Young Writers Society

Each step crunched the gravel of the timeless old road. Szan drew in a breath, letting the unique scent of the undisturbed meadows wash over him. His legs were beginning to tire, and his pack grew heavier with each stride. The sun was setting beyond where the city lay, egging him on with its last cheerful rays. 

He hadn't trimmed his beard in days, he realized. No matter; the duke would listen to him anyway, he was sure of it.

A mongoose dashed across the road, evidently with somewhere important to go. Szan trudged on, keeping his own important task in the front of his mind. 

Minutes before darkness covered the land and torches were lighted, Szan arrived at the gates of Zalla. The fur-clothed guards stepped forward. 

"You're a Pirolian," the first one remarked, noticing Szan's dark eyes and light hair.

"Yes," Szan said. "I need to see the Duke of Valla."

The observant guard looked to his companion, slightly winded. No savage had ever asked to see the Duke before, much less one with a hardly-trimmed beard. His companion raised his spear and said, "No."

"My name is Szan. I come here straight from the battlefield at Kesha. I have something that would be of the most interest to the Duke."

"Kesha? We have no quarrel with Kesha." the aggressive guard looked a little confused.

"Yes, we do," the first guard said.

"We do?"

"No, my brother's just over there dancing around statues with Keshan maidens, playing a lute and firing arrows into the sunset. Of course we have a quarrel with Kesha. Do you pay attention to anything that goes on here?" 

"But - I thought your brother was stationed at Pati!"

"Well, he was, yes, for a time, but that was weeks ago. Don't you remember - "

"Guardsmen," Szan interrupted, setting his pack on the ground. "It's not long 'til sunset, and I doubt you would want me disturbing the Duke's sleep, so if you wouldn't mind, please just look at this and then tell me whether or not I can go see him." He pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper, handing it to the second, slightly bewildered guard. 

The guard looked over the paper, understanding dawning on his face. The other guard read over his shoulder.

"Oh, I can see why you want to see the Duke." His eyes grew big.

"Yes. Please," Szan said, holding out his hand, "Step aside." The first guard did so immediately; the second was still a little lost.

"So, if this is Pati," he motioned toward a spot on the paper, "then this is -"

"Just give the savage back his map and let him through, will you?" the first guard said angrily. His companion handed Szan the paper and stepped aside silently, albeit confusedly. The first guard sighed and muttered something about a god's underpants, then followed Szan through the gate. "I'm escorting him to the Duke," he said before the other guard could ask where he was going. 

Szan trudged after the first guard for quite a ways, heading toward the palace that loomed over the tops of the city buildings. The last drops of sunlight were disappearing, casting an eerie shadow over the city. 

"That other guard, the one you were with - he really has no idea about the war?" he asked as they walked. 

"You never know, with Andrin. He probably heard about it once, then forgot about it in a drunken stupor that night. The useless sod."

The pair's footsteps weren't the only ones echoing off walls; there was a young woman walking on the other side of the road, and a couple of older men hobbling along up ahead.

By the time they reached the palace, it was very dark. Guards like Szan's escort were lighting lamps outside the door when the two arrived. 

"This man needs to see the Duke."

"A savage? To see the Duke?" A guard at the door asked, incredulous.

"Yes, he's a savage, but he's here on important business," Szan's escort was calm. "Involving Kesha."

"Well, all right then," the guard opened the door, and the two entered as a rush of warm, fireplace air escaped into the night. The guard from outside spoke to a man with metal armor and a sword on his hip, who then led them down a long hallway. Szan could not help gaping at the magnificent frescoes and decorations that lined the walls. He'd never been in a palace while in Pirol - he never had a reason to be. 

The armored man stopped at a large wooden door and knocked loudly. A woman in white robes opened it inquisitively. 

"A guardsmen from the gate is here to see the Duke, with an important visitor," the man told her. "Says it involves the war with Kesha." She nodded and opened the door widely for them to enter. 

It was a huge dining room, with a massive table at the center. The Duke sat at one end of the table, alone, eating a single apple and poring over a large book. He looked up as Szan and his escort entered.

"This savage has a map you would be most interested in, Sir Duke." Szan's escort gave a small bow as he said this. 

"Oh, you must be the informant from Kesha," the Duke said. Szan nodded. "Please, sit down. Thank you, guardsman." Szan took a chair near the Duke, setting his pack on the table. The guard bowed again, then exited. 

"What's your name?" the Duke asked.

"Szan, Sir Duke."

"Please, dispense with the formalities," the Duke smiled disarmingly. "What's this map my guardsman spoke of?"

Szan reached into his pack to pull it out, but there was no map there. Astounded, he reached in again, felt around, emptied the pack on the table - and still, there was no map to be found. 

Szan apologized profusely; he must've dropped it somewhere, the Duke could imprison him if he wished, he was so sorry for wasting the Duke's time -

"Do you remember what was on the map?" the Duke said patiently. Szan said yes, most of it, the important parts at least. "Here, why don't you draw what you can remember," he said, handing Szan a wooden pencil and paper from a sack on the floor.

Szan drew carefully, outlining the city of Kesha and all the nearby villages. He drew dots where the Keshan army was known to be, then put arrows at the places they were going to attack. "Right here by Yeta, there's a large army, led by Borik, which you don't know about, exposed and vulnerable. They'd never expect an attack because of the cliffs right here, but I found out they've left this meadow entirely empty. If you hit them soon enough you could win the war next week."

"Excellent! I'll send a messenger right away," the Duke clapped a hand on Szan's shoulder. "You've done well, Pirolian. What would you say to a glass of champagne?"

At the edge of the city, near the wall, the guard who had escorted Szan to the palace breathed deeply. The night air was getting cold, and he was getting annoyed. After what seemed like an hour, a man wrapped in a cloak appeared in the distance. When he arrived, the guard handed him a yellowed piece of paper. 

"I took this from a Vallan spy. They've found a way to attack Borik's army."

"I'll warn him at once." The man pressed several gold pieces into the guard's hand, then disappeared into the darkness again. The guard chuckled to himself. Tomorrow he'd use this to buy a nice, fat pig; then, he'd cook it for himself and his wife, in celebration of the day the Duke of Valla lost the war.