HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir)

by Southwick, Michael G.

  The leader looked away, then turned back. Reaching into his tunic he pulled out a small dagger and handed it toward Jorem hilt first. “You honor your house, Son of Grendith. Such courage is not lost on the Folk.”

  Jorem slid his sword back into its ties then took the dagger. The rider nodded and continued after the others. Glancing at the dagger, Jorem tucked it beneath his vest. Dismounting, he knelt beside Jannett. She did not respond when he spoke to her. The wind rustled through the leaves as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon. Jorem looked back at the cave to see that it was gone. A hillside of clover and fern was in its place.

  Once again there were the sounds of horses and men approaching. Apparently the workhorse had left an easy trail to follow. Jorem stood and watched them as they came. Franks was in the lead, followed by several others, including a number of Pertheron’s guards and a few of the guardsmen that frequented the inn. The smith heaved himself from his horse and ran, stumbling to his knees as he wrapped his arms around his daughter.

  “Jannett, oh my dear Jannett,” he whispered as tears streamed down his face.

  With the closing of the portal to the realm of the Folk, Jannett had regained awareness. She looked confused for a moment. That she was in her father’s arms in the middle of the forest surrounded by armed warriors slowly seeped into her mind. Like a drowning man, she wrapped he arms around her father’s neck.

  “Father, oh Father!” she cried, her voice hoarse with emotion as she threw herself into his embrace.

  Jorem led the workhorse out of the way as the rest of the men from the village gathered around father and daughter. No one spoke to him. Few even looked his way. The smith was totally focused on his daughter and the men paid him as much heed as Pertheron and Jannett usually did. He was too tired from his efforts of the night to even care. Finding a shady spot, he sat down and leaned his back against a tree and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter XXIV

  When Jorem awoke, the others had already gone. By the westerly position of the sun, he figured it must be well past noon. The old workhorse was tethered nearby and seemed quite content in the dappled shadows as it munched away at the tall grass. The whole scene was so peaceful it was almost unreal. A slight breeze caressed his skin. The breeze carried on it the smell of wild flowers and earth.

  Jorem levered himself up off of the ground. Yawning, he stretched to get the knots out from sleeping on the ground. He could feel the imprints the bark of the tree had left in his back. As he walked over to the horse, his legs ached in complaint of his earlier ride. The last thing that he wanted to do was to get back in the saddle. Unfortunately, unless he wanted to walk, he had several more hours’ ride to get back to the inn.

  Someone had loosened the saddle girth, so Jorem tightened it back up before mounting. The horse was quite put out when Jorem nudged it to start out. He couldn’t blame the horse for its reluctance to leave such an ideal place. Nevertheless, he reined the horse around and started down the track. He wouldn’t have minded staying longer, but his last meal seemed forever ago and his knowledge of the local edible plants was severely lacking.

  The trip back was rather pleasant, other than sitting astride the workhorse’s wide back. The trail was much easier to follow in the daylight, especially due to several riders having passed this way. A gentle breeze was blowing through the trees and a variety of birds flittered from limb to limb, chirping out to one another. Squirrels dashed from tree to tree, occasionally stopping to scold Jorem and the horse for intruding into their domain.

  When he finally got back to the smithy, he gave the horse a good rub down. The big, old horse nearly purred with pleasure. It’s eyes slowly closed and its nose drooped until it almost touched the ground. Jorem doubted that the horse got such attention often, but after last night it was the least he could do by way of thanks for the animal’s efforts. With a quick check to be sure there was ample hay and water in the stall, Jorem headed for the inn. Food and sleep were all that were on his mind.

  The next day, Jorem awoke late. He had gotten accustomed to getting up on his own, so it didn’t surprise him that no one had come to get him. He dressed quickly, but decided to take the time to bathe and have a good first meal before returning to the smithy. When he finally got there, he found the room still dark and the forge cold.

  Franks hadn’t left any instructions for him, so after he got a fire going in the forge, he spent his time cleaning. He went through all of the tools, checking for damage or wear. Swinging a hammer with a cracked handle was not a pleasant experience, and Jorem had no desire to do that again. It was several candle marks before anyone showed up and then it wasn’t who Jorem had expected.

  Ben came in and sat down. “Father is in a council session with the Duke. He’ll probably be there all day.”

  The day had just begun and Ben already looked tired. Something was bothering the blacksmith’s son and Jorem didn’t think it had anything to do with the event involving the Folk. Jorem walked over next to Ben. Placing both hands on the bench top, he leaned forward and sighed. He looked over at Ben and saw the other boy was staring fixedly at the bench top.

  “So,” Jorem said questioningly, “What are we supposed to do?”

  “He said for me to tend to the forge.” Ben’s voice was depressed and discouraged. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I mean, it wears me out just wrapping the hilts of a few swords. How am I going to do all of this?” he said waving an arm at the room. Ben looked around the room and shook his head. “I don’t think I can.”

  Jorem wasn’t sure what to say. Franks had told him that Ben had a great talent for this kind of work. But if Ben couldn’t do it anymore, what would he do for the rest of his life? Sit in a corner and sob about what might have been? Jorem wasn’t about to sit back and watch that happen.

  “Why don’t we start with some of the smaller stuff that won’t take as long?” Jorem suggested. “That way, you won’t have to do any heavy lifting and you can take a break whenever you need to.”

  Ben didn’t look very excited about the idea. He shrugged his shoulders with an air of resignation. Jorem decided to take that as agreement and set about getting a small job set up to go. Ben got one of the heavy leather aprons on and started picking through the hammers and tongs.

  One repair was followed by a break and then another repair. The work was slow and Ben’s mother stopped in several times during the day. Even at the slow pace, it was amazing to watch Ben at work. It was as if the metal was alive in his hands. With each strike of the hammer, the metal twisted and curled to Ben’s will. By the end of the day the blacksmith’s son was totally exhausted, but the look in his eyes told another story. The repairs that they had done had, in and of themselves, been small and simple. The effect that accomplishing them had on Ben was inspiring. His eyes glinted as he finally laid down the hammer he had held in his hand.

  Jorem had made a point of setting each finished item on a bench near the door. As Ben was hanging up his apron, he reached over and touched one of the finished parts on the bench. His touch was almost a caress as he ran his hand over the spot that had been mended. A smile came to his face as he looked back at Jorem.

  Still grinning, Ben said, “See you tomorrow, then?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Jorem replied.

  As Ben walked through the doorway he stood a little taller. The limp that had plagued him could hardly be noticed. Watching the other boy go Jorem thought to himself, “I think I’ll not be needed here much longer.” He should have felt relieved that it was almost over, but somehow it left him a little lost.

  Jorem was just finishing cleaning up after the days work when he heard the door open. When he turned he saw Jannett standing in the doorway. She looked frightened, yet determined at the same time. She walked into the room and stopped by one of the benches. Her arms were folded tightly as if she were cold. The door slowly swung closed. When the door thumped closed it startled her so much she nearly jumped out of her skin.


  Jannett stared fixedly at the bench top and braced herself. “Father told me what you did.” Her words sounded as if she had to force them out. “He said I owe you my life, that you risked your life to save mine.”

  Looking at her Jorem could see that she was scared. She stood straight and tall but her eyes would not meet his. For some reason, seeing her there, proud and fearful, he thought of Jen. The day she healed his hand she had seemed so fragile for someone so strong. Thoughts of her brought a smile to his face. Jannett, seeing his smile, miss interpreted his intent and blushed a deep crimson.

  Jorem noticed the girls face and realized what she must be thinking. No doubt his brothers would have taken advantage of the situation, he on the other hand had no need for an enemy like Pertheron. Jannett was quite a beauty with her big brown eyes and long dark hair, but she wasn’t worth shaming the royal family over. Shaking his head Jorem sat down on a stool and studied the top of the bench as though it were a new discovery.

  When he was certain that he had control of himself Jorem looked at her. “I only did what Ben would have done were he able, what any brother would do for his sister.”

  Jannett considered Jorem for a while before responding. “Brother?”

  “Your family has been very kind to me, I’ve become quite fond of them. Besides, I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  Her voice was a mere whisper as Jannett looked down at the floor. “Ben was right you really are different.” She looked up and a slight smile crossed her face. “Thank you, and thank you for what you did for Ben.” Without another word she turned and left the smithy.

  Chapter XXV

  To His Majesty King Halden

  Father,

  I trust this missive finds you in good health. My services with the

  Blacksmith of Broughbor have come to an end. The Blacksmith’s apprentice,

  having regained his health, is returning to his duties.

  As I have had little time to visit the people in this part of the land,

  I would request thy permission to remain here for a time. If you require

  my services at home, I will leave immediately and return to take up my duties.

  Your Servant,

  Prince Jorem

  Jorem sat in his room staring at the letter he had just finished writing. Several crumpled balls of paper lay on the floor at his feet. He had been trying all morning to compose this letter so that it didn’t sound too whiny or personal. He had no idea if anyone would even read it, as he had received no response to any of his previous letters.

  The letter he had written to Jen had been much easier to write. He had told her about the power stone before. It would just be longer getting it to her than he had hoped. He had considered sending it with a group of traders, but Sashia’s warning about the fragility of the stone made him reconsider. He decided it would be best to deliver the stone to her himself. It wouldn’t be that long before he was back at the castle. At least he didn’t think it would be very long.

  Folding the letter to his father neatly, he picked up the candle from his desk and dripped some of the liquid wax onto the seam of the paper. Biorne had told him a group of travelers were headed for the capitol tomorrow and that he was welcome to join them. The only reason Jorem could think of for him to return to the capitol was to see Pentrothe. The old wizard had been both father and friend to him for as long as he could remember.

  Pentrothe was, in fact, the only person who had written to him. The letters had all been short, sometimes no more that a few sentences, but at least he’d written. The last letter had weighed heavily in Jorem’s decision to stay in Broughbor. The wizard had written that he was going to Dawnsword to help Lady Zensa with something and would likely be there for some time.

  What would be the point of going back to the capitol if Pentrothe wasn’t there? He had to admit that it would be good to see Jen and Jeseph, but he could hardly spend all of his time with them. So he had decided to stay in Broughbor. He was certain that he could stay at the inn for as long as he liked. All he had to do now was to decide just what he was going to do while he was here.

  The first thing he decided was that he couldn’t stay here as Prince Jorem. One thing he had learned was that people treated him differently when they knew his father was the King. To that end, he had decided to cut his hair to the short bristle length worn by most of the fighting men that he had met. He had started cutting it himself and quickly realized he needed help. Somehow his hands got confused as he looked at himself in the mirror.

  Jorem had asked Linda to cut his hair last night after the evening meal. She hadn’t been happy about it, saying that it was a shame to cut off such lovely hair. When she had finished she had frowned deeply and said no one would recognize him. As soon as she had said that he knew it had been the right choice. He’d asked her to have Biorne and all of the workers at the inn meet him in the kitchen. He would need their cooperation if his plans were going to work.

  As soon as all of them had entered the kitchen Jorem had laid it out for them. He had told them that Jorem would be leaving to stay in the keep with the Duke and that Rim would be staying at the inn for a while. Some had caught on quickly while others had needed a bit more explaining. Not all of them understood why he would want to be someone other than a prince, but they all agreed to abide by his decision. Oddly enough, he found that they considered him to be a friend.

  So now here he was, letter in hand, walking down the hallway to the common room as Rim. Having his neck and ears exposed gave him a strange hyper-awareness of things around him. As he entered the common room he noticed that his usual table was vacant. He chose a different table so as not to invite speculation. The table he chose was also a corner table out of the main area of the room.

  There were quite a few people in the room, mostly soldiers and mercenaries. From what Biorne had told him, the Duke was increasing the size of his guard to help quell fears after the raid by the Folk. Jorem understood the thinking behind this plan, but he also knew that a show of force against the Folk would do little good. If anything, it would tempt the Folk to come more often. Their motives were far different than those of the people in the Kingdom.

  As Jorem sat at his table enjoying his noon meal, he watched those about him and listened to their chatter. It was quite pleasant just sitting there, hearing the soft murmur of voices punctuated by the occasional clinking of mugs and tableware. The servers bustled about ensuring that everyone was seen to. The sun streamed in through the windows, revealing dust motes floating in the air. He had nothing to do and nowhere to go. He tried to relax, but after working day in and day out for so long he was restless to be doing something.

  The conversation in the room suddenly quieted as the door opened and closed. A tall slim figure entered the room and walked to the counter. Jorem had seen quite a few female mercenaries before, but this one was very different from those. She stood straight and tall, her sandy hair cropped short, not much longer than his. She was clad in dusty, gray leather that hugged her skin like a glove. As she crossed the room she seemed to blend with the shadows like a chameleon.

  Normally when an attractive female entered the inn there were at least a few catcalls and whistles. There was none of that this time. Jorem looked about the room to find that no eyes followed this woman. Most of the men, in fact, were studiously looking the other way. Looking closer at the woman gave no clue for this behavior. She was indeed quite attractive. Her face was almost delicate in appearance. With an impassive expression, she looked around the room. Her sky blue eyes took note of each individual in the room.

  “I have need of a sparring partner.” Her clear voice resonated through the room.

  Her tone was one used to command, clear and crisp. It was quite common for soldiers and mercenaries alike to call for sparring partners at the inn. It gave them a chance to learn new skills and to hone old ones. There was a cleared area between the stables and the inn that gave ample room for sparring. Jorem had seld
om had time to watch the sparring but he had seen them at it several times. There was always someone willing to get in some practice.

  Not so this time. No one spoke. No one even looked in her direction. More than a few actually hunkered down over their tables in hopes of going unnoticed. Looking back and forth at the strange behavior of the warriors in the room, Jorem shook his head. It had been nearly a year since he had practiced with a sword. There was no doubt in his mind that he could use some practice. If no one else was going to take up the opportunity to practice, he decided that he would.

  Quietly, Jorem stood and waved the woman over to his table. Her eyes locked on him but she made no move to join him. She looked him up and down as if she were examining a suspect horse. Raising an eyebrow, she looked around the room once more. Jorem got the distinct impression that she was looking for someone or something better. No one else volunteered. It seemed that she had little choice in the matter.

  Without changing her expression, she looked at Jorem and nodded her head. “Half a mark from now, behind the inn.”

  Without another word the woman turned and left the inn. Those in the room let out a collective sigh as the door closed. A burly mercenary sitting at a table next to Jorem’s leaned over and squinted his eyes at him.

  “Hope you have a sevenday or two with nothin’ to do,” the mercenary said. At Jorem’s confused look, he continued. “Neth there is the fastest, meanest critter that ever laid hands on a blade. Trouble is, she don’t hold back, even when she’s a practicin’. She’s put more’n one feller in the healin’ tent from her idea of practicin’. Luck to ya lad.”

  “Well I was looking for something to keep me busy”, Jorem thought as he went to his room to get ready for a new adventure.