WORRLGENHALL

by Luke, Monica

  “Is all well?” King Rone asked concerned.

  “All is well now, my king. But, if I had not stayed the course as I did, would not be. Uded had set to do her harm.”

  “And where is Uded now?” King Rone asked, as his eyes looked intently at Laad.

  “I sent him on a journey,” Laad said frankly, “…into the afterlife.”

  King Rone smiled pleased with Laad’s action, and in how he phrased it. “You did well,” he said grateful, “and for such …ask a favor.”

  Laad thought only for a second, knowing exactly what he wanted. “I ask that when this battle is done and victory yours, I not tarry with the men and ride ahead back.”

  “Is there someone who hastens your return?”

  “Yes, great king, though the time short, I have wed?” Laad confessed.

  “Consider it granted,” he agreed, and Laad left him.

  Making his way to Bayl’s camp, Laad’s clothes soaked with sweat, he removed his tunic; then poured water on his head to cool himself.

  “What did harm to your back?” Wurden, his long time friend asked when he looked at him, “Did you find yourself caught in a tree thicket as you rode?”

  Laad dried his head and sat down hard. “I was wed,” he answered; then thought of Nona, as he looked at her hair beads.

  “And from the scratches, I will gather she was not a willing bride.” He laughed.

  “Willing,” his reply, but said nothing as his thoughts ran deep.

  “When a man is wed, one would hope he would be happy,” he commented when he sat beside him.

  Laad turned his head to Wurden, shaking it with indecisiveness. “She is barely beyond the age to bleed.”

  “Well, where you drunk?”

  “No.”

  “Then what came over you?” he asked curiously, knowing Laad was not one for hasty judgments or actions.

  Laad sighed, as he thought of the past few days. The golden wavy locks heavy and long on Nona’s head, her wide-eyed expression of love for him in her eyes, and words of devotion from her mouth, in such a short time had reached deep inside him. “…she…she,” Laad began to speak, but stopped.

  “She what?” asked Wurden, as he leaned forward and looked at him curious who now made him stumble over his words.

  “She has a way about her,” he blurted, yet the corner of his lip curled as pleasing thoughts of her came to him, which almost forced a smile, “And I am at a loss for words to speak what it is.”

  Wurden put his hand on Laad’s shoulders.

  “You have journeyed hard and far quickly back and forth in a short time.” Offering Laad a quick solution, “Your mind for reason was slowed. Speak that it was to the king and have her released as your wife.”

  “And have her live in shame. I have broken her seal,” Laad said, recalling his thrusts deep within her.

  “Is she fair to the eyes?”

  “More.”

  “Then trust another will seek her out.”

  “To allow such a thing would anguish me,” Laad said earnestly, “I want her with all that is within me and have let myself already love her.”

  Wurden sighed loudly, and stood. “Then it is settled.” His hand went to his shoulder before patting it hard and raising his voice for all around them to hear, “Everyone, Laad has wed while away, give him cheers!”

  **

  When night came, Belon and Ogorec sneaked away, but now so many men here and there they had no place hidden to go to embrace.

  “Such woe I have deep within,” Ogorec admitted, as he sat on his horse and Belon on his, “So much that I… I ...”

  “I will be fine,” he assured him, “But as for you cross the land hastily back to WorrlgenHall and wait for me. When I return, I will come to you.”

  “And if you do not?”

  “Then know before I breathe my last that it was you that filled my head.”

  “For such dread, I wished that I could go back a time,” Ogorec expressed worried he might never see him again, “And not yielded to you.”

  “Such words you leave me with.” Belon turned saddened, “Should those be what come to mind as your last words to me?”

  “No.” Ogorec’s tone became softer. Unable to keep his feelings hidden, they came freely this time, yet he still could not speak of love, “Let it be these. Never have I longed for another as I long for you.”

  Belon looked at Ogorec, who unable to look at him, looked ahead.

  “I will come to you and when I do, seize you passionately,” he promised, and rode away.

  Early that morning, as the men left with Baric pulled behind two horses on his bed, when Ogorec passed Belon along the way, he did not stop to speak to him, but such was his look that Tohlor raised a questioning eyebrow.

  As he watched Belon, who sat on his horse as the men passed with an unchanged expression, it changed when Baric passed.

  “Look at Belon. One could reason from his sad face that his lover was leaving him.” An envious Tohlor sneered.

  “Words of such will get your head crushed,” someone said, who stood beside Tohlor, “Belon is first in command under Bayl, and not one who controls his anger.”

  “There as those who question whose side Belon’s affection falls,” Tohlor hinted, “Women swoon over him, yet he has taken not one.”

  “Many times I have seen Belon with women.”

  “But, he has not taken a wife.”

  “If that is your reasoning,” he scoffed, “Then it is a foolish one. I have no wife, and my wants fall well to that of only women.”

  “Then reason what you will.” Tohlor huffed annoyed and rode away. Yet, his want great to be second in command to Bayl; repeatedly he tried to raise suspicion among the men about Belon.

  **

  As Ogorec escorted Lord Baric back to WorrlgenHall, he was so miserable he hardly spoke or ate.

  “I know your heart is troubled that you cannot fight alongside the king,” one with him finally said after days of sullen quiet, “Such as mine.”

  Ogorec merely nodded before he looked behind him at Baric, who was no longer sweating and spouting words no one understood, but still in a deep sleep.

  “It is the king’s wish,” he offered as a reply, and left it at that.

  Each night as they camped, Ogorec stared up at the stars letting his thoughts run deep of how he and Belon came together. It was he, ten winters older than Belon and in under the king’s command longer, who picked and trained him.

  He thought of the day many in the king’s service stood in the courtyard to present themselves to move higher in place, and as he and a few other men walked down the line of men to seek out those who could one-day become high guild warriors, right away Belon caught his eye.

  His thoughts of nothing more than Belon was tall and looked strong. He touched his shoulder, which meant he could step forward to try, but when he did, Belon gazed right into his eyes.

  Taken aback briefly, he tried to ignore it, but something about the way he looked at him constantly stayed with him.

  For a season, those trying to become high guilds trained, and although Ogorec tried to watch them all to see how well they were doing, once his eyes went to Belon, they remained on him.

  “He is faring well,” Aron mentioned when he noticed Ogorec watching him. “He will make a good high guild warrior.”

  “He has a fire within.” Ogorec knew right away, “And such could be harmful.”

  “They all need a fire within,” Aron added quickly, “To slay those bound to slay them.”

  As expected, Belon fared well and moved higher in the king’s service as a high guild warrior, and so above all was his skill in battles and bravery that Orem took notice of him and put him under Bayl as first in command, and his guard.

  By then, Ogorec who had bored of training, moved in place as Lord Baric’s first in command and guard, and since the brothers journeyed places and fought battles together regularly; Ogorec and Belon journeyed and fought alongsi
de the other.

  During a time after a long journey, late into the night while most rested, out of habit Ogorec stared out over the horizon, and Belon, who was unable to sleep and walking about to clear his head, by chance came across him.

  “Such sounds come from the night,” Belon said, as he approached him.

  “Nothing to the sounds coming from your tent,” Ogorec commented, yet he didn’t know why he mentioned it because it was none of his concern, “One would reason wild animals were inside it.”

  “Ha.” Belon laughed aloud, as he thought of it.

  “Where is your wild animal now?”

  “I sent her back from where she came.”

  Ogorec said nothing else and walked away, yet again, as he stood looking out late one night, Belon approached him, then stood beside him.

  “I must reason I am sought out,” Ogorec said curiously, “I am not in the same place as before, yet you have found me

  “You are,” Belon admitted.

  After he spoke, right away Ogorec looked at him uneasily, but kept his thoughts within; yet Belon as always spoke his mind.

  “I catch your gaze again and again. Is there is reason for it?” Belon asked; his voice low and soothing.

  “There is not,” Ogorec uneasily answered, and walked away.

  Early that morning, at Belon’s requests, he asked Baric to have Ogorec ride with him to explore land, but had already set in his mind where he wanted to go, he went to it right way.

  Riding to almost mid sun, Belon stopped at a sight he had seen as they crossed the land.

  “How did you find such a place?” Ogorec asked, as he got off his horse, taken in by breathtaking clear water and rocks, as he watched the water cascade of them into a lagoon.

  “One night as we crossed the land,” he answered, as he looked down at him, “I came upon it. If I had known you were one for such sights, I would have spoken it to you long before now.”

  “Hmm.” Ogorec sounded off and put his hand into the cool water.

  Quietly, Belon jumped off his horse and went to Ogorec.

  “There are nights while away that as the stars gleam high above us, a deep longing seizes me. Such that I ache, such that I want...”

  “You ache and want for what?” Ogorec asked, as he looked up at him.

  “Must I answer a question when the answer is known?”

  As he thought, slowly Ogorec let his hand skim the cool water once more, before he stood and faced him.

  “Should others?” he spoke his concern.

  “Such was our ride,” Belon assured him, “No others would be near us.”

  As he spoke his assurance none would know, Belon moved close to Ogorec and touched his arm.

  “From the first you touched my shoulder, as I lined the men to try to move in place, I have craved to feel you inside me.”

  Words such as that never spoken to him by a man, Ogorec remained silent unsure how to react.

  “If I fail to please you,” he then vowed, as he moved in close, “Never will I ask you again or speak of it to anyone.”

  Ogorec became breathless.

  “Only once.” He breathed in deep trying to regain it, noticing Belon slowly move in to kiss him, “No more.”

  **

  Ogorec and the men able to get Baric safely back to WorrlgenHall, as Baric rested in his bedchamber, one mid morning he suddenly sat up wide-awake bed, but his arms and legs weak and ailing; he quickly fell back onto his pillow.

  His last memory of the woman who tended to him, his arm went for his chest to feel his wound.

  “It is almost healed,” Orhan, who was in the chamber said, as he stood and walked to his bed.

  “An old woman,” Baric whispered; then reached for his throat, which felt parched and burned, “She helped me.”

  “I gathered someone helped by the sealed wound,” Orhan commented, “But you almost died from poison.”

  “Poison?”

  “Some you fought had poisoned blades.”

  “There was another. A young woman,” Baric recalled, as he swallowed trying to moisten his throat to make his words sound less raspy, “She saved me and tended to me in her hut after the old woman left.”

  “I would gather she is no more,” Orhan said shrewdly, “Your father set his will to lay waste to the land and all those within.”

  Filled with regret of the fate he now believed befell her, Baric again tried to sit up, but could not.

  “Urrhhgg,” he groaned when he tried.

  “For some time you have not eaten and have gotten weak,” Orhan said, “You must eat to regain your strength.”

  “Where are father and brother?”

  “Both are still away.”

  Just as Orhan answered, a servant came into the chamber to wash and feed Baric.

  “I will leave you. You have slept long enough, you need to eat.”

  **

  Now long into their journey, the lowland in their view, Orem stood on a hill and looked down over the land.

  “One would question why this land is wanted,” one of the men said to another, “It is hard to move from one place to another without toil.”

  “The trees among other things,” Orem said, “Look at them.”

  The trees reaching high into the heavens, if one were to climb them, starting at dawn, by dusk he still would not have reached its peak, “Strong sturdy timbers for fortresses.”

  “Far away these timbers are,” the man added.

  “Such is true, and still WorrlgenHall came to be from timbers afar…”

  Again, Orem looked out.

  “This night,” Orem ordered, “Gather fifty men and surprise them by burning two villages and by dawn, I swear we will have a messenger.”

  That night, just as Orem ordered, fifty men laid waste to two villages, and such was the fire they left, all could see it from high into the hills, yet even in the king’s fury, he was merciful and ordered any boy not yet of age and the women unharmed.

  Orem’s words true, at dawn a warning horn sounded that a messenger approached, and as was his place, he rode out to talk to the messenger.

  “What do you seek in our land?” the messenger asked Orem, “That you return to again defile it.”

  “No less than three times were you chances to leave. You forced our hand,” Orem answered, before he noticed Baric’s knife tucked in his belt, “Now the king’s son lay near death and you flaunt his knife.”

  “I have it with me to give back…” he replied quickly; then examined it once more admiring it, “It is well made and only a high born should own it.”

  “I will have it…” Orem said loudly, as he spurred his horse forward, but after it trotted a few paces, he stopped, “Throw it into the earth.”

  The man gritted, as the expression on his face turned from two speaking mutually respectful to one contemptuous of the other, then as fast as a blink, his arm raised and the knife flew from his grip.

  His aim accurate and unfortunately deadly, it sank deep into Orem’s throat making him caw as he grabbed at its handle before he slumped sideways off his horse to the ground dead.

  All watched stunned at Orem briefly ignoring the man that immediately fled afterwards.

  “Laad,” Bayl soon called out, his eyes now lifted from Orem and fixed on the man swiftly fleeing.

  When he heard his name, Laad hurried to the front line to Bayl.

  “Yes, my lord,” he said, as he moved his horse beside his.

  “He flees hard and fast, can you stop him?”

  Laad looked ahead and saw he was riding swift and hard, slightly bent forward as he did. “I do not know, my lord.”

  “I have seen you take the smallest bird down with an arrow as it flies…” Bayl spoke, as with each word the man’s distance grew, “He is a bird that flies.”

  Quickly, Laad grabbed his bow; then nocked the arrow. Then as he judged the man’s distance in front of him, he inhaled and locked his eyes on his target, as he pulled his bowstring
with full strength, careful not exhale until he released it.

  As all sat waiting, a great hush came across the open land, as their heads tilted high while their eyes widened and followed the arrow’s graceful sail through the air.

  Whistling as it did, it seemed to last long and as his distance widened, many murmured fearing it wouldn’t reach him, but as it sailed the wind seemed to take possession of it propelling it forward.

  “It will not reach him,” one groaned to the other.

  “Look!” Another’s mouth dropped suddenly.

  Although at first doubtful, they sat amazed as the arrow glided high a little more, then descended and honed right into the man’s spine, then as he grunted and fell forward, still on his horse, he disappeared into the trees.

  When he disappeared into them, a loud shout echoed out with men charging wildly from two directions, but unlike the first battle, now on higher ground, the king’s men had the upper hand.

  Forcing the men of the lowland to fight moving upward, the guilds on their horses charged down, each one of killing three of theirs, but the battle was far from over.

  “Be wary of their blades,” Belon warned Bayl and the king, who fought alongside the others from his chariot, “They are poisoned.”

  Swords clanging, bodies fell quickly, as each man fought with vigor. The lowland men seasoned from years of fighting to keep their land, again made victory seem in doubt, as many of the king’s men fell also.

  “Father!” Bayl yelled, as he groaned and wielded his sword, “We have slain many, yet their number does not fall!”

  “More are coming out of the forest!” the king shouted, “…this fight will end here with our defeat or victory. None will flee and let my son’s wound or Orem’s death be for nothing!”

  “So be it!” Bayl yelled.

  The king’s declaration set, Bayl had a gruel blow the horn to fight on and each man able to see his enemy’s face clearly as the sun now beamed, all obeyed and fought.

  “Belon!” Laad shouted, as he made his way to him striking down those in his path, “We need to pull back!”

  “The king’s wish is to fight on!” Belon words between slashes.”

  “My words were not to flee!”