LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  Terrac, unwilling to partake in the glory, wandered off and left me to deal with it alone. In a different time I would have enjoyed retelling my tale as many times as it was requested and recounting my actions in the most fantastically exaggerated manner possible. But now I couldn’t enjoy the attention because I knew, whatever the others thought, my mission was a failure.

  My thoughts were dark ones that first night back as I sat surrounded by my throng of newfound admirers. I huddled over a bowl of venison stew, not because I was hungry, but because someone had shoved it into my hands. I forced the warm liquid down my throat, reasoning that as long as I kept my mouth full, I couldn’t be expected to talk. I was quickly wearying of recounting my adventure.

  When I heard the sounds of someone’s approach and silence descended over my companions, I didn’t need to look up to know Rideon stood over me. I was expecting this moment.

  “Hound,” Rideon greeted me.

  I knew now was the time to apologize and beg forgiveness for disobeying his orders in following Brig, but I couldn’t find enough fear inside to prod me to it. Instead, I looked up and met his gaze unflinchingly.

  He didn’t react with the anger I expected.

  “The men tell me you are a hero tonight, that you’ve defeated a handful of the Praetor’s Fists and survived to boast of it. They also say you’ve killed the traitor Resid.”

  “I did,” I admitted, bracing myself for whatever was coming.

  “Perhaps I’ve underestimated your courage and skill. You broke my orders, but in so doing, you risked your life to strike a blow for all of us. For that, it seems to be the general will we should honor you tonight. Bold deeds notwithstanding, I warn you the next time you discount a command of mine so blatantly I’ll kill you on the spot.” Here his voice hardened momentarily. “But on this singular occasion, it would be ungrateful to kill a returning hero.”

  He offered the ghost of a smile or the nearest thing to one I had ever seen on his face. “And so, for this night and this night alone, I make you immune to our laws. Revel in your glory for a few hours and at dawn return to work.”

  He looked around at the gathered assembly. “All of us will set to work. There are difficult days ahead, but I’m confident we will survive this setback and be the stronger for it.”

  As he turned on his heel and strode away, I wished I could feel flattered, could know a thrill of joy at receiving this recognition before my comrades. But the time when I would have felt pleased was past. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.

  Despite Rideon’s advice to enjoy the moment, I sought my bed early that night. I was exhausted, and the purple bruises marring my ribs still pained me. I found an out-of-the-way spot, well distanced from the others, and curled up beneath a tall elder tree.

  I woke at one point during the night, thinking I heard footsteps rustling in the leaves nearby and Terrac softly calling my name. I kept still and when his footsteps eventually receded breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know why he sought me, but all I wanted was to be left alone tonight. I cradled my head in one arm and rested my other hand on the finely grained wood of the bow beside me. I didn’t have any arrows for it as yet. I thought in the morning I would ask Dradac to make me some fine new ones, the best he ever fletched. I fell asleep stroking the smooth wood and vaguely wondering that it felt warm to my touch.

  Despite my exhaustion, I spent a troubled night tossing and turning on the rocky ground. For the first time in a long while, I dreamed of the night my mother died all those years ago and of the brooch she left me. Then I dreamed of Hadrian, the priest of Light who promised to teach me about magic if I came to him in Selbius.

  I awoke early the next morning and lay awake, staring up into the scattered patches of lightening sky peeking between the leafless branches of the trees overhead. I was unused to seeing so much sky. The bare branches made it look later in the season than it was, but I knew elsewhere in the forest the trees would still be thick with greenery. Three days short of Middlefest, it seemed wrong to be surrounded by this gloom and deadness.

  I rose and passed through camp, stepping carefully to avoid trampling on the sleeping forms of my comrades where they huddled on the ground. I remembered from past explorations a small spring not far from this spot, probably one of the factors Rideon had taken into account when settling on this site. Finding the gurgling stream only a little distance away, I knelt and washed the sleep from my eyes and filled my waterskin.

  When I rose from the stony banks, I found Brig sitting nearby on a fallen log, watching me. His gray eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, his weathered face creased in the half frown that always meant he was puzzling over something. He rubbed listlessly at the calluses on his rough hands, and his mouth moved as if he were muttering beneath his breath. The sight of him sent a pang through me, but I felt no shock or alarm, only comfort. I shook my head and smiled, noting how the front of his faded woolen tunic was fastened crookedly. I leaned forward to right it for him, as I had done many times before, and stopped abruptly, my hands hovering inches from him.

  Cold reason reasserted itself, and Brig’s image wavered. I had to stop this. Brig was gone. Unless I wished to let go of my reason entirely and live the rest of my life in a world of pathetic imaginings, a place where the dead walked and events I didn’t like could be changed, I needed to pull back from what I was doing. As much as it pained me to do it, I pushed Brig’s flickering image aside and forced myself to see the reality instead. The space opposite me was empty, occupied only by a fallen tree stump with a handful of jumper beetles crawling on its surface.

  But my vision of Brig helped me form a decision I’d been contemplating for a long time. It was as if he had appeared to remind me of things I already knew but had refused until now to accept. Of old obligations unfulfilled and promises broken.

  I returned to camp, where the outlaws were just beginning to stir in their dew-soaked blankets. Someone started to build a campfire, until Rideon ordered there be no fires lit today. We weren’t safe from discovery yet, he said.

  I slipped quietly among the men, found the lonely spot where I had passed the night, and collected my bow. Then I set my back to the camp and my comrades without a word of farewell. No one called out to me or even, I suspected, noted my departure.

  I’d come to a decision, and with this newfound direction a little of the strangeness of last night fell away. I was done settling for whatever fate served up to me. If I followed along the road life set at my feet, the future was already a given. I would be a hunted criminal, forced to skulk within the boundaries of Dimming the rest of my life, wondering daily if this would be the day a Fist’s blade or the Praetor’s noose found me. Such an existence I had once craved, but Brig’s death had opened my eyes to the waste of it.

  It was time to step off that path.

  Read Chapter One of the Book #2 In this Series on the Next Page, or Alternatively, Purchase Book #2 from Amazon Now.

  BETRAYAL OF THIEVES PREVIEW

  TOSSING IN MY HAMMOCK, I try to ignore the gentle swaying motion of the craft, the sickly shifting sensation of the waves I haven’t yet grown accustomed to. It’s a stormy night on the lake, and the winds churn the usually placid waters.

  Quietly, so as not to wake my companions, I slip out of my hammock and draw back the tarpaulin over the doorway of our shelter. Cold wind and wet spray hit my face, whipping my hair wildly around me. Lightning forks through the sky, briefly illuminating the roiling clouds and the foamy crests of the waves. In the darkness that follows, I can just make out the shadowy shape of the docks we have drawn up against and the more distant silhouette of the walls of Selbius.

  I try not to think of what, or who, lies within those walls. I don’t want to remember where I’ve come from or what I’ve left behind. But, unbidden, a memory forms in my mind. The memory is of a brisk autumn day and a trek down a leaf-strewn forest path…

  It wasn’t a long distance from the part of the forest where Rid
eon and the other outlaws were encamped to the old hideout of Red Rock. I followed an overgrown deer trail partway and, when that faded beneath grass and leaves, trusted my sense of direction to lead me on.

  I arrived before midday. Nearing the abandoned spot, I slowed, remembering the Fists would surely have an eye on our old lair. I circled the clearing cautiously, noting the ground was freshly churned by horse hooves and the marks of many feet. Our enemies had come and gone. Scattered possessions, abandoned by the outlaws, were strewn across the ground. The Fists had been thorough in their ransacking, even burning clothing and provisions, presumably so we couldn’t return later to reclaim them. I briefly sifted through the singed rubble, finding nothing salvageable.

  Then I entered the cave. Feeling my way down its darkened passages was disorienting because nothing stood where I remembered it. A row of kegs and a lantern hooked to the rock wall had once marked the entrance to my space behind the falls, but they were gone now. I would have passed the spot by if not for the roar of the water and the dim glow of daylight filtering through.

  It was a relief to discover nothing here had been disturbed by the Fists. I went to my old hiding niche in the wall, dusted away the camouflaging bits of moss and pebbles, and retrieved the leather bundle containing my mother’s brooch. Stuffing the parcel into my jerkin, I also collected the fistful of copper coins I had stashed in the hiding place. These were my only valuable possessions in the world, and I breathed a sigh of relief at having them safe in hand again.

  I lingered another moment, taking a final look around the quarters that had been my shelter for so many years. Then, turning to leave, I staggered into the silent figure that had crept up behind me.

  “Terrac!” I exclaimed, more shrilly than I intended. I quickly modified my tone to one of disgust. “Have you been standing here spying on me all this time?”

  “I have,” he admitted, unabashed. “I looked for you last night but couldn’t find you and again this morning. No one had any idea where you’d gone. I followed my suspicions and the trail you didn’t bother to cover, and both led me here.”

  He looked around. “The place is a mess, isn’t it?”

  I frowned, still annoyed at my carelessness. “The Fists didn’t tidy up after themselves, no. If you don’t like it, feel free to leave.”

  He didn’t take the hint. “Why are you here anyway?” he asked. “It had better be important. Rideon doesn’t want us creeping around Red Rock, and I don’t think he’ll continue this new habit of letting you slide past his rules. He says the Praetor’s men will be watching this place.”

  “Rideon says a great many things,” I said. “But sometimes I need to follow my own promptings.”

  Terrac looked closely at me. “That doesn’t sound like you. You’ve always been quick to jump at his every whim, the first to defend each word from his mouth. Don’t tell me you’re finally giving up your misguided loyalties?”

  “My misguided loyalties are none of your business,” I said. “I’m just beginning to think a few things out for myself, that’s all. And you can wipe that smirk from your face because I’m not about to concede you were ever right.”

  “I’m not smiling.”

  “Oh yes. I forgot you’re too good to gloat,” I said. “Well, never mind. You’ve found me, and now you can leave me alone. I’ve decided to go away for a bit to stay with a…” I hesitated to call Hadrian a friend. “An acquaintance in Selbius. I’ll be gone a while, and I don’t want you trailing after me.”

  “I’ve no intention of trailing after anybody.” He sounded affronted and slightly hurt. “Aren’t you even curious why I’ve been looking for you?”

  “Not especially.”

  “I’m leaving too,” he said. “I wanted to tell you farewell.”

  I hid my surprise. “Yes, well, save your tender good-byes until you’ve spoken with Rideon. I’ve a hunch he’s not about to let you go anywhere. And we both know you’ll never set foot beyond Dimming without his permission.”

  “Really?” Terrac folded his arms stubbornly. “Care to lay any wagers on that?”

  “Since when does the pure-hearted priest boy take bets?” I teased him, amused despite myself. “You know, you’re getting to be quite the rebel these days. One moment you’re wagering, the next you’re contemplating breaking your oath to Rideon. What would good old Honored Thilstain say about all this?”

  He looked a little guilty but didn’t back down. “Never mind my oath,” he said. “Brig’s death has made me rethink a lot of things, including my situation here. I’ve decided to find my way to Whitestone Abbey and the priesthood intended for me. These past few years haven’t changed my destiny, merely delayed it.”

  “Well,” I said shortly, “I hope you find peace at your abbey, slaving over translations and prayers with your broken vow hanging over your head. For myself, I have my own plans, and it’s time I put them into action. Farewell, Terrac.”

  He said, “You sound disappointed in me, Ilan. What makes you so concerned with whether I keep my word to Rideon? You yourself once told me honesty meant nothing to thieves and cutthroats.”

  “Never mind. Forget it,” I said, unable to explain even to myself why I disapproved. Maybe it was merely his hypocrisy that irked me. Then too, he was holding up my progress. I moved to slip around him, but he intercepted me, grabbing my arm.

  “I don’t break my oath lightly,” he said. “I’m running as far from Dimming as I can get, but not for the reasons you think. The truth is I’m afraid. Does that surprise you? Probably not. You’ve always thought me a coward anyway and have never been slow to say so.”

  His tone turned bitter. “Well, maybe I’m not as brave as Rideon’s loyal hound, but it’s not my life I’m concerned about. Not this time. You want to know what I’m running from? Well, here it is, and you can laugh at me if you like.”

  Despite his defiant tone, he was suddenly looking everywhere but at me. “This life—this world you’ve brought me into—it’s changing me, and not for the better. I don’t know what I’ll become if I stay here. I’ve always valued truth and justice; you know that. I’m no Honored One, and maybe I’m not fit to be one, but I’ve still got to hold on to a bit of myself, don’t I? I don’t want to wake up one morning to find myself no different from the rest of you.”

  I thought he flattered himself with such a concern and was about to say so when his fingers tightened around my arm, reminding me he wasn’t the weak boy he had been last spring. He seemed unaware his grip was cutting into me as he said, “What happened the other night at the woods holding… You remember how I found you?”

  I nodded reluctantly. It wasn’t a scene I cared to think about.

  “I saw you kill that man Resid,” he continued. “I watched from the shadows while the two of you struggled. It wasn’t fear that held me back from aiding you. I was unwilling to involve myself in the violence. You understand?”

  I did. Terrac had always deplored fighting.

  “So I hung back,” he resumed. “But suddenly I saw that man nearly knock you over. I knew he was going to kill you right there, and I felt… Fear. A tide of fear and anger like I’d never known before. I was ready to join you then, although I had nothing to fight with but my bare hands. If I was too late to save you, well, at least I thought I’d find a way to avenge you.”

  The only part of his story I found particularly shocking was that he cared enough to avenge me, but I kept the thought to myself. I could see he needed somebody to hear him out.

  He went on. “I was about to rush in when suddenly you recovered, slashed his throat, and as quick as that, it was all done. The fight was over, and I hadn’t even moved.”

  His gaze lost its intensity, but he still appeared unable to look at me. “I cannot tell you how horrified I was when I realized what I had been prepared to do. I would have murdered that man or died trying.”

  So that was it. I shifted uncomfortably, pointing out, “It wouldn’t technically have been murder
. Resid was a traitor who deserved to die.”

  “A traitor to you, maybe, and to your Red Hand, but so far as the law was concerned, he was assisting in apprehending dangerous criminals. So were those other men, the Fists I nearly burned alive in the hold house.”

  I didn’t much care for this turn in the conversation. “You can hate yourself over those Fists if you want,” I said roughly. “I don’t know how to keep you from it. But I forbid you to pity Resid. The scum betrayed Brig to his death and tried to kill me. Your only thought was to protect a friend—or to avenge one, as the case may have been. Both were worthy intentions.”

  “Worthy for mindless animals like Rideon and the rest of you, maybe,” he said. “But not for me.”

  Now he was beginning to sound like himself. “Oh, dust off your gray robes, priest boy,” I said. “You didn’t kill Resid; I did. So feel free to go off to your abbey with a mostly light conscience and spend the rest of your life brooding over the dark deeds you contemplated but never actually committed.”

  His expression cleared. “Then you agree I’m right to go?”

  I said dryly, “I agree that you’ll keep me here debating the question until I do agree, so let’s cut the discussion short. Go to your abbey. Go with the blessings of Rideon, the band, and all the province.”

  He smiled a little. “Now you’re giving away more than you have the power to grant.”

  “I’ll give you the king’s throne if you’ll take yourself out of my way,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve places to be.”

  He looked glad to change the subject. “What exactly are your plans?” he asked. “Has it anything to do with this?”

  Before I could stop him, he darted a hand into my leather jerkin to snatch the bundle containing the brooch.