C2 2. The Chaos of War
Naganor, the Black Tower, loomed into the sky. Its black granite tiles reflected the sunlight like a mirror - a contrasting interplay of light and shadow. Naganor was built on stony ground, a proud tower at the edge of a ridge of mountains. At the foot of the tower lay the citadel with its great hall and assembly rooms. In front was a small yard, and a strong, high wall of stone surrounded the fortified area. A drawbridge led over the moat. Across the bridge, a road to the north and south connected Ardeen´s more distant towns. Less than a mile to the north was a mill by a brook. Another road led to the east towards a little village with a few houses and craftsmen that supported the nearby garrison: a blacksmith and carpenter, a tailor, leatherworker, baker and butcher. There was also a tavern, an herbalist, an inn and some other houses and shops. Leaving the village behind, one came to the garrison of the Black Guard, the elite troop of the Prince of Ardeen, numbering some five hundred men.
At this moment, His Highness, Prince Raiden of Ardeen was sitting in his study on the second floor of the Tower. He was the second son of King Tarn of Ardeen, and therefore highborn and of the noblest blood. Not only that, Prince Raiden was also the Lord of the Black Tower – a magician of great power. In the circle of the twelve magical fields, he was proficient in the Circle of Black, which had earned him the nickname ‘The Dark Prince’. The circle of magic was represented symbolically by colors and subjects:
Prince Raiden was almost fifty years old, but had the appearance of a man in his thirties. Magic certainly had its advantages. One of them was to lengthen the normal lifespan by many years. He had dark, shoulder-length hair and his clothing was rich and exclusive. He had a long, handsome face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw.
Shining blue eyes made a strong natural contrast to his jet black hair. He was preoccupied with brooding over a magical problem, when someone knocked at the door. Irritated, he called: “Come in.”
The door opened and one of the guards came in hesitantly. They all knew how it upset the Prince when they disturbed him at work. “What?!” The tone was aggravated.
“My Prince, one of the merchants wants to see you.”
“Am I a chandler that now every merchant comes straight to me? I am working!”
The guard was visibly uneasy. “My Prince, the merchant says he comes directly from the guild and wants to see you about a very urgent matter.”
Prince Raiden hated administration, trade and political matters. In his view, such business was incumbent on the Crown. But since the King had slipped into insanity, Prince Raiden’s older brother Danian, the Crown Prince of Ardeen, saw to these tiresome affairs.
So why is the envoy of the guild bothering me? Prince Raiden thought. The guild is powerful, and sending the delegate away is not a good idea. “Send him in.” The soldier saluted and departed. Presently the door opened, and a short, corpulent man dressed in exquisite garments came in. Ulf Merett, one of the most influential guild masters of them all. “Greetings, my Prince.” The merchant bowed and took off his hat to uncover a completely bald head. “Welcome, Master Merett. What matter has brought you so far from the capital?” Prince Raiden tried to read the thoughts of the merchant, but a safety charm blocked his attempt.
No trust in this world anymore. That heavy golden chain is dripping so heavily with magic that it must be priceless. If the toad had invested only half the money in magic to improve his appearance, he would be a handsome man.
With a theatrical wave of his hand the Black Prince closed all the open books on the table and sent them to the bookshelf. All the loose papers laid themselves nicely one upon another. Then, he magically moved a chair to the opposite side of the table.
Such trifling sorcery always impresses the unmagicals. “Take a seat.” “Thank you, my Prince. The journey was long and exhausting.”
Enough small talk for now. Come to the point. “And what urgent purpose brings you to Naganor?” The chair almost vanished beneath the mass of the merchant as he sat down. “Your Highness, you will hardly believe it, but we found another gate.”
As a matter of fact, the Prince of Ardeen did not believe this news at first. So many times before, rumors had spread of a new gate through the Nimrod, and all these stories had turned out to be false. Since the Nimrod spell had been cast, there had been only two gates connecting the southern lands to the far north. One gate was located on the west coast in Goren and led to the island of Jarl, and the other was near the east coast in Gelderon. It opened to the mountains of Ferhennen in the land of Ysryn. To reach the northern land by sea was a much longer journey and extremely dangerous, which meant that the gates were the only realistic possibility of trading with the countries of Ysryn and Jarl. No wonder every merchant dreams of a new gate. “Master Merett, up to now I have always considered you a very realistic man. There have been so many expeditions in search of new gates, and I can’t remember a single one ever being successful. For the last fifty years... I would say. That should have convinced even the greatest optimist.” Master Merett remained straight-faced. “But this one proved to be true – I had it checked myself. At first I felt like you, my Prince. A trapper came from the mountains and reported a landslide had uncovered a cave. And it was inside the cave that the new gate was discovered. I too had heard many tales like this before, and so I sent someone I trust to verify it. I thought, even if there is only the smallest chance, let´s go and see nonetheless. And my sense for lucrative possibilities did not fail me. It has been confirmed. The gate leads straight to Ysryn. It would shorten the trade routes enormously.” “This is indeed of interest. And where exactly is this new gate located?”
The merchant dug into his coat pocket and drew out a piece of parchment.
With his bulky fingers he unrolled a map of Ardeen. Some new marks had been added in red ink. Prince Raiden pulled the map towards him and glanced at it. The gate was located at the border of the Nimrod and the nearest town to the south was Falgars Vale. It was a small settlement of no importance. Possible routes for a new road were plotted on the map. They led through the valleys. To find a straight road for big wagons over the mountain crests was absolutely out of the question.
“Who else knows of this?” asked the Prince. “Only members of the guild and the trapper. At the moment we have him... ah, let’s say... he is our guest. By chance, when he arrived in Falgars Vale, the man came directly to one of my hands to spread the news. Since then not a single word has leaked out. Fortunately, I was close by in Torwall on business and was able to take care of the problem at once. When I was sure of the truth, I set out on this arduous journey to bring you the message without delay. As a free citizen of Ardeen, I consider it my duty to inform my Prince immediately about such extraordinary news.”
Sure... a duty to Ardeen... or more likely this springs from your desire for gold and power. Too bad you need the help of an official representative of Ardeen for your purpose. You cannot ignore the Crown in this delicate case. Otherwise you surely would have spared yourself this arduous journey. All right then, let´s see what you want of me. “And now, what does the guild plan to do in this matter?” Ulf Merett´s face gave nothing away as he now began to present his requirements – which had clearly been well thought out. “Roads must be established. A fortress should be built near the gate and heavily manned. Storerooms, servants’ accommodation and other buildings for trade should also be added. The closest town to the gate is Falgars Vale, but a road to Wyvernwall would also be possible.” The leader of the guild now pointed out various locations on the map. “There are some wild tribes in this area that trade in fur. They think themselves independent and do not acknowledge the sovereignty of His Majesty, King Tarn of Ardeen.
Perhaps we can buy them? In any case we should increase the number of soldiers in this area. And in this undertaking I hope for the generous support of the Crown, and also of yourself, my Prince. I came here first, because Naganor is so much closer than the capital.”
And you also hope to manipulate me so much more easily than my brother. This new gate is of the utmost importance. But I should consider well what I promise to the merchants of the guild. Otherwise they will be the only ones to benefit from this. “Of course it gratifies me that you have come to me first in this affair. But my brother Danian, the Crown Prince of Ardeen, is the rightful representative of my father. He will decide what must be undertaken in the matter. First, however, I will convince myself that the gate really exists. One of my most trusted knights will set out immediately with a few men. Please be so kind as to send them a scout for the mountains. I will also talk to Crown Prince Danian and announce your arrival. To do more now is beyond my modest powers.”
Master Merett rose: “Thank you for your support, my Prince. Certainly it is better to discuss the matter with the Crown Prince.” Once again the Dark Prince glanced at the small map and Master Merett remarked: “The map is for you, my Prince, and there is no need to offer me your hospitality. I will leave as soon as possible.” Hospitality... I didn’t consider it for a moment. “Contact Lord Boron for everything else. He is the commander of the guards. The men of the watch will show you the way.” Prince Raiden summoned the watch and gave them their orders. When Master Merett had left, Prince Raiden called his brother by magical means. Crown Prince Danian was lacking in magical skills and therefore had to rely on a bewitched artifact. Normally, this was a mirror on his desk. Luckily, Prince Raiden was connected at once.
To be exact, it was not only luck, because Danian sat behind his desk most of the time, attending to the Crown’s business: work that Prince Raiden had very successfully avoided. The Dark Prince truly had no ambition to become King. He enjoyed his freedom in many ways. Ways that would not be appropriate for a ruler of Ardeen. The Crown Prince is perfectly suited to the demands of being a king. Certainly much more so than I would ever be. He should deal with the merchants’ guild, while I devote myself to my studies in peace. Prince Raiden’s strongest desire was to break the curse lying upon him. The spell of the soulban, uttered by Master Elderon of Aleroth, first mage of the Brotherhood. Until he broke the spell, he would never be free.
In Bron’s house, four clanchiefs were holding council. The chiefs of all the most important tribes were there: Belemen Icelance from Gapway in the west, Jack Gateway from Longvalley in the east, Lorne Stonefist from Grom Mountain in the southwest and Bron Bearslayer himself from Mount Thorn. They all had serious faces, because something unusual was happening in the land of the Fenn. Foreigners had been coming and going through the woods. Not hunters, but bigger groups of soldiers as well as civilians.
Jack Gateway spoke: “Someone has discovered a gate through the Nimrod on Mount Aspen and now the Lowlanders are being attracted like a bear to honey.” Belemen interrupted: “Is it really true? Is there a gate?”
Jack nodded: “Yes, I was there. A rock slide uncovered it. That´s why no one had found it before. The gates are darkest sorcery. How else could you travel through the Nimrod instantly? I have heard about two other gates, one in the west and one in the east. But after discovering this gate, the Lowlanders will throng to our country in great numbers.
This will radically shorten the trade route to the north, and the other gates will be of less significance.”
The other clanchiefs nodded in agreement. Then Bron said: “But this is our land. The Lowlanders can´t just turn up and settle here.”
Lorne Stonefist frowned: “Once I traveled to the south – to the big towns. There are countless Lowlanders. They will arrive and outnumber us a hundred to one. And when they settle here and set up a trading route through the mountains, they will kill our game, cut down our wood and drink from our streams. This will upset the young warriors. We have to talk to the Lowlanders and we need to charge a toll as reparation. If the Lowlanders do not agree, we have to fight for our land – to the end.”
Again the others nodded and they all agreed to ask for a meeting with the Lowlanders in a month´s time to discuss the problem.
All the clans went to Falgars Vale and set up camp in front of the town. Then the day of negotiations took place. On one side were the clanchiefs Bron, Jack, Belemen, Lorne and Savas. On the other, Sir Joren, commander of the soldiers, Klaas Berden, the town steward, and one of Ulf Merett’s sons to represent the guild. They talked at length and everybody had their say. The Lowlanders’ plans were more than alarming. They intended to build roads, bridges and an outpost in the mountains, right at the newly discovered gate. The town officials spoke of all the wealth this would bring to everyone. But they also spoke about changes, and that the Fenn might have to reconsider their way of life. Nevertheless, the Lowlanders assured them that they all wanted peace. After long discussions back and forth, they finally came to an agreement. The Lowlanders would pay a certain sum at once for the use of the land, and a smaller sum every year thereafter. To make up for the animals hunted by the Lowlanders, they would also contribute food supplies to the Fenn. The Fenn considered the sum extremely generous, while the town officials were glad to get off so cheaply.
Scarcely had the Fenn left town when the work began. Craftsmen and soldiers built a road through the valleys and constructed bridges over streams and ravines. Two small settlements also sprang up: Threevalley and Aspengate. The craftsmen and soldiers worked hard and were decent and friendly to the Fenn. Then the first caravans passed through the gate, to be followed by many others. The more people poured in, the more scoundrels there were amongst them. Adventurers, hired laborers and bored soldiers loafed around in the settlements, always pursuing pleasure rather than honest work.
As soon as the first road was finished, the Lowlanders immediately started to establish a second route from the southeast. It branched off the Westway and passed by Wyvernwall, a rather insignificant stronghold up to that point.
They widened the road beyond Wyverwall and extended it through the woods towards the mountains. In the foothills, they founded the new settlement of Aspenway. From Aspenway, the road continued through Long Valley until it reached Aspengate. This brought the road close to the settlement of Jack’s Clan.
Some of the travelers bothered the women of the Fenn and blood ran hot. Many young warriors demanded revenge and insisted that all Lowlanders be expelled from the land. Even worse, other Fenn adopted the contemptible habits of the Lowlanders. They copied their style of dress and their drinking habits. A warrior named Vrat the Raven spoke ferociously of war and found a large audience among the young people. But the clanchiefs urged calm and held fast to peace. Years had made them wise and they knew that every war also brought great sorrow. Over and over, they complained about the violations and each time, the Lowlanders gave them satisfaction, expressing their regret and promising to maintain law and order in the future. Their words were nothing more than empty promises, however, and the assaults continued.
Willen Onetooth was now called Willen Gatefinder, but apart from his new nickname, discovering the gate did not benefit him much. Although the merchants had given him a lot of money, it ran through his fingers like water. Gambling, women, a few luxuries and it was almost gone. To make a living now, Willen acted as a mountain guide, leading groups through the land he knew so well. Mostly they were hunting parties, or people looking for a more direct way to the gate. The paths were not suitable for big wagons, leading as they did through the woods and over the mountain crests.
At this time, Willen was leading a troop of mercenary soldiers. They had been thrown together from all nations and some of them seemed to be truly grim fellows. Their leader was Tarn, and they called him ‘King Tarn’ because he had the same name as the King of Ardeen. Tarn had only one eye left. His favorite weapon was a mighty ax. Oswen, a wiry fellow with a hounded look, was his right-hand man. Most of the men bore ugly scars across their faces, and it was hard to tell whether they were mercenary soldiers or plain robbers. Willen did not ask. They had paid him good gold to act as their guide, and this was exactly what he was doing now. In fact, they had planned to reach Aspengate in the evening, but a storm forced them to seek shelter. They spent several hours under the cover of a ledge before they were able to continue the journey, and it soon became clear that they would not reach their destination before nightfall. Willen suggested they stay the night in the village of the Fenn, which started a discussion among the men. Oswen argued: “I’m for pushing on to Aspengate. It’s easy to follow the road even in the dark.” Tarn, however, was not happy about that. They were all soaking wet and he liked the idea of a warm fire and a roof over his head. “A few hours won’t make any difference,” he said. Oswen lost his temper. Tarn responded by raising his thundering voice and laying a threatening hand on the handle of his ax. So, the decision was made and Oswen gave in grudgingly. They climbed up the path to the village and Willen led them to Bron’s house. He knocked and Lyesell opened the door and welcomed him. “I’m sure Bron will be back soon. To be honest, he should have been here already, but the bad weather has probably delayed him.” Lyesell was still a beauty, in spite of her mature years. Slender, her hair long and blond, she stood in the doorway.
Willen explained: “I am bound for Aspengate with Tarn and his men. We were also surprised by the weather and now we would be glad to shelter here for the night.”
Lyesell invited them in: “The house is too small for everyone, but some of you can sleep in the stable. I’m sure that will be all right. Bron will settle it when he gets back. In the meantime you can wait in the living room. It wasn’t until the men had entered the room that Lyesell realized what shady characters she had asked into her home. Devious, carnal, stupid and dastardly were the attributes that came to her mind as she watched them.
Bron will be here soon, she hoped, trying not to seem nervous. “I will make you some porridge. After such a long day I am sure you need something warm in your stomach.” “And in my bed.” One of the men said boldly. The others howled with laughter at the dirty remark.
“Silence!” shouted Tarn. “We are guests in this house and of course we will pay for the meal.” He fumbled in his pocket for some gold coins and threw them on the table in front of Lyesell. But the gesture was more of an insult than an act of generosity.
The man called Oswen piped up: “Tarn, you don’t pay us so well, but we’re not as easy on the eyes as this beauty.” Then he turned to Lyesell: “For this much gold we should get more than thin porridge.”
The men’s talk disgusted Lyesell, but she didn’t let it show. “Perhaps I can find a few carrots to boil up. But don´t hope for more.” The men laughed: “She has a sharp tongue, this one.”
Willen remained silent and observed the scene from the corner. By now, Lyesell was fervently hoping that Bron would return soon. This vulgar rabble will not dare to insult me when he is here. And I hope he throws them all out. Then she considered: I could also run to the next farm and ask for help. If I scream here, no one will hear me. We live too far away.
Lyesell went to the door, but Oswen blocked her path. “Where are you going, my beauty?”
“I need more logs for the fire,” she lied. Whether Oswen read her face or not, Lyesell couldn’t tell. Whatever the case, he thwarted her plans.
“The idle rascals here can attend to that. Hyman and Egril, you heard the lady. Now go! Make yourselves useful.” Grumbling, both men got up and left.
Lyesell stepped back to the stove and saw to the kettle. She felt the lusty glances resting on her back. She tried to ignore the shifty ruffians as well as she could while she stirred herbs into the water.
The men started to talk about their journey, and Lyesell was glad to escape their attentions. She pretended to be busy and cut the carrots as slowly as possible. But then she had to fetch the oats and left the room. She thought the men had not noticed, when she was assailed by a voice from behind: “Will the meal be ready soon, my beauty?”
Caught out, Lyesell turned around: “I need the oats from the pantry. And thanks, I can fetch them myself.” They let her go. A wooden stairway led from the living room down to the pantry. The house had been built along a hillside, and there was a small natural cave in the stone. Bron had incorporated this cave while building the house and made it into a pantry. Now they stored their supplies there. A narrow vent for fresh air provided the only way out and it was too small for larger animals to get in through, consequently making it far too small for a person to get out of. Lyesell placed the torch in an iron holder on the wall and sat down in relief on a sack of seeds. She was glad to be away from those filthy men. Especially Oswen, with his disgusting lecherous stare. She just sat there and took a deep breath. When Bron comes home, he will throw this rabble out. It was a mistake to invite them in. I saw only Willen at first and had no idea he was keeping such low company. As Lyesell was brooding over her situation, she suddenly heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Terrified, she leaped to her feet. It was Oswen. “We’re hungry, my precious.”
Turning her back towards Oswen, Lyesell busied herself with the sack of oats. “I’m going as fast as I can,” she remarked. Suddenly Oswen was behind her, wrapping both arms around her. “Those fellows upstairs can wait a little while longer,” he whispered in her ear. He stank of sweat and grime. Lyesell’s heart almost stopped as the repulsive lout held her tight. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Panic overwhelmed her. Then Oswen pushed her onto the sacks and pulled up her skirt. Suddenly, Lyesell woke out of her stupor and lashed about wildly. With one hand she grabbed a small shovel and struck the libertine with it. The metal hit Oswen’s skull with a dull thud and he fell back. In an instant, Lyesell grabbed the knife handle from Oswen’s belt. She reacted without thinking as she drew the blade and stabbed Oswen sideways in the belly. Then she turned and ran screaming upstairs. She had almost reached the top when something hit her in the back. A fierce pain shot through her body, and still Lyesell ran on, pushed open the door and tumbled into the living room. She tried to breathe, but no air entered her lungs. Blood filled her mouth. She fell down and lay gasping on the floor.
The men jumped up and stared aghast at the dying woman. Then Oswen, too, stumbled up the stairs. “The stupid slut stabbed me in the belly,” he bawled. Tarn thundered: “Are you out of your mind, you vile knave? Couldn’t you keep your cock to yourself? And now? What shall we...?” Right at that moment, the door opened and a big, strong man stood in the door frame. The master of the house was home and in a split second he understood what had happened. He drew the long knife from the scabbard and rammed it into the chest of the nearest brigand. Now they all drew their weapons and crowded in on Bron. He smashed one man’s throat with his bare fist and snatched the battle-ax from the dying man’s hand. A knife sliced through Bron’s shoulder and robbed him of the feeling in his left arm. With the might of desperation he struck out wildly and the ax took its toll.
But there were too many attackers, and after a short, bloody fight Bron was felled. His body was slashed with deep wounds and he was dead even before he hit the ground. He lay there, stretched out beside his beloved wife, his blood spreading out around him to form a steadily growing pool that joined him to Lyesell on their final journey.
Four brigands were dead, too, and almost all the survivors had sustained injuries. Oswen sat whimpering on the floor while his blood mingled with the contents of his guts before draining from the wound.
The sound attracted Tarn’s attention. Enraged, he crossed the room. With a swift slice through the throat, he sent Oswen to the afterworld before cleaning his blade on the dead man’s clothes.
“He would have died anyway, before we reached a healer. Thanks to the foolishness of this man we have to leave. We go at once... and torch the hut!”
Willen had kept himself out of the tumult. He was not a brave man. If he now opposed the brigands, he would be as dead as those already lying on the floor. So he acted as if he didn’t care about what had happened to Bron and Lyesell.
Half an hour later, the farm was ablaze and the brigands were already far away from the scene of their crime. Elken Redfox, Arun’s grandfather, was the first to noticed the fire from his farm, which was the nearest to the burning house. Soon the whole village was trying to bring the flames under control.
Earlier that day Bron, Eryn and Arun, along with some other men, had been to Jack Gateway’s settlement for a meeting of the warriors. As always, the old men advised prudence and the young argued for war. Vrat the Raven spoke fanatically and sparked fire in their hearts.
Afterward Bron left to go hunting, while the young men stayed and put on a competition.
They competed in shooting arrows, wrestling and racing. The sudden storm that day had surprised everybody, and they set out for home much later than they had planned.
The fire on the mountainside could be seen from far away, and the young men had an uneasy feeling that something terrible had happened. They hurried up the hill to the village. A cold sensation spread through Eryn’s chest when he saw that it was his parents’ house that was burning. By the time he reached his home, the villagers had already extinguished the flames and there were only charred remains and small pockets of embers scattered over the ground. The blood in Eryn’s veins turned to ice. Arun’s grandfather, Elken, had already examined the corpses and he and the other villagers were now discussing the circumstances of the murder. Ragnar No-Heart, a respected warrior, recalled: “I saw a group of men on the road yesterday. Willen was guiding them. If they were responsible for this deed, then five of them must still be alive.” In a few short minutes, Eryn’s world had broken apart. Overcome with wrath and grief, he stepped over to his parents’ bodies and took his leave in silence. He struggled to take in the whole situation, which seemed so unreal. Finally he made up his mind and turned to the Clan: “The fire has already taken almost everything. Burn the rest as well. Narna, please send a prayer to the Gods on my behalf - mine is the path of vengeance.”
This time none of the old warriors opposed him. Eryn continued: “I will hunt the murderers down and then join Vrat’s rebels. I will never return to this place again. The time of the Raven has come.” The young warriors cheered their assent and Arun, Savas, Deren and Aileen were ready to join Eryn at once.
It was not difficult to guess the path the murderers had taken. Ragnar had seen them coming from Falgars Vale, which meant they were probably heading for the gate. Once they passed through the gate, it would become difficult to track them down.
Narna and Elken promised to follow the next day with all the warriors of the village, and they all agreed to meet at Aspengate. The murderers were almost certainly still there, as the Lowlanders let no one through the gate after sunset. Equipping themselves with only the essentials, Eryn and his friends set off once more into the night.
The sun had already climbed into the sky when Eryn and his companions arrived at Aspengate. The outpost was only lightly fortified and two sleepy guards stood watch by the gate.
Eryn headed for the soldiers, but Arun held him back: “Your heart is too full of rage and sorrow. Let me do the talking.”
Eryn nodded in silence. Arun asked the guards politely about Willen and the strangers, and found out that the murderers had arrived in town only an hour ago. Now the guards asked them what business they had in Aspengate, and Arun made up a story: “We were hunting in the mountains yesterday, when we were caught in the thunderstorm. So we had to spend the night outside and now we want to get some supplies and a warm meal.” The guards let them pass without suspicion. Aspengate was not a big place and there were only a few houses where the brigands could be. There was a tavern for travelers in the central square. The market stalls were already open for business. Arun and Eryn were undecided about how to proceed. Should they split up and check the different taverns or should they stay together? At that moment, Willen stepped out of the tavern called ‘The Red Deer’, followed by five men of dubious appearance. They were clearly men who were used to fighting, with their steeled muscles and sharp weapons. Arun was in two minds about what to do next, but Eryn, blinded by hate, seized the initiative and shouted across the square: “Willen! Is that the way you thank the Fenn for their hospitality during all these years?” Willen winced slightly but when Eryn came close, he regained his composure. “Greetings, Eryn. What do you mean?” he asked with feigned astonishment.
The young man’s anger soared to even greater heights. “Yesterday my father’s house was burned down and murderers slaughtered my parents. I demand satisfaction!”
“I am extremely sorry. This is terrible news indeed,” whispered Willen, but his eyes avoided Eryn’s.
He lies. He was there.
Now a bulky man with an ax by his side intervened: “What’s the boy’s problem, Willen?” Willen shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing. Eryn, who was anything but a diplomat, came straight to the point: “You and these men were seen as you took the road from Falgars Vale. And you rewarded my parents’ hospitality with murder! My father, Bron Bearslayer, cut down five of your rabble, but I cannot rest until their deaths are avenged.” Willen made as if to answer, but the big man pushed him aside and interrupted: “Ho, ho, these are grave charges. Do you suspect us of being involved? We are honest people caught by the weather yesterday. It cost us a great deal of time and we didn’t reach Aspengate until nightfall. Forgive me, but I don’t know your father. And whatever has happened, we had nothing to do with it. So off you go and don’t bother us any more.” Eryn took hold of his long knife, but the men around Willen just watched him with mild interest. This turn of events didn’t please Eryn at all. Somehow in his naivety he had thought: I will confront the murderers and take revenge in combat. But now it looks as if they are trying to avoid a fight. They don’t take me seriously. But they are the murderers. That is absolutely clear. They have several fresh wounds. The bald one here has bandaged the cut in his arm. Looks like it was done in a real hurry. The piece of rag is already darkened with fresh blood.
Tattered clothes, cuts all over, countless bloodstains on tunics and breeches. No, there is no doubt – these are the men we are looking for.
Arun whispered in Eryn’s ear: “Let them go. We’ll catch them later when they leave town.”
But Eryn didn’t listen and demanded aggressively: “Explain yourself – how do you come to be wounded and what does all this blood on your clothes mean?” “I will explain nothing, boy. And now take your leave, before I forget myself.” The leader’s voice rumbled deep in his chest.
“Let’s go, Tarn,” Willen tried feebly to calm things down. They had already attracted attention, with people beginning to stare. The bustle of the marketplace had stopped.
In his anger, Eryn forgot all common sense. In his youthful foolishness, he ignored the nature of the surroundings he found himself in and the fact that the murderers were head and shoulders above him in strength and skill. The long knife was already in his hand. “The Gods of the Fenn will see to justice. Was it you who killed Bron from behind? Because a coward like you could never defeat him face to face!”
The clashing and scraping of metal rang out as weapons on both sides were drawn from their scabbards.
“We are leaving now, boy, and you will not stop us. If you value your life, you’d better put your toy weapon away.” Tarn slowly circled around Eryn while his men spread out, surrounding him. The whole affair attracted the attention of the guards, who now crossed the square and headed for Tarn: “Put down your weapons! What’s going on?” Even the soldiers were no real threat for Tarn but it was not wise to take on the authorities. Tarn had already made trouble in too many countries, and he had grown wiser as a result. “Apologies, Sir. These young men are looking for a fight and we were just leaving.” The blades disappeared as quickly as they had been drawn. Only Eryn held on stubbornly to his long knife.
“You too, weapon down!” shouted the soldier. Sullenly, Eryn followed the command. “Those men are murderers and I demand justice.” The guard frowned: “Serious accusations. Can you prove it?” But before Eryn could say anything, Tarn bawled out: “A boy’s fantasy. We are peaceful travelers and would like to continue our journey. We are already delayed. Yesterday the weather – you know. So if you would excuse us...” Tarn bowed slightly and attempted to walk away, but the guard held him back: “Stop! No one’s going anywhere. This matter needs to be resolved and only the commander can make a decision.”
Tarn cracked a smile: “Certainly, as you wish. The mistake will soon be cleared up.” The soldier who had spoken walked away while the other stayed to keep an eye on the troublemakers. Tarn and his men drew back to the tavern veranda and seated themselves on a bench, whispering.
The bald one, Loren, spoke out: “We can just clear out. The soldier there isn’t a match for us anyway.”
But Tarn shook his head: “They can prove nothing. It’s our word against the lad’s babble. Who are they going to believe?” “And the injuries? They can send for a mage to read our thoughts.” Balder was concerned because of the clearly visible cut on his arm.
Tarn looked disdainfully at them: “Idiots, here in the mountains magic doesn’t work. Everyone knows that. But now this is our story: We were set upon a wyvern – that explains the injuries and the blood. We are hunters. Let me do the talking, then we’ll leave without a problem. And Willen... don’t do anything stupid. You are just as much a part of this as we are. Think carefully about what you say.”
Willen nodded. He was already in far too deep.
Eryn and his comrades still hadn’t moved. They, too, were holding council. “This action was too hasty,” Arun commented. But Eryn was not in the mood to give in: “They are the murderers for sure and justice must be done!”
Aileen tried to calm him down: “We all grieve for Bron and Lyesell, and your pain is surely greatest. But consider that we are strangers in this town. They have different customs. So, pull in your horns, for the more you are upset, the less they will believe you. Our clanbrothers will turn up soon, and the soldiers will take their word more seriously than ours. Even though we have received our names, we have not yet performed any great deeds. Our names are meaningless in the clan community and completely unknown amongst our enemies.” Aileen achieved her aim and Eryn saw reason. She still held the key to his heart, making her words more effective than the advice of his friends.
A little while later, more soldiers appeared on the square and kept a close watch on the parties to the dispute. It took another hour, however, until the commander of the fortress was disposed to listen to the case. All parties were led to the assembly hall, where all weapons had to be left outside. Tarn and his bunch were taken to one side of the hall, while Eryn and his friends were taken to the other. Several soldiers positioned themselves between them. The podium at the end of the hall remained empty while they waited. Time dragged on slowly and Eryn suppressed a yawn. They had been awake for many hours now and it was beginning to take its toll. He looked into the pale and tired faces of his friends. They weren’t much better off than he was. And the worst of it was they could do nothing but wait.
Suddenly there was movement at the door. A dashing officer in decorated armor entered the hall and shouted: “Attention!”
The guards at the entrance clicked their heels loudly and all the soldiers in the room sprang to attention. The officer was followed by a procession of dignitaries, who all walked up to the podium and seated themselves upon it.
At the center sat the commander of Aspengate, Sir Gart Orten. As the offspring of a noble house, he had already attained the position of garrison commander by the age of thirty. Sir Orten looked rather pale and unimpressive. Eglund Merett was seated right beside him. He represented the merchants’ guild, and wore a heavy golden chain around his neck as a mark of his rank. Eglund was the nephew of Ulf Merett, and the aura he radiated was far more powerful than that of Sir Orten. On the left sat the scribe. The dashing officer stood at the back and now commanded: “All rise!” The audience obeyed and the officer continued: “In the name of His Highness Prince Raiden of Ardeen, Protector of the North, this hearing is now opened. Sir Orten, commander of Aspengate, will act as judge and the ambassador of the merchants’ guild. Eglund Merett will act as his assistant.”
The hearing commenced, and each side was given the chance to give their version of events. There followed endless talk. Sir Orten questioned everyone who had been involved, seemingly determined to uncover the truth. The judge asked for evidence that Tarn’s men had been involved in the crime, but except for the word of the young Fenn warriors there was no concrete proof. Sir Orten was a conscientious man and wanted to be certain not to make any mistakes. Finally, he left the room to consult with Master Eglund.
Although Sir Orten had been sitting the entire time, he now sank back exhausted into a comfortable chair and offered the merchant a seat. “Please seat yourself, Master Merett.” Eglund may not have equaled the size of his uncle, but he nevertheless shared the typical Merett characteristics: short and chubby with thinning hair.
The hearing had once again reminded Sir Orten how much he disliked dealing with disputes of this nature. Aspengate was indeed a melting pot of vulgar roughnecks.
Added to that were the problems with savages from the mountains. Stealing and other crimes were a daily occurrence. And last but not least the merchants’ guild. Powerful and greedy for money, they were worse than all the other scoundrels put together. “This Bron Bearslayer was one of the clanchiefs of the Fenn. The young warriors are very upset. It would help to find a culprit,” Sir Orten said. But Eglund countered: “There is no proof, and this savage Eryn admits himself that he did not witness the murder. Their only evidence is that Tarn’s men were on the road yesterday. Everything else is mere speculation.”
The commander leaned back in resignation: “Tarn and his fellows are scoundrels. That´s a fact. And I do not want to worsen our relations with the clans.” But as for me, Master Merett thought, a little war could solve all our problems with the savages and the guild could probably get out of the yearly payments to those wildlings. We should take advantage of this golden opportunity. “Sir Orten, we should not set a precedent. The case is unclear and it could cause major problems with the general citizenry if we favor the clanspeople. They could accuse us of caprice if we make a decision without clear proof.”
Master Merett knew the words that would convince Sir Orten. He appealed to honor, duty and correctness until he had brought Sir Orten around to his point of view. Truly, Eglund Merett was the de facto leader of Aspengate.
When the two noblemen had left the hall to confer, talk began to fill the room.
Eryn remarked to Arun: “This is our land. Why are we deferring to the Lowlanders anyway? It should be up to the clans to decide.”
“Or the Gods should judge our claims through combat,” Aileen put in.
Weariness was written all over Arun’s face. He leaned back and spread his arms out to both sides on the back of the bench. “The commander seems to me to be a just man.”
“Pah!” Eryn interjected. “What does justice mean to the Lowlanders? Have they ever called any one of their people to account? You’ve heard Vrat the Raven. They steal and murder, insult and rape but always manage to sweet talk their way out of it. A guilty man is never to be found among them. When has there ever been justice? I would say: never!”
They all agreed.
“We should have seen to it outside the town,” Savas remarked in a low voice. Eryn nodded grimly. “We were not even sure that they were hiding in town. We had to come here first to find out.” “And you acted emotionally,” Aileen rebuked Eryn. The reproach stung, but he knew Aileen was right. We should have just waited and watched them until they left town. Then we could have ambushed them. On the other hand, if they had made it through the gate, we would probably have lost our chance to catch them. Arun interrupted Eryn’s thoughts: “The clan will come soon. Maybe they are already in the hills outside the town and the older men will know what to do.”
Eryn replied heatedly: “The old ones always talk of peace. They have forgotten how to fight. Come what may – I will avenge my parents”.
The others fell silent and Eryn was lost in thought. Never again will I hear their voices, see their faces or embrace them. A lump formed in his throat. My life has changed completely from one day to the next. Now I am alone, and the only thing left for me is revenge. I may come home later and rebuild the farm. But he could not bear the thought of the burned ruins. He tried to put the terrible event out of his mind and to remember only the good times. Then he made up his mind. No! My decision is right. I will follow Vrat. The Raven will fight now and Bron’s death will provide the cause. Perhaps this Lowlander commander will make a just decision today. This would keep the peace for a little longer. But new injustices will happen soon and the young warriors will raise their bows and draw their longknives. And I will be among them.
Sir Orten and the fat guildsman came back into the room. The dashing officer performed the same ceremony as before. “In the name of the Prince of Ardeen...”
Who the hell is this person? thought Eryn, annoyed. This is the land of the Fenn. The clans decide here, not some prince from who knows where. Now the commander, Sir Orten spoke: “I promise that I will do everything in my power to find the culprits in this case and bring them to justice. But there is no evidence that Tarn and his fellows are really these wanted men. Injustice must not result in new injustice. Therefore, I will order a further investigation. I will send men to Falgars Vale to interrogate the locals. During that time, Willen, Tarn and his companions will be kept under arrest here in Aspengate. This is all I can do right now.” He ended his speech and a tumultuous uproar filled the hall. None of the parties were actually happy with the outcome of the hearing. Eryn yelled in fury and Tarn’s strong, deep voice roared from the other corner in disagreement. If anyone had looked at Master Eglund at this moment, they would have seen a sneer of victory flicker over his lips. It hovered there for a second or two and then he regained control. Sir Orten had Tarn arrested and escorted Eryn and his friends out of the hall. They were led politely but determinedly through the city gates. The young Fenn was boiling with rage. They climbed a little way into the hills and finally stopped at a place where they could observe the road to Aspengate. Still upset at what had happened, they had a brief discussion in which they decided that Eryn should stay there with Deren, while Arun and Aileen went off in search of Jack Gateway of the Long Valley to inform the clanchief about what had happened.
They elected Savas to go back to their own clan and spread the news.
In the evening, some two hundred warriors were camped in the woods around Aspengate. There were men of Bron’s clan, now led by Corman Silverfur. Jack Gateway had turned up as well, with his men from the Long Valley, including Vrat the Raven. All were aghast at Bron Bearslayer’s death. He had been a popular and respected man. They held council, and not even the most coolheaded among them spoke of peace any more. Feelings were at boiling point and, before the next dawn broke, the Fenn had decided to reclaim their land by force. The guards at Aspengate had doubled, but the Fenn knew how to move without a sound. There were many shadows offering protection from which to approach Aspengate unseen. The guards were eliminated quickly and the intruders had soon opened the gate. Then all hell broke loose. Arrows whirred, weapons clashed and the screams of wounded men penetrated the cold night air. One house was ablaze and the fire was already leaping over to the next. At the marketplace, the Lowlander soldiers had formed up and were now fighting doggedly against the clans. Eryn fought side by side with Arun and Deren. Aileen was in the background, providing cover for the others with her bow. Eryn’s long knife slipped between two armor plates into the belly of a soldier. The man screamed like a slaughtered pig, dropped his weapon and fell to the ground. At that moment, Eryn grabbed him by the hair and slit his throat. The screaming had set his teeth on edge, so Eryn almost felt as if he had rescued the man from his pain.
Arun fought another Lowlander, but as Eryn came over to help him, the enemy ran away. Meanwhile, the battle in the marketplace was over. The Fenn had killed the last of their enemies and corpses from both sides were strewn about everywhere.
Among them was the commander, Sir Orten, who had fought bravely. It was not long until all the Lowlanders had either fled or been slain. Eryn found the bodies of Tarn and his men. They too had been engaged in the fighting and had not been arrested as Sir Orten had promised. Later on, Eryn discovered that Ragnar had killed Tarn. Ragnar himself had sustained a deep wound from Tarn’s ax, which had smashed his shield and sunk into his left arm. When the fighting had come to an end, the Fenn set the remaining houses of Aspengate ablaze. The fire flared high and illuminated the sky with a ghostly light long before sunrise.
Eryn had now avenged his parents, yet he found no peace. He joined Vrat the Raven and his men as he had intended. At first they were a band of about forty warriors. They hid in the mountains and destroyed the fortress at Threevalley, before attacking the Lowlanders wherever they found them. With these first successes, Vrat gained more influence and the other clanchiefs started to believe they really could cast the Lowlanders out. Corman, Jack, Belemen, Loren and Savas united their warriors with Vrat’s men and together they attacked Falgars Vale.
But the town of Falgars Vale was far better fortified than Aspengate, and many more soldiers awaited them there. After a bloody battle, the Fenn were forced to withdraw. The revenge of the Lowlanders was not long in coming, and they fell upon the Fenn in great numbers. First, they destroyed Jack’s settlement and established a fortress in Long Valley. Jack himself died in combat and those who could fled into the mountains. Mercilessly, the Lowlanders killed every Fenn they found, regardless of whether they were old men, women or children. The few survivors of Jack’s Clan joined Corman’s ranks.
But the Lowlanders fell upon Bron’s old settlement next, because it was close to Aspengate. The battle was long and hard-fought, with heavy losses on both sides. The clansmen’s village held a favorable strategic position on the hillside, but could not prevent the inevitable in the end. After the fight was lost, most surviving warriors joined Vrat, while a few others marched deeper into the mountains with the old, the wounded, and the women and children. Not long after, the other chiefs, Lorne and Savas, capitulated. Their settlements lay far closer to the Lowlanders’ towns, and they surrendered so that the Lowlanders would spare their people’s lives. The conditions were oppressive, with crippling tolls to pay to their conquerors in food and work. No one spoke anymore about payment for the land.
A new and stronger fortress was built on the ruins of Aspengate. Vrat continued to terrorize the Lowlanders, ambushing poorly-guarded supply trains and small patrols. But the Lowlanders were also becoming more watchful, sending out scouts and pressing hard on Vrat and his men on more than one occasion.
Things went from bad to worse when Chief Belemen surrendered. In fact, he merely confirmed his peaceful relations with the Lowlanders. A clever speaker, he denied ever having joined the war against the Lowlanders.
They were suspicious, however, and sent soldiers and officials to the settlements of the Fenn. It was loudly proclaimed that these villages now belonged to the kingdom of Ardeen and in the future there would be only one law: the law of Ardeen.
The presence of the foreigners in the clan villages now made it far more difficult for Vrat to find refuge and support. The Lowlanders declared him an outlaw and set a price on his head. They also offered a bounty for the capture of the most notorious members of his band. But Vrat was clever and he knew the mountains well. He had created secret camps in many places where they could hide. And he avoided open combat.
The Raven now planned every operation very carefully and acted only when the risk for his men was low. He could not afford to lose a single man, whereas the Lowlanders seemed countless. It didn’t help that some Fenn treacherously sold their scouting services to the enemies and helped to track down Vrat and his band. But they had not yet succeeded. The Raven’s lot were like an annoying insect, circling the great beast Ardeen and stinging it at every opportunity.