstrosities he must have committed to have been sentenced so harshly.”
Layna wrinkled her nose in disbelief; both of the heinous punishment, as well as the thought of the kinds of things he must have done to others to have been thought to have deserved such a grisly death. “What happened to the Dark King?”
“He was never given a trial, at least not formally. A bloody revolt ended in the storming of his castle. The crazed mob found him, tried him, and sentenced him to death on the spot. His body was torn apart by their rage after he had been beheaded. It was buried in five separate spots so that he could never reanimate and wreak any more havoc on the land. It's said that his Bloodguard secretly dug up the remains and buried them together in a hidden location though. His two sons were spared because of their innocent youth and the pleading of their mother, who had not been politically inclined. Eventually they made a pact to end the bloodline so that their father's madness would not be passed through any more generations. Interestingly, one brother died young while fighting in a battle, and the other killed himself soon after.”
Layna was quiet for a moment before asking, “What happened with Treymayne? Before the Dark Age we were all one big country, right?”
“We were,” he acknowledged. “Like with most things, those who are different from ourselves are often the ones first ostracized. The eastern part of the country – what now is Treymayne – was somewhat separated already by the mountain range and the river, so they had a very different culture despite being unified as a country. So, I suppose that in the King's mind, who better to start with when you are performing a cleansing of the human race than those who have a different culture, and who you don't entirely understand. Lack of understanding leads to fear. When powerful men fear something, they don’t usually just let it be. Apparently, after the revolt Treymayne decided that having its borders open left them vulnerable, and I guess they've never rethought it since. They erected the magical barrier, and there it stands today.” Fly swished his tail and it whipped Layna smartly in the leg. “But anyway, that may or may not be a viable reason for why there is so much less magic around today. It is at least a possibility, as talent seems to be a trait that is passed from generation to generation. If you kill off all those who could pass it on, you won't see that trait anymore.”
Layna nodded thoughtfully at him, and they both fell silent.
After a short while Gryffon spoke again. “So what is it that’s bothering you?” he asked her, “We’ve been touching on every subject but the one I can tell is eating you alive.”
“You’re too observant for your own good,” she told him, chewing on her lip. She had been trying to come up with a way to bring up the subject of the risk of their outings, but hadn’t yet come up with a good way to do it. “Aaron, one of the other servants, came to see me today…” she started, but he cut in.
“Oh? And do we like this Aaron?” he asked her, a bit too casually.
“No,” she replied definitively, and wondered if the emotion that had flashed across Gryffon’s face had been pleasure or if it was simply her imagination. “No, he stopped by to say that people were talking, about us, and that the speculations of why we are spending time together are already circulating around.”
“So what?” Gryffon shrugged, “Let them talk. What are they going to do?”
Layna bristled a bit, for the first time with Gryffon being keenly aware of the class difference between them. “Whatever they want, sir,” she added the formality to remind him, “to me at least. There’re no few stories of servants going missing when they’ve displeased the lady. And I’d say it would greatly displease her to hear some of the stories that are bound to be concocted about us.” She flushed, “If I may be so b
old as to say so.”
Gryffon looked angry, his brow had furrowed in thought, and Layna looked away, worried about his response. “You can say anything you want to me,” he said, his voice tight with anger but at his next words Layna was relieved to realize it was not directed at her. “But you’re right, that worthless piece of slim that calls herself a lady is deceptively evil.” He fell silent once more, a look of brooding on his face. She was about to apologize for having brought up the subject when he spoke again. “I’ve been terribly selfish, I hope that you’ll accept my apology.” He glanced over at her with such a look of concern on his face that she simply nodded. “You’re absolutely right, I should never have put you in this situation. Of course it’s not safe for you. Jezebel thinks she owns me and she doesn’t know how to share. I was so busy just enjoying your company that I completely overlooked the bigger picture.” Layna didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Gryffon urged Axe closer to Fly and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I hope you can still enjoy today, but I promise that after that I won’t put you in danger any longer. Though I’ll admit that I’ll probably try and think of a way to see you safely, which I hope you won’t deny me.” He looked at her hopefully, opening his dark eyes comically wide and blinking slowly twice.
She laughed, “How could I resist that face?”
“I’m hoping that you can’t,” he replied and smiled at her before falling back into thought. Layna wracked her brain for a way to see him without causing suspicion, but all her ideas led to them alone in secluded places, which soon gave way to more intimate and ultimately dangerous thoughts.
They reached the city gates and were brought out of their reveries by the need to pay close attention to their surroundings in the busy streets, so as not to crush anyone under the horses' hooves. They dismounted and left the horses in a corral at the edge of town, where Gryffon handed a few coins to the stable boy, and they headed into the marketplace. They made their way into the midst of the vendors and shoppers, and Gryffon looked around for a trader who he called ‘the woodsman’. This was, he had told Layna, the eccentric maker of his bow.
“So what makes him so strange?” she asked him curiously.
Gryffon simply smiled. “You just have to wait and see. Rest assured, you'll see what I mean shortly. Just try not to take anything too personally.”
Layna joined him in laughter, though she was mystified by this last comment. The two made their way through the horde of people until Gryffon spotted the man he was looking for. The woodsman gave them an enthusiastic wave over the heads of the people in the crowd.
“Do I have arrows for you?” he responded incredulously when they had worked their way over to him and Gryffon had made his request. “Do I have arrows for you? What kind of question is that? Of course I have arrows for you. That's what I do, now isn't it? Do you think I'm here boondoggling around, wastin’ my time in this frowzy crowded marketplace because I have nothin’ to sell ya? I think not, my good lad. Perhaps you should take a look at your head there, an' make sure you didn' hit it in no donnybrook.” He grumbled to himself some more, shaking his head in disbelief as he rummaged through a barrel in the back of his stall.
Gryffon was watching the man with an amused expression. He caught Layna's eye and winked at her. “I had to ask,” Gryffon explained teasingly to the woodsman's back. “I wasn't sure if you would have had time to make them what with all those nymphs chasing you around in the forest.”
“Hmph,” came the muffled reply from within the barrel that the woodsman had his head stuffed inside of to search. Layna watched him, puzzled, wondering how he could find anything with half his body inside of it.
He suddenly pulled his head out with a triumphant, “Ah-ha!” and then reached in to draw out a quiver of arrows.
Layna was stunned. The barrel was not nearly big enough to have held the quiver. She couldn't help but stare in amazement as the woodsman continued to pull other items out as well, mumbling to himself, “So that's where that was...”
The woodsman turned back to them and looked at Layna, “What's the matter, girl, never seen a magic barrel before? Better quit your gawkin’ and close that before a bug flies in. Not that there are any bugs in this gods-forsaken frozen wasteland.” He glared around at nothing in particular.
Layna clamped her mouth shut and flushed with embarrassment as he continued to mumble. She wasn't sure of half the things he was grumbling, but she got the idea that it wasn't all complimentary. Gryffon gave her a shrug, and took the quiver of arrows being held impatiently towards him.
“You know,” warned the woodsman, wiggling a finger at them, “it ain’t just the nicies in the forest anymore. Usta be I'd run into a nymph or two in them there woods, but nowadays, I'm just as likely to be attacked by a dire boar or worse. Why, just the other day I was out in farm country in, oh, what was the name of that place again?” He put a hand to his chin, scratching the tip of it and narrowing his eyes in concentration. “By the gods, I can't for the life of me recall it!” He looked disgruntled for a moment but soon continued. “Well, anywho, this baron fellow came in all high and mighty around from the city amoanin’ and groanin’ that he'd been attacked by a monster on his way over. At first I thinks to myself, 'these city folk don't know nothin' about the country, he was prolly surprised by a coyote and let his imagination get the better of ‘im but then he pulls open his fine robes and sure enough there's three gashes down the middle of him just like some creature made a swipe at him leaving huge cuts where the unnatural claws gouged out his flesh, farther apart than any normal creature's would be and going from here,” he pointed to the nape of his neck, “to here.” He drew a line down his chest and belly all the way to his groin making a slicing noise as he did so. “What I want to know is how he survived. He claims it was due to a healin’ charm, but it musta been one powerful charm to keep him alive 'cause by gods, that wound was fierce.” He whistled. “And so was his temper. Those high-born, no tolerance for pain...” He trailed off for a moment. “That was way up north, though,” he said thoughtfully, “them parts are full of special things. I don't know no one who's come back from across the Ferryn Plains.”
He got lost in his own thoughts then before suddenly making a little jump to face Gryffon once more. “So, what do ya think of my arrows?” Gryffon opened his mouth to answer just as a small gray cat bounded up onto the counter in front of the stall. At its appearance, the woodsman cut him off before waiting for an answer. “Ah, hello there kitty. What are you up to?” The cat settled herself down, wrapped her bushy tail around her, and proceeded to lick her front paw. The woodsman pet her, and the cat languished in the attention he gave her, standing and pressing her body against the length of his stroke, flipping her tail out as he reached the end.
Gryffon cleared his throat, “So, how much for the arrows?” The two men concluded their business and they left the woodsman to dote on the feline.
As soon as they were out of earshot Layna turned to Gryffon, “You weren't kidding.”
“No, no I wasn't. One of the smartest men I’ve ever met, but he certainly has a strange way about him.” They both broke into a fit of laughter.