Black Thorn Read online

  “Great, I can’t wait,” Gideon said as his father walked away.

  I t was a month later when Gideon was finally able to leave the infirmity. His strength had not returned to normal, but Gideon could limp around on a cane. After promising he wouldn’t try anything that may tax his strength, they allowed him to wander around the keep on his own. At first, he would just visit Levi and Katrina, he would keep these visits short, and he wouldn’t talk much. It made him feel a little better to be around them, even if he just listened to how their daily activates where going. He would venture into the throne room where his father would be dealing with all the daily needs of Thornpine. A couple more weeks and he would venture out into the snow and walk among the villagers. Some would wave or greet him; others would just hurry by on their way. These walks he took where always in solitude, deep in thought, focusing on what his future may bring him. The more he pondered his predicament, the more depressed he became. Finally, he reached a stage of constant numbness. Instead of visiting his family, he would find himself sitting beside Kallen’s grave. He would talk to the dead warrior, tell him his fears and his secrets, but he would never get the reply he craved. After his pleads and bargains with the Maker, he would weep, feeling pity for himself and pity for those whose lives were lost. He kept echoing the same thought over and over again, why? If the Maker was just how could he let this happen?

  Gideon’s life fell into this routine, an existence that neither helped him nor hindered him. It was a stage of life that so many before him had fallen victim to. His family did not know how to help him. What could they do anyway? They had no way of healing his broken body, nor could they return him his severed magic.

  He was officially dismissed from the Knight Academy at the start of November. Larson one of the chief guards helped him remove his belongings from the barracks, and put them in a room his father had cleared for him in the keep. This was the final nail in the coffin. He stopped speaking, his appetite left him, and his overall will to survive faded. If it weren’t for his sister’s constant vigilance, Gideon would have stopped trying to live.

  His spirits lifted slightly as preparations for the festival began. All the villagers spoke excitedly and were in high spirits. The energy of Thornpine was bursting with excitement. Perhaps it was always this way, and Gideon was just now noticing. Maybe everyone was putting forth an extra effort to dispel the tragedies that had occurred just a couple of weeks before. Whatever the reason, the effect saved Gideon as he came to realize that he didn’t want to give up. This was no mystical life-changing realization, it wasn’t instantaneous, and his depression didn’t fade overnight. His frame of mind however allowed him to begin to hope, to have the need to go on and face life, even if he was half of himself.

  The dawn of the festival found Gideon sitting on a bench overlooking the village square. The frost was heavy on the air, ghosts of mist escaping with each breath. Despite the chill in the early morning air the people of the village were out in forces, finishing what tasks were left. On the outskirts the traveling merchants were busy setting up their tents and pavilions, a joyous melody came from several of these tents as the storytellers and troubadours mingled with the merchants.

  K atrina watched Gideon for some time; her brother was her whole world. He was the one who had comforted her when their mother had died. He was the one who would stand up to Levi when he was being a bully. Gideon was the one person she could find comfort, and now he was hurting, and she didn’t know what to do. Cautiously Katrina walked over to Gideon, walked around the bench and sat beside him. They sat there in silence for a time before Katrina spoke.

  “You appear to be doing better, at least you look happier. Is it the festival? You always loved listening to the tellers.”

  Gideon didn’t answer; he just continued to stare at the people of the square. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to Katrina; he just didn’t know what he should say to her. Finally, he cleared his throat and replied.

  “I am feeling slightly better. I do want to get better you know. I just am not sure what to do. I’m too weak to continue as a knight, not that I could continue without my magic anyways. I have been placed in a situation where I do not think there is a way out. Even if I could regain my health, what purpose could I serve? I don’t feel that I deserve to be here Katrina, what right do I have to continue? Perhaps the loss of Mana inside me is my punishment.”

  Katrina gave him a warm smile and embraced him.

  “I think what you need, or perhaps what you want is to be forgiven. Brother if that is what you need then you will have to find forgiveness for yourself. For no one here is angered by your survival, only you. Now I am here for you, father and Levi are here for you, but none of us can give the forgiveness you seek.” Tears ran down Katrina’s face as she spoke. The sight of them caused a strange warming inside of him. Gideon reached over and pulled her into a tight embrace, tears stinging his own eyes as she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “I’m not going to leave you, sister. I promise I will always be here for you, please don’t cry.”

  Gideon wiped away the tears that streaked Katrina’s face and gave her a warm smile.

  “There, see. I’m better already. All I needed was some encouragement from my little sister.”

  Katrina sniffed in reply, wiping away the remaining tears. Gideon stood up and leaned heavily on his cane. Giving a great sigh, he said to her.

  “I think I had better go see Kallen’s grave. Afterward how about I join you and father for dinner before the festival begins?”

  Katrina smiled up at him and nodded her head. With that Gideon trudged off in the direction of the graveyard leaving an odd three-legged trail in the newly fallen snow.

  T he graveyard sat nestled in a grove of pines behind the church of the Maker. The tall brick and cedar building loomed over the grove like a watchful shepherd, watching over its sheep. The grove was cared for by the priest; their studious efforts kept it in pristine condition. Gideon found the pathway had been swept free of the newly fallen snow and that all the headstones had also been cleared. On each of the headstones, a single white lily had been left in tribute to the departed souls. The place that should hold immense sadness instead held peace and tranquility. Slowly Gideon made his way past row after row of stones. The ones closest to the church had the signs of age upon them. They stand weather-beaten, the engravings fading with names long since forgotten. His destination was at the very back of the grove, a section only recent reclaimed from nature. The walk took some time as he had to wind his way past the various headstones and monuments. He turned down the final bend in the path when to his surprise; Gideon found that Kallen had another visitor.

  An elderly man sat in front of the headstone that marked Kallen’s grave. The hunched figure had a monkish look about him; he was bald-headed, with an enormously long grey beard. His tattered brown cloak covered a simple garb of matching brown; beside him sat a large pack that looked to be about the same size as the man, and leaning on that was a gnarled oak staff that twisted around a polished green stone. The man emitted an aura of mystique as he sat there fingering his beard, eyes downcast upon Kallen’s headstone.

  “Well?” The man said, startling Gideon; he didn’t realize that the man had known of his approach. “I haven’t got all day, so why don’t you sit yourself down, Gideon, son of Adam.”

  Intrigued Gideon took a seat next to the old-timer. “I didn’t think anyone would be here. I wasn’t aware Kallen had any family.”

  The old man chuckled, and a faint smile separated the beard and mustache. “No, I wasn’t visiting Kallen, Maker rest his soul. I was here waiting for you Gideon. Took your sweet time didn’t you?”

  Gideon was a little taken aback; this man was waiting for him? How could that be? Only Katrina knew where he was going and it wasn’t like he had planned on coming today, “Who are you?” Gideon asked finally.

  The man shifted himself so to look at him. “Well it’s understandable that you
don’t remember me, must be going on ten years since I have last come to Thornpine. My name is Joseph, and I am a wanderer who has collected the stories and histories of the people of Rosenkar for the last sixty years. Last I came, your father had just returned from the capital, and you were just a young child.”

  A faint memory played dully in Gideon’s mind. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t rightly know who you are.”

  Joseph leaned close to Gideon, looking him straight in the eye and said: “Son, I am the one who is here to help you regain your magic.” He let the statement hang in the air for a moment before adding “Would you like some tea?”

  “What? How do you think you can do that?”

  Joseph leaned back and rummaged around in the giant’s bag for a moment before producing a bronze bowl with a grate, a tea kettle, and a bottle of water. “Well, you see you add the tea to the kettle and heat it up, like this.” He manifested a small flame in his hand which he let fall into the bowl and placed the kettle, now full of water on the grate. “See it’s straightforward when you know how. Here.” He said as he handed Gideon a slightly chipped cup with some tea leaves in it.

  “No, you don’t understand. What I meant was.”

  “I know what you meant boy; I just chose not to answer you just yet. Wait until after the tea is ready.”

  Gideon started to protest, but Joseph held up his hand to silence the boy. Clearly, if Gideon wanted answers, he would have to follow Joseph’s rules.

  They sat there in silence for a time, listening to the water fizz at it came to boil. Lifting the kettle and extinguishing the flame at the same time, Joseph filled both cups to the brim and then sat the kettle back on the grate.

  “Now, these leaves won’t take too much time to seep. So I suppose I should start by asking you a few questions.”

  “But…”

  “Ah ah ah, no first you answer my questions. Then I will answer yours understand?”

  Gideon felt the heat rising in his face, but he nodded his head in agreement all the same.

  “Good,” Joseph said, ignoring Gideon’s obvious frustration. “Tell me, when you were attacked did the fiend go for your neck?”

  Gideon nodded in reply “He tore open my jugular; I nearly bled out before help arrived.”

  “Good good, now did you ever see the beast?”

  Gideon thought for a moment. He didn’t remember seeing anything, but he remembered the look of horror on Kallen’s face. “I personally didn’t see it, but Kallen did before it attacked me. It happened fast enough I couldn’t react.”

  “Well, there wouldn’t have been anything you could have done anyways.” Joseph sighed then continued “The last question; did the healers say anything about not being able to sense your aura?”

  “Yes, but how could you know any of that?” Gideon asked in astonishment.

  Joseph was quiet for a few minutes, sipping his tea in thought. “Now you may not rightly believe me when I say this, but I know what attacked you that night. I know what killed your watchmen, but you may not like the answer.”

  With an edge of determination in his voice, Gideon growled: “Tell me.” A fire sparked his eyes for the first time in months, and he could begin to feel the yearning of revenge growing inside him like an inferno, threating of consuming everyone and everything around it.

  “Now don’t go and get all heated boy. Cool your head, or I won’t tell you a damn thing. Also, watch your tone when speaking to me, got it?”

  Gideon instantly cooled the blaze inside him drenched and put out. He wouldn’t jeopardize finding out what had caused him so much pain, for the first time in his life he would follow the rules regardless of how they made him feel.

  “Good, you can keep your head; just what I would expect from a knight.”

  “I’m not a knight; I was dismissed.”

  “Oh well, that’s okay. Bonds would just get in the way anyways. Now the creature that attacked you has gone by many names, but in essence, it’s a demon.”

  A look of disbelief crossed Gideon’s face, “That’s not possible, demons don’t exist.”

  Before Gideon could react, Joseph reached around grasping his staff, and swoon it down, smacking Gideon on the top of the head. The resulting crack echoed in the grove and split Gideon’s vision in two. Holding his head, Gideon cursed as tears welled in his eyes. He glared at the old man, “What was that for you crazy old loon!”

  “That was for giving me lip; you’ll learn one way or the other. As for demons, they do exist. The damn fiends are as real as you and I, just because they have been locked safely behind the veil doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Now are you going to listen or am I wasting my time?”

  Gideon didn’t reply, his head was pounding, and this nut was a few eggs shy of a basket. He went to stand, but Joseph grabbed his arm. “I am not crazy; I am your only hope of gaining back what you have lost. You need to trust me.”

  “Trust you!” Gideon yelled “You just assaulted me! I should have you thrown in the dungeons for the pain you caused me.”

  Joseph smiled “I’m sorry, I am. I let my temper get away from me, just listen before you hobble off.”

  Gideon didn’t take the bait, and he wasn’t sold either, but he stayed to hear the guy out. “You have five minutes to start making sense before I call for the guard.”

  “Long before the Elves came to this land they had breathed life into the very mana that granted their use of magic. The result was a shade like creature that reacted on instinct than pure thought. For a time they were the servants of the sprite folk, but then they rebelled; just like the mech race of man, the creatures evolved to breed and think and feel.”

  “I know the story; it’s the same thing the priests preach every week, the great taboo giving life so something that never had it. Even if it’s true that doesn’t account for how one got here and attacked me, now does it?”

  “That’s where this story takes a turn for the worse I’m afraid. Do you know what a necromancer is?”

  Gideon answered with a confused look on his face. When he didn’t reply Joseph continued, “A necromancer is a mage who controls the forces of the dead. They use their magic to reanimate bodies, speak to the dead, and the truly potent ones can summon demons from the plain beyond the veil.”

  “And this is important because?”

  “Because a demon feeds off of mana; they actually drain you of your life force, depleting your ability to summon magic.”

  Gideon let the last sentence sink in. “So you’re saying a necromancer sent a demon to steal my magic?”

  “Not exactly, he didn’t send it after you anyways; the demon was sent to weaken Thornpine. He was sent here to prepare for the invasion.”

  “What invasion? What proof do you have? Is it the Elves or one of the neighboring kingdoms?”

  Joseph placed a calming hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “No son, the attack is coming from the Orcs.”

  This didn’t make any sense; the Orcs were a secretive race that lived beyond the Black Ridge Mountains. No one had seen an Orc for hundreds of years; the average person believed them more myth than fact.

  “So why tell me? Shouldn’t you have told the king or my father, the Jarl? If Esnela is in danger someone who can do something should be told!”

  “The King wouldn’t listen and neither would your father for that matter. They have their hands full with the goblins and kobolds I’m afraid. I told you because I believe you can do something about it.” Sighing Joseph continued. “This threat is agents all mankind and sprite kind alike. The necromancer is leading the hoard of Orc warriors across the Black Ridge Mountains, I’ve seen them I just don’t have any proof. That is where you come in; you can get close enough to the hoard to pick off one of them and bring back proof to your father I believe a helm or shield should do. After that, your father can alert his brother the King.”

  Gideon let out a howling laugh that echoed across the grove, sending snow falling from the trees and on to the fre
shly swept pathway. Tears streamed down his face as he held his sides and continued laughing. Joseph for his part was not fazed. “You do realize that I am physically incapable of even being able to leave the village, let alone trudge around the Black Ridge Mountains searching for an army that may or may not be there. Even if I could somehow make it up the mountains I couldn’t kill anything because of my lack of strength I’d probably die on the way up there with no magic for hunting, healing, or making fires I wouldn’t stand a ghost of a chance.”

  Joseph smiled at himself; it was truly amazing how one could place himself in a box and feel genuinely powerless. A hint of pity crept into the old man’s heart, but it wouldn’t sway him from his quest. This was bigger than just one person and if there needed to be a sacrifice then so be it. Joseph cleared his throat, “You will not be powerless, as I said I know how to heal the link between your mana and your body. Doing so will also heal your body making you whole again.”

  Gideon smiled skeptically at the old man, “You’re serious about all this aren’t you?”

  Joseph leaned close and said to him, “Yes, yes I am. This will not be easy, for you travel a road few have ever wondered, but with my help, you should do fine.

  Chapter 7 A Deadly Report

  A visible change had come over Gideon, his father noted to Levi one evening a couple of days after the festival. His father, Levi, and Katrina had watched Gideon with growing enthusiasm as he doubled his efforts to regain his physical health. He seemed to be eating like his old self and talking to all of them, not in the depressed, sullen way he had been the past couple months, but with a vigor and lust that Adam thought had deserted his son. Levi told him that on the last night of the festival Gideon was seen in full dress of his armor and sword and had swapped his cane for a walking staff. Katrina added in that today he wasn’t even using the staff, he was up and about by himself. “This is all thanks to that teller of course,” Katrina said as she sat down at the dinner table joining in on the conversation.