The High King: A Tale of Alus Read online

  "Nice start, boy. Let's see what ya got," Garok laughed.

  At first, Garok slashed half heartedly towards Gerid. As his blows were continually parried and quickly countered by the determined boy, his grin started to diminish. Simon's smile of pleasure grew quickly, however, as he watched his brother's swordsmanship come alive.

  He and his brother had some informal training from a retired soldier that their father had been able to talk into the idea of training two children. But in the past few years since Joseph had passed away, Simon had only practiced with his younger brother on a few occasions. He hadn't realized that Gerid had such a talent for it or that apparently the boy had kept up with his practice.

  The fight continued. The duel had already lasted a few minutes already. The soldier was sweating and his breathing could be heard easily as the fight began to wind him. Whereas the soldier was starting to gasp from the fight, Gerid seemed much fresher. In fact, Simon finally realized that the boy was only toying with the man.

  Simon looked to the soldier's face. The man was worried.

  "I knew we should have put money on this," Simon heard one of his men whisper to another. "The master can put this poor bastard away anytime that he wishes now. Look at him. It's pathetic." The others chuckled. Simon glanced to the soldiers. The sergeant was especially angry.

  "Quiet down," Simon hissed to the shepherds.

  "Are you ready to bleed yet?" he heard his brother's sudden laughter and returned his attention to the fight. The soldier's stamina was definitely beginning to drain, while Gerid's condition appeared unwavering.

  "No, I won't be beaten so easily!" Garok puffed valiantly.

  Gerid barked a sharp laugh, "Who do you think that you are? You act like you are a lord of the land defending his people. You... are... nothing!" Each word accounted for a stroke of his sword. There were three quick beats that were followed by Garok's cry of pain. Blood was sprayed upon the ground from a slash across the man's right cheek. The soldier dropped his sword to the ground as his hands swept to his face to try and stop the bleeding.

  "Garok, ya pathetic slug!" the sergeant snarled spitting. "Ya disgust me. Humbled by a farm boy, ya make me sick!"

  The other soldiers grumbled their agreement.

  Gerid's grinning face quickly darkened. "Why pick on Garok? At least he had the nerve to fight on when he knew that I could beat him, but you, you fat old pig, you sit up there acting like you could do better. Then there are your toadies, who don't seem to be even half the man Garok is. You are the ones that are sickening to watch."

  "Gerid cut it out. You are acting crazy!" Simon cried in worry over the extra goading. He didn't think that the boy's luck could last through another duel.

  Gerid turned to him and shook his head disapprovingly. "I am not crazy. I just want to test the mettle of our so called protectors, because if Garok's as good as they get, we are paying them too much."

  "All right, boy," the sergeant broke in angrily. "Your mouth has just earned you another duel."

  "First blood," Gerid replied calmly, "or shall I begin taking limbs?"

  The sergeant’s face darkened. "First blood is fine. Pica fight `im and put `im in `is place for me. I'd kill this kid if I fought `im now."

  "Is Pica your best, sergeant? I want your best. Why play around? Why are we wasting time?"

  The sergeant sighed with frustration. "Just fight, ya little punk."

  Gerid's eyes showed his ambitions. Simon feared that the boy would get himself killed yet, but his brother surprised them all. In half a minute of vicious swordplay, Pica lay dazed on his back in the dirt from a punch to the jaw. Gerid had simply closed with the man and deftly disarmed him. He had finished off the man with his fist rather than a sword and turned back to the other soldiers before the man’s body had hit the earth.

  "Come on, sergeant. Garok was much better than this man." Gerid turned to look at Simon, "They aren't soldiers, just common thugs. Whatever you are paying them is too much. Don't pay them."

  "That does it," the sergeant declared, "get `im, men!"

  One at a time the soldiers attacked the boy and every time it wound up that the soldiers were left in the dirt nursing minor wounds and bruised egos. The sergeant was last and he could hardly bring himself to leave the safety of his horse. It took the badgering of his own men to finally get him down to receive his just rewards. In fact, it took longer for him to meet Gerid on the ground than it did for him to be disarmed and knocked unconscious by the boy.

  The soldiers all hid slight smiles of satisfaction at his treatment.

  The shepherds helped to tie the sergeant onto his saddle. They left the animals in the squad's care as the lord had required, but as they ventured off Simon had to put in a last word. "The animals are yours to bring to Grimnal Keep as required, but my brother has a point. If a sixteen year old shepherd boy can defeat a squad of his lordship's soldiers, then perhaps the guild is paying King Merrick too much. I feel safer with one boy than the entire lot of you. Good day, gentlemen, don't let any children steal the animals away from you on the way," he finished unable to stop himself and turned to return to the dinner that they had left unfinished.

  Interlude- Grimnal Keep, a few days later The old man, known as Vizier, crept through the throne room chamber his shoulders slightly hunched with age and the top of his head bald with a crescent of gray from ear to ear. Torches were lit in their sconces along walls and on every other support column in the two rows alongside the main walkway. The flames were only a few feet above the vizier's head and lit the walkway well enough with their red glow, but, as the robed official glanced upward towards the high ceiling shrouded with shadows, the heavy atmosphere seemed foreboding as he steeled himself for dealing with Merrick.

  The room was empty of everyone save a few soldiers manning their stations. The vizier ignored the men and went straight over to a small door at the side of the throne's dais. Scarlet tapestries behind the throne disguised the passageway perfectly with their flowing lengths as they were intended to do, but the man found the doorway easily and knocked on its wooden surface quietly.

  With a slight creak, a servant opened the door from within without a word. The official spotted his master dressed in black, dark haired and brooding upon the balcony set across from the throne room in the lord's private study. Merrick was in such a contemplative mood that it took several moments before he deigned to notice the second most important man in his land. "What is it, Krulir? By the look on your face, I assume that you have troubling news, so speak and get it over."

  Vizier Krulir's stomach curdled. His lord was in an especially bad mood this day, which was never good for delivering bad news. "Well, there is good news as well, m' lord."

  Merrick folded his arms imperiously and tilted his head back waiting unimpressed. His brown eyes were shadowed by his frowning brow.

  The vizier nearly sighed aloud, but caught the act mid breath quickly knowing that doing so would make the lord even more annoyed. "Our troops have just arrived back with the required tribute that the traders’ guild promised us..."

  "And...?" Merrick snapped at him waiting impatiently.

  "And one of the squads came back bloodied from a duel with a shepherd boy."

  "What?" the lord asked quietly and controlled though the vizier knew the tone too well and it only slightly masked his anger. Merrick's rage continued to rise while he was still sorting out the information of what had happened. Continued confusion as the vizier procrastinated made the lord angrier still. "Just one shepherd boy? What happened?"

  Krulir swallowed with difficulty. "Well,

  apparently, the master of the home gave the squad the proper tithe, but the younger brother of the farmer was angered and drawn into a duel. He fought them all. The soldiers say that the boy was an excellent fighter with exceptional strength and stamina. The duels lasted nearly a half hour and the boy was still fresh enough to put away their sergeant, who is a competent enough swordsman, I am told. He did it easily
from what I hear."

  "I'll deal with the squad later. What family chose to dishonor the trade agreement?"

  "The Aramatheas near the town of Bearden in the southeast quarter of Marshalla. From what I am to understand though, they honored the trade agreement properly. It was a personal matter of some kind that sparked the duels," Krulir answered trying to keep the lord calm by smoothing out the facts. Lord Merrick was known for his temper tantrums unfortunately for the old man.

  "I do not care what the cause was, vizier. What I do care about is that my men were made fools of there and that reflects badly upon me. I won't tolerate such affronts to myself or my army. Do you understand?"

  Nodding in agreement, he answered, "Yes, m' lord. What would you have me do to rectify the matter, sire?"

  He heard a low growl from the lord. "Kill the sergeant. Put the others into a capable sergeant’s hands for discipline. Do you have any more bad news, vizier, or are you through here?" he asked grumpily.

  "That was all, my lord."

  "Fine, then get out of my sight, old man, before I lose my temper!"

  Krulir turned away not wanting to even think of such a consequence coming about. If this was not his temper, he would prefer not seeing his true rage unleashed.

  Chapter 3- Half a Year Later

  The door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it. Dust fell from the ceiling without Simon's noticing as he stormed out of the house. "Gerid, where do you think that you are going, boy? You've still got chores to do!"

  Gerid stood with one of the shepherds. It was his best friend, Janus. Simon saw his brother look over at him first and then mutter something under his breath to the shepherd. The young man finished with a sigh. As Gerid turned grudgingly towards his brother, Simon caught a final rolling of the younger man's eyes. "I need to go, Simon. I've done everything that needs to be done today. Whatever's left, I can always do tomorrow. There's always something that needs doing on this farm anyways."

  Simon's eyes narrowed with fury. "No, you'll do them now. You can put off whatever you two have cooked up, not the chores."

  "No, Simon," he answered firmly, "the others are waiting for us as it is, so I am going. You can't stop me."

  The elder brother finally caught sight of the sheathed sword strapped to the young man's side. Janus wore one as well. "Don't count on it," he muttered. "Where do you think you're going anyway? You seem to be carrying that sword of yours an awful lot lately."

  Gerid folded his arms defiantly for a moment before the boy suddenly softened. "We've been training with swords."

  Shrugging with his hands spread palm upward, Simon asked, "Why? Why do you need to practice with that thing?"

  The younger man suddenly looked

  uncomfortable. "Well... you see many of the farmers and townsfolk are starting to have problems paying King Merrick's tribute. People outside the guilds are being forced to pay well beyond their means. Stephen Tarsis started meetings with many of the men a couple of months ago. He heard about what I did to Merrick's soldiers and asked me to come join them that I might teach them how to fight."

  Suspicions quickly flew into his mind. "Is Tarsis trying to start a rebellion? I'll have him taken care of if he is. Father would rise from out of his grave, if you were killed trying to do something stupid like that!"

  "You don't understand!" Gerid growled. "Stephen isn't doing this because he wants to rule in Merrick's place. He has been in contact with several other towns and farms. The people are all looking to the coming winter in fear. If Merrick keeps taxing them the way that he is, then many of them will be left to starve before next spring."

  Simon shook his head unwilling to believe it. "No, it's nowhere near that bad. The taxes we pay are only a minimal portion of what we have."

  "That's what I said at first, Simon. The guild protected itself very well, but the common men outside the guild are in serious trouble. You're deluding yourself, if you truly believe that Lord Merrick, the so called Warden of the North, is taxing fairly. Open your eyes. Go to the town and talk with them. Look at the way that they live now and it’s actually getting worse.

  "Soldiers have been rumored to have been attacking those that can't pay. I've even heard that they've raped women and burned down several families homes to the ground.

  "Stephen is simply trying to unify the people. If we form together and explain what is fair to King Merrick, maybe then he'll relent. If not..., then maybe it will be time to put a new ruler in his place, one that takes care of his people, instead of taking advantage of them."

  "That's treason, boy!" Simon replied. "The words that I hear sound like they are someone else’s though. If you continue to dispute the lord's actions like that, then you'll wind up getting yourself killed in some foolish rebellion. I cannot allow that."

  Gerid sighed and held up his hand to stop his brother's words. "Enough. I am going. If you want to talk about it tonight, fine. I won't change my mind, but we can talk about it." The young man turned then and started towards the road. Janus looked briefly at Simon and sighed. He too turned and followed Gerid.

  Simon stood watching their backs a moment longer before he finally decided that he should follow. Returning inside the house long enough to grab up his sword and to let the others know of his departure, Simon ran to the barn to saddle his horse and rode after the young men.

  The vizier followed his lord through a small, dank hallway deep under the castle. It was proving to be an exceedingly long passage, long enough to make the man wonder if they still remained beneath Grimnal Keep. They finally arrived at a small wooden door framed in iron. It was reinforced with cross plating of iron as well to make it exceptionally strong, and heavy as well by the grunt that he heard the soldier give in front of him as he pushed the door inward. Why such a door would be hidden away down here, was beyond his speculation. He had never been informed of its existence or its reason in all his years as vizier and he prided himself on knowing just about everything that went on inside the Grimnal.

  That was until now, as he found the reason inside the room on the other side.

  Men robed in red looked in the direction of the doorway. There were a few tables with books cluttering them and scattered among glass tubes and metal instruments which the vizier had never known to exist before. Behind the men, stood a large, stone table, which lay only a few feet from the base of the back wall. There was an unusual grouping of stone inlaid in a rough pattern set into the stone wall beyond the gray stone plateau. If it had actually led to an opening in the surface, he would have thought that it was an oval doorway.

  A tall, red, robed figure moved towards them from the group of mysterious men. His robe bore inlays of gold and ebony unlike any of his fellows. "Lord Merrick," the man greeted in a deep voice and bowed slightly, "you've come to oversee the last piece of the gathering?"

  "Yes, Kalem, are our friends ready to join us?"

  The other man nodded, "Oh most definitely, my lord. They tire of the wait to come to our world and have readily offered their services in exchange for our freeing them from its ruinous existence."

  The vizier watched his master smile coldly as he replied, "Good, then my plans go as expected. Begin the ritual of gathering."

  Krulir looked about warily. He seemed to be the only one present that had absolutely no idea what was transpiring here, but he was unsure that he should ask of it where Merrick was concerned. "Sire?" he ventured carefully.

  "Yes, Krulir?" Merrick questioned without deigning to look at him. He was forcing the vizier to tread on treacherous ground intentionally.

  "What is this gathering?"

  "I have enlisted allies to help enforce my will upon all of the North Continent. The plans have been in progress since the first resistance to the taxing half a year ago. Now be quiet. Wait and watch."

  A scream echoed throughout the chamber from a side door that he had not noticed when he had entered. A young woman was dragged into the room struggling against her captors. She was complete
ly naked Krulir noticed as they dragged her to the stone table. His chest pounded quickly and his limbs went numb as he realized what her role had to be in this ritual.

  The robed men tossed her onto the hard slab with all the care of a hog thrown into the slaughterhouse. Her wrists and ankles were then chained to rings set into the corners of the table, even as she screamed on and on.

  King Merrick's eyes suddenly flashed with anger before he quickly stalked forward towards the table. The vizier hoped that he too felt the sense of disgust for such a sacrifice as well as he, but those hopes were dashed as he struck the woman sharply across the face.

  The victim lay dazed for a moment.

  "Why did you not bind the wretch's mouth as well, Kalem? The wench is hurting my eardrums!"

  The man looked at him stone faced and answered, "The ritual requires an unclothed virgin, sire. Even a cloth gag would throw off the content of the spell. Besides, the spirits seem to relish the anguish in their victims screams," he replied with a grim smile. Kalem nodded to the other sorcerers and they took up their positions around the table. There were eight who joined hands together into a circle and began to hum. The ninth man, Kalem, stood just within the circle facing the altar and the wall.

  The girl lay upon the stone wide eyed with fear. When Kalem reached into his cloth folds and withdrew a rune engraved knife, the young woman started to scream at its sight. The scream was rather short lived, as with a brief incantation, the sorcerer plunged the blade down into her throat.

  Krulir turned away appalled, but still he could hear the gurgling of her breath through the blood filling her throat and lungs. The gurgling wouldn't stop, though it should have. Forced to turn back by his morbid curiosity, he found the girl with the blade still driven completely through her neck.

  The bricks of the stone gateway quickly drew his attention from the girl as they began to flicker. An electrical charge started to fill the room. Krulir's eyes stung and began to tear making the scene hazy and he could fill the hairs on his head rising in a halo of static.