by David Pauly
'Peace, Lord,' said the retired soldier as he extended a fresh crystal goblet of the excellent Chilton wine. Momentarily, Alfrahil was lost in the deep plum color of the wine, of the odor of black cherries and leather that emanated from its surface. Taking a sip of the wine, Alfrahil noted the richness and feel of the wine, and it helped break his spell of despair.
'Aye, lad,' muttered the old soldier, 'now you can see what haunts us all, be it an ambush here in the City or one out in the desert wastes. I heard your tale and talked to those that saw the final ambush. There was nothing you could do once the trap was sprung but save yourself and as many of your men that you could, for it was cunningly laid.'
Alfrahil heard these honest words. In a louder voice than he thought he could manage, Alfrahil said, 'Thank you, soldier. What is your name?'
'I am Aradar, my Lord, servant of the King.'
'What rank did you hold in the army?'
'Army, Sire? Nay, I was a desert scout, Lord, leading a patrol of regular army when we were ambushed.'
'How did it happen, Aradar?'
'The young lieutenant wanted to go down a small wash, as he thought it would be easier to follow than to ride along the top of the river bank,' said Aradar.
'You disagreed, I take it,' said Alfrahil.
'Yes, Lord, for the banks were two fathoms high and broken with sand and stone. Once you are in there, you are not easily seen, it is true, but you cannot get out. I told him this, but as I was a scout and not regular army, he overruled my recommendation and insisted on taking his men in there. Several of his soldiers knew I spoke the truth and tried to speak to their lieutenant, but he bade them be silent and follow him.'
'What happened, Aradar?'
'Well, Lord, we were allowed to proceed about five leagues before the bandits struck. Suddenly there were arrows from all sides. Boulders rolled down in a narrow place fore and aft, and we were completely cut off. Some men tried to get their horses up the banks, but they were too steep. Others tried to jump the barriers. One succeeded and rode for help. The rest of us took cover under and behind the bodies of our horses, for none of them survived the first few minutes. Half the men were dead already, including that lieutenant.' Aradar coughed and spat into his handkerchief before continuing. 'He took an arrow through his eye. The rest were wounded. We fought as well as we could, dropping several of them, but there were fifty of them and only forty of us to start, and they had the high ground. When they charged in, we killed at least twenty, but our numbers steadily dwindled until only seven of us were left alive. They then used clubs to disarm the rest of us. I lay there, Lord, with three arrows in my body, praying for death. The bandits then began torturing the rest of the wounded. Their screams and pleas for mercy went on for hours, well through the night. Finally, Lord, I was the only one left alive, and they came for me. I had an arrow in the side of my chest, and one of the filthy scum grabbed the fletching and started wiggling it about. I am not ashamed to say that I screamed aloud, Lord, for the pain was unbearable.
'At that moment, the sounds of distant horses came as if in a dream. The bandits abandoned me and began scrambling up the bank, preparing to disappear into the wilderness. I heard later that it was a Kozaki that was in charge of the reinforcing company, and he led his cavalry along both sides of the wash, with only a small rear guard following behind. Proper formation, too, flanking the bandits and turning them back into the trap that had been set for us. That fool of a lieutenant knew nothing; just came from a rich family.'
Alfrahil was surprised at the venom in his voice, but Aradar seemed to collect himself and went on with his tale.
'None of the bandits escaped, Lord, and we left their bodies there to rot under the desert sun.'
'What happened to you afterwards?' asked Alfrahil.
'I was returned more dead than alive to our camp, and the healers managed to staunch my wounds and bandage me well enough so I could be moved in a wagon with other wounded back to the oasis,' replied Aradar. 'When I returned I learned that I had to leave the scouts, as I was no longer fit for duty. But I had no job, Lord, no skills but soldiering, which I couldn't do no more. So, I was part of the veterans you see in the streets trying to find some kind of work, scrounging and begging when necessary, doing the scut work that others didn't want to do. Some nights I could barely walk home from the heavy labor to earn some bread and maybe a glass of beer.'
Again the flash of anger flitted across Aradar's face, but the mask of composure rapidly restored itself.
'It was then that the King's ministers opened up jobs for injured veterans to serve the King. Serving drinks, my Lord, I never would have guessed the like for me, but I am grateful for the chance to work,' he said with a bitter smile.
Hearing the murmurs of the other guardsmen, Alfrahil said, 'Well said, Aradar. I see that I am not alone in fighting my personal battles against the fear and memories that do not die easily. I hope that soon we can do more for you and for others who have made such great sacrifices.'
'Thank you, Lord, and forgive me for speaking out of turn, but you looked as if you were still out there even though you are safe in here,' said Aradar.
'I was,' said Alfrahil. 'I was.'
'Yes, Lord, and if you are like the rest of us, you will find yourself out there again and again, especially in your dreams. Try to make peace with it, Lord, before it gets a hold of you permanent like. I wish I had been able to make peace with my burdens, both then and now.' Turning to go on his way, he walked with the rolling, staggered gait of a man who had been wounded too deeply in body and spirit to move quickly.
Shortly afterward, Alfrahil bade the men goodnight and walked through the door to the stairwell of the tower, up to his room.
CHAPTER SIX: DAERAHIL
Daerahil rode steadily across Sisera in the morning light. A cool wind from the north blew across the interior of Eldora, south toward the river. Lulled by the thud of hooves and the creaking of a worn leather saddle, Daerahil found himself contemplating his escort.
Accompanying him was his best friend, Hardacil, and an escort of ten guards. Hardacil was fifty years old, from the Delta region of Eldora. To escape a life of boring drudgery, he, like his father before him, had enlisted in the army at eighteen. Tall but thin from years of riding to foreign commands, his plain peasant face was deeply tanned from his time in the desert. A thin, constant stubble covered his face in clear violation of army regulations. Hardacil was not just a common soldier, though he had begun that way. He was Daerahil's aide-de-camp, the highest rank an enlisted soldier could achieve in the army.
The two men had been friends for years, ever since Hardacil, a sergeant with over ten years of service, had been forced to suffer under the command of Daerahil, a brand-new lieutenant fresh from officers' school.
Daerahil's first command had hardly been a glorious one: just a simple platoon of soldiers and a sergeant who vexed the prince severely. This sergeant, Hardacil, was a grizzled veteran in his early thirties who had been on the Shardan front or in occupied Shardan for over a dozen years. Seeing that his new commander was a brilliant shade of green as a new officer, he had offered what were meant to be helpful hints and thoughts. After the first few comments and suggestions, Daerahil had ordered him to keep silent. Shortly thereafter, Daerahil had blundered badly about the disposition of the men during the night, and two of them had been wounded when local skirmishers snuck close to their picket line. After that incident, Daerahil had privately apologized to Hardacil and asked him to speak freely and not keep silent in the future.
Over the next few months, he had found Hardacil to be indispensable, not only for his experience and advice, but for his undying loyalty. Twice during the past twenty years, Daerahil had tried to promote him to an officer, but both times Hardacil had politely declined, stating that he only wanted to serve the Prince, and the burden of an officer's rank would take away from his duties. Compromising, Daerahil had made him an aide-de-camp, answerable only to Daerahil. And thou
gh he had been unable to promote Hardacil, he had ordered that Hardacil's father's official rank on the retired list be increased from corporal to senior sergeant, nearly doubling his retirement pay and giving him two acres of farmland in the Delta, making the elderly man's last few years of retirement much more comfortable. Now they rode together to Prince Paladir's realm as Daerahil pondered the nature of the emergency that Paladir had alluded to in his message.
Crossing the last of the outlands, Daerahil paid scant heed to the farms and houses that had sprung up in the past few years. The squalor of the squatter camps of various refugees, their families, and camp followers disturbed him, but there was little he could do. Sadly, Daerahil had long realized that while some men were meant to rule the world and dictate its course, others were meant to follow.
Daerahil's mind wandered to the past, six years ago, when on leave, and he remembered receiving the deed to a large estate from Zarthir and partial financial interest in a joy house in the Fifteenth District. Daerahil had first gone there with Zarthir, who had wanted to show Daerahil a nice time. After too many glasses of wine at the Dusty Cloak, they had taken their horses and ridden down to the Fifteenth District. There the party continued, and Daerahil had soon ascended the stairs with a Shardan lass. Hala was her name; just over eighteen but already quite talented, and Daerahil enjoyed her thoroughly.
Rising late in the morning, Daerahil noted the girl was gone and that his breakfast was waiting. Rapidly dressing and preparing to leave the house, he found Zarthir waiting downstairs, looking rather smug.
'My Lord Prince, how did you enjoy your night?' asked Zarthir.
Smiling despite his condition, he replied, 'It was quite satisfactory, Zarthir, but it is now time for me to depart.'
'Perhaps, Lord, I could call upon you at a later time, for I have a business proposition for you,' said Zarthir.
Agreeing hastily, Daerahil wanted to only leave, have a bath, and return to the Citadel, where he could keep an eye on his brother and his father's scheming ministers. But later that night, he found himself missing female companionship and reluctantly traveled to the joy house again. He went again the next night.
Zarthir found him there and, handing him a deed to a large farm area, said, 'It is yours, my Prince. I hope that you profit from it.'
'What do you want in exchange, Zarthir? I hope that you are not trying to bribe me.'
'No, Lord, I thought that this farm's profits could be used to aid the veterans groups, but this time the money will be transferred secretly to aid those men, without your father or Mergin's interference.'
Daerahil, thinking that he could do some good for the men and their families, acquiesced; telling Zarthir clearly that this was for the benefit of his men, not for himself. Zarthir agreed, and over the next several weeks made a concerted effort to win the Prince's favor, providing Daerahil with many other business opportunities, making certain that the Prince's profits reached his charity groups in a timely manner.
Zarthir also introduced him to other like-minded men of the City who wanted to worm their way into the counsel of the King and thereby acquire the necessary influence to make them, richer and more powerful. Over the next three and a half years, even when Daerahil was in Shardan this financial relationship expanded along with their friendship, for Zarthir was privy to secret information. Daerahil began to enjoy some of the profits directly, refusing to think of them as bribes but instead as well-deserved rewards for all the years he had spent in the desert, defending the kingdom.
Daerahil was only allowed two weeks leave out of every six months, and he spent much of the time with Zarthir during the day and with Hala at night, having as little as possible to do with his prissy brother and overbearing father. His enjoyment of Hala rapidly increased to the point where he no longer wished to have her shared by other men and arranged through Zarthir to buy out her contract, placing her in an apartment near the original joy house and employing retired soldiers to guard her around the clock. Eventually, he found that he could talk of things to Hala that he could discuss with no other. While she rarely understood all of the subtleties or conditions that went into his very existence and relations with others, she never judged him, listening patiently and occasionally offering some advice based in common sense rather than political skill. Within three years, Daerahil's heart was given to her totally and completely.
He knew that it was socially impossible for him to love her, but he did nonetheless, in passionate disregard of the reality of politics in the Citadel. Every time he thought of his father and what he would do if he found out that his son was in love with a Shardan prostitute, he shuddered and spent more money in bribes and favors to keep this relationship completely hidden. Wanting to help her as much as possible, he had even hired the best lawyer to smooth out Hala’s path to become an Eldoran citizen. Now, fresh with the knowledge from his brother that Mergin was aware of Hala, Daerahil knew he must spend vast sums to have Hala's citizenship granted with great alacrity before Mergin could persecute her as a foreigner.
Many hours later, Daerahil saw the greens hills of Prince Paladir's fiefdom rising in front of him. The horses slowed their pace as they embarked upon the road that began to spiral above the woodlands, winding their way through thick and verdant forest. Soon the fragrance of the flowers that clung to the river cliffs began to waft around them, faint at first and then greater as their loop of the road took them along the eastern side of the hills. Now over three hundred feet above the plain Daerahil saw the vale of Aphon laid out before him. While this view was quite impressive, it was not nearly as magnificent as the view from the Prince's keep. Daerahil, wanting to spare the mounts, slowed his horse to a walk and gestured for his guards to do the same. While it was not a long climb in terms of distance, the road rose steeply to its final height some twelve hundred feet above the river. Daerahil loved his horse and did not want him to become winded on the way up.
Hardacil remarked upon the view from the road. 'As many times as I have come here with you, Lord, I never tire of it.'
'Many times indeed,' replied Daerahil. 'How the years have passed.'
Daerahil remained silent as they rounded the final turn and rode to the open gates of the keep, which lay before them. Gardens for vegetables and fruit surrounded the keep, filling out the hilltop to its farthest edges. A small shed for chickens and milk cows was nearby, crowding next to the horse stables. The afternoon sun shone on the single tower of the keep rising sixty feet above the hilltop, completing the picture of a heavily fortified manor house rather than a traditional watchtower. Over a thousand years ago a small but important watchtower had been ensconced upon this hilltop, manned by the men of Eldora in the beginning of the realm. As the centuries passed, it had fallen into disrepair, essentially abandoned as the realm of Eldora spread far and wide. In later years the kings of Eldora had repaired part of it, as the tower had a commanding view of the river and of south Ackerlea. After the end of the Great War, the surviving watchtower was restored and enlarged, transforming it into a keep of a modest size.
The battlements were only twenty feet high and would only withstand a modest assault, but still it would hold out long enough to, hopefully, get a messenger to the City if attacked. The road and the defenses along the side of the road would deny almost any enemy for the better part of a day, perhaps two. Daerahil knew, as very few of the military men in Eldora did, that there were steep narrow trails laid into the eastern side of the hills that would swiftly allow messengers to descend to the forests of Ackerlea. He had heard tell that there was one dire path along the western cliffs that led to the marshes below. Daerahil mentally shuddered at the thought of descending those steep cliffs comprised of soft limestone that crumbled underfoot. Only fragrant flowers were at home there, spreading their beautiful scent upon the breeze.
Now, as he approached the keep, guards wearing the silver and white of the Prince of Ackerlea sprang to life before him.
'Hail, Lord Daerahil, Prince of the
realm. Welcome to Nen Brynn,' said the sergeant of the guards formally.
'Hail and well met,' cried Daerahil. 'Where is Prince Paladir? I am here at his request.'
A slightly quizzical expression crossed the sergeant's face, and he told the fleetest of his men to find the Prince.
'Please enter, Lord, and let us stable your horses while you wait for my Lord Prince,' said the sergeant.
'Thank you, Sergeant,' replied Daerahil. 'Please see to their needs and have your groomsmen rub them down and victual them well, as they have had a hard day's journey here.'
Following a young servant, Daerahil and his ten men made to enter the grounds on foot as custom dictated. The ancient order of the Princes of Ackerlea required all men except the King's war messengers to enter on foot and their horses be stabled outside the walls. There were disused stables within the walls that could be readied in times of war, but it was Prince Paladir's order that the peace and beauty of the keep not be disturbed by the sights, sounds, and odors of horses clattering and neighing within the walls. Daerahil thought this was somewhat ironic given that Paladir surrounded himself with a breed of dogs, known as Seeing Hounds, that, though they barked little and moved with unusual grace, were noted for a peculiar odor.
One of these dogs began walking toward Daerahil, gently stepping on the white gravel pathway that led from the outer wall to the doors of the keep. Daerahil knew that these animals were found in far Hagar; legend had it that they were fleet enough to run down deer. While Daerahil had never seen them at the hunt, they were certainly bred for it: exceedingly tall, long in limb, but deep in chest, with an extended snout that pointed slightly downward. Their bright eyes were constantly scanning the horizon as if perpetually seeking their quarry. Daerahil paused momentarily, admiring the liquid grace that these fleetest of canines exhibited. Moving without a sound over the stones of the courtyard, the tan and white hound came to him with a pleasant if aloof look. Daerahil extended his hand palm up for the dog to sniff. Administering a brief lick, the dog wagged its tail and seemed about to wander off, when it froze suddenly, staring intently at Daerahil's throat.
