Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  A happening which didn't make for a comfortable or easy meal. What it did do was prepare him for testing the communications spell later that day.

  On someone that didn’t expect it at all.

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Captain Ford waited for him, after he collected the last of his arrows from the center of the wreath. He’d done that part in two groups of fifty, since that was as tight as he could do it without hitting his own arrows constantly. Even that space wasn’t enough for him really, so he had to change his point of aim with each shot, making a tight spiral in the center of the circle of branches and dead leaves.

  A few of the arrows had gotten clipped anyway, meaning they were going to have to be repaired or replaced the next day. That morning he’d worked making arrows and started a new war bow. A full power one, slated to go to the levies, if anyone lost one in battle. After all, even well-made things could take damage.

  The rest of the arrows were too heavy for his current bows, so he’d need to make his own.

  Standing about ten paces away, the slightly gruff Captain made a low sound in his throat. It was rough and a bit gloomy sounding.

  “From now on I want you to move back from the target five paces every ten shots you take. Out to fifty paces. Then spend the rest of your time moving back in toward the target. We’ll also be starting on shooting at wand soon. That will mean an extra hundred arrows a day. From the look of things there you could hit that now, at the range you’re working at. The real test will be adding a third more work. How do you feel? Arms and back, I mean.” There was a close look at him, checking for strain.

  There was some, though not too much to add some more shooting, if that was the goal.

  “I feel good. Strong. Probably not enough to work a more powerful bow yet, not double this one again. Still, this is easier than it was.”

  His hands worked quickly, removing the arrows and packing them into his canvas holding bag. It took a bit of effort to get a few of them out, the straw being tight enough to grab at the wood.

  “You did claim that you’d done your exercises each day. I want you to do that, if it rains or in the winter if it’s too cold to practice outside. Just in your room or someplace out of the way. Like I told you before. Pull the bow and slowly release, making the shot in your mind only. For now, if you’re done here for the day, come with me.”

  Anders sort of expected the man to slap a spear in his hands and demand he fight one of the larger guards there. Several of them were standing in the center of the fighting square, looking over at him as they walked to the edge. Rather than do that, he was handed a small wooden sword.

  If it was that at all. It might also have been a long wooden knife. It was broad along the middle, heavy and solid seeming in its thickness. The sharp edge wasn’t that at all, being well rounded. The point indicated well where that should be, only to have been rounded into half a circle, or very near that state.

  Captain Ford took one down for himself and waved one of the men over.

  “Gull, this is Brolly. Teach him to fight with a knife. Each day for an hour. If he won’t learn fast enough, beat him.” Then the man walked off, laughing as if Anders being thrashed was a great jest to the world. The others did the same, making light of his impending physical damage.

  Except Gull, who had a long scar on the side of his face, short brown hair and eyes light blue ice. The sight made him shudder a bit. Getting a hard look from the other fellow.

  Touching his cheek, his voice was cold. Steely and like he was preparing to fight for real.

  “I got this from a Doran sword, in the battle of Demanses, five years back. You think it makes me look ugly?”

  The trap there was obvious enough that even Anders the boy wouldn’t have fallen for it.

  He shook his head at Gull then, explaining what had happened.

  “It isn’t that. It’s your eyes. They reminded me of the frozen in dead in Sapphire lake. They’d come in on rafts. Archers with some fighters trying to swim in. No one had expected that, so we’d only built walls on three sides, leaving that open to get water and for fishing. No one else even knew that it was happening, until the fire arrows fell and I was the only archer we had, meaning it was up to me to stop them. I… managed. In the morning there were two hundred and fifty dead in the lake, frozen in place. That… I meant no offense. I apologize if any were taken.” He got ready to fight then. Possibly even killing the man in front of him, since that was all he was good for that way. Killing without honor.

  The man grunted at him, then nodded.

  “None taken then. I get queer looks at times. You were up in the latest then? That crap with Yanse? I heard we’d slapped them back so hard they had to declare war to save face after coming in with ten thousand against a hundred men. No one had mentioned a boy being with them.” There was a weird look then. One that seemed almost insane.

  The man stabbed at his middle, not stopping or slowing as Anders moved back, being hit several times with the rounded tip, on the left side of his chest. Without thinking he pushed the man back, using magic. That wasn’t the game there, so he transferred the blade to his right hand, that being his strong one and tried to fight back.

  After a minute of him still being hit and barely tapping the other man a few times, the big guard stopped.

  “So, you can use magic. Good. We’ll add that in later. Right now, I’m going to show you ten thrusts and slashes. Some fighters will tell you of the wonder of their own knife fighting style, with its hundreds of moves and complicated training patterns. Some of them are even good. The truth is that the object of a knife fight is to kill your enemy as fast as you can. Hit them here on the throat, in the heart, or the liver with a stab. Slash over the eyes, sides of the neck or the inside of the arms. Anyplace else is wasting time. Learn that and what I show you now, and the Captain won’t have any call to have you beaten. Not for this.”

  The man demonstrated what he wanted then, going slow or doing it twice when Anders asked him to. After a while, Gull gave him a nod.

  “Go over all of that now.” It looked like he was going to ask questions to prompt him but it was easier for Anders to simply walk the partially filled knife fighting hallway in his mind. The image of Gull stood there in each one, demonstrating what was wanted. By climbing inside of him, the image there, it was easier to mimic the moves as they were called out. A few times he was hit on the arms or his feet were kicked into position. The whole time he spoke almost the exact same words on the subject that he’d been told.

  When he finished Gull, moved to stab him again. The attack was fast and hard. Almost impossible to block or parry. Instead he moved back and to the side, forcing the man to follow him. It wasn’t total protection but when Gull rushed in to attack again, he was being stabbed in return the whole time. Not all of those were hits to good killing targets, since he wasn’t tall enough to make that work in the moment.

  Then, backing up for himself, Gull waved at the weapons rack the wooden knives had come from.

  “There we go. The Captain made it sound like you’d be hard to teach or something. Full of yourself or slow. This wasn’t bad. How are you with a sword?”

  Anders shook his head, then admitted the truth.

  “I’ve never used one. Some spear and a bit of long bow.” It sounded humble and ignorant of obvious things, spoken to the man he was standing with.

  “Heh. Well, for now we work this each day. You know Prince Erold? I mean, I’ve seen you here with him before, a month or two back. You friends?”

  Anders nodded. It was true, even if he’d been away for a while. No one was all that close to him but the youngest Prince was as close or closer than anyone else.

  “Yes. We used to play together, as children. Why?” It was his turn to get ready to fight. Not that he tried to intimidate the other man. If he was going to insult Erold, then he was at least going to be pushed down for a while.

  “Nothing. He’s not bad with a blade. Get him in
with you tomorrow, if he has time. That will be a fair matchup. Unlike you working with me. Then, no one sane ever claimed fighting was fair. Probably the real point here. If you can use magic like you did on me, you won’t need a blade, properly. This is about the other lessons then.”

  That wasn’t explained. Then, he didn't really need it to be. A thing that, perhaps, the other man, a combat veteran, knew. However long it normally took for someone to realize that they couldn’t play fair in a fight, Anders Brolly had moved right past that.

  A thing that had taken place about the time that he’d killed men and women on a lake, with them being trapped there, ordered to go to their death. Gull walked off then, doing spear drills with another guard. A thing that looked harder and more vicious than what Anders had been taught, even if all the moves were the same.

  Rather than watch, since it was time to do some magic, he moved to the same field he’d practice archery in, then stopped and focused on Debu the wonderful and unique bucket. Using a spell, he tried to empty it, making a stream of water go through the window, leading to his feet. The line he wanted was drawn in his head while he spoke the incantation.

  If Depak Sona had his shutters closed, it was going to be a large mess. Not one that would be that hard to clean up, just that required him to go to the room to do. Forcing water to crawl into the bucket was more than possible, of course. He’d done similar things for months to get rid of water and the night before to tidy his own flooded room.

  Waiting for the water took long enough he was worried that he really had either failed or hit the inside of the wooden shutters. When it finally happened he jumped a bit, since it caught him off his guard. The grass moved in front of him, like a horse was taking a piss on it. The stream was powerful and lasted for a good while, then there was a sense of relief as the spell ended, the job being done.

  After that he filled the bucket with clean water, followed by attempting to speak to Depak Sona, repeating the message five times only, so that the man would know who was contacting him.

  The words mentioned that he’d be past later, at the ambassador’s rooms, or that he could be found in the large field on the commons. Again, he wondered if he’d failed, so tried it with Master Tolan, making the same invitation. If it worked, then he wanted to try something a bit more interesting. Having the Wizard there would make that much easier.

  Of interest, both men came out of the castle at the same time, not speaking as they moved over to him. Both men waved and then glanced at the other. Depak even smiled about it. Master Tolan went entirely blank.

  “The message worked then? For both of you?” Anders could think of half a dozen reasons for both men to seek him out. It was telling that they’d both come at that specific time but things could happen that seemed to say one thing, when another was what had taken place.

  Depak smiled, bowing toward him with his hands out, palms up. Tolan followed along, using first courtly, glancing at Depak with a sour expression on his face. One that was quickly enough schooled. That kind of thing was something that Anders had noticed before from the man. Only directed at the Barquea ambassador. He was kind and fair to everyone else, including soldiers, carters and people passed on the road, no matter how rich or poor they seemed.

  Standing, both men nodded, with Master Tolan speaking first.

  “I did! I was with King Matheus at the time. He sent me to you immediately, to discuss what else you might manage. You were contacted as well, Master Magician Depak?” The term wasn’t the one that everyone used for the other man, while clearly not being an insult at all.

  Calling someone by their full title in that way was a term of respect, given the situation. As an ambassador, Depak might have been given a higher, loftier honor. Naming him that way could also be Master Tolan suggesting they were there to work on magic specifically, rather than matters of state.

  “Indeed! It was very interesting to experience. A little blocky and formal sounding. Manly and deep in tenor as well. If you hadn’t named the message as being from yourself, I would have suspected another as being the source.” There was a knowing look then and a glance at Master Tolan.

  The other man nodded.

  “I, too, noticed that. An affectation to push people toward forgetting your age?” The words were soft and pleasant seeming. Kind even, as if he’d caught the real reason for things to have happened that way.

  Anders smiled then, nodding happily about it. The real reason was likely that the voice inside of his mind sounded like Farad, not the boy he was mixed with. Saying that in the open was a poor plan.

  “Exactly. So that worked. I was understandable to you both? I was worried that I might not be for you, Depak Sona. Istlan isn’t your primary language. That has to make it harder to understand, if I got things a bit off in places.”

  The old man, who looked young and healthy, let his eyes narrow then, showing he was thinking.

  “It was helpful that you spoke in my ears several times. That was my own lack, I believe. As you said, this is not my main language, for all I’ve had much practice in recent days.”

  Depak glanced over at Master Tolan, looking for confirmation of his words.

  Touching his bare chin, Tolan finally nodded.

  “It was clear enough to me. Surprising only in the sound of voice and that there was a certain oratory air to it. Like a man giving a planned speech. That is hardly a great detriment to the process. Have you plans to add others to this technique? You spoke of being able to do that sort of thing, to the King in your letter to him. I was allowed to read it.”

  That sounded strange to him but it wasn’t up to him to tell the King who was allowed to read what he’d written. To him letters were either open to all, or private. Clearly, from that point on, if he sent things to King Matheus he needed to make certain that nothing in them couldn’t be shared openly with his advisers. Not that he knew anything like that at the moment.

  Anders let his own eyes narrow then.

  “I’ve worked up several connections to other people, already. One of them is Captain Horner. We could do that as we did with Princess Aisla, if you’re willing? I’ll send the first message, then you can read what he puts forward in response, as you did before. He should be well aware of the procedure that way, making him more capable than almost anyone else of working with us without planning things first.” The man had been there almost every time it had been tried at the camp. Part of the initial idea had been his, even.

  Master Tolan put his hands together.

  “To my tower then, gentlemen? I have writing utensils and paper there. We should draft our words carefully.”

  That was a bit of a walk, the castle not being a small place and the tower room being on the far side of the thing, near the back as it was. They moved at a good pace, without running. Even at that, Anders wasn’t breathing hard at the end. None of them were. It showed a certain level of vigor that wasn’t readily apparent with Master Tolan. Depak looked fit enough, even if his true years were greater than they seemed.

  Clearly kept that way using magic. A thing that Anders couldn’t really even begin to understand. That it wasn’t simply illusion was clear, given how easily the old man moved through the world, without the effort that old men eventually had to face.

  Inside the room, stacked along the walls, several layers deep were stacks of armor and weapons. A few other things as well. All in the colors of Yanse, without great regularity of form, when he examined the things more closely. A thing that he’d avoided doing on the trip back home. On the surface it seemed to be the same, without being made that way.

  Depak glanced at the piles of things, since there was a lot of it, then nodded. No comment on it came. If anything, the man tried not to glance at Anders at all. His actions seemed to be about not placing blame accidently.

  Only, Anders knew that the blame was his. The men that had worn the metal rings and plate, mainly archers, which was different than how Istlan did the same thing, had all died at his han
d. With his word and will behind it. Pretending that it wasn’t the case was worse than a lie. It was inaccurate. The histories should show that he, Anders Brolly, was the one person that had murdered so many.

  What remained to be seen was how it was viewed by those that came later. On the surface it was either the action of a monster or a hero. A small difference in opinion would make a huge difference in how he was seen, after he was gone.

  Master Tolan moved to his work table, arranging a writing station for Anders. As soon as it was ready, the man waved him into place, pulling a chair out for Depak Sona at the same time.

  “This will be a test of the initial system, getting Captain Horner ready to pass what is delivered along the chain of his command. Is that your plan, Master Brolly?” Tolan seemed a little bland, as if the young boy were planning something else.

  For his part, he gave a few nods, then spoke as he explained what he was doing. For both men, though mainly for Depak.

  “There are two parts to this that are different than basic spell work. You need an in-depth name for the person being contacted. The feeling of them must be captured closely, then the normal spell components added. Then to pass the words directly to their ear, you must have a language. I used syllables, which took memorizing and learning a set of two-hundred and eighty-four sounds. I tried forty-eight at first, since that works in writing fairly well. It turns out that there are a lot of subtle variations in practice when we speak things. I can write that all out for you, if you want to use the same work.” He started to write symbols, many of them being the same ones that Depak was used to seeing.

  Most of the actual text portion, the speech to be passed wasn’t.

  It took about twenty minutes to write the whole thing out, then he went over it all out loud, using Istlan for it, so nothing would activate.