Tales & Treasure Chapter 27
Vatis - Dartmore
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Vatis panted, stretching his hands into the air. A cramp ate through the back of his leg, burying its teeth into his femur. “Can we please stop?” he asked, forcing the air out of his burning lungs.
Silver specs shimmered on the river’s current. He wondered how much running he would have to do to have endurance like Vidmar. The treasure hunter skidded to a stop as he made a gesture with his right hand; it looked odd with two of his fingers missing, but it was still effective. “Catch your breath,” he said, circling behind the group.
“I,” Vatis began. His hot breath stung his throat like bees defending their hive. “Why are we running?”
Vidmar glanced toward Kamet. The mercenary shrugged. Mia jumped on top of a large piece of driftwood; she had more energy than Vidmar. “I thought I saw someone or something behind us,” Vidmar said, looking upstream toward a sparse grove of pine trees.
Vatis sipped the remaining water from his waterskin, smacking his lips unsatisfyingly. “What,” he said, shaking the waterskin upside-down into his mouth. A single drop landed on his tongue, which was worse than nothing coming out. The droplet was absorbed instantly in his desert-dry mouth. “Did you see?” he finished. Each word withered his mouth further.
“A dark shape, I’m not sure,” Vidmar said. “But I’m not taking chances.”
Vatis’s breath slowly returned to normal. He bent over the river’s edge, filling his waterskin. “Let me get this straight,” he said, attaching the full waterskin to his belt, then bending back down. “We are running from a dark shape, not a man or a beast.” He splashed water onto his face and cupped a large handful into his mouth. The gritty, slightly sour water quenched his thirst after two more handfuls. Kamet bent down next to him, pretending to push him into the river while reeling him in by the collar of his shirt. The rough canvas irritated his skin.
Kamet laughed. “Careful.”
Vatis rubbed his neck and scowled.
“Is it following us?” Mia said, stepping behind Vidmar.
Vidmar jumped, then stretched onto his tiptoes. “I don’t think so.”
“We are running from shadows now?” Vatis said, still rubbing the skin around his neck.
Vidmar turned slowly, his expression deadly serious. “Do I need to remind you of the Kokor Forest?” He said, looking over his shoulder.
“You went into the forest?” Mia asked. She held a hand over her mouth until a finger meandered to a curl in her hair.
Vidmar shifted his gaze from Vatis to the ground. “We didn’t have a choice, but that’s a story for another time. Dartmore is not far. If we run the rest of the way, we can make it before sunset. Then the three of you can laugh at how silly I was for making us run all the way there.”
Recently, Vidmar’s abundance of caution verged on paranoia. Maybe it always has, Vatis thought. I’d be paranoid, too, if the King and the King’s most prominent rival considered me an enemy. He slung his pack onto the ground and checked on the status of his invitation. Still there. He tightened the straps as he stood. The last thing he needed was his pack falling off and rolling into the river while they ran from Vidmar’s ghosts. However, he had seen the shadow in the Kokor Forest, though he wasn’t afraid. It spoke to him, not Vidmar or Kamet, offering the rest he so desperately craved. He closed his eyes and imagined a soft feather bed underneath a dark tree. Shadows hugged him like blankets. Rest.
“Are you ready?” Vidmar asked.
The feather bed beckoned him. He squinted the dream away, forcing himself to speak. “I’m ready.”
Kamet slapped his back as he jogged past. “Try to keep up.”
Apparently, Vidmar and Vatis had drastically different definitions of not far. They had been running for hours, stopping only briefly for Vatis to catch his breath. Each stop came seconds before he passed out. Golden stars evolved into orange-green planets collapsing in on his vision and sucking the mass from his head. His movement became more difficult with each stop, like getting an old horse to pull a wagon. Then he saw it as they crested the final hill, smoking chimneys and slated rooftops beyond a wide, fast-moving river, Dartmore.
Rest.
Vidmar made his three-finger stopping gesture. There was something familiar about Dartmore; repressed memories forced their way to the front of Vatis’s mind. He had performed here, but he couldn’t remember how long ago. Years, decades, maybe. It had been one of the first taverns he dared to enter. Dartmore sat at the intersection of the Camil and Fox rivers. The Camil River flowed east toward Barna, and the Fox river ran north and south from the Islingrey Mountains to Vicus. The structures of Dartmore were laid out in a circular fashion revolving around a tall spiraling chapel with a cracked bronze bell. It had been painted blue at one point in its history, but now only a faint hint of the color remained. Vatis watched an eagle pluck a fish from the river. The majesty of the creature awed him.
“Eagle,” he exclaimed to the group.
Mia jumped beside him. “Where?” Vatis watched her green eyes widen with similar awe. “Wow,” she whispered. “Gaffer said that The Pact used to use eagles as weapons.”
“That’s terrifying,” Kamet said without turning around. His head followed the bird as it soared over Dartmore.
“Actually, The Pact used them for intimidation. Eagles are quite difficult to train; very few were ever trained well enough to strike on command, which is why the King employs his regimen of falconers, not eaglers. I don’t know if that is the correct term,” Vatis said as the regal bird disappeared beyond the horizon.
“Are you all done gawking at the bird?” Vidmar said.
Vatis tried to remember his performance in Dartmore but couldn’t; however, he did recall the force of the swift-moving Camil River. A mill across the river spun, powering a wood saw in the adjacent building. Constructing a bridge was impossible, and the current was too strong to swim; they had to take a ferry across. Fortunately, one was docked nearby; its captain sat on a stool fishing with a rod.
“Hello,” Vidmar said in a friendly tone as they approached.
The pot-bellied man held a finger to his lips, then yanked the rod upward. He stood faster than Vatis thought possible for a man of his stature. He frantically reeled in his line.
Vatis froze. The man grunted, pulling his line closer and closer to shore. He dove onto his stomach, reaching his hands into the water. Vatis heard frantic splashing as the man wrestled his catch. He emerged shortly after holding a murky-green scaled fish by its gills. It was nearly as long as Vatis’s arm, with a pointed mouth and sharp teeth that jutted outside like a boar’s tusks.
“Haha,” the man exclaimed, holding the fish above his head. Blood dripped down his forearm. Vatis couldn’t tell if it was his or the fish’s.
Vidmar held up his hands triumphantly. “Is that a pike?”
“It sure is, friend,” the fisherman said in a deep yet comforting voice. He grabbed its tail with his free hand and examined it closer. “Might be the biggest I’ve ever caught, enough to feed my family for a week.”
Vidmar stopped in front of the wooden dock. “Impressive.” Vatis, Mia, and Kamet lingered behind.
The fisherman abruptly ended the pike’s life by sticking a thin knife through the side of its skull. Vatis found the efficiency of the kill terrifying.
“Is this your boat?” Vidmar asked after the fisherman stored the fish in a barrel brimming with salt.
“Aye,” he said, using a wooden mallet to seal the barrel.
“We seek passage across the river,” Vidmar said, pointing to the town in the distance.
The ferryman laughed. “No need to be so formal, friend. 2 Kan each.”
Vidmar reached back toward Kamet, holding his hand out like a beggar. “Toss me the purse.”
“Don’t you have any coin on you?” Kamet asked, untying the pouch on his hip.
“No. I gave it to you.”
“Fine, but are we sure there is no other way across?” Kamet said, his voice shaking slightly.
“You could walk to Barna and around the other side, or you could swim,” Vidmar said, narrowing his eyes. “We are crossing a river, not sailing uncharted waters. I’m sure this fine ferryman has made the journey hundreds of times.”
The ferryman coughed. “It's my first time.”
Kamet’s face turned ghostly pale. Then the ferryman burst out laughing. “A little water-feared, I see, aye, you’ve nothing to fear. Ole Oto’s the most experienced ferryman this side of the Camil,” he said, stepping near Mia. He bent down and whispered loudly. “Oto’s the only ferryman this side of the Camil.”
Kamet threw the purse at Vidmar’s feet. “Let’s get this over with.”
A smooth ferry ride and a few hours later, Vatis watched the sunset through a small rectangular window; a dull orange light fell below his sightline. The bathwater cooled rapidly. His body ached, muscles he didn’t know he had pulsed beneath the lilac-scented water. This was his first proper bath in months, not since the Raue Tavern in Basswood. He was going to relish every second of it. Vidmar had knocked twice, Mia once, but Vatis wasn’t ready. He needed this bath. He’d earned some rest. A fourth knock came at his door, “Sir, another guest requested a bath. Are you nearly finished?” An unfamiliar woman’s voice called through the door.
Can’t I have a moment’s rest? Vatis respected the tavern business too much to dawdle when another customer was waiting. He had been that customer, and he hated waiting. “I’ll be out shortly,” he said, rinsing his hair. He shivered as the cold water ran down his neck. How long have I been in here? His fingers looked as though he had aged fifty years. His moments of rest were always too short. He thought briefly about the shadow figure in the Kokor Forest and his vision of a luxurious bed beneath a large oak tree. He didn’t know if he could resist the creature’s offer again.
“You look … refreshed,” Vidmar said a few moments later as Vatis joined their table in the tavern’s common room.
“Are you a woman?” Kamet asked. “What took you so long?” Vatis could smell the mead on his breath.
Vatis sat next to Mia; dirt still clung to her face and clothing. “I just lost track of time.”
“I saved you some stew,” she said, sliding a wooden bowl in front of him. “It’s cold now, but it’s good.”
Vatis lifted the bowl to his lips. It was good. He couldn't tell what kind of meat it was—most likely some type of fish—but it was well-seasoned with pepper and rosemary. He wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”
Mia played with a loose nail on the bench. “Kamet tried to steal it.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Something about a tavern made Vatis feel at home, perhaps because he hadn’t had a home in decades. The ambiance, the people, the food, the history, and the potential all varied drastically from place to place. The Troubled Pike in Dartmore was nothing special. It didn’t even have a proper bar or at least one where people could sit. Rectangular tables were scattered about the common room, not in a lined sequence, but randomly, like they had been moved by patrons, and the owner didn’t care enough to push them back. He ignored Vidmar and Kamet’s mindless banter as they argued about something involving boats. Vatis finished his stew, enjoying one of his favorite hobbies – people-watching. At least, that’s what he called it. He sat back and observed, watching for the details that made humans, well, humans.
A dark-skinned man scratched the back of his neck while playing cards; his fingers were blistered and callused, a millworker most likely. Dozens of patrons gathered around their tables, projecting a pleasant murmur that’s only heard in a well-occupied tavern. A gray-haired man with cloudy eyes held the leash of a slender black dog as they sauntered out the door. “Goodnight, Ister,” a man in a black apron called while sweeping. Blind, perhaps, that must be one well-trained dog. Vatis thought before turning his attention to a thin woman with white streaks speckled throughout her black hair. She wore a long lavender cloak and looked familiar. She pushed a stool into an opening between the tables. Crow’s feet wrinkled next to her hazy, azure eyes. “What are you playing tonight, Kytia?” someone called from a nearby table. Vatis now realized that the tables were all lined up to face her. A bard. Vatis couldn’t remember the last time he listened to a bard in a tavern. Kytia, he thought, trying to place the name.
Mia elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hey,” he said, scooting onto the edge of the bench they shared.
“Sorry. Do you know her?” Mia asked.
Vatis scratched his chin. “She looks familiar, but I can’t place her.”
Mia began to ask another question as Kytia cleared her throat. The simple noise silenced the tavern.
“Thank you,” she said in a gentle yet commanding voice. She brushed a wrinkle out of her gray skirt. “As I was saying, what would you like to hear, Thad? You haven’t requested anything in a few weeks. A song?” She pointed to the lute case leaning against the stool. “A story? A poem?”
The man called Thad said something, but Vatis didn’t hear, and apparently, neither did Kytia. “Stand and annunciate, Thad,” Kytia demanded like a schoolteacher. The broad-shouldered man stood; mead spilled from the mug in his hand.
“Um,” Thad began quietly. The young man shuffled his feet.
“Louder, Thad,”
“Sorry, miss. Um, can you tell us the story of Durgia,” Thad said. His voice faded into the attentive crowd.
Kytia sat on the stool, adjusting her spine to appear taller. “Durgia,” she started. “Interesting choice. Are you sure you don’t want to hear of Dabin again?” Thad nodded. “Alright then. How does our crowd feel about the story of an ancient creature that roamed the Camil long before Dartmore’s establishment? A tale of a being larger than a barge, more powerful than a tornado, and faster than an eagle. A creature that was hunted for its indestructible scales, only to repay our hatred by saving a child that would one day become the most powerful man in the world.” The crowd collectively raised their glasses in agreement.
Vatis listened attentively until he was stabbed in the ribs again by a dreadfully sharp elbow. “Quit that,” he said.
“Sorry,” Mia smirked. “Is it true? This Durgia creature.”
“There’s always some truth in myths. But, alas, no one has seen this creature in centuries, at least no one credible. Just enjoy the story,” Vatis said, sipping the last of his stew.
Kytia finished her introduction, scanning the crowd. Azure eyes met Vatis’s, and he thought Kytia stiffened like she had seen a ghost; her eyes widened before they continued their examination. She cleared her throat. The growing murmur stopped immediately. “Thank you,” she said, placing her hands on her lap. “This tale could start in many different places, but most bards agree that it is fine to skip the creation of Emre and the age of evolution that followed.” Her eyes lingered on Vatis as she said, ‘most bards.’ She blinked repeatedly. “Let’s start our story with the settlement of the finest city in the world, Dartmore.” The crowd roared. Pandering, Vatis thought. He ordered an ale, adjusted his seat, and listened.
“A dark sapphire shape thrashed in the river as the gathering townsfolk watched in horror. A seamstress fainted, nearly joining the boy in the violent water below,” Kytia said, approaching the climax of her story. She’s good, Vatis thought. Too good for a tavern in Dartmore. Mia watched with bated breath, soaking in each detail of the story like a sponge.
Meanwhile, Kamet had passed out with his forehead on the table, snoring loud enough to draw menacing looks from a table of men to their right. Kytia stood and began walking through the crowd. “The water went deathly still. The crowd’s heavy, raspy breathing was the only sound for what seemed like miles,” she whispered, crouching behind a table of women in the back of the room. Then she stomped her foot. Vatis jumped; he wasn’t expecting such theatrics. The hollow thud echoed through the room like she knew exactly what floorboard would produce the best sound to emphasize her story.
“Suddenly, the boy flew through the air and landed on the dock,” Kytia glided through the common room, eyeing her audience. “The stunned crowd gasped as the boy rolled onto his stomach and coughed out a lungful of water,” Kytia paused as she poked her head over Kamet’s shoulder. She stared at Vatis. He felt cold as the room blackened until it was just the two of them, her stare delving deep into his soul. She bit her lip and tried to focus but stumbled over her words. Her gaze slipped from Vatis to Mia, displacing her from the reverie. The room had gone eerily quiet; not even the fire responded with its usual cracking.
Kytia gently slapped Kamet’s back. “I must be losing my touch,” she said. “I haven’t put a man to sleep in years.” She smiled, deliberately avoiding the vacuum of Vatis’s lingering stare. The crowd responded by booing Kamet. One man threw an apple core that struck the back of the mercenary’s head. A black seed landed in front of Vatis. Kamet didn’t move; however, his snoring grew louder as his subconscious fought when his body betrayed him. “If he wasn’t snoring like a hog, I would have guessed he was dead,” Kytia said, returning to her stool. The crowd laughed. “Now, where was I?”
Vatis couldn’t focus on the story as she finished; he barely heard the room erupt with applause. He and Kamet were the only two patrons sitting as she performed her final curtsy. Mia kicked him in the shin, and he jolted to his feet, joining the crowd for the final seconds of their ovation. He remained standing as the rest of the patrons returned their attention to drinking and gambling.
“Why didn’t you stand? I thought the story was incredible,” Mia said, watching Kytia visit with a table of dark-skinned men toward the front of the room.
The trance clung to Vatis like sap to a maple tree. “What?” he squealed as Mia kicked him again. A tender lump formed on the top of his shin.
“Why didn’t you stand?”
Vatis barely heard the question. Instead, he focused on Kytia, who greeted another table with infectious laughter. Is she in the guild? The thought terrified him. He hadn’t associated with a guild member in over a decade; most members thought he was dead. Vatis’s palms began to sweat.
“What’s with you tonight?” Vidmar asked. “You seem distracted, more distracted than usual.” Kytia neared their table as she continued her rounds. Vidmar raised his voice. “Vatis?”
“Vatis,” Kytia’s butter-smooth voice repeated from the head of their table. “I,” she stopped, swallowing hard. “We thought you were dead.” Vatis did know Kytia. He tried to deny it. He searched for a response, but fortunately, Kytia continued. “Vatis, what happened?” She asked, looking like it took all of her training to keep her composure. Vatis saw the tension behind her smile.
He needed to say something, anything; her questioning stare ripped his stomach apart. The edges of his vision darkened, blackening out the shadows that Mia and Vidmar and the entire tavern became until it was just the two of them. Kytia and Vatis. Classmates. Old friends. “Hello,” was all he could muster.
Her accusatory tone softened into comforting velvetiness. “Vatis, it’s me, Kytia Versil, from the guild.”
He watched her lips roll like waves from happiness to confusion to concern. “I know,” he said softly.
“Where have you been all these years?” She asked, gently touching Vatis’s forearm as she leaned over the table.
Thoughts raced through his head. What can I say?
“You know Vatis?” Vidmar asked. His voice was like lightning, illuminating the darkness for a second before the storm passed and the tavern returned to normal.
“… we studied together,” Kytia said. Vatis only caught the final few words of her answer.
“You mean people go to school to tell stories,” Mia’s friendly voice said, casting a ray of sunshine into the exchange.
Kytia laughed. “The good bards do.” She smiled, then returned her attention to Vatis, beaming like a child with a new toy. “I can’t believe you’re alive. The guild will be shocked.”
Vatis straightened as if he had been stabbed in the back. “Don’t tell the guild.”
Kytia’s brows furrowed against her long eyelashes. “Why? They deserve to know.”
“I can explain.”
“Don’t forget about us, Kytia,” A group of men called from a nearby table.
Kytia backed away, nodding at Vatis. “Fine, meet me in my room in an hour.” She pointed to a room in the back corner of the tavern. “It was a pleasure to meet you all,” she said, slapping Kamet again. He snorted what seemed like an answer. “Vatis,” she finished, spinning on her heels and embracing the table behind them with open arms.
Vatis tried to listen to Kytia’s exchange with the other table. It seemed so friendly, so warm. Pain vibrated up his shin. “I said stop it,” he said, baring his teeth at Mia.
“What was that about?” Vidmar asked.
“It’s nothing,” Vatis whispered, rubbing his shin with his opposite heel.
Vidmar looked back at Kytia, who, in turn, kept glancing at Vatis. “Didn’t seem like nothing.”
“It’s nothing,” Vatis yelled. Kytia stole another glance at Vatis with wide, scared eyes.