Roger Taylor: Arash-Felloren

In the few seconds which it took Barran to reach this conclusion, the new arrivals were seen, first by the children, and then the women. The children jumped up and ran to their mothers who ushered them back to the hut. Barran could see that the women were alarmed but not terrified. That was good.

A further look at the newcomers told him that they were little more than street ruffians. Nasty and brutal, but no match for a professional soldier. Still, he had no desire to defend himself against five opponents, particularly in his present condition.

‘Stay where you are!’ The command froze the children, but the speaker still chose to emphasize it by purposefully smacking his staff into the palm of his hand.

‘There’s no need to frighten the children, Fiarn,’ Ellyn said, a hint of anger creeping through her sullen manner.

‘It’s as well they don’t disturb your menfolk at their work, isn’t it, Ellyn?’ the man replied. He walked unhurriedly towards the woman. The others followed. ‘You know how… concerned… they become when they have to pay the Landgeld.’

The woman bared her teeth as if to say something, but thought better of it. Instead she lowered her head to avoid looking at him. ‘We’ve nothing for you. It’s been bad lately – poor quality crystals and few of them at that.’

Fiarn nodded, full of mocking concern. ‘Normally there’s nothing I like better than listening to your tales, Ellyn. You’ve such an entertaining imagination. Not quite as slow as most around here – yet. But it’s been a tiring day – there’ve been so many buyers about recently that, as you see, I’m actually having to do some of the collecting myself.’ He took hold of her chin and forced her head round towards Barran. Barran made no response but remained sitting, carefully maintaining an expression of indifference. ‘And things can’t be too bad if you’ve taken on a worker, can they?’

The woman jerked her head free. ‘He’s just a traveller – got an injured leg – he’s bound to us for a month, that’s all. We’ll be lucky if he digs enough to cover his food.’

Fiarn’s expression became one of impatience and he pushed her to one side. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘Just get the money and don’t waste any more of my time.’ He walked towards Barran. The woman stared after him for a moment, then turned to go into the hut. ‘And remember, don’t go shouting for your men. You know what happened last time.’ Fiarn raised his staff warningly.

As he drew nearer, Barran took his hand from his staff but made no effort to stand. If need arose he could do the man greater damage, more quickly, from this position than standing face to face. Fiarn was taller and heavier than he was, though he doubted he was as strong. And he could see a hint of that slowness about him that pervaded the miners. Everything about him confirmed street fighter rather than soldier, but Barran still needed to know a great deal more about what was happening here before interfering. He would have to hold his tongue and await events. Act slow and stupid.

He allowed himself to look confused as he met the man’s gaze.

‘What’s your name, traveller?’ Fiarn asked, towering over him.

‘Barran, sir.’

‘What are you doing in the Thlosgaral, Barran?’

‘Came here by chance, sir. Thought it might be a short-cut. I’m not from round here. I was looking for work. I’m a farm labourer by trade, but these good people helped me when I lost my horse.’ He became earnest. ‘You haven’t seen a horse wandering about loose, have you, sir? He’s a…’

Fiarn raised a hand to silence him and then stared into his wilfully vacant eyes for a moment in amused disbelief. ‘It’s either sold or eaten by now… farmer,’ he said, scornfully emphasizing the last word. Ellyn came out of the hut. She had a small pouch in her hand. Fiarn glanced from Barran to the purse and back again, then abandoned his interrogation and, shaking his head, turned back to Ellyn. ‘Have we seen a horse! Not often you come across someone even stupider than a miner,’ he announced, for everyone’s benefit. His men laughed. Snatching the pouch from the waiting woman, he took a handful of coins from it and dropped the rest on the ground.

‘Just have it ready for me in future,’ he said grimly, holding a fist in front of her face. ‘I know how much you get and I’ve had enough of these games.’ Suddenly he was angry. ‘You people have no gratitude for anything. You owe for the equipment, the right to dig here, and for protection from the robbers who haunt this place. Robbers who wouldn’t hesitate to slit your throats while you slept… children and all. Don’t forget it. Do you understand? Explain it to your husband very slowly when he gets back. He doesn’t seem to have grasped his position fully yet and I don’t want him coming round causing problems again. He was lucky not to have been more badly hurt than he was.’

They were gone.

Ellyn crouched down and picked up the money then silently returned to her work. Barran watched the three women for a while before he started working again. So many thoughts filled his head that he felt as though he was cutting through dense undergrowth in search of a clear path that lay nearby.

Slowly it emerged. These people had a valuable resource which they bargained away more foolishly than children. Then they allowed themselves to be robbed in silence. There was money to be made here. All that was needed was a little more information so that a plan could be formed. Then a little determination – a characteristic Barran had in great measure. That, and other less commendable traits.

For as long as he could remember, he had earned his living by fighting for other people. Through the years, all manner of lords and dukes and petty princes had employed him and his kind when their greed, intransigence, or just plain folly, had transformed a dispute of words into a dispute of swords. Without fail they had all claimed to be injured parties fighting for natural justice against treacherous enemies, though Barran could scarcely recall a time when he might have been inclined to believe such protestations. Fighting first for one side and then the other as his commander of the moment negotiated better terms was a common occurrence.

One thing Barran did remember from the earliest days was that, on the whole, he was brighter than most of his companions and, fortunately for his continued well-being, bright enough to keep such knowledge to himself. And two things he soon learned. One was that while fighting and pillaging might satisfy certain needs within him, the money and power that he craved was to be found not by those who fought but by those who commanded their services. The other was that – like the merchant – those who had to buy the swords of others for their protection invariably became hostage to them. He had resolved long ago to profit from the first and avoid the hazards of the second.

Thus, he had worked diligently at the art of soldiering. He had a particular aptitude for the darker side of that art, for he could be vicious and cruel, delighting in hurting others, sometimes even where no gain was apparent – and the adulation and acclaim that that had brought him soon taught him the fundamentals of true leadership.

Eventually he came to have his own band of mercenaries and for a while it prospered. But despite his clear-eyed schemes and his savage bravery, slowly but inexorably the wild vagaries of combat took away trusted friends and battle-hardened allies alike, and left him approaching the middle of his life with no more wealth than he had once set out with, but many more scars, both inward and outward, and an increasingly desperate view of what lay ahead.

Yet it was all he knew and he could but follow the call to arms wherever he heard it.