The Firelance
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Play here to listen to Chapter I
The Return
Norm stood behind the fence outside his forge, looking towards the horizon between the long houses with red roofs and curved walls where against the sun a small group of riders closed in on their village of Acrenod. The villagers had gathered. It seemed that finally the Lords of the village were returning. And sure enough first in the column the Elder and the Youngest could be seen. Behind them the Almajiri, the apprentices and warriors of the lord pair of young and old - deed and wisdom, rising and setting sun.
As they entered the hamlet the six horses came to stop before the village temple around the well. When they set down from their horses everyone could see their exhaustion. Many villagers, including Norm therefore made their way to the well and helped them take down what the Almajiri had brought with them. They had full saddle bags on the back of their horses but something in their eyes, their faces, the way they set down from their horses was different.
“What happened?”, Ron called, the carpenter from the back of the crowd as they helped the lords and Almajiri carry luggage to the manor. The young lord by the name of Tren set down in front of the temple where now a small group of people had gathered and began to report:
“We went from the mountains back to Talinelad, carrying much loot from the Immortal Kings Campaign. And although we did not take the possessions of the living and stole Ancient Artifacts which did not belong to the Murr in the first place - I wish I could put it differently - but it was not pretty. It had the taste of the great war against the Star Edanists. Tongar over there has not come away from it with his mind intact - too scared for his Soul because of what he had to do and too shocked that he was capable of doing it.”
All, including Norm looked over where the mother of the Almajiri Tongar tried to talk to him with silent tears whilst the boy just kept staring into the nothingness. Those who did not keep staring directed their attention back to Tren in order not to have to feel empathy for the mother just yet. Only Ilana, Norms wife and the priest of the village, made her way over and started to talk to them with Tariana, their 7 years old daughter, following close by.
“Anyways”, Tren continued with a sigh, not of indifference but emotional exhaustion, “We went from the mountains back to Talinelad. But when we arrived there the city had been burned down almost to the last house!”
The crowd gasped.
“In turns out,” Tren continued, “there were many campaigns the Murr committed into our Lands when we deemed it wise to make war in theirs. So we did not manage to sell any of that which we had gathered. So in a bit, we will leave again, maybe in a day or more, to Duraan.”
The people in the crowd started asking questions but Norm did not listen. The village had run low on grain, having underestimated the amount they might give to the crown for their war. The additional silver could have come in very handy. But at least there was loot and the Lords had returned. As he was thinking these thoughts, the crowd started talking amongst itself and Tren walked over to him. He had his saddle bag hanging over his shoulder.
“Still crying goodbye?”, Tren asked with a smirk.
Norm started to smile a wide grin and gave his friend a hug.
“I see you came back in one piece with no notable increase in your mental deficiency?”
Tren laughed, then he looked over his shoulder and his face got a bit more serious.
“I found something you might be interested in!” His hands slid into his saddlebag as he pulled out a small wooden and iron box with Naturune engravings along the top.
Norm took it and with arched eyebrow looked at Tren.
“A box?”
“A powder! See the runes? It is an old ancient alchemists box.”
Norm nodded and carefully opened it and closed it immediately.
“The box alone is worth a couple of golden letters!”, Norm remarked. “You are going to sell it in Duraan?”
“Yes!”, Tren admitted. “But I want you to have what's in it! But make sure to keep it away from fire, there is a flame symbol here!” He pointed at the little symbol carved into the wood.
“Good that you are giving it to a smith, then!”, Norm chuckled.
Tren stepped forward so only Norm could hear him.
“This is exactly why I want you to have it!” Tren turned away with a smile, carrying his saddlebags to the manor. Norm looked down to the box in his hands.
Play here to listen to Chapter II
The Forge
The “Iron Heart” Forge was Norms true home. On the walls there hang his flatters, Tongs, Sledges, his Punches, Chisels, Fullers and Rivets. Next to the furnace the fire lit the anvil of his forefathers. Here they had stood for more then three hundred years, generation over generation, forging the weapons of heroes. But none of them were around anymore. The War had claimed them - some lost, some still in service. Both the weapons and the heroes.
And now they were needed more then ever. The Immortal Kingdom, as anyone knew, had been attacked bei the Murr who went about burning towns and villages. Good steel could protect the country. It could save lives and spread confidence amongst the warriors in the field protecting the people. Such people as those in Norms village.
His father - blessed be his soul - was by now resting in the soultree grove. He had taught Norm everything he knew. Everyone of his ancestors had made contributions during their times - and every time they did earlier or later that invention could be found somewhere else in the fight against the Beasts or on the walls of a castle defending it against the Babarians.
He went about starting a fire, throwing together some charcoal, smaller wood and lighting it. And then he took the box that Tren had given him and set down next to the anvil. Slowly he filled its contents into six smaller tin cups.
He put the box aside to return it to Tren and then set down next to the anvil with one of the cups. He carefully angled the cup so the sunlight coming through the open fourth wall of the Forge could illuminate its contents. He could see a dark brown powder. The sizes of each speck was unlike the other giving it an appearance of impurity.
‘Keep it away from fire’ Tren had said.
He looked around and found a tong to hold a small, flat bronze plate on which he added a bit of the powder. But before he could go through with his experiment he noticed behind him someone entering. He looked around, suspecting one of his apprentices but saw his wife, Ilana instead.
He put the tong away and looked up. She set down without saying a word. In her brown eyes he saw exhaustion and something more that he had not seen before.
“Tongar?”, he asked.
She nodded. Eventually she took a deep breath and forced herself to speak.
“The others say Talinelad was burned down?”
Norm nodded slowly. “Yeah, I believe that Tren talked told the rest while you were attending to Tongar … how is he by the way?”
“Not good … Talinelad is very close!” She switched the topic. Norm had tried to avoid that.
“I am sure the Murr will have no interest in a little village on the Huluacris plane!”
She looked at him with a mix of concern and exhaustion.
“I hope you are right … but what if you are not?”
He said nothing, looking further into the flame. He knew what she was asking and she knew it too.
“I know you've never been much concerned about your own safety but I am. And so is your daughter!”, she said.
Another silence. “I know what the Forge means to you!”
“For three hundred years my fathers have been here …”
She nodded. “I know!”
“And I have not yet made my own invention!”
She inched closer and leaned against him. “Let us go to Alleira! You can do it there!”
“I wouldn’t have my tools, we wouldn’t have the means to buy them, most of it I could not transport …”
She said nothing.
What was the risk of staying? Was it worth the cost of leaving? How could he tell?
Loss to avoid risk - everything in him revolted against it. The danger of sacrificing what must not be sacrificed.
That evening no decision was made. And so it remained between them even after she had left the forge he sat there alone and thought deeper into their conversation. It felt like his stomach had tightened. For a while he could not do anything but stare at the fire.
Eventually though he decided to forget about it for the night and picked up the tong with the brown powder on it.
He went over to the forge fire, braced himself and as he was holding it into the heat, it immediately burned violently.
For a moment he stood there in awe. He had noticed the violence with which the flame had burned. It had almost exploded. He could see it: The might, the potential and it took his mind off the conversation he previously had and if it was only for that short rest of the night in the forge as he started to experiment.
Play here to listen to Chapter III
Paralysis
The Huluacris was a flat plane. Somewhere a few hundred meters away from the village center there was a small hill on which some bushes grew. This little place had an old windmill in need of repair and nobody had been there in the recent moons. Exactly at this spot a man with a monocular and green clothing was laying on his belly hidden in the bushes that day, watching the village. Nobody knew that he was there and what he wanted. But if they would have known, they might have considered leaving.
Ilana was again at the House of the two Lords attending to Tongar. But most of the village had already given up hope. Nonetheless it was her duty as the village’s priest and mental healer not to give up hope. She had to prepare for the ritual that was held monthly in the temple.
Norm had been similarly busy spending most evenings and nights in the forge. He was obsessed with the brown powder. It had not taken him long to figure that a barrel might be the best object to force the energy contained in the powder on one point. In addition the led he had laying around made for good bolts. But his invention was less powerful than a bow and hard to aim. He had to tug it under his shoulders as it was too heavy … in short - it was a work in progress.
As they were both busy with their own tasks they managed well to get out of each others way. Nobody had yet touched the topic again. But it had by now been almost a full moon so he felt like meeting her somewhat halfway. And so he had started taking care of their daughter Tariana, who now sat outside in the evening sun with a couple of her friends, watching him.
He could see the community house at the other side of the road where a couple of other kids looked over, then nervously away. They got ready to run down to the small creek but did not ask Tariana and the two friends with her to join. He was loosely aware that it was not always easy for her to make friends with the rest of the village kids - partially because they knew she was the daughter of a priest. And everyone respected the priest - even more then the Lords sometimes - and that made the children afraid to ask her to join.
He had asked her today to go play in front of the forge but she and her friends just sat there.
“So what's this?”, he inquired as he was putting a tong of hot metal into the cooling water. Through the vapor he watched their reactions.
“We wanna go to the river!”, Tariana complained. He groaned. The thing with the working and watching kids at the same time was not really coming along too well.
“Where do you wanna go?”
“To the river!”
He nodded. He remembered the river - as it was 30 years ago … and it had not changed a bit. The great Falgon tree that stood at the other side of its shore was factually the best climbing tree in the whole world - at least he remembered his 10 years old self being certain of that. It was there that he had conceived of becoming a great warrior with a legacy to remember into the ages.
He did not say anything. Searching for a reason to abdicate his responsibility he thought of how the other grown ups let their children play there with only the supervision of the old Clover. It was another discussion postponed indefinitely: The fact that priests were only allowed to have one child meant that he and Ilana were more protective than almost any other parent of her one daughter. Could he just forego the discussion and let her go? Surely nothing would happen - and as long as they were back early enough. Clover was there to watch them after all.
“You don’t like the Forge?”, he asked whilst fishing for new tools to get to work on another piece.
“No. It’s loud and full of things that kill people!”
It stung a bit. He wondered who had put that thought in her head - maybe a war weary Almajiri. He did not reply but instead sighed, shook his head and then smiled at her.
“Okay - you can go to the river but stay where Clover can see you, that is the condition!”
Tariana smiled widely. She left the forge and ran back into the evening sun with her friends after her. As he was standing there, leaning on the hammer, resting on the anvil Ron and his son Caelled came walking around the forge and closed in on him. The 14 year old Caelled did his best to help his dad carry wood supplies and tools. Norm waved them over and they dropped the supplies on the workbench in the center of the forge.
For a week now Ron had started working together with Norm and he had been making himself useful. Now a couple of handles, wooden plates and a shoulder pad form lay on the table. Caelled watched the two men discuss and try to fit things together. They nodded, rearranged parts and eventually they seemed to agree that Ron should add a new block to it. But he left the parts he had made with Norm for further testing.
After all was said and done, Norm watched Caelled and Ron leave. For a moment he sat down and felt into himself. What Tariana had said, her disinterest, seeing Caelled learn from Ron, the decision he was bound to make - it all mixed up in his head and filled him with a sense of dread. The kind you feel when you know you should be doing something but you don’t have any intention to find out what because the result of your consideration would likely cause you discomfort if you would have to act on it. He honestly tried - but eventually he stood up, looked down on the parts on the table and decided to start assembling them. For what it was worth, his project was coming together and would soon be ready for the first test.
Play here to listen to Chapter IV
Death of the Elder
The Invention lay before him on the table. The polished metal glistened as the fire of the forge reflected on it. He had sat there for a while, just looking at it. With a little luck after some extensive tests it would work. He looked outside, the sun had just set and Ron was supposed to have been there by now but Norm was still alone. He stood up and started walking up and down. He left the forge, went around to check that the metal plate nailed to the stick in the ground was still stuck there as intended, leaned his weight against it and took a step back: It had not moved. As was intended. He walked back to the Forge looking over the Horizon where the last red of the sun was fading into the light of the two moons.
Something wasn’t right. He decided to go looking for Ron and started making his way towards the carpenter workshop on the other side of the village. As he went there he came by the house of the lords and spotted a closed door. This was unusual. He looked around, then walked towards it and knocked. What was going on?
In the hall he entered stood Tren, Ilana and a couple others including the Almajiris with drawn swords. They surrounded a bed that had been moved into the middle of the room. He moved closer and there the Old Lord lay - dead. The faces were illuminated by the soul’s coalescence above the dying. Tren didn’t say a word - everyone was silent. Then the Shadow subsided and the Soul ascended, shining in a bluish light.
People made haste and Ron came in with a wooden stretcher on which the old man was placed with care. The Almajiris stood to each side whilst Ilana took the beginning of the procession, beginning to sing the “rhyme of the silent valley”.
The people on both sides walked humming the melody. Only Tren remained left sitting on the table. Norm walked over to him and sat down. From there they watched the doors open and the silhouette of the old man being carried away. The doors closed and there was nothing but silence for a moment.
Norm put a hand on Tren’s shoulder. They sat there like this for a bit. Then Tren stood up and started pacing. Clearly something was on his mind - unsurprisingly - he tried clumsily to get at the core of the matter.
“Isn’t it weird that we go about our day and we think of the most important matters for the next days and then all of a sudden we are reminded that nothing of the little things really matters. But they do - don't they? You know, they matter in the big picture but only if the last page is written.” He sat down but couldn’t sit still so he stood back up and kept pacing.
“It’s not even that. It's just - legacy - you know, Norm?”
“I know, Tren!”
“Tell me - how was it when your old man died?”
Norm thought about it for a while and then said:
“I have always looked up to my father. He taught me everything I knew and I was eager to test myself. And I did - he had taught me well. I think it was because I got bogged down in making little things - some swords there, arrowtips here - and then there was the union with Ilana, our child, the Immortal Kings decrees - I never really made … I guess what could have been done? I think in a way it was not my fathers legacy to invent the ribbon bolt loader for the heavy crossbows - his legacy was me. And when he died … I wasn’t worth it yet … I think!”
Tren looked down on his hand with a letter in it.
“I am not sure if I am ready!”
Norm stood up from the bench.
“You will be in time!”
“I could have been ready earlier!”
“In any possible scenario this is true!”
“I appreciate that you are trying to comfort me but I was lazy. I could have studied more, I could have tested more - I could have consulted more mentors. And I didn’t!”
Norm frowned.
“Tren? Is this something I should know?” He pointed at the letter.
Tren looked at him with a glassy gaze and handed over the letter.
The door of the hall swung open and Ron entered. He had returned to pick up a few things he had left after bringing the stretcher in a haste. Behind him followed Ilana and she stopped near Tren.
“He is now laid to rest in his spot!”, she told Tren. He nodded.
“I will go over to see after him when we have taken the necessary precautions.”
“Precautions?”, Ilana asked. Tren nodded towards Norm who was just now reading the letter:
It was written from one of the Almajiris who had left weeks earlier with the objects they were planning to sell in Duraan.
The letter was a dark omen.
The riders had been engaged by a skirmishing Murr warparty. Most of them had died, only few had survived and now they were reluctant to make their journey back through to the village, leaving the walls of Duraan. The letter had reached them by pigeon - it was a couple of days old.
Norm put down the paper. A shudder ran down his spine.
“Can we read?” Ilana stepped closer and Ron also made his way over. Tren shrugged and Norm handed over the letter.
“It was my responsibility to see further and I didn’t!” Tren had sunken into the bench.
Ron who had a small glimpse at the letter nodded and started walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?", Norm inquired.
“To get my family out of here as long as we still can!”
Norm did not want to lift his gaze afraid to have it cross with Ilanas. Eventually he decided to follow as well, trying to catch up with the Carpenter. He saw him outside walking down the street in a fast pace.
“We are not yet done with the lance!”, Norm shouted.
“So?”, replied Ron without stopping.
“If we leave now we will not be able to finish it!”
Ron stopped and walked towards him, coming to stand a couple of meters in front of him.
“I will take care of my family and you should do the same!”
He turned away.
Play here to listen to Chapter V
Silhouettes
“I'm taking care of my family!”, Norm shouted but Ron wasn’t listening and was now entering his community house. Something had built in him - an anger, a frustration. He wanted to kick or hit something but instead gritted his teeth together and ran to his forge. It had to work!
Once arrived he saw the firelance still laying on the table as he had left it. He picked it up together with a coal bucket full of ember, a small cup with the dark powder and one with a few led balls. Thus armed he hastily ran around and behind his workshop to where the wooden plank with the metal on it sat. He put the lance on the ground, added the powder, the ball in a separate chamber and then finished with a tong for a small piece of ember which he carefully set in an opened hatch near the hole in which he had filled the powder. With all the patience he could muster given his state, he picked up the weapon, laid it - how it was meant to be - on his shoulders and aimed.
Thoughts ran through his head, such as how he should be more afraid and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice reminded him he was being reckless to experiment in his current condition. But there was no time, no patience, no need for these concerns. He aimed and then moved the right handle forward.
The hatch at the back of the weapon shut, the embers drove into the powder. There was a bang, smoke everywhere. It was like someone had hit with a sledgehammer against the front of the barrel. He almost lost control over it. His arms hurt.
Slowly the smoke cleared.
Norm squinted. The metal plate and wood were gone. They laid a bit further on the ground. He carefully but hastily dropped the lance and ran over. A led bullet had made its way through the metal and bulged the wood at the backside. A smoldering hole remained where the led ball had entered.
The man with the monocular and green clothing lay on his belly hidden in the bushes on the hill behind the mill, watching a small crowd of people gather around the forge where a loud noise had captured his attention. Something strange had been happening there. As he wandered with his gaze over the crowd he looked down the street and then a little bit further up and down. And there, at the horizon against the setting sun, he saw shadows - many shadows. The man set down his monocular, smiled and crawled, retreated into the bushes.
A group of people had gathered around Norm who had made his way back to inspect the lance.
“What was that?”, inquired one of the farmer boys, Gallec.
Norm smiled. For a moment he let himself be distracted. For a moment he allowed himself to feel the weight that had just been removed from his shoulders by such a fortunate turn of events. How was it possible that the weapon had worked on its first test and with such success? What more was possible?
He picked it back up, looked through its barrel, inspecting the residue of powder on the chamber.
“This, dear Gallec, is a firelance!”, he proclaimed without hiding his smile. “And it will come in very handy when we have to leave and get some gold where ever we might arrive!”
He shouldered his creation. Then he noticed disturbed faces.
“We are leaving?”, Gallec asked. A general unease spread through the crowd.
“Yes … I … maybe - I think - it's being considered …”
More unease but now Norm felt the back of the crowd had spotted something. Many began to intersperse - everyone started to turn and look down the road towards the place where the sun was setting. He too followed them and indeed: There were riders.
Many riders. And men marching in columns on foot. Some of the villagers who had just stood in a circle started running towards the community houses but most stood and watched as slowly the shadows drew closer on the village community opposite the temple.
As they drew closer Norm became more an more certain: They were soldiers.
Play here to listen to Chapter I
Soldiers
The Soldiers drew nearer. Now most of the village had left their houses and slowly came together to form a crowd around the well in front of the temple. Some Almajiri had joined the crowd and nervously held their hands over their swords and spears.
Nobody talked, nobody walked away as the caravan drew nearer. Then, somewhere amongst the rank a few soldiers slowly lifted two banners. One of their unit and one of their king. Whispers went through the crowd as those with sharp eyes spotted them. Slowly the villagers started to talk and then move forwards. Some started cheering. Norm squinted to see the labels on the flags but wasn’t sure of the meaning. He leaned the invention against the wall of the forge, then walked through the crowd looking for Tren who had taken up position not too far from the house of the lords.
“What do the symbols mean?”, Norm inquired, slightly out of breath.
“Safety!” Tren smiled. “For all my flaws it appears the human community has sent deliverance! You see Tren: The fifth Xandorian Regiment of King Orvyn. They must have come from Yarro or Alleira and are on their way to the front. I am sure, they will deal with any warbands. We might travel with them - we will see! This is a good sign, yes, yes!”
Norm looked at Tren who smiled across his whole face. It reminded Norm of how he felt when the firelance had turned out to be an instant success.
Now the first line of horses entered. The whole track started to make a circle around the well and stopp before the temple. Tren sprang into action and ran to the steps where Ilana was already greeting the first members of the vanguard.
Norm staid, watching Ilana interact with the strangers. Something in his stomach immediately cramped together - the kind that reminds you of your previous blissful unawareness of a persisting issue you had chosen to ignore. But this time he knew what to do. He of course had failed to leave the village but not only were they safe now, he also had a further idea which could make everything much, much better - and then he would talk to her and he would say “sorry” and it would all be back to normal.
But first he needed to see what was going on and if his plan would come together. So he went over to where he could hear Tren talk to the vanguard. The vanguard soldiers were wearing heavy armor whilst the rest of the caravan, wearing light metal or standard issued textile. The convoy was huge - it must have been 250 combatants easily and even more logistic vehicles, oxens with carts and there was even a dragonrider somewhere in the sky circling their position. Norm could see her every now then in the sky behind the roofs of the courtyard making her scouting flights.
Tren and Ilana had clearly asked the soldiers to stay which seemed to have been their intention. Soon a man with an artfully designed armor stepped through the ranks escorted by six swordsmen with huge one and a half meter shields. He stepped up to Tren and Tren saluted. Then they started talking silently with each other. Both nodded after the one had spoken and eventually they exchanged salutes and the commander told something to a man to the right who then stepped on a pillbox and shouted:
“Notice to the village of Acrenod: Please do not leave your houses by nightfall. 5th Regiment: We will stay for 7 hours with 2 hours construction and 2 hours deconstruction. First Century is on guard duty. Second and third Century on fortification duty. All Genronn Cordinates march reports to headquarter once everything is set up. Wagon fort around the city center. Command tent close to the temple …”
The man kept shouting commands whilst Norm used the moment to sneak up to Tren.
“They are staying? The fella you talked to was their commander?”
Tren nodded. “The man I just talked to is the Xandorian Cordenate Wymond who commands this little army here which is referred to as the fifth regiment of King Orvyn. They were stationed in Larao at the beginning of the war from where they are now being repositioned. They have not told me where they will be moving next - possibly Catera, or Talinelad or Duraan - who knows. But they will be here for the night and I will ask them if we can accompany them as soon as we are set up!”
Norm frowned.
“This way we would need to pack everything tonight and leave?”
“I will first talk with him. For tonight we are safe. It's a good Omen. The community is strong!”
Tren marched off, clearly in good spirits. Only Norm was left.
He made his way through the mass of villagers that now chatted lively with a few of the soldiers of the 4th Century who were not assigned to build duty. Around the village carts of supplies were drawn into place and smaller tent like structures started springing up everywhere within the time he had talked to Tren.
Eventually he stood in front of the forge. For a moment he stared at the lance leaned against the wall. Then he picked it up and sat down on the anvil that stood outside under a small roof. From where he saw how guards were assigned and the command tent was built around the Xandorian and Genronn Cordenates who were standing around a small table-like wagon with a few maps and papers. The dragon now drew in closer and some men and women in official uniforms shooed away some of the villagers to make space for the landing. The beast set down right aside the temple and shrieked, shaking its neck and looking at the frightened crowd like it was aware of the impact it had on everyone around. The two riders sat down and came walking over to the now almost completed command tent where the command staff convened.
Norm decided to stay a little longer … and then he would try it: He would talk to the Xandorian about his invention. Surely there was gold in it - enough for the whole village. Nervously he looked down the long neck of the lance and thought a moment. Then an idea came to his mind and he smiled. He started walking up and down in the forge. A plan of how he would sell his invention started to form in his mind.
Play here to listen to Chapter VII
The Pitch
“Shouldn’t we first ask if we can join them on their way, to wherever?”, Tren suggested.
“No. I think, it's best if we show him the weapon first. Maybe we can use it as a pretext to escort us out!”
“Unlikely!”, Tren remarked. “Wouldn’t they be interested in just giving you an escort?”
“I could demand for the whole village to follow!”
Tren thought about it for a moment and shrugged his shoulders.
“Let’s just not waste his time!”
The tent entrance was opened and the Genronns walked out, lively chatting with each other. Then it closed again. It staid closed for a few moments until, finally, a guardswomen opened it from the inside and signaled them to come inside. The darkness had now fallen all across the village and among the houses fires were lit. Tren had seen Ilana and Tariana move to the community house a little while ago. He hoped to return soon with good news. And now was the time to make that happen.
He and Tren looked at each other, nervously, then they stepped in.
The interior of the tent was very sparsely decorated with just the small wagon as a rudamentary table, a bigger chest and a box bed. Norm had imagined it to be more luxurious. At the end of the table stood the Xandorian Wymond and quietly whispered something in conversation with his guards. Norm and Tren stood and waited for him to finish for a while. Then he was finally done and moved his attention to his visitors. His age was hard to guess. He looked a fourty-year-old but his mannerisms seemed to suggest he had seen more than most. His uniform was of the dark red-orange and black that characterized the northern Immortal Kingdom Legions.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”, he begun. “I heard you needed to talk to me. I am sure we can discuss village logistics. The expenditure of edibles I thought we might regulate from here for example before it's all traded away.”
Tren nodded. “Certainly. But actually we are here because of two other matters.”
He pointed towards the firelance that Norm held in a tight embrace.
“I have seen it when we entered the village and admit, I am intrigued.” The Xandorian smiled. “Is it a weapon? It looks a bit heavy, doesn’t it?”
“Yes - the design is very much a work in progress … one is actually not supposed to use it as a lance!”
“You show me this because …”
“I thought you might know where I could sell it or if it would be possible to sell it at all?”
Xandorian nodded.
“I will have a look but I can not take it off you - you will have to go to the headquarters in one of the cities in which there is an army command!”
It wasn’t clear to Norm why he thought the Xandorian would have just bought it off of him like one might buy fruit at a market place. But he buried his frustration - telling Ilana the Xandorian approved of the invention and deemed it worth something where ever they might go after this was better than nothing - maybe it was enough.
“That would be a good thing!” Norm nodded. “The Lance is simple. It is a long ranged weapon - the exact range still needs to be tested. This is also a very early model - the later one’s will be simpler and probably lighter as we optimize the materials. I also intend to find a better reload mechanism. It can punch through iron armor using a powder I acquired which possesses special incendiary qualities. I have called it brown powder for the lack of a better name. We should possibly test it outside in the field away from most people!”
The Xandorian looked at them, the lance and then back at them.
“I can not really leave the camp, you see!”, he explained.
Norm nodded.
“Then you will have to see the demonstration tomorrow by good light?”
“I will! Ranged weapons that punch through iron armor might be of great use to Orvyn’s armed forces. Of course if it would show promise it might be at least in the interest of the army to acquire the invention. If it is not developed it at least does not fall into the hands of the enemy. As we can not test it now, we will discuss the matter in detail tomorrow?”
Unsure of how to feel Norm nodded, picked up the lance and took a step back. At least he would have it looked at tomorrow. And the Xandorian had said there was a promise in it - if it did what he already had seen it could. But he had hoped for more - in his mind the Xandorian would have been impressed by the imagination and craftsmen ship that had gone into the design, demanded it to be tested immediately and rich reward paid out after a successful demonstration. This had been naive, he now understood.
“One more concern!” Tren stepped forward. The Xandorian nodded in approval.
“We were very relieved to see the Legion reach us. We had feared that a warparty that earlier had slain one of our armed scout units - one of two - would find the village and do as they pleased. We wanted to ask if it is possible to stay with the caravan until the next town or castle?”
Wymonds face darkened. He sighed and slowly shook his head.
“I really only can commit to an answer tomorrow morning!”
He said it as if he wanted to end the conversation immediately.
Norm and Tren exchanged glances.
“Is there anything we might be able to do until tomorrow to help the decision?” Tren asked carefully.
But the Xandorian seemed absent. He pressed his finger against the lips as if to signal for silence. Norm and Tren stood silently - unsure of what was happening. Then they heard it.
Somewhere outside a crossbow bolt hit wood. Through the thin wall of the tent they could hear running, now commands - then a volley of arrows hitting and sticking in the ground. The Xandorian lifted his head, then he nodded. He took his saber which had previously lain on the table and ran past the two villagers.
Tren and Norm looked at each other, then they unfroze and Tren drew his sword and followed the commander.
Play here to listen to Chapter VIII
The Choice
Norm followed Tren over the flat grassy plane that led over from behind the temple to the market plaza. His senses were heightend. Over the village flew something small that burned and immitted smoke and vast amounts of red light - surely a magical excavation from one of the Murr caves. The ground over which he ran threw shadows on every small bump and he could see every single grass straw in his attempt to make sure not to stumble as he ran - in one hand the ember bucket and over the shoulder the heavy firelance. He knew where he needed to go and so he did not look much left nor right although it did not escape him that all the soldiers from their regiment were up in arms and fighting - a few inside the village itself - but most on the wagon barricades that had been put in place. In the center a small wagon circle had been established and a few soldiers who stood around it with heavy shields, swords and crossbows were urging the villagers to gather there. He spotted some of the Genronns shouting orders and a bit further away he could see the dragonriders drop iron darts into the shadows. Somehow royal soldiers had made it up on the roofs of the temple and the house of the lords from where they fired their crossbows. To his left a group of peculiar figures had made it through the ring. They were hooded in black cloaks and he would not have seen them if it were not for the torches they carried. As he was running towards the crossing he saw them on his right running up to the Forge. He stopped, almost tripped over. Tren noticed him.
“Norm! Come with. Now!”
An eternal moment it seemed - he looked at the forge down the small road to his right and the men with the torches running towards it. The left way went down to the community house - the right to the forge. He made a decision.
“I am here!” he shouted to Tren, picking up speed. Tren turned and ran left and Norm followed. Through the gate they could see into the courtyard. There he saw them: A few villagers, Ilana and Tariana. They had come together in a small huddle around the center tree. A surge of relieve. They were here, both of them.
“Everyone, there is protection zone in the middle of the village. Follow me, we are going!”, shouted Tren. Everyone stood up. Ilana took Tariana by the hand. Norm’s and Ilanas gaze met. He nodded, Ilana closed up to him as he turned they began to run.
They came around the corner of the community house. There he could see the Forge in flames. There was no feeling in him - it was unreal. He focused on his breath, then reminded himself to look behind him and wait up for his daughter and the elders from the village.
When he turned back around he saw that Tren had stopped. In front of them between the protection parameter they saw three heavily armored swordsmen fighting and stab two royal crossbowmen. Their blood splashes were visible against the fire as they fell to the ground with terrible screams. Whilst two of the armored soldiers finished the job properly, the third looked towards them, then closed his armor sight.
Without spending a second to think deeper into it, Norm fell to his knees, rolling the lance from his shoulder, controlling it with his hands. It was not a soft landing but there was no time. The tong had gone missing but he didn’t care. He grabbed some ember with his bare hands. Ignoring the pain he put it into the small slot at the weapons side. Without having looked he stood up, shouldered the lance and aimed … at the soldier right in front of him. Tren lay on the ground with his sword protectively stretched out over his head. The man in front of him raised his weapon.
Norm pushed the slider.
Smoke, a powerful blow. He almost lost balance. Through the smoke he could see the other two enemy soldiers looking at their fallen comrade. Norm looked down at the body with a huge smoking gap in his chest. He looked up and took aim. There was no further bullet or powder in the chambers. But they didn’t know. For a moment the two armored soldiers stood there, frozen. But when Norm pulled back the slider, they turned and started to run the opposite direction and disappeared behind some of the carriages.
Tren made it back to his feat. He walked over to the men on the ground with a gap in his chest and with easy of veteran slit the mans throat. Without a word Tren turned and continued to run towards the protection zone.
A few dead bodies had already accumulated around the protection zone. But the armored soldiers with the shields defending it were still around and so - it seemed - was all of the village which had made its way into the small circle. They sat crouched on the ground between and under the wagons, wincing every time arrows hit nearby or one of the wagons.
Norm kneeled down and put the firelance aside. Next to him Ilana and Tariana sat down. The little girl was shaking, so he put his arm around her as she crawled into his lap and shut her ears. Ilana leaned against him. His heart was pounding but something in him had found a moment of clarity. As he was carefully holding his family, he had come to a final conclusion.
Play here to listen to Chapter IX
Legacy
His hands were still darkened from the earth he had moved. He had buried a part of him under the Falgon tree where his ambition to create a legacy had been conceived.
As he walked over the plaza in the center of the village he could see Tren argue with the Xandorian. “You knew all along? You were setting a trap and we were the bait!”
“You have to understand - I couldn’t tell you because it would have given it away!”, Wymond protested.
“This is why you created the wagon wall and slept in a simple tent?”
“Look!” Wymond did his best to try and appease Tren but sofar he was not doing a good job. “We have taken out the vanguard of the 5th Murr Devision. That is what we came for and now I can promise you: We will escort you to the next city!”
Tren thought for a moment but then eventually his facial expressions became a bit milder - just when Norm joined them.
“I may accept that. Where are you headed?”
“Back to Alleira - which is great - a good bit away from the frontlines. Well protected because the Immortal Kingdoms need it for war shipments from Yarro, Quesador and Larao.”
“Deal!” Tren smiled and reached out for a handshake. But the Xandorian simply saluted and then turned. Before he left though he saw Norm.
“I spotted this morning a dead Murr soldier with a gap in his chestplate. I think army headquarters would be interested in your invention!”
Norm smiled. “I am grateful but it seems like it has gotten lost in battle.”
“Lost?”, the Xandorian inquired surprised and in disbelief.
But Norm just pointed towards the still smoldering ashes of his forge. Tren and the Xandorian both looked at it for a moment.
“Well …”, Wymond said, eventually. “For what it’s worth it's here, in your head still, correct? So it is not entirely lost!”
Norm nodded but said nothing.
“I am sure,” Wymond continued, “that such a bright mind will find a way out . Now if you will excuse me, I have a tactical retreat to prepare!”
He saluted and marched off.
Norm and Tren exchanged conspiratorial glances.
“Is it lost for good?”, Tren inquired.
“As long as nobody decides to dig out the roots of that Falgon tree!”, Norm replied.
Tren nodded. Then he patted Norm on the back and they walked towards the temple where a small field hospital had been set up. Before they reached it, Ron intercepted them.
“Hey you two. Ehm, Norm: Take care of your daughter, she has been asking for you all this time, okay? And when you have a moment! Ehm … just wanted to say thanks for escorting grandma to the protection zone!” Norm shrugged, Tren smiled. “Oh sure, I hope old Clover is doing alright?”
“Sure she is, except for all the memories she now has to suffer. It’s not well on her!”
Tren nodded. “She’s not alone with that. Sent her to Ilana when she has a spare moment. Take care of her, yes?”
“Of course”, Ron replied. Then he quickly glanced over to Norm. “Have you …”
Norm nodded.
“Good!” Ron smiled. Then he hurried off.
Norm and Tren looked at each other again. Tren shook his head. “Man, good ol’ Ron!”
They sat down on the stairs for a moment where they could see the field hospital. Norm began after a moment of blank stares into the void.
“I don’t know how to deal with it!” Tren looked at him, then shook his head.
“I don’t think of it like that - I was the one who killed him. You just defended the people behind you!”
Norm looked to the ground.
“You know - its more that I think I will spent the rest of my life making nails, barrels and decor.”
“Well …” Tren picked up a straw and balanced it in his mouth. “I don’t blame you. All the better that you buried that weapon!”
“All this time I thought … but then - imagine the sheer potential of it …”
There was a moment of silence.
“But … now you buried it and that was the right move. And everything ended up just fine!”
“Mostly because of sheer, stupid, dumb luck!”
Tren giggled, then nodded. Norm shook his head and looked over. There was Ilana tending to one of the dying, talking to her intimately.
“Yeah, that's about right.” Tren continued. “Was time we’d grow up! So now, duty calls, off to see your daughter … who I heard has a new hero. You know!” Tren sat up straight. “In a way your legacy was not what you did but what you didn’t do!”
Norm smiled. “Already becoming the Elder?”
Tren laughed and boxed his old friend. But Norm just looked over to Ilana. For the first time in weeks he searched for her eyes and when they eventually met, she smiled.
The End
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