Authors: Jason McWhirter
“Then what brought him back?”
“The Shan Cemar.”
“What! That is not possible. The Shan Cemar is just a legend.” The King stood up in surprise.
“No, my Lord, the Shan Cemar is real, and it is now in the hands of the Dark One.”
“What is the Shan Cemar?” asked Jonas.
Alerion turned toward Jonas and noticed him for the first time. “Jonas, it is good to see you. I’m glad that you are well, and it seems the gods have favored you,” Alerion said, looking Jonas up and down with new respect. “The Shan Cemar is an ancient elven book that holds their most powerful words of magic. The book is so old that even the elves did not know its location; it was hidden thousands of lifetimes ago to keep the power safe. Wizards have been searching for the manuscript for a long time. It has somehow been found, giving Malbeck more power than you can possibly imagine. With that book he has access to all the ancient elven words that can unlock the true power of the Ru’Ach.”
“How do we stop him?” asked Jonas, a grim look on his face.
“I don’t know.”
An oppressive silence filled the tent as those inside contemplated this new development.
Finally the king spoke up. “One step at a time. We have a threat here to face first, and we have my son to find. Then we can worry about Malbeck.”
“My Lord. I’m afraid that this army is just a ruse to keep you busy while Malbeck destroys Tarsis. As we speak, Tarsis smolders and boargs roam the lands searching and destroying any scouts that King Kromm has sent out.”
As the king listened to this new revelation, the blood seemed to drain from his weary face. He collapsed heavily on the edge of his bed.
“You mean Tarsis is destroyed?” asked Dagrinal.
“Yes. King Kromm escaped at the last moment with a small force of followers. He is being pursued by Malbeck’s minions as we speak.”
“How do you know this?” asked Graggis.
“Graggis, your skills are with the axe, mine are with magic. The means by which I found this information is irrelevant. The fact is, Tarsis is no more, and King Kromm fights for his life.”
“And that very same army that took Tarsis is sure to be moving south toward us,” added Taleen.
“We will be flanked on two sides.” Jonas said what everyone was thinking.
The king rubbed his long beard in thought. “Kiln, what would you suggest?” asked the king, his tired eyes almost pleading.
All eyes turned towards the famous war commander.
Kiln stepped close to the table and gazed down at the big map positioned there. “It would take Malbeck’s army over ninety days to march from Tarsis to Finarth and that is in the most advantageous conditions. Winter will be approaching by then and it is hard to say how that will affect his plans. Will he force march his army during the winter? Will he hold up and let the snows pass? We will have to keep careful watch on his forces. We should send out our best scouts now. I would suggest that you take your army back to Finarth to prepare for a siege and a long, hard winter. Finarth has never been taken, and that is where we should make our stand.”
“If Malbeck brings the Shan Cemar to our doorstep, then I do not think we can stop him,” Alerion said somberly.
Kiln narrowed his eyes in thought. “There must be something that can fight the power of the Shan Cemar. No army is undefeatable.”
“There is one thing,” added the wizard.
“What, Alerion? What can defeat Malbeck?” asked the frustrated king.
“I was told by my source that the only thing that may defeat Malbeck is an IshMian whose veins pulse with the blood of Finarth.”
“That sounds like a riddle,” interjected Prince Nelstrom. But he did not miss the looks that Kiln, Taleen, and Graggis, sent Jonas’s way.
The king did not miss the looks either. “What? Why are you all staring at Jonas?” asked the king.
“King Gavinsteal, Jonas is an IshMian,” said Taleen.
“Really? Jonas, you are definitely full of surprises. But what does the riddle mean, the blood of Finarth?” asked the king.
“My Lord, it sounds like that phrase would have some connection to the royal family of Finarth, which would exclude Jonas,” reasoned Alerion.
“King Gavinsteal, are there any members of the royal family that are IshMian?” asked Jonas.
“The only members of the royal family are standing in this tent, and none of them have the powers of an IshMian,” the king answered.
“There must be something we are missing,” Kiln pondered thoughtfully.
“Alerion, What do you make of the riddle? Is it possible that Jonas could be the IshMian that your source spoke of?” asked the king.
“I do not know, my Lord. I have relayed all I was told. If Jonas is an IshMian, then he could be that man. I know of no other IshMian with powers that might enable him to defeat the Dark One. On the other hand,
the blood of Finarth
part of the riddle does not seem to apply to him at all. Even if he is this man, I do not know how he might defeat the powers of the Shan Cemar. I will think on this riddle further and see if I can find anything related to
the blood of Finarth
.”
“IshMians are extremely rare and the gods seem to have a plan for Jonas. It is very possible that Jonas may be who your source was speaking of,” Taleen said.
“Jonas, I know I cannot give you orders as a cavalier, but will you stay and fight with us?” asked the king.
Jonas did not hesitate in his response. “My Lord, I have not yet received a calling. If my calling is to stay and fight then my steel will be yours, but if I am called, then I cannot argue with Shyann’s will. She knows best where I may be of use.”
“Very well. Dagrinal, send out scouts and spread the word that we leave at first light back to Finarth. Kiln, Jonas, and Taleen, will you three stay awhile so we can talk? I need your council on this dark day.”
“It would be my pleasure,” replied Kiln.
“Sir, there are men to be healed and I would like to find my friend, Fil. Do you know where I can locate him?”
“You are correct, Jonas. I’m embarrassed I did not think of my wounded first. Both of your healing powers would be appreciated. We can talk at another time. I think Fil is with Tanus’s modrig. They should be camped to the southeast.”
Jonas bowed his head slightly. “Thank you my Lord, until tomorrow.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, King Gavinsteal,” replied Taleen with a slight nod.
“The pleasure was mine, cavalier. Thank you for your help,” the king nodded in reply.
She turned and followed Jonas out of the tent. They strode through the tent flaps to their horses. Jonas climbed onto Tulari who was standing patiently outside. Several of the nearby guards were staring at them and their magnificent horses with open admiration. Taleen mounted her steed as well and they slowly trotted southeast.
As they made their way through the various camp sites, many men stood up and acknowledged their presence with a smile or a simple greeting. It was obvious to them both that their presence was uplifting to the entire army. It was a strange feeling for Jonas and he wondered how long it would take him to get used to it. He openly expressed his feelings to Taleen.
“It feels strange to have everyone look at me with awe and respect. I am so accustomed to the opposite reaction.”
“It will happen wherever you go, Jonas. I am still not accustomed to it, and I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“I guess that is a good thing. Who were you before you became a cavalier?” Jonas asked as he snuck a peak at her beautiful profile.
“I was the daughter of a blacksmith. He raised me like I was his son, taught me how to wield a sword and ride a horse. He was a stern strong man whom I loved very much.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed when our village was raided by goblins. After that I joined King Allryan’s army and fought for him for eight years.” Taleen paused as her memories came flooding back.
“I am sorry, Taleen. I didn’t mean to bring back unpleasant memories.”
Taleen looked at him and smiled. “Do not fret, Jonas. It’s just been a long time since I thought about my father. Anyway, I rose quickly through the ranks as a soldier and I decided to try my skills as a cavalier. It took me five years but I was granted the rank of cavalier by Helikon six years ago.”
“What about your mother? Do you have any siblings?”
“My mother died during child birth, along with my sister.”
“I see. I’m sorry.
It seems we both have had difficult pasts,” Jonas commented.
“I guess so. But my father loved me and he cared for me the best he could. I was better off than many,” Taleen reasoned.
Jonas thought about her words knowing full well the truth of them. Even he, who led a very difficult life, realized at a young age that no matter how hard your life seemed, it could always be worse. He, too, had it tough, but he did have a loving mother who did her best to care for him. Jonas changed the subject. “Did many women serve with you? We don’t have many female warriors here.”
“There are not many, but I would not say it is rare. Women are allowed to fight but few can pass the training.”
Jonas looked at her again and marveled at her beauty. She noticed him staring and didn’t look away.
“Have you ever been married?” Jonas asked softly.
“No. The life of a cavalier is not fit for marriage,” she replied with no hint of emotion.
“Is it forbidden?” Jonas asked.
“No, it is not forbidden,” Taleen replied as she looked at Jonas.
Jonas looked away and pretended to scan the camp fires for Fil. A lone rider galloped toward them and pulled up short. He was wearing plate mail and a helm similar to Jonas’s, except the horns were those of a boarg.
Jonas shivered involuntarily as memories came flooding back to him. It was hard for him to picture a boarg, or even hear the name, without thinking of his mother’s brutal death. The warrior was bloody and he held his shoulder as if he were injured. He lifted his visor and smiled warmly at the two cavaliers.
“Greetings, cavaliers, word of your presence has quickly spread through the ranks. My name is Tanus and I am a captain in the king’s army.”
“Hello, captain, my name is Jonas Kanrene, cavalier to Shyann.”
“And I am Taleen Gothar, cavalier to Bandris.” Taleen figured it was easier to use the western name for her god so as not to cause confusion.
“I am glad you are both here. Is it true that you battled a Banthra and several priests of the Forsworn?” Tanus asked, crossing his chest at the mention of the dark gods.
“It is true. Jonas killed the Banthra and helped me slay the priests,” stated Taleen. “Sir, are you hurt? Do you need healing?”
“I took a goblin spear to the shoulder. I had it patched up to stop most of the bleeding. I’d rather have you save your energy for my men if you are up to it. I have many men more severely wounded.”
“It would be our pleasure. After we heal who we can, would you be able to lead us to a friend of mine? I believe he is in your modrig?” asked Jonas.
“What is his name?”
“Fil Tanrey, he is a knight apprentice.”
“Ah yes. Fil saved my life today. He was hurt badly but nothing life threatening, thank the High One for that. He is brave and strong. I am glad he is on our side.”
Jonas felt a twinge of worry and pride as he thought about his friend. “Please, take me too him. I must see him and heal him immediately,” Jonas said eagerly.
“Very well. Follow me.”
Tanus led the two cavaliers through the camp; the men’s faces, reflected in the many campfires, showed a mixture of emotions. Some looked tired and haggard, others seemed happy to be alive, or solemn at the loss of their brethren. But all stood and greeted the cavaliers with a nod or a smile as they rode by.
When they neared a large cream colored tent, Tanus dismounted and tethered his horse. Taleen and Jonas both followed his lead, though they had no need to tether their own mounts.
Tanus stared openly at Tulari as the giant horse stood passively, and Jonas couldn’t help but feel immense pride for his new steed.
“That is the most magnificent animal I have ever seen,” Tanus said as he admired the huge animal.
“Thank you, Tanus. His name is Tulari, and you’re right, he is magnificent in many ways.”
Tanus broke his gaze from the animal and led the two warriors into the tent that housed the wounded. The first things Jonas noticed were the sounds and odors. It had been many years since he had seen the results of a battle, and even then he had only seen the dead. But here he was looking at the wounded. It did’nt take him long to realize that witnessing the survivors of a battle may be worse than seeing the dead. The dead didn’t moan or cry out in pain. The sounds of the wounded and dying were something that Jonas would not forget. But it was the smell that would stick with him. The interior odor was a mix of sweat, blood, infection, and vomit that assaulted Jonas’s nose. The tent was filled with makeshift cots lined with the many wounded. Surgeons and their apprentices moved quickly among the men, cleaning their bandages, and stitching their wounds. There were men unconscious, men moaning in pain, and even some men screaming as surgeons cut, sewed, or sawed. It was a gruesome scene that Jonas would not forget.