The Crimson Claymore

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  “I practice my sword four hours a day; you will not find defeating me to be easy.”

  “I like a challenge.” She smiled.

  He unsheathed his broadsword as Starlyn removed her hammer. His eyebrows rose as he saw her choice of weapon. Sh’on kept back by the door as he watched with interest.

  Etherond leaped forward with two overhead strikes, one on each side. Starlyn easily brought forth her hammer to block both strikes. Raising his eyebrows again, he sidestepped her and slashed at her side with a quick strike. Starlyn shifted her weight to her right and slammed her hammer on the incoming blade on her left. The broadsword pierced the matt at the ground, and she leaped toward him to strike. As he saw her, he let go and rolled backward across the mats. She leaped for him with a strike, but he ducked and tripped her. While she fell, he locked both his arms around her elbow, causing her to drop her hammer.

  He stood with her hammer in his hand and a smirk on his face. She leaped away as he slammed the hammer where she just was. Her speed outmatched his, and he had to chase after her. She dived to the ground and grabbed his broadsword in her hands. He bashed the hammer at her in an array of flows from the battle-scarf form. His attacks were barely deflected and dodged by her. She was impressed with his skill with both the sword and hammer.

  His anger showed, and his attacks became fiercer. The hammer seemed to shimmer with each strike, but each one was deflected with an even faster defensive blade. Starlyn held the hilt tight and slammed the sword down hard on top of her, hammer causing his entire body to shake from the force. She leaped into the air and climbed up her hammer and his arm until she sat on his shoulder with his broadsword’s blade pressed against his neck. He dropped her hammer, and the ringing of metal echoed through the room.

  “I win,” Starlyn whispered.

  Chapter 29

  Searon sat at a fine dark-stained oak table in front of a board game. The sound of a rocking chair squeaking in the background echoed in his ears. Karceoles sat in the rocking chair, puffing on his pipe as he watched the two of them play Crossguards. Noraes lived in a stronghold just outside of the main city so that he wasn’t bombarded by traffic. It was well protected, as he was the duke of the city, but his residence wasn’t overwhelmingly large. After all, he was just a duke, not a prince or a king.

  Searon observed the large castle behind brother’s stronghold. The duke was to protect the king of the land, and so the stronghold was placed in front of the castle in order to protect it. There were a handful of other strongholds that defended against invasion as well as the overwhelming moat that surrounded the entire gray stone castle. Most of the strongholds were made of sturdy wood that made it hard to siege. Only the castle was made of thick stone with a drawbridge and moat surrounding it. It was the size of at least three of the strongholds that surrounded it.

  Noraes’s stronghold appeared to be the strongest and sturdiest compared to the other four, but it was still dull in comparison to the castle. A large wall was built around the perimeter of the stronghold, and it consisted of trees standing vertical, tied together with strong twine. Peasants and serfs maintained the grounds as well as a few servants of the king while Noraes kept to his duties from within. There were only a few bedrooms inside the structure that were designed primarily for guests of the house rather than serfs or servants. Searon stayed in one while Karceoles stayed in the other. Xython didn’t wish to stay in a room under Noraes and instead chose to stay in the city at an inn.

  Cinnamon and clove mixed together in an exotic aroma inside the small study as Searon moved an archer into position on the board. He gently puffed on his cedar pipe with the borrowed tobacco from Karceoles. Noraes didn’t care for clove spice inside his own tobacco and rather preferred a strong unflavored blend to go with his coffee drink that brewed hot in a ceramic mug. Noraes claimed to have found the beans on his travels and took to grinding them down and brewing them with hot water, much like he’d do with tea. Searon noticed the flavor was much different than tea and a lot stronger. It seemed to bring awareness to him with each sip. The effect was reversed with Noraes, where it relaxed his normally hyper personality.

  Searon didn’t much care for the flavor of the black strong coffee and chose to add a small amount of milk and honey to it. It sweetened it slightly to make the taste not as strong, though the strong effect didn’t seem to affect Noraes or Karceoles, who had also taken a liking to the brew. He lazily rolled the dice two times, winning each turn and in place defeating one of Noraes’s pikesmen. His brother scowled as he removed the piece from the board before moving his last crossbowman in position against Searon’s only swordsman. His roll failed against Searon’s, and the swordsman lived.

  “You two have been playing for neigh a week,” Karceoles bickered.

  “Do you wish to have my support or not, old man?” Noraes asked.

  Karceoles shifted in the rocking chair and began puffing on his pipe once more.

  Searon finished his second cup of coffee and pushed it away. Within minutes, a woman appeared to clear the mug. She wore a simple slate tunic with a purse at her belt. She had deep-black hair, coppery skin, and bright brown eyes. After curtseying to both Noraes and Searon, she made her way back to the hot coffee for a refill.

  “No thank you,” Searon said.

  She turned back to look questionably at both Searon and her master as she froze in place.

  “Tea, please, if you don’t mind.”

  She nodded and began to set a kettle of water over the fire in the wood stove. Searon watched her carefully, admiring her hard work in cooking, cleaning, and other household chores she provided for his brother. She was the only one who had her own room in the stronghold, and for a long while Searon suspected both her and Noraes to be involved.

  When the kettle began to whistle, she removed it carefully and poured a mug full with a bag of black tea. She returned to Searon and handed him the mug before disappearing to do more tasks around the home. He spooned a bit of honey to stir into his drink before returning his gaze to his brother.

  “What is her name?”

  “Sophie. She is the housemaid.”

  Searon could smell the aroma of chicken and vegetables boiling in a large pot above a fire that Sophie was beginning to cook for their supper. He wondered if his brother appreciated her as he should. It had been many years since Searon had anybody tend to him, and he missed it dearly.

  “When I first came in here, I was wondering how you kept this place so organized,” Searon smiled.

  “Come now, Brother, we both know I’m more organized than you.”

  “Organized in chaos. Admit it: without Sophie, this place would be a mess between pipe tobacco and coffee.”

  Noraes only smiled before returning his gaze to the board game. He wore blue slacks without shoes and a long-sleeve silk shirt with pearl buttons. Searon wore less noble attire with a long sleeve crimson cotton shirt with silver buttons and black breeches. Both were only slightly similar in appearance but it was their nature that they were defined as brothers rather than appearance.

  “It may or may not be true. Since she is here, we will not have a chance to know the outcome of my existence without her.”

  Noraes rustled his hands through his medium-dark-blond hair, and he pondered a move on the board. After what seemed like a struggle of internal debate, he finally moved his general across the board. Searon noticed the move to conquer his archer and quickly shifted them away. With a few more moves between the two of them, Searon was able to position a cavalry piece to protect his archers.

  Noraes scratched his brow just below his rounded brown birthmark. He had no choice but to fight Searon’s cavalry even though he had no desire to. After a series of seven rolls, Searon inflicted three damage points to his brother’s general. Three hits killed his cavalry, and the leftover roll was won by Noraes’s chance turn with his general. It left the general with only one life, making Noraes quickly back it away from battle. However, what he didn’t se
e was that Searon had lined up, expecting the retreat, and he moved his general piece forward to meet his brother’s. After only two rolls, Searon’s general defeated his brother’s and created a remarkable lead for Searon.

  The game still wasn’t over, as the only way to truly win is to defeat all your opponent’s pieces while keeping your general alive. However, for Noraes, there was no chance to win. Instead, he would have to keep the chaos of his leaderless men in check to create a stalemate like a game of tic-tac-toe without a straight line. In order for him to accomplish it, he needed to focus all of his attacks on Searon’s general. Searon knew this and was swift to remove his general from the chaos of battle on the board. In many ways it was like a real battle, if your leader is down, the only way to not surrender is to take the opposing general.

  “It seems you do still know how to command a force.”

  “Just like throwing a spear at a boar; no matter how long it has been, the talent will never diminish.”

  “Is your childish game over at last?” Karceoles asked, rising to his feet.

  “It is still far from over. Searon still has a lot of my pieces to kill.”

  “Can we put these childish matters aside for now and discuss plans?”

  “I still haven’t decided whether to help you yet, old man. Searon has not won the game yet.”

  “Biscuits, you two. Well, do you at least have a map of Calthoria I may look at so I may ponder what I am to do?”

  “It took you long enough to ask,” Noraes said.

  Noraes smiled and pointed to a rustic bookshelf stained dark mahogany and filled with books. Many of the books had leather or cloth covers and were arranged by color rather than what was inside. The shelf second to the top held books with blue binders, and the colors descended to red, green, black, and gold. At the top on the highest shelf were scrolls arranged by color of ribbons in the same manor except from left to right.

  “It is but one of my many bookshelves, however, the largest scroll with a black ribbon is a well-crafted map of all of Calthoria.”

  Karceoles nodded and slowly walked to the beautiful bookshelf, admiring many of the books as his fingers grazed them gently. He puffed on his pipe as he inspected several of the titles before snatching the scroll from the top shelf. After opening it carefully, he wandered over to a medium rounded table and sat down, spreading the map out.

  He gasped as he studied it. “Where did you get this?”

  Noraes raised an eyebrow as he studied the old man. “During my travels, I came across an odd man with long blond hair, intriguing me with it. He claimed it was the most accurate map and wanted a hefty amount of gold for it. As I am a lover of literature and scrolls, I was more than content to haggle over the price only slightly before purchasing it.” He ran a hand across his chin, stroking it gently. “Why do you ask?”

  “This is more than a simple map of Calthoria. It is a magical map of the land that changes as things happen. I thought he destroyed the last one of these to prevent it from falling into unwanted hands…it seems he is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Instead of destroying it, he gives it to the one unlikely person that would so happen to help us on our quest where we’re in need of such a map.”

  “Who is this person you speak of?”

  “A mage. Both he and I created this map decades ago. It was actually he who came to me to request my knowledge to create such a map. He wanted to help the kheshlars in some war, and I was reluctant to oblige, but I trust him.”

  “I met a mage? That is interesting. I knew I could sense something odd about him.”

  “With practice and study, you could learn how to harness your energy where you’ll be able to sense who has magic and how much they possess.”

  Noraes smiled. “I do not have the time for all of that, old man, I am the duke here, remember? A duke that some people wish to make king. I’m afraid any free time I have is spent relaxing.”

  “Or playing childish games.”

  “As I said…relaxing.”

  The sound of soft droplets of water began to clatter against the thin tin roof on Noraes’s sturdy wooden stronghold. Before long, the rain grew louder and seemed to pound against the roof as thick crackles of thunder echoed throughout the room. Searon looked up from the game and frowned before moving a crossbowman.

  “Supper is ready,” Sophie called out from the dinner table across the room.

  Karceoles rushed to be the first one seated despite having been farther away than both Searon and Noraes. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. The table was set with fresh loaves of bread, chicken vegetable stew, butter, honey, milk, and a strange tan cream. They seemed to eat like kings for the week that they stayed with Noraes. He was the duke after all, but even he didn’t eat so luxurious except on occasion. Having Searon back home was such an occasion, as he proclaimed.

  “What is this?” Karceoles asked, pointing his dull silver butter knife toward the tan-colored cream.

  Noraes smiled as he sat down. “I do recall your fascination for peanuts, and so I took the liberty of having my chefs create a peanut cream for your bread. They have only recently come up with the idea by mixing it with vegetable oils. Try it with a little bit of the apricot jam.”

  “There’s apricot jam?”

  Noraes laughed as he slid a bowl with a small spoon from behind the butter. Karceoles swiftly snatched it and sliced a piece of bread. Most of the meal was eaten in silence except for the wizard’s loud chewing. Searon was only able to try a small portion of the peanut cream before Karceoles finished it. The food was excellent, with a fair amount of leftovers that Noraes had Sophie deliver to the serfs and peasants after dishing herself a plateful.

  A sudden knock at the door shifted Noraes’s attention for a moment. He got to his feet and wiped his mouth with a thin white cloth before setting it back on the counter. Sophie opened the door and bowed to a young man wearing bronze chain mail with a long scabbard at his hip. Rain frantically bounced from the chains on his armor, and his short red hair was soaked to the top of his head. He smiled and curtsied low to Sophie before standing up straight and winking at her. She giggled and moved aside for him to enter.

  “Lord Noraes, I have come upon request,” he said, holding out a parchment.

  “Very good, Phoenix. I would like you to meet my brother.”

  Searon stepped forward and extended his hand, which Phoenix took immediately. A smile came across the man’s broad lips as he scratched at his red goatee.

  “A pleasure to be sure, my lord; your brother has spoken high of you over the years since his return.”

  “His return? Where has he been?”

  “I’m afraid that is something he will not say.” Phoenix grinned as he watched Noraes from the corner of his eye.

  “It is not of importance where I went off to. What is important is that I’m here now, and I am your commander.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Phoenix bowed.

  “I want you to be a captain under my brother’s army. He is in need of help, and who would we be not to assist him?”

  “We would be ill-suited hosts indeed, my lord; what is the mission?”

  “His intention is to remove the threat of the daerions…and another creature called the draeyks from this land. To cleanse them from being a threat.”

  “Excellent, my lord, I have much desired to be a part of such a party.”

  “It will not be easy, and your responsibly will at least double from the small command you have under me. Do you think you are capable?”

  “Yes, my lord. I am more than capable, my lord. I will not fail you.”

  “Good, see that you don’t. Not only will you be in charge of ten thousand of our men, but you will be advising the spies and scouts as well as communications so that if you are needed elsewhere you will be well informed.”

  “Ten thousand?” Phoenix whispered along with Searon and Karceoles.

  “Will it be enough?” Noraes asked.

  Searo
n stood straight, making sure his back didn’t slouch in the slightest. “It will be plenty, my Brother, and I thank you for such a generous offer.”

  “Brother, I know these draeyks are top in your mind because of what they did to your family, but I only give you this many because I trust that you will return if we send word. If we are attacked, we will need assistance. I have left enough for us to defend, but if too strong of a force appears, I will need you.”

  “I understand.”

  “I have spoken with the king, his advisors, and the council. They all agree that this threat of the daerions is strong enough to rally an alliance to oppose them. They were also intrigued that you have a wizard with you and kheshlarn support.”

  “Only one kheshlar is in support of our cause.”

  “Shh, they don’t know that. Besides, I know you’ll find a way to turn that around.”

  Searon smiled.

  Phoenix stepped forward. “A wizard?”

  Karceoles smiled and stuck out his hand, “I am Karceoles the Wise. I am a wizard graced with the task of keeping young Searon here alive.”

  Phoenix shakily put his hand in the wizard’s. “You’re not going to turn me into a toad, are you?”

  “A toad? Butter and salt, my boy; if you upset me that much, I will turn you into a slug and sprinkle salt on you.”

  Phoenix gulped, but Karceoles only laughed. “Come, young Phoenix, let me show you our plans on this map.”

  “So you have decided to help?” Searon asked in a whisper.

  “Don’t think you’ve got off so easy my brother. You still have to finish beating me. Besides, it will be near another week before all the forces will be ready to march. They are coming all from all over the province. Would you like to hear your numbers?”

  “Surely, I would, so the battle tactics in my head can begin.”

  Noraes smiled. “Two thousand pikes, two thousand long spears, two thousand swords, one thousand maces, one thousand crossbows, one thousand cavalry, five hundred archers, and five hundred javelins.”