The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  “Three. An older man who services the gentry with fine work for which he charges highly, the main blacksmith who does most of the wagon and horse work and a sort of smith in the poorer quarter.”

  “Who has the biggest forge?” Chalc asked.

  “The blacksmith who does the commercial work.” Cristal answered.

  Chalc thought before answering.

  “How many people in the City and how many possible fighting men under thirty?”

  “About twenty thousand or so for total population, say half women. That leaves ten thousand men of which four thousand are now in the army, the rest of its forces are drawn from the countryside. There are about a thousand male children, so that leaves about five thousand of which I guess fifteen hundred or so will be under thirty.”

  Chalc sighed. “We could make possibly twenty swords a day if I can find some metalworkers to help and you tell us we have a maximum of eight weeks. If we started now, we could only produce around a thousand swords or so in the allotted time if I could train people to assist me. The quality of the swords would be poor but better than not having one. To make so many swords requires a lot of steel. Is there a stockpile of ore or steel in the city?”

  Cristal looked blank. “I’ve never given it much thought. I know our steel comes from up in the mountains of Cumbrisia but how much we have on hand is unknown to me.”

  She snatched up a stick of charcoal and made a note on a piece of parchment.

  “These are things which must be raised at the next Council meeting in six days. Another problem. Apparently the Guard is in need of weapons training but Duke Dalvan is arrogant and will not consider the possibility. The thieves think the Guards are a joke.”

  She coloured slightly and looked guiltily around the little group who were smiling at her. It was Lareeta who spoke for them all.

  “We don’t care where your information comes from Cristal. It’s always better to plan from a position of knowledge. Whatever the source.”

  Kuiran had been thinking hard about the problem of assessing the fighting ability of the City Guards.

  “Is this Duke arrogant enough to think his Guards can actually fight?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then offer him a wager of considerable size. One man with a wooden sword and one with a staff against the whole of his guard. Not more than ten at a time. You up for it Chalc?”

  Cristal clapped her hands, a big smile creasing her face while Chalc grinned and patted Kuiran on the back.

  “A goodly plan lad.”

  “We won’t wait for the next Council meeting.” Cristal announced. “I will issue the challenge immediately. We will see if Duke Dalvan is as sure of the City Guard as he says.”

  The answer came back the same afternoon. The challenge was accepted and Cristal and friends were invited to the Guard Barracks at ten the following morning. She dashed off an acceptance note and sent it by return runner.

  The following morning, Cristal’s carriage rolled into the City Guard’s Barracks at five minutes to ten. All one hundred of the City Guard were standing on parade as they entered, their red uniforms smartly pressed with rows of polished buttons glinting in the sun. It was a warm morning and some of them already had beads of sweat forming on their faces as they stood motionless at attention.

  Kuiran turned to Chalc. “Looks like the Duke is helping us already.”

  Chalc nodded. “Fine looking outfit. I wonder if they spend as much time training with arms as they do polishing buttons?”

  “We’ll find out shortly my friend.”

  The Duke was expansive. As far as he was concerned the considerable amount Cristal had wagered was already in his pocket. Two men against one hundred. Hah!

  His demeanour altered a little when he saw Kuiran climb out of the carriage, loosely holding his huge metal-tipped staff but still, ten at a time? Armed with swords?

  The Duke’s mood improved when he saw the older foreigner, dressed in loose clothing, climb down from the coach clutching an odd shaped wooden sword. What was Cristal up to bringing an old man along?

  “Good morning Mistress. Are these your two men? I’ll feel a little guilty taking your money but still, you offered the wager. Shall we begin?”

  “Yes Duke Dalvan, I did offer the wager and I’m ready when you are. How would you like to proceed?”

  The Duke was not silly. If he got rid of the old man with his first ten Guards then he would have ninety left to fight the big one. No one was strong enough to fight ninety men non stop.

  “I think I would like to test your sword wielder against the first ten of my men. We’ll go easy on him. Strike with the flat of the blade only. Would he like training padding do you think?”

  Cristal raised her eyebrow at Chalc.

  “No Mistress Cristal, I find thick padding slows me down. Ready when they are.”

  The Duke called out his first ten men who advanced as a unit and drew their swords ready for the command to begin. Chalc smiled inwardly at the loosely assembled group in front of him.

  Their spacing was terrible.

  At the Duke’s signal, the ten Guardsmen rushed Chalc, who merely stood poised, waiting. There was a slight hesitation in the Guard. Only an idiot would stand still in front of ten men charging with drawn swords.

  The lead two arrived; swords swinging in big lazy arcs, Chalc ducked them both, rapping one hard on the knee with the back of the wooden blade then cutting upward into the groin of the second. As he rose he turned sideways and stepped into the ranks of the remaining eight who did not have enough room to swing their swords properly. Twirling his wooden sword one handed, Chalc cracked it down on a collar bone, then fired it sideways to clout a neck as he pirouetted neatly to avoid an overhand blow while reversing his sword to jab the man behind sharply in the stomach before bringing the blade around sideways to take the one beside him in the ribs. Six men were either lying on the ground clutching parts of their anatomy or limping back to a fighting position. The remaining four fit ones stepped back to reassess the situation but Chalc gave them no time. He advanced as though dancing, with his sword poised in front of him. It flickered in a blur and two more of the Guard fell while a third found himself with no sword. Chalc picked it up and handed it back before striking the next man with a rising blow under the arm and finished the last off by whacking his wooden sword down on the arm of the man who had just received his weapon back.

  Chalc then retreated warily backward, placing his feet carefully while keeping an eye on the floored Guardsmen until he stood beside Cristal again. He was hardly out of breath, the whole fight lasting barely three minutes. The ten Guardsmen would have been killed or severely maimed if his blade had been his own.

  Cristal placed her hand on Chalc’s shoulder and leaned toward him.

  “Impressive Chalc. I’ve never seen you fight before. I like the style of swordplay you use. You were well chosen as Servant for my Grandson. Well done.”

  She patted his shoulder before turning to the Duke who was now looking a little worried.

  “Would you like Master Chalc to continue or would you prefer to see how Kuiran does with his staff?”

  “Your swordsman is fast but big men are usually not so quick. We’ll try out the big man next.”

  Kuiran had brought his new chain gauntlets with him. He’d forgotten them on the trip to Gildon’s Keep, only finding them when he returned to Belvedere. The possibility of sustaining wounds to his hands while fighting swordsmen was well illustrated to him when he’d fought Empress Martine’s soldiers at Gildon’s Keep. He’d been lucky there in not being maimed. The wood of his staff was so hard it did not allow swords to bite into it and they tended to slide down the shaft toward his hands. Drawing the gloves on, Kuiran hefted his staff and twirled it as he advanced to his starting place while the Duke called another ten of his men to contest the staff bearer.

  The Guardsmen were wary now, having seen what one of Cristal’s men could do but it made no difference. Ku
iran treated it as a game and managed in a very short period of time to smack every one of his opponents sharply on their sword hands. Four minutes and the faces of the ten men all showed a painful demeanour as they held their slightly damaged hands under the opposite armpit. Kuiran had been gentle, bruising, rather than breaking the hands but still it was an effective display.

  The Duke was looking aghast and Cristal took pity on him as he gave thought on how to manage the situation.

  “Duke Dalvan, I am willing to put these two up against thirty of your men at one time. Is that reasonable?”

  To the Duke it was a lifeline Cristal tossed him and he readily agreed. What he didn’t realise was, trained fighters never get in each other’s way, it’s a built in response to incorporate their fighting partner into the dance of death.

  “Yes Cristal, more than reasonable and it would be quite a display.”

  It certainly was. The Guardsmen were hesitant, having already observed twenty of their companions suffer at the hands of these two and because of it, they left many openings which Chalc and Kuiran utilised.

  It was sheer poetry.

  Cristal was engrossed. She had never seen these two fight before and together they made an impressive team. She briefly thought of Arwhon and his Shield as she considered the impact they all could make as a fighting unit but had to let the thought go.

  It was too painful to think of Arwhon. Even now.

  The speed at which Chalc and Kuiran’s weapons moved made it look like the opposing Guards were fighting in slow motion. Kuiran would walk into a group of men and appear some distance away, almost immediately. How did he cover the ground so fast? Chalc’s style went from immobility to bursts of movement, dancing over the ground and in between the Guards while blows rained from all directions. None hit him.

  It was only a further ten minutes before Kuiran and Chalc once more stood beside Cristal. Neither had sustained a blow nor was either much out of breath.

  “Is it worth continuing do you think, Duke Dalvan?”

  The man was shaken. Over half of his Guard, all armed with steel swords, defeated by an old man with a wooden sword and a giant with a staff.

  “No Mistress. I will bring the agreed amount to your house later this afternoon if that is acceptable.”

  “Certainly Duke, come for Dinner and you can have a chat with these two friends of mine. We have something to discuss to our mutual benefit.”

  It was a very subdued Duke who accepted Cristal’s generous invitation.

  That evening, at the predetermined time, the Duke’s carriage approached the gates of Cristal nasi Tsalkini’s mansion. It was held up at the entry while it was checked. Before long the gates were opened and the carriage rolled to a halt at the entrance steps. The Duke stepped out shaking his head. When he was shown into the drawing room he placed a heavy purse on the table.

  “Was it really necessary to stop the coach?” he asked.

  Cristal looked up at his towering bulk.

  “Everything coming through my gate is checked, no matter who or what. I firmly believe war is coming and the Empress Martine may already have spies in Belvedere. If Callandor’s surmise is correct, we can expect hostilities in six to eight weeks.”

  Dalvan nodded. “If. When. It’s all just surmise at the moment.”

  Cristal waved her hand to include Chalc and Kuiran.

  “I believe you know these two gentlemen. What you may not know is about two months ago they were in the party responsible for rescuing the Barsoomi heirs. The Barsoomi lady sitting over there is Lareeta. She rode five days and most of the nights to bring us news of others of our party involved in the rescue.”

  Dalvan’s eyebrows rose and he took a closer look at the two men and the lean, middle aged Barsoom woman, respect apparent in his eyes.

  Cristal continued.

  “They have been responsible for the increased security around my mansion and for the training of my guardsmen. These two men, along with the rest of the small rescue party, have thwarted Martine’s plans for now but know she is no idle threat. Tell him Chalc.”

  “Duke, Martine has some of her troops camped under the trees along the border of Barsoom. Why, I do not know but they obey her every command. There is also an evil general we have met before, who goes by the name of Kroy. He is quite prepared to do almost anything to curry Martine’s favour. The self styled Empress will not quit until she has what she wants and that is Dominion over all the lands. Belvedere is in her sights.”

  The Duke had taken a glass of wine and seated himself comfortably.

  “That may well be but Belvedere has never fallen.”

  Cristal gave him a scornful look.

  “Didn’t we prove today how ineffectual your guard would be against soldiers trained for war? I have talked to others in the city. We have over one thousand able bodied men who are presently unarmed. Your guard needs training and weapons need to be manufactured and handed out to potential fighters in the populace.”

  Dalvan choked on his wine. “You can’t do that. Arming the rabble could lead to all sorts of crimes and possibly murder. Anyway, how can you make the required number of swords?”

  This was the opening Cristal had been waiting for.

  “If we don’t arm the rabble there could be wholesale slaughter if Martine does take the City. We need to be prepared. Besides being a Swordmaster, Master Chalc here is also a Swordsmith and can show our blacksmiths, or any ironworker for that matter, how to construct low quality swords rapidly. It’s something to do with moulds and lesser skilled people assembling them. The other thing we can do is to train your City Guard in the basics of sword fighting, at least enough for them to practice on their own. Chalc can start the training and then Lareeta and Kuiran will involve themselves also. They can only add some finesse.”

  Duke Dalvan had been taught a lesson that morning and although he was cold and imperious, he was not stupid. Cristal had done her research, not sat around like some rich old dowager, and had come up with a plan. It was a good plan and at the worst, the City would be prepared for an attack which never arrived and a lot of villains would be armed but if an attack did come; it would be met with stern resistance. He got up and refilled his wine glass. Sipping the robust wine with appreciation, he sighed.

  “You’re right. I may come across as a pig-headed, demanding fellow but I see the sense in what you are saying. Can Chalc, Kuiran and Lareeta start training the Guard until your Swordsmith sets up the production line for sword manufacture?’

  “Yes Duke, we already have a schedule drawn up. Shall we go into Dinner?”

  The Duke rose, shaking his head.

  “You always were a smart one Cristal. After you,” and he held the door for her as she passed regally through.

  What the Duke didn’t know was a lot of the steel required to make the swords would have to be gleaned from whatever sources possible, including fancy railings and suchlike presently decorating the City. Belvedere did not hold a large enough reserve of steel to make even a quarter of the swords they required. Cristal had already sent out an order for two wagon loads of steel to be shipped from the mine refineries off the Great South Road in Cumbrisia. Whether or not they had two wagon loads ready for sale up there was another matter.

  Chalc and Kuiran exchanged broad smiles as they followed Cristal and Lareeta into the dining room.

  It seemed that what Cristal wanted, Cristal got.

  15. Dissent.

  Redbeard had pushed his band, including the staunch but now very sore Trader Brandel, quite hard on their trip to the west coast to pick up Cristal’s grandchildren. Not too hard, because he wanted the horses to last. They were needed to make the return trip to Belvedere with the Tsalk siblings. He was quite happy about getting paid plenty for this hire as it was easier riding around the countryside for money than it was fighting for it. There wasn’t much call for mercenary bands like his in times of peace and most small bands made their living as caravan guards or doing police work
, hired to track down gangs of thieves intermittently raiding local villages.

  There had been carefully whispered rumours of employment with the Dominion circulating in some of the rougher taverns in Belvedere. Quite decent hire prices were being bandied about and some of the scruffier, less scrupulous gangs seemed to have dropped out of sight.

  No doubt they were heading east into Graswyn to sign on with the Dominion, while his own band of mercenaries rode west.

  Redbeard, originally a Cumbrisian, well remembered the last Dominion War however, and still had issues with the Dominion. As a common soldier in the employ of Southland, he fought campaigns in Southland, Barsoom and Cumbrisia, eventually rising to the position of Scout Sergeant before the conflict ended. He was proud to have fought against Empress Martine’s armies.

  Although her soldiers had no honour.

  They were driven by greed, a lust for killing and the will to win but underlying all of those, it was fear which drove them. That icy cold, clammy feeling of swift retribution lurking just around the corner, waiting for any failure. There was no such thing as surrendering to the Dominion, they never left opposition behind them and saw no point in feeding mouths they had no use for. Only the higher ranking military officers and Dukes were ever spared, and only for the ransom. For the common soldier, surrendering to the Dominion meant death.

  The trip to Trugor, on the coast of Myseline, took the Band five weeks of long days ahorse. After more than a week in the saddle along the Great South Road, Crossroads had proved a diverting place for a short break but Redbeard kept his men out of trouble and only stayed the one night. His band looked fearsome enough, most wearing mail under their jerkins and with so many weapons visible that, in some villages they rode through, children were dragged off the street by their mothers and doors were locked against them.

  The lengthy ride up the Grand Valley to Cumbrisia’s End took Redbeard’s band just under two weeks after their departure from Crossroads. The long steady climb took its toll on both the horses and men of his band while Trader Brandel was groaning with every mile they travelled up the long, steady uphill gradient.