Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3)

by Brad Clark

  “Fifty lashes?” Simon asked as Gorman let out another whimper.

  Farrus did not reply to Simon. To Gorman, he said, “Soldier, you do understand that one of those prisoners was under suspicion for killing the emperor. Your emperor. Your cowardice may have allowed the emperor’s killer to go free.” He turned his head to look square into the eyes of Simon. “Lashes will not do.”

  Then Farrus turned and looked up at a cross timber that ran underneath one of the towers near the main gate. Simon understood the meaning of the look and called out to others to help him. Gorman also understood and began squirming and kicking trying to break free of Simon’s grasp. In the end, it took five centurions to drag the screaming centurion across the courtyard. The rest of the garrison stopped what they were doing to watch the scene. Everyone except for Gorman was silent. His wailing could be heard far into the forest.

  It had been some time since the chosen punishment had been used, but it was the only one that Farrus thought was appropriate. Gorman had lost any faith that his fellow soldiers had in him and he would no longer be able to serve with them. He would be a pariah if he were allowed to continue serving in the army or even if he were allowed to walk away. Farrus would lose the respect of his men and thus his command authority. His career and possibly his own life would be over. Gorman would have to be dealt with swiftly and strongly.

  A long and thick branch was cut from a nearby tree and tossed onto the ground behind Gorman. By now he was resigned to his fate, so he was only letting out a sad whimper. He was pushed to the ground and rolled onto his back. Two lengths of rope were tied around the branch and tightly around each arm, which were spread out along the branch. Farrus, as the acting commander, took it upon himself to take the responsibility of driving nails through the man’s wrists and into the thick branch.

  With each strike of the hammer upon nail, Gorman screamed. Once the nails were firmly pounded in, more rope was tied to the branch on one end, and the other end was tossed over the cross timber, which was secured to the tower about eight feet off the ground. With all available hands working together, they pulled on the rope to lift the branch up to the timber. Gorman kicked and screamed, trying to wiggle his way out, but his arms were firmly tied to the branch, and his wrists were securely nailed to the branch. The rope was tied off, leaving Gorman hanging limp.

  Farrus looked up at the soldier. He did not feel sorry for him, as he had no sympathy for cowards. It would have been much simpler to have killed Gorman as the other centurions had been killed – with a quick thrust of a dagger directly into the heart. But Gorman needed to serve as an example for others, to motivate them to do their duty and not be a coward. The cries and screams of Gorman would last for weeks, or even months, in the ears of his men. The next time they would have a thought about making an unwise choice, they would hear his cries. Eventually, enough time would pass and the death of Gorman would just become legend and it would no longer serve its purpose. But at least for the winter, he would have highly motivated soldiers serving under him.

  With Gorman left whimpering to contemplate his impending death, the remaining soldiers of the garrison returned to their duties. Most were tasked with burying the dead. Farrus picked out the best four remaining including a centurion named Robert. Robert had been born and raised in the area and knew the land as well as anyone.

  “Gather your weapons. We head out on their trail immediately,” Farrus said,

  “Didn’t you say to the mayor that we weren’t going to do that?” one of them asked.

  “He would have insisted on bringing his men along and they would have just gotten in the way. But we need to move quickly before the mayor and his men do decide to try and pick up their trail.”

  Robert led them out the front gate. Farrus followed a few steps behind with three other centurions who were thankful to not be on grave digging detail. Robert took some time at the main gate trying to discern the tracks of the mayor and his men from the three prisoners. Once he picked up their path, he started walking east, away from the city.

  Robert walked slowly, his eyes on the trail. With four others around him, he didn’t have to worry about anything other than finding the path of the murderers. Farrus kept his eyes out ahead of them, while the three other centurions kept their eyes and ears in the other three directions. No one talked, they kept their ears open to any sound. Even though it had been some hours since the prisoners had escaped, they couldn’t just assume they weren’t hiding behind the next tree. The escapees were alone without provisions and warm clothes. They would need to quickly find some or die from exposure to the cold. Farrus, based on past experience, believed it was entirely possible they would simply come upon their frozen bodies huddled underneath a tree.

  After a couple of miles of slowly trekking through the woods, Robert suddenly stopped. Farrus, his eyes on the woods ahead of them and his mind elsewhere, almost ran into him.

  “What is it?” Farrus asked.

  Robert looked around the ground for a moment before he answered. “They stopped here. Probably for not too long. See, their tracks cross around one another. But a lot of standing around, probably talking about where they are going.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then they moved on.” Robert pointed eastward, where the tracks continued through the snow. “And they weren’t very careful about hiding where they went.”

  “More concerned about putting some distance between themselves and the garrison,” Farrus suggested. “How long ago?”

  Robert shrugged. “Hours. The wind has blown over some of the tracks, so it’s been a while. Unless they stashed warm clothes and provisions, we’ll catch up to them for sure. Or at least their bodies.”

  Farrus nodded his head in agreement. He turned to the other centurions. “We are still behind, but stay vigilant. It’s not only the three murderers out there, but bandits as well.”

  Robert took the lead again and moved quickly along their trail. The murderers had certainly not made it difficult for them to track. Not only did they do nothing to cover their footprints in the snow, they stayed to open areas and straight lines. It certainly was easy enough to follow them, but they would have to start moving much faster if they were to catch up before dark. But Robert didn’t want to move any faster and risk losing sight of the trail or missing any clues.

  Not much further down the trail, Robert stopped once again, his feet planted firmly in the snow. He looked around slowly at first, and then more quickly. His eyes were wide and his lips moved, whispering curses under his breath.

  “What?” Farrus asked, realizing that something was wrong.

  “It stops. Right here.”

  “What does?”

  “Their trail,” Robert replied. “It just ends right here.”

  Farrus stepped forward to check himself. He couldn’t see the trail ending. It seemed like it continued on into the forest. “It keeps going, right?”

  “Look carefully,” Robert said. “Whoever these guys are, they are good. They came across a game trail and joined up their tracks with the tracks of several deer. It looks like they just keep going into the woods, but they stop right here. The deer tracks continue, but the footprints stop.”

  “I don’t see it,” Farrus said, trying to see what Robert saw. There was a trail through the snow, but there were no clear prints of any sort – animal or human. Just a messy trail through the snow. But Robert was one of the best trackers that Farrus had ever worked with, so he trusted that what he saw were tracks left by deer.

  “It was a small herd. Ten, fifteen, maybe. All moving along together and the prisoners joined up along the same path. I thought they were being sloppy on purpose, but they were smarter than I expected.” Robert pushed past the sergeant and the other centurions, walking slowly back along the way they had come.

  After about ten minutes, he stopped right next to a large tree.

  “There,” Robert said. “There’s no snow on that tree. They climbed it and moved fro
m tree to tree. Clever.”

  They pushed their way through the thick underbrush of the forest, following the trail of trees that had snow knocked off their thickest branches. At the base of another tree, clear footprints could be seen heading away from the tree. It was obvious they had jumped down from the tree’s branches and started running back west.

  Farrus looked at the trail which was heading directly for Iseron. “It’s the last place we’d look for them,” the sergeant said, mostly to himself. “They knew that. Robert, you, and you, with me.” He pointed to two of the centurions and then looked at the third. “You, run straight for the garrison and gather everyone to arms. Then march to the city. Go!”

  With Robert and two centurions in tow, Farrus started jogging towards Iseron.

  ***

  Conner followed Glaerion out to the edge of the water. “I don’t see them,” Conner said.

  “They are there,” the elf said. “They see me and they are coming.”

  Conner looked back into the city. It was late morning and the people of the city of Iseron were out and about, hustling and bustling with their everyday tasks. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Just a typical day in the small port city. But he feared that soon the centurions of the garrison would be storming the city. Although Glaerion’s idea of trying to fool those who were tracking them was a good idea, even the elf admitted that an experienced tracker would pick it up quickly. But they had all agreed that it was worth the shot to try and get their pursuers heading out into the forest while they doubled back to the city. They hoped it would give them enough time to escape, and so far, it had.

  Hargon appeared from the back of a nearby building and walked up to them. He had a small sack stuffed full under his right arm. His left hand held an apple, from which he took a bite.

  “The town is up in arms,” Hargon said while chewing the apple. “They are talking like some ghost swept into the garrison and killed everyone. They are all pretty scared since most of the centurions had already left the garrison days ago.”

  “Oh?” Conner said, his eyes still trying to see the sailing ship that was coming to pick them up.

  “Most of the garrison marched east with the army,” Hargon said.

  “The army? What’s to the east?”

  “Karmon,” Hargon replied grimly.

  “Looking for the Ark?” Conner asked, a bit of panic in his voice.

  “Is there any doubt? My dear brother is going to find that Ark one way or another. If he puts his mind to something, he will go all out until he achieves his goal. Trust me. I’ve been on the receiving end of his ferocity more than once.”

  “What do we do?”.

  “We get the ark first, of course,” Glaerion said. “Then we take it back to my people. If Emperor Tarcious wants to try and come get it, I will be glad to stand in his way.”

  “He is vicious,” Hargon said. “And he has great powers. Far beyond what you might think.”

  Glaerion snapped his head around and glared at the former emperor. His words came out slow and deliberate. “Do not presume to tell me what I think, or what I know. I have seen more than you can imagine. This little fireball that you described, it would be just a little candle to that of the power of a true wizard. Your brother is but an infant when it comes to the ability to cast spells. With each day that he is alive, his power grows. I can feel it. I can feel the web of magic as he draws from it. And it scares me. Not because I fear him, but because I fear what magic can do. It is powerful and can do great things. It can help build great cities, but it can also rip the world apart. I was on the front lines five thousand years ago trying to keep mankind from destroying the world. And we succeeded. We banished magic from the world because magic has no place in the world of man. But like a disease, it came back. And now that it’s back, it’ll spread like a disease. It’ll take over the unsuspecting, leaving only dead bodies in its wake.”

  Glaerion turned his back to Conner and Hargon. The mast of the elven ship was now clearly visible on the horizon. “I came to this land to slay the man who would be casting magic. And before I leave for my homeland, I will do just that. But as much as Tarcious must die, the Ark of Life must be saved. If Tarcious gets the Ark and puts it in the hands of the Deceiver, then …”

  Conner and Hargon waited for Glaerion to finish his sentence, but he didn’t. The elf stood stoically watching his ship approach.

  “Then what?” Conner asked.

  “There is one more possibility,” the elf said thoughtfully. “Tarcious could keep the Ark for himself. In the hands of the Deceiver, the Ark is a weapon that will open a door for the gods to walk through. The earth will once again be their battlefield. The armies of the Deceiver and Creator will wage war right here, and the earth will not survive. Regardless who wins, Man and eleven-kind will lose. But if Tarcious keeps the Ark, then the Deceiver will not have direct access to this world.”

  “So,” Hargon said with a chuckle. “What you are saying is that we are relying upon the greediness and power hungriness of my brother to save us?”

  Glaerion shot Hargon an angry look. “Tarcious is a puppet of the Deceiver, whether he thinks he is acting on his own or not. We cannot assume that Tarcious will keep the Ark. We must assume that he will give it to the Deceiver. But if he does try and keep it for himself, your brother is not the only puppet of the Deceiver that walks the earth. There will be war for the Ark. Regardless, we simply cannot let Tarcious have the Ark. We cannot risk it getting into the hands of the Deceiver, so we must not let him have it at all. I know what I am getting into and I will die before I let Tarcious have it. What about you, Conner, and you, Hargon? Are you ready to die for the Ark?”

  Hargon stood silent, but Conner spoke up. “I’ve already died once.”

  “The next time, it’ll be permanent. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to sacrifice your life to save the world from Tarcious?”

  Conner knew what it meant to make such a commitment. He had made it once before when he had agreed to become Elissa’s champion. He had accepted that duty without question even though he never really understood what that meant. But not necessarily in the context of sacrificing his life. He knew on the surface that it was his duty to protect her at all costs, but he was still young enough to not fully understand that meant he just might have to die to save her life. Even though it had only been two seasons since all that happened, and he wasn’t even a year older, he felt so much older. It was not time that made him feel this way. It was the experiences of life that made him feel much older than his years.

  The idea that he would die for someone he barely knew bordered on silly. He now knew that it had been his youthful emotions that had spoken for him. Elissa was astoundingly beautiful in both her looks and personality. She had fully enchanted him and he now knew it. It didn’t mean that he cared for her any less, but he did wonder if he really loved her still. The thought of her put a smile on his face and a warmness in his heart, but he wasn’t sure if that was love, or something else.

  But the Ark of Life was something different, something much bigger. Michael had charged him to save the ark, and now here was Glaerion, ready and willing to help him save the ark. Clearly, this was not coincidental. His thoughts went to Master Goshin, who had spent so much time with him training and pushing him to be more than just a great swordsman, but a great man as well. Goshin had his life taken in such a meaningless way at the hands of Tarcious. If there was any reason that Tarcious should die, it was because of what he did to Goshin. He wondered what Goshin felt, at the moment when he knew that he was about to die. Conner hoped that he knew that he had lived a good life, a life worthy of respect and honor.

  “Yes,” Conner said. “I am ready to die for the Ark. What about you, Hargon? Are you ready?”

  Hargon let out a grunt. “I may not be that old, but I certainly feel it. Death would be a comfort for me.”

  Glaerion turned to watch his ship approach.

  Conner stepped forward and stood
next to the elf. “What if we had answered otherwise?” Conner asked. “What if we said we weren’t ready?”

  “I would have killed you, of course,” Glaerion said. “It would have made my task much more difficult without your help, but I need companions who are as committed as I am.”

  “We didn’t really have a choice then, did we?”.

  “You always have a choice.”

  A commotion caught the elf’s ears. He turned to see four armed centurions running through the main street towards them. If not for the exclamations of the scared citizens, he might not have heard them before it was too late.

  “We must go,” Glaerion said.

  “But the ship, it’s still a ways out,” Conner said. He looked back at the centurions who were now only about a hundred yards away. “The rowboat won’t make it in time. Shall we fight?”

  “Nothing would suit me more than spilling more blood of Man,” Glaerion growled. “But we have no time for this. This is not our fight today.”

  Glaerion turned to look to the waters of the Gulf of Taran and the ship that was still some distance off. Then he looked back at the centurions who were closing fast. He let out a long sigh and said, “Be ready and follow my steps exactly.”

  The elf turned back to the water and closed his eyes. Words of a language that Conner did not understand left his lips. With the exclamation of a thrust hand, the elf opened his eyes.

  “Follow!” Glaerion called out. Before the other two could react, the elf started running into the water. But instead of running into the waves, his feet stayed atop the water, as if he were running on an invisible bridge.

  Conner did not move, but Hargon just shrugged his shoulders and followed. Only after he saw the former emperor of Taran running atop the waves did Conner follow. It was just like an invisible bridge all the way out to the elven ship. By the time that Conner reached the ship, Glaerion was on deck and Hargon was being helped up off a rope ladder. Once Conner grabbed a hold of the ladder and started climbing up to the deck, Glaerion leaned over the deck and said more words in his native tongue.