by J Battle
‘A sword does nothing against them, so I left them to my Rockmites.’
‘And how did they fare, your little pets?’
Brudorth turned away from his youngest brother.
‘Food!’ he yelled, striking the table for emphasis.
‘Are they not all dead, brother?’ asked Lydorth, never one to let go of a juicy tale. ‘Ripped apart by the Giants?’
‘Yes, but I mean to have my revenge.’
‘And where were you when this was happening? Were you hiding in the bushes somewhere?’
‘No, and I’ll put you in your place if you carry on with this. I…I had business to attend to; important business that could not be delayed by a roadside nuisance.’
‘Did you run brother? From the big bad Giants?’
Teldorn laughed, and tore a chunk of stinking meat from the joint in his hand.
‘Look who mocks you, Brudorth. One who would run from his own shadow, if it jumped up and doffed its hat to him.’
Brudorth struck out with one fist and sent Lydorth tumbling from his seat.
‘I didn’t run; I walked, and stopped for a little fun with the humans they had stored nearby on the road. Very tasty was one of the females, though not properly prepared for a Trytor’s lust.’
Ashlorn pounded the table.
‘Now, Brudorth. Lydorth talks mostly nonsense, but he is not so far from the truth here. We cannot allow ourselves to be mocked, not even if they are Giants. Where can they be found?’
‘I saw one of them sitting by the road, with one arm half ripped off.’
‘Did you sneak past him, like a mousy creature, frightened to be seen?’ Lydorth was back in his chair, with the lesson from his last comment unlearned. ‘And what about the reason for your little journey? Were you not to be away for weeks? On business too important to be mentioned in front of your dear youngest brother?’
‘I…changed my mind. The season is not…’
‘Was it the loss of your poor rock pets that robbed you of the courage to continue on your journey? Is that it, dear brother? You can tell us; we will not judge.’
Ashlorn spoke whilst Brudorth was trying to come up with a suitable answer.
‘Rizer’s Edge, was it?’ asked Ashlorn, glaring at Lydorth.
‘Ay, it was. And I reckon he’ll still be there.’ Brudorth leaned towards his eldest brother, as if pleased to ignore Lydorth.
‘Well, when we’ve finished here, I might take a little walk and see what all the fuss is about with these Giants. Now, show me your sword.’
‘My sword? But, why?’
‘You struck him with your sword, did you not?’
‘Of course I struck a blow that would have felled a Hoarbeast, but it bounced off his thick skin.’
Lydorth gasped in mock awe.
‘Then show me your sword,’ grunted Ashlorn.
Brudorth matched his grunt, and then he pulled his sword from its scabbard and laid it across the table.
‘Seems to be blunt,’ said Ashlorn, as he ran a finger along its edge.
‘It was sharp before I struck my first blow. I always maintain my blade.’
‘I’ve seen him, Ashlorn, though I’ve never been sure if he knew what he was doing,‘ said Lydorth, smiling as if he was having the most fun possible.
‘Dryan!’ yelled Ashlorn. ‘Bring me my axe.’
A small, neatly dressed man entered the rulehall, followed by two others carrying a heavy axe between them.
‘My Lord Trytor, you wanted your axe?’ Dryan bowed slightly as he spoke.
‘I want the edge of the axe to be ground until it is keener than the edge of this sword, and I want it done within the hour.’
Dryan reached out and carefully touched the sword.
‘Yes, my Lord Trytor, within the hour.’ He nodded to the other two servants and all three of them left the rulehall.
‘He’s dangerous, brother,’ said Brudorth, ‘and he ripped my Rockmites apart like they were made of sand instead of hard stone.’
Ashlorn smiled then, and even his brothers felt nervous at the sight.
‘Well, there would be little point in testing myself on a creature who wasn’t dangerous, I think.’
He pushed his plate aside and turned to Teldorn.
‘Now, before I go, tell me about this trouble you’ve had.’
‘Ah, it was nothing much to speak of. A couple, a man and a woman, they sought to spread discord and hope amongst the people, and I wasn’t having any of that, I wasn’t. So, I had them brought in and I had a word or two with them. They were hard words, I’d say, and neither survived the experience.’
‘Is that the end of it?’
‘Close enough I think. I left their bodies hanging by a gibbet, so they could be seen by passers-by.’
‘That was done well enough, I think. How did you discover the plot?’
‘Ah now, that’ll be funny to hear and funny to tell. They have a son who likes his drink, and he was aled up and his tongue was flapping in front of the wrong person. I have him in the dungeons now. I’m not sure whether I should keep him there or free him and pat him on the back and say well done, boy.’
Lydorth watched the to and fro between his brothers for a moment before he spoke.
‘This son, he is named Garraldi, is he not?’
Teldorn turned slowly.
‘Yes, I believe that is right. Is it important?’
Lydorth smiled. ‘He has a brother, by the name of Cavour. He…does things for me.’
Teldorn snorted. ‘Because you are too frightened to go outside?’
‘I’ve been outside; lots of times,’ protested Lydorth. ‘But, I think you should keep Garraldi down below. He might prove…useful in controlling Cavour.’
‘If he feared you, you would have no trouble in controlling him,’ said Brudorth.
‘Oh, he fears me well enough. You can be sure of that, but he is capable and has his own mind, which normally suits me well enough. But having his brother here, well that might stop unsuitable thoughts developing in his mind.’
‘Well, I don’t care what happens to the prisoner, so I’ll leave him to you,‘ said Teldorn, as he pushed his chair back.
He slapped his eldest brother across the shoulders. ‘Bring me his head there, brother. I’d like a Giant’s head for a footstool.’
Ashlorn grinned back at him. ‘If that is what you wish, brother, then that is what you shall have.’
He stood up himself, knocking his chair across the hall.
‘I’ll take my axe to him and see how he likes that. And I’ll take my foil also, and see if he likes the way it will tickle him. ’
With a nod to Teldorn and Brudorth, he turned and marched from the Rulehall.
Lydorth lingered over his food for a few moments longer, waiting for his other brothers to leave, trying to hide his eagerness to play with his new toy in the dungeons below.
Chapter 10 Lord Richard
‘What will you do now?’ she asked, her voice soft and full of concern.
Lord Richard looked down upon her. For a moment, he didn’t speak, as if there were too many answers to be had.
‘I…I have to see to their bodies. I have to do that first. Nothing else matters until… I have to see to them.’
He turned away; unwilling to break down before her.
‘There, lad.’ She laid a light hand on his arm. ’There’s no rush. No rush at all. When you’re ready, you can let me help you.’
He moved away from her touch, taking a half-step towards his daughter.
She was sitting by the table, with her arm strapped up by Ellaine, but her eyes were elsewhere. What horrors were they reliving? What could he say that was any use to her? Or himself?
‘Leave her be for a moment, lad. She has to find her own way, just as you do.’
Ellaine shook her head as she spoke, for she would not have had this happen, if only she had been able to the see the consequences of setting a Giant on a road.
&nb
sp; ‘Shall I see to her Ladyship for you, Sir? And…your daughter?’ asked Jumba, desperate to be away from the overwhelming grief.
‘No,‘ said Richard, his eyes still on Alice. ‘No, there’s…there is something else I wish you to do for me.’
He unfastened the ornate broach that adorned the breast of his coat.
‘Here, you will need this. Take it to the king and tell him…tell him what has befallen us. Tell him that we regret we cannot attend his celebrations. Be careful that you speak to the king directly, and not to just one of his stewards.’
Jumba took the broach in his broad hand. He looked down at it as he tilted it to catch the light.
‘What else, Sir?’ he asked, quietly.
Richard nodded.
‘You know me too well, Jumba. Too well. You’re right, of course. You need to ask him for aid. We must rid this land of that terrible beast, and I will not settle until that deed is done. Ask the king to send a force of mounted soldiers along with you. 20 or more will be needed, I think. Yes, 20 will suffice to destroy this evil menace. Will you do that for me, Jumba?’
‘Ay, my Lord, I will, and I will join you and the 20, and I’ll help you in this task, even if it mean I perish in the doing.’
‘Good man, that is more than your duty, and I am gratified at you offer. Now be off. The sooner started, the sooner finished.’
Jumba bowed and turned to go. He found Lancer blocking his way.
‘Excuse me, Sir, I have to be off about Lord Richard’s business.’
Lancer glanced over at Richard.
‘I hear you are going to see the king, is that right?’
‘It seems you hear a lot, Sir, if you pardon my words.’
‘Ay, you may be right. But…the king; you will see the king?’
‘If he’ll see me, I will. And if he won’t, there’ll be trouble enough to catch his eye, I should think.’
Lancer nodded, and then he leaned a little closer.
‘I haven’t seen him in quite some time. I think that I might accompany you on this journey, if you do not object.’
‘Why would I object? Company on the road is always a good thing, and I’m sure you’ll have stories to tell.’
‘You might well say so. I’ll just move that pie out of sight, so no-one is tempted to take a bite, just to be safe, and then I’ll be ready. Do you know the way? I used to know the way, but it has been such a long time. I’m sure it will come to me, once the road has warmed my feet. What do you think?’
‘I think we’ll find the way between us, Sir. Do you think you might bring that pie along with us, Sir? It’s a long enough journey without an empty belly.’
‘What? Oh no, we couldn’t. I’m keeping it for…Well, mayhap, he won’t be coming this week, and there will be a new pie next week, in case he comes then, so…’
‘Shall I get it for you, Sir, and carry it along until we feel the need. And if we see him on the way, we’ll just pass it on to him.’
‘Don’t be such a fool. He won’t be on the road, not on a Tuesday. He’s a very busy man, you know.’
With the pie problem resolved for the moment, they set off back the way the party had originally come.
‘I know a shortcut,’ said Lancer, when the curving road hid his hut from view. ‘I think I know a shortcut.’
Chapter 11 Meldon
On faraway Fairisle, Meldon hesitated at the door to the prince’s chambers. He could hear him through the thick wooden doors, railing at the world and everything within it. His voice so filled with anger that he could hardly form the words.
Meldon’s mind was still all twisted on what was best to be done. Could he continue with the plan without the boy? If he was dead or lost at sea, then what could go wrong? Promises could be made and the Stone wrested from his grip, all for his beloved boy. For the prince would do that, give up everything for his son, he was sure.
But, if the boy was found, how would that go? Would he be caught betwixt and between? With a good plan but no hope of control?
And, of course, he would need a new intermediary, now that his previous one was cold and bloody and dead on the floor of his hovel.
He tapped the palm of his hand with the end of his staff. Could the very same weapon slay the prince? He imagined striking him down and standing over his stunned body, staff raised high for the next devastating blow.
It was a sweet thought, and he let himself dwell on it for a moment.
No, he thought, not tonight. For the prince was a big powerful man, and he might brush aside Meldon’s puny strike, and then where would he be?
‘Perhaps I should revert to the original plan I had underway, before Petre turned my head with his wild ideas,’ he said, softly. ’The pieces are already in place. The challenger awaits impatiently, and tomorrow, the second player arrives.’ He smiled then, as his mind ran through the events that would unfold.
Then he heard the prince’s roar.
He would have slipped away, down to the kitchens perhaps, for a late night meal, to wait for him to calm down a little, but not tonight.
There would be no calming him tonight.
Meldon took a firmer grip on his staff, and then he pushed the doors open, with a muttered prayer.
‘Your Highness,’ he said, as he swept into the room, all hesitation gone. ‘It is with deep regret that I must inform you that the island has been scoured, from tip to tip, from coast to coast, and still your son is lost to us.’
The prince spun on his heel and marched towards his steward.
‘Lost? Lost, you say? He is not lost, he is taken. And I will not have it! I will not! You must find him for me, or I’ll be out that door and woe betide all I find in my path.’
‘Your Highness,’ Meldon said, softly. ’He has been taken across the waters, I am sure. He is on the mainland. That is where we must look to find him.’
The prince clenched his fists, and he seemed to glow with the power and ire that ran through him. Meldon could see that he must have renewed his Magic with the Stone, just in the last few hours. There was no limit to what he could do with its heat so fierce.
Meldon marveled that the prince could not see the treachery in his soul as he stood before him, but the prince was not a subtle man, or much aware of the workings of the minds of others.
‘Why would they do this to me? Why, Meldon? What do they hope to achieve?’
‘Why, your Highness?’ Now, he could have given a clear and straight answer to that, if he’d been a fool. Why? Could it have something to do with the fact that the prince’s last eight stewards had died at his hands, as he exploded into the fits of fury that beset him? Could it be that this particular steward wished to break that tradition and stay alive?
‘They seek to control you, Your Highness. That is plain to see. And they want your Stone. Magic is lost to the world. Only here, under your firm hand, does it still pertain. You need no other answer.’
The strength seemed to melt from the prince then, and he staggered to his chair.
‘What can be done, Meldon? My poor boy, stolen and held by rough hands. He is not used to such treatment.’
‘Your Highness, he is your son, and he will withstand.’
‘He’s just a child, Meldon.’
Meldon stood quietly to one side of his master for a moment.
He was surprised to find that the decision was made, all by itself.
He couldn’t face up to this man; not with such power at his fingertips and a temper always on the verge of boiling over. He’d been a fool to start this thing in the first place, but he wouldn’t be the fool who’d continue.
But, as his father had been fond of telling him, there was more than one way to teach a cat new tricks.
‘Sir,’ he began, slowly; carefully choosing his words. ’I have men on the mainland. Good men. They will find him.’
He hesitated for a moment, as if the idea was just coming to him. ‘In the meantime, sir, it pains me to see you like this. Can we not do somethin
g to distract you? You are the heart of the land, and I would not have you suffer so. I have some Harroweed in my rooms. Perhaps I could fetch a pipe-full for you, to help you…’
‘I’ll not forget, Meldon, not for a moment, so don’t waste your precious weed.’
‘Very well, sir. In that case, perhaps a release for your just anger, until we present you with the rightful recipient for your wrath?’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Well, you know that you’ve had a challenger waiting these few weeks. He champs at the bit to challenge you, and he is big and strong. I’ve seen none so big in my time here.’
The prince made no response. He sat for a long moment just staring at his fists as they clenched and unclenched.
‘Ay,’ he said, at last. ‘Tell him that he will get his wish to stand before me and attempt to wrest the Stone from my grasp, though he should make preparations, for this will be his last wish.’
‘And weapons, sir? What will you choose?’
‘There will be no weapons. I will tear him apart with my hands.’
‘Armour, Sir?’
The prince shook his head.
‘We’ll go into the arena as naked as we joined the world, as naked as we leave it.’
‘Yes, sir. I will make the arrangements.’
As he turned away, he found it hard to hide his smile.
**********
The knock on the door caused Maree to drop her cup of tealeaf, for they’d not had a visitor in the three weeks they’d been in the capital.
‘Hold there a minute, if you will,’ she called, as she dropped to her knees to wipe up the spillage with the end of her apron.
‘I’ll get it, my dear,’ said her husband, his big gruff voice bringing a smile to her face.
The floor fairly shook as he walked past her, and he patted her gently on the head with one massive hand.
‘Who be there?’ he called, as he pulled the door open.
‘It is I,’ said the small slim man, dressed all in red, except for the black ruffle at his collar.
‘Good afternoon to you, Mr Meldon. Come inside if you please.’ He stepped back to make room.