In the Shadow of Lions - Chapter 4

Starhaven, Kingdom of Sidor

Three weeks after the coronation, William found himself walking up the gangplank of a massive ship, hugging himself tight against the chill winter air. William had thought he’d have more time before his father shipped him off to Lynese, what with ice still floating in the harbor, but a few days ago, Edmund had declared that it was time for him and his Uncle Aldric to get started.

“The Lion’s Prideis the most powerful ship we have,” Aldric said as they ascended the gangplank onto the deck, seeing William looking up at the massive ship. “It was Gavric’s ship. There isn’t anything afloat that can touch us in this.”

“I’m not worried about that,” William said as confidently as he could.

“Ever since we left the palace, you’ve had a look like someone just took the last wyvern out of the coop,” Aldric said, stopping as they reached the deck of the ship and turning William to face him. “If it’s not the journey, what’s troubling you?”

William hesitated, looking down at the deck, “It’s nothing, Uncle. Just nervous about my first time sailing.”

Aldric studied him for a moment before speaking, “Come now, Will. We may not have spent a lot of time together as you grew up, but I know you well enough to know that isn’t what’s bothering you. Something’s weighing on you more than just that.”

With a sigh, William relented, “It’s my father and the way he’s just sending me off. I know he’s wanted me gone for years, and with King Gavric gone, he finally has his chance to get rid of me. I know you said to make the best of it, but it still makes me so mad.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I can’t say anything that will make that feeling go away. The best I can do is try to convince you that this is an opportunity, and suggest you at least try your hardest to pretend that that’s the truth. You’ll be surprised to find that, sometimes, just believing something hard enough will end up making it true.”

“How can I just pretend like he doesn’t hate me, or that this will make any difference? I don’t think, no matter how hard I try, that I can forget how he treats me.”

“I didn’t say forget; that would be asking too much. I guess I’m trying to say you shouldn’t let it rule you. Focusing on your anger toward him only gives him more power over you. Ignore it and focus on what you need to do and do your best at it. I’ve always found the best way to deal with people like your father is to just ignore their games and petty jealousies and try to excel at whatever’s put in front of you. Make him bitter because of your success, instead of you being bitter at his neglect.”

Before William could think of a reply, he was distracted by a tall, broad-shouldered man with blond curly hair and vivid blue eyes walking up to them. William just stared in surprise. Everything about the man, from his stature to his blond hair and blue eyes, to the curving tattoos on his neck identified him as being from Thay. Considering how most people from Sidor, and Lynese for that matter, felt about Thayans and that Thayans tended to return the feelings in equal measure, it was completely baffling why one would be on the Sidorian flagship.

William had never actually met anyone from Thay before, although he had caught glimpses of their delegations during audiences with his Uncle Gavric. Thay was a land of pirates and heretics, and they had little to do with the people of the two other major continents. What he did know about them had mostly come from his tutors.

When the Ancients had fallen in the Cataclysm, their great continent had cracked and ripped apart, forming the three nations of Sidor, Lynese, and Thay, all centered around the Maw. But while Sidor and Lynese had recovered to an extent, Thay had become a barren desert, wrecked by the wild magics unleashed during the sundering of the world. Its people eked out a living on specialized drought-resistant crops and piracy, but mostly piracy.

More worrying, at least to most non-sailors, was their predominant religion. Unlike Sidor and Lynese, who followed the Acolytes in their worship of the Ancients, revering the magical artifacts and history of the past, the Thayans had embraced the Purifiers. This shadowy faith taught that magic had corrupted the world and its remnants must be destroyed to cleanse the land. Considering what magic had done to their homeland, perhaps it was understandable that many Thayans would adopt this belief. But their destruction of some of the most powerful of the artifacts left behind after the fall of magic was seen as a treachery so deep that its sin passed down to later generations of believers. It was a grudge that most people, at least on Sidor, held.

So much so that, three hundred years ago, tensions had erupted into a religious war, one of the only times Sidor and Lynese had allied against a common foe. Ostensibly, it had been over Thayan piracy, but most knew the Purifiers’ agenda had been the real cause. The fact that his ancestor had led the Sidorian armies in that fight was one of the main reasons his family didn’t get more flak for the apparent Thay blood somewhere far back in their line, evident in their blond hair. It made all Whittons stand out from the rest of Sidorians, who mostly had hair in shades of brown and black. The fact that William had light brown hair had always made him stand out from the rest of the family, forever marking him as an outsider in the family.

“William, I’d like you to meet Sergeant Eskild Alsufi,” Aldric said. “He’s been my right-hand man for years and will be assisting us on this campaign.”

Eskild inclined his head respectfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your uncle has told me great things about you, including how good a swordsman you are becoming.”

His accent was thick, like there were too many letters in his mouth and he wasn’t able to get them all out. On top of the surprise that his uncle’s right-hand man was a Thayan, was the fact that Aldric had talked to him about William. Other than the last month or so since Gavric’s death, he and his Uncle Aldric spoke maybe once or twice a year and didn’t have much in the way of a relationship. Which made it surprising that he would tell his right-hand man anything about William, let alone say good things about him.

“I … I hope I can live up to his praise,” he stammered.

“While we’re on campaign, during times when we’re not engaged with the enemy, you’ll be assisting Eskild with his duties. Consider it a chance to learn the intricacies of war firsthand,” he said before lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And if you’re lucky, Eskild may even give you some pointers or spar with you. He’s the finest fighter I’ve ever seen.”

William just looked at the Thayan, still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to discuss our route with the captain,” Aldric said. “The northern seas will still be choked with ice, so we’ll have to plot a careful course. William, use this time to learn a little about what you’ll be doing on the campaign from Eskild. We have at least two weeks until we land in Lynese, so this will be a good time to prepare you for what’s to come.”

“We could always sail around to the Eastern side of Sidor and cut past Thay to the south,” Eskild suggested wryly.

“I think not,” Aldric chuckled, clasping William’s shoulder warmly before heading towards the front of the ship.

William glanced back at the docks of Starhaven, watching the bustling activity as the last supplies were loaded onto the other ships in their fleet and the gangplanks were pulled up in preparation for making sail. Beyond the docks, the white towers and steepled roofs of the capital city rose up, the palace prominently visible on its hilltop perch overlooking the harbor.

“So, how does a Thayan warrior become the right hand of one of Sidor’s dukes?” William asked, turning back to Eskild.

The sergeant smiled, his blond beard crinkling around his mouth, “Your uncle bested me in battle and I became his captive. Aldric can tell a good fighter when he sees one.”

“He captured you? During a raid?”

“I was part of a war band, trying to pillage along Sidor’s eastern coast. We thought the lands north of Shadowhold, where we normally raided, would be easy pickings. But your uncle set a trap and ambushed us in the dead of night. A large number of us were killed, and a dozen or so, including me, ended up in chains.”

“And you were left as a prisoner?”

The Thayan shrugged, “My family didn’t have the means to ransom me back, even if they had wanted to, which they didn’t. I rotted in a dungeon for over a year. But eventually, Aldric realized he could make better use of me, and I was given a choice. Keep wasting away in chains, or pledge my service to him.”

“That must have been difficult, going from captive to this.”

“I don’t think either of us intended for it to happen. I thought it would be an easy way to escape the dungeon and get back home, and join a new war band. I don’t know exactly what he expected, but I don’t think it was this. Over time, though, I saw what kind of man he was; how he treated others, friend and enemy alike. It’s hard not to follow someone like that.”

William glanced back at Starhaven again, watching the waves crash against the sea wall as the Lion’s Pride pushed away from the docks.

“You don’t seem excited,” Eskild observed, watching William. “Most men your age would relish a chance for adventure and glory on the battlefield.”

“It’s not that. I’m not being sent off to war; I’m just being sent away. This has been my father Edmund’s goal for years. Now that my Uncle Gavric is gone, Edmund finally has his chance to get rid of me.”

Eskild cocked his head, frowning, “If your father is so cruel, surely being away from him is not so bad?”

“It’s complicated,” William said. “Part of me is thrilled to escape Edmund’s presence. But it still hurts, knowing how little he cares. I want to prove myself, to show I’m more than he believes.”

Eskild clasped his shoulder, “Your uncle sees potential in you. Focus on that, not your father’s judgments. Use this opportunity to learn from Aldric. He is a good man.”

William shook his head. “That’s what Uncle Aldric said, but I barely know him. He rarely visited court or our duchy when I was growing up. And now, suddenly, he wants to mentor me?”

“Aldric’s absence in your youth was not about you, I don’t think,” Eskild said gently. “Aldric and his brother do not get along, and the few times I was around when both were present, it was clear the hatred went both ways.”

“Why?”

Eskild looked back in Aldric’s direction and then to William, “It’s not really my place to say …”

“Please,” William said, “I promise I won’t tell Aldric you told me. I just want to understand him a little better, now that my future has been put in his hands.”

“Well, as I understand it, many years ago Aldric was courting a woman named Alyssa, who he was deeply in love with. The problem was that Alyssa was the daughter of a very wealthy merchant, and Edmund fancied her as well, although more for her substantial inheritance than her beauty.”

Eskild paused, looked back to Aldric on the other side of the ship a second time, and said, “Edmund apparently pulled many tricks to try and separate them, including paying people to lie and spread rumors to sow distrust. Once, he even tried openly to convince Alyssa to break off with Aldric and marry him instead. But Alyssa stayed true to Aldric, and they were eventually married, despite Edmund’s interference. At the wedding celebration, Edmund said some horrible things to Aldric in his bitterness and jealousy. Things I don’t care to repeat.”

“I had no idea,” William said, thinking of his aunt, who’d always seemed friendly and caring the few times they’d met.

“After that, I heard that Edmund found another woman to marry, presumably your mother. But Aldric never forgave his brother for what he did. I think Alyssa is the only person who hates Edmund more than your uncle.”

William just stared at the deck, deep in thought as he processed this new information. He had completely misjudged his Uncle Aldric. William had thought him distant and uninterested in him, when it turned out he was only estranged from Edmund. He had just been collateral damage from Edmund’s own actions.

“I … I never knew. Aldric never told me any of that.”

“It’s not something he likes to talk about,” Eskild replied. “Understandably so. But know that despite past grievances, I think he cares a great deal for you.”

William glanced back in Aldric’s direction. His uncle stood near the helm of the ship, one foot up on the railing as he conferred with the captain and watched the receding coastline of Sidor.

“Thank you for telling me this,” William said sincerely to Eskild. “It helps me to make sense of things.”

“Of course. Just remember, some wounds run deep. Aldric has his reasons for maintaining distance from court and his brother. Don’t take it personally.”

William nodded. “I won’t. And this stays between us.”

“Good man,” Eskild said, clapping William on the back. “Now, we have a long journey ahead of us. Why don’t I show you around the ship so you can get your bearings? And then maybe you can demonstrate some of this famous swordsmanship I’ve heard about.”

“That would be great,” William said, blushing a little at the clearly unearned compliment.

***

Rooksberry, Ducy of Iron Keep, Kingdom of Sidor

As with any small fishing village, Rooksberry was quiet in the evening. Peaceful. The people there worked hard from sun up to sun down. The men were out in boats catching the fish that both fed the town and brought in what small gold they received, while the wives, children, and elderly worked to prepare the fish for sale further inland. They all repaired nets and boats, and did all of the work needed for a small, fairly isolated little village.

The last days of winter were ending, but this edge of the empire, the northernmost tip of the Duchy of Iron Keep, saw snow and ice late into the season. Most people didn’t think of Iron Keep as a northern duchy, but part of it extended further north than almost half of the Duchy of the Ice Lands, and only a little south of the island nation of Alchmara.

The chilly sea breeze carried the scent of salt and fish, which mingled with the damp odor of decaying wood and seaweed as the flotsam frozen over the winter thawed. For the few villagers still awake at this hour, the rhythmic lull of the waves was the only thing they could hear, the sound broken only by the occasional creak of a hut or a beached fishing boat from the occasional gust of wind.

Even if there had been more than a sliver of moon to light the waters, there wouldn’t have been anyone looking out into the darkened waves to see the small band of longboats appearing out of the darkness, their hulls sliding almost silently onto the rocky beach. Nor was there anyone there to see the large men in their thick padded fur tunics, typical of the Isle of Alchmara, as they hurtled over the sides of their ships, swords and axes in hand.

They broke into small bands of five as they ran towards the huts of the village, each raider carrying an unlit torch wrapped in wax-coated cloth to prevent errant sparks. At the front of the main group, Igoran waved his men forward, his bald head and bushy black beard identifying him even in the darkness. His weathered face was set in hard lines, scarred knuckles gripping the haft of his broad axe.

Without a word, the raiding party fanned out through the village’s narrow streets. The calm of the night was broken as Igoran kicked in the door of the first hut he came to, the crash jolting the elderly couple inside awake. Before they could react, Igoran’s great axe silenced them, blood spraying the rough woolen blankets on their bed.

All around, the raiders set upon the defenseless villagers. Screams pierced the night as doors were smashed in and people were dragged from their homes. Raiders lit torches and set fire to the thatched rooftops, the flames quickly spreading to engulf the simple wooden structures.

Bearded raiders pulled young women from their families, and children cried out for their parents, only to be cut down mercilessly.

A young father charged through a broken door, a simple j-hook used for catching fish turned into a makeshift weapon in his hand. He bellowed with rage and sunk its curved, sharp end into the large man dragging his wife from their home. The raider went down with a gurgled shriek, the metal hook still embedded deep in his back, but the man’s victory was short-lived as two more raiders set upon him, blades opening his belly to the night air.

As he collapsed, his entrails spilling onto the dirt, his wife was dragged kicking and screaming toward the longboats. After what seemed like an eternity to the villagers not killed outright, a piercing whistle sounded from one of the raiders, the shrill sound cutting through the cries and screams of the ravaged village. At the signal, the raiders began dragging their captives toward the beach, the light from their burning homes revealing tear-streaked faces and blood-spattered clothes.

The burly raiders handled the villagers roughly, not bothering to bind them until they got to the boats. One young woman kicked and thrashed as her captor dragged her by the hair, only to be cuffed across the face, stunning her into submission.

Other raiders emerged from the huts, their arms laden with blankets, tools, bags of grain, anything they could grab of value. A few raiders lingered to shatter furniture and overturn pots, spilling stew and porridge across the wooden floors in an act of wanton destruction.

Looking back at them, Igoran bellowed, “Enough! Back to the boats!”

At his command, the last raiders sprinted from the village, loaded down with their spoils. They dumped their burdens into the longboats and began shoving the small vessels back into the frigid surf.

Fifteen minutes after they arrived, the longboats slipped back into the darkened waters, melding into the night. Behind them, the fires raged on.