A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind)

by Stanton III, Guy

  The entire castle area imparted a feeling of permanence to my new home that was a combination of many things; the formidable strength of the castle fortifications, the strong capable looking soldiers that manned her walls, the wholesome townspeople, who had welcomed me as their own coupled with the beauty of the natural grandeur of the castle’s setting, not to mention the long standing traditions of the place had all played a part in my decision. My arena mates hadn’t left my side since we had arrived. Their slavish loyalty towards me, while it could often be annoying was also heartwarming. They had insisted on having the quarters that were housed in the tall tower off to my left, which butted up against my cliffside quarters. Sinking to my knees I left my hands on the balcony railing in front of me and prayed to my Creator.

  “Dear Creator help me! I’ve made a decision to stay, but I fear that my decision will be in vain, if I do not have Your blessing. With Your help I can do anything. Help me lead these people well in times of peace and war. Please Lord help me be Your faithful servant first and foremost and may I never fail You. All I have is Yours. Use me as You will for Your purposes. Thy will be done and thank you for all that You have richly given me, which is far above anything I could have ever asked for or even dreamed of.”

  I got up from the cold stones of the balcony floor and bidding the moonlit valley one last look I retired to my warm quarters to rest, even though I could have stayed out there all night looking out over the land.

  I walked through the corridors of the castle headed for the hall to which I had been summoned to by my grandfather. The clothes I wore had been delivered to my quarters early this morning and had been accompanied by a note that stated that I needed to come to the chamber that I was headed toward now. As I made my way past servants and guards alike I was the recipient of overly reverent displays of respect. I had to admit that I did feel rather lordly, as I strode through the time worn halls of my forefathers.

  The family crest of arms on the orange tunic I wore was trimmed on the fringes and arms with tanned deer hide. The crest of arms itself was unlike any I had ever seen before. The crest was of a doubled edged sword shining brightly thrust point down into a field of azure blue from which lighting strikes of a fiery gold color radiating out from into the surrounding azure blue sea. The crest was surrounded by a burnt orange backdrop with the words, ‘Keepers of the Word’ written in purple and outlined in silver across the top of the crest. My pants were of a deep purple with silver stripes going up and down them at the sides. It may have been a bit ostentatious, but I liked it.

  I entered the hall where all the hubbub and chatter was coming from figuring that was as good a guess as to my destination as any. When I entered the room full of finely dressed people the chatter immediately stilled. Was I in the wrong room? I kind of hoped that I was and I was about to turn away, when I saw Thaddeus in the glittering throng. He came to my side with a sly smile. What was he up to? He turned to face the crowd of castle lords and their attendants.

  “My fellow lords it is with great joy that I present my grandson and only heir, Roric Ta’lont to you all.”

  Instead of applause at the proclamation I was surprised to see looks of seriousness come over the faces of the finely dressed northern castle lords. They set down their cups and approached one by one to stand quietly before me and Thaddeus. They then knelt down on one knee before me surprising me even further.

  One lord spoke up as a spokesman for the others. “It is with great relief that in these troubled times that the Creator of us all has given his servants a warrior of the house of Ta’lont once again to lead us into the battle fray. We and all that we possess are at your disposal for the great conflict ahead of us all.”

  With that he bowed his head in a show of fealty, which was echoed by the others. I stepped forward and knelt as they had done before me. They looked at me curiously for my strange action.

  “I am but a common man. I have been a slave and now I am a free man. I am not worthy of the honor you bestow on me as your leader, but I accept it. I ask rather than a belief in a man of the house of Ta’lont that we all rise giving our fealty and faith to the Creator of us all, who is able to deliver us from our enemies far above the actions of just one man.”

  The castle lord’s spokesman shook his head wonderingly and said, “Long has it been said that the aspect of humility present in those of the house of Ta’lont has been forever their greatest of strengths.”

  I rose and the castle lords rose with me. I raised my hand in a clenched fist, “Not by might, not by power, but by the Spirit of the Living God will we attain the victory over our enemies.”

  The castle lords in unison repeated my words shaking their fists in the air, while those in the hall around us erupted with applause at the choice of my words. I turned to my grandfather, who leaned heavily on his cane emotion heavy upon his face.

  “The Creator is good to show an old man again the strength and righteousness of my son magnified even greater in the form of my grandson. The blessings of the Creator upon you my son! You have made me a very happy old man!”

  I turned back to the room and the applause that was still going on. How had a farm boy - former arena slave - robber baron come to a position of prestige such as what had been bestowed on me? The Creator’s doing was the only answer to that question. He certainly wasn’t a respecter of persons to have picked someone like me for such honor.

  The castle lords came forward and introduced themselves to me. Their spokesman was Nannarin of Castle Esthol, the other were as follows; Rangold of Castle Ells, Stanith of Castle Rantha, Aenas of Castle Sarta, Kerr of Castle Fidnal, Sasta of Castle Varrow, and Banthus of Castle Erginal. Seven castle Lords in all representing the entire northern side of the Valley Lands.

  Servants brought out trays loaded with delicacies and I was fairly mobbed with questions on tactics, religion and what not, when I would much rather preferred to have sampled the contents of the trays, which were vanishing fast. Such are the trials of leadership I thought to myself, as lord Rangold held onto my arm jabbering out a plan to defeat the entire Zoarinian Empire in a campaign lasting only three months.

  A cloaked figure moved away from a window looking into the hall and started down to a lower section of the wall. This upper section of the wall wasn’t typically put under guard so the spy made his way towards a guard house and the stairs down into the castle grounds that it housed. As he slid into the guard house a strong brown hand seized him from behind. The spy gasped loudly as a sharp blade was shoved between his ribs and twisted.

  The spy slid to the floor dead and Rolf stepped into the morning sunlight with a grim smile on his face. His master’s business would remain his and his alone. He ambled into the hall, not liking the crowd, but understanding the need for it.

  I felt Rolf’s gaze on me and as I looked at him I saw his brief hand gestures. Gestures that told their own story if you knew how to read them.

  I nodded my head in confirmation that I understood and Rolf left the room.

  I was going to have to warn my grandfather about Rolf’s intolerant nature and his tendency for exterminating vermin. I turned and my eyes met Thaddeus’s. He lifted his goblet of spiced wine in a silent toast. He had clearly witnessed the whole exchange and guessed what it had been about. His eyes were twinkling with glee. What exciting times we were all hurtling into it seemed. I shook my head at the irascibleness of the old man. My reprimanding look only seemed to encourage him more. He ambled over to me setting his empty cup down and snatching another from a passing servant while enroute to me.

  “Ahh, the intrigues of court life such as they are. You’ll learn my boy, if you live to be too old for anything physically useful that there’s always the intellectual pursuits of a fine game of chess or cat and mouse if you will for the sure minded. When I lose the ability to play the game of intrigue you have my permission to bury me.” He slurred out drunkenly.

  I took the cup of wine from his hand an
d placed it on a passing servant’s tray as deftly as Thaddeus had snatched it from one earlier. Turning back to Thaddeus I was surprised to already see another goblet of wine in his hand.

  He smiled and said, “Roric I only allow myself excess when excess is manageable.”

  He said it without any hint of the slurring I had detected before. My already considerable respect for my grand sire only increased. It was a valuable lesson to learn. Affectation of a condition of weakness can often deceive a confidant opponent into dismissing an individual’s worthiness and threat as a possible opponent.

  “Rolf said the spy was of our own people and not a Zoarinian.”

  A dark look came over Thaddeus’s formerly cheerful face. It was a look of tired but determined tenacity.

  He looked back at me and said, “Roric, there are many secrets that I keep and many would like to know them. Some of the secrets I keep are as old as our time on this world. I promise I will tell you what you need to know when you need to know it, but I pray that your consciousness remains free of what I and those before me have known and protected our people from for so long. There are those within our own people who would use the secrets that I and others like me protect for their own benefit. Secrets that if unveiled would likely bring about the fall of our people and even perhaps our world.”

  There was a faraway look in his eyes, as he said that and then his eyes refocused on me.

  “You have made me very proud today my boy. All will be well now I’m sure of it.”

  He walked away then suddenly looking very old and I wondered what kind of secrets there could be, as to have such an effect like that on a person.

  Chapter Ten

  Beaten but not Broken

  Krista brushed back the tendrils of curly auburn hair that had fallen across her eyes. The forest was just starting to wake up and it was her favorite time of day. A scattered songbird here and there twirled his good morning song in the cool crisp morning air of the forest. In places the morning fog still hung close to the ground in isolated pockets of the forest.

  Some might have been afraid to tread the mist shrouded forest for fear of what unseen mysteries and dangers the mist might hide, but to her it was as the comforting folds of a warm blanket on a cold night. She had come earlier than usual to the forest this morning to collect the herbs that she and Sansa needed to make the cough medicine they were going to make later in the day. She had to go to town and purchase the alcohol needed for the medicinal tinctures.

  She was not looking forward to that. She never did. She avoided the town and its occupants, as if there was a plague upon the place, but Sansa was too feeble to make the journey any more. Krista knew what awaited her and she couldn’t help but cringe inwardly.

  Later after she had picked the Amarano leaves, the Vantak roots and the Zantar blossoms that they needed for the cough tinctures, she found Sansa by the old kettle in front of the small cottage that she had called home for many years now. She came up to Sansa and sat down the bag of herbs. She leaned forward and kissed the old woman on the head fondly.

  “A watched pot never boils dear Sansa.”

  Sansa looked up and patted Krista’s hand. Krista’s eyebrows quirked up and a smile teased at the corners of her lips.

  “Sansa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Your pot is boiling.”

  “Oh you rascal you! You’ve done it again. Off with you to the town to get the tincture fluid.”

  Krista moved off towards the town with a laugh getting a weak pat on the bottom as she slipped past for her impudence. Krista’s good mood departed as soon as she had lost sight of Sansa.

  The thatched roofs of the village by the river appeared soon, with its cultivated firan cane fields spreading out and around it. Instead of going down the main street she slipped down the back streets trying to keep a low profile and not be noticed. She made it to the general store without being noticed that she was aware of. She made her way to the front of the store on the main street by way of a side alley.

  Mr. Lethergood looked up when he heard the door open and frowned at who he saw there. It was the slave girl that Sansa the healer kept in her employ, as if she was a daughter and not a slave. And what a fine looking slave she was.

  The curious scar that marred the one side of her face did not mar her beauty at all, but instead he had often thought that it gave her a rather exotic appeal. He had watched her change from a thin waif of a girl into the generously curvy young woman that she now was. He had thought about finding out for himself what lay beneath the tattered but respectable clothing she wore more than once, but something about her always stopped him from taking advantage of her. She had the most direct way of looking at him like she could read his mind, which made him feel uneasy.

  He got the distinct feeling that if he ever touched her that somehow someway she would find a way to get back at him. So he had made it a point to touch her with his eyes only and be content with that. She glided up to the front table where he stood. There was nothing slave like in the proud way she held her head up with her shoulders squared back.

  “Can I help you?”

  Mr.Lethergood asked. Mutely the girl handed over a list and he took it from her and studied it. It was the same as usual, some sugar, bread, quite a bit of tincture fluid and some other items. He left the counter to start filling the order making sure to eye up the girl’s emerging womanly figure as he did so.

  Krista stood as still as a stone at the counter as she looked out the window into the street beyond. She could feel Mr. Leathergood’s lustful gaze upon her like an old stained cloak that needed to be washed and beaten dry in the sun or preferably just thrown into the fire in his case.

  One hand gripped the small paring knife that she held tucked in the folds of her dress tightly. She was careful to keep it out of view of the shop owner. She was ready, as she always was for the worst to come out in humanity, men especially.

  Mr. Lethergood finished packing the items together and told her the price. She counted out the coins inwardly proud of herself for the ability to figure and count money, but she let nothing of it show on her face, which remained fixed in a look of cold serenity. She gathered the box up and left the store feeling his unwanted gaze on her swaying hips, as she exited the building.

  The fresh air felt like a revitalizing cool bath after a day of working in the mud as she stepped outside. She swiftly made for the side alley. After she was in the alley she stopped and quickly stuffed the biggest bottles of the tincture fluid down her shirt where the bulk of the bottles were hidden by the woolen coat she wore and the curves of her emerging figure. Making her way to the back alley she hurried down it. She heard a snap behind her and swung to face the sound of the noise. Too late! What she had been hoping to avoid had happened yet again. A group of neighborhood kids had formed. Although they came from poor families they were not of slave lineage. People raised near the bottom of society often take pleasure in lording over someone of lesser importance than even they are such as a slave. They closed in around her. There were five of them, all boys.

  “Give us the box slave and we won’t make it too hard on you.” One said self-confidently.

  Krista shook her head no in defiance and waited for the inevitable. The boys came at her from all sides. She took the brunt of the hits even though she was older and bigger than the boys, but she was dealing out some damage too. One of the boys picked up a piece of wood and wacked her across the back of the head hard making her see stars briefly. She fell to her knees half screaming from the pain of her throbbing head. The boys quickly closed in and started to kick at her.

  Krista’s hand found the knife tucked in her dress and without remorse she drove it through the calf of a leg extended out in the process of hitting her. The boy screamed like a stuck pig and hobbled down the alley screaming for help. Krista got back up to her feet holding the knife out waiting for the next challenger, but the boys had enough.

 
“Quick grab her stuff and let’s get out of here before she sticks another one of us! You’re going to pay for that slave!” Yelled one boy.

  She took a menacing step in his direction and he and his buddies took off down the street with her stuff at a run. After they were out of sight she reached to feel her shirt and see if the glass bottles were still intact. They were. She breathed a sigh of relief. She always bought extra stuff that they didn’t need so that the street boys would think that they had gotten the best of her, when they stole or destroyed her boxed goods.

  She made her way out of the village without any further problems. She neared the little cottage in the woods to find Sansa still sitting by the fire. She tried to straighten her gait to not show the bad limp she had gotten from the fight. She brushed the blood away from her split lip and turned her head to the side and let her curly hair fall forward to block off view of the injury from Sansa.

  “Here you go Sansa.” Krista said setting the bottles of tincture fluid down beside her.

  “I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while. You can go ahead and start the cough medicine without me.”

  She turned toward the cottage, but Sansa’s sudden grip on her arm stopped her. The grip on her arm pulled her back around and an aged finger lifted her chin up and brushed her red curls off to the side.

  “Oh dear child not again! Look at what those hooligans have done to you! That’s it! I’m going to town and having a talk with those boys’ parents and…!”

  “Sansa!”

  Somewhat shocked at Krista’s angry tone of voice Sansa stopped in mid sentence.

  “Sansa, that would do no good and besides I’m a slave in their eyes! This is how slaves are treated! Things are never going to change!”