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The other attacker snarled, “You’re mine, human!”

The tribesman poked at Loric’s exposed abdomen, but it was only a feint. With his focus disrupted by the creature’s amazing and unexpected power of speech, the inexperienced fighter bit on the fake. As soon as Loric realized his error, he reset his feet to reverse the direction of his shield and duck beneath the sweeping cut of the spear. The sharp flint at the end of that knobby pole rushed over his turtle-postured cranium with a loud
whoop,
and the momentum of the weapon carried its overzealous wielder into a listing sideways stance in front of its intended target.

“No, you are mine,” Loric corrected his foe, delivering a solid shield bash to the toppling savage’s face. The Bushubu’s eyes rolled back as it crashed, telling Loric that his foe no longer presented a threat to Aldric’s company. A look around made it clear that Bushubu Warriors no longer wished to fight. The might of superior armor and weapons had been proven by way of fallen tribesmen, whose broken and bleeding bodies now lined both sides of the Old King’s Way.

The Egolstadters let out a roar to chase their retreating foes further into the woods. Loric raised his voice amongst that boisterous brotherhood of survivors. He sighed with relief that it was over, but he could not deny his excitement. It had been a thrill to take part in pitched battle against the Bushubu.

“You have proven your worth already,” called a familiar voice. It was Aldric. His

countenance was one of mixed emotions. His grin spoke of grim satisfaction and his love for a good fight, but his eyes glowed with an angry glare that decreed the destruction of those wild savages that had dared bring open battle to a Lord of Beledon. The perplexity that furrowed his brow hinted at some uncertainty, which source was to remain a mystery to Loric and everyone else. “Come,” the Lord of Egolstadt commanded, “we must check on our guests at once. I fear I have been negligent in their defense, but then who expected this
wanton attack?”

The intensity of Aldric’s last words struck Loric hard. He recovered with a gulp and asked,

“Who indeed, lord?”

Loric followed Aldric, who issued hasty orders to his subordinates along the way. “Belduin, have the men pile and burn their filthy hides!” he spat. “Nerstlin, set a guard on our flanks.

Malric, gather our wounded--how I wish Elberon were here. Somebody see to the fallen. We must carry them with us. Has anyone seen Warnyck? Someone find him. There is scouting to do.

Riders! I need riders dispatched to Lord Garrick and Captain Hauldren at once.”

Each directive was given and obeyed with utmost haste. The man with the braided blond hair approached, and Aldric sighed, relieved. “Warnyck,” he said, pleased. “I am glad to see that you are well. I need you to select two of our best men to help you track the Bushubu raiders.

Discover everything you can of their tactics, their deployment and their defenses. This treachery will be repaid, so learn well and report!”

“Yes, milord,” came Nyck’s eager reply. The scout coaxed his gray mare up on hind legs for show, turned her about and sprang away in the opposite direction.

Two other riders came to Aldric. To the first man, Aldric said, “Go to Moonriver and tell his lordship what has befallen here.” The messenger sped off northward, and Aldric ordered the second man, “Find Hauldren and warn him of the Bushubu Tribe’s sudden disregard for Lord Garrick’s wrath.” The courier raced away southward to deliver the message.

When they reached the front of the column, Loric and Aldric were pleased to see that the Bushubu had injured neither the king nor the princess during the attack. In fact, the ruler of Regalsturn was busily cleaning his red-streaked blade. His lovely daughter was tending to a bitten soldier with the same gentleness she had shown Loric. Upon realizing Avalana had shown him no special favor over any other injured fellow, Loric sought a distraction. He looked over the devastation the ferocity of the attack had caused. The trail of wounded and dead suggested that the brunt of the Bushubu assault had come against the middle and rear of the host.

“There is nothing like a good skirmish to remind people of our station why we have

attendants to sharpen our weapons and polish our armor,” Avalar commented excitedly. “Would you not agree, Aldric?”

“Quite right,” the Lord of Egolstadt said heartily, his mouth working hungrily upon his lips.

Loric decided to follow King Avalar’s lead in wiping blood from his weapon. For the first time he noticed how messy the Sword of Logant was with hair and life fluids. He gulped down the meaning as a pill of necessity, cut a scrap of cloth from a fallen soldier’s cloak and set his rag to work. Aldric extended his sword to his young guest and asked, “Would you be kind enough to tend
Judgment
as well?”

“Yes, lord,” Loric replied. “It is a fine name for a fine blade.”

It was no lie. The weapon was akin to the Sword of Logant, but it had an emerald pommel rather than a diamond. Jagged mountain peaks decorated the cross guard, and rising above them, where the blade met the hilt, there were three emerald-studded towers.

“Thank you,” Aldric returned.

Loric volunteered his service to Avalar, suggesting, “It would be no trouble to finish your sword as well, majesty.”

A condescending smile lit the king’s face, as he shared, “Your offer is appreciated, but to allow you to finish this task would be to rob myself of youthful reminiscences. Therefore, I must decline. Even as I do this, I commit the faces of those uncanny beasts to my memory and attach the name Bushubu to them. It is part of the warrior’s duty, to do this.”

“As you wish, majesty,” Loric humbly replied.

“My dear king,” Aldric addressed Avalar, “I would contend that battles themselves help the warrior to remember his enemies and their habits. So I must ask you: why sully our hands with the blood and filth of our foes when we have squires and servants to do so in our stead?”

Avalar looked thoughtful for a moment.

Avalana spared him the need to reply, by peering up from her patient to say, “It seems best that great lords clean their blades and the blades of their captains, who should likewise clean blades for their underlings, and so on. Else how will they measure the cost of baring steel to resolve their differences?”

Avalar and Aldric looked as though Avalana had scratched open wounds with her fingernail due her surprising twist on their discussion.

“It is best that you heal and we fight, Highness,” grunted her patient, earning care less gentle for his errant opinion.

Aldric warned the man to silence with a hard look, so he mumbled an apology and stared at the ground.

“Should we then dig the graves as well, daughter?” Avalar rumbled back at her.

“This stimulating discourse could carry us the rest of the way to Moonriver Castle--and beyond that distance, I should think,” Aldric remarked with a clever smile and an uneasy chuckle.

The princess went on to say, “Graves are sure measures of loss, but it is in the homes from whence these men hail that the true cost is weighed. Otherwise, I would say,
Yes, great lords
should dig the graves.”

Loric disagreed with Avalana’s stunning view. Nevertheless, it called his beliefs into question. It made him wonder if there was no other way to unite Beledon than the strokes of swords and axes. The princess made war seem like a terrible thing, but he asked himself,
What
could a girl from Regalsturn know of war in Beledon?

Aldric ventured to air his view, saying, “The war that divides this kingdom forces me to disagree with you, fair princess. I kill as I must, and I cannot bear the burden of guilt that you would heap upon lords like me. I would soon share the grave of my fallen men if I did that, and then who would lead in my stead? My sons are too young to lead, much as Prince Lornigan was too young to lead when Great Donigan perished in the talons of Andokandazur the Black. That would create more strife within the realm, thereby piling misery atop misery.” Aldric shook his head and said sadly, “No, princess. For the sake of order alone, I prefer to remember this battle by the Bushubu Spear.”

“I understand your view,” Avalar murmured in agreement with Aldric.

“I forgive you your view,” Avalana conceded with a hard set to her jaw.

“Avalana!” barked Avalar. “You misspeak! Pray Aldric to forgive your harsh judgment. He does not sin by the necessity of his duty.”

“I am not offended, good king,” Aldric assured him.

“Well, I am,” Avalar promised him, with his eyes incredulous due to his daughter’s solemn offense.

“The memory of one spear only leads to another spear,” Avalana accused. “Then another leads to another. I do not pray forgiveness, father. It is foolish to remember this battle, or any other, by a Bushubu Spear.” She left them to go tend the wounds of other injured men.

Aldric pressed his lips together to hold back his objection.

King Avalar appeared on the brink of exploding, and if he did not burst, veins pulsing in his neck and his forehead were like to do so in his stead.

Loric wrestled with the subject, uncomfortable with the bitterness it had caused in the once-merry company he now kept. He saw Aldric’s wounded men all around him. The dead spoke loudly in favor of the argument the princess had presented. Still, he remembered a savage face with man-flesh hanging from its mouth, and he chose to remember the Bushubu Spear.

Chapter Eight

A Clean Man

It took several hours to reorganize the company. Wounded were given field care to stop their bleeding. Dead men were bound in tent canvas to make their journey to Moonriver Castle. The fallen Bushubu were stacked and burned. In fact, they were still burning when Aldric

commanded the ox horn to sound. Aldric assigned a dozen volunteers to keep watch over the fire until Captain Hauldren’s company could come and relieve them.

As they mounted up and proceeded along the Old King’s Way, Loric noticed that Avalana wore a pleasant smile once more. She talked gaily with Aldric and Avalar, causing the young traveler from Taeglin to wonder if the argument between them had truly taken place, or if he might have imagined the whole exchange. Loric brushed the matter aside, as he was caught up in the warmth of the woman’s glow.

Aldric cast a proud glance Loric’s way, before informing his noble guests, “King Avalar, Princess Avalana, I would escort you to the Moon Bridge, but then my men shall have to see you safely on from there. My bold young companion wishes to make an oath of service to me, but a bit of ceremony is in order. It would delay you further, and we have delayed you overlong already. I could not in good conscience keep you at risk in the wilds of Riverwood, so I would send you on ahead of us.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Lord Aldric!” Avalar exclaimed in a hurt tone. “I would feel cheated to miss this ceremony. What a fascinating opportunity to see this aspect of Beledonian Culture at work. No, Aldric. I must insist upon standing witness to this event.”

Avalana shifted uneasily. “What if those creatures return?” she asked fearfully.

“Not to worry, beloved daughter,” Avalar assured her. “I think it is nothing Lord Aldric and his men cannot handle. Am I right, Aldric?” Without allowing the Lord of Egolstadt a reply, Avalar went on to remark, “In fact, lord, I was about to tell you that you have brought us hither in good time and you have been a genteel sir in the course of your duty.”

Aldric closed his lips to restrain what he was holding poised upon them. Cornered by the king’s kindness, he forced a smile and nodded his agreement. “Not to worry, princess,” Aldric offered reassuringly, “We have withstood the Bushubu once and we shall withstand them again.

Besides, they will be hours recovering from our first row. We have dealt them a beating they will not soon forget. Neither will they eagerly receive such like again. We will be well away before they return.”

Helpless against the will of two great lords, Avalana replied with a resigned, “Yes, father.

Yes, lord.”

“You will come to no harm,” Loric promised her. “Many swords will be broken, mine

included, ere you need fear those beasts, milady.”

“Rightly said,” Aldric mumbled in agreement.

Avalana smiled bashfully.

The king frowned.

“By your leave, good Avalar, we will take a side path I know. It will carry us under the Moon Bridge to the river below,” Aldric explained.

“Thank you for allowing me the privilege to observe this,” answered the grateful king. “I enjoy such ceremonies. Moreover, I am curious to see this one firsthand. I know that an oath is an oath in any country, but customs are different in every land. This truth I have learned in my travels--even within my realm.” He set his eyes upon Loric and grinned, reminding him, “To pledge an oath of service is the first step toward manhood.”

Loric humbly bowed his head.

Aldric turned Snowstorm onto a narrow path between long rows of birch trees. Leafy fingers tickled at each member of the company as they passed under the natural archway to part from the Old King’s Way. Within ten minutes, foliage gave way to the muddy riverbank. A wide, foamy channel rushed beneath the flagstone arch-bridge up above, its supports surrounded by swirling water, as were a number of half-submerged boulders.

Aldric signaled for the party to halt and stand attention. Then he dismounted, passing the reins of his horse to a nearby guard. He waited for Loric to step down from his saddle before he unbelted his blade, handed it off to the same man and strode thigh deep into the river. Loric unbelted the Sword of Logant, but Aldric commanded him, “Bring your blade.”

Loric held the weapon by its scabbard and followed Aldric to the water’s edge, where he hesitated. The Moonbeam was quick, with noticeable current, but this river, the Moon River, was swift and furious. He stepped gingerly into the water, until it was eddying around his calves and filling his boots with liquid ice.

Aldric turned and asked him, “Are you afraid of the water?”

“No, lord,” Loric lied. “It is cold, that is all. It takes some getting used to.”