The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher

by VanMeter, Jeffery

  “Well, my lady. I’m not sure what you have planned for me. But if this is to be my last night in this world, I am grateful for the time you have given me. I am also grateful my father did not live to see me die in such a way. He tried so hard to teach me to be a good and honorable man and I will not use the excuse of the life I was born to as an excuse for how I became nothing more than a starving poacher. But if he is waiting for me on the other side, I hope he can forgive me for a life that amounted to nothing.”

  As he finished his prayer, he saw a shooting star streak across the heavens. And then for reasons he would never fully understand, he felt a wave of good feelings wash across him almost like a warm, gentle wave. Suddenly, he felt that everything was going to be alright and that everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

  Chapter Two

  As was his custom, Captain Krall woke before the rest of his men. Walking through the encampment, he looked at the young faces of his soldiers sleeping peacefully on the ground. Mere children, he thought to himself. They had no idea of the realities of being a soldier. They were only pretending, he thought; only playacting at being warriors. He’d served for thirty years. He left his family’s farm looking for adventure and had served in two wars; facing and killing both men and beasts. In his dreams and in days where there was no sound, he could still hear the screams of men he knew, friends he’d seen dying around him. His scars still ached and burned from wounds suffered many years before. How many of these mere boys would die in a real conflict, he asked himself? How many would he send to their deaths by his own command?

  Then he found himself standing over the three young boys captured for poaching. They were three more children, he thought; three hungry boys simply hunting food. But there was something about the leader of this group; and he was definitely their leader. There was something familiar about him. His young face, black, curly hair and dark eyes seemed somewhat familiar; like someone he once knew a long time ago. He felt a stab of sadness in his bones at the thought. But he couldn’t quite place the face he thought he knew.

  “Something on your mind, sir?” His Sergeant asked.

  “You’re up early.” He answered.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a Sergeant if I didn’t wake with my Captain. Besides, the only way to get hot coffee around here is to make it yourself.” He then handed the Captain a steaming cup.

  “That’s for sure.” The Captain said.

  “Is that a smile on your face, sir?”

  “I permit myself at least one a day.”

  Captain Krall sighed deeply.

  “Why do you think they were poaching?” He asked his Sergeant.

  “One look at these three and I’d say it was because they were hungry.”

  “Precisely. I’d be willing to bet these three haven’t had a decent meal in a month.”

  “We’ve been hearing reports of at least twenty deer taken in the last three weeks, sir.”

  “They’ve probably got families to feed somewhere in that forest.”

  “You’re not thinking of letting them go, are you sir?”

  The Captain then took a thoughtful drink from his cup.

  “The law applies to everyone or no one.” He said. “That includes starving peasants.”

  Kenner stirred from his light sleep to find two soldiers staring at him.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked them.

  “You have a lot of defiance for a young man tied hand and foot.” The Sergeant said to him. He could tell his rank by the letter “S” on his right shoulder.

  “Cut me loose and I’ll show how defiant I can be.”

  In truth, Kenner was afraid; more afraid than he could remember being in a long time. But he wasn’t about to let a company of Walechian soldiers know that. The Sergeant approached him and he tried to raise himself.

  “We could have killed you where we found you.” The Sergeant told him. “Lucky for you our Captain has this strange notion that even poachers deserve justice.”

  “If it’s the same justice I’ve seen with my eyes,” Kenner growled, “then you can keep it.”

  “What have you seen?” The Captain said, almost angrily.

  “Let me see,” Kenner began with a sarcastic tone; “I’ve seen livestock stolen or simply killed for sport. I’ve seen women raped, old men and young boys murdered. Should I go on?”

  The Captain then stood directly over Kenner.

  “When have you seen these things?”

  “Throughout my life; all from soldiers bearing the Great Tower on their armor.”

  Captain Krall was angered but not surprised at these accusations. He’d heard many stories of soldiers going into the villages in the woods and committing crimes. Very few had ever been caught and even fewer punished. It sickened him to think that some who wore the same uniform he so proudly wore could stoop so low; but there was nothing he could do. He could only control the men who served directly under his own command.

  “I assure you,” Krall said, trying to sound comforting, “you will be judged fairly and justly.”

  Kenner was not convinced, though there was something in the Captain’s voice that sounded honest.

  “You can do what you want with me,” he said. “But my cousins are innocent. I hunted the stag and I shot it. I’m the only one who should be punished.”

  When the sun rose, the company of soldiers was awoken from their slumber. As the soldiers ate breakfast and began to break camp, Kenner’s cousins awoke as well.

  “What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Belfor asked

  “I don’t know,” Kenner answered, though he felt it a lie. He didn’t feel it wise to tell his two younger cousins that they were likely about to die. The Captain, he thought sounded sincere when he said that they would be judged fairly. Unfortunately, Kenner knew that the Captain was not to be their judge.

  His father had told him all about Walechian “justice.” The rich were allowed to indulge in their most degraded wills while the, once famous Walechian courts looked the other way. At the same time, the poorer the ordinary citizen of Walechia, the more likely they would die for the least offense. The most “justice” a poor man or woman of Walechia could hope for was to waste away in prison or to be cast out; banished to the hills or badlands that bordered the Walechian nation.

  The three young men were given water and army “hard tack,” a kind of bread used for rations for breakfast while the soldiers ate the rest of the venison from yesterday’s stag. It was the first time in nearly a year that Kenner could remember eating two days in a row. They were tied to three horses; Kenner himself tied to the horse of the Captain, and then led back towards the looming walls of the White City.

  Chapter Three

  By early afternoon, they had reached the main road leading into the city. The hard packed clay crunched underneath their feet as Kenner and his cousins were led behind the horsemen. Looking back, he could see his cousin Malton, only fifteen years old limping badly. He looked at his bare feet and saw open sores bleeding.

  “My cousin’s feet are bleeding.” He called out to the Captain. “Let us have a moment’s rest so I can give him my boots.”

  The Captain turned and looked at Kenner.

  “Your boots are too big for him,” he said. “It’ll only make his feet worse.”

  A mile outside the city, the imposing, sloping stone walls towered over the company nearly obscuring the Great Tower within. A long line of people stood along the road, all waiting to enter the massive gate. Captain Krall called to one of the soldiers standing along the road.

  “What’ going on?” He asked.

  “It’s market day,” The soldier answered.

  Captain Krall nodded.

  Once a week, farmers and merchants entered the city to sell their goods. On a good day, the line to enter the gates could stretch for five miles along the main road. Times had been lean in recent years. There had been draught. Crops had failed. Livestock had died. People were be
ginning to go hungry. With fewer goods being bought and sold in the city, the wealthy began to horde food, paying higher prices which prevented many poorer citizens from being able to buy such for themselves and their families.

  There were some who saw these events as signs of the coming of the end of the peaceful times since the end of the last Great War. Prophets filled the streets of Wallachia cities and traveled from town to town and village to village. They told of a new time of trouble leading to another great war and perhaps even the return of King Farraday himself. They offered prayers to the spirits and the Great Lady of the Sky. They offered purification for the sins of the people and healing of the sick; often for a price.

  The enormous gate stood one hundred feet tall. The giant Blackwood doors were five feet thick and thirty feet wide and required two teams of horses each to open and close them. Carved into the wood was a giant emblem of the Great Tower. Stories were told that the gates were not built, but rather grown from two mammoth Blackwood trees. They were given to city as a gift from the Lady of the Blackwoods; one of the three kings and one queen. Standing before them, Kenner felt small and almost helpless. He’d heard many tales of enemies being thrown back from the gates as even the most colossal battering rams; some even made of metal were smashed by the impenetrable gate. Now, here he was entering the gate, feeling as if a gigantic maw was swallowing him whole.

  The White City seemed alive. More people than Kenner had ever seen moved along its broad streets seemingly like water in vast rivers and the noise was almost deafening. Close to him, Kenner could hear merchants calling out to their customers trying to sell their goods. He could smell the fruit in the carts of the farmers, breads, smoked meats and wines.

  At the end of the broadest street was an impressive fountain shooting water fifty feet high at the center of a large pool. Thousands stood around the fountain or sat along its iron railings. He saw several children playing in the pool before a soldier ordered their parents to remove them. Behind the pool was an immense complex of buildings built of the same white stone as the walls and tower. With tall pillars and shining domes they formed a circle around the base of the Great Tower stretching into the sky. Kenner’s neck strained as he tried to gaze up to the very peak of the tower. The sun blazed at the top of the Tower, burning his eyes.

  Captain Krall saw a familiar face in the crowd.

  “General Pol!” He called out.

  An older man in shining armor and wearing a white cape heard him and approached his horse.

  “Krall!” He called out. “Did you have good hunting?”

  “Just these three boys.” Krall answered, gesturing to his captives.

  The General approached the company and then looked over Kenner and his cousins smiling.

  “An awfully lean catch,” He said. “I’d throw them back.”

  Several soldier laughed.

  “I need to find a good judge,” Krall said seriously. The General then turned back to Krall.

  “There are plenty of judges to be found,” he said. “A good one may be asking a bit much.”

  “Who are these children anyway?” General Pol asked.

  “Poachers.”

  Pol gave a pained expression.

  “That makes it even more difficult. With weak crops and people starting to go hungry, most of the judges in this city aren’t looking kindly on people who steal food. “

  “These three were stealing food because they were hungry.” Krall said, pleading their case.

  “I doubt that would matter. Just yesterday, a young man who stole a loaf of bread had one of his hands cut off.”

  “What about Judge Cremnall?” Krall asked.

  “He’s hearing fifty cases today alone.”

  “Judge Mytor?”

  “Not in the city.”

  “Judge Maise then?”

  “Unfortunately, she’s still dead.”

  While the two soldiers talked to each other, Kenner took the opportunity to examine his two cousins. Malton, he could see could barely stand, while Belfor insisted that he was fine.

  “What do you think they’ll do to us?” Belfor asked.

  “I still don’t know.” Kenner answered.

  “Will they kill us?”

  “In the last five seconds, I haven’t learned anything new.”

  “This isn’t funny!” Belfor exclaimed. He was loud enough to be heard over the noise of the city and the Sergeant turned and glared at them.

  “Keep quiet you three.” He growled.

  Suddenly there was a commotion in the city. Trumpets blared. The mob parted like the sea and another company of horsemen bearing banners came galloping from around the fountain.

  “Make way for the prince!” Someone shouted.

  Captain Krall and his company quickly began moving to one side, pulling their prisoners with them.

  The Prince and his guards paraded down the streets, shoving people aside and nearly running over several, including a small child. They had nearly passed Captain Krall’s company when the Prince turned and looked at them. He stopped and pulled his horse around. He then approached Captain Krall. The Captain and all of his horsemen immediately dismounted and then the whole company kneeled before him. Kenner and his cousins were grabbed roughly by the soldiers.

  “Get down you filth!” One commanded as they were forced to kneel.

  Kenner looked up and inspected the Prince of Walechia. He seemed the same age as himself, though his face had no beard and his long, blonde hair was clean as if washed that same day. He had a lean, bony face, two almost square eyes and a malicious smile on his thin lips. He was riding a beautiful, white stallion and wearing leather armor made perfectly for him. His long, black cape was draped over the rump of his horse.

  “Captain Krall,” He said almost as a song. “What have we here?”

  “Three suspects.” The Captain answered uneasily. “I was discussing with General Pol that we were in search of a judge.”

  The Prince pulled his stallion around and approached the three young men. The soldier holding Kenner pushed his head down lower. Even though he couldn’t see, he could sense the Prince examining him.

  “In search of a judge, are you?” The Prince continued. “Luckily for you, as Crown Prince, I am a judge.”

  Captain Krall answered him almost pleadingly.

  “I’m sure Your Highness is far too busy…”

  “Nonsense,” The Prince interrupted. “I always have time to meet out justice.”

  Kenner and his cousins were then hurried along a road leading around the huge pool and fountain. They reached the largest of the buildings at the base of the Tower. There were stone steps leading to a platform with gleaming, white pillars rising high to a stone roof. Carved into the face of the stone façade were the words “True Justice Is a Single Candle in a Dark World.” Hundreds of people lined the steps leading into and out of the huge structure and all seemed to be staring at the procession being led by the Prince. Kenner could feel their eyes studying him and judging him. He was afraid again; not for himself, for he was not afraid of death. He was afraid for his young cousins; whose safety he had been charged.

  Inside the building they were led through a dense throng of people through a wide hall. They all parted in the path of the Prince and his guards. Kenner could hear their voices. Some sounded like pity. Others laughed. At the end of the hall were two large doors which were swung open by two guards large enough to be giants, Kenner thought. The doors opened to another large room and the Prince and his company marched in to it.

  After being led into the chamber, the doors shut loudly behind them and the noise of the crowd went nearly silent. The floor was polished marble that Kenner could nearly see his reflection in. It had a high vaulted ceiling with a mural of a battle. Men and beasts were painted in dramatic style, riding horses, wielding swords and other weapons in the air. Along both two walls of the hall were statues that Kenner supposed to be former Kings of Walechia. Some were “dressed” in ro
bes and scholarly expressions. Some were like warriors with swords and axes. At the end of the chamber at the top of marble steps was a wooden thrown standing empty.

  Near one of the statues, Kenner could see the outline of the familiar silhouette of the shadow that often appeared to him. As he looked to it, he nearly tripped over himself.

  Standing before the steps, the Prince stopped and turned. Kenner and his cousins were brought before him and forced again to kneel.

  “Alright,” The Prince said grandly. “What are these three wretched souls guilty of?”

  “Your Highness,” Captain Krall answered uneasily. “They are accused of poaching.”

  “Poaching? Really?”

  The Prince sounded almost pleased.

  “And what were they poaching?”

  “Deer.” Captain Krall answered.

  “Oh my,” The Prince sighed. He then stood directly over the three young men. “Poaching my deer, were you? That is a serious offense.”

  He then stood in front of Captain Krall.

  “And how many of my deer did they poach?”

  “We caught them with one stag.”

  “Did you? So you witnessed them killing the stag?”

  “Yes, I did, Your Highness, but…”

  “Were there other witnesses to this offense?”

  Captain Krall nodded.

  “Yes, Your Highness. All of the men of my company saw them.”