My Story Chapters 4-6

Chapter Four
The Knightly Sword and the Journey

The early morning stars glowed, and the eastern horizon, was barely touched with rays of pink light, when all of Kandar’s crewmen were in the courtyard awaiting their captain’s arrival.
The ship was loaded with provisions and fresh water. Any torn sails had been patched, the rigging inspected thoroughly, tiller and rudder examined with care, overall the whole ship had been scrutinized painstakingly.
Kandar was taking orders from the earl, and Torin was in stables saying good-bye to Tristar, his horse. “Goodbye Tristar, I will come back and by that time, you and I will be able to ride like the wind. Farewell.”
Torin left the stables and crossed the courtyard. The earl materialized beside him.
“Torin, my son,” he said. “Here is your knightly sword. I know you will live up to be a good knight, worthy of honor. I bid you a farewell.”
Head spinning, Torin felt something cold and hard pressed into his hand. Then the earl was gone. He looked down at his sword and scabbard, the cross-hilt of shining silver, the double-handed hilt with a sapphire set in the pommel fit his hand perfectly. He drew the sword. The light, strong, perfectly balanced blade gleamed in the early dawn. The scabbard was silver ivy, circling around a bronze background.
Kandar called to Torin, “My brother, the sun almost shows, it is time we are on our way. Come, do let us depart.”
Looking back, Torin gazed at his beloved castle. Battlements and parapets glowed in the early dawn, the spires of the great hall and buildings seemed to be tipped with gold. The large stone courtyard was empty; the great double gates were open and the heavy portcullis was raised to allow the townspeople to go about their various duties in and around the castle. The smithy and warehouses were at one end of the courtyard and the stables and barracks were at the other.
The ship waited in the bay. Torin bid farewell to the earl who had come along and thanked him for the beautiful sword. The earl just smiled his quiet smile and nodded. The twitter of birds in the trees sounded like silver bells. All was quiet and still.
Torin turned to Carlin, “Carlin,” he said. “If you get that young lady, I wish you best of luck.” Carlin blushed and pounded him on the back with considerable force. “I’ll miss you, Torin me mate, so watch yourself. If you return here harmed I’ll never forgive you.”
Torin winked. “In that case I will do my best to watch myself. Until next we meet, pal!”
The longboats were tied in the shallows, the men climbed in, and rowed to the ship, Queen Sunset. There was no mistaking the pride Kandar took in his ship when he helped Torin onto the deck. “Welcome onto me ship, Queen Sunset, the most beautiful piece o’ wood ever to sail the seas. Come on, Torin, I’ll show you to your cabin.”
Torin followed Kandar, down a flight of stairs, into the crew’s quarters, through a couple doors, and into a hallway. Kandar motioned at a closed door. “In there’s your room, brother. I hope you’ll like it. Nice view of the sea and my cabin is just next to yours.”
Torin thanked him and entered, feeling every so slightly queasy. He looked his room. A large bunk was in the corner, and opposite it was a sea chest for clothing and the like. A large window was at the far side of the room. Torin opened it and felt the draft of early-morning sea air, which was quite refreshing.
Hearing the cry to cast off, Torin threw his satchel of things on his bed and, walked out onto the deck. He joined Kandar at the tiller, and stood watching the shore go farther and farther away. They sailed on and on always keeping the coast in sight. Torin went below and unpacked his satchel into the chest and found a set of oilskins for bad weather as well as a pair of sea boots.
Torin explored the upper decks and met the cook, a plump, good-natured old man who was an expert shot with a frying pan, as a couple new apprentices from Castle Rallsin found out when they decided to raid the kitchen.
The two lower decks had barrels, sacks and casks of provisions and water. Separate rooms held spare sails, rope, and other seafaring things. Purely out of curiosity, Torin scaled the rigging and climbed into the crow’s nest. The lookout greeted him cordially and pointed out the distant rocky shoreline, and spirals of smoke that showed where a settlement or castle was.
The first night, Torin went up on deck with Kandar. The sunset made rays of pink, red, orange, and purple light stretch out toward the eastern horizon. Night’s first few stars twinkled. The forest-covered coast looked almost black. From below deck, in the crew’s quarters came the strains of a lone flute playing a beautiful melody. The brothers stood side by side, leaning on the deck railing. Everything seemed so peaceful and beautiful.
“Kandar,” Torin asked. “How could evil ever come here? This country is as peaceful a forest glade.”
“Torin, don’t ask how I know. To me it just seems that peace has gone on too long, much too long. It has been at least fifteen or twenty years since the last invasion. Don’t get me wrong, I love times of peace. But the warrior in me is just saying that something is coming soon.”
Torin thought about it for awhile. “I suppose that you might be right, my brother, but if I were you I would intend not to worry too much about it, if we just stay alert and watchful, we will not be taken by surprise if this evil shows itself.”
And so the days went on, always sunny and cloudless. It was obvious that the crew respected their captain a great deal. Each order was carried out with the utmost care and detail. In turn, Kandar was good and kind to his sailors, creating overall, an atmosphere of contentment.
Torin observed this and noted that his elder brother was indeed a great man. Meanwhile, Torin adjusted to the usual schedule of the day: all men woke at the watch men’s early morning bell, and had a breakfast of oranges and boiled eggs. Then an inspection of the ship to make sure everything was in shape.
Then the men usually hauled buckets of sea water and washed down the decks. After that was done, some men fished or held wrestling matches. Lunch was bread and meat. In the afternoon the men sat around and napped or went swimming with lines attached to their waists. Supper was ale, meat, cheese and bread. Then, after supper, there were big bonfires on deck, and the telling of stories, at which Torin naturally excelled. The nights were peaceful with cool breezes and low stars. There were amazing constellations at night on the sea.
There were mock swordfights and pretend battles now and again, and every day there was sword practice. Kandar’s Queen Sunset needed very little help to navigate her way through the waters, just an expert hand on her rudder and a lookout on both her crow’s nest and stern.
The Queen Sunset sailed around the Tarnian coast, with a wind behind her sails. High cliffs of red granite sometimes towered above them, thousands of feet high, rearing toward the heavens. Woodlands often occupied the shores, deep, dark, cool woodlands that seemed to whisper secrets to those who would listen.
The ship sailed up to where the northern mountains started and where the air was chilled and snow and sleet fell at night, and all hands on deck was required all the time. The ship sailed back down the western coast, finding nothing amiss. Kandar stopped at various ports and castles and swapped news.
However, as they came close to the cape of Tarn, the men became nervous and edgy and there was an air of foreboding on the ship.
Torin, who was usually cheerful, became rather uneasy himself when he saw weapons being sharpened and kept close to hand. He himself began to practice more with his own sword. The young man thought of something the earl had once told him, “A true-born warrior and a seasoned sailor can always tell when there is danger afoot.”


Chapter Five
A Past Unveiled

One night, Kandar took the tiller. He relieved all the watchmen and they went below deck. Kandar lashed the tiller in place, due southeast and asked Torin to join him on watch.
The brothers walked around the great deck, looking at the dark sea, shiny and flecked with light from the lantern at the stern of the ship. The sky was covered with clouds. The wind hissed through the rigging making the sails swell slightly. All was strangely silent. Below in the crew’s quarters, there was only the noise of mournful lute music.
Torin broke the stillness, “Kandar, the night you arrived, you said you had something of great importance to tell me, would you tell me now?”
“Indeed, I shall tell you,” Kandar replied, rather hesitantly. “That is why I called you up here. I wish to tell you of our past. The earl was going to tell you, but I believe it is my duty to do so, as I am your elder brother. I will tell you of our parents. Our father was Lekarsa, ruler of the people of the northern mountains. It was a warring land, as the other rulers there were constantly feuding with one another. It was the unspoken law of Tarn: that the wild warriors of the north would help protect Tarn in times of danger.
“Our father’s tribe, the Tulisean, was the strongest in the north. Almost every tribe looked to him as their ruler and their king. Lekarsa easily could have made all of the north his realm, and could have been monarch of it all. Instead, he decided to move down to the south, to help protect the coasts. He took the entire tribe with him. The people of the northern mountains swore to come to his aid if they were ever needed. During the journey south, our tribe stopped at a very prosperous castle where they spent the winter. Our father fell in love and married Anadar, the beautiful princess of the castle. They and the tribe moved on and built their own castle in the fertile southern lands of Tarn. Their castle, which they called Esdan, soon became a stronghold against enemies. Esdan was the strongest fortress in Tarn and no army could defeat it. They tried, but could not.”
“I was born in the spring after the castle was built; our father was overjoyed to have a son. As soon as I was tall enough to mount a horse, I think I had only seen eight springs, our father began to train me in the way of a good Tulisean warrior.”
“When our father had lived in the mountains he had had an enemy, Varka Ragan, who was immortal. Varka Ragan had been trying for years to capture Tarn, and each time he had failed, because of the steady protection of our father.
“However, in my fifteenth spring, just after you, Torin, were born, Varka Ragan attacked again. This time he had a vast force of evil beings he had somehow created; all were as evil as he. He attacked at night, surrounding the castle, and launching huge bales of burning oiled hay over the walls. Our father and the warriors did not panic; they simply put the women and children inside the keep and formed in their battle positions.
“We passed around bows and arrows, and many an evil follower was pierced by the flying darts of the Tulisean warriors. The enemy breached the wall and knocked down the gates with fiery battering rams, and we attacked back with the ferocity of wolves. Our mother, Anadar, had the women act as helpers to the wounded. We were winning the battle, but then Varka Ragan decided to call in the reinforcements he had set aside.
“Before and during the battle, some of his minions had been digging a tunnel from the outside of the walls, under the foundation, and up into the middle of the keep, where the women and children were. The followers slaughtered all of them, sparing only those fit to be slaves. Our mother died while defending the weak.”
Kandar swallowed and looked at his brother. Torin stared off at the dark eastern horizon, with a grim face like iced granite. “Continue, please,” he grated hoarsely. Kandar nodded and commenced with his story.
“I heard the screams inside and opened the door of the keep just in time to see our mother die. My father saw her too and ran to her side. Our father kissed her forehead, and sat looking into her face, while I protected his back. Then Varka Ragan stood on the threshold, with his minions behind him, the full moon reflecting off his armor, casting off glints into our faces. All our warriors were in the keep, forming their battle positions.”
“Our father led the charge. Never was there a battle more ferociously fought than the battle of Esdan. Our father battled with the fierceness of a wolf pack, killing and slaying as he tried to reach Varka Ragan. A band of fighters and me drove the rest of the foe from the keep and tended to the wounded. I looked out the door and saw that our father was cornered at the wall, and I ran out to help him.
“Cutting a swathe through the right flank of the army, I saw that our father had reached Varka Ragan and was doing battle with him. I went behind Varka Ragan and stabbed him in the shoulder. Our father nodded at me and slashed at his enemy’s chest, wounding his foe. Our father called to me in the language of the Tulisean chieftains, and told me to ride to castle Rallsin for aid. I replied that I would stay here until death to defend our people, as I had sworn in the warrior’s oath I had taken. Our father wounded Varka Ragan again in the knee and reminded me that I had also sworn to obey the chieftain. I went reluctantly.
“I rode away on the stallion belonging to our father. I looked back in time to see him, Lekarsa the ruler of the Tulisean, the greatest warrior of all times, fall, as Varka Ragan stabbed him in the shoulder, and a follower stabbed him in the back.
“I rode on to castle Rallsin, weeping for our parents. When the earl heard my story, he immediately organized an army to go and wage war on the hosts of Varka Ragan. When we got to the ruined castle, there was nothing living in sight. I suddenly remembered you, and searched for you. I found you beside the body our father; I know not how you got to him, as you were only a few weeks old. You had been cut deeply with a blade on your cheek, and left for dead.”
Torin fingered again the deep scar on his cheek. A follower’s blade cut that mark on me forever, he thought. Another notion dawned on him, I was dreaming of the battle, the kind female face is my mother’s, the other one is my father’s, and Kandar too. Kandar looked at his younger brother seeing their father’s warrior spirit rise in his face. How often had he seen that look of burning hatred in his father’s face when he heard Varka Ragan’s recent attacks!
Kandar continued. “Two days after the battle it dawned on me that Varka Ragan had killed my tribe and my kin. I realized that I was now the ruler of the Tulisean tribe, once the strongest in the north. My tribe had been felled by the sheer weight of the enemy whose numbers were far greater than our own. I burned with a murderous rage and vowed to slay him, I would have gone to find him and my life would have been forfeit, had I not remembered you. I looked at you and saw another heir of our father, one who would some day be a warrior just like him. My rage cooled, for a time, knowing that I had a brother that would help me fight against the enemy who had slain all we had held dear.”
Kandar handed a medallion to Torin. “When I found you, you were clutching this in your hand. It is the medal of a Tulisean king. Our father would have wanted you to have it. I have one as well, around my neck. There had always been two in use in our tribe, one by the king himself, and the other by the heir to the throne. Now as there is only two remaining of our tribe then we both are entitled to have them.”
With an impassive face, Torin studied the medal. There was a sword embedded in a mountain surrounded by waves. In the center of the medal was a green leaf. The whole medal was made with extreme ingenuity. It was crafted out colored silver, and in the center of the leaf was a tiny delicate emerald.
Torin finally spoke, “You wish me to join you and help look for Varka Ragan and slay him? I consent. As it was our parents who were killed, I believe it is my duty to assist you. Besides,” and he allowed himself a grim smile. “It will be an adventure I will not easily forget.”
Kandar nodded. “Thank you, my brother. I need your help.”
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The morning was cloudy and overcast, a cool wind blew making the ropes hiss quietly; the crew, as well as Kandar and Torin were strangely silent. The only sounds were a few mumbled words. The morning chores were done, and the deck scrubbed in complete silence.
It was nearing noon, and the clouds were hanging lower, when the lookout hurried over to Kandar. “Cap’n,” he said. “We are nearing castle Sorrel, and there is a really big sheet of smoke where the castle is supposed to be, sir. Aye, and the cook said to tell ye, sir, we’re running’ low on water, we just hit our last keg, sir.”
Kandar replied. “Right, assemble the crew, look out for a suitable landing spot and make ready the boats.”
The lookout saluted smartly, and ran off to do as he was told.
In a short time, the ship was anchored in the tide and the seven boats lowered and filled with each half a score of well-armed crew. A few sailors and the cook had been left on board the Queen Sunset.
The wind was brisk and cold, the water, icy. Torin pulled hard on the oars and tried to ignore the stinging bite of the cold sea breeze by thinking why he had left his cloak in his cabin. The sound of sand crunching against the bottom of the boat brought him back to reality. Torin helped haul the boats up above the tide line and overturn them.
Looking closely through the trees, Kandar saw the flickering flames. His warrior instinct’s told him that this was no mere fire. Evil had been done here, and he was sure he knew who it was. “Hurry,” he cried. “We must help.”
And he sprinted off through the trees in the direction of the castle with the crew on his heels.

Chapter Six
An Angering Discovery

As the company of sailors neared the small smoking castle it was obvious that nothing could be done to put out the blazing flames. All four outer walls that protected the castle were torn down; only a few parts still remained standing.
“Captain,” said Darce, the first mate. “We can’t do anything to help the people inside.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” snapped Kandar, and with no hesitation he leaped over the burning remains of the front gate with Torin in hot pursuit.
Leaping through the broken portcullis, the duo stopped aghast, as they surveyed the scene of carnage in the courtyard. A scorching hot wind blew through the haze of smoke, through which they saw the forms of dead men, women and children draped over broken beams and lying on the bloodstained ground.
Heaps of rubble stood everywhere, and the charred remains of wooden buildings indicated that these ruins were once that of a wealthy castle.
A slight movement at the north wall caught Kandar’s attention. Motioning for Torin to follow, he picked his way quietly over to the jerking body. It was that of a young man, obviously delirious with the pain of his horrific wounds.
As Kandar knelt down to hear the dying youth’s mumblings, Torin looked around once more at the massacre, wondering what army so large and what leader so evil could do such a thing. All the nobles in Tarn signed a treaty to live in peace and not to quarrel. Gazing at the huge piles of rubble and stone, Torin was sure that this was the evil that his elder brother had been talking about.
A sudden movement at the corner of his eye caught Torin’s attention and caused him to look quickly about. At the damaged corner of the south wall a dark cloaked shape was gliding away. It moved as if it had no legs and Torin heard a hiss, “Kandar of the Tulisean,” it seemed to say. Then suddenly the dark shape disappeared into the surrounding forest.
Torin twisted around and tapped Kandar, who had risen and was staring off into the distance. The gray-eyed elder brother turned, and Torin saw that his face was as pale as a sheet from wrath.
“Varka Ragan has returned,” grated Kandar. “He attacked the castle this morning at dawn with countless numbers of his followers and destroyed the castle and all in it.”
Torin nodded slowly. “Why such a waste of life?” he exploded. “Why would he do such a thing? Tell me not, Kandar, for I know why. He is trying to take Tarn for his own! To be able to conquer Tarn would mean he is trying to capture the entire of Calcarta! If one owned Tarn then it would be child’s play to conquer the rest of the countries.”
Kandar was breathing heavily with rage and Torin saw that his brother was in danger of falling over in a faint. Leading his fury-filled brother out of the ruins, the younger brother guided his angered kin back to the crew.
Bidding his elder brother to sit down, Torin asked the crew to dig a grave and bury the dead. The crew agreed, deciding not to ask question.
As he marked out the mass grave, the younger brother thought about what had happened in the castle. He could picture the phantoms of Varka Ragan storming the gates, setting fire to the castle, killing all in it. How could this happen? He asked himself. The people did nothing wrong to deserve this. And as he thought about it, it fully dawned on Torin that Varka Ragan was trying to capture the very peaceful country that been in peace for many a year. His home.
Some of the crew dug the grave, while others carried the bodies from the castle. Torin helped out with the latter. He felt an overwhelming sorrow when he saw the people being laid in the mass grave. A golden-curled young page, a black-eyed knight, still clutching a sword in his death grip, a young dark-haired maiden, a lifeless mother holding a dead child’s hand…
When the gruesome and sorrowful task was ended, half of the crew set up camp beside in forest, and the other half went back to the ship for necessary items and foraged for food. After setting up a lean-to, Torin lead the angry Kandar inside, bidding him rest.
The young brother went back to the beach and stepped into one of the long boats waiting there. Rowing out to the ship, he decided to get his armor and fighting equipment, for he knew, that no matter what, Kandar would undoubtedly try and kill Varka Ragan, despite any obstacles that lay before him.
Climbing aboard the ship, Torin started thinking, for some reason, about the shadow he saw. As he walked down the stairway, it dawned on him that the shadow he had seen was actually a phantom of Varka Ragan, spying on them.
He unlocked the door to his cabin and knelt at his sea-chest and began pulling out his armor, a shiny breastplate, a chain mail tunic, leg and arm guards, a gleaming helmet, and a green-weave cloak. Torin touched the hilt of his sword and thought once more of the kind, gray-haired earl whom he regarded as a father.
As he stepped into the wood hall, the young man decided to bring Kandar’s armor too. He opened the door to his elder brother’s cabin, and realized that this was the first time he had ever been in the small room.
A large cot stood at one end of the little cabin, opposite a large window. An elaborately carved wood and silver chest stood in the corner, beside a large bookshelf filled with thick leather bound volumes.
Torin knelt at the chest and opened it. Underneath the oilskins and sea boots, Kandar’s silver armor glittered in the dim cabin. Torin lifted the armor out and was about to close the chest when a small flash of silver caught his eye. Putting down the armor, the young man uncovered the silver, which turned out to be a dagger blade. Upon the hilt a small emblem sparkled: a mountain, a sword, waves, and a leaf: the sign of the Tulisean.
Torin’s eyes misted over as he clenched his hand over the hilt, this dagger had belonged to his father, the father whom he had never known.
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Meanwhile, the shadow Torin had seen in the ruins of the castle was making its way through the alder and pine trees of the south forest. The afternoon sun made a pale green light flow everywhere. Barely a leaf rustled beneath the shadow’s cloak. Glowing eyes was all could be seen of the phantom’s face. Before the phantom, a small clearing was visible, and it glided into the glade and stopped.
A large, elaborate tent was set up in the clearing, and in the surrounding forest, makeshift lean-tos were set up. The phantom made straight for the big tent. Nodding to the two guards that stood at the shelter’s entrance, the wraith stepped inside the tent and bowed low before the figure seated on a chair.
“What is it, Raka?” the man asked irritably. “Has someone found the castle we raided this morning?”
The wraith dared to raise his eyes to the speaker. From the icy penetrating black eyes, the mouth set in a permanent frown, to the black chain mail suit and tunic covering the muscular body, to glittering sword and heavy boots, Varka Ragan was an impressive warlord by all means.
The phantom trembled, knowing that the warlord would not be pleased with his answer. “Sire,” it hissed. “The crew belonging to Kandar of the Tulisean found the castle we raided. Kandar himself brings with him a youth mayhap his kin.”
“What?!” yelled Varka Ragan as he whirled around to face the trembling wraith. “Kandar of the Tulisean?! He should be dead I tell you! I thought I killed him with the arrow at our last battle at sea. And now he comes seeking me again!”
Varka Ragan scowled irascibly and turned to stare into the dark shadows of his tent. A plan was already forming in the warlord’s active mind. He glared at his second in command, the wraith Raka, “Get up off the floor and cease your shivering. Muster the followers and tell them to prepare for battle, we attack an hour after sunset. Move now!”
Bowing, the wraith left the tent. Once outside, he threw back his head and gave an ear-piercing hiss. Phantoms, clothed in black with scimitars at their sides, emerged from everywhere. Raka, their chief, gave them the warlord’s message.
The wraiths once hearing the message, then went back to their tents and began to prepare for battle. The chief wraith went to his tent and began to sharpen his sword.
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Torin, his arms full of armor, made his way through the darkening forest toward the clearing, and made straight for Kandar’s lean-to. Looking into the shelter, Torin saw that Kandar was putting a lethal edge to his sword blade.
After depositing the armor by his elder brother’s side, Torin proceeded to test Kandar’s sword blade edge with his thumb. “Lords of thunder, that’s sharp, brother. Here, I brought your armor.”
Kandar looked up. “Torin,” he said resolutely, “I am going to attack Varka Ragan tonight, after sunset.”
Torin blinked and shook his head in stunned amazement, “You can’t do that!” he retorted. “It would be certain death for you if you did that. You have the lives of the crew and your own to think about. You can’t just rush in there and start slaying. You have no idea how many followers he has!”
“None of that worries me,” Kandar spat as he stared off into the darkening sky. “I care not how many followers he has and what they do. I swore to kill Varka Ragan and that I will do. Tonight.” Kandar started to stand up. Torin placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders and forced him back down.
“Kandar,” he said. “I saw one of Varka Ragan’s wraiths in the forest today. It was watching you and me when we went inside the castle. It turned around and headed into the south forests, but before it left I heard it hiss your name.”
Kandar looked into his brother’s brown eyes, so like their mother’s. “That wraith would have alerted Varka Ragan,” he said thoughtfully. “And as I am a threat to Varka, he will surely attack tonight. When you have known your enemy for twenty years, you know him very well. Go, Torin, and tell the mates to come to my tent, for now we will discuss our battle plans.”
Torin sighed, and went to do as he was told. Heading out into the sunset-lit clearing, the younger brother realized that he was actually going to go to battle. Not merely a skirmish as had happened once before at castle Rallsin, but a real battle.
Torin alerted the mates and sent them to Kandar’s lean-to. He then made a shelter of his own, and began to put on his armor.
First came the chain-mail suit over his thick tunic, then a leather jerkin. He placed the shining breastplate over the jerkin and latched the buckles. Arm and leg guards snapped on and were fastened. Attaching the cloak to his shoulders, Torin put his helmet under his arm and picked up his sword. After placing it in its sheath, he picked up his throwing and hunting dagger and thrust it through his leather belt. Lastly of all, he picked up the medal that Kandar had given him and tied it around his neck.
Sunset’s last gold rays were fading and the twilight’s first stars were gleaming when Torin stepped out if his lean-to, armor shining in the twilight. Cloak swirling behind him, he made his way over to Kandar’s shelter.
Torin of the Tulisean was ready for battle.