The Three Kings

by Slawomir Rapala

Chapter 1: Troubled Tides

part 5 of 5

Overall, the regular army of Lyons consisted of sixteen thousand men divided into thirty-two armed legions: eighteen infantry, eight cavalry and six bow and crossbow wielders. Four of the largest infantry legions numbered one thousand warriors each and the rest varied in size, bringing the number up to sixteen thousand.

Eight legions were currently serving in Biyack, helping to maintain peace on its Northern borders. The core of the Lyonese army, however, was the Order of the Northern Wolves that numbered five thousand men, bringing the total to twenty-one thousand.

Each of the Wolves, however, was said to be worth ten soldiers. They were fierce warriors of exceptional ability who trained from boyhood, readying themselves for the harsh and brutal world of war. They were known throughout the world as the finest warriors of the North, the only ones capable of withstanding the fury of the Vikings and the relentlessness of the organized corpses of Biyack

Right now, two of them stood behind the Duke and would serve as their escort on the trip to Uaal. Iskald looked at them with awe: both men were enormous and armed to the teeth. Iskald could think of no higher honor than becoming one of them. As Vahan’s son and the future Duke of Lyons, however, he would lead them in time, but would never be one of them.

“I see you’re all ready to go. We can leave then,” The Duke remarked.

“I thought we were to leave at noon,” protested Iskald. “I still wanted to take Ruppé out for a bit before we go.”

“Change of plans,” that was all Vahan said in return, and the boy realized he was not going to get much more than that. He knew that arguing with his father was absolutely pointless.

“Saddle up my horse!” Vahan turned to the stable boy who materialized beside them. The boy gave a short bow and then disappeared for a short while to come back with Vahan’s horse ready for travel. The stable boy led him out into the square and over to the gateway. Iskald followed with Ruppé, with Vahan and his guards trailing him.

Both steeds were impatient; they turned their heads towards their masters, neighed softly and tried to walk faster. Because of the uncommon heat waves visiting Lyons following the harsh winter, the horses were kept inside more than usual and they were now anxious to taste more freedom.

Just as Iskald mounted the saddle, Aezubah appeared. He looked surprised to see the company all ready to go. His tall forehead creased with concern as he approached.

“You’re leaving earlier than previously planned, my Lord?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“That’s right,” Vahan replied from the top of his horse. “I changed my mind and I don’t want to spend the night in Uaal. The thought of the Tha-kians just won’t leave me at peace. The sooner we leave the sooner we’ll be back and I want to make it before nightfall. The forests are full of predators and gods know what else so it’s not that safe to travel by night.”

“Should I go with you in that case?”

“No need, I’m taking two of the Wolves. Anyway, I want you to stay here and make sure that everything is done like I told you.”

“Anybody can do that,” Aezubah pressed. “All I have to do is pass the orders on to them and that’s it.”

Vahan looked keenly at the old man and thought for a while. “I would let Youssef handle it, but I haven’t seen him yet today.”

The General scowled when he heard the Duke’s remark. He never liked the commander of the guards and had never completely trusted him. It was enough that Youssef was a hired warrior, one of those capable of anything if he was offered enough gold, and that he was Biyackian.

The old man had his reasons not to be fond of the ancient Realm where he had once spent time in the dungeons, the King of which had sworn him vengeance for the massacre of Reele and had pursued him using dark magic for whole decades now. It was a dark period of his life and Aezubah did not like to go back to it too often.

Having grown cautious in the last several years, the aging warrior now briefly wondered where Youssef was hiding. Usually at this time he was wandering throughout the castle more than often going back into his quarters to have another long drink of wine.

“Come on, old man, you know I don’t trust anyone as much as you,” the Duke argued. “Youssef’s a bit of a freeloader anyway, I ought to get rid of him soon. Even if he was here, I’d still want you to stay.”

The veteran stood undecided. Vahan looked at him closely and with renewed curiosity. “What’s on your mind, old man? Why do you suddenly want to come along?”

Aezubah looked over and above his head, pretending to find something interesting up in the blue sky. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t want to go at all.”

“So why are you wasting my time?” Vahan grumbled.

“I wish you weren’t going either, but I know you will anyway, regardless of my warnings, so that’s why I’d like to come along; to keep eye over you and Iskald.”

“Is there a reason why you think we might need more protection?” Vahan gave him a sharp look.

“I don’t like this,” Aezubah dug his hands into the pockets of his britches. “With the Tha-kians slithering around our coasts, it’s just not a good day to leave the safety of the palace. I don’t like it, that’s all.”

Vahan raised his brows and bellowed with laughter: “You’re talking nonsense, old man!”

Having voiced his opinion in this manner, the Duke tugged on the reins and turned his horse towards the gate leading out of the comfortable safety of the Jewel. Aezubah quickly turned to Iskald, who stood nearby startled by the strange conversation.

The boy leaned in from his horse when the elderly man approached. “What was that all about?” he asked. “What’s on your mind?”

“Listen to me, Iskald” Aezubah said quietly. “Don’t go today, don’t go, all right?”

“Why not?” it was Iskald’s turn to scowl.

“I already told you, I don’t feel right about his,” Aezubah shrugged his shoulders with impatience. “It would be much better if you didn’t go, is all.”

“You really are getting old, Aezubah!” Iskald laughed much like Vahan did before. “How could I miss a chance to visit my mother? No, I have to go!”

The General suddenly grabbed Ruppé by the reins and lowering his voice to a whisper, he said slowly, keeping his keen blue eyes fixed on the boy:

“Listen to me. When I was putting your things away in the armoury, an arrow slipped out of the quiver, I stepped on it and it broke in two.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything? Let go of my horse!”

“A broken arrow means war. It’s a bad omen. A very bad omen.”

Iskald finally managed to free his horse from Aezubah’s grip.

“Just listen to yourself sometimes, old man! You really do talk nonsense!”

Aezubah sighed heavily seeing that he would not succeed in convincing the boy. “If you have to go, then go,” he said. “But at least take more guards.”

“Father says two will be enough and I think so too. Besides, if we’re leaving now, that means we’ll be back before nightfall. And what can happen during the day?”

Finally free of Aezubah’s powerful grip, Iskald squeezed Ruppé’s sides with his knees and urged him to follow Vahan and the two Wolves who had already crossed the square and were just leaving through the gate. The boy quickly caught up with them and pulled on the reins, skilfully slowing his steed to match the measured pace of the group.

The small company left the Jewel and began their descent towards the forest at the base of the slope. Iskald looked back for the last time and noted that the General had remained in place. The boy lifted his hand and waved to the old man, but received no response. He shrugged and turned his attention forward.

Aezubah, in the meantime, looked after the small group of riders wondering whether or not he did the right thing by letting them off alone, despite the fact that his instincts urged him to keep them in the Jewel or to accompany them, in the very least.

The General felt something terrible hanging in the air. Something was not right about this day, seemingly peaceful and serene. Years of struggle for survival enabled Aezubah to sense things others could not: a smell of foul play, a hidden trap or a treacherous road. Over the years he had learned to trust his senses and now they told him that the two people he cared most about in the whole world were in danger.

Every fabric of his being told him so.

To be continued...