An Unearthly Tide

Prologue



The child wailed constantly. Breggs was of a good mind to knock some sense into him. Crying like a wench woul not help a thing. And the Creator knew the sky was weeping enough on it's own without the welp's tears added to it.
"Can you shut him up, Weldon?" Breggs demanded of the rider at his back. It was to Weldon's saddle that the boy was tied. A brat of no more than three summers, tall for his age and fiery to the last. Bregg's shins still ached from the boys little boots and old Lollie would sing a little higher in the alehouse tonight. That thought made Breggs chuckle, despite the unceasing downpour and the child's wails.
"Not without cracking him one, boss." Weldon responded. "It's this damned pissing rain, what it is. He's soked plum through."
"Can't be helped." Breggs told him. "He'll be dry enough soon, but like as not the Warlord will give him more reasons to complain."
The warlord would also give the three of them plenty to celebrate. THey had waltzed right in, pretty as you pleased and taken the boy like they were owed him, king's son or not. Not a hitch the hold job, and the Warlord gave rewards almost as quick as he took heads. Yes, he would be well pleased with Breggs and his men. Well pleased.
"What in hel's name is that?" Lollie asked from behind him. He had thought the man lost in thought or at least in groin pains. He certainly sounded alert enough now. Breggs looked ahead on the road where the man pointed. At first he saw only a slight darker darkness, but as he drew closer in was apparent that it was a man. A damn fool man for certain, to stand in the rain on a night like this. But there he was, big as life.
"Gives me the crawlies, he does," Weldon murmured , riding up beside him. "Not natural.
"We'll see." Breggs told him. "Like as not, he's just some beggar that's agone a little crazy from starvation or lonliness."
As they drew nearer, they saw that the man was tall and slender, and he held a long staff like a walking stick. He wore the plain clothing of a woodsman, but it was in good repair and the man seemed to hold himself better than a homeless beggar. There was an air of dignity about him and upon farther review, the rain seeme not to even touch him. He stood alone, seemingly the lord of all he surveyed. Breggs beemed to have a slight case of Weldon's 'crawlies'.
"Hold there." the man called to them as they drew near. He was not old, nor did he look young. He had a smooth face, not overly fair, but not homely. Just a face. But there seemed more behind his plain face.
"Stranger, move aside." Breggs told him with a smile. "Let us get to dry quarters, so you can do the same."
"You may pass." the man replied. "I require only the boy. He goes no farther."
A bolt of alarm went through Breggs at that. Was this a servant of the king then? Out to find the missing prince? If that were the case, others would be nearby.
"I owe no fealty to any king." the man said, as if reading his thoughts. "My purposes are my own. I require the boy. The three of you may go on. If you refuse to give him over, well...."
"Well, what." Breggs asked, his anger rising with his unease. "We are three, you are one, and we require this boy too, so...."
"Three?" the man asked. "You seem to miscount."
Confused, Breggs looked to his back. Weldon and Lollie both slumped in their saddles, darts protruding from their necks. The boy was unharmed and had finally quieted and looked as afraid as Breggs felt. Breggs turned, prepared to draw his sword. He never saw the staff blow that sent him down, reeling into darkness.



1.

Sersha flinched as the door slammed behind her son, hard enough a vase full of half dead flowers danced precariously close to the edge of the table they rested on near the king's bedside. The king himself lay unmoving, with only a slight swelling of his bird thin chest revealing he breathed still. His pale skin and lank hair bore scant resemblace to the hulking warrior she had married.
Sersha fled the sight, following in the wake of her son, knowing he needed his mother now, more than ever. After all, Lirias was all but king now. His people needed to see him strong and steadfast, even now, while his father yet lived. If Lirias could convince them now that he could run the kingdom as well as Argolf had, they would readily except him when his father passed beyond.
The problem was that Sersha wasn't sure Lirias was strong enough. He lacked much of his father's physical prescence and more of his fiery personality. A personality that made wemon love him and men want to follow him. A personality that had for years kept even the mighty Bruscan Empire from turnin it's greedy eyes toward Lochlin for near twenty years.
Lirias loved Lochlin and wanted nothing more than to follow Argolf on the throne. But he was more skilled with prose and poetry than swords and warriors. He was a peacful young man, who had read all there was to read about warefare, but knew nothing of the actual thing. He was every inch her sone, and a far cry from his warrior father.