The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

by Paul Lauritsen

  The man hesitated, then dropped his cudgel and knelt on the forest floor, hands over his head.

  Relam grunted in satisfaction and started forward, Oreius closing in from the other side. The old warrior reached the bandit first and grabbed the studded cudgel, slinging it into the woods where it was well out of reach.

  “That’s more like it,” he muttered. “Keep your hands where I can see them, scum.”

  The bandit wisely complied without a word. Relam passed Oreius a length of rope, but stayed in the saddle and kept his sword ready, just in case.

  Oreius tied the man’s hands in front of him, jerking on the rope a few times to make it extra tight. The bandit whimpered with pain but did not resist. Finally the old man grabbed the bandit by the shoulder and heaved him up and over his saddle so that he was laying across it, face down.

  “Let’s deliver this one to the others,” Relam said, glancing back the way they had come. Fortunately, there was a fairly obvious trail of trampled vegetation to follow. And he could hear soldiers cheering in the distance.

  Oreius led the way, Relam following behind, ready to react at a moment’s notice should the bandit try to escape. But the captured man seemed content to bounce along on the front of Oreius’ saddle like a sack of potatoes, grunting with pain every so often but for the most part staying quiet.

  A few minutes later, they arrived back at the bandit camp. All of Relam’s soldiers had returned to the ground and were searching the tents for survivors. So far, only three had been found. They were sitting in the center of camp, hands and feet bound, menaced by five of the archers and a pair of swordsmen. The sergeants had taken over the central pavilion, taking inventory of everything the bandits had left behind.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” one was saying as Relam and Oreius rode up. “They must have slaughtered a dozen caravans in the last month alone!”

  “It is impressive,” another agreed. “I’ve never seen so much wealth just piled up like this.”

  As Relam dismounted, the officers finally took notice of him. “Sir!” one said, springing to attention. “We’ve taken the camp and await your orders, sir!”

  “I can see that,” Relam replied drily. “Oreius, put our prisoner with the others please.”

  The old warrior shoved the bandit out of the saddle, letting him fall with a thud that made Relam wince. “Oops,” Oreius said, unsmiling. “Sorry about that.”

  The sergeants laughed and two stepped forward to drag the groaning and winded bandit to the place where the other survivors were being kept. Relam stepped forward to join their little circle, Oreius not far behind.

  “What have we found so far?” he asked, curious.

  “A small fortune in trade goods for one,” a sergeant immediately replied. “Plus a surprising amount of hard money.”

  “How much?”

  The sergeants moved aside and Relam caught his breath stunned. A glittering pile of silver and gold coins rested on a wide wooden table. A large chest, which had most likely held the wealth now scattered on the table, lay to one side.

  “Search the men outside,” Relam said quietly, raking a hand through the coins. “Make sure they took nothing with them.”

  “Yes, sir!” a sergeant replied, marching out of the tent immediately.

  “That’s quite a bit of wealth for any group of bandits, no matter how many caravans they’ve raided,” Oreius observed, touching the coins with a gnarled forefinger.

  “And I wouldn’t expect merchants to carry this much cash with them,” Relam continued. “Seems risky.”

  “Where else would they have gotten it?” a sergeant asked.

  “That’s what disturbs me most,” Oreius murmured, looking at Relam.

  The prince wasn’t sure what Oreius meant by that. “Load everything up,” he said briskly. “We’ll take the lot back to Etares. Check around for places where the earth is turned up as well, in case they buried some of their loot for safekeeping.”

  The sergeants murmured their assent and left the pavilion, while Relam and Oreius continued standing over the table, examining the pile of coins.

  “Nobles,” Oreius said, picking one of the coins up. “The most common and least traceable of coins.”

  “Yes,” Relam agreed, picking up the ironbound chest. “At least it can be used for good now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Relam shrugged. “I rather thought that the benefits of this expedition might go towards helping clean up the capital. The west side in particular.”

  Oreius folded his arms across his chest. “And just how do you plan to do that?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Relam replied. “But I’ll figure it out along the way.”

  He began sweeping coins into the chest, holding it along the side of the table to catch the falling money. As he did, a slip of parchment was exposed, fluttering among the tumbling metal as it fell into the chest.

  Instantly Oreius swooped on it, plucking the parchment from the mound of coins. Relam set the chest to one side and craned his neck trying to get a good look. “What is it?”

  Oreius held it out for Relam to see. “A promise of payment. One thousand Sthan nobles for continued operation in the forestlands here.”

  “They were being paid to raid caravans?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “By who?”

  Oreius shrugged, dropping the parchment into Relam’s hands. “Doesn’t tell us that. There is no signature of any kind, no symbols.”

  “Some sort of bandit overlord?” Relam wondered setting the parchment to one side. “Maybe he takes the trade goods and pays the fighters for their efforts?”

  “Maybe,” Oreius said shrugging. “But there are an awful lot of trade goods lying around here.”

  “They held the best back?”

  “Possibly.” The old warrior raked a hand through his mane of hair, growling in frustration. “So many possibilities, and so few clues. Maybe the prisoners can help us.”

  “Maybe. Especially the one we ran down,” Relam agreed. “He came from this pavilion, remember?”

  Oreius nodded. “Yes, I-”

  He broke off as one of the sergeants reentered the pavilion. “Your man had some more nobles on him,” he said, nodding to Relam as he dumped a double handful of gold coins into the chest. “Seems they grabbed all they could carry before running.”

  Relam nodded. “Thank you, sergeant. Carry on.”

  The sergeant saluted and retreated from the pavilion. Relam sighed and went back to packing up the priceless contents of the table. When he had finished, he shut the chest and handed it to Oreius.

  “Keep that safe, will you? I’m going to go and see how the others are getting along.”

  Oreius hefted the chest, holding it under one arm. “It’s safe with me,” he promised. “But by the look of things, there’s even more wealth in those carts that were parked in the center of camp. Good haul for the bandits.”

  Relam shook his head in disgust and exited the pavilion. He hadn’t noticed the contents of the carts earlier, but now he took time to look. The first cart was filled with silks and priceless fabrics. The second was filled with food and weapons, and some of the swords and knives had jeweled hilts. The rest of the wagons were filled with a jumble of goods: furs from the north, oils and fragrances from Mizzran, iron from the Najni range and much more besides.

  “Impressive,” Relam muttered, jumping down from the last wagon. “Get all of the wagons ready to move,” he ordered the nearest soldiers. “We’re taking the lot back to Etares.”

  The next three hours was spent organizing and loading trade goods and money. Fortunately, there were plenty of horses and oxen to pull the carts, since the bandits had used the beasts to bring the loot to the camp. There was also a clear track, leading north from the bandits’ camp, which gradually angled back towards the main road.

  Before setting off, they ate a hearty, celebratory lunch around several large fires. For the f
irst time in two days everyone had a hot meal and there was a complete lack of nervous tension in the air. The mission was a success, with minimal injuries, and that was cause for much celebration. Only a few soldiers had even been wounded in the battle, and none had been slain. The four prisoners, all that remained of the sixty-odd bandits that had been plaguing the Midwood, sat quietly to one side. They were not offered food or drink, nor were they foolish enough to beg for any.

  When at last every stomach was full, the cavalry mounted up and moved into formation. A handful of soldiers abandoned their normal mounts to act as wagon drivers for the journey home. The prisoners were bound at the wrists and linked together by a lead rope, tied to one of the wagons. They shambled along in the middle of the procession, utterly miserable and completely defeated.

  Relam and Oreius led the way once more, riding out in front of their victorious soldiers. Though the pace of the march was far slower on the way back than on the way to the bandit camp, Relam was content and cheerful, and for the first time he was able to appreciate the serene beauty of the forest around him without worrying about what threats it might conceal.

  An hour into the journey home, Oreius moved closer to Relam so they could talk privately.

  “So, was it everything you hoped for?” he asked, jerking his head at the cavalry following behind them.

  Relam smiled. “I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he said finally. “I thought that I wasn’t qualified, that I didn’t know what I was doing. But I guess I did all right, with your help. No soldiers lost, sixty bandits dead or captured, and a small fortune in trade goods and money.”

  The prince paused, his smile fading slightly. “And yet . . . the battle itself was terrible.” When Oreius said nothing he forged on, trying to explain himself. “I mean, we won, obviously, and that was good . . . well, great. But there was so much pain . . . and death.”

  “I understand,” Oreius replied softly. “More than you know. War is a terrible thing, Relam. But, it is often necessary. There are evil forces in this world, bent on killing and destruction. And it is the job of warriors and soldiers to hold them back, keep them at bay, so that normal people can live their lives in peace.”

  Relam nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right,” he murmured. “It’s just complicated.”

  “Actually, this engagement was quite simple,” Oreius pointed out. “Evil men doing bad things. I’d say we did the right thing by putting an end to it.” The old warrior looked away for a moment and lowered his voice even further. “The right path is not always so clear.”

  They fell into silence, each occupied with his own thoughts, and continued the journey back to Etares. Behind them, the soldiers rode in their disciplined formation, the wagons plodding along in their midst. The sun traced its path across the sky, until finally it began to sink in the west. At that point Relam called a halt and camp was set up. Fires were built and the second hot meal of the day prepared. Then, after a pleasant evening, the men rolled themselves in their blankets and slept.

  The next day passed in much the same way. The cavalry rose early, prepared the wagons and started on their way, following the forest road back north and east, towards Etares. The weather remained fair and they made good time. By the time camp was made that night, they were less than a day’s ride from Etares.

  About midafternoon the following day, the cavalry emerged from the Midwood and rode out onto the plains around Etares. Ahead, the walls of the city were visible, as well as the tops of some of the larger houses and the towers of the Citadel.

  “Nearly there,” Relam said to Oreius, smiling. “And a day early at that.”

  Oreius grunted in reply.

  Relam turned in the saddle to look at the old man. “Something the matter?”

  Oreius glanced at him from under his bushy eyebrows. “Hmm? Oh, well, yes there is, actually.” He harrumphed and frowned again, staring down at his saddle, deep in thought.

  Relam waited, wondering what was on the old warrior’s mind.

  “The problem,” Oreius finally said. “Is that I promised a decision on whether or not I would train you upon our return to the capital.”

  “Oh,” Relam said, understanding. “Is it that hard of a decision?” he asked, suddenly worried.

  Oreius snorted. “Not hardly. I must confess that my mind was all but made up even before we left.”

  In favor of or against? The prince waited on tenterhooks for the promised decision, hoping that Oreius would agree to train him. He had grown to like the old man’s irascible nature in the last few days, and his knowledge and skill were incredible.

  Relam continued to wait, and all the while they drew closer and closer to the gates of Etares. He did not dare speak, or rush Oreius for an answer, lest he unwittingly tip the scales in the wrong direction. Finally, as the west gate swung open to admit the victorious soldiers, Oreius heaved a great sigh.

  “I will train you,” he announced.

  For a moment, Relam wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ll train you,” Oreius repeated. “Once you have had your traditional twelve months off, of course. Return to my house then, and we will begin your training. You have impressed me, Relam. Tar told me all that you could be, all that you were, but I had to see for myself. You have great potential, boy. As a warrior, and as a future king.”

  Relam bowed from the waist as they rode under the portcullis and back into Etares. “Thank you, master,” he said humbly.

  Oreius grunted. “Well, that’s taken care of. Good job leading the mission, boy. I’ll see you in a year.”

  And with that, the sword master urged his horse into a canter and rode off towards his home in the eastern part of the capital.

  Chapter 19

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Cevet, you know I wouldn’t joke about something like this. It’s real, it’s happened.”

  The smaller cadet dashed sweat from his forehead and heaved a huge sigh. “You realize that you must be the first cadet ever to get approval from a master three weeks after passing the trials? And to be approved for training by Oreius, the best of them all!”

  Relam nodded, setting his practice sword down. “Yes. It’s not something that happens every day. I’m just glad he didn’t turn me down. Then I would have had to train with D’Arnlo, and I’m not ready for that.”

  Cevet sat and looked around Tar Agath’s training facility. They had met that morning for another sparring session, and worked themselves to exhaustion with twelve bouts, seven to Relam, five to Cevet. Only now had they had a chance to discuss business, such as Relam’s finding a master.

  “This will put Garenes in a state I’m sure,” he muttered. “You training with Oreius. He was so looking forward to D’Arnlo favoring him over you.”

  “He should get used to disappointment,” Relam grunted, sitting as well. “Do you think he’ll go after Oreius as well to try and match me?”

  “I certainly hope so,” Cevet said eagerly. “If only we could be there to watch when it happens.”

  “Do you think he’ll be thrown in the river?”

  “It’s certainly possible.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment, then Cevet shot a sidelong glance at Relam. “While we’re on the subject, what were you doing with Oreius and those soldiers for the last week or so? Some kind of mission?”

  Relam rolled his eyes in exasperation. “It was supposed to be a secret mission,” he pointed out.

  “Well you can’t expect it to stay a secret when you parade through the city with a hundred mounted soldiers, four prisoners and wagonloads of treasure.”

  The prince nodded soberly, remembering that day. He had taken the cavalry back to the palace as an escort for the wagons full of bandit loot. Along the way, they had turned the prisoners over to the Citadel, where they had been locked in the Eyrie tower with the remaining assassins. Relam hadn’t heard if they had been questioned or if any useful information had been ob
tained from the new captives.

  As the column had moved through the city, it gathered quite a following. People crowded the streets as the cavalry passed with all the soldiers in bright armor and Relam out in front of it all, a conquering hero. When they had arrived at the palace, the wagons had been parked as close together as possible and a perimeter set up to keep the people away.

  It had taken only minutes for the king to arrive and take charge of the situation. The wagons were spirited off to the treasury, the people dispersed, and the soldiers returned to their barracks.

  “This is more than I ever imagined,” Orram had said at the time, raking a hand through his hair. “Well done, Relam. Very well done.”

  “Is the meeting still on today?” Relam asked Cevet now, glancing at him.

  Cevet shrugged. “As far as I know, yes.”

  Relam nodded. “Then I’d better get going, it’s only an hour or so until it starts. Any updates on the mood of the Assembly or the Council?”

  “Other than they’re confused and want to know what the hell is going on?” Cevet asked with a grin. “No not really.”

  “Good,” Relam muttered. “See you next week. If the Assembly meeting doesn’t kill me from boredom.”

  Relam stood, retrieved his gear, and waved to Tar Agath. The sword master nodded briefly in farewell, then went back to correcting a boy’s technique. The prince smiled to himself as he slipped through the outer gate. Tar had always been a teacher first, ahead of everything else.

  Relam made the trip back to the palace in record time, hurrying up flights of stairs and along corridors. His father was waiting in the sitting room when he arrived.

  “Best get cleaned up,” the king said shortly. “You’ve got twenty minutes ‘til we leave.”

  Relam said nothing, merely ran into his room and began his frantic preparations.

  Twenty minutes later, Relam emerged, washed, refreshed, and dressed in court finery, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the light fabrics and rich half cape. He much preferred the rough and ready feel of half armor, like he had worn during his mission in the Midwood for the last week.