Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey

by Steve Windsor

  Trudor was briefly caught off guard but then regrouped.

  “Yes your highness. He was said to be the greatest of reaper soldiers, and a man to be feared in his prime. Each of us in the death class brotherhood learned our combat skills based on his principles in hopes that one day we might approach something in comparison to him. But why mention him now.”

  The king looked at Trudor in a manner that conveyed his shock at his ignorance.

  “How do you meet he who you aspire to be like and not know you are in his presence? You said yourself that he bested you.”

  “You mean Ovar Tardust is...”

  “Baximus. Baximus Bastien.”

  “But I thought he committed suicide in grief after the death of king Rikard and his family, and Baximus’s own wife and child at child birth.”

  “I suppose we were wrong about that as well. The fact that you fell at the edge of his sword and lived to tell the tale has helped salvage your competence Trudor. Now, take me to my daughter’s body. We shall prepare to leave for Gor in a day.

  Trudor nodded. “Yes your highness. Follow me.” Trudor led the king down a set of steps that led into the large courtyard of his palace. They walked across the courtyard to the muted greetings of “long live the king” from the guards and dignitaries who were languishing in the area. Since word of the princess’s death had spread, tension within the city of Alvo had risen. Those closest to king Sidion had kept their distance for fear of attracting the grieving man’s ire. King Sidion ignored their greetings. He and Trudor walked unto one of the side pavements that lined the square shaped courtyard, going on to open a door on the other side of the yard.

  “We prepared her as best we could.” Trudor said, as the king stepped inside. The body of a female form was covered in white linen sheets from head to toe. The king’s face betrayed his grief all over again. His eyes reddened as he walked slowly to the figure’s side, and slowly peeled away the sheet covering her. What he saw, took both he and Trudor completely by surprise.

  “This... can’t be!!” exclaimed Trudor looking at the body as if seeing it for the first time.

  King Sidion sighed in relief.

  “It would seem the princess’s best friend was more resourceful than we thought she was. My daughter is alive.” And there is a chance the blood of Miljorn still lives under my very nose. “Prepare a team! We shall leave for Gor immediately!”

  It was nighttime on the fifth day, and everyone was gathered in the living quarters of Matilom’s underground lair.

  “It would seem we are ready to begin.” Matilom said, as he walked in their midst.

  “Where are we headed?” Davydd asked. “We don’t even know where the gauntlet of Feona might be.”

  “No we don’t.” Matilom replied. “But we know where it last was, and that is the field of brave souls.”

  “But you were by my father’s side as he died. You couldn’t just take it?”

  “No. The gauntlet will only respond to Miljorn blood. Any other mortal who attempts to wear it, loses their soul. However, it seems somebody was able to at least remove the gauntlet from his arm. To do so, would take very strong magic indeed.”

  “You are a wizard are you not? If there is anyone who possesses such power, it is you.”

  Matilom looked down. “Well... yes... but my power was greatly depleted at the time... It has been ever since.”

  “And why is that?” Davydd asked.

  “You need not concern yourself with that. However, I want you to know we did everything in our power to find it. I suspected Sidion Vror of taking the gauntlet, but when we discovered he was searching for it too, that suspicion waned.”

  Matilom turned to Max and nodded his head. He turned back to Davydd as Max gathered everyone around.

  “I will explain everything on the way but we have to go now. Segmiatus awaits us above, with the carriage and horses.” With that Max opened up a huge portal, which immediately transported them to the surface of the forest, where Segmiatus awaited with a two-horse carriage, and three other horses. Davydd walked up to the Angwelethean soldier and clasped his hands around Segmiatus’s.

  “This is where we part ways my friend. Wish me luck.”

  Segmiatus looked at Davydd perplexed.

  “Where we part ways? I’m not going anywhere Davydd. This quest, your quest, is mine too. I’m going with you.”

  “No you’re not. I cannot ask you to risk your life for me. You are too valuable a friend.”

  “And what does that say about your feelings towards your other comrades?” Segmiatus asked with a bit of anger in his voice.

  “Isn’t Ovar too valuable a father? I’m not risking my life just for you the friend. I’m risking my life for the true king of Angweleth, for Angweleth herself and for Terrianus. And after all I’ve heard, and all I’ve witnessed, you can’t expect me to just turn around and go back. We are in this together.”

  Davydd smiled. “Thank you Segmiatus.” He said as he climbed on board the carriage along with Princess Vannera, Ovar and Matilom.

  “Don’t thank me yet till this is over or until I am killed.” Segmiatus said with a laugh. Leo, Sam and Max had also mounted their horses.

  “We are pressed for time.” Sam said. “Segmiatus, we will be heading for Windhaven. Matilom has friends there who can shelter us while we stock up on more supplies for the journey towards the field of brave souls.”

  “Yes sir.” Segmiatus replied.

  Sam made to begin moving, but stopped briefly and turned his horse towards Segmiatus once more.

  “Take heed that my two guardian brothers and I do not trust you as much as Davydd does. If any one of us even suspects that you are a traitor, you’ll be dead before you know it... especially if it’s me.”

  Segmiatus’s skin went pale as he listened to Sam’s words. Then he went red with anger.

  “I would never betray Davydd. He’s like a brother to me. Shall we begin? We need to make ground before dawn.”

  Sam nodded and the journey began.

  Inside the carriage, Davydd looked out through the window at the misty forest, and back in the direction of Gor. He wondered if he’d ever see his home again. He thought about his friends and in his heart he wished them the best until they met again.

  “So, why are we going to Windhaven?” Davydd asked, looking at Matilom.

  “Well... it is a whole day’s ride from here, and we do need supplies for the rest of our journey. Also, I have an old friend there. He will be of great help to us. Are you alright Davydd?”

  Davydd sat in silence for a while. “I... I am hardly ready to shoulder this responsibility. How can I lead a kingdom? How can I lead an army? I... I don’t even know how to fight.”

  “Fighting is not all that is required of a king, Davydd. Though I will admit that in this war, you will have to learn.” Matilom smiled. “Luckily enough, you have some of the best warriors in all of Terrianus to teach you.”

  Davydd looked at Matilom and then at Ovar, before turning to Princess Vannera. They were all giving him reassuring looks.

  “And my people will follow me? What if I am not the leader you say my father was? What if I fail them?”

  Matilom smiled again.

  “My people, you say.”

  Davydd looked back up at Matilom. It dawned on him the phrase he had used.

  “One does not become king in a day young Miljorn.” Matilom continued. “It is a lifetime’s journey. And there will be days such as this one, through all the crests and valleys of your reign, when you will question yourself. But never forget who you are, never lose yourself, and never stop believing.”

  Davydd nodded and rested his head back as he stared out the window of the carriage.

  Matilom looked at him for a little while longer. He evoked memories of Rikard Miljorn. It was an unpolished Rikard Miljorn, but still Rikard nonetheless. He could only imagine the kind of pressure they were putting on him. A few days earlier, his life had been normal if not per
fect. To take all that away, felt cruel. Yet Matilom had to accept the cards that fate had dealt him ever since the day Rikard Miljorn died. If there was any hope of turning the tide of the war, he would have to shape and mold Davydd, as fast as possible.

  Matilom leaned towards Ovar.

  “We do not need to spend more than a full day and night at Windhaven. Once we are there, you can commence his training.”

  Ovar nodded in agreement. It really had begun.

  In the forest concealed by a cover of thick grass growth, a resident of Gor watched the group head in the direction of Windhaven. For a second his eyes and Segmiatus’s met. It was only for a second and then it was gone. The man turned around and headed back towards the town of Gor.

  There was a buzz in the town of Gor. Sidion Vror, the king of Angweleth had arrived that morning and proceeded to turn the entire town on its head. Soldiers on his command, had gone into stores, homes and taverns, in search of the men the town of Gor knew as Ovar and Davydd Tardust. The soldiers beat up anyone who put up even the slightest resistance or were remotely suspected of harboring the two wanted men. All the while, the man who had spied on the group as they left sat in his hut quivering in fear and wondering if and when the soldiers would kick down his door and try to beat answers out of him. As fate would have it, that was not to be. Before the soldiers reached his hut, King Sidion had determined that fear and force were not proving to be effective means of getting what he needed. By evening, a reward had been placed out for the capture of Ovar and Davydd and any other allies they might have. Three hundred gold pieces would be given to the first man or woman to provide useful information about the whereabouts of both men, and five hundred would be given to the man or woman who could aid in their capture directly. The man’s hands trembled at the thought of such money. All he needed to do was tell them what they needed to know and his life would be changed forever. However, many men have been known to fall victim into the trappings of greed and this man was no different. So as quickly as he had decided to share the information he had, he devised a plan to bargain for a larger reward instead. He would withhold what he knew until they had settled on a price higher than five hundred gold pieces. Finally summoning up the courage and putting on a face of dogged determination, the man got up from his creaky wooden chair and made his way outside. He was scruffy and unkempt, wore torn clothes made out of animal skin, and had a couple of bad sores on his hands and legs, which he scratched periodically as he walked. His hair let off a foul stench and looked just as unappealing. As he walked up to the soldiers, they covered their noses and let out condescending remarks. Their facial expressions did not hide their contempt or disgust. Despite the obvious resentment, the man walked on until he approached Farok.

  “I believe I can point you in the right direction of the men you are looking for... that is if the reward is true of course.”

  Farok turned to the unkempt man and flashed a well-practiced friendly smile.

  “Of course the reward is real, if what you tell us is real.”

  Suddenly the smile turned a bit more menacing.

  “Also if what you tell us happens to be a lie... well... there is a reward for that too.”

  The man clutched his trembling right arm with his left arm, as he struggled to regain his composure. By now, more soldiers had gathered around him and were waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “Well I’d like to speak to the king himself. He’s the one looking for the rebels...” The man looked around at the menacing faces staring down at him. “And... and... five hundred gold pieces isn’t enough for what you want. I think... I think... seven hundred is a better offer.” There was a brief moment of silence, and then raucous laughter erupted among the soldiers.

  “You want to bargain with the king?” Farok said laughing throatily.

  “The likes of you shouldn’t even begin to dream of such things happening.” And with that, Farok kicked the man in the chest, sending him crashing to the floor. The action was greeted by another loud round of laughter. However, the man got back up and turned to Trudor, who had been standing and watching him all the while.

  “I... I didn’t want to do this. But I see you need to believe me. The man who bested you was with them.”

  At his words, Trudor unfolded his arms and stormed towards the man. When he got there, he gripped the man by his neck and barked at him.

  “How did you come about this knowledge?”

  “I was there... that night...” The man struggled with his breathing and gestured to Trudor’s right arm. Trudor let go and the man went into a bout of coughing. When he had caught his breath, he continued.

  “Just as I was there a night ago... when I saw them take their leave.”

  “What more do you know? Speak!”

  “Well to tell you more, we need to revisit the topic of the seven hundred pieces of gold I spoke about earlier.” The man could literally taste his personal victory. With seven hundred pieces of gold, he could begin to return to his former glory as a rich merchant plying his trade in the town of Gor. He had met his downfall at the hands of Davydd Tardust and his band of thieves, though at the time he could not prove it.

  What’s wrong with giving the people the illusionary drugs they so craved? He asked himself once more. He would knock out two birds with one stone as it were.

  Trudor smiled. “Of course we do. Come now, let us talk like civilized men, away from prying eyes and curious ears.” The man nodded, and they made their way to the soldiers’ outpost in a small wooden carriage. But instead of heading straight to the security outpost, the carriage deviated from its path and made its way towards a partially hidden cave by the hillside where the outpost stood. Once in there, Trudor violently shoved the man out of the carriage. Inside the cave on a small sized throne, sat king Sidion. Upon seeing Trudor come out of the carriage, he stood up.

  “I ask you to bring me back knowledge of the whereabouts of Ovar and Davydd Tardust and instead you bring me a beggar?”

  “This beggar knows where Ovar and Davydd have gone. However, he remains tight lipped.”

  “Are you sure he is not lying?”

  “I am your highness. He spoke to me in detail of the night I first confronted Baximus. He will not speak because he believes five hundred pieces of gold is too small a reward. He requests seven hundred pieces instead.”

  King Sidion turned his gaze towards the man and addressed him as one would address an unwanted rodent or weed in his farm.

  “I see. I offer you more money than you have probably seen in all your years and instead of repaying my kindness with what I need, you choose to bargain with me.”

  The man trembled in fear.

  “Speak you insolent fool!”

  Despite his trembling, the man remained defiant. The king laughed in amusement at his stubbornness. He nodded to Trudor who picked the man up and placed him on top of a rack, which had been set up next to the king’s makeshift throne.

  “No, no!” The man yelled, as he kicked and thrashed. “What are you doing?”

  “You were given your chance.” Trudor said as he tied the man’s hands together and above the man’s head, to a rope, while his legs were secured to bands that fastened them to the base of the wooden rack. The man was now laid flat and spread out on the rack, with the ropes around his hands and neck connected to a pulley and the legs of a horse.

  Trudor then mounted the horse and waited on King Sidion’s orders.

  “No! Wait! Wait! I...”

  “Pull!” The king yelled. And with that, Trudor rode the horse five steps forward. The ropes pulled the man’s neck and arms a bit taut.

  “Okay wait! They left two nights ago, under the cover of darkness. I believe they were headed in the direction of Windhaven.”

  Trudor turned to look at the king.

  “If we gather the troops in Gor and leave tonight, we can capture them by tomorrow night and bring them back to Alvo for trial.”

  King Sidion leaned forward and
addressed the man writhing in pain on the rack.

  “How many of them were there that left for Windhaven?” The horse was moved two steps forward by Trudor. The man choked and gasped for air as the rope around his neck tightened. His arms were also being stretched, and he felt like they would be ripped from his shoulders at any moment.

  “Ei...Eight of them... Eight o...of them your highness.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’ll... take the five... hundred pieces. I was.... overcome by greed. Absent of mind, I have made a poor judgment. Please spare...”

  “Anything else!!!”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! You... have a traitor in your ranks. A... gah! A soldier was among the group...”

  “And do you happen to know the name of this soldier?”

  “No... no... no... your highness.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t want to lose seven hundred gold pieces over a lie now do you?”

  “I swear on Feona that I have told you...guh! All I know.”

  “Good. Good.”

  “Please... let me go.”

  King Sidion motioned to Trudor, who promptly backed the horse back towards the rack, reducing the tension in the man’s arms and neck. King Sidion walked back and picked up a small sack that had been lying next to his throne. He tossed it on top of the man’s chest.

  “There are one hundred gold pieces in there. If you utter a word of complaint, I will have your head decapitated through this rack. Are you absent of mind towards that now?”

  “No... no your highness.” The man said as he scrambled off the rack.

  “I thank you for your...”

  “Be gone from my sight!”

  The man nodded silently and scrambled out of the cave with the bag, staggering down the hillside as Trudor and King Sidion watched on.

  “Thieves from the town will beat him half dead and steal his money before he reaches home.” Trudor remarked.

  “That may be, but it does not concern us at the moment. Gather your men and tell them we leave at dusk. That way we arrive by cover of the next night.”

  “At once your highness.”