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    Oberon's Narrows
    Oberon's Narrows
    Oberon's Narrows
    Ebook163 pages2 hours

    Oberon's Narrows

    By James C. G. Shirk

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    About this ebook

    Merkim, the Merrow Queen, sends her prized brigade of Paladin Lancers to the mountain city of Bolkov. There, they are to rescue her Lady-in-Waiting from the vile Merman King, Rax. On the way, they must journey through a treacherous pass. What befalls them on that fateful day, and in that place, is the story of Oberon's Narrows.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJames C. G. Shirk
    Release dateApr 19, 2015
    ISBN9780990637721
    Oberon's Narrows

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      Book preview

      Oberon's Narrows - James C. G. Shirk

      Chapter 1

      When Captain Balforte entered the small anteroom situated close to Merkim’s chambers, a look of resignation clouded his face. He knew the queen didn’t really to want hear the details of what happened in Oberon’s Narrows any more than he wanted to tell her of them. That she was already ready and waiting inside, therefore, came as a surprise.

      Your Highness, he said, bowing.

      She nodded. Captain, please be seated.

      The queen sat at the head of a heavy wooden table, hands placed demurely in her lap, fingers worrying a lace kerchief. As always, she was elegantly dressed; today, in a studded, high-collared, light-blue gown. Her golden hair shone in the light streaming through one of the two windows strategically placed to highlight her chair from behind.

      The meeting place was not chosen at random. He knew that. His visit concerned paladin business, and this room was dedicated to their lore. The walls were gold and purple and covered in military paraphernalia. Swords, spears, armor, and lances were arranged in decorative displays while shields bearing paladin-themed intaglio hung on the walls just inside the doorway. The room reminded a visitor of the queen’s power, and she used it frequently when she was intent on intimidating a guest.

      This, however, was not such an occasion. She chose it today, because it would give him comfort to be in milieu dedicated to his brothers.

      He pulled out a chair and sat not quite across from her, so she didn’t have to look directly at him if she chose not to. The man always showed respect, no matter the circumstance.  You’ve finished your investigation, she said. It was a statement, not a question.

      Yes, Milady, although the results are not as definitive as we’d hoped.

      You mean with respect to who perpetrated the deed.

      Correct. Although we have no doubt who was behind it, finding solid proof—or at least enough proof to offer as evidence in front of the High Council—has been, I’m afraid, impossible.

      She noticed his words were clipped, as if he was struggling with them. Who wouldn’t under the circumstances? Let us hear your report first and then decide the impossibility of assignment.

      Of course, Milady.

      Merkim considered him for a moment, letting her eyes tell her more than his words. I can see this is difficult for you, she said. Your son, Arian, I believe, was a lancer.

      Yes, he was. In fact, he was admitted to the First Royal just six months before— His voice caught in his throat. He looked down at his hands. I’m sorry.

      I am the one who is sorry, she answered. She gave him a moment while he gathered himself before going on. Two of my personal guards also had sons in the First Royal, she said.

      Yes, I’m aware, he replied, "Tarik and Pelamar. They trained with Arian. You were probably unaware the three of them were together for a while during their days at the Utbildningen Anläggningen.

      Actually, I was cognizant of such.

      Of course. Sorry, Milady. I did not mean to be untoward. He cleared his throat. When the two of them got accepted to the lancers before Arian, it was a source of irritation for him. He forced a small smile. And a bit of amusement for them, or so he told me later. Becoming a lancer had been his goal since boyhood.  He knew the brigade was famous for their daring and dashing ways. Even among paladins, their reputation was so. Being a Royal Lancer, he’d say, was tantamount to being recognized as the best our kind could ever offer. That’s what he wanted more than anything. Being the best was a passion in him.

      Great passion tends to lead one to great deeds. Now, tell me what you know of the events at the Narrows, she said, urging him to begin his report. Start at the outset, as though we were speaking before the High Council.

      Yes, Milady. He readied himself. It was late in the evening when word came down from paladin High Command. The First Royal was to move out on an unspecified assignment as soon as possible. They were to prepare themselves with full battlefield gear and provisions for a week or two. Many had been asleep at the time, and it was likely pandemonium broke loose as they began preparations to depart...

      Chapter 2

      W here are my vambraces ! Pelamar yelled while simultaneously trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

      In your locker, Arian replied.

      No, not the ornamental ones, the real ones.

      Look in the bottom. I thought I saw you throw them there when we came back from our last exercise, Tarik said.

      He dug through a pile of clothes. There they are, he said, relief in his voice. He turned and looked at Arian. Is this also an exercise, do you think?

      Arian shook his head. Doesn’t feel like it. He looked around and motioned for both his friends to come closer. I shouldn’t tell you this, but my father said things have been tense in the sanctum over the last few weeks. He thinks the queen has had enough of Rax’s games. Could be the lancers are about to teach him a lesson.

      What? You really think we’re headed for the tower?

      Don’t know but could be.

      Damn.

      At that moment, the centurion minor entered the barracks.

      Lancers, hold! yelled the first lancer to notice his arrival. The twenty-four young men dropped what they were doing and hustled to attention next to their beds.

      The centurion walked purposefully to the center of the building, stopped, and clicked his heels together. Looking up and down the row of expectant faces, he said, The queen’s First Royal Lancers have been ordered to assemble for a mission, and that includes the second company, second platoon. In other words, you malcontents.

      The paladins looked at each other and grinned.

      So, let’s pack up. Grab your individual bivouac gear, full armor with shields, and winter uniform. Fall out to the stables in twenty minutes prepared to ride immediately. Our destination and purpose will be explained later.

      He paused, looking into every eye. Two-Two-One, he finally yelled.

      The group responded in loud voice, Hay-Ho!

      The centurion wheeled around and left the barracks.

      Arian turned and looked at his two friends. Looks like I was wrong. We’re definitely not going to the tower.

      There’s only one place that’s cold enough for winter gear at this time of year, Pelamar said.

      All turned their eyes to look out the barracks window and into the dark that hid the Niflheimr Mountains in the distance.

      Chapter 3

      The First Royal Lancer Brigade is permanently quartered just north of Tir fo Thuinn at a post called Strongbark . The brigade, known colloquially as the Queen’s Brigade, has as its primary responsibility the safety of the city. Historically, it has also been the forward brigade in all major engagements fought on behalf of the long line of merrow queens. The lancers are revered by nobility and citizens alike for their exemplary service over the centuries.

      Strongbark itself is fashioned as all paladin fortifications. Through the front gate lies a central parade ground for brigade gatherings, and directly behind it are the lancer barracks and training facilities. To the left of the grounds is the mess hall, captain’s quarters, and care center, and to the right are the stables, blacksmith, and quartermaster stores. It is a simple and efficient layout and the same as exists in all eighteen paladin forts, six keeps, and singular naval station that the paladins occupy across the lands of Tir fo Thuinn.

      The First Royal Lancers, as are all paladin brigades, comprised of four hundred men broken down into four, one-hundred-man companies. Each man in the lancers is a highly trained, mounted paladin.

      Tonight, the Strongbark parade ground is awash in activity as the lancers assemble.

      Lancers . . . prepare to mount, the centurion major shouted. A moment later, he ordered, Mount.

      On the parade ground, surrounded by dozens of lit torches, the lancers stepped into their stirrups and hoisted themselves to the backs of their big stallions. As they secured their shields into brackets next to their legs, youthful pledges, standing by to help, steadied the horses and handed each paladin his lance when he was ready. The men lifted and planted their formidable weapons into cupped holders mounted on the right side of the saddle.

      These were not the lances used in jousting which were blunt and rather thick. These weapons of war were sleek, amazingly light, and equipped with faerie steel points that could pierce any armor when delivered by a paladin on a charging horse. The tips, shining in the light, were a sight no enemy ever wanted to see across a battlefield. Infantry ranks were routinely decimated by a lancer charge, and few enemies remained in Faeriedom who would dare challenge such a brigade of men. They were efficient, fast, and had a reputation of uncompromised heroics in battle. The First Royal Lancers had never been defeated in battle.

      Arian adjusted himself in the saddle and took a quick look down the rank. Dark blue capes hung around gold armor, which shone in the torchlight. Lances rose into the night sky like waving spines on a sea dragon’s back. Behind the tip of each lance, a purple silk streamer floated in a light breeze. Each was emblazoned with the black outline of a soaring raptor, which served as a backdrop to showcase a fiery red numeral one. The number seemed aflame as the ribbon rippled in the air. This was the imposing insignia of the First Royal Lancers.

      And it was impressive.

      He stole a look at Pelamar and Tarik next to him. Their eyes shined through the openings in the metal helmets that covered their faces down past the cheeks. A stirring of pride, the rush of excitement and nervousness fell over him in equal proportions as he tightened the reins. He was a First Royal Lancer, and he was about to be tested.

      The brigade captain turned his mount to face the company.

      Lancers, hold, the centurion major called out.

      Four ranks of paladins straightened their backs and snapped their lances to full attention.

      Brothers, the captain said solemnly, tonight we ride for the queen. I will, as always, ask no more of you than I am willing to give myself. We are the tip of the queen’s spear, the first on the field, the last to leave. If some do not return, let it be said your sacrifice was given in valiant service to Her and your brothers. Remember this always: We are the First Royal Lancers. Now in service and forever in life. He paused, looking them over. Putting his hand to chest in the paladin salute,

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