The sun had set somewhere beyond the Aden Hills to the west, and yet some beams of light coloured their snow-clad tops with tones of red and gold. The cold breeze, sweeping the meadow’s icy dust, blew ever fiercer from the north. Edwald had his eyes nigh closed due to the wind, and might be because of this that whenever he turned his sight backwards, he could not see that he was being followed. Perhaps it was neither the wintry gale nor the snow what shrouded his sight, but rather a strife within his own mind. For most of his life, he had had Asadue by his side, so his counscience might have began to take a toll now that he was not.
At any rate he galloped forwards to the north and his mount raged on without weariness though it looked very old. Its hooves' trot against the snow was almost as loud as the roll of drums, yet even after a while that sound too was dwarfed by another far more piercing still. Like the shriek of hawk or the scream of a fox, he heard a whisper in the air, coming from the south, and his ears remembered to have heard it before. Three times that ominous shriek boomed throughout the land, each time softer than the last. Any other man would have guessed that wherever-from the whistle came, the decline of its rhythm surely meant that whatever thing produced that sound could only be moving away from his path. Edwald knew, however, what the whistles truly meant, and as deer running away from a hunter, he hastened the race north.
‘The Night Ernes are upon me’, he most certainly must have thought and to add to his fears, soon enough, he heard the trot of another horse. This once, he did not dare to turn back his eyes, and like a child fleeing from the dark, he sped up the pace of his ride. He heard its iron heels throbbing sharply on the ground, its hurrying neigh closing in from behind and then a voice followed from a few yards apart.
-“Halt… Halt in the name of his lordship!” the voice was sore but loud, as if coming from a large man.
Edwald’s horse was of noble pedigree—the swiftest stock of the kind—yet after so many hours of tiring sprint, it finally succumbed to fatigue. The stranger rode a sturdy, young cob with enough stamina for a many-leagued jaunt, so as Edwald lost momentum, the stranger gained it.
However fast the stranger’s mount was, now that it was so nigh him, he recognised he rode alone. Edwald was afraid but also glad, for though against all thirteen of their throng he would have failed, against only one of them he most certainly would avail.
When the moment came that his horse tired at last, Edwald turned on his back and to a baffling relief, he discovered the stranger was not one of those demons in black he had met in the past; instead it was a man of the watch, wearing the colours of the city of Cadar.
-“Lord Elbracht, I have orders to get you escort you back to Myrlost.” the man said.
-“You are that monster-face, aren’t you?” Edwald was surprised to say those words aloud, for though he always considered himself polite, the sword compelled him to say what was in his mind.
-“The name is Hans.” he replied, “You were a guest to Lord Tyén. How could you abuse the kindness of such an honourable host?”
-“Lord Tyén and I did not see eye to eye.” Edwald said back, “I have a quest at hand and I feared he would only try to dissuade me from going down my path.”
-“Lord Tyén is a wise man.” Hans said, “I am sure he must have had his reasons to disagree with you. But only a coward would escape his hospitality rather than argue with him.”
-“Coward you say?” Edwald said enraged, “I do not need to remind you that I am a Lord of the Realm. I shall not be insulted by one of such low birth!”
-“I always took lords for gentlemen,” Hans said coldly, “But there is little honour in what you’ve done yesterday. A true lord would have heard out what Lord Tyén had to say, still you chose to turn a deaf ear, instead. But, enough of this blether! You are coming with me, or else I’ll force you.”
As he finished his threat, Edwald heard the whistle once again, coming from the south; the shriek of a hawk, this time soft as a distant bell.
-“We cannot go back that way.” he tried to warn him. “Did you not hear that just now?”
-“‘Tis only a hawk; no need to fright. There are quite a few of them in these parts. At any rate, my master wants you back in Cadar, and I will deliver.” Hans said, pulling out half the blade of his sword.
-“I have no wish to fight you.” Edwald said, doing the same with Oakenjaw.
-“Neither have I,” Hans replied, “But I made a vow to my lord. So, I will do what I must.”
Still on his horse, Edwald drew out the whole of his sword. Master Hans did likewise. The guard made use of his horse’s vigour and looped about Edwald, swinging his blade right and left. Steel met with steel, and though Edwald never doubted the might of Oakenjaw, its witchcraft was of no use against Master Hans’ moves. He fought honourably and without deceit. Every blow, parry and comeback was foreseeable. Edwald felt a genuine fear that one so true and able with the sword would subdue the powers of his own.
Shortly amidst bangs of the clash, Edwald heard that dreadful, whistling sound one more time. A shiver rolled down his spine, for what was once the scream of a hawk, now was subtle like a lark’s song.
-“They come from the south!” He exclaimed as his sword parried Hans’. “We must flee to the north before they catch us bothered in this needless brawl.”
-“Ney, to the south we go, even if I have to drag you thither wounded and numb.” Hans replied as he stressed his blade against Oakenjaw.
-“Don’t you know the Night Ernes?” Edwald asked deflecting a following blow. “That subtle noise should have us warned that they are coming for us both.”
Edwald lowered his guard, and Hans took advantage by striking the legs of his horse. The old steed of noble stock sprung aback and Edwald fell on the snow. The young Hans threatened Edwald with the point of his sword and behind the helmet Edwald could see the shadow of a smirk.
-“Bedtime tales do not frighten me at all.” Hans said victorious, “The Night Ernes are long gone. They are only a myth we agree to tell the young, when they’ve disrespected the adults.
“Hush, thou child spoiled,
Learn to fear what the old have taught.…
“In the dark of night, where shadow dwells,
The Night Ernes ride, so the old man tells,
Of children who in mischief strayed,
And lessons learned from choices made.
“Their distant cry, like a hawk's sharp scream,
Awakens fears from a fitful dream,
As they draw near, like a softened bell,
An omen they bring, a warning to tell.
“Heed, thou, the tale of the Night Ernes' flight,
As they soar through the moon's pale-blue light,
For when you disobey and wander afar,
Their cries grow louder, like a distant clang.
“So, child my dear, remember this plea,
Obey your parents, and you'll be free,
From the Night Ernes' haunting cries,
Guided by love, under starry skies.”
Those words were meant to scare and scared was Hans as well, for it seemed to him that he had conjured a spell which invoked those wicked feins out from children tales. Like drums of steel, the stride of a mounted throng they heard, the night was mantled with a darker veil, and the winds blew bolder still with a smell of terror. They looked behind and to what they saw, they quailed. Thirteen black-clad riders galloped their way, their horses neighed a song of death, and they drew out their steel as they strode. Riderless, Edwald’s steed felt the threat before it came, and powered by an animal instinct of dread, it run away from them.
-“Not much of a child’s tale, is it?” Edwald said standing on his feet again. “Get behind me, I shall fight them myself.”
-“Ney, I must deliver you alive to Lord Tyén.” Hans said putting a front on his horse. He lifted his sword and prepared to face the child’s tale all on his own.
It is important to note that up to this point, the Night Ernes mistook Edwald as the heir of the Sovarós. He bore the semblance of a Lord of Fyore; the woods-green eyes and the griffin’s golden head, but they were purposefully misled by Sir Frann the Turncloak as he betrayed the fellowship. Thence, it is safe to assume that when they met him that day, they still believed him to be Sir Antuel, Lord Hadril’s heir.
The thirteen devils halted before the two men, and from among the throng, a souring, shadow-clad captain forth stepped and with a sore, deep voice he said unto them:
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-“Give us the heir!” he exclaimed, “The Lord of Fyore wants him dead.”
-“Here, there is no heir.” Hans valiantly replied, knowing not whereof they spoke, “And the Lord of Myrlost wants this man alive.”
-“Then you leave us no choice, but to slay you along with him.” The captain waved his sword at him, and his minions surrounded them from east and west and north.
All the while, Edwald did not watch idle; he took his sword and shield aloft, and back to back, one on horse the other on foot, he and Master Hans stood ready for the onslaught. Thirteen blood-thirsty blades they saw, and as they closed into the circle’s core each and all, the two men parried their blows. Edwald swung Oakenjaw to and fro and with his shield every strike he blocked. They came from the left, then from the right, but none could defeat his prodigious sleight.
Master Hans had it harder, for though, he was still on horseback, he did not fight to stay alive, but rather to protect Edwald from harm. He spun about deflecting blows were not aimed straight at him, but rather at the man behind.
The clashed went on for a testing while, yet thirteen blades were too much for two, and thus it happened that the Night Ernes outmaneuvered his counterattacks and slashed Edwald in the shoulders and back. Shortly thereafter, Hans pulled Edwald onto his horse and doing little else than block with his shield, he marvelled at the might of his defender.
Master Hans was more than able with the sword. Though every strike was fiercer than the last, he stood his ground unyielding. His dexterity at arms was compared to none, safe perhaps the one by whose same name was called. Under a new light, Edwald saw in him the soul of Sir Hans, reborned.
Upon the hour, the fight’s tide was turned at last and three of those fiends met their end by the young guard’s brand, and then another four fell slain likewise. Yet a mighty blow was aimed at his head, but the sword was fixed on his helm and when pulled out again it also unmasked his hideous face. Then the Night Ernes knew they were fighting no ordinary man, but rather a beast of adept hand. Whatever dread the two men had possessed at the clash’s start, was now shifted into their enemies’ hearts.
-“A monster!” the captain cried in fright, and fearing for their lives, they quickly turned their ride away from the ‘Monster-man’.
-“They stuff of children tale, they say…” He could not withhold a laugh. But his joy turned to stress, when he heard the painful moan of the southern man.
-“Lord Elbracht, are you alright?” He said turning back on Edwald.
-“‘Tis nothing to worry about.” He said, “Those wicked feins have left me new marks and opened old wounds blotted by Sir Frann.”
-“You need a healer. So we’ll ride south.” Hans said, “In Cadar you’ll be given proper care; Lord Tyén will not deny you that.”
He turned his aim to the south, but as if the fates spoke against that goal, thence a chilly gale was blown and like iron claws stretching towards them from above, clouds gathered into a storm.
-“We cannot go that way,” Edwald said, “We must go north before the storm catches us.”
Master Hans looked south and saw the peril which he warned. The Night Ernes had also gone that way, and though against them he proved himself the better sword, he had wasted most of his strengths and feared that another fight would likely see him fail.
-“We’ll have it your way,” He said, “But only this time. We’ll find shelter and I’ll tend to your wounds, and once you are healed again, I will deliver you to Lord Tyén.”
He turned his horse to the north-east and cantered forth. Like an echo, the thudding drums and rage-filled blows rang and followed their stride, but the strong cob overtook it. Yet not even their hasty ride could flee from a rain of snow and ice. Sharp as arrows, frozen flakes fell from above and sudden flashes of blue and white served them as a torch in their run.
Master Hans aimed for the road, though he begged the heaven for a shack or hut to shelter in until past the storm.
His prayers were not for naught.
Upon the hour, they descried afore them a forsaken shieling hidden among the rocks of a slope. There, where little proof left that it had ever been a home, the two men and their horse took refuge and indeed it seemed that therein no man had lingered since countless years ago, for inside, there were only naked walls.
-“It’s not much, but at least there is a roof above our heads,” Hans said, although the rotten, wooden roof had many holes through which it filtered snow. “Let’s have a look at your wounds.”
Edwald lay down on the cold, bare ground and shortly the snow-strewn floor was tainted with his blood.
-“It doesn’t look so good, I am afraid.” Hans said.
-“I’ve had it worse,” Edwald replied. “I have many scars to prove it.”
-“So I’ve heard. They say, you went through a lot on your journey to Myrlost.” Hans said. “How did you manage on your own for so long? What if someone got hurt? Was there no healer in among your party?”
-“I had my mentor, Asadue. He was the leader of your group.” Edwald replied with visable regret.
-“The outlander you mean?” Hans asked doubtfully. “I didn’t know slaves had a mind for sick-healing.”
-“He is not a slave.” Edwald rued to have ever called him so. “He is a free man, he did not follow me out of fear, but love.”
-“Forgive me, I thought…” Hans said as he looked about for timber to light a fire.
-“‘Tis alright, he is deemed as such by most.” Edwald said. “My mentor… he has lived with that scar for most of his life, and yet despite his status, there are many men without that staint who are worth half as much as my mentor. In truth, I think I might have become one of such men. I have not been very nice towards him of late.
“He is all my father never was. Where my father was cruel and cold, Asadue was always tender and warm. He went far beyond his duties as a tutor, for he did not only sharped and shaped me in matters of the mind, he also taught me much in those of the soul and heart. He filled my dreams with tales from far off lands, myths and legends of heroes of a bygone time. He schooled me in the arts of thoughts and broadened my grip on the affairs of man; statesmanship, the sciences and the histories and even warcraft.
“But he also showed me the pain and hardships of a slave’s life and the true cost that comes from a lifetime fearing the scourge, and in doing so, showed me the real value of what it means to be free. So upon ascending my father’s throne, I outlawed thraldom all throughout Harador.”
-“I’ve heard, they call you the Liberator.” Hans said gathering the remains of fallen roof in the middle of the room.
-“A liberator would not call a free-made slave by their former name.” Edwald said wiping away a tear. “But men are not only cruel towards slaves, they also despise those burn cursed. How come you were made a guard? Given your unlucky birth, I take it must have been hard.”
Master Hans removed his helmet as soon as he lit the fire. He had not dare to show his face since Lord Tyén mistook him for Edwald, and when he did again Edwald saw in him an immediate regret.
-“My story is not a nice tale to tell.” He said “I was born to a humble family, in Tharlos*(1). My father was a fisherman and he did not care much for me, he told my mother she should get rid of me. He thought it’d be best for me to die before I grew into a wretched beast. But she couldn’t find it with herself to make such a monstrous deed. In all my life, she was the only woman to ever be kind to me, and she raised me as if there was nothing wrong with me. She saw beyond my blemished scars and found within me a son that loved her back.
“But it wasn’t her duty to raise a man; she always said that was a father’s task. So as I grew of age, she would force my father to take me with him out into the sea. I always did as I was bid, yet no matter how hard I tried, every day he’d find a new reason to punish me. ‘This not is poorly tied; you threw out the rod in the wrong spot.’ he would say and day after day, in his eyes, I always failed.
“There came harder times for fishermen, fish ran short by those days, and far from keeping our savings, my father drowned his sorrows with ale instead. One night he came back drunk home and though my mother tried to take good care of him, he took the chance to rage upon her all the ways she had failed him as a wife. He took a stock and began to beat my mother with it until she bled. She came out of the house, her linen garbs stained with red. My father went out as well and he kept on beating her down with words and cane, all to my face. ‘You should have killed the lad when I told you so, but you didn’t obey’.
“My mother cried for help and I couldn’t just stand there and watch as the woman who birthed me was being thrashed by her own husband, none less. So, I picked up a race and like children playing with wooden blades, I fought with him and outmashed though at the time I was twelve.
“As he laid on the ground, he looked at me with dread, and after so much hate I had mustered towards him, I swear I was about to kill him. But my mother’s cry did not go unheard, there were men of the watch who had caught her wail and they rushed in haste to her call and they found both my mother and father lying on the ground, and me with a rake in hand—it did not look good for me.
“My father was first to catch sight of them, ‘the Beast! Take him! He took the rake and thrashed us down with it!” The coward said, and though my mother tried to no avail to sway them, the guards took me in anyway. I was thrown into a jail, where I was left to rot into an early grave. But against all odds, my spirit did not break.
“It came a day as I grew ripe of age, when I was sent to Vulture’s Fall*(2) in the south of the Mirn. There I was forced to labour to stone from dawn to dusk, night and day, until a time came when there was trouble in the quarry. Some young lad didn’t know how to use his pickaxe and hurt the wrong man. He was twice his size and had some renown as a troublemaker. He threatened the lad with his life, and something called me to get defend him. Soon enough, the tall man’s gang surrounded me and before I could my words, I was forced to use the hand. We started a fight and when the guards intervened, both the tall man and his gaggle were laying numb on the ground.
“When I explained the mishap, far from getting scourged or punished, the captain of the guard saw some worth in me and asked if I wanted to train for becoming a guard myself, after a month I joined the watch.” he said, as he placed his sword in the fire’s flames. “I always had a good hand with any stock, be it sword, pickaxe or rake, but whenever I trained, I got the feeling that my scars took the better of my foe’s blade, thence they call me Monster-face, and I always wear a helm to hide my shame.”
-“How did you end up in Cadar?” Edwald asked.
-“There was shortage of men in the city watch, so thither I was dispatched.”
-“Cadar is not a long way from Tharlos.” Edwald said and then he asked, “Did you not take the chance to visit your parents there?”
-“Aye, I went back home one more time, not long ago.” He replied, “But it wasn’t my mother who got the door. It was my father. He saw me wearing the garbs of guard, armed with a sword and shield and a helm over my head. He did not put a name to me right away. By the looks of him, he seemed as if he had done something wrong. But then I showed my face and as we looked deep within each other’s eyes, I said:
-‘Where is my mother?’ He did not say. He stared at me as if he had seen a wraith and when I asked again, tears came out of him and falling on his knees he told me darkest news my ears had ever listened to.
-‘Your mother is dead’ he said, ‘she took her own life weeks after the guards took you away. Forgive me, child. I have been too blind. Had I not been so cruel to you, your mother would be alive now.’
“I left on a rage that day, and I’ve never dare to go back again since then.”
-“I am sorry for your loss.” Edwald said meaning every word. “Why didn’t you finish the job and kill your father as you wished to do before?”
-“I do not know.” Hans replied unsure, “Maybe because in the watch I am have something to live for—it would not have been good for me to have my hands tainted with my father’s blood right after I swore my oath. But perhaps it was because for the first time in my life, I pittied him. At any rate, I did not wish to stain my mother’s memory with having a true beast-son like so many had her told. I now believe it was the will of the Gods that I should have returned home, for though my father was not devoid of fault, there was truth in what he spoke. I may not have forgived him for all the pains he let me endure, yet I think he is no longer the same man I had known.”
Edwald saw the wisdom in his words and for a moment forgot his own struggle. Like Hans’ father, he too had mistreated the man who for most of his life had only been a friend and a mentor, and now that only thing that truly was in his heart was the wish to make right the wrongs he had done unto Asadue.
-“Once the storm has passed, I will ride with you back to Cadar.” Edwald said. “I may have a deadly quest at hand, but I cannot leave Asadue in Myrlost knowing that I had been cruel to him. He might not forgive me, but I must tell him that I am sorry for all that has come to pass.”
-“Then let us right the wrongs, so the wounds of our mind can scar at last.” Hans said upon picking up his vivid blade, and holding tightly Edwald’s arm, he scorched the wounds closed.