by Thomas Adams
“Who is talking to me?” he whispered. No one answered. He asked again. No reply. Strange he thought. Was he imaging the voice in his head? He was surprised and a bit scared as well. What if his memory loss was causing him to hear things? He was going to ask again, louder this time but his bunk mates were stirring now. It would have to wait until another time.
***
The High Fort, Low Fort and Middle Forts were just as impressive from inside as from below. The massive ancient fortress was an engineering marvel. Each fort in the chain, from Low to High, was more or less square or rectangular. And, they all had a tower at each corner. The walls and towers were easily twenty feet thick and topped with machicolated merlons and crenellations. Such defensive features ensured that the defenders on the walls and towers were protected from enemy missile fire. The design of the fortress allowed all of the parts of the fortress to support and cover each other. And, all of the towers, keeps and gatehouses were interconnected. Where the walls were longest there were sometimes additional smaller towers interspersed. Most towers were equipped with a catapult or ballistae on the roof.
Every fort had a gatehouse in and a gatehouse out. Except the High Fort, it only had one gate house, leading in. These massive structures had arrow slits, murder holes, sally ports and foot thick wood doors, banded with iron and massive iron hinges and mechanical iron cross bars. Additionally, many gates also used a portcullis for extra strength. The High Fort’s gate was also clad in thick iron plates fastened to the wooden doors with metal bolts as thick as a man’s wrist. These doors were very heavy and had special mechanisms to open and close them.
In the gatehouses there were massive gears, chains and cranks to work the gates and bridges and portcullis. A standing crew of tradesmen, hired for the sole purpose of maintaining the gates, were constantly testing, greasing, oiling and inspecting or fixing all the mechanical bits, chains and ropes.
Between each fort was a narrow stone causeway. Depending on the distance between the crags of rock each fort was built on, the causeways were twenty to one hundred feet long. They only had a low wall on each side to protect from accidents. The low wall would not provide much cover to an attacking force though. Each causeway ended in a drawbridge that could be pulled up at the gatehouses to impede access from the lower fort to the higher one. The gate houses and towers were all situated so that attacking enemy forces on the causeways would be under constant missile bombardment from multiple sides.
The High and Low Forts each had a massive tower keep and they each had several halls, kitchens, stables and other structures. The middle forts did not have keeps but each had a kitchen, storage halls, barracks and a mess area. Each gatehouse leading above was larger than normal and heavily reinforced. These stronger gatehouses acted as the Middle Forts’ keeps. They could be totally sealed off from the rest of the fort and defended in solitaire if needed.
The boy had heard from one of the other students that Castle Reave had never been taken by an enemy force. Even during the height of the War of Twenty it had been besieged but only in order to bottle up the garrison and prevent them from mounting sorties and harassing the invading Erhand forces. No serious effort was mounted by the Imperium to take the fortress.
The fortress had been completed over five hundred years ago during the final years of the Great Troll War. A war band of fifty trolls had attacked the castle during its construction but were repulsed. Some of the trolls in that attack had attempted to scale the cliffs to the Middle Forts. Many had almost made it to the castle’s walls before being cast down from the heights by ballistae, massed crossbow fire or large boulders dumped over the walls.
Castle Reave was kept in good repair. In Vesfalruk’s long violent history with its neighbors, The Emorie of the Imperium to the east and Osterider to the northeast, it had been a key defensive fortification against them. Vesfalrukian history was one of war and violence with its eastern neighbors. Both the Emorie and Osterider had invaded over land and by sea and fought many wars to conquer and enslave Vesfalruk. And, as such Vesfalrukian culture and institutions were based on building defensive capabilities and alliances to protect against invaders, also called Erhand. Due to the location and role of Fortress Reave it was an industrious and noisy place all day. It slowed down a bit once the students went to bed. The Guild, the jarl’s hall, the garrison and the king’s business kept the place going almost around the clock. Soldiers were always hurrying about and watches patrolled the walls, towers and grounds.
Far ranging mounted patrols came and went as directed by the jarl or the war captain. People and soldiers who had business with the jarl or the war captain were frequently about. The Guild Sword Masters, under Grand Master Ivar, kept instruction, exercises and classes going all day and into the evenings. The Guild, no matter the weather, continuously operated.
Servants, artisans and staff also went about the business of fixing, repairing, provisioning and maintaining the forts. In the courtyard of the High Fort there was a large forge with an army of smiths and boys working on weapons, tools and shoeing horses. The stables were extensive and full of horses and oxen. Each fort had its own stable. The fortress’s stables housed a few hundred horses and other assorted beasts. Groomsmen and stable boys worked around the clock taking care of the animals. The running of the fortress was a huge endeavor every day.
After breakfast that first day the boy wandered from the stables to the forge to the store rooms and then to the kitchens. He was getting acquainted with his new home. When it was time to work he hauled stores from the store rooms as the under cooks directed or washed up the crocks and pots and pans the cooks dirtied. They seemed to dirty them as fast as he and the other boys washed them.
That first day he was introduced to his half year group. The youth in the group were not very welcoming. He was also given a brief lecture by Master Randur about the role of the kriger in Vesfalruk. Master Randur explained that all of the students were training to become warriors to fight the Erhand, the foreigners that historically and repetitiously tried to conquer Vesfalruk. Krigers, or warriors, formed the backbone of Vesfalruk’s defense against the Erhand. To be a kriger meant taking oaths to serve and defend the land and people.
Over the next few days he settled into the new routine. Master Ivar had stated, when he first arrived, it would be hard work. It was. He went to bed every evening exhausted but his belly was full and his cot was warm. And he usually managed several hours of training every day with the other boys and girls. He was thankful he had a place, food and a bed. It would be a tough challenging life. But there were benefits also.
The days carried on and life at Reave Hall settled a bit. He was learning to read and write. And, he was learning the sword. At this young age the weapons training was more about theory, practicality, sword forms and physical conditioning. They seldom actually touched a practice sword. Typically, no more than thirty minutes each day was spent with a sword in hand at this stage. Since the training at this point was done with wooden weapons he left his old sword under his cot. It was much too big for him now anyhow. The clacking and clattering of the wooden practice swords was music to his ears and usually he dropped off to sleep with the noise still echoing in his mind.
The Sword Masters were very tough but fair. They appreciated hard work, effort and discipline. The boy worked hard to please them. Wally, the head cook, and the under cooks were a different story. They also were hard taskmasters. But, they were not as fair-minded as the Masters. A broken crock or slow response to a shouted task was usually met with and an oath and buffet. Large wooden spoons were the cooks’ weapons of choice. The boy quickly learned these painful lessons.
His half year group were supposed to be his age but since no one knew his age it was a guess really. He slept and trained periodically with them but he also worked for Wally a few hours each day. The other boys in his group were a mixed lot. A large portion of his group was Erling, nobles, the sons of Frey. Wealthy tradesmen and merchants also sent their
third, fourth and fifth sons to the Guilds for education and training. But, there were also orphans, unwanted bastards and other vagabonds of all sorts. There were even several maidens in the group. The shield-maiden traditions were still strong with the northern mountain clans. It was a hodgepodge group and the scrapping and bullying was constant. Class warfare was prevalent at this tender age as well.
Most of the youth in his group were around nine or ten years old. He didn’t know his age but he was a little bigger than most of the boys in his group. He assumed he was of the same age. Ivar had asked him his age before putting him in a dorm but the boy had of course answered with the usual, “I canna say, sir.”
At first he was persecuted miserably by everyone in his group. The beatings were bad but he endured and tried to give as much as he received. Ivar warned him to stand up for himself no matter the outcome. It would be worse in the long run if he didn’t. The snubs and catcalls and taunting he soon learned to tune out. Between his peers, the cooks and the training fields he usually sported a few bruises, cuts and sometimes a sprain or two.
But, after two moons he had showed he had skill, strength and a quickness that was almost unequaled by any in his group. He learned to take his revenge on his tormentors on the training field. The Masters’ seemed to appreciate that approach as well and their smiles lit their somber weathered faces as he trounced the others in sword play or grappling. Almost all his tormentors in his group left him alone now and a wary respect had developed. They could not beat him one on one.
Soon after the start of his third moon at Reave Hall, in the mess hall, Guild Master Ivar called him over just as last meal concluded. He stood at attention as they were trained to do when speaking to a Master. The position, a sign of respect, readiness and discipline was almost as old as the Guild itself.
Master Ivar said, “We need to give you a name boy. It seems strange to keep calling you boy. Don’t you think? It defeats the point of having names when everyone around you stops and wonders who is being addressed. Do you have any preference?”
The boy shook his head and said, “No sir.”
“Not very outspoken are you. The other Masters and I have decided to call you Kyrr. You okay with that?”
The boy glanced up at Ivar quickly then went back to attention. Why Kyrr he thought? Was it a jest? He thought Kyrr meant someone who was very quiet but it was also used as a derogative for a big mouth.
“Sir, Kyrr is fine.” the boy said.
“Well then, Kyrr it will be. You will be a full Guild inductee from now on. Warden Bax, unfortunately, received no replies to his inquires as to your status or family. We will consider you an orphan and if you are agreeable you can stay on with the Guild. We are aware and are sympathetic of your circumstances.”
Master Ivar paused and then said wryly, “And, since your memories haven’t returned; we all think it best you just forget trying to discover that part of your life and move on as a kriger. You have a knack for it and will do well with the Guild no matter what path you choose after you reach the War Age.”
It was the longest speech Kyrr had ever heard from Ivar. But, realistically, for the last fortnight hope had faded for Kyrr. Somehow he suspected Warden Bax would hear no news of his family or situation. He was resigned. He was all alone in this world. But, he liked the Guild and the security and the training was comforting to him. His past would remain a mystery. He was willing and ready to move on with the krigers. He would eventually make new friends and do his best. Things would turn out fine. He was certain.
He responded, “Aye Master Ivar. That suits me. I like it here and have no complaints.”
“I am glad that is your decision. Pining or worrying about something you canna control is never a good thing in my experience. That will be all Kyrr.”
“Aye sir.” Kyrr replied. He turned smartly and left the mess hall.
***
Master Ivar glanced around the table at his colleagues. Many of the teachers sitting at the table nodded their heads in silent agreement. It was the right thing to do. Grovan, the Hall’s burly Master of the Axe said, “A right smart and talented lad. He will do well.”
Master Rondul agreed, “That one shows promise. One of the Guild’s greatest benefits is that we take in everyone, no matter the circumstance.”
A few of the others grunted in affirmative and continued to down their ale and food. Ivar watched the lad walk across the mess and go out the door. Not for the last time he wondered what the boy’s background really was. It was a shame the boy had no family. He agreed with Rondul. The Guild was a harsh mother but its role in Vesfalruk society as the repository for the lost, the unwanted wicked and other cast-offs was a good thing. It gathered all of them in and made them something better, gave them a purpose and a family.
The situation was not great but it was not dire. The lad was talented, smart, educated and willing to learn. That could not be said about many in the Hall. Ivar knew he was also persecuted but was holding his own for now. He made it his business to make sure the hazing and bullying did not go too far.
There was little Ivar could do for now except encourage the lad and keep a close watch on him. He hoped Warden Bax learned some news about the boy. But, there were many a bastard and orphan in Vesfalruk and beyond. They all managed to get on and survive. Kyrr would as well Ivar supposed. All he needed to succeed was a good solid Guild education. It had worked for thousands of Vesfalruk boys and girls over the years. It would work for Kyrr as well.
***
As the moons passed the routine at Reave Hall went on. It had been pretty much the same for countless years. It was a system and methodology that worked so it changed infrequently. Kyrr was still the object of derision, scorn and hazing by his peers but as his skill and strength increased the number of detractors and antagonists decreased. He was known to get even on the practice field and after he beat several of his peers, the ones who choose to torment him, he was pretty much left alone.
One or two still found reason to make life hard for Kyrr. The band bully, Bera was one of his tormentors. Bera was an Erling and he bullied everyone. He was one of the biggest boys in the group and Bera especially liked to harass the new boy. Kyrr seemed to represent everything Bera hated although no one knew why.
Kyrr, however, was not about to take anything from Bera and their encounters usually turned into youthful brawls. And, since Kyrr stood up to Bera, the others in the group started to respect Kyrr. That made Bera even madder and more determined to put the new boy in his place.
When Bera was mad he often would take hasty and foolhardy action. And he would enlist some of his Frey companions to help him. The odds were not good for Kyrr in these situations and he had to keep his wits about him and react quickly when he saw a trap. Sometimes he did not see the coming attack and he took a beating for lack of attentiveness. After such events he would spend some time with the healers and they would patch him up. He used the time spent with the healers to reflect on what had happened and tried to figure out how he could have avoided the situation or escaped with less damage.
After four moons Kyrr still didn’t have any real friends at Reave Hall even though he tried several times to make inroads with the lower class boys. They could be just as prickly and clannish as the Erling youth though. He finally broke down a few walls with his bunkmate Rojr but they did not become great friends. They were on daily speaking terms. Rojr was also quick to offer him advice on how to deal with the Erling and the some of the other boys and girls.
Towards the end of the fifth moon Master Ivar took Kyrr aside and offered some advice and a bit of welcome praise as well. Ivar said, “Many of the Masters are surprised at your progress. You have great capacity to soak up and retain the techniques and forms we teach. And, they are impressed by how quickly you have caught up to the other boys and girls. We realize they had a considerable head start on you. You work hard and take advice and correction well.”
The boy was appreciative of Ivar’s prai
se and said as much. Ivar told him to keep up the hard work and left him with, “You have the potential to go far Kyrr, your speed with axe and sword was undeniable and that will take you far someday.”
***
The pain was awful. Kyrr was sure he’d never felt it like this before. Bera and his friends stood around and laughed. They taunted him and called him every foul name under the sun. The blood ran down Kyrr’ face and dripped off his chin. He pinched his nose to stop the bleeding but the pain was so intense he saw spots and got real dizzy. He almost blacked out but he struggled to overcome the pain and his body’s reaction to it, he succeeded and saw Bera’s little group was breaking up. His nose was probably broken.
A deep rough voice whispered to him, ‘It is broken lad. Forget about the nose and pain. You have other problems. Want some advice?’
Kyrr looked around wildly for the person speaking. It was obviously an adult but the only people near him were Bera and his friends. The others from the half year band had left and were heading to last meal. “Who said that?” Kyrr asked.
Bera laughed and nudged his friend, “I hit him so hard he is hearing things!” His friends laughed in response to Bera’s bragging.
Kyrr remembered the dream he’d and the voice that spoke to him after. It was the same voice right? He remembered the voice but not the details of the dream. The voice said again, ‘They cannot hear me, only you can.’
He spun about but no one was behind him. The voice was in his head. Only he could hear it. Was he losing his mind? Was this part of the memory problems he had? The voice said, ‘You are fine. Your nose is busted that is all. But, there is only one way to beat a bully, only one thing a bully understands, beat him down and make it worse for him than you.’
