by R J Hanson
“If a man makes a struggle like that in my service, at the very least I owe him the honor of presenting the gifts himself,” the Prince had said to Eldryn and Sir Brutis.
The priest and nurses tended to Roland’s wounds and re-stitched the injuries. They pasted a poultice over the burns he had given himself on the back. Kodii, Marnie, Tindrakin and Eldryn took turns watching over Roland while Pala, Facl, and a healing Tyll continued to take care of the children they escorted into Skult. There were caravans leaving each day for Vanthor, and each day a few more children were sent southeast. Eldryn had given a priest, Father Gadriel of Bolvii in charge of the orphaned children, fifty gold coins to help with the costs of their care.
While Roland slept, Prince Ralston, and Sir Brutis discussed the map given to them by Eldryn and how it correlated with scouting reports they had received.
Prince Ralston was a Great Man who possessed his father’s black hair and green eyes that shone brightly from his light skinned face. He also possessed his father’s strong build and stood nearly six feet ten inches in height. The Prince was young for such responsibilities, but had been raised since birth to one day rule all of Lethanor.
Sir Brutis, himself almost as tall as Prince Ralston, was much older than the Prince. The lines on his face told of many days spent in hardship in the service of the King. His hair, which once had been as black as the Prince’s, now showed more gray than black, and his dark blue eyes had a way of looking through to the soul of a man.
They studied the information available to them and believed they had discovered something of a weak point in Daeriv’s forces. They believed they’d found a chance to cut off supplies to a sizable portion of his armies who would then be left to face the winter without food or aid.
“My Prince,” Sir Brutis said. “I do not wish to question you, but I am here to serve as both advisor and general. Of course, meaning no disrespect to General Maditt.”
“Speak freely,” Prince Ralston said.
“This sword, Mandergane’s sword, if it is so precious then why leave it behind? I understand and admire the idea of waiting until this young man, Roland, can give it to you personally but, if it is that powerful then why leave it behind?”
“The true power of that sword is twofold,” the Prince said. “The story that travels with it makes for a great tale over the campfire of soldiers. The search for it gave the men hope. Furthermore, believing it to be of great importance to us, it caused Daeriv to devote a mage and several skilled scouts to that search as well. They were busy searching instead of scouting and attacking our forward positions. The real power of that sword and accompanying armor is not in the artifacts themselves, but rather in their reputation.”
“Ah,” Sir Brutis said. “Clever. You are your father’s son.”
“You’ve dispatched riders to recall the other search parties?” Prince Ralston asked.
“Yes, my lord,” Sir Brutis said. “The moment we confirmed it was indeed Lord Mandergane’s sword.”
“Good,” the Prince said. “Send word to General Maditt at once as well. The news may cheer up some of those in the field and we’ll need him to reposition forces for this strike.”
“Yes, my lord,” Sir Brutis said.
This would be the first time Prince Ralston’s armies would be charging instead of defending, therefore, he went to the front to lead the charge himself hoping to boost the waning morale of his men.
Roland opened his eyes to find himself in a stone room lit by four lamps. He saw Eldryn asleep in a chair near the bed and a nurse, a girl no older than eighteen, cleaning the healing wound on his thigh. I would be no older than eighteen, Roland thought to himself, if it had not been for the aging of the Hourglass, I would be no older than eighteen.
His throat was dry and his voice cracked on each syllable as he tried to ask for water. Seeing that he was awake, the young nurse brought over a pitcher and poured a goblet of chilled water for him. He drank and he could feel the coolness of the water as it raced down his eager throat to his growling stomach.
Roland drank three more goblets full of water and then sleep took him again. He woke again the following morning to the sounds of Tindrakin and Eldryn talking.
“Is food so expensive now that even the gold I carry in my pouch will not buy me a breakfast?” Roland asked.
Eldryn, Marnie, Kodii, and Tindrakin looked at him and the weight in their faces lifted.
“It is good to see you awake,” Eldryn said. “I thought you might sleep away the next decade of your life.”
“Well, I was tired,” Roland said, the croak still heavy in his voice.
“Indeed, you were,” Tindrakin said. “And still are I would say. I’ll see to the meal.”
“Tin, I am fiercely hungry, but I fear my stomach will hold only a few bites.”
“I have seen men recover from starvation. I will be selective and wise.”
“El’, the children?” Roland asked.
“They are well,” Eldryn said. “The trip would not have been quite as easy without Kodii hunting for us, though. Those kids developed an appetite that would put ours to shame.”
Roland nodded.
Tin returned shortly with a small plate and Roland ate very small bites of biscuit and ham. After two biscuits and three slices of ham, Roland’s stomach felt as though it would burst.
“I’m afraid I am done for now.”
Roland spent the next two days getting his appetite back and recounting the story of his fight with the Soul Stalker and Engiyadu.
“He was quick, El,” Roland said. “I’ve never seen anything move with the speed the creature that calls himself Engiyadu possesses. It was sheer luck that I got away. El, I was scared.”
“Your run back here was out of concern for that weapon falling into the wrong hands,” Eldryn said. “You should know that.”
“Was I running to protect the weapon, or was I running in fear?”
“You are letting your pride blind you to the truth, Roland,” Eldryn said. “You always have. You did the smart thing. What bothers you is just that. You have always hated doing the smart thing.”
“I must say that I agree,” Marnie chimed in. “You did something smart and that fact hurts your soul.”
Marnie’s words were sharp but Roland heard the tease in them. He had seen the concern in her eyes when he first awoke. Something had happened to soften her heart toward him, if only a little bit. Roland had to smile at that.
“So, you do not know who prepared the fire and meal for you, or who dressed your wounds?” Eldryn asked.
“No idea,” Roland said. “Whoever, or whatever, it was they didn’t get involved in the fight that I know of. Then again, I was hard pressed. They may have been involved and I just didn’t have time to notice.”
“Could it have been a champion sent by Bolvii to your aid?” Tindrakin asked.
“I doubt it,” Roland said. “I would think that if it were a champion sent from Bolvii it would have stuck around long enough to identify itself, or at the very least let me know that it was Bolvii’s grace that saved me. I have never heard of champions sent by the gods acting so anonymously.”
“Yes, you do have a point there,” Marnie said in the most wizened tone she could muster.
“You still haven’t told us how you knew where to find the sword,” Eldryn said.
“It was Clairenese,” Roland said. “She came to me in a dream. She showed me where to find the sword. It was her suggestion that we have the children travel on the logs floated in the river.”
“How did she know where the sword was?” Tindrakin asked.
“Forget that,” Eldryn said. “How did she get into your dreams?”
“She said that her father had information about where the sword was,” Roland didn’t lie, exactly. “I think the dream walking is a spell book that the two sisters share. As far as I know there is still a lock of my hair in Dawn’s possession.”
“Dream walking,” Marnie said. “
That sounds scary to me.”
“It certainly can be,” Roland said.
After two days of recounting this story, eating every couple of hours, and napping constantly, Roland felt his strength returning. On the seventh day after reaching Skult, Roland was almost back to normal. Roland had always been a quick healer, however, the prayers of the priests, those of Father Gadriel in particular, and the herbs of the nurses had also worked to accelerate his mending.
Eldryn had personally seen to it that none of the items that Roland carried had been touched by anyone. Once he was up and around, Roland inventoried the weapons, armor, shield, and pouch he had brought back from Lord Mandergane. Roland had already determined that the weapon, shield, and armor should go to Prince Ralston. He sat those things aside and strapped them all together for ease of carry.
He then began to go through the pouch. He found three clay balls with a rising sun inscribed on them, two very valuable gems by the look of them, a fanged tooth, thirty-eight Roarke’s Ore coins, and seventy gold coins. He transferred those items to his own leather pouch.
Roland realized as he inventoried his equipment that he had left his two steel alloy axes somewhere on the road between the caves and Skult. He was reminded of his anger toward weapon vendors when he was quoted a price of twelve gold coins for replacements.
“Do you know who this is?” Marnie said, again from around Roland’s elbow. “Have you not heard of Roland’s Run?”
“Apologies,” the vendor began. “However, the cost…”
“You really don’t want to start down that road with her,” Eldryn said.
Marnie smiled at that.
“You were saying…” Marnie coaxed. “Perhaps you were going to say that the price in Vanthor is eight gold, and then there’s the costs of shipping, and so on. No, surely you wouldn’t say that when these axes were clearly smithed right here in Skult. For who would ship axes for sell when the steel they’re made from can be readily obtained here. There’s also the matter of skill required I suppose. Of course, that’s the appeal of the axe, isn’t it? The fact that almost any smith can craft one, and within two days’ time.”
“But the cost of the smith,” the vendor feebly tried to regain his ground. “And the demand for weaponry…”
“Nine gold is what we’ll pay,” Marnie said. “You’ll still make a sizable profit, more than you’re paying taxes on I’m sure, and you’ll be able to say that Roland himself bought axes in your shop.”
“You’re very good at that,” Roland said as they walked from the shop toward the open-air market.
“I suppose growing up around a professional haggler has its benefits,” Marnie said.
On the eighth day of Roland’s recovery the news came to Skult of Prince Ralston’s capture via several beleaguered soldiers that had left Skult under Prince Ralston’s leadership.
The remaining officials and military officers left in Skult were being very quiet about the situation, however, Marnie had the story from one of the men that had gone out with Prince Ralston and had returned to Skult with the other retreating forces.
She had taken her job seriously and in her weeks in Skult had managed to tap into several gossip circles. Marnie also paid a few tavern girls to stay well informed.
It seemed that the weak point in Daeriv’s line, an over stretched supply line, had been bait for a trap. Prince Ralston and his men had been allowed to charge several leagues into the enemy’s lines and sever the supply chain. However, they encountered a reinforced army awaiting them deeper in. Before they could react or retreat, another force that had been following them closed the trap. For three days they held their ground and withstood archers during the days and assassins during the night. During the night of the third day Prince Ralston disappeared from the embattled troop. On the morning of the fourth day the men holding the line saw Prince Ralston in chains being led away from the battleground a far distance from them. The generals received a message from Daeriv’s forces that they would allow the remainder of Prince Ralston’s men to leave if they dropped their weapons and fled. The generals reluctantly complied.
Everyone that had heard of the Prince’s capture was certain that King Eirsett of Lethanor, Prince Ralston’s father, would send a special force to attempt to retrieve him. However, how long it would take the news to reach the King and then for the special force to respond was a different matter altogether.
“We must do something,” Roland said as his small group sat around their campfire in the yards of Skult.
“There is more,” Marnie said. “The men say that a Shrou Demon stood at the head of the reinforced troops they encountered.”
“What is a Shrou Demon?” Tindrakin asked.
“It is a fallen champion,” Eldryn began. “They were originally twisted and mastered by evil clerics as their personal guard. A few powerful mages and sorcerers can summon them, but I understand that it is difficult, and costly. They are masters of the shrou-sheld, and live for one on one combat. They are known for challenging the knights and paladins of an army to a one on one duel before both armies. They do this to show off their talents by killing the most skilled warriors among their enemies. The duels are usually devastating to morale.”
“I know what a shrou-sheld is,” Tindrakin said. “But why is it called a ‘Shrou’ demon?”
“Shrou comes from the old word for ‘destiny,’ or ‘Fate,’” Eldryn said. “In their case it can also mean ‘doom.’”
“Prince Ralston lost four sturdy knights to the Shrou Demon before he refused to allow any others to accept the fallen champion’s challenges,” Marnie said.
“Shrou Demons are flawless in their tact and execution of even the most advanced maneuvers,” Eldryn said. “They move at twice the normal speed of most men. We were told a man could learn a great deal by watching one of them fight. Velryk, Roland’s father, said they never showed much imagination, but their practice of the accepted arts of the shrou-sheld was without the slightest imperfection.”
“What about mages?” Roland asked. “Couldn’t they teleport him out somehow?”
“I’ve only got the story third hand,” Marnie said. “But I was told the mage said he couldn’t ‘reach’ him. Whatever that means.”
They were all silent then. For Kodii it was customary, but for Marnie it was not. She was learning. She was seeing the hard truths of war daily. Truths that wear away even the most stoic souls and scour away innocence. Roland walked from the campfire into the night chewing on a bit of smoking leaf.
“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Eldryn said. “I know that you are feeling much better, and you look a great deal better than you did. However, we are talking about a type of excursion that we don’t have any training for, nor any experience at executing.”
“It is for us to do, El,” Roland said as he saddled Road Pounder. “He has knights, and very capable ones, but none of them are in any shape to do anything. The ones that rode with him are either dead, or severely injured. The ones that remain in the field have their hands full holding the ground they currently defend.”
“This is not the way to win the glory you have always spoken of,” Eldryn said. “We will get killed.”
“This is not about glory,” Roland said. “This is about rescuing the only man with the position and courage to run Daeriv from these lands. This is about making sure no other farms fall into Daeriv’s control. This is about making sure that there will be no more children in these lands who have to know what a rope burn on their neck feels like.”
“This isn’t about the Prince at all, is it?” Eldryn asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roland said as he focused his attention on readying his saddle and equipment.
“You have to prove to yourself that you are still a brave warrior, and you want revenge for what Daeriv has done to these people,” Eldryn said.
Roland did not answer. He continued to adjust the saddle on his horse and tie down his equipmen
t.
“Roland, pride and revenge should not be a knight’s driving force.”
“The end justifies the means. If I can strike a blow against Daeriv, regardless of my motives, it is still a blow struck for those in the right. I will not be remembered for running.”
“Do you really still not understand?” Eldryn asked. “Roland, what makes us right is our motives, not our actions. You ran to get that sword to the Prince. You ran in the hopes that, with it, he could lead his armies to victory and free these people.”
Eldryn saw a familiar look in Roland’s eyes. He knew then there was no point in further talk.
“I’ll tell the men to get ready,” Eldryn said with a resigned sigh.
“You already took care of paying them and sending money to Cambri’s family?”
“I did,” Eldryn said.
“Tell them I will pay them each a gold coin per day,” Roland said. “But, El, let them know how dangerous this is going to be. Make sure they understand that there is no need for them to volunteer. They have done what we have asked. Our bargain is complete and those children are safe because of their help.”
Eldryn met Roland at the stables two hours later as the sun reached the height of his pass over the land. Kodii, Tindrakin, Facl, and Pala were with him.
“Tribe,” was all Kodii said when they approached.
“Tindrakin will ride with us,” Eldryn said. “The others declined, but wanted to say so face to face.”
Roland smiled, “well then, I guess you are smarter men than we are,” he said to Facl and Pala. “How is Tyll?”
“He heals, slowly but surely,” Facl said as his eyes drifted toward the ground. “Roland, we are simple soldiers and are not the sort of men for what you have planned. We would like to…”
