by Scott Baron
“What can I do for you, Sire?”
“I wanted to thank you for joining me in the demonstration today.”
“Anything for the kingdom,” he replied.
Charlie noted he said kingdom. Not king.
“I also wanted to discuss the addition of some new training to add to your regimen.”
“Whatever your highness wishes.”
“No, Captain, I want this to be a joint process. I value your input and experience, and am not trying to usurp your long history with the men. It’s just that where I come from, we do things a little differently, and I saw an area in which the men’s training could be improved. It does not reflect on you or your service. I hope you realize that.”
“Of course, Sire.”
He was saying what was expected of him, but Charlie wasn’t buying it.
“Look, I’ve watched you for a long time now. Since the day I first arrived, actually.”
“When you wondered if you might have to fight me,” Sheeran stated, plainly.
“Yes. If your king had commanded it, you and I would have fought. But things went a bit differently than any of us would have expected, eh?”
“Your dragon saw to that,” he replied, his face unreadable.
“Yes, she did. But you acted wisely, and your men lived because of it. That was restraint and wisdom I saw that day. It was one of the main reasons I asked you to stay on as head of the guard. You’re a smart man, Captain. Smarter and far more capable than most in the castle, if fact.”
“Flattery does not suit soldiers.”
“No, but honest discussion does.” Charlie paced the room, admiring the weapons on the wall. “Look, I understand what it feels like to have your martial skills bested. Believe me, I’ve had it happen to me countless times, and it’s never fun. But it is a learning opportunity.”
“Your skills are indeed, surprisingly formidable,” he reluctantly agreed. “I’d not wish to face the man who trained you.”
“There have been a few who did, you know. Basic training, and some Krav and Silat in my free time, but for this style, Ser Baruud was the man’s name. A gladiator slave who earned his freedom. One of the deadliest fighters I’ve known. I do miss training with him,” Charlie said, momentarily lost in memories.
“But he is elsewhere.”
“Yeah, you could definitely say that. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”
“You could perhaps return to your lands,” he dared suggest.
“I would if I could, but that’s just not an option. We’re stuck here, so we have to make the most of it. And that’s what I was getting to. Making the most of things. Ser Baruud was already far superior to any in his realm when we first met, but he saw something unusual in my style. And you know what he did? Rather than drill it out of me, forcing me to fit into a fixed mold, he watched, and learned, and eventually adopted the parts he found useful into his own training.”
“As a warrior would. We strive to improve.”
“Exactly! That’s the thing. I greatly respect your talents, Captain, but even the most skilled fighter can always learn new tricks.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me. I learn every day.”
“But who teaches you now? You said your teacher was far away.”
“That’s, uh, complicated.”
Charlie walked to the weapons collection once more, plucking a sword from the wall, giving it a few swings, then replacing it in its spot.
“Good balance.”
“It has served me well,” the captain replied.
Charlie reached deep within his robes and removed a long dagger and its scabbard from its hiding spot. It wasn’t his favorite, but he’d carried it with him from the distant galaxy where he’d procured it.
It was a Tslavar design, gentle curves and scrollwork in the pommel, the blade possessing the faintest of glows. It wasn’t a true enchanted blade––only a fool would part with such a thing––but there was a little power to the weapon. It would hold its edge after even the most vigorous use. And it would never rust or tarnish.
He held it out to the captain.
“I brought this from far, far away. In this place, it is one of a kind. Ever sharp and true.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want you to have this. As a token of my faith in you. To thank you for all you do for the kingdom.”
Charlie made sure to emphasize the last word. The captain’s loyalties were to the realm and its people, not the man wearing the crown. Perhaps that would change one day, but for now, faithfulness to the kingdom would suffice.
The captain hesitated, then took the dagger, slowly pulling the blade from its sheath. The faint glow made him catch his breath.
“A magical blade?”
“I’d keep it sheathed unless you truly need it. Too many questions otherwise. And it’s good to have a few surprises up one’s sleeve, is it not?”
The captain admired the blade, turning it over in his hands. “Yes, Sire. That it is.”
“Excellent. I’ll leave you to it, then. Places to go, king stuff to do, you know. I’ll draft up some new training to incorporate in the men’s regimens. We’ll start adding it in tomorrow.”
Charlie left the man, turning his back to the disgruntled soldier with a deadly, magical blade in his hands. His senses were on edge, and he was ready to move, if need be, as he walked out the door, but even if he did have ill intentions, the captain would not stoop so low as to stab someone in the back, least of all the king.
Charlie walked away from the old soldier’s quarters wondering if he’d made headway with the man, or merely better-armed his foe.
Time would tell. Hopefully in a bloodless manner.
Chapter Five
Charlie dove to the side, rolling across the hard stones as the small blade flashed through the space he had been occupying moments before. His boots scrambled for purchase on the dusty floor, digging in and gripping the rock face as he launched himself into a counter assault.
He spun in the air, throwing a diversionary attack while positioning his body to land in a solid defensive stance, weapons held ready.
Another blade, this one longer, swished through the air. Charlie deflected it with a sparking parry of his own weapon, then turned his focus to the foot-sweep spell welling up in his mind. A counterspell blocked it, but that instant of surprise and reaction gained him a momentary advantage. One he pressed to the best of his abilities.
Charlie eschewed both weapons and magic, opting for a good old-fashioned tackle, pinning his opponent’s arms as best he could in the process. He could still be cut, but not by anything so deadly as a full-force swing.
The two men hit the ground with a dusty wumph, wrestling one another as they struggled to be the first to achieve the mount position. A sharp pain shot through Charlie’s shoulder and despite his best efforts, his body reacted of its own accord, twisting ever-so slightly to escape the nerve attack.
That was all his deadly opponent needed, quickly trapping his arm and pushing with his hips, flipping Charlie onto his back. The fight continued, the men discarding their long weapons and scrambling for their smaller ones concealed on their persons. The point of a deceptively small––yet quite deadly––dagger pressed into Charlie’s neck.
“Shit. You got me,” he grumbled, ceasing his struggles.
Bawb laughed, pushing the hair from his sweaty brow as he climbed back to his feet.
“But that was better, Charlie,” he said, reaching down to help his friend up. “Much better.”
“But you still got me.”
“Yes, but I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”
“Well, yeah. But still.”
“You improve greatly every day. And Charlie, you are becoming quite proficient in casting without a konus or slaap. It was a well-placed surprise attack. The magic imbued within you from your bond to the Wise One is growing stronger. And with it, your control.”
It was tr
ue. While Charlie had no problems casting his spells using either his wrist-worn konus or brass knuckle-looking slaap, it was the internal magic rather than that stored in those devices he had been cultivating. Ever since he and his dragon friend had accidentally shared blood years prior, something had been growing within him. Now, it seemed, it was transitioning into something new. Something he could tap into without any external aid. A good thing, too, as the great iron content in many parts of the castle tended to unexpectedly disrupt magically-charged devices. As with old Earth tales of iron restraints binding witches, it seemed some truth lay behind the legend.
Internal powers, however, were far less affected.
Charlie wiped the blood from his left arm. A small slice from one of Bawb’s blades. Most men would have been covered in little scars from all of the ‘lessons’ he had been taught, but Charlie had the healing powers of the waters discovered in the Balamar wastelands still strong in his body. The wound was slight and would be healed by nightfall.
While the human suffered minor cuts regularly, the deadly Wampeh was still too fast for him to land a solid hit on. They trained with steel––unenchanted weapons were the order of the day––but Bawb was at no real risk, though his friend was improving rapidly.
In the safety of the remote part of the castle’s dungeons, the pair could train in earnest, sealed off from both prying eyes and attentive ears, the thick stones shielding them from unwanted scrutiny. They even used magic in their sparring without fear of discovery.
The assassin had accepted that he would never see his home––or home galaxy, for that matter––again. It posed him some unique issues. No longer bound by the rules of his own world, he found a strange bit of freedom afforded him. Freedom to break an oath of his sect. The Wampeh Ghalian never shared their deadliest secrets, but here, in this alien galaxy, he had decided that oath held no sway.
As such, Bawb was not only training Charlie in martial combat, but was also teaching him the basics of the deadliest of spells. Assassin spells known only to a handful. Charlie’s nascent ability to cast with his own power was not a threat yet when it came to them––they required a significant amount of magic to be cast, and without a konus or slaap, Charlie could not yet access them. The intent to kill had to be there as well, and the human had remarkable grasp of that elusive element of spell casting.
Even experts could always learn more, however, and it was Ara who had helped Bawb down that path, teaching him to cast without saying the words aloud, relying instead on his internal connection with the spell and his visceral drive behind it. After their dangerous escape from the distant galaxy, and the Council of Twenty’s destruction of the entire planet of Tolemac in their pursuit, she had felt he was worthy of her trust.
For the Wampeh, being taken under the wing of so great and respected a creature as Ara, the Zomoki of legend, known to some as the Wise One, was a dream he never would have allowed himself to believe could come true. He listened intently, studying her every lesson and practicing as he hadn’t since he was a novice.
It was drastically different, her silent casting. He could already cast incredibly quietly, being an assassin, but to do so without so much as a single vocalization was something entirely new, even for him.
“How is Hunze’s training coming along?” Charlie asked, slipping into a clean tunic.
“Quite well, for an Ootaki,” Bawb replied.
The Ootaki were a naturally peaceful people, and it had taken several weeks for Bawb to convince the young woman to learn at least the basics of self-defense. She had acclimated well to the new planet. Being in a galaxy where her hair no longer made her a target for theft or abuse had done wonders for her confidence. Her shell of cautiousness was finally shed, at least every so often.
Being one of the king’s personal retinue also helped. The other servants were kind to her out of necessity at first, but once they got to know her, with her sweet and open demeanor, they soon came to the realization that they would have treated her the same regardless. In short order, Hunze had befriended the majority of the castle’s inhabitants.
Not because she was Charlie’s friend. Not because of her priceless, magic-storing hair. But because of who she was. Charlie just hoped she would never again know the strain of being returned to her former slave life. And with Bawb watching out for her, heaven help any who tried.
Chapter Six
“I hear you showed up the captain today,” Leila said, tearing off a thick chunk of fresh, crunchy-crusted bread, mopping up some sauce from her plate.
Charlie delayed his reply a moment, chewing his food a few extra seconds while trying to decipher whether the olive-skinned woman was actually annoyed, or just curious. While she’d been a very pale green back on Visla Maktan’s world, where she was born and raised as a slave, here, on Earth, the yellow rays had––as Charlie had thought they might––tanned her other worldly skin to a more Mediterranean olive. All the better to fit in with humans, fortunately.
He washed his food down with a liberal drink of wine. Nah, she’s not upset, he decided.
“Bob and I were taking a stroll after a ridiculously long day of hearing requests and complaints from the people.”
“It’s your job, Charlie. You took the crown, after all. Comes with the territory.”
“I know, but if I knew being king was so much work, I would have let Bob do it.”
“That’s a funny thought. Far too public for him. He loves misdirection and a degree of anonymity, you know.”
“That I do.”
“Speaking of our Wampeh friend, I see he and Hunze aren’t joining us tonight,” Leila noted. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, he’s just been taking a little extra time with her to go over some basic defense stuff. He’s kinda super-protective of her.”
“Tell me about it. But it’s sweet. The deadly assassin and his pet,” she said, tossing a chunk of meat to Baloo where he lay quietly at her feet.
“You’ve gotta stop feeding him at the table, Leila.”
“He’s a growing boy.”
“Who could take your hand off if he wanted. He’s getting huge.”
“He’s well-behaved. Aren’t you, Baloo?” she said, scratching him between the ears.
Baloo looked up at his mom lovingly. A sweetheart of an alien wolf-looking creature who was fiercely protective of those he considered his pack. Charlie was glad to fall into that category.
“Still, it’s a bad habit. Which leads me to the next thing. I’ve had some complaints about him killing livestock again.”
“Baloo, what did you do?” she scolded, jokingly.
“Seriously. I’m the king. We can get him his own game to chase around the castle grounds, but he’s gotta stop roaming and taking out farmers’ goats. It makes the locals upset.”
“I know,” she relented. “It’s just he gets that instinctive thing running through him when he’s out in the woods. He’s a born hunter, after all.”
“Which is a problem, sometimes.”
“I know,” she replied. “He listens to me, but sometimes even that isn’t enough to stop him when he’s on the hunt. I’ll try to keep him in check as best I can. Promise.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course. Now, what about your run-in with Captain Sheeran? Did you really manhandle him in front of his men?”
“Only a little. And I let him make a good show of it first. The others I took out pretty fast.”
“Others? Charlie, you know you have to tread carefully. We’re still new here, and you seized the crown. The old king is barely cold, you know. It’s going to take time to be fully accepted.”
“Technically he’s fully-digested by now. I’m sure Ara pooped his bones out weeks ago.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“But accurate. I mean, she did eat him, after all.”
“Fine,” she relented. “But you know what I mean.”
Another little piece of meat made its way to Baloo’s eager mou
th under the table. Leila flashed an amused little grin at her friend.
“You don’t need to worry about the captain, by the way. I visited him after our demonstration. I think the talk went pretty well, all things considered. We’re going to start integrating some more modern training techniques into his regimen.”
“There you go, changing things on the poor fellow after humiliating him in front of his men.”
“I didn’t humiliate him. It was a teaching demonstration. And despite perhaps denting his pride a little, the captain is a warrior. He understood my point about everyone benefitting from new viewpoints. We never stop learning, you know. This is just an opportunity for him to become even better at what he does.”
The serving help brought out a warm bread pudding and placed it on the table before the king and queen.
“Thank you, Daria. It smells delicious,” Leila said, savoring the steam rising from the dish.
The shy woman smiled, curtsied slightly, and hurried back to the kitchen.
“At least the household staff are comfortable with us,” Charlie noted. “I think the previous king wasn’t much of a fan of creative cooking. Our being here gives Thomas a little freedom to try new things.”
“Yes, and Hunze has been watching and learning. It’s all such a novelty for her, a galaxy in which nothing is magic-powered. The concept is so entirely foreign to her. I mean, it is to me, too, but for one raised not only in captivity, but also specifically for the magic she stores, well, it’s got to be quite a head-spinner.”
“And have you felt the ripples from her hair when she lets her emotions free? She’s gotten so much stronger here. One thing for sure, my planet may not possess magic beings, but those from your galaxy seem to greatly benefit from our sun’s rays.”
“Funny to think that the people of this kingdom have never even seen outside these mountains and valleys, let alone other worlds, or systems.”
“To be fair, you never left your world, either before we fled.”
“Yeah, but I knew what was out there. That it was possible. To them it seems an impossibility.”