Sword of Betrayal

by Robert Evert

  The referee attempted to pull Edris off, but he kept hitting Kriton. A dozen other men leapt into the fray. Several piled onto him.

  Edris stood up, throwing them in all directions. He sent one reeling across the ring with a hard right to the mouth, then dropped another with a blow to the stomach.

  More people streamed into the ring. Edris batted them away as though they were children. Soon seven men lay at his feet; three weren’t moving.

  Amidst the chaos, Markus raced forward, waving his arms and screaming. “It’s over! It’s over! In the king’s name, stop the fight!”

  Edris sent a guard flying over the ropes, crashing into the spectators.

  His face swollen and bloody, Kriton staggered to his feet. Cradling his jaw, he snarled. “This ain’t over, Eddie. Come spring, you’re mine.”

  Fourteen

  Dripping blood, Edris stomped into the guesthouse in which he was quartered. The fight had only lasted a few minutes, with the ensuing chaos afterward accounting for another quarter of an hour, if that. The night was still young, but all he wanted to do was be alone. His battered head throbbing, he collapsed onto the bed.

  Under different circumstances, he would’ve been pleased. He’d never fought so many people at the same time. Knocking out seven men all at once might have impressed even his father. But it was Kriton’s last words—slurred with blood and broken teeth—that gave him reason to cringe.

  “This ain’t over, Eddie. Come spring, you’re mine.”

  Spring was six months away. Perhaps Kriton would forgive and forget by then.

  Now Edris did laugh. Men like Kriton didn’t forget a beating like that. And he definitely wouldn’t forgive it.

  Six months…

  He couldn’t have messed things up worse had he killed Kriton.

  Perhaps his father was right. There was something to be said about being feared.

  He massaged the purple knots on his forehead, then attempted to make himself more comfortable. Two books poked out from under the mound of pillows. One was the book of poetry. The other was the diary he’d stolen from Markus.

  He inspected the diary.

  It was stupid of him to have taken it. It was stealing, plain and simple. But then again, his dear cousin did make him fight his future commander.

  Asshole .

  Turning to the last entry, he immediately forgot about the fight and the coming spring.

  The passage read: “I endeavor to take tomorrow morning for myself and ride in the hills north of town. The fresh air will undoubtedly clear my head.”

  The hills north of Hillshire? There couldn’t be more than a few trails in that direction. How hard would it be to search them?

  Wait…

  Something wasn’t right. The quest couldn’t be that easy.

  Flipping through the diary, Edris noted how tidy the penmanship was. Each letter was skillfully crafted, almost drawn, in neat lines extending across the pages.

  He flipped through more passages.

  There wasn’t a single error or cross-out. Not one.

  Nobody could write that perfectly.

  Nobody but a scribe…

  The diary was a copy. It had to be. It might even be a complete fake. The story of Raaf and his lost sword had been a fireside staple for nearly two centuries. Thieves and counterfeiters undoubtedly created such books and sold them to the highest bidder.

  Did Markus think it was real?

  Probably not. He was rapidly becoming one of the most famous adventurers in the kingdom. He hadn’t won so many quests by being gullible.

  Edris tossed the diary onto the table next to his bed and picked up the book of poems.

  Markus…

  He might not be able to stop his cousin from winning another quest, but Edris was going to make him pay for the fight with Kriton.

  Fifteen

  “Come on, Eddie,” Markus said. “The boat’s leaving.”

  Still bleary-eyed from a lack of sleep, Edris followed his cousin’s example and led his whinnying horse up the gangplank. Markus had awakened him before dawn, saying if he wanted to go to Hillshire, he had to get ready that instant.

  “Couldn’t we have caught a later barge?” Edris asked.

  “You could’ve,” Markus replied, guiding his sleek grey stallion to one of the stalls. “But I’m leaving on this one, and you said you wanted to go. Besides, after trouncing Kriton like that, I thought you might want to get out of town.”

  The boat’s captain approached.

  “All ready, sirs?” the heavy, balding man asked as Markus hitched his horse to the railing.

  “We are,” Markus said. “How long until we reach Lower Angle?”

  “The river is high with all the rains we’ve had. Should make it in three days, sir.”

  “Splendid.” Markus gave the captain several coins.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “My pleasure.” Markus called to his squire, “Jacob!”

  A happy-faced lad appeared from around a corner. He was roughly Edris’s age but barely came to his shoulders. “Sir?”

  “We’ll be in our cabin. Stow the gear. Then tend the horses. Make sure they are fed and watered.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  To Edris’s surprise, most of the items on the squire’s horse were weapons and armor. A bundle tied to the saddle must have contained fifty arrows. Two-handed swords were strapped to the horse’s flanks.

  “Expecting a fight?”

  “Always.” Markus led him along a narrow passageway to a small room with two hammocks stretched from wall to wall. “It isn’t spacious. But it’s only for a few days. Besides, it beats sleeping in the common room with the riffraff.”

  Edris closed the door as his cousin flopped onto one of the hammocks.

  “You mentioned getting out of town because of Kriton,” Edris said.

  Markus stretched out, his hands behind his head. “Do you want to run into his men?”

  “Do you…” Edris wavered. “Do you think Kriton is the type of man who can forget what happened? Let bygones be bygones?”

  “Trust me. He’ll be thinking about you for a very long time.” Markus laughed. “Honestly, Eddie, I thought you were going to kill him.”

  “Perhaps it’d make my life easier if I had.”

  The barge lurched forward as it was pushed into the middle of the swirling Greater Green River.

  “Let me ask you this,” Markus said. “Are you seriously planning on being a kingsman next year?”

  Edris sat on the other hammock, trying not to be thrown to the floor. “That’s the plan.”

  “Whose plan? Your father’s?” Seeing Edris’s reaction, Markus shook his head. “It’s time for you to forget about your father. You have to be your own man.”

  “He’ll disown me.”

  “Oh, no, he won’t. Believe me. That’s what fathers like ours always say. It’s their biggest threat against their lay-about sons. In truth, they wouldn’t stand the scandal. Who disowns their sons for not doing what they’re told? Think about it. The most they’d do is lower our allowance. Trust me.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to my father? Ten years ago?”

  “Something like that.”

  They swayed in their hammocks as the barge rocked slightly. Outside, other passengers filed past the closed door.

  “Is he really that bad?” Markus asked. “I mean, I’ve heard—”

  “He wants me to kill people. He told me that if I didn’t kill the next person I faced in the ring, I shouldn’t come home.”

  Markus started to chuckle, but then caught Edris’s sullen expression. “He means it? Literally kill somebody? He didn’t mean…”

  “He thinks it’s better to be feared than loved.”

  “I suppose there’s some truth in that. Doubtless, there are occasions where you’ll have to use excessive force.”

  “Not in the ring!” Edris cried. “It’s a game!”

  “Well, if it helps, you nea
rly killed more than a few people last night. I’ve never seen anybody fight like that.”

  For a moment, the two men stared at the ceiling. Tree branches scraped by the small, circular window as the barge plodded slowly downstream.

  “Am I going to be able to be a kingsman?” Edris asked eventually.

  “No, Ed. I’m afraid that ship has sailed, as they say. Some of the other kingsmen will love you for what you did, but Kriton will make your life miserable, if not end it altogether.”

  Edris groaned. “What am I going to do?”

  Markus yawned. “I am of the opinion that people should only deal with problems as they occur. You have—what? Six months before you enlist. Plenty can happen in that time. So, relax. Maybe find a few dozen women to bed. That always makes things seem better. And, above all, try not to beat the crap out of anybody else unless you absolutely have to.”

  Early in the morning of the fourth day, the barge docked alongside a wharf in Lower Angle. Like Upper Angle, Lower Angle was built upon a stone hill wedged between two diverging rivers. However, rather than being situated in the mountains, Lower Angle was surrounded by rolling plains of knee-high green grass.

  From Lower Angle, Edris, Markus, and Jacob rode southeastward into the wooded hills surrounding Hillshire. For the most part, Edris and Markus rode side-by-side, discussing everything from women to the worsening political tensions with the neighboring kingdoms to the trials of being the youngest sons of powerful fathers. However, Markus seemed to be happiest when discussing the quests he’d undertaken.

  “And you managed to get the Golden Mace from them?” Edris asked, trying to sound amazed, though he believed little of what his older cousin was saying. “It was five against one!”

  “It isn’t about the odds,” Markus replied as their horses clomped along. “It’s about the opportunity. Sometimes you know you’ll never have another opportunity like that again, so you have to take it—odds be damned. Besides, fighting five men really isn’t any different than fighting one. It isn’t as though they’re all attacking you at once. It’s like life, Eddie. You take one problem at a time.” Then he added, “And you do whatever you have to do to win.”

  “Sir,” Jacob said behind them as their horses splashed through a creek trickling across the road. “If our maps are correct, there should be a suitable place to camp not too far to our left.”

  Markus checked the darkening sky through the overreaching branches. Evening was deepening around them.

  “Very well. It’s a bit early. But I’m in no hurry. My brother will still be at Hillshire when we get there.”

  They turned off the path and followed a creek to a small clearing.

  “I’ll get some firewood,” Edris said.

  “I can get it,” Jacob objected.

  “I want to help out. I have to get used to not having servants doing everything for me. Besides, you have to tend the horses.”

  Edris hiked into the woods, picking up what dry wood he could find. He hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when he heard an outbreak of angry voices coming from camp. Two were unfamiliar. Setting the firewood aside, Edris quietly drew his sword and a dagger. He stalked closer to camp and listened.

  “Fate it may be,” said a stranger. “Still, I find it exceedingly odd you’re heading to Hillshire when the quest was declared only yesterday.”

  “And I find it equally odd,” Markus replied testily, “that you are in these woods as well. As you said, the quest was declared only yesterday.”

  “I’m from Hillshire!” the stranger shouted. “I have every right to be here. I’ve been exploring these lands since before you were born.”

  “This is why I don’t think the sons of kings should be allowed to quest,” somebody else said. “They’re given advantages over real adventurers.”

  “It wouldn’t matter,” the first voice replied. “If it wasn’t their sons, kings would appoint their bastard offspring.”

  A sword rang as it slid from its scabbard.

  “I am no bastard,” Markus said, coldly. “And you’d best mind yourself. You may talk about your king that way, but you dare not speak of mine.”

  Through the trees, Edris could see Jacob draw his sword as well, though he appeared far from confident about its use.

  “I’ll speak any way I wish,” the first man said. “The third son of a worthless king is no matter to me.”

  Edris leapt into the clearing behind the newcomers. “He matters to me. And he won’t stand alone or at a disadvantage.”

  Two men, tall and broad of frame, whirled to meet Edris, weapons ready. They were in their mid-thirties, seasoned fighters by the looks of their scars—but Edris’s size gave them pause.

  “And who are you?” one asked.

  “Edris, son of Lord Elros,” Edris declared proudly. “Nephew to King Michael and cousin of Markus.”

  “Another noble,” the shorter of the two men said, as though his point had been made.

  His partner maneuvered so that he couldn’t be flanked by Edris or Markus. “I’ve heard about your boxing. But can you handle a blade?”

  Edris matched the intruder’s moves, making sure to keep his footing on the uneven ground. “Let’s find out.”

  The first man jabbed a finger at Markus. “You’re cheating. We all know it. You’re a worthless, noble fraud.” He waved to his companion. “Let’s leave these ladies to their affairs.”

  The second man smiled at Edris. “Boxing isn’t fighting, lad. And being big only means you’re an easier target. Keep that in mind.”

  The men withdrew into the woods.

  “Friends?” Edris asked when they’d gone.

  “Colleagues.” Markus sheathed his sword. “I’m glad you came along on this little expedition. I always need trustworthy people watching my back.”

  “Yes, well,” Edris replied, also sheathing his sword. “We’re family. We have to stick together.”

  Sixteen

  Edris thrust more sticks into the popping campfire. It wasn’t his turn to watch, but he wasn’t sleepy, and he didn’t want to be taken unaware should Markus’s colleagues return in the middle of the night.

  “So, who were those men?” he asked Markus.

  Orange firelight danced across Markus’s tired face. He exhaled resignedly. “The tall fellow with the dark complexion was Sir Emory. The other was Sir Morris.”

  “Knights?”

  “Adventurers. They were knighted a few years ago but have been adventuring for King Louis for ages.”

  “Why did they say you were cheating?”

  Reclining against his pack, Markus stretched his legs out before him. “How much do you know about Raaf?”

  Edris faked ignorance. “I’ve heard the legends. He vanished mysteriously a couple hundred years ago. He was probably killed by his brother. That’s about it. Why?”

  Markus studied Edris as if trying to resolve some internal debate. “The latest quest is to find his sword.”

  Edris pretended to put two and two together. “Wasn’t Raaf from Hillshire?”

  “He was.”

  “So, when you told me you were going to visit Merrick,” Edris said, wondering if his cousin would finally tell him the truth, “that wasn’t accurate, was it?”

  Markus grimaced. “Not completely. I’m sorry about that, Eddie. As an adventurer, I need to keep certain things to myself. I know I can trust you; but you never know who’s listening. But if it helps, we really are going to visit Merrick. I wasn’t lying about that.”

  Imitating Markus, Edris reclined against his backpack and stretched his legs. “Why are we going to see your brother if you’re on a quest?”

  Markus peered around them. The campfire’s leaping flames sent shadows scurrying about the surrounding trees. Somewhere in the woods, an owl hooted.

  “Merrick has been gathering information for me,” he whispered. “He thinks he might know where Raaf is buried.”

  “You’re kidding. Where? People have been sea
rching for his remains for centuries.”

  “I don’t know what he’s found. Hopefully, he’s found Raaf’s diary. I had a copy, but I seem to have misplaced it.”

  Throughout their time together, Edris had been trying to figure out what he was going to do with the book he’d stolen from the library. Now he thought he saw an opening.

  “Diary?” he said, attempting to sound perplexed. “Half a moment.” He dug into his pack and produced the tattered journal. “Is this yours?”

  “How the devil—?” Markus cried, more overjoyed than angry. “How did you get this?”

  “It was on my table with the other books the librarian brought me.” As if offering proof, he held up the books the king had told him to read. “I was wondering what a diary had to do with military matters.”

  Markus laughed. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you have this! I must’ve had it in hand when we first met.”

  “Then set it on the table when you lifted me off the ground,” Edris agreed.

  “Exactly.” Markus examined the diary. “This is a glad tiding!”

  “Do you think it will help you with the quest?”

  “Maybe!” Markus stared at Edris. For a second, Edris thought Markus had remembered that he hadn’t had the diary when they met in the library. “Care to join me?”

  “Questing?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Me?” Edris replied, genuinely surprised. “You don’t need me. Like you said, Merrick knows where the sword is.”

  “Perhaps he does. But even still, it isn’t about finding the sword—though that’ll undoubtedly be challenging.”

  “It’s about getting it to your father?”

  “Precisely. Come on. Join me, Eddie! You said yourself that you have nothing to do. I could really use another blade by my side. And I know you’re trustworthy.”

  Edris didn’t answer, a pang of guilt needling his stomach.

  “I’ll give you the prize money,” Markus said eagerly. “That’s a thousand gold pieces!”

  “First tell me why those men thought you were cheating.”