Contents
Prelude
Heir's Legacy
Paradise lost
The Journey
A Distant City
New Lives
War's End
Reunion
Dirty Tricks
Wilderness Way
Safe Haven
Civilization
Heading Home
The Long Winter
Nomads Again
The Red Spire
An Improbable Ally
Reevaluation Time?
To The Rescue
Strange New World
New Realities
Going Home
The Long Road Home
A Mostly Bloodless Coup
A Storm Passes
Prelude
The door smashed open, and the armored man lost his balance tumbling into the middle of the Duke's office. “Your Grace, the Prince is dead!”
General Duke Evan Mirron felt his stomach just fall through the floor. This was worse news than he had imagined. With the king on his death bed, and the heir now dead... This almost assured civil war. “What happened?”
Still breathing hard, the armored man struggled to his feet. “Your Grace, it was a hunting accident. He fell from his horse while hunting with his Alorn hostage, and Duke Volhollar.”
Duke Mirron closed his eyes, turned his face to the ceiling and was quietly swearing until he realized he had started repeating himself. He took a deep breath and then turned his attention back to his messenger, “I need to speak to Feylynn and Savon. I don't want to be king, but I don't want a civil war more. I need to figure out if I can somehow ride this whole mess out as neutral.”
The soldier saluted and took off at a run. Duke Mirron let out a great sigh. He wondered if Volhollar had somehow arranged this. If so he would be making a play for throne. Duke Oliver would almost certainly make a bid for it as well, his was the most powerful Dutchy in the realm after all. What he knew for certain was that his Dutchy was not strong enough to withstand a civil war. They had given so much during his service to the Crown over the last decade that they needed to recover, to heal, before being asked to fight again. His veterans deserved more than to be ground up, to be used up in a vein attempt to secure power. Power that would cause him to neglect them even more as greater responsibilities would fall on his shoulders.
The Duke was still going over his maps when Feylynn and a very pregnant Duchess Ferella Mirron joined him his small study. He smiled sadly at them. “Ladies, I am sorry for what I must tell you but fate has once again conspired against us. The Crown Prince is dead, and King Shar'Aviv's health is unlikely to let him see the end of the month.” He rubbed his face and sighed. “We don't have the forces to press my claim, even if I wanted the throne, which I don't. I want to stay neutral, but they will inevitably pull me in if I assemble my army. If I don't rally my forces, then we'll be mostly undefended if attacked”
Feylynn shrugged, “They don't have tzadi on their side, you do.”
Duke Mirron shook his head, “Tzadi have to stay out of this. Oliver will have help from the White Spire if I turn you loose in open warfare. Your people won't allow that.” Feylynn cringed. She didn't want to agree but she knew he was right.
Duchess Mirron rested her hand on her husband's shoulders, “We'll stay neutral. We'll take care of our own people. Let the others fight over the crown if they are that careless. Your theory about the cycles of civilization and human lands shrinking each time we fight each other is probably right. If we fight for the crown, we only participate in our long term destruction.”
Duke Mirron took his wife's hand and kissed it. “We're not fighting for the crown, but for the right to live here in peace.”
Two Days Later...
Savon Franxman arrived at the Duke's Manor house, he was frazzled and hadn't slept in more than thirty hours but he needed to get this report to his Duke. Feylynn met him in the court yard, “You look like hell, is the news really that bad?”
Savon just grunted, “Remember the siege at Armod?”
Feylynn reached for him, and cast Share Energy and relieved his fatigue. Savon just whispered, “Thank you M'lady. He's in his office?”
Feylynn nodded and started leading him down the cool stone hall. Savon stepped in to the Duke's study and saw that his Duke hadn't been getting much more sleep either. “Armies are marching. They aren't even waiting for the old King to die. They could be here inside of two days.”
Duke Mirron bowed his head and let out a long rumbling sigh. “Is your family safe?”
Savon nodded, “Yes Your Grace. I have them well hidden for the moment. It is your family that I fear for.”
Duke Mirron smiled at him grimly, “We're going on the move.” He stood and handed a pile of sealed orders to Savon. “Hand out these orders, then get some sleep. I think we should be on the move again in twelve hours.” He turned to Feylynn, “Faithful tzadi, and friend, go home if you like. You've served me well but this is a fight I may well lose, I would not drag you down with me.”
Feylynn shook her head, “They won't believe that I'm not carrying out your orders. Just as they didn't believe you would remain neutral. Aldus will take my coach and make for the elven border. It should draw off some heat from the rest of us.”
Savon just nodded and saluted as he turned to leave and hand out orders. It wasn't fair for a man who had given so much for his king to find himself hunted rather than rewarded. Still if there was a way out the ol' General would see them through, just has he had many times before.
The Next Day...
Jayen and Jan were driving the rickety old wagon along a back country track heading toward Archive. It wasn't that Archive would be safe, but rather that it would be easy to get lost in, and then slip back out. Their cargo in the back was too precious to be allowed to fall into the hands of the roving armies. Duke and Duchess Mirron, along with Feylynn and her infant daughter were packed in behind grain sacks.
Savon was riding advance scout, looking his disreputable best, and blending in with all of the other vagabonds on the road. All seemed clear, like perhaps the Duke's plans were working and they would all make it, but he knew it never went that easy.
Three Days Later...
In the shadow of the great city of Archive, they were able to get fresh horses and a new wagon, unfortunately they also picked up a tail.
Savon rode ahead, then cut out and around the long way. Looping back he saw one older man obviously shadowing the wagon. Savon recognized the pattern, this was a graduate of the same “Boarding School” that Savon himself had trained at. This man was a professional.
Glad that he hadn't been recognized for what he was by the pursuer, Savon lay his trap. The old man made the top of the next rise just as the sun was setting and distorting the shadows. Savon had been waiting for just this shot for nearly an hour. He made the most of it. The cross bow bolt flew straight out of the glare of the sun and into the forehead of the spy. That one was dead, but they all knew that when he didn't report back, others would be sent looking for him. Professionals aren't allowed to just go missing. It's bad business.
Worst of all, Ferella Mirron went into labor. Feylynn was able to cast illusions to keep them sheltered and hidden while young Echal Mirron made his way into this world. By birthright heir to all he surveyed, but in reality lucky if he sees the next sun rise.
Late that night, despite the deep exhaustion of the near constant magical efforts, Feylynn gasped and called out in grief and despair. Duke Mirron was at her side, “I've got you! What is it? What has happened?”
Through her sobs she managed to gasp, “I felt our bond break, Aldus is dead!”
One Week Later...
Duke Mirron was wipin
g the assassin's blood from his blade and looking at the damage. Feylynn was shattered, and Ferella wasn't healing well after the baby. Despite what magics Feylynn could spare, the situation didn't seem to be improving.
This might have been a sole assassin, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that eventually the roving patrols wouldn't get lucky. Each attack left them weaker. This was a losing game, and Duke Mirron knew it. It was time to hide the children and lead the troops away. He called Savon and Jayen to him that evening and explained the situation. Feylynn cried at the thought of being separated from her tiny Shadrea but she knew this was the best chance for them to survive. Ferella was too weak to protest, but despite the Duke's urging that she go and help raise their son, she wouldn't be parted from him.
In the morning Jayen and Jan, loaded three small infants into a basket on the back of a pack horse and headed off to find a remote village to begin a new life. It wasn't the life they planned, but it should be a safe place to sit out the war. Raise their little family in peace until the Duke and Duchess could return
Savon Franxman, loaded up the wagon and enough coin to sink into the role of merchant trader. It would allow him to be out in the world. Eyes and ears for his Duke and protection of the tiny heir.
Feylynn, Duke and Duchess Mirron cut out due north as if trying to make it over the spine of the world. They were not quiet. They flew away on conjured wyvern. They flew over populated areas to draw pursuit. Anything to keep the roving bands away from one little basket and it's precious cargo.
Twelve Days Later...
Jayen viewed the ruins of the smithy. He knew he didn't have all of the skills he would need but for this tiny town he would suffice. Hopefully it wouldn't be for long. With any luck the Duke would rally his army and they could join up. Or at least he would receive word where to meet them in their exile. For now though, a smith's life was a good one. The work was honest and plentiful and the remote village was all a man could hope for to raise a strong family.
Much was lost to the fog of war...
Fourteen Years Later...
Savon arrives in town much like he had every year since. This time Jayen could tell it was different. This time the news wasn't good. Jayen shooed Echal and Pavel out of the smithy and back to their mother. “I can see it isn't good.” Jayen said with a sigh.
“Oliver's men have found you.” He rubbed his hands over his face, “Forgive me but I led them directly here. They have my daughter.”
Jayen sighed a long sigh. “You did right. We fight them better together than you could have alone. Come, we need to have a long talk with the children.”
Heir's Legacy
by
Vlad ben Avorham
Paradise lost
The Attack
Echal Mirion was sweating more than he ever had in his father's forge, despite the cool early morning air. This was his plan; if it went wrong, his whole family would pay the price. He checked his bow hidden between the lead horses of the "stuck" wagon. It was a special bow of his own design. Just short of his fourteenth birthday he didn't have the arm strength to master a proper war or even a good hunting bow, so in his fathers forge he crafted a ratcheting mechanism to allow him to pull the bow many times each one adding power to the pull, then with one final release of the mechanism the full power would be sent to the arrow. He had obsessed over preparing this shot, he knew he wouldn't have time to prepare a second shot before the pursuing soldiers were swarming them. He wasn't much in an up-close fight; his older brother and father would have to do most of the fighting. This was his one chance to take the heat off of them and he couldn't miss.
Pavel Smith was at the back of the wagon, he wasn't sure his brother's crazy idea would work but they couldn't just run. Oh despite his impressive size, that would have been his preferred option, but the trader who warned them, instead of setting them all up as he was ordered to do, had his only daughter being held by these bastards. Pavel wasn't fool enough to want to take on an unknown number of the king's soldiers but he wasn't about to betray a man who took such risks to help them.
Beside Pavel was a large burly man in his late forties. The shoulders of Jayen Smith bulged out past the old breast and back plate that he hadn't worn since his youth. Giving his best set to Pavel he regretted not spending more time resizing this suit, but he had thought his days of fighting were over. With the disappearance of General Mirion more than a decade ago now, the raging war of succession always seemed distant to their little mountain village. This wasn't a forlorn hope, but he had seen too much of battle to believe he wouldn't be mourning the loss of one or more of his little family before the sun set.
Tiny Rea, was wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the seat of the wagon. She was the same age as her brother Echal but as an Elf that meant she was no bigger than a human six-year-old. She was frustrated, she had no way to help. Oh, she was smart and a dead shot with her little bow. A bow that was scant threat to an unarmored man much less a full armored soldier. Chal had promised to make her a bow like his, but hadn't gotten around to finishing it, so now she was sitting here useless when everyone's life depended on it. Still she had one advantage and now was the time for her to use it. Down the little mountain track, she hears the faint sound of horses and men in rapid pursuit of the wagon. "They're coming" she said just loud enough to be heard.
With the warning, all the men started shouting to each other and at each other as if they were trying to dislodge the stuck wagon. The five armored men pounded up the narrow track, seeing the stranded wagon. The first two in the ranks let out a war whoop and pushed a head of the remaining three. Echal was just thinking, so far so good when his heart sank and his blood ran cold. The last man in the file was heavily armored and obviously the patrol's captain. What froze Echal to the very core of his being was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in this world was being roughly held in front of the captain. Wild masses of flame red hair streamed in the breeze framing the porcelain face that was a total mask of rage and anger.
Echal retrieved his bow and readied the arrow.
His brother and father each pulled their great bearded axes from the bed of the wagon and retreated one around each side, forcing the soldiers chasing them to split and eventually dismount in an effort to get around the wagon on the narrow road.
Echal stood on the traces between the draft horses. His breath pulled in and caught for only a moment. There really was no other option he thought as the knife in the free hand of the captain made its way up toward her exposed neck. Don't take the shot and we can't fight with him threatening her. Take the shot and miss and his life is over, having the destruction of something so beautiful on his hands would break him. The only path that led to a future was to stick to the plan. His aim came up smooth and steady despite the stakes. His thumb hit the release. The full strength of the bow smoothly snatched the arrow from his right hand, and he exhaled in a long fervent prayer to any benevolent spirits who would help him that this shot was true.
Catrin was held one moment and felt the man holding her go slack the next. The whistle of the arrow and the screech of the ripping steel were just now impacting on her awareness. That boy had done it. Put the arrow through the helm and skull of this beast, who had been whispering the most vile threats to her for the last three days. She knew she didn't have time to gloat though; she collapsed forward and wrapped her still bound hands in the horse's mane and urged him into a full gallop back down the mountain trail at breakneck speed.
Echal was elated but there was no time to celebrate. Pavel and his father each were fighting for their lives and two more horsemen were coming. "Rea, Now!" he shouted and watched as his tiny sister released the break on the wagon. Far from being stuck, it was set to roll down the mountainside. The horses realized their danger before their riders and bucked them both to the ground as they bolted. One soldier was able to land out of the path of the out-of-control wagon, the other wasn't so lucky and was crushed beneath the iron-bound wheels.<
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Rea had fallen off the wagon seat and into the road. Over the clamor of battle, you could hear her laughing maniacally at the unfortunate solder under the wagon. The one who hadn't been crushed under the wagon was attempting to struggle to his feet. It was short lived as from her camouflaged perch Jan Smith put first one arrow in his ass and then one through his neck. Echal thought for a moment that no one wanted to mess with his mamma if they were trying to hurt her family.
With the wagon coming to an unceremonious rest, Echal, could now see his father finish his fight. Pavel though was still struggling, his opponent was on his back but try as Pavel might he couldn't force his ax down and in to his enemy. Echal dove for the prone man with his knife out and while the man was occupied, Pavel drove the blade deep into his neck severing both the carotid artery and jugular vein. The end was mercifully quick.
As he lay there in the little dirt track, trying to catch his breath, he couldn't process what had happened. The whole fight was all over so quick. He estimated from the first attack until now wasn't more than two dozen heart beats. Even as fast as his heart was beating now. Was this what his life was to be now?
Before and After
Reunited after the battle the beleaguered family gathers spooked horses and stripping armor and weapons from the fallen. These can always be resold and if the truth be told, makes anyone who might find the body less able to identify who and what they were. Savon Franxman the trader comes whistling up the trail, holding his daughter tight and leading a string of packhorses.
Heir's Legacy Page 1
