“Have it your way and get ready to lose,” said Rex angrily as he turned to spot his sword and went to retrieve it. As soon as he had his sword in his hand he lunged at Trance ready to cleave him and win the match.
Trance was ready for him and swiftly unsheathed his sword and swung it up and caught Rex’s attack. Once more they were at each other using all of their skill to win. The crowd was now on their feet watching two up-and-coming master swordsmen and future knights and yelled their approval.
Trance knew how tired he was becoming and kept noticing that Rex was just as exhausted. Rex’s swings were increasingly reckless and wild so Trance knew that he had to be even faster with his defensive swings. Rex was so focused on beating Trance that it never occurred to him that he might open himself up for an attack from his opponent, and that is just what happened.
Trance saw his opening in an instant. Rex raised his sword overhead to swing a crashing blow on him and exposed his chest to Trance. Trance’s reaction was almost pure instinct. Instead of preparing for the block he swung his sword and scored the winning blow at Rex’s chest.
Rex was completely shocked. One moment he was prepared to deliver the decisive blow that would end the match and then felt Trance score. For an instant he didn’t think that the referees had seen the blow; however, his indicator light had gone scarlet and he knew that Trance had indeed scored. More rage filled him, as he was about to swing down anyway, when his arm was grabbed by one of the referees. Still very angry Rex turned to the referee and glared at him.
“That’s enough! You have lost. We have witnessed your actions and you are Marked. When you went after an unarmed opponent you showed yourself to be un-chivalrous. During the remainder of the tournaments we will be watching you and if you do anything remotely un-chivalrous you will be Slashed. Is that understood?” the head referee stated.
Trance was stunned at what he heard. A moment later his hand was raised as the winner and the crowd roared its approval. His heart pounded to the thrill of winning his first singles event at the tournaments. He felt his face flush and he pumped his arms as he began to truly celebrate. Trance suddenly found himself surrounded by his team and Corena. He was hugged by her as his team cheered for him till they almost lost their voices. There was one thing that he wanted to know. So when his team and Corena quieted down a bit, he had a chance to ask.
“Hey, what did the ref mean when he told Rex that he was Marked and could be Slashed?” he asked and looked for an answer.
“Well it means that Rex is in a bit of trouble. Marked means that he has been seriously warned about being un-chivalrous. It also means that he will be very closely watched the rest of the tournament. If they catch him doing anything that they determine to be un-chivalrous he will be slashed. Slashed means that he will automatically be demoted from being captain of his team and he will be warned that anything he does wrong will disqualify him and his team from the rest of the tournaments. Being Marked could also affect him when he becomes a knight. He might not get into the division that he wants,” explained Zam.
“Wow!” exclaimed Trance. He was blown away by the seriousness of what Rex had done. In a way he was so glad that he had not stooped to Rex’s level. It just wasn’t in him to go after him when he was unarmed. He knew very well that the match could have gone the other way when Rex got his sword, yet Trance had been confident that he could still hold off Rex. Just then he knew that he wouldn’t have to worry about how the rest of the tournaments would go. He would compete and do his best to show how chivalrous he was.
Chapter 23
The Peaceful Blockade
Three Boulthorian battleships pushed their barrier drives to the limit as they raced across space. Aboard each ship was stationed a full division of ninety-five knights. These three divisions were selected to carry out the mission of wiping out as many people as possible at the end of year tournaments on Caldar. These divisions of seasoned warriors had fulfilled every mission assigned to them. They were the rough equivalent of Golden Griffins. With cold efficiency they made their preparations for their mission.
Each ship had four weapon sharpening stations. Each station had four grinding wheels that were equipped with everything needed for each knight to sharpen his weapon. The electric-powered wheels whirled as knight after knight stepped up and sharpened his weapons. Swords, axes, maces, spears, and other weapons gleamed with deadly edges as each knight skillfully slid their blades against a spinning stone.
The archers went to the target rooms on each ship and checked out their bows. Most of the Boulthorian archers used compound bows with both war arrows and special hard pointed arrows that had small razor-edged barbs that were designed to penetrate armor. The archers walked away satisfied that they were deadly accurate and some even rubbed their fingers together in an unconscious gesture of readiness.
On the bridge of the lead ship, Carnus, Admiral Rattell sat on his throne like a command chair. He sat calmly as the command crew guided the ship swiftly toward their target. With a glance he spotted a screen that showed the position of Carnus in the lead, between Courak’s ship Volutus to his right and Coalar’s ship Wenth on the left.
He looked forward and reflected on the mission ahead. Their plan was fairly simple. They would sweep down upon Caldar and drop their landing vessels, which would contain General Bruise and his three divisions.
Bruise and his knights would run slaughter as many unsuspecting victims as possible. The assault on the main stadium where the tournaments were being contested would not take very long, maybe two or three hours. They would head back to their ships to take off toward the battleships in protective orbit and race back to Boulthora.
With a smug smile Rattell sat back in his seat and reflected that most of the ships that had brought all of the students and dignitaries to the tournaments were on the ground and only two battleships and four smaller frigates protected Caldar. The Caldarian ships were not as well armored or armed as they were. From all reports the Caldarians were very closely aligned with the Althorians and were more protected by the very well armored and armed Althorian ships. How fortunate that there weren’t many Althorian ships nearby. Rattell smiled more broadly at the thought that the representatives of the planets represented were content that nobody would come here and assault them at the tournaments. What fools!
A door slid open behind and to the left of Rattell. He turned around and saw General Bruise step onto the bridge. The look on that brutal face revealed that Bruise had been having similar thoughts as he was preparing to lead the mission on the approaching planet. Bruise casually touched the dark gray oval pommel of his sword, strolled to a position in front of the command chair and raised his right hand to his forehead and dropped to his side in salute.
Rattell stood and saluted back and motioned Bruise to follow him to a door to the right of the bridge. The door slid open, and there was a short hall that led to the sleeping rooms of the command crew. The two men entered the first of these rooms, which was Rattell’s personal room. It was quite large and divided into two sections. The larger of the two was his sitting room, and the smaller was his sleeping chamber. Rattell indicated a chair for Bruise to sit in and went to another chair and reclined.
“How are your preparations coming?” asked Rattell casually as he watched his friend’s brutal face relax from its usual fierce determined look.
“Our plans are going quite well. I don’t anticipate any difficulties once we land and storm the stadium,” replied Bruise in a cool relaxed voice.
“What do you honestly think about this mission?” Rattell asked seriously.
“Well, to be honest, there is little honor in it. We will slaughter them with absolute ease. There is little sport also in slaying all of those unarmed people. On a positive note none of those children competing in the tournaments will ever grow up and become a full fledged knight, let alone have one of them turn into this Griffin General,”
answered Bruise.
“So do you really think that one of these kids could grow up to be this Griffin General?”
“Are you asking if I believe in this prophecy about the Griffin General?” Bruise asked in return.
“I guess that I am. Personally, I’m not sure that I believe the prophecy. I’m not completely convinced that the prophecy is about to be fulfilled. Yet, the Sphinx sure seem to think that it is about to come about. I have never seen them around so much as now,” said Rattell with a note of concern in his voice.
Bruise sat back and took a moment to formulate his answer. “I don’t know if the prophecy is about to pass or not. I just know that we are in serious trouble if it comes about. However, I believe that even if, and I truly mean if, one of these kids grows to become the Griffin General or he comes from someplace else, he will be no match for our forces. My knights are the most elite on Boulthora. As for the Sphinx, we have no use for them. We don’t need their help or allegiance. We are the real power in the galaxy and we should be the ones ruling and expanding our empire.”
“You may be right about the Sphinx. I don’t care for them either. Yet for now we need them and their intelligence. Once this conflict with Althora is over the other planets will fall one by one and then we can look to overthrowing the Sphinx. My loyalty is to my king and fellow Boulthorians, and if Axlor wants me to fly you to Caldar and assist you in this slaughter, I obey.”
“Those are my sentiments as well. How soon will we arrive at Caldar so the assault may begin? My men and I are getting an itch we can’t wait to scratch,” replied Bruise as he stretched and stood up.
“We should be arriving in about three hours. I can tell that the barrier drive is settling down and we will begin to slow back to battle speed. Soon, my friend, you and your men will be able to scratch that itch of yours, and the end of this prophecy,” said Rattell as he rose. Both men clasped hands and headed for the door. In the hall Bruise turned his steps to head back toward the practice rooms to stay loose for the mission. Rattell returned to the bridge and resumed his seat in the command chair and felt more relaxed as he watched his command crew work their controls.
An hour passed as Rattell sat in his command chair and relaxed as the bridge crew flew the ship with utter calm. The crew knew their duties extremely well, for they were the best crew in the Boulthorian fleet. With expert skill they manned their systems and monitored the ship as well as scanning the space around them. All was going as planned. As the following hour passed Rattell got more into his usual battle-ready state of mind. His crew knew his moods and as he got up and stretched and paced the bridge, they focused more on their scanners and systems.
Then as the Boulthorian battleships were three-quarters of an hour away, a Lieutenant monitoring one of the forward scanning systems made an announcement. “Sir, I am picking up a large ship in orbit around Caldar.”
“That’s probably one of the pathetic ships guarding their planet. If it is there in our way, we’ll blow them away,” Rattell replied in a voice that was not troubled by the possibility of a Caldarian ship ahead of him.
However, the Lieutenant continued to study his monitor screen and his face started to change as he saw more ships appearing in the space around Caldar. In fact, from what he was seeing it appeared even from this distance that there were more ships around Caldar than the four that they were expecting. Finally as he checked and rechecked his monitor and turned to Rattell. “Ah, sir, I have a new report.”
“What is it,” said Rattell getting slightly aggravated about having his concentration being broken.
“Well sir, I have checked and rechecked my monitor, and I believe that there are more ships around Caldar than what we expected.”
“Oh, how many ships are there? You don’t have anything to fear. Our ships are more advanced and armed than theirs,” Rattell boasted.
The lieutenant checked the monitor one more time and shook his head before turning to give his commander the report. “Sir, there appear to be over fifty ships in the area we’re heading toward. In fact they are directly in line with us, and they aren’t Caldarian ships.”
Rattell was taken by surprise by the report. Why were there suddenly so many ships around Caldar? Where had they come from and why were they there? Could this prophecy be true? Could the Althorians know and want to protect the upcoming Griffin General? “There are over fifty! What kind of ships are they?”
The lieutenant took a deep breath and gave his report. “Ah sir, they’re not Caldarian or Althorian. It looks to me to be a blockade of Griffin Galleons.”
“Griffin Galleons,” stated Rattell, stunned and sitting back in his seat. His mind began to reel. Why in the universe were there that many Griffin ships around the planet? The Griffins usually didn’t send out their Galleons unless they were on a serious military mission. What would bring them here? The Griffin king himself usually didn’t even leave their home world of Graffes. This was extremely unusual.
“Sir, I can confirm the lieutenant’s report,” said a major, looking at his monitor. “My scope shows that there are in fact fifty-five Griffin Galleons as well as seventy smaller ships. Most are more Griffin ships; however, there are quite a few coming up that are Caldarian, Althorian, Venthurian, and various other craft.”
Rattell mulled this information in his mind for only a couple of minutes before he stood up and headed for his cabin. Once in his room Rattell went to the far wall and pushed a button that activated a desk and kytherum, the communication monitor. He then immediately pulled up his chair and sat and signaled Courak and Coalar. “As you have no doubt noticed, we have a rather serious problem.”
“Yes, we noticed,” commented Courak. “Now the issue at hand is what do we do? There’s no way we can get to the planet with that many ships against us. And it would be suicide to try to stand and fight.”
“I agree with Courak, it appears that our mission is bust. Personally I would relish the opportunity to take on a Griffin Galleon; however, I will not sacrifice myself or my ship and crew to assaulting this armada. My suggestion is that when we drop into regular space that we say that we are on a rescue mission and that we bluff our way to heading back home,” said Coalar.
Rattell thought about what the other two had said before speaking again. “You have both given some good thoughts. I hate the fact that for the first time in a very long time I won’t be able to even start a mission, let alone fail. What really bothers me is why they are here in the first place. The Griffins usually stay near the nest and don’t bring out their galleons unless they really mean business.”
“That’s true,” Coalar replied. “I don’t know why they are here, yet here they are. Now the issue is what do we do? My suggestion still stands.”
Courak took only a moment of consideration before he agreed. “I think that Coalar has a good idea. When we drop out of the barrier drive we tell the Griffins that we are heading for a rescue mission, and then we get out of here and head back home.”
Begrudgingly Rattell had to agree with his two fellow commanders. “Axlor will be furious with us. I have to agree that if we attempt to continue this mission we will be destroyed before we get one ship down on the planet and even if we get a division of troops down on the planet they’ll have knights down there waiting for them and our men will be cut off and slaughtered. We must get out of this and head back home. Perhaps we’ll have another opportunity to go after the Althorians and try to get rid of anyone that aspires to be the Griffin General. I will speak for us. Now I have to notify Bruise. I will talk to you after we are on our way back.”
Courak and Coalar saluted Rattell and signed off. In the moment of silence that followed Rattell put his hand to his forehead and tried to think of what to say to Bruise and then what he should say to the Griffins. He removed his hand from his head and activated the console again as he signaled Bruise.
Bruise sat silent for sever
al minutes as Rattell filled him in on the armada surrounding Caldar and about his discussion with Courak and Coalar. In the end Bruise had to agree with the three. “This is horrible. We were so close to getting our knights on the planet and possibly eliminating this threat to us and now we have to turn around and wait for another shot.” Angrily he paced out of the frame of Rattell’s kytherum’s screen. A moment later he reappeared and seemed to have calmed himself. “What are you going to tell the Griffins?”
“I will tell them that we are on our way to a rescue mission. They ought to buy that and let us go.”
“What if they don’t buy it? What do we do then?” responded Bruise.
“If it comes to that then we’ll engage them and battle for our lives and try to take out as many of them as we can.”
“Let it be so,” Bruise said angrily. He was still steaming even though he knew that there wasn’t anything he could do about this situation. In a way he almost wished that he’d had his way, that there was a whole fleet on this mission and that when they dropped to normal space speeds they could just engage the enemy and fulfill their mission. “Let me know what happens when you talk to them and when we are on our way back.”
“I will do that,” Rattell replied, “Let your men know that they have access to the practice rooms to work out their frustrations. You may use them as well.” Rattell saluted his friend and clicked off the communicator. He felt for his friend and he knew that Bruise was incredibly frustrated. There just wasn’t anything that they could do. With only three ships they didn’t stand a chance. Maybe someday he would command a fleet and he would be free to engage his enemies.
Bruise sat only for a moment as the communicator screen went dark and then in an instant rose and strode from his room. He brushed past several knights on his way to the nearest practice room. Upon entering the room he drew his sword and as men swept out of his way he drove his sword into and through a practice dummy.
Space Knights: The Arrival Page 29
