The kings secret, p.2
The King's Secret, page 2
part #2 of Path of the Ranger Series
“But? You know I hate buts.”
Lasgol smiled. “It turns out that I’ve found a home among the Rangers. More than that, I found a family. The one I lost and don’t have any more…”
“Family?”
“Yes. My comrades, they’ve become my family. And the Rangers themselves, they made it so hard for me when I joined them, they’re my home now. That’s how I feel.”
Ulf shook his head. “I still believe you’d have a better shot in the army, more so now you’re a hero of the realm.”
“Thanks, but I want to go on with the Rangers. I still have a lot to prove, both to them and to my comrades…”
“I understand you’ve had difficulties…”
“Yes, and it hasn’t been easy at all. I want to prove to my comrades that I’m worthy of their friendship and to the Rangers that I deserve to become one of them. I know it’ll be difficult. I’ve got three more years ahead of me, very complicated ones, but something inside me is pushing me on. I want to become a Ranger, just like my father was.”
The grumpy old soldier nodded several times. “There’s nothing wrong in that. More so, knowing that you’re following in your father’s footsteps. I won’t insist on the army again.”
“Thanks, Ulf, I know you do it for my own good.”
Ulf sighed. “I want you to know that I always thought that business about your father was very strange. I knew him, and I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. It wasn’t typical of Dakon, what they say he did.”
“Thanks, Ulf. It wasn’t him, he was under Darthor’s spell.”
“Under a spell?”
“Controlled by him. Darthor can control people so they do his will.”
“By all the icebergs of the north! That’s dirty black magic!”
“Yes. He marks people with runes of power, then through those he controls them so they carry out his wishes.”
“There’s not many things I hate more than that treacherous magic.”
“You, and practically the whole world,” Lasgol said.
“Don’t tell me there aren’t perfectly good reasons for it, look what it did to your father.”
“Yes, you’re right… but…”
“But? There are no buts!”
Hearing Ulf’s favorite expression, Lasgol had to hide a smile.
“I don’t think magic is bad in itself, it’s a question of who uses it and whether he does it for good or evil.”
“More damned Ranger nonsense! All magic is bad! What on earth are they teaching you there?”
“So what about the Ice Mages of King Uthar, then?”
Ulf did not know how to reply to that. “Well… they’re the King’s mages… that’s different.”
“No, it’s not really so different. It’s the person who uses the magic that counts, not the magic in itself. That’s what my father taught me…”
“Maybe… I only know that where there’s steel, magic goes away.”
Lasgol laughed. “As any good Norghanian soldier would say.”
“That’s right!” Ulf downed the rest of his tea at a gulp as if it were beer.
Lasgol was feeling good in the company of his old master. He had been tough with him, unfair on many occasions, but honest. There was no malice in Ulf, only a temper like a blizzard. Lasgol realized that he had missed the old man. That deep down, he cared for him.
“So tell me then, why did you come? It couldn’t be to visit this retired old soldier with his bad habits and worse temper…”
“I’ve come to claim my father’s possessions. The King has restored all his wealth and lands to him, and in gratitude he’s granted me a sizeable sum of money.”
“Well, look at the little guy! You’re going to be the most famous person in this village, and the richest! We have to celebrate this with a round at the inn!”
“Maybe later, Ulf. First I want to get my father’s house back.”
“This is going to be fun!”
“Will you come with me?”
“Will I come ...? I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world!”
“All right, then, let’s go.”
“Take my sword.”
Lasgol looked at him in puzzlement. “We won’t need it, will we?” he said with some apprehension.
“Hah! That remains to be seen. You take it, just in case.”
Lasgol did as he was told, and they left the house.
Chapter 2
They arrived at the main square of the village. It was very busy, with barely room for a single extra soul. Lasgol gazed at the crowd in puzzlement; he had not expected so many people, The square did not usually look like this at mid-morning. Most of the people would normally have been at their work.
“It’s market day,” Ulf said with a smile of satisfaction. He stood up to his full height, leaning on his staff, so that everyone would notice him.
Lasgol understood. The farmers and miners of the area made good use of market day to stock up on food and tools for the week. He would have preferred it to be a normal day with the square half-empty, as it usually was; but his luck was against him.
As they moved on across the square in the direction of the chief’s house, conversation died away. Faces turned and eyes were fixed on Lasgol. Faces which showed great surprise, rapidly turning to shame, which they tried to hide by hurriedly looking away.
Ulf decided to cross the square through the center, between all the stalls of merchandise. Not only was he not going to let Lasgol’s visit go unnoticed, he was going to make sure that every single one in that village felt ashamed and uneasy, which they all deserved. As they went past, the murmurs of amazement grew louder. He stopped in the center of the square and began to glare defiantly at the people. Beside him, Lasgol sighed.
“What’s the matter, have you never seen a hero?”
Lasgol went red and hid under his cloak. He wanted to pass unnoticed.
“Take a good look at him! This is Lasgol Eklund, who used to be my lad, the one you treated as if he were a mangy dog!” He pointed to Lasgol, speaking so loudly his words could be heard all across the square.
“Ulf… there’s no need…” Lasgol whispered, hoping the situation would not become even more uncomfortable for everybody.
“Nonsense! They deserve it, the callous halfwits!”
Lasgol swallowed. The people, ashamed and uneasy, were trying to go on with their shopping, pretending they could not see them.
“A Norghanian hero is visiting us. Take a good look at him, because you treated him like trash for years.”
“Ulf…”
“Today we’re honored by Lasgol Eklund, son of Dakon. He’s a hero of the realm! The King’s savior! Shame on all of you, and apologize to him like the pile of cow manure you all are.”
“Please… Ulf… stop it.”
Ulf snorted. “All right. Because you’re asking me. If it were up to me, I’d bury them all in snow up to their necks and leave them like that for a whole day.”
“Have you got that off your chest now?” came the voice of Gondar Vollan, the village Chief.
They turned and saw him coming toward them, followed by his assistant Limus Wolff.
“I’ve only just started.”
Gondar stared at Lasgol for a long moment. He had always found the Chief impressive; he was as big as Ulf although considerably younger. A born Norghanian warrior.
“Thank goodness the boy has the common sense you seem to lack. We’re in the middle of the market, telling off the whole village isn’t the most sensible thing to do today.”
“And when have I ever done anything sensible?”
“Never…”
“Then, by all the frozen Golems, I’m not starting today!”
“As Chief, I have to keep the peace in the village… so stop yelling at everybody.”
“I’ll stop telling them a fistful of truths they deserve to hear, but not because you say so, because the boy’s asked me to.”
“Fine, but stop making a fuss. Let’s have a peaceful day.”
“If it were up to me, we wouldn’t.”
“Don’t I know it!”
Limus wagged his finger at Ulf “A fuss on market day is very bad for the village economy,” he said in his thin, almost feminine, voice. Limus was a small man with a face like a mouse, and was said by everyone to be very clever. He oversaw all the village administration and logistics.
“Limus, don’t wag your finger at me or I’ll bite it off.”
Gondar’s assistant withdrew his hand at once and hid behind his boss.
Gondar snorted. “I see you’re in an excellent mood today,” he said sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t you, if your lad came back as a national hero?”
“Well yes, I would.”
“And wouldn’t you hand out a few expressions of goodwill among the neighbors who were so good to him?”
“I understand your reasons, but let’s have a peaceful day.”
“So we will. And let me remind you, and the one hiding behind you, that you owe the boy an apology too.”
Lasgol stiffened. Ulf had just challenged Gondar. Nobody challenged Gondar. The Chief’s face turned sour, his gaze darkened. The people around them and at the nearest stalls watched them and whispered.
Gondar noticed this. “Be careful with what you say, Ulf. I’m the Chief, and nobody tells me what to do.”
The two huge Norghanians exchanged intense glares, like two big wild bears, one young and the other old and scarred, about to get into a brawl.
“Let’s calm down…” Limus said in a conciliatory voice, trying to smooth things out.
“There’s really no need, honestly,” Lasgol put in.
Gondar turned to him. He looked at him carefully, as if he were studying him.
“Yes, there is,” the Chief said.
Lasgol was puzzled.
“You’re a hero, you saved King Uthar’s life, and we…the whole village” – he waved his arm around them – “we treated you very badly. For that I apologize, on my own behalf and on behalf of this village of which I am the highest authority.”
Ulf relaxed, and a slight smile of satisfaction appeared in his old soldier’s face.
“Thank you…” said Lasgol, who would not have expected the acknowledgment in a thousand years.
Everybody in the square looked at one another and murmured.
“It has to be pointed out that there are different moments in time as well as opposite views,” Limus said, trying to excuse his boss in front of the villagers. “Let’s remember that Dakon had been condemned as a traitor.”
“Even so,” Gondar said, “it wasn’t the boy’s fault, and we treated him like a pariah. Nothing like that will ever happen again, not while I’m Chief.”
“That’s the way to talk!” Ulf cried.
Lasgol was touched. “Thanks, Chief Gondar.”
“Well, go on with your chores! And let’s honor our visiting hero!” Gondar said to all the on-lookers.
The crowd turned back to their shopping, conversations and dealings between neighbors.
Gondar was about to leave, but Lasgol stopped him.
“Chief… there is one thing…”
“Tell me, what can I do for you?”
Lasgol reached for the old traveling bag at his back. He opened it and took out a scroll bearing the royal seal.
“I’m supposed to give you this.”
The Chief saw the seal, recognized it and passed the scroll to Limus, who opened it and read it carefully:
By royal decree, all the honors, titles, properties and other belongings of Dakon Eklund, First Ranger of the Kingdom of Norghana, are hereby to be restored to him immediately.
Signed:
Uthar Haugen King of Norghana.
“Interesting…” Limus commented.
“What does it say?” Gondar asked.
“All of Dakon’s goods, titles and properties must be reinstated. As his son here is his only family, they’ll have to be returned to him.”
“Frozen manure!” complained Gondar. He stamped his foot. “That’s going to be a problem…”
Ulf, who already knew this, smiled from ear to ear.
“It’s a royal decree. It’s uncontestable and not subject to appeal,” Limus stated.
Gondar snorted. “I see that in the end you’re going to have the brawl you wanted.”
The old soldier shrugged. The smile never left his face.
“Limus, go and fetch my deputies. Tell them to come here.”
“Very well, sir.”
Gondar turned to Ulf and Lasgol.
“I’ll do the talking and I alone,” he said with his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I don’t want any bloodshed today. Understood?”
“Absolutely,” said Ulf, still smiling, looking as though he had never so much as broken an egg.
Gondar shook his head and snorted again. The Chief’s men did not take long to appear. They were six tough men, chosen by Gondar to help him keep the peace in the village and protect it from bandits and the like. In a small village like Skad there was no need for anything more. They came armed with spears and round shields of reinforced wood. One of them was also carrying the Chief’s spear and shield and he handed them to him.
Gondar made a sign to Lasgol. “You stay beside me. Ulf, you stay behind, and don’t you dare provoke them or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“All right…” the old soldier grumbled. His face showed that he was not very pleased with the order.
With determined step, while the locals watched with great interest, they made their way to the Eklund estate, the home where Lasgol had grown up and which he had been kicked out of. It was the biggest estate in the village, so that it was hard to miss. They stopped when they came to the gate in the stone wall which surrounded the house and much of the property. It was a high steel gate topped with spear-heads to stop anyone climbing over it.
Lasgol felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of his old home, a long building made of stone and wood in the Norghanian style. All of a sudden, memories came flooding into his mind. They bombarded him and awoke feelings in him of well-being, longing, loss… He remembered his father, his mother in the distance, the good times with them, the bad ones when she had disappeared from his life… and his father’s death… the betrayal… the people’s hatred… all at the same time. His eyes moistened. To distract his mind and avoid bursting into tears, he focused his attention on the building. It was the largest house in the village, and was perfectly maintained. This was because it was now occupied by Osvald, whose nickname was “The Whip”, second cousin of Count Malason, lord of that county, who had given him the house and all of Dakon’s lands.
“What’s up?” one of Osvald’s guards asked from behind the gate when he saw them arrive. Lasgol noticed that they were armed with spears and round shields. They wore the badge of Count Malason.
“Call your master,” Gondar ordered without explanation.
The two guards exchanged glances, then looked at Gondar’s half-dozen men and decided to comply. One of them went to find their master, while the other one watched the group, very tensely.
Osvald the Whip did not take long to appear. “Chief Gondar, what’s the meaning of all this?” he asked as he came down to the gate. At the sight of Lasgol he stopped. His face darkened. He whispered something to the guard with him, and the man turned and went back to the house at a run.
“We must talk,” Gondar said solemnly. “Official business.”
Osvald came to the gate, but did not open it. “About what?”
“Aren’t you going to let us in?” Gondar asked, raising one eyebrow.
Osvald pointed at Lasgol. “Not with him here.”
“That’s hardly courteous,” Limus said.
Osvald shrugged. His face clearly showed he did not care.
“Open the gate. I’m the Village Chief.”
“I only answer to Count Malason. Whoever the village chief may be makes no difference.”
“Be careful what you say, in this village I’m the law and nobody’s above it, no matter who he serves.” Gondar warned him.
“Maybe,” Osvald said with a self-satisfied smirk, “but in this county Malason is the law and you owe him allegiance.”
Limus showed him the scroll. “We have a royal decree. You must open the gate, accept it and do as it says.”
Osvald saw the guard he had sent back to the house coming to stand beside him and nod. He had brought four other guards with him. “The only thing I’m going to do is wait for the Count,” he said. “I’ve sent a carrier pigeon. He won’t be long”
Gondar looked at Ulf, who put his hand on his sword and nodded to him to show he was ready to fight.
“You know that if you refuse, you force me to act,” Chief Gondar said. He glanced aside at the large group of villagers who had come to see what was going on. “Nobody can question my authority.”
“It’ll be by force, and you’ll have to justify it to the Count,” Osvald warned him.
More villagers were coming from the square. The news had spread.
“By royal decree, you must hand over the estate and all his possessions to Lasgol Eklund, son of Dakon, here present,” Gondar said in a loud voice so that everybody would be able to hear.
“In your dreams!” Osvald replied, and locked the gate.
More people were coming to look. At the Chief’s words, the murmurs became muffled sighs. They could see confrontation looming.
Gondar sighed. “You’ve been warned.”
“And you’ve had your answer.”
The Chief turned round and whispered something to Limus.
“Right away.” was his reply, and he ran off.
Lasgol stepped back to stand beside Ulf. “There isn’t going to be any bloodshed, is there?” he asked. It sounded more like a wish than a question.
“Gondar can’t leave it like this. He’s the Chief and he’s been disobeyed in his village. It’s a question of honor now. And a true Norghanian never lets any insult to his honor pass.”
“But there’s no need for it.”
