Fiction: Son's Blood - Chapter One (Part 1)

Weary travelers queued up in a ragged line at the main gate to Vastall. The wealthy moved around them, given preferential treatment by guards who gave each entrant a cursory examination. Among the dusty throng, clad in the dark, tattered dress of a peasant widow, Bracer waited impatiently.

She was not eager to enter this city again, nor was her mission one of urgency. Still, for good or ill, she would be glad when she could put this visit behind her. The coarse cloth of the dress she wore irritated her skin, the hood she wore to cover her hair made her uncomfortably warm.

I should have found a better disguise, she thought, but she had always been one to grab what was at hand and make the best of it. What irony to be returning to the city with her identity cloaked once more. When she left, the girl who did not yet call herself Bracer had worn boy's clothes. She could no longer recall the name of the man who had saved her from the city, nor what nickname he had given her, thinking her a lad. All Bracer recalled now, thirty-odd years later, was that before perishing in battle, the soldier had set her on the path to becoming a swordswoman.

Bracer shook her head, fighting off the recollections that competed forher attention. She had journeyed here to set memories to rest, not stir up others. Still, looking up at the foreboding stone walls of the city, she knew she could not help but face the past.

"Impressive ain't it," came a voice from her right. She looked over atthe cobbler who had shared the road with her for the last few hours. "First time you've seen Vastall?"

"No," she said, trying to make her voice sound as old as her disguise madeher look. "But it's been a long time." Here was not only a distraction from her memories, but a chance to find out what had happened in the years she'd been away. She asked what she hoped would seem an idle question. "Does Baron Venire still rule the city?"

The cobbler laughed out loud, and so did the man on her other side. He was a tinker, carrying most of his wares strapped to his body so that he rattledwith every move he made. "Made 'imself king, 'e did."

"King?" she repeated. I have kept myself too far from Bacaria, not tohave known something like this.

She looked from one man to the other, wondering what to ask next, but the tinker was quite willing to gossip without prompting.

"Let me tell you how that came about," he offered. "The Baron..."

"King Shasteral 'e calls himself now," added the cobbler.

"Well," the tinker continued, scowling at the shoemaker for the interruption, " your baron decided 'e was the true ruler of all the small localdomains. Said 'is great- grandfather was of the royal line, and that the Great Kingdom should never have been split up. One by one, 'e attacked the other holdings, adding them back."

"The kingdom's larger now than it was in his great- grand's day, though," the cobbler said. "Didn't stop with retaking lands 'e could rightfully claim. Everything from Mountainhold to the coast is 'is now. But it was all done cleverly. Proclaimed 'imself king, then decreed that all the lands originally given to his great-grandfather should declare their allegiance. Any that didn't were pronounced treasonous and the army went in to put down the so-called rebellion."

"Can't say 'e's a bad ruler, though," the tinker commented. "Been kind to'is people, and to the lands 'e conquered. They say 'e has a good man advising'im. Lord Alonder's 'is name. It's 'im who planned the way the armies overthrew the local kingdoms. King Shasteral made 'im chancellor a few years past."

On hearing this, Bracer's eyes fluttered closed momentarily in relief. He still lives.

Though the men continued talking, she did not pay attention to their words. This was the only information she required. Bracer would not even need to ask directions to the chancellor's residence, for she knew Alonder would have remained in the family home.

Now her only obstacle was getting past the guards at the gate without arousing their suspicion. As she and her companions finally neared the entrance to the city, Bracer tightened her grasp on the lead reins of the spindly horse that pulled her rickety cart. She bent her head, breathing deeply and steeling herself for their scrutiny. If the guards probed beneath the hay in her cart, she knew what they would find.

Discovery of the well-worn sword and its ragged scabbard which lay in the bottom of the cart, wrapped in a heavy battle tunic and tied with scarlet bands, would surely raise questions. It would give the guards reason to search her. Though she bore no contraband, they would learn that the widow's rags clothed no aged crone, but a woman whose features did not even show their near-fifty years. The guards would see the lean, hard body of a warrior woman and, in a land where women did not take up the sword, this would cause trouble enough.

Knowing her a soldier, their attention would return to the most suspicious item she was smuggling into the city. Fastened to the scarlet cloth, near the hilt of the sword, was a copper badge of the type worn by officers in the Hordavan army.

She dared only a glance at the guards as she paused before them. That badge was her most cherished possession, but if they found it, they would sieze it and accuse her of being a spy.

"Move on," one guard said before her horse had fully stopped. Gratefully, she continued on. Behind her, she could hear the guards questioning the tinker.

"Where were you born? What city did you visit last?"

Bracer waited till she had turned the corner before relaxing. How would she have answered such questions, especially if they had found the badge?

Though she could truthfully say the copper hexagon was a battle trophy, having served King Rasperd would hardly make a good alibi. He was notoriously power-hungry, and might easily be eager to learn a way to take Bacaria's capitol city.

But the information Bracer sought in Vastall would not aid in toppling a kingdom. All she wanted was an end to her nightmares and the peace of mind that would enable her to be a soldier again.