The Legacy of Skur: Volume One

by L. F. Falconer

“I think he meant you are not to threaten me or try to plant a baby in me.”

  “Plant a baby?” He began to laugh in his cold, mirthless way before shooting me a smirk. “You are so naïve it’s almost pathetic.”

  I had no idea what he meant by that, but I certainly didn’t like his condescending tone.

  “Tell me, Elva, do you know how to handle a horse?”

  “I have ridden, but I’ve never been in control.”

  “Then it’s high time you learned.” He swung himself back into the saddle, reaching his warty hand down to help me up.

  Did I dare go? Oh, I wanted to ride. I loved to ride. And I wanted to learn. I would need this skill too, as a warrior.

  “You won’t try to test my strength again, will you?”

  He sneered. “I’m not about to waste a day coming out here without teaching you a lesson. Come on.”

  I didn’t entirely trust him, he was still scarlet and my Telling grumbled, but took his hand and he hoisted me up, positioning me before him in the saddle. Bringing his hands around, he placed the reins into mine, keeping my hands firmly within his, and whipped the horse forward.

  “You have to show the animal who’s in control,” Rudne said, jerking the reins to the left, causing the horse to turn. “Force is the only thing they understand.”

  I had not been on a horse for many years, and I couldn’t recall Papa or Cuen or the Chief Warden of Lorane having ever treating their mounts as severely as Rudne was treating his.

  “Let me do it,” I told him, feeling pity for the animal.

  He released my hands then, leaving the reins totally in my control, but I was now unable to concentrate on my task as Rudne’s hands, free of the reins, slipped under my robe and began rubbing at my thighs.

  “Stop it, Rudne, or I will see to it that Skile never removes your warts.”

  “Don’t you dare threaten me,” he growled through my cap against my ear. Then he snatched the reins from my hands and whipped the horse to a gallop.

  Oh, I could have truly enjoyed this ride had it not been for my horrid companion.

  “You ride like a natural-born horseman,” he told me as we raced across the wold, and despite my loathing, his words filled me with pride.

  We rode for miles before Rudne veered the steed off the beaten path for a copse of wychelms through which trickled a vagrant brook. He slid off the horse when he brought it to a halt, and tied it securely to a tree.

  From the distance, the copse had looked inviting. From within, it was gloomy and dim. The brook originated amid several large, charcoal-colored boulders in a gurgling murmur from some underground source, leaving the ground around it spongy and damp. Several sun-bleached rampikes lingered among the living trees, gray-green moss draped from their branches like unkempt cobwebs.

  “Get down,” Rudne said. “Let the horse rest.”

  I didn’t care for this place. It gave me a bad feeling. But how could I deny the poor horse the opportunity to rest? Slowly, I dismounted.

  His brow knitted, Rudne glared at me. “You told that wizard what I did, didn’t you?”

  “He asked, and I told him.”

  The back of Rudne’s hand slapped my face, causing me to stumble.

  “What happens between you and me is none of his bloody business,” Rudne roared, grabbing onto my hair and forcing me back to my feet. “And you’d better pray he can undo this spell you had him put on me.”

  Pinning my arms behind me, he forced me to walk before him, pushing me toward the black boulders. “I wasn’t trying to plant a baby in you the last time, wench, but today I will. I’ll plant a warty little baby inside you and you will only have yourself to blame when you give birth to a bloody toad!”

  He shoved my face against the boulder, keeping my arms pinned useless and secure behind my back. “You better get used to it, Elva, because I’ll knock you anytime I want and you won’t fight and you won’t use magic against me or tell that stinking wizard, because if you do, I’ll throw your precious Gwin into the river and we’ll just see how fast a worm can drown.”

  The threat chilled my very bones and I did not fight. I endured as he planted his wart-laden seed inside me and when he was through, he left me in the dismal copse. I did not reach home until nightfall, and I dared make no mention to Skile what had happened.

  There would be no child. My cycle did come when it was due and I was so grateful that I sang praises to it instead of cursing it as usual. Rudne had failed. He was not such an efficacious man after all.

  When the flowers began to bloom in the wold, Rudne returned. All but three of the warts had disappeared, and I assumed Skile had left those to serve as a warning, for all the good that warning did. He presented me with the rigging of a boy, complete with a belt for my sword. I saved the boy-clothes for practice with Rudne, preferring my robe in between times. Rudne only forced himself inside me twice more throughout that summer; most of our time was spent in strict training.

  I missed Gwin. Why did he not want to come anymore? If he didn’t want to come with Rudne, surely he could come on his own. Hopefully he was safe from the river, for I kept compliant with Rudne’s demands.

  Sometimes I hated Gwin for having teased me with his affections, but mostly I only felt sorrow and I hated myself for having kissed him. How could I have been so foolish? What had made me think he would truly want a beast such as me? Even Mama and Papa hadn’t wanted me. Only another beast would ever want me. A beast like Rudne. Not a man as good of heart and as sweet as Gwin. I was far too horrid for any good man to want.

  My heart ached. I could not eat. I could not sleep. And I spent days in sheer neglect, just sitting upon the rocks at the lakeshore, refusing to listen to the wind or the waves or the stones beneath me, hearing only the echo of Gwin’s song.

  I had truly believed he had cared. What a fool I was. He had abandoned me, just like everyone else. Was he still in Lorane, or had he gone wandering away without me? Was he in some far off city, singing his songs for some other girl? Some normal girl? Some girl who didn’t want to kill? He was probably singing her a sweet, enchanting song, making her heart swoon while I was left alone and cold to languish upon the wold. Alone with Rudne and his cruel, twisted ways. Alone with my despair and the ever-growing fire of darkness within my soul.

  It was late autumn, with a threat of rain in the grayed sky above when I spied Rudne riding across the wold, and at first I thought Gwin was with him, for there were two horses instead of one. But my hopes vanished when I realized the horse behind Rudne’s was riderless.

  He smiled when he approached and motioned to the shaggy, pewter-gray pony behind him.

  “Do you like him?” he asked, dismounting.

  I was flabbergasted, crossing my hands over my chest. “For me?” Oh, my very own horse. And one my own size.

  “Perhaps,” Rudne said with a lurid smirk. “A warrior needs a horse. But it will cost you.”

  I glared at him. “What will it cost?”

  He cupped his chin in his hand and his eyebrows perked above glinting golden eyes. “Get on your knees and open your mouth.”

  Oh the loathsome cur! Vile, wretched snake! He knew I needed this horse. He knew I couldn’t refuse it.

  I stroked the gray pony’s forelock, gazing into its deep, brown eyes, listening to its soul. It had been ill-treated, but it had spirit and sensed no threat from me. It was an animal that was eager to please. It would serve me well. But was it worth the cost?

  Taking a deep breath, I turned around and growled, “I despise you, Rudne,” dropping to my knees.

  7

  Partings

  I named the pony Storm, and as the winter season progressed, a bond of friendship was forged between us. I treated the animal with respect and saw to its welfare. Storm, in return, was ready and willing to obey my wishes. Although he was only half the size of the average charger, he was sure-footed and had heart, and we would race like the wind across the wold and back again.

  I t
ried, to no avail, to banish Gwin from my thoughts. How he haunted me! I longed to climb upon Storm and race to Lorane to seek him out, but quelled the urge. There was only one reason to find him anymore, and that was the hilt of my father’s sword. If he still had it. It was probably gone forever. I would never see it, or Gwin again. Why had I ever trusted him? I should have asked for its return long ago. Now it was gone and Gwin was gone and I had nothing left but my anger, my pain, and Rudne.

  When Rudne returned in the spring, he brought a saddle for Storm, but I informed him I had no use for it when he told me its cost was the same as I’d paid for the pony.

  “Have it your way,” he grumbled. “I’ve never seen such a stubborn wench in all my days. If you hate me because you think I’ve been too hard on you, realize that it was for your own bloody good. I’ve only been trying to prepare you. A warrior’s life is hard and demanding. Few of us will ever grow old.”

  “I cannot deny that you’ve been a good teacher in the ways of the sword, Rudne. But I can’t say all your lessons were necessary.”

  “Get used to it, Elva. You’ll receive that kind of treatment, and worse, for the rest of your life.”

  “Not if I can stop it.”

  He grabbed hold of my chin, forcing my face sideways. “To get you into the Service, you’ll need to appear as a man,” he said, letting go of my face. “You’ve done well with your muscles, but your face is too smooth. It’s as hairless as your bloody quim. It’s too bad you don’t have a few whiskers.” He poked at my breasts. “And you’ll have to hide those, somehow. Even beneath your jerkin, those things are obvious.”

  I lurched away.

  “And get rid of that stupid, raggedy cap,” he snarled. “I don’t know why you always insist on wearing it. And cut your hair. You look like a girl.”

  “I am a girl.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” he chuckled. “And I quite enjoy it on occasion. But no one else must know what you are.”

  I wouldn’t tell him that I didn’t plan on staying in the King’s Service. I only needed access to the dragonslayer. But, if I needed to look like a boy to do so, so be it. “I can try to look like a man,” I told him. “But I will not cut my hair. Its length is a symbol of status among us wizards.”

  “Do your best, Elva. It’s going to be hard enough to get you accepted as it is, being so small. I won’t be coming out this way again. On the day after the next full moon, we will be in Fead for our induction. On the night of the full moon, you and I and four others will rally on the field near the bridge at Lorane so that at sunrise we can all ride together to Fead. I expect you to be there. If you fail to arrive, at least by dawn, we will leave without you and you can say farewell to becoming a warrior. You won’t be able to do it on your own. Because of your size, you’ll need my uncle’s influence to get accepted.”

  The moon was already approaching its first quarter phase. All my years of preparation was nearing an end—the time for action at hand.

  “Are you certain you don’t want the saddle?” Rudne asked as he prepared to depart. “I’ll make it quick.”

  Oh, I just wanted to gag. Perhaps I should let him stick that thing in my mouth again, then I could bite it off and be forever done with it. But now was not the time.

  “Begone, Rudne. You disgust me.”

  He laughed as he mounted his horse. “I don’t really need your permission, you know. You do belong to me.”

  Not for much longer, I thought with grim satisfaction.

  “I’ll see you on the full moon, Elva,” he called as he spurred the bay away.

  From the shelves of Skile’s apothecaries, I pulled out a pouch of hooves scavenged from the dead of the woods and set several into a pot to boil upon the fire. While the hooves cooked, I fashioned a hood from scrap leather and sewed it onto my jerkin. If I couldn’t wear my cap, at least the hood would help. If I kept my hair tied back and covered my head with the hood, my ears should stay out of sight.

  Then, taking a long strip of linen, I wrapped it tight about my chest, squashing my breasts down as flat as I could, securing the sash with a knot beneath my arm. I donned my shirt, jerkin, and trousers before I went outside to stroke some hairs off Storm’s forehead. I returned to the house, where I dipped one end of the hairs into the sticky goo from the boiled hooves before meticulously applying them to my upper lip and chin. I didn’t want to overdo it—a few was all I would need. I wasn’t sure how long they might hold, but I would give them a test.

  I laced up my boots, fastened my sword belt and went in search of Skile. Spying him on the far side of the lake, I hoisted myself onto the back of Storm and rode out to meet him.

  “How do I look?” I asked, bringing the pony beside him.

  Skile gazed up at me and shook his head. “You look like a young man. Don’t you like being a girl, Elva?”

  I rode alongside him as he strolled upon the beach. “I have no problem with my womanhood, Skile. In fact, I might even like to marry and have children someday. But I’m afraid the time has come that I must leave you and the wold. I have a mission to complete and in order to do so, for a time, I must appear to be a man. Do you think I will pass?”

  “If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t suspect you were a girl. Except perhaps your voice. It could be a bit deeper.”

  “Is this better?” I asked, lowering my voice.

  “You sound a bit strained.”

  I tried again. “How about now?”

  He smiled. “Perhaps you’d better try to avoid speaking.”

  “There will be times I must speak. It cannot be avoided entirely.”

  “Can you tell me why you must do this? It is more than just wanting to be like your father.”

  I knew he would not approve. But he would not stop me, either. “I must go and face the man who betrayed me when I was a child, Skile.” I would tell him no more. He did not need to know.

  “Your uncle?”

  I nodded.

  “And you must be a man to do this?”

  “I must be a man to be a warrior, and to be a warrior is the easiest way to gain admittance to him, for he is a man of power. Besides, I have always dreamed of being a warrior, Skile. You know that. And I will be the first woman to become one. You have helped me become a wizard and for that I am truly grateful. But this, too, I must do.”

  “You would have become a wizard without my help. You already had the power.”

  “But I didn’t know how to use it. I am trying to thank you, Skile. You’ve been like a father to me. It will be hard to leave you, even though I must.”

  “When will you go?”

  “I must be in Lorane on the full moon.”

  “This man you go to face, Elva. What do you intend to do once you meet him?”

  I could not tell him.

  “Do you hope to hurt your uncle? Do you intend to transfer the pain he caused you back onto himself?”

  How did Skile know this? How did he know what I wanted?

  “Do not think I have taught you everything there is to know, my sad, restless sprite,” Skile continued. “There is always something more to learn. But the most important thing you will ever learn is how to listen to your heart. You have listened and learned from the world around you. It is time you begin to listen and learn from yourself. Listen to your true heart, not the anger that cloaks it. And be aware, Elva, that power is a devious servant. It begs to be abused. And for one who is not wary, it will consume its master as swiftly as the breath of a dragon. Don’t let your power become a dragon, for that dragon has a name. It calls itself Rage, and it feeds on despair. Don’t set yourself aflame.”

  It was difficult to leave Skile. He had been good to me and my affection for the old man ran deeper than I thought. I had come to love the stone house and the forest and the lake. I would miss the wold. But the moon was coming to fullness and I was driven by a passion to fulfill my life’s quest. The day of reckoning was near and nothing was going to stop me now.

  Th
e whiskers on my face proved to hold well for several days as long as they didn’t get wet. I reapplied a fresh batch in the dawn, keeping enough glue for several more applications within a vial inside the pouch that dangled from my belt. Hopefully I wouldn’t need more than that.

  After saying my saddened farewells to Skile, I rode swiftly across the undulating wold, for I wanted to reach Lorane early. There was something I had to do before joining Rudne and the others at the river. I had to try to find Gwin.

  It was midday when I reached Lorane. It had been so long ago that I was here, and then for such a short time, the streets were unfamiliar. Could I find the hunter’s house again? Would Gwin still be here?

  Upon reaching the marketplace, I brought Storm to a halt, peering all about. I could not remember which direction to go. Oh, I could wander these wretched streets all day and still be lost. But I had to find Gwin. I had to know the truth, even if it was horrible.

  As I wound my way through the crowd, a vision met my eyes that tore through my heart like a white-hot knife. Squatting beside the gray stone wall of the bakehouse sat a ragged beggar, so very barely blue. His blonde hair was long and greasy, his welted, scabby skin caked with grime. Clothes were mere filthy tatters, and his unlaced trousers were held up only by two leather straps over his shoulders. He had no hands at all, one arm gone entirely, the other ending in a stump just below his elbow, and the pitiful creature cried to the market patrons for alms.

  The strength flooded out of me. I slid off Storm and rushed forward. “Gwin?” I gasped, kneeling to the ground. “Gwin, is it you?”

  He stared blankly at me momentarily before the light of recognition glimmered in his dull eyes. “Elva?”

  I took his dirty face into my hands. “Yes, Gwin. It is me. But what has become of you?”

  He recoiled from my touch, shrinking back against the wall. “Go away, Elva. Please. Just go away. Leave me be.”

  “I will not go away.” I didn’t care if he thought me a hideous beast or not. No longer would I allow him to shun me. The tears refused to stay inside my eyes. “What happened to you? What happened to your hand?”