He tested the tea, “Mmmm…ahhh. That is good. More spice than I prefer, but then our tastes are not always aligned, are they?”
“Breandan!”
“What is that you have there? An original copy of Sintarian’s Conversations? I would not have thought to find that here. You’re not boring the boy with esoteric elvish mutterings are you?”
Valeria closed the manuscript and set it in her lap. “Breandan, why are you here?”
“Oh my, not one for polite conversation this morning. I’m not sure if you are aware, but someone was projecting from within the camp tonight. I fear we may have a spy among us.”
“Sebastian, you may go. Your squad will assemble shortly. The Challenge begins today.” He ran from the room.
#
The Challenge was a long-standing tradition for Gabirel. Before the Dragon Wars, the tournament might have lasted weeks or even a full month. With hundreds of recruits, discerning who was ready for advancement, and who was not, was a serious, long-lasting business. Now, with only a handful of squads, the bulk of the Challenge took place over a single week. Not only for raw recruits, every level of advancement within the Order of Gabirel depended on the Challenge.
At the highest levels, the masters gathered for their war-games; playing out scenarios devised by their peers and the High Council. Lord Marcello, well-known for his shrewd tactics, served as the primary arbiter of the war-games, along with Lord Commander Teoma. For the higher ranks, the Challenge judged mental agility and cunning in planning and executing battle plans. In that context, even losing a war-game did not equate to losing the Challenge.
For the squires, the Challenge tested their abilities across a full range of weaponry and skills, with a focus on tactics rather than strategy. Even still, defeating the enemy in front of you was not enough. Qualities such as teamwork, leadership, and even integrity were judged as part of the challenge. In the middle ranks the Challenge included skirmishes between units, often playing out and testing the strategies put forward in the war-master scenarios. If the tests for the war-masters polished diamonds, then the tests for the recruits strained out dross.
Normally, the squads were not informed that the Challenge was to begin. They would be informed at the morning assembly and immediately move into the tests. Sebastian made it back to the quarters just before muster, all that Mistress Valeria had told him running through his mind. He did not see how he could focus on the Challenge with so little sleep and so much to ponder.
He slipped back into his bunk moments before Jarmo Dale entered the barracks to wake his squad. As Sebastian expected, Dale sent them out to muster instead of morning mess. Around him, Sebastian’s fellow recruits grumbled at the orders even as they prepared to meet the day.
“What d’ya suppose this is all about?” hissed Martino. Sebastian shrugged, not willing to admit what he knew nor ready to talk about the strange turn his own evening had taken.
Martino would not have long to wait. Assembling inside the training grounds, the senior units joined the squadrons of recruits. A podium had appeared overnight along one side of the bailey. From his position in the ranks, Sebastian could see High Councilor Damianus, Lord Marcello, and Lord Commander Teoma atop the platform. Jarmo Dale took up a position in front of the corps of cadets, along with their instructors.
Each unit within the arsenal took up its specified position. Had this been one of the Challenges during the Dragon Wars, the entire tournament would occur on the Fields of Cranarion, due to sheer numbers. Now, even the cavalry assembled inside the walls of the Dazhberg. One of the smallest contingents, the sword-masters took up their position opposite the cadets. Without the military uniformity of the other units, the sword-masters each had their own style of armour and weaponry that suited them personally. Sebastian scanned the twenty or so faces, trying not to be disappointed that Krystelle had not returned.
With the troops assembled, Damianus rose to address them and the units came to attention. “Gabirel! Each year in times of peace we gather to take stock of our collective strength and judge ourselves. Once again that time has come. I exhort each one of you to invest yourselves in the coming week. You have trained and drilled, not for this hour, but for the hour when you must take up arms in defense of the principles Gabirel stands for and the human race. Not long past, you fought against the forces of the Krenon and the Dragon Guard and were defeated. Not by strength of arms, but by trickery and magic. In defeat, we must find new strength and determination to overcome. That must come from each one of you, from your heart on the field of battle. As you enter the Challenge, consider that this may be the last for some time. With Sterling Lex returned, Gabirel goes to war. Where will you stand? How will you fight? This Challenge will answer those questions. I give you Lord Commander Teoma.”
Teoma outlined in broad strokes the order of battle for the week which would alternate between recruit skirmishes and demonstrations from established units. Sword-play was on the agenda for the first day and the various contingents found their places around the edges of the makeshift arena as the sword-masters took the field.
The graceful dance of the sword-masters humbled Sebastian and left him awestruck. He had thought he knew something about the sword, but this display showed him how far he had to go. Of course, that was part of the point of the Challenge. The recruits needed a dose of humility now and again. In the end, a veteran sword-master named Quenden Blaine won the day in a series of spectacular matches. He would command a squad of sword-masters for the coming year and was eligible for elevation to the next rank. That promotion depended, in part, on a match with Swordmaster Raginald scheduled for later in the week, and his participation in the war-games.
Following the sword-masters, Teoma summoned the squires to the field. Drawing lots, each was matched with their opponent while the sword-masters caught their breath in anticipation of the duty to judge the cadets. That pattern would be the way of it throughout the week. The veterans would show their own valor and then stand in judgment of those training to join them.
For a moment, Sebastian feared he would pair with Martino again for the sword challenge. Looking over the chit his friend had drawn, Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief. That relief lasted until he realized he had been matched with Loanan Drest. If Sebastian had a nemesis amongst the squires, it would be Loanan. The third son of a minor lord from the country east of the capital, he had all the arrogance and half the wits of a noble with five times his stature. The one thing you could say was that he was good with a sword. Very good.
Facing off against Loanan, Sebastian saw the look of disdain in his eyes. He had made it well known that he believed commoners, such as Sebastian, beneath him. Swordmaster Raginald gave the command to begin, launching Loanan onto the attack. It was all Sebastian could do to keep Loanan’s practice blade from him. As their fight progressed, Loanan gave up several opportunities to strike.
With a start, Sebastian realized what was happening. Loanan was toying with him and taunting him as he reveled in his own superiority with the blade. A red haze rose in front of Sebastian’s vision and a fire kindled in his breast. He went on the offensive in a fury and a haze reminiscent of his battle with Gerlach Pwyll. Burning with anger he rained blow after blow on Loanan. There was no skill involved, just sheer brute force. The haze lifted as he stood over Loanan’s sprawled and broken body, two sword-masters rushing up to him, their own swords drawn.
“Hold Squire!” shouted the closest, causing Sebastian to pull back from a killing blow. “Lower your blade.” Looking around, Sebastian realized that the entire corps of cadets and the full assembly stared at he and Loanan., Sebastian lowered his sword, backing away from Loanan. The sword challenge was over.
Jarmo Dale stalked over to Sebastian as two healers rushed to check on Loanan. Embarrassed, Sebastian readied himself for the coming tongue lash. This was foremost an exhibition of skill—not an actual battle and all were expected to act with restraint and control. The murmuring amongst t
he assembled host surrounding him echoed in Sebastian's ears. Dale opened his mouth to launch the first volley when a blast of trumpets ringing in the air interrupted him.
All eyes turned toward the east, where an honor guard resplendent in reds and yellows rode into the camp on their white horses, polished armour glinting in the sunlight. The sigil of the king's eagle marked their shields and in their midst rode a grey-haired herald bearing the king’s staff. “Get back to your squad,” hissed Jarmo Dale. “We’ll deal with this later.”
Relieved as he was at the temporary reprieve, Sebastian found himself unable to tear his gaze from the herald as he trotted back to his unit. Something about the man's arrival disturbed Sebastian and he felt a hollowness rising in the pit of his stomach. It was the eyes he decided, they were empty. This was going to be trouble.
The assembly rearranged itself back into military formation as High Councilor Damianus made his way to the herald. Commander Teoma and Lord Marcello flanked him. In keeping with the polite fiction that Gabirel and Uriasz were not close allies; Darden, Valeria, and Breandan were nowhere in sight.
Coming to a halt just in front of the honor guard, the three council members waited as the herald climbed from his horse and stripped the white gloves from his hands. Passing them to a nearby page, along with the reigns of his horse, the man took stock of the assembled forces and whispered something to the head of his honor guard. The herald walked over to where Damianus waited while his guard formed a loose ring around them.
Whatever he said to Damianus when he approached did not sit well with the man. A scowl rose on his face and Sebastian saw a spark of fury rising. Before said a word, the herald pounded the king’s staff into the ground three times, signifying a missive from the king.
Stentorian voice echoing throughout the bailey, the herald began his declaration. “Knights of the Order of Gabirel and the High Council, harken this day the words of his Majesty King Ercanbald, Guardian of Cynneweald, Defender of Naevean. Under the terms of the Ban, a Writ of Censure has been issued, and the Council is hereby commanded to appear before the King at Cinaeth on winter’s night to answer charges. You are to bring no more than a score in escort for each member of the council as guard of honor and to bear witness. The Order of Knights is furthermore commanded to lay down their arms until such time as the Writ is suspended.”
“At Cinaeth before the King, the council will answer four charges contained in the Writ of Censure. First, Gabriel has defied both the Ban and the Treaty of Ha’vehl’on in removing the Eligius Ealadha from its place of sanctuary. Gabriel has violated the Ban a second time and has stolen the Eligius Muliach from the Dwarven Council in the Hallvard. Again, in defiance of reason, Gabirel has seized the Eligius Psuchia from the Krenon Brotherhood, violating the agreements yet a third time. Finally, Gabirel has refused outright the lawful demand to return the three Eligium into the hands of the Arch-mage Iacchus. Should the High Council of Gabirel fail to appear before the King at the appointed time, the Order will be declared outlaw, it’s leaders subject to death, and its followers and adherents anathema. So says King Ercanbald. Long live the king.”
Military discipline only went so far. At that last the stoic silence of the assembly broke in indignation and the herald rose his voice to overtop the angry shouts. Damianus held up his hand to silence the assembly. Such was the respect he held that every man and woman present fell silent. For a moment, he looked old and tired. Even at the end of Sterling Lex’s occupation of Dazhberg, Sebastian had not seen him so tired. He paused before speaking, choosing his words with care. “Long live the king,” he echoed. “The King’s Herald and his guard of honor are welcome here. The Seneschal will see to your needs and the provisioning of your mounts for as long as you remain.”
“We are enjoined to return to the king forthwith and shall depart in the morning with what message you may have for the king in response.”
Damianus nodded, relief evident in his face that they would not need to play host to this Herald for long. He turned to the assembly, “Given the King’s summons, I am suspending the Challenge. The High Council will meet in one hour’s time to consider these matters. You are dismissed.”
Sebastian slipped away in the ensuing chaos, not caring to return to the barracks with his cohort and face the inevitable questions and stares over his duel with Loanan. He had never heard of Iacchus. It had to be Sterling Lex, he was sure of it. He had faced Sterling Lex and been pursued by the sorcerer. Seen the change wrought in his friend, Cenric. Lex's machinations had not affected the rest of his squad so personally. The sorcerer was a myth and a rumor to them. A bogeyman to be feared. In contrast, Sebastian knew the reality they faced.
“Ahhh…young Sebastian, there you are.” Recognizing Breandan’s oily voice he froze, closing his eyes and hoping the wizard would keep moving and leave him alone. “That was interesting, very interesting. Was it not?”
Sebastian half-turned toward him, “You heard the Herald’s proclamation?”
The wizard took hold of Sebastian’s arm, dragging him along the boulevard. “But of course I did. You remember that theory I posited to you, I’m sure. It seems that the King must subscribe to the same belief I told you about.”
“Which belief would that be?”
“Why, Sterling Lex IS the rightful Arch-mage.”
“You believe the king knows this Iacchus is actually Lex?”
“I consider it likely that he does.” Sebastian had no response to that. To his mind the King’s decree acknowledged Sterling Lex. “A Writ of Censure is most serious, you know. Used only for the most serious violations of the Ban. The High Council must be in a state of near panic.”
“Maybe the King is just going along with Sterling Lex to bring the Council in to help him?” Sebastian protested. “Maybe he had no choice.”
“Oh, very good! Loyalty to the King and Gabirel. You’re trying desperately to see the best in everyone aren’t you? To hear people talk that’s more a trait of your friend Cenric than you. Or at least it was before his time with Sterling Lex.”
“Master Breandan, what is it you want of me?”
“Want of you? I want nothing of you young Sebastian, other than to be very wise in the coming days. The shape of our world is changing around us. I suspect you are a survivor, Sebastian, and I do not want to see you throw it away out of a misguided sense of loyalty.” Breandan paused and looked sideways at the boy, “They won’t let you go after your friend you know.”
Sebastian turned ashen, “How do you know about that?”
“Valeria told me of course. You don’t expect she would keep something so important from me, or from Master Darden? Mark my words, the council's focus on Sterling Lex will cause them to dismiss out of hand any notion of other purposes. I despair to think of the young lady languishing in a dwarvish prison.” Breandan stopped and Sebastian realized they had arrived outside the Aodhan Bret. “Ah, here we are. Why don’t you come inside and listen to the debate? I think you’ll find it most instructive. Trust me, no one will notice you there.” Still holding onto Sebastian’s arm, the wizard pulled him into the chamber.
#
With frustrated tears obscuring his vision, Sebastian fled from the High Council. He did not know what to think anymore. About Sterling Lex. About Gabirel and the High Council. About Breandan and Valeria. About the King. Most of all, about what he was going to do.
As Breandan had predicted, his presence in council had gone unnoticed while the debate raged, at least at first. The council had contemplated every possible scenario from agreeing to the terms of the Writ of Censure, to attempting prepare for a siege and fortify the Dazhberg, to disbanding the order and going into exile. There was no satisfactory solution.
Wandering through the halls, he could hear the intermittent whisperings of doubt and concern as he passed small knots of off-duty soldiers and on-duty servants. Speculation as to the council's decision was rampant. Sebastian knew, he had heard the decision made, but he did not wa
nt to discuss it with any of these strangers, nor even his fellow recruits. He knew he needed to discuss it with someone.
Once again he found himself outside the hospital. Although his earlier conversation with Cenric had not gone well, the boy was the only real friend Sebastian had in the Dazhberg with Krystelle gone. Stealing up to Cenric’s bed he passed the unconscious Loanan. Pausing there for a few moments, Sebastian looked at his rival. He was not sure what came over him, just that when the rage hit him he lost control. Reflecting on the last year, he was thankful that the rage at Loanan had not manifested further through his wild elven magic. The only thing worse would have been if Loanan had burst into flames there in the bailey. With one last glance, he pushed on into Cenric’s room where he found the boy sitting up and practicing his letters on a wax board. “Cenric, you’re looking well.”
With a broad grin on his face, Cenric set the board aside to greet his friend. “Sebastian, I’m glad you came back! Did you hear about the King’s Herald? I’m sure you did. You were in the proving ground at the Challenge when he arrived. What did you think about what he said? Do you think the council will do what the king wants? I am feeling a lot better. The healers say they will let me go soon and then I can get back to my studies. Great, isn’t it? One of the new wizards came by to see me and gave me this board. He said I could come see him once the healers let me go and he’ll teach me more. I’m really excited about that! But, what happened with the council? Tell me! And where is Krystelle? I haven’t seen her at all in some time. She came to visit before you did and I miss her a lot.” This was more like the old Cenric. It was a strange relief to Sebastian to hear the boy babble as he had before Sterling Lex had taken him.
“One question at a time Cenric! I’ll tell you everything.” Satisfied with that promise, Cenric settled back as Sebastian outlined what had happened in Council. In the end, they had decided not to follow the King’s directive exactly. Oh, they would go to Cinaeth at the appointed time. Instead of a simple honor guard, they would ride in full muster and bring the issue of Sterling Lex to a head, with force if needed. Lord Marcello was riding out that afternoon to carry a message to the disgraced Dragon Guard, hoping to enlist the support of the remnant of their forces. It was a move that spoke of desperation.
Eligium- The Complete Series Page 34
