Prologue to Bastards of Liberty (Hardback)

The pine tree’s sap stuck to Runt’s hands as he climbed higher. His older brother Ben moved him towards the top of the four-hundred-year-old pine tree. The boys had hollowed out the interior of the branches, so it felt like a ladder as they climbed higher. It was just enough so their young bodies fit, and they could climb and look out across the valley of their homestead, watching the sunset, birds take flight, and their neighbors below them, unseen and unheard like two crows taking in their territory.

“You ok, Runt,” asked Ben a slight worry for his younger brother.

“Of course, just my hands sticking to the branches,” said Runt as his breath shuddered along with his nerves. The summer season known as the time of the god Jupitor left the days long and gave the two boys the ability to play after getting their chores finished before dinner. Ben stopped climbing, which forced Runt to pause as well.

“Think this is far as we go, I don’t want to snap the top of the tree off.”

Ben switched his handholds and moved his feet, so he faced out now, looking out past the valley. Runt looked at his brother’s feet and out along the valley at their neighbor’s homes.

“Ok, going to move over to the other side,” said Runt. He shuffled around the grand old pine tree and looked out past the river used by everyone in the area to bathe and fish in.

“Be careful, Runt, don’t want some warhawk to pluck you from the tree and tear you up becoming food for its little ones,” his older brother said with a giggle.

“I will, I will,” Runt wined slightly annoyed, his face red, as his feet trembled from the height and thought of a giant bird of prey tearing him to pieces mid-flight.

Runt, the younger of the two, adjusted around the branches, just a bit below Ben, his head high as Ben’s stomach but on the other side of the tree. He sat on a branch, keeping balance by using one of his arms to hold onto another branch above him as the tree swayed, along with the life of Wolf Hills below.

“Did you see that the old lady across the river, Miss Rowan, has a black willow tree and two oakthorn trees, I wonder if we could find some cast off wood from the oakthorn trees and see if Angus might be able to make something out of it, like the handle to a sword or axe.” Runt smiled. “I bet Alysha would help too and maybe Helena.”

Ben sighed deeply as if being older and smarter were a chore he dealt with when speaking to his younger brother. “Best not, the black willow trees are dangerous, that fog around the trees can burn you pretty badly. Besides Alysha and Helena don’t care for that stuff anymore, or at least not as much.” Ben took a deep breath and changed the subject. “When I go off to squire for dad, are you going to work with Angus at the tavern? He said he’d love to have you around if I can’t help anymore.”

“Yeah, ma said I could but only when we are caught up around the house, so maybe during big celebrations or when there is a market day. Ben, do you really wanna be a soldier when you grow up?”

Ben shifted and sat on a branch, peeking over at his brother. Ben was eleven summers old and angling upwards in height. He saw two crows circling off in the distance cackling and spinning around in a deep orbit.

“I want to be like father. I want to be a soldier, a knight, killing savages in the mountains, battling orcs in the wilderness, and maybe marry a grand duchess somewhere off the coast of the great Atlantis Ocean,” said Ben. The wind picked up, and they grabbed onto the branches tighter with both hands.

“Dad’s never home, I miss him. Alysha said he’s at court trying to end the war and keep the Nation of Stouya and Legion of Carigreed from taking over Vineland,” said Runt. “I dunno what she means, he’s a soldier, he commands other soldiers, the court of the capital it’s confusing. So many titles, names and bowing. That’s not fighting battles, glad we don’t have to be there.”

Ben sighed deeply, thinking about the Brotherhood of the Rose, and the Order of the Crimson Cloaks. They were two ancient orders steeped in history and chivalry. His heart ached to achieve membership in one or the other.

“What about you Runt? What do you wanna be when you grow up? Do you want to battle a hoard of goblins deep in dwarven caves, explore the grand labyrinth of a library at a university, or meet a powerful wizard who’ll whisk you off on an adventure?”

Runt made a face and smiled. “You mean not like some made-up things like the spooky old bog witch in the woods, the orc king of the Gloomspire, or an elven knight of the Hazefire Federation out west?”

“Where did you hear about all that stuff?”

“I read about in the books dad left us, and the ones borrowed from Angus.”

The branches shifted again and the slight taste of Sif the bringer of harvest drifted through the valley, but the late summer heat kept the season of autumn away.

“Well, I don’t know, Ben,” said Runt. “You’re going to be a soldier. I guess I just want to be like you. Strong, tall, and smart, be a soldier like you wanna be, like Dad.”

Ben looked at Runt for a moment but didn’t delight in the reverence his brother had for him, so he turned away and looked out at Wolf Hills. “We better get down. I think the weather is changing. Head down slowly and be careful. Ok, buddy?”

“Ok Ben, ok.”