The Godling Chronicles The Shadow of God

chapter 16





Frost covered the bleak landscape as Lee and Jacob rose from their tent, shivering and rubbing their arms. The bitter cold of the far north was nothing even a Hazrian Lord could ignore. Fires already burned around the camp and the scent of bacon wafted on the frigid air. Darius was already up. Something uncharacteristic for the fat merchant. He was kneeling down by a fire, cradling a cup of hot coffee in his gloved hands. Lee and Jacob joined him.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Darius. “It seems foolish to me.”

“I'm sure,” Lee replied. He grabbed the tin kettle from the spit and poured himself a cup. “If what I hear is true, we will gain passage north if we join the army. All new recruits are brought to Kratis for training and deployment. And that's where we need to go.”

“I haven't asked you your true business,” said Darius. “And I won't. But you seek the palace of the Reborn King, it would seem. If you do this, you will be caught, and you will die. You don't want to know the stories I've heard about what they do to spies.”

“I can imagine,” Lee said, soberly. The thought of his son suffering torture caused his stomach to knot. “Still, we must try.”

“Well, if I cannot dissuade you,” said Darius, “at least allow me to help you.” He reached in his coat and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. “It's a letter of endorsement stating that you have been in my service for the past five years. I am known in these parts, so it will pass scrutiny.”

Lee took it, and smiled gratefully. “Yes. This will certainly help.”

They ate, and then packed their gear. Fennio and three others awaited them by the road. Lee knew it was a risk to travel with the others. Should their cover story be questioned, any of them could say that Lee and Jacob had only just joined the caravan. If that happened, the endorsement letter would be a liability. Darius was there as well, holding five small purses.

“Alright, lads,” said Darius. “Don't you ever say I'm not a fair man.” He handed out the purses to the men. The jingle of coins sounded as they bounced them up and down. “Don't you go counting it just yet. You've been paid already, so wait until I'm gone to complain about how little is there.”

“Thank you for all your help,” said Lee. He shook Darius’ hand firmly and smiled.

Darius laugh heartily. “And thank you for saving my life.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go. I have a business to run, and wine to drink.” He spun on his heels and strode back to his tent.

The recruiting station was three miles away, at the Whiterun Pass garrison, just south of the city proper. It only took them an hour to arrive, but the town could be seen from more than a mile away. Tall buildings of burgundy stone rose from behind thick granite walls. Lee was impressed. Cities and towns this far north were little more than trading posts for the most part. In fact, Hazrah was by far the largest city north of the Razor Edge Mountains, and it was small compared to Baltria or Althetas. Clearly, Angrääl had been hard at work.

The garrison was impressive as well. It resembled an ancient fortress, similar to those in paintings he had on his walls back in Sharpstone. The twenty-foot curtain walls were smooth and seamless, as if carved from a single block, stretching out two- hundred feet, left to right. In the center, an arched iron gatehouse door, covered in vicious spikes, was closed shut. At the corners of the wall, round towers loomed another twenty feet, with dozens of arrow slits looking outward, and capped with a domed turret manned by three watches. Atop each turret dome, the now familiar banner of Angrääl flapped in the strong north wind. The walls were patrolled by at least two dozen archers and pike-men.

Just outside the gatehouse door, someone had set up a long table. Two soldiers stood at both ends, and a slightly built man in a red linen suit and thick wool coat, sat taking information from four new recruits. Lee, Jacob and the others filed in behind them. Each recruit was told to wait a few feet away from the table after their information had been taken.

When it was Lee's turn, he handed the recruiter the letter. The man examined it for a moment, then sighed.

“More sell-swords,” he muttered. “Do you have any military experience?”

“No, sir,” Lee replied. “But my nephew and I are both good with a blade. We're from—”

“I don't care where you're from.” He glanced up, then shook his head. “I'm sure you are both eager to join up, so we'll make this quick.”

The man took their names, (the false ones, naturally), and wrote down what skills they listed. After he finished, he had them sign a large parchment and instructed them to wait with the others. After the rest joined them, they huddled together trying to fight off the cold. For hours they just sat there as dozens of men came to join. By late afternoon their numbers had swelled to nearly one-hundred. No offer of food or drink had been made, so Lee and Jacob shared what little they had with Fennio and the rest of Darius' former guards, who had clearly not thought to bring anything for themselves.

An hour before sundown, the recruiter stood and announced that anyone else who wished to join must return tomorrow. The two guards picked up the table and followed the man into the gatehouse. The sun was nearly gone, and the air began to turn even colder. It wasn't long before the new recruits became restless, and disgruntled whispers could be heard.

“Enough of this bloody nonsense,” yelled a stocky, dark-haired fellow, clad in thick, leather mail. “I did not come here to freeze and starve.” He strode off south.

There was a whistle and a thud, as an arrow pierced the back of the man’s neck. He fell to his knees, grasping desperately at the arrow, then crumpled to the ground, gurgling his last breaths.

“In case you were wondering, you are not permitted to leave.” A tall, lean man stepped from the gatehouse. He was wearing a shining metal breast plate with the broken scales of Angrääl etched in gold across it. His blond hair was cropped close, and even in the fading light his chiseled features and square jaw were evident. He was as broad as Lee in the shoulders and carried himself with supreme confidence. A thick, heavy broadsword hung from his belt and in his hands a short, curved bow. He dropped the bow to the ground and walked toward the men. “I am Captain Faris Lanmore. From the moment you signed your name, you were in the service of the Reborn King of Angrääl. And as you can see, we do not tolerate desertion.”

He strolled casually in front of the men. When he reached Lee he paused. “You have a hard look about you.” His eyes went to Jacob for a moment. “Is this your son?”

“No, sir,” replied Lee. “He is my nephew.”

Captain Lanmore nodded rubbing his chin. “Then that would make you....Barath. Yes, that’s the name you gave. I noticed you and your nephew as you approached. You claim to be a mere sell-sword, here to do some soldiering?”

“Yes, sir.” Lee tensed.

He pointed to Lee's sword. “That’s quite a weapon for a sell-sword. Let me see it.”

Lee unsheathed his weapon and handed it to the captain.

“Well-balanced,” Lanmore remarked approvingly. “Superbly crafted. A true master’s sword.” He looked up at Lee and smiled. “Is that what you are? A sword master perhaps? By the way you walk I doubt you're a mere sell-sword. I've been a soldier too long not to notice that.” He handed Lee back his sword.

Lee returned his sword to his scabbard and squared his shoulders.

“And you know when to be silent as well,” remarked Lanmore. “Good. Very good. Well, whatever you run from, you need not fear it here. The Reborn King will give you a new life. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” Lee replied.

“I thought as much.” He turned his attention to the rest of the men. “That goes for everyone. Whoever you were before, whatever wrongs you have committed, they are, as of this moment, forgiven. The Reborn King grants you pardon. Together, we shall forge a new world in his name. We shall sweep aside the liars and oppressors.” His sword sang as he pulled it from his scabbard and stepped back. “But be warned. If one of you seeks to betray us, or fails in his duty, you will find the king’s justice to be harsh and final.” He turned to the gatehouse and whistled.

Ten men burst forth carrying sacks of food and blankets, and distributed them among the recruits. Soon fires were lit, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. Lee and Jacob gathered with Fennio and ate in silence.

“What do you think?” asked Fennio. “Sounds all a bit crazy to me. Not to mention that Captain Lanmore fellow shooting that poor chap.”

“If he hadn't, we'd still be sitting hungry and cold,” said Lee. “The point was to make an impression.”

“Exactly,” said a voice, just behind Lee. It was Lanmore.

Lee and the others leaped to their feet, and stood at attention.

“Come with me, Barath,” ordered Lanmore.

Captain Lanmore led Lee through the gatehouse door and into the fortress. The flagstone path led to the inner yard. A few soldiers were here and there, patrolling the area. The keep at the far end was a single story structure, with a gray slate roof. Barracks were built just below the curtain walls on either side, large enough to house two-hundred men each.

Halfway to the keep, Captain Lanmore halted and turned. “I've brought you here to see if my judgment has failed me.”

A large man, broader and taller than Lee, clad in black fur, leather boots, and carrying a long, two-handed sword, stalked out of the barracks and made his way beside Lanmore. His head was shaved and scarred, and his dark eyes fixed on Lee.

“This is Lars,” said Lanmore. “By far our strongest warrior, and one of the few we have here native to Angrääl. I want you to kill him...if you can.”

Without a word, Lee drew his sword and prepared for Lars to charge. He didn't have to wait long. The hulking Northman sprang forward with surprising agility and speed, but Lee easily moved aside and brought his blade across the man’s left arm, laying it open. The Northman roared with fury and swung his sword in a wide arc, but again, Lee stepped away. This time he sliced open his right thigh. Lars reached down, clutching the wound. Lee brought the hilt of his sword square between his opponent’s eyes. Lars staggered, and Lee struck him again, this time sending him to his back.

“Why are you toying with him?” asked Captain Lanmore. “Has he offended you?”

Lars struggled to rise, sword still in hand, but Lee brought his boot down hard. The great blade fell free and Lee kicked it away.

“Your order stands?” asked Lee, the tip of his sword and Lars' throat.

Lanmore said nothing. Lee nodded with understanding and rammed his blade through Lars' exposed neck, burying it in the flagstone below. The Northman gurgled, clutching at the wound. After a minute he moved no more. Lee cleaned his sword on his opponent’s furs.

“I'm glad I didn't test your skills with my own blade,” Lanmore remarked, with a hint of amusement. “You are clearly one of the best trained swordsmen that has come through here in some time. But then you don't hide it as well as you might think. In fact, I think you could have taken Lars the moment he came at you. Why didn't you?”

“I may have been able to kill him more quickly,” said Lee. “But, I've learned to never underestimate an opponent. His first strike may have been a deception. As it was, he moved with great speed for one of his size. I saw no need to risk it.”

“Wise,” said Lanmore, smiling. He reached in his belt and pulled out a small red ribbon. He handed it to Lee. “You shall lead the recruits on the journey north. Do a good job and there may be more rewarding positions awaiting you.” He spun on his heels and walked toward the keep.

Lee cursed under his breath and walked to the gatehouse. Four men were already collecting the body of Lars. When he reached Jacob, he pulled him away from earshot. His face gave away his feelings.

“What's wrong?” asked Jacob.

“I have failed to go unnoticed,” Lee replied. “Captain Lanmore is a very good judge of people. At least from a soldiering standpoint. He saw my training in my movements. Now, I'm promoted.”

“How is that bad?” Jacob laughed. “Won't that make things easier?”

“Don't be a fool,” growled Lee. “As a simple soldier, I could move about without drawing attention. As an officer, not only will I be noticed, but sooner or later I'll be discovered for who I am.” He thought for a moment. “If I am captured, they will figure out who you are, as well. It may be better if you flee.”

“You know I won't,” shot Jacob.

“Yes.” Lee reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I know. But if I'm found out, you must try to escape. You must abandon your attempt to rescue your mother, and head to Sharpstone. Millet will aid you.” He met Jacob’s eyes. “Swear it.”

“But—” began Jacob.

“Swear it!” he repeated, this time more forcefully.

Jacob bowed his head. “I swear. But only if rescue is impossible.”

Lee wanted to embrace his son at that moment, but didn't. He knew he must seem to others to be distant, and Lanmore may be watching. “I suppose that will suffice.” They rejoined the others and bedded down for the night.

The sunrise brought trumpets from the fortress walls. Captain Lanmore and six soldiers emerged from the gatehouse. Lee attached the ribbon to his coat and strode off to meet them.

“Good morning, Captain,” said Lee.

Lanmore nodded curtly. “Get them ready, Barath. We march in ten minutes.”

Lee spun around and jogged back to the recruits. “Form ranks!” The force of his voice snapped everyone to attention. At first they just stood, staring at him. “Now!” That was enough to get the men moving. In less than five minutes, all were packed and lined up along the road.

“You command men well,” said Lanmore, approvingly. “Not the first time, I'd wager.” He stepped forward then walked up and down the line. “We have an eight-day march to Kratis. We will do it in seven. Those who fall behind will be considered deserters. And I think you all know what happens to deserters.” He looked at Lee. “Move them out.”

Lee turned to the recruits and shouted, “On my order! Move out!”

The line moved with Lee in front, Captain Lanmore just behind him. The six soldiers positioned themselves three on each side of the recruits.

“Push the pace, Barath,” said Lanmore over Lee's shoulder. “I meant what I said about making it there in seven days.”

Lee did as he was told and sped his pace to a near jog. By midday, the recruits were panting and struggling with each step.

“Shall we halt for a meal, sir?” asked Lee.

“What do you think, Barath?” Lanmore replied. “Should we?”

“I do, sir,” Lee replied. “If you intend for these men to maintain speed, they must maintain strength. Twenty minutes to eat and rest still puts us in Kratis a day and a half ahead. And I would recommend a ten-minute respite every four hours.”

“And why is that?”

Lee straightened his shoulders. “Because, sir, most of these men will not be able to keep this up for seven days without it; unless you intend to execute half of them before we arrive.”

“Perhaps I want to weed out the weak,” said Lanmore. “Or perhaps I simply don't care about how tired they get.” He chuckled softly. “But as is happens, I agree. The king's army would not be served if I killed off half of the men.”

Lee was relieved. “May I asked a question, sir?”

“You may,” said Lanmore.

“Do you usually escort new recruits to Kratis?”

“No,” said Lanmore, with a hint of irritation. “I've been summoned.”

Lee knew better than to ask why. Lee joined Jacob and Fennio for the short meal, then moved the men out again.

“You will no longer eat among the recruits,” said Lanmore. “You shall take your meals with us. If you wish, your nephew can join us as well.”

“He should eat with the men,” said Lee.

Lanmore smirked. “Not wanting to show favor, I see. Or perhaps the two of you aren't close.”

“He is my sister’s son,” said Lee. “I am bound to protect him if I can. But, no. We're not close.”

“It's for the best,” he said dismissively, “gives a lad a chance to make his own mark.”

The first night Lee set his bedroll a few feet away from the soldiers. Captain Lanmore had them set up a small tent where he would bed down, but chose to eat and talk with them for a short while before turning in. Lee could hear the men laughing and talking, and wondered how Jacob was getting on with the others. He shook his head, quietly laughing at himself. He was thinking as if Jacob was still a boy, playing with other children. He wished he could be with him now. He feared soon their time together would end. Lee knew his chance for success was slim, and often on their journey wished he could turn Jacob away...to keep him safe. It no longer mattered that Jacob had betrayed him. Lee had brought that on himself. His thoughts turned to that day with the Oracle, and his anger swelled. He wished he had ignored her. He wished he had stayed with his family.

“Once this is finished, my part is done,” he swore to himself. “The world can end in fire, for all I care.” He would take his family far from this conflict. Even if that meant living in the remote desert.

Over the next few days, Lee kept the men moving at a near unbearable pace. Even the hardened soldiers showed signs of fatigue. They passed dozens of companies of troops marching south.

“War comes,” said Lanmore, offhandedly on one occasion, when they had to make way for five full companies and their supply wagons. “Soon we can march south and leave this icy land behind.”

“When will it begin?” asked Lee.

“Soon, I hope,” Lanmore replied, with a shrug. “I hear there are things to take care of in the west first. But those are matters for kings and diplomats.” He slapped Lee on the shoulder. “We're soldiers, you and I. Our job is to fight and die, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” said Lee. He couldn't help but respect Captain Lanmore. He was a true leader and soldier. Ruthless and harsh, yet educated in the ways of men. Everything he did was calculated. Even the slaying of Lars had a purpose. By then, rumors had been leaked about it, (probably at the direction of Lanmore) and the recruits gave Lee a wide berth and took his orders without question.

By the fifth day, a light snow began to fall. The sky told Lee that it would soon come down in earnest. Normally, this wouldn’t be cause for concern, given how close they were to their destination, but he knew the recruits, with a few exceptions were ill-prepared. If a storm came, many would freeze to death. When Lee brought it to Lanmore's attention, he just laughed.

“The king hadn't allowed a blizzard for years,” said Lanmore.

“Are you suggesting that he controls the weather?” asked Lee, feigning ignorance.

“When you meet him, you'll understand,” Lanmore replied. “He likes to meet all of his new officers, from the grandest general to the lowliest lieutenant.”

“That will be something,” said Lee. The thought of meeting the Dark Knight of Angrääl sent his heart racing. He hoped to be away with his wife and son, long before that happened.

“You have no idea,” said Lanmore. Lee could hear unease in his voice. “To be in his presence is no small matter. You may have seen many battles, and slain many men, but nothing can prepare you for it. The Reborn King possesses the power of the Gods.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “I felt like a naked child. To tell you the truth, I can't even remember where I was or what he looked like...just that overwhelming feeling.” As if catching himself in an awkward state, he cleared his throat and stiffened his back. “In any event, you have some time before you're worthy of such an audience. Now go tend to your duties.

As Captain Lanmore had said, no storm came, though the temperature dropped to a point that even walking at a quick pace did nothing to warm them. On the last night of the march they all huddled so close around the fire that several were singed. The only ones seemingly unaffected, were Lanmore and Lee. Lee had looked in on Jacob, a few times, who had decided to stay close to Fennio and the other men from Darius' guard.

“You deal with the cold well, for a southerner,” remarked Lanmore, as they took their meal.

“I am cold, sir,” said Lee. “But there's no point in complaining. Besides, I have to set an example for the men.”

“Quite right, Barath,” he replied. “Quite right, indeed. You'll do well here. And don't worry. We'll be south soon enough.” Lanmore alluded often to the coming war, but never divulged anything useful. “Thanks to you we're far ahead of schedule. It's a break in protocol, but you will stay with the officers when we arrive tomorrow. I think you'll find it more pleasant than the recruit barracks.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Lee. He stared deep into the camp fire, pleased. Perhaps the officers would have information on his wife. And it would separate him from Jacob. Should things go badly, Jacob would need time to escape.

“If you wish to speak to your nephew,” Lanmore added. “You should do so before we arrive. It's unlikely you'll see him again anytime soon. Officers and soldiers train separately.”

“I'll do that tonight,” Lee replied.

Lee finished his meal then went to seek out Jacob. He found him playing dice and passing around a small flask of brandy with several other recruits at the far end of the encampment. When they saw Lee, they jumped to their feet and stood at attention.

“Jasper, come with me,” Lee commanded.

Jacob nodded and followed Lee away from the camp.

“Did you find out where Mother is?” asked Jacob.

Lee shook his head “Not yet. But I'll be staying in the officer’s barracks when we get there. I hope to find out more then.” He placed his hand on Jacob's shoulder. “If I'm discovered, I intend to bring down hell upon Angrääl before I go. If that happens, run. Keep to the woods. Avoid towns until you are south of the Razor Edge Mountains, then make your way to the Goodbranch and take a riverboat to Sharpstone.” He handed Jacob six gold coins. “Hide these. It's enough to get you to Millet.” he saw a flash of defiance in Jacob's eyes. “There can be no debate. If things go wrong, it won't take them long to come after you. If I fail and they capture you, all is lost. You must survive.”

“I will do as you say,” said Jacob.

“I'm so very sorry,” said Lee, forcing back a tear. “But I'm about to hit you.”

Jacob stepped back. “What?”

“As we speak, Captain Lanmore watches. It must seem as if I don’t care about you. It will keep his attention on me.” Lee clenched his fist. “Are you ready?”

Jacob nodded.

Lee's fist connected with Jacob's jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. He looked down at Jacob, using all his will power not to rush to his side. “You're on your own, boy.” He made sure his voice carried far enough for all to hear, then marched back to his bedroll.

“Didn't go as well as you hoped?” Lanmore, spoke not from amusement but from curiosity.

“It went as expected,” said Lee. “As you said, they have to find their own way.” His heart was aching. He glanced over to see Jacob stumbling back to camp, holding his jaw.

Lee bedded down, trying to slow his mind. Thoughts of punching Jacob mingled with fears of his son being captured, made sleep impossible. At dawn, he mustered the men and had them ready to leave in short order. Every time he came close to where Jacob stood, shame washed over him. But at least hitting him seemed to have the desired effect. Twice as many recruits ate with him during the noon respite, and Lanmore made no mention of him at all.

As the afternoon wore on, Lee noticed more and more buildings and houses, mostly crafted from small gray stones, common to the region, lining the road. There were a few farms here and there, but the fields were barren this time of year. Lee reckoned Angrääl imported most of its food supply up the Goodbranch, from Baltria.

An hour before dusk, the city of Kratis came into view as six massive black spires broke the horizon. Lee saw them very clearly, even though the city walls were still five miles away. Lee stood in awe of the sheer scope of the city. Construction of such magnitude should have taken decades at least, and the skills implemented Lee had believed were only known to the master builders long ago. Not even the ruins of the forgotten kingdoms of old boasted buildings of such height. The city of Kratis had indeed been the seat of power in Angrääl in the distant past, yet Lee had never imagined as much more than a place the size of Hazrah.

Captain Lanmore notice Lee staring at the towers. “We’ll not be going that far. Not just yet.”

“I didn’t know buildings of such scale were still possible,” said Lee, unable to hide that he was impressed.

“Kratis is being rebuilt,” said Lanmore. “In the time of King Rätsterfel, it was the greatest city in the world. The Reborn King has found the secrets of the ancients, or so I’ve been told, and will see it returned to its former glory.”

“So it would seem,” said Lee.

The garrison came into view minutes later, and was nearly an exact copy of the one in Whiterun Pass, only four times the size, and Lee guessed that it housed at least fifteen hundred men. Lanmore halted them at a narrow road leading east just before the fort, and ordered the soldiers to escort the recruits to their barracks. Lee was told they were a mile west of the main garrison. He knew this may present a problem if things went wrong, but there was little he could do about it.

“You will come with me,” said Lanmore. “I need to present you to Lord Pollus, the garrison commander. He's a bit of a pompous ass, but a competent leader. Keep quiet and only speak when spoken to.”

Lee followed Lanmore to the gatehouse. Two guards halted them.

“And you are?” asked the guard.

“You know very well who I am.” Lanmore stepped forward bringing his face an inch from the guards. “Are we to do this again?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he replied, with disdain. “I simply didn’t recognize you.”

The guards smirked then stepped aside and allowed Lanmore to pass, but stepped in Lee's path when he tried to follow.

“He's with me,” said Lanmore. “Allow him to pass.”

“Not until I get word from Lord Pollus...Captain.” The guard stiffened his back. “Until then, he can wait here with us.”

Lanmore glared at the guard, then stalked into the fort. Lee waited silently. The guards didn't seem interested in speaking, and completely ignored him. After ten minutes, the captain returned and shoved a piece of parchment into the guard’s chest. He motioned for Lee to follow.

“They can't stand it when a commoner advances through the ranks,” explained Lanmore, as they passed through the gatehouse. “In their mind, only a lord should command.”

Lee cracked a smile. “In my experience, if only lords commanded, it would take a year to march an army ten miles.”

Lanmore threw his head back in laughter. “I wouldn't repeat that in the officers’ barracks. Especially round those bloody Baltrian fools. Most will run straight to Lord Pollus, to try and curry favor. And frankly, he isn't known for his humor.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Hearing that Baltrian lords would be near did not ease Lee's mind. He hoped that they were too young to recognize him.

The main yard was filled with soldiers drilling and marching. About three-hundred men in all. The barracks were as high as the curtain wall, with two catapults placed on each of the flat roofs. The keep was much larger than in the other fort as well, standing two stories high and covered with arrow slits capable of raining down terror inside the parade yard, should the walls be breached. The clash of metal, stomping of boots and shouting of orders roared through the air. Lee marveled that the sound did not carry outside the fort, or even through the gatehouse. The design must have held its own secrets. Even the catapults appeared sophisticated compare to others he'd seen. He saw only a single hand crank, and a long metal tube placed just above the arm. Lee guessed that it held the shot. If a single soldier could operate it, instead of the usual four, it would be a devastating weapon. A lone platoon could wreak havoc.

The door to the keep was unguarded, and still, Lanmore paused and took a deep breath. He flung open the door and Lee followed him in. The gray stone floor and walls were lined with weapon racks and maps. To his left, were three rows of long tables, with a door at the far corner, leading to the kitchens. To his right where he expected there to be an officers’ lounging area, were dozens of desks and small tables. Cotton and linen clad bureaucrats were busy at their duties, not bothering to look up as Lee and Captain Lanmore passed by.

“Welcome to the heart of the kingdom,” joked Lanmore.

“This is where we take our meals?” asked Lee.

Lanmore shook his head, chuckling softly. “No. I'm afraid the keep is reserved for the commander and these fine fellows. We take our meals in the barracks.”

They entered a door directly ahead that led to a long hall, ending in a flight of stairs leading upward, then left, to the second level. At the top, the hall split off in two directions, each with several doors along the walls.

“The bureaucrats stay in these rooms,” said Lanmore. “They’re quite comfortable compared to our quarters.”

“A soldier has no need of comfort,” said Lee.

They turned left for several yards, then right, until they reached an elaborately carved mahogany door, with a polished silver carving of broken scales, the sigil of Angrääl attached in the center. Lee fought back the urge to smash it to pieces. Captain Lanmore knocked firmly, then pushed the door open.

Inside was a room with a large oak desk at the far end and a round table on which rested various maps and charts in the center. A long rope hung from a small hole in the ceiling just behind the desk. To his right, a plush, tan suede couch and four matching chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, each with a small brass end table and facing a hearth that burned brightly. Three polished brass lanterns hung from the ceiling center, and two more protruded from each wall at ten-foot intervals. Behind the desk hung a mural depicting a gleaming champion on horseback, leading a charge against an elf army. Between the lanterns stood an oak bookcase that held beautifully leather-bound tomes along with a crystal decanter and glasses.

A man sat behind the desk dressed in a fine white shirt and a red jacket. His salt and pepper hair was oiled and combed back in regal fashion. His tan skin gleamed in the bright light, offsetting his fragile build and narrow features.

“Ah, Captain Lanmore,” said the Commander. His voice was tinny and a bit feminine. “I see you have arrived ahead of schedule. And with a new officer.”

Lanmore bowed his head sharply. “Yes, Commander. The message said to come with all speed.”

“Indeed, it did,” said Lord Pollus. “And yet you chose to travel with the recruits, rather than on horseback.” He rose to his feet. Though thin, he was quite tall – as tall as Lee – and walked with the effortless grace of a true noble. He sighed. “I suppose there is nothing to be done.” He took notice of Lee, and looked him up and down. “And you are?”

“I am Barath, my lord,” said Lee, bowing as Lanmore had done.

“Just Barath?” Pollus shook his head and frowned. “Yet another commoner.” He turned and went back to his deck. “I suppose if Captain Lanmore deems you worthy, you will do.” His eyes fell on the captain. “He is your responsibility and under your command. And please...if you don't have a last name...choose one. People will think you’re one of these native Angrääl barbarians our gracious King has scattered among our ranks. Dreadful people.”

“You will be pleased to know that Barath fought one before we set out,” said Lanmore.

Pollus raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? And you survived. Impressive.”

“He did more than survive,” said Lanmore, puffing out his chest. “He defeated him as if fighting a child.”

“Impressive, indeed.” Lord Pollus opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled something on it. He blew the ink dry, then pushed it across the desk. “This is your commission...Barath. If for no other reason that ridding the world of an uncouth beast, I am happy to give it. I left enough room for you to put a proper name.”

Lee took the parchment, and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

Lord Pollus reached back and pulled the rope. A moment later a thin, blond boy in a dark blue tunic and trousers scurried in.

“Show this man downstairs,” Pollus ordered. “He is to be given a commission under Captain Lanmore.” He waved off the boy, dismissively. “As for you, captain, I will speak with you now.”

He looked sideways at Lee. “I will join you as soon as I can.” He then turned to the boy. “If I am not down in time, show him to the barracks when he's done.”

Lee bowed one last time and followed the boy downstairs. He was shown to a desk where a scrawny wraith of a man was busy scribbling on one of the many pieces of parchment piled high on his desk. Lee handed the man his commission.

The man didn't look up but only opened the parchment and began writing notes. “What is your surname?”

“Drakis,” Lee replied. Drakis was the name of a fiend in a story he heard as a child. He almost smirked at the thought, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time.

“You have an odd sense of humor,” the man said off-handedly. “And before you ask, I know that tale as well. All men of the north do.”

Lee sat quietly as the man spent the next half hour writing, checking and double-checking, each note. Finally, he handed Lee a small round wooden token with the number one painted on either side.

“Give this to the quartermaster,” He straightened the pile of papers on his desk. “He’ll give you what equipment you’ll need.”

Lee stood up and turned to the door. The blond boy was standing just behind him, waiting patiently. Half way to the barracks, Captain Lanmore caught up with them.

“I'll take it from here, boy,” said Lanmore. Without a word the boy ran back to the keep. “Did you pick a name?”

“I'll be known as Barath Drakis,” Lee replied.

“A dire name to be sure,” he said with obvious approval.

“Will it be possible to see my nephew?” asked Lee.

“I thought you weren't close,” said Lanmore. “In fact, if I recall you nearly took his head off the last time you spoke.”

“I would not have it end as such between us,” Lee explained. “Though I have no great affection for him, he is my sister's child.”

Lanmore nodded. “I'll see what I can do. Until then, we need to get you settled in. We'll be here for three weeks.”

“A short time for training,” said Lee.

“Pollus likes you,” said Lanmore. “Mostly because you killed Lars. But I assured him that you understood military discipline, and also that I would train you, personally.” He stopped and faced Lee. “Do not disappoint me, Barath Drakis.”

“I will not,” said Lee. A tinge of guilt struck him. He knew that he would soon betray the captain’s trust. And even though he was the enemy, he was beginning to respect him.

“Good.” He slapped Lee on the back. “I enjoy having officers without the arrogance of nobility draped about their shoulders.”

The barracks was no more than a two-story warehouse, with dozens and dozens of three-man bunks lining the walls and a series of long tables and benches in the center. A brazier, filled with hot coals had been placed between the tables on either side of the entrance. A crude flight of wooden spiral stairs stood dead center. Only a few dozen men were scattered about. Some sleeping, others playing cards and dice at the tables, and a few reading over paperwork or going over maps. All took notice as they entered, but none spoke.

“Officers of the Reborn King live the same as the common soldier,” said Lanmore as they entered. “We're lucky to have arrived when we did. The day watch is on duty now, so we'll not have to spend the next hour on introductions. The night watch are mostly commoners like us. They don't care much about who comes and goes.” He walked toward the stairs. “We'll be bunking on the second floor.”

The upper floor was much like the lower, except along the far left wall, several casks of ale were neatly stacked three high. Lanmore removed his pack and threw it on an empty bed, and motioned for Lee to do the same. He then escorted him back outside around the side of the keep to the quartermasters. In exchange for the wooden token, he was given his tunic embroidered with the sigil of Angrääl and on the sleeves one red star, signifying his rank as lieutenant, and studded leather armor. Lee was offered a sword, but told the quartermaster that he would use his own; the quartermaster looked down at it and nodded approvingly. A large, burlap bundle containing an officer’s coat, boots and trousers were the final items to complete his transformation into officer.

“Anything else you have to buy on your own,” said the quartermaster, grumpily. “There are smiths and armorers in Kratis who can outfit you, if you want something sturdier than plain leather. If you need your sword tended, I’d go there. I don’t trust the garrison smithy.”

Lee thanked the man and left.

It was nearly full dark by the time they returned to the barracks, and the day watch was beginning to file in. All took notice of Lee and Lanmore, and immediately hissing whispers could be heard throughout the room. Servants were busy readying the table for the evening meal.

“We needn't bother with this lot tonight, unless you want to,” said Lanmore. “I intend to take my meal in the bunk, then get a good night’s sleep.”

Lee knew he should at least try to gather information, but felt it may be better to speak with Lanmore in a more relaxed setting. “I think I will do the same.”

Lanmore called over a servant and instructed him to have their meals brought up. The meal was a simple beef stew and salted bread, along with a cup of sweet wine. As simple as it was, Lee was grateful for it. After a servant retrieved their plates and cups, Lee stripped off his clothing, and changed into a pair of heavy cotton pants, and thick wool socks. He felt his muscles relax as he eased into his bunk, and had to fight to stay awake.

“May I asked you a question, sir?” Lee rolled over so he could see Lanmore.

“Ask,” he replied, yawning.

“How did you end up in the service of the Reborn King?”

Lanmore smiled and slid down beneath his blanket. “I was captain of the Kaltinor city guard, once. I was accused of theft and treason by the city temples, and forced to flee or face execution.” He laughed softly “I journeyed north to Hazrah and caught word that Angrääl was seeking soldiers. I heard that a man could remake himself here, no matter what burdens his past carried. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so off I went. The funny thing is, as it turned out, it was Angrääl that controlled the temples in Kaltinor, and probably gave the order to have me accused.”

“If you know this why not return?”

Lanmore closed his eyes “I have pledged my fealty to the Reborn King. I couldn't return even if I wished. You'll understand when you're in his presence. When that happens there's no turning back...ever.” He drifted off into a deep sleep.





***





Lee awoke abruptly a short time later, and instinctively reached for his sword.

“Don't move!” yelled a harsh voice.

He looked up to see five soldiers, all pointing crossbows at him. He raised his hands.

“What is the meaning of this?” roared Captain Lanmore. “Answer me at once!”

From the stairs, Lord Pollus strode toward them, glaring at the captain. “It would seem, my dear captain, you have brought a spy with you.” His gaze fell on Lee. “Don't bother with denials...Lord Nal'Thain.”

Lanmore leaped from his bunk. “Barath?”

Lee's eyes never left Lord Pollus. “How did you find me out?”

Pollus laughed. “Your son, my lord. How else?”