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

by Aiden L Turner

  Cameos addressed the crowd in a loud, clear voice. ‘Terrible tragedy has befallen our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. But today we shall bring to account this criminal. These attacks were made with a weapon of steel. A short sword, thin-bladed and double-edged. We shall search each and every Elf, and each and every living space. Starting with myself as chief, Joleata as council elder, Thakern as master of combat and my bondsman, and Macik as bondsman to my father and the ever stoic warrior at my side. Do any object? For now, is the time for openness.’ None spoke. ‘Then let us begin.’

  Cochise, Deleif and Akakios approached Cameos. All three bowed before their chieftain respectfully. ‘My chief, in the highest regard I place you, I offer no suspicion or disrespect’, Cochise said apologetically.

  ‘I take no offence my friend’, Cameos said as he smiled and raised his hands to allow the elves to search his body. Already Adela, Elfric and Bidzil had made their way to the living quarters of those first to be searched.

  Yaxkin searched Joleata whilst Akakios searched Thakern. All took the humiliation with as much pride as they could muster. ‘Cameos is free of weapons.’ Cochise announced quickly, followed by the same announcement from Yaxkin and Akakios. Cochise moved towards Macik. The old warrior growled as he was approached, but a scowl from Cameos silenced him. After a nervous few moments, Cochise announced that Macik was also free of weapons.

  All in the grand temple waited. Warriors stood beside their chieftain with tense posture and angry eyes. Those tasked with beginning the great search continued with those warriors bonded with their chieftain, as they waited for the return of those searching the living quarters of Cameos, Thakern, Joleata and Macik. All was going well. No objections were made. No insults were shared. Then Adela, Elfric and Bidzil returned, and the hall erupted in angry conversation and a demand for answers. For high above Adela’s head and held in both hands, was a short double-edged sword.

  The three walked slowly towards the group of leaders as the crowd parted to make way. All three hung their heads, then the temple hall became silent as grief swept over the Elven people. Elves from all ages, genders and trades began to weep openly as they realised that the perpetrator of these heinous acts was one who the normal folk revered. Either, their chief, Cameos. Their reverent elder, Joleata. The much respected and loved master of combat, Thakern. Or the most honoured warrior, Macik.

  The four looked from one to the others. Surprisingly, none showed fear, only a sense of distrust mixed with angry curiosity. Adela, strong and well-built from centuries of lifting timber and hammering nails, walked now with his head held high and determination glowing from his moist eyes. As he reached the four, he looked once at Cameos then at Joleata, his eyes then rested on Thakern before he threw the blade down, to clatter with deafening noise in the silence at Macik’s feet.

  ‘Seize him!’ Joleata screeched as she pointed an accusing finger at Macik. ‘He has turned from the Mother to do the work of the Dark One.’

  Talako and his brothers Tasunka and Tatanka moved to stand on either side of Macik and to his rear whilst Cameos came to stand before Macik. Macik made no movement. He starred with defiance as Cameos met his eyes.

  ‘Macik, son of Malacil, bondsman to the great chieftain Camochee, defender of the Elven folk. You are accused of murder. What say you?’ Cameos said formally, then he leaned forward and said in a voice only Macik could hear. ‘Tell me you did not do these things, old friend. I shall believe you.’ Macik only starred back, his face an unreadable mask of stone. ‘What say you?’ Cameos said again, much more aggressively. Still no reply.

  ‘If you neither admit nor reject perpetrating these crimes, then I evoke the power of the Mother. A trial by combat!’ Joleata roared the last towards the crowd. She was relishing in this experience, Cameos noted. But trial by combat was tradition to determine truth. And it was one that Cameos was unwilling to break, even though he knew he must be the deliverer of truth and justice.

  ‘Thakern, fetch me a blade’, Cameos said regretfully. Thakern returned from the armoury within minutes. Cameos looked into Macik’s eyes and beyond, trying to read his lifelong companion, but found no emotion, no hate, sorrow, regret, innocence or evil. Cameos took the blade from his bondsman and tested the weight in his hand.

  ‘Pick up the blade, Macik. We shall fight to the death, with steel like our ancestors before us did.’ The last was shouted to the crowd, some of whom had left, not willing to watch the death of their own kind, even in the form of justice.

  ‘If you are free of these crimes Macik, then take up your blade and prove it.’ Joleata spoke to Macik, in a voice of temptation. Cameos felt his anger rising with Joleata, and the blade quivered in his grasp.

  Yet Macik remained so still he seemed to be in a state of meditation. Then he dropped to his knees and looked up at Cameos and said, barely above a whisper, ‘For the peace of our people, my chieftain, bring that blade down upon my neck.’

  Joleata seemed more animated than Cameos had ever seen her, as she screamed. ‘No! It must be a trial by combat, and we shall see who the Mother lives in and whom is possessed by the Dark Lord.’

  Cameos raged at Joleata’s impudence and took a step towards her before he felt Macik’s hand upon his leg restraining him. He looked down at Macik, who returned his stare with pleading in his eyes. ‘My death will bring the people peace. They will continue the tunnel. And you will lead them out of this accursed place the Mother has forgotten. Strike!’ Macik roared. And with a twist of his body and one fluent movement, his blade fell and Macik’s head was sliced from his body. Cameos looked down upon his friend’s face and saw only contentment. Then, from the rear of the temple. At the entrance to the great tunnel. The screaming started.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Training

  Elysabeth concentrated upon the markings Robert had made on the slate stone tablet she held in her hands. The markings made with chalk were numbers and as Elysabeth struggled to discern the equation her pretty face scrunched into lines and her wide eyes narrowed. Brother Robert, known as Red Rob by those he considered friends laughed, without menace or mockery. He simply found Beth’s face amusing when she was wrestling with new learnings.

  ‘Do not laugh, Brother Robert’, Beth said in mock scolding. ‘You know it draws my concentration; it is by far the most infectious thing known to man.’

  ‘I am sorry my dear, continue’, Robert said, suppressing his mirth.

  ‘I still do not understand the need for this skill...’ She searched for the word.

  ‘Algebra’, Robert supplied for her.

  ‘Why would I need to know the value of an unknown amount? I mean for heaven’s sake Rob, I can count to ten one thousands, and higher. Surely that would be enough? Can we not learn more about your potions? I do so enjoy that... science.’ Robert smiled, his famous smile full of warmth and kindness.

  ‘Ah! I have you, my dear!’ Red Rob said with uncontainable happiness. ‘For the science of chemistry, which is my potions you adore, we need more advanced mathematics than counting. And besides, Elysabeth, it exercises your mind, just as Askia here trains his body. And with time and effort your mind will be a weapon, just as is Askia’s sword arm.’

  Askia nodded his gratitude at the compliment and continued his guard duty. Whilst Beth rolled her eyes and with a smile upon her pretty face went back to studying the equation.

  ‘I have it’, she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat with excitement. ‘Five add A equals seven, so A represents two. Twenty and five minus Y equals eighteen, the Y represents seven, so.’ She took a much-needed breath. ‘A, added to Y, is just two and seven making nine.’ She sat down in exaggerated exhaustion.

  ‘Well done, my dear, well done’, Red Rob said, pleased and excited by her progress. Two quick knocks on the door followed a deeper thud announced Holak at the door. ‘Enter’, said Askia after drawing his mace and taking up a defensive position, hidden in the shadow of the opening door.

  Holak en
tered the room casually, using his teeth to pick the last remnants of flesh from a chicken bone. Elysabeth and Red Rob stopped their conversation, Elysabeth grinned whilst Brother Robert’s eyes narrowed, and his face took on a hard aspect. Askia stepped from behind the open door, closing it quickly as Holak walked through. ‘Ready for anything. That was the last words our Lord and Master spoke to us as he left us responsible for what he holds most dear, brother’, Askia said reprimanding his brother in a quiet but serious tone.

  ‘I, Holak, am ready to pounce without a moment’s notice or warning, like a sailor walking into a whorehouse.’

  Holak had the good sense and grace to blush and bow his head as Beth giggled. ‘My apologies, my lady, I am more accustomed to the company of warriors. I shall be more aware of my manners in the future.’

  ‘It is quite alright, Holak, I have heard much coarser language whilst tilling the fields with the farmhands. And you would not believe what the women will talk openly about whilst washing clothing’, Elysabeth said warmly.

  Brother Robert took a deep breath, as if to calm his temper, then said, ‘Forgive me, Beth, but it is, in fact, not alright. One day, with the help of God, you will wear the crown of this kingdom. You will sit next to the most powerful man alive. And the Lords and Ladies of this land will hate you simply for the fact that you were common born. How will they ever respect you, if your guardsman, hand-picked from the most elite of warriors, known for their discipline as well as their prowess on the battlefield, cannot even hold his tongue whilst in your presence?’

  ‘You are right, Father. I beg your forgiveness, my lady’, Holak said whilst going to his knees, filled with shame.

  ‘I shall forgive you and you may rise, yet I believe some sort of penitence may be required.’

  Holak rose to his feet and said softly, ‘Whatever my lady wishes it is surely my honour to fulfil.’

  ‘Then it is settled, you will fast for twenty-four hours. You may have water, and water alone. And if this hardship interferes with your duties, then the next penitence will be a fasting from all food and drink, baring water of course, for forty-eight hours.’ Elysabeth looked to Father Robert and smiled. ‘Maths and punishment, regal enough, Red Rob. Now can we continue with some education in chemistry?’

  ‘Most regal, my lady’, Robert said, his naturally cheerful demeanour returning. ‘Unfortunately, I have matters elsewhere that demand my attention. But you shall have lessons, my dear, do not worry.’

  ‘Lessons in what? And who is to be my tutor?’ Elysabeth asked in a slightly suspicious tone.

  ‘You may, one day, through no fault of your own doing, or that of anybody who has sworn to protect you, find the need to defend your life. I pray that it is never so, but you will be made capable, regardless. I have something for you, my lady.’ With that, Brother Robert retrieved a dagger encased in a scabbard of elk horn. He drew the blade and although it looked well maintained, it was a poor-looking thing compared to those jewel encrusted weapons the nobility wore. Its blade was such a dark grey it was akin to black. The double edges were clearly as sharp as a razor and the eight inches of stout-looking metal ended in a lethal point.

  ‘Do not be fooled by its modest appearance, my lady, for this is a blade of power. Take it but mind yourself’, Rob said as he handed her the round handle, that appeared made for her as it sat in her grip perfectly. ‘It has been in my order’s keeping for as long as memory. It was given as a gift to one of the first of our order and it is written in texts both old and mostly forgotten that this blade was forged in a time before kings. A great warrior-priest forged it atop the highest mountain and once he had laid down his hammer, he sat beside the anvil upon which the blade rested, and he prayed. He prayed that He who is Greatest should bless the weapon which the warrior intended to gift his betrothed, and his prayers were answered. A lightning bolt rendered the sky as He who is Greatest threw down His strength and commanded all imperfection leave the blade. It will never bend, break, rust, nor grow dull with use. You shall carry it with you always. As for your tutor, my dear, Askia here will instruct you how to use that weapon. Follow his every word, for it’s more a danger to yourself then any foe, at the moment I fear.’ With that Brother Robert made his farewells, asked Elysabeth for permission to dismiss himself, and left. As he passed Holak to exit through the only door, he gently placed a hand upon Holak’s meaty shoulder and said, ‘Do your penance with humility, warrior. And do not worry yourself, we all have lessons to learn.’

  ‘My lady, if you would please put that knife away, we shall begin’, Askia said as he drew a wooden replica of the knife of power. ‘Till you are proficient in handling something so deadly we shall train with something you cannot hurt yourself, or me, with. Here catch’, he said as he threw her the wooden knife.

  Elysabeth had her back to Askia, as she was just finishing putting her new treasure away, as he threw the training weapon. To Askia and Holak’s surprise, she spun gracefully and caught the wooden blade, snatching it out of the air with speed and skill neither brother thought she possessed. The brothers were still thinking of the fourteen-year-old peasant girl as barely more than a child. She smiled as she saw the astonishment on their hardened warrior faces. Then her face turned, her pretty, girlish features taken by a calm authority and an air of seriousness. She began sweeping the fake dagger in wide but precise arcs. Once at throat level, then she gracefully turned her wrist and brought it down in a slashing motion that would have gutted a grown man. Still fluid in her movement, she took a step forward and spun to her left, squatting as she slashed. The blade found only air, but both brothers knew the strike was an imitation of a hamstringing manoeuvre, and theirs jaws dropped.

  Elysabeth stopped, smiled, and took a mock bow to her bewildered audience. ‘I was using a hand scythe from the moment I could stand. After hour upon hour, you compete with your fellow workers. It was a game to pass the time. And after the sickness came to our village, some years back, even the girls were needed to help with the livestock slaughter and butchery.’ She eyed the two brothers, both formidable warriors, well proven in battle and unafraid to die. And the hardness in her eyes left their mouths dry and their heads bowed. ‘Do you think me a silly girl? Do you think your king was the first man who tried to rape me? I have worked since I could walk. My father and both my brothers died before I could have memories of them. My mother tried her best, but she abandoned hope a long time ago. And I have been fighting off drunken men trying to fuck me since I got tits, and some before even then. I am no warrior, Askia, and I am happy and grateful for everything you can teach me. But do not mistake me for weak!’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  South

  Three weeks since leaving Castle Sprettaman, the king and his procession were greeted a mile from the port city of Blessesea, by the Lord Beringer and the wealthiest of the city’s elite. Over a hundred men knelt in the dust outside the city’s ancient walls, their brightly coloured, expensive attire forgotten as they showed their obedience before the king of all men.

  The king seemed unwearied by the travel and allowed himself the pleasure of watching the wealthy, the rich and the nobility grovel before him. The minutes dragged on until finally the king announced in a loud, clear voice. ‘My Lord Beringer, nobles and men of note, your king is pleased to see how you have prospered. You may rise. Lord Beringer, approach.’

  Lord Beringer walked towards the king, straight-backed and head held high. He bowed low before the king and said. ‘My King, an honour it is to see you. How may I serve?’

  ‘I fear my men are in need of rest, yet I am restless to see the progress you have made towards our noble quest. Have my staff and guard situated. You will take me with haste to the harbour before we lose the light of day.’ He turned in his saddle. ‘Nephew, bring a small guard and accompany me.’

  It took less than an hour for King Kane, Jacob, Colburn and Lord Beringer to circumnavigate the city walls and come to the docks. And there lay a scene hectic with activit
y. Warehouse after warehouse hummed with the coming and going of slaves and their slave-masters. Great trunks of oak were being manhandled by scores of slaves, naked apart from a small cloth to hide their manhood, whilst other groups of slaves carried the cut timbers from sawmills to the tradesmen and workshops. Jacob was both disgusted by the amount of slavery he saw before him and awed by the constructions they laboured towards.

  Beringer sat astride his horse and watched the wonder wash over his king in silence.

  Finally, the king spoke. ‘You have been busy, my lord, remarkably busy. Explain to me what it is I am seeing.’

  ‘We have over a thousand slaves working under three hundred and twenty-one of the most skilled tradesmen in the south. In the west of the city, in the bay of Gentle Waters, we have thirty-two completed cargo ships, each as large as the two you see here tied to the pier. Each can carry enough drinking water and food to supply the fifty crewmen and twenty trained warriors required. The crewmen will be made of forty slaves to man the oars and ten professional sailors. We are on target to meet one hundred of these vessels in the next eighteen months.’ Lord Beringer made the statement with pride, but something changed in the tone of his voice as he ended his well-rehearsed speech.