Chapter Three
When the harvest feast arrived that evening, Dorad took the high seat of the Lord of Enival for himself. Sitting on his right was old Sir Byned, who almost never let his lord out of his sight. On his left sat his lady mother Alis, looking pale and grim, and not like to eat much that evening. The two other seats on the dais were filled by his sister Mari and his little brother Danar.
Since his father had died and Dorad had been raised to the position of Lord of the Stony River County and Castle Enival, there had been many a trying time when he wished he had been in Danar’s place, the youngest son. However, at that moment, he was glad to be a lord. Servants came and went around the Great Hall, which was filled to its limits with people from all over southern Elaech, but each course that they brought to the people they brought to him first. He took the choicest cuts of meats, the best vintages of wines and ales, and the sweetest of the fruits.
There was gaiety in the air that evening, and men laughed and ate for hours. A minstrel had come from the nation of Felinn to the north, and he strummed a long-necked lute skillfully and sang Along the Stony River, a song that had long been Dorad’s favorite. A tall bearded man stood up from the longtable he sat at and grabbed the waist of the nearest serving lass, dragging her into a dance and singing along. Laughter filled the hall as other men and women joined in the dance.
There was one table, however, where everyone sat still as stone. The king’s men from Werach ate the food brought to them without speaking, except to one another, and they did not laugh at the fool who juggled balls of fire, nor did they sing along with the bard. Arrick Laistan sat at the head of that table nearest to the dais, and glared at Dorad every so often while talking to the scarred man who still wore his greatsword. Dorad silently cursed himself for not going through with his treat and forcing the man to eat with the dogs, but his lady mother had been insistent that there would be consequences for making a fool of a man of the king, who was no friend to House Erilion.
“Brother,” came the small voice of his twelve year old brother Danar. The boy stood at Dorad’s side, eyeing Dorad’s plate greedily. He had grown a lot and it looked to Dorad that he had not stopped just yet.
He tousled his little brother’s thick ginger hair. “What is it Danar?” Dorad asked with a smile. He’d not seen his brother for a long while, and seeing him again after his trip into Mallesia made Dorad think on how remarkably similar he looked to their deceased father. “Come to steal my food have you?”
Danar laughed, a high melodious sound that was music to Dorad’s ears. “Of course not, my lord,” he said with a sly smile.
“Then what are you doing over here? You should be sitting with mother.”
A sad look came over Danar’s young face then and his lips turned in a frown. “My friend Handar told me that a stable boy said you were leaving us again tomorrow. But I know that the stableboy is lying, because you’ve only just arrived back home yesterday.”
Gods, word travels fast around here, Dorad thought. He frowned. “I am sorry, Danar, but I’ve been summoned by the king to go to Werach.” He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sir Byned, Sir Errin, and I are leaving for the capital on the morrow.”
Tears were forming in Danar’s eyes, Dorad saw, but the little boy fought hard not to let them spill. “You cannot leave, Dorad, you’ve only just come home!” he said, too loud, although the feasters did not seem to notice that anything was amiss. “You promised that you would teach me to fight as well as you do!”
“And I will keep my promise, Danar, I swear it,” Dorad said. “I will not be long in the capital, if the Gods are on my side, and when I get back I will teach you to fight like a real man, the way father would have, were he still here.”
Upon mention of their father, the floodgates opened and Danar could no longer hold the tears at bay. It had been five years since their father, Lord Ranad Erilion III, who Danar was named for had passed. The memory, however, was still fresh for Danar, and any mention of the man made him cry.
Dorad embraced his brother. “It grows late, Danar, and it would be best if you went back to your chambers for some sleep.” He gave the boy a gentle push, and Danar wiped his tears away and made for the exit.
“Poor lad,” Lady Alis muttered from Dorad’s side. “I ought to go see to him.” She stood from her spot and took a few steps after Danar, before pausing a moment. “Do not be long in Werach, my son. From the moment you enter its gates, you shall have no friends but your own guard. Heed my words, be careful, and come back soon.”
After the door shut behind his lady mother and his young brother, the sounds of merriment from the feast faded from Dorad’s ears and thoughts of his coming trip filled his mind. He lifted a goblet of spiced wine to his lips, but then decided that he had lost his appetite for food, drink, and the company of the people.
The smooth gait of Dorad’s shaggy white palfrey mount was lulling him back into sleep. Dorad had left with the men of the king just before dawn, and the sun was still hidden behind the tall walls of Castle Enival some three miles behind them. Riding on either side of him were Sir Byned and Sir Errin, along with ten men-at-arms trailing along behind.
The trip to the city of Werach was one that Dorad had made only once before, five years ago when he had been sworn in as Lord of the Stony River County by the previous king. He was barely a man grown then, a mere sixteen years old, and he could hardly remember the trip at all. Although Arrick Laistan had told him that it would be a week and a half before they arrived in Werach.
At Dorad’s request, Arrick Laistan and his men rode apart from Dorad’s men. The king’s messenger had made a farce of how disappointed he was that he would not be able to ride beside Dorad, but eventually gave in to the request and rode about half a mile ahead. He had wanted to go behind, but Dorad didn’t trust the man any further than he could throw him (which was not very far, considering the man’s enormous weight) and did not want an enemy riding at his back.
Dorad tried to stay awake and focused on the road, but he had only had one decent night of sleep between his trip to Mallesia and this trip to Werach. Images flooded his mind, images of his mother, sister, and brother as he said his goodbyes to them this morning in the darkness before the dawn. He remembered his brother’s tears—the boy hadn’t stopped crying since the night before, apparently—and how his dear sister Mari had given him such a sweet kiss on the cheek. His lady mother, however, merely coughed into her handkerchief and warned him of the dangers that awaited him. That was what haunted him most of all, his mother’s pale flesh and empty eyes. He wondered if she would live to see him home again.
They rode far and fast that day, ‘til the sun had set in the west and it was too dark to continue. Arrick Laistan and the king’s men set up their tents on the left side of the road, big, spacey things made of a brilliant gold-colored canvas, with banners bearing the king’s sigil flying from the top. In the center of their camp a large cookfire burned and the delicious scent of roast boar crossed over the road to the camp Dorad and his men had made.
The Erilion camp was less impressive, to say the least. Dorad had a big plain grey tent where he would sleep alone, excepting the company of old Sir Byned who had insisted upon being his guard for the night. The other knights and the men-at-arms, however, all shared three tents among them. The smell of boar made their mouths water and their stomachs grumble, but they settled their stomachs with dried meats and fruits. Dorad Erilion would not have it said that his men were extravagant, especially when men and their families went hungry in the villages and farms, starved by the taxes forced on them.
They slept that night in their separate camps, and when the sun rose in the east Arrick Laistan had his men take down their camp and mount up, ready to ride again.
That day went much as the previous one did, along with all the days that followed. They rode and rode and rode, until not a man in Dorad’s party did not ache and grow weary of travel. Not one of them complained, however, unlike the men of the king who could be heard whining from half a mile away.
The third day out from Castle Enival, they passed through a little village called Acaynn, which for generations had been a major meeting place between the northern and southern halves of Elaech. Hundreds of years prior, when Elaech had been warring with Agarta for the first of many times, Acaynn had been where the treaty was signed and much land that was south of the Stony River had become a part of Elaech.
Nowadays, however, it seemed that Acaynn was a meeting place for beggars. There were men, women, and even children sitting on both sides of the wide cobblestone highway, asking for other, more well-to-do folk to have pity on them, to spare a coin or two. The beggars’ pots were all but empty, not even enough coins to buy food for their suppers.
The buildings lining the street were, for the most part, crumbling and broken. Many a house was roofless or otherwise unusable, and almost all the homes were abandoned by their former owners.
Disgusted by the things he saw, Dorad’s eyes were drawn ahead of him when a commotion broke out in the street. A king’s man had dismounted and drawn his longsword, pressing the tip into the throat of a young street urchin. The other men of the king did naught but laugh, none more than Arrick Laistan himself.
Dorad kicked his mount forward and reached for the bastard sword strapped at his side. Just as the sword whistled from its sheath, the king’s man harassing the street urchin pushed the boy to the ground and spit in his face, all the while threatening with his sword.
“ENOUGH!” Dorad’s voice boomed louder than even he knew he could. He slowed his horse when among the group of king’s men. He struck the sword out of the harassing man’s hand with his own blade.
The man cursed, but Arrick Laistan rode up calmly and assessed the situation. “What is the problem here, my lord?” he asked innocently.
And for a moment, Dorad almost believed that the man did not know. If Arrick Laistan had not been the king’s messenger, it was Dorad’s opinion that he could have made a fine actor. “Your man attacked a boy unprovoked. I saw it with my own two eyes, and if he were one of mine he would be dismissed on the spot, stripped of his rank and sent home.”
Arrick Laistan smirked then. “Fortunately for him,” the fat man said, “he is not one of yours. The boy was a pathetic beggar, nothing worth wasting time on, my lord.” He looked to his soldier, the man attacking the boy. “Carry on, if you wish, but we are riding on.” With that he spurred his horse into motion and led all his men out of the village.
Dorad quickly dismounted and sheathed his sword. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief at not having to use it to spill blood that day. Bending over, he gave the street urchin he’d saved a hand and helped him stand. “Thank ye, milord, fer doin’ what ye did fer me,” the boy said, flashing a yellow smile. “I thought that man was goin’ to kill me.” He touched a spot on his neck from which blood slowly trickled, where his attacker had pressed the point of his sword.
It was all Dorad could do not to wrinkle his nose at the stench the boy gave off. He could not have bathed for weeks and weeks, months even. It almost made Dorad’s eyes water, but he remembered his courtesies, even to a poor beggar boy. “It was nothing, really. What has happened here?” he asked, looking again at the run-down homes.
The boy shrugged. “That bloody war tax done this to Acaynn, it did. People could barely pay to live here anymore, so they just packed up their things and left.” The boy looked oddly calm, like he’d come to terms with this event long before. “Me own family done the same, but they din’t think I was worth keepin’ around.”
“What’s your name, boy?” Dorad asked. The little beggar was so alike to his brother Danar, in age as well as in image. Both boys had shaggy ginger curls that fell almost to their shoulders—though this boy’s were a deal less clean—and deep oceans for eyes. The boy in front of him was gaunt-faced and thin from a lack of food, but the content look on his face reminded Dorad so much of Danar, who could be happy with whatever situation he was in.
“I’m Rohn, milord, named fer my father,” the boy answered. Bored, he kicked the dirt with his bare, calloused feet.
Reaching into his coin-purse, Dorad produced two silver marks. He grabbed the boy Rohn’s hand and pressed the fat coins into it with a smile. “That should be enough for you to get yourself fed for a while, at least. I’ll be coming back through here, and I’ll give you more if I find you again,” he promised. He only wished that he could give some to all the beggars in Acaynn, but they were too numerous and his purse too light.
Rohn’s face lit up in a wide smile, showing a few missing teeth. “Thank ye, milord! I won’t waste it, I promise.”
“Go on now, Rohn, find yourself something to eat.” The boy dashed away then, leaving Dorad standing by his mount contentedly.
“That was kind of you, my lord,” came Sir Byned’s voice. “But poor judgment on your part, if I may say so.”
Dorad frowned and mounted his palfrey again, ready to begin the ride once more. “What do you mean by that, Sir Byned? The boy was starved, so I gave him money enough to buy his own dinner tonight.” He gently coerced his mount back into motion, a slow canter.
“All I mean, my lord, is that our own purses have grown too light to be so generous,” Sir Byned replied, matching Dorad’s pace. “I have heard that food is becoming quite expensive in Werach, and we cannot presume that King Allard will provide for us, considering our treatment of his men…” The old knight trailed off.
Dorad shook his head. “We have not mistreated any one of these men, they have earned nothing more than what we’ve given them.” Thinking of Arrick Laistan’s insolent smile, he spat at the ground. “Besides, it is the fault of none other than our good King Allard if we do go hungry. It was he who did this to Acaynn with his war tax. That boy, Rohn, said so and I believe him. Allard needs to end this war of his in Gallanuul or watch as his kingdom crumbles under its own weight.
“I do not intend for Enival to go down with him, either,” Dorad stated. “We did not start this Fool’s War, so why should we suffer for it?”
“We are a part of Elaech, my lord,” Sir Byned replied, “and a large part at that. Gods forbid it, but should the kingdom fail the people of the Stony River should be at the forefront fighting for the honor of King Allard.”
Dorad seethed with white-hot rage. Must you be such a bloody loyalist, Byned? Dorad thought and spat again. Should the kingdom fall, it should be us who mount King Allard’s head on a spike! What he said, however, was this, “You are right, sir, as you usually are. Let us speak no more of this matter, it makes my head ache.”
They rode the rest of that day in silence, along with the next few days afterwards. In fact, Dorad hardly shared a word with old Sir Byned until the high, white marble walls of Werach came into view far in the distance.
“We are almost there, my lord,” voiced rigid Sir Errin, as if Dorad could not see the massive city looming ahead. The famed walls of the city of Werach must have been half again as tall as Enival’s stone walls, and many feet thick. Since the great city had been raised on the open plains of central Elaech almost a millennium prior, many an army had attempted to storm the city and win the nation, and many an army had been shattered on those thick stone walls. Dorad wondered, with most of Elaech’s military force off fighting in Gallanuul, would those walls be able to hold off an enemy host again?
At that point Dorad led his men forward to join with Arrick Laistan and his men. He chose a thick-chested and heavily muscled man-at-arms to hold up the banner of House Erilion as they rode the last few miles to Werach. The boar charged through the air next to King Allard’s golden flute, and a sense of dread filled Dorad as they approached the Elaech’s great capital.