by R J Hanson
“We’ll take a day to think on this,” Prince Ralston said, standing. “It will do the men and the mounts good to rest for a day. Speak with your own advisors, pray to your gods, and spend some time in thought. We’ll meet here again tomorrow night.”
With that the Prince stood and walked from his tent. Sir Brutis stepped between Sanderland and Roland subtly disguising his intervention as a dire need to speak further with Roland. Sanderland shot Ungar a dangerous look and Ungar responded by digging a finger up his nose to do some fishing.
Lady Angelese burst forth in a giggle at that, rose, and began to walk from the fire. Sanderland turned a deeper shade of red and turned to follow her.
Roland rose to speak with Sir Brutis as Eldryn, Tindrakin, and Isaak also moved over to them. Sir Fynyll, taken by surprise as the abrupt end of the meeting, stood up a bit confused and then made his way back toward his own set of tents.
“How do you feel?” Sir Brutis asked Roland with genuine concern on his face. “You took a bad blow.”
“Just a good clout to the head,” Roland said raising a hand to his left eye. “I get hit in the head a lot.”
“Perhaps not often enough,” Eldryn said. “You should have told me about the spear wound. You could have died you…you…ox.”
“What spear wound?”
“You were punctured from behind,” Brutis said. “Brother Othlynn found the spear not far from where he found you and Ungar. It went into your back, my guess is just beneath the breastplate, and at an angle. Went through your liver and protruded out the front. You lost a lot of blood too. Brother Othlynn said you were near dead when he found you and he wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
“You should have told me,” Eldryn said with an edge in his voice. “Did you think I couldn’t jump the river? Did you think I couldn’t swim it if I had to?”
“I didn’t know, El’,” Roland said. “I thought it was just the knock to the head and my shoulder.”
Eldryn stared hard at Roland for a moment and then turned and left abruptly.
“He thought you would die,” Tindrakin said as Eldryn was moving out of eaves dropping range. “I haven’t seen him like that before. He really thought you were going to die.”
“Kodii?” Roland asked.
“Fine,” Ungar said. “Back to the woods he’s been. Good scout that dark one is. I be fine too since everyone’s so teared up over it. Couple o’ busted ribs is all…well, and the arm. Did ya’ see me hit that ogre though! That was somethin’!”
“Get some rest,” Brutis said. “You’ll be needing your strength, and soon.”
With that they each moved to their own bedrolls. Roland took up a waterskin and drained it. He began to wonder if his thirst would ever be satisfied again. Roland stretched out on his bedroll and pulled the heavy blanket over him. Many thoughts competed for his attention. When he thought of Claire a smile came to his lips and sleep came for the rest of him.
“That is what I believe to be our best course of action,” Prince Ralston said over the fire at his counsel the following snow framed night. “However, due to the nature of the move I now ask your counsel. Nor will I take any man along that does not volunteer on his own.”
“My lord, I understand your eagerness,” Sir Fynyll said. “However, you risk the loss of all of Lawrec if we should meet defeat.”
Roland noticed for the first time that Fynyll had apparently found a replacement for the hunting bird that he lost in Shrou Canyon. This one was a hawk as well; with darker plumage than the last.
Ungar ground his teeth together. Roland had asked him to keep his opinions to himself, however, that was turning out to be more difficult than he had anticipated.
“I and my men are with you, my lord,” Roland said. “We will march toward the castle of The Bringer of Ends if you wish it and call the UnMaker to the Temple of Bones.”
That statement by Roland allowed Ungar to rest a bit easier.
“It is a bold move,” Sir Brutis said. “We will certainly know his strength. If Daeriv has any power left it will be brought to bear to prevent us from reaching his home. And, if he does still have a force to reckon with, the head of that snake will be at his main fortress for the winter. We could make a decisive attack.”
“We know that he still has forces here,” Sir Fynyll said. “We encountered several patrols.”
“Roving bands of ogres, giants, and lost men that are no more a military than a batch of squawking chickens,” Sir Brutis said. “Those fools are not his military. They are just fodder. Convenient delays. We waste our time with them.”
“So we drive north with foolhardy abandon?” Sir Sanderland asked.
Eldryn’s face flushed red and a vein, one that Roland knew well, forced its outline down Eldryn’s forehead. Eldryn became angry every time he was reminded that Sanderland drew breath.
“We drive north across lands that should be ours already,” Lady Angelese countered. “We drive north and show them that we are not going to cower in our homes while he brings the war to us. We will take the war to him!”
“My lord, you know we will follow your command,” General Maditt said. “However here you ask for our advice. My advice is to go after the head of the snake, as Sir Brutis put it. If we can take Daeriv and some of his top men then we will have broken the back of our opponent. I’m sure that we will spend years clearing the land of his remaining army but they will no longer have a leader and organizer. I think we should drive him out, take his fortress by force, and make it our own.”
“It is decided then,” Prince Ralston said. “Knights and Paladins, I command none of you to come along on this mission. Each of you has your own soldiers, homes, and families to think of. You Paladins have the will of the church to consider. I ask you now to volunteer for this campaign.”
Roland and Eldryn were the first two to stand. Ungar and Tindrakin stood next to them.
“We are with you, my lord,” they said in unison.
Sir Brutis stood next, followed by Lady Angelese and Brother Othlynn. General Maditt was not asked to volunteer, in fact he was commanded to. However, he wanted to show his confidence in his lord by standing as well.
Prince Ralston was still a young man. In fact, he was less than half General Maditt’s age. However, General Maditt had come to respect the young leader and now was proud to serve him. General Maditt stood beside the others.
Sir Sanderland rose, reluctantly, and stood next to Lady Angelese. Two of the paladins decided to return to the churches in the south since none of them would be protected.
Sir Fynyll thought of his career and reputation. He thought about the excuses he had prepared. He caught himself unintentionally staring toward his horse longingly.
“Sir Fynyll,” Prince Ralston said. “I will need men in the south as well. I release you from this quest without any shame and with your honor fully intact. I would only ask that you do what you can to protect the homes and families of others that continue on.”
“Yes, my lord,” Sir Fynyll said. “I would be happy to lead whatever contingent back that you select. I will take charge of our defenses.”
Four more knights remained seated with Sir Fynyll and the two paladins. General Maditt assigned fifty men, most of whom had minor injuries or illnesses from the months of travel already endured, along with the six noted warriors to travel south as well. Fifty-seven men rode out of camp that night bound for the lands to the south; bound for Skult.
Prince Ralston and his volunteers rode another three weeks through heavy snows and winds that seemed sharp enough to sever Rorkor. Sir Brutis had taught both Roland and Eldryn a few maneuvers that were new to them with both the sword and the axe. Sir Roland and Sir Eldryn learned well and after the months of sparing, had come to a point where their skills almost matched those of Sir Brutis himself, or so they thought.
A thought occurred to Sir Fynyll. Sir Roland was here, with his home defenseless. It was, after all, his duty to check on the homes of the knights
and paladins that would remain on task. Perhaps he would pay a visit to the lovely bride of Sir Roland’s. Perhaps he would determine for himself whether or not she was a traitor and loyal to the Marshes instead the lands of Lawrec. Prince Ralston had made his decision about her clear. However, what a hero he would be if he exposed such a powerful traitor to the land that was so close to Skult. A hero he would be, and Roland would be powerless to do anything about it. By the time he returned from this absurd quest, if he returned at all, it would be too late. Lady Clairenese would be branded a traitor, held responsible for the murder of so many families at the hands of the undead army. She would be tried and burned long before Roland knew anything of it. Sir Fynyll rode through the snow with a smile on his face.
Chapter XI
Virtues of Violence
The days passed and Roland’s strength returned.
“You are both progressing well,” Sir Brutis said one day after sparing. “Your fathers would be proud. However, Engiyadu is a master. Do not forget that. Even as a man and teacher in my academy he was unrivaled with the blade. I am sure that he is much more deadly now. Do not face him alone if you can avoid it. There is a difference between bravery and suicide.”
“Indeed, there is,” Eldryn said as he stared at Roland.
“El’, I don’t see…” Roland began.
“No, you don’t,” Eldryn said, cutting him short and throwing his sword to the ground. “You don’t see that I would have been the one to tell Lady Claire of your death. I would be the one to raise your son, whose father was too stupid to realize how much his family, his son, needs him. I would be the Velryk to your Ellidik!”
There it was; so plain now that even Roland could see. The moment Eldryn learned of Claire’s pregnancy he had been haunted by this threat. He had been haunted by the possibility, now more real to him than ever before, that Roland could die and leave him in this world alone. He had been haunted by his anger at a father that did not return to him.
Sir Brutis, recognizing this unresolved trouble for what it was, backed away from the two friends. They must sort this out before facing the evils that awaited them in the north. Ungar and Tindrakin moved closer; preparing to intervene. However, with a raised hand from Brutis, they both held their ground and waited to see how this would end.
Roland sheathed Swift Blood in the scabbard on his back and looked off to the horizon. He had always counted on Eldryn; always relied on him without thought or hesitation. He had taken him for granted, and knew it.
“Do you see something out there? Did you find something to chase; something to fight?” Eldryn asked, voice raised, as he mockingly looked off to the distance in the same direction. “You have your father! You have your family! You think you can just get yourself killed and leave all of the worrying to me! Why would you leave your son?!”
Eldryn drew back his fist as Roland turned to face him. It was hard for Roland to look at him; to realize what he had done. Then stars exploded across his field of vision.
Roland sat up slowly. The left side of his face felt like hot clay and was stiff and swelling quickly. He had forgotten how strong Eldryn truly was. As he looked around, he realized that his left eye had swollen shut and some blacksmith was pounding out horseshoes in his skull.
“Boy can throw a punch,” Ungar said. “Gotta give ‘em that.”
Ungar and Tin walked to Roland and helped him to his feet. Roland swayed for a moment under the load of heavy pain in his head.
“Sir Brutis followed him,” Tindrakin said. “He said he would talk to him.”
“Tin, I didn’t mean to cause any of this,” Roland said.
Ungar scooped up a handful of snow, packed it, shaped it, and offered it to Roland. He took it and pressed it against the angry flesh of his face.
“He knows that,” Tin said. “He was just real worried about you.”
“It’s more than that, boy,” Ungar said. “He’s got his own pains to figure out.”
Roland didn’t see Eldryn again until the following day. The time for their sparing with Sir Brutis came around, but only Brutis was there when Roland, Tindrakin, and Ungar arrived.
“Sir Eldryn will be along shortly,” Brutis said. “How’s the face.”
“Can’t call ‘im Iron Eye,” Ungar cut in. “That one’s taken by this un here,” he said jerking his thumb at Tindrakin. “Mellon Eye, maybe.”
That brought a bit of a laugh from those gathered.
“It’ll be fine,” Roland said. “I’ve had worse. How is El’?”
“We talked,” Brutis said. “He’ll be fine. He just has to get his head right.”
As they talked, Eldryn rode up on Lance Chaser. From the look of the horse, he had already been exercised well that morning. Eldryn winced when he saw Roland’s face. He dismounted, leaving Lance Chaser ground hitched, and walked over to the group.
“Good ride this morning?” Roland asked, a bit clumsily.
“Yes,” Eldryn said.
Then quiet settled over the gathered warriors for several moments.
“Well, shake hands,” Ungar said, showing clear impatience. “Tall Walker, we all agree that you’re mule headed, even for a man.” Roland nodded. “Stone Rider, he’s mule headed, but he’s your brother. He loves ya’ and ya’ knows it. So, both of you pull your heads out from where you squat!”
Eldryn extended his hand and Roland took it.
“Eldryn, I…” Roland began.
“Now why would you talk!” Ungar interjected. “You usually make it worse. Just shut up and you two go back to being brothers.”
Roland nodded and he and Eldryn both smiled.
“Right then,” Brutis said. “Let’s get to it.”
Sparing began and in no time, they fell into their routines. Now, with five together to spare, they fought three on two instead of two on one. As before, any time one of them was struck they changed sides. Roland learned a few things from Tindrakin, being newly blind on one side. They were all well practiced at pushing all other thoughts from their minds when taking sword in hand. Ungar even had a trick or two to show them, although Eldryn was loath to put some of Brutis’s, and all of Ungar’s, tricks into action against a foe. The old Code, the Code of the Cavalier, was his father’s Code. It was his Code. Pride was not a pitfall for Eldryn, but he did take pride in upholding his father’s ideas. The Code, the idea of Ellidik in his mind, was the seed. In the years since leaving home the Code had taken root in him and bloomed. It had become his own and Eldryn had moved out of his father’s shadow.
Little had been seen of Kodii or Brother Othlynn, although word of them came to Roland from time to time by way of the forward scouts.
At Prince Ralston’s request, Eldryn had begun working with the cavalry they had. They were a small group and, therefore, must work together well. It came as a surprise to Eldryn that he knew more about mounted combat than any of the others in this group. Their days were divided between learning different riding styles in the field and studying maneuvers over lines drawn in the dirt.
One morning, after breakfast, Roland walked out to watch Eldryn with the rest of the cavalry. He had a bit of smoking leaf remaining, borrowed from Ungar of course, and poked it into his cheek. He noticed Lady Angelese walking her horse nearby and noticed something else. She was watching the maneuvers of the cavalry with much interest. It was one of the few times Sanderland wasn’t around hovering over her so Roland approached.
“Good morning, Lady Angelese,” Roland said as he quickened his step to catch up to her.
Lady Angelese jumped and turned to look at Roland. Roland was not very observant, but he was the son of a Reeve. He had seen the same look on many a child’s face when caught dipping into the candy jar in a store.
“Good…good morning, Sir Roland,” she said, a bit shaken.
“Sorry to sneak up on you like that,” Roland said. “And please, let me just be Roland to you, Lady.”
“Very well,” she said. “And I Angie to you.”
<
br /> Roland took three more quick steps and fell into a walk next to her.
“He is very fond of you, you know,” Roland said.
“Who?” Angie asked, attempting and failing to fain ignorance.
“Sir Eldryn there,” Roland said. “He is the son of Ellidik the One Eye. Ellidik that rode with the Sheld Fleet.”
I have heard,” Angie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and tucking it behind her ear. “I know who he is.”
“He’s a good man,” Roland continued. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, he’s a better man than your betrothed.”
“Sir Sanderland is the choice of my church,” Lady Angelese said. “He is a powerful paladin and our marriage will strengthen both of our churches.”
“Perhaps, but…”
“You speak to me of whom to marry when you are married to that…,” she paused then.
Roland saw genuine anger in Lady Angelese’s face, and it surprised him.
“Your choice of spouse could also be questioned,” she finally finished. “Let us not talk of this further.”
“I do apologize if I’ve upset you, Lady Angelese,” Roland said as he looked off to the dreary horizon. “It was not my intention. I was only…”
“Offering advise where it was not asked for,” she finished for him. “Sir Eldryn is a good man. Let us leave it at that.”
“Certainly,” Roland acquiesced. “I am not skilled in the manners of court, as you may have noticed, but I would like to ask you an indelicate question. I mean no offense by it but am genuinely curious.”
“I am no fading flower, S… Roland,” she said.
“Of that I am aware, Angie,” Roland said in kind. “Your bravery and skill were well marked at Shrou Canyon.”
“As were yours at Roland’s Duel,” she answered with a smile. “Your question?”
“I have seen a number of needs of the people in the short time I have traveled,” Roland began but didn’t seem to know how to finish.