The Descendants Book One: The Broken Scroll (4 page)

The middle of the day passed and Davin’s hunger got the best of him.  He said farewell to Roland and decided to head over to the tavern across the street.  Davin usually didn’t go to
The Flamin’ Ale
simply because it was always so busy.  He preferred the quiet, darker atmosphere of the
Dead Man Brewery
place because it was more off the beaten path. 

He trotted down the brick street and headed toward the closest tavern, fearing the crowd that he would find there the whole way. 

Inside the tavern things were bustling as expected.  The place was packed corner to corner.

Over by the bar he saw the owner, Prack, taking orders and keeping busy.  He was large, heavily bearded, and frightening looking to those who didn’t know his gentle nature.  He was also the only Guildsman in Lemirre, invited i
nto to the Merchant’s Guild a couple of years ago.  He wore the gray, circular patch on the chest of his cloak proudly and attended meetings whenever his guild went on tour away from the capital. 

Partly why no one else tried to join the guild of their profession in this town was because of its location.  The headquarters were all at the capital, a long trip from Lemirre. 

A man rose from the bar and headed for the exit.  Davin decided to take the empty seat left in his place. 

“Don’t see you in here much.  What brings you to my place today, Davin?  .

“I’m just hungry, Prack, nothing else.  I’ll have the house special,” Davin said.  Prack left Davin to place his order. 

Davin listened to the conversations going on around the room while he waited for his food.  He remembered a time when he laughed, talked, and actually enjoyed the world going on around him. 

A short while later a plate of ribs and corn was placed before him.  The first bite had barely hit the bottom of his stomach when a man in formal attire stepped through the threshold of the building. 

Davin recognized the man’s uniform as that worn by the kingdom’s Royal Postmen.  Each town usually saw one of them once every couple of weeks. They
generally only stopped at posthouses and inns.  It was highly unusual to see this man in a tavern.  And only official statements from the king himself or the army’s commander came by postman.  Routine mail came by trained eagle. 

The man carried with
him several rolled pieces of parchment.  He nailed one next to the door and handed one to Prack. He didn’t seem bothered by the lull in conversation.  In under a minute he was gone again.  The patrons in the building became gradually louder again. 

Davin turned back t
o his lunch to find the barman reading parchment.  He seemed deep in thought and Davin didn’t want to bother him.  Prack spoke out loud to no one in particular. 

Prack swore,
and then said, “What a shame.”

Davin didn’t really want to talk, but
curiosity got the better of him.  He usually knew better than to start Prack talking.  It was going to ruin his nice quiet meal. 

“What is?
”

Prack looked at him, obviously not exp
ecting a response from anyone, especially Davin.  He handed the parchment to Davin to read. 

As decreed by King O’Hara,

First Captain Deverell, commander of the Grand Talamaraon Army, will be arriving in Lemirre in two days.  He will be leading a small regimen.  This stop will require the cooperation
, respect, and fealty that would be expected of one in the presence of the king himself.  Anyone person in violation of this command will be considered in act of treason and will be taken to the capital to be tried and imprisoned. 

His Royal Highness,

Artair O’Hara

This was
exactly the kind of thing Davin didn’t want to get into.  He avoided town for this reason.  But here he was.  He wasn’t leaving. 

“You have nothing to hide from the king, do you?” he asked at last. 

“No, no.  I mean that most people here haven’t been too happy with O’Hara since he took the throne four years ago.  You saw the way they reacted when the announcement was made.”  He pointed at his patrons.  “I don’t think many in the kingdom like O’Hara right now, but no one’s ever going be the first to stand up against him.  That’s my opinion, anyway.”   

Davin smirked.  “Isn’t that the way it always is.  People have to know what’s in it for them.  And all they see right now
is punishment or death,” Davin said, starting to sound emphatic.  “What chance would a group of any size have against the Grand Army?” 

Prack thought about it for a second.  “Maybe the mere fact that his people would unite against him would be enough to wake him up.” 

“But who would be bold enough to start something like that?” Davin asked.  He attempted to picture the possibility of Lemirre joining a cause with other cities in the kingdom.  It proved difficult.  The people here enjoyed the fact that they were more self-sufficient and isolated than the rest of the kingdom of Talamaraon. 

“I actually cannot think of anyone who would risk themselves for the common good like that,” Prack said, staring away from Davin pensively.   

Davin asked, “King Avery O’Hara was better liked I hear.”  Prack nodded and Davin continued. “I never paid that much attention, but I remember people seeming much happier during his rule.” 

“
King Avery O’Hara’s death was unexpected.  I remember when it happened; the whole kingdom was in an uproar.  He was at the peak of his popularity when he died.”  Prack shook his finger at Davin, his voice growing softer.  “There were more than a few that remained skeptical after it was announced that he had committed suicide.  Many believed it was murder, but it could never be proved.”

“No one investigated it any further?”

Prack nodded with intensity.  “Oh, I’m sure they tried.  But that’s the problem with royal deaths.  You can’t get very far when the king himself tells you to leave it alone, can you?” 

Davin started to ask why the king would be beyond investigation
and then stopped himself.  As Prack eyeballed him, Davin shrugged.  “As long as it doesn’t affect me directly, I don’t really care.”

Prack looked at Davin and frowned.  “I’ve got family in the Greenlands.  They tell me to
be careful because the Grand Army isn’t just taking criminals.  People have been taken away for simply looking at his soldiers’ in a funny way.  The new First Captain is taking his job very seriously.  And the governors are really sticking their noses into everything and reporting back to the O’Hara.”

Davin looked at Prack skeptically.  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

When Prack didn’t respond right away Davin asked, “What would the King have to gain from that?”

“Isn’t it obvious, how else wou
ld the King control us, but through fear.” 

Davin shook his head, “There’s got to be another reason, but I’m not going to sit around here and argue about it.  It sounds like no one has anything better to do here than talk about the King’s poor decisions.  When O’Hara, this First Captain, or the governors have finally crossed the line, people will take action.  That’s the belief I hold.”

Prack groaned.  “I don’t know.  Even with the Guild Directors advising the King now, it doesn’t mean things will get any better.  Not with the governors and the army in control.” 

“We’ll see,” Da
vin said.  “But in the meantime, I’ve got some meat to trade.”  Prack waved him off. 

After finally leaving the tavern behind, he realized the day was getting later and regretted putting off the main reason he came into town today.  His pointless and redundant conversation with Prack hadn’t helped.  He made his way to the end of the main street and turned off the brick-paved road onto a dirt covered side street. 

He stopped in front a shop that said “Brax’s Meats, Trade or Buy.”  Some traded meats for other meats.  Some traded meats for money, and some just simply bought meat. 

Davin was not too fond of Brax, but he was only trader in town who had taken his Crocata meat in the past.  Brax was all he had right now. 

He entered the small wooden store and looked round.  The smells were always strong in the meat shops.  His eyes finally settled on Brax.  The white-haired old man had bony hands and skin that seemed as if it would peel right off.  It loosely clung to his body and was marked with gashes and scars from a lifetime of experiences. He still managed a strong gait, however, as he walked to the counter. 

“Davin,” he called out, “so what have you got for me today?  No more Crocata meat, I hope.”

“You’re not going to like it, but I need money.  You’re the only trader in town who takes this meat from me.”  Davin held up the beast.

Brax shook his head, “You know what I told you the last time.  I can’t trade this anymore.  Not enough will buy it.”

“I promise beyond all promises, this is the last time,” Davin begged.  In the back of his mind, he knew the attempt was futile.

“I’m said no.  You know that if you had brought me one of those other animals that roam the forest, I’d be more than willing to make a deal.  Bring me a Cockatrice or even Ercinee, anything else but Crocata.  That’s my final word.”

Davin wasn’t about to bring up why he hadn’t been able to catch those animals lately.  It was a waste of breath on Brax. 

Davin yelled out before he even knew what he was sayi
ng, “What am I supposed to do?  You know what will happen if I can’t support myself.”

“Yes, I do,” Brax spoke very confidently,” you’ll have to go find a job as a farm hand or head for the Aca
deem.”   

“I refuse to be forced to do that
.”

“Well, you may have to get used to it, just the way of the world, son.  Every person in the kingdom
is either born rich, learns a trade at the Acadeems, or works a menial job.  And I know you aren’t the first option.  Perhaps cleaning the toilets of the rich might suit you.  Oamlund has several mansions and it’s only a few days away.” 

Now Brax was goading him. 
Davin didn’t want to listen anymore.  This was the speech he had heard for a long time, at least since he was old enough to work a trade. 

Davin’s face grew fierce.  “I will get by on my own, with or without your help.”  He stormed toward the door, the Crocata over his back.
 

As he reached the threshold Brax spoke one more
time, barely audible, but serious.  “Exactly, Davin, that’s the problem.” 

This did nothing to make Davin feel better.  In fact, it made him feel worse.  So what if he didn’t rely on anyone to get by.  It just meant he was a little more independent. 

There were times when he loved that he was isolated from the horrors and problems of the rest of the world.  Something inside of him- maybe it was Roland- nagged, telling him he couldn’t live like this forever.  He knew that.  He just wasn’t ready for the change yet.  The solitude was necessary.

The sun sinking behind the hills made him think of something he hadn’t done in quite a
while.  On top of the hill by his house was a great view of the kingdom that he never got tired of. 

Without really willing it, he trekked up the hill.  The side he climbed was on a shallow incline and he had practically worn a path into its undergrowth. 

A few minutes later he reached the top.  The sun was still up, just barely.  

The other side of the hill was more of a rocky cliff face that fell straight down.  At the edge of the cliff sat a lone rock, perfect seat for a great view. 

It really has been awhile since I’ve been up here
, he thought
.
  The last time he’d come up this way it had been with Roland, months ago. 

The sun began to sink below the horizon line casting a golden façade on the kingdom.  From this spot Davin could see the Golden Plains that existed just below the foothills.  The open, rolling landscape went outward to the end of his line of vision.  Beyond that place were the Greenlands, where the majority of the kingdom’s population resided.  It housed several cities, all within short distances of each other.  He’d never been far outside the foothills his whole life, but others in Lemirre talked about their travels a lot, including Roland.    

Farther north Davin was less sure about.  He knew the Capital, Eire, was in the northeast corner of the kingdom of Talamaraon. There was an expansive desert as well.  Other kingdoms lay across the seas, but from what he understood they all kept to themselves for the most part.  Few ever travelled that far from his small town to be able tell stories of the faraway lands. 

It took a few minutes for him to realize that there was something odd about his sight.  As he squinted into the distance, he noticed his vision seemed to have improved.  He blinked and looked again.  There was definitely something strange going on.  His eyes again focused on the distance, and instantly he saw an enhanced detail of things farther away.

This was very puzzling.  No one he had ever met had ever spoken of this ability.  He couldn’t believe it. 

Was he going crazy or was this actually happening?  He stood bewildered, aching for an explanation.