The messenger grins and nods his head. “Those are incredible feats for one so young. I’m impressed considering you don’t have any visible scars. The giltris should have left some kind of mark unless you know a powerful healer.”
“The priestess I saved was nice enough to care for me a second time. She has since moved on to the continent of Canst’s Field, so I have to be more careful these days,” Luke lies without missing a beat. “Now, nothing would please me more than to help out Duke Solomon. My parents have told me many good things about him. His kindness and wisdom are well known in my village. What is this assignment?”
“The heir to the Serabic kingdom is being hunted by a Lich. Our agents have kept the heir in a safe place, but fear that it is only a matter of time before the Lich strikes,” the messenger says, sitting down on the tree stump. “Forgive me, but I cannot say the heir’s name or anything about this person due to the magic at the Lich’s disposal. We believe that while the Lich knows where the heir is, it does not know what the heir looks like. In any case, the Duke needs someone to go to Hamilton Military Academy and protect the heir. Have you had any dealings with Liches before?”
“Not really. I haven’t had any encounters with powerful undead,” Luke admits, relieved that he can be honest again. “Although, I have fought casters before and, thankfully, I’m quick enough to dodge most combat spells. Casters are mortal, so a stab to the vitals works on them like everything else. Of course, a Lich is more complicated, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out. Do you have a picture of the heir?”
“I do. Give me a minute,” the messenger requests.
The messenger begins rummaging through his pockets before he remembers that both scrolls were with the Paladin. He immediately pulls out a fresh piece of parchment and a magical quill. The messenger begins writing as carefully as he can, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Once he is done writing, the man uses a ring in his belt to leave a wax seal on the scroll. Luke gently takes the scroll when it is handed to him. He looks over at Stiletto to see that the dog is busy trying to catch a trout in the river. The large dog yelps when the fish leaps out of the water and slaps him with its tail.
“That is your letter of introduction,” the messenger tells Luke. The man gradually becomes less jumpy as the thought of going home appears in his mind. “I was given permission by the Duke to do this in case I lost the scrolls. Sadly, both scrolls were with the Paladin who was killed by the zombies that you saved me from. On that scroll I have written your name and explained your previous training. A copy has been magically sent to his majesty, so he is now aware of the situation. Duke Solomon has paid for your enrollment in the academy because you won a tournament held in the city of Freedom. Enrollment was your request upon victory. You will be placed in the advanced classes, so I hope you are prepared for heavy workouts.”
“I’ve survived worse than anything this academy can dish out,” Luke claims with a confident smile.
“Selenia Hamilton is a very strict teacher and you will have to be careful to keep your mission a secret from everyone, especially her,” the messenger sternly warns him. “Selenia would not be happy to know that this mission is going on under her nose without her approval. So, please be careful. The life of the heir is dependent on you staying in charge of this mission.” The man stops talking, but he quickly remembers another warning. “Also, do not tell any of the students or the veteran instructors about why you are really there. If the instructors or students find out then they might attempt to locate the heir themselves. We don’t want the heir to know that an agent of Duke Solomon is in the academy or that there is danger. My lord desires minimal interference with the heir’s studies. Do you understand all that I have said?”
Luke scratches his head. “I think I understand, but I still need a picture of the heir.”
The messenger stares at his feet and starts breathing heavy. “I wish I could give you some help in that regard. I lost the sketch of the heir when the Paladin was killed and I have never personally seen the heir. I do not even know what the heir’s gender is. Maybe I should find someone who knows what the heir looks like. That might be best before sending you in . . . but then the Lich could get the heir before I find help. This is not good. All I know is that the heir is a first year student at the academy, which is always the largest class that they have. This mission is becoming a disaster.”
Luke puts his hand on the messenger’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes. The half-elf makes sure to use a soft voice as he says, “Don’t worry. I will go and protect this person with my life. I have seen Duke Solomon in passing when he visited Haven to personally purchase weapons from my father. Maybe I can use the great Duke’s appearance to help me find out who the heir is. You can tell the Duke that I promise to get the job done. On my honor as a forest tracker and a member of the Callindor family, I will succeed.”
“Thank you, young sir!” the messenger exclaims, giving the half-elf a brief hug. “I shall leave immediately to tell the Duke of your courage and see if any assistance can be sent.” With a final handshake, the messenger walks away and happily whistles as he goes.
“That is one traumatized man, Stiletto. He sounded pretty scatter-brained, but I think I got the basics,” Luke mentions, pulling out some stale rations to eat. “Now, if I remember my maps correctly, the academy shouldn’t be too far away. Probably no more than half a day from where we are now, so we will get some sleep and leave at night. That way we can arrive at the academy in time for a free breakfast. That’s the best plan since I’m almost out of trail rations and hunting will waste time.”
Luke and Stiletto yawn in unison. “By the gods, running at top speed for a few miles and then fighting those zombies was more tiring than I thought it would be. I must be getting out of shape, so a military academy will have some extra benefits. I’ll take first watch and you can take the second. Try not to get in a fight with a hawk this time. You’re allergic to their feathers and I don’t want to carry you again. You aren’t a puppy anymore.”
Stiletto briefly stares at Luke before going back to wrestling with a small river shark that he caught. The fish is still thrashing its tail fin, but the dog keeps it pinned under its front paws. A victorious look is on Stiletto’s face as he takes a bite out of the long dorsal fin.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know exactly what I’m doing,” Luke declares, his jaw aching from chewing the tough rations. “Aside from the Lich and whatever shot at me, this should be easy. Besides, the heir would be in trouble if I hadn’t taken the job. So what if I lied about my actual experience? A person has to take his opportunities when he gets them. A few feeble lies used to earn an assignment to protect an innocent are a means to a noble end. So stop looking at me like that and go to sleep.”
Stiletto finishes eating and rolls onto his side, falling asleep within minutes. Luke closes his eyes and contently absorbs the surrounding noises of Visindor Forest. The running water and singing birds start to make him drowsy. To stop himself from falling asleep, Luke opens his eyes and pulls out his sabers to look them over. His left hand saber is flawless while his right hand sabers has a fresh scuffmark. Luke sighs in annoyance and looks at Stiletto who is peacefully growling and smacking his lips in his sleep.
“That last zombie’s ribcage was tougher than I expected,” Luke mutters under his breath. “It made an obvious mark on my saber. Guess I’ll have to clean this blade up again before we get to the academy. Mom always said that first impressions are essential.”
The warm sunlight on his face causes Luke to doze off before his watch is over. It is a few hours later when Stiletto wakes up to the smell of fresh blood. The dog cautiously follows the scent to the riverbank. Luke remains in a deep sleep as Stiletto barks with all his might. Eventually, the dog gives up trying to get the half-elf’s attention and sits on his haunches. Stiletto quietly watches as the messenger's mutilated body gets carried away by the strong currents. Several river sharks are already nibblin
g on it as it fades into the distance.
2
The grass is still moist with dew by the time Luke and Stiletto come within sight of the military academy. Luke is awe-struck by the academy, which is surrounded by an enormous wooden wall. Even more impressive than the wall is the sixty-yard kill zone around the complex. The forest tracker feels exposed and defenseless as he crosses this land where nothing is taller than a blade of grass. There are no guards on the wall and the doors open to a peaceful courtyard where a few leafy shrubs have been planted. Luke can see the top of several trees behind buildings, but none of them rise higher than the wall. The grass of the courtyard is a crisp green, but it has been matted down from constantly being walked on by the academy’s inhabitants. Luke notices that most of the buildings are made of red brick and pale wood. Each structure is a one-story building that has its front to the courtyard and its back to the wall. As he looks around, Luke can see a dark plume of smoke rising from behind a building with yellow flags along the roof. He assumes that the smoke is coming from a blacksmith studio, but the building is out of sight. The only person in view is an elderly woman who is peeling vegetables by a building with several open windows and a cauldron sign above the door. Luke continues to scan the academy grounds, making his way past a lonely fountain. He stops in front of a four-story building of gray stone that looks more like a gothic castle than an office building. Gargoyles adorn the corner towers while two elven knight statues stand guard at the front doors. The heavily reinforced doors open into a brightly lit lobby that leads Luke to a large, cluttered desk.
“Hello! Is anyone in here?” Luke calls out.
His voice echoes throughout the building as a light turns on behind a nearby door. A gravelly, male voice begins swearing in several languages before the door is kicked open. A middle-aged man with a wooden cane steps out of the back room and makes his way to the desk. His clothes are wrinkled and the ring of salt-and-pepper hair around his head is filled with knots. Only his black beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and groomed. The cane creaks every time the muscular man puts his full weight on the flimsy tool. Luke takes note of the predatory look in the veteran’s light brown eyes. As the man approaches, the only thought that goes through Luke’s mind is that this warrior must be a legend.
“Of course someone is here. Why would I leave the door open if nobody was in here? Now, what the hell do you want?” the grizzled man demands before clearing his throat and spitting into a bucket. “You better not be some brat that’s come to challenge Selenia. If so then you got another think coming because you look like you can barely hold your own against a five-year-old halfling who lost his favored arm to a rabid cat. So, what the hell do you want here?” The man slumps behind the oak desk, swinging his bum leg on top and knocking over a pile of scrolls. This mistake leads to more swearing and a strong fist putting a small dent in the hardwood desk.
“Do you need some help, sir?” Luke politely asks. He bends down to grab a scroll, but the man’s cane hits him in the back of the neck before his mind registers the sounds of movement. Luke slowly gets up from the floor and rubs the throbbing spot on his neck.
“I can handle myself very well. Just because some of my parts are damaged doesn’t mean my speed and reflexes are destroyed. I don’t need some puppy warrior to be my helper,” the man snarls, using the cane to flip the scrolls back onto the desk. “So, do you have a name or should I make something up for you? Better make it quick because I don’t have any patience this morning.”
Luke bows and puts his hands behind his back. “My name is Luke Callindor and I have come to train at this academy. Here is-”
The man starts laughing before Luke can finish his long-rehearsed introduction. “You’re a Callindor? I should have known from those twin blades and your eyes, but I guess I’m not as sharp as I used to be. It’s been a long time since I . . . dealt with one of your lineage. Is your family still living in Haven? It's been a long time since I ventured out there. I used to be a great adventurer myself, but I don’t get around much these days for obvious reason.” The old warrior pats his leg and grins like a cagey wolf. “My name is Kevin Masterson.”
“I’ve heard of you, sir. You are one of the greatest shortsword warriors alive and the teacher of many decorated warriors. You’re one of the modern day legends who inspired me to become a warrior. I hope you will excuse my admiration, sir,” Luke says, his face turning bright red. Kevin’s amused grin helps Luke compose himself and fight back his awe. “I would like to state my reason for being here and why I should be accepted without my lineage playing a factor in your decision. I do not want to get by on my family name.”
“Interesting . . . proceed,” Kevin responds, a curious glint in his eyes.
“I won a tournament to gain a favor from Duke Solomon. I chose to be granted his sponsorship in attending this academy,” Luke proudly explains, producing the messengers scroll. “Here is the scroll that Duke Solomon wanted me to give to whoever was in charge of accepting new students.”
Kevin takes the scroll and reads it over before another wild grin crosses his face. He tucks the scroll into his tunic, standing up to get a better look at Luke. “We here at the Hamilton Military Academy only take in the best that Windemere has to offer. I agree that your name should not be enough to get you into our institution, but it helps whether you like it or not. Your success in this tournament shows that you have some skill, but I wish the Duke had told us about such a competition. This is the first I’ve ever heard of it and the only one who hates surprises more than me is Selenia.”
“As I said, I chose this as my prize without the Duke’s prior knowledge,” Luke contends, hoping to keep the Duke out of trouble.
“You definitely sound like a Callindor,” Kevin claims, his eyes locking with Luke’s nervous gaze. “There are some questions that I must ask before I agree to let you join us. This scroll tells me that you were involved in a Weapon Dragon hunt. I find that very impressive considering you can’t be any older than twenty and that’s being generous. Weapon Dragons of any kind are for warriors who are more seasoned than a young pup.” His eyes narrow challengingly as he adds. “Care to explain how you helped in this hunt?”
Luke begins to sweat a little while he smiles and silently curses the messenger. A tournament that never happened would have been easy to talk his way around. He entered enough real tournaments to know how they operate, but a dragon hunt was another thing entirely. He had never seen a living Weapon Dragon much less fought one. The more he thinks, the more the idea of trying to make such a claim sounds ridiculous. Any adventuring group foolish enough to take an inexperienced warrior on such a hunt would have been wiped out. Unless they took the warrior along as bait, but that scenario wouldn’t say much for Luke’s common sense. The young warrior continues to smile as a lie begins to form in his mind and roll down to his dry tongue.
Kevin lets out a bellowing cough to get Luke’s attention again. “Well, kid. You better start yapping. I have better things to do than deal with a humble dragon hunter who can only smile like an idiot.”
“I am a forest tracker and my primary role in the hunt was to help locate an Axe Dragon before it could cause more damage to the local villages,” Luke slowly and carefully explains. “It was a job that I received through the Serabian military, so I had a small army to hide . . . I mean, work with. During the actual slaying, I went for the eyes because the rest of the body was too heavily armored for my sabers to get through. At the time, I was unaware that I could slip my blades between some of the underbelly scales until a spearman took me aside after the hunt. Honestly, I did not get involved in the actual battle until the dragon was pinned to the ground. It was my first hunt and I was scared to get close when it had full mobility. That hunt is why I was hoping to train here. It showed me that I needed to learn more than basic sword fighting to succeed as an adventurer.”
Kevin clears his nose with a boorish snort, wiping his hand on an ink-stained rag. “Still, you
survived the hunt and you have mentioned two of the few ways a swordsman can do damage to a Weapon Dragon. From the wording of this scroll, we can’t turn you away unless you prove that you are not fit to be here. That means more than just physical fitness, boy. Selenia and the other instructors will want a lot of discipline from you,” Kevin warns him before pulling out a fresh scroll and a short quill. “Now to give you some class assignments. I will sign you up for basic military tactics, advanced archery, blacksmithing, monster lore, handicap fighting, and geography of Windemere. Selenia will decide on your combat classes within a day or two. As you saw, there are four dormitories in our complex and one of them is for the female students only. I will have your jewels on a dagger if I catch you in the girls’ dorm. You will be assigned to the Elfstar group, which resides in dormitory B. Your sergeant instructor is Thomas. Almost everyone is out for the morning run, except for the cook, the blacksmith, the stable hands, and me. Meet with Thomas at breakfast and he will show you where to store your things. Are there any other questions?”
Luke is about to say no until he hears a sudden sneeze from his right. “Where can I leave Stiletto, sir?”
The dog growls at the old warrior, getting a loud roar in return. The large dog slinks behind Luke, keeping his eyes on Kevin. The old man cracks a small smile before fixing a stack of papers on his desk.
“You can house the fleabag in the stables,” Kevin replies with a lazy wave. “They’re in that direction and you can’t miss them. One of the other sergeant instructors has elven greyhounds. There should be enough room for your drool bucket. Now, get going or you’ll miss out on the food. By the way, I hope you rested up before you arrived. Today was the last day you could sleep in. Tomorrow, you join the run.”
Beginning of a Hero (Legends of Windemere) Page 4
