by Thomas Adams
She would return the dishes to the kitchen now. She didn’t want to stay in the room as Kyrr slept. It felt strange, like she was intruding into something she was not meant to witness. And, she felt as if a third person was in the room with her. It spooked her to no end.
She told the healer on duty she was off and quickly departed for the kitchens. She made a mental reminder to ask Kyrr more about this Yfiria when he was recovered. She needed to find out who she was and what their relationship was.
Chapter 10
The Huntress
Those distant ice caped pavilions,
Home to Gods and Giants
The refuge of the First Men,
The noble Einar
Unknown
***
For a couple days after the attack Kyrr was very weak and did not even leave the bed. He had to use a pot near his cot to relieve himself. It was undignified but the pain was so intense he had no other choice. After the third day he was allowed to stand and walk around the room for a few minutes. He tired quickly and soon collapsed exhausted back into bed. But, by the end of the sennight he was sick of lying in his bed in the healers ward.
He complained and Healer Ronstrum took pity on him and carefully walked him to the archives down the hall. Ronstrum found him a comfortable seat and helped Kyrr find a few scrolls to read. Once Kyrr was situated Ronstrum told Kyrr he would come and fetch him in a few hours. The healer then left. Kyrr sat still for a few minutes until the dizziness and nausea passed and then opened one old scroll and began to read. He soon discovered the scroll was a treatise on Imperium short sword techniques. He was fascinated with the information and techniques outlined in the document and finished the scroll in an hour.
He started the next scroll and soon learned there were many interesting documents in the archives and spent the next three sennights of his recovery going through the martial manuscripts and pieces. He found all kinds of documents and books that discussed forms, techniques, and methods for using various weapons. The amount of knowledge available to those studying at Reave Hall was staggering. Who knew? The Masters had encouraged the students to make use of the archives but few did. There was never time. Kyrr would make time from now on.
For over two hundred years the Guild’s archivists had collected all manner of material on the martial arts. There were treatises on tactics and strategies, books analyzing battles and wars, instruction on siege craft, manuscripts detailing fighting techniques and styles for every conceivable weapon and this information came from all over Ellorhim. Kyrr was amazed with the sheer volume of combat knowledge that was contained in the archives and he spent the majority of his convalesce in the archives soaking up as much of it as he could.
Every day, during his recovery, one of the junior Masters would carefully supervise a limited set of forms and stretches to gauge his recovery. Until the Masters and healers were satisfied that he was fully capable he would not be allowed to rejoin his band and resume the normal training regimen. And, he worked hard every day to rebuild his strength and stamina without tearing open a wound or upsetting the healing process.
He started incorporating many of the new forms and exercises into his recovery regime so he could build new skills even if he was not allowed to train as normal. He also began to make his own notes, sketches and observations on the information he thought the most interesting or had the most potential. He put it all into his own book with his own comments and ideas as well. And, he quickly developed a system that would allow him to easily and effortlessly memorize and retain a large volume of the exercises he wanted to retain and use.
This memorization technique used physical repetition while adding to an ever growing mental catalog of the items he wanted to exploit. It also relied on his growing ability to master his special power. He did not know how his new found power helped his mental abilities but it did. He’d discovered it by accident one day as he added to his mental catalog while unknowingly summoning his power. The key though, was executing the new and old physical forms and steps, while using both a visualization and mental recitation based on symbols and key words.
He continued to document and add to his mental catalog but didn’t share what he was doing with anyone. He wanted to keep it a secret for some reason he could not identify. He knew the use of spells and enchantments, archania was frowned upon. Although he was not sure that was what was really doing. He never felt as if his power was magic in any way. He felt it was more like a form of strengthening his mental process or psyche.
The process required intense focus and repetition to accurately maintain it. Sometimes he would several minutes or more every day just running through the mental catalog and picturing each corresponding physical form or step. Over time, it became easier and required less repetition and mental practice. Until he changed or added new material. Then he started over from scratch. He promised himself he would continue this education and research after he his convalescence was completed. It would be a challenge to find time every day but he thought he could do it while going to sleep each evening.
***
While Kyrr was laid up Fridya had to spend more time with others in Red Band. She quickly realized that she spent a lot of time with Brandt and missed out on a lot of the inter-play with the others in the band. She also talked with some of the other girls and realized Berra was still a big problem and distraction within the group. One day it all came to a head and she had to take matters into her own hands.
As she stormed towards the boys barracks she thought he should have grown out of this by now. There was no excuse for it anymore. Just what was his problem anyhow? She was sick of Bera and his bullying. His latest escapade wasn’t even directed at Kyrr. Kyrr was still recovering in the infirmary. It did involve a younger boy from another group, Blue Band. Bera and his stupid friends tied the young man up and left him outside in the snow.
The boy was with the healers now and would likely loose several toes and fingers due to frostbite. Bera had no shame. Well, now it was time he received some of his own medicine and she was just the one to give it to him. She stormed into the boys’ barracks where Bera and Kyrr lived. Some of the young men were changing, others were horsing around and a few were already in their cots.
The barracks still smelled bad she thought. It’d been awhile since she’d been in the boys’ barracks. It hadn’t gotten any better as far as she could tell. The girls’ barracks was across the yard on the opposite side. She looked around. Most of the young men standing around her would not meet her gaze. Others stared at her in horror and a few scrambled to put clothes back on or dove under their blankets. What a bunch of babies she mused to herself, scared because a girl was looking at them while they undressed.
She spotted Bera and marched up to him. She was carrying a wooden practice sword. All of the talking instantly stopped as the boys saw who she was going after. Every eye and ear was focused on what was coming. Fridya went straight for Bera. He had a surprised look on his face. He was partially undressed. He hurriedly pulled his tunic over his bare chest as she neared.
“That boy you left out in the snow almost died!” she shouted at him. “You want to pick on someone weaker than you? Pick on me!”
She swung and smacked him in the side of the head with the practice sword. He fell onto his cot with an even bigger look of shock and now pain on his face. “Fridya, what are you doing?” Bera sputtered, blood was seeping between the fingers of the hand he’d clasped over his ear.
“What does it look like I am doing Bera? I am bullying you!” and she smacked him on his side with the wooden sword. He hollered in pain.
She continued to holler at him while smacking him with the wooden sword. In loud angry shouts, for all to hear, she wondered how the son of a powerful jarl could be so threatened by younger and smaller boys. After a minute she quit beating Bera but continued with the tongue lashing, “Your childish persecution of Kyrr and all the others will stop Bera. How can you be so threatened by a ‘so call
ed’ commoner like Kyrr? He has no memory of self, family or clan and yet you and your ugly stupid stinky friends torment him mercilessly. What big tough powerful men that makes you all!” she glared around at the other Erlings nearby.
“You act more like a bunch of low life thugs than Erlings. No sense of honor or clan, worse than many commoners I’ve ever dealt with. I’ve seen thieves and crooks, ones my father has dealt with, with more honor than all of you put together. And, I hope you get this through your thick skulls. The bullying will stop! I am making you and your friends my main focus from now on! I am going to watch you and haunt your every step. Let this be your last warning!
“And, just so you know, I could never be attracted or persuaded to court and marry someone that acts like you do Bera. If you canna treat people with even the smallest common decency and courtesy why would I think you could ever treat a woman or your wife any better? No matter their standing, every singlr person in Vesfalruk deserves the respect due to them as human beings. They are not animals. Respect and just treatment, from the Frey, even from the king and my father, is due to all in Vesfalruk and your conduct is demeaning to all Erlings. My father would never treat another like you do, be they commoner or noble.”
She finally ran out of breath. She glared around again at the other Erlings and mockingly gave them a half curtsy, sneered and said, “Good evening my lords!”
When she got back to the door she turned and loudly announced, “If I hear of any additional incidents of harassment or bullying Bera I will come looking for you again. And, next time, you had better arm yourself, for I will not use a wooden blade on you again.”
She left and didn’t bother closing the door behind her. The Erling turned from Bera then. None of them could best Fridya with a sword. None would ever dare. She was untouchable, the daughter of the chancellor. The commoners started laughing and snickering as soon as the young woman left the room. Such a public thrashing and at the hands of a girl!
Most in the band knew that many of the Erling despised Bera’s antics but a few still went along with him all the same. The ones that refused Bera banded together and watched out for each other. Now, since they had joined forces with the commoners, they had the numbers to retaliate on Bera and his friends if need be.
That is likely why Bera was looking for new easier and younger targets to torture and torment. If he could not get at the weaker solitary members of Red Band he would look for other victims. No one checked on Bera’s wounds after Fridya left. Alone, eventually, he rose from his cot and staggered to the healers.
***
After the healers finished with Bera he was told to lie down on one of the cots in the infirmary. He knew Kyrr was just down the hall. He wondered what Fridya saw in him that drew her to him. He lay there, his head throbbing in pain and reflected on what Fridya had said to him. He was totally mortified. He let a girl beat up on him. He should be resentful but what she yelled at him as she beat him really struck home. He never thought about how others would perceive his actions and what they would think of him.
He had believed his behavior was normal. Apparently, the one girl he most wanted to impress in the whole world, thought differently. She obviously thought very poorly of him. This raised the idea that others may also have the same low opinion of him. Bera didn’t like that. He was above almost everyone else in the kingdom. Up to now, he hadn’t really been concerned what others thought of him. But, now he wondered if that was just selfish and childish. He realized he would like others to respect and think decently of him. If his actions prevented that then shouldn’t he rethink how he acted?
He’d learned how to be an Erling from his older brother and his father. He bossed around and denigrated the lower class people on his family’s lands and the ones he encountered elsewhere. He’d bullied and beat up those he disliked. That was how his father and brother acted and he followed in their footsteps. Apparently it was not acceptable behavior to some people. Being an Erling was supposed to mean you were better than everyone else. But, what if it didn’t? What if it meant the lesser folk just tolerated you until they could do something about it? What if it meant what Fridya told him before, that he was supposed to be a protector and benefactor to those he ruled.
As he thought more about his behavior he realized his mother and uncle didn’t act the way his father and brother did. Neither did his younger brother or his sisters. They were always, at least initially, kind to strangers and guests, polite to the servants, freemen and peasants and charitable to those that needed help. Maybe his behavior was a liability. Perhaps it was time to rethink his attitude and how he treated people.
He wondered if he could change and try to be different. He vowed to himself to try and be better and more respectful to everyone and not just his Erling friends and the jarls he came into contact with. Possibly, if he treated people how he wanted to be treated they would reciprocate. Maybe he could change and win the favor of the Chancellor’s daughter?
***
The day Erika at Reave Hall arrived was cold and blustery. It had snowed the night before. Everything was blanketed with several inches of heavy wet snow. As she entered the High Fort she saw the Masters already had student crews out clearing the snow from the practice yard and walkways. She smiled, she knew Ivar and at Reave Hall, nothing as mundane as snow would ever halt training. Adverse weather only presented new training opportunities.
Erika rode her shaggy mountain horse up to the stable door and dismounted. She had another beast of the same sort on a lead rope and used it as a pack animal. She pulled her weapons, a couple bags and a large pack off the horses and set them near the walkway that housed the Masters’ rooms. She then whistled for one of the stable boys to come get her animals.
After she was sure her horses were taken care of she went to find Grand Master Ivar. She had not seen Ivar in over five years. Ivar had trained her in the sword when she was a student long ago at Toreu Hall. She’d tried to keep in touch but her official duties as chief scout for the northern borders kept her very busy. She was also the best Narasist hunter in Vesfal.
Fifteen minutes later they were both sitting in the empty dining hall drinking steaming cups of a brew called gaavee. It was a bold dark brew made from beans found far to the south of Vesfalruk and imported at no small cost. It was usually drunk in the fall and winter.
As they sipped the hot drink Master Ivar was explaining why she had been summoned. At first Erika was skeptical but as Ivar went through the entire story she was eventually convinced. She was still put off about being asked to come to Reave Hall to babysit an Erling. Even if the Erling was supposed to be Brandt’s line returned.
She said to Ivar, “It seems like a waste of my talents and time but I will give it a few sennights and see what happens. If the boy is truly Brandt’s heir I imagine he will need protection of some kind but maybe something more traditional?”
Ivar frowned at her comments but remained silent for now. Was she underestimating the threat? There had already been one attack by a Narasist. She added, “Restoring the line in Vesfalruk is something I honestly never thought would ever happen. I canna sit here and say I understand the political situation or the process for such a thing.” She paused and reflected. It would be a good thing if happened and if the boy became a good leader. She knew the Emoire and Osterider would not want it to happen and would try to prevent it.
Ivar said, “I want you to make sure the boy comes to no harm. I realize you may have doubts now. What can I do to convince you otherwise?”
“I am just now thinking through some things. This is all way above my level but I think the Erhand will take drastic steps to prevent a king from the line of Brandt sitting the throne. That reason alone is a good enough reason for me to support this, for now.
“You know me and my background. My parents were murdered by Narasists. I hate the Imperium and what it represents. I have spent all of my adult life on the shadowy front lines, battling their influence and meddling ways. I want
to ensure their long reach is blunted and their influence is kept out of Vesfalruk.”
Ivar said, “Your hatred of the Imperium’s assassins is well known and you are a Guild legend at tracking and killing them. But, many Frey and wealthy merchants will resist the return of a king.”
He added, “It will not matter if the boy is proved legitimate or not. The jarls would see it as a threat to their power and wealth and would move to prevent it.”
She thought this true and perhaps a more likely explanation. Ivar and Erika discussed various plans and the boy’s schedule and she asked a lot of questions about the suspected Narasist and the attack. She’d fought them several times and had won out each time. They were deadly fighters though. Every encounter with them was a close thing. She bore the scars to prove it. Narasists were more like street fighters than warriors. They were ruthless assassins and preferred the shadows and surprise versus a head on attack. They did not fight fair. They followed no rules. A Narasist always fought to win and to kill the target.
That a young boy of unknown background, apparently no one knew his real age, had beat a Narasist in a one on one knife fight amazed her. After they finished talking Ivar suggested they go meet the boy. When they walked into the infirmary she knew immediately who he was. Every hall had pretty much the same statue of their famous founder tucked away somewhere on the grounds. She’d seen that statue almost every day at Toreu Hall for seven years. The similarity was unmistakable. He was Brandt’s heir.
***
Titan raged, “What are they doing up there? How hard can it be to find this mountain goat of a prince and kill him?”
Lutvar said soothingly, “We received a report that an attempt was recently made and it failed. The boy is at Reave Hall, he is a student there. The sword is likely there as well. Our man working that portion of the kingdom simply stumbled into it. It was not a secret plot or general knowledge because no one knew who he was. Not even the boy! No one realizes he is the one!”