The Book of the Winds

Chapter 2
Whither the Winding Road

Phaeron and his companions for the evening reached the hamlet that was Balric's village just after dusk. People were returning from their diurnal occupations and, soon word spread of a royal stranger, a prince perhaps, walking with Balric to his place. There were gawkers aplenty and Phaeron soon felt uncomfortable under the shifty glances they bestowed on him. I have my sword, he thought, but what can I do against so many? I only hope they know their duty to the Emperor.

Of course he need not have worried: those who would slit throats rarely look their victims in the face. It was a short walk to the blacksmith's house through the neat rows of thatched houses that seemed to him to belong to an earlier and more barbarous age. He was surprised to see very little greenery in the hamlet situated in the heart of the great forests - nature had yielded to the destroying hands of a crude civilization and it would require culture and luxury to bring back the trees and birds and tamed nature to where they had been displaced from. The house was built adjacent to Balric's forge and Phaeron's horse was tethered to a short stump outside it. He saw little of the forge but it seemed so insignificant compared to the great fires that roared all day in the great Alley of the Smiths in the capital. What little work the village provided sufficed for Balric, for the villagers grew their own vegetables and hunted their own meat. Money was not a necessity in this remote hamlet, life and death persisted in spite of it.

The house was not a big affair either but Phaeron felt much safer within the confines of its walls away from prying eyes. The women soon occupied themselves with dinner and Balric attended to his forge, leaving Phaeron to amuse himself as best as he could. There was not much of notice in the dank, dirty, ill-furnished place and Phaeron was tired. He had no wish too to step outside into the chill air where there might still lurk a curious, hardy, imbecile soul or two. In the matter of minutes, he fell asleep, oblivious to the clanging of the pans and pots in the kitchen and the sound of the hammer on the anvil.

It is not an easy task to fall asleep on an uncomfortable stool and the physical discomfort disturbed Phaeron's dreams. He saw strange, wonderful things, frightening visions of dragons spewing fire over his home and blood and gore in the grand royal gardens in the capital. The princess, beautiful and elegant generally, was fighting a grim battle with a knight in black armour over the prostrate body of the king's, even as Phaeron rushed in headlong to save her. There was the Prime Mnister too, who seemed to be smirking even as blow after blow fell over his son's brows. And then the scroll he was carrying even now, appeared out of nowhere and its words were blazoned over the city walls in hues of blood: "Fear the wrath of the swift sword that waits not for slow justice; the Council of the Fifty is ready to meet." Strange words, words from a legend long forgotten, but what about the scroll, was it safe?

And he woke up with a start to see Amara looking curiously at him. Her eyes twinkled merrily even as she traipsed away blushing fairy-like to attend to some imaginary chore. Flit on cheering angel, nurse and balm to a bitter heart's dreams, he mused over her vanished form. It has been long now since I felt such fair hope, long since I wanted to be happy. There is but little left of youth in my heart but a long ways to go before my shoulders will tire of the burdens people will impose on them. This scroll, ah the scroll, it is safe now, I did not ask for it and I do not know what it means to me. But there is Amara now, kneading the dough and stirring the pot and I feel a stirring in my own heart.

Night had come swiftly while he slept, and, after a simple dinner of bread, broth and a jug of light beer, attended by the inquisitive questions Meara posed of life in the capital and the Far East, they all retired - the host family preferring to lie on the ground in the outer room, resigning to Phaeron the privacy and comfort of the inner bedroom. Inspite of the short nap he had had only a couple of hours earlier, Phaeron soon fell into a dreamless sleep but it was not destined to last long.

In the middle of the night, a shrill piercing sound woke him: the cry of a damsel, Amara maybe, in distress. Even as he tried to collect his senses, he saw that the house was ablaze and there was a clangor of arms outside, men and women shouting, and children and girls screaming. Balric, he realised as he crossed out into the courtyard with drawn sword, was already outside, hacking at the attackers with might and main. A dreadful little scene unfolded to Phaeron as he saw a sizeable number of horsemen, slowly and surely pushing the villagers back, breaking their resistance to pieces with their trained swordsmanship. He joined the small band of defenders but they could do little even as small bands of the attackers broke away to loot what they could from the burning houses. Just as Phaeron felt they should all be cut down mercilessly, a gruff voice from among the leaders shouted an order for retreat and the horsemen left just as suddenly as they had come.

Seeing the battle was over, the men ran to put out the fires that threatened to destroy the entire hamlet. Women and children were already busy throwing pails of water over the burning thatches, and dragging out of the conflagration the few articles of value that they possessed. Phaeron remembered the scroll and ran into the room he had slept in but it had been ransacked. He understood that this was no random attack and that the horsemen had come for the scroll. His horse too had escaped in the melee, shod in Balric's new shoe. Embittered and angry, he found that Balric and Meara had lost more than he had: the horsemen had kidnapped their daughter.

In less than an hour, the fire was put out and there was calm once more in the smouldering remains of the village. The men and women gathered near Balric's place and there was a general wailing and railing as people tried to come to terms with the dreadful and unprovoked assault on their peaceful lives. "Who were they," Phaeron asked Balric, even as they wiped the blood and sweat off their face after the heavy toil, "And what were they after?" He was not about to mention the scroll to him but he needed to get to them and retrieve the scroll by any means possible. "I dont know, milord," replied Balric, evasively, "I have heard of the robber-lords of the Northern Mountains, who pillage the villages around the Great Forest. But what they would want here, I have no idea." "Oh we knew, Balric, when the lordly stranger came among us that trouble was sure to follow. Dont ye know these are after the royal tribe - they have sworn dread oaths to kill anyone from the royal family," muttered one of the young men. "Shut up you Oric, master fool and village jester, this is no place nor time for your bitterness," retorted Balric, "I have lost more than you have but I wouldn't snivel like a girl." "Be strong all you want, man, but mark my words: this is not the end of our troubles," said Oric,darkly, "There is not going to be much happiness or peace from today." "Forget his words, milord, he has ideas above his station," Balric said to Phaeron loudly. He then addressed the general assembly, "Men and women, we haven't seen battle and death for some time now but that doesn't make us children. We have fought before and now I think we need to fight again. Let us get ready with our swords and axes and shields and helmets. I have been your leader for so long but now I have to leave. So I suggest you take Groth as your leader - he is wise and brave and will serve you well. In the meantime, I will find my daughter and return to you as soon as I can." Many in the assembly cheered and accepted Groth as leader but they also cried out, "But we will come with you Balric in your search, you shall not go alone," upon which Groth spoke up, "Men and women, I will be your leader while Balric goes after his daughter's kidnappers. I hear your love for Balric but we cannot all go with him. So I propose we send two of our best men with him on this hunt. What say you to this, Balric?" Balric replied, "Two men away from the village makes it two men less secure but I know I cannot do it alone either so I accept your proposal. But who will they be?" As Groth started, "Our best man is Oric, of course and the other man will be..", Phaeron interrupted and said, "I will go with Balric. They have taken something from me too that does not belong to them and I need to get it back for myself. We three can be traveling companions till we get to the bandits and then Balric and Oric will return to you with Amara while I will set off on my way." Balric was reluctant to take the stranger and nobleman with him to the heart of the bandit strongholds but Groth saw the point and it was immediately resolved upon. The villagers decided to give the little they could save from the fire by way of provision to Balric and his companions for the next day. They would have to hunt for themselves as they went deeper into the Great Forests to the foothills of the Northern Mountains.

At dawn, the three men, Balric with his sharp axe, Oric with his singing bow and swift sword, and Phaeron, trained swordsman and royal aide and messenger, set out towards the Northern Mountains on the three best horses the villagers could provide. They went along the same old road Phaeron had crossed with Balric and his family but now he had a purpose more immediate. What it was, he was not sure: was it the scroll or was it Amara that he was after? But now he wanted to get somewhere for a reason all his own, and when they reached the place where the Royal Highway forked, one road leading to the Northern Mountains and the other to the Western Outposts, he looked forward to going along the path he had heard was full of lawless bands of wild men, armed against any royal interference. Deep within the forests, on the long winding road that lay at his feet, inside some bandit stronghold, were Amara and the scroll and he needed to get there fast so he could complete his mission to the West and return to the capital. Or maybe that was not the reason for his hurry.