The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (2 page)

Kenner had seen it before on the rare times he felt safe enough to venture out from his forest.  There was something about the sight of the city off in the distance that seemed to call to him; almost beckon him to it.  But his father had told him stories of corruption and injustice that hid behind its mighty walls.

“No man ever goes in there,” his father said, “and remains honest.”

             
“What lives behind those walls is like a plague that weakens and fells even the strongest of women and men.  Many have ventured in with a mind to bring the city and Walechia back to its former days of glory only to be bought with gold and made only carriers of the disease.”

              A long time ago, his father had told him, Walechia was the greatest kingdom in the world.  He told him endless stories of the great kings who represented honor and justice and such were poured upon the people of the nation, regardless of their wealth or station.  It was a proud nation standing as tall in the world as the Great Tower itself.  All the other nations looked upon Walechia as a shining example of true greatness.  But those days were long gone, his father told him.  Slowly the very idea of justice was torn down by the greed and men and women forgetting the need or will of the people in favor of their own petty desires.  The wealthy sought to make their own lives and names more glorious while seeing to it that ordinary people were deprived of power or voice.  A land that once proclaimed that none would know hunger or be deprived now let the poor starve for all the promise of life and liberty so that the rich and powerful could have more of the things they stole from those in dire need.  It was a mere empty shell of its former greatness, his father told him.  And a return to such greatness was only a distant dream.

Still, the city seemed to beckon him, but he never thought he would ever actually see inside the city’s walls.  He snorted a laugh at the thought that he would go inside the city for, what would sure to be his death.

“Something funny?” the Captain asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He answered.

              One of the soldiers with Belfor tied to his horse then bolted, yelling and laughing while the young man was dragged behind him.  The captain, who did not have anyone tied to his horse chased him down and struck him across the head.

“You stupid fool!” He yelled at the soldier.  “You should pray you are never captured. “ 

He then turned and called to the rest of his company.

“The next man who mistreats my prisoners in any way will be dragged behind my horse all the way to the city!  Do you understand?”

They all answered with a loud “Yes, sir!”

              For the rest of the day until the sun down, the company plodded its way towards the city which grew larger and larger with each step.  Kenner had thick, leather boots made by his father for him.  His cousins however walked barefoot and as he looked behind at them, he could see their feet begin to swell.  Occasionally, one of the soldiers would give them a flask with water to drink.  Though only spring, it was warmer than usual and the three, raised in the forest were not used to the sun beating directly down on them.

             
“What do you think they’ll do to us?” Malton asked.

“Silence!” One soldier ordered and pulled on the rope.  Malton stumbled and fell.  He was starting to be dragged by the horse when Kenner helped him back to his feet.

As the sun set behind them, it cast beams of yellow and orange light against the city walls and the Tower.  The white marble of the city reflected this light making it seem almost to sparkle like morning dew.  Kenner had heard of this effect before, but had never seen it.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” The Captain asked Kenner who was now tied behind him.

“Yes it is.” Kenner answered.  “I’m glad I was able to see it before I died.”

             
The Captain then turned and again looked at Kenner with his sad eyes.

“You don’t know that you’re going to die.” He said.

“I don’t know that I’m going to live either.”

The Captain seemed to look over Kenner as if examining him.

“Are you not afraid of death?”

Anger stirred momentarily in Kenner.  Only a coward fears death, he was taught.

“My father taught me never to fear death.” He said sternly.

“He must have been a soldier.”

“Yes, he was; and a proud one.”

“All soldiers are proud of themselves, but not necessarily what they’ve done.”

             
That night, they slept in the shadow of the White City.  The full moon seemed to make the city glow in the night like a white shadow.  The prisoners were tied to each other and made to sleep on the open ground.  The Captain gave orders that they were to be given water and some food.  And before the Captain went to sleep himself, he reminded his company that the prisoners were not to be mistreated.  Kenner looked to the sky and the stars above him.

“Well, my lady.  I’m not sure what you have planned for me.  But if this is to be my last night in this world, I am grateful for the time you have given me.  I am also grateful my father did not live to see me die in such a way.  He tried so hard to teach me to be a good and honorable man and I will not use the excuse of the life I was born to as an excuse for how I became nothing more than a starving poacher.  But if he is waiting for me on the other side, I hope he can forgive me for a life that amounted to nothing.”

              As he finished his prayer, he saw a shooting star streak across the heavens.  And then for reasons he would never fully understand, he felt a wave of good feelings wash across him almost like a warm, gentle wave.  Suddenly, he felt that everything was going to be alright and that everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

Chapter Two

             
As was his custom, Captain Krall woke before the rest of his men.  Walking through the encampment, he looked at the young faces of his soldiers sleeping peacefully on the ground.  Mere children, he thought to himself.  They had no idea of the realities of being a soldier.  They were only pretending, he thought; only playacting at being warriors.  He’d served for thirty years.  He left his family’s farm looking for adventure and had served in two wars; facing and killing both men and beasts.  In his dreams and in days where there was no sound, he could still hear the screams of men he knew, friends he’d seen dying around him.  His scars still ached and burned from wounds suffered many years before. How many of these mere boys would die in a real conflict, he asked himself?  How many would he send to their deaths by his own command?

              Then he found himself standing over the three young boys captured for poaching.  They were three more children, he thought; three hungry boys simply hunting food.  But there was something about the leader of this group; and he was definitely their leader.  There was something familiar about him.  His young face, black, curly hair and dark eyes seemed somewhat familiar; like someone he once knew a long time ago.  He felt a stab of sadness in his bones at the thought.  But he couldn’t quite place the face he thought he knew.

              “Something on your mind, sir?” His Sergeant asked.

“You’re up early.” He answered.

“I wouldn’t be much of a Sergeant if I didn’t wake with my Captain.  Besides, the only way to get hot coffee around here is to make it yourself.”  He then handed the Captain a steaming cup.

“That’s for sure.” The Captain said.

“Is that a smile on your face, sir?”

“I permit myself at least one a day.”

             
Captain Krall sighed deeply.

“Why do you think they were poaching?” He asked his Sergeant.

“One look at these three and I’d say it was because they were hungry.”

“Precisely.  I’d be willing to bet these three haven’t had a decent meal in a month.”

“We’ve been hearing reports of at least twenty deer taken in the last three weeks, sir.”

“They’ve probably got families to feed somewhere in that forest.”

“You’re not thinking of letting them go, are you sir?”

The Captain then took a thoughtful drink from his cup.

“The law applies to everyone or no one.” He said.  “That includes starving peasants.”

              Kenner stirred from his light sleep to find two soldiers staring at him.

“Something on your mind?” he asked them.

“You have a lot of defiance for a young man tied hand and foot.” The Sergeant said to him.  He could tell his rank by the letter “S” on his right shoulder.

“Cut me loose and I’ll show how defiant I can be.”

             
In truth, Kenner was afraid; more afraid than he could remember being in a long time.  But he wasn’t about to let a company of Walechian soldiers know that.  The Sergeant approached him and he tried to raise himself.

“We could have killed you where we found you.” The Sergeant told him.  “Lucky for you our Captain has this strange notion that even poachers deserve justice.”

“If it’s the same justice I’ve seen with my eyes,” Kenner growled, “then you can keep it.”

“What have you seen?” The Captain said, almost angrily.

“Let me see,” Kenner began with a sarcastic tone; “I’ve seen livestock stolen or simply killed for sport.  I’ve seen women raped, old men and young boys murdered.  Should I go on?”

The Captain then stood directly over Kenner.

“When have you seen these things?”

“Throughout my life; all from soldiers bearing the Great Tower on their armor.”

             
Captain Krall was angered but not surprised at these accusations.  He’d heard many stories of soldiers going into the villages in the woods and committing crimes.  Very few had ever been caught and even fewer punished.  It sickened him to think that some who wore the same uniform he so proudly wore could stoop so low; but there was nothing he could do.  He could only control the men who served directly under his own command.

“I assure you,” Krall said, trying to sound comforting, “you will be judged fairly and justly.”

             
Kenner was not convinced, though there was something in the Captain’s voice that sounded honest. 

“You can do what you want with me,” he said.  “But my cousins are innocent.  I hunted the stag and I shot it.  I’m the only one who should be punished.”

             
When the sun rose, the company of soldiers was awoken from their slumber.  As the soldiers ate breakfast and began to break camp, Kenner’s cousins awoke as well.

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Belfor asked

“I don’t know,” Kenner answered, though he felt it a lie.  He didn’t feel it wise to tell his two younger cousins that they were likely about to die.  The Captain, he thought sounded sincere when he said that they would be judged fairly.  Unfortunately, Kenner knew that the Captain was not to be their judge.

His father had told him all about Walechian “justice.”  The rich were allowed to indulge in their most degraded wills while the, once famous Walechian courts looked the other way.  At the same time, the poorer the ordinary citizen of Walechia, the more likely they would die for the least offense.  The most “justice” a poor man or woman of Walechia could hope for was to waste away in prison or to be cast out; banished to the hills or badlands that bordered the Walechian nation.

The three young men were given water and army “hard tack,” a kind of bread used for rations for breakfast while the soldiers ate the rest of the venison from yesterday’s stag.  It was the first time in nearly a year that Kenner could remember eating two days in a row.  They were tied to three horses; Kenner himself tied to the horse of the Captain, and then led back towards the looming walls of the White City.

Chapter Three

              By early afternoon, they had reached the main road leading into the city.  The hard packed clay crunched underneath their feet as Kenner and his cousins were led behind the horsemen.  Looking back, he could see his cousin Malton, only fifteen years old limping badly.  He looked at his bare feet and saw open sores bleeding.