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by David

  “Mine is the only white horse in this camp,” said the man.

  “Will no one trouble me for taking your mount?” Loric questioned doubtfully.

  “If any man troubles you,” the man returned, “tell him Lord Aldric sent you to fetch his steed. Tell him also that any man who hinders you shall have to answer to his lordship.”

  Loric answered, “I will go and retrieve your steed, just as you have asked me to do, lord.”

  With that, Loric offered a slight bow and departed in search of Sunset and the white horse.

  He espied his own stallion first, for he was like a fire burning amidst the masses. He hastened to prepare his horse for the ride ahead. Then he scanned the rope enclosure in search of Aldric’s steed. It took only a few minutes to spot the animal. Its dazzling white coat and mane ensured that it would stand out from other mounts.

  Loric paused to admire the magnificent creature before going to retrieve it. He presumed that the finely ornamented saddle resting on the stump nearest the horse was in fact Lord Aldric’s riding gear. Three impressive towers had been embossed in the leather. The inlay was silver, and the tip of each tower was set with an emerald. Loric tossed the saddle onto the snow-colored mount and pulled the girth strap tight. He grabbed the matching saddlebags and made to lead the horse away when someone shouted, “Hey! You there! What are you about?”

  The sudden outburst startled Loric, but he drew a deep breath and calmly answered, “Lord Aldric asked me to fetch his horse. He said that any man who hinders me in my task must answer to him.”

  That was enough for the man, who said, “By all means, hurry then. I have no desire to deny or delay milord’s wishes.”

  Loric bade the man goodbye and hurried back to the spot where he had last seen Aldric. The lord had moved along a hundred yards or so, but he had not ceased issuing commands to his men. In fact, he was giving a long stream of instructions to his subordinates when he chanced to notice Loric. Satisfied that all was being done as he wished, he relaxed visibly and grinned at the young traveler from Taeglin.

  “I see no one was willing to stand in your way,” he remarked. As Loric nodded in the

  affirmative, he added, “Good.” There followed a hurried inspection of Loric’s work, after which Aldric grunted his approval and shared, “I deemed you worthy to handle this task with the class of your noble station, and you have passed my test. Now, ride with me.”

  Aldric signaled to his captains, who in turn bellowed orders for their respective companies to fall in. For a large force, the men fell in line with impressive speed. This was an organized host. Moreover, it was a well-ordered, properly trained group of soldiers, and Loric felt assured in his assumption that the credit belonged in the gauntleted hand of Lord Aldric himself. The man was unlike any man he had ever met before him. There was cool authority in his commands, yet there was respectful attitude toward the men in his service. Without knowing anything else about the lord, Loric approved of him.

  “We must be on our way,” said Aldric. His columns of soldiers stood stock still behind him, patiently awaiting the order to march. “Forward!” Aldric shouted, loosening the reins of his white horse.

  Aldric, Avalar and Avalana rode at the head of the host, with their guards forming screens to either side of them and Loric trailing just behind them. The sun broke free of the clouds, at once warming hearts and bodies, for the morning had been chill and gloomy in the aftermath of the previous night’s torrent. Aldric and his guests talked gaily as they rode, and had it not been for the host of soldiers streaming along behind them, any witness of their passing would have thought they were on a picnic.

  King Avalar spoke long of events in Regalsturn, but eventually, he fell silent. The lasting pause made Loric uncomfortable. Aldric appeared unsettled about something. Finally, he spoke.

  “Your Greatness, I do not wish to seem rude, but our young friend and I have pressing matters to discuss, and we need privacy. Would you excuse us for falling back away from the column?”

  Avalar looked serious, perhaps distrustful. The expression lingered. Loric feared he might have been kindling to start a fire between two great lords, until the king’s face softened into a pleasant smile and he assured Aldric, “You are not in the least being rude. I understand the need for conversations of private natures. I excuse you both. Go now and resolve these matters with my blessing.”

  Aldric thanked the monarch twice. Afterward, he wheeled his mount around and motioned for Loric to follow him. At Loric’s direction, Sunset cut an invisible circle on the Old King’s Way and bolted into a jog to pace the white horse. When they were twenty yards from the moving column, Aldric spoke hesitantly, choosing his words with great care as he said, “I understand you are from Taeglin.”

  “That is correct, lord.”

  “A wonderful farm community,” Aldric commented, his tone sharpening as he went on, “but not the place where one would expect to find the armor and weapons of Sir Logant! How did you acquire the trappings of a noble knight, young man?”

  Loric was taken aback by the sudden edge on Aldric’s voice. He was bewildered and afraid.

  His temptation was to lie. “I did not know....” Loric began, at once faltering when he met Aldric’s keen green eyes, and he felt his heart jolt onto two sword points.

  Those sharp eyes seemed to see all, know all. They said unto Loric what Aldric had left unsaid, warning him, I will know your lie. “You did not know that was the blade and armor of Sir Palendar son of Galendar, formerly the Lord of Belgandost, the Guardian of the Kingdom and the First Knight of Beledon and Moonriver, whose fathers have worn those items since the days of Sir Logant?” he questioned dubiously.

  In truth, Loric did not know any of those statements to be factual until Aldric said them. It was unusual to hear his father’s full name and array of titles. The length of honors accorded Sir Palendar only added to Loric’s burden of guilt, so he sighed and confessed, “I stole the sword and armor from a hidden compartment beneath my father’s barn, lord. I am no more a knight than I am a soldier. I am a common thief. Your men should flog me or jail me.”

  “It is not enough to steal, but now you would presume to be a lord?” Aldric questioned, arching his right eyebrow to punctuate his question.

  The accusation caught Loric at unawares. He opened his mouth to protest, but unintelligible sounds stumbled forth in broken syllables. “I--uh--ah-”

  Aldric mercifully stopped him. “You have passed sentence that was not yours to pass,” the lord explained. Before Loric could object, he went on to say, “I see a young man who took his inheritance, unbidden, by his own admission. I see the son of a man who is not so common. I see a son who is not so common.” He raised his index knuckle to his lips and concluded, “Your crime was petty, if it can be considered a crime at all.” His eyes shifted, telling Loric he had thought of another crime, worse in its magnitude, but he clearly considered it best left unspoken.

  Aldric caught and held Loric’s stare, before he went on, “It is Lord Garrick’s place to judge you, but as his vassal lord, and the Lord of Egolstadt, I am fit to render judgment in his stead. Some would say to do as you have suggested, and have you jailed or beaten.” He watched Loric, although he made no comment on what he saw. “Others would say to send you back to your father under guard and let you face him as a man and tell him what you have done.” Again, Aldric measured Loric with his stare. At length he said, “But I ask you this: is not your burden of guilt the greatest punishment of all? For all that your admission to me has released you from this guilt, I would bind you to stay with me and thereby deny you opportunity to return to your father and find his forgiveness. Moreover, I would have you pledge your ill-gotten sword to my service, so that each time you are forced to act upon my will, you will be reminded of your deed and learn wisdom from it.”

  “But, lord,” Loric protested, “I would offer my sword to Lord Garrick. I-”

  Aldric stopped him with stern words, saying, “I
t is not your sword to pledge, and so you have forfeited your right of choice in this matter.” Aldric softened his expression and offered,

  “Your choice is to render this weapon unto me by your solemn oath, and by extension unto my overlord Garrick, or else forfeit it to me and fight like a peasant conscript in the battles ahead.

  Which will you choose?”

  Loric did not like his options, but it was clear there was only one to take. Aldric would ransom the gear of his fathers for service. There was no other way to get it back. It was a hard play. However, Loric had to admit, it is effective. Loric nodded, offering, “I give you my promise to swear, lord. My sword--the blade of my fathers--will be yours.”

  “Excellent!” Aldric exclaimed in reply. The lord reached down to his side, from whence he produced a large sack. He tossed the clattering bundle to Loric and commanded him, “Wear these as well as your father wore them, but do not wear them in the presence of Lord Garrick, or even within his stronghold. Swear your loyalty to me, and I will personally see to it that you are restored to your rightful place, Loric of Taeglin.”

  Loric lost the greater meaning of Aldric’s assurance to restore him to his rightful place, as he pondered how the man had come to know his name. There had been no formal introduction between them, and Loric did not remember giving his name to the Lord of Egolstadt. Avalana was the only person in camp to have heard it spoken, but there had been no opportunity for her to share it with Lord Aldric. To Loric’s recollection, it had never come up in conversation.

  The young traveler shrugged the matter off in favor of dismounting to inspect items from the bag. As he withdrew the sword from the folds of burlap, Aldric remarked, “Sir Logant had that forged after his brother, King Lornigan knighted him. Valdigar Steelbender, who was perhaps the finest smith Beledon has ever known, crafted that weapon upon his anvil.”

  As the greater weight of Aldric’s words finally struck Loric, he asked, “What do you mean, when you say restored to my rightful place, lord? Surely you do not suggest the Seat of Belgandost?”

  “Peace! Be still, son of Palendar!” Aldric snapped. “There will be time for that discussion later. For now, be content to know that you have a friend in me. I will do everything in my power to keep you from harm until you ascend to your birthright. You will have to trust your sword arm and that chain hauberk to see you safe where I fail you.”

  Loric’s mind was awhirl with questions for which he had no answers. Why not tell me now?

  he wondered. What does he mean by saying, ....keep you from harm? Am I in danger? He felt as though he could trust Aldric, yet he could not help but think, Friends do not keep secrets from friends. Does that mean this man is playing me false?

  Before Loric could say anything, Aldric grinned and mused, “That chain mail is finer than most men’s plate. It is light and true. Valdigar was truly a master of his forge. Wear it well.

  Carry on the tradition of the Logantian Knights, even if you have been raised a mere farm lad.

  That armor shall serve as a good protection for you on the battlefield.”

  Loric slipped the clinking ringlets over his head and let them jingle into a comfortable position. When he looked into the sack for his red surcoat, he discovered a forest green replacement. The silhouette of the armored knight had been ousted in favor of the same three towers that were embossed upon Aldric’s saddle. Tall oaks flanked the outermost columns, and an emerald stud tipped all three spires. Loric looked from the surcoat to Aldric, who explained,

  “The Emerald Spires may take some getting used to, but I could not have you traipsing about in Logantian Red with the Guardian Knight on your chest, could I?”

  Loric slowly shook his head and answered, “I suppose you are right, lord.”

  Aldric chuckled, but he did not share the source of his humor.

  Loric tugged the surcoat over his steel rings and inquired, “What is so funny--if I may ask, lord?”

  “You may ask, but I feel no inclination to answer your query, son of Palendar,” replied Aldric. “I guess I should stop calling you that, before I let that slip to the wrong person.”

  “What do you mean, lord?”

  “I mean there are dangers that come with your identity,” Aldric explained, “which are the reasons I would have your oath to stow that sword away before we arrive at Moonriver Castle.

  As you have already seen and will soon discover, I have replaced your surcoat and your shield.”

  Aldric raised a halting hand and assured Loric, “Not to worry. I am keeping both items safe for you, until you are restored to your proper place, far from dangers at Moonriver. Now swear.”

  “I will swear on one condition, lord,” answered Loric, now partially seeing the heraldic green shield Aldric had bestowed upon him in place of his father’s round red shield.

  “Conditional oaths make me uneasy,” Aldric replied. Upon looking Loric over, he sighed and conceded, “Let me hear this condition, before I agree to meet it.”

  Loric forgot about the shield and turned his gaze upon Aldric. “Tell me what wrong my father did that I am in danger now,” he said, his nerves adding a tremulous tone to his words.

  Aldric smiled and laughed. “I can meet this condition, and I will.”

  “Go on, then,” pressed Loric, absently plucking his helmet from the sack and resting it high atop his head.

  “Your father did nothing wrong,” Aldric assured him.

  “Then why am I in danger?” Loric demanded. “Why all this secrecy?”

  “I did not agree to answer those questions,” Aldric pointedly reminded him. “Those matters are for another time, another place. Now swear,” he commanded.

  “I swear to hide my sword before we come to Moonriver Castle,” Loric vowed.

  “One oath down: one to go,” Aldric remarked with a broad grin. “When we come to the

  banks of Moon River, I would have you fulfill your promise to me and swear your allegiance.”

  “Yes, lord,” Loric agreed.

  The young traveler from Taeglin had gained support unlooked for from the Lord of

  Egolstadt, who said to be--and seemed to be--his friend. This friendship could ultimately see him raised to lordship in Belgandost. Nevertheless, it was hard to measure the cost of that high seat, which came attached to a promise to swear.

  Chapter Seven

  The Bushubu Spear

  Loric considered the oath he had promised to swear while he finished examining his

  equipment. What happened in the days when Palen wore his knightly armor and sword in the halls of Great Donigan’s heirs? Loric needed to understand his father’s departure from Belgandost. Surely, there were reasons for it. He cursed his decision to throw away The Knightly Log of Sir Palendar. My answers were likely there written, he concluded.

  Denied the knightly log by his own foolishness, Loric studied the decorative scabbard of his father’s sword, fingering its golden inlay. The pattern glittered in the morning light. He let his hand shift to a firm grip about the hilt and pulled two inches of glimmering steel from its leather housing. Only the diamond in the pommel shimmered more than the blade itself. Loric shoved the sword back into its scabbard and strapped it about his waist. Then he shouldered his replacement shield. He was a knight once more by trappings, but he was still only Loric of Taeglin by name as he mounted Sunset.

  As Sunset trotted forward, Loric pondered Aldric’s motives. At least in part, he seemed a valuable ally for a young disfranchised nobleman like the son of Palendar. However, Loric wondered why the Lord of Egolstadt was so eager to see him restored to his rightful place. What does Aldric have to gain by raising me to knighthood and lordship? It was a tricky question with an elusive answer. Loric could not help but wonder how many other lords might make him such promises in return for an oath of service. Still, he liked this man, Aldric. If only he could trust him....

  A fierce debate raged within Loric. Could the Lord of Egolstadt truly see him restored to his fath
er’s place as a Logantian Knight and the Lord of Belgandost? He wanted to open his mind to that belief, but it seemed like the stuff of a storyteller’s fancy. As Loric considered the peril Aldric perceived in him wearing his Logantian devices, and therewith declaring himself the Heir of Belgandost, it suddenly came clearer to him. No matter how he was introduced at court, he would seem a threat to Lord Garrick, who now controlled his birthright. Surely, Lord Garrick would not harm me, he thought in stubborn denial. Another possibility loomed on the edge of that unwelcome explanation. Loric’s heart constricted and his blood ran chilled. Aldric would use me to reverse his fortunes in Belgandost and Beledon as a whole, Loric realized, now doubting the wisdom of his promise to swear. He would play me like a trump card in his struggle for kingship. Does Aldric truly desire the crown? Loric was not sure. It did not seem to fit the man, but Loric was quickly learning that nothing about highborn folk seemed to fit them. Perhaps that was because they were accustomed to parading about in costumes and masks that concealed their true personas, with each one made to fit a different occasion, as if every interaction with others was little more than a liar’s gala. Should I swear to this man, when I doubt him? Loric wondered.

  I made my promise to Aldric, and so will I swear to him, Loric reaffirmed. My honor must uphold me, even when I hold Aldric’s honor in question.

  “Lord,” Loric asked Aldric, “would it not be wise to tell Lord Garrick who I am?” He

  watched the man, as he pressed his point, suggesting, “He is the Lord of Durbansdan and Belgandost, and as such, he holds the power to see me restored, does he not?”

  Aldric looked agitated. He sighed to vent his frustration and explained, “This all ties to things I would discuss with you another place-”

  “-another time,” Loric finished with him.

  Aldric went on, unperturbed by Loric’s ability to end his sentence. “There are forces at work in this kingdom that you cannot fully understand.” He raised his hand to halt Loric’s objection and continued, “And even if you did understand them, the hot blood of your youth could cause you to act rashly. There are powerful men, who might fear you gaining influence or misjudge your intentions.” Aldric shook his head, saying, “No, Loric. Now is not the time. It is too dangerous.”