The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One

by Aiden L Turner

  Godwin looked upon his king, a man he had known since childhood, and saw not the time-ravaged man he saw last at the king’s castle the summer before, but instead, a man stronger and more vigorous than he had been in his twenties. He replied as the king had commanded, honestly. ‘I do see, sire, I truly do. I shall follow you through this journey, to whatever end.’

  They continued walking at a slow pace; the king leading them inside towards the lord’s council room. The king took his place at the head of a large oak table easily able to sit fifty men, although apart from the king and the lord only Lord Godwin’s son and a young land baron by the name of Oswald were in the council hall. Both men bowed before their king who stated matter-of-factly, ‘You have a man in your custody, a knight-captain of the brotherhood by the name of Colburn. Bring him to me.’ Young Goodwin and Oswald both made to leave upon the king’s instruction when the king’s voice stopped them. ‘Oswald, take yourself to my physician, he will fix that mouth of yours, for I have work for men like you.’

  When they were alone, the king nodded his ascent for Godwin to take a seat and outlined the expedition they were about to embark on. ‘Your part in this, my Lord, will be of vital import. You will scourge these lands of all who are able to serve. We shall need carpenters, blacksmiths, sail makers and slaves to row my galleys. A vast fleet we shall build and sail it further than ever before.’

  ‘My king will lead upon this dangerous quest?’ asked Godwin, with open worry upon his face.

  ‘No. My place is here. My presence is needed in the kingdom, yet royal blood will lead. My son by adoption and natural nephew Jacob will lead, although I shall be taking measures to ensure that it is my will done, and not that of another.’

  Colburn was half carried into the chamber roughly by two men dressed in the black of the king’s law keepers, led by the Godwin the Younger. His wounds, although treated by the physicians, still showed blood through the bandages. He fell to his knees as the ill-tempered guards released their grip on him.

  Kane turned on his men of law with furious rage. ‘How dare you!’ He bellowed as he stood, ‘This is an anointed warrior of God, born in the image of He who is Greatest of them all. Protector of the northlands. Help him to the seat at the left of me and bring food and ale.’ The king placed a hand tenderly upon Colburn’s cheek as the guards more gently helped him to his feet. ‘You will tell me all, brave warrior. Do not hold back from me. Do not tell me the slightest untruth. Swear this to me Colburn, on your honour.’

  The dishevelled warrior, knight-captain in the Brotherhood of the Order of Light, anointed in the presence of Man and God stated softly and with a dispirit in his voice, ‘I have none, sire, I have failed my brothers.’

  From across the room, Godwin the Older said, ‘Do not be insolent Colburn! Your circumstance does not permit you any more disobedience.’ But he was silenced with a black look from the king. After Colburn was seated, he slumped back in the high-backed chair, weakened not just by battle and the events that led him to be here, but weakened to his very core. His spirit sagged as did his body.

  The king dismissed the servants immediately after they had brought in the pitchers of ale, serving cups, platters with fresh breads, cheeses and cuts of meat, and instead indicated that Godwin should pour them all cups of the cold frothing ale.

  ‘Take a drink with me, Colburn.’ The king said in an almost friendly manner, yet Colburn just stared at a point beyond the room in which they sat, lost in his personal suffering. The king’s tone changed abruptly, his manner becoming angry. ‘You would deny your king!’ His voice rose in barely controlled rage. ‘You will drink! And you will tell all! For I am your king, no matter all other things.’

  Colburn snapped out of his anguish, with an instinct to obey the man sat before him. ‘Apologies, my king.’ He took a large draft of ale and said, ‘I hereby swear in the name of He who is Greatest that I shall say to you no untruth, nor by conscious thought shall I not tell you all in completeness.’ Colburn told his tale, as he had sworn to tell. The Lord Godwin sat uncomfortably throughout, clearly wanting to remark on several occasions but remained silent, whilst the king looked enthralled by the tale and smiled when Colburn told of his striking Oswald. When all was told in its entirety, the king sat back thoughtfully, whilst Colburn sagged back once more into his chair.

  ‘Incredible’, the king said, with both excitement and awe written on his face. He turned to Godwin and said, ‘Would you not agree, my lord?’

  Godwin replied diplomatically, ‘It is indeed an incredible tale, sire. I cannot judge though whether his survival is good fortune or ill.’

  ‘It is the will of God, for He who is Greatest has come to me, Colburn, and He has told me with his own voice about Colburn “slow to burn”, for you will be my tool upon a great expedition I am launching, the greatest voyage the race of Man has ever embarked upon.’

  Godwin looked stricken as he said, ‘But sire, this man is condemned by law. His action, no matter the circumstance or manner, is high treason.’

  King Kane the Cruel turned his full rage upon the lord. ‘My word is law!’ He screamed into the lord’s face, spittle flying from his lips as Godwin retreated from the king’s anger. ‘My word is law!’ He repeated. ‘Dare to question it again and you will see the rope, my Lord Godwin!’

  ‘Apologies my king, I offer only council.’

  The king lost the volume in his voice but not the anger as he said, ‘Do not speak again, Godwin, unless I address you. Colburn, you will be my man from this day forth until death finally takes you. You will live and breathe at my whim. You will kill when and whomsoever I choose. If you fail but once you will feel fury like no other.’

  Colburn looked up, into the eyes of the most powerful man in the kingdom and stated quite simply. ‘I have nothing you can take.’

  The anger raised again in the king as he turned his venomous rage upon Colburn. ‘You will address me as king, sire or Your Highness. And you are wrong, Colburn, so very wrong. You have all to lose, for at my word I shall condemn all who followed you into that evil place. I would have their names forsaken, their honour removed, their family cast out from the brotherhood, to live as vermin. Do not think, because you lost your love and do not fear the rope, that I do not have power over you? You are mine, Colburn!’

  The king cocked his head to the side as if listening to an unknown voice, then smiled his sickly smile. ‘Yes,’ he said softly, as if to himself, then in a loud voice, ‘bring in the poet.’ The minstrel hobbled into the large hall, prodded and goaded by men in the king’s colours. His handsome face had been beaten to a pulp. His well-kept hair matted with blood and filth. He looked to Colburn appealingly but said nothing.

  ‘The man who would sing of the knight-captain and his band of heroic men-at-arms.’ The king said in a voice like that of a showman revealing a spectacle. ‘And he could still sing that song. And all that heard it would revere those brave warriors’ names.’ The king’s voice then became hard and cold. ‘Or he could die screaming for my entertainment. And your beloved men, who followed you so courageously, I would brand traitor, striped of rank, honour and place within your order. Choose.’

  Colburn looked thoughtful as a single tear ran down his cheek. So, he would not die a traitor’s death at the end of a rope but instead a slave, a dog on a leash ready to be released upon his master’s command to do dirty and evil work. Yet he could not abandon his men. Their family and their honour were his to uphold. He would not fail them again.

  ‘I shall be your lapdog, sire.’

  The king smirked, ‘As I knew you would, Colburn, for I was told, as I was told that you would be here.’

  The king turned back to Godwin. ‘See that our new wolfhound is bathed and clothed in my colours. He is no longer a man-at-arms in the brotherhood. Have him armed and armoured but before that get him a woman to fuck.’

  Colburn looked pained and said, ‘Your Highness is generous, but I have no need of a woman.’

 
; Rage returned as Kane screamed into Colburn’s face. ‘You will obey, dog. If I tell you to kill, you will kill. If I tell you to fuck, you will fuck! If you refuse me once the name of the men who followed you unto death will be forever cursed!’

  Kane’s voice lowered, but his features showed the pure contempt he had for Colburn. ‘Know this, dog. I despise you, you betrayed me, your king! I would like nothing more than watch my tortures pull you apart. Believe me, I would enjoy it as I would have enjoyed taking your bitch, had she lived. Yet you have a role to play and I have the leverage to ensure your obedience, do I not?’

  Colburn looked like a dog beaten by his cruel master until it finally broke. ‘You do my king, and I shall obey.’

  ‘Good, now leave me. The Lord Godwin and I have much to plan. You will be taken back to the castle and kept busy until I have need of you.’

  Colburn watched the woman rise from the sleeping pallet, and he admired her lithe form. He had taken her hesitatingly at first, overcome with guilt and a feeling of betrayal, yet as anger replaced guilt, he took her roughly, then forcefully. Her throat would bear the marks of his hands for days. He contemplated the turn of his circumstance and what he would now become. He had always been gentle to the women who came to his bed and only taken those who consented willingly. She was just as much a slave as he was now and therefore had not deserved his anger, but she had received it nonetheless and as he lay watching her wince as she dressed, he did not feel the shame he should. He felt nothing. In such a short space of time he was becoming cold. He was forsaken, a Brother of the Men-of-arms no longer, oath-less, Godless. Cold.

  The woman had left and moments later he was summoned to the bathhouse where he was striped and scrubbed roughly with coarse soaps and rags. He felt no pain as the rough hands aggravating the freshly stitched wounds. He neither flinched nor moaned as he stood naked and bleeding, with the beginnings of an evil smile the only trace of emotion on his face. He had enemies now, and even a life as a slave to the king brought some small hope of vengeance. He dressed in his new garments, the royal sky-blue of the king’s guard. Knee-high black leather riding boots, black hose, chain mail, coif and suit, and above it all his new identity. He stood in the mirror’s reflection and accepted the harsh truth. He was a new man now; he would follow the king’s orders blindly until the day when the names of his men could not be tarnished. He would revenge himself upon the lords who had taken his beloved Rochelle’s life. Then when the journey was complete, he would return to the clearing in the jungles of the north and share the fate of his former brothers.

  Chapter Eleven

  Council

  Cameos and Thakern walked silently through the desert night under a brightly lit sea of stars. Both dressed in the sand coloured furs of the desert fox and carrying short hunting bows. They were outfitted for a hunt, yet Cameos was neither in the mood to stalk the desert’s nocturnal creatures nor had the focus of mind needed. Instead, his invitation to Thakern was purely to seek a moment alone for guidance and council.

  ‘The Mother of all comes to me nightly now.’ Cameos began breaking the silence of the last few hours. ‘She speaks to me of our race’s decline, yet offers hope, but my mind is clouded with doubt. She speaks of lands known only to the Elder. Lands where we might live again under the sky as our ancestors once did, where water and food are bountiful. She speaks of a new start for the people, yet to make a new start we must first break with the old, break with tradition.’

  Thakern broke his own silence. ‘To walk a new path, we must first leave the old, and you are not the only one to see that our race is failing. It may be many centuries until the end, yet it is surely the path the Elven folk are walking.’

  They continued walking in silence as the harsh truth they were discussing deeply saddened both. It was Cameos who broke the silence. ‘Mother tells me the Elder holds knowledge that will not be freely given, knowledge that will be the foundation of the new path for our people, and I mean to take it my old friend. By any means necessary I shall take it. Will you stand beside me?’

  Thakern remained silent for the remainder of the night, but Cameos did not press for an answer. It was their race’s way to contemplate, instead of talking without meaning. The sun’s first rays were creeping into being and they were at the same portal to Elven Earth they had used to leave when the sun went down before Thakern spoke. ‘I shall stand by your side until death takes me my chief, as will many. Even if I believed you wrong, I would of course council you if I thought your actions were wrong, but in my heart and mind I know you, I believe your words and the sincerity in which you speak them. I make this oath freely, Cameos, son of Camochee, chieftain of the Elven people.’ Thakern kneeled at Camoes’ feet and raised his hands for Cameos to take in his own and repeated words that would bond the two together closer than a father and son. ‘By your words will my actions be done. By my hand, your enemies will die. By my eternal spirit I shall never abandon you.’

  Cameos pulled Thakern to his feet and said, ‘There are many who will oppose us brother, let us find those who will stand behind us.’

  They sat in the larger room in Cameos’ chambers, Cameos, Thakern and Releaka. Silently they considered what fate had put before them. Both aware of Cameos’ communication with the Goddess, they understood the enormous pressure it placed upon his shoulders. ‘We must hold a general meeting before the fountain. Every Elf who has seen a hundred years must bear witness to what I have already borne witness to.’

  Releaka shook her head almost imperceptibly and replied, ‘It will cause panic.’

  ‘Yes, and fear’, Cameos stated. ‘I shall tell them the horror of what awaits our race if we do nothing, then I shall give them the same hope the Mother gave me. I shall make the people afraid and desperate and then will be the time to confront the Elder and force them to give us the knowledge we seek.’

  It was now Thakern’s turn to speak. ‘Do you really believe the Elder will be unable to listen to reason? They have seen the slow decline of the fountain of life for as long as us three combined.’

  ‘No’, Cameos replied bluntly. ‘They are too bound to tradition and with the brothers Trake and Trugher, the true power behind the Elder. They would never listen to one as young as me, even with the support of the majority of the populace, they would refuse. And with their refusal and their eloquent words, they would have me called tyrant and overthrown. It is a barely concealed secret that they would abolish the role of chieftain altogether and rule through the Elders’ council.’

  The two closest people in Cameos’ entire world looked upon his youthful good looks, now etched with lines of worry about his eyes and mouth. Neither said a word. This unofficial council had ended and now Cameos was explaining his plan, which they both would follow.

  ‘We shall draw out our most trusted brethren and give them details we have already shared between us. We shall place them around the people. We shall instigate fear with the sharing of the truth, and then when we confront the Elder to release information needed for the survival of the Elven race and when they deny us, we shall at least have enough support from the people to avoid the spilling of too much Elf blood, when we take by force that which they will not give to us peacefully.’

  Thakern’s face took on a determined aspect. ‘The brothers, Talako, Tasunka and Tatanka are by far the greatest warriors I have trained of late, and their loyalty to you is fanatical. If it comes to spilling blood, those three will be steadfast to our cause. Bidzil is neither the match for either me or you by half, but his imposing size will be deterrent enough, likewise he has great love for you Cameos. Those four, yourself and I shall be a force few would challenge openly.’

  Cameos nodded his approval, silently cursing the need for planning violence upon his own, as Releaka said, ‘Violence against our own kin must be a contingency. To gain the support of the people, who may be swayed between the Elder and the chieftain, we must first gain the support of as many masters as we can. The master forester Cochise
has many underlings and commands a great deal of respect. I have heard him say more than once that new life fails to take hold in the forests. The weavers Willaka and her daughter Yaxkin are bonded to me in friendship and have the ear of Many of the females, both young and old.’

  Cameos smiled at his mate, for her insightfulness was ever a comfort to him. ‘It is true that many would side with those in the community they report to on a day-to-day basis. Thank you for your council, my love. There is one above all we must have support from, one who has not spoken since the loss of my father, Macik, who was bonded to my father as Thakern is now bonded to me.’

  Thakern looked sceptical. ‘If he would speak on your behalf, it would be a sound louder than a hundred voices, but I fear he will not utter a word. A part of him was lost along with Camachoo.’

  ‘I shall approach him myself. I shall wear the robes of my office and hold the staff of law. I shall remind him, absent of mind or not, he is bonded to the bloodline and service is his duty and his honour.’

  ‘My love’, Releaka breathed. ‘Do not be so forceful with him for he is a broken soul. Be tender, show him his path to honour and self-respect again. He does not forgive himself for your father’s loss. Show him that with you he will have redemption.’

  Thakern smiled with pride. ‘Releaka, you are wise beyond your years and a credit to your lineage. I see now why your father and mother beam with pride at the mention of your name. But there is one name we have not yet spoken of, Amaru, the snake. Ever he is in the wake of the brothers, a sycophant to those who would replace you. He speaks with passion and when he speaks people are enthralled by his words.’