G. Kelly - Sword and Circle

“I have never heard you say such a thing, my friend! Elve’s Blood and Dwarfspit, what could possibly strike such fear into the heart of the Longsword warrior who braved the Teeth and Morloch himself?”

Gawain drew in a deep breath, took another gulp of ale, and when he put down his tankard and looked at the wizard, it was with a blank expression of kingly self-control in his steel-grey eyes.

“You saw how our frustration and anger nearly consumed us when it was twinned on the border with Juria. My heart was shattered by the visions of my homeland which greeted me a year ago and those visions haunt me still. Do you think I could bear such heartbreak again if it be twinned and magnified by throth, and Elayeen’s sorrow for me and my people?”

Understanding at last, Allazar reached across the table to grasp Gawain’s forearm. “I shall write the note advising your lady to await us here, Longsword, if you wish. It may seem less… personal, if I choose my words wisely.”

“Thank you, Allazar. I would be glad if you did. Though I will append some words of my own I think.”

“Good idea,” the wizard agreed, “Even if it’s only three of them.”

After the meal, Allazar went off in search of paper, pen and ink, and Gawain tended to the horses. Gwyn was unsettled, and Gawain knew why. So close to home, yet there was no home awaiting them atop the Pass. Once he’d reassured her, he set about acquiring the supplies they would need for their brief stay at the ruined Keep of Raheen. Food for themselves was of course frak, and Gawain could easily imagine the wizard’s dismay at that after such hearty fare at the inn. Food for the horses was oats, and nose-bags were found in the abandoned stables. Water was the heaviest and most essential item, and Gawain took care to fill more water skins than would strictly be necessary, remembering with a sudden shudder the vile brown-white ooze that had been the Styris at the Farin Bridge.

Later, as dusk approached and found them dressed once again in their own fresh-laundered clothes, Allazar handed Gawain the letter he had written for Elayeen.

Gawain nodded approvingly, sitting at the table they had shared at lunch earlier. “I’ll give you whitebeards one thing, you know how to use a hundred words when ten will do.”

Allazar smiled sadly. “I hope she will understand. I have tried to stress the pains of throth without overegging the cake, while at the same time reassuring her.”

“It’s a good letter, Allazar.” Gawain said softly, and appreciatively. He took the pen Allazar offered him, and the wizard left him writing at the table and crossed to the bar to fill their tankards with ale.

Captain Tyrane strode in through the open doors, and seeing Gawain busy with a document, moved immediately to Allazar.

“Serre, there’s been no report from the lookouts of any traffic on the road to Jarn, and my scouts have reported the road clear for at least two hours north of the bend.”

Allazar nodded sadly. “Thank you, Captain. I fear his Majesty’s lady will likely not arrive until tomorrow morning, by which time we will have departed.”

The scrape of a chair drew their attention and Gawain approached them, the letter to Elayeen sealed in his hand. “I would be obliged, Captain, if you would give this to my lady Elayeen when she arrives tomorrow.”

Tyrane took the letter and bowed. “From your hand to mine, and from mine to hers, so shall it be.”

“Thank you, Captain. I know not what other orders King Brock may have given you, but I would be glad if you and your men would provide protection to both my lady and the Pass a while longer, at least until the wizard and I return. I don’t expect we’ll be more than two days.”

“My orders were to hold the Pass for your arrival, my lord. Beyond that, I’m sure my King would expect one of his captains to exercise his initiative in the best interests of Callodon. We’ll hold the Pass, and keep your lady safe, until Callodon himself orders otherwise. And if I may say so, my lord, I don’t think any of his pigeons know the way here.”

Gawain smiled. “Thank you. King Brock seems to have a knack for finding honourable men for his guard.”

Tyrane straightened his back, and his eyes gleamed. “I’d be obliged if you wouldn’t mention that to the lads, my lord. Only I’ve just recently convinced them that this duty was by way of a punishment for slovenly appearance and failing to maintain their weapons and drills. Be a shame for them to start backsliding now.”

“My lips are sealed, Captain.”

With a bow, and then a polite nod to Allazar, the Captain took his leave.

Gawain and Allazar returned to the table with their ale, absent-mindedly picking at half a loaf of bread on the table between them while shadows lengthened, and lamps were lit. After a long silence broken only by the occasional squawking of gulls to south and men outside moving with quiet purpose from time to time, Gawain sighed.

“Longsword?”

“I believe my lady has retired for the night. Probably plans an early start in the morning.”

“Ah.”

“Well. It’s a not a bad idea. We should do the same. Our supplies are in order, we are well-fed, and so are our horses. Tomorrow, Allazar, an hour before dawn, we ascend the Pass to Raheen.”

“Then goodnight, Longsword. Sleep well.”

“I doubt it.” Gawain said softly, and headed for his room. And was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

An hour before dawn, and the outpost at the foot of the Downland Pass was filled with quiet determination and men moving purposefully but without haste about their duties. Gawain checked the supplies of water on their pack-horse for a final time, and then cast an inquisitive glance at Allazar. The wizard simply nodded, his face inscrutable in the pre-dawn iron-grey light. Satisfied, Gawain strode briskly to the outpost commander, who was standing in what was apparently his customary position by the wells.

“Good Morning, my lord,” Captain Tyrane announced quietly.

“Good Morning, Captain. Your men seem unusually busy for such an early hour?”

“Aye. Before your arrival we felt no need of unusual precautions. Our counterparts in Jarn hold the north end of the road, and the Westguard are ever watchful at the borders with the old kingdom, Pellarn. But today you ascend the Pass.”

Tyrane paused, and suddenly seemed a trifle uncomfortable. “My lord, we all know the stories of what awaits you there at the summit. Before your arrival our task was to hold the Pass closed against any who would deny it to you. Once you begin your ascent, it falls to us to hold it open for your return, and I’m re-deploying my forces accordingly.”

Gawain nodded approvingly, appreciating the subtle differences Tyrane had made to his defences. The Captain, like Elayeen and Allazar, clearly wasn’t expecting an army of Morlochmen to fall upon them. But, knowing friends of Callodon were about to make the long climb to the ruin above and could survive there only as long as their packs allowed, the commander was clearly making his preparations as though such an army had already been sighted.

“Thank you, Captain. I don’t imagine we’ll be more than a day or two, though we’ve water enough for ourselves and our horses for three if we’re careful. I appreciate knowing we have a strong rearguard to cover any eventualities.”

“They’re good men, my lord, you needn’t worry about them, nor about your lady when she and her escort arrive. I have the letter here and will deliver it as soon as she arrives,” Tyrane tapped his tunic, where the letter was tucked in an inside pocket over his left breast.

“Then there’s nothing more to be done, the wizard and I shall head up. Honour to you, Captain Tyrane, and to Callodon.”