Heirs of Vanity- The Complete First Trilogy Box Set

by R J Hanson

  Velryk swung the axe and Roland could only stare in a mixture of shame and terror.

  “Roland!” Eldryn exclaimed.

  Roland jerked awake, covered in sweat.

  “You were screaming,” KyrNyn said. “Are you well?”

  “I can take it for now,” Roland said, shaken.

  Roland took a coffee pot from his pack and began brewing the dark drink.

  “I’ll watch the rest of the night,” Roland said.

  KyrNyn gave Roland an understanding look and everyone else went back to their bedrolls. Roland spent the rest of the night looking toward the whiskey bottle in his pack. He had set his mind that he would not touch it, but it was more of a fight than he anticipated. Roland won the battle, but it was not a battle easily fought. Roland welcomed the sun when it began its journey in the east.

  KyrNyn awoke and walked over to Roland.

  “I’ll remove your helm from Gallis Argenti,” KyrNyn said. “I think you and your friends should be gone when he awakes. I know that he would do no harm to me, but I cannot guarantee the same for you.”

  “You know there are priests in the larger temples that can help him,” Roland said.

  “Yes, but he refuses. He is my friend and I will be here for him, whether he chooses to be healed or not. He is not as bloodthirsty as they say. He just tolerates very little. The price on his head invites fools and with each fool that he kills the bounty rises.”

  “Very well. We will be on our way.”

  Roland and Eldryn gathered their belongings and exchanged looks as they watched Petie helping them break camp. Roland put Petie up in the saddle and then climbed up behind him.

  “Are you reading for a long day, boy?” Eldryn asked Petie.

  “You’ll not find me complaining, Sir Eldryn.”

  “Just Eldryn, Petie, just Eldryn,” Eldryn said as he rustled Petie’s hair.

  The three rode with the rising sun warming their backs.

  Gallis Argenti stirred from his first restful sleep in several years. Years and decades meant little to an elf, unless it was time without meditation or sleep. Gallis’s mind had driven him hard for over twelve years. The only sanity that remained was his friendship with KyrNyn and his love for his cat.

  “What happened, KyrNyn?” Gallis Argenti asked.

  “I think we encountered friends,” KyrNyn said.

  “How can you say that?” Gallis Argenti asked as the lines of strain began to draw themselves around his eyes again. “Surely my rest was a trap. They must be spies.”

  “They did not harm us,” KyrNyn said. “And there was something else.”

  “What?”

  “I found a letter on them,” KyrNyn said. “It was signed by your friend, Lucas. Apparently, he has been returned to the surface of this world from which he vanished so many years ago. The letter called them friends of the house of Thorvol.”

  “Could we have found friends that can be trusted?” Gallis Argenti asked.

  Chapter XI

  The Orphan

  The three rode together for three weeks through the forests and plains of Lethanor and crossed a great river. During their journey Roland and Eldryn both began to respect their adopted traveling companion. They discovered that Petie was quite strong for his size and was actually a very skilled hunter. Roland had taken to instructing the boy in the use of the axe, and Eldryn, being the better swordsman, taught Petie the use of the bastard sword. Petie, no matter how strong, was still small for the actual blade so Roland had carved him a wooden sword to practice with.

  Eldryn began teaching Petie how to ride and the tricks and tactics associated with mounted combat. Roland continued to sleep wearing his helmet.

  Petie also began joining Roland and Eldryn for their morning exercises. They taught him how to stretch and the routines that would develop both his muscles and his balance and speed. They also began to teach him to strengthen other aspects of true warriors.

  Roland had read many books however, his favorite was Arto’s ‘Thoughts on War.’ Roland began telling Petie of the General Arto and of how he took a handful of Great Men, and a small tribe of common men, and conquered league upon league of the lands around the capital now called Ostbier. He told him of how Arto used his mind to fight his enemies as much as his sword, and of how he had time and time again defeated superior numbers in battle through tact and planning. Roland had brought two books with him on his journey, ‘Thoughts on War’ and ‘Philosophy of the Blade.’

  Roland had been very lax in his reading since leaving his home so many months before. However, now he took those books up again, this time not as the student but as the teacher.

  It was a bright morning, and Eldryn had taken Petie on a hunting trip while Roland packed what could be packed of their traveling gear and led the horses to water at a nearby stream.

  As Roland returned to the camp both horses became increasingly nervous. Being trained war horses neither of them made a sound nor fought against Roland’s hand. However, Roland had learned enough about the wild to know that horses usually smelled trouble long before their riders became aware of it. Roland noted their tension now and loosened Swift Blood in its scabbard.

  Roland approached the camp cautiously and saw two demons sniffing through their packs. The first fallen champion was black skinned and stood nearly twelve feet tall. It carried a whip in one clawed hand and had heart red eyes. The second fallen champion was shorter than the first, standing only eight feet tall, with scaly red skin and eyes that were the absences of light. It wielded a barbed mace in one hand and a heavily built crossbow in the other.

  Roland thought of trying to seek out Eldryn and Petie but dismissed the idea. He had heard that demons could run much faster than any man and judging by their height he assumed that they would have an incredible stride. If he started looking for El and Petie the demons might find them first. If he yelled to Eldryn and Petie then he would give up his surprise.

  Therefore, Roland did what he thought to be his only avenue. He called out to Bolvii as he charged the two demons. The red demon loosed a crossbow bolt that struck Roland high on the shoulder and glanced off his armor. The black skinned demon held out his hand and chanted in a foul language. Roland felt the wave of hate wash through his head and then it was gone like a swift spring breeze. The gem on his helm illuminated in a bright green glow.

  Roland feigned toward the red demon, which had dropped his crossbow and taken his mace in both hands, and made his attack toward the black demon bearing the whip. The whip-wielding demon lashed out with the leather instrument of torture and the magically burning weapon slapped against the high top of Roland’s leather boots. The whip wrapped his leg, but the hissing burn did not affect him.

  Roland saw his predicament and changed his attack. He knew that if the creature maintained a hold on the whip that he would be hurled into the air any moment. He called upon the speed of Swift Blood and spun a thrust to the side, turning it to cut toward the black skinned demon’s arm. The blade cleaved the arm in one smooth stroke and the creature cried out and drew away.

  The red skinned demon had an opportunity and seized it. He struck Roland hard on the back with the barbed mace, knocking him to his knees, stunning him.

  The red demon revealed a mouth full of fangs as it smiled in its triumph. The barbed mace came back and then swung forward with vicious force. The mace crashed into the back of Roland’s helm and slapped him hard into the ground. Roland’s eyes rolled as he struggled to hang on to consciousness.

  The black skinned demon had retrieved his whip from the grip of his severed limb. The two demons exchanged knowing smiles as the red demon kicked Roland’s sword from his hand.

  The black demon knelt and wrapped the end of the whip around Roland’s throat. He stood and hauled Roland up to a standing position. Roland struggled to clear his vision while his hands clawed at the choking demon leather.

  The red demon drew back his mace again and laughed. He was beginning his swing whe
n he screamed out in pain. The red demon whirled around to see Eldryn preparing another Roarke’s Ore tipped arrow. The red demon bellowed a stream of curses as it turned and started for Eldryn and young Petie standing next to him. Petie’s iron tipped arrow took the demon in the thigh, but the creature seemed not to care.

  Eldryn prepared the next arrow and its flight was true. The arrow struck the demon in the belly. Flames erupted from the wound as acid spewed from the gash.

  The black skinned demon decided it was time to conclude his business. He lowered his remaining arm and prepared to jerk up, which would tear Roland’s head from his body.

  Roland drew the flaming dagger and slashed at the whip. The leather severed just as the whip had begun to tighten around his throat. The black skinned demon staggered back with the unexpected momentum. Roland struggled to get the writhing end of the whip off his neck.

  Petie stepped forward and loosed another arrow that took the reeling demon in the shoulder. The demon turned toward Petie and scowled.

  Eldryn drew his Shrou-Sheld and charged the creature. There are not many men who are skilled enough with a blade to parry a whip, but Eldryn managed it. As the slithering whip came in to grapple his blade, Eldryn slapped a portion of it, and turned the edge of his blade against the encircling leather. Eldryn cut through the whip and followed up the parry with a devastating attack that cleanly severed the fallen champion’s head. Both creatures began to sizzle and smolder into the ground. Roland finally tore the whip from his throat, leaving a bloody gash where it had attempted to strangle him.

  “Demons? Here?” Eldryn asked.

  “No doubt sent by our well-wishers who come to visit me at night,” Roland replied.

  “That is a demon? That is what they look like?” Petie asked.

  “Yes, Petie, those are demons,” Roland said. “Let this be a lesson well learned. A man that can stand alone is a strong man. However, a man with hidden allies, like you and Eldryn where to me just now, is a dangerous foe indeed.”

  “Spoke Arto,” Eldryn quipped.

  Roland shot Eldryn a disapproving look.

  “Remember this young Petie,” Roland said as he disregarded Eldryn’s sarcastic comment. “Remember that even fallen champions can be defeated if a man is not afraid, and he is skilled with his weapon. An evil man cannot remain against a man that defends the weak, and fights for a just cause and who will not admit defeat. A man that fights for a just cause can never admit defeat for his surrender is his defeat. A just warrior that will not quit will never know defeat, although he may be bested in combat.”

  “I don’t understand,” Petie said.

  “There is no defeat if a man faces evil and dies fighting it,” Roland said. “If a man dies then it is because Fate, in her wisdom, has decided to take him. The only defeat a just warrior could ever know is cowardice. ‘He who lives more lives than one, more deaths than one must die.’ Do you understand now?”

  “I think so,” Petie said. “A coward dies each time he turns to run. A weak warrior dies each time he quits.”

  “You are a smart lad,” Roland said as he placed his hand on Petie’s shoulder. “What is a warrior’s most valuable weapon?”

  “His mind.”

  “And what is a warrior’s most trusted ally?”

  “His courage.”

  “Excellent.”

  Roland smiled at Petie and Petie stood tall and proud. The three companions gathered their belongings among the smoke rising from the smoldering demons. They rode in silence most of the day.

  That evening, after Petie had gone to sleep, Eldryn walked out to Roland who was gathering more firewood. Eldryn lit a roll of smoking leaf and handed Roland one. Roland bit the end off of it and chewed it. He then maneuvered it into his jaw and looked back toward the camp at a sleeping Petie.

  “He is a fine boy,” Roland said.

  “He is at that. You know we must leave him in Modins. Our road is much too dangerous for a boy, no matter how smart or strong.”

  “He learns fast, El’,” Roland said, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. “We are young but… we know things that we could teach him.”

  “You know I’m right,” Eldryn said.

  “Before the Hourglass I hadn’t thought of a family, of sons,” Roland said. “I feel for him as I did when we traveled the Sands of Time and I saw…well I’m not sure what I saw but I know what I felt. I love him, El’.”

  “So do I,” Eldryn said. “But you know I’m right.”

  “We will see,” Roland said.

  “You know who you sounded like?” Eldryn asked, skillfully changing the subject.

  “What are you talking about now, El?”

  “You sounded just like your father when you were talking to him this morning about the demons.”

  “You’re just saying that to get my blood up,” Roland said, knowing there was truth in it.

  “You know I’m right,” Eldryn said through a slight laugh.

  “Aye, and just so. You are right. But this one it might not be wasted on. This boy is a smart one, and strong.”

  “Always doubting your own wit,” Eldryn said.

  “There is no wit, you yourself have said so. I have been called an ox all of my life. There is truth to that label.”

  “Roland, I know no man who is as hard on himself as you are,” Eldryn said. Then, maneuvering the subject skillfully, “I wonder if this is a bit of what it’s like for you father, or my Ma’.”

  “What do you mean?” Roland asked.

  “You know what I mean. We’ve only known this boy for a short time, but I worry for him. I hope for him. I’m proud when he has the right answer or shows bravery as he did earlier. But mostly it’s the worry. I feel it too, Roland.”

  Roland nodded, not wanting to muddy how he felt about Petie with clumsy words.

  The two friends enjoyed the silence of the night, and the calmness that came with the smoking leaf. Eldryn looked to the horizon where the mountains butted against the stars. Roland spat into the grass and then walked back toward the camp. Eldryn followed and they rolled their bedrolls out.

  “Take your four hours of sleep,” Eldryn said. “I’ll wake you two hours after midnight.”

  “Sleep,” Roland said looking off into the night. “A man doesn’t know what true riches are until he has been deprived of his sleep.”

  Roland put two more sticks into the fire and pulled his bedroll up around him. He slept soundly until Eldryn woke him at two past the midnight hour. The morning came, and the three friends gathered their belongings as they had so many times before. Breakfast was prepared, and packs were loaded onto horseback.

  Roland led them out of their camp, traveling west and slightly north. Roland now wore a black cloth around his neck to cover the wound from the demon’s whip. The wound accurately marked him as a man someone had attempted to hang. However, most men that carried that sort of mark needed hanging. He did not want to be confused with that sort.

  Ten days after their encounter with the fallen champions they cleared the forests and made it out onto the plains surrounding Modins. They were still leagues and weeks away from the great port city, but that time would be spent traversing these flat lands.

  They found that these plains were not so flat after all. Roland noted that while looking out across the lands everything appeared flat there were actually several great gullies and some canyons cut into the earth.

  Without the forest or mountains to protect them from the onslaught of winters last weeks they took to sometimes traveling with those canyons for the wind break it provided. Being naïve to the trail, they also took to camping in them. That mistake would mean death for some and life for others.

  One night, in the early hours before sunrise, Roland began building up the fire. It had been very cold with a norther blowing hard and pelting them with freezing rain.

  They had camped near a small stream at the bottom of a canyon around a bend and out of the north wind’s direct path.
Roland was stoking the fire with collected driftwood that he found all around. If he had been paying attention things might have gone differently.

  Roland gathered driftwood from near the stream but also from much higher up the bank. Several feet higher than where they had encamped.

  As the coffee and the stew of jerky and potatoes began to come to a boil Roland heard a voice on the wind. Waves and waste-landers come. Be ready Roland son of Velryk the Just, Tall Walker and Oath Keeper. Be ready.

  Roland bolted upright from his position over the stew pot. He kicked Eldryn’s foot and shook Petie’s shoulder gently.

  “Something comes,” Roland said.

  “You see, boys,” a voice from the dark around them spoke. “I told you I smelled someone cooking us breakfast.”

  “We are but poor travelers,” Roland said. “We are always happy to share what little we have, though.”

  Roland edged himself away from the fire and put himself between Petie and where he judged the voice to be coming from. He started his hand toward his helmet which sat so far away near his pack.

  Eldryn, who had made a practice of sleeping in his armor to ward off the cold, did have a blanket over him to shuck the freezing rain. Under that blanket he also protected his fine sword and bow.

  “Now now, what sort of host reaches for his armor when guests arrive,” the voice in the dark spoke again. In short order an arrow lodged into the ground between Roland’s hand and his helm. “We’ll make this easy, fellas. Just put down your weapons and walk on down your road. You’ll be leaving behind your packs and fine horses, of course. But we’ll be lettin’ ya walk away. I’m friendly like that.”

  Roland was smart enough to note that the arrow that struck the ground near him had come from below him near the stream. He also now realized he could hear the rushing of water. He had been hearing for several moments now.

  “We don’t have much,” Roland said addressing the voice from the dark. Under his breath he said, “El’, see to the horses. I’ll get Petie.”

  “We are but poor travelers from Fordir,” Roland continued. “We will lay our weapons down but, I must know, how did you come upon us so quietly? You came along the edge of the water, didn’t you? That must be it.”