Epilogue, Price of a Throne

Epilogue

            The inhabitants of the palace rose late the next morning. Some were refreshed, some were still tired, and others felt ready to feast still more. But, in the end, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, horses were saddled, blades were shined, and farewells were exchanged.

            It was decided between those who were to depart that they should travel south and stop for a time at Falnath Melanar, there leaving Miran and his mother. While Valun mounted his trusty steed who had brought him through the years, he still marveled at the mounts which the Princess and her ever-present band of silent guards had procured for themselves. He had last seen the humped beasts years ago in the Gairbairn capital, at the same great fair which has been mentioned. Miran, having been in seclusion for so long, was not familiar with them and remained in the saddle of his horse.

            The two kings rode at the head of the party, while the others formed a line behind them. The party left the city to an enthusiastic send-off, their ears ringing with the cries of “Health and happiness to you all!” These cheers were acknowledged as cheerfully as they were given out. The party of nobles then turned toward the southern road and settled into a smooth gait which would take them for several miles.

            Near the close of day they reached Falnath Melanar, which was now more heavily protected than they had expected to find it. They identified themselves from several yards away, giving the men time to open the heavy gate they had built in each wall. At a hail, Sir Dunstan himself came out to greet them, bowing low before his own monarchs and giving Valun a soldier’s salute.

            “You have come at a good time, my lord. We have recently begun building your hall, as you said it should be done. We shall have finished before the week is past.”

            “Thank you, good knight. I do not think I could feast again before that anyway. King Elmbran gave us far too much to put down our throats.”

            “And the ladies? Do you wish that they have a house also? The men are tired, but they will do it.”

            To ease the conversation, the nobles began dismounting. Miran put his man’s worries to rest. “No, that will not be necessary. Indicating the litter, he said “My mother will live in my house. My sister has other intentions, though, which she will reveal to you.” With a snap of his fingers, Miran brought forward the guards, who took the mounts and led them away without comment, as was their wont.

            The next day, the people assembled in the central plaza to hear what the nobles had to say to them. It did not take long. Miran went first.

            “My people! Brave swords and hearty workers, who would march all day for me and still fight the battle when it came, because you could, hear me! A new dawn has risen over the lands. The worry of the enemy, who oppressed all, even his own people, has been destroyed by brave men who had much left to gain and even more to avenge. Foremost among them we name Railon the Traveler, and Torlan the Magnificent, kings of the desert land, and of the hardiest people anywhere. The others were less well-known to most, but are equally missed by their houses. Those men we shall honor by keeping their houses in food and gear until such sons as they had are grown to their place. I will not leave you again. In time, we shall return to the banks of the Ishbana and there honor our fathers by toiling as they did. We are men of the desert. It is in us, and we can not escape it. So we will return. And now, listen to the words of my sister.”

            Miran stepped back then and allowed the Princess to come forward to speak. Her speech was softer and more quickly heard.

            “You are my people, and so you shall remain. I have met many of you, and those I have seen I shall not forget. But I can not stay among you. In my heart it has been decided that I should go to the Corridanes to be their queen. They also have suffered great loss, and their lord fears that he does not the way to put a roof on a house.” There were smiles and some laughs at this. Valun, surprised by such a strange announcement, simply shook his head, grinning with the Gairbairns. But then the Princess continued and concluded.

            “And so I must go there, but in spirit I will live in his palace and in this town. And sometimes I will find myself riding here when you would not expect it. Farewell. Man your walls, do not let your banks flood over, and watch for the lady.”

            For the second time, Valun passed down a street lined with people as he departed from them. But this time he was too satisfied with himself to notice. The main road was pointed out to them, they took their last farewells of Miran and his people, and set off.

            An uneventful week passed until they reached the bank of the great river, where they had to wait for several hours before the boat which had brought Valun across finally appeared. The crew was surprised by the change in passengers, but a few words set them to rights and the boat started off.

            Several more slow hours passed while the boat crossed the river. They disembarked at the Carribeasa dock, from which place they moved on to the central hall of the city. At this point, the captain of the city’s garrison, having been notified of the king’s approach, came out and gave his sword over to the king, saying “The city is yours.”

            Valun promptly handed the blade back to its owner. “Keep it in my name. On the fourth day from this, give the people a holiday.”

            “Your word is law.”

            Valun, the Princess, and her guards then departed from the city. In the few succeeding days, they passed through several villages, not all of which acknowledged his presence. Out of respect to his friend, Valun did not lead the party across the boundaries of Longfurrow land, even though it was both within his rights and a shorter path.

            It was about noon of the third day that they reached the capital, where Valnor had long since finally put men to work rebuilding the walls, along with the city itself. A sentry, whom Valun recognized as James due to the distinctive helm he wore, signaled acknowledgement from the walltop and then disappeared. When the king reached it, the gate had been opened. He entered through it slowly, relishing the gradually increasing cheers as he passed through his city. Fittingly, the cheers he was hearing now were the most enthusiastic he heard in years. By the time he reached the palace, he felt deafened by the volume of them.

            There upon the steps of the palace, to consummate Valun’s rising to be a true king of the Corridanes, Valnor and the old priest were present. While Valnor handed off the royal power, the priest intoned “By brother, by mother, and by friend named in life, by father named by death, take now upon yourself the power to command all men in the land. See that you do it well.” As Valun placed the crown upon his head once more and stepped back to say a few words to the priest, Valnor took his place to cry the ritual statement once and for all.

            “I, Valnor of the house of Valun, pronounce my lord Valun III, a blood descendant of the house of Valun, worthy to mount these steps and be crowned king of the Corridanes under The One!”

            Before departing, Valun stepped forward one more time to announce to the people “There shall be a holiday tomorrow, for I have found the lady who will be my queen! By her own choice she comes here, and it took her long to decide that much!” The people close enough to see saw that the king was laughing, and so they joined in, which eventually resulted in the whole crowd chuckling. The Princess, who was watching from the side, took it peacefully, for she could see that the jab was a response to her statement to her own people regarding a proper house. She decided that the coming years would be a very happy time in Corridane.

            The next day, Valun and the Princess walked together to the temple, which they entered, and later emerged as king and queen of the Corridanes.

            In the course of time, it passed and the people thrived, feeding off the cheer which the king and queen both displayed. It was a time of plenty in the land, and little strife in the city which Robert and his men did not succeed in rectifying. First James and then Robert sent for and, paid well, the best architects from all the lands to rebuild their halls according to the plans in the memories of themselves and their acquaintances. Both halls were built to the lords’ full satisfaction, and several builders went away from Corridane with heavy purses.

            In addition, masons built a cairn over Richard’s remains, and a statue in the plaza of the capital which recognized those men known now as the Twenty; their names became known only to bards, who were also already singing speculative versions of Richard’s last ride and Robert’s defense. The king and queen, now that all turmoil had passed, memorialized Roland Longfurrow and Eric Trondale at the seacoast, where it was generally believed that they had been unceremoniously interred.

            In the middle of the next year, Valun rode alone with his brother to the northern coast where he had met his father so long ago. As had been arranged at last, the ship came over the horizon, and after a farewell and a few words to the boatmen, Valnor departed with the teachers, and Valun turned back to live out his life among his people.

            About a year after the Princess’s arrival, Valun again declared a holiday. From the steps of the temple, where all the great step were taken, with the queen at his side, he announced that she had borne a son, who had been named Ryal.

            Years passed, and James Earl Longfurrow asked for and was accepted by Anne of Trondale, even though he was three years the younger and still sometimes acted that way. By this time, Robert had himself found an admirable girl to perpetuate the honor of his house.

            And finally, word was received from Gairbairia that the city by the river had been completely rebuilt and that the king wished for his sister’s presence at the celebration. Meanwhile, a new man who understood ruling had risen in Naibern. There was peace in the land.

            Some time after hearing of this, and before his queen returned from her homeland, Valun went alone to the monument he had erected over his father’s body.

            “It has all come to pass, father. The people are content. They came together as you asked of them. There is honor, peace, and justice in all the lands. But still I am alone, and still I wish for you at times.”

            Suddenly, Robert stepped out of the shade which was situated close by the tomb, making Valun jump. “But, my lord, you have done it, and you are destined to be one of the people’s favorites.”

            “You think so?”

            “Duty before peace. As you know, it is…”

            Together they recited “The price of a Throne.” Companionably, with little notice of rank between such old friends, they made their way back to the city, where the spires of the temple shone in the fading light.

Chapter XL

Chapter XL

One week later, Richard was riding through the city of Taronga, looking for the man who had employed him in his exile. After a long search, he found the man outside the largest theater in the city, just returning to the world. Calling his name, Richard stopped him. “Have you heard, sir, of a Sir John of the Rock, who is said to have come here in the company of a Princess?”

“My boy, I know nothing of any John of the Rock, unless that is the name the prince calls himself by.”

“The prince? Who is the prince?”

“Why, John Elmbranson, brother to the king, Elmbran II. It has been made known that he has returned from Corridane to stay at last. Whatever was he doing in Corridane?”

“I can not tell you that. I know only that, whoever he is, he has angered my king, Valun, who does not know that this John is a prince. I come on my lord’s behalf to settle the differences that exist between them.”

“You will find the prince at the palace in Varaskel, I am sure. You need only claim the title of emissary and our king will see you. He is already entertaining the king of Gairbairia, who, it is said, has come to ask leave to move his people here.”

“Thank you for your news. I take my leave of you, sir. Live long and prosper!”

It was not long after Richard had left the city that the storm which had been gathering all that day finally broke. At that time, he was riding across the lake in an open ferry, and so was soon drenched to the bone. Throwing his ever-present cape around his shoulders, he asked the boatman “Have you ever crossed the lake like this?”

“No, but I expect we will cross if your horse does not tip us in.”

Nodding, Richard made his way to the side of his agitated steed, which had been securely tied down before they embarked and was now beginning to rock the boat with his objection to the weather. Retrieving it from his gear, Richard threw a blanket over the animal’s back.

As though the weight on its back had some untapped power for healing, the horse immediately reduced its thrashing and allowed Richard to lower himself down beside it.

His position in the center of the boat afforded Richard scant additional protection from the rain, but the wind which was blowing it was now passing over him without so much as a ruffle in his long hair. Well protected from the rain by his helm and his cape, he laid his head down upon his horse’s sturdy foreleg and allowed his eyes to close.

            Richard was awoken by a hard kick from the horse.. Shocked to alertness, he grimaced from the pain and began the task of untying his horse. Staggering, he led it off the barge and leaned on it while retrieving the boatman’s fare. When the man looked quizzically at the Corridane coins he had been given, Richard said “I am a man of Corridane and an emissary. Thank you for the passage. I must be getting on.”

            Leaving the ferry sitting on the bank, Richard rode all that day until his horse could go no farther. Limping still, he made camp under a tree nearby. As he slept, he dreamt that he was standing in the midst of a great forest while a strong wind passed through, shaking many leaves off the trees. As he turned to leave the glade, suddenly there appeared beside him a brown horse carrying a withered old man. It led him out of the forest. Then the scene changed, to show a crown, Valun’s crown, sitting atop a pedestal. A different, stronger, old man, soon arrived and cast the crown to the floor, laughing as he did so and saying “All, but Kalveston, shall pass. He…endures.” Then the scene changed for a second time, to an island, where stood a man leaning on a crutch, who intoned solemnly “It is not for the strong, but for the weak. Help may come from quarters least expected.”

          At the conclusion of the second speech, Richard awoke to blazing sunlight. Shielding his eyes, he lay sill for but a moment, while he pondered the strange dream. Then, crying “It may come to pass, but may not the house of Longfurrow be remiss in striving to avert it! We ride, my sturdy Longshanks!” Snatching up his helm, which he had laid aside, he climbed aboard his horse once more.

            On this day, he noticed much more activity than he had up to that time. His spirits rose, as he took this as a sign that he was approaching the capital city. The reader may imagine his surprise when, having crossed the rise he had been traversing, he came within site of an army camped in the plain beneath him!

            As the rider made his way down toward the camp he had ordered, Dunstan signaled to the sentries that he was to pass; what harm could one man do to them here? At the same time, he called a man to his side and said “Make sure the traveler has a place to rest. Make space in my tent. I will have speech with one who is clearly interested in doing so with me.”

By this time Richard had crossed the limits of the Gairbairn camp and had nearly reached Dunstan. Dunstan greeted him, raising his right hand toward him as he did so. “Hail, Rider. I guess that you come not from my liege Railon the Traveler, for he travels alone. Do you then come with counsel or with orders from the lord of this land we stand in?”

Dismounting, Richard took Dunstan’s proffered hand, while clutching his throbbing leg with the other. “You will forgive me. My horse kicked me during a storm on the lake, and one does not forget a pain like that one easily.” He thrust out a chuckle as he released the leg and stood at his full height once more; as many others did, he towered over Dunstan, who was a small but powerful man. As Dunstan led the way toward his tent, Richard continued. “I am not, as you guessed, an emissary of any king but my own, and I myself am not a native of this fair land. I come seeking answers on behalf of my king, Valun the third, the unnamed.”

Inside Dunstan’s tent, over the food he had provided, Richard asked his host “Would it be churlish of me to inquire what brings you and your company here? I am curious, for you say that you are not subjects of the king who rules here. Are you then bent on attacking him, for I deem your force too small for that.”

Pausing in the act of lifting his goblet, Dunstan replied. “As you have already as good as told me your mission, I will tell you mine. I am acting under the word of my lord, Railon the traveler, and as such, I intend to move his people to a better place before I hear his word, and seek his pardon after all is done. When he left us he went to this place, to beseech space for our settlement here. Our homeland, an inhospitable desert, has nevertheless been overrun by a hostile army many times the size of ours. Every man who escaped from the sack of our capital, and a more glorious city you will never see, is now within the bounds of our camp.”

Richard, who had eaten his fill, moved to rise from the table. “If you will excuse me, I would like to visit my horse. Before I go, however, I would say that perhaps you should come settle in my homeland.” Bowing to his host, he left the tent.

A short time later, Dunstan joined him. “Are you speaking for your king in this? I recollect that you said that you were.”

With one hand on his steed’s back, Richard replied “I said that I am seeking answers on his behalf. I can not in truth say that I am speaking for him. He did not send me.”

“Then how can you say that we should remove to your homeland without your king’s consent?”

“Our land too has been ravaged by war. Perhaps by the same foe. I believe I am in my lord’s confidence enough that he would consent to this.”

Clasping Richard’s hand in his strong grip, Dunstan turned away, saying “I wish still to know the Traveler’s mind on this, but I can not leave my men.”

Hefting his saddle, which he had found close by his horse’s side, Richard said “Then I will go, and bring back word to you after also discovering my own answers.”

Chapter XXXVII

Chapter XXXIX

Railon removed his blade from the body of his foe, and having nothing better to hand, tore a strip off the man’s tunic with which to clean his blade. Sheathing his sword, he went to Dunstan, who still lay on the floor where he had been struck down.

Knowing that more men were probably on their way to the castle at that moment, Railon did not mince his words. “Are you dying?”

“It is not likely, my lord, but possible.”

“Let us see you rise.” Railon extended his free hand to his knight, who took it in a viselike grip, and, with a protracted groan, raised himself to his feet.

Moving to dust himself off, Dunstan remarked “Well, my lord, am I dying?”

“You certainly are not, to my eyes. The time for jesting is spent now. How are we to complete our task? We have still to determine how we are to remove ourselves, and the late king, out of the castle.”

Dunstan moved over to a corpse and prodded it with his recovered blade. “Would you not say, my lord, that this man and I are of a size?”

Railon saw the plan in a moment. “I would say that.”

Reaching down to remove his greaves, Dunstan replied “Then, if you help me, my lord, we have little time to spare.”

There was little speech between the men in the time it took them to remove Dunstan’s armor and replace it with that of the fallen Naibern captain. When the task was finished, Dunstan looked back at his own gear wistfully. “This Naibern’s stuff is heavier than I had hoped. And now, my lord, the king’s winding sheet would serve us better. And I would count it an honor if Torlan the Magnificent were laid to rest in the armor made for me.”

“I would not have you do such a thing as that!”

“We have taken the first step already, my lord. We must be injured, so we should have bandages. We can not get past their lines in our own stuff unless we have been captured. You have been slain, I wounded. This man captured us and is taking us to the chief for the prize they have surely laid on our heads.”
 

“Can you talk like them?” Railon asked, worried that two wrong words might get them killed.

“That they will not regard. There are so many men in their force, if there are a few Gairbairns in their ranks, it would not surprise me.”

“Traitors! We will deal with them later! Come!” Railon suddenly started off up the stairs.

Dunstan, who was still adjusting to the greater weight of the Naibern’s armor, followed more slowly. As he reached the ground floor, he perceived the sound of men raising the portcullis again; it must have split the log supporting it and reached the ground  once more. Gathering his strength to rush forward, Dunstan called “They are at the gates! We have no time!” When he reached the room, he nearly had to catch a hold of the doorframe to stop himself from passing it. He hurried in.

“What’s this? The greatest warrior in the land running from the foe?”

The reply was given as to a student. “It is not running from an enemy, my lord. It is saving your life.” Dunstan snatched up the winding sheet and tore off a piece, which he proceeded to wind around his forehead.  He placed another bandage on Railon’s left arm and finished with one around Railon’s right knee. Then he stood back.

Railon then moved to the head of the bed upon which lay the body of Torlan. Grasping it under the shoulders, Railon lifted the body off as Dunstan took the legs. In one smooth movement they lifted the body upon their shoulders and started off.

But they were too late. They were confronted on the stairs by several armed Naiberns who had drawn their blades.

Adopting a superior tone, Dunstan said “Why do you stop us? Will you not let a dead man rest in peace? I at least will give him that much. These two gave me a hard battle. They are my captives by right and I will not have any man taking my prize from me!”

“We do not come for your bounty, dog of a desert rat. Only for your foolish king’s  head.” The Naibern pointed with his sword, directly at Railon.

 It was clear that they had seen through the ruse immediately. Evidently, Railon’s challenge at the gate burned these men still. Dunstan quickly lowered his burden to the floor, without taking his eyes off his enemy. “You who are here will not see his head on a spike, if you would.” Drawing his blade, he knocked his foe’s sword aside and killed him. “Keep coming, my lord. I will hold the way.”

Having regained a great part of his strength, it was a small matter for Dunstan to fight his way down the stairs past the ten men who had come to capture them. At the bottom of the stairs, he leaned on his sword and said “What I would like to know, my lord, is how it happens that these men recognized us in a moment, but those others did not?”

Treading carefully under the weight of his predecessor, Railon replied “At that time, we were in darkness. We are in the light of the torches here. The leader of this party must have clashed with me on the wall. And it seems my words travelled swiftly through their camp. Still, he could chosen a better phrase. ‘Dog of a desert rat?’ he added with a laugh.

There was no more to say. What plans they could devise were laid, and they now had little enough time left to put those into practice before they would be discovered as they crossed the line. Upon reaching the underground room, they found that most of the torches had finally burned themselves out; in order that they could complete their task properly, Railon had to send himself to fetch more from the room where they were held.

Having replaced all the torches in the course of a few minutes, they set to work placing Dunstan’s armor on the body of Torlan. Setting a table upright, they laid Torlan upon it. Dunstan provided the support as railon went about placing the knight’s armor on the late king. The gear did not fit perfectly, because Torlan, whose length measured six feet and three inches, was several inches longer and broader than Dunstan was. Nevertheless, the two men secured the armor as well as was possible. Having done so, they fashioned a litter by tying a man’s traveling cloak to the spears two of the Naiberns had been carrying, lifted their burden once more and made for the door Dunstan had found some time ago during the worst of the fighting.

Drawing his blade with his free hand, Dunstan, who was in the front to afford the pair better protection, broke the lock and knocked the door aside. The door opened outward to reveal a short stairway that took them back up to the surface. To their dismay, it was no longer dark outside the castle. The sun had risen whilst they worked, and it was now nearly an hour after sunrise, bright enough that anyone who knew their faces would not fail to spot them as they moved across the lines.

“If I must, I will slay anyone who speaks, my lord. Have I your sanction?”

“Only if nothing less will keep us from capture. The first man you slay will reveal you as a traitor to the colors you wear.”

“I hear and obey, king Railon.” Laying his sword beside the late king’s feet, Dunstan raised his end of the litter and started up the stairs.

On the surface, they found that the enormous force of their foes was busy breaking camp. Astonished at the sudden turn of events, the gairbairn lords took advantage of their good fortune and crossed the camp staring at their feet, hoping no one would notice them amid the confusion of packing up. The sun was getting hot, and beginning to make Dunstan sweat under the Naiberns’ heavier armor. He hoped more than ever that no one would stop them.

Railon and Dunstan continued to watch the sand slide by under their feet. One quick glance forward told Dunstan they were nearly at the rear of the camp and free to make their way to the river to rejoin their men. Without warning, one pair of feet deliberately stepped into their path. Dunstan had just enough time to slip to a stop before the man spoke. He heard Railon grunt in frustration as they both steadied themselves.

“Explain yourself, man. Why is a soldier of the emperor out of line and moving with two prisoners toward the back of the line? Emperor’s soldiers are not gravediggers. let the dog bury his own dead.” He made as if to break the litter and knock Torlan to the ground.

Dunstan, who stood less than six feet and so found himself looking up at this insolent captain as he had many another man, stood his ground. “You will not touch these men! They are my prisoners, and I will claim their head-price, dead or alive, as I will!”

The Naibern captain laughed loudly and called out to men on the sidelines “You hear that? Those are his prisoners, there! It is clear that either of them could have pounded our friend into the ground, and he says he captured them? Were they sleeping on guard, my friend?”

It made Dunstan’ s blood boil to hear this man calling him ‘my friend’ in the condescending tone he was using. In the midst of the Naiberns’ laughter, Dunstan called out “I want to see him plead for his life before I send him after the other one. I captured them by strength of arms! Do you want proof of it?”

“It will be proof enough if you fight the man to the death right here before us.” The Naibern still did not move. A large group had begun to coalesce around them; Dunstan knew it was not long before someone recognized them and they were slain.

Lowering the litter and raising his blade, Dunstan took two steps toward Railon and then abruptly turned back. Slamming the hilt of his sword into the captain’s ribs, Dunstan waited for the man to double up and then swung his powerful left arm into the foe’s jaw. In a flash, his sword was sheathed, the litter was raised, and the Gairbairns were off.

By the time the two men rejoined their men on the banks of the great river which ran hard by the city, they wished only for a long drink. They had been running harder than ever since breaking out of the Naibern ranks, and now both were beginning to feel the effects of being up and about so long before dawn. Barely acknowledging the cries of joy from their men, Railon and Dunstan set down their burden with the least decorum necessary, tore off the helms they had been wearing all that morning, and hurried off to the river to drink. They did not drop the helms, instead dipping them into the water and emptying them as if they were goblets dipped in an open cask.

Railon, who had endured less mental and physical strain over the course of the ordeal, rose first and spoke to the assembled men.

“My people! What I have to say now concerns not you and me alone, but also your sons, and their sons, and all the ages that will follow after us! It has come into my mind that we would better serve ourselves were we to move off this land to make our home in some other country. I know what you would say. This is our land, the land of our fathers. This is the land that long ages ago our forefathers came into, determined to sustain themselves and their sons. And it has! It has served them well, so well that their sons built the largest city anyone has ever seen! I know. I have been to other cities.”         Having said this, Railon paused to asses whether the men had taken that statement as the flattery of the national pride he had meant it to be. Some men were laughing with close comrades, while others were beginning to look sour. Those were the ones who knew the speech for what it was and did not appreciate what was still to come. Finally, one spoke.

“I respect you, my lord, for none can deny that you have done great things, but I for one would prefer to hear exactly what you mean. You want us to desert our land. Is that not your purpose?”

A tomblike hush fell over the ranks. A man of the ranks had dared to speak sharply to the king? The men, steeped in the tradition of unapproachable majesty, expected that the man would be disciplined quite severely, and every one dreaded the thought of being called upon to do the deed. What they most certainly did not expect then occurred.

After a moment, Railon called out “That man who had the courage to tell his king to explain himself clearly, step forward!”

There was a slight commotion as a man pushed his way through to the front from the fourth line, where he had been standing when he chastised the king. He took a step forward, but then began to worry and thought about going back. But there was no escape.

Railon waved the man forward. He was a strong man, but carrying a little more weight than was good for a man of his stature; he was not above the usual height of the people of the land. What could be seen of his blond hair was cropped close to the tips of his disproportionally small ears, while his eyes were blue, his nose was of the type termed Roman, and his jaw was formed in the manner referred to as “square”. When the man we have just described had come close enough to his king, Railon bid him stop and speak.

“What is your name?”

Bowing, the man answered “Harold Raynoldson, my lord. My father was a blacksmith, my mother was a true daughter of the desert, my sisters have left for Trepalenmar, and my brothers have already been killed. One of them charged with the late king.”

Railon clapped him on the shoulder. “Having met you, I wish that I had been able to speak to your brothers also. What possessed you to speak to me as you did?”

Refusing to be ashamed of his presumption, Harold stared straight back at the king as he replied “Even here where there are no bushes to beat about, my lord, I am much happier with a man who talks the straight path, no matter whether he be lower than me or in your own place. So leave off your flattery and tell us what you are really saying. Do I have leave to return now?”

Railon could not contain his laughter at the man’s audacity. “Yes, you certainly do, and you also have leave to tell your comrades that for the courage he has shown in the  face of a noble, who considered himself a straight speaker until this day, Harold Raynoldson, when all is said and done, will be sought out by king Railon himself and  richly rewarded!-- I intend to move Gairbairia to Ronaiera. I passed through that country on my way home. I am sure there is ample space for a few thousand more men to settle there. I am also sure that the king will not be much put out by our removal thence, but to be sure, I shall ride ahead and get his decree myself. I place the burden of authority upon my general, lord Dunstan. He speaks for me.”  Sheathing his sword and raising his own shield again, Railon began walking away downstream past the ranks of the men without further ado.

Some men tried to offer him packs of supplies, but he waved them off. “I am a traveller. Such as I know how to live off the land. May the sand ever blow in your enemies’ path!”

Chapter XXXIII

Chapter XXXV



It did not take Railon and Dunstan long to reach the place where those who had been chosen to carry the ram had congregated. Without speaking, the king and the general placed themselves at the rear of the group and stood on opposite sides of the heavy log. Resting it on their shoulders, as the other men had done, the Gairbairns stood waiting for the order to move, which was not long in coming.

“Set! Ready! March!”

At the word, eight Naiberns, and the two Gairbairns they most wanted to capture, moved forward to knock at the gates of the castle. Railon was nearly overcome by despair as he looked over the remnants of his destroyed city. “How can we rebuild this?” he thought “Would it not be far better to leave this place and make a new beginning in another land? This land is not friendly to its own people, let alone their enemies.”

The city of Gaimaron had been, and still was, so large that by the time the rammers had reached the gate, they were able only to lay the log on the ground before laying themselves down beside it to rest and regain their strength. King Railon and Sir Dunstan must be included in the number of those who felt that they required rest, but not for the same reason that the Naiberns had done so.

Having gained their rest earlier, the Gairbairns did not lay down to sleep as the others had. Instead, they seated themselves back to back on the log, looking out over the ruined city. Removing his helmet, Railon sighed heavily and said “We are close, and yet so far away. If you will believe me, man, not three weeks ago I was experiencing a festival to health and plenty in a place some hundreds of miles away. You can imagine my surprise when on my way home, I rode straight into an enemy force bent on complete destruction of my land. And so I am home, king of a land of despair and death. Is there any hope?”

“But the Naibern camp was in front of the city. How is it that you rode into it?”

“An adventurer does not always like to return home by the straightest path. My time was my own, since I did not harbor any hopes of ascending to the throne for years to come.”

“What did you learn while you were away, my lord?”

“What did I learn? I learned that there is much to enjoy in other places, but that one’s home, wherever it may be, always calls loudest in the end. I also learned that I had entirely forgotten where the capital lay.” Railon said with a laugh, replacing his helm upon his head once more. He stood up. “Come now, there is much still to be done. Rouse those layabouts.”

Dunstan immediately began shaking the sleeping Naiberns awake. “Come now, men. You would not wish to be found here after sunrise, by anyone. Let us complete our task.”

The Naiberns rose slowly, muttering under their breath at having been roused by a man no higher in rank than they were themselves. Still grumbling, they lined up alongside the log simultaneously, as if they were all together in a trance. The moment they had hoisted the log high enough, Railon and Dunstan ducked underneath, grabbed hold of it themselves, and with one voice, cried “Forward, now!”

At the word, the men began to run toward the gates of the castle, their feet pounding against the ground like hammers driving nails. Before half a minute had passed, they had run head on into the gates, which were still stoutly barred; Sir Dunstan had seen to this before the Gairbairns had departed the fortress. The shock of the first collision nearly knocked the men off their feet.

The rammers retreated and charged again. This time, having braced themselves, they did not stumble, but still they did not make a great impression on the wood.

The men retreated and braced themselves for a third charge. Though they ran harder this time than they had in the previous attempts, they still did not see any sign that their efforts were of any use. As they were retreating for the fourth time, Dunstan whispered to Railon “Fool that I am. I’d completely forgotten that I had the portcullis lowered. We could charge all day. It won’t do us any good.”

“Never fear” Railon replied “We shall get through in the end. Ten men is ample strength to lift a gate such as that.”

“Not if they run themselves to exhaustion, as we are doing. Moreover, I had the ropes cut. We can not leave it hanging.”

“So much the worse for these men. They will have to leave two behind.”

“No, my lord,” Dunstan grunted as the ram collided with the gates yet again. Winded, he began to gasp. “We-can not- manage-it- that way. We must find a more reliable source of support.”

“But how can we do that? Remember, we are Naiberns. We do not know yet where anything is to be found.” As Railon said this, a great crack appeared in the gates, wide enough to allow a man to pass through into the narrow space between the gates and the portcullis.

“I had forgotten.” Sir Dunstan sighed heavily. “And now our difficulty has opened up before our eyes.”

Putting the log aside, the eight Naiberns immediately lined up in front of the portcullis, staring through it as if they were inmates in a prison, eagerly watching the outside world go by before their eyes. Railon snorted with impatience at this behavior. “Come now, men! We have no time to lose! If you are so eager to see the castle, why are you not trying to get inside? Ready now! Lift!”

Bending one knee, Railon grasped the lowest bar he could comfortably reach. Realizing what he was attempting, the Naiberns immediately followed his lead. Sir Dunstan stood back from the gate, knowing that Railon would soon move away.

The nine men at the gate exerted all their strength against the great mass of iron which was blocking their path. As the land was covered in darkness, Dunstan could not really see how hard the men were working, but by their labored breathing, he guessed that they were struggling.

Suddenly, he heard a Naibern call out “It is raised! Now how are we to keep it so?”

And then his king’s answer. “Leave that to me… I have it! Two of us must remain here! The rest will bring up the ram! That will support this!”

A second strange voice called back impatiently. “Well, do it then! We’ll be crushed if we wait here a moment longer!”

“As you will, then!” replied Railon, releasing his hold on the metal and backing away. “Dunstan! Bring up the ram!”

It was not long before Dunstan and several of the Naiberns returned to the gate carrying the log, which was as tall as a man and astonishingly wide. “Quickly!” Dunstan called to the others “We have one chance!”

Running forward, they wedged the log underneath the gate so that it was standing straight up, taking the full weight of the metal upon itself, as the two Naiberns holding up the gate had by then ducked out of the way.

Suddenly, one of the Naiberns took charge of the operation. Pointing to one man, he said “You run back to the camp and report our success. We are entering the castle.” As the man he had designated departed from the group, the soldier added to the others “Remember. Leave no one alive.”

Railon and Dunstan immediately ran ahead of the other men so as to speak together in relative privacy. They maintained their dialogue as they moved through the courtyard up to the gate.

“Here is yet another difficulty.” said Dunstan, who was barely able to keep pace with his king, who was sprinting eagerly toward the doors. “How are we to dig a proper hole? Shields will not do for this task.”

“I am aware of that.” Railon replied “but you must believe there are spades hidden somewhere in the courtyard. Else I would not have agreed so readily to leave king Torlan buried in the grounds of his castle.”

“Is there not a rear gate? One which offers a swifter passage to the river?”

“Do you mean to say that you now wish to bring the king out after all? It was you who convinced to me to bury him here.” As he said this, Railon was engaged in lifting off the bar which locked the doors on the inside. The bar soon fell free, and Railon pushed the doors open.

“I did not know then how full of danger and uncertainty this whole venture was. We must bring him to his mound if we can. You wish to do so, far more than I do, as you are his brother.”

“Very well, man,” said Railon, pausing for a moment to watch the Naiberns spread out behind them, each making for a different point to begin their search. Laying his hand on Dunstan’s shoulder, he added “I charge you to find the path to the river, whilst I go to prepare my brother the king for the journey. Remember what that other man said at the gate, and leave none alive. Else we will surely be discovered and slain.” With a last look at Sir Dunstan, Railon turned and ran up the stairs.

Sir Dunstan stood frozen for a moment, watching Railon run up the stairs to the king’s chamber. Then, he remembered what he had been ordered to do, and hurried off to find the rear gate, only now feeling surprise at what he had said earlier.

“The rear gate… the rear gate…I have never been in this castle before! Why would I claim something was there which may not be? But he said…”

“Eh? He said what? Who said what?” demanded a bodiless voice. A moment later, the owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows. It was one of the Naiberns who had entered the castle behind Dunstan and Railon.

“I’ll tell you what I say” the man continued sounding frustrated “I say there’s nobody left in this whole place, and we’d best be after them before they get away.”

Unsheathing his sword almost halfway, Dunstan snarled “And I tell you what I say, and that is you’re to die, now!” Drawing his blade completely out, he slew the man with one thrust before the Naibern realized what was happening. Only stopping for a moment to prop the man up against the wall, Dunstan hurried onward, toward what he knew by now to be the rear wall. .

Guessing that the rear gate would most probably be found in the scullery, Sir Dunstan quickly chose a direction and began to walk carefully, keeping one hand on the wall all the time. There were no torches to light his path, so he was unable to properly see where he was going, and was forced to trust to luck. He had been moving down the passage for several minutes when, suddenly, there was no longer anything under his feet. He barely had time to notice the emptiness before he had missed the step and consequentially began to slide head foremost down the stairway, which was, fortunately, a straight one.

As he was sliding, Dunstan found himself unable to arrange his thoughts. However, when he had finally reached the bottom and found himself skidding across the floor, he thought “Dash it all! That little experience will have all the Naiberns down on my head in moments!” Having waited a few moments, he rose from the floor slowly. Having moved in darkness for so long, he was now beginning to see dim outlines of the objects in the room, well enough that he was able to avoid a collision with any object.

Stepping over to the wall, Dunstan began to move along it carefully, hoping against hope that he would find a door here. When he had finished two walls and was searching the one opposite the door, he finally heard the sounds he had been dreading might come.

There was a cry of “There’s a live one down this way!” followed by the sound of several men moving quickly along the passage that led to the stairway which opened into the room he was in. Sir Dunstan noticed the reflection of light off the walls before he saw the men.

“Torches!” he said to himself. Where did they find those? I’m found! No matter. They shall pay for this!” Drawing his sword and putting his other arm through the straps of his shield, he prepared to make a stand.

Sir Dunstan had prepared himself not a moment too soon. The instant he had raised his shield, the Naiberns reached the bottom of the steps, their torches flooding the room with light. The leader called out to him angrily. “So there you are, you traitor! Will you come quietly, or do we have to kill you?” He paused, taking in Dunstan’s drawn blade, raised shield, and position against the wall. “You want a fight? Very well then, you shall get it, you rat. To your death. I have four men behind me.” The leader concluded, stepping into the room to allow the passage of the others. Drawing their blades, they moved in toward the Gairbairian knight.

“I am not a traitor.” Said Dunstan softly as they continued to move toward him. “I see you are missing a man. Has he been slain? It was I who did that. And now, if you are men, come and fight. Talimariooooooonnnnn!”

When he had left Sir Dunstan at the foot of the stairs in the central hall, Railon had run directly to the king’s chamber, in which he had placed his brother not two days ago. By good fortune, he found a torch which had not yet burnt down. Proceeding to the king’s room, he stopped in the doorway, taking a last long look at the serene, composed expression on the face of the late king. Moving to the side of the bed, he said “I have come. O Great One, spirits of our fathers, witness that I have come to give the last honors to my brother, Torlan the magnificent, who, as you know, fell honorably in battle. I held myself bound to place him in his mound, and I have come to honor my promise.”

Rising, he placed the torch in a bracket which was situated directly above the king’s head, several feet up the wall, where it would cast down light upon the whole of the bed.

First, he carefully removed Torlan’s helmet, which he placed so softly it hardly made a sound. Having done this, he continued to remove the late king’s armor until there was no longer anything to hinder him from removing the hauberk underneath. Rather than disturb the body, he drew a knife which he kept hidden and slit the materiel down to the belt, which he had not removed. Letting the two sides fall, he did the same to the sleeves. Having done this, he was now able to uncover the wounds which had killed the king, which had long since hardened.

Stepping across the room to a small alcove, Railon removed a fresh white hauberk. Carrying this back with him, he quickly cut off the sleeves and laid them aside for the moment. Then, he proceeded to draw the clean hauberk over the body, while endeavoring to move the body as little as possible. Having finished this task, he drew the separated sleeves over each arm in turn, and only then placed both arms across the chest in the traditional position. This done, he returned to the alcove and retrieved the long winding sheet which had been brought to him during his vigil. He had only just finally begun this last, longest, part of his task when he heard Sir Dunstan’s battle-cry echo off the walls.

Momentarily startled, he dropped the shroud and cried “Sir Dunstan is in danger! I shall return!” Running across to the door of the room, he snatched up his sword, clapped his helm upon his head, grabbed his shield, and ran down the stairs.

Sir Dunstan, backed against the wall as he was, was fighting brilliantly. He was, in fact, the greatest swordsman in all the countries. He was forced to bring all his carefully honed skill to bear against his attackers, none of whom were mean fighters themselves. Sir Dunstan had not yet had an opportunity to eliminate any of his attackers. However, with an unending series of lightning-quick moves of both his sword and shield, he was able to keep anyone from harming him.

After several minutes of hard combat, Sir Dunstan suddenly caught sight of a shadow proceeding down the stairway into the room. Even before he saw Railon coming to his aid, he cried “No, my lord! Do not come down here! You, of all men, must escape to lead the others! Trust me, my lord! You will help me far more by leaving me here!”

Railon, who had by now stepped within the range of the torchlight despite Dunstan’s warnings, said “Surely you would be glad of my help? I came instantly when I heard your cry!”

“I had forgotten then, that I was trapping you down here, my lord! Go! Return to your brother and honor him as you wish! These men are not too much for me!” As he spoke, Dunstan had been moving slowly along the wall. At his last words, he felt the wood of the door behind his back rather than the firm coldness of the wall.

Suddenly, the leader of the Naiberns, seeing what he was about, said “Two of you get that other. This one boasts and is fleeing. See? He was searching for the door.”

Railon, who had stood silently on the last step, heard the words of his enemy, and turned away, to run back up the castle to the chamber he had left. He could easily hear the sounds of the two men pounding up the steps behind him. “Just two?” he thought to himself “Ha. I may not be Sir Dunstan, but any king worth the respect the respect he receives can defeat three men. And now, to the chamber.”

Suddenly thrusting himself forward, Dunstan laughed at his enemies. “I boast and flee? You could not defeat me with four companions. Let us see how you do with only two!” Dodging a hasty blow, he spun away, so that his opponents now had their backs to the wall as they turned to face him.

Without speaking, the three Naiberns split up in an attempt to surround the defiant Gairbairian knight, who was now standing in the darkest part of the room. As his enemies closed in upon him, Dunstan charged, disarmed one of the men, and slew him in a moment. Now that his blood was up, Dunstan was reveling in the excitement, and he ran laughing past his enemies, to mount a table in the center of the room and wait there for the Naiberns.

The Naiberns advanced slowly, creeping along the walls. Suddenly, they grabbed the still-flaming torches they had brought from the brackets they had placed them in earlier, hurling them at the knight on the table.

Sir Dunstan reacted instinctively, putting his shield up to deflect the threat. Thus, he saved himself from the pain of the contact. However, he had been momentarily dazed by the bright light, and for several seconds could not see to protect himself. His foes, knowing this, charged at him and knocked him to the floor.

Though he did not lose hold of either his sword or shield, Dunstan, who now lay on his back on the cold stone floor, could no longer defend himself, for the shock of the contact had stunned him, and he was unable to move.

While the combat he had left was proceeding in the manner described, king Railon was locked in combat himself, in the upper chambers. Wasting no time, Railon had returned to Torlan’s chamber as quickly as possible, followed by the two Naiberns set to that task. Close by the king’s room, Railon had turned and set upon his pursuers. But they had forced him back, and now the three men were maneuvering around the room in which lay the body of king Torlan.

Before long, the two invaders, attacking relentlessly, had pinned Railon to the far wall of the room. A moment passed while everyone caught their breath, the Naiberns still menacing Railon with their blades. Suddenly, with a loud cry, Railon attacked. In two swift movements, he slew one man and pushed the other aside, so that the man almost lost his balance. Snatching up his brother’s sword from where he had placed it earlier, Railon turned and hurled it like a spear at the remaining man. Without waiting to see the result of this last action, he turned and ran back down the stairs as fast as he could go, determined this time to aid Sir Dunstan, whether the knight wanted aid or not.

When he reached the passage which led to the last room, Railon realized that he could no longer hear any sounds of battle. Fearing the worst, he redoubled his speed. Knowing that his enemies were likely waiting at the door for his approach, he made his way down the steps carefully, holding himself ready to fight at any time. On the last step, he stopped. Suddenly, with a cry, he brought his sword around in a great sweeping swing, hoping to hit the man who was presumably standing there.

But before his blade had yet met any resistance, Railon heard a cry. “My lord, if it is you, stay your hand, I beg you! If you are an enemy, come in and slay me face to face like a man!”

Quickly pulling his arm back once more, Railon leapt inside and turned to face Sir Dunstan. “My good knight! What has happened to you? Where are those men, your foes?”

“They deprived me of my senses, and placed me here in the hope that you would do just as you did. I am fortunate that I returned to the world not a moment too soon. They have taken my arms, so you will need to hold them off yourself. Turn. they are coming.”

At Dunstan’s last words, Railon turned to see the remaining two Naiberns running toward him, their swords and shields held high.

Railon, taking note of the speed at which his enemies were approaching, watched them come on, waiting for just the right moment, all his muscles tightened like springs to the point that, in the light, it would have seemed that his skin would break from the strain of holding them in.

At the last possible moment, when death was no more than a hand’s width from his face, Railon leapt aside, crying “Look to your hands!”, rolled over, and sprang up three feet away from the others.

Sir Dunstan, having heard Railon’s words, quickly lashed out with both his hands, giving the nearer Naibern a box on the ear while at the same time wrenching his own sword, which the man was wearing in his belt, away from its captor. As the two Naiberns skidded to a halt, narrowly escaping a collision with the wall which might have killed them, and turned again to face him, Dunstan ran to Railon’s side.

There followed a fierce combat which rang throughout the ground level of the castle, and would have brought men running had there been any alive to come. In the midst of the battle, when the opportunity presented itself, any one of the men would snatch a torch from the floor where they had been dropped, and place them in the nearby brackets, and so the room was gradually made visible and combat easier.

It was some time before the balance tipped in favor of either party. Sir Dunstan, who had spent the most effort in fighting of all the combatants, was beginning to tire, and had found that he was matched against one who could nearly rival his skill. At the moment, Sir Dunstan was being backed slowly toward the wall, and knew that he would not last another ten minutes if Railon could not soon come to his aid. Moments later, he heard Railon’s cry of victory and thought “I am saved.”

Over his foe’s shoulder, Dunstan saw Railon come dashing in, sword raised to finish the task. But at the last moment, the Naibern swung his blade back over his shoulder to parry Railon’s blow, locking the blades. Making use of Railon’s resistance, the Naibern then sprang away, sprinting to the body of his last companion. Snatching the man’s sword, he advanced against the Gairbairns, pointing both blades at them menacingly.

The Gairbairns advanced warily, as Dunstan advised Railon “Watch him closely. He is a match for either of us.”

Railon replied softly “Yes, but for both of us?”

Their foe cut in suddenly, mocking them. “Come now, are we playing the game, or are we still arranging the pieces? Are you men, or are you dogs the likes of which must be whipped back to your kennels? Yes, I know it was you” He said, pointing a blade at Railon. “Why didn’t you tell that old fool on the armored horse to stand out of my way? Of course, it is too late now. My men taught him his place.”

Unable to restrain themselves in the face of such open insults, the two Gairbairns charged upon their foe recklessly, shouting with one voice: “Talimarion!”

That fight, from the time of Railon’s return to the scene through to the end, had no equal in all the history of the country, before or after it.

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXXI






Heeding the cry of their prince, the Gairbairns immediately began to fall back, running as hard as they were able to reach the safety of the castle. Thousands of men succeeded in reaching the fort, but thousands more were cut down where they stood, still hopelessly attempting to stem the tide of Naiberns which was now pouring in unchecked. As was related just before we took leave of the battle to discover what the other parties had been doing, the Naiberns had succeeded in setting fire to the barricade which had been placed to temporarily repair a hole in the wall. This, combined with the determined assault issuing from the towers which had been built in the early morning, was enough to cause Prince Railon to order his forces to retreat, before they became overrun by foes. It was not a full-scale rout, but Railon was hard pressed to restrain his men from running full-tilt in their desperate attempt to escape from the foes who were stampeding after them.

As he stood in the center of the road rallying his men, Railon caught sight of Torlan attempting to rally men to the fight. The moment he realized what Torlan was doing, he began to run toward his brother, hoping that he might still be able to reason with him and lead him away from the fight. But he was too late. Even as Railon came running to his aid, Torlan was surrounded by many foes and brought down by heavy blows from their great swords. By the time he had reached the king, two other men had come to his aid. Together, they dispersed the band of Naiberns threatening their fallen lord.

But again, they were too late. By the time they reached his side, the Naiberns had accomplished their aim of the moment, and Torlan the magnificent lay dying in the dirt only yards away from his great main gate. In a moment, Railon held his brother’s head in his hands, and was giving orders to the other men there. “Quickly! Lift him! We must get him away from here! One of you must watch our backs!”

Torlan, who had been suffering in silence until this moment, suddenly spoke. “It’s no use. I am going on, and I know it. Even now, I see the gates of the kingdom of the One who rules us all opening before me. I see our forefathers standing expectantly at the gate. The sands of my life run swiftly now, down to the bottom of the glass. There will be no turn for me. I go to the One!”

Railon was deeply saddened by his brother’s imminent passing, but this, unfortunately, was not the time to let it show. He tried to speak calmly, but the burden of stress he was working under showed itself in his last words to his brother. “I know we can not save you, but we can at least get you away to pass through the gates in a place more comfortable than this! Would it not be better to go on from your own chamber, instead of this dusty street?”

“It would be less honorable, and honor is everything. A man without honor is a man without a future or a past. His past is forgotten, and his future is shunned. I must have honor! Why do you take it from me?! But hold, I forget one thing I must say before I go. Railon, you must tell the Gairbairns I am sorry that I ever lost faith in their loyalty. I am sorry that I did not listen to you when you told me not to go. If I had only heeded your words, I would still be able to fight, and many other good men would still be here as well. Railon, you must tell the men this; my doubt brought my death, but in death, I see that I wronged my people. You are brave, and you will prevail!”

Railon was too overcome by emotion to say anything in response. Instead, he only increased his speed. His reticence upset Torlan, as the prince discovered a moment later. Mustering his failing strength, the dying king shouted “Railon! Tell me you will do as I have asked! I can not pass the gates in peace otherwise! My people must know! They must not lose hope!”

Railon and his helper carried the king into a small side street and laid him down softly on the ground. The prince then turned and knelt down beside his brother, holding his helmet in his hand. “Listen to me. As a brother I tell you that I would shout your words from the top of the castle if I thought that doing so would aid our cause. As your subject, I am afraid I must tell you that we have done all we can to stop the invaders, and it was not enough. And I also tell you that you did well; it is not your fault there was an opening in the wall, nor was it your fault that there were traitors in the city who kept it so. Gairbairia will survive, but it must survive in other lands. I promise I will drive out these enemies before I die. I will seek help in help in the lands I traveled in if I must. Before our line fails, the king of the Gairbairns will sit once more in Gaimaron. Rest in peace.”

“We have failed, but we have failed honorably, fighting to the last. Remember your promise, King Railon!” With that, King Torlan, who had ruled his land for the past one score and ten years, yielded his spirit to the One.

Then Railon raised the now limp weight of his brother once more and continued to move toward the castle as fast as he was able. Throughout the last moments of Torlan’s life, Railon had failed to notice what was going on around him. Now, he felt the heat of the flames which the Naiberns had kindled to burn the city. The flames grew higher and hotter every minute as Railon ran away from them toward the castle. With despair in his heart, he thought “Must I fight to win this land back? Would it not be better to let the foes burn all that they could have gained from it and then discover that there is nothing here they would want? But no, I can not lose heart like this; I made a promise that I would take it back someday, and that I will do, for the sake of the promise and the men who have died trying to defend their home. We will fall back to Trepalenmar and await their assault there.”

That evening, King Railon sat in his chamber watching over the body of his brother, as tradition dictated. In a time of peace, the vigil would have been held at the time and place of death, but Railon had had no time to do it in the middle of the fighting. He was hard pressed to restrain his tears, for besides his brother and king, he was also mourning the loss of his capital, and soon, his country.

All the Gairbairns who remained alive had fallen back to the castle. Railon could still not believe how they had managed it, but five thousand men had squeezed themselves inside the walls of the fortress. The walls were overmanned and the underground chambers were packed to the point that a man who entered had to shove one hundred other men aside to reach the edge.

Two hours after dusk, Railon was still sitting silently beside the bed upon which Torlan lay in state. Suddenly, Sir Dunstan strode into the room, walking quickly. In less time than time than it takes to tell you so, he crossed the floor and knelt beside Railon in the center of the room. Lowering his voice out of respect for the situation, he spoke. “My Lord, the Naiberns have burned the city. Not one building is left standing. Before morning, they will be attacking the walls of the castle itself.”

Holding his head in his hands, Railon leaned forward in his chair, choking back more futile weeping. A moment later, he raised himself once more and replied in a voice full of misery, saying “Why? Why must you bring me this news? Is it not enough that I should lose my brother, my king, and my country, that I should lose my people also? What could I have done to anger the One, that he would take all from me now?”

“If I may be so bold, my Lord,” replied Dunstan, in the same low and soft voice he had used earlier “I would remind my Lord that, though you have lost your brother, and a great king he was, you have not lost your king. For you are your king, King Railon. You may have lost your country, possibly for years to come. But you, being a true and honorable man, will remember your promise to your brother and return someday, with many men behind you, to claim it back from your foes. As swift and dangerous as one of our storms of sand shall you be, when you come again to rule the new glory of your country that shall be. And lastly, you shall not lose your people either, if you act swiftly. All the people of the city who survived are within the castle. They await your orders, to fight or flee. They will follow you wherever you wish to go. This I promise. Rise now! Throw off your grief! You may take it up again at a better time than this. I do not mean to offend my king, but his choice now lies between one dead man, or five thousand who live to follow him. Come now!”

Rising from the chair as if a great weight had been lifted from his back, Railon replied “You are right; the voice of reason in my grief. I follow you now to the men. Lead me.” And so the two men left the room and made their way down to the chambers below.

Several minutes had passed by the time they came to the entrance to the underground chambers. As they entered, the two ranks of men closest to the opening rose to greet them. “Hail King Railon! Hail Sir Dunstan! May they bring us out of this stifling hole!”

Turning to the king, Sir Dunstan said “You must excuse them, my Lord. These chambers were not meant to hold thousands of men.”

Laughing, Railon replied “I ought to know that better than any here. I would, too, if I had not been so restless before. They are excused. To get them out is precisely the reason we came down ourselves.” Lowering his voice, he stepped back toward the stairway that led down to the chamber. When Sir Dunstan had followed him back onto the stairs, he spoke again, more seriously. “Tell me, Dunstan; if you were in my place, surrounded by an army many times the size of ours, what would you do?”

“As, my Lord, you ask me bluntly what I would do, I will tell you bluntly. We can not hope to fight our way out. To open the gates in any case would be an invitation to our foes to make their way in and slaughter us. But if we wait here, we will soon be starved into slavery. We must find a passage out through the back of the caves, and, with all respect to you, my king, we must burn the late king your brother.”

“Your advice for me is to burn my brother and turn my men into moles? The kings of Gairbairia have never been burned! Throughout our history, every king has had a mound raised over him beside the river behind the city! You and your men rode past it as you came here! Do you mean to tell me you did not realize what those hills were?! Torlan’s mound awaits him, and on your life you will make sure that I am laid in mine when my time comes! Swear it to me!”

“I swear, by the One who rules all, it shall be done as you wish, if I do not pass on to him before you, my lord. But you must admit that we will be unable to give him all the honors due to him. We shall be able only to wrap his body and pass it into the tomb, without any of the formalities he deserves. But first, we must find our way out of the castle.”

Placated by Dunstan’s quick submission, Railon reached up and grabbed a torch out its bracket on the wall, saying “If we must, we shall, even if we must make it ourselves, with only our hands.” So saying, he stepped back inside the caves, calling out “Step aside! Make way! I go to the utter end!”

Chapter XIX

Chapter XIX




It was the following day after Railon had held the breach long enough to enable others to stop it up. At the current time, which was late in the morning, he was patrolling along the back wall, where a large portion of the Naiberns had stationed themselves. Railon was worried at their presence there, because he knew, and hoped that they did not, that Trepalenmar lay in that direction. He was also worried because the badly needed reinforcements were late.

Moments later, he noticed a large sandstorm billowing up directly in line with the city. “It must be! The army has come! But they have their supply train with them, and they are unaware of the enemy! We can only hope that the train is a safe distance behind the army, or we will be crushed!” With this statement, Railon fell silent and stood to watch the coming battle, hoping against hope that the army was prepared to fight their way through. Soon, he noticed the enemy force stirring into ranks to prepare for the clash.

Moments later, Railon could make out the first rank of the force from Trepalenmar. The men, all of whom were mounted on camels, were pushing the beasts hard to ride down the enemy, while at the same time they were fitting arrows to strings. They let their volley fly, making every shot count. Seconds before the lines clashed, Railon saw the flash of a hundred swords being drawn simultaneously, and heard the concerted shout of “Talimarion!” Then, the battle was joined.

For a few tense moments, the vanguard of the newly arrived Gairbairns was fighting on its own against nearly two thousand of the Naiberns. Then, the rest of the Gairbairn soldiers arrived and turned the tide of the battle in their own favor.

At that moment, Railon turned and saw a large group of Naiberns who had been with the main force running around the city to reinforce their own side. With a shout that roused everyone on the wall, he called “Cut them down! Cut them down! Your own survival may depend upon it!”

Heeding his order, men all along the wall nearest to the force began firing down upon them, causing many to fall for the last time. Then, turning back to the main battle, Railon and all of his men watched tensely for nearly half an hour. Then the Prince began to shout once more. “They are breaking through! The Gairbairns are victorious! Men must run down to the rear gates to let them into the city! The enemies are routed, and the supplies will come through! Keep a close watch on the force outside the front! The sentries must be resupplied!” As he finished with this last order, Railon began to run down the steps to the ground, in order to meet the survivors of the battle he had just witnessed.

By the time he reached the gates, they were open and the exhausted fighters were streaming through it in loosely ordered ranks. As Railon stood watching them, one of the men stepped out of the line, paused to question another bystander, who pointed at Railon, and made his way toward the Prince. Kneeling, he said “Greetings, my Prince. I am Sir Dunstan, the commanding General of this throng of our countrymen who are now streaming through your gates. I take all responsibility for the delay in our arrival, and I am ready to take the punishment that you deem necessary.”

Railon, who was pleasantly surprised at the General’s unusually humble manner, replied “You are forgiven, and you may rise. After the heroic battle which you have just won for us all, I do not deserve to punish you for being only days late. Be assured that coming any later would likely have killed us all, or if we still survived, you would be punished. But at this time, you deserve a feast, though we may not be able to give you one.”

“I would like to pay my respects to the King now, if it does not bother you overmuch, my Lord.”

“Why should it? In fact, if you had not found me so quickly, I would have already gone to tell him of your victory.”

No further speech being necessary, Prince Railon and Sir Dunstan left the gate to visit the King. They did not do so quietly though, for everywhere they passed, men recognized both of them and gave them loud cheers for their recent exploits. This continued to the point that it seemed as if had been no pause at all in the cheering all the way from within three hundred yards of the gate until they gained the entrance of the Hospital. Once inside, they were met by a healer who told them “The King is awake and has been calling for the Prince for the past hour.”

“Well, I am here to speak with him now. So tell him that, if you please.”

Only moments later, after the King had been alerted to their arrival, Railon and Sir Dunstan entered his room. The King greeted them cheerfully, not at all as if he was not expected to walk on his own again. In fact, as Railon saw him, he would have hardly been surprised if Torlan had risen out of the bed at that moment. “Oh, my brother! It is excellent to see you again! Would it surprise you if I were to tell you that I am nearly healed?”

Railon was taken aback by this announcement, but he did not to show it in his expression. After a moment of internal struggle, he managed to reply “Not in the least.” with a straight face. Then, he made his own announcement. “And now, my good brother, I have the honor to present to you-you are free to rise, man- Sir Dunstan, a noble of our land, who has only this day won a brilliant victory over our enemies, and brought us the supply train we so badly need. Now, if he thinks it necessary to say anything more, I shall leave that to him.”

Sir Dunstan knelt beside Torlan’s bed as he began his explanation. “My Lord, on the day which we were supposed to begin our journey to the capital, an awful sandstorm blew up, one so bad that men could hardly four feet in front of their own faces. At this, I deemed it too dangerous to proceed, and held the force back until the storm had lessened. This took an entire day, and on into the middle of the following day. One hour after the sand had settled, the whole force was prepared to march, and we started immediately, riding our beasts hard to arrive as fast as we were able. Having previously received your message concerning the enemy force, we rode prepared for battle at all times. It happened that there was a large force of enemies watching the rear of your city, so we charged upon them and fought our hardest, and the fates decreed that we would be victorious, so most of us have already arrived inside the city. That is all, my King.”

“It is good.” Torlan replied “You two are dismissed at this time, and I order you to give your men a feast in the castle and tell them that I expect I shall be able to ride tomorrow. These healers really are trying.” As the Prince and the General rose to leave, he added “And do not shrink from pitched battle. Sir Dunstan has proved that he is capable of giving us a victory, considering our somewhat equaled numbers.”

Both of the others replied “We will do so, but we would do it more willingly if you were there yourself.”

“I shall try. Those are my last words. Now go.” Torlan replied. He was beginning to feel the pain once more, and he wanted solitude in order to fight it off so that none, least of all the two men who had just left his presence, might see that he could be weak.

As the two men left the building, Railon turned to Dunstan and remarked “The King is still in some pain. I could see it in his face. His pride will not allow him to admit that he can be defeated, though, so we had better humor him until he recovers properly. Now, about that feast. We can not afford a feast the size of those we had in times of peace, for food is scarce when withstanding a siege.”

“I know that well enough, and we must have the men eat their share in shifts, to leave a sufficient guard on the walls.”

“It is the right thing to do, though, however it is done, for an event like this will raise every man’s morale.”

“Very well. Shall we go to the castle, then?”

“Exactly.”

The men continued on without saying another word. Reaching the castle, they identified themselves and were allowed inside immediately. Inside the walls, they continued walking until they had reached the top, where they stood surveying the city and the opposing army outside. After several minutes, Railon turned to Dunstan and asked “So how many men did you have with you, and can you tell me how many fell?”

“I had ordered six thousand men out to ride for the capital, and…” Sir Dunstan paused as he turned and looked out over the rear of the city. “…I would say, considering our surprising arrival, and that our numbers turned out to exceed those of our foes, that as many as eight hundred good men are lying out there, their lives taken as payment by the fates in return for our victory.”

“If that’s the way you think of war, hope for all our sakes that the price of the following days will be low. There can be no merrymaking before the dead have been honored. Look! Outside the walls! The enemy is milling about, calling orders, we must watch closely or we may fall now at the height of our triumph!”

“Siege weapons assembled, disassembled, and carried with their supply train! I see a ram going up, and several siege towers rising over their ranks! Now, I must go to assemble my men for the charge which we must make, for if we leave the enemy to build those machines, we shall fall tomorrow in any case!” With that, Sir Dunstan turned and ran down through the castle and out into the city.

Prince Railon only remained alone long enough to remark to the otherwise empty area “If there was ever a time that Torlan’s recovery was needed, it is now. His reappearance would cheer the men beyond measure. With or without the King, though, we must bring the battle to the foe before they complete their machines. If those are finished, the city will fall.” Having nothing more to say, Railon turned and followed the General out of the castle.

On his way out, he met two heralds who appeared to have been looking for him themselves. When they tried to stop him and give their message, he silenced them, saying “There is no time. Nothing is more urgent now than assembling the army for battle and charging upon the enemy with all speed. Or would you rather wait inside the walls until they knock down the gates and come charging in themselves? It is easier to battle on an open plain than a crowded city like this one. Call the men to arms. I will go to the King myself.”

In accordance with his own decision, Railon went straight to Torlan. The King received him happily and immediately asked if there was anything that would be of interest to him going on in the city. “You really must settle down, for it seems that every time you come to see me, something disastrous has occurred.”

“Was Sir Dunstan’s victory over the Naiberns and arrival in the city a disaster? They are not all like that, but this one is. The enemy is building siege weapons. If we do not attack them soon, we will fall. I have come to inquire into what you do in this case.”

“What would I do? We are still outnumbered by the enemy, but if we tarry any longer, we will fall to their ram and towers. You stationed archers to watch for this, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Well then. Trust them, and remain behind the walls. In a charge, your whole force could be eliminated and the city would be defenseless.”

“I will abide by your decision, though it is a surprise coming from you, considering the actions that put you in your current state.”

“I have reconsidered since then. Call my horse. I will come out to the men.”

Without pausing to respond, Railon left at speed and brought Torlan’s steed around personally.

Stopping the horse at the door of the building, Railon returned to Torlan’s room. The King was sitting up on the edge of the bed by this time, waiting for Railon to return. Railon came in and, moving to the bed, put Torlan’s left arm around his own neck, and hoisted his brother onto his feet. Railon supported Torlan to the door of the hospital, where Torlan was able to grasp his horse’s mane, and with a little help from Railon, swing himself onto it. “It is good. I am ready to go.” He announced when he had finally settled himself.

“Well then, ride ahead. I ordered the troops assembled in front of the gates.”

Without further speech, the two brothers, the fourth generation of their family to rule their desert country, proceeded, making for the front gates of their city.

Only a few streets away from the hospital, they fell in with a band of late-comers on their way to the mustering at the gates. These men trudged along with their heads down, not noticing their rulers, until Railon spoke to them. “Look up, my men, and be cheered. You will probably survive this particular day after all.”

At this, the men looked up and finally noticed their King riding in their midst. At the sight, they cheered loudly, and two ran ahead, presumably to announce the King’s recovery to the rest of the force. Torlan, who was feeling slightly stiff, only smiled a little and waved at his troops as they ran off.

Several minutes of winding through streets later, the King and the Prince emerged near the front gate. Their appearance cued deafening cheers from the force massed in the area. Raising his hand, Torlan silenced the crowd assembled at the gates. Then he began to speak. “The Prince, my brother Railon, has told me that he ordered you to assemble here in preparation for a final charge to decide our fate. He came to me to be sure that this decision would be in accordance with my wishes. Based upon his previous actions, that plan is not my decision, so most of you will survive for another day. Archers! We must know the position of the enemy’s threat!”

A moment later, a man replied “My lord, their weapons are complete, and they are moving them closer to the city now, though our sand is impeding them!”

“Are they within a good range to fire upon?”

“I believe so.”

“Do not despair! Fire upon them!”

All the Gairbairns held silent for several tense minutes while the archer and several of his fellow sentries prepared a fire for their missiles. Then, they all fired simultaneously at the towers, which had not paused in their approach to the city. The Gairbairns massed in the gateway heard a handful of faint thuds as some of the blunted fire-arrows ricocheted harmlessly off the sides of the sides of the towers.

Several stunned men turned to Railon for an answer. Why did they not catch fire? They are only wood?!”

“I have learned in my travels” Railon said frostily, hardly glancing at the men. That dry skins do not take easily to flame. Hold your fire until it is closer. Then you should see an opening through which to destroy the menace. Remember, if one arrow catches, the whole is gone, for they have no water to spare!” Lowering his voice, Torlan continued speaking to the assembled men “Why are you all waiting here? We must work fast to shore up the gates. Be sure that the portcullis falls before they begin to attack, and their ramming will be fruitless.” At the King’s words, many men ran to follow the orders. Glaring at the others who remained, Torlan added “Why does any man linger here? You are all needed up on the walls to deter their attack. Now, my brother,” he concluded as the men hurried off “We shall take ourselves off to the castle to prepare for battle.” The two men were completely silent as they retraced their path, until they reached the straightest path to the castle, which they took instead of their original path to the hospital.

Once they were inside the castle once more, Railon aided Torlan in dismounting in the courtyard and supported him until they had returned to the King’s room. There, Railon lay Torlan down upon the bed and finally spoke what he had been thinking for the past several minutes. “I give you all due respect, brother, but I wish that you would take my advice concerning involvement in the coming battle.”

“What is the advice that you would have me take?” Torlan asked, groaning as he shifted onto his right side to face Railon.

:”The advice is that you hold yourself back from the battle.”

“You would have that of me? And why? Why must I lie helpless here while my subjects fight? I must return to the field, so that they may see that nothing holds their King away from a battle. They will be heartened by my eagerness, and fight all the harder for it. I demand that you order my armor to be brought, that I may arm myself fittingly.”

“I do not believe that such action would be wise.”

“Again! You warn me against the fight, and do not tell me why I should hold myself away! Tell me! I am speaking no longer as your brother, but as your King! I order you to speak!”

“You are far too weak to wear your armor. Now you have your answer.”

“Is that all? I decide that! Order my armor, and command that four strong men come to my room to carry me down to my steed on a stretcher if they must! I will fight with my subjects!”

Acquiescing to the demand of the king, rather than the obstinacy of the brother, Railon rose without replying and went out to comply with Torlan’s command.

It did not take him long to find what his brother wanted. As soon as he had sent the men up to the King, he returned to the city to join the battle in Torlan’s stead. Long before he reached the walls, he could hear the ram pounding on the gates. “I only hope that the men have dropped the portcullis. We can hold them off then. Have the archers succeeded anywhere? They must, or it will go badly for us.” Soon after this, he had reached the walls, where he called on the archers to hold their fire, as the ram was too close to the gates now to risk it burning. Then, he hurried off to join the men defending the gap in the wall which had not been blocked properly after his defense of it only days ago.

It was here that the battle was hardest, as the Naiberns were attempting to breach the wall with towers and set fire to the barricade under the cover of those same towers. Calling together several archers, Railon exclaimed “On your life, fire on those towers! If you can not do it now, you’ll never see another day!”

Hurriedly, the archers turned and fired several flaming arrows into the platforms of the nearest tower. The results were immediate, as the flames caught the dry wood, causing the whole tower, packed with men, to come crashing down in all directions.

“Quickly, the spears! Get the debris off the wall immediately! We must see to the other towers! There are too many men on this wall! Some of you return to the ground to defend the barricade! We have no time to spare!” As sentries began to run past him, Railon led several men to the point where the nearest tower was poised to breach the battlements.

Soon after, Railon and the men were fighting for their lives as the enemy came pouring in over the ramparts. Then, as he fought, Railon heard a great cry go up from the men he had set to guard the barricade farther along the wall.

“Fire! Fire! They have fired the barricade!”

At this cry, Railon slew his opponent, turned and began shouting “The wall has been breached! Fall back into the city! To the castle! Back to the caaastlle!”