The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

Sarek sniffed, and shook his head sadly, levelling his crossbow, drawing anxious looks from all his comrades. "They need to learn." He whispered, as the others eased their strings and waited.

  As the patrol closed and the thundering of hooves could be felt through the soft Threlland earth beneath them, Sarek fired his bolt out towards the farak gorin, and rose from cover with a look of profound satisfaction on his features when the shaft flew breathtakingly close across the path of the sergeant leading the patrol.

  The horse whinnied and reared, and terrified heads swung this way and that, while hands fumbled for slung weapons.

  "You're all dead men." Sarek called, striding down the slope, leading his horse.

  "Not before you, you brigand bastards!" the sergeant yelled back, heaving his crossbow from his saddle. But it was neither cocked nor bolted, and Sarek laughed cruelly.

  "Peace, Sergeant Kole. We are friends."

  "Captain Sarek?"

  "Aye. And Lord Rak, and the Longsword, and others."

  Gawain and the rest of them emerged from cover, and a look of self-disgust stole over the patrolmens' faces when they saw elven longbows, shafts still nocked to the strings, and how easy it would have been for an enemy to have brought them all down.

  "We were dispatched to seek you out, Captain." the sergeant announced. "The Lady Merrin grew worried for you, and his Majesty too."

  "His Majesty?" Rak called. "Is he then in Tarn?"

  "Aye, my lord, and awaiting you with great impatience if his last orders to me were any indication."

  "How so?"

  "Begging your pardon, my lord, but his Majesty said to me: 'Get your arses out there and tell my niece's bloody husband I'm wanting to know what's so important she's dragged me halfway across the Kingdom.' That's his exact words, my lord."

  "Then we'd best ride." Rak sighed, and mounted.

  "And when we get back to Tarn, Sergeant," Sarek scowled as he climbed into the saddle, "You and I shall discuss the matter of your ambush."

  "Serre."

  When they camped that night, and a watch had been posted, Sarek studied the faces of the young men huddled in their cloaks. They eyed him nervously, unused to seeing such darkness in their commander's eyes.

  "There is an enemy in Threlland." Sarek announced quietly, and a hush fell over the camp.

  Elayeen sidled closer to Gawain, and he wrapped her in his cloak while Sarek gazed at the patrolmen, and recounted what he had seen. This time, his voice remained firm, and dark, and faltered not when he told of the horror he had seen. Few if any of the Threllanders slept that night.

  When, finally, their horses swung south once more, and the Jurian plains stretched endlessly before them, and the gentle slopes of western Threlland were on their left, Rak drew his horse alongside Gwyn.

  "Traveller, when we reach home, it would be best if I and Sarek spoke first with our king."

  "As long as he listens, Rak. I only hope the other crowns will pay heed to the messages sent so long ago."

  "Once Eryk knows what we know, he can add his authority to such messages. With the snows washed away from the farak gorin clear to Juria's castletown, I have no doubt Eryk will be able to persuade the other southland crowns to council."

  "You have no doubt?" Gawain asked, "In truth? If it were that easy, my father would have done so years ago. Indeed, he tried."

  Rak nodded earnestly. "But then, my friend, the enemy was Goria, and Pellarn a disputed territory. Now, the enemy we face is common to all, and all our lands are threatened."

  "Then I trust your diplomacy is equal to the task, my friend, for if not..."

  "I have faith in my skills, Traveller, just as you have faith in yours. I beg you, do not turn your dark ire upon Eryk. He is King of Threlland, and thus master of stubbornness. In the face of your ire, he will become as the very hills themselves."

  Gawain nodded, thoughtfully, and then said softly. "Even the stubbornest of hills can be swept away, Rak, until nothing remains but another Barak-nor."

  Rak winced. "Aye. I know."

  The patrol turned onto the Tarn track, and began wending its way along the familiar hills until finally the trees gave way and the muddy track turned to cobbles. On the outskirts of the town, a rider wearing a bright uniform spotted them, and galloped away, presumably to spread word of their arrival.

  "An honour-guard." Rak sighed. "Shining like a peacock in the afternoon sunshine. In your eyes, my brother, we must all seem so...amateur."

  Gawain thought back to Raheen, and its cavalry. Resplendent in their livery of red and gold, helms glinting. "No." He sighed. "Just noble, and honourable. And unprepared for so vile an enemy."

  When they entered the town square, hooves clattering on the stones, the guardsmen parted and allowed Gawain's small band of unwashed brigands to move to the fore. A large banner hung limply on a standard placed outside Rak's front door...the King's Colours, and flanking the door, two brightly-uniformed and sparkling clean honour-guards. On seeing the dishevelled and frankly disgraceful appearance of the seven riders approaching, the guards tensed, and eyed one another nervously.

  Then the door was flung open, and Lady Merrin burst forth, clutching Travak and pointing at Rak delightedly. Then she hurried across the cobbles, and Rak dismounted to greet his wife and infant son with equal enthusiasm.

  Gawain and the rest dismounted, and Elayeen turned to him.

  "You have brought us safely back, mithroth, as you promised."

  Gawain smiled. "I don't remember making such a promise."

  Elayeen cocked her head, and blinked up at him in the sunshine, her eyes sparkling behind the mud camouflage that still stained her face. "Did you not? In truth?"

  "I might have said something about not returning without you." Gawain mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

  Elayeen smiled, and took his hand, and was about to speak again when a deep voice boomed across the courtyard.

  "Elve’s Blood and Dwarfspit, niece! You shame the crown by cavorting with vagabonds while your husband is out in the hills!"

  Merrin giggled, and turned, beaming, to face Eryk, King of Threlland. "My husband is no longer in the hills, your Majesty, this vagabond is him, home, and safe."

  "And a more pitiful sight I've never seen, Rak of Tarn." Eryk snorted. "What's that lot with you?"

  Rak bowed low, as did all the others, except, noticeably, Gawain.

  "Your Majesty. This is Sarek, Captain of your Majesty's Tarn Guard. Allazar the wizard I believe you already know..."

  Eryk snorted again.

  "...There stand Meeya and Valin, thalangard, royal honour-guard to her highness the princess Elayeen of Elvendere..."

  At this Eryk's eyes widened and his chin dropped, as Elayeen curtseyed regally.

  "...And this is my friend and brother, Traveller, also known as the Longsword."

  Eryk flicked a glance at Gawain, nodded briefly, and the returned his gaze to Elayeen as he strode forward.

  "Your highness," he announced, his voice rich, "All Threlland is proud and honoured to greet Elvendere. Honour to you, and to your crown."

  Elayeen flushed beneath the mud-stains. "Honour to you, your Majesty, and to all Threlland. But I am faranthroth..."

  "Her highness is tired, your Majesty," Rak interrupted, "and as you can see, in need of rest and bathing..."

  "As are you all Rak," Eryk sniffed, and glanced up into Gawain's eyes. "But first I want to know why I wasn't informed that we had royal guests in our land, and from Elvendere, by the Teeth!"

  "I shall be happy to explain..." Rak began apologetically.

  "I should think so. But later. As you say, her highness is tired and in need of bathing. We'll speak later. An hour.” Then he studied their mud-caked faces and hair again. "Make that two hours."

  With that, Eryk bowed low to Elayeen, and turned, and strode back into Rak's house.

  Gawain stood there, completely at a loss. Eryk of Threlland stood no higher than his breastbone, was at least twice Gawain's a
ge and more, yet looked for all the world like a younger and more vigorous version of Martan of Tellek, down to the bushy beard and eyebrows (though Eryk's were red and Martan's gray). Yet the king wore about him an air of absolute command, just as Davyd of Raheen had. Gawain wondered if he would ever acquire such regal command, but Elayeen had taken his hand again, and was leading him into Rak's house...

  oOo

  37. Eryk of Threlland.

  Eryk sat with his back to the fire, glowering at them all in turn, eyeing their freshly-scrubbed features.

  "Six hundred, you say. In the Barak-nor."

  "Aye, Sire." Rak said softly.

  Eryk snorted. "Six hundred, staying alive by eating...I shall not say it. It is too unspeakable."

  "Aye, Sire."

  "But you didn't see them. Doing that. Eating...things."

  "No, I was spared the horror. But Captain Sarek did."

  Eryk snorted again, and stared up at the Tarn officer, standing by the door next to Gawain and Allazar. Only Rak, Elayeen, Merrin, and the thalangard were seated before the king.

  "And so you would have me mobilise against them, husband of my niece. Send my troops against them, and smash them back into the Teeth whence they came. Something like that?"

  "Aye, Sire." Rak said softly again, but he looked a lot less sure of himself than he had whilst describing all they had witnessed.

  "Six hundred of these...these...Morlochmen...sitting in a hole in the Barak-nor..."

  "A crater, Sire..."

  "...It matters not where they sit, dammit! What shall I hurl at them? Rocks? Shall I have my piddling honour-guard stand atop the cloven hill and throw stones at them?"

  Rak blanched as Gawain's eyes flickered black for the briefest of moments. Nor was it lost on Eryk of Threlland, who sighed and explained with great reluctance:

  "I have a standing army of three hundred men in town guards and patrolling the borders. A mere fifty in my honour-guard, and their duties are mostly ceremonial. You've seen them. They can fight, all of them, and I mean no dishonour to you and your men, Captain Sarek, I know you serve the crown well. But you would have me pitch my three hundred and fifty untried guardsmen against six hundred blackhearted Morlochmen who live in a blasted poisoned land and eat...survive on...dammit I still cannot say it."

  "Yet they are there, Sire." Rak announced.

  "Mobilise, you say. Mobilise what? By the Teeth, Rak, you know as well as I there's been peace in all the southlands since Pellarn. We border Mornland and Juria and both are friends to Threlland. What need have we had for an army since Pellarn?"

  "Yet we have need of one now, uncle." Merrin said quietly.

  "Indeed. But if my brother your father were alive, Merrin, would he not say 'what would you have me do, give hammers to all miners and say go, smash, kill, destroy!'? Our people have only just recovered from the joys of our liberation from the cursed Ramoths and the removal of threat from Morloch's Breath. And you would have me send them against six hundred Morlochmen?"

  "With Juria, and Mornland, and all the southlands united..." Rak began, but Eryk simply snorted again.

  "United! You and your dreaming, Rak. Even if I could persuade them all to gather in council, which I doubt, could I count on Callodon for support? Why should they send their army, if they have one to send, to aid Threlland? Can I count on Elvendere?"

  "I cannot speak for my father...In Elvendere I am..." Elayeen began, her head low.

  "Yes yes I know all about that," Eryk grumbled, "Merrin explained it all to me. But you're not in Elvendere now. Your father's Thal-Hak of Elvendere and you're his daughter, and in my land that makes you my most royal guest your royal highness Elayeen, and that's that."

  "I thank you, your Majesty." Elayeen said, looking up into the king's eyes. "But I still cannot say that Thal-Hak will render assistance."

  "No. You see? You see, Rak, my dilemma? With Elvendere's archers at my back I could send the guard against those blackhearted bastards and not worry a jot. But I have no archers at my back."

  "We saw no horses at the Barak-nor, Sire." Sarek announced, firmly. "Other than those of the Black Riders. We face an infantry, not a cavalry."

  "I shall be sure to tell General Karn that all is well, we may send our trifling force of mounted guards at the six hundred Morlochmen without fear of loss. Did you happen to see any weapons in evidence in that crater? Longbows, perhaps, that could knock you out of your saddle at three hundred paces?"

  "No, Sire." Sarek admitted.

  "Then I suggest you leave the military planning to Karn and myself, though Karn will doubtless want your field experience at hand. As for the rest, this general call to arms you suggest is out of the question."

  "But Sire..." Rak protested.

  "But nothing. Were we to send our entire force to the Barak-nor, and this other western army you speak of should appear across the farak gorin, what then? What forces we do have, we will most certainly not permit to become the meat in Morloch's sandwich."

  Sarek and Rak winced.

  "I chose my words deliberately." Eryk asserted. "I shall not send our forces against such odds without the slightest chance of success."

  "You may have no choice in the matter," Gawain said ominously, speaking for the first time, "If the breach occurs..."

  "The breach." Eryk scowled. "You have shown my people the enemy in the Barak-nor. That I can scarcely believe as it is, and were it not for Rak and Sarek I would laugh at you all for madmen. This breach you speak of may not be broached for years, if at all. This western army you speak of may not exist for that matter, though I'll grant it's prudent to imagine it does. But I will not invite all the crowned heads south of the Teeth to council on the suspicions of a boy."

  Gawain's eyes flickered again. "A boy?"

  Rak cast an imploring look towards his friend.

  "A boy." Eryk announced firmly. "Brave, doubtless, and fearsome, no less doubt in that. But would you face those six hundred alone? In truth?"

  "No."

  "But that is what you are asking me to do, in mobilising my pitiful forces against them. They do not have your skill, nor your long sword. To send them into battle against these Morlochmen would be the same as sending you in there alone. Futile."

  "Then summon the other lands, and with their assistance..."

  "Summon? Summon! Warrior of great repute you may be, Traveller, or Longsword, or whatever your name is, but you do not summon crowned heads thus!"

  "I am Gawain, son of Davyd, King of Raheen."

  The thalangard gasped, and stared from him and then to Elayeen. Eryk paused, thoughtfully, and then said quietly:

  "Then you have my sympathies, Raheen. And now you have said it, I do see a resemblance to Davyd. But unless you can bring five hundred cavalry astride Raheen chargers to this battle, you're still nothing but a boy with a long sword and a reason to hate Morloch, and with much to learn about southland kings and their politics. Threlland is not the only land which can boast so small a force of untested warriors."

  "But united..." Gawain protested, flushing.

  "United? Even if united, what then? Who would command? You? I? Can you see Thal-Hak of Elvendere allowing me or you or Brock of Callodon to command his archers? And how many could he bring to the fight? A hundred? Two hundred?

  "Mornland grows grapes, and has perhaps the same number of general guardsmen at its command as I. Arrun weaves its fabrics and raises sheep. It is a principality, and cannot boast a king, much less an army. In generosity to them, we'll say two hundred infantry. Juria? Perhaps four hundred men at arms, some on horseback. Callodon, another four hundred.

  "Even if crowns could be persuaded to place these forces under a single and united command, what would we have? Some two thousand men under arms, men not tried in battle, accustomed only to patrolling friendly borders. And ranged against us, as you would have it, twelve hundred of these vile Morloch vermin, with more ready to pour through this imminent breach of yours.

  "And that
is assuming that each land gives its all. I doubt Thal-Hak would leave Elvendere's western flank unguarded against Goria, and nor would Callodon nor Juria, if they have any sense, and they do."

  "Then we are all doomed." Gawain glowered darkly.

  Eryk stiffened, and drew in a deep breath. "In all likelihood, yes. Unless by some dark wizardry the crowns can be persuaded to gather in one place, which I doubt. And unless by some dark wizardry, the crowns can be persuaded to donate their entire military forces to our cause, which again I doubt. If Morloch were on our side, I would be less doubtful in matters of dark wizardry."

  "Sire, you will ask for the council?" Rak asked, with great tact.

  "I'll think about it."

  "Uncle, please?" Merrin pleaded.

  Eryk glanced at her and then looked away. Then he glanced at her again.

  "Very well. I'll send word to them all. Though it'll take years for them to agree on a suitable meeting place, let alone whether to attend or not."

  "Ferdan, in Juria." Gawain announced.

  "Eh?"

  "Ferdan. It is a small fortified town, near the eastern border of Elvendere."

  "Why there?"

  "It is far enough away from all castletowns to be considered almost neutral." Rak explained enthusiastically. "None could complain at the location, in truth. And it is close enough to Elvendere even for Thal-Hak to feel secure."

  "Very well. I shall so request the council. In the meantime, I shall return to the throne, and direct General Karn to move our forces, quietly, to the western slopes. Sarek, you may expect to hear from him directly."

  "Sire."

  Eryk stood, and those that had been seated did likewise. The king paused, and looked at them all.

  "In truth," he sighed, "They ate...as you said?"

  "In truth, Sire." Sarek said grimly. "They must be destroyed. All of them. Every last one."

  Eryk nodded sadly. "And your men, they know all of this?"

  "Aye Sire, but they're good men. They will not spread the terror of it."

  "I hope not." Eryk stiffened his back again, and surveyed them regally. "You've done well, though in retrospect I would that you'd waited to speak to me before venturing out to the Barak-nor. It might have helped if General Karn had accompanied you."