The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  Jonas recognized the man, for he had seen him several times in the past. He was called Tuvallus, but no one knew if that was his real name. The burly man was a hermit, a hunter and trapper who lived on his own deep in the mountains. He only came into town a few times a year to trade his dried meats and furs for supplies that he needed. He was always spoken of with a mixture of fear and awe, for people feared what they did not know and no one knew much about the strange trapper. But he always came into town with the most furs and meats to trade, a feat that was highly respected in the mountain town of Manson. He rarely spoke and many people thought he was crazy.

  The man was tall and wide and he wore a coat of thick mountain wolf furs. His boots were made of leather and lined with similar fur. He needed no hat for his head was draped in a mass of long curly black hair and his face was covered with a thick beard and mustache. It looked as if his entire face was hair, except for two holes for his eyes and one for his mouth. Tuvallus carried a big hunting knife in his right hand and a longbow lashed to his back next to a quiver of arrows. Dangling from his side was a sword, its pommel wrapped in black leather and the cross piece was polished silver like his knife blade; both seemed to be in contrast to his dirty and wild appearance.

  “My apologies, boy, thought you might be after me kill,” Tuvallus said as he moved past Jonas and continued to dress the elk, cutting away skin and slicing off large pieces of flesh, which he laid out in the snow.

  “Are you Tuvallus?” Jonas asked as he moved closer to him. The man simply grunted in response and continued to prepare his kill. “I have never seen a mountain elk this time of year,” Jonas commented as he watched the trapper expertly slice into the warm red flesh.

  Tuvallus did not respond as he continued to lay out strips of elk meat.

  “How did you sneak up on me in this snow? I did not hear a sound until I felt your knife,” Jonas said as the man continued to ignore him.

  Jonas waited for a response while the trapper worked on the dead elk. Finally Jonas shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk away. His cabin was not too far off; he could see the smoke rising from the chimney into the frigid mountain air. He walked a few paces before turning back to Tuvallus.

  “Sir, my mother has a warm fire and she is sure to have some rabbit stew boiling. Would you like to step out of the cold for a while and warm your belly with the best rabbit stew you’ve ever eaten?”

  Tuvallus finally stopped and looked up from the dead elk. His face was completely covered with hair so Jonas could not read his expression. After a few moments of silence he spoke.

  “You be invit n’ me to ur cabin? A man you don’t know, who just put a blade to ur throat?”

  “Umm…yes. We don’t have lots of food, but it is very good. I can assure you of that,” replied Jonas confidently.

  Tuvallus shook his head grunting and went back to dressing the elk. Jonas shrugged again and turned back around. He walked a few more paces before Tuvallus called to him.

  “Hey, boy!”

  Jonas turned around to face the trapper.

  “Bring this to your mother,” Tuvallus said, tossing a large piece of elk meat toward Jonas. The bloody meat landed in the snow at his feet and Jonas picked it up with a smile. It was wet with blood and still a little warm. Jonas had never had elk meat but he had heard it was the best.

  “Thank you, Tuvallus,” Jonas said excitedly.

  Tuvallus simply grunted and went back to work.

  Jonas put the piece of elk meat into the cloth satchel he carried on his back. He had to take out the loaf of bread so the blood from the meat wouldn’t spoil it. That was okay though; he could carry the loaf in one hand and still use his crutch since their cabin was so close. Jonas turned around and walked toward his cabin. He smiled, for he had two gifts to give his mother on this day.

  Jonas set his crutch down, his hand awkwardly freeing the door latch. The door swung open and the warm air from within covered him like the summer sun.

  Lorna, his mother, was adding some spices to their stew that was boiling in a heavy black cauldron hanging over the fire. She was a strong woman with a beautiful face despite the slight wrinkling caused by many years of hard work in the sun. She wore her long dirty blonde hair pulled back and tied with a piece of leather. She had seen over forty hard winters, many of which were laced with bitterness and scorn from her town, but she was content with her life and she smiled often, which lit up her face and made Jonas feel safe.

  “Jonas, it’s about time,” his mother said thankfully. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

  “I’m fine, Mother. You know it takes me a while to walk back home.” He plopped his tired body on the wooden chair that his mother had made him. The seat cushions were made of many rabbit hides stitched together and stuffed with straw. It was very comfortable and Jonas loved to rest in it before the crackling fire.

  “Here is the loaf. Gorum said he would love some of your dried rosemary as payment. He said to bring it by tomorrow if you have any and he will get us another one.” Jonas handed the hard loaf to his mother and she moved to the wooden cutting board on their table.

  “Thanks, Sprout. We’ll go into town tomorrow,” his mother replied as she cut several large slices from the loaf.

  Jonas smiled at the nickname. He always loved how his mother did not focus on his disability; she always tried to treat him as a normal boy, including him in everything that she did. She would wait patiently for him as they picked berries in the forest, tended their garden, or set their rabbit traps. They were all each other had and he loved her dearly. Jonas smiled excitedly as he pulled out the slab of meat from his satchel.

  “Mother, look at what I have.”

  Lorna turned from the loaf of bread to look at the piece of meat Jonas had in his lap. “What is that?” she asked curiously.

  “It is elk. I met Tuvallus the hermit on the path here and he gave me a slice of his kill to give to you,” Jonas said with a broad grin.

  Lorna moved towards Jonas with a beaming smile. “Really? Tuvallus gave you that?” she asked as she took the meat from Jonas.

  “He did. I have never had elk meat before. Can we cook some tonight?”

  Lorna smiled at Jonas as she put the piece of meat on the table. “Yes, we can have a little tonight with our stew. I’ll dry and smoke the rest. This is a great gift, Jonas. I hope you thanked him,” she replied as she cut off a few slices of the meat.

  “I did. I invited him home to eat with us, but he didn’t want to come. Mother, do you know anything about Tuvallus?”

  “Not really. People in town say he used to be a soldier in Tarsis. He keeps to himself and not much is known about him,” Lorna said as she continued to prepare dinner.

  Jonas thought about Tuvallus, the heat from the dancing flames stroking his tired muscles, easing his thoughts as he processed his interesting day.

  They sat at their old wooden table eating the rabbit stew and bread. Lorna had fried the elk with salt and onions and it was delicious, the most incredible food he had ever eaten. It was soft, full of flavor, and it didn’t have the strong gamey flavor that he was used to in venison. Jonas held his spoon between his thumb and palm; his other fingers didn’t usually work well enough to grasp the spoon handle.

  “I met a stranger in town today,” Jonas said through a mouthful of stew soaked bread.

  His mother looked up startled, for it was not common to have strangers enter the mountain town of Manson during the winter. The passes would be snowed in and only the hardiest of men could traverse them.

  “What did he want?” she asked concerned.

  “Oh nothing, he just wanted to give me this,” Jonas said as he brought his hand down on the table and removed it quickly, leaving the gold coin spinning around like a top. It was pure luck that the coin was spinning, as he didn’t have the dexterity to do it on purpose. But the effect was dazzling as the coin spun, catching the subtle light in a beautiful dance of brilliant gold.

  Jon
as smiled as his mom put her hand to her mouth in shock. She quickly reached out and grabbed the sparkling coin, inspecting it closely.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked with astonishment.

  “I told you, a stranger with paintings on his hands helped me up when I fell. We talked a little and then he handed me this coin and told me to give it to my mother. He was so kind, and he had a sword and bow, and the most magnificent horse I’ve ever seen,” Jonas said excitedly.

  “Paintings on his hands? What do you mean?” she asked.

  Jonas explained to her the marks on his hands and the symbol on his steel cuirass. Lorna’s face lit up in amazement.

  “He was a cavalier. I can’t believe it. I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one,” she said to herself. “Did he give you his name?”

  Jonas looked up as he stuffed another spoonful into his mouth, “Yes, he said his name was Airos. What’s a cavalier?”

  Lorna looked at Jonas with a huge smile on her face. “This gold coin can feed us well for a month. We’ll be able to get through the end of winter with warm food and full stomachs. This is a fortune, son, I can’t believe our luck.”

  “I know, Mother,” Jonas said impatiently, “but what is a cavalier? He looked like a warrior.”

  “I only know what your father told me many years ago. He said he saw a cavalier once in Finarth and they are warriors chosen by the gods to protect and serve the weak, and to serve the greater good of mankind. They are very rare and known to have special powers. The marks on his hands meant that he was a master swordsman sworn to uphold the High One’s word. The symbol of the High One is a four pointed star over a circle. Each point of the star represents all four elements; earth, air, water, and fire.” His mom paused to look at the gold coin in her hand. “Who you saw was a great warrior, God Marked, and you should consider yourself very lucky to have met him.” She looked again at the coin, smiling. “Actually, we should both be thankful that you met him,” she said, laughing with happiness.

  Jonas, smiling at his mother, happy in her joy, continued to eat his soup, thoughts of the day’s events running through his head. “Mother, does the High One have a name? You’ve never talked about him much.”

  Lorna got up, hiding the coin in their secret spot under a floor board. “Yes, the High One is called many names throughout Kraawn. But you should not use any of them lightly,” she said as she sat back down at the table. “I only know several of his names; we call him Ulren, but I know that in the West he is called Toolm. It is believed that our goddess, Shyann, has a palace in his realm.”

  “So Ulren is the most powerful of the good gods?”

  “Yes. It is believed that the lesser gods all have a place at his great hearth,” Lorna said as she ate.

  “Is our goddess, Shyann, a lesser god?”

  “Shyann is a saint. That means that many, many years ago she was just a normal person like you and me, but she performed a great feat of selflessness and bravery, catching the High One’s attention. Ulren rewarded her by granting her sainthood, power, and a place at his hearth.”

  “What did she do that made her a saint?” Jonas asked before he took a long drink of water.

  “I don’t know exactly. The tales say she took a small village, like our own, and fought back against an army of boargs, orcs, and other monsters.”

  “What do boargs look like?”

  Lorna smiled, Jonas loved hearing about boargs. “Boargs are strong, fast beasts that inhabit the high Tundren Mountains. It is thought by some that they are related to the big mountain boars that live there. Some think they are the result of a wizard’s magic, but no one knows for sure. They have pig like faces with tusks like a boar, sharp teeth, and two great horns that protrude from their bony heads. They are taller than a big man, but they look shorter because they are bent over and their long arms usually rest on the ground. Short, rough hair, covers their muscular bodies, and they are said to be stronger than several men. And I’ve heard they run on all fours and are swifter than deer. They are ferocious animals that will eat anything they can get their claws on.”

  “When was a boarg last seen around here?” Jonas asked, never short of questions.

  “The last one I can remember was when you were just a baby. Jornath Longhorn went hunting and he never came back. His brothers went out into the Tundrens to investigate and found his ripped and torn body. As they wept over his body, a boarg who was coming back to finish its meal attacked them. Braal, the bigger of the two eventually killed the boarg, but not before he was seriously wounded and his other brother was killed. Braal still has the boarg’s skull mounted in his home.”

  “I hope a boarg never shows up at our cabin. Keep going, Mother, tell me about Shyann,” Jonas said excitedly.

  Lorna, smiling at her son, drank some more water. “She was just a normal girl that went off to become a soldier, which was rare for a female in these parts. She fought many battles and finally came home to serve her family on their little farm in the Tundrens, not far from here I’ve heard. I guess they raised cattle and hunted and grew food that they sold in the local markets. There came a year when her village and the other villages nearby were raided by boargs crossing the mountain ranges towards Finarth. This was one of the great wars that you’ve heard about.”

  “Yes, I remember. Go on, Mother, what happened?”

  “I don’t know the details, but the story goes that she trained and united the many mountain towns all across the Tundrens and fought back this horde. Evil men who were trying to unite with the forces of Malbeck led the boarg army and she crushed them, marching her ill-equipped group of hunters, farmers, and herders, to help Finarth combat this evil. I have no idea how she did it, but the stories and songs say that she could inspire anyone. She was good with a sword but her real skill was convincing ordinary men and women that they had something to offer, that their blood was just as strong as another’s.” Lorna took another spoonful of soup and smiled at her son who had stopped eating altogether, entranced by her story. “I’ve told you this story before, Sprout,” Lorna said as she swallowed her stew.

  “I know, Mother. I just really like it. Keep going, please”.

  “Well, all I really know is that after the forces of Malbeck were destroyed, the king of Finarth knighted her. Then one day, when she was traveling back home to her village, tragedy happened. Her small army was camping deep in the Tundrens and boargs ambushed them in the middle of the night. Shyann’s forces defeated them but the cost was great. In the battle, Shyann was mortally wounded. She lay in her tent dying, her men trying everything they could to save her. The next morning when the surgeon came in to check on her, her body was missing. There was nothing in her bed, no body, no clothes, just her sword, bow, and her shield. But the strangest thing about the legend was that in the middle of the tent, a stout oak tree, no more than five feet tall, appeared, and as they cleared the camp and set for home, the men noticed the tree had grown. It grew to the height of ten men with great limbs reaching out towards the sun’s rays.”

  “Is that why one of her symbols is the great oak?”

  “Yes, it is,” Lorna said as she added more water to their cups from the clay pitcher on the table.

  “Where is the tree now?” asked Jonas

  “No one knows, but some people think that her tree is somewhere in the Tundrens and her tomb is located there, or maybe it is just a story and it doesn’t exist at all. Now finish eating and get some sleep. We have to head into town tomorrow early.”

  “Okay, Mother,” Jonas said, stuffing his mouth with more stew, thinking about the next month without the usual trepidation. The gold would buy meat and other things that would make the last winter months bearable.

  ***

  The morning came quickly. It seemed to Jonas that he had just put his head down to sleep when his mother woke him gently. The aroma of her herbal tea was a sweet comfort that greeted him every morning. She swore that her recipe kept them from getting sick during
the winter months. Jonas loved her tea. It warmed and invigorated him after drinking it. Jonas was excited as he drank the tea, knowing that he would need the energy for the walk into town that his mother and he had planned last night over dinner.

  The morning was cold, and the harsh mountain air poked and prodded their skin through the gaps in their clothing. The night’s new snows made it harder than expected for Jonas to make the mile long walk into town. The heavy, wet snow, grabbed at his feet and crutch, making the walk more difficult.

  Finally, after an hour and a half of walking, they entered through the town’s main gate. The town was surrounded by a sturdy wall of tall thick logs lashed together and stuck four feet into the ground. The stout gate was built of oak and bound together with bands of black iron. It was open during the day but at night it was shut to keep out the wild animals, and any roaming monsters or boargs. It was rare, but on occasion a hunter would return with stories of mountain ogres, hill giants, and other wild creatures.

  Normally, at this time in the morning, the town would just be awakening, but today, the town was already a bustle of activity. The rich smells of Gorum’s fresh baked bread and freshly lit hearths wafted down the street as Jonas and Lorna made their way across town. Lorna reached over and held Jonas close to her as the townspeople hurried towards the grange, where they often had town meetings. Several children that Jonas recognized stood by the butcher’s shop staring wide eyed at the people moving toward the grange. The feeling in the air was tense; something was wrong.