Hunter: Warrior of Doridia (The Saga of Jon Hunter Book 1)

by Ronald Watkins

  There were three other trainees. There were also Sekers in service taking a half month refresher course. We had about twenty of those. They were free to leave quarters at night to go to the taverns or games. Trainees and those being punished were restricted to the complex. Most of us were sticking around nights. The Master of Arms ran a tight ship.

  Each night after the evening meal, I went to the gym where one of the lovely slave girls gave me a massage, afterwards I dropped myself into various whirlpools of hot water and kept my eyes and ears open. I talked so rarely many of the others thought I was mute. I knew that the slaves whispered about me and that the other trainees thought me strange because I slept alone. Tanah, my usual masseur, even commented about it once.

  My command of the language grew and with it my understanding of Doridia. The walled cities were located some distance apart, separated first by a ring of cultivated fields then by undeveloped land and afterwards by forest. Accordingly, Doridia teemed with wildlife beyond the cities and farms.

  It had more than savage wildlife though, as I had good reason to know. Outlaws lurked in the forest. These were undesirables cast from their native cities for less than capital offenses. Those banished were literally outside the law and could be slain with impunity within their own city if they chose to return. As a consequence, the outlaws roamed the untamed forest, living as bandits. Some formed large groups and preyed upon the caravans or encroached near the cities, raided distant farms or even stole from each other.

  Some of these men found employment in other cities and a few even adopted their new city. But in practice, strangers were not readily accepted and the citizens of each city viewed the outlaws of another with justified suspicion. I was such a stranger and was fortunate that the Urak Rahdon spoke up for me.

  My training progressed much to the satisfaction of the Master of Arms. Ctesias and Koptos had remained friendly. They completed their training cycle and returned to routine duty within the city complex.

  Tonak often talked to me far into the night, teaching tactics based on his lifetime of experiences. In spite of his early reservations he had taken a begrudging liking to me in his crusty, abrupt manner. At the end of one month he presented me with my first real weapons, unceremoniously and in private.

  “They’re not fancy, Hunter, but they will serve you well. The sword is of an excellent temper, even though not of Khashan, and will bear the stroke of any weapon. The spear is the finest. The shield has seen better days I admit, but is in serviceable condition. The dagger is first rate if old. The helmet, unfortunately, is dented. I suggest you let the smithy take a look at it. They are of the finest bronze and will take a shine well.

  “The rest of the gear will do,” he continued. “A Seker is not to be judged by the sword he carries but by how he uses it. Be warned, boy, do not be thin skinned and let yourself be drawn into combat by some swaggering tavern hanger- on. I’ve never seen the likes of you before in training but you are still a raw swordsman and a virgin to combat. You’ll not be a true Seker until you’ve dipped your sword in blood. Until then stay with friends and avoid trouble.

  “If I had my way, you’d remain here until I said you were fit, but tradition is tradition and custom dictates once a man is given his sword, he is free to go about after the final meal. So be careful.” He rubbed his short, greying beard in thought. “Oh yes, the cost of these weapons will be taken from your wages. Here’s what’s left of your first month’s salary, less board.” Tonak handed me one copper coin. “Sorry it’s not more, but it will improve, believe me. Now, let’s get a feel of those fine new weapons of yours.”

  ###

  I had changed in the previous month. And not all of it had been physical. Tonak was well versed in all aspects of the Seker. “One mistake,” he said one night, “can cost your life or that of your lord. Being a Seker means more than standing at guard or dallying with pretty tavern slaves. It means being a fine swordsman, the finest possible. If you are less than your best, then your life will be much shorter than you would like.”

  So we were trained. The pace was unrelenting but the results were obvious as I gained nearly twenty pounds, all hard muscle. I could run five miles in full gear and still wage an effective fight at the end. Blisters had turned to callouses.

  But most of all, my usually mild manners disappeared when a sword flashed. This was for real and I intended to be the best there was. I had been reluctant initially but once we put the wood aside, I turned into a tiger. Already experienced men hesitated before taking me on head to head. While no one intended to hurt anyone, some injury was usually sustained, especially to the loser.

  Lately, I rarely lost.

  5. THE SLAVE DANCERS OF RASHMALAN

  Koptos and Ctesias had drawn their pay that day, and as this was to be my first night on the city, we three left together. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather enjoy my time with. Fun loving as they were, they were also bothexpert swordsman. I wasn’t cocky enough to think I should be alone.

  “Before we go, check your cubicle, Hunter. Perhaps you will find something there you need,” Ctesias suggested with a quick look to Koptos. Puzzled, I went to my room and found a fresh crimson and silver lined tunic of the Great House of Rahdon and lustrous, brightly polished body leather, along with new sandal- boots.

  “Try them on,” suggested Koptos, grinning, “let’s see the fit.”

  These were, of course, gifts from my friends. They told me I was now accepted as one of them. With a lump in my throat, I donned my new garments, fastened my sword and dagger to my hip and leaving my shield, spear and helmet behind for such were not worn within the city walls unless on duty, set off with Ctesias and Koptos to increase my learning. One should not, I had been told, permit schooling to interfere with one’s education.

  ###

  The Four Feathers was filled to capacity with Sekers from throughout the city, the alcoves busy and wine flowing freely. The air was heady with the smell of perfume, sweaty bodies and wine. The tavern was lit by flickering wall-mounted torches as well as oil lamps on the tables.

  Sekers of rival Houses avoided each other as was to be expected but, nevertheless, the general mood was one of boisterous comradery. Lovely slaves flitted about, moving quickly to quench both thirsts of their patrons. Guzzling powerful wine was the most popular activity for now.

  Sekers were a fact of life throughout Doridia and as the land had neither national nor formal city government, they assumed a role of major importance. Government consisted largely of rules dictated by Caste, tradition or Guild. No city possessed a police force and armies were raised by the Great Houses only in time of war and upon the unanimous vote of both the Council of the High Caste and Council of the Guilds.

  Each citizen was responsible for his personal security and that of his property. The seven Great Houses of Taslea provided Sekers on a rotating basis each month to patrol the city streets and surrounding countryside. This restrained common thievery but shop owners all employed their own Sekers as well.

  The Great Houses were prevented from forming an alliance to dominate the city by their natural competitiveness and because any such action would incur the wrath of all the Lesser Houses whose united forces could easily overwhelm them. It was a fundamental balance of power that had worked well for over a thousand years.

  Tradition prevented the Sekers from uniting and posing a threat to the existing order. These men were by nature highly individualistic and to further encourage the Seker’s disunity, the Council of the High Caste, whose vote was required, had denied them a Guild. Without a Guild, they were powerless in many ways. Even a common street sweeper had more lawful rights than a Seker.

  Sekers were not to be pitied though. Well paid, competent with weapons, they were men to reckon with and were looked upon by all with a combination of respect, awe and fear.

  Sekers typically pledged lifelong service if employed by one of the Great Houses, sons of Sekers remaining for generations of service. The Les
ser Houses were only so generous with a few Sekers, others were given contracts of a year or so. With shops a Seker served at their patron’s pleasure. Regardless of one’s position, misconduct was not tolerated. Drunkenness on duty or thievery resulted in loss of position. But unfortunately, so too could capriciousness and pettiness on the part of the patron.

  Once a Seker was discharged by one of the Great Houses or one of the more respected Lesser Houses, it was usually impossible for him to obtain decent employment. His opportunities were then restricted to positions as a caravan mercenary guard or to the poorer Lesser Houses and shop proprietors. A Seker on the decline soon found himself forever on the caravan trail or watching a humble shop for little more than his food and a place to sleep, with no prospects for future comfort and security after years of devoted service.

  Unfortunately, far too many found themselves in this state through no fault of their own.

  But the situation was changing and even I as a novice trainee had heard the dissatisfaction among the Sekers. One measure of their unhappiness was in the use of their name. The terms, men- at- arms, soldiers, guard were used interchangeably but the mythical name, Seker, meaning warrior, had become universal among the men themselves. Their occupation was one of honor to them and nearly all conducted themselves with pride and a noble bearing.

  Without a Guild each Seker dealt with his patron on an individual basis and accordingly was at a decided disadvantage. Of course, the respectable patrons, even shop proprietors, generally took good care of their men as they needed them content and faithful, but not all did. The Sekers had long sought a Guild so that the abuses could be ended and undesirables among them weeded out. All such efforts had been rebuked by the Council of the High Caste.

  Although a bond of brotherhood transcended Houses and often even city rivalries, many Houses still sought to set Seker against Seker in the ancient ways, for economic advantage, idle amusement or to discourage unity. Over the last 20 years or so, I was told, Sekers had largely refused to engage routinely in such rivalries. The result was an uneasy, sporadic peace among the men and a slow end to traditional feuds between the Sekers of Houses.

  That was not to say harmony reined. Verbal taunts and arguments were common still. I saw more than one disagreement reach blows that night at the Four Feathers, although cooler heads fortunately prevented actual bloodshed.

  But the overriding reality was that Sekers were a fiercely proud, headstrong, often hot tempered lot. I sensed rebellion in the air as we made our way to a far table.

  We joined companions from an allied Great House, Koptos making the informal introductions. Five of us shouldered around a tiny, circular table near the dance floor. Ctesias and one of the others I had just met soon left to share wine with old friends. Koptos conversed with Bahshala, a crusty Seker of the Great House of Korinah.

  “So what is the talk among others?” Koptos asked leaning forward in his seat. I was known as one who kept his silence and no one who knew me expected me to take part in a conversation.

  “As always but even more so these days,” Bahshala said. “Zagos is recruiting more and more outsiders, foreign mercenaries, even, it is said, outlaws. There are those who insist that we must make our demands felt. If we had a Guild, an upstart such as he could not do what he does. The Guild would control entry into the Sekers and scoundrels such as those he seeks would be unacceptable. They are carrion, unfit to bear the name Seker.”

  “Lower your voice, Bahshala,” Koptos urged.

  “I fear them not. They are content to be dogs, so why should they resent being called dogs? I say it’s time to raise our demands, we have waited long enough.” Bahshala pounded his hand to the table then gulped purple wine.

  “What do you mean?” Koptos asked.

  “The Council of Guilds has voted in our favor. It is past time we put an end to our abuses. All we lack is the approval of the Council of the High Caste.” Bahshala, hot tempered, irritated and drunk, quaffed more wine and scowled at the table top in disapproval.

  “I know these things. What do you mean when you say ‘raise our demands?’” Koptos asked.

  “Just this. The merchants will knife us in the back even if the Council of the High Caste votes us a Guild, so many say to the devils with them. It’s the Council of the High Caste which bars our way. It is they we must force. I say, and many agree, that we must demand entry into the High Caste. Nothing less than full recognition as a Subcaste of Sekers. Then to the devils with the merchants and all of them. They’ll grant us the High Caste no less willingly than a Guild, so why not demand it?” Bahshala drained his bronze goblet.

  Koptos nodded in agreement. “It is time. Too long they have refused what all others have recognized. It is only fitting we be High Caste, is it not?” He laughed, looking directly at me.

  I smiled and refilled our goblets from the pitcher. I might not have been much on labor grievances but I was hell at drinking. College had not been a complete loss.

  It was apparent that the Sekers were not of a single mind, although Bahshala voiced the feelings of many as I knew from talk in the cubicles. Not all lords were as fair or generous as the Urak Rahdon. No one was willing to assume leadership, however. But from what I’d seen, the discontent was malignant and I thought the High Caste foolish to allow the situation to continue. Because the Sekers had been unjustly denied a Guild and equality with other Guilds they were nearing a state of insurrection, a mood that could be turned to advantage by an unscrupulous individual.

  But for this night I was concerned only with enjoying myself and left such talk to others. I had a new world to experience.

  Musicians, identified to me as travelers from the distant city of Rashmalan, located in the foothills of the immense Khashan Mountains to the West, were playing wild, alien music in what I can only describe as a barbaric Middle Eastern style rhythm. With dazed eyes and shiny faces, the musicians might well be drug users. Such musicians migrated from city to city, tavern to tavern, working a month or a few days at each until the end of the caravan season when they customarily returned home for the winter.

  This music was exciting and intoxicating. It stirred the blood of many Sekers and the slaves were kept busy serving the lusty needs of their patrons, both in wine and with their own young, convenient bodies. Until then I had had no idea music could be so stimulating.

  We began a fresh pitcher of wine. This was unlike the brew I’d tasted that first morning. Ctesias and his friend returned to the table refusing the offer of our serving girl with promises of their attention later. The dancers would perform shortly and all of us were eager to see them. Like the musicians they were from Rashmalan, a city noted for its particularly wanton slave dancers.

  Before the dancers arrived, however, drunken Ctesias became preoccupied, staring across the room towards a young, lone Seker, squatting against a wall apart from the crowd. Ctesias turned to Koptos who was patting the rump of the slave serving the next table and said something which sounded like “the stupid fool.”

  Koptos looked about him and saw the young man as well. He shrugged his shoulders then up ended his goblet. Ctesias became quite annoyed and as I feared swaggered belligerently over to the young Seker.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked innocently.

  “Do you not see it?” replied Koptos. I examined the Seker and at first could discern nothing out of order but upon close scrutiny saw what he meant and understood. We were about to have a fight and Ctesias had elected himself to be the one to start it.

  It was a peculiarity of the Sekers that they would rigidly enforce ancient customs that only played into the hands of the lords and lesser patrons who wished to maintain the status quo. We were about to witness just such a scene.

  By such a custom only working Sekers could bear arms within the city and all Sekers wore distinctive clothing identifying their patron. Such tunics were easily determined in the case of the Great Houses. The Lesser Houses utilized badges while shop proprietors generally provid
ed an identifying patch displayed on the left sleeve.

  The man Ctesias confronted wore no distinguishing mark.

  It could mean one of several things, none of which were good. He could be without a patron and chose to openly ignore the ban on weapons. This young man could also be an outlaw, banished from his native city and confident enough of his martial skills to bear his arms within the city walls and unwilling in a strange city to go weaponless.

  Sekers traditionally confronted such men and either slew them on the spot or took them to a magistrate who promptly banished the culprit, if he were fortunate.

  “Greetings,” Ctesias said, addressing the young man.

  The stranger took a sip of wine before replying, “Greetings.”

  “Do you perhaps have a patron and by chance your marking is missing?” inquired Ctesias.

  “I have no patron stranger,” he remarked. He looked younger than I’d first thought and more than a little nervous.

  “Then you are in violation of honored tradition concerning the bearing of arms. Are you prepared to face the consequences?” Ctesias said, slurring some of his words.

  “Yes,” came the reply.

  Koptos was not interested in this scene, his attention fastened once again on the

  buttocks of the slender slave beside us. Without comment Ctesias and the young offender moved to the vacant dance floor where each drew his bronze sword and warily faced the other. Their weapons glittered in the flickering lights and the face of each was covered with a sweaty sheen.

  Custom dictated single combat in these circumstances. Watching the two combatants circle slowly, I was puzzled at the possible motives the young man could have in selecting this course of action. Surely, he knew he had sealed his fate by appearing here with arms. Yet he had done so and in doing had come to the most popular tavern in all of Taslea, the one frequented almost exclusively by Sekers. No sane man would have done what he had, yet there he stood.

  The two men circled with the peculiar movement unique to combat, almost as though they were performing a kabuki dance. Each was in perfect balance and maneuvered with dexterity and guile; finely tempered bronze shimmered in the flickering torchlight. I heard hisses of disapproval from the crowd directed toward the young man.