Brotherhood of the Twisted Iron: Beggars and Gods - Chapter 3

[seymoure]

The Ghost Night

 

The sun sunk beneath the horizon as the quartet entered the Valley of Bane.

“This is where we should set up camp,” Grath said.

“I shall hunt our diner,” Antac announced and walked away.

Grath and Bizjon gathered kindling and firewood.

Mer-am summoned the lightning to light the kindling after they had piled it. The three gathered near the flame to ward off the converging chill.

It was only moments before the return of the swordsman. Normally the archer would be the hunter, but the blind man was so unerring in the tracking of game that none could match him.

He brought several birds and a feger hog. “I had to kill that one for my own survival,” he explained about the pig.

“Its tusks are highly valued among my people,” Bizjon said as he hacked them loose. He cut the slabs of meat from the boar and hung them over the fire. Meri-am used a gesture to summon ghostly hands that plucked and cleaned the birds, then Grath lanced branches through each and put those on the searing blaze.

The giant looked at his companions with fondness. Each of them had saved his life more than once, as had he done for them. Each of them was dismissed by civilization as useless for how they looked or what it was perceived that they could or could not do.

His mind wandered back.

 

 

The warring factions of Vendamont had not drawn back in longer than any man, or most trees, had lived. There were few, if any, farmers among their people but lots of warriors.

Grath’s mother was a prize from distant Paraman where they had been forgers of weapons until they learned the folly of doing what they did and not raising soldiers to guard those same items. Her name was Priah and she never grew beyond a burning hate for Malak, the fighter that stole her from her father’s castle. She had never considered that a baby could withstand the rough travel that the garrison’s march had subjected them too. When she saw the screaming thing she had born she knew it was the God’s punishment for her not killing herself rather than being taken.

Grath was left beside the road after his birth. He was so hideously ugly they were sure he was deformed and would die quickly. He did not.

He was picked up by a traveler who thought that, for a few years of feeding, he would have a prize to sell to the slavers. Slavers are notoriously unconcerned with the monstrosity of with any that could be made to work.

The child had grown at twice the rate any could explain. He was sold when he was 10 and put to hard labor. When he was 13 he killed his owner and set out to kill all slavers everywhere. He grew legend among the ranks of those who traded in human flesh. He still fulfilled that task when it presented itself.

 

 

Bizjon was born to a baker and his wife in Trega, where there were more schools than in any of the 9 kingdoms, for they valued learning nearly as much as beauty.

The child had seemed normal at birth. Happy and loved by his family his lot was one of contentment and comfort. Bakers might not make much gold, but they rarely went hungry.

It wasn’t for 5 years before he ceased to grow. No one thought much of it for another couple of years. Then it became obvious that some curse had been levied against the family.

He was given to a circus by his shamed parents. The owner of the show realized the value of an act that could combine the freak show and the center ring, so that was where the boy learned to use his bow. He became a huge attraction, from as far away as Mulavia, until he chose to lescape on night and strike out on his own.

 

 

Meri-am was born Meni-am Tadearous. There was no more prominent (or rich) family in Sivania’s largest city, Baskerton. She was displayed from the high balcony to the cheers of the rabble beneath. There were receptions at more than one Royal Court in her honor. Soon after she saw few but the wet nurse who would become her nurse for the next year.

On her first day in the company of someone besides her beloved nanny she was discovered to be without hearing or speech. Her father chided the caretaker for having kept the knowledge from the rest. The old woman, Yancia, had kept this secret, knowing that it was a handicap that would send the child into begging or worse. She had gone so far as to mimic a child’s cry in the night.

Yancia was dismissed, but not before she took the child with her. Instead of a search being at once mounted, there was a great relief in the household. Even the mother was convinced that the child would be better off dying with the peasant woman than being seen by the society of their friends.

Between the old woman and the girl they created a language of gestures that later the girl was able to teach her friends. Since those without hearing were usually killed at birth or soon after, there was no formal language for them.

The old woman had gotten her high position with the aid of the mystic arts she had learned from her own mother. Falling back upon that knowledge she began the child’s education in the mystic arts, teaching her to translate spells into hand signs.

 

 

Of all the Brotherhood (who had been called so by a fortune telling Gypsy who foretold their coming in one of the Southern Kingdoms. Because of her predictions they had been warranted for execution should they ever enter any of the 6) only Antac had been born “Normal.” His father died when he was an infant, but his family had great wealth and he wanted for nothing. He had the greatest tutors in music, art and all the alchemic sciences. He understood magick, but had only cursory knowledge.

The boy was golden. None there were who didn’t love him. His presence in the room insured joy for all present.

 

The loss of his sight came as a ghastly surprise to all who had known him.

He had been blinded when a jealous spouse hurled venom in his eyes when he was just 14 summers old. She was unbelieved by all around until, before the majestarte her husband came forward to confess.

The citizenry cast the unseeing boy away, threatening his mother with prison if she in any way helped the abomination that they had so recently adored. She made sure he would not starve for the rest of her life.

It took Antac awhile to forgive himself for his condition. After that he became interested in cultivating ways to become self-supporting. It was a good thing, since his mother was soon to pass from her life of constant tears.

His blade teacher had always known him to be gifted. It took him five years to master his sightless sword. That woman had no idea what she was creating!

He had taken it to his heart that no one who was looked upon as a freak or monster would have no champion from that moment on. He found others who had the same mission. So were the Brotherhood of the Twisted Iron born.

 

Grath and Meri-am met in a castle in distant Kascidia that they both had targeted for looting.

She was liberating priceless spices and icons of sorcerous power.

Grath was taking gold and jewels with no value beyond what they could be bartered for once an nearby village was reached.

It was only her silence that saved her (or him) from conflict. They were able to see that they were compatriot thieves and therefore each allowed the other free passage.

Later the same night they met again in Bashir by the Sea and became friends. She taught him her words, he was happy to have one who would choose to speak to him.

It was in the Forest of Dreppar that the next member of the bad joined.

Meri-am and Grath happened upon and then saved a treed Bizjon. The small archer was being mobbed by an entire town for the sachel of jewels he had liberated from a wealthy merchant. Meri-am cause the image of Grath to be multiplied until it was a gigantic army approaching from the distance.

The three joined forces that night.

Antac came aboard when he happened upon Grath in Shabaz. The giant was in battle with bandits who fought to seize the loot he had been hoping to fence.

There were seven freebooters and, though Grath was a powerful fighter, they had surprised him with his sword not at his side. The merchant had demanded that al weapons be set aside for negotiation. It was unfortunate that the interlopers had not been held to the same standards.

Antac threw the balance of battle away from the horde and was soon walking with the other freaks.

The memories faded as Grath’s mind came back to the circle.

They unfolded their bedrolls and ate their bountiful repast. Then, as they pulled the heavy skins up to sleep, Antac played his psaltery and sang the Ballad of the Ghost Night.

“Never by light could they come to life,

  Only when Death was home and asleep,

  Moaning under the embers of mourning strife,

   While bodies piled up, cold and deep,

   Up come the Spirits to scream in dreams,

   Out come the Ghosts of those killed unfair,

   Reaching in the hearts of the cowards and fiends

   They eat the eyes of those who don’t care,

   Never by light, never by light, never by light,

    Bodies piled cold and deep, cold and deep, cold and deep.

    Sleep if you can, if you can you must sleep,

    Close your eyes, till morning keep.”

 

© C. Wayne Owens
Back to the Beginning
Continue on to Chapter 4