Soldier Song (The Teralin Sword Book 6)

by D. K. Holmberg

She had a quick mind, and Endric enjoyed working with her, enjoying the back-and-forth nature of their sparring, and he brought her through increasingly complex patterns. As he got to one of them, it was too complicated for her, and she stumbled. Endric darted forward in a quick flurry of attack, and she raised her practice stave to try to block, but she wasn’t able to.

  Endric danced back, nodding to her. “You did well tonight.”

  “I’m going to beat you one of these days,” she said.

  “You’d better be prepared when you do,” he said.

  “Prepared for what?”

  “I am sure my father would promote you to my position.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to beat you,” she said, smiling.

  She hurried off to join the rest of the camp, and he overheard how she was welcomed back. There was a certain camaraderie to those who sparred with him. That was another benefit to his working with the soldiers. They saw him as a leader, but they also saw him as an expert, and it built up a different sort of camaraderie between those who were willing to work with him.

  Regardless of what Senda said, Endric knew that there was a time when he would need to take over for his father, which meant that he would need to challenge him for the lead of the Denraen. He didn’t want to rush that day and was perfectly content serving as a second-in-command for as long as his father saw fit to rule.

  Senda believed there was more to it, and maybe there was. Could he be ready to lead all the Denraen? When he’d challenged his father before, he hadn’t been ready. It had been a mistake, and it was one he wasn’t willing to make again.

  And then there was the question of what would become of Dendril.

  That was something he didn’t want to think about. Not yet.

  His father had only been a significant part of his life for only a little while. Endric valued that new connection, something he’d missed when he was younger. When he challenged his father, he would lose that again.

  Was he ready for that?

  The next sparring partner to approach was Jamison. Jamison was one of the younger Denraen, been chosen recently, having been plucked from Gomald during a selection process. The Denraen patrolled throughout all countries, and during their patrols, they were allowed to choose some of the best and brightest and most promising soldiers, which helped unify the Denraen, but it also helped ensure that their ranks were flushed with skilled soldiers. Jamison was one such man, and when he had joined, Endric had identified his potential right away. While he wasn’t as skilled with the sword as Marlis, he knew that in time it was possible that Jamison could be even greater.

  There was a certain amount of bravery to him, too. He was willing to come spar each night, something not all of the men were willing to do. Endric had hand-picked this group, and because of that, most were willing, but few came nightly.

  “Are you ready?” Endric asked, holding up his practice stave.

  Jamison smiled, bringing out his practice sword and holding it in the ready pose. His posture was slightly off, which meant that his initial footing would be slightly off, but Endric didn’t correct it. He wanted Jamison to recognize his footing would lead to a misstep with the very first catah.

  Endric always allowed the challengers to lead the attack. When he did, he blocked, easily forcing Jamison back. From that point, he twisted into the attack, beginning to move forward in a flurry of movements. He made a point of keeping his pace slow enough that Jamison could keep up, and he wanted it so that Jamison recognized the pattern to the catah he used.

  He kept pace, but he stumbled a little bit more than Marlis had.

  Endric moved him through the same catah, repeating it several times until he managed to get it. When he did, he moved on, demonstrating the defense.

  They continued sparring, back and forth, offense and defense, until Jamison was tired. Endric tipped his head in a nod, and Jamison disappeared to join his friends.

  When Senda approached, he laughed softly. “It’s been a while since the two of us have sparred,” he said.

  “I thought you needed a challenge,” she said.

  “Staff or sword?”

  “Do you think you could really beat me with the staff?”

  Endric shrugged. “Probably.”

  She smiled. “Then staffs,” she said.

  He tossed the practice sword off to the side and waited until she handed him a staff. There were no differences between the practice staff and the one she carried at all times. It was long and tall and had a certain flex in the middle. Endric had felt the sting of it against his skin on countless occasions during their sparring sessions, and though he hadn’t practiced with her in quite some time, he wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to catch him with a few blows. Of all the people in their camp, Senda probably had the most skill after him. It would be a good spar.

  He twisted the staff in his hands, getting used to the weight again. It was a little different than using the sword, and it took Endric a moment to feel comfortable with it. As he twisted it, Senda watched.

  “Would you like the honors?” she asked.

  He laughed again. “Does that mean you’re the master?”

  “I am until you beat me.”

  “I thought I beat you the last time.”

  “There you go again. Thinking.”

  He shook his head and started forward, spinning the staff. The catahs involved with it were similar to those used with the sword, and he had experience in mixing the two. She was incredibly skilled, but her reflexes were not nearly as quick as his.

  He struck forward, swinging the staff in such a way that he thought to connect with her shoulder, but Senda spun, and he missed, catching only air. She spun hers around, and he blocked, still getting accustomed to the different movement of the staff. It was odd to fight with the staff after working with the sword as often as he did, and it took another moment to reacquaint himself.

  He dipped the end of his staff forward, feigning in one direction before spinning it back the other. She blocked, and he did the same but in reverse. Endric flowed through a series of movements, mixing sword and staff patterns together, feeling the movements as he struggled to work through them.

  Senda wasn’t fast enough.

  Endric swung forward, catching her on the shoulder, but didn’t crash into her at full speed. He darted back, nodding at her.

  Senda leaned on her staff. “You really have gotten skilled.”

  “I don’t know if it’s skill or something else,” he said.

  “I will take it as something else,” she said.

  He laughed. “It’s because I can mix sword catahs with what I’ve learned of the staff.”

  “They aren’t the same. The movements of the staff would need to be modified heavily.”

  “I modify them.”

  “Some of them, I’ve never seen before,” she said.

  “It’s because I modify them as we go.”

  “You can do that?”

  He shrugged. “There’s something to the patterns that just clicks for me.”

  “What does your father think of that?”

  “My father?”

  “Dendril. I’m sure he is impressed by your ability to mix staff and sword catahs.”

  “Where do you think I learned it from?”

  She laughed. “I’ve sparred with your father. He’s gifted, but this is different.” She tapped her staff on the ground. “Enjoy the rest of your challengers.” She headed away from him, tossing the practice staff down and grabbing her own before disappearing into the camp.

  Endric waited for someone else to come for a challenge, but he heard a shout instead. He dropped the staff and hurried to the edge of the camp. Pendin stood there, looking out into the darkness.

  “What is it?” Endric asked.

  “I don’t know. One of our scouts.”

  “Were they hurt?”

  Pendin shook his head. “I don’t think they were hurt, but it was more of an alert. There shouldn’t be
any reason for the scouts to be calling out.”

  There was another shout, and Endric stepped forward, away from the fire, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. As they did, he realized a dark shadow moved across the distance.

  If it were anywhere else, he would’ve feared the groeliin.

  They were creatures out of darkness and nightmare, and they were able to sneak up on people, moving silently, with only their stench as a warning to those without Antrilii—or Magi—connections, but they wouldn’t have been seen by any scouts. His men would have died before recognizing the groeliin.

  “What is it?” Pendin asked.

  And if not groeliin, it meant soldiers. Plenty of them, from the looks of it.

  “It looks as if we need to prepare for an attack,” he said. “Make preparations.”

  The men quickly prepared, which included tamping down the fire. They needed to have the light with which to fight, but they also didn’t need to have their eyes blinded by the flames.

  Within moments, the Denraen were ready. Endric was pleased with how quickly they prepared and was pleased that Pendin was the one who managed to get them all together and readied. He had come a long way since his rescue. Would Pendin even see that about himself?

  Endric continued to stare out into the night, counting the oncoming soldiers.

  There were dozens and dozens.

  More than that. Hundreds.

  Could the attack earlier have been little more than a diversion?

  If that were the case, it was an effective one. It had peeled off fifty of the Denraen, weakening their numbers. Though he hated to admit it, he wondered whether or not the Denraen he’d sent with Davis were still alive. If it were a feigned attack, he wouldn’t be surprised if those men had been lost.

  He clenched his jaw, staring out in the darkness.

  “What is it?” Senda asked.

  “Just trying to figure out what this is about.”

  “I thought this was about you out on patrol.”

  “It is about me out on patrol.”

  “We’ve had attacks like this before. Your father has always been aware of them. That’s part of the reason the Denraen continue to patrol.”

  “They shouldn’t attack with the Denraen patrolling,” Endric said.

  “Shouldn’t? There will always be men who think it reasonable to attack other men. There will always be men who think they can steal from villages. And out here in the north, where there is only the Denraen and nothing else? They understand we have limited resources. If we could do more, then we wouldn’t have to worry about it, but there is only so much we can do.”

  The others continued to approach. The Denraen were ready, and they met the attack.

  It came quickly, and in the darkness, it was brutal. The Denraen were outnumbered, and Endric was forced to attack, so he surged forward, his sword unsheathed, the teralin in the blade practically singing as he swung. He darted from person to person, cutting through them, not wanting to kill, preferring to simply maim, but after a while, he didn’t have much choice.

  There was a certain brutality to fighting like this. Endric would much rather be fighting monsters like the groeliin or dangerous people like the Deshmahne, but his days had been filled with fighting men—and even then, not often. Few men risked themselves against the Denraen.

  Though they were outnumbered, the Denraen were the better fighters.

  Endric continued to push forward, driving back the attackers.

  In his mind, he counted the Denraen he might lose in the attack. This was a more brutal attack than what they had encountered earlier in the day. With that one, the men had been intoxicated—or, seemingly so. It was possible he had misjudged.

  If he had, then his men might have been used against him, and perhaps his tendencies used against him. He didn’t want to think that way, but how else to consider what he was now facing?

  Endric slashed forward, moving through catah after catah, letting the forms flow through him.

  Senda fought alongside him. Her staff whizzed, humming in the air, and he kept enough space between them so that he didn’t get caught up in her movements. She brought down two men for each one he managed to reach. Maybe it would be better to fight with the staff, especially if it were that effective in a fight like this.

  And then it was done.

  Endric looked around, searching for anyone else to attack, but the fighting had moved away from him and was concentrated now on the other Denraen. Even that was beginning to fail, his Denraen pushing back the attack, no longer with the same worry. Eventually, these attackers would fall altogether, and then they would have to pick through what had happened and determine what to do next.

  “What was this about?” he asked Senda.

  She looked down, staring at one of the attackers. “I don’t know. There is something odd about this.”

  “Odd? You mean that they came in such numbers?”

  “We’ve seen that before.”

  “Not for a while.”

  “No, not for a while, but the organization to attackers is nothing new here. It’s the fact that I haven’t heard anything about it that troubles me.”

  “That’s what bothers you?”

  “You don’t understand. My connections should be such that there isn’t this sort of silence.” She looked up at him. “You should be concerned, too.”

  “Because you’re the Keeper of Secrets?”

  “Because I’m the Keeper of Secrets, and this is a secret I haven’t heard.”

  Endric breathed out heavily. “Maybe it’s time that we return to Vasha. We can send word to Davis in Riverbranch that we returned to the city.”

  “Good. I’ve thought that we should return to Vasha for a while, but you wanted to stay out here and continue to search for raiders to harass.”

  “It seems as if it was good we were here. If we weren’t, what else would’ve happened?”

  “I would’ve heard.”

  “Would you have?” he asked with a smile.

  “This is nothing to joke about, Endric.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re doing. And when the secrets go quiet for the Keeper, that’s a reason for you to be concerned. That’s a reason for all within the Denraen to be concerned.”

  2

  The city of Vasha stretched out in front of Endric. Thick banks of clouds swirled around the peak of the mountain, almost dense enough that he imagined walking across them, though he doubted even the gods would have some way of doing that. They obscured most of the city, keeping it blanketed, and he wondered if perhaps that wasn’t for the best.

  “I can’t see anything,” Pendin snapped.

  Endric glanced over to his shorter—and much more solid—friend. Like the rest of the soldiers around them, they guided their horses, walking them through as the city’s tradition demanded. Chorn seemed to know they were back home, even if they weren’t able to see much of anything.

  “Stay alert for anything unusual.”

  “It’s not like we need to return in secrecy,” Pendin said.

  Endric smiled. Not in secret, but there was value in returning quietly. Until he knew what was taking place—and why Senda hadn’t been able to provide information about the skirmish—they needed to be careful.

  “I would prefer that some believe us still out there,” Endric said. They’d had this conversation before, and Pendin knew his reasoning.

  “Just because we return quietly doesn’t mean that word doesn’t spread of our passing,” Pendin said.

  “Which is why Senda is out there spreading other rumors,” Endric said. And looking for word about the raiders. That was the other thing she had remained behind to do, along with reaching Riverbranch and sending word to the men he’d left behind.

  Pendin twisted to look behind them. They were on the first terrace within Vasha, the entry level. The city was set into the face of a mountain, carved into three separate terraces, each of the
m with distinct qualities. The first terrace was the main part of the city. It was where shops and taverns and the people lived. Following the sloping ramp, he would find the barracks and the headquarters of the Denraen on the second terrace. And above that was the Magi palace. Endric rarely went to the third level, though he might be one of the few not of the Magi who had.

  “I’m surprised you still let her do that,” Pendin said.

  Endric smiled to himself. “There’s not a whole lot of me letting Senda do anything.” He might outrank her once again, having assumed the position of the Raen, but Senda served as the Keeper of Secrets, the spymaster for the Denraen. In that, she was even more effective than her master had been.

  “That’s true enough,” Pendin said.

  As they headed along the road leading through Vasha, Endric hazarded a glance over at the university section. It was a place that was restricted, even to him as one of the high-ranking Denraen. There were secrets within the university that he was simply not allowed to have, and though they had tolerated his presence the few times he had been there, it was clear they viewed him as an outsider.

  Assuming he did take over command of the Denraen eventually, he wondered if they would allow him access to the university then. Probably not, knowing what he did. Then again, there were those within the university who tolerated him more than others, partially because of his friendship with Pendin.

  They reached the pathway leading up to the barracks. The men with him all walked their horses, and there was a strangely muted sound from the boots of the hundred or so men who clomped along the stone, accompanied by the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. The sound didn’t carry very far, not with as thick as the clouds were, practically pressing down upon them.

  A wind whipped around him, catching his cloak, and he ignored the chill within it. It wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been when they had been fighting in the north, though the air always seemed a little strange in Vasha. Part of it came from how high they were in the mountains, and some of it came from the strange warmth that permeated the air from the teralin mines deep within the mountain. After being gone as long as he had, it had been easy to forget just how strange the teralin made the city feel.