The Andarian Affair

by Jones, Loren K.

  When they were still, Stavin looked up at the king and said, “Your Majesty, the sentence has been carried out. They are dead.”

  The king looked around at the shocked court. “The treason against the crown ends. The rumors end. The next time I am attacked, the entire family will be condemned.” There wasn’t a sound as the king turned and strode away with Princess Marina half a step behind him.

  A wail of grief echoed through the room as soon as the king’s door closed. It was joined by several others and the sound of weeping. Stavin looked up at Captain Zel’Astel and waited in silence. The captain seemed like he was about to say something, but shook his head instead. “Go to your room, Lieutenant.”

  Stavin braced to attention and bowed, then walked away. Dahvin soon joined him, as did Ahlvan Zel’Naris. Dahvin said, “Glora and Carri have gone to be with Marina. I imagine Ehrwan will join them.”

  Stavin nodded but didn’t say anything as they walked through the palace corridors. He remained silent all the way to their room, but once the door closed he snarled, “Damn those fools.”

  “Stavin?” Ahlvan asked.

  “Varil and his friends,” Stavin snapped. “What kind of fool would carry a weapon in the presence of the royal family? They had to know they would be caught and accused of treason.”

  Dahvin said, “Stavin, calm down. I know it must be tearing you apart having to execute those--”

  “That doesn’t bother me, Dahvin,” Stavin said as he looked up at his friend. “They deserved it. What bothers me is the number of other young lords I saw stashing similar canes under seats and behind ladies in the court. What kind of idiots do they think the Royal Guards are? And, come to think of it, what kind of idiots are we that they were allowed to bring those canes into the court?”

  Dahvin was silent, but Ahlvan shook his head and said, “It’s kind of an open secret. Everyone knows the lords are loyal to the king, so the sword canes are passed with a wink by the guards.” He paused for a moment. “They were, at least. I seriously doubt you’ll see any of those canes in the palace for a long time. I certainly wouldn’t risk it.”

  Stavin said, “What everyone knows is often wrong,” without looking up from the floor. “Emperor Savan Zel’Corvan said that over a thousand years ago, and it’s just as true today.” Now he did look at Ahlvan and Dahvin. “Not all of the lords are loyal to the king. Not lately at least.”

  Both of the young lords were nodding their agreement when there was a knock at the door. Dahvin opened it and Sarvan stepped through. “Stavin, you had better be well rested. There’s talk in the palace that you’re going to be challenged by every male member of the Zel’Havar family as well as the other two.”

  Stavin shook his head slowly. “Then I will kill every one of them.”

  The three lords shared a look. “Some of them will invoke a champion, Stavin,” Dahvin said in a soft voice. “There are professionals who make a living fighting other people’s battles.”

  “They are called mercenaries, Dahvin,” Stavin replied as he looked each of the lords in the eye. “Remember who and what I am beneath the honors the king has presented me.”

  Chapter 22

  THE FIRST CHALLENGE CAME LESS THAN a span later. Dahvin answered a knock at the door and found Taral Zel’Havar waiting. “Where is he?” he demanded and Stavin stepped into view. “I challenge you, cur, for the insult you have dealt my family.”

  Stavin simply asked, “When and where?”

  “Mid day, the palace courtyard. Bring your sword.”

  Stavin smiled thinly as he looked at the young lord. “As the challenged, I invoke right of choice. I will bring my Dragon’s Tongue.”

  The young lord was silent for a moment, then he nodded curtly and said, “Die with whatever you choose in your hands. It means nothing to me.”

  Once the door closed, Dahvin looked at Stavin. “It means nothing to him because he’s not fighting you. Taral barely knows which end of a sword to grab.”

  Stavin just nodded and turned toward his armor, but Sarvan stopped him. “No armor, Stavin. You’re supposed to wear a white shirt so first blood will be evident.”

  Stavin considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Fortunately, I have a white shirt. It’ll be a shame to ruin it with blood, though.”

  “You think you might lose?” Ahlvan asked.

  Stavin shook his head. “No, but severed limbs spurt blood all over the place.”

  Mid day came and Dahvin, in the capacity of Stavin’s second, led him to the ancient circle in the palace courtyard. He clenched his teeth in anger when he saw who was waiting for Stavin. “Rallin Kel’Mordav. He’s very good, Stavin.”

  Stavin didn’t say anything. He just took his Dragon’s Tongue and walked into the circle. He raised his voice and said, “I’m waiting,” toward the group on the other side of the courtyard.

  A tall man walked forward with a sword swinging casually in his hand. “I heard you were going to use that ancient piece of crap. Too bad for you I know how to counter it.” Taral Zel’Havar walked at his side, taking the place of second.

  As soon as Stavin and Rallin were in place, Taral and Dahvin said, “Begin.”

  Rallin’s sword was a blur as he struck at Stavin, but Stavin had danced forward instead of away, violating every rule of dueling that was known. He was inside Rallin’s reach and the blade of his Dragon’s Tongue took Rallin’s head off in a single sweep. Blood erupted from the warrior’s neck and Stavin was indeed spattered. Dahvin had stepped back in preparation, but Taral was close enough that he was soaked with gore as Rallin’s body fell toward him.

  Stavin calmly picked up Rallin’s sword as he looked at Taral and said, “Don’t challenge me again unless you are going to present me with a real challenger.” Then he calmly walked away as shouts of outrage echoed across the courtyard.

  Stavin was looking at his shirt as he and Dahvin walked away. “Damn. This is why I don’t like white. It shows every speck of blood.”

  “Stavin, you’re terrifying,” Dahvin almost whispered. “Rallin Kel’Mordav has killed dozens of men in the circle.”

  “And therein was his weakness,” Stavin replied. “He was used to honor bouts, sword to sword, and putting on a show. I fight to kill as quickly and cleanly as possible. I have very seldom faced just one opponent. Two, three, even four-to-one is much more common than one-on-one fighting.”

  A shout came from behind them, and they turned to see Taral standing beside the body of his champion screaming, “You won’t get away with this!”

  Dahvin put a hand on Stavin’s shoulder and pushed him toward the barracks. “How many times do you think that trick will work?”

  “Most tricks only work once. Fortunately, I have other tricks.”

  Stavin was only given until the next morning before a new challenge was issued. He had to scrounge for a white shirt to wear, and Dahvin again led him to the courtyard. This time the champion was a lithe young man who gave Stavin a vulpine smile as he walked toward him.

  “My, you are a pretty boy,” the man said as Stavin approached. “It’s such a shame that you’ll die before we can get to know one another.” He had a long, thin sword in his hand and jewels glinted from the hilt.

  Stavin just looked at him and sighed. Once again he attacked on the command, but this time he faded back, sweeping the lower blade of his Dragon’s Tongue low and forcing the duelist to jump to avoid it. When the man landed the upper blade of Stavin’s weapon pierced his heart. He froze, a look of startled incomprehension on his face as he looked down at the blade in his chest, then he fell backwards. Stavin shook his head as he picked up the fancy sword.

  He saw Charvil waiting for him as he walked back toward the barracks. “Fifty-one,” was all he said as he passed.

  “Warleader Fourth,” Charvil confirmed. “How long do you expect this to go on?”

  “At least one more, for the sake of honor,” Dahvin said as they walked.

  Dahvin’s prediction was
dead on target. A challenger was waiting for Stavin when he got to his room. “You are challenged to trail by combat by Lord Wallak Zel’Grovan.”

  “When?” Stavin asked.

  “Now,” the man snapped. “The lord awaits you in the circle of honor.”

  “Damn,” Stavin sighed. “Well, at least I didn’t get any blood on this shirt.” He turned and headed back to the courtyard with Dahvin and Charvil behind him, along with the messenger. When he reached the circle, he groaned. The man facing him with a sword in his hand was older, forty or more, and showed the effects of soft living in his sagging belly and jowly face.

  “That’s Lord Wallak himself, Stavin,” Dahvin said when he saw the man. “He was a dangerous swordsman in his youth, but that was a long time ago. He was a captain in the Royal Guard until he inherited his family’s lands.”

  Stavin shook his head sadly as he walked into the circle. “Lord Wallak, don’t do this. Walk away with your life.”

  “I’ll walk away with your blood on my sword,” Lord Wallak snarled. “You cost my son his life, and I’ll take yours in payment.”

  Stavin shook his head again and came to ready with his Dragon’s Tongue held vertically in front of him. At the command, he blocked the elderly lord’s strike, but didn’t strike back. He blocked nearly a dozen strikes before he heard the lord’s labored breathing and stepped away. “You can’t accomplish anything like this, Lord Wallak.”

  “I can avenge my son,” the lord panted. He attacked again and Stavin let him come. At the last instant Stavin swept his Dragon’s Tongue in a short arc and took off the lord’s sword hand, ending the match.

  Lord Wallak went to his knees, clutching the stump of his hand and screamed at Stavin, “Kill me! Murder me as you murdered my son!”

  Stavin shook his head. “No, Lord Wallak. I did not murder your son. I executed him at the king’s command.” Stavin turned to leave the circle, but Lord Wallak grabbed his sword with his left hand and attacked Stavin’s back. Stavin saw the look of shock on Dahvin’s face and jabbed backwards. He felt the blade sink into the lord’s chest as he turned and deflected the blow of the dying lord’s sword with his forearm. He looked into the dying man’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Lord Wallak sputtered as blood came to his lips, but never managed to say a word. He finally fell to the side and Stavin pulled his weapon free. Stavin whispered, “Fifty-two,” then turned away. Charvil and Dahvin followed him to the barracks.

  “That will be the last of them, I hope,” Dahvin said as they reached their room.

  “I hope so as well, Lord Dahvin,” Charvil said as he sat in Stavin’s chair. “While single combat is honorable, it’s a waste of talent. Evandia might need those swordsmen in the future.”

  Two days passed quietly before Stavin was challenged again. This time a young lord accused him of disrespect and demanded satisfaction. Stavin calmly nodded his acceptance of the challenge. When he arrived at the circle he found the courtyard nearly full of spectators. The young lord who had challenged him was waiting in the circle with a slight smile on his face.

  “He’s dangerous, Stavin,” Dahvin said as soon as he saw who it was. “That’s Jev Zel’Havar. He’s been out with the Army for several years, but he was a champion duelist before he joined. In fact, he joined the Army to get away from the vengeful families of all the men he’d killed.”

  Stavin walked into the circle with his Dragon’s Tongue in his hands and said, “Lord Zel’Havar, I am ready.”

  Lord Zel’Havar smirked as he made lazy circles in the air with his sword. At the command, he attacked, moving to block Stavin’s expected strike, but Stavin had dropped the Dragon’s Tongue and moved in to embrace the young lord. His big water-steel knife plunged into the lord’s side, and he looked down into Stavin’s eyes in shock. His mouth moved, but he made no sound as his legs gave way and he fell.

  There was a building roar of outrage from the crowd as Stavin calmly picked up his Dragon’s Tongue and the lord’s sword.

  A man rushed forward and screamed at Stavin. “That was dishonorable! You didn’t use your declared weapon!”

  Stavin shook his head. “He never asked what weapon I was going to use.”

  “You dishonorable bastard!” another man screamed and lunged at Stavin with a sword. Stavin reacted, the training of a lifetime taking control of his reflexes and the swordsman died in a flash of gold. More men were crowding forward with swords in their hands, but no blade touched Stavin. He fought his way, his speed and reflexes unhampered by his armor, and a dozen more men fell before the rest drew back in shock. Stavin stood in the center of a ring of dead and dying men, blood dripping from his weapon and face, his white shirt stained crimson with the blood of others. To the horror of the men surrounding him, he wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “Anyone who challenges me will die. I have no quarrel with those who are loyal to the king, but know this: I will execute my duty to King Kalin and Princess Marina and protect Evandia in any way necessary, even if I have to kill a hundred men.”

  There was a stirring among the men around Stavin, and five Royal Guardsmen forced their way to the center of the crowd. “Lieutenant Kel’Aniston, the king commands your presence at once,” the sergeant in charge said as he took in the scene before him.

  Stavin simply nodded once and walked forward, stepping over the bodies of his opponents. He handed his Dragon’s Tongue to Charvil and asked, “Will you collect those swords for me, Sir?” At Charvil’s nod he walked toward the palace with the sergeant at his side.

  Looks of shock met them wherever they passed, and the guards at the door to the king’s council chamber looked like they were about to panic as Stavin approached. “Lieutenant Kel’Aniston is here in answer to the king’s summons,” the sergeant announced, and the lieutenant at the door hastily knocked and passed the word. Stavin was passed through, and at the first sight of him the room erupted in shouted questions and curses.

  The king’s voice drown them all out as he shouted, “Be silent, all of you!” When the room had quieted, the king looked at Stavin and asked, “Stavin, what in the five hells happened to you?”

  Stavin gave the king a brief outline of the near riot in the courtyard and the councilors remained silent though it all. At the end Stavin said, “Your Majesty may soon run short of young lords if this continues.”

  The king sat heavily in his chair and grasped his goblet of wine in a shaking hand. “Stavin, what am I to do with you? You claim to have just killed fourteen men, yet you sound as calm as if you were claiming to have finished polishing your boots.”

  Stavin considered the king’s statement for a moment before answering. “Your Majesty, they weren’t much of a challenge.”

  “Is your honor satisfied now?” one of the councilors asked in an aggressive tone.

  Stavin replied, “My honor was never in question, lord.”

  “You’ve murdered seventeen men in four days!” the lord snapped.

  “I was challenged, lord. I issued no challenges.”

  “You may not have issued a challenge, but you manipulated others into challenging you to satisfy your bloodlust.”

  Stavin shook his head. “That is not true, lord. I would have happily spent this entire summer without drawing blood.”

  “Liar,” the lord snarled, then froze and turned white as Stavin stalked toward him.

  Stavin stopped a pace away from the suddenly terrified lord, staring him in the eye from a mask of drying blood. He shifted his attention and said, “Lord Zel’Sartan, I ask you to test the veracity of my words.” When the Truth Seer nodded, he turned back to the lord who had called him a liar. “Lord, I would have been content to return home without shedding a drop of blood this season. I regret the deaths of so many of Evandia’s young Chosen, but it is not I who has sought these deaths. I have defended my honor, and the honor of my family, as is the duty of all men. I will not allow my name and honor to be slandered, nor will I turn away from anyone who ch
allenges me.”

  Lord Zel’Sartan said, “He speaks the truth.”

  “Stavin, come over here,” the king commanded, and Stavin went to his side, going to one knee automatically. “Stavin, this must stop. I will let it be known that this is by royal decree.” The king paused and shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I’ll go one better.” He looked around at his councilors, then back at Stavin. “Stavin Kel’Aniston, I name you a Ward of the Crown.” There was the sound of deep breaths being drawn by the councilors, but before they could start shouting he continued. “It is now an act of treason for anyone to challenge you.”

  Stavin remained where he was, struck dumb by the king’s action. He’d studied the laws of the Luxandian Empire and the old Kingdom of Farindia as well. A Ward of the Crown was given the same protections as the royal family. As of this instant he could no more be challenged than the king or princess could. His eyes were still unfocused as he softly said, “That is going to infuriate a lot of people, Your Majesty.”

  “Let them be mad. This bloodshed must stop, and I can’t honorably order you to stop accepting challenges.” The king looked at him and shook his head. “Now go get cleaned up. You’re dripping blood all over the palace. Council is concluded for the day.” The king stood and left the room, as did all of the councilors.

  Stavin looked at himself for a moment, then at the drops of blood that had fallen from his clothes as he’d moved around the room. Sighing, he went to the door and a servant opened it to let him out.

  Stavin accepted an escort back to the guards’ barracks. No one actually ran away from him, but people of every station in life flattened themselves against the walls as he passed. Many of the women turned their faces away or closed their eyes to avoid seeing him.

  Stavin went straight to the bathing room and climbed into a tub, clothing and all. He was scrubbing his hair for the third time when Dahvin and Charvil found him. “Are you all right, Stavin?” Charvil asked.