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

by Aiden L Turner

  Jacob looked abashed at the king’s forthright words, whilst Audemar seemed ready to drop to his knees and profess his loyalty.

  ‘And how will you rule?’ the king continued. ‘Who will fight for you should one or more of the great lords come to take the crown and your head? Maybe it will be these men here.’ The king’s demeanour became harsh, his voice accusing. ‘You do not think I have knowledge of your plans for your reign? How you will make life for the common man? Your sense of justice and morality are a fiction as they have had no test. You dream these dreams because you have never had the mantle to wear, or a decision to make.’ So, take the bow, would be king of the common man but take heed to my words. For every man, whose life you save, another will die. For every family you feed, another will starve. For every time your name is praised with glory and honour there will be someone, somewhere, calling you murderer and tyrant. For that is what it means to be king.’

  Jacob bowed his head and said, ‘My king, as always I heed your words, and I hear the wisdom in them. When the time comes for me to wear the crown, I shall make you proud.’

  ‘Hmm. Very well. Enough Audemar, dismiss these men and continue with the preparations. And have a bow made for the prince.’

  Audemar dismissed the gathered bowmen and held his own bow towards the prince. ‘This is the finest quality bow we can make; it would honour me if you accept this as a gift and a token, my prince.’ Lord Audemar placed a balled fist over his breast and said, ‘I, my kin, my line and all my oath-men will always heed the call of the crown.’ He bowed low as Jacob silently took the weapon under the watchful gaze of the king. Audemar bowed once more to the king and left in the direction his men took.

  ‘So, my nephew, I have given, the majority of the men a day’s reprieve to drink and gamble and whore, as men without your sense of morality are wont to do. I wish the populace of this city to see the soldiers of the north as they see their own. I myself am in need of some sport’, said the king as he leered at a young maid carrying a basket of fruit. ‘You have the day to yourself, as I sense you were about to ask me something towards the same end. Now would be the time to thank me and take your leave’, the king said with impatience as his gaze wondered amongst the young girls seeing to their morning chores.

  Jacob hesitated for the briefest of moments as he wondered at the king’s prior knowledge to his request for the day to himself, then quickly thanked the king and left, making his way through to the stables where his men waited with readied horses. Brondolf, Wilhelm and Zachary stood in all their war glory. Their tabards had been cleaned and repaired; their polished armour shone like silver in the first rays of a bright morning sun.

  They all bowed from the neck as Jacob stood before them and Brondolf spoke. ‘Your Highness, may I once more suggest that you don your armour. We are but three men and though these lands are kingdom lands, these are troubling times, and the populace may see a young lord and wish for violence.’

  Jacob looked down at his royal blue tunic embroidered with the royal crest and his own badge proclaiming his title as prince and heir. His richly made trousers and highly polished riding boots announced to all his wealth and status.

  ‘These people will one day call me king, if it pleases, He who is Greatest, I shall not fear them or have them presume I fear them, besides,’ he added with a smile, ‘the day promises to be very hot.’ With that the prince of the kingdom jumped nimbly upon his horse, Frostbite, putting heals to flanks. Frostbite reared upon his back legs, relishing the early morning ride, and leapt through the stable gates, leaving Brondolf, Wilhelm and Zachary hurrying to mount their horses in the weight of full plate armour.

  The prince and his three oath-men made quick time through the throng of morning activity in the large port city. Brondolf led the way, and his endless shouts of ‘make way’ combined with his daunting presence had people clambering to make a free path. Within an hour of the clattering of iron horseshoes on cobblestone streets, the small group of riders made their way to the east gate of the greatest city of the south.

  Brondolf approached the guards stationed on the gate, and Jacob suppressed a chuckle as the guards shrank back from the grisly veteran of the brotherhood. Everything Brondolf did appeared menacing.

  Wilhelm noticed Jacobs’ mirth and remarked, ‘He could be sitting on an old man’s rocking chair swathed in blankets and stroking a kitten, and he’d still have me shitting my breeches.’

  Within moments the guards had moved away from the gate and saluted very formally and straight-backed as Jacob rode past. Once outside the city walls, the roads, whilst still travelled upon, were not as widely used as those at the north and west gates allowing the group to pick up speed, and after another hour of hard riding Jacob had led the party off the main road where they navigated a series of smaller tracks within sight of the coast. Jacob breathed deeply of the sea air and admired its freshness and pondered how a man could live in contentment at the coast. The game in the nearby trees looked abundant and judging by the amount of fishing vessels offshore, the sea provided as much if not more than the land.

  The group moved at a snail’s pace now as the coastal roads gave way to paths barely able to accommodate a single horse. ‘My prince’, Wilhelm shouted from the rear. ‘I understand the need for not disclosing our destination in earshot of the castle and even in the city, but I suspect we need not fear the squirrels or birds.’

  ‘He means “where are we bound?” Your Highness’, Brondolf said before adding, in a growl, ‘Wilhelm’.

  ‘Yes’, Wilhelm replied with cheer.

  ‘Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut!’

  Jacob laughed. ‘Not at all, Brondolf, I wish my honour guard to speak freely to me. I wish for advisors as well as guardsmen and not mindless sycophants.’

  Wilhelm beamed smugly. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. So, where do we go?’

  ‘Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut’, Jacob said with mock seriousness, though without offering an answer.

  They continued their way as the sun continued to rise in the sky and Jacob was grateful that he had not heeded the advice to wear his armour. The sun in the south was bright and hot during these brief summer months, as it was in the north, but the air was so much drier here and Jacob understood why the south so depended on the north for grain. The land south of the great mountain range saw less rain by half and the ground was more rocky and dusty than the rich, damp, dark soil of the north. So, while there were vast pine forest ranges filled with game, it was to the north where those in the south looked for grain. During the weeks of harvest, the king’s highway flowed like a river as hundreds of wagons brought the grain to fill the southern granaries.

  Brondolf rode at the front, before the prince, and caused all to halt suddenly as he reined in his mount without warning.

  ‘I deduce we have arrived, Your Highness’, Brondolf said over his shoulder.

  Jacob nodded and replied, ‘Walk on Brondolf.’ The group walked their tired mounts into a large open area and Jacob was taken back by the sudden beauty before him. A huge glade stretched out before him; a small stream ran from his left to right, gently cascading down numerous waterfalls only a foot in height. Trees were sparsely and sporadically dotted around the glade, leaving the area open and bright yet providing shelter from the glare and heat of the sun. No tree looked the same, but they were all uniquely beautiful and in the prime of their bloom. Blossoms caught the eye wherever Jacob turned his gaze, a riot of colour ranging from reds to blue but consisting of an uncountable number of shades. Wildflowers, caught in the slight breeze, waved their colourful petals as hummingbirds and bees buzzed from plant to plant. Even the normally gruff and stoic Brondolf seemed momentarily caught up in the peace and beauty they had stumbled into. Brondolf gained his poise and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, strapped to his back in the style of the men-at-arms of the brotherhood. Jacob snapped out of his wonderment and sought the reason of Brondolf’s readiness for defence and to his surprise
saw an elderly man sat crossed legged in front of a cherry tree, in the centre of the glade, with eyes closed and a look of pure contentment upon his wrinkled features.

  ‘You are wondering why you did not at first notice my presence, Jacob.’ The man opened his eyes and turned his face towards Jacob, a warm smile greeting the prince. ‘Now you’re wondering how I know your name. Take your hand from the hilt of your sword Brondolf. Where would you imagine lies the danger from an old man in a glade of peacefulness. Please dismount and unsaddle your horses. Let them loose to crop the grass and wander. They will be here when we return.’

  Jacob dismounted, followed by his men. ‘I am wondering many things: your name and where we are to go with you, are but two.’

  ‘I believe you are acquainted with my brother, the Grandmaster Ederwine. I am called Albert and I am here to educate you in a few of the fundamentals of life, your life in fact. Now come where old eyes can see you properly.’

  Jacob strolled towards Albert and as he neared, the old man sprang to his feet with surprising quickness. Jacob looked down into the eyes of the man before him and saw strength; more than strength, he saw power. The moments drifted by in silence as both men looked into each other’s eyes, seeking what lay beneath. Finally, Albert smiled and said cheerfully, ‘So, it is true, you are to be the king.’

  Jacob returned the smile and retorted with his usual good humour. ‘Well, you need neither wisdom nor foresight to predict that Albert, I am heir after all.’

  Albert turned serious. ‘You misunderstand me, boy. You are to be the king. The one who shall lead us from the dark. Now, we have much to do.’ With that Albert strode with swiftness and purpose out of the glade without looking to see if the king, who would lead them from the dark, followed.

  Jacob and his guardsmen followed Albert in silence as the elderly man threaded his way through paths under the threat of being overwhelmed by the brush on either side. After about a mile they entered another clearing with equally beautiful plants and trees yet the clearing here was dominated by an ancient building that had the look of once being a fort of some sort. As they came within sight of the old and crumbling stone building Albert finally stopped and addressed the small group as if he were giving a tour. ‘This building was once a watchtower guarding the coast from marauding pirates and the like, but once Lord Beringer’s ancestors had completed their navy the need for a military presence onshore diminished. The order moved in.’ The old man named Albert stopped to think, then suddenly he waved his hand as if dismissing something and added. ‘Around three centuries ago, or thereabouts.’

  ‘It looks nice’, Jacob said with a grimace as he studied the holes in the roof and the gaps in the masonry.

  ‘It looks like a derelict building devoid of any comfort, princeling, but looks can be deceiving as the old proverb goes.’ A bell rang clear and loud yet not harsh but rather it was quite melodic. As the single chime ended two young fathers of the order came hurrying from around the back of the building. ‘Ah, my brothers, our guests are on time’, Albert said as he swept his hand before Jacob, Wilhelm, Zachary and Brondolf. ‘Fathers, Michael and Stephen, please take Zachary, Wilhelm and Brondolf.’

  Brondolf protested, ‘Father, we cannot leave the prince unprotected at any time and in any company we...’

  Albert squared his shoulders back, and a power radiated from his being. The age fell from his face and his muscles seemed to grow, filling his previously loose robes. From seemingly out of nowhere, a staff appeared in Albert’s hand and as he lifted it to the sky thunder peeled through the air, causing all to flinch from the unexpected and deafening sound. Albert spoke, and his voice was a booming roar to equal the thunder. ‘And who could harm him in my presence! Or do you believe he is threatened by mine own hand? Know this Brondolf, son of Brondolf, I could sweep you aside as ash before the wind!’

  And with the ending of those words, Albert reverted back to the harmless-looking man they had greeted. His skin became wrinkled and his muscles shrank back beneath his robes. ‘As it happens, we are on the same side, young Brondolf, so we need not worry, had we? Now, please come with me, Jacob, I have much to show you and truly little time.’

  As Jacob hesitatingly followed Albert through the open door into the aged building, he was instantaneously assured by the proverb ‘looks can be deceiving’, for he stood in a large open plan room that, though much smaller than the great halls of Fort Sprettaman, equalled them in terms of comfort. The floors were covered in thick woven rugs and animal furs, the walls in finely loomed tapestries depicting the monumental works of the God of all creation, He who is Greatest of them all. Divans and chairs provided comfortable sitting areas to read the many hundreds of books that filled shelves on the furthest wall from the entrance. The room, around one hundred square feet in size, was well lit yet Jacob could find no source for the light, no windows or doors. He looked up and saw that the second story of the building obscured any light from above.

  Albert saw Jacob’s bafflement and chuckled. ‘As you can see, Jacob, there are no leaks. A few of us who have devoted our lives in the service of the creator have been given gifts to aid us in our maintaining and encouraging the force of good. The entirety of the inside of this building lingers in a bubble of sorts, a bubble that is lit and heated through will alone. It also never gets damp or dusty. We cannot have an elderly man sitting in the cold and damp, now can we? But we digress. Follow me.’

  Albert led Jacob through into a room that appeared to have only one purpose, as it was bare of furnishings and furniture alike. There was no apparent function: nowhere to cook, sleep, or even sit. There was however the most impressive suit of plate armour Jacob had ever seen. Buckled upon a man-shaped figure carved from wood, the plates lacked all the opulence of the suits worn by the great lords and those men of great wealth and means. It lacked the shine of the golden trim and the steel polished to a silver shine, yet in its black, graceless steel there held the barest hint of something that captured the eye as it dazzled.

  Albert struck a flint stone upon a torch and brought it close to the armour. ‘When the steel was forged,’ he said, as he waved the flame back and forth, ‘minerals, known only to those of the order, were infused with the iron.’ As the light caught the minerals they sparkled. A beautiful display. The armour looked like the sky on the clearest night, dark yet filled with the brilliant white light of a million stars.

  Albert took the plates from the lower leg first. As he fastened them to Jacob’s lower leg he said, ‘The minerals give the steel such strength. It can be hammered thinner. It is lighter and easier to move in than the armour used by those in the brotherhood, yet stronger by far.’ Albert continued to dress the prince for war, and Jacob remained silent throughout until Albert handed him the helm. Jacob turned it this way and that as he inspected its expert craftsmanship. The part that covered the back and top of his skull were more the same as the armour he now donned, but the faceplate took his breath away, for on that piece of steel that could be raised or dropped in a single motion was a man’s face. In fact, it was his face. The contours of his cheeks, the pronouncement of his chin, the holes that allowed him vision, were all perfect representations of his own features.

  Albert looked on proudly as he said, ‘That should mark you out from those of the brotherhood and noblemen alike, though for different reasons.’ Without waiting for a response, he doused the flame and exited the room.

  Jacob followed Albert up the staircase and onto a landing where three closed doors led in three directions. Albert walked to the middlemost door and opened it, ushering Jacob into a room about a third the size of the one below. The room was empty save for a strange-looking chair that had the appearance of an instrument of torture rather than a piece of furniture used to take comfort. There were no windows, no furs upon the floor, and the walls were covered with an old but smooth plaster, giving the room a quality of emptiness that appeared intentional.

  ‘Be seated’, Albert said, all trace of humo
ur gone. As Jacob sat Albert closed the door and the room was plunged into darkness. ‘Relax your mind and do not fight me. You will feel a presence much like when you joined minds with Father Robert. I shall merely touch your mind at first. Consider it a gentle knocking at the door of your mental consciousness. Then will yourself to open the gateway and I shall enter, but unlike the joining of minds you experienced with Robert, I shall instead manipulate your senses in order to show you things that words cannot describe or do justice to. It will be unpleasant. More so if you attempt to bar the way. One more thing, Jacob, do not be disturbed by what will come after. It is known to me and has been for such a long time. It is welcome.’

  ‘I do not understand’, Jacob said, caught between apprehension and confusion.

  ‘I shall say no more. We begin!’

  Jacob felt the human presence of Albert standing behind him. He heard the old man’s gentle breathing and with eyes closed he focused upon it and mirrored his own to match it, in order to relax. Several moments went by in silence and darkness, and Jacob felt sleep tug at his consciousness when he began to feel a pressure in his mind. Like sleep, it gently pressed upon him and he knew it was Albert’s mind reaching out to him, probing a way inside. The pressure increased like a bubble expanding within his mind and he had the thought of someone trying to push in-between his thoughts as a man might push his way into a crowded tavern. He heeded Albert’s words to him and bade welcome to the newcomer, imagining himself bowing extravagantly as he opened a door to a likeness of Albert. It worked. The pressure lessened, and he felt an overwhelming sense of rightness and calm. He felt Albert’s emotions within his own being and almost wept at the supernatural good in this man and his love for all life.

  Albert’s voice came to Jacob as if on a warm summer breeze. ‘Your Highness, you are everything Robert and Ederwine promised and more, so much more. I can feel creation itself in the very core of your soul. Truly you are born of Him. Let me show you your birthright.’