The New Kingdom

Part I

1

The town of Calahandria lay 20 miles away from the border of the Northern Kingdoms. The little town with a population of 6,000 people had a big reputation; it was one of the most important trading outposts in the Middle Kingdoms. Every week hundreds would flock to the town’s Inner Square to buy, sell, and barter for goods. Sharp red wines and silver metals came from merchants in the Northern Kingdoms; Salt, exotic fruits, and sugar came from the abundant Southern Kingdoms; Silk and fish from the coastal Eastern Kingdoms; and ripe corn, sweet potatoes, and gold from the Western Kingdoms.

When market-weekend came, young Yenosha would go and hide in the forest. Trading day often meant trouble to the 10 year old boy who was the “village” bastard. Drunken merchants or even worse, drunken soldiers, would tend to hear about the boy in the local tavern; the talk of the townsfolk. Everyone, even outsiders, would know where to find the boy’s hiding place.

Yenosha had been born to a whore, never knowing who his father was and barely knowing his mother. He was told his mother died when he was only 2 years old, and was then brought up by a kind old woman who sold furs and tapestries at the Inner Square every weekend. When Yenosha was seven, the old woman had died from natural causes, and then he was on his own. Ever since then, Yenosha fought to keep himself alive, taking a daily job at the local tavern.

He hated working at the tavern in all the world, and hated Calahandria and the people who would not leave him alone. Most of all, Yenosha hated his parents, whoever they were. He imagined his mother wearing little or no clothing at all, and his father drinking down ale after ale, at the same time, both of them lying in bed with each other. The thought, more like a dream, sickened Yenosha. Sometimes he would wake up screaming and even cussing, telling himself how bad of a person he was. If his parents had made mistakes, then Yenosha certainly considered himself a mistake.

Yenosha lived in the Silent Wood, a coniferous forest less than half a mile out of Calahandria. He lived in a small cramped cave, being the only shelter he would ever get or deserve. When winter would come, he would nearly freeze to death. Autumn meant rain, lots and lots of rain. Even the rainwater would seep through the shelter and gradually leave Yenosha’s home a mess. Summer meant hot days, over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. But now, it was spring in the Middle Kingdoms. Yenosha loved spring, because to him, he felt like his soul was opening to a new life. Plus, Yenosha had been born in early spring. The spring season was one of the few things that made Yenosha lively. But now, spring was nearing its end.

2

Yenosha was working late Saturday night, filling the mugs with beer and ale. Saturday night was the busiest night, and certainly the most rewarding night for the tavern owner named Oddri. Oddri loved money, more so than his wife and two sons. The townsfolk would often whisper that Oddri would bathe in his money, or even wipe his arse with it. Yenosha believed every word of it, considering Oddri didn’t really care about his bartenders or his employees. The tavern owner was less respectful to Yenosha than to anybody else. He would often scream at the young boy, calling him by his name of “bastard” and other profanities that almost came out as gibberish.

But tonight Oddri wasn’t working because he had fever, so his son Andrew took his place. Andrew cared nothing for Yenosha, and didn’t even bother to tell Yenosha to do his work. In fact, Andrew was gambling with some of his father’s customers. Yenosha silently laughed to himself, noticing that Andrew had gambled away most of his clothes. The young adult was obviously drunk, almost dancing around the gambling table with no clothes on. The gamblers around Andrew guffawed uncontrollably.

Yenosha watched the whole stunt, curious as to what would happen if Andrew went home with no clothes on and smelled like a drunken sailor. His good mood disappeared completely though when he noticed a group of soldiers staring at him from across the tavern room. Five soldiers from the city guard eyed him suspiciously, and Yenosha knew that none of them seemed to be drunk. He averted his gaze, deciding to clean a table and pretend be occupied.

Eventually, Yenosha felt a hand grasp him on the shoulder and turn him around. The tall soldier had dark brown eyes that were like arrows soaring from heaven, piercing Yenosha’s eyes as if they were his feeble heart. Fear built up in Yenosha’s body, and he struggled to keep his calm.

“Would…Would you like a drink sirs?” Those were the only words Yenosha’s tongue could spit out. The four other soldiers grinned, and two of them broke into a light chuckle.

“The bastard speaks nicely,” the tall soldier said, sarcasm in his voice. “Your words, or the words of a whore?” All the soldiers laughed then. No one in the tavern was paying any attention to Yenosha and the soldiers, since the noise was so loud, barely a word could be heard. Yenosha wanted to cry for no reason, feeling like a lost toddler again. Suddenly not knowing what he was doing, Yenosha slammed out of the tavern door, running towards the Silent Wood. Yells and curses flowed from inside the tavern, and the horses whinnied noisily in the stables. Yenosha didn’t look back, but kept running. He knew the five soldiers were pursuing him on horseback, and sooner or later they would trample him to death. In the distance, Yenosha could hear one of the soldiers screaming “Kill the bastard!” The pounding of the horses’ hooves got closer and closer every second. Yenosha made his way into the Silent Wood, pushing away branches or loose vegetation that clung in his way. To his surprise, he had never been to this part of the Silent Wood, and so he found himself struggling to find which way to go.

As Yenosha ran, he found a path leading to a small stream, part of the Handris River. Out of nowhere, the horses broke out of the maze of never ending trees, only meters away from where Yenosha was running for his life. Not watching where he was going, Yenosha tripped over an old, overgrown root of a coniferous tree. Regaining his senses in the blink of an eye, Yenosha hassled to break into another run. One of the soldiers nicked Yenosha’s arm with a sword as he passed the young boy on his horse. Yenosha screamed, not in pain but in chaos and the unknown. He knew he was going to die, stuck on a path that was surrounded on two sides by rugged, steep terrain that rose high above.

Out of nowhere, a black steed literally came flying down from the steep terrain from high above. As the steed thundered pass, with a faceless rider, a long sword jabbed into the tall soldier’s neck. The soldier who had harassed Yenosha lay dead; frozen in fear, blood pouring from a large wound in his throat. One of the soldiers, upon seeing what happened to one of his companions, swung his horse around to try and flee. The rider on the black horse galloped with surprising speed, the long sword piercing through the soldier’s chain mail, digging past his spine. The soldier fell dead, the horse running while its lifeless rider was dragged. Amid the chaos, Yenosha kept his head down on the ground, hoping that the soldiers and the unknown rider would go away. He heard the clang of steel on steel, and more screams from the fallen soldiers. Whoever the rider was, he or she was determined to not let the careless soldiers get away. What seemed like hours was only a matter of minutes, and soon utter silence plagued the Silent Wood.

Yenosha heard his deep breathing and felt salty tears plummet down his face. His hands and face were dirty from falling into the mud. After some moments, Yenosha’s curiosity won him over, and he turned around to see what had happened. Four of the soldiers lay dead, while two of their horses just stood confused. Yenosha gained his footing and surveyed the forest. He saw the rider of the black steed, panting wildly. Blood washed down the rider’s left arm, obviously not going from this fight uninjured. Yenosha examined the wound on his arm, but as it turned out the wound was nothing more than a little cut.

Concern washed over Yenosha’s face, unsure of whether to help this stranger or not. The rider had saved him no doubt, but Yenosha wasn’t sure if he could trust a stranger. He cautiously approached the rider, now sitting on the ground. The black mare was shy, but came over to Yenosha so she could have her nose rubbed.

“Do you…”

“Build a fire boy. That is all I ask.”

3

Yenosha gathered wood for a fire, and soon enough, both the rider and he were sitting down. The rider spoke no more words after that, having been busy by throwing the four bodies of the soldiers into the Handris River. The rider decided to keep one of the soldier’s horses, and let the other chestnut stallion ride off free into the Silent Wood. The horse the city guard kept was a beautiful brown mare, and got along well with the rider’s black mare. The rider was busy fixing on the wound on the injured arm, stitching it up so that way the bleeding might stop. The rider wore a chain mail shirt, with iron shoulder and leg guards. The rider’s helmet was intricate with designs of animals like the eagle or dragon, and the rider carried a long sword that was still bloody from the killing of the soldiers.

Yenosha stared into the fire, not sure of how he should be feeling at this point. He wanted to ask the rider all types of questions, but didn’t think the time was right to ask anything. He tried to find the courage to ask.

“Who are you?” he asked without care. The rider turned that helmeted face towards Yenosha, still hearing the heavy breathing coming from inside the grey iron helmet. There was another long pause.

“Does that matter?” the steadied voice answered.

A gasp stuck in Yenosha’s throat. “So you’re a woman?” The rider sighed, but kept her calm otherwise.

“If I am, what does that mean? I saved your life boy. Be glad for it.”

“Am I your slave?”

The rider gave a low laugh. “I never said you were.”

“Then why am I still here?”

“You are here because you chose to stay. You can leave out of your own free will.”

I wasn’t born with free will, was what Yenosha wanted to answer. “I am a bastard, and I am below even the common slave. Like a slave, I have to be obedient. If I’m not obedient, then I die.”

“Then that is why those good-for-nothing assholes were trying to kill you. Those were not real soldiers. City guards don’t go and murder children.”

“You killed them though,” Yenosha protested.

“But were they children?” replied the rider. “Or were they adults with the brains of children? I saw them as neither so that is why I killed them. I do not regret killing them either. They are criminals.”

“And so are you,” snapped Yenosha.

The rider gave another long sigh. “I will not argue with a child. It does not matter now that I am an….” The last word got stuck on the tip of the rider’s tongue.

“Tell me who you are,” demanded Yenosha.

“Have patience child. For one, I was a warrior from the far-east. In truth, I am not even from the Five Kingdoms. I have come from very a far away land, a place where any man or woman could take up arms. My history is not important however. Where I travel, my history stays behind.”

“So, you’re n-not a knight?” A sour look was planted on Yenosha’s face as he asked that question. When he was younger, he dreamed that some day a valiant knight would save him; a knight that would allow him to become a squire. But bastards cannot become knights. Bastards have no rights.

“I’m not anything boy. I’m not a knight because women can’t be knighted.”

“Then what are you?”

“A woman from the far-east, I’ve been telling you. Why does it matter who or what I am?”

Yenosha knew that he had been beaten. For all I know she could be a murderer. She won’t tell me anything while hidden behind that helmet.

“Will you even show me your face?” Yenosha was dying to see who his savior was.

The rider gave a nervous sigh, and then slowly put her hands on top of her helmet. She lifted it off with some grace, and Yenosha was surprised by her beauty. She didn’t really look like a man, at least now, but she looked like a woman in her prime. Her hair was jet black, and ran almost down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep green, and her skin smooth and almost milky. She was probably in her early thirties, not yet middle aged. She was in better condition, Yenosha had thought. Her hair was certainly more pure than his dirty short brown hair.

“Do I scare you boy?” she asked in all honesty.

Yenosha shook his head.

“My real name is Arienne, but you can call me any female name you can think of. I think it would be better so that way none of us will get killed.”

Yenosha was startled. “Us?”

“I will give you a choice boy,” Arienne said. “You can go back to your town and be treated like shit, or you can come with me. By your look, you are seen as no better than a peasant. I highly doubt you have anything worth a good amount of money, and you’re better off coming with just the clothes on your back.

“What is your name as well boy?” Arienne asked.

“My name is Yenosha.” He was unsure of what else to say. He didn’t want this woman to know what he was. “I have no family; I was born a bastard in this village. Well, you already know I’m a bastard.”

Arienne’s eyes were full of pity. “From now on, you are not a bastard. And in five minutes, we are leaving this town. We’ll travel to the town of Gesshin, which is a two day walk east of here. Once in town, we’ll buy you some new clothes and maybe a weapon for yourself. Douse the fire and prepare our horses. You can take the brown mare, since she is quite gentle.”

Yenosha stared at the brown mare stupidly. “But I do not know how to ride a horse.”

“Well then,” replied Arienne. “Get up and teach yourself.”