“I will never get used to that tingle, Bren,” Jed said, as he rubbed at his hand. “What did your Emi think of it? Could she feel it as well?”
Brenyn smiled in remembrance. “She named it the ‘thrill of destiny’,” he replied. “She thought that maybe I would have to fight a dragon someday.”
Jed’s features grew serious. “Or maybe it means that you will find a way to slay every darking.”
Brenyn’s smile went away. “I mean to try,” he replied.
Jed glanced around their quarters and then sighed. “I think I am in need of a drink,” he said. “How about you?”
Brenyn nodded and moved toward the door. “Lead on, my friend.”
Jed and Evonne were married by the captain the following week, and afterward Brenyn had his quarters to himself. Winter came and the town was quiet. Though the men continued to train on warmer days, the world and its many wars stayed beyond the horizon. Beran Hile returned and remained in the town, waiting out the cold and often snowy days of the season.
One day, near the turning of the year, three riders appeared at the north end of the street, having been directed to the town by Marta. All three were soldiers, having served in the armies of the prince of Braddia, Dened, he who named himself a king, whose evil had driven Jed away from his service and into the mercenary fold.
The three men who appeared that winter related tales of King Dened’s vileness similar to that told by Jed. The men, named Aron, Karsen, and Foler, had been part of a contingent of soldiers guarding prisoners from Thayn that had been captured in battle. When orders came from the palace instructing the men to murder the prisoners, so as to save the principality the cost of feeding and housing them, the three, whose loyalty had been tested by other actions on the part of their king, finally decided that they could no longer abide such foul depravity on the part of him who was their monarch.
And so, they had deserted and fled into the wild, eventually coming into the remote valley where Marta maintained her market alongside the seldom-used ancient road. Marta had listened to the tales they told, decided that they were speaking truly and acting honestly, and had then sent them across the valley to her son.
Each was “tested” in the pub, as Brenyn had been upon his arrival, and, with differing results, each managed to pass the test. And so Brenyn, who was dwelling alone, gained a new roommate. The man named Aron was assigned to bunk with him.
Aron was a tall, well-formed man with dark skin, black eyes, and darker hair above a finely featured face with a straight nose and firm jawline. He bathed regularly, almost daily, used aromatic oils on his skin, and shaved his face every morning, refusing to tolerate even the suggestion of a beard.
Despite these eccentricities, Brenyn liked him, for he was also a man of even temper and one who took his training and his responsibilities seriously. He was also polite and respectful, and the story of his life was remarkably similar to Jed’s.
Aron had been married once. While he was away at war, the village where his young wife dwelled had been razed and his wife slain. Though officially, the terrible act had been blamed on the armies of Thayn, subsequent tales had cast doubt upon that version and suggested that, as with Jed’s folk, Aron’s people had lived too near to the border and their loyalties had become suspect. Over time, Aron had come to believe that his own monarch might have been responsible for the greatest loss in his life.
The episode of the Thaynian prisoners had convinced him that he could no longer serve such a wicked prince, and, along with his two comrades, Aron deserted his post and fled.
Though Brenyn was not one to seek out – or even need – new friendships, nonetheless Aron’s demeanor and serious mien won him over and they became friends.
One evening when Brenyn made one of his rare visits to the pub, as he was sitting at a booth talking quietly with Jed, Aron came over to stand by the table staring down at Brenyn with his black eyes wide.
“Bren!” He blurted. “They are saying that you destroyed a darking! Truly? Did you do this?”
For a brief moment, Brenyn felt a flush of irritation and it must have shown upon his face, for Aron, abashed, immediately held up his hands in apology.
“I am sorry, Brenyn – I did not mean to bother you.”
“It’s alright,” Brenyn replied. “No, I did not slay a darking. I was assaulted and the darking perished, but I know not how.”
Aron watched him for a long moment while an expression of disappointment came over his features. He frowned. “You don’t have to be so short with me, Bren. I was just curious, is all. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine.”
Brenyn, realizing that he had offended his friend, stood and faced Aron. “It is not that I do not wish to tell you what happened to the darking, it is that I cannot. Ask anyone who witnessed the event – they can tell you more than I.” He shrugged. “I am sorry, my friend, but I do not know what happened to the darking that assaulted me. Captain Murlet believes that it was my shield that protected me. It was crafted by my mother and she… possessed certain powers.”
At this, Aron’s eyes flew wide once more. “Your mother was a sorceress? What was she like?”
Brenyn shook his head. “I never knew her – she died on the day of my birth.”
“Oh, I didn’t know; I am sorry, Bren.” Then, Aron’s face fell with disappointment. “I wish I could have witnessed the darking’s death. I hate those foul, wicked creatures. They bring naught but war, death, and misery.”
Jed looked up. “Fear not, Aron – for someday, when Brenyn discovers what it is that he can do, he will slay them all.”
Brenyn rounded on his friend. “The power is in the shield, Jed, not in me. You know this.”
Jed tendered a wry smile and shrugged. “Truly, Bren? Then what of the thrill of destiny?”
Aron frowned at him. “The thrill of destiny? What is that?”
Jed motioned with his mug. “Go ahead; touch Brenyn on the shoulder with your hand.”
Aron turned toward Brenyn, still frowning.
Brenyn sighed and shrugged. “Shake my hand instead.”
Aron held out his hand and grasped Brenyn’s. At once, he pulled his hand back while his eyes narrowed. “What the –?”
Jed laughed. “That’s what destroyed the darking, Aron, not his shield – if you ask me.”
Brenyn turned hard eyes upon him. “You cannot know that for certain, Jed.”
Jed shrugged. “I can believe what I want.”
“There is something in you, Bren, for sure,” Aron declared.
“It’s the thrill of destiny,” Jed repeated.
At that, Aron’s features grew serious as he gazed at Brenyn. “Maybe it is, indeed,” he said. “I’ve thought this almost since I met you, Bren – I think that you will do something rather magnificent one day.”
Brenyn returned to his seat. Looking up, he shrugged. “If I could discover how to rid the world of the scourge of darkings, it would be sufficient.”
“Sufficient?” Aron said. “Nay – it would be magnificent.”
Brenyn drew in a deep breath. “For now,” he suggested, “let us speak of other, smaller things – alright? My mug has gone empty and tonight I need another.”
He stood and looked toward the bar, but Aron waved him back toward his seat. “Stay – after troubling you, I owe you one. I’ll bring it.”
“Thanks, Aron.”
When Aron had gone to the bar, Jed considered his own mug for a long moment and then looked up. “You want to talk of other, smaller things, Bren? – then I have something to tell you. In fact, it is the reason I asked you to join me tonight.”
Brenyn met his gaze and waited.
Jed drew in a deep breath while a smile took possession of his face. “Evonne is with child,” he said.
Brenyn smiled gladly. “Well, that is certainly not a smaller thing, Jed – that is great news. I am glad. You will be a father.”
Jed’s smile widened. “Indeed, I will.”
Jed’s smile also vanished to be replaced with an expression of alarm. “What is it, Bren?”
Brenyn leaned toward him and spoke quietly. “Just this – you will need to be cautious when we get another assignment. You have a wife, and now, a child. Let me take the lead when we go into battle.”
Jed shook his head, though he smiled at his friend’s concern. “Nay, Bren; I will hold my own, as always.”
“It is not about holding your own,” Brenyn said. “You have always done that. It is about being aware that your life is no longer entirely your own.”
Jed nodded. “I am aware, Bren.”
“Then stay near me in battle, my friend,” Brenyn insisted.
Jed smiled but returned no answer.
“What about names?” Brenyn asked.
“For the child?”
“Yes.”
“Seygord – if a boy – after Evonne’s father,” Jed answered. “And if a girl, then Kuria, after my sister who was slain by Dened.”
“Both good names,” Brenyn agreed.
Just then, Aron returned with a fresh mug for Brenyn. He grinned and raised his hand, vaguely indicating the far side of the room. “Some of the fellows think you are a wizard, Bren,” he said. “And I am not certain that I disagree.”
Brenyn, with his mood brightened by Jed’s announcement, simply smiled. “I am sorry to disappoint,” he replied.
Aron turned away but then looked back. “My grandfather was a wise man,” he stated. “And he said many wise things.”
Brenyn looked up. “Indeed?”
Aron nodded. “One that I always remember and that applies in this moment, I think, is this – time has a way of telling all things.”
Brenyn’s smile turned sardonic. “So, then – time will tell if I am a wizard?”
Aron did not return the smile. “That is what I think.”
Brenyn nodded. “Alright. Then let us let time have its way.”
Aron made to go once more but then turned back again and lowered his voice. “Who is the woman?” He asked.
Brenyn frowned and looked past him. “Which?”
“That tall, dark-haired woman over there by the captain,” Aron explained.
Brenyn leaned out and looked past him once again. “That is Glora, the captain’s sister,” he told him.
Aron stared across the room. “She is one beautiful woman,” he declared.
“She is, at that,” Brenyn agreed.
“She with anyone?” Aron wondered.
Jed started to speak but Brenyn silenced him with a look.
“No one that we know of,” he answered.
26.
The rest of that winter passed quietly, and spring returned to the valley. Beran Hile mounted up and went forth again into the broad world to seek employment for the band. Aron spent fewer and fewer evenings in the room, for he had at last worked up the courage to engage Glora in conversation.
For her part, much to Brenyn’s secret relief, Glora no longer looked at him, but regarded Aron with a new light in her eyes that seemed to dispel some of the shadows of the past that lurked there. Murlet noticed all this but gave no indication that he objected to Aron, though his sharp eyes often turned toward the couple as they sat together, talking quietly.
The days warmed. Gardens were planted behind the houses in the town and soon sprouted. Jed’s new bride, Evonne, began to show the promise of motherhood. The men trained daily while Captain Murlet anxiously watched the road across the valley for the return of Hile.
Then one day, several weeks after the legate had gone forth, he returned.
That night, the men were summoned to the pub.
Murlet bounded up onto the bar and looked around at them all. “Is everyone here?”
“Aye, cap’n, all accounted,” Sergeant Kristo told him.
“Prince Helvard of Gruene, for whose illustrious personage we have never labored,” Murlet began without preamble, “has offered the very princely sum of five hundred gold to aid him in his conflict with his neighbor to the south, Thalia.” His eyes hardened. “This will be a battlefield assignment, men, so consider that as well as the money when you cast your vote. Helvard has sought to hire other bands also; we will be fighting alongside those we know not.”
The captain went silent for a long moment. “I knew of a mercenary band once,” he then went on in quiet tones, “that was surrounded in battle and destroyed to the last man. I will do my utmost to make certain that such a fate does not befall this band, but I caution you all once more – we will be fighting on the line with others whose bravery and trustworthiness we do not know.”
“Helvard’s regular troops,” he continued, “have been badly reduced, both by the length of the war with Thalia and by poor leadership during that struggle, hence his need for mercenaries. As I stated, we know this prince not, and Beran is somewhat wary of Helvard’s reputation as it concerns his treatment of mercenaries, for he spends more time out in the broader world than we and he hears much.”
Here, Murlet glanced down at the legate for a few moments before continuing. “Helvard’s current situation, however, is dire,” he said, looking around once more, “and his need is great. Beran believes that if Helvard is defeated in the upcoming conflict, he will lose his throne, and perhaps his life – therefore the princely offer for engaging in but one battle.”
He paused again. “One thing is likely probable,” he went on, “should we go to this war, some of us – perhaps several of us – will not return. So, we will not vote at once, as is our custom. I will give you this night and the morning to decide how you will vote. Beran must leave by mid-day on the morrow to return our answer, and should we go to this war, we must follow close upon his heels. So – go now, all of you, and discuss, and then return here immediately after breakfast tomorrow to give me your decision.”
With that, and saying nothing further, the captain jumped down from the bar and went up to his quarters.
Brenyn, for whom the name of Helvard, prince of Gruene, revived memories of Armun Grizeo’s description of his father’s death all those long years gone, left the pub without talking to anyone and made his way up and into the forested hills above the town. For his part, he had no objection to fighting another man’s war for his share of five hundred gold pieces, but he worried about those with whom he rode, for he had grown quite fond of more than a few of them – Jed and Aron, in particular.
He made his way out onto the rocky promontory where he had once made his decision to live and gazed out over the valley.
After a while he heard the sound of someone else moving up the wooded slope toward him. The moon had come up behind him and its wan light cast a faint illumination down over the forest. It fell upon a solitary figure climbing the hillside.
It was Captain Johan Murlet.
The captain came straight up to the edge of the rock where Brenyn sat and began to climb up when he spied Brenyn. He halted and looked up. “That you, Brenyn?”
“Yes.”
Murlet chuckled. “I see that you found my thinking spot.”
At that, Brenyn stood. “I’m sorry, captain – I didn’t know.”
Murlet waved this away. “I don’t own the forest, you know.”
Brenyn remained standing. “If you need time alone, captain, I will go.”
Murlet sighed and began to climb the rock. “Actually, it will be good to have someone hear my thoughts and lend me theirs in return. Stay, Brenyn, if you will.”
Brenyn returned to his seat and Murlet climbed up and sat down. For a time, they both gazed out over the broad valley, cast in hues of gray and silver by the light of the nearly full moon. Then Murlet spoke.
“I do not know Prince Helvard,” he said, “and neither does Beran Hile.” He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “And I prefer assignments where we control the flow of events. This is a dangerous life, Brenyn, I know that, and men die in the course of what
we do for money, but still, every death brings me sorrow. I hesitate to put them at risk upon another man’s field of battle.”
Murlet went silent for a moment and then he looked over at Brenyn. “What are your thoughts?”
“Neither do I know Prince Helvard,” Brenyn answered, “but I have heard his name.”
This surprised the captain. “Indeed? In what context? How do you know of Helvard?”
“My father died fighting in one of his battles against Thalia, many years ago,” Brenyn told him. “And my father’s friend, Armun Grizeo, brought me his things afterward.”
Murlet looked away, down over the forest. After a moment, he nodded. “Your father was a mercenary, then.”
“Yes.”
“I knew that I had heard the name of Vagus,” Murlet said. He frowned in thought. “I think he rode with us once – tall man, black hair, strong-willed and fierce?”
Brenyn nodded. “That is how he was described to me, but I knew him not.”
Murlet looked over at him. “You did not know your father?”
Brenyn shook his head. “My mother died when I was born, and he went away to war. I was raised by my Gran.”
“Ah, you’ve never told me this,” Murlet said. “I am sorry.”
Brenyn shrugged. “I am sorry not to have known him, or my mother; still, my childhood was a pleasant one and life was good – until the darkings came.”
“Yes,” Murlet agreed, “those vile creatures have spoiled the world of men beyond remedy, I fear. There is a plague of ruin out there in the world, and those vile fiends have brought it upon us.” He smiled a rueful smile. “Not that we humans cannot make a mess of things on our own,” he admitted. “But those creatures arouse the worst in us – and they seem to instinctively recognize those men that are most… malleable.”
Silence fell between them then.
Behind them, the moon climbed the night sky, altering the positions of the faint shadows it cast among the trees.
Then, Murlet looked over. “What about Helvard?” He asked. “What are your thoughts?”
“I will vote to go,” Brenyn replied.
A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods Page 24