“Father, of whom do you speak?” asked the prince.
The king, looking at his oldest son, took a deep breath. “Kiln,” he said bluntly
“What! Kiln? He left Finarth over fifteen years ago. Do you even know where he is?” asked Prince Baylin.
“Sir, with all due respect, Commander Kiln left your service in disgrace and without leave. He is not fit to protect Jonas,” added Lathrin, speaking for the first time.
“I agree, Father. The stories are old but if they are anything close to the truth then he is not fit for this task.”
“I know where he is located. He sends his men to the markets once a year. I have had trackers follow them over the years so I think I know his location. He was a good friend of mine…”
“A friend who left you and broke his oath. It is not right,” the prince interrupted.
“You do not know the whole story, son.” The king sighed heavily, “No one does.”
“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but who is this Kiln?” asked Jonas.
The king looked at Jonas. “Kiln was my general, Jonas. He was unbeatable. We were best friends that grew up together, but he was a commoner and I, of course, was not. We trained as knight apprentices just as you and Fil have. He is the best warrior I have ever seen, and his mind, as well as his body, is an instrument of war. I have never seen his equal with a blade. Anyway, when I became king I appointed him general first class, high commander of the Finarthian army. We won many battles together, fighting the orcs and ogres from the Tundrens, the bandits from Numenell and the raiding tribes from the Flatlands and the Sithgarin Desert. He simply did not lose. He became a legend, here in Finarth and all over Kraawn. Warriors sought him out, challenging him with blade and axe, but he was never beaten.”
“What happened to him, my Lord? Why did he leave?” asked Jonas.
“I think maybe it is not my place to tell that part of the story, but he left my service. I know the truth of it, but no one else does. He could not stay here any longer and he lost the taste for war. He traveled far to the lands in the east for several years before returning and hiding out in the mountains with the riches he had earned in my service, carving a life out for himself deep in the Tundrens. By all accounts he is a recluse, and keeps to himself.”
“And you think Jonas will be safe with him?” asked Lathrin.
“I do. He has at least ten men that work for him and I will send a handful of knights to stay with Jonas. Besides, Kiln can teach him things that we cannot.”
“Sir,” interjected Manlin. “It is obvious that Shyann, the Huntress, has marked this boy. That mark has put him in danger, a danger that all cavaliers know well. They are constantly hunted by the Forsworn, but cavaliers are trained for that, and this boy is not. I suggest that he stay with me in Shyann’s temple.”
“It is true that Shyann has marked him, but his presence here is a danger to everyone and there is no way that we can hide him from the populace for a year. The word would get out and there are some very powerful people that blame him for this tragedy. It just wouldn’t do to have him here.” The king looked back at Jonas. “Son, we have not asked you what you think. It is important that you have a say in your own destiny. What do you think?”
“Sir, what if Kiln will not take me?” asked Jonas.
“I will write a letter to Kiln myself, the contents of which will be more than enough to convince him to accept you in his care.”
“Sir, if you think it is a good idea then I will do it. I do not want to cause more problems here. I want to train to be a cavalier, and if going to stay with Kiln puts me one step closer to that goal, then so be it.”
“Then it is settled. Now we need to put together a team to take Jonas into the Tundrens.”
“I will head that team, Father,” ventured Prince Baylin crossing his arms and standing firmly. “After all, it should be someone from the royal family who presents the letter to Kiln. Besides, I was just a young boy when he left and I would like to see him again. I remember very little about him.”
“And I will be by your side, my Prince,” added Graggis.
“Good. Baylin, pick eight others from our knights. Pick men that have experience in the mountains, for the journey will be long and hard.”
“I will, Father.”
“Jonas, can you be ready in two days?” asked the king.
“Yes sir,” Jonas said confidently.
Seven
Kiln
I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Fil said as Jonas pulled himself into his saddle. The king had given Jonas a glittering coat of chain mail and new traveling clothes of high quality. The new tunic he wore was blue with the symbol of Finarth embroidered on the chest. His black breeches were made of softened leather and his boots were made of the same material and of equal high quality. A gray wool traveling cloak draped his shoulders and at his belt was a long sword and hunting knife, all gifts from the king. His ash wood bow was strapped to the side of the horse next to a full quiver of arrows.
He had never worn such fine clothes nor had he ever received gifts from a king. It amazed Jonas at how fast things were changing for him. Just two years ago he was a cripple living in a small mountain town where he had traveled no more than a half day from where he was born. Now he was a traveler that could ride a horse, wield a sword, and use magic to some degree, not to mention he was receiving gifts from the king of Finarth. It was hard for him to believe. Even so, the cost had been steep, and he wished his mother could be here with him, to see him sit proudly on his steed.
“I will miss you, Fil. Good luck with your training,” Jonas said, reaching down and taking Fil’s hand in the warrior’s handgrip. Jonas was feeling very anxious at leaving his friend behind. They had been through a lot together and the parting was not easy. But both knew that they had different paths, at least for now.
The entire blue team was there to see him off, except for Bornius and Litus, who were killed by the demon. The other teams had lost more boys on that dreadful night. Jonas’s team was bunked closer to the south door which enabled more of them to get out before the demon tore into them.
Bornius’s death sat heavy on Jonas’s heart as the young man was kind and carried a lot of promise as a knight. They had kindled a strong friendship over the last year and he missed him greatly. Jonas felt guilty. He knew it was his fault that the demon had come that night. In fact he had learned that is was very possible that the deaths of his entire village were his fault, including his mother. High priest Manlin had suggested that that could be the case, that all the attacks that have occurred around Jonas had been directed at him. If that were true, although he was unclear why the Dark One would target him so, that meant that he had a lot of blood on his hands. He was carrying a big load of guilt on his shoulders and he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions. Mostly he was angry and a large part of him was glad he was leaving. He didn’t want to endanger anyone else, plus he wanted to move, to ride, to train, anything to occupy his mind away from the guilt.
The last week had been difficult for Jonas. He had wept for his friends that were killed and he was trying to deal with his friends who survived. Some were cold to him, obviously blaming him for the tragedy. Others, like Calden and his other teammates, were friendly and treated him with new respect. They asked him questions about the demon, his God Light, his meeting with the king, and where he was going.
Fil’s wounds were healing quickly thanks to Manlin. His shoulders were very sore and it would be several more weeks before he could start training again.
“You be careful, Jonas. Remember, I will not be there to watch your back,” Fil said with a smile.
“I will. I will see you soon, my friend,” Jonas replied, not really knowing if it were true or not. He was saddened to think of his journey without Fil. He had been with him ever since his mother died and the reality of his departure without him made Jonas realize how important he was to him.
Prince Baylin rode up to Jonas, addres
sing him seriously. “Are you ready, young Jonas?” he asked. The prince looked magnificent. He, too, wore the blue tunic of Finarth, but it was laced with silver and gold thread that glittered in the morning sun. A shining chain mail shirt and matching metal greaves and wrist guards completed his uniform. He was prepared for hard traveling, and hard fighting if need be.
His men rode up behind them all similarly outfitted. With them were Graggis and eight other men, all hard looking men who were forged from the many battles they had fought. Sal, the young knight that showed them around on their first day, was there and he nodded his head at Jonas as he rode up. There were also Jorm and Nogris, two brothers who were known for their woodcraft. They had been hunters and trappers as young men before they joined the Finarthian Knights. Next was Dagrinal, fourth lance, who rode up on a large and magnificent warhorse. The last four were all young knights recently accepted into the order. There was Largress, Togin, Gar, and Piap. Finally there was the king’s tracker, Beorth, who knew the Tundren Mountains intimately. He was dressed in light woodsman’s clothes and high leather boots. The horse he rode was smaller, lither, unlike the bulky horses the others rode. Beorth was outfitted with a long hunting bow and a thin rapier dangling from his hip. The man was thin and wiry, his un-kempt hair and beard giving him the look of a man from the mountains.
“Be careful, Jonas,” warned Calden, walking up to him to shake his hand.
“And you, my friend,” replied Jonas with a smile.
“Let us go,” ordered Prince Baylin riding forward followed by the rest of the men. Jonas smiled one more time at his friends, locked eyes with Fil, and rode off into the morning sun.
***
The first two weeks of travel were easy and without incident. The terrain made for easy travelling. Expansive meadows of grass with spotty patches of trees could be seen as far as the eye could see. The grassy hills they rode through were gentle and allowed the traveler a clear view of the expansive sky to the east and the craggy peaks of the Tundren Mountains to the west. They had headed south through the Finarthian hills and across the Bitlis River that flowed into the Sithgarin River, which meandered all the way to Lake Lar’nam. Jorm and Nogris, their scouts, always rode ahead of the group. Beorth rode with the main group and his knowledge of the area allowed him to estimate that they had about two weeks of travel before they would veer west into the Tundrens towards Kiln’s location.
***
They were resting one night around a fire they had built alongside the main road to Annure. The topic of discussion was how they would find Kiln’s location.
“Actually finding Kiln’s compound will be another story,” explained Beorth to the others as he sat on a log by the fire to eat his stew. “I do not know its exact location since we only followed Kiln’s men part way there.” Beorth was one of the king’s scouts who had been the given the task of finding Kiln several years back. “We will have to do some scouting to find it.”
“Understood. Nogris and I can help with that. It shouldn’t take us too long to find it if you can place us in its proximity,” mumbled Jorm as he shoveled hot food into his mouth.
Jonas smiled inwardly as he looked at all the faces sitting around the fire. He liked these men and he appreciated their help in getting him to this mysterious Kiln. These were men of honor and courage and he was enjoying their company.
“I hope my father was right and that the letter that he gave me will be enough to convince Kiln to give Jonas shelter,” added the prince.
“If not, we’ll just have to convince him,” added Graggis with a smile, patting his axe blade.
Baylin laughed out loud at the confident warrior. “Graggis, we were all young when Kiln was general. In fact we were not even of age to join the apprenticeship. Have you not heard the stories about Kiln the warrior?” he asked.
“Some, but I only know of the legend. And he is just a man. Legends are just that, fables and exaggerations to make people feel safe. I am confident my axe would prevail,” said Graggis as he drained the last bit of his ale.
“No, he is not just a man,” Baylin said seriously. “He is the best swordsman in all the lands, maybe the best ever. My father told me many stories about him when I was younger. It is said that he is a warrior unmatched, even better than both Master Morgan and Master Borum.”
“I don’t believe it. I had heard stories about his bravery in battle but I had not heard that he was marked as an expert swordsman,” interjected Dagrinal.
“He is not marked. I remember asking my father when I was a boy why he was not wizard marked. He said that Kiln did not believe in advertising ones abilities to one’s enemies. He also thought it was just arrogance to get the mark.”
“That’s why Dagrinal wants to be marked. He wants to impress the wenches at Pygon’s Inn,” Graggis said, chuckling.
“Prince Baylin, how do you know he is better than Master Borum? I had thought that no one could beat our weapons master,” asked the young blond warrior, Piap.
“Master Borum told me many years ago, and so did my father.”
“He sounds like an interesting man. I am looking forward to meeting him,” said Dagrinal.
Jonas looked around at all the faces and noticed Sal eyeing him curiously.
Finally the young knight spoke up. “So, Jonas, do you think you are a cavalier?” Several of the warriors glanced at each other, obviously wondering the same thing.
“Sal, I told you that you were not to speak of it,” said the prince with authority.
“I’m sorry, my Prince, but we are all wondering what he is, what he can do, and since we volunteered to protect him, I think it fair that he explain himself to us,” Sal replied, losing some of his steam as the prince’s gaze hardened.
Prince Baylin addressed Sal, a calm authority lacing his words. “Fair? You are a Finarthian Knight, you follow orders! You do not have the right to question….”
“Sir, it’s okay,” interrupted Jonas.
The prince stopped abruptly, swinging his gaze to Jonas. The weight of that look caused Jonas to look away like a scolded child. He was not used to
being in the presence of great warriors, let alone royalty and an heir to a kingdom’s throne. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” was all Jonas could mutter.
“Son, let me tell you something. It is not Sal’s right to question me, or any of his commanders. Sal is young and ambitious, but not wise in these matters. The chain of command must be followed at all times. If I specifically told them not to question you, then I expect that order to be followed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Jonas said.
The prince turned his piercing blue eyes to Sal. “Do you understand, young knight?”
Sal dropped his gaze, looking at the ground. “Yes, sir, I apologize.”
“Good, but with that said, I happen to agree with you both. The king ordered me to tell you all not to question Jonas, that it was his business, and that what had happened to him was something that maybe he didn’t want to continue to bring to the surface. But he said nothing about Jonas freely giving information. I agree with you, Sal. You all have sworn an oath to protect this young man, and yet you know nothing about him and what happened to him other than the rumors. So, young Jonas, I will not order you to tell the story since my father has forbidden it, but if you are willing, then I think they are ready to listen. What do you say?”
“Yes, my Prince. I will tell them,” Jonas replied.
All the men stopped eating and looked at Jonas expectantly. He began his tale as he had in the past. He was getting good at telling the story and the words flowed easily from his vivid memories, memories that, Jonas was afraid, had been burned into his mind. He ended the long tale with the attack of the demon and how Graggis had saved them.
“I guess you’re good for something other than belching, eh Graggis,” added Dagrinal, chuckling at his own remark. The men laughed heartily at the joke.
“You might have been there earlier to help
if you hadn’t been so busy snoring,” said Graggis, throwing a small rock at Dagrinal.
“I was dreaming of your mother,” Dagrinal replied, smiling as he batted the pebble away.
Everyone laughed together and Jonas felt at home. The camaraderie of these men was contagious and it calmed Jonas’s turbulent thoughts.
“That is an amazing tale, Jonas,” said Gar, a quiet young warrior from Ta’Ron. “I am sorry for your losses.”
“Thank you, Gar,” added Jonas gratefully.
“Jonas, may we see the mark?” asked Sal.
Jonas shyly looked at the prince who nodded encouragement. He stood up slowly and took off his cloak, lifting his tunic and chain mail shirt over his head. He stood baring his chest in the cold night air. His muscled torso reflected the orange firelight and the God Mark could clearly be seen. The men moved closer, staring in awe at the beauty of the design. The silver edges of the mark glittered like diamonds.
“Jonas, have you looked at your chest lately?” asked the prince, eyeing him curiously.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“The mark seems to have grown since I saw it last, unless my eyes are playing tricks on me.”
Sure enough, the prince was right. Jonas saw that the mark had spread slightly over his shoulders and down his arms. It had almost completely covered his stomach and chest. The mark must have been expanding slowly as Jonas had not noticed it until the prince pointed it out. It was a piece of art to look at and even Jonas’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the symbol.
“It is amazing!” Sal exclaimed. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“It makes a wizard mark look like a child’s drawing,” added Dagrinal.
Self-conscious, Jonas put his tunic back on and sat down by the fire.
“Do you think you will become a cavalier?” asked Graggis.
“I don’t know. Shyann has a plan for me and I think the plan will unfold as she sees fit. I want nothing other than to be a warrior that fights against that which threatens us. I would like to be a cavalier, if that is my destiny.”
The Cavalier Page 20
