by Brian Murray
“What is that doing here?” boomed the tall, lean man to Maldino, motioning to Monetar.
Monetar lurched to his feet and his champion stood close by with his hand on his sword hilt.
“Sit down,” said Maldino softly, almost casually.
“I will not sit down in the same tent as that scum.”
“Scum, I will show you who is scum,” bellowed Monetar, stalking forward.
“There will be no bloodshed in my tent. If either of you draw your swords I will personally kill you, your families, and all of your clan for such disrespect,” said Maldino, raising his voice slightly, but not standing. It was not an idle threat. Under a peace banner, no clan could bear weapons upon another. Once they left the host’s camp they could do as they pleased, but in the host’s camp they had to abide by this custom. Furthermore, the Silverswords was the largest clan and recently, Maldino had been swallowing up smaller clans into his numbers.
Dnambi boomed with laughter.
“The Whitecats and Crossbones still have a blood feud. I bet there is no warrior among your clans who could tell you what the feud is about.”
“That’s not true,” said Renai, not taking his eyes off Monetar.
“Then enlighten us,” hissed Dnambi.
Renai turned and faced the large chieftain with anger dancing in his eyes. “Do not push me, Roundstone.”
“And what will you do? Stop yapping like a little dog and sit down.”
“I will enjoy sticking my sword into your belly, fat man.”
“You cannot afford me as an enemy, Renai.”
“Enough!” roared Maldino. Renai nodded to his host and sat on the opposite side of the fire to Monetar. The two chieftains glared at each other with undisguised hatred.
Gamada of the Tallpeaks arrived towards dusk and sat between Dnambi and Monetar. He greeted all of the chieftains as he had no feud with any of them. Last to arrive was Sledon of the Snowrats. He greeted all of the chieftains with the exception of Gamada. The two clans were mountain neighbours and their warriors constantly fought.
Rayth was surprised with what happened next. Each of the chieftains rolled out their rugs and blankets and slept without a word being spoken. Rayth sat by the fire in utter disbelief. They were clans who hated each other, yet here in Maldino’s tent of peace they would sleep together. The Rhaurn shook his head as he made himself comfortable. He could not believe these Kharnacks would agree to anything—so much hate between peoples of the same race. Sleep arrived quickly for the Rhaurn, but his dreams were troubled.
***
Rayth woke to find all of the chieftains awake and eating. Not a single word was exchanged except with Maldino or between chieftain and his champion. No one had asked the Silverswords chieftain why they had been summoned. Rayth’s anger grew as throughout the morning the men sat and said nothing. Then from outside, someone rang a bell. Noon.
Maldino straightened his back and cleared his throat. The other chieftains ceased what they were doing and turned their attention to him.
“Greetings, fellow Kharnacks. I welcome Dnambi of the Roundstone, Gamada of the Tallpeaks, Renai of the Whitecats, Sledon of the Snowrats, and Monetar of the Crossbones to my camp.” As custom dictated, Maldino welcomed the chieftain in order of clan size. “I have gathered you here today, for my clan goes to battle. We go to battle against those foreigners who tricked our people.”
“You talk of the Darklord and his Dark Brethren?” asked Dnambi, who hawked and spat in the fire after speaking the names.
“Yes, but the Dark Brethren are all but gone. There is a new danger facing us all. It does not care about nations, creed, or colour of skin, let alone clans. The danger I speak of is the Darklord’s master. He is known as the Dark One and he walks our lands again as he did long ago. Currently, the monster is camped outside the white city.”
“Then he is their problem,” said Gamada without emotion, his voice thick and deep.
“I do not believe we can think so narrowly. You all know your history. It has been passed down from generation to generation. This is the monster that has an army of beasts. You all should know the spoken words of our elders.”
“It cannot be him,” said Sledon, his voice edged with fear. “It cannot be the one in black armour. He was stopped generations ago.”
“Yet it’s true. This is my friend, Rayth, Fire in the Storm. He is a Rhaurn who has proven his honour and bravery. He will tell you as it is.”
Rayth looked around the fire at the eyes staring at him. “It’s as Maldino has said. The Dark One has risen again and has brought his beasts. They tried to defeat our king in Teldor, but he tricked them. His beasts now hold Kal-Pharina under siege. The Rhaurn army is marching to the Phadrine’s aid. I have asked Maldino for his aid in defeating the monster and his minions.”
The other chieftains all started speaking at once and Maldino raised his hands for order. “Fellow Kharnacks, this is a man I trust with my life, he is the man who stood alone . . . ”
“With all due respect Maldino, we all know the story of Fire in the Storm and his battling power, but we’re talking of beasts here.”
“Yes, we are.” Maldino paused. “I have pledged my warriors to aid the Phadrine.”
“This is madness,” stormed Renai. “What can we do against the beasts? From the spoken word of my elders it’s said these creatures could not be killed. We will be going to certain death.”
“Typical response from a Whitecat,” sneered Monetar. “Cowards, the lot of you.”
“How dare you!” snarled Renai, surging to his feet. “I was not saying we would not go, but this is sending out men into certain death. The last time our people fought the one in black armour we had the silver-armoured warrior on our side.”
“Renai, you are right and wrong. The beasts can be killed,” started Maldino. “There is nothing in the spoken words of my elders saying the beasts were not able to be killed.”
Rayth spoke up. “I have killed his beasts with my own axe.”
“Well, if a weak-limbed Rhaurn can kill the beasts, then the Kharnacks can destroy them,” said Renai. “But I still worry about sending our warriors forward. What of the one in the silver armour? Is it not also said that he will return if we face the beasts again?”
“I cannot answer the question of the silver one. He may or may not return. We cannot say, but it is said that he will return.”
“Why have you pledged your warriors?” asked Sledon.
“I have pledged my warriors for two reasons. The first is that these beasts must be stopped at all costs. If it means the destruction of my clan, then at least I can look my ancestors in the eyes and say I tried. The other reason is personal. My friends have asked for my help. I am a Kharnack and I will never turn my back on a friend in need—not now, not ever. That is why I’ve pledged my warriors, why you should pledge your warriors is for you to decide. I will give you some time to think over what we have said here today. We will gather again tomorrow.” Maldino rose and beckoned Rayth to join him. The two men left the tent in silence.
The scene outside surprised Rayth . . . Surrounding the large tent were groups of warriors from each clan with their standards flapping in the breeze. The warriors from rival clans stayed well away from each other, yet the tension between the clansmen was thick as they glared at each other with hatred in their eyes.
The two men made their way to Maldino’s tent. Rayth lifted the grey, oiled canvas flap for the chieftain to enter. They removed their cloaks and sat down by the fire. No one spoke for several minutes then Rayth asked, “How is it that you know about the Dark One?”
Maldino warmed his hands by the fire and looked at his old friend—Fire in the Storm. He remembered the day in Ractenack Pass when a young axe-wielder stood alone defiantly against his clan. The axe-wielder protected his fallen comrade whilst all of the other men in his company ran away. The young Rayth had been injured, but still stood over his friend. Maldino had felt for the man and stopped the a
ttack. He gifted the soldier a sword and named him Fire in the Storm. Rayth had reminded the then-young chieftain of a flame shining out in a blizzard—the one Rhaurn, the fire, standing against the howling Kharnacks, the storm. Maldino had invited the axe-wielder to come visit and to his surprise the man did and spent several seasons with the Silverswords. Good days, thought Maldino, dragging his mind back to the present.
“Sorry, my friend, I did not hear you. I was lost in thought.”
“How come you know of the Dark One?” repeated Rayth.
“We have a tradition among the Kharnacks of passing down knowledge from one generation to another. As a child, we are taught about our ancestors, their achievements and their failures. With such knowledge, the Kharnacks know where they come from and are taught to live with honour and pride.”
“You do not write it down?”
“No. It is passed down to each generation as spoken words. Mothers usually tell their children the great stories of our ancestors. Then that child will pass the knowledge on to their children and so on. There is no need for paper. I have found that with paper the feel of the events are lost and if the paper is lost, then so is the knowledge.”
Rayth nodded in appreciation. “So, who is the silver one?”
“It is said he was one of four protectors of the Dark One, who we call the black-armoured one. We are told the silver one was touched by purity and turned against the Dark One. He helped give men courage and they defeated the Dark One and his beasts. It is said that if the Dark One returns, then he will again come to our aid.”
“So, who is he?”
“His true name cannot be spoken unless you want to feel his wrath. Indeed, only a few know his true name.”
“Do you know his true name?” asked Rayth inquisitively.
Maldino did not answer the question; he just held the Rhaurn’s gaze.
“What did you think of today?” asked Rayth after a few seconds of silence, knowing the chieftain would not answer his last question.
“I’m not too sure. Each chieftain has his own fears and worries, but that is for the individual to overcome. There is much hate between some of the clans and that may hinder us. We must wait and see what happens.”
“Aren’t you worried about leaving them together alone?”
“No. They are in a tent of peace and it’s a safe place for all. It would be a sacrilege for any to shed blood in such a place. The chieftain caught shedding blood would die under the host’s blade. Then all of his belongings, his clan, would be forfeited to the host clan’s chieftain. No, there will be peace. The men have too much to lose.”
For the rest of the day Maldino and Rayth rested. There was not much to do except to wait until dawn the next day. That evening Maldino’s son, Kavlon, and the clan’s champion, Chahar, joined the men for a meal. The men ate a rich stew served by women of the clan. Maldino’s wife had died from a fever many years earlier and the man had not married again. If asked he would say he was married to the clan.
Kavlon spoke with Rayth. He asked him about Dax, Tanas, and Thade. Kavlon had met the men when they went to the Grey Castle to kill General Polalic. Dax had finally killed the general when the Dark Brethren attacked the group. Dax had been hunting the general to avenge the death of his friend Gammel. Rayth spoke fondly of the three men well into the early hours.
At dawn Rayth rose, dressed, and wandered from the tent. As usual, Maldino was already up seeing to his clan, instructing hunting parties where to travel. In the mountains, hunting parties could be gone for a couple of weeks looking for food for the clan. Being the largest clan, Maldino needed to ensure hunting parties were constantly searching for food.
Maldino spotted and greeted Rayth, “Well met, Fire in the Storm. Sleep well?”
Before Rayth could answer, a shrill scream erupted from the peace tent. Maldino raced over to the large tent and ducked inside. He looked around and saw the Crossbones champion cradling Monetar’s lifeless body.
CHAPTER 15
“NO!” SCREAMED THE Crossbones champion.
Maldino’s eyes scanned the men around the fire. He looked at each chieftain, gauging their reaction. Dnambi whispered something into his champion’s ear. The fat chieftain looked accusingly towards Renai. The Whitecats chieftain had a shocked expression on his face. His champion glared at the dead chieftain, his expression unreadable. Gamada was also watching the Whitecats chieftain. He tapped his champion’s leg and spoke softly to the warrior. Sledon sat silently with his champion standing behind him with his massive arms folded across his barrel chest.
The Crossbones champion screamed again and lowered the dead chieftain to his blanket. He rose slowly, his dark eyes hooded. He stalked around the fire to stand next to the Whitecats chieftain and his champion turned to face his Crossbones counterpart. The warrior had his right hand on the hilt of his sword.
“You scum! You will die for this atrocity. My name is Vakidor. Remember my name for I will kill you,” hissed the Crossbones clansman, “and carve my name into your flesh.”
Renai stood and faced the powerful clansman. “This had nothing to do with me. I hate your clan, but I would never defile a peace tent. That’s sacrilege.”
“What would scum like you know about such things? You’re nothing but offal.” The Crossbones champion hawked and spat at Renai’s feet. Renai’s champion stepped forward, but Renai raised his arm to stop the clansman.
“I did not do this. I did not order this. I swear it on my ancestors.”
“More scum!” shouted Vakidor.
Renai’s voice turned cold and even. “I will not have you saying anything bad about my ancestors.”
“Enough!” roared Maldino. “There has been an atrocity committed in my peace tent and I will get to the bottom of this. Vakidor, stand down.”
The Crossbones champion stared at Maldino for a long time. The tent was charged with tension as the two battle hardened warriors held each other’s gaze. Then Vakidor nodded and returned to his dead chieftain.
“Thank you, Vakidor. Now did anyone see anything last night?” No one answered. “I cannot believe clansmen such as yourselves could sleep when someone is stalking around you.”
Sledon spoke first. “I saw Renai’s champion moving during the night.”
“See, it was those scum!” shouted Vakidor lurching to his feet.
“Vakidor, sit down!” bellowed Maldino. He turned to Rayth. “My friend, this is a Kharnack matter and it must be settled among ourselves.”
“I understand.”
“Can you tell Chahar to come and bring Zilra?”
Rayth nodded and walked from the camp. He looked at the Silverswords clansmen waiting for their chieftain. They had heard the screaming but did not know what had happened. All of the different clan warriors were armed and standing—ready.
Rayth walked through the large Silverswords camp and found Chahar.
“Chahar, Maldino would like you in the peace tent and he said for you to bring Zilra.” The Silverswords champion nodded and walked off to find the woman.
***
Chahar entered the peace tent with an old woman at his side. Zilra was the oldest woman in the clan, yet she was far more. She was a seer and healer. Zilra did not have much magic power, and mainly used her knowledge of herbs to heal. However, she had one power, the ability to see the truth.
“Zilra,” called Maldino, who sat close to Monetar’s body. The old woman shuffled over and stood before her chieftain. “A foul murder has been committed in this sacred place of peace. I want to know who perpetrated this act of violence.”
The old woman nodded and laughed. The sound was a rasping, dry cackle. “Let them speak and I will seek the truth, Cloud Rider,” she said with a thin smile.
Maldino looked around the tent and his gaze stopped at Renai. “Rise brother Kharnack, and speak.”
Renai rose to his feet and swallowed. He could sense all eyes were burning into his face. He cleared his dry throat. “I am Renai of the
Whitecats. My champion and I did not have anything to do with this heinous act.” Renai’s voice was clear and strong. He waited for the old woman to reply.
“Red Hawk of the Whitecats clan, you speak the truth,” replied the woman.
Renai nodded to the woman and sat down.
“What rubbish is this?” said one of the other chieftains who rose smoothly to his feet. “Those two clans have had a blood feud for generations. It must have been him or his champion who killed Monetar. Everyone here knows it. And who is this useless old hag?”
Zilra shuffled forward a couple of steps and looked up at the chieftain. Slowly, she turned to Maldino and gave a subtle single nod. The Silverswords chieftain instantly knew what it meant. He rose smoothly and stood before the standing chieftain.
“Zilra is indeed an old hag—the oldest—but she’s far from useless. You see she’s a seer, and she has the power to see if someone is speaking the truth. She has been tested time and time again and never proved wrong.” Maldino turned and faced the other chieftains. “Zilra is never wrong when it comes to finding the truth.” In one swift motion, Maldino drew his sword, spun on his heels, and decapitated Sledon. In silence, his head thudded against the ground and his body crumpled. Nothing else moved, except for blood pumping from the wound and dripping from Maldino’s blade. All eyes were locked on the body. Maldino turned in a circle and looked at each chieftain.
“I am host and it’s my duty to avenge our dead chieftain. I have avenged his death. As Kharnack law dictates, all of Sledon’s belongings are mine. His clan is now mine. Does anyone here challenge my right?”
Dnambi rose to his feet. “I do not challenge your rights, brother, I second them. But why did he do it?”
Maldino turned to Sledon’s champion. The warrior fell to his knees and bowed low so his head touched the ground. “My chieftain was a greedy man and wanted a bigger clan. His plan was to kill all in this tent and then rule all. I tried to talk him out of it, but . . . ”
