Chapter 9
The wooden gate of manor house sat open, in front was a wreath of orange, one of blue and one of purple.
Across the dark yard of the manor house came the faint sounds of voices, drifting from the open windows of the dining room. Spring had returned and with it the warm nights. Valtteri had thrown open the shutters to let the smell of the forest flowers clean out the stale halls of the house.
Lugus and Nerys were huddled at one end of dining table with quills and parchment, scratching out the movement of men and taking stock of supplies. Bahruun had spread himself across one of the leather chair that sat in front of the hearth talking, loudly, to Valtteri of which city he thought they should conquer first. Discussing the differences in woman, drugs and other pleasures. Valtteri laughed adding his own experiences of the cities as Bahruun rambled.
“The nobles of Hawkescliff were always the most tiresome,” sighed Bahruun, “vaults overflowing with gold, thanks to their lacking imagination. That gold is probably still just sitting there, waiting to be taken.”
Valtteri laughed, he had grown to enjoy Bahruun’s company more then he thought he would when he had first met the white, twitching Lowman at the gate. In fact he had come to enjoy the company of both the Lowmen, Bahruun and Lugus, which he found odd. Usually, he found such company insufferable.
“I don’t think you have enough muscle to stage such a robbery.”
“I’m sure you’re enough muscle for both of us,” said bahruun and raised his half full wine glass to his lips and sipped, after a short pause Bahruun looked at Lugus, “what state was Hawkescliff in when you left?”
Lugus raised his head and met Bahruun’s eyes. Valtteri smiled to himself, he had not questioned Lugus about his role as a Black Snake, feeling the questions would lead nothing but vague answers, but Bahruun was never concerned about with such things.
“I was gone before the Diamond Heart left,” said Lugus flatly and turned back to Nerys.
“A guard that, without reason, decides to leave his watch moments before the world comes crashing down,” said Bahruun, “you certainly are a lucky man.”
“I don’t think we need to keep the trading post,” said Lugus ignoring Bahruun, “we’ll take it back later.”
“If we lose anything now, we lose it all,” said Nerys shaking her head, “the people only turn to us for protection, nothing else.”
“You know what I would do, Valtteri,” started Bahruun loudly, “if I was a guard who knew it was all going to end. I would find a bunch of fools to loan me a few hundred gold each, knowing they won’t be there to collect in the morning. Grab the fastest horse and get out of town before sun rose. Leave the city behind me to burn and find a nice, quiet, place in the plains and enjoy my new wealth. Maybe a trading post, where I could find some simple minds who would easily believe I was a great commander.”
Lugus turned to Bahruun, his face cold and hard.
“How close am I?” asked Bahruun with a smile.
Nerys pushed herself back in her seat and put down the quill.
“How did you find out?” asked Bahruun not looking away with a sudden hardness in his voice, “did you run the message from the king, sneaking a quick look as you ran through the halls?
“No, no… you weren’t important enough for that, were you? I bet you were crouched at your captain’s door wondering to yourself ‘What had brought the rider in the night?’
Did you pissed in yourself when you heard what was coming? Did you run crying from the watch house, your pants stuck to your leg?”
Lugus picked up a bowl and hurled it at Bahruun with all his strength, it hit the wall behind Bahruun and pieces porcelain scattered across the room. Bahruun burst into laughter.
“Gentleman, please,” yelled Nerys standing up.
“Don’t worry, Lugus,” laughed Bahruun, “Valtteri and I will put things right in Hawkescliff and when we do we will erect a statue to honour the great Lugus, who now rules because he ran.”
“Shut it, Bahruun,” Nerys shouted.
Bahruun continued to laugh to himself, but turned back to the fire.
“Lugus, back to the papers,” said Nerys lowering herself back into her seat.
Bahruun picked up a shard of porcelain that had fallen into his lap and rolled it between his fingers, enjoying how the shard stabbed at his skin.
The door open and Sayjin entered, a solemn look on his face. The swollen, grey man shuffled behind, as he always did, holding Sam beneath his arm.
“How are your men?” ask Nerys.
“Well enough,” said Sayjin taking the bottle of wine from the table.
Sayjin lifted the bottle to his mouth and gulped three or four mouthfuls before coming up for air.
“They’re quite industrious,” said Nerys.
“Men with purpose always are,” said Horun.
Horun sat at the far end of table and placed Sam on to the ground next to him. Sayjin hated when he carried Sam with him, he had never spoken of his vision to Horun, but Sayjin knew he knew because, somehow, Horun always knew.
Sayjin had fled the cave as the masses knelt, silent, in their corrupted water, escaped into the forest and took into the manor house. He ran upstairs to attic and shut the door behind him. He found Sam munching on stray scraps that remained from the plate he had left just a few days earlier.
At least Sayjin thought it had been a few days, he did not really know how long he had been gone, but the plate was still half full. The plate of root brought sense to his world again and he steadied himself against the door.
The night came and Sayjin started to feel stupid as he paced the attic, hiding like a child in the attic was not like him. He laughed and shook his head, he need to find a new mark. No wreath had been laid, the crown could still be his. He went to the door and opened it.
There stood Horun, in his hands a plate of fresh leaves and roots. Without a word the man pushed passed Sayjin and placed the plate in front of Sam. Sayjin watched frozen, no words were spoken. Since then, Horun had been with Sayjin from dawn to dusk, Horun did not always bring Sam, but every now and then he would.
The people of the cave came next, massing at the wooden gate. There, they waited, numb to the world and time. A girl of seven or eight held a wreath of purple flowers in her hands. Sayjin lost his temper many times at them, cursing and threatening them with all his rage, even killing a few in his fury, but nothing moved them.
As the days passed he realised, Horun and his people were going to stay with him until they choose otherwise. Sayjin came to accepted the situation and just hoped these things, not truly men, would move on soon. Until then, he would find a use for them.
“Are you here to follow?” he called to them one morning.
“We have seen through the eye of a dragon,” called one from the crowd.
The girl walked forward and placed her wreath at the gate.
“We will build our city now, to honour your coming,” whispered the girl her eyes vacant, clouds dancing across their surface.
The people moved for the first time, turning their gaze from the manor house gates to the forest.
The next day Valtteri had arrived from his exploits to site a hundred or so people using makeshift axes to clear the forest, others collected stones for the foundations of their shelters. The men worked without words, there eyes dead, Valtteri moved through the sea of ghosts and found his friend watching from the attic, a swollen grey man with him, nursing the goat.
“What have you found?” asked Valtteri.
“Strange allies for the kingdom,” said Sayjin simply, “but allies they are.”
Now, Sayjin lent against the window of the window sill in the dining room not wanting to look at the Horun who sat at the table.
“We need some of your men to fortifying the trading post,” said Nerys.
“You mean Valthaven,” corrected Valtteri.
Nerys sighed.
“Horun, will they leave their work?” asked Sayjin, still not looking at the man.
“They will do as you command,” said Horun, “we are one with your vision.”
Sayjin flinched at words, he had learnt to hate Horun’s words. When the man spoke he spoke with words that left him feeling exposed and mocked, but Horun never showed a hint of malice in his manner. Sayjin often wondered why the words cut him so deep. What caused him to despise Horun so much? When he searched for the answer, he found none. Horun simply disgusted him, in his subservient manner and hideous form, and there was nothing more to the matter.
“Then take what you need,” said Sayjin, “take all of them if we want, that is my only vision.”
“We won’t need that many,” said Nerys still lost in her numbers.
“Must you feed that thing at dinner table,” growled Bahruun, “it is enough I must look at your hideous flesh when I eat, must I also entertain the smell of farm animals.”
“I agree,” said Nerys, “its time you butcher that beast and be done with it. We have been welcoming long enough.”
Sayjin eyes snapped to Horun, how would the man react to such a thing being said. But Horun did not respond, he just sat quietly and continued to feed the goat, the words meant nothing to him.
To hell with this, thought Sayjin, slice the neck of beast and be done with it here. If Horun knew what he seemed to, it was a sure way to send him and his followers on their way.
The room was waiting for Sayjin to speak.
“Not now, Nerys,” growled Sayjin and went back to his bottle.
Nerys shrugged and shook her head.
“What causes the bloating, is it water under there or blood or something worse?” asked Bahruun with a giggle.
“The power of the god’s are taxing on the mortal form,” replied Horun.
“The power of the gods,” scoffed Valtteri with a laugh, “show us your powers, Master Horun.”
Sayjin winced, but no one noticed. Horun ignored the room and continued to feeding Sam.
“Can your powers dig a well or bring an army?” spat Nerys a look of hatred crossing her face.
“I can see through the eye of a dragon,” said Horun turning to meet her gaze.
“And what do you see?” sneered Nerys.
There was a silence as the two stared at each other.
“I see… A farmhouse.”
“Is there a bumper crop at your farmhouse?”
“No,” said Horun his eyes flicked to Sayjin, “the fields are bare.”
“Well until your dragons find us the farms to feed our kingdom, I won’t hear of gods or your apparent powers. Keep your men loyal and inline and we will have no problems between us.”
Nerys broke her gaze away from his and went back to her numbers.
Horun patted Sam on the head. He did not correct Nerys, like he did whenever Sayjin accused him of being a servant of the god. He seemed unconcerned by the Child that sat across from him.
“One day, Horun,” Bahruun smiled wickedly and stabbed his shard of porcelain into the air, “pop.”
Bahruun laughed to himself and drank what remained of his wine.
“Sayjin, if you would,” Bahruun whined and waved his empty glass in the air.
Sayjin walked from the window and poured him another.
Valtteri rang a small bell he had placed on the mantle. A man appeared at door dressed in a fine black suit, his eyes were surrounded by black rings, his eyes cloudy.
“We will have dinner now,” said Valtteri to the man, who bowed stiffly and left, “to the table, friends.”
“Not with that beast,” snapped Bahruun, “I’ll take dinner in my room.”
“You will sit with everyone and be dismissed when I say,” said Nerys.
Sayjin quickly took the seat next to Nerys, as far from Horun as he could. Bahruun was forced to drop himself next to swollen man, throwing a disgusted glance at Sam. Valtteri took the final seat between Lugus and Horun.
“It’s quite the table we have tonight,” cheered Valtteri, “and the first time we dine since the return my only and dearest blood and to honour this fine evening I present a gift from Valthaven for us all to enjoy.”
Valtteri and produced the grubby, half drunk bottle of rancid wine, placing it in the centre of table.
“Sayjin, if you will pour,” said Valtteri gracefully, “Bahruun, if you could empty your glass.”
Sayjin took the bottle and poured and a mouthful of liquid into each glass.
Bahruun smelt the new wine and turned his nose away in disgust.
“What is this, Valtteri?”
Valtteri ignored him. Nerys smelt the wine as well and shoot Valtteri a hard look, her blood simply smiled back and waited for Sayjin to take his seat.
Valtteri lifted his glass.
“A fine woman from Valthaven presented me this gift and she did say, ‘My lord, this is the ancient drink of our people and, as such, will give you the great strength and vigour needed to rule,’” Valtteri looked around at the unimpressed table, “and, so I simply say to you all. Welcome to your home and to our land.”
He drank and the others followed. Sayjin sipped a small amount and put the glass down. Lugus spat the wine onto the table. Bahruun winced, gagged, spilling what remained in glass on to the table.
“I think, I can see through the eyes of a dragon, now,” laughed Lugus grabbing for his mug of ale.
“So, you do have a sense of humour,” coughed Bahruun, “Sayjin, your bottle please.”
Nerys and Horun drank fully and placed their glasses aside and then looked at each for a moment.
“I was careless, my blood” said Nerys, “I did not think to bring the wonders of Finestone to our table, but know the people send their best wishes.”
At that moment the dark-eyed servant entered with a tray of meat.
“I have been slaving all day on this,” announced Valtteri, “please bring it to the centre of the table.”
The servant obliged and placed the roast in front them all. Valtteri noticed Sayjin was looking at him across the table with a tired expression.
“Venison, of course,” smiled Valtteri at his friend, “fetched by your people. Nothing but the finest for our new lords, but please bring the second roast for my blood and I.”
The man nodded, silently, and moved back through the doors.
“Please,” said Horun his had gently finding the arm of the servant and the man stop, “I will partake of the second roast.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“That meat will likely not agree with you,” said Nerys.
“The flesh of man has a very unique flavour, does it not?” said Horun, “nothing is quiet like it. It takes me back to better times.”
“What times were that?” asked Bahruun cutting into roast on table.
“I was on a smuggling ship from the Sparkling Isle bound for Suther’s Arch when the Imperial Navy caught us just off The Rough,” said Horun quietly, “the forces blew out our masts and left us to drift. As the days passed our food supplies dwindled until there was only one thing left to eat.”
“You were a pirate?” asked Lugus.
“Sometimes.”
“Enough,” yelled Sayjin banging his fists on the table an anger suddenly took him, “Horun is a daft, old man who has spent his forest, nothing more. Now, give me some damn meat.”
Bahruun, stunned by the outburst, put the piece he was cutting for himself in front of Sayjin.
“You smell sweet, Horun,” said Nerys with questioning look.
“Not another word, Horun,” growled Sayjin, “everyone eat.”
“As you wish,” said Horun and lowered his head to look at his plate.
Nerys look at Sayjin, but he refused to acknowledge her, cutting his knife into the meat and taking a chunk into his mouth.
The servant arrived with the second lump of meat.
“Please, carve it for us three,” said Valtteri and the man nodded, took the large carving knife from the tray and set about his task.
“I only saw the wreaths at the gate,” said Nerys with a smile.
“I was wondering when you would mention that,” sighed Valtteri.
“Tell me, my blood,” grinned Nerys sensing victory, “which arrived first?”
Bahruun sat back in his chair, quietly. Lugus found his mug.
“We have been bested, my blood,” said Valtteri and stuffed a chunk of meat into his mouth, “‘cause the fool I choose could not find his way a few miles down a straight road.”
Lugus smirked from behind his cup.
Valtteri lent forward and took his golden goblet from the table.
“To our new King, Sayjin,” he proclaimed with a smile raising his mug, “may his reign be long and fruitful.”
“May he one day claim all and take the Golden Throne,” added Horun.
“You are an ambitious man, Horun,” cut in Nerys.
“Enough, Nerys,” snapped Sayjin, “I will enjoy my victory.”
“But I must protest, my dear Sayjin,” said Nerys, “I see no wreath of red at the gates.”
“Do the colours matter?” snapped Sayjin.
“Of course they do, my friend,” replied Nerys with no malice, “we have come to rule and a part that is to be specific in our commands and ruthlessly observant in their execution. The wrong colour means your followers are not truly loyal.”
“I forgot the colour, I chose,” rebuked Sayjin.
“The rules were stated clearly,” said Nerys, “and if we do not honour them what start is this to our kingdom.”
“A poor one,” agreed Sayjin with a nod, “you are right, Nerys. I withdraw from the contest.”
Valtteri whacked Lugus in the back of the head, causing him to spill his ale, Bahruun laughed wildly.
“Then which was next?” asked Nerys.
“I could have been King,” he snarled.
“I was next, my lady,” cheered Bahruun.
“Then, it seems the contest is settled,” said Nerys, “maybe I will claim the Golden Throne also.”
She looked at Horun, but he had lost interest in the table and was now looking down at Sam again, patting her head softly.
Lugus raised his mug with a broad smile.
“To our queen,” he declared, “long may she reign.”
“Don’t forget who your true master is,” growled Valtteri to Lugus raising his goblet of sugar water to his lips.
“That would be my one and only liege, Queen Nerys,” stated Lugus, “I will serve no other as long as she lives.”
“And what am I then?” sneered Valtteri.
“My blood,” said Nerys with a loving smile.
“Which would make me…”
“Some would say horse shit,” interrupted Bahruun.
“Others would simply ask ‘who?’,” laughed Lugus.
“Others may say, usurper,” muttered Horun to Sam.
Valtteri heard him, but the others did not.
“My Lord Counts, please,” said Nerys standing, “I am but half of myself without my blood and you will show him the same love as you show me.”
“I’ll be sure of it, my Queen,” grinned Bahruun.
“Now, I thank you all for your efforts, but now is the only the first of many hard days ahead,” she began,”if we are to rebuild we will need to be true, fair and loyal to one another. We will need to give our full devotion to our mission.
“This, I declare, on the first day of our new kingdom, a kingdom not to be named for the dragon’s that enslaved us, but for the name of the noble blood that flows in my veins. This realm will be known from this day forth as the Kingdom of Pryce.”
The End