Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Endric had no answer.

  “Yes, Endric Verilan, you are more like your father than I think even he is willing to admit. And perhaps, if it comes to it, you will one day serve as well as he has served.” Tresten smiled. “But that day is not today. Today, you serve differently.”

  “I'm serving the Denraen as I need to.”

  Tresten shook his head. “Today you are serving the Conclave. And that in that, you are like your father as well.”

  31

  Endric woke from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night. He looked up, saw the fading embers of the fire with Pendin slumped in front of it, his head resting on his hands. Senda rested next to Endric, her hand wrapped around her staff, ready to attack if necessary. Endric smiled at the sight, impressed by the fact that she was such a dedicated soldier that she would remain tied to her staff, ready to fight.

  Tresten was not where Endric had last seen him. He had expected that the Mage would have rested, needing sleep after his long day traveling, but Tresten had remained awake longer than Endric had expected. The Mage was nothing if not resilient, something that surprised Endric given his advanced age.

  Endric looked around, wondering if the sound that startled him awake had been Tresten returning. He sat up and realized there was movement in the distance.

  He grabbed his sword and started toward the trees. He considered waking Senda or Pendin but decided that they probably needed sleep as much as he did. It was better to let them rest right now, keeping them from another sleepless night. They'd had enough of those recently.

  Endric made his way toward the forest carefully. There was a certain silent energy about it, reminding him of stalking through the mines within Vasha, but that was energy that he detected from the teralin. This was something almost palpable. Did he imagine it? Did it come from the night itself, or was it something else?

  Shadows moved within the trees.

  They were moving away from him, and Endric followed, casting a glance back over his shoulder, noting Senda sleeping soundly and Pendin hunched forward, asleep on watch. That alone was unlike him, something that Endric would have to tease him about later, but for now, he would follow.

  Had someone abducted Tresten? That seemed unlikely. Tresten was a capable Mage, and he would not be overwhelmed.

  He tracked the shadows as they moved away from him until finally he caught up. “Tresten?”

  The old Mage turned to him, the staff glowing with sudden soft light. Shadows worked along Tresten's face, and his eyes had something of a haunted expression. “Endric. You should be sleeping.”

  “I was just worried—”

  Endric realized that he recognized the shape behind Tresten. “Brohmin?”

  “You brought others of the Denraen here?” Brohmin asked.

  Tresten shook his head. “The Conclave summoned, and I responded. Is that not how we traditionally have operated?”

  Brohmin chuckled. “I don't know what the Conclave has traditionally done. I haven't been a part of it nearly as long as you.”

  Tresten smiled. “No, I suppose you have not. But you should know that there was a request. Dendril sent word of need.”

  “What sort of need? I would think Dendril and the Denraen are more than capable of handling most problems.”

  “This one is in Thealon.”

  Brohmin shook his head. “Unless the tower is collapsing, I’m better off where I had been. You know the threats that are moving—”

  Tresten cut them off with a shake of his head. “I know the threats the same as you. This is one that we cannot ignore,” Tresten said. “This has to do with Urik.”

  Brohmin frowned. Endric saw it in the faint light drifting through the treetops from the moon, as well as from the light glowing from Tresten’s staff. “Again, I think Endric has proven himself capable of handling Urik. There is no need to involve the rest of the Conclave.”

  “Urik has been equipping people with teralin,” Endric said.

  Brohmin took a step toward him. “Teralin? Are you certain of this?”

  Endric unsheathed his sword and handed it to Brohmin. “Quite.”

  Brohmin squeezed the hilt of the sword and swung it through a brief pattern until he seemed satisfied. “This is teralin, but this is the positive polarity. I don't see the issue.”

  “Novan changed the polarity of this one,” Endric said, reaching for his sword.

  Brohmin allowed him to take it back but did so reluctantly. “Novan did?” He looked at Tresten, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Yes, Novan did,” Tresten said. “There are things that were necessary for him to learn. Knowledge that could not be lost. I cannot be the only keeper of such things. “

  “The historian will have documented this, you know that?”

  “As it must be.”

  “Tell me,” Brohmin said. “What are your plans for dealing with Urik? What do you intend to do to deal with him? If he is as competent as we suspect, it’s not going to be straightforward for you to capture him.”

  “That is why I asked for you to come,” Tresten said. “We will need the Hunter.”

  Brohmin sighed. “This is a dangerous gambit you’re after, Tresten. You recognize that much is changing—much has already changed. With that comes a greater need for the Conclave.”

  “I recognize the need for the Conclave,” Tresten said.

  “You do, but do the Magi?”

  “We are not there yet.”

  “How much longer, Tresten? How much longer before we are forced to make a decision, before we won't have a choice but to make a difficult decision? How much longer are we willing to hesitate when we know that action is required?” Brohmin asked.

  “You have been to the east. You know that they are not willing to participate. For the choice to be successful, they are critical.”

  “You’re the one who told me the need to make a choice would come soon. You're the one who shared with me that we cannot continue to wait.”

  “You are right. But…” Tresten closed his eyes. “You know what this means for not only me but for her as well.”

  “Does she know?”

  Tresten shook his head. “She is a part of the Conclave. She knows as much as the rest of us.”

  Brohmin offered a hint of a smile. It was strange seeing that on his face. There was something playful about it, which was not something that Endric would ever attribute to Brohmin. When he first met the man, he’d been under the influence of negatively charged teralin. He had been restored by Tresten—at least, Endric assumed Tresten had been the one to restore him. Now he seemed different. Youthful.

  “I have stopped trying to look so far into the future,” Tresten said to Brohmin. “Especially when the future for me is so distinctly hazy.”

  The hint of a smile faded from Brohmin's face. “You shouldn't say that. We still have need for you.”

  “There might be the need, but soon there won't be anything I can do to change what is coming. All things must end, Brohmin.”

  Brohmin stared at him a moment before sighing. “I will do this for you, Tresten. Of course, I will.”

  “The Conclave knows of your concerns. They recognize that change is accelerating. Something must happen, and soon, or we will be unprepared.”

  Tresten turned back to Endric. “Now. Now you must return to camp, and you must rest. You may not have the same opportunity over the next few days.”

  Tresten started deeper into the forest, leaving Brohmin with Endric. Endric started to follow, but Brohmin caught his arm. “Leave him. This is something that he must do alone.”

  “Where is he going?”

  Brohmin shook his head. “As I said, this is something he must do alone.” He guided Endric from the forest, leaving him with questions that had no answers. Tresten had disappeared deep into the forest, as if the forest itself swallowed him. Even the faint light along the surface of his staff was no longer visible.

  “The old man speaks correctly. It
's late, and you should rest. I will stand guard.”

  Endric rubbed his eyes. “Good, because I think my friend wouldn't be able to stay awake to provide watch.”

  As he passed beyond the edge of the forest, he felt the same tingling sensation that he felt on the way in. He let out a soft sigh, fatigue washing through him. It was time to sleep, time to see if he could recover, to prepare for what must be done, only… He wasn't certain how he was going to accomplish what must be done.

  32

  Endric awoke refreshed. He rolled over to find Pendin and Senda still sleeping, but Tresten had returned and sat across the fire from Brohmin. The two men spoke quietly to each other. It was early morning, early enough that colors had begun to stream across the sky, but not so early that the sun was up. The air held the scent of fresh rain, and it was mixed with something reminiscent of flowers.

  He found Brohmin honing his sword. He glanced up when Endric appeared and nodded.

  “We should arrive in Thealon today,” Tresten said. “You will need to give the appearance that you are my escort. I think that is our best bet for reaching the temple and drawing out Urik if we can.”

  “And if we can't?” Endric asked.

  Brohmin was the one who answered. “Then we will need to draw him out.”

  “How do you intend to draw him out if our plan fails?

  “We must give him something that he seeks. Only I'm not exactly certain what that would be.”

  Endric didn't know either. Urik wanted vengeance. Endric didn't know if he blamed only the Deshmahne, or of his rage went deeper, to the Denraen, to the Magi even. Did he blame even the gods? Endric didn't think he did, especially considering the level of devotion in the decorations he’d seen in Urik's quarters.

  “While your friends continue to rest, why don't you show me how skilled you are with the sword,” Brohmin said. “We might have need for your blade.”

  Endric shook his head. “I’m hopeful that we don't need mine. Besides, I think you’re the better of the two of us with the sword.”

  The Hunter dipped his head, considering Endric. “You have so little faith in your own ability?”

  “It's not a lack of faith. It’s a realistic understanding of my capabilities. I’ve seen what I'm capable of doing. And I've seen what you can do when facing the Deshmahne. I harbor no illusions about my ability compared to yours.” Endric stood and faced Brohmin. “But I’m happy to learn from you, and suspect there would be much you could teach me.”

  Brohmin shrugged and stepped away from the fire. “I don't have practice staves, but…” He reached for Endric’s sword.

  Turning back to Tresten, the Mage took both of their blades and ran his hand across the surface. When he returned Endric’s, he noted that the edge had been dulled. It could still hurt, but it was unlikely to cut, and unlikely to kill, unless Endric were to stab Brohmin.

  “It’s temporary. Tresten can remove it when finished. “

  Brohmin stepped back into a stance that Endric recognized. It was a ready stance, one that reminded him of the way his father prepared for sparring. Endric mirrored it. Much like with his father, Brohmin waited, allowing Endric to make the first move.

  Endric took a deep breath.

  Brohmin was talented. He would be better than Dendril, which meant that Endric would have to be at his best to even compete. He lunged forward, using a mix of two patterns, one that was an advanced pattern his father had taught him that he combined with one of the patterns that Senda used with her staff. With the two of them combined, Endric darted forward and moved in a sweeping motion. He sliced up as he did, bringing the sword toward Brohmin's side.

  Brohmin blocked, twisting in a fluid motion, and with two quick snaps of his wrist, he caught Endric on the side.

  “You're holding back,” Brohmin said.

  Endric danced backward, shifting his feet. He swung the sword in front of him, getting ready. As he did, he noticed a slight twitch from Brohmin, enough that he recognized that he was moving into his attack.

  Endric blocked Brohmin’s move but was forced back. He stayed out of reach of Brohmin's attack, which was difficult. The man was good.

  Endric had known that before, had seen that when he had faced the Deshmahne, but fighting him was something else entirely. Endric struggled simply keeping up.

  He started forward again, this time determined to not to hold back, determined to confront Brohmin with everything that he had.

  He swiped with his sword, swinging in a twisting arc much like an advanced catah his father had shown him.

  That wasn't quite right. This wasn’t entirely what his father had shown him. This was his father and Senda, but the aggressiveness was similar to the hand-to-hand combat Listain had demonstrated.

  Endric spun, bringing the sword around the side. Brohmin twisted, blocking him.

  As he did, Endric spun to another location, this time smacking Brohmin on the side.

  He felt a hint of satisfaction as he hit the man. It was something he wasn't sure he could do.

  Brohmin steeled himself, his jaw fixed in a frown, and darted forward.

  Endric blocked, forced to jump back, dancing away, but Brohmin still came, relentless.

  Endric blocked attack after attack before finally twisting away from it.

  He had to turn things.

  He attacked, spinning his sword, twisting away from Brohmin, bringing himself in too close so that Brohmin couldn’t use his longer reach against him.

  Brohmin backed away, putting some space between himself and Endric, who lunged forward, managing to catch Brohmin on the wrist. At the same time, Brohmin brought his sword around to Endric's midsection.

  Endric doubled over, wincing.

  Brohmin laughed loudly. “It's been a long time since anyone has challenged me. You've learned quite a bit in the time since I've met you.”

  Endric didn't know what to say. It surprised him that he would be able to compete with Brohmin. He’d spent the last year thinking that Brohmin was the most skilled swordsman that he knew. He still was, but Endric no longer felt completely outclassed.

  Endric turned around, panting, and saw Senda watching him. Pendin did the same. Neither spoke, but he could see something strange on their faces.

  Brohmin clapped Endric on the shoulder and smiled. “We’ll have to do that again after this business is over. I think you have quite a bit of potential, Endric.”

  Brohmin reached for Endric’s sword, and he let the man take it. Tresten ran his hand along the blade, and when Brohmin returned to him, the sword was sharp once more, as if nothing had ever been done to it.

  Endric sheathed it and made his way to Senda and Pendin. He took a seat next to them. Senda watched him, and Pendin gave him a hard shove from the side. Endric glanced over.

  “You’ve been holding back on me,” Pendin said.

  Endric shook his head. “Not holding back.”

  “Well, that's about as impressive a display of swordsmanship as I have seen. So there's that.”

  Endric chuckled. He didn't know what else to say, and so chose to say nothing.

  They reached the outskirts of Thealon late in the day. The tower became visible first, rising above the landscape, an enormous building of pure white stone that dwarfed everything else. There was something remarkable about it, something that Endric could not deny. A sense of power radiated from the structure.

  He slowed his horse as it first came into view, unable to take his eyes off it. Endric had been to Thealon and had seen the tower, but he felt the same each time. Temples in many places were replicas, similar to the temple in Vasha, but paled in comparison.

  Next to him, Tresten chuckled. “I'll admit, there is something impressive about it.”

  Endric could only stare. He wasn't devout within the Urmahne faith, and there were times when he struggled with what he believed, much like he had once struggled with his purpose in the world, but seeing the tower and how impressive it was, and noting the way
that it rose above the ground with a nearly palpable crackle of energy, Endric could not deny that there was something. It was almost enough to believe the gods had once existed in the world.

  Endric struggled with that line of thinking. If the gods were real, then it meant the Magi truly served them, and it might even mean that the Denraen were supposed to serve the Magi. That, at least, was what the Magi seemed to believe.

  Pendin rode up next to him and looked up, a smile on his face. “I would almost say that you’re impressed.”

  Endric shook his head. “You mean you aren't?”

  Pendin nodded toward the city in the distance. Spread out below the base of the tower was an enormous city. Thealon was reputed to be nearly as impressive as Vasha, only without the Magi. Yet, unlike Vasha, Thealon had the tower, which meant they had some proximity to the gods that even the Magi couldn't claim.

  The city had a certain organization to it. A massive wall circled its entirety. Within the wall, from their vantage on the hillside, Endric could make out neatly organized streets, all flowing toward the center of the city and the tower. He couldn't see the Urmahne temple from here and wondered what it would look like in Thealon, when in other places the temple was created as a replica of the tower.

  “I've been here on patrol. It is impressive. In fact, I was here for choosing one time.”

  “Did it seem like they minded the Denraen choosing from the Ur?” Endric asked.

  Pendin shrugged. “I'm not sure if they minded. I was mostly there as a demonstrator. There was a dozen of us. We selected two. I have a hard time thinking that’s enough to irritate the Ur all that much.”

  “Unless there’s a choosing every few months,” Brohmin said.

  He rode on a tall, dappled gray stallion. The horse was lean and reminded Endric of the horses that the Antrilii rode, seasoned horses that were battle hardened and nothing like the type of horses he’d ridden as a child or the type of horses the Denraen kept. The Antrilii practically seemed able to talk to them, much like they had seemed able to talk to the merahl that hunted with them.