Legend of the Swords: War

by Jason Derleth

“What?” asked Ryan.

  “I was just thinking…” he smiled. “What if you beat him, in front of the group?”

  Ryan grinned. “It would make him pretty mad, I think.” He shook his head, frowning. “But he’s much better than I am.”

  “You got a point on him,” Kevin reasoned.

  “That doesn’t make me better. It makes me lucky,” Ryan countered.

  “But you’re getting better. He doesn’t really practice.” Kevin nodded sharply. “I watched him, this time. He doesn’t protect his legs very well, especially on his shield side. Plus you’re faster than him.”

  Ryan pursed his lips, thinking it through. “He’s still better than me.”

  Kevin was silent for a few seconds. “What if he wasn’t?” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re practicing a lot now, so you’re going to keep getting better…but what Gregory said back in the camp was true: you get better faster if you fight people who are better than you. You’re the best squire in the camp—” At this Ryan smiled sheepishly. “—But what if you fought two of us?”

  Ryan’s eyebrows went up. “Huh?”

  “You’d have to be faster, smarter, and stronger than both of us at the same time.” He lifted one corner of his mouth sardonically. “Not that you’re not already better than two of us, but I think you’ll get better faster if you have to fight two. We could make you into the best swordsman the Kingdom’s ever seen, I think.”

  “You’re serious.”

  His features hardened. “Yes, I am. Look, the Triols are going to try to kill us on the battlefield, right? We’re on the same side, but Armand doesn’t seem to think so. He needs to be taken down a notch, and we’ll still have you on our side when we get to the battlefield.” He shook his head, slowly, thoughtfully. “I’m sure that Brian would help. We’d have to practice a little beyond the camp, though, we don’t want Armand to know…” He picked up the water skin. “Let’s go talk to Brian about it.”

  Ryan followed along behind Kevin, shaking his head disbelievingly—but there was a hard glint in his eye.

  Scouts

  The next evening found the three squires standing around a sparring circle a little bit away from the camp.

  “How does this work?” Ryan asked, looking at the two swords, the two shields.

  Kevin answered. “We attack, you defend. If you knock us both out, you get a point. If we score on you, we get a point.” He looked over at Brian and raised his eyebrows.

  “And if we get two points, you lose that match,” Brian finished.

  “Huh,” grunted Ryan. “Doesn’t seem fair. I should get a point for each of you.”

  Kevin laughed. “Oh, right, because Armand’s going to be fair.”

  Ryan nodded. “I suppose that’s about right.”

  “It would be good to beat him, though, wouldn’t it?” Kevin asked.

  “Yes. It would be,” Ryan stated flatly, the hard glint in his eye again.

  Brian stepped into the circle, and saluted. Kevin came in next to him, standing shoulder to shoulder. He and Ryan saluted simultaneously, and they all fell into en guard position.

  Kevin attacked first, and Ryan blocked. As he counterattacked, Brian landed a blow on Ryan’s side.

  “Point!” Brian called.

  They squared off again. This time, Brian attacked. Ryan blocked the sword swing easily, but did not counterattack. When Kevin attacked in turn, Ryan blocked his attack, and flung his sword out towards Brian. Brian blocked easily, and Kevin managed to tap Ryan on the shoulder.

  “Point, and match!” Kevin called, stepping back from Ryan. “You’re faster than this, Ryan, what’s going on?”

  “I dunno, maybe it’s hard because there are two of you?” Ryan said, eyebrows raised sarcastically.

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “Come on, you can do better than that. En guard!” He saluted and fell into position. Ryan’s eyes narrowed.

  Again, Kevin attacked first, and Ryan easily blocked. When Brian attacked, though, Ryan stepped to the side. While Brian recovered from his miss, Ryan attacked across his own body to poke Brian in the side with his sword.

  Kevin wasn’t standing still, though, and he attacked Ryan’s exposed side. Ryan squirmed, but wasn’t quite able to get out of the way.

  “Point!” Kevin called. “That was better, though, at least you got Brian.”

  “Again,” Ryan rasped. Kevin raised his eyebrows, but joined Brian in a salute.

  Ryan attacked first this time, He hit Kevin’s sword so hard that it dropped out of his hand, and Kevin was left defenseless. Ryan bounced his sword off of Kevin’s body and used the momentum to block Brian’s already-started blow. He pressed in toward Brian, who was forced to back up. It was no difficult matter for Ryan to score, with Kevin out and Brian on the defensive.

  “Point!” called Ryan, grinning in triumph. “Again,” he said, forcefully.

  Kevin fell into en guard next to Brian, eyebrows raised.

  Ryan exploded as soon as they were ready, a whirling dervish of sword and shield. There wasn’t anything the other two could do; they backed up, defending as best as they could, but it was over quickly despite their best efforts.

  “Point, and match!” Ryan said, still grinning. “Again.”

  “I think I’m getting tired,” Kevin said, still taken aback at Ryan’s animal energy. “I think I’d—”

  Ryan cut him off. “Again.”

  Kevin shrugged, and fell into en guard.

  * * *

  It was over an hour before the light really failed. Ryan had won five or six battles in a row before his two friends were able to hold him off. They had finally been forced to expend as much energy as Ryan, to move as fast as they could…and they found that he still won more than a third of the battles. All of their clothes were soaking with sweat.

  To Kevin’s relief, as soon as Ryan gave in and let them stop practicing, he went back to being normal—the ‘bloodlust’ was gone.

  “This is going to be great!” Ryan said, on the way back. “I think I might be able to beat him.” He turned to Kevin. “Do you think we could find another person?”

  Kevin grinned. “I think you’re too enthusiastic. We’re still able to beat you more than half the time. You don’t need a third opponent yet.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I guess you’re right, Kevin.”

  “I don’t know how you do it, Ryan,” Brian said. “I was moving as fast as I’ve ever moved, and you still took at least one of us out most times.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing. I don’t know about you, Kevin, but I learned a lot about how to fight the knights never taught us.”

  “Well,” Kevin said, slowly, “I dunno. He pushed us to move faster—I know I’ve never tried to move that fast before. But I think watching Ryan showed me more than speed. I mean, the way he was parrying both of us with one swipe of his sword…but then he would move around one of us. He was constantly moving, so that one of us was between him and the other.” He nodded, deep in thought. “I think battle must be something like that, right? I mean, there’ll be a lot of people all around us, all trying to kill us…who says they won’t team up in twos or even threes to attack?”

  The other two nodded as the group arrived at the edge of camp.

  Kevin put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Ryan, I think you should make sure to lose to Armand for the next couple of battles," he said. “Study his style, look for weaknesses. It’ll be best to catch him off guard in a week or two, when you ‘suddenly get better’ overnight.”

  Ryan’s eyes opened a bit wider as he considered, then narrowed. The hard glint came back, and he nodded once. The three broke up and walked back to their tents in the cooling evening air.

  It was a long time before Ryan was able to sleep that night.

  * * *

  Another day, another two-on-one sparring match.

  Ryan held his hand out to Brian, who was on the ground. Brian grinned, but his eyes were narrow with pain as he let Ryan pull him to standing. He rubbe
d his sore leg.

  “You got me pretty good. Is Kevin conscious yet?” Brian said, gesturing.

  “Yes. I’ve been conscious for a while—I just didn’t want Ryan cracking me on the head again.” They all laughed.

  “Brian, you’ve got to move faster.” Ryan reached out and grabbed Brian’s hands. “Instead of moving the tip of your sword, move the hilt.” He pushed Brian’s hands to the side, keeping the sword pointing in the same direction. “Catch my sword on your cross-guard, that’s what it’s there for. It’s a whole lot faster than trying to get the end of your blade down.”

  “Huh,” Brian grunted. “Hadn’t thought of that.” He walked over next to the tree where they had laid their water skin. After taking a drink, he handed the skin to Ryan.

  “That’s why we’re still ‘helping’ you, Ryan—it’s helping us more than you, now.” Kevin pushed himself to his feet. “We almost never beat you any more.” He came over and reached his hand out for the water skin.

  “That’s for sure,” Brian said, nodding in agreement. “We beat you, what, two days ago?”

  Ryan looked at them both. “I think that was the last time.” He shrugged. “Do you think I’m ready to beat Armand?”

  Kevin laughed. “Oh, yes. Watching you lose to him last night was painful.” He put his arm on Ryan’s shoulders. “It was like watching you move in slow motion.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know how you have that much control, to slow down like that.”

  They took a few moments to relax before returning to camp. The dusk was coming later every night, and they were near the edge of the forest now, so there were fewer trees to block the light as well. Gregory had said that they were nearing the front lines, it would be less than three more days’ worth of travel.

  Ryan gestured for the water again. As he lifted his head to drink, there was a whistling through the air, and an arrow sprouted from the tree next to them. They whipped their heads around in unison. There were two Triol riders less than a hundred feet away. Both of them had small riding bows.

  “Get down!” yelled Ryan, as they all fell to the ground. The two arrows whizzed over the squires’ heads.

  The two riders laughed, and turned their horses away. As they galloped off, Ryan quickly stood up.

  “We’ve got to go tell Gregory.” His lips pressed together in a grim frown. “They were scouts, we can expect at least a raiding force within the hour. Maybe more.” He reached out and pulled the arrow out of the tree.

  * * *

  Their voices preceded them into camp, followed closely by their running forms.

  “What is it, boy?” Armand was first to reach them.

  “Scouts saw us practicing. They fired at us.” Armand reached out to take the arrow from Ryan’s outstretched hand.

  Gregory ran up behind Armand. “What’s going on?” Armand held the arrow up. Gregory’s eyes widened. He turned, and started bellowing orders to the men to pack their camp and prepare for battle.

  Armand’s raised eyebrows knitted together. “What were you doing so far away from camp.” It was more of a demand than a question.

  Brian came to the rescue. “Practicing, Sir knight.”

  “You have been … practicing … a lot,” Armand said, with a silky smoothness. He smiled, showing all of his teeth. “Perhaps you three can lead the first charge, then? Since, if you had been closer to the camp, those scouts wouldn’t have gotten away, and we would have had much more time to prepare.”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, Sir Knight.” He looked directly into Armand’s eyes. “Whatever my knight wishes. You are, after all, taking extra time to train me, nearly every evening lately. I feel that you have prepared me adequately for anything.”

  “Good, boy.” He gestured towards their tents. “You had better hurry, you have a lot of our things to pack, and you must help me with my armor.” He strode off towards Gregory.

  Kevin whistled. “I don’t know, Ryan…”

  “Don’t worry, Gregory won’t let it happen,” Ryan said, quietly. “Armand was bluffing.” Ryan looked worried, though, even while he was speaking. “But I don’t want to give him any excuses—I’ve got to go get our camp packed.”

  The three squires ran towards their separate tents.

  * * *

  Ryan waited until everything else was done before he buckled on his real sword. It was different than the practice sword. Heavier, and broader.

  I wonder how much that will affect how I fight? He wondered. Too late to practice with it now. He shrugged, and shot the sword home into its sheath at his left hip.

  Everything was packed and loaded on the horse. Only the fire pit remained as evidence that they had camped here, and Gregory was breaking that up with his feet. Two of the squires were sweeping the campsite with tree branches they had cut down.

  The sky was growing darker in the east. Even in the height of summer, the sun only stayed up for so long.

  Perhaps they won’t attack? Ryan wondered. No, I’m sure they will. The Moon’s full, and the Triols never knowingly give up an advantage. He smiled. Plus, Gregory’s sure they’ll attack, despite the darkness—and he’s never been wrong yet.

  He heard the sound of distant galloping hooves, and nodded.

  Gregory’s neck spun as he turned to yell orders. “Everyone mounted, NOW! Fall back to the rear, and form ranks!”

  They leapt onto their horses, and formed ranks. Armand gestured expansively to Ryan, making room in the middle of the front rank.

  “After you … squire," he said.

  Ryan sighed to himself as he took his place in the front of the troop. The sound of distant galloping stopped—the Triols had slowed their horses to a walk as they came off the road, toward the camp.

  “What’s going on, Armand?” Gregory’s voice was icy.

  “Ryan has been training extra hard.” Sarcasm dripped off his voice. “I thought I’d give him the opportunity to show us the fruits of his labors.”

  “Ryan, get back into the back rank,” Gregory commanded.

  “Gregory, you’re interfering in the training of my squire again.”

  “Not now, Armand. Tomorrow—if we see a tomorrow—we can discuss this. Tonight…”

  Around two dozen Triol knights—about as many knights as Gregory had with him—rode into the clearing, torches held high. They threw the torches down around the edges of the clearing, and drew their swords.

  “Tonight, we fight.” He looked back at the rest of his group. “We’re going to need more light before this is done,” Gregory said. “Knights, light your torches and add them to the ring. Squires, stay back unless you see a good opportunity to help.”

  The knights lit and threw their torches around the camp, being careful to light any brush on fire.

  Ryan studied the Triols. The orange glow from under them, coupled with the pale blue of the Moon’s light, made them look more … evil, more demonic, than normal.

  The Triols rode forward, and the kingdom knights drew their swords and did the same. In the center of the clearing, the two forces faced each other.

  “Well met, knights.” The Triol’s accent was good—he was understandable, but his syllables were clipped short. “We come to kill you, but I have ancestors from your kingdom. I am loath to fight kinsmen. My name is Culdre; my father was Drenar, son of Narman. He was bastard son of Duke Elrin, of your ‘kingdom.’ Do any of you hail from Elrin?”

  William raised his hand. “I am William, next in line for the Duchy of Elrin.” There was wonder in his voice.

  The Triol Culdre smiled, and rode forward, as did William. They shook hands. Culdre pulled a small item out of his saddlebag and handed it to William.

  “Take this small gift, and I beg of you, please do not enter battle. To be fair, I will ask one of my men to return to our camp.”

  Ryan looked at Kevin and Brian, eyes raised. “I didn’t know they were so … honorable,” he whispered.

  Brian nodded. “My father has said many time
s that it is their sense of honor that brings them to fight us, over and over. He thinks that one of our nobles insulted one of their nobles, and they’ve been warring with us ever since.”

  Ryan shook his head. “Couldn’t we just apologize?”

  Brian drew his mouth into a thin-lipped smile. “Nobody knows what the insult was, it was too long ago.”

  “It’s not about the insult, at least not any more,” Kevin said. “Gregory says it’s about land resources. Stuff like those flowers we harvested at the river—the Triols want that.”

  Culdre waved to one of his men, who turned and rode off.

  William shrugged, reached into his boot, and pulled out a knife still in its sheath. He turned the hilt towards Culdre. “Sir Culdre. This knife was my father’s, and his father’s before him. I would be pleased if you would accept it as my gift to you, my distant kin.”

  Culdre bowed, accepting the knife. “Thank you, William.” He smiled smoothly. “May I suggest that you ride down the road? It will be difficult not to engage us as we slaughter your comrades with our superior skill.”

  William smiled in return. “I believe I will ride down the road a bit, Culdre, but not for the reason that you state.” He shook his head. “I detest seeing the remotest of my kin die, even if it is for the good of the kingdom. And so I will retire.” He laughed shortly. “I hope you understand if I do not wish you luck, cousin.”

  Culdre laughed easily. “Be well, cousin.”

  As William rode off, Culdre turned to the rest of the knights.

  “You foolish knights can surrender now, or taste our hot-forged steel. What is your choice?”

  Armand spat on the ground.

  Culdre smiled. “So be it. Let us fight.” He spurred his horse forward, lifting his sword.

  Armand charged forward to engage Culdre, roaring like a lion. The two clashed together, swords flailing, each looking for a gap in the other’s defenses.

  Soon, the clearing was filled with the sounds of fighting. The squires stood off to the side, nervously watching the battle ebb and flow.