Fury in the Wind chp 10 - Potter's Creek (again)

Potter’s Creek reminded Devlin of home. Not the snow, of course, but the size and familial feel it held was much more in line with what he was used to back home than the high walls and towering structures of the Royal City. It was tucked away in the forest, but for being so alone, it was a large enough village that it was impossible to miss while on the main snow-covered trail.

With how long winters supposedly were up in the Agressi Mountains, and the conditions of the trail, which was now a muddy, slippery mess from some two hundred horses clopping along it, Devlin surmised that Potter’s Creek was mostly self-sustained. Getting a wagon up here would be a pain in the best weather conditions, and those didn’t appear to come very often. And sure enough, the town had all you might need to survive as a small colony.

But Longshanks was less than disinterested in most of it. The only thing they were here for was a rest and lunch, and then they would be on their way while the weather was favorable. He was determined to reach Hoden’s Pass ahead of schedule. Perhaps there would be a promotion in his future if he could make something of the Foreign Battalion that no one else seemed to care for beyond a cursory glance and shrug.

Either way, their time in Potter’s Creek was to be no more than four hours, and even less if he could help it. The townspeople watched at first from shuttered and curtained windows before the iconic red and white flag waved as the flag-bearer came toward the head of the column. Then the people poured out as fears were assuaged.

Many of the adults looked offended, like their whole day had been ruined by the intrusion. Devlin had to think that the amount of coin they would earn by the mountain regiment and the Foreign Battalion passing through would be enough to bring a smile to their face. He was wrong.

Gobi faked shuddered. “Not the warm reception I expected at the sight of national warriors.”

Devlin slid down from his saddle as the battalion filled the town square beside a beautiful, red bell tower. “I think you should get used to it. This place looks untouched by the war. We’re probably a nuisance more than anything.”

Gobi dismounted and stretched like a feline, reaching to his toes and arching back so far Devlin thought he might snap at the waist. He let out a happy sigh as he straightened back up and patted his belly. “I’m starving, and thirsty. You think they might have some kaffe here?”

Devlin looked around at the cluster of log buildings, most peaked with snow, their brick chimneys dispensing a thick column of grey smoke. “Yes, I’m sure this random mountain village that probably gets one trading caravan a year, carries your most coveted beans.”

Gobi scrunched his nose. “Could’ve jut said no.”

Devlin scrunched right back. “Could’ve just looked around.”

While the working men and women seemed to not like the intrusion, the children were a different matter. Several groups came pouring out of the hatches and doors and the very roots of the trees it seemed. Not only were there shiny-armored soldiers, but they didn’t look like anyone else in Astoria. They eyed the battalion up and down, deciding if they liked them or not.

A larger man, devoid of much hair up top, but sporting a fiery beard, came right up to Longshanks who was nearest a two-story building with a weathered sign that faintly read Porgie’s. The man stuck out a ruddy hand to match his rosy cheeks.

“Porgie, at your service!” His voice boomed in the square. Some of the horses even snorted and skittered backwards a bit. “Welcome to Potter’s Creek. It is an honor to host His Majesty’s fine troops.”

Well, if he had any problems with foreigners, it was covered under the multitude of coin he could make from them. But he was still going on.

“We have the finest mead in all the mountains, grown from our own beehives right here in Potter’s Creek. Any grain or hay can be procured across the square, and for twice as cheap as you’ll find anywhere else in the land!”

Devlin seriously doubted that.

Longshanks shook Porgie’s hand. “You are a most gracious host. We’ve just resupplied down the mountain, but a hot meal and some rest for the horses would be welcome at this time.”

Porgie nodded vigorously, rubbing his beard with one hand. “Right this way, to the finest lamb soup and mead you can find South of the Flatheads!”

Longshanks gave instructions for tethering the horses, unsaddling and brushing them down. They would move out in three hours. Gobi grabbed Karim’s bridle, and he, Devlin, Soltoro, and Amarro headed behind the large inn and eatery, trying to nab a quieter spot. They had already been riding since first light, some five hours, and even Amarro would admit that he was a bit sore from all the riding.

As they found a patch of snow-covered grass, embraced and cocooned from some oaks that had stood far longer than any of the structures built by man, Devlin detected a presence nearby. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was, but then he heard something dragging in the snow. No animal was this clumsy. He kept his head forward, tethering his mare to a small shrub, browned from winter’s bite, and unsaddled her.

He glanced Gobi’s way to his right, ever so softly, and noted the subtle turn of the lips from his friend’s face. Amarro and Soltoro couldn’t care less, and they were hastily piling their gear. With a humph, Amarro barged on by, intent to attempt to fill the bottomless he called a stomach. Soltoro patted Devlin on the arm.

“Grab you a seat and a bowl?”

Devlin nodded. “And one for Gobi. If you want. I can understand if you don’t.”

Gobi laughed out loud at that. “One of these days you’ll be eating alone at some inn, and you’re going to wish I was there to entertain you.”

Devlin nodded and tutted in a sarcastic voice. “No doubt, no doubt, my good man.” He paused. “But not today.”

Devlin dumped his saddle on his riding blanket and patted his mare on the rump. He could brush her down after he ate. But first, they would find out who was spying on them. He nodded for Gobi to follow to the left near the edge of the inn. Gobi did so without a smart remark. But as soon as they cleared the corner they pushed up against the rough stone exterior that ran halfway up the building.

Devlin peeked around the corner. Sure enough, a dark-haired boy, not much younger than Devlin and Gobi, was emerging from the trees. He walked with a slight limp and was headed straight for their gear. Devlin heard the intake of Gobi’s breath but put a hand to his chest to stop him from rushing.

The boy patted Devlin’s mare as he passed her. He eyed the saddles and blankets, then looked back to the mare, and whispered something that made her snicker. Then he knelt beside the saddles. Devlin’s view was now mostly blocked by his mare. He could hear the jingle as his saddle and stirrups were moved about. That was it.

Devlin and Gobi rushed from their hiding spot, Gobi leading the way. They rounded the mare, and the boy jumped with a start as he was caught red-handed. Devlin crossed his arms and Gobi strode forward.

“What are you doing, kid?” Gobi demanded; his usually jovial demeanor currently hid somewhere deep down.

The boy stuttered, taking a step back. Gobi looked like he was about to bring fiery rain on him. Devlin held up a hand. “Easy, Gobi, let him speak.”

The boy hadn’t taken anything as far as Devlin could tell. In fact, he hadn’t even touched their personal belongings, having only flipped over both saddles, revealing the wood-burned emblem of the Foreign Battalion, a sand eagle’s screaming face, tongue extended.

“Out with it,” Gobi said. He remained awfully close to the boy, who had nowhere to go with the inn behind him, Devlin’s mare to his right, and a menacing Gobi to his left.

The boy paused for a moment more, then spoke, with surprising clarity for someone being interrogated. It seemed that he was more interested in who they were, than his own personal safety.

“You aren’t a normal battalion.”

“What gave it away,” Devlin said. He meant it as dry humor, but the boy seemed to gloss right over the obvious difference in their complexion and just pointed at the emblem on the underside of the saddle.

“That’s not a regular mountain regiment or battalion brand.”

“So, you thought that makes it okay to root through our things?” Gobi said, less than enthused at the current line of conversation.

The boy glared at him. “I didn’t root through anything. I was just looking at the saddles. My dad used to be a soldier. I wanted to be like him, so I learned everything he had to tell me about his time in the army. And that,” he pointed to the emblem again, “is different. So, what are you?”

Devlin couldn’t stop the slight smile that snuck past his lips, despite knowing that it would disappoint Gobi who was taking this whole thing a little too seriously. “You are correct. But that doesn’t mean you should be going through our things as soon as you see as leave. And if you are going to sneak up on someone, please, for your own sake, learn to walk quieter than a donkey in mating season.”

The boy’s brows furrowed. His face turned from quite pale to a flustered red in half a second. “I can’t help it. Legs don’t work right.”

“And that’s why you aren’t like your father, in the army, despite a civil war going on?”

He looked at the ground, blushing.

Devlin pushed it no further. Clearly it wasn’t what the boy wished, and he believed that he had been genuinely curious. Gobi was still rigid but had taken a step back.

“What’s your name?”

“Malcolm.”

“Well, Malcolm, we are a part of the Foreign Battalion. We’re from across the sea.” Devlin looked around the forest. “I’m guessing you don’t get much news up here.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Just an occasional rider. Like that fellow earlier this morning.”

“Mountain rider? Big horsehair helmet?”

Malcolm’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “How did you know that?”

Devlin shrugged. “Afraid I can’t say. Tell me, why was he here?”

“He was asking questions. Looking for someone.”

“Who?”

Malcolm gave a helpless arm raise. “Some old man. He came through yesterday. Stumbled out of the woods apparently, all frozen.”

Devlin’s mind was racing. The rider had mentioned tying up loose ends. Could it be that this old man was opposed to his mission, whatever that was? Or it could be that they were allies, working together on some nefarious plan.

“What was his name, this old man?”

“Folks called him Kenway, but no one knows if that’s even his real name.”

“Why wouldn’t you believe him?”

Malcolm looked back to the snow again, kicking at a rock lodged in the frozen earth. “He took some horses. Left with someone from the village suddenly.”

“He kidnapped someone?” Devlin and Gobi looked at each other with wide eyes. What had they accidentally stumbled upon last night in the Scaly Dragon?

“Not exactly.” Malcolm bit his lip. “Her name is Carris. She’s my friend. Or was. I don’t know.” He put his hands to the side of his head and shook it. “She has had a tough time here. And we had a fight. I think I pushed her away.” His voice faltered here. He cleared his throat, but his lip trembled. “And now she’s riding off with some man that we don’t know the first thing about, and I’ll never see her again.”

Devlin stepped closer, kneeling to meet Malcolm’s downcast eyes. “Malcolm, I need you to tell me this: did he say where they were going.”

Malcolm nodded, rubbing his eyes. “He said Thespion, or Thoosaspoon? The city east, down the mountain. Used to be Sadorian but it got taken over in a siege a few years ago.” He snapped his fingers. “Thessapon!”

Devlin caught Gobi’s sideways glance but remained on Malcolm. He tried to focus on the rider, pulling away from whatever friendship troubles this poor boy was dealing with.

“Did the rider give a name? And did he get this answer?”

“He didn’t give a name. Acted tough and in a hurry, on military business as he was. Our physician was happy to supply the information he was seeking. After all, the man was with Carris who everyone is worried about, and if this old man is an enemy of the country than she could be in danger.”

Devlin shifted his gaze to his saddle. “You weren’t thinking of riding to find her, were you?”

Malcolm shook his head. “That soldier is much swifter on his horse than I could ever be. Besides, he’s a soldier; I trust him.”

Devlin rolled his eyes mentally. Of the three soldiers Malcolm had encountered, he was sure that not one of them had been honest to his face.

“He’ll find them, I’m sure,” Devlin said. He beckoned Gobi to the side. “Something is going on here.”

“This isn’t our fight, Dev. We don’t even know what’s going on. What if this Kenway fellow is an enemy of the Crown? What if Carris is endangered being with him? You heard a snippet of a private conversation last night, that’s all. We have nothing to act on, and even if we did, these aren’t our fights. We need to get to Hoden’s Pass and wait for Farrin to return.”

Devlin shifted. Something felt off about the whole thing. “Don’t think Farrin is innocent in all this.”

Gobi threw his hands out. “Innocent in what?” He laughed. “Devlin, we don’t have a clue what we might be involving ourselves with, but I can tell you that it won’t get you to Ratkey or your father.”

“And what if it leaves innocent people in danger? We know better than to trust Astorian cavalry,” he said bitterly.

Gobi sighed deeply. “We can ask around when we get to the pass. If this rider has been acting outside of his commission in his regiment then we will let Longshanks know. Right now, we’d be laughed out of the battalion.”

Devlin paced away for a moment, resting his hands on his mare who liked the attention and turned to nuzzle him.

“And before we do anything, you’re naming that mare of yours,” Gobi said, slapping him on the back. He turned to Malcolm. “Porgie’s doesn’t happen to serve kaffe, does it?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

Gobi sighed again. “Maybe we should go to Thessapon, if only to find someone in this forsaken country that knows that power of the kakao bean.”

Devlin chuckled. “Or maybe you should learn to do without. If you’re no good without kaffe, you don’t deserve to have it.”

Malcolm stepped forward. “We don’t serve kaffe, whatever that is, but we have some spicy cider that should do the trick.”

Gobi folded his arms together. “Fine. I guess that will do for now.”

The mood having lightened, they entered Porgie’s, reconnected with Amarro and Soltoro, and ordered some stew and the spicy cider as recommended by Malcolm, who tagged along, looking like he had nothing else to do. His gaze would often wander into oblivion. Devlin guessed that it was the trouble with his friend, but he wasn’t sure it was the sort of topic he was qualified to discuss, and he had his own jumbled mess of thoughts to work through.

The hour passed quickly. When Malcolm would come back to reality, he was full of questions. He seemed entirely unphased by them being foreigners. To him, a soldier was a soldier, and despite having never seen conflict in Astoria, they did their best to answer his questions on tactics and troop movements. Camp life was something they knew of, and there Gobi took over, painting an overly glamorous picture of their time at the Royal City. It was Devlin who rounded the conversation back to practicality. “Malcolm, is there a good place we could get a few hours’ sleep? Despite Gobi’s tales, there’s nothing joyous about sleeping on rocky, freezing ground for weeks at a time.”

Malcolm was biting into a hunk of bread. He had scarcely eaten as he listened to Gobi. He brushed the crumbs off his hands and lap and swallowed, washing it down with a swig of cider and wiping his lips with his sleeve before answering. “I’m afraid the village isn’t made to house an extra two hundred troops.” He paused. “I might have an idea though. Be right back.”

He hopped up from his seat and crossed the crowded first floor that was a smaller version of the inn the night before, full of soldiers devouring hot meals as they were served by the barmaids. There was a warm atmosphere, and not just because of how many people were crammed into this inn. The morale of the troops was high. Their trek was nearly done, and then it would just be a few months of guarding an impregnable pass. It was safer than watching after a baby piglet, they had been told. What was there to be downcast for?

Devlin watched as Malcolm limped and ducked his way through, stopping a barmaid on the far side. They discussed something for just a few seconds, shot a couple glances and pointed fingers in the direction of the table, and then he returned, wincing as he sat down.

“That’s Carris’s mother. She’ll be here all day. She said you may sleep in her cabin, provided you don’t wreck anything.”

“She didn’t look very happy,” Gobi said.

Malcolm laughed. “She both hates and loves soldiers. Carris’s father is some soldier we’ve never met. She’s never even said his name, but she does hate him.”

“But she’s willing to share her cabin?” Devlin asked, surprised.

A wry smile curled up one side of Malcolm’s face. “Oh, not without a cost though. She said the firewood must be doubled, and she expects a coin purse. With Carris gone she’ll have to do all that herself. I bet she’s happy to avoid that responsibility for another few days.”

Devlin shook his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in Astoria, no one does anything out of the goodness of their heart.”

“And they do where you come from?” Malcolm asked, a bit defensive. “Life is hard up here in the mountains. We can’t afford to just give things away.”

Devlin debated whether now was the time to get into the social differences between countries, or the fact that back home scarcity brought people closer together, not made them solitary and protective. He decided that arguing with Malcolm would not solve anything.

“Perhaps we can discuss that some other time.” He gestured to the door as he stood. “For now, lead the way, and we’ll be out of your hair in a few hours.”

“Does that mean you’re coming back?” Malcolm asked. He seemed to be excited at the possibility.

Devlin shrugged. “I’m not sure. Only time will tell.”