‘Drone one, all arms, two against one, random patterns. Drone two, all arms, two against one, random patterns,’ said Soren. With the commands given the previously lifeless arms lifted their weapons and prepared to attack.
The four arms were spaced equally around the body of the drones, which allowed them to attack no matter which way they were oriented. There was no benefit to be gained by attacking them from behind, nor any respite to be found by hiding there.
By some trick of the magic used to create them, when a drone was informed that it was working in connection with another, they would be able to coordinate their movements, rather than just bumping around independently. They came at him, one first with the other moving forward in a supporting role. Blades clashed and Soren twisted and turned between them, dancing to the sound of metal clashing against metal.
He knew the drones were fast; he had seen as much when watching others train with them from the sidelines. They just did not seem as fast when he used them. After several minutes he began to feel a little light headed. He ignored the feeling and kept pushing himself, but the light headedness became a piercing headache, and then he began to feel nauseous. He persisted a little longer, refusing to give in to discomfort but he found it difficult to concentrate and maintain his focus. His mental clarity became so confused that it seemed the drones were even slower now than they had been before. He must have pushed too hard and needed to stop. He ordered the drones to a halt and then back to their storage area. He quickly disarmed them and made his way back to River House, concerned now for the first time about the challenge he had set upon making in the morning. He hoped the sudden ailment would subside with a good night’s sleep. The last thing he wanted was for an illness to seem like fear to the others in the dining hall.
He had been awake for some time when the morning bell rang to wake all of students. Happily his nausea and headache from the night before had subsided. He got up, dressed and washed quickly. When he got down to the common room, Jost was already there, waiting for him. He bore such a solemn expression that Soren almost laughed.
‘Come on then,’ said Soren cheerfully. ‘I’m starving!’ Now that he was set on a course of action that was in motion, he found that his spirits, which had been flagging over previous days, lifted considerably.
It was obvious to Soren as soon as they entered the dining hall that Henn and Jost had both remained silent about Soren’s intentions, as the atmosphere in there was perfectly normal. There was no air of tense expectation, which Soren had feared there might be. There was no sign of dal Dardi when they arrived, so Soren and Jost went about things normally, collecting their breakfast and sitting down to start it as they ordinarily would.
Soren sat facing the doorway, his heart speeding up a little each time the door opened as he waited for dal Dardi to arrive. Several students entered, pushing Soren’s anxiety levels up a little each time. Henn arrived also, but he sat with a different group, giving Soren and Jost an encouraging nod as he passed by. Eventually dal Dardi stepped into the hall.
‘I’m just going to get right to it,’ said Soren. ‘No point in dragging this out any longer than is needed.’
As dal Dardi made his way down the central aisle between the tables toward the food counter, Soren stood and stepped out in front of him. Jost had taken his place reassuringly behind Soren’s left shoulder, which he was grateful for. As soon as dal Dardi noticed Soren, his usual smug, arrogant expression deserted him. Soren stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. The crack of the open handed strike rang out over the sounds of morning chatter in the hall, and silenced the room almost instantly.
‘My honour demands satisfaction,’ said Soren, before walking back to his breakfast. It was customary to address one’s opponent as ‘sir’ when making the challenge, but Soren refused to be completely dictated to by the requirements of the honour code, and in any event did not wish to afford dal Dardi the respect addressing him as ‘sir’ conveyed. Jost stepped into the place in front of dal Dardi that Soren had just vacated.
‘Have your second call on me at River House to arrange the particulars,’ he said, before also returning to his breakfast.
News of the challenge spread around the Academy like wildfire. Soren was instantly uncomfortable with his new found celebrity, as he immediately became the subject of conversation wherever he went on campus.
For the time being, his participation in the duelling process was not required. Jost and whoever stood as second for dal Dardi would make all the arrangements and inform the principals of when and where the duel would occur. Soren had no intention of allowing it to dominate his thoughts and so instead threw himself into his studies, particularly on working at his reading and writing, which was improving quickly, to his great satisfaction.
He distanced himself from everything to do with the duel all of that day, until the evening, when he met with Jost in the common room of River House. Jost explained to him that the duel would be fought the following morning outside of the city walls at ten bells, in a field near the Blackwater Road that was often used for such purposes. Soren was a little surprised at the detail that went into the organisation. Soren and Jost would leave the Academy shortly after eight bells and leave the city by the Blackwater Gate. Dal Dardi and his second would leave a little earlier and exit the city via the North Gate, so as to ensure the opposing parties would not encounter one another before the duel.
Jost had also organised a physician to attend on them at the duel. It was the mention of the physician that really brought home to Soren the seriousness of the whole matter. He had been so preoccupied with the danger of killing or injuring dal Dardi and the consequences that would have had for him that he had not considered the possibility of being injured or killed himself.
Being killed didn’t bother him all that much. He had already lived longer than he had ever expected that he would, but living with a serious injury did concern him. It would mean the end of his chance at the Academy. Amero would most certainly not want a half trained, crippled retainer, which meant a return to the streets, but as a cripple. He had seen crippled former soldiers begging around the city. They never lasted long. Death would be a better result for him. What made matters worse was the realisation that unless he was careful, in terms of consequences, there would be little difference between defeat or victory.
C h a p t e r 1 3
THE DUEL
The field chosen for the duel was a short distance from the road and was screened from passing traffic by a row of squat trees. Soren and Jost arrived first despite leaving later; dal Dardi had a slightly longer distance to travel. The physician was already there. He had arrived in a small cart and had a medicine chest open at the back, displaying bottles, bandages and a number of metal surgical instruments. The experience felt surreal. Surely giving dal Dardi a few punches at an opportune moment would have been a far better way to deal with this.
Rapier and dagger were the weapons that had been chosen by dal Dardi. Jost had obtained a reasonable pair from his family’s house in the city, and it occurred to Soren that it was the first time that he had ever held a real, sharpened sword. He disliked waiting but used the time to familiarise himself with the balance of the sword. He had not spent very much time training with a dagger in addition to the rapier, but he thought he might as well have it as not and did not see how it could get in the way.
The sword felt good and Soren appreciated Jost having lent it to him. The alternative would have been to break into a weapons locker in the Academy to get at one of the sharp rapiers contained within. While perfectly functional, they would have lacked the craftsmanship and attention to detail that Jost’s family would demand from a weapon. He went through a few practice positions to loosen up and develop a feeling for the sword and dagger. While he was doing so, Reitz dal Dardi, his second and a third man arrived on horseback. Dal Dardi’s second was Ranph dal Bragadin. Soren did not recognise the third man, who dismounted first and took the reins from
the other two as they also dismounted.
They stood together and talked as dal Dardi unbuckled his cloak and handed it to the third man who Soren took to be a servant. Dal Dardi was wearing a fitted leather duellist’s doublet, similar to the ones that were worn in the arena. It would provide some protection to the torso, but only against a glancing blow. Nonetheless it would reduce the chance of blood being drawn by a deflected attack. Soren wore only his white cotton shirt; he had nothing else. Jost had made it abundantly clear that he could not wear his blue academy doublet for fear of bringing the Academy into disrepute. The extra protection was certainly an advantage in dal Dardi’s favour, but Soren did not intend for the matter to be decided by a lucky strike.
Soren and Jost stood together by the rear of the physician’s cart when Ranph approached them. He carried with him a sword and dagger.
‘I’d like to inspect your sword and dagger, if I may,’ said Ranph.
Soren handed him both, and Ranph handed the pair of blades he was carrying to Jost.
‘I wanted to let you know that I am here as Reitz’s second purely because no one else would stand with him.’ He gave both weapons a looking over and exchanged them for dal Dardi’s, to which Jost had been doing likewise. ‘Good luck. I’ll signal when we’re ready,’ he said, before returning to dal Dardi.
‘Well,’ said Jost, ‘from here it’s just like duelling class. Except the pointy bit will hurt more if he hits you.’ He let out a forced laugh, and handed Soren the blades.
While Soren appreciated his attempted levity, it was unnecessary. He had felt the tension leading up to this moment; all of the expectation and having his choices dictated to him by a code that he thought ridiculous. Now however, he was in more comfortable territory. He could directly influence the events that would follow, one way or the other.
Ranph nodded to Jost, who acknowledged the signal.
‘Time to go,’ said Jost. ‘Remember, just like duelling class. Good luck.’
Soren walked forward to meet dal Dardi, but the two exchanged no words. Jost and Ranph stood to the side with the physician behind them. Part of Soren hoped that the physician’s services would not be needed, but he was confident that they would.
‘As agreed, the duel is to first blood,’ said Ranph. ‘Both combatants are duty bound by honour to cease fencing as soon as they become aware of a wound to either party drawing blood. I will call out the presence of a wound drawing blood as soon as I become aware of it, and if combat has not ceased already by that point, it is to cease instantly on my word. Are the rules understood?’
Soren said that he understood, dal Dardi did likewise.
‘Very good,’ said Ranph. ‘Begin.’
Dal Dardi came at Soren right away. His attack indicated the complete contempt with which he considered Soren. He was a little better than Soren remembered, but perhaps he had unintentionally been playing down dal Dardi’s ability in his own mind in order to boost his confidence. He settled into a nice flow of defensive strokes, alternating between rapier and dagger smoothly and Soren was content to continue defending until he had a better measure of him.
He had always been taken by flights of imaginative fancy and he found himself wondering what the scene must have looked like, the clashing of blades in a tree lined field before the morning haze had fully lifted. His wandering imagination nearly cost him as dal Dardi’s dagger passed perilously close to his midsection.
He focussed and took the initiative. He directed most of his attacks through his rapier, as he was not confident enough with the dagger to use it for anything other than defence. He forced dal Dardi back several paces before dal Dardi countered back hard, cutting low at Soren with his dagger and forcing him to jump back out of the way. It put him off balance, which was not something that had been done to him often. He recovered his balance quickly but his legs and arms felt heavy and slow.
Dal Dardi came at him again, and for the first time Soren began to feel unsettled. He did not seem to have his usual speed and the loss of that edge rapidly exposed his less polished technique. Soren allowed himself to be driven back as he attempted to rally.
He focussed hard and gradually it felt as though his body was coming back to life. His reactions seemed a little quicker and his body responded to his commands at the speed he expected of it. Dal Dardi had grown more confident as a result of his promising start and continued to come at Soren, seeking out a gap in his defence. It took Soren several counters before he regained the initiative, but he was beginning to feel back to normal. As the ease with which he usually moved returned, it seemed as though it had just required a little more concentration than was ordinarily needed. He did not want for the duel to go on any longer than necessary and risk another slump into weakness and possibly even the headache and nausea he had suffered two nights before, which still played on his mind.
Soren pushed in with a fast thrust that he followed up with his dagger. He had expected the dagger to strike dal Dardi on his right shoulder and put an end to the duel, but somehow he parried the secondary strike and countered. Soren’s surprise at the failure of the attack must have shown on his face as dal Dardi sneered and pressed forward with his own attack.
The sneer infuriated Soren and with a sudden burst of effort he deflected dal Dardi’s rapier with his dagger and thrust forward with his own sword, directly at dal Dardi’s sneering face. The sneer quickly changed to apprehension, and Soren’s heart leapt, as he feared that he was on the verge of delivering a killing blow. All the luck that had come his way, and all the hard work he had done to capitalise on it would count for naught.
He released a sigh of relief as dal Dardi managed to move his head out of the way enough to avoid the tip, but not the edge. He shrieked in pain and recoiled as Soren’s blade cut a deep slit across his left cheek and on past his hairline.
Soren heard both Ranph and Jost call out to signal the duel was over. Dal Dardi dropped his dagger and held his hand up to his face as he staggered backward, blinded by tears. The physician rushed forward to inspect the wound and Soren lowered his weapons, utterly drained by the whole experience. He had won.
C h a p t e r 1 4
ACCEPTANCE
There was something ignominious about walking back to the Academy after the duel, even if it was in victory. However he could not afford the price of renting two horses or a carriage and he had already prevailed upon Jost’s generosity twice in imposing on him to be his second and then again to borrow his sword and dagger. What made it worse was that Soren was completely exhausted. As soon as the duel had ended, weariness hit him like a hammer and each step closer to home felt like a thousand.
Dal Dardi had still been at the duelling field when they had left having the cut to his face treated. Ranph had confirmed that the duel had been fairly fought and Soren had confirmed that honour was satisfied, even if he had never given any thought to there being a slight on it. Dal Dardi had not made any eye contact with him, but Ranph had assured him that he would ensure the matter ended there and that life would be made very difficult for dal Dardi if he did anything to renew the hostility.
When they finally returned to River House, Soren was surprised to see that the entire house were waiting in the common room. Jost gave the assembly a nod of his head and a smile and they burst into a round of applause. The regard they were showing him came as a shock. While membership of River House had eased the isolation and sense of not belonging that he had felt when he had arrived at the Academy, he had been accepted by virtue of his sponsorship by the Count of Moreno rather than in his own right. Now they applauded him for his own deeds. It was one of the best feelings that he had ever experienced.
It seemed that dal Dardi had a reputation as a notorious bully. Many of the students in the lower years, and in particular the under cadets, had suffered his constant torment. Soren facing him down and beating him in a duel was something many of the other students had wanted to do themselves and went some way to explaining why dal Dardi had
so much difficulty in finding someone to stand second for him. His victory in the duel had won Soren not only his honour, but also a great deal of regard amongst the other students, who would now cheerily greet him whenever they passed. He had gone from barely tolerated to popular in the space of one duel. Despite enjoying the acceptance he was experiencing, it was difficult to reconcile just how fickle his fellow students were. From being a pariah one day to fêted the next, he wondered if movement in the other direction could be as swift.
The duel, despite his success, had alarmed Soren in a number of ways. His first concern was that the speed which he had come to take for granted had seemed for a while at the start of the duel at least, to have deserted him. He couldn’t understand why but perhaps feeling unwell a couple of nights previously had something to do with it. Nonetheless, that had exposed his second concern. Stripped of his speed advantage, he was at best a below average swordsman. Dal Dardi, for whom Soren had no great regard, had shown himself to be more technically proficient. This was a matter that Soren needed to address quickly. He could not allow himself to remain completely dependent on something that he could not be certain of when he needed it most.
There was only one way he could see to achieve this. Hard work. He wasted no time, beginning with a trip to the library. His reading was coming along well, but was still far from the point where he could make sense of everything he came across. It was not of great importance for his current task however, as most of what he needed came in the form of diagrams and basic explanations of attacks and guards. He took a notebook with him and tried to make rough drawings of each of the forms and positions to help him fasten them in his memory, but also to have something to refer to when he was in the training hall, as it was forbidden to remove books from the library unless you were a member of the Collegium.
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