by Sam Ferguson
“Pincer formation!” Kelden yelled and immediately five soldiers charged towards the farthest left raider and five other soldiers charged at the raider on the farthest right.
The raiders had been charging in one straight line, but now they broke into two groups of seven to fight Kelden’s men. Seeing the two groups Kelden motioned for his remaining ten guards to advance. They raced up the middle, between the two groups of raiders dividing themselves into two more groups of five, each attacking one of the groups of raiders and effectively surrounding each.
Steel clanged against steel. Grunts, yells, and screams cut through the air as the desert sand was churned into a large cloud of blood-tinted dust. From Kelden’s viewpoint all seemed to be in slow motion. His men were prevailing easily and the raiders were falling, painting the desert sand with Tarthun blood. Then something caught Kelden’s eye. It was the pair of dwarves, both of them running towards the fray with battle axes at the ready. Kelden shook his head and galloped after the pair, thinking they might get hurt.
He quickly cast those worries aside however as the two dwarves jumped at one of the raiders. Both of them hacked the man down with effortless teamwork. Quickly, they moved on to the next raider, and then the next after that. They barreled through their foes like a pair of axe-wielding boulders. Kelden just shook his head as he came to understand the reasoning for Redbeard’s nickname.
Within moments it was over. There were no casualties among Kelden’s men. A few guards received some minor blows, but nothing major. Redbeard and Pinhead ambled back slowly, laughing all the while as each of Kelden’s men looked down to the pair with a mix of confusion and admiration.
Farther away, Pendonov stood in his stirrups and shouted “Sir, what of them?” Pendonov pointed at a few raiders who had been knocked from their horses by the first volley of arrows and were now running away.
“Let the desert be their judge.” Kelden replied. “Justice will visit its own, as will vengeance.” A few of his men nodded their understanding as they trotted their horses back and resumed formation around the caravan. “Once again, let us head out.” Kelden ordered, and the caravan was on its way to Rasselin.
The rest of the trip was calm, and even with the small holdup they were able to get the merchants to Rasselin on schedule.
When the caravan arrived, Rasselin city guards called out to the caravan from the tops of the large towers of the desert city.
“I am Captain Ferryl of the Merchant Guard, escorting this merchant caravan from Kobhir,” Kelden shouted back. He pulled out the manifest and motioned for Pendonov to accompany him as he galloped ahead to meet the gate keepers.
A pair of soldiers walked forward, holding large pikes at the ready. “Hail, good sir,” one of them said with a raised hand. “Travel papers, if you please.”
Kelden halted his horse and handed over the manifest.
The guards looked it over and then glanced up to the caravan. Satisfied, they turned and waved to the tower. Kelden heard a series of shouts, but couldn’t make out the words.
“All appears to be in order,” the guards said. “Enjoy your stay in Rasselin.” The steel portcullis was raised to let the group inside the foreboding walls.
Kelden nodded and gave the order for the caravan to enter the gates. Once inside, Kelden’s men halted and let the merchants pass ahead of them towards the city center.
“We is grateful to ya!” Redbeard shouted as the merchants continued on their way. Kelden waved and nodded.
“Perhaps we will meet again,” Pinhead called out. Kelden waived again, and then turned to address his men.
“Guards, you have leave for the night. Use it to rest yourselves and your horses. Also be sure to procure provisions for the return trip. Meet with Lieutenant Pendonov here at the southern gate at first light. You are dismissed.” With that the Merchant Guards rode off in different directions, eager to find rest and entertainment.
Kelden hitched his horse to a post at the gate and entered the guard tower. He climbed the spiral staircase until he reached the lookout room. It was little more than a flat wooden deck with a roof supported by four corner posts. A handrail ran between the posts at waist height, to prevent a guard from accidentally stepping off of the platform. Otherwise the platform was bare. No table, chairs, or anything else.
Standing at the post was a member of the Rasselin City Guard. The guard was tall and Kelden could tell by the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes that he had spent several years squinting at the hot desert sands. The guard turned to regard him, and relaxed once he saw the Merchant Guard sigil on Kelden’s uniform.
“It is a nice viewpoint you have from here,” Kelden offered as he looked out across the vast expanse of sand to the south.
“Yes. Now if only the view was good as well, then it would be nice,” chuckled the guard.
“I agree.” Kelden smiled. “I have always preferred green landscapes and blue ocean waves to the endless, yellow desert sands. How long have you worked this post?”
“I have been a member of the Rasselin City Guard for about seven years now. I have been on tower duty for the last three years.” He leaned back against the railing of the platform. “I was a patrolman in the streets for the first four years. I’m hoping to get promoted to Ranger status by the end of the year.”
“That would be a good promotion,” Kelden stated. “The Rangers of Rasselin are well known as being the best swordsmen in all of Zinferth. Their other skills are a force to be reckoned with as well.”
The guard nodded. “They have brought the sword of justice to almost every villain foolish enough to come within their reach. That is exactly why I want to join with them. I want to be with the best.”
“Can you pass the weapons aptitude test?” Kelden inquired. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against a corner post as he eyed the guard.
“Well, I can hit any target within a hundred yards with my bow. I am undefeated with the sword, and I can nail a mouse at twenty feet with my throwing dagger.”
“That is impressive, I wish you success,” Kelden said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. My name is Kelden.”
The guard nodded, “Yes, I saw the list of Merchant Guards arriving today, you are the captain, correct?”
Kelden nodded.
The guard smiled. “My name is Murdok. I was born and raised in Shinder, a little village nestled in the mountains to the southwest of here.”
“Nice to meet you Murdok of Shinder,” Kelden said with a smile.
“The pleasure is mine, sir. You may not realize this, but your reputation precedes you, sir.”
“For what am I famous?” Kelden laughed a little as he unfolded his arms and grabbed the rail next to him.
“You can’t be serious? It isn’t every day someone single handedly puts down an insurrection!” Murdok seemed to have the excitement of a young boy who had met his childhood hero.
Kelden glanced down at the floor. “That is not public knowledge,” Kelden said calmly.
Murdok shrugged. “It’s hard to keep it a secret when someone like Theodorus is caught planning to assassinate the queen. Besides, with the current hostilities with Shausmat, there are bits of information that float around within Rasselin, if you know where to look.”
“Maybe you will make a good Ranger after all, Murdok.” Kelden said.
“I hope so. It would be an honor to work alongside you some day.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kelden said with a nod. Then there were a few moments of silence as they both got caught up in their thoughts. Kelden smiled and waved as he went back down the stairs. Murdok returned the gesture by nodding his head, and then turned his attention back to watching the desert.
Kelden marched over to the governor’s house. As he approached the front entrance a thin middle-aged gentleman greeted him.
“My master expects you, sir,” the man said in a nasal voice. “Please follow me to the preferre
d entrance.” Kelden followed the man and they walked around to the side of the great, white building and entered a side door that only government officials used. Once inside he was met by a pair of guards. They nodded to the middle-aged man, who then turned and exited the building, closing the door behind him. The guards then nodded to Kelden and pointed to a large wooden table. Kelden knew that they wanted his weapons placed there while he visited with Governor Gandle, the queen’s cousin.
“I have only my sword on me at the moment,” Kelden announced as he undid his belt.
“No daggers or crossbows?” one of the guards asked suspiciously.
“No, I left my other weapons with my horse.” Kelden laid his sword on the table as gently as though it was a living being, then he approached the two guards and held his arms out to the side.
“Just a formality, sir,” the first guard said as he patted Kelden down.
“Can’t be too careful these days,” the other guard put in.
“That’s alright,” Kelden said, although he found the ordeal to be insulting considering his latest mission for the queen.
“Alright, you can follow me, sir,” the first guard said after he finished the inspection.
The guard escorted Kelden through a large waiting area where an old man sat with a leg crossed over his left knee. The man nodded briskly, but said nothing as Kelden and the guard passed through the room.
“Who was that?” Kelden asked.
“Just another one of Governor Gandle’s advisors. He is going to meet with him after you, sir.”
Kelden nodded, but said nothing more as the guard led him through a few more rooms and hallways. Finally they stopped inside of a library. The guard motioned for Kelden to take a seat and then he exited the room and closed the large door.
Kelden looked at the chair, but he did not sit. Instead, he turned his attention to the walls that were lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves. Books of all sizes filled each shelf. The majority seemed to be written in common tongue, judging by their titles, though Kelden hadn’t heard of most of them before. Every few shelves, Kelden would stumble across books with titles written in foreign languages. Kelden assumed that some of them were written in the language of the elves, Taish, but he could not be sure.
Kelden smiled when he came across a small, green book. He pulled it from the shelf and began to thumb through the pages. As he occupied himself with the book, the library’s door opened and Governor Gandle entered the room.
“Do you read much, captain?” Gandle inquired sarcastically.
Kelden startled and quickly put the book back on the shelf. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be intrusive.”
“Come, does snooping through another man’s belongings make someone intrusive?” Governor Gandle replied.
Kelden regarded the Governor carefully. He had not expected the queen’s cousin to be as old as Gandle appeared. The governor was bald, with a white beard adorning his chin. His blue eyes seemed as cold as his voice, but he was not physically imposing. He was tall, roughly six feet, but he was thin and frail. Yet, despite his lack of stature the sardonic manner with which he spoke combined with his icy gaze was enough to make the captain squirm inside.
“Forgive me, it was a story that my mother used to read to me as a child,” Kelden said with a slight bow of his head.
“Indeed,” Gandle bristled. “Come, let us sit by the hearth.”
Kelden looked to a pair of large, red chairs that sat flanking a small wooden table in front of the fireplace. There was no fire, but Kelden thought it best not to point that out. He walked over to the chair that Governor Gandle pointed to and promptly sat down. He then waited for a few moments while Gandle slowly eased his rickety bones into the other chair.
“Cursed old age,” Gandle muttered. “I live in the middle of a desert, and still I am cold.” The governor shook his head and looked at the two logs in the fireplace. Then he looked to Kelden.
Kelden wondered if the governor wanted him to go and build a fire, but Gandle killed the notion with a ring of a small brass bell from the table. Instantly the door opened again and a young, well-dressed man came in and hastily built a fire. Kelden watched as the young man pushed a red footstool under Gandle’s left leg and then left the room without so much as a word between the two of them.
“I value silence,” Gandle remarked, as if he had noted Kelden’s reaction. “I surround myself with men who are competent and do not need to be told what to do.”
Kelden nodded, but said nothing.
“I suppose my cousin told you why we were to meet?” Gandle cackled.
“Her majesty expressed concern that an attempt on your life may have been part of Theodorus’ plan. Her theory is that…”
“I know what her theory is,” Gandle interrupted. “She assumes that because someone wanted to kill her and her son that someone would also try to kill me. She sent me a letter stating as much.”
“I am to ask if you would like me to investigate the matter,” Kelden said bluntly. He was quickly growing tired of the governor’s demeanor.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Gandle crossed his bony arms over his thin chest and looked into the fire. “I am too old to care about someone else trying to kill me. I wake up in the morning with bones so stiff that I can barely get out of the bed. Why should I care if someone else wants to end my misery?”
Kelden blinked hard at the governor and shrugged his shoulders.
“The truth is I am not much longer for this world. Perhaps you will tell her that when you return tomorrow.”
“Are you sick?” Kelden asked.
“No, but I have felt the cold fingers of death clutching at my soul for many months now. It won’t be much longer. I can feel it.”
“Is there anything else that I can do for you then?” Kelden asked.
“Just deliver this letter back to the queen,” Gandle replied. He produced a letter from the folds of his robes and set it on the table. “And don’t you go snooping again. I expect you to deliver the letter with the seal intact.”
“I will do precisely that, sir,” Kelden replied.
“One more thing,” Gandle said.
“What is it?”
“Get me that book you were reading before I came in.”
Kelden walked over and retrieved the book from the shelf. He rubbed the cover with his thumb and then brought it to the governor. Gandle opened the cover and flipped through a few of the pages.
“Your mother read this book to you?”
“Yes, all of the time,” Kelden replied.
“I wasn’t aware that peasants owned books,” Gandle said.
“We owned a few, sir, but nothing like the library you have.”
“Of course not,” Gandle replied with disdain. A few moments passed and then Gandle leaned forward in his chair and looked Kelden in the eyes. “You like this book?”
“Very much so sir, it holds very fond memories for me,” Kelden replied.
Gandle flipped the book into the fireplace and watched as the flames licked at its pages until they took hold. “You are dismissed, captain.” Gandle rang the bell again and the door opened. The two guards entered the room and motioned for Kelden to follow them.
Kelden was roughly escorted out of the manor. He was still bewildered by Gandle’s contemptuous behavior. Kelden settled on the idea that perhaps it was a combination of the man’s age and the queen’s overbearing concern for his safety, though that hardly seemed to be as agonizing as the governor portrayed.
Before long, he found himself wandering into the marketplace to buy provisions for the return trip. He knew that his lieutenant would already be buying enough food and drink for the both of them though, so it wasn’t necessary to purchase supplies at all. Pendonov was always going the extra mile to ensure that Kelden had everything he needed. It was one of his most admirable traits. Kelden had often thought that Pendonov would make a fine captain someday, and he took care to put such thoughts in writing when it came time to tur
n in official reviews of Pendonov’s performance.
Kelden smiled at a merchant who was holding up a large coconut, yelling that its milk was guaranteed to be the sweetest he had ever tasted. Kelden dug into a small coin purse and purchased the coconut. He knew it was not going to be as fresh as what he could get for himself on the beaches near Kobhir, but it was better than nothing. The merchant sliced off the top with a large machete and poured the milk into a cup. Kelden took the drink and moved on down the street, pushing through throngs of people that had gathered around a shrine to Basei, the demigod of war. A priest of Basei stood in their midst giving a sermon. Kelden stopped and listened to the priest for a while out of curiosity.
“Only Basei can protect you from the calamities of the world,” the priest shouted with a wide sweep of his arms. “Only he can grant you the strength to defeat your enemies, and only he can give you the fortune to survive the harsh desert outside these walls.”
Some members of the crowd shouted in praise, while others ranted at the priest and called him a fool. Kelden found the whole scene amusing. He followed the Old Gods, Icadion and his sons to be exact, so the priest’s rhetoric held little more than entertainment value for him. Yet, he was open-minded enough that if opportunity arose to experience something different, he would take advantage of it.
“If you want Basei’s blessing, you must worship him, and give sacrifices to him,” the priest continued. “He will reward the faithful, but his wrath will be quick against the slothful and those who shun his ways.”
Kelden was about to leave, but he caught sight of another man approaching the crowd with a determined gait. It was a priest of Icadion, Kelden could tell by the white, hooded robes, adorned with gold trim along the sides and sleeves. The telltale design of a large, golden sun on the front of the robe commanded respect from any follower of the Old Gods. The priest walked through the crowd with his hands clasped behind his back. He needed only to nod his head in order to part the crowd enough for his passage.
Basei’s priest folded his arms across his chest and sneered down at Icadion’s priest. The man in white robes stopped a few feet before the priest of Basei and slowly took in the crowd around him before pulling his hood back to reveal thick, silver hair set over fierce blue eyes and a sturdy jaw.