Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (16 page)

The lord looked confused, and asked, “They took your daughter? I thought she was dead?”

Aeden answered, “She is, my lord. My mother saw them strike her down.”

Lady Rossam went on, “I saw them strike her, and I felt her dead, but I can’t be sure. Please, my lord, I want to return, and maybe, just maybe, find her. Perhaps if you lent us a contingent of your city guard, my son and I could—”

The lord held up his hand. “Absolutely not, my lady. As both you and your son tell me, your daughter is dead, and I will not risk my men in such a futile mission, and I would hope you do likewise. I am very sorry for your loss, my good friends, but we must look to the future, not the past, and plan for our defense.”

Lady Rossam pressed on. “But surely, my lord, we must retake the city eventually. Why not start now, and send a small force to scout out their defenses, and thus allow me to find my loved ones?”

“I have spoken. There will be no rescue attempts for those that lie dead. I am truly sorry.” The lord reached out and touched her hands on the table. “However, you are correct, we will most undoubtedly retake the city of Elbeth. I have not been in contact with the king yet, but I know him, and I am sure that he will immediately set about gathering a liberation army that will sweep the invaders from our land, and pursue them to their origin.”

Aeden added, “And I will join that army, mother. We will have our home back.”

The lord continued, “Armies require time to muster, however, so don’t make immediate plans for your revenge … please, stay with us and rest here. Consider this your home for as long as you require.” He stood. “Well, my Lord Rossam, if there is nothing else?”

Aeden hesitated. For the length of the conversation, he had been careful not to implicate the society of healers in any of the events at Elbeth. But for the sake of his city, he went on, “One more thing, my lord. At the Markham estate, one of the more capable enemy soldiers made it through. He … well … he, shocked, several of the defenders there.”

The lord sat again. “What do you mean, he shocked them?”

“He pointed his hands at them, and lightning burst forth from his finger, sending the men flying through the air. He then pointed at me, I was about to charge with my sword, and then he fell. The master healer had come just in time, and knocked him out from behind.” He stopped, not betraying the healer’s touch.

The lord shook his head. “That confirms my suspicions. Sorcery indeed. Powerful wizardry such as this is known only in legend and Chronicle. Alas that these days are ours, to confront such an evil.” He stood once more and grasped Aeden’s hand. “Thank you, Lord Rossam. If you remember anything else, please come see me at court.” He bowed slightly to Lady Rossam, and left the small house.

The lady stood on her feet, and likewise walked out of the house, collapsing to her knees in the garden, and, looking to the ground, began pulling weeds infesting the line of tomato plants near her. As Aeden watched, she continued weeding, crawling on her hands and knees down the entire length of the row, and started on the next one. He shook his head and walked away, heading for the gate to the estate and the streets below. In the days and weeks that would follow, the silent, distraught woman would spend most of her days assisting the gardeners tending the land, and at the end of each day would return to the house with hands and arms stained brown with earth and green with tomato vine. Still she said little, overcome with aching, silent grief.

Aeden began to explore the city to gather provisions and news. For many days he scouted out the city’s tavern, talking to all who passed through. He heard from one traveler that his home city was completely leveled to the ground, and alternatively from another that the invading army had nearly been defeated by an underground guerilla force. Starving for real news he turned to the shopkeepers. He approached what appeared to be a general goods store, tidy and well maintained, and opened the front door. He slowly passed shelves of candles, pots, cured meats, rope, a few well made daggers and swords, boots, cuirasses and greaves. He was handling one of the finer armors when the short shopkeeper approached him.

“A fine piece that one is. I bought it from a travelling armor-smith out of Ragner.” By his speech and appearance Aeden judged him to be a well mannered man, possibly from the capital, clean and well dressed.

“It is fine indeed. My father had an armory full of pieces like this. I owned one not too long ago…”

“Yes? I presume you are one of the refugees from the city of Elbeth? So tragic. And yet we thank you and praise you greatly for coming to warn us of the danger.” The man extended his hand and shook Aeden’s vigorously, who forced a weak smile.

“I am indeed thankful to be here in your beautiful city. The Creator smiles upon it, and may he continue to do so.” The man beamed at him. He then took him by the shoulders and guided the young man to another shelf.

“Now, look at this one. Crafted of the finest leather and steel. Ribbed with articulating joints for maximal range of motion and comfort. Very sturdy and yet veritably a work of art. This was the last made by the Great Smith of Ramath before he passed on to meet the Creator.” Aeden gave a slow whistle. He had never seen so finely crafted armor. The workmanship was phenomenal—the seams invisible, the joining of leather and metal as natural as if they were of the same substance. From the shoulder guards down to the leg greaves it was a complete whole, not a collection of raw materials as many armors seemed.

The man continued, “And the Great Smith also made this sword you see next to it, intending them to be used together. Between them they have a continuity of style that is unusual for a weapon and armor set. From what I understood, he made these intending to give them to his only son before he died, but as fate would have it, his son accidentally perished the very day he finished them. Overcome with grief, he soon was consumed by illness and he died within the month. He had no kin, so the lord of the city auctioned off his possessions, and I was lucky enough to snap this up among some of his other gear. I insist, you will try it on!”

With that, the man grabbed it off the display mount and presented it to Aeden, who, eyes wide, looked from armor to shopkeeper and back to armor, deciding whether or not to oblige the man, yet dearly hoping the man would insist further. He did: “Go on! It looks like it would fit your tall athletic frame perfectly.” Convinced, Aeden slipped off his outer clothes given by Lord Whitehall and worked his way into the fine construction. It was difficult to put on, and yet once equipped conformed nearly perfectly to his body and did not constrict any movement. He strapped the belts in place and secured the various buckles. The man then strapped the sword to his torso, the hilt now rising slightly above his right shoulder.

 “There! No officer in the Royal Guard itself ever was arrayed so finely! Come, look in the mirror.” He guided Aeden to the other side of the shop and presented him to a full body length mirror—an object itself very rare in the kingdom. He caught his breath. He admiringly turned right and left, then raised his arm to unsheathe the sword. It was well balanced, sharp, and noble looking, yet with a deadly air to it. The blade was sharp, with a slight curve to it, the hilt a seamless combination of leather and steel. He smiled broadly at himself in the mirror, posing this way and that for several minutes, chatting with the shopkeeper about the armor’s construction or the sword’s fine balance.

After awhile he sighed, “Sir, I thank you for your generosity and indulgence. In my father’s armory, never was there anything like this, and my mind has been consoled a little by your kindness. But, alas! My father and little sister lay dead in Elbeth, and my father’s house surely looted by the stone-faced army that has occupied it. I must now return to our lodgings to console my mother, who I fear may never recover from her grief.”

He began to unstrap the belts and remove the treasure from his body. The man bowed his head and murmured, “Creator have mercy upon this good man and his dear mother.” He assisted Aeden in removing the armor and placed it back upon the mount. He then guided him through the rest of the shop and suggested some provisions for their temporary home, and assured him he would only accept the smallest amount of payment. Aeden picked out some candles, asking the man about his knowledge of recent events.

During this discussion, the back door opened and a young woman entered. Aeden looked up at her. It was without a doubt the girl from the Master Healer’s mind, the one he could not stop staring at. The bundle of candles slipped out of his hands, and he stumbled to catch them before they struck the ground. In the process he banged his head on the counter and then, hand cradling his forehead, he backed into a weapon rack that spilled its six or seven swords that clattered to the floor. “I’m so sorry! Do forgive my clumsiness, sir!” He bent over to collect the swords and the shopkeeper rushed over to help him, asking him if his head was all right and telling him not to worry about the candles, and yes, the swords were all right, a few scratches but nothing too terrible, and oh how inconsiderate of his daughter to startle him like that.

When all was set aright, Aeden looked up again at the girl, whose eyes were wide and with mouth half smiling, half frowning, which he later decided was an expression of extreme amusement. “Good day, my lady.” He bowed slightly, “My name is Aeden Rossam, second son and heir of his Lordship, the late Lord Alastair Rossam, sixth duke of Elbeth for his majesty the king, and holder of the ancient scepter of King Rossam the second.” He said rather stiffly.

 The girl, her expression changed from amusement to one of faint disappointment, replied, pointing to her father, “And I am Betha, daughter of him.” She turned to her father, “Papa, do beans and potatoes sound agreeable for supper tonight?”

“Of course, my love. I will close up the shop in an hour or so.”

 “And papa,” she leaned towards him and whispered, “I made bread.”

He threw his hands up, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “What’s the occasion?”

“Because I love you.” She kissed his forehead back, “And don’t forget papa, I train with the society tonight. I don’t expect to return until near midnight.” Aeden, never looking away from her, widened his eyes at the mention of the society.

Her father nodded, “Yes, yes, I remember. Just do be careful and remember the danger that is all about us in these evil days.”

Aeden piped in, “You study with the healers?”

Betha glanced at him sharply “Yes. Pleased to meet your highness.” And curtly turned to walk out of the shop.

“Wait! Don’t call me that. I’m not royalty. And, and, well, I was studying with the healers too. In Elbeth.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “Really. You? A healer? You looked more like a swordsman to me a moment ago. Healers don’t take lives, they give it.”

Aeden frowned. “Well I would not expect a shopkeeper’s daughter to know any better. No disrespect meant to you, sir, of course.” He said, bowing slightly and rather awkwardly to the man. “But for your knowledge, I was approached by the Master Healer himself not two fortnights ago with his solicitations to join his society of healers, and he has since been training me personally ever since.”

 She folded her arms, and replied with delicious sarcasm, “Oh. My apologies your majesty. I have been a member of the society for seven years now, and am apprentice to swordmaster Arturo, but I had no idea that he would accept into the society a royal … er, gentleman, such as yourself, being as you no doubt are concerned with far more pressing issues like the contents of your royal armory and the number of your household staff. Good evening.” She turned once more and left the shop in a hurry.

He turned to the shopkeeper. “My apologies, sir, I spoke rashly, and did not mean to demean your station in life. Your daughter—she is quite beautiful.”

The man smiled and nodded, “No offense taken, my boy. You’ve been through enough the past few weeks. Do not worry about a thing, besides your lost loved ones and your mother. A healer too, hmm? My daughter is perceptive—I did not see you as a healer when you walked through my door. But, looks may lie. I am honored to have another healer in my house. You are most welcome to return any time you need anything at all—you need not bring any money with you here.” And, arm around Aeden’s shoulders, he guided him to the front door to see him off.

Aeden paused at the door, “Sir, do you know where your daughter meets with the other healers?” “Yes,” the man started, “yes, there is the healer’s hall, of course, but I believe the young ones gather at a place beyond the city gates in the countryside. Go out the gate and turn south. After a few farms you will see a vast field, amidst which lies a small grove of trees. They meet there every few days to practice their healing art. But I repeat my warning to my daughter: do be careful. If you go there, you are outside the protection of the city gates, and we are in dangerous times as you well know.”

Aeden bowed again in farewell, “Thank you, father, for your kindness.” and slipped out the door, looking south.

Chapter Ten

“…but if life be a game, who then shall win? If I be of two parts, does one play the other, or stand we one against the third? And if the third play not at all, shall my two halves then split the prize?” –Wisdom of Rutha, 13:11