Happy Reading
-EW-
Chapter 7
It had been several hours since Sir Olan and his father had come and quietly woke Galen.
Orin had placed his finger to his mouth hushing a loudly protesting Galen and pointed to his
mother’s room. Galen had stopped complaining immediately realizing that his father’s actions
had suggested secrecy. As the three men made their way out to the barn, Galen noticed that his
father was carrying a large, lumpy bundle. When questioned about the bundle his only response
had been, “Patience my son, patience.” Galen knew better than to press the issue but he gave the
bundle more than one passing look as they loaded the horses.
The snowstorm had dissipated throughout the early hours of the morning allowing the
rays from the rising sun to sparkle across the snowy landscape in a kaleidoscope of colors. The
rooster crowed from his precarious perch atop the barn informing the inhabitants of the farm it
was time to begin the day. Inside the barn Galen chuckled to himself as he heard Old Red’s
proud call. The old rooster would swell up and pout when he realized someone had gotten up
without his help.
“Before you saddle Mercury, Galen,” said Orin bringing Galen from his amusement.
“There’s a few things I’d like to give you.”
Galen’s father sat down on a nearby bale of straw and untied the bindings of the bundle
and Galen’s eyes widened into milk saucers as his father pulled out a shiny tunic of chain mail
and a pair of thick, leather bracers.
“Place the tunic over your shirt and under your coat. The mail will keep most glancing
blows from hurting you but it won’t stop an arrow or axe blade. Wear the bracers over your
gloves. Go ahead and put them on.” Said Orin as he tossed the armor at Galen who staggered
slightly at its weight.
Removing his coat Galen then slid into the heavy mail and as it settled across his broad
shoulders the weight spread itself out. Galen made a few wide circles with his arms and was
shocked that the mail didn’t hamper him or slow him down.
“What is this stuff father?” Questioned Galen as he examined the shiny material.
“It’s adamantite.” Answered Orin as he reached back into the bag. “I found it in a crag
wurm’s den along with this.” Finished the ranger as he drew forth a broadsword and scabbard.
“It’s nothing fancy but it is well made.” Orin stated as Galen drew the shiny blade from
the scabbard. “I’ve been saving them for you for when you set out on your own. It’s important
for a young man to learn how to wield a sword and the disciplines that go with it and no one is
better on both accounts then your uncle.”
“And the first thing one learns is that the sword is a weapon, not a toy and that it is only
drawn in defense of yourself and the ones you have sworn to protect. Not to play pirate.”
Scolded Sir Olan.
Galen immediately stopped the blade halfway through its swashbuckling figure eight and
sheathed the sword.
“Sorry Uncle.” Apologized Galen, his face crimson with embarrassment.
“Now get the rest of your gear ready. I want to leave as soon as possible.” Ordered Sir
Olan as Galen jumped to obey.
“What do you think Olan?” asked Orin.
“I think that we’ll head out to the east and make for Roughstock. See if there’s been any
gorthin activity and then circle to the north on our way back to Stoneheart.” Replied Olan.
“That’s not what I meant. What do you think about the boy?” Questioned Orin. “Other
than this encounter with the gorthin Galen has never been in any kind of danger and you and I
both know what kind of dangers are on the road.”
“I watched Galen’s encounter with the gorthin from afar and his dealings with the
wolves. Both times when he had no option left Galen faced his adversaries with calm and
determination and he showed great resourcefulness and duty when he built the litter to carry the
gorthin’s body back to the village.” Answered the knight truthfully.
“Don’t worry Orin, you and Anna have raised Galen to be a good man. Besides he seems
to have your natural ability at weapon skills. He nearly bested me at the quarterstaff.”
“He is good isn’t he?” Boasted Orin with fatherly pride. “Although I could never best
you with the sword. That’s why I gave Galen my old broadsword, so he could be taught by the
best while you two are out on the road. I just have this feeling that its important for the boy to
learn the ways of the sword.”
“This feeling, does it have anything to with the Dream?” Asked Olan as he finished
saddling Blade.
“Yes,” answered Orin with a slight whisper of resentment.
There was no need for Orin to explain the dream to Olan. The night Galen had been born
Orin had a dream where he saw his son with his back to the Monastery of Everwatch and was
walking away from the citadel towards a sword bathed in a blue light. Orin had the same dream
every year on Galen’s birthday. The dream always brought mixed emotions for the proud ranger
who, although grateful that something special was in store for his son, had believed any son of
his would follow the family tradition of joining the knighthood.
“It is possible that Galen may be the one, Orin. He may be the next Champion of
Everwatch and to wield Heaven’s Justice.” Stated Olan to his brooding brother. “We could test
him like we did in the house with Light Bringer. Although where Light Bringer’s task is done
and can no longer be taken into battle and is little more than a family heirloom, Heaven’s Justice
has yet to find its owner and will destroy anyone that would try to touch it let alone wield it in
battle.”
“Since you put it in such cheerful terms I think we’ll just let the Savior play things out his
way.” Smiled Orin. “Bring my boy back safe and trained not hurt himself with that over grown
skinning knife. When you get back I’ll have organized the village into some order of defense.”
“I’ll watch out for the both of us, besides I’m fearful of what my wife would do to me if
something happened to her favorite nephew, and I guarantee that Galen will be able to best you
when I have finished training him. Besides unlike you, he at least knows which end of the
weapon to hold brother.” Joked Sir Olan as he smacked his younger brother lightheartedly on
the back.
“I always figured that the Savior gave me these two extremely deadly hands so that I had
no use of anything else. Perhaps you need a reminder dear Brother.” Orin lunged for his older
and more stoic brother and placed Olan in a deadly choke hold.
Olan broke the hold easily since Orin’s grip had been slack since he wasn’t really trying to hurt
his brother and the two locked up like a pair wrestlers at the village fair and began to dance
around the barn while trying to get the best of the each other. By the time Galen had returned
with a packed and anxious Mercury, his father had gotten Olan in a arm lock and was making the
knight cry, “Uncle.”
“I thought you were in a hurry, Uncle?” Grinned Galen as the two older men looked
sheepishly at the young man.
“Just because I took it easy on your father and let him win doesn’t I’ll be easy on you
now get your rear on that horse and let’s be off!” Barked Olan.
A few moments later Galen was following his uncle down the lane towards Stoneheart, as
he spared one last look back at the farmstead he saw his mother and father standing in the barn
yard. Galen smiled and waved good-bye, his mother waved once and then was led away by Orin
into the house.
Galen turned back around and surveyed the scenery, although he had walked and rode
this lane many times it never seemed as bright and alive as it did today. Breathing the crisp
winter air seemed to revitalize his senses and a smile spread across his face as he began to
whistle a tune.
Suddenly all the air exploded from Galen’s lungs and he found himself lying on his back
in the lane. Looking up he saw Olan replace his heavy spear back into its holster on the saddle.
“What was that for Olan?” Wheezed Galen as he got to his feet and remounted Mercury.
“I swore to your father that I would make you a warrior. Lesson number one, always be
alert. It’s okay to appreciate your surroundings but always be aware of everything around you.”
Answered Olan in a lecturing voice.
“You could have broken a rib with that thing.” Grumbled Galen.
“Not likely with your chain tunic. Hopefully you are a quick learner and another episode
won’t be necessary. Now close your eyes and tell me about our surroundings.”
For the rest of the day Olan would quiz Galen about the land the passed through as they
rode. How many blackbirds were in a certain pine tree or how many stones were piled at the foot
of the last road marker. When they broke for camp Galen was able to close his eyes and recount
all the tree types in their campsite.
That evening while they ate their meal of dried venison and crusty bread Sir Olan
renewed his quizzing of Galen.
“Galen, what did you notice about that narrow part of the trail when we had to squeeze
single file between the scattered boulders? Think carefully.”
` “Well,” began Galen thoughtfully. “If I was hunting I would use that spot to set an
ambush for my quarry. The narrowness of the path would force the prey where I wanted him
while the higher ground would allow me to attack from above with bow or spear and out of reach
of retaliation.”
“Impressive, you recognized the bottle neck which can be used by a smaller number of
men to defend against a larger force and you saw the advantage of attacking from above. Very
good, Galen. You appear to have the eye of a tactician.” Sir Olan stated admiringly. “But what else
did you see?”
Galen replayed the time at the boulders checking for anything out of the ordinary. “I did
notice a couple of quick movements. One on top of the last boulder we passed and two shadows
that seemed to long for the time of day about the middle of the bottle neck, but I thought they
were just rabbits or hawk we spooked.” Answered Galen truthfully.
“Those movements and shadows were goblin scouts and they are very good at not being
seen when they don’t want to be. The gorthins sometimes employ goblins and other minor
creatures as scouts and foragers for their armies considering it beneath gorthin warriors whose
only reason for existing is battle and mating.” Said the veteran knight as he drew his sword and
slid a whetstone up and down its length.
“Why didn’t they attack us Uncle?” Asked a confused Galen. “I mean, aren’t goblins
ruthless killers?”
“Only in large groups or when riding their worgs, an overly large wolf they use as
mounts. The rest of the time they are extremely cowardly, besides no goblin would attack a
Knight of Everwatch without being prodded by a creature they fear more than us knights. No,
those three will return to whatever evil master they serve and report what they saw or they will
disappear into the mountains and thank what evil god they pray to that they escaped with their
mottled skin intact.” Replied the veteran knight as he briskly rubbed the stone across a
particularly stubborn burr.
Galen stuffed the last bite of bread he had been thoughtfully munching on into his mouth
and drew the plain blade his father had given him. Galen took his own whetstone from his coin
pouch and absently ran it across his worn sword as he stared at Sir Olan’s sword as if seeing it for
the first time.
“Your sword is just like Light Bringer, Uncle. Is it a Sword of Heaven too?”
“Not quite Galen, although every sword carried by a knight is blessed when he enters
knighthood none are the fabled swords of heaven.” Sir Olan chuckled as he slid the razor sharp
blade gently back into its scabbard. “But you are right my sword is an exact replica of your
grandfather’s holy weapon. The Knights of Everwatch are led by the Council of Seven,
consisting of two members of the knighthood, two members of the rangers, two high ranking
priests, and the head father of the church. All seven members bear a replica of Light Bringer as
both a symbol of their rank and to show tribute to Arin and his sacrifice.”
“I promised your father that I would teach you how to use that sword without
endangering yourself and everybody around you.” Olan preached as he was digging through his
saddle bag.
“Wrap this around the blade of that antique your father gave you,” ordered Olan as he
handed the young man a strip of padded cloth.
“It will tie around the sword’s cross guard after you get it wrapped.” Olan advised after
watching Galen fumble with the thick cloth for a few moments.
Tying the last knot, Galen then held the sword out for inspection. “What’s this for?”
“It’s a padded cloth or sheath that allows warriors to spar with one another without fear
of mortal blows. Now I want you to attack me so I can better judge what we need to work on.”
Galen took a few light swings to get the balance of the awkwardly padded sword. “Not
to bad,” he thought.
He then took two quick steps towards the waiting knight and launched a powerful overhand
chop. Olan easily sidestepped the clumsy attack and swatted a stinging smack to Galen’s rump as
he stumbled by. Red-faced from the indignant hit, Galen exploded into a frenzy of side to side
swipes that would have severed Olan in half, but the experienced fighter danced back out of Galen’s
onslaught, sidestepped, and swung a high backhand that caught Galen square on the shoulders and
knocked him face first into the dirt.
“Do not let emotions guide your fighting instincts. You must remain calm and in control
of yourself. Get up and let’s try it again, but don’t squeeze the hilt so tight instead keep the sword
in a firm grip with the blade slightly angled at your opponent.” Olan advised.
Picking up his dropped sword, Galen stood up, squared his body and took a deep breath
to clear his mind. He then gripped the rough leather hilt and leveled the tip of the sword at his
uncle's armored chest. He let himself fall into the now that his father had taught him to use when
fighting with his staff.
The sword became an extension of his body and reacted instantly to block a left slash
aimed at his hip. His confidence boosted by the block Galen took the offensive and sent an angled
backhand up across Olan’s torso. Olan had to jump backwards from the padded blade to avoid
the vicious slice.
“Very good, Galen.” stated Olan, “You surprised me with the block and the quick
counterattack. I’m amazed, it was like fighting two different opponents.”
“I used a clearing of the mind technique that father taught me. It worked when he taught
me to use the staff and the bow so I figured I’d try it with the sword.”
“It is a technique the Knights of Everwatch use and it will work with all weapons. It
allows the wielder to focus his mind on the situation at hand and bury all other outside
distractions. Now let’s try it again.” As the last syllable came from the knight’s mouth he
launched a dizzying spinning attack that Galen neatly parried and answered with side to side
swipes and spearing lunge aimed again at Olan’s chest. Olan dodged the swings, sidestepped the
lunge, and dropped to a crouch sweeping at Galen’s legs with his own. Galen went with the fall
and rolled to the side and brought his blade up to deflect Olan’s downward slice that the knight
had aimed at Galen’s head.
The two warriors separated and began to circle one another looking for an opening when
there was a scream followed by a loud roar from nearby in the woods.
“Someone is in trouble Galen. That first scream was an outcry of pain and the second
sounded like a outraged bear. Grab your bow and let’s go investigate.” Commanded Olan.
The two mounted their horses and rode towards the area where they thought the cries had
come from and found the source to be a mountain of man and a very beautiful woman being
attacked by several goblins and their overgrown wolves. The situation didn’t bode well for the
man and woman as they been had cornered in a long box ravine where a few goblins were
eagerly pacing their savage mounts across the ravine’s narrow entrance, sealing off their prey’s
escape route. A particularly squat and ugly goblin was barking orders at the rest of the hunting
party as they tried to swarm the man and woman to hide the group of archers sneaking around
the ravine lip to pin down the cornered humans.
The trapped man roared in challenge at his enemies as he swung a huge double-bladed
battleaxe in wide circles to keep the smelly monsters at bay. Like a dancer, the woman moved in
complete harmony with the man’s great swings, stepping in and stabbing at any goblin that
managed to slip in under the axes swooping arch. Neither knew about the archers who were
silently getting into position above them.
“She’s beautiful,” Galen whispered in awe. “We must save them!” The impassioned
Stoutheart spurred Mercury down the hill but Olan rode Blade into his path and stopped Galen’s
head first rush into death.
“Galen, There’s twenty or so goblins down there and they are riding battle-trained worgs,
and let’s not forget the seven archers that would riddle us with arrows before we could reach the
pair. Now I want you to dismount and move up the opposite side of the ravine and find a good
position where you can pick off those archers when I give the signal.”
“Okay, Olan, but what is the signal?” Asked Galen.
“When you see me start to charge fire at will and keep them from shooting down into the
ravine.” Explained Olan. “Get moving. I’m going to count to one hundred before I start my
charge.
Galen dismounted and tied Mercury to a nearby tree. The proud horse whinnied in
disappointment and Galen patted him softly on the nose. “Not this time Mercury. You’d make to
big of a target, but I’ll be right back for you okay?” The gelding snorted in agreement.
Olan placed a gauntleted hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Good luck Galen. Said the
knight as he patted Galen reassuringly on the shoulder. “Now go and be careful.”
Galen crept up to the ravine’s edge taking care to use the terrain to hide his movements
from the goblins who were so intent on their trapped prey that they were oblivious to the human
and his deadly bow mere yards away. Galen notched an arrow and took careful aim at the archer
closest to him and patiently awaited Olan’s signal.
He didn’t have to wait long as Olan exploded from the trees and charged into the
unsuspecting rearguard of the goblin group pinning a worg to the ground and knocking the
goblin from its mount where it landed with its neck and head bent at an unnatural angle. The
archers fired their horn bows at the knight but his shield and heavy armor deflected their shots as
Blade caved in the skull of another worg with his powerful steel shod hooves.
Galen released the tense bowstring and the arrow raced across the ravine slamming into
the surprised goblin with such force that it pinned the pitiful creature to the tree it had been
standing by. A second goblin fell, an arrow sunk up to its fletching in its scrawny chest, before
the remaining archers could dive for cover. Galen could hear them asking each other where the
arrows were coming from in their guttural voices.
One had been looking Galen’s way when he had fired his last shot and was trying to
communicate the human’s position to his fellow archers who weren’t understanding. The
frustrated goblin with typical goblin common sense stepped out from the boulder he was hiding
behind and pointed at Galen screaming, “Him there! Shoot! Shoo...”
The goblin’s cries turned into a bubbling gurgle as Galen pierced his skinny neck with a
well placed shot. Galen watched in amazement as three of the goblins ran off into the forest
away from the battle, but he had to duck for cover as the remaining four sent a deadly rain of
arrows his way and didn’t see the three turn towards his side of the ravine when they reached the
tree line.
Down below the man and woman didn’t realize that they had rescuers until Blade nearly
trampled them. The man, who stood as tall As Olan’s warhorse, swung his axe at the horse and
rider but managed to deflect it into the ground when the knight’s lance pierced the side of a worg
in mid-leap that would have landed atop the lithe woman. The giant touched his forehead in a sign
of respect to the Olan who returned the salute and the three formed a rough circle and continued to
battle the diminishing goblin force.
Above on the ridge with two well-placed shots Galen dispatched the two remaining
goblins. Congratulating himself on a job well done Galen turned his attention to the battle below
just in time to see the last riderless worg run, with its tail tucked between its legs, off into the
forest.
“The archers are gone Uncle,” reported Galen thinking the battle over. “All except three
that hid in the ...” His sentence was cut off abruptly as he ducked to avoid the stone chips
dislodged by an arrow that slammed into the boulder he was leaning on.
“What was that Galen?” Questioned Olan as he and the two mysterious warriors checked
the fallen enemy to make sure that they were truly dead .
When Galen didn’t answer the knight worriedly scanned the ridge looking for his nephew.
“Galen!?” Challenged Olan to the ridge.
The only reply was sudden goblin war cries and an arrow fired at the well armored knight
that Olan managed to deflect harmlessly into the dirt with his shield into the dirt at his feet.
Galen rolled to his feet as the first goblin lunged at him with a crude bone -tipped spear
that he managed to block with a wild swing of his bow as he desperately tried to draw his sword.
A second goblin rushed at Galen with a heavy spiked club aimed at the struggling young man’s
defenseless head. With a dramatic whoosh Galen’s sword flew from its scabbard in a wide arc
nearly cleaving the club wielding attacker in two. Quickly regaining his balance, Galen
frantically whipped his two weapons back and forth to keep the attackers at bay while he slowly
made his way to the cliff’s edge to call for help.
Dipping his left shoulder back towards the cliff Galen half-turned to give his two
adversaries less of a target to attack not realizing that he had made himself more visible to the
goblin archer that had flanked around to Galen’s left for a better shot. The inexperienced fighter
saw his mistake a second to late as he caught the movement of the bowman releasing his horn
bow. Pain blossomed in his left shoulder causing Galen to drop his bow and knocking him back
a step which saved his life as the spear wielding goblin lunged forward but came up short as the
spear skipped harmlessly off Galen’s well-made chainmail. Gritting his teeth against the pain,
Galen pinned the spear to his side with his injured arm holding the goblin temporarily in place as
it tried futility to free its weapon from the stronger human’s grip.
So intent on freeing its crude weapon, the goblin didn’t see Galen’s powerful roundhouse
until the sword’s crossguard caved in its warty, green face. Instantly letting go of the spear the
goblin clutched his broken face with his leathery hands in a futile attempt to stem the blood
flowing from its destroyed nose. Screeching in pain goblin stumbled into the path of his fellow
archer’s next arrow and fell silent to the ground.
The club wielding attacker having enough sense to let Galen’s wound tire the warrior out
was content to play a defensive game coming in close, feinting a swing, and then skittering back
to safety before Galen’s counterattack could catch him.
“If something doesn’t happen soon I’m going to start either looking like Mother’s pin
cushion or have my brains bashed out by an over grown toad.” Galen grunted to himself, a touch
of worry at the edge of his voice.
Down in the canyon the three warriors could see the young man’s situation deteriorating
rapidly. Luck had shone briefly on Galen as the spear wielding goblin had accidentally blocked
the archers last shot, but the goblin bowman showing typical care for his kind shrugged his
shoulders and took aim again.
Sir Olan spurred Blade back towards the canyon entrance knowing he would never beat
the goblin’s arrow but having to try anyways, but the woman’s voice gave him pause and the
Knight of Everwatch looked back over his shoulder.
“Ox, up!” Yelled the young woman as she charged the giant at a full run. The big man
turned to face her, placed his hands together, and spread his feet to brace for her impact.
The knight reined Blade in as he stared in disbelief at the events unfolding in front of
him. “She’s crazy, it’s at least fifteen feet to the top of that ridge!” Sir Olan said in amazement.
The woman ran into the giants waiting improvised stirrup and with a powerful flex of
bulging muscles he launched her like a living projectile towards the goblin archer. Landing with
a graceful roll that brought her within inches of the surprised goblin who had just enough time to
blink stupidly as she drove her short swords deep into his spindly chest before he died.
Galen was aware that something had happened to the archer when no more arrows sliced
the air around him, but he had no time to see what as the remaining goblin sensing his own
inevitable death became determined to take Galen with him to the afterlife. The two traded
blows with neither gaining the upper hand until Galen’s foot slipped on some rocks and he fell to
one knee. The goblin reveling in the unexpected turn of events stepped in front of the downed
fighter and raised his weapon high with both hands to deliver the killing blow. He didn’t realize
Galen’s fall had been a ruse to take him off guard until he felt the cold steel of the human’s
sword slide deep into his stomach. Galen retracted the blade and the fire of the bloodlust ebbed from
the goblin’s yellow, feline eyes as the monster slowly fell lifeless at Galen’s feet.
Panting to regain his breath, Galen tried to stand but pain lanced through his left shoulder
down to his fingers as the adrenaline from the fight wore off and he stumbled back to his knees.
Reaching up to his injured shoulder with his good hand he inspected the wound. The arrow was
deep but it had not passed through to the other side. Gritting his teeth to ward off the pain, Galen
grabbed the shaft of the arrow and tried to remove it but began to swoon as the waves of pain
overwhelmed him.
“You dropped this.” The young woman said as she held Galen’s fallen longbow out to
him.
Galen opened his eyes and stared in amazement at the speaker before he passed out from
loss of blood and pain he knew that he had seen an angel. A beautiful angel with chin-length
autumn-brown hair that framed a heart-shaped face and large, almond-shaped eyes that seemed
to swallow his heart and soul.
Chapter 8
Night had blanketed the land when Galen awoke next to a blazing fire wrapped in his bedroll.
Gingerly he touched his left shoulder and was shocked to not only find that the arrow had
been removed, but that the wound had been dressed and was only causing him the slightest bit of
discomfort.
“How long have I been out Uncle?” Questioned Galen as he slowly tried to rise to a
sitting position. His arms and chest ached fiercely from the battle with the goblins and he slipped
back to the warmth of his blankets.
“A few hours.” Answered Olan as he poked at the fire. “In your battle with the goblins,
the arrow was severely jostled and tore a large ugly hole that bled quite freely and caused you to
pass out from loss of blood.”
“Do you always ache so badly after a battle?” Galen complained as he massaged his
forearms.
“No, only until your arms get use to the new movements of swordplay. Until then you will
have to do the same thing as your father and I did as squires.” Galen looked at his uncle
with anticipation of some secret knightly ability like meditation or some kind of self-healing, but
he dropped his head back onto his bedroll with a groan when his uncle answered with a single
word. “Suffer.”
A light melodious laughter floated from the darkness at the edge of the campsite as Sir
Olan gave his scholarly advice. Galen peered into the darkness trying to discern the source of the
enchanting sound. Swaying out of the shadows was the angel from his dreams. Galen’s breath
caught in his chest as he studied the beguiling valkyrie. She was the skilled and deadly fighter
that had saved his life a few hours ago, but she also possessed a beauty that would so enrapture a
man that he would willingly throw himself against a sea of enemies to gain her favor.
She wore hardened leather armor to protect her from enemy blades and a heavy gray
cloak to keep out the elements but neither could hide her graceful athletic muscles or her shapely
curves. Her rosebud lips parted in a wide perfect smile that seemed to tell Galen that all was
right in the world and he found himself returning the smile as she handed him a steaming cup of
tea.
“Your uncle said that was your first battle, you fought very well and against great odds to
save two strangers.” She stated while sitting down across the fire from Galen. “Ox and I are
deeply in your dept. I, Mellay Zanathrith, am deeply in your dept.” She finished staring at Galen
intently and the young man again felt himself drawn into those heart swallowing pools.
The giant warrior moved from his place by the fire to stand next to Mellay. This must be
Ox thought Galen as he eyed the imposing warrior from head to toe. Where Mellay was athletic
and shapely, Ox looked like he was carved from granite. A particularly large, solid chunk of
granite. He was a full head and a half taller than Galen and wore an elaborate double-bladed axe
strapped to his wide back and a thick leather harness crisscrossed his broad chest from which
hung a varied assortment of deadly weapons.
Ox placed his immensely muscled arms at his side and bowed slightly to Galen in a sign
of respect. Galen acknowledged the bow with a nod and watched in curiosity as Mellay and Ox
appeared to communicate with their hands.
After a final nod of Ox’s clean shaven head the two conspirators turned their attention
back to the injured Galen. Mel and Ox each moved to Galen’s side and squatted down across
from one another. Mellay drew a tiny silver knife from a hidden sheath on her leg and made a
tiny incision on her palm. She then handed Ox the tiny knife and he then repeated the procedure
before returning it Mellay. They then clasped their bloody hands above the nervous Galen who
gave his uncle a worried glance. Olan watched intently but gave no sign to Galen about what he
should do.
Mellay’s somber voice broke the uncomfortable silence, “Our blood is your blood until
our debt is paid.” She then released Ox’s palm and gently clasped Galen’s hand with her own.
Once again the young Stoutheart found himself lost in the warmth of Mellay’s almond-shaped
eyes.
A loud coughing noise withdrew Galen from the depths of oblivion with an abrupt start.
Shaking his head to clear the fog from it, Galen reluctantly tore his gaze from the exotic Mellay
and felt as if a part of him had stayed with her before turning his attention to his uncle who had
coughed again.
“Are you okay Olan?” Asked a concerned Galen.
“Yes. I just swallowed some water wrong. My lady, good sir, if you would excuse us I
would like a word with my nephew.” Stated the knight.
“Of course,” answered Mellay. “Ox and I will walk the perimeter of the camp to make
sure none of the goblins are still lurking about.”
Olan waited until the two desert warriors were out of sight before he turned to his nephew
and spoke. “Has your father ever told you of the Nabukians, Galen?”
Galen thought for a moment then answered, “Only that they live in the Mol’ Tan desert
and that their skin is as dark as their hearts.” Galen remembered Mellay and Ox’s dark skin and
strange accents and realized where Olan was going with this. Surely Mellay could not be one of
the demon lovers from that hostile desert. He felt a dagger of despair begin to pierce his heart.
Sensing his nephew’s rising despair Olan began to explain some of the nabukian culture
to the inexperienced young man. “Yes, the Nabukians are a race of humans that have bonded
with demons to become more powerful than the average man, but that power comes with a high
cost. When a man or woman comes of age they can go before their dark god Nabuk and beseech
him to grant them power and in exchange for their soul a minor demon will be absorbed into the
person’s spirit giving them the gift of the Dark Magic.”
“Dark Magic? What’s that?” Asked Galen intrigued. His only experience with magic
had been when the illusionists arrived with the summer caravans and by the time he was eight he
had figured out their sleight of hand tricks.
“Dark Magic is real and very dangerous. A Dark Magic mage can use the magic to do
something as simple as boiling water for tea to something as grand as raising an army of the
dead.”
Thoughts of the beautiful Mellay consorting with demons and leading a vast army of the
undead sent shivers down Galen’s spine.
“Do not worry, Galen, not all of them are evil. Among the Nabukians there are people
who rebel against the demonic ways of the priests and mages and commit crimes against Nabuk.
They are gathered up and thrown into the Pits of Atonement where they are forced to fight one
another in the Arena of Salvation for the enjoyment of Nabuk and nabukian royalty.”
“The men and women who fight in that unholy place are called the Mortae Un, which
means the dead ones in Noirda Vordokken -the black language. When one Mortae Un is hurt
while protecting another a Plasmurak Oathrah - a blood oath, is sworn to the injured Mortae Un.
That was what Mellay and Ox swore to you, and it is not to be taken lightly. They will follow
you wherever you go, into any kind of danger, and even into death till the debt is repaid.”
Stated Sir Olan somberly. “You now are responsible for them as much as you are for yourself.”
There was a rustling at the edge of the camp as Mellay and Ox returned from their patrol.
“We saw no sign of the goblins or their canine mounts, but we did happen to see a group
of well-fed conies.” Mellay finished as a grinning Ox held out three fat rabbits for them to
admire.
“They will make a pleasant change from our dried meat and hard bread,” said Sir Olan
tipping his head slightly and smiled widely at the successful hunters. “Don’t you agree Galen?”
“Yes Uncle,” mumbled Galen as he hid his blushing face from the dark eyes of the
Nabukians. The alien information his uncle had just given him fresh in his mind.
Mellay gazed intently at Galen who was trying by now to disappear into his blankets.
Mellay used her hands again to talk to Ox who signed back and then took the rabbits off to the
side of the camp to prepare them for supper. The dark eyed beauty then sauntered over next to
Galen and sat down.
She observed the young man with an amused smile on her face as he squirmed under her
watchful gaze. At last she spoke, addressing both Galen and Sir Olan. “By the way he tries to
burrow into his blankets like a Mol’ tan sand dwelver you must have explained our nabukian
heritage good knight.”
Galen did not know what a Mol’ tan sand dwelver was but he figured it was not a
flattering comparison so he quit trying burrow into his blankets and sat up and matched gazes
with the intriguing young woman. “I was just trying to get comfortable.” He lied.
Mellay smiled her intoxicating smile at Galen and made him turn an even deeper shade of
red. “Has your uncle told you of the Mortae Un?’
Galen nodded a yes not trusting his suddenly thickened tongue to speak clearly.
“Not all of the Mortae Un are religious rebels some of us are victims of the nobility and
their influence on the satrap. What better way to get rid of a troublesome enemy than to throw
then into the Pits of Atonement from which there is no escape.” Mellay explained the smile and
warmth gone from her face and replaced with a cold fire of intensity as she seemed to look inside
herself as she spoke.
“What is a satrap?” Asked an intrigued Galen. “And why does he care what the nobility
thinks?” The young man’s embarrassment fled as he was drawn into what was obviously Mellay
past.
Mellay looked at Galen as she spoke but her eyes showed that she was deep in a painful
memory, “The satrap is the leader of a city in the Mol’ tan desert. He or she is picked by the
nobles of that city so they are not likely to offend the people that put them in power. My father is
a wealthy merchant and is on occasion asked to attend the satrap’s court on religious holidays.
On one of these visits he took me with him where I attracted the attention of a noble of the
second most powerful family in the city. His name was O’bot Santurk and he was several years
my elder. He told the satrap that he fancied me and the satrap in turn informed my father of
O’bot intention of having me as a bride.” Mellay paused to catch her breath and to steal her
nerves as the painful thoughts flowed from the recesses where her mind had banished them.
“Of course my father saw this as a great honor, but I saw it as a prison. I had always
believed that someday I would fall in love and marry for the right reasons. My father would
hear nothing of it and sent me immediately to O’bot’s household. Two days later we were wed
and that night he tried to consummate our marriage. Something inside of me snapped and I
fought him. I kneed him in the groin and when he rolled off of me I grabbed a knife that he had
been using to peel fruit and I cut him from his ear all the way to the corner of his mouth.
The guards easily over whelmed me and I was thrown in the pits where O’bot had hoped
that the criminals would have their way with me, and they probably would have if Ox had not
stepped in and protected me. He taught me to fight and how to survive even when all seems lost.
I owe him more than words can say.” Mellay gave Ox a fond look as he approached with what
Galen thought smelled like the best rabbit stew ever.
“What’s his story?” Asked Galen. Half out of curiosity and half wondering about the
relationship between the two Nabukians.
Mellay looked to Ox before proceeding. He nodded in consent as he passed around
bowls of the steaming aromatic stew. They devoured their bowls to quiet suddenly growling
bellies before Mellay continued.
“Ox’s full name is Oxuberoth Saktasorath. His mother was a noble and his father was a
career soldier and was away with the army at the time of the birth. As Ox grew it was obvious
that he was of a quick mind and great physique it was just a matter of time before he was taken
into the service of Satrap Mo’ Tok where when he came of age was trained as a bodyguard for
Mo’ Tok’s fifteen children.
Ox was the finest warrior in all of Ashtok, the city Ox and I were from. One night a
assassin stole into the children's chamber intent upon murdering Mo’ Tok’s children. In his
arrogance Ox did not sound the alarm believing he could deal with the assassin by himself, and
he did but not before the killer was able to send a poisoned dagger into the chest of Mo’ Tok’s
youngest daughter.
Mo’ Tok was furious at the overly proud warrior and since Ox had not called out as he
should have the satrap had his tongue removed so he would forever be silent and thrown into the
pits to find his end. Ox survived, saved and trained me, and then the two of us managed to
escape during a revolt of the Mortae Un. I owe him my life and I love him like the big brother
he has become to me.” She patted the giant on the shoulder as she finished and he returned the
show of affection with a warm smile.
“And what of you, Knight of Everwatch? If I’m not mistaken you are a long way from
the monastery?”
“Duty has found me in these wilds. The leader of the knighthood was given a gift by the
Savior in the form of knowledge that the gorthin tribes had gathered to gain an artifact from the
village of Stoneheart that would allow their demon god to enter our world. Ahmah and his
gorthins would then lead a unstoppable force across the kingdom leaving a vast trail of
devastation and sorrow in its wake.”
“So I was sent to Stoneheart to warn them of the gathering against them.” Olan paused to
catch his breath and gave Galen a warning look before finishing.
My brother is a Ranger of Everwatch and a member of the village council in Stoneheart
and he volunteered to lead the defense of the village and I offered take his son, Galen with me and
scout the area for any activity of our enemy and to visit the village of Roughstock to see if they had
noticed any unusual activity.”
Galen looked questionably at Sir Olan wondering why he left out the sword, but he
figured the older experienced knight had his reasons.
“I have never heard of these gorthins are they men or some kind of beast?” Asked
Mellay.
“The gorthins are a race of humanoids that roughly resemble a cross between a bat and a
wolf. All are larger than an average man, extremely savage, and ruthless in battle. Intelligence
wise they are equal with man, some are smarter and some are blessed other ways. Four clans
make up the gorthin nation but only three of the clans pose any threat to the human race. They
are the Warmuhs, the Skylings, and the Morgogs.”
“The Warmuh are the foot soldiers of the gorthins and do most of the clans fighting.
Larger and more muscular than the other clans, the only reason they haven’t dominated the
gorthins is their lack of intellect. They sometimes wear a crude armor made from the scales of a
crag wurm over their chest and back. Warmuhs fight with either sword or axe and never use
bows considering them cowardly. Once their battle fury kicks in they are powerful foes in battle
and only a fatal wound will stop them. The Warmuhs are led by the largest and most powerful
among them, but even he bows to the Blood King.”
“Skylings are the scouts and messengers. They are the only gorthins to have wings and
the ability to fly. Skylings wear no armor and only arm themselves with thick, long bladed
knives, spears, and small axes. We think the reason they don’t carry heavy weapons is because
their bones are hollow to aid them with flight. As far as the historians have figured out there is
no particular reason on how they pick their chief, but all humans that have encounters with the
Skyling chiefs have committed on there being a bit of reckless or insanity in their manner.”
“The most deadly and the smallest of the three clans are the Morgogs, the assassins. They
rarely fight openly in combat but are fierce fighters when engaged. Do not let a Morgog bite you
because they coat their fangs with the venom of the greystone serpent and unless you have an
antidote on your person you will die. They choose their chief by some dark ritual known only to
the Morgogs, but it is rumored that the ritual involves a god of unknown origins.”
“The Knights of Everwatch have been at war with the gorthins for the last several
hundred years, but sixty years ago an ancestor of Galen and mine defeated the gorthins just before
they nearly succeeded in taking over Avolund. The mighty gorthin empire was crushed and
pushed from their homeland in the Blood Forest and scattered into the Blackstone Mountains.”
Finished Sir Olan taking a swig from his waterskin to soothe his parched throat.
Galen digested what his uncle said and couldn’t believe that the winged monster that had
stalked him in the foothills at home could be part of a large, civilized society. It had seemed a
mindless creature bent on having him for dinner. At least the hollow bones explained why the
large creature weighed less than it appeared to.
“Your cause seems noble and just although we would expect no less from the virtuous
knights. Even without the Plasmurak Oathrah Ox and I would be inclined to join you if you
would have us.” Said Mellay, “Our eyes have been opened to many strange and wonderful ideas
as we have moved farther north of our dark homeland. The customs and manners of you
northerners are a welcomed breathe of fresh air compared to the evil and twisted ways of the
Nabukians who only care about themselves and their own self-serving ideas.” Ox nodded his
clean shaven head in agreement with his traveling partner.
“You are welcome to join us. Your companionship and strength at arms would be
welcome on journey. I want to let Galen rest through the night although the skill you showed on
mending his wounds was outstanding. Even our healers at the monastery would be hard pressed
to do a better job.” Complimented Sir Olan. “We will leave at first light and resume our trip to
Roughstock. It will take another two days by horseback...”
“But Uncle, they don’t have any horses. We will have to walk or they will fall behind.”
Interrupted Galen.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that Galen,” teased Mellay playfully. She
pursed her lips at whistled a low then high tune and minutes later two horses boldly strode into
the pine tree clearing. “We hid them in these pointy trees while we led the goblins away.”
One of the horses was similar to Sir Olan’s charger, but the other resembled no horse that
Galen had ever seen. It was three hands shorter than Galen’s Mercury and was the color of
virgin snow. Galen could tell by the horse’s muscle tone under its shiny coat and deep chest that
it was a runner and probably a very fast runner at that.
“Her name is Dahknee, it means dancer in old Nabukian. She was a gift from my father
when I turned sixteen four years ago. We used to ride the sand dunes for hours when I had no
duties to perform for my family. Ox helped me free her before we fled the city.” Mellay
responded with pride to Galen’s approving look. “She is free-spirited and a bit wild but loyal to
a fault. I once fell from her back while riding in the Sand Swamp and fell into quicksand.
Dahknee shook the reins over her head and laid them out for me to grab, and then pulled me to
safety.” Mellay looked the horse over lovingly as she talked and patted her neck gently before
she removed her blanket roll from the horse’s back.
“She is a beautiful horse, befitting of a beautiful mistress,” Galen dared. Mellay
rewarded his boldness with a warm smile before settling into her blankets.
“I going to go check the horses pickets and then I’ll take the first watch,” Sir Olan
announced standing and stretching stiff muscles from sitting. “At my age sitting on the cold hard
ground isn’t as comfortable as it used to be, besides if it gets any mushier around her I’ll have to
dribble milk and sugar over my words when I talk.”
“I was...I just...never mind!” Exclaimed a flustered and embarrassed Galen.
Olan and Mellay laughed at the stammering young man as he struggled to defend himself
and if the firelight wasn’t playing tricks on his eyes Ox, was laughing to as his shoulders
bounced silently up and down. “Fine,” Uttered Galen in defeat, “I’m going to sleep.” He then
covered his head and rolled on his side away from the fire.
Knowing what she was beginning to feel in her heart must be mirrored in Galen’s, Mellay
felt sorry for him. “Good night Galen. Thank you for you and your uncle coming to our aid
today. Without you we would have perished.”
His face hidden from view, Galen smiled and then fell asleep.
Chapter 9
The morning sun rose above the eastern peaks of the snowcapped Blackstone Mountains,
bathing the land west of large mountain range in its warm embrace. The birds sang and the
forest animals danced and played, rejoicing in the energy that seems to accompany a late winter
morning.
Galen watched in amusement as two squirrels chattered at a blue jay that was playfully
diving at the frantic squirrels before dodging away at the last second.
“Life use to seem so carefree and simple, all I had to worry about was making sure I had
my chores done, Galen sighed as he tightened Mercury’s saddle. “Now I have so many
responsibilities, worrying about Mellay and Ox because of their oath, training, whether or not
I’m going to die in a battle...It’s all so overwhelming.”
Sir Olan was walking up to help Galen his gear and wanted to make sure the young man’s
shoulder was healing when he overheard Galen doubting himself.
“You did very well yesterday Galen and I believe you will continue to do well and
eventually with time and experience you will. I see the same promise in you that your father and
my old teachers saw in us. You reacted well under pressure, you understand the basics of martial
tactics and how to apply them, and you have a natural affinity for weapons, especially the sword.
If it wasn’t against your father’s wishes I would take you back to the monastery when this is all
over. I haven’t seen a pupil half as suited for the knighthood in the last twenty years as you are.
You just need to believe in yourself.” Sir Olan squeezed his nephew’s shoulder in assurance.
“What do you mean ‘against my father’s wishes’? Why didn’t he send me to the
monastery like you and him to train to be a knight. Did he not think that I might want to be like
him?” Galen asked perplexed.
“It is not that he didn’t want you to follow in his footsteps, on the contrary nothing would
have made him prouder, but on the night you were born Orin had a dream in which a child’s back
is turned to the monastery. In the knighthood we are taught to interpret our dreams. Sometimes
they’re just every day dreams but occasionally the Savior communicates with his followers
through their dreams. This dream has continued to plague Olan every year on your birthday and
even though he tried to convince himself it wasn’t so, even your stubborn father had to admit that
the dream was from the Savior and that your future as a Knight of Everwatch was not meant to
be.” Orin finished sadly as he removed his arm from the pondering young man’s shoulder.
“He believes that there must be something great in store for you and so do I,” stated Olan
then saying nothing else walked away to ready Blade.
“A dream,” thought Galen shaking his head in disbelief. “I was kept from the Knights of
Everwatch because of a dream. I wonder if my dream of that sword has any significance.” He
said and then dismissed the thought with a shrug of his shoulders. Thinking upon the things his
uncle said to him, Galen felt his confidence begin to solidify within him. Smiling, he mounted
Mercury and rode out of the shelter of the snow covered pines and onto the caravan road.
Galen surveyed the hilly countryside, enjoying the energizing early morning air as he
watched a blue-tailed hawk rocket from the limbs of a lush dark green pine and then dive at some
unseen varmint. The hawk returned to its airy perch, its trophy clutched protectively in its
brawny talons. Spying the young man watching him, the territorial bird of prey screeched a
challenge at the watching human.
“I’m just watching, oh great winged hunter,” chuckled Galen, “besides, I have no taste for
field mouse.”
The hawk, as if in understanding, squawked one last time then turned its gray feathered
back away from Galen and eagerly began to devour its breakfast.
Refreshed from his nights rest and with the sun’s warmth slowly lifting the cold of night
and melting away the previous days snowstorm, an energetic Galen was impatient to be back on
the road. A few moments later he was joined by Sir Olan and Ox who seemed refreshed
and in good spirits after Ox’s rabbit stew and a good night’s rest. At least as good as rest as one
can get sleeping on the hard, cold ground wrapped in a blanket and cloak. Except a shivering
Mellay who was mumbling to herself about what kind of god would create such an abomination
as snow while she led Dahknee onto the road.
Galen couldn’t suppress a laugh while he watched an uncomfortable Mellay wrap her
heavy cloak tighter around her chilled body.
“Why are the mornings always so cold?” The desert girl grumbled.
Growing up in the harsh seasons of the foothills of the Blackstone Mountains, Galen
thought this was a beautifully morning and told Mellay so.
“Where I come from the mornings are sultry and warm and we wear smooth silks and
revel in the beauty of the sun and its blessings of warmth and light. Not a frozen wasteland that
requires one to wear layers of rough wool that hide all but our faces,” Mellay fumed with
disgust. Suddenly the sun wasn’t the only thing warming Galen’s face as he thought about
Mellay swaying through a desert marketplace in shimmering, body-hugging silks.
“I’ll take the lead,” Galen said gruffly to hide his discomfort. His mother had taught him
to respect women as people and not objects of lust like most men, but his growing feelings for
Mellay had stirred his natural instincts and made her an object of his desire. “We will never
make Roughstock if we don’t get started.” He then put his heels into Mercury’s flanks and
headed off down the caravan path without looking back to see if the others were following.
Moments later Olan reigned Blade beside Mercury. The experienced knight waited for
Galen to speak about what was bothering him, but the wretched young man watched the side of
the road in silence.
“Follow your heart, Galen,” advised Olan, “Your mother and father raised you well and
you know right from wrong. Just because something doesn’t go with what you’ve been taught or
led to believe what is proper doesn’t mean that its wrong. The Savior brings people into our
lives for a reason.”
Galen knew what his heart was telling him. Somehow the nabukian woman had found a
way into his soul. It wasn’t just her beauty or charm that Galen found himself needing. It was
something deeper, something that pulled on his soul and tormented his heart till he could look
upon her exotic face with its soothing eyes and only then could he feel the tension ease itself
from his aching body.
Soon Mellay and Ox joined the two companions and the four adventurers rode quietly
through the hilly, wooded countryside for hours with no one talking.
Mellay’s mood shed its frosty countenance with the rising temperature of the day and by
mid-morning Galen found himself riding alone with the exotic Nabukian who was silently, yet
boldly, studying him. Her penetrating gaze made Galen nervous. He wished she’d say
something, anything, just as long as she’d quit watching him with those striking green eyes that
consumed his soul when he looked into them. Mellay continued to watch him in silence as if
waiting for Galen to say or do something.
Riding so near Mellay, Galen began to feel the silence growing awkward. He tried to
think of something clever to say to the young woman, but whenever he tried to open his mouth it
was as if it was full of gummy molasses as it always did when he tried to approach members of
the opposite sex.
Luckily Mellay broke the silence first.
“I’m sorry for my outburst this morning. It’s just that it’s so hard to get use to this
weather up north. It gets cold at night in the desert too, but nothing like this,” she apologized.
“That’s alright,” Galen said. “There are days I regret getting out from under the warm
blankets of my bed. In the middle of winter it sometimes gets so could that your breath freezes
into a ball of ice as soon as it leaves your body.”
“Really?” Mellay asked in disbelief.
“Cross my heart,” Galen swore as he waved his finger across his heart. “So why did you
and Ox come so far north if you find the cold so intolerable?”
“What better place to hide from any would-be pursuers. They would have as rough of a
time as we do if they even could conceive that we would head to the cold northern lands,” she
replied simply.
“You mean someone may be after you?”
“Unfortunately yes, neither the noble I offended nor the satrap are the forgiving kind.
Their henchmen nearly caught us as we left the Mol’ tan. They were lying in wait at a place
called Demon’s Throat, it’s a underground tunnel that the Nabukians have used to sneak past the
wary eyes of your border keeps when they’ve had business in Avolund. We escaped the ambush,
but they chased us to the borders of the Silver Forest. We, along with our mounts, were
exhausted so we drew our weapons and stood our ground, determined to take some of them with
us. That’s when the fairies- I believe you call them elves, flew from the forest on winged beasts
that were part eagle and part lion, and chased off the Nabukians. They gave us these warm
clothes and some food, but told us not to enter their forest upon pain of death. So Ox and I
headed north until you and your uncle found us.”
“Mellay, I swear that I will do my best to keep you and Ox from harm by those who are
after you,” Galen swore in all seriousness. The Nabukian looked at Galen briefly as if judging his
response, then nodded her head ion satisfaction.
“I believe you will my savage northman,” Mellay teased with a smile. “Now let’s see how
fast that horse is of yours. Do you see that rock cropping that overhangs the road?”
“Yes.”
“The one whose horse gets their first wins the race and the prize. Agreed?” asked
Mellay.
“What’s the prize?” Galen questioned while he rubbed Mercury’s neck while he weighed
his chances against the much lighter woman and her strange small horse.
“I will tell you after I win,” she answered with a glint of mischief in her green eyes.
Galen and Mercury had never lost a race during the summer festival horse races so he
figured that Mellay and Dahknee would be no problem. “Sure, let’s see how your toy horse fares
against a real one,” he taunted.
“Go!” Yelled Mellay spurring Dahknee into action and gaining a brief head start on a
surprised Galen and Mercury.
Mercury’s competitive spirit launched him after the smaller mare even before Galen
could slap the reins against the stallions muscular neck. “Come on boy,” Galen urged the fleet
footed Mercury. “You’re not going to let a couple of girls beat us are you?”
Mercury snorted in answer to Galen’s challenge and lowered his head as he lunged
forward and caught up to Mellay and Dahknee. The two horses ran neck and neck neither able to
pass the other.
Mellay’s hood fell back and the wind rippled through her hair as she looked over at Galen
with her smiling eyes and a wide grin on her face. Galen returned her grin while the two horses
thundered down the road towards the cropping. At the last instant the strange, little Dahknee
pulled ahead and Mellay cried out in victory as she punched at the air with a slender fist.
“Your toy is fast,” said Galen admiringly. “But next time you won’t take us by surprise
on the start.” He rubbed Mercury’s heaving flanks in an attempt to soothe the poor animals
battered pride. “That’s the first time we’ve ever been beaten.”
Mellay guided Dahknee up close to Mercury. “Dahknee and I have never been beaten,”
she said, her tone full of pride and her face flushed with the excitement of the race and victory.
“Now I’ll take my prize.” And with that said Mellay, quicker than a striking viper,
grabbed Galen by the ears, pulled his face to hers, and kissed him passionately on the mouth.
Finally releasing Galen’s ears, Mellay smiled coyly at the bewildered young man, before
tapping him lightly on the nose with her index finger and heading off back down the path
towards Roughstock.
Galen turned to the two men who had caught up with the racers with a dreamy look in his
eyes and a smile that nearly reached from ear to ear. Olan and Ox both laughed at the enamored
youth as Galen put his heals to Mercury while calling out to Mellay.
“I want a rematch!” The young man pleaded as Mellay laughed at his pursuit and she
spurred Dahknee away from Galen and Mercury.
“I hope she is gentle with him,” Signed Sir Olan to Ox. “My nephew seems to be falling
for your friend or more aptly has already fallen.”
“You know the language of the hands?” Ox questioned the knight with a look of surprise
upon his ebon face.
“The knights go about the kingdom helping those in need and occasionally they are
handicapped in some way that does not allow us to communicate with them in a normal manner.
So to make sure that we are able to help all of the Savior’s children we are taught the language
of the hands to communicate with the deaf and mute,” Explained Olan. “How about you? I
would think that a gladiator from the Mol’ tan would have little use for the language.”
“After the satrap had my tongue removed I was unable to talk with the other gladiators
and honestly I had no desire to. When Mellay was thrown in with us I couldn’t stand what some
of the more criminal among us wanted to do to her so I took her in and gave her protection. She
was able to sense through my behavior and actions that I meant her no harm and to repay me
she taught me to talk with my hands.”
Ox paused to rest his fingers and watch as Galen taught Mellay to make snowballs and
then had to duck for cover behind Mercury as She pummeled him with several of the white
projectiles.
“I know, you wonder why a Nabukian would do anything for someone else. Not all
Nabukians are demon lovers, most are, but not all. She is one of those rare exceptions. Her
family has always been considered nontraditional by the other Nabukians but since her father
was a wealthy merchant the nobility always turned a blind eye to the families eccentric
behaviors.”
“Mellay’s father had a son who was born mute and instead of sacrificing the unfortunate
child as nabukian custom would dictate, he kept the boy. The father had some merchant friends
from east of the Blackstone Mountains who also had a handicapped child and they taught Mellay
and her father the language of the hand.”
“Mellay has taught me to live again and it is good to see her happy, something I didn’t
know would ever happen again,” Ox finished with a warm smile for Sir Olan. “Thank you.”
“The Savior works in mysterious ways in all our lives,” replied Olan, his fingers flowing
easily through the intricate motions of the hand language.
“How can your god affect the lives of us Nabukians? We do not believe in nor worship
him?”
“My god is a part of all things and cares for all of His people. Even Nabukians may find
their way to the Savior’s Paradise although their path may take longer to find Him,” preached
Sir Olan.
The two warriors rode in silence enjoying the antics of the two young people at play.
After a while Ox tapped Olan on the shoulder and began to sign again.
“Is it true that your god forgives all sins and that all people are equal in his eyes?”
“Yes, that is true,” answered Olan slowly. “If you ask for forgiveness with all sincerity
and ask the Savior into your heart than you are equal to any man in his eyes, whether a preacher
or a farmer.”
“How is this asking for forgiveness and opening your heart done? Do I need to sacrifice
something or give money to a church?”
Laughing at the naivety of the Nabukian, Sir Olan answered Ox as he wiped away a tear
that had formed in the corner of his eye. “The only thing the Savior asks of you... is you. To
treat others as you wish to be treated, to help those in need, and help others find their way to
Him. As how it is done...look deep in yourself and decide if it’s something you really want and
then find someplace that is quiet and peaceful and pray to the Savior asking for forgiveness and
open your heart to Him, and if you are sincere then a feeling like nothing you’ve ever felt before
will flood your soul that will make you laugh and cry at the same time and you know that you
will never be alone again.”
“Thank you, Olan. I carry a burden of guilt that I had thought I would never be rid of.
Maybe now there is hope.” Ox signed wistfully.
“There is always hope Ox. That is one of His promises to us.” Signed Olan back as he
watched Ox’s shoulders shrug in doubt.
The rest of the day Ox rode in silence, contemplating the sermon Sir Olan had given him
and the knight respected the giant’s privacy and left Ox to derive his own conclusion in peace.
Watching Galen and Mellay ride together gave the knight an idea for this evening’s sparring
lesson.
“The boy’s going to have to learn how to fight against women sometime and I believe
your little valkyrie would be perfect for educating him,” he chuckled to himself.
Ox, brought from his meditations by Sir Olan’s spoken thoughts, nodded his head in
approval and a wide grin showing a mouthful of squared pearl-white teeth. Both men laughed at
the expected enjoyment of watching Galen bumble through his lesson. Raised by his father to
never strike a woman, Galen was about to get an education in the workings of the real world.
Up ahead Galen and Mellay looked at one another quizzically after turning back from
watching the two older men laugh at some unheard joke.
“I wonder what those two are laughing about,” Galen asked Mellay.
“I bet they are laughing at one of Ox’s jokes,” Answered Mellay with a straight face.
“I thought Ox.....I get it!” And then Mellay and Galen burst into their own fit of laughter
not realizing that Ox and Olan had found a way to communicate with one another.
That evening after the horses had been picketed for the night and Galen was gathering
wood for a fire, Ox approached Sir Olan with a serene smile on his face.
“Mellay has agreed to your wishes. I think she is just as amused as us about educating
Galen as you are. Also, I would like to thank you for showing me the way to the Savior. My
heart is at last light and I believe that there is once again a tomorrow for me worth living.”
“You are welcome my friend,” said Sir Olan as he laid out his blanket roll. “I am happy
to help a fellow man find his way out of such a dark place.”
They ate a meal of hard bread and cheese and some dried fruits that the elves had given
the Nabukians after having no luck in shooting a wild turkey or catching some rabbits during the
day. But the weather was fine and the fire was warm and the four companions sat around the fire
discussing the differences in each other’s homeland until Sir Olan handed Galen the padded
wraps for his sword.
“Time to practice Galen,” stated Olan as he wrapped his own sword in the bulky padding.
“I wouldn’t want you to get rusty.”
“But what about my shoulder?” Whined Galen as he stared at the wrapping he held
between his raised fingers. “What if I re-injure it?”
“You’re going to have a cracked head to nurse if you don’t get that blade wrapped and
ready to spar in the next few moments,” growled Olan like an old drillmaster at the monastery.
“Fine,” grumbled Galen as he wrapped the blade and moved into the clearing next to his
uncle. Ox and Mellay moved over to a downed log to better watch the teacher and his apprentice
as they sparred.
“You did well the other day boy, but it was as much luck as it was skill. If Mellay had
been a second slower you would have been killed be that flea-encrusted goblin,” lectured the
knight. “We are going to drill and spar every night from now on to develop your combat edge
and awareness.”
“Ok, Uncle,” Galen said as he squared himself to Olan and raised the sword to a ready
position.
With the speed of the great cats that hunt the plains of Allura, Olan rushed Galen
swinging his padded weapon ferociously first high then low, left to right, and then a sweeping
figure eight. Galen backpedaled against the heavy blows but turned aside all of them and
regained his balance as he knocked Olan’s blade aside at the end of the knight’s sweeping attack.
Countering with a quick backhand Galen forced Olan back a step to keep from getting a nasty
whack across his exposed ribs.
The clever knight circled Galen and then began another charge that ended with a feinted
thrust at the young man’s chest. When Galen committed to blocking the unintended blow, Olan
dropped to his knees and with a sweeping leg hooked Galen’s ankle, dropping the surprised
fighter to his back, causing the air from Galen’s lung to explode in a rush.
Resting on the pommel of his sword Olan lectured the gasping Galen, “You have to be
able to see through your opponents attacks. Is it a real attack or is he going to feint and come at
you with something entirely different then what you think. Most fighters think in a linear
pattern. I have a sword so I attack with a sword, but a true warrior...”
“Uses all his options at hand. I remember the lesson Uncle. I just forgot,” finished Galen
as he regained his feet and brushed snow from his collar before it could slide down his back.
“You can’t forget or you will be killed,” roared Olan as he launched himself, blade first,
at Galen.
Letting his breath escape slowly from his lips and slipping into a clear mindset, Galen
watched the knight’s approach as if in slow motion and side stepped the extended blade as he
drove his knee into Olan’s belly, blasting the wind from the knight.
Olan braced himself with his arms as he gasped for air. “It’s amazing. You have just
begun your training with the sword and can hold your own against me. I’m one of the best
swordsmen in the knighthood,” the stunned Olan panted. “Other than focus and practice sparring
to shape your muscles and build your endurance, I don’t know how much I can teach you.”
“Then I will teach him,” purred Mellay while she slowly spun her padded short swords
and studied Galen. She continued to walk a slow circle around the confused young man looking
for an opening, feinting once in a while to test Galen’s response to her attacks.
“I won’t fight you,” began Galen. “My father has taught me to respect women and I
won’t harm you or raise my weapon to a lady either in practice or combat.” The foolish young
man lowered his sword tip to the ground and assumed a relaxed stance.
“That is a grand and wonderful idea, but it is outdated and useless when applied to the
workings of the real world.” The smile on Mellay’s face never drooped as she lightly smacked
Galen on one cheek and then the other with the flat of her blades.
Rubbing the inflamed welts left by Mellay’s swords with his left hand, he tossed his
sword away with his right. “I will not fight you Mellay.”
“Then you will learn a very painful lesson I assure you.” She promised.
The skilled Mellay began to weave her blades in a spinning dance that kept a wall of
deadly steel in front her as she closed in on Galen. Mellay made two jabs that Galen sidestepped
and a double overhead chop that he had to roll clumsily off to one side to avoid. Thinking that
she would let him regain his feet like his uncle always had, Galen was taken by surprise when
Mellay’s booted foot connected solidly with his ribs and he grunted with pain. Sensing the
approach of her padded blades, Galen rolled away and barely avoided another hit. He felt
something hard under his kidneys and reached under him to find the hilt of his sword.
“In a real battle there is no quarter given,” Mellay scolded the inexperienced fighter.
“Your opponent will do everything in their power to kill you before you kill them and that
includes hitting them when they’re down, stabbing you in your back, and all kinds of nasty little
tricks to take advantage of your pretty little code of honor.”
Galen watched Mellay approach with her swords crossed in front of her, and when she
began to swing them at his solar plexus for a stunning hit Galen snaked one leg behind Mellay’s
legs and kicked her hard above the knees with the other, knocking her to the ground.
With cat-like balance and speed, Mellay regained her feet and spun her short swords
again in a deadly figure-eight. Galen had also regained his feet and held his sword before him in
a low ready position. The two combatants circled one another warily.
Mellay launched a brutal assault attacking with both swords simultaneously, and sweat
began to bead on Galen’s forehead as he turned away the rapid blows. But Galen knew he
couldn’t keep up with the both of the blades and if he didn’t do something quick one of those
blades were going to give him another bruise or worse.
Despite the ferocity of her attacks, Mellay was hardly winded and smiled inwardly as
Galen seemed to be slowing and she knew that the fight would soon be over. She began angling
her attacks higher to leave Galen’s chest exposed were she could end the fight with a double
strike to his ribs.
From the edge of the battle Ox and Olan sat together and watched as they puffed on pipes
that Ox had provided from his saddlebags.
“I’m surprised Galen’s lasted this long against Mellay,” Ox signed with his free hand.
“In the arena Mellay was known for her fast kills. Once she eliminated four long-toothed cats in
less time than it took for a coin to be flipped from your hand and be caught again. Your boy has
the true heart of a warrior.”
“Thank you, Ox. Galen does his father proud, but I think Mellay is about to finish him.
That last parry was a little slow and Galen nearly had a really bad headache.”
The two veterans blew smoke rings as they waited for the battle to end, but both were
impressed with the two young warriors.
That’s when it happened. Galen saw his opening as Mellay swung both weapons in a
overhead chop designed to leave Galen vulnerable. He blocked the chop with the length of his
broadsword, but instead of holding the block he drove his and Mellay’s weapons back over her
head causing her to lose her balance. Shoving the weapons harmlessly aside, Galen wrapped his
arms, made powerful from chopping wood, around the stunned arena fighter and lifted Mellay
completely off the ground. With a twist of his shoulders Galen dropped Mellay and fell atop of
her, pinning her beneath his heavier body. Mellay grunted loudly as they hit and stared at Galen
with surprise and awe at his bold move.
At that moment, fueled by the heat of the battle and the feel of Mellay’s hard, yet soft,
body beneath him. Galen felt an urge and kissed Mellay passionately on the lips. She struggled
at first but then returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and the they stayed embraced and lost in time
for many moments.
Laughter broke the two lovers apart as they stared at one another with longing before
turning their attention to the two older men laughing around the campfire.
“What’s so funny?” Growled Galen who wasn’t happy about he and Mellay’s intimate
moment being interrupted.
Tomorrow night you are going to spar with Ox and he says if you try to kiss him like that
he will split you in half with his axe.” Both Ox and Olan began to roll with mirth and Mellay
joined in with her own laughter that sounded like bells chiming in a gentle breeze. Galen looked
at all of them and shrugged his shoulders and joined in their merriment.
Two days later at midday the companions arrived at the stout wooden gates of
Roughstock. Unlike the stone walls of Stoneheart, Roughstock was surrounded by a ten foot
spiked wooden wall. Guardsmen in rough leather armor carrying longbows and spears patrolled
the walls and watched the party approach with suspicion and a few guards notched an arrow and
held them at the ready.
Galen rubbed at a shoulder that had been bruised in his sparring with Ox the night before,
but was comforted when he looked at the giant fighter who was massaging a sore jaw and
grinned at Galen with a smile missing a freshly lost tooth. The young man watched with interest
as a weathered soldier stepped through the gate and stood calmly in the middle of the road to confront
the companions. Cobalt eyes weighed the two northerners briefly and tightened slightly when they
passed over the Nabukians; his square jaw clenched but the soldier held his tongue. Everything about
the man emanated a sense of control and duty. From the two handed sword he wore comfortably on
his broad back to his raven black hair that hung in two thick braids from the base of his neck down
across his thick chest.
“Hold strangers, I am Captain Moran and it is my duty to keep out undesirables so state
your name and what business you have with the town of Roughstock,” Ordered the man whose
only sign of rank seemed to be his well-polished chainmail he wore under a sturdy leather tunic and
a golden pendent in the shape of sunburst that hung from a chain at his neck.
Sir Olan rode forward and addressed the captain, “I’m Sir Olan Stoutheart of the Knights
of Everwatch, this is my nephew Galen Stoutheart, the lady is Mellay Zanathrith, and the
mountain of a man behind me is Oxuberoth Saktasorath and we were sent from Stoneheart to
give you warning of an invasion. I would like to speak with your head man.”
The captain studied the party in front of him and then motioned a guardsman over to him.
He whispered something to the guard who then bowed to the captain before disappearing from
view.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence the guard returned and spoke to Captain
Morlan.
“Mayor Gunther will speak to you in his office. Tor here will take you to him,” explained
the captain. “Cause no trouble and you will be welcomed in our town, but if you make mischief
then you will be tried by our jury and if found guilty you will enjoy the hospitality of our jail.”
“You will have no trouble from us good captain,” assured Sir Olan.
The grizzled captain ordered Tor to lead the visitors to the town hall and as the party
crossed through the open gates they received their first glimpse of Roughstock.
More to follow early in the week. It's hot as hell here so stay cool and read something lol!!
