Banner Lord

by Jason L. McWhirter

  The palace gate, as was to be expected, was heavily guarded but Kitah got them through easily enough. The palace grounds, like everywhere else, were covered in snow. But one could see that they would be beautiful in spring and summer. Small ornamental trees, now bare, lined the stretch of the wall that surrounded the palace. In front of the wall was a large garden area divided into various beds by stone paths meandering through it. In the center was a small pond with a stone fountain in the shape of a large fish jumping out of the water. Although everything was now covered with a thin layer of snow, the serenity of the area was apparent, no doubt just as it would be in the summer, with blooming flowers and the sound of birds as they fluttered from tree to tree.

  When they neared the palace they could see that it appeared to be similar to all the other homes in the city, but much larger. There was nothing ornate in the structure or design. It was just a large sturdy home constructed of thick stone. Around twenty guards lined the path to the front door. Standing on the steps was an older man in gold scale mail similar to Kitah’s. But it was much more intricate, each scale a perfect representation of a leaf. He wore a long blue cape lined in white fur and at his hip was a curved long sword, its handle white like bone and beautiful carved. The design on the pommel was so intricate that one would have to inspect it closely to truly appreciate its craftsmanship. The man’s hair was completely white, like snow, and contrasted sharply to his aged red skin. Standing next to him was a much younger woman, perhaps half his age, her long black hair framing her flawless red skin and smoky dark eyes. But she was not wearing an elegant gown sparkling with jewels as one would expect. Instead, she was dressed as a warrior, wearing scale mail similar to the man next to her. But the edges of each scale were blue, the color of the fur lined cape she also wore. At her hip was a thin curved sword, the pommel blue, matching her armor exactly. They were a stunning pair and they both smiled warmly as Jarak and the group approached.

  “King Jarak Dormath,” the man announced in Newain. “Welcome to Elwyn. I am King Elwyn and this is my wife, Tearial Elywn.”

  Jarak stepped forward, standing at the base of the steps below them. “Thank you for seeing me, King Elwyn. These men and women behind me are my companions.” Jarak introduced each one by name and the king and queen nodded their heads cordially at each one.

  “Let us go inside. I have food and drink being prepared. Your mules seem to be heavily laden,” the king said, seeing the heavy chests on each animal. “Would you like help bringing the chests inside?” The king had made the obvious observation that Jarak did not want to part with the animals and what they carried. And it seemed pretty obvious that he knew why.

  “My companions will carry the chests inside with us. Thank you for the offer,” Jarak answered politely.

  King Elwyn smiled warmly. “Please follow me.”

  Brant and Endler carried one chest, Aldgar and Serix carried the second, and Orin and Kivalla the third. The guards led the mules away while they all followed the king and queen up the steps and through the large double doors.

  Once inside the entryway, which was a spacious foyer, the king and queen led them through another large set of double doors, into a huge round room, sparsely furnished, in the middle of which was a giant round table that looked as if it could seat thirty people. Two large fireplaces on opposite sides of the room burned brightly, filling the room with a warm glow. On their mantles, made from the same red wood, were carved the bodies of naked women in various graceful poses, some reclining, some strolling arm in arm, while others appeared to be dancing. The circular walls were lined with suits of armor, each piece completely different than the others. Each set was of a different design, as if the king had collected armor from the many different lands across Belorth and Corvell. There was even a suit of Saricon armor amid the collection, the red sigil of Heln adorning its breastplate. The remaining spaces along the red walls were covered with every conceivable weapon a king could procure. Clearly, King Elwyn was a collector of armaments, ancient and new.

  The large round table was unusual. The center of it had been left open, with a gap cut into it, just wide enough for servants to enter and serve the diners from the inside. It was a great design, allowing the king to serve and entertain his many guests without the servants reaching over them.

  “Please, have a seat,” the king gestured. “There are refreshments on the table. Help yourself and then we shall talk about why you are here.”

  They set the chests near one of the fires and everyone sat down, helping themselves to water, wine, and plates of cheeses and dried meats. Once their cups were full, Jarak, who sat next to the king and his wife, spoke first. “Thank you, King Elwyn for seeing us with no advanced notice.”

  The king waved his comment away. “It is my pleasure. I know what has happened to Cythera, and I’m sorry about your father and mother. In times such as these protocol is lost amongst the trials and tribulations of war.”

  “So word has reached you about the Saricon invasion?”

  “It has, which makes me wonder why one the barbarians walks with you, not bound or shackled?” He was clearly interested in Aldgar’s presence.

  “It is true,” Queen Elwyn said softly as she leaned forward to look more closely at Aldgar, “they are so big.” Then she looked at Jarak. “Are they worthy warriors?”

  Jarak nodded. “They are.” Then he addressed the king. “We captured Aldgar some time back. He killed one of his own men trying to save Ardra,” he added, looking towards the Gyth. “We kept him alive for information. He does not support what his people are doing, and has vowed to help us.”

  “Really?” the king said. “And you trust him?”

  “I do. He has earned it.”

  “Fascinating,” Queen Elwyn added. “I would like to spar with him,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  Jarak was confused and taken aback by her comment. But King Elwyn smiled, as if it were not an unusual thing to say. “Spar with him?” Jarak asked.

  “King Jarak, my wife here is quite skilled with a blade. In fact, she has no equal and craves constant martial experience. It is a desire that she cannot control.”

  Aldgar looked uncomfortable but said nothing, finding comfort in his cup of wine. Everyone listened intently to the conversation as they ate and drank.

  “Who is your greatest warrior here?” Queen Elwyn asked. “Is it the Saricon?” Everyone’s eyes turned to Brant and Queen Elwyn smiled. “Really? I would have thought the Saricon or one of the Gyths. But he does look formidable. I should like to fight him as well.”

  Brant shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but kept his eyes on the queen. She was looking at him as if he were a piece of meat. Jarak was getting annoyed. “Queen Elwyn, I am not here for sparring matches. I need your help. I want to hire your mercenary army.”

  Queen Elwyn’s eyes shifted to Jarak, and they smoldered briefly, then softened as she gave him a warm smile. She looked at her king who sat back in his chair, bringing a glass of wine to his lips. “King Dormath, help you shall have, as long as payment is sufficient. And,” she added, “I would like to fight with your best warriors. That is what we request.”

  “How many men do you need?” King Elwyn asked.

  “How many do you have for hire?”

  King Elwyn raised his eyes curiously. “Our lands are peaceful now,” he said, almost mournfully. “Quite boring really. As you know, which is why you are here, I have a large mercenary army of highly trained soldiers. I can provide ten thousand warriors. That includes a thousand cavalry, officers, and food and supplies for six months.”

  “I will take them all.”

  “Really? But you have not heard my price, which only provides for a six month campaign. After that, a new contract and further payment will be required. In addition, each of my warriors will receive five gold dracks, and ten to his family in the event of his or her death. And that does not include my fee.”

  Jarak looked at his companions. “Bring the chests
over here.”

  They got up and lifted the chests, bringing each one over by King Elwyn’s chair. Jarak stood and lifted a key from a rope around his neck. Inserting the key into the chest, he lifted the lid, exposing a mound of sparkling Kul-brite nuggets.

  King Elwyn’s eyes widened and he slid the chair out from the table. Queen Elwyn did the same, joining her king as they both stood over the chest, staring at its contents. King Elwyn knelt before the glittering mound of steel. He put his hand into the Kul-brite nuggets and lifted them gingerly, the light metal pieces falling back into the pile with a seductive jingle. He looked up at Jarak. “Are all three thus filled?”

  “They are.”

  The king stood up, his eyes reflecting awe at seeing that much Kul-brite in one place. “Are all three for me?”

  Jarak nodded. “Yes. But I want the army for a year, if I need it.”

  “Done.”

  Jarak smiled. “So we have a deal?”

  “Nearly,” the king said as he sat back down, his wife following him. “There is one more thing I require.”

  Jarak’s eyes narrowed a little, wary of where the negotiations were heading. “What else do you require?”

  “As you probably know the Way is not prevalent among our people. We have no scion forgers. Now, this Kul-brite’s value equals far more in gold than I was to ask for. But, to take advantage of it, I would like your best scion forger to make my wife and me a Kul-brite blade.” Queen Elwyn smiled at that request.

  “Agreed,” Jarak said without hesitation.

  “Good. I shall have my scribes draw up the contract. I will need a week to gather and supply the army. You are my esteemed guests in the meantime.

  “That is agreeable. Thank you for your help.”

  The king nodded. “I hope, young king, that you find victory. It is in all of our best interests that you win this war. I fear that if the Saricon war machine is not stopped, they will eventually venture north, into my lands. And I cannot let that happen. So with that in mind, my wife and I will be traveling with you. We will help lead this army. We will help you win your kingdom back.” Queen Elwyn smiled as she reached over and squeezed the king’s hand. It was quite clear that she was more than happy about his decision to accompany them.

  Jarak was surprised. He wasn’t sure if it was good thing or not, but clearly he could not tell him what to do with his own army. King Elwyn had the upper hand on the negotiations as it was Jarak who needed his help. Besides, he would have his hands full leading his own army. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “You will leave your own kingdom behind?”

  “My brother will rule in my stead. I am old and bored. And as you shall soon see, my wife was born for war. I think she loves it even more than I.”

  Queen Elwyn smiled at her husband. “Oh husband, do not exaggerate so.” But she said nothing to deny his claim.

  “Well, now that we have the negotiations out of the way, let us eat dinner and then have some fun,” the king said. “Who would like to fight first, the Saricon, or the stern looking man with the scars?”

  Soon after they completed the negotiations, servants cleared the appetizers and brought out the main meal. Everyone was famished and they ate heartily. The King bragged about his cook and the braised goat in a broth of potatoes, carrots, and onions, did not disappoint. They finished off the hearty food with thick slices of warm bread smeared with rosemary butter. It was the perfect meal after a long day of riding. Once they were finished, King Elwyn led them around the room, showing them all of the rare and magnificent weapons and armor he had collected over the years. They talked for nearly an hour before he led them to a room located on the second floor of the estate. As the weather was cool, a large fire had been built on one side of the room, the huge logs already burning brightly when they entered. The room was square and quite large, the floor covered in smooth square tiles that had been glazed in various shades of red. Along one wall was a weapons rack containing every conceivable weapon, some they had never before seen. Lined up against the opposite wall were fifteen chairs made from a hard black wood, their legs and backs expertly carved to represent climbing vines and flowers. The cushions were wrapped in plush blue velvet. Between each chair a small round table had been placed, upon which servants were laying trays of what looked like some sort of fruit torte as well as pitchers of wine and water with glasses for all.

  “Please, have a seat,” King Elwyn said, gesturing to the chairs against the wall.

  Queen Elwyn, who had departed earlier while the king was showing off his collection, had since returned and was now standing near the weapons rack. But she looked very different now, and everyone stared at her openly. She wore a short blue shirt wrapped tightly around her small breasts, leaving her arms and torso bare, and revealing her petite, yet heavily muscled body, appearing every bit the warrior. Several scars were visible on her arms, and on her shoulder a particularly noticeable one stood out, a round, white scar, looking to be the result of a serious puncture wound, standing out sharply against her reddish skin. Tight leggings completed her wardrobe, the soft and flexible material made to hug her body without hindering her movement. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, interwoven with silken cords of blue that dangled against her strong back.

  She was stunning, and the king was well aware of it, smiling broadly as if he were proudly showing off one of his ancient swords. Even Jarak couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and Cat, who sat next to him, nudged him with her elbow. Looking chagrined, he smiled like a child caught with his hands in his mother’s sweets jar. “Perhaps I should fight her,” she whispered in his ear.

  He smiled awkwardly and placed his hand on her leg, squeezing it gently as he turned to address the king who sat next to him. “Where did your wife learn to fight?”

  “In Marast all are taught to fight at a young age. If a female shows skill, they continue their training in lieu of bearing children. Her father was a great warrior himself; in fact it was he who taught me to use a blade.”

  “What happened to him?” Cat asked.

  “An enemy’s arrow took him in the neck.” The king shrugged. “War is fickle. You may be the best, yet still take an unlucky spear in the chest. One never knows when their time is up. Now, why don’t we have the Saricon spar with her first?”

  Aldgar looked over at Jarak who nodded his head. The large warrior stood up and Ardra helped him remove his armor until he was wearing nothing but his leggings. His arms and long torso were layered with muscle and he looked as formidable as one could.

  Tearial stepped closer to him and motioned to the weapons rack. “The weapons have been blunted. Please, pick one.”

  Aldgar said nothing as he stepped towards the rack. He perused the weapons, lifting them to test their weight and balance, finally choosing a long two handed great sword before stepping back to the middle of the room. Tearial had picked a short spear with blades on either end. It was a strange weapon, but she held like it was not new to her. Aldgar spun the huge sword about easily, loosening up his arms and muscles.

  “What are the rules?” Brant asked King Elwyn as Aldgar warmed up.

  “First to three wins. A body strike gains a point, while any hit to an arm or leg is half a point. No head strikes are allowed, but if one is indicated, the fight is over.”

  Tearial stepped to the middle. “You ready, Saricon?”

  He nodded. “Rules?” he asked. She repeated what King Elwyn had said.

  “Let us begin,” she announced confidently, stepping back into a low crouch, her spear-like weapon held across her neck. She looked like a child fighting a giant. Then she attacked.

  The weapon spun before her so quickly that it sounded like the vortex of a strong whirlwind, the silver blade flashing as it darted in towards Aldgar. Swinging the great sword much faster than one thought possible, he used his great strength to block the initial attack, but then she came in low under the arc of a swing, slapping the inside of his leg with the blade and spinn
ing away quickly, her foot following the spin and smacking him again, hard on the wrist as he tried to bring his sword around for a follow up strike.

  Aldgar growled like an animal and came at her again, his long sword arcing powerfully through the air. And although the weapons were blunted, if he struck her the force would surely break bones. Dodging and ducking, Tearial expertly avoided the attacks, and instead of backing away from them like any sane person would, she pushed forward, positioned the spear between Aldgar’s legs, and using it like a fulcrum, she shoved her shoulder into his body. He fell backwards, his legs, trapped by the angle of her spear, unable to find his footing. He landed hard on his back, and Tearial stood over him, the point of her spear pressed against his neck.

  King Elwyn clapped as Tearial stepped back from Aldgar. The Saricon stood up, his face flushed, his hand gripping the sword in frustration, barely able to contain his rage at such humiliation. Saricons were not known for their graceful acceptance of defeat, and Tearial eyed him warily, prepared to defend herself if he were to attack her, even though the fight was over. But he maintained control, restraining himself, and she turned her back to him and walked back to her end of the room.

  “Well done, my dear!” the king exclaimed. “She is quite extraordinary, don’t you agree?” he asked, looking over at Jarak.

  Avoiding Cat’s steely gaze, Jarak looked at the king. “Yes, she is. That was incredible.”

  The king smiled with pleasure, before turning to face Brant. “Now, Brant, would you care to try your skill?”

  Brant stood up and moved to the other side of the room. Ardra helped him remove his cuirass and shoulder guard until he too stood bare chested. He pulled the necklace that Ari had given him over his head and handed it to Ardra. Aldgar was big and strong, but Brant was the epitome of physical excellence. His muscles were dense and powerful, the absence of fat revealing striations and veins across his shoulders, arms, and chest. The dark hair spread across his chest failed to hide the many scars decorating its muscled landscape. And neither the hair nor the many scars could hide the six Schulg sigils burned across his thick chest. In fact, since his dark hair could not grow on the scar tissue, they stood out even more, silhouetted by the hair around them.