“You spied on my father, told the Jarl our plans and claim to be our ally?”
“He is my Jarl,” Dorgramu replied. “Perhaps it was even fortunate that he did learn of your plan through me. This allowed me to counsel him. Had he reacted without anticipation, without my counsel, he might have ordered your deaths. Then there would have been bloodshed all throughout Wolf Rein, a civil war among brethren. That is something I hope I do not see in my lifetime.”
“And now? Why should you want to see me succeed in my oath and not send me into some trap, to die with a dozen swords in my back?”
“Because I love Wolf Rein as much as you do. I wish… to see you succeed in your oath as I see no other who can take the Jarl’s place. There are many from other Jarls who seek Bardawulf’s seat, to place a son on the seat. There are a few rich men from Wolf Rein who vie for it as well. But they cannot protect Wolf Rein like you can, they are not as loyal to Wolf Rein as you are. This threat that we face now is uncanny, and we need truly strong men in power. This Orc Warlord goes by Ghazrak Thousand Fangs, and he has stirred such a frenzy among the Orcs that an entire Jarldom has fallen, something that has not been seen since the war of the Cold Crown. Thousand Fangs is chasing what remains of the united Skaldean forces across Ironrise. There is no telling when or where he will strike next once that force can no longer hold him.”
“Father, do you really trust this wizard who has spied on you for the Jarl?”
“He was only carrying out his duty. I would have done the same.”
The coldness of my father’s mind appalled me yet impressed me in the same turn. “Tell me then, Dorgramu, tell me, Father, how can I slay this Orc warlord when he has thousands around him and I have no army of my own?”
“Even Orcs sleep,” Dorgramu said.
“You would have me assassinate the Orc warlord like a coward?”
“You would not have to do it yourself. One Eye here will accompany you,” my father said and One Eye nodded slightly. “He saw you safely out of Kenessos, I trust him to see you safely out of this. He knows much of the terrain in Ironrise, and is adept as a spy, and assassin.”
“That is not what I swore! I swore before my people that I would slay the Orc warlord myself, not have an assassin do it under the cover of night!”
“You can still slay him,” One Eye said. “You can take his head. I will merely weaken him for you. There are many poisons that can incapacitate foes, blind them, muddle them.”
“But Lord Gustaff,” Quistainn said, “the conditions of the Boast were that Rothan receive no aid from men of Wolf Rein.”
“To hell with the Boast,” my father said.
“No, the young cleric is right to be honorable,” One Eye said with a smile, “however, where you’re wrong young cleric is that I am no man of Wolf Rein.”
“You’re not?” I asked. I had always assumed as much.
“No, I was not born a Wolf Reiner, and am not sworn in service or loyalty to the Jarl. I serve Hammer Gustaff, but only by choice—and some coin thrown in for good measure—not by oath or birth. So you see, young cleric, you don’t have to fear losing your virtue. Though I would suggest doing so sometime, in a more enjoyable way.”
“How can I win the Jarl’s seat this way?” I shook my head in disgust. “How can I ever call myself a warrior, much less a Jarl if I do this? Poison is a woman’s weapon! And I would have other men all but kill my foe, only for me to lay claim to the glory?”
“Rothan,” my father said, “do you really think that all the Jarls and Kings of the world ride into battle, in their vanguard, gloriously slaying their enemies? They have armies do their fighting. Even when they lead them, they are protected by a vast troop of guards. You will be acting just as a Jarl or king would.”
“And I will become just as weak and treacherous as them.”
“Think on it this way,” Dorgramu said, “seeking to fight the warlord in an honorable way will only endanger your companions: Quistainn and the young lady who volunteered to follow you. Is it not your duty as a leader to attain your goal with as little risk to them as possible?”
I sighed, and clenched my jaw with resignation. “It is.”
“Will you take One Eye with you as a companion then?”
My eyes roamed the ground as if some other solution would present itself. None did. Dorgramu spoke true. My duty was to keep those under me safe. “Very well, One Eye, we will journey together once more.”
“Do not worry yourself,” One Eye said, “it is a long way from here to Ironrise. I’m sure I will need your prowess in open battle as much as you will need my skills as an assassin.”
“It is settled then,” my father said.
“Yes,” the wizard replied. “I will begin preparing some items I believe will be useful to you on your journey.”
“I want to thank you,” my father said, turning to face Dorgramu, “...I did not trust you for many years. This was my error. I thought you were the Jarl’s man.”
“You were right not to trust me. I did spy on you after all—though out of duty and a hope to quell rising tensions within the city. And I am the Jarl’s man. I am loyal to him foremost. I counsel with you now out of my loyalty to him, to the man he once was. That man who still dwells inside him, however deep. And so, I see no wrong that Rothan should fulfill his oath, marry Siv and one day become Jarl. The man Bardawulf once was would have approved.”
“But does she approve?” The thought that had been weighing on me sprung from my mouth. “When I spoke of marriage in the great hall, Siv did not seem happy.”
“Did she seem angry? Sad?” my father asked.
“She seemed… as if the thought of marriage were only another burden to bear.”
“What is marriage, if not a burden?” my father said. “Life is duty, sacrifice. You do yours. She will do hers.”
“Dorgramu, you know her better than either of us. Will Siv... will she be happy with this?”
The wizard was silent, as if my question was some deep philosophical quandary.
“Rothan,” my father said, almost churlish, “this is the way of noble maidens. Marriages are to strengthen noble families, to strengthen Jarldoms and Kingdoms. And we know you will treat her well, better than any man, I should say, or we wouldn’t have agreed to this.”
“You are tall and strong, valiant and just. Many a noble lady would give anything to be given to a man as you. And in any case, personal desires must be set aside for the greater good, especially by those of the ruling class,” Dorgramu said, coming out of his contemplation. “As to the question of your station, your family is not as rich or powerful as some in Skald, but you are also not commoners. Your father is Hammer of Wolf Rein, Rothan! And you are his son—do not forget that. You have proved your valor in battle, and now you prove that the blood of the first kings runs in your blood—remember that the line of Jarl Bardawulf began ruling in Wolf Rein only four centuries ago—before that it was the sons of Maghadrad, through his son Kelhadrad that ruled here.”
I breathed deep. “So many questions. So much ancient lore, with me somehow wrapped up in it, makes my head hurt.”
Dorgramu raised an eyebrow and turned to my father. “These are truly our sons.”
“Who would have thought,” my father answered. “I regret not trusting you sooner, Dorgramu the Binder.” He held out a hand, and the wizard gripped his forearm. My father looked down and was almost surprised at Dorgramu’s handshake.
“I am still a man of Wolf Rein,” Dorgramu chuckled.
Quistainn turned to me, took off his gauntlet, and held his hand out. I gripped it by the forearm and he gripped mine, in Wolf Rein fashion. It was strange, to stand under the skylight, two pairs of fathers and sons, surrounded by darkness.
Sunlight washed over us as we emerged from the twilight of Dorgramu’s house. Dorgramu had given me a pack filled with all manner of potions, amulets, supplies, weapons.
“Halt!” a ram-horned guard shouted, surrounded by tw
o dozen of the Jarl’s loyal soldiers. They were at the base of the stairs that led up to Dorgramu’s house entrance. The daylight scintillated on their armor, and wind caught some of the horsehair on their helms. Behind them stood the glimmering figure of Aesor Twin Blades. His white armor was nearly blinding. He was stone silent, but his gaze, even through his helm, was piercing.
“What is this?” I yelled down to them.
“We act on orders of the Jarl.” The ram-helmed guard seemed ashamed, but resolved. “Court Wizard Dorgramu, you are to be placed under house arrest until Jarl Bardawulf can determine your fate. Karlstaff One Eye and Gustaff Hammer of Wolf Rein, you are to come with us... as prisoners.”
“I have something better that you can take…” I reached for a sword at my hip.
“My sword down your throat!”
“Rothan, don’t!” my father shouted, grabbing ahold of my arm. “They have only come for us. They are following orders. They are only being soldiers.”
“No, I draw the line here!” I drew my blade. Metal rang as the soldiers drew theirs. “The Jarl can have my sword too, I have enough for all the rats in this city!”
“This is folly,” Dorgramu said, “Listen to your father, these soldiers are only following their orders, which is their duty to do so. Do not bring about the bloodshed I have long feared. If you are to be Jarl one day, what will people say, that you slew these dutiful men along with a Jarl who could barely lift his own hands from disease? Is that what you want for your family and your people? Is that what the brave warrior Rothan will do?”
“Hellsl!” I roared out, and threw my sword on the ground.
I grit my teeth as I watched my father plod down the steps, lean his hands out be put in chains. One Eye followed suit, but as he passed me I felt his hand graze mine. When I glanced down I saw there was a small black vial in my palm.
“I have just given you the Orc warlord’s death,” he quickly whispered. “Use it carefully.”
“But you are to come with me.”
“You wanted to win the glory yourself. Perhaps the gods agreed.”
One eye then joined my father, and was taken in chains.
13
My footsteps echoed in the castle halls, as I hurried and kept my face under my cloak.
To hell with Dorgramu’s counsel. I had avoided townsfolk as best I could and needed to make haste. I walked under the castle gates and two guards immediately spotted me. “You! You’re not allowed to just wander in here.”
I leered straight into his eyes. “Do I look like I’m wandering?” He only stared back in silence, his hands going white with how tightly he gripped his spear. “I need to speak with the Jarl, about my father and One Eye being taken prisoner. About Dorgramu being placed under house arrest.”
“That is the Jarl’s business, not yours.”
“That is my father and a man I owe my life to…” I stepped closer to him and began feeling fangs push out from my mouth. I restrained the beast just enough that I did not fully transform. Still, it would have taken a true fool not to sense what was lurking just behind my human eyes. “What do you think I’m capable of, soldier, to see to their safety?”
The poor guard trembled. I grabbed him by his breastplate as I would a child and flung him into his fellow guard. “Ughff!” one wheezed out as they clashed together, hard as if they had been kicked by a mule.
One writhed on the ground while the other staggered to his knees. “Stay down if you know what’s good for you.” I began walking away. “And don’t worry, I’ll say you fought bravely.”
I made my way through three stone corridors until I reached the Jarl’s hall. I burst in flinging the massive wood doors open. “Jarl Bardawulf! How dare you do this!” I roared at him. He was sitting in his stone chair, surrounded by guards, my father and One Eye before him.
The guards motioned toward me. “Rothan! I told you to leave us be!” my father scolded me.
“Come, guardsmen, come and taste my steel if you’d like!” I pointed my sword at them. The Jarl’s chief guard, Twin Blades, was at the head of their moving column, and he motioned for the rest to halt.
“Aesor Twin Blades,” I said walking toward the tall warrior. “Back at Dorgramu’s you did not draw your swords like the rest. You best draw them now! I don’t want them to say I cut down a helpless man. I kept walking toward him, but he was unmoving. “I wonder if you’ll finally speak when I put steel through your heart.” My arm tensed as it readied to thrust, but at the last moment Aesor drew his twin swords. It was like he had released the sun into the room, and I reeled back, putting my sword between me and him. His two swords shone with magic. One burned a deep blue, while the other an angelic white. I had not expected this. Still, I would rip him apart if necessary. I tried to take the measure of the man, but could not even see his eyes through the slits in his wolf shaped helmet. His white armor reflected his two swords’ light, and he stood there with them crossed before him. His stoic, unflinching air only angered me more.
“You wear a wolf helm...” I growled, “...but I’m the real thing!”
I let the beast out. My body swelled with the primal strength of a god, and grey fur burst out from every pore.
Aesor Twin Blades took a readied stance, swirled one of his blades around himself. Runes began forming around him, as if they were being written by an invisible hand, with ink made of fiery magic.
“Rothan!” my father thundered. “Stop this or I’ll take your head myself!”
“He’s right, this is madness, Rothan!” One Eye yelled.
My shoulders rose and fell at my agitated breathing. Aesor was still as stone, facing me with unwavering resolve. His blades and runes glowed with magic power—I had only seen these kind of arcane weapons a handful of times in my life. I wondered, who would emerge victorious. The beast hungered to prove itself in battle, to taste blood and death and flesh once more.
Movement. Out of the corner of my eye. It was Siv, her large eyes growing even larger as she spotted the commotion. She held back a scream, covering her mouth.
“Is this what you would have your future wife see?” the Jarl coughed out. “You as a wild beast butchering your own people, butchering soldiers doing their duty? Or would you butcher her as well?”
My eyes flickered back and forth, between the armored warrior and Siv, my father and the Jarl.
“Go, Lady Siv, please,” my father said, “go before my son shames our family anymore.”
Siv seemed to come to her senses and lef the hall with a flutter of her long blue dress.
The sight of her, my father’s words, the crowd staring at me, all brought my human side back to me. The stalemate lingered but began losing its urgency.
“Enough,” my father said.
My arms relaxed beside me. My fangs and fur receded.
“Twin Blades,” the Jarl said, “no need to slay my… would be son in law. The Orcs will take care of that.”
The knight sheathed his two blades, and his glowing, circling runes dissipated.
“You know, Rothan the Fenrir,” Jarl Bardawulf went on, “You show much loyalty to your father, but it is he that seeks your death by influencing you to move against me. Where your loyalty should lie should be with the common people of Wolf Rein. Cobblers, farmers, tanners, fishermen, these are the people who just saved your life. Were it not for their love of you, I would command Twin Blades to slice both your arms off for drawing a sword in my hall. Now, should we continue with our legal proceedings or are you going to bark some more?”
“Legal? That’s what you call this?” I yelled, unafraid of his threats. “One Eye and my father have done nothing but serve you and the Jarldom. You cannot simply arrest them at your whim!”
“Oh, he tells me what I can and cannot do now? Heh. I rule by authority of King Albrecht, who in turn rules under the authority of the Empire. Therefore, I can arrest any men of my Jarldom if I find them suspect of treason, or if they have openly committed crimes against the Emp
ire.”
“What do you speak of? At least all Skaldeans have the right to know what they are accused of.”
“If you must know, Gustaff Hammer of Wolf Rein is accused of conspiracy against his Jarl. He is accused of treason.”
“In what form did he commit treason? Because he counseled me on my oath and to ask for Siv’s hand? That is treason? Then our customs since ancient times are treason!”
“Oh, so you admit it was Gustaff who counseled you such? Well, perhaps you will save him a great deal of trouble and tell me everything.”
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