The Apprentice In The Master’s Shadow

by Ian Gregoire

  Success!

  Kayden knew from the expression on Drazanik’s face that her words had just wounded his pride. Clearly, he was one of those men he didn’t appreciate having his manhood called into question.

  “I think you talk too much,” he sneered. “And I needn’t worry about my follow through. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a year.”

  He darted forward, initiating hostilities again. Kayden swayed this way and that, dancing across the ground, keeping out of range of the swinging blade. If she didn’t know better she would think he had abandoned the idea of not killing her. But he was just rattled. She almost had him where she wanted him. The delay in her trip to Azderan would come to an end shortly.

  Moments later, an opportunity presented itself when she ducked beneath a wild swing, dropping down to execute a low spinning kick to sweep Drazanik’s legs out from under him, bringing him crashing down onto the muddy ground. Her felled adversary scurried to retrieve his sword, but she stamped harshly on the back of his hand, preventing him from doing so. His strangled grunt was followed by a kick to his side, causing him to roll over onto his back.

  “Uh, uh, uh!” said Kayden in a mocking tone. “I didn’t say you could pick that up, did I?”

  Looking genuinely fearful for the first time, the bandit ringleader scrambled backwards to put some distance between himself and Kayden. She held her ground and allowed him to warily get back up to his feet. His humiliation wasn’t quite over yet.

  “This is hardly a fair fight if you don’t permit me to use my sword,” said Drazanik, his eyes darting back and forth between Kayden and his fallen blade. He was clearly worried now about his fate.

  Kayden stared pointedly at her opponent. She wanted him to remember this moment for the rest of his days. With nonchalant ease she twirled her sword swiftly in her grasp before throwing it down, blade first into the muddy ground at her feet. “Now it’s a fair fight,” she uttered dispassionately, advancing slowly towards him.

  Sizing up her adversary as he clenched both fists preparing to meet her, Kayden was unconcerned about his weight and two-inch height advantage. She was going to put Drazanik down too quickly for him to capitalise on either. In an instant she darted forward, launching into a flying kick that forced him to back-pedal. She landed sure-footedly then let loose a flurry of kicks and punches he was too slow to counter effectively. He began flailing wildly with his arms trying to keep her at bay, but her kicks and rapid combination punches effortlessly found their target. The fight was brought to an end when Kayden swept Drazanik’s legs out from under him again. This time she had no intention of letting him get back to his feet. As he tried to scramble back up onto his feet, Kayden kicked him square in the face, causing Drazanik to roll over onto his back clutching both hands to his nose and mouth. Once she was certain all the fight had been knocked out of him, Kayden casually strolled back to her sword, still protruding from the ground, and retrieved it.

  “Oh, you stupid… fucking… whore!”

  Glancing back over her shoulder, Kayden saw Drazanik sitting up, glaring at her with fury, and blood streaming from his nose and mouth.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done!” His tone almost seemed to be taunting. “You have no idea who you are messing with. If you thought the prospect of keeping my bed warm for a few weeks was bad, just you wait. It would have been a mercy compared to what’s in store for you now.”

  Kayden stomped purposefully towards her foul-mouthed adversary. She stopped in front of him and used her right foot to force him back down on the muddy ground. “Against my better judgement, not only am I going to let you live,” she said, holding the tip of her sword over his groin, “I’m also going to let you keep your brain.” She used the flat of her blade to pat him between his legs. “But if you call me a whore again… I might change my mind.”

  To her surprise, Drazanik began to laugh, sputtering blood from his mouth. “As you wish, I won’t call you a whore,” he said, sounding unfeasibly amused once he stopped laughing. “What you are is a dead woman walking. This entire province is the domain Baranzev Kazdaranian; not even government officials can pass through here without paying tribute. If you think he will take kindly to having a slant-eyed, Vaidasovian whore gallivanting through his territory, assaulting his men and refusing to pay tribute…” He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “You are in for a rude awakening.”

  Moving the tip of her blade to Drazanik’s throat, Kayden pressed hard enough to draw a little blood. “There’s that word again,” she muttered. “Plus a slur about my heritage. I’ve never killed a real person before but I’m more than a little tempted right now.”

  “So what? Do it!” the prone man taunted. “I assure you it’s nothing compared to what will happen to you. By the time Kazdaranian has finished passing you among all his men you won’t be able to walk for a decade.” He chortled. “Heck, your insides will probably fall out from between your legs.”

  In a swift flourish of movement Kayden thrust down her sword, plunging it deep into the mud by the side of Drazanik’s head as she sank to one knee. “I will be spending the night in Azderan. If this Kazdaranian fellow has an issue with me gallivanting around his territory, refusing to pay tribute, and wiping the floor with his worthless, good-for-nothing men, he is more than welcome to visit me there to discuss the matter.” She rose swiftly, pulling her blade out of the mud to stand upright. Without another word for her defeated enemy she turned on her heels and began marching towards her horse.

  The six other bandits she had beaten up beforehand were standing in a line between her and the black gelding. It was clear from their demeanour they were more than happy to let her depart unmolested. She approached them, unconcerned, and they parted to allow her through, giving her a wide berth.

  Reaching her mount, Kayden stroked Onyx’s nose then turned around to see the positions of the bandits. All of them—bar Tarnat, who was staring vacantly at her—had gathered around Drazanik to give him a helping hand, which he didn’t seem to appreciate. “Hey! You!” she called out, pointing at the bearded bandit.

  He looked to his left then to his right before placing a finger against is chest as if to say ‘who, me?’

  “Yes, you,” she called. “Come here… now!”

  With apprehension written all over his countenance, the portly bandit ambled towards her, holding the back of his leg.

  “Come along! I don’t have all evening.”

  He hurried the rest of the way and stopped in front of her. It was hard for Kayden not look down on him, and not just because she had four inches on him in height. He was cowering before her as though fearing a slap. She hated cowardice and couldn’t respect anyone guilty of it. He flinched as she raised her blade and laid it upon his shoulder, wiping off the mud and blood it had acquired. Once she was satisfied her sword was clean again she sheathed it into the scabbard strapped behind her right shoulder.

  Kayden pulled the hood of her cloak over her head then swiftly remounted her horse. Digging her heels gently into his flanks, she urged Onyx forward at a trot. The motley group of bandits stepped aside to let her pass, but she tugged on her reins to bring her horse to a halt as she came alongside them. Glaring down at the bloodied and muddied ringleader, Kayden decided to issue a warning before departing.

  “For the record,” she intoned, “when you see Kazdaranian, tell him I strongly advise against coming after me in Azderan. You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of.” She didn’t actually believe that this so-called Baranzev Kazdaranian was a real person. The idea that these witless reprobates who had tried in vain to rob her, and goodness knows what else, were part of a larger group that had seized control of an entire province, making it a no-go area for government officials was laughable. But there was no harm in letting Drazanik know it would be stupid of him to come after her, looking for revenge.

  She urged Onyx into a canter down the muddy trail, leaving the motley group of bandits behi
nd to lick their wounds.

  Kayden arrived at the outskirts of Azderan earlier than she anticipated, pleased to have reached her destination without further incident. After the recent excitement, she was eager to find lodgings for her brief, overnight stay, have a bite to eat, and have quiet night’s rest before resuming her journey the next morning.

  As her black beauty trotted sedately into town, she was surprised at just how quiet and deserted Azderan appeared to be. It was all the more surprising once she noted how her assumption that the place would be a small, insignificant outpost was incorrect. Azderan was a sizeable town that should have had a population to match, but she saw so few people to support the assertion. While it was entirely possible most of the townsfolk were huddled indoors because of the poor weather, somehow Kayden doubted this explained the lack of activity on the streets. Riding further into town, she attracted wary glances from the handful of men she saw walking about, all of whom seemed to be heading in the same direction. It made her acutely aware of an unmistakeable tension in the air. It was as though the whole town was holding its breath, waiting for trouble to arrive.

  Keeping her eyes peeled for sign of an inn, Kayden considered asking for directions but the manner in which the few people she encountered shied away from her implied she’d have a hard time finding someone prepared to help. She finally spotted what she was looking for when her eyes were drawn to a large, two storey building. Several men were gathered outside, loitering around the entrance as they drank from tankards while engaging in conversation. A quick glance at the sign above the entrance told Kayden the establishment was called the White Stag Inn, and the ‘vacancies’ sign was still on display. She set a course for the building, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes upon her as every man gathered outside looked in her direction. It was easy to discern that the inn was an important focal point for the local community. Firelight blazed from all the windows, and the sounds drifting out into the evening air spoke of the hustle and bustle within.

  With all eyes upon her, Kayden brought Onyx to a halt in front of the establishment then slowly dismounted. Holding the reins in one hand, she pulled the hood of her cloak back prompting a chorus of intakes of breath. She wasn’t sure if the reaction was on account of the townsfolk never having seen someone of Vaidasovian descent before, or if they were just relieved she wasn’t someone else. Peering up at the gloomy, overcast sky, she deduced sunset was at least an hour away. It was obviously the right decision not attempting to reach Nagornorak before nightfall.

  One of the onlookers, a tallish young man of slender physique, stepped forward. He looked somewhat puzzled when he asked, “Will you be wanting your mount stabled for the night?” The timbre of his voice was completely at odds with his young face, Kayden noted. But it was the manner in which he asked the question she found most odd. It was almost as if a foreign traveller needing lodging for herself and her horse was something strange.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied in her best Anzarmenian. The mystified glances exchanged by several of the men standing idly nearby didn’t escape her notice. “Will you accept coin from the Nine Kingdoms?” Her hand slipped beneath her black tabard, reaching for her money pouch.

  “Oh, yes!” he blurted “I mean… if that’s all you have, it will just have to do.” He stepped closer with a hand outstretched, offering to take hold of the reins of Kayden’s horse. His obvious excitement at receiving currency from the Nine Kingdoms instantly did away with the concern he had shared in common with the other men gathered around only moments earlier. “My name’s Tasarik. This is my father’s inn. How long were you planning on staying in town?”

  “Just a night.” Kayden handed over the reins. “I will be leaving first thing in the morning.” She tugged the strings of her purse. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I ask that he be thoroughly groomed and have the mud washed off him.” Slipping her fingers into the purse, she added, “And if he can be watered and fed the best feed you can provide, that would be most appreciated.”

  Eyeing her purse with intent, Tasarik replied, “Certainly. Stabling will be five gold ranids, the grooming will be two gold ranids, and the feed will be three gold ranids.”

  With a sigh, Kayden withdrew her fingers from her money pouch; she was empty-handed. “Tasarik, is it?” she intoned, looking up at the slightly taller man. “I may be from out of town, but I wasn’t born yesterday… Don’t push your luck.”

  The young man looked taken aback by the less than subtle threat, though he quickly regained his composure. “But, as you are the first visitor of the day, you get it all for the special low price of… two gold ranids?”

  A half-smile curled Kayden’s lips. It was all she could do not to laugh at the high-pitched tone of voice in which the final three words were uttered. Somehow it sounded much more in keeping with the young man’s baby-faced appearance. “That sounds very reasonable, thank you.” She took two coins from her purse and handed them to Tasarik who quickly pocketed them with a glint in his eyes.

  Kayden took a moment to remove her burlap sacks before permitting him to lead the black gelding towards the open archway leading to the stables. Holding her ground, she watched and waited for man and beast to disappear from view. Only then did she approach the entrance to the inn, doing her best to ignore the indecipherable looks on the faces of the men gathered outside. She pushed the door open, and was greeted by a breath of warm air carrying the scent of delicious hot food. As she crossed the threshold into the busy saloon, closing the door behind herself, all conversations halted abruptly.

  That’s right folks, a Vaidasovian woman has entered the building, thought Kayden to herself.

  She caught sight of a tall, rotund man with a beard reaching halfway down his chest stepping out from behind the serving counter dominating the left-hand side of the saloon, to march purposefully towards her. Presumably he was the innkeeper, coming to give her a much warmer welcome than she received from the men gathered outside. She ambled forward to meet him.

  “Good evening, miss,” the middle-aged man greeted her with a nervous smile. “My name is Varik. I will have to ask you to hand over your weapons if you wish to enter my establishment.”

  Narrowing her eyes at the innkeeper, Kayden silently waited for an explanation.

  “Armed strangers make the locals nervous,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

  Remembering the unmistakeable tension she had felt while riding into town, Kayden quickly cast her gaze around the crowded saloon. The tension was still palpable, but only now did the expressions on the faces of those staring at her really register. Whatever issue the townsfolk had with her, it certainly wasn’t that they feared her. But they were concerned by her presence—that much was obvious.

  “I trust my weapons will be returned to me when I leave in the morning?” she said, dropping her burlap sacks to the floor at her feet.

  “You want a room for the night?”

  The note of surprise in the innkeeper’s voice was one thing, but it was the stark look of concern in his eyes that perturbed Kayden. If she didn’t know better she would swear it was sympathy. “Perhaps you’re in the wrong line of business if you find it so unusual for a traveller to want lodging for the night.” She didn’t mean to sound quite so sarcastic. “Unless, of course, it’s having a traveller who looks like me that you have a problem with…?” Narrowing her eyes at him again, she added pointedly, “Do you have a problem with putting me up for the night?”

  “No! No problem at all.”

  Despite the hurried reassurance, it was clear there was an issue, though Kayden was at a loss to say for certain what it might be. Nonetheless, she accepted the innkeeper at his word, promptly handing over the two daggers she wore on either hip, then unstrapping her baldric to remove the sword that hung on her back. The gesture brought about the resumption of stalled conversations, and suddenly Kayden was no longer the centre of attention.

  “Dashina!” bellowed the innkeeper, his booming v
oice startling Kayden. “I will store your weapons away for safekeeping. While I’m taking care of that my wife can take you upstairs to your room.”

  The innkeeper departed, taking her weapons with him, and Kayden watched him head in the direction of a closed door beside the serving counter. As he drew near, the door opened and out stepped a chubby, middle-aged woman with ruddy cheeks, and dark hair pulled back tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck. She and the innkeeper stopped in front of each other to exchange words.

  Although Kayden couldn’t hear what was said between the couple, once Varik pointed in her direction—bringing her to the attention of his wife—it quickly became apparent that Dashina wasn’t happy about something. There was a brief but heated exchange as she remonstrated with her other half, for reasons Kayden could only guess at. Eventually, the innkeeper appeared to win the argument. He stepped away, heading for the door his wife had emerged from moments earlier, while she was left to trudge towards Kayden, looking resigned.

  Bending down to pick up her burlap sacks, Kayden waited for Dashina to greet her.

  “Follow me, sweetheart,” the woman said abruptly. She wasted no time heading for the nearby staircase.

  Trailing in the woman’s wake as she waddled up the stairs, Kayden noted the streaks of grey in her dark hair. Upon reaching the next floor up she silently followed Dashina’s lead through a corridor brightly by several lit lamps in wall sconces, all the while wondering what the woman’s problem was. When Dashina halted outside the door of the room furthest from the stairway, she turned to address Kayden.

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for a young woman to travel alone through this province?” she said, sounding aggravated. “Especially for one looking the way you do. Someone should have warned you.”

  What’s that supposed to mean? thought Kayden. “I’m a dangerous woman,” she quipped, trying hard not to allow the woman’s attitude get to her.