by Brian Murray
“I woke up with a wet cloth on my brow and those large eyes looking down at me – perfect blue eyes. I jerked up into a sitting position and promptly fainted. The next morning I woke again and rose more gingerly. Dozing in a chair at the foot of the bed was the maid from my dreams. She woke, smiled, and I melted. We married two months later.” Tears rolled down from Gammel’s eyes. “After my father died, I took over the forge and within a year we were blessed with the arrival of our princess. She had her mother’s eyes, smile, and thank the heavens, none of my looks. For four years, we remained the happiest family in Evlon. I am proud of my kin, but gone they are now. Love and happiness was taken from me and I cannot wait to meet them again.” Gammel’s voice broke. Dax sat in silence, waiting and pouring more ale.
“My friend, I now know your family, and you as a man. I like what I have heard. You now have a brother-in-arms. I will not rest until you have your vengeance. However, I will not be party to you joining your family and I will stop you if I have to. You fight like a madman and I will be there to protect you. I will not stand in your way when vengeance needs to be delivered. If you don’t achieve your mission, I will deliver your wrath on this man myself. Tell me his name, so I may mark it on my soul.”
“Polalic,” spat Gammel.
“Well, this Polalic is now a dead man walking.”
“Thank you, Dax.”
“Now let’s drink ourselves to Moranton, and talk of better times.”
Gammel and Dax laughed and joked in the kitchen until dawn, sharing stories, and drinking ale. A bond formed between the warrior and the blacksmith, a bond that easily became friendship. After four casks of ale, they both fell into a deep, drunken slumber, slumped with outspread arms over the kitchen table.
***
Like the baron and Cara, Gan-Goran left after the meal, and wandered through the woods around Thade’s home. The Divine One’s magic was strong here, pouring from the rich soil into lush green plant life, and he felt at peace. But something troubled the magic master, and he was not sure what it was. After a while, the old man found a spot under an aged, heavily knotted tree that had recently been struck by lightning. He placed his hand on the tree trunk and closed his eyes. His hand started to glow as he silently chanted a healing spell. Immediately, the scorch marks on the tree faded and the once dead branches started to bud. Soon the whole damaged area was bathed in a golden glow of healing. After a short while, Gan-Goran opened his eyes and looked at his work. In the moonlight, he smiled at the fully healed tree. Where dead limbs had been, now grew brown, healthy, leaf-filled ones.
“Well done,” came a scornful voice from behind Gan-Goran, accompanied by a slow, mocking, handclap. “I see your pitiful magic can heal a tree.”
The old magic master recognised the voice, but did not turn round.
“The tree is not as old as us, but it deserved some help.”
“Help?!” sneered the other voice.
“Aye,” replied Gan-Goran, now turning to look in a pair of red eyes, which danced with malevolence.
“We cannot talk here, come to the Paths.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Gan, come for old time’s sake.”
The two red eyes slowly faded and Gan-Goran felt he was alone again. In spite of any misgivings, Gan-Goran sat down, cross-legged, under the canopy of the healed tree. He closed his eyes and placed himself in a trance, releasing his soul to travel along the Paths of Time.
***
The Paths of Time was an astral plane between the realm of the mortals and immortals; a place where the conscious mind could not travel and only great magic masters could send their souls – to see the past, or the swirling mists of the future.
Gan-Goran arrived on the Paths of Time to be faced by a golden-haired young man.
“That’s the Naats I remember.”
Naats Flureic ignored his comment. “I knew you were at the Grey Castle but I decided to let you live. You know you do not have the power to stop me.”
Gan-Goran smiled. “You sensed my magic.”
“Aye, as if it were my own.” A moment of uneasy silence followed.
“What do you want, Naats?”
“I want you here.” Suddenly, all around Gan-Goran and Naats Flureic appeared warriors cloaked in black.
“You tricked me,” said Gan-Goran, with true surprise in his voice.
Naats Flureic laughed aloud. “You will never learn, Gan, and I will never change. My master will again walk our realm and I will win.”
Gan-Goran silently recited a spell but did not utter the word of power, instead waiting.
“I cannot allow you to do that,” he said. “You have tried to trick many people and kill even more. You must be stopped.”
“You have tried and failed to stop me in the past,” sneered Naats. “What makes you think you can succeed now? You are pitiful and should have joined me when you had the chance.”
“I will never join you and follow the Path.”
The two men fixed their eyes upon each other, the tension thickening. The warriors around them waited for the command.
“You cannot beat me,” hissed Naats menacingly.
“We will see, brother.”
Gan-Goran uttered a word of power and pointed towards the warriors. The air around him became charged with static and from his fingers a white bolt flew out, hitting the nearest warrior. The struck warrior instantly disappeared, whilst the others raised their shields.
The golden-haired Naats Flureic smiled; he knew he would win. The Darklord chanted a spell and from his fingers black bolts flew towards Gan-Goran.
Instantly, Gan-Goran raised his hands and an invisible force field shimmered around him, but the ferocity of the Darklord’s lightning attack pushed him back. Ducking down into a crouch, Gan-Goran stretched out his hand, firing more white lightning towards Naats.
The Darklord raised his defensive shield, deflecting the while bolts harmlessly away. Then he started his counterattack. More black bolts danced around Gan-Goran as he desperately tried to hold his weakening protective force field. The Darklord intensified his attack and his eyes danced with delight as he pushed his hands forward, sending more crackling black lightning streaking from his fingers.
Gan-Goran’s strength began to wane, but he continued to defend himself. He knew he had to get back to his physical body. He started the spell, as the black-clad warriors were ordered forward. Gan-Goran struggled to hold his shimmering protective cocoon while at the same time reciting another spell. He smiled grimly, as sweat glistened on his bald cap. He had nearly finished the spell . . .
The black-garbed warriors loomed closer.
***
“What the hell is going on here?” fumed Cara as she entered her kitchen.
Dax stirred and managed one sentence, one he hoped he had only thought and not said aloud. “The woman with the tongue like a whip and words of fire arrives!”
Gammel laughed at the comment, but quickly regretted it as his head began to pound.
“Funny eh?! I don’t think this mess is funny. Well, you two can now get your carcasses off my table and chop some firewood. Go and earn your breakfast. Move!”
Dax managed to raise his head and open his black-ringed, bloodshot eyes. This was a big mistake; the after effects of ale and jollity stabbed at the back of his eyes and thumped in his head.
At just the wrong moment, Thade strolled into the kitchen, beaming a smile. “Good morning,” he called joyfully.
“Good morning indeed. You get these two scallywags out of my kitchen and you can wipe that smile off your face,” said Cara. “These two are going to chop some wood and you can get your arse into town and get me some fresh provisions.”
Thade’s mouth dropped open.
“Don’t even start with those innocent puppy eyes. Now move, all of you, I have a lot to do. You . . .” she said, pointing to Gammel.
“Gammel, ma’am,” he said, trying not to move his head.
�
�If I wanted reminding of your name, I would ask it. Just remove that carcass of a man out of my kitchen and don’t return until both of you are sober and have chopped my wood.”
“But . . .”
“Just get!” she snapped with a frown.
Gammel instinctively knew better than to argue.
Outside in the bright morning sunlight, Thade chastised Dax. “What were you thinking, Dax? Now she’s in a bad mood,” snarled Thade, his own good mood swiftly evaporating.
“Bad mood, is that what you call it,” grumbled Gammel, rubbing his head.
Ignoring Thade, Dax walked to the well and drew a full bucket of water. He removed his tunic and his gold chain that twinkled in the sunlight. He poured the cool water over his head, then stalked back to Thade, smiling. “Did you complete your run this morning?”
“Yes,” answered Thade proudly, “my fastest yet.”
Smack! Dax sent a thunderous right punch that connected with Thade’s jaw. Thade’s body left the ground, flew backwards, and landed with a thud on the dusty ground. “Well, I cannot let you start the day without your lesson.”
“What was that for?!” asked Gammel, astonished.
“Oh, he’s training, recovering from a fever, and lesson one – respect your elders.”
“Dax, you brute!” shouted Cara from the kitchen. “I needed him to go to town for supplies.”
“That woman will be the death of me,” muttered Dax, shaking his head, instantly regretting doing it. He drew another bucket of water from the well and poured it over Thade.
Thade woke up spluttering and rubbed his aching jaw. Dax reached forward to help him up. Thade grabbed Dax’s wrist and was helped to his feet.
“Cara needs you to go to town,” said Dax.
“I know.”
“Well, be gone.”
***
Ireen arrived in the kitchen in time to see Thade fly through the air. She gasped, holding her hands over her open mouth. Cara turned giggling, “Fear not, maid, that’s just their manly morning ritual. Thade does his morning run and then spars with Dax. Well, actually it’s more of a one-sided fight, since his illness.” Turning to the open back door she called, “Dax, you brute! I needed him to go to town for supplies.”
“He never told me he was ill. Was it serious?” asked Ireen, her face full of concern.
“It nearly took him,” admitted Cara, “but my boy is a strong one and with help from Dax and me, he is pulling through.” Ireen heard the love in the older woman’s voice.
“You and Dax are close to him?”
“You could say that.” After thinking for a moment, Cara continued, “He is the son I wanted my boys to be, and Dax has his own reasons. I would not say it to his face and he would never admit it, the gruff, old mule, but I think he loves the boy like a son.” Cara paused, then stalked to the back door. “Dax, you miserable cuss, I need some firewood. Don’t start your cursing and get. Oh and take that big idiotic lump with you, he looks like he can swing an axe,” she shouted, referring to Gammel.
Ireen smiled. “Cara, is there something I can help you with?”
“You, a princess? I think not, what would your father say?”
“Here I am not a princess, nor a guest, just Ireen, your friend.”
“Just a friend to Thade as well. He’s a good lad, that one, and he deserves the best,” said Cara with a mother’s protective glare. “He needs someone who will look after him. He’s not a servant or a slave and needs a woman who will treat him like a man and act the way a woman should, not one that acts like a spoiled rich maiden who wants a plaything. I don’t judge, but he deserves the best.”
“I know.”
“Good, now you can clear the table and bring in the dishes from the dining room.”
Ireen walked up to Cara and kissed her on the cheek. “I mean to treat him right, but it is my father who will have the final say.”
“Don’t you break his heart. He speaks fondly of you and would do anything for you. Do not take advantage of him. As for your father, I’ll deal with him.”
“I will not hurt Thade, and good luck with my father.”
“You’d better not hurt him or you will have to face me. I don’t care if you’re a princess, I will tan your arse if you hurt my lad.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Cara smiled. “Now that we understand each other, be off and do your chores.”
Ireen headed for the dining room.
Moments later Rowet entered the kitchen, rubbing his shaved head.
“What’s this, a bleeding main road to the capital?” snapped Cara with exasperation.
“I’m sorry, Lady Cara, I was looking for a drink.”
“I am not your lady, it is just Cara.”
“I stand corrected, Cara. And thank you for the meal last night, it was the best.”
Cara brushed off the compliment. “Sit yourself down, we need to talk.”
“We do?”
“Yes,” retorted Cara, a bit more sharply than intended. Passing a goblet of fresh apple juice to the Phadrine Emperor, she sat down opposite him and spoke in a hushed tone. “Now you know there is a thing going on between my Thade and your daughter.”
“You are not Thade’s mother.”
“That doesn’t matter,” snapped Cara, “the lad means everything to me since I lost my own family.”
“I am sorry for your loss, truly.”
“Thank you. I mourn your loss also.”
“Thank you. All I have left is my Ireen. Her welfare is vital to me, and with all due respect, I will not have her marrying a gladiator.”
“He’s no longer a gladiator, but a respected landowner.”
“But to my people he’ll always be a gladiator, and as things are progressing, I will not have the future empress of the Empire married to a gladiator.” Rowet tried to keep his voice friendly, but an edge of coldness was audible.
“That’s fair enough, but give the lad a chance. He has changed and has matured into a proud and gifted man.”
“We will see.”
“Give him a chance,” repeated Cara sternly.
“Morning, Father,” said Ireen as she entered the kitchen, her arms full of dirty dishes. Seeing her father’s disapproving face, she walked up to him, kissed him on the cheek, and smiled. “I’m helping Cara with the mess. We have to help our friends, as they have helped us – it’s only fair.”
There was that smile again, his daughter’s smile and he instantly mellowed.
“I will help you,” he said proudly.
“Good, I have left some in the dining room.”
Rowet rose and looked at Cara, who had moved to help Ireen with the dishes. “Cara, what we discussed, I will think on it.”
“Thank you.” Cara helped Ireen with the dishes, then cried, “Don’t you drop anything.”
Crash! The sharp sound of breaking crockery echoed throughout the house, mixing with the sound of high-pitched laughter screeching from the kitchen.
***
Tanas woke in one of Thade’s guesthouses, with Megan’s arms wrapped around him. He moved to get up and a low moan came from Megan. He smiled. He could not remember inviting Megan back to his room, but he was happy she was there, for he had never known joy as he now felt.
Then his thoughts turned sour as he remembered the Sekkers who had followed him after the accident. The blind warrior remembered the man who had taunted him; the villager who had turned against him, and how he had had to kill him and flee.
How soon they forgot . . .
He had tackled bandits who sought protection money from the villagers. ‘The hero Tanas’, they had called him, and he was welcomed in every house. But the village leader grew jealous of Tanas’s popularity. One evening he got drunk and challenged Tanas to a duel, for leadership. The village had been celebrating outside the hall, and all were merry on local ale and wine. Without hesitation, Tanas refused the challenge, as he neither wanted to fight nor become their leader. But the man, Ry
mre, wanted blood and attacked Tanas from behind.
At first, all Tanas could do was defend himself. He pleaded with the man, and asked the other villagers to stop him. Then it happened. Rymre suddenly dived at Tanas, and skewered himself on the blind warrior’s blade. A heavy silence hung over the villagers, then his ‘friends’ became a lynch mob, screaming all kinds of accusations. When he heard the words; ‘witchcraft and death’, Tanas fled into the night before more blood was shed – knowing it would not be his. What the villagers did next greatly surprised Tanas – they sought out the bandits, paid them for protection and asked the bandits to employ the Sekkers to hunt down their leader’s ‘murderer’.
***
Tenderly, as Tanas stroke Megan’s golden hair, all his hate, his need for revenge, evaporated. He rose silently to greet the new day. Only then did he realise that he was still dressed from the day before. Quietly, he washed in the basin, changed into a tunic left by Thade, and left the small cabin, taking in a lungful of the crisp, clean morning air. Then it hit him. His head started to throb as he tied his scarf over his eyes. He cringed when he pulled the cloth tight. A dull thumping started behind the eyes and began to move, until his whole head throbbed and he could feel his temples pulsing against the material. To his left he heard the chopping of wood and to his right women chattering, and decided to head in the direction of the voices.
He knocked on a door and waited. “Hello,” he called.
“Other door, Master Tanas.” He recognised Cara’s voice and Ireen’s giggling. There was also a man’s voice he assumed was Rowet. Tanas moved along the wall and found the other door. His bearings were a bit off this morning as his head swam. He had left the house the night before having consumed far too much ale. Never before had he been so drunk.
“Morning,” Tanas croaked, standing in the doorway.
“Now don’t you be standing in my doorway, young man,” Cara said. “You look as if you’ve been through the wars.”
“Too much ale, I think,” admitted the blind warrior sheepishly.
“My friend, I think even though the ale tasted like honey, it must have been brewed in the tunnels of Moranton,” commented Rowet with a smile.
