by Greg Curtis
Time and time again he was told tales of how loved ones, usually the weakest, had been pounced on by the steel vermin and then torn apart in front of their families. Often it seemed the rats had avoided the soldiers, no doubt wanting an easier target, and had hunted the children instead. They had killed those still asleep in their beds, attacked the unarmed and the elderly, leapt upon the sick like wolves, and even murdered the priests and monks as they tended to the sick and dying. But it was the children who had been lost to those steel teeth that caused the greatest suffering.
For the longest time Sam had been unable to accept what he had been told. The absolute wrongness of such deeds made it impossible to believe anyone could do them, even when he read of the same horrors in the accounts of the Dragon Wars themselves. But as the days went by and he kept hearing the same tales from so many different mouths, he'd had no choice but to accept it as the truth. And that just made him angry.
It made the elves angry too. It had taken over a month for them to let their anger loose. They had initially been too busy fleeing in fear while they dealt with their grief and shock. Now though Sam was starting to hear the righteous anger coming through.
He understood it. The fear had subsided, and the grief had been dealt with which left the anger to start bubbling up from the depths. It was now boiling over like a cauldron in a fire. And in exactly the same way, it was creating a hissing, spitting cloud all over the camp, but was unable to be released against those who had committed this terrible evil. So it was striking out at everyone.
The women especially were starting to show it as they coped with their losses, and the men – even those who were used to the ways of the warrior – weren't far behind. Even worse, the children were starting to show its signs. Parents were talking constantly about their children's tantrums, screaming fits and nightmares. Many were even fighting.
As were their parents. They were travelling in overcrowded wagons and under difficult circumstances, heading for an uncertain future. It didn't take much for tempers to fray. A perceived slight, perhaps a small mishap, and the words and sometimes fists would fly. Sam knew it was only natural that the anger that they couldn't focus on the enemy was released somewhere. But that didn't make it right or easy to deal with. Especially when so many of the combatants lost control and physically had to be dragged apart lest there be more injuries or deaths.
The city guards and border patrols spent many long nights doing nothing more than breaking up fights. But often the whole caravan felt like the fire ring he'd twice held between his hands; an explosion simply waiting to happen. All that was needed was a spark.
Tyne Keep could be just such a spark Sam knew. Lord Cameral was a complete bastard, and if the situation was to his advantage he would happily murder the entire party. And right then he thought he had the advantage, and he wanted blood. More accurately he wanted gold, and lots of it, in return for the privilege of the elves wandering across his lands. In short he was charging a toll, and according to the guard who had come to see him, a large one. One gold piece for every ten elves.
Of course it was both an outrageous amount, and something the elves couldn't afford to pay even if they had that sort of wealth with them. Twenty thousand gold pieces would buy a new herd of horses, enough food to last them for many months, repairs to all the wagons, as well as enough weapons to equip an army. In short it would cover all the things that the elves needed. All the things that Cameral was determined to steal from them.
When he heard the news from the messenger, Sam realised the likely danger, and instead of relaying the information through the messenger, leapt on Tyla's back and raced for the front. He paused only long enough to grab the man's helmet which he donned even as they galloped insanely past the other wagons.
A third of a league ahead he found the wagons of the Ruling Council. The elders were sitting around a large fire preparing tea and food for Lord Cameral's party, something that seemed wrong to him. You didn't offer tea to people who had come to steal from you. And then there was the ceremony itself. The tea ceremony was a tradition that Sam had always found frustrating, being an often impatient man as Elder Bela had repeatedly told him. And when it came with blessings from the priests it was a thousand times worse. But right then it was worth all the frustration he had ever suffered, as it meant that nothing of consequence had been spoken thus far. It gave him time.
Leaving Tyla and his sword in the hands of a Council guard stationed behind the wagons, Sam grabbed the man's golden spear and vest with little more than a hurried thank you. The vest would at least cover the green of his repainted armour. He then lowered his visor and walked calmly towards the elders as if he was one of the guards himself. He even remembered to hold the oversized spear diagonally across his chest with both hands. It was a strange weapon to Sam. Guards trained in the use of spears should have shorter stabbing spears and round shields. The eight foot spear was unwieldy and without a shield the guard was vulnerable. But then the Council guards were there more for show than for any actual military reason, but adorned as he was in his newly whitened armour and vest he looked much like all the other guards. Save that was for his breadth of shoulder.
In only a few heartbeats he stood before the elders, who true to form were huddled together in a small circle discussing Lord Cameral's impossible demands. They barely even noticed the new guard come to meet them, and Sam had to quietly clear his throat a few times before they looked up.
“Yes?”
Incredibly, War Master Wyldred – who was acting as the intermediary for the war masters – hadn't realised who he was, despite the fact that he had personally brought his reworked armour to him not long before.
“Elders, it's me, Samual.”
As quietly as he spoke, his coarse accent must have gotten through to the elders, and he watched several heads pop up quickly from their huddles like gophers to stare at him. Thankfully none of them were from Lord Cameral's party, who were all clustered around a group of chairs laid out for them by the fire. But then they were as usual more interested in bragging about their wealth and power than worrying about others, and so were speaking loudly, making sure the elves overheard their tales of massive armies already preparing to march. It wasn't a subtle tactic, but then neither were they, and they hoped that by it they would persuade the elves to part with more of their precious gold.
As soon as he had the elders' attention Sam began telling them what he knew. What they needed to know.
“Cameral's a short wind. He talks a good fight, but he doesn't have the numbers to back his words. His keep is run down, with perhaps five hundred men at arms in it, and maybe another two thousand across the entire province he could call on, if he truly needed to. And they would take many days to assemble and then march. He also has a problem with dire wolves which ties up his patrols. That's why he desperately wants your gold, and he believes that you have plenty of gold as well as mithril.”
“His real strength is in his markets, which bring in more trade from across all of Fair Fields than any others, and in his spies, of which he is reputed to have legions. He also has some of the strongest mages around, and the reason that he's happy to walk out here and meet with you in the open is that several will be nearby, readying their most powerful magics to protect him.”
That raised a few eyebrows. Among the nobles of Fair Fields Cameral was almost a legend for his paranoia, and for his flock of highly expensive wizards he kept at his beck and call. In fact it was reported that they were the reason his keep was so run down. They took all his gold. But among the elves Sam suspected, his spell casters would prove to be less impressive.
“It's to his advantage for his people to trade with you, as much of that money goes into his coffers as taxes. Any commitment you can make to him about purchasing from his markets will be well received.”
“Unfortunately he's also a bully and greedy with it. If he finds weakness he will go for the throat, and by every means possible. Magic, armed force, de
ception, even sabotage; he will use any and all of them just to steal the people's wealth. He also will not care how many innocent people he hurts along the way. He cares nothing for anyone but himself. But if he finds strength he'll back down fast and take whatever you offer.”
“The key is to make him feel vulnerable. I advise you to first look for his mages. They won't be far away though they may be hidden with spells of concealment. Then bring them back to the table and accuse them as acting as spies. While you do so point out their weakness against true elven mages, of which you have hundreds if not thousands. At least that's what you must let him believe. Without his protection he'll take anything you offer just to get out of here.”
Sam felt absolutely no guilt in betraying Cameral's self-serving nature to the elves. Once, as the son of the king of these very lands he might have, though as a knight of Hanor he probably wouldn't. Knights protected the people, and Cameral was every bit as bad as the rest of the nobles. But he trusted the elves to do the right thing, and he'd never liked this particular lord. He had a barbaric sense of justice that he inflicted upon his subjects, and a crude sense of humour with which he regaled the other nobles, usually while stabbing them in the back through the actions of his agents.
It was a strange thing to have to admit, but while he found the elven system of rule frustrating and confusing, of the two dozen or so fiefdoms, baronies and principalities that comprised Fair Fields, he could think of none that were fairer to their people than them. Nor any that as a commoner he would find easier to live under. But that could be because of the elves themselves rather than their strange and convoluted system of governance. They were an inherently decent people, little concerned with things like wealth or power. Instead, they seemed to have a driving need to help one another. It was almost as though they were a large family rather than an entire people.
His message given, Sam backed up a dozen or so paces and stood guard by one of the wagons, exactly as another eight or so were doing, trying not to look out of place, and awaiting any sign he might be wanted. Despite the fact that the guards seemed to do very little most of the time, it wasn't easy. They had to stand stiffly to attention for many long hours while the elders and the lords spoke, remembering to always keep their spear properly positioned, and hope they didn't cramp up.
Still, it had its rewards. For Sam at least. Because while standing there he was able to listen to the Lord's account of what had gone on in Fall Keep just a few short weeks before. The elders claiming their usual curiosity, asked him about it at length. That didn't surprise Sam as he knew the elders were still a little concerned about the brevity of his report back to them as to what he'd done there. However, Lord Cameral was more than willing to oblige.
His extensive network of spies meant he had a very accurate picture of the night's events. The only thing he had wrong was that he believed that Sam and Harmion Fallbright had acted together, and that once Harmion had fallen, Sam had apparently fled. Though why someone who could ring an entire keep with an eighty foot high wall of fire for over a week would flee, wasn't clear. Presumably whoever his agents had bribed for information had been unwilling to admit that Sam alone had had them all at his mercy. But at least none of the keep's soldiers had died, which was a relief to Sam as he'd never really considered them to be enemies, and surely a relief to the elders. It had taken some three days to chip the last of the soldiers out of the stone floors into which they had sunk and a few were still in care.
Of more interest to Sam, was what else the lord knew or believed. Things like how the fight had gone, and the price of treachery being paid by the rest of the Fallbright House. For a start his brother had cheated, using a poisoned dart someone had apparently managed to smuggle in. Trust Heri to cheat in a matter of honour, was Sam's first thought when he heard of it. It was almost Heri's only talent. Certainly it was his greatest. But surprisingly for once Sam couldn't accuse him of having won unfairly as he hadn't been the only one to cheat. Harmion had coated the tip of his sword with dragon bile, and Heri's armour had begun to rot and fall off him from the very first blow. It had actually been a fair fight in the end. The most cunning rat had won.
After the battle Heri had quickly placed the entire blame on the Fallbright House and had demanded recompense. Thus, as well as burying a son and brother, the family were paying for the repairs to Fall Keep. The bill was so large it was rumoured that the Fallbrights would have to sell large tracts of arable land, and their finest herds to pay it. And that was before they even began to look at the punitive damages which Heri was still adding up. Yet none of that would have hurt a fraction as much as having to publicly declare their dead son a traitor, as Heri had demanded of them. They were not a nice family, but they still cared for their kin.
Sam on the other hand had been publicly declared as a traitor to Fair Fields by Heri himself, something he would no doubt have enjoyed immensely. A sizeable reward had also been placed on his head. Sam didn't think it was any coincidence that Lord Cameral was asking for twenty thousand gold pieces, a sum that matched exactly the price on his head. No doubt that was the real reason the Lord was so eager to discuss the matter. He knew Sam was half elven, and probably that his mother had come from Shavarra. Putting two and two together, he was trying to work out if Sam might be among them. If so he presumably guessed that that the elves might hand Sam over in lieu of paying the twenty thousand gold pieces, so that Lord Cameral could then claim those reward monies for himself. Of course he didn't stand a chance of being paid the reward, and even he should have understood that.
Heri had put out the reward in all likelihood simply to save face. Branding Sam as a dangerous criminal was simply a cover for his own crimes. To not do so would be a tacit admission of his own guilt, or worse his fear. A king could not show fear. But he had no intention of actually hunting Sam down. He would be terrified by the thought that his people might actually find him. That's why the reward was only offered to Heri's personal guards; he offered it as a way to atone for their failure in Heri's own words. Cameral presumably had a way to hold Sam and then claim the reward for himself, presumably while ingratiating himself to Heri and at the same time finding a soft spot in his back to stick his dagger in.
The one thing Sam was certain of was that none of those guards were ever going to be free to do any bounty hunting. Heri wouldn't allow it. And since all of them had seen him in action, even if they did become free one day, they weren't likely to take up the offer anyway. Nor, if they truly had been imprisoned by his fire wall for more than a week, would any of the soldiers from the keep. And Heri's assassins for much the same reasons, had all been recalled. Heri had at last learned fear.
Cameral though had a different lesson to learn. Disappointment.
The elders, in keeping with their people's great love of honesty and sophistry, told Lord Cameral that there were at least two hundred thousand elves in their caravan, and it was quite possible that Sam could be among them. He was welcome to search, provided he didn't delay their progress or upset any elves. The people were upset and it was unclear how much more strife they could endure before something gave, and then the consequences could be dire.
That set Cameral's teeth grinding away in anger. He'd obviously hoped that they would simply bring Sam out to him to be led away. Clearly they weren't so inclined. That meant if the Lord was to find Sam he had to search through the caravans, and hope that his actions didn't cause a riot. All his soldiers put together couldn't restrain such a large group of angry elves and he knew it. Yet he had to at least appear cordial. His face flushed with anger as he continued his tale but he said nothing untoward.
In the weeks that had followed Harmion's death, Heri had raised the taxes and demanded new measures from his lords to show their loyalty. Primarily they included having one child from each of the noble families to remain in Fall Keep at all times. Heri apparently, had decided to take hostages. Faced with a ruined keep, and one example of brazen treachery, Heri had chosen to reign
in his errant lords by any means necessary.
To Cameral it was merely a way of retaining power, even though one of his own kin was also now a hostage. Sam though saw it as a sign of true evil, as Heri was now using the same weapon he had previously levelled against him. If he had said it once he had said it a thousand times; Heri had all the cunning of a rat in a dung heap, and even fewer morals.
Cameral's news made Sam sad as well as angry. Sad not only for the people who would now suffer, but also for his brother who it seemed still had learned nothing of right and wrong. There seemed little hope that he would ever become a man their father might be proud of. And while those he would be holding as hostages might for the most part be no better than him, there would be some who were entirely innocent. Meanwhile the taxes Sam could guess weren't going to be used to repair the throne or the castle. Instead the money would be used to bolster his army.
It was another sure sign of a paranoid king, which was exactly how Cameral saw it as well. What neither he nor Heri could seem to understand was that it would be the people who would suffer for that paranoia, as they would have to work ever longer hours to pay those taxes, and then would no doubt be killed when hostilities broke out. A paranoid king taking hostages? That had to end badly.
