The Tear of Gramal

by Phillip Jones

  The Frigid Commander looked at Shiver. “Ahhh … that’s a wonderful story, My King. If only one man in your army was as mighty, what a fine army you’d command. Perhaps after you complete your studies, you would allow me to show you some of Klidess’ movements with a blade.”

  Shiver smiled and then looked up at his advisor. “Would this be acceptable, Lord Shamand?”

  Shamand grinned and motioned for Shiver to come close. He rummaged his powerful, weathered hand through the child-king’s hair. “Of course you may train. You have your father’s spirit.”

  Darosen cringed at the sound of Shiver being referred to as Thoomar’s son, but he said nothing of his irritation. “You will make a fine warrior, Your Grace.”

  “Agreed. May Helmep be praised,” Shamand added. “But remember ... you may train with Darosen only after your studies are complete.”

  The Frigid Commander cleared his throat. “Lord Shamand, there are matters that we must discuss. Perhaps our sovereign’s studies would be best accomplished from the back of your harugen until our meeting is complete.”

  Concern appeared on Shamand’s face. “Does this pertain to my daughter, Commander? If so … I see no reason why the king should not be present.”

  Darosen reached out and placed his left hand on Shamand’s left shoulder. “My Liege, I only ask you trust my judgment.”

  Shamand paused a moment before turning to Shiver. “Boy, you heard the commander. See that your backside returns to the saddle. Go.” Again, Shamand redirected the conversation. “Doejess, see that the king is fed.”

  Shiver grabbed a large, leather-bound book out of Shamand’s bag and backed up to get a running start toward his harugen. Shamand waited for the child-king to settle into the saddle and begin reading aloud before he put his arm across Darosen’s shoulders to allow the commander to lead him away from the harugens.

  “Commander, what is it? Does this matter pertain to my daughter?”

  Darosen looked toward the cave. The officers with whom he had dined the night before were standing outside the entrance waiting for his signal. He sighed.

  “What is it, Commander?” Shamand questioned again, sensing the commander’s anxiety. Though he could not see the stress on Darosen’s face, the tension in the commander’s shoulders was speaking for him. “Your mind troubles you, doesn’t it? Your silence begs to tell a story.” Shamand used his powerful hand to rub out the tension in the commander’s neck. “Speak to me. You have my ear.”

  Darosen stepped out of Shamand’s grip and walked a few steps toward the cave. Pulling at the top of his hood, he signaled his men and then turned back toward Shamand as they disappeared inside the cave.

  Shamand only waited a short series of moments before he commanded, “Darosen … return to me. Why are you so troubled?”

  Darosen did as instructed. He took hold of the back of Shamand’s arm. “Walk with me, My Liege.” Shamand could feel the hesitation in Darosen’s gait as the commander sought isolation. They would take 41 paces before the commander would speak again. “The way before us remains flat for as far as my eyes can see. There are no obstacles to betray your footing.”

  Shamand walked for another 30 paces before he stopped them both from venturing further. “Darosen, enough. Clearly, you’re not yourself. Trust an old man, and speak your mind.”

  The Frigid Commander took a deep breath. “I fear that I’ve failed you, My Lord. Blandina is waiting inside the cave. She has had you summoned to a trap. She desires to end your life’s source.”

  Shamand’s expression did not change as he remained silent and motioned for the commander to continue.

  “The men believe their king has ordered your demise.” The Frigid Commander fondled the handle of his sword as he chose his next words. “If it was not for our bond, I would not be telling you now, but I cannot betray you in good conscience. What are your orders, My Liege?”

  Shamand remained silent while he thought through the seriousness of the situation. Eventually he cleared his throat. “Do nothing other than return to my harugen. Keep watch over the king, and … well … watch Doejess, if you must.”

  Shamand’s candor turned serious. “Are there others assisting Blandina? If so, how many have been commanded to spring the trap?”

  “Four men, My Liege—Shefrome, Severen, Ograss, and Polomayne. They follow orders only.”

  Shamand chuckled. “That shanavel certainly understands the strategies of a trap, does she not?”

  “Indeed,” the commander responded. “I was to tell you that your daughter lies wounded inside, but I cannot fulfill this deception. Though my agendas are not your own, I cannot allow your betrayal. I regret that my decisions over the last 17 seasons have led us to a place where you stand in harm’s way.”

  “Why participate in this ruse, Commander?” Shamand patiently questioned.

  Darosen bit his bottom lip and then confessed, “Shiver is of my loins. I am also Tormal. Shiver is not a king.”

  Shamand’s brow furrowed. “Why tell me this now? You’ve always had my trust.”

  The commander looked toward the clouds as if he was too embarrassed to look at Shamand. “I only want to be a father to my son, not destroy a kingdom of innocents in the process.”

  Another long silence filled their moments. Eventually, Shamand chuckled. “Somehow … I knew the boy wasn’t Thoomar’s.”

  Darosen pulled his eyes away from the sky and found Shamand’s. “How could you have known, My Liege?”

  “When Shiver was born, I felt the child favored neither his mother nor his father. As he grew, this never changed. Eventually, my eyes failed me further, and by his tenth season, I was no longer able to clearly witness the changes to his face.”

  Shamand stepped forward, placed a hand on each of Darosen’s shoulders and then squeezed. “Blandina’s treachery runs deep into the heart of this kingdom. Please don’t fret over where your choices have led us. Most men succumb to the will of a seasoned seductress.”

  The commander’s eyes dropped. “I fear the wonder between her legs has been my weakness. What will you do with me?”

  Shamand took a step back and extended his hand. “Give me your blade, Commander. I shall determine your fate upon my return. For now, shall we see if a blind man can dispose of four men and the shanavel they protect?”

  The commander unsheathed his long sword and extended the weapon, lowering the handle into Shamand’s palm. “May Helmep be with you, My Liege. The men are scattered throughout the cave, and you will only need to face one man before you reach Blandina. This man is also Tormal.”

  Shamand twirled the blade in his hand. “Tormal?”

  “Yes. He is Tormal, though he doesn’t know I am also Tormal.”

  “How is this possible? Are you saying he’s unaware of your lineage?”

  The Frigid Commander smiled. “Yes, but ‘how’ is a conversation that would encompass many of our moments. I pray to Helmep that your blade will free me from the burdens of my choices. All I wanted was to be a good father.”

  Shamand extended his free arm. “Care to guide a blind man to a fight, Commander? It appears that I fight an unexpected enemy on this Peak.”

  A large smile appeared on Darosen’s face as he grabbed hold of Shamand’s forearm to shake it before leading him to the cave. “You have nerve that matches the gashtion’s, My Liege.”

  Upon entering the cave, the Frigid Commander whispered, “The tunnel branches in three directions. Each branch will return to the main vein. Blandina hides in waiting just beyond where they merge. Shefrome is the Tormalian who will stand between you and victory.”

  Shamand nodded. “And the others?”

  Darosen reached down and unsheathed a knife that he had tied to his right thigh. “I cannot allow you to hunt alone. I’ll dispose of them myself.”

  Shamand placed his left hand on Darosen’s chest. “There’s no need to end their life’s sources, Commander. Show mercy. Send the men home to their families.”


  “What of Shefrome?” Darosen questioned.

  Shamand spun the long sword in his right hand. “I’ll ensure that he sees the value of his departure. Don’t fret. This blind man can still see in other ways.”

  The Frigid Commander placed a hand on Shamand’s shoulders and turned him in the right direction. “The width of the cave at its narrowest point is 10 paces. Use your blade to determine the location of the walls. The room where Blandina hides is 313 paces from where we stand. She waits in the first room on the right after the tunnels merge.”

  Shamand nodded. “What are the dimensions of the room? Does it remain open or confined with obstacles?”

  The Frigid Commander thought a moment. “From the entrance, the width of the room is 20 paces to either side, and its depth is just over 51. All obstacles sit against the left wall. They consume four paces. Beyond that, the room remains open with smaller objects scattered throughout. If you were to keep your feet low to the floor, these obstacles could be kicked aside with ease.”

  Again, Shamand nodded and motioned for Darosen to come close. “Thank you.”

  The commander did as instructed, placing his forehead against Shamand’s. “You treated me like a father while I was under your command. I deeply regret that I’m not Isor. The deceptions my heritage have required of me are inexcusable. You, Shamand…” Darosen patted the advisor on the sides of both arms and then squeezed “You’re a great man. You deserved better from me.”

  Shamand reached up and grabbed the back of the commander’s neck with his left hand. “You only wanted to serve your kingdom. I can respect that. I also cannot find fault in a father who wishes to do what is right by his son. Every father must make impossible choices. You’re forgiven, Darosen.”

  Though Shamand was unable to see it, Darosen smiled as he backed away. “May Helmep be with you, My Liege.”

  Without responding, Shamand entered the tunnel. The placement of each footstep was calculated. He controlled the pysples on the bottom of his feet and lowered them to the surface without making a sound. One hundred thirty paces and two bends in the cave would pass before he stopped.

  Shamand stood still, his breathing quiet. After a short series of moments, he spoke. “Shefrome, your heartbeat gives away your location. I can smell the scent of your fear.”

  Directly to Shamand’s right, Shefrome stood with the blade of his short sword lifted above his head. Shefrome wanted to respond, but to do so would truly give away his location. Over the next five heartbeats, he took in a slow breath and held it to soothe his anxiety. Lifting his right foot, he allowed his body to fall forward and brought down his blade in the direction of Shamand’s head.

  Sensing Shefrome’s movement, Shamand grinned as he spun to defend. The weapons seared against one another as Shamand continued to spin out of the block and into the offensive. The advisor used the backside of his foot in a sweeping motion to knock Shefrome’s legs out from under him. Hearing Shefrome land with a thud, the Tormalian’s blade clanked against the cave floor. Shamand used the noise to calculate the placement of where his enemy’s arm would be. A split moment later, Shefrome’s blade laid useless after his right hand was severed above the wrist.

  Ignoring the warrior’s scream, Shamand kicked away the appendage that was still grasping the blade. Before Shefrome could move, Shamand mounted him with his long sword pressed against Shefrome’s neck. “Be still!”

  “Please, Great One! Spare my life’s source!” Shefrome begged.

  Shamand pressed his blade a little harder against the Tormalian’s throat. “Begging doesn’t become you, Shefrome.”

  “Then what would you have me do?”

  Shamand pulled back his blade and stood. He turned and walked in the direction of where he kicked his attacker’s severed hand. Prying the blade out of its rigid fingers, Shamand tossed the weapon onto the floor next to Shefrome. “I will offer you a choice. You may stay and fight, or you may flee and return to Gesper.”

  Though Shamand could not see the look on Shefrome’s face, he enjoyed the warrior’s surprise as he listened to the break in the Tormalian’s breathing.

  “Yes … I know you’re Tormal. Choose your fate.”

  Shefrome moaned as he crawled up the wall of the cave and into a standing position. Groaning, he pushed clear of the rock so he could remove his belt from his waist. The leather straps covering his manhood fell to the floor as the belt pulled free of the loops that kept them in place. He cringed as he tightened the belt around the stub of his right arm to stem the flow of blood.

  “I said, choose your fate,” Shamand demanded.

  Shefrome bent over and grabbed his sword. He pointed the blade in Shamand’s direction. Upon seeing a large grin appear on Shamand’s face, he allowed the blade to fall back to his side. “I choose Gesper.”

  “A wise choice, Tormalian. Perhaps your people are wiser than I’ve given them credit for over my seasons. Leave your blade on the floor and abandon your post. Upon exiting the cave, speak with Doejess. He’ll see to it that you’re covered and that your wound is sealed.”

  Shefrome looked down at his nakedness and then back at Shamand. “How did you…?”

  Shamand frowned. “Just go!”

  The advisor listened as Shefrome made his way past him toward the mouth of the cave. Once satisfied the Tormalian was no longer a threat, Shamand worked his way beyond where the caves merged and found the door that led into the room where Blandina was said to be hiding. He rubbed his hand across its wooden surface until he found an iron ring that served as a doorknob.

  Before pulling the door open, Shamand thought back to what Darosen had said. “From the entrance, the width of the room is 20 paces to either side, and its depth is just over 51. All obstacles sit against the left wall. They consume four paces. Beyond that, the room remains open with smaller objects scattered throughout. If you were to keep your feet low to the floor, these obstacles could be kicked aside with ease.”

  Pulling on the ring, the hinges of the door squealed as if the weight of the wood burdened them. Shamand quickly lifted his sword and pointed its tip in the direction of the opening. He listened. Ten controlled breaths passed before he felt confident enough to step inside.

  Every movement he made was silent and calculated as Shamand’s feet passed above the smooth floor. He kept his feet turned inward to avoid stubbing his toes against one of the smaller objects.

  At the back of the room, sitting in the far left corner, Blandina waited on an old crate the Tormal had left behind. Well lit, the rectangular room had six orbs secured to the rock walls. To her right, another crate sat with a pile of eight plates sitting atop it. With her feet crossed beneath her yellow shawl, she quietly removed four pieces of pottery from the top of the stack. As Shamand worked his way toward the center of the room while kicking various sized relics to the side, her excitement grew.

  With a sinister smile, Blandina tossed the first plate, angling it toward the far side of the room. The piece of pottery landed not more than five paces to the right of Shamand. Blandina grinned as she watched the blind man react. With lightning reflexes, Shamand took a quarter turn to face the noise, lifted his sword and took a defensive stance.

  Before the advisor could gather his wits, Blandina tossed another plate. During this series of moments, the plate passed over the top of Shamand’s head and shattered 10 paces directly to his right. Again, the advisor reacted, taking another quarter turn and remained ready to defend.

  An instant later, a third plate landed behind Shamand. Blandina had to cover her mouth to muffle her laughter as Shamand spun with an arching blade intended to kill.

  Once her laughter settled, Blandina pitched the fourth plate. As the plate flew across the room, she sneered, “You fool.” The plate shattered to Shamand’s left as her last word was completed.

  The advisor did not react to the noise the pottery made. Instead, he reached down to the inside of his right ankle. With one swift movement, he pulled a small knife
and threw the dagger in the direction of Blandina’s voice.

  Blandina was forced to abandon her crate. She rolled forward onto the floor near the back wall as the point of the projectile penetrated the air her head had occupied. The butt end of the weapon slammed into the rock and fell behind the crate.

  Blandina exited her roll and grabbed a heavy, wooden pitcher by its handle and slung it at Shamand. The bottom of the vessel struck the advisor on the bridge of his nose, re-injuring the wound he had suffered while saving Clandestiny’s mother so many seasons ago.

  Stumbling to catch his balance, Shamand lowered his long sword to his side and grabbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Blandina seized the advantage of the advisor’s weakness. She sprinted toward Shamand, carefully placing her feet to avoid making a noise. As she ran through the debris, she reached beneath her shawl and pulled a knife of her own. Seeing the left side of Shamand’s neck was exposed, she lifted the blade and started its descent.

  Sensing the threat, Shamand reached up with his free arm and snatched Blandina by her wrist. He dropped his sword to the floor, grabbed Blandina by the front of her neck, and with one fluid motion, began pushing her backward. As he shoved, he squeezed her wrist until she dropped her knife. Shamand did not stop pushing until the flat of Blandina’s back collided with the wall opposite the door.

  Shamand’s hand tightened around Blandina’s neck as he lifted the Tormalian while keeping her weight pressed against the rock. The blood running from his nose sprayed onto Blandina’s face as he shouted. “I have often dreamed of choking you! You didn’t deserve Thoomar!”

  With her eyes blinking to clear away her attacker’s blood, Blandina tried to respond, but Shamand’s grip was too tight. The air she needed to speak was unable to pass through his grip.

  “I shall enjoy ending your life’s source,” Shamand continued, but during this series of moments, his speech was calculated and calm. “But your soul may rest easy. Your son shall become a great man under my tutelage. I won’t destroy Thoomar’s dream.”