Demon's Tear (The Jantakai Saga Book 1) by R.E. Sanders

Author:R.E. Sanders [Sanders, R.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

‘What do you want? Go away.’

The figure in the doorway looked exactly as Nastja remembered. He had wild, unwashed hair that hung to his shoulders and was dressed in a short, dirty robe that appeared to be made from sacks.

Pale eyes burned intensely from a face that looked too young. At this moment, they gleamed with anger.

They had arrived in Fordon. Nastja and Luara had taken turns driving the wagon through the night, only slowing to a walk once they were well clear of Kereva. They had been determined to keep moving.

By mid-morning, the town of Fordon rose before them.

The town rose on a hill at the north of a wide vale. This was bounded by the Kereva Hills to the south, the King’s Dyke to the east and the bulk of the Singing Mountains rising to the north. All the towns in the area were fortified although local treaties had brokered a fragile peace between Anish and Kotev.

The whole eastern extent of the vale was studded with lakes; sapphires strung on the necklace of the Tohruvy River. They ran in a chain from Kereva northward to the very feet of the Singing Mountains, and Fordon lay beside the greatest, and most northerly of these; Lake Mjafte.

Fordon was built atop a low hill, a solitary sentinel of the higher mountains beyond. The walls encircled the very summit of the hill, and the town huddled on the flat space within.

At the far side of the hill, a grand keep rose. This had been home for generations of a local noble family, and the keep of Fordon was said to be impossible to take. Few armies had tried. The rear of the hill was too steep to climb and the entrance at the front was reached by a winding causeway, cut into the hillside.

To approach the town, travellers or attackers alike were forced to slowly climb this snaking path and sheer, grey stone walls loomed above, bounding a huge gateway.

The gates were wide open and Nastja drove the wagon through them surrounded by a steady flow of other traffic. A constant stream flowed in and out of the town. Wagons, piled high with goods bought or to be sold rumbled on side-by-side with lone traders pushing barrows, as well as simple travellers, mounted or on foot.

Nastja was unsurprised to see groups of dwarves among the crowds. Fordon lay near the trade route they often used between their mountain home and the Rujrweh Pass, the only way north through the Derufin Mountains. She saw only common dwarves in pleated skirts and baggy shirts; their knights and nobles were rarely seen outside of the Severed City.

As she turned the wagon off the cobbled main street and onto a muddy lane, a dwarf woman on the corner clasped her hands before her waist and raised her voice in a clear, simple song.

She sang in Dwarvish, so Nastja could not understand all the words, but the melody was sad and melancholic.

She tugged on the reins and the weary ponies came to a grateful halt before an untidy shack.

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