by Thomas Adams
Brandt looked at the Master askance. So, he would have to fight two Masters, in the dark, underground with uneven and slippery footing. No problem he thought sarcastically to himself. At least it would be a challenge. “No Master. No questions.” He replied evenly.
“Good. Take your position by the column all the way in the back of the hall.”
Brandt stalked off. He observed as much as he could before they took away most of the light. He could use the columns to his advantage. Keep his back up against them as he tried to fight both men. He could use the wall the same way. Somehow he needed to ensure he kept both men to his front. Letting them get on his sides or behind him would be a disaster. But, he also needed to be bold and take the initiative away from his older more experienced adversaries. That would be totally unexpected. If he sought them out and used his quickness he may have an advantage and be able to quickly finish one of the men off before the other could engage. He closed his eyes to speed the transition of his night vision.
He decided he would use a technique he learned in the archives when he was recovering from his injuries. It was designed strictly for night fighting. It was very old. He was not sure where it originated or who had created it. The form was difficult as you used it from a very wide and low stance and frequently went to your knees. He knew the rough surface would be hard on his knees for sure. He also decided to use the columns and the back corners to keep the fight in the dark and make his opponents move to him. Then he would seize the initiative and go on the attack but try to stay in the darkest part of the hall.
He heard the command to begin and slowly opened his eyes. The lights were out except for a feeble glow where the masters stood in their corner, near the front by the doorway. They must have turned the last lantern all the way down as well. He focused and used his hearing to track his opponents. They moved very quietly and slowly. One was coming up each side of the central columns. They would try to flank him right away. Instead of moving behind the rear column he silently crept into the rear-most corner of the room, opposite the light.
He assumed his opening position and waited. They came around the last column and expected him to be there on the backside of it. He wasn’t. They looked around in vain. He could barely see anything and his eyes were adjusted better than theirs. The darkness was near absolute back here. He sensed their confusion, their hesitation. He reached out with his archania and could feel the indecision. He waited. They slowly moved about. They were checking to see if he’d slipped past them somehow.
When the fighter on his right turned his back again to him Brandt moved slowly along the right wall, in the shadows still, closer to the man. He kept both men to his front and when he sensed he was within ten feet he moved with all his speed. The Master suddenly felt him coming and spun to meet him. Brandt’s sword struck the other man’s blade but in the dark his opponent had barely even parried. The man was off balance and trying to compensate. Brandt struck twice more in the span of a second or two. The man back pedaled furiously as Brandt struck again and again. The other fighter was coming up on Brandt’s left fast.
Brandt’s low stance, his speed and the darkness were his strengths. The opponent to his front was struggling and failing to adjust. Brandt slid further to his right and went to his knees with a low sweep at his opponent’s legs. His opponent barely dodged and slipped again on the slimy floor, off balance yet again. Now the opponent to his front was also in front of Brandt’s second opponent. The newcomer could not engage without striking his partner and would be forced to maneuver to either side of the other man to get into the fight.
Brandt, still on his knees as the man to his front struggled to recover his balance, deftly hooked his hand axe behind the struggling man’s ankle and jerked his leg out from under him. The man fell backwards and went down hard. Brandt heard his breath explode from his lungs as he hit the hard stone. Brandt then used his axe to deflect the fallen fighter’s weak counter thrust and drove his opponent’s sword down and to the left where he trapped it with hand axe.
Almost simultaneously Brandt shot a lighting quick jab at the second opponent moving up and around the fallen fighter. The second man was turned and trying to maneuver to Brandt’s right to engage him and was totally unprepared for Brandt’s thrust to his side. His shield was out of position and his sword on the far side of his body. Brandt’s thrust struck true and he pulled it not wanting to kill the man. That man was out. Blood was drawn. Now he drew his sword back and held it pointed at the man on the ground afore him.
“Do you yield?” he asked calmly. He wasn’t even winded. It was over so fast.
The fallen fighter cursed and said, “Aye, I yield!” The match was over. Brandt rose to his feet and helped the other man up. The Masters called a halt and approached with their lanterns open. The gloom fled. They checked everyone out and declared the match over. Brandt had won it handily.
His final test was over and he’d passed! He was a Sword Master now! There would still be an official declaration but he knew he’d done it. He was so happy and relieved. The pressure and stress had been intense. All the years of struggling and training had paid off. He’d just become the youngest Sword Master ever. Now the celebration could begin!
***
The Emorie soldiers of the three cohorts that were tasked to oversee the city of Rola were assembled in formation outside their barracks. Their new commander, walked out of his quarters and approached the formation. None of the soldiers knew much about the new commander. He appeared professional and had a no-nonsense bearing. He held a military orders scroll in his hand. They were easy to tell from other scrolls because the ends of the scroll were red.
No one else in the entire empire was allowed to use the same colors on their scrolls. And, every soldier in the legions of the Imperia knew what such a scroll meant, new orders. The commander rolled open the scroll and began to read to the assembled troops. His voice was clear and authoritative. Most of the men were only half listening until they heard the part about assembling dead bodies. That got their attention. They all perked up and tried to figure out what the new directives were.
Apparently, the new order was for the soldiers in Rola to round up the remaining slaves not of military age or males, form work details and have the slaves gather up all of the dead bodies from the revolts, the failed impressments and even those that had recently died of natural causes. If needed the bodies were to be exhumed. The prisons were to be emptied as well. All prisoners were to be summarily executed, immediately. Unless, they were men of military age and of good health, they were to be spared. The living men would be impressed and sent to Crestia for immediate military service. The executed were to be put with the other ‘gathered’ dead. Then, all of the dead bodies were to be placed in a cool dry location until an official of the government arrived to take charge of them.
The soldiers were used to strange and bizarre orders but this was beyond the pale. Nothing about this new order made the slightest bit of sense. No one was sure about the intent of these orders but they knew they would have to execute them. The collective sigh of resignation and disgust was audible as the commander finished reading and rolled up the scroll. Even the commander’s voice, by the end of the reading of the new orders, had lost its’ normal confident tone.
The commander turned and hurriedly marched back towards his quarters. He would let the centurions handle this new set of tasks. He wanted nothing to do with it. For the hundredth time since taking this new posting he wondered what was going on in the capitol. Had their leaders lost their minds? Every sennight brought new orders that were worse than the previous ones. Insanity ruled their empire now.
Chapter 25
New Oaths
Dreams and Memories
Brandt did not think it a good start to say the least. The new girl, her name was Yfiria he’d been told, said she was a princess. He thought she was joking. So, he was less than respectful for someone of her rank. She quickly made it known that she did not like
his jokes, his attitude and she made it clear she was a ‘real’ princess and she expected him to stand and bow whenever she entered the room.
She was full of herself he thought, so proper and aloof, as if she was better than everyone else. Her arrival heralded change and he was not certain he liked that. She swept out of the hall and up the stairs with her haughty gaze trained on him. As soon as she was gone he made a face at her back and laughed. And, it took all of Aravin’s servants to carry her trunks and bags up the stairs to her room. Who needed that much stuff? It got worse after that.
She was certainly pretty enough to be a princess he thought. She seemed to be angry with him quite a bit. And, she had black hair. He had never seen black hair afore and he stared and stared until the girl turned and snapped at him, “I get it. You have never seen hair like this before! It is just hair! Leave off it!”, and she stormed off with her maid.
He didn’t see the new girl the rest of the day until last meal because Ridynar had him running and crawling and jumping all afternoon. By last meal he was starving. He smiled shyly at her. He noticed her eyes, he had vivid blue green eyes and they flashed and churned with color like waves in a sea storm, or so he imaged having never even seen the sea.
***
The Haugar and Revekna made their way into the throne room. A chilling silence followed them. The human subjects, those that could even manage to be in attendance to Arngrim, were still and wane, fear pinched features evident. There was a majesty and power to a group of undead the Kûnnabani thought as it watched them approach his throne. Humans did not have this presence or force to their persons.
The undead were there to report on the results of the operation to destroy the rebellion. The Kûnnabani was impatient to hear the results. The most powerful of the Haugar stepped forward from the group and ran through a summary of the past sennights’ activities.
Over five hundred and fifty men and women that were the main antagonists were destroyed. Twenty nine loyal soldiers had died in the action as well. A further three hundred and ten rebels had been captured and were being transported to the main prison in Crestia. A further two hundred and sixteen people were wounded in the fighting. Thirty eight of those were soldiers from the legion that conducted the raids. The wounded soldiers were taken to the hospices for treatment. Most should recover and would be sent back to their cohorts when able. The wounded rebels were being held for now but many would die of their wounds.
The Kûnnabani was not concerned with the wounded rebels and told the Haugar to order their immediate execution. They would not waste resources on saving rebels. Their lifeless husks would be reanimated and join his undead army’s ranks. After the report was concluded Arngrim dismissed the lieutenants and ordered the chamber cleared. It needed time to think and the human subjects annoyed it more than naught.
Now, Arngrim thought, all it needed to do was wait a few days and see if the rebellion continued or if the root of it was gone, ripped from the ground. If all went as expected there would be no more rebellion and the distractions from the preparations for the invasion would cease. And, if all remained quiet in Crestia for the next sennight or two it would order three of the four legions securing Crestia to march north immediately. They would join the five already in place or in route to Mount Cinder. The training of the conscripts and slaves would conclude in a fortnight as well. It would send them north as well with a massive supply train. They would meet up with the siege train from Kitar and escort that north to the main encampment southeast of Cinder.
The Kûnnabani would also move the dead army north but leave one Haugar and five thousand dead along with one legion to hold Crestia in its absence. That should sufficiently mollify and terrify the population and the remaining government officials. The Haugar would have free reign to intimidate and clamp an iron fist around the city and the other provinces of the empire. If any resisted they would be destroyed. There would be no resistance left to challenge the new order it had established.
Now, on to the last matter at hand, Jan Brandt Rodull, the Kûnnabani wanted to ensure the hated son of the light did not make it to Fortress Cinder. It mattered not if the boy was king or prince or jarl when he came to Cinder. He could not be allowed to reach Cinder and bolster the defense. That was paramount to its master’s plans. Cinder had to fall and quickly. The Kûnnabani called three Revekna to it and told them to go to the Pass of Fire and wait for Brandt. When he came through the pass on his way to the fortress the Revekna would ambush and assassinate Brandt.
***
Traditionally, at Reave Hall, the Masters’ Ceremony was held at the end of summer. This year, due to the mobilization, it was held three days after the trials were completed. Those that achieved Master were recognized. Normally, some were allowed to stay on and work on other skills and additional qualifications. Most went out into the world as krigers to make their mark. The remaining students that did not pass and the younger students were released to return to their homes for a moon. But, there would be no homecomings this year. With an uncertain war looming in the near future none were allowed to leave the Hall. All would be needed for the war with the Emorie.
A shorter and simpler ceremony would be held this year. Brandt was still undecided what he would do after the ceremony. He thought about it constantly but he was no closer to a decision. Master Ivar wanted him to graduate and stay on, at least until the war began, for additional Grand Master studies. Brandt was not sure but trusted Ivar’s council. Master Grovan said he would be ready any day for the Axe trials.
He had hoped Aravin or Rumborg would send word of what he was supposed to do next. But, no word had come from either of them. Without their guidance he felt he had limited choices and was leaning towards staying at Reave Hall. If the Emoire attacked he would join the King’s Army and go to Cinder and defend his people and land. He did not think it wise to go to Kimera and claim the throne until he had word from Aravin or Rumborg. Nor, did he have any idea on how he would even achieve such a thing without their guidance.
At the graduation ceremony all of the new Masters would swear the Guild oath and receive their first Audr Hringr, Reave Hall’s arm ring. It was a noble achievement. With the Gathering still ongoing there would be a celebration feast after the graduation ceremony. Brandt felt honored to have so many of his sisters and brothers present for this event. For now he focused on the axe and the upcoming ceremony. He felt ready and he would test with the axe tomorrow. For him, the future would remain uncertain for now.
***
For the Master’s Ceremony Brandt stood with ten other young men and women in front of a host of krigers, soldiers and other spectators. There were easily a thousand in attendance. The courtyard of the Hall was filled, wall to wall. The new Masters standing in front of the assembled group had completed their requirements for Master of the Sword or Axe. The others on the dais with Brandt were all older than him by at least a year or more. Brandt had achieved mastery of both axe and sword. He would be the only double Master today and the youngest in the history of the Guilds.
Grand Master Ivar and all the other Reave Hall Grand Masters and Masters currently teaching at Reave Hall were assembled by the Hall’s main portico. Then, with a word from Ivar, they solemnly filed up to the dais and stood next to the new Masters. Grand Master Ivar stepped forward and raised his hand for silence. As the Hall’s Chief Grand Master he would preside over the ceremony. Jarl Gustave Greyvale, his family and his housecarls were in attendance as well. Several officers from the army garrison were also in attendance.
Ivar stood before the crowd and waited. Once everyone was quiet he began the ceremony with the same words that were spoken for two hundred years and for the thousands of krigers that had achieved this same honor at Reave Hall. Master Ivar spoke of the honored history of the Hall, the rigorous and demanding training, and finally the duty and responsibility of the kriger. When he was done he called the former students forward and asked them to take the Guild oath.
They
all did so. Then one at a time he called them up, introduced each student and put the Hall’s copper Audr Hringr on each person’s right bicep. When it was Brandt’s turn, he was called last, Master Ivar held up a hand for silence again and said, “I present the youngest Master of the Sword and Axe, ever, Brandt of Clan Rodull.”
The packed courtyard was as silent as a tomb as Master Ivar locked the arm ring around Brandt’s bicep. Ivar gave Brandt a quick grin and turned back to face the crowd. Brandt was now formally the youngest man or woman to ever achieve the title of Master of the Axe and Sword and to become a sworn kriger. It was a tremendous accomplishment and honor. But the awesome silence that swept the field was not for the lad’s achievements but due to the use of the Rodull clan name.
Most in the assembled body were stunned by Ivar’s introduction of Brandt. They stared at both of them in confusion. Surely it was a mistake. Everyone in Vesfal knew the name of Rodull. That was the clan of the last royal house. It was the king’s clan. No one had claimed that clan and house for over a hundred years. All of the Rodulls were dead. Now, this boy before them was named a Rodull? How was this possible?
For such a bold announcement, there was no vocal challenge of Ivar’s statement. However, the looks and the unspoken questions were still there. Most of the krigers had heard about Brandt’s three sword bouts, the way in which they were finished and the incredible skill the young man had demonstrated in each test. It was baffling that one so young could be so good. But now, it was also attributed that he was of the king’s bloodline? After almost a full minute of quiet, a cacophony of voices swelled throughout the assembled body. The noise level rose to a dull roar as questions, speculation and commentary flew back and forth among the krigers.
