The Blackguard (Book 2)

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  “Yes, nephew?” Luthian rose with his glass of wine in hand.

  “I will never use it on the Daezun.” Alador’s tone held an edge of promise as he turned and strode off, not bothering to hear if his uncle had a parting comment.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alador had been unable to sleep that night; the conflicting, distressing information he’d had just learned from Luthian had swirled around in his head incessantly, keeping him awake. He left the High Minister’s home before Luthian had even risen for the day, lost in thought. On some level, Alador had known that Henrick must have somehow been a part of all this, or the man wouldn’t have been able to warn him about the Blackguard and Luthian’s plans. But the way his uncle had just laid the information out there had shocked Alador. He wanted to believe in his father, but much of what Luthian had said rang with honesty. There was some comfort in knowing that the best lies were told with truth mixed in, but Alador couldn’t confront Henrick about it until the man returned from his rounds, and he wasn’t due back for some time.

  Alador made his way slowly down to the third tier, his mind whirling; he was so lost in thought that he had to set a poor old woman upright after almost knocking her to the ground. “Sorry,” he murmured, already falling back into his thoughts. The morning was still new, so the streets were quiet and nearly empty. Aside from the stray person like the old lady going about their business, the only traffic was the refuse carts that were still hauling garbage off the tiers in the faint, early morning light. The shopkeepers weren’t even out to set up their shops for the day yet.

  Alador was glad for the quiet streets as he made his way back to the caverns – it allowed him to think. There was one thing he did not doubt: his uncle was not his friend. Luthian had made it clear that his role of doting uncle had come to an end. For a man who claimed to have such patience, he hadn’t lasted long in the part of a loving family member. Alador had wanted to kill Luthian. By the gods, he still wanted to kill him. Thanks to Luthian, Alador felt like he’d been cast adrift yet again, feeling totally alone and questioning everything around him.

  Alador returned to the caverns in a foul mood. Keelee wouldn’t be back until after his first classes, but that was for the best – Alador didn’t want to take his anger out on her. He threw himself into his studies to take his mind off Luthian and Henrick, particularly when it was time for weapons practice. Alador had advanced to the second ring since his arrival, having mastered basic skills.

  Seeing his mood, his instructor, Toman, had chosen to pair off with him today rather than assign Alador to another student. At least he wouldn’t be forced to soften his blows. Near the end of the class, the instructor had just decided to let Alador spar rather than practice a particular skill. “I don’t know where your head is, but it’s clear you have something you need to vent.” Toman saluted Alador and dropped down into a readied stance. “Come on, show me your best and see if you can disarm me.”

  Alador, still seething with the anger he’d been unable to resolve, didn’t need to be asked twice. He danced forward daringly to strike out at the man before him. Steel clashed against steel with far more force than the ring usually heard echoing loudly about them. Those who were in the same ring paused their eyes drawn to Alador and Toman.

  The instructor eyed Alador with surprise as the two spun from one another, readying for the next blow. “Anger is any swordsman’s downfall, Alador. You know this.” He barely had the words out before Alador had once again leapt forward, moving swiftly with three alternating blows. Toman blocked them each with practiced efficiency, though the effort would have left any other lagging behind in the face of Alador's fervor.

  Alador’s next strike sliced the air with an audible hiss before it met with Toman’s blade in another sharp clang. The swords continued to connect again and again, bringing all other practices to a stop around them. Soon a silent ring had formed around their circle. Alador would not relent, his anger fueling blow after blow. He was aware of only one thing, and that was the man before him. The fact they were using practice blades would help nothing if any of his blows connected.

  Toman was a renowned fighter in the Blackguard, and few had bested him. To see him fight in more than coaching practices was a rare event, and as the two battled on, more and more joined the circle to watch. Toman’s skill was being tested in the face of Alador’s seemingly unflagging energy. Alador's vehement blows struck again and again against Toman's blade, a frenzied tempest of whirling and slashing metal. The wiser, more experienced man kept waiting for Alador to tire and lower his weapon, yet still Alador pressed on. Twice, Toman tried to lift a hand to end the duel, but each time he’d been forced to defend himself before he could stop the fight. Alador was lost in his rage – he wanted to kill something, and this man before him had allowed him to release that rage he’d been holding since leaving Smallbrook.

  The two men circled around each other, Toman sweating with the effort as he sought a way to disarm his pupil. His expression was one of pure concentration as he tried a questing blow at the lad's hand or a swirling riposte to leverage the sword away. Neither man spoke nor did they seem to notice the growing throng of students around them. They had eyes for each other only.

  Alador lunged in an attempt to plunge his sword deep into his adversary; Toman barely stepped out of the way, bringing his sword up from underneath and forcing it farther from his side. He immediately countered trying to knock Alador in the head with the flat of the blade. Alador ducked and backpedaled, bringing his sword back up to the ready. His eyes were sharp with anger, hurt, and the desire to kill. Toman must have recognized the look – his stance changed in response, preparing to defend his life rather than against the possibility of a broken bone.

  Alador came hard and fast. His sword flashed left and right, and the swords rang out with each cut. The blades snapped with sound as the two spun about one another. Toman pivoted right and tried again to knock out the man standing before him, but Alador was ready for him. His sword caught Toman’s, and he twisted so that its dull point raked across the older fighter’s bracer, turning Toman's similar attempt to disarm Alador earlier against him.

  The instructor’s sword slipped from his grip and slid across the sand with a hiss. Silence reigned at that moment, the crowd catching their breath in the unnatural stillness. Time seemed to slow. Toman dove for his sword, but Alador beat him to it; his foot was on the hilt just as Toman reached it. Alador raised his sword to drive it into the man’s heart when a large figure flung itself toward him, tackling him over.

  “Stop! Stop, it’s just practice! Get your senses, you idiot!” Flame yelled as they went crashing to the ground.

  Alador was so stunned by the tackle and by this third person that, for a moment, he acted on pure instinct, reflexively grappling with Flame, who’d grabbed Alador’s sword hand. Flame was joined almost immediately by Jon, and the two of them managed to hold Alador down with some difficulty.

  “Alador, damn it man, it’s me, Jon,” he hissed. “Snap out of it!” Alador’s struggling eased a little, and Jon looked at Flame. “What did you say to piss him off this badly?”

  Alador stopped moving, staring up in confusion at the two men sitting on his chest who seemed to be arguing. He blinked at them, panting from the exertion of the fight.

  “Me?” Flame looked over in surprise, both his hands now holding down Alador’s sword hand. “They were already like that when I came around.”

  “Get off me,” Alador hissed. “Flame didn’t say shite. I just…lost my temper for a moment.”

  Flame eyed Jon who nodded and the two of them slowly let Alador go as Flame answered him. “Remind me never to make you angry,” Flame answered. For once, his tone lacked its usual playful banter.

  Alador pushed himself to his feet, sheathing his sword, and looked around for his instructor. Toman had retrieved his sword sometime after Alador had been tackled, and stood facing him. Alador immediately saluted him. “I apologize – you’re
right. My temper is my downfall.” He waited unsure of what would befall him for attempting to kill his mentor.

  Toman just saluted him back with a look of pride. “Tomorrow, you are to report to the advanced ring.” Then he pivoted and strode away, the silent ring of men about them parting to make way for the weapon master.

  Alador watched him go, unsure of whether he had just been praised or punished. He suspected that, without anger, he was going to be soundly beat for a long while. Then again, he had just disarmed one of the best fighters on the fields. The uproar slowly built around them as a flood of guards surrounded him, congratulating him and commenting on the fight. Alador was overwhelmed by slaps and calls.

  When the crowd began to filter out, Flame came up and slapped him on the back. “Well, that ended better than I expected. Well fought. I honestly thought for a moment that you meant to kill him. I would have stayed out of it otherwise.” Flame nudged him in the ribs. “Can’t have my richest friend getting strung up or put to the sword.”

  Jon glanced coldly at Flame. “He was trying to kill him, you fool. It’s a good thing you tackled him, or he would have. I wasn’t close enough to reach him in time.”

  Alador glanced at Jon, not answering. He knew that if Flame hadn’t interrupted him, Alador would have badly injured or killed Toman, even though he’d been using a practice blade. Flame looked at Alador for a long moment. “I hope you aren’t that stupid?”

  “I was angry,” Alador conceded, liking that thought better than stupid.

  “If I killed everything that made me angry,” Jon stated solemnly, “there would be a trail of bodies.”

  Alador glanced at Jon. “Somehow, I don’t doubt this.” Alador glanced about as the circle continued to break up. Some were still approaching and slapping him on the back as a way of congratulations before moving on to dinner. “Flame, can you go check and make sure Keelee made it safe? She was uttering strange fears before half-day and I need to speak to Jon.”

  Flame’s face immediately brightened as he put a reassuring hand on Alador’s shoulder. “I’ll do one better; I’ll take her to dinner.” Flame sauntered off while Alador just shook his head.

  “For as much time as he spends with your body servant, I hope you’re charging him for a share of her services.” Jon watched the flamboyant guardsman as he pushed and bantered his way into the caverns.

  “Charge him? What do you mean?” Alador sat down on a bench and grabbed up a rag to wipe his face, then pulled out his sword. He’d nicked it some – time to dull it some more so that the jagged edges wouldn’t cause undue injury.

  “You know, to pay for part of what she costs you.” Jon sat down beside him.

  Alador looked from the sword to his friend. “I don’t pay her,” Alador answered. “I…she just asked me to go with me.” He eyed Jon in confusion.

  “Body servants don’t just come with you – they’re paid companions. If you aren’t paying her, then someone else is,” Jon pointed out logically.

  Alador’s eyes narrowed. Maybe she was spying on him for his uncle. Had the plea to be saved from his uncle’s designs been just an act? “I have told Flame and Keelee that what they do is their business,” he bit out a bit harder than he’d intended.

  “Yes, I can see you are totally unaffected,” Jon conceded sarcastically.

  Alador flashed him a cold look as he drove his sword back into the sheath. “I am not yet calm from fighting,” he pointed out. “Be nice.”

  “I am being nice. You’re still alive,” Jon fired back.

  Alador cracked a grin on that answer. “All right, point taken. I didn’t ask you to stay back so we could speak of Keelee.” He glanced about. The fields were almost empty now, and the bench he’d chosen had no cover for eavesdroppers, so he felt safe to speak. “Jon, what are your thoughts on people being sold to another person for…whatever purpose?” Alador looked at him. “Not like Keelee, who chose that life, but against their will?”

  “You mean slavery?” Jon asked curiously. “I don’t take kindly to the idea. If you need to have a man do a task, there are plenty willing to work just for a roof or some food. No need to take away their freedom.”

  “I have come to learn that there’s a…small situation regarding slavery on the third tier, and I want to put an end to it. I was wondering if you’d be interested in assisting me?” Alador spoke the thought as a question; if he couldn’t trust Jon, then he might as well die because he didn’t want to be in a world where no one was trustworthy. After his confrontation with Luthian, Alador realized was running out of people he could turn to for help.

  “When do we leave?” Jon asked with utmost seriousness.

  Alador cracked another smile. “I was hoping you would say that. I want to use my next extra half-day, but there’s a problem with that – it’s not your half-day.”

  “I have a couple earned passes. I can use one,” Jon answered. “I never had a use for them before, so I’ve just been storing them away.”

  “Don’t you have anyone out in the city that you like to visit?” Alador didn’t get earned passes; he already had two half-days. He did earn kitchen duty every now and then, but usually that was for tardiness.

  “Nope. I don’t make friends,” Jon pointed out. “Well, except you, but you’re strange.”

  “Well, thanks,” Alador said sarcastically. “I will get you a pass to the fourth tier for dinner. My father left some for me in case I ever wanted to bring someone with me. I think it only fair to warn you, to take out this place of slavery is to act against the High Minister.”

  This clearly gave Jon pause for a long time. “You mean to act against your own uncle?” Jon looked over at Alador.

  “I do,” Alador answered quietly. “I also intend to one day see my uncle unseated.” His eyes were unfocused for a moment, realizing that he really did plan to one day see his uncle off the tiers.

  Jon stared at Alador for a long moment, then stuck out his hand. “I’m in.”

  The rest of the week went uneventfully. Alador didn’t want to find out if Keelee was being paid by Luthian to keep an eye on him, so he’d been avoiding her under the pretense of his foul mood. He knew it was likely, so he didn’t share much, even though she was obviously hurt by his rebuffs. Alador had even slapped her questing hands one night, making it clear that her services were not desired and telling her that he’d let her know when they were. Her intake of breath behind him had made him cringe, but she had rolled away and left him alone, which was what he wanted.

  When at last Alador could escape the caverns for his father’s home, he left both excited and fearful. He was finally going to have a taste of freedom, but he also intended to kill a man tonight. He’d been raised that killing was wrong; all his life he’d had to fight the urge to take Trelmar’s life until the day he’d finally given in. But Alador hadn’t planned that – he’d been angry and vengeful. Today he wouldn’t be acting in anger or vengeance but in justice. A part of Alador had come to believe that sometimes you just couldn’t reform or correct evil; sometimes you just had to kill it. The fact that he was okay with this concerned him. He wondered for a brief moment about what Mesiande would think of him now, and decided that this was something he’d never tell her…That is if she ever spoke to him again. The thought twisted in him and he forced himself back to this evening.

  Jon had told Alador that he needed to see to a few things first and that he’d meet Alador later. Alador, meanwhile, wondered how wise it was for the three of them to go waltzing into this breeding den of Luthian’s, but the very thought of women being forced to bear children against their will was against everything he believed about small ones. They should have lives of happiness and joy while they were young. Alador doubted that anything connected to Luthian had any sort of happiness or joy.

  Alador arrived at his father’s house and spoke the words of entry; the door unlocked for him and he slipped inside. His father had spoken the truth about the house shutting down while he was away;
Alador’s boots echoed loudly as he moved down the hall toward the library. Even the furniture had been covered with large sheets of linen. He moved into the library and started a fire using flint and tinder; he couldn’t use magic to do it. Flame had teased him about it, pointing out Alador’s water sphere. “Just puts that spark right out.” Alador could hear the words in Flame’s jubilant tone of voice. He smiled as the spark caught tinder and began to spread.

  Alador sat back on his heels, watching the flames of the fire. He’d thought about asking Flame to join them, but he wanted Keelee safe, and Flame was apparently very good at keeping the others from bothering her. And, if Keelee was to be believed, his friend always treated her like a proper lady. Alador couldn’t tell if that were actually true or if Keelee were just trying to spare any feelings he might have. He put another log in the fire absently.

  “Intending to make sure everyone knows you’re here?” Sordith spoke softly behind Alador.

  Alador had been edgy since his fight with Toman and shot up with his boot dagger in his hand. Sordith caught that hand even as Alador spun about. “Easy, lad. It’s just me.”

  “Sordith, you can’t sneak up on people like that. It’ll get you killed,” Alador spat out in frustration.

  Sordith just grinned at Alador, letting go of his hand. “It usually gets others killed,” he pointed out.

  Alador took a deep breath. “Still, don’t do that.” He sheathed his dagger, moving to the table and pouring them both a short drink. “Are we still on for tonight?” He asked handing a glass over.

  Sordith took the glass filled with fine smalgut and sniffed it. “Yes, though…” Sordith paused and pointed to the glass in Alador’s hand. “Wait, I thought you didn’t drink?” He took the shot, winced at the burn, and smiled with satisfaction. “That’s the stuff.”

  “I used to not do a lot of things,” Alador answered softly and tipped the glass back. The burning sensation was somehow calming. He set the glass back down.