Legend of the Swords: War

by Jason Derleth

  Legend of the Swords

  By Jason Derleth

  Text copyright © 2012 Jason Derleth

  All rights Reserved

  Table of Contents:

  Prelude

  War

  Awakened

  Skills

  Battle

  Squire

  The Gredarin

  Interlude

  Introduction

  Battle at Three Hills

  Practice

  Scouts

  Interlude

  Friends

  Missive

  Commander

  War

  Interlude

  Searchers

  Climbers

  Mountaintop

  Questions

  Rolling the Rocks

  Living Rock

  The Bourne

  Interlude

  Up the Side

  Into the Mountain

  Battle in the Mountain

  Questing for Strength

  Discovery

  Throne Room

  Confrontation

  Interlude

  The Heart of the Mountain

  Down the Mountainside

  Punishment

  The War's Front

  Interlude

  Realization

  About the Author

  Prelude

  The corpse opened its eyes.

  A circle of light shimmered just above. Dimly, the realization came that it was under water, and long unused muscles struggled to sit up.

  Water cascaded, running in and out of wrinkled, rotting skin and disintegrating clothes. More poured out of its lungs, through an untasting mouth. Breath came, but provided no satisfaction.

  Laboriously, the corpse rolled over, and slowly pushed up to a crouch. Its eyes watched as a small fish nibbled on a ring finger, but there was no pain.

  Standing seemed to take all of the dead body's reserves. Once upright, it stood without moving for several minutes, head down and body swaying, before finally looking up. Dead eyes found that it was standing in a circle of water. A well-used dirt path was nearby, turning toward the setting sun, turning away.

  Shoulders slumped, then lifted in a useless sigh as its gaze followed the road and found mountains in the distance.

  With no destination, there seemed to be a long way to go.

  War

  The whole town is burning!

  Ryan’s young heart raced as he and his friend Edmund sped towards the fire. Thick smoke billowed out from the buildings of Middleton. As they got closer, the crackling and rush of air turned into a roar. Horse carts lay scattered near the path into town, the horses’ harnesses cut.

  “Where is everyone? Why aren’t they trying to put it out?” Ryan yelled as they ran into the center of town. He held his hands in front of his face to block some of the heat while peering through the smoke.

  Ryan saw Edmund shake his head, and noticed tears making tracks on his soot-stained cheeks. Ryan grimaced as a bag of herbs, gathered for potions, slipped out of the younger boy’s hand as they ran towards his home.

  “I don’t see anybody!” Ryan called.

  Edmund’s house had only just started burning. Ryan followed as his friend threw open the door and jumped into the smoke. A quick look showed that nobody was there. Coughing and spluttering, eyes watering from the smoke, Ryan grabbed Edmund’s shirt and pulled him, crying, out of the building.

  After a moment of holding Edmund back, Ryan felt the younger boy relax and stand up. He braced himself, mentally, and turned to head towards his own home.

  I’ve got to keep it together, for Edmund’s sake, Ryan thought. He’s about to lose it.

  Ryan’s heart leapt into his throat as he saw his house had burned to the ground, leaving only smoldering ruins. He called out to Edmund and they ran closer.

  I was just there this morning, he thought. We had eggs and toast. I asked mom if I could go with Edmund to gather herbs for his mother.

  As they approached, he felt the sweat on his arms and face evaporating, cooling his fire-heated skin.

  There was nothing left but a few shards of blackened pottery and the smoldering remnants of their dinner table.

  This time it was Edmund who was pulling on Ryan’s arm as he called his father’s name, his mother’s…

  It took a while, but Ryan eventually pulled it together. He looked into Edmund’s eyes, and saw understanding and pity—something that he would not have found a few hours before, when they had been playing at being knights with stick-swords in the forest.

  As Ryan looked around the town, he saw that the fire was already mostly out, with only a few buildings on the East side of town still in flames. They split up and checked several of the burnt-out buildings, finding them mostly empty. The Miller’s wheel was intact, and the Smith’s anvil looked so untouched it seemed almost out of place.

  The stables were empty, as well; the horses had run away, or had been taken along with the people.

  “We should get some weapons,” Edmund said, looking back at the Smith’s.

  “I doubt there are any left,” Ryan said. His cheeks felt tight and dry from the heat. He saw that Edmund’s face was bright red, as if he had been in the sun too long. “But you’re right, we should check.”

  They looked through the Smith’s house, which was more intact, but they couldn’t find any weapons. Edmund sniffed, and Ryan pushed gently at the smaller boy’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ryan said. “The smoke’s bothering me too.”

  Edmund nodded, and they staggered up a hill next to the remnants of their hometown. They both slumped down against a rock and watched the empty town smolder.

  Edmund broke the silence. “Who do you think did this?”

  Ryan shrugged. “We’re just a farming village,” he said. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Maybe they came for my mom.” Edmund’s eyes were wide. “She’s the only potion master for miles.”

  Ryan chuckled softly, but stopped when he saw the hurt in his friend’s eyes. “She’s been a wonderful help for the village, Edmund, but I think there are other potion masters.”

  The younger boy nodded. “Do you think it might have been … the war?”

  “The war with the Triols?” Ryan asked. “I … I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible. But they’re supposed to be a long ways from here.” He patted Edmunds shoulder. “I hope that’s not what it is. Dad says they’re monsters.”

  “At least there aren’t any … “ Edmund blanched and fell silent.

  Ryan nodded. “True. There aren’t any bones. But that’s just raises a new question: where is everybody?” He grunted in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

  Edmund squared his shoulders, and sat up tall. “They’re ok. I’m sure of it.” He tried to smile, but his lower lip trembled too much.

  Ryan smiled, but then sighed deeply. “What are we going to do?” He looked away.

  “I don’t know. I guess … away from this?” he said, gesturing to the town below.

  Ryan thought for a minute, his eyes unfocused, but staring at the glowing cinders. Suddenly, he stood up and held his hand out to the younger boy.

  “Let’s go find them, then.” He looked around. “We’re going to have to find them quick, or make a shelter—it’s going to be dark soon.”

  Ryan saw Edmund grimace, but he pulled him up to a standing position anyway. The fire’s smoke had filled the sky with low-hanging clouds, and the beginnings of the sunset seemed out of place: beautiful and serene. “Maybe they headed towards Bridgeport,” Edmund said, referring to the large city a few days’ travel away.

  Ryan’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded. They
started walking towards the road at a fast pace.

  It didn’t take long before they were beyond the wheat fields and near the forest that was between them and Bridgeport.

  “It’s getting dark fast,” Edmund said, scuffing the dry ground. He pointed to the overgrown forest that the dirt road wound through. “And it’s going to be darker in there.”

  Ryan nodded, looking at the dense undergrowth and tall evergreens. It was already too dark to see more than a few yards past the first boughs of the canopy.

  He stopped suddenly. “Do you hear that?” Ryan said, pushing his right ear forward.

  “Is that a horse?” Edmund’s voice was hushed, and his eyes darted left and right, looking for cover.

  “I think it’s more than one,” Ryan said. He stepped off of the road, and nudged Edmund to do the same. “Maybe it’s someone from the village coming back to get us?”

  “We can hope,” Edmund muttered, but he was frowning.

  A chestnut galloped out of the forest, sweat glistening from its flanks. A shadowy gray horse quickly followed. The riders wore the armor of knights, with the crest of the king. The chestnut’s rider had a big, curly brown beard. The rider of the gray horse seemed taller, more powerfully built, and had a small scar on his left cheek, right below his glinting eyes. They saw the boys and slowed to a canter, then, as they got closer, a walk.

  “Those horses are huge,” Ryan whispered out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing at the chestnut in front.

  Edmund nodded. “That smoky black one in the back must be eighteen hands high.”

  “Hail!” the knight on the chestnut called. His voice was clear and strong. “We have come to check on Middleton. We have news that our enemies, the Triols, have attacked. How fares the town?”

  The boys were silent for a moment, looking first at each other, and then up to the knights. Ryan stepped forward.

  “Triols, Sir knight?” he asked.

  The knight nodded sharply, motioning sharply for Ryan to continue.

  “Middleton lies burned, Sir knight,” Ryan said, quietly. “Although it seems it was empty when it burned.”

  The knight frowned. “Stay here,” he commanded. He nudged his horse forward, then into a hard gallop, and was quickly over the rise. The knight with the sneer followed.

  The two boys looked at each other again, eyes wide.

  “Triols?” Edmund’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Ryan. “And we didn’t find any weapons.”

  * * *

  The knights returned quickly, before dusk.

  “It is as you say. The town lies in ruins, but there are no bones, and little blood,” the bearded knight said as he dismounted. He left his horse on the side of the road. The second knight dismounted as well, and he quickly began clearing weeds and grasses a short distance from the road.

  “From the signs, the Triols have captured all of the townspeople.” He took off his helm, and looked closely at the boys, their simple, patched clothes, and their sinewy muscles. “All but two, at any rate. I presume that you hail from Middleton?”

  They both nodded, but Ryan could not hold his tongue. “The Triols have captured our families? How do you know?”

  The knight raised his eyebrows. “Be careful how you speak to your superior, boy.” Ryan looked down at the ground and nodded sheepishly. “It is a simple matter of looking at the signs, young farmer. There was blood on the ground in the east, in the direction the Triol army was last seen. And there were signs of struggle near the forest’s edge, which we found by following the blood.”

  The second knight spoke. His voice was gravelly, and low. “Gregory, you are too kind to these boys. They must help set up camp, if they want to stay warm tonight.”

  “I’m not helping set up camp!” Edmund blurted. “I’m going to search for my family.” He started walking towards the forest’s edge to the southeast of them, but the second knight caught his arm.

  “You’re going to search for your family, in the forest, in the dark?” He laughed sharply. “When they have been captured by an attacking army? I suppose it’s not my business if you’re going to be stupid.” He pushed Edmund away, laughing again.

  “Armand, don’t be cruel,” Gregory said, curtly. “Boy, what are you called?”

  Edmund turned to look at the knight. “Edmund, sir.”

  “Edmund, the only chance of finding your family and friends lies with our army, now.” Edmund’s mouth dropped open at the knight’s words. “And the only way that you will be able to join our company is if you live through the night.” He gestured towards where the other knight was.

  Armand had been opening packs on his horse, but now stared openmouthed at Sir Gregory, who continued. “Which you certainly won’t be able to do on your own. Now help us set up camp. We’ll need firewood.” He turned away from Edmund and started rummaging through his saddlebags.

  Ryan walked over to his friend’s side. “Edmund, we’d better play along,” he muttered in a low voice. “They can help us.”

  On the other side of the camp, Armand finally closed his mouth, but continued staring at Gregory with disbelief. He cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him. “Gregory, you can’t be serious.”

  “What?” Gregory asked, shaking his head slightly.

  “Did you just tell these… farm boys,” he sneered, gesturing at them, “that they could join the army?”

  Gregory strode over to Armand. “No, Sir Armand. I did not tell them that they could join the army. I drafted them. They will begin training as soon as we can get them to camp.”

  “What?” Ryan yelled, staring open-mouthed at Gregory. “You can’t just—”

  He stopped in mid-sentence, as Gregory turned to face him with steely eyes.

  “Sir Armand.” Gregory addressed his fellow knight without taking his eyes off of Ryan. “As you know, our situation is dire. The Triols push us back every day. We have little hope.”

  “I know, Sir Gregory, you’re used to training boys as we travel. That is why we brought your castle’s sergeant along. But these boys aren’t worth the trouble, I assure you.” He pointed at Ryan. “That one already spoke out of turn twice. Disrespectfully, too, with the temerity to question us.”

  Gregory frowned, and thrust his chin towards the remains of Middleton. “These boys have nowhere to go, Armand. Nobody left. Edmund has already said that he would throw his life away searching for the army that captured their families, and I imagine Ryan would lead the way.” He laughed, gently, and nodded at the boys. “Imagine what would happen if you found your families? You would instantly share their fate, and be a prisoner—if you were lucky and the Triols didn’t just kill you out of surprise or spite.

  “No, Armand,” he continued, “their only chance is with the army.” He smiled, but with a fire in his eyes. “If you don’t find your family alive, boy, then at least you will be properly prepared to visit revenge upon them for what they’ve done.

  “But for now,” Gregory said, looking over at Edmund, raising his eyebrows, “we need firewood. Why don’t you and Ryan go gather some wood so that we are not too cold while we sleep tonight?”

  * * *

  The morning after Middleton burned, they had marched directly to the local Lord’s castle and met the rest of the company. After that, the days had been filled with marching towards the distant Gredarin River, and the evenings had been full of sword practice. Pretty soon, Ryan had been too tired to stay awake for dinner. Edmund seemed to handle it a bit better, at first, but Ryan got used to it quickly enough.

  Over a month had passed, and the leaves were dropping off the trees where the company made camp for the night. The boys had finished marching and training for the day, and had just returned to their tent. It was just big enough to put three pallet beds on each side. Six young “recruits” had to put it up and take it down each day, which was frustrating, but it kept Ryan and Edmund from thinking too much about their terrible situation.

  “This place is terrible,�
�� Edmund said as he unlaced his leather jerkin.

  “Well, at least we’re allowed to rest a bit.” Ryan flopped down on his pallet, not bothering to take off his jerkin. “The others are still out practicing. We must have done well.” Edmund dropped his jerkin onto a large pack at the foot of the bed, and slowly flopped down onto his bed.

  “Sure, we did ‘well’—that just means ‘better than the others.’ They were so awful they’re being punished. I don’t know about you, but I got beat pretty bad.”

  Ryan rolled over—no small feat, considering how sore he was. Harvesting in the fields had made him sore before. This was different, though: wooden training swords left marks, so harvesting seemed nearly pain-free in comparison.

  Ryan wrinkled his nose, and sniffed a couple of times. “You’re right, it does stink.” He grinned. “But I think it’s mostly you.”

  Edmund threw a boot at Ryan, who ducked easily.

  “Seriously, Ryan, I don’t know why you’re not more upset.” Edmund groaned as he rolled over. “Endless marching, endless practice, and all of it is filled with smelly people in smellier armor screaming at us—

  “—With their smelliest breath?” Ryan interjected, with a wry grin.

  “Yeah, with their smelliest breath.” Edmund flopped onto his chest. “And we still have no idea where our families are.”

  Ryan’s grin faded. “Well, Gregory says that we might find them on the way to the river.”

  Edmund grumbled. “The Gredarin? I suppose. If they’re even still alive.”

  “Gregory said that we would have time afterwards to search for them, too.”

  Edmund snorted. “But when will that be? He won’t even tell us why we’re going to the river, much less when we’ll get there.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  Edmund finally cleared his throat. “I got hit twice as much as you did,” he said, rubbing his chest. Edmund rolled onto his side and pulled his shirt up. “I mean, look at my ribs! You’d think they’d put some cloth on those fake swords we use. Padding would be nice”