The Power Within: The Chronicles of Hollyglade Wayrender

by Steve Barker

  “I can not accept such a thing” he replied “I would have no use for a sword, nor the knowledge to wield it.”

  “Please, sir, you must take it. It is well made and could fetch a handsome sum at a market, or if offered for sale through a smith. Please, I insist. You may have no use for it yourself, but someone who would find it useful would pay well for it. Besides, I definitely have no use for two swords.” She held the weapon out to him with both hands, her face pleading with him to accept the offer. After a moment of consideration, he nodded and took the sword from her, setting it by the hearth.

  “Maybe we’ll mount it above the fireplace.” he chortled with a wink to his wife “We can pretend we’ve got a whole amory, and this is our spare sword.” He continued to chuckle waiting for Hollyglade to return his smile. She finally relaxed slightly, blushed, and nodded as she moved to the door. Turning to Lera, she stopped and smiled “Thank you for the clothing, and for the food. You have restored me.”

  “It was nothing. But you are very welcome my dear. Now, get south before those useless King’s men get to bothering you again. Before you leave, take this.” The woman handed Hollyglade a small loaf of bread, and wedge of cheese.

  “Ma’am, you are too kind.” She started to try to hand the food back, but the woman waved off the attempt. Hollyglade blushed, dropped her head, bowed slightly and then turned for the door as she offered one last goodbye. “Farewell, good people.”

  Hollyglade ducked out the door, and turned for the road. It was now just before noon, and she knew that whatever lead she may have on the bounty hunter was surely less today than it had been in the night. Thankfully, it was warmer today than it had been in the last few days, but she knew that would not be the trend. The weather was going to get colder, and she needed to cover some ground. Her leg was stiff and sore from the morning’s accidental stabbing, and her feet were still raw from the punishment the rough ground had dealt them in the night. She knew her pace was not going to be quick, but she felt she had to push herself. She set off along the road as fast as she could move at a limp.

  After a short time on the road, Hollyglade’s ears caught the sound of hoofbeats. She quickly shot into the bushes and found a thick copse to hide in. As she settled herself in the dense foliage, she looked back down the road to watch for who might be coming this way. Fear welled up in her again as she wondered if this could be more men hunting her. She hoped that this might just be some travellers, as she knew this road to be travelled often enough. She was just under a mile from the farm, and could still see the farmhouse, and some of the road beyond.

  As the riders came into view, her heart dropped. One rider was very tall in the saddle, and carried a bow on his back. The other, the one whom she could not mistake for anyone else, wore clothes all of cream colour. The riders slowed as they approached the farmhouse and rode to the gate of the fenced yard.

  Hollyglade put both hands over her face and did all she could to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes. She was a mix of rage, panic, and anxiety. Her mind raced over whether to flee, or to run back and help. She had a couple of weapons, but felt useless with them. She fearfully suspected the most likely fate of these good people would be the same as the old woman in the last village. How could she just sit there and let such a wrong, an injustice she would be responsible for, come to those innocent farmers?

  Holyglade felt a rush within her. She felt the swell of power begin to build. I could wipe them all out with a thought! She told herself. But she also knew that using her power would mean using another weapon she had no skill with, that she had no control over, one that she did not know how to wield with any level of discipline. They are going to kill that family anyway, so what’s the added risk? But then her thoughts went beyond this farm, and to the other villages she knew to be close by. She could not assure herself that an expression of the power she possessed would be limited to the area of this one farm.

  As she looked up again, both men entered the farmhouse. Hollyglade made a decision. As the second, taller man ducked inside, she stood, turned, and ran as fast as she could away from the farm. As she fled, tears began to stream down her face, and her sobbing made her limping gait even more ungainly. She did not look back, and she did not stop.

  ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

  As dGerrie followed The Dancer into the farmhouse, the bounty hunter threw back the hood of his cloak and offered a jovial greeting. “Good day to you fine people. I wonder……” He stopped mid sentence and drew his sword, placing the the tip at the neck of the man standing next to his wife and son. “Where is she?” the bounty hunter asked with a tone now underlaid with threats.

  “Where is who, sir?” came the reply through fear and restrained panic.

  “I’m not a knight. Where did she go?”

  “I'm sorry me Lord, I know not whom you seek. ”

  “I’m not a Lord either.”

  With a flick of the bounty hunter’s wrist the man’s neck was opened, and he fell to the floor. The woman screamed and tried to hold back the blood which came pouring out of her husband. Another swipe of his sword dispatched the woman as her son backed away in fear. With a turn, Var Toran looked at the boy who was now almost right next to dGerrie.

  Turning to look at the boy, and then back to his parents, dGerrie raised his hand and swatted the boy across the face, knocking him to the floor unconscious. He then looked back to the bounty hunter who narrowed his eyes, lifted his hand to point a finger in dGerrie’s direction, and pressed his mouth into a hard line, then turned and walked over to the hearth.

  As he did so, dGerrie looked down to see the boy still breathing, then back at the bounty hunter, who was picking up a sword which had been leaning against the hearth. Var Toran looked at the sword and then to dGerrie.

  “Search the barn. I’ll search the house. Though this belonged to one of them, this was not left here by Mr. Webb, nor by Mr. Brooker”.

  IV : Anger

  Vernon Howe had ridden through the night and was now extremely weary as he approached the City of Rivershore. The capital city of the Kingdom of Demaria sat on the shores of the Western Sea at the Stone River’s delta. The City was built on either side of the river, with Castle Waterstone built into the high cliffs where the southern tip of the Septen Mountains met the sea. Having been away from his home city for over a year, Vernon Howe was glad to be returning, though he wished it was under different circumstances.

  His journey began on the morning of the previous day, in the city of Magnaville, capital of the Kingdom of Loria. Vernon was a Listener, and had been assigned a mission to make himself a member of the court at Magnaville, in order to covertly pass along information to King Dermond’s Counsellor of Listeners, Lord Bellard Grange of River’s Fork. Vernon had established himself in King Jerold’s court, in the year leading up to the King’s death. He had managed to do so by making himself one of the wealthiest merchants in Magnaville. This had not been hard to do, having had the support of the Demarian crown secretly ensuring that his shipments of various wares, spices, cloth, precious metals and gems, were always plentiful. Today, Vernon Howe returned to Rivershore to deliver a report to the King, one he knew he must deliver in person.

  Vernon entered the city and headed for the palace gate. The city gates were open, as they had been for as long as he could remember. They had been built to withstand a great siege, yet in the era of peace that had lasted for a generation in the land, the gates had never been closed. As he rode through the great entrance, Vernon Howe could not help but think that he may soon see those gates closed for the first time in his life. He spurred his horse through the streets of Rivershore, avoiding the first few people in the street who had come to open their shops and stalls for the day’s commerce. Dawn was just beginning to break as he arrived at the entrance to Waterstone, the ancient seat of house Riaghlad, rulers of Demaria since before the kingdom’s written history.

  At the gate, Vernon Howe was met by the Royal Guard.

 
“Hail friend. What business have you at Waterstone?” This was the standard greeting. Hail Friend. In generations past, it had been a much less cordial Halt! Who approaches Waterstone? Again, Vernon Howe wondered how many things might change in the city after the delivery of his news.

  “Friends, I am Vernon Howe, messenger and servant to Lord Bellard Grange. I bear a dispatch for the King and desire entry to make delivery.” He had never uttered that first phrase, messenger and servant to Lord Bellard Grange, aloud before. As his true vocation had been covert and secret, in the last couple of years he had always introduced himself as Vernon Howe, Merchant. At your service.

  “Friend, we know not of your service to Lord Grange. May we ask you for the seal of your house?” This was often the request for those the Royal Guard did not recognize. Vernon was frustrated by the delay, yet he knew that he must enter Waterstone via the proper procedures lest he be the cause of his own postponement.

  “Good sirs, I carry not my seal, for I have had reason to keep it safe and hidden. Please, I beg of you to summon Lord Grange. He will vouch for me. The message I carry for the king is of the utmost importance, and though I desire to respect your duty to confirm my entry into the castle, I ask that you expedite the process as best you are able.”

  “Does the Lord Grange expect you?”

  “I’m afraid there was not time to send word of my intent to return here.”

  “Very well, friend. Please wait a moment.”

  The guard motioned for one of the castle pages, and quietly instructed him to find Lord Grange and inform him of who it was that called at the castle gate. The page hurried off to execute the guard’s command.

  After a short time the page returned with Lord Grange.

  “Vernon Howe. I am surprised by this unexpected return. Guards, let him pass. I am sure we have much to discuss.”

  “Thank you, my Lord” replied Vernon, as the guards opened the inner gate, allowing him to pass through. “I have urgent news which must be delivered to the King. Urgent enough, that I could not risk a courier. This news must be delivered in person.”

  “Now I am curious. Do you bear terms for the return of Lord Casterin of Downwater? Has the new Lorian King demanded as high a price as some have wagered?”

  Vernon paused, and looked around to see that no one else was within earshot in the corridor they travelled on their way to the king’s council chambers.

  “No my Lord.” he whispered. “It is not terms for the exchange a hostage. It is the details of his execution.”

  Lord Grange’s mouth dropped, as he was momentarily at a loss for words.

  “When, in the history of our great nations, has a hostage been executed without a parlance between kingdoms? By the gods, this is the declaration of war! It is good that you returned, Mr. Howe. The King must hear of this. I shall send for the members of His Royal Council at once.

  “Page! Page!” Lord Grange called for the page at the top of his lungs, and several came running, having properly interpreted the urgency in his call. “Boys, run with all the haste you can. Inform the members of the Royal Council that the King requires them to assemble at once. Tell them great exigencies demand their presence in the council chambers immediately.”

  Each of them nodded, and they quickly discussed between them who would deliver the messages to whom, and they left to complete their tasks.

  “Come Vernon. You must be exhausted. We will have food and drink brought for you to the council’s ante-chamber, and we shall await the arrival of the council there.”

  “Thank you, my Lord. I have much to tell.”

  ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

  “Your Grace. My Lords. I have travelled with great haste to deliver to you accounts of the happenings in Magnaville. Some of what I must report you will have heard versions of, while more of what I must report will be news indeed.” Vernon Howe paused a moment to collect his thoughts. He had never addressed the Royal Council before. He had never been present within a meeting of the Royal Council prior to this. He was nervous.

  “First, I must deliver the news that brought me with such haste. Yesterday morning. Lord Casterin of Downwater was executed publicly in the colonnade at Whiterock.”

  “Surely not!” exclaimed Lord Birk, commander of the Royal Army. The room erupted in protest and disbelief as the assembled Lords expressed their outrage and surprise.

  Though there were few in attendance, the occupants of the room represented the full power and rule of Demaria. King Dermond kept appointed to council those whom he valued, for various reasons. Lord Birk was a proven military commander, Lord Orban was a shrewd negotiator and businessman, Lord Grange was connected across the four Kingdoms of the realm and beyond, and both the King’s sons, Princes Dertron and Dornian were men raised for leadership.

  Even in a room filled with such stolid men, the news of this blatant breach of tradition and convention, the breaking of the covenant made between King Dermond and King Jerold, produced deep shock and bewilderment. The only person to remain silent was the King.

  Raising his hand to silence the room, Dermond Riaghlad turned to Vernon Howe

  “Please continue, faithful servant. We must hear the details before we determine our response to this affront to our friendship.” The King often referred to the diplomatic relationship with Loria in that way. King Jerold had done the same, during his lifetime. It had been their way of reminding all those in both kingdoms that peace was of foremost importance in the realm.

  Vernon nodded and continued.

  “As you are aware, the Lorian Crown Prince disappeared near our borders just over two weeks ago. Within the court at Whiterock, there was much speculation about the identity of the abductors. Of course, as you know, some immediately pointed their fingers toward Waterstone, though none here had motive nor desire to prevent the Prince from ascending to his throne. Others blamed the Elvish, claiming that they feared the Prince would alter the relationship built between Loria and the Elder folk by his late father. Some claimed that their motivation was to take advantage of Lorian and Demarian good will, to make a preemptive strike in a war for greater hold over their traditional lands.

  “Some even pointed the finger to Sudara for various irrational reasons. As you know, the new Lorian King Harford, eventually sent covert operatives to abduct Lord Casterin. Though it is historically common for kingdoms and counties to take hostages when such conflicts arise, holding them to ensure that proper investigations are not interrupted, or to ensure all sides attend negotiations, there was no such intent in the abduction of Lord Casterin.

  “Your Grace had asked, through our secret channels, that I make an investigation into the possible reasoning for the lack of customary demand for ransom in the case of Lord Casterin. I made much effort to gain insight into King Harford’s deliberations on the matter, yet I was unable to glean his thoughts. During King Jerold’s reign, his Vestry was made up of Lords whose general dispositions leant toward openness and sharing. Very little was kept secret from the other members of the court, and thus I was able to gain much knowledge. As you will remember, King Jerold felt nothing but love and friendship toward his neighbours, and thus my covert purposes in his court turned up nothing close to subversion, malevolence, or even a general negativity.

  “However, once the young Prince Harford became King, the tone of court changed, as did the makeup of his Vestry, in one important way. As you may have heard, the Sorcerer Ni’Morstrom has been granted residence within Whiterock, and a place within the King’s Vestry. As is the case here in Demaria, in Loria such an appointment is unusual, and many at court felt unease at the swiftness with which the Sorcerer moved from being an unknown to the King’s closest advisor.

  “Several of the Lords of the realm counselled the young King against having any association with the sorcerer, reminding him that the practise of having such practitioners of the arcane ceased several generations ago when it was uncovered that many of them had used magic to influence the kings they pretended
to serve.

  “Many of the young King’s decrees and decisions have gone against the advice of the majority of his Vestry, and instead followed other paths. These decisions have usually been presented to the court after the King has taken time for private reflection. Sources I have within Whiterock have reported the Sorcerer being granted admittance to the King’s chambers during these times of reflection, which precede strange decrees such as the recent one regarding the treatment and expulsion of the Elder races from Magnaville and its surrounding areas.

  “Some have theorized that the king has been placed under some sort of spell by the Sorcerer, and others have suggested that it is a case of a young and impressionable monarch being manipulated by a crafty politician. Either way, the consensus is that the young King would not make such rash moves as the expelling the Elder Folk, and executing a lord without demand for ransom or conditions for exchange, of his own accord.

  “In the court at Whiterock, it is quietly seen as a shame and a tragedy that his older brother did not take his rightful place upon the throne.” Vernon’s gaze became unfocused as his thoughts drifted to what might have been.

  The members of the Demarian Royal Council murmured and whispered to each other for several moments as the information presented by the Listener was absorbed.

  Lord Orban spoke first.

  “My Lords. Your Grace. It is clear we must respond, that much I am sure we can all agree upon. But I must urge caution and restraint. While it is true, and undeniable, that the execution of Lord Casterin, and the false blame cast upon this Kingdom for the disappearance of the Lorian Prince are inexcusable, I urge this council to consider the long term future of both Kingdoms and the prosperity through open trade that has come as a result of the generation of peace established by our great King and his former Lorian counterpart. Let us not rush to war.”