The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  “So, young Jonas, you dropped an ogre with your bow?” Cyn asked with a hint of disbelief.

  “He did. He shot the ogre twice at sixty paces. One arrow hit the thing in the hip and the other in the back. Then he hit the beast a third time in the neck. That is when the ogre charged him and I came out of the cave. I didn’t know what to do so I ran at the beast with my spear as the creature charged Jonas like an angry bull. It was incredible. Jonas stopped, nocked another arrow, and dropped to his knee while the ogre charged. When the roaring beast got within ten paces, Jonas loosed the shaft which hit the beast in its open mouth. The ogre’s head snapped back and the thing stumbled around. That is when I came up behind it and stabbed it with my spear. The ogre was already dying though. He just stumbled around and then fell face first into the snow. It was amazing. He saved my life,” Fil stated proudly.

  The warriors around the campfire looked at each other, their expressions revealing a newfound respect for the young boys.

  “That is quite a feat, young man; to face a charging ogre with a bow. You have steady nerves. You should be proud; both of you should be,” Cyn spoke, his shadowed eyes looking at them with respect.

  Landon then spoke up. “You boys have told an amazing story and my heart is heavy for your loss. This is news that must be brought to King Gavinsteal of Finarth. Airos’s death is a huge loss to us all…and a Banthra attacking your town, it makes no sense. I guess the rumors are true then,” he said sadly.

  “What rumors, sir?” asked Jonas.

  “The rumors that Malbeck the Dark One is back and that a new evil is spreading south from the Black Lands and Banrith Castle. If your story is true, and a Banthra attacked your town, whatever the reason was, the Dark One must be back. Tarsis borders the Black Lands and Banrith. The fortress of Malbeck has been trouble for the royal family of Tarsis for thousands of years.” Landon noticed the boys’ confused look. “Do you not know the story of Malbeck the Dark One?” he asked, seeing the boy’s bewildered expressions.

  “We know very little. We are from a small mountain town, sir. We all struggled to survive every day and had little time for stories of the past. I know of the Dark One, but not anything of detail,” stated Fil.

  “I see, well, I will have to remedy that. A thousand years ago, the ruler of Banrith Castle was Malbeck Dysander who was a ruthless king. He taxed his people heavily, ruling with an iron fist. Slavery, rape, and murder were commonplace in his kingdom. He became a follower of Gould, as the dark god’s creed resembled his own. Besides, he hunted for power, and Gould could provide what he wanted,” Landon continued as more than one man around the campfire made the sign of the High One on his chest at the mention of Gould, the tormentor. “Gould gave him power but molded him into his servant. Many years came and went and Malbeck grew in power. He was not recognizable any more. Gould’s magic had twisted his mind and body into something else, something dark, a demon capable of wielding god magic.”

  “What is the difference in god magic and mage magic?” asked Jonas.

  “I’ll speak to that, good merchant,” interjected Allindrian. “God magic is magic freely given from a god or saint. The magic is given to a devout follower to further the cause of the god that grants the power. The elves call the energy of all things the Ru’Ach and we believe that everything you see is made from this energy. Human belief is different and I will not get into that now, but, in the case of Malbeck, he was fed magic from the most powerful of the Forsworn, which is Gould.” Again the men all made the warding mark of the High One. Allindrian noticed Jonas and Fil staring at the men when they made the four pointed mark on their chest. “It is believed by some that just mentioning Gould’s name, or Naz-reen, goddess of the dark and killing, or Dykreel, god of torture and pain, that you open your heart and soul to their powers. The three together are called the Forsworn.”

  “Is that true? The opening your heart part?” asked Fil.

  “It can be. You see, Fil, there are men of pure heart and soul that cannot be corrupted by the mere mentioning of a name, but these men are few. Airos was one, incorruptible by evil, but almost all men have a speck of darkness in them, a part of them that, under the right circumstances, can let in that evil…anger, jealousy, envy, greed; emotions that can slowly let in the vile filth until the dark poison has completely taken over. Everyone has to be on constant guard for this poison. Naz-reen is the best at this. She uses intrigue and plot over many years to slowly turn the hearts of men black, so they may come to serve her.”

  “Airos told me that my soul was pure,” Jonas said softly as he remembered the conversation he had had with Airos.

  Allindrian looked at him with wonder. She stared deeply into his eyes for a few moments as if she were searching for something. Jonas looked away; he could not stare at her without blushing. “That is indeed something, Jonas,” Allindrian finally said. “Airos would not be able to lie, and he did have the power to look into the hearts of men. You are indeed a special young man, for having a pure soul is rare, very rare indeed.”

  There was a long pause before Fil interrupted the silence. “What is regular magic then, Allindrian?” he asked.

  Allindrian broke her gaze from Jonas and looked at Fil before answering. “Mage magic comes from nature, from the Ru’Ach, which is everything around us. Everything you see has energy, the trees, grass, rocks, stars…..everything.” Allindrian held out her hand and murmured a few quick words. Blue fire leaped from her hand, flickering a foot in the air. Fil and Jonas jumped back in surprise. “This is mage magic.”

  “You are a sorceress?” asked Jonas in awe. He had never before seen magic.

  “Yes, I have some magical power, but not much. I have spent my life studying combat, and if you want to become powerful in magic you must devote your life to the study. Most cannot do it and that is why wizards are very rare. Kings may have court wizards but a powerful mage is rare indeed. My elven blood has made it easier to learn magic, for elves are more connected to nature than are humans. There are words of power that give magic users access to the energy of the Ru’Ach.” She closed her hand and the leaping blue flame disappeared. “Since elves are the oldest of the races, we have a stronger link to the Ru’Ach. Our ancient language gives us access to the river of power. Elven wizards, or ekahals, get their power from the Ru’Ach. The ancient elves created magic from the Ru’Ach and all forms of magic use come from the skills that they developed thousands of lifetimes ago. It is not the power that is good or evil, but the person that directs the magic. Certain words and careful study give magic users access to the source of power, which is the Ru’Ach. Elves use the true source, the ancient elven language that is heavily guarded and not taught to outsiders. The common elven tongue is a dialect that we use in daily life. Humans and demi-humans that wield magic use different varieties of this technique by twisting different dialects of the elven language with the common languages. Powerful wizards have studied these languages for years and have unlocked the power of the Ru’Ach. Wizards are always trying to steal words of power from the elven ekahals, who are the most powerful wizards in Kraawn. The term to describe this theft is called Nis’Tai, which means ‘dishonorable’.”

  “So Malbeck used god magic to try and conquer the lands of Kraawn many years ago?” asked Fil.

  “Yes,” replied Landon. “He also used god magic to create the six Banthras and other lesser minions. He trapped a group of cavaliers who had attempted to enter Banrith and destroy him. The legend goes that he spent years corrupting and twisting their bodies into his most powerful warriors.”

  “How could one man trap six powerful cavaliers?” Fil asked.

  “I do not know exactly,” answered Landon. “I have heard that when they entered his lair, where Gould’s power was the strongest, that they were somehow shielded from their own god’s power. But I don’t know if anyone knows the truth of it.”

  “But if their hearts were pure, how did he corrupt them?” asked Jonas.

  “Tha
t is a good question,” replied Allindrian. “Unfortunately we do not really know how he did it. As I said before, almost all men have a speck of darkness in them. Maybe their hearts were not totally pure. Maybe their energy left their bodies and left a corruptible shell behind. We do not know. All we know is that a Banthra is almost undefeatable, only a powerful cavalier would have a chance at killing one.”

  “Airos killed one,” stated Fil.

  “Airos was a first rank cavalier. He was the best. There are only a few first rank cavaliers left now that he is dead. As I said, his death is a huge loss to all that is good,” Landon added solemnly.

  “So, what are the rumors of Malbeck’s return? How was he defeated and how could he be back now after so many years?” Jonas asked.

  Landon let out a deep breath and smiled at the inquisitive boy. “That is a long story, young man, a story for another day. Besides, I do not know all the answers to your questions. My caravan is going to Finarth. We are two weeks out and it would be my pleasure to have you both as my guests. Would you like to travel with us?” the heavyset merchant asked, smiling warmly. Jonas and Fil looked at each other, eagerly nodding in agreement.

  “We thank you, sir, for your generosity, and would very much like to be your guests,” Jonas responded with a smile.

  “That is good news,” replied Landon standing up from the fire. “Now, let’s get some sleep and save some of our stories for the trip to Finarth.”

  Everyone stood and went about getting ready to lie down for the night.

  Allindrian smiled at the boys; her perfect white teeth sparkling in the moonlight. “Come with me, ogre slayers, you may sleep at my fire,” the half-elf said with a grin, moving back to her fire away from the others. They followed her and laid down their bedrolls by the flickering flames, basking in the warmth of the little blaze. As Jonas wrapped himself in his wool blanket he looked up at Allindrian who went back to sharpening her knife.

  “Landon said that Airos was almost as good as you with a blade. That must mean that you are a very skilled warrior,” stated Jonas.

  Allindrian smiled at him and her eyes sparkled with something that Jonas recognized as pure confidence in her abilities.

  “Will you teach us?” asked Jonas.

  “We shall talk in the morning, young Jonas. Now get some sleep. You have had a long day.”

  Jonas smiled at the lovely warrior and stretched out on his back. He looked up at the sparkling stars, sighed, and closed his eyes. For once things seemed to be going their way. They were with a group of armed men who were willing to take them to Finarth and he was sleeping next to a beautiful half-elf warrior who might teach him how to use a sword. It could be worse he thought, as fatigue overcame him and he fell asleep.

  ***

  The first week with the caravan went by quickly, and Jonas and Fil soon fell right in step with the hardy travelers. Landon was a gracious host, allowing the boys to eat with him at night and sharing with them tasty exotic foods, spices, and drink they had never sampled before. One was a thick dark drink that was sweet and bitter at the same time. Landon had said that it was made from sugar, water, and a mixture that was a combination of spices and a ground substance that he called cacao, which came from a bean-like seed in a far off land. They spoke often with the warriors who warmed up to the boys quickly. The men at arms asked them many questions about their recent ordeal and the violence they had faced seemed to help them form a bond with the tough men.

  Jonas and Fil wanted to do their part to help with the work on the caravan, for they were taught never to accept charity when they had two good hands and legs. Jonas took that lesson very seriously since it was not long ago that he didn’t have two good hands and legs. They helped with the oxen and horses, cleaning and brushing them, and feeding and watering them at night. During the day they would bring food and water to the mercenaries who Landon paid to guard his caravan. They enjoyed and took pride in their work as they slowly meandered out of the Tundrens and into the Finarthian hills.

  Allindrian mostly kept to herself, tracking up ahead for hours at a time and suddenly appearing out of nowhere to give reports. The boys learned that she was a ranger, trained by the elves in Mel’un-riam, the elven kingdom located far to the west, and north of the Gadrian Mountains.

  Allindrian did agree to show them some basic sword fighting skills, just enough to get them started on their own so they wouldn’t be massacred if they needed to fight. It was exhausting work, but they were both excited and thrilled and took to the challenge with teeth-gritting resolve. Allindrian was a stern instructor who started their training late in the evening after they had eaten and didn’t stop until the sun’s rays dipped behind the tall mountain peaks. They used stout sticks, about as long as a long sword, to spar with.

  Four days into their march to Finarth, Fil, Jonas, and Allindrian were sparring in a clearing by their camp. “You must get your arms stronger, Fil,” Allindrian admonished calmly as she sidestepped his clumsy stroke, smacking him on his left shoulder. Fil stumbled to the ground exhausted, but slowly got back up to his feet, panting heavily. “Swordsmen must first master their strength, not their blade. A strong back, stomach, and arms will allow faster and more powerful strokes, and those muscles are also needed to maintain balance. Your lungs must be strong in order to fight long drawn out battles. And we must not neglect the mind; it is the strongest muscle of all. A confident warrior, who thinks not of defeat, but of victory, is a warrior to reckon with. But you should start with strengthening your body first, and your mind will follow. It is like a home built of wood. The outside may look beautiful, but if the foundation and frame are not strong then it will weather poorly and fall down in a heavy storm.”

  “Our bodies are the foundation?” asked Fil, readying his stick again, assuming the start position that she had taught him.

  “Precisely. It matters not how many fancy moves you have. If you are not strong and fast with powerful lungs, then you will be killed in battle if you face opponents that have mastered their mind and body,” Allindrian added as they began to slowly circle each other, their sticks held before them.

  Fil was tired and sweating heavily, but Allindrian was calm, seemingly unaffected by the constant dueling. She struck out quickly and Fil parried the stroke, trying the parry she had taught him. Again he was not quick enough and her stick was a blur, deflecting the defensive move and smacking him heavily on his wrist. With a grunt he dropped the stick.

  Jonas, who had been watching the session, grimaced as her stick made a solid thud as it struck Fil’s wrist. Fil bit back the pain, grabbing the stick from the ground.

  “That is enough for now, Fil. Well done. Now, Jonas, it is your turn,” Allindrian smiled as she faced him. Jonas stepped into the circle and held up his stick.

  In just four days of training, Fil and Jonas had made good progress. They mastered a few training positions, parries, and offensive moves. Their arms were not yet accustomed to the movements that they were learning and they often went to bed at night with sore muscles and bruises from Allindrian’s stick. They would hear the warriors laugh every time Allindrian smacked them hard on the body, but, even after a few days, it became apparent that Jonas was much better than Fil with a sword, even if it was just a stick. He was quick and agile, and he did not tire as fast as Fil. The constant running, walking, and climbing he had been doing for the last two months had made Jonas’s muscles strong and fast.

  Jonas thrived on the physical exertion, often staying up late into the night quietly going through the forms she had taught him. He began to do various exercises to strengthen his arms, stomach, and legs. Allindrian taught him certain movements that he could do alone to build muscle. A tree limb could be employed to pull his body up until his chin was level with the branch or he would lie on his back, lifting his legs off the ground and holding them steady until his stomach burned from the exertion.

  This time Jonas hoped to score a touch on Allindrian. He knew that she wasn’t rea
lly trying, and he wanted to capitalize on that and surprise her with a quick touch. Jonas decided to launch an offensive attack first, before he was too tired and covered with bruises. He moved in quickly with the point of his stick, hoping to bait her to block the false attack. Allindrian swung her stick down to do just that, but Jonas rolled his stick under the parry, trying to smack Allindrian’s exposed right thigh.

  He thought he had her but she suddenly wasn’t even there. She had flipped her stick from her right to her left hand and, effortlessly stepping her leg back from his attack, she swung down, smacking him hard on the right thigh, harder than normal thought Jonas. He jumped back ignoring the instinct to rub his stinging leg.

  “Good idea, Jonas. That was a well-executed roll,” Allindrian praised him with a slight smile.

  The three practiced hard for a while, Allindrian teaching them various moves and forms until the sun dipped its head behind the snow covered peaks forcing them to stop.

  “Good work. You are both doing well. I am impressed with your dedication. Keep working on the forms and your strength and you’ll become swordsmen yet.” Allindrian had barely broken a sweat. She grinned at the two young men, who smiled broadly at her praise.

  Allindrian tossed her stick to Jonas who grabbed it out of the air. The ranger smiled warmly at them both and then leaped into the darkness, melting into the forest as if she was never there.

  Fil and Jonas blinked, thinking that it was the flickering firelight that was playing tricks with their eyes.