by Sigrid Kraft
I am Eryn Bloodhand, a warrior of the Fenn. The Gods of nature may protect me on my way. Their doctrine is the only truth. Magic is wrong and sacrilegious. I won’t turn from the Gods and serve evil!
Suddenly the Prince burst out in laughter: “Bloodhand. What a primitive name. And the Fenn? Aren’t they those savages in the mountains?”
He is reading my thoughts. The realization dawned on Eryn, and as if in confirmation, a voice replied in his head:
“Yes, I am, with no problem and with the aid of sacrilegious magic!” Then Prince Raiden continued in normal speech: “And your belief in apple and pear trees is the true path? That almost sounds like a story Nurin would tell. Well, fool, before I lose patience with so much poppycock, do you have anything more intelligent to tell me?”
Eryn pressed his lips into a thin line. I have nothing to say to you, filthy mage.
Strokes like whiplashes began to pound Eryn and he doubled up in agony. When he couldn’t stand it any more, he started roaring out his pain at the top of his lungs. Mentally, Eryn prayed to his Gods for strength. How long the punishment lasted, he couldn’t tell. Neither did he notice when the Prince left the cell, nor how he had come to be chained to the wall again. In the solitude, Eryn started to cry. More a sniffle without tears, but he knew he was crying.
To be brave in a fight is one thing, but to be tortured in a cell, a completely different matter. The test the Gods impose on me is hard.
Later on a soldier brought some food and water and placed it on the floor before Eryn. The young Fenn looked at the simple meal and thought: I could reject it.
But his hands started taking the bread and brought the food to his mouth.
A spell – what else? They don’t want me to starve. What a kind gesture. They take good care of my health so that I won’t happen to die. Eryn still felt a sharp pain when he coiled up to sleep. The night passed and when he awoke, all the pain was gone – just as if it never had been there.
At the Prince’s next visit, he waved the chains away. Now that Eryn had learned how useless his attempts at resistance were, he just remained seated, which seemed to annoy the Black Prince even more than Eryn’s unavailing attack of the day before.
“Get up when your Prince enters the room, blockhead!”
“Does it make a difference? And you are not ‘my Prince’ either,” Eryn rebelled wearily.
The response was an immediate smack on both cheeks. “Once again, you forgot the salutation and your statement is wrong, too. Mistakes in both courtesy and content. I am indeed your Prince because the mountains in the north up to the border of the Nimrod have belonged to Ardeen since time immemorial. It was just that for a long time, no one was really interested in that useless piece of land and what was going on there. But with the discovery of the gate, everything changed. At that point, it suddenly turned out that my ungrateful subjects forgot to whom they owe loyalty. But I am not here to lecture you in history. Let’s keep it short: Have you changed your stubborn mind and are you now ready to become a dedicated student, which would also restore your miserable existence to a life worthy of a human being?” Silence.
“Obviously not.” Prince Raiden pulled a disapproving face and gave his captive another thrashing.
It was hard to tell how long the intervals were between the Prince’s visits because there was no daylight in the room. Eryn could only assume that the day wasn’t yet over when Prince Raiden came back. And then the game started anew.
Patronizingly, the Prince announced: “Now I have more time for you and we can chat a little.”
And I am supposed to find that gratifying? By now, Eryn was was well and truly afraid of the punishments and the ensuing pain. But it helped him to pray to the Gods, finding comfort in his faith.
“What are those nasty tattoos on your right hand for?”
Eryn prevaricated: “They are protective symbols of the Gods. Once as a child I was very sick – almost at death’s door - and so the help of the Gods was sought.” Yes, the Gods healed me. Their powers are really strong.
The Prince lost his patience and punished him. First Eryn was boxed around the ears for omitting the proper form of address, and then Prince Raiden ridiculed all the customs of the Fenn – as usual. “Something like magic symbols?” he mocked. “There are great similarities with symbols for spells, don’t you think so? But what I’ve been wondering for some time now is: Are those Fenn not a black haired, very unmagical type of human being? How can it then happen that you, a fair haired lad, have such an extraordinary magical talent? A special talent, which you don’t want to make use of in the slightest way – for whatever idiotic reason. You are clearly a cuckold’s child, a foundling...”
A base accusation! “I am Eryn Bloodhand, son of Bron Bearslayer and Lyesell Sunray, who died by the hands of filthy murderers!” Eryn burst out and was punished immediately. While Eryn was still hunched over from the blows, the Prince continued merrily with his interrogation: “Those asinine names – do you actually pick them yourself? Bloodhand, Bearslayer, Sunray, Horseapple, Pisspott...?”
Eryn was gasping for breath, but the Prince misinterpreted his behavior as a recalcitrant silence.
“Oh, the mulish boy refuses to talk to me once again? Slowly I begin to recognize that you are exactly what Talasin would have deserved. Sadly, Master Elderon favors my methods of persuasion over his. ‘Master Raiden’, he said, ‘surely the boy will listen to your arguments and will quickly give up his stubbornness. Put him on the right path, then he will understand himself.’ But somehow it seems you haven’t found that path yet. So I suppose it is time to push you once more in the right direction.”
The beating began and Eryn had only one thought in his head:
Surrender. I’ll just surrender and do what he wants. Then it will stop. Please let it stop! Yet he did not surrender.
At every visit, the Prince of Ardeen found a new topic to bait him with. The next time, he complained about the penetrating stench. “Ah, the smell down here is disgusting. Like a pig stye. I bet you don’t wash yourself, Dung-odor. Sounds better than Bloodhand. What do you think?”
“Why don’t you just kill me? Then you wouldn’t have to waste your time on me, nor suffer the smell any longer,” Eryn remarked cynically before adding: “My Prince” in a softly insolent undertone.
Thump! Another magical blow struck him on the head.
What’s wrong now? I address him with his title and it still isn’t right. It almost seems he doesn’t need a reason for hitting me. Certainly that... perverted sadist takes pleasure in torturing others.
The Prince discussed the matter factually: “The salutation ‘my Prince’ is only to be used by free burghers. You have to call me ‘milord’. Is that so difficult? You could certainly rise to the rank of a burgher if you swore off your ridiculous common or garden religion, and gave yourself up to deep devotion to the doctrines of magic. It doesn’t have to be the blackest of magic. Not at first anyway.” Raiden winked here, but Eryn didn’t get the joke. Nevertheless, he was glad that the Prince was talking, as it meant he was distracted from doing anything else. At that moment, the mage pronounced one of his ingenious ideas: “You could start with a simple light spell. Then we could at least make use of you as a lamp in a corner... in accordance with your intellectual capacity.”
Haha, is that supposed to be amusing? Racked to death by His Wittiness – would also be a possibility for departing this life.
The Prince, too, had something to say on this matter: “Concerning your strong wish for a swift killing – well, I’ve mentioned it several times now – the first mage doesn’t care for that option. But just between us – I would have no problem at all with such a solution. Sadly, however, I fear you will have to stay alive – whether I like it or not. Apropos ‘not liking’ – we have to do something about the smell. It would probably be best if I had you taken outside. Wind and rain will help to stem the stench, and you could do with a little sunshine, too. You look pale and haggar
d.” Then continuing with his taunts: “Outside, you also can take a close look at the harsh lives of my subjects, who go about their daily work in a permanent state of terror.
Oh, what efforts I take upon me to make you see reason. And I have yet to understand why you are so reluctant.”
“I’ll live and die as a Fenn!” Eryn proclaimed firmly his belief, and the Prince glanced at him in disbelief. The mage was so startled that he even forgot to give his prisoner the usual punishment.
“Now that you mention it, I finally understand your reasons. It makes perfect sense to suffer for an absurd religion. I expect I have to be more inventive with the punishments. After all, such a religious faith might be tested to the utmost. And if it is your own deep wish... till the end of time. Just let me think a moment. How about fire for a change?”
At the mere thought, the blood drained out of Eryn’s face. Before he knew it, his feet were ablaze. He cried out in agony, the pain almost driving him out of his wits.
“This nasty screaming is getting on my nerves. I’d best be off and leave you alone on your path to enlightenment. Perhaps you will find at last a glimmer of common sense.”
And although Prince Raiden was no longer in the room, the torture persisted.
When it was over, Eryn lay on the ground in a crumpled heap of misery. A while later, some soldiers appeared and took him outside. Set in the stone walls of the building were a number of iron rings for tethering horses. Eryn was now chained to such a ring. The place was close to the entrance of the citadel, and from there he could look over most parts of the inner yard. To both sides of the citadel, entrance guards were posted, and they also kept an eye on Eryn.
The fresh air is truly a blessing. Eryn took a deep breath. But as if on command, the sky clouded over and rain started to pour down. When the rain stopped, a cool wind blew in and Eryn shivered in his wet clothes. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
I can’t stand this any longer. What if the Prince is right and the doctrine of the Fenn is really wrong? Who has ever seen the Gods? But magic truly exists. I have been able to establish that often enough by now. What am I betraying anyway? Our customs? They have already disappeared from the world. Who am I betraying? My friends and relatives are all gone. Who am I betraying, then...? He knew the answer: Myself.
After several days of Prince Raiden’s special treatment, Eryn was full of doubts concerning his faith. Yet each time he had a session with the Prince, he held on staunchly to what he believed, even when Prince Raiden very skillfully sowed doubt in his heart. When he left Eryn, however, the young man could not help thinking over these words again and again.
The Prince claims that the true meaning of Bloodhand is Oathbreaker. Is he just saying so to torment me or is it really true? Eryn Oathbreaker – no that cannot be true. I have always kept my word. I am Eryn Bloodhand, a warrior, who washed his hands in blood – my own and that of my enemies. And I am a Fenn. Why should all Fenn be unmagical anyway? How can he know that? And that I have powers is clearly untrue. If it were so, wouldn’t I have noticed it? Everything I mention to his Buttockness, he twists round. I tell him: My mother came from the Lowlands and he uses that to make fun of me. Calling me a Half-Fenn and telling me I should be be glad of that. We are nothing in his eyes. But every one of us is worth more than that bastard tyrant. I would kill him – if I only had the chance.
A wish Eryn uttered often. But he was a very long way from having even the slightest chance. The chains held him securely in place and if he made the smallest movement, the guards looked over at him immediately. With a hint of gallows humor, Eryn thought:
Well I have to stay here whether I like it or not. At least outside this place there’s a lot of distraction on offer. People came and went. Children played. Sometimes they approached to examine Eryn curiously, but the guards shooed them away immediately.
Eryn was forced to admit once again that the Prince was right. The folk here seemed neither unhappy nor oppressed. They laughed and joked and were seldom in a hurry, often finding the time for a little talk. Nobody seemed to have a really hard life – except Eryn.
When the people spoke with each other, Eryn learned about the place and its surroundings.
The Black Tower is called Naganor. And the building at its feet is called the citadel. Near to the citadel’s main entrance is where I now lead my existence. Tower and citadel are surrounded by a large stone wall, and within it are located the stables and some outbuildings.
They must occupy the part of the yard I can’t see. And outside there must be a village and a garrison, the home of the Black Guard. Those elite soldiers of that bedeviled Prince who proved to be our downfall.
Often, officers of the Black Guard came to visit the citadel, with the changing of the guard taking place every few hours.
Once Eryn recognized one of the officers by the crest on his helmet.
That’s the one who commanded the troops in the attack against us. I am sure.
Eryn grabbed one of the bigger stones which were lying in the dirt. He clutched it in his fist, intending to throw it at the officer. Striking him on the head could kill him or at least injure him severely. If that happened, then they will surely kill me in their wrath and all this pain will end.
Scarcely did he tried to hurl the stone, however, when it dropped powerlessly out of his hand. A spell – cursed magic.
Lord Boron had just returned from Griscont. The sojourn at his castle had done him good. He saw his wife and the three children far too seldom. He had also noticed that he wasn’t in his best years any more.
If you find pleasure in sitting beside a warm fireplace, then you can be sure you are slowly growing old.
Now back at Naganor, the Gray Wolf immediately went to pay his Prince a visit, meeting him in the great hall. The Prince welcomed his old comrade:
“Ah, Lord Boron, good to see you. I have missed our conversation. Be seated and feast with me.”
The commander saluted: “My Prince!” In a good mood today.
The Prince immediately came to the point: “You remember that fair haired Fenn lad whom you captured recently?”
My brain isn’t yet so bad that I have forgotten about that. “Certainly, Your Highness. We only had two captives.”
“Well, one of them came by a roundabout route here to Naganor. He has blond hair untypical of a Fenn.”
Lord Boron’s mind replayed the scene when they had captured the young man. “I remember him well. He fought bravely, and when the fortunes of battle turned against him, he prepared himself to die. He begged for a hero’s death. But I had my orders to capture a few rebels alive, and at the end of the battle, he was the only one left. Apart from that half-child we seized the day before.”
Prince Raiden screwed his face up in disapproval. “Well, he is still longing for a hero’s death. It must be something rather special, but I still haven’t got the point of it. In what do those Fenn believe? What kind of men are they anyway?”
“Hard to tell. They fought ferociously and with great fanaticism. I supposed them to be trappers rather than warriors as they wore only light armor. No doubt, they felt betrayed by the Lowlanders – as they call us. A lot has changed up there in the mountains since the gate was discovered. Many people came there to make their fortune and they weren’t always honest and decent people. That hole of a village, Falgars Vale, has since grown into a real town. By the way... has Branden Hold brought back the ring? Even if I already know the answer... I won’t let that matter go.
“Not yet,” admitted the Prince.
Ha! I would have bet on. That mongrel won’t come running on his own.
The Lord of the Black Tower continued: “With all that trouble with the rebellious boy, I’d almost forgotten about the ring.”
Fortunately, I have reminded you. My pleasure. “And why is the lad staying here now? Shouldn’t he be hanged? The officials in Falgars Vale were really keen on that. Couldn’t wait to make a big thing out of his de
ath.”
The Prince sighed: “It would have been better for all of us. I would have my peace, he his death and nobody would have to bother their heads about his future any more. But joking aside, Lord Boron. An eager seeker has discovered that the boy is gifted beyond belief.
Sadly, it is true. I have checked for myself. And it has been decided that he is to study the art of magic for the benefit of the Brotherhood. But that imbecile resists vehemently for no reason at all. And as he doesn’t respond to kindness and reason, Master Elderon himself entrusted me with the task, putting the burden on my shoulders of showing him the right path... by any means at my disposal. Yes, those were his words. I’m sure you can imagine just how grateful I am to be able to waste my time on the task.”
The Gray Wolf grinned: “Infinitely thankful, of course. But shouldn’t that lad have been thankful to escape death? Being given the chance of a completely new start should be encouragement enough, even more so when packed in kind words. Or if that won’t work... a firm hand can also be of use.”
“The kindhearted Master Talasin has already tried the first approach – naturally to no avail – and I am at present applying myself to the second. I must admit, he is confronted with harsh treatment and still he resists stubbornly. His thoughts constantly reveal that he is about to surrender, but then he doesn’t. Perhaps in a few days’.” Master Raiden sighed in self pity.
“And if he goes mad? Such things have been known to happen if a man is tortured.”
These were not exactly the words Master Raiden wanted to hear. “It would be extremely bad and would no doubt incense Master Elderon. But there is a last option if everything else fails: The soulban – Master Elderon suggested it himself. I could weave it on the lad and that would assure his absolute obedience.” There was a bitter taste in Master Raiden’s words. Same as with me...
Lord Boron pressed his lips into a narrow line.
I experienced the time when Master Elderon cast the spell on Prince Raiden and saw at first hand what the spell did to the Prince. It is his very own curse, and he strives tirelessly to undo the spell so that he can be free again.