Tales Of Nevaeh: The Trilogy and Backstory of the Epic Sci-Fi Fantasy Series Tales Of Nevaeh: (The 4 Book Bundled Box Set)

by David Wind

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  Part II

  The Early Years

  Tales Of Nevaeh

  Chapter 4

  The Early Years

  5248-5250 AD

  Roth’s first awareness was of a man with a deep voice droning on about exiling whoever this strange Free-Blade was. Roth remained silent, his eyes closed while he listened to the conversation.

  Carefully opening his eyes enough to see, he found a bear of a man pacing at the foot of the bed he was laying on. The man was huge, his skin ebony, his long straight black hair laced with strands of gray. Standing on each side was the woman he had spoken to and the man who had attacked him.

  “Give me one reason I should not exile him!” the large man asked. Comprehension dawned quickly as Roth realized the speaker was the king of Brumwall.

  “Exiling him will be a mistake,” the woman said.

  The king spun to look at her. “Why is that, Daughter?”

  She turned to the young man. “I sensed no malice in him, there was no intent to harm. Tell him, Darb.”

  The young man shuffled uncomfortably for a moment and then nodded. “Father, this man, with my knife at his throat, disarmed me and used my own knife on me in less than a deep-drawn breath. He could have ended my life…he did not. I believe you want to count him as one with Brumwall, certainly not against.”

  “Yet he attacked the Prince of Brumwall.”

  “No,” Roth said, realizing with the Prince’s defense, he must say something, “I but defended myself, your Highness.”

  “Ah, he wakes. Who are you?”

  “My name is Roth, Highness. I lead a small company of Free-Blades who have responded to your call.”

  “You are the one who stays at the inn?”

  “I am.”

  “You come for employment but insulted my daughter?”

  Roth held back for an instant, as he studied the king. The man’s pale blue eyes had a depth, which showed much intelligence. “My Lord, if it be insult to say now that I have seen her, I would look at no other woman, then I should be exiled, for I have no place in this dominion. On the other hand, the loss of my fighting knowledge to Brumwall would not be in your best interest.”

  “Ah, a braggart are you? Has your audacity no bounds?”

  “My Lord,” Roth replied, respectfully, “it is not audacity, merely truth.”

  The king started to speak, but another cut in. Unseen and behind him, a woman stepped forward. She walked to the bed and stared into Roth’s eyes for several long seconds. When she was done, she turned to the king. “My Lord, there are reasons to not exile this man.”

  “Now my wife takes this…this Free-Blade’s part?”

  “Your wife takes only your interest to heart. This man speaks the truth, and should you exile him, you exile your daughter as well.”

  “What mean you?” Ecorah asked, his puzzled features matching the tone of his words.

  “Enaid,” the Queen turned to her daughter.

  “I know him not, as yet, but what I do know, and what I have seen, is this man and I will share our lives together.”

  “He is not of royal blood.”

  Enaid stared at her father. “Is this something you have just decided upon? Royal blood? When has that been the law? We both know his blood has no bearing. Besides, since you have your son Darb, who will marry and leave an heir, I am not needed for such purpose, so I am free to choose.”

  Roth, listening and watching, was fascinated with the strangely redirected talk, which felt more like being inside of a hallucination and everything happening was only in his mind. But, when he looked at the beautiful woman who had landed him in this weird melodrama, he knew better.

  Ecorah looked at his wife and then his daughter. He ran a large hand through his hair. “Am I in the middle of a jest?” He pointed a long finger at Enaid. “Nothing in Brumwall happens without my approval.” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Roth. “For what my daughter has so…has spoken of, we will see. Tell me your story, Free-Blade, now!”

  Roth, chasing the fogginess in his head aside, carefully chose his next words. He looked at the woman called Enaid, and then at the king, “You will think me insane, or worse yet, addle-brained. No living soul of Nevaeh has ever heard the words I speak next. Yet, what I am about to say will be the truth.”

  Ecorah snorted. “We shall see.”

  Roth began with a sketchy outline of the terrorist wars of the twenty-first and twenty-second centuries, and even as he watched their faces shift from astonishment to disbelief, he kept speaking. At the same time, he was more than aware that of all the faces, the princess’s alone did not reflect disbelief.

  He spoke slowly, weaving the tale carefully as he told them of the ship that had taken him into space, and what happened throughout the centuries. He spoke of his return to earth, and finally his arrival in Apolis.

  When he finished, King Ecorah shook his head and let out a deep rumbling laugh. “It would not shame me to admit you are a truly gifted teller of tales, Solomon Roth; you drew me into this tale with the strength of your imagination. I admit your story telling ability is exciting, but you take us for fools to think we would believe such. Look at your skin, it is not white as you claim. How can anything else be truth?”

  Roth’s skin was a deeply tanned light bronze. He had made sure to keep it that way by going shirtless as often as possible since his arrival: only his upper torso was darken enough to appear normal in Nevaeh, where the distinction of separate races had long since died out.

  Roth smiled and stood, lowered one side of his leather pants, and exposed an untanned pale hip. When he pulled the leather up and sat again, he said, “Your Highness, do I expect you to believe me? Of course I don’t, even though I have just given you proof. Do I expect your queen and your daughter to believe me? Absolutely!”

  Frowning, Ecorah’s eyes locked on his wife. He spoke not; rather, he lifted a single bushy eyebrow in silent command.

  When Queen Enna stepped forward, and even though his knowledge of the women of Nevaeh had grown deep since he’d landed, Roth experienced a moment of doubt. He quickly cast aside the uncertainty before the Queen’s hands settled on Roth’s temples. She closed her eyes for several seconds, opening them only after releasing her hold on him. Then she turned to her daughter. “Enaid.”

  The princess repeated the process. However, this time it was different for Roth; the heat from Enaid’s hands spread through him like wildfire. The instant the searing heat erupted, Enaid gasped and her eyes flew open. Her grey eyes glazed over, but she did not release him. Finally, a half minute later, her eyes cleared, she dropped her hands, and her fingers slid along his cheeks before drawing away.

  She turned to her mother, not her father. “I…”

  Enna reached across the space and drew her daughter into her arms. Then, they both turned to Ecorah. “I possess not the words to explain, nor do I possibly understand how his tale can be real, but he speaks truthfully. There is no deception in this man.”

  Ecorah studied his wife, then looked at his daughter. “And how feel you?”

  “He speaks truthfully,” she whispered, still effected by the contact between them and unable to bring any real volume to her voice.

  The king studied the women. Both were among the most powerful sorceresses in Nevaeh, and he had no choice but to accept their judgement. “There is much to ponder here. How could such a thing be allowed to happen?” Disbelief still etched his features

  Before Roth could speak, Ecorah continued, “I… No one is to speak of this, ever! No one can know, for if the people do learn of it, they will believe he is from the darkness, that it is black magic. And you!” he snapped, turning to Roth and fixing him with a riveting stare. “You will at some point, tell me exactly what happened, why it happened! The sketchy knowledge you gave sits poorly on my shoulders.”

  Ecorah took a deep breath. With his exhalation, his face relaxed. “Answer me one further question. Why make
yourself so visible? Why did you and your men stay at an inn rather than with the other Free-Blades?”

  Roth studied the king and decided only the truth would suffice. “To call attention, to be noticed. I wanted to be chosen for Brumwall.”

  Ecorah snorted. “Well, noticed you are. Yet such is meaningless. When we finish here, you will join your men at the training grounds. We will select the Free-Blades shortly. Be prepared. Just because you claim to be from…elsewhere gives you no advantage in what is to come.”

  “I seek none, nor would I ask.”

  “We shall see.” Turning, Ecorah walked out of the holding room, followed by Prince Darb and Queen Enna. Enaid stayed where she was.

  “You are an unusual man, Solomon Roth.” She moved closer to him. “Strange. I could not read you, yet to me, it is evident you spoke the truth. You will tell me more about from where you came?”

  Roth could not help staring at her any more than he’d been able to stop himself from speaking to her in the streets. He raised his right hand and cupped her cheek. A spark snapped into his palm. “Whatever you want to know.”

  She smiled. “Yes, you will.” she said, covering his hand with hers. “Our feelings mean nothing, Solomon Roth, should you fail today.”

  Roth, wisely, held his tongue.

  Drawing his hand from her cheek and turning, Enaid strode from the room, leaving Roth to stare at her back while her last words echoed endlessly in his head.

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  An hour after the strange meeting with the King of Brumwall and his family, Roth stood before his Free-Blade company. “Navi,” he called, motioning over the biggest man of the company, and the one whom he’d picked to be second in command. A powerful man, Navi stood a half-foot taller than Roth’s six feet, and carried fifty more pounds of muscle. He was also the best fighter among the Free-Blades, yet Roth bested him both in sword and in physical hand-to-hand fighting, which earned Roth the man’s highest respect.

  Navi stepped close to Roth. “My Captain?”

  “Each of these Free-Blade companies, individually, outnumber us. We need this employment. Make sure everyone understands how important this is.”

  “They understand what is needed and are ready,” the big man assured him.

  Before Roth could continue, the noise level in the training grounds went from a low roar to dead silence as the royal procession entered the training grounds. The only fanfare greeting the seven members of the party, was silence as every Free-Blade turned to follow their walk to a small raised platform erected in the center.

  A half step behind King Ecorah, came Prince Darb and then five officers of his army. Roth breathed a sigh of relief that Enaid was not with them, for he needed his concentration fixed on the task ahead, not on the woman who seemed to take away his ability to reason.

  Without doubt, after everything he had been through since boarding the shuttle in the twenty-second century, the last three hours had been the strangest in his life: intuitively, he realized the next few minutes, or hours, or however long it took, would be a close second. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on what would come next.

  When he opened his eyes, he called his men to attention. A moment later, King Ecorah spoke. “We seek two companies of proven and fit warriors. I am certain,” he said to the warriors, “each of you is experienced in blade, axe, and the use of bows. Were this not true, you would be in the ground rather than standing here.”

  A roar of laughter echoed from the massed Free-Blades. When the laughter died out, Ecorah continued. “What we do not seek is serious injury or death to anyone here.”

  He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Therefore, today will see each company face off against an opposing company in the first round. The four victorious companies will then fight each other. The two left standing will be offered one year of employment.” There was a sudden low murmur from the companies as they digested the king’s words.

  Ecorah paused for a moment to sweep his eyes across the gathered Free-Blades. He stopped when his eyes reached Roth. The corners of his lips quirked into a light smile and the king held up his hands.

  “One more thing,” he said, scanning the assembled Free-Blades. “The only weapons allowed are your hands, arms, legs and feet. If any man or woman amongst you breaks this rule, the entire company is forfeit.”

  As loud as the laughter had been, the silence following the king’s words was profound. Darb stepped in front of Ecorah and looked over the faces of the men assembled before him. “Prepare yourselves. You begin in five minutes.”

  A low wave of grumbles washed across the field and died as quickly as it began. Roth looked at Ecorah and Darb. Although surprised by the king’s words, Roth knew it was a test, designed to learn more about Roth—much more than just ascertaining his fighting ability. Nevertheless, it was a gift to benefit him and his men. His intuition told him this was Enaid’s doing, and perhaps her mother’s as well.

  He turned to Navi. “We are the smallest company, but the advantage is ours.” Then he raised his hands in the air and called his company around him. When everyone took a knee except for Roth, he said, “When I began to teach you my method of hand-to-hand fighting, I had no idea it would be used so soon. Know this, no Free-Blade on this field is as prepared for this fight as are we.”

  He paused to look at each of his Free-Blades before saying, “Be smart and use your head, your hands, and your legs as I have shown you. While there is much yet to learn, you know the basics and have the ability to win today…if you keep your wits about you. Do you understand?”

  “Aho-ya!” they shouted as one. Everyone on the training field, from the other Free-Blade companies, to the royal party, turned to stare at them.

  Exactly five minutes later, four of the king’s five officers came down from the raised platform as Prince Darb spoke. “The companies on the ends, face off with the one next to you. The four companies in the center, the same.”

  While the officers moved to their assigned Free-Blade companies, the hairs on Roth’s arms itched beneath his leather jerkin. He knew if the sleeves did not cover his arms, the hairs would be standing out as if electricity was pulling them. This was not the first time he’d had this sensation; rather, it was a frequent companion when he’d gone on missions with his Seal Company as part of his mission training for the eventual landing back on earth or wherever their ship ended up. He turned his head, searching for what his intuition picked up. Nothing on the field felt right. Then, as he looked at a watchtower in the distance, he knew. She was there, watching.

  He pulled his attention from his sense of Enaid just as the officer reached Roth’s section. The man gazed at both companies for a moment and, as he stared at Roth, shook his head at the obvious disadvantage. Not only was Roth smaller than any man there, Roth’s men were outnumbered almost, but not quite two to one. The officer stepped back. “Begin!”

  A short horn blast followed the command. The man opposite Roth leapt forward, a confident smile stretched across his face as he lunged at his smaller opponent. To Roth, the man moved in slow motion. When the Blade’s arms stretched out to grasp him, Roth dipped below, pushed forward and planted a solid fist into the man’s mid-section. The large fighter exhaled a grunt and involuntarily doubled over in reaction to the blow. In the same instant, Roth slammed his knee into the man’s chin. The Free-Blade’s body arched backward. Roth spun and, using a roundhouse kick, he caught the man on the side of his head. Roth’s boot sounded like lightning striking a rock. The man flew up and back, landing unconscious on the ground.

  Without looking at him, Roth turned to his left as another lumbering Nevaen reached for him. This time Roth dropped to a squatting position, extended his right leg, and swept the man’s feet from beneath him with a low spin kick. The man hit the ground and Roth, moving fast, rose above him and dropped, his elbow striking the man’s chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. Roth shifted and pressed his forearm across the man’s throat. �
��Yield!”

  The man, unable to speak, slammed his hand to the ground. Roth released him, stood and pulled the man to his feet. Turning, he readied himself for the next attack but found the area around him clear. He checked on his men and saw only three had fallen, the rest easily holding their own against what was left of the opposition.

  Instead of wading in, he stood still. Within minutes only two of the opposing Free-Blades remained. “Hold,” Roth called to his men as they circled the last two. His men stopped and Roth walked to the encircled fighters. He stepped close to them. “Yield now, you cannot win.”

  The smaller of the two, who still stood two inches taller than Roth did, met Roth’s challenging gaze. “We are not yet done.”

  “You would fight all of us?”

  “If necessary.”

  “Your name?”

  “Nahtan.”

  “Nahtan, you are either the bravest man I have met, or the most foolish. You believe you can survive all of us?”

  He smiled. “You I can take, another three or four of your men as well. Tam,” he added with a thumb toss to the man behind him, “can take on whoever is left.”

  “And a blowhard as well, are you?”

  “I will back words with deed,” he snarled, his eyes narrowing on Roth.

  “All right, Nahtan, I accept your challenge under the following condition. You and I fight. If you defeat me, it is the same as defeating my entire company. If I defeat you, you join my company. Anyone else in your company can do the same.”

  The Free-Blade’s brow furrowed. He leaned his head back and whispered in his companion’s ear. A moment later, he smiled at Roth. “And you call me a blowhard? I accept your challenge.”

  Several of Roth’s men laughed, but stopped the instant Roth glared at them. The Free-Blade at Nahtan’s back stepped away and joined the men circling the two fighters. Free-Blades from the remaining companies filled in along the outside of the circle.