by I K Spencer
"Anthen?" Dunsten was looking at him with a curious frown.
"What. What is it?" He turned to face the youth.
"I asked if you were all right. Your face has gone as pale as fresh snow."
"Oh. Yes. I’m fine. It looks as though we have some important company," Anthen countered, trying to evade the younger man's stare.
Dunsten turned to watch and Anthen forced himself to search the faces again. Between the advance guard soldiers he unmistakably saw the visage of the man who had claimed to be his king the previous evening. Anthen's legs buckled with the shock and he fell heavily to his knees.
"'Tis the King," choked Anthen, battling the urge to retch.
He pulled the younger cadet down beside him, bowed his head and fought to control his emotions. He sorely needed the few minutes it took before the mounted riders halted a few feet from the pair.
"Rise," bid the firm, gentle voice that Anthen instantly recognized.
The pair rose but continued to bow their heads in silence.
"Are one of you the cadet called Anthen?"
Anthen looked up and saw the same strong face but this time beneath a crown of shimmering gold. Jamen smiled a wry smile that told Anthen that he knew how the young man was suffering. He was wearing golden, decorative armor over an immaculate white tunic and sitting comfortably astride the whitest stallion Anthen had ever seen. He leaned forward and extended a white-gloved hand down from atop the large animal.
"My life for you, Your Grace," responded Anthen weakly.
He raised his arm and Jamen gripped his forearm firmly. Jamen held both the younger man's arm and gaze longer than usual, trying to reassure the shocked cadet.
"I present the Queen and my daughter, the Princess," announced the king, indicating the two ladies just behind his right shoulder with a graceful sweep of his hand.
"It is my greatest honor to meet you both," Anthen replied and bowed deeply.
The queen smiled and nodded to Anthen. She rode sidesaddle as was the custom for women of noble blood. Her white-and-gold gown was a match for her husband’s regal garb. She was fair and adorned with golden hair intricately woven beneath her matching crown. She was every bit the great beauty that Anthen had heard her to be.
Anthen turned to look at the Princess, who met his gaze and nodded slightly. She was slim and beautiful like her mother but had the auburn tresses of her father. He felt the color rising in his cheeks under her scrutiny.
"I see you have taken advantage of the gift of an unusually warm spring sun," offered the queen, glancing briefly down from his face.
Anthen caught the hint and quickly pulled his cloak up and over his shoulders. Dunsten did the same.
"I beg your pardon, my Lady," Anthen returned awkwardly. "I am in no proper state to be in your presence. The bow practices can get rather spirited."
Anthen noted from the corner of his eye that the princess seemed to be amused at his discomfort and his face grew even more flushed.
"No apologies necessary, Anthen," interrupted Jamen, coming to his rescue. "There is nothing wrong with honest sweat and neither that nor a warrior's form will offend my wife and daughter."
The king offered his ladies a look of playful admonishment.
"Sire, My Lady, Princess. May I present my companion, Cadet Dunsten."
The royal family shifted their gaze and nodded to Dunsten, who bowed in return.
"Dunsten, you must be a fair marksman to be a practicing with the likes of Anthen," queried the king. "I have heard much of his great skill."
The younger cadet shook his head. "He is the master and I am the struggling pupil, Sire. None are his equal."
"Your Grace, the lad has great promise," offered Anthen, embarrassed by the praise. "He has improved much in the last year and has a few years yet to perfect his skill here at the academy."
"Not so with you, eh?" proposed the king, returning his gaze to Anthen.
"No, Sire. I will be off in just a few days."
Jamen dismounted and moved to face Anthen eye-to-eye. He gripped the young man's arm and clasped him on the shoulder.
"May the gods go with you Anthen. Our future is in your hands." The king's tone was casual but his eyes conveyed the seriousness of the words to Anthen alone.
"My life is for you, Your Majesty," whispered the troubled cadet, who remembered little of the rest of the royal visit.
********
A short time later, Anthen sat alone in his darkened barracks cell. His face was wet but no longer from perspiration. He could not remember the last time he had cried, certainly not since he had risen from an average cadet to an outstanding one. He told himself it was unacceptable for a guardsman to shed tears but the grief would not be denied.
While watching the royal entourage depart earlier Anthen's attention had been drawn to a man riding at the rear when the man turned to give the cadet an appraising look. The man had only a few years on him and since he wore no uniform, Anthen knew he must be a fellow guardsman employed as a bodyguard in the service of the royal family. Anthen realized with shock that, if Garrick’s suspicions were true, this stranger could now be a foe just as easily as an ally.
That was crushing blow. To him, it was the same as finding out that his family had betrayed him. The Guard was the only family he’d known for most of his life and in the back of his mind it was the one support he knew he could always count on, until now! In a few days he would leave his friends at the academy, then he would be utterly alone, without a single trustworthy contact.
Fear gripped him for the first time in several years. How could he, not even yet an apprentice, hope to prevail against a veteran guardsman like Cidrl? How could he resist whatever sorcery and deceit Cidrl used to enslave all his previous apprentices? How could he possibly fool such a man that he knew nothing of the king’s suspicions when he could barely conceal the terror he felt? Did torture await him? He bitterly realized that he was a pawn being sacrificed. And what of his protection? He laughed sarcastically at the thought of the fat, old man who would be his only ally.
Over the next few hours the youth's emotional battle silently raged but in the end his training and nature forced him to come to terms with his fate. He eventually realized he had but one option—to try. He would never refuse his king and certainly could never run away so that left no option but to do his best.
Resigned to his role, the young man turned his attention to how to prepare for his assignment. His first mission, he decided, would be to learn as much as he could in the next few days about Cidrl, the region near Gates, and Dolonar.
It was after dark before the cadet roused himself to get supper. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was before dawn. He stripped and bathed, washing away the tears as well as the sweat and grime from the morning's activity. His face was pale and drawn as he dressed and strode from his small room.
The young man that left the cadet quarters was very different from the one that trod the same path only the day before. Only twenty-four hours earlier Anthen’s step had been light with hope and excitement at his imminent graduation and life as a guardsman. Though no less committed to his duty, his hopes and happiness were now laid waste. The slumped figure who strode from the barracks was empty, as cold as the moonless night into which he disappeared.
Chapter 7
Anthen awoke, as usual, before dawn on his last full day at the academy. He lit the candle next to his bed, then slid his arm back under the warm covers. It was cold in his unheated cell and he could see his breath in the dim light. Delaying his morning routine, he lay thinking for a few minutes.
The days since the pivotal meeting with the king, though very difficult for the troubled cadet, had been far from idle. He had countless preparations to make for his journey and he used every spare moment to further his knowledge of Cidrl as well as the history and current political climate of the region. He made inquiries with every master at the academy that he knew. Although such extensive investigation was not typ
ical, this activity was not viewed suspiciously since Anthen had a reputation for being very thorough.
Of his future master, Anthen learned little beyond the basic history of the guardsman's career. He learned of Cidrl's role in the last Dolonarian war as the leader of a cavalry unit, then his subsequent assignment to the border region about a dozen years ago. Anthen knew he was about forty years old with a tall and stocky build.
Anthen’s training in history was extensive, especially as it pertained to the realm's neighbors, and he learned nothing new of the long and brutal history between the warring countries. On the other hand he knew very little of the current situation in Dolonar and his queries added little to that limited knowledge. This he expected, though, since it was Cidrl's responsibility to brief him on the subject. The little information he did unearth was far from fresh, since none but the suspected traitor had covered the region for over a decade. He did obtain some hearsay originating from recent visitors to the border region. There was talk of a growing number of disappearances in the area and he got the sense that there was increasing fear among the common folk but he knew that travelers liked to talk and few were finicky about preserving the truth.
The future apprentice learned that the area was more unsettled than he had previously thought. The roads between Verilia and Gates were said to be in very poor state and populated with highwaymen, east of the Savior Mountains. Gates was considered an isolated frontier town and little trade was conducted beyond Verilia. He was provided with detailed maps of the route and border region, which he studied for hours until he had committed them to memory. He hadn't known that the region east of Gates to the border was so desolate. It was mostly uninhabitable swamp and wastelands, as was much of Dolonar itself, and the primary reason for its aggression; the Dolonarians coveted the rich border plains that surrounded Gates.
Another of his preparations had been to meet briefly with Garrick to make arrangements for the journey. After studying maps they had guessed the excursion from Carael to Gates, the largest settlement along the border, should take about ten days to a fortnight for a mounted rider traveling alone. The journey was comprised of three legs of increasing difficulty—the easy ride to the city of Verilia, the strenuous ascent through the mountains to the famed Dolonhold fortress, and the dangerous passage through the untamed border region to Gates. It was decided that the pair should not travel together since Cidrl might have sent spies to keep an eye on the apprentice during the trip. Thus, Garrick would track Anthen and, to make the younger man's trail easier to follow, his mount had been fitted with a special shoe that would leave a unique print.
Anthen finally arose from his warm bed and kindled the dying embers in his small fireplace into a healthy blaze. All senior cadets were furnished private rooms the last couple of years before graduation and were treated as adults. Sixteen was considered an adult on the outside and the serious young cadets matured even faster. Dunsten might get this very room upon his departure.
He thought for a moment about his friend; he would miss Dunsten the most. They had enjoyed their last practice together the previous morning and he had presented the younger cadet with a gift—his old crossbow updated with his new automatic revolver. It was the only time Anthen had ever seen the redheaded youth speechless. They both were near to tears when they said their good-byes.
The fire quickly warmed the small room and he put on water to heat for bathing and coffee. He looked slowly around the nearly empty room. Over the past few days he had discarded everything he would not take along. All that remained fit in his bedroll, saddlebags, or the small pack he carried. He had organized the kit into piles on his table, the only furniture in the narrow room besides a wooden stool and his small bed. The table and stool were located opposite the door, underneath a small, shuttered window. His bed was along one side and the fireplace on the other.
While the water was heating, Anthen went through his daily morning exercise program. He stripped to just a loincloth and did a sequence of strength and stretching exercises. His strength exercises included push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and knee bends. He finished by walking on his hands and repeatedly lowering himself until the top of his head touched the floor without losing his balance.
By the time he finished he was breathing heavily and slick with sweat. He poured some of the hot water into a coffeepot to steep while he used the rest to bathe, then wash the sweat-soaked loincloth. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the room and triggered Anthen's hunger. He thought of the hot breakfast waiting for him downstairs, musing that he would be getting his own meals more often than not from now on. He sipped the strong brew as he dressed, then refilled his mug and went down to eat.
After a solitary breakfast, Anthen returned to his room to finish packing. He opened the shutters to see the breaking dawn, taking no pleasure from the clear sky that promised a nice day for his graduation. He used to dream about this day but that had been taken away from him by Garrick and the king. The sharp pain had dulled but he felt only grim resolve.
He spent the next few hours sipping coffee and packing. His kit consisted of his weapons, chainmail tunic, a telescope, cooking gear, bedroll, personal items, clothes, maps, and special secret items such the green powder used to expose the hidden guardsman tattoo. His weaponry consisted of a short broadsword, a dagger, and of course, both crossbow and handbow. He packed everything except his best suit and the traveling garb of soft leather he would don in the morning. He had arranged to pick up a small parcel of food from the kitchen in the morning for the journey but he would mostly hunt and forage for his meals when a roadhouse was not handy.
Anthen changed to his best suit and put on his cloak, slipping the handbow into its folds. He left his room and exited the building. The sun was bright but it was brisk for an early spring day. Having some time to kill before the noon ceremony that would mark his graduation, he toured the campus for the final time. Many memories, mostly good ones, dominated his thoughts as he looked at the well-known landmarks. It was not surprising since this was the only real home he remembered, having left his real family at the tender age of five. Almost every building and training area summoned pleasant images in the cadet's mind.
As he stood watching a group of young cadets training with swords, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been an ignorant fool all those years, striving so hard for an ideal that had been just an illusion all along. He quickly forced away such thoughts, though; there was no point now whether he’d been a fool or not. It didn’t matter.
At noon, he entered the outer office of Kaleg, the head administrator at the academy. He did not know the headmaster well but had been presented to him on a few occasions. Two solid-looking men were posted beside the door to Kaleg's chamber. He recognized one as the king's bodyguard who had looked back at him that fateful day on the practice field. The guardsman was taller than Anthen and stared back blankly when the cadet nodded. The other man, shorter and older, returned Anthen's nod with a warm smile. After just a few moments the bald head of Kaleg poked through the doorway and, on seeing Anthen, his chubby red face broke into a big grin. He opened the door wide and beckoned the graduate forward.
"Come in my boy! Come right in."
"Master Kaleg," replied the cadet formally.
Anthen bowed and came forward to grip Kaleg's hand. He tensed with readiness as he walked by the bodyguards but neither moved as he walked through the door. Once inside, Kaleg closed the door again. Anthen knew that the king would be present and he immediately kneeled before the monarch.
"My life for you," he offered respectfully.
"Rise," Jamen commanded and gripped Anthen's arm firmly. "You've met Orneson I trust?" Jamen gestured to the guardsman leader, standing by the windows.
Anthen bowed and went to shake Orneson's hand but the odd man made no move to do the same. Instead he just nodded, without really looking at the younger man.
"Master Orneson," said Anthen, uttering the perfunctory greeting instead of continuing for
ward to shake the guardsman leader's hand.
There was no one else in the room and Anthen had not expected otherwise; a new guardsman entering the field was not an event to be advertised. Kaleg's office was large but not elaborately furnished; like most guardsmen, the administrator had little interest in amenities. A small amount of polite conversation preceded the formal graduation ceremony, the only purpose for the gathering. Then, Anthen knelt and recited the oath of loyalty. Orneson read the words to him from his certificate but he knew them by heart anyway. Both parties said the words in a monotone and Anthen's face betrayed no emotion. He thought he detected a flicker of distress on the king's visage.
Next, all parties signed the certificate read by Orneson, as well as a second copy to be kept at the academy. Anthen, of course, carried no papers that identified him as a guardsman but was given papers that commissioned him as a captain in the realm’s standing army. He would likely fulfill such a role in active warfare and in peacetime the commission guaranteed access to restricted areas and provided a certain level of authority, both of which were often advantageous in his vocation.
The assemblage had a glass of wine to celebrate Anthen's success, then he formally bade them each farewell. He came to Jamen last and the monarch looked at him fiercely, grasping the graduate's hand firmly.
"Well, Anthen. You have demonstrated great potential during your years here and have already proven your worth." The king seemed more relaxed now. He looked around and smiled as he continued the formal speech. "We owe you a great debt for the sacrifices you will make for your king and countrymen. Only the gods know when our paths may cross again so I want to thank you now."
