Apprentice

by Nicholas Hale

  He knew that Atticus was a man of significant prowess to have made it onto the council, but for him to be as strong as Tiberius? Maybe the Zalearr was mistaken, but Azrael found that even less likely.

  Atticus...very little was known about him, other than his meteoric rise to power. Many suspected the name itself was fake, but none questioned him. Following him was his fanatically loyal 'family'. Men and women, none of noble birth, but all powerful in their own right and—if rumors were to be believed—people Atticus held in much higher regard than the nobles of Aegis.

  "What did you talk to him about?" asked Azrael out of curiosity.

  "Other than your emperor, he was the one I wanted to speak to the most. But he avoided me the entire time I was there. The other councilmembers, however, kept asking me questions about the war in the tundra."

  Something suddenly became clear to Lorian. The Zalearr.

  Zalearr were notoriously shy and intolerant of humans. Some even said they viewed humans as a lesser species.

  Astorr had avoided conversation with most of the nobles, and even Rennar, during the first banquet. He simply ignored any question directed towards him. His interest in talking to Azrael seemed to be an exception. Astorr's main purpose in traveling with the Eoran nobles would have been to grant access to the emperor's palace. It would generate significant amount of interest from the nobles of Aegis if a Zalearr were visiting the palace.

  Even the council would be interested in meeting him. They couldn't simply invite the Zalearr to the palace without inviting the Eorans too. An intelligent move by the Eorans to gain access to the palace.

  Azrael was still thinking when the Zalearr's hand suddenly snapped up and stopped short of Azrael's face.

  Azrael instinctively recoiled, thinking that the Zalearr was punching him. But the hand had long since come to a stop even before Azrael reacted.

  Azrael saw the ghostly white fist inches from his face. It was gripping an arrow.

  Even before Azrael could grasp the significance of the arrow, he was astounded that the creature in front of him could move with such speed. The Zalearr was already looking in the direction the arrow came from.

  "Three men," Astorr said without even the slightest change in his voice. "They look to be dressed as Aegeans. The same as you. Why do they want to hurt you?"

  Azrael froze when he realized that the arrow had been meant to kill him.

  His hand immediately dropped to his hilt as he started moving. There would be another arrow. Azrael heard a tiny clang, and he saw that the Zalearr had already drawn his warblade. There was a second arrow lying at his feet. Astorr had just effortlessly blocked a second arrow using his sword.

  "You should get behind me," said Astorr calmly.

  Azrael had his sword drawn and he circled around to place Astorr between himself and the direction the arrows were coming from.

  He didn't like using the Zalearr as a shield, but it seemed the arrows didn't bother Astorr much. Two more arrows were blocked by Astorr. Both of them had been aimed at Azrael. The Zalearr seemed to be able to stop them by merely flicking its massive warblade.

  "I can't see them," said Azrael, trying to get a view of the hidden assassins.

  "They seem to have retreated," said Astorr.

  What the hell was happening? Why were assassins after him?

  Realization dawned on him in an instant. Rennar. That was the only logical explanation. He had somehow figured out what Azrael had done.

  But to kill him? He must be mad! However powerful he was, he just couldn't kill the second son of Lord Serael Llothran.

  Azrael wasn't going to sheathe his sword, although Astorr replaced the warblade in its strap on his back.

  "Strange," said Astorr.

  Strange? How could the Zalearr remain so calm?

  "More men seem to be approaching."

  Azrael heard it too. Footsteps. And then he saw them burst into the courtyard.

  Aegean soldiers.

  There were at least a dozen men. Leading them was their sergeant. They were all armed in the traditional military clothing. Chainmail armor, the red tabards bearing Aegis's crest, long swords drawn.

  And the most recognizable piece of the Aegean military garb—the black shields bearing the crest of Aegis.

  The sergeant seemed a little worried as they approached. No doubt at the sight of the Zalearr. Although Astorr himself was standing still and calm with his blade still on his back. The sergeant spoke.

  "Azrael Llothran! By the authority of Governor Rennar, I hereby place you under immediate arrest. I order you to surrender your weapons!"

  "Arrest me?" asked Azrael, astounded. "What the hell for?"

  "Treason!"

  So those were Rennar's trumped-up charges. Before Azrael could speak, Astorr spoke.

  "What has he done?"

  The sergeant was looking increasingly more confused. Perhaps he was afraid of the Zalearr.

  As he was right to be. He must have heard from the archers that the Zalearr had stopped arrows with his bare hands. Suddenly, drawing out whatever courage he could muster, the sergeant spoke.

  "This doesn't concern you! You are a guest of the Aegean Empire, and of Governor Rennar. I request that you do not get involved!"

  The answer was almost immediate.

  "No."

  The scariest thing was the calm confidence with which Astorr spoke. He seemed completely relaxed. The sergeant had regressed back into his state of confusion. He appeared to be thinking. Azrael gripped his sword tightly.

  "Seize him!" shouted the sergeant.

  The soldiers rushed forward, toward Azrael and the Zalearr.

  In a flash Astorr drew his warblade.

  There was a faint thrumming sound as a strange form of heat energy radiated from the Zalearr. It made Azrael want to get away from him.

  Astorr swung the blade in frontal arc using a single hand with such speed that he appeared to slice the very air itself.

  The sand on the ground, still just moments ago, rose up in a puff of dust. Four of the soldiers at the front of the line fumbled.

  And then Astorr disappeared.

  For a moment, Azrael thought the Zalearr left him.

  Then he saw Astorr reappear behind the three soldiers who looked just as confused as Azrael had.

  He didn't see the warblade strike, but he saw the effects.

  Two quick strikes, each one cutting through all four Aegean soldiers. There was an explosive fountain of blood as each of the soldiers had their bodies cut into three distinct parts.

  Astorr disappeared again. Azrael would have loved to see what the magnificent Zalearr did next, but three soldiers were upon him, swords and shields drawn.

  Azrael wasn't even armored. All he had was his long sword. If it was just one soldier, Azrael was sure he could have beaten him, but not three.

  It wasn't about swordsmanship. In a tournament arena, Azrael knew he could have taken all three if they didn't have their damned shields.

  There was a good reason the shield had been chosen as the symbol of Aegis. The military instructors had understood that not everyone could be a great swordsman, but every man could be taught the basics of defending himself. And the shield was a less complex weapon to use. One of the great strengths of the Aegean military was how well they used their shields in defending themselves.

  And they were always taught to attack in groups.

  They never, ever fought alone unless there was no choice. It was how they were trained—to attack in groups, defend themselves at all cost. They only needed one good strike to kill; otherwise they would be completely on the defensive. Azrael knew he could get in a few strikes, but not enough to kill all three. And not before they cornered him.

  Two of them attacked at the same time.

  Azrael knew this tactic—it was the favored approach of the Aegean military when facing one or even two opponents.

  The key was the position of all three soldiers. The first soldier's strike wouldn'
t be to kill, but it would be to keep Azrael steady in his position. The middle soldier, while appearing to attack, would not—a feint. The third one, meanwhile, out of sight of the enemy, would circle behind and take a position at the back. The only job the first soldier had was to ensure that the enemy didn't move.

  It was a basic but effective tactic.

  The only problem with it was, the soldiers always expected it to work. And it did most of the time. There were hundreds of ways you could encircle an enemy, but this, according to the instructors, was the most efficient one, where the soldiers didn't get in each other's way, fumbling as a mob did. Every man in the group had his role and was meant to hold his position.

  In practice, it had a high chance of success. When fighting against someone who didn't know what the exact plan was.

  But Azrael knew this attack very well.

  He had even taught it to his own men. The key here was to attack the man who least expected it. The first one was already poised to engage him. They would expect him to attack the first one, which would let the encircling be completed. Or to turn and run, in which case both the first and the third from behind would attack him.

  The easiest target was the middle one.

  Ignoring the remaining two, Azrael rushed into the middle one, surprising him. This would be the quickest way out of the trap. Although not expecting it, he reacted as Azrael thought he would, bringing up his shield and falling into a half-crouched defensive stance.

  The sword would be useless. If the man hadn't crouched, Azrael would have kicked the shield, sending the man off balance. He had to use this chance! He could easily escape, but that would be pointless. They would try the same tactic again, this time with more awareness. And he would be dead.

  Azrael knew what to do. Astorr had chosen to attack the men from behind even though he could very well have cut their shields into pieces. It was the instinct of a warrior. This would be dangerous, as Azrael had never used it in battle before.

  The first time he had used the Rhial Knights' basic dashing attack, it had taken him a lot of time to connect with the Transcendent. But since the last few weeks, he was able to do it in a moment.

  The second he focused on his blade, he could hear the Transcendent voice. He resonated with it for the smallest moment before uttering the cant for the release.

  Not a moment too soon. He felt the fabric on his back rip as the soldier's blade met it. A little slower, and Azrael's back would have had a crippling wound.

  He darted forward a few feet. Just enough to escape the blade. And to give him an opening on the middle soldier. The man hadn't expected Azrael to move so quickly. Although he tried bringing his shield around, Azrael already had a clear view of the opening and thrust his blade into it. Twisting it, he opened the wound and continued moving forward.

  The man buckled. Azrael was sure he struck a vital organ.

  Azrael circled around the dying soldier who fell to his knees, using him to block the remaining two who had rallied.

  Having used the technique once, Azrael felt confidence flood him. He wasn't a full-fledged Rhial knight—probably nowhere near—but he could definitely use their tactics to an advantage.

  He focused on his blade, this time letting the voice resonate longer, gathering more energy. He felt his hands vibrate. Olaf would have rolled his eyes and chided him. It went against every instinct of his own as a swordsman, but he remembered how deadly the strike had been when he unleashed it on the stone block.

  This time it would be a thrust. He just needed to focus on the opening of the incoming soldier.

  He was curious to see if the thrust could pierce through an Aegean shield, but this wasn't a time to indulge his curiosity. He could die here.

  Azrael intoned the cant, and rushed forward, almost disappearing. He felt his sword scrape against the metal links of the soldier's armor and then dig into flesh. He then felt his hands hit the soldier's stomach and his own body slam against the soldier's shield.

  The sword had been driven right through the man, all the way to the hilt.

  When his vision cleared, he saw the dead soldier flying a few feet away and crashing into the ground, clutching at his open wound.

  The third soldier simply stared as Azrael took a deep breath. It was somehow hard to breathe while the Transcendent voice's energy was flowing into his body.

  Azrael fell into his attacking stance as the third soldier cautiously walked toward him. Another Rhial cant would be too dangerous. Besides, there were more enemies. Azrael rushed into the man.

  A single opponent, even with a shield would be easy for him. Add to that, this was the third soldier. The one who had chosen the position behind him. A job reserved for a soldier whose defense was still not up to mark.

  It took just a single feint to throw the soldier off balance, exposing his entire right side. Azrael slashed vertically, leaving a long gash from the man's shoulder to his midriff. He dropped his blade immediately.

  Driving the sword into his heart, Azrael finished the man.

  He turned around, expecting to see more enemies.

  Nothing.

  There were only bodies. No. Just body parts.

  Heads, hands, torsos.

  In the instant that Azrael looked, he could see not one body with all its parts.

  "Well done. You are indeed an impressive warrior," said Astorr's calm voice.

  If I'm impressive, what in hell's name are you?

  Azrael had only heard of their deadly martial prowess before, but to actually see it in action...it was frightening. Now that he thought about it, the sounds of fighting around him had stopped around the time he killed his first enemy. Astorr had killed almost ten men in the time it took him to kill one.

  "I apologize if I stood back and watched while you were fighting. But when I heard the Nozdrakh speak, I knew you would be fine."

  "No need to apologize. At all," said Azrael, still astounded at the damage Astorr had caused.

  Astorr had helped plenty. Azrael barely made it against three men. A dozen would have overwhelmed him in seconds.

  He heard the Nozdrakh speak? What was a Nozdrakh? And most importantly...

  "Why did you help me?"

  "I told you. You bear the essence of a man destined for far greater things. And I have heard your Nozdrakh's voice. You still need to grow stronger. Your Nozdrakh tried to speak to me. Perhaps when you are stronger, it can converse with me."

  There was no point trying to make sense of what the Zalearr was saying.

  "Look at this...carnage. I wonder what you could do if you were really serious."

  "Oh, but I was. The Zalearr never hold back in a battle. To do so is an insult to your opponent and to yourself."

  The 'opponents' would probably have disagreed. But Azrael was glad Astorr was here today.

  "More noises. I believe still more men come for you."

  "I need to get out of here."

  "We could kill them as well. I would be honored to hear your Nozdrakh again."

  "No!" said Azrael quickly.

  There had already been enough deaths. These were his fellow countrymen they had just slaughtered. He had just been defending himself, but he wasn't one for needless slaughter.

  More importantly, he was unarmored and even with Astorr's help, there was a small chance that he could be killed. A stray arrow or a lucky hit. There was no need to press his luck.

  "They're only after me. I need to escape now."

  "Where will you go?"

  "I'm not sure. Rennar has gone too far this time. For now, I have to escape."

  "You could go to the tundra with me."

  The frozen wastes of the tundra. Azrael shivered as he thought about it. And Namoth. Azrael wanted to say he would never do that in a hundred years, but decided to hold his tongue.

  "I don't believe there's a need for that. My father will put a stop to this madness. He's an influential man."

  Azrael sheathed his sword and ran for the stables.
Astorr followed close behind.

  "Among the border towns of Bren, the furthest one is known as Aborea," said the Zalearr. "There is an inn there known as the Banner of the Sun. It is the only place my human companions will stay, the only one they consider inhabitable. We will stop there before we ride out for Zinhara."

  Azrael could see where this was going, as he looked at the horses.

  He smiled as he found the perfect horse.

  "My companions will travel ahead, but I will wait at the inn for next seven days. Come there if you wish to travel to the tundra."

  "I really appreciate the offer," said Azrael, "but you needn't wait. As important as the war in the tundra is, there is still much that needs to be done here."

  "Nonetheless. Seven days. I will be waiting for you."

  Azrael smiled at Astorr as he saddled the horse. He really was glad the Zalearr was here today. He would have been dead even without seeing his killer had Astorr not helped him.

  "What about you?" asked Azrael suddenly.

  The Zalearr had killed a dozen guards. And from the sounds of it, more men were approaching.

  "My place is in the tundra."

  "No, no. I mean now. You just killed Rennar's men."

  "Oh. You needn't worry about that. I am strong enough to protect myself."

  Strong enough? An understatement if there ever was one.

  The horse lurched forward, bursting open the stable door. Azrael could see the men now. There were another dozen, with more following. But for now, they seemed stricken with horror looking at the bloody pool of body parts in the middle of the courtyard.

  "Take care, Azrael Llothran. We will meet again," said Astorr.

  Astorr walked towards the approaching guards, who regarded him warily. Some of them were pointing to Azrael and yelling.

  Azrael waved a raised hand at Astorr as the horse galloped away to the gates of Bren.

  *

  "What madness is this?" yelled Rennar.

  The Eoran nobles were there, including the noblewoman Talisha.

  But damn them all.

  And damn that blasted Zalearr standing in front of him as if nothing had happened. The captain was cowering as he gave his report. There were three guards next to the Zalearr, but they looked like they would soil themselves if the Zalearr made a single move.