WORRLGENHALL (91 page)

 
     “Aderac!” he called out again, as his heart sank into the pit of his stomach, “Aderac!”

 
     Belon’s eyes canvassed the sides of the large rocks and the pebbles around the base, then noticed drops of blood and quickly followed the blood trail, which ended where the green grass began again.

 
     Noticing the trampled grass where several had rode away, his horse taken as well as his sword, knife and axe. He knew he had to act quickly and began to run back in the direction of WorrlgenHall to get his men.

 
     “This cannot be!” his distressed words as he ran. The sweat from his brows mixing with the blood from his head as it trickled down his face and into his dry parched mouth; he could taste the salty blood mixer.

 
     His strong will and worry for Aderac forcing his body to push hard, although he felt dizzy, he refused to slow his pace or stop to rest.

 
     Finally, the mouth of the forest in his sight, he knew he was much closer and stopped briefly, but while resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath, he saw men on horses riding hard towards him.

 
     Fearing they were part of those who took Aderac. No weapons on him, he wiped the sweat from his brows with his forearm, stiffened his resolve and prepared to fight with his fists to his death; but when they got closer, his arms fell to his side when he noticed the men were guilds.

 
     “Belon we have been searching for you and King Aderac,” one of the guilds revealed when they reached him. Laad had them ride out to find them when Loth noticed they had not returned from their morning ride.

 
     “A horse,” Belon commanded, still panting to catch his breath “One of you give me your horse.”

 
     Right away, one of the guilds jumped off his and onto the back of another’s horse so Belon could ride it, and with one leap, Belon was on it and racing away.

 
     Once back at WorrlgenHall, as he approached the western gate, Belon rode full speed straight at it.

 
     “It is Belon, open the gate!” he shouted, “Open the gate now!”

 
     As the gates slowly opened, impatiently Belon rode through ducking his head to keep the steel from hitting it, then all eyes him, he shouted as he turned around the courtyard.

 
     “They took him!” he cried out anguished. Repeating himself just as Aderac did when upset or excited, “They took him! They took him!”

 
     “Who?” Loth and Laad asked first, as they ran down the walled stairs to him, “Who took him?”

 
     “Men that look like those Segorans,” Belon’s distressing answer, as he now jumped off and walked back and forth shaking his head as if trying to wake from a bad dream, “They meant to rob him so we fled to the Rocks of Worrlgen. I killed one and another jumped from above and struck me. When I woke all were gone, even the one I killed.”

 
     When Baric heard what happened, he rushed to Belon.

 
     “Gather the highest of guilds to help Belon and his men,” Baric gave his order to Laad, “And turn this land inside out looking for him.”

 
     Well aware that Baric had other concerns; Laad pulled him aside.

 
     “Worry not with this king,” Laad said wisely, “Celgon will be at our door soon and you have a visiting king here as well. If you grant it, let Belon take charge. We all know he will leave not as much as a leaf unturned to find King Aderac.”

 
     Baric nodded his consent, but voiced a concern.

 
     “We also all know.” Baric dreaded, as he shook his head, “If they harm my cousin my wrath, yet I shudder to let it come into my head the wrath from Belon if they harm Aderac.

 
     Laad nodded, he knew, as did all of them. Find King Aderac and pray that no harm came to him, or the soil of the earth would be soaked with the blood of the Segorans.

 
     With astounding quickness, Belon rearmed himself, gathered his chosen and the guilds Laad tasked to have help find Aderac, but he pulled one of his own aside.

 
     Hastily Belon wrote, and so agitated neither hand would steady his words were almost unreadable, but before he sealed it; he added one more significant detail that no words need convey.

 
     He put his blood seal on it, a secret code proving it came from high and the direness of it, and only those most high in command were privy to what it meant.

 
     “Ride hard Ivodgald,” Belon tasked his chosen, his hand bleeding from staining the parchment with it, “And put this only in the hands of Enek.”

 
    
W
hen Aderac woke, noticing his tunic, belts, and boots gone, and his hands tightly bound, he sat up suddenly alarmed and quickly looked around him as well as out into the distance. Hoping a landmark would alert him of where he was; nothing looked familiar.

 
     Several feet in front of him, the men who took him sitting and standing around a fire eating, when they heard rustling behind them, turned only giving Aderac a glance before one of them stood, tore a piece of meat off the animal they were roasting and walked towards him.

 
     Tossing it at his feet for Aderac to pick up and gladly eat, Aderac looked at it, then back at him as if he had thrown a rock at him to chew.

 
     “Eat.”

 
     “What do you want with me?” he asked indignantly, “Release me.”

 
     The man only looked at him and said nothing, but when another known as Rengad noticed he was awake and talking, rose from the grass where he lay and came over to him.

 
     “A man of great wealth you are,” he commented, as he walked back and forth in front of him, “How did you come to be?”

 
     “I am only a servant,” Aderac quickly swore, “And have nothing.”

 
     Rengad gave him a cross look.

 
     “Is that so?” he cynically questioned, and held up Aderac’s ring, amulet, and clothes.

 
     “I found them and the clothes are not my own,” Aderac swore again, “I am only a servant and have nothing.”

 
     Feeling insulted, he grabbed Aderac’s hands. Jerking them forward, he examined closely his fingernails; the palms of his hand, then looked down at his feet.

 
     “A servant.” He hissed certain he was lying. His hands, fingernails, and feet showing clearly that he had never manually worked or walked hard a day in his life, and he would have spat on Aderac’s feet if he hadn’t quickly moved them out the way, “Lies.” 

 
     “Then what do you want from me?”

 
     “There is more than one way to get gold,” he vaguely commented.

 
     Rengad’s comment reaffirming what he suspected earlier, Aderac knew the men who claimed to be nomads were possibly part of the Segorans, who traveled to WorrlgenHall to vie.

 
     “Know well,” Aderac spewed, “You will get nothing, but cold steel deep into your chest for what you have done to me.”

 
     Feeling now twice insulted, Rengad rushed towards Aderac and kicked him in the face cutting into his chin and jaw, and for the second time in his life, Aderac knew the feel of a blow.

 
     In an instant, before he had time actually to feel the blow. He tasted and felt the warmth of his own blood pooling in his mouth forcing him to swallow it, as what he couldn’t swallow trickled out the corner of his mouth onto his chin, yet fearless he remained.

 
     “Hold your tongue!” he groaned, when he pulled his boot away.

 
     “You have sealed your fate and will die for such a deed,” Aderac avowed, as he spat out more of the blood still pooling in his mouth, “And in agony.”

 
     “And who within the place you call WorrlgenHall?” he mocked, “Can stand up to me. With my bare hands,” he added, as he held up his hands and made them into fists, “I have killed wild animals and with a sword and bow to many to count, as well as animals that walk on two feet.”

 
     “This wild animal is a lion,” Aderac’s brag, “And will fiercely pounce upon you and tear you to pieces when he comes for me.”

 
     Loud was Rengad’s guffaw. “We shall see.”

 
     Aderac listened as best he could to the men’s chattering and noticed they began to speak in another language, but as he listened carefully to their dialect, from an isolated tribe far south, he couldn’t understand them.

 
     “Release me now!” he demanded when another passed by, and solely for his own amusement brutally kicked Aderac in his ribs.

 
     “Yell again,” he warned and sneered, “And it will give me pleasure to cut out that tongue of yours and throw it in the fire to roast.”

 
     Although, he groaned and coughed hard from his brutal kick, Aderac knew to silence, and the pain in his ribs great made him fear some were broken.

**

      With lit torches, frantically Belon, his men, and the guilds, combed the land searching for Aderac, and when they rode into some villages, gathering some would have special tracking dogs; he offered to pay them to have their dogs follow the scent from Aderac’s clothes, along with the dogs brought from WorrlgenHall.

 
     Willingly, several villagers agreed and once back on the trail, when they came across resting sheepherders, Belon questioned them. 

 
     “Did any men pass you wearing animal skins?”

 
     “Earlier in the night,” one offered, “Men passed us.”

 
     “Which way?”

 
     “They all rode south.”

 
     “If we ride hard,” Belon voiced, “And cut over hills, we can catch up to them. I gather they will soon rest.”

 
     “So be it,” all agreed.

 
     “Our dogs will tire and not make it.” The villagers knew, reluctant to wear them out, “We need our dogs for hunting.”

 
     Taking a few silver coins out of his pocket he knew wisely to pack should he have to bribe or pay someone, Belon tossed them to them.

 
     “They will tire,” they still insisted.

 
     Belon let out an irritated grunt from their greed and then reached again into his pouch. When he did, his hand felt the odd shaped wood that fell out of Aderac’s clothes when he picked them up.

 
     At first only preoccupied with getting a few of his clothes so the dogs could follow his scent, he haphazardly tossed it into his pouch and forgot about it, until he reached for more coins.

 
     As his thumb dug into the deep aged ridges of the darkened wood, his mind drifted to Aderac’s reaction when he gave it to him and of how his face lit before he hugged and kissed him, then immediately put it with his other odd whatnots.

 
     Overcome, that Aderac actually brought it with him to WorrlgenHall, when he eyes lifted to those staring at him waiting for a decision, there could only ever be but one.

 
     “Tell me when to stop,” his words, as he again reached into his pouch, bringing out all gold coins prepared to give them all of them.

 
     After his hand emptied, giving them enough probably to buy a pack of dogs for each family within the village, they nodded.

 
     “You will have them trail his scent until they find him or fall dead trying,” Belon; however, did warn.

**

      Now well into the night, when Aderac looked around, he noticed the men now asleep and when he tried to move to free himself, the pain so great it made him certain; if not several, at least one of his ribs were broken.

 
     “Ouuuuuhhhh,” he groaned; then groaned again when he moved his jaw up and down; then side to side, before he slowly tried to rise to look around more.

 
     Carefully, as the men soundly slept, he tried to loosen the ropes, but stopped when the one now on guard and the same man that kicked him woke and looked at him hatefully.

 
     Easing back down for fear he would kick him again, or worse, carry out his threat to cut out his tongue; he decided to use his greed to persuade him.

 
     “You,” he whispered, “Come close, and I shall make you a grand offer.”

 
     Curious about his offer, the man did.

 
     “If you release me,” he whispered, “I swear you will have much more than gold. You will have jewels, horses, land, and I will even give you a noble place in a kingdom far north.”

 
     The man sneered at him.

 
     “Your words to Rengad were you are a servant. How can a servant give someone a title?” He taunted and laughed, knowing he lied, “We shall have your wealth and still hold you.”

 
     From his words, Aderac knew they meant to hold him for ransom and trying to bride him was useless.

 
     Not even seconds after his comment, sounds of barking dogs heard close, the man hurried to a small mound to look out and saw a line of torches riding towards them.

 
     “Wake!” he shouted, as he ran back into their campsite, “Wake, they have found us!”

 
     At once, the men woke and gathered their swords and knowing they had no time to flee, as a defense set a blazing fire ring around their campsite and readied themselves to fight.

 
     When he saw the red flames just ahead of him, Belon became confident he found Aderac and certain the men who held him had set themselves to fight to the death, gave his command to send them on their way.

 
     “Guilds slay any that flee out of that fire ring,” he commanded, “Men of Ivodgald they took our king! Let none remain breathing!”

 
     When he saw them charging forward to rescue Aderac, Rengad ran over and grabbed him and when he did, Aderac arrogantly smiled. “My lion comes -”

 
     Riled by his words, a slighted spark now lit in his eyes; before he struck Aderac and took out his knife to slit his throat, but he stopped when suddenly horses jumped over the blazing fire with Belon in the lead.

 
     “Aaadeeraac!” Belon thundered. His eyes frantically trying to spot him right away before any could try to harm him out of spite.

 
     “By the tree,” Aderac alerted, “Belon, I am by the tree!”

 
     Now unconcerned with Aderac, feeling challenged, Rengad ripped open his tunic; then held his sword up to Belon as he flexed his chest and arm muscles.

 
     “I will take great joy in slaying your lion,” he boasted to Aderac; then looked back at Belon.

 
     Belon, who only noticed Aderac at first, now focused his attention on the man boldly standing in front of him. His sword high and his chest bare, Belon knew by his readied gaze and baleful grin that he wanted to fight with him as a challenge.

 
     “Come lion,” Rengad challenged, as he stepped forward and tried to goad him, “We shall see who the true slayer is.”

 
     His head ringing from being stuck with the rock and tired from running hard; then riding half the night. Belon’s mood now raw, he growled at him in no mood to fight back and forth needlessly.

 
      “Another night I would gladly agree.” His growl as he jumped off his horse with sword in hand and ready. “This night, I am in no mood.”

 
     “Tribesman!” Aderac yelled and kicked up dirt with his bare feet to distract him, and even though his head turned only for a moment, Belon seized the opportunity and pounced on him.

 
     Although, he didn’t tear him to pieces as Aderac predicted, Belon cut into him from the inside of his neck going deep into his chest.

 
     His almost severed body teetering right and left as if undecided which way to fall, finally fell hard backwards before what seemed an endless flow of blood soaked into the earth under him.

 
     As Belon widely stepped over his mutilated frame like an out of place log blocking his path to Aderac, Aderac’s arms opened wide to receive him.

 
     “Oh, Belon! Oh, honey!” Aderac’s frantic words of relief when Belon walked over to him, “I knew you would find me. I knew you would!”

 
     “Dare I never breathe again if I could not?” Belon swore, as he tightly held him.

 
     After a short kiss, Belon cut him free from his tether to the tree and as he looked at him more closely saw the large gash on his chin, his bruised cheek, and that his chest and feet were bare.

 
     “What did that filth do to you?” he asked concerned, as the strong hand that almost cut a man in half tenderly and gently touched his face, before he took off his own tunic and slid it over Aderac’s head.

 
     After he did, Aderac looked up about to answer him; then noticed one side of Belon’s head covered with fresh and dried blood.

 
     “Oh no, your head is bleeding!” Aderac cried out when he saw his wound and forgot about his own injuries as he began to worry over him and reached to touch his head, “Belon, honey your head is bleeding. Someone, get me something for Belon’s head!”