“Yeah, tell us a bed time story, Dad,” said the Captain, smirking. Haggart sighed.
“Gorohan and Gorohim were brothers. They lived in a land far east of here where everything was twice as big as it should be. Trees were enormous, pigs were the size of horses, horses were the size of... well, they were really big. But Gorohan and Gorohim weren't big at all. In fact, they were dwarves, which in their land was VERY unusual.” Haggart suddenly realised he was talking like he had done when John was only young. This, he remembered, had been his favourite story.
“Gorohan and Gorohim hated being small. The animals laughed at them. Their friends threw them around and made fun of them. They were very sad. Until one day they met a Summoner on the road, passing through their village. He was enormous too, mind, and the brothers didn't want to be seen by him in case the Summoner picked on them too. So they hid in two milk buckets, which to them were huge, big enough to live in. The Summoner, walking past, noticed two heads poking out of the buckets and stopped. 'What are you doing in there?' he called, but Gorohan and Gorohim wouldn't answer. They were too scared. The Summoner called again, 'boys, why are you hiding in there?'
'We're scared of you,' they cried.
'Scared?'
'We are small and you are big' they replied. The Summoner laughed and with a flicker of his wrists, transformed the dwarf brothers into towering giants. Amazed at his power, Gorohan and Gorohim asked how he did it. The Summoner, wiser than most of his kind, explained: 'The power is not to be taken lightly, boys. Once big you cannot return to your old size, there is no going back'
'We don't care' they said.
'If you get too big, people will be scared of you'
'We don't care' they said again.
'If you make people fear you, you will be very lonely'
'We don't care' they chimed again.”
John mouthed the words 'we don't care' as he said them.
“The Summoner continued: 'If I learn that you have abused this power when I return in a year, I will make you bigger than the biggest mountains - and as silent and still as them too!'
'We don't care' they said one final time. And the Summoner showed them how it was done before leaving for the next village. As he was leaving, he warned them a final time about what would happen if he found out they'd abused his gift. Still they cried,”
“We don't care,” sang Lorrie, laughing.
“Gorohan and Gorohim walked around their village showing everyone how big they were. The Summoner had made them as large as everyone else, but after a few days they were no longer satisfied. They wanted to be bigger than the others and so, during the night, they did what the Summoner had shown them. The following day the people marvelled at how they had grown. A week passed and people stopped noticing them any more. Gorohan and Gorohim weren't satisfied again and so, later that night, they did what the Summoner had shown them. The following day, no one even noticed they'd grown. And the day after that. And the next day, until a week later when they towered above the tallest buildings in the village. Still, no one cared to mention. In fact, Gorohan and Gorohim soon noticed that their friends wouldn't play with them any more. Their family were scared to talk to them. People avoided them in the village. So they grew even bigger that same night. And in the morning they began bossing people around. All the people who'd picked on them for being so small were thrown out of the village. The tore the roof off the Mayor's house and sat down on his chair, crushing it into kindling. They ruled their village harshly and demanded taxes of meat to feed them and mead to quench their thirst.”
“Then what happened?” asked Lorrie.
“The Summoner returned, as promised, a year later. He saw Gorohan and Gorohim, how big they were and how evil their rule was. He said 'You have abused the gift I had given to you. Now I will carry out the punishment I promised.'
'Go away old man' they boomed. 'You can't hurt us, you're too small.' But the Summoner mocked them until they began to chase him, away from the village and into the plains. When they were far enough away, he stopped and said 'here you shall stand - as big as you can possibly be, but as silent and unmoving as stone.' With a flicker of his wrist, Gorohan and Gorohim fell onto their backsides opposite each other, still as a statue. Their final words as the Summoner walked away were...”
“We don't care,” said John and Lorrie simultaneously.
As they finished the words, the silence quickly swept in again, broken only by the crackling of the logs on the fire.
“So what was the point of the story?” asked Talbert.
“Don't annoy Summoners?” said Haggart, laughing.
“That which is most desired can never satisfy, ultimately,” said John. “At least, that's what I took from it.”
Proudly, Haggart smiled at his son.
“The brothers should have been content with being who they were. They weren't, instead they sought to be equal with those around them, not realising that in fact they wanted to be better than them. In the end, their greed destroyed them,” said Haggart.
“But the Summoner was partly to blame - he was wise enough to know they'd abuse the power,” said Lorrie.
“He gave them the choice they never had. It would either make them or break them. They could have stopped at any point, but instead they chose greed and power over happiness. It's a message to anyone who tries to control others - true kindness is to free people to choose their own fate, not dictate it for them.”
“That's deep,” said Talbert, still giggling to himself. “It's only a bloody children's story.”
“One you might be wise to ponder,” Haggart replied.
5.
“The age-old custom of single combat with your enemy's Champion to avert further bloodshed appears to be slipping into the annals of history. In the last Gorm uprising the mountainous Knight, Ceraven, was pelted with stones when he marched out from his fortress at the end of the war. Had his offer been received by more honourable soldiery, then perhaps the six thousand men who died on those walls might have lived to see it end.”
- The Council's report on the Gorm Uprising
They left the mountains the following day. The sky was clear but the cold remained, turning the air crisp and fresh but still it nipped at their faces. The descent was simple, but at the foot of Gorohim they came to the river Sarn which was swollen from the rains. The bridge, half a mile to the west, was gone - destroyed in the last flood.
“Now what?” asked John.
“Take Lorrie and check up stream,” said the Captain. “Myself and Haggart will check the other way. Talbert, wait here with the packs until we return.”
Haggart rode behind the Captain as they followed the river east, snaking its way around the toes of Gorohim and dropping down, past the rapids, into the valley below.
“Nothing,” said the Captain, turning his horse. They set off back and Haggart realised there was smoke rising over the brow on the other side of the river.
“What's that?” he asked.
“The next village is Sarn-den. It looks to be burning!”
“We need to find a way across - quickly!”
They said as much to Talbert who was keen to cross as they were. John and Lorrie returned a few moments later.
“Up here - the river narrows before a bend. We might be able to make it,” said John who kicked his horse into a canter heading back the way they'd come. At the crossing he went first, his mount deftly picking its way through the stones and standing fast against the currant. Lorrie went next, her horse leaping out of the water for the last few feet. Talbert led the pack horse across, followed by the Captain and finally Haggart with the agility of the skilled horseman that he was. They sped up the sloping ground kicking clods of dirt into the air as the stench of burning wood and flesh hit them.
“Raiders,” said the Captain whose voice was suddenly drowned out by the screams of the villagers and the clatter of steel on steel as they crested the slope. “Talbert, stay with Lorrie. John, to the left o
n the rise, Haggart with me.”
Talbert muttered something but it was lost in the noise. Haggart jumped down from his horse and quickly unfastened his saddle bags and let them drop to the floor. In a few moments he'd put on his armour and helm and was back on the horse and riding alongside the Captain.
“Circle around and come from the east,” said the Captain. “I'll meet you in the middle.”
Haggart wheeled the horse to the right, leaping over a fallen lean-to and spurred the animal faster around a burning barn. As he hit the turn he saw someone, there was a flash of pink skin in the corner of his vision and he changed course, bearing down on the rapist before he had time to realise what was happening. His sword cut through the air and came down on him in a blur, slicing deeply into his chest with a spray of blood and fingers where he'd attempted to fend off the strike with a feeble hand.
He sped on, seeing that the Captain was already ahead of him on the main pathway into the village. When he reached half-way he turned and charged down two more fighting over a young woman whose clothes hung off her in tattered shreds. The first was crushed under the horse, the second had time to draw his sword and swing for him. Haggart had no room to turn but he felt something in the air suddenly whip past his ear and the raider collapsed with an arrow embedded in his neck.
“Go right!” yelled the Captain as they met in the middle of the village. Haggart pulled on the reins, feeling the wind cool his sweating brow through the slits in his helmet and he saw that at the end of the path a defensive line was being formed.. They rallied behind their leader - a short, fat man who was struggling to close a clasp on his stolen armour that bore the sigil of the Council City Guard. Haggart adjusted the straps of his shield and drove his mount forward, leaning into the wind and settling into the saddle with the muscle memory of twenty years of cavalry warfare. With a roar he charged the line, finding its weak spot and hacking the scalp from the nearest raider in an arc of blood, bone and brain-matter. He sped onwards and turned as the Captain passed him to charge the rear of the line. His axe found its target, cleaving the skull of their leader in two and causing the remaining few to break ranks and run for it. Haggart gave chase immediately, killing two and maiming another before returning to the Captain who had called John down from his vantage point on the ridge.
“Building by building, let's make sure they're dead. I'll take the left, Haggart, you take the right. John, keep an eye out here with the horses, kill anything that tries to escape.”
“Yes, Captain,” he replied.
Haggart, sweating and sore but still alive with the thrill of battle, cleared each building as quickly as he could. He found many of the villagers hiding inside and they screamed when they saw him silhouetted in the doorway, his sword dripping with blood. In the next two huts he found nothing but bloody corpses and looted rooms but in the last, a white-washed two-storey house, the rest of the village children were being protected by the Farmer and his wife.
“Come any closer and we'll butcher you, you scum!” he yelled when Haggart managed to force the door open.
“I'm no raider,” he said, taking off his helmet. “We saw the fires and came to help. Are there any more?”
“I don't know,” the Farmer replied. “We've been hiding the little ones in here the whole time. It was the only thing I could think to do.”
“You've done well. Me and my friend are clearing out the last of them. Their leader is dead. Wait here until I return.”
Haggart left them, closing the door behind him and meeting the Captain on the pathway.
“Anything?” he asked.
“The Farmer and his wife are in there with as many children as they could save. There are a few more in that house there. The rest are dead. You?”
“Nothing but meat in those.” A maimed raider was crawling across the muddy ground, moaning and bleeding heavily from his cloven shoulder. The Captain strode over to him and placed his boot on his back, pushing him deeper into the bog.
“Rapists and murderers,” he cried. “Thieves and scum. Not even fit to burn lest the rest of us breath your foul stink.” The wounded man squirmed under his foot, trying to claw air into his lungs. Haggart plunged his sword into the back of his neck and he went still.
“What did you do that for?” asked the Captain. “Mercy is too good to be wasted on them.”
“I have no time for suffering - my own or another’s. There is enough evil in the world without adding to it. Let's...”
A scream tore through the silence of the village and his heart froze.
“Lorrie!”
Her horse was rearing when they found her. One of the raiders was wrestling with the animal's reins trying to rip them out of Lorrie's hands and she was swinging her sword wildly but ineffectively. He managed to tear them from her and he yanked the horse downwards, grabbing her arms and pulling her off the animal. She hit the ground hard and the air was knocked out of her lungs. Seeing his chance he hitched up her robe and pinned her to the floor. John crested the hill and raised his bow, planting his first arrow in his shoulder whilst he ran and the force was enough to send him sprawling across the ground. John's second arrow pierced his skull and left him twitching helplessly where he lay.
“Lorrie - where's Talbert?” cried Haggart as John swept her up in his arms. She was weeping hysterically, unable to answer. There was no need - he came swaggering along the road, his crossbow on his shoulder, laughing.
“I got one!” he said.
Haggart ran to him, launching his fist into his stomach. Talbert doubled over and vomited.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled. “Why did you leave her alone?”
“I...”
Haggart, seething with rage, came back to Lorrie who was sobbing into John's shoulder. The Captain had retrieved her horse but the one with their equipment was gone.
“Find it,” barked Haggart as Talbert got unsteadily back on his feet. “Or your life won't be worth living.”
He got his breath back and turned away in search of the horse, his face still a livid red colour.
“Let's head back and see if these people need any more help,” said the Captain. Haggart, still boiling with anger, managed to nod and led his own sweating mount behind him. When they returned, the survivors were just starting to gather in the centre, already picking through the rubble for their belongings or trying to put out the fires that destroyed them. The Captain approached the Farmer who looked pale and weary as he stared at the devastation.
“Is that all of them?” he asked nervously. “Are they dead?”
“We think so,” replied the Captain. “Though it would be wise to be on your guard. Do you have any idea where they came from?”
“One of my farm hands says he's seen them before, gathering at some caves to the east. You've done more than enough for us already, we'll deal with them,” the Farmer said, though it was clear that such a task was beyond them.
“We'll go and look,” said Haggart, putting his helmet back on. “You've suffered enough today.”
“Aye, we will,” agreed the Captain. “In the mean while, two of our friends will deal with the dead and help you bury your own.”
“Thank you, thank you so much. If you hadn't been passing by...” The Farmer began to sob and the Captain put a gentle hand on his shoulder and assured him it would be okay.
“Search the raiders,” he said to the others. “Pile up their gear in the middle of the village and give these people the first choice. After that take anything you think is valuable to us, then burn the bodies outside the village and help them bury their own. Understood?”
“Aye,” said John. Lorrie was calmer now but refused to let go of John for the time being. Haggart didn't think it was a bad thing. Then they led their horses back towards the path and turned them eastwards, feeling their sweat cool upon their backs as their breathing calmed a little.
“Raiders and bandits. Under the King this would have been dealt with severely,” said the Cap
tain. “This Council has a lot to answer for, leaving these people defenceless and their borders unchecked. Remind me, Haggart, what did we fight for again?”
“It does make you think, doesn't it? But the older I get the more I realise that it's just a great big wheel that goes round and round. Nothing really changes. Remember how we took back Barahad one year only to hand it back during peace talks the year after?”
“Aye, I remember that one,” said the Captain, laughing. “Didn't we take it back again the year after?”
“We certainly did.”
“We rode in from the west and cut off their rearguard. Twice if I recall.”
“General Kazak led the infantry charge the first time, remember? Grizzled man with grey hair and a bald patch. Always used to twitch when he gave commands.”
“That's the one.”
“The first time we rode in hard, struck their rear lines and harassed their reinforcements until they pulled out.”
“The second,” said the Captain, gesturing with his fist, “we punched straight through their pikemen before they had chance to form ranks. We were behind that hill for most of the battle. What a stupid place to put a fort. No killing grounds and too many places for us to hide in, no wonder it kept changing hands.”
“The good old days, eh?” said Haggart.
“The memory always tastes better than the deed I say.”
Their horses stepped deftly over a patch of broken wall and began to climb a long sloping hill that led up to the mouths of the caves that were hidden in the shadow cast by the setting sun.
“Going back to what you were saying, I've heard that they're even demolishing the old Forts and outposts now, using the bricks to build better housing. Back in the old days those were places to flee to in danger. Now where will these people go? They're isolated, cut off from the help they need. Any common raider will probably love the Council now, their life is so much easier.”
“Well, there'll be a few less of them to worry about in a minute. Look up there,” said the Captain, pointing upwards.
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