Heirs of Vanity- The Complete First Trilogy Box Set

by R J Hanson

  He stepped awkwardly over to where the unfortunate dwarf had dropped Swift Blood. Roland retrieved his Shrou-Hayn and started for the remaining undead that attacked his house, his home.

  Eldryn had a choice to make. He knew that those defending the house needed help but so did Roland. He made his decision. Eldryn charged toward the undead dwarves and took two of them as he charged past. He proceeded on and took out three of the undead at the wall on his first charge. One was speared by the blessed lance that he carried and the other two were trampled underneath the magical horseshoes the dwarves had gifted Eldryn. The same horseshoes that allowed him the great speed he needed to cover the vast distance in such a short time.

  Now less than twenty undead attacked the house. Eldryn made another pass and the number was reduced to fourteen. As Eldryn passed beyond the house to turn he saw a large brown bear tearing through the undead with abandon. Eldryn heard a familiar voice call for a charge and Ungar led seventeen dwarves out of the walls into the fray of the undead. The hapless creatures were cut down with a reckoning zest. The last of the undead creatures fell to the ground as Roland reached the house.

  “Ungar,” Roland said. “I’m glad that…”

  Those few words were all he could manage before the broken bones, blood loss, and other injuries took their toll. On the very spot where he had sworn to love and protect Clairenese, Sir Roland fell to the ground among the bodies of friends and enemies.

  Chapter VII

  Coming Home for the First Time

  Roland awoke to find himself in a cot in his own bedroom. He looked around the room and saw five dwarves and Tindrakin also laid up in cots. He looked to the bed and saw Clairenese resting there peacefully. A young blonde boy and younger girl tended to the other wounded, checking on their bandages and taking water to the ones that were conscious. A blonde woman appearing in her late forties approached Roland with a bowl of something that smelled of beef and carrots. The scent made his stomach growl.

  “Sir Roland,” the blonde woman said. “Would you be able to take some stew. It would do you good to have something in your stomach.”

  “I believe I could stand to have something,” Roland said. “Do you have any buttered bread to go with it?”

  Aye, that we do,” the blonde woman replied. “I am Harriette, by the way. My family and I came here yesterday, before...”

  Roland saw pain in her eyes and control on her face. This was a strong woman. Not the kind of strong it takes to swing a six-foot steel blade. The kind of strong that it takes to spend years of hard work risked on the chance of rain and the possible ravaging of locusts. The kind of strong it takes to bury loved ones and work the land around their grave. He saw the same blonde hair and farmer’s will in what was obviously the woman’s son and daughter.

  “Consider yourselves welcome, Harriette,” Roland said. “I appreciate the help. I thank you.”

  Roland looked at the dressing and stitches to his injuries. Someone had done some fine needle work.

  “Is this your handy work?” Roland asked.

  “Yes,” Harriette said. “When your husband is a soldier, and you raise two boys, and a girl that wishes she was one, you learn to stitch pretty quick. Your friend, Sir Eldryn, wanted me to tell you that he and the dwarf, Ungar, went to Skult to see if they could be of use anywhere else on the front.”

  Roland didn’t miss the fact that the woman’s husband and at least one son were not here with her.

  “I should be with them,” Roland said speaking of Ungar and Eldryn, and perhaps thinking of the missing members of this woman’s family.

  Roland tried to sit up and pain charged through his side, shoulder, and leg like a stampede of horses with iron hooves.

  “I think you would be much better off resting where you are,” Harriette said. “Ungar, the dwarf fella, said himself he’d never seen someone get so close to death and still walk. You need your rest, sir.”

  Roland looked out the window and worry for these people flooded his heart. He saw a large brown bear lumbering in the yard and testing the air with its nose.

  “The boy says he’s friendly,” Harriette said. “Kullen, your stable hand, says the bear came to help.”

  “It hasn’t hurt anyone?” Roland asked.

  “None but those creatures,” Harriette said. “Still makes me a bit nervous though.”

  Roland ate three bowls of some of the best stew he’d ever had. He also ate half a loaf of buttered bread and drank half a gallon of milk. With his stomach satisfied, and with no other option available to him, Roland slept again.

  Roland awoke to the sound of Ungar and Eldryn talking. He noticed now that someone had moved him to the bed and that he shared the room with a bandaged Tindrakin, and two other dwarves. Roland saw that his injured knee had a proper splint on it now. He found a dwarven battle axe near the bed and used it for a cane. Roland managed to sit although his side and shoulder were still very stiff. He caught his breath and then hoisted himself up and out of the bed using the battle axe to steady himself. As he passed by, he saw that Tindrakin’s bandaged head was not due to a skull injury, but it was rather an eye patch. Roland winced at the thought of what might have happened to Tin.

  He continued to the door and went through it to the other room and found Sir Eldryn, Ungar, and another dwarf sitting at the table, talking.

  “Is Claire alright?” Roland asked as he lowered himself to a chair at the table.

  “She is well,” Eldryn said. “She is in the garden with Harriette.”

  “What’s the news?” Roland asked.

  “It went much better than we feared,” Eldryn said. “Some of Daeriv’s army made it across the river to harass a few out laying settlements but they were not in enough number to endanger Skult. Apparently, a large portion of their number was washed down stream, so Prince Ralston is gathering his forces for a full winter campaign against Daeriv. He wants to sweep him from the land before spring.”

  “The bear I saw?” Roland asked.

  “Kullen’s friend,” Eldryn said. “Kullen said he needed to eat more fish before winter so he sent him on his way.”

  “That boy is a marvel,” Roland said.

  “He is at that,” Eldryn said. “I sent Kodii on with the other scouts. Or, to be more accurate, I didn’t argue with him when he said he was going north to scout.”

  “Before I forget,” Roland said, “just exactly how did you get here so quick?”

  “Those dwarven horseshoes,” Eldryn said. “I’m sorry, I had to leave Road Pounder behind. He hasn’t been seen yet, but I had to leave him a good distance out so it will probably be a few weeks before we find him.”

  “Those horseshoes allowed you to get here that quick?” Roland asked.

  “Yep,” Ungar said with no small amount of pride in his voice. “We ain’t ones to give junk to our friends.”

  “That is a fact,” Roland said. “A fact indeed.”

  “Roland,” Ungar said, “this is Battarc. He is my second in command.”

  “I’m proud to have you here,” Roland said. “By the looks of things, very blessed to have you here. If I may ask, what are you dwarves doing here?”

  “We ain’t the sort to miss a good fight,” Battarc said.

  “Indeed, we are not,” Ungar said. “But we come this time in particular to deliver the King’s wedding gift to ya. We are to build you a proper home. It just turns out that we got lucky that you were scaring up a fight at just that particular moment.”

  “I’m getting ready to ride back in to Skult,” Eldryn said. “Anything specific you want me to tell the Prince?”

  “Just let him know that I’ll be at his side as soon as I can walk without a cane,” Roland said.

  “He plans to send a priest for you and the others,” Eldryn said. “The injured here were lucky enough to have a good nurse at hand. There were others on the front that were not so lucky. The local members of the churches have also been busy blessing the ground those creatures h
ave been buried in or burned on. We don’t want them coming back.”

  “Sounds good,” Roland said. “What happened to Tin?”

  “I was fighting at his side when it happened,” Ungar said. “One of the undead got its finger into the boy’s eye. We had to burn the hole to keep disease from setting in. He’s not the first soldier to lose an eye but it is never an easy thing to stomach.”

  “Well,” Eldryn said, rising, “I’d better get on the road. If I hear of anything about Road Pounder, I’ll let you know. The Prince’s men know to keep an eye out for him.”

  “Very well,” Roland said. “Keep in touch. I want to be a part of that winter campaign.”

  Eldryn got up and walked out the door. Shortly after he exited, Clairenese came in. Her face brightened considerably when she saw her husband. It hurt Roland to see the lines of strain that still sagged under her eyes.

  “Oh Roland,” Claire said. “I was so worried. What are you doing up?”

  “There’s too much to be done for me to be lying in bed all day,” Roland said.

  Ungar and Battarc excused themselves and went back outside to see to the work the other dwarves were doing to break down the wall and bury the dead.

  “I saw you fall, or thought I did,” Roland said. “How are you?”

  “I’m well, just needed some rest. It was…trying.”

  “You must take care of the woman I love,” Roland said. “I can’t lose you, Claire.”

  “You are one to talk, Mighty Sir Roland, Slayer of Shrou Demons, Tall Walker, and now River Rider!”

  “Claire, I must…”

  “Hush,” she said. “I understand. Just know that you, and your wellbeing, mean at least as much to me.”

  Claire hated to think what her life might become without him. So many fears and doubts. She had more in her life now than she ever dreamed she would. She had been richly blessed, and was so afraid to lose any of it.

  “Roland, we need to talk about Harriette and her son and daughter,” Lady Clairenese said, forcing her thoughts away from such gloom.

  “Go on, dear,” Roland said.

  “Her husband is dead,” Claire said. “They are working one hundred twenty acres on the other side of the river and have only a short time left before forty of it is deeded to them. Roland, I’d like to help them somehow.”

  “It seems like she has been a big help around here,” Roland said.

  “She has been invaluable,” Claire confirmed. “She is a strong woman, but she can’t work that much land and take care of two children.”

  “You’re going to be needing help with our child before too long,” Roland said.

  “That is what I’m getting at,” Claire said.

  “Alright,” Roland said. “I’ll speak with her.”

  Roland managed to pull himself up from the table and put a hand on the battle axe, again using it as a cane. He made his way out the front door and around the side of the log home to the garden where Harriette collected a few pumpkins that were ripening.

  “Hello, Sir Roland,” Harriette said when she noticed him ambling toward her. “You shouldn’t be up and around so soon. You need to let those wounds heal up. You’ll tear them back open if you’re not careful.”

  “They were well stitched,” Roland said. “I think they’ll be fine. Harriette, I know that it’s soon and I know that your loss has been a bad one.”

  Harriette’s jaw muscles tightened and tears welled in her eyes. She looked toward the north and across the river. So many dreams had been lost in that dust.

  “Garth was a good man,” Harriette said. “He was a soldier you know. He never cared much for farming but soldierin’ isn’t easy on a family.”

  “He sounds like he was a brave man and a good soldier,” Roland said. “We need men like him here. I know what’s to come is going to be tough for you. I wish I could bring your man back but I cannot. I would like to make things better for you and the family of such a man. It is my understanding that you have two more years to fulfill working your lands and then you will be deeded forty acres. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any plans as to what you are going to do from here?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it,” Harriette said. “Everything has changed so suddenly.”

  “I would imagine that owning your own land would mean something very special to you,” Roland said. “It would be hard to farm one hundred twenty acres with only two children to help you. I’d like for you to sell me your forty acres and I’ll see that the land is worked for the next two years. In the meantime, you go to work for me helping Clairenese around the house. We have a child coming soon and I may not be here to help her. I will pay you three hundred gold coins for your land and I will pay you and your children one gold coin a month that you work for me. I will also provide room and board. Your land will be for sell to you at any time that you wish to buy it back.”

  “My lord, that is too generous,” Harriette said. “Forty acres isn’t worth half that much and a gold coin a month for laborers and servants? Skilled craftsmen and experienced soldiers don’t make a gold a month.”

  “Never-the-less, that is my offer,” Roland said. “You can think about it if you wish. While you are here, Claire can teach Whit and Clowie to read and write as she teaches our son.”

  “My children could learn to read?” Harriette asked as she failed her battle with the tears building in her eyes.

  “I don’t see why not,” Roland said. “What do you say?”

  “Sir Roland, I accept, and I thank you,” Harriette said. “You are a kind man.”

  “Don’t start thinking that things here will be easy,” Roland said. “After all you are going to be cooking for nearly twenty dwarves, not to mention what Eldryn and I will eat. No ma’am, it won’t be easy at all.”

  “I must tell the children,” Harriette said.

  “Please do,” Roland said as he turned back toward the house. “Once you find Whit ask him to come see me. I think there are some things I should talk to him about.”

  Whit would need some words of comfort; some means of handling what’s befallen him and his family. Not the sort of guidance a woman could offer. He would need to hear the kind of guidance Velryk had given Eldryn over the years.

  With these thoughts on his mind, Roland made his way back toward the house in his very slow three-legged manner. He stopped as he noticed a few dwarves hauling weapons and armor taken off of the undead soldiers into the barn. Roland walked very stiff legged to the barn and discovered that some of the dwarves had made a secure tack room out of the logs that had previously been a defensive wall, and a dam prior to that. He saw that the dwarves were piling the collected equipment up next to the tack room.

  “What do you have there?” Roland asked.

  “The beginnings of quite an armory,” a red bearded dwarf replied. “We’ve collected more than seventy suits of armor, not complete you understand, forty-eight broad swords, thirty-five hand axes, thirty-two shields, seventeen bastard swords, and more daggers than we care to count. For the most part, they are iron but there is steel among them. A few of them of decent craft, considering they’re not of dwarven making. Some of them bear the marks and crest of families and Houses that’ve been gone from the world for half a century or more.”

  Roland entered the ‘armory’ and found Ungar and Battarc there, taking a detailed inventory. His eye caught the white rose with a center ruby, the ruby in this case only fading red paint, on an iron breastplate among them. His family’s crest. This piece of armor had been issued to a soldier that served the Kingdom of Ozur. A Kingdom that had fallen.

  “I figured you two would be delegating this type of duty to one of your younger companions,” Roland said, finally managing to take his eye from the symbol of his bloodline.

  “Pass up the chance to examine so many different types of armor and weapons?” Ungar asked. “I don’t guess you would know much about evaluatin’ loot but
it requires great skill.”

  Roland could see the truth of it. It appeared the fact of the matter was that dwarves enjoyed all sorts of weapons and armor and enjoyed handling them and ‘evaluatin’’ them. Roland was just now beginning to realize the scope of work the dwarves had already done.

  “Well then let me borrow upon your skills,” Roland said. “The boys, Whit and Kullen. They are going to need proper armor and weapons. I don’t know what, if anything, they have been trained to use. Therefore, I will leave it up to you to help them select the type of weapon they should train with. Help them find what suits them.”

  The two dwarves looked at each other and, for a moment, Roland caught the gleam in their eyes. This brief look of elation was concealed quickly with furrowed brow and lips raised in a minor sneer.

  “We are quite busy,” Battarc grumbled. “But for you, Tall Walker, we’ll do it.”

  “I thank you,” Roland said, trying to conceal his smile. “I’ll send Whit along shortly.”

  Roland walked out of the new ‘armory’ and labored across the yard toward the house. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He could tell that he was pushing himself, standing and walking as long as he had this morning. After what seemed like a very long time Roland finally arrived at the house and made it back to his bed. He stretched himself out and eased pressure off of his injured knee and then took a long drink from a wine bottle setting next to the bed.

  It wasn’t long before Whit came into the room.

  “We haven’t actually met yet,” Roland said. “I am Roland, from the lands of Galhallad.”

  “I am Whitston, from Lawrec,” Whit replied in his best adult’s voice.