They staggered their way through Foregate, Aeolwyn and Galafar helping carry the struggling Egnever. His wound had festered, and he was in and out of consciousness. Fortunately for them it hadn’t gotten to the point where he couldn’t walk. Aeolwyn wasn’t sure if they could carry the tall man.
Foregate was a shanty town that had sprung up around Fort Camulan. It was a dirty, dusty village made of ramshackle housing and makeshift shopfronts. The streets were unpaved and filled with mud, slop, and other unidentified muck.
The streets were full of dirty peasants selling their wares. Shopkeepers hawked their wares on wobbly tables in front of houses that barely stood. Prostitutes walked the streets in clothing that barely covered their own wares, and every third building was a tavern or public house.
Fights were common; in the short time that Aeolwyn and his group had carried Egnever through the town they had already seen ten fights and two stabbings. A few men with surly faces studied the group, but upon seeing their weapons thought better of robbing them and looked for their marks elsewhere.
As they walked a commotion appeared in front of them. Dust rose from the road and people began to move out of the way. Their group struggled to follow the crowd, but carrying Egnever made it difficult.
A quartet of mounted soldiers came to a halt directly in front of them. Aeolwyn winced as he feared they were going to run the group down.
“My lord prince!” one of the riders exclaimed. “General Alaric sends his greetings and begs you to come with us back to the fort.”
They must have been a pitiful sight, as all the soldiers dismounted in a flash. One was wearing a robe fashioned to look like the soldier’s uniforms. He unlimbered his staff from the horse and hurried over to Egnever. A blue glow came from his hand, and he ran it down their dying friend.
“He is in grave danger,” The mage said. “We must get him to the fort quickly.”
The mage looked around hurriedly and pointed at a merchant unloading a wagon of ale in front of a tavern. “You!” he said to the merchant. “Dump your load and help me with this man. The general will see to your wages.”
The merchant looked surprised and shocked but started throwing the barrels off the wagon as quickly as he could. Two of the soldiers ran over to help. Some of the ale was preserved, but most of the barrels broke open and their contents added to the mysterious liquid that seemed to be in front of every building.
The soldier who had greeted Aeolwyn ran over and grabbed Egnever’s feet. Together, the three of them loaded their friend onto the cart. The merchant and Galafar climbed onto the buckboard while the mage stayed in the back tending to Egnever.
One of the soldiers offered the mage’s horse to Aeolwyn, but he declined, offering it to Reiva instead. He wasn’t going to leave his friend. As soon as Reiva mounted the horse, Aeolwyn realized what a bad idea it was. She could have ridden anywhere in the kingdom. She could have even crossed the Tyr and escaped to Fennland.
But she didn’t. Even knowing that she could be riding to her own death by entering the fort, she went anyway. Aeolwyn would do his best to protect her, but there was only so much he could do considering she was an assassin who hadn’t disavowed the notion that she was going to kill Aeolwyn. She’d had many chances to during their journey but stayed her hand. Why?
The riders took positions on either side of the wagon as they made their way up the main road, known as the Teorton road here to a region known as Eastgate. As they got closer to the fort, the buildings got better. They slowly ceased to be made from whatever items were found scattered around to timber framed buildings. The buildings closest to the fort were made from stone. Whether that was because this section was wealthier or because the fort refused to have any buildings made from flammable materials next to the gate was left unanswered.
The fort itself was a massive stone structure. It was surrounded by a wall 20 feet high. Square towers were placed at 50-yard intervals and on either side of the gatehouse. This was in turn surrounded by a magnificent ditch that could be flooded with water from the Tyr river whenever the opportunity presented itself. A wooden bridge spanned the ditch and led to a barbican; a short hallway that was between two gatehouses. The outer gate was left open, but the inner gate was closed.
Sentries stood on either side of the outer gate with more manning the walls of the barbican. As the wagon passed through, Aeolwyn saw the men standing above him ready to fire their arrows down. Word was sent and the inner doors slowly opened.
The courtyard of the fort was as filled with activity as the slums of the Foregate, with some soldiers working on sword forms and formations, while blacksmiths worked in outbuildings next to the walls. Across the yard was a stable where men were tending to horses.
In the middle of the yard was a tall, square keep made of stone. Towers rose from the four corners of the keep and ended parapets that reached for the sky. Crenellations ran all along the top of the walls and arrowslits peaked out from the towers and at various locations along the keep’s walls.
There was no door at ground level. Instead, a wooden staircase led to a small set of doors higher up. At this level there was a balcony that surrounded the entire length of the keep. Sentries armed with bows were posted at various locations across the balcony.
As soon as the wagon had cleared the gate, the doors were shut and one of the soldiers, grabbed Aeolwyn and lifted him easily off the wagon. In another world that man could have been killed for laying his hands on a prince, but this was not the palace.
Aeolwyn protested the treatment, but didn’t push the issue further. The soldier just replied with a, “Sorry, milord, but the general wants to see you.”
He was led across the courtyard, up the wooden stairs and into the keep. They took one of the rounded stairwells up to a higher level and down a hallway to a room that faced the river. The furnishings in the room were spartan. A stout wood desk dominated, with a simple bookshelf on one side. Iron lanterns were mounted on three sides of the room with a large fireplace dominated the last wall.
Seated at the desk was General Alaric, examining some papers with a quill in his hand. He barely glanced up when he saw Aeolwyn and motioned for him to sit.
“Thank you, captain,” he said. “You may go.”
The captain who brought him exited without a word and closed the door behind him. Alaric continued with his papers for a while, leaving Aeolwyn to sit in silence. He looked around at the surroundings, and, not finding anything of interest, could only stare out at the river. The wall continued around to the river, and from his vantage point went right up to the water’s edge. There was a small gate near the middle of the water side where a boat was docked.
Finally, Alaric put his quill down and looked at Aeolwyn. He studied the prince’s face and arms, and dirty, bloodied doublet. Aeolwyn shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
“You look like you need a bath and a shave,” Alaric said.
A shave? Aeolwyn had never needed to shave before. Maybe Alaric was just being nice and letting Aeolwyn pretend that he was a real soldier who had just come back from a long and grueling mission.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Still, I’m glad to see you well, your highness. You gave us all quite a start. Can you tell us what happened?”
“The bandits came after me,” he said. “Galafar and Egnever came to help me. When he thought I was in danger, Egnever cast a Recall spell to get us to a safe space. The spell didn’t work correctly, and we ended up somewhere in Wickshire.”
“Ah, so it was him who cast the spell. Good. Continue.”
Aeolwyn continued, telling him the whole story about their adventures, including Fraius’ attack and finding the Shielder ruins. He chose to leave out the soothsayer and Reiva’s attempted assassination. He explained what had happened to Egnever and how Fraius was a member of the Star Children.
Alaric said nothing during Aeolwyn’s explanation, unless it was to clarify a point; he just let Aeolwyn tell the story at his own pace and accepted his words as the truth. He smiled during Aeolwyn’s description of the combat, which he was particularly interested in. It was there he asked the most questions, including Aeolwyn’s tactics when he was outnumbered and what he thought he could do better if he were faced with the same situation again.
When the tale was finished, Alaric had smoked a pipe, ordered another pitcher of wine to be brought, and had to ask for Aeolwyn to pause for a moment while he visited the garderobe. When the general returned, he sat in silence and wrote some things down before pulling out another sheet of paper. This one with the ribbon and seal of his father, the king.
“Well, your valor shows you are deserving, but I still have my doubts. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t. This is much too soon.”
He handed the note over. It was only a few lines of text, not written in the king’s own hand, but was sealed with his seal. It wasn’t his signature, either, though it bore a passing similarity. It read:
General Alaric,
I have conferred with Lord-General Harmin and we have decided that it is proper to promote my son Aeolwyn to corporal upon his arrival, and for him to be given a squad of soldiers to command.
The ink was messy where it was signed, as though the signatory had taken too much time and too much ink had run from the pen onto the paper.
A promotion for him already? He couldn’t believe that. Aeolwyn had never heard of such a thing. Sir Jom always told him that a soldier had to work his way up the ranks. He had to prove himself to his superiors before being promoted to anything.
“I guess my father has more faith in me than you,” he said.
“It has nothing to do with faith, son,” Alaric replied. “It’s about experience. You have skill and knowledge from your time with Sir Jom, but that is useless without practical experience. Your adventures in the wilderness have given you some, but not enough.”
Aeolwyn shrugged. “You sound like Sir Jom.” The general could have been parroting his mentor word-for-word. “I will do my best, general,” he said.
“That won’t be enough. I am going to put some more experienced soldiers under your command, and I insist that you take their advice. As easily as this promotion has been given, it can be taken. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Aeolwyn answered.
“Good. Now tell me about the woman you arrived with. She has the stink of an assassin all over her, yet I noticed you left her out of your report.”
Aeolwn sighed. He couldn’t lie to the general. He was going to find out about her one way or another. He would just have to do his best to protect her.
“She is an assassin,” Aeolwyn admitted. “Hired to kill me, though she hasn’t said by whom. But she didn’t do it! She protected me from Fraius and the bandits! She’s a good person, I can feel it. General, please go easy on her!”
The general’s face went from surprise to shock when Aeolwyn made his explanation.
“You want me to go easy on someone sent to kill you?” he asked. “Someone who won’t admit who sent her? Boy, you have more enemies than you know. Not just the Star Children or whatever enemies you have made in your life, but your father’s as well. His enemies will go after you to get to him. You must be smarter. It was dangerous to bring this woman with you. You should have killed her on the spot.”
“Please, general. Don’t hurt her.”
He was right, of course. But the general didn’t know Reiva the way he did. She saved his life, more than once. But did he trust her too much? He thought maybe he did.
“I will promise that she won’t be put to the question,” the general said. “But you must hand her over. If she abandons her quest to assassinate you and reveals who hired her, maybe she will be released. But if she doesn’t? Well, we have ways of dealing with assassins.”
He meant execution. Aeolwyn wasn’t sure if he could bear the thought of Reiva facing the headsman’s block. She wouldn’t, of course. A simple assassin would be hanged.
“You have to harden your heart, son,” Alaric said. “You are going to be faced with a lot of tough decisions in your life, and you will need to make them without mercy. Too soft of a heart will get you killed.”
Was everyone in his life going to give him advice? He didn’t want to have a hard heart. His mother always said hard hearts killed the world. He didn’t want to kill the world. He wanted to save it!
“Now go. I’ll have the woman sent to your quarters so you can say your goodbyes.”
***
A soldier was waiting to escort Aeolwyn to his quarters. One of the benefits of rank was that he didn’t have to sleep in the barracks with the rest of the common soldiers. He was shown to a room near the stables where the cavalry barracks were.
The cavalry barracks were long stone buildings near the southern gate. They consisted of several large rooms fitted with a series of bunks where the members of the cavalry slept. The commanders, like him, got a room beside the barracks. Unlike the senior officers, his quarters were against the wall with no window and little ventilation.
The room was as spartan as the General’s office. He had a bed in one corner, a small desk, and a little cabinet that he could use for his clothes and whatever other items he wanted to store there. He was ready to settle down for a nap when his door banged open and Reiva barged in.
She dropped a lifeless head on his desk. It rolled around a bit until the scarred, sunbaked face with empty eyes stared back at him. Aeolwyn instinctively recoiled from the grisly trophy.
“Why have you brought me a dead man’s head?” he asked.
“That man was sent to kill me because I didn’t kill you. He attacked me just after I exited the stables.”
“You killed a soldier?” That was not good. If she had killed a soldier, there was nothing Aeolwyn could do to protect her. She would be off to the gallows tomorrow.
“No, he snuck through the gate behind us. I don’t know how the guards didn’t see him.” She said. “Well, they did see him when he attacked me, but not one bothered to get up off their arse to help.”
“Who is it?” Aeolwyn asked.
“No idea, but I’m guessing he followed the army out of Teorton.”
That made sense he supposed. Whoever had hired her had sent this man to make sure the job was done and done properly. Although maybe he was sent for more than that. Perhaps this man would have tried to kill him also.
“I guess I’ve been fired,” she said.
“Even if you had succeeded, this man would have tried to kill you,” Aeolwyn said. “I’m a high-value target. Can’t have a witness to reveal who had sent them.”
She turned his sole chair to face the bed and sat down in it. Leaning forward in the chair, she looked directly at him. He tried not to shy away from her gaze, but the intensity of her stare intimidated him.
“His name was Aylonzo.”
“Who? The head?” he asked, suddenly alarmed.
“No,” she replied. “The man who hired me.”
“Aylonzo? Are you sure?”
This was not good. There was only one person he knew who used the name Aylonzo. He had been a member of the royal household. He was a servant in the palace. All of the princes and princesses had loved him like a grandfather. He always had a bit of candy and some gossip for them when they crossed paths. But he had been dead for many years.
“That was the name he used,” she said.
Someone in the palace wanted him dead and was masquerading as Aylonzo. That was the only explanation. Who? Who in the palace would have wanted him dead? Sir Jom? He dismissed that thought as soon as it came to mind. Sir Jom was a loyal teacher.
He wouldn’t put it past Lord Smyton. That wart-faced man hated all of the king’s children. But he was loyal to the king. There was no way he would dare put himself at risk like that.
But what of Rurik’s father? Lord Asconce had both the means and the motive. He was known as an angry vengeful man. He would be capable of anything, including regicide if his son was killed. Not only was he capable of it, but he would also see it as quite fitting to kill the king’s son in revenge for the death of his own. It had to be him. He had known Aylonzo and didn’t like how soft he had been on the royal family.
“Reiva,” Aeolwyn started and stopped. He wasn’t sure how to tell her.
“I am to be arrested. I know,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I tried to protect you.”
She shrugged, picking the head up off the table and stuffing it into a bag. “It won’t be the first prison cell I’ve been in.”
“The general promised that they won’t torture you. That was the best I could do.” He suddenly felt like crying. He fought the feeling back before the tears came. He didn’t want her to see him cry.
She held the head up and shook it. “Now that my employer has terminated my contract, I have no reason not to sing, she said.”
She turned towards the door before stopping and looking back.
“That also means I’m available,” she said, winking. She slung the head over her shoulder and walked out, closing the door behind her. He thought he could hear her whistling as she made her way down the hall.
Strange woman. Beautiful, and strong. If he could secure her release, he would hire her as his bodyguard in an instant. Hopefully she would sing like a crill bird in winter. He knew he would.