The Birthright, By Joseph Wolfe (Fantasy, part 3 of The Mountain King series, from The Crowned universe).
Missed part 1 or part 2? Click here to read part 1. Click here to read part 2.
8600 words, approx 43 minute read.
Kadin observed the snowmelt in the distance, watching as their way home slowly cleared in the late springtime sun. “I think we are going home without a king, Deltra.”
Deltra wrapped his shoulders in a tan cloak and tied it at the front. “I had been sensing the same thing. What makes you say it?”
Kadin had not thoroughly considered that; it was more of a gut feeling he was putting words to. Beldon was nearly everything he wanted in a king. Swift as a great wolf in battle, a will stronger than Goldenleaf trunks, and a mind sharper than a whittled blade. But he also had a temper, and sometimes thought things through fist first. Kadin respected that, saw himself as a similar kind of thinker.
But maybe not the best trait for a king.
It wasn’t the reason Kadin thought they would return to Fallavon with their tails between their legs. Beldon was loyal to his tribe, another trait Kadin respected. But it meant Beldon would stay.
“He is too attached to his tribe,” he said aloud. “I cannot say I blame him. He has a place here. What we offer is only a chance, one that may get us all killed.”
Deltra crossed his arms. “Perhaps it is for the best. This idea was a longshot to begin with.”
“So you would be satisfied returning unsuccessful? With no clear leader for the dragon clan?”
Deltra glared at him. The reaction surprised Kadin. Deltra had been a bit of a sniveling coward when they first arrived, but he had grown confident, strong. The mountains had been good for him. Kadin brought him along because he was the only one with political experience who was willing to go.
“I did not say that,” Deltra answered.
Kadin was about to answer, but saw Beldon coming out of his tent. Not just Beldon, actually. Many of the Lion Tribe were coming out of their tents, all heading to the large tent in the center of their camp. The tent of elders.
“What is this?” Deltra asked.
Kadin’s answer was to start walking toward the tent of elders. Deltra quickly followed. Beldon was far ahead of them, and when he pulled back the flap to enter, he turned and saw them. He held out his hand palm first, and shook his head.
“Private matter,” Kadin said.
Deltra pointed to a small group of fey gathered just outside the tent to listen in.
Kadin nodded, and they took their place outside and listened.
“You should not have done this, Beldon,” the old fey chieftain’s voice quivered with age, but was not lacking confidence. His wrinkled skin, once a vibrant blue, had faded to a grayish hue with age. “You have toyed with these outsiders long enough. Spring has done its work–the way down the mountain has thawed. Send them away in peace.”
Beldon considered his next words carefully. Sweat beaded on his red skin from the warm fire in the chieftain’s tent, but he dare not wipe his brow and show discomfort. The clan elders were hard feynars, toughened by long winters, endless days of hunting for food during the day and fighting the cold for survival at night.
“You wish to speak?” Chief Mornar asked
Beldon nodded.
“Speak.”
“Elders, please consider my words.”
The elders sat up straighter, but raised their chins in collective defiance, like grown wolves showing a pup who is in charge.
“For many years our tribe has been exiled from the Fey Wilds, given permission to return only once every generation to trade our daughters in exchange for wives for our sons. Indeed the time for our next visit will be soon.”
“We know all this, Beldon,” one of the elders, Rollador, grunted. “You think yourself our teacher, now?”
“I would not see the need, except that you have forgotten that the exile is lifted with my generation. For nine generations, our lineage was to be cast out. The punishment given us by Fah Rellion himself, the great fey king who ascended to the heavens and became god of our people. Since then, the fey have divided themselves into tribe after tribe, and they fight each other for what little land our people have left. The Fey Wilds shrink every year.”
“That is not our concern,” Chief Mornar answered.
For a moment, Beldon thought that was the end of the conversation. But he caught something in Chief Mornar’s eyes, a deep sadness that was not there before.
That was an invitation for Beldon to press, and he took it. “Why not make it our concern?”
The elders chuckled and looked at each other, but Chief Mornar’s eyes lifted.
“Are we to stand idly by and watch our people come to ruin?” Beldon continued.
“They are not our people!” Rellador raised his voice. “Fah Rellion made that clear when he exiled his one and only son, the Great Father, our ancestor!”
“Yes, the Great Wound,” Beldon replied. “Is it not time for that wound to be healed? Since I was a young child, I was taught that the Great Wound was ours alone to bear.”
“You believe the contrary?” Rollador challenged. “Then show me: who else has been exiled by Fah Rellion’s kingdom?”
“No one that I know of.” Rollador looked satisfied, but Beldon continued, “but that is my point. The Great Wound has not only hurt us, but all the other fey. The outsiders have told me of this. They ask for me to return, and be king of the dragon clan.”
Rollador smiled. “If that is what you want, you can leave us, and never return. We will give your blessing to do so, right now.”
“No, I cannot do that without something from you.”
“What is it you want, Beldon?” Chief Mornar asked.
Beldon knew what he said next would be a matter of life or death. “Give me the Birthright.”
The elders gasped.
“The Birthright belongs to the chief!” Rollador shouted. “By asking for it, you have wished death upon him!”
“This is an outrage!” another elder said, motioning for his servant to help him stand so he could better cast condemnation at Beldon.
“Seize him! Put him to death!” another elder joined in.
Two strong feynars rushed Beldon and grabbed him, but the chief had raised his hand and they stopped.
“Quiet!” he barked out. “I never thought I should see such rash behavior from the elders of my tribe. You bring shame upon yourselves.”
The fey who grabbed Beldon slowly backed away.
“Great Chief, certainly we cannot allow Beldon to live after making such a request!” Rollador protested. “He has dishonored you!”
“Then let me deal with him.” The chief locked eyes with Beldon. “Beldon, child of the tenth generation, come close to me.”
The tent was quiet, only Beldon’s footsteps as he approached the chief.
Chief Mornar motioned for servants to help him stand, and they held him steady as he looked Beldon eye to eye. “They are all fools, but you speak true. Fah Rellion himself must be calling you, young one.”
The other elders looked as if someone had spit on them.
“Fah Rellion’s son, the Great Father–there is something you need to know. When I was young, my grandfather was the grandson of the Great Father. I am older than all the others here, and it seems I am the last of those who remember the words the Great Father spoke. So listen to me, Beldon, these are my final words.”
Despite the fire, the air in the tent had a sudden chill. Chief Mornar spoke low, directly to Beldon, but everyone else could hear him.
“The Great Father did not wish for his children to remain in exile forever. That is why, before he was exiled, he asked Fah Rellion for the Birthright. I remember his words as if he were speaking them now: ‘When the time for our exile has come to an end, the Birthright will provide the proof of the rightful king of the fey.’ The Birthright is what Fah Rellion used when the fey traveled across the great ocean to come to this land. It was by the power of the Birthright that the ships were pushed forward across the mighty waves. It was the Birthright that Fah Rellion wielded, when the humans of this land opposed him, and he cut them down. And when the father of the Great Father grew the first Goldenleaf Tree, the Birthright was with him. Tell me, Beldon, does your heart burn within you for home? For the Fey Wilds? Is that why you risked your life and asked for the Birthright.”
All eyes moved to Beldon.
“Yes,” he said. “It is as you say.”
Chief Mornar cleared his throat and addressed the assembly. “We may still be exiles, but our children can return home. Why would we stop them? You think because we have survived this long, that we should continue surviving? Was it not less than two full moons ago we nearly met our end, narrowly saved by the wit and bravery of an outsider?”
The elders looked ashamed.
“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose. The Lion Tribe is coming to its end. It is now in the hands of the generation of this young, brave feynar who stands before me. And if he wishes to return the Birthright to the Fey Wilds, then he shall!”
“But this is not our way!” Rolladar burst out the words.
Another elder joined in, saying, “Only the chief can hold the birthright!”
Chief Mornar nodded. “Then we must choose a new chief. It must be a feynar from the generation freed from exile.” Mornar a hand on Beldon’s shoulder with a strong clap. “I nominate Beldon.”
All the elders stood at that. “But you are chief until death!” one of them protested.
“It is as you say,” Chief Mornar answered. Then he slumped, the feynars at his side holding on to him.
“Bring us a Mender!” one of the elders cried out.
Beldon eyed Rollador, who did not move nor say anything to aid the fallen chief.
The Mender, a feyla named Ranla, rushed over to Chief Mornar, who had been gently laid down on a soft sheepskin. Her hand glowed a faint blue light with Mending power, but when she touched him, nothing happened.
“There is no breath in him,” she announced.
Beldon was stunned. He knew that the Birthright was necessary to prove his lineage, but not the full story behind it. He had no intention of becoming chief when he made his request. He only knew that with the Birthright, his chances would be much better. And it had done no material good for his tribe sitting locked up in the chieftain’s tent.
“You did this!” Rollador pointed a finger at Beldon.
“I did not lay a hand on him!” Beldon fired back.
“I nominate myself as chief!” Rollador called out.
“We cannot defy Mornar’s last act as chieftain,” another elder pointed out. “He said the next chief must come from Beldon’s generation.”
“Then I nominate Darro!” Rollador announced.
That was no surprise to Beldon. Darro was Rollador’s grandson.
“Does anyone else wish to nominate a child of the tenth generation?” Rollador asked.
The other elders looked at each other. Rollador had great political sway, and for his age he was still very healthy and vigorous. He would fight for Darro to be chief.
“I second Beldon’s nomination,” Tryllian, another one of the elders, announced, drawing a hateful glare from Rollador.
By the time the remaining seven elders had given their say, six sided with Rollador, and one other more with Mornar and Tryllian. But that did not mean that Darro would be chief, merely that there were two fey who could become chief. Had the nominations been unanimous, that would be the end of it.
“We have no choice then,” Rollador announced. “Bring Darro into the tent!”
One of the servants ran to fetch Darro, but returned quickly. Darro must have been listening in nearby.
“Beldon, Darro, do either one of you abdicate your nomination as chief?”
Beldon locked eyes with Darro, who smiled back at him with teeth as wicked as the high peaks of the Kaldaran mountain range.
“I do not,” Darro answered.
All eyes turned to Beldon.
“I do not,” Beldon repeated.
“Then it is decided,” Rollador said. “As is our tradition, our new chief will be decided by blood duel.”
Darro reached for his sword, but one of the elders suddenly called out, “Peace, Darro! Mornar is dead, and we must take the moon to mourn his passing. Then, the new chief can be decided. Until then, I propose our interim chief be Rollador.”
Even the two elders who joined in nominating Beldon agreed with that, probably thinking it was inevitable and not worth contesting. Also, it was custom for one moon to pass before a new chief was chosen. Rollador would be chief for one week, then Beldon and Darro would fight.
“I accept,” Rollador said. “As chief, my first action will be to demand the Rite of Honor from Beldon.”
Beldon turned to Rollador, who only smirked back at him. The Rite of Honor was a deed taken to lift shame. Darro completed the Rite of Honor after his lie about Deltra was exposed.
“What shame is Beldon to redeem?” Tryllian asked.
“The shame of asking our former chief for the Birthright. I think it not to be punishment enough, but I will find it satisfactory.”
Beldon seethed and looked to Tryllian for help, but the elder’s sad eyes told him that he did not have enough political strength to fight this decree. It was only him and one other elder on Beldon’s side.
“Let it be so,” Tryllian mumbled.
“Beldon, you are to start your Rite immediately,” Rollador said. “Do not return until you have completed it.”
Beldon bowed. “As you wish,” he breathed out, then turned to leave the tent of the elders.
Outside, Deltra and Kadin stood waiting.
“Beldon, what is the Rite of Honor?” Deltra asked.
“I will explain as we prepare for our journey.”
Kadin stood in front of Beldon to stop him. “Slow down, Beldon! Journey to where?”
Beldon looked back at the elder’s tent and sneered. “To Kaldaran.”
Three wolves with fey riders slowly worked their way down the mountain, the night air growing cold fast. In the distance, fires from Kaldaran illuminated their target.
“Beldon, we are still waiting for a full explanation,” Kadin reminded him. “How about now?”
Beldon took in a deep breath. “I was waiting for my ire to cool.”
“Has it?” Delta asked.
Beldon glared at him. “Remember when Darro had to complete the Rite of Honor, and I told you he would be going away and hopefully not coming back?”
“But he did come back,” Deltra noted.
“Unfortunately,” Beldon said, reaching down to give his great wolf a quick pat of approval. “Darro completed the Rite successfully by going into Kaldaran territory and killing a Kaldaran soldier, bringing back proof of his demise. Now I have been tasked to do the same.”
“So we could have just waited back with the Lion Tribe,” Kadin said.
Beldon glared at Kadin this time, but when Kadin smiled, he smiled too, then laughed. “You had me believing you for a moment.”
“We have come too far to abandon you now,” Kadin said.
“And something tells me we were wise not to stay behind,” Deltra added.
“You are not wrong, friend,” Beldon said. “If you had stayed, I believe Rollador would have sent you back to the Fey Wilds, or worse.”
Deltra scratched his chin. “Worse?”
“I would not put it past him to kill you to make me angry.”
Deltra and Kadin exchanged a glance.
“Do not think ill of my people,” Beldon continued. “We have lived hard lives up here in the cold and barren mountains. Rollador is cunning, but he has earned his place among the elders. I only wish he did not use it against me.”
“What is the Birthright?” Deltra asked.
Beldon looked at him for a moment. “I will show you once I am chief.”
The three continued their ride in silence for a while after that. In between the scattered pines, fires from Kaldaran villages burned bright, a grim reminder of their mission. It would have been much easier to leave during the day, but they needed to leave quickly, and the dark would hide them on their way down the mountain.
When Darro was given his Rite of Honor, he had a full moon to prepare. No doubt Rollador made sure of that. Beldon grabbed whatever supplies he could muster and was off within an hour.
“We need to make camp once we reach the Dragon’s Forest,” Beldon said. “It will be dangerous, as that is Kaldaran hunting grounds, but we still have a way to go.”
“Wait, how far into Kaldaran are we going?” Deltra asked. “Why not raid some farming village, kill some poor Kaldaran bastard, and return?”
“Certainly that is what Darro did,” Beldon said. “But that is too great a risk.”
“How so?” Kadin asked. “Are the farming villages on high alert since Darro’s Rite of Honor?”
“Possibly, but that is not the risk I speak of. We need something from a Kaldaran soldier to prove our mission success.”
“Darro probably brought back a sheepskin,” Kadin joked.
“An iron implement such as a sword is usually acceptable,” Beldon clarified.
“Usually?” Kadin and Deltra said at the same time.
“Rollador has great political sway. If we return with only a sword, he will rouse the elders into calling me a liar and claim that we merely stole it without killing a Kaldaran. We need something better than that.”
“Like the bronze skull?” Deltra pointed out. It was the very item he presented to the tribe to prove he had orchestrated the death of a Kaldaran raiding party.
“Something like that,” Beldon said. “A farming village will not have what we need. We must go deeper into Kaldaran, and we need to move quickly. If I do not return for the fight with Darro, Rollador will claim that we died in Kaldaran, and make Darro chief.”
“What if we return after that?” Kadin asked. “Can you not contest it and fight him then?”
“That is a gray area,” Beldon groaned. “Blood duels have not happened often in our tribe. We are too few to spend time killing our own. With the political power Rollador has, I doubt I will be given the chance to challenge Darro then.”
“Politics,” Kadin muttered.
Deltra smirked at him.
“There, up ahead,” Beldon pointed to a sprawling group of pines in a valley. “The Dragon’s Forest. Let’s push our wolves hard to find a place to camp, then they can rest with us.”
Had the three of them been discovered by Kaldaran hunters, that might have given them the chance to claim an item of value and return. Instead, they slept out in the cold with nothing eventful happening.
Kadin stretched his bones in the morning air, inhaling the smell of the pines around them. It reminded him of the home he had been away from for months, though much, much colder. Something about being in a forest felt right, even if the nearby trees were not goldenleaf. It was still a connection to the fey nature. The human barbarians were known for cutting down entire forests to build their cities and their war machines, an abomination to the fey. Fey grew with the wilds. Cutting down goldenleaf trees would be like killing their own.
Something Kadin was all too familiar with from the clan wars.
He heard Beldon speak of the Fey Wilds shrinking, a truth Kadin was surprised Beldon knew. It was blasphemy to speak such words back in Fallavon. The nobles there tried to keep everyone happy, and all of the propaganda was centered on fey supremacy. If one were to believe the nobles, the fey were stronger than the humans, and the wilds were thriving.
Kadin knew better. His people were dying. He had killed many of them himself.
“Fah Rellion,” he whispered in prayer, “thank you for guiding us to Beldon. Thank you for honoring our search for one of your descendants. Hear us from your place in the Great Wilds. Bless us with your might. And give us the…” Beldon swallowed hard before whispering the next part. “Give us courage. I know I need it now.”
A branch rustled; Kadin spun on his heel and had his sword draw before he saw it was Deltra.
“Something tells me this is not the first time you have wanted to draw on me.”
Kadin sheathed his wooden blade. “I am merely on high alert.”
Deltra nodded. “Beldon should return soon from scouting the way ahead.”
“A waste of time if you ask me,” Kadin grumbled. “But he knows the land better than we do.”
Deltra huffed out a sigh. “Indeed.” They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the occasional growl and whimper of their great wolves as the two beasts played together. “You prayed for courage.”
Kadin looked at him. “What of it? You think me to be a coward?”
Deltra shook his head. “I was actually wondering, will you pray for me too?”
Kadin softened at that. “I will, but why not ask him yourself? You are a fey. He will hear you.”
Deltra shrugged. “I am not the religious type.”
“You might want to start.”
Before Deltra could say more, wolf paws padded nearby. Beldon appeared, and waved for them to follow him.
The two mounted up and followed. Deltra, I have prayed for you. You just do not know it.
The next two days and well into the third, they skirted around Kaldaran farms, pushing deeper and deeper into the barbarian kingdom. Beldon insisted that they could reach a Kaldaran altar by nightfall, and with any luck, they would find a priest there. Even a low ranking priest would carry a relic of Kaldaran importance, and that would suffice.
Deltra wished they could have kept that bronze skull and tried to pass that off as a separate skull they found, but the elders had tossed it into the ravine the following day. Besides, something told him Beldon would not accept the deceit. The feynar still clung to his sense of honor. Deltra had not completely abandoned the idea, but he had seen the ways of feynar nobles, and he had been part of plots that amounted to webs of many lies. It was part of doing business, serving the noblefey in whatever way they needed to try and gain an edge over their political opponents.
Provided that Beldon did come back with them, then it was good that the future king have a strong sense of honor. He needed to stand out amongst the nobles. He needed to believe in the ideals. But he would also need someone at his side who did not have such honor, who could do what was necessary when the rules of honor were used against them. Deltra had the strong feeling that should they overcome the odds and put Beldon on the throne, it would not be Kadin doing the king’s dirty work.
It would be him.
The thought was nagging him. He had come seeking a strong king, someone who could take territory for the dragon clan. He had a hard time imagining anyone succeeded without some treachery. Can Beldon play the political game? Would I want him to be king if he could?
Publicly, the fey noblemen denounced actions like lying, thievery, and assassinations. But Deltra knew the truth, the truth that not even Kadin knew. Kadin probably would draw on him in earnest if he knew that more than once, Delta had plunged a dagger into fey flesh.
That is the reason Fah Rellion will not hear my prayers, Kadin, he thought. Too much…too much cold blood on my hands already.
Beldon breathed out a puff of cold breath. They made it, and the night was still young. They had just enough time if they succeeded tonight and raced back to the Lion Tribe. In the distance, no more than five hundred paces, the Kaldaran altar of polished stone reflected in the moonlight.
“Look!” Beldon whispered. Several Kaldarans stood around the altar, the sound of their dark incantations barely heard over the wind. “They must have a priest, and that priest must have an artifact. It is their way.”
“Good. What is the plan?” Kadin asked.
“Move in closer. Wait until they finish, then pick one of them off as they return to their homes. Find the priest alone and kill him, then escape into the dark before they know what is happening.”
Kadin nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
They moved as one to a grouping of rocks not far from the altar, roughly a hundred paces now. The words the Kaldarans sang sent chills up Beldon’s spine. Songs about the god of chaos, and pleasing him with an offering of a soul. Beldon waited to see what poor soul was being offered to the wicked god.
Seconds later, a feynar bound in chains was pushed forward onto the altar.
“A fey!” Deltra said.
“From your tribe?” Beldon asked.
Deltra watched for a few seconds. “Not likely…”
Beldon looked over at Kadin, who was also watching the ritual.
“Actually…wait…yes. That feynar is from one of the outlying villages, but he comes to Fallavon now and again with taxes. He is one of ours.”
Beldon felt a surge of adrenicka rushing through his veins. “Then he is one of mine!”
Deltra watched as Beldon suddenly rushed his wolf forward towards the Kaldarans in a mad, headlong charge.
“Who does he think he is?” Deltra hissed.
Kadin looked at Deltra, a burning fury in his eyes. “The king of the dragon clan!” Kadin charged his wolf forward as well.
Deltra felt the adrenicka rising in his blood. He drew his sword and ordered his wolf forward. “For the king!”
The Kaldarans were slow to see Beldon charging them, waking up out of whatever evil trance they had sunk themselves into. By the time they grabbed their weapons, Beldon was there, swinging so hard he broke one of his swords on a Kaldaran’s skull. He tossed the useless half and drew another one to replace it.
Delta and Kadin were close behind, but too slow to catch the Kaldarans off guard. They met with steel, and maneuvered their wolves around to avoid losing them to a spear.
“Fey! More sacrifices for Kaldar!” one of the Kaldarans called out.
Beldon made him out at the priest. Chain mail glittered from under his robe in the torchlight, and if that wasn’t enough, a wicked glint in his eyes spoke of one who was well connected with the god of chaos.
Beldon jumped off his wolf and loosed it to kill Kaldarans while he attacked the priest. The man had a broadsword and knew how to use it. His coat of mail and thick robe meant Beldon needed to find a weak spot to get through and land the killing blow. His first move was a thrust to the face, but the priest sidestepped and brought his sword around for a strike. Beldon sidestepped the other way and brought his sword down to cover that side. Steel cut into his blade; the priest pulled hard and disarmed Beldon, but Beldon had two more swords still and drew another one. Beldon brought his weapon around to strike at the Kaldaran’s hand, and he connected but the blade slipped off the thick leather glove the priest was wearing. The priest grunted, but still had command of his sword. Just a bruise! Beldon cursed.
All around him, Kaldarans fought with wolves and Deltra and Kadin. His two fey companions kept the Kaldarans off of closing in on him, but the priest alone was a tough match.
“Your god is dead!” the priest shouted to Beldon. “Kaldar killed Fah Rellion long ago; what chance do you have?” The priest’s weapon glowed a bright orange–Beldon couldn’t get his blade away in time and the magic-enhanced weapon cut clean through his own. He drew his last blade.
“Coward!” Beldon roared, adrenicka giving his voice a dark echo, reverberating with power. “Hiding behind a suit of armor!”
The priest only laughed.
Beldon felt a surge of rage. He thrust towards that laughing face–the Kaldaran priest collected his sword with his and countered with a thrust of his own. Beldon lifted his sword to push the blade away from his face. The Kaldaran priest stepped forward, pushing Beldon’s sword elbow with his hand, disabling a counter. Beldon cried out and fell backward to avoid the cut.
“Beldon!” Kadin roared.
The priest moved in to finish Beldon, but was suddenly pulled back. The fey prisoner had wrapped his chain around the priest’s neck, pulling it tight. The feynar roared in pain, triumph, and rage as the metal pressed into his wrists, burning them as strong as any fire.
Beldon stood and shoved his sword into the priest’s mouth, sending it through the other side. The priest dropped dead, dragging the feynar down with him.
The other Kaldarans were either dead or ran off; it was just the fey now. Beldon grabbed an empty waterskin and undid the chain wrapped around the priest’s neck to free his fey brother from the pressure on his wrists.
“Deltra! We need to get these shackles off!” Kadin searched the priest’s body for a key.
Deltra rushed over and froze. “It’s too late.”
Beldon looked to the feynar, who was moaning in agony. His skin had turned from green to nearly black.
“What?” Beldon breathed.
“Iron poisoning,” Deltra said.
Beldon looked to Kadin. Kadin closed his eyes and nodded.
Beldon cradled the dying feynar’s head in his hands. “I am so sorry, my brother.”
“Who…who are you?” he asked. “There are no fey here. Only human scum.”
“My name is Beldon. I am king of the dragon clan.”
In sprite of it all, the feynar…smiled. A smile twisted by pain and poison, but a smile. “I…I prayed to Fah Rellion last night. I prayed that he would let me serve my king one…one last time.”
The feynar’s head suddenly twisted as he coughed. Blood sprayed out from his lungs, his mouth. Then he collapsed.
Beldon closed his eyes and fought back tears. He pounded his fist into the ground, a pain he would feel tomorrow. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Kadin standing there.
“We are not safe here,” Kadin said in a soft voice. “We cannot give him a proper burial. But we have fulfilled his dying wish.”
“It is not right to leave him here!” Beldon fired back.
“Beldon, please,” Kadin continued. “Take what you need from the priest, and we must go. Deltra is mending the wolves. We are running out of time.”
Beldon took a deep breath and fought back his anger. “Yes. You are right.” He reached down at the priest’s belt. A skull of iron. He grabbed it with the waterskin. “There is still more work to do. Darro will be waiting.”
Kadin gave Beldon’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Then we will show him what the king of the dragon clan is made of.”
Bruised and exhausted, the return trip to the Lion Tribe was worse than the trip to Kaldaran. Beldon drove them hard on the most direct route. It was a risk; many legs of the journey took them through open fields in broad daylight. Once they neared the mountain, the forests hid them, but it was uphill from there. They took short breaks for sleep so the wolves could get a rest.
It was dusk of the final day when they crested the last ridge, the flapping of the Lion Tribe tents visible and audible in the distance. Beldon reached a hand down to the bottom of his wolf’s neck. The beast was exhausted, possibly near death.
“Just a little further,” he said with a pat of approval.
They rode a gentle pace into the tribal camp; the fey of the Lion Tribe slowly exited their tents as whispers that Beldon returned filled the air in a steady hush.
It didn’t take long for Rollador to be one of those to come greet him. The fey chief’s expression was sour, and even more so when he saw Beldon.
“You have returned so soon, Beldon,” he called out. “You must mean to trick us into thinking you have completed the rite of honor.”
Beldon reached for the skull, but Deltra’s hand on his arm suddenly stopped him.
“Call for the other elders. Make sure there are witnesses.”
Beldon was too tired to smile, but Deltra was right. “Chief Rollador, I call on the elders to witness this, that I have completed the rite of honor.”
Rollador’s eyes narrowed. “The hour is getting late, and the elders are tired. Do not disturb them.
“They will need to witness the blood duel, will they not? Rouse them now.”
Rollador’s expression softened at that.
“He is up to something,” Deltra mumbled.
“As you wish, Beldon.” Rollador turned his servant next to him and gave a nod. The feynar produced a small ram’s horn and gently trumpeted out a few low notes.
The minutes passed by with one elder after another slowly coming out to see why they had been summoned. Feylas went to and fro the camp to light torches. That was a rare occurrence–there was always the risk of Kaldaran seeing them. But this was a rare night.
“We are all here, Beldon,” Chief Rollador said. “This better be worth it.”
Beldon gave Deltra a brief glance; Deltra nodded back. He grabbed the water skin that held the small iron skull, and let it unravel, dropping the skull to the ground.
Rollador looked furious.
“Undeniable proof he has completed the rite of honor,” Tryllian announced. “We must restore him now.”
All the other elders agreed, and when they did, Chief Rollador announced, “Beldon has completed the rite of honor. He is restored in my eyes.”
“You honor me,” Beldon replied in a low voice.
“But there is more to be done tonight,” Chief Rollador continued. “The blood duel, to determine who is the new Chief of the Lion Tribe. Darro, come forward.”
“Give me your swords!” Beldon hissed to Deltra and Kadin. “Quickly!”
Deltra and Kadin handed over what they had left, four swords in total. Beldon slotted them into empty leather rings.
Darro stepped out of his tent, looking rather refreshed and ready for the blood duel. Beldon’s eyelids felt like they were attached to the iron skull he dropped.
“Before we begin the blood duel, I have one final act as chief,” Rollador said. “Bring me the Birthright.”
“What is the Birthright?” Kadin asked.
“Only the chiefs have seen it,” Beldon answered.
Within a minute, two feynars brought out a wooden chest, long and narrow in shape, hinged and decorated with gold, the only metal fey could touch. Beldon had never seen gold before, but he heard the rumors when he was a child. The chieftain had a chest of gold. Of course, Beldon thought it meant there was gold in the chest.
“It is my right as chief to do as I see fit with the Birthright,” Rollador announced. He turned to the chest and opened it. Many gasped, even some of the elders.
Beldon felt his heart pounding as Rollador pulled out two long pieces of what looked like green leather. Beldon had never seen such material before. They seemed to glow in the torch light.
“They are swords!” Kadin whispered.
Beldon did not understand until Rollador turned around, the hilt of two blades shining at the end of the leather skins.
“Darro, come to me.”
Darro approached his grandfather and bowed low.
“The Birthright is yours to use for the blood duel.”
“This is a sacrilege!” Tryllian shouted. “You cannot do this, Rollador!”
“Is it not my right as Chief?” Rollador rounded on Tryllian. “Be silent, Tryllian! Or I will make you complete a rite of honor as well!”
Tryllian’s aged hands bundled into fist and shook with rage. Many of the other elders, the ones who had given their say for Darro to be chief, held their eyes low, downcast.
“Take them, grandson,” Rollador said.
Darro grabbed the first blade, and pulled it from its sheath. Beldon felt a subtle hum of power in the air. The wind suddenly picked up, the diamond in the hilt of the blade held the power of the winds.
Darro grabbed the second blade and pulled it. A perfect twin of the other, but it held a stark blue sapphire. The wind stirred a little more, and the clouds, still visible in the fading sunlight, turned a shade dark.
Beldon quickly unsheathed two of his wooden blades and prepared himself, adrenicka rising in his blood, feeding off of his fear.
Rollador raised his hand. “The only weapons allowed are those now in the circle. The blood duel ends when one of you is dead. Any feynar who breaks the holy circle by running into it must die. Let the blood duel begin.”
Darro snapped forward with the word and was on Beldon so fast it was like fighting a demon rather than a fey. Darro was a strong swordsfeynar, but never better than Beldon. But the feynar fighting him now was a different beast. Darro struck with speed and agility, wielding both weapons with the skill of wielding one. Beldon only kept up because every time he would parry one of Darro’s strikes, the steel blade would stick into the wooden fey blade for a second, buying Beldon just enough time to make his next move.
Fah Rellion! Father of the Great Father! Please help me!
Kadin watched the duel with a stone in his stomach. This was unwinnable for Beldon. He was the better fighter, but Darro had real weapons. Not just human steel, but enchanted steel, the best blades in all the world.
Fah Rellion, we have come this far. Give us our king.
Deltra wished he could do something to help Beldon as he struggled to stay alive. Darro was not only better equipped, but rested. They probably did not expect Beldon to return in time, but Darro had been ready regardless.
He thought through his own life, all the political games he played, the cloak and dagger treachery he had been part of. Fah Rellion, if you are to punish me for my wrongs, then punish me! Do not hold it against Beldon!
Two of Beldon’s blades had been destroyed, and if he lost a third, it was over. There was no way to defend himself with just one. He had already taken a few shallow cuts and landed nothing on Darro.
“Surrender and die, Beldon!” Darro called out. “I will give you a quick death!”
Darro slowly advanced. Beldon backed up, trying to buy time to think of a plan of attack. Everything he tried so far had failed. Black blood dripped from the cuts he had taken. Adrenicka roared inside him, but the same magic was in Darro’s veins. There is nothing I can do against the Birthright. Fah Rellion must be angry with me. He has given me to death.
Darro must have noticed Beldon’s stall, because he lunged, bringing both blades to bear. Beldon backstepped, but with a loud crack, his third blade was broken, and the hilt ripped from his hand.
But when he backstepped, Beldon felt something under his bare foot. It hurt. It burned. It burned…like iron.
Beldon threw his last sword at Darro–who deflected it like a twig. But that was not Beldon’s attack; that was to buy him a precious second to reach down and pick up the iron skull he had stepped on. His hand burned in agony from the touch, but with everything he had left in him, Beldon threw the iron skull. It struck Darro in the forehead with a loud crack. Darro’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell.
“No!” Rollador shouted.
Beldon raced forward, grabbed one of the Birthright blades, and raised it to thrust through Darro’s heart and make sure he was dead.
“No!” Rolladar screamed. “Stop!”
One of the feynar servants held up the skull with a piece of cloth. “It was the Kaldaran artifact!” he announced.
“You have dishonored the blood duel!” Rollador shouted. “This is murder! You cannot use that cursed iron as a weapon! I sentence you to death, Beldon!”
Rollador grabbed a wooden sword and charged. Beldon stopped what he was doing and raised the half of the Birthright, ready to defend himself, but the elders who could walk swarmed Rollador to stop him.
“The iron was in the circle,” one elder said.
“He has not broken the rules,” another confirmed. “You have broken them by rushing in before the end!”
“That means, you must die Rollador!” another elder added.
Beldon knelt next to Darro for a closer look. “Leave him be!” he called out. “Rollador did not break the sacred ring. Darro is already dead. I am your chief now.”
Rollador collapsed to his knees and covered his face with his hands, but it did little to mask the sound as he wailed into the night.
Beldon grabbed the other blade and stood, his legs shook with effort as the adrenicka started to fade. “I, Beldon, am your chief now, chief of the Lion Tribe! And with great sorrow and great courage I tell you, my people, descendants of the Great Father, that our time in exile has come to end. No longer will we live as nomads and peasants in the mountains of Kaldar. No longer will our name be a byword, and a disgrace amongst the fey of the wilds! With this Birthright, we shall become kings and lords of all fey one again! And to those who are of my generation, I give you this one chance: come with me to the fey wilds! Should you accept, be prepared to leave with me when the sun crests the peak of the mountain.
“But to those of my generation who do not want to come, this is your only chance. If you think in your heart, ‘I will finish my business and say my goodbyes, and come the next moon,’ do not bother! You will follow me now, or not at all.”
The Lion Tribe fey murmured amongst themselves at that.
“Bring me the sheaths for the Birthright, and a cloth fitting to clean my blood off them.”
The fey servants who had brought the Birthright out hurried to bring the golden chest and sheaths to Beldon, and a clean, soft cloth spun from wool. Beldon wiped the little blood off of them, then sheathed them and put them away.
“I am not to be disturbed until the morning,” Beldon said as he turned toward Kadin and Deltra. “Friends, follow me.”
Kadin and Deltra both looked stunned; it took them a moment to fall in line and follow Beldon back to his tent.
Once inside, Beldon felt his legs finally give out, and he tumbled down onto his bed of furs.
“Beldon!” Kadin and Deltra both said, kneeling down next to him.
“Relax, my friends. I am weak from the hard travel and the battle, but I will recover.” Beldon pulled up his palm to look at the damage done from the iron skull. His skin was bubbling and itched, and the stinging pain lingered. “Deltra, inside the chest with my belongings, there is a small glass jar with some balm. Bring it to me.”
Deltra obeyed and retrieved the glass jar. Beldon pulled the cork from it with his uninjured hand and rubbed some of the cream on his blistering hand and foot.
“Do you think some of your tribesfey will join us tomorrow?” Kadin asked.
“I doubt a single one will come. My tribe is bound together by generations of hard living. The bond which held us together cannot be broken simply with a speech.”
“Speeches can be rather effective from time to time,” Deltra said.
“Spare me the kindness, Deltra. I am ready to go to your dragon clan and claim my place as king.”
Beldon chuckled. “Maybe after a night’s rest.”
The following morning, Deltra and Kadin were awake early, making preparations for the journey. Plenty of food needed to be packed, and the wolves needed proper grooming as they would not have a chance again until they reached Fallavon.
Deltra pulled back the tent flap and laughed.
“What is so funny?” Kadin asked.
“I think Beldon will have a pleasant surprise this morning.”
A beam of sunlight peeking through the crack in the tent flap and awakened Beldon. His bones felt old, and ached as he pushed himself to stand up. Today, he would leave everything he ever knew behind.
Perhaps it is best that my family is all dead, Beldon thought. He was an only child. His mother died giving birth to him, and his father was killed by Kaldarans long ago. He had grown up with a strong connection to his grandfather, who was one of the tribe elders until age took him as well.
Beldon tried to sort his belongings, but his mind was still foggy with sleep. I will have Kadin and Deltra assist me.
He put on extra furs and pulled back his tent flap. “What is this?” he said to himself, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision. A caravan of fey awaited outside, with fey running to and fro, making preparations for the journey.
Beldon approached them, and they all stopped what they were doing to bow to him.
“You all wish to join me?”
The fey looked at each other, not sure who should answer. Finally, one of them, a feynar child, said, “we do, chief.”
Beldon chuckled. “Brave child, you are. I honor you.”
The young feynar smiled for a moment, before his father nudged him, and he said, “Yes, I receive this honor.”
Kadin and Deltra appeared from their tent and joined in loading up their wolves.
“Good to see you well, your majesty!” Kadin bellowed out.
Majesty? Beldon thought. What a strange word. But I rather like it.
“Deltra, go pack his majesty’s belongings.”
“Me?” Deltra protested, then locked eyes with Beldon and said, “I mean, if his majesty wishes it…”
“I do.”
Deltra gave a quick bow and was off to Beldon’s tent.
“Enjoy it while you can, your majesty,” Kadin said. “I fear that I will have to stop giving you your proper title for a time when we reach the Fey Wilds. There is much work to do to get you to your rightful place on the throne, and we cannot reveal our plans to the other fey so quickly.”
“But I have the Birthright.”
“Yes, but I do not know if anyone from our clan knows of it. Deltra will research it the moment we return. When the time is right, we will announce you as king, and you may need to use the Birthright as more than just a symbol.”
“But they know of my tribe’s exile? They mention it every time my kind has returned to the Fey Wilds.”
“Unfortunately yes, that part of your history has stuck around. At the very least, so has the part that indicates the exile is lifted with your generation. Do not worry about those things, for now. Delta and I have a plan.”
Beldon crossed his arms. “Is your plan to figure it out a plan along the way back?”
Kadin looked like he was suppressing a wide grin. “Perhaps.”
Beldon laughed and gave Kadin a firm pat on the back.
A few of the tribe elders approached them, including Tryllian. He had a few satchels that looked weighted down with belongings.
“Tryllian!” Beldon called out, and walked over to give him a firm embrace. “Respected elder, I fear you cannot come with me. The exile…well…”
Tryllian held up a hand. “Please, chief, do not fret. I am not coming with you. These are the last of what belongs to the chief, so they are yours. Do not bother to look through them now, but I do want to bring one item to your attention.” Tryllian set the satchels down, then reached inside one and pulled out a leather scroll. He untied the string and let it furl towards the ground. “All of our tribe’s ancestry is on this scroll. As you can see, we drew on both sides. A testament to our long line of survival.”
Beldon grabbed the scroll and looked at it. It took him a minute, but he saw the name of his parents, and a small dash, then his name below.
“This is an incredible gift, Tryllian.”
“It is not a gift; it is rightfully yours. Take it so you never forget the history of our people, and the Great Father.”
Beldon nodded and examined it further. Fresh ink indicated the end of Darro. “I see you have already updated this.”
“Yes, early this morning, to ensure accuracy. We also had one of our own work through the night to make a copy. For those who…”
“Who choose to stay behind. Tryllian, what is this?” Beldon pointed to a line that split off from the Great Father himself. “This lineage looks incomplete.”
Tryllian looked around, then waived for Beldon to follow him several steps away. “My apologies chief, but this is a bit of a secret amongst our people. We have reason to believe the Great Father had…a dalliance with a human woman. One that resulted in a child.”
“Is that why the name is written as Unknown?”
Tryllian nodded. “It is a bit of a shame upon our people, but we did not want to lose anything relating to the Great Father.”
“How do you know this is true, then? Do you know who the woman was?”
“We do not, but we have written, sworn testimony from one of the second generation elders that the Great Father spoke of it on his deathbed. Perhaps, someday, Fah Rellion will see fit to reunite you with more of his descendants.”
“Should that happen, I might never even realize it. But I will pay attention for it nonetheless.”
“Your majesty!” Deltra called out. “We are ready!”
“Go, Chief Beldon,” Tryllian said. “Go with my blessing.”
Beldon pulled the old feynar in for one last embrace. “Thank you, Tryllian.”
“And keep an eye on my grandson and his wife. They are going with you.”
“I will protect them, I swear it.”
Tryllian smiled. “Thank you.”
Beldon rolled up the scroll and added it to his belongings, then moved to take his place at the front of the caravan. Before he started the ride, he turned his wolf around to look at his people. He quickly counted three dozen in all.
“My people, descendants of the Great Father, and my two good friends, once Outsiders, but now no longer, the time has come! Let us go home!”
