A Princess of Kesselt

A Princess of Kesselt

By

M. L. Stidmon

Copyright 2013 M.L. Stidmon

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The Greggs of Kesselt

Prologue

The rider rode up to the tavern with a simple sign showing a dagger sticking out of a cup hanging from a post. Getting off his horse he chuckled to himself seeing the sign. He had been in Riverton a dozen times over the course of his very long life. He found it ironic that of all the places on Kesselt, he was always drawn back to the Cup and Dagger. Hungry and thirsty the rider recalled that the Cup and Dagger was a better inn of Riverton being away from the seedier riverfront dives. He was just not in the mood to put up with a loud rambunctious crowd. The last thing he wanted to do was share in bawdy songs and back slapping with drunkards. He was just looking for a meal, a couple of mugs of beer and a bed.

Tying the reins of his horse to the hitching post, he surveyed the area outside the tavern. There were several other horses and a few wagons. The few locals walking about did not appear threatening or even caring of his presence. No one was really paying much attention to the rider other than to give him a once over and move on, so nondescript was he. The towns’ people of Riverton were for the most part used to soldiers and warriors coming and going amongst them. Granted it was somewhat odd for a soldier to be at the Cup and Dagger this early in the day. However, no one cared nor would anyone bother to inquire.

After spending what seem like a month in the saddle the rider was he was sore and fatigued. He was on his way back to Dormir, the capital of the same named kingdom. Coming to Riverton was to be just a rest stop before traveling on the three more days of steady riding to the capital.

He walked up to the entrance of the inn and paused for a moment in the doorway. The rider tried to see inside but was only able to make out a few shadowy figures. He opened the swinging doors and stepped inside.

The rider was not a self-conscious type concerned about how everyone seemed to pause and stare at him. Instead he boldly walked in and crossed the room to where the bar was. A few patrons marked his entrance, but none paid much attention to him. To them he was another soldier, someone to leave alone unless approached first.

The barkeeper gave the rider an indifferent look as he approached the counter. The barkeeper did not care for soldiers. They were always trouble, causing fights and breaking up the place. He was not in any hurry to serve him as he made a show to finish wiping a couple of mugs.

The rider for his part waited for the barkeep to acknowledge him. He had seen this type of discrimination before. The barkeeper was another one of those people who bemoan soldiers, until soldiers paid them or saved them. The rider pulled out a Dormirian copper shilling and placed it in front of the barkeeper. The man looked at the soldier with a questioning raised eyebrow. The rider nodded to a tapped barrel of beer.

The barkeeper grabbed a large pewter mug and filled it up from the spigot with a large head of foam spilling over. Taking the mug the rider downed it in a few gulps. Setting the mug down on the counter, he indicated that he wanted another.

You need more than one shilling to get another mug, the barkeeper said.

How about I tell the local garrison commander to close you down for overcharging soldiers of the realm? the rider said in a cool no nonsense manner.

The barkeeper's eyes narrowed in both a quizzical and angry manner, And who would you be to threaten people about?

The rider said, How many soldiers do you know that have any money more than half way through the month?

The man was actually thinking over what the rider said. It was true, what soldier did have money this time of the month, accept those of means and rank. The barkeeper decided he could afford to pour another mug and filled the rider's.

Got anything to eat? the rider asked, placing another copper piece down on the bar's counter.

Have a seat and I'll get something sent out to you.

The rider turned about to look for a place to sit. The inn’s large common room was nowhere as busy for that time of day; there were many places to sit. He took a moment to look the place over now that his eyes had adjusted. He was trying to determine of the few patrons huddled about in a several small groups might be a threat or even worst, annoying. He chuckled to himself when he spied a lone figure sitting off to the side that he knew. Again he chuckled to himself as he crossed over to where a youthful young man was slurping at a bowl of soup. The young man looked like a youth no more than in his late teens. The rider knew that the man’s looks totally belied his actual age.

Kinda young to be in a tavern aren’t you boy. The rider said in the most authoritative voice he could muster.

Mister, the youth said without looking up at the rider while continuing to eat from the bowl, I haven’t had a decent meal in over a fortnight. I may be young looking, but I assure you, you do not want to mess with me.

Why? What are you going to do, make me sneeze? the rider said, startling the seated young man.

The young man straightened up and slowly looked up from the bowl. He had a serious look on his face as he made to confront the rider. Then he recognized his antagonistic.

Borja! Kreego Gregg exclaimed in an excited greeting. I haven't seen you in years. But then I haven't seen anyone in years. How have you been?

Bor Gregg sat down smiling at his friend and brother Gregg. Oh, I'm doing well. I've been surviving. What about you? What brings you to Riverton? I haven’t seen you since you left Dormir all those years ago.

I’ve been in the city states and then down into Gambrel. I’ve been helping as best I could the people in the south recover from when the dragons flew. Was that as bad up here as it was down in the southern parts of Kesselt?

Look around. There’s very little left, the warrior Gregg said taking a deep drink from his mug. It was bad.

I never did understand why the dragons took flight. What do you know? I’ve heard tales that Thomas Kinkaid defeated the dragons. What can you tell me?

Oh yeah, Bor Gregg said looking at the other patrons in the Cup and Dagger. He did not want anyone to over hear what he had to say.

It all happen after you left Dormir, Bor Gregg started. No long after Thomas was crowned King he met a woman and married her. She had several children, her oldest, a daughter name Richelle. The Dragons took flight shortly after Princess Richelle and a younger kinswoman were kidnapped…

Chapter One

The great valley of Grem La’or lies within two mountain ranges branching perpendicular from the south face of the vast Dragon Mountains. The headwaters of the great Desselt River have its origins coming from the shoulders of the mountains on the northern end of the valley before flowing through the lake lands just to the south and then the rest of North Kesselt. The river flows through the heavily forested valley floor and then into Crater Lake before leaving the valley and off to the southern lands. The Grem La'or is majestic and beautiful; though vigilance against predators and monstrous creatures is always the first rule of life. The forest is home to many that prey on others, mostly for food, but sometimes for sport or some other evil intent.

After the cataclysmic battle between the God of Kesselt and the would-be usurping deity, the diabolically evil Reaver, a hardy dauntless people migrated into the Grem La’or to eventually call it home. Clannish in nature and in customs, they revere the land. A reverence that goes so deep, that the people have established a highly regarded status within each clan for a medicine woman and the dauntless woodsmen rangers to aide and guide them in surviving the wilds of the valley. The medicine woman is not only a healer of the sick and injured but a spiritual advisor and councilor to the clan chief and elders. Respected by all to the point of nearly always deferring to her for all consultations, the medicine woman is nearly indispensable to each of the clans. As for the rangers, they range about the valley hunting and trapping for the clans while guarding against attack. Those who are not rangers work as craftsmen or tend the small farms that support the clans. Though rangers are skilled and knowledgeable of the forest they are no better than the mentor that schooled them.

Cullen Telleride was still too young to be a seasoned Ranger. While nearly all of the other respected Rangers were approaching or surpassing their twenty-fifth summer Cullen was still not yet twenty. Even though he earned his Ranger totem three years before, a feat that few achieve that young, the elders rightfully consider him not fully wise of everything in the forest. It was frustrating for him that despite all he had gone through and experienced, he was still not regarded as a full Ranger. For Cullen it was a stigma that he tried very hard to overcome with the elders of his clan. Thus whenever Cullen was assigned to go forth by the council, it was with intrepid gusto and no complaint.

It was shortly after the beginning of the spring thaw that had started to melt the winter snow packs that the first reports of increased signs of kobolds started filtering through the valley. Rangers were sent forth into the surrounding mountains to ascertain if in fact kobolds were migrating into the valley. It would not be good if the part-wolf part-man like creatures, proven to be a deadly nemesis to the clans of the Grem La’or, were moving into the valley in greater numbers than the occasional incursion by raiders. The scattered small clans of humans were always in violent conflict with the marauding packs of kobolds ever since the Gods fought. If the reports were true about the greater number of kobolds coming into the valley, then the very existence of the human clans were threatened.

Four days ago, Cullen was sent to the southwest from his village. He was to range into the foothills of the West Ridge. No one expected kobolds to be in that direction since they had always come from the east. These new sightings reported the kobolds mostly moving about the East Ridge and he felt he had been slighted yet again, having been sent in the opposite direction. With quiet disappointment he left his village to hunt down and report on any kobold movements, not expecting to find anything.

Cullen made his way from the forest of the valley floor up into the surrounding foothills on the second day with no encounters. The young ranger had purposely strayed further north than he had been instructed, knowing that there was little likelihood of finding anything other than possibly a hungry bear emerging from its winter hibernation. It was then on the third day that he found the signs of a large pack of Kobolds. With excitement and a little youthful indiscretion he decided to track the pack as stealthily as he could to learn of their intentions.

When traveling, Kobolds normally kept high up in the mountains and rarely ventured down deep into the valley, sometimes though they would be encountered in the foothills, rarely were they seen close to the villages. There was the lore of a number of notable kobold raids into the valley and of the valiant battles to resist and expel the creatures. In truth, the raids in the past were conducted by a small handful of the dog men preying upon outlying homesteads. Never did they actually try to assault any of the fortified villages along the rivers. But to find the tracks of such a large pack was both exhilarating and frightening.

Cullen understood why the elders feared the troublesome reports of the kobolds. The valley was large, but this encroachment was leading to the inevitable clash between the clans and the kobolds. Never had the two races been able to live harmoniously with each other. It was not a question over misunderstandings between socio economics, politics, or cultures, but the natural conflict between two species over the same habitat and food resources. Cullen therefore decided that it was not enough to just report that he had found the tracks of a large pack, but to follow them and learn as much as he could about how many there were; what were their intentions; and where were they likely going.

Tracking the pack south along the foothills had been relatively easy for the young ranger. Cullen however was having a difficult time trying to discern what the kobolds were up to. It was clear that they were no mere hunting party. This pack was too large when normally kobolds hunted in small groups of up to ten. They were not hunting; this group was traveling fast with no signs of taking prey along the way; moving relatively in a straight line to the south. Furthermore there were no signs of young or the elderly. This was disturbing because it suggested that the group was made up of able body males. Without them actively hunting and no signs of family groups the signs could only mean he was tracking a war party. He kept on their trail, tracking the party through the wooded foothills.

His steadfast doggedness kept him on the kobolds’ trail until the valley was deep in shadow. Figuring that he was only a few hours behind the kobolds the day was waning fast. With the strengths of better night-sight and an enhance sense of smell just as acute as their four legged canines cousins, Cullen prudently held up for the night till the dawning of the next day. When he set out after first light on day four it was not long when he came to where the kobolds had camped for the night. The sight was in a highly defensible hollow. Cullen first checked to make sure there were in fact no kobolds about before sliding down into the hollow to see what he could find out about those that he pursued. He was able to make out that another smaller group had joined the large warlike party. What was really shocking was that this group had brought with it in its company a handful of mountain trolls. Cullen bent at the knee to get a closer look at the very familiar tracks of the trolls in surprise consternation.

Kobolds were for the most part a xenophobic sub-civilized species. As for trolls, they congregated in loose family units, if at all. Never in all of the lore of the valley had there ever been told of trolls and kobolds becoming allies or working in concert. Despite what he had heard over the years, here was proof by the signs of the vacated camp that trolls were in league with the kobolds.

Cullen wondered about this turn of events. He thought he should return back to his village with the news of his findings. However, he had no idea what the intentions of the war party, as he decided to think of it as. Clearly this was no hunting party. Plenty of game had crossed its trail, with no effort to bag it. On the other hand, this was not a pack migrating through, because there were no signs of pups or of the elderly. No, this pack was moving along as fast as possible as if they needed to be somewhere at a specific time. Then there was the joining up of the other kobold group with the trolls. Cullen looked to the south and thought about what he should do.

It did not make sense, kobolds and trolls never traveled together. What were they up to? The young ranger flexed his grip on the stout bear spear he carried in hand and took off in the direction that his strange acting quarry had gone. He decided it was better to figure out what they were doing before heading back to his village.

Before leaving the hollow, Cullen left a message in case any of his brother rangers came across his track. Using leaves, rocks, and sticks he wrote an un-obvious message in the highly secret coded language of the rangers. With that done he continued on after the war party, wanting to close up with it as soon as possible.

The sun was nearly at its zenith when Cullen stopped at a small stream for a drink. He was hot and sweaty from the morning's exertion of practically jogging continuously up and down the hilly woods. Even though he traveled light, he still had plenty with him. There was the ever in hand bear spear. Made of a stout pole of nearly the same length as Cullen was tall, it had a nearly arm length double edge spear tip. Used primarily as a thrusting weapon it could also be used for slashing. Cullen was also armed with a long bow strapped unstrung to a quiver full of arrows on his back. A foot long single edge knife hung from his belt along with a small hatchet that could be thrown with deadly accuracy. For clothing and gear he was limited to buck skin trousers with a similarly made vest over a linen shirt. The stiff looking vest had creases to allow unhindered movement, worked into it. To the untrained observer they would never guess that this vest offered the equivalent protection that steel would, because it was cured with a special sap that only Cullen’s people knew of. A woolen poncho was rolled up lengthwise and then looped crossways over a shoulder and tied together on the opposite side at the waist. Around his head where his long brown hair flowed from underneath was wrapped a purple flowered pattern linen scarf.

Being a ranger, Cullen did not need to carry much. Knowing where and what to eat, he was not encumbered with the necessity of carrying provisions. Besides if he needed to there were caches of provisions throughout the valley that he knew of. As for water, in a land where nearly every draw in the hills had a stream or river, there was no need to be weighed down by a canteen.

As Cullen drank from a clear fresh stream his head snapped up in alert. Very faintly came the distinct clanging of iron ringing through the woods. The ranger quickly untied the bow and strung it. Then with an urgent pace he ran through the woods in the direction from which he heard the sounds of fighting. In one hand was the bear spear while in the other was carried the bow and an arrow.

It took time to get to where the sounds of fighting came from. When Cullen finally reached the area where he thought the fighting was he slowed down and became cautious. With an arrow nocked and holding both the bow and spear in one hand, he picked his way closer, ever vigilant of being surprised himself.

The woods had become deathly quiet as Cullen strained to hear something, anything, while trying to spot danger before he stumbled into it. He even used his inferior sense of smell, for having never met a troll they were reputed to smell terribly. He cautiously moved to the edge of a very elongated clearing.

The clearing in the trees would have been a pleasant destination with the small brook that flowed lazily through one corner. But the signs of battle were all about. Several dead bodies of both men and kobolds lay strewn upon the lush green carpet of grass. All about, littering the ground, were the packages and bundles of the men. There were even a couple of mules standing nervously about, loaded down with even more bundles as if waiting for the return of their masters. Sadly, there was one animal braying madly in pain from a terrible wound.

Cullen took a moment to examine the scene of battle. It was by the brook where most of the bodies lay in prone positions of death. He could see a couple of dead kobolds midway from the eastern edge of the clearing to the brook. Cullen surmised that the kobolds had attacked a large body of men who had stopped during the midday at this inviting clearing, to rest and get water. It looked like they had not been alertly watchful when the attack had come, because there was no indication of an organized defense and only a couple of kobolds had been killed short of the group of humans. Nevertheless, it was apparent that the humans had put up a good fight. Cullen guessed that the number of humans might have been around a score, facing the superior numbers of the kobolds and trolls. Cullen easily surmised that after the initial onslaught of the attacking war party, the group of humans retreated towards the west and out of the clearing. This he could plainly tell for there were bodies leading away from the clearing and up into the higher wooded ground.

He sat back on his haunches and thought about the battle scene before him. Here before him was a strange turn of events. For some unknown reason a score of men from the south had come into the Grem La’or. A greater number of kobolds and trolls then attacked the unsuspecting band. The humans were driven off from their pack animals and other baggage. The kobolds and trolls then gave chase and now they were all seemingly to the west of the clearing or so he believed. Then who were these men, to come into the valley? They were clearly Southerners, but who exactly were they and why had they come unannounced.

Most visitors to the valley went no further than the large walled town of Cois Locha on Crater Lake at the opening of the valley. From there, word was spread in an incredibly efficient method where the entire valley knew the coming of strangers that ventured further north. This time Cullen was as surprised at seeing the Southerners as he was the large kobold and troll party. He shook his head, mystified with the queer happenings. How so large a contingent of Southerners had come so deep into the Grem La’or without anyone being aware of them he could not understand.

He peered about the clearing to make sure there was no threat from either creature or human. Cullen was now being overly cautious even though he was heavily armed. He stepped out into the glen and crept up to where the fighting had first started. As he approached he was proven right with his first impressions of the Southerners. He could see that the men had stopped along the brook in the clearing for their midday break. There were the remains of a cold meal scattered about the area next to the water’s edge. Cullen could see that at the last moment the humans had been somewhat alerted, just before the first kobolds attacked. There were signs of a futile attempt at forming up in some sort of defensive formation. Knowing kobolds, the attack would have been quick and ferocious, but these Southerners were not weak and gave as good as they got by the number of dead dog-men lying about. Cullen figured it was the weight of the trolls that caused the Southerners to seek escape and retreat into the woods.

By the brooks edge he was surprised to find a single set of smaller footprints of a child and also that of a woman. They were the only foot prints of this type, the rest being of the men. As the group of humans was pressed to retreat into the woods, the woman and child apparently followed along. It was clear from the signs in the trampled grass that there had been a great effort to protect the woman and child.

Cullen then heard a high pitch scream coming from the direction he had first come into the clearing from. He ducked back into the cover of the woods. He made his way to investigate the scream, skirting the edge of the clearing while making his way to the far end.

When Cullen reached a central point along the clearing's edge he saw three kobolds appear, coming from the north. They were less than a hundred paces away. Two of the wolf-man creatures were to the front of the third who was half dragging and half carrying an older looking girl. Cullen could see she was putting up a fight, but knew that it was in vain unless he did something.

The ranger planted the bear spear in the ground and drew the arrow back, taking careful aim on one of the nearer kobolds. Cullen calmed himself while he took a deep breath before letting it out. As his intended target moved along unsuspecting of the ambush it was entering, the ranger took another deep breath and held it for only a fraction of a moment before letting the arrow fly.

With a light twanging of noise the arrow left the bow and flew straight towards the kobold. The creature was unaware of its impending death until the arrow buried itself nearly up to the feathers in the kobold's chest. It howled in pain a warning to its comrades as it slumped mortally wounded to the ground.

Cullen reached for a second arrow as soon as the first one was let go, but the second kobold was not in a good position from where the ranger was able to engage it. Cullen took a step to the side in order to make a clearer shot, however as he did so the kobold spotted him. It was one of those things as Cullen reached a better position; the wolf-man was able to charge within range of throwing its spear. Cullen had to dodge the missile and got off a hasty shot.

The kobold was hit high in the shoulder with the arrow doing only superficial damage. Cullen was by now well into the clearing with the distance between him and the still charging kobold greatly reduced. The young ranger tossed the bow to the side and brought up the bear spear. The kobold closed with a short but broad blade sword in hand.

Bounding up to the waiting ranger, the kobold raised its sword up and tried to bring it down upon Cullen in a leaping move. Cullen had anticipated this move and crouched off to the side while bringing the bear spear up to parry the downward blow. Standing up the ranger shoved the sword and the off balance kobold away. Cullen was then quick to follow up by spinning the spear up and over his head before he grabbed the shaft firmly and stuck the long spear blade into the kobold.

The kobold tried to counter the downward stroke from Cullen but only manage to bat the spear slightly away. Cullen's powerful attack would have bit deeply, and could possibly have killed it. Instead the blade pierced the already injured shoulder of the madden creature. The kobold shrieked in pain and spun away from Cullen, while weakly lashing out with the short broad sword.

It was all the ranger could do to recover his weapon from the madden kobold while avoid being slashed by the wildly swung sword blade. Cullen then brought his spear around and as he moved after the wounded retreating kobold, attempting to quickly dispatch the wounded creature. Cullen wanted to kill this kobold without a prolong duel. There was the matter of the other dog man who still clung onto the girl in its grasp.

The kobold turned suddenly to face the ranger. Without missing a beat Cullen swiped the smaller sword to the side before driving the spear tip into the hapless thing. Unfortunately the long spear blade got stuck in the kobold's torso. And with the thing slumping to the ground dying, Cullen lost his grip on his bear spear.

The other kobold had for the most part stood back holding the girl as it watched its companion charge and fight with the hated human. The kobold had made no move to leave the scene of the fighters. When its companion was killed it became enraged and snarled at the ranger. Thinking that the human was vulnerable without spear or bow, the Kobold let the girl go and charged.

Cullen looked at the bear spear and seeing that it would be futile to try and retrieve it from the dead carcass underfoot, he drew his dagger with a fluid movement in conjunction of drawing the hatchet at his side, Cullen brought the knife blade up and with a powerful flick of his wrist threw the blade at the Kobold.

The blade found its mark in the torso of the oncoming kobold. Cullen then acted as soon as he threw the dagger by bringing up the ax. The kobold clearly stunned from being stuck by the thrown blade halted its headlong charge before the ranger; Cullen struck it with the flat of the ax across the head, knocking it out.

Ignoring the dazed girl for the moment, who was sprawled out on the ground terrified, Cullen looked about for any other kobolds. He also took the time to retrieve his bow where he had discarded it. The girl watched him in wild eye wonderment as he went to the one dead kobold to retrieve the bear spear. The young ranger had to straddle the carcass and get a firm hold on the spear shaft. With a somewhat dramatic jerk the spear was yanked free.

Not realizing the intimidating figure he posed to the girl, Cullen gave the area one more once over before turning to the girl.

Are you okay? he asked the girl.

The girl jumped at his voice and started to scramble along the ground, trying to retreat from this wild looking man from the forest. Cullen was surprised at the girl’s reaction. He had just saved her from certain doom from the kobolds. He did not understand how frighten she was and reacted as if she was being overly hysterical or touched in the head.

Cullen tried a calmer approach, I won't hurt you. You need to calm down or more kobolds will come.

The girl was wild eyed and ranting in a combination of incoherent exclamations while whimpering in fear.

Please, I won’t hurt you. I can help, Cullen said crouching down to her level. He needed her to stop making noise, lest other kobolds came back to investigate. He also wanted to take her to a more secure place, so he could learn more about her. But with the girl making such a commotion he was starting to have concerns for their safety.

Cullen held out his hand to the girl and said, The forest of Grem La'or is not the safest place for a Southern girl to travel alone. I could take you to my village. You'll be safe there.

Village? the girl was coming out of her confused hysterical state, I can't. I have to find Maria.

Cullen was confused and ignorant to whom this Maria was. He looked about the clearing with a quick cursory once over. There was only the dead and litter of the fighting. Who's Maria?

The girl tried to get up having come more to her senses even though she seemed distressed about this Maria. The girl took his hand and regained her feet. Standing next to the ranger she took a moment to give him a good look over for the first time.

More nervously shy than anything the girl blushed and turned away. The young woodsman was not nearly as frightening as when he first burst upon the scene and saved her. She turned back to face the ranger.

Maria is my charge. I am her… governess.

Cullen was not sure what a governess was, as a look of uncertainty was on his face. This girl of the South, whom he figured must be from the southern lands, since her manner and dress matched what he had learned of those people, was beyond his experience. For him he had only known the great valley of the Grem La'or. What he knew of the Southlands had all been learned from the tales of others who had in turn learned of the South from others. The girl was an exotic alien to Cullen. Then much to Cullen's chagrin, she started to shout for this Maria.

No! The kobolds will hear you, the ranger said while frantically looking about. We need to leave. They had to have heard you and will be coming for a look.

It was the girl’s turn to be defiant. No, I have to find Maria.

Cullen grabbed the girl's arm and said, Come with me. We need to get out of this clearing.

The girl yanked her arm from Cullen’s grasp, I have to find Maria!

I understand that, but if we don't get out of the open before any other kobolds come back, there won’t be any finding this Maria.

The girl looked at the ranger for a long time appraising him and the situation she was in, obviously trying to decide what to do. Cullen stood patiently before her giving her some time to think and for her to regain her composure. While he waited, it was also enough time for Cullen to get a really good look at the girl.

She was nearly the same age as he, perhaps a little younger. Physically attractive, with a slender body, she was prettier than the girls of his village and most, if not all, throughout the valley. Her long brown hair framed her face perfectly. Her equally brown eyes were windows into an intelligent soul. She also had a quality about her of independent determination. However she was not at all like some of the fiery temperamental maidens that he knew. Cullen, in that brief moment, concluded that despite her beauty there was something more about the girl.

Okay, you can follow me and help me find Maria, the girl said.

It was Cullen's turn to be speechless. The girl had just given him permission to join her in looking for this Maria. He looked at her incredulously before starting to make his way over to the nearest side of the clearing and back into the woods.

Woodsman, she was taken this way, the girl said pointing in the opposite direction, before she walked off into the surrounding woods.

Cullen was taken by surprise. Starting to get irritated with her he felt as if he had no control of the situation. Not so much that he felt the need to be in control, but the fact that he just wanted to get out of the open before any kobolds should certainly return. He did not argue with the girl and caught up to her as they went back into the shadows of the forest.

Chapter Two

Not far into the woods, Cullen stopped by a pile of boulders, Wait, there's some things I need to know.

The girl looked at the young ranger, this time she was the one who was being impatient.

Who are you? Why are you in the Grem La’or?

The girl looked at the ranger and decided she needed to provide some explanation; the ranger did save her after all. My name is Richelle Neville; I was the governess to Maria Novetal, the daughter of Lord Das Novetal and his wife the Lady Cecilia. We were kidnapped a fortnight ago by a renegade Lord of Dormir known as Salmut Park and his henchmen. If you are here to help me, we need to get going, I think they want to do something terrible to Maria.

Cullen wanted to hear more about whom this girl was and why she had been brought to the Grem La'or, but that was not to be. The girl was being impatient and dismissive to any further questions or delays. He looked at her and came to a decision that even though his task, as set by the council, had been to learn about the recent kobold gatherings and incursions; if what the girl said was true, then he had stumbled upon something potentially more important. He decided he would need to follow along with her for the time being so he could figure out who these southern men and their captives were.

I'm Cullen Telleride. I'm a ranger with the Oak Glen Clan. I could help you get this Maria back.

It was Richelle's turn to be both surprised and worried. She had heard of the Rangers of the far north woods. They were reputed to be fierce barbaric warriors who were always marauding villages, raping women and murdering children. This young man though did not fit the description of the tales. It was true he had been savagely heroic in dispatching those kobolds that captured her, but his manner and looks were not what she expected of one of those barbarian rangers she had heard of. He seemed to be honorable and charitable, since he had been so willing to help a stranger. What Richelle did not realize was that it was a strong cultural trait of the human inhabitants of the Grem La'or to be charitable in assisting one another in times of need. Large scale violent conflicts between the clans were relatively unknown. This usually meant that strangers could count on the good will of others. This was an alien concept for Richelle who had known warfare and mistrust all of her life. To trust a stranger, a person might as well throw themselves onto their sword.

I have heard stories of you rangers. Of terrible things that your kind has done, Richelle stated, still unsure of the young man.

I don't know what you have heard but I assure you I won't hurt you. It's not our way to cause harm to maidens lost in the woods. Cullen said in defense of himself and his fellow rangers.

Richelle looked at the ranger, weighing her options. She admitted to herself that she was not in the most favorable of positions. Granted she was free of the brutal Lord Salmut and his horribly wicked compatriot Mathalo, but she was still more or less alone in these hellish woods. She looked at the young man before her and decided that despite the stories about the rangers, she was going to have to both rely and trust in this Cullen Telleride.

It would seem I have no choice, Richelle said giving into the reality of the situation. At least he was handsome, she thought.

I hope you find me worthy, the ranger said stung by her pompous air.

Cullen was getting frustrated with the girl. Kobolds and trolls were in mass in the area. He had already had to confront three of the hated creatures and he knew they were not safe and out of any danger. The girl was being difficult at best. He had never met a southerner before, but had always been told how soft they were while being arrogant and untrustworthy. Southerners were said to be incapable of surviving in the north lands. They were weak as a people, they even complained incessantly about the cold and snow in the winter. From what he had seen of this girl, she was not disputing the general perception that he had of them. However, she was human and it was a duty of rangers to render aid whenever they could to those in need.

As for the people of the north, they were not the cold hearted savages that they were portrayed in the civilized south. True, they were mostly a simple hunter gathering people living in loose family clans. What they did not possess in societal advances in technology and economics, they made up in rich cultural traditions and customs. The clans of the north may not have been sophisticated about large scale farming and husbandry or of advance industrial manufacturing, but their knowledge of their environment and forest lore was at the same level of sophistication as those from the south were of their more advanced societies. Cullen was representative of his people being a master of the woods. Though not fully respected within his clan as a seasoned ranger, he was the equal to the young southern girl in intellect and maturity.

Richelle looked up at Cullen, I'm sorry, you're trying to help and I'm not being kind.

Cullen nodded in accepting the apology. He felt somewhat bad about the harsh thoughts he just had about her. Taking her hand he guided her over to a large pile of rocks that would have provided more concealment and been somewhat defensible. Richelle followed along trusting the ranger.

Richelle exhausted by the long ordeal she had gone through coming to the Grem La’or and the day’s fight sat down on a boulder both to rest her body and to collect her thoughts. Her captors had forced her and Maria to travel from sun up to sun set, daily, for nearly half a month. They were not ill treated, but it had not been easy. Now she needed just to take a moment.

The ranger himself knelt down next to her. He had picked up a small water bottle before following her into the woods and offered it to the grateful girl. Richelle drank from the bottle draining the contents, before handing it back empty. She smiled at the ranger apologetically for drinking all the water. Cullen in turn, paid no mind while putting the bottle back into his shoulder pack.

Like I said, my name is Richelle Neville. My mother is Elisa Neville, who recently married Thomas Kinkaid, the King of Dormir.

Would that make you a princess? Cullen asked, not caring if she were or not. Travelers of the south often told tales of the Kings and Queens and of the nobility class of the south. They usually talked about how one noble would deceive another or how a prince was always off rescuing some hapless princess. Cullen heard of these stories, he just never imagine ever meeting any royalty. Cullen found it ironic that the first princess he met and he was helping her. He had to smile to himself that the stories were true.

Yes, and a very reluctant one at that, Richelle said angrily.

Why's that? Cullen was truly confused about this girl and the way she acted. The storytellers always talk about how wonderful and romantic it’s supposed to be being a princess. Unless they were in need of rescuing and then it was always by some handsome prince. The ranger did not understand why she would not like being a princess based on what the story tellers said. He was therefore not sure if she was angry at him or not.

Richelle soften into thoughtful contemplation.

"My father was Tom Neville, a minor Lord of Dormir. Our lands were west of Riverton, in the north central part of Dormir. He was more of a good cattleman-farmer than a snobbish aristocrat. For him he enjoyed the long days on the northern ranges tending to his cattle and his fiefdom.

My father was a good man to my mother and brother and sisters. He worked hard and was seldom home. He would spend his days tending to the cattle that fed Dormir or deal with the grievances of the peasants. He was often off in the far reaches of his lands for many days at a time. Of course Mother was sad that Papa would spend so much time away. But she understood that he was just taking care of them all by tending to his lands. "

I don't mean to interrupt, but what does this all have to do with you being here in the Grem La'or? Cullen asked somewhat impatiently.

Richelle looked at him and in a commanding tone said. You were the one who wanted to know how it is that I have come to your land. If you please, I am telling you.

Cullen took the rebuke and sheepishly settled into a more comfortable position.

Life was good for the most part, Richelle said softening her tone and continuing with her narration as if she had not been interrupted. Then the old King of Dormir became touched with madness. They say he consorted with minions of the Reaver. He started to demand more from Papa and the other Lords as he looked to war with the kingdoms to the south. Papa refused and was arrested by men who were sent by the king. That’s when our lands were seized by order of the crown.

What happen to your father? Cullen asked becoming engrossed with the girl’s story.

Papa was taken to the city of Dormir and imprisoned. I learned later he died from being tortured; again by order of the old King.

Richelle paused in silence. Cullen saw the tears of un-reconciled grief begin to well up.

I'm sorry, the ranger said with genuine concern. I supposed this king is still in power. What justice can you receive for your father’s death?

Richelle wiped a tear from her face and then stiffen in resolve. Justice? Oh, they paid, but not for the crime they did to my father and family. The Alliance Army conquered Dormir. The King and those lords closest to him were executed, by order of the Prefect, Kreygore Jen. Everyone who was involved in imprisoning my father has been killed. But I still feel empty.

Cullen nodded in agreement that it was good that a wrong was at least avenged by other means. Then the ranger remembered something and asked, How is it you are a Princess?

That's because my mother married the great legion commander Thomas Kinkaid, who then became King.

Who’s this Thomas Kinkaid? I never heard of him, Cullen asked innocently enough.

Richelle sat back in disgust for a moment thinking of the man that she presently thought she hated the most of all of Kesselt. He's an Off-Worlder, who was part of the Alliance Army that stormed Dormir. He was after an evil heretical priest who kidnapped his woman. He killed the priest and it’s said that the woman died too in some faraway place. When he came back to Dormir, the Prefect, Kreygore Jen, put him in command of the armies and made him the War Lord of Dormir. He was made King not long ago when the Prefect stepped down.

Cullen was now really confused about Richelle's tale. How was it that she said she hated a great warrior who tried to save his woman from an evil priest? Back home in his village such a man would be honored. Cullen decided he wanted to hear more.

Richelle obliged him with no prompting. "It has been seven years since my father was murdered and the old King defeated and killed. The new Prefect of the Alliance Army confiscated our lands; Mama brought us to Dormir to live off the charity of others. Mama still had friends with powerful families and they were kind to let us live with them. She tried to get our lands back with the help of our friends. That is how we met Thomas Kinkaid.

We were staying with the Wrytes when the War Lord called upon Lord Wryte. He had come to discuss something about the armies. Mama, who was with Lady Wryte in the hall, met him then."

Cullen interrupted Richelle, Is that when your mother fell in love with this Thomas Kinkaid.

By Our Fallen God, no! exclaimed Richelle. Remembering the danger of lurking kobolds, she said in quieter tone, The cad was very proper in courting my mother.

Cullen was once more taken back by the girl's chastisement. I meant no harm, he said. But why is it you do not like your stepfather?

The girl's shoulders slumped and her demeanor softened. She was not one to share her feelings to a man that she had just met, no matter how noble he appeared to be, He's… just not my father. I really don’t hate him. It’s that he just can never be my Papa.

Cullen saw that the girl was at a point in her tale that she really did not want to discuss with him. He respected her desire to keep some things from him. He really did not care. What he was interested in was how it was that she was in the Grem La'or.

I still don't understand how you came to the Grem La'or

Richelle looked back at the youthful ranger. You've been good to listen to me for so long. I'm grateful to you. I'm almost done.

She continued, Mama married Thomas Kinkaid this past summer. He had just been crowned King of Dormir a month before. I wasn't happy as you can guess.

Cullen had to interrupt, "How did he become King?