Pagewalker (14 page)

“Oh really? Well I will keep the t-shirt, it
just needs a rub down with a cloth but thank you for the rest of
these.” I said as I took the pile from her and handed her the
hoodie I was wearing. I made my way back upstairs after thanking
Shaw for the amazing breakfast and began to change into the clothes
she had left for me. To my surprise she had left me a kilt. Now I
have to admit my emotions were all over the show at this point.
Firstly. A skirt? Really? No way I was going to wear that. Then I
thought about having to blend in, the Soundgarden t-shirt was a bit
of a give away, but when I reluctantly put the kilt on the grey and
black tartan went well with the black t-shirt and the black boots I
was wearing. I felt like Jonathan Davis from Korn! Well….if he was
cast in Braveheart. I also figured that since this isn’t Scotland I
don’t have to go `full Scotsman’ so I kept my Calvin Kleins on
underneath. It was a security thing. Not to mention the fact that
Northland’s weather was much like the north coast of Ireland, so
pretty cold.

I made my adjustments and wrapped the sort of
shawl, cloak tartan around me. It acted like a jacket with a hood
and also a body warmer. I knew now that my legs would be freezing
but it wasn’t my main concern. I descended back down the wooden
staircase into the main pub, it was still too early for anyone to
have arrived but it felt about mid day now. Tessa was outside, I
could see her through the door sniffing around the bushes, the
horse posts and cattle troths. She then proceeded to squat and
leave a gift for an unobservant wonderer. I didn’t feel guilty. We
weren’t in Belfast now, there were no £50 charges for dog fowling
here, I hoped.

Shaw walked me to the door and handed me what
looked to be a large stick. It was tipped with iron coverings at
either end. I unscrewed one of the ends to find a point. A bladed
spear head to be precise. Shaw winked at me.

“You can never be to careful lad, I haven’t
needed to use it myself but again, you are headed to Renir. You
know the stories now. Just hope there are no more to tell when you
arrive!”

I made my leave with Tessa at my side, her
tail wagging uncontrollably, she jumped up in front of me, kicking
off my chest with excitement. Her mouth wide and tongue hanging
out. We headed back onto the path we had been walking the day
before. Shaw had told me a few last things about Renir before we
left, such as, Renir is the second largest city in Northland. It is
mainly a trading town, and is known for its strange goods from the
goblin isles and passing ships, often pirated while lost on the
Troll gap coast.

A large River brings rich deposits of silt
and gold dust from Battle lake down to the town, where it is
extracted, sifted, cleaned and stored in the large, armoured
warehouses by the river side. All of which run by the several
competing merchants’ guilds. From there, the gold is exported all
over Northland.

The problem is however, that all that Gold
has its drawbacks. Crime and theft are still rife in the city. The
guards fight to gain control over the people but so many of them
are often called away on crusades by king Dertrid of Sáann. The
classes are very divided in Renir. Many who work with the guilds
live lavish lifestyles of indulgence, and every pleasure
imaginable. Often at the expense of the lower classes who scavenge
for scraps but feel safer in the walk of Renir than outside. Theft
and black market trade of fencing stolen goods is a second industry
conducted under the streets of Renir. Most criminal activity from
Northland is conducted, contracted, started and finished in Renir’s
underworld.

The river is so full of sulphur that it is
virtually useless as a source of food or of drinking water. Trade
from outside of Northland is paramount to Renir’s survival. The
farmland nearby is barren and yields little crops. Unlike Sáann, a
self-sufficient metropolis of abundance.

Renir houses the only prison in Northland.
Executions are not common but are still served for the vilest of
crimes. The prison is well known to be overpopulated and many
criminals are able to escape with out notice for days because
staying on top of the numbers is so difficult for such a small
force.

The road to Renir was not the most scenic of
roads. The forests were behind us and mostly flat gravel and hard
dirt fields engulfed us as we made our way toward to buildings
growing from the horizon. It wasn’t all bad, Tessa had large open
spaces for me to throw the collection of sticks she brought me. It
always amazed me, no matter how barren, desolate or flat the land
was, this dog could always manage to find sticks the perfect size
for throwing. Clean sticks too, the bark chewed of so they were
smooth to touch and sailed better through the air. At least one of
us was enjoying the trek we were making. I kept my staff close to
my right leg as I walked, trying to get into a rhythm. It is a lot
most hassle that you would think carrying a large stick with you.
It didn’t help me as I walked. I was able bodied and fit enough.
Maybe an old man would need one but not me. It was more of a safety
thing for me now. Maybe once I reach Renir I could fashion a strap
to put this on my back and free up my hands. It was a pain having
to set the staff down to throw the stick for Tessa every five
minutes. The path was widening as we made our way closer. More
gravel and harder ground. Must have been from the many that
travelled this way. It felt like we were now walking the right
road. Our cross country expedition had ended. The Rebels rest inn
was but a speck behind us now. All that was visible was a tiny
whiff of smoke coming from the chimney.

My heart was splitting as we made our way
closer to the city. We had walked for hours and the walls seemed
higher with ever step we took in their direction. My heart split in
two because I was torn with separate hopes. Firstly I hoped Sarah
was in Renir. I wanted more than anything to hold her again, smell
her hair, feel her skin, I could even hear her banter-full insults
about the clothes I wore and would welcome them more than ever. My
second thought was that I hoped she was not here and had headed
east. With all I had heard about Renir I hoped to god that she did
not step foot inside and that she was safe. I cursed myself for not
elaborating about Renir when I wrote Dertrid’s Deed.

If I had only described the city it would
have looked better and been safer. I wanted Northland to be
everything Ireland should be. Peaceful, kind beautiful and most
importantly, without civil war. I had known enough hatred in my
life caused by religion and politics being mixed together in a
viral, disgusting way. The closer we got to the city the more I
hoped for the second option. Bad thought entered my head of my wife
being here lost and alone in this dangerous city.

I thought back to a time we had been on
holiday in Valencia in Spain. We visited the massive indoor markets
there and for only a split seconds our hands were separated as a
group walked between us pushing us to either side of the stalls. In
that short moment I lost sight of her and the accumulation of us
being abroad, not speaking the language, knowing no one else, not
knowing our surroundings and waling in separate directions to find
each other, scared me half to death. I hated feeling like that
again.

Missing her so much it hurt.

Tessa must have felt my worry and heartache
because she had run back to me and clung close to my legs as we
walked towards the large looking and ominous gates. There was a
portcullis and a tar pit overhead as we walked under the archway.
The portcullis half raised a few feet above my head but still lower
than half of the archway.

The city was so much larger once we passed
the threshold. It had the feel of a place still under construction.
Some stone some wood, lots of tightly packed scaffolding, logs of
many different shaped zig-zaged up and out to be strong enough to
hold several men. There were what looked like guard towers around
the city. High thin buildings with no lower doors only ladder that
had been bolted into the stone. They stood alone with no walkways
between. Only connected by a thin but large wall, created entirely
of thin pine tree trunks. All cut to the same height with
sharpened, pointed tips. Most likely to stop anyone climbing in, or
out. The streets were in no recognisable or visible order. You
could see clearly the age of the buildings by the rot on the walls
and exterior support beams. Over the years building must have been
built wherever the land was flat. No site planning was in order in
this city. Just buildings and houses erected wherever there was
room. The streets were wider in places and narrower. Only at first
glance from the distance of buildings. On closer inspection every
larger section was made narrow by stalls. Most of which protruded
from the buildings, Shop fronts that were the downstairs to the
traders homes most likely. Awnings reached out into the middle of
the walkways. Most touching the opposite. Casting a shade on the
entire mud heavy path ways. Traders shouted over one another with
offers and trying to entice customers with continuing competitive
prices. The streets were all on a hill of different degrees of
incline. All streets led up to the largest building in the centre
of the city. A Large stone structure that put me in the mind of
Dundrum castle in County Down, back home. A Norman Keep that has
stood the test of time and still stads strong and powerful now. In
fact, it looked EXACTLY the same. Only not ruined but the way
Dundrum castle once was. This must have been an escaped and
fleeting thought I had while I was creating this place? If Dundrum
castle was in Northland, what else could be here?

The banners that hung from it were coats of
arms of some sort. Like a county flags. There was a long blue
banner with with black trimming. On the blue base was a silver fish
and a white horse. I guessed that this represented the Stallion
from fish haven. The one Kain-finn had brought from the hag to save
the thane. I was enjoying the fact that I had learnt some history
from a land I created, that I did not write. There is a power and a
magic in the uncontrollable I believe.

We made our way through the streets. Passing
traders selling all forms of goods. Most had gold in them
somewhere. The clothes and garments had gold lacing, the pottery
and crockery had inset gold designs, even the cutlery was gold. The
people of Renir seemed varied however. Some of the people shopping
had escorts or guards walking along with them. You could tell by
the way they held themselves. One that I had spotted in particular
was a large man with a long moustache curled with wax. He wore a
long velvet garment, like a dressing gown or house coat. This again
had gold trim the whole way round. His hat was like a night cap
that sat over to one side of his head. Made of the same red
material as his house coat. Under that he had a suit made of the
most beautiful material. Shining and glistening with jewels in the
failing sunlight. His hands were clad with rings, and his wrists
with golden bracelets. Around his neck was a large golden chain. It
hung over his shoulders and rested on his large belly. It was made
of five or so large coins, connected by a thinner chain. The coins
had images on them. Engraved into the silver and gold metal. I
could not see clearly the images but I recognised one of the
symbols from above a door of a warehouse just behind him. I thought
then, that he must have been someone important.

His two escorts stood shoulder to shoulder
with their backs turned to him as he was talking with the shop
keeper. They were facing the streets and watching every person
walking by, shoving anyone that got to close. I had never seen
anything like these men before. They stood tall. I mean I am six
foot and two inches and these guys towered over me. They must have
been about seven foot at least and built like wrestling body
builders. No superficial defined muscle, just pure mass and power.
They wore black trousers stained with light dirt and sawdust,
tucked into black, scuffed and worn boots. What looked like the
steel toe-capped ones. They wore similar shirts that barely
buttoned over their chests. The arms had been torn neatly from the
shirts. I didn’t know if it was for a practical reason or for
intimidation. Their arms were thicker than my abdomen, and that’s
saying something as I am a pretty big guy. My wife is an expert
baker, forgive me for volunteering for the tasting committee.

They had tattoos from head to fingers. Black
swirling designs, mostly symbolic tattoos I’m sure although the one
I could see clearly on the right had a tally on his inner forearm.
I did not want to find out what it was counting. I have not told
you the most disturbing thing however about these men. Everything
seemed human apart from the faces. They had noses that would be
better described as snouts. Like, proper pig snouts on their face
where the nose should be. The one on the left had his pierced in
the middle like a bull! Their eyes narrowed in and the snouts moved
while they sniffed or spoke. I could do nothing but stare as I
walked closer. So much so that I began to walk slower as I
approached. My staff was dragging on the ground behind me as I
walked. Tessa staying tight to my legs and growling softly. I was
both fascinated and terrified at the same time. Like waiting for
the jump scare in a movie. You try not to watch it but the moment
it appears on the screen your eyes were drawn to it. That’s what it
felt like looking at these pig men.

I almost came to a standstill in front of
them until my staff was caught in between two traders stall tables.
I tried to yank it out but it seemed wedged in. I looked up and saw
one of the pig men starting strait at me. I was frozen with fear as
his eyes narrowed. He must have seen me as some kind of threat
because he cracked his knuckles, shoulders and neck and began
walking towards me. I kept trying to pull the staff free, Tessa
stood in front of me, full of false courage, growling deeply and
loudly now and the mad approached through the street. I got down on
one knee and tried to jiggle my staff loose from where it was
wedged. As I looked up I noticed a small hooded figure jumping from
one rooftop to the other. A long green hooded cloak began to
quickly climb down the outer struts of the building opposite me.
The figure wore brown thin shoes, like climbing shoes covered in
dirt and chalk. It wore fingerless gloves and a mack over the face.
It was like a green bandanna with two holed cut in it for eyes. I
could not see and weapons but just a brown satchel like a messenger
bag hung down from under the cloak. Sliding with such finesse, like
one of those parkour or free running videos you have most likely
seen on You tube, It slid down until it was just above the shop
front.