Legend of the Swords: War (6 page)

“Haha! Yeah, George, you tell him!”

“So, if you don’t mind,” the leader of the band of three continued, “we’ll be taking the money this innkeeper has—”

“And some beer! Hahah!”

“Shut UP, Len!” George yelled.

The third man shuffled his feet, looking down. “I don’t think you should yell at my brother like that, George.”

“Adam, we can talk about that later. We’re
busy
right now. This
nice
man over there was going to put his sword away for us so that nobody would get hurt.”

Renek strode three long steps forward, putting himself in between the brigands and the bar. He lifted his sword, pointing it right at the leader’s chest, and squared his shoulders. “George, is it?” The tall one nodded. “Well, here’s my proposition. You leave, and we forget that this happened.”

George shrugged. “You haven’t told me your name, stranger.” Renek blinked, but said nothing. After a long pause, George continued. “I don’t think we’ll be leaving, stranger, not with three of us here and you the only one willing to stand up.” He glanced nervously over at the two other men, and back to Renek. “Why don’t YOU leave and let us go about our business, then you won’t have to get hurt.”

Renek shrugged. George looked over at Adam, and gestured at Renek. “Adam, get ‘im.”

Adam advanced, swinging his sword easily about him. He was a little less than ten feet away when he jumped forward, lunging, reaching out with his long sword for Renek’s flesh.

Renek didn’t think; it was as if his muscles had the memory that he lacked. Adam must have been ill, or malnourished, because he was moving slowly. Despite Renek’s lack of a pommel, he easily parried Adam’s blade, pushing it out towards the bar. Adam had overextended in an attempt to surprise, and Renek took advantage of it, jumping forward slightly and sliding his blade along Adam’s, pushing him further off balance. Adam had to move his back foot to stay upright, and he wavered just a bit.

Renek quickly pushed Adam’s sword down, and lifted his hilt—higher than he had intended to, the lack of a counterbalance was irritating—as he spun his blade around Adam’s like it was light wood instead of steel. His looping blade caught Adam’s, and Adam was unable to hold on; his eyes widened in surprise as his sword flew into the room, and clattered on the floor.

Renek continued his sword’s motion, and flicked it across Adam’s body. Since it was blade-heavy, it hit Adam’s left hand with surprising force. Adam yelled in pain as the sword bit deeply, and his dagger fell, following his sword onto the floor.

Weaponless, Adam looked at Renek for a moment, holding his bleeding hand. “You’re a devil!” he yelled, backing up. “Nobody moves that fast, it’s impossible!” He turned and ran to George, who was also backing up.

Renek felt as if he was coming out of a trance. He looked down at his bloody sword, and the hand the held it, in surprise. What was he talking about? Adam had been slow.
I suppose to someone that slow, I must seem fast,
he reasoned.

Len was sputtering in rage. George didn’t say a word, but he grabbed Len’s clothing and dragged him through the door. Adam followed, still making noises about ‘the devil is in him.’ The door slammed shut with a satisfying thunk.

 Renek looked at the two men, who were staring back with mouths hanging open. “You had better check on your horses, they might still be thinking about thievery.”

As they got up and rushed out, Renek walked over to the bar and picked up a rag to clean his sword with. Freiya looked over the counter at him, smiling but still wary.

“That was some nice work there,” Freiya said.

Renek nodded. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “You were mighty fast, they were right.”

She seemed to be considering something, so Renek filled in the empty space while she thought. “I dunno,” he said, “maybe they were just slow.”

Freiya shook her head, frowning. “No, you were fast. I’ve seen soldiers brawling before.” Her frown turned into a thin smile. “You can stay and eat here tonigh’, no charge.” She put 7 copper down on the counter, and Renek raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Yea, no charge. Thank’ee. That were a good thing you did, helping me like that.”

Renek sheathed his sword and picked up the coin. “You’re welcome. Just try to ‘pay it forward’ and help someone else, okay? That’s why I helped you—I owe someone, and so I’m helping you.” He turned to walk back to his table and food. As he smelled the food, he realized that he was ravenous, absolutely starving for food. He rushed to his bowl of stew.

The old woman smiled. She poured another mug of beer and brought it over to Renek, who was busy wolfing down his food. “You came from that Abbey up on the mountain, didn’t ya? They’re always talking about helping people.” Her eyes narrowed. “They must’ve done you a good turn, for you to help a stranger like me.”

Renek looked up at Freiya, spoon in mouth, and nodded. She visibly relaxed.

Thomas and Will came back inside. “Well, you were right.” Thomas huffed as he sat down at the table. “They were in the middle of untying our horses. We chased them off.” He looked at Renek. “I think they were afraid that you were going to follow us out there. They hightailed it pretty fast when we yelled at them.”

“Good.” Renek managed to say in between bites.

“That was some pretty nice dueling, there. You must be an experienced soldier.” He paused, searching Renek’s face. “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. Do you think that you could take Will, here, as an apprentice? I’ve never thought about giving him up, but, you seem a good man…Will mentioned it outside, that he would like to do that.”

Renek took his time finishing his stew, mopping the last of the liquid up with the hard bread. He looked across the table carefully at the man and his boy. Will was round-eyed, full of hope, but the man seemed less happy. He wasn’t smiling.

“Thomas, right?” The older man nodded. “Thomas, I’m not a knight, I can’t take apprentices.” Thomas’s look of relief was clear.

“Well, I suppose I still need him on the farm, anyway. Too much work for an old man like me by myself.” Will looked crestfallen, but didn’t say anything.

Renek drank his beer, warm and foamy, and stood up. “I agree. Will, you’ll be happier this way. It’s not right to leave your father in the lurch.” Will looked chagrined, as if he had only now thought of the consequences of what he had suggested to his father. “And now, I am tired, and would like to go in to bed.” He realized as he said the words that they weren’t just an excuse; his stomach seemed as heavy as lead, and that heaviness was radiating outwards to the rest of his body. He was
tired
, as tired now as he had been hungry earlier.

He turned and looked over his shoulder. “Freiya, where is my room?”

“Down the hall, second door on your right.”

“Thank you.” He nodded at Thomas and Will, and then walked out of the room.

Renek’s room was very small. The bed fit in it, but the door brushed the blankets as it opened. There was a small nightstand with a candle and a pitcher of water on it, and that was it. Nothing more would have fit.

He stepped in, leaned over the nightstand to make room for the door, and closed it firmly. He dropped the simple latch into place, pushed his pack up against the door to make some noise in case lock didn’t work, and slumped on the bed to fall asleep while still fully clothed.

He thought of the skirmish, and his apparent speed of movement, and how his body knew what to do with a sword better than his mind did. He shook his head slightly, and shivered under the covers.

“Who — or what — am I?” he muttered to himself.

* * *

Amazingly, Renek awoke at the beginnings of dawn, feeling completely refreshed. He collected his things and splashed some water on his face from the pitcher by his bed. The water didn’t smell drinkable—it was dusty and murky—but it helped wake him up. It was still early when he came out of his room.

He entered the common room to find the innkeeper placing day-old rolls on the floor of the fireplace to warm them.

“Are those for your guests?”

Freiya jumped up, hitting her head on the fireplace with an audible
thunk
. “Ah, didn’t hear you come in, sire.” She rubbed the back of her head. “Aye, they be for ye. I don’ have no other guests right now.

“Would ye be wantin’ some eggs, or mebbe some corn grits? I like me a bit o’ hot food in the mornin’, I can make some extry for ye.”

“Eggs would be good, Freiya. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, aye, it’s no problem. Have yourself some of that water if ye like.” Freiya shuffled outside, presumably to the henhouse to gather some eggs. Renek saw the pitcher of water that Freiya had offered on one of the tables, with a glass next to it. He sat down and sniffed the pitcher. Finding it fresher than the pitcher in his room, he poured a glass and drank.

Freiya came in a few seconds later carrying a load of eggs in her apron. She grabbed a sooty pan that was hanging next to the fire in the back, and scooped some grease into it. Renek sat and watched her as she cracked a dozen eggs into the pan, which was black with soot from the fire.

“The soot helps the eggs not stick,” Freiya called over her shoulder. “Saved me more than one mess, hangin’ the pot in the smoke of the fire.” She was holding a large piece of cloth, folded over many times, between the pan and his hand. “‘Course, the grease helps too.” She was quite dexterous, even through the cloth, as she swirled the pan in and next to the fire. With a quick flip of her wrists, she got the eggs to ride up the side of the pan and curl gently back down onto their yolks. No yellow seeped out—the yolks were still intact. Renek clapped in appreciation, and the woman shook her head, embarrassed, but clearly pleased.

“I’ve been doin’ that for years, I have.” She set the pan down and ran across to the bar to grab two plates. After putting the eggs onto one plate, she pulled out a knife and cut them in two large groups of fried eggs, and slid half of them onto the second plate. She handed the second plate to Renek and sat down with him.

“Have you owned the tavern for a while, then?” Renek asked.

“Oh, aye, twenty years now it’s been.” She pulled a couple of forks out of her pocket and handed one across the table. Renek grabbed the fork and began to eat, and Freiya did the same. “Thing abou’ the soot, it makes those eggs taste ok, don’t you think?” She cut another egg and started eating. “‘Course, the grease helps too.”

They ate in silence for a while. The eggs were tasty, with the yolks runny but thick from the heat of the fire. The rolls were hot and had one side toasted nicely. Freiya was the first to break the silence after their meal.

“So, where are you headed, then?” She leaned back, looking at Renek.

“I don’t really know. I had thought to go look for the battle, help the locals against their foes.”

“Those foes would be the Triols, friend. They’re a nasty bunch.” She leaned forward, the legs of her chair giving a firm
thunk
as they hit the floor. “They’ll gut you and tie you up with your entrails, they will, and leave you to die. I’ve heard tell that if you struggle with yer guts tied around you, it feels like you’re stepping on your own insides.” She shook her head. “No way to treat a human bein’, if you ask me. Kill him straight up, give him a decent burial, I say.”

“Well, I don’t really have anywhere better to go.” He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know anyone in the area, and I seem to be pretty good with a sword.”

“That ye are, friend.”

“So maybe I should put my talent to use for a good cause.” He dropped his chair legs back onto the floor, and stood up. “What direction should I travel, Freiya?”

Freiya considered. “I think ye should go out the door an’ turn east. Go past me chicken coop near the road and see if you can see the dust trail those soldiers always kick up.”

“How will I know the Triols from the kingdom’s soldiers?”

“Aye, ye are from far away.” She nodded. “A good question to ask, then. The Triols wear blue and white, have spikes on their armor, and speak our tongue but poorly. Our lads wear red, have a crest of red with a rearing horse.” She scratched her head. “I think the horse is wearin’ a crown.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He turned towards the door, but Freiya spoke again.

“Before ye go, lad, you should know—” She shook her head again. “It’s bad out there.”

“We’re losing?”

“No.” She paused to reconsider. “Well, aye, mebbe we’re losing, slowly—but that’s not what I meant. I mean that our king, he’s … he’s been concerned with this war for a long time. We’ve been at war, or preparin’ for war, for years now. Mebbe as long as I been keepin’ this inn.” She shook her head yet again. “Some people out there have been hurtin’ for a long time.”

Renek looked at Freiya. She seemed tired and troubled. The lines around her eyes were deep. “Thanks, Freiya. I’ll try and do what I can.” He smiled tentatively.

Freiya smiled broadly in return. “Well, if last night means anything, then the Triols won’t know what hit em.” She laughed aloud. “Do your best, young sire. Do your best!”

Renek strode to the door, but paused and turned back for a moment. “I will. And see if you can help someone to repay the help I gave you last night. Pay it forward.” He looked at her smile, framed in the doorway for just a moment, and then turned and left.

I hope Freiya’s smile lasts all day, though.

*   *   *

Freiya’s directions were easy to follow: there was a large tail of dust wafting into the sky to the east. He followed the road, since it led that way and it was easier to walk on. The road also led back towards the mountain range that he had come down the day before, although it seemed to be heading towards another peak. The battle was clearly taking place on the plains north and east of the mountain range, but quite a distance away.

His walk took him past a few fields that were in good shape, but by mid-morning, he was passing farms that had been destroyed. It seemed clear that the armies had been through the area and had taken every scrap of food and clothing that they could put their hands on. One farmhouse had been burnt to the ground.