Wielder's Awakening

by T. B. Christensen

  The High King still had hope of avoiding the war. The Empress of Balthus had a large army surrounding her in Rankdra. The High King hoped that she would be able to put an end to the rogue army. She had plenty of soldiers, not nearly as many as he, but more than the rogue army. The only disturbing thing was the news of how Beking had fallen.

  “Do you really believe the reports of what happened at Beking?” the High King asked Baron Mikel.

  “I do not know if I believe them or not. What do you think about it?” the baron returned.

  “I do not want to believe them, but I am compelled to,” the High King replied with a shake of his head. “I would not think such things were possible, yet several trustworthy spies all gave basically the same version of the fall of the city. I cannot disregard their reports as untrue, and I cannot fully accept what they said either. All I can do is prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”

  The reports that had reached them over the last few days had definitely been disturbing. He had not believed the first report, but when he had received a second, he had considered some of it to be truthful. With the arrival of the third report, he was convinced that somehow his spies were telling the truth of what they had seen. He only wondered if it was possible that their eyes had deceived them.

  According to their reports, the army had approached the north wall of the city of Beking in a very disorderly manner in the early afternoon. The army pulled up a considerable distance from the city and waited. As the few troops in Beking watched from atop the walls, a lone man broke away from the army. The tall, light haired man advanced unaccompanied several arm spans towards the walls. He then stopped and raised his hands into the air. There was suddenly a rush of mighty wind and lightning struck down from a clear sky. Bolt after bolt slammed into the city with loud booms, destroying houses and buildings. As the inhabitants of the city began to run in chaos, the troops watched dumbfounded and helpless atop the walls.

  The lightning then stopped and only the screams of the frantic inhabitants could be heard. The tall, light haired man smiled and clapped his hands together as two gigantic bolts of lightning met at the center of the city wall. With a deafening crash, that section of the wall exploded as the troops above it flew into the air along with its stones. As the debris settled, the inhabitants of the city watched the gigantic gap in expectation and horror. The sound of a deep horn broke the tangible silence, and the rogue army rushed forward and poured through the gap in the wall.

  The inhabitants had run for their lives as the city’s troops tried to buy them time, but the thieves had shown no mercy. The majority of the city dwellers escaped to the south towards Rankdra, but many others were slaughtered. As the thieves defiled the city and its inhabitants, their leader watched from without the walls with a smile on his face. He had remained outside the city with only two other men, confident that he faced no danger as his army razed the once grand city of Beking. By nightfall, much of the city had been burnt to the ground.

  The night air had been full of tainted celebration as the rogue army reveled in the spoils of Beking. The next day the army had moved their camp into the city and taken possession of everything left that the city had to offer after the destruction that had befallen it. All three reports the High King had received agreed on how the city had fallen and all of the destruction that had followed.

  The High King could not deny the fact that the city had fallen and the devastation that had ensued. There had been rumors for months that a mighty wielder led the army, and now he was inclined to believe there was some truth in the rumors. He supposed that the leader was a skilled magician, but the power he had supposedly unleashed was far beyond the skills of a simple magician. The High King of course knew the basic history of the wielder wars, but that had been so long ago. Most did not even accept the stories as factual. The High King did not know if it was possible for a man to command the powers of nature, but he would be ready for anything.

  “With your permission, my High King.” The High King Raldon left his troubled thoughts and beckoned the messenger into the room. “The troops are ready and waiting outside the east entrance.”

  “Thank you,” the High King said as he turned from the messenger to the baron. “Shall we go?”

  Without waiting for an answer, the High King walked through the door with the baron at his heels. Both were dressed in armor and warm cloaks. The first detachment of troops would soon leave for Candus to guard the gateway into Kalia. Baron Mikel would be leading the troops, and Gavin would follow in the spring with a larger group. The High King was confident the rogue army would not reach the borders of Kalia until at least late spring, and by then sufficient troops would be in place to stop the rogue army’s advances.

  They were soon in the courtyard and regally mounted their steeds. Kalista, Gavin, and the baroness were there and ready, along with the royal escort. At the command of the High King, the party rode out of the courtyard and towards the main gate of the city. The baron knew what his orders were and the preparations that he must make before the rest of the army arrived in the spring. The High King was confident in the baron’s abilities and was glad he would not have to worry about that aspect of the impending conflict.

  The party pulled up in front of the waiting troops outside the grand city wall. The High King raised his fist into the air and all of the troops dropped to a knee and saluted. He then raised them and offered the customary sending off speech. When he was finished, he handed the ceremonial command staff to Baron Mikel. The baron accepted the command and saluted. He then rode down to the front of the small army. When he was in place at the head of the army, the trumpets were blown, and the army began its wintery march to Candus.

  The High King watched as the disciplined army marched away in unison in a tight formation. At his side, his daughter and future son-in-law looked on; Gavin watching his parents ride away, and Kalista rubbing the new diamond ring on her dainty hand. The High King smiled as the sun reflected off of his daughter’s engagement ring. Despite all of the troubles in his life, he believed that things were going to work out fine. With a last glance at the army marching into the sun, the High King Raldon d’ Roshedrian turned his horse and led the party back into the city. With the seeing off of the troops completed, he now had other tasks to see to.

  * * * * *

  Wraith looked out the window of the ancient tower. With the light of the rising sun, he could see across the steamy marsh to the edges of the grand city of Calyn in the distance. He had not been in the city for almost a week. Even with the increased security in the city it had been too easy to kill, and he was getting more and more restless. He hadn’t had any luck in discovering what it was that Kadrak had sent him to find. The stone had not changed colors since he had been in the city. He was sure that the young man must still be in the city, for almost no one traveled at this time of year, but among so many people it was next to impossible without the help of the stone to find someone he had never before seen.

  Wraith left the window and descended the stairs of the ancient tower. The ruins he had found deep in the marsh were quite fascinating and made an excellent hide away. No one ventured this deep into the marsh, so here he was free of unwanted disturbances. He had been pleasantly surprised when he stumbled upon the rumored ruins. As for the supposed treasure and monster that guarded it, he had seen no signs. Several buildings were still intact enough to be used for shelter. The tower was amazingly almost completely whole along with the adjacent building. He had taken a room in the lower part of the thin tower for his personal quarters. There were enough other rooms and supplies for his guests that would soon be joining him.

  He would be venturing into the city today but with a different purpose than before. He had decided to do something a little more exciting than kill regular citizens in their sleep; something a little bigger; something that would really send the city into an uproar. But to implement his plan he would need a little help. Today he would begin to recruit some follower
s. When he had the numbers he wanted, he would act. And then the grandest city in the world would really question what was happening to their peaceful land.

  * * * * *

  The fire raged in the hearth lending heat to the lone person in the room. Kadrak sat, lounging in a plush cushioned chair. The amenities of the small palace of Beking were much better than living out of his tent. He had enjoyed sleeping in a luxurious bed once again. He wished, however, that all of the servants had not been killed. He made a note to remember that when they took Rankdra. It would have been nice to dine on gourmet food and to be waited on by professional servers. His army cook was competent, but Kadrak was growing tired of his cooking. The variety of food had at least improved since he had taken Beking.

  Kadrak pushed himself up from the chair and strode out onto the balcony to view what was left of the city. Most of the city lay in ruins. What remained looked quite desolate in the cold, morning light. He chuckled as he thought of how easy it had been to take the city. A decent show of his power had sent the city into chaos, and his undisciplined army had easily destroyed the confused and frightened troops of Beking. His thieves had then destroyed just about everyone and everything else. Kadrak had given them free reign this time. He had even encouraged the destruction, but the fall of Rankdra would be different.

  Kadrak had wanted the news of what happened at Beking to spread. He wanted all to know that he was not to be trifled with. The destruction would not be repeated unless there was resistance. He had already sent messengers to the Empress in Rankdra giving her the opportunity to surrender before he descended on her lovely city with his troops in the spring. If she gave him the throne and the supplies he needed, the city would be left intact. If not, Kadrak and his army would once again descend in their fury.

  His army would be under stricter orders of what they could and could not do, though. A city without inhabitants to work it and keep it productive was not that great of a prize. Kadrak wanted respect and power, but he also wanted the love of the people who would be his subjects. He would show mercy on those who asked for it and reward those who were loyal to him. His army had already tasted the spoils he had promised them. They would be ready to follow his leadership once again in the spring. By the end of winter they would be restless and eager to fight.

  After gazing over his prize for several moments longer, Kadrak returned to the cushioned chair. Things were working out exactly as he had planned. Beking had fallen easily, and his fame was spreading like wildfire. When the prideful Empress of Balthus refused his demands, which he was sure she would, her precious army would be defeated, and he would take her city from her. And when the mighty army of Balthus had fallen and the Empress knelt at his feet, all the land would fear the mighty Wielder Kadrak!

  Part Three: Awakening

  28

  Crack! The practice swords smashed together once again. Traven pressed the attack as his opponent strained to repel it. Then Traven was on the defense, blocking slashes and dodging swipes. He jumped back as a swipe nearly snagged his clothes and then dove forward in a burst of speed, surprising his opponent. Traven slashed with his sword into the back of the other soldier as he flew past. He then tucked into a roll and popped back up to his feet with a smile. This was the third time he had beaten a blademaster! The small crowd of soldiers watching applauded as Traven shook hands with his opponent, Captain Kalthor.

  “You got really lucky that time,” Kalthor stated. “You are getting better and better. Keep up the good work.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Traven said as his captain saluted him and left.

  A few soldiers came over to congratulate Traven before heading off. When everyone had left, he gathered up his things and headed into the barracks still breathing heavily. By the time he arrived at his bunk, his breathing was back to normal. He plopped down on the short, narrow bed to rest for a while. He had been training harder than ever, and it was definitely paying off. He had now beaten three of the seven blade masters in the royal army. He had no hopes of beating Blaize but wanted to beat the other three before the army marched for Candus in a couple of weeks.

  Traven let his body fall back on his bed and tried to get comfortable. He had slept well since joining the army because he was always tired, but he was not sure if he had ever really been comfortable. That was what he missed about the academy, the comfortable living conditions. His bed had been so comfortable, and he had had his own room. In the barracks he shared his room with nineteen other soldiers and only had a small cupboard for his personal space.

  When he had joined the army, he had not really thought about the difficult living conditions. However, he had easily adjusted. After Blaize had helped him enlist, Traven had been assigned to a squadron of new recruits. They all had over a month in the army, and at first Traven had been afraid he would have trouble catching up to them. It turned out almost opposite. His physical fitness and his skill with the sword were already far past that of the new recruits. After a couple of weeks when he had learned the basic procedures and drills, he had been moved from the beginning class into a squadron of regular soldiers.

  Traven had been excited for the advancement but was saddened by the coldness of the other soldiers who were still in the beginning class. He hoped for a warmer reception among the normal soldiers and had found it in part. Some made it a point to let him know that if he thought he was something special he was not, while others actually sought him out to practice against. Traven found that he got along the best with the older veterans. They respected his skills and were willing to offer advice and help him. Many of the younger soldiers seemed to only care about the fun that they could have when they were allotted leave time.

  Traven opened his eyes as the first dinner bell rang and closed them again. He was definitely getting tired of the mess food. At the academy many of the students had complained about the food they were served, but compared with the barracks’ mess, the academy was fine dining. The food in the army was to give energy and strength, not to please the palate. Traven had first thought it strange that the mess served basically the same food the soldiers would eat when traveling and when fighting battles. However, he had soon realized the wisdom of it with the help of Blaize. Blaize had explained that if you could learn to go without certain things when they were available, then when they were not available, you would not be affected by a loss. It helped the soldiers to endure war better and be more disciplined.

  Kalia’s royal army prided itself in its discipline. Traven had learned the truth behind it. The soldiers had a very structured day and were obligated to show proper manners and obey their officers immediately and without question. How they spent their nights and their free days was a whole different matter. All of their disappointment, anger, pride, and rambunctiousness burst forth. Many soldiers used their deprivations as an excuse to party excessively when they had a chance.

  He supposed they weren’t really deprived at all in the royal army. They had shelter, food, and clothing provided for them and a salary to boot to use as they desired. The soldiers with families usually sent most of the money home, while the younger soldiers and the older bachelors wasted their money on drinking and gambling. Traven had saved most of the money he had received. He really didn’t have any expenses since he didn’t have a family yet and didn’t enjoy drinking or gambling.

  “Traven! Hurry up or you’re going to miss dinner.”

  He opened his eyes and sat up with a yawn.

  “I’m coming,” Traven replied as he stood up.

  “You might be a good swordsman, but if you don’t eat you’ll not last very long against anyone.”

  Traven smiled as he followed Luthor to the mess hall. Luthor was probably one of the oldest soldiers in the army. He was one of the few that had actually fought in a war before. He had fought thirty years earlier when Argont tried to separate itself from Kalia. Traven liked him a lot. Luthor had taken it upon himself to look out for him. Traven found it amusing since he didn’t need anyone
to look out for him. However, he enjoyed the friendship. He liked listening to the older man’s stories. In him Traven had found someone that reminded him of his grandfather. Soon they both had their steaming food, and they sat down at a table with some of the other veterans.

  “So I heard you beat Captain Kalthor today,” Wenry said. “He’s a blademaster for those of you who don’t know.”

  “Yes, we all know that Kalthor is a blademaster,” Luthor replied. “When there are only seven in the army it is easy to remember. Though soon there might be eight!” Traven smiled as Luthor winked at him.

  “Well, I think that Captain Kalthor is getting rusty,” another soldier said. “I saw the fight, and he didn’t look as quick as he used to be. No disrespect to you, Traven, but I think I could have beaten him too.”

  “If you think you are so good, Tom, why don’t you fight Traven tomorrow?” Luthor returned. “The Captain only looked slow because Traven’s so fast!”

  Traven smiled as the veterans began arguing over who could beat who and who had fought better in actual battles. He listened as he finished his food. Luthor and Tom had been friends forever, but sometimes it was hard to believe since they were always arguing. Someone who didn’t know them might even think the two were actually upset at each other, but Traven knew it was just their way of joking around.

  “Did ya all hear about the army in Balthus?” Wenry interrupted. “They’re moving on Rankdra.”

  Traven perked up at the mention of the rogue army. He had heard many fantastical rumors since being in the army, but after questioning Blaize he had learned that some of what he had heard was actually true.