Calhosian Border Wars

Chapter 2

Aran awoke to darkness once more, the thought of those fetid stinking chambers clawing at his mind like a steppe lion at a flimsy wooden stockade.

*Calm, calm. I can't panic now*

Slowly his breathing became a steady rhythm once more, the cloying scent of blood, mold, and fear being replaced with wood, smoke, and… honey?

Fumbling in the dark, Aran found the tray of soft cured meats with a bowl of broth, both now long since cold, but he was too ravenously hungry to care.

Aran's noisy awakening in the dead of night must have roused the others, for he soon heard the door creak open on well worn hinges. Momentarily blinded by the light, the form revealed itself to be Saelona who said in that odd almost stilted accent of hers "You found the food Arandeir. I am glad though it must been cold, was it not?"

"It was, but filling all the same." Aran replied, attempting to rise from the bed, straining under the effort.

Saelona firmly pushed him back down before saying sharply "Are you that eager to hasten your own death? Yet you struggle to sit, but you think you have strength enough to walk? More food and rest, that will do you good." She finished by snatching the wooden bowl and tray before making for the door.

Coming back with more of the cured meats and another bowl of broth this time with a large hunk of black bread. Aran ate the hearty meal and was soon struggling once more to stay awake, just as the first rays of dawn filtered through the gloom outside.

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Waking once more to blinding light, Aran grasped at fleeting memories that might have well as been dreams, and roused from his stupor at the sound of Saerus's voice.

"Lad," he said with a sigh, "there are some things we need to discuss before anything else."

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Aran replied "is, is it about payment for your aid? For I have nothing to offer 'cept my labor once I've regained my head."

"No no no, nothing like that." Saerus continued, waving away Aran's concern with a meaty hand. "But it does concern your place here."

"I can't know what you remember and what you don't, so let's just start from the basics. The Clans of Prandaur have lived in this place for well, quite a lot longer than anyone is certain. We've stayed out of the border wars more or less, and can hold our own in a siege but are far enough off the King's road between Arvendon and Staptonbeck to be of much interest to the armies of lords and self-styled emperors." He says with a snort before continuing.

"But even if we were lad, they'd need the blessings of all the gods to hold this place. For if they breach the walls we just retreat into The Depths, the parts that are mapped are safe enough. For us that is. Horrors lost to time, and some still frightfully whispered await those who stray too far. “

Saerus sat on the bed and sighed before continuing. “Now comes the hard part, lad. The people here, well we’re quite insular to say the least. As far as concerns you, the others outside my family and a few trusted agents don’t know you're here yet. And I can only imagine the stir that’ll cause when they find out. But they don’t have to if you catch my meaning.” Aran recoiled as much as his leaden limbs and aching body would let him.

On seeing his shock and fear, Saerus looked dismayed. “No lad, not like that. By the gods I couldn't put a man to death I just saved, now could I? No no, once you're well enough to travel I can give you provisions and enough supplies to make it to the next town or a bit further if you stretch it."

"Your other option if you chose to take it is to stay, but that has its own complications. I can't say more now, but if you choose to make your home amongst us then you will learn in due time. But be warned you won't be seeing much of the outside world, especially being an outsider and all."

Getting up Saerus continued sternly, "You needn't make a choice yet Aran. Think it over carefully, you'll need to mend for a few more days at the least, ideally longer."

Aran passed the intervening days in alternating states of indecision and apprehension while his wounds healed.

Finally making his decision on the fourth day since he awoke in Saerus's house, he was now able to walk with only slight discomfort and no longer had dizzy spells that left him incapacitated for hours as his skull screamed with red hot pain.

He looked across the solidly built oaken table at Saerus and set down his spoon next to the carved wooden bowl.

"I have to go." Aran said barely above a whisper. "You have been kind beyond words, but I need to know what happened." he continued after swallowing, "I need, I need to know who I am, and I'm sorry but that can't be done within these walls."

"Very well." Saerus replied curtly, a brief look of disappointment flashed across his face as Saelona goot up and went upstairs without saying a word. He turned to watch her go before looking back at Aran. "She's taken a liking to you lad."

Aran stared down at his nearly empty bowl of stew and sighed.

"I'll get your things. One of my men will sneak you out just before the changing of the guard. Head northeast, you'll reach a small hamlet a day's march on the western bank of a small river, that's the Osfieldge, and the hamlet doesn't even have a proper name but it's home to the Serencour family. They aren't as big as the clans here and we've done some trading with them in the past but they don't take too kindly to us followers of the old ways. Best not to mention you were here."

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Aran walked east along the bank of the river he now knew was the Yeomerthonia, into which the Penteford to the west and the Osfieldge flowed. The walled warren of rooms and passageways several hours behind him and the scattered moonlight gave him just enough light to see by.

finding a place within a secluded stand of oaks he made his camp for the remainder of the night, intending to set out at dawn. Warry of wild animals or bendits he feared may be lurking he kept the short arming sword close at hand. A final gift from Saerus, having claimed it served him well in a past of which he was reluctant to speak. It's worn scabbard of boiled leather still seemed to glow softly in the dappled moonlight, a testament to the pride with which the older man cared for the tools of his trade. The hilt was engraved with the crest of the Aulcot clan, a crossed pick and sword with a torch blazing behind.

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A restless nights sleep and Aran took his pack and left the stand of trees, picking his way through the sparse forest, and gnawing on some dried cured meat he considered his next options. Directions and hpefully some hospitality from the Serencour folk which he thought were still most of a days walk ahead. once he reached the nearest good sized town he'd sell his services a highered sword, make some coin and head west, eager to see what he could learn of the recent events of which he had no doubts that he was a part in some small way.

These thoughts and plans for the future went up in the smoke of a burning homestead as he rounded a hillock and saw in the distance still smouldering ruins. From the stench of charred and burnt flesh and dead animals he knew he'd receive no aid from the Serencour.

On leaden legs Aran willed himself foreward, knowing he'd starve if he left, his meager rations would last a day or two at most. Even if he knew where to go in this foreign land, he wouldn't make it without supplies.