Treachery in Tarnstead

by Robyn Wideman

  TREACHERY IN TARNSTEAD

  STONEBLOOD SAGA BOOK 5

  Treachery In Tarnstead© copyright 2018 Robyn Wideman

  Published: Jan 2018

  Publisher: Magicblood Media Corp

  1

  The wind softly whistled through the willows and aspen, gently caressing Nathan’s skin as he walked through the forest. Leaves rustled, grasses swayed. The sun found places to shine through the trees. Its warm embrace felt good. It seemed so long since he’d been able to take a trip that wasn’t hurried or rushed by imminent threat. He was glad to get out of Elderwood and take a trip to Salma to see his old friend Count Mavane.

  After a brief stop in New Balta, to check on the village, he was back on the road. The news out of the village was troubling and matched up with what Verin’s rangers had been reporting. Bandits were back, causing troubles on the roads out of Salma. It seemed the stretch of road was destined to always be troublesome. It had been bandit activity in the area that had been the catalyst for the attack on the original village of Elderwood, now called New Balta, when his parents had been killed. Then when he’d returned after living in Balta he’d had several encounters with bandits. Will I ever have peace from bandits and marauders? wondered Nathan as he walked. Even with a name change and the proximity to the new Kingdom of Elderwood, with its knights and rangers, New Balta was still a target for bandit activity. New Balta had the same old problem.

  It was an opportunistic and logical place for bandits to hit. Being near the mountains, heavily treed, and serving as the main route from the southern coast, the rich trade port of Venecia, and the Kingdom of Tarnstead in Central Solotine, all made the roads out of New Balta dangerous to travel.

  All the trade wagons went through Salma before the road split and went to the capital or any of the other nine major cities and the other towns and villages that made up the kingdom. Since they had arrived from Balta, Verin’s rangers had been patrolling the problematic roads before they entered the vast Kingdom of Tarnstead, but with so much new territory to learn, and the need to dedicate large amounts of manpower to building the new kingdom, the rangers and knights weren’t able to keep the road as secure as they would like. With reports saying most of the attacks had been taking place within the boundaries of Salma, there wasn’t much Nathan, or his men, could do about the attacks.

  Nathan sighed as he thought about the bandits. As far as problems went, bandit problems were minor. After surviving the attacks orchestrated by Lord Zellox, the sieges against Pailtar then Balta, having to deal with a few renegades was minimal. The bandits were more of an issue for Count Mavane and the Kingdom of Tarnstead, but Nathan wanted to be a good neighbor, as it had been Count Mavane who’d used his authority as the lord of Salma to deed the lands around New Balta to Nathan. The deeded lands marked the edge of Nathan’s territories which went west to the canyon where they were building the new Kingdom of Elderwood.

  A lull in the wind provided the warning Nathan needed. There was an unnatural rustling sound and the sounds of twigs snapping underfoot. Someone was in the woods stalking the road.

  Nathan’s focus turned from the theoretical problem of dealing with bandits on the road to the practical problem of being attacked by bandits right now. He kept walking at the same pace, but he casually broadened his view by pretending to stretch his neck. As he moved his head around to stretch he paid close attention to the woods ahead. The gust of wind had come from the north, and whatever scent he’d picked up was coming from that area on the left of the road. He spotted a shadow beside a tree where it shouldn’t be. Slowly turning his head the other way, Nathan couldn’t see anyone, but he found a huge cedar among the smaller aspen. The cedar was large enough for a man to hide behind.

  Farther ahead, two men came around a bend in the road and were casually walking towards Nathan. If he hadn’t caught the scent of the one in the trees, he would’ve walked right into their trap. Your stink will be your undoing, thought Nathan.

  Nathan stopped and bent down onto one knee. He started fiddling with the laces on his boot. He purposely fumbled around, taking as much time as he could before switching to his other boot. He had no intentions of passing the man, or men, in the trees before meeting the two men coming up the road.

  “Hello, stranger, lovely day to be out on a stroll” said one of the men as they walked up to Nathan.

  Nathan studied the man, middle age, thick and muscular, with a salt and pepper beard parted by a scar that ran across his face from the bottom of his chin all the way across his cheek up to his forehead. The man had obviously taken a blade to the face that came fractions of an inch away from killing him. His partner was of a similar build, but with a clean-shaven face and a long ponytail that pulled his hair away from his face. “Greetings. Yes, it’s a beautiful day. Perfect for a bit of adventure.”

  “You on your way to Salma?” asked the clean-shaven man. His voice was gritty, and his tone was forceful, and his body language equally aggressive as he leaned forward towards Nathan with one hand on his weapon. Nothing timid about him at all.

  “As it happens, yes I am” Nathan said. It was obvious the bearded man was playing the friendly role while his companion the clean-shaven man played the tough. A time-honored tradition among highwaymen, the combination of pleasantries and aggressiveness left the victim confused and off-balance. Unsure of themselves and how to deal with the situation. These two were old hands at it.

  “Excellent. A beautiful place, Salma,” said the bearded man.

  “One of my favorite places, I love the lake, so beautiful and serene,” Nathan said as he waited for the clean-shaven bandit to interject.

  “Have you paid the toll?” asked the clean-shaven man right on time.

  “Toll?” asked Nathan in amusement. These bandits must have a handbook they used when robbing people. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to pay a toll to avoid being robbed.

  “Dangerous area is Salma, many unsavory types who can’t be trusted. My partners and I patrol this road and help keep it safe. We charge a small fee for our time.”

  “Your partners?” Nathan scratched his head as if deep in thought. “Oh, you mean the man in the trees who smells like he bathes in ale? No, I haven’t paid him or anyone else a toll. Kind of sounds like extortion to me. The kind of thing only a low-down cur would do.”

  “You got a smart mouth, mister. You should be more careful who you throw insults and accusations at. You might be a big lad, but you can be brought down to size quick enough,” said the clean-shaven man.

  Nathan smiled. He was bigger than both men, despite only being a teen. His father, a northerner, came from a family with giant’s blood, and Nathan had spent the last six months moving stones every day. He’d grown taller and thicker as well, building more muscle. He was still not as big as some of his father’s countrymen that he’d met, and likely never would be as his mother was Baltan. But while Nathan wasn’t as bulky and powerful as some with giant’s blood he was blessed in other areas. His narrow hips and lean torso, which gave him more speed and agility than the average northerner, were more Baltan traits than northerner. His wide shoulders and thick powerful arms were distinctly northerner traits that had been built up with a childhood spent working in his father’s blacksmith shop and more recently moving stones while working to build the walls and building of the new Kingdom of Elderwood. He was blessed with a rare combination of speed and power, a near perfect blend of his two distinctly different parents’ bloodlines. But a powerful body was nothing without the proper training, and Nathan had been lucky in this area as well. Bringing him down to size was a much harder task than either of these two highwaymen realized. “I’m afraid I have no money for your toll. I’ll take
my chances walking the road by myself.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, boy. Now hand over your coin purse, and your sword. That will suffice for now.”

  “What about my bow? You don’t want it?” asked Nathan.

  “Wouldn’t want to leave you empty-handed. The road is dangerous after all,” said Beard with a grin.

  Nathan shrugged and slowly drew his sword. He grabbed it by the blade and lobbed it to Beard. “Fine, take my sword.”

  Beard reached out with one arm and grabbed the sword by the hilt. His arm was violently dragged down as the blade went to the ground. “What in the seven hells? This blade is too heavy, it is useless.”

  Ponytail frowned and looked at Nathan with suspicion. “Let me have it.” He reached over and grabbed the sword with two hands. He lifted it up, but it was a struggle. “Bloody hell. You’d have to be a giant to use this blade. Where did you steal it, boy?”

  “Steal it? I made it,” said Nathan. The blade was black steel, forged with a special blend of iron and other minerals over a fire made with witch wood. Normally, black steel was lighter and stronger than any other metal, but this sword, like his bow had a magical bloodstone in the hilt that made it even lighter for Nathan but heavier for anyone else who tried to use it.

  Ponytail threw the sword to the ground in disgust. “Worthless crap.”

  A third man stepped out from behind the big cedar. “Quit messing around boys. If he has nothing of worth, then kill him. We don’t need paupers traveling our road.”

  Beard pointed his sword at Nathan. “You heard the man. Last chance. Either you find something of value in your purse or we take the toll out of your hide.”

  Nathan sighed, he knew the longer they talked the more dangerous things would be. Eventually they would piece together who he was and either try to kill or kidnap him. The bandits had the advantage of numbers, he would have to initiate the attack to remove their advantage. He disliked attacking first, but they left him little choice. “The sword has a gem in it. Let me show you.” He reached down and grabbed the sword, and instead of bringing it up slowly to show them the hilt he attacked. His blade sliced into the belly of Beard, who stood wide-eyed looking down at the blade in his belly. Nathan pushed Beard back, freeing his sword. He then attacked Ponytail who was bringing his sword up to attack.

  From the cedar tree, the third man swore and yelled. “Oliver, shoot him down.”

  Nathan calmly stepped to his right, putting Ponytail between himself and the man hiding in the bushes on the left of the road. He blocked Ponytail’s attacks while he waited for the third man to close in. He was carrying a large war axe that Nathan knew wouldn’t be used as a throwing weapon. The third man had to join the close-up fight.

  “Damn it, Johan, move,” said the man in the bushes. “I can’t get a shot with your fat arse in the way.”

  Johan grunted as Nathan’s foot caught him in the stomach. As his head came forward, Nathan’s sword sliced into his throat. Nathan grabbed Ponytail and held him up, using him as a shield while the archer tried to get a shot at him. Finally, the archer fired an arrow that struck Ponytail in the back.

  The third warrior swung his war axe at Nathan, who ducked under the mighty swing. Nathan countered with a low attack that sliced into the man’s Achilles. The warrior didn’t go down though. He grunted in pain and hopped back onto his good foot.

  An arrow struck Nathan in the arm, just below the shoulder. Nathan ignored the pain and attacked the third man. He couldn’t defeat an archer and a warrior at the same time. He needed to finish off the wounded man.

  With a wicked overhead attack, Nathan swung his sword. The man brought his weapon up to block, but Nathan’s blade broke the axe’s handle and came down across the man’s neck.

  Another arrow struck Nathan, this time in the chest. He stepped away from the dying third warrior and turned to look at the archer. Nathan dropped his sword and pulled his own bow off his back. He reached behind and pulled an arrow out, stepping to the side as the archer fired another arrow at him. This one struck him high in the chest on the same side as the arrow in his arm. Nathan winced but blocked out the pain as he focused on his own shot. He fired at the man, striking him in the chest.

  Spinning around, Nathan searched for any more assailants. No one was there.

  Taking a deep breath, Nathan pulled the arrow out of his arm. Blood started pouring out of the wound. Nathan reached into the pocket in his quiver. He grabbed the clean cloth and salve he kept there. He’d learned the hard way that despite the gifts bestowed upon him by his unique heritage he was still very normal when it came to getting wounded. It happened far more often than he’d like. Carrying bandages and magical healing salves had become a way of life. Cleaning and caring for the wound, Nathan thought about the attack. For bandits, they had been very organized. Their weapons and clothing were of an above average quality as well. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as the healing balms started to work. The pain lessened to where he could ignore it with his will power.

  Pulling the bodies off the road, Nathan resumed his journey to Salma. It was only a few miles to the city now, and Count Mavane could send men to deal with the bandit’s bodies. With a sigh, Nathan walked down the road. He felt little remorse for the killings. Killing no longer affected him the way it once had. He regretted the necessity for killing, but in a situation where the choice was simple, fight or die, there wasn’t much to think about. From stories from his uncle Verin, and his grandfather, the northern king, Theron, Nathan knew his own father had struggled greatly with the blood on his hands from so many deaths attributed to his blades. Perhaps one day, Nathan would share the same thoughts, but for now all he knew was when people attacked him or those he loved and cared for, he would do what was necessary. Life was different for Nathan than it had been for his father, Soron. Northern Solotine was a much harsher environment to grow up in than the village of Elderwood. Nathan’s father had grown up fighting from the moment he could hold a sword. Rival clans and outsiders often attacked Theron Stoneblood’s people and their mines. Nathan had known battle and danger, but not the constant fighting his father had endured. As his father grew into a man he was challenged more and more as his legend grew, despite his wish to live a peaceful life. It wasn’t until Soron left the north he found any peace. Would his own life be like that? Would he have to leave Solotine one day to escape his own name? Or was his life’s path different entirely. While Soron had known his father was strong enough to look after his people without him, Nathan didn’t know if he could say the same. What would happen in the new Kingdom of Elderwood if he left one day? Would it even matter? Trouble seemed to find him where ever he went. At least in Elderwood he had friends and family. But sometimes seeing them made life harder when one would expect being close would make life easier.

  Nathan pushed the thoughts aside. Since Ava had died he’d struggled with dark thoughts. He grabbed the amulet containing the spirit stone. Holding the stone always seemed to calm him. Nathan wasn’t sure if it was because it was connected to Ava’s spirit, as Hanna Halfblood had told him. Hanna was his distant cousin on his father’s side. Or perhaps she had told him that, so he would use the amulet to calm himself, so anger wouldn’t consume him. He wanted to believe he was strongly connected to Ava’s spirit. He rubbed the amulet again. His spirit calmed. Hanna Halfblood had to be right. He tucked the amulet back into his clothing to rest near his heart.

  Pulling the bodies to the side of the road, Nathan started back on his journey to see his old friend. He wondered if he would encounter anymore would-be villains before he entered the city gates. With luck he would arrive unmolested, but luck wasn’t something he could count on these days, so he kept alert as he resumed his journey. At the very least the day was still beautiful despite the unpleasant business he’d just taken part in.

  …

  “Nathan, good to see you. I swear you get to look more like your parents every day. You are almost as tall as your father was, but I swear
those eyes get brighter every time I see you,” said Count Mavane as he slapped Nathan on the arm in greeting.

  Nathan winced as the Count hit the wounded shoulder.

  The count noticed Nathan’s wince. “What happened this time?”

  “Bandits,” said Nathan.

  Count Mavane shook his head. “You’re a bandit magnet. You attract them like flies to honey. One would think they would see the size of you and turn away, but that baby face and blue eyes must draw them in.”

  “You sure it’s not the nice tunics? This was my favorite tunic, and now it’s full of holes.” Nathan put his finger through the holes in the tunic where arrows had hit his armor.”

  “Maybe if you didn’t hide your armor under your tunic, bandits would get smart and start aiming for your head,” said Count Mavane.

  Nathan grinned. “Don’t be giving them ideas. I like my head without holes in it.”

  “Fair enough,” said the count. “How many bandits anyways?”

  “Four. I informed your captain of the guards and he’s sending a wagon to get the bodies. It happened only a few miles away.”

  “Bloody hell. That is the third attack this week. Thankfully, they picked on you instead of some merchant from Venecia. Although, none of them are crazy enough to travel alone these days. Everyone travels by caravan now. Strength in numbers.”

  Nathan frowned. “Why so many attacks? It is worse now than when the king sent the duke.”

  “Well, you can probably blame this on Duke Evollan as well, or the king, take your choice. Ever since the duke betrayed the king, the kingdom has fallen into a spiral of distrust. The king acts paranoid and the leaders of the nine cities have to deal with it. It has gotten to the point where a full-out civil war could break out at any minute. In fact, I believe the bandit attacks are being paid by one of the lords of the nine cities.”

  “One of Tarnstead’s lords is behind the attacks? Why in the seven hells would they do that?”