* * *
Night fell heavy across Sur Spear’s camp. The smell of burning flesh reminded the men of the price their comrades paid for war. Alone in his red pfalz command tent, the king pondered the counsel his commanders had offered him. The entire camp was saddened by the loss of comrades and the macabre Pitter rites. The king cried into his hands.
A guard came rushing to the door of the tent, gave three distinct raps, and was admitted.
“My lord, we have found a Pitter emissary holding Hamidraca’s Staff with its death’s head fastened atop it.”
“Is the emissary armed?”
“Not unless you consider the staff he holds and a bugle hanging at his side, but other than that he has been thoroughly searched and has no other weapons.”
Sur Spear considered for a moment. He looked to Wycliff. “Summon my commanders back.”
Wycliff slipped past the guard and exited the tent. After all the commanders had assembled and he had quickly explained the reason for the summons, the king ordered the guard, “Bring the emissary near.”
The commanders all stood with their hands upon their swords, being well aware of the suicidal missions these black cowled priests were capable of.
The Pitter emissary entered the tent with three other guards. The dark figure was nearly as tall as Sur Spear and fearfully skinny. Beneath his hood, his facial tattoos seemed to move in the dim lantern light, like the skin of some horrible reptile. The very air surrounding him was filled with a malignant energy.
Sur Spear spoke. “Child of Ish, what evil business brings you to darken my door?”
The ghoulish emissary said, “I am Grantrattus. I’ve been sent by the most exalted Commissar Hamidraca, who bears the hair of nineteen Pittings on his belt, to request a parley between the Herewardi heretoga and Hamidraca. To negotiate terms. I offer the staff as proof of identity and authority for him to conduct the same.”
Sur Spear said, “I see. Just where is this parley to take place?”
“Wherever you say.”
“There! Under the wide spreading bay tree next to the magnolia banner.” Sur Spear said. He pointed up to the stars. “When the man wagon’s tongue touches Raw Top which by your reckoning is one hour’s time, we will meet. The commissar may be accompanied by no more than three attendants. I will have my men escort you back and you may convey this message to Hamidraca.”
As soon as the emissary was beyond earshot, Sur Spear ordered, “Put your men on full alert. Assume fylking phalanxes. Have the bonfires fueled and stoked for greater visibility. All men armed! Put all on alert.”
The commanders left on their assignment, but Onamingo remained.
Onamingo said, “I assume they will be demanding safe passage in return for the release of the children.”
Sur Spear pondered for a moment. “Are you recommending we trade two thousand plus of their worthless lives for two children?”
“The destinies of Brekka and Going Snake will more than amply repay us for granting life to this disgusting vermin.”
“Perhaps? But how many other innocents shall not have a destiny because of the two thousand we let live?”
“No, my valued friend. As the Herewardi say, we do not bargain with the future. We bargain with now.”
“Yes, you are right.We can only affect the skein we hold in our hands this moment before it spins out of our control. Thus is the Wyrd written. We bargain for the value we wish now. That is all the gods can expect of us.”
At the appointed time, Sur Spear heard the warning whistle of the sentry.
Onamingo said, “My lord, here they come. I count three warriors only as escort.”
A red plumed commander, and the commissar dressed in a black cowl approached them in the darkness under torch light held by one of the three escorts. By some dark magic the commissar wasn’t limping. The only sound heard upon their approach was the snapping of the magnolia banner in the breeze.
“Sur Spear of the Herewardi, I am Hamidraca, the newly appointed commissar of the Eugene Zonga. I know you wish me dead. I wish you dead. We will no doubt meet again and I will kill you without mercy. Perhaps even at the bottom of a pit. Even a coyote will chew off its leg to survive and I shall do likewise here. I know full well you have us trapped, but I choose to live to fight another day and so I offer you this bargain. Our Great God, Angrar, has delivered into our hands two Herewardi children. The girl had in her possession tokens indicating she is of royal birth. Thus, I am sure the children are of great value to you. I propose to exchange their lives for safe passage of my armies back to the Eugene Zonga.”
Sur Spear glanced at Onamingo whose expression remained stoic. “What proof do I have that the children will be delivered alive?”
“I offer myself as your hostage. Allow all of my men to leave and the last two of our soldiers in the canyon will exchange the children for me and my life.”
Sur Spear’s jaw muscles tightened as he strove to maintain a calm facade. “We will let you leave one hundred at a time. Once you reach the end of the marshes, we release the next hundred.”
Hamidraca said, “I will agree to two hundred.”
Sur Spear answered, “You may leave one hundred at a time or not at all. In addition to that, you must exchange two of my warriors for the two children right up front or there will be no passing. This will all take place at first dawn.” For the first time Sur Spear got a good look at the face shadowed by the cowl. It was even more grotesque than he had imagined.
“Why should I give up those choice prizes?”
“That is my offer. Accept it or reject it. There will be no other. In addition, you shall have to leave your arms.”
“I protest such terms. You could fall on us to slay us, and we would have no defense.”
“You must know from your dealings with the Rogue Nations that my word is law throughout Herewardi Lands. You and your rat-cynn, on the other hand, are known for your treachery and altering bargains as it suits you.”
There was a long pause before Hamidraca answered, “We could only agree to such terms if it were to be two high ranking warriors, men of valor, such as the Red-Yellow Hair and his captain.”
Sur Spear turned and looked at Melyngoch and Leowulf.
Melyngoch stepped forward. “Here am I, Fa, send me. I’m responsible for all these losses. Send me.”
Leowulf likewise stepped forward. “And here am I, my lord, send me. Where my lord goes, there go I.”
“Then we are agreed.” Sur Spear said, “But know this, if any harm comes to Commander Melyngoch or Commander Leowulf. I will take the sword to Eugene and I will slay every last Pitter there. You know I have the power to do so and that a declaration from a high lord is as good as done.”
Melyngoch and Leowulf took off their armor and weaponry, laid them down on the ground and walked over to Hamidraca. After a signal from Hamidraca, the three Pitter warriors surrounded the two Herewardi and walked into the darkness toward the lights of the Pitter camp.
After a period of waiting, the Pitter guards returned and delivered the children.
“Here, are your children,” Hamidraca said, “Send your surety of our terms by returning my staff of power with the guards.”
Fergenstream took Brekka by the hand. She barely acknowledged him as if she were not aware of her surroundings. Going Snake appeared the same.
Sur Spear demanded, “What’s wrong with them?”
“Just a little potion from the Poisoned Lands to make them pliable. We had to. They were both uncontrollable wildcats. The potion will wear off soon with no harm done.”
“Remember the vow I just made. If you lie, I will destroy every Pitter in Eugene.”
Fergenstream put his arm around Brekka and Onamingo put his arm over Going Snake. Sur Spear ordered, “Take them to the hospitalers, have the young Dr. Shanks examine them.”
Sur Spear gave the death head staff to his guard and then said to Hamidraca, “Never let your vermin pass into the bounds of Herewardi
Lands again. For no such trade will ever apply again.”
Hamidraca replied, “The same goes for you, Sur Spear. I will one day walk on the ashes of your wives and children and cut your seed off out of the land. Never show your men in our Zonga Lands. Our Great God, Angrar, has pronounced your final sentence is past due.”
* * *
Morning broke clear and bright with no sign of the customary fog. Ary had slept but a few hours, too wracked with guilt and the image of the horrible scenes below. While the others still slept, he rose and walked to the edge of Raw Top. He had heard the sounds of activity throughout the night, but darkness prevented him from seeing what transpired below. The awful sacrifice the night before had robbed him of all but a few hours of fitful sleep. He was mortified with guilt and despair and had contemplated hurling himself from the cliff, but Herewardi honor would not suffer the rejection of one’s fate, self-murder being the greatest of sins. When Bear Jim told him what was about to take place when the altar was being erected, he had the insight to ask Jim to take the twins and Bnimin to hunt for food.
Now as he eagerly scanned the canyon, he saw that the legionnaires that had been trapped were now out of the briar hole. Also he noticed a large group of them were marching out in file before the Herewardi camp while others were piling their weapons at the mouth of the canyon. Shifting his gaze toward the Herewardi camp, he searched for the king’s red pfalz tent. His Fa Fa sat mounted on Chaucer, his stallion. To his astonishment, Brekka stood nearby with Going Snake.
Elation shot through him. Whatever had transpired during the night he could not tell, but he was delighted that his sister and Going Snake were still alive. Oh Holy Urth, Great Sister of Fate, thanks for weaving them back into the tapestry of life.
“Everyone, wake up! Going Snake and Brekka are alive.”
“Yay! Father will be so happy!” Yelled Ev’Rhett.
“Look, right there by the pfalz tent, Going Snake and Brekka are safe in the king’s company.
Tears streamed down Arundel’s face. “Praise to the gods. The knots of my heart can now be untied and I can face my family again.”
“Look there,” Bear Jim explained, “Ain’t that the damned child-killer commissar?”
“By the gods, it’s the one I shot. I thought he was dead until last night. I wish my arrow had found his heart.”
Jim rumbled. “We may have never got out of here if he had died. Though none of this seems aright. I ain’t ever heard of a commissar surrendering or allowing himself to be taken captive without killing himself.”
Arundel declared, “Nor have I ever seen a Herewardi accept their surrender.”
Bear Jim said, “Your wily grandfather must have pulled off some sort of exchange.”
The twins leapt up and down, flagging their arms and screaming to get Brekka’s attention.
“Save your breath,” said Bear Jim. “She won’t be able to hear you from up here.”
Bnimin asked, “Is it safe to go down, now?”
Ary announced, “Look into the Pitter camp. Is that not Melyngoch and Chief Lieutenant Leowulf Sharpknife?”
“Aha! I see what your grandfather has done. He’s traded the officers for the children. We won’t be going down yet, lad.” Bear Jim declared. “If there is some sort of arrangement, we don’t want to upset it.”
The day was tortuously long. Ary and the others busied themselves with packing and preparing to leave camp. The twins were so persistently eager to go that they repeatedly asked if they could go ahead without them. Ary distracted them. He had the boys groom and prepare the horses. As the sun moved overhead, Ary inquired, “How long will it take us, Jim to get down from this ridge?”
Jim rubbed his beard, “Well, a lot longer than it took us to get up here. You know horses can’t go downhill as well as they can up. So it’s going to be slippery and it’s going to be dangerous. I think the trail fell off in that landslide. We may be needin’ your grandpa to get us outta here with ropes. I think we ought to be fixin on leaving once the sun is on the third point of the medicine wheel. Otherwise the trees will make it dark before time and we’ll never get down alive.”
The End
Thank you for reading Witan Jewell. I hope that you fell in love with the heroes, hated the villains and laughed with the jesters.
Witan Jewell is the third book in the eleven book series, The King of Three Bloods, which follows the many trials and tribulations faced by the freedom-loving Syr Folk. If you enjoyed this, the third installment, you are humbly, though excitedly, invited to continue your journey with all the many colorful characters in book four, The Isle of Ilkchild.
It has been a pleasure to write these books. If it has been a pleasure to read them, please leave a review of this book on Amazon and Goodreads. Every review helps this series get noticed, and every time this series gets noticed, it motivates me to keep producing more stories. Thank you for reading The King of Three Bloods.
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PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
KEY TO SYMBOLS USED
a about
ă ask, pat, map
ā able, bake, way
ä alms, father, call
ð this, either, bathe
ĕ ebb, met, second
ē eat, mete, me
ei air, hair, bare
erpermit
ĭ it, him, mirror
ī idle, fine, deny
ō over, bone, know
ouabout
oyboy, loiter, oil
þ thin, path, with
ujump
ūrule, boot, two
* * *
Aegir æ-jēr
Aegthijiof ăg- þēʹäf
Aelfheah ălʹf ēʹa
Aelfy ælʹfē
Aetheling æþʹlēng
Aethelos æʹþl-ōs
Aethelstan ăʹþl-stăn
Ahy ä-hē
Ahyyyokah ä-hēʹē-yō-ka
Albigensians ălʹbĭʹgĕnʹsēʹĕns
Alph ălf
Andrimnir ănʹdrĭmʹnēr
Angrar än-grär
Apache a-păʹchē
Ariel ärʹēʹĕl
Arundel ä-runʹdʹl
Aryfae ärʹē-fā
Aso ā-sō
Athelstan ăʹþl-stăn
Atla ătʹla
Avaroth ăvʹä-rōth
Baldur bäl-dūr
Balmor bäl-mor
Beoelf bāʹō-ĕlf
Bnimmin bnʹyʹmĭn
Brekka brĕ-ka
Bronoak brōʹnōk
Bruna brū-na
Brunswan brūn-swän
Bulwylf būl-wĭlf
Caballo Blanco kä-bäʹyō blank-ō
Cato kā-tō
Chaucer chäʹser
Cha’Kal shă-kăl
Citriodoran sĭʹtrēʹō-dorʹan
Clotilde clō-tĭlʹdĕ
Colomba cō-lōmʹba
Comanche cō-mănʹchē
Coquille cō-khēl
Dak däk
DiAhman dī-ä-män
Dina dē-na
Dominiker dä-mĭ-nĭʹker
Don Guerra dän gūeirʹa
Donya Margarita del Borego
dōnʹya mär-gäʹrēʹta dĕl bōʹrā-gō
Dori Linsner dorʹē lĭnsʹner
Dycon dīʹkōn
Earindil ēʹärʹĭn-dĭl
Elfy ĕlʹfē
Elijah von Hollar ē-līʹja fōn hälʹler
El Judio ĕl hūʹdēʹō
Elrus ĕlʹrus
El Shaddai ĕl shăʹdī
Elwas ĕlʹwäs
El Yid ĕl yĭd
Elfhava ĕlf-häʹvä
Elfhere ĕlfʹhēr
Elohim ĕlʹō-hēm
Elrus ĕl-rus
Elwod ĕl-wōd
Esdraelon ez-drāʹlän
Ethelflaeda ĕþʹl-flāʹda
Eugeners yū-jēnʹrs
Eurydice yerʹĭʹdĭʹsē
Ev’Rhett ĕvʹrĕt
Eva Scheible ā-va shī-bla
Evangeline ēʹvăn-jĕlʹēn
Faechild fā-chīld
Faehunig fā-hōʹnĭg
Faeimp fā-ĭmp
Faewylf fā-wĭlf
Fergenstream ferʹgĕn-strēm
Flamma fläʹmä
Frey frā
Freya frāʹa
Friedrich Durer frē-drĭk dūrʹrer
Fromer Muckenschnabel
frō-mer mū-kĕnʹschnäʹbl
Fyrd fērd
Georg gēʹorg
Ghettisbuhr gĕtʹĭs-ber
Gloomulah glūʹmū-la
Godgifu gōd-gēʹfū
Godhi go- ði
Godija gō-dē-ja
Goldhart gōld-härt
Gondulwulf gändʹl-wulf
Govannon gō-väʹnun
Greta grĕ-ta
Grokk gräk
Growling grouʹlēng
Habraham hä-bräʹhäm
Haeland hā-lund
Hagele hāʹgĕlʹĕ
Haligewaecca hālʹĭgʹĕ-wā-ka
Hartmut Hagele härt-mūt hāʹgalʹa
Heilige Schrift hī-lēgʹa
Heimdall hīmʹdäl
Heinrich Stoltzfuss
Heretoga heirʹĕ-tōʹga
Hereward hēr-wärd
Herewardi hēr-wärdʹē
Herewose hēr-wōz
Herewulf hēr-wūlf
Herman Kesselmacher
herʹmĭn kĕʹsl-mäʹkher
Hermod heir-mōd
Hickathrift hĭk-a-þrĭft
Hickoryan hĭ-korʹyĕn
Holla hällʹa
Hoth-Weard Ev’Rhettson
häþ-wērd ĕvʹrĕt-sun
Hotuekhaashtait hō-tūʹĕ-käʹäsh-täʹēt
Howrus houʹrus
Hrafn hräʹfn
Hrethel hrĕ-þl