by R J Hanson
They kissed one final time and then the world was shaking.
“Roland, get up,” Eldryn said, his hand still slightly shaking Roland’s shoulder. “It is your watch.”
“El, there are occasions when your timing could be better,” Roland said as he crawled from his bedroll.
“I have our way out,” Roland continued. “Get your rest for now, El. We have a lot of work to do.”
Roland, Kodii, and Facl worked for several hours cutting down three large trees and trimming them of most of their branches. They used the horses and mule to drag the great logs to the river’s edge. Roland took the extra rope from the packs and tied a long piece to the end of each log. He also made several short loops that he tied to branch stubs along the logs. Then he tied the sled, that had once been a cart, to the front of one of the logs.
Roland woke Eldryn and Pala and everyone worked to pack the remaining equipment and new supplies taken from the bodies of their enemies. As the men worked some of the children began to awake. Roland went to them.
“I know that you are scared,” Roland said. “I am scared myself. Any man that says he is not scared is either lying or too crazy to fear for his own life. It is alright to be scared. We will get you to Skult safely, although the road will be hard. You may believe me in that.”
Roland looked over the group ranging in ages from six to twelve or thirteen. They huddled together among the fallen leaves that marked winter’s arrival wrapped in cloaks and blankets they had given them. Roland walked over to Eldryn.
“My lord,” came from one of the older boys. A tall, but very thin, lad with sandy blonde hair that hung loose over his eyes.
“No titles here, young man,” Roland said. “It’s just Roland. What can I do for you?”
“We thank you,” the boy said. “They talked of feeding the slower of us to the ogres. Please understand that we tried, but…”
The boy’s voice trailed off as he struggled to face some of the tragedy they had endured.
“There will be time to reflect later,” Roland said. “Now you all must do as all warriors strive to do. You must put this tragedy to the side and deal with the circumstances that face you now. You are still on the battlefield, although safe for now. You must handle the immediate need.”
Roland tried to pass on what Velryk had taught him about loss and pain. He walked to them, among them, and knelt.
“These men are here to protect you,” Roland said. “But we all must work together to return to Skult safely. You have been strong beyond what should have ever been asked of you. You must continue to be brave. My father often said that being brave is easier when you have brothers and sisters standing beside you. You must continue to stand together, stand with us.”
As Roland spoke one of the children, the young girl with the blonde hair and broken nose, walked to him and hugged him. Then several followed suit. Eldryn and the others moved to the children and knelt to hug them in turn. Many of the children began to cry. Tin and Pala did as well.
Several long moments passed while hands, hands that were trained for the sword and spear, shield and axe, held scared and weeping children.
Then Roland stood. Roland, and the men standing with him, gave the children comfort. They gave the children hope.
Roland, with a nod to Eldryn, walked out from among them. Eldryn walked out to meet him. Kodii, Tin, Pala, and Facl continued to hold they youngest of those rescued.
“El, I think I have this figured out,” Roland said. “I will need you, Kodii, Tin, Pala, and Facl to get the children out. You must also carry Tyll with you, and Cambri’s body. You can float the logs down river to a point where the water calms and then pull the logs along the path of the river from horseback with the ropes. It will allow all of the children to travel as fast as a horse can pull them. You have five horses, if you include my Road Pounder, and the mule. Put Tyll on one of the logs with the children. Floating on a log will be easier on his leg than riding horseback anyway. That will give each of the remaining five that ride a mount of their own and one extra animal to cycle through the group to relieve the tired creatures. It may only save you a few days of travel, but it could mean the difference in reaching Skult or dying on the road. I also need you to get this map to the Prince. I’ve tried to memorize it. It shows troop movements and field defenses. I have another, both taken from Yorketh, but I will keep the second one for now. It is a drawing of Daeriv’s Keep and his inner guard. I’m not sure why Yorketh possessed it, perhaps plans for a coup. Either way, please see that the Prince gets the map of troop movements right away when you arrive in Skult.”
“Very well,” Eldryn said. “I give up, what is it you plan on doing?”
“I have to find the sword that Tin and his men came here for to begin with. There are more assassins on their way here. I must find that sword and get it to Prince Ralston. I think I know where the sword is, but it will take me a few days to get to it and then back out again. We cannot have these children waiting here for that and we cannot spare another man because you will need each of them to keep track of so many boys and girls.”
“Why is it that you are the one to stay?”
“Because I am the only one that knows where the sword rests,” Roland said.
“You reason well enough when it suits your purposes,” Eldryn said.
“You have said that before.”
“Yes, I have. And it remains true.”
The two friends shook hands and finished preparing for the larger group to leave. The plan was explained to the others despite protests from Tin and Facl about Roland staying behind by himself.
“Winter will be in full bloom while you travel that road alone,” Eldryn said. “Are you sure about this?”
“I am,” Roland said. “It must be done.”
“You see that you are in Skult promptly,” Eldryn said. “I will not forgive you if I have to spend my spring scouring this wretched landscape for you.”
“I will be there.”
“Take this belt,” Eldryn said as he removed his steel linked weapons belt. “It is part of the magnificent armor I took from Nolcavanor. I have discovered that it is the belt that allows one to ignore the heat of summer and the chill of winter. We must have fires for the children, you, on the other hand, must travel swiftly and light. It will be cold camps for you for a while, Tall Walker.”
Roland took the belt and moved his weapons and other gear to it.
“I thank you. You had better get started,” Roland said.
“My lord, may I say something?” Tin said.
“Of course,” Roland said. “And it’s just Roland.”
“Please take no offense to this, but I’d like to offer some advice. You are a skilled warrior but haven’t spent much time as an actual soldier.”
“It is only a fool that turns away the words of experience,” Roland said. “And you speak true.”
“Quoth Arto,” Eldryn chimed in.
Tin continued unabated by Eldryn’s attempt at humor.
“It is something an old soldier once said to me and it has seen me through a number of days in the mud and the rain,” Tindrakin said. “‘A good soldier never runs when he can walk, and never stands when he can sit. A good soldier eats when there’s food and sleeps when there’s time.’”
“Thank you, Tin,” Roland said.
The men rolled the logs into the gentle flow of the river and secured each to a different horse by ropes. The logs were guided downstream a little more than a league from camp before the water was calm enough for the children to ride them. Tyll gingerly took his place on one of the logs and the boys and girls scampered all over the makeshift rafts. Eldryn led, and the group began down river toward Skult. Kodii followed behind them watching the children and their back trail. Roland watched them go. It would be several lonely days before he saw a friend again.
Roland turned and jogged back toward the tunnels. He reached them and began replaying his dream in his mind. The turns and twists w
ere all there just as he had dreamed them. The path began to get confusing and just as Roland began to fear that he might get lost, he found them. Arrows scratched into the stone surface of the tunnels. The marks he had made in a dream. He did not pretend to understand it, he just thanked Bolvii for his fortune and continued on his path.
Six hours of traveling the winding pathways had proven that Roland had stayed true to his course. He reached the stone wall that Clairenese had led him to in his dream. Roland wasted no time. He began chipping at the wall with his axes. He took care to use only one blade on each double headed axe. The blades could be sharpened later, but he might need the other heads’ cutting edge before he reached Skult.
Three hours of labor had winded him. He sat and drank deeply from his water skin. He removed his helmet and took a nap there in the dark. He awoke untold hours later. He took another long drink from his water skin and placed his helm back on his head. Roland began his work with his axes again.
Another hour’s worth of chipping had produced a hole the size of a fist. The air within was ancient and had been caged for centuries. When he removed his helm again to wipe sweat from his brow Roland was in absolute black. His helm, the helmet that once adorned Lord Ivant, allowed excellent vision in this deep hole. However, he felt an urge to find and light a torch or a lamp. Some form of natural light. Some kind of defense against the oppressive dark that surrounded him. Roland placed his helm back on his head and worked for another hour. In time the hole was big enough for him to crawl through.
He made his way through the hole and fell to the floor on the other side. He rose and was amazed by what he saw. This tomb had been sealed perfectly. Mandergane lay there just as he had minutes after falling in combat those long ages ago. He still wore his armor and still clung to Shrou-sheld Blancet. Roland did not understand the ways of magic or of the channeled prayer that paladins used, however, he could make a good guess as to why the broken symbol of an hourglass that rested on Mandergane's head was there.
“His enemies trapped his soul here,” Roland said to himself.
Roland took the two pieces of the hourglass symbol, made of bronze and steel, from the corpse and threw them across the cavern. He dusted the collected dust from Mandergane’s helm.
“I should give you a proper burial with your armor and weapons to keep you company, but necessity demands otherwise. You understood necessity, didn’t you? It’s what led you here, to die alone.”
Roland took the weapons, and a pouch from the body’s waste and tossed them through the hole first. Then he removed the armor from Mandergane and lashed it together with strips of leather and pushed it through. Roland then shouldered Mandergane’s corpse and worked it through the gap in the rock and lexxmar wall. Roland then picked up Lord Mandergane’s shield, a beautifully crafted artifact, and, after another hour of chipping away, was just able to wedge it through the hole. Finally, Roland took up the legendary shrou-sheld in its scabbard. He surveyed the room one final time and then crawled back through, pushing the shrou-sheld ahead of him.
Once out of the room Roland strapped the shrou-sheld at his side, and lashed the armor to the top of his pack. He slung Mandergane’s old weapons belt over one arm and lifted the shield in the other. Then he wrapped the old paladin’s corpse in a tarp and hoisted it over his shoulder. Roland began to jog for the entrance of the tunnel. He trotted through the tunnels for five more hours before stopping to rest. He drained his water skin and ate a handful of dried fruit. Roland removed his helmet once again and slept.
Roland found himself walking in a grove that he vaguely recognized. Someone held his hand and he looked over to see Clairenese strolling next to him.
“I know this place, but it seems different,” Roland said.
“It is the forest, just a few leagues from the tunnels you sleep in even now.”
“It is different.”
“It is warm and sunny here now,” Clairenese said. “It is free from the ravages of war. It is not this land that is cursed, but the men that fight over it that make it seem so. It can be this way again, but you will be pushed to your limits to make it so.”
“It is beautiful here.”
“Do you see this tree?” Clairenese asked.
Her delicate finger indicated a great tree of both strength and beauty. Its bark was a dark ashen tint and its trunk was larger than Roland’s arms could reach around. On its branches bloomed fragile pink and white flowers that smelled of family picnics and children playing in a barn.
“Yes,” was all Roland could say.
“Remember this tree. It is the only one like it in this forest. It was planted here ages ago by King Ivantis, the first of his name. Flowers bloom from it in the winter. One of those flowers will fill a man’s stomach for a day. This tree is blessed. It would make a proper resting place for the valiant Mandergane.”
“Why do you tell me these things?” Roland asked.
“Father wishes to make right the many things he made wrong eons ago. Other men will not trust him, and most fear him. If you love me then I need you to stand with father.”
“I would stand with your father with or without your love. He seems a just man and there is something about him I like.”
“That is your blood speaking,” Clairenese said.
“My blood?”
“Have you not guessed? You are more than a soldier’s son. Lord Velryk is more than a great warrior. But you will learn those things in time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You do not have much time. Look on this tree. You must be able to find it again in the season of winter among the gloom that has settled on this land.”
Roland looked at the tree and then looked all around locating landmarks from the mountains nearby. He turned and his Clairenese was gone.
Roland awoke to hear his own stomach betraying his position in the darkness. He ate several bites of jerky to quiet it and then placed his helm back on his head. He shouldered his loads and began his trek out of the tunnels once again.
He reached the mouth of the caves two hours later in the bright light of a noon day sun. Snow had come to the land while he had been below ground. He filled his water skins at the river’s edge and ate more of the jerky. Then Roland hoisted his load and the body of Lord Mandergane and headed for the forest in search of the tree Claire had shown him.
He used the landmarks he had memorized but the snow changed the appearance of everything around him. He searched for the tree for four hours before he found the blooms that Clairenese had spoken of. He began breaking the cold earth with the dulled blades of his axes. He removed a tin plate from his pack and bent it to scoop the loose ground from the forming grave. Roland dug for several hours. The sun had been long gone from the sky when he finished. He laid Mandergane’s body in the ground and knelt beside the grave.
“Infinite Father of Time, I return to you what is yours. Your servant, Lord Mandergane the White Paladin is free from his worldly prison. I pray you forgive the haste with which this warrior is buried, and I pray you bless the further use of his armament. His weapons and armor were no doubt a gift from you. I will see to it that they continue to serve you even though their honorable bearer rests.”
Roland went to work with the tin dish covering the corpse of Lord Mandergane. When the grave was filled, Roland took the flaming dagger and cut bark from a nearby tree. On the bark Roland burned the symbol of the hourglass and placed it at the head of the grave. Roland took another piece of bark and burned a gauntleted fist with an owl perched atop it, Bolvii’s symbol. He placed that holy symbol at the foot of the grave.
“Rest easy Lord Mandergane. The Infinite Father and Bolvii watch over you now.”
Roland collected a pouch full of flowers from the tree’s lower limbs and began his walk toward the river. Roland ate one of the flowers and discovered that not only did it fill his stomach and quiet his appetite, but that it also tasted quite good.
Roland stopped several hours lat
er as the sun was brimming the sky to the east. He took the sword, ‘A Leader’s Justice,’ from its scabbard. He looked on a majestic shrou-sheld inscribed with several holy symbols. The hilt was of Roarke’s Ore and wrapped in white dyed lambskin. At the bottom of the hilt was an hourglass carved of lexxmar and filled with a silver sand. The blade was some sort of white metal alloy inlayed with Roarke’s Ore. The inlay read ‘Blancet Precentia Inifit Ray.’ White is the Presence of All Light. This was a mighty weapon indeed.
Chapter IX
A Hidden Ally
Roland, following Tindrakin’s advice, had been jogging along the north bank of the river’s edge following the tracks of others for four hours now. He felt the need for haste, but Tin had been right. On the trail, one should only run when one must. It had been eight days since he buried Lord Mandergane. He stopped as the sun disappeared behind the mountains.
He drained his water skin and refilled it from the river. He ate another one of the flowers he had plucked from the blessed tree. These flowers had proved to be a marvel indeed. Eldryn’s belt had saved him a great deal of trouble for, more often than not, when he would wake from his naps, he would find ice hanging from his pack and sometime fresh snow mounded on him. The belt had kept him very comfortable in the cold of winter’s embrace.
He awoke suddenly, with the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. Then the running began. His stride and endurance were uncommon to say the least and Roland the Oath Keeper, son of Velryk the Just, began to cover ground faster than most horses would have been capable.
He had been existing on brief naps of two to three hours each. The night and day had blurred together and Roland reached a point when he could not remember life being anything but running.
Roland was deep asleep restoring himself in preparation for the further exhaustion to come. Something nudged his shoulder and his eyes opened onto a dark winter’s night. He examined his surroundings and placed his right hand on Swift Blood. With his left, Roland retrieved his helmet and placed it on his head. The night immediately took on another view. He saw something flee into the trees nearby. As he stood and drew his Shrou-Hayn he saw two other figures approaching him from the northeast.
