‘Let me go,’ she cried kicking and shouting in an earnest attempt to extricate herself from whatever dark fate these brigands had in store for her. Tristan felt for her, the terror evident in her voice.
Linea was totally unaware and unable to see Tristan as she had her back to the door. He entered unobserved and nodded to Ogryn who released Linea. Free at last, she hurtled backwards, bowling Tristan over. The pair landed in a heap on the floor. Linea was quick to react, pulling back her hand to strike her newest assailant. Tristan reached out both his arms in protest to shield his face. ‘Linea, stop!’ he shouted, ‘It’s me!’
The familiarity clearly startled Linea who squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the face of the newcomer. As she saw him, tears streamed from her eyes. ‘Tristan, is that you?’ she cried, pushing his hands out of the way to ensure she was not being deceived. As her big brown tear-filled eyes settled on his, she smiled.
Tristan could see the relief and joy spread across her face. Before he could say another word, Linea grabbed his head in both hands and kissed him, a long lingering kiss that set Tristan’s heart on fire. Her love had not diminished in his absence and her grief at his purported passing was readily apparent. Ogryn and Sven slipped quietly from the room, giving the two lovesick sweethearts an opportunity to speak alone.
‘I thought you were dead!’ Linea said, at last breaking the embrace.
‘In truth, I should be- the Wolfs’ attack caught us unprepared; they slaughtered us and burnt Listarii Manor to the ground.’
‘The Wolf?’ Linea asked incredulously. ‘They did this? I was told it was slavers that sacked the Manor. Falen told me...’
‘Falen murdered my father before my very eyes,’ Tristan responded before Linea could finish the sentence. ‘Gerwold and his scheming son have set their eyes on the Golden Throne. My family were merely the first to fall before their ambitions.’
‘That lying sack of manure,’ Linea exclaimed outraged. ‘After you disappeared, we thought you had perished. Falen came to my father and asked for my hand in marriage. With my father so dependent on the Wolf’s favor, he was compelled to agree. I didn’t even have a choice in the matter.’
‘You have a choice now,’ Tristan answered.
‘You, you … a thousand times you,’ Linea answered happily.
‘If you come with me I cannot promise you a life of luxury, the world where I am Lord of Listarii lies in ashes.’
‘If I am with you, prince or pauper, I’ll be happy... I love you,’ she stammered out nervously.
The words he’d often hoped for, but never heard, caught him off guard. ‘And I love you, since the first moment I saw you,’ he declared affectionately. Linea sprang forward to embrace him again, and grabbing her in his arms, Tristan whispered in her ear. ‘I would spend an eternity with you right here in this very room, but the Wolf are tearing the city apart to find you so we must be away from here at once.’
Tristan took Linea by the arm and led her deeper into the catacombs beneath Belnair. ‘After you see where we are going, you may wish that Ogryn had left you in that comfortable carriage.’
‘Enough excuses, Tristan. I can cope - show me the way.’
Smiling at her resilience, Tristan squeezed her hand to reassure her before entering the narrow passage. In spite of the darkness, Tristan felt buoyed on by a lightness of spirit that he had long been missing.
Chapter 13
Inside the Black Iron Keep of the Wolf.
‘What do you mean she was taken?’ Falen’s voice thundered through the ears of the hapless sergeant. ‘All you had to do was escort her safely from her home to the Keep and you let some... street thugs kill your men and steal my future bride. I have half a mind to throw you through that window. Your incompetence is overwhelming.’
‘My Lord, they were no simple street thugs. It was an organized assault. They knew we were coming.’ The sergeant tried in vain to reason with the irate youth.
‘So what if they knew you were coming! You had two dozen guards yet you alone survived your... incompetence.’
A voice from the centre of the room broke through the tirade, ‘Easy, Falen, Jearus has served us faithfully all his years.’
‘Perhaps that’s the problem, Father, much work has made him weary.’
‘That’s enough, Falen! Sit down!’ The command shook the room and all eyes turned to the source. Gerwold, Baron of Belnair was on his feet-at over six feet tall - he was a giant among men. Bedecked in well-oiled chainmail, the glint of which offered a stark contrast to his dark hair and weathered face. His muscular physique and well-tanned skin spoke of hours spent drilling in the sun amongst his men. His hand came to rest on the hilt of the Ancestral Sword of the Wolf, resting as it always did, in a scabbard at his hip. The room fell silent for fear that his displeasure would soon turn to wrath.
Speaking again, he turned to Falen. ‘You will not rule these lands as a petulant child, Falen. Two dozen of our men died today. Jearus has drilled those men since they were no more than children. No one mourns their loss as he does. Isn’t that right, Jearus?’
‘Yes, Milord. Scoundrels they were, everyone of them...but they were my scoundrels and loyal to our house. Show me the dogs responsible and I’ll see them dead.’
‘Precisely what I had in mind, Jearus. From today your service must take a different form.’ Gerwold paused as he pondered. ‘There is something amiss in Belnair; this fighting today and the grain shortage despite a plenteous harvest. Someone is breeding unrest and discontent in my city. We must find this cancer and cut it out before it infects all we have built. Armies can be crushed, but these shadows must be given form before we can do so. Jearus, I need you to find them - others will attend to your duties here. You are to find them and bring me word.’
‘It will be my pleasure, Milord. May I be excused to make preparations?’
Gerwold nodded and Jearus hastened out of the room.
The Baron turned his steely gaze upon his son, ‘I hope you have learned something today. You would have punished him for his failure and lost another soldier; instead he seeks to redeem himself. At worst, he’ll accomplish nothing. However, if we are lucky he will find something with which we can work to crush this new foe.’
‘I understand,’ Falen answered in subdued tones. ‘I will strive to master my temper, Father, and not disappoint you.’
‘Indeed, our plans are bearing fruit. Listarii has been laid waste. Mizumura and Fordham will likely side with us in the coming conflict. The King’s Council that rules at King’s Court will most certainly throw their weight against us, but that should matter little. The old capitol will not yield its position of power without conflict. The most important question is will they stand alone or will the Tanamere and Sisaron stand with them.’
‘You are talking civil war, Father. Valaarans have not fought each other in hundreds of years.’
‘It will only come to that if we cannot amass sufficient strength. If we can compel them to cede the ground peacefully, we will gain the Golden Throne without battle. To do so though, we must tilt the scales in our favor. Our loss today may provide the perfect opportunity.’
‘What do you mean?’ Falen asked hesitantly.
‘With Linea taken, you will yet need a wife.’
‘You seem to have given up hope already, Father. We may yet find her.’
‘I hate to disappoint you, Son, but the carefully calculated execution of her kidnapping and complete lack of ransom demands leads me to believe whoever took her has other plans. I doubt you will ever see her again.’
Falen’s face flushed with rage; finally free of the whelp Tristan, he had expected Linea to finally be his. Denied her once more, his blood was positively boiling.
The strain of the past few weeks was beginning to take its toll. Killing Marcus had shaken his nerves. This wasn’t some bandit killed in self-defense. No amount of denying it could salve his conscience; guilt had opened a festering wound in his soul and the subs
equent loss of Linea was pouring salt in the still-open wound.
‘Falen,’ his father’s voice shook him from his reflections. ‘There are more women than one in this world. When the appropriate time for mourning has lapsed, I would suggest you seek out from amongst the daughters of the western barons, a companion to court. Perhaps from the ashes of tragedy, a seed of opportunity may flower.’
Chapter 14
Deep below the surface of Belnair.
There was an air of jubilation that seemed to permeate the guild. Recent harassment of the Wolf had proven wildly successful. Not only had Linea been snatched from their clutches, the Guild had staged several successful raids against guard posts throughout the barony, burning them to the ground under the cover of darkness.
As success grew, the ranks of the guild were swelling with eager recruits - the prospect of three square meals a day and the chance to bring down the Wolf was proving very inviting to the common folk of Belnair.
With the rise in new recruits, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the Guild’s location and true intent from the Wolf. As recruitment became more brazen it was also becoming more likely their ranks could be infiltrated by Wolves in sheep’s clothing. To insulate against these threats, newer recruits that had no one to vouch for them were trained and housed in makeshift camps throughout the woods around the now abandoned Listarii Manor.
Tristan sighed -it seemed inevitable that they would be discovered as they sought to build their strength. The recruits from the old Listarii Manor Guard had swollen their ranks considerably, but on the open field they would still be vastly outnumbered by the Wolf who were wasting no time in consolidating their own power, the Wolf alone were a terrible foe. The thought of their forces combined with any of the other Baronies was an obstacle that seemed insurmountable.
Tristan made a mental note to discuss it further with Sven. ‘I must know what they are up to,’ Tristan mused to himself, ‘Gerwold will not sit idly by whilst we raise hell beneath their eyes. Better I find out their game so I can spoil it.’
Tristan made his way into the Training Hall. Its grandeur always took his breath away. For such an edifice to be carved out underneath a town the size of Belnair would have been a monumental undertaking. Ferebour and his army of masons must have been working tirelessly for years to accomplish such a task.
The hall stretched hundreds of meters in any direction, the weight of the world above supported by a sea of pillars. Each pillar had been fashioned out of the rough rock and fashioned into beautifully smooth columns of polished stone.
Tristan entered from the raised gallery- it afforded a vantage point where the leaders of the Guild could observe the training of the men below. Spotting Halmir leaning against the edge, Tristan made his way over.
‘Greetings, Halmir! How goes the morning training?’ As Tristan approached the edge of the gallery, he could see hundreds of men paired off in groups dueling throughout the hall. Others still waited their turn patiently, sizing up their prospective opponents.
‘It goes well, Tristan -better than our wildest dreams. The veterans from Listarii are providing a sturdy foundation to build on, as well as giving us many officers capable of training the raw recruits.’
‘Excellent! It is as we hoped then? Ezras has been successful in recruiting them to the cause?’ Tristan inquired. He had not seen the carousing member of the council since he had left on his assignment months before.
‘At the mention of your name, Tristan, they came from all quarters; still more trickle in from day to day.’
Excellent. Tristan thought. It bought warmth to his soul to know that even with Listarii in ashes his father’s memory was not soon forgotten.
Tristan leaned forward on the balcony rail observing the men below. His eyes settled on some of the nearby combatants. A younger Listarii guardsman Tristan had known since his youth was dueling against a man many years his senior. The guardsman was relentless, but his opponent was wily and experienced.
As he tired, the guardsmen made a disemboweling thrust towards his opponent, the practice sword made it within a few inches of the wily veteran before he smacked the blade away. A moment later his own blade returned swiftly to the guardsman’s neck. Both arms came up, the universal sign of surrender. The veteran gave the younger soldier a slap on the shoulder for consolation and sent him after his sword.
Tristan pointed at the swordsman. ‘Halmir, who is he? I haven’t seen him before.’
‘Some sword –for- sale named Jearus - came in with the last lot of Listarii a few days ago.’
‘Well, he’s certainly not Listarii. I’ve never seen him before.’
‘I guess we’ll have to ask Ezras, he returned late last night. When he’s cleaned up I’ll send him to speak with you about our friend. We’ll see what we can find out.’
‘No, I’ll go and speak with him at once; our friend is a career soldier, I feel like I’ve seen him before. I must make sure he’s not a Wolf...before he learns too much.’
Tristan turned to leave, thoughts rushing through his mind. He had understood the risks of expanding the guild’s recruitment efforts. It would be impossible for them to go undetected for long, but was it really possible that a Wolf spy had infiltrated their stronghold so readily. The thought made him sick to his stomach.
He did not want to believe such was possible, but the evidence was before them. These new recruits must be regarded with caution, on the one hand he could be entirely innocent and loyal to the values he espoused. On the other he could be preparing to bring the wrath of the Wolf down upon their burgeoning resistance. Tristan picked up the pace moving through the labyrinthine corridors beneath Belnair. It occurred to Tristan that he had never been to Ezras’s quarters. Stopping a nearby staff man, Tristan inquired as to where he would find the carousing council member’s chambers.
Following the directions Tristan found himself before a heavily reinforced wooden door. Tristan rapped loudly on the door wondering if Ezras would even be awake yet. Ezras’s love for liquors was legendary and it was very likely that he’d still be sleeping off the previous night’s festivities.
A groan and a heavy series of footsteps from behind the door greeted Tristan’s knocking and a moment later the heavy wooden door swung open revealing a very weary Ezras and an assortment of work benches scattered throughout the cavernous room. ‘Ah, Tristan,’ Ezras mumbled in his heavy accent rubbing the sleep from his eyes, ‘What brings you all the way down here at this ungodly hour?’
‘Ezras, you scoundrel, it’s almost midday.’ Tristan grinned.
‘Midday it might be, but I only finished up at the Land’s Head Tavern a few hours ago, and before you say a word there were more than a few potential recruits there I’ll have you know.’
‘I imagine you shared a pint with every one of them, Ezras,’ Tristan responded cheekily.
Ezras laughed too, ‘That I did, lad, and a fine brew it was too, straight from the fine Vintners of King’s Court, I’d have drained the barrel if they’d given me the chance.’
‘I’m sure you would have, Ezras, and you’d have done us proud in the attempt, the reason I’ve interrupted your slumber is that I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with you. These new recruits how certain are we of their loyalty? The reason I ask is today I saw a new recruit whom I am certain I have seen before amongst the garrison. Do you think it possible for the Wolf to slip in amongst our recruits?
‘I suppose it’s possible, Tristan. I spent most of my time amongst the other Baronies particularly Listarii, those souls should largely be loyal to you. There were a few who I met along the way who seemed capable enough so I bought them along as well. I suppose it’s possible that an agent of the Wolf slipped in amongst them.’ Ezras seemed to be racking his memory as he responded.
‘I was in the training hall this morning and one fellow in particular caught my eye, a career soldier, very capable with a sword. Halmir seems to think he came in with the last group of Listarii ve
terans but I know he never took service with us. I was wondering if you knew anything else about him.’
‘Could you describe him for me?’
‘He was an average height, with brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard and the leathery sun worn skin of someone who has spent most of their time under the sun.’
‘Came in about the same time as the last lot of Listarii, you say? I think I know the fellow you are talking about. I met him at the Lands End tavern outside of Belnair -it’s a popular haunt for sailors from Belnair on their way back from the capitol. He mentioned that he’d been working ships out of King’s Court all his life, fighting pirates and slavers and was now seeking a different sort of work,
‘What did you think of his story, Ezras?
‘Hmm, seemed to ring true enough at the time, but now that you mention it, I’ve drunk with many a sailor through the years and none of them were as up tight as this Jearus fellow.’
‘It’s the military discipline, a lifetime of habit is hard to break. Jearus you say?’
‘Aye that is the name he gave me.’
‘Could you keep an eye on him for me, Ezras? I want to know if he does anything suspicious.’
‘Sure thing, lad, you figure him for a spy?’
‘I could be wrong, but something about him doesn’t sit right. In the meantime, any other recruits should be housed in the camps, at least for the time being. I want to limit our exposure to these sorts of intrusions.’
‘Easily done. I’ll make the changes myself. Is there anything else I can help you with?’
Tristan cast his eyes around the workshop, surveying the vast laboratory that Ezras had built; even now several of the beakers had suspicious substances boiling away in them. Turning to answer Ezras, Tristan smiled and answered the question with one of his own.
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