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Xtra Stuff Members Stories Trai - Part 6
Xtra Stuff Members Stories Trai - Part 6
| Trai - Part 6 |
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| Members Stories - Members Stories | |
| Saturday, 12 April 2008 10:17 | |
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{jcomments on}Trai Part 6 – Journeys start
Cranheart sat just inside the tree line, one leg crossed over the other on an old moss covered tree stump, the spring flowers which had just come into bloom scattered about his feet. The air was warm, the sounds of the woods behind him mingled with the cry of birds that hovered over the harbour. His environment gave him no joy; he didn’t feel invigorated by the sounds and smells of new life around him. He was only aware of the neatly stacked pile of wood that held the diminutive figure of Ironmarks murdered Princess. With a sigh he watched a small party exit through the great gate at the bottom of the slope. Lead by King Trai VIII they moved solemnly towards a waiting cremation. Another group was ascending the path that lead to White Peak, a mixture of town’s folk all dressed in black or dark clothing, a morbid wake come to pay their respects. As the town’s people became aware of the Royal party, conversation died and heads bowed, as the crowd gathered some thirty paces behind the mourning family to allow them the privacy they deserved. Cranheart watched the Town’s people silently form into orderly rows, no sounds of an organizing voice could be heard, no jostling for position or petty bickering. Each person took his or her place next to the person who had preceded them, quietly and without fuss. Most of the Trimar appeared to be present, the crowd was growing as more and more people arrived, until other than a few stragglers the massed populace covered most of the sloping grass land outside of White Peak. The Royal party consisted of Heleana’s five companions who stood directly behind King Trai VIII and his son, Cranheart didn’t wonder at the absence of the Queen, he had know she would not be present. Behind them stood the senior court officials, Cranheart could just make out Franklins wispier hair as it danced across his bald pate. This would have normally brought a smile to Cranheart face, he had always been fascinated by the way the old official’s hair appeared to be trying to escape from his head, but this time his mood was to dark. He had been concerned for the safety of the two heirs, but had not expected such a direct attack upon their person; he cursed himself for being a fool. “Always expect the unexpected” words he had quoted to others a thousands times, but had not heeded himself. Leaning forward he rested his elbows on his knees, watching as King Trai approached the funeral pyre. As the old monarch placed his hand on the dry wood of the pyre, his shoulders sank, his head falling forwards, even from a hundred paces away, Cranheart could hear the sobs, Trai walked over to his father placing his hands on the slumped shoulders. At Trai’s touch the old man’s legs failed him. Trai caught the King as he fell, lifting him to his feet and visibly holding him upright. The sobs continued, some amongst those from the City started to cry, unable to contain their feelings at the sight of their King weeping over his dead daughter. Cranheart saw Franklin and a few of the other officials dabbing at the imaginary dust they had in their eyes, or looking away as if something had attracted their attention. The old warrior could feel his own throat was dry and sore, as he fought back the emotion of the scene before him. Composing himself, the King placed a hand on Trai’s shoulder and nodded to the Prince that he was able to stand on his own. Straightening his shoulders and lift his head, the King address the small group who had arrived with him, but he spoke clearly so those gathered behind them could also hear. As the King spoke of his daughter, her loving nature and gentle soul, Cranheart remembered fondly the small girl he had met when he had first arrived at White Peak, he smiled at the memory. The tiny nymph like child that was Heleana had been full of energy, as inquisitive as her brother, but lacking his naivety. Looking up he saw an official light a torch from his tinderbox and hand it to Trai, carefully Trai pasted the flame to his father. Reaching out with the burning torch the King held the flame to the packed timber, the flames licked hungrily at the dry wood, quickly spreading across the funeral pyre. The two men turned away the burning rest place of the Princess as the heats intensity grew. Walking back, neither man taking his eyes from the fiery scene before them, the heat drove them further and further back, until they rejoined the others who stood a safe distance from the blazing pyre. Even from where he sat, Cranheart could feel the heat wafting over him as the gentle breeze blew in from the sea. Trai lifted a hand to his face, covering his nose and mouth, Cranheart watched as his former student started to walk away from the others, concerned glances following him as he moved towards to the edge of the forest. The Princes pace started to increase, until he was jogging, then, his hand still covering his nose and mouth he started run. Cranheart watched as the Prince run directly towards him, frowning Cranheart wondered what was wrong. Trai stagger into the trees, just a few paces from where Cranheart sat, falling to his knees Trai was violently sick, his body heaving as his body threw the sparse contense of his stomach onto the blanket of leaves and moss that covered the forest floor. Cranheart looked away as the Prince dry retched, his empty stomach bereft of its meager stores. Panting the Prince looked up directly at Cranheart. “I could smell Heleana’s flesh burning” said the Prince tear’s streaming down his face. At the mention of what had caused his vomiting Trai once again leaned forward his body heaving uselessly as it tried to caste out was wasn’t there. Cranheart was looking at Trai, an amazed look on his face. “You can see me” he asked Trai. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand a pale faced Trai looked up at Cranheart. “Of course I can see you; you’re right in front of me” Still looking at Trai as if he were mad, the old man stood and moved back further into the trees and then he wiggled his index finger in a rough figure eight, before moving back to the moss covered stump, sitting, he clasped his hands together on his lap. He looked thoughtfully Trai who was still doubled over, his hands resting on shaky knees, seemingly unaware of the older man. “You should go back to your father, he needs you right now”. The king’s party were staring up at Trai and the mysterious figure that had just appeared from the woods. The King, oblivious to Trai’s departure, was staring blankly at the burning corpse of his daughter. “I know, but its hard…….I feel so….empty, it’s as if someone has taken away a part of me” said the Trai, his voice hushed. “There’s nothing inside, I feel nothing…..until I think of Heleana and then anger and…..hurt wash over me in waves” the emotion in Trai’s voice almost brought tears to the old mans eyes, he knew what the boy was feeling, he had also felt the stab of loss, but he also knew there was nothing he could say or do to make Trai feel better or to come to terms with what had happened. “Go to your father Trai” whispered Cranheart. Trai nodded and started to walk back down the slope, but after a few paces he stopped and turned back to face Cranheart. “Thank you for the sword Cranheart” smiled Trai weakly, before turning back and continuing back to his father. Cranheart shook his head in disbelief at the Princes comment. Even in a time of great sorrow Trai had though to thank him. Smiling Cranheart watched the Prince walk away, confident that he had given the sword to the right person. Standing Cranheart turned away from the mourners below and walked into the forest. All of the masters had missed their original lift home, each of them staying on to attend Heleana’s cremation and with Trai’s passing now postponed indefinitely they had all agreed to take passage on another ship which would be leaving the day after tomorrow. “Need to pack” said Cranheart out loud. He smiled remembering how he and Trai had laughed last time he had spoken those words, he knew it would be a long time until he heard him laugh again. Lying on his bed, Trai stared at the ceiling of his room. Sending his sisters ashes to the winds yesterday had drained the last of Trai’s strength. Mental and emotionally exhausted had taken their toll; his eyes were blood shot and his face haggard. He no long wept when he thought of Heleana, where his heart should be he felt only emptiness, but in his stomach anger growled, getting louder and louder will each passing moment. He lusted now for revenge, to kill the man responsible for his sister’s death, but most of all he wanted to know why. Why did she have to die? But he knew he would never find the answers he needed as long as he was on Ironmark. He had though about speaking with Heleana’s friends, but he knew the three women would know nothing, which left Holgard and Hobard. Holgard would not be forth coming. If anything the man’s apparent contempt for everything Ironmarkian would lead the two of them to blows. Hobard was a possibility, but how to get him away from Holgard. Trai mulled over the problem in his head, but each time he came back to the only possible solution, leaving Ironmark. Two ships were due to leave on the morrow tide. One of the ships would contain his former master and they would simply send him back home once they reached Stormdwell, so his only option was the smaller of the two vessels, the Weaver. He had watched the smaller ship from the battlements earlier that day and while she lacked size he knew from the set of her prow that she was fast. The winds that circled the western continent blew from the west through out the spring and summer months, allowing ships to pass quickly between Ironmark and Stormdwell situated on the north coast, due south of Ironmark, but anyone wishing to travel further south down the west coast would have to circumvent the whole continent, sailing down the east coast to pick up the southern winds or else risk the westerly winds driving them onto the rocky shore line that ran from just south of Stormdwell all the way to Delmare. His mind made up, Trai stood up and started to pack the rucksack he’d acquired, he had also retrieved a bag of ten gold pieces from the treasury, it had been easy to get hold of the gold pieces, he had simply walked into the treasury, nodding at the guards as he past them. Once inside the oval room he had wandered around absent mindedly, until the clerk at the desk was preoccupied, at which point he had picked up the small bag and dropped it into his pocket. He could have asked for the money, but this would have aroused suspicion seeing as all purchases were paid directly from the treasury, why would a Prince need currency would be the question asked. The rucksack had been a more difficult proposition; the quarter master was very diligent man. Trai had strolled around the barracks large military warehouse, with his hands in his pockets for nearly an hour, until eventually the quarter master, his tobacco streaked beard covering his mouth as he spoke, had asked the Prince if he had finished. When Trai had answered that he was still looking the embarrassed and over weight old soldier had asked the Prince if he would mine keeping an eye on his ordered and accounted for stock, afraid to ask the Prince to leave so he could lock the doors. A relieved Trai, who had spent the last hour trying to think of a way to remove the items he needed without being seen had happily responded that it would be his pleasure. With a worried look over his shoulder the portly Quarter master had limped away heading for the nearest toilet. Trai had quickly gathered the items he needed, pushing them into his new rucksack, before poking his head around the corner of the door to check the coast was clear. He then deposited his prize inside the large half empty sand box next to the warehouse. Upon the quarter masters return Trai had spent a few minutes looking at the various store items, before wishing the old soldier a good day and making his escape. Dressed in black trousers and a deep blue shirt, he picked up the rucksack he’d recovered from the sand box, throwing it over his shoulder. Patting his pocket to make sure the gold coins were safe, he then removed a small piece of paper from his inside pocket and placed it on the writing desk, his hand hovered over the paper for few brief seconds, doubt clawed at him, was he doing the right thing, he bent to retrieve Cranheart gift from under his bed. Looking at the long sleek blade he remembered the last time he held the sword, the anger growled louder at the memory, reinforcing his determination and pushing all doubt aside. He would find the man who ordered his sister killed. Focusing on the task at hand he opened his bedroom door carefully, with a quick glance left and right, he moved down the corridor silently. Stopping just outside a small store room he opened the door slowly, placing the rucksack and sword gently on the floor. Turning he took a deep breath and walked down the marble corridor, determination in every stride. As he rounded the natural curve of the corridor he saw the guards walking towards him, hands resting on their swords. The guards had been doubled since the night of the attack and Trai could see from the tension in their faces that these men would not be caught out like their unfortunate comrades. Trai glanced over his shoulder dramatically a couple of times as he approached the men. “Has anyone passed you in the last few minutes” Trai asked the men. Looking at each other quizzically the men replied in unison. “No Sire” “hummmm” said Trai rubbing his chin. The soldiers exchanged confused looks. “It’s probably nothing but I’m sure someone walked past my room heading in this direction” still rubbing his chin Trai gave the men a questioning look. Looking at one another for a third time the men faces took on a serious expression. “We’ll take a look Sire” replied the senior of the four the eagerness in his tone apparent. The four trotted down the corridor, drawing their swords as they left. “I’ll go back to bed then” shouted Trai after them. He listen to the receding sound of their footfalls before walking briskly back to the small store room. Removing a watchmen’s cloak from the rucksack, he wrapped it around himself, pulling the hood over his head. He realized it was a little tight, but it would server its purpose and hide his clothes and face from any curious eyes. Trai made his way to the enclosed court yard slowly, stopping every few paces to listen for the sound of anyone approaching. As he descended the final flight of stairs that lead to the court yard, he wondered at what he was doing. He knew his unannounced departure would cause his father further heart ache and worry, but he knew he would understand once he read the note. Trai stood in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs scanning the court yard for any activity, everything was quiet, but he waited, it took just one person wandering down to the kitchens for a late night snack to spoil his plans. The guards on the battlements ensured no one approached White Peak unannounced, but he wasn’t going to be leaving by the normal route. Happy that no one was about Trai moved towards a door to the left of the kitchens main entrance, he winched as the door creaked, sure that someone would come to investigate the noise, he quickly entered the dark hallway and closed the creaking door behind him. He stood in the darkness waiting for his eyes to adjust. Slowly he started to make out the walls either side of him. The steady dripping of water was the only sound in the dank passageway, careful of any unseen obstacles, Trai edged his way steadily down the passage way, running his fingers along the damp, algae coated walls. The air was cool and filled with moisture; his eyes could just make out pipes running along the tops of the walls, he thought he heard tiny feet running across the top of them, he shivered, rats. He shuffled along for what felt like hours in the claustrophobic hallway, twice he had to duck as the ceiling suddenly sloped downward, forcing Trai to crouch, slowing his progress even more. Ahead he could make out the outline of a raised shape in the middle of the passage way. Reaching out in front of him, Trai moved forward until his hands touched the cold metal surface of the object, running his hands around the edge he realized it was round, his fingers felt a lip where two pieces of metal met. Gripping the top piece of metal he tried to lift the rusted plate, metal ground against metal as the lid slowly came away. With a final heave the plate fell off with a resounding crash. Looking down into the opening Trai’s hair was whipped above his face as the wind below tried to suck him in, with an effort he fell back against the slimy wall before the wind pulled him down. He had found the entrance to the underground caverns that supplied fresh air to White Peak, but he hadn’t counted on the wind being this strong. Squinting in the dark he looked back the way he had come, Trai knew he couldn’t turn back. Reaching out he ran his hands along the inside of the hatch searching for any jagged metal, happy the surface was smooth, if somewhat rusted, he leaned forward, bracing himself he kept his upper body clear of the powerful wind. Lifting his right leg he placed it over and into the hatch, the wind sucked at his leg, his trousers flapping about his ankles. Slowly he eased himself further and further over the lip, his feet dangled in mid air his cloak flying about in his face. Trai strained against the suction that threatened to pull him in, his arms were getting tired as he clung to the side of the hatch. His grip failing Trai resigned himself to the fact he could not hold on, closing his eyes he let go. He tried to relax his body to prevent any serious damage, but as the though pasted through his mind he hit the ground, his cloak swirling around him, the wind tugged and pulled at his clothing. Holding his cloak down with one arm, he pulled his hood from his head with the other. His eyes were watering in the strong wind, but the wind was not as strong as the vacuum caused by the open hatch. Looking up he understood why he was uninjured, the entrance to the gloomy passage way was barely two feet above him. Trai smiled at his good fortune, he had expected a bone breaking fall, but instead of hitting jagged rock he was lying on soft fine sand, the same sand as covered the beach by the harbour. He scooped up a handful of the sand watching as the wind whipped the grains away. Sitting upright Trai faced into the wind, tears torn from his eyes by the wind, if he carried on into the wind eventually he should arrive at the entrance to the underground caverns that lay next to the great wheel that powered the water bellows. Crawling forward on his knees due to the low ceiling Trai set off in search of the entrance. He had given himself four hours to reach the dock front and the Weaver, he was sure he had been no more than two hours, but time in the darkness of the passage way was difficult to gauge, he had better hurry. Trai crawled along inside the cavern, water ebbing and flowing next to him; the waters twinkled and flickered in the poor light guiding Trai as he followed the twists and turns of the underground stream. The cavern was only four foot high at this point, but it spread out either side of Trai, the water to his right, dark shadows to his left. As the time past so the cavern grew, the ceiling was sloping upwards, allowing him to move to a crouch and eventually to walk upright. The cavern ceiling was soon lost in the poor light, disappearing into the darkness above. The river, which had run next to him was dropping away to his right as the path sloped upwards, his calves burning from the ever increasing angle of the slope, he trudged on. His chest heaving with the effort, Trai stopped to catch his breath. As his breathing slowed he thought he heard the lapping of wave, with renewed vigor he climbed the steep slope of the path, the sound of the waves getting louder all the time, gazing up he was rewarded with the sight of softly twinkling stars, they winked at him through the cavern entrance, enticing him forward. Climbing the last few meters, Trai stepped out onto the smooth rocks. Gazing up he saw the white marble of White Peak towering above him, the shadow of the single balcony staring down at him. Trai made his way across the precarious rocks, slowing his pace as his feet slipped on the shiny surface of the black sea worn stone. The rocks became few and further apart until finally his feet touched the fine sand of the beach. Hidden from view of White Peak, by the cliff it sat upon, Trai headed for the steps that let to the single pathway between Trimar and the Citadel. The sand pulled at his weary legs as he spotted the steps ahead, breaking into a staggering jog Trai reached the steps climbing them two at a time in his haste to reach the Weaver. The first signs of light were visible on the horizon and the tide would soon be turning. If he missed the weaver all his efforts would be for nothing. As he stepped onto the boardwalk that defined the boundary of the beach, he could see the two ships moored along side the docks. As he walked towards the weaver he could see figures boarding the larger ship, he slowed his pace, fearful of running into one of his masters. Ducking his head so no one could see his face, he approached the Weaver slowly. Other than the passengers and crew of the larger ship Seaborn, no one else was on the dock. With his head still bowed, Trai walked up the gang plank of the Weaver. A gruff voice stopped him in his tracks. “Think you are on the wrong ship mate” Trai looked up at the source of the voice. Leaning on the side rail, a mug of steaming coffee in his hand stood a sun browned man, a cloth hat to small for him sat a top a round hairless head, two large brown eyes resting either side of a large flat nose. The man gestured towards the other ship with his coffee, slopping some over the side of the battered cup. Trai looked towards to Seaborn, the crew were busy casting off the shore lines and preparing to set sail. “You better hurry or you’ll miss her” grinned the weather beaten sailor. Trai continued up the gang plank until he stood next to the sailor. “I seek passage on this ship….Sir” said Trai politely. “You do, do you” the sailor removed his cloth hat and rubbed his shiny bald head. Standing upright the sailor gazed up at Trai. “Don’t know what your mother fed you as a child, but must have been good” stated the sailor impressed by Trai’s height. Still rubbing his head the sailor stuck his hand out. “Rubon’s the name, now what could you offer me that would make me take another on passenger” Trai clasped the man’s hand and shook it once. Rubons looked down at the gold coin that glimmered in his hand; he whistled a single high pitched note as he stared at the coin. “Now that is an offer I can’t refuse” Thrusting out his hand again Rubon said. “Welcome aboard”, a huge smile on his face the jovial sailor took Trai by the arm and lead his through a hatch below the steering deck. Trai bent over almost double as he followed Rubons below the main deck. As they cleared the hatch, Trai still doubled over, resting one hand on one of the cross beams watched Rubons as he turned the gold coin over and over in his hand. Looking up at Trai, the still smiling sailor said “That’s two in one day” Gesturing with his hand Rubons pointed Trai in the direction of an even smaller door. “That be your cabin, like I said you’ll have to share. Taking his rucksack from his shoulder, Trai crouched even further down as he opened the door to his new temporary home. He hoped his companion for the journey would be amicable. Realizing he had thought of a name for himself Trai racked his brain for a plausible name and trade, but the sight that met him as he entered the room made him realize the pointlessness of lying. “Didn’t think you were to make it” said Cranheart humerously.
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