The Eighth Warden Ch 001 002

Author's Note: In a world of swords, sorcery, and beautiful women, one young warrior-mage tries to forge his own destiny while dealing with a fate not of his choosing. Join Corec and his friends as they discover truths about themselves and the world they live in.

This story is sort of a harem fantasy, but while some characters will have sex, I don't currently plan to include explicit scenes. I want to focus my writing on the story itself.

Chapter 1

Twenty-eight years earlier...

The fox jumped down from the low stone wall behind the compound, peering around to make sure nobody saw him. The grounds were kept neat and tidy to impress visitors, with short green grass and only a few shrubs, so he darted quickly across the lawn and hid behind a rain barrel that stood near a door. He paused to sniff the air as the smell of something cooking wafted from the kitchen.

The door suddenly swung open with a crash, bouncing off the side of the barrel. A young girl came out with a wooden bucket and tentatively dipped it in the water. The fox crouched down, avoiding her sight.

"Milly! What have I told you about the door?" The voice came from inside the building.

The girl yelled back, "Sorry, Sister Kana!"

"Hurry up with that water!"

"There are dead bugs in it!"

An older woman joined the girl. "You're just washing the mud room, girl. It's not like you have to drink it. Give me that." The woman took the bucket and plunged it into the water to fill it, then handed it back to the girl. "Now, go help Celia with the cleaning before the Prince's party gets here. The older girls are too busy getting ready. Don't run and get water all over the place!"

The fox followed the two into the building, making it inside before the door swung closed on his bushy red tail. No other people were around, so he began exploring, following his nose and ears. He avoided the front of the building, where most of the noise was coming from, and paused regretfully at the entrance to the kitchen before continuing on his way.

As he reached a new wing of the building, he was almost taken by surprise when two older girls turned the corner.

"I don't know why

we

have to get ready. Everybody knows the Prince is going to pick Moira."

"Not necessarily," the second girl replied. "Maybe he doesn't like blondes."

The first girl, a blonde, glowered back at her at they entered another room and shut the door behind them.

The fox continued down the new corridor until he reached a room at the far end. Nudging the door open, he sneaked in. There was another girl inside, facing away from the door while she stared at herself in a mirror. She wore a nightgown, and was counting out the strokes as she brushed her blonde hair.

The fox crept over to a small writing desk that stood against one wall. The chair had been pushed over to the side, and held a clean white dress in a neatly folded pile on the seat. He leaned his body against the legs of the chair to push it up against the side of the desk, stopping every so often to make sure the girl hadn't heard him. When he had it where he wanted it, he leapt up onto the chair and then to the desk, which held a half-finished letter, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink that hadn't been stoppered.

Sniffing the ink, he nudged the bottle with his nose until it reached the side of the desk and fell off. It landed on the dress with a quiet

whuff

, the black ink pouring out. The fox jumped down from the desk and hid under the bed just as a woman entered the room.

"Moira! What did you do to your presentation dress?"

"What? Sister Bela—" The girl turned to her dress, shrieking when she saw the puddle of ink. "No. No! I can clean it!" She grabbed the dress to scrub at the stain with the nightgown she wore, knocking the bottle of ink to the floor in the process.

"You're just making it worse," the woman said. "Why didn't you leave it hanging up?"

Moira started crying as she gave up trying to clean it. "What do I do now?"

"I'll help you start a new one tonight, but for now, you should stay here. I need to gather the other girls for the Presentation. The Prince's carriage has arrived."

"Please, Bela! Please let me go!"

"How? We're beginning the ceremony now. Even if we managed to find a spare presentation dress lying around somewhere, there wouldn't be time to clean it and alter it to fit you."

"I can wear a different dress!" the girl said desperately. "A regular one!"

The fox tensed as the woman appeared to waver.

Finally, Bela sighed and said, "No, Moira. I'm sorry. We held you back from other Presentations just so you could be here today, and now you'll miss this one due to your own carelessness. We have standards to maintain, and I can't break the rules for you."

The girl collapsed onto her bed, unable to form a reply.

"Please stay in your room until the ceremony's over," Bela said. "Don't disrupt things for the other girls."

As the woman left the room, the fox followed her.

#

What have you done, Fox? You're not allowed to interfere!

Fox had been expecting to hear that voice in his head, though maybe not this soon.

I am not one of you, Lady. I don't play your games.

It is

not

a game, and your tricks have gone too far this time! Everything I've been working for is lost. You've ruined it!

Have I, Lady? Did you really want the life for her that she would have faced with the Prince?

Her role is necessary.

There was a pause.

Was necessary. What will we do now?

Sometimes you must lose the battle to win the war.

What? What does that mean? Fox, speak to me! Tell me what you mean!

But Fox had stopped listening. That wonderful smell from the kitchen had drifted past again, and he decided to go see what it was.

#

Five days later, a carriage came to a halt in front of the compound.

Lord Ansel, Baron of House Tarwen, turned to his wife. "Are you certain you wish to do this?" He and Isabel had only been married for six months, and seeking out a concubine this early seemed like a bad omen. While concubines provided more than just companionship, their training in languages and etiquette was more in demand among the nobles and rich merchants in the city. Country lords had less need for those skills.

"Yes, love," Isabel said. "You are gone much of the day, and Lady Tammerly is only interested in discussing the current crop of potatoes. My only friends on your estate are Magda and Cook, and they're not interested in discussing art or literature."

Ansel nodded. The Tarwen lands were in a remote valley deep in the Black Crow Mountains, on the eastern edge of the kingdom. He'd first met Isabel in the capital, Telfort, back when he'd been sent to the city during the winters to represent the family. He'd been forced to stop wooing her three years earlier when his father had passed away. Ansel had returned home to take over, but he'd hoped to return to ask for her hand. When he hadn't had a chance to make the long trip in the next two years, he'd sent letters to both Isabel and her father. To his relief, he'd discovered that Isabel hadn't yet married, and they were willing to listen to his suit. While he'd mentioned to Isabel how remote his family's lands were back when they'd first met, he knew that experiencing it for herself had come as a shock. She'd held up well, though, and he was willing to do this if she wanted it.

He helped his wife from the carriage and turned to face the woman who'd come out of the main building to greet them.

"Good afternoon, my lord. I am Sister Bela. Welcome to the Highfell chapter house of the Three Orders. How may I help you?" Highfell was the westernmost location of the Three Orders, and was the only chapter house that fell within the kingdom's borders. The Orders were more common on the eastern half of the continent. While the kingdom had its own organizations for training concubines, the Three Orders had a better reputation. Plus, Highfell was the nearest option to Ansel's own lands.

He introduced himself and his wife, then explained their situation. He didn't think the remoteness of his lands would be a problem, since Highfell was similarly remote, but he mentioned it anyway. He finished with, "And so, we would like someone to keep Isabel company."

Sister Bela smiled. "We're happy to do a full Presentation ceremony if you'd like, but if you don't mind me saying so, I think I know just the girl."

###

Chapter 2

Present day...

The atmosphere in the roadside tavern was heavy with anticipation, people eager for the chance to see two actual bards perform. Traveling minstrels sometimes played at inns and taverns, but bards were rare, their services usually in demand by the well-to-do.

Corec watched as the bards got ready. One of them was an old man with a well-trimmed beard and mustache, but it was the other that caught Corec's eyes—a young woman with curly red hair down to her shoulders, wearing a fine blue dress that revealed just a hint of cleavage. She wasn't quite as polished with her flute as the old man was on his gittern, but her eyes danced along with the music as she looked over the crowd.

The pair started off with a sea shanty, which was traditional this close to the eastern port city of Tyrsall. The man sang while he played, his weathered voice a good fit for the song, while the girl accompanied him in the background. The next song was about the glory of Pallisur, which made Corec's lips tighten. He'd enjoyed the song when he was younger, so he forced himself listen to the music rather than the words.

It took him a few minutes to realize something was missing. The old man was a good musician, but being a musician didn't make someone a bard. A bard could allow their listeners to feel the music, or sometimes even show them visions of a song or a story. Nobody else seemed to notice anything wrong, but then, it was possible nobody else in the room had met a real bard before.

Corec's questions were answered a moment later when the two musicians switched positions. The girl set her flute down and picked up a small harp, accompanying herself as she sang a ballad about the wife of a fisherman who was late returning from the sea. The feelings of worry and loneliness washed over the crowd in time with the music. Corec wasn't surprised when her second song was a much happier one, to bring everyone's mood up.

The girl was the bard, then. He stared at her more closely—she was beautiful, with green eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. Why was she traveling with the old man? At first, Corec had thought the man was her teacher, but if she was a bard, shouldn't she be learning from another bard? Were the two of them together? The thought made his skin crawl, which caused his arm to itch.

During the girl's second song, the old man made his way around the room, quietly greeting the patrons, patting them on the back and telling jokes. With some people, he moved on quickly, while with others, he waited to receive a small coin or two as a tip. He avoided the group of armed caravan guards until Corec held up a silver coin between two fingers.

"Thank you kindly," the old man said, ducking his head and taking the coin, but not staying to chat. Corec frowned when none of the other guards offered a tip.

After the girl's second song, the two musicians switched positions again. Although she was sitting in back again, Corec still watched her. She wrinkled her nose cutely as if trying to hold back a sneeze, then during a break in the flute playing, rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. It reminded Corec of his itching arm, but he was still wearing his armor so he couldn't do anything about it.

At the next break, the caravan master, Jak, came up to Corec's table with several other men behind him. "All right, you lot. It's our turn."

One of the men sitting nearby grumbled. "Why can't we stay? The cooks and drivers are all here."

"Because it's not the cooks' or drivers' job to guard the wagons. We agreed, three shifts of an hour each, and your hour is up."

Normally, the guards weren't allowed away from the wagons at all, but this little village was close enough to Tyrsall that it was a regular nighttime stopover, and the Senshall trading house had built a large warehouse with room enough for an entire caravan. With the extra protection of walls, the guards could work in shifts. It was unlikely that anyone would attack a caravan this close to Tyrsall, warehouse or no warehouse, but it was Jak's responsibility if anyone did.

With a little more grumbling, the men around Corec stood up. He grabbed his large, sheathed greatsword from where it was leaning against the wall behind him, and followed his group out of the tavern as the new men took their seats.

#

"Here you go, son," Jak said as he paid Corec his share for the final leg of the journey. "Twenty-one days, sixty-three silver."

"Why's he get so much?" Baro, one of the other guards, asked in a surly tone.

"Specialist pay," Jak said curtly.

"He ain't no archer!"

"No, but he actually knows how to fight, unlike the rest of you lot. And guardsmen with a full suit of heavy armor and their own horse don't come cheap."

Corec looked at the silver coins overflowing his cupped hand. "Thanks, Jak. Do you have a gold piece in there I could exchange some of this for?"

"Hah, no. You lot spend your pay so fast, nobody wants gold because you'd just have to get it changed again before you could hit a tavern."

That might be true for some of the others, but Corec was trying to save his money. He'd have to carry around an extra pouch full of silver until he could find a money changer. There was a moneylender back in Four Roads that he trusted to hold on to his savings, but he was wary of using any services like that in a city as large as Tyrsall.

"Any other caravans leaving soon?" he asked.

"From us, just the weekly to High Cove. Two weeks till the next trip back to Four Roads."

"The High Cove run isn't hiring, last I checked," Corec said. "They have a regular crew."

"So wait two weeks, then, or check with one of the other houses."

As Corec walked back to the noisy area where the rest of the caravan guards were mustering out, Baro caught up to him.

"Where'd you get that bloody armor, anyway?" the older man grumbled, staring at the House Tarwen family crest on the cuirass, not that he was likely to know what it meant. "Steal it from a nobleman? Better hope he doesn't catch up to you."

"Maybe I killed a knight and took his."

Baro eyed him from the side. "Why are you wearing it now? We're in the bloody city."

"And an hour ago, we weren't. I didn't think Jak would stop the whole procession for ten minutes so I could take it all off."

Baro stalked off without a word.

It was pointless to antagonize the other man, but Baro had been unlikeable since they'd first met, when two caravans, both from the Senshall trading house, had joined together during the previous leg. It was the first time Corec had ever met the man, and he hoped it would be the last time they worked together.

Corec had already separated his horse, Dot, and his pack mule from the others and tied them together at a hitching post, so he was able to avoid the mass of people as the porters started unloading wagons. Untying the animals, he climbed on Dot and rode out of the loading yard, leading the pack mule behind them.

Smelling the hint of sea air from the distance, he decided to avoid the cheaper inns near the docks, full of drunk sailors and whores of questionable age and health. Instead, he directed Dot toward the center of the city, to an inn that he knew catered to moderately successful crafters and shopkeepers. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean and friendly.

#

"Silver for the night, which includes one meal. Three coppers each for stabling your animals, and two coppers for additional meals. Two more coppers if you want a bath drawn."

"I do," Corec said to the innkeeper, handing over the coins. "I'd like to have the bath now."

"The bathing room's available. You remember where it is?"

Corec nodded.

"We'll start getting some water heated, then. Be about fifteen minutes. I'll send someone for you."

"Thanks," Corec said, and headed for his room.

The windows latched from the inside and the door had a lock on it, so he decided it was safe enough to leave his sword and armor there while he bathed.

It felt good to finally get out of the armor. He'd been carrying the helmet and gauntlets since they'd reached the city, so he set those down first next to the bed, then took off the vambraces and greaves. With that done, he was able to undo the straps that latched the front and back of the cuirass together around his chest. He set it down carefully, then removed the chain shirt and padding he wore beneath it.

"Ahh," he groaned, stretching out the kinks. He took a moment to scratch his upper right arm, which had been itching off and on for the past three days, ever since they'd stopped at the tavern to the listen to the music.

The journey from Four Roads to Tyrsall was long. Trading houses measured journeys in legs, with the first leg being fifteen days between Four Roads and Dalewood, weather permitting, while the second leg was twenty-one days between Dalewood and Tyrsall. If he hadn't been with the caravan, he could have made the trip in half the time, even with just a single horse. He wondered if his reference letters would be sufficient to get a job as a courier. It would pay the same per trip, but he could make twice as many trips if he didn't have to wait for the wagons.

Dressed in more comfortable clothing, Corec left his room and locked the door behind him. Back down on the ground floor, he found the bathing room with its single tub. It had already been filled, and touching the water, he found that it was reasonably warm. He stripped off his clothes and climbed in.

A moment later, a dark-haired woman in a low-cut serving girl's dress came in carrying a steaming pot. She was a few years older than him, perhaps in her mid-twenties.

Seeing him, she asked, "Would you like it hotter?"

"Yes, thank you."

She poured the hot water in the tub, as far away from his body as possible to avoid any burns.

"That seems good now," he said, after swishing the water around and testing the temperature.

She nodded, then stared at his body through the water. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of promise.

"How much?"

"Four coppers to wash your hair and give you a shave. A silver for more. Two silvers if you want me for the whole night."

"What's your name?"

"Betta."

"It's nice to meet you, Betta. How about you take that dress off?"

She reached behind herself to undo the ties holding it up and let it slip down her body, then pulled her shift over head and dropped it to the side.

Corec reached for the pouch he'd left on his pile of clothing, and pulled out two silver coins for her. "Go ahead and lock the doors."

She took the money, checked the doors to make sure they were locked, then climbed in the tub and faced him with a smile. "What would you like first?"

"Why don't we start with the bath and the shave before the water gets cold. Then we'll head back to my room for a bit before supper."

#

The next morning, Corec woke to find Betta getting dressed. "Will you be staying again tonight?" she asked.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. "I'm not sure yet. I need to find another job, and I don't know when any of the caravans are leaving. When do I need to decide about the room?"

"Noon," she replied, with a hint of disappointment.

He took out another silver coin from his pouch and handed it to her. "Here, in case I'm not around tonight."