BlackThorn

by DeWayne Kunkel

  Burcott laughed and slammed the palm of his hand down upon the table. “Why the long faces?” He exclaimed. “This is War!”

  “Januel,” Burcott pointed to one of his youngest captains. “Have ale brought and see that scouts are posted on the trail. I want warning should any of Vernal’s men have followed us.”

  The young warrior bowed quickly and left the hall in a rush.

  Prince Gaelan crossed the room to where a detailed map of Trondhiem hung upon the wall. “Where to start?” He mused looking over the familiar lands of his father’s kingdom.

  “Send messengers to the other houses of the Landsmarch,” Burcott suggested, “Not all of the Lords where at Thorunder, a few may yet be free and will come to your aid.”

  Gaelan nodded in agreement. “We must marshal every man who can swing a blade or bend a bow to our cause. Have them gather here, Carich will be our foothold.”

  “Aye,” Burcott agreed. “This keep will not easily fall.”

  “How do we keep the north lands open should Goliad and Vernal lay siege to Carich? If he bottles us up here we can never gather enough men to rid us of these usurpers.”

  Burcott touched the map resting his forefinger on the name Galtor. “We hold the bridge, the span is the only crossing an army can use. The Rildrun’s waters run fast and deep this time of year. Any force brought against us either crosses the span or circles around lake Valdecar. Those are Lord Hurin’s lands that lay against the Raobahn Mountains. If Goliad’s army attempts that passage they will pay dearly for each foot of ground they traverse.”

  Gaelan could see the wisdom of Burcott’s plan. He was fortunate indeed to have such a seasoned warrior as his advisor. “How many men would holding the bridge require?”

  “One hundred could do it,” Burcott replied. “Send two hundred and it will be as secure as we could make it. Should they come that way the men can hold long enough for us to arrive.”

  “Very well, gather what men and supplies you need and see to it.”

  Burcott pointed to one of the waiting captains. The man straightened and bowed turning to leave.

  “Good luck,” Gaelan offered.

  The guard smiled and touched his fist to his heart in salute. “We will hold the span sire.” He turned on his heel and left the towers hall.

  “From now on this pass is closed,” Gaelan continued after the officer had left. “Trondhiem will remain cut off from the eastern kingdoms.”

  “Can we not call on your uncle in Kesh for aid?” One of assembled men blurted out. He flinched as Burcott shot him a hot look.

  Gaelan shook his head; “If he receives word of my fathers death and believes the lies of Vernal we may have the entire Keshian army at our backs.”

  “Then it is imperative that we reach him first.” Burcott passed the prince a mug of ale. “If our luck is with us we may receive aid in regaining the throne.”

  “Luck,” Gaelan snorted. “Why would it suddenly change?”

  The first war council lasted throughout the night. Plans were made and scrapped as new ideas flitted about the room. Even the most outlandish were considered.

  With the rising sun one hundred and twenty men rode out the gate, each to ride to different parts of the kingdom spreading the call to arms. Two of the riders were tasked with overtaking Lord Hurin and charging him with the defense of the northern lands.

  Gaelan watched the men leave; his room on the fourth floor was afforded a view of the bailey below from a narrow lancet set within the wall. He stood looking out the small opening watching the long shadows of the mountains shrink as the sun climbed high into the sky.

  The grief he felt was a small pang buried deep within him. His sense of duty overwhelming any desire for revenge. “I pray father that I am up to the task set before me.” He said to the empty room as he turned from the narrow opening.

  He fell onto the simple bed and closed his eyes, he lay for hours but sleep would not come easily to his troubled mind.

  Chapter Ten

  Lord Vernal stood within the king’s private audience chamber. The room was dark and cold, far colder than he had ever felt any room in the keep being.

  Goliad paced the chamber in a rage, his passage disturbing the flame of the single candle that offered the only source of light.

  The collar of the formal tunic he wore irritated his neck but he made no move to adjust the offending fabric. In the darkest shadows stood the Morne guards, their golden eyes never leaving him. He shuddered beneath the inhuman gazes, wondering if he would live out the next few moments.

  The brutality the reptilian warriors had shown in the last few hours was beyond comprehension. The halls of the keep were red with the blood of their victims. The same blood lined the broad snouts that poked out from beneath their ebon hoods.

  Goliad slammed his fist down upon the table, startling Vernal. “How many have we captured?” His pale face was uncolored by his rage, His eyes however burned with hatred and loathing.

  “Three of the Landsmarch are in the cells below us.” Vernal spoke softly hoping to quell Goliad’s wrath. “Lords Colven, Lewitt, and Grindorias. Lord Ol’kie was slain when we attempted to apprehend him.”

  “The others?” Goliad prompted him his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

  “Of Lord Deneb there has been no sign, Hurin and Burcott escaped with the prince as you already know. Lord Neros has fled south with a large force of the kings guard.”

  Goliad grunted at the news, “Because of your incompetence four of the most powerful lords are running free.”

  Vernal’s back stiffened at the rebuke. “You have twenty two of the lesser houses,” he said defensively.

  “What of the other eight?” Goliad countered. “You promised all of them?”

  “It was not I who have brought the Morne here.” Vernal spoke his mind, instantly regretting it.

  “Kill the fathers and grant title and lands to the sons, only if they swear fealty to me.”

  Vernal paled his mouth going dry with fear. “That’s a bit drastic,” he stammered. “You will only create more enemies if such a plan is put into motion.”

  Goliad smiled, “Fear is a tool Vernal. I do not seek their love, they will serve me or die.”

  “Wait,” Vernal urged. “We need to gather our forces and strengthen our position here first.”

  “And in that time will not Gaelan do the same?” Goliad replied.

  “He has fled north, seeking out his uncles aid I would guess.” Vernal said growing more confident as Goliad’s rage lessoned.

  Goliad laughed, “I have taken steps to see that Kesh remains within its borders. Their king should be in the nether world with his brother by now.”

  The lengths Goliad would go to gain the throne shocked Vernal. “There are treaties between our lands you simply cannot assassinate their king with out plunging us into war.”

  Goliad sat down, his dark eyes bored into Vernal’s. Harsh and unforgiving they searched the man for weakness. “You would quote the law to me Vernal? Where were your laws the night we slew your king? Or do we just obey the ones that suit our fancy?”

  Vernal had no reply, the fiend before him was correct. He would live out his life knowing he had betrayed every oath he had ever taken.

  “I’ll take your silence as a sign of agreement with me on this matter. You will take your men and round up these fugitives. Leave Prince Gaelan to me.” Goliad motioned to the door with his hand. “Go now before I consider having you replaced.”

  Vernal’s eyes burned with anger but he bowed and stomped from the chamber into the dim corridor beyond. “Go ahead play at being king Goliad.” Vernal muttered beneath his breath. “I will have the throne yet,” he vowed silently.

  Chapter Eleven

  The town of Haven was located on the shores of the Brae River. Its buildings lay hidden from the waterway by a thick screen of trees and a high wooden palisade. A low earthwork surrounded the village, they rode up to it and Connell dismounted mo
tioning for Casius to do the same. They stood there for several minutes when the gates opened and a small group of riders advanced crossing the hundred yards of intervening space cautiously.

  They were hard faced men and bore their weapons in hands well accustomed to their use. The lead rider smiled and exchanged a firm handshake with Connell.

  “Bal’Zar,” Connell said with a smile. “It has been a long time.”

  “Two years,” the man said with a nod towards Casius. “Can he be trusted?”

  “With my life,” Connell said vouching for Casius. “We wont stay long. We need supplies and a warm meal.”

  “You never stay long in any case.” Bal’Zar said with a smile. “Your both welcome to stay in Haven. Any man Connell would speak so highly of is a man I can trust.”

  They remounted and followed the men to the palisade.

  “Bal’Zar we were assaulted last night by something strange. Some creature that I have never encountered or seen the likes of before.”

  “Strange things have a way of showing up in the plains now and then.” The gray haired man said with a shrug. “You look none the worse for it, did you slay it?”

  “Casius did,” Connell answered. “We thought to see it in the daylight but the light of the sun destroyed it, turning it to dust and smoke before our eyes.”

  Bal’Zar looked at him strangely.

  “Tell your people to take care, Bal’Zar.” Connell warned. “This thing was tough as iron, it resembled a thin man with glowing eyes that burned in the darkness. Creeping about on all fours it moved like lightning when it needed.”

  “I’ll spread the word, Connell.” Bal’Zar replied disturbed by the description. “I pray that you have destroyed the only one of its kind in our area.”

  “I do as well,” Casius said. “I hope never to come across another again.”

  They crossed through the gate and dismounted on the barren ground within the shadow of the wall.

  “You have told him of our ways?” Bal’Zar asked Connell.

  “I saw no need,” Connell replied. “It is not within him to violate the laws of Haven.”

  “Whether it is within him or not he must know.” Bal’Zar answered. He looked into Casius’s eyes as he spoke. “Within these walls a mans past is forgotten. You will not draw your weapons unless attacked. Nor will you steal or otherwise cause harm to befall another.

  “This place will not be spoken of nor will you lead another to Haven, secrecy is held dear by all of us and should we ever doubt your ability to keep quite you would never leave this town alive. Connell has vouched for you, do not betray his trust.”

  “I wont,” Casius replied.

  Bal’Zar nodded, “Should Haven come under attack you will come to her defense and stand upon the wall alongside all others who reside here.”

  They led their horses into a large livery, where two boys rushed out to take the reins.

  “Grab your gear,” Bal’Zar prompted. “You can stay beneath my roof this night.”

  “I was looking forward to sharing your fire old friend,” Connell said with a grin.

  “Bah!” Bal’Zar exclaimed. “Your more likely looking forward to my wife’s cooking.”

  “Always,” Connell laughed throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder.

  Bal’Zar’s house was warm and comfortable; his wife greeted them warmly and was genuinely pleased to have the company. They made small talk over cups of tea.

  Casius and I would pay a visit to your smith before he closes shop. We will be gone but a short while.

  Bal’Zar led saw them out. “Don’t miss diner.” He reminded them.

  It was a short walk to the smiths forge. A small building that radiated heat from its open doors. A large man with a bent back stood in the yard whipping his hands with a stained cloth.

  He was broad shouldered with a baldhead that gleamed with sweat. His arms bore many scars, each brand earned in the pursuit of his life’s work. His lined face brightened as he recognized Connell.

  “Its good to see you lad!” He exclaimed.

  “Its good to see you as well Gall,” Connell shoved Casius forward, “This is Casius.”

  Gall nodded in greeting, “I see you still carry the sword I made for you.”

  Connell patted the hilt on his hip. “I have never seen better, you are a master of your craft.”

  Gall laughed, “With a silver tongue like that you must need something.”

  “A sword,” Connell said. “My friend here needs a blade more suited to our lifestyle.”

  Gall looked Casius over; “I may have something for you.” He stepped into the building and returned in a few moments with a long sword in hand.

  “I don’t have much money,” Casius said apologetically as Gall handed him the blade.

  “No one ever does,” Gall said with a sigh prompting Connell to laugh.

  Casius looked the blade over, its mirror like sheen flashed in the afternoon sun. It was a simple sword void of decoration but it was well made and razor sharp.

  “How does it feel?” Gall asked after Casius had taken a few swings with it.

  “A bit heavy but the balance is perfect.”

  “You’ll need to toughen him up a bit before he gets hurt Connell.”

  “We’ve already begun, Gall.” Connell replied taking the blade from Casius. “As fine a blade as a man can ask for,” he said complimenting the smith’s work.

  “I only have two Talens with which to pay you.” Casius offered up the two coins to the man.

  Gall reached out and took one of them. “And that pig sticker you’re wearing as well.”

  “Done,” Casius quickly removed his sword belt and handed the blade over.

  Casius fastened the belt Gall handed him around his waist and slid the new weapon into the scabbard of dark leather. “It fits well but feels somewhat odd.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Connell said. “Just try not to trip over it when you walk.” Connell shook Gall’s hand, “You’re getting soft old man, and you let him get the best of you.”

  “Nonsense,” Gall grunted. “I figure if he’s traveling with you he’s going to need protection. Besides my days venturing are over and I have little need of money.” He led them across the yard away from the forges oppressive heat. “Now what have you done? You never come here unless someone is on your tail.”

  “For some reason a Raider has taken a personal interest in Casius here. The man even bribed the Senatum into capturing him.” Connell explained, “I only helped him to escape.”

  Gall spat, “Damn Raiders!” He handed Casius his gold coin back. “Keep the blade, I can not stand the likes of those men and would aid any man who have run afoul of them.”

  Casius pocketed the coin, “I don’t know what to say Gall. I will cherish the blade.”

  “Don’t cherish anything of its kind Casius.” Gall said, “It is a thing made to kill and maim. Respect it and learn its use and it will defend you.”

  “I will ensure that he does Gall.” Connell said. “Once again you have proven yourself to be an honorable man with a good heart.”

  Gall waved them away, “Go on I’ve got work to do for paying customers,” he said with a grin.

  They returned to Bal’Zar’s house, despite the awkward feeling of the swinging blade upon his hip Casius actually felt taller.

  “You are fortunate,” Connell said as they walked. “Gall has a collection of lesser blades, he could have passed one of them on to you.”

  “Why would a smith of such skill live here in seclusion?”

  “Many years ago Gall had a fair Daughter named Morwen. Her beauty was unmatched; she was a kind and gentle soul without blemish. Gall worked for the king, forging blades used by the Senatum.

  “A Senatum Captain took a fancy to Morwen, he pursued her night and day. Morwen rejected his approaches and the man grew angry, one night in a drunken rage he brutally attacked her. She was beaten so severely that she did not survive the night.
<
br />   “Gall gave in to his rage and slew the Captain as well as the entire garrison that attempted to protect him. Thirteen men lay dead within the guardhouse when he had finished. He fled the capital of Cyndra after setting fire to the guardhouse. For two years he wandered the wild, after his rage had abated he found his way here.” Connell paused at Bal’Zar’s door. “It is only one of the many tragic tales that can be found within this settlement.”

  Casius shook his head; Gall’s tale awakened the grief that he kept buried in his own soul. “So much evil in the world.” It was all he could say.

  “There is much good left as well Casius,” Connell reminded him. “It’s just harder to find these days.”

  Their mood brightened when Connell pulled open the door and the heady aroma of fresh bread and roasted duck greeted them.

  After their meal they sat before the crackling fire until late in the evening. Bal’Zar entertained them with many tales. Casius learned much about Connell that night.

  He learned of the failed uprising that Connell had led in the north. The small army that he had led was not enough to overcome the Senatum. On the Fields of Dal’Entor the full weight of the Kings army crushed the rebellion. They offered no quarter slaying any who opposed the king.

  Connell and a few men escaped into the Nallen wood. They watched helplessly as the Senatum razed the city of Tor. In that battle Connell had stood alone upon a narrow footbridge. He faced ten of the Senatum’s best swordsmen defeating them one by one. His actions had given many men the time needed to flee the field.