by Brian Murray
***
He had been told the forest was haunted, but the boy was brave. That night the boy dressed, took his battered wooden sword and sneaked out of the house. He crossed the field towards the forest, his chest out and his gait sure. But as he neared the forest, his fears rose and his step faltered. In the eyes of the child, the trees appeared dauntingly huge; everything in the forest seemed bigger and more frightening. The gnarled old trees seemed mean and menacing and the thorn bushes were sent from Hades itself. ‘Pain of fire from Moranton strikes you if you walk into the brambles,’ he had been told.
Fearful now, the boy questioned his bravery, and he stood motionless ten paces from the first huge tree. A mist blurred the knotted trunk of the king of trees, its huge crown, its canopy of leaves glittering gold in the autumn moonlight. The night mist swirled around the boy, who stood frozen to the spot as through the vapour was solid. Then movement to his right caused the boy to jump, and through the mist a horse’s head came into view. A huge stallion stopped a few paces short of the boy and jets of steam puffed from the animal’s flared nostrils as it pawed the ground, its rider hidden within the mist. At that moment, a cloud glided in front of the moon and darkness enveloped the forest. The boy heard the animal step closer and now could feel its hot breath on his face. The cloud passed the moon and the boy saw an armoured warrior on the pale stallion, and his red eyes – then darkness . . .
***
Dax jerked from his reverie, spun and struck Thade on the jaw, sending the younger breathless man flying.
“Not again, I am a boy no more!” roared Dax, the anger in his voice evident. He strode towards Thade, who saw a mixture of fear and hate in the older man’s eyes.
“Dax, what has got in to you?” asked Thade, trying to rise.
Dax reached down and lifted Thade by the throat. Pure, cold hatred dominated his voice when he replied. “Not again, I am not a frightened boy, but a man!”
“Dax,” choked Thade, “it is I, your friend. Dax, please, it is Thade. Dax!” His voice faded as the life was squeezed from his body.
Dax held the man at arm’s length, the muscles in his arms bunched as he continued to squeeze. Thade grabbed Dax’s beard and with his last breath screamed, “Dax, you’re my friend! I am Thade and you are Dax.” Thade’s grip weakened as life seeped from his limbs and then his eyes rolled as he whispered, “We’re friends, Dax. I love you old man, please Dax, it is I, Th . . .”
“I’m not a boy, I am D . . .” Dax’s voice broke and the mist of hatred and madness cleared from his eyes. He looked into Thade’s eyes. Realisation struck Dax, like a god striking him, and washed over him like deafening thunder. “Oh my God!” he whispered and released Thade’s limp body, which collapsed onto the ground at his feet. Dax fell to his knees, rolled Thade onto his back and started to massage his chest. Cursing deeply, Dax continued to rub, his eyes misting with tears.
“Come back to me, boy,” pleaded the older man. “Come back. Dax is sorry. Thade, Dax is sorry.” Tears streaked the man’s face, mixing into his silver streaked beard. But Thade remained lifeless on the ground as fear rose in Dax’s heart.
“NO!” roared Dax. He struck down on Thade’s chest and held his hand over his heart, sobbing. Just then dawn broke, filling the sky with pink clouds – the birth of a new day. Suddenly, Thade’s body jerked and he took in huge lungful of air, then spluttered as he exhaled. “That’s it, boy, come back to Dax. Come back for your old man.” Wiping away tears from his eyes, he smiled as Thade opened his eyes.
“Now boy, have I not told you not to creep up on an old man. Hell, you know how to give an old man a scare.”
Rubbing his bruised throat, Thade hoarsely whispered, “What was that all about, Dax? You nearly killed me! I’ve never seen such hate and anger in you.”
“I’m sorry, Thade.”
“What is it, Dax?”
“I will tell you another time . . . it was just . . . just . . . a bad dream.”
“Well, in that case remind me never to wake you up,” replied Thade, smiling weakly.
“I’m sorry, Thade. You know I would never do anything to hurt you, boy.”
“Forget it, Dax. Let’s put it down to a bad moment. Now can I have some water? My throat feels like it’s full of sand.”
***
The two men broke their fast on hot oats and started the long journey home. Little conversation occurred that morning, after the incident. Thade rode behind Dax, watching the man as he rode down a hill. He rubbed his throat, which was bruised and raw, and shivered, remembering the look in Dax’s eyes. In that moment he had thought he would die, and he almost had. Madness was in his eyes, madness that Thade had never seen before. Something buried deep was seeking release. Dax swung in his saddle and looked back at Thade – as if he knew what the man was thinking. Dax gave a reassuring smile and Thade grinned back. Dax straightened in the saddle and they rode on.
That night, they camped in a hollow just off the main trail, both agreeing they would avoid the nearby village. Thade snared a couple of rabbits and they dined on the sweet meat. Around midnight, Dax silently woke Thade, pressing his index finger against his lips for quiet.
“There’s something wrong, my friend,” whispered Dax.
“What is it?”
“Trouble.”
“Pardon me?” said Thade, confused.
“I have a nose for these things,” replied Dax. Ignoring Thade’s tone, he rose and moved off into the woods.
Thade climbed to his feet, put on his swords, and followed the older man into the woods. Ahead of him he heard Dax call, “Hello to the camp!”
***
Tanas entered the camp, leading his horse. Sensing the mood of the camp, he beamed a smile. “Hello sir, my friend and I were travelling past and wondered if you would be kind enough to share some of your meal? We have coin.”
“And you are?”
“I am a friend, my name is Tanas. Your companion can come out of the shrubs now,” said Tanas, pointing to his left.
The old man smiled. “How do you do that, my friend?”
“That is my secret, as your magic is your own, I would say.”
The old man chuckled with humour. “How did you know I am a magic-master?”
“That is also my secret, but I will tell you this. Essie, my horse, may be a cantankerous old mare but she can find friends miles away.”
“A clever and fine looking animal.”
“Now about your man in the shrubs, sir. I do feel a little nervous with an arrow pointing at me.”
“Ah yes. It is all right. This warrior is a friend, are you not?”
Tanas gave the man his best smile. “Aye, I am neither a raider, a rapist, nor a murderer, sir.”
Megan rose warily from the shrubs and stepped across the hollow to stand next to Gan-Goran.
“I don’t trust him,” whispered Megan, keeping her eyes locked on the newcomer.
“Oh, my apologies ma’am. I thought you a man, how rude of me,” said Tanas, bowing. “Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what, being a killer?” she snapped sharply.
“Oh now ma’am, not for being a killer, for I agree I am. No, for my error, you see I am as blind as a bat. Though I’m sure you look very pretty . . . having all your lumps in the right places, as they say,” answered the warrior, smiling again.
“How long do I have to wait?” asked Ireen, stepping into the hollow next to Tanas.
“Damn you, woman, these people could be murderers. Has that knock on your head taken away all your senses?” snapped Tanas, his smile fading, his voice cold and harsh. Essie snorted her displeasure as Ireen led the two other horses in.
“An old man and a pretty flaxen-haired woman, murderers? I think not, you arrogant man. And keep your beast away from me.” She continued, “Please excuse my rude . . . companion. My name is Ireen, and I would be happy to pay for our meal, if, of course, you have enough.”
“Your Highness, we would be
pleased if you would bless our campfire with your presence. As for paying, I will hear none of it,” answered the old man with a warm smile.
Tanas let go of Essie’s reins and drew his swords, ready. Ireen stood startled for a moment and stammered her response. “How . . . how . . . do you know . . . know me?”
The old man bowed. “I had the pleasure of teaching you some ten years back. How is your father and what brings the Phadrine Princess to our camp with this warrior?”
“Gan-Goran?” she asked.
“It’s nice that you recognise me,” replied the old man, smiling.
“It has been a long time, my friend.”
“Let me introduce you to Megan. Megan, this is Princess Ireen, daughter of the Chosen from the Empire of Phadrine.”
Megan said nothing at first, her mind reeling with shock. “I am pleased to meet you, ma’am,” she said, bowing.
Ireen turned to Tanas. “This man is my friend, well actually my tutor in magic. So put away your blades.”
“Yes, your Holiness, as you command,” replied Tanas sarcastically.
“Essie, come.” The horse ignored her master and walked behind Megan, snuggling into her back, and then started to push the woman forwards towards the warrior.
Megan giggled with laughter as the horse pushed her. The horse gave one last push and Megan collided with Tanas, who still had his swords drawn.
“What are you doing, you stupid animal?” snapped Tanas, irritated. The horse snorted her response, wandered off to a patch grass and started to graze. Tanas felt the closeness of the woman and grew uncomfortable. She had not moved. He blushed as he felt her warm breath against his neck. His throat tightened and words would not come out.
“Look at the mighty Tanas, humbled by the presence of a young woman. Lost for words are you? The mighty Tanas is lost for words,” said Ireen, laughing.
“Damn you, woman,” hissed Tanas, who spun around and stalked from the clearing, leaving a silence hanging over the camp.
Megan spoke first. “You may be a princess, but you’re very rude.”
“Oh, the girl is in love. Love at first sight?”
“Bitch!” snapped Megan, her voice spitting venom. She moved to the pot over the fire and stirred the bubbling stew.
“Come Ireen, tell me your story,” said Gan-Goran, trying to break the tension.
For an hour, Ireen told her story. She cried when mentioning her father’s death and surprisingly spoke admirably of Tanas, and her rescue. Gan-Goran listened in silence, absorbing all the facts.
“. . . And here we are.”
“That man saved your life and that’s how you treat him. All servants, aren’t we,” snapped Megan, who could not understand why Ireen was so angry.
“Yes, you are, and now I will eat,” barked Ireen, ready for an argument.
“Well, your Highness, serve yourself,” sneered Megan, filling two bowls of steaming stew before moving off into the woods.
Ireen was about to toss back a comment, but Gan-Goran lightly squeezed her hand. “Not now, Ireen. She too has lost her husband, to the invader from the north, and she has also recently lost her best friend.”
“That still does not warrant rudeness.”
“Rudeness. I think you are still the same rude, ungrateful, spoilt child I left in the palace. You will not treat Megan with disrespect, she is my friend.”
Ireen sat in shock for a moment. “I am sorry Master Tutor, but I have suffered loss which is causing my rudeness.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“I know,” said Gan-Goran softly, “but you will need friends, friends who will help you.”
“I have few friends in this land and did not have any friends in the palace, except my father and Thade. One left me and the other died.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
“I will say this even though it will hurt. You are selfish, even in your grief. Selfish and self-centred.”
Ireen broke down in tears and leaned on Gan-Goran for support. “You can change and people will like you for yourself. People will not be false to your face because you are a princess. Find yourself, be yourself and you will find people will like you – you, as Ireen.”
The warm tears ran down his tunic as he held the young woman. A child, he thought, lost in a world with no protection, no family and very few friends.
“I’ll try,” she said finally.
“That’s good. Now wipe away your tears, as this old man needs to eat.”
***
Tanas sat gloomily with his back against a moss covered tree trunk. He idly prodded his sword into the ground as he thought about what had happened to him, lost for words, but no idea why. He should not have spoken to Ireen so sharply; instead he should have just brushed away the comment in his usual jolly manner. But the girl caused something to stir in him and he had no idea what it was. He remained sitting with his head bowed, when he heard footsteps approaching.
“If that is you, woman, I do not wish to speak to you.”
“Which woman are you referring to?”
“Um . . .”
“I have brought you some food,” said Megan as she approached the seated warrior.
“Thank you.”
She handed him his bowl, placing it in his outstretched hands. “You’re welcome.”
They ate in silence, Tanas not knowing what to say next.
“My name is Tanas.”
“I know.”
“Oh, yes, I mentioned it earlier.”
“Yes, you did.”
“And you are Megan.”
“Yes, I am.” Silence again hung over the pair.
“I’m sorry, I’m not used to company – not a good conversationalist,” admitted Tanas.
“That’s fine, I needed to get away from that woman.”
“Don’t be hard on her, she has recently lost her father. A great man, she said.”
“And I have lost a husband, my childhood sweetheart. We were married for only one week when he was called for duty and did not return. I also lost my best friend recently, but I am not rude and conceited.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
“Megan, please.”
“Yes, Megan.” There was another silent pause. “Why do you think me a killer?”
“Are you not?”
“Well . . .”
“Yes or no?”
“I have not killed a man who had not tried to kill me.”
“So, you’re not a murderer, but you are a killer.”
Tanas felt sadness like a veil of coldness covering him as he admitted, “Yes.”
“I want you to kill a man,” said the woman without hesitation.
“Pardon me?”
“I want you to kill a man. The man who killed my best friend.”
“Megan,” said Tanas softly, “I only kill people who try to kill me.”
“So you will not do it?”
Tanas thought for a long time before answering. “No.”
“So you’re not a murderer, that is nice to know.”
“Are you testing me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“One should always know who one’s friends are.”
“So we’re friends, yes.”
“Yes, we are.”
Tanas beamed his magical smile. “That’s good. I am friends with two women in the space of a week.”
“She’s your friend?” asked Megan gruffly.
“She has a few good points. Give her time and she will also become your friend.”
“I think not.”
“Do not judge her yet, give her time.”
“Maybe.”
“Good,” he said, happily digging into his stew.
***
Dax entered the camp and saw a large man holding a long broadsword, looking ready for trouble. The dancing fire cast eerie shadows on the trees and the wind gently moved the branches, causing a soothing rustle. The atmosphere in the camp was
unsettled; the tension in the air thick, almost palpable. The large man stood his ground, saying nothing. Leaves rustled behind Dax but he did not turn, for only Thade should be behind him. A dull thud sounded and Thade entered the camp.
“I relieved a man of his bow. Unfortunately for him, it was pointed at your back, my dear friend,” said Thade calmly.
“That man better not be hurt!” hissed the swordsman coldly.
“A lump on the head should be his only pain,” replied Thade.
“Leave our camp.”
Dax now spoke, his voice low and even. “You have entered private lands, what purpose do you have here?”
“That’s for me and my friend to know.”
“At this moment, it is a problem we need to resolve now. We have just moved off some slavers and I do not have patience for idle talk. State your business now or my axes will speak.”
“That’s aggressive talk for an old man,” said the stranger.
“Old man!” hissed Dax, his eyes darkening at the comment. “Like I said, I do not have patience tonight.”
Thade now cut in. “You look like you’ve had a rough time,” he commented, stepping forward. “We didn’t come into your camp to make trouble. However, my friend speaks correctly; we have just moved slavers off my land.”
“I’m no slaver.”
“Well, unfortunately at this time we do not know that, do we?”
“My name is Gammel, and my friend is Baron Chelmsnor of the Duchy of Evlon.”
“Now, what would the baron be doing travelling with just one man?” asked Thade. Silently, Dax moved back towards the shadowy undergrowth.
“Because my Duchy has been razed to the ground,” answered the baron, from behind Thade. Dax turned to face the baron and studied him closely in the poor light.
“They tell the truth, Thade, that is Baron Chelmsnor.”
“Are you sure?”
“You know me, I never forget a face, and this man should know me. But he is missing a hand . . . curious.”
Chelmsnor looked at Dax for a long moment, only seeing his outline as the fire was behind Dax. The baron shifted his position to see Dax’s facial features. “Dax, is that you?”
