by Callie Kanno
Cowan lifted an exquisite bow and placed it on the table. The top of the bow was carved into the form of a phoenix, and the shaft was made to look like long tail feathers. The wood was lacquered a fiery red, and the phoenix was overlaid with gold and tiny rubies.
Aherin stepped forward next.
“That weapon is mine.”
A grim smile crossed Cowan’s face. “We shall see.”
Aherin took the bow and the same look of concentration darkened his features. He spoke almost instantly and without the effort that Hildar had needed. “His name is Liuz.”
Drusi acknowledged the truth of the statement, and Cowan’s smile grew wider.
“Welcome to the Royal Guard, Aherin, son of Dins.”
Idris’s heart began pounding and he felt his palms become damp with sweat.
“That leaves our fortunate farmer,” said Cowan as he lifted the partisan onto the table.
The weapon was even more stunning that Idris remembered, especially now that it wasn’t surrounded by the wealth of the Treasury. Cowan extended the polearm to Idris, but he didn’t reach out to take it.
“What is the matter, boy?” growled the captain.
Idris struggled to find the words. “She…uh…she did not…seem to like me when we spoke before. I do not think she will tell me her name.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
Idris desperately wished he could disappear and go back to where he belonged.
Cowan’s expression seemed to soften slightly, although it was hard to tell with the numerous scars that warped his features.
“Boy, if this weapon is meant for you, she cannot refuse you. Take a hold of her and decide within yourself that you will learn her name.”
Idris shifted his bundle and uniform under one arm, reached out a trembling hand, and took hold of the partisan. The smooth shaft felt cool against his skin, and it was strangely comforting.
You again? Why will you not leave me be?
The sharp voice in Idris’s mind was not as shocking this time. He focused on the weapon and willed it to tell him its name.
There was a mocking laugh in his mind. My name? You have no right to such knowledge.
Idris concentrated harder.
He knew he was just a farmer, but he had been led to that partisan. Even if he could never use it as a proper warrior, he had a right to know its name.
The pause seemed like an eternity, even though Idris knew it was brief.
Iona. I am called Iona, farmer.
Idris wanted to give a triumphant yell, but he restrained himself. “Her name is Iona.”
Drusi gave the slight nod, and Cowan seemed unable to believe what had just happened. He slowly got to his feet and made a gesture of astonishment.
“Welcome to the Royal Guard, Idris, son of Cadell. In all my years, I have never seen so many new members in a single year. I did not think it possible in these days of dwindled magic.”
The other members of the Royal Guard seemed to have shared the opinion, and more than one of them looked rather concerned.
“Think you that this bodes ill for our future, Captain?” Roth asked, a deep crease showing on his forehead.
Jerin nodded in agreement. “Perhaps war in on the horizon, that we should need so many new Guards.”
Palti laughed lightly. “So grim, my friends. Perhaps it is merely our good fortune to see so many new faces at this table.”
“Perhaps,” mused Cowan, “but we shall not know the future until we see it with our own eyes. Until then, there is little use worrying about it.”
All of the Royal Guards stood and looked at the new recruits expectantly. Idris shifted from foot to foot nervously, not knowing what he was supposed to do.
Cowan nodded to the Guards on his right and they moved to gather items that were at the far end of the table, out of Idris’s line of sight. Then they approached the newcomers. Palti was the one who stood in front of Idris, and he held in his hands what looked to be some sort of harness.
Palti wrapped the harness around Idris’s chest, cross-wise, and began adjusting the buckles so that it fit snugly. As Palti did this, Cowan provided the explanation.
“It is important that you keep your weapon with you always. Not only will this aid in creating a bond between the two of you, but also you must learn to think of it as a part of your own body. You must learn to move without being hindered by its presence, and you must come to feel incomplete without it.”
Palti took the partisan from Idris’s hand and strapped it in place on his back. The weight felt strange to Idris, and he was very aware of the blade just over his shoulder. After the weapon had been settled into place, Idris heard a strange clicking sound.
Cowan went on in his growling tone. “However, none of you know how to properly use your weapons yet. As you currently stand, you are more of a danger than anything else. Therefore, these have been specially designed to prevent you from removing your weapons from their holder. You may remove the holder from your body when you go to bed at night, but you can only remove the weapon with the aid of your instructor. When you have proven yourselves worthy, you will be freed from this restraint.”
“What if we need to defend ourselves?” asked Aherin.
“Find a stick and use that,” Cowan said without a trace of humor.
“So you would rather that we die defenseless than use our weapons before you have deemed us worthy?” asked Hildar in a scathing voice.
Cowan was unmoved by her tone. “If it truly comes to life and death, you are not likely to face it alone. The other members of the Royal Guard will protect you. Letting an untrained soldier wield a weapon of power is like handing a torch to a child and telling them to run through a hayfield with their eyes closed.”
Aherin and Hildar seemed unhappy with the arrangement, but Idris was secretly grateful for it. He felt so uncertain and so incompetent. He appreciated being told that he needed to take things slowly until he learned more.
“You will join the army recruits for your basic training, and then you will have specialized training with your Royal Guard instructor,” Drusi said briskly. She indicated to the woman who had guided them from the military courtyard. “Farah will be that instructor. The Royal Guard have separate quarters from the rest of the military. Demas will show you where you will be living from now on. Leave your belongings, change into your uniform, and meet back at the palace without delay.”
Demas made a gesture inviting them to follow him, and he began walking back toward the military complex. Once they were safely out of sight of the other members of the Royal Guard, a friendly smile broke across his youthful face.
“Three new members of the Guard. I cannot believe it! I was so excited when we were told that Aherin would be joining us. That was five months ago, you know. I was so impatient for the new training cycle to begin. I am tired of being the youngest Guard, and it has been three years since I was chosen. I suppose I should not complain. Farah was the youngest Guard for more than ten years. But when we received the report that two additional recruits had been chosen, Cowan was certain there had been a mistake.”
“Is that why we were all tested?” asked Hildar, still looking affronted that her word had been doubted.
Demas shook his curly head. “No, I went through that same test. It is part of a long tradition.”
Aherin glanced at the sword strapped to Demas’s hip. The hilt and sheath together had the form of a leviathan. Various blue and green jewels glittered together as the scales, and the eyes were made of opals. The top of the hilt was the creature’s open mouth, and, like Idris’s dragon, the teeth were made of tiny diamonds.
“I see your weapon is not locked up,” Aherin observed.
Demas squared his shoulders and spoke with pride. “I was declared worthy after only six months of training—fastest in the history of the Royal Guard. Of course, most of that is not due to me. Mahira is a good-natured sword, and she took a liking to me right away.”
“Army barracks are there,” Demas said, pointing, “and meals are taken in that building over there. The Royal Guard eats with the rest of the military, even if we sleep separately. It is during meals that announcements are made and assignments are given.”
Idris had the uneasy feeling that he was going to forget something important, and he listened to everything Demas said attentively. He tried not to be distracted by the stares he felt as their group passed the army recruits.
“The path to our quarters is this way,” said Demas, heading toward the tall building that was closest to the palace wall.
The entryway of the building was simple and bare. The room had a handful of benches, but nothing more. On the far end there was a door with a sign that identified it as the medical clinic, and to the left of that was a stairway that led up.
Demas led them immediately to the right of the front entrance and to a stairway that led down. The spiral staircase was tight, and Idris felt rather dizzy as they reached the bottom.
Their guide paused in front of the door at the bottom of the stairs and turned to them, pausing. Idris looked past him at the door. It appeared to be made of some sort of shimmering black stone, with no visible latch or handle.
“The door has magical properties,” explained Demas with a grin. “It recognizes the power in our weapons and allows us entry, which means you have to be holding some sort of magical item to pass through. That gives us privacy and security.”
He pushed on the door and it opened obligingly.
“Yet another reason to always keep your weapon with you,” commented Aherin.
“Exactly,” said Demas.
The hall beyond the door was long and straight. Torches lined the walls, illuminating the underground passage well. Doors lined the wall to the right, each made of the same shimmering stone as the one they had just passed through. Some of the doors bore carvings of mythical creatures, while others were blank.
Demas waved his hand. “Choose a room. They are all the same, so it does not make much difference.”
Idris stared down the hall in confusion. “Any of them?”
“Well,” said their guide, “any with a blank door. The moment you touch one of the doors it will become imprinted to you and your weapon. From that moment on, no one may enter that room except for you. Unless you give permission, of course.”
There were at least two dozen doors, and less than half of them had been claimed. Hildar walked down the hall and chose the room farthest from the other members of the Royal Guard. She pushed open the door and disappeared inside.
Aherin shrugged and chose the blank door that was closest to the entrance. When he touched the door, Idris could see the shape of a phoenix carving itself on the door. Aherin disappeared inside, leaving Idris and Demas alone.
“Well?” said Demas amiably.
Idris’s face warmed and he muttered, “I suppose it does not matter which room I choose.”
A quiet chuckled came from his guide. “No, it does not. But, if it makes you feel any better, I was frozen with indecision when I first arrived.”
Demas walked down a few doors and pointed.
“This is my room, and that one over there is Palti’s. Why not take the one between ours?”
Idris nodded gratefully and walked to the door indicated. He reached out an uncertain hand and touched the shimmering stone of the door. It was smooth and cool at first, but it grew suddenly warm as the figure of a dragon appeared before Idris’s eyes.
Idris pushed the door open easily.
The room beyond was simpler than the other rooms he had seen in the palace, but it seemed more grand than anything Idris had previously called his own. The room was chilly—probably from disuse—but there was an empty fireplace on the left wall that could provide warmth when Idris needed it. The stone floor was covered with an intricately patterned rug covered the stone floor. A sturdy bed sat along the right wall, and in the corner was a simple trunk with a candle and candlestick resting on its lid. There were a few hooks attached to the wall where he could hang a cloak or his weapon harness at night.
Idris had never had a room to himself before, and he suddenly felt very rich. However, even as he smiled in satisfaction at all these nice things he could now call his own, part of him would have traded them all to be back in the room he had shared with his brothers.
Chapter Eight: Oaths
Idris crossed the room to his new bed and set down the bundle that had been given to him by his father. He was curious what was inside, but he knew that opening it would have to wait. Drusi’s instructions had been very clear, and Idris did not want to keep the Royal Guard waiting.
He clumsily unbuckled his weapon harness and propped the partisan against the wall. Then he quickly donned his new uniform and set his old clothing on the bed next to the bundle.
A mirror hung on the wall in the corner, and Idris took a hurried glance to make sure that he looked as he should. Black was not a color that Idris was accustomed to wearing, and he felt strange and formal. He strapped the partisan back into place and returned to the hallway where Demas was waiting.
Aherin and Hildar were already present, the latter with a look of distaste as she adjusted her belt.
“How long until we get to wear the uniform of the Royal Guard?” she asked in a haughty tone.
Idris caught an amused expression passing over Demas’s face, but it was gone by the time Hildar looked up.
Demas tapped the hilt of his sword. “You may wear the uniform when your weapon is unlocked for good.”
He beckoned for them to follow him as he made his way back up the stairs and through the training grounds.
Idris looked at the bustle of the would-be soldiers as they went about their tasks, and he ventured to ask a question. “How long do the army recruits train before they are finished?”
This time it was Aherin who answered.
“That depends on the position they are aspiring to achieve.”
Aherin said it as if he thought the answer was obvious, and Idris felt his face flush with embarrassment at his own ignorance. He didn’t dare ask any more questions, lest the others see how little he knew.
Demas watched the exchange with a measured expression, and then spoke to Idris casually. “All soldiers receive the same training up to a certain point, and after that it becomes more specialized. City guards and those who are assigned away from Marath do not receive the same amount of training as palace guards. And, of course, none of the army receives as much training as the Royal Guard.”
Idris nodded in understanding. He silently wondered which path Meic would choose.
“Any qualified member of the army can apply to become trainers here at the complex,” Demas went on, “but officers must have experience in all three positions before they can be considered for promotion. Most soldiers start in positions away from Marath—in cities or villages, or patrolling roads. From there they request a transfer to be city guards, and then from there palace guards. There are not many positions for officers, so the competition is fierce.”
By this time they were back on the palace grounds and walking toward the magnificent building. The sound of falling water filled Idris’s ears as they climbed the steps that led to the entrance, and he was once again struck by the rich beauty before him.
They followed the main corridor from the entry, which led to double doors that were guarded by four palace guards. The door, like others Idris had seen, was plated with gold and was decorated with the dragon and starburst laid out in glittering jewels.
All of the members of the Royal Guard were waiting off to the side of the corridor. Cowan made an impatient gesture to hurry them along as soon as he saw the approaching.
“The king is waiting,” he growled.
The Royal Guards fell into formation naturally, making up two rows of three with Cowan at the he
ad. Demas moved the three newcomers into place to form a third row behind the rest. Idris was placed to the right of Hildar and Aherin was placed on her left.
Two of the palace guards opened the golden doors, and a servant announced their entrance in a loud voice.
“His majesty’s Royal Guard, commanded by Captain Cowan.”
Idris was glad that all he had to do was follow the lead of those walking in front of him. His mind was overwrought from all of the splendor and formality before him.
The room appeared to be the king’s reception room, and it was certainly designed to impress. The floors were made of pure white marble, which echoed with the sound of each footfall. The walls were covered in gold and elaborately carved along the edges, as was the ceiling. A chandelier of priceless crystal hung from the high ceiling, but the candles within it were not currently lit. Instead, rich curtains had been drawn back from the tall windows to let the chandelier twinkle in the sunlight.
People who Idris guessed were nobles stood in groups throughout the room, all dressed in costly robes of embroidered silk. Ornate headdresses made them seem taller than they truly were, and lacquered fingernails made their hands seem long and strange.
At the far end of the room there was a golden dais, upon which stood a wide throne. It seemed to be designed to allow the monarch to sit or recline according to his desire. The throne was made in the shape of a dragon, and King Nikolas the Bold was relaxed in its embrace.
The king was no less impressive than his reception room. His red silk robe was embroidered with gold and trimmed with some sort of glossy black fur. He wore the famous Sun Crown, one of the greatest treasures of the kingdom of Calaris, and it was just like Idris’s parents had described in the stories they told. It was shaped like a starburst that was fixed to the back of the king’s head by a jeweled band. The effect made the king look like the drawing of some sort of deity.
The king did not bear the coloring of the average citizens of Calaris, nor did any of the nobles. Intermarriage between monarchies was common, and it had endowed Nikolas with dark auburn hair and rather fair skin. He had bright brown eyes and a thick beard that was neatly trimmed.