by Jason Jones
“I have eight thousand people just north of this city, prince of Armondeen. If it is numbers you wish to threaten upon my friends, I would withdraw, were I in your boots.”
Cristoff drew his blade, looked to the corners and shadows, he felt them and saw, five of them. Shaggy men with dark eyes and blades, waiting, hidden to everyone else here it seemed. He pointed with his longsword as he spoke.
“And tell your dark spectres, those in the corners there and there, that I see them plain as daylight.”
“So a lord from Harlaheim with the rabble of peasants and wagons I heard of from my scouts, wishes to side with Evermont in a free city? You are far from home, and a fool. You have no soldiers, just sunburnt refugees.”
Rohne nodded to his men. Ten went out and began to bring in a hundred more, another ten of his men tossed small pouches of coins into the crowd. Within moments, the coins of gold were confiscated by many a man, and more blades drew in the tavern.
“I say, gold buys much assistance, and silence here. These men are planning an assault on Armondi soil, and I ask you fine folk to make it as if they never were, quietly.”
Hundreds of Armondi soldiers crowded in, then hundreds of patrons with daggers and hidden swords and maces stepped forward. Cornered with nowhere to go, the lord, the knights, their guards, and the mismatched troupe of minstrels backed up against the walls. Dalliunn growled low, Tannek drew his shield and tapped his axe to it twice, then Cristoff stood over the crowd, up on a chair, with an undeniable presence that seemed brighter and stronger than it should normally be. His armor glowed and hummed, ever so slightly. Fifteen on nearly four hundred, half of them drunk or no, Cristoff had to distract as long as he could to avoid their slaughter.
“Ye’ may have had point there Cristoff, this may not o’ been the clearest path o’ action for our survival then. Besides hacking it out to our deaths and standing on a chair, got any good ideas?” Tannek whispered. He thought of his brother, the five headed to Kakisteele, and of dying bravely in a few moments.
“I am Lord Cristoff Bradswellen the Third, exiled from Harlaheim, man before Alden, and seeker of a new freedom here in the west! I search for ancient Mooncrest and lost Kakisteele, and follow the bravest of souls, to a greater glory! Would there be any honor in No Kings Well?! Honor to stand against a conquering prince who would cowardly steal the dreams of others?! Honor to fight against the son of a king who buys loyalty today, and once king himself, may merely demand it tomorrow?! Is this not a free city? Does not the intrusion on hope inspire you to retaliation? Or, would the men of Freemoore simply be bought?! If no, and I know the answer is a mighty nay, stand here with me now and let us not bleed alone!”
His voice captivated, summoned a respectful silence, and all eyes were on him for but a few short moments. Then, laughter the likes of a drunken mob surrounded by a thousand hilarious jesters, even the Armondi guard and their prince could not help but chuckle. Drinks tipped back, rusty steel waved in the morass of patrons, and the crowd tightened closer.
“Oh brother, we be dead men now, Vundren help us.” Tannek grumbled and eyed his first targets for his axe.
“You see, Harlian, loyalty is ensured by the men with the gold to see it fed. Your feathered cross and fine words mean a waste of air has occurred. Nothing more. As I said, you are far from home.” Prince Rohne drew his scimitar high, his men went en guard, yet the calm moment before the order to commit bloodshed was broken, by a single arrow.
Thewwwmmm!
The arrow whisked past Rohne’s face and landed into the wall, intentionally missing. The pull of bowstrings by perhaps one hundred or more could be heard from every corner and even outside the tavern. People backed up, muttered a bit, and many elves were revealed in the crowd and second story vantages, all aiming at the Armondi soldiers. The laughter stopped abruptly.
“The elves of Old Aloeste, and the new, we hear your call, Cristoff the Third! I say, send the Armondi home feathered with flights! Aariss Diravas and my Riverbows stand with you!” An elf with long brown braids, a wedge of pointy nose, and a fierce stare, smiled mischievously at Rohne as his men kept steady aim throughout the tavern. He winked at the prince as the young noble looked for the origin of the arrow that dared whisk past his face. He nodded to rest his suspicions.
Longblades drew from ragged men and women throughout the cluttered tavern, nearly two hundred suddenly stood on balconies, bartops, and in the doorways. They nodded to a shorthaired woman, one with many scars, and chain links under her peasant garb. Cristoff had seen her earlier, same with the elves, as if they had been waiting for something. She nodded in return and pointed her blade wrapped with a white strip of cloth around the hilt, like all the others in her mercenary band.
“Julia Whiteblade and the Peasant Swords of Freemoore will shed blood with anyone that stands against Armondeen, for any cause!” Serious, with not even a hint of a smile, her command and vow brought hushed whispers. Many that had stood with the Armondi in the tavern, put their weapons away and settled back into the crowds, yet were intent on keeping the gold.
“Master Aariss and Lady Julia, your words are heard and held!” Cristoff now pointed his blade directly down at Prince Rohne. “Far from home Prince, but even here, some heed the call of honor.”
“Ohhh, I am gonna like this now. I think the odds are a bit more square then, come on prince, make yer’ move.” Tannek Anduvann smiled, teasing with his axe while Dalliunn growled a feline warning and gripped his fingers over the handle of Zen’s warhammer. Jardayne and Codaius raised their greatblades in a high guard, and all men were ready for a brawl of blades and blood.
“What ye’ waitin’ for boy? An invitation to---” Tannek interrupted himself, he heard something outside, it was stomping steel and chanting. An army this time, thousands. No, his men were coming, he knew their steps by heart, and he smiled so wide it hurt.
“No, on second thought, just wait a few more minutes there Prince. I think me brother, he would like to meet ye’.”
Vuumber! Vuumber! Vuumber!
It echoed from the south side of the city, undeniable, the dwarves of Marlennak were marching into Freemoore. Armondi scouts rushed in, took a fast bow, and whispered into Prince Rohne’s ear. He nodded, smiled, and kept his composure well for the information he received about five hundred armored dwarves heading this way. He furrowed his brow, as if a difficult decision had to be made, when he was told that no sign or trace of Saberrak the gray minotaur or his companions could be found in the free city. He looked to the surrounding archers and mercenary gangs, then to the few from Evermont, and lastly at his men as the marching grew closer.
“It seems my father, the noble King Ian Viorius of Armondeen, has nuances in his ailing health. This little foray that I would most enjoy finishing, will have to be postponed until a later time. My sovereign apologies.”
Rohne sheathed his scimitar. He knew he was now evenly matched here at No Kings Well, and that five hundred more arriving would only worsen his chances of victory. He thought of how Freemoore would look once his kingdom took it by force, and burned this tavern to the ground.
“Pity, best be careful Prince Rohne.” Sir Codaius sheathed his greatsword under his arm.
“And why is that, great Bear of Evermont? Are you eager to see your blood lining these walls?”
“No, but I have heard that that cowardice is rather contagious, tis the last thing an ailing king need catch at his end. Perhaps you should keep your distance from your father.”
“Your words have just marked you dead Codaius, and all of those with you, I will not forget it. Should you travel to the curselands, or even think it, you will be spared no quarter.” Rohne sneered and turned his back to them. Chin high, surrounded by soldiers, he made for the nearest exit.
“Men of Freemoore, you have been dually warned. It is time Armondeen showed you a bit of rule. You would be wise to remember this day, and remember my face.”
Thewwwmmm!
Another arrow
whistled past his hairline, landing into the doorframe and wobbling there. Rohne grabbed it and kept his pace down the steps.
“Your face will see many of those should your men ever return, Prince of Armondeen! ” Aariss of the Riverbows lowered his bow and raised his hand high as Prince Rohne mounted his armored stallion.
“Three cheers and a round of wine for Evermont and Lord Cristoff the Third!”
Arah!
The timed steps of steel plate, the sudden stop of the former Southern Outguard Scouts of Marlennak, it had everyone in the tavern on edge. Black plate and chain, shields all on the left, spears in hand, battle axes on their hips, the red bearded brigade turned in formation to face No Kings Well. A plump dwarf with a shaved head looked around at the departing force barely the size of the one he led, shook his head, and entered the tavern.
Tannek rushed over to his older brother, put one arm around his neck, and laughed in a rough embrace. “Brother, that timing was perfect! Did ye’ see the looks on their faces? Damn Armondi Prince and his men, you done good Drodunn Anduvann, done good.”
“Whose faces, what ye’ spattin’ about then Tannek?” Drodunn wiped his sweating head, looked around the packed pub all staring at him.
“The prince, the men, ye’ scared em’ off ye’ did. When ye’ came to our aid, saved our arses in truth, I be proud o’ ye’.”
“Oh, that? Sorry, I just wanted to feel what it was like to march the men around a bit. I was, well uh, just showin’ off ye’ know, the men wanted to see the city and all, so did I. What prince? Was there trouble? Did ye’ get the names o’ anyone that----“
“Ye’ mean to tell me that was by accident?” Tannek smacked the breastplate of his priestly older brother, hard.
“Nothing is by accident brother, Vundren told me in me prayers this mornin’ to take a stroll in the city. Didn’t feel to go alone in this cesspool, so I done brought the boys.”
“Vundren be praised.” Tannek looked to the ceiling of the tavern, then to Drodunn’s hammer and moons, then felt the hand of Cristoff on his shoulder.
Soon, Drodunn found himself surrounded on the steps by people he had never met. They all stared and cheered as the Armondi forces left Freemoore to the northwest, clapped and threw praise toward the dwarves of Marlennak in formation, and everyone began talking to one another. Wine, ale, and water passed from elf, to dwarf, to free men and women, noble and common alike. The dwarven priest took out his book and quill, to scribe the names of Julia Whiteblade and her Peasant Swords, then Aariss Diravas and his Riverbows, and lastly the brave Knights of Evermont that guarded the Shans o’ Little Door who had met the very heroes they were following.
Before long everyone was talking of Mooncrest, the curselands, and the search for the Kaki Mountains. The elves knew of Tintasarn, south of the peaks, and how to get there by the fastest route around the storm. Aariss Diravis had stated his cousin Arylius was there, guarding a holy shrine with his priests of Siril. The minstrels sang of the travels, the journeys of the five that sought the lands of myth, and the thousands that followed them. Hundreds joined out of adventure and honor alone.
“My lord Cristoff, a word if you would?” Sir Jardayne walked out into the bustling streets.
“Knight General Jardayne, of course. What is it?”
Jardayne let out a sigh. “You truly seek this place, despite the certain death that is said to lay waiting, all these thousands of years?”
“I do. We all do. I have traveled all this way, across the Agarian continent, and intend to see it through. You have met them, you know, I can tell by your eyes.” Cristoff smiled, stroked his tight gray beard, and looked at Jardayne with a serious spiritual stare.
“I feel it, yes. I did when I met them, and I know who it is that will try and stop them. Even if you find it, and it is all that the legends say it is, you cannot take on the kingdom of Armondeen. I know the man that leads their armies, and Harron is not a man to cross. I cannot speak for Shanador, nor Evermont, I cannot summon any forces to---”
“Then join us, help us find them and the dream. Stop finding reasons for no, and look at the divine answers for yes.” Cristoff pleaded with his words, yet kept his noble stance.
“I would lose my title, my honor in Shanador, and I would be exiled or worse than that----“
“I am without title, without my city and kingdom, and in exile. But, by choice. I felt it, I felt it on Soujan Mountain, the word of God spoke to me. It told me to go west. I did not listen to Alden, though I knew his voice spoke to me. Then, they helped me liberate my city from the ruthless king of Harlaheim who occupied it and wanted me dead. Still, I did not listen. Sir James of Chazzrynn waited for me, but I refused to go. I said the same as you, Jardayne. My title, my honor, my kingdom. And do you know what?” Cristoff put his hand on the armor of the Knight General of Evermont.
Jardayne was inspired, it was as if truth itself was crushing him as he tried to breath. His eyes watered. “What, Lord Cristoff?”
“From the time they left Saint Erinsburg, every moment, I felt as if it was a sin against Alden for me to deny their truth and destiny. I slept not one minute, and I regretted every single second of my life. The honor and purpose I was shown, was not enough to dream, because I thought myself unworthy. I was afraid, though I would not admit it to anyone, until just now. Do you know what else?” Cristoff touched his golden feathered cross and then held it up, just a bit.
“What else, my lord? Understand, that I cannot simply side one kingdom against the other on a dream, I…I am not a king..” Jardayne had to look away. When he did, he saw Codaius, the dwarves, and his men all watching. Whether they heard the words being spoke or no, he knew that it was obvious what the discussion was about. He lowered his head, not wanting to look at anyone. Codaius was approaching, he felt the heavy hand of his closest friend.
“Since I abandoned all I have known, taken my people with me across the continent in search of that dream, I have felt more alive than all the sum of my years. Suddenly, all the politics, service to others, and things that I thought important, are not. God is here now, guiding us, I have something to believe in, that I have seen. You and I met them, it was no accident, and where they go, I shall not let them go alone. You have this one moment Jardayne, this one decision when every voice outside would say no, all you must do is follow that voice inside that is shouting for you to say yes, to whatever end.” Cristoff smiled, nodding to those behind them outside No Kings Well.
“To whatever end…” Jardayne whispered the words, deep in thought.
“Yes, the words of Shinayne T’Sarrin. I will leave you to your decision, Jardayne of Highmont, but our caravan heads west, and I must lead them.”
“What are your orders, Knight General?” Codaius looked to the mercenary gangs that had joined, the little minstrels, and their fifty men that awaited by their steeds. He knew when Jardayne was troubled, for he became quiet and looked at the ground, always without a smile.
“Form up with low king Symond, return to Evermont, drink it all away here in Freemoore?” Codaius prodded more.
Jardayne lowered his head, he thought of the men in Evermont, his duties, and the fortress city he was charged with. Saberrak Agrannar, Sir James, the King of Kakisteele, Mooncrest, it warred in his head like a barrel about to burst. He smiled and looked up to Sir Codaius, then put his hand up for his horse to be brought. He took the reins and looked to his men. None of them moved, just watched.
“My friend, you have command here now. My last order to you is to see this caravan, under Lord Cristoff, safely through to their destination.”
“And where will the Knight General be going then?” Codaius grinned, and met the teary eyed and inspired look of his friend as he mounted his steed.
“To Evermont, at a quick pace, alone.” Jardayne reached for a shake of forearms. His men began muttering and talking now, wondering what was going on.
“May I ask your purpose for this journey?” Sir Codaius shook his hand and
smiled.
“Armondeen knows of our friends, they have threatened harm, and that I cannot abide.” Sir Jardayne nodded to Cristoff and Codaius. “I will meet you there, with every horse in Evermont that our low king allows, to whatever end.”
“And if he denies you, what then Jardayne?” Codaius let go of his friends’ arm as his horse began to anticipate the road home.
“Then I will meet you alone, but I will be there, I swear on the Shield of Shanador.” Jardayne spurred his mount, and raced out of Freemoore as fast as the crowds would allow.
“Men of Evermont, take the saddle and banners high! We ride armed escort to Lord Cristoff Bradswellen the Third!” Sir Codaius bellowed out his commands and smiled to the men as they yelled their enthusiasm back. “To Mooncrest!”
“Hail!”
“Ready to head to the Kaki Mountains men, ready to find King Thalanaxe?!” Tannek shouted next.
“Vuumber!”
“Peasant Swords, fall in and protect Lord Cristoff!” Julia Whiteblade raised her sword and yelled her orders to her two hundred mercenaries.
“Aye!”
“Riverbows, lead us west by southwest, the road to Tintasarn through the sandstone peaks!” Aariss Diravas raised his bow and took his hundred fifty elven scouts to the lead of the formation.
“Arah!”
“Shans o’ Little Door, strike a melody for our journey, and keep it lively now!” Tubrey o’ Tarnobb snapped the reins of the wagon, sending his purple caravan and the donkeys into motion.
“Yay!”
Cristoff looked at the line of men and women before him, then to his feathered cross, and then he whispered to himself.
“We are coming Sir James Andellis, you are not forgotten, and nor is your honor. Alden watch over you, over those with you, and I wish I could tell you what your bravery has allowed to happen. I wish I could be there, with all who follow the same dream, and to see what you may be seeing now. God, keep them all safe, keep a watchful eye until we arrive, and let your will guide us as it most certainly has thus far. Thank you Alden for Leonard, Karai, Garret, Kaya, and Rosana. Thank you lord for Tannek, Drodunn, Brunnwik, Codaius, Jardayne, Julia, and Aariss. For everyone we have met, and not yet met, for all of those that have died and may still bleed for our cause, I give you thanks. Amen.”