The two of them rode out of the stable and down the hillside their fathers’ castle was built on. Tristan had only ever seen the town from his window and he was enjoying this leisurely ride through town. They took the long way around several of the main districts until they finally approached the central marketplace. It was an enormous space that served as an open market. It must clear out at night, he thought to himself, because he’d never seen such congestion from his window. At the moment, the market was crowded with hundreds of wagons full of the most amazing things.
The brothers tethered their horses at one of the available corral posts and made their way into the market. Tristan gaped in amazement at the variety of wares being sold, one wagon was selling the strangest smelling herbs, and right next to it was a middle-aged gypsy looking woman selling various styles and colors of silken scarves. It wasn’t until they approached a weapon dealer’s wagon that Tristan was truly impressed though.
Both sides of the wagon flipped up, being held aloft by long eight foot poles. Kevin still had to lean down to get under the awning though. Tristan, however, was transfixed by the selection of exotic and impressive weaponry. When Kevin finally motioned for them to move on Tristan had marked several wicked looking blades he was very keen to try out.
A few hours later they slowly made their way back into the palace grounds and stables. Tristans’ world was getting larger by the moment and he was keen to get on with his journey to Kenting.
That night the family gathered in his father’s council chamber, located behind the main assembly hall. Conversation was light and Tristan was thoroughly enjoying himself. After a memorable meal, his mother passed him a small carved wooden box. A crest was carved into the box of a raven flying over a rock jutting out of the ocean. Behind it, a wave crashed sending a spray of water high into the air. The wood was once again stained in a manner unknown to Tristan though he assumed it was much the same process as his furniture.
When he opened the box he found a silver ring with the crest carved into a flattened out circular section. His mother explained that the raven was made of opal, painstakingly carved into shape. The rock was made of atacamite and the crashing wave was carved out of dark blue sapphire. Finally, the sea water was carved out of light blue sapphire. The gems refracted the flames from the nearby fireplace, making the scene seem to dance and come to life.
“Our families ring Tristan. When a member of our family comes of age it’s tradition to give them a golden ring with the family crest on it.” Dion explained. “Since you prefer silver I had the jewel smith cast it in white gold instead.”
“Atacamite is the family crystal; it’s very rare.” Annadora added.
“Open mine next!” Eurydice insisted smiling widely.
She passed over her small gift wrapped in a thick black cloak with a red silk sash tied in a bow holding it together. He placed it gently on the table and untied the bow. Tristan pulled back each fold of the cloak to reveal a dagger inside. The handle was wrapped in black leather, poking out the end of it was a roaring dragons head made of the finest silver colored steel, the hilt curved up like scythes on either side of the six inch long blade. Tristan pulled it out of the sheath. The blade had been cast with a gap from the tip down three inches, and the gap reappeared two inches later and continued to the hilt. The sheath was wrapped in similar black leather with the family crest carved into it in the middle and tipped with more silver colored metal.
“Wow.” Tristan whispered. “Thank you Euri, it’s beautiful.” He said just loud enough for her to hear him.
“The master blacksmith says it’s strong enough to deflect a sword strike.” She said, grinning with pride.
After inspecting the dagger, enjoying its craftsmanship, Kevin passed him a long wooden box. Tristan had a good idea of what was inside as they had discussed his favorite style of sword just a few days ago. Nothing could have prepared him though for the sight he beheld when he opened the box. Lying in a red silken bed was a shinning new falchion style sword. Over the week of training Tristan had shown more aptitude with one handed weapons with only one cutting edge. His favorites had been the blades with large pommels to protect his hands from blades sliding down into his own as he moved in for closer combat.
At the beginning of his intensive training at the hands of his older brother, Tristan had been escorted to the dueling arena, which was right next to the horsemaster’s stables. His first time with a similar sword, he forced his opponent to slide his blade down the pommel of Tristan’s blade. As it slid down Tristan stepped into his opponent, raised his elbow and connected with his chin, as the man reeled backwards Tristan stepped on his foot and he fell in a heap on his backside. The moment he’d regained his feet Tristan immediately jumped towards him sending him reeling back with a flurry of strikes and parries, backing his opponent right out of the dueling ring. Tristan used his speed to back the corporal up, eventually dumping him into one of the water troughs surrounding the outside of the horse corral. Pava snorted water out of her nose onto his head and Kevin nearly fell over with laughter at the display.
The sword his brother had given him though, was two and a half feet long with a strengthening indent running the length of it an inch from the dull side. The pommel was a large dragons’ tail, its four clawed legs sticking out away from his hand presumably to be used for punching an opponent. The pommel ended in a roaring dragons head with atacamite eyes and the grip was wrapped in black leather. The blade itself weighed as much as the entire hilt and appeared to be folded many times. He looked up as his brother, who in the course of the previous week had become almost as close to him as the sister he felt so connected to and mouthed his thanks, though unable to speak.
“The blade was folded one hundred times as was the dagger. There’s a surprise I’ll tell you about on the road tomorrow. Both of them will serve you well for years if you keep them polished and sharpened.” Kevin explained in his usual instructional, though friendly tone.
“May I see the dagger son?” His father asked.
Tristan absentmindedly handed the dagger to his father as he lifted the falchion into his hands marveling at the lightness of the blade judging from the last week of training with the heavy practice swords, this blade will feel feather light in his hands, which he supposed was the point of his training.
“This is quite possibly your best work Kevin.” His father said.
Shaken from his reverie Tristan looked up at Kevin who had grinned at the compliment.
“You should look at the sword then father; it’s lighter than the one I made you last year and easily twice as strong.” Kevin admitted.
Tristan wordlessly passed the sword, hilt first, to his father as he accepted back the dagger. Looking on it with a renewed appreciation he looked up at his elder brother again.
“You made these?” Tristan stammered.
“Sword smithing is something of a hobby of mine, little brother.” Kevin explained. “I think you’ll find between the bugbear attacks and clumsy attempts at infiltration our neighbor attempts at least twice a month there is plenty of time to take up a hobby of your own.” Kevin replied with a smirk.
“Er…bugbears?” Tristan mumbled still staring at his new dagger.
“Pretty mindless really, they attack the keep from time to time trying to get treasure. No one really understands why, they never actually buy anything from what we can tell…most likely they just like shiny things.” He laughed dismissively.
Tristan chuckled nervously; this dagger will eventually be stained with some things or worse, someone’s blood. Suddenly he was stricken with the thought that being a beaten down wretch might not be so bad after all. Beautiful though the weapons might be what if he froze when confronted and having to use them to defend his own life?
You’ll be fine I’m sure Mykl. Sent his mother.
I hope you’re right. He replied.
The rest of the night passed wonderfully free of worry as they all discussed small details of th
e travel plans to Kenting. His sister’s initial excitement began to diminish as she began nodding off to sleep at the table. It wasn’t until her elbow came to rest in what was left of her soup that their mother carried her off to bed. As soon as they had left the room Dion turned to his sons and turned suddenly serious.
“Are you ready for this son?” He directed at Tristan.
“I have to be. Nothing is coming back to me here. This all seems like a dream to me. I need some harsh reality, even if I never remember the way I used to be at least I can grow.” He answered.
Tristan had rehearsed this very speech in his mind numerous times since the night he had eavesdropped on their secret conversation. He had decided shortly after that night that not only would he go out the border keep with his brother, he was determined to prove that he wasn’t a spoiled son of a King.
“I told you.” His brother chimed in, a proud smile playing over his lips.
“I want you both to be careful; you know how your mother frets…” Their father instructed.
“…and father….” Kevin interjected laughing.
“Be that as it may, we now have both of you on the border. I want you to take care of each other.” Their father concluded.
“He means I’m supposed to babysit you.” Tristan chuckled.
“That or he wants me to change your diapers out there.” Kevin retorted, laughing.
Dion looked from one son to the next, clearly enjoying the mocking by-play. Tristan was sure that before his attack, the easy bantering he enjoyed with his large older brother hadn’t existed. Many people seemed to enjoy the recent development in their relationship over the past week as they trained closely together.
“I have one final gift for you Tristan.” His father added, drawing Tristan’s attention.
The King motioned for a pair of servants to bring a chest forward. The pair of them lifted it with little difficulty and brought it forward, while a third brought a large wooden cross with a wide base on it. A look of confusion crossed Tristan’s face as Dion chuckled and motioned for the servants to continue with their task. One of them opened the chest, lifting the lid off as the young Prince was greeted with the strong odor of oiled leather.
“This is something I’ve had in the works for you since we decided to send you off to the border for some toughening up.” Dion explained.
The servants attached a pair of black stained greaves to the cross before placing a pair of similarly colored boots, both possessed a band of red trim giving them the same look as standard Vallious soldier attire. Upon closer inspection though, the armor wasn’t leather at all. Rather it was some sort of overlapping scale, smooth to the touch yet hard as iron.
“Your mother couldn’t stand the thought of you out there in simple leather armor, so I had this suit of armor commissioned. You’ll more or less look like any of our soldiers, though with some slight changes to mark your rank.” He continued.
The tunic was next, though it was more of a breastplate as the servants unfastened one side and lifted it up over the top of the cross, retying the leather laces. It too was made of the same scales and trimmed in red. Two red stained metal clasps had been attached just bellow each shoulder joint for a cloak to be attached, which they pulled out of the chest next. One of the servants offered Tristan a bracer for closer inspection as the others tied together all of the joints.
“What is this material?” Tristan asked as he ran his fingers along the scales.
“Dragon scales.” Dion replied, drawing both of his sons’ attention.
A servant offered Kevin the other bracer for examination as another showed Tristan how to tie the bracer he had to his arm. The outside was hard as iron, with its overlapping plates of dragon scale. The inside though was soft leather, padded and comfortable as the servant tightened the leather cords he’d run through the iron grommets.
Carl the manservant entered the hall baring a tray with two bottles of wine, three pipes and some scented tobacco. As he approached the table he smiled at Tristan before turning to the King.
“How does the lad like his gift, sir?” Carl asked.
“Seems rather speechless actually Carl.” Dion replied.
“Well that’s a first to be certain.” The servant replied. “I’ll help you figure out the pieces tomorrow young master.”
Tristan dumbly nodded his thanks as Carl deposited the tray on the table, made a quick bow, and left the room with the three servants. They had completed their assembly of his armor and Tristan stood to examine his last gift. Looking at the armor was like looking at a fine piece of art for the young Prince and he enjoyed examining it from every angle. The breastplate had a muscular frame, with the plates being painstakingly attached to it. The padding and soft leather was under every piece of armor, making it look like something he could easily sleep in if required.
The breastplate had shoulder pads attached to it using metal clips and grommets, and they would cover most of his shoulder and biceps. The bracers would do a fine job of protecting his forearms, elbows and wrists, leaving only a four inch gap. The greaves rose up and must tie around his stomach as there was an elongated flat section that would protect his lower abdomen and groin. The boots had been similarly covered in scales and between those and the greaves there was essentially no gap to speak of.
“Where did you get enough scale to cover a whole suit of armor?” Kevin asked as he handed the bracer back to Tristan.
“I have my sources.” Dion replied with a wry grin, much to Kevin’s amusement.
Tristan sat down heavily, thumbing the bracer still firmly tied to his forearm. He flexed his hand and arm, twisting around in various fencing movements to test the range of motion he had. Finally, he carefully untied the straps and placed both bracers back inside the chest. He was fully overwhelmed with everything he’d received tonight and thanked his father profusely.
“I also want to ask a favor.” The King said seriously.
Both boys lost their smiles as they leaned forward slightly in their chairs.
“Promise you’ll both be home for Midwinter Solstice.” He said with a crooked smirk.
All three of them laughed as they leaned back in their chairs, each draining their glasses of wine and simply enjoying each others’ company.
A few days later Tristan sat astride Pava waiting for the last of the wagons to be loaded up for their journey to Kenting. Kevin had informed him last night that they would be taking the Southern Road down to Irudin first to visit their uncle for a couple of days, then onto Kenting.
“They’re finally ready. Euri tried to sneak into the meat wagon.” His brother called.
Tristan was abruptly shaken from his thoughts by his brothers’ boisterous laugh. He turned in his saddle so he could see his mother coming around the wagon, a guilty looking Euri being pulled along by the hand towards them. One of her better dresses was covered in animal blood. The brothers laughed out loud causing their father to turn and join them laughing at the sight.
Quiet you three. It’s not funny. His mother sent.
All three of them laughed harder still upon seeing Eurydice smile tentatively, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t worry little one, we’ll be back in a few months.” Tristan said.
“We promise.” Kevin added.
Finally the procession was ready to make way as they rode through the keep gates. They made their way through town towards the south gate. The journey to Irudin, Tristan was told, would take at least two days. As soon as they had cleared the gates Tristan turned to look at his brother.
“What’s special?” He blurted.
“Sorry?” Kevin replied.
“About the sword and dagger.” Tristan explained.
“Oh! Mother had the idea and I didn’t see the harm in it. There’s a hair of hers in each of them.” He said.
“In the blade?” Tristan asked, clearly shocked.
“Yes. Not really sure why, but it certainly doesn’t weaken the metal any so
I agreed.” Kevin recounted.
“Why would she do that?” The young Prince muttered.
“Women, especially mothers, do strange things little brother.” Kevin replied. “Who knows?”
They rode on in silence for the next two days with nothing of consequence happening along the way. At night they set camp and Kevin saw to the disposition of the men as Tristan sat near the cooking fire completely lost in thoughts and memories that were not his own. Quiet times allowed him to brood and lament his failed memories and the tortured ones that had replaced them. He tried to control these moods by oiling his armor or polishing his blades, though nothing seemed to completely distract him from the nagging sensation that there was something everyone was still keeping from him. Still, his life had become an amazing adventure and he tried to enjoy every moment of it.
~
Early afternoon found the brothers entering the outer wall of Irudin town. The entire country thus far seemed to be heavily farmed, the only places not having grain farms and ranches were the woodlands. Those were protected by ranger stations and their main job was planting more trees so that there would always be a forest here. They also protected the animals from poachers in the off-seasons though. They had passed no less than a dozen such stations on their trip down the Southern Road, making the importance of their jobs apparent to anyone. Before too long, they approached Irudin and passed through the simple walls that served as a rudimentary fortification of a largely economic town.
The procession slowly wound its way through town, which allowed Tristan to look around at all the buildings and people in what his brother had called ‘The Crossroads of the Kingdom’. He could now see why it was called this; there were no fewer than five entrances through the north wall alone for all of the shipments coming in. The packed gravel road here had only been wide enough for two wagons to ride side by side, but off to the east and west Tristan could make out much wider roads. Remembering the map in his room he assumed the road to the east, the wider of the two roads was presumably for wagons loaded up with tree boles and wood from the Anton Wood forest to the north-east. These wagons would be the slowest moving and would need a lane all to themselves, as they made slow progress at the best of times.
Draconis' Bane Page 7
