The Darkness of Dawn

by Braden Michael

  Dom and Barrick. Dom and Barrick. Dom and Barrick. Asher repeated their names to himself as he burned their faces into his brain. His father seemed to know the name of every man and woman in his service, so why shouldn’t he? If he wanted to be loved and respected the way his father was, he needed to start acting like him.

  Asher smiled and nodded as he passed Dom and Barrick through the gate. The two guards reciprocated with slight bows, announcing “your Majesty” together. Asher and Damon walked across the short patch of grass that lay between the bridge and the market before them. Every person that laid eyes upon Asher peered at him ponderously. He returned eye contact with some of them, smiling politely all the while. Just be patient, he muttered under his breath, they are only trying to get the size of you. As Asher walked through the market, he walked through more people and received more contemplative glances. He quickly learned that they did not fear him but were only uncertain of him.

  “Your Majesty!” a familiar voice called out to Asher’s left. He looked around the sea of people until he saw Marcy. She was well-known around Steeltower, famous for the best food in the market.

  “It’s good to see you, Marcy.” Asher navigated through the crowd of people towards Marcy’s stand, with Damon still by his side. The glances from the passersby grew less frequent and far subtler than they were moments prior. “I have gotten quite hungry, and the Tower’s food has grown dull.”

  “You want my food?” She was shocked, but quickly adjusted her tone to avoid offending Asher. “Not meaning any offense, but I must say I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Everything is well, Marcy. You’ve given no offense.” Asher eyed a display of emberberries. “These are one of my favorites.” He sat himself at the stand before Marcy, smiling gleefully. Damon rested a hand on the handle of the sword on his belt, standing behind Asher vigilantly.

  “You can have one, my treat!” Marcy offered enthusiastically.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I would feel sour as Winterland wine if I didn’t pay you.” Asher pulled out a silver coin and placed it before Marcy. It was stamped with Asher’s own face, as all recently minted silver pieces were. She gazed at the coin wide-eyed. Asher grabbed an emberberry from the stand. He took a bite, savoring the fruit’s spiciness.

  “You trying to buy my shop with that coin?”

  “No,” Asher grinned as he pointed at the pig being roasted behind her, “just a dish of bacon, and some brown bread.” He took another bite of his emberberry.

  “Sure thing.” Marcy took a butcher knife and hacked off a sliver of the pig’s meat. She sliced the pieces thin and placed them into a metal pot which rested over an open fire. Sizzling emanated from the pot and made Asher’s stomach grumble. Marcy walked over to a large wicker basket and lifted its white linen lid, revealing a dozen rolls of brown bread, each the size of a head. Without warning, the image of Kano’s severed head flashed into his mind, causing him to jerk his head and violently cough up the bits of emberberry still in his mouth. Marcy looked at him mildly startled while Damon moved and placed his hand on Asher’s shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Damon and Marcy asked, perfectly synchronized.

  Asher snapped back into reality, and his confusion was visible to Marcy. “I’m fine,” he muttered. He could not say for certain if he was lying or not.

  “Are you sure you—” Marcy started.

  “How’s that bacon coming along?” Asher interrupted.

  Marcy regrouped herself and went over to the bacon pot, the sizzling still as loud as before. She grabbed a pair of wooden tongs from a nearby wash basket and carefully flipped the strips of meat, ensuring a full cook on both sides. She then went back to the bread basket, picked up a piece, and handed it to Asher. He picked it apart into bite-sized pieces, eating the bits one at a time. The bread tasted full and had a satisfyingly crisp texture. Asher held one of the bread bits to Damon, who grabbed it, thanked Asher, then put the food in his mouth.

  “The bacon is ready!” Marcy informed gleefully.

  The meat was presented to him on a flat wooden plate. Five long, thick slices of perfectly roasted meat were lined up one after the other. Asher grabbed a slice and took a savory bite. This is the best damn bacon I ever had, he thought. The meat was perfectly balanced between chewy and crispy, and the taste was divine. I could die this instant and be totally fine with that. He closed his eyes and carefully chewed the meat, savoring it every second he could. The look of absolute pleasure on his face was unmistakable.

  “You are enjoying that bacon a little too much, love,” Marcy chuckled. She swished the wooden tongs around the inside of the wash basket, and then massaged them with a clean rag.

  Asher took his time finishing the rest of his meal. He alternated between bread and bacon, but sometimes placed a piece of meat between two bits of bread. It was one of the best meals he’d had in recent memory. The food in the main tower may have been finely presented and contained expensive ingredients, but Marcy’s food was unparalleled. No fancy spices or salts were needed: just plain talent on Marcy’s part.

  “Marcy, you ought to be the head cook of the most elegant kitchen in the Dawnlands,” Asher complimented.

  “I appreciate your kindness, love.” She put the tongs back where they were first and threw the rag into a basket with other used rags. “But this place is the only kitchen I want to work in.”

  Asher’s smile beamed across his face. “Take care, Marcy.” Asher stood up and headed towards the market’s exit with Damon directly to his side. The glances of the passing crowds were no longer that of mild suspicion, but of simple curiosity. Asher noticed. After hearing the details of his enthrallment, he assumed the people would treat him with hateful terror, but he was glad to see himself wrong.

  Asher and Damon reached the end of the market, and the beginning of the grassy field and armory near the military gate. The field was exactly as he left it, with fenced-off training areas, and over a hundred Emberland soldiers about, playing dice, drinking, or training.

  “Attention!” a voice among the soldiers shouted. Immediately thereafter, every single soldier in the area blasted himself to his feet and remained still.

  “At ease,” said Asher.

  The hundred-plus soldiers nodded and returned to their activities. An officer who looked to be middle-aged, with a scruffy shadow of beard emerging from his face and a bald head, marched up to Asher.

  “Greetings, your Majesty,” he welcomed Asher, his hand held for a shake.

  Asher took the officer’s hand in his and shook firmly. “Colonel Schafer,” he turned his gaze over towards the training grounds, “I trust the men grow fiercer with sword?”

  While General Miles had tutored Asher in the ways of planning a war, Colonel Schafer had taught him how to fight in those wars. Through Schafer’s training, Asher had acquired remarkable combat talent.

  “Most certainly.” Schafer pointed towards a tableside with five soldiers sitting, and one soldier standing and talking to the seated ones. “The lad Andy has gone undefeated in every sparring match. Give him a sword and he can fight off the three next-best men. I’ve never seen anyone so naturally skilled—I doubt even Black Eyes could withstand him.”

  Asher may have hated the man, but Black Eyes was quite fierce in combat. Asher turned his gaze towards the man Schafer mentioned. “I would like to test his mettle,” he smugly stated.

  The Colonel looked back at Asher surprised, but nevertheless complied. “Andy!”

  Andy was in the process of sipping his ale, and when he heard his commanding officer’s thunderous voice, he nearly spat out his drink. He hurried to set the cup down on the table before him as the soldiers sitting nearby laughed boisterously. Andy sprinted over to the Colonel, kicking chunks of dirt and grass into the air behind his heels.

  “Sir!” He planted his feet just before the Colonel, with a noticeably high pace to his breath.

  “Go grab two sparring swords and bring them back here, right away
!”

  Andy was so focused on the Colonel that he did not even notice Asher. With the same manner of sprinting from just before, Andy bolted towards the armory, sifting through several racks of swords, searching for dulled edges. All the while, the soldiers were laughing even more loudly, and the Colonel, Asher, and Damon joined in with hearty chuckles. Once Andy found the sparring swords, he rushed back to the Colonel and looked at him in anticipation of his next words.

  “The Emperor-Regent here wants to test your mettle,” Schafer informed.

  Andy gulped nervously as his gaze drifted over to Asher. “Test my what?”

  “Mettle,” Asher emphasized. “The Colonel here tells me you are quite gifted at combat. Are you up for an actual challenge?”

  Oooooooooooooooh! Dozens of soldiers tuned in to Asher and Andy. Their excitement was uncontainable.

  Andy’s worried grimace morphed into a cocky grin. “I am the actual challenge.” The men in the background began to cheer and howl and laugh incredulously.

  Asher held out his hand and glanced at one of the sparring swords in Andy’s hand. Andy handed the sword in his left hand to Asher. “I’ll be the judge of that,” Asher taunted.

  He smirked and walked confidently over to the fenced-off training ground. It was on a flat bed of grass, and covered dozens of square feet, allowing ample room for swordplay. The gaggle of soldiers began to cheer incredibly loudly and shout out their excitement. A few dozen townsfolk gathered around to view the commotion. Schafer crossed his arms and patiently waited to observe the fight while Damon looked on with anticipation.

  More people had gathered around the training grounds than the area could typically allow. People were packed around densely, and children were perched upon the shoulders of their parents or older siblings. There must be hundreds of people around, Asher noticed.

  Asher pointed his sparring sword directly to Andy. “Do not hold back. That is a command.”

  “I’ll be sure not to get blood on your pretty little tunic,” Andy quipped. Ooooooooooh bellowed the soldiers in the audience.

  Andy grinned and spun his sword around in a gallant display. The sword twirled in front, behind, and to the side of his body seamlessly, and the sword handle transferred between his two hands several times with ease. When his display concluded, many crowd members cheered.

  Asher poised himself in a combat stance. His sword remained high and pointed at Andy while his legs maintained a slight bend. He took graceful and quick steps around the miniature arena, sizing up his opponent. He might be handy with a sword, but does he move well? Is he quick? What’s his weakness?

  Andy and Asher continued to prance around the arena, scanning the other. Soldiers were shouting for one of them to make a move, but Andy and Asher both understood the power of patience. The two men’s swords remained poised towards each other, and no vulnerabilities or viable openings were made apparent. Should I fake a vulnerability and make him strike, or will he see through that?

  Asher’s mind raced as he evaluated his options. He had heard Andy was an incredibly gifted swordsman, but Asher did not know why just yet. He could have great stamina, fast reaction times, great strength, or an intuitive understanding of combat. If Asher could determine the lad’s strengths, he could uncover an exploitable weakness. His intense level of focus drowned out the sea of shouts, cheers, and jeers.

  For his first move, Asher straightened his legs and started to stagger instead of prance. He also loosened his facial expression, giving Andy the false impression that his focus had waivered. Andy’s eyes began to glance downward at Asher’s legs. Take the bait, Asher muttered under his breath. Sensing an opening, Andy bolted forward and thrust his sword at Asher. Instantaneously, Asher went back to his proper stance and smacked the sword aside and countered by thrusting his own sword at him. Faster than lightning, Andy swerved his body away from the counter-attack and danced out of Asher’s reach. The crowd was lively with shouts of excitement and encouragement for both men.

  “Asher!”

  “Do it, Andy!”

  Asher’s and Andy’s swords met once again in a face-to-face cross. They both strained, then Asher gave himself breathing room, backing away a few steps. Unexpectedly, Andy came charging directly at Asher, attempting to tackle him. Just quick enough, Asher shifted his right leg outwards while bending it, then throwing the weight of his torso onto his thigh. His left leg remained stiff and directly in line with Andy’s path. As Andy’s legs collided with Asher’s left leg, he used his free arm to throw Andy over his leg, successfully tripping him.

  With cat-like reflexes, Andy recovered with a forward roll. Within a second, both men were on their feet with their swords poised in front of each other. “Nice move,” Andy complimented, “but it wasn’t enough!” How could he pull a maneuver like that in full plate armor? Asher questioned.

  Asher darted his eyes at the crowd, who all cheered with nearly incomprehensible levels of enthusiasm. Out of nowhere, Asher’s mind was assaulted by images of the mob at the village massacre and their feral, murderous faces. He jerked his head from side to side, trying to make the memories leave his mind. The haunting memories persisted, and all the crowd’s faces morphed into Asher’s. Their feral faces looked at him with bloodlust, until a cling rocked the side of his head. He fell to the ground, dropping his sword. The crowd winced, almost feeling Asher’s pain on his behalf. Asher began to sit up and looked up at Andy. He looked down at Asher with momentary concern, but once he saw that Asher was not seriously hurt, he smiled and held out his hand to Asher. He grabbed Andy’s hand and was quickly hoisted to his feet.

  The crowd began to cheer for both fighters, thoroughly entertained by the display put on for them.

  “Hey Andy.” Asher grabbed his attention under the drowning noise of the crowd.

  “Yes, your Majesty?” Andy’s cocky attitude had left him, and he became courteous and respectful.

  “How would you like a new job? I need good men for my personal guard.”

  “Your Majesty, I, uh… I would be honored!” Andy’s young face filled with excitement. He was two years younger than Asher but fought more skillfully than anyone he had crossed paths with before.

  Despite the flashbacks, the bruise on his head, and losing to a seventeen-year-old, Asher was satisfied with the events that had transpired. He looked over to Damon, who clapped his hands in applause with the rest of the crowd, with a cheerfully proud face. Thank you, Damon, Asher thought, you were the one that convinced me to step down from the main tower and be amongst my people. Despite his enjoyment, the flashbacks still haunted Asher.

  CH 13 – Black Eyes IV

  The Emperor’s party had been sailing for twenty days. The oarsmen labored vigorously, and the winds were of great assistance. As a result, the port city of Kaiyotan was already visible on the horizon. Initially, the Captain had estimated a twenty-five-day voyage. The Emperor was not upset by the expedited nature of the voyage, however. Twenty days of confinement within the war room and his quarters offered a productive work environment.

  When the Emperor was not sleeping or dining, he was at work, and Black Eyes was always impressed with his ethic. He needs to be working on something important more than he needs to eat, drink, shit, or fuck, Black Eyes believed. There were times when he sought Black Eyes’ opinion or support in formulating a plan, but the Emperor mostly preferred to work in solitude: that did not matter to Black Eyes, however. He preferred to be told who needed to be killed so he could kill them: far simpler than trying to figure it out on his own. I will never even pretend to understand all the political bickering in the world, he thought.

  Black Eyes climbed the stairs of the Firestorm to reach the deck once word of the impending arrival to Kaiyotan had reached him. The ship’s only path to the deck was the center staircase, forcing Black Eyes to walk over three hundred feet to the bow. I’ve never built a ship in my life, but even I know the builder of this ship was a dumb cunt. The deck was lively with foot traffic. Sol
diers played tabletop games on barrels, and crew members hoisted ropes and did other such tasks Black Eyes paid little attention to. After what felt like much too long of a walk, he reached the bow and stepped atop the elevated platform where one of the four massive cannons aboard the ship was placed. He could finally look upon the coastline and the city of Kaiyotan.

  The water reflected the daylight splendidly, and the trees on the coastline were a bright green that even Black Eyes could admire. The city of Kaiyotan seemed small from the distance, but the architectural beauty of each building was apparent. He could make out the outlines of three ships anchored in the bay. I thought the Headlands had hundreds of ships. Where are the rest of them? Something did not feel right…

  “Say what you want about the Yamamotos or the Headlands, they sure do live in a beautiful spot!” Captain Halbert walked up next to Black Eyes and joined him in peering at the view.

  “I can’t argue with that,” Black Eyes responded dryly.

  The Captain seemed unaware of Black Eyes’ lack of a conversational mood. “Is this your first time at sea, my Lord?”

  “I’m not a lord.”

  The Captain cleared his throat. “Is this your first time at sea, not my Lord?” He seemed pleased with his humor, but Black Eyes looked at him vacantly.

  “First time aboard a flagship dreadnaught,” Black Eyes replied.

  “She really is something, isn’t she?”

  “The layout is awful,” Black Eyes said pointedly.

  The Captain looked to Black Eyes with elements of surprise and admiration in his face. “You are a straight shooter. I don’t meet many men that live up to their reputation.”

  “You meet a lot of men, eh?” Black Eyes smirked. “You invite them on board, let them into your cabin?” Black Eyes began to emulate the Captain’s voice. “Pretty boy, come aboard my dreadnaught! I got a featherbed for two!”

  “The Emperor respects you a great deal, you know,” said Halbert, ignoring the sarcasm. “I’ve known the man over forty years. Many years ago, he told me about the day he took you in.”