Chapter 27: 23. Stories For Another Time

“To think I have to share camp with a leaf ear,” the boy said, grumbling to himself as he stared at the half elf, who was staring at him in return.

Magpie placed a hand on the boy’s head, rubbing it gently. “Are you planning on cutting his throat?” 

“No,” the boy said, shaking his head. He melted against her head, feeling the warmth of her touch. “If I did that, I’d be shaming you.”

“That’s right. If you end up shaming me, I’d never hear the end of it from Sparrow.” Magpie narrowed her eyes. “If he ends up teasing me because of you, I’ll have you run ten laps around capital.”

The boy frowned, knowing that she’d be true to her word. “I won’t slit his throat.”

“Good.” Magpie looked back towards the other three for a moment. “None of you are from Rock Hill, so I can trust that you won’t do anything.”

“I might,” the young man said. “He talks a lot of nonsense. The madman should be put out of his misery.”

“You’re free to try and take a swing at someone surrounded by six Iyrmen,” Magpie said.

“One of them is a boy, still. Besides, can’t you handle them?”

“One of them, I’m sure. One with the boy who has just come out of his nest? Maybe. There are six Iyrmen I count, and five of us.”

“We’d be slain before we draw our blades,” the oldest of the young women said. “Especially you.” She looked at the young man beside her who might be stupid enough to start a fight with the Iyrmen.

“Shut up, Jane.” The young man frowned. “No one asked you. Why do you always have to sour my mood?”

“Why do you have to say stupid shit?” Jane asked, raising her brow. She looked to Magpie, shaking her head. “Do you really want little Jon to be guided by someone like Rick?”

“Who else am I meant to ask?” Magpie asked. “I’ve spent years training the three of you to look after him, so don’t start any trouble, especially not with the Iyrmen.”

“You always treat the Iyrmen with respect,” Rick said, leaning back against the wall. “Why?”

“They always treat us with respect,” Magpie said. “If it’s one force you can rely on, it’s the Iyr. If anything were to happen in the future where you need help, retreat to the Iyr. They’ll take good care of you, and will make sure Magpie won’t end up like Starling and Blackbird.”

Rick shook his head, recalling their tale. “A hundred more years and the Order will be nine again,” Rick said.

“One hundred and ten,” Jane said.

“Not that it matters. I don’t think nine would be that much more powerful than seven, considering how rarely we meet.” Rick was sick of all the rules and traditions, but he wasn’t despicable enough to spit on Magpie’s efforts.

“That’s only if the world will still be well in a hundred years,” Magpie said. “There’s a reason why the Order of Wings was formed.” Magpie sighed, recalling how many times she had to warn them all. “Should I bring you tall to Robin? She’ll make sure you never forget.”

“No!” Jane and Rick sat up quickly, recalling the last time they had met Robin. She had seemed like a sweet aunt, but when Magpie had asked the woman to teach them…

“That’s what I thought.” Magpie smiled, seeing the look of fear in their eyes. It did annoy her slightly, since they didn’t fear her in the same way. “Anyway, we’ll take watches as normal tonight.”

“Do we even need to take watch when we have the Iy-“ Rick was cut off by a flick against his forehead, which he nursed by rubbing it gently. 

“What did I just say?” Magpie narrowed her eyes. 

Rick glanced aside. 

Adam looked at the group, which was sitting not so far from he and the Iyrmen. “Naming your members after a bunch of birds is a little too corny, don’t you think?” Adam threw a glance to Jurot, who was still carving his block of wood.

“Do you not know the tales of the Order of Wings?” Jurot asked, stopping his woodcarving to look at Adam.

“No,” Adam said, narrowing his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me tell you I’m not from around here?”

Jurot sat up straighter. “I will orate the tales.” He grinned wide, quickly putting his wooden block away.

“Are they really that amazing?” Adam hadn’t heard of them until they had met with a short while ago, though he realised that would be the case for the vast majority of things.

“All who take the Oaths are powerful,” Jurot said. “They gain strength from their conviction. Very few Iyrmen have clashed with any of the Order of Wings during their journeys, but they are some of the most powerful. Even the most experienced in the other Orders could barely match any of them. What the Order of Wings lacks in numbers, they make up for with their great strength.”

“How many are typically in each Order?” Adam tilted his head, wondering how many Orders there were.

“A hundred warriors, but there are many more servants. Almost every Order has a castle, with nearby villages taking care of their food needs. There are a few orders which are like the Order of Wings, those without a place to call their own. Few Orders are near any of the towns or cities, but there’s the Order of the King, which is housed within the capital. They are a hundred strong, and only ever a hundred strong, though each are powerful.”

“How powerful?”

“At least Silver Rank if they were adventurers.”

Adam whistled. “That ain’t too shabby.”

“They formed from the Swordbearers, swearing their Oaths to the King, to become their sword.

“Like King’s Sword?” Adam asked. 

Jurot nodded his head. 

“A smart enough idea.”

“The leaders of the Orders are powerful.” Jurot grinned wide, thinking about the stories he heard. “They say some are as powerful as our Great Elders.” Jurot couldn’t help but hope that he’d get to see them fight one day. Such a clash would be legendary.

“You two should go to sleep soon,” Tazwyn said, checking on the boys. “We have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Adam said, pulling up his bedroll. “I suppose I’ll have to hear more stories from you, Jurot.” 

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Jurot smiled. “I’ll tell you as many stories as you like.” As an Iyrman, he knew at least a thousand by heart, and several thousand summaries for other stories.

Adam rolled over to face Jurot, smirking at him. “So about the Blackwater Crisis.”

The next day towards the village had been full of stories, though the continuation of the Blackwater Crisis had eluded Adam still.

“Sir Jamie the Gold Hand wasn’t able to defeat the forces of Big Timber, but he allowed the King to retreat,” Jurot said, as they trekked through the forest, the evening sun filling the forest with light. “There is a statue of him in Gold Hill to honour him. They title the greatest Knight in the city Gold Hand after him too, so his story will never be forgotten. They crafted a new longsword for the Gold Hand since the original Golden Blade was lost since that day.”

“Lost? Does Big Timber still have it?” Adam asked, thinking about how amazing the sword sounded. To think that it could cut through giants like they were made of butter, it must have been a great loss to Gold Hill.

“They say it is within the lair of one of her descendants, since she was later slain by Gold Hand Elaine. Gold Hand Elaine had tried to retrieve the original blade, but she did not find it in the end.”

“What kind of enchantments did it have?” Adam asked, rubbing his chin. Hearing about the various weapons of heroes and their enchantments always filled him with boyish excitement.

“We’re almost there,” Tazwyn said, interrupting the pair, motioning her head up ahead.

‘Damn, I wanted to hear more about the sword...’ Adam frowned. “First Blackwater Crisis, and now this…”

The village was much larger than Adam expected. When he had heard he was heading to a village, he imagined a small place with a few hundred people, but with the size of the wooden fence around the village, there were many thousands who were housed within it. 

A wooden fence formed around the perimeter, with a large pit dug around it. There was a sturdy wooden gate and bridge at the entrance, which was currently being worked to allow them in. There were a few guards manning the small towers around the fence, with relief and hope painted on their faces. 

As they approached the bridge, Adam spotted some bones stuck in the pit, evenly spaced about ten paces apart.

An older woman came rushing up towards the gate, adorned in thick clothes, with a shield at her side, and a staff on her back. “Iyrmen!” she said, before looking towards the heavily armoured warriors. “Magpie, isn’t it?” Her dark eyes were wide with surprise.

“That’s me,” Magpie said, chuckling. “We were around nearby, so thought we might come and assist in your trouble.”

“Welcome, welcome,” the older woman said, motioning with a hand to invite them into their village. “You don’t have to worry about the gate fee.”

“Oh, how nice,” Adam said, having reached into his pouch, but withdrew his hand.

“Had I known we’d get a visit from a member of an Order, I would have kicked my nephew out of his room.” The older woman glanced towards a nearby guard, who nodded his head and quickly went to do just that. 

“There’s no need for that,” Magpie said. “Though we’d appreciate some accommodation.” 

“Of course, you don’t have to worry about that,” she said, bringing them towards the centre of town, where there were a few stone buildings and a small crowd forming like pigeons ready for bread. There were many grateful eyes peering at the group, though Adam could see a young woman with dark hair glaring at the group. She had a small bow at her side, as well as two clubs. 

He continued to glance around and noticed just how many people were armed. Some held spears, though most had blunt objects of some kind, even those who were in their early teens.

“Chief Herida,” the woman finally said, shaking their hands eagerly.

“Adam, son of Fate,” Adam said, shaking her hand. He could see the calluses on her veiny hands.

“Jurot, son of Surot.” Jurot bowed his head towards her, shaking her hands respectfully. He could sense her strength in comparison to the other villagers.

The Chief looked to Adam for a long moment, words glued to her throat, but she swallowed them down.
 
“Careful,” Jon said. “He’s a-“

Magpie slapped the boy across the back of his head. “Go get situated with the Wings,” she said, shaking her head. She threw a glance towards Adam, nodding her head slowly.

Adam nodded his head in return, glad that someone she was quick with her hands. ‘She must be used to disciplining idiots.’ He admired the form she had used when slapping the boy’s head.

The Chief glanced between them, but remained silent. She understood that there were some things which needed to remain a secret. “I have emptied rooms for the Iyrmen and the Adventurers here,” she said, motioning with a hand to a large building, though there was a man stepping out from the building opposite it, grumbling at the guard from before. “Please make yourselves at home.” The Chief smiled politely.

Adam and Jurot made their way inside the building, finding a small room which they could sleep in. There were a pair of beds, with enough space between them for one to stand comfortably, but not for the two of them to do so side by side. 

Adam dropped his back and stretched his back. “Oh man. It’s good to be in a proper house.”

“It dulls the sounds of nature,” Jurot said, though Adam wasn’t sure if he meant that positively or negatively. 

Adam was about to remove his helmet, before freezing. “I should probably keep my helmet on.” He didn’t want to worry the villagers, considering that they were one of the closer villages towards White Forest.

“No,” Jurot said. “There is no need. You are here with we Iyrmen.”

Adam looked to Jurot, seeing the look of confidence on his face. “Alright.” Adam took off his helmet and stretched his neck from side to side. He stepped out with Jurot, though kept his shield and weapons at his side. 

“Elf!” a guard exclaimed, readying his spear. His eyes were full of shock and confusion, seeing the half elf beside the Iyrman.

“Only half,” Adam replied back, shaking his head. 

Several horns began to reverberate through the village. “Undead!” called several people, with the villagers growing into a greater panic, heading towards the walls.

Adam raised his brow at the guard, who was staring at the half elf suspiciously still. “Well,” Adam said. “Who do you hate more?”

 

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Adam will one day hear the end of the tale.

I've been wanting to doodle the map some more. I should be writing more, but I can't help it.

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