by Sandell Wall
Not wanting to talk about her mother, she directed Brax back to the runes. “It seems like just a few Guardsmen with armor like yours could defeat an entire army. Why don’t we all have runes that give us godlike swiftness?”
“Because the runestones needed to power them are extremely rare. That, and they take a great deal of training and ability to use effectively.”
He looked into the distance over her shoulder and frowned. The wooden clack of practice swords rang out behind her. She turned to investigate the sound and saw that Dranzen and a group of young Lomish warriors had formed a practice circle between them and the camp.
“Blast,” Brax said. “I got distracted and didn't realize they were there.” He turned to look around them, assessing their options. They had moved away from the large Legion camp to train on a nearby hilltop.
A little perplexed, Aventine said, “Why have we been trying so hard to avoid them the past few days? You seriously think he would challenge you?”
He shook his head. “It’s not me he wants, it’s you.”
“Me? Why?” She tried not to sound as shocked as she felt.
“Because he’s too much of a coward to challenge me, but he thinks he can beat you. And he needs to do something to soothe his bruised ego after what I did to him in the courtyard.”
Brax grabbed his sword and turned to walk down the side of the hill facing away from the camp. “Come, we can take the long way around. It’s a nice evening for a walk, anyway.”
She made no move to follow him as he walked away. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was standing still, watching him go. The look of grim determination on her face made him pause. “Aventine, no.”
“I don’t avoid challenges, Brax. I was raised to meet them head-on. I didn’t become a member of the Guard to slink away from everyone who dislikes us.”
He turned to face her, and for the first time she saw his jovial demeanor slip. “None of the Guard run from challenges. But we have to be practical. Sometimes the smarter path is to go around. Think about this seriously. If you go down there and knock him about you will have only made an enemy. And made him angrier. If he happens to beat you, your position of authority in this expedition will be completely nullified. There is no positive outcome.”
“But you’ve eliminated the honorable course of action by allowing his anger to control you. I cannot control how he feels, but I can do what’s right. Action should dictate the outcome, not the other way around. Are we not the Rune Guard? Are we not supposed to expect the same respect and deference owed to the emperor?”
Brax became very still as she spoke, listening intently. When she was done, he quirked one eyebrow and said, “Circumstances are never ideal.”
Aventine frowned. “You make that sound as if it’s an excuse to avoid doing what you know to be right.”
He said nothing for a long time, just stood there and looked at her. Aventine started to worry that she had greatly overstepped her bounds. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold, “You will discover that right and wrong is nothing more than a matter of perspective. Do you think Dranzen believes he’s in the wrong? Our role as Guardsmen requires us to avoid foolish and pointless conflict.”
Unflinching, she met his hard gaze and waited.
He sighed. “I may be your mentor, but that doesn't make me your master. You are free to act on your own accord.”
Pausing only to remove her helmet and adjust her hair, she turned and walked down the hill towards the camp. She made no effort to alter her path to take the long way around to avoid where Dranzen and his warriors were practicing. When she neared the training circle all of the warriors other than Dranzen studiously ignored her. Dranzen, however, never took his eyes off of her once it was obvious that she would pass close by.
The heir of house Lome was standing in a circle of other young men around his age. They were all in various stages of armored dress. Some were fully equipped, others wore only leather underarmor. But all of them wore, as either an armband or a full emblem on their chest, the crest of Lome somewhere on their person. Dranzen practiced with a wooden sword in the midst of them, wearing only leather breeches. His bare torso glistened with sweat. It was clear from the way he moved that he expected to be observed. He was not at all shy about putting his well-muscled body on exhibition.
Aventine went to pass by without saying a word, but Dranzen had other plans. In a mocking voice he called out to her, “So, the emperor’s whelp needs further training. Come, let me show you how a real man fights.”
She turned to address him, but before she could speak he had tossed a wooden practice sword towards her. He continued to speak as she grabbed the sword out of the air, “I apologize, that was unkind. We’re all friends here, right? Step into the ring and let's have a friendly sparring session.” He gave her a sweet smile, but his eyes looked like murder.
He’s attempting to dictate the engagement, control my reactions, stay one step ahead.
Her father’s words sprang unbidden into her mind. Belatedly, she realized that Dranzen had probably been training his entire life to be a warrior, just as she had.
But was his teacher as good as mine?
She handed Brax her short sword and runestone, ignoring his frown. She hefted the wooden training sword to test its balance as she stepped into the gap the Lomish warriors had made for her in the ring. “As long as it remains friendly. I have no desire to—” she started, but before she could finish, Dranzen snarled and launched himself across the training circle.
Dranzen lashed out at her head. Aventine backpedaled in surprise, barely getting her guard up in time. Her wooden blade absorbed the force of the blow, the impact jolting through her sword down into her hands and arms.
That would have knocked me out cold!
She pivoted away, hoping Dranzen’s momentum would carry him to the edge of the ring. But he anticipated her pivot and shifted his weight with her so that she had no time to think, only react. They exchanged a flurry of blows, Aventine barely parrying each one, as Dranzen pressed her relentlessly around the ring.
He thinks I’m a novice. He’s trying to overwhelm me and win immediately.
Aventine saw awareness dawning in Dranzen’s eyes as he realized she was just as good with a sword as he was. With new appreciation for her ability, he changed his tactics, and it became a duel. He could not overpower her, so he apparently decided he would wait for her to make a mistake and then strike the winning blow. She knew immediately, from just his fighting stance, that she had him. His was the stance of someone who had yet to be truly tested. He had been trained to score points in a grand melee at a tournament; she had been trained to fight in the vanguard of an army.
He’s probably only ever fought people who let him win.
She charged, knowing she needed to end this quickly. Practice sword held high, she rushed him like she was putting everything she had into one mighty two-handed swing. Dranzen raised his wooden blade to block her heavy attack. She let her sword strike his, but her swing had no weight behind it. The attack was a feint. Her armored thigh lashed out, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. He went down hard. She pinned his sword to the ground with her foot and pointed her weapon at him. Sprawled in the dirt, he glared up.
Do not humiliate an opponent unless you intend to defeat them utterly, or you will only fight them again.
Again the words of her father. Before forcing a contest of wills by demanding Dranzen yield, she backed away to let him up. “Well fought, Sir Dranzen. Had you been armored it would have been a better contest.”
There, that should let him save face.
She turned to exit the ring before waiting to see his response.
“You BITCH!” She heard him erupt behind her, but before she could turn around she was yanked violently off her feet and smashed face-first into the ground. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her. Wrenched upwards by her hair, she was yanked to her knees. She gagged, trying to draw breath past a mout
h full of dirt. Pain radiated from her scalp.
My hair! He grabbed my braid and yanked me down from behind.
On her knees before Dranzen, she turned and spat dirt out of her mouth. He gripped her hair with cruel fingers. She could barely move her head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brax, a disapproving frown on his face. The giant Guardsman stood with his arms crossed, making no move to intervene.
Looking up at Dranzen with just her eyes, she demanded, “Release me.”
Instead of acknowledging her he made a lewd gesture with his hips and leered down at her.
Very well.
Without warning, Aventine drove her gauntleted fist into Dranzen’s bare midsection. He was completely unprepared for the blow. His fingers let go of her hair and he staggered back, retching. Hands on his knees, he gasped for air. After getting to her feet she stood and watched him struggle, waiting for him to compose himself.
When he was fully recovered, she took two steps to stand in front of him and slapped him hard across the face with her left hand. “You dishonor the emperor,” she said with disgust. She backhanded him, snapping his head in the opposite direction. Blood splattered her gauntlet and out of the corner of her eye she saw Dranzen’s warriors jump into motion.
Behind her Brax’s deep voice said, “Let your master fight his own battles.” The Lomish warriors stopped, torn between the need to rescue their lord from Aventine’s wrath, and fear of incurring Brax’s own.
“You dishonor my house.” She slapped him again. “You dishonor Lome.” On her next swing he intercepted her hand, having recovered from his shock at having the tables turned on him so quickly. She didn’t hesitate. She hammered him in the mouth with her right fist, pulling the blow to avoid shattering his teeth and breaking his jaw. The force of the punch knocked him onto his backside, bloody spittle flying from his mangled lips.
Finally working up the courage to act, Dranzen’s warriors jumped in and wrestled her away from him. She jerked her arms out of their grasp and turned to walk towards Brax. The last she saw of Dranzen he was being helped to his feet, dazed and unable to stand on his own.
Brax fell into step beside her as she stalked towards their tents on the far side of the encampment. She could feel disapproval radiating off of him. Aventine was not in the frame of mind to be reprimanded. Rather than give him the opportunity to speak, she walked faster.
“Stop a bit,” Brax said as they passed behind a supply wagon. “You need to slow down, because this isn't over.”
She had felt a deadly calm sweep over her during the fight with Dranzen, but now that she had stopped moving, and had time to start processing what had happened, she felt herself getting angry.
“Relax,” Brax said. “You can’t make good decisions with adrenaline pumping through your veins.”
“Brax, you saw,” she could not finish, and instead looked at him with fury in her eyes.
“Aye, I saw. You ignored my counsel, put yourself in a compromising position, and beat the spit out of the nephew of the leader of our expedition.”
Aventine gave Brax a shrewd look. “You make it sound as if I was the bully.”
“Don’t be naïve. That’s exactly how it looked. He got in a cheap blow, and you smashed his face in revenge.”
“He needed to be taught a lesson! He disrespected both the Guard and the emperor.”
“It’s not your lesson to teach!” Brax was almost shouting now. “You cannot right every wrong or combat every injustice. We’re here for a purpose, and any course of action that impedes our completion of our orders betrays the emperor’s trust.”
Invoking the emperor’s name silenced Aventine. There was some idea here that she was not able to fully grasp yet. Did the emperor expect them to embody his principles of mercy, justice, and duty in all that they did, or were those principles sacrificed when they became inconvenient to the mission?
While she paced back and forth behind the supply wagon, her heart and thoughts slowed back down to normal speed. “I just couldn't believe what he had done. Instead of thinking, I reacted.”
“Someday those reactions will save your life.” Brax crossed his arms as he looked at her. “But tell me, are you still certain you acted as you should have?”
Aventine stopped moving, pausing as she reflected on the fight with Dranzen. After thinking it over she nodded, her face resolute. “Yes, without a doubt. I’d pound him again in a heartbeat.”
Brax sighed. “I thought as much.” He turned towards where their tents were pitched. “Come on, they’re going to be looking for us. Please try to act contrite. You can’t beat up the heir to a noble house without apologizing.”
We’ll see about that.
But rather than argue, she followed Brax.
In front of their tents Sir Lorent was waiting for them with a squad of Legion soldiers. Brax did not hesitate. He called to the Lome praetor, “Sir Lorent. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Sir Lorent ignored Brax, observing them silently as they closed the distance to the tent. He did not speak until they were standing directly in front of him. “Aventine of Morn, you are under military arrest for the assault and attempted murder of the heir of house Lome.”
Aventine stopped short, too shocked to speak. Even Brax was taken aback, but only for an instant. “What’s this nonsense?” Brax said. “Aventine and Dranzen had a friendly sparring match that got a little rough. There were at least fifteen witnesses!”
Sir Lorent did not look convinced. “Those witnesses are in agreement that Aventine attacked Dranzen unprovoked. Aventine who is”—he glanced at Aventine to emphasize his point—”fully armored, and Dranzen wearing nothing but leather breeches.” He paused to let his words sink in. “What’s more, they claim that once Aventine bested Dranzen, she continued to beat him even after the fight was over.”
“Did they mention that he attacked her while she was trying to walk away?” Brax said.
“If he wants a rematch, he can put on his armor and meet me outside the camp,” Aventine said. She could not believe what she was hearing.
Sir Lorent gave her a long, reproving look. “This is not the time or place to argue your case. You have been accused of a crime. The military law when on campaign is quite clear. You are to be arrested and held until such time that you can be tried. Your innocence, or guilt, will be decided then.”
“No,” Brax said in flat refusal. “Get out of my sight, Lorent. I will hear no more talk of her arrest.”
Sir Lorent visibly paled. Aventine did not know what authority, or power, Brax held over Sir Lorent, but the praetor did not argue. “Your defiance of military law will be noted, and I will demand a full investigation upon our return to the palace. Until that time, you will be entrusted as her warden. If at any time she leaves your presence she will be arrested and transported back to the palace.”
“Fine. Now be on your way.” Brax gestured with his hand, dismissing Lorent as one would shoo away an annoying underling.
They watched as Lorent and the Legion troops marched away. Once they were out of sight Brax said, “Come.” He held open the flap of his tent so Aventine could enter.
Brax’s tent was not what Aventine had expected. Her own tent was just big enough for her to crawl into and sleep in. She had been surprised to see Legion troopers set up Brax’s tent. His tent was big enough for both of them to stand in and had been furnished with a portable wooden writing table and two chairs along with a cot big enough to support his weight. Beside the cot along the tent wall was a magnificent wooden trunk with ornate runes carved into its surface. She sat down hard on one of the chairs, her armor clanking in protest.
“Attempted murder?” She gave Brax a worried look. For the first time since the start of her training she felt a little out of her depth. She was a soldier, trained to meet any challenge head-on. But she was starting to suspect that Brax was more than just a simple soldier. More troubling, however, was the open hostility from the warriors of the nobility. Animosi
ty she had expected and prepared for, assault and slander she had not.
Must I fight our allies as well as our enemies?
Brax stood in front of the writing table, facing away from her. The silence stretched awkwardly. Just when Aventine was certain he would not speak, he said, “I warned you. You should have anticipated this outcome. Always anticipate the worst possible consequence, and if you can’t accept it, don’t act.”
He poked his head outside the tent, checking to make sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. That done, he walked back to where Aventine was sitting and sat down in the chair opposite her, spinning it around so that he sat in it backwards with his arms folded over its back.
“I hope you take the lesson to heart. However, there is more going on here than you know. And that in itself is another lesson in trusting the counsel of your mentor. House Lome has been aggressively positioning itself for the past several years to become the next great house. To upset the balance of power they have to undermine the designs of the emperor, and so come into direct conflict with the Guard. We have been trying to produce evidence of their corruption, but so far have failed. They have been fighting a war of influence against us and winning. The reach and power of the Guard is greatly diminished, and Lome will do anything they can to weaken us further.” He gestured with one hand towards Aventine. “Arresting you on trumped up charges of attempted murder would be a masterstroke.”
“Is the emperor so weak? How can one minor house subvert the entire Guard?”
“House Lome has powerful allies. Our best guess is that most, if not all, of the great houses are tired of answering to the emperor and are funneling money and power into Lome to spark a rebellion.”
Aventine gasped, mouth hanging open in shock. “Surely not! The emperor stands by and does nothing?
Brax shook his head. “No, the emperor does not sit idly by. He sent me.”
She said nothing, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m the emperor’s assassin,” Brax said.