The Altruis Duad

By Geg

Thrust from their land many years ago and finding this haven they called Sperratraze the people believed they were safe.

But that same enemy had followed them, through the very earth it seemed! Yet after numerous attacks and many setbacks Castle Altruis had survived.

That day of salvation had been celebrated each year since then; but today was special, being its twentieth anniversary and the people made preparation for the festivities.

To the North West something was not quite right; a schism of sorts.

The Edac Lord looked out from the Twin Peaks and was at one.

The time is now He said. Set them free!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781479700974

Geg

Neale Stephen McGrath was born in Harrogate, Yorkshire. Hi s father, whose name was Gerald, brought him up from the age of two and, therefore, the pseudonym ‘Geg’ was adopted in his honour. His education was sparse to say the least but when he attended drama school he educated himself and learnt to love the arts, particularly Shakespeare. He realised an overwhelming desire to write and so made notes for the novel which became ‘The Altruis Duad’ thirty years later. He continues to hone his skill whilst writing the sequel and prequel. He lives now in Birmingham, England, has three children and is a Theatre Director and Actor.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by GEG.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013902185

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4797-0096-7

Softcover 978-1-4797-0095-0

Ebook 978-1-4797-0097-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing

from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to

any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

For Gerald Leo

I hope you would be proud

Though you were ‘the least best with the gloves on’ Dad, You had a love so strong that it shone like a beacon

Sleep well Geg

Thanks

A debt of gratitude is owed to:

Steve, Neil, Marcus, Craig and John.

To Jackie for mighty Ulf.

To my old mate Cyolyin for the seed that became Pssst.

To Chris for the enigma.

And to all my friends who read this and gave honest opinions.

Volume I

Invasion

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Prologue

Kreall loped alongside his chieftain as they approached the silent town in the dim moonlight. They stopped on the outskirts, the rest of the small band coming silently to a halt as their leader surveyed the large human community spread out before them, detached and alone on the undulating plains of Sperratraze.

Seconds later they were sprinting forward in tight formation, heading for one particular house; one of many which stood on the perimeter. They halted only feet from its walls and the chieftain crept forward to look through the uncurtained window. He immediately pulled back, teeth bared in an incongruous smile as he silently gestured. Only now did the first guttural sounds issue from their mouths as, instantly, his band of followers leapt into action, leaving the chieftain and Kreall alone by the window.

Doors and windows were caved in and smashed as the rampaging group went about their task with relish. Men and women, children and babies were dragged from their slumber and ripped apart by these small, strong-limbed creatures. Embers from dying fires were rekindled anew and thrust into the bedclothes of shocked, semi-awake families, soon erupting into a blaze, adding only more chaos and confusion to the once sleeping town.

Kreall now leapt through the window, covering the sleeping boy in shattered glass, the youngster screaming uncontrollably as he was dragged from his pleasant dream into this hideous waking nightmare.

Kreall held back his natural desire to rip and tear at the lad’s flesh but, instead, he dragged him up to the window where his chieftain stood, teeth still bared and eyes ablaze.

The door suddenly flew open and a woman ran in, fear for her boy written across her face. She stopped for only a moment, taking in this awful, unbelievable sight and then threw herself forward, love of her child overcoming her fear of these unknown beasts.

Kreall sprang at her, bearing her instantly to the ground as his jagged teeth bit through the flimsy night garment, ripping soft flesh from her body. She screamed in agony until Kreall bit savagely into her throat.

The boy was being dragged through the window until his side caught on a jagged shard of glass. His tender flesh ripped, just as he caught a glimpse of his mother on the ground, blood pumping from two points. He snatched a breath.

Kreall now stood as the boy’s father ran in, wielding a sword in his obviously inexperienced hand. He thrust at the dark creature but missed, then paid for his inability as he too died from Kreall’s savage, unforgiving attack.

It’s a dream, the boy said continually to himself as he was dragged across the plains, and the first glimmers of daylight reached out over the rooftops of the devastated town.

Chapter 1

Anniversary

The dawn broke beautifully over Ernie Snoddlegrass’s large paunch; its brightness roused him from his slumber but still he lay there, watching the sun rise whilst listening to his wife’s steady breathing and occasional passing of wind.

Yes, it certainly was going to be a lovely day. The sun was shining and it threatened to continue like that for some time; but this wasn’t the reason for Ernie’s happiness, oh no!

Ernie was the proud owner of The Edac Slake, which was renowned as the best inn in Sperratraze, and the only one in Castle Altruis proper. Ernie was looking forward to the vast profits to be made from the folk who would come to the Castle for the celebrations.

They took place every year, but Ernie knew this year would be special as today marked the twentieth anniversary of the end of the Year-Long War. He licked his lips, his wife belched and the sun rose a little higher as he hugged himself at thoughts of his profits whilst mulling over the unpleasant idea of getting out of bed. He heard noises from the room next door.

His two daughters, Twinkle his little star and Sugar his little dumpling, had been awake for at least an hour as the dawn came that much earlier for them, not having a large blubbery stomach to delay it. They had been leaning over the balcony and watching the entire goings-on of people who lived in the Castle and those from the villages who were visiting for the day, of which there were many even at this early hour. They had just waved at Martin the blacksmith who was helping to build a raised stage next to his stables for the multitude of acts that would be performed throughout the day. Martin waved back and then swung his hammer down towards a nail but missed, hitting the wood with a resounding thwack. He instantly leapt into the air, holding his thumb as if in pain and hopping around on one leg.

The girls liked Martin as he made them laugh, but they now looked at each other a little perplexed as they had both seen him hit the wood and not his thumb, and why was he hopping? But having no time for serious thoughts, especially on this glorious day, they laughed at him just a little too loudly.

Aye Aye, the little perishers are awake then. Ernie turned his head to look at the door that separated him from his two little darlings. I’ll give it another minute, he thought drowsily whilst scratching his leg through the tent-like bed gown he wore.

Sybil, his wife, turned over on to her side dreaming of the slim, handsome, youthful warrior she always dreamt of and thereby let go of another bodily function.

Ernie, hearing this latest emission and perceiving its aim, considered his minute might possibly be up and rolled out of bed, somehow managing to get his feet to the floor before the rest of his immense bulk. He stood up and immediately sat down again as he waited for the stars to leave his eyes. I really must cut down on the beer, he thought as, slowly, he stood up again to find the stars had almost gone. He yawned, then stretched until he was on tiptoe, his bones clicking and cracking like kindling being prepared for a fire. He then tiptoed across the room – he had very strong toes – and put his smiling face, ear first, to the door whilst blocking the other with his forefinger. Sybil sighed, just by way of a change, as the warrior took her in his arms; then she blew off!

The girls clapped hands over their mouths, forcing back the mirth. They looked at each other then glanced quickly at the door, knowing only too well what that familiar clicking sound signified. They scrambled behind Twinkle’s bed, stifling giggles as the door opened and the father they both loved and adored crept in, being preceded quite significantly by his marquee-shrouded stomach.

Still on tiptoe and smiling like a lunatic, Ernie came into the room as a giggle escaped Sugar’s hands. Hearing this, Ernie and his barrel-like belly bounded over to the window, the paunchy publican shouting Boo! as loud as he could. The house shook!

They both leapt up and threw their arms around his podgy neck amidst a chorus of greetings, neither one of them saying anything about Daddy’s pongy early morning smell as they knew it was daddy’s flatulence; mummy had told them!

But it didn’t matter anyway because they loved him. Besides, it was a special day today. In fact, today was the best day of the year; it was anniversary day.

The ground floor of the Keep was also a hive of activity, the Great Hall especially. All the protectors, being up at this early hour and grumbling because of it, were cleaning weapons and boots and anything else that constituted best dress. Their role today, instead of patrolling the outlying districts, was to be one of show, being on parade as it were for the people of Sperratraze to look at, ponder over and admire.

Do yer want yer brecky yet Me Lord? It’ll go cold if yer don’t be quick yer know! Gudjen the cook semi-bellowed this message across the room to Lea Hunter, obviously very agitated at having to keep brecky in abeyance. I’ve yet to do Lord Sebla’s and ’is warfe’s, and I’ve got but one pair yer know! She referred to her hands which she now placed on a pair of formidable hips, indicating that an answer would be appreciated, and soon.

The commander of the protectors looked up at the red-faced cook and immediately realised his plight.

Yes, please bring it in Gudjen, he answered. Then, quietly to his wife he said, I suppose we shall have to eat and polish at the same time.

Gudjen left the room, muttering under her breath.

Lea Hunter had been commander of the protectors since before the Year-Long War. He was a handsome man, approaching middle age but still retaining his looks as well as a shock of golden hair, which made him sought after by most women of the land. Ylia, his wife of some ten years, being almost as tall as her husband with long brown hair and striking features, was used to fending them off. This she did in no uncertain terms and, being renowned as one of the best fighters in Altruis, she didn’t often have problems.

They both sat down at the topmost of three tables, two of which had been laid in preparation for the meal. This top table was set aside for members of First Fragment, being the elite of the three Fragments which made up the twenty one specially chosen protectors of Sperratraze. It’s five other members now made their way across the room to sit and, after saying a polite good morning to Lea and Ylia, continued with their polishing and chatting. Lea spoke softly to his wife and then, leaving the sword he had been polishing, got up and went towards Second Fragment’s table, his eyes fixed on its leader.

Shardo was sitting, talking to two members of his group when he saw the Guard Commander making his way over to him.

Damn, what does he want now? he muttered under his breath then, turning, stood up and bowed deeply as Lea Hunter approached. Good morning Lord, he said winsomely. I trust your fair lady wife and yourself are in good health? Lea smiled.

Thank you Shardo, we are.

Shardo was second in command of the Protectors and leader of Second Fragment. He was a very serious man. As the sole survivor of a shipwreck off the north coast he had been found lying on the shore of Olta’s Hamlet fifteen years ago, not knowing who he was or where he had come from, the ship having sunk without trace in the violence of the storm. He had been brought to the Castle, cared for and allowed to stay if he so desired. He had, and having nowhere else to go set about the task of elevating himself to his present rank. He had never regained his memory but now, after fifteen years, seemed to have filled that void with his new home in Altruis.

Could I have a word with you? Lea said and then headed for the door, curtly acknowledging the two men Shardo had been talking to and who, by this time, had both risen and bowed.

Of course, Shardo said, immediately following.

The two men sat and looked at each other, the taller of the two seemingly worried.

About yesterday, Lea began as Gudjen herded two scullery maids into the dining hall, bearing trays far bigger than themselves while she carried an even bigger urn which slopped here and there as she waddled along behind. Portilla spoke to me last night about a complaint he had received from an occupant of Shogg’s Town. He watched the man closely. Apparently this man was accosted and attacked by a member of your Fragment. Judging by the description, I should think it was Lennard. Lea referred to the taller of the two men with whom Shardo had been talking as they stepped into the corridor.

I think ‘attacked’ is a little strong, he muttered, avoiding the Guard Commander’s eyes. Lennard simply wrestled him to the ground after a disturbance in the town. We were all busy elsewhere and by the time we got back, Lennard had let him go. But he just stood there calling him names, so I thought we’d better leave. That’s all there is to it.

All? Haven’t you forgotten something, like the names Lennard was being called such as thief, filcher and the like?

Well, yes, but… , Shardo stuttered a little, seemingly at a loss for words. Just then the outer door opened.

Two women walked in wearing gleaming chain mail, followed by a stocky man in shirt and breeches and a slim youngster who closed the door behind him. They all stopped and bowed to Lea and Shardo, bidding them both good morning and then went in to the Great Hall, obviously wondering what the two Fragment leaders were doing out in the corridor.

Apparently, Lea continued when they were alone once again, this man claims that Lennard stole two pieces of jewellery from him namely a ring and a gold neck chain. And when he demanded them back, Lennard kicked out from his horse breaking the man’s arm.

I really don’t know anything about that, declared Shardo uncomfortably.

Well, let’s try and prove his innocence, shall we? Lea said. Our sections are both here now and Robby’s section will still be on guard, so the bunk will be empty. Shardo looked horrified. Let us see what we shall see!

Lea indicated for Shardo to lead the way and, after a slight hesitation, Shardo reluctantly opened the door and went out into the inner courtyard, heading for the bunk with Lea close behind.

Just then Gudjen came out of the Great Hall followed by the two girls.

Yer know yer brecky’s out, don’t yer Me Lord? she called after Lea.

Yes, we shan’t be long Gudjen, he said, closing the door.

Well, if its cold when yer get back to it don’t blame me will yer? and then quickly added, Me Lord. She turned and wobbled her way back to the kitchen. I don’t know why I bother, she mumbled, shaking her head.

Lennard was looking at the door, waiting for Shardo and Lea to re-emerge when Tréach, to whom he had been speaking, tapped him on the shoulder.

Don’t worry, Shardo’ll look after you. He always does. He smiled as Lennard turned back to him.

It’s just the way Hunter looked at me, did you see, sort of knowing.

Where did you put the stuff anyway? Tréach enquired.

What do you want to know for? Lennard snapped back at him.

No reason, touchy, he berated. It’s not all yours anyway. You’re going to have to hand it in.

I know that, Lennard said, half grudgingly. But don’t you worry. I’ve got ’em safely locked up somewhere. He swiftly looked round. Anyway, shut up about it now, he said as the four other Second Fragment members approached and sat down amidst words of greeting.

What are they talking about out there? Heldun, the bigger of the two women, enquired.

I think it’s about today’s schedule, Tréach said before Lennard could speak. With it being the twentieth anniversary and all, we’re doing something special. I think so anyway. This answer seemed to satisfy her and so, after Gudjen and the two scullery maids had returned with more laden trays and quickly dished up breakfast to the tables, the two Fragments of Protectors, minus their leaders, ate their brecky.

Chapter 2

Castle Altruis

Graybeard had been awake since before the dawn. He felt nervous, somehow, about the day ahead. Silly, he thought to himself. I’ve been through nineteen celebrations just like this one; why should today be any different? But still he could not suppress that feeling of apprehension.

He was standing on the battlements of the Keep, just above his bedroom, overlooking the outer courtyard of Castle Altruis where all the hustle and bustle was going on in preparation for the day’s festivities over which he, as usual, would preside.

He saw Martin hopping about as if in pain.

Oh dear, he thought, I do hope he’s all right. Well, he’s bound to seek me out if he needs aid. But then he saw the smith’s face burst into a smile as his antics ceased. Graybeard too smiled a little as he sauntered across to the west side and looked out over the plains towards the Wester Mountains.

The fresh easterly breeze of early summer wafted through his grey hair and seemed to blow some of the old man’s worries away with it as he closed his eyes whilst drinking in the sweet air. He opened them again and scanned the horizon, coming to rest on the two pinnacles that marked the joining of the Wester range to the Edac Mountains. He studied those twin pinnacles for a while as he remembered the Year-Long War, the conflict that had taken place those twenty years ago and had sprung from that very mountain range.

His old face grew sad as thoughts flooded back of friends who had died and the terrible onslaught the Castle and its occupants had endured. He quickly dispelled these painful memories and turned his thoughts to Yarshilla, his goddess. He raised his eyes to the heavens and closed them as remembrance of her help in their salvation filled him. He remained like this for a while, happy in the warmth those thoughts of her generated. But slowly the apprehension that he had been feeling since early morning crept back into his thoughts and he opened his eyes to look out over the plain once again. He could not seem to dispel this feeling, and it worried him.

Thoughts of his goddess came back to him yet again and he suddenly felt a great urge to offer a prayer to her, that she might look over the day’s proceedings and guide him in his duties.

He briskly walked over to the tower and climbed, missing out the first floor and carrying on to the second where he opened the door and entered the beautiful altar room that was devoted entirely to Yarshilla, goddess of love and peace.

The room was circular and occupied the whole of this floor, the second highest floor of the Keep. A circular altar dominated the plain room, standing in the centre with a figurine upon it depicting a beautiful woman dressed in white, the only colour present being her eyes of brilliant cerulean blue.

He knelt and felt at peace immediately, loving the feeling that this closeness to his goddess imbued him with. He prayed silently for a while and then opened his eyes, which now seemed to sparkle almost as blue as those of his goddess herself. He came out on to the veranda overlooking the interior of the Castle, his face now bright, no longer feeling his eighty-six years as he thought, It’s going to be a lovely day.

Gudjen, after dealing with the Protectors in the Great Hall, now began preparations for Lord Seblar’s, being Graybeard’s correct title, and Lady Arali’s breakfast.

Pots and pans rattled as she furiously went about her task. Everything had to be just right, especially today, and Gudjen, who adored Graybeard, used every ounce of her experience and ingenuity to make this a brecky to beat all brecky’s. She might even have said it would be a culinary delight, had she known what it meant.

Lucy and Tilley, her two young scullery maids, stood back and watched the bustling cook work, redundant now that the men and women downstairs had been fed. Gudjen rarely allowed anyone else to ready Lord Seblar’s breakfast, and today being of such significance, they knew for certain they would not be needed again until the plates and cutlery were to be washed. So they sat down, to watch an expert at work.

The silver tray that twenty minutes ago had been sparkling bright was now significantly dulled by the multitude of varied breakfast titbits which adorned it. There were jams and cereals, meats and juices, with fish to one side and poultry the other. The girls counted at least five fruits and could not believe that Gudjen would find room for the Lord’s tea. She did though and then finished off her magnificent display with a very simple solitaire flower of yellow, which she expertly squeezed into place at the centre of this feast.

Gudjen stood back and considered her handiwork, looking for possible improvements. But, after close scrutiny along with heartfelt praise from her two young maids, she grunted her approval and took off her pinafore in favour of the bright blue one she always wore to the upstairs chambers. Then she raised the heavily laden tray on to the splayed fingers of her right hand, a feat worthy of even the strongest fighter, and exited the kitchen, allowing herself a well earned smile as she climbed upstairs.

She ascended the curving staircase to the private quarters of Graybeard and his wife Arali, her Seblar pinny as she called it wafting in the breeze due to the speed with which she moved, fear of anything on the tray going cold driving her legs to this amazing feat. At the top of the stairs, Gudjen stopped and, still balancing the tray on her strong right hand, adjusted her pinafore and checked herself for signs of anything out of place. Then, satisfied that she looked her best and with a smile on her face that she saved only for special occasions, she swept into the large dining room.

Good morning May Lord Seblar, Lady Gray, what hay naice day hafor… She stopped in her tracks, the crockery jangling on the tray. Oh ’eck! she exclaimed. Where’s is Lordship Me Lady? The smile faded as she addressed Graybeard’s wife, who sat at the breakfast table alone.

I’m not sure Gudjen, Lady Arali replied. He may be in the chapel. You know how he gets on days like these. He’s probably gone for some spiritual aid.

Spiritual aid, Gudjen said with seeming disgust, almost harmonising with Lady Arali whilst nodding her head in polite, yet obviously annoyed, agreement.

Lady Gray smiled at Gudjen as the cook put the tray down. She knew that Gudjen adored her husband and, seeing the wealth of wonderful breakfast items arrayed on the tray, realised to just what lengths Gudjen had obviously gone in order to make this morning special.

Why Gudjen, you have excelled even yourself this morning?

Aye, thank yer Me Lady, she said with little feeling as she looked at the door to Graybeard’s bedroom. I’ll call fer ’im I think. Lady Arali motioned to rise, but Gudjen stopped her. It’s all right Yer Ladyship, she said. I’ll do it, and she waddled over to the offending door. Graybeard’s wife let out an inaudible sigh of regret and turned away.

Lady Arali was of a similar age to her husband. She was still very attractive, having high cheek bones and silken hair that had turned white only since the Year-Long War. She was known throughout the Castle for her infinite kindness and extreme patience, and it was now that she employed these two attributes to the full as she sat with her back to the formidable cook, cringing, whilst waiting for the assault on her eardrums that she knew would surely come.

Upon reaching the door, Gudjen knocked loudly three times and then called out.

"Lord Seb, Larrrrrrrrrr!"

Lady Arali shuddered as the last of these three syllables detached itself from the others by at least two octaves plus an innumerable number of decibels and reverberated around the room, indeed the Castle.

Martin dropped his hammer, Ernie almost choked on his first beer of the day and Sybil sat bolt upright in bed, complained about the noise, blew off and went back to sleep, apologising profusely to her handsome warrior for the interruption.

Graybeard’s reverie was also shattered in no uncertain terms as the piercing "Larrrrrrrrrr" assaulted even his ear drums, losing hardly any of its impact though it came from two floors below and through at least twenty-five feet of stone.

He recognised Gudjen’s war cry and knew instinctively that he was late. Instantly, he picked up the front of his garment, which touched the floor all around him and headed for the door, bowing very quickly and with little reverence as he passed the altar of his goddess.

He ran downstairs, his spindly legs in full view as he held the gown up around his chest so as not to trip. He ran out of the tower but then, instead of heading across the parapet and down the private staircase to his bedroom, he carried on down the main stairs, deeming it to be a shorter route and knowing full well that time was of the essence.

He bounded down this third flight, showing astounding agility in one of his age, and came to a halt on the self same spot that Gudjen herself had stood only moments earlier. He adjusted his dress, allowing the gown to fall, and then walked into the room in as dignified a manner as he could whilst still breathing heavily.

His wife saw him and smiled as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Just then Gudjen knocked again and took a deep breath. Lady Arali’s face fell.

Lord Seb…

Good morning all! Graybeard interjected quickly, having no desire to hear that wicked third syllable again, especially at such close quarters, particularly as the last one was still ringing in his ears. His wife smiled once again and relaxed.

Gudjen turned, the smile reappearing on her face as she came back over to the table. She curtsied, indicated the tray and spoke, all at the same time, which for Gudjen was quite a feat.

Hoh, good morning to you May Lord Seblar. She laughed. Hi didn’t want your Brayke Farst too go caold. She curtsied again.

Why, thank you Gudjen. You are thoughtful, Graybeard said, coming to the table. Why, what’s this? He stopped, looking at the tray. Gudjen’s smile faltered. Are we expecting royalty my dear? He looked across at his wife.

I don’t think so, she answered, fully realising her husband’s intent.

Then, for whom can this be? For, verily, it is fit for a king. His wife smiled to herself as Graybeard stood looking at the tray, seemingly bemused.

Gudjen was completely taken in by his little charade and after a while, during which time she had been trying to work out what verily meant, she said;

Nay, it’s yer brecky… Hi means, ha ha, hit’s your brayke farst May Lord Seblar. She quickly corrected herself and threw in another curtsey to cover her mistake.

For us? he replied, and Gudjen nodded, smiling inanely at each of them in turn.

Well, well, well. You have done us proud hasn’t she my dear? His wife concurred. This has to be the finest breakfast I have ever seen Mrs. Groob. He called her by her second name to add impact. Gudjen was impressed. You do too much. You spoil us, he said, whilst looking at the tray of delights with unmistakable awe.

Gudjen, quite overcome by the flattery went bright red and, for want of something better to do, curtsied, twice.

Hoh, hit was nothink really, she half muttered. The girls did most hov it hanyway, she continued as she made her way, sideways fashion, to the door.

Graybeard smiled benignly.

Well, I’m sure that’s not true my dear Gudjen, but thank them anyway and thank you for starting this most important day in such a delightful manner.

Gudjen, at the doorway now, could think of nothing to say in the face of these kind words and so she curtsied, just for the sake of variety.

Now off you go, Graybeard said. Take the girls with you and don’t you worry about us for the rest of the day as we shall eat at the carnival as always. And you have a nice time.

Gudjen muttered something like hand you tahooh as she backed out through the door during which time she managed to get in three full curtsies before she turned and trotted down the stairs as if on air, her face still bright red but now covered with a huge grin that would last for days.

My dear, Arali said softly as Gudjen’s footfalls faded away. You do go a little far sometimes. She smiled at him.

You’re probably right my dear, he said, kissing her on the cheek. But I do so like to make her feel special after all the trouble she goes to for us. He sat down opposite his wife and looked at the feast laid out before him.

Well, I don’t suppose it does any harm really.

She then poured the tea as her husband absently buttered a piece of toast, his mind coming back to the business of the day and with it the feeling of apprehension that he could neither understand nor explain.

Chapter 3

Overseer

I shall leave the recriminations to you Shardo. Lea handed a gold ring and neck chain to the Second Fragment leader as they entered the hallway and stopped just outside the door of the Great Hall. Although I would make it clear to you that Lennard is to be made an example of.

I shall take care of it Lord Hunter, Shardo said, putting the items of jewellery into his pocket.

I would hope that you do. Lea looked the man hard in the face. Neither of them registered the big bustling cook as she made her way from the staircase to the kitchen, wearing a huge smile. I have not spoken of this, or any of the other little misdemeanours, to anyone as yet. Shardo was unable to hide the shock. Yes Shardo, I know all about them but I am prepared to sweep them under the carpet for the present as you are a first-rate leader, and I don’t want to lose you, but… Lea’s stare fixed the man even harder. If you or any member of your Fragment steps out of line one more time, then Graybeard will hear of it and I shall have to look for your replacement.

Very quietly Shardo muttered that he would take care of it. Lea nodded and went inside, Shardo following.

I want to speak to you, Shardo addressed the taller of the two men he had been speaking with earlier.

In a minute boss, he answered mouth full of bacon. I’m eating.

Now Lennard. Outside! Shardo virtually spat these words at him through clenched teeth, turned on his heel and walked through the door with a very shocked Lennard following, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

Lennard gone, has he? Tréach enquired as Shardo sat at the table less than a minute later. Just then the outer door was heard slamming.

Shut up! Shardo hissed at him.

Oh well, he won’t want this then will he? Tréach picked up Lennard’s half full plate and set it on top of his own.

The preparations were almost as noisy as the festivities themselves, or so it seemed to Portilla. He would have shouted at them if he thought it would have done any good but he turned over instead and, pulling the sheets tight around him, fell back into a light slumber.

Arat Portilla was the village overseer. Having built up an indispensable knowledge of the area and the villages roundabout, he formed a buffer between Graybeard and the villagers themselves, who came to him if they had any trouble. He had commanded this position for many years now and built up a reputation of being a very fair, if short tempered, man. He was now about to lose that temper as his peace was shattered once again, not by the hammerings in the courtyard but by what appeared to be someone hammering at his front door.

Portilla had, long ago, posted a sign on that door to the effect that he was not to be disturbed until two hours after sunrise and it was with this knowledge, plus the fact that no one had ever contravened this rule, that he knew he must be dreaming. The hammering stopped, and so he closed his eyes and turned over but swiftly sat bolt upright again as the assault on his front door continued anew.

His eyes narrowed and his face grew hard as he threw back the covers and rose from his warm bed, reaching for the robe that hung on the back of the bedroom door. Throwing it around himself he yanked open the door and stormed through, eyeing the guard dog that stood by the front door and now cowered away from him.

Useless, he muttered, staring at the animal as the hammering began again with renewed vigour.

Cease! he bellowed. The dog stole away, tail between its legs and the noise stopped.

He threw open the door and came face-to-face with Lennard, who was standing on a lower step.

Can’t you read? he said, pointing to the times written on the door. It says here, not until two hours after sunrise, do you see it lad? Lennard nodded. So what do you think you’re doing?

Shardo said er… He told me that Lord Hunter said I was to er… to come and speak to you sir, he stuttered.

Oh did he! Portilla bellowed. Did he now? And what about, that’s so urgent it can’t wait until the proper time? He dared Lennard to give him the reason, fixing him with his gaze.

About these, the lad said and dropped his eyes as he produced the neck chain and ring from behind his back.

Portilla looked at the two items and then back at Lennard.

So, it was you was it? His voice had dropped considerably. Well, you’d better come in then hadn’t you? Portilla left the door open as he made his way back to his bedroom. Stand by the door and don’t move, he said over his shoulder, or else he’ll have you! He indicated the dog that now stood in the corner, tail still between its legs.

Moments later he re-emerged carrying a large book and sat down with it on his lap, opening it to a particular page which he perused for some while.

So many complaints, of which this is only the latest, he said without looking up. Most of them seem to concern you or your Fragment. He raised his eyes and looked sternly at Lennard. Why is that? Lennard simply stood there. Well? he spoke again after what seemed an eternity to Lennard. What have you got to say for yourself? He tapped the page, indicating the last entry.

Lennard shifted uneasily and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He tried again, unsuccessfully.

Lad, I don’t want an excuse. I just want to know if you admit it.

Lennard slowly nodded his head.

Good. Now then, how much money have you got put by? He stood up and began filling a pipe, leaving the book still open on the table.

Er. I’ve only got a few silver, he said, a little worried.

But you haven’t been paid yet, I know that at least. He lit his pipe and turned to look at him. So, go and collect your pay, pick up your ‘few silver,’ then borrow or beg some more from your friends until you have the princely sum of thirty silver jingling in your pockets. Then come back here and I shall tell you what we are going to do with it. Lennard was horrified.

But…

No buts, lad! It’s either this or we let Lord Seblar in on the secret, and I don’t need to tell you what will happen then, do I?

Utterly defeated, Lennard slowly nodded and turned to leave.

Within the hour lad, Portilla said, writing the figure in the book as the door closed.

That’ll teach you to get caught. Portilla puffed on his pipe and smiled.

The other side of Portilla’s reception room wall had a moist glass pressed hard against it and pressed to the other side of the glass was an ear which belonged to Dell, the Castle sage.

Poor old Lennard, he half chuckled to himself as he took the spying implement from the wall, turned it right side up and refilled it, immediately draining half of its contents. He grimaced as he swallowed the almost neat alcohol.

That’s better, he said, unconvincingly.

Dell was the elder brother of Gudjen and Nosmader and had attained the position of sage due to his unique ability at solving problems of even the greatest complexity. Anybody was welcome to come and see him and ask his advice, and they did, at all hours. But, unlike his neighbour, Dell didn’t mind the constant interruptions and would often sit up long into the night, listening to someone’s complicated dilemma, only to solve the seemingly impossible problem with a few wise and well chosen words. Dell also used these frequent meetings to put into action his second profession, that of bookmaker.

This secondary occupation, which also doubled as Dell’s hobby, was frowned upon by Graybeard although still allowed. Most people enjoy a flutter, Graybeard had admitted. And as you always keep the stakes to a minimum, no real harm can be done. Dell had agreed and pointed out that even if anyone did get into trouble they could always ask his advice, to which the old man had laughed. Dell had laughed too, just thankful that the old man didn’t know about the serious gambling!

It was with this in mind that he now refilled the glass and wandered over to his front door, opened it and looked out across the courtyard, taking care to avoid the fateful stairs that had fooled him many times in the past causing both pain and embarrassment.

Martin old friend, he called across to the smith. How are you today?

Martin stopped his hammering, looked up and smiled.

Morning Dell, he said, walking over to the already inebriated bookkeeper. You’re up early, aren’t you?

Yes, I wet the bed. Dell took a large swig to hide the smile.

Oh, I see… Pardon! Martin dropped his hammer, narrowly missing his right foot. Dell laughed out loud, spraying Martin with liquor and then coughed as the remaining liquid demanded to be swallowed.

Sorry Martin, he said, still giggling to himself. I couldn’t resist it.

Oh, you’re having me on? Martin said hopefully, wiping his face while retrieving his hammer.

Portilla had a visitor and the knocking woke me up, Dell explained as his laughter subsided. Martin nodded, looked to left and right, and then, in a low secretive voice, said;

What will you be doing today Dell?

Well, he adopted a similar attitude to his friend whilst forcing back the mirth that threatened to take him over again. We’ll have the races here as normal, but the dogfights will be in Altruis village this year as soon as Graybeard has been through which should be just after midday. He winked at Martin who attempted to do the same but never having mastered the skill succeeded only in closing both eyes and opening them again.

I’ll be there Dell, he said. I’ll give you a hand setting up if you like. I’ve just got to finish this off first. He pointed to the stage he’d been working on.

No hurry Martin old mate, no hurry. He smiled back at him. I’m still having breakfast yet anyhow, he said, draining his glass.

Chapter 4

Third Fragment

Robby watched from the battlements of the gate tower as Dell finished his breakfast, knowing automatically what he’d secretly been telling Martin. He felt a little jealous as he knew he would not be able to attend any of the races, secret or otherwise, due to the fact that he and his Fragment were to man the ramparts until dark.

Robby was a slim man of some thirty odd years, with a kindly face and generous nature. He had been Third Fragment leader ever since Shardo had ousted him to take over Second Fragment. He didn’t mind though as he enjoyed what he did whether it was with Second or Third Fragment.

He had watched the slow trickle of people coming into Altruis since first light and now could see that things were beginning to hot up as more and more people approached the Castle. He went into the conical-roofed room where the three runners were sleeping and gently roused the one nearest the door, ushering him out on to the battlements.

Brān, he said quietly. I want you to take message to Brew-Dream and Azal in the other towers that we are now on full duty, do you understand? Brān blinked and stifled a yawn.

But that’s Bisk’s job sir, he said quite alarmed as he referred to the elder boy still asleep.

I know that. Robby smiled at him. But he could do with a sleep in and, besides, a little bird told me that today was your birthday. Brān looked at him disbelievingly.

Er, what sort of bird was that sir? he stammered.

Never you mind. You have an important job to do so off you go, and tell Nosmader and Dlarag to come up with a mug of tea for me, he added.

Yes sir, Brān said and ran off round the battlements.

Quietly now, Robby said.

Brān stopped and tiptoed the rest of the way.

After waking Nosmader and Dlarag in the downstairs room, he ran out of the tower and across the courtyard, waving to Ernie and his two daughters as they swept the front porch in preparations for the day’s business. He entered the southern tower and, after creeping past Ulf who was snoring loudly, bounded up the stairs to deliver his message to Brew-Dream.

Oh, thank you very much Brān, Brew-Dream said. And I hope you have a nice birthday. Brān was about to run off but stopped.

Who told you sir? he said, turning back to face the fresh-faced young man.

Oh, a little bird, Brew-Dream said, tapping his nose. And my name’s Brew-Dream, not sir, he added, smiling.

Brān was dumbfounded (especially at the nose tapping), but he put it out of his mind and set off again, heading for the high tower atop the Keep.

He ran back into the courtyard, turning towards the inner bailey, greeting Dell and Martin on his way. He ran through the inner portcullis and into the Keep, bounding upstairs so happy was he at being given this important task. He remembered, just in time, that this was Graybeard’s abode and slowed down in order to tiptoe past the old man’s breakfast room. Quietly he crept up the next flight which brought him into the top tower itself. Now he ran at full tilt up the remaining two flights, past the altar room where Graybeard had prayed not long before and into the observation room above; this being the highest point in the entire Castle. He slowed down at the top upon seeing Gorth and one of the runners fast asleep, and he slowly crept towards the battlements on tiptoe, not wanting to wake them.

Gorth sprang to his feet, sword springing immediately to hand as he grabbed hold of Brān and brought the weapon up to the lad’s throat.

And just what do you think you’re doing eh? the lithe young Fragmenteer barked at him.

Brān was so shocked that, although he tried, he could not answer.

Come on lad, Gorth rasped. Why were you creeping up on me like a little sneak thief? Brān, who was only nine years old, could not speak due to his fear, and worse than that, he felt that he would soon cry.

Gorth! Let him go and don’t be so stupid! a female voice shouted from the doorway of the battlements. It’s Brān. He’s one of Robby’s runners.

Is that so? Gorth said without raising his head. Well, I want to hear it from the brat! He held the boy tighter as a drop of blood trickled down his sword blade.

Stop it Gorth! she said, coming into the room now. He can’t answer. He’s petrified.

’Course he can, can’t you boy? He smiled incongruously at the lad.

Let him go Gorth, she said. I command you! She moved closer to him, eyes blazing bright blue.

Don’t you dare Azal, he said with menace, and she stopped in her tracks. Now lad, he spoke low. Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?

The boy murmured as he tried to answer, but he was so terrified he couldn’t. The blade claimed more blood and Azal’s anger grew. Her eyes had blazed before, but now they literally shone as she whispered a Word of solicitude to her goddess.

Instantly, the whispered Word flew from her mouth and joined with the bright cerulean blue which sprang from her eyes. It leapt forward as one in that precise moment, immediately cocooning the weapon that had broken the young boy’s skin and picking the blade away from his neck, the Word echoing around the chamber.

Gorth had not believed she would go to these lengths, but now he pushed back against the Word. The sword was being pushed slowly backwards and, try as he might, he could not fight it.

You bitch! he screamed at her in frustration. Let go. Now!

Allow the boy to come to me and I shall ask My Lady Yarshilla to release your weapon, Azal spoke quite calmly while her eyes continued to shine with the blue light of her goddess, filling the room with its soft hue.

The sword was now above Gorth’s right shoulder, being pushed back with the Word that Azal wielded. Gorth could do nothing to resist this power and he knew it, yet still he plotted.

With amazing deftness he released the sword, allowing it to fall harmlessly behind him, and plucked a dagger from the back of his neck. He threw it straight at Azal before she could react and then, in a blur, pulled a second dagger from a sheath that hung at his waist.

Azal was aware of Gorth’s ability and had expected some trick or ploy from him, and so she was ready. A thought whisked the Word back and lightly flicked the thrown implement to one side, making it fly harmlessly over her shoulder. Instantly she realised her mistake as she saw the second dagger already against the boy’s throat, so quick was Gorth’s move.

Stop Gorth! she exclaimed, eyes still blazing. Gorth now grinned at her.

Get rid of it.

Azal knew that she could try again with probable success, but she also realised that this was not the way as Brān could well be injured. She thought only briefly and then whispered;

Thank you my lady. She closed her eyes as the Word, together with the bright cerulean light that had filled the room, disappeared, leaving her motionless, head tilted upwards, still in her goddess Yarshilla’s benign grip.

Good. Now you’re learning, he gloated, his smile increasing as she eventually came out of her trance. You don’t really think I’d take his worthless life do you?

Why not, she answered him calmly, her eyes still blazing but without the power of her goddess within them. You would have taken mine. Gorth laughed out loud and then stopped suddenly.

You stupid bitch, he spat. It would have nicked your arm, nothing more. I only wanted to dispel the Word.

I see. Well, since you now have what you want, why not let the boy come to me?

Gorth’s smile reappeared. He liked the taste of power, and he now turned back to the petrified Brān, blade still against the boy’s skin.

Azal knew she had to keep calm, but the sight of Gorth’s brutal attitude made her burst and her eyes blazed once more.

Or will I have to use a more powerful Word? she shouted at him.

His smile disappeared.

I sincerely hope you won’t. The voice came from the stairs, the figure of Graybeard following swiftly after it.

He came into the room and surveyed the scene, his face morose.

I would very much like to know what has been going on here, important enough for Words of power to be used and weapons drawn. His enquiring gaze rested on the sword that lay at his feet. Blood has been spilled. His voice grew harder. Whose? No one spoke.

He walked towards the centre of the room and now fixed Gorth with his eyes.

Release the boy Gorth. Allow him his freedom. His tone was low and calm yet carried authority. Gorth hesitated but a moment before relaxing his grip, allowing Brān to run forward into the arms of Azal. Only now did the boy allow the tears of fright to fall as Azal cradled him in her arms.

Well young men. Graybeard now smiled as he addressed Brān and the other runner, Trell, who had awakened and sat dumb, watching the whole affair with a look on his face akin to that of his playmate. It seems that you two are well on the way to becoming protectors of Altruis if this morning’s bravery is anything to go by. Brān hastily pulled back the tears, and it wasn’t long before he and Trell had broad smiles on their faces due to their Lord’s continuing words of praise. As a treat, not only for this special day, but mainly because of your unbridled bravery, I want you to go down to my dining room where you will find Lady Arali. You know where it is, don’t you? They both nodded eagerly. Very well. Tell her that I sent you and ask whether she would give you both some breakfast. With smiling faces, they muttered thanks and set off. Oh, just before you go, would you do me one small favour Brān dear boy? Both of them stopped and Brān nodded vigorously.

Yes Your Lordship, anything sir.

Good boy. I just want you to retrieve that weapon over there. He indicated the dagger on the floor behind Azal. Brān hesitated.

Quickly now, Lady Arali is waiting.

The boy needed no more prompting. He ran to where the dagger lay, picked it up and returned to Graybeard.

Why, thank you Brān. How quick you were. Brān held the implement out to Graybeard who looked at it, a slight grimace on his face. I really don’t like these things you know Brān. I don’t like to touch them. He stopped, as if a thought had just struck him. Azal smiled. I wonder if I might ask another favour of you so quickly after the last. Brān, very eager to please, said;

Yes sir, you may.

How kind you are. Kindness and bravery in one so young is rare these days. You are brave, aren’t you Brān?

The little boy was virtually bursting with pride.

Yes sir. Of course I am sir.

Good. Graybeard paused slightly. Well then Brān, I want you to return the dagger to its rightful owner and with it to offer your friendship, if you are of the mind to, he emphasised the latter and waited.

Brān turned and was halfway to Gorth when he realised. He faltered mid-step. Graybeard waited and was just about to speak when he saw Brān take a deep breath and march, not walk, straight up to the startled Gorth, hand him the dagger hilt first and say in a very clear and controlled voice:

Sir, I would like to offer you my friendship. He then held out his left hand and waited.

The other hand, Azal whispered softly to him. Brān quickly switched hands.

Gorth, very startled at this, took the proffered dagger and then laughed out loud. He ignored the outstretched right hand and, taking the youngsters left hand in his, shook it vigorously.

I accept, if you accept mine?

I do, Brān said, a little unsure.

Splendid. Graybeard came forward to them. Now then, off you go the pair of you and tell Lady Arali that I shan’t be long.

The boys ran off downstairs, giggling and chattering together, the traumas of the last few minutes fading with every step.

A rare courage that boy has, Graybeard said, turning around after they had gone. He almost lost that courage Gorth.

He got no response as Gorth stood with head bowed. Azal too kept her head lowered as the old man scrutinised them both.

Do either of you want to tell me about it? There was a moment of silence that was eventually broken by Azal.

We had a silly disagreement Lord Seblar, and for my part I’m sorry. She looked at Gorth who hadn’t moved. I feel sure that Gorth feels the same and am therefore confident that this sort of thing will never happen again.

Graybeard nodded a few times and looked at each of them.

Gorth? he questioned, turning to face him.

Gorth shuffled uneasily as he felt the old man’s gaze on him.

He felt daunted by this man, overshadowed by him. He had never been able to look him in the eye, not for long anyway, because it felt as if he could see right into the heart, the soul even and that worried Gorth. He fidgeted for a while longer, bent down and picked up his sword, wiping it clean of the young man’s blood before replacing it in its sheath, and then muttered words which sounded vaguely like I’m sorry.

Graybeard realised that even this barely audible apology was a significant advance for this man and he smiled.

I am pleased, he said, bringing them both together and placing a hand on each of their shoulders. We have enemies enough. Let us fight them if we have to fight at all. There was a long silence while he held them in his arms. Good, he said, breaking free. Now. He glanced around. Oh. We don’t have any runners, do we; thanks to me. He smiled at them. Gorth. I am sorry, but would you mind going to tell Robby that everything here is fine and that Brān and Trell will be about an hour or so as they are wading through my breakfast? Gorth muttered something unintelligible and then disappeared, swiftly and silently down the stairs.

Now my child. He turned to Azal after Gorth had left. I think we should both offer our gratitude to Yarshilla for granting of the Word, don’t you? Azal nodded her agreement but then looked at the old man in puzzlement.

My Lord? she said.

Graybeard tut-tutted as he turned towards her, a look of warm chastisement on his face. He wagged his finger at her.

Child, when we are alone can we try to be what we are? He took her hand in his. You are still my daughter even though you are serving Altruis. He adopted a questioning look and she smiled back at him and put her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder.

Of course father. I’m sorry, she said as he gently stroked her hair.

Her features were more in keeping with those of her mother and, although dressed in the uniform of the Protectors, her beauty was detracted from to no great degree. She had served Altruis as soon as she had been able, going against the wishes of both her parents but receiving their full support once she had shown that she would not be deterred. Hers was an unusual position inasmuch as she had sworn never to take a life, being a devout follower of Yarshilla whilst also having to be proficient with weaponry for acceptance into the ranks of the Protectors. She had rationalised this dilemma through developing a unique ability of disarming and subdual without the risk of seriously injuring her opponents. She had developed this to the degree that all but the best fighters of Altruis would fall foul of her tactics. She also had the power of the Word, and with the two taken into consideration, Lea Hunter had had little option but to allow her admittance.

It was with her special ability in mind that she now looked at her father again, with the same puzzlement in her eyes.

Father? How could you know I had cast a power Word? I had dispelled it before you came up the stairs.

My child, you have so much to learn. Her father smiled at her. We, who have been granted the power from My Lady Yarshilla, are immediately aware that a Word has been loosed due to the closeness of our thoughts, he explained. As soon as you began to mouth the Word I could feel it and would have even if you had been as far away as the Kneck; such is the potency of what you do.

Azal looked at him shamefacedly.

I should not have done it should I My Lord? she asked.

That is not for me to say my child, he answered, walking out on to the battlements overlooking the Castle. "When I was at such a stage as you in