by R J Hanson
“I suppose there is battle against evil in Lawrec the same as any other place,” Eldryn said. “I am with you. Although it does concern me how well you talk yourself into things.”
Roland went to the post in Modins. He purchased two sheets of paper and borrowed a quill. He wrote a letter and purchased a leather pouch and wax seal. Roland placed several coins in the pouch and sealed the top of it with the wax. He paid the boy there two silver coins for the cost of delivery.
Delivery all the way to Fordir was costly, but it would be swift. King Eirsett had been wise to devote some of his resources to establish the post. Riders, men and women, and several children for that matter, were stationed every few leagues along all of the major roads of Lethanor. Every other day a rider left Modins, and other major cities, with letters and packages bound for distant places.
The riders would push their mounts hard for the few leagues they must ride and then hand off their packs to a prepared rider on a fresh horse at the next station. The packages and letters would go from rider to rider all across the expanse of the great continent.
Of course, the King and his generals had little need for the post themselves. Nor did any of the churches require such a service. Those who had access to wizards and clerics could have messages delivered by means more magical or celestial.
However, news of criminal activity, trading ventures, and successful or failed crops was also of great use to the governing of Lethanor.
The three walked from the post master’s building and down the cool street toward the docks. They talked of what might lay ahead of them at sea and in Lawrec herself. They talked of plans and ideas and thought of how far they had come together in such a short time.
The night Roland and Eldryn rode up to the jail in Fordir to release Ashcliff had only been last fall. It seemed to Roland that it had been years ago. That night, those leagues and months before, Roland was just a boy. He saw that now. He had known so little of the world around him. What Roland did not realize was that he was still a boy, and still knew very little.
Roland noticed there were a number of the King’s Guard near the docks, but thought nothing more of it. Eldryn noticed Ashcliff’s anxiety. In all they had been through, Eldryn did not remember seeing Ashcliff this anxious.
“You there,” the captain of the guards called to Ashcliff. “Hold!”
Roland, Ashcliff, and Eldryn were suddenly surrounded by more than thirty of the King’s Guard. They had clearly walked into an ambush. Roland and Eldryn were schooled on spotting and countering ambushes in wilds or on the battlefield. Both were ignorant of the ways of the streets.
“What is this?” Roland demanded.
“We have a warrant, a King’s warrant, for this man,” the captain said. “Any who oppose us oppose the King.”
Each of the guards had a weapon drawn.
“I will be dead first,” Roland said as he reached for Swift Blood. Eldryn, thinking quickly and acting even quicker, grabbed Roland’s arm.
“This is not the time, Roland. We are outnumbered. There is no way we can take thirty of the King’s Guard. The King’s Guard, if you didn’t hear that part. Ash is my friend too, but it would be suicide.”
Ashcliff looked at Roland and Eldryn with a poker face as the captain fastened lexxmar manacles on Ashcliff’s wrists and a similar collar around his throat.
Roland gritted his teeth and jerked from Eldryn.
“This is not right,” Roland said.
“Our warrant is true,” the captain said as he unrolled it and showed it to Roland. “Sworn to by a paladin of Silvor.”
The captain didn’t know who this young lordly dressed fellow was, but thought it best to err on the side of caution. He had seen others in the Guard demoted or worse over an ill word to the wrong person, especially if that person was closely tied to the church.
Roland examined the warrant and scrutinized the seal it was marked with. The description of Ash, and those he would likely be traveling with, was very detailed.
“He is our friend,” Eldryn said to Roland. “We cannot help him by getting ourselves jailed or killed.”
“Go,” Ashcliff said. “I’m sure this misunderstanding will be cleared up soon. Go, I will meet you in Lawrec.”
One of the guards scoffed a laugh at that.
Roland stood with anger ripping through him and Eldryn gripping his arm tightly. He could feel the heat of it in his shoulders and just behind his eyes. The guards moved around Ashcliff carefully and started him toward the Keep of Modins. More than a few kept a wary eye on Roland as well. Roland and Eldryn walked away, heading themselves toward the docks.
“We are his friends,” Roland said. “We should have done something.”
“Like what?” Eldryn asked. “We would have died attempting to escape and they would still have Ash in bonds.”
“Today we are not warriors,” Roland said.
“It was a King’s Warrant, Roland,” Eldryn said. “What could the two of us do about that?”
“Father has always spoken well of the King,” Roland said. “This must be fraud of some sort. One of the churches must have word about Nolcavanor. We both know who the paladin of Silvor must be.”
“You studied it. Was the warrant not signed?” Eldryn asked.
“Just a sigil stamped,” Roland said. “The symbol of Silvor.”
“You’re grasping at straws, Roland,” Eldryn said. “We both know Ash to be a good friend, but he has not always been on the right side of the law.”
“In times of war many prisoners are freed to be enlisted. We could…”
Eldryn took Roland by the shoulders and turned him so they were face to face. Eldryn then took a deep breath.
“We could,” Eldryn said, guessing he knew Roland’s thoughts. “Once we are recognized, proved, to be useful in that war ourselves.”
Roland turned away from Eldryn then. He knew Eldryn was right, but hated to admit it. He was not yet the man he wished to be. There were trials ahead he must face, and face with courage. He possessed so much strength and force of will, and no one knew his name.
How could he have a name worth repeating if he abandoned his friends at the first sign of trouble? How could a warrior just watch as a brother in arms was hauled away?
Eldryn watched Roland as they made their way through the streets of Modins toward the docks on the west side. He knew when Roland was planning, and that usually meant trouble. Roland was planning now. Not thinking, unfortunately, for that was a different look. No, this was planning without allowing reason past the doors of the war room in his mind.
The two reached the docks and discovered a large warship from the southern, frozen, plains of Janis off-loading goods and supplies. Roland started directly for them his intent clear.
“Who are you that thinks you may walk upon the decks of a Slandik ship?” A strong, battle worn barbarian asked as Roland approached the gangplank. Roland made note of the many scars on the barbarian’s chest and powerful arms. He was shirtless due to the relatively warm clime here in Modins.
“I am Roland, friend to King Lucas.”
“You will learn not to use our fallen King’s name so lightly,” the barbarian said as he started down the gangplank, taking up a two-handed battle axe as he stepped from the ship.
“Look to this,” Roland said extending the scroll Lucas had given them. “Read this before your blood is spilled in vain.”
The barbarian, having no concern for the threats of this overly dressed lord’s boy no matter how tall he might be, took the letter and read it. He read it three times.
“You will wait here,” he said as he walked quickly back up the gangplank and disappeared below deck.
Roland and Eldryn looked over the ship and her crew. They were all tough by the look of them, and seasoned. No one of them spouted an insult, and no hand strayed toward a weapon. None scoffed, or offered a threat of any kind. They just stood, waiting. There was a calm among the crew that showed absolute confidence
. If blood needed to be spilled, then they would be the ones doing the spilling.
The Slandik that took the letter returned a few slow moments later. Moments during which Eldryn imagined their death in many different ways.
“I am Vincst, son of Hjerv. These words are true,” Vincst said.
After hearing that, every man of the crew moved as one and went back to their respective tasks. Roland found that he truly liked these men. Direct, honest, and practical. He liked them a lot.
“I ask not your forgiveness for I thought our King lost to us forever. My captain will speak with you.”
They were led aboard and shown below deck to the crews’ quarters. This vessel was of an unfamiliar design. Roland and Eldryn were by no means sailors, but understood the basics of seamanship and had been aboard ships of Lethanor design a few times, although never out of the bay.
Lethanor ships were heavily built with a number of cross walls to support its frame against tall waves or other structural assaults. The cross walls also allowed for segregated storage, which provided a significant benefit to load control while at sea. The many chambered approach also granted the privilege of a private captain’s quarters and some mitigated privacy for the crew. However, that also meant that they traveled lower in the water costing them speed and maneuverability.
This vessel, as they would come to learn, was true to its Slandik heritage. It was made of sturdy wood, but no cross walls. There were three levels to the ship. The main top deck was typically left clear of stores so that sailors could move about quickly to the sails or fix and operate oars if they required haste. The lower deck was open throughout the length of vessel and served to store cargo and crew alike. Cargo was fastened and hung in net hammocks. The crew slept in the same fashion. The lowest area of the ship, the bilge, was only a few feet in height. The bilge caught whatever sea water permeated the upper decks. It could be flooded intentionally to give the ship more stability in rough waters, or bailed out to lighten the vessel, in turn increasing its speed.
They took the ladder to the lower deck and saw a man who reflected the ravages of life at sea in his worn face. He stood a bit taller than Eldryn, but had a much thinner build. He was lean and deeply tanned. He wore deerskin pants and boots with a wide leather belt that carried a fine steel axe in a loop. He too was stripped to the waist revealing lean muscle and multiple old scars that slashed over his shoulders and across his back. The old marks of a whip.
“I am Captain Scalyern and you are aboard the Coarse Wind,” the Captain said. “I read your letter. Tell me, what sort of blade does our King carry?”
“It is a fine axe of ever-ice,” Roland said.
Captain Scalyern looked Roland over again, as though he had missed something on his first glance at this young Great Man, and nodded.
“What can I or my ship do in service to our King or his friends?”
“I will need passage to Lawrec,” Roland said. “However, I also need five volunteers to help me free a friend from the Keep of Modins.”
Eldryn looked at Roland with his familiar unbelieving stare. It seemed he would never get used to his friend’s complete disregard of peril.
“Roland, we can’t,” Eldryn began.
“I’ll not leave a man behind,” Roland said.
Eldryn struggled with Roland’s decision. Doing something foolish was one thing, but acting against the King’s Guard was tantamount to acting against the King himself. That was something the Code would not allow, not without very compelling evidence anyway. Eldryn decided that he would stick with Roland, for in his heart he believed Ash did not belong in chains.
How many sorrows had been wrought because of what some fool ‘believed in his heart?’ How many homes had been burned because of a desire to be in the right? How many lives had been lost because a man believed he was just?
Those questions are not the sort young men often consider. Those questions are often only asked by the wise, after tragedy has come.
“We are at your service, Sir Roland. However, I cannot take on the responsibility to begin a war with a nation that we trade with in peace. We were bound for Lawrec anyway and would be happy to have two more swords aboard for that journey. However, going armed into the Keep of Modins…”
“I ask for no war,” Roland said. “And there is no ‘Sir’ to it. It’s just Roland. I need a disturbance at the gate to the Keep that will allow me to enter unnoticed. I need your men to provide that disturbance. Furthermore, should I be successful, we must be prepared to leave immediately upon my return.”
“Very well,” Scalyern said. “Vincst and a few others have been known to wonder the streets a bit too drunk and noisy for the locals. We will help.”
“You really plan on breaking into the dungeon of Modins?” Eldryn asked.
“He is our friend,” was Roland’s only answer.
“He is,” Eldryn said in a resigned tone.
Roland and Eldryn retrieved their horses they had discovered in the same stable they had used before their unplanned trip to Lynneare’s castle. They moved the horses and all of their equipment onto the vessel and made arrangements for grain and hay for the trip. As they finished their preparations night came and dark began to settle over the harbor town.
At dusk Roland and Eldryn left the ship followed by five proud sons of Janis heading for the Keep of Modins. Roland’s mind was set, regardless of what reason might have to say. Eldryn was uneasy. He knew this would be a line they could not un-cross, a bell they could not un-ring. Even if they escaped, they would have committed an act of treason. Even if what they did was never discovered, they would know of their own misdeeds.
They arrived at a street leading to the front gate to hear alarms sounding throughout the Keep and the surrounding area. Guards scoured the streets around them and torches were lit as fast as could be managed. Town folk moved to the sidewalks, clearing the streets, and horses and carts were hastily moved from the path of the King’s Guard.
“Find him,” one captain yelled to several guards exiting the gate. “He must be captured again.”
Roland saw that the captain held a familiar set of lexxmar manacles in his hands.
“I think our friend has arranged his own release, although it appears it may have been unauthorized,” Eldryn said quietly.
“I think you are right,” Roland said. “Let us be off to the ship.”
“And Ash?”
“Ash has always traveled better without our clumsy aid,” Roland said. Inwardly, he knew Ash had only been discovered before because he traveled with Roland and Eldryn. Eldryn was a strong warrior and well dressed for his task, but Roland was a head taller than anyone else in the city, or possibly the kingdom. Roland knew Ash had been found because of him.
Roland and Eldryn returned to the ship with Vincst and his companions. The anchor was hoisted and the ship began its course for Lawrec.
It was a hot morning. Velryk watched the usual events take place in the small market place of Fordir through the window of his office. He thought about his sons. Roland and Eldryn had been gone for almost a full year now. Velryk sipped his coffee and looked over the jail records and scouting reports.
He walked to the door and looked north with the sun warming the right side of his face. He had put so much hope in Roland. Perhaps he had pushed him too hard. Velryk wanted to make up for the loss of his first son, and the pain he brought to so many.
“Sheriff Velryk. I have a letter for you.”
Velryk looked at the flushed face of the post rider from the capital as blood began to drain from his own.
“A letter?” Velryk asked. His heart felt sick. A letter from Ostbier. Had Roland fallen? Was this news of his death? Or perhaps the King had called on him again?
“Yes, a letter and a small package. All the way from Modins!”
Velryk took the letter and opened it. He recognized the handwriting immediately and relief flooded him. Muscles that he hadn’t realized were straining began to relax. Velryk
began reading.
Father,
I know that I shamed you. I have caught up with the woman warrior, Dawn. She has been brought to justice. I travel now to the land of Lawrec to track down the mage, Yorketh.
I have made many friends and more enemies. I have tried to be true to the lessons you have taught me. I have defended the weak, and fought for what is just. I have tried to be the son that you raised.
I have heard tales about a Lord Velryk, and his son called Verkial. I ask you now to tell me about those things. I do not demand answer, because that would be the act of an undisciplined son. However, if I have a brother, I ask you now to explain.
I took on an orphan who is in training at the school of the Silver Helms in Modins. His name is Peterion. I told him about you in case something should happen to me. He is a good boy, smart and strong. He has a good heart as well.
I have seen many things, Father. I have seen the truth of your lessons. I will honor your name. I will justify your time, and your love. I will write again later. For now, know that El’ and I are well and are bound for Lawrec. I have included a package for you. It is the least that a son who loves his father could do.
Your Faithful Son,
Roland
Velryk’s hand trembled as he read. He took up the small pouch that had been attached to the letter. Velryk opened it and discovered thirty gold coins and a large, valuable gem.
Velryk fought the tears and choked his emotions deep down in his throat as he saddled his horse and rode out of town.
Had the messenger arrived a week later, or Lord Velryk dallied in his departure, a great many things might have been different. He might have heard of the birth of a child in Fordir in the month of Setch. He might have drawn conclusions or taken action. However, ‘might have’s’ are the purview of Fate, and She is jealous about her jurisdiction.
A few hours later Sheriff Velryk, who had once been known as Lord Velryk the Just, rode into a familiar yard. He stabled his horse in the barn and approached the stone dwelling. A woman saw him through an open window in the kitchen.
“Velryk,” Shaylee said, “is that you?”
