The High King: A Tale of Alus

by Wigboldy, Donald

  The High King

  A Tale of Alus

  By

  Donald L Wigboldy Jr

  Copyright 2011

  Other books by Donald L Wigboldy Jr

  Voran the Night Guardian

  Battle Mage: A Tale of Alus

  Battle Mage: A Tale of Alus

  The Emperor’s Shadow War

  Chapter 1- A Vision Given

  The clouds moved lazily through the hazy, gray sky over the wooden single story farmhouse. The scent of fresh rain filled the air intermingled with that of the earliest flowers of spring. There was still a feeling of winter’s chill lingering on the breeze living on the northernmost continent of Alus that northerners still felt to be a welcome warm up after the long winter. The late morning lay in quiet as Joseph Aramathea sat beneath the overhang of the roof in one of the wicker formed rockers waiting for the birth of his second child. He gazed across the northern hills towards where the far off mountains couldn’t quite be seen as his vision saw only the blue, hazy distance. The Dragon's Scar Mountains were the northernmost boundaries of the Marshallan Province and it had remained that way for centuries.

  Joseph glanced worriedly at the solid, wood door to their farmhouse home where the midwife had entered several hours ago. Marta had been in labor a long while, but he had heard only a few cries from within since the arrival of the midwife. The world around the small home seemed to have quieted in response as if it too awaited the birth of the child. The man fidgeted and brushed back his brown hair damp with a light sweat of worry. His firstborn son, Simon, played near their barn staying well away from the house. The blond haired boy, who favored his mother’s looks, was only a five and half year old and unsure about the thought of having to share his parents with another child. He remained cautiously out of the way awaiting news. Simon would sneak a glance at his father with his bright, blue eyes every so often to see if the event had taken place and as yet it still hadn't.

  Joseph smiled. If his second child brought him half as much happiness as his first..., the thought was interrupted by a cry from his wife from within the bedroom. He jumped to his feet and stood nervously before the door. If that wasn't the cry of delivery, the husband was unsure he could bear the cries much longer and he wasn't the one giving birth. His wife screamed again even more loudly. Joseph shivered and started pacing anxiously as he scrubbed at his face with a light beard from not shaving since the previous morning. The birth was definitely happening. She cried again and again, until finally a second voice was there to answer hers.

  He reached for the door and opened it. "How are my wife and child doing, Maris?" the man questioned the graying midwife who appeared suddenly before him. Joseph's vision strayed to the sight of his wife in the room beyond, where she lay in a bed of rumpled sheets and blankets panting heavily. Her brow glistened with sweat. It had been a very rough delivery.

  "Marta is tired, but fine, Joseph. Let her rest," the woman answered as she wrapped the babe in a clean blanket set aside for that very purpose.

  "And the child, Maris?" the man asked a little concerned by the half answer. The woman's face held a strange look. Joseph wasn't sure what it meant and waited with baited breath.

  "The child seems fine enough." Not convinced, the father ordered, "Let me see him. A boy you say? Surely we are blessed, Marta!" he said confidently to his wife who had turned, new lines of worry working into her brow. The husband knew that he had to try and comfort his wife in her weakened state.

  After a short pause, the midwife handed him his son. Joseph's vision was drawn immediately to the babe's pure white hair. He quickly drew back the blanket to inspect the rest of the child. "His hair?" the father asked but noted no other oddities, "Maris, have you ever known a baby to have such hair?"

  The woman slowly shook a head equally furrowed in concern. "No, Joseph, I have not," she replied trying to keep her voice from the weary mother’s hearing. Neither she nor the man wished to put undue stress on the woman who even now fell in and out of an exhausted sleep.

  "Is he albino? I have heard that a few of them have been born to the highlanders in recent decades. Could my son be one of those as well?"

  Once again the graying midwife shook her head. "I do not believe so, no. His eyes are a dark blue and his skin is a healthy shade of pink as all the healthy babies are. I'm not sure why his hair is so strangely colored. Perhaps it happened from some trauma during his time in the womb? I don't think we truly need to be alarmed," Maris finished though she seemed unwilling to believe it herself.

  "You `don't think'? Woman, I need better than that. Is my child well?"

  His conversation was halted as he heard Simon shouting to him from outside excitedly. Joseph stepped outside with the child still in his arms. "What is it, Simon?"

  "Father, we have strangers!"

  When Joseph spotted the cloaked figures approaching, his breath caught in his throat for the second time that afternoon. He handed his newborn son back to the midwife. Stepping through the doorway, the man pulled the door closed securely as he stepped onto the porch. Nervously, he went to meet the visitors.

  "Hail, Visionaries," the man greeted with nervous green eyes and a raised hand.

  The center figure wearing an ebony cloak replied, "Hail, Joseph Aramathea, the boy has been birthed has he not?"

  Shocked by the seer's knowledge, Joseph nodded mutely.

  The figures moved closer and then past the man. Upon opening the door, the ebony cloaked woman entered his home unhindered. The main room that served as their bedroom and main living area wasn’t large. He worried that they would be judged by their sparse furnishings even as Joseph stood outside anxiously shifting from one foot to the other waiting. Several minutes went by. Quiet voices spoke within and soon the cloaked figure returned carrying the babe gently in her arms.

  "Joseph, behold your son. I know of your fears for the child's health, but put them aside. This child's destiny lies so strong and great. He will have a longer life than you can imagine, but you need to be here to care for him and nourish his growth for he is still just a helpless babe. Remember as he tries and fails in his childhood that all men go through these trying times."

  From the brief silence, Joseph realized that they expected an answer, "Of course, Visionary. I will. If I am not being too bold in my asking, why has my child been birthed with such unusual hair? Is he an albino?"

  Though most of the woman's face was hidden in shadow, he could still make out the slight pull of a smile on the seer's face. "No, Joseph, he is no albino. In fact, his eyes will probably exceed yours in vision, unlike those of an albino, so you need not worry. The hair is but one sign of what he is. The boy is actually the first of several special children that will be born. Beyond these words I may not tell you the significance. Revealing too much of the future can cause other paths to form and I have revealed all that you will need to know. Now please reveal to us what you will name the child."

  Joseph paused a moment, "My wife and I were planning to name him Gerid, since he is a boy. We named him with the thoughts of the joy that he would bring to us, but perhaps a grander name should be chosen by you?"

  Once again he glimpsed that briefest of smiles. "It is your choice, Joseph. We only asked that we might sate our curiosity, since not all things can be seen. The name is fine. I am sure that he will bring you many joys as all children do. Name him as your heart tells you to do, though it is his first, it will also not be the last name applied to him."

  "Then Gerid it is. May I ask why he would choose to change that name?"

  "All I can say is that he will earn many names over time and probably choose some for himself as well. Some people need to be called other things at
certain times in their lives. Leave it to the mysteries of the future, Joseph."

  She handed Gerid back to his father. "Remember our charge to you. To care for the boy as best you can." The visionary turned to Simon. "Come here, child," she beckoned and the little boy approached tentatively. His big, blue eyes were wide and serious as he looked at the mysterious woman addressing him. The seer pointed to the baby. "See your brother? Love him and help him when he needs it. He needs you and will for years to come. As his elder brother, it is your duty to help guide and teach him. Protect him as does your father. Will you do that, child?"

  Simon nodded still in awe of the dark figures.

  The cloaked ones turned away and returned to the road from which they had come. "Your home is blessed indeed, Joseph Aramathea," the visionary declared as her group moved away.

  "Good journey, Visionaries," he responded with the ritual parting in relief.

  As the band of seers moved off, Joseph looked down at his son now named Gerid. Looking upon the sleeping child so innocent in repose, the man wondered what his child's legacy could be that had been important enough to bring visionaries from their far off tower. The baby’s father knew that he would protect his child as he had been charged. Joseph would have done that regardless since he was Gerid's father.

  Joseph turned away from the mysteries of the visionaries and entered the small house followed by a wide eyed Simon. He had much to discuss with his wife about the strange visit.

  Chapter 2- Barnyard Rules

  "Hey, did you want some help, little brother?" Simon called out loudly from the barn door entrance. He marveled at his brother Gerid's strength as the youth hefted a large bale of hay that would usually require two men to lift and carry it.

  Gerid bent his knees slightly before surging upward in a slight jump with his burden. The bale lofted several feet through the air to land upon the previously stacked bales that the younger sibling had been arranging that morning. "No thank you, Simon. I'm already finished."

  Looking at the large stack, Simon questioned, "You moved all those by yourself?"

  "Yes," Gerid answered smiling, "I think that I am still getting stronger every day. What do you think big brother?"

  Simon chuckled and shook his head

  incredulously. In the last two years since their father, Joseph, had passed away, he had come to be sole guardian of a youth whose strength was already several times greater than his. Simon had encouraged his physical abilities as well as trying his best to train Gerid's mind. He had managed to acquire a fair sized library of scrolls and books with the profits gleaned from their trade of wool and dairy products, and it had not been cheap what with the cost of the written word these days. Most men could not even boast to have one book in his home.

  "Come inside for lunch, boy, before you make us all look too bad. The servants and I just can't keep up with you, but at least you could try to hold back a little, you show off."

  "Sorry," the teenager grinned. Gerid followed his elder brother towards their home. The main building had expanded since the boys' births. It was nearly double the original farm house as first Joseph had built onto it and then Simon as their family continued to prosper and also to expand their flocks and need for servants. Their products were among the finest in the Marshalla province and Simon had had the vision to join a traders’ guild to help expand their markets and profits even further in recent years. The Aramatheas were steadily gaining respect from the entire North continent.

  Stepping from the main doorway, a young girl of thirteen shouted out to them, "About time you two showed up. Madria had lunch ready ten minutes ago. I thought that we'd need to start without you."

  "Sorry, Serra," the two males chimed together in singsong voices, before laughing at their little sister. The girl was the third and last of the children born to Marta and Joseph. The attempted birth of a fourth child two years after Serra had caused the death of their mother and brother. Simon often thought that his mother's death had taken something vital out of Joseph. Their father would probably have wasted away, if not for his desire to give his all providing for the family that he still possessed, which were the three children.

  This afternoon they were joined by several of their herdsmen at the dinner table and soon began to gorge themselves. Gerid could put away more than most men and loading the bales had given him an even bigger appetite. Being half a foot taller than Simon also gave him more room to put it in besides. The older sibling often told his brother called him a bottomless pit.

  Simon was being harassed by his little sister this day to marry one of the local girls in town, when one of his herdsmen came running up to the doorway. He stumbled gasping into the dining area, winded from running. "Master Simon," he said in a rush, "there's trouble outside!"

  Simon put both hands on the herdsman's shoulders to steady the man. "Take a deep breath, Thad, and tell me what's wrong. Is it wolves again?"

  The man took a deep breath as requested and shook his head briskly. "No, sir, it's a squad of soldiers. They're harassing the others near the barns. They're talking about stealing some of our animals."

  "What?" Gerid hollered angrily. "We can't let them get away with this. We'll fight them!" the young man declared as he ran to the weapon rack for his sword.

  Simon sighed, "Calm down, Gerid. It may just be a squad sent from King Merrick at Grimnal Keep. The guild pays a tithe to the lord during the year. Maybe it's just our time again. I think we'd still better go down there and settle the matter."

  Simon removed a rapier from the rack despite his words as a precaution and strapped it to his side. He was always prepared whether as a farmer or as a fighter. As civilized as Marshalla was there was still the occasional bandit from the north to be dealt with, and having a sword was the way to deal with them.

  They wound up arriving just in time. Roughly a dozen herdsmen had staves and pitchforks at the ready against eight burly swordsmen. "Hold on, everyone! Let's not do anything rash now," Simon shouted as he quickly moved to place himself between the two parties of men. "You are tax collectors sent from King Merrick then?" he asked of the swordsmen.

  "`at's right, boy," the eldest soldier who bore an insignia on his chest to differentiate himself from his companions replied condescendingly. "Now cough up da animals we want `fore I needs ta report ya to da lordship."

  "Only after I see your papers. You did bring the proper contracts, didn't you? The guild and I worked out the documents with King Merrick's deputies’ ages ago for the time of collection. Show them now so that I can be assured of your proper authorization, please," Simon held out his hand to the leader waiting patiently.

  "Don't be given me orders, boy," the leader growled leaving his message implied.

  Simon's face tightened with annoyance. The shepherds and his brother shifted their grips on their weapons and took a step closer threatening. "Don't threaten me, old man," Simon's voice went flat and picked up a harder edge. The coldness of the words seemed to tear at the air between them. "My men and I number more than a dozen, and if you don't have proper authorization, we will defend ourselves and my property. Your papers..., sir," the last word was forced through clenched teeth.

  They stood facing each other for several tense moments before the soldier moved to open the satchel tied to his waist. He grumbled rather loudly as he produced a set of papers, which he then presented to Simon.

  The head of the Aramatheas quickly glanced at the documents to ascertain their validity before nodding to the herdsmen. "Bring the animals." Three of the men moved at once to retrieve the particular animals that had been requested. The rest of the men stood glaring angrily at each other.

  When the animals had been brought out tethered to each other, Simon said, "There you are, sergeant, just like King Merrick requested. You see that I am quite willing to support the protector of our land and his soldiers. Let's try not to have any uncalled for incidents in the future from now on, please."

  The soldiers gave them all dirty l
ooks and several were grumbling to each other. Suddenly, Gerid's face darkened as he apparently caught something within earshot. Simon noticed the look too late.

  "How dare you, you cretin!" Gerid snarled stalking towards a pair of the soldiers who were preparing to mount up. "I won't tolerate your insults against my family. Someone should teach you some manners."

  One of the soldiers looked Gerid up and down disdainfully despite the young man's size. He spat at the ground in front of Gerid. His face turned purple with rage. "You think so?" the soldier asked looking down his nose. "You think that you're man enough, shepherd boy? Ya got a sword, but can ya use it?"

  The boy shifted his weight into a fighting stance. "My little sister could take you, you pig," he growled through clenched teeth.

  "That does it!" the soldier bellowed and lunged towards Gerid eagerly. The boy backed away slightly to gage the other man appraisingly.

  "Stop it this instant!" Simon cried out with alarm. "Gerid, lower your weapon. Now! This fight is

  unnecessary."

  "If the boy lays down `is weapon, I'll kill `im where he stands," the soldier snarled savagely as he tried to move into his opponent.

  "And I'll have your head for murder!" Simon shouted.

  "Not so, shepherd," the sergeant contradicted from atop his horse. "Da rules of duel are clear and dis is a duel. Your boy called `im out."

  Simon squirmed. The sergeant was right in this case. King Merrick had defined the laws of personal combat several years ago, but luckily he remembered one of the clauses. "Then I declare the winner as the first to draw blood. No killing is necessary."

  The sergeant grinned at his discomfort, but he nodded. "All right, Master Aramathea. First blood only, Garok, it wouldn't really settle anythin' ta kill `im anyway."

  "You're lucky, boy. Killin' a kid isn't my style anyway," Garok laughed haughtily.

  "Just fight, idiot," Gerid replied keeping his voice even and his stare steely. He lunged carefully at his opponent as his brother moved away racked with worry even still. The soldier parried his thrust easily and countered. Gerid's sword flashed quickly there and met the strike evenly.