Protector's Curse

by Keith Walsh

  PROTECTOR’S

  CURSE

  KEITH WALSH

  Protector’s Curse

  Copyright © Keith Walsh 2017

  ISBN 978-1-911180-83-8 Soft Back Edition

  ISBN 978-1-911180-84-5 Hard Back Edition

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Printed in Ireland by Lettertec

  No part of this publication, including illustrations or photographs, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  All the characters portrayed in this book are entirely fictitious

  and bear no relation to any person living or dead.

  About the Author

  Keith Walsh lives in Dublin Ireland and has been a writer since old enough to hold a pen (now upgraded to a keyboard in accordance with this modern world!).

  He has worked as a computer and electronics engineer for many years which kept him away from his true passion of writing for much longer than he ever intended. Until the fall of the Celtic Tiger brought many changes upon his company and he decided to move on to the gaming industry were perhaps his craving for creativity might find some sustenance.

  Unfortunately the company he moved to collapsed within nine months of his newly found rejuvenation and he was cast into unemployment. At the same time he was diagnosed with a pituitary tumour which he continues to deal with to this day due to the fact it was discovered too late to save the pituitary gland and so surgery is all risk with no reward and so medication will be needed for the rest of his life. And as bad as all that sounds, the saying goes, “Every cloud has a silver lining” and for Keith it was a return to his true passion: writing. During the dark nights he began to write again and among his many works he created a short story called Princess and Mr. Giant which he posted on a writing site called Writing4all.

  The people there liked the story so much they suggested he turn it into a book. Being something he always aspired to achieve and with the support of friends and family pushing him through any self-doubt and inner demons the book you now hold is the fully realised creation of that short story.

  Protector’s Curse is Keith’s debut novel and he truly hopes you will enjoy reading it as much as he enjoyed creating it.

  If you would like to contact Keith or offer any feedback please feel free to tweet him: @KeithWalshAuth.

  Chapter 1

  Amber peered at the giant from behind Sister’s legs. She had never seen anyone of such size before and she was almost six now. The giant tilted his huge head down and said “hello,” but Amber shot back to her sanctuary and stood stock-still. The giant had a deep voice and it scared her a little. She tugged gently on the dress that Sister was wearing, and she looked down at Amber and smiled widely.

  “It’s okay Amber. This is a gentle man called Gallant. I promise he won’t hurt you,” said Sister, her voice soft and light, her smile warm. Addressing the giant, Sister said, “Please forgive her Gallant. She is a little shy.”

  Amber considered peeking from her safe spot but upon hearing the giant’s voice again, she remained motionless. “No need to forgive,” Gallant replied. “She’s been through a lot. Besides I have this effect on women much more her senior. I never thought my size could be a negative.”

  “Nonsense,” retorted Sister. “You are a good man Gallant. Given time, Amber will come to see that too.” Gallant scoffed then spoke.

  “Forgive my rudeness Sister, but how do you know what type of man I am?”

  “Faith,” answered Sister smiling. “The fact you are here, ready to help, and that you come recommended by someone I both love and trust,” she added.

  “Dallious…” said Gallant, and Sister nodded in agreement.

  “I still do not understand why he put me forward, his skill far outweighs mine,” he confessed, shaking his head.

  “Dallious has come to know peace here Gallant,” Sister said simply. “Perhaps that is all the reason there is, or perhaps you should be asking him that question?” she added with a wry smile. Gallant laughed and nodded, his gesture showing appreciation for Sister’s straightforwardness.

  Sister didn’t seem scared of the giant, and bolstered slightly by this fact Amber risked another peek. Gallant caught the movement and knelt down on one knee offering another hello. This time Amber smiled back at him, blinked, then disappeared from sight again. Sister and Gallant could hear her giggling and remained still, waiting. Amber ventured out again, this time in full sight although she kept one hand clutching at Sister’s dress.

  The giant didn’t look so scary when kneeling down and Amber felt more at ease. She tapped her foot and twisted it shyly while looking at the ground. Then she glanced at the giant once more, her eyes sparkling. Gallant was taken aback. The child was beautiful. She had perfect brown hair that flowed over her shoulders and looked like silk and the most amazing brown eyes, large and full of life. She was a petite little thing of average height.

  “Princess…” Gallant spoke the word aloud and, realising his unintentional mistake, blushed slightly. “You hear that Amber? Gallant thinks you’re a Princess,” Sister laughed.

  Amber giggled excitedly. “Don’t be silly. I can’t be. My hair is the wrong colour for a start. The Princess in my book has yellow hair.” She looked at Gallant while speaking and his heart melted.

  “Well,” started Gallant. “I say you are a Princess that’s even nicer than the one in the book, and I think I will call you that from now on. What do you think of that – Princess?” he asked, beaming.

  Amber let go of Sister’s dress and skipped towards the kneeling giant. Up close she noticed his teeth and frowned. “Why are your teeth all yellow?” she asked.

  “Amber! That’s not a nice thing to say,” Sister’s tone startled Amber but the giant just laughed.

  “Please don’t encourage her,” scolded Sister with a stern look.

  “I am very sorry Sister. It is simply the innocence of the child. She means no harm and she is quite right. My teeth are terrible,” replied Gallant softly, his laughter subsiding.

  Sister smiled at him again. “Like I said Gallant, you are a good man.”

  “You are too kind, Sister.”

  Amber, who had been taken aback by Sister’s raised voice, relaxed and moved closer still to the giant. Gallant didn’t move, although his knee had started to pain him from kneeling for so long. He knew Princess was about to overcome the last of her shyness. After a brief hesitation she reached out and ever so gently pushed her fingers into his thick beard.

  He didn’t say a word. Amber smiled at him and he smiled back. As he did so she reached her other hand up to his beard and then cupped his face in both hands, leaned forward and planted a kiss on his left cheek. Then she drew back and through her smile said, “If you call me Princess, can I call you Mr Giant?” Despite asking Gallant the question she turned to look at Sister, seeking approval from her.

  “What a lovely thought Amber,” said Sister. “I think that quite suits you Gallant,” she continued but her words were directed at Mr Giant.

  “Oh, I agree.” Mr Giant looked at Amber and said, “It’s a deal. I will call you Princess and you can call me Mr Giant.” And with that he reached out his huge hand to shake on it. Amber ignored it and with a big smile she uttered a single word, “Yay!”

  “Amber, you are supposed to shake hands on a deal. Mr Giant will show you how,” said Sister, and she found herself smirking at the words ‘Mr Giant.’

  Amber looked at Mr Giant then and he spoke to her, “You just reach out your hand and hold mine as tight as you can and then we move them both up and down like this.” He demonstrated the gesture
for her. Still smiling, Amber reached out and clasped her tiny fingers around one of his giant ones. Gallant moved his thumb ever so gently over her hand and then moved his arm up and down as he had demonstrated.

  “Deal,” said Mr Giant, and Amber nodded eagerly before turning to Sister and asking “what’s a deal?” Sister did her best to explain and then said she needed to speak with Mr Giant alone and suggested the girl go and pack her things. Amber knew better then to ignore Sister’s requests and she skipped happily out of the room, calling a goodbye over her shoulder. She had been afraid of Mr Giant at first but now she loved his bushy beard and the way he called her Princess.

  “She is a delightful child, Sister,” said Gallant as soon as Amber had left the room. “I cannot understand why anyone would want to hurt her.”

  “Forgive me Gallant, but it is not for you to understand. You are simply to protect her at all costs. I do not mean for you to be careless with your life but—”

  “Say no more, Sister. If needs must, I would sooner die then see any harm befall the child.” Gallant’s expression suddenly darkened as he envisioned ramming his hunting knife with brutal efficiency into the gut of an assailant. Sister felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked at him standing with a knife in his hands. His stance moments ago had been one of a gentle, caring man but now she doubted the wisdom of letting Amber go with him. But what choice do I have? she thought. We are out of time. And in her heart of hearts she believed Gallant to be a good man.

  Almost as though he could read her thoughts, Gallant shook himself from his and was surprised to find his knife in his hands. Clearing his throat while embarrassingly sheathing the weapon, he spoke. “What I mean is, she will be safe with me. You can count on that Sister.” The words were meant to reassure but Sister felt little comfort from them. She had seen for the first time a glimpse of the demon within him and it had left her cold.

  Gallant, sensing Sister’s discomfort, smiled at her. But he felt a mild irritation with her reaction. What did she expect? I am hired to protect the girl and yet I’m supposed to be a saint in doing so? I am a killer, not a wet nurse. Does she think the enemy will be honourable and kind if they catch us?

  ***

  Kalen sat upon a moss-covered rock. He twisted the rapier he held in his hand left and then right, flicking it in various precise formations, the movements effortless. How could something so small and light be so deadly? he thought.

  A smile appeared on his face as the next realisation hit him. The weapon was not deadly – it was the wielder who possessed the deadly intent. A weapon would lay motionless and indifferent if it were not for the sword arm and the intent to kill. It did not seek honour or revenge, it felt no emotion, it spent most of its life sheathed and in darkness.

  In Kalen’s hands, however, it was most certainly a deadly weapon. He had become a natural killer. His instructors had tormented him, tortured him to the point that his burning hatred for them had been unsurpassed. When finally good enough to best them, he killed each without remorse, savouring the moment of their deaths. Relishing the shocked look in their eyes as they realised their student had become the master and their demise the only reward he desired.

  At least that is what he chose to believe now, but somewhere in the back of his mind the full truth nagged at him. Honour – only fools and the weak speak of it. Those who wanted true honour took it. They had no need to speak of it.

  He remembered his first duel. The man, his name unknown, had died before the contest could even begin. He performed the traditional salute, the honourable salute – rapier raised to face then swept away to the right. Kalen had waited for the gesture when his opponent’s rapier would be moved to the side and then he lunged forward and thrust his own blade deep into the man’s neck. He had fallen back in shock, eyes wide with surprise as he dropped his weapon to grip at his throat, pointlessly trying to stop his lifeblood spurting from the wound.

  Kalen just stood smiling and watched as the crimson liquid flowed beautifully through his opponent’s fingers and fell to the earth below. He waited patiently while the man bled out, watching him first fall to his knees and then slowly topple awkwardly backwards.

  There he lay, outlined in blood, his breathing ragged as Kalen walked around his body and squatted down to look into his eyes. The man stared back at him but he could not speak. He tried but air and blood gurgled from his severed windpipe. Kalen just gave him a wicked grin before saying, “You are a fool. Life is not a game and your so-called honour has just cost you yours. You could have beaten me. I knew this as did you, but in your arrogance you never considered I would slay you the way I did. You are a damn fool.”

  Kalen’s words were spoken softly but dripped with contempt. They were the last thing the man heard as life left his body. Kalen wiped his bloodied rapier on the dead man’s tunic before rising smoothly and sheathing it.

  “Should we be burying him Sir?” Atheles asked. Kalen’s eyes blazed as he locked them on Atheles. “If I wanted to spend my days burying fools, I would have put you in the ground a long time ago Atheles. And more to the point, I will tell you when I want your opinion. You do not voice it freely. Is that understood?” Kalen did nothing to disguise his anger and he had almost – almost – slain Atheles on the spot.

  “Yes Sir. I understand and I apologise for my outspokenness. It will not happen again. Sir.” The response angered Kalen even more but he had already made the decision not to kill the man and so he struggled to remain calm. “A simple yes will do. Do not apologise. Only the weak apologise and I have no need of weakness. Is that clear?” His hand twitched impatiently on the hilt of his rapier, his face filled with disgust, his eyes looking away from Atheles.

  Atheles could see he was about two seconds from death and this time he answered simply, “Yes.”

  “Good.” Kalen spat his response, his head turning sharply and his ice-cold, deep blue eyes considered Atheles. “Tell the men we move,” he ordered and they mounted up and rode from the scene. He did not look back.

  “Sir?”

  “What is it Atheles?” asked Kalen, recognising the voice of his giant companion as it pulled him from his memories.

  “We have a report from one of our scouts. The girl had been hidden in a convent known to help orphans. Apparently she left with a giant of a man, heading southwest.” Before Atheles could say another word Kalen spoke, “I see. And where is this scout now?” He asked the question in a nonchalant manner but Atheles had been around the man long enough to know better. He beckoned to a raggedly dressed old man at his side.

  “This is him?” asked Kalen, scowling.

  “Yes,” answered Atheles. “His name is—”

  Without a word and with lightning speed Kalen drew a dagger from its sheath on his chest strap and plunged it into the scout’s belly. The old man grunted and blood sprayed from his lips. It splattered on Kalen’s face and he delighted in it as he dragged the dagger to the right and pulled it clear of the stomach it had eviscerated. The old man slumped to his knees and managed to whisper one word, “…why?”

  Kalen knelt and lifted the paling face so he could look into the eyes. “Because you are careless…” but his words fell on deaf ears as the old man was already dead.

  Kalen pushed the man away and watched as the head snapped lifelessly back and came to rest in the dirt. The mouth open, the eyes too, but much to Kalen’s annoyance instead of shock they seemed at peace.

  Atheles watched as Kalen performed his usual ritual of wiping his bloodied weapon on the deceased’s clothes before sheathing it. He had seen Kalen perform this action on many occasions and it still caused him disgust. You have taken a person’s life, all that they have and all that they will ever have, the least you can do is bury them with respect, he thought. But he had learned not to voice his opinion to anyone as he valued his own life too much to throw it away foolishly.

  Kalen, angered by the fact he had not been able to deliver his speech to the scout, voiced it out loud. �
��This fool was too careless in his investigation. How else could you explain that the girl was seen leaving the convent? Had he done his job successfully she would have been considered safe in one place and we would be upon her. No convent would stand against us.” He paced back and forth as he spoke.

  “A giant on a journey to an unknown destination. That is a different prospect. That has the potential to cause us problems. Damn fool,” he continued, his frustration unmasked. Upon finishing the rant he began gathering his things and packed them into saddlebags on his horse. The men with him followed suit. They had learned to follow his actions without question.

  “How far to the convent?” asked Kalen.

  “According to our deceased scout, it’s one and a half day’s ride from here, provided we travel at a good pace,” answered Atheles. He looked to the sky then and shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare.

  “Judging by the sun’s position I’d say we would possibly need another half day, unless of course we travel at night. However, that will mean going at a much slower pace and of course there is added danger during nightfall.” Kalen cursed. That fool has already taken one and a half days to reach us. By the time we get to the convent this giant, whoever he is, and the girl will have a significant lead. Tracking them will be difficult, thought Kalen, his frustration clear for all to see. The men shifted uneasily.

  “We will have to travel at night. There is no choice in the matter. The girl and her protector will gain too much ground if we do not,” Kalen said, glaring at the old man’s corpse. Atheles followed his master’s gaze and felt sadness flow over him as he looked at the dead scout. As usual his master’s logic was flawed, coloured by his anger and hatred. If the old man had really given away his position and been the reason the girl and her protector left the convent, then surely every effort would have been made to capture him. Meaning he would not have been free to report back. Another senseless death, thought Atheles.

  His musing was interrupted as his companions mounted their horses. The six men left the watering hole, Kalen at the fore.