The Boy From The Forest

A Long Time Ago

The King was frantically laying plans. At least he was trying to. His advisors were all talking at once. Each of them expected that everyone was listening to him and to him alone. In the courtyard, men were running to and fro with no apparent purpose. On the wall of The Castle, men were huddled in deep conversation in groups of two or three.

The King had no other name than The King. No other name was necessary.

“The Thogarts are marching. My scouts tell me they will be at the border of Narrython in a fortnight.” Narrython was their kingdom. A fortnight is two weeks.

“The Woodland people are restless. All those who live near the Demarkation Line hear war drums. None dare venture into the Forest to see what they are doing.” The Woodland people were the hereditary enemies of Narrython and indeed all the kingdoms of the Cultivated Lands.

“Caw caw!” The King’s pet crow had become agitated.

“Shut UP!” The King banged his fist on the table.

He might as well not have bothered. None of them heard him, especially since Otto, the blacksmith, had started hammering something just under the window.

The king drew his sword and BANGED it on the table. The crude bronze sword made quite a noise.

Everyone now was silent. Except of course, for General Graveline. General Graveline was deaf as a post, and on top of that, he couldn’t hear at all. High Marshal Cedric deConqueror elbowed him in the ribs, and General Graveline became silent as well.

“Good people, I will have your reports one at a time. Colonel Farsight, exactly what have your scouts reported?”

“As I said, the Thogarts are marching. The Snathtarts are arming for war, but they will not say who they are supporting. Even if they say they support us, they are on nobody’s side but their own.”

“General Graveline, how are the new troops coming along? When will their training be finished?” The King looked right at General Graveline so he could read his lips.

“The new recruits are hard to teach. They are just a bunch of country bumpkins with some petty criminals and drunks thrown in for good measure. Some of them are obviously trying to fumble around so much that they are sent home. I have issued a decree that none will be sent home unless his toes are pointing at the sky. That has stiffened their spine quite a bit.”

“High Marshal deConqueror, what do you think about the situation along the Demarkation Line?” On the other side of the Demarkation Line were the Forest and the Woodland people. Not enough was known about their doings.

“Drums are heard day and night, all up and down the Demarkation Line. What is worse, they are drumming in patterns that no living man has ever heard. We think it is calling all the tribes to war.”

“Yeouch!! This whole batch of iron is no good.” This was Otto the blacksmith, who was working right under their window.

“The smelters are forced to use green cordwood, instead of the dark anthracite coal that they usually use. The heat from burning the green wood is less, and impurities remain in the iron. It has been this way ever since the Duchy of Carbonton closed its borders. They are on a kick about racial purity.” The Guildmaster of Trades expanded on Otto’s comment.

The King chuckled. “The people in Carbonton are no different than anyone else. But now they want to think they are some kind of master race. They can go crawl in a hole in the ground and stay there.”

The discussion continued. There were more down to earth matters like provisioning and equipping an army. Otto continued trying to make weapons from the inferior iron.

A Place Far Away

“You have completed your training; now you are come to Talk With Us.”

The supplicant made no answer. None was expected.

“You have shown exceptional retention of knowledge taught to you, and you have demonstrated an understanding of how this knowledge can be used.

“Furthermore, your field trials showed that you are aware of your immediate surroundings, and how they can be used to achieve your goals.”

“I have a question for the supplicant.”

“Proceed.”

“What do you think of [She who must not be named]??”

The supplicant took a moment to formulate his answer. The quick answer was ‘Somebody should have killed her before she was born,’ but if he said that, it might seem pandering and trite. There was a better way to answer.

The supplicant launched into a detailed technical analysis of this individual’s failed project, starting with the fact that she seemed unaware of variances in the linear progression of the statial timeline. In short, she had made a horrible mess of it and caused many innocent beings to suffer. A primitive but stable society had been transformed into chaos where every being was against every other being. Safeguards had now been put in place, but no one was sure if they would prevent a disaster like this from happening again. Those Who Question were edgy; he could see that.

Finally, it was over. After a short time, they had grown weary of his answer about [She who must not be named]. Then the supplicant demonstrated the form he would take for the duration of the mission. And he had to discuss in detail the actions he would take to bring a primitive society to a place where it might begin to progress to a level where they could harness the fundamental cosmic forces of the universe. You had to keep in mind the long-term goal for this kind of thing.

The Castle of The King

The King was still struggling to get everything organized for the war. The men from the Forest had emerged from their woodland habitat in great numbers. The Thogarts had indeed reached the borders of Narrython. The King had pulled all his forces together at the Castle, so the Thogarts were entering Narrython unhindered.

From an entirely different direction, the Orcs had risen. Usually, Orcs lived in the badlands where humans could not make a go of it. But the last 6 or 7 years had seen better than average rainfall. This increased the food supply, including in the badlands. The Orc population had skyrocketed. The areas near the badlands had seen more Orc raids and other signs of increased Orc activity, and now the Orcs were on the move.

Things were not going well at all.

The King decided to run out to the stables to check on his horse. He was a good horse, but you needed to keep an eye on him. Besides, The King had heard that his horse had fathered a foal, and he wanted to see it. A foal is a baby horse.

Just as The King got to the stables, an old man stepped out of the shadows. He had long white hair and was very thin. He probably was going to ask The King for something. Those People always tried to beg something, if you let them.

“You are The King. I am Johanaston. I know mysteries past, present, and future. You are about to embark on a war against many enemies. I can give you things which will enable you to win this war and make your kingdom secure for many years to come.”

“What are you going to do, make a gold doubloon come out of my ear?”

“I could, if I wanted to. That is, make a real one come out of your ear, not pull it out of my sleeve. But that is not what you need. You need a sword that will cut through anything, and a shield against which nothing can prevail.”

The King said nothing. His sword was an old bronze clunker that would not stay sharp. He could not afford anything better. Some of his army were breaking branches off trees to make clubs.

Johanaston went back to the tree where he had been waiting, and picked up a sword and shield. They were strangely devoid of any kind of ornamentation.

“This sword is Cumberfordtte. It is unlike anything you have ever seen. It is the sword of the righteous. When you wield it, you must believe that it is the sword of the righteous.”

The King took the strange sword. It hardly weighed anything.

At the corner of the stable was a huge rock. It went way under the ground and was simply way too big to try to move it.

Johanaston pointed a bony finger at the rock. “Swing Cumberfordtte at that rock. Be sure to believe that it is the sword of the righteous.”

The King swung the strange sword at the rock. He did remember to believe that it was the sword of the righteous. The rock split into two pieces right where Cumberfordtte had sliced it.

The King cut up some small trees and the dirt under his feet. He rummaged around in the stable and found an old piece of iron. Cumberfordtte cut through the iron effortlessly like everything else.

“I have something else for you. This shield is Ygsdryyl. It will stop any blow struck against it.”

The shield, Ygsdryyl, was oval shaped and very unremarkable looking. The King threw some rocks against it and observed that the rocks bounced off before they quite reached the surface of the shield. Most curious.

The King had nothing to lose. His forces were way outnumbered. The only way the new recruits could be made to fight was to put a company of old grizzled troops behind them. The idea was that they would be more frightened of the old grizzled troops behind them than the enemy in front of them.

But this… This could make all the difference in this war. This old man was not offering anything more, but he had already given The King a tremendous advantage.

The King and Johanaston walked back to the castle. The King was being very nice to him, and Johanaston was going to be the court Sorcerer - a place of very high honor.

The Thogarts had ventured a few miles into Narrython. King Edward of the Thogarts knew he should be happy about that. His army was delighted that they had encountered no opposition. The frontier garrison that was usually at the border had been pulled back.

King Edward knew a strategic move when he saw one. That frontier garrison was not going to hold back his army in any event. No, The King had consolidated his forces in his capital. If King Edward did not watch himself, that army was going to come down on him in all its combined might.

The peasants had fled the area, taking most of their pigs, chickens, and everything with them. One time, the Thogarts found an old cow grazing in a pasture. And of course, they immediately had to cook the old cow and eat all of it before they would do anything else. King Edward needed to find a better way to motivate his army.

A Week Later

The day had come. The King and his beleaguered army had taken the field. On the right were the Thogarts. The Forest people were at the center and left. Coming up in his rear were Orcs.

The Snathtarts were clustered a little ways away from them all. They were scavengers, waiting to see how blew the winds of war.

Johanaston squirmed on the magnificent white charger that The King had graciously given him. The barbarians, they rode around on animals. Worse, an animal with a back so broad that Johanaston could hardly get his legs around it. In his right hand, he held his new staff. It was long and elaborate, with a beautiful blue crystal embedded at the top. The crystal would help him focus his powers.

The day was cold and blustery. The sun was hiding behind heavy clouds, and a cold, disagreeable wind was blowing. Being out on a day like this would gradually sap your strength.

As far as The King knew, none of these nations were allied with one another. But then, none of them were allied with him either. This was going to be a four-way battle, with his army in the middle.

The King drew the sword Cumberfordtte. The shield Ygsdryyl rode easily on his left arm. Here they came, the Thogarts first.

The King raised Cumberfordtte over his head and brought it down on the first Thorgartman to reach him. Cumberfordtte sliced all the way through the great lummox, from the top of his head to his crotch. The two halves fell separately to the ground.

That got everybody’s attention. The men in the army of The King took heart. The Thogarts kind of slowed down in their headlong rush into the fray. The King stepped forward and swung Cumberfordtte from side to side. Two more Thorgartmen were sliced into pieces, this time at the waist.

King Edward of the Thogarts was not to be deterred by a little bad luck. “Archers!! Fire at The King!! Take him down!”

The Thorgartmen archers each grabbed an arrow, nocked the arrow, drew and released. Nocking the arrow means fitting the slot in the back of the arrow into the bowstring.

Twang!! Twang!! The arrows flew in a great cloud toward The King.

An arrow is different from a bullet, in that you can see the arrow in flight. The great cloud of arrows came toward The King. Then they kind of all came together. The great compact mass of arrows flew toward Ygsdryyl. Then they just stopped. They all fell to the ground, neatly stacked and sorted for reuse by The King’s archers.

Johanaston smirked to himself. He was having fun in spite of himself.

The King just happened to look at the hill where the Snathtarts had gathered. There were none of them to be seen. Cowards to the end, they had fled the field.

Now came the men from the Forest. Whooping and shouting, they came in a great undisciplined mass. The King raised Cumberfordtte above his head to rally his forces. In spite of the sunless day, Cumberfordtte reflected the light of the noonday sun. It blinded some of the Forest men that were closest; such was the brilliance of its light.

The King’s army formed a shield wall as best they could. After a few moments, they modified the shape of their shield wall so as to channel the shrieking Woodlanders toward The King. He slew them all. After half an hour, they ran back to the Forest, not to reappear for two generations.

The Orcs never did engage in this battle. They withdrew and went to besiege the Snathtarts. But that is another story.

After all had fled, The King climbed a barren hill on which sat a strange petrified tree. He rallied his army to him, and they all rejoiced in the victory. Because of the petrified tree, it was called the Battle Of The Stone Tree.

Johanaston was satisfied. This was the beginnings of a stable society; Not an empire, that can collapse in a couple of generations. But this would give a stable social matrix in which the inhabitants can advance in the arts and sciences.