The two sat in silence a few minutes. Alaezdar just wanted to leave, but Tharn had something to prove to the young man in front of him. He could tell Alaezdar was getting frustrated with the conversation, but he had to push it a little further.
“How can you ignore the prophecies?”
Alaezdar shook his head, incredulous, and spoke slowly and sarcastically. “Because they are elven?”
“That is where you are mistaken. Yes, they are elven preached and studied, but they are based on the return of the first human king, Dar Drannon.”
Alaezdar shook his head in frustration. “This is the part that kills me. Why would elves depend on the return of a human to advance their cause? That makes absolutely no sense to me. Besides, when it all comes down to it, they are just elves. It makes no difference to me.”
“Why are you so against the elves?”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Alaezdar raked his fingers hard through the hair on the top of his head. “Because they are a dying race. They had their time here in this realm, but they lost it because they fought against each other and lost their advantage against humans. Now they preach the returning of the human king to pry themselves back into power by using the fear of this prophecy against us.”
Tharn laughed. “So, you do know about the prophecies and the elven religion.”
“More than I care to know.”
“So you know about Val Eahea, Raezoures, Val Elves, Sor Elves, and the Sorae, but do you know about the role of the Aginsorae in the prophecy?”
“I have heard about it.”
“Shall I entertain you with my spin on the prophecy, one that you may not have heard about?”
“Tharn, talk all you want, but if you are looking for a debate on this issue from me, you aren’t going to get one. I have spent my whole life listening about this from my father and then dealing with the political fallout amongst the kingdoms while…well, let’s just say, I know more than I care to admit right now.”
“Follow me to the porch. I know you aren’t interested, but I want to show you something.”
Tharn left the kitchen and Alaezdar followed him.
As soon as Tharn walked through the door, he pointed to the northeast. “Many miles beyond the river and north of the Goblin Tribes forest is the fortress of the first human king, Dar Drannon. It may seem like just an old abandoned fortress to you, but it is much more than that. Think about it. This fortress was built in the face of a cliff during a time before humans sprouted upon this land. Where did he come from and how did he build the fortress?”
“There are so many tales explaining this legend, but it is just that, a legend.”
“I don’t think so, young man, and you would be wise to take heed as you have more at stake than you may know. We all do, in fact.”
Dar Drannon is not from this land. Many believe he is the spawn of the Markenhirth while others claim that he arrived with the elves and is elven in god-like form. Some even claim that he arrived to destroy the land. However, the three gods, Val Eahea, Raezoures and the dwarf god Har Ron battled him in his natural form, but they could not defeat him using their magic for he had magic of his own that counteracted and twisted all of their spells of Wrae magic. A star fell upon the land and pierced his heart just as he was about to destroy the three gods. That star separated into four shards and fell in four different places upon the land. Hence, the Quarterstar Shards. The star wounded him severely, but did not kill him. He was not found again in the same form as they had last seen him. Now this is where the tale changes to what I believe. He is not a spawn of Markenhirth, but he is part of it. He is not completely elven, but he is elven. He will return, but not as everyone predicts. All the prophecies predict his return for different reasons. I believe all the prophecies to be accurate, but they all have different outcomes to suit their needs. I also believe there is a power struggle to force each prophecy to come true.”
“You aren’t telling me anything new, Tharn.”
Tharn faced Alaezdar and smiled. “Here is the twist. Dar Drannon is already here. He is in human form, but he doesn’t know who he is yet and he has not been awakened.”
“You’re right. I have not heard that one. You know what? I think I need to get back to work.”
“No, I think we have done enough for the day.” Tharn ran his hand over his nearly baldhead. “Let’s pick up our tools, put away the animals and call it a day.”
As they walked to the field, Tharn continued to talk again about his days in the service of Triel. Alaezdar listened with interest to tale after tale throughout the rest of the afternoon. They broke their conversation only once, to bring the ox in from the sun, and Tharn talked the whole time, following Alaezdar while he brought the animal in.
Afterward they came back in, sat comfortably inside and shared tales, thoughts and ideals from magic, elves, kings and kingdoms. When they had exhausted their topics, Tharn excused Alaezdar and went to bed.
Alaezdar meanwhile went back to his small cottage thinking about their conversations. He was glad that he could have an encouraging and stimulating conversation with an ex soldier without divulging the fact that he was once a member of the Rager’s House of Renegades.
In fact, Tharn had never even asked where Alaezdar had gotten all of his experience. He was so wrapped up in his own tales that the thought might never have crossed his mind. Later, he might see the correlation, and might even confront Alaezdar about it, but that would be a conversation to dodge another day.
Alaezdar thought that maybe it would even be safe to tell Tharn. He would most likely understand, but it would jeopardize his safety within this village, as well as the safety of the villagers, if the members of the Rager’s House of Renegades found him here.
Still deep in thought, Alaezdar walked through the front door of his cottage. The cottage was a small, three-room villa only big enough for sleeping and cooking. There was a small closet-sized extension for a bathing area. His bed was against the far wall. He went to it, sat down, put his elbows on his knees, rested his head on his chin, and covered his eyes with his fingers.
He sat there for a few minutes before reaching under the bed and pulling out his sword, still in its scabbard. It was a common bastard sword covered with an elaborate scabbard and it had been there untouched since he had arrived at Valewood. He had hoped that he would not need the use of this it ever again. He read the inscription on the scabbard. “Loyalty, honor, trust in the House. No mercy to others.”
He turned the scabbard over and looked at the other side. It had an inscription that was similar, but it read “To Honor, to Death: Rock Blade.”
The hilt of the sword was the only part of the sword showing. The handle was wrapped with pounded dragon hide from stolen baby dragon eggs that had been taken from their lairs within the Dragon Cross Peaks many years ago, when the dragons were in their hibernation period. The pommel had a platinum red stone, still shiny and new, buffed to appear transparent. Implanted on the butt of the pommel was the simple inscription, “RB.”
Alaezdar missed his friends, Shadow Blade, Half Blade, Stolie. He even got along with Talon Blade, even though he was Red Blade’s closest friend. Now Talon Blade would want Alaezdar dead, and he would stop at nothing to see that end come to fruition.
“I will not allow my friends to die because of my actions,” Alaezdar vowed to himself. “I will lie to obtain a better outcome. I will protect my friends and this village.” He paused. “But hopefully I won’t have to.”
Alaezdar had loved the Rager’s House of Renegades mercenary guild, but he knew that he had to leave. When he killed Red Blade, he had no choice. It was at that terrible moment, during a mission when they were inside the castle of their worst enemy, Reik
er-Kol, that he had realized that being a soldier of fortune was not what he had long sought to be.
He did love fighting for the good causes, where it was clear that it was a struggle of good against bad, but more often than not it was not always as clear as black and white. In the end, the members of the Rager’s House of Blade were dispatched to the highest bidder, whoever that might be.
Sometimes the members were at the mercy of those in charge, such as when eight members, including Alaezdar, went to hold Reiker-Kol’s children hostage and wait for Reiker-Kol to come to the rescue, at which time they would expediently assassinate him. Reiker-Kol never showed up. Instead, he sent a message back to inform his guards that some members of the Rager’s House of Renegades would be there and they were to seal all entrances and exits, search out the intruders and kill them.
When Red Blade realized that the mission was going to turn into a failure, he killed one of the children in a rage of fury and in cold blood. While Shadow Blade and Half Blade watched, Alaezdar, then known as Rock Blade, cut Red Blade down. Afterward Alaezdar ran from the castle, but Shadow Blade, Alaezdar’s close friend, tackled him, but then let him go before the others could find him. Shadow Blade told him to hide and never to return, lest he be killed.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alaezdar touched the hilt of the sword lightly and then placed it back under the bed. He sat motionless for many moments.
Finally he decided to go into town for a while.
Chapter 3
“I love our spot,” Rivlok said to Aaelie as he watched the slow ripple of the Sippling River churn past him and continue its journey to the Val-Ron Sea. It would only be a short walk now through the forest and past the water wheelhouses along the river to get to their favorite place, past the noise of the creaking wheelhouse wood that dipped water out of the river and into the troughs that led to the sloughs carrying the water to the crops.
They always had to get permission from either Tharn or the Captain of the Guard -- usually Morlonn the Hunter -- and today had been no different. The called him Morlonn the Hunter because it is what he did when he wasn’t on the gate. He hunted for his family and for many other families in the village as well.
Today he was on the gate and when he was on the gate, they didn’t have much problem getting through, but Tharn often would not let them pass. They knew that Morlonn would be there today and that they wouldn’t have a problem. However, they still had to get past him.
They came to the wooden outer perimeter that Tharn had built to protect the villagers from the occasional brave, usually young goblins who occasionally raided the village looking for notoriety within their tribe. After Tharn had built the wall for protection, no raids ever happened. He had built it wide enough to have guards walk on it and he also built lookout towers every couple hundred feet and one tower big enough to house a guard tower and headquarters. Kunther often guarded at the small gate below while Morlonn paced the top of the wall.
Rivlok and Aaelie smiled at Kunther, who was there today, and they all waited a few minutes for Morlonn to return. They watched him walk towards them and when they saw him, they waved.
“Hey, let us through!” they shouted so that he could hear them from below.
Morlonn stood on top of the fence with his hands on his hips. When he was on watch, he wore his leather armor and his metal shin and elbow protectors and had his shield slung on his back. His sword hung loosely about his waist. He was in his early twenties, kept in great shape and his athletic build showed it. He had dark brown eyes and short brown hair that he kept cut close to keep it out of his eyes at all times.
“Where are you going?” he yelled down.
“Just to the river for a spell,” Rivlok answered.
Seeing his friends, Morlonn changed his tough stance and softened his tone. He liked to play tough at first, as he loved being Captain of the Guard, but his friends always made him break down the façade.
“Why don’t you two come up here for a bit. I have something to show you,” Morlonn yelled down to them and then asked Kunther to show them up.
Within a few minutes, Kunther had opened the door that allowed them inside the gate. It led to a narrow hallway only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The three of them walked to the end of the hall and into an empty anteroom that had a caged gate on top of its ceiling. Morlonn stood on top of it smiling.
“Kunther and I just made this. Tharn told me all about it. He calls it a murder room. If anyone ever gets in, we can lock them in this room with that sliding door behind you…now, Kunth,” he said as a wall from the ceiling came slamming down, trapping them in the room.
“Now we can do many things. We can stab them with spears, shoot arrows in through here or even pour hot oil onto them from above. Tharn said that all the fortresses do this.”
Rivlok grinned from ear to ear with excitement, but Aaelie just shook her head. “Morlonn, you really shouldn’t spend so much time out here,” she said.
“I know,” he said, but was unconvinced. “Come on up. That’s not really what I want to show you.”
He jumped down out of sight and quickly came into the room by opening a door that could not be seen from the inside, where Rivlok and Aaelie were. They jumped, clearly startled.
“This is another improvement I made,” he said, laughing to see the surprised looks on their faces. “But still not what I want to show you. Come on up.”
They followed Kunther up the steps to the top of the gate and to one of the towers where the floor was wider. Morlonn had parts scattered around of what looked to be an old, rusty, broken catapult. The base was put together and there were no wheels were on it yet, but the axles had been inserted into the base. The throwing arm lay next to it, but it did not have its launching mechanism connected.
“Tharn gave this to me at last year’s festival, but I didn’t break it out until last week. I am going to use it for the dance. I will give everyone a nice fire-show and use this to launch the fire.”
“With that piece of junk?” Aaelie frowned, unimpressed.
“I can help you fix that!” Rivlok said at the same time.
Morlonn smiled proudly. “No, thanks. I know you could probably build a better one from scratch, but I want to put this one together myself and add a few neat features to it that will launch the projectiles so high that they will burn out long before they hit the ground…so I don’t catch the whole forest on fire.”
“What are you going to use?” asked Rivlok.
“A lot of flammable items, like straw, sticks and bit of my own invention of oil and cow manure mix.”
“Oh, yuck,” Aaelie said and shook her head. “So cow dung is going to be falling on us at the festival. Be sure to warn me when you start shooting that thing.”
“No, don’t worry about that. Look, follow me over here,” Morlonn said and motioned them to follow. He could hardly contain his excitement.
Morlonn took them to the northern corner of the gate and showed them a small cliff ledge above the water tanks.
“See that ledge over there? I’m going to set the catapault up over there and shoot it over the fountain square, landing just over Drostin’s ranch over there. It is somewhat poetic in the sense that that is where I will be getting my manure from to start with and then giving it right back. I will probably be scaring enough dung out of the cows in one night to supply all the dung I need for next year!” he said, laughing.
“Too much enthusiasm,” Aaelie said smiling.
“Thanks, Aaelie,” Morlonn said.
He realized that they were getting bored with his catapult. He sorely wanted to get back to work on it anyways, but he didn’t want to send them off so soon. He really did like
both of them. They had been friends since they were very young. Rivlok and he had often played swordfighter together when they were kids, and a lot of times their pretend battles turned into real fights because Rivlok was so competitive and high strung.
So as not to make them feel like he was sending the couple away, Morlonn started a subject that would certainly cause them enough awkwardness that they would want to leave.
“So, Aaelie, what are doing for the dance?”
“Same as usual, skipping it,” she answered.
“Why? Isn’t this guy taking you?” he asked and punched Rivlok in the shoulder.
“Oh, I am sure he would like that,” Aaelie said, “but no, the dance is soo boring.”
“Then go with me. We’ll have fun,” Morlonn said with a huge grin.
Aaelie blushed, but Rivlok flushed.
“I am sure we would,” she said. “Actually, I might go, but I don’t think I will go with any one person. Why don’t we all go together?”
“Let’s do that,” Morlonn said. He smiled and looked to Rivlok, who did not like the turn in the conversation. “Hey, Rivlok, it’s time for the boar hunt again tomorrow. Are you going?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Rivlok said, turning away and looking towards the Sippling River. “Same time, same place as last year?”
“As always,” he answered.
Morlonn walked them back to the stairs and Rivlok and Aaelie left the gate and headed out towards the river.
“Don’t be long, you two!” Morlonn yelled down. “It will be dark soon and I don’t want to have to look for you.”
They ignored Morlonn. Kunther opened the final gate at the bottom for them and they ran down the trail leading to the river and followed it downstream for about a mile before they came to their spot. They had to walk that far just to escape the wheelhouse sounds and to get away from the noise and the hustle and bustle of the village and even to get far enough away from the sounds of cows, goats and chickens. Their spot was absolutely silent and so secluded that it gave the couple the illusion that no civilization or people were even close.
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 4
