Posted: 2003-01-27 09:27pm
by Keevan_Colton
Prolouge : An End?
Its was dark, torches flickered around the clearing, men in steel armour stood torches in their left hands swords in their right. Inside the circle stood a lone figure, more than seven feet tall, hunched over in the light vegetation, snow had come early?white and red bathed the ground around the tall figure. He had been wounded and now he was surrounded, they had killed his brothers?a pale blue glow pulsed from the stone in the amulet round his neck. Renewed strength flowed into his limbs. Throwing back his head he howled his rage and charged. Startled for a moment the armoured men responded, closing swiftly around him, a ring of shining steel surrounding the beast. They hacked and slashed at him and he responded in kind. With one almighty swing he decapitated the leader of his armoured opponents. At the same moment one of them plunged a sword into his back, through his heart. With the mortal blow he fell to the ground, the blade of the sword embedding deep into the ground. The men moved back as he writhed, his life flowing out onto the ground.
The men gathered their weapons, laying kindling round the corpse, lighting a pyre to destroy all remnants of the beast they had fought?a black and scorched ring marked the ground, the only reminder of the last of a kind. A small piece of silver glistened in the centre of the ring missed by all?
Posted: 2003-01-27 09:29pm
by Keevan_Colton
Chapter One
Coming of Age
Jarl was poor, he had always been poor, at last though he felt his luck was changing. He had found a silver amulet in the woods near his house when he had been out hunting. It was beautiful piece, a silver wolfs head with a blue stone set underneath, it looked so real. He tried to decide how much it was worth, but he had little knowledge of jewellery having never possessed any before.
He walked on towards Galam the main town in the duchy. Perched high above it was the duke's palace, although fortress might well have been a more apt description. It housed a large garrison of the kings' men; Galam was the northern most duchy nearest to the barbarian hordes in the northern wastes. It was a heavily forested area with many mounted patrols always out searching for any barbarian threats to the Southland's. One of these patrols rode out past Jarl as he approached the edge of the town. They were all mounted on grey stallions and wore armour with red heraldry marking them as the kings' lancers. They pointedly ignored Jarl as they passed out, a simple peasant well beneath their notice. Only nobles could join the lancers. Jarl bowed as they passed as befit his station, he knew if he did not then they might well make an example of him.
Onward he continued, inside the town he made his way towards the area where most of the merchants peddled their wares. He quite quickly found the silversmith Tomas Sylvian a tall thin man with pale skin and fair hair. He was renowned as one of the finest jewellers in the land, he frowned as Jarl approached him. Jarl was dressed in slightly ragged clothing of hide and leather, looking every bit the poor woodsman he was.
Jarl bowed slightly and began hesitantly, "Sir?I?I wondered if you might purchase this thing I found."
He held out the amulet for the others inspection. Tomas almost gasped at the beauty of the piece, it was of greater quality than anything he himself had ever made. He knew that he had to have the piece.
"May I take a closer look?" he asked Jarl.
"Of course sir," Jarl replied bowing again.
Tomas took the amulet off of him and looked carefully searching for the mark of the smith that had made it. All he could find was a small paw print with an arrow in it, not the mark of any smith in the kingdom. He frowned; he did not like the fact this piece was better than most he had made.
He turned to Jarl, "I will give you a silver piece for this."
It was now Jarl's turn to frown, even with the little knowledge he had he could tell the amulet was worth more than that.
"Will you not give me more?"
Tomas looked at him for a moment, "Very well then, three silver pieces, not a penny more though."
Jarl considered it for a moment and nodded.
"Okay, three silver pieces."
Tomas opened his purse and removed three bright shining coins and laid them into Jarl's hand.
As Jarl walked away down the street Tomas could barely keep from laughing, the amulet was worth a small fortune and now it was his for a pittance. He went back inside his store smiling to himself and settled down to work at his craft studying the amulet.
Walt approached the shop of Tomas the silversmith. Walt was not overly tall, although by no means was he short, he wore his dark hair cut short and a short trimmed beard decorated his face. At his side was a cut and thrust sword in a scabbard of blue and black. He had been sent by the duke to purchase a small piece of jewellery for his godson who's coming of age would be tomorrow. It was tradition that on his coming of age a young noble would receive a gift from his godfather, who was also responsible for training in the arts of combat. A token to remind the young man of all that had been learned and all that remained to be learned. Walt entered the shop and knocked on the inside of the door. Tomas came forth after a moment, clearly a little irritated holding the amulet he had purchased earlier in one hand.
Walt smiled, but it was not a warm sight, "Greetings Tomas, it has been quite a while has it not?"
Tomas after a pause adopted a cold smile of his own, "It has indeed?how are you?"
"Good, the duke has sent me on an errand?" as Walt spoke his gaze drifted to the amulet, dangling by its chain in Tomas's hand.
"What errand might that be? I am up to date with my taxes."
"I'm here to purchase a present?that amulet there would do just nicely."
"I'm afraid its not for sale," Tomas responded.
Walt chuckled slightly, "I think it is?would it not be unfortunate if the duke decided to say, raise taxes on silver?"
Tomas looked as though he might choke.
He swallowed hard, "Raise taxes on silver, but they are already higher than ever before."
"As I said it would be unfortunate, how much for the amulet Tomas?"
Tomas looked at the amulet still held in his fist. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping it. The sapphire glittered in the light of the shop.
The silversmith closed his eyes, "Five gold crowns Walt."
Walt's cold smile returned once more, "Surely a better price can be found for your duke."
Tomas shook his head, "It will ruin me, but I'll give you it for four."
"Much better."
Walt took a pouch out from around his neck and removed four gold crowns, placing them on the table stout in front of Tomas.
Tomas stared blankly at them for a moment before reluctantly placing the amulet down.
Walt picked it up and turned walking out of the shop, as he cleared the door he called over his shoulder, "A pleasure doing business with you."
With that he set off up the hill towards the ducal palace.
The training area in the palace was a large courtyard. At one end was a set up a line of dummies, black crosses marked them across the location of the heart. At the other end was a large double door leading into the buildings of the palace. A lone figure stood in the centre of the courtyard, dusk starting to gather, the sun setting in the west. The figure was bathed in a pale red glow, in his hand was a long sabre. He had long dark hair tied back behind him. With a flourish he presented his blade and began running through a practice routine. Blocks and counters, one after the other, flowing from one form to the next. The double doors lay behind him, and now one of them opened. A tall man with hair greying at the temples stepped out. He wore a steel breastplate and a red cloak, on his left hand was the signet ring that denoted him as the duke of Galam. The figure with the sword was Logan his godson. The duke stood and watched silently as Logan ran through the forms. He was well aware of the young man's ambition to become the greatest swordsman in the Lancers, a goal that Logan was well along to achieving. Already the master of the sword at the palace was only able to best him half of the time, and the members of the Lancers that had sparred with him had all left with bruised bodies and prides.
Logan moved with a grace that belied the strength in the moves he was doing.
Suddenly he turned to face the duke, "My Lord."
The duke nodded, "Logan, how are you, looking forward to the feast tomorrow?"
Logan smiled, "I am very well. The feast should be a grand affair, but I am looking forward to my first patrol with the Lancers more."
The duke nodded again, "Eager to face the northmen, that?s good."
"I plan to drive them back from our lands."
"If only more of the Lancers had your zeal."
"I will serve the king proudly."
"I know you will Logan, you should go and eat now, all the practising must have given you an appetite."
"I will eat shortly."
"Alright, I will see you tomorrow then," the duke turned and headed back into the palace.
As soon as the door closed Logan turned and resumed his practising.
Slowly the sun rose, the pale glow of dawn engulfed the countryside. Logan looked out of the window of his room in the palace. The view was spectacular, looking out to the east, towards the rising sun. He stood there for a moment appreciating it before turning and dressing. He wore simple black trousers and a black shirt of silk from the east, on to of these he wore a crimson cape. A quiet knock at the door caused him to turn, just before he fastened his sabre to his belt.
"Yes?" He called out to the door as he finished fastening on his sword.
"My lord, I came to wish you well for today's ceremonies." The voice was that of Walt, the dukes steward.
Logan sighed, he had known the man for a long time and he always felt uneasy around him. There was something about him that set Logan on edge.
He opened the door, "Thank you Walt, did my godfather send you?"
Walt looked slightly taken aback, "Why, yes he did?he wanted me to make sure you were ready."
"Tell him that I am ready then."
Walt hesitated for a moment, "I can see you are."
With that he turned and headed off down the corridor.
Logan returned into his room, taking a deep breath, he wished he understood why Walt always made him feel so tense. He rechecked his sword belt and after a moments consideration attached a dagger to the back of his belt. He headed out of his room towards the main hall of the palace.
With a flourish of his cloak Logan entered the hall, it was long with stone pillars set on either side. All along the hall were a selection of minor nobles from around the duchy. At the far end of the hall was dais with a tall chair perched on it. The duke sat there with Walt off to his side and behind like a living shadow. That image stuck in Logan's head as he strode down the hall before kneeling at the foot of the dais.
"I come before you godfather today as a man."
"I see before me a fine young man, but one with much to learn yet. My time for teaching you though has ended."
"Then my time to learn for myself has arrived."
The duke spoke quietly, too low for the nobles arrayed around the hall to hear, "I think Logan, that time came long ago."
He spoke louder now, for the assembled crowd, "Rise then godson."
The duke signalled to Walt who stepped forward bearing a small velvet case.
"I have here for you a gift as is traditional."
Walt opened the velvet case, displaying the amulet inside for all to see. Logan gazed at it transfixed. The small sapphire glittered hypnotically, the duke rose from his chair and took the amulet from the case. Leaning forward he fastened it around Logan's neck.
"Do me proud nephew."
Logan smiled up at the duke, it had been the first time since the death of his parents that the duke had acknowledged him as his nephew.
"I shall uncle."
The duke returned the smile before turning and remounting the throne.
"I declare today to be a day of feasting and revelry."
A small cheer went up from the nobles, although it had the feel of being scripted, as it must have been. The feast had been planned for weeks, nothing here was spontaneous save the quiet words the duke imparted to Logan.
Logan stood and bowed to the duke, he thought he saw something flicker across Walt's face in the background, but dismissed it. The assembled crows of nobles dispersed out of the hall, as Logan turned to leave the Duke spoke.
"Wait a moment Logan."
Logan waited as the duke stood and came to stand with him.
"As you well know I have no children of my own, no heirs. You my sisters son are my sole living relative, now that you have come of age I am naming you as my heir."
Logan was for a moment speechless, "My Lord, I am honoured?are you sure you wish me as your heir?"
"I am certain, you are the closest I have to a son."
"Well, then I shall accept this honour."
"Good, go an enjoy yourself now, make the most of today."
Logan walked away from the duke towards the door of the hall, as he left he could hear Walt talking quietly but heatedly. Ignoring it he carried on out into the corridor.
Logan stood for a moment at the massive gates leading out of the palace down towards the town. He looked out over it, the rooftops, some slate, some thatch and the small wisps of smoke that rose into the spring sky from the forges and smiths workshops. It would be a good few hours yet to the feast and that time was his own to spend as he wished. Carefully he studied, it looked as though most of the forges were in one area. With purpose in his strides he set out towards this area of the town.
Logan strode into the first of the four forges on the street looking round at the range of items on display in the shop.
The shop was fairly dark and most of the items on display were of an agricultural nature, a few axes and scythes as well as a wide selection of knives. In one corner though were a small number of weapons, a pair of daggers and a handful of swords.
The smith looked up, taking in Logan's appearance, clearly that of a noble.
In a gruff voice he spoke, "My Lord."
"May I take a look at your swords?" Logan asked.
"If you wish," after a moment he added, "My Lord."
Logan went over to the three swords in the corner, one was a short sword with a broad blade, a relic of past designs. The other two were classic cavalry sabres much like the one belted to his side.
He disregarded the short sword and looked carefully at the sabres, both seemed to be of reasonable quality. Lifting the first he tried the balance, while it looked a good piece it was blade heavy, too unwieldy for combat. He sat it down and looked at the other, lifting it. It was flawed in the same way. He carefully replaced them both as they had been before.
Logan turned to the smith, "I'm afraid the balance on both those sabres is no good."
The smith nodded, "I know, and it seems you know your swords better than most nobles."
Logan could not resist a smile, "I do."
"I may have a sword?or rather a pair that might suit you. I keep them through the back, I wouldn?t want to sell them to someone that wouldn?t appreciate them."
"Oh? What sort of swords are they?"
"I bought them from a merchant a long while back, he said they were from the East?although I am not so sure. Let me fetch them."
With that the smith stood up, a mountain of a man very broad at the shoulders. He turned and vanished into the back of the building behind a partition. Logan could hear something heavy being moved. After a moment the smith returned with a bundle of oiled leather, laying it reverently on the worktop.
Logan looked on with interest as the smith slowly unwrapped the bundle. Inside were a pair of deeply curved swords, blades wider at the end, each with a single handed grip and an s-shaped guard for the hand.
Logan looked at them carefully; he had not seen any sword like them in Galam.
He glanced at the smith, "May I?"
"Of course."
Gingerly Logan lifted one of the blades, despite its appearance it was amazingly well balanced and light. He twirled the blade round in his hand, feeling it move perfectly in tune with him. It had a natural elegance to it that he could not help but fall for. He picked up the twin of the sword he already held; it was exactly the same as the other, balance and weight perfect. He gazed at the weapons in his hands.
"These are masterpieces." Logan stated simply.
"They are that lad."
Logan was so caught in the beauty of the swords he missed the small slight the smith had let slip.
"How much for them?" Logan asked at last.
"Twenty gold crowns for both of them."
Logan appeared torn, "I have only ten gold crowns on me?that and my own sword and dagger. Would you accept them?"
The smith looked at Logan's sword with an appraising eye.
"Alright lad, but I'm loosing on the deal."
Logan smiled and took his sword from his belt and laid it out on the table and took the dagger from behind his back, placing it on the table next to the sword. He took a pouch from beneath his cape and laid it on the table, opening it to make clear the ten golden coins that lay within.
"I'll throw in a pair of leather scabbards for them as well since I like you lad. I feel you'll take proper care of these blades like they deserve."
The smith gathered the sabre and the dagger along with the purse, taking them through the back. After a few long moments and many sounds of rustling and searching he returned with two leather scabbards as promised. Carefully he sheathed the twin blades before handing them to Logan.
"Take good care of them."
"I shall, thank you."
Logan, attached the scabbards to either side of his belt and left the shop, very happy with his purchase.
Slowly the day drew to its close, as the sun drifted below the horizon torches flared all around the palace, lighting it in the night like a beacon. It was an impressive sight. The palace lit up and nobles making their way to the palace for the dukes feast. It promised to be a great night of revelry. The guests poured into the palace.
In a dark corner near the banquet hall two figures met in the shadows. Both were nearly obscured from view and no one else was to be seen anywhere nearby.
"It is arranged then?" asked the taller of the two.
"Yes, the fool has named him his heir?we will have to move forward and deal with him."
The taller murmured his agreement, sounding a little reluctant.
"It is necessary, it must be done." The shorter reaffirmed.
The taller nodded and slipped off in the shadows, heading away and the shorter slipped into the banquet hall itself.
Logan sat at the dukes right in the hall as the guests all took their seats. The duke stood and raised his glass in a salute to those present.
"Welcome my friends and fellows, this is a great occasion for celebration here, not only is it the coming of age of my nephew Logan, but it is also the day I have named my heir. My nephew Logan will serve as my heir."
A number of the nobles clapped quietly, a couple smiled over at Logan. One or two frowned slightly in his direction. Logan assumed that they were others with strong claims on rulership of the duchy, he could understand their consternation. He looked over at the duke who smiled down at him.
"Logan, would you care to call for a toast?"
Logan shook his head slightly, but the duke reached down and pulled him up. Realising he had no choice Logan picked up his glass and raised it in a salute.
"To the duke, may he live long and may we all prosper under him."
A number of the assembled nobles signalled their agreement and drank. Logan himself refrained from drinking and sat down.
The banquet proceeded slowly, many more toasts were called and a vast feast was arrayed before the guests. It was a amazing mixture of dishes from all over the kingdom, pheasant and boar as well as chicken and a vast assortment of vegetables. It was a delight for the taste buds and every guest ate their fill.
Ever so slowly the guests began to make their excuses and leave, deep down Logan longed for them to leave.
Tomorrow at noon he would ride out for his first patrol with the Lancers, an event he had longed after for an eternity. The middle of the night came swiftly and with it the last of the guests left, with a stately bow Logan excused himself and headed for his rooms. Almost as soon as his head touched the pillow he was asleep, dreams of a strange nature filling the night for him. Dreams of wolves hunting in the forest, dreams of fighting against the Lancers not riding with them. They were alien to him, dreams he did not understand and ones which disturbed him greatly.