The Wildcat of Braeton

by Claire M Banschbach

  Years ago, he had met Aiden in Aredor and gave him passage to Gelion. Mustafa found Aiden work in the city as a squire to the men-at-arms in the governor’s palace—a job that appealed to a young, adventurous boy. There, Aiden put aside his claymore and learned to use the double swords. Living in a port town, he saw many people from foreign lands. His curiosity was aroused, and Aiden decided to travel again. Mustafa again helped, taking Aiden with him on a trip to Calorin. There, Aiden struck inland, and Mustafa went back to the sea.

  After he had washed and dressed in clean clothes, a servant came and escorted him to dinner. They passed rooms with merchandise from many countries: fine rugs from Argus, vases and incense from Calorin. The floors were tiled in mosaics in the tradition of Gelion. Tables and furniture were made from the finest wood of Durna, and Mustafa wore an ornate dagger of Aredorian make.

  Aiden greeted the merchant’s wife, a beautiful woman with the wavy dark hair and olive skin of Gelion. The couple’s four children ate with them, and the boys stared in fascination as Aiden related story after story over a meal of fresh fish, bread dipped in olive oil, wine, and melon, all grown in the lush, green hills of Gelion.

  The house rose early the next morning to bid farewell to their master. Mustafa would be gone for weeks trading all along the northern coast from Durna to Cyndor. Aiden bid farewell to Mustafa’s wife, thanking her again for her hospitality. He and Mustafa walked down to the harbor where Aiden took Narak aboard the ship and settled him in the hold next to several other horses Mustafa was transporting. He made his way back up to the deck as the sailors prepared to cast off.

  Unlike other ships, Mustafa had no soldiers. His sailors all carried weapons, for Mustafa was, as he put it, a fighting merchant. A fresh wind sprang up, filling the sails and propelling them out into the Masian Sea. Aiden took a deep breath of the tangy salt air and smiled. The wild forests of the North called. He had had enough of flat plains and deserts. He was ready to go home.

  Chapter 4

  Corin led his men along the Lynwood Track. They had just finished a circuit patrol through Dunham Forest and were headed home to Kingscastle. It had been over a year since the Calorins had been driven out of Aredor, but the country was still trying to rebuild.

  Corin was also reconstructing the Hawk Flight, the warband that he had formed in the war. They had become known as Aredor’s last warband and under his leadership had fought the Calorins. Their secret cave in the forest was seldom used but kept fully provisioned in the event of another attack that Corin felt sure would come eventually.

  Lynwood Keep, the forest castle, could not yet boast a full garrison so the Hawk Flight helped to run regular patrols through the forest. Lynwood Keep was not the only garrison short of men. The war had taken its toll on Aredor, and they were desperately short of warriors. Many had survived and had lived in hiding in the villages and towns, but they were not enough to bring the warbands back to their former strength. The Calorins had killed every officer they could find during the invasion, and Corin and his brother, Darrin, were hard pressed to replace those men.

  As Kingscastle came into sight, a lone figure rode to meet them.

  “Kara,” Corin greeted the rider.

  A cheerful young woman dressed in the uniform of the Hawk Flight saluted. “Captain, Prince Darrin wants you tae meet him on the training grounds, sir.” The soft brogue of the Braeton Clans crept through her voice.

  “Did he say why?” Corin asked.

  “No, sir, not really.”

  Corin scowled. “I hate it when he does this. All right, I’m on my way.”

  “Permission to come along, Captain?” a lieutenant asked.

  “Granted, Martin. Flynn, you’re in charge,” Corin said to another man who wore the silver hawk feather brooch of a lieutenant.

  Corin and Martin broke away from the warband and followed Kara around the town and across the river to the training grounds on the east side of Kingscastle.

  The three riders threaded their way around groups of men training with broadswords, longbows, and spears, both on foot and on horseback. Kara led them toward the center of the grounds where a group of men stood.

  Prince Darrin stood with Tristan and Trey, the brothers from Castle Martel by the sea, who had both served in the Hawk Flight as lieutenants during the war. They greeted Corin and Martin as they rode up.

  “Anything to report?” Darrin asked.

  “No, it was quiet,” Corin replied. “But I don’t think you asked me out here to talk about the patrol.”

  Darrin sighed. “You’re always too direct, Cor. Truth is, Tristan wanted to ask you a favor.”

  Corin turned questioningly to Tristan. The brothers’ father had died in the war, and Tristan now wore the ornate golden belt of a lord across his chest.

  “There’s a minor lord whose fief isn’t far from Castle Martel,” Tristan began. “He was one of the lords whom the Calorins allowed to remain in control of his lands in the war. He has one son, his pride and joy. It’s his wish that his son fight in the King’s warband—most specifically, the Hawk Flight. He seems to think that his son will come home with high honors because of that and maybe erase the fact that he served the Calorins.”

  “Well, what’s the young man like?” Corin asked.

  “Like a gigantic thorn in your foot!” Trey said.

  Corin raised an eyebrow. Trey was not known for his patience but, as his close friend, Corin put some stock in Trey’s opinions.

  “Ah, yes. I sent Andras with Trey on a coastal patrol and, um, Trey almost killed him,” Tristan said.

  “No, I suggested maiming for life,” Trey said darkly.

  Martin laughed. “Sounds horrific, but I still don’t think anyone could be that bad.”

  Trey gave him a haunted look. “Tristan, why don’t you call him over and introduce him to the captain?”

  Tristan signaled to two young men who stood some distance off. “There’s another young man that Andras forces to go with him. You’d do me a big favor if you could take them both off my hands, Corin.”

  “It’s about time! How long did you expect me to wait?” a dark-haired young man asked.

  Corin looked him up and down. He couldn’t be more than twenty-one years old. He wore clothes of the finest make and carried a sword with a decorated hilt. Brown eyes stared haughtily from his finely chiseled features. His companion was dressed more simply and carried a serviceable sword. He seemed about the same age as Andras, but less sure of himself.

  “Well?” Andras demanded.

  Corin shot a sideways glance at Darrin, who raised his shoulders as if to say “He’s all yours, brother.”

  “What’s your name, boy?” Corin asked.

  “Andras, son of Cadoc,” Andras answered proudly.

  “Never heard of him,” Corin replied coolly.

  Trey and Martin grinned knowingly at each other.

  “And yours?” Corin addressed the other young man. Andras began to answer, but Corin cut him off. “I asked him.”

  “Evan, sir,” the man stammered, seeming surprised at being addressed directly. Andras glared angrily at Corin.

  “Now, let me introduce myself. I am Prince Corin, acting commander of the King’s warbands and Captain of the Hawk Flight. Lord Tristan has asked if I will take you into my warband. That decision will come after you both pass the training courses. You two are dismissed. Lieutenant Marc!” Corin called.

  A grizzled warrior wearing a silver-buckled cross belt came up and saluted.

  “Assign them separate bunks in the barracks. See that they know the rules and are out here early tomorrow morning with Flynn,” Corin ordered.

  “Aye, sir.” Lieutenant Marc saluted again. “This way, lads.” He pointed to the castle.

  “I protest! I won’t stay in the barracks!” Andras’ face turned a deep red. “My father wouldn’t allow it!”

  Corin nodded at Marc, who faced Andras.

  “I don’t care who your father is, boy! No one
does here. You’re in the army now and you’ll address those higher in rank by ‘sir.’ The barracks will be your only home from now on. Don’t get smart with me, or I’ll have you flogged!” Marc bellowed in his best parade-ground manner. He led the two men off toward the castle.

  “Nicely handled, Corin,” Darrin said. “I think that was hero worship in Evan’s eyes.”

  “I will permanently resign if Andras gets put in my patrol,” Martin told Corin.

  “Told you, didn’t I?” Trey said.

  “I fully believe you!” Martin slapped his shoulder. “Come on, Trey. I need a drink!”

  “You owe me!” Corin threatened Tristan.

  “It will be good for him, Corin, and you know it,” Tristan said. “He needs to become a man, and he will with some stern discipline.”

  “If he survives that long,” Corin said.

  Darrin laughed. “I still need an official report from both of you. Father will want to hear it too.”

  They left the training grounds and headed toward the castle.

  Corin was glad of the walk. His right leg had been wounded during the time he had spent in Calorin. He had saved Ismail’s life by fighting off an attacking lion, and he now walked with a pronounced limp. He’d always refused to let it stop him, but it had stiffened after the day’s ride. As they entered the courtyard, one of Corin’s men approached.

  “Can I take Zephyr for you, sir?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you, Ian.” Corin handed him the reins.

  “A stranger arrived almost an hour ago. He said he knows both of you,” Ian told Corin before leading Zephyr away.

  They continued up the broad stone steps and through the great oaken doors of the keep. Corin and Darrin went first to find their father. King Celyn was troubled by an old wound from the war that had never fully healed during his imprisonment by the Calorins. He still ruled as king, but Darrin had taken over many of the duties of state, and Corin was given control of the warbands.

  They still reported to him as if he were a commanding officer. King Celyn’s body might have been ailing, but his mind was as sharp as ever before. Corin was still unused to the duties now entrusted to him, and he sought his father’s advice often. He was like his father in many ways, in looks and personality. They both had blonde hair, unusual among the darker headed inhabitants of the North, and Corin and his siblings had all inherited the King’s piercing blue eyes.

  King Celyn met his sons in a smaller council chamber.

  “I don’t know if I would have done the same, Corin,” King Celyn said when they mentioned Andras. “I would have sent that young man off to Burkehead Tower on the border.”

  “I’d almost rather keep him under my eye,” Corin said. “It’ll be an interesting next few months.”

  “I think that’s a bit of an understatement,” Darrin said.

  “Be glad we’re at peace right now. He’d be insufferable on a campaign,” said Celyn.

  Corin shuddered at the thought. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Celyn said. “But a young Braeton came in today. A very interesting young man. He said he wouldn’t stay very long.”

  “Did he come in from the South?”

  “Yes, how did you know?” his father asked.

  “Just a guess.” Corin couldn’t help his grin. He excused himself and went to find Aiden.

  * * *

  Aiden walked through the great hall of the castle, studying the tapestries hanging on the walls. The last time he had been in the castle the tapestries had been torn down by the Calorins.

  “They make for an interesting study, don’t they?” someone said behind him.

  Aiden grinned. “You still sneaking up on people?”

  Corin laughed. “One of many habits I haven’t broken.”

  Aiden turned around. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. It’s good to see you, Corin.”

  “You too,” Corin said. They embraced and Corin stepped back. “Are you finally headed home?” he asked.

  “For a while, at least.”

  “Come on, things have probably changed by now.”

  “If you’re trying to get me to look on the bright side of things, it won’t work,” Aiden warned.

  Corin only laughed. “Well then, you can tell me what happened over the past year at dinner. I have to change. I might be a prince, but I can’t show up dirty to the table.”

  “Are you still patrolling?” Aiden asked.

  Corin nodded. “I’m not entirely convinced that the Sultaan won’t attack again.”

  “I might have some news for you then,” Aiden said. “On my way back my ship stopped in Durna at one of the main trading ports. We docked next to a Calorin vessel. I recognized her flags and markings as one of the Sultaan’s. And there’s more.” He told Corin what Lord Rishdah had confided in him.

  “An alliance with Durna could bring the Calorins over our western border. We’d have a bit of a problem on our hands then,” Corin said thoughtfully.

  “I hate to bring this kind of news,” Aiden said.

  “Aye, but we’d best prepare for anything.”

  Aiden hesitated slightly before speaking again. “I don’t suppose you’ve had much contact with the Clans?” he asked.

  “Mainly with Clan Dyson and Clan Gunlon,” Corin answered. “We don’t have much to do with the others right now. I wish I could tell you something about your family.”

  “That’s all right. To tell the truth, I’m a little nervous about going back,” Aiden admitted with a sheepish grin.

  “I wouldn’t worry. It’s probably only gotten quieter and more peaceful since you left,” Corin said.

  Aiden laughed as Corin strode off, but deep down he felt that something was not right at home. He needed to get back.

  * * *

  Corin went to his room and dressed in clean clothes. Seeing Aiden again brought back more memories. They had become close friends in Calorin after Lord Rishdah found Corin. He’d just reached twenty years old when Rishdah had decided to buy him from Lord Balkor, Corin’s cruel master for the last eight years after slavers had stolen him from Aredor.

  Lord Rishdah had seen something in him and had him trained to join the Phoenix Guard. It was there that Corin had gained experience in the art of war. He served for three years before Lord Rishdah gave him his freedom.

  But by then, Aredor had already been invaded by the Calorins, and Corin had returned to a strange home and a family that had long believed him dead. He became an outlaw and used his knowledge of the Calorins to fight against Lord Balkor. The war neared an end when Corin was captured one day. Unwilling to see him die, Ismail, along with Aiden and Ahmed, sought out Darrin and the outlaws and, with their help, the Aredorians were able to retake their country.

  That had been the last time Corin had seen Aiden. He had missed Aiden’s company. The young Braeton had helped him transition into the Guard, and it was his easy friendship that had taught Corin to trust again. He also felt that Aiden understood him more than Trey, Martin, or Liam ever could because he knew what Corin’s life had been like in Calorin.

  A grey hawk landed on the windowsill. It shook its wings and began preening.

  “Karif, where have you been all day?” Corin asked the hawk in the Calorin tongue. He had found the hawk in Calorin. Its wing had been injured, and after Corin helped nurse it back to health, the hawk remained by his side. It was Karif’s companionship that had led to Corin being called the Hawk. He had to laugh every time he heard that. It had been Castimir’s nickname for him in Calorin.

  The hawk chirped at him and settled down on his favorite perch by Corin’s bed.

  “Aye, I’ll see you later,” Corin said.

  At supper in the hall, Aiden sat next to Corin at the main table and related the events of the past year. Almost unknowingly they lapsed into the Calorin tongue. After eight years abroad, Aiden was still unused to speaking primarily Rhyddan, and they both spoke more
quickly in the southern language. They noticed the looks given them as others heard the strange tongue and they lowered their voices. Many recognized it as Calorin and muttered a curse in remembrance of the years spent under Calorin rule. But no one dared to challenge Corin on his use of the language.

  “Tristan says you owe him a story,” Corin said.

  “Aye, I promised him I’d tell him why I was with Ismail during the war. I guess I should have known he wouldn’t forget,” Aiden said.

  Corin laughed. “Tristan never forgets. And you might have a bigger audience; neither Trey nor Martin likes to be left out.”

  “Just so long as you trust them not to tell everyone who I am. I’d rather the whole North not know that I was here with the Calorins,” Aiden said. “I don’t think anyone else has recognized me yet, except Tristan and your brother.”

  “You don’t have to worry about them,” Corin reassured him. He took no offense at Aiden’s comment. He knew how it looked, but Aiden had chosen to remain with Ismail and Ahmed and return to Calorin after the war had ended. Anyone who did not know Aiden and the part he had played would see him as a traitor.

  After the meal had ended, Corin and Aiden met the others in a secluded room. Aiden was reintroduced to Trey, Martin, and another of Corin’s close friends, Liam. They had all been lieutenants in the warband at the time and therefore knew of Aiden’s involvement.

  Aiden told his story as he promised: how he ran away from home, his journey to Calorin, how he met Corin, and of his service in the Phoenix Guard.

  The others listened with few questions, finally satisfied at uncovering at least part of the mystery of Corin’s friend and the Calorins who had helped in the war.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay awhile?” Tristan asked. “You’ve got more experience than half our warbands combined.”

  “Maybe someday.” Aiden smiled. “So, you’re a lord now?”

  “Aye, our father died in the war, so I’ve taken over Castle Martel. But not a day goes by that I don’t wish I was back with the Hawk Flight,” Tristan said.