To Forge a King- the Chronicles of Ellorhim

by Thomas Adams

  Kyrr’s quiet rectitude and uncomplaining manner was noted by the Masters. Masters Grovan, Ivar and Randur discussed it. Grovan said, “We know it goes on. None of the Masters are stupid and this type of behavior is frequent in all the bands. It is just another form of training.”

  Ivar replied, “We do not promote or encourage such behavior and we step in when it gets out of hand. Usually, a band adjusts and an eventual resolution is reached by the students. After all, this is how military units function in real life. There is no band mother following the soldiers around making sure everyone gets a fair shake.

  “However, the other members of Red Band see how Kyrr handles the adverse situations and I can tell many are impressed by his forbearance, his ability to handle the stress and his longsuffering attitude. His stock only goes up in their eyes. Their spoken and unspoken sympathy goes a long way in helping the entire band cope. And, many new friendships will take root were before he had always been the outcast.”

  Randur added, “As a result of this persecution and his reaction to it, Kyrr’s ability as a leader has risen in the eyes of the Masters and the other students in Red Band. And, when Kyrr was given the chance to be a leader in Red Band he did not retaliate or dole out extra duties or unfair assignments to his antagonists. He was fair and even handed regardless of who he dealt with.”

  All in all the masters noted this and gave Kyrr the appropriate marks for his leadership ability.

  ***

  It was also around this time that Fridya started noticing Kyrr more as an interesting young man and less as a friend. She thought he was very handsome. She realized she was too young to be thinking of a boy like she thought of Kyrr but she was a realist after all. Some Erling young women and men were already engaged or even married at the age Kyrr and she was now. So, it was not all that unusual. These practices of the Frey were ingrained in the kingdom’s culture and social fabric and had been for an age or more.

  She well knew what a relationship between a man and woman was about. There was the main reason, making children but there would also hopefully be love, respect, safety and friendship. She knew its root purpose though and heartily applauded and approved such a function. At court she’d heard the other young ladies’ giddy talk, usually in awed voices, of the deed’s pleasure and joy. There was purpose and power in such unions. She herself was in no rush but some day she knew she would find a handsome strapping warrior that was also kind and loved her. She would rejoice on that day. More and more she hoped it would be Kyrr.

  Kyrr was a frequent topic in her correspondence with her father. Kyrr’s suspected parentage and future role in Vesfalruk were clearly outlined by her father. The tone her father took in these letters was very encouraging. He expected her to get close to the boy and win his confidence. He also hinted that a future match with the lad would be beneficial for Vesfalruk and the Aritun clan. Such subtle direction, from her father, was embarrassing, flustering and yet, flattering. She felt like a sneak and a spy though. She frequently wondered if she should just come clean with Kyrr and tell him what was really going on and how she felt.

  ***

  Kyrr walked across the practice yard. He stank of smoke, sweat and metal and was worn out. It was dark and the moon was not out yet. A few torches lit the bailey of the High Fort and he tiredly trudged towards his barracks. He was coming back from the smithy and it was later than usual. Guards patrolled the walls and towers but all was quiet. All the students were probably asleep, exhausted in their beds.

  Earlier at the forge, Master Smith Birger had shown him a complicated forging technique, fusing two pieces of metal together. The lesson had taken longer than normal. Kyrr struggled to perform the welding technique. Then he’d stayed and helped Birger cleanup and get the pieces for tomorrow ready. He was beyond exhausted.

  He entered the covered colonnaded walkway that ran along the east wall. This walkway had doors that opened into many of the barracks the Guild used for its pupils. The walkway was very dark and Kyrr had trouble seeing even the doors. For some reason, tonight, no one had lit the lanterns along the corridor. Maybe they had forgotten.

  Suddenly he sensed something in the darkness ahead, near where his barrack’s door was situated. There was a whisper or tingling in his mind that something was not right. He’d felt it before, usually when Bera was up to something. It was much stronger now, like a prickling in his mind that could not be ignored. He needed to heed this warning. He slowed his forward motion. His hands slid to his knives.

  There was something, a presence filled with hate and darkness just ahead. He pushed his awareness out and sensed the person and felt their malevolent intent. He knew this situation was very dangerous and it was not like the other times. He shuddered and took a deep breath. The tingling throughout his body intensified. It was unsettling yet comforting to be forewarned. His pace slowed further and he pondered the situation. What should he do? Should he turn around or raise the alarm? Shout for help? What exactly was up there? Was it waiting for him? Why? He was certain it was something bad.

  Then it was too late. He felt the presence turn towards him. Its will was focused on him now. It knew he was there. His mind froze. It was moving towards him rapidly, a darkness of blind raging fury. He took a deep breath and struggled against the grasp on his mind. It freed. He had time to loosen pull dagger and knife from their sheaths, wishing he had a sword instead. He was good with sword or dagger but the extra reach of a sword would have been welcome against an unknown and unseen foe. It was time to start carrying a real sword everywhere he went.

  Suddenly, ten paces ahead, a large man stepped from the shadows. He was not as tall as the tallest of men but he was wide and powerfully built. He was dressed in dark clothes and blended in with the shadows. The man strode quickly and silently towards Kyrr down the hall. Light glimmered off a short wickedly curved knife blade in each of the man’s hands.

  Kyrr shouted for help and assumed a basic defensive stance. The mysterious man closed the distance in a heartbeat and Kyrr could saw his face twisted into a visage of hate and fury. This man was a killer. The ill intent was palpable to Kyrr; the dark assailant was going to kill him.

  Kyrr steeled himself for the other man’s attack. He realized someone was going to die here tonight. The anger and rage swiftly built in his mind and his vision tunneled and darkness threatened to wash his mind away. He fought it. It took only seconds for the man to reach Kyrr and lash out with a ferocious yet silent attack. There was no yelling or talking just a swift and brutal assault that pushed Kyrr to his limits in an instant.

  The man was very skilled and very fast. He was likely a Master of the Knife. Kyrr had never seen his like before and was barely able to block most of the attacks. As it was, he was soon nicked and cut in a few places. But, Kyrr did not allow a serious maiming or killing blow through his defenses. He reached deep within him to summon reserves of strength and speed and to continue to match the man’s pace.

  He knew there was some special energy or power within himself. He’d felt it previously but it was difficult and painful to use this power. And, the unreasonable anger that built upon it was a danger he was unsure how to control. He instinctively knew he could not let the rage and blackness take over. He didn’t understand it or know how to bend it to his will but he tried harder than ever before. He wanted to live. This time the attempt was worse than usual. There was a resistance and a terrible pain spread through his mind and body. It felt as if a tremendous weight or pressure suddenly was placed upon him. His defense faltered and the man took advantage and cut him pretty good on the upper arm.

  The first time Kyrr had used this power he felt none of this pain or resistance. It just happened all on its own. Now though, he struggled to push through the resistance. He knew he must do it to survive. His assailant would not stop until Kyrr was dead. Kyrr could not hope to match the man without help. He fought the man in front of him while simultaneously he fought his mind and his body. He focused his will and pushed
hard. The pain was overwhelming. The resistance was great. The tremendous pressure threatened to overwhelm him. He felt as if he would succumb and falter and suddenly, something broke free and he came through.

  Words suddenly echoed in his mind, ‘See what you can do.’ Who had spoken them to him? Who had believed in him? The attacker, no he was as silent as the grave. It was the girl with the sea green eyes. Kyrr could never let her down. His will won through. He was resolved. His mind relaxed and power flowed into him. He drew deeply on it. Hopefully, in the future, it would not be such a struggle if he tried to use this power again. It took so long. He was cut now in half a dozen places and his blood was freely running from several wounds.

  He willed his body to additional speed and strength and matched his attacker’s speed. Even though both attacker and defender were silent a guard must have heard his shout or seen the fight. A shout of alarm was raised from the other side of the courtyard. More shouts followed and the sounds of pounding feet and steel on steel could be heard. But Kyrr knew the guards, now charging to his aide, would not likely arrive in time to help him.

  He was still struggling. Fear, his wounds and the man’s oppressive essence pressed against him. But, his defense strengthened as this new power responded to his call and spread into his chest and limbs. He was not totally overwhelmed. His confidence grew. His defense was holding and his training and conditioning were helping. He was not even winded and was able to draw upon more reserves. Kyrr relaxed and began to remember his training, he knew a few knife forms that would allow him to defend and transition to attacks more quickly.

  He employed one such defensive move that employed a series of glancing deflections and switched in a split second to several quick stabbing attacks. His technique caught his foe off guard and he scored a strike on the other man’s thigh. He moved to more complex random forms and increased his speed. In the gloom he saw his foe’s eyes widen imperceptibly.

  The initiative was swinging to Kyrr’s side now. The quick staccato pounding of boots on flagstones was growing louder. His attacker was almost out of time and he grinned evilly and launched a renewed flurry of attacks at Kyrr. Kyrr countered and lashed out with his mind against the oppressive wave of fear, malice and hate from the dark assailant. The man staggered back a step or two.

  Kyrr repeated the mental attack on the other man’s will with more strength as he spun into a low leg sweep and mid knife attack. The man stepped over the leg sweep and into the middle knife trust. Kyrr’s dagger landed a deep slash on the man’s belly. His attacker was stunned and faltered. His hand reached to his gut and he dropped one of is blades to the floor. It rang clear as a bell on the granite floor. Kyrr started another lightning quick series of attacks that concluded with in his long dagger buried to the hilt in the man’s chest. The man slowly sunk to the ground as guards swarmed around them. He had won. He would live.

  Kyrr was dizzy. He’d lost a lot of blood and the use of this new ability must have totally drained him. He staggered and grabbed for a wall. He saw guards rushing toward him and he thought he saw Master Ivar among those coming towards him. His consciousness slipped and for a moment, a pale lovely face and a pair of sea green eyes floated in his mind’s eye. Tears streaked her cheeks. Fear blanketed her beautiful features; then a faint smile, joyous yet sad spread over her countenance. It was the last memory he had, blackness sped towards him. Kyrr welcomed it. The blackness engulfed him.

  ***

  Ivar rushed up to scene of the altercation not knowing what to expect. Students going at it with knives in the dark? It had happened in the past. Sometimes tempers and egos won out. Then, he saw Kyrr with bloody knives in each hand. Kyrr was apparently involved but wounded and he looked like he was about to pass out. Then, he did. He slumped over but a guard grabbed him and slid him to the stone floor. Ivar shook his head. He noted the scene. There was blood everywhere and a man Ivar did not recognize lying on the floor next to Kyrr.

  He told one of the guards he recognized, “Graf, check the man.” Ivar bent over and grabbed the man’s knives. He’d seen this style of blade before.

  Graf said, “He is dead. Did that boy do this?”

  Ivar shrugged, “I assume so Graf. I do not see anyone else around.”

  Ivar knelt and studied the strange man Kyrr had apparently slain. He quickly recognized the Narasist for what he was, an Emoire assassin. He moved and checked Kyrr. The lad was fading fast. He had lost a lot of blood from his wounds. Master Ivar ripped up his tunic and quickly bound the worst wounds and told two guards to carry the boy with all possible haste to the healers. As they lifted Kyrr he ordered them, “Stay with the boy until I personally relieve you.”

  This would not do at all. He turned back to Graf and said, “Graf, notify the watch commander. Tell him, by my command, to raise full alarm, deploy the garrison and lock down the fortress. Have him see me in the healers hall for additional instructions.” Ivar turned and followed the guardsmen carrying Kyrr.

  ***

  She awoke to a sudden jolt of pain. Pain spread across her stomach and sides. Despair and blackness followed. It engulfed her completely and seemed to last forever, slowly, it faded. She felt alone, completely and utterly alone. As if not one person, in the entire world, cared what became of him or would miss him. Him? What was this? Was this a seering? Was it Brandt? Had a connection been suddenly opened? Was she feeling what he felt? Then she remembered. It had felt like a dream, no a nightmare. A bloody fight but he had won. He was alive, wasn’t he?

  It was unbearable, such pain and anguish. The mind and body ached but the darkness was soothing. It welcomed him and promised sweet relief, freedom from pain and loneliness. It promised oblivion. She could feel him embrace it. She screamed at him to stop, to resist it. The scream seemed to stretch on and on. Nothing mattered but making him stop, he could not follow that path. She fought and struggled, her mind twisting and straining to break through and reach him.

  He had to fight, to resist it and she knew she could convince him if she could just reach him. She called on the archania with all her will and might and channeled it like never before. She had never tried this before. She was not sure what would happen. It was dangerous to try something like this. But she pushed hard and struggled mightily. She reached deep into the recesses of her will and power and found even more strength. Her feelings were helping to drive her harder than ever before.

  She focused on sending him an image of them in the garden kissing and one word, hope. She sent what she had felt at that moment, their joy and happiness and their hope of what would someday come. He had to feel the hope and want to go on. She would go to him soon, be his friend, his family and his lover. She would be everything he needed her to be. She would be his life, if only he would hold on and hope for them, for their future.

  ***

  Kyrr woke in an unfamiliar dark room. His body ached. He was dreaming again of someone important. He felt someone watching him, someone that knew him and was his friend. Someone concerned about his well-being. Her face and her sparkling blue green eyes faded from his consciousness, he tried in vain to focus on her name. To remember who she was. Why did she haunt his dreams? Why couldn’t he remember her?

  He was awake now he realized. The dream was gone along with all trace of the girl. Kyrr glanced around the tiny room. There was a lamp pushing feebly against the darkness. He lay in a small bed. The room was warm and clean and smelled of medicine and blood. There were several bloody bandages stuck on his body, one on his left thigh, several on his torso and a few on his left and right arms.

  He remembered the fight. The image of the assassin’s face leapt into his mind. The raw anger and spite that shone from the man’s eyes would be with Kyrr forever. He remembered the power he had fought for and then used against the assailant. He wondered about this ability that had saved him. What was it? Could he use it again? Why did it only manifest when there seemed to be danger? And, why did it take so long and was so difficult to summon and contr
ol? Perhaps with practice it would get easier.

  There was a small table with healing items spread on it and a crude chair in a corner. There was no one in the room but Kyrr felt like someone was still watching him. He felt like whoever was watching him was someone he knew and could trust, a friend. It seemed as if a dear cherished acquaintance was checking up on him and that comforted him immensely. The door to the room eased open and Fridya entered caring a small tray with some steaming broth and a pitcher.

  She looked tired and concern was clearly written on her face. She smiled at him when she saw he was awake. She set the tray on the table and began to arrange his meal. The feeling of being watched faded as Fridya busied herself with propping him up, pouring a small stone cup of water for him and then spoon feeding him the delicious broth. His arms ached terribly and he doubted he could even hold the bowl and spoon. Fridya said, “You had me worried Kyrr. I have never seen so much blood. I thought you dead when I first saw you.”

  Kyrr nodded weakly. A full belly and some sips of water were tugging his weary mind back into the slumber of the injured and exhausted. Fridya must have understood because she just whispered, “Get some more sleep. Rest Kyrr. We can talk later.”

  Kyrr did. In seconds he was pulled back into his dreams.

  ***

  As she watched him drop off to sleep Fridya wondered who Yfiria was and why she was so prominent in his dreams. She could clearly see this Yfiria was special to Kyrr. She shivered and made the sign against evil and then gathered the remains of the meal. She placed everything back on the tray.