The legend of Frith
Or, the Orphan, the Fool and the Alchemist
Lowell
J. Stevens
“Battle
not with monsters, lest ye become a monster. When you stare into the abyss, the
abyss also stares into you.”
~Friederich
Nietzsche
1.
“The
one known as Frith, a son of the Aridoc Clan, was slain on the field of battle.
As a captain of the elite guard he acquitted himself with honor in destroying
the threat of the Glassmen and their horde of ravagers. His body was not
recovered from their unholy Third Citadel. His men will mourn his loss.” ~Excerpt
from death notice sent to Aridoc Clan from King Jarus Stolenbrow.
The
silence pressed in on Theo like a weight as the rest of the town slowly fell
asleep. Beyond the walls of the tiny shack that he had built for himself out of
the ruins of his parents’ cottage the townspeople were ready for the execution
of the murderer.
He
wasn’t, that much Theo was absolutely
sure of. He wore the armor of the Alchemist’s guild, carried a sword like the
rest of them, despite the fact that only very rich families and the Named clans
were allowed to carry those weapons. His leather traveling pack was filled with
the items that he needed to create his elixirs and essences, and he wore the
bamboo plates of armor fortified with elestrum that only a great knight would
be able to afford. His arms were covered in the ranking tattoos of the
Sovereignty’s secret warriors; tattoos that denoted kills, great deeds and
feats of valor. They had found him confused and covered in blood, both his own
and others, wandering in the forest outside of Silverbone, a puzzled look in
his sad brown eyes. A courier reached them only hours later, both describing
the man they had fed and clothed in the council hall and the death of Aolir,
the oldest of the heirs.
The man was even now in the stocks,
and in the morning he would be dragged to the bluff that overlooked the choppy,
charcoal sea and beheaded. His head would be put in a box and sent to the heirs
for a reward, his body stripped of valuables and then thrown to the
brinedevils.
Theo knew the man was innocent.
There wasn’t a way that he knew, but ever since he was a child he had known
things before they happened, or when there was no way that he could have known
them. He knew when he smelled smoke that night that his parents would not
survive. It did not stop him from trying to save them, to wake them, but he
knew it was futile. He knew when he saw the Meister bumble out of his house in
a knotted mass of fur coats and gold chains, staring at the inferno with a
mixture of surprise and greed that the Meister was somewhat responsible. No one
believed Theo, though. Not even Wat, the shipbuilder and his father’s best
friend.
So at sixteen, Theo dug through a
charred pile of lumber, carried his parents’ half-torched remains to a secluded
meadow where he felled two strong pines and made their coffins, with the tall
stumps as headstones. He stripped the bark from the pale wood and chiseled
their names carefully and buried them there. Then he went back into the town,
dragged the more useable struts and plates of shingled roofing to make himself
a hut in the corner of town, over the gutter that drained out the corner of the
walls. There he had lived for the last three years, biding his time.
Theo carefully packed his few
belongings into a traveling pack. A slender bamboo fishing pole and string with
a steel hook, a sharp filet knife that he sheathed in his right boot. A half
loaf of bread and some cheese wrapped in a cotton kerchief and a small leather
bottle of wine. The harvest moon hung overhead, swollen and orange.
The Meister, in his perennial
short-sightedness, hadn’t bothered to place a guard at the square where the
weary man now sagged in the stocks. The cobblestone streets were empty, save
for a wandering cat or raccoon here and there. Theo moved to the shadows and
squatted on his haunches, watching the man. Either he had chosen not to
struggle, or he had exhausted himself earlier. He wasn’t even bothering to
examine the flimsy pin that locked him into place, just out of his reach.
Rather than immediately free him, Theo stashed his belongings near a rain
barrel and then silently moved across the square. The man didn’t notice him,
which was better. The guard shack stood near the main gates, and while it was
always locked at night, no one had bothered to fix the leaky roof, which had
subsequently softened with the constant rains that kept the forests lush. Theo
climbed up to the roof and with a strong kick, the roof of the little building
caved in amidst a shower of rotten wood and startled beetles, dropping Theo to
the dirt floor. On a shelf, the traveler’s wooden pack and neatly folded
traveling garments sat. Theo grabbed them, slinging the traveling pack over his
shoulders and grabbing the clothes and tossing them over the wall to the ground
outside. He didn’t see the armor, so Theo stood on the table and clambered out
of the ruined shack, dropping to the ground outside. For a moment he stayed in
the shadows that the moon cast down on the sleeping town, watching for
activity. Satisfied that no one had heard, he crept to the stocks.
Theo waited for the man to notice
him, but the prisoner appeared lost in thought. Theo slowly moved to the side
until he was directly in front of the man. Still, he didn’t appear to notice
Theo.
“Please don’t say anything.” Theo
whispered. The man started, viciously banging his chin against the bottom of
the yoke. He remained silent, though blood started to drip from his chin. He
watched Theo warily as Theo stepped onto the platform and yanked the rusty pin
out of the loop and dropped it into his pocket before lifting the top of the
yoke. The man straightened slowly, putting his hands to his lower back to
straighten it as it popped. Theo lifted a finger to his lips, and then handed
the man his leather pack and clothes. They had stripped him to only a dirty
loincloth, and Theo turned as the man discarded it and quickly dressed. When he
was finished, he whispered “Where’s my armor?”
“It’s probably in the Meister’s
house.”
The man pursed his lips in a silent
oath.
“I can get it, but there’s no way to
silently get out of town,” Theo said. “Wait by the guard shack. I’ll need your
help to open the gates.
“Are there guards?”
“Two, but they’re brothers, and old.
They can’t give chase for long.”
“Horses?”
“None.” Theo silently pointed to the
gate, and then crept off in the direction of the Meister’s house.
The back door was slightly ajar: the
Meister’s lone maid was prone to midnight wanders spent with any of her many
lovers. Theo slipped inside, quiet as a shadow, and quickly found the armor in
the huge wardrobe that dominated the sitting room. He pulled it out as quietly
as he could. Upstairs, he heard a floorboard creak and froze, heart thudding in
his chest. No other sounds followed, so Theo started to leave. He suddenly
realized that the sword wasn’t with the armor. He crushed his frustration with
practiced control and started to make his way upstairs.
The Meister was a bulbous lump in
the shuttered darkness, his wife a stick. A slat of moonlight illuminated the
sapphire encrusted crest on the pommel of the sword, leaning against the wall
between the nightstand and the bed, opposite the door and directly next to the
fat hand of the Meister. Theo crept on all fours across the floor, testing each
board for sound before putting his weight on it. Without warning, the Meister
snuffled and rolled, the bed creaking like a ship before he settled again into
the down mattress. Theo moved suddenly towards the handle of the sword,
carefully extricated from the confined space that it occupied, threading it
around the Meister’s outflung arm and then clutching it to his chest. He hadn’t
held a sword before, and he resisted the urge to stare at the weapon. They were
incredibly rare and incredibly illegal to possess if one was not a knight or a
landed Gentry. A boy in another town had fashioned a crude one from a broken
plowshare and half an axe handle and was beheaded the next day.
Theo turned to leave when suddenly
the Meister sat up in bed, nightclothes flowing around him like a fat ghost. Theo
didn’t wait, dashing out the door full tilt. Down the stairs three at a time,
halfway down his ankle turned in the darkness and Theo tripped forward,
suddenly airborne as behind him he heard the lumbering sounds of the Meister
waking his wife and stumbling sleepily from the bed. Theo hit the planking
heavily, letting the sword fly from his hands rather than come free of the
sheath and skewer him. Theo heard the sword shatter the china cabinet as he hit
the ground. Pain was radiating up his right leg, but he forced himself to his
feet and limped as quickly as he could to the ruined hulk of the Meister’s
prized possession, yanked the blade out of the mass of shattered porcelain and
glass and then stumbled to the door, snatching the armor from where he had laid
it before. Upstairs, the Meister had opened the window and was shouting for the
guards. As Theo yanked the back door open he was met with the startled maid
standing on the doorstep. He pushed his way past her, feeling starting to come
back to his ankle as he broke into a shambling run toward the main gates. He
reached it in a few minutes and handed the sword and armor to the man, then
began to push on the doors. He looked behind to see the two old guards, Jancy
and Marko, confusedly wandering out of their house at the far end of the
street, carrying clubs and still dressed in their dressing gowns and nightcaps.
The man shoved with Theo, and the heavy gates slowly swung open, revealing the
dark forest beyond. The commotion was bringing out more of the townspeople, and
Theo knew it wouldn’t be long before crossbow bolts started flying. He and the
man started to run down the road when Theo stopped.
“My pack!” he hissed. “Go, I’ll
catch up.” Theo turned and dashed back towards Silverbone and its enraged
citizens. Jancy and Marko had reached the gates when Theo bulled into them,
throwing them to the sides as he ran as quickly as his tender ankle would
allow. The dewy cobblestones were as slick as soap and his boots lost traction.
Theo slid into the rain barrel, tipping it as he grabbed his satchel and pole.
Then, hands full, Theo rose and ran back towards the gate. Marko grabbed ahold
of Theo as he passed, trying to keep a grip on his shirt, but Theo threw his
knee hard into the old man’s groin and Marko fell back, squalling. Theo dashed
into the darkness as the Meister lumbered to the gate, and then Silverbone was
behind him.
2.
“’What do you
want of me, Fox?’ Frith asked. ‘I have no money and your brother the Wolf will
soon be here to empty my belly of its guts. Let us be away.’ ‘Ah, but what he
does not know will not hurt him,’ Fox said. ‘for I have a plan that may make us
both wealthy men…’” ~From Frith and the Fox’s Daughter
The man had stopped a few hundred
feet down the road and had put on his armor. He was standing next to the
sigil-stone that signified the beginning of the Silverbone territory with his
sword naked in his hand. When he saw that Theo was not being chased, he
sheathed the sword at his side. Theo slowed from a run to a walk and then
stopped, breathing heavily, hands on his knees. He smiled, and then laughed.
“I wasn’t expecting to leave that
noisily,” he admitted.
“Why did you rescue me?” The man
asked.
Theo was quiet for a minute before
straightening and putting the strap of his satchel over his shoulder and
running the pole through the twine loops he had sewed onto it.
“Because you’re innocent,” Theo said
at last, “and too many innocent people die already for one more to die.”
“But why do you care?”
Theo looked him in the eyes, and
then looked away. “Few deserve to die, let alone someone who is innocent.”
“I could be guilty.” The man’s
puzzled expression matched the one that he had worn when dragged into the
stocks.
“You’re apparently stupid,” Theo
said, “questioning why I saved you when I could have let you die.”
“You’re a cheeky bastard.” The man
almost looked offended.
“I’m Theo,” Theo said, extending his
hand.
“I am Caeth of Avonlea, third son of
Varien.”
“So you are gentry.”
“I was.” Caeth turned. “We should
go. I owe you my life and for that I am grateful. I’ll help you find a safe
place to live and be on my way.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to
happen.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re an alchemist, correct? And
none of that ‘was’ rubbish.”
“True,” Caeth admitted.
“You’ve had the murder of Aolir
blamed on you and now everyone wants the two million noble reward that’s on
your head.”
Caeth pursed his lips and nodded
once.
“We’re now both being hunted as
equals because I assisted you in your escape, which means anyone who captures
me is entitled to a reward equal to a quarter of the bounty on you.”
“Where did you learn magisterial
law?” Caeth asked.
“Never mind that. We have a better
chance of surviving together. The country’s a big place, but the Sovereignty
has eyes and ears around every corner.”
Caeth laughed. “You’ve got heart.”
“I’ve got purpose.” Theo said. “I
need to find out why my parents were killed and who paid the Meister to have it
done.”
“I hate to say this, boy, but it was
probably a spite killing. How did they die?”
“You’re just a ball of tenderness,”
Theo snapped. “House fire.”
“Your mother left a lantern lit.”
“She didn’t, and that’s not
important. What is important is that the Meister had my parents killed and I
want to know why.”
“What makes you so sure that he had
it done?”
Theo struggled to find the words and
finally settled on “I just know.”
“’I just know’ isn’t good enough for
a magistrate, Theo.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”
Theo crossed his arms. “I’m the only reason that your skull isn’t a dice cup on
the Heir’s gaming tables.”
“Okay, okay.” Caeth held up his
hands. “You’re right, I’ve been unthankful. You don’t even know me, though. Why
would you want to travel with me? I don’t even know where I’m going.”
“I have a feeling you do know where
you’re going.” Theo said. “You are someone who can get things done, and that is
the kind of person that I need helping me. I want to avenge my parent’s death
and find out why they were killed and I wasn’t. There’s a reason I’m here, and
I think this is it.”
“Revenge is a purpose that destroys
the life it guides.”
“I don’t need your wisdom,” Theo
snarled. “I need your knowledge and your assistance. Since we’re running
together now, you may as well be my guide and my companion.”
Caeth was silent, and then began to
walk. Theo walked after him, adjusting his pack.
“You’ve got no purpose. You’re on
the run, and I’ve finally found my path. I need your help. I need your skill
and I need your knowledge. You owe me your life, and I will consider that debt
repaid if you help me.”
“I owe you my life, but I have no
obligation to help you.” Caeth turned and seeing Theo’s expression, laughed.
“Don’t take it so hard. You’d just get in my way and I’d spend all my time
convincing you that you don’t want to do what you are doing. I hope I don’t see
you around.” Caeth turned, waved without looking, and started to stride down
the road and into the lightening dawn.
“I didn’t want to do this,” Theo
called. “But you’re forcing me. I invoke the creed of Elegy.”
“What?”
Caeth whirled to face Theo. You can’t…how do…you’re not…what?”
Elegy’s creed was something that
Theo had heard his father discuss. If a debt was owed and was not repaid, the
offended had a right to petition at the Shrine of Elegy, deep in the forests of
Orlis. The petition would ensure that the one who owed the debt would fall back
into the same trouble that the favor had rescued him from, but this time the
consequences would be tenfold. While some dismissed this as superstition, the
hundreds of stories surrounding the isolated shrine and petitioners gave many
reason to believe. Caeth among them, it would appear.
“You little…” Caeth drew his sword
and advanced on Theo. Theo held his hands up.
“It’s already been invoked: if you
slay me now you’ll be dead before dawn.”
Caeth spat a curse and slid the
blade into his sheath. “Once the debt has been fulfilled, I will kill you for
this.”
“Do what you like. When your debt
has been fulfilled I will die willingly.”
“You’ll die regardless, and I’ll be
fortunate if you don’t get me slain as well.”
“We shall see.” Theo said. “It all
depends on what happens now.”
They walked for most of the morning.
Silverbone was set in a hollow amidst huge hills covered in pine and fir trees.
The forest bled across the northern coast and down to the central plains, where
it opened up to the capital city, Bel Falthorn. There, the Sovereignty was
seated, the Six Thrones of the Heirs ruled the Sovereignty from there. Farther
east, the barbaric Glass Ects and their mortal enemies, the thirteen dwarven
clans, remained in a state of perpetual warfare. Any attempts to subjugate
either race had been met with utter slaughter in the rough terrain of the
mountain. The Sleithr lived there too, mysterious beings that some said were
the hungry undead and some said were the Glass Ects’ distant cousins, foul
creatures that wore the skulls of giant wolves as helmets and rode saddled cave
bears, swinging macanas made from the bones of their kills. Even the Glass Ects
didn’t molest them, letting them live in their warrens deep below the earth at
the heart of volcanoes. The Glass Ects themselves lived in the swamps that
filled the valleys of the Steel Mountains
On the plains, humans lived at peace
with fisher-folk, the peaceful rivermen that spent as much time in the water as
out of it. Pale blue skin and luminous eyes made them more frightening than was
warranted, but they spent much of their time living in their deep lake-villages
and only coming out to trade their crafts and catches, or living on circular
ships the size of a town that stayed in the middle of the huge lakes that
mottled the land.
Caeth was stubbornly silent as they walked;
not responding to Theo’s few questions with word or action. In fact, he rarely
acknowledged Theo’s presence. As the day wore on, Theo grew hungry and took out
the food he had brought. The closest to actually acknowledging Theo’s existence
came when he offered Caeth his food, but after a moment’s hesitation only
visible with the flicker of Caeth’s eyes, Caeth looked obstinately forward once
again. Theo shrugged and finished off half the loaf and cheese, stowing the
rest carefully in his pack for later. Streams were few and far between, despite
the constant rains, and until they reached the Fairth river in a few dozen
miles, there wouldn’t be a place to fish. Food needed to be conserved. Theo
wished that he had more money, he only had a few marks to buy food with, which
wouldn’t last long. For the first time since their haphazard escape a few hours
earlier, Theo began to wonder if he had done the right thing.
