FREE STORIES 2012(27)

He continued. "The only way to better the time is over the Pass of Jagai. Once through, and the Shang can be avoided by a good man, the levy can be raised by the time the Shang reach here. We could easily catch them here. And there is only one man who knows the pass, me."

Lyulf sat and never spoke. All there knew his concern. Asgalt had been a close friend and advisor to his father, indeed, he was responsible for his father gaining back the throne after the rebellion. But Asgalt had aged, and the journey he spoke of so easily was hard on even a much younger man, and the Shang were out in force.

In the end it was Colwen who forced the issue. "Sire, the Duke is right. 'Tis the only chance that we have! The course of action is plain. You leave at once taking the long road, and Asgalt leaves, for the Pass."

Lyulf nodded in final agreement. He looked at Asgalt and his face softened. "Have a care, Old Warrior. Remember that a young king still needs old friends."

The Duke grinned back at him, and for a moment his hard, craggy face looked boyish.

"Old? Ask that young guardsman. He thought I was old . . . but his back and shoulder will tell him different this night."

"Then take him with you. He looked tough as boot leather."

Asgalt ruefully answered, "He is."

***

The morning sun had not yet risen as the King and Duke Glaun watched Asgalt and Flan ride from the castle.

The King shook his head in fear, and spoke to his companion. "'Tis a fear good Duke that we may not see Asgalt again. Strange, that yet again the fate of this land rests on the shoulders of an outlander."

Colwen nodded his agreement. "There are no stronger ones for it to rest on." He paused, then continued. "He seemed more than merely eager to go. Is it that he fears his age, or is it his hatred for the Shang?"

***

The morning fog had lifted and now the sun shone warm. They rode at a steady pace, rarely speaking, each in his own thoughts. At noon they dismounted for a quick meal, and to walk the horses. Flan, the guardsman, was a tall youth, wide and rangy in appearance, with jet black hair and matching eyes. He eyed the Duke, then spoke.

"Tell me, Your Grace. How is it that a chief of the Haga Hai becomes a Duke of Lyvane?"

"That, lad, would take some telling. I'm not a Haga Hai, but a Birkit. I joined one of their raiding parties to settle a personal score against the Shang. Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up as Chief. It was a good life, all the Haga Hai want to do is drink and fight. I'd probably be there still, but a Shang raiding party hit us one night. They killed everyone but me. They planned on strangling me, then stuffing the carcass." He chuckled. "That was a mistake. I broke loose, killed a few more.

"I wandered a few years, then ended up in Lyvane serving in the Army. It was at Iron Mountain that I met Old Lyulf. The line broke, and it was clear that the rebels were winning, so when the whole army broke and ran, I tried to stay alive. Couple of days later I came on a man trying to fight four of the rebels and protect a boy. I killed the rebels, and the man followed me." He laughed outright. "It was a damn month before I found out it was the King. Old Lyulf was a cagey devil."

His mind drifted back over the years, and he spoke in a low reverie, forgetting he had an audience, talking more to himself than to Flan.

"Five years we wandered and fought. Hiding out in hills and caves and with a few loyal to the Crown. Finally we had an army, and we caught Morgaun at Whitewater Flats. What a battle that was! I killed Morgaun, damn well cut him near in half! But enough of me. How is it that a man of Lyvale ends up in Lyvane?"

Flan smiled. "Not much to tell, Your Grace. The wanderlust that hits many a young son of a poor farmer. I roamed awhile, tried the sea, but my stomach didn't care for it. I fought with Lord Conlenach, was with him at Colnar Ridge. Got away, wandered a bit more, then ended up in Glaun. The Duke hired me," he then added with a smile. "He was impressed with my wrestling!"

Asgalt laughed, a full-throated bellow. "I knew that old devil was trying to set me up! And he damn near did. You almost had me, but I tricked you. You wrestle well; all you lack is age and experience."

"Next time, Your Grace, I'll try not to be tricked."

They continued on, and soon the land began to change. The rolling hills gave way to open woodland, and this in turn to lowlands, with rich and fertile valleys. This was beautiful land, but now the beauty was marred by signs of war; burnt farms, scattered livestock, and whole villages put to the sword. The occasional stink of death they encountered as they passed a burnt-out steading soon gave way to a horrible stench, that filled the air and seemed to get into their very pores. Death was all about them.