skyman.html

Skyman in the Woods
by Lareena Smith

Late autumn ice formed in puddles on the forest floor, causing crunching noises as little Rhalles rode his small horse through the darkened woods. The sun had set and Rhalles knew his father would be furious that he had gone out alone. But he was almost nine years of age now--an age of responsibility; anyway, there was adventure out in the forest that night, and Rhalles wasn't going to miss out.

Sometimes Rhalles like to play war games at night, but his father always insisted he take several bodyguards. It wasn't as much fun that way, having old men following him around telling him to be careful. That's not how a real war was. Rhalles knew that. Real wars meant real danger, with no one there to make sure you didn't hurt yourself.

What Rhalles really wished was that he had a friend his own age to play with. That would make an adventure like this much more fun, but Rhalles had given up on that long ago.

Carelessly, Rhalles rode further into the forest. His horse made a lot of noise on the ice. It was hard to avoid. The air was turning cold, but Rhalles had his fur cloak, so he wasn't worried. The rumor was that the Hasson had renewed an old feud and planned to attack. Fighters had been reported in the forest, but when the guards checked, they found no one. Rhalles was armed with his sword and a pistol, and he knew how to use them.

The chance of getting lost was none. Rhalles knew the woods intimately, from endless summers spent riding all around Terrisheldeneth, his home. Still his father might worry, and there could be some real dangers here. But Rhalles put aside these concerns; warriors were never afraid.

Further and further he rode into the forest, now dark, with only the moonlight to show the way. He slowed his horse down, listening for any unusual sounds. He kept going at a slow pace. They made less noise traveling this way, but still the sound was fairly audible.

Rhalles heard a noise faintly in the distance; it sounded like a voice or voices. He stopped. For a moment he listened intently, but heard nothing. Silently he sat, waiting for the sound to reoccur. He tried to gage the direction it came from. He knew there was a road a mile or two to the south. The cold made him shiver; he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and tightened it.

After waiting a quarter of an hour or more, Rhalles decided that he must have been mistaken. He was about to move on when a gunshot rang out loudly not far in the distance. The horse cried out and bolted, and a low hanging branch caught the young boy and threw him off the horse. Several more shots were fired and the horse, frightened, ran back towards Terrisheldeneth.

Winded, but not seriously hurt, except for pride, Rhalles lay still on the forest floor -- the cold eating at his chest. For minutes he did not move. Again there were shouts, and gun shots, more remote this time. The assailants were from the southwest, from the Hasson, Rhalles concluded. The Hasson had an old feud with the Terrisheld. Rhalles didn't know exactly why, and figured no one else did either. The Hasson just wasn't to be trusted. Anyway, they were an arrogant, undeserving lot.

Rhalles thought of moving, but then another thought occurred to him. He knew the Hasson had a strange man with them, strong and magical--a man who had walked among the stars. Meeting with such a man could be dangerous. Rhalles began to reconsider his wisdom in coming out alone. He also realized that his horse was not coming back, and it was a several mile hike back home. He began to be sure that his father would not be happy.

The air seemed quiet now. Rhalles waited awhile more, to be sure. He couldn't lie here all night. He had to head home. So he stood and began to pick his way carefully, and quietly, through the woods. Walking quietly took more effort and made the journey slower. He was good at quiet walking though.

After walking awhile, and still within a fairly close distance of where he heard the gun shots, he spotted a figure watching him. He froze. Rhalles stood in the center of a clearing filled with moonlight, and the stranger sat just inside a circle of trees, in the shadows. There was no way the man did not see him. Who was it? Rhalles wondered. Some of the Hasson? Or someone else--a robber maybe? Rhalles tried to drive fear from his heart. Strangely enough the man said nothing, nor did he move.

Carefully Rhalles studied the man from a distance. He couldn't see him clearly, but the man seemed to be leaning against a tree trunk. The man said nothing and made no motion. Carefully, and stealthily, Rhalles drew his own pistol from the holster. He cocked it in readiness, taking aim at the man. Then he took several steps forward. The man made no response.

Again, Rhalles took several steps towards the figure; the man still did not move, nor speak. Rhalles advanced a little closer, and began to wonder if the man were alive. He was slouching over the trunk of a tree, and didn't seem to be ready to attack Rhalles. Slowly Rhalles advanced on him, until he stood only twenty feet away. Now he was sure the man was injured or dead. He hurried the rest of the way and arrived at the figure's side.

"Don't move," Rhalles ordered menacingly, "turn slowly around."

The man did not move, nor respond. He was draped, face down over the log. Now here was a puzzle. The man was wounded. Rhalles had heard shots. But what two groups were fighting? If it were the Hasson attacking and the Terrisheld who had met them, why didn't they come looking for Rhalles? By now, they certainly had missed him, and suspected his course of action. They wouldn't have returned without him. What other groups would be fighting in their woods? It didn't make sense. Surely the Hasson weren't fighting themselves. A band of robbers, maybe?

Carefully, holding the gun ready in one hand, Rhalles pushed the figure. It still did not move. He grabbed the man's coat and pulled hard to turn him over. The man landed on his back on the ground, moaning a little in pain. His chest was bleeding from a gunshot wound. Rhalles put his gun away and pulled a small length of rope from a pocket inside his cloak. He secured the man's hands behind his back and propped him up against the log. The man was only semi-conscious. His robes were servant robes and the colors were from the Hasson. So, it was the Hasson who had attacked their land. Somehow this unfortunate servant had fallen wounded. Rhalles sat down and thought of what to do.

It was a long way back to Terrisheld. Rhalles could make it on foot in a few hours, but then he would have to leave his "prisoner" here, and they would not learn the meaning of this attack. Also, if he left the man here he may well be dead in several hours. He noticed that the man didn't have a very warm coat on and his wound looked fairly deep. Rhalles knew that if he waited long enough, his father would send men to comb the forest and find him. Still, there could be hostile men out there, and Rhalles could be in danger if he stayed.

After several minutes of deliberation, Rhalles was none the wiser. Slowly the man seemed to be regaining consciousness. He looked up at Rhalles. His eyes seemed unsteady and unclear. He seemed to be trying to orient himself.

"You are my prisoner, you Hasson dog," said Rhalles, just to keep the man from having to strain his mind.

The man pulled at his hands and found them tied. He nodded obediently. "I see."

"Tell me," asked Rhalles, "why have you come to Terrisheld?"

"We were attacked on our own lands and pursued our attackers to your forest."

"You liar! Terrisheld hasn't attacked you for years."

"We didn't see the attackers clearly, but they retreated to your forest."

"Again a lie!" insisted Rhalles. "Lie again and I'll strike you."

The man fell silent. He studied Rhalles carefully. "A little young for a warrior, aren't you?"

"Old enough to catch you," retorted Rhalles.

The man grunted, left without argument.

"Why do you wish to attack the Hasson?" questioned Rhalles.

"We were only defending our lands," replied the man, but he was losing energy. He coughed several times and shivered. The cold was getting to him.

Rhalles stood up. "If you won't tell me the truth, I might as well leave you here to die."

The man looked up at him, as though to object, but his anxiety turned to resignation. He kept silent. Rhalles studied him a minute. He looked off in the distance and studied the immediate area, listening carefully for movement. It seemed they were alone. Still, if the Hasson had fought with his father's men, then why didn't they come looking for him? Perhaps the stranger was telling the truth. He stood silently a moment.

The stranger seemed to have accepted his fate. He coughed again, a little more violently this time. He tried to move his hands. Rhalles pulled his gun from the holster. "Don't try it," Rhalles warned. The man stopped immediately, abandoning any attempt to free himself.

"Are we going to sit here all night?" asked the man, dolefully.

Rhalles didn't respond. He didn't want to mention that he was stranded in the forest late at night, without his horse, and with hostile enemies roaming about. "That isn't your concern," said Rhalles, managing to sound more confident than he felt.

Rhalles sat back down, and put his gun away, knowing the man was hardly a threat, but still uneasy about the surrounding woods. "What is your name?" asked Rhalles.

"Jesh of the Hassonlandith," the man said weakly.

"Jesh of the Hasson!" Rhalles echoed with sudden enthusiasm. "Not THE Jesh, servant to Tirethdarra and Lord Rissertoranth?"

The man nodded and coughed again.

Now Rhalles was excited. He forgot his quiet caution and forgot to watch the surrounding forest.

"You are the Skyman, aren't you?" Asked Rhalles.

The man smiled faintly. "Yes."

"Tell me all about the stars," said Rhalles firmly.

The man took a carefully breath. He was shivering slightly from the cold. "Well, being in space is like--" he thought a moment. "Like being out on a clear dark night. The clearest night you've ever seen, except there's no forest, you're in the middle of the sky. And the lights are bright, brighter than you've ever seen them." He stopped, and winced in pain. He took a few careful breaths.

"Go on," said Rhalles, eagerly.

"Each light is a star, like our own sun, and around each star are many worlds like our own world and people--"

"Like the Prenth?" Rhalles said in distaste. No one liked the Prenth.

"Yes. More or less."

"They're all bad," said Rhalles.

"Not necessarily," said Jesh, coughing again.

"Everyone knows it."

"Is everyone one Kinthaldith good?" asked Jesh.

"No. Especially not the Hasson," said Rhalles.

Jesh smiled wanly at this. "Is everyone on Kinthaldith bad?"

"No."

"I know many good people on Prent, and many bad ones."

Rhalles considered this for a moment. Jesh drew himself closer to the log, trying to keep out of the cool wind.

"Did you ride in very many space ships?" asked Rhalles.

"Several," said Jesh, his voice sounding thin.

Rhalles stood up with determination. "Someday I'm going to go to the stars."

Jesh looked at him. "Perhaps."

"Tell me more," insisted Rhalles.

The man spoke for several more minutes. He told Rhalles what the spaceships were like, and the vehicles that traveled like lightening. He spoke of all sorts of magical wonders, including machines that could clean your dishes. Horses were rare on Prent; vehicles were common. Everyone had machines. After a while, Jesh stopped.

"Go on," said Rhalles.

The man shook his head. He was silent for a few moments. Rhalles was frustrated. "You're my prisoner. I order you to tell me."

"I'll be a dead prisoner soon," he rasped.

Rhalles had forgotten about his wound. "Are you hurt very badly?"

The man shook his head, "I don't know." But his voice was sounding faint. Rhalles leaned over him and pulled at his coat. The man recoiled in pain. More gently, Rhalles tried to open the coat to see the wound. It was hard to see in the dark, but Rhalles could feel the blood.

"I don't want you to die," Rhalles said honestly.

"I don't want to die either." The man was equally honest.

Rhalles stared at him a moment.

"Swear an oath of loyalty to me," said Rhalles.

"I can't. I've sworn one to the Hasson."

Rhalles was petulant. "Then swear--swear an oath of peace, that you'll never attack Terrisheld, or help anyone attack Terrisheld."

The man repeated the oath.

"And that you'll never harm any person from the Terrisheld."

Again the man repeated it.

"Swear that you promise you will not hurt me or any of my family, or you will forfeit your life."

He swore it. Rhalles took his knife and cut the ropes that held the man. He was so faint, that he scarcely noticed. Rhalles was afraid that he was losing consciousness. He stood up and looked around. In another hour or so, they'd loose the moonlight. Still no one came looking for him. He was afraid Jesh would die if no one came soon.

Rhalles took off his own cloak and wrapped it around Jesh. "Don't go anywhere," said Rhalles.

Jesh grunted, finding that unlikely.

Rhalles took his knife and left it within the man's reach. "In case you need to defend yourself," he said. "I'll come back with help." The man said nothing, but looked like he had fallen asleep. Quickly, Rhalles headed north, towards Terrisheld.

At first, Rhalles moved slowly through the woods, trying to walk quietly in case he met with any hostile attackers. The woods were quiet, though, and he saw and heard nothing. After awhile, he picked up the pace. Soon he was running, thinking of the wounded Skyman back in the clearing.

He surprised the castle gate guards when he arrived, which means that they had not been on the alert and he soon realized that it had not been men from Terrisheld who had fought with the Hasson in the wood. Quickly, he told Captain Durmin of the skirmish and the wounded servant.

"You shouldn't have been outside the castle this time of night," said the Captain. He quickly ordered his men to get ready to search the woods. "You get inside. You've done enough for the night." The Captain hurried down a flight of stairs towards the gate livery. Rhalles followed.

"I'm coming with you," said Rhalles, in his most authoritative tone. "Anyway, how will you find the Skyman without me? I tell you he's on the brink of death!" asked Rhalles.

Captain Durmin shook his head and muttered. "Your father will have my head," but he made no further protest as Rhalles mounted his horse to lead the rescue mission.

It didn't take them long to reach the clearing. The Skyman was still there, but now he was unconscious. Carefully, they lifted him onto a horse and carried him back to the Terrisheld.

Once inside, the guards carried the Skyman away and Rhalles followed the Captain to meet his father, Lord Bendoneldereth.

By now, Rhalles father had been alerted and was pacing the halls outside his council chamber rather impatiently. Lord Bendon was a short, heavy set man who was partly balding. He was dressed lavishly in red and gold velvet. When he saw Rhalles he looked very upset.

"Young man, how many times have I told you not to go out alone, especially at night!"

"But Father, we found the Skyman!"

"The who?"

"The Hasson's Skyman--the one that came back in a space ship!"

"Hmm," this set Lord Bendon's mind to thinking and for a moment, he forgot his anger to his son. "This is something I have to see."

He turned to leave and Rhalles followed him for a moment.

"Where do you think you're going? It's late! You go to bed." asked Lord Bendon.

"But I found him!"

"Don't argue with me, you're in enough trouble as it is. By the way, I was told today that you were fraternizing with the stable hands."

"I was not!" said Rhalles, thinking back to a rather long and funny conversation he'd had with Jemmet, one of the horse groomers. "I was merely conversing with him. I may converse with stable hands about my horse, surely?"

"I heard you were laughing and carrying on. Rhalles, might I remind you that you are my son and the Heir of the Terrisheld and I find it repulsive to think that you would amuse yourself with conversation of such a lowly sort. I won't have my son behaving like that. You should be associating with people more equal to your own rank and standing."

"Like who?"

There was a long silence as Lord Bendon thought about it.

"That's what I thought," said Rhalles petulantly, "no one is good enough for me to associate with."

"Well, there is Lord Whittem's son Berran."

"He lives four days ride from here!"

"And Lord Baranov's son Correnth."

"He lives even farther away. How about Ramonnth, Lord Mithren's son? He's a member of the Council of Lords."

"For diplomatic purposes you should be acquainted, but I hardly think he's a candidate for any kind of extended friendship."

"But--"

"Enough. You are my Heir and I insist that you behave as one. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Rhalles, and he reluctantly fell behind them and headed for his own room. He knew better than to argue with his father, especially when he was in a bad mood. Still, it was hardly fair.

At breakfast, once Rhalles was sure his father was in a better mood, he once again brought up the subject of the Skyman. "May I go see him?" asked Rhalles.

"Certainly not. I forbid you to go down there."

"If it weren't for me, he wouldn't even be here!"

"This is an adult matter, Rhalles. Stay out of it."

Rhalles considered this quietly as he ate. Somehow, he felt this didn't bode well for the Skyman. "What will you do with him?" he asked finally.

His father gave him a quick glance, and thought a moment. "I want him to swear an oath of loyalty to me."

"He can't. He's foresworn. I already tried that."

Lord Bendon's eyes were dark. "He will swear loyalty to me -- or die. Those are his choices. He has great power and that power could be ours. Terrisheld could rise up above the other houses into it's rightful place. And certainly, I won't give him back to the Hassonlandith--those undeserving dogs! I won't be ruled over by them."

Rhalles said nothing. He was young but not stupid. He knew how these things went. Until the Skyman swore the oath, he would receive no respite, only torment. He felt a little guilty, as though he had betrayed the Skyman by bringing him to Terrisheld. Perhaps he hadn't saved his life after all.

They finished their breakfast in silence.

As the morning progressed, Rhalles's mood darkened. He spent several hours with the arms master, Jheress, practicing his sword fighting and it did not go well. He knew he hadn't been practicing enough.

After another bout with Jheress they took a break. Rhalles snapped his fingers. "Water," he called, somewhat haughtily. The water boy hurried over and gave him a cup of water. For the first time he noticed that this water boy was about his same age and size. Suddenly Rhalles felt jealous of this boy. He was sure that no one ever monitored his conversations to make sure they were 'appropriate.' He was probably allowed to make friends with whomever he wanted.

"You are slow, mi'lord. Your defensive reactions need to be more automatic. Try the exercises I've shown you. It will help. We'll start again tomorrow morning."

Rhalles nodded and Jheress left. He'd tried the exercises plenty of times. What Rhalles needed was someone to practice with. Again he looked over at the water boy.

"You, what's your name?"

"Me sir?" asked the water boy, somewhat surprised.

"Yes."

"Deagel."

"Do you have many friends here?"

"Mi'lord?" the boy asked, confused by the question. "I have a number of them, sir."

Rhalles nodded, feeling a little sorry for himself. It seemed unjust that even servants had more friends than he did.

"Do you know how to sword fight?" asked Rhalles.

"No, sir. I'm afraid I don't."

"I'll teach you. I need someone to practice with."

"But sir--"

"That's an order, not a request," said Rhalles.

The boy nodded. "Yes, mi'lord."

The next few days were tolerable. Oddly enough, the water boy seemed to have a natural talent for sword fighting. Again Rhalles was a little jealous of him, thinking of all the lessons he had endured to learn sword fighting. Deagal seemed to pick up the techniques with ease. Rhalles got in a lot of arms practice with the help of Deagal and his teacher seemed pleased with his improvement.

Still, Rhalles had heard little about the fate of the Skyman and it troubled him. He had been badly wounded when he arrived and Rhalles was aware of the methods of Master Tergan where prisoners were concerned. There weren't many prisoners in the dungeons of the Terrisheld, but the ones that were there sometimes paid the price quite dearly.

After a few restless afternoon hours, Rhalles sought Workmaster Innis. "Where's the water boy? The one I've been using for arms practice?"

"In the kitchen. He generally helps Cook."

"And Cook has greater need of him than I have?"

"No, mi'lord."

"Then fetch him for me at once."

The man hurried off and came back with the boy Deagal. Rhalles didn't bother to thank the workmaster. It never occurred to him to thank a servant for doing his job.

They went to the courtyard and practiced for awhile, but that wasn't what Rhalles actually had in mind. After awhile he stopped.

"Are your parents here at Terrisheld?" asked Rhalles.

"No, sir, they live out near Lake Charteush."

"How did you end up here, then?"

"When I was one year old, my parents gave me to Terrisheld."

"You mean, your parents took money for you?" Rhalles was somewhat shocked.

Deagal looked down in embarrassment. Rhalles didn't know whether to envy him for being free from his parents of pity his situation.

"My nurse said that my parents were very poor and that they hoped that here at Terresheld I could learn a trade and perhaps gain some kind of status."

"As a servant?" asked Rhalles, incredulous.

"Yes."

Rhalles was amazed that anyone's life goal could be to become a high ranking servant. Suddenly he felt awkward with this conversation, and wondered it anyone might be watching them and whether this conversation might get reported to his father.

"I need a snack," he said haughtily, trying to reassert his authority. "Go to the kitchen and fetch me some food. Some bread and cheese--and a bottle of fine wine."

Deagal stared at him for a moment. "Yes, mi'lord." He said and started off.

"And be discreet," warned Rhalles. "I don't want anyone to know. Wrap it in a burlap sack. I'm not really ready to eat it right away."

Deagal nodded and hurried off. It was a little while before he returned with the small sack. Deagal held it out for Rhalles.

"You carry it," said Rhalles. "Come with me." The boy nodded and followed. Rhalles led him to one of the less used wings of the castle and then out onto the roof. In the attic, Rhalles found a shaft that led downward. He'd been down it many times. Deagal followed him wordlessly, not asking any questions, though obviously he had some on his mind.

The shaft grew darker as they climbed down and it got difficult to see. Still, they continued on without conversation until close to the bottom. Here Rhalles stopped.

"Give me the sack," said Rhalles.

"You want a snack now?" asked the boy, incredulous.

"Just give it to me," said Rhalles, irritated. The boy quickly handed him the sack. They were still on the ladder inside the shaft, but below them the shaft ended in a dark room.

"Stay here," said Rhalles. "I'll be back in awhile." He began to climb down, then stopped. "If I don't come back after an hour, then climb back up the shaft and return to your station. But whatever you do--tell no one of this."

The boy nodded, with some worry in his eyes. "Yes, mi'lord."

Rhalles continued downward until the ladder ended. The room was very small and contained some weapons and other boxes. On the wall hung various sized manacles and several whips. The room was cramped and smelled quite musty.

From a secret hiding place, Rhalles found a key and opened the storeroom door, then closed and locked it behind him. The corridor was narrow and very dark. From somewhere ahead there was a small bit of light. Slowly, Rhalles moved toward it.

Voices startled Rhalles and he quickly hid in the shadows. Up ahead were the prison guards. Rhalles held very still for awhile, and considered the corridor. There were three or four small hallways branching from it, each with cells. He listened quietly for awhile, and then heard a bad cough from a nearby hallway. Quickly Rhalles hurried down that way, trying his best not to be seen or heard.

At the end of this hall was a small dark cell. In the dim light, Rhalles peered in the cell. There was sudden movement and a small cry as someone in the cell saw Rhalles. There was a man, laying on the bed next to the wall. He tried to sit up but didn't seem to have the strength. They stared at each other a moment.

"It's you," said the Skyman in a whisper.

Rhalles nodded.

The Skyman lay back down but not without a groan of pain.

"Have you made your decision?" Rhalles asked, in the barest of whispers.

"What decision?"

"Will you swear an oath of loyalty to my father?"

There was a short silence. "I told you already, I have an oath to the Hassonlandith."

Rhalles nodded. "I know. Still, faced with death, it is not dishonorable to revoke an oath and swear a new loyalty."

"So, it's okay to break my word if the stakes are high enough?"

"Most people think it so."

The Skyman groan in pain, as he tried to turn over, to look at Rhalles. "I won't swear the oath."

"You'd rather die?" asked Rhalles. He couldn't help noticing the lash marks on the Skyman's bare shoulders. He had no tunic on and shivered some from the cold.

"Yes."

Rhalles stared at him, disturbed. "Why?"

"I spent eleven years on Prent and I understand a lot of their science. It's very powerful. More powerful than anything you can imagine. If I swore loyalty to Lord Bendon, he would use it to conquer the other houses and become the most powerful ruler on Kinthaldith. It would cause nothing but strife and chaos!"

"You have that kind of knowledge?" Rhalles asked, in admiration.

"It could be used that way, yes. And I won't let that happen."

"But, if you did swear loyalty to my father, then eventually he would die. And then I'll become the Lord of Terresheldenth. You trust me, don't you?"

The Skyman looked carefully at the young lord. It was an innocent sort of question. "More than I do Lord Bendon."

"Then swear the oath and someday, I'll be the Lord and we can work together. I don't want you to die."

The man stared at Rhalles for awhile. "It's more complicated than that. Prent is very advanced and they desperately need some natural resources that Kinthald has. There are greedy men there who are planning to take over Kinthaldith as a territory. We may only have a few years to prepare. If the households begin to war among themselves and divide, then they'll have more excuse to invade your world. And if I help Lord Bendon, this is exactly what will happen. This is what they want. It would mean the downfall of Kinthaldith as we know it. The houses need to be kept equal and work together, then we'll have the ability to defend ourselves."

"But if you serve the Hasson, they'll do the same thing surely. They'll use this terrible power to take control of Kinthaldith. How will that be any different?"

"No. They won't. I've talked to them and they understand the situation, most of them, anyway. They'll help me, and they are agreed that the knowledge should be equally shared among the houses. This is our goal, but if I give in to Lord Bendon, we will fail."

There was silence between them for a long while.

"I need to get a message to the Hasson--to Lady Tirethdarra--that I've been imprisoned here. Otherwise, they won't know where I am. Will you help me?"

"And betray my father? Absolutely not!" said Rhalles, indignant. But inside, he wasn't so sure of his response.

The Skyman laid back down, discouraged.

Carefully, Rhalles pushed the small burlap sack through the cell door. "Here," he said and began to walk away.

"Please," said the Skyman, "help me. Think of someone besides yourself for once. Think of Kinthaldith!" He urged, almost too loudly. Rhalles looked nervously down the hallway.

Rhalles paused only for a moment, looked at him and then continued down the hall. At the intersection, he tried to cross quietly but his footsteps were too loud.

"Who goes there?" called the guard, and in a moment they were on him. When they realized who it was, they let him go.

"He's my Skyman," Rhalles said indignantly. "I found him."

Still, as they led him up the stair, he knew that Master Tergan would have words with him, and then with Counsellor Sellan. When Rhalles's mother died 4 years ago, Counselor Sellan took over Rhalles upbringing. He was the one man that Rhalles knew he couldn't command or intimidate. Counselor Sellan would have words with his father--and Rhalles would be in trouble--again.

After Rhalles arms lesson in the morning he sought out Deagal. There was a small wound on Deagal's forehead and some scrapes on his chin.

"What happened?" Rhalles asked him, when they were alone.

"They discovered the bottle of wine missing--and you said to be discreet, so I told them I drank it."

Rhalles began to laugh. The thought of this 8 year old servant boy drinking a whole bottle of fine Vienesk was hilarious. But remembering his scars, he stopped. Obviously they had beaten him. He was surprised by the boy's loyalty to him.

"Well done," Rhalles said, awkwardly. He wasn't used to complimenting people, especially servants.

They spent several hours practicing swords. Rhalles said very little, thinking of the things the Skyman had said to him and contemplating what to do.

When they finished, Rhalles finally spoke. "I need you to do an errand for me."

"Yes, mi'lord?"

"I need you to come out to the stable, just after moonrise tonight. I'll find you a horse and then you'll take a message to the Hassonlandith for me."

"To the Hasson?" the boy was surprised.

"Yes. But no one must know of this. It could be dangerous."

The boy nodded. "As you wish."

At moonrise they met and Rhalles gave him a letter, written in his own hand and addressed to Lady Tirethdarra.

"Remember, give this to no one else," Rhalles warned. "And take this." He tied a white cloth on the horse's rein's, signifying peaceful intentions.

All the preparations made, he sent the boy out. The ride would take almost 3 hours each way, and the boy wouldn't return till morning. Rhalles returned to his room and slept.

The next morning, Rhalles looked for Deagal but couldn't find him. Finally he went to Workmaster Innis and inquired about him.

"I'm afraid there's been an incident," said Innis.

Rhalles felt apprehension. "What?"

"He stole a horse."

Rhalles heart skipped a beat. "What--last night?"

"No, this morning. They found him riding in the forest."

Then perhaps the boy had delivered the message. Rhalles wished he could talk to Deagal and find out. The next part of his plan depended on it.

"What will you do with him?" asked Rhalles, trying not to sound too interested.

"Probably sell him, or consign him to hard labor. A servant like that isn't to be trusted."

Branded as a thief and a lifetime of disgrace. It was far from Deagal's hopes. But Rhalles didn't dare defend him.

"We'll find you another water boy, of course."

"Of course," Rhalles tried to sound cheery. He didn't want it reported to his father that he had seemed too sympathetic to the boy.

When night came Rhalles snuck out of his room and across the castle, then down the shaft to the dungeon. In his hands he carried a small bundle. He crept from the storeroom into the hallway. It looked the same as it had last time. At the end of the hall, he could hear the guards. He found his way back to the cell containing the Skyman. No sound came from the cell and the Skyman lay still on his bed. Was he dead? Rhalles felt a twinge of guilt--perhaps he had waited too long.

"Skyman," Rhalles whispered.

There was a stirring of movement and the Skyman turned over to look at Rhalles. His movements were very sluggish. He looked glad to see Rhalles, then a fit of coughing overcame him for a few moments. Rhalles glanced nervously toward the main hall.

"Put your tunic on," Rhalles commanded him.

The Skyman gave him an odd look. "Why?"

Rhalles was indignant. "Was it on Prent that you learned to question the orders of your superiors?"

The man looked at this little nine year old boy and nearly laughed. His smile was a strange contrast to the scars on his face and back. Quickly he grabbed his tunic and pulled it over his head.

While he did that, Rhalles used his key to unlock the cell door. He opened it very slowly, hoping to avoid the inevitable creaking sound.

"Was it from your father that you learned your manners?" The Skyman asked quietly.

Rhalles scowled at him and they both hurried down the hall. Rhalles led him back towards the store room. Startled by unexpected movement from a cell he was passing, Rhalles found himself staring at the water boy. He also had no tunic on now and his back was scarred with lash marks.

"Mi'lord," the boy said, in the barest of whispers.

Rhalles was surprised. He hadn't thought they would keep the boy down here. He felt a twinge of guilt. He gave a careful glance up the hall to where the guards were stationed but they were out of sight. "Did you deliver the message?" Rhalles asked as quietly as possible.

The boy nodded.

"You have my gratitude for not mentioning my name," Rhalles said--not sure what to say to the boy. Feeling exposed in the open hall, Rhalles began to continue toward the storeroom.

"Sir!" came the desperate plea from the cell.

He looked back at the boy. Now, up the hall, he saw shadows moving.

"I can't help you. No one must know of my involvement," Rhalles said, almost inaudible.

The boy looked down, his face clouded. Then he looked back up at Rhalles. "I understand." The boy's face was sincere.

Rhalles stared at him, somewhat overcome. He realized that this was the closest he'd come to having a friend.

The Skyman was looking at the boy, as though aware of Deagel's sacrifice for his freedom. Without saying more, Rhalles hurried on down the hall. The Skyman followed. Rhalles led them to the storeroom and locked the door. Then he replaced the stolen key to it's hiding place. He handed the Skyman the bundle he carried. "Put this on." It was a cloak.

Wordlessly he obeyed and they climbed up the shaft. At the top, they paused a moment and exchanged glances.

"It will go hard on the boy," the Skyman said, looking at Rhalles.

Rhalles wasn't sure what he expected of him. "Yes," Rhalles responded, somewhat ashamed, and he continuing on without giving him a chance to continue the conversation. Rhalles led the Skyman into the castle and through the back halls, then outside past the stables to the edge of the forest, then stopped.

A few moments later, three horsemen appeared from the forest. The devices on their horses showed they were from the Hasson. They had a spare horse. Surprised, the Skyman turned to the little lord.

"This is more than I'd hoped for. I'll never forget this. I'm in your debt."

Rhalles grinned a little. "I know. And someday, in payment, I expect a ride on a spaceship."

The Skyman gave him an odd smile. "I hope that the future will make that possible."

They said farewell and parted. Rhalles felt a sadness as he watched him go, realizing that he was losing another friend.

And he knew his father would be furious.

The following morning, Rhalles stood on the balcony outside his bedroom looking out at the fields and the forest. It was his ninth birthday today, and he was in a bad mood.

Now that the Skyman had escaped, Rhalles didn't dare sneak back to the dungeon for the water boy. Even if he did, where would the boy go? He had nowhere to run.

Still, Rhalles had other tactics he could use.

It was still fairly early in the morning. Rhalles took his sword and hurried downstairs to find Workmaster Innis.

"You promised me you would find me a new water boy," Rhalles demanded in a tone that meant he fully expected to get what he wanted.

"Of course," said the workmaster. He left and came back awhile later with a boy probably two years younger than Rhalles.

"I can't use him," said Rhalles, summoning up all his annoyance. "He's far too short. I need someone I can practice swords with."

Again Innis disappeared. The next boy he came back with was nearly a foot taller than Rhalles, and obviously older.

"No! He's too tall!" Rhalles said petulantly. "I want someone my own size!"

Again he had to wait while the workmaster searched. This time it took him longer and finally he came back with a boy nearly Rhalles age. Rhalles looked him over.

"He's eight years old, mi'lord," said Innis, hoping the young lord would be pleased.

Rhalles approached the boy. "Can you sword fight?"

The boy shook his head. "No, sir."

Rhalles took all his frustration and let it build up inside. One thing that Rhalles was adept at was getting his way. He was a master of temper tantrums--no one but his father and Counselor Sellin had ever resisted them.

"I said I want a boy I can sword fight with! Are you stupid! Where are your brains workmaster. I can't use this one. Find me someone who can sword fight!"

"But, mi'lord," the workmaster said, in a small panic as the boy lost his temper, "I don't think any of the boys can sword fight--"

"This is outrageous! Today is my birthday and I will not be dealt with like this!"

"Mi'lord I assure you that we could train a boy quickly, perhaps in a week--"

"No. Today. Right now. I don't have time to sit about while you train someone for me! You will find someone suitable immediately or do I need to report your incompetence to my father?" Rhalles stared at him haughtily.

"But, sir. . ." the man was trying hard to think of a solution.

Too easy, Rhalles thought, ready to provide that solution. "Now, tell me again why I can't have Deagal back?" He asked as though somehow he'd forgotten.

Workmaster Innis took a deep breath, hesitant to speak. "I'm afraid that he's been sold, sir."

"What?" Rhalles demanded angrily. His surprise was genuine.

"He was taken this morning to auction. By now he's surely been sold."

Rhalles anger became deadly. "He's the one I want, workmaster."

"I'm afraid it's--"

"Are you telling me I can't have what I want?" Rhalles asked with disturbing calm.

The workmaster stared at him. "Mi'lord. . . I'll see what I can do."

Rhalles nodded. The man disappeared. It took an hour but the workmaster returned with Deagal. He was dressed in a clean but simple tunic, probably the one he'd been sent to the auction in.

"Here he is, mi'lord. You see, I found him."

Now Rhalles let his approval show. "Very good. Yes. This will do."

The workmaster seemed relieved. "Thank you, mi'lord."

Deagal also looked relieved to see Rhalles. Before they could leave; however, Counselor Sellin entered the room. He noticed Deagal at once.

"What is he doing here?" demanded the Councilor.

"You see, sir--" began Workmaster Innis.

"I have need of him for arms practice," Rhalles said, not so haughty this time as deliberate, knowing that the Councilor would never fall for his antics.

"No. He's unsuitable."

"There isn't anyone else suitable."

"I said no. We'll find you someone else."

Rhalles stared at him, not daring to go against him. He gave a slight smile. "Very well."

"Your father wants you in the dinning room right away for a celebration," said Sellin.

"Of course," Rhalles said graciously and headed for the door, giving Deagal one short glance as he left. The disappointment in Deagal's eyes haunted him.

In his room, Rhalles dressed in his fanciest, most outlandish outfit--gold and purple velvet with puffy sleeves. It was his birthday, after all, and his father would expect him to look his best.

Then he went on downstairs to join his father. The room was decorated lavishly and there was a table of gifts, which Rhalles glanced at with indifference. He put on a happy face for the festivities, but he didn't feel that way inside.

When they ate, he sat at the table with his father and Councilor Sellin.

"I have surprise for you," his father said, in a very good mood. "Now that you are nine years old. I think it is appropriate that you should have your own page!" He beamed at Rhalles.

Rhalles heart skipped a beat and he looked up at his father. "Can I pick him?" he asked eagerly.

"If you want," replied his father. "After all--it is your birthday."

Rhalles smiled at this and his father looked pleased.

"It would have to be someone my age, that I could practice my arms with." Rhalles gave Councilor Sellin a haughty look. "May I chose anyone I want?" he asked his father.

"Anyone!"

Rhalles gave Councilor Sellin a superficial smile.

Just then a messenger interrupted them. "Lord Bendoneldereth."

"Yes?"

"The prisoner has escaped."

"What? How?"

"We don't know, sir. He must have picked the lock. Perhaps the Hasson had a hand in it."

Rhalles saw the rage on his father's face and prayed that his wrath wouldn't fall on him. His father was the only person Rhalles was truly frightened of.

"Find him!" commanded Lord Bendon, getting up from the table and heading for the door.

"We're searching the woods now, sir," the man said, following Lord Bendon out of the room.

Rhalles pitied the person deemed responsible for this.

No one accused Rhalles for the Skyman's disappearance and Rhalles was relieved. In fact, the uproar created a perfect climate for Rhalles to insist once more on having Deagal--this time as a page. He made the request to Counselor Sellin directly. In this case, his father's evil mood seemed a benefit, because although the Counselor obviously disapproved he wasn't about to bring the subject up with Lord Bendon on a day like today. And Rhalles knew that he wouldn't bring it up later, since then he'd have to admit to having made a poor decision.

Later, after a long show of sword practicing with his new page, Rhalles rested. They sat quietly for a moment, then Rhalles spoke.

"I'm sorry I left you down there," Rhalles admitted. It felt like a grand admission of his own weakness, and he felt a little silly, apologizing to a mere servant. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, mi'lord," the boy insisted.

"You can be honest--and you don't need to call me mi'lord every other minute."

"Yes, mi'lord," the boy said, then faltered. "I mean--I'm sorry."

Rhalles laughed. "It's okay. Just call me Rhalles when we're alone."

The boy looked a little hesitant. "Yes, Rhalles. And I'm not mad at you. I'm just glad to be back here."

"Do you visit your parent's often?" Rhalles asked.

"No. I've never seen them."

"Why?" Rhalles asked, surprised. "Don't you want to?"

"Yes, but it's so far away--nearly two weeks. They'd never let me go so far away."

Rhalles stared at him, trying to imagine what it would be like to be denied something that you truly wanted. "That's outrageous," Rhalles insisted angrily. Then he thought it through for a moment. "Doesn't Lord Baranov live near there?"

"I don't know."

"He does," said Rhalles. "And it just so happens that his son Correnth is a friend, or at least it would please my father--if he were. I really should go see him," Rhalles said with a smile.

"And me too?"

"Of course," said Rhalles. "You're my page, after all. You'll come everywhere with me!" He grinned, feeling at last that he had a companion.

"Just remember, my father would be mad if he thought we were anything like friends, so whenever we're around others, you'll use my title, and call me by my full name--Rhallesbretanthlan."

"Rhallesbreth . . ." the boy attempted to pronounce it and failed.

"Well, we'll have to work on that," said Rhalles. "But now, I think I'd like to go play in the forest. We could play war. I'll show you how to sneak out of the palace so we won't have a bunch of dumb bodyguards following us around . . ." he said conspiratorially.

Deagal smiled and they ran off together. For once, Rhalles felt like a little boy.

The End

Return to Homepage

[email protected]

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws