Tag: Swords and Meetings

In “The Alley”, Cade of Galaras, a poet and dramatist opposed to the Church of Herotus, faced a group of Holy Knights. Three warriors came to his aid: Eam, a sorcerer and ex-mercenary; Drustan, a Half-Orc Barbarian; and Sabrine, an attractive and stealthy archer. The four escaped the Holy Knights, and we now rejoin them as they relax in the comforting environs of a tavern

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Two: The Bar

We sat in a small tavern, a place Drustan knew well. The owner owed him some debt, as so many did. Across from me, the man I had come to know as Galeris of the Valley and Casrid of the Feather held a cup of wine and watched me silently. Sabrine sat beside him, talking of some inconsequential event or another. She liked to prattle around pretty men.

I don’t know what I had expected of the writer of the broadsheets and tracts against the One True Church of Herotus, but the man in front of me did not meet any expectation. When I had heard that he might be in the city, we had sought him out. Sabrine had thought it a waste of time. Drustan didn’t make any comment. Both as I had expected.

There, in the theatre, after a presentation of the satire “the Priest of Wry,” the man calling himself Galeris of the Valley addressed the crowd. Most, like us, had grievances against the Church, so he had a receptive audience. Of middling height and small stature, ‘Galeris’ had the telltale ears and sharp features that marked him as not quite Human and not quite Elven. I hadn’t expected that. It didn’t change anything.

The arrival of Holy Knights interrupted the oration and precipitated a small riot. I applauded the citizens for that, if for nothing else. The problem was that we lost Galeris in the confusion. Luckily so had the Knights. No one, though, escaped Drustan for long. Even in the city, Drustan followed the trail until we found the man I then came to know as Cade of Galaras. He had some Initiates and a few Knights with him, but we had faced that difficulty before.

“So Eam said we needed to find you, see if you needed our help,” Sabrine said. “I guess you did.”

Cade’s eyes moved from me to Sabrine. “So I did, but I still don’t understand who you are.”

I frowned. “We’ve given you our names and our purpose. What more do you need?”

Sabrine waved away the question. “I think my cousin’s a little upset finding that you aren’t some wise old man who can show us the path to overthrowing the Church.”

Drustan chuckled beside me. I gave him an accusatory glance—some ally he. Truth was, Sabrine was right, Drustan knew it, and so I really shouldn’t have expected anything more. He only offered support when I was correct, so not too often.

“To help your understanding, I will introduce myself to you.” Drustan spoke from under his hood. In public places, he always disappeared beneath stooped posture, huge cloaks and hoods. He had reason to fear anyone seeing his face. “As you know, my name is Drustan of Teyrs. I was a scion of a noble branch of an illustrious tribe until the Holy Knights came. My people do not accept your Church.” He paused, then touched his palm to his forehead, his gesture for apology. “I mean the Church of Herotus. Some king or other coveted the caravan routes through the mountains which my tribe controlled. I cannot tell stories, but I will say the war was long. Then the Holy Knights came. They killed warriors, elders and waifs. They burned the sick in their hostels and those who offered to kiss the feet of the Knights’ god received the quick death of the sword rather than the pain of the flame.”

“But you survived,” Cade said. “If you faced all the Church, how did you survive?”

“I learnt that war is not glory, war is will.” Drustan placed both hands on his chest. He spoke truth. “My people fight for glory. We mark ourselves with our totems and our victories. The Knights only fight to win. They do not care for glory and they do not care for honour, they love only their god and blood. I learnt to defeat them, I must live. I can kill one or I can kill twenty, but in the end they triumph if I die. So I left my land and my tribe.”

“Drustan and I met years ago.” I tried to keep my voice even. I think I failed. “When I was younger, I marched with Alder’s Free Blades.” Cade didn’t ask about Sherasvale, as most everyone did. Maybe he didn’t know about it. Whatever the reason, I appreciated not relating once again the story of losing everyone for whom I had cared. “When I left VeBrance, I needed someone who knew these lands, so I sought out Drustan.”

“Fate led him to me.” Drustan tapped my shoulder with his fist, as he always did when marking our sworn kinship. “And I led him to his cousin.”

Cade glanced over at Sabrine, and I could see the interest in his eyes. My cousin was a young woman who had the strength of a soldier but the appearance of a princess. Men tended to abase themselves to her. I was man enough to see her beauty and cousin enough to bemoan it. Still, she always seemed to understand the situation better than I, so I never intervened. I waited for the day when she came to me crying and I would need to spill the blood of the man who had robbed her of her virtue.

That or she would get married and have eighteen children. With Sabrine, one never knew.

“My family came from VeBrance just after my birth,” Sabrine said. “I knew I had family there, but I had never sought them out. Then Eam came and found me.”

“Found her marching with Tersit’s Legion.” Eam held Sabrine’s eyes as they shared the memory. “A scout and spy that Captain Tersit figured was his best asset. She only had to say a word and Drustan and I had a commission.”

“Well, Drustan had a commission as soon as Tersit saw him,” Sabrine said. “I don’t think there’s a captain alive who wouldn’t want Drustan in his company. Now Eam, well that took some pleading.”

“That is all very interesting, but it really doesn’t explain anything,” Cade said. “What are you doing here? And why are you seeking me?”

Eam pointed to his own chest. “The man who sold out Alder’s Free Blades was a prelate of the Church.” Eam touched Drustan’s arm. “The men who killed Drustan’s tribe were of the Church.” Eam waved to Sabrine, his hand loose. “And Sabrine just wanted to do something different.” Eam leaned over the table. “I am sentenced to burn because I’m a heretic. Drustan is sentenced to burn because he’s apparently a demon. If Sabrine gets caught with us, she can expect pretty much the same. Do you see what we have in common?”

Cade still played with his cup of wine, though he hadn’t drank from it. “So we’re all against the Church. You seem all capable with physically confronting the Church, but that is not what I do.”

“You have skill with your blade,” Drustan said. “I could teach you to be better.”

“That’s just it, I don’t want to be better with my blade.” Cade tapped his head. “I want to be better with my head. I want to write something that will make people see what has happened, what is happening all around them. If the people don’t turn against the Church, it’ll never fall. You can’t kill the Church.”

“That’s why we’ve come for you,” Sabrine said. “Like Eam said, I’m in this because he is. Family is important to me. But I can see what the Church has done. I can see what it’s doing. Eam says you’re the man who can make people see the truth. The truth I see is that you’ll be dead long before that happens.”

“The Holy Knights almost had you today,” Drustan said. “Next time may be the day your fate meets you.”

Cade shook his head. “So you’re going to be my bodyguards?”

Sabrine guffawed, as loud and deep as any soldier. “Is that what you need? No, we’re offering you a place with us. We know people, probably different than the people you know. We figure getting the pen and sword together would be a good idea. At some point, people like you will need people like us.”

“So I continue doing what I’m doing?” Cade asked.

“And we continue what we are doing.” Sabrine said. “We just have one more horse, and hopefully one more rider.”

“How can I trust you?” Cade asked.

Eam leaned forward. “Look into my eyes, listen to me when I tell you that I live to see this Church fall. I honestly think your words can help topple the Church, so I want to keep you alive. Sabine and Drustan have deferred to me on this. That’s pretty rare, so consider that a good omen. We move a lot and we travel light, but there are people we know who can take your letters or whatever you have and deliver them where they need to go.”

For the first time, Cade smiled. He leaned back and raised his cup. “If I am to die, I will die in this company. I salute you, my new company. Not actors, not playwrights, not orators or minstrels, still a good company with hope and vision. Let us prosper.”

We all took up our cups and joined the salute. I drank deep, emptying my cup. Sabrine, Drustan and I slammed our empty cups down onto the table, as was our custom. It seemed to startle Cade.

“Your cups are loud, but mine is quiet.” Cade put his cup to his ear, as though listening to it. “I hear it whisper of a butcher in Terrisdale who runs a common house we might like to visit. His brother is a priest of the Church and passes on such interesting rumors.”

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Eam, Cade, Drustan and Sabrine return in “Dramatic Entrances,” a part of  Swords and A Squandering Snail.

This is the first in a selection of fiction that had been written for the Lorestaves project. The episodes encompass an introduction and what was to be the first module in the series. Each module would then have its own short story to accompany it. The stories could be combined into a longer work, much as the modules could be combined into a full campaign.

The introduction and first short story were completed, but the project was then cancelled and nothing more was written. If there is enough interest, I might consider re-visiting the story. The good thing is that even if the story is not re-visited, what exists does tell a complete story, so readers will not be left hanging.

Without further ado, here is the first episode of Lorestaves fiction.

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One: The Alley

Cade stood in the alley, looking out at the flowing river of humanity and into the setting sun. He knew someone in that mob of revellers, hawkers, pimps and marks hunted him. Likely more than one. He had his blade with him, and he expected to use it. He didn’t want to. He had never wanted that. He knew they would force him to it, given the chance.

Not completely a man of peace, Cade had learnt how to defend himself. He had learnt how to kill—he had killed—but he had never learnt how to enjoy killing. If they found him, he would need to kill again or they would silence him. He wasn’t willing to trade his silence for their lives.

They had taken good men and silenced them. It would not happen to him.

In the crowd, he saw them. Holy Knights. He scoffed—they were less holy than he, and Cade had never made any pretencions to morality. They wore breastplates and mail. Full helms covered their heads, hiding their faces. The greatswords on their backs and the bracers with the arms of the Holy Knights on their wrists marked them. Hatred boiled up in Cade. They had taken the man who had taught him music, had taught him poetry. They had taken Galrid of Hehrville, and Cade could never forgive them.

“Hello, heretic.” The voice was behind him.

Cade spun, his sword in hand. He faced four Holy Knights. He sized up his foes and a slight sense of relief touched him. The bracers of the men he faced marked them as Initiates rather than full Knights.

“Four of you against a simple poet, is it?” Cade tapped his palm with the flat of his sword. “Which is dying first? Did they tell you who you face?” Pure bravado, but he hoped to put them off balance.

A scornful chortle echoed through the lead Initiate’s helm. “Some proud heretic with a farmer’s blade in his hand.” The Initiate drew his greatsword. “I wonder how you will fare against the sword of a knight.”

“Knight?” Cade offered a smirk. “Now which of us is proud? You are an Initiate. Perhaps you hope to be a Knight. I, on the other hand, am a man without hope. Do you know what happens to a man without hope?” The Initiates did not advance, so Cade did. “He becomes a man without fear. He is a man with nothing to lose. There is nothing you can take from me that you have not already.”

The lead Initiate went to guard, but did not attack. “Except your life.”

Cade took another step. He put his sword to guard, almost touching the blade of the lead Initiate. “You’ll trade many of yours for that.”

Behind the Initiates, a blossom of fire illuminated the alley. From the fire came a voice.

“I would just as soon you didn’t.”

Cade heard a roar, much as he imagined a lion would sound. The Initiates parted, flattening themselves against the walls of the buildings bordering the alley. Cade saw two figures at the other end. Flames enwreathed one, but did not burn him. Not a tall man, he held out his arms, fire dancing between them. His eyes burned red, and his dark hair kindled. A voluminous red and black cloak hid his body.

The other figure had arms the size of Cade’s legs. He thrust out his jaw and Cade thought he heard a growl. Though like a man, tusks protruded from the other figure’s lower jaw. Hair sprouted on his face, as it would on an ape or a leopard. He had dark eyes, almost black. A long blade topped the short spear in his hand, like a sword on a pole. The shield on his other arm had a blade on its crown and the mark of a black crow. He had the same mark as a tattoo on his forehead. Flanking that crow tattoo on his face were one black wolf and one white wolf.

The lead Initiate, who had threatened Cade, held up a shaky hand. “Stand back, citizens. We are performing our lawful duty of arresting a heretic.”

“You can walk away from here, or you can die,” the burning man said. “I would rather you walk away, but Drustan here has a score to settle.”

Another of the Initiates pointed at the bestial man. “You are Drustan the Half-Orc.”

When Drustan spoke, it came like gravel underfoot, rough and coarse. “I am Drustan of Teyrs, last of my clan. Your kind killed my mother, my father and all my brothers. You’ll fall to me and scream at the feet of your god.”

“Get ready,” said a woman’s voice at Cade’s ear.

Startled, he turned. She stood just beside him. He could not see her well, save for her face. She seemed to disappear into the growing darkness. All he saw was a bright smile and two jade, green eyes that flashed like jewels. She winked, and it was then Cade noticed she had a bow in hand.

“When Eam gets going, it’s best to stand back,” she said.

“Who are you?” Cade asked.

She quietly laughed—a cool, clear spring falling on pebbles. “We’re friends, mister poet.” She put arrow to string and aimed. “Which one should die first?”

“None of them,” Cade said.

She glanced at him, the tip of the arrow dropping. “You’re serious?”

Cade looked down the alley. The man named Eam and the one named Drustan still spoke with the Initiates. “If they will leave, let them.”

“You’re a better person than I,” the woman said. She lowered her bow. With her arm extended in front of her, her palm facing the ground, she slashed the air before her.

Eam nodded. “Sheath your blades and leave. The poet is ours. Walk away.”

Drustan looked back to Eam. Cade realized Drustan had crouched. He rose and stood over eighteen hands. Eam cast a glance at Drustan then return his focus to the Initiates To Cade’s surprise, Drustan lowered his spear, placing the tip on the ground.

“Walk away and you will live,” Drustan said. “Offer me a reason, and I’ll send you all to your god.”

Something suddenly occurred to Cade. “They’re behind us as well.”

The woman beside him furrowed her brows. “Who?”

Cade spun, sword ready. “The Holy Knights.”

The flames in the alley cast spare light out on to the street. So early in the evening, few noticed it. Some had, and they wore armour and carried greatswords. These Holy Knights approached the alleyway, drawing their blades.

The woman put arrow to bow and spun. Before Cade could speak, that arrow flew, catching one of the knights in the shoulder, where mail met plate. Cade looked back at the alley. Drustan had stepped forward. Eam pointed to the nearest Initiate.

“Make your peace,” Eam said.

A bolt of red light sped from his hand to the nearest Initiate, flashing when they struck. That man screamed as he fell back, his armour charred. Drustan leaped forward, slashing with his long-bladed spear. He caught one Initiate beneath the helm, sending forth a plume of red. The Initiate dropped to the ground, his blood spilling forth into a growing, dark pool.

The lead Initiate turned to Cade. “You die.”

He lunged. Cade caught the greatsword on his own blade. His sword almost wrenched from his hand. Cade stepped to the side, sliding his blade away from the greatsword then driving it into the Initiate’s hip, below the breastplate. The sword caught mail, but found an opening. The Initiate fell to one knee.

The woman’s voice came as a shout, almost a scream. “Eam, I need help.”

Eam drew out a sword. Cade saw his lips move but was too far to hear the sound. The sword’s blade turned ice-white. Drustan stood in the alley, trading blows with the Initiates Eam now joined him. Where his sword struck, ice formed. The Initiates gave way, but that left Cade and the woman trapped between retreating Initiates and advancing Knights.

“I hope your blade is as sharp as your tongue,” the woman said. She slid her bow onto her back and drew a thin-bladed sword with an intricate hilt like a cage protecting her hand.

Cade felt heat then a cool breeze at his back. He turned. The three Initiates that remained had lowered their swords and had dropped to hands and knees. Drustan stood with his long-bladed spear poised over them. Fire danced around Eam.

“Sabrine, let’s go.” Eam held out his hand.

The woman named Sabrine laughed as she saluted the advancing Knights. “The turtle won’t win this race.” She tapped Cade’s arm with the flat of her blade. “Ready to go?”

Cade followed them as they ran. Eam’s fire disappeared and the coming night’s gloom soon enveloped them in the maze of alleys.

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Swords and Meetings continues with “the Bar.”