Ancient Magic

by Blink, Bob

  Rigo took a long swallow from the waterskin. They had been hiding in the cave for more than a day. Soldiers had poked around in the outer area the day before, but none had ventured very deep. From the entrance, the first chamber looked small and unappealing, and none had ventured deep enough to have a chance of finding the concealed entrance to this area. Rigo had snuffed the light from his staff when they had been present. Thankfully, the practice of using dogs to aid in searches was not followed in this part of the country. Their food was running low and they would have to venture out soon, if not the next day, certainly the day after.

  “Your turn,” Rigo said. “What is your tale and how did you come to be marked for execution?”

  Chapter 9

  Fourteen Months Earlier

  Kaler placed his foot in the stirrup and swung his right leg up and over the back of his mount, settling comfortably in the saddle. The horse shifted under him, adjusting to his sudden weight, then settled down passively and waited for Kaler’s command. It felt odd, yet somehow natural to be departing, leaving the home he had known for most of his life. The snow on the heavily forested mountains now remained only at the peaks, which wouldn’t matter as he wouldn’t be headed that way. The ranch, situated in the foothills to the north of the towering peaks was eight day’s ride from Pagner, the capital of Kellmore. That is where he would head, with hopes of finding a place in the King’s Guard. He was certainly skilled enough, but he had been warned by others that without being of noble birth, or at least of the gentry in some manner, his chances were slim of being accepted. He felt the warnings must be false. Why would a man with skill such as his own be turned away because of a simple matter of his birth? In his case, he was the son of a middle class rancher, better off than most, but with no ties to the high-born class.

  Now that it was time to go, Kaler took a moment to fix the details of his home firmly in his mind. It was almost as if he hadn’t seen them each and everyday for so many years. His mother and father had started this ranch, years before Kaler had been born. His eldest brother Teirr had been a mere babe at the time, and his second brother Nyll had come along two years later. Kaler had been a later arrival. Being born almost ten years after Nyll. He’d been only five when his parents had been killed. He could hardly recall them, only that his mother was slight and his father was a darker haired version of his uncle, the man who had raised the three of them. After the deaths, his uncle, who was unmarried and without a family of his own, had returned from the capital where he had been living, and stepped in to act as parent. During the past winter he had died from the common flu.

  Being eldest, Teirr was the rightful heir to the ranch. They had all known that for years, and there was no bitterness between brothers as a result. It was the way these things were done. Kaler might have stayed on, Teirr made it clear that he was welcome, but also that he was now in charge, and he had his own ideas how things were to be run. The fact that he and Kaler had often been at odds as siblings, added to the fact Kaler had practiced the swords with his uncle for years, made them both aware he would leave. Now that the spring was upon them, it was time. He had a full purse, and more to his credit that his brother would hold for him, all his worldly goods of any import, and two horses that were all he felt he would need. In addition to the swift running mount on which he sat, he had a strong packhorse that would carry his supplies.

  Of all his personal possessions, his weapons were the most cherished. While not of the famed Kellmore steel, each was a fine blade with a bit of history to it. He had carefully acquired them over the past few years and with the help of his uncle, once a fighting man himself, had learned their use and was now quite skillful. Only the older belt sword, a one-handed fighting weapon of excellent quality had come from his parent. The small hand knife and the large two-handed Claymore had cost him much of his savings several years back.

  Now twenty years old, standing an inch over six feet, Kaler was muscular and strong, with especially strong arms. He could wield the heavy two-handed sword with ease after spending hours each day in practice. He knew he was skilled, and had shown his ability in the contests held each spring the past two years, winning easily over all opponents.

  “Be well brother,” Teirr said as he walked over and handed up a filled waterskin. “May the Trinity watch over you.”

  That was something Kaler would have expected more from his middle brother Nyll, but of course he was not here. The Trinity, the three gods that most of Kellmore’s population held in reverence, represented another fissure between brothers. Nyll had been a true believer. While Teirr gave the Trinity vocal respect, he didn’t adhere closely to the teachings in his daily life, and Kaler openly expressed doubts about the very existence of the gods. The Trinity, Argoth - the god of harmony, Falen - the god of prosperity, and Banpf - the god of harvest and plenty. If anything, Kaler thought most worshipped Banpf in their attempt to amass the greatest wealth, often without regards to the impact on others.

  Nyll had frequently warned his brothers that their lack of faith would be their undoing, and more than one argument had resulted from the differences in belief. Nyll had left for the monastery two years before, and other than a brief note a few months after he arrived there, the two remaining brothers had heard nothing more from him. It was over a month’s travel to the religious sanctuary, located in the southeast corner of Kellmore, just across the border from Lopal and situated in the foothills of the Southern Ranges that bordered the tropics. That alone made any thought of checking up unlikely, and the note that Kaler had sent back had never been answered.

  “What if things do not go as you expect?” Teirr asked once again. He was one who believed Kaler would find his dreams difficult to achieve. “You know you are welcome back.”

  “Thank you brother,” Kaler replied, although he knew that while Teirr would feel an obligation to providing him shelter and a home, he would be happiest if Kaler found his own way. Kaler was certain that within a few weeks of his departure, Teirr would wed his long time girlfriend and move her into the house. She would not welcome Kaler back, as Kaler had long made it known that he thought the woman to be a scheming witch whose interest in Teirr was his inheritance.

  “If matters are as some say and a position in the King’s Guard is not to be had, I will look to others who can employ one with my ability. The army might be a pathway, and there are those who say war might be on the horizon. War is a time where one can show his mettle and advance more quickly through the ranks. I might be able to find an alternate route to the position I seek.”

  He looked down on his brother. Taller by two inches, and with a less developed and wiry build more suited to ranching, the two brothers could not be mistaken for anything but kin. Kaler took a last quick look around, then reached down and held out his hand. Teirr took it in his own, clasping Kaler’s forearm firmly. “Safe journey, brother,” he said.

  “Be well,” Kaler replied somewhat formally, then broke contact and sat up. He smiled briefly, turned his horse, and with a brief pressure of his knees signaled the animal into a slow trot away from the corral. He stood briefly in the stirrups and turned so he could look back. He lifted his wide brimmed hat and waved it once, then sat back down and let his mind drift forward to the ride ahead. He’d made the trip three times before in his life, so he knew the way, although this was the first time he’d journeyed alone. It was also the first time he would be staying at inns rather than camping out with his uncle, using the wagon for a roof.

  The first few miles took him down the familiar and often traveled rutted dirt road that meandered past the homes of some of his friends. He had said his good-byes, and there was no point in stopping once again. That would only delay him. There were several whom he would miss, but their chosen life style was more like his brother’s. If there was indeed war in the future, he would more than likely see some of his friends again when the King pressed each family to provide men to defend the realm.

  Near the western edge of the
town boundary he passed the path that led to a medium sized cottage on the extensive farmlands where a pair of twins who held a warm spot in his heart lived. The two sisters had vexed him and attracted him at the same time. He had long had somewhat of a sweet spot for the pair, never able to decide which of the two young women he liked best. Both had been openly attracted to him as well, as he’d exchanged a few kisses, and more, with each of them at different times. Had he decided to stay, he would have almost certainly ended up with one or the other, but he had no idea which, or what would have been the relationship with the other. He knew his leaving had left some hurt there, but he could think of no way to mend that. He had to go. Given the girls’ good looks, he knew they would soon forget him. He knew of others who had shown interest in each before, so there was little doubt they wouldn’t be lonely.

  Finally he was beyond the outer ranches and farms, his village fading into the rolling hills behind him. The land began to flatten and he could see for miles ahead of him, although there was little there to be seen. Kaler knew that the country would be open and more than likely free of travelers until he reached the next village, which he should do an hour or so before sunset. He settled into a pleasant gait and followed the road, watching the twists and turns of the river that flowed along side him off to his right.

  The inn he selected at the northern end of the small village was tired and old. The village was really a way point that had sprung up at the intersection of the trail he’d been traveling and a slightly larger and more heavily traveled road that went both east and west from the intersection. Kaler had never been down the road in either direction, but he knew that large farms existed off to the east and later in the season the road would be busy as farmers brought their goods into the capital to sell. Off to the west were more mountains, and the iron rich ores that were the source of the metal that eventually became the famed Kellmore blades. The process involved in crafting the blades was a closely guarded secret, and only a few of the treasured swords were made each year. Someday he would have one, Kaler promised himself. A man needed a goal, and his was to be successful enough at his trade that he carried at least one of the famed blades.

  As he stepped down from his horse, Kaler adjusted his father’s short sword that was strapped across his back. Normally he carried the shorter sword on his left hip, with the larger, two-handed blade, on his back. The dagger always rode on his right hip. While on a horse, he preferred not to have the blade banging against his leg all day. The large sword was therefore on his pack animal, and the short sword had taken its position on his back.

  He decided his belongings would be safe enough for the moment, and headed inside to see to a room. From the few animals he could see in the stable, he didn’t expect to find the inn overly full. As he expected, rooms were plentiful and he was given a room down the hall with a view of the river. The innkeeper said his son would see to Kaler’s horses, so Kaler simply retrieved his travel bags and carried them to the room. Once everything was secure, he returned to the great room where he could order a meal. He had skipped lunch and was hungry. He chose a table in the back where he could watch the entrance and the innkeeper. He only had to wait a few minutes before the serving girl came to see what he wanted.

  The girl was young, with an eye-catching blouse that revealed more than it hid. She was younger than him, a couple of years his junior, with a pleasantly round face and freckles and short brown hair that came just to her shoulders. He knew that the girls who worked in the inns were frequently open to the opportunity to make additional coin and those who dressed provocatively were the ones to ask, but he wasn’t really in the mood. Instead he ordered a tankard of cool ale and some of the stew that was the main, and only, offering that day. The girl took his order, gave him a wink, she’d seen where his eyes had lingered, and hurried off. Maybe he should reconsider, he thought as he watched her walk away.

  After his dinner, he went straight to bed. His waitress appeared to have made alternate arrangements which was just as well. He wanted to leave at first light as he was eager to reach the capital.

  The attack came late in the afternoon four days after he’d left home. He was riding through a wooded flat, following the course of the river as it continued on its serpentine journey toward the capital. Sometimes the river would follow close along the trail, and other times it would wander off. Usually he could hear it, but often it was far enough away that he couldn’t pick it out through the underbrush and frequent stands of yellow leaf trees that were so common in this part of the country.

  There were two of them, and they appeared suddenly on the trail in front of him, one on either side. It was narrow enough here that he had no chance of turning the horses and fleeing back the way he had come before they would be upon him. For that matter, at the time the men appeared, he had no way to be certain that more weren’t behind him. That proved not to be the case, and he was faced with dealing with just two attackers.

  One was a lanky, weasel-faced man with a scraggly beard and a sword held ready in both hands. There was nothing impressive about the sword, and it looked to be more or less the size of the one Kaler carried on his back as he rode. His clothes were ragged with a number of rips and were stained with grease and dirt. The confident grin the rat-faced man gave him showed several missing teeth and a mouthful of badly discolored and poorly aligned chompers that were all in danger of falling out and probably gave the man frequent discomfort and most certainly foul breath.

  The man appeared restless, and kept moving back and forth with his weight moving between his two feet. The second man was altogether different. A true brute of a man, he stood at least four inches taller than Kaler. At six-one, Kaler was well above average height and other than his brother had been the tallest man in his village. The monster in front of him was far larger, and was at least fifty pounds heavier than himself, perhaps more. With a large flat face that held a pair of dark menacing eyes, he carried a bastard sword easily in one hand. The sword was almost as large as the two-handed sword Kaler had strapped onto his packhorse, which meant he had half a foot reach on Kaler, not counting the advantage of the man’s very long and obviously powerful arms.

  This wasn’t a time to be on horseback. There was no room to maneuver in this section of the trail, so with a fluid motion Kaler lifted his left leg over the horse’s neck and slid off onto the ground, smoothly drawing his own sword from the scabbard on his back as he did so. If he couldn’t handle a couple of highwaymen with swords then he shouldn’t be considering the career he had chosen, he reasoned.

  The smaller one moved in on him while he was still in the process of dismounting. What the smaller man lacked in skill he made up in enthusiasm. His blade was constantly on the move, hacking at Kaler in an attempt to quickly make a killing blow, or at least disarm him. Any of the blows would have done serious damage had they landed. The man was far stronger than his thin frame had suggested. Someone without Kaler’s skill and familiarity with swords would have probably been overcome by the onslaught, but he was able to parry the blows, and once settled launch a counterattack of his own which drove the surprised man back several steps.

  The brief retreat of the smaller man gave Kaler a little room to maneuver and occurred just in time as he could sense the giant coming up on his left. He turned to the attack and was just able to get his sword up in time to block the powerful blow that rang against his sword. It was fortunate the man had swung with just the one hand. A two-handed blow at that time might well have stripped the sword from Kaler’s grasp. His hands slightly numb from the impact of the blow, Kaler disengaged and counterattacked, making several quick thrusts that would have taken bites out of the brute’s arms had he not pulled back. Kaler could see this one relied on his immense strength rather than finesse or speed. Feeling the disadvantage of his shorter weapon and arms, Kaler made a feint at the man’s legs to back him up, then turned and delivered a pair of quick blows to the smaller man who had been sneaking up from the other side.


  With both attackers having backed off slightly, Kaler maneuvered for a better spot and worked his way away from the horses which were limiting his ability to move as freely as he would like. He no sooner found a position when the barbarian came at him with both hands on the sword this time. He acted as if he planned to split Kaler from head to crotch with the intended blow. At the last minute Kaler sidestepped, and the blow that had been intended for him sank deeply into the hardwood tree that had been at his back. The sword was buried deep into the green wood, and even the giant was having trouble extracting the blade. This would have been the time to go after the man, but the annoying weasel was quickly moving in hoping to draw blood. Kaler turned to meet the smaller man, moving away from the tree and the giant as he did so.

  Once again they exchanged a series of ringing blows, but Kaler now understood how the man fought and how little of proper fighting he knew. Pretending to be pushed back by the attack, Kaler encouraged an attack to his left side, and sensing weakness there, the lanky highwayman attempted to press his advantage. Kaler waited until the right opportunity presented itself, then suddenly lashed out with a powerful blow. His sword caught the other with his sword arm extended and took it off just above the elbow. Suddenly weaponless and spurting blood from the wound, the man howled as he fell back against a tree for support. He was out of the fight allowing Kaler to turn his attention to the larger adversary, who had managed to free his blade and was advancing on him with an angry look in his eye.

  Kaler knew he could not match this one’s strength and must not let the giant wear him down. He concentrated on deflecting and dodging the larger man’s blows, and scoring small cuts whenever the larger man recovered a little too slowly from a missed or deflected blow, mostly on the hands and forearms. Cut after cut was delivered without seeming to make any impression on the monster, until suddenly the man screamed in rage at the continual wounding, and came at Kaler with renewed energy. The man was fierce, but in his temper had tossed aside what skills he had and left himself open. Despite the tiredness in his arms, Kaler was able to duck under a wild swing that came close to taking his head and expertly thrust into the man’s groin. Blood started flowing down the man’s leg soaking his pants. He bellowed in rage and pain as the sharp blade penetrated his skin.