The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One

by Aiden L Turner

  ‘Do you wish to become that again, Jacob?’ Robert said, alarmed at the events that were unfolding.

  Jacob looked thoughtful for a few seconds. ‘I am unsure. It was...’ Jacob paused, looking for the right word to explain how it felt. ‘Intoxicating’, he continued.

  Robert took hold of Jacob’s wrist more firmly than he intended. ‘Do you trust me?’ Robert doubted firmly, but still keeping his voice quiet.

  ‘I do, Robert. More than any man I have ever known’, Jacob replied, pulling slightly at his restricted arm, but the priest tightened his grip and with surprising strength pulled Jacob closer.

  ‘You must never talk of this to anyone not even the people who are here now. To even think about the power you felt will only provoke ill tidings. Do you understand me, Jacob? It must be as if you cannot remember. I shall help you block those thoughts during our training sessions. I must seek council with those in my order who are wiser than myself.’

  Jacob eyed Father Robert with suspicion, but soon he shook the distrust from his thoughts. ‘Of course, Red Rob, whatever you think will be the best course of action. I bow to your wisdom.’

  The mood had become dark in Jacob’s quarters and the group dined in silence until Askia said, ‘If I had known it was going to cause this much trouble, I would have just kicked you in the bollocks’ The room was instantly filled with roaring laughter as Jacob and his four friends fell about themselves in fits, banging the table and slapping each other upon the back. They laughed for a full two minutes before Jacob finally wiped the tears from his eyes and said.

  ‘Robert, I shall leave myself in your capable hands. In the meantime, I think today should be a cause for celebration.’ He went to the door, opened it and bellowed, ‘Servant, fetch ale.’ With this the three soldiers cheered whilst Red Rob rolled his eyes to the ceiling and slowly shook his head from side to side.

  After finishing his breakfast, Robert bade them farewell and left, telling Jacob that he would return the following morning. Jacob, Holak, Askia and Gulkin stayed for three hours feasting and drinking before Jacob decided he wanted to frequent some drinking and gambling establishments in the small towns that surrounded the castle. All four men dressed as all brothers of the order did when not stationed at the northern fortresses. Dark green trousers made of soft wool hung loosely from a leather belt, tucked into brown leather ankle boots. Their tunics were different colours. Jacob’s was a bright blue to match his eyes, Gulkin’s a shade of green just lighter than his trousers, and both Holak and Askia wore a dark red one, but they all were made to the same design, with a tight circle neckline, long loose sleeves that ended in tight cuffs, and large wooden toggles that fastened it tight to the body revealing the warriors’ huge and granite hard, muscles. All the tunics were tucked into the trousers. Hooked upon the belt, the soldiers, when not on duty, were permitted to carry a small wooden club about the size of a man’s forearm. Weapons were not allowed to be carried by townsfolk, peasants or surfs in the king’s castle or the lands that lay in its shadow, but fistfights often broke out in taverns and some of the seedier parts of town. Drunkenness often caused men to fight over gambling debts or women, and concealed weapons were brought to bear. Murders were not common, but soldiers were expected to protect the people, whether they were stationed on the front line or taking a stroll round the town. Jacob’s belt also held the wooden truncheon but being of royal blood he also carried a dirk upon his right hip.

  Leaving the castle, the men followed a trail south and after about half a mile they came to the first buildings in a town called ‘Sheridan’. The town was fairly small, housing about one hundred families, most of which had men serving in the great fortress, Sprettaman. The rest of the townsfolk had small businesses or market stalls. There was no land to be tilled nearby, but farmers often brought their grains or livestock to the market situated in the centre of the town. In Sheridan there was no lord, as ownership and tax rights belonging solely to the king, and in the eyes of the king so did any pretty young women who caught his fancy. The group strolled through the over trodden path that consisted mainly of mud, towards the drinking halls that circled the marketplace. They reached the first one and entered in high spirits, playfully attempting to trip each other as they walked.

  Jacob was the first though the door and was instantly hit by a wall of repugnant odour, a mixture of ale, sweat and vomit. He peered through the smoky darkness towards the bar and noticed, in the murky light that shone through the open door, a dozen or so bodies scattered throughout the establishment. After a few more moments, the vile smell outweighed his curiosity, and he fell back into the street laughing and gagging for air at the same time.

  The group followed him into the street, and Gulkin said, ‘I have smelt Goblins’ breath that did not repulse me as much as that. Let us try the tavern over the way, the one with the sign of the lamb.’

  The men set off to where Gulkin had instructed. Whilst they were walking, Askia pulled Jacob to the side and quietly asked him.

  ‘What of the king or your tutors, will they not wonder about your whereabouts?’

  Jacob called back in a voice far too loud for the quiet streets. ‘Today I do not care. Listen to me Askia, I have taken instructions all my life and tried to obey them fully. Today I am to be drunk, stupid and happy. Any objections?’

  The two brothers looked at each other, then at Gulkin, and then the three burst into yet another fit of laughter.

  ‘Come on, you young scallywags. If today is going to cause us trouble for tomorrow then let us make sure it is a day to remember’, Gulkin instructed his three young companions as they made their way to the tavern marked with a painted lamb upon a wooden board.

  Jacob was again the first at the door but having learnt from his previous experience he opened the door slowly, taking a small taste of the air before he entered. Instead of the smell of rotten food, stale ale, pipe smoke and human waste, he was greeted with the sweet smell of stewing meats and vegetables. He suddenly found himself stumbling through the doorway thanks to a friendly kick in the rump from Holak.

  ‘I smell food’, Holak bellowed as he followed Jacob into the common room of the large tavern.

  The room was large and well-lit by sunlight that shined through glass windows set into the tiled roof. It had about ten circular tables, each one capable of seating eight people for card games, meals or just drinking. The tavern was empty; it being two hours before the midday meal, so Jacob’s rowdy party found themselves a seat in the corner with a view of the entire room.

  Within a minute, a small, excessively overweight man waddled over to the table. The man, apart from his ridiculous stomach, had a huge black moustache with ends that thinned to a point and drooped below his jawline. As well as the facial hair, he had a full head of jet-black curly hair that fell to his shoulders, even though he was, judging from the number of wrinkles on his face, at least fifty years of age. He was without a doubt the funniest-looking man Jacob had ever seen.

  ‘Ah gentlemen, a day off from the rigours of army life?’ the barkeeper asked in a rich pleasant voice.

  The men all nodded, afraid to speak in case the laughter, that was sure to escape, betrayed their amusement at their host’s appearance. ‘But where are my manors? My name is William, and I am the proprietor of this fine establishment’, he announced. ‘And what will it be, fine sirs? We have a fine selection of wines, or if you prefer, I have an ale that reached perfection yesterday, even if I do say so myself.’ Jacob looked up from the table where he had been attempting to stifle his laughter and said, ‘Ale all round please, William.’

  Suddenly Holak barked to attention. ‘I smell stewed pork, if I am not mistaken’, licking his lips as he spoke.

  ‘You have a good nose for food master. Shall I bring each of you a bowl?’ replied William.

  Gulkin, Jacob and Askia looked sickened at the thought of more food after their feast of a breakfast. Holak ordered four tankers of ale and one bowl of stew, which William, wh
ilst panting like a dying horse, rolled off to get. ‘How can you eat more Holak? Surely you cannot still be hungry?’ Gulkin asked.

  ‘Maybe he’s got worms’, piped in Jacob mirthfully.

  ‘I have not got worms!’ Holak said, feigning injury at the slight. ‘I am just envious of our friend William here, and his voluptuous girth.’

  William returned a few minutes later, followed by a young woman who helped to carry the drinks. The woman, who William introduced as his daughter Ellina, was dressed in tight, light blue trousers, which hugged her slender legs and buttocks, drawing the attention of the four gawking men as she swayed her hips towards them. Her facial features were slightly plain, and her hair a dirty tangle of blond locks that fell upon her bare shoulders. Her eyes a mundane shade of brown, which held no glint or promise of excitement. Her lips thin and dry, whilst her skin seemed in need of soap and water. Although her features were plain and her face was already showing signs of premature aging, none of the men would have noticed if she was strikingly beautiful, since as she bent down to place the two large tankards of ale upon the table, her thin white blouse struggling to contain her ample bosom, fell loosely and left nothing to the imagination. The men sat with mouths open and eyes set firmly on the girl’s breasts until she slowly rose, offered Jacob a cheeky wink, and turned on her heels sharply, to walk with an even more pronounced swaying of her shapely hips in the same direction she came from.

  Jacob, Askia and Gulkin sat in silence leering at Ellina until she vanished from sight completely, whilst Holak sat eyes down devouring his stew enthusiastically.

  ‘She seems to have taken a liking to you, master’, William said to Jacob after he had placed an ale pot in front of each of his patrons.

  ‘I have prior engagements in that respect’, Jacob said with a hint of regret in his voice. William turned and left, saying nothing more and leaving the men to their privacy.

  Holak looked up from his meal long enough to say, ‘she may not be the best-looking wench I shall grant you that Jacob, but after a few more of those ales that girl will be ripe for a tumble.’

  Jacob looked slightly confused. ‘How can her father let her dress in such a way? Openly flaunting herself. Has he no respect for her?’

  Askia took a large gulp of ale and said, ‘He probably earns money from her lying on her back with her legs in the air. Besides, who is she to complain with food in her belly and a roof above her head. There are many who would kill to be in that position.’ Jacob, openly shocked, looked at Gulkin to see if he was being made sport of. ‘It is not uncommon Jacob. As you can see there is not much custom in here today, although the tax collector will want his pound of flesh, regardless. People take any opportunity they can to earn a few coins’, Gulkin said, answering his silent question. ‘Are you interested, Jacob?’ Holak asked after finishing the last mouthful of his stew.

  ‘Certainly not’, Jacob replied. ‘Forcing a girl against her will or paying for her company does not excite me in the slightest.’

  Holak looked a little serious and said, ‘No disrespect Jacob, but it is easy for you to be righteous in that area. When a man is stationed in the borderlands, he knows death can come at any moment, and he will take what pleasure he can, when he can. Whilst there is not many a girl that would not gladly lift her skirt for you, there are many brave men who, said girl, would refuse.’

  Jacob drained his ale and slammed the empty flagon upon the table. ‘That is why I shall take the moral high ground, so as to change the kingdom for the better, by my own example.’

  Holak nodded his head approvingly at Jacob’s attitude. He turned to Gulkin. ‘And what of you Gulkin, do you think a woman has the right to refuse a man, who may very well die to protect her the following day?’

  Gulkin looked thoughtful for a few seconds then said, ‘I am ashamed to say that as a young warrior I ill-treated women on occasion, with false promise and a rough hand. At the time I thought it was my right, but now, I regret it deeply. It is a hard thing to be a warrior and a man of God, and no brother in the order chose this life. We were simply born into the brotherhood.’ He looked down as a sadness passed through him. ‘The truth is men often use battle as an excuse to do things they know in their hearts is wrong.’

  Holak slapped Gulkin roughly on the back, causing him to spill some ale. ‘Maybe you have just got soft with old age Gulkin.’ Holak said in jest but was surprised when Gulkin grabbed him and began waving his stub at the young warrior as if it still contained a pointing finger.

  ‘I may be hindered by age young Holak, but that will not stop me thrashing you to within an inch of your life.’

  Holak was taken aback by this sudden outburst of violence from a well-respected veteran when he suddenly erupted into laughter.

  ‘What in the name of He who is Great, are you laughing at boy?’ Gulkin, said through gritted teeth.

  Holak raised his hand in submission. ‘Forgive me master Gulkin, it is just when you said hindered by age and started waving that stump in my face. It amused me. I mean no disrespect.’

  All four men stopped and shifted their gaze to the leather strap, covering the still healing stump that was all that remained of his hand, then Jacob, Askia and Holak all looked at Gulkin who had a smile steadily growing upon his face, and at once the group broke out into yet another fit of robust laughter.

  Brother Robert had finished his breakfast quickly and left Jacob and the others to their festivities. He returned to his chambers briefly, gathering his cloak, hat and walking staff, and then he left the castle hurriedly, trying not to draw attention to himself. He made his way west down a seldom used trail heading for the temple of his order, moving fast as he planned to walk the ten miles by midday. He passed a few soldiers in the king’s livery on his travels, but they had no need to pay much attention to a priest walking alone upon the road. He passed by the small villages and towns that were littered across the countryside quickly, not wanting relatives of people suffering from illness or poor health to hinder him by begging the priest for help, help he would gladly give if he did not have such pressing obligations to attend to.

  The temple was small, not much bigger than the town houses that the country’s traders abided in, with four rooms in all, two upstairs and two downstairs. Each room had two cots inside and a small hearth used for warming the stone room. Although the temple could house eight people comfortably, often there was only the caretaker of the temple residing there with a novice or two to see to his needs. Although referred to as a temple, the inside of the building held nothing remotely spiritual and was more a meeting place than a place of worship. There were no fewer than two dozen such buildings dotted throughout the kingdom, though the majority of the Fathers of the priesthood stayed either with the brothers of the order, in the fortresses of the north, or travelled at whim, giving counsel and aid wherever needed.

  At the back of the temple was a large garden, covered from top to bottom in beautiful wildflowers that stayed in bloom the whole year through. A single path led through the garden to an enormous oak tree that dwarfed even the tallest trees of the southern forest. It also refused to shed its greenery through the colder seasons and had been here since the priestly order first came to be over two millennia ago. Although the temple itself had been constructed a few centuries ago to replace the wooden structure that had rotted with age.

  The shrunken form of Ederwine, this temple’s caretaker, and also Grandmaster of the order, greeted Robert, as he made his way down the garden path. At one hundred and six years of age, Ederwine was the oldest and considered the wisest amongst the priesthood. His form bent over with age as his spine curved to resemble a question mark. His snow-white hair and beard were left to grow wild and had the consistency of dried straw. The only part of his body that had not succumbed to the rigours of old age were his bright blue eyes that still held the same sharpness as they did when he was but a young brother-warrior.

  ‘Hello young Robert, I am so very glad that you have come.�
� His weak voice cracked as he hobbled down the path, walking with the aid of a short staff. ‘And so very sorry about the reasons that instigated your visit’, Ederwine continued, taking Robert’s arm to steady himself as he led him round the back of the temple towards the tree. At the foot of the tree there was a small bench and a small table laden with a pot of tea and a selection of breads and cheese. Robert helped Ederwine take a seat upon the bench, then poured them both a cup of the herbal tea the old priest drank constantly.

  ‘How do you fare, Ederwine?’

  The older priest dismissed his worry with a slight hand gesture and said, ‘I am well enough, though old age hinders me at every opportunity. I have visitors continuously, villagers bringing food in exchange for advice or blessings. And my fellow priests drop in every so often, when their journeys permit.’ Ederwine took a sip of his tea and added, ‘How does our future leader fare, does our king still beat him unmercifully?’

  Robert looked up from the ground and Ederwine could tell instantly that he had ill news. ‘A power has awoken in Jacob; I fear for his sanity. And I fear it was me that woke it from its slumber.’

  Robert then told his old friend and tutor the events that had caused him to seek council from the Elders of the priesthood.

  ‘Do not fret my once time disciple. The power you spoke of has always been in Jacob. His mother was a very special women with many gifts, and his father, although one of the most skilled at the art of killing, had a heart full of warmth, kindness and love. His parents’ coupling was ordained, and Jacob’s birth was destined to bring balance to this evil world in which we live. Yet there are more troubling things which are not yet clear to me. An evil beyond our comprehension grows strong. It abides in the north, out of reach of my sight, but I feel its presence in every form of life.’

  Robert starred out at the tree which the order symbolised as an altar before God. The life force of the Earth and God’s blessing had made the tree strong of root, trunk and branch. That is how the Order of Light emulated to be: strong with their Father-priests, brother-warriors and those who they minister to, the people. ‘What must be done to combat this evil?’ Robert asked, scared of what the answer would be.