The Chosen by Kris Kramer (read the beginning after the end novel TXT) 📕

Aiden and Finias approach, carrying a body no less, they perked up. Even the sleepy one became wide-eyed as they all gathered to watch the travelers approach their station.

One of the guards, probably the watch leader, walked up to them before they reached the actual gate. Like the others, he wore a chain shirt with an iron helm, and a red robe over his shoulders fastened together at the neck with a silver brooch in the shape of a dragon’s head. He held up his gauntleted hand and looked curiously at the Warshield.

“What is this?” he asked.

“This is the Northman,” Aiden said, keeping his head down. He had his hood on, but that wouldn't help him much if he looked the guard in the eye. “The one that killed some merchants outside Alvarton.”

The guard stared at the body, then at the two of them, then back at the body.

“You killed him?” he asked suspiciously.

“Aye.” Aiden nodded back toward Finias. “We both did.”

The guard stepped closer, to get a better look at Aiden, who fought the urge to look away. Hiding his face would be too obvious, so he let the guard stare at him. His eyes narrowed when he saw the brand, and though he said nothing, Aiden could feel every thought going through his mind. He'd come to know them all by now. Finally, the guard turned away and held up his hand to the others.

“You two,” he pointed at the two closest to him, then motioned to the Warshield, “take this to the Palace.”

The two guards jogged up and took the rope harnesses from Aiden and Finias, who eagerly slid them off. Once they had the body secured, the watch leader motioned them through the open gates, and then past the watch towers on either side of the main road. Another guard appeared to take Aiden and Finias' weapons, and once they relinquished those, they followed a few steps behind the watch leader, careful to stay close, while not seeming too excited about their coming reward.

The guards led them about a hundred paces into the city, past the row of inns, taverns and craft shops lining the street near the gates, then turned east onto the curved path that led to the Grey Palace of Corendar City, where King Thaine Trannoch ruled the kingdom. Thaine, by most accounts, was a good man who'd salvaged the kingdom after King Damhran's death and the disastrous turmoil that followed. But even though Thaine had ruled the land for nearly fifteen years, it was Damhran whose legacy still adorned the walls of the city. Dragon banners lined the walkways or hung from arches over city streets, and a statue of his likeness stood proudly in the fountain at the city’s main crossroad. Most of the kingdom had moved on after Damhran's death, an event that had fractured the kingdom and led to the current wars with Andua and Bergmark, but Thaine, a former general under Damhran, saw himself as merely a caretaker of this great kingdom. A man waiting for another leader to step up and take his place. He'd been waiting for fifteen years.

Aiden caught himself admiring the city as they walked along the wide, cobblestoned streets. He'd been here plenty of times before, but after avoiding the place for two years, or more accurately, being unwelcome, he had a new appreciation for the architecture, the people, the grandness of the capitol. The cathedral-like Church of the Resurrection loomed to his left, towering over the entire southern half of the city. A small group of priests, in their immaculately pressed white robes, crossed the road ahead, leaving their duties at the church to return home for the night. They all turned as they did, staring at Aiden, Finias, and the guards in obvious disapproval, but none of them bothered to stop and investigate any further why these men carried a body through the streets.

Just past the church they took a right down another wide path, where a row of expensive carriages waited in line to enter the wide wooden gates of the Esterwick, the walled-off section of the city where lords and nobles from afar kept their city residences. One of them had decided to host a party tonight, and the carriages likely held wealthy lords and ladies from all over Artora, eager to mingle and be seen. For a moment, Aiden wondered if they'd pass through that gate, something he'd never done before, and announce their victory to the assembled nobility. But as they walked past the carriages, Aiden realized how foolish that notion must be.

Shortly after the Esterwick gate, the road curved to the left and led straight to the southern walls of the palace. As they approached the entrance, the watch leader slowed and motioned the guards carrying the Warshield to go ahead. He pointed to a stone bench nearby and looked at Aiden and Finias.

“Wait there,” he said. That seemed odd to Aiden. He'd expected that they'd be there when the body was brought in, so they could be properly recognized. Aiden nodded without protest, though, and sat down, watching anxiously as the guards disappeared through the iron gates. Finias seemed a bit more agitated by having to wait, shaking his head in annoyance. After a moment, though, he joined Aiden on the bench.

They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. Aiden tried to keep his expectations low. He knew deep down that his life wouldn't completely turn around overnight, but he still wondered what this might mean for him. It was hard not to want the last two years to just disappear. He missed his old life dearly, and he wanted it back more than anything, but he had to temper himself. The most he could honestly expect from this was a small reward and maybe some kind words, or a proclamation at the most. The brand wouldn't go away – at least not without some priests willing to go to a lot of trouble – but he hoped that killing this Warshield would at least start the process of healing his reputation, just enough to lessen the burden and the shame he felt when people saw him. He wanted so much more than that, but for tonight, he was willing to accept less, a lot less, as long as he knew things were headed back up for him.

“So,” Finias began, breaking the silence, “just how big a reward do you think this is worth?”

Aiden shrugged. “I don't know. I would guess at least a few gold. Each.”

“That's it?” Finias seemed disappointed. He thought about that for a few moments, then, “That seems low.”

“Perhaps.” Aiden glanced over at the boy, who stared at the ground, all of his frivolity and arrogance gone. Aiden barely knew him, but he was certain that this wasn't the same man he'd met a couple hours ago. He wondered again about his initial impressions of Finias, and he became more and more convinced he'd been right on every count. “You've never killed a man before, have you?”

Finias looked at him in surprise, and then quickly turned away. He forced a laugh. “You can't be serious. Have you forgotten how we met?”

“You're right.” Aiden nodded slowly, faking thoughtfulness. “I apologize.”

“As well you should.”

“Tell me about it, then.”

“About what?”

“The first time you killed a man.”

“You don't believe me?”

Aiden shrugged.

“Of course I do. I just want to hear the story.”

Finias pursed his lips in thought, then flicked his eyes up at the armsman. “You first.”

“Fine.” Aiden leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'd been in the Sotheran Army all of three weeks when they sent me out on my first patrol. We were to garrison one of the advance forts northwest of the Red Hills, in preparation for a raid force coming out shortly after us. Before we got there we were ambushed by Thorns.” Aiden chuckled as the memories of it came back to him. “They hit us from behind, and if one of us hadn't been keeping a close eye on our surroundings, it would have been over fast, because Thorns are vicious. They go into a fight with no expectation of coming out alive. Fortunately, we survived. In fact, it was a spectacular battle... and it's the most vivid memory I have of my time in the frontiers.”

Aiden sighed, remembering the details of that afternoon. The clanging of swords on shields, the sting of sweat running into his eyes, the heat from a blaze of fire cast by one of his wizard allies, and the smell of smoke afterward. He wanted to feel it all again.

“Anyway,” he continued, “we fought back and forth for a while, neither side really able to take the advantage, and of course all I did was stand there looking like an idiot. That's all you do your first few times. You try not to screw up what your mates are doing. Eventually, another patrol group found us and we managed to turn the tide and slaughter the Thorns. I'd contributed almost nothing to the fight, but I saw one of them trying to run away, which is strange in hindsight. So I pulled out my crossbow, chased after him, aimed for his head – and ended up shooting him in the calf instead. He stumbled, so I ran over there and pulled out my sword.”

“He tried to fight back, but he was already hurt pretty bad, and I was too eager to prove myself, and I wanted to make up for not doing enough earlier. So I killed him. I did my duty and I drove my blade right through his gut, and he died. But, I realized afterward that I'd seen something in his eyes just before. It wasn't fear. I don't think he was afraid for his life.” Aiden glanced at Finias. “I think he just wanted to get away and go home, and he was sad that he couldn't. That I was taking that from him. For a long time I wondered if I would have held my blade if I'd recognized that sooner. If I would have just let him go.” Aiden let his voice trail off.

“And?” Finias said, filling the void. “Would you?”

“No.” Aiden finally responded. “I wouldn't.”

They were both quiet for a long moment.

“So, you remember it all that clearly?” Finias asked. “The whole thing?”

“You never forget it,” Aiden said, and then flinched when he realized what he was telling his young companion. Finias was an excellent shot, but he'd obviously never killed anyone before tonight. And he certainly didn't need anyone telling him that he'd relive that moment for the rest of his life. He wondered if that's why Finias was out here in the woods in the first place, and not putting his talents to use in the war. Maybe he'd never had it in him before now.

“So, you want to hear the story of my first kill?” Finias asked.

“No,” Aiden said, no longer feeling the urge to push the boy into a lie. “You can tell me later.”

Several long minutes of silence passed before they finally heard voices approach from the other side of the palace gates. They glanced at each other apprehensively, then watched the doors, waiting. When they finally opened, the watch leader stepped through, along with five additional guards. Aiden wondered if they were an escort of some kind as he and Finias both stood and took a couple shuffling steps toward them. The watch leader stopped in front of them and held out his hand.

“Here's your reward,” he said, dropping some coins into Aiden's hand first, and then into Finias'. “Now go home, and say nothing of this to anyone.”

Finias looked at the coins curiously. “This is five silver.”

“Yes it is,” the watch leader responded with a stern tone. “Is that a problem?”

“I should think so,” Finias said, his voice rising. “How is killing that thing only worth five silver?”

The watch leader scowled and stepped forward, standing as menacingly close to Finias as he could. The other guards became restless, too, and Aiden watched two of them rest their hands on the hilts of their weapons.

“I think you should take your money, keep your mouths shut, and go home, before we decide that even five silver is too much for the likes of you.”

Finias stared back at him, either choosing not to back down or not realizing how dangerous the situation had become. They were in an empty street, at dusk, surrounded by guards who'd just cheated them of their rightful reward. One