Sword Masters

by Selina Rosen

  The Amalite leader started to talk quickly, no doubt he wanted to know what Tarius had said, and the interpreter told him. The Amalite leader spat on the ground, then he glared at Persius. He spoke to him harshly.

  "He wants to know if that was the one called Tarius the Black?"

  Persius was curious. He knew men like Tarius gained reputations on both sides, but they knew him by name, which seemed odd.

  "He is. What's it to you, and how is it that you know his name?" Persius asked.

  The interpreter relayed the message to the leader, who spat something back quickly.

  "He says that he heard his name on the wind. That it is him who your men cheer."

  "He is a great and respected warrior," Persius said.

  The Amalite leader spoke again, this time in a calmer tone.

  "Our leader wishes to make a deal with you . . ."

  Persius stood to his full height and glared at the leader. "Why would I make a deal with you? You have invaded my kingdom, killed my people, burned my land, and now when we are winning, you think that I should make a deal with you. The only deal I will make with you is that if you take your murdering scum back over my borders and stay out of my kingdom, I will let you leave with your lives, but not with your weapons."

  The interpreter told the Amalite what Persius had said, and the Amalite frowned and made a long speech, all the while looking at Persius.

  The interpreter looked at Persius. He obviously did not approve of what the leader had said. "We have many troops still in your lands, within your borders. He wants you to give them safe passage from your lands."

  Persius thought about that. "No. I want you all gone, and I want you gone today. Any of your men within our borders who are alive shall be hunted down and killed to the last man. I know how you people work, and I won't allow it."

  The interpreter relayed the message and the Amalite looked angry. He spoke angry words that the interpreter did not interpret.

  "What did he say?" Persius demanded.

  The interpreter looked at the leader and apparently told him that Persius wanted to know what he said. The leader nodded, giving Persius a look of utter contempt.

  "He calls on the gods of light to smite you. He puts a curse on your house and your children, because you will not give our, 'missionaries' safe passage from your kingdom," the interpreter said.

  Persius was mad now. Mad enough to seriously consider Tarius's proposal. But he had an idea, one that made him smile.

  "All right, you want a deal? I'll give you a deal. You," he pointed at the leader. "Fight to the death with my champion. If you win, we will allow your 'soldiers' to leave unmolested. However, if you lose, you leave my country and we kill every single filthy Amalite we find in ours."

  The interpreter told the leader, and he was just mad enough to take Persius' offer.

  "We will prepare ourselves," the interpreter said, and he and the Amalite leader left.

  "A barbaric practice my king?" Hellibolt said at his shoulder.

  "Amalites aren't as good as Barbarians." He called his page over. "Go and get Tarius. Tell him to prepare himself for battle."

  "At once, Sire." The page hurried out.

  "You should take Tarius's counsel," Hellibolt said. "Kill the bastards to the last man. He hasn't steered you wrong yet."

  "We have to have peace, Hellibolt!" Persius said in disbelief. "Too many good men have died already."

  "But Tarius is right, Sire. If you do not kill them now, they will rebuild their army, grow stronger than ever, and come back after us," Hellibolt said.

  "And we'll be ready for them if they do. For now, I want an end to the killing. I want to go back to my castle, my wives, and my children. I want to run the country, repair it after this conflict," Persius said.

  "Then go home, by all means. Let your men push them back, hunt them down and destroy them," Hellibolt said.

  "Do you see the future?" Persius asked a bit concerned. "Do you warn me because you see a future in which our armies will have to fight the Amalites again?"

  "I don't see it, no. But I think Tarius does," Hellibolt said.

  Persius slung a hand in the air dismissing the wizard. He grabbed his cloak from his throne and walked out of the tent. They had beaten the Amalites down. Now that they knew they could not win against the might of the Jethrik army, they wouldn't dare to try again. Tarius was a man filled with righteous hatred, and Hellibolt was an old fool who knew nothing more important than how to mix a few powders.

  Outside the sun was still high in the sky. The Amalites were being stripped of their weapons and horses and forced to march on foot for the boarder. They deserved no more mercy than they were getting.

  Tarius walked over to the king as soon as she saw him.

  "Your page said you wanted to see me." Tarius was mad at Persius and made no attempt to hide the fact.

  "Dear Tarius, please try to understand. Look on the bright side. After you have taken the first division and swept the country clean of the Amalites, you can go home to your bride," Persius said.

  Tarius was not swayed. "What duty do you have for me?"

  "A duel to the death with the Amalite leader. He's an insolent bastard who cursed my whole house, and I want him dead," Persius said.

  This brought a smile to Tarius's lips. "Bring the bloated bastard on."

  * * *

  Tarius had sharpened her sword, and she stood poised and ready. The Amalite leader walked out with his retinue, cocky and self-assured until he got a look at the king's champion. His face seemed to fall a little, and his stride was cut in half for several steps. He carried a great sword, which was in Tarius's opinion one of the most worthless weapons one could have in single combat. She waited till he was almost too close before she drew her sword. Around her the men cheered her name over and over.

  The Amalite slung his blade, and she easily jumped out of the way. It slammed into the ground, and she brought her blade up into the muscle of his left arm and slid the blade across it, opening the muscle. Before he could heave the sword from the ground, she planted a good hard blow with the flat of her blade to his kidneys.

  She was playing with him, and everyone knew it.

  He spun around quickly, slinging his blade wildly, and Tarius easily blocked the blow. She looked at him and smiled.

  "That's right, you big dumb bastard, I can kill you any time I like," she said in a voice so low that he was the only one that could hear her. He couldn't understand her words, but he more than understood the tone in her voice. He knew that she was taunting him.

  He screamed and ran at her again.

  A knife appeared seemingly from nowhere. Tarius caught it by the handle in her left hand and threw it back at the would-be assassin, sticking it deep in his chest. At the same time, she sliced through the throat of his leader.

  Tarius stepped back, blood dripping from her sword. She pointed her blade at the still tottering man with a knife sticking out of his chest. "See, Persius? What did I tell you? There is no honor among the Amalites. Kill them all and be done with it."

  Persius called her over with a wave of his hand and did the same with the Amalite translator. "See this man?" Persius said to the interpreter pointing at Tarius. "He wants nothing more than to hunt you to the last man and kill you. I owe this man my life, not once but twice, and I would like nothing better than to let him have his way. However it is not in the best interest of my kingdom to continue this war, so I'm going to let you go. But tell your people this. If they so much as turn around on their way out of my country, I will not hesitate to kill them. Any Amalite who comes into the Jethrik for any reason will be killed on sight. We will not tolerate your missionaries or your traders. You stay on your side of the line, and we'll stay on ours. You cross over for any reason, and I'll let Tarius the Black do exactly what he wants to do to you and to your country. Now go . . . run."

  * * *

  By nightfall the Amalites were more than halfway to the border, being driv
en on by Jethrik soldiers on horseback. True to the king's word, any one of them who even looked over his shoulder was executed on the spot.

  Tarius had been looking for Arvon with no luck, and had finally, to her horror, taken to the field and was searching among the dead. She found him kneeling over a body, and knew immediately what had happened. Tarius ran forward, dropping to her knees beside him. She looked down at Brakston, and her tears fell freely. She put an arm around Arvon's shoulders and braced him against his racking sobs.

  "Oh, Arvon . . . I'm so sorry," Tarius said. The arrow had struck Brakston square in the chest. He hadn't had a chance. "We should kill every one of the bastards."

  "It won't bring him back, Tarius. All the killing, it won't bring anyone back," Arvon cried. "You know what he said as he was dying, Tarius?"

  Tarius knew that he didn't require an answer, so she waited silently.

  "He said that he loved me. Why did he wait till now? What good does it do anyone now? We might have loved the greatest love ever known, but I didn't know! He never told me! And I loved him, Tarius. I loved him so much that it hurt, but he kept insisting he wasn't interested in me. Why did he lie, Tarius?"

  Tarius was silent for a moment. "He was afraid of being rejected. Not by you, but by everyone else. This country is so stupid!" Tarius stood up suddenly and dried her eyes. "Rules upon rules, upon rules. Laws, within laws, within laws. All created to make sure that no one can be happy." She wasn't thinking about Brakston or even Arvon right then, she was thinking about herself. About her own problems. "As soon as I get home I'm packing up Jena and I'm leaving for Kartik. If you're smart you'll go with me." She put a hand down and helped Arvon to his feet. "Come, let's get a shovel and bury our dead."

  * * *

  A contingent of Swordmasters and swordsmen were left on the border to make sure the Amalites didn't attempt to cross over. The king and his retinue headed for the capital, and most of the soldiers headed for home.

  Tarius, Harris and Arvon led a small company of Swordmasters on a mission. They would clean the country of the Amalite menace. They would make sure that not one Amalite stood on Jethrik held land. It was also their duty to see that every last man of their own who lay slain on the field was buried.

  The Amalites were stripped naked and hauled off first. They were thrown into a nearby canyon for the buzzards to feast on their carcasses.

  The flies were as thick as water by the time they finished the task, and the bodies were starting to slip. The stench was as vile as the job, and they had to fight the vultures to bury their own dead.

  They buried them in shallow trenches, putting in as many bodies as possible. When they were done, the entire field was covered with mounds of dirt. It was only then, when they looked out on the field, that they realized all that had been lost in the war. How many wives had been widowed? How many children were now fatherless? How many parents were now childless?

  By the time they had finished their despicable task, not one among them hated the Amalites any less than Tarius.

  They moved out, a small unit only fifty men strong. They hauled with them five wagons, each overloaded with Amalite armor. This was to be distributed amongst the villages they came across. They would need every man and woman to be able to fight when next the Amalites decided to "cleanse" the earth of the unbelievers. When next the Amalites attacked, they would be ready for whatever Persius could throw at them. That was what Persius had failed to understand. He was saving a few lives now to get thousands killed later.

  Tarius rode in front, and Arvon and Dustan brought up the rear. Harris rode just behind Tarius, watching him. The war had changed them all, but it had changed Tarius the most, although Harris doubted that Tarius realized it.

  These days, Tarius was serious all the time. He never talked about home now. He never even talked about Jena. He was silent and brooding, and when he talked at all it was to give an order or damn the Amalites.

  Arvon was not much better. He was as filled with hate as Tarius had ever been. Arvon was now prone to fits of emotion so violent that one never knew what to expect from him. He would be screaming in anger one minute and crying in grief the next. Tarius would take him aside and talk to him, and he would calm down. Then he would apologize to everyone in general and no one in particular. Harris had no idea what Tarius said to him, but it seemed to help.

  The problem was that each time Tarius helped anyone these days, it seemed to take an incredible toll on him. No one else seemed to notice, perhaps because they all had problems that only Tarius could fix, but Tarius was having problems, too. Problems that no one was fixing.

  Harris wanted to help Tarius, but he didn't know how to open a dialogue with him. Didn't know how to get Tarius to drop his guard long enough to unburden himself of some of what he was carrying.

  Harris decided that as a friend it was his duty to at least try.

  He rode up along side Tarius. "So, all's quiet so far."

  "Aye," Tarius said.

  "I was wondering if you could help me with a problem," Harris said.

  He could almost see a dark cloud form around his mentor's head. One more problem. One more, and this one might be the one that was too much.

  "Let's hear it," Tarius said, lacking his normal enthusiasm.

  "Actually, it's not my problem. I have this friend with a big problem, and I don't know how to help him. He acts like the war doesn't bother him, although it is obvious to anyone with eyes that it does. Everyone comes whining to him with their problems all day long, and he never has time to catch a breath or think about his own problems. He's taking on too much responsibility; it's always work, work, working. He doesn't even joke any more, he's so serious. Everyone needs to smile every once in awhile, don't you think?"

  Tarius smiled for the first time in a week. "Sounds a dreary fellow . . . Have I really gotten that bad?"

  "You've gotten that good at leading the army," Harris said. "I'm just not sure it's good for you."

  "I'm not sure anything is good for me anymore. We didn't kill the Amalites to the last man, and so all of this was a waste of time," Tarius said. "All the bloodshed was for nothing."

  "You . . . You really believe that, Tarius?"

  "Yes, I do. They'll go home. They'll regroup, rearm, and come back stronger than ever. Their country is three times the size of Jethrik. Do you know how it got that big? By gobbling up the countries on its borders. When your opponent is bigger than you, you can't beat him with might, you have to beat them with your wits. We had them beaten, and we shouldn't have stopped till we had gotten rid of them. Beaten them down, taken control of their country and outlawed their horrid religion."

  "No wonder you've been in such a mood! You really believe that Gudgin and Brakston and all the others died for nothing?" Harris asked.

  "Oh, they stopped the Amalites for this day. Maybe a year, maybe five, maybe ten, but a wound left unbound keeps bleeding until the body is dead. Their religion encourages them to have as many children as they can make. They breed like rabbits, and they'll just keep hitting us. We'll send our best out to die on their swords, and we'll beat them back and then let them regroup. Persius lacks vision. He sends farmers home now so that there will be plenty of food for this winter. Yet he can't see the death that he has ordered by pulling the army back before it has finished its work. That's why we must arm the common man. So that everyone can fight when next the Amalites rear their ugly heads. That's why we must make sure that not one Amalite takes a breath in all of the Jethrik."

  "That's why you don't want to go home?"

  "What makes you think I don't want to go home?" Tarius asked.

  "Persius owes you his life. He respects you more than any man in this army—maybe on the planet. If you had said you wanted to go home, you would have been sent home. Obviously, you wanted to stay in the field," Harris said.

  Tarius looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Ah! Sir Knight, it seems that you have grown in more than just your fighting skills. No, I'
m not ready to go home just yet. I feel I have let my wife and the country down. I have given them a temporary repair when they had hoped for a permanent cure."

  Harris nodded. "When we first rode out, you talked of Jena every day. Now you hardly ever speak her name."

  "How can one think of beauty and purity when one is gazing at death and flies and fighting buzzards over the bodies of your friends? Only at night when I lay down to sleep and all is silent do I gaze into the darkness and think of her." Tarius had a far away look. "I hope to convince her to leave this rock before the next war and go with me to Kartik. I had hoped to beat my father's enemies here. To stop them from destroying the earth. I now see that Persius means to feed his kingdom to the Amalites. The only hope for the world lies in the Kartik army. You should come as well."

  "Leave Jethrik?"

  "Yes. Join an army that knows how to fight and win. Go to a country not governed by so many stupid laws and rules." Tarius was excited now.

  Harris laughed. "I don't know, Tarius. What of 'king and country?'"

  "The king thought nothing of offering me up against the Amalite. He put me in a fight to the death without first asking how I felt about it, and he did it for no better reason than the Amalite made him angry."

  "He knew you would win, Tarius."

  "What if I hadn't?" Tarius asked. "He sends me to fight one of them for his pride, but he won't let us save the country by ridding ourselves of them forever. He cares neither for me nor for my opinion, so why should I care for him?"