Chapter 47

Chapter LI

            The men Valun had left behind at the capital had not been idle. The three avengers met daily before Valnor, determining what they would have to do to reach the enemy and what they would do then.

            On the last day, they had all convened at the hall for the last time before riding off. Richard stood over a map which he had requisitioned from the archives. “His capital lies far off our roads. It will take us two weeks or more to reach him where he is.”

            Railon stood, ready to speak. “What if we do not find him there?”

            “Then we will get out of that place as soon as we are able. We are not risking everything to rid the land of Naibern wall sentries.”

            John raised a hand to point at the island positioned in the middle of the great lake. “We should meet there. If we must, we may enlist the help of the prince Miran.”

            “He is a cripple.” Railon objected. “How could he help us in this?”

            John laughed at Railon’s indignation. “I daresay he would like a chance to prove you mistaken on that score. He lives alone. Surely he must be able to work.”

            They all settled down again as servants brought them hot food. Valnor, seated across the hall in the regent’s chair, dined alone.

            Over the venison, Richard pronounced “We ought to have ridden long before this, ye lords. How shall we go about it? Shall we degrade ourselves or not?”

            The other two nodded in acceptance of the plan. “It is settled, because we will have to fight to the death anyway. But we are some of the great blades of the lands.”

            “It is settled.” Richard agreed. “And when we are dead, we shall walk to the coast, where the Carribeasans will be looking for us. So you see we can not fail to escape.”

            This statement made all three men laugh quietly into their beer. When they were able to speak again, Richard added “Mark my words, I did send for a boat from the city to rescue us when our mission is done.”

            Railon let his tankard fall without minding it. “I mark your words. Shall we ride? Time grows short.”

            Rising to acknowledge Valnor, Richard then hailed another servant. “The lords’ steeds, and mine, quickly! We have business in the south!” Still standing, Richard concluded “We may yet rest awhile. They will inform us when our mounts are at the door.”

            Only a quarter of an hour had passed since this statement that it was announced that the horses were furnished and prepared for the journey. The lords then departed the hall and rejoined their faithful steeds. Richard rode a great red which he had brought from Ronaieria. Railon rode a smaller gray he had found in the wilds to the east, and John was riding a feisty brown he had claimed from his brother’s stables.

            They trotted out toward the remainder of the south wall, where three men stood watch to warn of another attack. Richard hailed them as he went by “Tell the king we have gone to avenge our families. We will hasten back to feast at his side again! Long live the king! Valunaria!”

            The guards saluted and repeated the battle-cry, adding “The One grant you victory and peace, lords! We watch for your return!”

            Richard, John, and Railon then found the road which led toward the south border and settled into a smooth trot that would not be broken for hours. They spoke little, for everything had been said on the previous ride from Ronaiera. They rode long by day and rested by night, for not even Richard knew the road, as his land was many miles to the north and east of it. After a week of nothing more than perfunctory acknowledgement of the others’ presence, they began to relate the legends of their homelands around the campfire, and by day both Richard and Railon would spar often with John, who admitted that he was not possessed of great skill with the sword.

            By the end of the week they were deep in unknown Naibern territory, so that they rode more slowly and were always on the lookout for individuals or pairs that they could capture and pressure into bringing them to the capital safely. They had checked and brought with them old trading maps that marked the location of the Naibern capital as being somewhat nearer Railon’s side of the great lake.

            After some time riding straight through the wild, they came across a road which was obviously heavily used. In the distance behind them it appeared to be an extension of the road they had followed out of Corridane, which they now knew to have been built in their tracks by soldiers Damrod had ordered to his side to “keep order”.

            Another three days passed before they reached the city, but when they did, they knew what they were looking at. They approached the walls cautiously, watching for the sentries they expected to see there out of habit. Throwing their cloaks tightly about them, stood some two hundred yards away from the walls, trying to watch the sentries pass.

            Railon took charge, being the most experienced. “Now, how are we going to do this? We have no bows and no way of scaling those walls.”

            John was studying the gates, trying to decide whether they would be simple to force through or not. “We are not here to follow all the rules. We should move up after dark and break the gate.”

            “And have every man in the city on us in a moment?” scoffed Richard “I say we simply hail the guard and give him the password.”

            His companions turned to him, astonished. “Hail the guard and give him the password? Are you suddenly desperate to die?”

            “Well, I am going to try it. See what happens. Think who we are dealing with; an emperor who clearly thinks the rest of us can not live on our own. Remember Goman and Berunthia.”

            Clapping his helmet firmly on his head and gripping his blade with renewed urgency, Richard moved out into the open, every muscle tensed in preparation to leap out of the way of a missile. When he had walked twenty yards he stopped and shouted “Halloo! Guard yonder!”

            In the distance, a head appeared between two ramparts. “Man down there! Tell the password or I’ll skewer you with this arrow where you stand!”

            “Hail Kalveston! One world, one Naibern!” Richard promptly dove to the side as the others called “He’s gone.”

            Springing to his feet once more, Richard replied “Than we shall have to move swiftly, if we want to reach our goal!” At the same moment, all three knights broke into a run. At the wall, they leaned against it, facing outwards with blades drawn. Then they held their breath until they heard the sound of the doors beginning to open.

            On the instant, they sprang out from the wall and ran straight toward the widening opening. There were six armed men opening the gate, with two standing as lookouts. Richard and Railon charged the lookouts first and knocked them to the ground, slain. Then Railon went to John’s aid while Richard attacked three on his own. Knocking one aside with a shoulder, he caught a blade on his own and released one hand from his hilt to grab the sword wrist of the third, holding the man’s arm in the air while he fought the other. By this time, the third man was up again and was attacking Richard’s free arm. In the cramped quarters, the blows were not strong, so Richard simply released the arm he held and ducked out of the way, point forward into the man in front. While that one died, the others grew tangled with each other. Though they disengaged quickly, Railon arrived then from the other side to finish them off.

            The three invaders reconvened in the center of the space, cleaning their blades with strips from their enemies’ jerkins.

            “We should not have to do that again.”

            “But we shall have to if we are to defeat the emperor. No doubt he has huge numbers at his call.” Railon remarked, pausing to bind a wound he had received in the fight.

            “The one to reach him gains a fine cask of wine and the seat of honor. Do you accept?”

            The three men shook hands and then began jogging off down the nearest street, side by side. The people they met seemed horrified by their appearance, scurrying away as if they hoped they would not be spotted, but the three northmen did not slow their pace to discover the reason. Their whole intent was to reach the castle.

            They could tell that they would soon reach the castle when they began meeting bands of guards with increasing frequency. These patrols were always larger than their own group, so even as the invaders greater skill always won out in the end, the great numbers they faced soon began to draw more northern blood than could be spared. The champions left the corpses behind in the streets, always more lightly dressed than they had been in life.

            They finally rested in a deserted doorway off a side street and refreshed themselves with the provisions which had been issued to their late antagonists. All three had scavenged heavy Naibern shields at some time or another, but only Railon had kept his. Consequently, he was wearing fewer scraps than the others.

            Richard flexed a sore knee that had developed in the course of the brutal street fighting. “How many more of these ghostmen must we push through? They go down so easily, but there are two many of them! We will not live out the day like this!”

            John unwrapped an arm to examine its progress. “That, coming from the man who spent his life carrying a sword, like you did, is much in the way of defeat.”

            From his position astride the doorway, where he was watching the street, Railon said “We are too recognizable now. Every man in the city knows we have each killed twenty of the emperor’s troops. We will not escape. I say we rest right here and push on tomorrow. They know we are headed for the castle. They know we are dangerous. I think they will fall back to defend the gates. When we do not come to meet them, they will doubt.”

            The younger two were not in a condition to argue the point, so they all went off to find spots in the house to sleep across the doorways.

            They rose early the following morning and met before venturing out to reassess their prospects. Not one had lost any sleep to the hard wood floors, as their previous exertion had rendered them incapable of remaining conscious long enough to notice anything.

            Their blades sharpened, they left the shelter, Railon and his heavy shield taking the lead. With a glance, they were able to determine their path by spotting the towers of the castle. In marked contrast to the hard fighting of the previous day, they met no one on the streets.

            “Perhaps their emperor has ordered them not to face us.”

            “Perhaps he has laid some trap. I do not like this silence. They say it is always most quiet before the storm.”

            “A mass of men like those we have left in our wake, a storm?”

            “You must be silent. A loose tongue can get you slain faster than an arrow.”

            John, sufficiently chided, fell silent. They had now passed through three streets and expected to come under attack at any moment. However, nothing happened until they had come up right upon the palace steps. There they were met by at least a score of heavily armed Naiberns.

            The northmen were not at all surprised by the positioning of so many enemies. What astonished them was that, upon the sight of them, every one of the defenders hurried inside. The door closed behind them.

            At that, the self-styled avengers huddled together on the steps which had just been vacated.

            “It is a trap. Most certainly it is a trap. So many together ought to have attacked us.”

            “But we are beholden to the memories to go on. Would you fail your brother? Your father? I myself have a whole family to avenge. I must go in.”

            “I must go with you. Our honor would be stained if we did not go in. If we die, we die in honor. If we live, we are the greatest heroes of the age. Does Gairbairia stand with us?”

            “I never dreamed my days would end in such a fashion, but I will stand with you, for if we fail now, this emperor will besiege us and sack our cities until none our left who can claim to be free of him. Gairbairia stands with you.”

            As the three knights locked blades in solidarity, Richard remarked “To the death be it. You know he will shut the doors behind us. Our people will never find our remains. May they live in peace till the end.”

            Swords drawn, they put their shoulders to the door and shoved. They were met by a solitary man in ceremonial gear. He wore no armor, but held a drawn blade in his right hand. His scar stood out vibrantly as he said “Yes. I know. You’ve come to kill me. Which of you is man enough to try me first, or are you deciding to break all the rules and go as one? You should. You might actually succeed that way. Be quick. I do not wait for lower men like you to make up your own minds. I do that for you.”

            Shocked by the man’s coolness, the companions stood rooted in place, wavering.

            “You have not chosen. I, Kalveston, master of men, victor of a score of battles before you were grown. I who choose my destiny and choose to command the world, declare you dead men.”

            As if on cue, all the doors sprang open, emitting numbers of soldiers greater than that which had retreated inside. There was no time for another word. The wounded northern warriors were hard pressed for their lives the moment the soldiers appeared.

            While the battle went on, Kalveston stood as a spectator for a few minutes, but then, seeing that the “dead men” were not falling under the great odds, disappeared through a side door.

            The three men went on hacking at and skewering at the Naiberns for such a time that it felt like the whole world had been consolidated into a wall of malevolent animated statues. In very little time, moments had stretched into the proverbial hours. On a whim, Richard shouted his battlecry, just to prove that he was alive. The calls of Ronaiera and Gairbairia soon followed, telling Richard that his companions had understood his meaning. In the small room, the warcries reverberated off the walls, pounding in their ears.

            Richard decided to push his way toward John, knowing that the younger man could not match the skill of himself and the desert king, and could have already received a mortal wound. The Corridane pushed his way to the prince’s side by strength alone, and was relieved to find that the Ronair had managed to place his back to the wall, though he was already bleeding.

            “How much longer can you fight?”

            “Are you jesting? Until I die! Until you die! Until Kalveston dies! No more speech until we are drinking his wine!”

            Placing himself alongside John, Richard replied “Agreed!”

            Not long afterwards, the world began to change. John and Richard both, much to their dismay, were using captured Naibern blades, those of their fathers having snapped on the attack of some Naibern plate. Suddenly, a new sound came into the fray; that of arrows in flight. The knights glanced at each other but did not speak. At once, they swept up heavy shields which lay nearby alongside their dead owners, even though they had given up on the cumbersome gear when they had far more strength to spare.

            But to their astonishment, the arrows they heard did not fall anywhere nearby. They came but infrequently and then seemed to land in the backs of the attacking Naiberns. Several more minutes passed and the darts persisted in downing their enemies. Finally, there were so few of the Naiberns left that Richard and John were able to push forward and eliminate all but three of the defenders. When this was done, they sagged to the floor, watching in astonishment as three arrows appeared from nowhere in quick succession to slay their would-be killers.

            With the last of the Naiberns dead, Richard and John were finally able to catch sight once more of Railon the traveler, king of Gairbairia, who lay dying in the field.

            The two survivors dragged themselves to his side when he called their names. Tired as they were, they spoke loudly to him.

            “It is over. We have won.”

            “If you must go, rest in peace, brother lord. You have done a great deed here. We can not count how many we have sent before you.”

            “Than I have done it. I have avenged my brother, my people. What of the emperor?”

            “We did not see him.”

            “I must go. I must go to the island, see my brother-son, and call him king. It is right.”

            At these words, a cloaked figure carrying a bow and an empty quiver, who appeared to be hunched forward and wore boots of soft skin, hobbled forward. The hood was thrown back to reveal a young man already scarred with years of endurance.

            “Uncle! Do not pass on yet! I am here! I have done what I could but it seems I came too late. For that I grieve. Speak, uncle!”

            Railon was too weak by now to care how his nephew the prince came to be there at his side. He simply lifted his hand and said with his last breath “Rise Miran the long-suffering.” His arm fell and he died. Miran closed the eyes and then rose to go.

            “I am sorry I can not help you further, but I am defenceless and must return to hiding. May the One keep you.”

            Almost as soon as Miran had disappeared, Kalveston returned through his own door. He still was not wearing armor.

            “Young fools. So you managed to kill them all? But you lost one. The “Traveler”, I see. He gave me months of trouble in the East. If he wasn’t so determined to kill me I would have gotten him to join me. He has gotten his pay.” While he spoke, Richard had risen again, calling on stores of strength he had not known existed. “Are you ready to die too?” Kalveston scoffed. “Well then, on guard.”

            John sat and watched as a duel between two masters began.

            After a two minutes, Kalveston began talking again. “I saw your father die.”

            “He probably spat in your face.”

            “Come now, do you think I would parade myself before a dead man? There is no glory in a death, except my own.”

“I knew it was you who ordered my house burnt.”

            “Your father did not have the sense of a mule. He could not see that all resistance is futile. Kalveston rules all. Kalveston outlasts all. All returns to him.”

            Richard did not answer this and the duel continued. After some minutes of furious  blows, Richard’s weak leg buckled, causing to fall to one knee. In response, Kalveston dropped his own weapon and grabbed Richard’s wrists, slowly turning the blade until the Corridane was forced to stab himself.

            When Richard was beyond hope, Kalveston released his grip and remarked “Your father died the same way. Everyone who angers Kalveston does.”

            Though he felt his life failing, Richard saw a last chance to finish his task. Snatching up Kalveston’s blade, which the emperor had neglected to kick aside, he dug the point in his enemy and cried “John! Help me!” John immediately leapt up and hurried over, snatching the wrists of the shocked emperor and wrapped them around the hilt. Thus the two knights finished Kalveston, who commanded his own destiny.

            “Die I will, but you shall go with me. I take pride in dying as my father did. Long live invito rex! Long peace to the people of Naibern!” With these words, Richard collapsed and died. John finished the grisly task and then found himself waiting in room of death for Miran to return.

Chapter 46

Chapter XLIX

The attacker, who was dressed in the livery of Naibern, turned on his heel to hurry away. The horrified crowd was too shocked to obstruct him as he shoved past them, and so nearly allowed him to escape. However, the rear ranks, having some idea of what had occurred, held firm and resisted his attempts to force his passage. Whilst he struggled against them like a wild beast, Valun, his sword raised and a fearsome scowl in his voice and tone, cried “Let me pass! I will see this thing that dares to be called a man!”

The crowd, of course, stepped out of his path as quickly as they were able even as he sprinted past, his cape swirling behind and catching on the legs of bystanders. The terrified attacker finally turned at bay, desperate to complete the last part of his mission if he could. But there was no time. In a moment, the sword flashed and the renegade head had fallen to the ground. Glaring out at the whole assembly, the irate king snapped “The Naiberns are to be surrounded. Disarm them and kill any who attempt to resist or escape.”

Sheathing his sword with a slamming crash, Valun stalked back through the ranks and bounded up the steps toward his father, who was lying on the stone floor, the knife sheathed in his chest, supported by two guards who had changed course when they saw what had happened and were now each on one knee, holding the king’s head up until he was lost.

Valun came up to him and dropped to one knee before his father’s face so that the old man could see him better. “He is dead, father. I had to do it.”

“I know. It was necessary. But do not kill any more. They have done no harm. I am passing already, so move aside now so that I may be able to see my people and speak to them again before I go.”

Valun hastily stepped aside, shouted “Your king is dying! Salute and fall!”

In response, the crowd started a chant. “Hail, Valun, king of Corridane! Hail, king of Corridanes! Hail, conditor du pacem, victor in all battles! Pass into the place appointed you among those honorable to the One! Be at peace!” Their last duty to the old man done, the whole host dropped to one knee, to remain thus until their king released them.

By this time, Valnor had arrived and joined Valun and the people in their tribute. Two interminable minutes passed during which not a sound could be heard but low breathing. At the end of this time, the dying man they were all watching spoke for the last time. “Stand. The greatest time is yet to come, and I go now, a servant to the last.” Then, at last, Valun II, conditor du pacem, beloved of his people, died.

Valun, who had been standing in obedience to his orders, did not move for a further mniute to avoid breaking the peace.But following this, he judged that the time was ripe to begin the new era. “My people! So much has been said already, I will not keep you longer. The king shall be buried with honor, but the festival is for a time of peace. There is not yet peace in the land, but I will do what I must to bring it about. Now, go forth and do as you were. Set men to watch for the return of the Longfurrow and send him to me at that time. I am with my people again. Those who do my people no harm are my people also. Be at peace.” Waving the crowd away, he turned away and descended the stairs at a place where a path was open. Valnor and the Valkyries followed him, ashamed that they had failed when called on. There was no sound while Valun was within sight of the people, but when he had disappeared, the royal party heard a great clamor arise from behind. The guards were apprehensive, but Valun reassured them. “The people must release themselves at some time. Those who remain silent are dangerous.”

In silence, the party returned to the castle, and there settled themselves down to rest. Valun ordered that something should be done to deal with his father’s body, and further that a man should be sent to help him prepare himself. Last, he ordered that Robert should be warned of a visit.

When the attendant arrived, Valun, who had been wearing full battle armor since he left the castle, began with his help to remove himself from the shell and exchange it for less cumbersome ceremonial garb. This done, the attendant removed the armor for the purpose of restoring it to its former glorious shine. When he had replaced his armor with more easily wearable ceremonial garb, Valun left his chamber and proceeded down toward that of Robert. As he passed through, he noted that several kitchen attendants had appeared as if from the floor of the building. James approached him then and explained “The guard, my lord. Some of sir Robert’s survivors. They wish to do honor to their captain.”

“Very well, they shall carry on. Is he awake?”

“Yes. He has been told you would come.”

“Very well. You may go.” Leaving James, Valun turned toward the door that opened into Robert’s room. Knocking once on the door, which was standing open, he entered.

“Good day, my captain. Are we well today or not?”

This time Robert did not even attempt to rise. “I’m afraid, my lord, that I am not well. It is pain today for me.”

“Well, sir Trondale, I have grave news that all but you have heard, so be strong for my sake and do not fail me and die. My father has been killed.”

“The old king has been killed? Who could have laid a hand on him?!” cried Robert, surging upward like a great wave.

“Calm yourself. I slew the man myself. He was dressed as a Naibern. The other Naiberns gave no trouble. I know not where he came from.”

“Then assume he is as he seemed. Destroy the rest of them and you will have no trouble.”

“They are my people now! I will not kill my people!”

“Then you would live in a den of snakes! Would you?”

At that moment they were interrupted by James, who came hurrying in more agitated than they had seen him in some time. “My lords! There is a man outside crying to see you! He says his business is most urgent! He is desperate, my lords!”

Valun leapt to his feet as Robert bellowed “Then bring him to us and do not fall to pieces on the doorstep! Are you a Longfurrow or not?!”

Meanwhile, Valun had nearly knocked James to the floor as he dashed to the door and shouted for his servant. “Where is the man David? Call out the veterans! Every man on the lines!”

While all this fruitless noise was being made, another man had had the presence of mind to admit the messenger who was causing all the fuss. This man, who was clearly a Corridane, crossed the hall in a moment and fell at the king’s feet. “My lord, have mercy! Spare your people in their shame!”

“Their shame? What is this? What has happened?”

Raising himself only slightly, the man drew a breath and moaned “Corridanes are hunting the Naiberns! Some have been killed already!”

            Valun raised the distraught man to his feet. “Thank you for bringing word to me now. Had you been later, I would have had no mercy. I can not let my people do this. Go, work in the kitchens until the work is done. I will require most of the men.”

Falling to and rising again from one knee, the man said “Thank you, my lord. They swept me along, but, knowing your words, I turned away as soon as I was able.” He then hurried away toward the kitchen.

Valun stepped out into the hall and cried “Your countrymen are deep in a great crime, men. I require you to come out with me and stop them. You may have to slay your countrymen today, but remember; those who repent before us will not be slain. I will have none of that before me. Come!”

            About fifty of Robert’s guards, who, as it happened, had not yet removed their blades, fell into line behind the king, who also was armed. The gates were opened in succession before them, as they marched out to quell this defiance of the king’s decree.

            Almost as soon as they passed the gates, Valun and the men could hear the cries of the rioting citizens and their victims. Their clamor, however, was deceptively loud, so that the men had to march through several streets before they encountered the perpetrators.

            Finally, the king’s party happened suddenly upon a party of men who had just meted out their own justice to several men dressed in the garb of Naibern. As the guardsmen surrounded them, Valun stepped forward to face the killers. Indicating the corpses, he said “These men did you no harm. Had they wished to, they would have been slain before this. You have slain innocent men, and moreover, you have done this against my strict order. Therefore, you must be punished. I give you leave to speak before your sentence is pronounced. Unhand them.”

            The men, who had been forced to their knees, were allowed to rise then, and one began to speak. “My lord, we did this because we were overcome with grief that these men and their countrymen, have brought upon us. You know of what we speak: you yourself slew the man who killed the king, and we loved the king. Will you not allow us that? We could not contain ourselves, worrying that perhaps more of those men were waiting for a chance to strike. We could not, my lord, we simply could not do as you ordered of us.”

            “I do not ask you to repent of defying me. Do you repent of the slaying of innocent men, defying the last words of the great king whom you say you so loved?”

            His men held twenty prisoners. One by one, they spoke their minds to their judge. Twelve of them saw the great wrong they had done and wept at it, repenting. The rest did not, believing in their supposed right to wreak revenge on those who had lately taken part in such great harm to them.

            Moved by their reactions, Valun prepared to pass the awful sentence on his people. “Defying the orders of your king is a lesser evil by far than slaying innocent men. However, I must let it be known that I will not allow anyone to do such a thing without great pressing reason. Therefore, I say that you who did repent of the slaying, you must go forth from this city and never return through its gates or settle within sight of them. Henceforth, you are forgotten here. You are exiled from my city, not my country. To those of you who did not repent, I may not give you another chance. You will teach the people that they can not sit and debate, and so determine whether there is anything to repent of. Men must repent and forgive once, for all time, and not think to revenge themselves on those who no longer think of harming them. Therefore, in payment to the One and the innocents you slew, you must die, here and now.” At a gesture, the unrepentant men were slain without a second look by some of the guards. “Then Valun concluded. “Some of you shall have to deal with the bodies. Wherever you meet more such as these, ask them why they do this, and then ask them if they repent. Do not reveal the sentence until they have made their choice. Then, carry it out. Those who swear that they have done nothing may go free. As you see, you will know them by their blades.” As he said this, Valun gestured toward the blades which had been taken from the prisoners, all of which were stained. “Do as I have said. I will return to the castle to await your reports.”

            The dispirited king waited for several hours in the great hall before anyone came to him with the news he had ordered. While he sat thus, David finally reappeared at his side. Valun did not care to hear explanations at that time, and David did not offer him any, simply standing by his chair prepared to run for the next thing which was wanted.

            When Valun could stand the peace no longer, he spoke without shifting his gaze from the front door of the hall. “I have slain my people. May I still wear the crown, or am I a monster?”

            “My lord, this is not at all what you should think. I heard your orders from the men. The ones you slew were murderers, who did not care that it was so. You must set barriers before the people if there is to be peace. You must not berate yourself so harshly for deigning to serve justice in such a way. Those who live know that they were punished. Those who did no harm had no harm come to them. It was as it should be. The king can not let defiance go unpunished, but he must have a soft hand in dealing it out. By giving them the chance to repent, you gave them leave to offer their loyalty back to you. They will live in peace, for there is no shame on them beyond the walls of the city, which they will never enter again. In short, my lord, you have done as a king might do. Put this behind you and rule the remainder of your people with the same fair hand.”

            “It is not that I might have done wrong, but that I might lose the people themselves because of it. They lived in secrets and fear for so many years…”

            David stopped a passing servant and requested that food and drink be brought to the table. Stepping forward so that he was now facing the king, he asked “What must I say to make you believe this is true? You have done as you must, and you alone are the only man in the kingdom who does not believe it! If you can not bring yourself to accept this, there is one path open to you; renounce the crown and declare prince Valnor king in your stead.”

            Valun, who had to this point been sullen throughout the meeting, suddenly became animated, loudly protesting “That I can not do! My father named me king and not him!”

            “Then, from your love for the One and your father, believe what I say: You are a good man, you will be a great king, and you must, after you bury him, forget your father, for it is he who is driving you to madness over your treatment of the people he gave you to tend, even though he is now dead! If you can not loose your grasp on the desire to achieve your father’s pinnacle, you will go mad and fail miserably. Each son is a new man, and has no duty to anyone to be greater than his father, even though he be the king. How you see fit is not how your father saw fit; your time is different. It is incumbent upon you to force the people to fulfill your father’s words, but you must do this without forcing them to do anything. Therefore, you fear to punish them. Hear this, the people know you must do this; you explained yourself well enough when it began. They know that it is the right of the king to levy such penalties upon them, even if the king does not. Have faith; your people remain true to your house. When you slew those murderers, did the people cry out, or riot still more? They did not. There is peace in the city now because you acted, not despite it. I would suggest at least that you leave us all for some time, and learn that you are beholden to no shadows anymore, be they your father or hundreds you did not know.”

            Valun pounded his fist on the oaken table. “It is not your place to teach me! Return to your past duties, and I will see to myself!”

            Ever respectful, David stepped away, bowed, and said “As you wish, my lord.” Then he disappeared into the kitchen, where he had before been a minder of the great fire.

            Valun sat in silence for some minutes, thinking over the servant’s words as he chewed the venison which had been served whilst the man was speaking. Watching the sunlight disappear from a high window, he did not notice the man enter the room.

            “Everything he said was true.” remarked Robert, who was entirely alone and standing with the aid of a strong ash staff. Moving over and sitting when the king started at the sight of him, Robert added “If you will not hear him, than hear me, who has followed you and suffered with you through just what seems to be ailing you; the loss of your father, the man you vowed you would strive to be. Your trouble is, you are trying too hard. If you do not release it now, you, of all people, will begin to hate your father because you believe you must do everything as he did, even though you can not. You do not. Your father knew it, your brother knows it, I know it, the people know it. You do not. This, then, is what you must learn before you will come into your own as king: It is for the man himself to make himself great in the eyes of the people; great men do not spring from the minds of others. Learn this, and you will be happy. Leave your brother as your regent, and go forth with my people, be their son for a time, and learn that your father does not guide your destiny because you wear a crown and are called king. Will you do this, for me, and Richard, and all your people?”

            Valun sighed heavily, suddenly feeling that at last he had been told what he needed to do. “I will do it for the people. My father’s festival shall be held when I deem myself ready to return.”

            “Thank you, my lord.”

            Valun then sent a nearby attendant in search of the prince, who was most likely in seclusion to mark the loss of his father. It was precisely at that opportune moment that a doorwarden announced that a messenger had come from the king’s guards, with sir Richard in tow.

            Sir Richard opened the door for himself a moment later, already voicing his astonishment at the news. Even as he paid homage to the presence of the king, he was demanding an explanation from the man.

            “What is this, my lord? You have put your own people to death? Have you gone mad? On our return here, we passed many men who said they had been exiled from the city. Do you care?”

            His mind settled, Valun was able to drop into the stern tone he needed at the time. “I will take no more of that from you, though I know you are a loyal servant to me. I will, however, give you an answer. Did you not ask any men why they said these things?”

            “No, my lord. It seems that I have failed. May I be seated?”

            “Where you wish. I condemned some to death and exiled others because they murdered, though I particularly said that the prisoners were to be accepted. Did no one tell you that one dressed as a Naibern prisoner killed my father in front of all the people?”

            Richard was visibly taken aback. “I did not hear. I grieve at it, my lord, but I might also admire the man’s determination and boldness.”

            “I give you that. Now, because this happened, my people revenged themselves on innocent men who had been disarmed. I could not allow this to be so without punishment. Those who repented were exiled, and those who did not were slain. Those who did nothing were let free.”

            “I believe you did right, my lord. They will know you as a stern but merciful king.”

            At that time, Railon and John, who had been riding together some way behind Richard, entered the room. Both were dressed in battle armor and carrying their helmets under their arms. “I believe your man told you we would be coming?” inquired Railon, handing his helmet off to a man who had come forward to take it. Moving to sit at the long table close by Richard, he added “We have great business to speak of with you.”

            John followed the desert lord, saying nothing as he placed himself some way apart from the others.

            Turning his gaze on Railon, Valun said “Your companion I know, and I would have words with him. You, however, I know not, and you have not said who you are, nor why you dare to sit in my presence without acknowledgement?”

            “I am Railon, tenth king of Gairbairia. My house claims descent from Tyrone of Gaimairon. As a king, I claim the right to rest myself before others.”

            “And you, John, am I not your king?”

            John rose to his feet and replied in a clear voice “I am John of Ronaieria, brother of Elmbran, our king. We claim descent from Dalton of Taronga. I have never been your subject. In fact, I was under threat of death to capture or to kill you. But I renounce that order, for you befriended me, knowing not who I was. Let them kill me; they will find it hard.” His speech concluded, he resumed his seat.

            Noting Valun’s surprise, Railon and Richard spoke in unison. “It is all so. We have all three sworn to hunt the men responsible until they are dead. We also know who we must find: Kalveston, calling himself emperor of Naibern. Will you join us?”

            “Gladly would I do so, but I think that I must not. I have other matters to attend to. Also, I think that Richard would be an able representative for me in such a matter. Attend me, brother.”

            Valnor, who had just arrived, moved close by the king at his command. “What do you require that you call me away from my grief?”

            “I require you to take my seat. I wish to go forth for a time. I am not at peace, as I should be if I am to be a true king. You shall act for me, as if you were king, until I return. Do you swear to return my power to me when I do that?”

            “Yes. That I promise, on the faith our father had in us.”

            “Then I go. I will know if you keep your word, for I do not go so far. I will know myself better when I return.” With that, Valun rose from his seat and moved toward the door. At a signal, Robert rose and retrieved a chair which had been in his room. This he passed to an attendant, who set it down at the foot of the steps to the king’s seat.

            “Take your seat, brother. This will show the people that you do not claim the crown from me yet. Good day.” Valun then offered his brother a warrior’s salute, which was returned. Formalities complete, Valun opened the door for himself, calling to an attendant “I shall require my horse. Bring it to the city walls, the rear. I stay with the Trondale.”

Chapter 44

Chapter XLVI

The decision pronounced and determined, the party made ready to leave the hall. As he rose, an action which released all the others to do so in turn, Elmbran reminded the group “I was not prepared to take such action. I require time to call on my people. I do, however, have a matter in my keeping which king Railon and lord Richard may like to see.” Thereupon, Elmbran left the hall, as John followed quietly behind.

Left alone in the company of the Princess, who did not offer to speak, but only sat silently watching the men, Richard inquired of the desert lord “What would he have us see?”

“Prisoners. I have seen them already. Evidently the prince John foiled their attempt on his brother’s life, which was a reaction to the failure of their father to hand over the king Valun. So I was told by my brother-daughter herself.”

No sooner had Railon finished, then the doors opened again and two prisoners who resembled the guards Richard had previously seen accompanying the Princess. They were evidently worse for the wear; one was missing his left hand and the other had obvious marks of a beating on his face. Railon was unperturbed, only said “The guards had to deal harshly with them to convince them to talk. Eventually they did. They speak the guards’ tongue, so we will translate.”

Indicating his assent, Richard began putting questions to the mutilated men which he knew Railon had probably already asked himself.

“Who is your master? Who ordered you to assault the king?”

The men spoke in unison. They were evidently agitated and desperate to say everything that might be asked almost at one time. When Richard had endured a full minute of babbling, Railon relayed the statement.

“They repeat several times that they were paid by the man we have already heard of, this emperor Kalveston of Naibern. They wish you to know also that they will hold nothing back. They await the lord’s questions.”

Surprised by the prisoners’ subservient behavior, Richard wasted no time in continuing his questioning. “Why were you ordered to kill my king? And why do you do this so many years after he departed from here?”

The answer he received this time was simple enough: “Emperor Kalveston ordered that it be done. He wished to spread fear and distrust by employing us, men of Gairbairia, to kill the king of Corridane in the house of Ronaiera. We returned because he wished to remind you small men that his arm is so long.”

Disregarding the broken prisoners, Richard remarked to Railon “Small men we are not, in my land, nor, I daresay, in yours, lord Railon. I bring word from the knight Dunstan of your people. He desires to move those men he has with him to a brighter land. I have offered him ours. What say you?”

After snapping a short order to the prisoners, who slunk away toward the edge of the room, Railon replied “I came to lord Elmbran with the same thought in my mind. I do not see why we should cross to your land, when this one here is readily available.”

Seating himself again, Richard asked “What does the lord Elmbran say?”

“He allows the space and the means to build a town of our own, but we must build it ourselves. His people will not aid us. I deem it fair.”

“Fair it is, but what of yourself? If you settle here, do you renounce your crown?”

“I am still the leader of my people. In light of our plight, we are to be allowed a city-state, where we and our descendants shall live.”

“Descendants? Did not your families flee the invaders?”

“Yes. They have been waiting in this city for us to return. The Gairbairns shall not be vanquished so easily. Moreover, I swore an oath to my dying brother that I would reclaim his land for him. It will not be easy, but I will not rest until it is done.”

“I see that I need say no more, lord. Would you not consider joining me in my quest? I return now to my land. Through his agents, this emperor Kalveston slew your brother, displaced your people, burned your cities, slaughtered my family and burned my house, killed the lord Elmbran’s father, and threatened his life and that of my king, Valun, whose demise he may yet achieve if no one is there who knows of the danger. Is that not enough to convince you that all should join in the quest to visit justice upon him?”

“I can not yet leave my people.”

“Your knight Dunstan is leader of them by your word. Let him continue in that and come with me. Send word to the Prince John that we ask him to join us.”

“Your argument is clear. I will come, as, I expect, will the Prince John. He is eager to prove himself before you.”

“Very well. We should ride with all speed. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow the three lands will ride together again.”

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.