The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (30 page)

Kenner responded with a serious expression.

“No!” She almost yelled.  “It can’t be!”

“I’m afraid it is.” He said.

“Now I really need a drink.”

              The two found an empty table, sat and Terri ordered drinks.  A few moments later, a buxom barmaid arrived with two glasses half full of brown liquid.  Kenner took a casual drink and nearly coughed it back up.  It was so strong, he could taste it in his nose and his eyes and it gave a burning sensation as it traveled its way down his throat.

“What the hell is that?” He coughed.

“Malt whiskey.” Terri answered plainly.  Terri took a sip from her own glass.  “Twelve years old, by the taste of it.”

Kenner’s throat burned and tears starting welling up in his eyes.

“You could have warned me that it was going to defend itself.”

“A person’s first taste of malt whiskey should be like his or her first night of passion; scary, painful, too quick, but ultimately leaving you thirsty for more.” Terri said, taking another sip.

“I wouldn’t know.” Kenner answered, wiping tears from his eyes.

              “Wouldn’t know what?” Terri asked with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Never mind.” Kenner said quickly.

“Wouldn’t know what a night of passion is like?  Is that what you said?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Terri’s eyes widened and her entire face beamed.

“You mean to tell me you’re a virgin?” She almost shouted.

“Would you mind keeping it down?” Kenner said, almost in a panic.

“The great warrior, Kenner?  Wielder of the Black Sword?  An apple that hasn’t been plucked?”

“I’m going to hit you in a second.”

Terri then stood up, as if at attention.  She gave a military salute and called out, “All hail Kenner, the chaste!”

Kenner then grabbed her and pulled her, laughing back down to her chair.  She laughed out loud and Kenner, after a moment laughed too.

              The two of them sat drinking and talking until the sun disappeared from the door.  Terri told her story of the Blackwoods, the Wolfen, sleeping in trees and finding the Blackwood Bow.  She also told of the beautiful Lady of the Woods that she thought she might be falling in love with.

“Do you think, maybe she feels the same way about you?” Kenner asked her.  He’d had three ales by this point as was feeling much more comfortable.

“Are you crazy?” Terri laughed.  “She’s a queen of a magical land.  She probably doesn’t even remember my name now.”

“How can anyone forget you?” Kenner teased.

“Ask my last girlfriend.”

              Kenner also told of his journey in the mountains and of finding the sword.  He didn’t tell of his shadow or give any indication as to where the tomb was; nor did he talk of the treasure in the tomb.  He spoke of his armor, of the bandits in the woods and of Shela finding him twice.

“Let me get this straight,” Terri pressed him.  “I fed and took care of that cat for almost an entire month, and she saves your ass?”

“I guess she prefers boys to girls,” Kenner teased.

              Finally, one of them spoke of Captain Krall.

“How is he?” Kenner asked after finding out that he was alive and in the city.

“He’s fine,” Terri answered.  “He’s on trial and might possibly be hanged, but other than that, he’s fine.”

“On trial for what?” said Kenner, almost falling out of his chair.

Terri tried to sober herself enough to tell the story accurately.

“According to the Lord Mayor of Calderon, he faked a military emergency so that he could evacuate the city and rob it blind.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kenner said.

“I agree.  And that’s precisely what I said when I testified in court this morning.”

“Then he should be off the hook.”

“Not quite.”

“What now?”

“The prosecutor, who also happens to be a friend of the Lord Mayor of Calderon says I’m lying to protect him.”

             
At that moment, two soldiers pushed their way to Kenner and Terri’s table.  They stood over him, trying to look menacing.

“Are you the one called Kenner?” One of them asked.

“Who’s asking?” Terri asked, sounding drunk and angry.

The soldiers then leaned on the table.

“Are you Kenner?”

Terri started to try and stand, but Kenner grabbed her arm.

“I am.” Kenner answered them.

“Come with us.” The soldier said to him.

“Am I under arrest?”

“No.” The soldier answered.  “You’ve been called to testify in court.”

             
As they left, Kenner threw one of his gold coins at the bartender.  As he walked out the door, he heard the bartender yell and sing.

Chapter Thirty Seven

             
Captain Krall sat in a chair in his cell smoking his pipe and thinking that Walechian prisons had improved since the first time he been imprisoned over thirty years previous.  Like the young and defiant Kenner, he was a petty criminal who had been given the choice of joining the army or suffering worse punishment.  As he was a pickpocket, his punishment would have been to either spend a year in prison or have his hand cut off.  His third option was the army.  That felt like a dozen lifetimes ago to the man who had served and fought for his nation for so long.

              In the middle of another tedious evening, the door to Krall’s cell opened and, at first he couldn’t tell who it was entering with the torchlight behind him.  Krall was able to focus on the person entering his cell and recognized Kenner standing before him.

“By the great lady,” He said, trying not to yell.  “You made it.”

“Yes, I did.” Kenner answered him.  “And it looks like I got here just in time.”

“A day or two earlier would have been better.”

             
Kenner looked at the cell around him.

“This is a lot nicer than the cell I had.” He told Krall.

“You’re not an officer and you don’t have as many friends in this city as I have.” Krall answered.

“Speaking of friends,” Kenner added.  He then handed Krall a canteen.  Krall opened the top, smelled it and discovered immediately that it as ale.

“Let me guess,” said Krall; “our mutual female friend with the bow?”

“The very one.”

             
For the next hour, Kenner sat and listened to Captain Krall tell the story of his journey.  Kenner wanted to tell him of his story; but something told him that it wasn’t quite the time.  Instead, he just listened like he used to in his village when the elders told their stories.

              Kenner also noticed a difference in the way Krall was speaking to him.  His tone was less commanding or officious.  It was more familiar; as if talking to a friend.  He thought it strange, at first, but then found himself liking it.

              If nothing else, Kenner thought to himself, Krall had been fair and honest with him.  As his captor, he had treated him and his cousins decently.  As his commanding officer, he had been evenhanded and reasonable.  He had been just, impartial and even, to a small degree somewhat kind to him.  Kenner had no complaints of him as either an imprisoner or superior and was proud to have fought with him.  Seeing him in the jail, but still maintaining his pride and bearing had Kenner respecting him even more.

              “So why are they doing this to you?” Kenner asked him.

“Do you want my honest opinion or the answer I’m likely to give in court tomorrow?”

“Let’s try your honest opinion.”

“The mayor is an arrogant ass who’s upset that I interrupted his beauty sleep.”

Kenner laughed as he took a drink from the ale Terri had provided him.

“Terri said you could hang if you’re convicted.”

“It’s possible, but I think it unlikely.  The charge is ridiculous and he has no evidence.  I think the King should be able to see right through it.”

“So the King’s judging you?” Kenner asked.

“He is, but there’s a panel of judges that could overrule him, if they want.”

“What’s the likelihood of that?”

“I doubt it.  It’s very rare that the King is overruled on these kinds of decisions.”

              “What I’m most concerned about,” The Captain continued, “is the delay this trial is causing.  Every day Grail and his army gets closer to Mobrey and their objective.  If we don’t raise an army to strike back, we may not get the chance.  Once that army is entrenched at Mobrey, they could hold out for weeks until a larger force comes up behind them.  If that happens, it will be a long and bloody war Walechia may not be able to win.”

              They sat silently for a few moments, drinking and Captain Krall continued smoking.

“You said your father was a soldier.” Krall said, breaking the silence.

“He was,” Kenner answered.  “He fought in two of the Causton wars.”

“He must have been quite a warrior,” Krall added.  “If he was half the fighter you are, he must have been quite a man.”

“He was,” Kenner went on.  “And he was much more than just a fighter.”

“Was he a good man?”

“Yes, he was.  But the King must have done something really awful to him for my father to hate him so much.”

Krall nodded.

“The King has not always been wise in his decisions.” He said.

              There then came a knock on the door.

“Time’s up!” The guard at the door barked.

“I guess that’s my cue.” Kenner said as he stood up from the bed he was sitting on.

Krall then handed him the canteen.

“If afraid you’ll have to take this with you.” He said.

              As Kenner stood in the door and turned to say goodbye; Captain Krall asked him a question.

“What was your father’s name?”

Kenner looked seriously at Krall.

“His name was Banner.” He told him.

Suddenly, Kenner saw Captain Krall’s eyes widen and he had an expression of both surprise and awe.

“You’re Banner’s son?”

“Time to go.” The guard told Kenner and he left.

Captain Krall spent the rest of the night in amazement.  Kenner was the son of the great General Banner.  A part of him told him that he should have known.

Chapter Thirty Eight

              Kenner and Terri took rooms at an inn near the palace.  Terri, still slightly drunk had no trouble falling asleep.  Kenner, on the other hand was wide awake in the room next to hers.  Even in the soft bed with clean sheets, he couldn’t sleep.  He lay awake most of the night staring at the ceiling with thoughts that would not let him rest.  How did Captain Krall know his father, he asked himself?  Had they served together in the war?  Were they friends?

              His father rarely spoke of the war and never mentioned anyone he knew from that time in his life.  He sometimes spoke of an unjust and foolish king of a corrupt and “morally bankrupt” kingdom; but he never said anything of anyone he knew.  Krall’s reaction, Kenner thought was of someone who, from appearances knew him well.  He knew there was a lot his father didn’t tell him, but never pressed his father for any more than what he told and warned him about.

              Perhaps Krall could tell him about his father, Kenner thought.  Perhaps he could fill in some of the blank spaces he always wondered about.  What was he like as a young man?  What did he do in the war?  Why was he banished?

              “Trouble sleeping?” asked a familiar voice.  “Shadow” stepped out of a dark corner of his room and into the flickering candle light.  Kenner was startled for a moment, but not afraid.  Her voice was soft and soothing, almost like a breeze and her eyes were like dark, yet clear pools.

“I thought you were busy.” He said to her.