Kulvar Rand looked about until he saw the sign for the local inn. “Dismount and tie up the horses. We will get food and water here.” He glanced over at two young men mounted beside him. Both wore the typical breaches, tunics, and cloaks of a traveler. They were not Dygon Guards, but servants they had brought with them to the fights. “Corben and Swil, please feed and the water the horses. Then come in and join us.”
“Yes sir,” they said in unison, dismounting and tending to the horses.
The men, following his lead, did as instructed. One warrior, tall and middle-aged, with jet black hair shaved short like all the rest of the men, walked over and stood beside Kulvar. There were no ranks among the Dygon Guard. All were equal, except for Kulvar Rand. He was their leader, chosen by the king, and everyone knew it, but even he held no formal title. All the men were allowed to speak freely, without worry or repercussion.
“Sir, are you sure about this?” His name was Kade and he was the best swordsman in the guard next to Kulvar Rand.
“I am. We are the king’s men required to uphold the law. That boy had served his sentence and was being held unlawfully.”
“I know. But we may find ourselves facing Tangar and his men. He will not let them go.”
They both finished tying their horses to the wood beams provided for just that. “That boy is tough,” Kulvar responded, “but he will need help. It is our job to provide that.”
“Even if it means fighting fifty Schulg warriors, one of them the son of a chief? King Enden may not be so happy if we break the truce we have with the nomads over one man…and a criminal at that.”
“He is no criminal. And don’t worry. If it comes to a fight, I have a way to avoid unnecessary deaths and still uphold the treaty.”
“How?”
“Blood Rite.”
“You will challenge Tangar?” Blood Rite was a system of justice that the Schulg adhered to above all other traditions. It was the ultimate competition of martial skill whereby one would challenge another to combat, the winner earning Blood Rite, allowing them to take ownership of the loser’s possessions, including wives, children, land, and weapons. Warriors did not challenge others lightly, since losing would mean one’s death as well as the loss of everything one owned, which would all go to the victor. Not to mention if you were to challenge someone you had to be of equal rank or skill, avoiding the one sided fights that would be prevalent if more skilled fighters were allowed to challenge anyone.
“If I must. Now let us eat and rest. I want to talk with the magistrate.”
Kade shook his head, not understanding his loyalty to a young man that he barely knew. But he said nothing else. The other men had already entered the inn when Kulvar and Kade pushed through the heavy door. The lunch crowd had not yet arrived but there were a few people about drinking ale and wine. Most of the patrons were already staring wide eyed at the ten Dygon Guards sitting at the tables beside the large stone fireplace where a roaring fire kept the cold at bay. The well-disciplined men were stoic in expression and posture, sitting and talking quietly amongst themselves. Kulvar walked over to the bar while Kade joined the men.
A pretty serving girl was stacking cups of water on a tray while a man behind the bar filled them with a big pitcher. His men would not drink, not while on a mission, although they knew very little about the mission, or why their leader had left the Schulg camp at daylight, racing west as fast as he could.
The girl smiled when she saw him. “Hello, sir. I’m bringing these waters to your comrades now. Would you like anything else?”
“Have they ordered food yet?”
“They have not.”
“Do you have anything warm that you could quickly procure for thirteen men?”
“We have a wonderful bean soup, and biscuits, with butter and condor berry jam.” Condor berries were a sweet black berry that grew along the stream beds. They were small and it required many of them to make anything, but they were juicy and sweet for their size.
“That would be perfect. I will cover the cost.”
“I will attend to it right away.” Then she left to deliver the waters.
The man behind the bar, finished with the task of filling the thirteen cups, greeted Kulvar Rand. “Good evening, sir. I’m Borgan and the proprietor of this establishment. Is there anything else I can do for you? It’s not often we get the Dygon Guard in town. Are you just passing through or looking to stay the night?”
“Well met, Borgan. I’m Kulvar Rand.” At the mention of his name Borgan’s eyes widened momentarily. Be he regained his composure quickly, cleared his throat and poured himself a mug of ale from a cask behind the bar. “We are moving through quickly. But I have a few questions that I was hoping you could answer.”
“Sure, I hope I can help. Would you like to share some ale with me? I hate to drink alone.”
Kulvar Rand smiled. “No, thank you. We are on business at the moment and we won’t be staying long.”
“Very well,” Borgan said, drinking deeply from his mug, hoping to calm his nerves a bit. He, well everyone for that matter, had heard many tales about the famous swordsman, but never thought he’d meet him in person. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Have you ever encountered a young man named Brant? He would have passed through town over a year ago.”
Borgan took another long drink of his ale, nearly choking on it. “Yes, sir. I remember him very well. I liked the lad. But he got into some serious trouble.”
“Such as?”
“He got in a fight, right here where you’re standing. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast or hit so hard. He killed the man with two punches.”
“Who started it?”
“Tage for sure. He was the magistrate’s son. True to form he was drunk, insulting Thea, my server, and getting obnoxiously rowdy. Brant ignored him pretty good until he grabbed Thea over there.” Borgan pointed to the pretty waitress now serving the warriors big bowls of soup with fresh biscuits slathered with butter and jam. “Tage slapped Brant in the face, and when he went to hit him again Brant side stepped the punch and hit him twice, knocking him over there,” he continued, pointing to the ground three paces away. “He was dead before he hit the floor.”
“Sounds like self-defense. What happened next?”
“He was arrested and found guilty. The magistrate stayed his execution since Thea and I spoke up for him. But he sentenced him to one year of slavery with the Schulg nomads. I’m sure he is dead by now.”
“You were there during the sentencing?”
“I was.”
“Good. And no, he is not dead. The day before last the Schulg tribes held a great event, a fight between two Ull Therm. Brant was one of them.”
Borgan was shaking his head in disbelief. “Morlock’s balls I knew that lad was tough. But Ull Therm, I cannot believe it.” The Schulg fights were well known, and even though very few Dy’ainians ever saw them, they had heard many stories told of the few warriors who actually reached the rank of Ull Therm. They were almost as famous as Kulvar Rand.
“I was there. Several nobles, including myself, were sent by the king to attend the event. I met Brant almost two years ago in one of the camps and I recognized him immediately. We are trying to find him now. I assume he has not been here?”
“He has not.”
“Did he ever mention anyone nearby that he knew?”
By this time Thea had made her way back to the bar. “Borgan, can I get four red ales.”
“Sure. Thea, I would like you to meet Kulvar Rand.”
Thea looked at Kulvar, her eyes wide in disbelief. Then she smiled at the Dygon Guard. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen.”
Kulvar smiled and Borgan cleared his throat. “I’m speaking the truth, girl, this is Kulvar Rand.”
Thea, her smile disappearing, looked back at Kulvar, her cheeks turning red. “Really?”
Kulvar nodded his head.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I…”
Kulvar put his
hand up, smiling the entire time. “It’s okay. Borgan said that you met a young man over a year ago named Brant. Do you remember if he ever mentioned a friend, or family, someone living nearby that he might visit if he were in trouble.”
“Brant is alive?” She asked, clearly shocked.
“He is…as far as I know anyway. But we need to find him.”
Thea thought for a moment. “I don’t recall him saying anything about anyone. He was just passing through looking for work.” Then she paused, thinking back. She looked over at Borgan. “You remember at the trial when the magistrate asked Brant if there was anyone who could vouch for him?”
Borgan thought back to over a year ago. “Yes, that’s right. He mentioned a man that lived near Bygon.”
“You remember his name?” Kulvar asked.
“I’m sorry, I do not,” Borgan said.
“I think it started with a K, but his name is eluding me,” Thea added.
“Bygon is a day’s ride,” Kulvar said, thinking out loud.
“If you leave now and ride hard you may get there before dark. Go to the inn and look for Anders. If anyone in town can help its him.”
Kulvar thought it over. He and his men had ridden hard the previous day, but they were now rested and would soon have full stomachs. The horses were likely tired, but he knew they still had another hard ride in them yet. He also knew that Tangar and his warriors would not rest until they found Brant. He wouldn’t have a chance if Tangar found him first. He would have to postpone seeing the magistrate for another day. He needed to find Brant.
“We will rest a bit longer before we leave. Any chance you have any cold rations we could purchase from you? And we would be grateful if we could refill our water skins.”
“Of course. We have some cured ham and day old bread. Will that work?” Borgan asked.
“It would. Prepare it and tally the cost. We will be departing soon.”
“I will take care of it right away,” Borgan replied.
“Thank you for your help,” Kulvar said as he turned to leave.
“Sir,” Thea said, causing him to turn around. “I hope you find him. I liked him. He was a good man.”
Kulvar gave her a reassuring nod. “I will do my best.”
***
Brant was stumbling now, his legs nearly giving out on him. He had been running for a day and a half and his injured legs were barely plodding along. There was no more food but luckily plenty of water available from the stream he was following.
Suddenly he came to a clearing and he felt a surge of hope as he recognized the land. He could see that the area showed signs of work. There were a handful of tree stumps, the wood clearly cut with an axe. He had been there before. In fact he had chopped down several of the trees himself, limbing and cutting the logs into smaller sections. He knew from experience that he was not far from Kaan’s cabin and that he could make it there before dark. Picking up his pace, he followed the cart trail, new energy, built on hope, bringing life to his tired limbs.
His mind was in a daze when he finally walked into the clearing that housed the cabin and barn. Brant was no longer thinking clearly, but it was obvious that it was evening, so it was no surprise to see light emanating from the windows and smoke spiraling into the air from the rock chimney. Jana was probably preparing supper. Stumbling forward he leaned his weight against the side of the house, using his fist to pound on the door. He registered a quiet commotion inside, hearing hushed conversation and nervous commands from Kaan.
“Who is it?!” Kaan shouted from inside.
“Brant,” he whispered, too tired to yell.
“Who?” This time his voice was less guarded, as if he had heard him but couldn’t believe it.
Brant took a deep breath. “Brant!” Suddenly the door was open and Brant nearly fell forward, catching himself on the door frame. Kaan was looking at him with wide eyes, his crossbow held at his side. Brant smiled feebly. “Good to see you,” he whispered.
Kaan grabbed him and helped him inside, moving him to a chair. “Jana, get some cold water. Tobias, get some water boiling.” His children, seeing his concern and the shape Brant was in, silently went to work. “In Goth’s name, what happened to you?”
Brant could barely sit up straight. “It’s a long story that will have to wait. Can I have some food and water first? I feel as though I might pass out.”
Jana was already bringing him water and a bowl of bean soup with bread and several slices of cured ham. “Here Brant,” she said. “I will cut you some apple as well.”
“Thank you,” he said, almost inhaling the food.
“What happened to your legs? They look a mess.”
“Nyg attack,” he muttered through mouthfuls of soup.
Kaan had heard of the reclusive hounds, but had never seen one. They were rare and very dangerous. “What!? And you lived?”
“I had poisoned it. Kaan, it’s a long story and I cannot stay long. My presence here is putting your family in danger. I just need to rest a bit, eat, and clean my wounds.”
Jana came back and gave Brant a cup of water and some apple slices. He ate them quickly, washing them down with the cold water.
“Danger from whom?”
“The Schulg.”
“They are coming here!?”
“I do not know. I was made the slave of the chief’s son and forced to fight in the pit. I escaped and I’m sure they are after me.”
“When did you escape?”
“The night before last.”
“You’ve been running the entire time?”
“Yes. Do you have any clean bandages? Alcohol? Or something I can clean the wounds with?”
“Of course. Tobias, how is the water coming?”
“It’s close,” the boy called out from the kitchen.
“Get what’s left of the roll of cotton and cut it into strips. And grab that healing salve,” he ordered, turning back to Brant. “You’re in luck. After the kulg attack I promised myself that I would have good healing supplies on hand. I used the few coins I had left to purchase this salve in town. It’s supposed to be a Schulg remedy for infections.”
“Thank you,” Brant said weakly, enjoying the irony of that. He wiped his soup bowl clean with his last slice of bread. “Do you have a knife? I want to cut these bandages off.” The strips of cloth tied around Brant’s leg were nearly black from dirt and blood. Dry and encrusted, the knots were nearly impossible to untie. It would be easier to cut them away.
“Jana, get us your sheers.”
Several moments later Jana was kneeling at Brant’s side. “Let me do it,” she said. Slowly and gently she cut the fabric away on both legs, revealing long gashes, puffy and inflamed. They looked worse than he had imagined.
“They don’t look so good. We need to clean them and rub that salve deep into them. It’s going to hurt.”
“Do it.”
“The water is boiling, Father,” Tobias shouted from the kitchen as he cut the cotton fabric into strips.
“Good, pour it into a bowl and bring it here. We will need some clean cloth as well as the strips,” Kaan said.
Tobias carried over the bowl of hot water and the cotton strips, then went back to get the salve. Kaan grabbed a cotton towel, dipped it into the hot water, and proceeded to clean both legs. Brant cringed, and the cloth was soon saturated in fresh blood as his open wounds began bleeding again. But gradually the cuts were cleaned of the remaining dirt and dried blood, exposing the red and swollen flesh. Kaan sniffed the wounds, crinkling his nose at the subtle odor of infection.
“Well?” Brant asked, already knowing the answer.
“It’s not bad yet, but they are infected. We need to apply the salve. It’s going to hurt bad,” Kaan repeated, looking to Brant to make sure he was ready.
Brant gripped the edges of the chair. “Let’s get it over with.”
Kaan grabbed the jar of salve, and looked at Brant. “Here we go.” Brant said nothing, nodding his head for hi
m to do it. Kaan smeared a large amount of the thick greenish paste onto his hand and went to work, smearing the gooey substance over and into the wounds, so the healing salve could penetrate them, causing fresh blood to again drip from the cuts. But the salve also acted as a coagulant, mixing with the blood and forming a dark paste that oozed out of the lacerations. Throughout the process Brant cringed, stiffening from the pain, but said nothing. Kaan continued to work, applying the salve to all the cuts on both legs. After a few minutes he was done.
Finally Brant spoke. “That hurt.”
“I bet. Let me see your arm. Then I will wrap your legs in the clean cotton.”
“Very well,” Brant said, lifting his left arm before him. Kaan cleaned the puncture holes, using the last of the salve to massage into the wounds. Then he grabbed the fresh cotton strips and wrapped up his arm and both legs. After a few moments he was done.
“Let’s hope that medicine works,” he muttered, standing up and looking satisfied with his work.
“Thank you, Kaan. Can I ask one more favor before I leave?”
“Leave!?” Jana said. “You are in no condition to leave.”
“She is right,” Kaan added.
Brant was shaking his head. “I must. You are in danger.”
“I was in danger before. And if I recall correctly, you saved our lives. You cannot walk far in your condition,” Kaan added.
“You cannot leave,” Tobias said, inserting himself in the conversation.
Brant smiled, but shook his head. “Believe it or not, I’ve been through worse. I will be fine. But I will need food and water for the road. Do you have any to spare?”
“Of course, but you are not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry, Kaan. But you cannot stop me. I will not put your children in danger,” he said, his tone firm. Brant stood up but gave no indication that his wounds were causing him pain. “I could use a weapon if you have anything to spare.”
Kaan saw that he would not be able to persuade him to stay. “I have my crossbow and my long knife. I’m sorry I have not had the coin to replace my swords.”
“Can I use the knife? I promise to repay you.”
The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall Page 27
