At Least He's Not On Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head (17 page)

“Wow,” Rynne answered, only barely comprehending the full weight of the man’s answer to her.
 

“Things are made complicated by the Empire’s greed for territory. Things are made complicated by the Empire’s need for dead bodies to perform slave labor. Things are made complicated by their constant incursions into Varrland to satisfy these hungers. Things are made complicated by our own Varrlander pride, and sense of patriotism and independence. Don’t forget, we are only a few generations removed from the execution of our own tyrant king. Our national blood boils when we see a nation so close under so similar a rule.
 
It also does help that our envoys to the Realm of Duulan have not yet met with the Queen to make peace.”

Catherine leaned in and addressed the knight, “How would that help things? You think a Duulani diplomat will achieve what a Varrlander diplomat can’t?”

Marcus nodded confidently, “For whatever reason the current Queen of Amaranth is fond of the King of Duulan. She has listened to his advice many times in the past decade, averting many a crisis, and we are petitioning the King to send missives and diplomats to her to stop this reckless activity. If she does not…” Marcus trailed off, fidgeting with the remnants of food on his plate.

“If she doesn’t what then?”

Marcus looked up with cold eyes, devoid of joy, “Then Varrland would be forced to escalate matters.”

Malwynn felt the mood of the room drop as if snow had fallen fresh and piled a foot high, “You mean war. You mean Varrland might go to war with the Empire.”

“I mean that is a distinct possibility. The Empire has never sent a force this far into Varrland. It speaks of brazen aggression to send a patrol such as the one you and your sister witnessed yesterday so far into our country. It is a strong sign of things likely to come. Unless deterred by force or diplomacy, I can see no other end to this madness.”

“Surely the King of Duulan will send assistance. He must understand the urgency of the matter. War between nations hasn’t occurred in centuries. The potential for massacre without the presence of hundreds of Apostles… It could be as bad or worse than The Great Plague. All of humanity would be at risk once more…” Catherine said, worry thick in her voice. Poor little Rynne absorbed the tension and got out of Umaryn’s lap, and scurried around to her mother, seeking the best shelter from the unknown.

“Agreed,” Marcus said. “It is made more cumbersome by the presence of so many death mages in the Empire. Surely they would use The Way to animate their dead as well as ours. We would be fighting two wars simultaneously.”

“What of the Waymancers in The Northern Protectorate at the school of The Way? They’d intervene, wouldn’t they?” Umaryn asked.

Marcus shook his head negatively, “House Kulare’s presence has been the sole reason the Empire hasn’t attempted to invade the NP. If House Kulare came to our aid, the Queen would surely strike at them. The Protectorate’s quarries and natural resources are far too enviable for her to simply leave alone. The Waymancers there are focused on keeping their home safe, and teaching the new users of The Way properly. To ask them to do more would be selfish, and reckless.”

“What of the other major Knightly Orders?” Ellioth asked, rubbing his hand softly on his youngest child’s back. Rynne’s emotions had reined themselves in with her mother and father’s comforting touch.

Marcus finally nodded, indicating hope, “It is likely that we could receive aid from The Order of the Flame. They have no love lost for the Purple Queen. However, they could spare few knights. They’ve sworn an oath to the nation of Farmington and would not leave them fully, even for such a just cause. The Order of the Lacuna would certainly send warriors to our aid, but they are spread very thin. If it were to come to war, Varrland would need to carry the day expecting no help. We would need to start and finish any war on our own, or at least expect to. Let us hope that this does not come to war, and the Purple Queen hears reason from the lips of the Duulani King.”

The family was in agreement.

“Your hospitality has been enormous. I and my men are in your debt for many reasons this morning,” Marcus said, pulling his hair up into the ponytail he wore the other day.

“It’s been our pleasure to host you. I’m sure our neighbors looking after your men would say the same. We don’t get many visitors to new Picknell, never mind a knight from Daris that’s just fought off an Empire patrol.” Ellioth said with a smile.

“Nevertheless, we are in your debt. Please don’t let my warmongering affect your sleep. I am a leader of men that may be forced to war. Conflict clouds my thoughts.”

Catherine’s warm face looked to him, “If you wish it, I’ll spend some time with you and your men privately. A few blessings from the ancestors for your journey back to Daris might help clear your thoughts, and recover your spent courage.”

Marcus admired the mother, and Apostle. “Of course. My men would certainly appreciate your attention. My sincere thanks for all you’ve done. I’m going to collect my men and return here in a few hours. As a gesture of faith I would like to leave a few gifts behind, if you allow it.”

Malwynn and Umaryn perked up at the idea of gifts. Things new to their small town were rare and wondrous items, no matter how trivial. Ellioth’s facial expression indicated to Marcus that he should continue.

“I see your elder daughter works with her hands. Her deft use of a forging hammer helped save her brother’s life. With even a remote chance of threat on the horizon, I would like to give to her my Apostle Chael’s warhammer. I suspect her natural gifts might allow her to make excellent use of it. I know Chael would approve.”

Umaryn’s eyes lit up like she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning from a storm head, “You’re serious?”

“Of course I am. You and your brother risked much trying to save his life, and I feel it appropriate that you take his weapon, and give it a purpose.”

“Ancestors bless you, thank you so much,” Umaryn said, clearly grateful to the large man.

“I would also like to leave something for your eldest son Ellioth. A gift that may outshine the simple warhammer today.”

Malwynn looked around the room, waiting anxiously to hear what could possibly be more incredible than the weapon his sister had received.

“I wish to leave the Gvorn mount the death mage rode with Malwynn. I feel it will be put to much better use in your fields than underneath another warrior, good or evil. Sometimes it is important that a warrior retire gracefully, and I feel this Gvorn’s time has come.”

The family let loose a series of gasps. Gvorn were incredibly expensive, and owned only by the wealthy, or warriors who required the powerful creatures to do battle. Having one as a farm creature would be an incredible boon not only to Malwynn and the family, but to the whole village.

“I don’t even have words to express my appreciation Sir Marcus. This gift seems like too much,” Malwynn said softly.

“I thought you would say as much, and I disagree. Rename it. Give it a new purpose, and a new life that isn’t dedicated to the ruination of man. I will consider it a task appointed to you.”

Malwynn nodded solemnly.

“I will be leaving the rest of the armor and weapons from the Amaranth warriors in your care Ellioth, should you need to arm your citizens more robustly at a later date. I trust you can handle this task?” Marcus asked seriously.

The father nodded, “Of course.”

“Then I am off to gather my men. Thank you for the breakfast, and I will see you again before we depart.” Marcus stood to his full height and excused himself from the modest dining room. He looked like a shining gem dressed in his finery in the simple home. The family was too excited to say anything for some time.

In the center of the town where the largest well was, Catherine summoned the attention of the ancestors once more to give Marcus and his men a blessing. The entire population of New Picknell, all 167 souls had gathered to watch their departure. Each of the red and white garbed men took her gentle touch on their forehead as if it were a draught of cooling water on the hottest of midsummer days. They felt invigorated, and made more substantial with the support of the spirits in the world around them. To a one, they felt truly and completely blessed by Catherine and the spiritual energy she channeled into them.

Marcus shook many hands before pulling his large body up into the saddle on the back of his massive Gvorn. Taking the reins in hand, he waved and smiled at every person gathered, sharing his tremendous charisma and personal strength. The man seemed to radiate confidence and calm.
 
Malywnn and Umaryn stood next to one another as they waved him goodbye. Umaryn cradled Chael’s warhammer in the crook of her arm like a royal scepter, comforted in a way that only the Artificer spirit-touched could be by its presence. They watched for some time as the small group of warriors moved off into the distance, and over a gentle rolling hill.

The brother and sister would have many dark days before they laid eyes on him again.

Many days later Malwynn rested deep in a pile of hay with the young girl he was in love with, looking up at the tall apex of the barn they hid inside. New Picknell had returned to normal. The two were stealing this moment. Marissa’s parents would not approve of so intimate a moment for the two yet, and as young lovers, parental wishes were quite secondary.
 
The hay was old; the dried up leftovers from the prior year, and was mostly straw now. It was itchy against his pale white skin, but the soft scent of flowers wafting up from Marissa’s hair was more than enough to distract him from such a minor discomfort. He felt her wiggle her arm playfully under his back so as to fully envelop him in an embrace. Marissa rested her delicate head in the crux of his arm and looked up into his eyes.

“Strange week we’ve had,” she said quietly.
 

“Yeah, no doubt,” Malwynn said, meeting her gaze. He bent down and kissed her affectionately and playfully.

“My father says you were quite lucky. He thinks you and your sister are a little crazy for having done what you did.”

Malwynn snickered, “Well we’re crazy, that’s for sure, but not crazy for that. We were trying to help Varrlander knights. It might seem silly now, but we had no time to think about silliness. Just time enough to act.” The tall boy’s thoughts raced back to the moment his second arrow pierced the chain mail of the Empire foot soldier. Malwynn had been less than a second away from being hacked apart by the vicious axe that now rested in his father’s closet.

Marissa nodded, but she didn’t fully understand. There was no way for her to. “I’m glad you and your sister didn’t get hurt. There were undead there, plus a necromancer. Any number of horrible things could have happened. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you Malywnn. I think I’d go mad.”

“It wouldn’t be a far trip dear,” Malwynn said, picking on her. She retaliated by freeing her hands and mercilessly tickling him. The young man giggled until he couldn’t breathe, finally begging her for mercy. She relented. After catching their wind the two nuzzled against one another again, sinking deep into the itchy hay and not caring in the least.

“You know I’m serious. I do think I’d go quite mad if anything happened to you,” Marissa said again, seriously.

Malwynn reached down with a free hand and tilted her face up with a finger on her tiny chin, “Marissa, nothing will ever happen to me like that. And I know you love me, and I love you too. I love you more than I’ll ever really be able to explain, or understand. Nothing will change that, and from now on, I will do my best to stay safe so you don’t have to worry.”

Marissa smiled at him, this time fully understanding him, and they kissed softly, this time longer.

“I’d go a little mad myself if anything happened to you. You know that right?”

“Well THAT would be a short trip, wouldn’t it?” Marissa said before biting Malwynn’s arm with a grin.

Furious tickling ensued.