* * *
The Feldonian soldiers showed their captives little sympathy or respite during the five day hike that led them to the city of Andron. They approached the wide spread coastal city at midday and the Captain led them through a large southern gate.
Christill and Thibalt stared around in wonder, whilst they pushed past the throngs of people moving in and out of the city. The massive stone walls, lined with walkways and battlements blocked off most of the city from sight. But once they passed under the raised portcullis, the city revealed itself. Countless buildings spread out before them, with paved streets snaking in between the multi level structures.
"I could never have imagined such a place," said Christill as they were pulled past wagons laden to the brim with goods. The sidewalks were lined with colourful stalls selling all manner of wares. Some of the merchants, calling out to the patrons walking past, stopped momentarily to eye them, but then continued to hound their customers.
"So many things," muttered Thibalt, turning his head from left to right.
Christill noticed that the soldiers leading them were similarly distracted and took the chance to shuffle closer to his brother. "What are we going to do?"
Thibalt made sure that they were not being overheard and replied, "We have to try and convince them of our innocence. They must be able to see that we are not Miirvkin."
"We have no idea what they are going to think."
"Then let us pray to the gods that they are a compassionate people."
"They cannot be worse than those we have already endured," commented Christill, with a quick glance over his shoulder towards Reinar. Reinar's face betrayed no emotion. He walked along without a struggle and kept his chest out, refusing to show any hint of defeat.
"I wonder what will happen to them?" asked Thibalt.
"Let's just worry about ourselves," said Christill.
The Captain was leading them to a second wall that lay in the centre of Andron. To the west they saw a huge village that joined up to the main city and spread out far along the coast. Beyond that they spotted a harbour so enormous that they were forced to rub their eyes. The harbour was considered the busiest in the known world, with ships arriving and departing at almost every hour of the day.
It was easy to see that Andron's wealth came from their shipping trade. But as with all large ports, as the city had grown, so had crime and pollution. The brothers could not help but notice the vast number of soldiers patrolling the streets.
They reached a stout wooden gate at which stood six armed guards. They were dressed in the same fashion as the Captain's men and were checking those attempting to enter the inner city. The Captain walked up to one of the guards with a feathered cap on his head and began talking to him.
Moments later they were moving through the busy streets of Andron once more. The difference between the Miirvkin and Feldonians was even starker here. Reinar and the other captives literally towered over the Feldonians that they pushed past. The clothing the Feldonians wore was bright and colourful, many of them covered in bejewelled accessories and vibrant headwear. Yet the clothing of the Miirvkin was always practical and never akin to the costumes that they now saw.
Exotic buildings surrounding them. Houses of dark grey and red bricks stood amongst towering buildings made of pale limestone. No two structures looked alike, the Feldonians being much more advanced in construction than the now seemingly primitive Miirvkin.
"To think we considered Hamal to be a grand city," commented Thibalt.
"I had no idea a place could have such scale," said Christill. "The harbour that we saw seems larger than the entirety of Hamal."
Many of the citizens stopped and stared or jeered at the prisoners as they walked by. Thibalt was also surprised to see many people crowding around the soldiers, offering to sell goods, or certain services in the case of a group of scarcely attired women. Andron was full of noise and such a variety of people that the brothers did not know where to look. One man who walked past them had bronzed skin, similar to the Miirvkin, yet wore only a short pant and thick leather belt. By his side walked a stocky man with shockingly pale skin, who was wearing a thick robe trimmed with foreign fur. The streets seemed to hold every manner of people from the vast Feldonian kingdom.
Finally after a long march through the streets they reached the centre of the city. Here stood a large building carved of white marble and pale grey stone. The brothers had never set their eyes on its equal. The building stood raised off the ground on a vast stone slab with a wide set of stairs that led up to the entrance. Long columns flanked the side of the structure and held up a pointed roof, covered with latticed tiles.
The soldiers dismounted and pushed them up the stairs. The entrance held no visible doors but had two stone pillars on either side with a symbol carved into them. As they stepped closer, they could make out the symbol. It portrayed a naked woman with feathered wings spreading out behind her back. Her arms reached out to the sky, with a sword in her left hand and what appeared to be a human heart in her right. Christill recalled the image as the symbol of the Feldonian goddess Skiye from his readings.
They were guided inside and found that the entrance led to a wide open room with seats lining the walls and a large gilded throne sitting opposite the entrance. Behind the throne lay the only door in the room which led away further into the building. The room was given an unpleasantly dark appearance by heavy green drapes that hung from the walls and limited the light within.
Sitting on the throne was an elderly man in an impressive green robe that was decorated with gold trimmings. "Come in Captain Falneren," the man motioned.
The Captain walked to the centre of the room and dropped to one knee. "Many greetings Duke Poleus," he said. "Unfortunately I bring ill news. The village was burnt to the ground as was rumoured. I have never seen such carnage. Everything was laid to waste, charred bodies everywhere. We do not think that there were any survivors." He paused, turning. "We found these Miirvkin pillaging the wreckage and managed to capture a few of them before we were forced to return."
The Duke rubbed his chin, stroking his thin grey beard. "This is grave news that you bring me Captain. But I thank you for your services to the King. I have some unfortunate news myself," he said. "Whilst you were away a messenger arrived notifying me of Guard Captain Kale's death in Precedin." A look of shock came over Captain Falneren. "This makes you Guard Captain of the armies of Andron. I know you will serve your King well, Edagar. Congratulations."
Edagar Falneren bowed once more, but his features showed sadness. "I hope that I can honour Guard Captain Kale's sacrifice. May I ask how he fell?"
"His men were ambushed whilst following Dargonian trails in the Beon Ranges. He was struck down by a quarrel."
Falneren nodded and lowered his head. The Duke motioned for him to approach and they spoke silently for a time. The Guard Captain spoke heatedly, at several times pointing at Thibalt and Christill, and the Duke simply listened, his chin resting on his palm.
"Bring forth the accused," called the Duke, once Falneren had finished.
The five prisoners were forced into the centre of the room. A hushed murmuring from sides of the hall caused them to turn and they saw that the seats around them were filled with individuals in dark robes. Christill moved closer to Thibalt, suddenly frightened in this unfamiliar environment.
"I, Duke Poleus of the second order of Skiye, loyal servant and representative of his highness, now call this trial into session," the Duke announced.
At first sight the Duke had appeared dispassionate and somewhat arrogant to the brothers. But now, as he leaned forward on his throne, he gave forth an aura of authority and command.
The door behind the throne opened and a thin man with wavy hair came forth, bearing a large tome and a quill. The man took a seat near the throne and motioned for the Duke to proceed.
The Duke cleared his voice and began the procession. "You are accused of the massacre of hundreds
of Feldonian citizens and the utter ravaging of Feldonian land. In my long years in Andron I have not heard of such an atrocious crime. So many innocent lives lost.
"The laws of our land state that each man brought forth to the justice of his highness will be allowed to present a statement of defence. Though it pains me to do so, I will allow one of you that right. Let the speaker step three paces forth and give his account."
Christill turned to Thibalt with sheer confusion in his eyes and could see a similar blank look on his face. Such a thing would never have been allowed in Miirvk. In Hamal, Lord Bearn ruled supreme and made all judgments without debate or opposition.
Reinar took three steps forward, holding his head high. "I will speak for my people."
"Then do go on," motioned the Duke.
"The violence that you speak of was not of our doing," began Reinar, which drew several snorts and scoffs from the seated men. "Despite what you may believe we would never bring such unrestrained harm to women and children. Though we came to your shores with what you would judge ill intent, the destruction of that village was as much a shock to my men as your own."
The Duke sat calmly on his throne, once again stroking his beard. The dark figures gathered around them chatted softly, whilst the thin man took notes in his bulky tome beside the Duke.
"Why should we believe you?" Duke Poleus asked. "You came to our land to plunder and kill, yet you expect us to believe that you had no part to play in the fate of that village?"
"We are a people of honour and follow the will of Beon. Believe what you will, but I tell the truth," Reinar replied confidently.
"Very well," replied the Duke. He then looked at Thibalt and Christill, lingering on Thibalt for a long while. "You two, come forth," he ordered. They quickly obeyed and moved towards the throne. "You are unlike any Miirvkin I have ever set eyes upon, and the Guard Captain tells me you claim to be captives of the Miirvkin. What is your part in this?"
"We are not Miirvkin, my lord." Christill spoke. "We are born of this land, kidnapped at birth by your captives. Taken from the very town in which you captured us, eighteen years ago." He motioned towards Reinar. "We were running from them, attempting an escape, when your soldiers found us."
"An interesting tale," replied the Duke. He looked at Thibalt and let kept his eyes fixed on him for a long time. "How strange," he mused. "Tell me boy, what is your name?"
"Thibalt, my lord."
"Hmm," mumbled the Duke. "Not familiar. And your fathers name?" he continued.
Thibalt shrugged his shoulders but moments later Reinar called out, "It is Steelfist."
There were a few murmurs from the crowd and many of the seated figures began conversing loudly. Thibalt was shocked to find that Reinar had hidden his own name from him, but was not given time to linger on it.
"I had some suspicion," said the Duke. "I could not place it at first, but you do bear a striking resemblance." He summoned a young man to his throne and whispered into his ear. The man hurried out of the room and into the streets. "Tell me something," he continued. "How have you survived so long as captives of our enemies."
"We were raised alongside..." began Thibalt, but he was cut off by Christill.
"My brother means to say forced to grow up alongside the Miirvkin. We had no choice in the matter."
The Duke raised his brow. "Interesting," he commented. "If your story is true then there is still one aspect that I am struggling to comprehend. Why is it that you were brought back to Feldom?"
"We hid on the ship before they left Hamal," answered Christill quickly. He felt it best to avoid mentioning that Thibalt had been part of the raid.
With narrowed eyes, the Duke pursed his lips in contemplation.
"Please believe that we are innocent. There is nothing that we wish for more than to return to our homeland," Christill added.
Several anxious minutes passed and the Duke sat in silence tapping his fingers together in thought. Thibalt and Christill remained in the centre of the large chamber, under the watchful eye of the assembled men and women.
Then in a rush the young man that the Duke had sent out returned, followed by a broad shouldered man in a dirty leather apron.
"Ah, Master Steelfist. I thank you for your haste in coming to this council," said the Duke.
The man walked closer to the throne eyeing Reinar and the other Miirvkin. He had dark brown hair, that was matted to his already dirty face and a bushy moustache that covered most of his upper lip. His facial features were chiselled in underneath the layer of grime. "It is of no matter, Andre. Just try not to keep me too long," The man replied in a deep voice.
The brothers caught a better look at the man named Oswald as he stepped closer to the throne and both caught their breath.
"I wish to present to you a young man that was captured with these Miirvkin raiders in the ruins of your old home, Carlor." The Duke motioned at Thibalt and as Oswald turned to catch his first glimpse of him, he stepped back in shock.
"I expect that you can see the resemblance," said the Duke.
Thibalt could not take his eyes from the man before him. Beneath the layer of dirt were a set of features that unmistakeably mirrored his own.
"What magic is this?" mumbled Oswald.
"He claims to bear your name," pointed out the Duke. "Claims to have been taken from Carlor eighteen year ago."
"It cannot be," said Oswald, stepping up to Thibalt slowly. "You survived!"
"Do you know this boy?"
"No," replied Oswald. "But I fathered a son in Carlor before I left the village. He was said to have died along with his mother."
Thibalt did not know how to react. He could not believe that there was a chance that this man was his father. He had not known what to expect from his true family, but this man was not what he had pictured. "My mother is dead?" he asked.
"Aye lad," replied Oswald. "She was murdered by the Miirvkin that attacked Carlor that night, so many years ago."
Thibalt had never met his mother but felt furious. Reinar's words, about the pride of the Miirvkin and their reluctance to hurt women and children now seemed so hollow.
Christill watched Oswald and Thibalt and suddenly found a sinking feeling in his stomach. He held no resemblance to this man. He turned to Reinar and asked, "My name is not Steelfist, is it?" Reinar waited a moment before shaking his head. "The name found on your clothing was Greyspell."
"Greyspell! called out Oswald. He moved over to Christill and grabbed his chin, examining Christill's face. He let Christill go and stepped back, raising his hands to his head. "The gods are punishing me."
"You know this name?" asked the Duke.
"The very cause of my departure from Carlor was a betrayal from which I fathered a son out of wedlock."
Christill was dumbstruck.
"I bedded a young serving maid named Lissi and could not face Iara once she learned the truth. Yet Lissi died in birth. The child was said to have been lost as well." He let out deep breath. "Perhaps Skiye has seen fit to chastise me for my infidelity."
"Well this is indeed interesting," said the Duke. He then rose from his throne. "I will hold a private council," he announced, summoning a few of the robed figures, along with the scribe, into the room behind the throne. Oswald was asked to join them and they were left to wait inside the council room, under the watchful eye of Guard Captain Falneren.
Time passed slowly as the brothers struggled to come to terms with the recent revelations . Both had learned that their mothers were no longer alive, and were now faced with their supposed father.
The Duke and his retinue then returned to the council room. "I have come to a decision," he announced. "As the Miirvkin came to our shores with the intent to pillage and kill, we have but one choice. The Miirvkin will be executed at midday tomorrow."
Thibalt and Christill gasped. They looked over at Reinar and the other two raiders who all stood tall and proud, not showing any weakness to their enemies.
"However there still remains a great mystery surrounding the destruction of Carlor. To find you in the burnt out ruins of the village remains aberrant. Had you been the cause of the horror inflicted on those people, you would have held no reason to remain there following the attack. In light of this one of you will be sent back to your homeland. You will carry a warning to your lords. Your raids will cease for good from this day forth. If you fail to heed that warning, the might of the Feldonian army will be brought to your shores. And may Beon protect you if that day comes.
"Furthermore, regarding Thibalt Steelfist and Christill Greyspell, on the word of Oswald Steelfist, it is my belief that they may indeed be innocent. Their appearance by all accounts marks their Feldonian heritage, and though their tale seems far fetched, we will not punish them without evidence to the contrary.
"Under Skiye's law we are all made to pay for our indiscretions. Oswald Steelfist is no exception to this. Thus to correct the wrongs of the past, Oswald will be appointed as caretaker for the two brothers. They will be placed under his guardianship for two seasons, where they will be forced to prove that their intentions are just."
The Duke rose from his throne, "Which of you will return to your homeland?" he asked.
The other Miirvkin raiders pushed Reinar forward, he turned in anger and ordered them to take his place, but in the end they convinced him that he would best be able to relate the events to Lord Bearn. Reinar finally gave in. "I will return," he replied solemnly.
"Very well. The execution will happen in the town square at midday tomorrow. All praise Skiye," finished the Duke.
Guard Captain Falneren walked up to Thibalt and Christill and removed their bindings. "The gods must have been watching you today," he said and he pushed them towards Oswald. He then motioned for his men to take the Miirvkin away and left the room.
In their final moment together, before he was taken from the hall, Reinar turned to the boys and said, "My blood oath to you is paid."
CHAPTER FIVE
THE CALL OF THE KING