17878265

by David

  “I don’t understand-” Loric blurted out, only to be cut off.

  “These men sought to destroy the Blood of Logant, Loric!” Aldric snapped.

  “You mean my father?” Loric questioned in a gasp, his heart feeling elastic within his chest.

  “But why would they seek this?”

  “Now do you understand?” Aldric asked him.

  Loric recovered from his shock and fear. “Who are these wicked lords?” he demanded

  angrily. “They should pay for their crimes!”

  Aldric did not look at Loric. Neither did he acknowledge his strong opinion. “Now is not the time,” he said firmly. Then he changed the subject, promising, “Soon, you will take your oath.

  Afterward you will serve as my squire.”

  “Your squire?” Loric asked, disappointed.

  “To be a squire is your first step on the road to knighthood, and only great lords and noble knights can lay claim to lands and titles,” Aldric explained.

  “Very well,” Loric conceded, his thoughts lingering on revenge best exacted from a seat of lordship. “I will work hard, train hard and so prove my worth to you.”

  Aldric grinned broadly and said, “I am sure you will achieve great things in my service.”

  Opportunity darted through the air in the shape of an incoming spear. The young traveler from Taeglin raised his shield to defend Aldric before the deadly missile could strike him down.

  The weapon scraped paint and dented steel, as it struck with a thump and a jolt and clattered harmlessly to the ground between those two men. Aldric passed his eyes over the fallen spear, before he turned them to the south. Loric followed his gaze to the wriggle of a low-hanging cedar branch from whence the attack had come, but the would-be assassin was gone.

  Loric never took his eyes from those thickly clustered trees surrounding the ominous sway of evergreen, but Aldric dismounted and had a closer look at the spear that had nearly done for his ending. He showed Loric a primitive stone head banded to a knobby wooden shaft and declared, “Bushubu.”

  “What?” Loric questioned, uncertain that he had heard Aldric correctly. “Bushu.... who?”

  “I gather you are unfamiliar with the Bushubu Tribe,” Aldric said, angrily snatching the spear from the ground. He mounted Snowstorm with great urgency, calling, “As a man who is familiar with those beasts, I recommend that you hurry to the front with me. That spearman was sent to deliver a message: his Pactchuku, or Elder King, wants us to know that we are to be attacked and destroyed,” Aldric finished gravely. He called out in warning to his men, “To arms!

  To arms, Soldiers of Egolstadt!” To his horse he cried, “Forward, Snowstorm!”

  Even as Aldric and Loric hastened to rejoin the column ahead of them, a wave of bestial snarls and clashing weapons signaled the start of the onslaught. Surprised soldiers toppled from horses, with their alarmed cries stifled by flint-tipped spears or powerful maws, both of which ripped at vulnerable flesh with equal eagerness. Battle engaged all along the formation. For the length of that marching line, Aldric’s men were staggering backward on their heels, desperate to fend off waylaying Bushubu.

  Loric froze upon taking in his first view of battle. It was every bit as terrifying as his father had warned him it would be. He did not believe he would ever forget the sight of an Egolstadter hanging limp and bloodied upon the spear protruding from his chest. His face was pallid. Blood bubbled upon his contorted lips, poured down his punctured chest. Elsewhere, a boy cried, “Ma.

  I’m sorry, Ma. I’m so sorry.” When Loric caught a glimpse of the boy, there was a full beard upon his face. He was in fact a man grown, hacked off at his knees, so that he pined for his mother like a child for the sake of his wounds.

  Aldric’s loud call of command awakened Loric to duty and honor. He forgot the barbarity and butchery of the fight and let Sunset have the bit. The red stallion pulled alongside Aldric’s white, and together two mounts bore riders into the fray.

  Loric overtook a Bushubu Tribesman mounted atop an Egolstadter’s chest, with its broken spear raised above the man’s throat for the killing jab. The Sword of Logant flashed down and around, finishing in an angry arcing uppercut. Loric’s growl of contempt caused the creature to glance up at its new assailant, just before the blow struck it, giving the young traveler his first startling glimpse of a Bushubu Warrior. Shock did not stay his hand. Neither did it deter him from a follow-up stroke, so that the deep gash in the beast’s woolly chest was soon the lesser of its two injuries, as Loric unburdened it from the weight of its oversized head.

  Bushubu had bulbous heads and sharply clawed feet. Wide yellow eyes were inset above

  their broad pug snouts, and their narrow lips went unnoticed for all of their crooked, jutting fangs. Their ears were lost beneath their shaggy, golden manes, which nearly enveloped their velvety, bronze-colored faces. The beast Loric slew had a half-chewed strip of meat hanging from its jaws, which it had clearly ripped from a human victim during the fight.

  Eager to plant a new image in his mind, Loric dismounted and let his orbs stray to man he had saved from certain death. A pair of blue eyes looked appreciatively into his greens and a confident smile, just as bright as his eyes, replaced the contortions of fright and dread previously displayed upon his countenance. Wild blond braids adorned his head, one of them stopping just short of a scar, high on his left cheek.

  “Nyck?” Loric questioned. “What are you doing here?”

  Loric steadied himself and extended his shield hand, but the stranger from Taggert’s Pub reached to his belt for a dagger with serpentine quickness and sent the weapon end over end past his rescuer. A growl at Loric’s back gurgled into silence, and the Bushubu charging toward him crashed harmlessly to the ground at his heels. He heaved a sigh and looked to thank the Egolstadter. He was gone. “Thanks,” he murmured, turning his attention back to the battle.

  Aldric rallied his men around him. Slowly and steadily, they regained their footing in the fight. Even so, two enemies set upon Loric at the same time. One wielded a short spear. The other came on with a flurry of claws. The young traveler from Taeglin gingerly positioned his shield against the flint-tipped shaft to his left, while he prepared to teach his other foe that steel is harder and sharper than muscle and bone. He caught the beast’s flailing arms with the edge of his sword, one after the other, pulling the blade through in a deep cutting motion upon making contact with the second limb. The injured Bushubu let off an agonized roar. As viciously slashed arms withdrew from the cruel metal that had done them so much hurt, Loric drove the tip of his weapon forward with a mighty thrust. The sharp point of his father’s sword opened a destructive path into the beast’s chest cavity, and the broadening length of steel hastily followed it through the creature’s heart. Unfortunately for Loric, the weight of the collapsing Bushubu ripped the Sword of Logant from his grasp and he teetered precariously close to falling.

  The other attacker snarled, “You’re mine, human!”

  The tribesman poked at Loric’s exposed abdomen, but it was only a feint. With his focus disrupted by the creature’s amazing and unexpected power of speech, the inexperienced fighter bit on the fake. As soon as Loric realized his error, he reset his feet to reverse the direction of his shield and duck beneath the sweeping cut of the spear. The sharp flint at the end of that knobby pole rushed over his turtle-postured cranium with a loud whoop, and the momentum of the weapon carried its overzealous wielder into a listing sideways stance in front of its intended target.

  “No, you are mine,” Loric corrected his foe, delivering a solid shield bash to the toppling savage’s face. The Bushubu’s eyes rolled back as it crashed, telling Loric that his foe no longer presented a threat to Aldric’s company. A look around made it clear that Bushubu Warriors no longer wished to fight. The might of superior armor and weapons had been proven by way of fallen tribesmen, whose broken and bleeding bodies now lined both sides of the Old King’s Way.

 
The Egolstadters let out a roar to chase their retreating foes further into the woods. Loric raised his voice amongst that boisterous brotherhood of survivors. He sighed with relief that it was over, but he could not deny his excitement. It had been a thrill to take part in pitched battle against the Bushubu.

  “You have proven your worth already,” called a familiar voice. It was Aldric. His

  countenance was one of mixed emotions. His grin spoke of grim satisfaction and his love for a good fight, but his eyes glowed with an angry glare that decreed the destruction of those wild savages that had dared bring open battle to a Lord of Beledon. The perplexity that furrowed his brow hinted at some uncertainty, which source was to remain a mystery to Loric and everyone else. “Come,” the Lord of Egolstadt commanded, “we must check on our guests at once. I fear I have been negligent in their defense, but then who expected this wanton attack?”

  The intensity of Aldric’s last words struck Loric hard. He recovered with a gulp and asked,

  “Who indeed, lord?”

  Loric followed Aldric, who issued hasty orders to his subordinates along the way. “Belduin, have the men pile and burn their filthy hides!” he spat. “Nerstlin, set a guard on our flanks.

  Malric, gather our wounded--how I wish Elberon were here. Somebody see to the fallen. We must carry them with us. Has anyone seen Warnyck? Someone find him. There is scouting to do.

  Riders! I need riders dispatched to Lord Garrick and Captain Hauldren at once.”

  Each directive was given and obeyed with utmost haste. The man with the braided blond hair approached, and Aldric sighed, relieved. “Warnyck,” he said, pleased. “I am glad to see that you are well. I need you to select two of our best men to help you track the Bushubu raiders.

  Discover everything you can of their tactics, their deployment and their defenses. This treachery will be repaid, so learn well and report!”

  “Yes, milord,” came Nyck’s eager reply. The scout coaxed his gray mare up on hind legs for show, turned her about and sprang away in the opposite direction.

  Two other riders came to Aldric. To the first man, Aldric said, “Go to Moonriver and tell his lordship what has befallen here.” The messenger sped off northward, and Aldric ordered the second man, “Find Hauldren and warn him of the Bushubu Tribe’s sudden disregard for Lord Garrick’s wrath.” The courier raced away southward to deliver the message.

  When they reached the front of the column, Loric and Aldric were pleased to see that the Bushubu had injured neither the king nor the princess during the attack. In fact, the ruler of Regalsturn was busily cleaning his red-streaked blade. His lovely daughter was tending to a bitten soldier with the same gentleness she had shown Loric. Upon realizing Avalana had shown him no special favor over any other injured fellow, Loric sought a distraction. He looked over the devastation the ferocity of the attack had caused. The trail of wounded and dead suggested that the brunt of the Bushubu assault had come against the middle and rear of the host.

  “There is nothing like a good skirmish to remind people of our station why we have

  attendants to sharpen our weapons and polish our armor,” Avalar commented excitedly. “Would you not agree, Aldric?”

  “Quite right,” the Lord of Egolstadt said heartily, his mouth working hungrily upon his lips.

  Loric decided to follow King Avalar’s lead in wiping blood from his weapon. For the first time he noticed how messy the Sword of Logant was with hair and life fluids. He gulped down the meaning as a pill of necessity, cut a scrap of cloth from a fallen soldier’s cloak and set his rag to work. Aldric extended his sword to his young guest and asked, “Would you be kind enough to tend Judgment as well?”

  “Yes, lord,” Loric replied. “It is a fine name for a fine blade.”

  It was no lie. The weapon was akin to the Sword of Logant, but it had an emerald pommel rather than a diamond. Jagged mountain peaks decorated the cross guard, and rising above them, where the blade met the hilt, there were three emerald-studded towers.

  “Thank you,” Aldric returned.

  Loric volunteered his service to Avalar, suggesting, “It would be no trouble to finish your sword as well, majesty.”

  A condescending smile lit the king’s face, as he shared, “Your offer is appreciated, but to allow you to finish this task would be to rob myself of youthful reminiscences. Therefore, I must decline. Even as I do this, I commit the faces of those uncanny beasts to my memory and attach the name Bushubu to them. It is part of the warrior’s duty, to do this.”

  “As you wish, majesty,” Loric humbly replied.

  “My dear king,” Aldric addressed Avalar, “I would contend that battles themselves help the warrior to remember his enemies and their habits. So I must ask you: why sully our hands with the blood and filth of our foes when we have squires and servants to do so in our stead?”

  Avalar looked thoughtful for a moment.

  Avalana spared him the need to reply, by peering up from her patient to say, “It seems best that great lords clean their blades and the blades of their captains, who should likewise clean blades for their underlings, and so on. Else how will they measure the cost of baring steel to resolve their differences?”

  Avalar and Aldric looked as though Avalana had scratched open wounds with her fingernail due her surprising twist on their discussion.

  “It is best that you heal and we fight, Highness,” grunted her patient, earning care less gentle for his errant opinion.

  Aldric warned the man to silence with a hard look, so he mumbled an apology and stared at the ground.

  “Should we then dig the graves as well, daughter?” Avalar rumbled back at her.

  “This stimulating discourse could carry us the rest of the way to Moonriver Castle--and beyond that distance, I should think,” Aldric remarked with a clever smile and an uneasy chuckle.

  The princess went on to say, “Graves are sure measures of loss, but it is in the homes from whence these men hail that the true cost is weighed. Otherwise, I would say, Yes, great lords should dig the graves.”

  Loric disagreed with Avalana’s stunning view. Nevertheless, it called his beliefs into question. It made him wonder if there was no other way to unite Beledon than the strokes of swords and axes. The princess made war seem like a terrible thing, but he asked himself, What could a girl from Regalsturn know of war in Beledon?

  Aldric ventured to air his view, saying, “The war that divides this kingdom forces me to disagree with you, fair princess. I kill as I must, and I cannot bear the burden of guilt that you would heap upon lords like me. I would soon share the grave of my fallen men if I did that, and then who would lead in my stead? My sons are too young to lead, much as Prince Lornigan was too young to lead when Great Donigan perished in the talons of Andokandazur the Black. That would create more strife within the realm, thereby piling misery atop misery.” Aldric shook his head and said sadly, “No, princess. For the sake of order alone, I prefer to remember this battle by the Bushubu Spear.”

  “I understand your view,” Avalar murmured in agreement with Aldric.

  “I forgive you your view,” Avalana conceded with a hard set to her jaw.

  “Avalana!” barked Avalar. “You misspeak! Pray Aldric to forgive your harsh judgment. He does not sin by the necessity of his duty.”

  “I am not offended, good king,” Aldric assured him.

  “Well, I am,” Avalar promised him, with his eyes incredulous due to his daughter’s solemn offense.

  “The memory of one spear only leads to another spear,” Avalana accused. “Then another leads to another. I do not pray forgiveness, father. It is foolish to remember this battle, or any other, by a Bushubu Spear.” She left them to go tend the wounds of other injured men.

  Aldric pressed his lips together to hold back his objection.

  King Avalar appeared on the brink of exploding, and if he did not burst, veins pulsing in his neck and his forehead were like to do so in his stead.

  Loric wrest
led with the subject, uncomfortable with the bitterness it had caused in the once-merry company he now kept. He saw Aldric’s wounded men all around him. The dead spoke loudly in favor of the argument the princess had presented. Still, he remembered a savage face with man-flesh hanging from its mouth, and he chose to remember the Bushubu Spear.

  Chapter Eight

  A Clean Man

  It took several hours to reorganize the company. Wounded were given field care to stop their bleeding. Dead men were bound in tent canvas to make their journey to Moonriver Castle. The fallen Bushubu were stacked and burned. In fact, they were still burning when Aldric

  commanded the ox horn to sound. Aldric assigned a dozen volunteers to keep watch over the fire until Captain Hauldren’s company could come and relieve them.

  As they mounted up and proceeded along the Old King’s Way, Loric noticed that Avalana wore a pleasant smile once more. She talked gaily with Aldric and Avalar, causing the young traveler from Taeglin to wonder if the argument between them had truly taken place, or if he might have imagined the whole exchange. Loric brushed the matter aside, as he was caught up in the warmth of the woman’s glow.

  Aldric cast a proud glance Loric’s way, before informing his noble guests, “King Avalar, Princess Avalana, I would escort you to the Moon Bridge, but then my men shall have to see you safely on from there. My bold young companion wishes to make an oath of service to me, but a bit of ceremony is in order. It would delay you further, and we have delayed you overlong already. I could not in good conscience keep you at risk in the wilds of Riverwood, so I would send you on ahead of us.”

  “Do not be ridiculous, Lord Aldric!” Avalar exclaimed in a hurt tone. “I would feel cheated to miss this ceremony. What a fascinating opportunity to see this aspect of Beledonian Culture at work. No, Aldric. I must insist upon standing witness to this event.”