Chapter 7

Aston spent the next three days getting to know the two girls while he waited for the roads to dry enough for his wagon to travel on them. He learned more about the boy that they had slept with and he wondered how somebody could enchant stones as he could. Milinda told him about the new freezer for the butcher shop. That impressed him more than anything else they had told him this boy, Ledger had done. The ability to freeze and store meat long term was a great thing for the town as a whole. They could store more meat for the winter than anybody else. He learned that this Ledger was heading towards Terin’s Crossing, so he was pretty sure he would never meet up with him.

It was on the last night he stayed at the Inn when both girls, Milinda and Verra came to him. At first, he was reluctant, but when two young lady’s offer themselves for a night, who was he to refuse them. They both thanked him in the morning as he hitched up his horses to the wagon and loaded the supplies he had bought while he waited for the roads the dry out. It was only later that day when it finally hit him, they had thanked him for what he was leaving them with, or so they hoped. He almost turned back to ask them, but decided against it and sped his horses up to put a little extra distance between himself and them. Sometimes running away is the best policy when a woman is on the hunt.

It was two more days before he reached the next town on this road. He had passed other travelers going the other way and discovered this was the main trade road through the region. Aston was able to stop for a day and rest his horses and restock on grain for them. The Inn was built the same as the last one. When he commented on this to the owner he got a history lesson.

The owner of this establishment was also a Brewman. The family had started out with one Travelers Inn seven generations back. Over time as the family grew, rather than fight over the property as the elders passed on, the younger men moved on to the towns up and down the wide, shallow valley. By the last count, the Brewman clan owned twenty-five inns and stores. Aston asked about anybody having a problem with one family owning and controlling so much of the trade.

“Boy, over time most folks have just come to accept us as part of the landscape. We help keep the roads open when possible, make sure the trade runs to Tres and Riversbend happen. We even have an annual run as far as the Terin’s Crossing. The farmers depend on us and we on them, so things work out well. The one thing we avoid if possible is kingdom politics. We let others handle that headache so long as they don’t get greedy on us.”

Aston was happy that a region of the land had found a way to survive and stay happy in a world that was slowly coming apart. Aston had avoided trying to push anybody to do his bidding, so he did not think about his hidden talent. He still hoped it had been a fluke that it had happened that one time.

The first night away from this last town, he camped out and rested after feeding his horses. Frayn was acting disturbed and didn’t want to settle down with a feed bag. When he tried to settle him, Aston asked the horse what was wrong, knowing it was silly to ask and not expecting an answer.

He was shocked when he received the image of a wolf in his mind. “A wolf Frayn, you smell a wolf nearby?” he asked. Frayn threw his head back and nodded to Aston. Aston stopped and looked at the horse, then looked around into the growing dark.

“There is no way I just heard my horse answer me like that,” he said out loud. For a second he tried to ignore the image he was still seeing, a wolf closing in on a horse in a clearing. He spun around and faced Frayn, “Is this happening now, nearby?”

Frayn looked at Aston, then shook his head in a very human-looking no.

“You are showing me what happened to you the time you wandered off into the brush, aren’t you.”

Frayn nodded yes.

Aston looked at Frayn, wondering if he was dreaming. He had never been able to communicate like this before. The three mares looked at him as if to say, just keep thinking that Master. Frayn snorted at the mares and they vanished as suddenly as they had come. Frayn settled down now and munched at his grain, settling in for the night.

Aston woke up with a start, sitting up and looking around frantically for a minute. When he calmed down, he thought about the dream he had just experienced. His horse’s talking to him? That was worse than weird. He glanced at the sky and saw he still had much of the night ahead of him. The horses were asleep and the world mostly quiet. The main noise was from bugs and frogs calling out for mates. He glanced up when the sound of wings passed overhead, a night bird of some sort out hunting he guessed.

He took a moment to add wood to the fire then settled down to try and get a little more sleep. He slept and slanted green eyes came to him and he heard a woman’s giggle in the far distance then it faded away. Just before he woke, another set of eyes, these black with red irises that looked like small fires of hell looked down upon him and glared with absolute hate. “I will find you, Druid, I will find you and feed on your very life energy before this is over with.”

Now he woke, scrambling to his feet, pulling his whip up, ready for the fight of his life. He looked around and didn’t see anything amiss with his small camp. The horses snorted at him to remove the feed bags and get moving. He cleaned his camp, put the horses in harness, and rode away from this camp as quickly as the rutted road would allow. He was just entering the next town on the road when he hit a deep rut and he heard a cracking sound behind him. When he was on the smoother dirt, he stopped to find out what had broken.

He groaned with displeasure when he saw a broken spoke on the left rear wheel. On closer examination, he could see three more had cracks and would break soon as well. He drove to the inn and arranged to stable the horses, paying for several days. He hoped they had a cartwright that could help with the repairs. He carefully drove the wagon to the inn, making sure to avoid the worst of the holes and ruts. The stable boy told him they did have a smithy that did work on wagon repairs. Once he had directions, he walked the horses, steering them to save as much of the broke wheel as he could.

He didn’t make it. On one bump he heard a cracking sound from that wheel and the wagon sagged. He could see the cracked spokes had failed and the wheel collapsed, crushing the steel rim. He cursed quietly at the bad luck and maneuvered the horses to get the wagon to the side, out of the way of traffic. This town was busier than the last three he had stopped in.

He asked a passerby about the cartwright and was pointed to a building just up the street. Seeing his destination so close, he led the horses towards the smithy. Aston stepped inside and saw a mountain of a man at the forge. He was pounding a rod of iron down and preparing it to cook more carbon into it to make steel. He waited until the man had placed the rod into the forge then introduced himself.

“Good sir, I am Aston Grey. I have a bit of a problem and have been informed you might be able to assist me in fixing it.”

The man looked down and Aston. He stood close to seven feet tall and was wide enough he would have trouble getting through some doors. His arms had muscles, and the muscles seemed the have muscles on them. His apron was singed and dark with the smoke of the coal fires. His hands were massive and looked like they could crush Aston in an instant.

“I’m Greggor. What is this problem you think I can help you with?” he asked with a voice that rumbled like distant thunder.

“My wagon has a wheel that gave up just before I could get it here. It broke a spoke just outside of town and I was hoping to make it here before it failed completely. I didn’t make it.”

Greggor smiled, “Well mister, you have come to the right place. Is the rim intact?” he asked.

Aston shook his head and answered, “No, it has been crushed out of shape. I doubt it can be salvaged.”

“Do you now, we’ll see about that. Show me.” Aston led the big man to his wagon and Greggor grunted. “Hmmm, you may be right on the condition, but these can be heated and reshaped you know.” He grabbed the crushed rim and pulled it free, snapping another of the ruined spokes in the process. “Take one of those that hasn’t broken and run down the street to the sawmill. They can whip up a dozen new spokes in a day. Make sure they use the hardest rock maple. That will last longer than this mountain oak will.”

Greggor inspected the other three wheels and pointed out cracking in all the spokes. “Whoever it was that made these used wood that had not been fully cured before it was milled down. You can see where the sap leaked out in a few spots and the cracking because of it. Tell them you need five sets of eight each, also a full set of wood rims, number fours if I am sizing this right.”

He saw the look on Aston’s face, “Wheels come in six standard sizes that are used all over. It makes repairs like this easier than having to custom make each wheel from scratch.” Greggor looked at the load in the back of the wagon, “Are you taking this to sell boy?”

Now Aston had reason to get angry, “No, I am a Master farrier and this is my shop.” He began releasing the tack and getting the horses ready to move. “I need to take my team back to the inn and get them stabled until the repairs are finished. Then I will look into getting the spokes and wood rims.”

“Now, now son, no need to get all fussy with me. It just seems you look too young to be a master at shoeing horses, much less smithing.”

“I’m sorry Greggor. This has been a very trying time for me. I am not out on the road by my choice.” Aston turned to start the horses in the direction they needed to go then paused. He reached into the inside breast pocket of his tunic and pulled out one of his coin purses. He extracted two Plat Royals and handed them to Greggor. “This should cover the repairs on all the wheels I hope.” He turned away again without another word, led his horses back up the street he had come down.

Greggor stared at the two coins, wondering who this kid really was to just hand over enough coin to repair the wagon three times over. “Well, I guess I need to get busy,” he said out loud to nobody. Greggor called into the back of the shop and three boys came out at a run. “Get that wagon dragged over here now, then get it up on the blocks with all the wheels pulled.” A smaller boy came out from the back looking afraid. “Frankie, grab a spoke and run to the woodshop, we need enough for six wheels. Tell him I will need hubs and rims if he has them on hand, otherwise to get busy on making them.” Before the boy could take off, he handed him one of the coins, “Tell him he is getting paid in advance for once and to hustle, this is an important client.”

Frankie looked at the coin and blanched. He had never seen, much less held a coin of such value before. He closed his hand tight enough to make the coin dig into his flesh and took off at a run to the woodshop at the edge of town. The wood mill was located there because the river ran fast and steep, making for a good water wheel power source for the mills.

The mill owner listened and started to object to the size and speed of the order until Frankie handed him the coin. Frankie waited and the miller called all the woodworkers over and started issuing orders. “The Miller looked and Frankie, “Run back and tell Greggor we will have everything delivered shortly after sun up, now hustle and go pump that forge for the steel rims he will need to prepare.” Frankie was off like a demon was on his tail.

“Mister Greggor, he said the parts will be here shortly after sunrise.” Frankie didn’t wait for instructions, he knew what would be needed and began his chore of bringing the large forge up to operational temperature to begin heating the steel to fit the rims. Steel was harder to work than iron and needed more heat.

Aston took his time returning to the inn. He was tired and his horses seemed worn down as well. The last two weeks had been pure hell for the most part: The old city, then the inns, taverns, and towns. He also felt some guilt about those two girls, had he given them more children? Then there were the dreams. Talking to his horses, the green eyes laughing at him, the red eyes wanting to kill him. It was almost too much to handle.

The Axle Inn’s stables took in his horses and Aston was able to rent a room for a few nights. He knew the coins would expedite the repairs, but he figured an extra day or two’s rest would do him and his horses some good. The food was pretty much the same as the last several places he had stopped at. One serving girl took interest in him but he politely turned her advances down. He knew she used her body to earn extra income, but he just wasn’t in the mood for sex at this time. He was learning many things now, the biggest being that his actions could have lasting consequences for others after he had moved on.

Aston didn’t think about the dreams from the previous night when he went to sleep, so he was caught off guard when the green eyes came and watched him as he slept. They didn’t do anything but watch and wait. It was getting towards the morning when things happened. The red eyes appeared and started to come at him. The green eyes blocked them and he heard a warning from the green eyes to the red.

“Be warned Blood Queen, you dare to tamper in my realm and you will suffer if you don’t withdraw. I know who you are, where you are, and whom it is you serve. He fears me girl, so do not trouble this one again. He is under my protection, as are the rest. Now off with you.” A sudden bright flash of green light made the red eyes vanish and Aston sat up with a cry of pain, his head pounding from a sudden headache. He heard a faint whisper, like a fading dream, “Sorry about that,” then it was gone. Another presence was in the background, a blackness that seemed to radiate cold. He could feel it was not pleased about something, then it too vanished.

The Blood Queen Chambers

Far away, the Blood Queen screamed in pain as her head just about exploded from the surge of mental energy that assailed her mind. She released the crystal sphere she held and shuddered in fear. This creature was new to her. “Master, what was that? Those eyes, they hurt me.”

“The damned Elven line lives on still. Damn them to the hell’s,” the vampire snarled, “I should have fought them harder and killed them all when I had the chance. Those are the eyes of something that escaped a dead universe many long ages long gone. It is bound to a single bloodline from the old worlds. Damn, damn, damn that entire family for all eternity!”

The Blood Queen sat, holding her aching head, she couldn’t believe that a single power could block her from the dream realm. It had taken months for a glassblower to produce the perfect glass sphere that would work for scrying. Now she was actively being blocked from using it by an unknown enemy of her Masters. “Master, is there a way around them so I can still use the eye to follow the ones in question?”

“No.” The finality of that one word sent shivers of fear down her spine. “Keep the glass, but don’t use it unless the need is dire.” He went silent and would not speak again that day.

Aston

Aston checked in with the Cartwright and found that his wagon would be repaired by the end of the day. ‘Will you need more coin to finish or additional materials?” he asked Greggor.

Greggor smiled as he pounded away at the heating steel rim. “No boy, you paid more than enough to cover for all the work needed.” He turned the section he was working back into the glowing door in the large forge. “I inspected the undercarriage last night. I am having a cross member replaced right now. It was cracked and would have failed soon.”

“Thank you Greggor. I can care for horses and the basics for them, but being a Cartwright was never on the top of my list of skills I thought I would need,” said Aston.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where are you heading?” asked Gregger.

“For now, I am trying to get the Tres. From there, I hope to join a caravan going west to the Cove.” Aston sighed, “It just feels like I keep running into blockades every few days that slow me down.”

“Maybe you need to slow down and stop pushing so hard,” said Greggor. “You have plenty of time as I have contacts out that way. The next major caravan will not be arriving at Tres for another two months. That one will be the last heavy run west for the year, and it will be the safest one to travel with.”

Aston considered this new information carefully before asking, “How far am I from reaching Tres now?”

“If the weather holds, and it never does, about two more weeks at a steady pace. When you reach the next town, there you will turn south. Things will get a bit rougher after that as you will be leaving the Brewman controlled roads.” He smiled and shook his head, “That family was the best thing to ever arise from the wreckage of the old lands. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some wheels to build,” he turned and went back to shaping the steel rims he was working on.

Aston walked around town, this one called Rams Crossing, checking stores and talking to the residents. He learned more about the local history and found that the folks were happy with the way the road was being run. Being on the trade roads made for a good living for those that ran supply and resource shops. He stopped at one and found a supply of steel horseshoe blanks. He bought a dozen and continued on his tour. He was able to restock his grain supply for the horses and food stocks for himself here. This town seemed to have more than the last several he had stopped in.