by Wil Clayton
Chapter 4
Roland staggered into the room after Calum and slammed the door shut. He reached up with his blood coated arms, found the bar and pulled it down across the door. He looked at Calum with weary, blackening eyes.
“Stay,” he command and threw his cloak into a heap on floor.
Roland then stumbled to a cot and collapsed into it, a lump flesh and nothing more. His side was coated in the dark, red gore but did not appear to be bleeding anymore.
“Do you need anything?” asked Calum moving to the lit lantern that sat on the table.
There was no response.
Calum snuffed the flame, removed his travelling clothes and found the second cot on other side of the room. He slept as his dreams took him to the frozen world of colour and then he woke.
The morning light streamed through a window that Calum had not noticed the night before. He pulled himself up in the cot and the front of his pants were soiled again. He cursed in frustration and kicked off the long underpants and replaced them with his thick linen trousers that scratched at his skin. He scooped up his clothes and looked at Roland.
The man still slept in the same awkward position that he had collapsed into the night before, the coating on the his arms had dried and flaked, colouring the fabric of the cot a deep red.
Calum lifted the bar from the door and peered into the hallway beyond. The wayhouse was silent except for the sounds of birds nesting in the roof. He walked down the hallway to the stairs that led to the main room.
At the bottom of the stairs Calum found an Arn with dull, golden hair cleaning one of the blood stains off the wall.
“Good morning, lad,” called the man across the room, “how is Roland?”
“Sleeping,” replied Calum, “do you have a place where I can wash my clothes?”
“Through the backdoor. There are some water barrels, pitchers and basins in the cupboard next to it.”
Calum moved towards the door.
“I am sorry about all this,” said Calum turning back feeling like someone should apologise for the chaos.
“Thank you,” smiled the man, “but there is no need, it is part of the business of running a wayhouse. Though, I must say, not all are this… messy.”
“Do you know what it was about?”
“Ask Ystari,” said the Arn with a sigh, “there are so many stories about Roland who knows which ones are true and which aren’t.”
“I have never heard of Roland the Butcher or Roland the Black.”
“Roland the Butcher, I don’t know, but Roland the Black is his name amongst the trees. It was given to him by the nobles of Yulas’rel. He made a lot of enemies in the capital when he helped the Northerners take the Fork back from them. Nasty dealings, apparently, many people lost their lives,” the man shrugged, “or so they say, the nobles have ways of making up nasty rumours about people that best them.”
The man went back to cleaning. Calum found the water he needed and cleaned his clothes. When he was done he took a pitcher of water and a basin back to the room for Roland.
Roland was awake and standing by the window, his cloak now folded neatly on the cot. His body still coated in red and black.
“Are you well?” asked Calum quietly.
“Yes, do not think on me,” replied Roland an emptiness in his voice.
“I brought you some water to wash,” said Calum, putting the pitcher and basin on the small table by the door.
“Thank you.”
Calum paused as questions ran through his mind but thought it was better not to ask any of them now.
“I’ll wait downstairs,” said Calum finally and closed the door behind him.
The owner of the wayhouse gave Calum a small bowl of oats and some rations for the road.
Calum ate the oats slowly, looking out the window at the dense forest that circled the village. He then turned his attention back to large, empty room he sat in. His eyes found the blood stain on the floor where the man who had been disfigured by the cloak had fallen.
The tales of Roland’s cloak were as great as the man that wore it and though they had been an exaggerated it was still an impressive item. Calum wondered where Roland would have found such a prize, it was clearly not made from the hide of a bear as it seemed, but if it wasn’t, what could it be? Calum’s mind started to sift through all the types of fabrics he had learnt about in his lessons, but none came close matching what he had seen the day before. Then, Calum started to wonder if there was more of that material in world and if there was, how could he acquire some for himself?
Eventually, Roland appeared at the stairwell, clean and tidy, except for his shirt that was now cut and stained red. His arms held no trace of a scar or blemish were he had been cut by the blades.
“Do you have any shirts for trade?” ask Roland.
“None in your size. I have a loose nightshirt that may fit you.”
“Please.”
The Arn vanished and soon reappeared with the nightshirt, frills adorned its collar and long sleeves. Roland took the shirt and vanished back up the stairs, when he reappeared he had donned his cloak. The silk shirt, visible underneath, was now missing it frills, the neck sagged absurdly low showing the hard, white muscle of Roland’s chest.
“We will take our leave now,” said Roland as he handed the owner some coins.
“You have paid already,” the owner replied pushing the coins back.
“For the trouble.”
“I include trouble in my price,” smiled the owner, “be careful on the roads and remember to come by again.”
“As you say,” Roland nodded and put the coins back in his pocket.
Roland and Calum worked their way through village to a small path on the opposite side of the clearing. Some of the villagers were in their yards tending their gardens, digging at weeds and picking off pests. Calum recognised a few from the group he had joined the night before. When he saw them he waved, some ignored him while others smiled and waved merrily.
“He was a good man, that,” smiled Calum.
“Who?”
“The keeper.”
“That man was a bastard,” growled Roland.
“What?”
“I murder seven men under his roof and in the morning he greets me smiles and begs my return.”
“Would you have rather he cursed you and throw you out of your bed?” laughed Calum.
“He would have if it was Arn blood on the floors but the Northern Men… they are dirt to these people. I am shocked he didn’t hand me all my coin back along with two of his daughters.”
There was deep and strong anger in Roland’s voice.
“You killed seven men, then disfigured another,” puzzled Calum shaking his head, “and in the morning you call the keeper a bastard for thinking low of those same men.”
“My will is mine. My actions are mine. I am to live with the sorrow and joy of each of them and I accept the condemnation of others when my actions are unjust. That swine judged me and he found me a good man.
“A good man does not kill seven that had no means of defending themselves. A good man does not humiliate another who is simply doing his duty.”
An exhausted emotion had risen in Roland.
“Then, why did you kill them?” challenged Calum, “why not just walk past them?”
“We are not like you, Kaborn, we live in a different world with different laws. Rein was commanded by duty to attack me once he knew who I was, that is the man he is, and I will let no man challenge me without consequence, as that is the man who I am. The fight was inevitable,” said Roland quietly but then the anger returned to his voice, “and it is no place of some Arn to look on and see it as a gift handed to him by gods. If the coward did not want Hool in his wayhouse, he should have thrown them out himself not hide in the corner and cheer while others fight and die.”
Roland’s logic was lost on Calum, a man who wilfully kills a group men and then curses those around him that see no crime
in his actions.
In the court’s of his father Calum had seen his people spend the days explaining to his father why their obvious misdeeds were justified by the strange nonsense of the common law that had been stitch together since the first stones of Kabrace were laid.
From murder to theft and every sin in between. All of them had their reasons that explained away their guilt or found what was right in their actions, all the time knowing fully they were nothing but dogs trying to dodge the master’s boot. And if his father found them innocent the men would praise him and sing of his just rule. None did as Roland did now, as maybe they should have, and cursed his father and crown on his head for the obvious injustice in his ruling.
“Do not worry yourself about it is something that you can not understand,” Roland’s voice brought Calum back to forest.
Calum had always hated when his father had spoken to him in a such a way because he did understand. It was more his father just did not want to argue anymore. The refusal to discuss the matter further simply made Calum more aggressive usually resulting with Father storming from the room, furious at his son’s defiance.
But for this moment Calum stayed himself and saw the world as a stranger, richer and more illogical place then he had thought. Then the moment was gone.
“Why didn’t you kill Rein? ” continued Calum, “why disfigure him? I was always taught death is a kinder punishment. If you held no malice, why not just slit the man's throat and let it be done?”
“The Northern Men have complex traditions. If I had killed him, his siblings, his parents and any others who had sworn themselves to him would have been called upon to hunt me down and seek my blood for theirs,” said Roland, “but while Rein lives his humiliation is his alone and only he may avenge it. He may come after me, if he wishes, but since he lives those bound to him will not follow.”
“But they are after you already?”
“The ones who hunted me across the lands are long dead. Now, what remains is only an old grudge, an edict written in stone and enforced by honour. A Free Man of the Hool tribe must challenge me if I am known to them as I am their enemy, now and for all the years I live. That is why I no longer travel the Northern Lands openly, enough men have fallen.”
Calum looked up at Roland, the oval face beamed youth and life, his bright orange hair sparkled in the morning sun, no one would believe he was older than twenty five years.
Calum had heard that Roland had lived for thousands of years and helped Illiad in his journey to the end of the earth in the Age of Men, other said he laid with Diana of the Forest and their children were the first of the Western Men, others told the tale in which he and Sulla the Fire Babe conquered the wild tribes of Heartland at the dawn of time and founded Sowland's Watch as the first city of men. But Calum knew they were stupid stories made up by bards to excite their patrons and add a few extra Swords to their purse, but the question still nagged at Calum and he could not ignore it, so he dared to ask.
“How old are you, Roland?”
“Old enough,” Roland shot back with a finality that Calum knew meant he had asked to much.
Roland had made it clear when they had met in slums of Kabrace, within the small room above the Riverview tavern, he would not talk of stories or gossip spread by the common folk. Roland was not going to be a curiosity for a young prince to be poked and prodded with a hundred ridiculous questions. He was looking for a job and pay, nothing more and, now, Calum started to understand why he made this clear, the more time he spent with Roland the more curious he became of the man he found next to him.
The day passed and then the next.
Roland kept on his horse, Calum walked along side. The days of travel had built up his legs to the point where they no longer hurt by the time they broke for camp.
The two talked occasionally about The First Kingdom and Calum’s life as a prince but Roland kept his own stories to himself. Sometimes silence would descend again when Calum asked a question his travelling companion was not pleased with, sometimes when Roland dared to insult Calum’s people or his privilege upbringing, leaving Calum’s cheek raw.
A few Arn moving silently through the twisting maze of roads and paths, uncaring of the pair that walked past.
“How much further?” asked Calum eating the last of some berries that he had found alongside the road, the fire crackled between the two, the moon shone large and silver overhead.
“We are about a day from Gella’s Run,” said Roland.
Gella’s Run cut the Kingdom of Lay’tol in two and Calum realised his journey was only a third complete.
“The land is much bigger out here than it is in the library,” he laughed
“It is,” said Roland with a smile.
“What do you intend to do after we get the White Spire?” ask Calum without thinking, he await the usual silence that came whenever he asked Roland about his business.
“I will head south to the Lowlands.”
“What’s down there?” ask Calum.
“Nothing,” said Roland with a shrug, “I tire of men. I feel like disappearing off the edge of the world for a while.”
Calum looked down at fire and felt the fatigue set in. He lay down on his back and wrapped his travelling cloak around him and fell asleep.
The next day came the pair marched on.
It was about mid afternoon when Roland pulled his horse to halt. The forest that lined the right side of road gave way to a still lake, the water sparkled with a silver silt, the green grass grew thick along the ground reaching all the way to the shoreline.
“Let’s stop here for a moment,” said Roland and dismounted.
Calum nodded and followed as Roland led the horse to the lakeside. The horse lowered its head and started to lap at the water. Roland removed his cloak, folded it neatly and placed it under a tree.
“The waters near Gella’s Way are some of freshest around. We are making good time, we can afford to stop here for while.”
Calum smiled, thankful for the break, The pair had been moving now for over two weeks, resting only to make camp.
Calum took off his boots and let his bare feet become absorbed into the soft, long grass that formed a carpet at the lake’s edge. He sat down and stared off across the water. Reeds grew out of lake, the flowering vines that had grown amongst them turned the reeds into small towers of summer colours. Birds dived at dragonflies that skipped along the surface of the water before vanishing back into the canopy of the trees that arched overhead.
Roland got up, took the horse from the lakeside and tied it to the tree where he had left his cloak. The horse started to chomp on a small bush.
Roland removed the nightshirt had acquired at Salm’rel and placed it next to his cloak. He then undid the belt that held his pants and they fell to ground, he kicked them off to the side.
Looking over, Calum suddenly noticed that Roland was naked. Calum puzzled at the body was oddly, perfect shape. Tight strands of muscles wrapped around themselves, bonding together to form strong, hard waves that sat frozen under his skin. There was no odd bump out of place or sag of loose flesh as Roland’s white skin held tight to the frame showing no signs of age or wear or life. Calum had always assumed that under the cloak of bear fur was a body just as rough, but he had been wrong instead there was a figure carved of unnaturally pure, white stone.
Roland stood still and looked across the lake. Roland waded into the water a few feet and disappeared as the surface exploded, Roland had found the end of the shore line.
“Do they teach young princes to swim in The First Kingdom?” he called back, his voice cheerful as it carried across the water.
“Yes,” replied Calum.
“Then, you had best take this chance to wash, you need it.”
Calum looked around and saw no harm it. He quickly look off his shirt and pants, feeling very conscious of his smaller, looser body with its slightly round stomach and thin arms.
Calum looked at where Roland had
been and saw nothing. Then in distance he saw a slight disturbance in the water, Roland was gliding effortless through the lake as though the gods had suddenly granted him the body of fish. Calum started to feel as though Roland was insulting him again.
Calum lowered himself into the water and started to wash but he did not go beyond the shore’s edge. He was able at move through the water, but he had never been good at holding himself in place.
The water felt cool against his tired muscles and the silver sediment started to scrap the dirt from his skin, it was the most refreshed he had felt since leaving the castle. He waded out a bit further and submerged himself entirely before hurrying back to the where the earth was easier to find.
Roland swam over to him and lowered himself on to the bank. He sat there quietly for a small time.
“The waters around these parts are the most beautiful you will see anywhere in the land, many people don’t appreciate that.”
Calum sat quietly.
“You said, you knew how to swim?” asked Roland.
“I did.”
“Then, a race,” said Roland pointing at the small tuft of land near the centre of the lake, “the first one who reaches that island gets to ride the horse tomorrow.”
“I am glad you found some cheer, finally,” laughed Calum, “but I won’t be embarrassing myself today.”
“Then I tell you this, I will count fairly to sixty, then I will give chase. What do you say?”
Calum looked at the distance island and then at Roland. He would have to make it before sixty, if he hoped to win, he knew Roland would catch him more or less as soon as the man hit the water.
“Eighty.”
“Very well. Eighty.”
And with that, before Roland could start counting, Calum pushed himself into the water and start swimming with all of his strength.
The water splashed and crashed around Calum’s ears, his arms burnt, his legs kicked and flail behind, Calum noticed they were stronger they had been before. The island grew closer, but it needed to get closer, faster.
Calum kicked harder, focusing all his strength on propelling himself through the water. The island was almost there, just a small distance ahead.
It had surely been eighty by now, but Calum did not stop, he buried his head in the water and swum the rest of the way without taking another breath.
Calum burst above the water line, his hand had found the muddy grit of the island, he looked up. There was no one, he had beaten Roland. He turned around to see how far Roland trailed behind.
On the distant bank there was a flurry of limbs, water flew into the air. Roland was grabbing at a figure that danced in the water around him. Calum, confused, started to swim back without another thought.
Calum stopped after a few strokes and pulled his head above the water line. He could see the figures dressed in dark tunics, but could not make out anymore as the water that was being thrown into the air. Roland grabbed at one and punch at another.
Calum kept swimming, only stopping to see what was happening on the shore.
One of the figures was suddenly caught in Roland’s large left hand and was pushed, face first, into the lake. It struggled as Roland swatted at the other figure with his right hand, eventually he seized the second and both figures were kicking as they were held below the water.
By the time Calum had reached the shore line, Roland was dragging one the bodies up onto the shore.
“What happened?” panted Calum as he pulled himself out the water.
“Thieves,” said Roland, “they’ve been following us since the morning.”
Calum stood by slightly dumbfounded.
“I wanted to draw them out before night, I was hoping the temptation to attack while we were unarmed would be enough,” he said heading back to the lake and start to pull the other body out, “it was a good thing I did. These men were quiet well trained, they would have gotten you in the night.”
Calum walked over to the body and looked at the moist, blue face of Arn that had attacked them.
“Thank you,” was all Calum could say as he looked into the large bulging eyes that stared back, empty and hollow.
“We can camp here tonight,” said Roland crouching next to one of the bodies and started to rifle through the pockets.
Roland pulled out a few bags of coins and a large curved blade.
“They were doing quite well for themselves,” he said weighing the pouch in his hand, “you should make a fire and we can dry off.”
Calum nodded. The eyes fascinated, he did not want to look away. He did not want to make a fire. He wanted to stand there and study the blood vessels as they popped and scratched their way across the whites of the eyes. He wanted to see the red escape the lips and the cheeks hollow.
But he didn’t. Calum pulled himself away and went to gather the wood for the fire. The pair had forgotten about their clothes, leaving them abandoned as they sat by the fire watched the sun move across the sky. Roland stripped the thieves of anything valuable and was sorting through the gold on the carpet of grass.
“Here is your share,” said Roland as he threw a pouch at Calum.
“Should I curse you for killing these men too?” smiled Calum.
The look Calum received wiped it quickly from his face.
There was the first signs of dusk in sky as the pair laid by the fire. Calum was shocked by how much he wished to be moving again, after so long in constant motion sitting by the lake watching the sun move across the sky seemed an affront to all the leagues already travelled.
Calum looked at Roland, who did not seem to feel the same way. He lay, stretched out on the grass with his eyes closed, letting the warmth of the day flood over him.
A sickening smell invaded the peace of the afternoon.
“Are the corpses rotting already?” asked Calum sniffing at the air and looked at the bodies with disgust.
Roland’s eyes flew open.
“No.”
Roland picked himself up and also sniffed the air, he moved towards a line of trees and pushed his way through the bushes. Calum followed to the brush but stopped, the branches looked dense and sharp enough to cut his skin.
Roland reappeared a few moments face a look of concern on his face.
“Get your clothes on, now,” he ordered.
“What is it?” asked Calum.
Roland moved quickly, like he had in the wayhouse when faced by the Northerners. Roland was over the one of bodies pulling at the clothes.
“Their horses are behind those bushes, rotting,” said Roland.
Calum found his clothes and started pulling them on.
“Their horses are dead?”
“Yes, long dead,” cursed Roland, “get on the horse.”
Calum grew concerned as a panic crept into Roland’s voice.
Calum tried to hitch himself up onto the horse but the stirrups where too low for him to be able to swing up, Roland was behind him and boosting him up. Once balanced on the horse, Calum started to pull on his shirt.
“There were wagon tracks on the... left... three turns back. Three turns on the left, ignore the turns the right. You need to take the horse and get there.” said Roland staring Calum in eye making sure he was listening, “follow the tracks up the road, you must find where they lead. We must find a house or stable, any structure we can fortify before night. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” blurted Calum his mind muddled.
“If the forest is good, there is a farmhouse. If there is, you need to remember it and come back to the first turn and find me. I will be on this road. Do not travel more than a mile. Do not get lost. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“As quickly as you can manage, do not stop.”
Calum kicked the horse and it moved as fast as its stocky legs could go. What was happening? What was driving fear into Roland? And if Roland was afraid, Calum knew he was dead if he did not find a farmhouse by nightfall.
Calum found the t
rail with the wagon tracks. More than once he lost his balance and almost slipped from Roland’s ridiculously sized saddle. Calum gripped his legs tight to keep balance, they burnt as the horse rolled and swayed wildly beneath him. The wagon tracks went for more than a mile, Calum went further than he was told but found nothing.
Cursing, Calum turned and hurried back the way he came, he looked at the other paths that joined the trail any of these could lead to a farmhouse or a mill or a whole damn village. But the trees crowded the path and refused to share the secret of what lay beyond them.
The sun was still sinking towards the west, Calum called and yelled as he went hoping a friendly Arn would stick his head out and call back to him but there was no sign of life as the woods choked the world around him.
For a moment, Calum became excited as he heard the sound of hooves. He pulled the horse to a standstill and listened to the wind. After a few moment he realised he could hear nothing but the sounds of birds returning to their nests for the night. It had just been his imagination. Calum returned to the turn where Roland had said to wait, his companion nowhere to be seen.
Calum wanted to search in another direction, he felt helpless and he hated feeling helpless, but he fought back the urge to run off madly into the trees and instead waited, nervously, as the sky became orange.
Calum muttered to himself in panic as the horse beneath him stood quiet and still. Then, through the air came the sound of wood creaking against itself and rhythmic clop of horse hooves and then it was gone again. Calum cursed, he had heard only what it wanted it to hear.
The sound came again and this time it persisted. A wagon made its way around the bend, an Arn with bright, blonde hair dressed in a dark blue tunic approached. Calum turned his horse to face the wagon.
“Sir,” shouted Calum as it approached, “do you know a farmhouse? I must find shelter.”
“You are a long way from your homeland, boy,” the Arn replied suspiciously.
“I know,” snapped Calum annoyed, “my friend and I were set upon by thieves and we need a place to stay.”
“You killed them?”
“Yes,” said Calum.
“Then, you are in some trouble. My wagon doesn’t travel as quickly as your horse, but that is no concern. Where is your friend?”
“He is searching the paths for a shelter.”
“Then you must find him and take him to my home, you must be in by dusk,” said the Arn with a concern in his voice, “it’s the first right beyond here and then the second left, follow that road to the bush of yellow flowers, turn into the path it marks. That is my home.
“My daughter and son will greet you. Tell them Taylan sent you. You’d best hurry.”
“Thank you, good sir,” cried Calum in relief.
Calum kicked the horse and turned it, he saw Roland waiting for him at the turn.
“What did you find?”
“An Arn told me how to get to his farmhouse, his children will help us, he says.”
“Children?”
“A son and daughter.”
Roland looked at the sky and cursed even more violently than before.
“Ride,” Roland barked, “I will follow.”
Calum galloped down the rode, looked behind and there he saw the strangest sight. Roland was bent over in a strange way, his arms and legs worked together to propel him down the road as a rabbit did, his cloak snapping at the air behind him, a man was not meant to move like that but Calum did not have time to think on it, he turned his focus to Taylan’s instructions.
Calum found the bush of yellow flowers and turned the horse into the track which led though the tree line and into an open clearing. Two simple structures sat in front of Calum, a stables and a household.
The sky was now a burning red, the sun had not set yet but it would soon. He slowed the horse and rode up to the door of the house behind he saw Roland running across the field, upright like man should run. Calum, awkwardly, dropped himself from the awkward saddle, almost loosing his footing, and knocked at the door.
A slender, bright face of a girl framed in blonde opened it a crack, her eyes were large and yellow.
“Yes, sir,” she asked with no expression on her face.
“Good lady, we were set upon by thieves on the road. Your father, Taylan, said my friend and I could take shelter here for the night.”
Calum could not hide the urgency in his voice.
“Of course,” the girl nodded and opened the door further, “take your horse to the stable. Please be quick.”
The girl turned from the door.
“Jun, build the fire, the dead men are back,” she called into the room.
Calum started to lead the horse to the stables.
“What is happening?” asked Roland as he joined Calum.
“The children are building the fire,” reported Calum, “they said to stable the horse.”
“Sounds as though the locals know of these monsters.”
“Tell me then,” said Calum as they walked across the yard in the ebbing light.
“They are men who have used the power of Milorsa to escape death,” explained Roland, “for one night the god keeps the Midnight Worgs at bay by hiding their souls in their carcasses. One night they have to find their killers and to trick the Worgs into taking their souls to the abyss instead of their own.”
“Magic,” exclaimed Calum with an excitement.
“Calm yourself, Kaborn. This is the crazed powers of the gods, not the clean magic of the Magi, you seek.”
“I know the difference between the gods and the Magi,” snapped Calum.
“Then, you will know we are in great danger until dawn,” said Roland, “we should get ourselves into the house, the light of a fire burns away their power.”
The horse was placed without regard into a pen, the oversized saddled left for it to carry through the night and the two returned to the farmhouse.
Inside they found the Arn girl, who looked to be the same age as Calum, as she was laying salt at the windows and doors. Her younger brother, a boy of eight or so, was poking at the fire and organising different sized pieces of the wood at side of the hearth.
“I see everything is fine hands,” smiled Roland as he enter the space.
Calum wondered why Roland was always nicer to strangers than he was to the man paying for his service.
“It is, sir,” smiled the young girl, “I am Gabri, this my brother, Jun”.
“The dead men have come before,” said Jun with a small voice as he focused on the fire, “but you don’t need to worry, you’ll be safe here.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Roland.
“Who killed the men?” asked Gabri.
“I did,” replied Roland.
“Then you should stay by the fire. Your son can help me secure the back windows.”
“My name is Calum,” said Calum merrily, “and I’d be happy to help.”
Gabri led the way into a bedroom. Calum fixed the window shutters with some wood and nails and Gabri heaped large amounts of salt on the ground.
“You don’t look like one of us,” said Gabri as they worked, “where are you from?”
“I am from The First Kingdom,” said Calum, “I am travelling to the White Spire.”
“I know of The First Kingdom, are you a farmer like us?”
“No,” laughed Calum, “I’m a prince.”
“A prince? From The First Kingdom?” Gabri joined in the laughter, “you don’t need to lie to me, Calum.”
“I am not lying,” he smiled back, “I swear to you, I am the first true born of son of King Wren, the Blood of Ka runs through my veins.”
“I have read about Ka in my book,” she smiled, “You do not seem as… fierce.”
“It’s true, years of ruling The First Kingdom have soften our bodies somewhat but our minds are just fierce as those of our great emperor.”
The horror of the situation was pushed from his mind for a momen
t. It was pleasant to have company again that was not Roland. Also, the girl also did not seem to fear these dead men that pursued them and that gave Calum a comfort, maybe they were safe now.
“Well, Prince Calum,” said Gabri with a smile, “we should head back to main room, the night will be here in a few moments.”
Gabri brushed the last of the salt from her hands and the two returned to the main room.
Taylan had arrived and was sitting around the table with Roland, two large swords placed before them on the table.
“I will not sit at the back while others defended me,” argued Roland.
“If they get your blood then the fire will no longer repel them and then we’re all dead,” rebuked Taylan.
Roland’s eyes hardened as the Arn held his gaze.
“Fine, have it then,” huffed Roland pushing the sword across the table.
“Lad,” Taylan called to Calum, “do you know how to wield this?”
“He’s a prince, pa,” laughed Gabri as she took up her own sword which she had left by the fireplace, “the Blood of Ka runs in veins, he knows how to use a sword.”
Roland’s eyes snapped to Calum.
“I can use a sword, well enough,” said Calum taking it from Taylan.
“Very well, Jun, Roland, by the fire. Gabri by the backdoor, Calum by the kitchen window,” ordered Taylan who reminded Calum of the rangers that taught him back in Kabrace, “I’ll take the front door.”
Taking his position by the window, Calum felt the adrenaline build in him, his mind raced trying to anticipate what was going to happen as the night approached. Taylan went to the front door and opened it. Darkness had taken the forest outside, the air was still musty and warm from the hot, summer day.
After a short time, the strange sound came. A moist slapping against the wooden wall, next to Calum’s head.
“It is them,” said Taylan not moving from the door his sword firmly in hand, "be ready.”
The slapping sound moved along the wall to the corner of the room where the kitchen sat. There was silence for a moment and then the sound started to round the corner and towards the door. The sound of squelching steps could be heard coming through the doorway.
Calum almost dropped his sword as he saw it for the first time. The face, slowly, angled its head to peer through open door. A bloated, red mess of a human face that shone in the darkness, looked into the room, the eyes bulged large and silver behind the swollen cheeks of the beast.
It let out a hideous scream that caused the shutters of the window to shake. Calum dropped his sword in fright. Water escaped its mouth cascading down its chin and spilling onto the dirt.
“Pick that up,” barked Taylan.
Calum bent down to pick up sword when the window shutters behind him exploded into splinters. Wet, slimy limbs grabbed his small frame and yanked him towards the hole in the wall. Calum had never screamed so loudly in life, he kicked furiously but the thing had him firmly in its moist grip.
“Stay back,” shouted Taylan as Roland started to move across the room.
Taylan moved swiftly to Calum, scooping up a handful of salt as he went, then dashed the crystals into the arms that held him. The flesh started to bubble and hiss as the salt ate into it, the thing weakened its grip and Calum slipped free.
“Gabri, the cupboard,” shouted Taylan at his daughter who was now at the front door watching the other creature still waiting beyond the frame.
Gabri ran to the cupboard that sat by the window and pushed herself against it.
“Get clear,” she shouted.
Calum and Taylan scrambled across the floor as the the cupboard toppled over, blocking creature’s entrance. Plates and bowls came free, crashing and rolling across the floor.
The creature at the door saw its chance and leapt through the doorway into the room. Its red skin popped and smoked as the firelight fell across it, the thing was still dressed in its wet, black tunic. iIt leapt back into the dark corner of the kitchen to escape the light and there it sat, squatting in the shadows, waiting, a quiet gurgling coming from of its mouth.
Taylan grabbed Gabri by her arm and threw her next to fire, getting her away from the creature. Calum stood, frozen, next to the toppled cupboard. Taylan circled the beast to place himself between it and his children, his sword pointed directly at the corner in which it sat.
Calum found his senses and looked for his sword, it was stuck beneath the cupboard that had been pushed over without another thought he abandoned it and moved into the firelight.
“Everyone, stay by the fire,” order Taylan.
“Give me the sword,” shouted Roland.
“Stay, where you are?” hissed Taylan, “something is wrong. The soul stalkers are never this strong.”
“They will burn like any other,” yelled Roland and grabbed a piece of wood Jun had placed next to the fire and tore up the rug that sat underfoot with his knife.
“They will,” said Taylan, “but you stay there. Hand me the torch.”
Calum looked at Roland, the frustration was written across the man’s face.
“I am Roland the Black,” he shouted, “I don’t cower while children fight.”
“I don’t care who you are. Don’t be a fool and stay where you are.”
Roland thrusted the finished torch into the flames as though it was a sword being plunged into the face of an enemy and then threw it at Taylan. Taylan pushed his sword to Calum.
“Don’t drop this one,” he said quietly and firmly, “both of you cover my side while I approach.”
Taylan started to move towards the dark corner flanked by Calum and Gabri. As the flames of the torch fell across the creature it hissed and cried a small whine. Suddenly, with a swift motion it leapt up and dug its fingers into the rough wood of the roof, water fired from its mouth drowning Taylan and dowsing the torch in his hands.
The other creature was at the door and before Calum knew what was happening, it leapt with its full force onto Roland. It screamed as it brought its gnarled fingers down at Roland’s face.
The beast on the roof started to scuttle across the surface, water slopping from its tunic as it went. Once it was above Taylan, it loosened its grips and dropped its full weight onto the man.
“Pa,” shouted Gabri as she rushed forward and stuck her sword into the creature as best she could.
Calum looked as Roland wrestling the one by the fire, and then at Taylan pinned beneath the other. Who should he be helping? His panicked mind raced without an answer.
Roland hand slipped around the jaw of swollen face. He wanted the throat but the thing would not give him the opportunity, his hand slipped again its slick skin, which smoked and pop from the firelight filling the room off a putrid smell of rot. Its sharp nails swiped at his face again, it just barely missed. Jun was by Roland’s side, salt in his small hands and the boy threw the white powder with all his force into the creatures face, it howled in pain and that was enough. Roland seized a wet limb and was free. He spun on the floor and once Roland had his legs behind him he was able to catch the creature off balance. With a single push, it was in the fire.
The flames of fire came alive with a crimson colour as it consumed the body and the room became tinted by the unnatural light.
Calum, having seen the boy throw the salt, knew what he needed to do.
Calum found a handful of salt scattered near the door and ran at Taylan and Gabri who were both wrestling the beast. Gabri bought her sword up again and sliced at the creature catching its chest. Black blood oozed from the wound, but the creature seemed ignorant of the cut and continued to assault Taylan.
Calum jumped on the back of creature and grabbed at the things chin, he pulled back the head and rubbed the salt into its large silver eyes, feeling the eyeballs slide beneath his fingers.
The creature screamed and bucked. Calum was thrown across the floor, but the creature had exposed it neck to Gabri. A moment later, the sword sliced the air and the creatures head drop
ped to the left held to its body on by just a few tendons. Gabri stood before it, panting, her sword covered in black gore.
The creature started to spin in panic, a whirl of nail and water, Taylan pushed himself clear but not before a claw caught his shoulder and ripped open his flesh. Roland was there with a log from by the fire and brought it down on the creatures, its body crumpled under the blow.
The beast fell to the ground but there was still life in it and it started to pull its broken body, desperately, towards the door. Roland brought the log down again. Black ooze splattered across the floor. The body still refused to be still, moved by an unending power.
A battered arm swiped through the air tearing a gash in Roland’s silk shirt but he was able to jump back just in time for the claws to miss his chest. Taylan jumped on the crumpled wreck and held what was left down, the wound on his shoulder was bleeding freely.
“Get a flame,” shouted Taylan.
Roland grabbed the remains of the rug and wrapped it thick around his right fist. He lit the fabric in the fire, the flames leapt around his arm and burnt back his shirt sleeve. Roland pushed Taylan off the creature and punched his flaming fist into the chest of the creature. The cavity exploded and the flames took of the things body. There was a flash of light and Roland jumped back as a dark, red fire took the thrashing body. Black ooze bubbled and erupted from its neck, spewing out onto the floor.
After a few moments the flames were gone as was the creature, leaving behind just a pool of a thick, black liquid.
Taylan cursed into the silence.
The room was a natural orange again and the fire in the hearth crackled to itself. Black blood stained the wood, water pooled into puddles here and there, plates and bowls littered floor.
“Pa, you’re hurt,” said Gabri as she pulled a chair from the table and pushed her father into it.
“Roland, your hand?” gasped Taylan seeing the charred skin that cracked across the surface of his forearm and hand.
“I will be fine,” said Roland, “I just need some cloth.”
Taylan looked at Roland puzzled for a moment and then simply nodded.
“They have never been that strong,” said Taylan, “I have never seen one willingly leap into the light.”
“It is concerning,” said Roland.
Gabri had retrieved a jar of alcohol and some cloth from the kitchen and began tending to her fathers wounds. Roland walked over and took a piece of cloth for himself.
“Jun clean up, please,” said Taylan wincing as the alcohol cleaned the wound, “and start making dinner.”
“Yes, Pa,” said Jun quietly and found a broom from the kitchen.
Calum knelt and started to gather broken pieces of plates.
“I need to tell the Brother about this,” said Taylan to Roland, “he needs to know they are growing stronger.”
“How many of them have come?” asked Roland.
“A handful, now and then. They come out of the forests,” said Taylan, “they’ve got an encampment a few miles from here. We have ignored them, mostly, not worth the trouble we thought, but now… now I think we must act.”
“I would agree, if it were mine,” said Roland.
“I will go tonight, if you would see to my children for me? I will return before morning.”
“Is it safe?” asked Roland.
“Yes and I won’t sleep easy until I talk to the Brother,” said Taylan and then pointed to his shoulder, “he will also be able to help me with this.”
“Then, go, I will watch the children.”
“You’ll eat something first, then go,” ordered Gabri.
Taylan nodded with a smile.
Calum and Jun cleared away the broken plates and mopped up the water and black gore as best they could. Roland put the cupboard upright and inspected the broken window. Gabri made a simple meal while Taylan and Roland vanished to the stables to check on the animals.
When it was all done the group gathered at the small table and had their meal. Roland, too large for the table, stood by with his plate in his now mended right hand.
Calum looked around the room, happy to have food and conversation again. Calum entertain Jun with stories about life as a prince. Taylan shared news of the region with Roland, Roland taking the most interest in the talk of Dunway gaining influence in the forest. Gabri sat quietly and ate her meal.
“The Saquaari will keep the peace,” said Taylan with a shrug, “don’t worry.”
“The Dun don’t need a war to conquer,” said Roland, “they already have Burroway and the Silver Marsh under their sway and now they are turning their sights on Lay’tol.”
“Let them come and take the ears of the nobles and then they will find no one rules this forest except those that live amongst the trees.”
“The Dun don’t rule with armies like the Kaborn or the men of the North, they prefer deep shadows and short blades and their manner is just as effective. Even the Arn cannot fight paranoia and lies, you had best tell your Brother that, he is the one most in danger.”
“Nonsense, the Arn may love their solitude but we are a family tighter than any other,” dismissed Taylan, “agents and assassins pass through our lands as easily as the thousand-men hordes of the Northern Men.”
“We saw some Hool on the way here. Why are they south?”
“I heard from the trees that the Fork is full. Many have been forced to leave their homes looking for new lands to settle, some are trouble, most are simply moving south. Ystari knows where they head after there, I doubt they find room for their camps in Dunway.”
The group finished their meal and Taylan took his leave. Calum and Jun lay on the floor next to the fire, a curtain now used replace the torn up rug. Roland took a chair against the front door and sat. Gabri said good night and went into the bedroom at the back.
As Calum enjoyed the warmth of the fire he thought on the unbelievable evening. He had seen magic at work for the first time and it had been awe inspiring. The power of the beast that had attacked Roland, a man Calum had seen slaughter a group of warriors with ease, was rendered helpless in its grasp. An unstoppable killing machine that was able to survive its head been removed and its body being pulverised. Calum wondered what he would learn from the Magi when he finally reached the White Spire as he lay by the warm fire.
The peace of his dreamless sleep was interrupted by a deep sound that shook his chest. Calum jumped up from the curtain. The farmhouse was quiet. Jun lay motionless next to the fire. Roland was not sitting in the chair and the front door open.
Calum got up and looked out the window.
The large silhouette of Roland stood in the middle of yard bathed in the moonlight. He watched for moment but the dark figure was not moving.
Calum puzzled by what had woken him but he was too tired to care. Calum found his place by the fire and closed his eyes. A quiet cough came from the back room were Gabri slept. Calum pulled himself back up and moved to door, knocking softly.
“Yes,” came Gabri’s voice from behind the door.
Calum opened the door slightly.
“I just wondering if you heard anything a few moments ago?” asked Calum.
“No,” replied Gabri, “maybe you were having a nightmare?”
Calum laughed to himself and opened the door fully. The room was lit by a small lantern that sat next to the bed.
“That is possible,” he said with a smile, “why are you still awake?”
“I am having trouble sleeping after... everything.”
Calum moved into the room and closed the door behind him, he noticed the salt was still in the piles by the windows, the shutters still nailed shut. Gabri sat up dressed in a loose night gown, a large leather bound book open in her hand.
“Those creatures were like nothing I have ever seen,” said Calum
“I thought it had gotten Pa,” said Gabri shaking her head and closing the book.
“They didn’t and they’re gone now,” said Calum as he sat on
the bed, “thank the gods you knew how to use that sword.”
Gabri laughed.
“That’s an impressive book,” said Calum his hand found the leather cover.
“It’s a family treasure. It’s full of legends from the old times. I love reading about the Age of Men,” said Gabri excitedly, “your Emperor, Ka, is in here, I suppose you know all of those legends.”
“I do, when you’re a prince you spend many hours in library reading all the histories.”
Calum’s hand slipped down the leather cover and found Gabri’s hand at the bottom.
“Diana the Blessed, Ka the Sower, Illiad the Lost, Rei the Defiant, Sulla the Fire Babe,” continued Calum, “hundreds of books, each begging to be read.”
“Who was your favourite?”
He paused for a moment and thought.
“Helena the Dragon Slayer, she was so strong and powerful,” he smiled and then added, “like you were tonight.”
Gabri kissed him and Calum kissed her back.
“Can you show me the lands of the First Kingdom?” she asked pulling back from the embrace.
Calum nodded and kissed her soft lips again, firmer this time.
“And the great walls of Kabrace?” she asked.
Calum looked deep into her in the eyes.
“We will ride from the eastern lands of Sulla to western lands of Illiad and see all the wonders in between,” he said quietly.
Gabri pushed the gown from her shoulders and exposing her breasts to him. Calum grabbed her within his hands, firmly and confidently as he always did. The firm flesh caused his body to explode with an energy. Calum pushed himself onto Gabri knocking the book from the bed.
Light spilled into the room and Calum looked up. Roland stood in the doorway.
“Boy,” he said with a low gruff voice, “are you telling your stories again?”
There was a silence and Calum released his hands.
“Leave Gabri be and get to bed.”
Calum looked back at Gabri, a shocked look sat on her face, she was frozen for moment. And then Gabri pulled her gown back to cover herself.
There was another moment and then Calum stood up. The bed creaked. Calum crossed the room. And passed under Roland’s arm.
“Excuse him, my lady,” said Roland, “his cock’s bigger then his brain and he ain’t got much down there to start with.”
Calum was chewing on his cheek. Roland closed the door.
Roland turned to Calum who was turning bright red. Roland didn’t speak, his arm came down and struck Calum across the face with back of his hand. Calum tumbled to the ground.
“What are you, boy?” hissed Roland trying not wake Jun by the fire, “a man saves your life and when his back is turn you try and take his daughter.”
Calum grabbed at his cheek, stunned, hurt and furious.
“I don’t know what ya get away with in castle but ya ain't a prince here.”
Roland body was large and ready for a fight. Calum did not speak.
“Get by fire and if I see ya move from it before morning this farmhouse’ll be the end for you.”
Calum lay on the ground as Roland towered over him, he could not attack the thug, not now. A fair fight he could never win against this brute. Maybe he should attack, anyway and see what Roland the Butcher would do to a boy of fifteen. That would be a tale for the bards, the young Prince Calum torn down before his time by the vicious and evil Roland the Butcher.
Calum nodded. Once. Sharp and short. Roland went to the front door and vanished into the darkness.
Calum went to the fire. His cheek throbbed, but he chewed it anyway, enjoying the pain that ran through his body. He looked at Jun lying motionless next to the fire.
Calum wanted to kick the boy into the fire and watch him burn like the beasts that had come before. That would show Roland he was not the only one who could strike at those weaker than himself, but at the same time Calum did not want to wake the boy who slept still and peace in the warmth of the fire’s glow.
Calum watched the fire burn and chewed his cheek. Then he realised was how easily he would been to kill Roland tonight. A sly kick while Roland was pinned, the creature would have torn the self righteous peasant apart.
Next time, Roland would look for his help and he won’t be there, instead he would smile from the shadows as the great Roland met his end. And the last thoughts of the man who had lived a thousand years would be the regret of treating Calum so badly.