AHEAD

AHEAD, or Valkamir's journey is just beginning.

I.

The sword trembled in my hands like never before. Although I tried to hold the golden hilt firmly, it refused to obey me. It pulled, and at the same time, my hands straight towards the ground. I had no strength. My hands today had failed me. I struggled to keep the sword vertically above the ground and him. He lay there. He was shaking with cold or fear. I don't know. He wasn't begging for mercy. And that was good. I couldn't do it calmly, but I should have. The sword weighed heavily on me. At times I thought I wouldn't be able to hold it, but fate was on my side. His wretched body lay just beneath the blade, awaiting punishment. I wanted to plunge it in; I should do it for the sake of the past, but I should also let it go for the sake of the future, not just mine. He didn't know this, no one had informed him. And that was good, he didn't deserve it. In the distance, I heard screams, the city burning, people trying to save themselves, their children, and their possessions. It was his fault. Another tragedy he had contributed to. A chill of hatred ran through me. I lowered the blade until it almost stabbed him where his heart should have been, but I wasn't sure; not a man like him. He wasn't looking at me, but away, and I regretted it. I wanted to see fear in his eyes, perhaps a feeble apology to save his life. But he didn't. He waited, frozen, his gaze fixed on the city. A smile played across his face. I heard the roar of an explosion. It threw me forward. The blade slammed into his corpse. I don't know if it was blind fate or divine will, but it was bad, and not just for me.

*Years pass and suffering lessens, but the wounds always remain - King Agwin, Deliverer of House Elmire*

Three knocks on the door, no answer. I didn't have the strength or the will to answer him. He'd come in anyway; he always does. I wasn't wrong. Tibran, my servant, traveling companion, and above all, friend, brought me hot tea. I was grateful; I needed a warm drink. Even though I'd paid a lot for my room in the tavern, it wasn't heated, and it was freezing cold outside.

"Thanks, Tib. Bring two more blankets, and then do whatever you want. You're free. I won't need anything until tomorrow morning. I want to be alone."

"What happened there?" he asked anxiously. He wasn't counting on an answer. He wanted to strike up a conversation and be polite. I didn't speak. He knew what that meant, and besides, he didn't need my account. He certainly knew more than even I did. He always had. I could stake my honor on the fact that he'd spent all last night gathering information from anyone willing to share it, and that he'd be filling in the gaps all day and all night today. He left without a word. A moment later, he returned with two blankets. He spread them over me and quickly, quietly, disappeared behind the thick oak door to the room. I had peace and quiet. I could reflect and reconsider everything. Each time, I became more and more convinced that his death was not a good thing. If he were alive, he would have made everything easier for me. But I don't know if, if not for that outburst, I wouldn't have killed him myself. I'd wanted it with all my heart for a very long time, but I also had another desire, I don't know if it was stronger, to save that wretch. I've never loved killing, and I never will. I'm as certain of that as I am of anything else in this world. I know, like no one else, that the death of even the worst of men always affects someone, always brings pain to someone. I've never taken a righteous life, but that doesn't justify me in the eyes of many. I've often been called a murderer and an assassin. That's one of the reasons I sleep at this inn. Nowhere else would they take me, and the landlady here charged me five times the usual rate for two rooms. That's nothing, I can afford it, but I didn't deserve such treatment, not for what I did for these people.

***

"Sir. We have to get up. We have to leave soon." Tib stood over my bed, fully dressed and prepared. It was very early in the morning. The sun hadn't risen yet, and in this region, it rose very early. Even in winter.

"Are the horses ready?" I asked, fighting the throbbing pain in my ankle. It had been bothering me for a long time, but it was getting worse by the day.

"Yes. Cleaned, fed, and saddled.

" "Very well. Go downstairs and order something to eat. I'll be down now." Tib was approaching the door. "I forgot... Did you pack me?

" "Yes. I brought everything down to the stables.

" "Good." I glanced at the purse lying on the table. "I see you've visited the goblins.

" "As soon as I got up. It took me a whole hour to withdraw one purse of gold," he stated indignantly.

A moment later, I was ready. I descended the sturdy oak stairs into the dimly lit hallway. Many questionable characters sat at the round oak tables. At the bar sat a few guys in muddy black coats, hoods pulled over their heads, sipping on mugs of beef ale. In the corner of the room, by the unlit fireplace, sat a group of similarly dressed men. They were discussing some matter very loudly. They looked like merchants. I'd seen many of them before, all alike, but I'd never seen them travel in groups. I set off for Tib, limping on my right leg. My ankle ached, but I managed to walk. He was waiting for me with steaming food right by the window, out of reach of the lamps.

"Where are we going?" he asked cautiously, tasting the chicken, which was burnt on the right side. I wouldn't eat it if I were him. I could see the local oven.

"Ahead," I replied. As I always do. He doesn't need to know where or why we're going. He shouldn't. He's a good friend, though, but, as the wise say, only such friends betray us.

"Are we going far?" He didn't ask with the weariness I'd expect from someone who's been traveling with me for quite some time.

"Probably. This will probably be the longest of our journeys so far," I said "ours" out of habit, but no "our" journey was his. He only accompanied me, sometimes helped, but never traveled for any personal purpose. He did, and still does, only for the money, certainly also for the adventure. Perhaps a little out of habit, decency, and perhaps a little because of our friendship, which, although very specific, has always been there.

"You don't want to go... There?" he asked anxiously, nervously sipping his beer.

"No. Not yet, but soon. I can't put it off like that." I thought about what awaited me. It will be difficult, but I have to manage.

"Good," Tib whispered so I couldn't hear.

"What did you say?

" "Nothing." I accidentally swallowed a piece of cartilage and cursed under my breath." He twitched nervously in his chair.

"You don't eat chicken, you drink beer," I stated brilliantly.

Tib realized the lie hadn't worked.

"I just mean, I completely don't see the point of going there and putting my neck under the axe," he blurted out.

"Are you worried about your neck, or mine?

" "No one deserves a death like that, not even...

" "Someone like me," I finished. I'd long known about his views. To him, I, not as a person with character and feelings, but as a representative of my actions, was utterly evil. His religion told him to beware of people like me, but at the same time, it commanded him to help me. He had been torn for a long time.

"You killed many times without need. You could have spared many. You even killed in front of children...

" "I never touched women!" I said, outraged.

"You exploited them instead!" he said contemptuously. It was beyond him. He was virtuous, profoundly good, unquestionably following his ten rules. And me? Maybe I simply wasn't exceptional. I behaved like everyone else.

"You're not as noble as you think you are!" he blazed with hatred. He'd only behaved like that once before. That was a long time ago. He had a reason. I did something terrible.

"I'm no worse than anyone I've ever killed!" I shouted furiously into the hall. Tib had overdone it. He'd hit a nerve. Without thinking, I jerked my sword free and swung automatically.

"Now! What are you waiting for? You've silenced so many! Why not me?" he shouted without a hint of fear. "You're worse than anyone you've brutally murdered," he told me, bolder than anyone before him.

I lowered my sword and sat down, resigned. He was right.

***

The wooden chair in the hall wasn't particularly comfortable, but I sat motionless on it for hours. My emotions had long since subsided, but it took me a long time to come to terms with Tib's words. He sat opposite me for a long time, just like me. After a few hours, however, he got up and left without a word. I had time to think about what he'd said. At first, I was furious with him for lying so much. But then I realized what I'd wanted to do to him with the sword in his hand. He was right. As usual. He'd exploded like that before.

Snow was falling thickly outside. The frost painted strange pictures on the windows. People were coming and going, each one as one, each time opening the door wide, letting in a ton of frost into the hall. The innkeeper clearly came to his senses, as he finally lit the fireplace with wood brought straight from the forest by a young boy. Perhaps his son.

It took a long time, but I finally realized I didn't deserve a friend like Tibran, née Hafrdika.

A friend or acquaintance would have stood by and only looked at me with pity. But this friend wanted to help me, make me aware of it, change me. Always for the better.

***

It was long after sunset when I decided to go home. I wanted to go to sleep, but I wasn't sure I could. With a dull, limping gait, I walked through the hall. It was almost empty. At the bar sat a man dressed identically to the men I'd seen here before. As I passed him, he flinched and reached out to grab my robe. I automatically jumped back and assumed a defensive stance, without a sword for now. The man rose from the high stool and paid the bartender for his beer. Then he turned to face me and whispered, "You'll sit with me at that table over there," he ordered, nodding to a distant table near the fireplace. There was no one in that part of the room. He was an old man; I wasn't afraid of him. But he wouldn't order me around. "You'll sit," he whispered, revealing what was on the middle finger of his right hand.

***

"Where did you get that?" I snapped ruthlessly.

"Silence!" "Hey," he whispered pointedly, and discreetly pulled me to a table.

The bartender watched us for a moment, but, flustered by my gaze, disappeared into the back.

"Where did you get this?" I repeated.

"I see you know what it is," Grandpa said.

"Tell me!" I threatened. I feared the worst.

"Your mother gave it to me—

" "You're lying!" I interrupted him, but I calmed down a bit. "It's her beloved ring! She always guarded it like the apple of her eye. It was her treasure! She wouldn't give it to anyone! Not even me!

" "She gave it to me... Learn not to interrupt your elders!" he scolded me after a moment. "She gave it to me to prove you could trust me," he told me calmly.

"Why should I trust you? And why a ring?" I asked distrustfully. "It's her most precious keepsake! An item she cared for immensely, sometimes perhaps even more than me," I stated with a slight, imperceptible regret.

"How many times have you seen her wear it?" "The old man asked strangely.

I thought about it. He surprised me. I didn't say anything.

"Exactly," Grandpa read my thoughts correctly.

"And how can I be sure you didn't steal it?

" "Tell me, did you ever know where that ring was, maybe you stumbled upon it sometime?"

The old man was amazing. My mother only showed it to me once, told me its story, and I never saw it again. I even tried to find it once, but I couldn't." Grandpa smiled faintly. "I don't know why. Maybe because he had a way of confusing me and leading me into a corner.

" "Then you know a thief wouldn't find it," he said. "Do you believe me?

" "I don't know. Maybe I do, but I don't trust it," I formulated a political response.

"Do you remember what Mother told you, just before your journey?" he said calmly.

The old man had me thinking back very far. I had to think for a moment.

"Yes," I replied. "I remember, but... You?

" "It doesn't matter who!" he stated firmly. "It matters why!

" "So why?" I held my tongue.

"I'll tell you later," he said curtly. "We have to leave as soon as possible!

" "Where!?

" "You young people," he groaned ostentatiously. "You're so impatient! I'll give you some good advice. Just learn this one thing, young man, and you'll be fine." He made a wise face. "When the old man tells you something, you have to listen with the utmost attention. When he orders you, you have to follow his orders like an ant, but if he wants to teach you something, you should have learned it long ago, otherwise the old man will bore you..." Good, right?" Grandpa beamed. "Maybe a little funny, but true," he smiled again. A faint smile crossed my face too.

"Let's go!" Grandpa jumped up energetically.

"But..." I'd barely begun the question when the old man interrupted me.

"Do you really have such a short memory? Or maybe a slow brain?" "He asked, irritated.

I stood up. I don't know why, but I did. He'd inspired trust and sympathy in me. It rarely happened to me, and maybe this time I'd regret it, but I did.

"I still have to find Tib," I announced as we left the table. The bartender was just returning from the back.

"Okay," my grandfather nodded disinterestedly.

"You're not asking who he is?" I was very surprised.

"Why?" he replied, as if surprised. "I know who Tibran of Hafrdik's house is.

" "Well..." I choked a bit. "Okay. I'm going to look for him... I've been a bit busy today...

" "I know.

By Master Kanklet's sword! Too much 'knowing'!"

"I'm going to the stables to prepare the horses," he announced calmly and left. Hmm... He must know which horse I have."

I headed up the stairs straight to Tib's room. I knocked. No one answered. A moment later, I was in my own room. The room was tidy, but there was no sign of the servant. I hurried to the stables. I hurried through the long upstairs hall and, after climbing the stairs, found myself in the hallway. I headed toward the side door, which led through the long garden directly to the stables. As I passed the bar, I encountered the persistent gaze of a boy sitting just beneath the window. He was watching me intently. As I approached the door, I could still feel his gaze on my back. As I grabbed the doorknob, I tried to catch a glimpse of the boy-observer. However, the spot where he had been sitting moments before was empty.

***

As Tib had said. The horses were groomed and saddled. In the stall opposite, beside a snow-white steed, a small boy was busy. The same one who had brought the wood, and the old man standing in the doorway was instructing him. Tibrin was right next to him. They were talking.

***

I approached them. Even though I didn't know how to behave towards Tib, I had to. I silently cursed the old man for having to stumble upon him. It seemed like an incredibly trivial and insignificant problem, but for me it was an obstacle. I didn't know what to do. A moment ago, I'd been ready to kill him, and now I couldn't look him in the eye. Whatever I did would be wrong. So I chose what seemed to me the most convenient option. I approached them, but I didn't speak to Tib, because I couldn't. At the same time, I tried to behave so he wouldn't be offended by my disrespect.

***

"Ready?" Grandpa asked with surprising verve.

"Yes..." I glanced pointedly around the stable, searching for the luggage.

"I've already loaded the third horse," Tibrin stated indifferently, his eyes bleary, staring somewhere into the hay. He understood my behavior perfectly. As always, of course.

"Then let's go!" the older man roared cheerfully, leaping up to his horse.

"Phenomenal," I commented to myself. "I was terribly surprised where he got so much energy from. At his age, I would have expected him to move like a turtle and react like a snail. And yet he defied every self-image one might have built based on his grandfatherly stature, his long gray beard, and the sturdy wooden cane he constantly leaned on.

" "Call the landlady," the older man ordered the boy, who had just finished tending to his horse. "Have you settled everything at the tavern?" he added as the boy disappeared behind the massive oak door.

"Yes," Tib replied in an impersonal tone.

"Very well. We can't risk ourselves.

" "What..." I thoughtlessly wanted to ask. The older man didn't let me finish.

"Damn you!" he visibly became offended. "You really are stupid!" he added with disappointment. "Now I see your mother told me nothing but nonsense. She said such incredible things that it gives me the creeps!" What fairy tales she spun, that you were intelligent, intelligent, brave... And... And noble, too—the elder was incredibly amused. What was I supposed to say? Nothing sensible came to mind, so I stood silently and took it in stride.

"Phew!" Tibrin growled.

With a smile on his face, Grandpa mounted his horse, which gave him an incredible aura of dignity.

"We can't risk being remembered," he said, instantly becoming serious.

"I wouldn't count on that," I replied.

"Why?" Grandpa became keenly interested.

"For those two rooms, the landlady charged me five times more than usual! She'll definitely remember that kind of money.

" "Not good," the elder muttered to himself. A moment later, he briskly dismounted and headed for the door.

"Where...?" The rest of the question stuck in my throat. Why do I need this, and what for? I asked myself. Enough insults for today. I'd already taken too many blows.

A moment after the old man left, the innkeeper entered the stable. The round woman, with her body and face, seemed exceptionally cheerful and pleasant. However, she certainly wasn't. At least not to me. I'd rather do business with more than one Hastgard merchant than with her. In my dealings with her, she was stubborn, obstinate, and sometimes downright nasty, even vile. Despite the large sums of money I offered her, she refused to let me carry a sword in the tavern. She'd made up this stupid rule just for me, so no matter what, I couldn't agree. We argued for a long time before, only after my innocent threat, and with considerable resistance, she changed her mind.

At one point, the woman, striding toward us, staggered and almost fell. I almost jumped up to hold her, but after a split second, she recovered. She looked as if she hadn't even noticed.

A moment later, the old man followed her. After a few steps, he caught up with the woman and began settling accounts with her. It took a moment, but it went very smoothly. As I watched, I got the impression that the landlady had a certain soft spot for Grandpa. Perhaps it was an illusion.

"Get ready! We really don't have time!" The old man grew very nervous. His calm and good humor vanished in an instant. "We're leaving through the side gate. You are to ride at a distance from me so that no one will think we're together. Do you understand?" We nodded significantly. "Pull your hoods over your heads and try not to show your faces to the grenadiers or anyone else. Do you understand?" We repeated the nod. "I'll ride slowly, but if anything happens, you are to follow me, no matter what." Don't get into any duels, just follow me. And if I start fighting anyone, go out of town and hide in the cave by that big oak tree. Do you know where it is?" We nodded again. Although I wasn't sure why the old man was telling us this, I preferred not to ask questions. I was rather certain of the answer. "No matter how brave you are, or what dishonor it would be for you to escape, you must do as I tell you. No matter what! Do you understand?" Our heads snapped up in silent agreement.

***

I was mounting my horse when something suddenly struck me. I knew how the old man would react, but it was necessary.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice firm and monotonous.

"I can't stand it!" Grandpa roared, and his horse twitched slightly. "How can anyone be so stubbornly stupid!?

" "I have to know!" I yelled. "I have a very important matter, I was supposed to leave today. I have to take care of this! You don't even know how important this is!"

"Important!?" A sneer spread across his face. "This matter of yours is nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing! Among us, only I know what truly important matters are! And you have no idea!

" "You can't say that!" I screamed. I was starting to lose control. Even my innate respect for elders was starting to fail me. Elders in my country were highly respected, and my current attitude would be reprehensible, even outrageous.

"Do you really think this pathetic journey of yours would change anything?" Grandpa asked me, much more calmly.

"I don't know."

"So why do you think it's so important?" The old man was clearly trying to take me at my ease.

"I don't know, but I have to.

" "You don't have to do anything, and you know it. You're incredibly naive. This journey would only be your undoing and a great disappointment. If it weren't for my mission, I wouldn't spare you, but in this situation, you can't go anywhere except with me.

I had to be unyielding. This matter was too important to me for the old man to interfere.

"I have to take care of this. That's the first priority, and then everything else. I'm going there, and that's it.

" I was absolutely right about that. I had chosen a goal I had long pursued, and I couldn't postpone it. Not now. Not after what I had done recently to get closer to fulfilling this mission. Whatever my mother and the old man wanted from me, at that moment I was right. If only he had told me what it was about, if only he had shed some light on the matter, but he hadn't. He didn't even try to convince me. He simply commanded me impudently.

"Stupid child!" the old man went into a fit of frenzy. "You'll come with me even if I had to drag you! If it were just about you, I wouldn't have lifted a finger in this matter! You're so self-absorbed and blind to others! You're acting like a spoiled brat! This matter is so important that someone like you is a terrible danger to it!" Grandpa gasped. "Damn it! Why does it have to be you!? Who could be more inappropriate than you?"