Part II: The Camulan Road
The palace was a flurry of activity. Its normally quiet and cleanly paved carriageway was filled with soldiers, horses, dirt, and shit. Servants scurried about, carrying supplies to wagons, attended to the needs of the assembled group. They did their best to keep the horse manure from getting under a noble’s boot.
The soldiers had large packs slung on their backs, though a few had eased their burden by setting the pack down and resting against it. Those soldiers who were lucky enough to be members of the cavalry had no such issue. If their mount didn’t carry their burden, they made sure to stow it on one of the wagons that would be following behind.
The palace was a quiet refuge compared to the activities outside. More servants than usual were running about, but it still felt like a place of peace. Aeolwyn stood at the main gate watching the activity. Though most would just see a cacophony of activity, he saw a delicately planned dance. Each person had a specific task they were performing, and it blended with the tasks others’ tasks to create a beautiful symphony.
The day had come. Today was Aeolwyn’s first day as a soldier. He had a uniform and everything. Well, not an official uniform yet. He wouldn’t get that until he was settled in Fort Camulan. Instead, his father made him put on his dressiest tunic and woolen trousers, complete with the family’s dragon sigil and a sash made of the family colors.
He strode out into the courtyard as proud as a peacock. The servants all stopped and bowed to him, something they normally didn’t do when they saw him. They usually just lowered their eyes and scurried on to their destinations.
In the courtyard was a massive assembly of horses, soldiers, carriages, and carts. Some of the soldiers wore simple arming doublet, while others wore chainmail or plate armor covered with a brown tabard and sigil the Kingdom of Camulan. The kingdom’s sigil was different from the royal sigil; it bore a fish and bear being protected under the wings of his father’s rearing dragon.
His father stood beside a tall old man in a plate cuirass, a helmet tucked under one arm. The gold braid on his shoulder told Aeolwyn all he needed to know. This was General Alaric, Aeolwyn’s commanding officer. He walked up to the general and bowed his head.
“Greetings, General Alaric, Prince Aeolwyn reporting for duty.” He thought that sounded smart.
The general scowled at him. “Don’t get smart, boy,” he said. “And don’t expect any kind of privileged treatment like you’re used to. You’re a regular soldier and will be expected to act as such. You’re not getting the comfort of a carriage, unless you’re too injured to ride. Say your goodbyes and mount your horse. We’re leaving within the hour.”
But he was a stern one. Aeolwyn tried not to laugh. He wasn’t sure why he found it funny. Maybe because it still seemed too much of a game to be real. Anyway, he was used to rough treatment; Sir Jom had been harsh with Aeolwyn nearly every day.
His father smiled at him and gestured for him to step forward. The general bowed at his king and took his leave. Aeolwyn took a step and bowed his head. “I am ready, father,” he said.
Just then, his mother arrived, leading a large piebald warhorse. He didn’t know she had returned from her trip to Freemoth. Her father had died, and she had left a month ago to attend his funeral. They hadn’t expected her back for another month.
She handed Aeolwyn the reins and gave him a very tight hug. He hugged her back so tight he could feel her ribs underneath her dress. She hadn’t been eating again. That was something she did when she was sad.
“You be careful, my boy,” she admonished.
She released her hug and turned to his father. Instead of curtsying to him, she scowled and slapped him across the face. His face darkened and Aeolwyn saw the king’s hand twitch. His instinct had been to slap her back.
“How could you?” she asked. “This is our boy! Our prince! And you’re sending him off to war?”
“Wife,” he started, face already reddening from the slap, “under the circumst—”
“I’ll not hear it!” she cut him off before he finished. “You traded our boy for what? Some childish prank? That is unforgiveable!”
She stormed away, hiding the tears on her face with her hands. He started to walk after her, but stopped, realizing all the eyes in the courtyard were on him. She headed up the stairs and disappeared into the palace.
His twin brothers, Wolfryn and Ulfnar were next. They both patted him on the shoulders and smiled. Wolfryn had an ornately decorated sword in a plain scabbard. He reached around and buckled the sword around Aeolwyn’s waist.
“No brother of mine is going out in the world without the finest Camulan Steel. Take care of yourself Aeolwyn,” Wolfryn said. A single tear trailed down his cheek. He wiped it away before more came.
Ulfnar pulled Aeolwyn’s left sleeve up and fastened a thin-bladed dagger to his wrist before pulling the sleeve back down. The blade felt tight and uncomfortable against his skin.
“Never go out unarmed, brother. You never know where danger lurks.” He wrapped Aeolwyn in a bear hug. Ulfnar always gave the best hugs.
A tall thin man pushed Ulfnar aside. His brother’s hand went to his own wrist before he recognized who it was, then relaxed and stepped back. It was Egnever Thaed, his brother’s friend who was prisoner with him.
“I am exiled, thanks to you!” He shouted. “Exiled!”
“Mind your words, boy,” Aeolwyn’s father said to Egnever.
“I’m sorry,” was all that Aeolwyn could muster out. He knew it was a weak apology, but he hadn’t been expecting him to come towards him yelling.
Egnever towered over Aeolwyn and leaned forward enough that Aeolwyn wanted to step back. He saw Ulfnar behind him reaching for his knife again. Aeolwyn tried to stand tall against the onslaught of rage. Egnever wouldn’t dare strike the king’s son right in front of him, and even if he did, Aeolwyn could take it. Even though his own instincts were telling him to cower and run, the prince stood as tall as he could and stared up at Egnever.
“I bear no responsibility for your choices, Egnever. You chose to be there. In fact, I saved your life! The Star Children would have executed you!”
“Bullshit,” Egenever said, though his rage seemed to be fizzling. “You killed that guard, and they wanted to take revenge out on me. I have scars from what they did.”
Aeolwyn wasn’t going to be bullied by him. He clenched his fist and stepped forward. “I was protecting myself from them. Maybe if you did the same you—”
“Thaed!” A voice shouted. “In formation!” That had to belong to General Alaric.
Egnever turned and stormed away. He didn’t even acknowledge Alfyn or the king. Aeolwyn understood what Alfyn had done to get him in this mess, but what had he or his father done to deserve his anger?
“What’d you do to him Aeolwyn?” Ulfnar asked.
“Yeah, keep an eye on him out there. There’s no telling what he’ll do to you,” Wolfryn added.
They both came forward again and hugged him. “You’ll probably be taller than me when we meet again,” Ulfnar said.
“And sneakier,” Wolfryn said. He patted Aeolwyn on his shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”
“Bye.” He couldn’t believe that he wasn’t going to see them again for a long time, if ever. His father had not given a timeline of when his exile of Camulan would end. If they didn’t come out to visit him, how would he see them?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The twins had barely stepped away before his sister Filliya ran between them and launched herself at him. He staggered back under her weight but held firm. It helped that she was just about the same weight as he was despite being a few years older. She was usually quiet and shy, and wasn’t fond of hugs, so he wasn’t sure why she had jumped into his arms.
“I’m going to miss you, Yowyn,” she sobbed into his ear. When he was born, she couldn’t pronounce his name, so she just called him Yowyn, even as they got older. For a while he tried to get her to say it right, it’s pronounced ALE-win, he would say. She would say it right, but it never stuck. Now he was glad.
“Me too,” he said, putting her down. Of all his siblings, she was the closest to him in age. They had often played together when he was little, until she was too old to play with toys anymore. He missed those days, even if it meant playing girl games.
She shoved a leather pouch into his chest as soon as she was back on her own feet hard enough that it felt like a punch to the gut, though this whole day felt like that. He opened the pouch and pulled out a silver chain with a dirty red ruby at its end. He wasn’t one for jewelry, but this looked like she had pulled it straight out of the dirt.
“Filli, I don’t know what to say,” he said, using his childhood name for her. He honestly didn’t. Was this a gift, or was she just trying to get rid of her trash?
She took the chain from him and put the amulet around his neck.
“It’s for protection,” she said. “Don’t ever take it off. Not ever!”
He wasn’t sure what a necklace could do better than a solid piece of armor, but he obliged her. “I won’t. I promise.”
She smiled and hurried away, hiding behind Ulfnar. He didn’t know why she felt safe with him. Wolfryn was the stronger of the two, and a better swordsman. If Aeolwyn needed to go to someone for protection, it would be Wolfryn.
Alfyn and Davinya stood side by side, between him and his father, who was holding the reins of the horse his mother had brought. They were holding hands, but Aeolwyn noticed that Alfyn seemed to be tightly squeezing her hand.
Her body was tense, as if she would have run away if not for Alfyn’s hold on her hand. She reached out to him with her free hand and rubbed his chest, the only thing in reach of her. He stepped forward and gave her a hug.
“Please be safe,” she said.
Alfyn just patted him on the back. “Good luck, brother,” he said as he pulled their sister away.
He was glad Alfyn didn’t stay long. His brother had gotten Aeolwyn into this mess and he didn’t know what to say. He had a lot of conflicting feelings. He wanted to gloat that he’d killed a man and he was sure Alfyn hadn’t. He wanted his brother to acknowledge that he was as brave as the crown prince. But he also had to fight back the urge to pull out Ulfnar’s dagger and plunge it into his brother’s heart. Alfyn’s little prank had upended his entire life.
His father was the last one left. He smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Did Aeolwyn see some gray at his temples? He hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. No, he wasn’t mistaken, he definitely saw gray at his father’s temples. When had that happened? Was it something Aeolwyn caused?
His father held the reins to the piebald horse his mother had given him. The king slowly walked the horse over to his son. He stood for a moment, regarding his boy. Then he spoke.
“A hero’s horse needs a good name, son. Something that will sound good alongside yours in the stories.”
Of all things to say, why had his father said that? Why wouldn’t he say he loved Aeolwyn before saying goodbye? His father wasn’t one to show strong emotions, especially not one that would suggest weakness. Expressing love was a weakness in his father’s eyes, especially in public.
“I don’t know father, what is a good name?”
“Something strong,” the king replied. “Something that will strike fear in the hearts of your foes, and that your friends will pray to see.”
“I think I will call him Sefalus,” he said. Sefalus was the horse of a legendary hero from the myths his elven nanny would tell him. Lexin the conqueror rode Sefalus during his conquest of the magical land of Gracz.
“A fine name, son,” his father said, handing the reins over to him.
The king waved to a servant who brought a chest that he laid at his feet, then scurried away. His father bent over, opened the chest and pulled out a thick metal shirt made of thousands of interlocking rings.
“A chainmail hauberk,” his father said. “Every hero needs protection.”
Aeolwyn took it and nearly dropped it. It was heavy. How did soldiers wear armor like this all day? He wasn’t strong enough yet. He was sure that General Alaric would see to that. If he were staying here Sir Jom would.
“Let me just take that,” his father said. He took the chainmail shirt and stuffed it into Sefalus’ saddlebag. When it was secured, he went back to the chest and pulled out a ornately engraved silver helmet inlayed with gold. He handed it over.
“And a helm to be recognized.”
The helmet was beautiful. The engravings were of strong beasts all fleeing from the flame of a rearing dragon. The gold was inlayed into the dragon’s flame and along every edge. The inside was lined with soft padded leather.
“Father, I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing needs to be said, son.” His father took the helm and tied it to the pommel of Sefalus’ saddle.
He suddenly grabbed Aeolwyn and pulled him into a tight hug. His father squeezed him so tightly all the air rushed out of his lungs and he felt his ribs beginning to crack. He didn’t care. He squeezed his father back with as much force as his tiny body could muster.
“I’m going to miss you, boy,” the king said softly.
The king released him and helped him into the saddle. Aeolwyn didn’t need the help, he had been riding since he was 5 years old. But something told him that this was something his father needed to do, so Aeolwyn let him. He stuck his foot into the stirrup the king held and accepted the push to get him up and over the horse’s flank.
“Do me proud, son.”
“I will, father,” Aeolwyn replied.
His father raised his hand to General Alaric, who signaled a trumpeter who blew a quick fanfare.
“Move out!” the general shouted and the caravan of soldiers, horsemen, carriages and carts slowly began moving, making their way out of the palace’s gates. A drummer started banging out a rhythm. The pikemen moved out in step to the drummer’s rhythm. When they were far enough away, the horsemen, including Aeolwyn and Sefalus followed after. This was it! He was on his way to becoming a real soldier and meet his destiny.
***
Fraius had arranged to be a member of the rear guard. There had been a recruiting drive in the slums of the dock while General Alaric had been visiting with the king. Knowing Aeolwyn was being exiled to Fort Camulan, it was a simple matter to dress in rags and sign up with the corporal in charge of recruiting new soldiers. Fraius had impressed him with his skill with a staff and so had been given charge of a small group of the recruits, into which he inserted a few trusted members of the Children. He didn’t expect to need any help, but if he got into trouble, it would be good to be prepared.
There had been a good deal of waiting around while the prince said his goodbyes. It irritated Fraius like a skin rash that the general would allow such a display. The boy was a soldier now, he didn’t deserve any special treatment. The fact that he was allowed a horse was bad enough, but to hold up the whole battalion to say goodbye to his father? Outrageous.
Finally, the boy had said his tearful farewell to his father. They were so careless. It would have been such a simple thing to kill the both of them. He toyed with the fantasy for a moment as the line of soldiers got slowly underway. He wondered how many of the royal family he could kill before he would meet his end.
Could he kill all of them? It was definitely possible. None of them were particularly skilled in combat. The only one who would present even an inkling of a challenge was the younger twin, Ulfnar. He was seen regularly in the taverns and bars along the docks and slums. In those areas one had to take care of themselves. The denizens of those regions easily recognized weakness and would quickly pounce on a fat target, especially someone as obviously wealthy as a royal.
Yet he was left alone night after night. That only meant one thing: Ulfnar was dangerous. A skilled fighter and known killer. Fraius salivated at the thought of pitting himself against such a man. He rarely faced such a challenge anymore.
It wasn’t a question of if Fraius could kill him. It was a question of how long it would take, and whether he would be able to dispatch him quickly enough to hit other targets in the royal family.
He wouldn’t kill Ulfnar first. That would likely mean he would be his only target. However, he couldn’t take him on last, either. He would be in action as soon as he caught wind of the attack. Fraius wouldn’t be able to avoid him.
So, third or fourth would be appropriate, as long as the first three were the easier targets. Aeolwyn and the king would be first. It didn’t matter in what order he dispatched them. The fat king and young boy wouldn’t put up much resistance. After that, if Ulfnar hadn’t reached him yet, maybe one of the women or the other twin.
Whether he would be able to kill his next target after Ulfnar was questionable, and it thrilled him to fantasize about it. Even if he could get through the entire royal family, the assault would be a death sentence, but that was a small price to pay for such a grand feat. The children of the Courageous Order of Heavens would be talking about it for eternity.
But it was not to be, at least not yet. Star Lord Longinus had forbidden it and had directed Fraius to kill the boy on the road to Fort Camulan. That his son wasn’t safe so far away from the capital was the message the Star Lord wanted to send. That he could be reached surrounded by soldiers would shake the king’s confidence down to his bones.
Someone caught his eye as the rear guard passed through the gates.
Standing beside the open portcullis, leaning against a lamppost was a strange woman in dark clothes covered in a jet-black cloak. That in itself wasn’t unusual. What was unusual about her was her color: She was as dark as a moonless night.
He had seen other people of her color many times, but never this far north. Most of the people of their color, black was what they termed it, kept within the borders of Tambryne. The answer to what she was doing this far north sparked his imagination.
Although she was trying to appear innocently casual, the air of dangerousness that surrounded her suggested otherwise. She was going to be following them. Fraius wasn’t in any danger, of course, but someone else in the group would be, and it didn’t take a brilliant mind to figure out who. He would have to keep an eye on her.