The Warden's Sword

by Paul Summerhayes

  A pox-faced man cried out and dropped to the ground. They had forgotten Arkeen and his woodsman axe. A swordsman turned his attention to the old eldon and moved to engage him. Severus was too busy with the remaining three to assist in Arkeen’s fate. Silently, he wished him luck.

  As the three moved against him, the assassin sidestepped quickly, putting one man between himself and the other two. The man thrust his sword at Severus’s chest but it was skilfully deflected with the flat of the axe head with a metallic clang that rang out loud across the mountain. The swordsman’s forward momentum caused him to overbalance, giving Severus the opening and with two hands, the eldon imbedded the axe deep into the man’s chest. As the man fell, Severus let go the axe’s shaft and took the sword from the dead man’s fingers. He turned to face the remaining two, who looked surprised in the speed that their friend had fallen.

  The coppery smell of blood and the cries of the dying filled the air. Severus had to finish this fight soon or he would pass out from the pain that threatened to overwhelm his body. He felt blood warm against his cold skin, running down his chest—his shoulder wound had reopened. Time would see him falter and be too weak to lift a weapon. He smiled grimly. If the gods will it, he would take these men with him to hell.

  Numbness soaked into his feet and he could no longer feel his toes in the snow. His breath came hard and vapour clouds blew from his mouth. The assassin raised his sword and stepped forward. “Let’s do this,” he muttered.

  The mercenaries were experienced warriors and started to move back. Their eyes never left the half-naked killing machine. The rumours were right.

  In unison, the pair turned and fled down the mountain, leaving their fallen companions as they lay. There was no profit in dying.

  Severus looked at the carnage. Blood coated the snow everywhere. His hair and nightshirt were soaked in blood.

  The large man lay in the snow still holding his severed leg. His cries were not much more than weak moans as he slowly bled out—

  “No!” cried Arkeen. “No…”

  Severus turned and assessed the battlefield with an experienced glance. Near the burning cabin lay a mercenary with a woodsman’s axe imbedded in his head. Its wielder, Arkeen, sat in the snow nearby and cradled his blood-covered wife—her lifeless eyes stared up at the clear sky.

  Leanar knelt beside her father, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  No! Severus rushed to them and dropped his knees. Arkeen stared in disbelief at his wife’s face as he smoothed her grey-streaked hair. Her lifeless hand rested on her blood-soaked chest.

  Severus’s head swooned and he fought hard to stay conscious. Arkeen turned his head and stared at the person who had changed his life. “You did this,” he said coldly. It was the last thing Severus heard before a cold darkness washed over his senses and he blacked out.

  Chapter 10

  “It’s judgment time.” Finn opened the cell door but Kirk didn’t move. He remained stretched out on the small bunk with his eyes closed. Finn kicked the bunk and the prisoner stirred.

  “I’m getting up.” Kirk stood and went to move past Finn but the eldon stopped him with a hand on his chest.

  “You better wear these,” said Finn, holding up shackles. “We don’t want you thinking you are free.”

  “But I will be soon,” smirked Kirk.

  Finn shackled both of Kirk’s hands and led him outside the warden’s cottage where Garm stood waiting. A cool afternoon breeze blew through the village’s south gate and gently pulled at their green cloaks. Beside the stables across from their cottage stood three cloaked men. They watched the two wardens and their prisoner.

  “Looks like we have company,” said Finn with a nod toward the men.

  “They have been there for a while,” said Garm. “Do you want me to check them out?”

  “No. I am pretty sure they’re Kirk’s kidnapper friends.”

  “Never saw them before,” said Kirk smugly.

  “We’ll round them up later.”

  Finn could feel the men’s eyes boring into his back as they walked toward the town hall. He placed his hand on the black sword’s hilt. It was cool under his touch. A good sign.

  The circuit judge, Francis Smythe, looked over the top of his glasses and placed a sheet of paper onto the table before him. He was an ancient looking man with thin white hair and a matching wispy beard.

  The town hall was full to capacity. Trials were not common in Freewater and the locals didn’t want to miss the entertainment. Several prominent merchants had closed their stalls and were in the front row of the audience. Kliem, the gnome, was amongst them and he acknowledged Finn from across the room.

  Kirk Auttenburg sat solemnly, chained to a table in front of the Judge. He was flanked by Finn and Garm. Achim Auttenburg, Kirk’s father, sat with the other members of the merchant’s guild on the left side of the hall. He relaxed and joked with his peers. He occasionally glanced at Finn.

  Judge Smythe had listened to all the evidence presented and now was deciding the outcome. He was motionless for some time with his eyes closed and Finn wondered if the old man had fallen asleep.

  Finn’s thoughts slowly drifted to the events that had happened over the last year. They had come far and seen much since leaving the White Cloud Mountains. Meeting Warden Kalher had changed his life. Firstly because Kalher was Finn’s first real father figure, apart from his grandfather and secondly, he had made him a warden and a member of a community. That’s a big achievement for an outsider.

  “You thinking of Anna?” said Garm.

  “No.”

  “She’ll be all right. She and the knights must be almost at Parma by now.”

  “With that prince...”

  “Don’t worry. She knows how you feel about her. Anthon might me a prince but he is not you.”

  “She didn’t look happy the last time we spoke. I think I overstepped my boundaries.”

  “Don’t worry. She knows how dumb you are, so she’ll forgive you.” Garm smiled.

  “Thanks, little brother.”

  “Besides, it’s not that far and you’ll be at her side in a few days. You can say sorry in person. It’s my experience that women like men to say sorry.”

  “You’ve apologised to a lot of women?”

  “I…well, I…look, the old judge is stirring. Maybe he’s made his decision.”

  Judge Smythe picked up a small wooden hammer and rapped on the table. Silence fell across the hall. The judge surveyed the room with watery old eyes and for a brief moment his gaze lingered on Achim Auttenburg, and a bad feeling crept over Finn.

  The judge cleared his throat. “Fellow Tarmians. By the power vested in me by our just King Wilhelm III, I, Judge Francis Smythe, after hearing the evidence will now pass judgment on the accused, Kirk Auttenburg. The accused was apprehended on the property of Mayor Ernst Bohmer six days ago in the alleged act of breaking in and kidnapping. Auttenburg admits he was there on the fore mentioned night. And that he had consumed a large quantity of alcohol and had gotten lost. He has stated that he did not commit any crime apart from being drunk in public.”

  “The liar wasn’t drunk,” mumbled Finn under his breath.

  “The Auttenburg family are noble pillars of the community and Kirk has no previous criminal records. I hereby sentence Kirk Auttenburg to the time already served incarcerated and one silver penny payable to the mayor for any inconvenience suffered. This is followed by his immediate released.”

  “What?!” Finn exclaimed.

  Judge Smythe hit his small hammer twice on the table. “Court’s adjourned.”

  Achim Auttenburg and his cronies cheered. Many of the merchants congratulated Achim and patted him on his back. He walked across the hall and patted his son’s back firmly and then walked to the mayor and dropped a coin into his hand. The mayor looked as stunned as Finn.

  Kirk held up his hands and jingled the chains mockingly. “Release me, Warden. I’m free.”

  Finn w
isely held his tongue and begrudgingly unlocked the blonde man’s restraints.

  “Thanks, Warden. It was nice staying with you,” he said. Kirk started to walk away but hesitated, turning back to Finn. “I’ll visit you again—soon.”

  The brothers watched in silence as Kirk walked over to his father’s group of friends and they walked out of the town hall laughing. Many spectators followed them, cheering for Kirk.

  The mayor walked over to the brothers. “Sorry that turned out the way it did.”

  “They bribed the judge,” said Finn.

  “We don’t know that.”

  “He’s guilty,” said Finn. “How else would he get off?”

  Year - 838

  Chapter 11

  Severus was warm. It took his drowsy brain a few moments to realise that he was lying in the back of a covered wagon covered in blankets. The gentle jostling and bouncing was strangely comforting, rocking him like a mother rocks her baby in a crib.

  “So you’re finally awake,” said an unfamiliar voice. He could not see the speaker and tried to sit up but shooting pain made him lie down again.

  “You’re too weak to sit.” It was Leanar who spoke. She sat at his feet also wrapped in a blanket.

  “Where am I? What happened?”

  “Do you remember the men? They were looking for you. People died…my mother died,” she said, her voice heavy with grief. Severus knew he was responsible.

  “I am sorry, Leanar. It was my fault.”

  “No,” she said. “I found you on the mountain and convinced my parents to save you. It was my actions that made those men come to our house…and kill my mother. She was so nice. So gentle…I miss her so much.”

  They both were silent for some time.

  “Where are we?” he eventually asked.

  “We’re almost in the White Cloud Mountains.

  “White Cloud Mountains? How long was I unconscious?”

  “My father said you had snow fever. You have been unconscious for several days.”

  “Days?”

  “You spoke in your sleep,” she said.

  “It was the fever...”

  “You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you, Severus?”

  He didn’t want to discuss his life with a stranger and changed the subject. “Why have we come to the White Cloud Mountains?”

  “We are going to my aunt’s house.”

  “Why?”

  “There is nothing left for us there. All our stuff is gone and Mother…”

  “I’ll make it up to you and help you rebuild. I can give you money for—”

  “Keep your money! It won’t bring her back!”

  “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.” Wherever he went, death always followed him. That was the life of an assassin.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Looking out the back of the wagon, she watched the trees pass by. Her eyes were wet with emotion but her tears refused to come.

  Mid-afternoon, the wagon stopped. Severus sat up and grimaced as pain shot through his body.

  “We’re here,” said Arkeen from the front of the wagon.

  “Where is here?” Severus asked.

  Leanar started to climb out the back of the wagon and hesitated. Their eyes locked for a moment and he could see her hatred, and he didn’t blame her. He had destroyed their lives forever.

  “We’ve arrived at Third Peak,” she said softly. “We’re high in the White Cloud Mountains. Even a murderer like you should be able to hide here.” She vanished out the back of the wagon and he heard her footsteps crunching in the snow as she walked away.

  The back flap of wagon opened and Arkeen looked in. “Can you get out by yourself?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. You have a lot to make up for. You can start by helping me unload the wagon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “None of that, just call me Arkeen.”

  “I’ll try and make up for what has happened.”

  “If you want to help…leave as soon as you can. You’ll bring death to everyone around you.” The wagon flap dropped and he was gone.

  Chapter 12

  Standing on the cottage’s porch, Finn fastened his green cloak with a warden’s leaf brooch. Days were getting warmer but the night air still held a little bite. Finn watched Garm lead Patch and Brownie from the stable. The two small mountain horses that Finn had liberated from their previous life looked strong and healthy, showing no signs of their previous neglect.

  Finn stepped off the porch steps and threw his pack onto Brownie, the small bay horse, and tied it on. Patch snorted and nodded his head. The horse was eager to get moving as well.

  “I see you’re taking your bow,” said Garm.

  “I’m not taking any chances this time.” Finn climbed into the white and brown horse’s saddle. “Try to keep out trouble and try to avoid Kirk.”

  “I know. Keep my big mouth closed.”

  “See you in two weeks.” Finn turned Patch’s head toward the south gate and nudged the horse forward. The small horse obeyed without complaint.

  “When you see Anna, remember to say sorry,” shouted Garm.

  Finn gave a brief wave to his brother as he rode through the town gates and out into the country side.

  Finn thought about Anna as he rode along the road that led east from Freewater to the Cold Heart Mountains. The road was little more than a wide track and was simply known as the East Road, mainly used by merchants actively avoiding paying road taxes before they crossed the mountains into Krystoria. The road was not patrolled by the king’s men so traffic was light.

  The main route going south was the Konige Road. It stretched from Kivsoe in the far north to the capital, Andar, in the south. Finn needed to catch up to Anna and travelling the Konige Road would add an extra day or two to his trip. He should only be a day or two behind her arrival in the Parma if all things went well. Riding these two horses would be quicker over the mountains than a coach.

  Late in the afternoon, Finn reached the mountains’ foot hills where the East Road joined the Kalteberg Road. The Kalteberg Road led from Treemere and crossed over the mountains into Krystoria. The two small horses did not change their pace as they trotted up the gentle sloping road. They were mountain horses after all and the Kalteberg Road was well maintained and the going was easier than the East Road.

  Finn was satisfied with his progress and planned to stop at the Long Cloud Inn for the night. The small inn was still a few miles away—located at the top of the mountain range just inside the Tarmian border. It was where Finn had killed Tharr, the bandit chief, a few weeks before. The bandit had worked for the necromaster, Morgan Tollis, called the master by his henchmen. The master had not been seen or heard of since his zombies were destroyed and he vanished without a trace.

  The sun dropped in the west and the mountains were quickly shrouded in darkness. Up ahead a yellow light shone in the darkness. The inn was not too far ahead. This road was well-travelled and maintained and the going was not difficult.

  The White Cloud Inn was a compact stone structure built beside the road. Yellow light spilled from its windows and onto the dirt road. It promised warmth and hopefully good food to the passing traveller. Finn led his horses to the rear of the inn and into a small stable. A covered wagon stood beside the stable and his thoughts flashed to his time tied in the back of the bandits’ wagon not so long ago.

  Finn walked to the front of the inn and entered into the warm taproom. Nothing had changed. The same dwarven barman stood behind his polished timber bar smoking a long-stemmed pipe. The fireplace was ablaze and added both warmth and a smoky aroma to the room—

  “Master Finn, is that you?”

  Finn surveyed the room. There were only a few patrons seated in the room, an armoured dwarf, two humans and a gnome—the gnome was Kliem, the merchant from Freewater. He beckoned the young eldon to join him at his table.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Finn.

  “I am maki
ng my monthly run into Krystoria to sell my goods,” replied the gnome. “The Krystorians are better payers than us Tarmians and so it is worth my while.”

  “Where in Krystoria are you headed?”

  “I am going to the Parma markets and I should be there by tomorrow evening.”

  “This is a chance meeting as I, too, am going to Parma.”

  “On official warden duty?”

  “No, it’s a long story. I’m meeting Anna there.”

  “Anna, you say?”

  “Well…”

  “Say no more, young Finn. It’s none of my business, as my good wife would remind me.”

  Finn walked to the bar and ordered a hot meal and booked a room for the night. He returned to Kliem’s table with a steaming mug of tea. “Are you staying here for the night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe tomorrow we can travel together.”

  “Great, I would like the company,” said the gnome.

  Kliem woke early and had hitched a large work horse to his wagon before Finn came outside. The eldon tied his two smaller horses behind the wagon and climbed up beside the gnome. As they headed out onto the mountain road, a broad shape appeared from the shadow of the inn and a strong hand gripped the work horse’s reins.

  “You there!” shouted Kliem. “Release that horse.”

  “I seek passage into Krystoria.” It was the dwarf Finn noticed the night before. He was five foot tall and he was barrel-chested and thick-limbed. He wore plate armour on his chest and legs but his powerful arms and head were bare—his hair was black and plaited at the back. His black beard was also in a single plait which hung down his massive chest to his wide belt. Slung across his back was a large-bladed axe.

  “Sorry, my good dwarf. We’re not taking any passengers,” said Kliem. “Good day.” He shook the reins to move the horse forward but the dwarf didn’t release his grip.