Ardeen, Volume 1: The Circle of Magic

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Ardeen, Volume 1: The Circle of Magic Page 32

by Sigrid Kraft


  “What kind of spells?” interrupted the Prince. Let’s see, what the waster has achieved so far.

  “My Prince, there was a light spell attached to the ceiling, a warming spell, some air spells to make a couch and cushions, a refreshing spell and another air spell to... seal up smells.”

  I’d best not ask what kind of smells they’d sealed, decided Master Raiden, concentrating instead on making a judgment on Eryn’s progress: Well, those spells are nothing extraordinary, but at least the savage has learned a few primitive basic spells.

  Harkon didn’t dare to pause again, and had continued his report: “To cut it short, it stank repulsively in the room, and broken bottles lay scattered all over the ground. Recruit Ravenor stood at the very center of the room and responded to Sir Haerkin’s requests with impudence. He made no attempt to resist arrest. I removed all the spells, and the recruit Eryn tried to defend himself against the soldiers. But being so drunk that he could barely remain on his legs, he was easily overpowered by the soldiers. Outside, Sir Haerkin tried to question them but recruit Ravenor continued to make cheeky comments until he was gagged. Then Sir Haerkin turned to recruit Eryn and demanded a confession. The guards had to hold Eryn upright as he couldn’t stand on his own any more and... he couldn’t hold on to his insides either and puked straight on to Sir Haerkin’s boots. Consequently, Sir Haerkin became very upset, ordered them to the pole and sent me to report.

  Is that twisting at the corners of Boron’s mouth a suppressed grin? So, the Gray Wolf finds the story amusing.

  “And on what grounds are they again accused of ‘insulting His Highness’ – meaning my person?” Seems I missed it in the report. But I’m rather interested in that particular detail.

  Harkon had hoped he could leave this out. I hope this will soon be over and I can go back to my books. Why of all people, did it have to be me who ended up involved in this spectacle? Harkon had just happened to be around when Sir Haerkin had ordered him to follow.

  “My Prince, when Sir Haerkin referred to Ravenor as a bastard, the recruit uttered an inappropriate comment.”

  That’s too general. “And the exact words were...?”

  Is this really necessary? But what am I supposed to do? It is senseless to hold something back from the Towerlord of the Black Tower, one of the most powerful mages alive. “He said: Yes, I am indeed a bastard – thanks to my father, the old goat. Apologies, Your Highness, but I am merely repeating the words as they were spoken.”

  Prince Raiden’s face darkened dramatically, and Harkon was afraid that the wrath would now be turned on him, so he incriminated Ravenor even further: “And recruit Ravenor also complained about the regular meals. Now Sir Haerkin asks Lord Boron to set the punishment because he would... I quote: String them both up.”

  Ill-temperedly, the Prince of Ardeen waved his hand. “Report to Sir Haerkin that I myself will decide the penalty in this case and Lord Boron will see to the rest. You are dismissed!”

  “Yes, my Prince!” breathed Harkon, deeply relieved. He gave a clumsy salute and departed as quickly as he could in accordance with the proper manner, all the while feeling Prince Raiden’s eyes like daggers in his back. When they were once again alone in the great hall, Lord Boron couldn’t hold back any longer:

  “That’s a bit strong. I would have enjoyed seeing Sir Haerkin’s face at experiencing his boots being stained with vomit. Haha! The pernickety Sir Haerkin. Our Master of rules and etiquette.”

  Prince Raiden also dropped the official tone.

  “So you think it amusing if your recruits behave in such a manner?”

  “My recruits, but your blood and your charge,” countered the Gray Wolf.

  This had quite ruined Prince Raiden’s good mood. The formulation ‘old goat’ had really hit him hard, not least because it bore more than a little truth. Just now a young lady was quartered in the citadel and Prince Raiden had an appointment with her later on. He had already seduced her as he had so many before her.

  Well, I’m exceedingly devoted to beautiful women, but that really could be described with other words. “How dare that cheeky bastard refer to me in such terms!”

  Mischief glittered in Lord Boron’s eyes: “Who else, if not one of your bastards? You have never been a loving father.”

  Prince Raiden ignored the remark and changed the subject slightly: “When we were young men doing service, we really would have been hanged for such behavior.”

  Lord Boron discovered he had an appetite for the ham and began to cut off slices. “Prince Raiden, they might well have hanged us if they had ever caught us.”

  That’s true. As young men we also broke the rules. “That’s the difference! That fools have got caught and instead of holding their tongues, they were provocative and insulting. But, as you already mentioned: hanging is no option in this case. One of them clings to me like damned scabies and the other is of my blood! But that won’t save them from an extremely harsh punishment, if only to maintain discipline within the troops!”

  Lord Boron nodded: “I agree completely, my Prince. So I propose twelve hours on the pole and thirty lashes.”

  Prince Raiden was by now so furious that he was of another opinion: “Ha! I said: extremely harsh punishment. Fifty lashes and ten more with the bullwhip... after all, there’s something dull and bovine about both of them.”

  Lashes with the bullwhip were unmagical strokes that ripped open the skin and left real wounds. In the guard it was not normal to be punished with a bullwhip, which was only used on common criminals, as it was considered particularly shameful.

  “... afterwards, they will do double duty for two weeks. They have also complained about the food. What shall we do about that? Hmm, double duty and half rations so they’ll only have half of it to complain about.”

  Lord Boron frowned: “If you’re determined to go that far, you might as well hang them.”

  The Prince was in high spirits: “Then let them be supervised by a scholar of magic, just to make sure they don’t die by accident. And send them here to the citadel for watch duty. I want to keep an eye on them, because obviously you don’t seem to be able to get those two rogues under control.”

  “As my Prince commands,” Lord Boron replied insincerely, then helped himself to some of the succulent ham. But Prince Raiden had not yet finished:

  “Also, Sir Haerkin must be given satisfaction. As a sign of respect, I command that whenever Sir Haerkin passes by, both imbeciles will spring to attention – till the end of time. Even if Sir Haerkin should be a blind and foolish dolt and those two – may the Gods save us from such a fate – commanders of great armies.” Pleased with himself, Prince Raiden nodded: “That should be sufficient to make an example of them. The entire Black Guard will attend to witness the whipping. But first they’ll go to the pole so that they are at least sober again when it is time for their punishment.”

  “Will you honor us with your presence, Your Highness?”

  Prince Raiden cleared his throat: “Erm, no. I have to attend to my visitor. And now, my dear commander, I would be very grateful if you didn’t steal the last morsel of food from my table, but instead made an exception and attended to your troops.”

  Snatching a final piece of ham, Lord Boron stood up. “As my Prince commands. I wish you a delightful day, and please don’t sent the fruits of your labours to the Guard again.”

  The Prince abstained from giving an answer, and Lord Boron took his leave.

  The sun had already climbed a good way up the horizon, and it promised to become a wonderful sunny day. But the two drunkards, now tied to the pole, would hardly enjoy it. Ravenor sat on the sunny side on the bare earth, leaning his back against the pole, his hands and feet constrained by iron manacles whose chains were attached to the pole. In an ingenious system, the chains could be fed through loops and pulled tight at any height. Ravenor was almost thankful for the short rest they were now experiencing, as the severity of their situation had sobered him up a good deal.
A soldier had removed the gag but also warned him: “If you make a noise, I’ll stuff it back in again!”

  Ravenor knew the man only by sight. The soldier seemed to feel pity with the accused and added: “You will be treated badly enough later on, comrade.”

  “Thanks, comrade,” Ravenor replied, and then the troop of soldiers went off. Only one man was left to keep an eye on them. He stood some distance away, resting in the shade by the well. From there, he could oversee both the pole and the whole yard if an officer approached.

  Ravenor’s black hair hung annoyingly in his face and he tried to wipe it away with his hand. The chains clanked and he only managed to raise his arm halfway, as the chains were too short. Eryn’s heavy breathing could be heard from other side of the pole where he sat chained in the same way as Ravenor.

  “Hey, Eryn, what’s up?”

  “I feel awful, as if I had eaten chokeherbs. I’ll never drink wine again!”

  “Sissy. Believe me, we won’t get that stuff again anyway. And I’ve told you before that you can’t handle a drink.”

  From the other side came a choking and then the revolting smell of vomit wafted towards Ravenor.

  “Oh no, Eryn, was that strictly necessary?”

  The stench was obnoxious and now Ravenor also started to feel queasy. The sun blinded him with its brightness. Again a whiff of Eryn’s puke went up his nose and that was it for him, too. He bent as far as he could to the side so as not to soil himself with vomit. Emptying his stomach didn’t help to improve the smell but it sobered him up considerably.

  “What do you think? How many lashes will we get?” Eryn asked.

  “Hmm, maybe thirty. Ten is usual for a serious offense.”

  “Pah, it wasn’t just a single offense. And then you couldn’t stop blathering on to Sir Haerkin.”

  “Are you pissing your pants, Eryn? The savage from the mountains, killer of men? As a baby, weren’t you thrown into icy mountain rivers to toughen you up? What are a few strokes compared to that?”

  Eryn was slightly annoyed at Ravenor’s arrogant talk. “No we aren’t thrown into icy water and just to explain it to you once again. If you go into a real fight, you put your fate into the hand of destiny. Your blood boils hot and a mixture of coldness and madness takes control of you, making you react instinctively, all your senses fully alert while you are surrounded by blood and screams. Yours and those of your enemies. And you don’t know in advance whether you’ll be hit by an arrow or lacerated by a blade. If you are really caught badly, it’s all over anyway. If not, well after the fight you have time to relive it all, to care for your wounds and be glad you’re still alive.

  Before I came here, I always thought I could endure anything. But then I was a guest of the Black Prince and found out that your sire is no man of mercy. They were only magical pains, but it was more than enough for me. Everyone reaches a point where they can’t bear things any longer and they’d do anything to make it stop. And in this damned magical world, you shouldn’t think you’ll black out and cross over to a state of feeling nothing.”

  “Have you finished?” Ravenor gave his voice a bored tone.

  But now Eryn’s voice challenged from around the pole: “A bet – I’ll scream later than you!”

  Ravenor didn’t get it at once: “Eh?”

  “I can bear more whip lashes than you, babyface. You’ll scream first if they flay your hide.”

  “Ha, we’ll see!”

  “How many lashes have you had in one go anyway?” Eryn taunted.

  A brief silence, then Ravenor spit it out: “Ten.” And that time I screamed, but I won’t tell Eryn that, the braggart.

  Eryn commented with a contemptuous: “Pah, then you’re about to get a nasty surprise today. Is the bet on?”

  “Sure, mountain numbskull. Admire the courage of a Prince’s bastard,” boasted Ravenor to bolster his spirits.

  The vomit now smelled less terrible as the sun had already dried it out, and Eryn also felt less sick and drunk. Now, though, tiredness crept into his bones, weighing them down like lead. “It’ll be warm today.”

  Ravenor needled from the other side: “Well then, come around to the sunny side of the pole. At least you can rest in the shade.”

  “I would gladly come around to get a little of the sun, but I’m afraid I can’t leave my place here. Resting is a good idea. I’m dog tired.”

  Ravenor agreed: “Yes, a little nap would do us a power of good.”

  Hardly had Eryn closed his eyes than he was fast asleep.

  It seemed like no more than a second later when a splash of water hit him in the face. Rudely torn from his sleep, Eryn blinked the water out of his eyes. Directly in front of him, he saw a collection of boots, but before he had a chance to look into the faces of the wearers, he found himself being hauled up roughly.

  The chains were pulled tight and a collar was fixed around their necks to hold the convicted men in an upright position. The chains on their feet were connected to the rest so that Eryn now stood strictly to attention, eyeball to eyeball with Sir Galden their troop leader. Sir Galden had always been a soldier through and through. Normally, he treated his men correctly and fairly – just as long as they behaved properly and according to the rules. But now his face was a mask of stone.

  We’ve managed to make it into his bad books, too, Eryn thought and added reasonably: That’s the end of our skylarking. I hope Ravenor keeps his mouth shut.

  Sir Galden pierced Eryn with his steel-blue eyes. “These two men are a disgrace to my troop and to Sir Draken’s company as well.” Then he pronounced the sentence, laid down personally by His Highness the Prince of Ardeen.

  When they heard the announcement, the hearts of the two offenders plummeted to their knees. But according to the rules of the Guard, they had to give a prepared answer, phrases that had to be learned by heart by every new recruit in their first weeks. And now Eryn and Ravenor replied in chorus: “

  Sir, I have disgraced the Black Guard of the Prince of Ardeen and I am now willing to humbly accept the deserved discipline, Sir.” Together their voices sounded less shaken and feeble than they really were.

  Without another word, Sir Galden turned around and marched off in a goose step. All the soldiers followed him apart from two remaining guards, who remained with the offenders. After the punishment had been officially proclaimed, further talking was forbidden for the delinquents. All violations of this regulation would be seen as a new act of contempt.

  Twelve long hours under a merciless sun lie before us. Hell on earth has now begun.

  The hours crawled by. People crossed the yard and different units of soldiers came to do their drill exercises.

  Eryn tried to focus on the goings-on to distract himself from his burning thirst. He felt no hunger but the thirst was brutal. Then he felt a pressing need to empty his bladder. Although he could hold it back for a while, eventually his control started to weaken and eventually he had to let go. His humiliation at wetting himself like a child or an old man was considerable, but the hot sun soon dried the shame away.

  Added to the thirst, there now came a piercing headache and great exhaustion.

  A refreshing spell would be a fine thing now. However, Eryn had already learned that on the pole it wasn’t possible to weave magic.

  That monster is backed up with rather mighty spells. They say it existed even before the Dragon War and it was the Prince who ordered this colossus to be brought here. It even makes some sense in a garrison where scholars of magic also do their duty. How bad would a punishment be if the sinner could use his magical powers to free or shield himself?

  People came and went. The guard changed for the fourth time and evening approached. Then the troops begun to gather on the yard, all five hundred men of the garrison. The hours on the pole would soon be over, and Eryn started to feel decidedly queasy, a sensation that had nothing to do with the wine he had drunk. His mind was in torment at the thought of the punishment that was about to foll
ow.

  The troops lined up in formation, with a large number of the officers already in attendance. Sir Draken, Sir Heime, Sir Wylden and Sir Oswold stood together in a group, conversing, while Lord Boron and Sir Haerkin were still absent.

  Not that I’m looking forward to seeing Sir Haerkin again.

  A short distance away, troop leader Sir Galden was talking to Sir Draken in a low voice.

  Eryn would have liked to be able to eavesdrop on them but he couldn’t understand a word.

  I can well imagine what their conversation is all about, though.

  Sir Galden went back to the troops. A few commands resounded, soldiers saluted and a group accompanied Sir Galden to the pole.

  “Unchain them!” ordered Sir Galden, and the soldiers set to work on the shackles.

  A magic scholar placed an armlet around Eryn’s wrist before the chains were taken off, a bewitched ring that cut off his magic veins. Eryn took a step forward, but his legs buckled and he fell to the ground.

  “By all the Gods, those pigs stink like hell. Clean them up first and then take them over!”

  In disgust, Sir Galden stepped away. Three men seized Eryn, and he was dragged more than walked towards the well. They ducked his head into the horse trough that was positioned to one side.

  Cold and refreshing – a small boon. Greedily, Eryn drank in deep drafts before his head was torn back. One of the guards pulled him to his feet while Ravenor was subjected to the same procedure. Eryn licked his lips to catch every drop of the delicious moisture. By now, his legs were doing their job quite reasonably. Another soldier with a mean grin on his face held a bucket of water in his hands.

  “Because of you, we had a bastard of a time today.”

  With those words, he chucked the whole bucketful right into Eryn’s face. The next bucket was already filled and several more followed.

 

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