Homecoming

by Tull Harrison

  Sword blows kept coming from either side, but they grew more and more clumsy. When Delmer did not think he could manage to hold his sword much longer, his opponent’s blow hit the base of his hilt.

  Unable to keep his grip on it, the sword went flying to the ground like the shield had done. Delmer's knees buckled involuntarily. His opponent held his own sword poised to strike.

  "Yield," he commanded huskily, his voice dry and cracked.

  If I yield, then I will only die at a later date. I cannot yield, or I lose everything. I will not take the easy way out of this fight!

  Gritting his teeth, he stared into the man’s face, praying that he would not notice what Delmer had grasped at. Looking his opponent in the eye, the king growled the barely audible words, "I will not!"

  Before the man could launch his final, weary blow, Delmer sprang forward with more energy than he had known he possessed. Coming from the ground, he easily got inside the man's guard and drove the dagger he had picked up into his heart.

  His worthy opponent’s eyes widened right before he dropped, lifeless, to the dirt. Swaying on his feet, Delmer retrieved his sword and shield.

  As he turned to face the crowd for the first time, Delmer searched for King Marus, who sat astride his horse with a furious scowl on his face. The young king lifted his chin at his adversary and pronounced in a voice for all to hear, "Malzepher is the winner of this war by right of this combat. The honorable leaders of both armies will meet in this field in three days’ time to discuss the terms of the peace treaty."

  With the last dregs of his strength Delmer made his way to the edge of the Malzepherian army before his knees buckled a second time.

  Tully and General Portam rushed forward to support their champion, who had just won the war for them. "You've done it Your Majesty. Malzepher is safe."

  Delmer passed out smiling, relieved at the last words he heard.

  Chapter 18

  When Delmer awoke, light illuminated his pavilion. It was late, and he tried to roll out of his temporary bed. The attempt sent him collapsing on the ground, moaning in agony. Every single part of his body screamed in pain.

  The healer who had been his father's physician helped him gently back into bed. His voice was torn between laughing and scolding. "My, you are one of the worst patients I have ever seen. Do you really think you should be getting up this morning after you almost died yesterday?"

  Images of the fight came back to Delmer instantly. In his utter exhaustion, he had almost forgotten about the combat. He had enough strength left to sound skeptical, "I almost died? All I got were cuts."

  The healer settled on scolding. "You taxed your body and muscles to the point where your heart began to fail. You would not be alive right now if it were not for my skill, your will to live, and the hardiness of youth. Even so, you slept an entire day."

  Delmer gaped openly. "Then, thank you Healer Keller. I owe you my life."

  Keller laughed this time. "And I owe you mine, and everyone else's in Malzepher. Now, by your own proclamation you have two days before you must meet with the Noennaans. I suggest you focus on feeling better."

  Healer Keller turned to leave, but called over his shoulder, "If you ever feel tired today, tell your visitors to leave you — for you will get plenty of visitors."

  As soon as the healer exited, a familiar figure rushed in and began to lick his face. Morag whined and whimpered, and Delmer smiled. He slowly and painfully raised his hand to stroke the dog's face.

  "Well, I see Morag's found you. Healer Keller wouldn't let her in."

  Delmer looked up to spot Tully standing at the entrance of the tent.

  "Tully, I figured you'd be the first to be here." Delmer found that his voice was far weaker than he had expected.

  "Yes, the first. But not the only,” Tully replied happily.

  "So Keller told me.”

  "You pulled off an amazing feat yesterday, Delmer. I feared for your life. It seems that everyone in your family thinks nothing of putting themselves at risk."

  "I certainly thought something of it, because I was scared to death yesterday morning," Delmer retorted dryly.

  "But not in the afternoon?" Tully asked curiously.

  Frowning, Delmer explained as best he could. "I think I must have been in some type of trance in the afternoon. I could not feel pain, emotion, or exhaustion. I believe that the trance was the only thing that actually kept me going."

  "I had suspected as much. I saw how you were on our first skirmish with the pirates and realized you must have been ultra-focused again."

  Morag took that moment to jump lightly onto the bed. She lay across Delmer's legs and he nearly screamed in pain. Morag was no longer a puppy and weighed a good amount.

  Tully looked at his friend and king with concern. "Do you want me to move her?"

  "No, it's fine,” Delmer managed to gasp. “That would probably only cause more pain."

  Tully nodded. "Honestly, Sire, I'm just thankful you're alive."

  "Me too, though I'm gladder that Malzepher is intact," Delmer replied gravely.

  "As am I. Now I will take my leave. As I’ve said, you have many visitors. Goodbye, Sire."

  "Goodbye, Tully." Delmer called after his advisor and friend.

  As expected, General Portam was next into the tent; he came to the side of the king’s bed and bowed deeply.

  "I served as a mercenary before joining the army." Portam's voice was steady, even if his face was not. “And I’ve never seen a fight like that. You deserved all our trust, Sire.”

  "Thank you, General. It was my duty to try," Delmer replied wearily.

  "I believe what you did was much more than your duty, but I should have expected nothing less of you after knowing your father."

  That was truly the highest praise Delmer could have ever wanted.

  "It means a lot that you would say that."

  Portam cleared his throat. "I wished to inform you that reinforcements from Borse and Rugerr have arrived, and they would have been too late. That makes your decisive intervention all the more crucial. We would have lost without the combat." He bid Delmer farewell.

  The next into the tent was Simeon. At first the old fighter said nothing, only stared at Delmer. His eyes were full of pride.

  "Well fought, young Delmer." Simeon repeated the words he had used so long ago when Delmer had done well in their secret training.

  "Thank you, Master," Delmer responded with the same words from so long ago. He also pressed his left fist gently into his open right palm, as a gesture of respect.

  Nothing more was said between them, but nothing more needed to be said. With a pat to Morag, Simeon headed out of the tent.

  Those three visits started a flood of others. Delmer was lucky to know the names of the people who came to thank him. A few were peasants and farmers who had volunteered to fight. They always brought some sort of gift. Delmer realized how little they had to give and was grateful.

  The remainder of his guests were old friends and ranking officers Delmer knew well. The two admirals reported victory over the pirates.

  Finally, Healer Keller entered the pavilion and shooed the last of the visitors out, saying that King Delmer needed rest. Delmer agreed with that statement.

  I feel as if I just fought all over again.

  Morag was still curled up comfortably at his feet. Delmer had to disturb her to get into a position that caused less pain, but she didn't seem to mind. Even hurting as he was, it took little time for him to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

  The third day Delmer awoke with his pain only slightly lessened. His shoulders hurt the worst, especially the left one, where the dagger had ripped through. He could barely move his arms without wincing. Still, I must get up; it is the day of the treaty.

  Before the healer had a chance to stop him, Delmer rolled slowly out of bed, landing on his feet. Controlling his desire to moan, he carefully dressed himself in a simple loose tunic and breeches.

 
; Morag jumped down and rubbed against his leg gently, realizing he was in pain. He noticed that Tymon stood on his perch but did not move to take up the falcon. His weight would be too much for Delmer.

  Absently, he rubbed his dog's head. Servants who had been waiting just out of sight rushed forward. Carefully they helped their king into his mail and then his surcoat. The leg wraps caused him pain. The servants loosely buckled a sword belt around his waist. The sword was only for show; he was in no shape to wield it. Still, a commander of troops must appear ready to fight at all times.

  Finally, they buckled on Morag's leather breastplate. They handed him his gauntlets and helmet and bowed themselves out. Slinging his bow and quiver across his back in a wrenching motion, he winced again. There was no way he would be able to use it, but he took it, nonetheless.

  Outfitted in full battle regalia, Delmer made his way out of the tent. Outside, he found not only Healer Keller hovering nearby, but also five young men.

  The one closest to the tent was a lesser noble called Knick. Delmer could not recall his true name, but the fond nickname had been earned through excellent sword work. He was several years older than the king.

  The other man was older than any of the others. Trent was one of the palace guards, and he had been Delmer's sparring partner more than once. Trent was known for his swordsmanship, but was more than competent with other weapons. In fact, he looked like a walking armory.

  Cory and Alain were the third and fourth of the five men. Their strung bows rested across their backs, but they outwardly appeared relaxed. I know better. Those two are no more relaxed than I am Queen of Noenna.

  The last man, really no more than a boy, Delmer did not know. He could not be older than fifteen and bore more than a passing resemblance to Cory. The boy had a battered rapier, a rare weapon in Malzepher, and a bow across his back.

  Seeing his king's interest, the boy flushed. "My name is Raymond, Sir. I am Cory's younger brother. He trained me himself. It is an honor to meet the savior of our country."

  Delmer smiled kindly at the boy. "Thank you, Raymond. Here," he tossed his helm to the young man. Raymond caught it, and looked at his king in awe.

  Delmer surveyed his men. "Hmm...Three swordsmen and two archers; I assume you men are to be my bodyguard." Three High-born and two Low; that would make things interesting.

  Alain, always the boldest, laughed. "Tully is a fair fighter, but he is your seneschal. You need real protection. I also feel compelled to remind you that bodyguards generally require a body to guard, Sire; and you will not have one much longer if you continue to abuse it so recklessly."

  Cory flushed nearly as red as his brother had, whispering furiously to Alain, "This is our king, not just some other noble. You must show respect."

  Delmer laughed softly. "It is no problem, Cory. Even a king needs to be reminded of his health. Now, I believe I need food."

  Healer Keller nodded approval. "Indeed, Sire. I will leave you to the care of your men now."

  Delmer headed stiffly for the mess tents, realizing for the first time that he had hardly eaten for two days. His newly acquired bodyguards trailed after him.

  My subjects may believe their king doesn't require food, but my stomach would disagree. Delmer laughed, but groaned as soon as the pain hit. He had certainly cracked a few ribs.

  He reached the tent and eased himself onto the rough bench. Countless men sat inside. Delmer picked a table that seemed to be comprised of both guards and peasants. Trent and Knick went to go fetch his food while the other three men stood off in the shadows nearby.

  The commotion that the king caused when he took his seat was almost comical. Heads automatically turned to where he sat. He was instantly bombarded by praise and expressions of gratitude. Smiling, he acknowledged them.

  A guard member he recognized introduced him to some of the men he didn't know. Delmer was intrigued. Never before had he encountered so many Low-born in one place, and some told a little about their lives.

  To think in just over fifty years Malzepherians have become entrenched in a system of oppressive aristocracy...

  His food showed up shortly. With faint surprise, Delmer realized that it was identical to every other soldier's fare.

  Knick quickly noted that surprise. "If you do not mind, Sire, it is wise to eat like every other man. You see, if an assassin would wish to poison you through food, they would have to poison every soldier here. That might not be so easy to do.”

  Delmer approved. "Excellent thought Knick...I fear I cannot recall your proper name."

  "I am honored that you remembered even my nickname, Sire. My birth name is Ricard, though I have not gone by it since I began sword training."

  Delmer nodded and then turned to his food. Though it was common fare, it tasted better than any courtly feast. How long has it been since I have eaten?

  Pushing himself up from the table when he was done, he staggered for a few steps. The other soldiers politely pretended not to notice. His self-appointed bodyguards followed him like hounds on a scent.

  Morag rejoined him as soon as he exited the mess tent. Slowly making his way around camp, Delmer periodically sat with groups of soldiers and talked to them. They appreciated his efforts while praising his combat skills. What they don't realize is that I kill two birds at once by sitting with them. I get to meet those I command, and I can rest.

  The early afternoon of the third day passed much like the morning. The only difference was that the pain in his body had lessened slightly. It seemed that every soldier and peasant involved in the fighting wanted to meet him. Then again, I am their king.

  Delmer glanced up at the sun to read its position and started towards the command tent. Striding into it with some of his old strength, he acknowledged the bows directed at him and turned to the map pinned to the central table.

  "We have set up a pavilion at the meeting spot simply to make it more formal,” Tully pointed out.

  The king nodded and looked to General Portam. "What terms should we pose to the Noennaans? Though we won, we must also keep in mind that they still have a larger army than us."

  "Indeed, though we have the larger cavalry," Joanne noted in her gravelly voice.

  General Portam listed the terms. "I propose a simple treaty. However, I suggest we demand compensation in half goods and half gold to pay for our losses. I would also give them twenty days at most to be off our land. The last thing I suggest is to clarify that the Impenetrable Mountains are ours."

  Delmer surveyed his commanders for their reaction, and his eyes fell on the Borse general, who met his stare. "General Raito?"

  "Majesty, I believe it would be wise if I accompanied you to show that your side has been strengthened significantly." The Borse general was older than anyone else in the room but seemed to have lost none of his prowess.

  Not to be outdone, General Ardana of Rugerr spoke up. "I would also accompany you, your Majesty."

  Delmer nodded to them. "Of course. Come, the time draws near."

  Outside the tent, he gingerly mounted Lancelet. One of his falconers held Tymon on his fist. Delmer held his own fist out and the gyrfalcon glided to it. He managed not to grimace. Taking a deep breath, he launched Tymon into the air. Mounting Lancelet was less painful than he had feared. The horse sensed that something was happening, for he eagerly assumed his special parade gait.

  The main commanders, including General Schuss and the other two generals who had been absent thus far, followed him. Once again, General Portam had opted to stay with the army along with General Wyatt. Morag ran haphazardly through the horses, appearing to enjoy herself. His bodyguards flanked the party, every nerve in their bodies alert. Tully rode directly behind him with his standard. The foreign generals also had standard bearers with the flags of their countries.

  This trip to the former battle site seemed to take much longer than the previous one. When the pavilion came into view, the company increased its pace. Reaching it, they all dismounted and tethere
d their horses. Other horses were tethered on the opposite side of the tent. The gyrfalcon, which had been circling above, landed on Lancelet's saddle and surveyed Delmer with intelligent eyes.

  Good, I have a scout outside the tent and not just inside.

  Delmer entered the tent and faced the Noennaan dignitaries. He spotted their weapons, stacked against one wall to show that they had no harmful intent. Even King Marus' bodyguards were unarmed.

  Unwilling to part with his weapons but knowing he must, Delmer strode over the opposite wall and placed his sword and bow on the ground. His followers did the same and walked back to the center of the tent. He still had two small daggers hidden on him, because he was not stupid. He knew that every other person in the tent had hidden weapons as well. Morag pressed against his leg, her fur bristling slightly.

  "Well, the terms of surrender?" King Marus asked irritably. Delmer could not identify what other emotion his voice contained.

  Taking a breath, he listed them simply and in a clear voice. As he did so, he surveyed the Noennaan's faces. They ranged from alert and composed to downright anxious. In fact, they seemed overly tense. Spotting Trent and Alain out of the corner of his eye, the king saw suspicion on their faces. Tymon shrieked outside the tent.

  When he finished, Delmer looked at King Marus expectantly, but it was Rogan who spoke from the king's right side. "We reject these terms. Malzepher has not legitimately defeated Noenna, and so we refuse to surrender."

  The Malzepherians roared in outrage.

  "You agreed to the terms of the fight," Delmer managed to say through gritted teeth. "You have lost this war."

  The response to his declaration was a searing pain through Delmer's head. He cried out in agony as the dagger penetrated his eye. Morag growled low in her throat before he heard her yelp. Staggering backwards, the king began to lose consciousness and stumbled as another dagger struck his ribs, close to his heart. As he collapsed to the ground, Delmer was aware of the roaring of his commanders and bodyguards getting louder. Or, maybe it was his only his own blood pouring out of the two wounds and draining his life force away.