Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King)

by Ron Smorynski

  Alfred could see a shimmering portal in the wall to the library. It was small and looked very far away. As he considered moving toward it, it faded from his sight, leaving only the cold stone wall. Before it disappeared, Alfred saw an amazing collection of books, a fountain with golden water and a garden.

  “Yes! How is it that I can zap between home and here, this extradimensional land of castles and knights and goblins?” Alfred asked.

  “Your family was given the gift of magic.”

  “My family? All of us?”

  “Yes, long ago, during the Crusade of the Silver Age, your great grandfather led the battle against the Lords of Silver.”

  “And who were the Lords of Silver?”

  “From what I read of my written memories… though I must say, my former self made only a cursory explanation of such things, whereas, I wrote volumes upon prodigious volumes about spells and powers – well about a few powers, anyway – and these have consumed my time...”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. But what do you know about these silver lords?”

  “Oh, the Lords of Silver... ages ago, they, in Telehistine, suddenly came into much wealth and began distributing their silver for a price.”

  “For a price? For power?”

  “Yes, for power. They handed bags of silver coins to leaders across the West – barons, dukes, knights, kings! All who would bow before them were given silver. The Lords of Silver did this to control their lands and gain dominance.”

  “And my great-grandfather saw this as bad and fought against it?”

  “Yes, Alfred, he saw the corruption. He and many others did as well. The Order of Light asked him to help. He led a growing rebellion to stop this bribing of the free people. Many upon many were followers of the Father of Light, and for a piece of silver they gave up their allegiance to Him and succumbed to the Lords of Silver.”

  “Well, what was so bad about these silver guys? What was the problem if they gave people silver? Didn't that help the local people and the farmers?”

  “Oh, for awhile it did. All seemed joyous and prosperous. The lords paid for food and entertainment. Their riches of silver coin spread throughout the land. People began to forget who they were and the work that needed to be done. Why work on a farm or in a field when a coin of sliver was put in your hand? Drunkenness and places of ill repute spread, and the people grew in their darkness and greed. What the Priests of Light finally realized, and perhaps too late, was that the silver and the selfishness of darkness had spread right under their watch.”

  “What? So people got lazy? Was that something to fight over? Just teach them to be good and do some work.”

  “People, it seems, do the least possible under any circumstance, and if given free coin, they do even less. And the good in the world never shines without effort. So without effort, only the evil and selfish take control. The Lords of Silver destroyed the West – not with an expensive army or costly siege. They merely handed them the money and let them, let us... destroy ourselves.”

  Tirnalth said all this with a sigh.

  “If the West destroyed itself, then the lords must have had another plan as well, a plan to take over the lands?” Alfred asked.

  “Why yes, King Alfred. You are wise beyond your years. The Lords of Silver diminished the West. They enslaved many to do their bidding and were building an army of slaves and dark creatures. They were doing all of this to bring about the destruction and control of all mankind. They wanted to have everyone under the dominion of the Angel of Light!”

  Tirnalth leaned on the table with both fists and stared into the dark corners.

  “You see, Alfred, the Angel of Light was the one the Lords of Silver worshiped. And all who took the silver did too. They thought the Father of Light had brought them a savior, this angel, a being they believed was good and a blessing because he was so beautiful and so giving. Everyone, all the lords and the people, profited from the silver lords’ charity. What they didn’t understand and were deceived about was that the profiting would lead to greed and selfishness and loathing of others. When the Order of Light realized this grave mistake... these very grave mistakes...”

  Tirnalth seemed to lose the will to speak.

  “It was too late!” Alfred said.

  “Almost,” Tirnalth sighed.

  “Oh yes! The Crusade of the Silver Age?!” Alfred remembered.

  “Yes, your great-grandfather and his son, your grandfather, Lord Athelrod, servant of Ahrmahn, King Athelrod the Armoured, King Athelrod the Second – they led the crusade!”

  Tirnalth pointed his finger in defiance at the dark shadows.

  “But they lost, and here we are today,” said Alfred, also with a sigh.

  “No, Alfred, they did not lose. Many of the knights and clerics of the order had an unexpectedly quick change of heart such that he was able to gather a great force. The campaign was long and brutal. Many horrible deceptions and battles tinged with vengeance took place. Many fell in anguish and agony. But King Athelrod the Second, the Holy, persevered. With his remaining ragtag army, he fought many of his own, those corrupted by the silver. Yet still, with that ragtag army, they felled the slave armies of the Lords of Silver. These slave armies were full of hatred and rage derived from the Lords of Silver. In addition to men, they were made up of goblins, foul creatures, great beasts and summoned demons! The small band of King Athelrod crusaders prevailed and vanquished the Lords of Silver! They were no more!”

  “Wow!”

  Alfred was excited. Then he thought further. “But what happened then? Why the darkness now? Why Gorbogal and this Dark Lord? And the West destroyed? And me coming here?”

  “Yes, yes Alfred, I know. These are confusing times. What I know of the Crusades was that the West was successful in overcoming the Lords of Silver. It was a victory won from its most weakened state, and yet here we are struggling. It is something even I still do not understand. I am searching my tomes, trying to comprehend it. Under duress, my former self was writing a vast library on these subjects. Somehow I knew then that my time was short. In that flurry of activity, the details of much either went missing or are hidden somewhere in the vast works this panicked wizard produced. I must have known my time was up before all the books were written and did all I could to warn my very self.”

  Tirnalth sat slumped in his chair.

  “There's so much to learn, Tirnalth the Wizard!” Alfred said, looking to sit, but there was no other chair to be found. He leaned back against cold hard stone.

  “The magic you hold within you – it is the same magic that blessed your great-grandfather, King Athelrod, given to him by the Order of Light, where I came from. It carries on through the blood relations of his descendants,” Tirnalth mumbled the last of this.

  “Not all choose to use it – like my mother?”

  “Yes, Alfred. To choose such powers.... can easily...” Tirnalth's face could not hide the dark memory.

  “Can corrupt... Gorbogal...”

  “Yes, my dear boy – can corrupt.” Tirnalth closed his eyes.

  Chapter Eleven: To Keep a Keep

  Alfred's first day back had been quite busy, from seeing Loranna, to the spectacle of the burgeoning town, to the work of blacksmiths, carpenters and carvers, to meeting Lord Tahnwhithe, Abedeyan, Lady Nihan and Tirnalth. And still, lunch was to be served!

  Alfred decided to eat quickly in the kitchen. He found bread and a warm tea. He liked the smaller rooms of the kitchen, with its warm fireplaces and ovens and walls cluttered with simple pots and pans. There were many tables and benches for cooks and servants. Alfred found it quite comfortable.

  He was chewing on grainy bread when Abedeyan found him. Abedeyan was beside himself, and with the reinforcement of Lady Nihan, he pushed Alfred out to the Great Hall.

  The two insisted that he sit in the huge dusty room. They had servants clear an area near the back where the half finished dais and throne were to be built. A long table was the centerpiece. Several more t
ables were unfinished as boards on the cold stone floor. Lady Nihan had servants place candles and oil lamps on the main table. Servants ran in with plates and bowls. Alfred plopped down at one end and continued chewing on the dry bread. As he had forgotten to butter it, Lady Nihan plopped a large dollop of butter on his bread and set more in a dish on the table. Alfred smiled.

  A warm bowl of soup came. Alfred dipped the buttery crusty bread in it. It tasted of rabbit, cooked in a warm oily broth. It wasn't a stew of rabbit but a soup of rabbit, filled with herbs, carrots and turnips. Oh, the farmers here were doing their work well!

  “Have you eaten Abedeyan?” Alfred asked.

  “Yes I have, but it is improper for the King to eat alone,” he said, waving for his own soup as he sat a space away down the table.

  “This is just like my mother's soup, although she uses beef or pork,” said Alfred, gulping. “But wow! It is the same – gamier though.”

  “Gamier?” Lady Nihan asked, plopping a messy bowl in front of Abedeyan. He pulled out his own wooden spoon as he glared at the backside of Lady Nihan.

  “Well, where I come from the meat is good. It doesn't have that extra meat flavor that you have here.”

  “Why would they not have... the extra meat flavor?”

  “I dunno. They make so many cows on big farms that the cows don't even get to eat grass.”

  “Cows that don't eat grass? What kind of cow is that?”

  “Exactly!”

  Alfred kept his spoon going. Lady Nihan smiled warmly. The servants smiled. Abedeyan slurped from his large spoon. “Bread?”

  Lady Nihan rolled her eyes AND crossed her arms.

  “Where is Lord Dunther?” Alfred asked.

  Everyone froze. A servant coming in with a plate of bread rolls suddenly halted near Lady Nihan. Momentum kept the rolls going. One fell off and rolled with a soft pitter-patter along the floor. Alfred picked it up and dusted it off. He dipped it in the last of his soup and ate it, thinking it scrumptious.

  Abedeyan was cleaning his face with his sleeve when Lady Nihan spoke, “Lord Dunther knows you are here but says he is too busy to meet right now. He is inspecting the new battlements, I believe.”

  “Or drilling his new toy soldiers,” Abedeyan said with a slight sneer and a shrug.

  Alfred could tell both were annoyed and distraught by the mention of Dunther. Alfred remembered a stubborn royal knight who had learned the importance of the people, the farmers. He wasn't sure why they had this different feeling toward him now. It sounded to Alfred as if Dunther was busy doing what he should.

  “Lady Nihan, Head Seamstress to the King, and Abedeyan, Steward of the Castle,” said Alfred.

  Both bowed.

  “Why are you frustrated with Lord Dunther's building up of the defenses for Grotham Keep?”

  “Oh well, no, not I,” huffed Abedeyan, handing his finished bowl and spoon to a servant.

  Lady Nihan merely looked up in stubborn pride or jilted anguish. Alfred wasn't sure which.

  “Lady Nihan, what's wrong? Tell me. I want your opinion.”

  She dismissed all the servants. They quickly left, and Alfred was stunned to see his table cleared of all the lunch items that were just there.

  “Milord, sire... Lord Dunther has honorably taken on the task of building the defenses of Grotham Keep – most honorably,” Lady Nihan said.

  Abedeyan remained seated at a distance, chewing on a leftover morsel from the soup. It was an herbal root he should have tossed out.

  “Continue,” Alfred nodded.

  “Well, he, as you know, is strong...”

  “Stubborn, obstinate, bull headed, and I'd go as far as to say endangering!” Abedeyan finally blurted out.

  Lady Nihan gasped.

  “Endangering? How?” Alfred perked up.

  Lady Nihan glared at Abedeyan. “Steward, please!”

  “Shh...shhh..shh...” Alfred rudely shushed her.

  Abedeyan stood. “He has taken on doing whatever he wishes. He disbanded the children! He has pushed out Captain Hedor and his men. He has brought in them foreigners, who we do not know and, I dare say, we do not trust!”

  “A whole army of them!” Lady Nihan said.

  Alfred could definitely see their point. “Wait! He disbanded the children? Loranna's archers and Cory's spearboys?”

  “Aye, he's done that and even arrested Derhman, Cory's father, for making a fuss about it!” Abedeyan choked on the words.

  “Arrested Derhman?! Where?”

  “It's okay, milord, Abedeyan hadn't finished. Derhman is fine and back at his farm. It was just a cooling off arrest. And all has transpired peacefully.”

  “Peacefully? No telling with all those foreigners here within our very walls!” Abedeyan said, folding his arms.

  “There are more strangers on the castle grounds then – us!” Lady Nihan said.

  “All Lord Dunther's doing,” said Abedeyan.

  “And what Lord Dunther is doing is to protect us all from the woes of the world!” yelled a dark figure at the other end of the hall.

  Abedeyan and Lady Nihan gasped and backed away.

  The figure approached in knightly armour. The armour was not full steel as one might picture – the kind that fits like a sleek android skin. The armour of knights of old was merely a slight upgrade to what regular soldiers wore. This armour, worn by the dark figure, was well fitted and provided good protection. It was made of the dark leather and goblin pieces with which Alfred was familiar. After all, upon his request, and much to the distaste of all around him including the blacksmiths, he persuaded them to use goblin steel. There was so much of it now that they could dress an army twice the size of the one they had.

  The leather, already a dark brown, became darker because of the charcoal used on the goblin steel. Goblin steel was not polished to look great, as these beastly creatures didn’t care about looks. The armour was used straight from the fire to strapping, thrown immediately onto their dirty, wrinkly green bodies. Who knows how dark or light green goblins really are? Once that armour was fastened to them, it stained them ash-black for good. Broggia and Boggin tried to polish it before using it, but the coal dust was embedded throughout.

  It was young Sir Murith standing before them, his visage angry and perceptive. He looked at Lady Nihan and Abedeyan with dagger eyes.

  “King Alfred,” he said coldly, “it has been awhile since your sorceress departure.”

  “I'm sorry, Sir Murith. As king, I should be here.”

  “Lord Dunther has been doing what others have not or do not have the ability or knowledge to do. He has been preparing.” Sir Murith seemed slightly older and more controlled than his former self.

  “May I see him now?” Alfred asked.

  Sir Murith stood like a dark cold statue. Lady Nihan huffed at his icy demeanor. Abedeyan shook with controlled anger.

  “Lord Dunther is extremely busy doing his duty,” Sir Murith finally said.

  King Alfred stood up saying, “I command it.”

  Lady Nihan and Abedeyan were pleasantly surprised at the outburst while fearing Sir Murith's response.

  “Well then, if the king commands, I obey.” Sir Murith bowed and turned to lead the way. Alfred followed.

  As they exited the main hall into the bright afternoon sun, Lord Tahnwhithe was nearby. He was dealing with merchants about fabrics. He bowed with a smile to Alfred as they passed northeast to the corner tower.

  Along the way, Alfred saw many workers eating dried bread and a cup of some sort of broth. They looked tired and haggard. They sat about in shaded areas under unfinished wood scaffolding. It was their lunch time. Alfred smiled, but none returned his kind attention. Most looked oddly at the knight leading a common looking boy.

  Behind them, Sir Gorham entered the Keep’s grounds with a handful of men. He rode on a strange stout horse. These were short and squat compared to the larger galloping horses of knights. Alfred turned and recognized them as farm animals. He wondered
why Gorham rode one, but he forgot all about this as Gorham neared.

  Alfred waved from behind Sir Murith. Sir Gorham, wearing his helm, did not seem to notice him. His small group of similarly armoured men marched by, quickly settling in the area.

  “Lord Murith?” Alfred hastened to his side.

  “I am not a lord, King Alfred.”

  “Oh sorry, Sir Murith. Where did all these men come from? They all look similar and different than, well, us?”

  “These are men from the Silver Coast. They are mercenaries.”

  “Silver Coast? Where's that?”

  “Along the coast of Telehistine and the Kingdom of the Merchantlords.”

  “So we pay them?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I am not aware of the details. Lord Dunther would be the one to consult.”

  “Okay, okay, sure, sure.”

  Alfred did not recall them having that much money, especially for the number of mercenaries he had seen that day. He was also concerned, as they easily outnumbered all the folk that first inhabited the Keep when they defeated the ratkins and goblins. Their allegiance to him, to the Keep, to the land and to the people was questionable.

  He noticed too that the workers were of similar appearance. They had darker hair and were more rugged looking than the farm folk from around here. They didn't look menacing. Alfred just wondered whether in these dark times, when evil came again, would these people stand or flee?

  Alfred and Murith passed through several groups of sitting workers and then the small group lead by Sir Gorham. His men were unbuckling their horses and armour. Several soldiers and servants were helping them.

  Sir Murith put his hand up to stop Alfred. “Wait here.”

  Alfred was taken aback by this action, as if he were just a messenger or visitor.

  Sir Murith left Alfred and walked to Gorham, who was unfastening his horse’s bridle and reins. They must have been on patrol in the land. When Sir Murith spoke into Sir Gorham's ear, Gorham turned to see the young king.

  Alfred was dismayed that Gorham showed little reaction to his return. He nodded slightly at Murith's words and turned to his work of carrying his gear into the northeast tower garrison. Many soldiers were there. Sir Murith made Alfred wait in this area, which was narrow compared to the main courtyard and entrance in the southern area.