The Crimson Claymore

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  “My knowledge is not great. Yet from what I’ve come to learn, our king Elsargast sailed across the sea many thousand years ago. He arrived with a small party of kheshlars, and they were wary from their journey, and they did not know a land here. They searched the land and were surprised to find no dragons and a race of mortal men. Their hearts stayed true to the forests of their origins, and so they settled in the west of the land. I do not know if the wood kheshlars traveled with us or came from elsewhere, but for many generations they have been lost to us.”

  “Younger race? How old is the race of kheshlars?”

  “That even my knowledge does not know. Our assumption is that we are the elder race, and yet since we were not kin to here, we do not know for certain. I do believe that we have been here since nearly the dawn of time, but again, I cannot be sure.”

  “You did not speak of the draeyks; were they not here when your kin arrived?”

  “I cannot say. I think another was noticed, but their numbers weren’t great enough to spark our interest. There was another race back then, though, that our stories do tell. They were called daerions, or those of horns. Those were nasty and strong creatures with rough blue skin and large ram-like horns that fell from their forehead to their jaw.”

  “I wonder where the draeyks came from.”

  “Do you want opinion or fact?”

  “You have given me fact; what is your opinion?”

  “From the appearance of these draeyks—with their elongated snouts, sharp teeth, long claws, scales, and tales—it seems a close similarity to the legends of dragons. Yet these creatures are much smaller. The legends of my race tell of fearsome large, scaled beasts with wings that flew through the skies and caused death and destruction to anything in their path. These draeyks do not seem so different, do they? The description is right, yet they are not as large as a palace, nor do they have wings. I come to wonder if through the dragons’ destruction of these lands, perhaps they’ve adapted in some way to a new kind, a new race.”

  “Do many of your race hold your same beliefs?”

  “Only a few. There are not many theorists among the kheshlars these days. Instead, they like hard facts that are written in history.”

  A small humph came from Erenuyh, who sat on the far side of the tree with legs crossed. He seemed to turn to look at Starlyn for only a moment until her eyes met his, and he soon cast his aside.

  “A very few,” Starlyn whispered.

  “Is it true that kheshlars live forever?” Andron asked.

  “We cannot die from natural causes and will live on until either sword, bow, or poison claims us. We do age, even if you human folk cannot see it. When we feel we have lived as long as we will, we become one with the trees. We may go to them and ask them for a chance to become a part of the nature that we so love.”

  “How old are you, Starlyn?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Three centuries and twenty years.”

  Andron stumbled as he looked at her. Her face did not nearly look so old. Indeed, she did not look young either. It was a strange appearance as he studied, but it was neither young nor old. Instead, it seemed to have an ageless appearance.

  “Do all of you appear ageless?”

  She smiled. “No, that look does not form until after our first hundred years, when we have reached full maturity.”

  “Are there many kheshlar children?”

  Starlyn laughed. “You are very intrigued in our ways.”

  “I’m sorry, am I asking too many questions? Not but a month ago did I think you as an old Wiseman’s tale. It seemed you appeared out of a storybook, and I am eager to learn as much as I can.”

  “Do not fret, you dare not speak too much, I will answer your questions as I can. Then perhaps I shall have questions of my own.”

  “You may ask any you wish.”

  “To answer your question, no, right now there are naught kheshlarn children. Though there are a few young kheshlars.”

  “No children? In our villages, there are dozens outside playing with each other, either making kites or wagons to play. I have three myself, three beautiful children. I am very eager to see them once again.”

  Starlyn laughed. “I have no doubt you are. You must remember that kheshlars live much longer than you. We do not need to be hasty to bear children. Our king has set forth strict rules about when we are to conceive children.”

  “Rules? There shouldn’t be rules of such things.”

  “For us there are. We are to only bear children once a century, on its dawn. Therefore, at each new century dawn, each of us has grown exactly a hundred years apart. It gives easy knowledge to each other’s age and how long they have been around.”

  “You say you are 320, and it is true to my calendar that it is twenty years in the century. So the youngest of your kin are but twenty?”

  Starlyn smiled once more. “Other kheshlars may say what they will of humans, but I will know the truth. You are a race quick to thought and mind. Yes, twenty is our youngest.”

  Andron opened his mouth but soon closed it. Starlyn stared at him with wonder, but he tried again to no success. Finally, he wiped sweat from his brow and spoke at last, “Has a kheshlar ever been committed to a human?”

  Starlyn’s expression darkened, and even Erenuyh looked over with wonder. It was hard to say whether it was at the question or for the answer. Starlyn shook her head as if fighting a battle with herself from within her mind.

  “It is forbidden by our king. None have tried to my knowledge, though even if they had, I would not assume I would hear of it. The act is considered treason, and the penalty is death. We are to remain within our borders, with our own race.”

  “That is sad, for you seem so free, and yet so trapped at the same time.”

  “Yes…I have often felt as such. Please, may we change the subject?”

  “Of course, I cannot think of any more questions. What questions do you have of me?”

  “Not many, though I wish to know of your family. Tell me of your wife and kids, if you may.”

  Andron smiled. “Ah, how I do miss them.”

  He took a drink of cold water from his water skin and pulled his pipe out once more. Igniting another twig, he dipped it to the pipe weed and inhaled smoothly. After another few puffs, he sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his back upon the tree.

  “My wife, Ketharine, is fair with fiery hair well past her shoulders. Freckles cover her cheeks that turn red when she smiles. She is both kind and gentle, and I am truly rewarded to have her love. Though, being redheaded, it seems she does sprout a temper from time to time that is fiercer than the thick fires her hair takes color from.”

  “Does the color hair alter the personality of the humans?”

  “No…I do not think it does. Yet the tale passed from generations of men has always been: blonde the fair, brunette the wise, and redhead the fierce. It does seem to hold true in many a circumstance, but nay, it does not hold true to everyone. Yet Ketharine does seem to heat with temper from time to time if she does not have her way. Although I find that true for all women. She was quite angry when I told her I was going to leave to fight, yet she seemed to settle when I told her that I would not be able to rest until the creatures were dead and unable to harm to our children and her.”

  “What of your children?”

  “I have three, two little girls and a young boy. Kierra is my eldest at the age of nine, and has fiery red hair and freckles to match her mother. Adreamera is but five with long black hair and few freckles upon her beautiful face. My last, my son Aneldon is but a year old with very few hairs on his head, yet they are already fiery red. I do miss them dearly and am eager to spend time with them again. I hope we do not have to leave so soon after we arrive.”

  “We may have time to stay a little while,” Starlyn smiled.

  “Good.”

  “What is it like?”

  “What?”

  “Children, being a father, a parent.”
<
br />   His eyes widened with wonder as he looked back at her. He didn’t think to ask about her personal life, but now he wondered of it. “Do you not have children?”

  “No…I do not. I think I have always wanted, yet each time the century comes close I find that I have nobody to share it with, at least nobody that I wish to. There are many kheshlars that have tried to win my affection, but my heart has never set.” She closed her eyes. “And I fear it never will.”

  “Do not fret, fair Starlyn, if your heart has not been claimed, it is only because you have not met the right one yet. As my father told me as a lad, ‘Son, there is a special someone for everyone. The trick is not to search, but let yourself be found.’”

  “Strange advice, yet it seems soothing in a way. Perhaps I have spent too much time searching for someone that wasn’t there. Between that and searching to destroy these draeyks, I have kept myself quite busy.”

  “Perhaps it is time that you take a rest, and instead of searching for others, you should search within yourself. Find out who you truly are, and then the rest of the decisions you will find much clearer.”

  “For one so young, you seem to be wiser than those of old.”

  Andron laughed. “Not I; I am not wise. Yet I listen to the words of wise men, and I keep them true to my heart.”

  Both were quiet for a while, and Andron took to smoking his pipe weed. The sun rose high in the sky, and the head of midday was upon them. Soon, the scorching heat would make them drowsy, and they would take a great sleep.

  “It is a wonderful feeling, far past what mere words can describe.”

  “What’s that?” Starlyn asked, seeming to break from thought.

  “Being a father. You crave to be around them all the time. To play with them and teach them things. Every time you teach them something, your heart warms with pride. For to you they are unlike any other. They are yours, and when they grow they will look up to you. In their eyes, you are everything that they should be. And so each deed you do, each step you make, you must make certain that it is the correct path. For they will always be watching you, and they will learn from your successes and your failures.”

  “It almost seems a burden.”

  “Burden? Yes, it may seem so. Yet it is not a burden to drag you down, but a burden to boost you up, and make you a better person for it.”

  “I can see that in you, for I see you as a great person. Your quality of good surpasses that of many kheshlars I know. There is no selfishness in you but instead selflessness. This is a trait I have seldom seen within kheshlars.”

  “I thank you for your kind words, yet I am far from perfect.”

  “As are we all. I’d like to ask, if I may, what is it like having several younglings only years apart? It is a question I cannot even ask a kheshlar, for they do not know, as we cannot have children so often.”

  “The only word I can fancy to find is joy. Watching them play with each other and treat each other with kindness, and sometimes spite. It is a warming feeling. Together, they learn, and together they play. It is easier to have a few children than only one. For one child demands your full attention at every waking moment. Yet when there are a few, there are times they would rather play with each other. They learn from each other and teach each other, which is also a help in times of stress.”

  “It sounds enlightening, and sometime in the far future I would not mind at all to be a bearer of children.”

  “I think you would make a fond mother.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He yawned loudly and tucked his pipe back in his pouch. “I’m afraid we’ve stayed up too long, and my body grows weary. I will rest now, for I know this evening you will want to be off again at the same swift pace.”

  “Rest well, Andron,” Starlyn said as his eyes closed. She smiled at him before closing her own eyes to rest against the tree.

  Chapter 17

  Searon rode long and far five days southeast alongside Karceoles with barely a word of conversation. Flashbacks of his brother and the time they’d shared together occupied his mind. He still remembered the confused expression on his brother’s face when he returned from Tiermera. Searon’s hard battle-worn expression had changed since he came back from the city, and Noraes was the first to notice it. Noraes was many years younger and still craved the thrill of the fight, while Searon grew in mind and wanted more peaceful things. There was a time when he thought he would never want such things, but when he had stared upon the face of the tear-struck Victoria through the smoke of Tiermera, everything changed. He no longer cared for the wars, the battle, and the foolishness of men attacking men. It seemed that during all the long years of fighting he was searching for something, and it was found when he first glanced upon Victoria.

  At first, Noraes had bid Searon to see the foolishness of his ways, and told him that the phase would pass. Searon tried telling him otherwise, but the young hardheaded brother would not listen. Until the day he beheld Victoria for himself. Searon had kept Victoria from him at first because he was still unsure if she did trust him. He would not force himself upon her because he treasured her beyond all else. First, he would allow her to fall in love with him, and then they would marry. For many months, did he hope and wish for that day to come, but he kept true to his word and didn’t leave for battle when all else around him did. Instead, he stayed, but he did train men in the art of swords, to all those who would wield one. He told Victoria that he trained them so they would not be defenseless in an attack, but he did hold back deathblows that he had once taught.

  It was the third month when Searon noticed Victoria’s kisses returned with passion, and the glint in her eyes and smile upon her face. That’s when it was time for her to meet his brother for more than a glance—a true meeting. He wanted his brother to understand before marrying so he could accept his wife without resentment. He wanted his brother to be by his side at the wedding. The memory was carved in his mind like that of a perfect glass sculpture, and it came to him every night in his dreams since the wizard had mentioned his brother.

  * * *

  Victoria stood in the kitchen, stirring the large steel pot of soup she’d made. A smile was on her lips when she turned around to find Searon setting the table with bowls and spoons. Searon only smiled back as he continued to make sure everything was proper with his seat across from hers and his brother’s on the side of the oak table. The smell of fresh vegetables, chicken, and spices loomed inside and made Searon’s mouth water. She made some of the best soup he had ever tasted, with cabbage, potatoes, chicken, garlic, and other ingredients that he could not guess.

  He walked up to her from behind and rested his head on her shoulder. She turned into him and clasped her arms around his neck. Her face lit up in a smile, and she bit her lip. Searon smiled down at her and was surprised when she stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him passionately. A knock at the door startled them, and Searon left her to open it.

  Noraes stood, dressed in a blue silk shirt and slick black breeches with a bundle of flowers in his hand. He seemed to shake nervously, and his eyes kept wavering side to side. His dirty-blond hair was partially brushed as well as any single man might hope to achieve without a mirror. He smiled slightly looking at Searon, but he remained still.

  “Please, come in,” Searon beckoned.

  He nodded and stepped inside, glancing at Victoria who was in a crimson silk dress and red slippers. She began filling the bowls that Searon handed her as Noraes took a seat. Searon sat down and watched his brother.

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “You need not thank me, but Victoria: She is the one who beckoned me to meet you. It is also she who slaves in the kitchen without allowing help.”

  “Uhmm…Thank you, Victoria.”

  “It is my pleasure,” she smiled. “I have been very eager to meet you, as your brother speaks well of you. There is much pride in him to have you as a brother.”

  “He is too kind, but perhaps, he alway
s has been.”

  “I am surprised he has not invited you to meet me sooner.”

  “I did not want to push my family on you, dear, but I decided to wait until you were ready to ask,” Searon said.

  “You take my feelings into too much thought, darling, for I was yours as soon as you swept me upon your horse.”

  “Yes, that is true, yet there was still doubt within you, and I have allowed that to pass.”

  “It has passed,” she smiled.

  Noraes looked at their exchange with unease and fondled his soup spoon.

  “Would the guest like to say grace?” Searon asked.

  Noraes looked up suddenly, and his eyes widened. “Uhmm, yes, I could do that.” He shifted in his chair slightly. “Dear whoever may be higher than us, the mighty one who gives us all that we have. We ask that you continue to enlighten our lives, and we bid thanks to thee for the meals on our table, and the ale for our thirst.”

  Searon laughed. “That was blandly put, my brother.”

  “What…you know better than to ask me. I could never say it right when growing up; what makes you think I can now?”

  “It was good enough for us; we may eat.”

  The three ate, and Noraes seemed quite pleased with his soup and impressed by Victoria as well. He had never had such a fine soup before, and besides, he was used to eating bread and simple food, for it was always only him. Once the three had filled up on soup and bread, both Searon and Noraes went outside to smoke their pipes. Victoria stayed inside to clean the table and dishes.

  “So, my brother, what do you think of her?” Searon asked.

  “She is a fine cook.”

  Searon laughed. “Yes she is.”

  “She is nice, Searon, beautiful and kind, and I find her to complement you well. I am sorry I spoke ill of your changes, but some part of me still wishes to grasp for my brother that would join me on the battlefield.”

  “I understand, but I’ve come to realize that these battles and wars are futile. We are destroying our own kind, and for what? All those innocents caught between the few who do the harm to start it all. Can’t you see the waste?”