“We were just returning from the market to the convent,” a nun said, “when they ambushed us.
“We don’t have much, but what little we do have is invaluable to the nunnery. We are lucky you came along.”
Aron smiled. “Yes, let us escort you to the convent; is it far from here?”
“Just a league or two up the road,” said the nun.
“Please accept our gratitude and hospitality. We cook simple fare but you are more than welcome to join us tonight and perhaps shelter within the grounds of the convent.”
Chapter 10
The Convent
As they rode, Leo turned to Daylon. “Ailin, she rode straight over that man. She seems pretty fearless.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Daylon.
“Ailin was the blacksmith’s daughter at the small hamlet across the meadows from the main gate of Ampheus. It was not on the main thoroughfare, but a meandering trail cast off to the west for those few heading to Windfell Woods. A small wooden bridge crosses the weir of the river that borders the woods and makes it easier to traverse the river without getting your feet wet. It is an odd little hamlet; there is a small mill and a few other dwellings have grown up around it. But that is about it.
“The problem was it was too close to Ampheus. Those leaving the city with a good breakfast in their stomachs would have no reason to stop so soon. Those returning would kick on to Ampheus where lodgings and taverns were plentiful. But the hamlet had two advantages that shaped it and the people that frequented it. It had one of the finest schools and perhaps the best blacksmith in Terramis.
“The schoolmistress had been a lady-in-waiting and with the Queen’s blessing she’d taken a small dowry and formed the school in the hamlet. The air was clear, and when the sky was blue, often lessons were taken under the shade of the tree by the babbling river. The children were challenged to ask questions and explore the world around them. Encouraged to live by values that would be positive to the society around them.
“The children would often be found visiting an orphanage or an ex-guards’ hostel to help with the upkeep of the buildings, or simply share their time with those they found there. It was here that Ailin grew up with Prince Aron. Or Aron, as she called him, as there were no airs or graces in the classroom.”
Daylon momentarily looked forward towards Ailin who rode ahead. “She was perhaps the brightest in the class; studying came naturally to her in comparison to Aron and Aland, who had to work hard to get things to sink into their thick skulls. But she gave her time without hesitation or reward to those who needed an explanation or guidance. She had a generous spirit and took delight as she helped the mists of incomprehension clear from her friends’ heads.
“Her father, the blacksmith, was a large, gregarious man, with a laugh that could shake the foundations of a building. He was never happier than when standing in the fierce heat of the furnace, pounding metal into shape. A large man with large hands that belied a dexterity that could seemingly bend any metal to his will. Such was his reputation that soldiers and nobility were regular customers requiring bespoke armour or weapons.
“Uniquely, her father had studied the mechanisms of the human body. Each pivot of a joint. Each curve of a bone. He’d then ask the soldier to move through his fighting motions, noting any kinks in a stance or swing and then, like a tailor, he’d make the weapons to fit the man, not force the man to adjust his natural style to suit a weapon that was too long or too heavy and wide at the hilt. Ailin would sit on the small wall next to the forge and watch her father for hours. Many of the noblemen knew her name and would tease her or ruffle her hair. But she watched and learned and pestered her father to teach her the theories of fighting and exercises to strengthen her core muscles.
“She continues to practise these routines to this day. Aron and Aland tease her, but for Ailin it is an honour, out of respect for her father, the man who’d spent much of his time patiently sharing his knowledge and encouraging her. She realised how lucky she was and the routines are a way to remind herself of this every day.”
Daylon smiled. “She knew he was not surprised the day she’d told him that she was joining the castle guard, but she noted a certain sadness in that acceptance. She told him she wanted to have Aron and Aland’s backs, and she meant it. But she also promised that one day she would return home and stand side by side with him, learning the blacksmiths’ trade. Perhaps this time watched by her own son or daughter perched contentedly on the wall where she herself had sat as a child.”
*
The convent was secluded. It was situated at the end of a long, winding path away from the trail, which you may not notice otherwise. It was a small, walled dwelling surrounding an old chapel and a small communal hall where they now sat. Beyond that were the nuns’ living quarters. They had approached the buildings and passed abundant orchards of fruit trees and allotments of vegetables. Leo suspected that it might be what the nuns sold at the local market. Other than that, they appeared pretty self-sufficient.
A couple of nuns had led the horses to the stables. The head of the convent, Sister Hulda, led them to the communal hall and greeted them with, “Please leave your weapons at the door. It is customary not to allow them into our holy estate.”
Aland glanced at Aron, who nodded and they unbuckled their weapons and left them outside.
Sister Hulda ushered them to the table and beckoned to two nuns to bring food, placing wooden bowls with steaming bean and vegetable broth in front of them. Though simple fare, its aroma made them realise how hungry they were after their days’ travelling. They tore off chunks of bread, dipped them in the soup, and were delighted to see jugs of frothy ale carried into the room.
Sister Hulda spent time telling them about the lives of the nuns at the convent. “We spend our days praying, meditating, translating and studying religious texts. The nunnery is a self-sufficient community. We plant and harvest crops as well as raise animals. Often, we are called upon to aid the poor with food and housing, along with weary travellers.
“The nuns that were being harassed were returning from a distant village that had recently been flooded when the riverbanks burst. In some small way we had provided them food, and more grain to replace the crops that had been destroyed.”
The sister drank an enormous volume of beer, sloshing ale into her mug, and then sparingly dribbling some into the mugs of her guests. She was a big woman. The more she drank, the louder she was, the redder her cheeks became and the cheekier her language got. Most unbecoming of a sister. Leo also sensed that despite royal protocol and a rather significant age difference, she was flirting with the Prince. The Prince pretended not to notice.
“You are rather remote here,” said the Prince. “How does the convent stay safe?”
Sister Hulda swayed from side to side as she tried to focus on the Prince.
“Life is tranquil here; we follow our daily routines. Bandits, robbers, crooks and outlaws tend to leave us well alone. Many of the nuns themselves come from the local villages and we aid so many of the families nearby. They will come to our assistance if required.”
She paused and once again strained to focus on the small party in front of her. “So,” she said, “tell me about yourselves. What brings you to ‘Windfell Woods’?”
The Prince coughed. “We are simple pilgrims, travelling to the north. We understand there is a monastery in the Misty Mountains that proclaims many relics that we wish to behold.”
Sister Hulda nodded. “Quite, quite; well that’s a long journey you still have in front of you, so you’d better tuck in for an early night,” she said, a little bemused.
“Oh, and would His Highness like a candle for his room or a copper warmer for his bed?”
“Ahhh,” said Aron.
“Ahhh indeed,” said Sister Hulda. “I may live in a convent surrounded by a dense wood, but don’t b
elieve that I have not travelled. I have visited Ampheus many times; do you think I would not recognise its prince? If you are planning to go in disguise, well you are doing a very poor job of it.
“Your average pilgrim is hairy, uncut, barefoot and waves religious texts in the air as they serve their penance. You bunch appear to be out for a stroll in your Sunday best. That’s before you even consider the quality of the weapons you carry, and the cavalry horses you ride. So, let’s try again. Don’t think even we at the convent are not aware that after a millennium Gorath is on the move. So, forgive me if I am surprised to find the Prince of Ampheus roaming about in our little wood.”
The Prince nodded. “Indeed, but our journey must be kept secret. The less anyone knows, the less that may come to be told to Gorath’s spies once discovered. Woe betide the fate of anyone that may possess information of value.”
Sister Hulda nodded. “It is wise enough advice. Though I entered a vow of silence for a year and kept it, no matter how many times I stubbed my toe. Needless to say, I believe we can help, but first, a song.”
She banged her mug on the table and started to holler a rather loud and awfully pitched tune:
“After seven days and seven nights,
We bring out friends from the field to break bread,
As summer’s brightness fades away,
The sun slips from our dwellings,
So autumn comes with golden hues,
We are laden with fruit and crops,
Plenty is revealed upon this beautiful earth.”
Leo’s head filled a crimson red and he wondered who wrote the tunes and lyrics to these songs. More often than not they simply recounted seasonal or agricultural tales, but he resigned himself to listening once more. He reconciled himself to the fact that while the song’s lyrics were limited in substance, most singers made up for this by warbling them as loudly as they possibly could, which was entertainment of sorts in itself. Including in this case, Sister Hulda.
*
The Princess was standing in the courtyard holding the stick in her hands when Sumnar stepped out of the door. He was holding the cloak with Defiance in his hands.
“Now it is time.” The Princess took the sword; it felt so light in her hands as she held it vertically in front of her. Sumnar took his own blade and she closed her eyes. He attacked her flank and she moved swiftly to the side and blocked and parried the blow. He lost his footing a little and pitched forward.
He crouched and swung his sword over the back of his head to block her blow, but she’d begun to swing back round to the right. Before he could react he felt the cold sharp edge of the sword against his neck.
He paused and laughed. “I realise I might be getting old, but I’m still not that slow.”
“The sword, the sword!” exclaimed the Princess. “When it’s in my hands there is electricity flowing through my body. We become one and it gives me the strength and experience of the Pagan Queen herself who held this very blade in her hands. It remembers the palm print of every stroke; and every battle and victory is written in the hilt of Defiance.”
Sumnar thought. “Well, this blade has had an illustrious past and you wield it like a great warrior, so maybe you will have a greater role to play than we realised.”
Once again at supper, the Princess prompted Sumnar to continue his tale.
He nodded and recollected his thoughts: “When I awoke, a small man was sitting in front of me. He had a long white beard and startling blue eyes, his legs crossed under a thin white linen robe.
“He smiled. ‘Well I wonder what is so important that you would risk your life to visit me at the top of this mountain?’ I tried to speak but my throat was so sore that I could not utter any word.
“‘Relax my son. Sumnar, we will have time to talk later, for now eat this.’ He passed me some broth. The steam warmed my face, the warm bowl tingled my fingers as my circulation returned. I gently sipped the thin soup and it warmed me from within.
“‘How do you know who I am?’
“‘I can perceive your mind. I comprehend everything about you. You are an open book. You seek to learn from me and I believe you are worthy of being my apprentice. I will teach you all I have learnt. I have been waiting for you.’
“He smiled. ‘Yigo. It is getting chillier in here.’ I turned to see whom he was talking to and gasped in astonishment. The small dragon sitting behind me seemed to huff in irritation. A little black smoke puffed from its nostrils. With a roar it blew flames that licked the stones the size of melons piled in the centre of the cave. The stones glowed red with the heat, roasting the side of my face. The little man clapped with glee at the look of surprise on my face. The dragon sighed, ‘You know I am more than a firelighter, don’t you?’
“‘Sumnar, you don’t honestly believe that I carried you up to the top of the mountain myself. Yigo fetched you from the storm. I hate the cold personally. I just wish a hermit’s mountain top could be found somewhere warm and balmy, perhaps close to a beach. But I guess a hermit with a golden tan and sandals would simply not go with the image.’
“The hermit chuckled merrily to himself. ‘Tonight we sleep. Tomorrow we start.’”
Sumnar smiled. “Hmmm, well again it’s time for us to rest.”
The Princess frowned at him. “You’re joking; what did he teach you?”
“All in good time, Princess; for now we rest or you will not recover your energy for your lessons tomorrow.”
The Princess had learnt not to argue with Sumnar once his mind was made up. She nodded, stood and walked out of the door, closing it behind her and made her way back to her quarters. She entered an arched doorway and stepped up a circular stairway. As she approached her door, a figure stood as if loitering. They had obviously sensed her approaching and turned sharply.
The Princess stiffened. She paused unexpectedly.
“Ladryn, can I help you?”
The wizard was startled but quickly regained his calm.
“Did you want something?” She could not hide the irritation in her voice as something about him unsettled her. Particularly the fact he was by her quarters.
She could not put her finger on it but decided that it may be best to play her cards close to her chest.
“We’ve not seen too much of you around the castle – keeping yourself scarce?” he asked.
She forced a smile. “Yes, just been walking the grounds and reading in my room, keeping out of everyone’s way. Everyone else is so busy.”
“Quite,” he said, then in a sweet endearing voice, which sounded less than genuine, he continued. “Please feel welcome to visit me and my disciples. I’d be happy to show you some wizardry.”
Alarm bells started ringing in the Princess’s head and warning lights had just lit up in her mind. She knew she should tread carefully. At the same time she knew that something else, some hidden contrivance, lay behind Ladryn’s request.
“Ladryn, I appreciate the gesture, but watch yourself, and be careful what you ask of me. You are stepping far outside the boundaries of your authority in asking me to do so.”
Ladryn stiffened, and in in a sudden change of tone hissed at her. “Tread carefully, Princess; don’t think you can so casually cast aside my advances. You don’t want to cross me or you will suffer. Be sure of that. The King won’t always be here to protect you.” Then his voice trailed off and he realised that he had said too much. He turned and headed down the corridor. The Princess slammed the door behind her but was left puzzled at what Ladryn had meant, or was going to say when he had cut short his outburst.
*
The young brothers were sitting casually on the riverbank. It was a summer’s day. The sun brightened everything around them and they could feel its glow on their cheeks. Insects buzzed around them as if inspired into a frenzy of activity by the sun’s warmth. The river trickled past, refle
cting the sky’s blue hues and shimmering sunlight that reflected off the ripples as they tossed small pebbles into the water.
The boys were alone as usual. They tended not to mix with the other children from the village, their mother had passed away shortly after the younger brother’s birth. Their father was an undertaker and devoutly religious. He homeschooled the boys and warned them against mixing with the other peasant urchins. He would waggle his finger and fix a cock-eyed squint, spittle drying around his mouth as he called them unclean, unkempt and uneducated and lacking the moral fibre befitting his boys.
The elder boy took his younger, frailer brother under his wing and tried to inspire him with tales of how together they would become great knights, their armies conquering Terramis and purifying it of the detritus that surrounded them. In return, Ladryn worshipped his older brother like a god. Even without his father’s enforced isolation from other children their age, he would have followed his brother around like a doe-eyed schoolgirl, mirroring his brother’s mannerisms and seeking his approval.
They were torn from their revelry by voices approaching them from behind.
“Well well, look what we have got here; it’s the ‘high and mighty brothers’.”
“You think you are too good for the likes of the rest of us?” said a second boy.
“I’ve heard you think we are all just dirty peasants needing a bath. Ain’t that so?”
The elder brother’s eyes narrowed as they approached.
“Perhaps some God-fearing religion will sort us out,” the tallest of the three older boys standing behind them snorted.
He stood there with his arms folded. The other boys sneered like hungry hyenas ready to pounce on a helpless prey.
“Look, we don’t need any trouble from the likes of you. We are just minding our own business, causing no problems for anyone,” said the elder brother.
“Well that’s not how I see it. Don’t think we don’t know what you whisper about us behind our backs, judging us, belittling us and all that. We know what your father thinks. My father calls him a snidely weasel. That’s it, old weasel face. And you two are just weaselly offspring.”
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