It had been a week since his trial. Currently, Elyar was fixing the pannaling on a vassal’s roof. It had been damaged during a winter storm and he was happy to do something that would take his mind off of, well things. This was the kind of work he had been doing over the last week. Back breaking work. He usually hated it, but things had changed a little.
His mind snapped back to attention as his foot slipped and his knee crashed into the roof. Ouch! He winced as the pain throbbed for a few minutes before it turned dull. That’ll hurt for a few days. He nailed the last tiles into place and walked over to his latter. We slowly lowered himself onto it and descended to the ground. He was in one of the many side allies that could be found between the cottages. It was narrow and made carrying a latter difficult. It was really just two boards with smaller flat boards nailed in a perpendicular fashion. While usefull, Elyar never felt safe walking up the rikidy steps. Once his feet were safe on the gro und he took a breathe and prepared to find his father.
Elyar grabbed the latter and headed toward where his father and brothers had been. When he neared he saw them packing up their stuff. There was a wooden cart full of roofing, boards, hammers, nails, and any other tool used for house repair. Two of his brothers were there, except for Yonn. He was out helping a vassal get his field underway. The vassal’s father just passed away and the young lad was over his head.
“Are we done already?” Elyar asked.
His father replied while loading a large armful of roofing into the cart, “no, we have to finish preparing for the Spring Market. We leave tomorrow, remember?”
Elyar had completely forgotten. “Right…I forgot about that.” Elyar responded as he placed the latter next to the others. He stood by the cart fidgeting with a string on his shirt staring off at a group of birds flying through a cloud. Are those ravens or just a flock of birds?
“Elyar!” Called Pitre again. “Can you help me unload the cart before we head to the hall?” Pitre yelled while knocking his hand against Elyar’s head. Jarred back into the present, Elyar blinked and shook his head a bit before responding.
“Yeah, sorry. Yes I can help.”
Edaam looked around to check if they missed anything and then said, “Good. You boys finish up and I’ll go make sure the e-steeds are ready for tomorrow.” He quickly walked off and Andru followed behind. Elyar thought he should stay and help, but he wasn’t about to make a scene.
“Are you ok, brother?” Pitre asked while he looked at Elyar for a moment while Elyar stared at Andru’s back.
“Yeah. Why?” Elyar responded defensively. “I haven’t slept well the last few nights. That’s all.”
“If you say so.” Pitre paused for a moment and then continued, “lets get this stuff unloaded. I still have quite a bit of packing to do. It is a th ree day journey to Fisc Val.”
“Yeah, whatever. You always pack to much so I think you’ll be fine.” Elyar tried jocking back. A smile appeared on Pitre’s face and he started laughing.
“I do not pack to much. You never know when you are going to need something. So I like being prepared.”
Elyar began smiling as well. He started thinking about how Pitre’s
bag was always twice as big as the rest of theirs. It always made him look silly. They continued joking as they led the animals and cart to the barn at the edge of Erast. Elyar could feel his spirits rise a little. Maybe things won’t be as bad as he thought.
Once they had everything unloaded they began the long walk back
to the Great Hall
Elyar shifted on his e-steed. He hated riding them. They were uncomfortable and he didn’t like the way they smelled. They always reminded him of dust and some form of oil that he could never place. He prefered walking. But the trip to Fisc Val was already a three day journal and he didn’t feel like it taking any longer than it needed to. Shifting again he placed his hand on his lower back. Grimicing, he tried stretching while still in the saddle. It rarely helped but he had to try something.
They were on their second day of traveling. This was the worst day in Elyar’s opinion. His body was sore, his mind was bored from the slow travel, and he and his brothers had run out of things to talk about. Now they slowly moved in silence. He took up the rear alongside Yonn. Pietre and Andru rod a few yards ahead. Then the carriage they were going to carry what they purchased in. Right now it only contained a few of their belongings. In front of the carriage led Edaam and a small retinu of menat-arms surrounded their party. The empire was safe, but brigands were always a possibility.
The story of Methusala and the Giant popped in Elyar’s head which made him smile. I Wish a giant would attack. At least that would be interesting. Elyar thought. He carried his newly acquired sword on his back. Ever since earning his blade in the trial he had a small itch to use it. It needed to be scratched.
Their path followed a warn trail that led from the Great Hall through a low mountain pass and into the next valley where Val was. It was more western than the Feud but still in the north eastern portion of the empire. Val was larger with flater terrain and a richer population. Most of the vassals there were farmers like in the Feud, but they also had a large iron mining trade that enriched the lord. Elyar didn’t know much about Val, but he remembered his father once saying that Lord Wilmot was not a kind lord. He cared for profit, and that was all.
At the moment, Elyar looked around and saw trees. Granite rock and trees. They were in the middle of the pass and there was not a lot to look at. Within the next few hours they would leave the pass and start meandering down toward the bottom of the valley. Edaam told them that morning that they would camp at the other end of the pass. His father never trusted passes or small valleys. He was ambushed once as a younger man and he never forgot that memory. Looking around Elyar understood why. There were half a dozen places an archer could fire from. Another half dozen places to hide a swordsman.
Elyar thought he heard a snap of a twig to his right. His eyes shot around looking for whatever caused the snap. But he didn’t see anything. Am I paranoid now? He thought to himself after a few minutes on alert.
“Yonn, did you hear a snap a moment ago?” Elyar inquired trying to break the silence.
Thinking for a moment, Yonn responded, “I heared something, yeah, but it didn’t sound like anything unusual. There have been a few snaps. The E-bulls aren’t very quiet.” Yonn began chuckling as he saw how big his little brother’s eyes had gotten. “Why? You scared of goblins in the forest?”
“No!” Elyar responded a little louder than he meant to. Andru and Pitre looked back to see what the commotion was. Elyar waved awkwar dly and they turned around shaking their heads.
They all went back to the silence of before. But Elyar kept darting his eyes around the forest. He didn’t want to be attacked unawares. But nothing happened. The hours dronned by and the finally started descending. Eventually they found a large enough field that was mostly flat.
“We will set up camp here!” Yelled Edaam. Immedietly the men-atarms jumped into set up their tents and the tent of their lord. Elyar and his brothers still had to make their own tents. A man rushed by Elyar carrying a load of firewood. Elyar dismounted and began untying the pack with his tent.
Unlike the night before, Elyar had no trouble setting up his little camp within the camp. His tent went up quickly and he unrolled his sleeping blankets. After that he set up a little section for his own personal fire. It had gotten cold the night before and Elyar wanted something to keep him warm.
Their camp was set up in two circles. The inner circle contained the cart and Elyar’s family. The outer circle contained the fifteen men-atarms that traveled with them. It was their duty to serve their lord and protect him at any cost. If they were attacked, it was their job to act as a shield. Elyar knew they took their job very seriously. Soon their camp was ready and Elyar could smell a nice dinner being cooked. His stomach gurgled softly. he patted it and walked closer to the larger fire where a cook was preparing dinner.
Most of the soldiers plus his family was already there. Most of the men wore simple chainmail with a clothe tunic over. They had leather or steel bracers and all had the symbol of the Feud on their chest. It was an eclipsed moon with two stars inside the crescent. Elyar didn’t know what it meant.
Dinner went by quickly. He sat around his brothers while he watched the soldiers sit on the other side of the fire. Elyar didn’t know any of the men, but they had grown up around his brothers and father. Suddenly, shortly after dinner was done, one man produced a small guitar and starting strumming a song. It was a slow song that Elyar didn’t recognize. After a few minutes he closed his eyes to enjoy the pleasant melody.
At first he thought it was his imagination, but a soft masculine voice began singing. The words were quiet at first and Elyar couldn’t make out what he was saying. But then the voice became more confident and song,
Farewell my lass, today is my last,
Farewell for tonight, I will miss you deeply.
Far away I go to land unknown, sail I go on a ship with a tall mast, Flee your love for me not, I pray to return to love sweetly.
Oh, oh, oh
Farewell my land, birthplace of my heart, Farewell my home, I go to fight for thee.
Though I may never return, death for thee might be my part, A death worth the sagas, shall be for me.
Oh, oh, oh
After the second verse the majority of the soldiers were singing.
They continued through the song describing a war in a far off land. Battles with undiscribable monsters and terrible loses. Verses of fear, betrayal, and loss of comrades. The song ended as it had begun. The lone singer concluded his tale with the death of the hero. Killed by a blade carried by his sworn enemy.
Slowly, one by one, the soldiers and his family all went to sleep. Elyar sat alone. But he enjoyed the fire and the peace the song had given him. After a while a soft breeze picked up and brushed Elyar’s hair. Something went across his neck and Elyar jumped in his seat trying to see what it was. After looking around he concluded it was just a piece of his hair.
“Songs like that can make one skiddish.” Said a voice from the other side. Elyar moved to see who spoke. He thought he had been alone. There sat the singer. “May I join you, young lord?” He asked looking acr oss at him.
“Of course.” Elyar replied studying the man. He hadn’t seen him while he sang, but he recognized the voice. When he stood, Elyar got a good view of the man who carried Elyar across seas and wars. He was tall for a vassal, maybe a little shorter than Elyar medium light colored skin. he had wavy brown locks that barely hit his eyes. A wide smile graced his face and his eyes danced in the fire. He was barely older than Elyar. Maybe Andru’s age Elyar figured. He walked over and plopped himself beside his new compaion.
“Jerome’s the name, and I already know yours.” He extended his ri ght hand to shake. They locked arms in a strong embrace.
“Yes…” Elyar responded. He got tired always being known by every one around him. “That was a beautiful song earlier.”
“Well thank you. I learned it from some sailers who fought near us during the summer raid two years ago. Routy men, but man could they sing!” Jerome boustrously declared. Elyar was taken aback for a moment by the energy pouring from Jerome. “I was very glad your father let me
join your trip.” Jerome continued without misssing a beat. “I am sick of sitting around all winter. I need action!”
“Hopefully we don’t get any real action this trip.” Elyar said while glancing around again.
“Well I be, is the young lord scared?”
“No!” Responded Elyar a little to quickly. “I am not scared. Just don’t want to engage in a battle that isn’t necessary.”
Jerome chuckled while he pulled a flask out of pouch on his belt. “Drink?”
Elyar’s eyes lit up for a moment. Of course he had drunk wine at the Great Hall. But he had never been offered anything stronger. His father was very against strong drink of any form. “Yes please!” Elyar gleefuly responded. Jerome passed the flask over and Elyar took his first swig of alcohol. He immediately spat it out.
“That is disgusting!” Elyar said still trying to spit out whatever was left.
Nearly falling from laughter, Jerome said, “yes, it can take some gett ing used to!”
They continued talking about growing up on the Feud. Elyar discussing the duties and life of a lordling and Jerome that of a vassal. Early night turned old as they talked. As if out of nowhere, Jerome stopped talking. His head cocked to the side like he was listening.
“What is it?” Elyar asked. Before he could say anything else Jerome’s hand shot up silencing Elyar.
“I don’t think we are alone.” Jerome whispered. He listened for a few more minutes then asked, “do you have that fancy sword of yours?”
“I have my sword, but it’s not fancy.” Elyar responded
“Any sword that can become engulfed in fire is fancy.” Jerome replied while standing up. “I would encourge you to draw it. Things are about to get interesting.”
Like a scene in a play, a yell shattered the silence as a thug ran into the firelight. Jerome swiftly drew his sword, faced the man head on, and swung at the man. The thug blocked the strike, but the sword nearly sliced the thug’s club in two. Another quick swing toward the chest and the thug was on the ground. He gurgled for a second before his eyes went dim.
Elyar stared at what just happened. He could feel his face become pale. Then a force from his stomach juttesened up and he leaned over heaving. Jerome looked at him, smiled a quick mischievous grin, and then yelled, “BANDITS!” That is when all hell broke loose.
A dozen shadows appeared on the edge of the fire charging them. Elyar regained his composure quickly, drew his sword, and looked at Jerome. After Jerome yelled, he could hear the men-at-arms begin rustling in their tents but would they be ready in time? The first man reached Jerome while two others behind him charged Elyar. Elyar swallowed trying to clear his dry throat while his breathing became erratic. Jerome blocked the strike aimed at his right side while Elyar took a step backward.
“Elyar, your sword!” Yelled Jerome. As the closest of the two men lif-
ted his sword to strike Elyar a gigantic shadow slammed into him launching him to the ground. The other man quickly turned to see who had attacked his comrade when a large sword swung at him. The thug barely had time to block the sword with his own as Lord Edaam struck again. This time he attack with an overhead swing aiming at the skull of the thug. He was able to block the attack, but the strength of the blow brought both swords into the man’s skull rendering it nearly in two. Lord Edaam kicked the now dead attack to dislodge his sword, before turning to Elyar.
“Now is the time to show your metal, son.” Lord Edaam said to Elyar. Elyar’s father wore a bracer on his right arm while still in his night clothes. He looked fierce and like a madman at the same time. With that, Edaam joined Jerome as they yelled a war cry and lept at the remaining attackers. Elyar stared at the dead man at his feat, then at his sword, then at the first thug who was beginning to get to his feat. Elyar gulped again before raising his sword to defend himself.
The thug shook his head as he quickly surveyed the firelit scene. He saw his dead comrade and then noticed the boy before him. Elyar saw the glint of anger in his eyes as he raised his sword before charging. Elyar took a few steps back trying to get away from the man. The thug took a swing at Elyar which he blocked the attack. Then the man attack with another, and another, and another. Reigning ruthless blows against Elyar. Each strike pushed Elyar farther and farther away from the fire. Fear swelled up in his stomach as the blows pounded his sword. He took one last step back trying to turn and run, but his foot caught a log on the ground. He was falling. In desperation he flung his sword so he could use both hands to catch himself. His head hit a rock and his vision went black for a moment.
The last thing Elyar saw before he hit the ground was the sinister grin before him. Then hard earth. The air fled his body, candlelight flashed before his closed eyes, and a sharp pain erupted on the back of his head. He tried holding his sword in front of his, but with the cacophany of lights, pain, and no air he had no idea if he was actually doing anything. Am I dead? The thought flashed in his mind and then he felt weight against his outstretched arms. The weight began crushing him and he had an even harder time breathing.
His eyes popped open as he gasped for breath. He was twenty feet or so away from the fire lying flat on his back. As he focused his eyes, he saw Jerome pulling his sword out of the last thug and his father surveying the now battlefield. There were other men-at-arms standing with an assortment of weapons, armor, and nightclothes. None were ready for a battle, and if it was at a different time, they would make for a very funny scene.
A throbbing sensation on the back of Elyar’s head made its presence known. He tried reaching back to feel his wound, but his hand wouldn’t move. That is when he fully noticed the weight on his chest. Elyar looked down and saw a dead man laying on him with his sword sticking out of his chest. The man’s sword was a foot away from them and blood was leaking onto Elyar before pooling on the ground around them. He was heavy, and Elyar was exhausted and still struggling to breathe. He wasn’t sure if he could get him off him.
A yell sounded from near the campfire. Elyar couldn’t tell who it came from or why, but it sounded pained.
“Elyar!” This time Elyar knew that it was his father’s voice. Elyar could hear the heavy footsteps of Edaam. He was too exhausted to notice, but every step shot a small spike of pain in his body. He ran up to Elyar and threw the man off of him. Elyar took in a full breath of air filling his chest with much needed air. But the action also sent more pain through his head.
His father wrapped his blood stained arms around him and said thr ough tears “Oh, my son. I thought you were dead!”
“I thought I was as well, Father.” Elyar croaked. “I tripped and I gu-
ess he fell on my sword.” Elyar’s cheeks felt hot, but he wasn’t sure if it was from adrenalin or embarasement. How could the son of a duke trip over a log during his first battle.
Sniffing some tears back Edaam softly laughed, “but you survived your first battle. They aren’t all heroic and mighty.” He lifted Elyar off the ground and he started brushing the dirt and blood off himself. Once he realized it was futile, Elyar started looking around. Two of their men had died and it seemed all of the bandits had been slain. The men had lain their dead comrades by the fire. They would be taken home for a pro per burial.
“What happened to the bandits?” Elyar asked. Not sure if he really wanted to know.
“They will be put in a grave to be forgotten.” Edaam spat. “Only
men of filth attack travelers. They will be disposed of as they deserve.”
Elyar felt another round of sickness hit his stomach. He wasn’t sure what was causing it, but he knew he had plenty of options to pick from. Rubbing the sore spot on his head Elyar asked, “Do you mind if I go to my tent? I…”
“Yes, you do not need to be out here for this. Get rest. You had a busy night.” Edaam interupted.
“Thanks.” Elyar mumbled before walking toward his tent. He looked down and saw a little red stain on his hands, not enough to cause him any concern. As he rounded the fire, he saw Yonn and Pitre taking care of something he didn’t want to know. They gave him a nod before return ing to their task. Elyar knew they would talk in the morning.
He quickly reached his tent, closed the loops holding the flaps open, hit the blankets, and let darkness overcome him.
A small beam of light reached into the recess of Elyar’s tent as he was gently nudged by the dawn’s soft hand. The glow passed over his closed eyes caressing him. His eyes shoot open as he quickly sits up in bed. Images of the man’s grotesque face flashed before his eyes. a Raised sword aiming to end his life. He looked down to see if the blood was still there. No. He had gotten it off his hands before bed. But it was still on his clothes. Furiously he stripped everything he wore heedless of the chilly air. He flung them toward the entrance and sat on the blankets that made up his bed as tears trickled down his face. Naked, Elyar couldn’t stop sorrow from enveloping him like the darkness had before.
After a few minutes he wiped his eyes dry and dressed himself. Taking the flung clothes, he opened the flap and quickly stepped outside.
The air was colder out here. The sun just peaking over the trees. His was one of the first tents hit by its arrows. A few soldiers could be seen ending their patrol. Elyar lowered his head and quickly walked over to the small fire still burning. Mostly coals, but it would do. Elyar found the hottest spot he could and let the clothes fall. Nothing happened at first and then they burst into flames. Fire engulfed the remnants of what he had done. But why didn’t he feel purified? He turned back allowing the cold to enter into his heart. Before he left the fire, he saw a stain on the ground near the log that had caught his leg. He walked on and began tearing down his tent.
It was just before midday when they saw Val come into sight. Most of that time they had meandered down the pass until they were on the valley floor. Trees had disappeared about halfway down. The air had turned dry and the ground rocky. As they had continued descending, the world continued to change. Elyar grew up in a world full of green, animals, and life. Here, there was only dirt, rocks, and a lonely lizard.
They kept traveling as the city slowly emerged. Elyar knew Erast was a small village and the Great Hall, just that, a hall. But the size of Val shocked him. It was a walled city with the village crowding the outside. Hovels turned into houses. Houses into mansions as they became the wall that surrounded the lord of Val’s keep. Edaam had told Elyar that
this wasn’t a powerful city, but to Elyar, it was gigantic. The size and won der of Val took Elyar’s mind off of what he had been dwelling on before.
The desert had turned into a grassland by the time they reached the outskirts of Val. His first impression was stone. Everything was made of stone. Even the houses at the edge of the village were made of stone. People were hurriedly going about their day. Women were sweeping out their homes, doing laundry, or a dozen other jobs that Elyar did and didn’t recognize. Children scurried around as well. Older kids helped th eir mothers while younger ones played near their homes in the street.
Unlike in Erast, there were men everywhere. Most men at home would be in their shops working or out in the fields. Here, there were men working, walking, sitting, smoking, and Elyar had no idea what else. Elyar was at the back of the train. He would ask his father later. For now he just gawked. The events of last night gone from his mind.
The Walls slowly crept higher and higher. By the time they had reached the barrior, they were nearly fifty feet tall. Everything was solid granite. The keeps were another twenty or so feet taller than the walls.
Behind all that, the lord’s tower rose high above forming an imposing fortress.
After looking at the wall longer than he probably should have, Elyar noticed the gate. He looked around the party to see if anyone had noticed his gawking. Jerome smiled at him and chuckled before turning back. Jerome had noticed, but it did not look like anyone else had. He turned his attention forward. There was the gate. It stood about thirty feet tall and had iron bars in front of an iron door. The bars were raised up, but the bottom two feet could still be seen. The doors were swung inward to allow people into the fortress. Not many people were walking in or out. Mostly what looked like servants of the Valian lord. A local shop keeper or two who had business inside could also be seen, but besides that the door was pretty empty. Except for the guards standing at attention.
The guard on the left, a short portly man with a brown mustach yelled, “halt!” He stepped forward and his armor clanked. He wore a traditional chainmail shirt with a tunic over it. He had bracers on his arms and greaves on his shins. Shiny leather boots protected his feet, but Elyar didn’t see any leg armor. Just normal cotton pants.
“What business do ye have with the Lord of Val?” He asked with an odd drawl.
“I am Lord Edaam of the Feud here for the Spring Market and the
Feast of Fiscs.” Edaam announced with a strong commanding voice. The guard studied Edaam for a second the said, “right, I am sorry mi
Lord. I am knew and still dit know all the lords of mi area.”
“It is alright. But you better learn them quick. Not all the lords are as giving as I.” Lord Edaam said half seriously half sarcastically.
“Ye be right, mi lord, one hundred thanks.” The guard said back as they began to enter the fortress.
Elyar looked up, and could only see granite.