A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind) (5 page)

“Are you the one they call the Zeventhal?”

There was a ready intelligence in his steady gaze, causing me to again wonder why such a man as him would risk being here.

I replied,
“I have been known by that name, but I am called by that name no longer. Call me Roric.”

He smiled and extended his right hand toward me, but I didn’t take it. He held his hand out a moment longer looking uncomfortable as I left it there in space unshaken. He let his hand fall back to his side.

“I have come a long perilous way to find you. I hope it was worth the effort.” He said with a slightly aggravated tone to his voice.

“So you have and your perilous journey will end tonight, as you won’t leave this camp alive unless you convince me to do otherwise.” I said.

His face whitened some at the seriousness of my words and I waited for him to speak, drawing him out with my si
lence.

He began slowly, as if considering his words carefully, “I, as you have surely guessed, am a Valley Lander, a sworn enemy to the people of this land, the Zoarinians. However we are not enemies by choice, but rather the state of war between our two peoples has been one of the Zoarinians making, entirely spurred on by their continued and constant aggression towards us, because of disagreements in the an
cient past. We have been expecting them to mount an all out assault on us for some time now.”

“What has any of this to do with me?” I asked feigning a disinterested tone of voice, as I drew a knife from my belt and tested its edge for sharpness with my thumb looking at him suggestively as I did so.

With a desperate tinge to his tone he asked, “Are you aware of who your father was?”

Now he had gotten my attention, but I kept it from showing on my face, “Why don’t you tell me?” I said in a meas
ured tone.

“He was the son of one of the most influential Valley Lander families ever, heir to a great estate and even a castle. He was poised to take over control from his father, when attempts were made to assassinate his wife, which nearly
succeeded. One morning just after the last incident to take his wife’s life, he disappeared with his wife and newborn son never to be heard from again. His father searched for years until he found where he had been living in the Hills of Ernor under the maiden name of his wife, but it was too late. They found the bodies of your father and his wife and that of a son born later on. It was rumored that the oldest son was taken south and sold as a slave to a fighting school.”

The knowledge that my mother and younger brother were dead too, hit me hard. My sacrifice for them had been in vain. They were all dead! Gone was the vague illusive dream of a reunion, with the remnants of my family one day.

“You didn’t know about them all dying did you? I’m sorry for the loss my words have brought you!” He said soft
ly.

“Continue with your story, how did you find me?” I said gruffly.

“Your grandfather never gave up searching for you. He heard word of a slave fighter in one of the southern cities that matched the description of the men of your family and he sent some agents to investigate. They identified that it was indeed you that they were searching for. Your grandfather tried to rescue you on several occasions, but the at
tempts failed. He was preparing another rescue attempt for you when he received word that you had escaped. He has been looking for you ever since. He found out, with a liberal application of money, the identity of one of your contacts and from him and few other sources of information we were
able to piece together where a probable location to find you might be. I was sent by the ruling high council of the Valley Lands, with the blessing of your grandfather. We want you to come home and assume your rightful place among us. Will you come home?”

I studied him carefully my instinct telling me there was something more to this, “After I do something for your high council first I imagine.” I said rhetorically.

He chuckled softly, “You have the same way of reading the unspoken as your grandfather does. Yes, the high coun
cil does have an item of extreme interest that they would like for you to acquire and bring back with you to the Valley Lands, but it is not a condition for your return. You are free to return anytime you wish Roric. The decision is entirely up to.”

There was a silence that stretched out so long that the Valley Lander started to look apprehensive once again, as if fearing that I hadn’t believed him. “What is it that the coun
cil wants brought back to them?” I asked.

The man gave a relieved sigh and said, “We have essen
tially been cut off from the rest of the world. In particular, we have lost contact with a valuable spy of ours, who lives in the city of Kharta. This is all hostile territory to us.” He gestured around him, “I was surprised that I was able to get this far, without being stopped. The spy has gathered vital intelligence for us for years, but we have been unable to make contact with him for some time now. We believe him to still be alive and we’re hoping that he has intelligence as
to the time and strength of the assault that will be brought against us, as well as any weaknesses the enemy might have. We badly need that intelligence, if we are to protect the Val
ley Lands and keep them free. I would try to contact the spy myself, but I know nothing of the lands further south and it has been a miracle, as I have already said, that I have reached this far and been successful in finding you. All we need for you to do is to go to Kharta, locate our spy, and if possible gain whatever information you can from him and then come home.” He finished, looking uncertainly at me.

I looked around at those gathered around and knew that my decision wasn’t going to be a well liked one by my com
panions. “So how do I find and contact this spy of yours in Kharta?”

My statement jarred them all awake, with a collective chorus of surprised grunts and exclamations. They were all looking at me now, as the firelight flickered onto their faces creating odd shadows. They were undoubtedly a rough looking crew, but I knew there finer points. They had in a way become to me like the family I had lost.

“I know you view me as your leader, but it is a position I have never asked for or pressed onto you. I’ve grown weary in this endless quest for revenge and so have a lot of you, if
you’re honest with yourselves.”

At that statement there were several downcast faces in my audience.

“I need to find out if there is something better out there than just being an embittered escaped slave on a revenge
kick. If I find what I’m looking for I promise that I will find you and share it with all of you. You have all become to me as the brother I once lost, and it is not easy to leave, but I must!”

“Can we not come with you?” Asked Seth, a fighter that was forever getting himself into trouble and that I had saved more times than I could remember from such said troubles.

“No this is something I must do for myself. If I do not return by this time next month I advise you to forsake the hope of ever seeing me again. If you would like some parting advice it would be to disperse and give up this life of revenge as it is doing little good for any of us!”

That had all transpired fourteen days ago and much had happened since then. Awakening from my remembrance of the past I looked over at the boy still asleep by the fire.

The sky had grown dark and soon it would be time to wake the boy and move on. I gazed out over the Hagathic Wastelands, wondering how I was going to get the infor
mation given to me by the spy in Kharta, and the spy’s young son, safely to Kingdom Pass in the Valley Lands. I looked over at the lad asleep, face tight with the stress we both felt even in sleep.

When I had arrived in Kharta it was to discover that the spy had already been found out and was awaiting his execution. Kharta, while not occupied by the Zoarinians was still very much controlled by them and they were only too will
ing to execute a spy on behalf of the Zoarinians.

It had been very early in the morning, when the guard on duty outside the jail access door breathed his last ragged breaths. I had eased his lifeless body down to the pavement, wiping my knife off on his tunic as I did so careful not to make a sound. I continued on into the stygian darkness of the city jail.

“Over here!” I heard someone cry out weakly.

The voice had come from further down the row of cells. As I drew closer to the voice and could make out more of its owner I could see that he wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere with me. In the condition he was in it was unlikely he would live long enough to attend his own execution. I did not like the closed confines of the jail, which seemed to press in on me like a cage. I kneeled down beside the spy’s cell.

“I knew they would send somebody for me. You’re a lit
tle late though.” He said wheezing, as he coughed up what appeared to be blood.

He had been worked over several times judging by the different ages of the bruises and cuts I could see on his face and underneath his torn shirt.

“They tried to get me to tell them where I hid the intelli
gence reports, but I didn’t! I didn’t!”

The impassioned outburst cost him a lot of his remaining energy and he sagged back weakly against the bars of his cell. He reached through the bars with one hand and caught one of my hands and gripped it tightly as desperation tinged
his voice, “You must do one thing for me, and you must swear to do it or I won’t tell you where the reports are!”

His intensity of gaze and an indefinable desperation of spirit that radiated out from his eyes forced me to concede and I nodded my head.

“You’re going to take my little boy with you! My boy is going to know what freedom is, especially the freedom to worship the Creator, without the fear or strictures of this place!” He said emphatically and painfully at the same time.

“Please swear you’ll take my boy with you!”

“I swear it!” I affirmed softly.

He collapsed weakly back against the bars his grip on me loosening as he slumped down.

“Good! The reports are in a false bottom of a planter pot located where Rassian St. meets Gonda Way in the Sonna District of the city. You’ll find the boy at 56 Rassian St. Tell the lady keeping him the code words, ‘The meadowlark flew away’, and she will give you the boy and provisions for the journey. Now go while it’s still dark outside. You will have a better chance of getting out of the city, with my boy before the alarm is raised. May the Creator see you on your way safely! Tell my boy I love him and that I wish I could be there for him, but that I have to stay here. He’ll under
stand someday what this was all about.”

I got up to leave, but his failing voice caught me before I started down the corridor.

“One more thing, leave me a knife if you would be so kind.”

I glanced questioningly at him.

“I ashore you S
ir that I’m not the suicidal type, except for perhaps staying in the game longer than I should have. If I am to die here in this place there is someone that I very much want to take along with me.” He said with a raspy chuckle that abruptly caused him to gasp with pain.

Wordlessly I pulled a small sharp dagger out from my left boot
and handed it to him through the bars.

“Thank you again, Sir! Tell me what name are you called by?”

“I’m Roric.” I replied simply.

“Ahh I knew it! There was something about you that reminded me of my old friend. I’m glad to know that your grandfather found you at long last! I am at peace now, assured as possibly as I can be of my son’s safety, while in your care! Your father was one of the greatest warriors the Vallian people have ever had. All you Ta’lonts are forces of nature! It can only help our fight for freedom to have anoth
er Ta’lont in the field of battle with us!”

Ta’lont? Was that my real last name? I wanted to ask this man so many things. He had known my father in a way I had never known, but there was simply no time to ask what I desired to. I moved quietly out into the cool still grayness of the early morning.

I heard him saying something before I was out of earshot, “Dear Lord, it looks like my time is nearly up here. Protect my boy and keep him safe. I love him so much. His mother and I have………”

The rest of what he said was lost to me as I was out of earshot now.

I had scouted out the city yesterday and I remembered the street intersection the spy had spoken of. It wasn’t far from here.

The streets were empty of life other than that of the night critters that dug in the alleyways in search of scraps that had been thrown there from the day before. Reaching the inter
section I saw a row of large planter pots going up Rassian St just as the spy had said there would be. The report was in a false bottom of one of these pots the spy had said. I came up alongside of the first pot and tapped the porcelain outer shell of the flower pot near the bottom with the butt of a knife, but no echo resounded from it. I continued up the row of pots, with no luck at finding the hollow bottomed pot.

My studied calm began to crack as there where at least fifty or more pots to go and it was getting lighter with every passing second and with it the likelihood of getting caught. Maybe the spy had lost it and there were no reports in a hollow bottomed pot after all. Maybe they only existed in his cracked imagination. Sweat had started to bead on my fore
head and it ran into my eyes. A light had come on here and there; it wouldn’t be long now before I was noticed!