A Warrior's Journey Read online

  A Warrior’s

  Journey

  Book Two

  of

  The Warrior Kind

  Guy S. Stanton, III

  Words of Action

  Copyright © 2013 by Guy S. Stanton, III.

  Published by Guy S. Stanton III at Smashwords

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Ordering Information:

  A Warrior’s Journey is commonly available for sale everywhere eBooks are sold.

  Author Website

  A Warrior’s Journey/ Guy S. Stanton, III. – 2nd ed.

  ISBN 978-0-9910565-1-4

  Dedicated to all the missionaries

  who have and continue to this day to take

  the Word of God to the peoples of the

  world at great peril and cost to themselves.

  ―The Map of the Ancestor’s World

  Chapter One

  Into the Fire

  I watched as the steel heated up to a cherry red glow in the forge before me. Knowing it was time for the next step I pulled the glowing rod out of the hot coals with the pair of iron pincers.

  The pincers grasped the rod on the tang end of what would become a sword. I swung around and placed the still glowing rod across an anvil.

  My twin brother, Gavin, began to pound away with a hand sledge at the semi molten steel. Sparks flew as he aimed his blows and I adjusted the rod across the anvil in time with his heavy strikes of the sledge.

  Sweat rolled off of both of us, but we didn’t care. We were too into the love of creating every boy’s fantasy object, a sword.

  We had made swords and knives before, but this one was special. Our oldest brother, Talaric, had asked us to make this sword for him. He rarely asked or had so little to do with us most of the time, which made it a big deal, when he had asked us to make a coming of age sword, a man’s sword of war.

  We were completely engrossed in our work, as this sword reflected the new found respect that many were coming to see in our work. I reflected with every pounding hammer strike of the day that Gavin would help me create my own coming of age sword. Giving Gavin a glance I surmised that his thoughts consisted of nothing farther then the joy he received in the pounding of the red metal into a new creation.

  He was predictably content in the moment of whatever he was doing, it was just the way that he was. My thoughts always drifted more to the future and the far reaching effects that I wanted to be a part of. Gavin would probably write a poem about making the sword later on, which I would probably end up helping him untangle.

  Gavin had a great gift for stating complex issues into a simpler straight forward way, but when it came to writing it out he was hopeless. He kept trying though. That is one thing our father had grilled into us, always keep trying. As long as the fight was alive than there was a chance for victory over whatever the obstacle was at the moment.

  I was the third son born to my father, Roric Ta’lont. He was the leader of our realm. Gavin and I were twins, but Gavin had been born twenty minutes before I had been. We were far from being identical twins as some were. He was bigger and brawnier, while I was the leaner and more quick witted one.

  Our oldest brother, Talaric was the living replica of our father. He was slightly bigger than father, but not as quick, I thought. My father was untouchable in a fight and I doubt if there would ever be a day he was bested in a fight.

  I had two sisters, one older and one younger. Our oldest sister, Sansa, was like our oldest brother in that she generally had little to do with us and we her. Our little sister, Ellanarra, tagged along with me and Gavin wherever we went, like the wart that we couldn’t get rid of.

  Okay that was mean of me. She was okay for a girl, I guess. I just wished she wasn’t always pestering us. Our mother was the string that held us all together. She always met us on the common ground that we needed, at the moment we needed her most. She was always there for us, for me anyway. I didn’t have many friends.

  Truth be told I didn’t really have any friends other than her and Gavin. Gavin didn’t really count as he couldn’t help, but be bonded to me as his twin. There was possibly someone else that I could call a friend, our fighting instructor Rolf. He was my father’s closest friend and confidant, other than my mother. Rolf and I were quite similar in temperament.

  We were both quiet and not prone to be overly talkative, especially to people we did not respect. I gathered that he quite enjoyed my presence during our quiet sparing matches and I his. Father had been rather absent from my life for the past few years and I had convinced myself as to why that was.

  Affairs of state and dealing with my older brother’s antics seemed to eat up all his time. The latter made me angry, because I very much wanted my father’s attention too. I had expressed my anger regarding the usurpation of my father’s attention by my older brother to my mother once and she had told me something that had given me peace on the matter.

  She had said, “Zevin have you ever considered that the reason your father is spending more time with Talaric right now is not because he loves him anymore than he does you, but rather because that as the future leader of our family your older brother is lacking in several key aspects important for leadership that you already posses?”

  In genuine consternation at what those aspects could be I had asked, “What would those be?”

  She had taken my hand and looked me directly in the eye and said, “Your quiet and reserved by nature, which means you won’t give away what you’re thinking or feeling in a diplomatic setting. You’re a master at being able to control your own emotions, which could help you avoid making rash decisions in either matters of state, war, and even love. When you act upon something it’s because you’ve already studied every angle to the problem and have come up with the most likely path to success. When you act, you fully commit yourself to the action until it is complete. You’re a natural born leader Zevin and your older brother is far behind you in so many ways.”

  I hadn’t realized that I possessed such qualities or that I was such an open book to my mother. Her telling me that had made me feel in some way above the situation and after that I no longer grew envious of Talaric, for the extra attention that father gave him.

  He needed it more than I did. The knowledge of that had given me peace and even an odd contentment that enabled me to walk confidently in my brother’s shadow.

  I had asked my mother, “What good does it do me to have those abilities for leadership seeing as I will never have the chance to be a leader?”

  My mother had only smiled and reached out her hand to brush the long tendrils of black hair off of my forehead. “Have patience my son. I am fully encouraged that God has a plan for you that will utilize all the many gifts that He has blessed you with.”

  My mother always had a way of comforting me in a way that made me feel special and unique inside. I came back to the present. My hands hurt from the vibrations caused by Gavin’s methodical hammer strikes to the hot steel taking shape before us. It was a good start.

  Ga
vin stopped pounding and I lifted the rough blade off the anvil and doused it in a barrel of water nearby. I liked the hiss of the water when the hot iron was passed through it. Pulling the rough blade back out I laid it to the side.

  “Your good Gavin, there’s no doubting that!”

  Gavin studied it critically, “It could be better I think, but I guess it will have to do for now.”

  I avoided rolling my eyes dramatically. There was nothing wrong with his hammer work. His problem was that he was a perfectionist by nature and thus never happy with his work. It could always be better.

  “One day I’ll make you a sword. A special sword I think.” Gavin said speculatively.

  “I know you will and I’ll help you.”

  Surprisingly Gavin shook his head no, “No I’ll make the sword myself and it will be perfect. You deserve such a sword!” He finished strongly, clearly not wanting to hear another word on the matter.

  I may be the quiet one of the two of us, but he was by far the more enigmatic one. He was very serious about his faith in the Creator and talked to Him all the time like the Creator was right next to him. Maybe He was.

  I had often thought that my brother saw more than the rest of us did, except for maybe my father. My faith walk with the Creator was simple. I believed in Him, because I had seen Him witnessed out in the lives of my parents and had experienced enough of Him in my own life to know that He was real.

  I did my best to be faithful to everything that I knew to please the Creator, but I couldn’t help think that I was missing something in comparison with my brother’s relationship with the Creator. I knew this area of belief was perhaps my parent’s biggest concern with my older brother Talaric. Talaric loved life and the pursuit of it. Nothing wrong with that alone, but he had a tendency to overlook or bend the rules. He always did it though with his charming smile.

  Shouts rang out and I heard the lower gate opening up. Talaric and Larc’s patrol had come back. I left the blacksmith shop and Gavin to see what news the patrol, if any, had acquired. At the head of the column rode Talaric and Larc together, they were laughing about something.

  Larc was like a son to my father and if Rolf was his right hand then Larc was the other hand. Larc was universally liked by everyone, especially women. They seemed to have a soft spot for him.

  Larc better than anyone was able to control Talaric’s sudden and often vicious bouts of unreasoning anger. The patrol had brought back visitors with them. It was Zarsha and her husband, Captain Jansa from the Tranquil Islands.

  Much had been said against her for marrying an older man, but I for one didn’t see the point of it. Captain Jansa was a man’s man and he wasn’t that much older than her.

  I thought she had done well for herself and was glad for her. She had always acted like a second mother to me as I was growing up. I had missed her since she had gone away to the Tranquil Islands, but things change. That was a lesson that was being enforced onto my consciousness the older an older that I got. It was the way it was, like it or not. Change was inevitable in life.

  It was going to be a long visit and I’d pay my respects later as I had no love for being in the immediate spotlight of the social meet and greet going on. I ducked out of view and headed out to the practice field to take out some of my youthful aggression on some practice dummies, as I escaped away from the crowds.

  Gavin watched his brother skip out and felt immediately envious of him. He’d like to skip out on all the greeting stuff to, but as he didn’t practice much he didn’t have the excuse that Zevin did.

  Sudden loud laughter caused Gavin to look darkly back to the patrol at the laughing form of his older brother at the head of the column. He doubted whether mother or father fully knew just how far Talaric had fallen in terms of morality.

  He didn’t feel that it was his job to report what he knew about his brother’s activities unless his parents asked him, which they did sometimes about various things. Gavin sighed and laid down the half finished sword that his hands were still itching to continue working on.

  At least one of the two of them had to be responsible and show up to the welcoming committee. It looked like he had been elected by process of elimination.

  In all fairness Zevin did usually make the social appearances so it was at least somewhat justified for him to skip out on one such occasion. Gavin closed the door of the blacksmith shop and ambled somewhat reluctantly up the path to the great hall and the loud cheering throng that had gathered.

  Roric kept his face controlled from the anger he felt, when he learned that Talaric had taken off with Zarsha to visit Krista without first coming to report to him. Larc stood before him in all seriousness expecting to get his share of abuse for letting Talaric run off, as he well knew what was going through his mentor’s mind.

  It was always the duty of the patrol leader to give the report and Talaric had been the patrol leader.

  “What do you have to report?” Roric asked stiffly.

  Larc swallowed and began, “It’s as you feared sir. The Zoarinians have begun to exert influence once more in the Southern Settlements. They have not made a military presence yet, but I fear that they are making their presence felt in a darker way.”

  “Are you referring to the dark cult that we are increasingly hearing of?” Roric asked sitting up slightly.

  “I’m afraid so Roric. We heard and saw evidence of the presence of their priests everywhere.”

  “Did you see them?”

  “No that was what was most disturbing. They seemed to know that we were coming and vanished before us. What I found most disturbing though Roric is that after everything we have done to free the Southern Settlements from Zoarinian control they seem to be drifting back to them and these new strange beliefs.”

  Roric nodded gravely, “Thank you Larc. You can go now.”

  “Yes Sir!” Larc said eager to get away from the tempest he saw brewing in his step father’s eyes.

  Roric got up and stared out the large window of his private council chamber at the grand panoramic vista that opened up beyond the walls of the castle. He didn’t like any of what was happening.

  It had been twenty two years since the great battle that had won the Valley Landers their freedom from the threat of the Zoarinian Empire. The first twenty of those years had been the best years of his life, but the last two had been full of troubles.

  At times he didn’t know if he was imagining the threat he felt or if it was really happening. For some time now he had the feeling that everything was slipping away somehow.

  It had started with the emergence of a strange dark cult that called themselves, Lights of the Prophets.

  They taught a strange story that had similarities to the words of the Creator, but was marketably different in where it led its believers and what it asked of them in regards to salvation and the end of time. Worst of all he thought that he knew where this dark new faith had come from, the accursed book that Father John had stolen so many years before.

  Once again as in that past time, Roric felt that the Valley Landers were becoming isolated away from the rest of the world, while the forces of darkness gathered in the shadows.

  Would it be a war fought with swords and arrows this time or something else?

  More important was it a war that they would win? One thing was certain; war was coming in one form or another. Movement caught Roric’s eye outside the window and he saw Talaric climbing up the stairs outside headed for the meeting that had been his responsibility to keep and not Larc’s.

  Roric saw Larc headed down the stairs no doubt intending to stop him. Talaric made as if to pass, but Larc grabbed a hold of him and pulled him along back down the stairs. It was evident that the two were speaking heatedly with each other, but Talaric let Larc lead him away.

  Inwardly Roric thanked Larc for keeping him from his oldest son. Today was one of those days when the iron control that he kept on his temper was wearing decidedly thin. Of all the other things going wrong
, his oldest son’s antics were among his chief concern.

  Where had the boy, who had idolized him and wanted to grow up to be just like him gone? Mentally Roric ticked off some of the behaviors that Talaric had started manifesting in the past two years; tardiness, lying, causing fights, lack of discipline, not obeying orders, and most lately whoring.

  He hadn’t told Krista about the latest addition, but she probably already knew. Roric examined himself for the thousandth time since this behavior had begun.

  Was he a bad father?

  Was he somehow to blame for all this?

  He couldn’t see how he had modeled any of those behaviors to his son, quite the opposite actually. A cool hand slipped into his right hand and he looked to the side to see his lovely wife beside him. Her presence was always calming and he welcomed that relief especially right at this moment.

  She drew into his side wrapping her arms around him and he wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and drew her tightly to him seeking the comfort of her embrace. They stared out the window together for a moment.

  “Talaric he…”

  Her hand came up and covered his mouth softly. “I know dear. I heard.” She said softly.

  “Honey am I a bad father?”

  “Of course not! Talaric is responsible for his own actions, not you. He is of an accountable age and you have only modeled the best behavior to him and all your children. Talaric knows what he is doing is wrong, but he’s choosing to rebel never the less.”

  “Why? Doesn’t he know what’s at stake? And if that wasn’t enough, how can he walk out on his faith and us like he is?”

  “He’s young and full of youthful desires and he’s simply making selfish choices. One day he’ll see that the way he’s behaving is costing him more than it’s worth and he’ll come back to us. What’s important for us to do is to keep loving him and praying for him.”

  Krista moved around to stand in front of him and looked up at him with a serious look in her eyes, “If I could make a suggestion?”