The Sacrificial Boy by: Elsbeth Aislin learns that all choices in life come with consequences

Chapter 14

High Lord Judicar Alan of the Verities of the Red silently watched while his men searched the small home of a farmer and his family. Not that he expected anything to come of this particular search. These types of people were notoriously ignorant, however, according to the farmer, someone had slipped into their barn two nights ago and stolen his livestock.

For the last week, the Guardians under his command had been following the trail of a band of brigands. Typically, the local lord would be dealing with such trivial matters; however, these brigands had the audacity to attack not one but two Houses of Honor, killing over three dozen of their brethren. Such feats of villainy were not to be tolerated.

The Judicar believed those that stole the farmer’s livestock were also members of the same band of brigands. If so, why didn’t they take more of the farmer’s goods, odd that? Although this particular farmer had reported the theft, the Judicar knew that the sympathies of the other farmers in the region lay with the criminals.

Although he had questioned various people over the last week, even a few who were determined to be Trespassers of Truth, the Judicar still knew little about the band of brigands he followed.

Still, from what he had seen so far, he wasn’t too impressed. Like his superiors, the Judicar believed that the senior Guardians of both Houses had not been diligent enough with security. How else would a well-fortified House of Honor have been overcome?

In a real fight, as opposed to being murdered in their beds, Judicar Alan knew that even outnumbered his men would prevail. No, these brigands, these peasants, could never stand up to trained men who also had the shield of truth on their side.

“Guerrier Lyon, do these people know anything?”

His second in command looked back at the family then shrugged. “No, my lord, this man here claims that he and his family were asleep at the time. He only became aware of the theft in the morning. As soon as he discovered the missing livestock, he took his cart down to the local village to speak with their lord’s representative.”

The Judicar frowned; the village Elders had been unhelpful as well. Perhaps this entire area needed a Demonstration of Faith.

“I see, did he explain why these brigands didn’t take everything; much less murder them all in their beds?” A lone unprotected farm would be hard to resist for a band of thieves.

“I imagine my lord that the villains are aware that we are on their trail. If that’s the case, they have little choice but to move quickly.”

“Perhaps.” The Judicar nodded. The simplest explanation often was the correct one.

“Unless you think my Lord, that this man isn’t telling the truth. I can put him to more direct questioning if you wish.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary. I see no further need for us to remain.” Judicar Alan looked around the farm in disgust. “Let us just gather our portion and depart.”

As the Guardians began to take livestock, food, and fodder from the farm, the family began to get upset. “Please, sir, not my plow horse. How will I be able to work my fields?”

“You seem to have a strong back, my good man.” The Judicar shrugged, it didn’t concern him.

Why didn’t these people understand that they were protecting them from the evils of the world and that this required them to take a fair portion from any farm or shop when needed. Too bad one of the pack horses took sick, but they would have to do with the nag this man claimed to be a plow horse anyway.

“But, sir!”

Before the farmer could say anything else, a mail fist driven into the side of his head by the second in command of the Guardians dropped him to the ground.

“Do not speak to our Officer Supérieur without permission again.” The Guardian then began to kick the downed man in the ribs.

Ignoring the wailing of the farmer’s wife and child, High Judicar Allen turned his horse towards the woods. He had spotted something suspicious moving among the treetops, as he opened his mouth in warning, it was already too late.

--0--

While a dozen men in green and brown leathers searched the bodies of the slain Guardians, the leader of their band approached the farm. With a smile on his face, he tossed a small leather bag of coins to the farmer.

“No need my Lord; these people took our Nanina away from us. They deserved it.” The farmer attempted to give back the bag, but the man shook his head.

“You keep it, friend. Make repairs on the farm or buy a new plow, whatever.” It had been a bad winter, and the small bag of coins which meant nothing to the Judicar would make the farmer and his family’s lives much better. “Plus, I’m no lord, the name’s Roderick, and I’m just a Cropper like yourself, good Yeoman stock. Also, every jack one of us has lost someone to these bastards so trust me, we understand.”

“Will you at least take supper with us?” The wife smiled.

“Aye, thank you, Mistress, we can do that but first let us bury the dead.”

After removing any traces of the battle from the farmer’s land, the entire group sat on the ground, behind the barn far away from the road.

As the farmer’s wife and her daughter began walking around filling small trenchers of bread full of stew, she said. “My cousin Hendrix told me you men rescued a couple of girls from the burning last week.”

The youngest of the group shrugged. “Wasn’t us.”

“There are more of you, then?” The farmer turned towards Roderick.

The man just nodded, his mouth full of food. The weapons they gathered today and the rest of the coin would go to the other groups. Even some of the local lords, who had enough of the Guardians telling them what to do, had started to support them secretly. Since the Black Sorceress’ return, the Guardians were close to having a full-scale rebellion on their hands.

“You don’t hear a lot about it.” The farmer said.

“Them bloody red robes don’t want people to know, gives them ideas.” Another man laughed.

“Was it the Sorceress?” The young daughter of the farmer, who had been passing out small bits of bread to the men, asked.

“Could be, little lady. My cousin Loretta once saw her flying on that big cat of hers.”

“I thought you said it was a dragon.” Another man commented.

“Did your cousin really see her?” The girl asked in wonder.

“Naww, don’t believe him, lass. His cousin Loretta tends to stretch the truth a bit.”

“She might at that, but this time I trust her word. It was right after those towers were destroyed last month, the ones near the Old Forest. They say that the Sorceress brought them down with her magic.”

“Maybe it was the dragon.” The girl said excitedly, half jumping up and down.

“I heard it was a cat, could be a dragon though, wasn’t there. Them bloody red robes sure knew how to run, though.”

“You would be too, Stephen.” Roderick laughed.

“She wouldn’t hurt you, she’s nice.” The little girl admonished the man.

“My Gran said the Sorceress has a black heart and drinks blood.” Another one of the men spoke slowly, with a half-smile on his face.

The little girl looked shocked, then angry.

The oldest of the group, a large man who had the appearance of a smith by trade, said. “Leave her alone, Travis. His Gran, she’s from up north; you know how they feel about the Sorceress up there.”

“Not rightly proper; that’s how we got stuck in this messy business in the first place. Them bloody red robes coming down here during my grandpappy's time.” An older man grumbled.

“I heard that some of the old songs are now being sung in the taverns again. Not just the ones about the Sorceress but also about her exalted captains as well. ”

“Did you know some of the lands south of here still hold feast days in their honor?” The man called Travis said while starting to take apart the stale bread that made up the trencher, tossing bits into his mouth.

The farmer’s wife smiled, setting her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “A feast day would be lovely, Richard. I’d love to dance with you again. We haven’t had a real one since….”

The farmer nodded, holding his wife’s hand. “I’d like to help you boys more if I can.”

Roderick looked up at the wife and saw the fear in her eyes. Although the ambush today had been perfect, their other attacks had not gone without loss.

“Well, we can always use help, but not what you think. We can handle the fighting, but we still could use help now and then from good people like yourself.”

The wife looked relieved as the farmer thought for a second, then nodded. “What do you have in mind?”

--0--

King Conall and his council stood over the large map of the realm. For the last three days, they had been sequestered in the room, discussing the plans for the upcoming campaign season against the Kingdom of Dál Riata.

Last year’s fight had ended early because of torrential rains, leaving both sides with little gains. Only the mercenary companies employed by both Kingdoms who were paid for a full season, whether they fought or not, came out ahead.

Prince Burin leaned forward, taking a better look at the map. “Your plan has merit, Uncle, although I do have one concern.”

Duke Blathmac sighed before taking a long drink from the golden goblet next to him. “Aye, the rebellion in the southern lands.”

Although the fighting taking place since the end of winter had not been near the Kingdom’s borders, the Duke still found it necessary to move a couple of regiments of foot and horse to fortify the border towns. Such rebellions had the tendency to spread.

Hopefully, the regiments would keep the conflict from crossing the border. Everyone noted that although their kingdom had not gotten involved with actual fighting, it had already taken away resources, as those troops would not be available for the upcoming campaign season.

“I thought they were all unarmed farmers down south?” The youngest of the group, made Count when his father passed away over the winter, questioned the group.

Count Valan of the House of Ciannacht, a big red-bearded giant of a man who ruled lands in the northern part of the Kingdom, roared with laughter. “Laddie, one of them unarmed farmers could put a feather through your eye from over hundred paces with those Willow Wands of theirs.”

All around the table, the other men laughed good naturally at the young man’s confusion.

“It’s their bows, Albert, white wood, tall as a man and deadly.” Prince Burin explained to his friend.

“Are they truly that accurate?”

“My senior huntsman was born in the Barony of Capcir, and I have seen him drop a deer at that range.” Duke Blathmac, the King’s brother, finished his wine with one last gulp.

King Conall waved his hand. “Indeed, and that is where the fighting has begun. You’re correct, Albert, the eastern lands, where the Guardians have complete control even over the nobles, the farmers are treated as nothing more than slaves. No, it’s the lands west of the Ranz River that the Verities pushed their so-called truth into in the last decade or so, that's where the trouble has started.”

“Besides the bands of Yeomen making life difficult for them arrogant bastards, the actual fighting began when Duchess Cryda disposed of Count Jowan last week. No loss, he was a particularly unpleasant individual, however; somehow she has managed to convince King Holzen and his allies to move troops north to support her husband’s attack on the city of Kerlin.”

The City of Kerlin, which sat astride the Ranz River, had been the Guardians of Truth western capital in Count Jownan’s former lands. With its fall, those who opposed them would dominate the entire west.

“I doubt that Richard is supporting them without asking for something in return.” King Conall sat down on his chair, putting his fingers to his lips.

“You think Kerlin could be his reward for pushing the Guardians out of the west?” Prince Burin turned to his father.

“That would be my guess, your Highness.” Count Valan pointed to the series of rivers running through the Kingdom of Holzen. “He would gain quite a bit of taxes for taking that one city alone.”

“The question is; will they be happy with pushing the Guardians back over the Ranz, or continue east? We could be looking at years of fighting ahead. Fighting that could easily encompass all of the lands in the south."

“I agree, Duchess Cryda has no love for the Guardians who took advantage of her father when he was ill, essentially taking control of the Duchy.”

“So the fighting does appear to be spreading.” Count Albert scratched his chin. “Your Majesty is this King Richard strong enough to unite all of the western lands under his banner.”

All of the older men gave the young Count an approving look. Most of them had already determined that some of the more powerful kingdoms or Duchies would take advantage of the rebellion and consolidate their holdings.

“And to think this all started with some rumor about the Black Sorceress returning.”

“You’re laughing, Valan, but that’s what caused these problems in the first place.” Duke Blathmac pointed his middle finger at him.

“Your Grace, I doubt that they needed the villain of a children’s story to rebel against the Guardians. Duchess Elvira should have known better before inviting that group onto her lands sixty years ago.”

King Conall nodded. “I agree, they have pushed too many people, too far with their ideas and now they are paying the price. Frankly, my great uncle should have hung the lot of them instead of throwing them out of the kingdom.”

At that moment, Princess Cordelia entered the room, followed by several servants. As they quickly filled the men’s drinks and replaced the trays of food she moved quickly to her husband’s side.

“Greetings, my beautiful wife.” Prince Burin gave the Princess a broad smile until he noticed the cup in her hands.

“I do apologize to your Majesty for interrupting your meeting, but I believe my good husband forgot to take this elixir during our morning meal.”

With great care, she took a small silver goblet and set it in front of her husband. The Prince had come down with a lung fever during the winter months, and only recently had started to feel better. He had thought because of that, he could quit taking the foul-tasting medicine.

King Conall let out a small laugh. “I am surprised that my wife isn’t here with you, Cordelia.”

The young Princess gave a warm smile. “She sends her love and a reminder about tonight, your Majesty. “

The King, like all good husbands, took the hint. “You are correct, of course; gentleman perhaps we should stop for the evening. I am sure you are aware of the special feast we will be held tonight to honor the return of the goddess of spring.”

Throughout the kingdom, the Blaanid feast would take place at sundown. In most homes, small cakes soaked in honey would be the special treat for the night. In the Court of King Conall, the festivities would be quite a bit larger.

As Princess Cordelia watched her husband empty the silver cup, she noticed the strange visitors sitting in the window. Like many women in her family, she had a touch of the sight.

It didn’t manifest very often. As a young child, she sometimes would see elementals playing in the rivers and woods. So upon discovering three Sylphs sitting on the windowsill right outside the room, all she did was smile.

--0--

Aislin sat in the center of the garden as the first rays of the spring sun broke through the trees high above the swamp. Most of her new guests had celebrated the feast of Blaanid long into the night. Right now, she sat alone, even the elementals giving her peace.

Since becoming the mistress of Dubh Caisleáin, Aislin had hardly stopped working. She had quickly come to realize that the gift of knowledge bestowed upon her by her ‘Aunt’ did not mean she could stop learning either.

The darkness was coming. That fact was inevitable however the when and the how remained a mystery. She had found clues in the writings of several Seers, all who went mad because of that darkness.

Looking down at the pool, which sat in the center of the garden, Aislin gave a sad smile. She had another reason for working so hard; it was to forget what she left behind.

With a wave of her hand, the pool became like a mirror, but it did not show her reflection. Instead, the Sorceress watched, as Macha prepared for the day ahead. Stopping herself from touching the smooth surface, Aislin clutched her chest instead.

With a single tear running down her face, she whispered. “Soon, my love.