The Distant Kingdoms Volume Two: The Lord of the Northern Realm

PROLOGUE

Her dirt-smeared face was awash with a beam of dull, clean moonlight. The modest, naturally produced illumination breached the narrow boundaries of her cell via a tiny, glassless air vent that was located above the filthy, cold floor. The one narrow breach in the foreboding stone wall allowed her the precious few pleasures present in her otherwise ruined life. The light from both the sun and the three moons, along with fresh air and a little rain, were the only factors which made her life bearable in a constant existence of grime, starvation, unbelievable cold and infestation from various parasites. During the cold season, she, like so many of the other miserable prisoners in the adjoining dungeon cells, often came perilously close to freezing to death. At least the girl ate on a moderately regular basis and had minor contact with other people in the form of the castle’s guards. Thankfully, these brutes did harbour some fear of her and kept their fists and whips well away. Such behaviour was a great deal more than most of the dungeon’s other prisoners experienced during their lengthy internment.

Some unseen creature scuttled across her naked left foot causing the girl to glance down at the distraction. It was merely one of the huge cockroaches which inhabited the dungeons of the large castle. Usually these lowly insects did not particularly bother the human inhabitants of the various cells and so she paid it no further mind.

A shocking, drawn-out scream of suffering and sheer agony blasted away the night’s peaceful silence. The terrible disturbance had emitted from the direction of the torture chamber located on the floor below her cell. The cry had been intensified to an astonishing pitch by the thick stone walls of dungeons. The girl winced involuntarily at the sounds of even more dreadful screams. Someone ran at no minor pace past her cell door, causing the prisoner to step close to the object that barred her exit from such a terrible ordeal. Turning her head to one side so her right ear almost came into contact with the thick pane of timber and cold metal, she listened intently for any further activity. Any human contact was preferable to the long days and nights of complete isolation. Much to her surprise, even more people whom she believed to be the castle jailers, ran past her door. Next up there was the indecipherable sound of people yelling at one another in the catacombs that made up part of the underground dungeons.

Something was wrong.

It was so unlike the stern jailers to become overly emotive about any event they faced. These men were used to inciting starvation, torture and even cold-blooded murder on their prisoners. The girl frowned as she pondered on the cause of their discontent. Another sound reached her ears as she attempted to deduce what events were unfolding in this place and on this night.

Something slammed into the door to her cell causing the girl to instinctively leap back, praying the seal to her cell, her home, remained closed. The door opening during such turmoil could only be a tragic event for her. She stepped back a couple of cautious paces, both eyes on the safely locked door. Much to her relief nothing else occurred just outside in the corridor. A moment or two later a different kind of noise made itself aware in the perpetual gloom of her chamber. Apparently the door of an adjoining cell was forced open by what appeared to be a number of the oddly angry jailers. The noisy interlude was hastily followed by a raucous yell of fear and defiance. Much to her horror, the sound hastily formed into a long, fear-filled scream. The roar of pain and suffering ceased in an instant almost like someone had placed a barrier of sorts between the two cells. The girl cringed in her own fear as she backed away until her spine came into contact with the rear wall. She did not have to view the scene to fully realise what terrible event had taken place in the other chamber.

Someone had just died.

The girl had always hoped someone would rescue her from that evil place and set her back into the sunlight. There had to be a single person brave enough to openly defy those evil beings who had placed her in the cell. And two tears fell from her deep brown eyes as she gazed across at the only entrance to the crypt for the living while she continued to wait for fate to involve her in these serious intrigues.

CHAPTER ONE

EAST OF THE PORRA-HAMAFORTH BORDER

The extensive procession of uniformed men and women stretched along the wide, unpaved road for an impressive distance. The horses they rode kicked up a seemingly endless cloud of fine, brown dust with their continuously moving hooves. Fortunately, the wind was blowing away from the mounted military company, making travelling at least bearable. The military personnel were followed by a collection of support staff such as cooks, livery hands, blacksmiths and the like. These unfortunate individuals were recipients of the backwash of some of the dust kicked up by those soldiers and other persons further up the thoroughfare. Only at night did these misbegotten people get any sort of reprieve from the constant shower of dust and by that stage they were far too busy in executing their assigned duties to fully appreciate such good fortune.

Once the column had departed Valderhien, the capital city of the nation of Hamaforth, the mass of military personnel had ridden their mounts at an accelerated pace until finally reaching a small, nondescript river which barely showed up on most regional maps. There were two reasons behind their rush to reach this apparently unimpressive body of water. Firstly, they could replenish their water supply with great ease, and secondly, when blessed with constant rain in the region, the river increased drastically in size to provide an easy route almost directly into Porra. Travelling by boat along the river would save many days ride from any estimated journey time. Luck was with the battalion as recent heavy rains had kindly filed the river almost to breaking point.

Having left the city, complete with a moderate flotilla of dismountable vessels, the column paddled with the tide until the river finally ran its course to end in a large lake. Here, they continued without hesitation onto the nation of Porra and her capital of Xerous City. During the journey they dismounted only at night to rest both themselves and their collective of tired horses.

Personally, his Lordship, Colin Bourke, was uncertain about which mode of transport he detested most: The horses or the rickety boats. One made his stomach queasy; the other assailed his spine and hips. His light-auburn hair blowing in the stiff breeze, he turned around on his horse, a thankfully gentle gelding and gazed back along the procession. Colin had been allotted a position at the head of the moving formation and was greatly consoled by the fact he did not have to spend an hour or so every day scrapping layers of dust off both himself and his horse.

Is there anything the matter, Lord Bourke? an imperiously tall, blond man riding almost directly beside him inquired.

No, Thellic, Colin responded, his full attention still focused on the military presence to his rear, but, I was wondering what will happen once we’ve reached this Porra place with something that resembles an invasion force? Won’t the armed forces already there retaliate?

Not offering one iota of a smile, the recently replaced Lord Protector to the Royal family shook his head. No, your Lordship. All information so far gathered from Porra indicates that those military bodies once governed by Laninval have either privatised themselves or dispersed entirely. This leaves the region wide open for any invading army. We should not have any great difficulty in assuming control over Xerous City and then the entire nation.

Privatised?

Rumour has it large sections of the former Porran army has converted itself into a gang-like organisation and are in the process of stripping the city of all of its wealth.

Won’t they give us some trouble?

The chief of the Dearnian detachment looked across to him then back across the gathered men and women under their combined charge. I would place your forces against a band three times our size, my Lord. These are the best soldiers available in all the Kingdoms. From all accounts, the human scum Laninval used in his army could not conduct a straight line to the nearest latrine without first disposing of all form of discipline. If sent up against your contingent, they would, undoubtedly, turn tail and flee the area like frightened animals.

The detachment of horse-bound troops were constantly being referred to Colin as ‘your army’ or ‘my Lord’s forces’ or similar such euphemisms which all concerned the hopelessly displaced scientist. Since his recent knighthood bestowed on him by the Hamaforth Kingdom’s reigning monarch, King Entell Thellon, the Third, he had been constantly barraged by quite troublesome information about the country Porra and his soon-to-be assumed duties in that distant land. Apparently, the realm was in such great inner turmoil that its state of continual upheaval posed a very real threat to the continuing safety of the entire Kingdoms. The military presence at Porra, and more precisely Xerous City- also simply known as Xerous, was the main deterrent standing in the way of any invasion force from the Azzil Territories.

Despite his vocal opposition to his transfer to the ruling seat of Porra; simply because he had no idea on how to perform such a task, Colin had been compelled to do the King’s bidding. So, along with two thousand mounted troops, he had departed the mighty metropolis of Valderhien.

You don’t seem to be particularly fond of Lord Laninval or anyone working for him? Colin observed.

The greatest regret in my life so far is that former Lord Laninval escaped my ambush just beyond the limits of Valderhien, Thellic grumbled. His vile head should have been presented to the Princess Paura Thellon as a gift along with the head of that evil hag he had as a wife.

Colin involuntarily shuddered at the mere memory of the gruesome event where the young princess had openly displayed the recently deceased Lady Laninval’s head to all those dignitaries present in the Royal Assembly Hall.

One day I will endeavour to correct that mistake, the head of Colin’s personnel bodyguard added.

You do realise the Queen wasn’t impressed by your little gift to her daughter?

You cannot please everyone, Lord Bourke, Thellic remarked in his mandatory humourless manner. And besides, I have noticed that some women appear to be quite squeamish at the sight of blood. Although, I was careful to drain the head of blood before I presented it to her Highness.

I heard about that!

Both men turned around to face a tall, blonde woman some years their junior riding close behind them. Her face wore a serious expression, as per usual for the Dearnian guards and she was never without a sword at her side.

I was not referring to you, Zirinn, Thellic responded. Never have I seen you in a mood even remotely resembling squeamish.

I am most grateful the chief of the Dearnian guard has noticed, she answered back with no real emotion, her deep blue eyes locked onto his.

Ain’t that sweet, Colin muttered.

Did you say something, my Lord? the Dearnian man inquired.

Nothing much, he wryly responded. Just a comment about life in general.

My most humble apologies, your Lordship. I missed that one.

Quite alright, Thellic, Colin magnanimously forgave him. But you’ll have to pay closer attention to what I say, otherwise you’re likely to miss out on some truly great pearls of wisdom.

I will endeavour to do so, Lord Bourke.

I believe Lord Bourke is jesting with you, Zirinn remarked, her tone a stern rebuttal as she glared at his Lordship with a cold anger.

She’s right you know, Colin confirmed her suspicions. I have to do something to take my mind away from the pain in my ass from riding around on this goddamn stupid horse.

Perhaps you should fall from your horse a few more times, the Dearnian man suggested. Such an act would surely take your attention away from any discomfort you may be feeling.

Touché.

I do beg your pardon, Lord Bourke?

It’s an old Earth expression, Colin admitted, flashing a wry smile. It means you gave as good as you got.

If the recently removed Lord Protector was pleased by the statement, he certainly gave no indication as such.

He should not say such blasphemous things about his horse! Zirinn hissed, once his Lordship was out of audible range.

I am certain he meant nothing by the comment. Thellic assured her.

It is still a horrible thing to say!

You must remember, his Lordship is not familiar with our customs or beliefs. This has, unfortunately, led him to interfere in some matters not of his concern.

His Lordship saved the life of Princess Paura and his Highness, the Prince Entell, another Dearnian man mention from his position a couple of paces away. Banisor felt it his duty to bring their attention to the fact having overheard the recent comment by his superior. Or had both of you conveniently forgotten that detail?

We have not done anything of the sort, Banisor, Zirinn assured him, but we thank you for your observations.

What about you, Thellic? No heartfelt words of thanks for my assistance?

Certainly, the former Lord Protector answered, displaying a rare smile at his fellow Dearnian, and as a show of my thanks for your services, Banisor, you may take the full watch tonight to make certain our mutual travelling companions are not waylaid in their sleep. I am certain you will consider it a just reward for involving yourself in a conversation between Zirinn and I

A strange half-smile, half-grimace froze on Banisor’s features. My thanks, Thellic.

When we are all no longer of this world, all things will be equal; for now they are not, Thellic advised his fellow Dearnian. So I would recommend you to get as much rest as possible before we make our night camp.

I will attempt to do just that, the other man promised, nudging his mount’s flanks, causing the animal to trot ahead to where Colin currently rode.

Another member of the Dearnian detachment rode closer to Thellic. Boriculin, one of the very few Dearnians to possess dark hair, fell in beside Thellic. All the while he gazed across to Colin and Banisor.

With the utmost respect, Thellic, Boriculin inquired. What was all that about?

Bear it no mind, Boriculin, Thellic answered. Banisor was just exercising his luck; he had none today. Maybe his good fortune will return some time tomorrow.

Whatever you say, Boriculin responded, still not clear on what trouble had just transpired between the two men.

I am glad to hear it. Now please see to it the supply wagons do not fall too far behind the main column. Last night we struck camp then were forced to sit around, staring at the famished expressions on one another’s faces until the evening meals were finally prepared. Such a reoccurrence tonight would certainly result in most of the mess staff waking up with their feet tied together and their pants pulled down around their ankles as some sort of punitive measure. I have witnessed such acts of retaliation on other missions for similar offences.

The other Dearnian man nodded his head once then charged away in the direction of the loosely following mess wagons. What Thellic had forgotten to mention to Boriculin about the foot-tying, pants-pulling incidents was that he had been the main instigator of these retaliatory acts. If there was one thing that irritated him above all else while on route to a new mission it was lazy support staff whom appeared to be operating under the false conviction they could amble along behind the main procession, setting up the mess halls and kitchens anytime they felt inclined to do so.

***

Generally, with the formation like the one currently travelling to Porra, the supply column comprised of one actual chef who ruled the kitchens and a number of lesser cooks who performed, as the title suggested, the cooking part of the meal service. The head chef on this particular expedition was a foul tempered, middle-aged man whose lack of height appeared to be fully compensated by two piercing eyes and a thunderous voice. He currently rode at the head of the supply detachment in the lead wagon which was pulled by two of the ugliest oxen Boriculin had ever seen in his life.

Good morning, the Dearnian guard called to the chef as he charged up to the lead cart.

The short, bald man remained stony-silent, staring across to the much younger person whose enthusiasm only aggravated his already ill-tempered disposition. He flicked both of his oxen with a short-handled whip, the lash of which was constructed of crude brown leather. The beasts of burden both simultaneously bellowed at their unfair treatment, but continued dragging the heavy vehicle over the flat road.

I said; ‘good morning’, Boriculin emphasised his earlier comment.

So? the chef responded.

So- Thellic requested that I personally ask you to keep the supply train up to speed. We do not wish to lose sight of you.

Why not journey back to ‘his Lordship’ and ask him to mind his own business. Unless ‘his Lordship’ wishes to personally prepare the meals for the entire battalion!

It was a simple request.

I do not care if Dess, the Sun God personally makes the request. They may both go about minding their own business.

Is that your final word on the matter? the Dearnian demanded, one hand resting lightly on his sheathed sword.

Certainly- and you can stop grabbing at your sword. I am not afraid of some dressed-up goon and his glorified butcher’s knife! Do you understand me?

Boriculin shrugged. Certainly- Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and convey your message to Thellic.

You just do that.

The Dearnian man rode away at a full gallop, his path marked by a steadily rising wake of fine road dust which had only started to settle before another white-clad horseman came into view. The man in question rode towards the chef’s cart at no great pace. His blond, tied hair bouncing in rhythm to his motion on the horse, Thellic moved in beside the chef, his features marred by a mildly curious expression.

Is there some problem? he inquired pleasantly.

Such an act in itself should have provided the chef with an ample warning about what was to come. However, he was neither a polite or particularly intelligent person at the best of times.

No problems at all, ‘your Lordship’, the head of the supply staff insisted. Providing you keep your attention focused on your people and leave me to run my supply line the way I see fit. Is that simple enough for you to understand?

Thellic nodded while his stead easily kept pace with the wagon. The chef once more realised the cart was gradually slowing and duly punished his oxen team with the whip. The animals, in turn, bellowed yet again, their cries of pain echoing across the open landscape.

Was there anything else, ‘my Lord’ before you return back to the main column?

I believe so.

Using one hand, the former Lord Protector grabbed hold of the chef’s shirt front, hauling him clear of the cart and depositing the bewildered man onto the well-trodden ground. The dazed man remained in a spread-eagled position, the breath concussed from his lungs as Thellic leapt from his horse that possessed the common sense and training to stand nearby and watch this business unfold. Removing his sword from its scabbard, Thellic stalked across to the other man who gazed up at him through fear-filled, and slightly bloodshot eyes.

The long-bladed weapon hovered menacingly over the chef’s exposed throat. Did you hear what I did to the good Lady Laninval? Thellic demanded. The other man nodded his head as best as his awkward position would allow.

Let me tell you this; ‘her Ladyship’ did not anger me as much as you did just now- you stunted, malignant, putrid little rodent! Her Ladyship cried at my feet and begged for mercy- yet still I took her head simply because her miserable husband’s actions had insulted me! You have one function on our expedition- to do as you are told, when you are told and how you are told! Is there any problem with such a simple instruction?

The chef attempted vainly to speak up at this point of the discussion, but merely produced a cluster of pathetic sounding whimpering noises. The rest of the supply train had finally grounded to a halt, the various personnel observing the display with great, though carefully concealed enthusiasm: They did not have much time for the chef either.

Thellic continued: If you ever dare open your filthy, rat-hole of a mouth and speak to either myself or any of my people in such a disrespectful manner, your fate will be the same as that of Lady Laninval. Also, if I ever hear such a blasphemous offence offered against any of the gods, I will personally reintroduce blood sacrifices! Do you understand me?

Spittle drooling down his mouth, the terrified man nodded, sensibly choosing to refrain from speaking further on the matter. Once the enraged Dearnian had released him, the chef also decided to remain where he was for a short while. It was certainly no time for unwarranted heroics.

Stepping across to the place where the other man’s harsh whip had fallen, Thellic snatched up the object of torture, throwing it into a nearby hedge of thorny bushes. Climbing back onto his patiently waiting mount, the former Lord Protector refaced his particularly unworthy opponent.

And if I ever see or hear of you using that brutal object or any other such implement against those poor beasts, I will personally make you haul that wagon all the way to Xerous. If you wish those animals to provide a better service then I strongly recommend you feed them more fodder. Both are looking undernourished.

After these words, the leader of the Dearnian contingent turned and rode towards the head of the column. His horse had only trotted a couple of brisk paces before he heard a series of dull, repetitive reports. Glancing back, he was uncharacteristically startled to discover almost every single member of the support staff standing up, applauding him in a rigorous manner. Bringing his horse around, Thellic bowed theatrically then recommenced his journey towards the military convoy. At least some people appreciated his efforts.

***

After the column had halted briefly to eat their equivalent of lunch and rest for a short while in the mild afternoon sun, some members of the battalion spied a thin, slowly rising trail of smoke in the distance. Realising the unexpected smoke formation signalled a catastrophe of some unknown degree, one of the officers approached Thellic to report on the grim discovery. As per standard practice, the entire Dearnian contingent remained a respectful distance away from the main military body.

Eating a large bread roll with cold meat as a filling, Thellic was seated with Zirinn and Boriculin in the shade kindly provided by a large tree. He ceased eating immediately on spying the middle-aged uniformed man approaching his position.

What is the matter? Thellic inquired.

Could he never finish a single meal in peace?

Thellic, there appears to be a fire in the distance, the officer announced, aiming a finger towards the cause of the latest disturbance.

Appears to be a fire, Boriculin repeated. Usually where you see smoke, there is a fire somewhere to be found nearby. I have never yet seen smoke just appear as if by magic.

His remark was rewarded with a filthy stare by the officer.

Should I send a patrol to investigate the matter? the uniformed man inquired.

Might as well, the leader of the Dearnian contingent instructed. Someone could be in trouble. He turned to Boriculin. Do you wish to join them?

No.

That was to the point.

I will go, Zirinn announced.

How many will you send over to investigate the fire? he inquired.

All of them! she responded cheerfully. I have longed to formally lead an entire battalion into battle!

Before you become overly excited, Zirinn, Thellic commented, rolling his deep blue eyes. You can take two score with you and no more. The column would look slightly depleted with only Lord Bourke, myself and a handful of the kitchen staff left.

Severely disappointed at having her hopes of command dashed against the jagged rocks of competent logic, the Dearnian girl leapt to her feet and moved across to her mount currently grazing on some long grass.

And besides! Boriculin called to Zirinn as she climbed on her horse. There may not be any battle. One can only pray for such things and hope for the best!

In that case, she retorted, please offer a prayer for a little excitement in my life.

You can have some of mine, Colin offered, in between bites of his meal as he remained seated under another shady tree beside the road. To be honest, his Lordship had never been a ‘cold lump of dead meat in a bread roll’ sort of person, although after recent events, he found his appetite now included just about any type of food. His motto in these strange times was; ‘if food was freely available then he would eat it’.

She should be back before too long, Thellic added. The fire would be only about two leagues away from our current position.

While Zirinn’s hastily formed expedition breached a nearby hilltop, Boriculin noticed something appeared to be amiss with the patrol. He frowned in apprehension at the sight. Is that really only twenty of our troops with Zirinn?

To be honest, Thellic admitted, sadly shaking his head, the group looks closer to seventy in number. You would think those soldiers would have common sense enough to just finish their meal and not go charging off into some sort of trouble.

The conversation continued as a lone woman on a horse rode up to the encamped group, her features covered in a light perspiration.

My Lord…Um…I mean, Thellic- the head chef wishes to inform you that he will move the supply train further ahead while the main column is resting here. That way he can have the night camp fully functional before the company arrives.

Tell him he has my thanks. It is rewarding to see someone display a touch of courtesy towards the general troops during our long trek to Xerous.

I will pass on your words, she responded, smiling just before riding away.

The head chef will probably fall to a dead faint if she does anything of the sort, Boriculin surmised, his left hand lightly slapping at some form of annoying insect.

We really need to do something about that, Colin added..

About what, my Lord? Thellic inquired.

You being demoted. Everybody keeps calling you ‘Lord Thellic’. It must be embarrassing.

Thellic ceased eating to gaze across at the newcomer to the Royal court. His blue eyes bore into the other man while his mind pondered on the latest statement. The matter really needed to be sorted out before it became a serious issue.

All due respect, Lord Bourke, you are functioning on a number of incorrect assumptions. Firstly; I was not demoted- simply appointed to a completely different position. Secondly; I do not feel the slightest trace of embarrassment over the incident. Personally, I did not want the Lord Protector title in the first place. In fact, the matter caused me no end of discomfort as I only inherited the appointment after the tragic death of my brother of whom I held in high regards. My only task in life now is to overseer your personal protection during the voyage to Porra and after we take the castle at Xerous.

Take the castle? Colin repeated. You make it sound as if we’re going to have to fight our way in.

We may well have to if a large number of Laninval’s troops remain there. Our mission could start under extremely unsavoury circumstances if some of Laninval’s more loyal subjects decide to hold their ground. Even against such overwhelming odds, a handful of poorly-trained soldiers could hold the castle against us for quite some time. Also, we do not know how the citizens of Xerous City will react to our presence at the castle. It is known most of the local inhabitants of that picturesque little city feared and despised their former Lord. They may, however, decide to hate you even more.

Why is that?

You are an unknown character, Lord Bourke: Some mysterious being who has appeared from out of nowhere and is abruptly placed in one of the more powerful positions in all the Hamaforth Kingdoms. They may suspect you are nothing more than his Majesty’s pawn in a power struggle to gain complete control over the nation after Laninval’s removal.

Every time Thellic spoke of the former Porran Lord, he spat out the accursed name as though it were a shocking taste in his mouth.

And they would be right, Colin theorised. I am only here to help Entell Thellon keep a tight hold on Porra.

That may well be true, Lord Bourke, the chief Dearnian continued, but it is irrelevant to me. I have sworn an oath to protect the Royal family in any way possible. If such a vow includes your safety then so be it.

Am I able to promote you back to being ‘Lord something-or-other’?

Only the reigning monarch of the Kingdoms may bestow such a title upon a person, Thellic explained. And once again I must insist; I find no offence at my current situation under your command, Lord Bourke.

Colin shrugged. If you say so, Thellic. He paused a moment before speaking again: We really should get moving.

A worthy thought, your Lordship, Thellic answered, rising to his feet.

Unless you think Zirinn might need our help? Colin inquired.

I would doubt it, Lord Bourke, the other man grumbled, brushing some loose crumbs from his robe. After all, she already has half the battalion at her disposal.

Good point.

On seeing the leaders of their large unit prepare to continue the journey to their distant destination, the regular troops reluctantly started packing away their respective lunches. In a remarkably short time the entire division was back in the saddle and on their inevitable way to Porra.

CHAPTER TWO

Guiding her horse along a narrow, slightly overgrown trail, Zirinn rode as silently as possible under present circumstance. She attempted to peer through gaps in the surrounding foliage to gain a better view of the nearby fire, though without much success until recently. On closer inspection it appeared the fire and resulting smoke stack were emitting from a burning farmhouse located in a valley so narrow and shallow it was more an indentation in the surrounding terrain. So far there had been no other sign of any problems unfolding within close proximity.

The Dearnian girl turned to face those personnel presently in her charge and for the first time realised she was, in fact, one of the older members of the makeshift unit. Most of the senior troopers within the military task force had politely declined her invitation to take an active part in the investigation; though they did wish her all the best of luck with her endeavour. The younger members of Lord Bourke’s detachment were, for the most part, egger to prove their worth and quite possibly earn a commendation- or even a medal if events became ‘exciting’.

We must be quiet! Zirinn hissed. She frowned and silently began counting heads. Just how many of you are there? I requested a company of merely twenty!

A youthful junior officer glanced about. My guess is there are those numbers here, Zirinn.

Then you should go back to school and relearn how to count. There is easily three times that number present. I only hope a good half of the company has not followed me here. Things could become a little crowded on our mission.

The young officer decided at that instant to divert attention away from the obvious predicament. How shall we go about rescuing these poor, unfortunate victims of this heinous crime? he inquired, in his most trustworthy tone of voice.

What victims of what crime?

The fire! The smoke! There must be a crime in progress and some tragic victims nearby.

You have been reading too many poorly written adventure tales, Ensign, she firmly informed the officer.

A female scream reverberated about the narrow valley. However, you may be correct in this instance.

Yet another agonising scream sounded. On this occasion it was obvious the cry of pain had originated from an entirely different person.

Something must be done! the officer plaintively pleaded.

Alright, Zirinn replied. Ten of you accompany me to the eastern side of the valley. The remaining two hundred or so of you will follow the Ensign to the western rim. You will wait there until I give the command to charge on that farmhouse, then make all due haste as if there are a large number of perpetrators about. My unit may encounter some difficulty in dealing with them.

As you command, Zirinn, the junior officer acknowledged. He appeared to be perplexed. How will I recognize the correct signal?

It will be obvious. Now go before I have a change of heart and take care of this business by myself.

Fearing for their bragging rights back at the main column, the ensign led his unit to the western side of the modest valley. During their repositioning of the troops, Zirinn rode towards the far side of the valley. She only hoped her hastily constructed plans would be effective enough to save those persons in trouble inside the modest-looking timber building.

***

A large, partially burning branch held in one gloved hand, the Anhil leader stepped amongst a collection of writhing bodies, all of whom were securely staked and tied to the ground. Occasionally, the brightly attired man would lower the flaming end of his rudimentary torch onto one of the tied victims, bringing forth a welcomed scream of pain and fear. Halting over one victim, a girl of about thirty-five seasons in age, the Anhil leader leered down at her horrified features, his gap-toothed grin further aggravating the victim.

All you have to do is tell me where the money is! he ranted, jabbing the burning flare straight into the girl’s side causing her to let out another pained scream. We all know you farm people store extra money about in case of an emergency! Well, guess what! This is officially an emergency!

An abrupt movement at the yard’s edge caught his full attention, causing him to ignore the girl and look up to see a tall, striking-looking blonde woman on horseback riding directly towards him.

Who is in charge here? Zirinn demanded, scanning the immediate area. The four people tied on the ground were all her junior in age. Three of these local people were girls, the other being a boy of about twenty-five seasons of age. To the side of the clearing, a man’s motionless body lay crumpled on its side, a copious quantity of blood had stained the grass around him.

I am! the Anhil leader announced while the other members of his band remained standing nearby. Once they had finished with the farmer’s offspring, the blonde woman would make a fine plaything. And just who are you?

Zirinn.

Zirinn, the tall man repeated. It sounds like a damn Dearnian name. And we all hate Dearnians!

If you are in charge, the tall blonde spoke up, positioning her horse closer towards the Anhil bandit. Then this belongs to you.

Hauling her sword from out of its sheath, Zirinn swung the weapon in a wide arc, deftly decapitating the bandit leader in the process. His disembodied head spun freely through the air before coming to rest beside a corral fence a short distance away from his still standing body.

Greetings from Dearnia, Zirinn muttered, figuring that her disassembly of the Anhil leader was as good a sign as any that the attack should commence with all due haste.

While the remaining Anhil members either charged towards the Dearnian or commenced running for their lives, the area became awash with bellowing soldiers. The bandits may have been illiterate, degenerate thugs, but at the same time they highly valued their own lives. Most of these thieves and killers were now preoccupied with getting to their horses and fleeing the area.

One Anhil man swung his weapon directly at the ensign’s head as both combatants crashed into one another in a haphazard manner. Having been mightily offended by such a clumsy attempt on his person, the officer promptly sliced off one of the other man’s arms. The limb slung itself across the courtyard, crashing without so much as a word of warning into a lesser- ranked soldier’s head, knocking the unfortunate man from his mount.

Sorry, the ensign gave a heartfelt apology to the other soldier.

Not really fussed about fighting from horseback, Zirinn had launched herself from her animal and was presently brawling with yet another of the Anhil bandit before the charming individual could slaughter the unfortunates still secured to the ground. Her own weapon narrowly intercepted the bandit’s blade as it flashed in a downward arc towards one of the girl’s at his feet. The resulting brawl between the Dearnian woman and the would-be-assassin lasted until she deftly fended his blade to one side before running him through the rib cage. The bandit shuddered once then toppled to the ground where he remained quite motionless after the incident.

By the time the matter was finished, the entire Anhil band of twelve people had been wiped out by Zirinn’s patrol without loss of life by her forces. One soldier had sustained a particularly nasty laceration to his left leg, though with a touch of medical assistance he would completely recover and hold a scar worth boasting about. While someone tended to the man’s wound, other members of the patrol released the adolescents staked to the farm house courtyard.

Ignoring the searing pain in their recently released arms and legs, the children scrambled across to where the first fallen body had been resting. They threw themselves on top of the motionless form, crying hysterically as they hugged the dead man.

Deftly removing the fresh blood from her weapon, Zirinn waited patiently, allowing these brutalised children some time for their grief. Around this scene of bitter remorse, the other soldiers involved in the fracas cleaned themselves of their fallen foes’ blood. They were obviously none too egger to involve themselves in such a highly emotional scene.

Who was this man? the Dearnian girl inquired.

The eldest girl glanced up at one of her rescuers, her eyes wet and bloodshot. She also sported a number of nasty burns and deep bruises across parts of her body. He was our father! she wailed. We were just working the farm when these people came along and did this to us! They had no right! They treated us like we were less than animals and murdered him for no reason. They had no right to do so!

That is why we disciplined them in such a harsh way, Zirinn announced. People such as these have no right living in the Kingdoms. Let them stay in the Azzil Territories where they belong: although, in their current condition they may find getting there a bit difficult.

The battered boy turned to gaze up at the tall, blonde woman who had somehow miraculously managed to fight her way through the debacle without getting so much as a single drop of blood on her robe.

What do we do now? he asked.

Zirinn stepped across to the group as they continued to hover about the corpse of their fallen father. I can tell you right now exactly what you are going to do: Grow up and quickly. Firstly, your father must be properly buried and respectfully mourned- as is only right. Then the farm has to be taken care of or one day soon you will lose it too. Your father definitely would not want that to happen. Children cannot maintain a fully functioning farm of any size- only adults can do this. We will assist you in the burial of your father and remove this Anhil garbage, so it does not rot and stink up the place. After we leave, the four of you will only have each other to turn too in times of crisis. I assume your mother is no longer around?

She died some seasons ago, the eldest girl answered.

In that case they should be buried together under the care of the gods- and their children should certainly not become lost in a flood of despair. For your parent’s sake the farm should continue to function. It is the only respectful thing to do.

Yes, the eldest girl responded, absently rubbing at some of her obviously painful wounds.

Leave them alone, a nearby soldier advised. You will only infect the injuries.

The girl instantly removed her bloodied hand. She was obviously still in some pain from the scalds the Anhil leader had inflicted during his brutal interrogation. Most of her siblings were likewise suffering from various injuries received this tragic day in their lives.

After hastily inspecting these numerous wounds, Zirinn decided medical assistance would be required. If the burns and cuts were left unattended, they could easily become infected and cause even more serious problems in the children’s lives.

Ensign! she called.

Yes, Zirinn!

We will need one of the company’s medical practitioners to assist these child…I mean, people. Send someone to the main column for assistance. And take that injured man with you, his leg needs urgent attention. Also, get someone to inform Thellic we may be a little late in joining the battalion. But, I will make a full report once I return.

While the officer instructed some of the troops under his control to comply with these instructions, Zirinn turned her attention back to the eldest girl. If anyone was going to take charge of the farm once the military presence had left, it would obviously be her.

Do you have any Perinosa around here to relieve your pain until medical assistance arrives?

Yes, ma’am, the eldest girl answered. A little is kept in the kitchen in case of an emergency. Perinosa is very expensive, so we do not have that much.

I think your needs require what supplies you do have. Please be good enough to fetch it.

Escorted closely by two of her rescuers, the girl moved towards the farm house which had miraculously not been badly damaged during the recent Anhil raid. The fire which had first alerted the patrol had originated in a nearby barn which was currently little more than a pile of smouldering ruins. On their return, the clear healing jell was given to those in need to alleviate their pain. Around them, the soldiers began the arduous task of clearing away the bits and pieces of the recently vanquished bandits.

Silently, Zirinn stood beside her horse, her blue eyes closely observing those under her brief command as they repaired some damage to the farm house, gathered a variety of terrified animals and dug unmarked graves for the recently disassembled Anhil bandits. The child’s father was ceremoniously buried beside his long-departed spouse in the small family plot on the top of a nearby hill overlooking the scene of this recent bereavement. Those responsible for the atrocity were deposited with all haste in deep holes dug beside the farm’s outside lavatory. Later, Zirinn would supervise the children into a cohesive unit so they could competently operate their parent’s farm and not end up starving. For now her temporary charges needed medical attention to their numerous wounds. And the gods themselves help the first man or woman in her unit who complained about their arduous duties after what these children had been through today.

***

The landscape was changing. Only the most observant members of the constantly moving military column had noticed that the gently sloping, grassy plains with their smattering of trees and large bushes were becoming rougher and more barren of vegetation. Also, less abundant in the region was any form of wildlife. Deer, bison and wild goats were plentiful in the plains of western Hamaforth. Now even these creatures grew even more scarce as if secretly fearful of the area west of the border. Occasionally, a member of the elongated procession would spy some sort of game- along with other mysterious beings they did not wish to dwell on. Strange, predatory beasts were said to currently inhabit the north-eastern district or Porra, although no one was really able to confirm or deny these fables.

This is a grim place, Thellic declared with the utmost disdain. I have only ever been here once before and now I hate it even more.

A feeling of trepidation flooded over Colin as he rode in silence beside the tall, stern-faced Dearnian. His views on the region also matched the former Lord Protector’s.

I’m supposed to be in charge here? he inquired, casting a furtive gaze about the surrounding terrain.

Thellic nodded as he spoke: A grim place full of grim people. He suddenly smiled at some thought which had just that instant entered his mind. I do hope you enjoy your stay here, my Lord!

Thanks for nothing, Thellic. And before you get all jolly on me, I have to remind you that you’re tagging along for the ride.

You did not need to remind me of that fact, your Lordship.

When were you here last?

I beg your pardon?

You said this was the second time you had been to Porra. When was the first occasion?

I was on a training mission, the Dearnian man answered. The fool in command of the unit decided that this inhospitable place was the roughest region in all of the Kingdoms. So he made us march here and set up an encampment in the middle of this glorified rubbish dump, Thellic continued, indicating the surrounding landscape.

And?

We almost died out here. The local Anhil constantly attacked our company for some odd reason. We ran out of supplies. The half-wits assigned to the local garrisons could not competently mount their own wives, far less organise an attack on any local bandits. So our unit was very much left to its own devices. Finally, we had a stroke of good fortune and were able to scramble back to a military garrison on the other side of the border. At least the troops of that fortification were sober- most of the time anyway. And before you inquire about our good fortune, I will tell you it came about as a result of our commanding officer falling a great height from a very tall cliff.

Should I ask how that happened?

I would not, my Lord, the taller man mentioned in passing. The answer may disturb you.

I will wager he was as drunk as a lord most of the time, Banisor, the second-ranked member of the Dearnian guard added. He hurriedly glanced across to Lord Bourke. Nothing personal, my Lord.

None taken, Banisor, Colin replied, punctuating his comment with the mildest of shrugs. He looked to Zirinn who rode in her somehow customary position behind Thellic. Are you sure those kids will be okay by themselves, Zirinn?