A Memory of Song: First Verse of the Last Ballad by Scott Palmer

Author:Scott Palmer [Palmer, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Nytewood Press
Published: 2024-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

The Old Ways

“Didn’t think you’d come back,” said Derudin. The Lord of Ockam was sitting up against a large boulder on the side of the old road looking gaunt and feverish. Still dressed in his nightclothes and covered in dirt, blood, and twigs. James stopped Bren in front of him and helped him up. Derudin’s grip was weak, and his hands were cold and clammy. “Really didn’t think you’d come back,” he said.

“I told you I would,” said James. Derudin just nodded. James knew Derudin was a man short on trust, and earning a bit with him might go a long way. He knew Ellorin would come for him tonight, and that the Banshee would throw everything she had at him this time. But Dawning was the safest place they could be, surrounded by arbor and the dead.

“What kind of king unleashes that kind of darkness upon his own people?” Derudin asked.

“The same king that killed my family.”

“Times are dark, Culdaine.”

“Aye,” said James, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

The fort at Dawning stood on a tall hill overlooking the Dawn Fields. The Wick Arbor surrounded the fort and field. The scarlet light of the red sun poured over Fort Dawning, and it almost seemed peaceful. Four square watchtowers of stone, connected by wooden palisades, surrounded a sturdy motte at the centre of the village. Outside of the wall, a deep ditch was carved into the earth, circling the entire village.

Dawning was a small valley cut into the Wick, and the folk here were one with the haunts of the wood. But there weren’t nearly enough people to fight Ellorin’s Hawka. It seemed like Brinley had taken the warning of the coming attack seriously, though. James could see armed soldiers in the watchtowers and more at the bottom of the hill digging trenches and placing sharpened pikes in the moat.

James and Derudin rode up to the fort, returning nods from folk as they went past. All of them looked different shades of pallid through their iron helms. Some recognized Derudin and looked frightened. Guards in chain and boiled leather, draped in cloaks of yellow wool stitched with the black crow of Dawning, greeted them at the bottom of the hill. When they saw the Lord of Ockam, they let them ride up to the palisades without a word.

They crossed the moat bridge and passed beneath the open gate. James spit when he saw the red eagle of Ayeland hanging from the watchtowers. The courtyard was confined and busy. Folk were moving weapons, food-stores, and water-buckets like they’d been attacked many times before and come out the better. Watching the folk of Dawning was like watching a beehive. It’s what a good leader can do. James’s dad had taught him that. And his dad had always respected Brinley Scareye. He was one of his best. What kind of person are you now, Brinley? Just as paranoid as Derudin?

There was a row of pitched tents on both sides of the inner bailey, and refugees from all over the country were taking shelter there.

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