“Alright, we’ll go to a private gymnasium in the city and do some work there, to see if you’re ready for what you’re going to face,” she said.
“A what?” Grange asked, stumped by the word.
“A gymnasium,” Jenniline snorted. “You don’t know it? A place people go to practice – mostly tumbling arts, but there’s room for us to practice swords,” she said. “They’ve got wooden swords, but no pads, so prepare to get bruised, because I’m going to take out my growing frustration on you!”
She led Grange out of the palace and into the city.
“I still think picking you to be my counselor was a good idea, but now it’s mostly because all the other ideas look bad,” Grange complained to her as she led him at a rapid pace through the city.
“We’re going in here, and I’m going to show you how bad a choice it was,” she said as she abruptly stopped in front of a quartet of doors in a non-descript building.
They entered the building, and Grange immediately noticed two things: the building has the same smell of stale sweat as any armory, but also a different odor, one that was strong, but a softer, inorganic smell, like powder on fine ladies of the nobility.
Inside the large central room, Grange stopped to look around. There were people practicing walking on beams, or doing flips, or spinning around on ropes that hung from the high ceiling. There were rings that people held on to and swung their bodies around, and mats that they tumbled on. But virtually every person he saw was a woman, or girl. In fact, every person was female – every person except him.
“Am I allowed in this place?” he asked hesitantly.
“No, but no one will say anything if you stay with me and keep your hands and your eyes to yourself,” Jenniline dismissed his concern. “No one will see us working out here; now come with me to the back.”
She led the way along the wall to a door in the back of the practice chamber, and they entered a narrow, dim, alley of a room, with padding on the floor.
“Here,” she pulled a wooden sword from a locker and hefted it to Grange, then pulled one out for herself. “Let’s see what kind of shape you’re in,” she told him, and she moved onto the matted floor in a fighting pose.
She reminded him of Brielle he thought momentarily, as he stepped onto the mat and assumed his position as well. Brielle had been no-nonsense, and all business. And she had been a good fighter, he remembered.
Jenniline launched an attack, a thrust at the left side of his chest, and he parried it easily. She immediately riposted and turned his defensive success into a new challenge with her blade held lower than her hand, so that Grange had to drop his defenses to block her again.
She stepped back, and he tried to go on the attack, lunging towards her, but she took an extra step further than he anticipated, and her blade landed soundly across the top of his skull as he stumbled downward.
“Ow!” he said loudly, then sprang back up and backed away. He felt angry, and determined to retaliate.
And after that, their contest grew brutally competitive, as Grange started to regain his timing and remember the tricks to watch for and the traps to avoid, and the advantages he could use.
“Stop!” Jenniline finally said through clenched teeth.
“Wait here just a minute,” she ordered, without saying any more, and she limped out of the practice room, red welts visible where her flesh was visible. Grange was little better, with welts and bruises of his own, and a small trickle of blood on his wrist.
A minute later Jenniline was back with another woman.
“This in Ingrill,” Jenniline introduced without ceremony. “Let’s see how well you fare against her, and then against the two of us.”
Ingrill smiled a warm smile as she selected a practice sword of her own, but she had fresh legs and arms, so that when her match with Grange began, she battled him to an even draw for several minutes before he began to deliver a few tentative strikes, unwilling to batter her as ferociously as Jenniline and he had battered one another.
That lasted until she managed to savagely strike his thigh, ripping his pant leg with her wooden weapon that struck him with painful effectiveness.
“So, are you going to keep going easy on me?” she asked with a grin, and the competition grew heated thereafter, until Jenniline jumped in alongside Ingrill, and the two of them pressed Grange backwards. He ceased trying to attack, and focused only on defending himself, bringing the match to a long stalemate, and an agreement to call it a draw.
“Phew, I think your boy should have no trouble against the puffy-sleeved dandies at the palace,” Ingrill told Jenniline, as she unconsciously stroked a welt on her forearm. “When my husband sees these marks, I’m not sure he’ll let me come back to the gymnasium again,” she moaned.
“Tell him you’ll give him the same kinds of marks if he tries to stop you,” Jenniline brushed aside the complaint.
“Thank you for your effort,” Grange said, from where he sat on the locker nearby, panting in exhaustion from the trying exercise.
“Get up,” Jenniline ordered him, “and put the practice swords away. We need to get you back to the palace and get you cleaned up for your appearance at the armory there,” she dictated to him.
“I almost think you enjoy bossing him around,” Ingrill observed with a grin.
“No, no,” Jenniline said in a mock tragic voice. “This is the price I must pay to serve my nation.” She was silent for a long second, then burst out in laughter, and she and Ingrill clapped hands together in a spontaneous celebration, as Grange grimaced.
“Let’s go, thief,” she told Grange, then she opened the door and led the way out into the larger room. The three of them passed through quickly, and exited from the gymnasium.
“Why does it smell like that inside?” Grange asked as he inhaled the fresh air deeply.
“Because girls sweat when they exercise, and because the gymnasts use powder on their hands,” Ingrill explained. “I’m going this way, and you’re probably going that way to the palace, so best of luck to you today,” she wished Grange. “I’m sure you’ll do well.”
Grange followed Jenniline, and listened as she started describing the opponents she expected him to have to fight during the afternoon.
“Two of the men who were with Hope – Kiergar and Remar – will definitely be there expecting to defeat you,” she began. “And both of my brothers will have to fight you: Halsten and Inge. Halsten will be fighting for blood. Inge will be fighting for honor.”
“Why would Halsten fight for blood?” Grange asked.
“Because if you hadn’t shown up with Acton’s command that you become the heir to the throne, Halsten would be the rightful heir,” the elder sister stated. “He’s not a bad boy, so the notion of him being displaced isn’t really necessary for the nation, in my opinion,” she said, “but the god commanded, so we listen.”
“That’s an understandable motivation,” Grange conceded. “And the other one?”
“Inge is a good boy. He’d make a good heir to the throne, or a good second in command, but he wouldn’t be a good king. He doesn’t have enough viciousness in him,” she theorized as she walked alongside him.
“And you think I have enough viciousness to be a good king?” Grange asked, indignantly.
“I never said I thought you’d be a good king,” Jenniline riposted, then laughed at the injured expression that crossed Grange’s face.
“If you’ve got magical powers, and the backing of a god, and you defeat these demons that are coming, then you’ll be a king without being vicious,” she consoled him, as they arrived at the gates to the palace.
“So, as I was saying, before you interrupted, Inge will try to fight you as well as the others, and I’d ask that you not beat him as badly as the others,” she said in a lower voice.
Grange glanced over at her, and saw by her expression that she was serious. He felt a spark of empathy, pleased to see her show a softer side.
“I’ll not
harm nor embarrass him,” he assured his counselor.
“Thank you, Grange. I appreciate it,” she told him.
“Now,” she said more briskly. “There’s your tower. I’m going to my rooms to clean up; you go do the same. Then I’ll tell the servants to move my things into some rooms on your lower floor.
“And we understand there’s nothing more to this move, right?” she spoke in an ominous voice.
“Believe me, I understand,” Grange hastily assured her.
“Right then – I’ll see you in a bit. Look sharp,” she told him, then left him as she turned off the path.
Grange climbed the steps of his tower, wondering at the fact that he never saw anyone else on the stairs, and cleaned himself as best he could in the dribbling shower of water that was available in his bathing facilities. He promised himself he’s take a page from Kilau, and place a water tank on the roof of the tower to provide better pressure, then he put on his clothes and was startled to find Jenniline waiting just outside the bathing chamber.
“If you’re finally ready, let’s be off to the armory for your next big test,” she said, and she led him out of the rooms.
Chapter 16
Grange won every challenge he received at the armory that afternoon, in a series of bouts that lasted until almost dinner time.
“I need to carry out other duties,” He panted after the eleventh match in the armory. He’d beaten the beaus of Hope and the brothers of Jenniline, and the champions of the guard and court.
He’d also endured the taunts of having “stolen” a victory – something that he heard after almost every match from a few voices among the many who had gathered to watch the contests.
“Are you afraid the next one will beat you?” someone called as Grange began to strip off his protective padding.
“No, I just have other things to do besides this,” Grange called back.
“We can play some more tomorrow,” he said aloud.
“Will you arrange that?” he asked Jenniline.
“I think you just did a pretty effective job of it,” she said. “The armory will be full again tomorrow afternoon.
“What is it you’re in such a hurry to do?” she asked.
“I need to go talk to my master, Brieed, to ask for instruction on constructing my wizard’s wand,” he answered. “We agreed we’d talk at sunset.”
“And what about your dinner?” Jenniline asked, as Grange started to edge anxiously towards the exit, while the crowd began to shuffle out of the armory stands.
“I’ll get something later,” he answered loudly, then turned and jogged away, on his return to his tower.
Minutes later he was at the top of the tower, as the sky overhead began to turn gray with a thin layer of clouds moving across the western sky.
“Master Brieed, this is Grange, here to tell you my story of the past several weeks,” he began, and he related the highlights of his extraordinary adventures, from the battle at the mine, when the demon lord had killed the elemental jewels using Grange’s own wand, to his journey across the hostile wilderness of the south and his stop at Yellow Spring. He told about Jenniline, and Hope, and the Bloomingians, and he told about captivity, and the extraordinary recognition by Acton.
“So I know I need the power of a wand to help me in the coming battle. Will you tell me how to make my wand complete and ready?” he finished, still feeling teary and emotional from the recounting of all his adventures and losses. As he did, the clouds grew thicker, and they began to obscure the face of the moon, causing him to worry that Brieed’s message might not get through to him. While he waited to hear the master wizard’s response, he decided to move his bed back down to the interior of the tower, to avoid being rained on, then, when finished with that task, he removed his own clothing, glad to be rid of the sweat-soaked clothes.
Raindrops began to fall, and he enjoyed the luxury of a powerful rinsing by the heavenly waters, until he suddenly heard Brieed’s voice speak.
It was both a good and a bad thing; it was good to know that the messages could penetrate the clouds, but it was bad to have to try to focus on Brieed’s instructions while being beat upon by the drenching downpour.
“Grange, such an extraordinary story! I don’t have words to describe all my thoughts, but you are a remarkable young man. Listen, the moon has almost set, so I won’t be able to talk for long,” Brieed forewarned. “I will talk to you again tomorrow, an hour past moonrise.
“Send me a message when the moon comes up, to confirm that you are ready,” Brieed told him. “And we will commence work on your wand and amulets. Go ahead and start exercising your wand with energy and discharges. And I want to talk to you about Grace and ….” The wizard’s words came to an abrupt end. Grange stood in the rain for several seconds, waiting for anything more, but there were no more words coming from Palmland.
He had heard from home. He thought of Palmland as home, he realized. Not Kilau, although Shaylee was there, and certainly not Fortune, though he had been raised there. He started to head down the stairs to get his wand, and as he did, he tried to understand how Palmland had come to feel like home.
He probably thought of it as home because of the changes that had happened there. He’d become a regular musician there, playing in Guy’s band almost every night. And he’d become a wizard – or at least an apprentice – in Palmland. And he’d developed his relationship with Ariana there, feeling as though he had a household and a family. He’d been formed there, he decided, as he picked up his wand, and returned to the rainy rooftop.
He focused on the wand as he stood in the rain. He didn’t have to stand in the rain, but he wanted to immediately discharge power upward into the cloudy sky, a declaration of his ability, and a celebration of his movement towards success. Brieed had instructed him to cycle the wand through the charging and discharging process, and so he intended to. And standing out in the rain did no harm. With the rain and gloom, no one could see him, and the freedom felt particularly appropriate at that moment.
He focused on the wand, and focused on the power, and he began to shepherd as much energy into the wand as he could, energy that would come out again as brilliant light. He called upon the energy, and placed it within the wand, for the first time in a long time. The simple act – which should have been a chore at best, or drudgery at worst – felt exhilarating, a reminder of his status as a wizard with the ability to call upon great powers.
He paused, then decided to release the power. He was eager to see the resulting fountain of energy, the streak of light that would be a pillar in the rainy darkness, extending the profile of the tower up higher than any building had ever been built.
“Now energy, I call upon you to shoot out from the wand and climb up towards the stars,” he uttered his command.
A stark white light glowed from the tip of his wand, and a tight white beam of illumination rose upward. He blinked against the falling rain, and against the intensity of the light as he tried to look into the sky to see where the beam rose to.
The light went on and on, second after second, lasting for almost as long as the time he had spent pressing the energy into place to begin with.
“Grange? What are you doing? Is there a problem?” Jenniline’s voice called.
He abruptly cut off the last of the light, instantly aware that he was uncovered.
“No problem,” he said. “I’m just practicing.”
“You’re standing in the rain. Naked. Making the whole city wonder what’s happening,” Jenniline shouted at him. “Come down here and put some clothes on. There are people in the tower asking what’s happening.”
Grange shook his head. “I’ll be there in a second. You go down first, and I’ll be along,” he answered.
He watched her disappear, then lowered his arms which had held the wand above his head. He cautiously trod down the stairs and out of the rain. A large puddle was forming on the floor of his room from the rain that was blowing in through the staircase
opening. As he pulled dry clothes on he looked at the puddle, then called upon the power to create a temporary shield over the opening.
His hair was still wet, and his clothes clung to his wet body. He was ready to go down and face the visitors.
Down the stairs he noticed that the furniture had changed, and he noticed a half dozen men standing, silently facing Jenniline as he reached the floor.
“My lord Champion,” Jenniline spoke with a formality that gave the title a greater sense of power, “these men were surprised by your display of great powers.
“They are interested in knowing what the consequences of your activities might be,” she told him.
“We don’t want any surprises to steal up on us, you know,” one of the men snidely said.
Jenniline looked at Grange as soon as the man used the word ‘steal’, knowing that it was a reference to the now widely-know story of Grange’s pickpocketing past.
Grange stood still, trying to compose himself, and Jenniline spoke up to fill the silence, knowing that she needed to avoid letting Grange focus on the insult.
“Please allow me to introduce your guests,” she said, “before we go any further.
“This is Lord Birger,” she indicated the man who had spoken the insult, “and these are Baron Holmger and Baron Hakan, along with their retainers,” she motioned to the others in the room.
“Should we offer them any hospitality?” Grange asked Jenniline. “I doubt we have any food or drink to offer, do we?”
“None yet my lord, but we’ll have your household organized to do so in another day or two,” Jenniline answered puzzled about the reason for his question.
“Then come up to the roof and let me show them what I’ve been doing,” he offered. “They should find it interesting. And here,” he uttered a soft phrase, creating a bright constellation of floating, glowing balls which burst into being with small explosions of energy, “let us use these instead of wasting candles and lanterns,” he offered, as the men in the room looked at the floating lights with concern and confusion.
The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) Page 16
