by James Dale
"Thonbor lies yonder," Sergeant Vanar said, pointing northeast across the great inland sea. "On the farthest frontier of Brydium within sight of the Garhon Mountains."
"What happened to the previous Duke of Thonbor?" asked Braedan.
"Lyonell Th'nar?" the guardsman shuddered "After we've had a few drinks. Better yet, after we've had several."
They rode on in silence for some time and Jack began to wonder what terrible tragedy had befallen the king's cousin. What plague or disaster had wiped out the duke and all his heirs? If he remembered correctly, the Garhon Mountains were home to a large nation of grim'Hiru. Had it been the beast-men who were responsible for the availability of this dead duke's lands? Were the grim'Hiru also the reason after three months no one else had dared come forward to lay claim to the vacant duchy, forcing King Theros to finally bestow it upon a former pirate?
His pondering was interrupted when Vanar began to speak again, pointing out items of interest along their route. There were many stately mansions in the Circle of Nobles, some of them grand castles in their own right. There was wealth indeed in this city and Braedan did not wonder why it was called the Jewel of the North. The home of the Annothian ambassador he spotted without assistance by the yellow banner floating with the lazy breeze above its gates. The Doridanian embassy was also easily recognizable by the twin bronze statues of rearing Val'anna stallions before its entrance, smaller replicas of the pair guarding the gates to King Ellgenn's palace. Braedan had little doubt word had reached them he had re-appeared. How long would it take the information to get back to Kiathan?
Arriving at the gate to the Circle of Citizens, Kirk Vanar hailed with familiarity the young guardsmen on duty. They greeted him warmly in return and saluted Jack's crossed sabers with respect, even as they regarded the Legion Commander curiously. The Dragon Guard was a large outfit, the three squadrons numbering over twenty-one hundred men, but they were a tight-knit unit. If a guardsman didn't know you by name, you were at least known by sight or reputation. Jack being totally unfamiliar to either of them was something extraordinary. Nevertheless, he was waved through without delay. No one would dare don the uniform of a Dragon Guardsman, not to mention pin on the rank of Legion Commander, unless he were a member of the unit. If they didn't recognize him it was simple logic to deduce some valiant legionnaire officer laboring out in the boondocks had finally been rewarded for his service to the crown.
Their reception was much the same throughout entire circle. Each citizen, young or old, nodded respectfully to the two uniformed men, greeting them with a "Good day Commander" to Jack and "Good day Sergeant" to Vanar. Children ran playfully after them, laughing in their wake and fighting mock duels with imaginary swords, until the smiling sergeant tossed them a few copper coins and saluted each child in turn before shooing them away.
Under a piercing blue sky, with a warm, gentle breeze blowing off the Blue Lake, Brythond was a city without a care in the world. Winter was a swiftly fading memory and the countryside was green with the healthy blush of spring. Still Braedan's gaze was drawn involuntarily to the southeast, where he knew dark forces were even now secretly gathering, preparing for the day when they would be unleashed to rape and burn everything these people loved and cherished. How much longer would this tranquility would last? How much longer would Graith sleep?
They left the Circle of Citizens behind, with all its carefree children and courteous elders, for the hustle and bustle of the Circle of Services. Though they soon began to pass many taverns and inns, most already beginning to fill the hour for the evening meal fast approaching, Sergeant Vanar showed no interest in stopping until they came upon an establishment sporting a colorful sign hanging above the door identifying it as the Dancing Unicorn.
"We are here," Vanar smiled, dismounting. "I think you'll like this place. They serve the best ale in Brythond."
Jack followed the sergeant into a narrow alley beside the tavern, to a livery stable where a silver half-Thrakken secured their mounts a bucket of grain and a clean stall for the evening. They left the two geldings in the care of a young groom, whom Vanar tipped generously, and entered the Dancing Unicorn through a doorway in the alley leading into the establishment's kitchen.
"Kirk!" a burly, apron clad fellow bellowed as they stepped inside. His gray hair was cropped short and his scared forehead was beaded with perspiration as he dumped a tray of empty tankards into a wash tub of sudsy water. "If you've not come to pay your flaming tab, you'd best do an about face and march right the hell outta here!"
"Here now!" the sergeant said in a wounded tone. "Is that any way to treat an old comrade and your best customer?"
"Don't you mean old comrade and best moocher?" the fellow asked. "What's it to be lad?"
Vanar sighed and bounced the money pouch hanging from his sword-belt. It clinked noisily.
"That's more like it," he nodded.
"Sirranon," Vanar announced. "I'd like you to meet Sir Jack Braedan."
"Yh's Holy Balls!" the barkeep cried. "The Hawkfinder? In my tavern? Why didn't you say so in the first place?" He cast the sergeant an evil look.
Vanar grinned and shrugged. "You didn't give me a chance."
"You're the topic of the day Your Grace," the barman said, wiping his hands on his apron and saluting Jack in the fashion of the military men of Brydium.
"Sirranon was my company sergeant," Vanar smiled fondly. "Once upon a time when I was a snot nosed private."
"Pleased to meet you top," Braedan said, extending his hand. "And it's just Jack. I insist."
"Well your graa...Jack. Welcome to the Dancing Unicorn!" he said, taking Jack's hand in a vice-like grip and pumping vigorously. "Kirk! Get him the hells out of this kitchen and show him to a table! I'll be with you as soon as I wash these mugs. Hurry now!" he released Braedan's hand and plunged his arms up to the elbows in the wash tub. "Princess Thessa's champion! In my flaming tavern!"
They left Sirranon splashing water all over the kitchen floor and made their way into the Dancing Unicorn. The room of the tavern was all wood and brass and leather, with about twenty small, round tables occupied by a dozen or so patrons, most of whom were military men. Covering every inch of the available space of the walls were swords, shields and various other weapons, along with a multitude of colorful banners and pinions, most tattered and obviously trophies. Vanar led Braedan to an unoccupied table in the center of the room, close to a huge stone fireplace where a merry blaze was burning despite the warm spring afternoon still lingering doggedly outside. Behind the bar, which ran the entire length of the opposite wall, stood a towering giant of a man. He inclined his shaven head at the men as they seated themselves, drew two mugs of ale from a keg beneath the bar and gave them to a pretty young serving girl.
"Hullo Kirk," she smiled, setting the frothing drinks on their table. "Haven't seen you around lately. Where've you been?"
"Broke luv," he laughed, pushing one of the mugs at Jack and raising the other to his lips for a hearty drink.
"Who's your friend?" she asked. "Haven't seen him in here before." Then she noticed the crossed sabers Braedan sported. "A commander eh? Keeping better company these days, I see."
"This is..."
"Thomas Cantwell," Jack said, using his WITSEC identity to introduce himself. He wasn't going to have everyone in the bar fawning over Jack Hawkfinder all night if he could avoid it. Sergeant Vanar raised a curious eyebrow, but said nothing. "Newly commissioned commander of the Thonbor garrison. Kirk here is going to be one of my lieutenants. That's why he's buying a round of drinks for the house!" he finished loudly.
The young man across the table from him almost choked on his beer as the other people in the common room shouted a hearty, "Here! Here!" and headed for the bar.
"Well!" the serving girl smiled. "Kirk's going to be an officer! Maybe now he won't be broke half the time."
Jack had always been impulsive with his generosity. It was one of the few things ingrained him by his wealthy father.
He was also an acute judge of soldiers. Something ingrained in him as a Delta Operator. He was not about to let an opportunity to snatch up Kirk Vanar slip through his fingers.
"A lieutenant?" the young sergeant whispered, as the barmaid left to begin filling orders for the inn's suddenly thirsty patrons.
"I am almost certain the King will let me have a pick officers to rebuild Thonbor," Jack said, smiling over the rim of cup. “He’s been quite accommodating.”
"I...umm...suppose," Kirk replied slowly. "But..."
"Should I have asked first?"
"Well...it's just..."
"I take it by your expression, duty in Thonbor isn't as choice a posting as a Dragon Guard sergeant in the capital," Jack said. "I have a feeling sooner than late, there won't be much easy duty left anywhere in Brydium. You might as well swing a sword earning captain's pay."
"A captain?" the flustered man cried. "Who? Me?"
"Another round on the captain!" Jack laughed.
"Hurrah!" the patrons of the Dancing Unicorn cheered happily as they raised their cups, "Hurrah for the captain!"
"Here now!" Sirranon roared, entering from the kitchen. "What's all this flaming ruckus?"
"Drinks all around!" the huge man behind the bar grinned. "Courtesy of Captain Kirk Vanar!"
"Captain?" the proprietor muttered. "What dragon crap are you spouting Hugh? Have you been drinking on your shift again?"
"He's yet to officially accept," Jack laughed, "but I think he's about to come around. If…he plans on paying for all these drinks. What do you say?" he raised his beer mug. "To Captain Vanar?"
The thoroughly overwhelmed young man hesitated for a few seconds, then a huge smile slowly appeared on his lips. "Aye," he laughed. "I'll drink to that."
"A round on the house!" Sirranon shouted, clapping the young man on the shoulder. "To Captain Vanar!"
The room erupted in cheers and passers-by, drawn by the noise, began to make their way inside.
"Looks like we have the makings of a fine promotion party," Jack observed.
"Yes, it does," the new captain agreed.
"Not to change the subject or anything," Jack said, changing the subject, "but since I've just doubled your pay..."
"Quadrupled!" Vanar laughed. "At least!"
"Since I've just quadrupled your pay," he corrected, "and since I'm about to make you my executive officer, perhaps you would do me the courtesy of telling me a little about our duchy? Every-one has been fairly closed lip about it today. What happened in Thonbor three months ago?"
"grim'Hiru," Vanar said quietly, then drained his mug in three mighty swallows.
"Go on," Braedan prompted, pushing his own drink to the young man then signaling the bartender to pour two more.
"It happened last winter," the former sergeant began after their second round arrived. "There was a blizzard on the Eve of the Feast of Yh’Adan. They came in the under the cover of the storm; at least a thousand, and nearly half again as many of their damn wolves. Duke Lyonell only kept a company garrisoned at Thonbor after the fall harvest. There had never been a need for more in recent years. They were over the walls before anyone knew what was happening. As far as I know only two men escaped with their lives. It took the entire Eastern Forward Legion three weeks to root the beast-men out of the Castle. By the time they retook the keep, there wasn't much left. Completely gutted.
They found their heads in the main hall, all stuck up on pikes like some kind of festival decoration. The duke, his pretty wife, even their three little girls. One hundred and thirteen heads in all. And I'll not say what happened to the surrounding villages, not for love or money. I've heard rumors First Commander Bollinger wept like a maiden when he saw what the grim'Hiru had done. He petitioned the king to just burn the whole region to the ground, but Theros would not let him. The legion spent most of the winter scouring the blood from the walls and burying all those bodies. You will soon discover Jack Braedan, the king did you no great favor by naming you the new Lord Thonbor. You've got a castle all right. What's left of it anyway? There are even several Ithlemere mines in the hills yet to run dry, and some rugged beautiful land so they say, but there's not a soul willing to work it."
"Something we’ll have to change," Jack said. "I could use some help apparently. Think you might be up to it?"
"What the hell?" the young man shrugged. "From the drubbing you gave me today, it appears I have been getting soft here in the capital. Some time on the border will be good for me."
"That's the spirit," Braedan said, raising his mug. "To Thonbor and to Captain Kirk Vanar, its new steward."
"To Thonbor and Duke Jack Braedan," Vanar replied. "May your line never fail."
"Here here," Jack agreed, draining his mug.
The two men fell to drinking and talk of simpler matters. Vanar told Braedan of his family, which lived in Thondil, the eastern most city of Brydium, where his father was a successful merchant of semiprecious stones. To his father's chagrin, when Kirk came of age, he rejected a place in the family business and followed his older brother into the king's legions. He spent his first three years riding border guard as a lance private along the March of Peril, the no man’s land Jack had crossed which separated Brydium and Kadin. When his brother won a place in Prince Thonicil's personal guard, rising to the rank of lieutenant, he managed to secure a posting for his younger sibling in the capital and a spot as a swordsman in Brythond. Thanks to Kirk's established record for bravery in several skirmishes with the desert warriors, he made sergeant less than a year later at the age of twenty-four. Barely a month later, his brother was slain by the Kadinar raiders when they abducted Countess Thessa on the road to Thondil.
In return, Jack carefully revealed a small portion of his own family history, as well as some of his experiences fighting in the deserts of Iraq and mountains of Afghanistan. He also told Vanar of his violent few months with the Brotherhood, including how he'd rescued Thessa and of the Seawolf's battle with the two Norgarthan dreadnoughts. He told the young man much of what had happened to him in the lands south of Brydium as well, but purposely left out any mention of the dark-King and his imminent rebirth. By the time two hours had passed, the pair knew much about their drinking companion. Vanar was convinced he was in the presence of one of the greatest heroes of the last century and Braedan was satisfied he had not been in error with his impulsive promotion of the young guardsman.
During the pleasant evening together, they also imbibed a large quantity of the inn's strong, dark ale; something fighting men, no matter how different their backgrounds, are want to do when speaking of home or past battles. Braedan's head was filled with a pleasant buzz and the sergeant appeared to be in similar condition, wearing a huge, silly grin unchanged in last several minutes.
"That's enough for me I think," Jack said, raising his mug and finishing off the last remaining swallow. "I would be a poor guest if I returned to Count Arthol's staggering drunk my second night in Brythond."
"A poor guest indeed," Vanar grinned foolishly.
"Besides," Jack observed. "If I am not mistaken that last round finished off your coin."
Vanar slapped the shapeless pouch hanging on his belt, which earlier in the evening had jingled noisily with silver, and the stupid grin finally left his face. "So, it did," he sighed sadly. "And I would be the poor guide if the Duke of Thonbor was forced to play the scullery maid and wash dishes in the Unicorn's kitchen because I could not pay our tab."
"You would indeed," Jack conceded. "Shall we be off then?"
"Let's," his companion said, staggering a bit as he stood. He turned his money pouch inside out and with a grimace deposited his last coin on the table.
"Don't worry," Jack assured him with a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I'll see about getting you an advance on your captain's pay in the morning."
Vanar smiled his thanks, relieved he would not be forced to spend his first few weeks as an officer flat broke, and the new comrades began to work their way out of the cr
owded bar, unaware of the six rough looking men who rose quickly from a table in a darkened corner of the room to follow after them.
Night had fallen in Brythond. The warmth of the spring sun collected earlier in the day by the stone buildings of the city was dissipating quickly. Jack shivered in the chill air, which seemed much cooler than normal after leaving behind the stuffiness of the crowded tavern, looking forward with anticipation to the comfortable warmth of the feather bed awaiting him at the Arthol estate. As they turned the corner of the building however, and entered the alleyway leading to the livery, two men emerged suddenly from the doorway leading from the Dancing Unicorn's kitchen to block their path.
"Pardon us good sirs," Kirk smiled good-naturedly as he and Jack approached. But the pair showed no sign they were the least bit interested in moving aside to let the men pass.
Something about the two men struck a discordant nerve. Jack glanced quickly over his shoulder to find the alley's exit blocked by four men with hard looks and drawn swords. The numbing effects of the alcohol he'd consumed during the evening vanished instantly. "Kirk!" he shouted in warning, and the four men rushed into the alley with a yell.
Jack wheeled about to meet them, his own sword flying from its sheath with a flash of silver, catching an overhand blow meant to split his skull. Blue sparks flew from his sword and the blade of his attacker snapped off at the hilt when it met his superior steel. A splinter from the shattered weapon struck him in the forehead as the blade went whirling by, shooting fire across his vision, but his opponent was too busy gaping in shock at his ruined weapon to capitalize. Jack struck blindly, his sword descending to slash diagonally across the man's chest, sending him stumbling backwards with a shriek of pain. His fall disrupted his companion's charge long enough for Jack to swipe desperately at the blood pouring into his eyes, then the three men were stepping over their downed comrade to press the attack.