A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind) (11 page)

I said, as I gestured towards the city glowing faintly off in the distance, “To fight for something that’s worth fighting for, even dying for. The land of my ancestry is a place where men still worship the Great Creator who made this world and all the others. The Creator God is real! I know this from my own personal experience! I’ve never seen the land of my ancestry, but yet I have been told of it. The people there still believe in the Great Creator and that is one of the reasons that our oppressors the Zoarinians are so committed to destroying them. Protecting such a people, protect
ing the right to worship in freedom the God that I serve and put my trust in, is worth fighting for, even dying for. It may not be for you, but it is for me. Instead of wealth won by the swing of my sword I choose a life, where my actions bring life to others and wealth is measured by how many good friends I have and the faithfulness of a good woman and the love of children for me that I hope to have one day. If you choose to continue following me it will not be because of me or any purpose of man, but it will be because we fight for a
higher cause than any of our own. We will live and die based on what the Creator wills for us. There will be no more me or you, there will only be what the Creator wills. If you wish to continue with me this is the way it will be. None of us here are good men by our past actions, but all of us here can be better men then we have been in the past, with the hope of an eternal destination other than hell, which is what each of us deserves. The decision of what you do now is yours, but if you follow me you know where I stand.” I said finishing, as I laid it out there for them.

Renaldo stepped forward and said, “This Creator God you speak of, if you say He is real then I believe you, and I want to serve Him too, even if it costs me my life.”

As one man the rest of them stepped forward and echoed Renaldo’s sentiment with statements of fealty to the God I served, who they hadn’t even experienced relationship with yet. What had I ever done to deserve the amount of faith they placed in me? Olaf was the last to speak, “Master I trust you and if you trust this God you speak of then how can I not trust Him too.”

“You all stand affirmed in this oath to serve the Creator?” I asked looking around.

“We do!” Thundered Olaf over the rest of them com
bined.

“Then I would like to say a prayer over us and our new quest.”

I sank to my knees to pray. The humbleness of the action seemed fitting in this moment in time, as I was humbled beyond measure that such men would trust their souls to be guided by me of all people. I heard the sounds of the others falling to their knees. I couldn’t help but peak at them. The
se weren’t childhood companions coerced into praying by their mothers like I had been, but instead these were rough men of war with the scars to prove it.

They came from different cultures and spoke multiple languages that I didn’t even know and yet they humbled themselves before a God they believed in simply because they trusted me to know the right path to take in both war and life. Tears coursed down my cheeks at the high level of trust they placed in me and I felt humbled beyond belief to be before such men, whose faith seemed greater than my own.

“Creator by faith these men believe in You as do I, by Your mighty actions You have performed on my behalf and the mercy You have freely given me I cannot but adore, serve, and worship You. Guide us through battle and peace and show us the paths to go down and those to avoid and above all teach us
Your
ways so that we can be more like You, a living testament of Your glory. May praise for
You
forever be on our lips, whether in death or in life may we always serve you. Glory in the highest is Your Son’s, who made redemption possible for us, your humble servants, from this day forward. In His name I ask these things and say Amen.”

The words of the prayer had seemed to pour out of my soul coming easy to my lips, like a stone wall crumbling be
fore the force of a mighty stream of water. And like a stream, which pours out water continually a mighty wave of invisible fire fell from heaven and enveloped us! And yet we were not burnt, but the deep wells of our spirits poured forth utterances in languages unknown to us and yet known to the Creator, who listened to our utterances and spoke life back into us.

He gave us far more than we could ever hope to have given Him in return. I don’t know how long we sobbed and spoke in an unknown tongue praises to the Creator of all life, but we eventually arose of one accord as new men, with God given purposes to fulfill. The source of our strength was se
cure in our hearts. We looked at each other, with nothing left to be said as all of us were forever changed by what had happened this night.

“Rolf, get the horses. We will need to leave soon before the night advances much farther, if we hope to rescue the boy. The rest of you,” I said turning to look at them, “I want to go apprehend the wagons bound for the farms, where the children of the high priestess’s I told you about are being held. If the priests get in your way kill them, but above all rescue the children. Take them to the Valley Lands and tell them that it was Roric Ta’lont that sent you. They are a people that believe even as we now believe and they will not turn you away. Have you any questions?”

“We will do all as you have said brother!” Replied Seth, as the rest shook their heads in agreement.

And with that I wished them well and walked towards the horses that Rolf had saddled.

Chapter Five

Cliffside View

Quietly I walked down the dimly lit dungeon corridor. Everything had proceeded better than I could ever have even hoped for. After we had slipped into the city on the back end of a late night caravan we had made our way to the citadel without being stopped. Using uniforms supplied by Rolf, who had adeptly procured them from two permanently resting soldiers outside the citadel, we had made our way into the inner workings of the citadel with comparative ease. Rolf was back up at the other end of the hall waiting in con
cealment in case, as he put it, ‘Any more throats needed slit’.

He was really a peculiarly gifted individual in the art of killing and more than once I was grateful that I had never been put in the arena in a death match with him. Unwel
come memories rose up to overwhelm me, as I remembered the friends that I had been pitted against in death matches. The way the life had drained out of their eyes, as they lay on the arena floor dying was an almost intolerable thing to bear in remembrance.

Stumbling on a loose stone I almost fell, but it helped me to regain my composure and pull me free from a past I wished had never happened. I had banked all my hopes on
Larc being in one of the private cells, rather than the main dungeon holding area.

All the cells I had passed were empty except for the one I now stood outside of. Leaning close to the damp wood of the cell door I whispered, “Larc?”

I heard rustling from within the cell, as somebody got up and moved towards the cell door.

“Roric is that you? Get me out of here!”

“Hang on I’ll get you out of there, but be quiet.”

Drawing back slightly I studied the door. It was old and showed signs of rot in places. The door consisted of vertical planks of wood for the main body of the door with two crosspieces at the top and bottom of the door. The cross
piece at the bottom was soft from rot caused by the continual dampness of the dungeon floor.

I used my sword to pry off chunks of the bottom cross
piece, until it was broken in half in one spot. Then I pushed on the bottom of the vertical board directly where I had chewed the crosspiece board away with my sword. It bent inward, as I put pressure on it. Larc grabbed the board from the inside and pulled as I pushed. The board moved inward suddenly and was accompanied by a loud squeak of protest, from the rusty nails pulling loose in the top crosspiece. I quickly looked around to see if the noise had alerted any of the guards. I paused for a moment and hearing nothing I turned back to the door. Pushing on it once more left a gap big enough at the bottom of the door for Larc’s skinny form to squeeze through.

Larc’s arms locked around my middle in a tight grip as he mumbled something incoherently against my chest. A warm sense of being needed coursed through me as I patted his back awkwardly not sure what to do with the unfamiliarness of the emotional embrace.

“Larc, let’s go we need to get you out of here before day
light. Stick close behind me.”

Reluctantly, Larc broke contact and did as I said, and fol
lowed me back up the dimly lit corridor. Larc jumped like a startled rabbit, when Rolf stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall.

“I got this for the boy.”

Rolf said holding up a dark traveling cloak.

“Where did you get that?” I asked.

“The guards in the guard room had no more use for it.” He replied simply.

“I see. Let’s get out of here before you alter the popula
tion of the citadel too much.” I said, with a smile on my face, as I headed into the darkness of the night eager to leave the confines of the dungeon.

I saw Larc take the cloak from Rolf and put it on all the while keeping a wary eye on Rolf, as if he was a snake poised to strike. It didn’t help that Rolf smiled back eerily at Larc’s wariness of him egging the boy on.

There probably wasn’t a living guard left anywhere in the confines of the dungeon. Larc stayed close behind me, as Rolf ghosted up ahead of us. I looked out the open dungeon doors and there, as bold as daylight was Rolf strolling over
to three horses, which were saddled and tied to a hitching post. They hadn’t been there before! I guess the plan had changed again.

Gritting my teeth, I walked as nonchalantly as I could towards the horses followed by Larc. I hated improvising a perfectly good plan, when it wasn’t needed. I had just lifted Larc up into the saddle of one of the horses, when a cry of pain rent the still night air. Wheeling around to face the citadel I looked up to where the cry had come from expecting to see guards swarming out of their stations, but no guards were visible. I looked at Rolf, who was already in the saddle; he too was puzzled over the cry that no one had re
sponded to.

“It was the cry of a woman. In very much pain I think. It came from up there.” Rolf said pointing at a window three tiers up the citadel.

Turning back to Rolf and Larc, I addressed Rolf, “Take the boy and rendezvous with the others. Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up with you.”

Rolf nodded and started for the small postern gate we had come through earlier tugging on the reins of Larc’s horse in one hand as he urged it to follow along after him. Larc made as if to protest leaving without me, but I motioned him to silence.

“Go with Rolf. He’ll keep you safe.” And with that, they were gone.

Making my way up the various levels of the citadel I was careful to not expose myself to any sentries. I closed in on the window the scream had come from.

Reaching the window at long last I cautiously peered up over the sill and into the room. I sucked in my breath at what I saw. The room was brightly lit in the very center of the room where a stone table stood, but the rest of the room was in deep shadow. A woman I could barely recognize as Treorna was tied stretched out on top of the table.

She was covered in blood and had clearly been tortured for what must have been hours. Having seen many people die painful deaths I could tell that she was near death herself. A dark robed figure stepped out of the shadows surrounding the table. I was disturbed that I hadn’t noticed the dark fig
ure until now.

I could hear Treorna gasping for breath as the figure came and leaned slightly over her. From the sound of her breathing I could tell that they had broken some of her ribs. My fingers tensed, as I grasped either side of the window. My intellect was struggling to hold my heart back from ac
complishing its desire to wring the life out of anyone that could perform an act of such brutality and heartlessness, as the one I was witnessing.

Gaining some measure of control I cautiously studied the hooded figure standing next to Treorna. I didn’t like the menacing aura that seemed to be emanating from him. His presence in the room added a palpable tension to the air that
started to make me feel dizzy, as if I was losing control of the moment.

I had felt the feeling once before in the arena many years before. There had been an arena champion from the city of Rauel that had once been the most feared fighter in the entire arena world, by slave and guard alike. He had fought with unimaginable vigor and was utterly ruthless in his approach to killing. It seemed like he thrived both on the pain he caused to his adversaries in the ring and on the adulation he received from the blood thirsty crowds. He would toy with other fighters, as if they were mice and he was the cat offer
ing them no escape other than playful torment. The crowds had adored him.

Once, I had been close to him in an adjacent holding cell, before the onset of a series of arena games. He was sitting calmly, as one who was at peace with the world on his bunk biding his time until his match started, when he noticed me examining him. He had turned my way and stared me di
rectly in the eye. My eyes had locked with his and I had looked deeply into them searching for answers. At first there had been a flat glassy nothingness, which was disturbing in and of itself, but then his eyes had started to gleam as if from some unholy fire from within. I had felt like I was being seared by fire from the inside out. I’d had to break my stare and look away.