Son of Soron

by Robyn Wideman

Bannah replied quickly, “Yes, my lord I’m afraid we have. Duke Evollan has refused your offer and wants you to remember he answers only to the king. He is not subject to local lord authority and, as such, does not need or want your assistance in this matter.”

  Count Mavane had feared that the prideful Duke Evollan would not respond well to his offer. He grunted and frowned at the thought. His scouts could be the difference between innocent people haphazardly being accused of wrong doing. With disgust in his voice, he replied “Well, let us hope then that Duke Evollan is as adept at defeating bandits as he is at storming castles.” The count sighed. He suspected this was not going to be the case.

  Chapter thirteen

  AFTER HIS SECOND FIGHT with Tomas Nathan’s life fell back into a normal rhythm. He spent his days in the old routine of lessons with his parents and book learning with the other children of the village. During his spare time, he would take his practice daggers out into the woods to work on his form. He was determined to get past his father’s defenses at least once. Soron would use different weapons during their sparing sessions—staves, pikes, sword and shield, sword and dagger, and war hammer, but the most common was simply a single sword.

  Most bandits and warriors used only a single sword; carry weight was important to looting and traveling. So, Soron trained Nathan mostly with the single sword. Normally, the sword-breaking nature of the daggers was enough to defeat someone using a sword. But Soron, adept in the use of the daggers, was able to counter Nathan’s attempts to lock up his blade. Continually attacking and using his superior length to keep Nathan from scoring any vital blows. Nathan was determined to beat his father’s defenses at least once. In his mind, a maneuver began to take form.

  Fortunately for Nathan, he did not have to wait long to attempt the maneuver with his father. The very next day, Nathan and Soron were sparing again, and again Soron was able to thwart all of Nathan’s attempts to get past his single sword defense. Then, the moment Nathan had been waiting for came. Soron came on the attack, backing Nathan up. He used a downward strike that Nathan would normally have blocked with his left dagger, forcing the blade off to one side while he attempted to counterattack with his right dagger.

  This time, Nathan pivoted on his right foot swinging his body out of the way of the sword swinging down at him. Bringing both blades up, he crossed his daggers and let the sword strike the blades. But instead of trying to push the sword off to the side, he turned his daggers and forced the sword to continue on past. As the sword hit the ground he pushed down on his daggers keeping the weapon momentarily pinned to the ground.

  He used the momentum of pivot to swing his left leg around and behind the legs of Soron. As Soron pulled back on the sword to release it from the wedge formed by the ground and Nathan’s daggers, Soron’s own momentum forced him back onto Nathan’s leg. This caused him to lose his balance and take and awkward step back to regain his balance. During the step back Nathan kept his left blade on the sword, now pushing it off to his left.

  Still balanced on his right foot, he pushed up and forward, bringing him close enough to his father’s body to lightly strike him in the chest with his free dagger. He finally scored a clean hit on his father, the first time he had ever been able to do so.

  Soron had to laugh. It had been a long time since anyone scored a hit on him during a training session, and to have a fourteen year old do it was un-heard of. “Excellent job Nathan, but I didn’t teach you to use a leg sweep or to use your daggers to push a sword into the ground. How did you figure out to do that?"

  Nathan smiled, and replied, “It was the only thing I could think of that might get you off balance long enough for me to get close enough to strike. I knew it had to be quick enough to prevent you from seeing it coming, and then just stepping over my leg and chopping it off.”

  Soron was impressed by his son’s ability to recognize the short comings of his own weapons and create an attack without being formally taught it. “Using two daggers always give you an advantage when it comes to quickly blocking and turning attacking blades. But against a skilled opponent or multiple opponents, you will have to use your body to gain an advantage on the attack. That leg sweep was a good move against a single opponent. Another option is to pivot like you did but instead of following the sword down, let your opponent’s momentum bring the sword down to the ground. It won’t stay stuck like it did when you used the daggers but it will free up your daggers for a quick-spinning attack from two angles.”

  Soron was proud but Nathan still had a long way to go. The training was progressing well. Nathan was now at the point where he was not just reacting to attacks but formulating his own counters, a very good skill.

  As Soron and Nathan continued sparring, they failed to see the set of eyes watching them from the distance, eyes that carefully noted the skill which they displayed.

  Chapter fourteen

  DUKE EVOLLAN AND HIS company of soldiers had been patrolling the stretches of roads outside Salba for several days now. Upon arriving in the area, the duke and his men purposely avoided entering Salba. Doing so would only allow the meddlesome Count Mavane to give suggestions on how to approach the bandit situation. He was sure the count just wanted to ride his coattails on this endeavor. Duke Evollan did not need some minor lord from a low-bred, outlying western city telling him how to deal with bandits. The accolades for this tedious venture were going to be his and his alone.

  For one long and unfruitful week, they had been scouting along the roads west of Salba. Signs, in the form of decomposing bodies dragged off the well-traveled roadways and pathways, were noticed only because of noisy scavenging birds. With the few bodies they found, the corpses remained nameless, stripped of anything of value, flesh eaten by birds and other scavengers. The duke left the bodies to the forests, unburied. Unscrupulous bandits along the northern road that led to the village of Elderwood had been busy. The duke was finally closing in on the bandits, and all signs led toward the area around the village of Elderwood.

  Earlier that day, the duke had sent out his scouts and they were now returning to camp. As he ate the barely adequate roast pheasant and sautéed wild onions, the duke pondered the lack of amenities. On the next excursion the king sent him on he would take a larger contingent of his house staff. A duke should not have to suffer such hardships as he currently was. Taking a sip of his wine, he listened to his first scouts report. “There is a small village to the northwest of here, sir, about a mile through the forest. From what I could tell, mostly berry-pickers and the sort, but I did see a large northern warrior and a young man sparring in a meadow at the edge of the village. Both looked to be skilled warriors, not the sort I would want to run into on a forest road.” The duke took this information in, a northern warrior and a local sparing together. This could be the important.

  Bailmont, his captain, an efficient if not overly blood- thirsty soldier, echoed this thought, “A northern warrior living in a small village south of the mountains? And training a local? If that doesn’t sound like bandits I don’t know what does.”

  Hearing Bailmont’s words further solidified the idea in the duke’s mind. That idiot Count Mavane had a whole village of bandits being trained by a northerner right under his nose. Before Duke Evollan had time to think through his faulty logic, a second scout rode into camp.

  The scout, having been on the wrong end of Bailmont’s temper before, quickly delivered his news. “Fifty or more riders are coming up the southern road and fast. They all look like tribal warriors my lord. They will be here by mid-afternoon.”

  Duke Evollan thought about this for a moment. The southern lands were full of tribes known to be fierce warriors. If these horsemen were part of the group of bandits working out of the village, he and his men would be hard pressed to defeat them together. The duke was no stranger to battle tactics. He quickly surmised the path to victory was to attack first, destroy the village before its reinforcements could arrive. “Bailmont, gather the men, we attack the villag
e now, before those horsemen can help them.”

  Several of the men looked carefully at the duke before one replied, “Yes my lord, but are you sure? There are villages around here that trade with Salba. Maybe this village isn’t bandits.”

  Bailmont, eager for battle, scoffed at this idea. “You heard the scout, a northerner sparring just outside the village miles from where travelers are regularly being attacked? No, it has to be a bandit village. And if we get caught between them and those horsemen, we will be in danger of being defeated. We attack.”

  The duke nodded his agreement with Bailmont. Bailmont was a particularly vicious killer. Putting him in charge was a mistake the duke would live to regret. But at this moment, all the duke could see was the praise and glory he would receive.

  As they charged the village, Bailmont yelled, “No mercy. No survivors. We shall teach them a lesson that will strike fear in every bandit throughout this kingdom.” Bailmont was not worried about reprisals. If any of the villagers were not bandits, they could blame it on the bandits themselves. The duke had never worried about his tactics before. This would be no different.

  …

  Soron and Nathan were in the blacksmith shop when the screaming started. They quickly went out the door just in time to see a villager drop from a soldier’s arrow. Soron reacted quickly. “Nathan go next door, grab the Dollan’s kids. Do it quickly. Take them to the great swamp and wait there. If we don’t come, you wait a week before returning." As Soron spoke he turned back into the blacksmith shop, grabbing his hammer and a knife he just finished repairing.

  Nathan was scared but did not want to leave. “I can fight father. I can help.” Soron turned and looked as his son. Nathan was grabbing his daggers.

  “I know you can, son. But part of fighting is protecting those who can’t. Grab Ava, Rose and any more children you find on your way. But you must get to the swamp quickly. I am going to find your mother.” Soron paused for a moment. He was trying to speak as fast as possible, as clearly as possible. So much he needed to say and too little time to explain.

  “Son, there is a lot about my past and your mother’s past that we haven’t told you about. I don’t have time to explain, but someday when you are older, I want you to go north of the mountains and learn of your heritage.” Soron put the dagger in his belt and grabbed an axe he had sharpened for a neighbor, arming himself further as he spoke.

  As Soron returned to the door, he carefully looked in all directions, scouting for an escape route for Nathan, hugging himself carefully against the walls he advanced to the corner of the building. Nathan followed his father’s lead, stretching out flat against the wall.

  Soron saw enemies advancing. Holding his son against the wall, he continued speaking as he calculated how many eyes would be in their direction. “You have birthrights and one day will have to choose to accept them or not. It will be your choice and I will be proud of you regardless of the choice you make. When you go north, tell them you are Nathan Stoneblood, son of Soron Stoneblood. Whoever you meet will take you to our people or try to kill you—either way, be ready. Your mother and I are proud of the man you are becoming; when this is over we, shall explain everything.” Soron saw that the time to move had come. “Get ready to run on my command. I love you, son.”

  Soron watched the closest soldiers engaged in combat with his fellow villagers. Once he saw them all with their backs turned, he gave Nathan a push. “Go now.”

  Nathan's heart pounded as he sprinted the seemingly forever distance to Ava's house.

  Seeing Nathan escape the notice of the closest bandits, Soron charged out from the edge of the blacksmith shop. Velaina was in danger! He could see her across the village helping a wounded neighbor. The soldier closest to him was hacking down a villager. He never saw the mighty swing of the hammer coming down upon his head, his death unfairly swift. Soron skirted the village, running as hard as he could, commanding women and children to run and hide as he hacked and slashed through the unknown assailants, fighting his way towards Velaina.

  Nathan had no time to ponder his father’s cryptic message about birthrights and his last name; he was focused on getting Ava and Rose, then getting to the swamp. His ears heard the pounding of hooves and the clanging of metal and the cries of villagers in the distance as he burst through the Dollan’s door.

  Edward and Suzie Dollan were elderberry pickers. At this time of day, they were either still out in the forest or at the creek on the far side of the village, rinsing the berries off. While they were working, their two girls stayed with Edward’s father. Edward’s father was one of the oldest villagers and his family had lived there for generations. For years the children of the village had been affectionately calling the elder Dollan “Bends” a none-too-subtle reference to the old man’s walking gait. The Dollan house was just across from the blacksmith shop. Nathan was there and in the door in moments.

  As he burst through the door, Nathan was relieved to find the girls inside with Bends. He hurriedly exclaimed, “Bends, I’ve come for the girls. I've been ordered to hide them in the swamp! “

  Bends was already brandishing an ax; the girls behind him with fearful eyes. The sound of pounding hooves and screaming struck terror in their hearts. The frightening sounds were drawing closer. “We have been expecting you, Nathan. Your father and I discussed what to do if something like this ever happened. The girls are packed and ready to go, take good care of them.” Bends handed Nathan a pack with food in it before turning to the girls. “Rose, Ava, go with Nathan!”

  The girls looked up wide-eyed and terrified but nodded and followed Nathan to the door. Bends made certain it was safe for them to dart into the nearby cover of the pig hut. It was near enough to the bush to provide the children with cover. Bends ordered, “Run, run as fast as you can. Do not look back.”

  They ran with hearts pounding. They ran ‘til they were out of breath. With most of the noise from the attack coming from the east side of the village, Nathan led the girls in the opposite direction, deeper into the woods, following deer trails and wild hog trails. When the sounds coming from the village were faint in the distance, he then made his way northeast toward the Great Swamp.

  While Nathan took the girls into the swamp regions, the battle in the village did not take long. A few of the village members were ex-soldiers from the east or the southern cities. But for the most part, the villagers were farmers, elderberry pickers, wine-makers and other simple folk. Against trained soldiers, they had no chance. Within minutes, most of the defenseless villagers were dead.

  Duke Evollan’s men led by the bloodthirsty Bailmont did not make exceptions for gender. By the time Soron fought his way to Durant’s farm, he found Velaina trying to defend the injured Durant from a small group of attackers. She swung a scythe like a sword, courageously attempting to keep the soldiers from slaying the defenseless farmer. Her blonde hair whirled as she fiercely fought off her assailants. But before Soron could reach her side, a soldier came from behind and thrust his sword into her back, the blade pierced through her heart. As she stood there dying, their eyes met one last time. While the light quickly flickered and faded from her eyes, Soron stood frozen for moment watching as his love fell to the ground.

  Soron roared with rage and despair. Within seconds he reached the group of soldiers around the fallen body of his beloved Velaina. He sliced through the soldiers, his rage-induced attack destroyed all in his path. His hammer crushed through helm and armor while his axe found throats and hearts. But as the last of the resisting villagers died at the hands of the duke’s men, soldiers still thirsting for blood joined the fray against the blood soaked raging northerner who was decimating their numbers. Even with several arrows in his chest the tall northerner continued to slay the attacking forces. More deadly arrows found their mark. Mighty Soron fell. His once towering body fell across the lifeless body of his soul mate. Sword wounds had weakened him. The arrows killed him. Over twenty of the king’s rogue soldiers lay dead by his hand.r />
  Nathan was deep into the woods leading the girls swiftly away from the conflict when the souls of his parents were passing from this world. At that very moment, he felt a pain throughout his entire being that he could not explain. He lifted up a tearful and exhausted Rose. Her arms were scratched as were Ava's. Rose was slowing them down, so he swept her up and piggy backed her. Already, Nathan was thinking of shelter, water and food. Ava was silent, speaking only to reassure Rose. She too was thinking about the necessities, and her parents and her grandfather. Being with Nathan and Rose was her only consolation.

  Nathan was acutely aware of the wind direction as they approached the treacherous swamp. The deadly vapors would follow the wind and kill them if they could. He calmed his breathing once again. If strangers followed them and strayed from the exact paths they were taking, the swamp would vanquish them, claim their bodies and use the decaying bodies to nourish the dark and forbidding trees. It paid to know the swamplands, to follow where animals traveled safely.

  With every visible villager dead, Evollan retired his bloodied troops, leading them back east of the village and into the forest. If the southern riders were allies of the village of bandits, it was far better to meet them in the forest and not on open ground where horses would give them too much of an advantage. The duke was not overly concerned that the village of bandits and murderers consisted mostly of now dead farmers and berry-pickers, women and children alike. The attack at Elderwood was to be another crowning glory. While the duke might now be willing to concede to himself that the village was not full of bandits as his original assumption had been, it mattered not. His justification would be that the villagers were supplying the bandits with food and weapons, profiting from a liaison with murderers and thieves. As long as the bandit raids eventually stopped he would be well rewarded. Any rumors of unjust massacres would be swept away as hearsay, rumor from jealous sources. Evollan congratulated himself for his cunning. He prepared himself to deal with the mysterious riders advancing.