Chapter 2

The next morning Pherein found himself still thinking about Lily and her family, but mostly about the woman. There was something about her that still wasn't sitting right and that irritated him. He couldn't understand his feelings though the invitation to return was still on the table. His breakfast of cold beef, bread and hard-boiled eggs sat untouched on his plate as he mused in the common room of the Sorrowful Ranger. The ale he'd ordered to go with the meal was still in his hand, having only had two sips.

Two members of The Watch, the Grantsbend Militia who guarded the city, sat at the table beside him and the distracted man couldn't help but hear their conversation.

"Two more disappeared last night," one militiaman declared taking a pull from his tankard.

"There, there I tell ya! Something no good is happening here," his watch mate rejoined. "That's the third disappearance this month."

"Bah, tis nothing. The comings and goings of people from a big town, nothing more," the first scoffed.

"You're wrong, and you know it!"

"Random and unconnected, says I!"

The increasingly boisterous conversation between the two guards was suddenly cut short and the pair became very interested in the bottom of the mugs of ale they'd been drinking.

Though lost in thought the Delorgan was aware enough to notice a garishly dressed man walk into the establishment with several bodyguards though it was evident to the seasoned fighter that the tall, thin man's unseen retinue was larger still. Behind the obviously important figure walked the young man who attacked Lily.

Pherein had been expecting this meeting.

The well-dressed man walked right up to Pherein, two bodyguards who seemed to have Orc blood flanking him, "Do you know who I am, Delorgan?" he demanded haughtily.

"Yes, you are Amon Sul," Pherein replied, looking up but not moving other than to take a sip of ale.

"And do you know who I AM, Pherein of Delorgan," the man declared, "since I know much about you."

"I know who you are and what you represent, sir," Pherein answered respectfully though he continued to sip his ale as men began to encircle him.

"Then what would ever get into you to attack my son and his friends?" the powerful man, known for both legitimate and less-legal business declared, his men starting to close in the circle.

Still, Pherein did not respond, then he casually said, "Strange, one man attacking three. Seems unlikely, does it not?"

"Well, you are a seasoned fighter," Sul huffed, "and they are…"

"Young men bent on raping a defenseless woman on the side of the road."

"Raping a young woman?" the powerful man declared, taken aback. "What do you mean by this?"

"I mean I came upon your son and his friends seeking to take advantage of a woman going about her business when they likely have the coin to pay for those who would gladly take their money," Pherein stated, an edge coming into his voice that caused several around him to flinch.

"Vance, what say you to this charge?" Amon Sul turned suddenly to face his son who stood behind him.

The sneer on his face quickly turned into one of panic. "No, no father! The man lies. He attacked us on the road to rob us."

"Now you say it was robbery? A Delorgan? The truth, boy," the father demanded.

"It is not what is seems," the now panicked young man cried.

"So, there was a woman?"

She was willing," Vance protested.

"The truth!" Amon Sul bellowed and slapped his son hard across the face, causing him to stumble.

Vance said nothing but looked at the floor in shame and embarrassment while the father's guards looked on impassively.

Amon Sul breathed in heavily and pursed his lips. "My apologies to you, Pherein of Delorgan, it seems I was mistaken. Allow me to pay for your food and drink for the inconvenience."

Pherein nodded his assent.

"Porter," Amon Sul called to the tavern keeper, "see that his tab is cleared."

"As you wish, sir," the barkeep answered from beyond the long servery, wiping glasses with a white rag.

Amon Sul motioned to his entourage to leave, ignoring his son who glared murderously at the Delorgan though saying nothing.

"The woman will not be harassed or harmed," Pherein declared, taking another sip of his ale.

"Excuse me?" the powerful crime lord asked, turning back in shock and surprise.

"The woman your son attacked will not be harassed or harmed. Nor will her family," the fighter declared.

"And what interest do you have in her?"

"The interest of one who wishes to see the innocent carry on as such," Pherein stated with more passion in his voice than he'd expected to hear.

Amon Sul chuckled and nodded his head in surprise. "You have balls, Delorgan, I grant you that. Done." He then turned around to ensure he had everyone's intention. "The woman and her family will not be harassed," the influential man proclaimed to all around, turning to give a withering look to his son. Then turning back to Pherein walked over and patted him on the shoulder declaring, "if you are ever looking for a job, come and see me."

The entourage left and Pherein went back to his meal, wondering what all this meant. The man ignored the buzz of excitement from the patrons who remained after the very public confrontation. It was none of his concern nor interest. The warrior went on about his business the rest of the day, wandering about idly. He was between jobs, had plenty of coin in his purse and didn't seem to have a care in the world. He moved about freely in the market, wearing a kilted plaid and jerkin carrying only a dirk for protection. In the city there was little to fear during the light of day with the city militia maintaining regular patrols. Plus, with his size and reputation few would openly challenge the muscular Delorgan with a long white scar from his left ear to forehead. The fall day was brisk so his ruddy, weathered skin had a healthy glow of red to it. No, the man had not a care in the world.

Yet Pherein MacDiarmidson was restless.

At age 29 the Delorgan was considered to be in the prime of his life with every opportunity a young adventurer could want. He has martial skills, physical and persuasive power and money, everything one could want. Still, something was missing.

The man had been born with a sword in his hand and taught to fight as soon as he could stand. That was the way of the Delorgans. He was educated in the things he needed to know and held status and position as the son of the Jarl of one of the biggest towns and biggest clans on Lothian, the biggest of the chain of islands in the North Sea that made up the tribal lands of Delorgan.

He'd gone on his first raid at 14 and made his first kill even earlier. He rose to the position of Raid Captain at 19, the youngest in the clan's history. His father was proud of him and as the eldest son he would inherit the position of Jarl some day. But as he accomplished more and was pushed to do more, something was missing. In his early 20's the man began to clash with his father on matters of policy and practice. He wanted to innovate, try things differently, but his father held on to the traditions and ways of his ancestors. The proud son resented being told what to do and how to think by his father, or so he perceived it, and increasingly chaffed at his position and even his name. This went on for several years and even began to become a source of tension within the clan as divisions started to brew between the young and older members.

Pherein continued to be a success, bringing in more plunder and suffering fewer casualties than any other captain not only in the clan but in the isles. As his fame grew, resentment built among some but the headstrong man cared not nor did anything to seek to defuse the growing tension. He began to care less, increasingly doing things his own way, further alienating him from his father and his mother who suffered in silence.

His mother had taught him the ways of Latrell, as she'd learned from her grandmother. As opposed to the bear of a man who was his father, with wild, flaming red hair and beard, his mother was petite, almost delicate being a 'mainlander' from Latrellus, as they'd always been close. Pherein was no 'mother's boy' nor was Askal Valisdotter weak. She had an iron will and could silence her fiery husband MacDiarmid Halvardson with one look of her piercing sky-blue eyes. But even Pherein's relationship with his mother changed in the ensuing years as the young man grew in status and arrogance. He could see it, he could see the harm he was causing his family and the broader clan, but he was like someone watching a drama unfold through the pane of a glass window. He couldn't seem to control what was unfolding but in truth he didn't really seem to want to. Tension became so thick the clan seemed unable to function and its very future seemed in question.

He remembered the day his mother came to it like it was yesterday.

"Pherein," his mother called to him as he sparred with two members of his raiding party saying his name with the tone in her voice that said she would brook no opposition.

"Mother," he replied with a curt nod, belligerently standing his ground though he knew he would cave to her and resenting it all the more.

"Let us go for a walk."

The pair had walked through one of the guarded gates to the town and into the foothills of the mountain range that hemmed the town in on the shore of the ocean. It was mid-spring, and the flowers and heather were just starting to bloom causing splashes of color on the backdrop of the blacks and dark greys of the jagged rocks all about.

"Your father and I are concerned about you, Pherein," his mother stated, getting straight to the point.

"You need not be," he shot back, frustrated by their 'concern' which he saw as control. "I am successful and bring honor to the clan."

"Do you?" Askal replied quietly then held her hand up firmly to block her son's coming retort. "How do you define success and honor, my love?"

"By the wealth I bring to Lothian, by the strength I give to our clan," Pherein shot back, his blood starting to boil.

"Those are important things, to be sure, but are they the only things?" his mother answered calmly, fixing him with a steely gaze from her deep eyes.

Pherein opened his mouth to retort but knew she was right. He'd been like a bull uncorralled and had kept pushing to quiet the small voice of condemnation that kept whispering in his ear. "I do everything for the clan, mother," he answered through gritted teeth.

His mother could see the conflict in her son, and she loved him for fighting to not succumb to the pride she saw growing in him. "Some day you will be Jarl."

"Do you not think I know that?" Pherein yelled back. "I am reminded by you, by father, by the elders almost every day." He stood there, quivering with emotion, then screamed, "Am I such a failure to you and father that I must constantly be told this?"

"My dear, dear Pher," his mother took his hand and stroked it soothingly, calling him the name only she would use. "You could not be further wrong. I am SO proud of you, my son, and so is your father. You have done so much for our family and for this clan. Songs of your success are sung about you in the Mead Hall and he gladly joins in."

"So then what is the problem?" Pherein countered, a slight quiver in his voice, emotions spent, fearing where this was going.

"You have become proud Pherein, with a pride that is destructive. It is like an acid that can destroy the strongest blade. If it were just that I would say nothing. You are young and have much to be proud of. But…"

"But what?"

"But it is causing tension in the clan. Arguments are breaking out, there is strife among families, we are becoming vulnerable to collapse from within."

"Because of me?" Pherein spat out haughtily but before the words had left his mouth the conviction of its truth was obvious.

"It is not just you, but you are a catalyst, yes." Valis stated, a sadness in her eyes Pherein had never seen and that broke his heart. "Many things are changing in the isles as they are in all of Apia. I fear the future without wise leadership."

"That I do not possess," Pherein answered, head down, not looking at his mother, fearing his heart would break.

"That you have yet to develop, my son."

"I will not be the cause of the ruin of that which I love most," Pherein declared and walked away from his mother and back to the city.

She tried to talk to him, to continue their conversation, but it was of no use. Her son had taken her intended challenge to rise to the occasion and develop that which she knew lay within and instead proudly closed the door to her counsel allowing emotion to overwhelm reason.

The next day Pherein claimed his right to 'Wanderlust', to go questing on his own. None stood in his way when he left, since it was a non-negotiable right of the people, but he had no quest in mind, he only wanted to get away.

That was four years ago, and he had not been back since. Many days he longed for his homeland but even more he longed to discover what his mother had seen in him, but he had not or had been too proud to put the work in to discover.

Pherein sighed heavily to himself as he walked through the sea of people in the busy market hustling and bustling, feeling alone in the world.