Posted by admin on March 30, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
If Bracken had resented my presence before, he now openly challenged even Baghorn’s judgment. If we hadn’t needed all the men to help with driving the wagons and handling the stock, I’m sure Baghorn would have dismissed one of us on the spot. We pushed the oxen south as fast as we dared, stopping at villages only long enough to rest, rather than hunt additional profits. Baghorn seemed convinced that his luck had finally run completely dry, and his only hope of avoiding ruin lay behind the gates of Anascrag and his own home.
Like Bracken, I wondered how or why Laural would disappear without any warning. We found their trail easily enough. They kept to the road, heading south, but the wagons had no hope of catching them. Quivain struck east at the first branch of the road, and we heard nothing more of the pair. In addition to the horses, they had taken food and supplies for a long journey, for which Pascalli agreed to recompense the caravan. “Your luck’s not as bad as you might believe, Baghorn,” said the wizard. He smiled and slapped the merchant on the back. “You’ll come through all this with a tidy profit, and a wealth of experience free of charge.”
“Experience is never free, and usually more costly than it’s worth,” replied Baghorn, only slightly reassured by the fresh coins in his pocket.
As we neared Anascrag, traffic increased substantially. Merchants mixed with adventurers and nobles, all beginning the gathering for the Festival of Spears. Although each individual noble retained his or her own guards, the blue and white uniforms of the imperial troops became commonplace. They patrolled the highway more regularly, keeping peace and offering comfort to the nobility.
One carriage in particular caught my eye. The wheels were narrow and taller than most, and the gold inlay covered nearly the entire vehicle. “Is that the emperor’s,” I asked Pascalli.
“No, lad. Narnal hasn’t attended the festival since he won the crown many winters past. That crest, the two-headed hawk is the family of Taradurk. Lord Taradurk is regent over the entire western empire.”
“This is the east,” I said.
“His family is wealthy, powerful, and well-connected to the emperor. They often visit Dynwater.”
The carriage curtain slipped aside briefly and I caught a glimpse of steel gray hair atop a solid frame. A moment of recognition seemed to pass between Pascalli and the man, but he pulled the curtain shut again and the carriage rambled past the caravan.
Though it was a large city by the standards of the empire, Anascrag carried the feel of a village still. The people decorated the open plazas and small houses with late blossoms and painted their homes and shops brightly with every color. Shopkeepers plied their wares with simple patience rather than yelling. Children played behind houses and in the streets, where wagons and people alike meandered with unhurried steadiness. Anascrag was a slow, self sufficient, unimposing city that captured my imagination and memory.
Iven brightened the moment the spires of Anascrag’s cathedral to Tylos became visible. Every moment his impatience grew, until I thought he would burst. We had not entered a large city since Havensod, and my experience there was unimpressive to say the least. I hoped there would be a clean inn with food I did not have to cook and a bed I could sleep in.
A large stone wall surrounds Anascrag, and that wall is visible for many kilometers in all directions across the vast wheat fields surrounding the city. Above the wall towers the great cathedral to Tylos. City guards patrol the walls regularly, and the four city gates, one for each direction of the compass, close at night. Admittance to the city is regulated but generally casual. The center of the empire is a mix of many cultures, and Anascrag’s cobblestone streets and alleys hold a variety of secrets from many places despite the unassuming look of it all. The city guards demanded our weapons until Pascalli produced letters of writ certifying his status as lord of Gratterskeep and my status as his knight and personal guard. At the time I thought Pascalli was merely passing off a lie so that we could remain armed. I later discovered, as will any historian, that Pascalli was indeed lord of Gratterskeep and that he had the authority to call me his knight and to allow me to bear arms for his protection. Being lord and knight respectively, brought us much improved status in the city.
Anascrag is divided into a number of districts, each bearing certain restrictions according to social status. As a farmer, for example I would have been relegated to some of the outer portions of the city while most of the middle and all of the inner portions were closed. Peasants and slaves could not pass out of the districts near the city walls without permission. In the middle of the city wealthier merchants and lesser nobles mingled, while the innermost portions were reserved for the wealthy nobles and the royal family who governed the city and surrounding lands. As a noble, however unimportant, Pascalli could be allowed access to some of the finer inns and services, and as his servant I was allowed many of the same privileges. Because we arrived late that first night, we decided to take up lodging at an inn closer to the outskirts, in one of the artisans’ districts, close to where Iven lived.
Iven departed the caravan the moment we passed the city gates. Baghorn frowned as he left, but said nothing. “We’ll help you unload your wares, if you wish,” offered Pascalli.
“Not at all,” replied Baghorn good-naturedly. “I’ve servants already for that.” He paid the guards and dismissed them with a smile. “It’s good to be home again. Good luck to you.”
I watched the caravan disappear, waiting for Pascalli to make up his mind. “We’ll spend a night at an inn I know. Iven needs time to settle in again.”
The smells of the place nearly overpowered me. Women, painted grotesquely, danced to idiotic tunes strummed out on over-zealous instruments. The western empire is famous for the class distinction, and all women of a certain profession are painted to disguise their true identities and class. Anascrag is a mixture of east and west, especially among the poor created mockeries of both sides.
Bracken stumbled into the place half-way through our meal. He smelled of liquor and swayed as he walked. The leer in his eye spoke of trouble, but I hoped he would seek it elsewhere. He planted himself less than a meter from my chair and growled. “I’m done with you whelp.” I can’t say what else he may have added after that. His boot connected with my jaw, and a cracking white light flashed across my eyes followed by darkness.
The familiar sound of Iven’s hammer already rang out a welcome to all who passed by early in the morning. I arrived somewhat later in the day, but my spirits rose immediately when I recognized the familiar tune.
“Have you eaten yet, Scratch?” he asked. His face broke into a larger grin than I had ever seen.
“No, sir,” I replied.
“Then go inside and get some breakfast from Whinnie. I expected the old man would send you my way, and judging from the way you look he’s been up to his old tricks again.” I gave him a shrug and headed into the house. “Mind you don’t take to long,” he called after me. “I’ve a bellows here that needs attention!”
Whinnie was as plump and kind a person I have ever met. Her hair, once blonde, was now streaked with gray. Her face, though kind and still happy was lined from worry about husband and children. Every moment her hands moved, constantly cleaning or mending or cooking, for the work never ended. Opposite I suppose in many ways to my mother who never appeared to do much, as a lady should, but who always kept a spotless house. My mother appeared weak, thin, frail, but stood in battle and faced down anyone foolish enough to cross her. Whinnie, larger and stouter than most women, had the strength of enduring rather than conquering.
She gladly took me in, and for a few short days became a second mother to me. “Scratch is not a proper name,” she said straight off. “I’m sure my thick skulled husband has long forgotten your true name, but I’ll not be calling a child something as unseemly as Scratch. What’s your true name, child?”
“Colter Halfspear,” I said. “I don’t much care for Scratch. It’s just what Iven called me when we first met, so everyone else does too, and I’m supposed to be traveling in secret.” I felt again during those days that I was again the child, again the boy who never left his village. I felt I could stay and enjoy and be loved again, and maybe, just maybe the curse wouldn’t follow me.
“You’re not traveling now, Colter,” she replied. Her voice was soft and gentle, more soothing to me than the balm she rubbed over my bruises. “We’ve no need for secrets here, but if you want to keep some for a rainy day, you go right ahead.” She gave me a wink and a smile. “Now I imagine that my ever-loving, demon driven, forge-master told you to join him at the bellows. There will be none of that as long as I am mistress of this hovel. You’ve journeyed thousands of kilometers only to find a wicked ambush at the hands of a conspiring wizard, whatever his intentions were. Today, and until the wizard decides to fetch you, you can rest and maybe even think of home.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Eight
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Six
Posted by admin on March 23, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
We turned south again, and Baghorn seemed in good spirits after acquiring more wool than anticipated. The weavers of Anascrag would pay handsomely for the quality we brought. As the markets passed, Pascalli mentioned his fears of the Kaarum again.
“They’ve had time to learn what happened in full at Havensod. They know we’re watching. It’s only a matter of time before they attack again,” he warned.
Baghorn also wished to reach Anascrag, where he had a home and shop, but seemed in no hurry. “The nobles won’t have arrived yet, and they’re the ones with the gold. If I return now my wife will spend all my profits before the festival even draws close. You’ve filled your contract. You’re free to go if you wish. The roads should be relatively safe now, and the wagons will be cumbersome for most robbers to think of stealing.”
“We’ll see you through to Anascrag,” I replied.
Pascalli began scouting ahead after that. He seemed preoccupied, though I could not guess his mind. Iven talked of nothing but his home. I drifted into the routine of daily work. The burdened wagons made only slow progress while we labored over the narrow roads which no one bothered to maintain.
Pascalli pulled me aside after returning from his scouting venture one evening. “I found the trail of Kaarum.”
“How close?” I asked.
“A few hours, I would guess. They were heading south ahead of us, but they could easily double back or circle around again. They’re avoiding the road, of course, but that means little.” He seemed more concerned than I expected. “I think they are scouting in force. Either that or this group has been lost a long time since Havensod. I counted a dozen tracks, but I’m sure there are more.”
“We better position ourselves for an attack, then,” I suggested. “They will be scavenging for food. It won’t take them long to realize that we’re here.”
We explained the situation privately to Baghorn. His face betrayed his alarm, though he kept his voice as calm as he could. “I’ve never heard of so many out here without their full army close by. If they’ve come down from the mountains again we’ve no chance at all.”
“True enough,” agreed Pascalli, but he winked. “They are either lost or scouting in force. I am certain any army is still hiding in the mountains. Though they will most certainly attack us if they find us, we have sufficient men here to save ourselves if we are smart about it.”
“I’ve no head for battle,” conceded Baghorn. “If we’re to live, then I suppose we’ll have to trust your judgment and hope for the best.”
He left us to organize the defenses and answer the questioning faces of his wife and servants. Pascalli looked at me expectantly, but I had no plan to offer. I glanced around the camp, quickly recounting the number of wagons, people, and livestock.
“The stream to the west will make approach from that direction difficult,” I said aloud as I thought through the plan. Pascalli smiled in response, but didn’t interrupt. “We can effectively block the road north and south with the wagons, which leaves the east open.”
“They are not highly intelligent creatures, and will likely take the easiest path, so they should choose the east, though they are also very unpredictable,” said Pascalli.
We bedded down for the night with the sure expectation of attack. Bracken and I shared the first watch. Iven lay near the wagons at the south edge of camp, but I knew he would sleep only lightly if at all until his turn at watch. Pascalli lay closer to the fire, but he also would likely not be asleep despite his pretense. Among the others nerves might keep some of them from their rest, but any experienced soldier steels sleep when offered the chance.
Though a veteran of many fights, Bracken still held little respect for any other man’s sword. He loafed near the fire, keeping the altitude’s chill at bay. In the distance a lone wolf cried out in the darkness. The sound echoed false, and I strained my ears for any other sound from the darkness. Bracken emptied his pipe into the fire, sending the sweet fragrance of the western leaf he favored across the camp.
“There’s nothing out there but wind and crickets,” he grumbled. “You jump at everything.”
The creak of leather rose above the muffled shift of leaves in the darkness. I drew an arrow and fired at a shadow blocking the reflection of the stars.
“They’re coming,” I cried.
My shout opened the attack as if my voice had the power to drive them forward. Dark animal shapes poured into the camp from the east and south. Bracken whipped his sword free and leapt to cover the space between the wagons blocking the south end of the camp. Someone behind me fired an arrow as I loosed a second shot. The first Kaarum reached the camp and I dropped the bow in favor of my spear. As expected, Pascalli met the attack at my side, his sword beating the familiar rhythm against the horns and claws of the Kaarum.
I set my spear against a charge and caught my enemy below his guard. The spear tore free, and I let it fall. As I drew my father’s sword I glanced south to see Iven crushing into another with his hammer. I looked quickly to Quivain’s blankets, but they were empty. Baghorn handled his rapier expertly. He closely guarded his wife and daughter while the servants struggled with cooking knives and logs from the fire.
Desperately, like wild cats forced into starvation, the Kaarum threw themselves at us. My warning had given us just enough time to bring our weapons into play, but they outnumbered us almost two to one. Two drivers fell to the onslaught. Their attackers tried to drag them back into the forest rather than face continued danger. Pascalli chased them down while I retrieved my bow. All around me, the frightened faces stared in disbelief at the remains of violence.
“Drag the Kaarum into the woods,” I said. “Let the scavengers have them if they can stomach them. Who’s hurt and who can help?”
“Only a bit of a scratch here,” said Bracken. “I think the drivers got the worst of it.”
“We’re all right,” said Baghorn. “I don’t see Laural.”
“Quivain is also missing,” said Pascalli as he added fuel to our dwindling fire.
“I’ll get a shovel,” offered Iven. “You can worry about the rogue another day. If the Kaarum dragged him off then I say good riddance. If he bolted then it’s the same.”
“I’ll have me a look,” said Bracken. “I don’t fancy Laural would slip off without at least telling me.”
“She’s gone,” said Pascalli. “Her bag is missing, and so is the pack Quivain won at dice just two markets back. Their trail will be easy enough to follow when the sun rises, if you’ve the inclination. They’ve taken a pair of horses as well, though, and they’ll have several hours start.”
“I knew he would bring nothing but trouble,” grumbled Baghorn. “You should have killed him when you had the chance.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Pascalli spoke first. “We are not the masters of life and death. Scratch did what he thought best, and his thinking kept you alive tonight. Any evil that comes of this will hurt him harder than you, that much is certain. If it’s the price of horses that concerns you, we’ll pay.” He drew a bag of coins from within his cloak. He slowly counted them over to Baghorn. “We’ll drive your wagons to Anascrag, but the pace will double. I’ve no concern for your profits or the welfare of your caravan, though I respect the boy’s judgment there. I’ve business in the west that cannot wait.”
Bracken watched the coins drop into the merchant’s hand and followed the bag as it disappeared again into Pascalli’s cloak. He caught my eye and turned quickly to help Iven with the dead. I moved to help restore order to the mess but Pascalli pulled me aside.
“By winter the Kaarum will be forced to move. Already some are willing to try the wilderness away from the main body. When the food disappears entirely on the other side of the mountains they will be forced out. Time is growing short.” The earnestness in his eyes frightened me a little. I relied on his calm reassurance to bolster my own bravado.
“How long will it take us to reach the keep?” I asked.
“We’ve many markets ahead of us yet, and tasks to perform before we get there. We can reach Last Gate by the end of summer if nothing more than expected goes wrong. Any later than that and we may have trouble surviving the winter.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Seven
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twenty Five
Posted by admin on December 29, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
After Havensod I began endless days of practice with sword and spear and bow. Pascalli carried an enormous oak shaft he would brandish when rancor took him, but he also hid a sword beneath his cloak. Iven preferred his hammer over anything else, but he relented long enough to show me the proper use of my father’s spear.
“Hold it thus,” he told me. “And watch your footwork.” He usually said that after I tripped again. “You’re feet give you control. Don’t rely on your eyes or hands. Your legs and hips are the power, not your arms. You’re scrawny as a chicken, lad. You can’t expect to beat me with strength alone.”
“Then how can I win?” I asked. I didn’t want to kill the smith or anyone at all, but my desire to learn grew insatiable.
“Play to your strengths. You’ve speed and nimble feet. Never force a blow you can draw me into, and don’t try to stop a blow you could just as easily avoid altogether,” he said. I listened carefully to the smith and each day tried to improve upon the last.
I soon discovered that Pascalli had truly mastered many skills. In addition to my daily or twice or thrice daily efforts with weapons, he taught and drilled and forced me to recite from memory arithmetic, poetry, and the solutions to complex problems. In many ways, traveling with those two was akin to being locked in a room with two over-cautious tutors from dawn until dusk. Of course usually tutors did not also have you doing the cooking and cleaning and tending the fire. I don’t mean to say that they treated me harshly. They merely kept me busy. I certainly had no time to be homesick or to cause trouble.
The days began early and ended very late. We did not push the horses too quickly, though Pascalli had a definite direction and course in mind. We traveled almost due east, but slightly north out of Havensod directly into the Shadowspine Mountains. After the first day we left the highway where it continued east and slightly south towards a pass that led out of the empire.
“We are in the wild now,” advised Iven. “You best keep your wits about you, Scratch.”
“I’ve been in the wild before,” I replied quietly.
“Of course you have,” said Pascalli, slightly condescending. “I’m sure your father did his best to get around your mother’s preoccupation with your safety.” I gave him a sour look, but he only smiled back. “Have no fear. You will have plenty of opportunity to learn.” When he caught my look of exasperation, he added, “There is no skill so great that it cannot be improved. We need meat and healing plants. One thing you do not do well is cook, and since you once expressed an interest in learning, I shall teach you. For that we shall need some herbs and plants of which you may not be entirely familiar.”
“I already know about herbs and plants and things,” I said.
“I’m sure you do,” he said dismissively. “Now ride on out and see if you can bring down an elk or buffalo.”
“Wouldn’t a deer be enough? There are only three of us,” I suggested.
“We need more than just meat,” he replied. “A bear or tiger would be good, though I doubt you will see one. Fat and furs will see us through the winter.” He gave me a mysterious grin. “Of course if all goes well we will have other resources for the winter. Still, we better plan for the worst.”
“We’ll need to move higher into the mountains if you want to find game that large,” I said. “It’s too hot this low.”
He smiled back at me. “Of course, Scratch, you lead the way. Take us north and east until we reach the head of the Dustwater.” I thought he was joking, but after a moment I realized he actually expected me to pick out our trail.
Under my leadership we progressed slowly. I turned out to be a less proficient tracker than I had expected, though not as bad, I think, as Iven had guessed. My father taught me as much as a young boy could learn, and I stayed alert to the hints Pascalli dropped each day. After three days we finally came upon a small stream that flowed icy cold from the mountains. “I see you’ve finally found it,” chuckled Pascalli, and my ears burned. “Why not rest a while,” he suggested, although it was only mid-day. “This is a branch of the Dustwater. We can follow it upstream until it joins the main river. Perhaps the smith can catch a fish for our supper and you can show me that trick you do with the spear again.”
The trick he referred to was the one where he disarmed me and sent me sprawling head over heels. I felt in no mood to be bruised again. “I need to check for animal sign,” I said.
“Good idea, I’ll come with you,” said the old wizard. I expected Pascalli to do little more than be a nuisance, much less offer any real help. To my great surprise he proved to be both much more expert than myself, and a much kinder teacher than I had hoped.
“Shhh, Scratch,” he breathed. “See, there, the path of a small snake where it has crossed to get water. And there, that broken twig is fresh, only a few minutes. A mountain buffalo most likely, there haven’t been any sign of bear.”
Sure enough it only required a few moments of careful looking to spot a clearer set of tracks among the softer ground near the water. We found a medium sized bull grazing near the stream.
“Do you know where to shoot?” asked Pascalli.
“Yes, I replied,” as I pulled my bow. My aim was true, and the arrow found its mark just behind and a little below the shoulder. I drew and loosed a second arrow when the first one didn’t drop the mountain buffalo. After a moment though, it stumbled and fell over. I had never before killed anything quite so large and felt a mixture of emotions as I watched the blood ooze from its nose. Slaying something so great and beautiful felt both wonderful and horrible.
“You begin skinning it,” said Pascalli. “I’ll get Iven.”
We had a wonderful feast of fresh meat that evening, the first I had enjoyed since leaving Dunston. We scraped and cured the hide. We carefully jerked thee rest of the meat. Pascalli took the time to show me the proper technique for curing the hide while we rested and gathered our strength.
“We’ll need at least two more hides like this by the end of summer,” warned Pascalli. “Three or four would serve us better.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Not that again,” laughed the wizard, and Iven added his own rough chuckle. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why do we need so many hides if there are clothes and blankets we can buy?” I said.
“That should be obvious even to you,” replied the wizard. “There is a strong possibility that we will spend the winter in the mountains without access to other resources. You have much to learn before you can take up your father’s destiny.”
“What do you know about my father?” I asked.
“More than you,” replied Pascalli with a wink. He saw the hurt and anger in my eyes. “No need for that. I mean no harm. I know a great deal about many people. Your father was a great man and he left you a great responsibility. Can you understand that?”
“I can do what needs doing,” I said.
“Then find us meat and hides before we have to go to ground for the winter. Before you know it your real work will begin and you’ve not long to prepare for it. You will take up Kyven Halfspear’s work, and I mean for you to be fully prepared when you do.”
I brought down another buffalo and three elk before the first snow, and for the first time in several markets Pascalli seemed content. Then one day Pascalli told me to take the rear. I had lead long enough. At first I felt that I had somehow disappointed him with my performance. I must have taken too long or not properly followed the river. I quickly realized he was looking for a specific place, one that I could not possibly know about. He guided us higher and deeper, beyond the farthest homesteads. Eventually I lost the path entirely though I did my best to watch our back trail. Pascalli taught me to pick out landmarks so that if I ever rode the same trail twice, either coming or going I would be able to find my way. Despite his training I admit I could not keep the path clearly in my mind. He guided us for more than two markets. In the dead of winter we entered a cave deep in the mountains far beyond the known passes of men.
We had already consumed much of our meat. Iven complained more than once about the lack of fuel for his pipe. Pascalli waved away our concerns lightly. “We’ll soon have more than we need I’m sure, though you may not like what you get. Tomorrow we’ll enter the realm of the Veldmen. They’ll see us through the winter safe enough.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Fifteen
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Thirteen
Posted by admin on December 22, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
I thought we would point the wagon towards one of the many city gates, but instead we drove to the old fort near the center of town where the Eastern Watch kept their command. Though the town came alive early with farmers and artisans already preparing for a busy day in the city’s sprawling markets, the fort seemed abandoned. All around the noise of the city erupted almost at once, while the old fort waited in silence, like a skeletal crown on top of a low hill.
The fort gates stood open, and the sentries merely waved and nodded at Pascalli as we approached. Inside only a few soldiers were visible. Across the yard I heard Iven’s hammer ringing against the anvil. I could just make out his broad shoulders working in the cool morning air.
“Lord Armos is waiting for you,” said a man I did not recognize.
Pascalli nodded towards Iven. “Fetch the smith as well. He’ll be needed this morning,” said Pascalli. The man hesitated. Obviously he knew how little Iven liked to be disturbed when working. “Tell him I sent you, and you may have better luck.” Pascalli winked and laughed to himself. The soldier reluctantly turned towards the forge. “Once we’re inside, speak only if spoken to. A great deal may be said today, none of which you should either understand or concern yourself with at the moment. However, I would like you to remember what goes on. Above all, pay attention to the faces you meet today, for they won’t soon forget yours.”
I followed the towering wizard into a low building with thick stone walls. A soldier escorted us down a narrow hallway to a small room at the back of the fortress. A little sunlight filtered in through narrow windows near the ceiling, but the real light came from two dusty lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
Two men waited inside. I recognized Daven. The friendly priest seemed genuinely delighted to see me. “I’m glad to see you again, Colter. We lost a lot of men in the battle. None of us knew what happened to you.”
I caught the wizard’s eye and held my tongue. “I am Lord Armos,” said the other man. His graying hair rested on the armor covering his broad shoulders. His cares weighed heavily, causing him to stoop slightly when he stood or walked. His voice sounded tired, but still carried the firmness of a man used to giving orders. “Pascalli says that you have entered into an apprenticeship with Iven. Is this true?”
I didn’t know anything about it, but I guessed that Pascalli must have arranged it. “Yes, sir,” I replied.
Pascalli presented a document. I recognized my name but not the paper. Iven opened the door and stepped inside. I felt crowded between the two massive men.
“I see you’ve taken an apprentice,” said Armos. “Usually we like to be informed of these changes beforehand. We hoped you would continue with us, but I am sure you want to rejoin your family.”
“That’s right, sir,” replied Iven. “I’ve a home and forge in Anascrag that are missing me. The boy has already learned a lot. He proved himself a solid worker, and I can use his help.”
“Imperial law frees you from service so long as you have been accepted by a master of Iven’s status. We’ll need another witness.” He opened the door and spoke quickly to the soldier who stood guard outside. “Captain Torbridge has become invaluable since the battle. He’s assisting me here now, though we’re shorthanded and most of the officers spend more time in the field than usual.”
Armos returned to his seat and motioned for the rest of us to sit down as well. Daven filled wooden goblets with wine while we waited for Torbridge.
“It is a pity that so many died in the battle,” said the priest to no one in particular. “Lord Kelsin has been greatly missed.”
“”He wasn’t a bad man.” To my surprise Iven spoke. “I never agreed much with him, but he didn’t deserve such a death.”
“You saw it then?” asked Armos.
“The lad and I watched from a hill,” replied the smith. “War is a gruesome thing, but nobody should suffer the terror those men faced before they perished. It’s no surprise so many deserted. They’ll not want to face the Kaarum again if there’s risk of that happening again.”
“I am sure the effect was equally potent on the Kaarum,” said Pascalli. “They will not venture south so easily again. Not only are their numbers largely dwindled, but even their powerful masters will not be able to force them out until they are on the brink of starvation.”
“How long will that take?” asked Daven.
“A few summers, possibly longer,” replied Pascalli. “I’ve not visited their broken land in many winters, so it could also be sooner.”
“The Eastern Watch cannot recover in time,” said Armos. “I hope you are wrong.”
The wizard’s eyes flickered and the corners of his mouth tightened slightly. “This would not be the first time you hoped I was wrong.” His words cut the old general, and he slouched in his armor. “I doubt you’ve anything to worry about.” Pascalli’s tone brightened. The stern edge left his voice. “They will try the west next, unless I miss my guess. After they exhaust the wilderness north of the wall they will find Anascrag.”
“There’s a ray of hope for us, then,” said Daven. He smiled. “This heavy talk does nothing to cheer any of us. I’ve no head for battle, or for politics. Pass round the wine again. Besides, Colter is to be congratulated. An apprenticeship such as this will be very valuable for him.”
“What will be valuable?” I recognized Torbridge’s voice from the doorway.
“Young Halfspear has entered into an apprenticeship,” said Armos. “We need you to witness the discharge.”
Torbridge glanced around the room. If he guessed any of Pascalli’s mind he didn’t show it. He scarcely glanced at the document before adding his signature to the bottom. “You can collect your wages with the quartermaster.” He left the room as abruptly as he came. Armos added his signature and handed me the paper.
“Listen to your master, boy. He’s a man who knows the world and the men in it. You’re free to go.” Lord Armos returned to his chair and sighed heavily.
Iven took me by the shoulder and guided me from the room. Pascalli followed us to the wagon. “I’ll meet you at the drover’s after you’ve collected his wages and your gear. They brought in some wild horses to break for the army a few markets back. I’ve a feeling they’ll have some surplus, and we’ll need extra mounts.”
As Iven took me to the quartermaster I noticed how few soldiers garrisoned the walls. A line of women waited outside another low building, some of them carried or led small children. They stood in near silence, many of them weeping. “They’ve come to check the lists of the dead, and collect their husband’s wages” said Iven. “They call it the widow’s due, but only half will ever see it. Without a body their claim can’t be proven, and they’ll write him down as a deserter. The sorrow of those men buried in the valley will continue for many winters to come.”
“They’ll starve,” I said.
“Or worse,” said Iven. I wondered at his statement, but held my tongue.
Iven loaded a heavy pack onto my shoulders before taking an even larger load for himself. We struggled beneath the weight down the hill and to the north edge of town where wide corrals held stock for sale to the slaughterhouses or the stables. We found Pascalli haggling with a much smaller man over the price of horses. In the end he traded the wagon and more money than he cared to spend for seven strong horses bred in the mountains.
“Your mother knows something of horses, I believe,” said Pascalli. “Did she ever teach you anything about them?”
“I could ride before I could walk,” I replied. “These are good horses if you plan on a long journey over rough ground. I know the mountain breeds. They have heart and endurance, but they can be hard to break. They’ve short legs, so don’t bet on winning a sprint.”
“You’ve a keen eye, lad,” said the gentleman selling the horses. “I can use an extra hand if you’re interested.”
“The lad’s spoken for,” interrupted Iven gruffly.
The man nodded. “The name’s Tondo, if you change your mind. I drift between here and Dynwater, though I’m usually further north during the summer.” He tipped his hat and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with someone who understands it.”
We mounted and Pascalli led us toward the city gates. As we left the drover I noticed a familiar wagon pull up. Farmer Trakkin dismounted, and I saw Anaria idly toying with a flower in her fingers. I caught Pascalli’s sleeve and pointed in their direction.
“You’ll only bring them trouble if they see you now,” said the wizard. “Torbridge made a point of ignoring you, but you should know he hasn’t forgotten your name or face. As soon as he’s able he’ll send word to those who care that you’ve left the army and Havensod. Your father left a name in the world that draws the attention of men with power. Before winter comes they’ll be looking for you, and no apprenticeship will keep you safe then.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Fourteen
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twelve
Posted by admin on December 15, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
What seemed like only moments later a hard boot brought me painfully to my senses. I expected to see the tall form of Pascalli looming over me in the dark before dawn, but instead a greasy man of medium build with dirty blond locks hanging about his chin leered at me.
Master Horrofmen, the owner of the Blue Dragon, did not care for my intrusion upon his establishment and reminded me at every turn.
“Whip him soundly if he’s lazy, Jakand,” he warned the greasy cook. “I’ll not have any loafers in my place.”
True to his orders, Jakand kicked me whenever a foul mood took him or if he thought me too slow. He took to calling me Lazy Nob and relegated me to a corner with even less straw than before.
“Up and earn your keep.” Jakand’s voice sounded slightly raspy and clearly not content. I pulled myself from the ground, blinking stupidly. “The wood needs split as Jon’s left it undone again. Now get.”
“Where?” I stammered. By now I was getting used to being ordered around by people I didn’t know.
“In the back, stupid.” I noticed his knee bending slightly as he readied another kick and I scampered away to work. I split the wood and sharpened the axe on a stone in the barn. I neither saw nor heard Pascalli, though I knew he must be close by as no one had called for the horses or wagon.
At the Waystop guests were infrequent except after harvest when the merchants came, and the times I helped Harrim I could do any task at my leisure. The Blue Dragon was crowded with travelers from many places, and their demands filled not only my time, but kept the four regular servants busy as well. Jon never spoke to me except to give me another task though I guessed from Jakand’s manner that to take pity on me would cause him trouble.
“Vergha has taken ill,” said Jakand the following morning. “You’ll help Laural with the cleaning until she is better.” Vergha, the older woman who cleaned the rooms looked as fit and healthy as ever. Her hand moved as quickly as any young girl’s when I stole a crust of bread for my breakfast, and her string of curses betrayed the strength in her lungs as I darted from the kitchens. Jakand liked her, however, and I knew there would be no peace if I displeased either of them.
I found Laural on the second floor sweeping dust from the corners. “Jakand sent me to help,” I said.
She smiled back and looked at me through greasy bangs that got into her eyes. Although certainly older than me she seemed at once both younger and more mature. A hint of lighter color showed beneath the dirt and grime covering her hair and face. I saw a freckle or two where she wiped the dirt from her nose. I knew I must look little better, and pushed the hair back over my ears.
“Start over there,” she said. She pointed at a pile of rubbish in the corner. “I brought a bin up with me. You can find an extra broom in the kitchen if you’re brave enough to go back down there.”
I laughed a little. “Not just now. Vergha’s not in a pleasant mood this morning.”
“Or any morning,” agreed Laural.
I didn’t mind the work even though many of my old friends would have considered fit only for a woman. Laural made the place feel almost pleasant. We worked through the day, exchanging lighter conversation than I had enjoyed since arriving at the inn. By evening I was tired, but content with the day’s work.
When a rough hand shook me awake in the middle of the night I thought Jakand had found another torture. I didn’t expect to see Pascalli smiling back at me. He held a finger to his lips and motioned for me to follow him out of the kitchens. In the opposite corner Jon stirred a little in his sleep, but resumed his rhythmic snoring as I joined Pascalli in the alley behind the Blue Dragon.
“Where have you been?” I demanded in the loudest whisper I could manage.
“I believe my affairs are my own,” he said through stern brows. “Some may argue that I need a keeper, but I reserve the opinion that you are not the person for the job.” His lecture tone melted quickly. “I’m sure you’ve had a time of it. Jakand was always a bit of a brute, and far too dull for my taste. I hope he hasn’t handled you too badly.”
“I’m alive,” I said. “The work isn’t bad, and he’s slow with his kicks in the afternoon. Will we be leaving soon?” I tried to make the question sound as pitiful as possible.
“Not soon enough for your liking, I’m afraid.” I frowned and stared at the feet. I hadn’t noticed the chill air in the alley until then. “Don’t sulk. Another day, maybe two and we’ll be on our way. I just wanted to see that you were alive and let you know I hadn’t forgotten. Have you seen any imperial troops?”
“No. I’ve only seen merchants and a few travelers. I haven’t talked to any of them as Jakand doesn’t like us to speak to the guests,” I replied.
“Technically you have deserted your post, so I don’t think you should strike up a conversation with anyone who might recognize you at the moment,” he said.
“You’re nothing but trouble,” I said.
“Most people I know would agree with you.” He smiled, and his eyes softened. “You will have to trust me, Scratch. Tomorrow I’ll speak with Torbridge or whoever they’ve left in command. I’ll have it sorted out soon enough. In the meantime, be careful who you talk to. There are plenty of scoundrels around who intend you harm.” He handed me small packet wrapped in a bit of cloth. “I saved bit of food which I’m sure will taste better than the swill Jakand usually passes around.”
I took the food. “Thanks,” I said. Despite the circumstances, I felt I could trust him. “Have you seen Iven?”
“He’s doing well. He returned to his post at my suggestion. At the moment he is rather worried about you. It will do him good to know that you are safe, though perhaps not as comfortable as you would like,” said Pascalli.
“Will he be coming with us?” I asked.
“Probably,” replied Pascalli. “Now off you go, and be quiet. I’ll fetch you as soon as I can.”
In the morning I resumed my chores, though my heart felt a little lighter after Pascalli’s reassurances. Laural found me splitting wood. I was glad for her company. She had washed her face and hair, and her freckles showed clearly in the morning light.
“It must me a festival day,” I commented. “You look fit to celebrate.”
“Any change is nice,” she replied. “This place wears you down until there’s hardly anything left. I’d like to leave the Blue Dragon forever.”
“What’s holding you here?” I asked. “Surely you’ve kin somewhere who would take you in.”
“My father owed Master Horrofmen for the rents on his shop. When the time came to pay he offered me instead. Five winters of service. If I had the money I could buy my way out, but where could I get any money? I’ve nowhere to run even if I dared try.” The helplessness in her eyes echoed the emptiness of her voice as she spoke. “You’ll be moving on soon enough, though, won’t you?”
I hesitated, unsure if she had overheard my conversation with Pascalli or if she was just guessing. “I hope so,” I said. “Jakand’s boot is getting uncomfortable.”
“He’s a pig,” agreed Laural. We shared a laugh at the man’s expense. “Do you think your friend could take me with you?”
“You should have been sleeping,” I said.
“You shouldn’t make so much noise when you walk.” She countered.
“I only met him a few days before we came here. I don’t know where we’re going or when. If he has plans, he hasn’t told me about them. You can ask him what you like.”
Pascalli appeared before dawn the following day, before most of the guests had risen, and even before our work had really begun for the day. I heard his voice booming from the common room. “Horrofmen, I require my baggage. All of it now, including the bit that walks. Have my team sent around immediately. I must be off at once.”
Horrofmen poked his head into the kitchens long enough to point a finger at me and jerk a thumb towards the stables. “Best get your horses ready, boy.”
Laural caught my sleeve as I walked out. “Come on,” I said. “No harm asking.”
Pascalli met us at the stable. “Get the horses, lad. Don’t bother with the girl. We’ve enough baggage already.”
“Please, sir, I can cook and mend,” said Laural.
Pascalli looked at her more kindly than I expected. His voice was gentle, but firm. “Where we go you cannot come, child. I know Horrofmen for his black heart and unyielding ways, but do not give up hope too quickly. Help is often just a moment away. I cannot help you today, but another may come along just when least expected. Hop to, Scratch! Don’t forget your pack!”
What an idiot I must have been. I loaded my pack onto the wagon, and as I did I remembered the money Master Wilder had given me. I waved at Laural, and she came to help. “It isn’t much, but it should be enough for a start,” I said. “I’ve no use for it.” I handed her the coins, and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She tried to speak, but turned away and darted inside.
“Now then, lad, let’s be off. We’ve much work today,” said Pascalli.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Thirteen
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Eleven
Posted by admin on December 8, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
Torbridge rode up a few minutes after the rumbling stopped. His horse’s eyes rolled wildly with fear and exhaustion. A few soldiers straggled behind him. “You’d best come with us if you want to stay safe,” he ordered. But Iven just laughed.
“And what will you do that I can’t?” The smith planted his feet and mocked the captain. “Go on Torbridge, go rally the peasants back in Havensod.”
“You, boy, come with me!” It was more of a plea than an order. I think that was the first time I started to realize that my name had real meaning to people in the wide world. He moved to grab me, but I recoiled and he turned and rode away screaming, “Fools!”
In the valley below a few more eruptions shook the plain before the earth everywhere let out a great sigh. Straggling bands of Kaarum wandered north while straggling bands of soldiers wandered south. The great Kaarum warlord lies buried deep in the earth now along with Lord Kelsin. Bent and broken corpses littered the valley floor along with the scattered remains of weapons and wagons. I clutched my spear and retched again.
“Best use of a spear I’ve seen in a long time,” commented Iven.
“I agree,” said a voice I didn’t recognize until I turned around. There stood the stranger from the night before, quietly surveying the valley. His face was as cold as stone, but his wrinkles made it look like he was smiling even in the face of such destruction.
“Everywhere you go death follows, Pascalli,” said Iven. “Not even Kaarum deserve to die like that.”
“At another time I might debate that point with you,” replied Pascalli calmly. “For now let my work speak for itself. There is no question how I feel about the Kaarum or their masters or their servants.”
“And what of the men?” The smith screamed back. It is a testament to me of the gravity of the violence I witnessed that Iven would lose his temper. Passionate as he was, I never knew him to blink an eye at seeing a man crushed or burned or have a limb cut off. “They have done nothing.”
“I came to warn them, my friend,” replied Pascalli calmly. “Would there be more alive if I had let the Kaarum slaughter them? Would there be less suffering if I had waited? I tried to keep them back but I could not.”
“That is no way for a man to die.” Iven sulked.
“And I am sorry you witnessed it. You should have waited by the wagon. One of you at least has the sense to do as they are told. Scratch, my boy, come here.” Of course I obeyed. I had done nothing more than obey since leaving home. “Let me see.” He looked into my eyes in a way that only Pascalli could look. I felt as if he were searching my soul, looking for some spark of fate that he could ignite. I tried to hide it, and the harder I tried the wider his grin grew until he chuckled and said, “So it is true after all.”
“What’s true, sir,” I asked.
Again Pascalli chuckled. “A fool’s dream, that’s what. Now no more nonsensical questions until you are old enough to not understand them properly. Where are your things? Where is your horse?”
One thing about Pascalli that I always found interesting was his way of constantly asking questions but always refusing to answer them. For example, when I asked “Where are we going?”
He replied, “Ha, and what sort of silliness is that. I might just as well ask what you mean by that. Where are we going now? Nowhere. We are eating lunch right here. Later today? South, generally. Perhaps to Havensod and perhaps not. To Darnuth Keep. Ultimately? Who knows? Where are we going in life, you might just as well give up on that one. In fact, I would suggest you give up asking altogether until you are a bit older, say two hundred or so. Just keep your eyes and ears open and the answers will come when you need them.”
“Who are you?” I persisted.
“I see you won’t be satisfied without a few answers at least,” he said. He smiled broad and laughed as if the battle never happened. “I’ve nearly forgotten what it is to be curious and ignorant.” If he saw my frown he ignored it. “My name is Pascalli, at least that is what I am generally called. I am a wizard. To some I am The Wizard. To others I am other things, both better and worse. You may call me Pascalli or master, for I will continue the training that Iven has started.”
“What do you want with me?” My head reeled with unanswered questions.
He laughed again. “That is a question with many answers, most of which you could not possibly misunderstand correctly. Let us say simply that you and I share the same goals, and a part of the same destiny. I fight the Kaarum. More specifically I seek to destroy them utterly. You will help me. In time we may even succeed. At the moment it does not matter. The fact that Harrim Wilder finally saw fit to thrust you upon the world is at least a sign that things may begin to right themselves.” He saw the question in my eyes. “How I know the innkeeper and why are not questions I shall answer at the moment. Nor shall I bother with the dozen other you would conjure if I didn’t stop you. At the moment I want lunch.”
Between Pascalli and Iven existed a kind of quiet alliance that teetered on hatred but was held together by contempt of both the Kaarum and the injustice of men. I could plainly see that Iven trusted the wizard as he trusted no other man, but that he liked him no better than Torbridge. I found myself drawn to his smile, but a silent warning in my mind told me to tread carefully.
Though the Eastern Watch largely destroyed the Kaarum that day, they suffered tremendous losses. Many soldiers deserted following the destruction and the surviving officers spent the next markets searching for them or hunting the starving pockets of Kaarum. Pascalli had several loose ends to tie up in Havensod, most of which had little to do with me. He had contracted the help of a group of people very much unknown to me, and as I gathered unknown to anyone in the empire. First, however, Iven, Pascalli and I returned to Havensod. While I still remained a soldier in the imperial army and I remained Iven’s charge, Pascalli directed our affairs now and I am certain he didn’t take more than one eye off of me for longer than an instant.
Havensod is a favorite home for merchants, travelers and rogues. Most towns of any size are wonderful to visit, but Havensod has a peculiar kind of warmth about it that welcomes travelers. Inns, taverns, warehouses, shops, bazaars; all of the wonderful places a city should have mixed with the earthy roots of the farmers that built it. The few remaining old families who made Havensod their permanent residence were very old indeed and still mingled their blood with gentleman farmers in the surrounding region. The new permanent families were likewise very few in number and included wealthy merchants tired of their travels but still hungry for news of the world outside. Everyone else visited but never stayed. Shops changed owners almost as quickly as turnips, and the merchant selling beads one market would be gone the next only to return in a five market or a summer peddling pots or rugs. Of all the major cities in the empire, only Havensod openly welcomed foreigners, though few rarely crossed the eastern mountains or made the long trek from the south.
In those days alliances had yet to be forged with the kingdoms across the Shadowspines, and the Darkunders remained under suspicion. Havensod provided a sort of door to the empire for such folk. Pascalli bundled me into the back of the wagon and we entered the town just as dusk fell on the highway. “Here your name is Buck,” he told me. “Don’t you forget it. No mention of battles or Kaarum here, do you understand?”
“Yes,” I mumbled, not really understanding.
“You are a servant in my employ for about the last thirty markets. I treat you harshly. If anyone asks questions, show them your scars and mumble something about me beating you.”
A question started in my throat but he cut it off.
“I’ve neither time nor inclination to explain. Suffice to say that you are in real danger while in Havensod and that Iven and I are your only friends. Now in you go and keep your head down.”
Pascalli chose for our lodging one Blue Dragon inn. The place tickled my nose slightly with the odor of refuse behind the smoke and ale. Pascalli pulled the wagon around behind the inn and hopped out. “Stable the horses. Then bring our gear up to my room,” he growled.
I jumped to obey. Iven returned to the local guard headquarters and left me alone to unload everything. Apparently Pascalli gave orders that I was to do the job myself since none of the inn’s servants lent a hand. I did not finish until late into the night, and when I did Pascalli sent me off to find a corner to sleep with the servants. I collapsed in an exhausted heap on a pile of dirty straw and fell instantly into a deep slumber.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Twelve
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Ten
Posted by admin on December 1, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
I sat working on my armor by the light of a lantern at the end of the wagon when a man rode into camp on a great, fat, speckled gray horse. He was a large man, well over two meters tall (even without the hat) with flowing black hair streaked with gray and a beard that reached to his waist and below. He kept the beard tucked into a great black belt that stretched around his middle, holding up sky blue trousers over a startling yellow shirt. He covered himself with a thick green cloak and topped his head with a wide-brimmed green hat whose point bent slightly to the right. Larger even than Master Wilder, larger than Iven, yet he sprang from the horse as lightly as a young squirrel and tipped his hat to me.
“Good evening, young master,” he said as pleasantly as if we were enjoying the mid-summer’s festival together.
“And a good evening to you, sir,” I replied.
“I see the young still catch themselves up in these travesties.” His eyes danced as he spoke. “Take the advice of an old man and go home.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t,” I replied. To this day I do not know what drove me to say that. Perhaps it was his tone or manner, but I felt angry and sad and above all lonely. I had no home.
“What then? Can’t? Won’t? Ha! Who are you?” His tone was mischievous but I felt pacified.
“Colter Halfspear, sir, but here they call me Scratch.”
“Scratch, ho, ho!” he bellowed so loudly I thought the entire camp would wake. “That’s just grand. Halfspear’s son relegated to Scratch.” He laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. Just as suddenly as it started, the laughter stopped. His face turned serious, and I caught a look such as when my father told me something he didn’t want my mother to know about. “Now listen to me Scratch. Tomorrow is going to be a bloody day that won’t soon be forgotten in these valleys.” There was earnestness in his voice that transfixed me to him, a depth in his eyes that captivated me. His strength of will bound my attention. “Stick close to Iven, do you understand?”
“No sir,” I replied. I hadn’t really thought of doing anything else, but I really didn’t understand this fellow at all.
“Don’t leave the blacksmith’s side, not for a moment, not if demons themselves try to tear you away. I’ll be back afterwards, and perhaps then you’ll understand.” Then he smiled at me. It was a kind smile, the first kind smile I had seen since leaving home, and I trusted it. “Yes, I think perhaps we will meet again.” Then, just as quickly as he had appeared he parted the flap to Lord Kelsin’s tent and entered.
I listened at a safe distance from the tent, watching the lanterns extinguish around the camp. Only a few words escaped from the secret council, mostly the brash tones of the enormous stranger. The camp had changed in the last few days. A nervous air buzzed around us, and my curiosity itched until I wanted to be a part of the great plans for the coming battle.
I stayed awake nearly all of that night, both to finish my armor and to see if the stranger would re-appear. His horse had not been stabled, and I was half tempted to do the job for him. My armor fit nicely after a few hours of steady work, and I was sure it would pass Iven’s closest inspection. Just as I finally began sinking into sleep, the stranger grabbed me and pulled me wide-awake. “Remember, Halfspear, stay with the smith and trust not to fools,” he whispered. I hardly understood his words in the darkness, but he persisted. “You’ve friends and enemies all about you, and no time to sort them out. If you value your life and the legacy of your father you’ll keep away from the valley tomorrow and stay close by Iven.” He vanished into the darkness with a flurry, and I slipped into a deep slumber.
I woke late the following morning. I had grown used to the movement of the wagon through endless nights and days, but only the other soldiers marched away while we waited. After so much labor I found Iven’s stillness disturbing. Though his hands continued repairing a small tear in his coat, his face was calm and blank.
“Rest easy,” he said. “The wounded will be back soon enough. Then our work will begin again, and the work of others.”
I put on my mail and grabbed my spear. After all I was still a soldier in the imperial army, though I didn’t feel like much of a soldier and Iven laughed as he saw me. “You’ve done fair work with the shirt Scratch, though you’ll not need it today.”
“Where is the battle?” I asked.
“Why would you be asking about that trifle?” responded Iven. “You’ve no need for battles.”
“Just curious.”
“You’ll not be going near it Scratch, not if I can help it.” The smith’s voice had taken on his usual tone of brute finality.
“I don’t want to see it,” I said truthfully. “I don’t even like fighting.” I think I wanted to know more where it was so that I could run away from it than to be able to get to it.
“Really?” asked Iven. “You’ve got a lot of hardware for a lad that’s not looking for a fight.”
“It was my father’s,” I answered. “Except for the mail, that was given to me when the village sent me away.”
“On second thought, perhaps you should see the battle,” said Iven with a queer glint in his eye. “Not close up, but close enough. Seeing men cut down may help you understand the foolishness of all this. There’s a spare pig-poker in the wagon, and a helmet. Hop to it then Scratch, the day’s not getting any longer!”
With spears in hand we climbed a hill just north of the camp. At the top we looked down into a small valley where the two armies had met. The great black hosts of the Kaarum crushed against a stalwart wall of defending spearmen at the center, and around the edges horsemen galloped, pressing the dark army in against the middle ranks. I found Lord Kelsin quickly. His great white horse and shining armor sparkled in the mid morning light. Wherever he rode the men rallied and more than once a shout of courage erupted in his trail. Before him enemies fell back. For the moment the imperial army held he upper hand. The battle raged back and forth, like a swirling mass of insects seeking furiously to destroy one another.
The seemingly endless hosts of Kaarum slowly began to take their toll on the soldiers. Though their claws and horns could not reach past the long spears and shields of the army, their sheer size and great numbers steadily created an advantage. Then, suddenly, like a thunderclap, a wave of fear surged across the valley, spreading panic on both sides. An enormous dark figure on a great black reptile descended onto the battlefield from a hill across the valley. The huge deformed lizard sported gnarled horns and white sharp fangs. Wherever it went men fled in terror. The rider, clothed in a sable cloak, and bearing a long lance with a sword slung across his back urged his troops to battle.
Now the battle turned quickly against the imperial forces. The Kaarum rallied around their leader who spread terror like a plague across the field. On the opposite side, Lord Kelsin also struggled to bring hope and order back to the battle. With his bodyguard he made a drive deep into the Kaarum lines, pushing them back. But to his folly Kelsin overextended, and enemies cut down his rearguard. Stranded in the midst of his enemies, he struggled to return to safety. Before he could find a way out, the enemy warlord sped forth his troops, and I hid my face as they carried Kelsin from his horse and he became lost beneath the dark mass of fighting.
The battle turned into a route. Soldiers and officers alike fell back beneath a wave of panic. Without regard or sense of direction men turned and ran for any perceived safety. The flight of the soldiers was speedy but disorganized. The Kaarum crowded them together on their flanks, spreading confusion and disorder among the inner ranks.
Then it happened. A rumble like a thousand rushing waterfalls rose suddenly. The ground beneath the feet of the Kaarum began to erupt in violent explosions, creating massive sinkholes and throwing howling beast-men into the air. The entire length of the valley began to boil with the noise of a thousand thunderstorms as the earth hurled boulders into the air and they slammed back down again. Everywhere open pits sucked the Kaarum into the ground or explosions tossed them into the sky or crushed them beneath falling stones. The ground trembled. I fell to my knees. Soldiers lost their footing and many were sucked down with the violence and crushed with the Kaarum. Panic swept over the valley carrying with it all remnants of sanity. Men cut one another down just to be the first to escape the noise. Peasants pulled nobles from their horses. Even Iven tripped and fell eventually.
Of the many horrible memories I have, this is one of the most potent. I vomited endlessly. My loathing for violence redoubled. That experience transfixed in my mind forever the desire to keep armies apart.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Eleven
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Nine
Posted by admin on November 24, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
Once the young son of the lord of a small holding required his sword be sharpened. He brashly approached Iven and demanded, “My sword needs work, see to it.”
“Put it with that lot,” Iven grunted. “It will get its turn with the others.”
The noble had not heard of Iven, and had not learned his manners, and replied, “Perhaps you do not understand. I require it immediately.”
“Perhaps, you are deaf, blind and stupid,” said Iven. His tone was matter of fact.
“You are mistaken.”
“No mistake. It is obvious that I gave you instructions, obvious there is a great deal of work to be done, and obvious you cannot reach the conclusion that you will have to wait your turn. If you can’t see the obvious, you must be blind. My wage is the same no matter whose blade gets done first.”
In that moment I discovered that Iven actually knew how to fight, though I saw it seldom enough. That noble drew his dull sword and threatened my master. Iven brushed the sword aside with his hammer with one swift, masterful stroke, and grasped the man in his great arms. Then he lifted him like a child and tossed him head over heels.
On it went, Scratch this and Scratch that until blisters had broken through my calluses and every bone ached to move. Then finally, mercifully we received the order to move out. At least I believed it was mercy that let me stay in a wagon all day. After all, we couldn’t very well build a fire.
Crack! For the hundredth time Iven’s leather thong snapped across my knuckles. There is more to armor and weapons than simply beating metal as I discovered. Even without furnace and fire we had plenty of work. Hardened leather breastplates needed repair or needed fastening together. At home my mother quilted to keep us warm in winter. Now I quilted thick padding, carefully stitching tight seams. Often recruits brought pieces of old armor which needed repair. Tools needed cleaning. And again crack! Iven could spot the tiniest flaw with my work and he disliked shoddy craftsmanship. “Do it right, Scratch. Lives depend on it,” he bellowed again.
When we reached the main camp I hoped for liberation and a reprieve from the constant work. A pair of familiar faces greeted me as we unpacked the wagon with Iven’s tools. Lyekal waited with a sword I had seen hanging over their mantle in Dunston. Behind him Wess leaned against a long spear, watching the swirl of recruits.
“Ho, Colter,” called Lyekal. “I see you haven’t managed to escape the forge. That’s not a job I would return to for all the money in the empire.”
“You best not let Iven hear that,” I replied. I cast a look in my master’s direction, hoping he would not be cross for me pausing to talk to my friends. “I see your father finally let you come.”
“We heard the council said you were of age,” replied Lyekal. “After that there was nothing they could do. Both Wess and I are older than you, and Wess has been on his own since last winter anyway.”
“I though you were going to farm, Wess,” I said.
He looked at me for the first time, and I saw the frown in his eyes. “I couldn’t pay Trakkin’s rent.”
“He’s a hard man,” I agreed.
“First time in four summers the place looked to have a good harvest and he turned us out. My sister went with a merchant traveling west. He paid Trakkin the rent in exchange for her services. I either joined up or became Trakkin’s slave.”
Two markets of marching did nothing to lighten my master’s disposition. “I’ve told you a thousand times, every chink, Scratch! Is that armor you would wear into battle with a thousand angry beasts trying to kill you?”
I had learned by then that his ranting was mostly rhetorical, and largely for his own amusement. In truth he was much softer than he let on, for though he cracked my fingers and let on when I made a mistake, he never did whip me as he warned. When we made camp north of Havensod he gave me a full night of rest and said, “Use the sleep, lad, for tomorrow the real work begins. The lads will begin dying soon!”
True to his word, the real work began in earnest. We joined the main camp where thousands of soldiers waited and trained to battle the Kaarum. Our small force suddenly became a large bustling, noisy clash of shouts and drills. Many of the recruits had never held a weapon before, and of those who knew something of fighting, only a very few had ever seen a Kaarum. For me my drillmaster was the forge and my weapon the bellows. “Hotter!” yelled Iven. “Hotter and higher!”
Though the new furnace was a little more to Iven’s liking, and he now had a half dozen experienced apprentices, I still had no time for rest. I labored along with the others, churning out lengths of wire, or casting bronze blades. We filled canvas bags with rings cut for mail. The grindstone sent a constant shower of sparks. I learned the art of turning a spear shaft on the large machine powered by driven oxen. Iven finished each piece personally. Into each long shirt he beat his particular mark, four brass rings, each inscribed with the names of his sons.
The moment we finished a blade a soldier snatched it. We made spears for the footmen, swords for officers, and lances for cavalry. I quickly decided I could live perfectly happy never seeing another weapon again, and that spear poles would better serve as bean trellises. Swords had no use whatsoever beyond decorating the mantle, and they were ugly enough at that. Iven showed me a secret that few armor smiths understood.
“After the mail is done, we bake thus, in hot coals and peat. Then it gets a bath in vinegar. This will make it harder and yet tougher. It is a trick I learned at home which I’ve not seen another do. With time and tools I could show you how to make such beautiful breastplates of blue and gold as to cause even that pimple Kelsin to blush. I’ve done work for the emperor himself, and all the great lords. You’ll notice that Kelsin’s armor doesn’t fit him quite right. That piece I made for his father, and his pride won’t let me alter it. The weight of it will throw him off in battle. Mark my words. Before they finish spilling blood he’ll wish for my hammer.”
Often the most difficult part of soldiering is the dread of waiting for danger that may come at any moment. The hours pass slowly when there is little to do but drill and watch the horizon for enemies. Iven had little patience for those whose hands remained idle. Most of the soldiers had no motivation to do anything beyond follow directions. “Look at that lazy lot, Scratch. They wouldn’t know a day’s work if it hit ‘em with a hammer.” I’m certain he meant for it to be his hammer, though gratefully there were no more interruptions by uncouth young nobles.
Though Iven never scolded me for talking with Lyekal or Wess so long as my work didn’t slacken, I knew he disapproved of the smith’s son. Both of them practiced hard, but even my untrained eye could tell that they hadn’t the time to achieve the skill of a true battle. Lyekal never tired of hoping for glory.
Within a five market, virtually every scrap of metal in the region had been accounted for. The work began to slow, and once more I found myself sleeping long enough to do more than drone through another day. I had learned to take pride in my work by then. I gained satisfaction looking at something I made with my own two hands being carried about and used by someone else.
“You’ve done well by me Scratch, now let’s see about that shirt of yours, and bring that pig poker with you too.”
I can still feel the excitement of working on my own armor for the first time. In later winters it became more drudgery than anything, until finally it was simply a routine that happened everyday. My weapons were already excellent and needed no work beyond the time to sharpen and polish them properly.
“Not much work to be done with it,” said the smith with a frown as he held up the mail. “Pretty shoddy work if you ask me. It’s not even been welded together. But it should at least fit you proper. Stand straight and let me get a measure.” He took my measurements and then watched as I started the pattern. Of course I had already been through it a dozen times, so there was really little left to learn. He surveyed the blade on the spear and took a moment to grind a small dent.
“Once you’ve got the pattern together, I’ll show you how to do the welds. Now sharpen it up Scratch, and work on those chinks. I don’t suppose you’ll ever need ‘em, but it’s worth having just the same.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Ten
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Posted by admin on November 17, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
In the morning our portion of the army marched north to join the main army commanded by lord Kelsin. A few days south of Havensod recruiters ran out to gather in those hapless souls who would rather face certain death with the possibility of food than certain starvation. I learned a great deal in those few days from Daven, who tended my wounds and kept me company while I watched the army gather.
“This ragtag lot will need all the help of Tylos,” said Daven as we marched along.
“Don’t you think our army is strong enough?” I asked.
“Drunroust, the imperial regent, has failed to maintain the army here in the east. Anybody can slip through the borders these days,” he said.
“What will happen when we find the Kaarum?” I asked.
“Only Tylos knows that, but I’m sure it won’t be pretty,” he replied. “Three passes lead out of the Northern Crown, one near Darnuth Keep, one near Dynwater, and one in a small gap where the Shadowspine Mountains split from the Northern Crown. The Kaarum pour out in massive hordes every few winters through one of these openings and if they escape unchecked they ravage across thousands of kilometers in the empire pillaging all they find. The Eastern Watch, as the regent calls his army, has orders to ambush and contain any attempt at the Shadowspine pass.”
“How many of them are there?” I asked.
“I don’t know, lad,” he answered. “I’ve never fought the Kaarum before, though my father did. Usually they have very large armies. We will march north to Havensod, and join another army before continuing north until we find the Kaarum.”
My days of rest were short lived. Lord Kelsin rode into camp at a thunderous charge. He was a tall, young man who reflected the image of knighthood. He kept his breastplate polished brightly, and rode a white stallion that tolerated nothing from other horses. To my surprise he came directly to Daven’s tent, but rather than speak to the priest he questioned me. Torbridge escorted the priest out of the tent.
“I understand you saw Kaarum as far south and west as the village of Dunston,” he said.
“I killed one at our farm near there,” I replied.
“Kyven Halfspear was your father?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why did you join the army? Who sent you?”
“The village council decided,” I said. “I’m not sure why.” I couldn’t admit that nobody wanted me at home anymore, and I didn’t really want to talk about my father. My answers seemed to satisfy him, though he said little and I couldn’t tell exactly what he thought or felt.
Lord Kelsin left the camp as quickly as he had appeared. Anyone who could, watched him exit the officer’s tent and then gallop away north. Then Torbridge found me and told me, “You’ve been given a new assignment, specifically by Lord Kelsin.”
Daven watched as I followed Torbridge to a wagon that smelled of soot and sweat, apart from the rest of the camp. I wanted to ask what was going on, but decided to be quiet. The captain had little patience and much on his mind.
“Remember what I’ve told you. Keep out of trouble. Iven will teach you a trade if you do as he says. I’ve no time to explain, and there are too many ears about. Be patient. Everything will become clear in a few markets,” he said.
I nodded though I didn’t really understand. He seemed genuinely concerned about me, though I felt something worried him.
An enormous man with dark tan skin and a round bald head worked rhythmically beating a piece of iron on an anvil. He had more bulk and more muscle than any other man I have met. I had no doubt he could crush my bones with one hand. He stood covered from head to toe in soot and grime, and the look on his face as we approached reminded me of my mother after Betta chipped another of her cups.
He scowled at Torbridge and scowled at me and growled in a voice like a bear. “Is that the best you can do Torbridge?”
“It’s the best I’ve got and the best you’ll get. Now mind your manners. He’s been wounded and is under lord Kelsin’s protection.”
“Kelsin’s pet are you?” he asked me as Torbridge left. I felt in that moment that I had been trapped in a pit with a hungry dragon to be toyed with until he decided to consume me. “Scratched up by the Kaarum?”
I showed him my scars. I opened my mouth to talk, but his scowl cut me short again.
“Scratched or not, pet or not, if you’re lazy I’ll whip you red.” He saw that I understood. Torbridge rarely took the time to understand the soldiers in camp, and if he had he probably never would have left me with Iven. The blacksmith harbored no love for anyone born into a title and even less for a man unwilling to work the day through. To him Kelsin was both. Fortunately for me, I was neither. “Stow that lot in the wagon, Scratch,” he said, indicating my weapons. “Then take off that ridiculous shirt. We’ll fight no fights here, not on my watch. You can be a prancing pony for the mighty lord another day. Hop to lad! Get your rubbish into the wagon, and mind you don’t touch my tools!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin in my scramble to please him. At every turn I found something new to be done. A war is a prosperous time for an armor smith, even for a blacksmith who can sharpen swords. For a master like Iven, it is simply demanding.
I knew the use of some tools already. Before he died my father kept a busy shop at the farm. Only for a difficult job would he seek the help of the smith, and I aided him at every task. I had never known the drone and ache of hard repetitive labor, and Iven’s introduction was hard and fast.
“I know you can fetch and carry, Scratch, but I need more than just a pair of hands just now. I need your back and your mind as well. In a few days we’ll move the war north, and without the proper tools we’ll need more time than we’re given.”
He had a small furnace suitable for turning small blooms of iron which he taught me to load with the raw metal. I fetched the coal and worked the bellows until the fire was just the right temperature. He carefully beat the iron blooms into thin plates, which we cut into wire suitable for pulling through plates prepared with small holes for the purpose.
His mastery of the hammer amazed me. He allowed me to try my luck, and I quickly learned that time and the weight of the hammer were my enemy. I sweated and ached at each day’s end.
“Put your back into it Scratch,” he bellowed. “It’s the fire what’ll end the war, not the metal. Even filthy beasts can dig it up, Scratch. Anyone can dig. But can they melt it, cure it, purify it and beat it into something useful? I can do that much Scratch, but only if you give me that blasted fire.”
I pumped as hard as I could, but his words rang a constant melody. “By Tylos, Scratch, don’t you know the fire needs air. Blast it! Pump boy, pump.”
When the fire wasn’t burning I found myself busy at a dozen different tasks. Without the right tools we were unable to pull the wires properly and Iven eventually gave up and pounded each one by hand. I wound the wire around rods and cut the rings for making mail. I was no stranger to work. I had worked many summers on the farm, but there is a difference when you have a hot meal and someone to talk to when you come in from the field. After endless hours at the grindstone nothing waited for me but Iven and more chores. Fatigue and sore limbs were my constant companions.
“At home I’ve the tools for making fine wire,” said Iven. “Though the work is hard it goes much faster and the line doesn’t break nearly as often. Here I’ve no proper furnace. No real tools. Hardly the means to harden steal for a proper blade. No man should be made to work in such conditions. If ever I get my hands around Kelsin’s neck he’ll never start another war unprepared.”
But as hard as I labored Iven drove himself harder. I blazed the fire, but his hammer beat a constant rhythm that could be heard throughout the camp. No one approached his wagon unbidden because there is a certain respect that can only be earned by truly being the master of one’s domain. The size of the holding does not matter, but the sure knowledge that you are truly its master means that others simply know. Even Torbridge treated the smith with respect. Most of the other soldiers simply feared him.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Nine
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Posted by admin on November 10, 2008
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
Even summer rain can be cold and miserable, especially if you are caught in it afoot and in the dark. My companions trudged in silence once the sun began to set, and I caught more than one envious look from my perch on the horse.
“Perhaps the hero would lend us a ride on the pony,” said the darkunder as the rain dripped from his nose.
“If you gambled less you could have a mount of your own,” said Jarkin.
“My mother told me the same thing once,” replied Harry.
“A wise woman for sure. You would have done better to leave your spear and stay closer to home,” said the farmer.
A sudden noise startled my horse in the fading light. I had just enough time to guide my horse out of the way as something leapt out of the shadows. “To arms! To arms!” I heard someone calling. I managed to pull out the spear and turn my horse. I wasn’t sure what had attacked us until I charged. The distinct and awful smell of the Kaarum hit me full force. They say that smells can remind you of so many different things. They can take you back to a place of your childhood or give you the same feeling you had on your wedding day. The smell of vomit always reminds me of that moment, when I first charged down a Kaarum in the rain. Naturally I fouled the attack, but not as horribly as one might suppose. I had been riding since before I could walk, so fighting from the back of a horse felt almost like play. I hadn’t counted on the weight of the beast, or the power of my horse. I skewered it thoroughly enough, but then forgot to let go of the spear, and it was a simple matter of leverage. In an instant I found myself sprawled in the mud.
I looked up in time to see one of my companions cut down by the horns of a Kaarum. I tried to turn my head, but froze in place, transfixed by the moment. The first time you see death, if you ever see it, is something you never forget. A sharp bull’s horn ripped through his throat and sent him gurgling and choking into the mud. I struggled to my feet and retrieved my spear. The creature snarled at me, and the scents and sounds of battle rushed through my brain like a tidal wave. I screamed and charged, lost to the rushing energy of the battle. The Kaarum turned and lashed at me with its claws. Though I had no real skill with the spear, Tylos protected me. The Kaarum overextended its stance in the mud, putting it off balance. The claws reached my arms, but then it slipped and I stabbed it without difficulty.
There were only two Kaarum left then and five of us. They didn’t have sense or knowledge of how to surrender, and Torbridge had no intention of taking prisoners. Naturally they panicked. Harry and Jarkin were at least experienced, if not professional soldiers and Torbridge handled his blade expertly.
“Are you hurt, boy?” Torbridge wasted no time getting to the point after the battle.
“He cut my chest, sir,” I replied, my breath short and painful.
“Break out a light,” ordered the captain. “Come here, boy. Let’s see what happened. And you. Where are you hurt?” he barked at Jarkin.
“My arm, sir,” replied the farmer. “I fumbled the rotted spear. It’s been too long, sir.”
The captain chuckled a little in his grim way. “You’ll get plenty of practice soon enough. I’m glad you at least knew how to hold the blasted thing. Take off your shirt, boy, let’s see the damage.”
“You ride well,” commented the corporal. I believe that was the only thing he ever said to me. I never saw him after the battle of Havensod.
“I can ride,” I replied. “I lost my spear.”
“A sword is a better weapon,” commented Harry, with a smirk. “You’ve a nice blade. You should have used it.”
I admit I would have risen to Harry’s bait that time. I was ready to attack him. I hate killing. I hate spears and swords and everything they do to men, even then I hated it, but I hate feeling useless even more. I at least wanted to be able to say I didn’t need to use it, not that I couldn’t.
Torbridge intervened. “The boy’s alive,” he said. “He took down two. You’re a grown man, Darkunder, and this is not the first battle you’ve faced. You killed one, and his charge saved your skin. You owe the boy your life if you value it.”
I think Torbridge actually may have had a soft spot somewhere in his battle-scarred heart. He tended my wounds with efficient hands. What the bandage lacked in beauty it made up for with comfort.
“You should have worn your mail shirt,” he advised me. “And you should let go of the spear when you skewer it like that or you will be pulled down every time.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “I’ll try to remember.”
“Don’t try,” said the captain sternly. “Either do it or next time you will die.” Some of the soundest advice I received from anyone of a military persuasion. “There is no room for error in battle. I fought the Kaarum in the north and trailed them to the west. I’ve seen many good men who were careless for only an instant cut down.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He glanced around, and spoke so that only I could hear. “I didn’t know your father, but I know he didn’t allow mistakes in battle. Your life is more important than you know so be careful what you do with it. Stay out of the way until you learn to handle that spear properly. You’re no good to anyone dead.”
The darkunder watched the conversation closely, but said nothing to me about it. If anyone else cared they said nothing. The reality of death and loss sapped the spirit from everyone.
We gathered the human dead and tied each one behind a saddle. I didn’t like the idea of walking through the mud so that a corpse could get a ride, but I knew better than to argue. Harry changed his own worn boots for a slightly better pair that one of the dead men had worn. We dragged the bodies of the Kaarum into the woods away from the road and piled them on top of each other. I put on my mail shirt while the others tried to clear away the mess of the battle.
We rode into camp about two hours after sundown. The sentries slouched in the rain and barely offered a protest as we passed. A few dozen soldiers slept in shabby tents or crouched in shelters hastily built from the forest. I saw only a few other horses and a team of oxen near some wagons.
“You’ve come in late,” said one of the sentries. “We expected you earlier.”
Torbridge ignored the man and rode ahead. Harry whispered, “Kaarum.” The soldier stiffened in response, but didn’t ask any more questions.
“You two take the dead over there.” Torbridge pointed at a wagon at the south end of camp. “Daven will look after them. We can bury them in the morning.” Harry and Jarkin dragged them off and Torbridge turned to me. “Daven’s tent is over here, follow me. You’re to stay with him. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Torbridge parted the flap to Daven’s tent without asking or waiting. A stout man with graying hair and a clean shaved face rested on a cot. He looked up as we entered and waited patiently for Torbridge to explain himself. “We brought some dead,” said the captain. “The boy’s been hurt. I want you to look after him for a few days. He can help you with whatever you need.” Torbridge parted the tent and left without another word.
“Come here, boy,” said Daven. “I suppose you have a name, though doubtless Torbridge has forgotten it if he ever listened in the first place.”
“Colter Halfspear,” I replied with a yawn. I rubbed my eyes, and the movement sent a spike of pain across my chest. I winced instinctively.
Daven looked at me closely. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t forget that name. Very well, let’s have a look at your wounds.”
Reluctantly I pulled my shirt off. Blood had seeped through the bandages, but I felt more tired than hurt.
“At least the man knows how to dress a wound,” said Daven. “I am a priest of Tylos, in case you haven’t guessed. I know you country folk see us seldom enough. I am going to offer a prayer of healing. Then you can rest while I see to the dead.”
He softly chanted, so low that I could not make out the words as he gently removed the bandages. He passed his fingers a hair’s breadth from my wounds, and as he did a tingling itch erased the Kaarum scratches. My flesh repaired itself beneath his hands, and the smell of indistinct flowers replaced that of blood and sweat. I felt both rested and healed.
“Remarkable,” said Daven. “Tylos must have something very special for you. In time I hope you find it.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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