The Broken Realm

Chapter 3

HADRON

The stranger sat steadily on his black destrier, his cloak rippling in the wind. The sole path to Windred lay ahead, a snake of stone and gravel winding through many copses of ironbark and oak into the distance. He came from the southern reaches and had travelled a long way. A hint of nostalgia overwhelmed him and he slowed his horse to a trot. Memories that he had buried deep down, resurfaced like the tide at the full moon.

"..." The stranger murmured in a barely audible voice.

He was dressed in a boiled black leather jerkin and ring mail, concealed under a thick hooded cloak of wool. The stranger stopped to watch the sun fall below the horizon, splashing shades of red and orange across the sky like paint on a canvas. Waves crashed against the cliffs, creating a never-ending symphony of land and sea. The stranger shook the melancholy from his heart and urged his destrier forward. Many do not ride in the night, choosing to wait for dawn. Slavers, brigands, wolves and other strange things... The night held many terrors. And so they fear. Not he. It is the denizens of the night who should fear him.

Windred awaits.

Frett had been guarding the gates to Windred since the moon rose. A man of twenty-five, he would have looked very ordinary if it were not for the ugly ropy scars that ran across his face. A souvenir from a lynx that snuck from Blackwood and crept upon him unaware. There was little movement in the night but he had learnt not to be complacent, bored though he was. Boring is good, he thought, touching a hand to his scars. His scars still ached on nights like this. His fellow guardsman Edcar had already snuck into a corner and now stood with his eyes closed and head bowed, still as the Crags.

The rhythmic clatter of hooves against dirt stopped Frett in mid yawn. "Someone's coming!" he whispered urgently to the sleeping Edcar. Edcar stirred and wiped the drool from his mouth. The guardsmen gripped their spears and stood at attention. From the black of the night, a hooded rider emerged. He rode alone, an uncommon occurrence in the night.

Grabbing a torch, Frett gestured for the stranger to dismount. "State your name and manner of business," he challenged with practiced fluidity.

"Hadron of House Bowse," replied the stranger brusquely. "Manner of business... Shall we just say leisure?"

"Leisure?" Frett moved his torch closer, attempting to peer under Hadron's hood. The shadows obscuring his features seem to come alive in the flickering light of his torch. His skin shone luminously pale in the moonlight like that of a corpse. "There is no leisure had around Windred."

"You'd be surprised."

"I've never heard of a House Bowse before. From where do you hail?" remarked Edcar, wrinkling his nose in suspicion.

"From the south. Near Talaris. It has been a long ride."

"Talaris? Is it true what they say? King Hadron's army descends upon Talaris?"

Tugging his hood closer to his face, Hadron replied. "I know nothing of that."

"You seem familiar... Have you been here before?" probed Edcar.

"A very long time ago."

"You're pretty well armed for someone claiming to be on leisure. Those are some fine pieces of iron." Frett indicated with a slight tilt of his spear at the destrier. Three swords of polished steel hung sheathed in their scabbards on the horse. "I'm no swordsman but I do believe you have one sword too many. Tell me, how does a man wield so many swords?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Hadron tossed a purse towards Frett. "With coin."

The jingle of coin was unmistakable. Frett caught and pocketed the bag in a single swift motion. "You should have said so earlier, m'lord! Let's not trouble the good sir." replied the guardsman with a wink before waving him forward. "Just take care not to make trouble. Things are... tense right now."