by Brian Murray
Dax’s voice changed, becoming cold, as cold as ice. “You will stand next to me on the wall today, or go. If you are not there I will lead the men and say you have been taken sick. But believe me, when this is over I will seek retribution.”
Zane’s eyes widened.
“Yes, your Highness, that is a threat. These men deserve the Prince of the Rhaurns at their side, not some frightened child. Now pluck up your courage and let’s go.”
Dax turned and stormed out of the room, his mood thunderous. He bumped into Thade.
“Hey Dax, have you broken your fast?”
“Leave me be, boy,” barked the older warrior, his eyes hooded.
“What’s wrong, my friend?”
In a cold, hoarse whisper Dax announced, “Our prince wants to leave. He wants to run. Well, let the child flee.” The old warrior stomped off, cursing.
Thade stood in shock for a moment, then realised that Dax must have given the prince a talking to. Knowing just how those talks could affect a man, he went to the prince’s office. He entered the room without knocking and saw the prince packing his equipment.
“So Dax was right, you are running,” said Thade, surprised.
“Thade, I can’t take any more of this.”
“Zane, sit down,” Thade said softly.
“Dax is right, I am a frightened child and the men do not deserve to see me like this.”
“Zane, let me tell you a story.”
“I have no time for stories Thade . . .” The prince continued to pack.
“Sit down!” stormed Thade.
The prince looked at Thade, venom in his eyes and his hand on his sword hilt.
“Do not even think about it, Zane, I was a master in the gladiatorial arenas and in a heartbeat I could kill you where you stand. Now sit down . . . please . . .”
Zane slowly sat down, his eyes fixed on Thade.
“Here is my story. Once I have finished you can leave or stay, but listen to my story first . . .”
***
“There was a man, a great warrior, who gave up his weapons for love. The man had been a mighty warrior and was well respected in the army. But he gave it all up for love. One day, after three years of happy marriage, the man’s wife suddenly died – a weak heart, the healers told the warrior. He had no babes so he left his home and wandered the land grief stricken. He finally ended up in the arenas of Phadrine. The man fought with no defence; a man who wanted to die, that was clear from his fighting style. Anyway, this gladiator fought as champion, Gladiator Prime, for years, and was never defeated. Finally, he gave up the arena and went travelling again, but this time as a rich man.
After many years, he met a boy fleeing from the Sekkers. The boy pleaded with the man to help him. The warrior shrugged his shoulders and asked why. The boy said he would die if he did not get help. The warrior said, ‘you have to face your enemies and your fears and if you die, you die’. The boy was crying and the warrior slapped him across the face. ‘Do not cry boy, why do you cry?’ The boy explained the men chasing him were Sekkers, the best there were. The warrior smiled at the boy and said, ‘If I fight, will you fight beside me, or will you run like a frightened child? I, too, was a frightened child once, but I faced my fears.’ The boy said he would not run if the warrior fought beside him. So they waited in silence for the Sekkers to arrive.
Shortly before dusk, the Sekkers arrived at their camp. Six of them there were, as they always travel in hunting packs of six. The warrior rose and greeted the men. ‘Why do you seek the boy?’ he asked.
‘He is our property, so stand aside.’
‘What makes the boy your property?’
‘We clothed him, fed him, and trained him. That makes him ours.’
‘And the boy has no say?’
‘No.’
‘Well, here’s the deal, if the boy defeats one of you in single combat, he will be free to go.’
The Sekkers laughed and agreed. The warrior walked over to the boy and whispered. ‘This is your chance to face your fears. If you defeat your fears, you can beat him. Are you ready?’
The boy looked up into the man’s gleaming, violet eyes and smiled. But when he peered over the warrior’s shoulder and saw the Sekkers, his smile vanished. ‘Boy the only way you can live is to defeat your fears.’
So the boy, with sword in hand, stepped up to the Sekker, and within seconds the man was dead. It was a lucky strike, but nevertheless, the boy proved victorious. The warrior drew his short battle-axes and told the others the boy had won his freedom. The Sekkers left, taking their dead comrade with them.
The warrior approached the boy and looked into his eyes. The boy started crying and shaking uncontrollably. ‘You’ve done it, boy. You have faced your fears. A man cannot ask for more. Now, where do you travel?’ The boy did not know, and continued to cry.”
***
Thade smiled fondly at the memory. “Dax and I have been friends ever since.”
“What’s your point?” asked Zane, staring at Thade.
“Dax is right, Zane. You have to face your fears to become a better man, a whole man. I faced my fears and in the past, Dax faced his as well. Every man at some stage in his life has to confront his doubts. That time, for you, is now. Dax likes you and would travel to the Mines of Moranton and back on your command. But he doesn’t like men who do not face their fears. He will be there for you, as he was for me, and no harm will come to you. Trust the old man and be on the wall.”
The prince said nothing, but looked into Thade’s eyes, which mirrored his own grey orbs.
“I will leave you now, and hope to see you on the wall come the alarm.” Thade rose and left the room.
Zane stared blankly at the closed door, his emotions in turmoil, tears rolling free.
***
The attack alarm clanged, disturbing the icy quiet. Dax and Thade waited at the centre of the northern wall. Thade kept looking over his shoulder to see if Zane would come.
“Boy, he will or will not come.”
“Who will or will not come, Dax?”
Dax turned to see Zane standing between himself and Thade.
“Lad, you made the right decision,” said Dax, suppressing a proud smile.
“I hope so, my friend.”
Zane turned, faced Thade, and smiled. “Thank you, Thade.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
The three friends stood together at the centre of the northern wall as the Kharnacks charged, carrying crudely made ladders and ropes with grappling irons tied on the end. Soon the first ladder thudded against the wall and grappling irons went sailing over the rampart. The Rhaurn archers opened fire and wave after wave of iron-tipped arrows filled the air, landing on the ground, or lodging in Kharnack flesh. The defenders prepared themselves as the Kharnacks started to climb their ladders and ropes. Within minutes, the clansmen breached the defences and fought on the rampart.
Thade fought two Kharnacks with his two short swords, then moved backwards to give himself some room, and attacked.
Dax stood tall with his two death-dealers. Nothing stood in his path for long, as he swung his weapons.
Zane battled a Kharnack warrior, getting pushed back. Then he slipped on the stone rampart and fell heavily on his back.
The Kharnack warrior struck down.
Zane rolled to his right, as sparks leapt up where the blade clashed against the stone rampart. The warrior pulled back, ready to strike down again.
Crunch. As the Kharnack’s blade started to arc down, one of Dax’s death-dealers thudded into his back. The Kharnack fell beside the prince, his sword clattering from the stone rampart. Dax helped the prince to his feet and without any comment, he charged back into the fray. Zane retrieved his sword and followed him.
***
From below the wall, Shalamar, the Kharnack chieftain of the Flat Peak Clan, watched the fighting above. He quickly realised the smaller man was someone important. With purpose, the huge chieftain climbed one of the l
adders and reached the rampart. He drew his curved tulwar and with some of his clansmen around him, charged head on, aiming for the shortest of the three warriors.
***
Dax recognised the Kharnack chieftain when he reached the rampart, and knew the clansmen would gain extra momentum if he remained on the wall. Dax needed to reach the chieftain. But too many fighting men blocked his path – one of them was Zane.
***
Zane killed a Kharnack clansman, and turning to seek another opponent, saw a huge curved blade arched towards his head. Zane raised his blade and only just managed to deflect the blow. Swallowing his fear, he stared at the huge warrior who faced him.
Around the Kharnack chieftain, clansmen defended his flanks and back, leaving him free to fight the young prince. Fear rose from deep in Zane’s stomach as he saw the Kharnack smile broadly. Dax’s words drummed through Zane’s mind, but his body wanted to flee; he wanted to jump from the wall and run.
A Rhaurn defender stepped in front of Zane to help him. The Kharnack slashed at the Rhaurn soldier twice, sending him barrelling from the stone rampart. The clamour of battle swallowed the Rhaurn’s dying scream. The chieftain raised his sword again.
Zane watched in horror, his arm and legs as heavy as lead.
***
Dax killed another Kharnack and glanced through the fighting at Shalamar. Both Thade and he battled too far away to help the prince – Zane stood on his own.
Another Kharnack attacked Dax. Dax deflected the blow with one axe and hacked out with the other. The blade tore through the clansman’s neck and a fountain of blood spurted from the wound, splattering Dax. Nonchalantly, Dax swatted the clansman aside, sending him tumbling from the battlement.
***
Something inside Zane fanned the flames of rebellion, as he looked down at the dead Rhaurn. But before another thought entered his mind, Zane raised his sword and swiftly deflected the killing blow the Kharnack chieftain tried to deliver.
“I am Prince Zane of the Rhaurns and you will not pass!” he screamed defiantly.
Shalamar smiled, showing his yellow teeth. “Well met, Zane of the Rhaurns. But it is now time for you to die,” he replied in broken Rhaurn.
The Kharnack chieftain gripped his sword in both hands, screamed a battle cry, and attacked Zane. Rather than defend himself, Zane ducked under the man’s wild swing and slashed his sword diagonally upwards, against Shalamar’s chest. Zane felt his blade grind against the Kharnack’s ribs and he turned to face his foe.
Shalamar grunted and looked down at his chest, then into the young Rhaurn’s grey eyes. All fear had disappeared from the Rhaurn’s eyes. The chieftain realised his mistake. He had underestimated his foe.
Zane stood motionless, waiting for the Kharnack to attack again. The huge warrior held Zane’s gaze and nodded slightly. The prince returned the nod, and then the two men clashed. Zane cut high with his curved sword. The Kharnack chieftain blocked Zane’s attack, and counterattacked, aiming low for Zane’s groin. Zane leapt back and knocked the curved sword to one side. Rolling his wrist upwards, he continued the movement, slashing high and across, then down the Kharnack’s body.
The momentum of the attack luckily forced Zane down into a crouch. The gleaming tulwar whistled over Zane’s head as the chieftain tried to decapitate him. Zane stood quickly, his sword ready in front of him, stepping close to his opponent.
Shalamar had been cut across the collarbone – a finger width from his neck, and diagonally across his torso. He tried to hack the Rhaurn’s head off but the young man ducked under his swing – his last mistake. The young Rhaurn rose quickly. Shalamar felt the Rhaurn’s cold steel blade puncture his skin and slice through his insides. Shalamar dropped his tulwar, his eyes widening in disbelief.
How could someone so small kill me? thought the chieftain.
He looked into Zane’s grey eyes as he lay dying. In those eyes the chieftain saw controlled madness, verging on the edge of insanity. Slowly, the Kharnack chieftain twisted, then fell backwards and off the rampart.
For a brief moment there was a lull in the fighting, as many of the Kharnacks watched Shalamar’s body pitch over the wall. Below, six warriors picked up the body of the chieftain and carried it back to their camp. All around the outpost the Kharnacks stopped fighting. Then a cry went up. The clansmen attacked with added ferocity, concentrating on the three friends on the northern wall. The Kharnacks threw everything into the attack, but the Rhaurns stayed firm and held their ground.
No one noticed when the snow started to fall. Large, white virgin flakes floated down from the heavens and rested peacefully on the ground around the battle. Then finally, close to dusk, came the loud blast of a horn and the Kharnacks retreated.
On the northern wall, the Rhaurns cheered. For yet another day, they had defended their outpost. Zane raised his sword in defiance and around him the men shouted and cheered. He faced the retreating Kharnacks and screamed,
“I am Prince Zane of the Rhaurns, remember my name, as it will be the bane of your lives. I will not give in and I will not run. We are here to stay and you’ll have to kill every man here before we surrender. We will NOT surrender!”
The Rhaurns cheered louder, all raising their swords. “Prince Zane, Prince Zane,” they shouted over and over again.
Zane remained on the wall and turned to face Dax, who calmly strolled through the euphoric Rhaurns.
“Thank you, Dax. I have faced and conquered my fears.”
Dax dropped to one knee. “Now, your Highness, you are the man I will follow.”
Zane touched Dax on the shoulders with his sword and said, “Rise Dax, Warlord for Prince Zane.”
Dax smiled and rose. “That’s not necessary. I am a fighter, not a leader.”
“I beg to differ, my friend, you’re a leader of men. Raise your axes and listen.”
Dax raised his death-dealers and to his surprise received a cheer equal to the one Zane had received.
“Rhaurns!” bellowed Dax proudly.
“Dax, we salute you!”
The friends left the wall with men patting them on the back. In the compound, the huge soot-blackened figure of Gammel emerged from the forge and ambled towards them, wiping his hands on a filthy rag.
“What’s the noise all about?” asked the blacksmith, shivering as the icy cold seized him.
“The men now know they can win. They truly have their pride back,” Dax informed him proudly.
“I never doubted you boys. Now your Highness, I have a gift for you.”
“For me?” Zane frowned at hearing his formal title again.
“Yes. Dax was concerned, as you have only a cavalry sword. It does not fit your stature or your fighting style. So I have created a little something for you,” said Gammel with a wry grin. He turned, walked back into his forge and emerged moments later carrying something wrapped in coarse fabric. He dropped down on one knee. “Sire, here is a gift for you from Gammel, Forge Master of the Duchy of Evlon.”
Zane took the bundle, looking and feeling rather embarrassed. Men started to gather around the group. Zane untied the twine and unwrapped his gift. His eyes lit up when he saw twin swords and matching dagger inside. He carefully placed the bundle on the floor and picked up the two short swords.
“I have been watching your fighting style with Dax and concluded that you would fight better with two swords. Thade and Tanas are masters of dual sword combat and have agreed to hone your skills.”
Zane stood with his mouth gaping, staring at the two short swords. The blades were made from folds of metal and the hilts bound strips of brown leather, with the royal crest etched into the base.
“Zane, it’s also a ‘thank you’ for saving my life.”
“Rise please, my friend.”
Gammel stood up, towering over the Prince. Zane stabbed the blades into the earth and stepped between them.
“I have not seen anything as beautiful or as well-balanced. I . . . I thank you for my gift. You h
ave a skill that’s second to none and I salute you.” Zane took another step forward and hugged the burly man for a long moment. He stepped back. “I have my warlord and now I have my armourer.”
Zane picked up his swords and raised them to the crowd, who cheered again.
A woman stepped forward through the crowd and handed Zane a sword harness of baked leather lined with wool for padding.
Zane smiled and kissed the woman, who blushed in response. “Thank you, my friends,” he said, his eyes misting. He hurried off before embarrassing tears flowed.
In his office, like an excited child, Zane could not wait to put on his harness and swords. He found the sheath for his dagger and stood in front of a full-length mirror, smiling at his reflection.
“Now you see what you mean to people,” said Dax, leaning against the doorframe.
“These gifts are the grandest I have ever received. Given to me by true friends.” Zane turned to Dax and the older man saw the sparkle of true happiness in the prince’s eyes.
“And you remember that.”
“I will wear these with pride for all eternity.”
“That’s good to hear. Now, listen, Zane, the Kharnack you killed on the wall was Shalamar, Chieftain of the Flat Peak Clan, one of the biggest clans. The Kharnacks will want revenge for the death of their chieftain. It is a blood debt to them and only blood will satisfy the debt. They will attack again and attack with added purpose.”
“What do we do?”
“We will have to ensure the outpost is patrolled day and night. We cannot afford to relax – they will want blood and lots of it.”
The attack alarm sounded from the courtyard, surprising both men.
“They don’t give up, do they?” muttered Zane with a sigh.
“It seems not.”
The two men left the office and walked out into the snow.
“Sire!”
“Yes, Captain Waid.”
“They’re attacking on all sides and we’re spread very thin.”
Zane looked at Dax for advice and the older man smiled knowingly. “Captain Waid, we will need a steady head leading the reserves tonight. You’d better stay with them and ensure they only charge in a dire emergency.”
