by RG Long
She had to go faster.
At the end of the road she saw them: her mother, brother, and father.
If she was fast enough, she could get there in time.
She could save them.
Faster and faster she ran.
And then, right before her and blocking her way, a man without a face stood in the street.
A cruel, evil laugh came from his direction, but Blume didn't know how someone with no mouth could give out such an evil sound.
She tried to run around him, but he just got bigger and bigger, blocking her way.
Then she saw her family pleading for her to run faster. To save them.
The faceless man held a sword in his hand. He turned and lifted the sword higher. The weapon was coming down on her family. And at the same time, she felt that it was coming down on her.
Her head resonated with the sound of the faceless man's laughter.
The sound pierced her skull and she startled awake.
Just as she sat up, she saw the very real, not imagined, candle-lit face staring at her from a mere arm’s length away.
7: The Princess
Navigating the castle of Thoran was a skill that did not come naturally to Ealrin. The very first time he had come here with Holve and the other King’s Swords, he had been hopelessly lost.
Now he was just plain lost.
Some of the tapestries were becoming familiar to him now. The goblin raid on the ancient castle reminded him to turn left. A troll being defeated by a previous king of Thoran signaled a right.
After backtracking twice, Ealrin found himself with the balcony that overlooked the city. Standing on it with her hands resting on the railing and, more than likely, still seething with anger, was Teresa.
He slowed his walk as he approached her. Though he tried to lighten his step and quietly join her, he was no elf.
“I can hear you,” Teresa said without even turning around.
Ealrin smiled, despite knowing the conversation he was about to have would be difficult. Being holed up in this castle had not blunted the warrior's sense Teresa possessed. He positioned himself next to her on the balcony and looked out over the city.
The night had fallen and now the only thing visible down in the city below was anything lit by lantern or firelight. The dim lights showed movement throughout the streets and houses of the city within the wall.
Beyond the wall was only darkness.
“You can't leave, Teresa,” Ealrin said as he rested his hands on the railing. He had come to love the view of Thoran at night. Though the world was being thrown into chaos, there was something about the night's view that brought him a moment's peace.
“When you are the king of this country, only then will you tell me what to do, Ealrin,” Teresa replied in a noticeably calmer voice than the one she had used in the dining hall.
“And then who will lead these people, Teresa? Who will prepare them for what's to come? And to whom will they look for strength?” Ealrin asked.
He knew he was pushing his luck and that Teresa could lose her cool at any moment. If she stormed off again, he wasn't sure he could find her.
Instead of a heated reply, Teresa let out a deep sigh.
Ealrin stole a sideways glance at the princess of Thoran. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were glassy.
“My father always said I was the strongest of the three of his children. A better warrior than even my two brothers. When they were busy studying politics and the finer arts of debate, I was practicing with my swords. My mother, when she was alive, swore she'd make a proper lady out of me. But I never really fit that role.”
Her voice was soft and contemplative. Ealrin wasn't sure whether she was talking to him or to herself. Regardless, he pressed on.
“What good would come of you leaving your people at this time? Why go when you're needed here?”
Teresa turned to face Ealrin. Her cheeks became a darker red and a tear rolled onto her cheek.
“Because I can't do this! I'm not fit to lead. I'm trained to fight. These people need a king. They need father. I can't lead them as he did.”
The last few words came loud and strong over the cool night air.
“Then you would leave them to fend for themselves?”
Teresa brought her hand around and struck Ealrin on the cheek. He wasn't ready for the blow and it caught him by surprise. He resisted the urge to retaliate and instead stepped backward. His foot found a potted plant instead of firm ground. As Ealrin fell backward, he reached out to grab the balcony. Instead, he grabbed Teresa's still outstretched hand.
The two fell over on top of the plant, sending greenery and dirt flying.
A castle attendant ran out to the balcony. A boy, no more than twelve years looked flustered and slightly confused at the sight before him.
“Do... Do you require assistance, Milady?”
Ealrin's nose was inches away from Teresa's. It might have been a romantic moment, were it not for the attendant and the look of pure rage on the princess's face.
Quickly, Teresa stood up, brushed herself off, and stalked away from Ealrin, still sitting on the now broken pottery.
“No, thank you,” she said as she passed the boy. “But this man may need some cleaning up. And a reminder about his place.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Ealrin, turned a corner, and disappeared, leaving him still lying on the floor of the balcony.
This had not gone how he had planned.
***
EALRIN DID NOT WAKE well rested. All night he had tossed and turned, trying to think of what would happen if Teresa left the country of Thoran without a true leader.
In a way, he understood her pain. How hard it must be to sit in the chair so recently occupied by her father and rule in his stead. Her brothers were supposed to be groomed for the throne. Teresa was only prepared for war.
Knowing that her father would not be returning to his kingdom and that she must now lead in his stead must surely weigh heavy on her. Then comes the one suggestion to leave this place in order to seek out help and she's told not to go. Ealrin thought about how he might feel, were he in her shoes.
Conflicted about wanting what was best for his country, yet trying to do what would keep him sane at the same time. Get help by leaving and have something to occupy his mind, or stay with the sad memories and lead the people directly.
How hard it must be to lead a nation when you feel at war with yourself.
The first of the twin suns rose over the horizon and accompanied the morning song of several birds outside his window. Groggily, Ealrin drug himself out of bed and began to wash his face from the basin of water that rested on his bedside table.
Cool water helped to stir him awake. He groped for the towel beside the basin and, after a moment, finally found it. As he took down the towel from his face, he was met with the stare of Tory standing in his doorway.
Ealrin startled and nearly fell back onto his bed when he saw his unexpected visitor. Tory looked down at him with an almost grin.
“And you survived the battle with Androlion's forces?” he asked as he leaned against the doorframe.
Struggling to return to his feet, Ealrin threw the towel at him.
“Yes! And led men into battle against an enemy face to face!” Ealrin was embarrassed, but only slightly.
Tory caught the towel deftly and folded it.
“Teresa wants to see you,” he said as he threw the fabric onto Ealrin's bed.
Ealrin put his hand to his forehead and let out an exasperated sigh.
This would not be good.
***
BEGRUDGINGLY, EALRIN opened the door to the throne room. He was sure there were fancier places for a king to sit in the world somewhere. Tables lined the side of the hall. These were typically reserved for the guests of the king or important banquets. Today, they held Gorplin, asleep at his mug. His snores echoed throughout the chamber, and had Ealrin been in a better mood he would have found the sight of
the dwarf sprawled out on the table clutching his ale quite funny.
But his thoughts were more on the princess who sat on the throne in front of him. The same princess who glared at him with piercing eyes.
Ealrin had not stopped to consider if Teresa were the sort of ruler who would put someone in the castle's dungeons if they offended her. Now he wished he had given the matter more thought.
Stopping a few paces from the bottom of the stairs, Ealrin bowed low.
“Milady,” he said. His voice sounded strange. Like his throat needed a good clearing.
He stared down at the stone floor, much aware of the beating of his own heart.
Teresa let out a sigh, and Ealrin began to sweat.
This is it, he thought.
“Ealrin Bealouve,” she began to say. He noted that her voice was quivering. Was it with rage? Or some other emotion?
The answer would be lost as the doors to the hall swung open and six guards ran into the chamber, startling Gorplin awake and sending him rolling off the table in a slew of cursing.
“Milady! Outside the walls! Goblins!”
8: Of Necessity
The sound of catapults loosing their payloads echoed throughout the castle walls. Ealrin ran in a full sprint behind Teresa and the guards who had alerted her to the attack. He caught bits and pieces of the information one of them was shouting at her over the din.
“Must have snuck up through the trees during the night... Can't tell how many... We've only counted four catapults...”
Not dire news. But no reason to celebrate either.
The company finally came to a halt at one of the balconies of the castle. From here, it was easy to tell that the city was under attack. Missiles flew over the walls and crashed into buildings, scattering roofs and people in all directions. The familiar colors of maroon and gold were gathering upon the outer walls and shooting arrows at an unseen foe. Teresa beat the railing of the balcony with her fist.
“Our respite has ended,” she said as her eyes scanned the walls of the city. Thoran was a mountain fortification, with only one true wall at the southern end. Natural stone protected the rest of the citizens from invasion.
A huge rock soared over the wall and landed atop one of the nicer stores the city had to offer. Nearly within a stones throw of the castle wall.
“We must retaliate and neutralize those catapults. Have they attempted to scale the wall yet, officer?”
“No, Milady. We've seen no ladders yet. They keep just behind the tree line and fire from within.
Teresa snarled the word “Cowards,” before she began to bark orders at those assembled.
“Officer, you will direct your men to return fire at any goblin who dares to show its face. And remember to inform those on the wall not to touch the projectiles they send at us. They're probably poisoned. I will join you momentarily.”
The officer saluted and left the balcony. Teresa then turned her attention to the others gathered there.
“You two ensure that those incapable of fighting are escorted into the castle courtyard and out of harm's way. You, see to the stockpiles in the storehouses and report back to me with how long we can withstand a siege. And you...”
She pointed at the last soldier who had yet to be given orders but was interrupted before she could complete her sentence. The man gave a sharp click of his heels and a salute.
“Milady, we are ready to defend you unto death!”
Teresa blinked a moment as she considered this statement. Her finger was still pointing in his direction.
Words failed her for a moment. Ealrin stared at the youth.
He looked no older than twenty. Red haired and blue eyed. Though these two features were distinct, he was neither attractive nor offensive to the eyes. He was quite ordinary apart from his red hair. Ealrin hadn't seen a single sole in Thoran with red hair save for this young soldier.
“What's your name?”
“Bertrom Whiteshield, Milady.”
Teresa looked him over for a moment.
“I have trained most of the young soldiers in Thoran's army. I don't have a perfect memory, but I doubt I would forget your red hair. You aren't from Thoran are you?”
It was not an accusatory statement, but a curious question. Ealrin knew what it sounded like when Teresa was going after someone. He was only recently one of her targets. Her voice held more curiosity than scorn. And yet she transfixed this man.
“No ma’am. I'm from Loran. I joined the army right before the battle against the Southern Republic.”
“What of your family?” she asked.
Bertrom eyes sank at her question.
“The war has taken much from those who live in Thoran, Milady. You are not the only one to lose those dearest to you.”
Ealrin's heart broke for this young man. How many others shared his story? Family and home stolen from them in a time of violence and madness?
“And you would lay down your life for mine?” Teresa asked him, still holding him in her gaze.
Bertrom paused a moment. The glaze in his eyes disappeared and was replaced with a resolute determination. He dropped his salute and bowed before her.
“Milady, your father was a good king. Our lands have prospered under him. Your brothers are traveling in the north. The whole kingdom knows that. You are all that remains of the house of Thoran to lead us in these troubled times. You are our ruler, and I am your subject. What other service might I give my princess?”
Ealrin didn't know which was stranger to him: the sight of someone bowing before Teresa and saying he would willingly give his life for hers, or the look of confusion on Teresa's face.
Teresa inhaled deeply and looked directly at Ealrin, though her words were a command to Bertrom.
“I would have you come with me Bertrom. I am going to show you one of the secrets of Thoran. But first, we'll need to gather the King’s Swords. And their equipment for a journey.”
“Bah! About time someone noticed I was standing here!”
Ealrin turned around to see a very groggy and hungover Gorplin leaning on his axe in the doorway.
“Where's everyone else, then?” he asked as he picked something out of his teeth with his little finger.
***
AFTER RUNNING THROUGHOUT the castle, signaling to a guard every so often, Teresa, Ealrin and Bertrom had gathered most of the King’s Swords. Only one remained.
“Where's Lote?” Tory asked as they all gathered in front of a large tapestry that depicted a former King of Thoran defending the castle from troll invaders.
In answer to his question, the tapestry moved aside as a door behind it was pushed open.
“I've been waiting for you, as requested,” Lote said as she stepped from the door. Ealrin felt a cool rush of wind come from the opened portal. A quick look into it showed him only a dark hallway.
“What are your orders, Milady?” Lote asked Teresa. “Why have us get our packs when there are enemies at our gate? Are we to join the fight?”
Teresa considered them all for a moment, looking each in the face.
“No,” she said as another catapult's missile crashed into the city, causing the castle to give a small shudder. “You're going north, as discussed last night.”
There was an awkward shuffling amongst the ranks of the Swords.
“Bah, but what about you?” Gorplin said incredulously and obviously unaware of the awkwardness of the situation. “Uh, Milady,” he added hastily as he glanced and saw Lote staring daggers at him.
Teresa sighed and began her answer.
“I had a revelation recently. This morning actually. I am not a suitable ruler. My father was a king beyond all others and not just in my eyes,” Teresa glanced at Bertrom with this statement. “But his was a time of peace. Now we are at war. I am not a queen. I am a warrior. It seems that is what this kingdom is in need of. I wanted to leave so that someone more qualified might rule in my stead. I see that was selfish. What my country needs is aid from the n
orth and a general to lead them into battle. I will lead them, as is my duty. I'm counting on you all to get aid. If I have learned anything from my time on the continent of Ruyn, it is that as one we may fail. It is when we unite that we accomplish greatness. Go quickly, Swords. And return with aid as soon as you are able. This may be only the first of many battles.”
Teresa drew her sword and held it high.
All those who stood around mimicked her. All except one.
“Bertrom Whiteshield,” Teresa said as she looked to him. “I would have you raise your sword along with ours.”
The red headed youth looked confused.
“Milady?” he asked.
“I'm sending you on a journey with a friend of mine,” she said as she looked over at Ealrin. Bertrom looked from Ealrin to Teresa and then back again.
“A journey?” he repeated.
“And,” she added, “I am making you a member of the King’s Swords.”
***
THREE TORCHES WERE all that lit the passageway the six now walked along. Roughly hewn from the mountain, Ealrin was sure Teresa had actually refused to come due to a fear of enclosed spaces. The tunnel was barely tall enough for Ealrin to stand straight up. Tory, who was a bit taller than he, had to stoop to avoid hitting his head. To touch the sides of the tunnel, all Ealrin had to do was to stretch out his arms. Looking ahead, he knew Lote wanted to be the leader so that she could see the sunshine on the other side of the tunnel first. Lote hated being underground.
Gorplin, however, was in his element.
“Ah! Now this is more like it! Give me a tunnel and a pick any time and I'll show you what real work looks like! This tunnel could use some reinforcement on the left and a little bit of...”
Ealrin tried to block out the dwarf's ramblings. He almost felt sorry for Gaflion, who said so little, for having to accompany the talkative dwarf on this quest.
“Now this rock here is a fine specimen of limestone! Look at the deposits on the side...”