The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 3

  As Alaezdar tilled the land one afternoon, he stopped and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He watched as Aaelie walked towards her house in the distance, coming with her mother from the Sippling River and both carrying the village’s daily wash. Although her mother was middle aged and just beginning to show some gray streaks in her hair, Aaelie was still strong and beautiful. She had the beauty of her mother and was slender and strong. Her long brown hair was tied in a tight braid and hung down to the middle of her back. Alaezdar watched her long legs keep pace with her mother as she trailed behind.

  Their daily routine was to wash the clothes in the cold Sippling River and bring them back to their home to dry, fold and then deliver to the owners. Taking advantage of this service was something most villagers did, and they paid well for it. Even the other women in the village took advantage of the service and used the extra time for a break or to get some extra chores finished before night fell, especially during the shortened daylight hours that were coming.

  Aaelie and her mother reached their home and set the clothes down. Her mother immediately began hanging up the clothes on the line while Aaelie walked on towards the house. When she reached the step, she noticed Alaezdar watching and she waved towards him and smiled demurely. Alaezdar smiled and waved back. He took a deep breath, a little embarrassed, and urged the ox to go forward once again.

  He thought of her as he worked. She was younger than he was by at least five years, and he thought her too young to be flirting with, or so he told himself. She was beyond her teen years, but she still had some maturing to do, as far as he was concerned.

  His life before his quiet and peaceful escape to Valewood had caused him to grow up quickly. In his earlier days, as a mercenary, he had experienced many harsh things in life and had seen worse. He felt too mature now to be fawning over a young girl like Aaelie, but that still did not keep him from being attracted to her charm and a youthful outlook that made her so pleasant to be around. He had made up his mind early, however, that he would keep a safe distance from her. A task much easier said than done, for he did find her attractive and her personality magnetic, but for everyone’s sake, he had to keep her at arms length.

  She had just gone inside her house when he saw movement behind the trees near her home. Straining to look, he only saw shadows as something darted from tree to tree. He unhooked himself from the ox and, shading his eyes from the sun, walked towards her house. He was beginning to think that he was just seeing things when he saw it again. Still he saw nothing more than shadows, but now he knew that he had indeed seen something.

  The guild? They couldn’t have found him, could they? He shook his head in disbelief as he broke into a run and jumped over the wooden fence that surrounded the field.

  He had reached Aaelie’s front porch when the first arrow whizzed passed his head and sank into the column holding up the low roof of her porch.

  “Aaelie!” he yelled. “Don’t leave your house! Stay inside!”

  He charged into the tree line where the arrow had come from, but he did not immediately see anything. He quickly scanned the area again, but still saw nothing. Fearing the worst, he looked back at Aaelie’s house and saw her and her mother standing on the porch, watching him run frantically back and forth through the woods.

  He was about to give up looking when he saw three figures come around the house and grab Aaelie and her mother with knives pressed to their throats. People from the village had begun to gather and gawk at what was going on, and Alaezdar yelled for everyone to get back inside their homes and hide. As he ran towards Aaelie, he waved his arms at the crowd to get their attention, but none of them moved. They stood watching, transfixed on the men who were holding the two women.

  “They are here for me!” he yelled as he ran, but as soon as he yelled, a hail of arrows from the woods behind him fell into the growing crowd and killed villagers as the arrows hit their marks.

  “Let them go! I will come peacefully!” he begged, running faster now, but the faster he ran, the slower time began to move for him. Arrows screamed through the air and each found a villager. Still the gathered crowd stood, helpless, merely watching the events unfold around them.

  “Run, you fools!” he screamed at his friends. He was now out of breath as he neared Aaelie. The villagers now began to run, but they seemed not to be running from the arrows, but rather to get away from him. What is wrong with them, he thought. How could they be so ignorant of the danger? These men are killing them wantonly and the attackers don’t care if they are women or children.

  He was about to jump onto her porch when someone came from his left side, tackled him and took him down, knocking the wind out of him. He felt his ribs crushing under the weight of the man who then threw himself on top of him.

  “Alaezdar!” the attacker yelled at him after he had rolled off, grabbed Alaezdar’s tunic and lifted his head up off the ground. “Snap out of it!”

  Alaezdar opened his eyes and saw Tharn, his opened palm ready to slap him.

  “Wait!” Alaezdar said and broke free from Tharn’s grip and rolled away. “What is going on?”

  Alaezdar looked around him and saw no massacred villagers. Instead the villagers were untouched and were milling around him shaking their heads with wide eyes, as if he had lost his mind.

  Maybe I have, he thought.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw that Aaelie’s mother was holding her as if shielding her. Aaelie had concern in her eyes, but her mother looked at him as if he had committed a heinous crime.

  “What happened?” Alaezdar asked.

  “Are you ok now?” Tharn asked. “We don’t know what happened. You just snapped and were screaming and waving your arms and running towards Aaelie.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  Tharn gently helped him up, brushed off his pants and tunic and then walked away, hoping no one would say anything more.

  “I’m sorry, Tharn,” he said meekly.

  Alaezdar walked back to the ox and plow, trying to remember the vision he’d had, but already the details were fading. Confused, he went back to work. He wished no one had noticed what happened, but he knew he had achieved what he wanted the least, attention.

  Chapter 2

  The village center of Valewood bustled with its busy townsfolk preparing for the harvest reaping and the upcoming celebration. The cloudy day did not discourage the villagers, but motivated them to work faster for they welcomed the coming of the cool temperatures in contrast to the recent months of the hot Flamespan days.

  In just a few short days the representatives of the northern kingdoms would come to bid for the best price for their yearly supply of goods. Down the two main streets of crowded businesses, the villagers were cleaning their shops and tending to the locals who brought in supplies for their booths. Inns especially were busy, cleaning up, painting and sprucing up their facilities in hopes of attracting the richest of the representatives to their inn alone.

  Carpenters hammered noisily as they built a stage for the performances to be held near the fountain at the end of the lane. The fountain -- merely a miniature replica of the wheelhouse that brought the water from the Sippling River into the duct system for all the farms of Valewood -- had no water in it at the moment. The workers had painstakingly painted the fountain to restore its glossy look and bring about its majestic presence as the focal point to the whole town, just as it had always been.

  Rivlok watched the painters briefly before he hefted a bag of feed onto the back of an old spotted gelding.

  “Thank you, Rivlok,” Marlie said as the strong teenager finished tying down the old woman’s load of feed onto the horse.

  “My pleasure, Marlie.” Rivlok checked the straps one final time before handing
the reins over to the old woman. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?”

  “No, I am quite alright. Thank you, sweetie.”

  Rivlok smiled, turned from Marlie and continued his stroll down the center street of Valewood. He held no real job, but he kept himself busy all day long. He would rather roam around and help others as he saw fit. A village hero, as he liked to think of himself. He was young and energetic, but did not work well with a crew in the fields or as an apprentice to the blacksmith, although he had done it all. The fact that he did not have a single purpose in the village did not bother him, though, because he enjoyed his freedom to do whatever he wanted.

  Most villagers did not care that he didn’t have a job, although he did get harassed time and again from some of the older men in the village who tended to believe in their own old work ethic, but Rivlok didn’t care. He was well liked by the people who knew him well. His biggest disappointment to others, and to himself for that matter, was that since he was such a quick learner, he usually just got bored after he mastered what was taught, and he felt the urge to move on to something else.

  Some took this as cockiness, but he didn’t see himself as cocky, just better, that’s all.

  As he walked down the center of the street, he saw Rankin, the village blacksmith, talking to a young teen named Kunther. He was holding a new sword that Rankin had been working on for him. Rankin laughed as Kunther did a few swings with the sword and ran off into the middle of the street, moving towards Rivlok. Not looking where he ran, Kunther swung the sword carelessly in front of him.

  Rivlok jumped in front of him and grabbed the arm that held the sword.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry, Kunth?”

  Kunther looked up, startled.

  “I am going to see if Kord has my scabbard ready. Like my new sword?” Kunther said, displaying his blade proudly.

  “Yeah, it’s nice, but be careful where you swing that thing.”

  Kunther gave Rivlok a glance that told Rivlok that he didn’t care too much for his advice, and then he continued off to find Kord.

  Rivlok continued walking and his thoughts began to drift off to Aaelie. Out of all the girls in the village, he found that he spent most of his time with her. She was sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and pretty. The prettiest he had ever seen in Valewood. He smiled to himself and figured he had done enough for today. He decided to pay her a visit.

  Still deep in thought about her, he didn’t realize that he had walked all the way out of the village and onto the country road that led to her home. He saw her outside with her mother and quickened his pace, but he also noticed Alaezdar plowing Tharn’s field across from her home.

  Alaezdar saw Rivlok as well, and made no acknowledgement, but he stopped to watch. Rivlok stopped to talk to Aaelie’s mother while she hung up the clothes on the line. Alaezdar could not tell what they were saying, but he watched as they both went inside. After a few moments Rivlok came out holding Aaelie’s hand and leading her towards the southern side of the vale near the river and into the forest.

  Rivlok turned and saw that Alaezdar had stopped his ox and was watching them as they began to run. Rivlok smiled, boasting, and waved to him as they ran towards the forest. Aaelie followed, still holding Rivlok’s hand, but she blew a kiss to Alaezdar with her free hand and finished with a loving wave and smile as the two of them disappeared into the woods.

  Alaezdar laughed to himself. He still felt awkward after the incident that he’d just experienced, but he waved back just the same. Aaelie did not see his return wave, but he smiled at her. It was just like her to be so forgiving and to be flirting with him while she held another man’s hand.

  When he first came to Valewood, it was Aaelie who had first embraced him in friendship. She took him by the hand, keeping him close, and introduced him to what seemed to Alaezdar to be everybody in the village. Rivlok seemed to hate every minute of it and he made certain that he was never a few feet away during Aaelie’s introductions.

  Alaezdar rested on his plow, still deep in thought, when Tharn walked up behind him.

  “Alaezdar, you don’t have to work. After this little incident, I think you need a break. Why don’t you come inside?”

  Alaezdar said nothing, but unhitched the ox from the harness. He followed Tharn back to his cottage, feeling a bit apprehensive, though, as he walked past the ox and patted it’s head.

  “Where did you say you were from, Alaezdar?” Tharn asked as he reached the steps of his large ranch house. He knew he had asked before, but he now thought the question needed further probing to confirm some of his suspicions after this morning’s incident.

  “I was raised in the village of Hyronael, where my father raised me, until I left home.”

  “So your father was a farmer?”

  “No, my father is a mage. You probably have heard of him. He is well known as Valvektor-Sor,” Alaezdar answered unenthusiastically, almost with caustic bitterness, as he spit the words into the air.

  Tharn let the door close while looking quizzically at Alaezdar.

  “I have heard of him, though I haven’t heard of him since I was in the service of King Toron II for the Kingdom of Triel. Is your father still alive?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “Come on into the kitchen,” Tharn said and he motioned Alaezdar to follow.

  Alaezdar walked straight into the dining area and sat down at the table where a sandwich and fresh strawberries were already neatly assembled at one setting.

  Tharn reached the table, sat down looked intently over at his young friend.

  “Now I wouldn’t have figured you to be the son of a great mage. In fact, I would have laid down my life that you were simply the son of a lifelong farmer.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Alaezdar said and took a bite out of his sandwich.

  “No. You misunderstand, I am far from disappointed. You see I knew Valvektor-Sor. Though it was many years ago, and long before I retired and created this settlement, I served with him on a mission. I was serving the Kingdom of Triel upon the Kingship Swordfist. Now, I will have you know I was not a sailor, but a soldier in charge of the detachment of warriors on the mission. Valvektor-Sor at the time was the king’s advisor and the king sent him as his proxy. He and I were both younger then, though it really wasn’t that long ago, it seems,” Tharn paused and smiled. “Though I would guess it was before you were even born.”

  “My father wasn’t much of a father. He wasn’t around long enough to tell me tales of his great magic.”

  It was true that Alaezdar hadn’t seen much of his father until just before reaching manhood. He did indeed love to hear his tales when he was younger, and when his mother was still alive, but he began to despise the tales later on because they were the reason behind his father’s absence and became a source of great jealousy for him. When his Mother died at the hands of a rogue wizard that meant to punish Valvektor-Sor for some mal deed that he suffered at his hands, Alaezdar was sent away to live with his aunt and uncle for safety.

  Growing up with his cousins wasn’t all that bad though. It gave him an outlet of normalcy for they were a normal family, not born to any magical abilities. It did not take long for him to take notice of the talk from his cousins who were running off to the human kingdoms to be soldiers or off to Daevanwood to join the great mercenary guilds. He remembered that when his cousin Dreg left to join the fighting force of the Moonshaed Kingdom, Alaezdar was thirteen. His father had moved him to his cousins’ and he had known Dreg for three years before he left for his enlistment.

  Alaezdar told Tharn that it was with this family that he had lived for four years, until Valvektor-Sor came home with the goal to teach him to be his appr
entice. By this time, Alaezdar had seen three of his cousins leave for duty as swordsmen. They had come back at least a dozen times between them and they told stories of great adventures which, unlike his father’s tales, stuck in Alaezdar’s heart and soul. Thus began his yearning to be a swordsman and nothing else.

  After Alaezdar had finished, he and Tharn sat quietly looking at the walls for many moments before Tharn broke the silence. “Why didn’t you follow the magic, Alaezdar?”

  “Somehow I knew you were going to ask that. The truth is, I don’t get along with my father. He is a cruel man to what little family he has, or had.”

  “How was he cruel?”

  “He tried to force his magic skills upon me in the name of saving the Known Lands. I refused his teachings and eventually he ended up beating me to try to force his will upon me. It really came down to not only my refusal to learn the art, but my refusal to believe that we needed to be strong in magic to save the realm or that we were part of the elven prophecies. To be honest with you, I don’t believe any it.”

  “I don’t believe I agree with you. I think the magic in this realm can be used to prevent horrible things from happening. Things that are supposed to be locked down, events like the Time Keep opening up and spitting out strange beings such as that evil flaming witch, Fyaa. I find it odd that magic is weakening when it seems that magic could possibly be the only thing to rid this land of the likes of her.”

  “Possibly, but with the right weapons and with brave men we could defeat her without magic. Magic is too dangerous a weapon to have around for it can also be used against the forces of good.”