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Authors: Michael G. Southwick

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BOOK: HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir)
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The stillness in the glade was filled with such tension Jorem had to restrain himself from bolting for the woods.  All eyes seemed to be fixed upon the young boy astride an exhausted horse.  He was very much aware that they had no fear of him.  Just as Jorem was certain the horde was about to attack, the leader raised his head and laughed.  The tension drained from his band and each of them turned away with a shaking of heads.

The leader looked again at Jorem, all malice gone as he said, “Brave words for a mortal so young.  Our fun we have had, of the girl we’ve no need.  Take her and be well, son of Grendith.”

Jorem backed his mount from the entrance of the cave to allow room for the riders to pass. The sword he kept in his hand, though he lowered it to his side.  The leader of the band reined his horse over to the other side of the entrance and waited while the others rode by.  A horse carrying double approached Jorem.  The rider seemed much younger than any others that had passed.

“You risked much for this one,” he said, nodding toward his passenger.  “Is she your life’s love?” he asked. 

Jorem looked at Jannett. She seemed as if in a trance.  “Nay,” said Jorem.  “She is but the sister of a friend.”

The young rider’s brows rose as he looked at Jorem.  “Such a friend has more value than gold.”  Gently, he lowered Jannett to the ground and rode on.  Jannett slumped down and sat on the ground at the workhorse’s side.  How many of the Folk passed by him he could not count.  The events of the night were taking their toll.  Never had he felt so tired.

The last of the Folk filed through the entrance of the cave.  The leader of the band approached Jorem. He looked down at Jannett.  She was sitting on the ground, her head leaning against the horse’s leg.  Her eyes were slightly glazed as if she were unaware of what was happening.  The man raised his eyes until they were even with Jorem’s. 

“There must be quite a reward for you to take such a risk,” the rider said.

Jorem shook his head and replied, “I did what was needed.  There will be no praise, for I am not well-liked by those that approach.” 

The leader’s look became very intense as he asked, “Why then have your risked the fury of the Folk?”

Jorem could only think of one reply.  “Because it is what my father’s father would have done.”

The leader looked away, then turned back.  Reaching into his tunic he pulled out a small dagger and handed it toward Jorem hilt first.  “You honor your house, Son of Grendith.  Such courage is not lost on the Folk.”

Jorem slid his sword back into its ties then took the dagger.  The rider nodded and continued after the others.  Glancing at the dagger, Jorem tucked it beneath his vest.  Dismounting, he knelt beside Jannett.  She did not respond when he spoke to her.  The wind rustled through the leaves as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon.  Jorem looked back at the cave to see that it was gone.  A hillside of clover and fern was in its place.

Once again there were the sounds of horses and men approaching.  Apparently the workhorse had left an easy trail to follow.  Jorem stood and watched them as they came.  Franks was in the lead, followed by several others, including a number of Pertheron’s guards and a few of the guardsmen that frequented the inn. The smith heaved himself from his horse and ran, stumbling to his knees as he wrapped his arms around his daughter. 

“Jannett, oh my dear Jannett,” he whispered as tears streamed down his face.

With the closing of the portal to the realm of the Folk, Jannett had regained awareness.  She looked confused for a moment. That she was in her father’s arms in the middle of the forest surrounded by armed warriors slowly seeped into her mind.  Like a drowning man, she wrapped he arms around her father’s neck.

“Father, oh Father!” she cried, her voice hoarse with emotion as she threw herself into his embrace.

Jorem led the workhorse out of the way as the rest of the men from the village gathered around father and daughter.  No one spoke to him.  Few even looked his way. The smith was totally focused on his daughter and the men paid him as much heed as Pertheron and Jannett usually did.  He was too tired from his efforts of the night to even care.  Finding a shady spot, he sat down and leaned his back against a tree and promptly fell asleep.

 

Chapter XXIV

 

When Jorem awoke, the others had already gone.  By the westerly position of the sun, he figured it must be well past noon.  The old workhorse was tethered nearby and seemed quite content in the dappled shadows as it munched away at the tall grass.  The whole scene was so peaceful it was almost unreal.  A slight breeze caressed his skin.  The breeze carried on it the smell of wild flowers and earth.

Jorem levered himself up off of the ground.  Yawning, he stretched to get the knots out from sleeping on the ground.  He could feel the imprints the bark of the tree had left in his back.  As he walked over to the horse, his legs ached in complaint of his earlier ride.  The last thing that he wanted to do was to get back in the saddle.  Unfortunately, unless he wanted to walk, he had several more hours’ ride to get back to the inn.

Someone had loosened the saddle girth, so Jorem tightened it back up before mounting.  The horse was quite put out when Jorem nudged it to start out.  He couldn’t blame the horse for its reluctance to leave such an ideal place.  Nevertheless, he reined the horse around and started down the track.  He wouldn’t have minded staying longer, but his last meal seemed forever ago and his knowledge of the local edible plants was severely lacking.

The trip back was rather pleasant, other than sitting astride the workhorse’s wide back.  The trail was much easier to follow in the daylight, especially due to several riders having passed this way.  A gentle breeze was blowing through the trees and a variety of birds flittered from limb to limb, chirping out to one another.  Squirrels dashed from tree to tree, occasionally stopping to scold Jorem and the horse for intruding into their domain.

When he finally got back to the smithy, he gave the horse a good rub down.  The big, old horse nearly purred with pleasure.  It’s eyes slowly closed and its nose drooped until it almost touched the ground.  Jorem doubted that the horse got such attention often, but after last night it was the least he could do by way of thanks for the animal’s efforts.  With a quick check to be sure there was ample hay and water in the stall, Jorem headed for the inn.  Food and sleep were all that were on his mind.

The next day, Jorem awoke late.  He had gotten accustomed to getting up on his own, so it didn’t surprise him that no one had come to get him.  He dressed quickly, but decided to take the time to bathe and have a good first meal before returning to the smithy.  When he finally got there, he found the room still dark and the forge cold.

Franks hadn’t left any instructions for him, so after he got a fire going in the forge, he spent his time cleaning.  He went through all of the tools, checking for damage or wear.  Swinging a hammer with a cracked handle was not a pleasant experience, and Jorem had no desire to do that again.  It was several candle marks before anyone showed up and then it wasn’t who Jorem had expected.

Ben came in and sat down.  “Father is in a council session with the Duke.  He’ll probably be there all day.”

The day had just begun and Ben already looked tired.  Something was bothering the blacksmith’s son and Jorem didn’t think it had anything to do with the event involving the Folk.  Jorem walked over next to Ben.  Placing both hands on the bench top, he leaned forward and sighed.  He looked over at Ben and saw the other boy was staring fixedly at the bench top.

“So,” Jorem said questioningly, “What are we supposed to do?”

“He said for me to tend to the forge.”  Ben’s voice was depressed and discouraged.  “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.  I mean, it wears me out just wrapping the hilts of a few swords.  How am I going to do all of this?” he said waving an arm at the room.  Ben looked around the room and shook his head.  “I don’t think I can.”

Jorem wasn’t sure what to say.  Franks had told him that Ben had a great talent for this kind of work.  But if Ben couldn’t do it anymore, what would he do for the rest of his life?  Sit in a corner and sob about what might have been?  Jorem wasn’t about to sit back and watch that happen.

“Why don’t we start with some of the smaller stuff that won’t take as long?” Jorem suggested.  “That way, you won’t have to do any heavy lifting and you can take a break whenever you need to.”

Ben didn’t look very excited about the idea.  He shrugged his shoulders with an air of resignation.  Jorem decided to take that as agreement and set about getting a small job set up to go.  Ben got one of the heavy leather aprons on and started picking through the hammers and tongs.

One repair was followed by a break and then another repair.  The work was slow and Ben’s mother stopped in several times during the day.  Even at the slow pace, it was amazing to watch Ben at work.  It was as if the metal was alive in his hands.  With each strike of the hammer, the metal twisted and curled to Ben’s will.  By the end of the day the blacksmith’s son was totally exhausted, but the look in his eyes told another story.  The repairs that they had done had, in and of themselves, been small and simple.  The effect that accomplishing them had on Ben was inspiring.  His eyes glinted as he finally laid down the hammer he had held in his hand.

Jorem had made a point of setting each finished item on a bench near the door.  As Ben was hanging up his apron, he reached over and touched one of the finished parts on the bench.  His touch was almost a caress as he ran his hand over the spot that had been mended.  A smile came to his face as he looked back at Jorem. 

Still grinning, Ben said, “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jorem replied.

As Ben walked through the doorway he stood a little taller.  The limp that had plagued him could hardly be noticed.  Watching the other boy go Jorem thought to himself,
“I think I’ll not be needed here much longer
.”  He should have felt relieved that it was almost over, but somehow it left him a little lost.

Jorem was just finishing cleaning up after the days work when he heard the door open.  When he turned he saw Jannett standing in the doorway.   She looked frightened, yet determined at the same time.  She walked into the room and stopped by one of the benches.  Her arms were folded tightly as if she were cold.  The door slowly swung closed.  When the door thumped closed it startled her so much she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Jannett stared fixedly at the bench top and braced herself.  “Father told me what you did.”  Her words sounded as if she had to force them out.  “He said I owe you my life, that you risked your life to save mine.”

Looking at her Jorem could see that she was scared.  She stood straight and tall but her eyes would not meet his.  For some reason, seeing her there, proud and fearful, he thought of Jen.  The day she healed his hand she had seemed so fragile for someone so strong. Thoughts of her brought a smile to his face.  Jannett, seeing his smile, misinterpreted his intent and blushed a deep crimson.

Jorem noticed the girl’s face and realized what she must be thinking.  No doubt his brothers would have taken advantage of the situation, he on the other hand had no need for an enemy like Pertheron.  Jannett was quite a beauty with her big brown eyes and long dark hair, but she wasn’t worth shaming the royal family over.  Shaking his head Jorem sat down on a stool and studied the top of the bench as though it were a new discovery.

When he was certain that he had control of himself Jorem looked at her.  “I only did what Ben would have done were he able, what any brother would do for his sister.”

Jannett considered Jorem for a while before responding. “Brother?”

“Your family has been very kind to me, I’ve become quite fond of them.  Besides, I’ve always wanted a sister.”

Her voice was a mere whisper as Jannett looked down at the floor.  “Ben was right you really are different.”  She looked up and a slight smile crossed her face.  “Thank you, and thank you for what you did for Ben.”  Without another word she turned and left the smithy.

 

Chapter XXV

 

To His Majesty King Halden

Father,

              I trust this missive finds you in good health.  My services with the

Blacksmith of Broughbor have come to an end.  The Blacksmith’s apprentice,

having regained his health, is returning to his duties.

              As I have had little time to visit the people in this part of the land,

I would request thy permission to remain here for a time.  If you require

my services at home, I will leave immediately and return to take up my duties.

 

Your Servant,

Prince Jorem

Jorem sat in his room staring at the letter he had just finished writing.  Several crumpled balls of paper lay on the floor at his feet.  He had been trying all morning to compose this letter so that it didn’t sound too whiny or personal.  He had no idea if anyone would even read it, as he had received no response to any of his previous letters.

The letter he had written to Jen had been much easier to write.  He had told her about the power stone before.  It would just be longer getting it to her than he had hoped.  He had considered sending it with a group of traders, but Sashia’s warning about the fragility of the stone made him reconsider.  He decided it would be best to deliver the stone to her himself.  It wouldn’t be that long before he was back at the castle.  At least he didn’t think it would be very long.

Folding the letter to his father neatly, he picked up the candle from his desk and dripped some of the liquid wax onto the seam of the paper.  Biorne had told him a group of travelers were headed for the capitol tomorrow and that he was welcome to join them.  The only reason Jorem could think of for him to return to the capitol was to see Pentrothe.  The old wizard had been both father and friend to him for as long as he could remember.

BOOK: HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir)
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