A Warden Born

by Paul Summerhayes

  “You’re not one of us—you can’t challenge,” laughed Wolfgang.

  “He can challenge, if he wants,” said Tharr. “Looks like I’ll have to kill him instead of just giving him a beating.” This brought more laughter from the other bandits.

  “I would just stick him and get back to our drinking,” Wolfgang said.

  Tharr drew his sword, “Let’s get it over with, then. Let him up.”

  The bandits formed a wide ring around Finn as he slowly stood. The road was poorly lit, as the only light came from the inn’s windows and front door. The moon had not risen, yet.

  Finn looked around at the faces surrounding him. The bandits looked like a pack of hungry wolves waiting to see his blood spilled onto the ground. His pulse pounded loudly in his chest and ears.

  Mordan, if you are going to show up, please make it now!

  The black sword’s hilt was warm, as Finn drew it from its scabbard. He could hear the bandits’ surprise as he held it out in front of him. The black blade looked glossy, as it reflected the light from the inn.

  “Where did you get that sword?” asked Wolfgang.

  Finn didn’t respond. His focus was Tharr and he waited for him to act first. Is this my father?

  Tharr stood side-on to Finn and held his long sword in a low, two-handed guard. The bandit leader looked relaxed and confident, he was no stranger to swordplay. Tharr’s eyes never left the young eldon, as he looked for weakness or an opening to end the fight quickly.

  They circled each other, like caged animals, but neither appeared to want to make a move. Sweat appeared on Finn’s brow.

  This is it.

  Without warning, Tharr lunged forward and drove the point of his sword under Finn’s guard. The steel narrowly missed his groin and the watchers cheered as Finn jumped back just in time.

  He’s fast.

  Tharr’s emotionless face was hard to read. He was not an inexperienced warrior, like the two highwaymen—the bandit could handle a sword.

  Stepping forward, Tharr swung his sword low, which Finn narrowly dodged. The young eldon whipped his sword at the bandit’s head, which was deflected effortlessly. Tharr rained down a series of quick strikes and forced Finn backward. He barely had time to block them and was working hard to stay alive. He was breathing hard. The bandits’ circle opened up and gave the combatants more room, as they moved further out into the road and away from the inn’s light.

  After a serial a quick strikes, the bandit leader stopped following Finn further into the darkness and retreated back toward the inn. He held his sword in a high guard position. Finn found this strange.

  He could have finished me.

  “Come on, boy, stop hiding in the dark,” taunted Wolfgang.

  What? Tharr can’t see me? I can him.

  Finn stood outside the inn’s light and studied the bandits. They had to squint to see him, but he could still see them clearly.

  It must be this sword!

  Finn moved forward to the edge of the light. Without hesitation, Tharr leapt forward and brought his sword down in an overhead strike. Finn stepped to the left and his blade flashed out to slash across Tharr’s shoulder. It drew a bloody line.

  “Ah!” cried the bandit as he grimaced.

  Finn stepped back into the darkness. Tharr was angry, now, and followed him. In the semi-darkness, Finn had the advantage. They exchanged savage blows and then sprung apart. Tharr rushed forward and thrust his weapon at Finn, but the attack was wild, and Finn had already side-stepped the attack. He drove the black sword deep into the side of Tharr’s chest and he could see the shock in his opponent’s eyes as the sword fell from Tharr’s dead hands.

  Finn tried to remove his sword, but it was stuck—it didn’t want to be pulled out. A moment later, the sword came free and the blood on its black surface vanished.

  This sword is not natural.

  The bandits were stunned by their leader’s death. “Kill him!” someone yelled.

  One of them rushed forward and swung an axe at Finn’s head. Almost without effort, he ducked under the axe and thrust his sword deep into the man’s stomach. Finn straightened as the bandit fell forward, onto the road. A second bandit came at him from his left side with his saber raised. Finn reversed his sword and drove it into the attacker’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. Watching the three remaining bandits, Finn withdrew his sword and sent the bandit toppling over.

  In just a few heartbeats, three bandits lay dead on road.

  Wolfgang raised his hands, “Whoa, there. We don’t want any more trouble.”

  The young eldon could feel his pulse thumping in his chest. Bring it! The sword hilt was still very warm.

  Chapter 15

  With a bloody sword still in his hand, Finn stared at the three bandits, daring them to move against him. They looked confused, no one had expected him to win a fair fight against a more experienced swordsman. It took a moment for the fact that he was now the leader of the bandit outfit to sink in.

  “Where’s Anna?” growled Finn.

  “She’s not here,” said a dwarf bandit.

  “What?”

  “Krulta took her and the wagon full of ingredients,” said Wolfgang, whose hands were still up.

  “What?”

  “Krulta took her,” replied Wolfgang calmly. “She’s not here. She is probably on the eastern side of the Cold Heart Mountains, by now.”

  “What?”

  “Why does he keep saying that?” the dwarf asked Wolfgang.

  “Krulta takes your girl to the master.”

  “Who?”

  “The master. He needs her for his magic. We’re not sure why. Only Tharr knew, and you just killed him.” Wolfgang lowered his hands while he spoke.

  “Who is this master?”

  “All I know is he is called the master. He’s some sort of necromaster. I wouldn’t ask too many questions about him, if I were you.”

  “He’s a what?”

  “A necromaster. From what I’ve heard, he’s not a person you want to mess with,” said Wolfgang. “Just forget the girl.”

  Necromaster? Sounds like another bloodsucker. I will ask Mordan.

  “I need more information,” said Finn. “Where is Krulta taking her?”

  “As far as I know, he is going to the master’s castle and taking the girl with him.” Finn waved his sword as encouragement for Wolfgang to continue. “You go over the mountains into Krystoria and then travel north.”

  “How many bandits are with Krulta?”

  “Bandits,” laughed Wolfgang, “They aren’t bandits, they’re orc mercenaries—and good ones, by all accounts.”

  “How many?”

  He paused. “There are twenty of them, and they’re all better swordsmen than dear old Tharr, there,” Wolfgang nodded toward his dead leader.

  Twenty! There might as well be one hundred. I can’t defeat twenty orcs by myself.

  He wondered if Mordan might help, as he looked at the three bandits. Wolfgang looked at him with a serious expression, but the other two tried to hide their grins.

  Maybe there aren’t twenty, but an orc is still a formidable warrior.

  “Look, we don’t have your girl, and you know we are never going to accept you as our leader,” said Wolfgang. “Let’s just go our separate ways. Deal?”

  “Hmm. You’re right. Drop your weapons slowly and get out of here.”

  Wolfgang moved a little too quickly for Finn’s liking, and he raised the black blade to the bandit’s chin.

  “I said slowly.”

  “Okay, okay. Keep your shirt on.” All three bandits dropped their weapons and backed up a few paces, keeping their hands raised.

  “Get out of here. If I see you again, you will end up like Tharr, over there. Get!”

  The three bandits watched Finn as they passed. They headed west down the mountain toward Treemere. After ten yards, they turned and jogged down the road, out of the inn’s light. Finn was surprised he could still see their
faint outlines in the darkness. It wasn’t until they were over twenty yards away that he lost sight of them.

  How is this possible? How can I see in total darkness? Even eldon eyes aren’t that good.

  I have killed again.

  Finn sheathed his sword and picked up the bandits’ weapons. He threw the weapons down the steep embankment opposite the inn and they clanged as the bounced off the rocks.

  Finn dragged Tharr’s body into the light and dropped it beside the other two dead bandits. Tharr’s skin was not as pale as his own. I don’t think he is related–I hope not anyway!

  He left the three corpses lying on the road and walked back inside the inn. The four remaining patrons, as well as the barman, stared at the young eldon as he entered. Finn hesitated for a moment and wondered if these people had any allegiance to the bandits.

  I can at least trust the gnome.

  The gnome sat at a table alone. He was physically typical of his race, except that he wore exceptionally bright coloured clothes and had a ginger coloured goatee. Finn addressed him, “Thank you, sir. I am in your debt.”

  “You are welcome, lad. Those louts were starting to annoy me, anyway.”

  “I must travel across these mountains quickly, but they are unknown to me. Are you familiar with the mountain road? Do you have any advice?”

  “My advice, travel with an army. Krystoria is east of here and it contains many hazards. And much of northern Krystoria is still wild and unsettled,” the gnome sipped his beer. “If I were you, I wouldn’t go there by myself.”

  “Thank you, Sir, for your advice. I do not have an army but I still must go east. Good night to you and thanks for your assistance.”

  Finn turned and walked to the bar. The dwarven barman watched him suspiciously.

  “We want no more trouble here,” the barman stated.

  Raising his empty hands, Finn replied, “I didn’t want any trouble in the first place.” He weighed up the stocky dwarf. “There are three dead bandits on the road. I would like to pay for their funerals.” He dropped the highwaymen’s loot bag on the timber bar.

  “Thank you, young sir. I will take care of it.” The dwarf took the bag and gave it a quick shake, before making it vanish under the bar.

  Finn turned and walked to the front door. He knew they all watched him and probably wondered how a young eldon had single-handedly killed three cut-throat bandits and sent the rest running. He exited without a backward look and rounded the side of the buildings to where the two ponies waited. After transferring his packs onto Patch, he mounted Brownie and headed up the mountain road to the east.

  A hundred yards up the road, the eldon heard a horse come up behind him. He turned in the saddle, but could not see anything in the darkness. He drew the sword, and, after a few moments, Finn could see a lone horseman riding up.

  “No need for that weapon, young sir. I mean you no harm.” It was the gnome.

  “I thought you said you needed an army to travel east over these mountains?”

  “I thought the two of us would make a formidable force. Besides, I am heading east, as well, and thought that we might be able to help each other.”

  The colourful gnome caught up to Finn and the eldon sheathed his sword. The gnome was no more than four feet tall, but he skilfully rode a full-sized horse that towered over Patch and Brownie.

  He introduced himself as Gustav Burgenmosse the Third, and they shook hands. The gnome then asked about Finn’s impressive sword.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I… my father gave it to me. It’s a souvenir from the war.”

  “Which war?”

  “The Great War, in the north. It was a long time ago. ”

  “Oh, that war.” Gustav smiled as he rode. “I thought it took place in the south.”

  They rode slowly up the mountain road. Although it was not paved, it was wide and surprisingly well-constructed. Rocks bordered both sides of it, which made it easy to navigate in the moonlight.

  Finn snuck a look at the gnome and tried to guess if he was really a friend, or just someone who would turn on him when he wasn’t looking. Gustav appeared friendly enough, but looked like someone who had a secret.

  Both were silent for some time, before Gustav started to hum a strangely familiar tune. Finn could not place where he had heard it.

  The road wound up the mountain, and, after sometime, Gustav raised his arm to indicate that they should stop. “We should rest the horses for a spell. Your two ponies look like they’ve had a big day.”

  “They’ve had a hard life, but not by my hands,” said Finn defensively.

  “I know, lad. It would be a cruel eldon, indeed, who would knowingly mistreat a creature in their care. Your race seems to have a real knack with animals.”

  They both dismounted, and the gnome produced grain from a saddle bag, some of which he gave to Finn for his ponies. They seemed to be starving and ate everything they were offered. Finn didn’t have a lot experience with horses, but he could tell that Gustav’s bay gelding was a magnificent beast, and he guessed expensive, too. After their mounts had eaten, the pair grabbed the reins and walked their horses up the road.

  “Why are you crossing the mountains? Where are you going?” Finn asked.

  “I have some business in Krystoria.”

  “With our neighbours? May I ask what sort of business?”

  Gustav paused for some time, before he answered. “I am in the employment of King Wilhelm III and I am on high council business. That’s all I can say, at the moment.”

  “Wow. That sounds grand—working for the king and the high council. What’s the king like?”

  The gnome let out a deep, belly laugh and had to lean on his horse for support so he wouldn’t fall over. It took him some effort to regain control. “You’re a funny lad. I have not been within a hundred yards of the king—ever.”

  “Sorry,” said Finn. “I have never been to the capital. Is it big?”

  “Is Andar big? Yes. As far as I know, it’s the biggest city in the civilised world.”

  “Oh, that big.” Finn paused for a moment. “Can I ask you something else?” The gnome nodded. “What’s a necromaster?”

  “Where did you hear that word?”

  “The bandits said that my friend, Anna, is being taken to a necromaster. What are they?”

  “A necromaster is a person who has turned against nature. They are rumoured to have the ability to summon the dead. By all accounts, they are not to be trifled with. I hope, for your friend’s sake, that she will not meet one.”

  “That’s why I must stop the orcs, before they make it back to this necromaster. He lives in a castle in northern Krystoria. I must catch them before they get there.”

  “You have a big task ahead of you, young Finn. I will aid you, if I can, but only as long as I can. I can’t jeopardise my own mission.”

  The eldon looked at the small gnome with interest. His colourful clothes were of fine quality, as was the short, thin blade that hung from his belt. It looked ceremonial—almost like a rich child’s toy. This man was not a warrior.

  “Thank you, Gustav. You have already been a great help. Anna is my… friend… and I’ll do everything in my power to free her.”

  They walked in silence for some time before the gnome decided they should stop. Both Finn and his ponies were exhausted.

  They tethered their mounts to a weather-beaten tree and rolled out their bedrolls. Finn ate two dry biscuits, and tried hard to conceal a yawn.

  “I will take the first watch,” Gustav said. “Sleep, young Finn.”

  The eldon didn’t argue, he could barely keep his eyes open. Finn laid down on his bedroll and was asleep in moments.

  A high wall of flames surrounded him. The heat was overwhelming and forced him to his knees. Every breath he took burnt his throat, and he clutched at it as he gasped for air. His eyes stung and his vision blurred, but he could still make out dark shapes moving behind the wall of flames. One of
the shadows grew larger than the rest and split away from them. It was a massive being, both in height and girth. The shadowy beast was unaffected as it moved forward, through the flames, and it reached a clawed hand toward the small, prostrated figure. A scream was forcefully ripped from his parched throat, and then everything faded and went black.

  ***

  It was dark. Finn awoke covered in sweat. He had the lasting impression of a dream about something chasing him, but he couldn’t remember all the details. In his sleep, he had started to draw his sword, before a firm hand stopped him.

  “It was just a nightmare, young Finn. There is nothing here.” It was Gustav’s calm voice.

  “What?”

  “You were talking in your sleep,” said the gnome. “Just now, you cried out.”

  “What did I say?”

  “I couldn’t tell for sure. It was in a language I’m not familiar with.”

  “Maybe it was eldon?”

  “No, I know your language well. It was one I haven’t heard before. I didn’t like the sound of it.”

  Finn was confused. He didn’t know any other languages. “The last two nights, I have been having unusual dreams. Ever since I…” Got this black sword!

  “Yes?”

  “Since… Anna was taken from me,” replied Finn.

  “You must care for her very much,” smiled Gustav. “Come, it’s probably time to go. Let’s pack up.”

  “You haven’t slept. I will take watch for a few hours.”

  “I’ll be alright. It’s more important that you catch up to the orcs, before they reach the necromaster.”

  Finn looked around, expecting to see the beast from his dreams in the shadows. There was nothing, though, and the mountain was quiet.

  Finn stood, rolled up his bedding, and collected his belongings. Patch snorted and didn’t appear to be enthusiastic about travelling before sunrise, but he and Brownie would do their duty for their new master.

  The two riders covered a good distance, before the sun rose that morning. They rode mostly in silence. Finn was deep in own his thoughts, and Gustav was silent out respect for the young eldon.