The Blackguard (Book 2)

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  “Careful Alador.” One of the women at the table grinned at him. “His name isn’t just for his hair. He has a way with the ladies and leaves a trail of broken, flamed-out hearts in his wake.”

  Flame looked wounded and placed a hand over his heart in mock pain. “It is not my fault they all start talking about settling down and small ones.”

  “Yes, but is it their fault that you find another the moment you creep from their bed?” she fired back. The whole table broke out in laughter.

  “Hey, a man needs to taste the full menu before he settles on his favorite dish.” Flame drew his chin up with playful arrogance. There was a consensus of groans at the table.

  “I believe what I hear them saying is that even if you were to find a favored dish, you’d keep tasting.” Alador grinned at Flame.

  “I have yet to find a favored dish,” Flame defended. “I mean, there have been some worth a second bite, but if they start planning a menu, I’m gone. Members of the Blackguard really don’t have that option – we move around too much. Besides, I don’t want a passel of small ones.” Flame looked truly put out at that thought.

  Alador could not help but grin. In some ways, Flame reminded him a little of Gregor. “I will introduce her. After that, whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, is up to her. I will swear to you, though, that if you touch her without her permission, we will have trouble.” Alador motioned between himself and Flame with his fork.

  “I understand. Don’t take to men forcing themselves where they are not wanted.” Flame agreed. “After dinner then?” He looked at Alador hopefully.

  Alador nodded. “After dinner. Now let me eat something before we have to go.”

  Flame patted him on the back and set back to his own tray. The conversation at the table turned to classes for the day and gossip about who was sneaking into whose rooms at night. Alador listened, but his thoughts drifted to last night. Maybe if Keelee could find someone else wanting a body slave, he wouldn’t have to worry about repeats of last night. He’d promised Mesiande to be her housemate, and though he hadn’t broken any vows in spending his night in the arms of another, a part of him felt like he’d betrayed her.

  When everyone started moving to put up trays, Alador did, as well. He suspected it would take some time to get the rhythm of life here. Every village had a tempo that it danced to, and this was, in its own way, a village. It just happened to have been built in a cave, which was a little unnerving, but still. Alador made his way out to the practice ground, glad to be outside again.

  It wasn’t raining at the moment and the sun shone; the plants glistened with the remnants of yesterday’s storm. He and the other students were given time to adjust from the dim light of the caves before being called to practice. Flame helped direct Alador to the beginning lessons before moving off on his own. Apparently, half of those that resided in the caves practiced swordplay in the morning and half in the evening. There were circles of guards in black leather everywhere.

  He made his way to the beginners’ circle and was paired up with another guardsman that had just arrived. Well, guardswoman was more accurate. She didn’t speak to Alador when they were tasked together; neither did the instructor introduce Alador. He figured that the instructor was overseeing so many pairs that niceties weren’t really important. They were tasked with practicing cuts and parries, taking turns being offensive and defensive.

  Alador found he was much better at parrying than he was at making the different types of cuts. He, unfortunately, favored horizontal cuts, so the woman across from him, learned to parry him easily. Alador did get praised on his ability to stay on the balls of his feet and pivot, though, and on his good stance. When at last the bell rang for the day’s end, Alador was exhausted. He now knew exactly what the armor smith had meant when she said he was out of shape. His arms and thighs hurt horribly along with the places he had been hit without armor when he would miss a parry.

  Alador sat for a time, just catching his breath. His partner moved off to dinner, her motions just as slow and tired as his. It had been a good workout, but he was exhausted. His headache had diminished some with his last meal, but it still ached dully. He looked around; this particular practice yard was fenced with a stone wall to give it definition. The inside portion was hard dirt and here and there it was darkened by the spill of blood from minor mishaps. He got up to move out the practice yard when a man with cold eyes and a hard face stepped into his path. Alador immediately sensed that this man was looking for trouble.

  “So, this is the spoiled Guldalian bastard,” the brown-haired man said, spitting after the last word to emphasize his contempt.

  “I apologize if I’ve offended you somehow, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” Alador was not armored and even practice blades could do harm if there were intent…Not counting the fact that everyone here knew something about magic.

  “How about you and I get a little extra practice in before we go to dinner? I find myself in need of a taste of privileged blood.” The man drew his sword casually.

  Alador held up his hands. “I don't want a fight.” He eyed the man who’d clearly come with the intent to do him harm. Despite his words, Alador moved to square himself against this threat.

  The man's lips curled up into a mocking sneer. “Too bad.” He gave a small cry out as he lunged toward Alador.

  Alador dove out of the way at the last moment, the tip of the man’s blade whistling by his ear. Freezing in a moment of panic, Alador barely managed to get his blade from his sheath in time to block the block the wide arc toward his chest with the flat of his own blade. Alador pushed up against the blade, stumbling back and trying to get out from such a vulnerable position.

  The man gave a low chuckle as he circled his blade through the air, making it sing in its movement. “Seems the spoiled bastard has a bit of fight in him yet!” Alador managed to find balance on the balls of his feet, giving note that the blade the man wielded was razor sharp and not a practice blade. His eyes went wide, watching the blade like it was a viper. Fear pumped through Alador’s veins, and his heart raced. The man intended to kill Alador.

  The man lunged at him once again. Sudden adrenaline lent Alador strength, and parries and blocks came hard and fast. He had no magic for an offensive spell; he back-peddled, trying to put some distance between him and his assailant. It was to no avail – Alador was going to die here. He glanced around frantically. He was going to die here, and he had no idea what he’d done to this man. Why was no one stopping this? Why had no one noticed? Alador’s breathing was labored, and the wicked grin on his opponent’s face made it clear that the man was toying with him.

  The blows of their blades were wearing down what little strength Alador had left. He felt the stone wall at his back, its sharp edge biting as he fell against it. His terror began to build as the man waved his sword in a testing arc, forcing Alador to follow its lethal point. The man’s mocking grin confirmed how little effort he spent besting Alador. The man tensed as if to come in for his final attempt, and Alador’s sword point snapped up despite the burning fire in his arms. He closed his eyes as if to shield this powerful final blow from reaching him, but the sharp sound of steel meeting steel didn’t come. Instead, Alador only heard the sound of a blade falling to the ground. Alador’s eyes snapped open and he dropped back into a defensive position, his sword arm trembling. His assailant was staggering back with his hands to his throat, gasping; his sword lay before Alador on the ground. What trick was this?

  Alador spotted Jon at that moment, the death mage stood calmly, a hand before him, pointed at Alador’s attacker. “Enough Maxis. This mage is under my protection. I suggest you pass that on to your little pack. I assure you that I will return to tenfold any harm that comes to him.”

  Alador stood up, wide-eyed. His sword felt heavy in his hands and the cold sweat from his palms had made it difficult to hold. The swordsman before him stood gasping for breath, slowly slipping to his knees. Alador looked at Jon wit
h concern. “Jon stop! You’re killing him!” Alador didn’t move, his swords still wavering in his hand, unsure of what would happen if he stopped Jon from doing…whatever he was doing.

  “Why? He was going to kill you,” Jon snarled out. He didn’t move, only continued to focus on the man on his knees, this Maxis.

  “Please Jon. I don’t need someone’s death on my hands my first day here,” Alador wheezed out, hard-pressed to catch his own breath. His leg pulsed with pain, and he realized he was wounded; he glanced down to see blood running down his leg.

  “You are kinder than I, Alador.” Jon’s voice was cold as he let go of whatever he was doing and the man dropped to his hands and knees, gasping raggedly for air. Jon walked forward and kicked Maxis’ blade out of reach. “Stay down, or I will kill you, right now,” he hissed. He beckoned Alador to move out of the ring, keeping an eye on his would-be killer. Before turning on his heel to follow Alador, he snarled down at the man, “Tell your boss to do his own dirty work.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun was setting, casting an orange light over Alador as he limped into the caverns. He remained silent for the moment; it took all of his concentration just to keep moving. His body was screaming in pain, and his leg burned – Alador noticed that his pants were soaked with his own blood, now dripping into his boot.

  Jon quickly caught up to him and matched step as he looked Alador over. “I am taking you to the healers,” he stated in the solemn tone he seemed to favor. He offered his arm, which Alador leaned on gratefully.

  “I would rather go to my room…Keelee can bandage it. It’s not deep. The fewer who know about this, the better,” Alador answered, his voice as shaky as his body.

  “Are you certain? You could just say that you were injured in practice. Such things do happen,” Jon pointed out.

  Alador sighed. “I’ve only been here a day. I would really rather avoid more notice.” He added a soft mutter to himself, “Not that this seems to be working.” Between Keelee, his uncle, and now this new danger in Maxis, it was almost as bad as it had been with Trelmar and his cronies. Alador’s fear settled, and the realization of how close he’d come to death filled his thoughts. His heart still pounded as hard as the day the elder declared that Alador would be hanged.

  “As you wish.” Jon led Alador through the quiet halls to his room. No one else dallied around the halls – everyone was off to dinner. Alador’s wound and exhaustion forced them to move slowly.

  Keelee wasn’t there when they entered the room. Alador sighed softly; of course she was elsewhere the one time he needed her. He limped to a chair and slid into it, trying not to jar the wound in his legs. Alador obviously needed that armor if he was going to have to worry about someone actually trying to kill him. The wound wasn’t bleeding heavily, at least, but it was still bleeding.

  Jon didn’t speak as he moved to Alador’s wardrobe. He frowned at the amount of women’s dresses within it, glancing to Alador with a look that spoke volumes. Alador’s expression turned sheepish, and he shook his head. Jon pushed aside the dresses and rummaged about until he found and withdrew a small box.

  “What’s that?” Alador asked curiously, wondering how Jon even knew what he was looking for when it was Alador’s wardrobe he was searching through.

  “Healing kit,” Jon stated. “Drop your pants and let’s get that wound bound up.”

  Alador was in too much pain to point out that he wasn’t wearing anything under his pants – he’d dressed swiftly and hadn’t bothered with leggings. He slid out of them, knowing he’d need to change anyway. Jon put a salve over the open slit in his upper thigh that burned but seemed to slow the bleeding, then quickly wrapped and tied linen over it. When he was done, Alador pulled on another pair of loose linen pants. Neither spoke, just seeing to what needed to be done. When at last Alador was dressed, he turned to Jon.

  “You told this Maxis to tell his boss to see to his own dirty work. That means you know who he works for…who is it?” Alador looked at Jon, who was putting the healing supplies neatly back into the box.

  Jon slowly closed the box before turning to look at Alador, the silence between them palpable as he decided how much he was willing to disclose. “I would be more curious to know what you did to anger this man. Maxis has been known to do dirty work for the Trench Lord.”

  “Oh.” Alador slowly sat on his bed. “I don’t know, to be honest. I met him at a dinner my uncle held when I arrived. When we were introduced, it was clear he’d already hated me before we ever even spoke.”

  “You are going to have to be careful, Alador. Only your uncle himself would be a greater enemy in Silverport.” Jon frowned, considering. “I won’t be able to watch out for you except in the practice fields. I know Maxis has at least four he holds close, but whether they would take action or work for Aorun, I don’t know.” Jon’s tone was even and thoughtful.

  “Great, only been here a day and I already have to watch my back.” Alador sighed.

  “Don’t think you’re unique Alador. Every one of us has to watch our backs – most of us just have to watch out for your uncle.” Jon’s voice was solemn as he delivered this news.

  Alador wanted to dispute that. He wanted to rail against being painted by his bloodline, but he knew that Jon spoke truth if his father had been honest. Would he always be cursed by others for the blood that ran in his veins? “Sorry.”

  “I believe a man once told me that you can’t help the sphere of magic you were given by the Gods, or by the dragons. I would say this is true of the bloodline he falls from. It’s not always true that the apple falls short of the tree. Sometimes fate carries it far away,” Jon offered.

  Alador smiled slowly. “A wise man, that.”

  Jon gave a half smile back. “That remains to be seen. He seems to be courting death.”

  Alador chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” He still felt exhausted, but he was less unsteady now.

  Jon nodded to his weapons rack. “Might want to change out your blade when you aren’t in practice, just in case.”

  Alador paused for a long moment. He would have preferred his bow, but it wasn’t very useful or practical in the close confines of the caves. He sighed and switched out the weapons, sliding the sharper blade into his sheath. “Okay, let’s go find some food.”

  “You seem rather driven by food.” Jon led the way out of Alador’s room.

  “My father tells me that so many Lerdenians are ghostly and white because they don’t provide enough energy to their bodies, and you can minimize the damage if you eat a lot. I really don’t want to end up all pale and with white hair,” Alador pointed out.

  “I haven’t heard that. We’ve been told that power is fueled by a core of magic within us and the elements around us.” Jon glanced at Alador curiously.

  “Well, I tend to believe my father. His hair is as black as night and he looks far younger and healthier than my uncle.” Alador shrugged. “Besides, it makes a good excuse to eat. I kind of like food.”

  Jon smirked slightly and led the way into the dining room. The two of them got trays and Jon, after considering a moment, added a second scoop as he led the way through the line. Alador just smiled and followed him. The two set about eating, not speaking much; they were comfortable enough that neither had to foster conversation. Jon had apparently withdrawn as deep into himself as Alador had into his own thoughts about his first day and near death.

  Both were startled out of their distracted eating by the sudden, boisterous appearance of Flame. “Well, you obviously don’t mind breaking the mold on your first day.” He nodded to Jon. “I mean, most people don’t make friends right off with a black mage. No offense, Jon.”

  Jon nodded back. “None taken. I would have to care about what you think to take offense.” He looked up and met Flame’s gaze with a serious demeanor.

  Alador bit back the laughter that boiled up within him, both at Jon’s comment and the look on Flame’
s face. Flame clearly had no idea what to make of that remark.

  “Thanks… I guess.” Flame smirked at Jon before moving back to his original purpose. “You took forever to come to dinner. You promised to introduce me to Keelee tonight,” he reminded Alador with boyish excitement.

  Alador nodded. “I had to stop by my room before coming to the hall. She wasn’t there, probably finding her own meal wherever she does that. I’m about done, meet me at the entrance hall in a few minutes. I have something to ask Jon here first.”

  Flame looked at Jon curiously, but then nodded. “Of course. I’ll grab a pint and wait for you at the nearest table there.” He sauntered off.

  “Is that man always so cheerful?” Alador watched Flame saying hi and offering his arm as he walked through the hall.

  “He’s well-liked and generous,” Jon answered in his strange, solemn monotone. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Because he’s well-liked, or because he’s generous?” Alador looked back at Jon.

  Jon picked up his mug, answering just before he took a drink. “Both.” He sat the mug back down and spoke again. “What did you need to ask?”

  Alador decided that Jon might be just a bit paranoid – just because someone had slips and was nice didn’t mean he shouldn’t like them. “I don’t have any spells to protect myself. How can I study ahead?” Alador asked. “I need something till my sword skills are faster and stronger.”

  “Got your sphere spell book?” Jon asked.

  “No, I left it in the room when we were bandaging my wound.” Alador stated finishing the last bite on his tray and mopping up the juice with a piece of bread.

  “The first section for simple spells, easy for your sphere. The second part has the more useful and defensive spells, and the third section has your offensive spells,” Jon said.

  Alador knew where he would be studying tonight. “Thank you. I’d best get Flame introduced to Keelee before he bursts at the seams.” He picked up his tray. “I didn’t thank you for…well, for saving my life.” He eyed Jon with serious gratitude.