Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (22 page)

“And when he had made these promises unto the him, the Creator fashioned him a robe of lambskin and placed it upon his body, and a mantle of goat skins for his shoulders, as a sign of his approval and authority, and of his stewardship of his people, and Galen accepted them, acknowledging his Creator’s power and consent, drawing the skins firm around his shoulders and the leathers secure around his body, and he reaffirmed his covenants with his Creator…” –The Lay of Galen Thunderspeak, 4:42

The hall was a flurry of activity the rest of the afternoon, as the elder council asked that the travelers be equipped with provisions and supplies as quickly as possible. Wealthier members donated coins, and younger members were sent out to make purchases. Throughout the rest of the day, meats and dried fruits and olives and wine and dried biscuits accumulated on a table in the hall, with another table piled higher and higher with candles, rope, blankets, tinder, backpacks, and all necessary supplies for a long journey in the wilderness. Yet another table carried an assortment of swords, daggers and armors, gathered for those of the group that had not their own or had not the time to retrieve their own.

In the midst of the preparations, Aeden and Priam managed to escape for a few hours, ostensibly to bid farewell to Aeden’s mother, but on the way managed to end up in the city’s market district. They wandered aimlessly a bit, passing through various shops, looking at the fine clothes, gawking at the armors and weapons, sampling the sweetbreads, noticing the passing noblemen’s daughters, all in all having one last good time before their adventure, which they were both more nervous about than they would admit to each other.

They passed in front of another store and Aeden gestured to Priam, “Hey look, its Betha’s father’s store. Let’s go in.” As they entered, they saw Betha gathering items into a backpack and her father fluttering around the store picking out more goods for her to include. They both looked up, Betha with an expression of discomfort, but her father with a look of joy.

“My boy, Aeden, come in, please!” He stopped what he was doing and approached them, grasping their hands and shaking them vigorously. “My Betha has told me all. That the king himself requested the society send a team to eliminate the warlord is … well! And that they would choose you three to be in the group, what an honor!” He beamed at his daughter.

The boys looked at her with questions on their faces. “Yes, he knows. My father is a … lapsed … society member.” She reassured them.

Aeden asked the man, “You were in the royal guard. The elder council said they wanted to send those with swordsmanship skills. Why did you not attend the meeting?”

The man sharpened his tone, “I haven’t been to a society council or even stepped foot in the healer’s hall for years, and I don’t intend to start now.” He softened his look and continued, “But I am honored that they chose you. Especially you, my dear girl.”

She put her hands on her hips, practically barking at him, “But father, this is a dangerous mission. You’re worried when I so much as go outside the city to the grove. Why so casual with my safety now? It should be your place to go anyway.”

The man shrugged, “I’m too old—I’ve taught you all that I know and you’ve learned it well. I have every confidence in you, Betha. You will triumph and return to me. And besides, these are dark times and dark times call for great heroes—if you are one of those heroes, who am I to stand in the way?” His eyes misted slightly, but he soon snapped back to the needs of the moment, “Aeden, I’m glad you’ve come. Dark times call for great heroes, I say, and a hero needs to look like one. Here, take the armor and sword.” The old man latched onto Aeden’s arm and dragged him to the side of the store where the last work of the master armorsmith of Ramath still rested.

Aeden’s eyes widened and he protested, “But, sir, you cannot just give them to me. They are far too valuable!”

The man waved his hand as if to parry the comment. “I can, and I will. It is my choice. For me to have any small part in this mission is a great honor, please do not deprive me of it.”

Betha slid up to the old man, “But father, this gentleman is a noble. Surely he has an entire armory of finer pieces than this, and surely more than enough money to pay for it.” She glared ever so slightly at the boy.

The man shooed her away and retorted, “My daughter, this man has lost his family, his home and all his possessions. He may be the son of a nobleman, but here in this city he has nothing. I have made my decision. Here, boy, put it on.”

Aeden hesitated, but slowly complied. He removed his outer clothing, asking Betha to turn around first, and strapped the work of art to his body. Priam looked on in utter jealousy, a shadow of revulsion passed over his face, which he quickly hid and replaced with a forced smile. Aeden had no trouble smiling at his newest and finest possession, something which, even as the son of the sixth duke of Elbeth, he had never had any thought of holding, much less owning. He looked at himself in the mirror again, and the shopkeeper once more helped him to strap on the sheath with the fine sword held within, crossing it on his back with the sword Aeden carried from the lord of Elbeth.

When he completed his dressing and his gawking, he kneeled before the man on one knee, and bowed his head. “Good sir, I am forever in your debt. If I return, I shall find a way to repay your kindness.” And he took the shopkeeper’s hand in his own.

Betha’s face softened a bit at the sight, but Priam’s lips only pressed tighter together. Aeden arose and returned to his friend’s side. The shopkeeper came to them and said, “Aeden, you never introduced me to your friend.”

Aeden’s eyes grew wide again and he quickly made the introduction, taking care to emphasize his friend’s title (to which Betha rolled her eyes), and narrow escape from Elbeth with the master healer. The shopkeeper took Priam to another corner of the store and showed him other swords and pieces of armor.

“They are not quite as nice as the other, boy, but they are still worthy of a quest such as this. I see you have a sword already, but please, choose from my stock as you wish.” Priam graciously thanked the man, and, after perusing the various armors, settled on a piece of banded steel, interlaced with leather straps.

After he was properly arrayed for the mission, they said their goodbyes, and the shopkeeper rested his hands on both their heads, raising his head and his voice, and called out in prayer: “Great Creator of heaven and earth! Take now these thy sons, and thy daughter. Be thou their guide, their protection, their hope and their rest. Strengthen their bodies, quicken their minds, and shield them from the fierce flames of this accursed warlord. Of one mind and heart!”

“Of one mind and heart!” the others murmured.

Once outside, they started off to bid Aeden’s mother farewell. Walking in silence for awhile, Priam finally spoke his mind, “I can’t believe he gave you that armor and that sword.” 

“Yeah.” Aeden replied.

“I mean, you told me that the master armorsmith of Ramath made that, like it was his final work or something. And he gave it to you!”

“Yeah.”

“That must be worth all the swords and armor in your family’s armory put together!”

“Yeah.”

Priam brooded a bit, “Well, at least I got
something
.”

They continued on in silence until they came to the Rossam’s temporary residence. Lady Rossam, of course, rested on her knees, weeding the garden and harvesting ripe vegetables. She stood as they approached, smiling as she saw Priam, but darkening her look as she noticed their armor. “What news, my son? Why are you arrayed as if for war?”

He came to her and hugged her. She embraced him back, a look of confusion on her face. He spoke. “Dear mother. The king himself has asked that I join a group to go and liberate our land from the stone-faced army.”

Her eyes grew wide. “The King! He is here? Why is he sending you? A boy? My boy?”

“He is not here, but has asked the master healer to lead a small group to the north and neutralize the warlord responsible for the massacre.”

“Why the master healer? Why not the captain of the royal guard?” she asked defiantly.

“The royal guard is preoccupied with protecting the capital. The king is raising an army to liberate Elbeth, but it will take many months. So he asked the master healer to lead the mission. The king respects the master healer greatly and he has travelled widely in the lands to the north.”

She shook her head, asking, “But why you? Why Priam? Are there not any warriors here in Ramath? This makes no sense at all!”

Aeden touched her elbow, “Mother, no. There hardly are. Priam and I are among a small group of properly trained swordsmen. And we will be accompanied by at least ten other accomplished warriors. We are needed, mother.”

Her face wet, she held him close again. In their embrace, she shook, grabbed the back of his head, and started sobbing. “Don’t leave me. I can’t lose my last one! I can’t lose one more! I can’t lose one more! I can’t lose my last one!” Aeden held her close, her head on his shoulder, his eyes clear, stroking her hair.

After several minutes, her cries slowed to whimpers, and he spoke again, “Mother, my king needs me. I will return. I promise I will return. And we will have vengeance on the warlord. I will return. Believe me, mother, I will return.”

Shaking still, she held his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Your father has taught you well, and he would be so proud of the man you are becoming. But do not go for vengeance, my son. Go for our king and our creator.” She held him tightly again, then pulled at his arm. “Come. Follow me.”

She led him to the small house and entered. She found her travel bag and removed her personal copy of the Chronicles that she had copied and illustrated by hand many years before. “Take this. You must complete yours. I’m sure you will have some time on the journey, when others rest but your mind wanders. Finish your Chronicles.” He nodded, and accepted the gift, though almost it was too great to accept. The lady dithered around the house for several minutes longer, looking for more items to give to her departing son, who patiently stood and accepted all she offered. Exhausted of anything more to give, she looked at him and the tears came once more. They said their goodbyes, and though she blessed him and smiled for him at the last, their parting was bitter for them both.

The party left after sunset—by night, so as to avoid any spies of the warlord. They crossed the great fields surrounding the city of Ramath, staying off the main roads, and aimed for the forest that clothed the lower foothills of the mountains. For many hours that night, the group walked, crossing streams, climbing rising hills, until they finally came to rest in a thicker part of the forest at the crest of a low mountain.

“Let us make camp and sleep here for a few hours.” Announced the master healer. In the silence, Aeden could hear the calling of owls and the chorus of crickets on the gentle breeze. It was a warm night for fall, and the company saw no need for a fire and simply laid out their bedding under the trees and stars, most retiring to bed immediately. Several lingered awake for a time, telling stories from legend and Chronicle, speculating on the identity of the warlord, debating the meaning of life and a rohva’s place in it—talk easily inspired by a moonless night under the wheeling stars overhead.

Rupert wondered aloud, “I wonder what the first town is that we will come to?”

Diana, nearing sleep, mumbled softly, “The town of Lofgren, I believe. The lord of the town is friend to the master healer…” and she drifted off.

After the talking and joking had faded somewhat, Frederick murmured, “A song? Someone?”

Betha replied, “Please, Frederick, go ahead.”

“Oh no. I’m not a singer, and you will exile me from the mission if I attempt it. Surely one of our noblebrats…”

Silence. Then Aeden spoke: “Very well, ... my father sang this to me often as a child before we retired for bed.” He cleared his throat, and very softly, so as not to disturb the sleepers, sang:

Where have you gone, my dear one?

Why have you left, left me alone?

Come to my side, my lovely dear one,

Return to me, my heart and home.

Where have you gone, my dear one?

Where did you go, when night was nigh?

Your place is here, my lovely dear one,

Come back to me, and near me lie.

Where have you gone, my dear one?

Show me your place, my little child.

We miss you so, my lovely dear one,

Unveil your face, forever mild.

He trailed off, fading to silence. The crickets continued their song around them, the night punctuated now and again by light snores from the master healer.

“Not bad.” Frederick said in a near whisper before he, too, fell to sleep. Betha alone remained awake, lying on her bedding facing the forest, her heart pounding as the song still echoed in her ears. After several minutes of conflicted thought, she rolled over and glanced at the sleeping Aeden. “Royal brat,” she whispered to herself as she curled up to sleep.