Honor Found (The Spare Heir) (6 page)

“When there is need a fifth shall be born,” she whispered.

“What?” Jorem asked.

“When Grendith came to our land he slew an evil mage, saving our people from a great peril.  As a reward our ruler, He With No Name, cast a great magic, so great that when he was done not even he knew what it would do.  All the Unnamed one would ever say was, ‘When there is need a fifth shall be born’.”

“What need?” Jorem asked.

“He would never say.”

They sat in silence for a while, both contemplating what the other had said.  Finally Jorem shook his head. 
“What would be would be,”
Pentrothe had always told him. 
“Best to make what right we can today.”

“Grendith must have been a great man,” Jorem said.  “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“I am Teneth, searcher of the Folk,” she said with a smile.  “And Grendith was a rogue.  Gallant to be sure, but a rogue all the same.  He and Toth made a perfect pair.”

“You knew my Grandfather?”

The very idea seemed incredible.  She looked no older than he, and surely no more than twenty years.

“I knew him, yes.  Of all who have come to our land he is the only one who chose to leave.”  At Jorem’s questioning look she explained.  “Whenever we come to your land, the searcher seeks out those who would find more happiness with us.  Once they are in our land they are given the choice to stay or return.  Grendith is the only one ever to choose to return here.”

“Is it really that good, your land, I mean?” Jorem asked.

“It is difficult to describe,” Teneth replied thoughtfully.  “There is no sickness, no hunger or want.  Time passes differently for us; a lifetime could be as long as hundreds of your years.  There is a price paid for the gifts our land gives though.  We cannot create life.  No child has ever been born there.”

“So that’s why you take people from here,” Jorem said.  “Otherwise everyone would eventually die off.”

Teneth smiled.  “As I said, no one is forced to stay.  Would you mind if we moved closer to the fire?  This land of yours is cold, and the warmth of the fire would feel very soothing.”

They rose together and walked over to a bench placed near the hearth.  When they sat, she slid up against his side, leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder.  Jorem nearly forgot to breathe.  Her body was almost as warm as the fire.  Her silky soft hair brushed against his neck.  Jorem dared not move for fear that she might move away.

“What was the need?” Teneth asked quietly.

When Jorem didn’t reply, she looked up into his eyes.  With those clear blue eyes so close to his, Jorem thought the room should be vibrating, so loud was the beating of his heart.

“What great deed, what mighty task was there that you alone could conquer?” she whispered.

When once again Jorem did not respond, she sat up and looked at him intently.  “What was it?  Will you not tell me?” she asked more loudly.

With her not quite so close, Jorem’s mind sluggishly ebbed back into motion, her words finally registering and making sense.  What had he done?  Nothing great came to mind.

He could swing a hammer.  He could swing a sword.  He could run up a hill and back down, sometimes without even falling down.  That was about it.  He didn’t fall down as often any more though.

“I,” Jorem blushed, “I’ve learned not to trip over my own feet.  Not much more than that though.”

She reached up and brushed her hand against his cheek.  A tingling started up the back of his neck.  “
Magic
.” Jorem thought, and flinched away from her hand.  He didn’t feel threatened.  Pentrothe had told him that for some reason magic couldn’t be used on him, but he was still wary.

“How do you do that?”  Teneth asked incredulously.

“What?”

“When I try to read you my spell just bounces off.  The harder I try the more forceful the deflection.  Are you a Mage?”

“No,” Jorem snorted.  “A wizard tried teaching me.  He said I should always carry a fire stone because there was no other way I’d ever light a fire.”

“You are a strange one,” Teneth said with a smile.  “I like strange—at least, this kind of strange.”

She snuggled back up to him, still looking him in the eyes.

“If you’d like, we could…,” she purred as she nodded toward the private rooms.

Jorem practically fell off the bench.  In his experience the only reason girls had acted like this with him was when they wanted to get closer to one of his brothers or their parents wanted something from the king.  Teneth didn’t fit either of those situations.  She actually wanted to be with him.

Jorem reached up to run his fingers through her silver hair and looked into her eyes.  His mind was running in circles trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t mess this up.  His vision blurred a bit and her eyes turned a sparkly brown.  Then her hair changed to a mousey brown color and freckles covered her pert little nose.

Jorem blinked his eyes and shook his head.  When he looked again Teneth was back to herself, but she was sitting as far from him as the bench allowed.  She looked at him with something between shock and surprise.

“You’re bonded!” she blurted.

“I’m what?” Jorem asked in confusion.

Now she was incredulous.  “You don’t know?  How could you not know?  Bonding between two people is so rare.  You have to know, don’t you?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Jorem said, even more confused than before.

Teneth looked at Jorem in disbelief.  “You really don’t know?  In all of creation there are a few, very few, that are truly meant for each other.  When they meet they are bound to one another.  Their souls are intertwined in a way that cannot be separated.  The dream spinners have tales of such couples, but to have such a gift and not even know it.  Don’t you even know who she is?”

Jorem thought about the image he had seen.  Brownish hair, brown eyes and freckles.  It could be almost anyone.  Maybe even… well, maybe—.  As Pentrothe was fond of saying,
“The future abounds with possibilities.”

“I don’t feel bound to anyone,” Jorem replied.  “I have a few friends, but no one I’m really close to.”

“There are some among my people who spend their entire lives searching for such a mate.” Teneth’s voice was almost a whisper.  “To know there is one person out there who would make you whole, I would spend all of my efforts to find that person.”

Jorem thought about Teneth’s words.  She had a point.  Learning he was bound to another and they in turn bound to him.  It was tempting, almost compelling to drop everything and go searching for this person.  But then what?  Would he kn
ow them even if he were to find them? Likely he would not.  For that matter would they know him or would they reject him as others had?  No, better to hold to the course he had chosen.  If he was to be bound to another it would happen when it happened.  Forcing such a thing would do no one any good.

“If as you say I am bound to another, would they want someone who is not true to themselves?  Would I be myself if I did not follow the path I have before me?  Wouldn’t changing who I am risk damaging a bond based on who I am?”  Jorem shook his head slowly.  “No, if this bond you speak of is something meant to be then it will happen when it happens.  I wouldn’t want her to –” Jorem
paused
and knew it was definitely a ‘her’
.  “I wouldn’t want her to be any less herself than she is.  When it comes to people, two halves do not make a whole.  It takes two whole people to make a real relationship.”

Teneth was silent for a moment.   “Be the best you possible, for surely no other can.  It is an old saying among my people.  I never thought of it’s implication to those who are bound.  If one of a pair is less than whole then the pairing also is less than it could be.”

Teneth looked curiously at Jorem, smiled and shook her head.  “You are an odd one Jorem of Grendith.  Whatever your future holds I hope the worlds are ready for it.”

From there they talked of many things, each learning about the other and where they came from.  Their conversation was quiet and friendly.  Much to Jorem’s disappointment, however, Teneth stayed at arm’s length, though her smile was still filled with warmth.

The Folk prepared to depart well before sunrise to ensure their safe transit through the portal.  Toth gifted Biorne, the innkeeper, with an amulet that would signal the inn should the Folk choose to return.  The amulet was keyed so it would only work for Biorne.  Considering the dreamy looks and contented smiles on the faces of all, Jorem figured this might turn into a regular event.

Just before they left, a young boy staggered into the inn.  He didn’t know why he’d come; only that he’d had an inexplicable urge to come to the inn.  The boy showed no surprise at meeting the Folk.  He walked right up to Teneth, held out his hand and whispered a single word, “Yes,” then promptly passed out.

Toth knelt down and gathered the boy into his arms.  When he stood back up, Teneth reached out and ran a hand over the boy’s forehead.  With a smile, she said, “It seems those for whom we search now seek us.”  She turned to Jorem.  “Live well, live true.”  Then she walked out the door.

The rest of the Folk followed her out and were gone.  The only sign of their passing was the thunder of hoof beats and even those quickly faded away.

Jorem’s energy fled, leaving him weary to the bone.  He turned to those still in the room.  Some looked as tired as he felt.  Others appeared as fresh as when the Folk had first arrived.  The servers had already begun gathering up dishes and clearing tables.  As he gazed about the room, everyone turned to him as if he had called their attention.

“Thank you,” he said as sincerely as he could.  “Thanks to each and every one of you.  Together I believe we have bridged a chasm between the people of the two lands.  If you will spread to others the good things you learned of the Folk, this may very well be the start of an alliance that could benefit both our lands for generations to come.”

As he headed for his quarters, he quietly thanked each person he passed with simple words, a pat on the shoulder or a handshake.  He was too tired to even blush when some of the ladies curtsied at his passing.  When he got to his room, he simply stripped off his clothes and fell into bed.

Chapter X

Jorem’s breath turned to frost in the chill morning air.  The sun was beginning to show over the mountain peaks, sending shafts of light through the light, wispy clouds.  Two guards stood silent just within the closed gates of the keep.  A handful of other men waited quietly nearby.

As the sun slowly crept over the mountain, more men approached the gate.  By the time the sun cleared the mountain, nearly three-dozen men stood grouped around the gate.  Half a mark later, their numbers had doubled.  The men ranged from beggars dressed in rags, to warriors in battle armor, to barbarians wearing fur cloaks and horned helms.

At last the gates swung open.  A balding clerk, followed by two burly guards, came out.  They looked over the gathering of men as if seeking something and not finding it.  The clerk whispered something to one of the guards while gesturing to either side of the gate.  When the clerk stopped talking, the guard stepped forward.

“Listen up!” the guard bellowed.  “Those that’s here to sign up for the guard, line up over there,” pointing to one side of the gate.  Then he gestured to the other side of the gate.  “Monster hunters over there.”

The last statement was met with a variety of humphs and guffaws.  Needless to say, most of the men moved to the area indicated for the guard.  Jorem stood for a moment somewhat conflicted.  Neth said he was to join up to search for the creature, but that group looked themselves to be made up of bits and pieces of monsters.

“Oh, well,” Jorem muttered to himself as he moved to join the “monster hunters”.  At least it’ll be interesting.  Of nearly one hundred men, only ten chose the monster hunter line.  Of these ten, only Jorem wore nothing made of fur.  None of them spoke.  They just stood and glared at one another.

“Right, then,” the guard bellowed.  “Ye all be joining the King’s army.  Ever see the King’s army?  Well, you’re not it.  But before we leave for the capital, you will be.  You’ll dress in standard-issue uniforms.”  This he said pointedly to Jorem’s group.  “And you’ll be training like soldiers, sunrise to sunset and then some.  You’ll follow orders and work like dogs.  Any of you don’t think you can handle it, leave now.”

There was some murmuring from the main group, and some major grumbling from Jorem’s group.  When things settled back down, two of the monster hunters and a handful of regulars chose to leave.  “Not gonna wear no prissy uniform,” one had said.  “Nobody tells me how to hunt down an’ kill a critter,” said the other.  “No way, no how!”

After they had gone, two more guards brought out a small wooden table and set it next to the gate.  A chair was placed behind the table and the clerk sat down.  He laid out a tablet, ink and pens.  When he was satisfied all was in order, he nodded to the guardsman.

“Line up, and sign up,” the guard yelled.  “You first,” he said, waving at the smaller group of men.  “Then the rest of you, one at a time.  When you’re through here, go where you’re told.  You’ll get yer uniform, yer kit and a tent assignment for sleepin’.  Get moving!  We ain’t got all day.”

They began moving through the gate after a few questions from the clerk.  When Jorem got to the table, the clerk looked at him and squinted.

“The guard?” the clerk asked.

Jorem looked at the men line up behind him, then at the misfits straggling along in front of him. 
‘Last chance to be normal’
he though to himself. 
‘What the heck, when have I ever been normal?’

“Hunter,” Jorem said evenly.

“Name?” the clerk asked as he made a note in the tablet.

“Rim.”

Another note in the tablet.

“Experience?”

One of the guards snorted and the clerk glared at him.  Without saying anything, Jorem took Neth’s neatly folded letter from his pocket and laid it on the table.  He wasn’t sure what to expect.  The letter didn’t say much.  He’d read it earlier.  It was short and to the point:

Rim has trained with me for some time.  He is competent at combat, tracking and scouting.  Consider yourself fortunate to have him.

             
                                                                      Lady Nethira

The clerk picked up the letter and read it.  His eyes grew wide.  One of the guards standing at the table read the letter over the clerk’s shoulder.  The guard stood a little straighter, looking at Jorem in surprise.  He nearly tripped over himself as he scrambled from behind the table.

“If you’ll follow me, sir,” the guard said nervously, “I’ll show you where to collect your things.”

In short order, Jorem had the promised standard-issue uniform, a set of lightly scuffed leather armor, and a medium length utilitarian sword.  The uniform was a pair of drab grey pants and a darker grey tunic.  The armor consisted of a breastplate and backplate made of stiff leather and held together with shoulder and side straps.  There was also a set of guards to strap around the forearms.

The sword, probably a cast off, was neither well-made nor well-balanced.  The tip was too heavy and the grip was loose.  It did come with a belt, but the scabbard was an open affair, which left most of the blade exposed.  Not the best choice if you were going to spend time in a crowd.

Jorem was directed to the far corner of a field filled with tents.  The other hunters had preceded him and had already paired up as tent mates.  Each tent was sized for two men and their equipment, just enough room for a bedroll, a travel bag and maybe a small chest each.  There were four tents for the eight hunters.  Either someone knew how many hunters there would be or they hadn’t expected many to show up.

The only hunter not paired up was a good head shorter than Jorem.  He was nearly as wide as he was tall.  His head was as bald as an egg, but he more than made up for it with the enormous beard covering his face.  When he saw Jorem, a big smile revealed multiple gaps where teeth should have been.  What teeth he did have glistened pearly white.  The man looked like a tree stump rooted in place.

“Conrad’s me name, killin’s me game,” the short hunter said in a bright but gruff voice.  “Looks like we’ll be bunkin’ fer a time.  Best to warn ye now, I snore up a storm an’ drink like a fish.”

Jorem smiled.  In spite of Conrad’s rough appearance and gruff manners, he liked the stout hunter immediately.  He reached out and grasped Conrad’s hand in a firm shake.  “I’m Rim.  I appreciate the warning.  I’ll pick up some cotton for my ears so I can sleep.  As long as you fight as well as you drink, I’d say we’re well set.”

If anything, Conrad’s grin widened.  Before they could get better acquainted, however, a young lad came trotting over to them.  He was dressed in the Duke’s colors of sky blue on midnight blue and acted rather snobbish in spite of the blackened eye he wore.

“You men are to change into your uniforms and report to the practice grounds.”  His youthful voice betrayed the command in his tone.

Jorem eyed the boy, taking note of the blackened eye and bruised face.  “I’m glad to see you’re up and about.  I trust you learned something from our encounter?”

The boy flinched when Jorem’s words sank in.  Jorem gave him credit though, for he neither fled nor blustered.  He looked Jorem straight in the eyes, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.

“It was a fool thing to do,” the boy said.  “Perth said I was lucky you didn’t kill me dead.  Truth is, I never seen anybody move as fast as you did.”

Jorem chuckled at the boy’s comments.  What was his name?  Talbot?  That was it.

“Talbot, right?” Jorem asked.

At the boy’s nod, Jorem went on.

“In the dark everything looks fast.  As often as I’ve had my ears pinned back the past few months, I can assure you there are those much faster than I.  Besides, if I’d killed you, the Duke would’ve had my head on a platter.”

“He might’ve at that,” Talbot said with a grin.  “Anyways, everyone is to change into their uniforms and report to the training area.  That would be the south end of the encampment.  Leave your weapons here, they have training blades there.”

Talbot turned and headed toward another group of men.  Jorem quickly changed into his uniform. It was a bit baggy around his middle and rather snug at his shoulders, but it wasn’t a bad fit.  He felt a little odd without his mail shirt, and the absence of his many hidden blades left him feeling very vulnerable.  Before they headed to the training area, however, he was able to secret away the knife he’d received from the Folk beneath his leather back plate, with the handle just behind his neck.  That was one blade he’d vowed to keep with him at all times.

When they arrived at the training area they were each given a rough-hewn wooden sword and a hardened leather skullcap.  A guardsman went around pairing them up by size.  Most of the men appeared bored.  A few, mostly the younger men, looked nervous and some a bit fearful.

Jorem had been paired with a boy not much older than himself.  They were about the same height and build.  Jorem stood relaxed, yet ready, as Neth had taught him.  His partner, on the other hand, looked like a cat caught in the dog pen.  He held his sword in a death grip and stood so rigidly that if he tipped over he’d likely break.

“Listen up!” a guard shouted.  “When I signal, I want you to attack the man you’ve been paired with.  And I mean with yer sword, not yer fists.”

When the guard signaled to start, Jorem’s partner came at him in a frenzy.  The boy held his sword like a club, swinging it wildly about.  Jorem blocked the few strokes that managed to come

close, and dodged the rest.  It was only a matter of minutes before the boy was breathing hard and sagging from his exertion.

“What’s your name?” Jorem asked while the boy tried to catch his breath.

“Ferd,” the boy said.  “It’s not my whole name, but that’s what everybody calls me.”

“Ferd, have you ever used a sword before?”

Ferd’s face colored a bit.  “No, cain’t say as I have.  Not much call for swords on a farm.”

“What say we slow things down a mite and see if we can learn you up some?”

Ferd looked at Jorem dubiously.  “You’d teach me?”

Jorem smiled at the thought of him teaching.  “My names Rim.  If we’re to be in the same unit, I might need you to guard my back.  I’d feel better if you knew how.”

For the next quarter mark or so, Jorem help Ferd with basic blocks and strokes.  Ferd was agile and quick to learn.  They went through each move slowly over and over until he got it right.  It was kind of fun to be the one teaching for a change.

“What’s going on here?” a guardsman yelled as he walked up to Jorem and Ferd.

Jorem turned to the guard.  “I figured it would be better to teach him rather than beat him to death.”

“Teachin’ are ye?” the guard smirked.  “Hey Rodge, we got one thinks he’s a teacher.”

A hulking brute came swaggering over to them.  He was a good head taller than Jorem and looked to be part ox.  The man’s neck was nearly as big around as Jorem’s waist and his arms looked like tree trunks.  In one massive paw the brute carried a wooden sword half again as long as Jorem’s.

“Show the little teacher what we’re gonna learn these clod brains, Rodge.”

Jorem knew there was no point trading blows with this giant of a man.  No doubt the man’s larger sword would snap Jorem’s at the first direct strike. 
“Big men die just as well as the smaller ones,”
Neth had told him
.  “Sometimes you just have to whittle them down first.”
  Slash and dash, she’d called it.

A crowd had started gathering around them at the guard’s words.  Ferd had backed into the crowd, leaving Jorem and the guard Rodge alone in a circle of onlookers.  “
Dodge, deflect and damage,
” Jorem thought to himself.  “
And at all cost, avoid that sword
”.  Wood or not, the leather armor he was wearing would do little good against a hard blow.  The guard wore similar armor to Jorem’s, so there were ample weaknesses to exploit. 

The guard’s sword came down in a backhanded swing toward Jorem’s head.  Jorem ducked and rolled to his right, angling his sword above him.  The swords clacked as they deflected off each other.  As Jorem came around, he swung his sword with as much force as he could muster at the back of the guard’s left knee.

The guard grunted when the blow landed.  Jorem rolled quickly to his left, behind the guard.  When he came up, he saw the guard had brought his sword arm back, either in reaction to the pain or in preparation for another crushing blow.  Without hesitation, Jorem swung an overhand blow, striking the back of the guard’s sword hand with the flat of his sword.

The guard’s sword flew from his hand.  Before the sword hit the ground, Jorem had spun around and struck the guard on the back of his right knee.  As the guard fell backward, Jorem sprang to his feet.  One step forward and he placed the blunt point of his sword firmly under the guard’s chin.

“Yield!” Jorem said firmly.  It was not a question.

It had all happened so fast.  As he waited for the guard to respond, the entire sequence of moves flashed through his mind.  For each of his moves, he visualized Neth’s countermoves.  He had no doubt that had he tried them on her, he would have been the one on the ground.  Without her even being there, Jorem could hear her criticizing his moves and his speed.