Posted by admin on June 29, 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.
The following day proved tiresome and cumbersome for me in too many ways. Pascalli accompanied me through the city to gate at the highest level. The lowest level of the city spans a great semi-circle out from the mountain with the back wall running straight as an arrow and cutting deep into the mountainside. A wide highway opens from the main gate and takes a straight course up, through six wide tall gates to reach the palace proper. At each level a terrace is cut into the mountain and a wall holds back the earth and gives a place for troops to watch the city. The first four gates hung open wide. The gentle archways, unchanged by time, invited me in. The fifth gate, however, stood closed.
“That doesn’t look any different than the lower gates,” observed Dina.
“Of course not,” said Pascalli. “You didn’t expect it to be on fire, did you? I’ve not dared pass that portal yet, and that should be warning enough for both of you. The lower levels bear no malice, for they were homes for common folk who largely fled during the breaking. But the fifth level was home to many nobles. They swore by their lives and souls, in a sacred vow, that no unclean thing would dwell in their homes or disturb their rest. As a sworn enemy of this place once upon a time, I at least, will not be welcome until they are pacified.”
“And you expect me to make them happy,” I replied.
“I hope you can,” he said, though his tone did not reassure me.
“Exactly what am I to do?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” said Pascalli. “I have a number of guesses, but I think you would be better off asking them than me. There is no magic sealing the gate, but you can’t open it from the outside. Take a rope and hook. I brought it for a purpose. You will end up scaling the wall I’m sure. Now off you go.”
Scaling the wall proved immensely difficult. There are no footholds in the polished stone and only a very few places where a steel hook has any hope of catching. After nearly an hour of trying to lock the hook in place, my arms and back ached. Finally it caught but I no longer had the energy to pull myself up using only my arms. I sat to rest and chew on a piece of dried meat. From somewhere inside I thought I heard dull laughter.
After a long rest I scrambled up the rope. I pulled the rope up behind me thinking to find a more secure place to tie it off. For a few minutes I wandered the top of the wall, looking for such a place but to no avail. Then I realized all I needed to do was push open the gates. From the inside, the inner city walls were really nothing more than a high stone fence reaching to about my chest. From the outside, below they appeared to be both tall and thick because of the earth packed behind. I followed the wall and found the guardhouse near the tunnel that led to the gate.
My hand had reached to pull the lever when I spotted a movement from the corner of my eye through the guardhouse window. I turned to look but could see nothing. Instantly my bow was at the ready. I had cover from the guardhouse but only a limited view. I could not cover both the window and the door while simultaneously attempting to manage the lever. I decided to deal with whatever was out there before trying my luck with the gate.
Stalking a large animal through a dense mountain forest has both advantages and disadvantages. I had become familiar after living off the land so much with how to be patient and how to use cover. I noted the direction of the wind, and generally kept my eyes open. Here in this desolate city, with no trees, only windswept stones and sunlight, I discovered a new sense of dread. After emerging from the guardhouse I immediately felt exposed. Whatever was out there could see me, though I saw nothing.
I paused to listen. Nothing. I crossed the street where I could keep my back to the wall of a tall house. I glanced up briefly to see dark vacant windows staring like ancient faces down at me. Again something moved. But I heard nothing. It moved very fast. I thought it was white, perhaps the edge of a robe or dress.
I crept along the edge of the wall slowly and silently, watching both where I had been and where I was going. I reached a point where I could clearly see the corner of the building opposite me where the movement had been. I crossed the street and crept slowly to that corner. I was not surprised to find nothing but an empty alley. Whatever it was left no tracks, no sound, and no signs of any kind. I dismissed all of this without thought for I also moved without much sound and I had been careful to leave no tracks, though it appeared that I moved considerably slower.
Whatever it was had only one way to go so I entered the alley and quietly picked my way to the end. Again I saw nothing at first, but while studying the area my eye caught motion once more. I played this game over and over throughout the morning until I knew well the lay of much of the inner circle. My prey had taken me from the wall up to the palace gates and back again until I found myself just outside a temple to Tylos.
Tired, thirsty and hot from my long work I decided to give the chase a rest. I tried the main door to the temple and found that the seasoned wood and iron opened as easily as if the hinges had been oiled and mended that morning. I found a cool, shady corner and sipped water quietly. I bit off a piece of meat and chewed it thoughtfully, planning my next move. Whatever else might be out there I had not accomplished my goal. I had neither discovered nor discussed my desires with this citadel’s former occupants. The gate remained closed.
Quite suddenly the temple door slammed shut as a great gust of wind rushed past on the street. Again the low laughter I thought I had heard before teased my ears, but this time much clearer, though still distant as if from within a vault.
At first I thought to open the door again and continue my earlier chase, or at least return to the gate and try the lever. When I stood up I felt differently. I had never been inside a real temple to Tylos before and I felt compelled to offer Her some prayer or oblation before leaving. I did not know the proper ceremony, but I managed to find the offering pit at the top of a small dais. Sunlight poured in through a high opening in the domed top. I found a small pile of cedar left stacked from centuries before and lit it in the pit. All I had with me were a few herbs for cooking and a bit of dried meat. I put them on the fire and then knelt. Raising my hands and staring into the sky, I offered a prayer to my goddess.
“Who are you to bring sacrifices to this house of holiness,” asked a sinister voice from behind me. Hatred poured from the voice like acid. My blood ran chill. My bow lay beside me, out of reach. My spear waited back at camp. Even if I tried, I knew I would not have time to draw my father’s sword and bring it into play. Very slowly I stood up and turned around.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on June 22, 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.
Dina came out a few moments later, her hair still wet. I offered her some food, which she took silently. I knew that it was not in her nature to apologize, especially to a person of my class, but to me that did not excuse the resentful anger in her eyes. I could not conceal my own anger and rather than fumble my way through a conversation I did not want to have, or through silence too awkward to bear I went into the house and began skinning out the beast.
In the east we have several kinds of tigers, but the largest is smaller than the variety of black mountain cat I killed that day. That breed is not only larger, but generally more aggressive and very dangerous to hunt. With the absence of humans for so long they had begun to range all across the Hansfor valley. The hide made a surprisingly thick and warm coat, and the meat turned out to be both tasty and plentiful.
I was still hungry so I cut some steaks and added them to our meal. Dina immediately showed her disgust.
“We do not eat beasts of prey,” she said.
“Then it’s going to be a long and hard winter for you.” The voice was not mine, but Pascalli’s. “I see that we had one visitor tonight. I had rather hoped for more, but we take what Tylos gives.”
“You mean you used me for bait?” said Dina indignantly.
“No, child,” said Pascalli. “I simply let you have your way. If you do not like the consequences of thinking and acting for yourself then perhaps you should heed the advice of someone more experienced than yourself. Mind, Scratch, don’t burn those steaks. I feel as if I could eat a horse.”
“And you may have to,” I chided. “If we don’t find safe pasture for them.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you,” said Pascalli. “This city is not all stone. There are wonderful pastures on the upper levels.”
“Are they safe,” I asked. Dina had retreated into the house again to get another blanket.
“Much safer for the horses, but perhaps less safe for us. Tomorrow we will go up and find a place for a more permanent camp.”
“One with a proper roof,” I hope, said Dina as she rejoined us.
“A perfect mansion,” said Pascalli. I expected his usual wink, but his face was serious. “There are several up there, and you may choose any you like, though you may have to ask permission of the current occupants.”
“Do people still dwell here, then?” she asked.
“People, my dear?” replied Pascalli. “Certainly not. At least not in the way you and I think of them.”
“I am not afraid,” said Dina. “I will fight when the time comes.”
“The time has already come,” said Pascalli. “I know you can use that stick of yours, but it will be useless against those who dwell in the noble houses of Darnuth Keep. You cannot hope to take residence there by fighting.”
“Then how?” she pleaded.
“By following and trusting,” he answered.
I know that she did not like his answer. Few people could truly appreciate Pascalli’s way of avoiding a question. “I’ll follow you,” said Dina. “So far you’ve not shown me the glory I want. I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“Oh, ho,” laughed Pascalli. “Not to worry, not to worry at all.” Now his eyes took on the devilish gleam that meant he had her trapped. “You see, you’ve neither to follow or trust me one bit, for I’ve not the ability to set one foot along the path we tread without help.”
“What? Then who? What are you talking about?” she seemed both scared and confused, and I admit that by now I was just as confused though I knew better than to voice my opinion.
“Scratch, my boy, you’ll take good care of us, won’t you,” said Pascalli. I half expected to hear his familiar laugh, but somehow I knew in my heart it was true. “I’m relying on you in the morning to start what your father never came to start, and in return I’ll see you finish it alive or I’ll die trying.”
Though I had experienced many wonders, frights and even battles, there is no greater adventure than having the life and trust of another person placed in your hands, especially when it is the life of a person you love and respect as deeply as I did that old wizard.
Dina’s face sank instantly.
“Dina, you and I will keep watch tonight,” said Pascalli. “Scratch is short of rest and will need his strength.”
“Opening a gate can’t be that difficult,” said Dina.
“I can keep my watch,” I protested.
“Of course you can, lad, but tonight there is no need,” he said. “No more arguments from either of you. There is more to entering the upper circle than just opening the gate. Just leave a knife, Scratch, so I can start scraping that hide and go inside. Now Dina, I don’t know that you’ve ever scraped a hide before so come here and lend me a hand. I know that the Taradurks keep a master tanner, but here we will make do ourselves with what we have.” I fell asleep to the cracking of the fire and the gentle muttering of Dina complaining beneath her breath.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Ten
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Posted by admin on May 25, 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.
Midsummer’s day of the eighth winter after Kyven Halfspear’s victory under Narnal marked my first midsummer away from home while I was still under the tutelage of Captain Torbridge. Two winters later I had managed to stay alive long enough to write another letter home. Though I didn’t expect the letter to arrive, I sent it east with a grain merchant traveling to Anascrag. Though I had certainly added length to my legs and outgrown the clothes my mother sent me away in, even I could see the real growth had little to do with size.
My arms and back became strong under the daily strain of work and practice. I knew how to read strangers and the value of holding my tongue. I could read a trail and trusted myself in any circumstance. In spite of all the changes I still often wondered about my father, and about the curse he left me. We had few chances to find books along the way, but Pascalli encouraged me to read anything we found, and listen to the stories told by locals.
“How long has it been since you came through Last Gate?” I asked Pascalli the night before we reached the gate.
He winked at me before lifting his eyes and staring off into the horizon. “I come this way now and again to check the pass, though never through the gate. You will be the first to come with me since the breaking.”
“Didn’t my father ever come this way?” I asked, surprised.
“No, Scratch.” He said, very simply. “His business would have brought him here eventually, but he left the path before that.”
I understood.
Dina was not with us that final night. She went ahead with the wagon to make preparations at the guard post. I imagine that she wanted to spend at least one night in the comfort of a bed, but I am sure she also knew that I at least would want to have some time alone to sit and think. Dina did not speak to me much, not until we reached Darnuth Keep, and when she did she had taken to calling me Scratch, just as Pascalli did. Some part of her could not let go of the fact that I had been raised a farmer.
“Who was the demon my father slew?” I asked Pascalli quite suddenly enough to startle myself.
“You’ve heard the tales,” replied Pascalli. “Surely you know the story by heart.”
“I want to hear it from you,” I said firmly. “You know the truth, and I feel that you owe it to me.”
“I owe you nothing,” replied Pascalli in a sharp tone that sent a shiver through my spine. He was not angry. After a pause he smiled and set me at ease.
“I will give you freely what you ask. I think it may help you.”
“As you well know there are a number of deities, each struggling for power over our world. But they are bound by the will of mortals to choose for themselves their destiny. Though they may tempt us, we ultimately have power over ourselves. Some servants of the dark deities have tempted mortals to invite them into this realm to wreak havoc in return for greater power. One such demon was invited here by a powerful Kaarum shaman who made a pact with this demon lord.”
“At first we thought it was just another incursion of Kaarum coming down from the north. As usual I headed them off, and sealed the pass, but they broke through and the empire had to raise an army in great haste. Your father was recruited in much the same way that you were. He was literally begging for food when they came looking for conscripts and he just came along.”
“I did not actually meet your father until much later in his career. He was very astute, and very skilled at the art of war. By surviving long enough he rose through the ranks until he commanded a small company. About that time I finally managed to discover the presence of an unnatural force, though I could not tell what was behind it. At Narnal’s direction I gathered volunteers. Your father was the first to offer his spear.”
“I led them over the Northern Crown, and into the land of the Kaarum. He brought us out again, by his wits and cunning and sheer force of will. At every step we were hounded. I was not prepared to face a demon and it forced me to flee. The first time in so many hundred winters Pascalli fled a battle. I think that Tylos visited him during that time of our separation and told him of the spear of Udelf and of its power over the demon. I cannot tell you of your father’s adventures to retrieve the spear because he went alone and he returned alone. When he returned he no longer needed armies to fight his battle. He no longer needed me. Indeed his power far surpassed my own.”
“The war fared poorly for the empire. Many thousands of Kaarum had gathered along the wall north of Anascrag. There he came and began destroying them. Then, in the middle of the commotion a great blackness appeared. The demon rolled out its weapons of darkness only to be repelled by your father’s courage and light. Men and beast fell on both sides from the shock. Finally he thrust the demon down and broke its link to our world.”
“Your father did not speak for many days after that. He never told me what he felt or endured. The spear of Udelf had lost its power. It is the weapon you now bear, now no more than a bit of metal on the end of a pole. He went home, although I believe only I knew where his home was.”
I realized as he spoke that I was crying. So many questions still fluttered in my mind. Suddenly I felt very much like a child and I chided myself. Now I should be a man.
“You haven’t told me why killing the demon wasn’t enough to satisfy Tylos,” I said.
“That is because I don’t know,” answered Pascalli.
Confusion rocked my senses. Pascalli knew everything. He knew the names of little children he could not possibly have ever met before. He knew how long rocks had sat undisturbed in lonely mountain passes and when the last rabbit crossed a given path or when it was likely to return again.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked.
“Just that. I can only guess. I did not become aware of the curse Kyven endured until well after he returned to the imperial service. Only then, winters later, did he confide in me, and it was I who told the village council at Dunston after he refused.” He caught the fire in my eyes and cut me short. “Do not be angry with me. I tried to save him from himself, and I have done my best to save you as well. Judge me later, when you’ve learned enough to judge me properly. I’m not a saintly man, but at least I know my purpose and I haven’t yet wavered from it.”
“Well, if you don’t know, can’t you at least guess?” I asked.
“Anyone can guess,” he said. “In this situation guessing wrong could mean throwing this world into darkness.”
“But you’ve already guessed, haven’t you,” I mocked.
“Yes I have,” he said sharply. “You are going to prove me right or wrong, and I hope before it is too late.” He waited for me to ask the obvious question but I did not give him the satisfaction. “Very well, my guess is that somehow one of the other gods has managed to allow magic to be controlled again in this world and Tylos wants it remedied.”
“But how can that be true?” I said incredulously. “If magic could be controlled again, then you should be able to do any sort of miracle, shouldn’t you?”
“We are talking about guesses, aren’t we?” he scoffed. “Of course the way we learned may not be the same way that magic is controlled today. Tylos may still hold enough power to keep mine from returning. I don’t fully understand the extent of Tylos’ curse on me. Take the priests of Tylos, for example, their ability to heal wounds is clearly magic, but it nothing of the sort that I understand. Their power comes directly from Tylos. They have no power to actually do any healing. It is entirely up to our Lady.”
“I thought it was just automatic,” I replied. “I was healed back near Havensod.”
“Yes, I heard about that,” said Pascalli. “Quite remarkable actually. Most of us are not healed automatically, and then it is usually just enough to keep one from dying. Your experience was unusual to say the least. Either way, there was no control present.”
“Oh, well, yeah,” I said. “Well how did you used to control it, in the old days I mean? If I wanted to make a pig fly, for example, what would I have to do?”
“You mean short of building a catapult?” laughed Pascalli. I laughed with him, and our hearts grew suddenly lighter. “Come with me. Now look over here, you see this leaf.” He held up a broad oak leaf, clearly dead. “Now try to do as I say, although I don’t expect any results as I have already tried it myself a thousand times since I first came on this theory and it didn’t work. Look at the leaf, concentrate on its shape, form, color, smell, texture.” He waited for me to concentrate, which I did as hard as I possibly could. I tried to take in every aspect of the leaf, although I must admit it very quickly grew tedious. He set the leaf on the ground. “Now concentrate on the air around the leaf, how does it move, how does it taste, smell, sound.” I did as he asked. I tried to remember each time I had ever walked through a forest, every time I had played with a fallen leaf or tossed an acorn aside. “Now, listen for the voice of the leaf and the voice of the air, like a murmured whisper in a language you do not understand coming from far across the mountains. Do you hear it?”
I listened for a moment and had opened my mouth to say “No,” when I caught a faint something, like the wind blowing through the boughs of a great tree, but it was coming from nowhere. I knew it came from the leaf. “Yes,” I said.
I did not see Pascalli’s reaction. I had not broken my concentration. The intensity of the leaf’s calling seemed to grow as I yearned to understand it. I bent my thoughts and will towards it. Pascalli’s voice quivered as he spoke. “Reach out with your mind and heart and ask the leaf to lift. Ask the air to push it.”
I asked, I concentrated, and suddenly the leaf began to hover a few centimeters off of the ground. My jaw dropped. My concentration shattered.
“I don’t believe it,” said Pascalli.
“Was that magic?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“It wasn’t a catapult,” he replied, his tone somber.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on May 18, 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.
I returned to the forge for the next few days while we waited for a new smith to arrive, half sulking, half worrying that everything would not be in order soon enough. During that time I scraped and cured the hides, which were covered in tough, but workable silver-gray scales. Dina left to take the message to Daturk-thrull and I did not expect her to return. Four days later she did return, leading a wagon carrying the apprentice to the smith of Daturk-thrull and his new bride and all their belongings. He was glad to find a shop ready and waiting. I reluctantly let him take his rightful work.
“We’ll be off then, bright and early,” said Pascalli to Tarkin when he saw the wagon. “Our work here is finished and we have tarried over-long I think.”
Tarkin was overjoyed at the success, so much so that he gave us a wagon and filled it with food, a new tent, extra blankets, anything we could ask for. Leaving that farm felt like leaving my own farm all over again. My heart nearly broke for I had come to love Tarkin as I loved Master Wilder, and the servants were like my friends from Dunston.
The next morning, as we left Dina rode up alongside the wagon. “Imperial guards will not harass you while I am with you,” she said. “I can make your trip go much faster I think, if you will consent.”
Although she spoke to Pascalli, she cast me a glance, and his eyes followed hers. “What do you think, Scratch, my lad, can you handle a finicky lass such as this?” I think her jaw must have broken it dropped so hard. I know I at least cracked a smile, though I probably laughed as Pascalli’s habit was wearing onto me.
“I’ve no doubt she’ll want no help from me, but she’s welcome in my camp,” I replied, meaning it.
“Good boy,” said Pascalli. We rode on, and Pascalli took his matter-of-fact tutor tone with Dina and for once I had a bit of a rest from the old man. “You’ll understand, my dear, that we have been traveling incognito for several winters now, so our names are generally not our own. The lad you can call Scratch, or whatever you deem appropriate”. He cast me a sidelong glance. I shrugged. “Me, you will call Pascalli, or Master.” She looked horror struck. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “Your father calls me Master Pascalli and I will take no less from his third daughter.”
“You know my father?” she asked incredulously.
“Of course, silly girl,” he laughed. “Why else would he call me Master? Either way I would thank you to not betray our presence here in this part of the empire until we are north of the wall and well into the wild. Are you planning on coming into the wild with us, my dear?”
“I, uh, I don’t know,” she stammered.
“I shall take that as a yes, for you have already shown that you intend to do this foolish thing. Very well, just don’t give out our real names and all will be well. After Darnuth Keep, assuming there is an after, you may do as you please.”
“Must I take orders from him?” she asked, her voice full of dread, indicating me.
“Must you?” laughed Pascalli. “I should certainly think not.” I rolled my eyes. “He is my charge, and I shall decide when it is time for him to give orders, which is rare enough and not yet with lives as important to our purposes as yours. You are your own spirit, child, free to do as you please. But I can say this much for Scratch. He’s a good lad and he won’t lead you astray which is more than I would say for nearly any other man you could find.”
“He’s not a man,” she grumbled.
“No, he’s not, and you are not a woman,” he replied. Her face burned red. I thought for a moment she would ride away, but she didn’t. “Stick with us and you will turn into one.” His voice was not a promise, but a warning.
The journey to Last Gate, as the village guarding the north gate into the wild is called, took some two markets, perhaps a day or two more. During this time Pascalli seemed driven to verify that I had learned anything in the last two winters. Although we kept up a maddening pace in his rush, each moment of it he prodded me to recount all he had taught, especially of the plants and creatures of the wild.
“We will be without civilization for a very long time,” he warned. “For much of that time you will be on your own, Scratch. Worse, you will be required to feed all of us, provide meat, especially fat, for the winter, and hides. You are responsible for the safety of Dina, or you will be when I am not around. We have much to do before the snows begin to fall, and now we will find out if you have been paying attention at all during our travels.”
“I can take care of myself, Pascalli,” said Dina. “I don’t need anyone watching me.”
Pascalli grinned, but he didn’t quite laugh. “Of course, but I will feel more comfortable knowing Scratch has learned at least something.”
Dina kept to herself when she was not busy navigating us along the road or rushing us through an imperial checkpoint. I finished her pair of boots by working under the stars or moon, and she accepted them with cautious gratitude, but I did not see her wear them. She spoke almost always to Pascalli, although I could tell there were a thousand questions burning behind her eyes. Pascalli continued to train me day after day with both sword and spear. Dina took little interest in my lessons.
“You can join us if you like, my dear,” offered Pascalli. “I’m sure your brothers showed you the use of the cutlass, but a little practice never hurt.”
“The bow is my weapon,” she said to Pascalli. “The weapon of a true huntress.”
“I can shoot,” I said, even though she was not looking at me.
“My family trains the greatest archers in the land. I learned to hunt when I learned to walk.”
I really wanted to bring that prideful chin down, just once. “Pick a mark,” I suggested.
“I’ve no need for childish games,” she replied.
“Too true,” agreed Pascalli, but with a wink in my direction. “We’ve no time for such frivolity just now.”
A few nights before we reached Last Gate we camped just off the imperial highway. Dina volunteered to take an equal watch with the rest of us, but I woke up early out of habit and joined her. Alone, in the dark, with the fire burning low I saw her eyes mix with confusion.
“What is it?” I asked. I hadn’t often spoken directly to her since Tarkin’s farm. Pascalli kept me busy. He was probably trying to keep us separated for a while in case there was any lingering animosity. I tried to smile. “I know you have a lot of questions. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “I have heard of Pascalli before, although I thought he was just a legend, but who are you?”
“Colter Halfspear,” I replied.
“Son of –“
I cut her off. “Kyven Halfspear. Yes.”
Her face filled with a kind of wonder I had never really noticed before. “If I had known,” she began, “I would have-“
Again I cut her off. “You would have been wrong. I was born the son of a farmer.” I did not look at her as I spoke, but I could feel her eyes on me. “I did not know my father well. I was born in a village in the eastern empire. I left behind my plow with the most bitter remorse. I hate fighting. I hate killing. Sometimes I think I hate Pascalli, but the truth is I would be lost without him.”
She sat quietly for a time, not daring to ask anymore questions.
“Do the boots fit properly,” I asked, more to break the silence than anything. She didn’t answer. “I’m glad you came along, it’s nice to have someone besides that old windbag.” She chuckled a little, and then after a few moments went to sleep.
In the morning I noticed that she was wearing her new boots, though she still had not decided if I was safe to speak to.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on March 16, 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.
Confused amazement turned to quiet trepidation on the faces of the caravan workers as I approached. I doubt that my dirty face would help my cause, and though I saw no point in Pascalli’s request, I knew better than to appeal his decision. “My companions and I are still interested in traveling with the caravan,” I said as I surveyed their situation. Three of their workers were bandaged, as were two of the four remaining guards. One of the horses had been killed by a rock, and wheels on two wagons had been replaced. I could not tell what, if any, of their cargo had been damaged, but I was sure that at least part of what they carried was lost. Master Baghorn, though undamaged, had clearly been shaken by the trouble.
“You’ve an interesting choice of companions,” he replied, pointing at Quivain.
“He is no longer a threat to you,” I commented. “I am sure he will repay any damages he has caused, though the price of a life cannot be regained.” A thought came to me, bold as it was, and I said it before Pascalli could stop me. “Did any of those who died have a family?”
“No, we lost only a few guards, and to my knowledge they were lone men in this world.”
“Then I will fill their contracts, without wages, and gladly fill it a second time at the same price until the cost of their loss is mended or until you tire of my company.” I tried to speak fairly and with confidence.
“You, alone?” asked Baghorn.
“I can speak only for myself,” I replied. “The actions of my companions are their own to answer, but they will certainly want to travel with me. Surely you will want to hire them. I can speak for their skill. The bald one is ferocious with a hammer when moved to anger, and the tall one is master of both blade and staff.”
“What about him,” he said, pointing at Quivain. “He is an outlaw and deserves to hang.”
“That is true, but I will not turn him in,” I replied. “I am not his judge and I do not have such need of gold as to break my promise that he would go free if in turn he would surrender and give up control of that magic.”
Knowing full well that the routed bandits could return at anytime, and seeing himself in a desperate situation, he finally agreed. “But Quivain is not to touch a weapon, or even get near one while in my camp. I hold you responsible for that!”
“If you know me, or my companions, you know we will do as we say.” The man made me angry, but I tried to keep my calm.
Baghorn looked more closely at me. “I’d heard that a wastrel boy and a pair of vagabonds may be wandering these roads. You’ve the look of a scoundrel. I don’t care what happened up north. Here I don’t know you.”
“Fair enough,” I replied.
“The regent in Havensod has a long arm. Torbridge’s men are patrolling farther west now that the nobles are moving towards Anascrag. I don’t need any trouble.” I could understand Baghorn’s concern, and in a way I appreciated his bluntness.
“I see you’ve managed well enough,” said Pascalli. “I see a bit of Imat rubbed into you. Keep both eyes on Blackhand. He’s a rogue to the last.”
“Spoken like a man who’s either betrayed or been betrayed by someone as close as his own mother,” observed Quivain. “I’d not trust you to cook my dinner.”
“And well you shouldn’t,” replied Pascalli. “I know more of poisons than even your old master ever learned, and he learned from some of the best. You are not my responsibility, but the boy is. Cross me and we’ll have words. Cross him and we’ll cross swords.”
“I owe the boy my life, though as you observed I hardly value that. It is at least worth the respect of an honest man, however. I’ll do as he says.”
True to his word, Quivain caused me no trouble, and I was able to learn much from him. Although his tongue was ever spinning a web of silky deceit, as I listened I learned not only how to discern the truth, but my own tongue gradually added some softness. “A glib tongue and quick mind are of more worth than a thousand swords, Scratch,” he said. “Don’t let the world sell you anything else, for it’s just a lie.” He called himself Blackhand for the gloves he always wore. Although he certainly had a different name recorded on some book in a temple, to the world he was Quivain Blackhand. Only to his mother and perhaps to a lonely priest was he known by something different, and if his story is to be believed, she did not share her life with his for more than a few brief moments.
The caravan consisted of four wagons, the five remaining guardsmen, my little company, Baghorn and his wife and four small children, and their three servants. According to custom, the mercenaries kept themselves apart from Baghorn’s family and close servants. The merchant had a daughter, but she was too young to be of much interest to any of the men. In the evenings the men often gathered together to play at dice. Quivain joined their games, though I can’t say where he found the coin to start.
“You use old tricks,” I observed to him after watching him play. “Sooner or later they will catch on, and then you’ll have trouble.”
He winked. “The slow ones won’t, and the quick ones played their own tricks,” he replied. “It’s an old game. Tomorrow they’ll see what else I know until the wise learn that I lose only when I want to. The rest will keep playing because they win sometimes and the thought of beating me will eat at them. I could teach you a few tricks if you’d like.”
“I’ve no use for cards or dice,” I said. “What I need to know I’ve already learned.”
“A fool’s statement,” he replied. “Any man can learn more.” He looked over at the girl who served as Baghorn’s cook and maid. We could not see her face from where we sat. “What do you see in her?” he asked.
“She’s a cook,” I replied.
“Yes, but what do you really see?”
“She’s been cooking for some time. She knows her business. She doesn’t care much for Baghorn, but she’s polite enough about it.”
“Not bad,” agreed Quivain.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“She’s got a bit of coin tucked beneath her skirt. It’s not much, but it’s enough she doesn’t want anyone to know about it. If you listen careful you can hear it, and the folds of her skirt cast an awkward shadow sometimes. This is her first caravan job, and will likely be her last as she uses borrowed tools.
You can’t see it now, but she’s a lively smile that hides a past she won’t share with you or me. You can see the scars on her hands from where she came from before though she tries to hide them beneath riding gloves whenever she can. She also keeps a small blade in her left boot. The boots don’t fit properly, as you can see by the track, which you’ve noticed but not mentioned. If invited to gamble I would say she refuses, not out of propriety, but because she’s learned the truth of gambling. It’s unlikely she has the experience to avoid a properly laid swindle, so if you want her money that would be the tactic to try.”
“You’ve a shrewd eye. Everyone is an opportunity for you,” I said.
“Everyone and everything. There are more tricks than dice or cards. Think on it.” He slipped into his borrowed blankets and left me to dwell on his words. I glanced again at the girl, and realized a familiarity in her movements. She turned her head and I recognized the freckles, though they had faded considerably.
“Good evening, Laural,” I said. Her hair caught a bit of the firelight and reflected back soft red and yellow. She had exchanged her shabby maid’s dress for riding skirts that fit her snugly and for a blouse cut far too low for mamma’s approval. “I’m glad to see you found a way out of the kitchens.”
“I’m still a maid,” she winked and laughed. Her voice sounded musical and light now, with no hint of the misery from before. “I still cook and wash and clean, but at least I see something of the world now.”
She had a knowing smile that could have been pretense, but I believed she at least felt she had outgrown her former self. We chatted a while about Havensod and people we knew. She was so much happier, a completely different person.
“You’re bigger,” she said. “I hardly recognized you.” Suddenly she changed the subject. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before. Of course I’ve never really seen more than a few scuffles at a tavern or inn, but that was exciting. I was terrified, of course, and after we were separated from the guards I thought we were lost for sure.”
Few people in my life had looked at me with anything more than a condescending smile or derisive glance. Her girlish grin and compliments stilled my heart and tongue. I could feel the heat rising to my face. “I think I was more angry than afraid. Pascalli didn’t lift a finger to help, and he could have stopped it anytime he wanted,” I said
“I’m glad he didn’t,” she replied, her voice coy, as she winked. “I was terrified, but you showed great courage.”
Baghorn expected me to direct all of the guards’ activities, which turned out to be much easier than anticipated. Pascalli and Quivain both had a hand in my training as a leader while Iven became less vocal with each passing day. Of all the guards, only Bracken seemed to resent our intrusion. He was a strong, experienced fighter who understood the value of strength and little else. He deferred to my direction because Pascalli and Iven did, though I could tell he had little confidence in me.
Baghorn directed the caravan north and west to trade with the towns west of Dynwater but not so far north as the Northern Crown. Though the profits would not be as large, further east the roads would be more dangerous. Quivain privately counseled me to avoid some places where he knew outlaws preyed. I relayed this information to Baghorn, but was careful not to mention Quivain’s name.
Each day I talked with Quivain, and he showed me tricks he knew about understanding people and learning not only where they hid their gold but how they might hide other secrets. Pascalli often joined these conversations.
“A person is many things,” observed Quivain. “We present ourselves to the world so that others might accept who we are. We hold things back in hopes that they won’t guess the dark truths we all hide, our fears and desires. Strip away the veils and you can reach the heart of a man.”
Pascalli laughed. “Aye, but not he heart of a woman. That requires something altogether different.”
Quivain laughed with him. “Right you are, old man, but one step at a time for the lad. He’s barely learned to walk. Let’s not make him run just yet.”
We guarded Baghorn’s caravan for many markets. Laural and I renewed our friendship, and I passed that summer as happily as any in my life. The caravan stopped once near a beautiful lowland lake just a little east of Anascrag. Beneath the moonlight I shared my first real kiss.
“Where will you go after Anascrag?” asked Laural.
“The Kaarum are regaining their strength. That’s what Pascalli says. We are going to meet them at Darnuth Keep,” I said.
“Then what? Get killed?” She sounded incredulous.
“It is my destiny to destroy them,” I said. I felt the words roll out mechanically.
“We make our own destiny in this life. You can be a great man in this world, Colter. Pascalli isn’t concerned about what’s best for you.”
The truth of her words struck a chord in my heart, but they also opened my mind to the growing realization of my own feelings. “He may use me, but Pascalli is doing what he believes is best for the world. Nobody understands how important that is better than he does. And I have my father’s curse to fulfill. I will make things right with Tylos.”
“I don’t want to stay with the caravan. Take me with you,” she said, her eyes betraying her desperation. “Baghorn’s a bully and a fool, and I’ll never see anything slaving for him.”
“There’s more than money out there,” I said, trying to sound both wise and comforting.
“Easy for you to say. You have a full purse and a sword to take you wherever you go.” A bit of her character I had overlooked before was now coming out.
“I haven’t any money,” I said, though I did have some savings left from earlier adventures. “I committed to work for Baghorn for nothing in exchange for Quivain’s life. And I go where Pascalli takes me anyway. I don’t have much choice what I do.”
She looked horrified, those amazing eyes flared with anger. “You what? You mean you’re slaving for that fat slug in order to save that rogue! I was better off scraping pots for Jakand. You amaze me. And to think I let myself like you!”
I turned from prince to pauper in a few short minutes, at least in her eyes. She left me there by the lake to nurse my stunned pride and to try to figure out what had happened. I did have some gold, not much, but I knew that anyone more interested in your money than yourself was not someone to chase after. That didn’t mean I didn’t think about it more than once. I believe she meant for me to chase after her, that she had played her last trick to get me to abandon Pascalli and seek glory and wealth on my own. Unfortunately for her I was much too simple to see her game and too inexperienced with people to understand.
I resumed my duties with the caravan, and dedicated myself to training with Pascalli. He seemed pleased that I no longer spent time with Laural, and yet concerned at the same time.
“Your better off without that one, lad,” said Iven once. “She’s the worst kind.”
“What kind should I look for?” I asked.
I don’t think he expected that question, and he wasn’t prepared to answer. His bald pate turned red, and he muttered something under his breath. Pascalli overheard us and erupted into laugher.
“That, my boy, is something you may well have to discover for yourself. We are just old men who manage our way through life the hard way. This much I can say. Ask yourself what you want, truly what you want from life, and then seek the person who wants to share that with you. Peasants give themselves to each other just to survive and produce enough brats to run their patch of land. Nobles marry to create alliances and preserve their dynasties. Neither is often happy. Most live miserable lives. The few, the lucky, are those who can choose their own way in this world. That choice is before you, and will always be there.”
I didn’t notice Quivain join us. “They’re right, lad. She doesn’t know that she doesn’t want what she wants right now. In time she may come around, but she’ll hurt herself and anyone near her long before that day comes.”
“You don’t make sense,” I observed.
“I will one day,” he replied.
Though I avoided Laural, and she avoided me, Quivain struck up a friendship with her that I did not expect. The two spent time together each night. Often she sat with him, watching him at dice, though I knew she cared little enough for the game. In his turn he spoke less and less to me.
“I told you to keep both eyes on him,” said Pascalli when I spoke to him about it. “Now I think you should keep your eyes on your duties with Baghorn. What becomes of Quivain is his own affair. The caravan has come farther north than I expected. The Kaarum may have begun sending scouts, though it is still early to say. Don’t forget Torbridge either. I doubt the man can reach this far, but I can only guess at the friends he may have made without my opposition in the courts. I’ve been too long away from the nobles. Politics is a nasty business, and changes with the wind.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Ten
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Posted by admin on March 9, 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.
I dismounted and looked to Quivain’s wound. The hurt was very bad, but not mortal. Always while in the wild I had remembered to practice my little lore of herbs and roots, and Pascalli had an uncanny ability to know precisely the use of everything we passed. To my great delight the wizard answered those questions as freely as if he felt it a challenge to see if I would ever weary of tapping the well of his knowledge. In truth I never tired of learning the lore of the woods. I often collected seeds when the season was right, and wherever we traveled I tried to gather more so that when at long last we came to some rest I would be able to plant a little garden. Quivain’s luck dictated that I have some bloodsap I had collected only a few days earlier which I applied gingerly.
His determined grimace mocked me as I performed my little surgery. I picked out the shards of bone and stopped the bleeding with the bloodsap. When I asked if he had a clean cloth for a bandage he produced a fine silk handkerchief. After a few long moments I had reduced the danger of gangrene and substantially increased his comfort.
“Light me a pipe, lad,” he asked, his tone no longer jeering. He indicated a pouch at his side. I did as he asked, finding both pipe and fuel inside, as well as a few coins a necklace and a ring. I had gold enough of my own, but I was curious why a man of his obvious vanity would refrain from wearing the jewelry. “You’ve a skilled hand at surgery,” he said when his pipe was lit.
“I’m sorry I haven’t got anything to ease your pain,” I replied. “I’m sure there are roots in the area, but it would take time to find them, and I still need to deal with your rocky friend.”
Sometimes a realization comes upon us with such force it literally changes us into a different person. I believe that as soon as the words escaped my mouth I had such an experience. How stupid could I be! I went chasing hopelessly after the servant when clearly the master was at hand. So the lesson, or at least part of the lesson that Pascalli tried to teach me I learned. The situation required more thought than action, and perhaps more skill with words than with swords.
Quivain seemed to guess my thoughts, though I imagine it was not difficult for him to do so. “At least you’ve discovered that killing me will not stop it. Although it might have saved you some trouble anyway.” He winked. There must have been something special in his pipe for he no longer seemed to be in pain.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I replied. I was now tired and frustrated and confused, but determined to get my answers from him. “I just put you back together again. All I want to do is clear the road.” The words were out before I realized how pathetic they must have sounded to someone like Quivain.
He laughed. He laughed a mocking laugh that bit at my heart with its spite. “The road will be clear in time,” he said. “Why not just go around?”
I didn’t really have an answer, but I said, “Because I don’t want to. Now either make the thing go away or tell me how to do it.”
“Or what?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You won’t kill me, you already said that, and I won’t be threatened. You may take me prisoner, but I promise you’ll regret it everyday if you do, not that I wouldn’t escape, of course.”
“I have no use for prisoners,” I answered. “What would I do with you?” He rolled his eyes at this question, and started to speak, but I cut him short. “I can’t turn you in for bounty,” I said quickly. That statement surprised him.
“What? Why not?”
I squirmed a little in my mind, and I felt my face flush. “Because imperial agents are looking for me,” I said. His eyes widened with a surprise that even this master rogue could not conceal.
“Surely, lad, you jest. I’ve traveled many a road with many a rogue and few I’ve known to attract the ire of the emperor. Most do little more than stir up trouble for a minor lord or lady now and again.”
“I’m not sure if he’s angry,” I said. “The emperor I mean. He just wants to talk to me and I don’t want to talk to him, that’s all. Now look, why don’t you clear that thing off the road and you can come with us for a while. I can guarantee you’ll be safe from anyone looking for you as long as you’re with us, and you will be free to leave whenever you want.” I was certain he would think me mad. I could tell he was seriously considering his options, but at last he agreed.
“Very well, lad, I agree.” His eyes sparkled dangerously, and he put forward the hand from his undamaged arm. As I took it, he said, “Now fetch me a horse and I’ll see about old rocky.”
By now the forest for several meters in all directions had been vigorously damaged by the raging tumult. Branches and rubble lay strewn everywhere I looked.
The caravan had now managed to gather itself together and was preparing to move out the way they just came. Finding an extra mount turned out to be less difficult than I first imagined. Quivain’s outlaw band was well outfitted, and I turned up a stray in just a few moments. I didn’t see how it happened, but by the time I returned with the horse, the rumbling stopped, and now the quiet felt nearly deafening. In place of the whirling mass of earth and stone was a patch of road as smooth as anyone could desire. Though signs of rubble and broken trees remained, the road and all the dirt had returned to make the pathway straight. A cry arose among the caravan at the silence and they turned to investigate.
Pascalli stood up as I led Quivain to where he had waited patiently for me to put an end to the trouble. “I’ll have that ring, Master Blackhand,” he said.
“It’s not yours on any account, and I certainly wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”
“Who are you and what are you talking about?” Quivain looked from Pascalli to me. His eyes betrayed both confusion and anger. “What’s this all about?”
“No games, Quivain, and do not attempt to play the fool with me. I have a genuine fool to watch over daily,” he directed his eyes at me. “Knowing the difference is a sort of specialty of mine. The ring,” he repeated.
“Who are you,” Quivain asked. His tone was direct and all pretenses gone.
“I am the master of all that was broken. You’ve a trinket in your pocket that will bring you grief in the end, and I am glad it has fallen to me.” Pascalli towered over the smaller man, and though his words rolled out calmly they held an air of authority.
“If I refuse?” inquired the rogue.
“You cannot,” said Pascalli as bluntly as I had ever heard him say anything. “You will give or I will take.” He uttered the last phrase with a finality that could not be missed.
Quivain conceded. He took the ring from his pouch and tossed it at Pascalli. “Anything else, while I’m giving things away?”
Pascalli snatched the ring from the air and it quickly disappeared to one of his many pockets. “You’ve nothing else of worth,” he replied. “Unless you value your life, which I doubt.” Then he turned to me. “I see you finally managed to think your way out of that mess, though by the look of you it was a hard lesson to learn and one I hope you don’t forget.”
“Of course not,” I grimbled.
“I imagine you promised this person you would let him tag a long whether I wanted him or not?” Pascalli had resumed his usual merry tone, and I couldn’t tell if I was in any real trouble or not.
“Yes, well, I told him he could travel with us. I didn’t see any harm in it,” I said.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” replied Pascalli. “I do see the harm, or potential harm, as well as the potential good. However, it is another lesson you will be able to learn all on your own, and in due time. But you still haven’t done what I asked you to do before this entire mess started. Go and get us employment with that caravan before they decide to leave us all behind. I should like to speak with the merchant. There is news of the wide world I want to hear. Off you go Scratch, and take your prize with you.” He pointed to Quivain who followed me as I mounted my horse and rode back to the caravan.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on March 2, 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.
Pascalli knocked my blade out of my hand for the fifth or sixth time straight and sent me sprawling into the dust with a brutal kick. I dragged myself to my feet again and retrieved my weapon. I looked up to see my master watching an approaching group of wagons. “Dust yourself off Scratch, and go and offer our services.”
We were out of work again and as usual I obeyed. I can only imagine the sight I must have made. I didn’t cut my hair in those days so it must have been scraggly and down to my shoulders over dusty mail. My unwashed face could hardly make a strong impression, and my boots bore testament to the many kilometers we covered. I strapped on my bow, mounted my horse and rode to greet them. Pascalli warned me to always prepare for danger when meeting someone new along the highway. As casually as possible I removed an arrow before approaching too closely. I was in no mood to fight.
Master Baghorn, the wagon master was a short, round man dressed in a comfortable silk tunic. I never knew a less cheerful man, though men obsessed with wealth seldom are. His voice made a rather nasally sound whenever it erupted in a tantrum, and that same nasally tone would creep in when involved in a particularly exciting business deal. Four wagons comprised the train and two tall men in shining mail with long spears guarded each one. Immediately I realized that getting work from this gentleman would require more than simply asking.
“Hello,” I called.
Master Baghorn called a halt and signaled to one of his guards to come forward. The guard stood a full head taller than me and had a thick muscular build. He wore a thick black mustache and well-groomed hair cut short. The pommel of his sword was polished brightly, and he carried a small shield with a blue heron’s crest strapped to his arm. I had no desire to confront a nobleman or indeed to make any enemies at all.
“You come armed,” indicated the wagon master. I noticed then that he also had a rapier dangling at his side. He was a fat man, but I knew that his girth could be covering many winters of strength and muscle. He scanned me quickly, and I knew he saw more than just my dirty clothes and unkempt hair. The yellow silk blouse and black trousers sparkled nicely in the spring sunlight.
“I come to offer my services and the services of my companions if you wish it, my lord.” At least I hoped to sound courteous. That was one thing mamma taught me that even Iven couldn’t pound out.
“You’ve a sweet tongue for a rogue and ruffian,” replied the guard. His voice was as gruff and direct as his words. “Be gone before we slit your throats and turn you in for the bounty.”
“I’ve come in peace,” I replied. “We mean you no harm, and have only come to offer help. I see you’ve men enough, but the passage west has grown more dangerous this winter. There is always safety in numbers.”
“There is never safety with a rogue,” answered the guard. “We’ve wasted enough time with you already. Move out of the way before I toss you from that horse.”
Our dialogue was suddenly interrupted by a voice of practiced calm. “Stand aside, lad, let the real rogues have their claim.” A man dressed in silliest courtier fashion with a black hardened leather doublet and with bow at the ready had crept up quietly to the side of the road. He wore a black and silver blouse with matching trousers. He covered his head with a dark green hat over a set of shoulder-length dark brown locks. He hid his face behind a black veil from the nose down, but the dark eyes seemed to search everything at once. What I remember best about him, however, were the buckles on his shoes and the voice that slipped like silk from his tongue. “Leave now, boy, and you’ll not be hurt. The rest of you, throw down your weapons. I am Quivain Blackhand, and my lads have you surrounded.”
My eyes met those of the guard leader, and I knew instantly he would not back down, and I nodded. “To arms!” he shouted as he charged Quivain.
Arrows sailed into the wagons, and Master Baghorn whipped his horses into action. I loosed an arrow and caught one of the enemy bowmen in the throat. Arrows sailed towards the wagons as they attempted to charge past the bowmen. I wheeled my horse and charged into a pack of outlaws on one side of the road. Two guards joined the battle on my side while the rest divided their attention between engaging bowmen on the opposite side and helping move the wagons along. The skill of the mercenaries was fair, and they made a reasonable match against the outlaws, but I realized they lacked the experience of being whipped daily by a wizard who claimed nearly a thousand winters of practice. To my delight I found the battle turning in our favor, and had just managed to frighten away the last of the outlaws on our side of the road when a distant rumble and sinking in my stomach told me that something dreadful had happened.
Quivain, now engaged in mortal combat with the guard leader, burst out in a gale of laughter as the rumbling began. I wheeled my horse and drove to help the guard, but I arrived too late. Quivain stuck down his opponent and retreated into the woods.
“After the wagons!” I called, confident someone would follow. I learned a hard lesson when I charged headlong to save the wagons. As an intruder no one knew yet if they could trust me, so I chased down a wagon train alone while the surviving guards weighed their options far behind me.
My horse shied back in fear when I discovered the source of Quivain’s confidence. There is a great deal of magic in this world, and some of it is wild, running its own course, tied to nothing at all. This sort of magic can take many forms, and without a wizard to direct it or dominate it such a force can be very difficult to stop. The magic had entered the very earth, pulling itself into a great moving swirl of rock and rubble that blocked the road.
This thing, whatever it was, swirled some four meters high, lashing out with stones and dirt. An enormous dust devil had been raised and I felt nearly blinded by the stinging in my eyes. Master Baghorn attempted to turn his wagons about, but the road was far too narrow for that and finally he had to abandon his seat to dodge a stone that soared towards his head and crashed into an unlucky oak. The horses on the lead wagon kicked and neighed in terror, threatening to topple the wagon and all its contents. I tried the direct route first, and charged. My effort proved to be a complete shambles. I did manage to force whatever energy held it together to waver a little, but poking my spear into a swirling mass of dirt was quite difficult and I believe very dangerous. Afterwards I realized my actions were extremely foolish. Sand and dust battered me head to toe and at each moment I had to dodge rocks the size of my head or larger. After only a few seconds of that nonsense, I retreated a short distance to contemplate my next move.
At the time I was too busy trying to stay alive to notice that everyone else had already abandoned the wagons and were fleeing back along the road. Pascalli and Iven stayed to watch, and at one point I think I may have heard the smith yell something like, “Scratch, you fool, get out before your head comes off!” But I didn’t come out of my determined rage until I heard Quivain’s mocking laugh.
“Keep at it, little hero,” he laughed.
There was an element of pride and foolishness that made me want to quiet that mocking voice, but much more than that I felt angry at the person who had attacked the innocent. I wheeled my horse and charged. I don’t know that he expected such a vicious attack, and I doubt he seriously considered my abilities at arms a threat of any kind. Only at the last instant was he able to dodge my spear just enough to avoid being skewered completely, although I caught his arm, just below the armpit. I felt the bone crush and let the spear go. The momentum of my charge and the weight of the spear dropped Quivain to the ground where he laid gasping and cursing.
Charging Quivain did nothing to stop the earth creature’s onslaught.
The horses and wagons had now managed to back themselves out of danger. The guards had decided to round up stray outlaws, while the drivers and servants cowered. I stood alone against the creature while Pascalli and Iven cheered from the side of the road. Once more I tried the direct approach, which this time seemed to infuriate the thing. After a few moments, Pascalli lit a pipe and sat to enjoy his smoke. I decided to wear it down by charging in and dancing quickly out, but this turned out to be a very bad idea as the end result was that I became tired rather quickly while it simply raged on. Finally, distraught and angry, my horse weary and lathered, I dismounted and walked over to Pascalli.
“I’ve tried everything I know,” I sighed. He gave me a bemused smile. I was exasperated and screamed, “These people need our help. Can’t you see that?”
“I thought you were doing excellently,” he said, his tone completely condescending. “For a minute there I think you almost had it.” He winked. “Now, why don’t you try using your brains for once, instead of that silly pig poker, which by the way you should probably retrieve?”
“I don’t know what else to do,” I said. “I’ve tried everything.”
“Obviously you haven’t tried everything,” said my master, now using a tone that I recognized as the precursor to his short temper. “It is still here.”
“Do you have any suggestions,” I asked, as politely as I could.
“Look at the situation, my dear silly lad,” he replied, again as merrily as if we were picnicking. “The answer is readily supplied.”
I looked hopefully at Iven who merely shrugged and ducked as a rock hurtled suddenly towards us.
“It’s getting angry now, Scratch, you better hurry!” admonished Pascalli.
I could have turned and rode away but something drove me to finish the fight. There was nothing really holding me there. With Quivain wounded and the outlaws routed, simply turning around and finding another road could easily avoid the danger. Even victory was nearly pointless. Little could be gained by conquering this foe. It guarded nothing really. It wasn’t evil. It simply happened to be in my path. Backing away from such a challenge, particularly with Pascalli goading me never entered my mind.
Reckless youth will have its way. Once more I charged in, only to find the same results. My whole body was caked now with thick layers of dirt and grit. It would take me a full market to get all of the sand and dirt out of my clothes and ears. Finally I decided there must in fact be a better way, and I looked around. There, on the ground, bleeding and pale lay Quivain, whom I had forgotten in my haste.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on February 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.
The next day we saw six wagons drawing close to the village from the south as Pascalli and I returned from our daily practice. “They’ll be carrying food or silk north. Most of the food comes from the west. They’ll trade it for gold or tools or furs to take to the south,” said Pascalli.
We rode out to greet them. The wagons did not pause at our approach though a man clad in mail rode out to greet us. “You must be Pascalli,” said the man in armor. “My name is Imat. A cousin of mine said a fat man and a boy were loafing about up here waiting for the caravans to start.”
“Your cousin was right.” Pascalli smiled and laughed. “I see you come fairly well supplied, but Nysang and his men are rumored to be waiting further north. A few extra spears can’t hurt.”
“Nysang is a pig, but nobody’s made him squeal yet. They say he has nearly a hundred men riding with him now. The rotted Kaarum gave every worthless beggar an excuse to turn thief and the rotted empire gave all of them swords to do it with. I’ve a dozen solid men. Is it just you two, or can I expect any more help in Larston?” asked Imat.
“We’ve one companion,” replied Pascalli. “He’s a stout fellow and not to be trifled with in or out of battle. I would advise against taking on anyone else at Larston. Erich the Bald is waiting at Radston. If the stories are true he has something personal against Nysang. He may be valuable to have along.”
“He’s a greasy one Erich. Slipped through more hangmen’s ropes than anybody. You seem well informed,” said Imat.
“I keep my eyes open,” replied the wizard.
“Good, you’ll need them. We’ll water the oxen and horses and do a little trading in Larston. Tomorrow we push on. That dung pile Angry Gim beat us to the best of it already.”
“His load was small,” said Pascalli. “You may need to travel a bit further than expected, but you should still get your price. Nobody else has come this way.”
I watched mutedly as they discussed their business. The dozen men Imat spoke of carried a mixture of weapons and armor fragments scavenged from previous battles. Their mounts were better than those generally used by villagers or even soldiers. The men were rough and hard. They eyed us curiously, especially Pascalli who seemed to have usurped a position of greater importance without passing their approval.
Imat directed the affairs of the guards and watched over the wagons, but Darman, a small easy-going man owned the wares and made the final decisions. For the most part Darman ignored Iven and me, though the smith proved more useful to the caravan than the rest of us. Iven often repaired pieces of equipment, and each time I served as his assistant, learning a bit of his craft each day. We passed through a few tiny villages on our way. At each we traded only a little. At one of these we added Erich the Bald to our number.
“Pay attention to Imat,” warned Pascalli. “He’s a strong leader and you can learn from him. Watch how he handles his men and learn to do the same.”
“What about Erich?” I asked. “Imat listens to him.”
“Good job, Scratch. I hoped you might notice that. Erich’s a shrewd fighter, and wise enough to avoid the attention of Darman. Watch them both, but take the older warrior’s advice if he gives it. He hasn’t lived this long through foolishness.”
Each day before we began moving and after we stopped, Pascalli worked with me on my spear. Though the other guards often observed our practice they rarely said anything about it. Only Erich the Bald ever interrupted us.
“You’re too nervous, lad,” he said one day. “Stop thinking about winning or losing the fight. Stop thinking about the forms. By now you know how to hold the thing and where to put it. Let your mind relax and let your body enjoy the movements.”
I thought to ask him to explain himself, but hesitated. I tried to apply his method, but failed. Later, as he sat alone with his drink I approached him. “I can’t do it,” I said.
He looked into my eyes, and though his own were bloodshot and weary with drink and travel, even I could see the cunning and desire to survive that he tried to hide. “You’ll learn,” he said. “The old windbag says you’ve been blooded, so you’ve sense enough to handle yourself, but you’ll not reach your father’s greatness without losing your fear.” He caught the question in my eyes and stopped me before I could ask. “I rode with your pa, almost from the start. You’ll never be able to hide from those who knew him well. You’ve the same face, and the same fears. Learn to keep your fears someplace else and you’ll see improvement.”
I went away confused but less uncertain. Pascalli continued to push. I had little time to myself. Though my thoughts sometimes returned to my farm or the places I had known since, I had no opportunity to dwell on them. Then, one day our scout didn’t return.
Imat corralled the wagons immediately and personally verified that each person was properly armed. The bandits were no fools. They knew we couldn’t wait for long and that they outnumbered us. We spent one night in silent anticipation before Darman convinced him we had to continue on. Imat’s concession was to travel slowly and place each rider for maximum mobility.
The attack the following morning happened swiftly and with precision. Only Imat’s careful planning preserved the caravan. A hail of arrows fell over us before nearly a hundred men on foot charged into us. The few who kept bows in the wagons returned fire quickly. A man to my right took an arrow to the chest and our little group swung out wide to flank the attack and draw away a part of their force.
Across the road Erich waded into the battle. He whirled an enormous spiked chain with horrible accuracy. Men fell away from him wounded or frightened as he cleared a wide path for his allies. His face was calm and his voice steady as he shouted orders to nearby guards.
Imat directed yet a third group with precision, flanking the attack opposite my group. Though the outlaws outnumbered us severely, the guardsmen were all veterans of at least a few close battles and handled themselves without fear. A few, like myself became disoriented at times and had to rely on the careful direction of the experienced leaders. Others threw themselves at the enemy with a passion and bloodlust I had never before seen.
Despite being afoot, Erich the Bald reached Nysang first. The bandit leader was a large man, nearly as large as Pascalli. He wore thick furs that did not completely hide the many scars on his arms and legs. He used a great axe with brutal efficiency, and was alone responsible for most of our losses that day. He caught Erich’s chain with the axe and ripped it from the smaller man’s hands as if plucking the hide from an ear of corn. Undaunted, Erich stepped in and drew a short, broad stabbing sword forged after the manner of the old empire.
They threw themselves at each other with the precise, trained fury of men who knew not only combat but their opponent’s mind and will. All around them the battle slowed as men focused on the display of single combat. Blows fell and were countered on both sides. Erich used speed beyond what his old legs seemed capable. Nysang growled and lunged, receiving a vicious gash on the right arm for his efforts. Quickly Erich stepped aside and past the larger man before he could raise his guard again. By the time the axe was ready, the sword drove home, and with one breath the outlaws fled into the woods.
Our numbers had been cut in half, both of guards as well as servants and drivers. Darman asked for volunteers among the guards to drive wagons, and Iven offered my services. We stayed with the caravan until we reached the silver mines east of Dynwater in the lower parts of the Northern Crown. Darman made a fair trade in both coin and bullion, and he agreed to keep us on as he returned south to seek yet more profit before he could return to Havensod to buy an inn and retire in comfort. We rode with him for several markets, listening to news of the wide world and sharing the caravan’s troubles.
Each day I learned a little more from my companions, until Pascalli no longer hovered over me at every turn. Erich left us shortly after turning south. “If ever you return to the east, lad, you’ll find me wandering here. I’ll gladly share my fire with Halfspear’s son.”
As summer faded into autumn we found ourselves west and south of Dynwater, but not so far west as Anascrag. “I’ll be turning east again,” said Darman. “I’ve furs and coin and food enough to set a tidy profit. I’ve no love for the regent or his pig Torbridge, but Havensod is a place that holds my heart. I know you can’t follow me all the way, but I’d be obliged if you could ride that way at least for a market or two.”
Pascalli nodded and smiled. “For a few markets. We’ll need a safe place to winter. Word is the Festival of Spears will be held next summer. In the spring I mean to go to Anascrag.”
“Then we’ll go south first, and leave you where the weather is less dangerous and the people more friendly,” agreed Darman. “I’ve a cousin who often travels east to west and back again. You may have the luck to fall in with him along the way.”
We passed the winter wandering from village to village as tinkers and mercenaries. Though few of the common folk had use for a sword or spear, anybody who could mend a wagon wheel or shoe a horse was welcome. When the snows began to fall few merchants traveled the roads, but those who did welcomed our company for our names and faces were known among the people of the wild lands. Often when we entered a new tavern or inn, the name of Scratch slipped out and someone would call for an account of our battle with Nysang.
By spring Iven had given me a razor sharp steel knife to use for shaving. “Beards are for dishonest men and nobles, which is usually the same thing,” he said. “Keep your face clean and people will know you’ve nothing to hide.”
Pascalli laughed and tugged at his own beard. “Believe what you want, my friend. Styles come and go. When I was a boy a beard was a symbol of power and prestige. Today it is more a matter of preference. It’s time we turned north again and began looking for Darman’s cousin. The Kaarum will be scouting south again by now, and we’ve business in the west.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on February 16, 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 left Delvin’s farm and turned east and north back into the mountains. We made every attempt to hide our tracks, and I learned a few tricks from Pascalli that I hadn’t known about throwing off pursuit. “As you know, tracking is more about knowing where your quarry is likely to go than just randomly looking for sign,” said the wizard. “So to avoid capture you have to stay a step ahead of the pursuit and gage his ability to understand your motives as well. It will do you no good to think three or four steps ahead of your pursuit if he can’t manage to even guess your next move.”
“What do you think Torbridge will do?” I asked.
“He will watch the roads to the west, at least as far as he can. It won’t take him long to figure out that we’ve gone into the mountains, but he knows we will have to come out sooner or later so he will watch the frontier and the settlements. He won’t risk his men in the mountains while the snowline is so low. When the snow melts, if he hasn’t had word he may send men to find us. Our trick will be to get out of the mountains and into territory where your face and name aren’t connected. We need news of the wide world, and soon. I’d hoped they would forget you during the winter, but it’s beginning to look like that hasn’t happened.”
Pascalli kept us moving until well after nightfall. Though we kept below the snowline, night came hard and cold. We found a sheltered place between two tall pines that cut off the wind. One of the wide trunks served as a reflector for our small fire. We huddled around it in the darkness, careful not to look directly into the flames and listened to the sounds of the forest.
“The farmer gave me some chicory root,” said Iven. He tossed some of the dried grounds into a pot of water over the fire. “I’ve missed it since we ran out.”
“I used to gather it back on the farm. Mamma taught me to dry it and roast it. Most evenings we sat listening to her read to us from the books that survived the fire,” I said.
“Your mother is a wise woman,” said Pascalli. “No doubt she taught you much about the world beyond Dunston. She has relatives in Havensod. Some distant cousin, I believe, is a minor dignitary to the regent. They were delighted when she married your father, though later he displeased them greatly by retiring to Dunston.”
“Will we be going on to Anascrag now?” asked Iven. His eyes betrayed his hope and anxiety.
“Not yet, my friend,” replied Pascalli. “Scratch needs to learn to handle that spear a little better before I risk him that close to danger.” The smith seemed unconvinced. “Lord Trelsin is a relative to Dunroust. Not only that, they are friends.”
“So we can’t return to Anascrag until Trelsin dies?” said Iven in disgust. “There must be another way.”
“Of course there is another way,” replied Pascalli, his tone curt. “Time is our ally at the moment. The Kaarum will not recover for many markets, at least I hope they don’t, but until the last little bands are eliminated in the east the minds of the nobles will continue to dwell on war, and when they think of war they will think of Halfspear. Eventually their enthusiasm will die down and their minds will turn to other matters, like the Festival of Spears.”
“They haven’t held the festival for five summers,” said Iven. “It may never happen again.”
“It will happen,” replied the wizard. “I am sure of that, and when it does we will return to Anascrag. I hope that we can return before it happens, but not long before. Last summer already there was talk of it Dynwater, but the threat of the Kaarum changed any plans. It won’t be long before the plans begin again. Then their minds will forget our young charge, and Anascrag will be a safer place.”
“I still don’t like it,” grumbled the smith. He wrapped himself in his blankets and soon slept peacefully. I drank my chicory and watched the stars. Despite the danger and possible pursuit I felt at peace. I wanted to see Anascrag and the west. I wanted to do what my father hadn’t done.
Pascalli shook me awake before the first sunlight thought to creep over the mountaintops. We saddled our horses and broke camp in the quiet darkness without bothering even to build a fire to take the edge off the chill. Pascalli and Iven were quiet and I followed their example. We cut sharply north. I wondered why we made no attempts to hide our trail until the first drops of rain began to fall.
Pascalli pushed us faster until we came to a steep rocky incline that sloped into a narrow canyon. Our horses left little sign on the slippery rocks as we followed it down. Within moments all hints of our passage would be wiped away. A small stream wandered along the bottom of the canyon, full with spring runoff. The water would be icy cold from the glaciers higher up, and if the rain continued it could quickly swell to a dangerous roar.
“Keep to the side,” warned Pascalli. “After a few kilometers the canyon branches north and south. Assuming they try to track us at all they will probably not find the canyon. If they do, the stream should be full enough they won’t follow.”
“Assuming it doesn’t flood us in the process,” grumbled Iven.
“Then we best make haste,” agreed Pascalli.
By early afternoon we found the north fork of the canyon and left the stream. Already it had swollen beyond the limits of safety. All of our tracks would wash away before nightfall. The canyon eventually turned west again and opened into a wide valley. We found shelter in a clump of trees near the mouth of the canyon and decided to wait out the rain.
“A little further west is a road,” said the wizard with a smile. “Merchants will be moving north with grain and south with wool. Our faces won’t be known this far north, and we’ll be well away from the more aggressive pursuit.”
“Somebody’s bound to recognize you or the lad sooner or later,” said Iven. “You’ve a face to remember.”
“As long as we stay in the north there is little risk of that. Nobody knows Scratch, and most commoners think I’m merely a myth. We’ll stay off the imperial highways if that will make you feel better.”
The rain let up before nightfall, and we were able to dry our clothes and enjoy a warm meal. By morning even Iven had recovered some of his higher spirits, and Pascalli led us to the road with a cheerful laugh and broad smile. We waited only a short while before a pair of wagons headed north drifted into view. A small man with a nervous manner drove the first. He stopped short when he saw us.
“’Tis a free road you’re blocking,” he called.
“We’ve no desire to impede your journey,” replied Pascalli. “Indeed, if you fear thieves this spring then perhaps we can help you. My companions and I are also headed north and would gladly offer you our protection.”
“You’ve the look of thieves about you,” replied the man. “No honest man rides a mount as fine as yours.”
“I never said we were honest men, only that we travel north,” said Pascalli. “I usually find safety in numbers.”
“Depends on the company.” The man smirked. He scowled and carefully looked each of us over. “I’m Angry Gim Hammers. You can ride as far as Larston.” The young man driving the wagon behind him watched us carefully though he didn’t speak.
We rode alongside the wagons at an easy pace. Pascalli seemed content with their company and the course they set. I rode beside the second wagon, not wanting to interfere with the conversation of my elders. I noticed a longbow behind the seat and a quiver of arrows. The driver kept a long knife at his belt. Gim wore a similar knife, and I was sure more weapons waited hidden in his wagon.
“In the east everybody travels armed,” advised Pascalli when we camped. “Nobles may have better weapons, but every man carries something. The law is rare and you have to learn to solve your own problems out here. In the west the old kingdom has better control. Here the land is still young. Keep your eyes open.”
When we reached Larston I felt the tension lift a little and was glad to leave Gim. I expected Pascalli to push on again right away, but instead we took rooms at a boarding house and settled in to wait. Iven still carried enough tools to turn his hand at nearly any task and offered his services as a tinker to pay our rent while Pascalli looked after my training. Each day we rode out before dawn to practice with my weapons. We always rode a wide circle around the village, scouting the local farms and area. Afterwards I helped Iven with his chores. Pascalli spent most of his time eating, drinking, and visiting with the locals.
Though Iven’s contempt of Pascalli’s manner was visible, the wizard didn’t seem to mind. In the evenings I often sat at his table, or nearby as he played dice or cards or swapped stories with the townsfolk. He never let me join any game, though at times he showed me his tricks for winning or losing as the occasion required.
“What are we waiting for?” I asked, one evening as we returned from the tavern.
“An opportunity, and news,” he replied. “It was still early in the season for much traffic, but soon more merchants will take to the roads. I’ve let word get out that we are looking for work. News travels quickly, though you may not guess it. Every sword for hire has a story behind it. Even Gim will have told others about us by now. Torbridge is still looking for us, though it seems word has gotten around about how he treated Delvin. He won’t get any help he can’t buy or force through his own troops. That gives us a bit more room to work. We should be able to hire on again soon enough.”
“Do you think Torbridge will ever give up the pursuit?” I asked.
“No, not while he lives. In Darnuth Keep, if we survive it, we’ll be free from the empire for they’ve no hold there, but it is a place even more wild than this. You won’t be safe this side of Anascrag.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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Posted by admin on February 9, 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.
I left them with their daughter in the late afternoon sun and headed towards the farm where I knew my companions would be waiting. I barely left the little road that wound away from the farm when a group of four horsemen approached. I noticed something familiar about the way their leader held himself and decided to see who they were. As we drew closer I noticed Torbridge’s crisply clean uniform. He led three imperial troops toward Delvin’s farm. He didn’t recognize me at first. I had grown up a great deal. I wore my new mail comfortably, and though the sword was still strapped across my shoulder, it fit there properly. I now moved more like a soldier and less like a farmer. The most striking change though, would have been the length I added to my legs.
Behind him rode Lyekal. The smith’s son also carried himself like a soldier now. I noticed a new scar on his chin only slightly visible beneath the stubble he grew to cover it. The sword at his belt was one of the many we had turned out prior to the battle of Havensod. Most likely he had scavenged it from an officer who no longer could use it.
“Hallo!” called Torbridge and I slowed to greet them. I must have made an instinctive motion to my bow because his next words surprised me. “You’ve no need to draw against soldiers of the empire, lad. Can you direct me to the farm of Master Delvin?” I pointed back the way I had come and then he recognized me.
“Scratch, my lad, I’m amazed to see you alive and well. His lordship the governor requests your company.” He motioned to his soldiers to surround me and I offered no resistance.
I saw no point to struggling. I couldn’t fight all of them, and I knew that Pascalli and Iven were relatively close. When they missed me they would come and get me. “Hello, captain,” I said. “Hello, Lyekal. I’m glad to see the army has treated you well.” Lyekal avoided my eyes and kept quiet.
“I’ve been sent to help some farmer that complains about missing chickens,” muttered Torbridge. “Do you know anything about it?”
“They were also missing their children,” I replied. “I found their daughter this morning. We killed the creature earlier. You’ve nothing left to do here.”
“It’s too far to ride back tonight. Where can I find this farmer?”
I turned my mount and they followed me back to the farmstead. Delvin stepped onto the porch to watch us. I let Torbridge take the lead as we approached.
“We’ve had reports of chickens killed in the area,” said Torbridge. “I understand the creature was caught and killed.”
“That’s right,” said Delvin. “You’ve arrived too late to save my son, though the young master brought back our daughter.”
“We’ll need to stay tonight,” said Torbridge. “We can stay in the barn. Bring supper when it’s ready.”
Delvin nodded. “Is the lad to stay as well?” he asked.
“Dunroust, the imperial regent has requested his company,” replied the captain. “We’re to escort him to Havensod.”
Delvin nodded again, but his eyes jumped to mine and I knew he didn’t trust the captain’s story. “We’ve just prepared a meal. Come inside and join us.”
We took the horses into the barn and stabled them carefully. Torbridge had lost none of his exactness for his personal care and grooming. His boots shined as brightly as ever. Most soldiers of the Eastern Watch dressed only as well as they could afford. Most seldom shaved or even bathed. Except for a bit of stubble on their faces Torbridge’s men appeared as groomed as courtiers. I followed them slowly back into the farmhouse.
“I’ve found the bowls we keep for special guests,” said Jiora. “I see you’ve traveled far, captain. Would you and your men care for some of our blackberry wine? Delvin put it up himself a few summers back. We don’t often get visitors here.”
“Thank you,” said Torbridge. “I’m sure we will be delighted.”
“There’s only so much as can go around, I’m afraid, my dear,” she said to Delvin. “Just enough for the soldiers.”
“Not to worry, love. Summer will be here soon enough and I shall make some more.”
The meal passed peacefully though the conversation was strained throughout. Torbridge saw that I received water, though his men finished the last drop of the wine.
“Have you heard anything of Wess?” I asked Lyekal as we finished the meal. “I’ve had little news since the battle.”
Lyekal glanced at Torbridge, but the captain seemed caught up in his wine. “We were separated when the fighting started. We were among the first ranks to meet the Kaarum. Most were killed in the initial attack. Others became stranded in the middle. Only a few escaped when the ground began to swallow everything in sight. Nobody has seen anything of Wess. He was presumed dead or deserted, which is the same thing.”
“Any news from Dunston? I’ve not had a chance to visit,” I said.
“Neither have I,” replied Lyekal. “I left for good. Soldiering is good work, and profitable too when it comes to that. I’ve set by a few coins and I’ve a girl in Havensod now. You were a fool to leave. Word is you’re wanted now.”
“That’s enough, corporal.” Torbridge cut in. “Scratch’s business with the lord regent is not your business, nor is it mine. He is our guest. I see you’re still riding the same horse you bought in Havensod last summer.”
“We had no time or chance for breaking new mounts,” I said. I felt he was hunting information, but I had little enough to tell. “I’ve been busy these past markets.”
“Of course,” replied Torbridge. “Learning a new trade is hard work. How is Iven? I see you are alone at the moment.”
“He’ll be along to fetch me soon enough,” I said.
“I thought he would take you straight home to Anascrag. He seemed anxious to return to his forge.”
“We had business to settle here first. An old debt.” Torbridge raised a questioning eyebrow. I knew he didn’t believe me, but he remained curious. “I’ve learned a fair amount in our travels, though. The forge can be cruel master.” I looked into Lyekal’s eyes. “It can also be very profitable.”
“As I’ve explained to the corporal, there is always profit in war,” said Torbridge. “Courage and a steady hand will always bring honor and glory to those strong enough to overcome.”
“I don’t see the good that comes from men dying,” I said.
“There is more to fighting a war than killing. You’ve an opportunity to see that now. Havensod was horrible. I won’t deny that, but it was also a chance for those strong enough to survive. I’ve the ear of the regent now, and the means to help you become a great man if you want it.”
“You and your men must be tired,” interrupted Jiora. “See they’re already nodding. You’ll want to make an early start, no doubt. There’s plenty of room in the barn, though the hay’s not as fresh as one might like. With all the trouble we’ve had, a few chores remain unfinished.”
Torbridge remembered his manners. “Thank you my good lady. You’ve served us better than I would ever have imagined. I am certain we will be perfectly comfortable in the barn and I hope the intrusion will not be too great.”
After consuming far more than the farm could afford, the soldiers wandered into the barn. One by one they drifted off while I looked into the mountains, wondering what had happened to Pascalli and Iven. In the morning the soldiers continued to sleep long after I awoke at my usual time before the sun began to stir. I wandered over to the farmhouse and found Delvin waiting for me.
“They should sleep until mid-day at least,” explained Delvin.
“He’ll be angry when he finds out,” I warned. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’ve given us life and purpose again, my boy. If ever you need a friend, you can find one here.”
He brought out my horse and saddle. Jiora met me with a bit of bread and butter to take with me. She hugged me as she would her own son and kissed me on the forehead. “Come back again when you have a chance, my dear,” she said.
Pascalli and Iven met me only a short way along the road.
“Iven told me you chased something into the brush. I’m glad it didn’t eat you.” He laughed.
“Delvin and his family are nice people,” I replied. “But Torbridge came looking for the creature. He’s still sleeping in their barn.”
“I imagine it won’t go well when he wakes up,” said Iven. “That man has ambitions, and you’re a key to some of them.”
I noticed that the smith led a mule, and it had been packed with a couple of bags. “You bought supplies?” I asked.
“The beast had a small treasure,” replied Pascalli. “Iven and I have put aside a share for you, and the farmer was generous enough to sell us a few things.”
“I would like to leave some with Delvin. Torbridge has already taken more from them than they could afford, and without their son, planting will be hard.”
“I’ll swing back around later,” said the wizard. “I don’t think you should see Torbridge again just now. You’ve done well, Scratch, but let’s not push luck beyond its limits.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
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