The Clovel Destroyer (2 page)

“
Because I’m old and you have
greater mettle. Besides, I have no love of the Aberffraw,” said the
warrior
quietly
as he looked at the bodies
near his mount’s feet. Urith realized it was the old fighter who
killed the remaining Aberffraw warriors. Wounded, the man still
killed two younger men.

“
Seems strange but that is your
affair. What is your name and why does a Vulthnal ride with
th
is trash raiding our lands?” Intrigued and
impressed by the warrior, Urith
had trouble
getting
the words out.

“
I’m called
Kirowan
. I’m an
outcast,
and the
Aberffraw gave me
koinons
to scout this land.
We were to report whether any warriors were in the area as part of
the main body traveling north. You forced these Aberffraw into a
fight,
so I was obligated to earn my
koinon
.” He reached down behind him to pull a
cloth from his bag. The Vulthnal warrior ripped off part of the
material
with his bloody fingers, stuffing the
piece into the wound in his side. The Esterblud instantly
recognized the name. Kirowan was known as one of the greatest
Vulthnal leaders before he was forced to flee his land when the sea
bandits took over.

“
I thought you foolish,” the enemy
warrior continued, “but, I admit that I would have done the same in
my youth. When my sword tip missed your eye
socket,
and I made the mistake of letting you strike me
in my hip, I knew.”

Urith waited
for him
to finish
his words, but the man turned his ossane away. “What did you know?”
Urith asked, his face now burning with a fiery intensity.

“
I realized you have the Fates
behind you.” The older warrior saw the look of disbelief on
Urith’s
injured face. “No, I’m in earnest. You
blindly lash
out,
and your sword is able to
penetrate the finest Vulthnal chain. In my past, I would have
struck
true,
and you would be dead. Afterward,
I would have feasted in the village with the remaining Aberffraw,
holding your sword as my trophy. But today, I bleed like you.” He
looked at his wound. “I’m too old to be a mercenary any longer. I
see evidence that my heart no longer matches the mettle of my
sword.”

“
You surprise me with your words.
The songs of Kirowan I’ve heard say nothing of mercy,” countered
Urith wondering if he was being lied to by the stranger. “Why did
you save me from the other warriors?”

Kirowan stared hard at him. “If you grow old, you
will learn differently. There are times when
a
fighter
must know which side has honor. A man cannot go
along with other, blinded by a few pieces of gold metal. Now, I
must tend my wound which will remain to remind me of our struggle
to my final days.” He began to ride away. “Take care of your
injury, my friend. I hope to meet you in Haligulf.”

“
Stop,” the Esterblud suddenly
shouted as an idea came to him. “Remove that enemy helmet, turn
your mount back to the village and follow the trail to the harbor.
Use my name to find a
cuggle
that will take
you home to Vulthnal. I must repay your fairness with
something.”

The man stopped for a long moment before turning his
ossane to the village. He pulled off the helmet, revealing a
younger looking face than Urith anticipated.
The
man’s gray hair and a few old battle scars on his face showed the
man’s actual age.
Kirowan looked at the helmet, before
tossing it to the ground. He gave the young Urith a tired smile,
his brown eyes gleaming.

“
I regret our unnecessary fight as
I would value you as a great ally and friend. Hopefully, I will see
my daughter when I return. If you come to Vulthnal, remember my
name. We will drink
heathmead
in remembrance
to
Heptarc
.”

Urith nodded, unable to speak from the pain that
enveloped his head. As Kirowan
rode along the
trail
toward the village, the Esterblud noticed the man
slowed his mount near one of the ossanes grazing by the side of the
trail. The Vulthnal retrieved the reins, turning the animal back to
Urith. When he rode up, he handed the reins to the Esterblud.”

“
Go to your army and find a
healer, my
noble
friend. There is no need to
stay. The Aberffraw will not come this way now. They will
understand the trail to this village is blocked by your tribe. No
need
to tell them we were stopped by
one great
warrior. That will be learned when you tell the skalds about your
adventure.” Kirowan gave him a wink before he rode off toward the
village, leaving Urith to marvel at the man who could have so
easily killed him. He slid his sword into the scabbard hooked to
his belt, then he pulled himself on the saddle. Slowly he followed
the Vulthnal warrior until the man faded out of sight. He was truly
happy to have met such a noble warrior.

It
had taken
two sunrises
before Urith reached the camp of his father and the warriors of his
tribe. During his journey, the Esterblud spent much of the time
tending the long laceration he
received
while
pondering his
insignificant
fight. While his
battle with Kirowan could be considered a draw, in the young
warrior’s mind, he lost. It was the first time Urith failed in
combat
, let alone having been wounded
s
everely
. Throughout his life, the giant
warrior always knew luck was with him. Even when he hunted down the
feared Clovel only a few seasons before, he came away with only
scratches and bruises. Killing one of the nearly indestructible
monsters of the underworld made him a legend among the Esterblud
lands. As he thought about things, he suddenly wondered if the
Fates may have abandoned him.

His thoughts quickly shifted to the present when he
came upon the stench and decay of many dead who lay scattered on
the forest floor. At first, the Esterblud wondered who left the
field victorious until he noticed only the Aberffraw dead could be
seen. As he pushed the ossane deeper into the leaf-covered ground,
he saw many of the bodies were naked, stripped by the peasants or
foresters for the clothes and armor. It was the final disgrace to
the warriors, but it supplied the locals with the means to survive
the aftermath of the bloody raids in the area. The warrior guided
his mount through the destruction until he reached a group of
Esterblud, piling their remaining dead on carts. Urith spotted
Guthlaf helping in the effort.

“
Urith, by the gods, is that you?”
Guthlaf cried
out,
and Urith nodded as he rode
up.

“
I’ve come from
Iffwer,
and I’m looking for
Uolven
.
I have news of the Aberffraw,” Urith whispered. The wounded warrior
noticed the dark cloud that crossed
Guthlaf’s
face at the mention of Urith’s father.

“
Your father helped send the
Aberffraw back to the sea. I saw Aberffraw ships leaving myself.”
His friend told Urith proudly. “We lost many good warriors, and
some of the worst of the Aberffraw stayed in the area, becoming
outlaws as they prey upon the locals. King Penhda will soon come to
wipe out these bandits.”

“
But where is my father?” Urith
grew impatient.

Guthlaf looked down, “I heard your father was
injured,
and they have sent him to a healer in
the city.” He looked closer at Urith. “Come, we need to find a
healer for you.”

Shaking his head, Urith growled. “No, I must find
Uolven
first. I must complete my duties.”

“
Then, I will go with you to find
him,” said the blonde warrior to his friend. Urith shook his head,
but Guthlaf insisted. “We are nearly finished here. Your father
must be in Gramcan by now. An extra pair of eyes and ears can help
you.” Urith
agreed,
and Guthlaf told the
others to finish their work, reminding them to return to Gramcan
when they finished. Urith waited while his friend retrieved his
ossane, and the two comrades followed the narrow trail out of the
darkening forest. As one of the best warriors of the tribe, Guthlaf
had many knots on his baudrik belt, and he often acted as an older
brother to Urith. The giant Esterblud cared for Guthlaf in much the
same way, looking
at
him as a mentor, valuing
his advice and admiring his skills.

“
I know you are worried about
Uolven,
but he is nearly a demigod,” Guthlaf
joked. “Besides, you need to fix that face. Your wife won’t
recognize you.”

The image of his beautiful
Earmis
suddenly came to Urith. As the two friends exited
this thinning forest, moving into the rocky ridge leading to the
largest port city of southern Esterblud,
Urith's
mind wandered to thoughts of his wife, and he
could almost smell the lavender oil she wore. As he thought of her
warmth and tenderness, he remembered he had much to be thankful
for. Perhaps the gods were
kind
to
him;
he
felt
when he looked over the
vast
bay from which many Esterblud
raiders
left to destroy their enemies. As they rode along
the high, narrow ridge, he took in the majesty of the ocean which
seemed to call to him. The warrior enjoyed the damp chill of the
ocean breeze, breathing it in deeply and allowing it to
clear
his head. It reminded him how much he preferred to
sail the
Maflow
Sea. Someday, he hoped
to go
beyond the known world and to seek out
new lands. It was something he had dreamed since he took his first
boat journey with his father.

“
The cursed forest is too dry, it
seems like a tinder box,” his friend spoke up, tired of the quiet.
Guthlaf’s long blonde hair whipped in the breeze covering his
balding area on occasion. “I told the men to be careful with the
fire on the beach. We don’t need to give more cursed spirits to
Caruun
.”

Urith said nothing as he ran his tongue over the
area where he was now missing teeth, lost to the sword blow to his
face. He still tasted the blood on occasion. Nodding, he agreed,
knowing the god of the underworld had a reputation of touching off
disasters to bring more victims to his spirit world. It was not a
pleasant place for those who die so ignobly. To die in battle was
the only assurance a human had for everlasting peace among the sky
gods.

However, the sound of hoof beats brought him back to
the present. He saw riders in green moving quickly from a secondary
trail, coming toward them. He stopped his ossane in their path
while Guthlaf hailed for them to stop. The men looked at Urith
momentarily before recognizing him.

“
We are searching for Uolven,”
Guthlaf told them. One of the warriors told them that he heard
Urith’s father was in a small village just outside of Gramcan. The
man said the healer tending to Uolven was one of the best in the
lands.

Urith pushed past them, “I’m going there,” he
growled,
and Guthlaf pulled in behind him. The
others watched them for a moment before they continued their
travels into the forest.

It was a hard ride for Urith, worrying about his
father while trying to ignore the pain coming from his cheek. At
one point he stopped to clean the wound with spring water. However,
he knew the cut, which ran from his lip back to near his ear,
needed more attention than he could give it. Frustrated by the
pain, he dug his heels into the ossane, recklessly pushing the
animal as the road narrowed across the top of the ridge. When he
reached the top, he could see the outskirts of Gramcan which would
still take another day’s ride to pass the city gates. However, he
still could not see the object of his search, the village of
Darykans
. Nestled in the valley below them,
the Esterblud knew the town lay at the crossroads of two roads near
the
Arnul
River
. The
river was the last
significant
barrier to
Gramcan and
central
for the
trade
routes between the forest and coast.

“
It won’t be long now,” his friend
told him as if reading his thoughts. If he could, Urith would have
smiled. Guthlaf was always the optimist.

Near the end of the day, they reached the stone
bridge
on
the outskirts of the Darykans.
Quickly covering the long span of the river, they found the stable
where they left their mounts. The man who took their ossanes
pointed to a small building near the tavern where the healer lived.
Urith covered the ground quickly to the building while his friend
hurried to keep up. Ducking his head to enter the front room, the
Esterblud nearly ran over the small man who tried to bar his way.
Pushing past him, Urith knelt beside his father, staring at his
ashen face. The tall man lay propped up on a short wooden
bed
just inside the door, his legs hanging
uncomfortably over the edge.
Uolven’s
eyes
were
closed,
and his breathing labored. His
chain mail removed, the bloodstained holes of the undergarment
showed several entry points of his wounds. Urith knew without
asking
that the
massive
blood stains on the chest
were
the result of a
spear wound.

“
He will go to the gods,” the old
healer whispered into the son’s ear. Urith’s reflexes took over,
grabbing the man by the throat as he stood up.