by Sam Sea
Never again will I be left without a weapon. Rather die fighting than ever be caught alive… It was something often said during his training, but now he believed every letter in the saying.
He felt stronger and coats heavy weight felt good over his shoulders. The fox hat he put on provided welcoming warmth, and he hurried toward the tavern.
Les could smell the fragrance of fried eggs being overcome by the one of burned bacon before he even climbed its first step. His mouth salivated instantly. But making the first step up reminded him that his toes were broken and that he should climb without leaning on them.
As he entered the tavern through its jarred door, the first thing he noticed was the dead silence. Even the sounds from the kitchen were completely absent. Then he noticed the stream of blood covering the floor, racing down to his booths. And he started to notice disabled bodies of what once was soldiers laid slain across the floor. They were all dressed in the red and gold uniforms, obviously Sirnian’s soldiers. One closest to him was missing a hand and a good part of his throat, the other seemed cut in the middle of his waste. Two lay faced down, without moving, their coat pierced in the back. One was even nailed to the wall with what was obviously his own sword, the other next to him seemed frozen at the moment his hands were trying to put his own guts back into his abdominals.
Mikka set alone at the table in the middle of the carnage, finishing a plate of food, oblivious to everything, not even lifting her head up to see the horror on Les’s face. Her plate seemed almost completely wiped clean, a piece of the bread swiping the last bits of the food left. There was another one, grilled steak and potatoes, and two fried eggs splattered over them, all waiting in front of the chair next to Mikka’s.
“Are you going to have it here, or you want to take it for the road?” Mikka asked obviously in complete oblivion to the scene around herself.
“You cannot be of this world.” The words sipped from his lips. “I saw a lot of horror in my life, but you… you, you are…”
“Do you want me to eat this?” Mikka asked pointing to the full plate. “Not that I couldn’t.”
“No, I’ll eat it on the road.”
How, how does she do that? These were all veteran soldiers, not some drunks who got out of cantina after having one bottle too many. One pale woman against them all? What could she do when she feels good?
“The tavern keeper… He disappeared… Is he friend of yours too? Are they going to be swimming with the fishes too?” Mikka asked him, but he could not tell if she was serious or not.
So, Les shrugged the question off, taking another second to compose himself. “You know, the next time you decide to sever bodies and kill people, can you wait for me, please? I certainly would like to see how you do it.”
“I don’t teach.” Mikka answered taking her coat, sticking another drawing of his to his chest.
“You know,” Les said more to himself… “I was wrong when I called you an angel…”
“I told you so.”
“I was wrong… You’re no angel… You’re a true goddess.”
Mikka turned around to see him still staring at her, frozen in the moment and owe. She found it easier not to smile and just hissed at him through her teeth. “Shut up! These men came on horses. It’s safe to say that they would not argue if we took them, so let’s see if they can pull that wagon faster than the ox can. We better be fast. I bet more will come after us soon.”
Les nodded his head as Mikka shoved his food plate to him “But first, get your food, stupid! And show me what weapons you got at that store of yours where you so eagerly ran off to.”
***
The Monastery of Vartta, the holiest place of Bo’Ra priests, wasn’t the easiest place to get to. After traveling over northern prairie, visitors would first see Sortan Cliffs rising up, vertically, almost as if the giants had piled up bunch of rocks and then sliced one side horizontally. They say that a long time ago, there was a sea there, and the cliffs were actually the coastline. The stone walls of the cliff seemed to have no ending or beginning, but at one point, it split and a small passage way lead inside. The trail, big enough only for a few people to walk abreast, curved to the left and right, and then opened to the site of the monastery’s front gate.
On the first look, it seemed that the whole monastery has been carved inside the rock, stretching magnificently five stories up. But that was only the outside appearance. If the visitor was ever lowered the gate and allowed to climb up to pass to the second gate, he would see that the monastery actually opened to a great plateau, with the waterfall smashing in the pool of life in its far end. The richest of all kingdoms have paid their weight in gold to bathe in that pool as it was meant to cure strange diseases and prolong life. The waiting list of those wishing to come was long, and the process of selection known only to the grand master himself.
The very top of the monastery was edged by a watch towers capable of seeing anyone who ventured this far north. Priests, those wearing greenish robes, who took celibacy of silence, were watching the area, ringing small bells whenever anyone was spotted coming. Thus, nobody ever came to the monastery without first being spotted. Beyond the watch towers, the roof s of the monastery were covered in other gardens with a few fruit trees and vines, making the most of the short growing season. Only priests in long, white robes were allowed to stroll through those exclusive gardens.
The chill of winter has already naked all the trees, and an occasional monk was gathering the last of the fallen leaves.
In the middle of one of the gardens, by the small pond which decorated its very center, two priests set, talking. Their oversized hoods completely covered their faces, providing warmth and protection from the mountain wind. Their milky white robes were decorated with golden edges, indicating their highest status.
“Have everyone already come?”
“Four of them did, but we are still waiting for the last one… the most important one.”
“Has he been rescued? Any word from the crow master.”
“Yes, five days ago… They are on their way. But he has been badly tortured. How long he has to live, we cannot know.”
“If he has been rescued, he might stand a chance. We gave some medicine to his rescuer which should help him. I think it will not be too long then before they both come…”
“I hope so. Our spies say that he has been greatly injured, his bones broken… his life might be hanging on a threat… Even if he makes it here alive, he will need weeks if months to heal…”
“We do not have that amount of time… Grandmaster can heal him faster. He has the power to do so.”
“Yes, yes, we are all aware of his great power… We’ve seen his miracles. There was never a man like him before, ever… not in fifty years that I have lived in this monastery” The man didn’t take his eyes of the pond.”
“You are right. I’ve been here longer than that, and have not seen anybody who can perform miracles of gods like he can.”
“Do you think he is our true savior, just like the books of old say?”
“No, I do not dare to hope for… all of that. But he is a great master nevertheless. Imagine, during the last ten years he lead us, how many new churches have been build?”
“Almost in every city around five kingdoms… Certainly, we have priests now close to each crown, there to help and serve our great lords in their hour of need.”
“That is true.”
“He is a great leader.”
“Yes.”
“He made us who we are…”
“Yes, he seeded our religion across the known world. Donations have never been greater, our coffers have never been fuller. I’ve seen us collect more gold than I thought existed in this world.”
“He spread the word of our savior and the path of the light across every corner of known world. Even sent missions beyond our borders... ”
“Many priests would not agree with you on that matter. They still grieve those brothers that left
on those missions and never came back.”
“He certainly performed wonders…”
“Yes many of them have been seduced by his miracles. And you cannot blame them. Many of them are young and have never seen any magic ever being set free.”
“How do other four look alike? Do they seem capable?”
“Very much so. One of them is bigger than you, me and priest Dirktos together.
The priest chuckled remembering that priest Dirktos was a huge man wearing three hundred pounds of fat on his seven feet tall body.
“One is the current Champion of Three Rivers. They say he can fight against five swords at the same time, and that is trained swords by all measures. I imagine that all the guards we have here and young priest learning the art of defending could not stand against them.”
“I’ll make sure to look at them all today… But we need the fifth man…We need that man here…without him, our hopes would become only wild wish lists. We need that man alive.”
“Why is that the case, brother?”
“Because he has knowledge of things that we need.”
“And how are you aware of that?”
“That is besides the point…”
“I understand, brother. We need both of them alive. They both can serve us very well. We will send guards to escort them as soon as we hear that they have crossed the river… I dare not send them escort earlier…the spies are everywhere, maybe even here. And we do not want anybody to know.”
“You are right, brother and I agree with you…Nobody can know… So better wait for them to leave the last town after the river, and then send the riders to escort them… Hopefully they will make it.”
“Yes, it would be good if they did… we could use both of them…
“But, I am afraid that only the man should live. The women, when she comes here, when she relaxes a bit and put her guards down…kill her. Silently, without the man knowing, without anyone seeing it. She has already served her purpose. And she cannot be left to live.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? She seems very capable…if the half of what was said about her is true, she can be extremely useful to us. Imagine everything she could do? If we can control her, she could-”
“Yes, I am sure… there are reasons of which I cannot tell you now, but you have to trust me. She cannot be allowed to live. All our lives might depend on it. Do you understand?”
The man took a second to let go of his breath before he continued “I understand sire. It will be done as you asked.”
“If the other man acquires about her… Tell him that she has received her payment and that she has already left… Pick your choice how to do it, during the darkest hour of the night with the dagger, in the morning through the food she eats, in the courthouse by some accident, you pick your choice… But it needs to be done. “
“The options you mention…well, many are not possible actually. Our grandmaster forbids us to use any poison… Ever since he was voted in, we had to discard all we had. Even books on how to make them had to be turned over to him.”
“But there must be books of old, hidden somewhere in the main library which he is not aware of… I am sure there must be a recipe there of some sort…”
“I can look through it, and if I don’t find anything, I’ll get something else ready..”
“I know you will. Just tell no one about this. Like we had agreed. Make sure the grandmaster does never find out… He was very specific to keep her alive… ”
“Then why, my brother, are we doing this?”
“It is for the best of all of us… It is to save grandmaster himself. You have to trust me, and you will see.”
The other priest took a moment, looking at the pond and rifles of tiny waves his thrown stone has caused. “It will be done…”
Chapter 7
- The Champion
The City of Three Rivers, five years ago…
A long silvery sword clashed on top of another, and stood there almost frozen, almost as if two became joined. The clank of the metal still echoed through the silenced crowd, and all two thousand souls waited breathlessly in anticipation of what was to happen next. The women of audience bid their knuckles as their children looked in disbelief.
Ser Bartolomizus, the crown prince of Three Rivers was on one knee, blocking with his sword the one that Ronnich from Wier Woods had uses to try to smash his head. In the last five years he had competed in the arena, it has not ever happen that someone got him down to his knee.
The dance they played in the dusty court seemed to have went awfully wrong. The prince was expected to finish of a newcomer, a fighter that never fought any tournaments before. How he made it to the final fight surprised anyone who did not watch him.
After twenty minutes of trading blows, both of them, drenched in sweat, slowed down and their dancing seemed to have turned more into stuttering now.
Their shields have already been splintered, and now a single blow might decide who wins the tournament and who dies.
They stood there, with their swords crossed, almost as a statute, but then Ronnich, unable to go further with his sword, kicked the prince in the chest armor with his right boot and knocked him on his back.
The crowd gasped for air in a loud shock.
It was the second time that the prince was thrown in the dust by Ronnich. Only a few minutes ago, Ronnich elbowed Ser Bartolomizus in the head before a powerful blow over his calves send him to his back. Back then, he waited for him to get up, and take off his leg armor which was broken in half. But this time he did not. He attacked, not prince’s unprotected legs - he could have chopped his limb easily, not his head, which for a second was left open to be stabbed. He attacked the sword which was held in only one hand, the other being used to try and pull himself up from the dirt.
He swing his iron so hard that when prince’s extended sword met it, it jumped out of his hand, and landed but a foot away from his finger and his reach.
The prince struggled and frantically raced in outmost panic to reclaim it, but boot was already on top of the lost sword, and his own weapon placed but inches from prince’s banged up helmet.
The prince knew he was beat, and dropped his exhausted body back in the dust.
“I yield,” he managed to mutter, but the silent crowd did not seem to understand.
How could have their prince lost? Most who bet, had bet otherwise.
“I yield!” He said again, out loud through the breath which still sought air. “My challenger has won,” he had to repeat as it seemed that nobody could believe it.
Then the trumpets sounded and a speaker announced Ronnich as the winner, but only a few in the crowd decided to cheer for him. Most were men of the city, and few ever cared to know of Ronnich and his far away forest.
An hour later, as Ronnich was taking off his armor inside his tent, two men stepped inside.
“Sorry if we disturb you, but we would like to congratulate you…” the smaller of two men greeted him with an extended hand. The small smile covering his thin lips did not extend to fox-liked eyes that were examining him closely. “I am Ithon of Sarta’s Rock Island, and this here is Lomirus, the grandmaster of the East Trading Outfit. Again, sorry to disturb your moment of rest…
“That is fine…” the champion said shaking his hand.
“We are also business men who would like to make you an interesting proposal…”
Ronnich looked at them and waited to continue. He reached for the water and let it flow down his throat and his back as the small man started to talk.
“We would like to make you an offer to make five times what you made here… We are owners of a small fighting arena just outside this city. For a single fight, we are ready to offer you five hundred gold ducats… That is five times what you made here having six fights all in all, isn’t it?”
“Go on… You said a private arena… Who would I need to fight?”
“Well, you are the champion now of all the Five Kingdoms,
so no single fighter could stand against you. I don’t think that a fight against anyone would be very fair…I mean you can enter it and I am certain you would win… So we would like to make it more interesting,“ The foxy eyes danced against his face, obviously enjoying his own idea way too much.
“I am really not interested in fighting in private pits. I’ve heard of those places, and think better of myself.”
“But, what if we give you an extra five hundred gold pieces and you get to fight three warriors at the same time. Would you do it?”
Ronnich looked at the bag of gold laying next to his broken shield. His wife will certainly be glad how much he will bring home. That can buy a small herd. But thousand more coins could buy so much more. He could help so many with that money.
“What are the rules?”
“No armor… It’s free fighting and nobody in the pits uses any.”
“Do I need to kill to win?”
“No, you do not. But the looser has to stay on the ground while the drum beats twenty times.”
Ronnich set down and took his leg armor off. He took the sword back in his hand and looked at it. “I want half of the money before the fight, regardless if I win or lose…”
“We can do that… We can give you the gold right now if needs be… The rest is yours afterwards…if you win.” Ronnich nodded his head and shook the man’s hand again.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Carti, his squire, walked in from the back entrance as soon as two men left. He was a boy not older than twelve, but wiser than most men double his age.
“Yes… I will do it.”
“It is riskier?”
“Yes.”
“This would be enough to buy animals.”
“Yes, but with other coins, who knows? Maybe we can even help your father pay off all the loan. The bakery might become his again.”
“My father, you should not worry about him. He is a drunk and a foul…”
