Richard Parker - Elsewhere

“Yield and no more harm will come to you…your wounded will be attended,” said the voice and after a brief moment Hothgaard felt his beating heart slowly calm in his chest. He rode forward away from his confused and disheartened men; most of those around him were unbloodied and had in fact killed no one. For them, as well as for their commander, the battle seemed unreal, not like any other engagement in memory. How was it possible to lose a battle while so many were without wounds, or to be victorious without drawing blood?

“Who speaks?” Hothgaard asked, feeling strangely cool now that the specter of defeat was accepted.

A young man moved out of the crowd and through the forest of spear points. As he cleared his men, Hothgaard found that he recognized him…or rather the likeness of him. The Captain knew without a doubt that this was the son of King Arnot of Massi…this was Gwaynn Massi.

“I am Gwaynn Massi,” the young man confirmed. “And I give you my word that if you yield no more blood need be spilled in this war.”

Captain Hothgaard looked down at the tall, straight-backed young man and actually smiled. He was tired of war…the Massi had won and for some reason the fact of defeat did not cause as much pain as he feared it might. Suddenly he was smiling and he actually chuckled at the thought. In truth, he had never considered defeat…at least not until he arrived on the shores of Massi.

“We will yield Prince Gwaynn Massi,” Hothgaard answered.

“King Gwaynn!” A lone shout came out of the crowd. There was a moment’s pause and then thousands repeated the call. “King Gwaynn! King Gwaynn! King Gwaynn!” The call went on and on and on before finally dying out.

“Very well,” Hothgaard said with a bow of his head, “King Gwaynn,” he conceded and unceremoniously threw down his lance. After a moment’s hesitation the Knights around him did likewise and the final battle, which had gone on for a little less than an hour, was abruptly and decisively over.

Captain Hothgaard dismounted and walked slowly to Gwaynn, when he was close he slowly drew his sword and rested it on his upturned palms.

“My sword,” he yelled for all his men to hear. Gwaynn nodded and then slowly reached out and took the hilt and pulled it up and away from his enemy…now suddenly his prisoner. He thrust the sword up into the air and instantly the army around him shouted their relief and joy to the sky.

“You are?” Gwaynn asked as the din slowly subsided.

“Captain Hothgaard of the Temple Knights,” he answered solemnly. Gwaynn gave a curt nod indicating that he had heard of the leader of the Knights.

“Follow me,” Gwaynn commanded. “Bring your horse,” he added and the two made their way through the living and the dead. Hothgaard was cheered by the fact that though a great many of his Knights were a foot, they were alive. However there were many that lie dead in his path…including Captain Tramm, whose eyes were wide in death, the back of his head cracked open like an egg.

Hothgaard stared at his former friend and comrade, but once he was passed he began to turn his mind to those who were still alive. Defeat was a new experience for him and he was unsure how to handle it.

“My men?” he asked the young man walking beside him.

“Will be treated well…as long as they present no resistance.

“Is the High King truly dead?” Hothgaard asked as other men and women joined in their march from the battlefield, some of those around him the Captain recognized as Tars from the Island of Noble.

“He is truly,” Gwaynn answered finally breaking from the rear lines of the Massi army. They were moving slightly uphill toward a group of men who were overlooking the battle. Somehow Hothgaard had always assumed Pr…King Gwaynn would be among the men controlling the battle, the fact that he was in the very midst of the fighting raised his estimation of the youth dramatically.

“Dead…” Hothgaard repeated mostly to himself.

“He is, and now you must decide where your future loyalties will lie,” an older man to his right said. The man was wearing the colors of Noble and after a moment Hothgaard recognized him.

“High Tar Kostek?”

The man nodded but said nothing more, leaving Hothgaard to ponder his words.

‘And where do my loyalties lie,’ the Captain wondered, ‘with Prince Nigel? He was the logical choice…but was it the wise choice. Prince Nigel was the eldest but he only cared for his music…but perhaps that was not such a bad thing. These broken lands could use a little music, a little dancing. Queen Audra would surely challenge such a decision and prop her own Aiden up as successor. It could get messy indeed. The Knights were the authority behind the High Family and they were beaten, therefore the High Family was beaten. He would have to think on who would succeed High King Caiman Mastoc.’

“Captain Hothgaard, this is General Lonogan Bock,” Gwaynn said and Hothgaard bowed low.

“I’m honored,” the Captain said meaning it, if this was the man who had come up with the strategy used against them.

“As am I,” Lonogan answered with a nod and a slight smile. “If you are alive and in the company of my King, can I assume that the war is now over?”

Hothgaard considered the point for the briefest moment then with realization said. “I guess it is,” and gave his own slight smile.

‘The war is over…the High King is dead,’ he thought then as the rest of the group mounted up Captain Hothgaard wondered just what was in store for the lands of the Inland Sea.

ǂ

Three weeks later the Temple Knights were still adjusting to the idea of defeat and Gwaynn Massi was making the slow transformation from warlord to domestic leader, ruling over a now peaceful nation. The transformation was not always smooth or painless, but with each passing day, life without war and bloodshed was starting to feel almost normal. And all the while, Samantha was growing larger as her time drew near.

“You look tired,” Gwaynn said moving to help her from the chair but she just waved him away, determined to push herself up. She eventually did so but Gwaynn noticed that her belly left the chair well before the rest of her.

“I am tired,” Samantha snapped then smiled. “I can’t sleep,” she added in a much softer tone. “I can’t lie on my belly anymore…or my back…or my side…I just can’t sleep.”

“It will be over soon,” Gwaynn encouraged her.

“Surgeon Knote says two or three more weeks,” she snapped again as Gwaynn watched her waddle over to the pitcher of water. He sat up in bed, naked to the waist and looked over at his soon to be queen. They were to be united in three days…Tar Kostek doing the honors. She was big…his son was going to be big.

“At least you’ll be a queen soon,” he commented trying to cheer her, and she did turn and smile. Once again he saw the girl he loved in her eyes and face.

“The largest queen in all the land,” she said playfully.

“The largest queen, bearing the largest prince.”

“Princess!” Samantha insisted.

Before Gwaynn could answer there was a knock at the door. Gwaynn glanced at Samantha briefly. It was early…too early for a social visit.

“Come,” Gwaynn finally said, then stood and pulled on his pants.

Lonogan Bock opened the door and stuck his head in. “Good Morn,” he said then spotted Samantha, “M’lady,” he added.

“Prince Phillip is ranting again. He went to see King Weldon early this morning and now he’s upset.”

Gwaynn sighed. Prince Phillip Toranado was becoming obsessed with the Palmerrio King and insisted on several occasions that the man be placed under his authority. Phillip wanted the Palmerrio King taken back to Eno to stand trial…and most likely hung.