The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm)

by Brian C. Hager

  One of the officers, spying Vaun and recognizing him as the king’s honored guest, strode over to where the youth stood. “What say you, Vaun Tarsus? Are my men any good?”

  He was an older, rough-looking man with stern features set off by black hair and a mustache, but his voice and demeanor were kind. He had three elm leaves on his breast, denoting him a captain of highest rank and commander of all the royal guard. Only the regular army had higher rankings.

  Vaun nodded. “Aye. They seem capable. I like the Rhythm of their movements, and the music of it sings great skill. The repeated drills seem to be a good way to train, and help the men in feeling their movements, I would think. Was it your idea, Captain...?” The Swordsman had only met the man once and couldn’t recall his name.

  “Stolar. No, it wasn’t my idea. This method was used long before I was even a recruit.” The captain smiled, but Vaun saw puzzlement in his strong brown eyes. Perhaps he thought that Rameners had strange opinions of sword fighting. “So tell me, do you serve in Ramen’s army?”

  The king, as well as Merdel and Drath, had suggested they keep Vaun’s true origin a secret. It would keep anyone from distrusting him or spreading a rumor about him that could possibly leak out of the city and reach their enemy’s ears. It was an easy cover, for Vaun looked as if he might actually be from Ramen, they being a dark-haired people.

  Vaun nodded again. “I did for a short time, but I had to quit in order to serve King Dobry.” Vaun had been the only one formally welcomed by the king. The others were somewhat familiar to the citizens of Bordell, so their presence would hardly be noticed. A black-haired youth carrying a Vaulka on his back, however, was another matter. The journey they were on they said to be an errand personally ordered by the Overlord of the Southern Kingdoms, something not uncommon.

  “I see.” Stolar scratched thoughtfully at his mustache. “You look a little too young, but from your dress I thought perhaps you were a Black Guardsman.”

  They had considered including Vaun in this elite organization to better conceal his astonishing sword skills, but had decided the group was too exclusive to risk naming him as one of them without arousing too much suspicion. The Black Guard was a group of only the best swordsmen who were the personal bodyguards of Ramen’s king. They could also be hired by anyone capable of paying their outrageous price. They had recently begun wearing their swords on their backs, to further proclaim their prowess, which would serve to further conceal the Swordsman’s identity.

  “When you first arrived,” Captain Stolar continued, “I thought King Dobry had finally come to his senses and accepted King Jolar’s offer.” The Ramen king had been offering a pair of Black Guard to King Dobry for many years now, since he was Overlord, but the blond king had always staunchly refused, to the dismay of everyone around him.

  Vaun shook his head. “No. I think I was to be initiated one day soon, though, but this service has put that off for now. I hope to join them when I’ve finished.” Vaun was surprised at how easily he could tell the concocted story, and it even made sense to him.

  “Well, I certainly wish you the best of luck on making it. I hear it’s very difficult. But I was wondering how our men compared to yours. I know Ramen has the best swordsmen in the south, so I thought you might be able to give us a little help with our new men.”

  Vaun considered the question a moment, watching the men train and breathing in the harmony of their drills. Fortunately, Thorne had told him quite a bit about where he was supposed to be from, so he thought he had a pretty good idea of the actual comparison. “Why do you use real swords to spar? Most people use wooden weapons to avoid serious injury.”

  Stolar grunted in amusement. “Many would say we’re crazy, but we train like this with real weapons so the men become accustomed to the weight and feel of the weapon they’re going to be using. Even the most well-made wooden swords cannot fully duplicate a metal one. But we do use wooden swords for actual sparring.” He pointed, and Vaun saw a rack of wooden weapons of all types at the far end of the training ground. “If you’ll notice, the men are only working through established drills and not using full speed or power. There is no attempt at making contact.”

  Vaun nodded, thinking the method a good one.

  Stolar glanced back over at Vaun after several minutes of watching the men. “What do you think? Are we at least half as good as you Rameners?”

  “Well, Captain Stolar.” Vaun drew his sword. “There’s really only one sure way to tell.” He stopped from where he’d begun advancing toward the line of men and turned around. “If it’s all right?”

  The captain nodded. “Of course. Be my guest.” His smile was ironic, obviously thinking Vaun, even if he was from Ramen, a little too young for his men, even though a few looked to be about his age.

  Vaun strode casually over to the recruits, who had now stopped to watch him approach, sword in hand. They had probably either seen or heard of King Dobry’s Ramen guest and seemed anxious to find out if the stories of swordsmen from that land were true. That, and they appeared to want a break from the same old drills.

  “Our good visitor from Ramen is going to test a few of you,” the captain called from behind Vaun. “So please don’t embarrass our king or your officers.” He paused as if considering. “And I suppose you may use your real swords, provided no one needs to visit the healer afterwards.”

  The men laughed and spread out, making a rough circle and debating amongst themselves who would be the first to test the grey-clad youth. Vaun stood in their midst, reminded suddenly of the way his friends at home argued over who was going to try to beat him. Though they each had known he invariably won, they had enjoyed the challenge and hoped to one day surprise him. These thoughts made Vaun wonder if perhaps he wasn’t becoming conceited. He knew he appeared that way now, but figured it was the best way to get a good workout. And practicing alone was getting a little boring. He knew he should never exploit his gifts or take advantage of the king’s men, for he had too much respect for the king and his new abilities to do that, but still he worried that vanity had seeped into his bones along with his Bonding. He hoped not, for he remained convinced someone would eventually beat him.

  He smiled indulgently to himself as he heard “barely more than a boy,” “Ramen swordsmen,” “Vaulka,” and “looks like a Black Guardsman” coming from the soldiers’ discussion of him. Finally, a blond man of medium build stepped up to be the first to test the Swordsman. He stood a few inches taller than Vaun, and had good, strong arms with which to wield his longsword. He had two clusters of pine needles sewn into his shirt, proclaiming him of higher rank than the others.

  He bowed his head slightly to Vaun in acceptance of the challenge, then set himself, his sword out before him. He had a slight smile, as if thinking it amusing that he was to fight someone so young.

  Vaun bowed in return, then leapt at the soldier before he had fully raised his head, his Vaulka reaching out toward the man. It was such a swift, graceful move that several men around the pair gasped in surprise. Vaun’s opponent barely avoided being skewered by dodging to his left and slapping Vaun’s sword away with a powerful swipe of his own sword. He then swung his sword overhead and sliced at Vaun’s back as the youth flew past him.

  Vaun felt the hard surface of his opponent’s sword as it struck his own, shockwaves moving all the way up his arm. In that instant of contact, he found he could tell that the other sword needed sharpening. But this man, at least, cared for his weapon on a regular basis.

  He let the force of the man’s block aid in carrying his blade behind his left shoulder to keep the guard’s weapon from slicing into his back. The swords met with a loud clashing of steel, and Vaun reveled in the sound and the feel of combat, the Song already singing of triumph and the Rhythm pounding a steady cadence. He spun, letting his sword strike at what it knew to be his foe’s neck. The Song of Battle filled his every pore now, and the Rhythm seeped into his blood.

  Surprised the youth had ma
naged to block his attack and retaliate, the soldier nevertheless deflected Vaun’s return slash. His face still held that peculiar smile as their swords crashed together.

  The Swordsman felt the wind caress his blade as he sliced low at the man’s right leg. The guardsman countered with another vertical block, this one almost a second too late. “Fire and ice, this Ramener is fast.” “Did you see that? He wasn’t even looking when he blocked.”

  Vaun barely heard the comments as he swung again at the man’s right side, this time toward his upper body. He knew the guard would block his strike, and he didn’t mind. The Song had already shown him the path to victory, and the Rhythm guided him on.

  The soldier deflected Vaun’s cut with a hard flick of his wrist, giving the block a little extra push in an effort to take Vaun’s sword out of play. He followed his block by slashing swiftly at Vaun’s head, thinking he’d won.

  Vaun, listening to the Song and feeling the Rhythm, ducked low and sidestepped, his point rising and coming to rest on the soldier’s ribcage. He could feel the fabric of the man’s tunic under his sword tip, as well as the two ribs quivering at the contact of the steel. Faintly, he could feel the pounding of the man’s heart and sense his disappointment, admiration, and slight uneasiness at being beaten by the youth so handily. Vaun also felt a strange itch receding from his left side but didn’t take time to scratch it away.

  Scattered applause and a few whistles acknowledged that Vaun had won, coupled with murmurs admiring the skill and speed displayed. The entire exchange had taken slightly less than half a minute. All were impressed.

  The blond soldier appeared a little chagrined at being defeated, though he still had that smirk.

  Vaun smiled back. “You’re very good. You have a lot of speed and power that will improve with more training and use.” Vaun grinned inwardly as he thought of a similar lesson Drath had taught him, his left knee tingling at the memory. “One thing you should remember, though, is that your sword need not always be used to avoid your opponent’s weapon. Your body can do that, too. By the way, I am Vaun Tarsus.”

  “Reska.” The man clasped Vaun’s forearm. “And thank you. I thought I had you there for a second.”

  “I did, too.” Vaun slapped him on the back, thinking how often David had said those exact words. “Why do you smile like that when you fight?”

  Reska shrugged, apparently familiar with the question. “I don’t know. I just do. Always have. And, anyway, it’s a good distraction.”

  “That it is. It almost made me lose my place in the Song.”

  Reska frowned at that, not knowing in the slightest what Vaun meant. He grinned and shrugged, however, thinking that Rameners always did have peculiar ideas about sword fighting.

  Turning to the assembled soldiers, the Swordsman opened his arms and grinned broadly. “Who’s next?”

  * * *

  Merdel and Thorne heard the clashings of a fierce battle as they reentered the palace late that afternoon and hurried toward the sound. Coming out onto the practice grounds, they saw Vaun Tarsus surrounded by several of the royal palace guard. He fought them off with ease, though he made it appear he didn’t, and Merdel laughed heartily at the sight.

  “It seems our young companion became anxious for a test.”

  Thorne nodded. “Aye. But he might give himself away if he keeps this up. It also makes him look a little conceited.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much, Thorne. He’s supposed to be from Ramen, remember. And vanity isn’t in Vaun’s blood. And since when are you concerned about keeping things hidden, you who hate subterfuge so much?”

  “Everyone needs to be a little cautious, even a dwarf. And if people learn he’s a Swordsman, ’twon’t be long afore Elak hears of it. Then we’ll have all sorts of extra trouble. We no want too many people hearin’ ’bout a relatively untrained youngster who can defeat all the palace guard single-handed, from Ramen or no. You know how people get when rumors of a new Swordsman begin spreadin’. Vaun could find himself facin’ the headsman’s axe.” The dwarf eyed his wizard friend. “Or twenty challenges come the dawn.”

  “Aye. I’d hate to see that, or him being stoned to death for no reason other than being what he is.” The wizard scratched his chin. Sometimes the followers of the Great God shamed him. “I’ll mention it to Vaun.” He stood silently watching the youth for several minutes. “He is good, though, isn’t he?”

  Thorne nodded again. “Very.”

  They turned back to the fight in time to see Vaun gracefully finish off the last of the guardsmen. Those he’d already defeated had either risen from their mock deaths or were in the process of it, and all looked at Vaun with new respect. Several rubbed at their faces where the flat of the Swordsman’s blade had struck them. They were all glad this was merely spar, for even a light tap with the side of the woven blade was hard enough to leave a mark that would most likely develop into a bruise by the next day. He’d beaten a total of nine men, two of whom were not recruits.

  Vaun thanked the guardsmen and officers for allowing him to spar with them and told the new recruits that they should all be proud of their abilities. They thanked him in return and invited him to join them any day he wished. Vaun readily agreed and pivoted to find Thorne and Merdel not too far away. Sheathing his sword, he strode away.

  “Very impressive, young man,” Merdel claimed as Vaun approached. “I understand your desire to fight, but don’t overdo it. Ramen swordsmen are good, but they do have their limitations.”

  Vaun bowed his head, his breathing a little heavy. “I did show off a little, didn’t I?” His feet scuffed the dir,t and he seemed a little ashamed of himself. “I just couldn’t help it. I really wanted to fight, and I wanted to see how good I am now.”

  “There’s no harm in it, but remember that you have special gifts that allow you to defeat almost anyone. But don’t worry—you fought mostly recruits, so your victory won’t carry quite so much weight. But be more careful next time, Swordsman.”

  “Okay.” Vaun’s head came back up. “Do you really think I can beat anyone?”

  “Most certainly.” Merdel had deliberately used Vaun’s new title, as they all had. The wizard knew that doing so would help eliminate the doubts that still plagued their companion. “Except, of course, someone well skilled in the use of a staff.”

  The Swordsman smiled. “Someone like you, maybe?” Merdel had refused to spar with the youth, saying he didn’t want to humiliate him and make him doubt his abilities. Merdel grinned but didn’t answer the question, so Vaun decided to let the matter drop for now. “So, where’d you two run off to?”

  “We took a small stroll through the city.” The wizard led the way as they walked back into the palace. “I needed a break from my reading.” The wizard had been in one of the castle’s many libraries ever since they had arrived, searching for anything that might help them fight Elak.

  Vaun laughed. “Small? You’ve been gone for over four hours.”

  “Have we?” Merdel looked shocked. “Thorne, you were supposed to keep track of the time.”

  “Sorry, Merdel, I’d forgotten.” The dwarf didn’t sound all that regretful.

  “No matter.” The mage turned to Vaun. “Did we miss anything else?”

  “No, nothing really. Drath is still sleeping, and King Dobry is having all sorts of meetings today. No one has heard from or seen Rush or Dart all day. I think they may have left town.”

  Thorne grunted. “We can only hope so much.”

  The three companions walked idly through the palace, their boots echoing hollowly on the marble floors, not entirely sure where they wanted to go. Their stay in King Dobry’s home while they waited for Merdel to finish his research and Drath to recover had left them all with a strong loss of their sense of purpose. They had been so determined to reach the castle that, once there, they discovered they weren’t sure what needed to be done next. They knew Elak had to be stopped, but at the moment they felt disinclined to move.

>   The marble walls of the castle ranged from an almost pure white to a very deep blue. Thin streaks of red, blue, and black ran through the white and pink marble used for the floors and walls, while white and yellow bands accentuated the darker colors used for columns and archways. The combinations of light and dark marble set each other off nicely, and only added to the overall beauty of the castle. Gold and silver candelabra and lamps provided light along with windows of many shapes and sizes, and large bouquets of colorful flowers scented the air with a fragrance that pleased the senses.

  Tapestries and paintings depicting the history of the castle and the family of King Dobry decorated the walls. Vaun saw many hunting scenes side by side with pageants, religious rites, and other royal festivities, or “outlandish frolicking” as the king called some of them. There were several large paintings of the Dobry falcon, the raptor overlooking its domain from a variety of perches with sharp eyes and wings just beginning to spread. The few battle scenes were tastefully done and made war seem necessary for the wealth and continuance of the kingdom. The vaulted ceiling rose fifteen feet above their heads, itself decorated with a wide array of frescoes, and archways led off in many directions.

  The castle itself was quite large, and its finery spoke of the prosperity the kingdom had enjoyed since the end of the Third Great Alliance. The city of Bordell showed few of the signs of war that still tainted many of the smaller towns and villages. Even the places that looked the worst made the war seem a few centuries old, instead of the actual few decades, according to Thorne.

  Finely carved furniture from all parts of the rejuvenated Southern Kingdoms sat on patterned rugs that further highlighted the marble of the walls and floors. A few rooms had polished hardwood floors that enhanced the soft beauty of the lighter marble with their rich darkness. Every now and then they passed a servant or guard hurrying on some duty, and all glanced more than once at the Vaulka on Vaun’s back.