The Sword of Light

by Andrew G. Wood

  Karesh was naturally concerned, and the grown-up Orc he thought he had become suddenly felt like a small child again. Finley could see his brother becoming upset and tried to reassure him that she was well looked after and that they hoped she would recover. “Come on, we can go and see her now,” he added patting Karesh on the back.

  Galdrac tried talking to the troll, although it was quickly evident that communication was not going to be easy. “You’re certainly bigger than I imagined,” the old Mage said looking up at the slightly hunched figure. Noticing the half-staff being carried by the troll, he then inquired as to which magical class he belonged and as to whether many of the trolls had such skills. As to getting any kind of answer though was clearly not going to be easy. Thankfully, Karesh turned and explained the little he had learned, “Akeev, I think is an arcanist. Though I’m not sure he even knows how he manages it,” he added glancing over his shoulder and still striding quickly. “I’ll explain what I know later Galdrac. Just let me check on Mother please,” Karesh asked. While Galdrac would have liked the answers there and then, he was wise enough to know that such matters could wait.

  Chapter 10.

  With the forces of Darkness already running amok amongst the elven communities and amassed outside the Dwarf capital of Durn Raldun, the humans had now also suffered. The attack on Whitebridge may have been small and inconsequential to the war as a whole, but the effect it was already having would only help Abalyon and his forces. Not only was the human King now having to spread his army even thinner, making it a far less competent fighting force, it also ensured the elves and dwarfs did not get any significant support from their long-time allies as a result.

  Moreover, with the Orc clan now tying up Human forces to the south, and the ability for flying balgraf to attack anywhere at any time, the initial part of the war appeared to be going the way of the Darkness. With the races seemingly more divided now than at any time previously, Abalyon knew his chances had never been so good. His one danger still remained in the form of Zerus Maldhor, but he was aware that the more powerful the halfbreed became, the more likely the boy would be swayed to join him. With the youngster’s powers growing, the addiction, the need to want more would soon take hold, and when it did Abalyon would once more take the opportunity to bind him to the forces of Darkness. Once that was achieved there would be nothing that could stop him and the races would all kneel to his glory.

  In Carison, King Willem was clearly feeling the strain of the latest news. The idea that the forces of Darkness had attacked such a remote out of the way village seemed a peculiar choice of target. Whitebridge had no military purpose, nor even any military presence, yet for whatever reason, those living there had been subjected to an aerial attack. While the numbers killed and injured could have been far worse, the fact that almost a dozen people had lost their lives in what was usually a quiet, peaceful village had the king and his advisors puzzled.

  With any village or farmstead now a potential target King Willem knew there was no way he could ever protect all his lands. There was just not enough soldiers or magicians to cover every area. While having garrison towns around his lands did enable him to get help to many parts of the country quite quickly, the speed and ferocity of the attack at Whitebridge had shown that even this was not a great help. By the time aid had reached the village the attackers had already long gone, leaving their trail of destruction behind them.

  The King hoped the answer might lie in militias which he was already helping in setting up around his country. Rather than send his already overstretched soldiers to help defend small and obscure areas of his kingdom, he hoped that these militias would at least give those living there a chance at defending themselves. The only downside to this was the fact he now had to call all able-bodied men from the age of fourteen years, which unfortunately also meant his own son would effectively have to be called up.

  While King Willem hoped to exclude his only son and heir from any such dangers, he knew the prince would at least have been shown to be participating in the war effort. With a conscription already in place taking in extra troops from the capital and major towns, and with local militias being set up to guard the smaller villages, the king realised he had done all he could. Although he had already received word from both the Elven and Dwarf leaders to aid them, he knew he had to protect those nearer to home as a priority. As a result of this, King Willem had managed to muster up a couple of platoons mainly made up of the very elderly or the very young and sent them as a token gesture. Although he was quite aware neither the Dwarfs or Elves would be particularly pleased with his offering, it did at least show he was trying to help.

  Prince James actually felt quite excited and looking forward to finally being involved, although his mother was clearly against the idea of him mixing with the commoners of the city, and his father not really wanting him placed in danger. It was deemed for the best that the young prince, as a competent swordsman and bowman, would take command of his own small group, tasked with the defence of the city. Willem hoped that by limiting the risks and keeping him close with a group that would unlikely be called upon, the young prince would remain as safe as he could keep him.

  Prince James, although only fifteen years of age was duly given his command, and although under normal circumstances this would have contained all new recruits, the king had seen to it that two men from his most trusted Elite Royal Guard just so happened to be among the number. While the Prince was given the command, the official line was that the two men were there to advise and help train the lesser experienced conscripts. King Willem had even tried to hand pick these, but alas the prince had stood firm and wished that he pick his own squad. With little time to argue and arrange anything else, the King had eventually yielded to his son’s wishes.

  As a result, Prince James and his two guards now stood in the very garrison yard he had been supposedly banned from a few days before. The two men assigned to keep him out of trouble were both considered to be trustworthy, but yet both had been out of any recent action for different reasons. The younger of the two men, a man named Jared who was thirty years of age had only just recovered from serious injury and now wore the scar of underestimating a balgraf. If anybody needed any evidence that the foe they were facing was not a dangerous one, then they need look no further than the scars now running across the man’s chest. A permanent reminder that the claws of a balgraf were lethal.

  The second man was much older and had been enjoying his retirement until asked back into service due to the recent troubles. Over fifty years old with grey swept back hair, Leonard not only carried a bow and sword, but also a half-staff, more usually used by their Dwarf allies. The man may not be a powerful mage, but he had certain magical abilities nonetheless, and as such was hoped capable enough to keep the young prince from harm’s way should trouble find him.

  James felt quite nervous as he watched a batch of recruits line up just for their purpose. While it was evident those doing the instructing did not want him there, especially after his little outburst a few days ago, they all did as they were asked. Three such rows of recruits had been assembled in the yard for his selection, all of whom had been at the garrison no more than a week. Not yet given any uniforms, each of the young and not so young men, stood and waited although not certain as to what purpose. As far as they were concerned the young Prince was merely just checking on their progress.

  As James stepped forward, his two guards positioned just behind him, Jared spoke, “I suggest you go for the better-dressed one's Sire. It probably means they come from wealthier families and will likely be less trouble.” James nodded his head as if taking the comment onboard but had already made his own mind up that he was going to pick whoever he wished, and was not going to be influenced by the two men appointed by his father. While he was confident that both of his guards were men of great experience, this was to be his charge, and as a result, he would be the one to make any selection.

  He had already spotted a
familiar face amongst the lines and decided on his first pick. A young man he had helped previously that had seen him intervene and cause what his father had described as ‘unnecessary hassle he did not need’. Finley marched straight up to the youngster in question and pointed him out, “This one,” he said clearly.

  “Are you sure Sire?” he heard the voice of Leonard ask from behind him. James turned and looked the old man in the eye, “Yes I am sure,” he replied firmly. Leonard merely bowed his head a little to show his understanding and immediately asked the boy to step forward and asked him to follow and stand over to one side.

  The youth visibly looked worried, unsure as to why he was being singled out. To help alleviate the boy's fears, Leonard spoke quietly as he walked beside the youth, “Nothing to worry about Lad!” he said.

  “Am I to be punished Sir?” the boy asked.

  “No. All will be explained in time,” Leonard replied taking out a notepad and pencil to write down the details of those selected by the prince. Known as Jacob and sixteen years of age, the scruffy-looking youth had clearly had a hard life.

  With Jared still standing close behind James as he paced along the line, it was apparent those he was looking at were uncertain as to his purpose. He gazed at each, pausing every now to try and judge their character, but to a man, they all kept their gaze lowered, before stopping beside a very nervous looking man with brown curly hair. Thin and quite tall, yet still quite young, James tilted his head just slightly as if doing so made it any easier to make a judgement. “This one!” he said pointing him out to Jared, who went to speak but noticing the young prince’s look decided to keep his opinion to himself. Leonard, now stood over to one side, duly waited with his notebook in hand to take down the lad’s details, writing the name Regan down before making a note of nineteen years of age. While not as bedraggled as the first boy looked, the second choice at least wore clothes that indicated his parents had some money.

  The third was a stocky, strong-looking youth, which Jared actually thought was a good option. Called Jasper and being seventeen, the youngster was the son of a farmer, although the long dark hair tied at the back was evidently something Jared did not approve of. That was then followed by a much younger boy, and someone who Jared thought would not last more than a few seconds if ever it came to a fight. Seamus was just fourteen and had only just arrived that morning due to the change of conscription age in the capital. Son of a merchant it was evident the boy’s family had some wealth, testament to the lad’s quality looking clothes. However, he was small and thinly built and seemed more like a little child compared to some of the others.

  James walked back and forth along the lines looking for one more. He realised he had mainly selected younger people and thought perhaps he might go for somebody who looked a little more experienced in life. The man he chose was a far cry from the others, with a shaved head, scarred face and tattoo on the side of his neck. This was evidently a person who had probably been up to no good at some time during his life, yet James thought him perfect to add to his small group of troops. “This one!” he said turning to see the look of absolute horror on Jared’s face.

  With his last choice made he now had his group of eight, himself included and signalled to the instructors he had finished. Those he had selected now all stood off to one side and would now take up residence in the palace barracks as opposed to those at the main garrison building. First thing on James’ list though was to get each of his new men properly attired, and therefore his first stop would need to be the stores.

  The last man he had picked was certainly not shy in letting his opinions being voiced. In his thirties, Alvin quickly questioned as to the reasons for them being taken away from the garrison. “Where are we going?” he asked quite rudely. James ignored the question, “We will be told in a bit,” Jacob replied remembering what he had been told a little earlier. “I wasn’t asking you,” the man snarled back in response. This time James did intervene, if this were to be his command then he would have to show authority.

  Actually now glad he had two seasoned soldiers at his side he turned to Alvin, “As your fellow soldier just told you, all will be revealed in due course. If you have nothing nice to say, keep quiet.” It was evidently clear that Alvin did not think James any kind of threat and smirked again, “And who are you to tell me what to do? Some jumped up merchant’s son dressed up in his posh clothes?” Although not asked to do so, Jared immediately stepped in front of the young prince, “This is your Commanding Officer, and as such, I suggest you speak your next words very carefully.”

  The two man glared at each other for a few moments, and James was beginning to think perhaps he had chosen badly. However, Jacob stepped between them and suggested that it was probably for the best if Alvin did as was asked. The man looked at the youngster as if pondering the words, before finally doing as had been requested. “Excellent, let’s keep moving then. Come on we have lots to do,” James said trying to lighten the mood a little.

  As they walked, Jacob moved, so he was positioned alongside Alvin. When he thought he might be out of earshot of the others, he leant over and whispered, “I believe that is the prince you were trying to disobey.”

  “Really?” Alvin asked visibly a little shocked. “Oh! Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “I just did,” Jacob replied with a grin.

  “Right yeah! Thanks, Kid I owe you one,” the man replied deciding he might have to be a little more selective on what he said. Making threats to some boy who was supposedly in charge was one thing, doing so to the heir to the throne was likely to see him hanging from a noose; a scenario he did not fancy.

  Chapter 11.

  Karesh was happy to see his mother finally awake and sitting up in bed, although even that was not as much as she was pleased to him. With so much to catch up on Finley and Galdrac had left the two together while they returned to the battlements to check on the forces of Darkness. The balgraf had been camped outside the city for the past few days and barely moved. While this in itself was preferable to them attacking, the lack of movement was causing concern, and the fact that hundreds of guards had to remain on duty around the clock was now starting to take its toll.

  Balin, the Dwarf Commander, had conveyed his concerns to the King, who had agreed to allow the troops to take it in turns to rest, although this evidently meant the battlements were understrength. However, it was hoped by keeping those resting soldiers close at hand, they could be quickly readied should the enemy suddenly decide to make a move. Some extra troops had been sent by the Human king although these were only a few in number and not of good quality. One thing the Dwarfs were thankful for however was the supplies being sent to them via the Waygates from both the Human and Elven rulers, all via Felham. Being as those in Durn Raldun were actually being forced to remain behind their defences, supplies had not been forthcoming from the surrounding farms as they would usually have done.

  As Galdrac stepped out onto the battlements, he gazed out to see the enemy exactly where they had been a few hours earlier when he had last checked. He watched a few of the beasts run off and a few arrive from another direction as if reporting to a leader or commander. If they had one such beast, the old mage was unable to point out which one it might be.

  As Finley moved to stand alongside Galdrac, he thought it as good a time as any to ask about ‘The Sword of Light.'

  The mage turned sharply towards him on hearing the words, “How did you come to learn of that?”

  “Oh I spoke to Eldan, and he mentioned it to me,” Finley replied as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Of course you did,” Galdrac replied rather dryly even chuckling at the thought the youngster was able to communicate with all the gods.

  “So do you know where it is?” Finley asked again realising Galdrac had not actually answered his original question.

  “Not really no. It is rumoured that the sword was given to the King’s of Men and duly passed down from father to son.”<
br />
  “Brilliant! So I need to go to Carison, knock at the palace door and ask if the King has it,” Finley replied thinking he would soon be going on another long trip.

  With a Waygate going from Felham to the capital at least the journey could be a quick one. Moreover, he could send Arach to fly there and meet him and perhaps he could go and inspect the damage and destruction to Whitebridge while he was in that general direction. “Oh Whitebridge has been attacked,” he said remembering he hadn't told Galdrac of that yet. The old mage looked sternly at him, “That’s not welcome news. Yet it would explain why the King is reluctant to send the Dwarfs much help.”

  Turning quickly he started heading straight back down the steps again, “Come on…We need to go to the capital,” he shouted over his shoulder to Finley who was just about to ask where he was going. “What about the fight here?” he asked.

  “What fight? Look we can be in Carison within the hour, I need to try and speak with the king.”

  “Mother is not well enough to travel yet,” Finley said as he hurried quickly to catch Galdrac up.

  “She won’t be coming. Karesh and that troll can stay here with her. We won't be gone long.”

  “At least let me go and tell her we’re going then,” Finley asked struggling to keep pace. Although Galdrac looked annoyed at having to make a detour again, he readily agreed to the request.