Tundavik
Tundavik Vandes walked the dirt path between empty patches of ground. A brown barn jutted out of the once golden fields. The manor behind him was made of the wood chopped from the forest that once surrounded Ruwy. Banners rippled from the windows in the cold winter breeze, the sigil was of a hundred trees encircling an iron seat. Peasants and farmhands who would have broken their backs working the harvest were all gone as winter set in. The land deserted except for the slaves. They cared for the animals and cooked for the manor; planted winter rye and cabbage. The cracking of a whip could be heard on occasion. Reports of slaves rebelling along two of the Three Rivers worried those who lived along the River Arner. Lord Delan wanted none of that.
The barn was weathered like it had been out there for thousands of years. It smelled of mildew and the door creaked on its hinges, sending sheep fleeing to the pasture. Moans escaped from the worker’s quarters in the back of the barn. Tundavik couldn’t believe people were able to sleep so near the smells of sheep shit.
He opened the door and saw Burt, an older farmhand, with his lips wrapped around Sir Mar’s cock. Tundavik knocked and Burt jumped for a pillow for cover. “It’s alright.” He pursed his lips at the naked knight. “Not to rip you away from your pleasure, but I think it’s time we left.”
He had come with Mar to Ruwy a week ago. The knight’s face dropped when he was told where he was going, the seat of his family, but the Eastlands was between the Lands of Asara and the Flewthlands. They had to get to Storyah. Lord Blume would listen to their pleas for aid, and Tundavik would do anything to get more men to fight this war.
Mar wobbled to his clothes and slipped on his gray trousers and tunic. He patted Burt’s bare ass and said, “It’s been fun. Maybe I’ll stop by next time.” The farmhand blushed. “My father always knew how to pick them.” He winked.
Mar slipped his boots on as they walked back up the dirt path. The manor looming overhead as a winter storm cast shadows from the west. “What made you want to leave today? Why not yestermorn like I wished? Why come at all?”
Tundavik kicked some pebbles off the path. A cluster of houses was near the river, the barn behind them, the manor ahead. “A safe place during a war is a good thing. Even if it is with your parents.”
“Mar?” A voice shouted from along the Arner, near the homes and shops of peasants. A man on horseback in glistening plate armor with two guards wearing surcoats with the symbol of Ruwy kicked his horse to fly over the barren fields. “I cannot believe it’s you.” He jumped to the ground and embraced Mar. His hair was darker than Mar’s and he was a head taller but his eyes the same gray. “Brother.” He kissed Mar’s cheeks.
“It’s good to see you Reren.” Mar pulled away. “Mother said you were off scouting.”
“Making sure no slaves rebelled or armies marched north. We wish to stay out of this war as long as possible. Let the young Duke Adyn lead the rest of the Eastlands to their death. Not Ruwy.” He embraced a stiff Mar again. “Why are you here? I believe the last time, oh, a decade ago, you promised on Veltoora that you would never step foot north of the Arner.”
“Times changed.” Mar looked to Tundavik. “Lord Vandes,” Mar introduced and Tundavik winced at the title ‘lord,’ but he nodded a hello at Reran who returned the favor.
“How do you do?” Reran asked.
“Traveling is hard,” Tundavik said, “We’ve been in Ruwy for a week resting.”
“Travels?” Reran said. “Has my brother finally decided Eotros is where he is meant to be?”
“We’re going to Storyah,” Mar said pointing to the northeast. “You don’t want the war to come this far north, but I do. We’re off to treat with the Duke of the Flewthlands. Ask for support.”
“Support for whom?”
“Hurvir’s son, the rightful heir.”
Reran laughed even though no one else did, then his face became one of worry. “After everything that happened in Vikry when the Rainvealandians invaded you wish to fight another war?” Reran rubbed his mare’s snout. “Never thought I’d see it.”
“We’re going to say goodbye to mother and father and be out of Ruwy by nightfall. If Lord Blume does give us an army, I’ll try my best to keep them along the coast.”
“Thoughtful.” Reran said with sarcasm as he turned to the wooden manor. “Well, they’ll want to see me too. Shall we?”
Reran and his guards led the way to the manor, their horses kicking dirt from the path into Tundavik’s eyes. Groomsmen took the mares and the group entered the seat of Ruwy. Candles lined the walls. Shadows pulled them into corners and dark rooms. House slaves bowed as Reran went by, guards straightened their backs. The future heir, and Mar the second son. They entered the great hall, but there was nothing great about it, not like the Crossing or Gereduss. It reminded Tundavik of the keep in Ritaeum, his old home. Dark and feeling like you’ve entered a forest. The ceilings were low, and the iron seat wasn’t even on a dais, it was at the same level as the commoners who would come to complain.
Delan and Memi, Mar’s mother, were sitting at a table to the side. Reading and writing letters. A single window behind the seat let in the scattered sunlight from behind the storm clouds. Mar’s parents did a double take when they saw the group. Memi running to Reran and kissing his face all over.
“It’s been weeks since we last heard from you.” She lightly slapped his head. “We were worried you were sucked into battle.”
“No battle mother.” He embraced her. “But sending messengers gets dangerous in times of war.”
“I see you found Marlen.” Delan said as he embraced his heir. “I thought Veltoora was going to crack open and swallow us all when he arrived.”
“It was a good surprise.” Reran said. Mar had sunk behind the guards. “No news along the Arner either.” Reran said. “The slaves were going about their usual business and I only heard tales of battles near the Byway and Winterlake.”
“We had news from Redington.” Delan said. “Apparently Ultiir’s forces are carrying out executions on rebels.” Mar cleared his throat. Probably thinking the same as Tundavik. Sir Raimund had gone to Redington weeks ago, and he hadn’t returned. Mar’s best friend. Possibly dead. Would Raimund be stupid enough to fight alone? Be killed as a rebel. “I never thought that man had it in him. Always the quiet one watching his brother destroy the kingdom. Turns out he’s more like Hurvir than even he thought.”
“Enough about the war,” his wife said, “we’re lucky that no fighting has made its way to Ruwy. Both Marlen and Reran are here and Meret had graced us with another winter. Shall we celebrate?”
“My lord and lady,” Tundavik said, “your son and I think it’s best we left tonight. We’ve come to say goodbye and thank you for your hospitality.”
“No need Lord Vandes.” Delan said, “Seeing our son once more is all the thanks we need.” Mar huffed.
Memi nodded and said, “Just one more night. The cooks are making goose, and I know how much our Marlen loves a good goose.”
“Fine.” Mar said hidden behind the guards.
***
The two geese were golden brown, filling the dining hall with the smells of honey and orange. Bread was passed around the table to be smothered in jam. Candied fruit littered the center of the table. Cooks and slaves bustled around the room, filling goblets with wine and wiping away messes. Delan sat at the head of the table with his wife and Reran to the side, another chair had to be found for Mar to join them. Tundavik made sure to sit near Mar and away from the household staff who conversed about finances and harvests and the ever-looming threat of war. It seemed like Ruwy was completely untouched by war, even the food was in abundance. If the Flewthmen join me the feasts will surely stop. Eventually all Delan and Memi will have is roots.
“And where is your wife?” Mar had to shout to Reran over the noise of the instruments being played on a small stage.
Reran drank his wine and said, “When news of the war spread I sent Luxe and Orson to Coaston in Maera.”
“Orson?”
“My son.” Reran said with a bright smile. “He has seen five summers. I guess you never would’ve seen him have you?” He brushed his brown hair from his face.
“He is as handsome as his father and is going to be just as strong.” Memi said.
Mar played with his thumbs. Tundavik passed yellow butter to Mar for his bread. “You’ve been away a while,” he said to the knight.
“Never imagined Reran as much of a father,” he said as quiet as he could over the noise, “but I guess someone has to continue our family lineage.”
His father must’ve heard that because he said, “We’ll be lords of Ruwy until the end of time,” and drank his wine with a laugh.
The night continued with more food and drink. Mar requested wine and ale and fermented horse milk from Eotros. The doma came in before dessert to preach the importance of Mother Meret and to give her offerings for blessing winter upon the world. Delan offered an extra goose to the cookfire much to Mar’s dismay. Tundavik ate some candied ginger before slices of custard tart were brought.
Mar hiccuped instead of eating. Watching his brother laugh with his parents about jokes and stories Mar wasn’t there for. His eyes started to lower as the night drug on. Tundavik wanted to leave as well. The band had stopped to eat after playing a rather lousy rendition of ‘The Joy of Lady Hart.’ The doma was still preaching about Meret. The staff picked at their teeth and complained about the Lands of Asara dragging all of Viguran into war.
Tundavik leaned over his plate, getting close to Lord Delan. “My lord. I know it’s been some time since we talked last about the war, but it would bring me and Mar great pleasure if you joined our side. Fought for the lawful heir.”
“Did I not tell you that I want Ruwy to stay out of this war?” The lord wiped his mouth of custard. “We’ve not enough men, slaves are feeling mutinous, and Lord Rely has never shown me kindness. I will support no one, even if my son supports the bastard.” Mar stood and went toward the door, Burt the farmhand was stuffing his face when the knight found him and they disappeared outside together. “My son has always had peculiar tastes. If Reran wished to fight for Devro then perhaps we could talk.”
Reran stared at his plate. “I feel the same as my father, I’ve already sent my wife and son away. I know how dangerous it can get.”
Tundavik wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t want to completely turn them away. “Then we’ll be gone before you wake.” Tundavik excused himself, hearing Memi wishing for Mar to stay.
His room was on the second story, as big as a closet. It was worse the first night when Mar slept in the room as well, but once the knight found someone to fuck, the room grew in size. The world was dark. Pitter patter of rain hit the roof and windows. Tundavik shivered as he crawled into bed and went to dream.
***
The forest was flooded by purple light from pools on the floor. The trees dead. The land barren. A manor twisted and destroyed by roots crashing through the ground. A throne carved from a tree trunk rose into the sky and Tundavik knew where he was. Ritaeum. His old home was darker than he remembered. There wasn’t a star in the sky as a thick mist shrouded everything. Shadows crawled near his feet grabbing at his ankles.
A voice boomed like thunder. “You must find Ryobas. He who rides Nardal. Time is fleeting.” The woman appeared in front of him. Bumps on her skin in swirling and snaking patterns. “The fall of the world is here. Nhamcaryn must be stopped. You must find the children. You must find Ryobas.”
Again he saw a great tree. Larger than any mountain he had ever seen. People below cried out for help as the tree began to fall. Then Tundavik realized the people were not humans, but elves. They ran as the limbs and leaves came crashing down, splitting the earth in two. Thousands upon thousands of elves dying. Screaming.
The world went even darker. The woman gone in a puff of smoke. The elvish screams vanishing. Fire roared overhead, blinding Tundavik, burning the trees and the shadows below. Tundavik couldn’t scream as he was engulfed in flames.
***
His brow was sticky with sweat once he woke, his heart pleading for peace. The sun had just begun to rise. The bedchamber soaking the light. Tundavik grabbed his head as he stood, wishing for the throbbing to stop. Wishing for whatever this woman wanted to stop. To stop hearing her voice as he slept. To stop seeing Ritaeum. His old home. The place where his family was massacred by the king.
Out the window guards and knights were running every which way, the common people shouting and pointing into the woods, horses rearing with excitement. Lord Delan and Memi were surrounded by swords. A barn was burned. Was my dream real? Did fire rain down from the heavens? Sheep surrounded the barn on the edge of newly planted cabbage fields. Mar, he thought as he whipped out of bed and down the stairs.
“What’s happened?” Tundavik asked anyone who would listen once he got outside.
“The slaves,” a cook said, “they attacked at night, burned the barn with men inside, fled into the woods.”
“How could you let this happen?” Delan yelled at a master with a whip at his side.” I told you to keep these slaves in line. How did they know about the revolts?”
“Some think slaves from the south came and rescued them.”
Delan backhanded the master. “You best join the hunting party or I’ll send you to the slaves along Sayer’s River. I hear they’re treating any masters they find very honorably,” his voice dripped with anger.
Tundavik raced to the barn, through the crowds of guards and peasants and workers. The remaining slaves were chained together, a few lay dead beside them. Swordsmen watching their every move. Embers and ash floated into the air from the barn. Empty buckets littered the field. Dead sheep and charred human bones were among the rubble.
His headache returned, but not from his dreams, but for Mar. Devro would be devastated if the knight was dead. Raimund was already … missing. Tundavik couldn’t bear to think that the knight was dead. The bastard would go mad if both his protectors were gone. Dropping to his knees, he buried his hands in the soot, trying to keep the tears from falling.
“Worried about me?” Mar said from behind. “At least I know you care.”
Tundavik shoved the knight. “Where were you? Is Burt dead?”
“We were in the town last night. I’m not an animal who always sleeps in barns. Surprised you slept through the commotion,” Mar said as he kicked debris, “the screams of burning men traveled for miles. Almost all of Ruwy was awake to see the slaves disappear.”
Tundavik rubbed his head. “Bad dreams.”
Mar squinted his eyes before saying, “Bera and Brun are in town, I was able to grab them during the chaos.”
Tundavik didn’t even think about the horses. Luckily the slaves didn’t steal them too. “You don’t want to stay and help?”
Mar swatted the idea. “I don’t care much for Ruwy or my father’s manor. If it can’t survive without slaves then should it exist at all?” Mar took him to the horses, a young girl was feeding them sugar cubes and singing a song about horse riders.
“Are the slaves going to come back and murder us all?” The girl asked. “My mother said slaves are as savage as a wild bear.”
“I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Mar said. “Thanks for helping.” He gave her a coin before sending her away. “I hear Storyah calling us.” He said as he climbed atop Brun whom he was watching while Raimund was … away.
“Sure you don’t want to say goodbye?” Tundavik asked.
Reran popped out behind a stone bakery. “He doesn’t have a choice. I haven’t seen you in a decade and you’re just going to run away after the night we just had? Mother will be devastated.”
“She’ll get over it. She has you and your son to make her happy.”
“They do love you Mar.” Reran said and shrugged. “They may not show it much, but they do. A decade alone with them has shown me that.”
“Don’t let Ruwy fall to war.” Mar said with no emotion as he climbed atop his horse. His eyes looked sad as he told his brother, “Keep your family safe.”
Reran stepped in front of Brun so Mar couldn’t run away. “I will talk to father, try to make him see reason. Ultiir usurped the throne, killed his last surviving brother, I don’t need you getting any ideas.” Reran laughed and patted Mar’s leg. “Make sure it isn’t ten years before I see you again. You’d love Luxe and Orson.”
“And they’d love me too.” Mar snickered. He kicked Brun and Tundavik followed on Bera. They left behind the people of Ruwy gawking at the burned barn and wondering why slaves would revolt. Off to Storyah.
The Shining Orb Series 