Soron's Quest (5 page)

The second night went much the same as the first. This time the soldiers were better prepared, made bigger fires and were vigilant about their defenses. No soldiers died, but again none of them were able to sleep. For every hour or so Soron would strike out at the camp, reminding them of his presence before slipping back into the night. The next morning instead of trying to sleep the soldiers started a march south. They could not stay here any longer if they were to stop the caravan before it made it too Venecia. But they moved slowly, in a tight formation, attempting to minimize any spots where Soron could attack. 

The soldiers had been marching for an hour through the forest when they heard a large cracking sound. Looking up the men saw a large oak tree begin to fall, right across their path. The huge tree came crashing down as the soldiers scattered. Most made it out of the way of the falling tree, but several were crushed under its heavy branches as they landed heavily into the ground. While the men were distracted by the pandemonium created by the tree, Soron struck again, slicing down several soldiers who had been cut off from the rest of the men by the falling tree.

The captain screamed in frustration. He had not slept in two days and his elite unit of foot soldiers was being decimated. At the current rate he would have no men left by the time they caught up to the caravan again. Frustrated and angry the captain wanted to keep going and fulfill his orders but they were up against an enemy they did not understand and were running out of time. Finally the captain realized the futility in going forward. He ordered the men to gather the wounded and begin a strategic retreat. They would head back to Avalon and face King Wexton’s wrath, as bad as that might be it was better than being destroyed by an unseen enemy. Almost a full two thirds of his men had died at the hands of the mysterious attacker, and that did not take into account the many wounded.

The caravan was almost to Venecia when Soron rejoined them.

Marin greeted him “Soron, we thought we might have lost you. You look tired friend.”

Soron was beyond tired. Keeping the enemies soldiers exhausted meant forgoing sleep for himself as well. He did not endure any injuries during his sorties with the enemy, but the physical and mental exhaustion was setting in, after the days and nights of brutal guerilla warfare he had submitted the foot soldiers to.

“Hello Marin, I don’t suppose you have room in your wagon for me to sleep, I could use a small nap.”

Marin thought the great northerner could use more than an hour or two of sleep. He looked ready to collapse at any second. “Of course, jump up. Get some rest. We will arrive in Venecia late tonight and we will get you a proper bed then. But for now, you just go ahead and sleep in the wagon.

Soron jumped into the wagon and curled into a ball, his large frame did not comfortably fit into the wagon, but he was too tired to complain. Within minutes he was dead to the world.

The previous day when Soron had not returned, Marin sent the remaining guard back to look for him or sign of King Wexton’s men. Hours after Soron returned the guard came back to the camp. He had missed Soron but had word of the enemy. He had spotted them heading northeast. The platoon of foot soldiers looked to have encountered heavy losses and was going home. After hearing the guards report Marin took another look at the sleeping Soron. Marin shook his head in awe. Soron alone had taken on a platoon of King Wexton’s finest foot soldiers and routed them to the point that they had retreated. Marin wondered how one man could do such a thing.  He shuddered to think what an army of men like Soron could do. He prayed the north never had reason to invade Southern Solotine.

Venecia came into Marin’s view just before sunset. The coastal cities lights shone bright as the sun dipped into the ocean waters to the west. The caravan had made it to the city intact. The goods they carried would bring much needed currency for the war against King Wexton, and with luck they would gain the Venecian warships to aid their cause. Marin knew the sleeping northerner was to thank for their good fortune. When they arrived in Venecia, Marin quickly found a suitable Inn and arranged for rooms. He shook Soron awake.

Soron woke to Marin’s gentle nudging. He uncurled himself from the wagon and head into the Inn with Marin. Soron said little, he was still too exhausted for rational thought. One they made it to the room Soron collapsed into the bed. It took a day and half before he woke again.

5

Venecia

SORON’S EYES OPENED, his nose was teasing him and his tummy was rumbling. While he had caught up on his sleep, his stomach now needed attention and he could smell the scents of food wafting up into his room. Soron looked around, he did not remember coming into the room. He assumed they were now in Venecia but he hardly remembered rejoining the caravan, and he had only the faintest memory of Marin waking him and walking into the inn.

Soron rose and headed downstairs; he found a few of the caravan members eating breakfast. He gladly joined them.

“We have eggs and ham or oatmeal, what would you like?”

Soron looked up at the voice. A cute little server was standing there, waiting for him to reply. Soron looked at the plates of his fellow travels and then looked at the girl sheepishly “better bring both.”

The girl smiled and headed to the kitchen. Soron asked the men about Marin. Apparently Marin had already eaten left on business, he had left word that if Soron finally woke up to meet him for lunch at the small pub up the road. Soron frowned, “what did Marin mean by finally wake up?” he asked the men.

One of the men laughed and explained to Soron “you have been asleep for a day and half.”

Soron was startled,
well that explained why I am so hungry
, he thought to himself. He chuckled “Oops.”

The serving girl brought back a large plate filled with eggs and ham, and a large oversized bowl of oatmeal.

Soron thanked the girl and started to eat.

Brent, one of the caravan men, protested to the girl. “Mariah how come you gave him so much food, you give the rest of us half that?

Mariah just laughed. “Are you kidding me? Look at the boy, he is as big any two of you, and the way his stomach is growling we had better feed him before he starts trying to take the rest of your meals.”

The men all laughed at the cheeky girl. Soron was too busy devouring his food to notice or care. When he finished off the first round of food, the girl quickly put another plate in front of him. Soron looked up in gratitude. “Thank you,” he said between mouthfuls.

The girl just smiled and gathered up his empty plate and bowl.

After three large plates of ham and eggs along with two bowl of oatmeal Soron finally felt human again. He smiled and rubbed his expanded belly.

His travel companions shook their head in awe, never had they seen a man eat so much food. Mariah had been right to bring him the large plates.

When Mariah came back and grabbed the last of his dishes Soron asked what he owed for the meal.

Mariah shook her head, “Marin has paid for your room and board. Although father might want to renegotiate once he finds out how much you eat,” she said with a smile.

Soron laughed, “I don’t always eat like that, I just missed a meal or two lately.”

 Mariah nodded, “I’ve heard the rumors. You helped out Marin and the caravan from Salma. It was very brave of you.”

Soron was suddenly uncomfortable, having the girl look at him like he was some sort of hero made him ill to his stomach. What he had done was not heroic. He had done terrible things. Despite the cause being just Soron still felt a strong wave of regret for the way he terrorized, hunted and decimated the enemy forces in the forests. He would much sooner people forget that it ever happened. He was trying to walk away from having a warrior’s reputation, not build another one. He knew at some point word of his northern exploits would follow him here; he just wanted some small reprieve.

Soron thanked the girl and headed out of the inn. He was curious as to what this city of Venecia was like. He had been out of it when they arrived and had been so exhausted the last week that he hadn’t had an opportunity to notice the land or its people.

 Stepping out of the cool inn Soron noticed the heat, it was warm here. The breeze off the ocean was refreshing though, the salty air had a certain flavor to it. Not unpleasant but unique from the high mountain air he was used to. The city was large and busy. Soron watched as people mingle and wandered throughout the streets, wagons and carriages came and went along the road while people on foot weaved around them and along the sides of the street.

Soron started to wander, heading down the street. Venecia was a strange place to Soron, so many people and some were very exotic looking, some with pale blonde hair, a rarity in the north, others with different hues of skin, ranging from light to dark with all shades in between. The port city was obviously a melting ground, bringing in people from all over the world.

As Soron came to the end of the street he was assaulted with a magnificent view of the ocean. The city streets dropped down a gentle hill to the large docks at the water’s edge, giving Soron a great view of the expansive body of water. Soron could see no end to the ocean, he knew from conversations with travelers to the north that another great continent lay a short sail across the strait. But from where he stood, Soron could only see endless blues of the ocean and the sky. It was a pretty place, Soron decided. Not as majestic as some of the northern wilds, but beautiful and chaotic all at once. Venecia was definitely interesting.

After spending the better part of the morning wandering around the streets of the large city Soron made his way back towards the inn where he stayed. Once there he continued up the other direction looking for the pub where he was to meet Marin. Three doors up, he found the pub.

Walking inside, Soron found Marin sitting at a table with another man.

Marin, seeing Soron, waved him over to the table. “Soron, this is Ramon Ventego. He is on the Council of Venecia, the ruling organization in the city. He is also the trader who’s purchased the goods from our caravan.”

Ramon looked at the mighty northern youth. Ramon had met many large men over the years but Soron stood apart. Before meeting Soron, Ramon had doubted the growing rumors of one man stopping a squadron of elite foot soldiers from taking the caravan. He no longer doubted the rumors. Soron looked like he could take on a whole army. “Nice to meet you Soron, I thank you for looking after my investment. If I can ever do anything for you, please let me know.”

Soron smiled, he had wondered how to make the right acquaintances in Venecia for his own wares, now he had a captive audience that would be honest with him. “Actually Ramon, you might be able to help me now. I brought some trinkets south to sell. They are nothing special, but I was hoping you could tell me what kind of price I might get for them.”

Soron pulled out his small pouch. Over the years, despite his father’s disapproval, Soron had been making jewelry out of the unique black steel his people were known for. He had also been experimenting with adding different minerals to iron to achieve different metals. One of his favorite to work with was adding Hexin to iron. The hexin made a softer white colored metal that was easier to work with and had an interesting look. He combined these exotic metals with small gems and jewels. Soron did not often show people his work but he had brought all of his projects south and hoped there might be a market for the pieces.

Soron took a couple of his small artworks out and showed them to Ramon and Marin. The men carefully examined both pieces. One was a small broach made out of both black and white steel with a small ruby in its center. The other a necklace made of the black steel with three small emeralds set in an intricate design that resembled flower petals.

Ramon looked at the unique jewelry, then back at Soron. This northern youth was an interesting character. He was obviously being honest when he said he wasn’t sure of his goods value, which seemed ridiculous considering how exceptional the quality of the jewelry was. Ramon turned to Marin and laughed “I suppose you won’t back me up if I tell your friend that his work is only work a coin or two?”

Marin joined Ramon in laughter, “No, I ‘m afraid I cannot do that.”

Soron looked at the two men laughing; he wasn’t sure what was so funny. Was his work so poor that he couldn’t even get a couple coins for the pieces? “If you like I can take the gems out, and just sell them. Surely they have value.”

Ramon shook his head; this giant had no idea how valuable his own work was. “Soron you have done me and my friend Marin here a great deal of good over the last week. Saving his life, potentially countless others and you have also insured the safe arrival of the caravan. I had a hefty sum of money invested in that caravan so you have done me a great service. Now I shall return the favor. Leave these two trinkets with me, and I will find buyers for them before the end of the day, and let me assure you the sum will be greater than a coin or two.”

Marin echoed the words of Ramon, “Soron those are exquisite artwork. Black steel is a rarity in this part of the world, and I have never seen it in jewelry before, nor have I seen white steel before either. Your jewelry is unique and will go for a high price. I would consider buying that broach myself but you will get a far greater price for it from Ramon’s buyers. If you have any more of the jewelry, I recommend letting Ramon sell it for you. Any other traders will take a profit off of your work. Ramon and I are in your debt and will make sure you are treated fair in Venecia.”

Soron smiled, the relief he left was immense. These men were not judging him for making jewelry; instead they were being extremely complimentary and helpful. It was a world of difference from how he was used to being treated on the subject. “Thank you Ramon, Marin. I had hoped the pieces held some value but a blacksmith making jewelry is frowned upon by my father. I didn’t know how it would be received here in the south.”