Beyond The Wall

by Wil Clayton

  Chapter 2

  Orleena had only ever seen the city from above, walking amongst the crooked collection of walls and doors felt strange and wrong. The streets of the city were a maze of stone bridges and wooden planks secured to chunks of dirt that sat in the thick, muddy waters of the swamp.

  People pushed small carts and wagons through the thin streets, some were laden with stews and roasted meats, other with crates of clothes and other goods. A man dressed in fine, black robes and small spectacles held to his face ran through the streets pushing others aside as he went, large tomes of paper bound in leather tucked, securely, under his arm. A woman, followed by her a handful of children, wound her way through the streets with baskets balance precariously on their heads.

  Orleena gripped Pa’s hand tight, she had never seen so many people and she was worried she would be lost in sea of the bodies that rushed by. But as they approached the crowd parted, some of the people in the black robes bowed low, others in muddied clothes just stared and muttered amongst themselves.

  “Good to see you home,” a call came from the crowd.

  “The Dragondogs never stood a chance,” came another.

  Orleena was startled by the word Dragondog. Once, she had heard the word from her guards in the hall and then Orleena had repeated it in front of Shepherd Elor. Orleena had never seen Shepherd Elor so angry with her, Orleena was lectured the rest of day about the use of such language.

  “Such a word is a word only the worst of the common people use to describe the Dun,” huffed Shepherd Elor red is the face, “but a Princess must never to use such words. Not in public. Not in private. Never.”

  She was then forced to read aloud a book of history of the Dun until her tutor believed she had learnt her lesson. She never again used any of the words she heard from the guards in front of the Shepherd again, though when he was a not around she would often say the forbidden words to the kitchen hands who would laugh and encourage the young Princess to say more. Over time she had learnt all manner of forbidden words.

  Pa limped through the city and led the way up the road to the Royal Keep, eventually reaching its large gate. Orleena looked up at the walls, they seemed much more imposing from below then from her tower.

  The guards snapped their feet together.

  “Low King Soven approaches,” they called into the yard.

  Her father limped up to the gate.

  “You will announce my daughter, Orleena,” he growled.

  “Yes, my lord,” said the young guard nervously from under his helm and then called, “Princess Orleena approaches.”

  Pa nodded and limped under the large stone arch.

  “See,” said Pa looking down at Orleena with a smile, “you’re safe here. All the guards are going to watch out for you.”

  The brown of the swamp vanished inside the walls of the keep and was replaced her by the bright green of the gardens of the Royal Keep. Lines of flowers formed neat shapes around wooden tables and large grass areas where men and woman in all manner of formal dress chatted amongst themselves. Guards patrolled paths of the garden while others stood like statues at the doorways that lead off into the different wings of the keep.

  Pa limped straight ahead to the largest of the arches, which led into a giant square building in front of them, a silver dome on top sparkled in the midday sun.

  The corridors of the building went in all directions, meeting stairs that sometimes went down and sometimes went up. Orleena, accustom to the ringed halls of her tower, had lost any sense of direction by the time her father stopped in from of a set of red doors.

  Pa knocked.

  “Enter,” called a young male voice from inside.

  Pa pushed opened the door. Inside a large, marble room stretched out in all directions, an open balcony opposite the door let in the warm spring sunlight. A large, wooden, four post bed with golden curtains sat in the centre of room. Exquisite geometric shapes had been rendered in the tiled floor.

  Orleena saw him first, a young, square boy of about ten dressed in the a red tunic, the Silver Willow tree sown into the chest. His head was large and fat, topped by short, brown hair that curled slightly on itself. By the walls watching on was a slender, man in orange robes his face bloodied and swollen, his long, slender nose cut viciously to the right of his face, his eyes circled by black and grey.

  Pa led Orleena into the room, the boy jerked strangely as the pair entered.

  “Orleena, this is Olav, your brother,” said Pa looking down at her, “Olav, do you remember your sister Orleena?”

  “Yes, Pa,” replied the boy with a stiff nod.

  “Do you have something to say to her?”

  Her brother walked up to her and took her in his arms with a forced, lifeless hug.

  “I was lied to, sister, I said things a brother should never say,” the boy said, “will you forgive me?”

  “Orleena, do you forgive your brother?” asked Pa.

  Orleena was confused, she was not sure what was happening, but she knew enough to know her brother was saying sorry what had kept her in tower.

  “I forgive you,” she said quickly, not knowing if she meant the words.

  Pa released her hand walked to over the broken man watching on.

  “Do you see my family, Raol?” growled Pa and he spat in the man’s face, “we have bond that can never be broken. You’re a fool and traitor.”

  Pa took a baton from his belt and struck the man. Raol yelped, but did not scream, and fell to the ground, blood started to pool on the floor where he lay. Pa tore a tapestry from the wall and threw it at the cowering man the wooden rod cracked against the man’s skull causing him to let out another cry.

  “Bandage yourself,” ordered Pa.

  The pitiful man pulled himself from the ground, blood running across his face, as Pa stood above him, watching the man started to wrap the tapestry about his head, as he did it started to turn red and black.

  “Guards,” barked Pa.

  Two guards appeared at the opened door.

  “Take Raol to dungeon, find the deepest the hole and throw him in,” commanded Pa, he then knelt next to the snivelling man and said quietly, “two months, I will come then, if I remember.”

  Pa stood and as he did he pushed the man again, so he now lay completely on the ground.

  Raol was then dragged from the room by the guards as they passed Orleena looked at the bloody man and felt for the first time that her father had truly returned to protect her.

  “Do you like birds?” asked Olav once the clank of the guards armour had faded to nothing.

  “Yes,” shrugged Orleena feeling it was not right to say no.

  “I have a bird feeder on the balcony, want to see?” Olav asked excitedly.

  Orleena nodded and Olav grabbed her hand and started leading pulling her through the room.

  “There’s always a lot in morning,” he started, “but they’ll go away at midday ‘cause its too hot. One morning and there was a huge bird as big as a hound, its called a Tornfel. It’s the tiger of the sky. It was eating the other birds, making a huge mess, it was amazing. It walked right into my room, I even got one of it feathers. Shepherd Yorwyn says its good luck and it was, that day I won three games of Caravan. Straight.”

  Olav had now dragged Orleena through the curtains to the balcony, some small, white birds pecked at the seed in the bird feeder. There was a single bird of red and blue plumage

  “Who are you playing Caravan with?” asked Pa sternly walking behind them.

  “Ah,” Olav stopped and thought for a moment, “friends.”

  “Which friends?”

  “The stableboy and some boys from the city.”

  “What are their names?”

  “The stableboy’s name is Ron,” said Olav and grabbed Orleena, “look at that one, Orleena. He’s new.”

  Olav pointed at the red-blue bird.

  Orleena looked at the birds, they were the same birds that pecked at the grass below he
r window, she turned away and looked out beyond the balcony. Below, she saw a rose garden alive with the blue and yellow roses of early spring. The pathways were covered by white stone which sparkled in the morning lift, all which led to a single stone fountain at the centre.

  “That’s mother’s garden,” said Olav noticing Orleena was not looking at the birds, “she used to hold court in it everyday before she got sick. That’s your room, over there, it’s been empty since you left.”

  Orleena looked through the baluster that held the balcony’s rail at the white curtains that rustled in the archways across the garden.

  “Are you moving back, now we’re a family again?” asked Olav.

  “You were always family,” snapped Pa from behind, “and I will be keeping Orleena in the tower for the moment. I need to find room for her servants.”

  There was a knock at the door and Orleena turned around and saw Uncle standing at the door in his purple robes.

  “Uncle, you’re back,” cried Olav and ran though under the white curtains and across tiled floor jumping onto his uncle with all his might, “did you bring me a gift from Edgelight?”

  Pa brushed aside the curtains and led Orleena back into the room.

  “Not now, Olav,” said Uncle lowering Olav to the ground.

  “Sovin, get over here,” said Uncle.

  Pa laughed and limped over to his brother and and hugged him fully, then his eyes went to Orleena.

  “I see you’re out of your tower,” said Uncle.

  Orleena ran over to him and hugged him, she was happy to finally see a familiar face.

  “It’s good to see you, Uncle,” she said quietly as she let go and stepped back.

  “What happened?” asked Uncle pointing at Pa’s leg, “the Dun actually land a blow.”

  “The Dun fight like they always have,” laughed Pa and then added more seriously, “this ones from the Old Woods.”

  “The Old Woods?” Uncle laughed, “you have been out the city for a while Soven, the tales from the northern pits are tired at this point, what really happened to your leg?”

  “They are not tales, brother,” said Pa shaking his head, “that place is truly cursed. I did not believe what was said either but my wounds are a testament to the fact that what I saw was real.”

  “Tell me about the Old Woods, Pa?” begged Olav excitedly.

  “Yes, Sovin,” said Uncle rolling his eyes, “tell us your horrifying tale.”

  “Well, son, it was year ago. We had the Lowlands secured. Our forts and walls were keeping the Dun at bay and the man were in good spirits,” started Pa sitting down on the end of the large bed, Olav sat in front, “when Grand Pa said to me, ‘Sovin, you must take the Old Woods’. He was worried that if the Dun could get some units through the trees and then they could take out our men from behind.

  “So, I rallied forty Clanguard and twenty trackers and headed west to scout the forest and in search of some good position to erect some forts.

  “We rode for three days until we reached the edge of forest. The trees were so thick we had to leave our horses at edge, hoping they wouldn’t be taken by bandits. The trackers went first hacking away the undergrowth clearing the way for Clanguard and me, who followed behind.

  “We were a day or so into woods making steady progress when the leaves above began to shake, we looked up but saw nothing. No shape. No shadow. Just the leaves moving on their own. Then there was a sound like wood cracking and coming apart just beyond the trees and then another spot in the canopy shook.

  “A tracker screamed and was gone. I had the men make a circle as best we could within the trees and watched the branches above. The trackers held their nerve in the centre as the forty Clanguard that surrounded them and drew their swords. The cracking sound came again and another spot in the canopy moved. I yelled at the men to keep in formation and then another scream from the other side of circle.

  “Men shouted, I looked around and saw nothing. Then a vine, moving on its own, viciously snapped at the air in front of me, I ducked back just in time not to lose my head to it and the circle broke.

  “A hundreds vines came from inside the tree trunks, themselves, exploding outwards causing splinters to wood to fly through the air. It took men by the neck and strangled them until their heads popped from their bodies, others vines slashed through the air, cutting a man clean in half as though his leather armour was nothing. Luckily, my metal armour was able to withstand the blow I took to chest but the force knocked me through the air four feet, I felt one of my ribs crack under the pressure. When I hit the ground I looked up and saw a face of black fur sitting within the holes in tree trunks.

  “Then I felt something against my leg, a vine had wiggled its way under my armour and had now started to dig itself into my flesh. I felt it start to suck at my flesh, I grabbed for my sword a few feet away and sliced the vine at where it entered my armour. But even though I had sliced the vine from its master, I could still feel it writhing and trying to bury deeper into my leg.

  “Then it climbed from the canopy, gripping the side of a tree, it looked like a wild cat, it was bright yellow, the size of a room, its tail a plumage of silver feathers…”

  “Like a takwak?” asked Olav breathlessly a type of bird with a huge array of tale feathers which Orleena had learnt about from Shepherd Elor.

  “Just like a takwak, but these feathers glinted in the light like they were made of polished metal. The thing roared so loud I had to cover my ears from the pain when it did its metal tail rattled and they started to slice into the tree. The vines pulled back from clearing and the faces were gone from the tree trunks, before bursting from a tree trunk next to the beast. The vines pulled the beast from its perched and wrestled with giant cat high above the forest floor.

  “Seeing the opportunity, I screamed at my men to run. I grabbed a petrified tracker cower behind a tree and slapped him back to his senses. ‘Show us the way,’ I shouted at him and the man picked himself and fled into the woods. I threw off my helmet and pursued him as quickly as I could, the vine still digging into me.

  “The tracker led us back, only five other men followed out of those woods. The rest lost inside.”

  “That’s amazing,” said Olav excited.

  Orleena sat quietly and listened, her father was a hero.

  “I removed my armour the moment we were beyond the trees and had the tracker cut the vine out. It still whipped at the air as he gripped it, and it even tried to stab itself into his face, we threw the damn thing into the campfire and flames screamed and turned purple as it burnt.

  “I returned to my father with what remained of my men and told him we had no fear of Dun making it through that place.”

  “That was quiet something, Sovin. Five years and your tales are more unbelievable than ever,” said Uncle with a chuckle, “Olav will be telling that story for weeks.”

  “It is no tale,” said Pa shaking it head, “you should go and see for yourself, the Hallowmen of the north speak the truth. The beasts that destroyed the God’s Isle haunt that place now.”

  “Don’t forget that part, Olav,” laughed Uncle, “it’s a great way to end the story.”

  “Tell me of the capital, then,” said Pa an annoyance in his voice, “how have the years treated you?”

  “The treasury empties slowly, but it should be full again soon. The court is brimming with the same thankful and grateful people that I now know me by name, most don’t even bother calling prince anymore, what need is their formalities amongst old friends,” said Uncle shaking his head, “the merchants have grown skittish, we almost had rebellion on our hands but we dealt with that quickly enough. The ones that are left are excited with the news of peace, eleven years is a long time to sit on tar reserves. Some of them say the price will triple once the caravans and ships start to move again.”

  “Only a poor merchant would sell it for triple,” said Pa, “The Kaborn have half heartland now and have set their eyes on the east. The tar is
the only thing thats going to keep them at back.”

  Uncle simply nodded.

  “Nothing to say?” Pa said.

  “What more is there to say?”

  “Boasting, gloating, this is your victory, you bastard,” cheered Pa and was on his feet, “you knew all this would happen, you have the foresight of a soothsayer, I always said so.

  “It worked, just as you said. Granted, it took a little longer to starve them then we thought, but you knew they would fall apart without their precious tar and now that the Kaborn are at their necks we have even more time to fortify our empire.”

  “I am sure that is what the history books will record,” said Uncle with a wave of his hands.

  “Brother, if you seek a different glory, then take our Clanguard. Take them all,” said Pa as he moved towards his brother and took him by the shoulders, “the Lowlands are free for the taking, if you will, take to the western swamp and settle a city all of your own, go to the Old Woods and make a cloak of the cat beast to rival that of Roland’s. Do as you will now, you have earned it.”

  “I plan too, Sovin,” said Uncle flatly.

  “Are you taking all the Clanguard?” asked Olav.

  “Yes,” said Uncle was a smile and Pa laughed.

  “Where are you going to take them? I need it for the map,” Olav jumped up from the floor and raced to the corner of the room.

  “Show Orleena your map,” said Uncle.

  “Look at this, Orleena,” called Olav from the corner.

  Orleena walked over to the tall table and pulled herself up onto a chair and what she made her eyes wide, a map of Hallows swamp, the Lowlands and the Old Woods to the north. The map also showed the coast curving to the east running past the kingdom of Sylaway and then continued east to the Golden Throne.

  Little wooden figurines painted all different colours sat atop the leather map. It was just like the map that she saw in Da Raloff’s study, which Orleena was never allowed to touch.

  “The red are for Hallow’s Army,” Olav explained, “the blue are the Clanguard, the brown are the mercenaries, the orange are the Dun and yellow is the Imperials.”

  He took the four blue figures and moved them down to Hallow’s Keep.

  “Now father is back, the Clanguard are back in Hallow’s Keep.”

  “I want a map of my own,” cried Orleena jumping up and down on the chair, “Da Raloff won’t let me touch hers.”

  “I will get one made for you, immediately,” cheered Pa.

  “I need a Purple Man,” she cheered, “for Da Raloff’s guard.”

  “How do you know about that?” asked Pa sternly and Orleena went still.

  “Da Raloff’s guard?” asked Uncle just as sternly.

  Pa turned to his brother with a wide smile.

  “I have made Da Raloff the captain of the new guard,” he said sheepishly.

  “You’re back for one day,” scolded Uncle, “and you’re already causing me headaches.”

  “You know how I am.”

  All Pa got in reply was a heavy sigh.

  “Here take this,” said Olav handing Orleena a red figurine, “you can use it on your new map.”

  The sound of armour came through the door and a large, square man in grey, dented armour walked hard into the room, his posture hard and upright.

  “Uncle,” said Pa quietly and bowed his head.

  “That’s Uncle Frank,” whispered Olav to Orleena, “don’t say anything and get down from the chair.”

  Orleena jumped down from her chair looked up the man named Uncle Frank. He hid his face behind a large, dark grey beard. What Orleena could see of his eyes looked wrinkled and tough.

  “It’s time for Olav’s training,” he said gruffly.

  He looked around the room for a moment and noticed the pool of blood in the corner.

  “Who’s blood is that?” growled Uncle Frank walking up to the two brothers.

  “Roal’s,” said Pa quickly.

  Uncle Frank fixed his eyes onto Pa and Pa returned the stare. Slowly, Uncle Frank removed his right gauntlet and held it out for Uncle to take, which he did without a word.

  Pa waited for a moment and then he was no longer standing straight as a hard hand came across his face.

  “We do not spill the blood the of own,” barked Uncle Frank his voice echoed across around the room and Orleena jump and felt Olav tense beside her, “you return from the battlefield a weak and worthless creature, Sovin.”

  “Yes, uncle,” said Pa quietly looking back again.

  The second Slap caught him off guard and this time his knee slipped from underneath him.

  “Is this what is left of the boy I trained, have you spent so long in Lowlands with the outsiders you have forgotten who you are?”

  Uncle Frank screamed at the collapsed form of Pa, Orleena stepped back from the ogre that was attacking her father. Pa pulled himself up.

  “Forgive me, uncle,” said Pa softly.

  “You are not worthy of anyone’s forgiveness. You are lucky I am not your father, I’d have your right hand for this,” yelled Uncle Frank.

  “Yes, uncle.”

  “And in your son’s room, is this the father you are going to be for your children?”

  There was a moment of silence between the two.

  “No, uncle,” said Pa, finally.

  “You will clean your mess with your own hands. No servants will come to this wing today.”

  “Yes, uncle.”

  “Where is the Raol, now?”

  “The dungeon,” said Pa as his cheek began to burn red.

  “Good and that is where you should have sent him to start with.”

  “Yes, uncle.”

  Uncle Frank did not look away.

  “What is this?” asked Uncle Frank tapping on Pa’s armour.

  Pa was silent.

  “What is this, boy?”

  “My armour,” said Pa through gritted teeth, he looked up at the ceiling, his fist started to tighten at his side.

  “We have guards here to wear the armour, here. And we have Low Kings to wear the robes. There are no battles to be fought in Hallow’s Swamp, you will wear the robes of your station when you are in my keep. March around like a tin soldier in your own tower.”

  “Yes, uncle,” the anger was clear in Pa’s voice as he focused on the ceiling.

  “Welcome home,” said Uncle Frank bluntly.

  Frank approached the two children in corner.

  “Well, lad,” he said, “do you still denounce your sister?”

  “No, sir,” barked Olav.

  “Good lad. Get your sword and wait by the door.”

  Olav scampered to the other side of the room.

  “Orleena,” said Uncle Frank’s as eyes flickered to her, “have they taught you to swing a sword, yet?”

  “No,” said Orleena as strongly as she could, she was not going to be scared of this brute.

  “If you wish to learn come and find me,” he said simply.

  He turned towards the door and whistled loudly, Olav vanished out the door, sword in hand. Frank walked over to Uncle, took the glove and nodded. Uncle simply nodded back.

  “How does my boy fight?” asked Pa.

  “When the bloodlust takes him he fights likes of his grandfather. If you can keep his head on straight and feed him the right books, you might have yourself a good Low King and Commander, one day,” said Frank as he put his gauntlet back on and than lumbered out the door his armour clanking as he did.

  When Frank was gone Pa raised his hand to his cheek.

  “I should has just gutted, Raol,” sneered Pa, “I would have gotten the same the treatment.”

  “Yes, but there would have been a lot more to clean up,” replied Uncle.

  “Why didn’t you stop it?” asked Pa.

  “One moment, I will call back uncle, he can slap you again.”

  Pa raised his hand apologetically.

  “I am sorry, my words were wrong.”

&
nbsp; “The words are not wrong, you were, brother,” snapped Uncle, “Raol was a snake and you left Olav to him while you and Pa were a mile from home. News of a unexpected raid, a successful push by the Imperials would have been enough to send place into madness. I have had to live with that for five years because you don’t know your own Kin.”

  “I thought he was a good man.”

  “He told you what you wanted to hear, Sovin,” spat Uncle, his body suddenly shaking, “and if you are to be the Low King of an empire you need to be better than that.”

  “You are right, brother?” said Pa looking at his feet, ”you’re always right.”

  Uncle sighed heavily and steadied himself.

  “This is not homecoming and I had envisaged,” said Pa lifting his head and smiled.

  “We’ll feast tonight,” nodded Uncle swallowing his anger, “and you can tell your ridiculous stories like you always do.”

  “I should get this room cleaned then.”

  “And you had better hurry, court starts at midday.”

  “What?”

  “Court, brother. You may remember it as one of your many privileges as Low King.”

  “Please, brother, do it today,” pleaded Pa, “I need to spend time with Orleena.”

  “The common folk are crying out to see their Low King again, I would never stand in the way of that,” laughed Uncle shaking his head, “besides I have a dozen people to meet with and explain to each them that they are candidates for captain of the new Imperial Guard and after carefully considering each on their merits their Low King Soven will reluctantly choose one to take the role.”

  “Of course you must, brother,” grinned Pa, “well, if you will excuse us, my people await my judgement. Come, Orleena, we have must hurry.”

  Uncle left first. Pa waited for him to be out of sight before leading Orleena into the hall where he called a guard from his post. Pa passed the guard a few silver swords from a pouch, the guard nodded and disappeared.

  “This way,” said Pa, “I have to get out this armour before Uncle Frank sees me again.”

  Pa led the way down the long halls, passing large double doors at irregular intervals. Finally, they stopped at a set of large golden of doors flanked by two guards. He nodded to them quickly and pushed the door open.

  The room was large and square, tapestries of colours and shapes danced across the wall, ruffling in the soft breeze coming from a half open wooden door at the back. The room was lit by a sky well above a large round wooden table. The table was bare of any papers or ornaments. The uncomfortable, wooden chairs that surrounded it were pushed in so that their backs rested firmly up against the empty table.

  “Wait here,” said Pa, “I will be back in a moment.”

  Pa vanished behind another set of doors to the left.

  Her father reappeared after a good while dressed in purple and gold robes, a white-silver willow tree sown into the front. The robes showed his body clearly, it was smaller then it was with armour, slender and thin rather then square and round. The robes also made him look old, the limp now appeared less a wound won in the heat of battle and more a sign of frailty. The lines in his pale face stood out, his eyes clearly sunken and hollow.

  Orleena did not like the look of man who had emerged from doorway, she preferred the company of the strong, warrior who had returned this morning.

  “Have you ever been to court, Orleena?” asked Pa as he led her out of room.

  “No,” she said and then she found she wanted to say more, “Shepherd Elor has taught me how to act in court.”

  “What did he teach you?”

  “Always stand when the Chair is standing, always bow when the Chair enters and leaves, speak loud and clear when addressing Chair and always do as the Chair commands,” she listed from memory, there was more she knew but she thought that was enough.

  “No, Orleena,” said Pa shaking his head, “that is how you act in court if you are a commoner. The court is our court, it is where we, the descendants of Hallow, give Roland’s justice to the people.

  “When we enter the court today, the people will bow to us, the people will stand when we stand and if they do not listen when we command it, we will make them regret the disrespect of our of ways. Do you understand?”

  Orleena nodded.

  “You must speak, Orleena,” said Pa sternly, “the people must hear your voice when we are in court.”

  “Yes, Pa,” said Orleena, “I understand.”