The Mercenary Code

by Emmet Moss

  “You never fail to surprise me…” she whispered, lightly touching his tender cheek. “I would have been proud to be your Second.”

  “Let it go,” Gavin replied coldly and shied away from the touch. He could not trust himself in the matter of this woman he may have once loved, and might still.

  “And who would you have replace your men? Who will you choose to sacrifice in their stead?” she mocked.

  “I will fight two battles for you. A higher risk to my own life in return for the safe passage of my men.”

  “My father may not approve of such a request,” she mused.

  “You are the Koriani First. Is the choice not yours? That is, unless the Council now controls the matters of the sword, as well as the arcane?” Gavin provoked. He expected that an affront to the woman’s pride would clinch the matter.

  “Fine,” Brynne replied hotly. “But there remains the choosing of the combatants.”

  “I leave that task in your capable hands,” he smiled. “You know as well as I that the Koriani will be very interested in such a contest. They will remember my skills with a blade and will be curious to see what the world has done to them.”

  “And Surefoot?” she asked.

  “Orn has chosen his own fate. On the morrow, the gods will decide whether he walks from the yard.”

  “Then it is decided. The morning may very well spell your end, Silvares,” she nodded formally. Pausing a moment longer, Brynne Wolien walked gracefully away from Gavin, leaving him with a final word.

  “I would have gone with you,” she said without turning around.

  “I know…” he replied after she had disappeared from view.

  Bider arrived early at the battleground with the rest of the Fey’Derin. The field bordered the edge of the town in a clearing weathered by the tread of hundreds of soldiers. What little grass remained was flattened down into the earth, and the cold weather had left the field hard and well-suited to the fast movements of a duel.

  Bider was surprised by the incredible number of Dragon Mount citizens arriving to watch the dangerous spectacle. The mages were gathered together with looks of superiority clearly written across their features. The stone-faced Koriani soldiers were impressive in their black uniforms. A large ragtag collection of artisans, farmers, and labourers had also arrived to witness the duels. Without realizing it, the Fey’Derin soldiers had pressed together, each grey-cloaked man finding comfort in the presence of his companions.

  Word was circulating in the crowd about a change in the usual format. Bider and the others reacted with dismay when told of the bargain the captain had brokered. Orn and Gavin were to fight, but Ethan and Eör had been spared. Captain Silveron was a master with the blade, but battling two Koriani of the First’s choosing would likely be an impossible task to overcome.

  Bider’s thoughts were interrupted as Gavin and Orn Surefoot arrived. Thankfully, Bider noticed, the scout appeared sober. They were accompanied by several Koriani guards and a young woman of striking beauty. It was this woman that stepped from the procession into the clearing and addressed the assembled host.

  “May the gods watch over the men who will do battle this day,” she cried out. “Three strikes for the victor. May their clash be just and mercy left behind. A Blood Challenge has been issued, and you shall all bear witness!”

  The crowd roared its approval, the Koriani especially lending their voices in support of the coming fight. The Fey’Derin on the other hand, Bider was pleased to see, held their tongues. They stood stoic and silent, knowing full well the stakes on this cold grey morning.

  “First Challenge! Orn Surefoot against the Koriani Seventh.” Brynne announced, the named combatants taking to the field.

  Orn was surely overmatched. The talented veteran had never been one to enjoy the lure of the training yard. He was a scout; stealthy, agile and capable with a variety of weapons. He was known for his prowess with the longbow, but was by no means as skilled with the sword he now held in his right hand. He had opted to forgo a shield and instead carried a long knife in his left hand. From experience, Bider knew it was the weapon Orn felt most comfortable wielding.

  His Koriani opponent was a tall whip-thin man who bounced lightly as they circled each other. He wore light leather armour and brandished a long sword that looked deadly in the morning light. His movements expressed a sense of speed and seasoned dexterity. Bider expected him to be deft with his blade, and hoped that Orn would do well to end the battle as quickly as possible.

  Orn immediately attempted a few searching thrusts that were easily deflected as the men circled each other for the third time. After another turn, the scout grinned at his counterpart like a man with nothing to lose, and backed away from their dance. He lowered his weapons, and yet his eyes never strayed from his enemy. In rapid response, the black-garbed soldier launched himself forward in a dazzling blur, hoping to take advantage of his position.

  It is a wonder that Orn survived that first assault. The second weapon served him well as he desperately parried the flashing long sword, but he could only hold off for so long, and first blood went to the Koriani. As the two men disengaged, it was apparent that one of the blade’s thrusts had slipped past Orn’s guard and scored a hit along his side. His grin was replaced by a grimace, and a dark stain soon appeared along his ribs.

  The next few minutes passed quickly as Orn played a defensive game, scarcely keeping his opponent’s sharp blade from striking his body. Twice he pushed forward and lunged towards an opening in the Koriani’s defenses, and yet both times his attacks were blocked. During the exchange, a second slash had opened a long gash across Orn’s right leg, and the Fey’Derin scout struggled to maintain his balance.

  With a sinister look in his eyes, the Koriani Seventh pushed his advantage. Bider struggled to comprehend Orn’s resilience. The scout should be dead, and yet he parried the incoming flurry of blows successfully and retreated. He was breathing heavily, and the first wound bled freely, soaking his side and hampering his movement. His opponent showed no mercy, and Bider looked on with concern, knowing full well the soldier could finish off his friend almost at a whim.

  Orn dodged the first two swings of the next attack and moved inward to counter with his knife. The crowd watched the maneuver and realized the older scout, if he could block the Koriani’s descending swing, may very well be able to slide past the guard and strike true. As Orn pushed off the hard muddy ground, his wounded leg finally gave out and he stumbled. The thrust that should have been blocked glanced off his sword and bit deeply into his shoulder. With a cry, Orn Surefoot toppled to the ground.

  “Third blood!” Captain Silveron yelled immediately. The Koriani soldier had paused with his sword raised high above his head, clearly intent upon finishing the fallen scout.

  “By the gods, he played your game and survived!” the captain declared.

  Brynne Wolien locked eyes with Gavin, and for what seemed like an eternal moment, no sound other than the heavy breathing of the two combatants could be heard. Finally, the Koriani First acquiesced, motioning her warrior away from the defeated Fey’Derin.

  “As you wish, Captain,” she offered slyly. “In any case, yours is the battle we have all come to witness.” Turning to the assembled crowd, she called out triumphantly, “Second bout: Gavin Silvares of the Fey’Derin challenges the Koriani Fifth!”

  The captain was dressed in his company leathers and carried only his long sword. He held no shield nor had he opted to wield a second weapon. Speed, Bider surmised, would be essential for the upcoming contest. Gavin’s eyes betrayed no emotion, and his focus was only on his opponent.

  The Koriani Fifth was a hulking man, dark-eyed and calm in the face of such danger. He held his much larger blade securely in his hands. The broadsword would be slower than the captain’s, but would deal a greater amount of damage were it to make contact.

  As t
he two men met each other and initiated the first few searching thrusts, it was clear that both soldiers had spent significant time training over the years. The Koriani Fifth would likely have bested any of the Fey’Derin with the possible exception of Lieutenant Burnaise and Sergeant Shade. The man was quick for his size and immediately pressed his height advantage over his smaller opponent.

  The captain was graceful on his feet and dodged the first few blows as if performing an intricate dance. He used lightning quick jabs with several feints in the hopes of catching the larger man off guard. He was easily the faster of the two, and looked to exploit his adversary’s lesser dexterity. With a loud cry, the Fey’Derin company cheered as Captain Silveron slid past an overextended slash and scored the first hit of the bout.

  Gavin could hear the rumble of discontent among the assembled Koriani faithful as his blade found flesh. The wound, albeit a minor one, was well placed. The slight gash across the Fifth’s arm would bleed down his bare arms and wreak havoc on his sword grip. A bloody hilt would mean an extra advantage over the course of the battle.

  Gavin didn’t recognize his Koriani opponent. During his years spent at Dragon Mount, he had familiarized himself with the majority of the power players of the fortress, and yet he could not place the warrior who once again attacked with a calm ferocity. The right to claim the title of one of the Koriani Ten was an honour hotly contested. The man before him had great skill, but was untried. Ultimately, he fought well, and had obviously been trained for just such an occasion.

  Gavin often argued that the Silveryn Order’s soldiers were exceptional students of war, but had never received the practical experience required to mold them as a unit. They fought as individuals, a characteristic that would doom them in open warfare where the rules could change in an instant. Great soldiers could break under pressure, and even the most talented and skilled swordsman could be overwhelmed by a score of middling opponents. The Koriani, Gavin expected, would be lost if they ever chose to enter the mercenary battles of Caledun.

  The battle raged back and forth across the field with both men attacking and defending in a blur of speed. Gavin’s experience came to the fore when he noted the slight dip of the Fifth’s left shoulder before he attacked to the right. Timing his move with the Koriani’s feint, Gavin spun, bypassing the outstretched stab of the broadsword and slicing the man deeply across the back as they switched sides. A second cry of dismay echoed from the crowd. The Koriani Fifth was the favourite against this upstart captain from the North, and much coin had exchanged hands in wagers. Others, Gavin noticed, reacted as expected once word revealed who this captain truly was. Silvares was a name known to all at Dragon Mount.

  Gavin gambled on a reverse parry, allowing his blade to slide down the length of the opposing broadsword until both hilts were tightly locked. Without hesitation, he withdrew a hand and reached forward as if in an effort to pull the Koriani’s sword from his grasp. The Fifth, clearly the stronger of the two men, ignored Gavin’s right hand and shifted the full weight of his mammoth frame in an attempt to overwhelm the Fey’Derin captain’s weakened grip. Continuing with the surprise tactic, Gavin dropped his sword and the sudden loss of counterbalance threw the Koriani off kilter. Taking full advantage of the opening, Gavin quickly drew a small dagger from his belt and traced the knife along the warrior’s unprotected flank. Blood welled up from the wound as the Fifth tried to maintain his balance.

  “Third Blood!” Gavin called out.

  Amidst a chorus of boos and curses from the locals, Brynne stood up and raised her hands in a sign for calm and order. Eventually the yelling subsided. Once silent, she motioned the second combatant forward. “Final Challenge. Captain Silveron of the Fey’Derin versus the esteemed Koriani Second!”

  An excited murmur rippled through the mob as a broad-shouldered muscular man with a dangerous tint in his eyes entered the clearing. Gavin recognized his opponent immediately, discerning that this next duel would be hard fought. Enias Traihelm was only a summer younger than Gavin, and the two men had often sparred together as they had both risen through the Koriani ranks. They had never been friends, but there had always existed a mutual respect between the two.

  Enias was cruel, ambitious, and handled all manner of blades with deadly speed. As the Koriani Second approached, Gavin stole a glance at Brynne. She refused to acknowledge his stare, and with that, Gavin knew that no mercy would be shown if the upper hand were to fall to his opponent. He expected Enias would view this fight as an opportunity to remove any and all doubt that he was the better fighter. Gavin had witnessed this unbounded ambition in the young soldier in the past. It had led to the unfortunate death of several recruits on the Koriani training grounds of Dragon Mount. It was just this prejudiced approach that had struck Gavin as dangerous behaviour within the closed ranks of the Silveryn Order’s protectors. They would kill their own without delay.

  Stretching his shoulders to alleviate some stiffness, Gavin maintained a defensive stance as the Koriani Second hunted for an opening. With a snarl, Enias gave way to his impatience and charged forward. With a sharp clang, the two blades hammered together and the battle was joined. Bider had observed Captain Silveron defeat dozens of men in training yards across the land, and yet he had never witnessed the exceptional skill on display this day.

  Enias was like a snake unleashed, coiling his position and then releasing a venomous strike. He darted ahead while keeping low, and for a moment, Gavin teetered on the edge, his sword repelling a series of hard thrusts that sent him reeling. The elation of the first victory was all but gone as the men of the Fey’Derin company realized what was now at stake.

  Glancing down the line, Bider caught the stern looks of concern marring the faces of the remaining officers. Ethan Shade looked quite ill, his face pale and hands clenched nervously at his side. Beside him stood the stout Sergeant Rockfar, calmly fingering the hilt of his own weapon. The Dwarf’s eyes were locked intently on the pair of combatants in the clearing. With an uneasy shudder, Bider turned back to the fight.

  Well into the extremely well matched contest, both men had scored only minor wounds against each other. Enias had struck first with a glancing blow as Gavin had tried to roll away after a near miss. The wound was trivial, but blood did trickle from the captain’s shoulder. The successful attack drew lusty cheers from what had been a nearly silent crowd. As the roars of approval increased, the captain dodged a heavy overhead blow and smashed his fist into the face of the Koriani. Pressing his advantage, Gavin initiated a string of attacks, forcing Enias to parry the whirlwind of blows. Bider watched in awe as the man spun and deflected each successive stab of the captain’s sword.

  The battle stretched on. Each man traded blows, countered attacks, and attempted everything from thrown dirt to elaborate feints. Bider was keenly aware that time was not on his commander’s side, what with the first duel exhausting some of his stamina. With mounting trepidation, he could see how desperately Captain Silveron needed every brief moment of respite offered.

  By the gods he is fast, faster than when we last crossed blades, Gavin thought as he parried another hard slash from his opponent. His lungs burned, and his arms were beginning to tire from the relentless pace of the contest. Lulling his enemy into a false sense of security, Gavin refused to hide his encroaching fatigue. Let his confidence rise, the mercenary thought, and I will strike one last time.

  Throwing back another flurry of blows, Gavin waited for Enias to continue to press his attack. Once the man committed, he sidestepped and slew-footed the Koriani. The crowd uttered a collective gasp of astonishment as Gavin’s blade came crashing down in what surely would be the decisive strike. And yet somehow it was blocked, the force of the blow shattering the weapon near the hilt. A piece of the blade pierced the edge of Enias’ eye, lodging a mere inch from the socket, the shard drawing blood and scoring a second strike for the captain. Gavin wasted little time holding his shattered weapon
and instead returned to his dagger. In a final attempt to end the duel, he stabbed downward towards the Koriani’s stomach.

  But the downed soldier recovered quickly and stabbed back with a dagger of his own pulled from his boot top. With cries of pain both men fell backwards, a dagger imbedded to the hilt in Gavin’s thigh and his own knife protruding from the Enias’ midsection. Blood poured forth from the wounds as each man wrenched out the blade.

  “Third Blood,” Gavin cried out, his voice hoarse with fatigue. He fell to one knee and quickly tore a strip from his tunic in order to bind the dripping wound on his leg. At his side, Enias pressed a hand against the gash in his stomach in a vain attempt to quell the blood pooling around his hands. Several Koriani guards dressed in ceremonial black ran out onto the field in order to tend to his wounds.

  The Koriani First signaled Gavin’s victory and the crowd of onlookers were stunned. Men and women who had moments earlier been clamouring and roaring their approval, uttered nary a sound. Although keeping the joy that leapt in his throat contained, Bider could barely believe that the captain had regained his feet. Blood darkened Gavin’s tattered company tunic, and yet with unbelievable strength of will, the wounded Fey’Derin leader limped towards Ethan Shade and the mage Tel’Andros, both men standing shoulder to shoulder near the edge of the clearing.

  “I will need a new sword, Sergeant,” the captain said as he studied the broken hilt he had reclaimed from the ground. It was all Ethan could do to nod and numbly receive the shattered blade from his commander’s outstretched hand covered in rivulets of fresh blood.

  “Sergeant Rockfar, is the company ready for departure?” Captain Silveron called down the line.

  “Aye, sir!” replied the taciturn Dwarf, his gruff rumble leaving no room for objections from the surrounding gallery.