by Thomas Adams
“You are one to talk my friend but surely even you remember what it was like at that age?”
“You’re jesting Aravin? I canna conceive of such a thing. And you, you’re like a thousand years old now? I am surprised you can remember that far back. Besides, you know I was never that young.”
“Ridynar, give the girl some time. She will come to terms with this in her own way. She will be the stronger for it as well. She has done well and I am glad she has an attachment to the boy. If it comes to pass as we hope, that bond will be sorely needed in the end.
“It will be an adjustment for her. She is already very lonely, troubled and misses her family. It has been some time since she was back. As a matter of fact it may be time for me to take her on a visit to her home. Maybe that will help her get through this.”
Chapter 2
Castle Reave
The Warrior Song, verse 2
The plunging prow of the long ships point at a new horizon
The sun sinks into a sea of molten gold and copper
The unknown beckons and the courageous and curious sail forth
New lands to conquer
Renown and glory are hoisted like a mainsail
Death seeks the brave
Erik the Colder
***
‘Above’ turned out to be Castle Reave or, more specifically, the Reave Guild Hall. Warden Bax marched the nameless boy up the steep castle approach road. As they walked he talked about the fortress. He said it had never been breached. He recounted a few tales about its history and construction. They passed through all six gates, all the way through the lower forts to the tallest and last fort in the chain, the High Fort. The warden nodded and spoke to all the guards as if he knew them well. The boy was busy the entire walk craning his neck to see as much as possible of the impressive fortifications and the goings on in each fort.
As they walked across the last bridge to the seventh and final gatehouse Warden Bax said, “Welcome to Reave Hall. It has also been called the King’s Forge ever since King Brandt II and his son studied and trained here. Brandt I, his father founded the Guild Hall and required his son to train here and become a Master of the Sword. All of the Rodulls after Brandt I trained here.”
Eventually they passed through the last gate and entered the large open courtyard of the High Fort. Warden Bax directed the boy to stay put by the gatehouse guardroom. He then turned away and walked across the wide yard to a large group of youth practicing sword forms near the stables. There were girls, boys and young men and women. Their ages ranged from around ten up to the War Age.
Warden Bax stopped at a group of three adults who looked to be supervising the practice. A minute later a young girl was called over by one of the adults. She listened carefully to the adult then took off running into the main hall. Standing by the gatehouse the boy watched the sword practice with a keen eye. It looked exciting and tumultuous. He itched to join in and give it a try. The Warden stood conversing with the adults. Warden Bax looked just like the adult teachers. He had the same predatory stance and motions and his bearing and demeanor was the same.
After a few minutes a fit tall older man exited the hall and walked up to Warden Bax. Bax and the tall man, a warrior dressed and seemingly produced from the same mold as Bax, spoke for a minute. There were frequent gestures and looks towards the gatehouse.
Finally, the tall man nodded and Bax shouted over to him, “Come up boy.”
The boy trotted over and the taller man nodded in appreciation.
“Bax, he seems well disciplined and a sturdy lad. A bit thin but we can fix that easily enough.”
Bax nodded, “I agree Grand Master. Though the circumstances of this situation are strange he impressed me also.”
The Grand Master was at least fifty years old. He was a few inches taller than Bax who was over six feet tall himself. The giant’s face was weather beaten and lined and scarred with the passage of time and likely numerous battles and fights. He was a true warrior the boy thought to himself.
“Hello boy. I am the Grand Master of the Reave Guild Hall. You may call me Master Ivar. I understand you have no name or memory of yourself or your family?”
The boy looked into the man’s eyes and said, “Aye, I recall none of it.”
Master Ivar nodded and said, “Not to worry. The warden will make inquiries and try to discover more about your predicament. This will likely take some time. While we wait for the Warden’s correspondence to circulate you can live here and work for the Hall. We will feed you and give you a cot with the other boys your age. If you like and your duties allow, you can also participate in the training. How does that sound?”
Quickly the boy responded, “Thank you very much sir. I am indebted to you. I will work hard to ensure you find me no burden.”
Both Ivar and Bax noticed how relieved the young man became at this news. His mental state and lack of circumstance were obviously very troubling and constantly occupied his thoughts. Ivar continued, “Good, it is hard and demanding work but the Guild is fair. The fare may not be the best but it is plentiful. The training is unmatched and every young man in Vesfalruk should have some skill with axe and sword. Initially, it may be hard to fit in with the other boys but you should manage with time.”
He turned back to Warden Bax and said, “We got him Bax. Keep me posted if you learn of anything new. I will see you again soon.” Bax clasped forearms with the old battered giant in the Guild’s handshake and said goodbye to Master Ivar and the boy. He was gone moments later, heading back to town.
Ivar said to the boy, “Come, I will show you to the kitchen for now. You can meet the cook, Wally, and grab a bite to eat. You will do as Wally says for now until we get everything sorted out.”
***
The High Mage completed his work for the evening and ordered his magi slave to return all the materials, scrolls and books to their proper places. This particular slave was trained from childhood to be his personal magi slave. The slave had many years of experience and was exceptional at his tasks. He was pretty much irreplaceable thought the High Mage.
Magi slaves were always mute and illiterate. If they weren’t mute at birth a mage would make them so before training them to become a magi slave. This way the specialized slaves could never turn on their magic wielding masters with magic of their own. Imperia magic wielders were a suspicious and vicious lot. They had to be. It was a brutal profession. Rivalries, assassinations, theft of magical materials and artifacts and constant political machinations were always a threat to a mage. The theft of magical materials and the assassination of magi were lucrative businesses throughout the Imperium.
The High Mage left the work room and went down the hallway to his bath chamber. This was his normal evening routine. A light cold meal sat next to the changing couch. A glass of sweet chilled Cumbriun red wine was also waiting beside the plate. Being the High Mage to Emperor Titan XXXI was not without its benefits and rewards. Titan was an uncomplicated man. He was an excellent fighter, a good general, solid administrator and a cunning politician. He was intelligent but quick to anger, cruel and uncompassionate. He did however reward those that pleased him and served him well.
High Mage Lutvar made it his life’s work to please the emperor. That was how Lutvar was able to retire to this sumptuous bath chamber in a lavish suite in Titan’s palace. He pleased Titan and Titan took care of him. The lovely slave girl that helped Lutvar disrobe was also one of those generous rewards. Lutvar couldn’t remember what he had done to earn her but he was glad Titan had gifted the young voluptuous sex slave to him. She was very pretty. Most of the other magi abstained from the ‘vice’ of sexual pleasure. They claimed such distractions lessened their powers and took time way from important studies.
Lutvar scoffed at such nonsense. He always put his duties and studies first and rewarded himself with the lovely girl’s charms whenever he had the time and felt the need. Titan was a demanding master but there was still sufficient time to bui
ld his magical power and regularly enjoy the girl.
She was very skilled he thought, as he chased the remainder of the evening’s repast with the chilled Cumbriun. Even now, as he reclined on the low couch next to the steaming bath, the woman sat next to him on the top step of the bath and looked adoringly at Lutvar. He reached down and stroked her lustrous brown hair and said, “Annia, my pet, let us enjoy a bath and then retire for the remainder of the evening.”
Much later, Lutvar suddenly awoke from his sleep. He groggily sat up. He wondered what time it was. He was alone now and the wine still fogged his brain. He’d not stopped at his usual one glass. Annia knew he preferred to sleep alone. She must have retired to her bed in the slave quarters. Something had woken him. Suddenly, dread and fear swamped his senses. Lutvar felt a deep bone-shuddering chill crawl down his spine. Something was radiating an extreme temperature difference near him. He felt extremely cold and it was so extreme he could feel it offsetting the oppressive spring heat that was normal this time of year in Imperium’s capitol, Crestia.
The cold moved closer to the foot of his sleeping couch and it became so intense and so strong that Lutvar could see his breath frosting in the air before him. The cold seeped deep into his bones and he felt painful pricks throughout his body. A low cruel but eminently articulate and powerful voice oozed from the impenetrable darkness in front of him, “Lutvar, I name you my chief servant on Ellorhim. I am called Arngrim by your kind and you serve me now. Up until this day you have been allowed to have your freedom and your fun. That ends now, the Promise begins and with it my master’s dominion and prophesized return.”
The voice was maddening and terrifying to Lutvar. It was filled with power and an aura of absolute command but left such a feeling of dread and hopelessness in Lutvar’s mind that he despaired to live another second. He fell back onto his couch and trembled with fear, pain and revulsion. He knew he must obey but was repulsed and horrified by the thing at the same time. The fear was too much even for a powerful mage like him. As he mentally struggled with the strange being to his front, Lutvar tried to kindle an illumination spell above his couch.
A faint brief flicker was all he could manage before it winked out and expired. His magic was simply undone by some negative force the being wielded. Not in twenty years had another mage been able to negate or cancel Lutvar’s archania.
The voice continued with a chuckle that held no mirth, only despair and death, “You are willful my servant. But you are also powerful and smart. That is why I chose you and not one of your brothers of The Red. But, if you persist in these attempts to deflect my purpose I can always select another servant. Perchance a taste of my ire is needed?”
The freezing cold he’d felt up to this point suddenly flared and grew stronger and spread throughout his body. He immediately twisted and writhed in excruciating searing but yet chilling pain. Sweat popped from his skin. A glow enveloped his sleeping couch now and he could see the sweat was not water but blood. He was sweating blood. His mind was closing down. It refused to function and the pain continued to increase. He tried to scream, to speak and beg for it to stop but no sound would move past his throat.
“You see slave? I am the master and you the servant. Do not forget your place. This will be your eternal state if you fail or continue to displease me. You ask why? It really is simple. I command it. That is all you need to know. I am not a man but chief servant to the greatest of gods and I have chosen you to assist me and convey my wishes to Titan. Do you understand?”
Lutvar felt the pain recede. He was still very weak. He tried to speak but could only manage a sob. He was shaking and covered in a light sheen of blood sweat, his bowels racked with tremors and his bones ached, he finally gasped out a feeble, “Aye master.”
“I am leaving you a codicil to read. In the past, for centuries, the Red was always my servant. However, you have lost your way. It is time you rediscovered your path. This book was hidden, sealed away for a thousand years by our enemies. It is now yours to read and study and share with your brothers. It will provide great insight and power to the Red. Guard it well.
“You will see what I need done once you begin your study. Make sure it is your only priority from now on. I will not return to direct you further. From time to time I will send another servant as my messenger. She is called Gullvayg. Obey her as you would me. If you ever see me again in this world know that I have come to utterly destroy you.”
The presence was gone in an instant. Lutvar immediately sprang from his couch and stumbled. The debilitating effects of his recent trial still racked his body but with diminishing waves of pain and then finally, blissful numbness. But, he immediately illuminated his bed chamber with brilliant magical light and began a healing spell to remove the remaining nausea and pain from his body. The room was as he remembered. Arngrim, the terrible dark being, was gone. All that remained was the sweat and blood on his bed linens, the faint stench of some unidentifiable noxious fumes, and on the floor near the foot of his bed, a large plain unadorned Blackwood box of the type used to hold a large unbound book.
Chapter 3
A Dream
The Warrior Song, verse 3
A lone warrior stands tall in the deep snow of the mountain pass
His home and hearth at his back and a plentiful foe to his fore
His axe is heavy but the edge is sharp, his grip strong
Grim but stout is his heart for understanding is there
To fight for love and land is worth a life
Death looks all in the face
Erik the Colder
***
He especially liked her eyes. He knew this because he liked to stare into those them, when he could. They mesmerized and teased him and their absence haunted him. He knew he could look into them forever and never think twice about it. She mocked him whenever she caught him staring though. She said it was not proper for a boy to stare at a girl. She frequently rebuked him and told him to stop gawking at her.
She was always telling him such things. Such and such was unseemly or this or that was inappropriate. She also liked to use big words. He thought she was trying to make him feel stupid. He believed she was just showing off. And, she was oh so proper or rather she pretended to be proper whenever ‘that Druid’ was around. She always called Aravin ‘that Druid’ for some reason.
When Aravin was not there she was quick to taunt or prank him. Sometimes she tormented him mercilessly. She always said she was just teasing him. She was like two different people. The kind and proper young lady or the mischievous and devious light hearted prankster. It was sometimes fascinating to watch her switch between the two. Everything about the girl confused him or made him twitch with indignation.
Her face was even prettier, if possible, especially after she performed a particularly elaborate prank on him. Her eyes would twinkle with mischief and delight and her entire face would light up and her countenance sparkled like the brightest star in the night sky. She was so alive and beautiful when she was happy, not that she was ugly when she was not happy, quite the contrary. But, he thought that was part of the problem, she knew she was pretty and used it to her advantage.
While he hated the pranks he loved the way she looked as she savored his misery and humiliation. He told Aravin about it once. The Druid just smiled fondly and told him it was the way of women to tease those they liked best. He found the reply from the Druid strange and unsettling. He did not understand it at all. She liked him so she made him look and feel the fool? What nonsense. He always tried to do nice things for her. He would find her favorite flowers and bring them to her. He even read her favorite mushy poems and stories out loud to her when she asked.
Alas, it was to no avail though. She would applaud and thank him for his noble efforts and his kind gestures. But, shortly thereafter, she would spring some new jest or trick on him. It was always best to proceed with caution when she was around he figured. But, even with the pain and hurt she caused, being around her was
his favorite thing. He wished he could remember her name. Even now, the memory of her face faded and the sound, that high lilting tinkle of her laughter fled from his mind.
The boy woke. The dream slipped from his consciousness. All was lost except the fond memory of a pair of riotous sea green eyes that shone with mirth and wildness and sometimes a compassion that caused his breath to catch in his throat. He wished he could remember more. His sadness was crushing.
He took stock of his surroundings. Where was he? He was in a strange small bed. At least it was a bed and not a cold wet alleyway or dirty barn. He was in a large room full of other boys. They were still asleep. The windows were softly glowing with the golden light of dawn. The sun was rising. It was a new day. The murmurs and sleep noises of so many boys in their small cots filled the air.
Where was he? Oh, aye, now he remembered. He was in Castle Reave. He was ‘Above’. He was to train with the sword in the Guild. That thought brought pleasure to him and helped ease the sadness of the fading dream. He reached under his cot and touched the old sword. It felt warm and alive to his touch. It comforted him. He thanked it for helping him. Was it strange to talk in his mind to a sword? He did not think so. It was a friend and he had none other than the sword right now.
But he was still very sad. There were people all around him but he did not know any of them. He was a strange boy in a strange place. He pulled the wallet on the string around his neck and held it in his hands. In the dim light he traced the letter ‘Y’ etched into the leather. It was a new day. He would make new friends and see new things. There was always a reason to hope he thought.
He lay there waiting for the others to wake and the day to begin, a deep raspy male voice whispered in his mind. ‘You worry too much lad. Just take each day as it comes and do your best.’ At first he thought he was still dreaming but that could not be. He pinched himself and felt the pain. He had to be awake.
