Soldier Song (The Teralin Sword Book 6)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Why are you chasing us?” Endric asked.

  He was instantly surrounded by four men dressed in black jackets and pants, strange lettering embroidered along the sides, and he noticed that they had no markings, no tattoos of any sort that would make him think that they were Deshmahne. Their swords were made of steel, and they gleamed in the fading daylight. The men all held their swords as if they were able to wield them well.

  He was a skilled swordsman and didn’t doubt his ability, but taking on this many men might have been a mistake.

  “Not here to talk, then,” Endric said.

  A dark-haired man with a lithe and muscular body darted forward. He swept his sword around in a sharp arc, and Endric blocked. He recognized the catah, though it was somewhat different than what he typically used. The man was quick, and there was a certain level of skill to the way that he fought.

  Two others joined, coming at him from either side.

  Endric fell into the patterns.

  Catahs flowed through him, and while he hadn’t been challenged nearly as often these days as he once had been, he was still able to focus on the catahs and use his knowledge to resist the attack. He moved through the patterns, flowing from one movement to another, blocking sword after sword, staying on the defense until he had a measure of his opponents. Facing three men was difficult, and for some reason, the fourth man stayed back, not pushing forward.

  That troubled him, but he didn’t have a chance to spend much time thinking about it.

  Endric swept through the next pattern and this time used a series of movements that played the men off each other.

  They were accustomed to fighting together.

  Endric grunted to himself and focused on his forms, thinking about how he had fought when faced with the groeliin. Three men were nothing compared to those creatures. Endric shifted from defense to the attack.

  He forced one of the men back and feigned slicing at one of the others before spinning and stabbing toward the man who’d attacked first.

  It forced all three of them back, disrupting their movements.

  Endric continued forward, flowing through his patterns, letting them fill him. There was a certain emptiness within his mind as he fought, and a certain power came to him as he let the catahs roll over him. There was only so much he could do when facing the Denraen, working with them and trying to train them. This was different, and the kind of challenge he hadn’t faced in quite some time.

  He knew he shouldn’t, but he relished it.

  He darted forward, slicing at one of the men, cutting him through the side. The man stumbled, and Endric continued to twist, kicking and knocking the man’s sword out of his hand.

  It left two attackers.

  He parried forward, knocking the smaller of the men back, using a series of catahs that were a combination of things he had learned from the Antrilii and from his father, and mixed with it were some movements of the staff. Altogether, it allowed him to fight in a much more fluid manner than they could keep up with.

  He cut through the next attacker and continued moving, slicing from one to the next. It left only the taller man. He shifted, switching hands with his sword, and as he did, he darted forward, changing the way he fought.

  Endric was taken aback for only a moment. His opponent was skilled, and it seemed as if he had been holding himself back, almost as if taking a measure of Endric.

  His movements were fast, and there was something about them that reminded Endric of the Antrilii.

  “You have some talent,” the man said, grunting as he brought his sword around, blocking Endric.

  Endric followed through the defense of the catah the man used and crashed his sword into the other man’s.

  “I would say the same about you, but you let two men with you fall.”

  “They needed the practice.”

  “And because they needed practice, you were willing to let them die?”

  “Will they die? You cut one on the thigh, a wound that is certainly survivable, and the other, you barely grazed.”

  Endric spun around and almost realized too late that the other man, the one he thought he had disarmed, had gotten back up.

  It was an interesting technique. They had played Endric, though not so much that he couldn’t recognize what they were doing.

  He took a deep breath, focusing on his forms, and sliced through a series of rapid movements, this time not holding back as he attacked, wanting to keep the second man from interfering. He cut through the man’s arm, and the man cried out, clutching his arm to his body.

  Endric spun back to the other man. “Now it’s just the two of us. Who are you and why have you chased us?”

  The man flashed his sword in an awkward angle, and as he did, it created a pattern Endric hadn’t seen. He blocked, but it placed his sword at a strange angle to do so, and the other man was able to counter, driving Endric back. He nearly stumbled, his boots slipping on the deck, but he managed to right himself.

  “Interesting. We haven’t encountered anyone like you on the sea before.”

  Endric darted forward in a series of movements, forcing the man to defend. As he fought, he searched for any evidence of markings that would reveal he was Deshmahne, but he didn’t see anything.

  Who were these men, then? How was this man so skilled? And why did he fight almost as if he were one of the Antrilii?

  Could it mean that he had abilities similar to the Magi?

  The man started to shift, twisting toward Endric in an attack. His movement was strange, and it once again took Endric back, but this time he adjusted, accommodating for the oddity of the attack, the way he twisted his sword down as he fought rather than holding it upright. Endric looked off to the side, twisting his sword up, and it caught the man off guard. He kicked, driving his heel into the man’s side, and the man went stumbling. If nothing else, Endric would end this fight so that he could get some answers.

  The man landed on the ground and flipped back to his feet. He smiled at Endric. “Interesting. You come out of Boastin, but you aren’t from Gomald. You fight with more freedom of thought than any of the Denraen we’ve ever encountered. And there is something… familiar… about you.”

  He started forward again, and his movements were fast, almost too fast for Endric to keep up with.

  It had been five years since he had spent any time with the Antrilii. Five years since he had needed to maintain his rigor of skill, and five years since he had confronted the groeliin. In that time, Endric’s skills had faded somewhat. He was still better equipped than anyone else in the Denraen to handle a fight like this, but he didn’t have the same regular training that he once had.

  And he was worse off for it.

  When the man flashed toward him, his sword moving in a blur, a flurry of movements that reminded him of when he had faced Urik, Endric knew a moment of doubt.

  He pushed it away, focusing on the sword techniques he had learned over the years, holding on to the lessons that he had learned long ago. If he could maintain those connections, he wouldn’t need to worry about what this man might do.

  Endric ducked down, twisting through a series of movements that were different than any catah he’d ever known, forming them in his mind as he hurried forward, wanting to end the fight quickly. In order to do so, he needed to be fast, and he needed to find some way to prevent this man from getting too close to him.

  How?

  Despite the question, Endric reveled in the fight. There was something pure about fighting like this, something freeing. He was in danger, but it was only by being in danger that he ever felt truly alive. It was much the same way he had felt when he had faced the groeliin. They terrified him, composed of death and destruction unlike any other creature he had ever faced, but at the same time, they challenged him in a way that nothing else did.

  The Antrilii had taken a vow to oppose the groeliin, but Endric suspected there was more to it than merely their vow. They also enjoyed the challenge, at le
ast from what he had seen from them.

  He sprung back up, twisting around again, and this time saw two others facing him.

  Where had they come from?

  Both of them looked much the same as the first two he had dispatched, but were uninjured. By now, there should have been help from his ship, but where was it?

  Endric didn’t have a chance to think about that too much, focused on slowing these others, and he ducked down, darting forward with a jab of his sword, catching one of the men in the belly and sweeping his leg around to knock the other down. He kicked the sword free from his hand and stepped back, kicking the man in the head to knock him out.

  It left him with the first man yet again.

  He stood, watching Endric, amusement on his face.

  These others were meant as diversions, to test him and slow him, which meant they were sacrifices his actual opponent was willing to make. How could he be so willing to use his people like that?

  Endric jumped forward, spinning in a flurry of movements. In his mind, he envisioned the man as a groeliin, and he treated the attack as if he had to avoid fangs and claws, the same way he had needed to avoid them when facing actual groeliin.

  Thinking of him in that way made it easier, though the man was quick, possibly faster than any groeliin, and certainly as fast as any of the Antrilii he had trained with.

  Endric was forced back, stepping back into a series of defense movements, and he tripped over the fallen form of one of the other attackers. He jumped back, and suddenly there was the railing behind him.

  For a moment, he wobbled. The ship crashed through the water, moving swiftly.

  Endric pushed off, lunging at the other man and twisting away. He wanted only to feign an attack and was ready for the possibility that the man was prepared for him.

  He brought his sword around, blocking, and as he did, he blocked again, twisting through his movements, knocking the man back.

  For the first time since confronting him, he felt as if he had the upper hand.

  Endric darted forward, slicing through a catah, thinking as if he were going to catch the man on his arm, willing to cut him down, but the man managed to block, catching his blade and twisting it.

  Endric cried out, swinging his sword around, and felt the power of the teralin surging within it.

  He pulled on it.

  Endric wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but it felt as if it were the same as when he charged teralin. That power filled him, and he swept through his catah, moving more rapidly than he had before. When he connected with the other man’s sword this time, he sliced through the blade, shattering it.

  The man hesitated, and Endric used that hesitation to slam the flat of his blade into the man’s forehead, knocking him down.

  Three others surged toward him.

  Endric continued through his catahs, flowing through the movements, and as he did, he dropped two of them in one single slice. It left the third, and Endric stabbed, driving the blade through his belly. All were down, and Endric turned around, looking to see who might come after him next, but there was no one.

  He caught his breath, staring at the fallen man who had posed such a challenge to him, the first such challenge that Endric had had in quite some time, and he knelt in front of him. Endric tore a strip of cloth free from the man’s shirt and used that to bind his hands, and then tore another strip free to bind his ankles. When the man was completely secured, he made his way around the ship, doing the same to the others. With each of them tied, unable to strike, Endric finally stood and looked around. As he did, he realized that there was silence all around him, and it was silence that shouldn’t be there.

  Where were the Denraen?

  Where were Pendin and Senda? Even Novan? Any of them should have come to join him during this fight, but none had.

  As he looked over, he realized that the ship that he had been on was gone.

  Had they abandoned him?

  He looked for signs of a captain, anyone who could help steer them toward Coamdon, but he saw nothing. Endric didn’t know enough about sailing to be able to navigate. Without help, he would be stuck here out on the ocean, with strangers who had attempted to kill him, and at least one man who was more skilled than Endric had expected.

  He made his way below deck, looking for signs of anyone else, but saw nothing.

  The ship was different than the one Novan had hired. The entire hold was open, and he counted the rows of bunks. There were just enough for the number of men who had attacked him. Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

  He looked around the hold, searching for signs of anything that would help him understand what had happened here, and maybe help him understand how they had overtaken his ship, but he didn’t see anything.

  Endric had started back up the stairs when he heard voices.

  He froze.

  “Where is he?”

  “He tied us up and then disappeared,” a voice said. It was the man who had attacked.

  “Then he’s below deck.”

  “It’s the only place he could have gone,” the attacker said.

  “How did he overpower you?”

  “I don’t know. He shouldn’t have been able to.”

  “They were only Denraen,” another voice said.

  “The others were. This one is different.”

  “How do you know he’s different?”

  “The way he fights. I haven’t seen anyone like him before. He anticipated even my most complicated forms, almost as if he’d seen them before.”

  Endric stayed in place, trying not to move. He didn’t want to make a sound, not certain whether the men above deck were even tied up anymore, though it sounded as if they weren’t. How?

  Unless he had missed someone.

  He thought of the man who had been up in the mast on the other ship and realized he might have overlooked someone like that. If there had been someone up there, and they had slid down the mast, they could have untied the others.

  And if the others were untied, what did that mean for Endric?

  Probably nothing. He had defeated the other man once and shattered his sword, which told Endric he likely could do so again, but he wanted to know more about these people. Something was going on here, and while he wasn’t entirely sure what it was, he thought that he needed to understand to be ready for the next possible attack.

  “It’s not just the way he fights. Look at your sword.”

  “I know. It shouldn’t have been possible.”

  “You know what Master Slovan said.”

  “I know what he said, and I know how much I paid for this blade. Now it’s useless.”

  “It might be useless, but if you can find what that man had, maybe you can use something like that.”

  “Only if we can overtake him.”

  “You don’t think that you can overtake him?”

  “Maybe with an adequate weapon. Seeing as how I don’t have one…”

  “Look around you. There are a dozen different options for you.”

  “None of them would be any better than the one I lost.”

  “Can’t you fight two-handed?”

  Endric took a step back. He’d seen the man fight with both his right and left hand, and that had been hard enough. If he suddenly attempted to fight Endric with two swords, it would be even more difficult than facing the others. When they had tried to fight in unison, there were limitations to what they were able to do, but a man who was equally skilled with two swords would be challenging.

  Then again, didn’t he want a challenge?

  He did, but he also wanted to understand. He needed to know who these people were and why they attacked. Until he could figure that out, it wasn’t safe to expose himself.

  But there was no place on this ship to hide.

  He stood at the opening to the stairs, the sound of boots thudding overhead.

  Endric waited, listening to the movement until they drifted toward the stern. When he jumped free, he w
ould be out in the bow, and from there he could either hide or had to prepare an attack.

  The sound of the boots stopped.

  Endric ran up the stairs and jumped out, spinning around to look at the bodies strewn on the deck. All of this destruction had been his fault.

  A man wearing a heavy cloak stood at the stern of the boat, but where was the swordsman Endric had faced?

  The sudden sense of movement caused him to spin.

  Endric jumped back, the railing at his backside.

  The man had dropped down from overhead and landed on the deck. He spun two shorter blades, moving them with comfort. He watched Endric, eyeing him warily.

  “Who are you?” the man asked.

  “Like you said, just a Denraen.”

  The man laughed. “I’ve faced the Denraen. You aren’t Denraen.”

  “Who do you think I am?”

  “Are you Yaluza? Ghalabran? Holsh?”

  With each name, Endric shook his head. He had studied the known lands, and none of them matched these names. Could they be east, beyond the Great Valley and toward the Unknown Lands?

  Maybe they were islands. There were dozens of small islands that dotted the coast beyond Gomald, the largest of which was Salvat. Salvat was something different, but maybe these other places were smaller, though Endric thought that he would’ve heard of something like that, especially if they had the kind of power that made a man like this nervous.

  “As I said, I’m Denraen,” Endric said.

  “And I’ve said that I have faced Denraen.”

  Endric remained tense, staring at the man. He kept his sword ready though he didn’t have the sense that this man intended to attack him, at least not yet. With the railing at his back, Endric wouldn’t be surprised if he did, but it seemed as if he were delaying nonetheless. Why would he be delaying Endric? What did he think to accomplish?

  “And who are you?” Endric asked.

  “I am but a simple soldier,” the man said.

  It was Endric’s turn to laugh. “Simple? I’ve faced plenty of simple soldiers, and you are nothing like that. And who is he?” He motioned to the man standing at the stern. He hadn’t turned or moved at all. Something was unsettling about the fact that he merely stood there, his back to Endric, almost as if he were completely unconcerned about the fact that Endric was back on deck, facing his swordsman—a swordsman Endric had already defeated.