After having just dropped off their boar at the butcher to be prepped for the festival, Alaezdar and Morlonn walked through the village to find Tharn and help him finish with the final preparations to his tent. His honeydew melons were all displayed and ready for testing by the Trielian and Battleworth representatives.
The morning air still had a slight chill to it, but the sun had already risen above the Goblin Ridge Mountains, or the Waerymyn Crags, their original name given to them by the ancient elves who once had lived there. The elves had long since left after the Goblin tribes had overrun the area many years earlier. With the sun now cresting the jagged peaks, warmth filled the valleys and chased off the evening chill as the early morning dew evaporated.
Villagers were busy and had been for many hours. Alaezdar thought it was nice not to have a pressing purpose right at that minute, and he was enjoying watching the other villagers work. Morlonn tapped his elbow with his and pointed to the bakery with his chin.
“Smell that?” he asked.
Alaezdar could indeed smell the fresh baked treats that were just being put out onto the shelves outside of Baker Cutch’s booth. The smell of fresh baked goods mixed with the morning sun and added an air of freshness and excitement to the morning, a true sign, Aldaezar thought, that a festival was right around the corner.
“Good morning, Master Cutch!” Morlonn said, but before the baker could respond, the whole village radiated with a loud blowing of horns from less than a mile away. Everyone in the streets began to scatter to safety, either inside their tents or into one of the permanent establishments along the street.
“I truly hate this part,” Morlonn muttered. “Come on. We need to get out of the way.”
Within minutes soldiers in full armor charged in on horseback, led by a man in armor who was more distinct, cleaner, and shinier than all the others. He led the charge with his sword drawn. Those that followed also had their swords drawn and their shields raised as they charged into the village’s two main streets. The streets opened at a Y at the western end and the soldiers split the difference and covered both avenues with horse and warrior.
They wore square, dark blue helms with sharp black rectangular blades on the top, back and sides. Most had swords, but some had bows and were firing arrows into the sides of the shops. Some arrows were lit, but the warriors only fired the flaming ones into the dirt directly in front of them. The horses were also armored and had the blue and black colors of Triel on their overcoats with the emblem of a peak from the Stoneridge Mountains and on a black-over-blue shield on their hindquarters, a lightning bolt splitting the mountain.
The warriors on horseback blazed through the streets and were gone, but right behind them were the foot soldiers charging in with shields up and swords drawn. They came in screaming their battle cry, and behind them were the horn blowers playing the battle charge and making a noise much louder and chaotic, although their ranks had a hint of strategic organization.
The horse and foot warriors circled the village in this fashion three times before elegantly dressed pages marched in carrying the Trielian blue and black banners. Behind them a chariot pulled by four white mares appeared and stopped at the end of the street just before the fountain. Slowly the people began to come out of their safe hiding places and crowd about the fountain where the chariot came to a halt.
“Does Triel do this every year?” Alaezdar asked as they began walking to the fountain.
“Unfortunately, yes. They seem to feel the need to display their dominance over our village. In a way, they do own us remotely. Tharn, a Treilian warrior once, has given Triel the feeling that we owe allegiance to them, even though we are independent. I think they also do this so that they will have better deals than any Battleworth representative.”
Alaezdar and Morlonn arrived at the fountain just as a well dressed, fat bald man stepped out of the carriage. He had four warriors on each side of him and a fifth warrior stood directly in front of the large man, facing him. His armor was different from the others, shinier and the colors darker and deeper. It appeared as if his armor had never seen any combat, but he had the air and composure that he was indeed a warrior who had been in many battles or had led many more.
Once the fat dignitary stepped out of the carriage, the warrior said a few words and stepped aside. He looked in front of him and saw Tharn bending to one knee, his head bowed low.
“Stand, my friend and equal!” he said, laughing. “You do not need to kneel. We are here on a visit to your lovely village.”
“This village belongs to Triel and King Toron!” Tharn said humbly.
“Oh, Tharn, you and I both know better than that! You may swear allegiance to the King, but Triel does not own this land…not yet, at least,” he added quietly with a wink.
“Rise, my friend,” he said and placed his hand on Tharn’s head. “Show me to my quarters. Same place as always?”
“Yes, the finest inn in all of the Valelands. The Honeydew Inn. I have cleared it of all its customers for your stay so that you will be most comfortable.”
“You really are a dear friend, Tharn.”
“Will your soldiers be bivouacking outside of the village as always?”
“No, my friend. Not this year. I have reason to keep them close this year, so they will be sleeping wherever they want. If they find a suitable home, they will take it. If not, they will sleep in the streets or on the floors of some of your other great establishments.”
“But Ambassador Krostos, I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to, but you will now follow me. I want you to meet someone.”
The ambassador motioned to his warrior in the shiny, deep blue and black armor to come over.
“This is Warrior Azrull, my most trusted warrior for protection. He even offers me sage advice, and he tells me that I am foolish to allow myself to trust you so dearly.”
“But we go back a long ways, Krostos. Surely, you don’t think that I would allow any harm to come to you?” Tharn protested.
“Of course not. I have assured him that you are harmless now. You were once a great warrior, but now you are just an aged veteran. However, warrior Azrull has told me some things about our king and these lands that bring me pause. He is worried about the Battleworth Kingdom building up forces along the mountains near our border. He does not trust the Battleworth ambassador because of this, but do not worry, it is only politics and all will be well in the end. Trust me.”
Before Tharn could answer, Warrior Azrull stepped in and guided the ambassador down the road towards the inn while giving orders to his troops to mount up, secure the area and prepare to set up encampment.
Tharn started to walk with them when Warrior Azrull turned to Tharn and put his hand in his face. Tharn saw nothing but the iron gauntlet in his face as the warrior spoke.
“You will come no further, old man. Your time here is numbered, as I will be making a few changes very soon that you will not like.”
“Take you helm off while you speak to me!” Tharn yelled at him and he knocked his hand out off his face.
Warrior Azrull grabbed Tharn’s arm and pushed the old man’s face down to the ground in one swift motion. As he held Tharn down, he hissed in his ear through clenched teeth.
“You will kneel to me, old man. You have no grounds to make any demand of me, ancient one, from the old days that no longer exist. This is not your typical visit. This time we have secured and taken over your town. Whether we leave as a unit or if I decide to leave a small garrison post here to keep you in line will depend upon your hospitality over the next few days. If your allegiance truly is with Triel, then we will have no problems here. Understand?”
Alaezdar and Morlonn saw what was
going on, but could not hear what was being said. The minute that Tharn was pushed to the ground, Morlonn stepped forward to intervene, but Alaezdar grabbed his arm.
“No, not yet. Not now.”
“He can’t do that to him,” Morlonn said in anger.
“Trust me, I believe he can. It will only get worse if you step in.”
Then, as quickly as it happened, Warrior Azrull turned Tharn loose, spun around and he and Ambassador Krostos left Tharn, still on his knees in the road. They weren’t more than ten steps away, when Morlonn ran to Tharn and lifted him back onto his feet.
“Are you okay?” Morlonn asked.
“Fine. I have been expecting that this day would soon come. Don’t worry about me, just get on the wall and bring as many young men to it as you can. Get Kunther up there as well. Alaezdar, I think it is time you set up that tournament for the kids. Make sure they are old enough to carry a real sword if need be.”
“Do you think there may be a fight?” Alaezdar asked, astonished, knowing that a fight with seasoned troops would be suicide.
“No, I don’t, but I do want to give the impression that we aren’t to be bullied around. In the meantime, I will send word to my superior about this. That isn’t going to change things directly, but it might help make things a little smoother for next year.”
“I will start right away,” Alaezdar said.
Tharn looked around and noticed that the crowd that had arrived to watch the annual spectacle of the arrival of the Trielian forces was now gawking at him in fear.
“Do not worry, friends,” Tharn began. “Our friends from Triel mean no harm to us. I just misspoke to the Ambassador and his overanxious guard took offense to it. Ambassador Krostos is our friend and he will straighten out his overzealous body guard.”
“Now go,” Tharn whispered to Morlonn.
Chapter 7
By mid-afternoon Tharn, Morlonn, Kunther and Alaezdar were on top of the gate overlooking the Sippling River.
“What are you doing with this piece of junk?” Tharn asked, looking at the scattered parts of Morlonn’s Catapult. Bolts lay scattered on the deck next to the base of a small wheel-less catapult. Stretched bowstring twine lay balled up next to the arm of the catapult which was also disassembled.
“A project for the last night of the festival,” Morlonn answered, almost embarrassed after this morning’s event.
Tharn shook his head. “Never mind. I am sure that I really don’t want to know. Alaezdar, I have about fifteen teenagers headed over here for your tutelage. I am going to have you show them the ropes and then Morlonn will put them on the gate for a tour to show them where to be in case of an attack and where to post, just so that we look strong. Kunther, you will be with Alaezdar and assist him. Morlonn, tonight you and I are going to meet at the smithy to send off for another load of metal before Ambassador Krostos can figure out that we have come up short with his load.”
Tharn looked down from the tower toward the village side and saw his group of kids walking up to the gate.
“There you go, Alaezdar,” Tharn said and pointed them out. “Head on down to the river and give them some techniques and explain the rules of the tournament that they think they are training for.”
“Are we still going to have the tournament after what happened this morning?” Alaezdar asked.
“Even more so than before. Let me get this straight. I am not expecting anything bad to happen. Ambassador Krostos is my friend from a long time ago and I trust him. However, I do not trust this Warrior Azrull. I do not know him and I have never heard of him. I know nothing about him. So, because of this, and because I am an ancient one from the old days, I know how quickly things can go sour and I am just taking precautions to assure that our festival does not turn out to be an ugly one.”
“You won’t get any argument from me,” Alaezdar said. He respected Tharn’s thought process and initiative in the situation.
Alaezdar and Kunther ran down the steps and off to meet the kids. Tharn had made a dozen wooden swords and had them placed in a barrel by the small iron gate that led from outside the village to an open grove next to the Sippling River.
Alaezdar liked this part of the river. It had a sharp bend in it and white water rushed by and ran directly into one of Tharn’s wheelhouses, which picked up the water and started its journey up the hill. The scrub pines, oak and alder trees in the lower valley lined the grove and kept the hot sun from burning the soft grass there at the neck of the river.
“Everyone grab a sword. You too, Kunth, but stand next to me,” he said once they were all assembled and the young boys were staring at him with eager eyes.
They all did as commanded, and he had them line up in by height from tallest to smallest. He was pleased that most of the kids were the same age and surprisingly close to the same height.
“This is going to be a ton of fun for you guys. You will compete in a tournament during the festival in front of the whole village and, even more impressive, you will be competing in front of all the warriors you saw ride into our village today. Any questions before we begin?”
A stocky, dark haired boy about twelve raised his hand.
“What is your name?’ Alaezdar asked him.
“Jor”
“Hi, Jor. What is your question?”
“My dad says you are dangerous and I shouldn’t be here, but I like you and I don’t think you are dangerous,” he said with as much arrogance and cockiness he could spit out.
Alaezdar just shook his head.
“Well, I am glad you don’t think I am dangerous, but I have a secret for you…come here,” Alaezdar motioned with one finger for him to approach and when he was just within arm’s reach, he grabbed the back of his shirt and turned him around so that he faced the group of boys.
“See this boy here?” he said, releasing the back of Jor’s shirt and walking around to his left side. “He is a big strong boy, is he not?” he asked, facing all of the boys.
The boys nodded in unison. A few of the boys that were part of Jor’s group smirked. They thought that Alaezdar might be about to prop up their leader.
“He is strong. In fact, he might win this tournament by beating all of you, so maybe we should just end it all now and go home…”
“Noo!” they all moaned in unison.
“Really? Fine. We will train, but first I would like to get something out in the open. Kunther, throw me a wooden sword.”
Kunther picked up one of the wooden swords, threw it to him and Alaezdar caught it by the blade. He handed it hilt first to Jor.
As soon as Jor took it, Alaezdar withdrew his own sword from his scabbard. It was a borrowed sword and scabbard from Rankin’s shop and rusty flakes fell onto the ground as he withdrew it. Alaezdar looked at it and smiled briefly. He realized he shouldn’t have been surprised at the condition of the sword. I love it here, he thought to himself.
He took a single step forward and pointed and held the tip of the sword inches away from the bridge of the boy’s nose.
“Defend yourself, Jor!” he yelled.
Jor raised his sword timidly.
Alaezdar took his sword and smacked the wooden sword out of Jor’s hand. As it fell onto the soft grass, Jor grabbed his wrist and looked as if he were about to cry.
Alaezdar sheathed his sword.
“Does this look like a fair fight to you?
All of the boys shook their heads.
“No. Of course it is not a fair fight.” He pointed to Rowlf. “Come here.”
Rowlf lowered his head and stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of Alaezdar.
�
��What I want to know,” he said, grabbing Rowlf by the shoulders and turning him so that he faced Jor, “is who thinks this would be a fair fight? The big Jor versus the young and scrawny Rowlf.”
All the boys were silent except for of Jor’s friends, who began snickering again.
“Rowlf is not only small, he is also touched in the head!” one of them shouted.
All of the boys began to laugh.
“Enough!” Alaezdar put his hand on Rowlf’s head and tussled his hair. “Go back to the group.”
Rowlf ran back to the group and hid behind some of the taller boys. Alaezdar grabbed Jor by the back of the shirt again and turned his back to him, withdrew his sword and smacked him on the back with the flat of the sword.
“Ouch!” Jor screamed and he went to his knees.
Tears began to form in his eyes as Alaezdar grabbed him and picked him up to face the group again. He stood behind Jor and replaced his sword in its scabbard. He leaned towards Jor and whispered in his ears loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I have a message for you and your dad. If you touch Rowlf again, you and your dad are going to find out just how dangerous I am. You should listen to your dad more. Now, go home!” he said.
He kicked Jor in the butt as he ran away.
The other kids laughed, and Alaezdar grabbed Kunther’s sword and smacked the two blades together. “Enough!” he yelled.
“I am about sick and tired of you and your families not trusting me. Everyone have a seat.”
Every kid sat down. They were listening now with all of their eyes and their ears wide open.
“I know I am kind of a mystery to you all, but I really am not as dangerous as you think. I have seen many things in my short life and have done many things, many of which I will never tell. But I will give you a little bit about myself.”
He looked at the kids and remembered what it was like when he had been about their age. He remembered his fascination letting his two cousins teach him how to use a wooden sword. He respected those two boys and they had treated him as if they were brothers. Even though they had never met him until his father had dropped him off to live with his aunt and uncle, they agreed to take care of him after the wizard Torz had killed his mom.
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 8
