Magic of Ruyn

by RG Long

  Ealrin had not stopped to consider if Teresa were the sort of ruler who would put someone in the castle's dungeons if they offended her. Now he wished he had given the matter more thought.

  Stopping a few paces from the bottom of the stairs, Ealrin bowed low.

  “Milady,” he said. His voice sounded strange. Like his throat needed a good clearing.

  He stared down at the stone floor, much aware of the beating of his own heart.

  Teresa let out a sigh, and Ealrin began to sweat.

  This is it, he thought.

  “Ealrin Bealouve,” she began to say. He noted that her voice was quivering. Was it with rage? Or some other emotion?

  The answer would be lost as the doors to the hall swung open and six guards ran into the chamber, startling Gorplin awake and sending him rolling off the table in a slew of cursing.

  “Milady! Outside the walls! Goblins!”

  8: Of Necessity

  The sound of catapults loosing their payloads echoed throughout the castle walls. Ealrin ran in a full sprint behind Teresa and the guards who had alerted her to the attack. He caught bits and pieces of the information one of them was shouting at her over the din.

  “Must have snuck up through the trees during the night... Can't tell how many... We've only counted four catapults...”

  Not dire news. But no reason to celebrate either.

  The company finally came to a halt at one of the balconies of the castle. From here, it was easy to tell that the city was under attack. Missiles flew over the walls and crashed into buildings, scattering roofs and people in all directions. The familiar colors of maroon and gold were gathering upon the outer walls and shooting arrows at an unseen foe. Teresa beat the railing of the balcony with her fist.

  “Our respite has ended,” she said as her eyes scanned the walls of the city. Thoran was a mountain fortification, with only one true wall at the southern end. Natural stone protected the rest of the citizens from invasion.

  A huge rock soared over the wall and landed atop one of the nicer stores the city had to offer. Nearly within a stones throw of the castle wall.

  “We must retaliate and neutralize those catapults. Have they attempted to scale the wall yet, officer?”

  “No, Milady. We've seen no ladders yet. They keep just behind the tree line and fire from within.

  Teresa snarled the word “Cowards,” before she began to bark orders at those assembled.

  “Officer, you will direct your men to return fire at any goblin who dares to show its face. And remember to inform those on the wall not to touch the projectiles they send at us. They're probably poisoned. I will join you momentarily.”

  The officer saluted and left the balcony. Teresa then turned her attention to the others gathered there.

  “You two ensure that those incapable of fighting are escorted into the castle courtyard and out of harm's way. You, see to the stockpiles in the storehouses and report back to me with how long we can withstand a siege. And you...”

  She pointed at the last soldier who had yet to be given orders but was interrupted before she could complete her sentence. The man gave a sharp click of his heels and a salute.

  “Milady, we are ready to defend you unto death!”

  Teresa blinked a moment as she considered this statement. Her finger was still pointing in his direction.

  Words failed her for a moment. Ealrin stared at the youth.

  He looked no older than twenty. Red haired and blue eyed. Though these two features were distinct, he was neither attractive nor offensive to the eyes. He was quite ordinary apart from his red hair. Ealrin hadn't seen a single sole in Thoran with red hair save for this young soldier.

  “What's your name?”

  “Bertrom Whiteshield, Milady.”

  Teresa looked him over for a moment.

  “I have trained most of the young soldiers in Thoran's army. I don't have a perfect memory, but I doubt I would forget your red hair. You aren't from Thoran are you?”

  It was not an accusatory statement, but a curious question. Ealrin knew what it sounded like when Teresa was going after someone. He was only recently one of her targets. Her voice held more curiosity than scorn. And yet she transfixed this man.

  “No ma’am. I'm from Loran. I joined the army right before the battle against the Southern Republic.”

  “What of your family?” she asked.

  Bertrom eyes sank at her question.

  “The war has taken much from those who live in Thoran, Milady. You are not the only one to lose those dearest to you.”

  Ealrin's heart broke for this young man. How many others shared his story? Family and home stolen from them in a time of violence and madness?

  “And you would lay down your life for mine?” Teresa asked him, still holding him in her gaze.

  Bertrom paused a moment. The glaze in his eyes disappeared and was replaced with a resolute determination. He dropped his salute and bowed before her.

  “Milady, your father was a good king. Our lands have prospered under him. Your brothers are traveling in the north. The whole kingdom knows that. You are all that remains of the house of Thoran to lead us in these troubled times. You are our ruler, and I am your subject. What other service might I give my princess?”

  Ealrin didn't know which was stranger to him: the sight of someone bowing before Teresa and saying he would willingly give his life for hers, or the look of confusion on Teresa's face.

  Teresa inhaled deeply and looked directly at Ealrin, though her words were a command to Bertrom.

  “I would have you come with me Bertrom. I am going to show you one of the secrets of Thoran. But first, we'll need to gather the King’s Swords. And their equipment for a journey.”

  “Bah! About time someone noticed I was standing here!”

  Ealrin turned around to see a very groggy and hungover Gorplin leaning on his axe in the doorway.

  “Where's everyone else, then?” he asked as he picked something out of his teeth with his little finger.

  AFTER RUNNING THROUGHOUT the castle, signaling to a guard every so often, Teresa, Ealrin and Bertrom had gathered most of the King’s Swords. Only one remained.

  “Where's Lote?” Tory asked as they all gathered in front of a large tapestry that depicted a former King of Thoran defending the castle from troll invaders.

  In answer to his question, the tapestry moved aside as a door behind it was pushed open.

  “I've been waiting for you, as requested,” Lote said as she stepped from the door. Ealrin felt a cool rush of wind come from the opened portal. A quick look into it showed him only a dark hallway.

  “What are your orders, Milady?” Lote asked Teresa. “Why have us get our packs when there are enemies at our gate? Are we to join the fight?”

  Teresa considered them all for a moment, looking each in the face.

  “No,” she said as another catapult's missile crashed into the city, causing the castle to give a small shudder. “You're going north, as discussed last night.”

  There was an awkward shuffling amongst the ranks of the Swords.

  “Bah, but what about you?” Gorplin said incredulously and obviously unaware of the awkwardness of the situation. “Uh, Milady,” he added hastily as he glanced and saw Lote staring daggers at him.

  Teresa sighed and began her answer.

  “I had a revelation recently. This morning actually. I am not a suitable ruler. My father was a king beyond all others and not just in my eyes,” Teresa glanced at Bertrom with this statement. “But his was a time of peace. Now we are at war. I am not a queen. I am a warrior. It seems that is what this kingdom is in need of. I wanted to leave so that someone more qualified might rule in my stead. I see that was selfish. What my country needs is aid from the north and a general to lead them into battle. I will lead them, as is my duty. I'm counting on you all to get aid. If I have learned anything from my time on the continent of Ruyn, it is that as one we may fail. It is when we unite that we accompli
sh greatness. Go quickly, Swords. And return with aid as soon as you are able. This may be only the first of many battles.”

  Teresa drew her sword and held it high.

  All those who stood around mimicked her. All except one.

  “Bertrom Whiteshield,” Teresa said as she looked to him. “I would have you raise your sword along with ours.”

  The red headed youth looked confused.

  “Milady?” he asked.

  “I'm sending you on a journey with a friend of mine,” she said as she looked over at Ealrin. Bertrom looked from Ealrin to Teresa and then back again.

  “A journey?” he repeated.

  “And,” she added, “I am making you a member of the King’s Swords.”

  THREE TORCHES WERE all that lit the passageway the six now walked along. Roughly hewn from the mountain, Ealrin was sure Teresa had actually refused to come due to a fear of enclosed spaces. The tunnel was barely tall enough for Ealrin to stand straight up. Tory, who was a bit taller than he, had to stoop to avoid hitting his head. To touch the sides of the tunnel, all Ealrin had to do was to stretch out his arms. Looking ahead, he knew Lote wanted to be the leader so that she could see the sunshine on the other side of the tunnel first. Lote hated being underground.

  Gorplin, however, was in his element.

  “Ah! Now this is more like it! Give me a tunnel and a pick any time and I'll show you what real work looks like! This tunnel could use some reinforcement on the left and a little bit of...”

  Ealrin tried to block out the dwarf's ramblings. He almost felt sorry for Gaflion, who said so little, for having to accompany the talkative dwarf on this quest.

  “Now this rock here is a fine specimen of limestone! Look at the deposits on the side...”

  Well, maybe Ealrin didn't feel quite so bad after all.

  The only thing Ealrin regretted was not saying bye to Blume. The journey that had brought them to Thoran had been one of peril and haste. Yet he felt a bond with the young girl, as he imagined a father might care for a daughter.

  Perhaps Teresa would be able to explain to the girl, after the fighting calmed down, where Ealrin was sent and for what purposes. Blume had proven herself useful on the road and complained very little. Her ability to Speak to the elements through her Rimstone necklace had saved their lives on more than one account. If only a Speaker had accompanied them this time.

  “Light,” Lote called from the front of the group. “Up ahead.”

  “Bah!” called Gorplin. “So soon?”

  A small crack in the mountainside let in the light of the midday suns. It took a few long moments of blinking to adjust his eyes back to the harsh daylight that was in such contrast to the dark tunnel. Ealrin was not all too surprised to see a small contingent of armed shepherds meet them as they exited. Teresa was a true general, not leaving any weakness to be easily exploited. These warriors had obviously protected this exit from Thoran for a long time.

  “The princess sent word ahead of you,” the tallest one said as he saluted the six of them. “May the suns smile down on you in your endeavor.”

  And with the blessing of a shepherd carrying a sword, they were off.

  9: Unplanned Adventures

  Blume was still fuming at Jeremy the next morning when she woke up from what little sleep she had been able to get. The food set out for the morning meal didn't appeal to her furious attitude. Blume had only poked it around her plate. The entire Speaker School ate in a large room in the tower they occupied in Castle Thoran, from the youngest student to the oldest. Something about being a whole unit or some nonsense that Blume was sure was an insignificant detail at the moment. Her mind was on Jeremy's betrayal. She glared at him all through breakfast, ignoring his third attempt at an apology.

  “I swear,” he repeated, “I was just trying to say I was sorry. You didn't have to hex me like you did. Or punch me for that matter.”

  He was rubbing his sore nose. It had recently been punched quite soundly.

  Still fuming at being tattled on and even more upset that he had come into her room without knocking and scared her half to death, Blume was nearly ready to Speak some other curse on him. The only thing holding her back was the watchful eye of Madam Wishter, sitting at her own breakfast table a few paces away from Blume's.

  “The hex was for ratting me out to Wishter. The punch to your nose was for scaring me stiff. Who sneaks into a girl's room without even as much as a knock? You're awful Jeremy. I wish I hadn't ever met you.”

  Jeremy looked hurt and that satisfied Blume for the time being.

  At least he looked like she felt. Blume was tired of being treated like a kid at this school. She was advanced well beyond her peers and felt like she deserved at least some respect. Just looking at Jeremy's hurt nose made her upset. She rose from her spot and was going to find somewhere else to sit. She didn't care if it totally disregarded Madam Wishster's seating chart for the entire school. There had to be an empty seat for a teenage girl to fume in by herself somewhere.

  Unfortunately, she stood up in such a huff that she knocked over her plate of buttered bread and apples. It shattered as soon as it hit the stone floor of the eating area.

  “Miss Dearcrest,” came the familiar voice of the school's matriarch over the morning commotion.

  Blume was sure she was about be scolded, once again, for something that she would consider unfair or at the very least, a trifle.

  Or she would have been, had the entire tower not given a shake as soon as Madam Wishter stood from her chair.

  Dishes and students scattered. The head mistress went down with the rest of them. Blume was one of the few to remain unseated by the sheer fact that she had thrown herself atop her table.

  Several cried out in alarm while others began to rush to the windows to see what would have caused the tremor.

  “Madam Wishter!” called one of the instructors who had scrambled from his seat to a nearby window. Blume recognized him as Mister Feardin. As he turned from the window, his skin drained of all its color. “The castle! It's under attack!”

  THE STAIRS LEADING from the tower into the castle's main halls were a clatter of voices and parading feet. Some of the younger students were in tears, despite the comforting words of teachers and older classmates alike. Others just ran down the spiraling stone steps as quickly as their feet would carry them.

  Blume fell into the latter category.

  She had been in more perilous situations before and was not one to lose her mind over a small thing like a goblin siege on her new home. She was a very mature fourteen years old after all. These were the things she kept reminding herself of as she flew down into the hallway that connected the tower to the main fortification. Teachers were herding students deeper into the castle in order to retreat from any danger that may come hurtling at them.

  Blume was ready to follow instructions and seek asylum in the deeper recesses of the mountain. Past two tapestries and a window was a hallway that lead north, which meant the stones that line the walls were carved from the mountain itself. To be covered by those passageways was to be in the safest place in Thoran. As she was preparing to turn the corner, something caught her eye. Someone running past in maroon and gold armor and two swords sheathed on her back.

  The princess herself.

  Her decision was made in a split second. The school that had taught her about Speaking was great, but using her skills to defend those she loved was more valuable than any test or reading assignment.

  Blume was off to follow Teresa.

  THEY RACED DOWN ONE hall, turned left, and then another and turned right. Blume was becoming winded just trying to keep Teresa in sight. It was a difficult task in part because of the Speaking school's emphasis on learning and neglect of any physical training.

  Sweat poured from her as she chased after the ruler of Thoran.

  After two flights of stairs and three heavy doors, Blume found herself in the royal stables connected to the castle. Teresa was already on he
r horse and urging it down the road and towards the southern wall. A stable attendant who had just finished adjusting Teresa's saddle looked to the open door Teresa stood in and yelled at her.

  “Hey! What are you three doing there! It's dangerous!”

  Three? What is he talking about? Blume thought as she stopped in her tracks.

  Her questioning was ended when she crashed to the floor as both Jeremy and Abigail came bowling over her.

  At first Blume wanted to swear. Loudly. How had these two managed to follow her without her noticing? And why pick now to be so clumsy? Surely they'd be sent back to the castle and all of Blume's hopes of being useful to Teresa would be lost.

  And then, fortune smiled down on her.

  A cart led by three regal looking horses sped by the opening of the gate. In its wait ran several soldiers of Thoran, carrying buckets and swords alike. One of them stopped and grabbed the stable hand by the collar of his shirt.

  “We need every able man down at the wall! You're coming with us!”

  And before the young man could offer any resistance, or better still, before he could chase off Blume and her two uncoordinated followers, he vanished out of the door.

  This gave the three enough time to pick themselves up off of the ground and brush the dirt and grime off of them.

  “What do you think you're doing, following me all the way down here?” Blume yelled as she dusted off the last patch of dirt from her robes.

  “Well, at first I wanted to know why you weren't obeying the rules and seeking shelter with the rest of the Speakers. And then I told Jeremy that you were headed off in the wrong direction. Then the next thing that happened after that was...”

  Jeremy cut her off. Abigail, should she go unchecked, could talk for an entire morning without running out of words or stopping for a breath. For once, Blume was thankful for the dirty little snitch of a classmate.

  “We wanted to know what you were up to,” he said as he cupped a hand to Abigail's mouth.