The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu (9 page)

As they slowly picked their way down the narrow, switch backed trail, Hadaras thought on the dreams his young charge was having of late.  Always the dreams revolved around the common thread of colors.  Sometimes liquid, sometimes light or vapors, sometimes even solids or his own flesh, the colors and their associated powers, were always the central focus of the dreams.  It was a concept the old sorcerer was familiar with, from his long study of magic.  The blue power of order was, traditionally the only form available to elves.  The Adversary and his halfblood sorcerers preferred the red power of chaos.  The other colors he knew, but they were available exclusively to the Alient, not mortals.  The boy impeccably described the properties of the various colors.   In one such dream, he was healing the injured with glowing yellow hands.  In another, he described pulling down a mountainside with the red light of chaos.  He then raised a forest upon the destruction with a shower of glowing green rain.  Hadaras knew that these were visions, not dreams.  Somehow, the Allfather was communicating to the boy and instructing him in the ways of magic, while he slept.  Most interesting, was the lad’s description of white, the blend of all colors.  Aleron described it as the power of transformation.  With the white, he could change one substance to another, or change himself into something else.  He described running free across the plains as a wolf and flying high above Aertu as a bird.  In so doing, he accurately described places he had never been, to the point that his grandfather knew the exact location to which he was referring.   What Hadaras found most troubling were Aleron’s descriptions of elvish wielders of red magic.  They were a supposed impossibility, but they were scattered throughout the boy’s dreams.  He could not let on to his grandson how much he knew about everything the boy was telling him.  Posing as a man, he could not seem to possess any more than a scholarly knowledge of magic.  Sorcerous ability cropped up only rarely among men in these days since the halfblood caste was diluted.  Granted, there were the scattered halfbloods like Cladus roaming Aertu, but for the ability to manifest in an ordinary man, was highly improbable. Though not unheard of, it involved a concentration into a single individual, of elvish traits present only at low levels in the population.

One afternoon, when Aleron asked him whether he was dreaming about magic, Hadaras answered, “That appears to be the case Aleron,” continuing, “but I know not why you would be dreaming of such things nearly every night.  It must mean something though.”

“But I only recall reading about the blue and red, when it comes to magic.  The story of the final battle of the Great War said that blue and red magic shot like lightning across the sky and the weapons glowed in those colors too.”

“Those two are the colors allowed for elves and men.  Elves wielded the blue exclusively, while men were capable of wielding either, depending on their alignment,” Hadaras answered.

“Where there ever men who wielded both?” Aleron inquired

“Yes, there were some, who began on the side of good, who were swayed by the lies of the Nameless one.  Once they wielded the red power of the Adversary, they never returned to the wielding of blue.”

“That’s odd,” the boy mused. “In my dreams, I can switch from one to the other easily and sometimes I blend the two.  When I do that, it makes this purple light, that’s good for moving big things.  It’s like a mix of brute force and precision.  I dreamed I was using it to lift huge boulders and hurl them to a spot leagues away, where they were needed to build something.  Then I used the blue light to cut them into perfectly square blocks.”

“What were you building?”

“It looked like some sort of fortress, a tower with walls four arm-spans thick, but what about the other colors Grandfather?”

“A tower, interesting…The other colors were known to exist, but from what I’ve read from scholars of magic, the others were not for mortals.”

“Oh…” The boy stopped his questioning and rode along, seemingly deep in thought.

Hadaras thought on that and other conversations he and Aleron had on the subject of the boy’s dreams. 
Could the red be wielded without the wielder becoming evil?  Red was associated with death and decay, but were those forces not necessary for new life to arise?  The red force of disorder could be seen as complimentary to the green force of growth, as much as it opposes the blue force of order.  The lad claims that none of the forces seemed inherently good or evil, just that good or evil individuals preferred one to the others, definitely food for thought. 
He wondered what all these visions meant for Aleron.  They were starting early, for one thing.  Most halfbloods didn’t start showing signs of ability until well into their seventeenth year and elves, much later than that.  For Aleron to be experiencing visions, not even into his sixteenth year, was prodigious, to say the least.  His thoughts returned to the trail.  The narrowing, just ahead, meant they would dismount and lead the horses on foot.

***

Cladus took in the details of the kitchen, as Jessamine prepared tea for them.  It was comfortably spacious, but just so, without being wasteful of space.  The architecture of the cottage was simple, spare and unadorned, but still quite graceful, very elvish in its sensibilities. The hardwood planks of the floor were beautifully polished and waxed, a rarity in a country cottage.  “You have a very beautiful house,” he said, for lack of anything better to break the ice. 

“Thank you Cladus.  That’s kind of you to say about our modest little abode,” Jessamine replied.  “Hadaras told me about you.  He said you possess remarkable abilities of perception.”

“I suppose so,” the bard agreed.  “It comes in handy in my profession, to anticipate what the customer would like to hear next.”

“So, what do you perceive in me?”  She asked, as she set the teacups on the table and took her seat across from him.

He hesitated a moment, before replying, “Like Hadaras, I sense you are not a child of men, though you may appear to be.  But I also sense that you are not an elf, but something more ancient still.”

“That will suffice, I believe you are as Hadaras said you were,” she concluded.  “At this time, it is probably best not to go into detail about who I am, though I’m sure you can come to your own conclusions.”

“Understood Milady.”

“Now, what did you perceive about my dear Hadaras?” she inquired.

“I have arrived at my own conclusions on that as well, Milady.  I sensed that he is impossibly old, even for an elf and ‘Hadaras’ is only one of many names he has gone by.  There is something beyond elvish in his makeup.  He is possibly the most powerful sorcerer I have ever encountered.  That was all I could gather from him, the rest was too closely guarded.”

“That is certainly an impressive skill you have there, Cladus and it appears to be a passive one, that doesn’t require you to probe the individual you read.  I felt no intrusion, though your assessment of me was accurate,” she admitted.  “What did you sense of our young Aleron?”

“Well, with that lad, there it becomes complicated.”

Chapter 9

Carpathday, Day 16, Growing Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar

The ferryman said, “One silver piece for you and the boy and one and a half for each of the horses.  That makes for five and a half silver.”

“I don’t have any half-pieces with me,” Hadaras explained.  “Will you take five even?”

“Don’t you worry my good man,” the ferryman replied.  “I have plenty of half pieces.  Give me six and I’ll give you back a half.”

“Very well,” Hadaras agreed, opening his coin pouch.  The man was obviously not interested in haggling.

“Thank you kind sir,” the old man said, after receiving his money.  The boat won’t depart for another half-bell or so.  Have to wait and see if a few more customers show up.”  He had the look of an old sailor and probably saved his pennies for years to buy this boat and the rights to this route.  The dozen oarsmen rested in place, obviously not interested in embarking any sooner than necessary.  “That’s a strapin’ young lad you have there.  He your grandson?”

“Yes he is,” Hadaras replied.

“Does he know how to use that sword on his side?” the ferryman asked, with doubt in his tone.

“More than passably,” Hadaras answered, adding, “He’s probably more than a match for most of the trained recruits in the ranks.”   A couple of the bored looking oarsmen perked up at the statement.

“I’m going to join the army or the navy next year, after I turn sixteen,” Aleron interjected, beaming at his grandfather’s compliment.

“Go for the navy youngster,” the old sailor offered.  “Sea pay is better’n land pay, plus you get to see more of the world, cause you get places faster.  If you’re really that good with a sword, the marines would likely take you in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll definitely take that into account.”

The ferryman smiled and patted Aleron on the shoulder, as they guided the horses up the loading ramp and onto the boat.  As they tied off the horses to the center railing, they saw dust in the distance.  Soon two riders came into view, hurrying to catch the ferry.  Apparently, they would have company after all on this trip. 

The new arrivals dismounted and commenced negotiating the fare with the boat’s owner.  The horsemen were decked out in the Sudean royal livery of blue tabards emblazoned with a four-pointed star, in gold.  “Royal couriers, by the look of them,” Hadaras said of the men as they paid the fare.  They led the lathered mounts onto the boat, as the ferryman scanned the distance for any more late arrivals.  He untied from the dock and hopped onboard, pulled up the loading gate and proceeded to the tiller.  On cue, the oarsmen lowered the oars into the water and pulled in unison.  The ferry pulled away from the dock as the pilot lowered the tiller and pushed as if attempting a hard left.  As the oarsmen pulled, the ferry canted into the current, appearing as if to aim far to the north of the city, when in fact they were travelling straight across to the dock on the opposite bank.  Fully half their effort went toward fighting the current of the Arun as it flowed to the sea. 

“Are you really Royal Couriers?” Aleron inquired of the men who had joined them.

“Aye,” said one, a tall red-haired man of about thirty, with what looked to be perpetual sunburn. 

He didn’t seem interested in elaborating, but that did not deter Aleron from asking, “Do you like it?  I mean, is it exciting?”

“It’s a job, just like any other,” said the second courier, a bit younger than the first and not as tall, with sandy hair.  He was a bit more friendly to the boy, continuing, “It’s better than soldiering at least.  The hours are still long, but I get to sleep in my own bed more often than when I was in the ranks.  Not nearly as exiting though.  This is more of a settling down and raising a family job, than an exciting one.”

“Aye, that it is,” agreed the tall redhead, loosening up a bit.  “Being a soldier’s a young man’s job.  Once you got a wife and younguns, bein’ out campaigning isn’t so much fun anymore.”

“I keep telling the lad he should think about university, but he wants a career at arms,” Hadaras said.

“He can read?” asked the older courier.

“Four languages and working on the fifth,” Hadaras informed him.

“Damn boy, you could be a court scribe.  Why would you want a soldier’s life when you could life at the palace and make twice the money?”

“What Grandfather isn’t telling you, is that he’s been teaching me to fight for almost as long as he’s been teaching me to read,” Aleron interjected.

“Your good with that sword then?” the younger one asked, looking from Aleron to Hadaras for confirmation.

Hadaras nodded, as Aleron answered, “I’m not too bad, I think.  It’s hard to say, since I only fight my grandfather and a couple of my friends.”

“I wouldn’t mind sparring with you for a bit, if you’re willing and your grandfather doesn’t mind,” the young courier announced.  “We have a little time, don’t we Karl?”

“We can spare a few minutes Bruno,” the elder answered.

“I have no problem with it,” Hadaras agreed, “as long as we lay down a few ground rules first.”

“Agreed then,” Aleron stated.

The ferry was nearing the opposite bank and the ferryman lifted the tiller out of the water.  The oarsmen on the left side reversed direction, pushing the oars, rather than pulling and the ferry spun around to bring the stern to the dock.  The pilot deftly tossed a loop of rope over a post on the dock, as the rearmost oarsmen stowed their oars and joined him in pulling the boat tight to the dock.  He tied off the up-current side of the stern, saying, “Good work boys.”

“Thanks Dad,” one of the hulking oarsmen replied.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a show.  We’re ahead of schedule, so we might as well take break boys,” The ferryman said to his men.

After off loading the ferry, the oarsmen followed the passengers off the boat.  A few passengers were waiting on the return trip and the ferryman announced, “We’re taking a short break, ladies and gentlemen and we will board in about half a bell.”  Some of the potential passengers grumbled among themselves, but none spoke up to complain.

Karl, Bruno, Aleron and Hadaras hitched their horses and found a clear area near the docks.  The ferry crew dragged benches over so they could watch, while they took their mid-morning break.  The new passengers and some dockworkers noticed the activity and wandered over as well.  Hadaras spoke up, “Now, if the boy is to do this, there will be some rules.  Until now, he has only sparred with practice swords, never live steel.  Aleron, you will wear your helm.  Bruno, it’s your choice to wear yours or not.”

“Aye,” Bruno agreed, while Aleron nodded in affirmation and went to retrieve his helm.  Bruno simply pulled his mail coif over his head and fastened the gorget across his throat.  Aleron did the same and placed his helm on his head.

“You will strike with the flats only,” Hadaras continued, “with no thrusting and no intentional strikes to the head and neck.  Daggers are to be used for blocking only.  Are we agreed?”