‘Anyone proposed for this weapon need fear neither the iron nor the wooden cage. So why did you flee?’ The question struck like a whiplash.
Khara stayed stock still. Her voice was barely audible as she answered. ‘The black cage would undoubtedly have been my fate, but I did not want to be a night soldier, murdering others in their beds.’
Akkad clapped his hands once, the Sicklehopper dummy vanished and Khara came up from her bow. The Wizard rubbed his chin thoughtfully while the one-time slave looked at him, almost pleadingly.
‘I have made my decision’, he announced loudly. ‘I pronounce your worth to be fifty Imperial Gold Coins.’
Jelninolan leaped up in rage, but Khara let out a whoop of joy which caused the elf to stop in surprise.
‘I shall pay your owner your value. Your service to me will begin immediately. You will guard this property until the morning of the eighth day of the fourth moon of the year 731 after the founding of the Eternal Empire. Then your time in this house will be over.’
Khara bowed hurriedly and disappeared on feather-light feet, as if she were practically floating, to within the house.
Jelninolan stood as tall as he could, shaking with rage and looked down at the plump, smiling Wizard. Ahren was convinced now that the man had to be thousands of years old. Nobody he knew would risk being confronted by the priestess in her present mood, and both Falk and Uldini looked seriously concerned.
‘What have you done?’ demanded the elf in a tone that Ahren recognised. He’d heard it before in the seconds before she had punished Sven.
‘Use your head, girl’, hissed Akkad to her and he looked at her with real scorn.
‘What day is it? And I’m talking about the Imperial Calendar’, he demanded severely.
Jelninolan looked unsure and her rage melted under the Ancient’s self confidence.
‘Seventh day, fourth month in the year 731’, she finally said meekly.
‘There you go’, grunted Akkad, pleased with himself. ‘It will be the most expensive night sentry I’ll have ever employed, and that’s saying something, but tomorrow Khara will be yours again.’
‘And what was all that about?’ asked Ahren suspiciously. The very thought that somebody bought the girl, even if only in pretence, made his blood boil.
‘The worth that slaves from the arena give themselves is the compensation that is due to their master if they leave the arena. The worth of the slave is calculated by the buyer and is based on their achievements. The more they are worth, the higher the status of the slave. At fifty Gold Coins, Khara is now one of the best in the Brazen Kingdom. I’ll send a messenger tomorrow who can get the money to Xantukai using middlemen.’
Ahren still didn’t understand. The Wizard would really be paying? ‘But why?’ he asked.
Akkad sat down and took a sip of wine before continuing. Jelninolan followed his example although she was still far from relaxed.
‘This is how it is: we all have different notions of ourselves, some good, some malign. Jelninolan sees herself primarily as a priestess rather than as a force of nature. Uldini enjoys the role of statesman.’ He pointed at Falk and himself. ‘Your master is unable to shake off the mantle of sacrificial lamb and I can’t get the image of a young shepherd out of my head, who happened to say the wrong prayer at the wrong time and then got a visit from the THREE.’ His finger pointed over at Trogadon and Culhen. ‘He still has the outcast in his bones and your wolf doesn’t want to grow up. I’m sure there’s also a picture of yourself that you don’t want to or can’t let go off, isn’t that so?’ His piercing eyes seemed to penetrate through Ahren’s skull, and the apprentice instinctively thought of the timid son of the village drunk, an image that was always there at the back of his mind, influencing the way Ahren saw and dealt with the world.
He nodded and Akkad continued. ‘What I’m trying to say is that we can only partially influence the way we see ourselves. In Khara’s case though it was easy to solve the dilemma. She was still hanging onto the notion of herself as a contemptible, worthless fugitive, without a right to her own life. I’ve helped her to see herself as a young swordsgirl who has bought her freedom and who has earned herself a place in the world – away from the arenas. If I could only help each of you the same way with fifty Gold Coins’, he finished with a wistful sigh.
A silence came over the veranda and Akkad clapped his hands, at which the canopy vanished. They all looked up at the twinkling stars which decorated the heavens above them. Nobody spoke a word. Everyone considered their own visions of themselves, which were either spurring them on or holding them back.
Chapter 12
The contemplative mood of the previous evening was replaced by a boisterous atmosphere at the following morning’s breakfast, not least because of the fancy dishes that Akkad had conjured up: iced strawberries with cream, warm apple pie, and over half a dozen exotic fruit that Ahren had never seen before and which their host assured them came from the Southern Jungles.
Everyone helped themselves, relishing the meal until Akkad looked critically at the position of the sun. ‘That should be enough’, he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. ‘Khara, you can come up now. Your watch has finished.’ The young woman had guarded the entrance to the property right through the night, ignoring all distractions and keeping one hand continuously on Wind Blade. Ahren had hoped to speak with her before going to bed the previous night, but she had ignored him, and so he had retired with a sigh of frustration.
Within a few heartbeats the one-time slave appeared on the veranda and bowed before Akkad, who stood up and gestured commandingly to the others to follow suit. They quickly stood up, and Ahren was curious to see what would happen next.
The Wizard clapped his hands once, and Khara straightened up, seeming completely calm on the outside, but her eyes burned with a longing that surprised the apprentice.
‘Khara from the Guitu-Arena, I hereby discharge you honourably from my service. You have served well and conscientiously, and as a sign of your status I present you with this Blade-Pin, by which everyone can see a free warrior is standing before them.’ As he was speaking, he reached under his loose clothing and pulled out a small white glittering hairpin. He gave a slight bow and handed it to her.
The swordfighter took the slim little object with shaking fingers and bowed in response before skilfully and swiftly tying a knot in her hair with it.
She looked at the others proudly and sat down on the marble bench without saying a word. Ahren looked at the girl in amazement. She seemed to have been transformed in front of their very eyes. Her back was as straight as a post, her eyes were calm and confident, her hair which she had used so often over the previous moons as a protective veil, was now neatly tied except for a solitary strand falling over her right ear. The effect of all this was striking. It seemed to the apprentice that a completely new person was sitting opposite him, and when he smiled at her and he received a smile in return, Ahren decided that he really liked this new Khara.
Ahren hated the new Khara. They had a short training session after breakfast, and the apprentice was aghast to realise that the young woman was expressing her new self-confidence by mercilessly and unhesitatingly taking advantage of all of his failings in the art of swordplay. He sat bent over at the water’s edge, washing his cuts and bruises in the clear volcanic lake, trying to come up with an excuse for withdrawing his offer to become her training partner without losing face. With his tongue he jiggled a tooth that had come loose thanks to a sharp backhander. If he was to continue being abused as a manikin, he would literally lose face, and he was quite sure he would still need that for future purposes. And anyway, he only had the one face, and he was actually quite fond of it.
Laughter filled his spirit as Culhen reacted to his angry sarcasm. Khara good girl. Very strong. And fast. Much better than you, he shared with the young Paladin, who was at that moment awkwardly cooling his left eye by ducking his head half under the water.
&nbs
p; Ahren got his revenge by imagining a scrawny white wolf looking sadly at his empty feeding bowl. If I’m really that bad, then it looks like I won’t be able to supply you with food in the future, he shot back darkly.
Culhen let out a terrified yelp and pressed his wet nose into Ahren’s chest. The apprentice rubbed along the bridge of his friend’s nose with a smile and was amazed at how big the wolf had become. Culhen’s shoulders reached up to Ahren’s stomach already. The Elfish animal blessing that Jelninolan had spoken over him had seemed to have caused another growth spurt. Ahren hoped that the wolf would stop growing soon or nobody would regard him as a normal animal. Already he could be described as exotic at best, and Ahren feared that when the wolf was seen for the first time, he might be mistaken for a Dark One on account of his size.
‘That can become a real problem’, said Ahren quietly and tickled Culhen behind the ear. The wolf let out a contented growl.
‘This is where you’ve been hiding then’, said Falk, coming up behind them. ‘Are you licking your wounds? Khara marched by me so triumphantly, I thought to myself you must really have been through the mill.’
Much to Ahren’s surprise, there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in the grey-haired man’s words. He nodded without turning around. ‘She was clearly in a celebratory mood’, he mumbled. Apparently, a tenderised boy is part of the proceedings.’
Falk laughed at the young man’s dry humour. ‘It’s good you’re accepting it with dignity.’ He looked Ahren up and down. ‘It’s not that bad. The main thing is, you’ve learned something.’
Ahren wanted to retort that his only aim had been to enable Khara to train with her weapons, but he bit his tongue. However painful it was, the young woman had pointed up some of his weaknesses and told him how he could overcome them. She had cleverly combined her own exercises with his learning. He narrowed his eyes and abandoned any hope of renegotiating their agreement.
‘Do you know what the healing herbs are like in this region?’ he asked instead, and Falk slapped him good-naturedly on the back. ‘It will all work out’, he said, acknowledging his pupil’s stoic acceptance of the situation. ‘Come on now, our escort is here, and we want to depart.’
Ahren nodded and poured water over his head one last time. He really didn’t feel any compulsion to be covered in the dust of the road again and had nothing against staying another day in this peaceful place. He examined the boats on the water for a moment, and spotted a seagull, hanging over the water like a little black dot. There was something strange about the animal...and as the dot grew rapidly bigger, Ahren realised it wasn’t an animal that was approaching them.
The arrow was flying at high speed towards him, and the young man was so surprised he couldn’t move. Falk, however, followed the eyes of his apprentice and reacted with all the experience of a canny veteran.
‘Down!’ he screamed in warning and yanked Ahren to the side.
The young Forest Guardian was swept to the ground as Falk threw him downwards, and then there was the sound of a dull thud followed by a horrible crunch. Falk screamed in pain and began cursing.
Ahren spun around and saw to his horror that a thick arrow was stuck in his master’s chest, just under his right shoulder. The force had carried the wide arrowhead out the other side, and blood shot out both the entry and exit points created by the cross-shaped warhead. To Ahren’s horror, Falk’s face was already pale and his curses were becoming quieter. The shaft of the arrow had not sealed the wide channel of the wound, and his mentor was rapidly bleeding to death.
Overcoming his panic, Ahren embraced the old man so that he wouldn’t fall to the ground and thereby dislodge the arrow. He placed the flat of both hands on the two wounds, the shaft between index and middle finger, and he pressed with all his might. His training as an archer had taught him that blood loss was his greatest enemy at this point, and in his thoughts, he sent Culhen off to get help - Selsena was already letting out a shrill whinny.
Ahren breathed a sigh of relief. The Titejunanwa must have already felt Falk’s pain and she would alert the others.
‘Hold on, master!’ he cried out, his voice agitated, and he looked at his master’s eyes, normally so severe, but now becoming glassy. The blood was still spluttering between his fingers, and so he pressed with more effort, causing Falk to groan in pain.
‘It almost seems as if you’re enjoying this, boy’, he gasped, and Ahren gave him a tortured smile.
‘Don’t talk’, he ordered, but Falk simply shook his head.
‘Sniper’, he whispered and pointed to where the arrow had come from.
Ahren’s brain was racing as he realised that a second projectile could come flying at any time and searched feverishly for any tell-tale black dots in the sky.
‘I can’t move you, you’ll lose too much blood’, he gasped in a sobbing voice. Falk’s face was now ashen in colour and Ahren looked back and forth between the lake and Akkad’s property. What on earth was keeping the others?
‘Over here! Over here!’ he screamed again and again until Jelninolan and Uldini finally came running out of the house. Selsena galloped around the corner at the same instant. She had stayed the day and night in a comfortable stable at the back of the property, but now she stormed scornfully off along the waterfront in order to get at the miscreant on the other side of the crater as soon as possible.
The two wizards were casting charms even as they were approaching, both of which hit Falk simultaneously. A blue light caused the old man to immediately go limp, and a red shimmer covered the two wounds, causing the blood to congeal within a heartbeat.
Ahren misinterpreted the slack body for a moment and painfully blinked away his tears, his hands still pressed firmly below his master’s shoulders. He was fighting hard to contain his rising panic.
Trogadon and Khara also arrived from the house, followed by Akkad, who was gasping for breath.
‘What’s happened’, shouted Uldini imperiously, whose floating magic had enabled him to be the first beside the injured man.
‘He’s been hit by an arrow. There must be a sniper lurking somewhere on the other side of the lake’, gasped Ahren. ‘He’s lost too much blood. Do something!’ the young man knew he had to hold his nerve, had to be heroic and calm, but by now he was covered in his master’s blood, and only a few heartbeats earlier they’d been joking around and laughing, and now he was lying there and...
He felt a sharp slap across his cheek. ‘Pull yourself together’, commanded Jelninolan. ‘You’re in shock, but you’re no good just babbling...’
Ahren looked at her in irritation, but then the penny dropped. He had clearly been on the point of losing his self-control. He looked down at Falk, whom he was still clasping. The wounds had stopped bleeding and were covered in a thick crust, but his master’s face now looked more dead than alive.
When Trogadon had heard Ahren’s warning that a sniper was wreaking havoc, he had run back into the building and now he came storming back out carrying Falk’s shield. The dwarf positioned himself in front of them and shielded them effectively with the piece of Deep Steel.
‘The magic sleep has calmed him. His heart is pumping much more slowly now, but he’s still lost a lot of blood’, said Jelninolan in a concerned voice. ‘We have to get the arrow out, Uldini, without opening the wound up further. Any ideas?’
The small wizard merely grunted and pointed at the wood, which was immediately turned into ash. A little trickle came from the wounds, and then the surfaces crusted over again.
Jelninolan’s eyes opened wide in amazement, and she gave a nod of approval. ‘You’ll have to teach me that trick sometime’, she murmured.
‘My own invention’, snapped the childlike figure. ‘I was shot at once. After an experience like that you think long and hard about suitable magic.’
‘Can you not create a magic shield to protect us?’ interjected Ahren.
Uldini shook his head and pointed at the remains of the arrow. ‘Too much force. Arrows li
ke that have been created to penetrate magic shields. Maybe we could make one strong enough if we didn’t have to save Falk’s life, but as you can see we have more than enough to do as it is’, he snorted snappily.
‘I can help there’, said Akkad, and immediately a solid brick wall several paces broad and tall appeared, providing a solid defence against further attack from the air. Blindsided, Trogadon dropped the shield and staggered backwards as the magic construction appeared right in front of his nose. ‘A little warning would have been nice’, he grumbled as he knocked curiously against the solid stonework. ‘Could have been built by the dwarves themselves. We’ll be safe behind this alright.’
Uldini and Jelninolan were now bending over Falk, and they both placed their hands on the wounds of the old Forest Guardian. Ahren had made room for them and was now only supporting his master’s upper body so that the two magicians could work undisturbed.
‘Now gentle and steady’, whispered Jelninolan. ‘The new tissue has to knit from the middle; otherwise Falk will be hunchbacked later.’
‘Then he’d be even more unbearable, and we certainly don’t want that’, quipped Uldini cynically, and Ahren gave a sigh of relief on hearing the black humour of the dark-skinned Arch Wizard. If Uldini was using taunts, then Falk was out of immediate danger for the time being at least.
The simultaneous incantations caused the edges of the wounds to knit together, and fresh pale skin formed over the once gaping holes. Jelninolan whispered one last charm, then took her hands away and gave a grim smile of satisfaction. ‘Three weeks rest and he’ll be as good as new’, she announced, exhausted. She looked at the Arch Wizard, who was similarly bathed in sweat. ‘I have to admit that now I’m only too pleased we’re going to be travelling with a luxurious escort party. That way we can transport Falk without doing him any damage, and we can improve his health further with more charms.’
Uldini bowed ironically, but when he answered, his voice was serious. ‘We should get going immediately. The assassin may well be able to hide easily enough in Waterheart, but it will be a different kettle of fish on the Sword Path.’
The Brazen City Page 21
