The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  “I hate it when she does that,” remarked Fil with wonder.

  “Someday, I want to be that fast,” responded Jonas.

  ***

  The morning dawned with the promise of a beautiful spring day. The chilling mountain air was slowly being beaten down by the warm spring breeze flowing across the Finarthian hills. The rolling hills were astonishing. They were blanketed with pockets of budding oak trees and elms and the green meadows were specked with blooming mountain flowers. White spring beauties and indigo bluebells were spattered like paint on a green canvas.

  Jonas rode ahead of the column on one of Landon’s horses. The burly captain, Cyn, rode next to him on his huge warhorse. They were both scouting ahead and Jonas was hoping to spot a nice buck so he could bring some venison to the table.

  He still felt uncomfortable on a horse, never having had the opportunity to ride one, and Jonas was constantly shifting in the saddle as he tried to move with the horse’s gait. Cyn looked over at him; his sharp eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “You haven’t ridden much, eh?” he stated bluntly.

  Jonas sat uncomfortably with his bow resting across his lap. “No, I never have. My family was poor and we had no horses. Does it show that much?”

  Cyn smiled at Jonas. “Make sure you don’t ride too long or by morning your legs and backside will be so sore you won’t be able to walk. You have to slowly get your body used to the movement. Be firm with the animal; make sure he knows who’s in control.” Cyn’s eyes scanned the forest and grasslands around them.

  “What are you worried about?” asked Jonas, noticing Cyn’s constant vigilance.

  “Nothing in particular, but it is my job to worry. Master Landon pays me well to make sure his caravan makes it to market. There are always brigands and bandits roaming the countryside for easy prey.”

  “How long have you worked for Landon?” Jonas asked.

  “About five years now. I was a soldier in the Annurien army before I was discharged for hitting a superior officer. I went looking for work and roamed the lands for three years before I found myself in Tarsis, where I met Landon.”

  “Why did you hit your officer?” asked Jonas, curiosity getting the best of his manners.

  “I was the captain of a unit that was fighting in a skirmish against the Oshanti tribe, near the edge of the Sithgarin Desert. We were outnumbered two to one and being flanked on both sides. I ordered my men to retreat but my commanding officer, a first rank captain, ordered us to stay while he retreated with a second force. My men and I held the Oshanti back while my commanding officer retreated to safety. Finally, knowing that if we continued fighting we would all be killed, I ordered a full out retreat. I led a hundred men into battle and only fifteen came out of that disaster alive. If we had been allowed to retreat earlier, I would have saved more than half my men. My anger turned to rage as I led my wounded and exhausted men back to camp. I walked into the captain’s tent. ‘You should have told me you’d planned a suicide mission for my troops,’ I said, and then I struck him in the face as hard as I could. I broke his jaw and knocked out some of his teeth. Nothing has felt so good in all my life,” Cyn smiled, lighting up his normally stern and battle scarred face.

  “They kicked you out for that? Sounds like he had it coming,” Jonas said.

  “Assaulting a higher ranking officer is punishable by death. There must be strict discipline in an army if you want the soldiers to follow orders. I was saved from execution because this dung-eating aristocrat had made similar mistakes before. The king, King Olegaurd, pardoned me, but I was discharged from the army.”

  “Doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Not much in life is fair, young huntsman, but I believe you are learning that the hard way.”

  Jonas and Cyn rode for a while in silence, scanning the countryside for brigands and deer. Hopefully, thought Jonas, they would only find the latter.

  “So how good is Allindrian, really? I mean in comparison to other master swordsmen?” asked Jonas.

  Cyn smiled broadly at Jonas, exposing his chipped front teeth. “I have never seen her equal. Elves are notoriously great swordsmen, but I believe that Allindrian may even be better than most full-blooded elves, although I have met few elves in my life so I may be wrong. She is a Blade Singer, Jonas. Do you know what that is?”

  “No, what is it?”

  “A Blade Singer is an elf who has practiced the craft of sword fighting beyond what humans can comprehend. Very few are given the honor of going through the training, although I have no idea what that entails as it is kept a secret. They are given the name because when they fight it is like a dance, and their sword makes a singing noise as it spins through the air. They are trained in their craft for hundreds of years. When they have completed the training, they are given the rank of Blade Singer. It is a great honor, and their skills are never taught to an outsider. The sword she carries is evidence of her rank, for only a Blade Singer carries that particular sword. Some fight with two, but I have only heard tales and have never seen it with my own eyes. The weapons are crafted specifically for each warrior when they graduate through the training.”

  “Hundreds of years? How is that?” asked Jonas.

  “Elves live very long lives. I am not sure why though. I believe that a full blooded elf can live several thousand years,” responded Cyn. “Allindrian is half-elf and I’ve heard they don’t live as long, maybe several hundred years, but I’m not really sure.”

  “But she is teaching us to fight, isn’t that against the rules?”

  “No,” laughed Cyn. “She is not teaching you elven secrets but merely stances and moves that are taught to all beginning swordsmen.”

  “If they guard those secrets carefully, then why did they teach them to a half-elf? Wouldn’t they be reserved for a full blooded elf?” asked Jonas.

  “No, elves do not hold disdain for mixed bloods. It is not welcomed or sought after, but if it happens, the elven community fully accepts the half-breed, bringing them into their society. But they are not allowed to marry a pure blood or bear children, so that the elven blood will not be diluted further. If they choose to marry an outsider, then they would be banned forever from the elven lands. I do not know anything about Allindrian’s family. She keeps to herself most of the time.”

  “So why is she here, with the caravan?”

  “You like to ask questions, don’t you, boy?” Cyn commented amiably.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Jonas grinned sheepishly, “but I’ve lived in a desolate mountain cabin my whole life and this is all so fascinating. I want to learn about the lands and our history, to learn to fight and protect.” Jonas wanted to tell the warrior his whole story but decided that now was not the time. He would keep his secret hidden a little longer anyway.

  “Worry not, son. I understand. I was not being critical. The elves of Mel’un-riam send Blade Singers out from the forests of Aur-urien to gather information on the happenings of the lands around them, and to combat threats to its people. Their goal is to help maintain balance. They also act as ambassadors for the elven kingdom. They are similar to cavaliers in a sense. Cavaliers are sent by their gods to areas that need their help. Blade Singers randomly roam the lands looking for areas of intrigue, strife, or political unrest. They represent their elven queen throughout the surrounding lands. There are very few Blade Singers, as it is extremely difficult to pass the tests and the training. You should feel lucky to have met Allindrian. She befriended Landon several years ago and has been traveling with us ever since. The lands are alive with unrest now with the rumors of Malbeck’s return. There are stories of orcs and goblins amassing in the Black Lands and the Mazgar Forest. Maybe she feels she can learn a lot with us since we travel the many roads of Kraawn so frequently. I am happy her sword is with us. We are much safer because of it.”

  “You mentioned the elven queen. Do they not have a king?” asked Jonas.

  “Yes, they do. His name is Skywise Ell-Runore, protector of the
Aur-urien Forest. But my understanding is that all female elves have an affinity with their queen and that she alone directs and controls the Blade Singers. I do not know any details of elven politics. They keep to themselves mostly and I’ve only met a few in my life, and what I’m telling you is more or less conjecture that I’ve heard from others.” Cyn looked down noticing the pommel of Jonas’s hunting knife protruding from his tunic at his side. “That is quite a hunting knife for a young huntsman who lived a secluded life,” he stated bluntly.

  Jonas felt a little uncomfortable, knowing how his story might sound, but he figured the truth was always the best answer. “It’s not mine, or it wasn’t mine anyway.”

  “I gathered that. I noticed that knife earlier. I can’t see the blade but the pommel is no ordinary pommel and it is not the knife of a mere hunter. Any soldier can see that.” The sound of their horse’s hooves on the merchant road filled the pause in the conversation as Jonas chose his words.

  “It belonged to the cavalier, Airos. I found it on the battlefield by his body. It was too beautiful to leave in the snow and blood, amongst the dead.” Jonas looked up at Cyn. “Should I not have taken it? Should I give it to Landon, or Allindrian, or you? What should I do with it?” asked Jonas.

  Cyn smiled, chuckling to himself. “It’s okay, son. You did nothing wrong. It would have been a waste to leave that weapon there. Keep it, or maybe return it to the High One’s temple in Finarth, it’s up to you. I hold no misgivings if you want to keep it. Do you mind if I see it?”

  “Not at all,” replied Jonas, sliding the blade from the leather sheath and handing it to Cyn. The silver blade shone brightly in the midday sun as Cyn inspected it.

  “Amazing weapon. It looks elvish. It must be worth a dragon’s horde. I would not readily display it when we enter the city,” Cyn advised as he handed the blade back to Jonas.

  “When I met Airos, he had the High One’s mark on both his hands. My mother said it means that he was a master swordsman. Is that true?”

  “It is. I had heard of Airos before, but I never met him in my travels. He was a first rank cavalier, the highest rank in their order. I believe there are only a few first rank cavaliers in the lands of Kraawn. His death is a huge loss and it must be reported to the King in Finarth immediately. If he had a mark on both his hands that meant that he was a master swordsman with both hands, ambidextrous, very rare. He was the best, maybe even a match for a Blade Singer, as you heard Landon say.”

  “Do you have to be a cavalier to get marked as a master swordsman?” asked Jonas.

  “No, not necessarily, it depends on the mark. Some armies offer master rank marks that represent their imperial standards. They are all wizard marks, which makes them very expensive. Some kings give them out to soldiers that pass the master swordsman tests. It is very rare though; to pass the test is difficult and few have the tenacity to train as hard and long as it takes to get that mark. If a cavalier gains the mark then they are God Marked by their god’s symbol. I have only met four people with the master swordsman marks. One man is a general in the Annurien army, one was a Halyean cavalier out of Onith, in the west, and another is the master at arms in Finarth, along with Prince Nelstrom.”

  “Onith? Halyean? I have never heard of them.”

  “Onith is the capital of King Olek Landibar’s lands, far to the west, over the Tundren Mountains. Halyean is the god of sea, the main deity worshiped in the port cities that riddle the Algard coast. It is believed that Halyean is Ulren’s brother, but do not take my word for it, the gods are not my strong point.”

  “What are the tests?” asked Jonas.

  “Why?” Cyn laughed. “Do you want to become a master swordsman?”

  Jonas paused. “Yes, I do,” he said firmly.

  Cyn looked at him, shaking his head with a smile. “I see you are determined. It is a fine goal, but a very lofty one. Make sure you are prepared for failure as well as success,” he replied.

  “What do you mean?” asked Jonas.

  “They do not give the mark out freely. You must pledge your allegiance to a kingdom to get the training, or join the school for cavaliers, which is no easy task. Most young men who want to become a cavalier never even make it past the initiation phase, for there are tests of heart and courage that most men cannot pass.”

  “If that is my destiny I will pass them,” Jonas said, his tone firm and confident.

  Cyn glanced at Jonas, nodding his head in understanding. “You know young huntsman, part of me thinks that you might,” he said smiling. “Now enough talk. I feel like I’m traveling with a woman.”

  Jonas laughed. They rode on in silence, taking in the beauty of the countryside, each immersed in their own thoughts.

  ***

  On the ninth day they set up camp next to a little stream that flowed under the bridged road to meander through a flowering meadow. A large stand of trees flanked them on the left and the grassy meadow made for a soft welcoming campsite. Landon stepped down from his wagon looking for Allindrian. One of the mercenary guards saw him and rode up to him on his horse.

  “You were looking for Allindrian, sir?” asked the blond haired warrior.

  “Yes, Janson, have you seen her?”

  “She has been scouting for several hours now. She should be back soon.”

  “Very well, we’ll set up camp here.”

  “Very good, sir,” the warrior responded with a nod and rode off to help facilitate the camp’s set up. The wagons, all twenty of them, were set up in a semi-circle with the mercenaries forming the other half of the circle. Inside the perimeter were Landon and the other workers and merchants. Fil and Jonas slept in the middle with Landon.

  Fil strode up to Jonas as he was adding wood to a fire. “Hey, Jonas,” he said, casually sitting down to warm his hands by the flames.

  “Aye,” replied Jonas.

  They sat together quietly for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire as the rest of the men finished erecting the tents and getting the cooking pots going.

  “You still plan on joining the Finarthian army?” asked Jonas, breaking the silence.

  “I do,” Fil replied looking up at Jonas. “I have nothing left anyway. My choices are limited. I talked with Landon about it and he said that King Gavinsteal is a good king and that he would be a good ruler to fight for. He also said that King Kromm from Tarsis is a ruler worthy of my vows and that he is a mighty warrior king who is unbeatable in battle. But we are heading to Finarth now, so I think I will give King Gavinsteal my allegiance.” Fil tossed a stick into the fire and looked at Jonas, who was obviously in thought. “What’s on your mind, Jonas? Are you changing your mind about joining with me?”

  Jonas looked up at the question. “No…I don’t know. I was thinking,” he hesitated, “about maybe going to Annure and trying to be a cavalier.”

  Fil leaned back, startled by the response. “A cavalier? Do you know how hard it is to become a cavalier? Few are accepted and even fewer make it through the training.”

  “I know. I talked to Cyn about it. You could come with me. We could try together. I know we could do it, Fil,” Jonas said, trying to convince himself as much as Fil.

  “No, not me, I’ve never had much faith in the gods, Jonas, and I certainly have less now, considering what has happened to us.”

  “You blame the gods for what happened to us?”

  “Yes I blame them. Our entire town was massacred, Jonas, and for what?” Fil said angrily. “We did nothing to deserve this and the gods did nothing to stop it. I will not put my faith in gods who do not earn it.”

  “The gods sent Airos to help us, and he died trying to save us. He was a first rank cavalier, Fil. The gods use cavaliers like Airos for their most important missions. They tried to help us. Our town was destroyed and our families killed, but don’t forget that Airos killed a Banthra, no small feat in itself and definitely a blow to the evil that is threatening our lands. You can’t blame the gods for actions of evil men and beasts
,” Jonas said with conviction.

  “That may be, but I just don’t have the faith. I’m sorry. And faith is definitely something you need to be a cavalier. If you want to attempt to become one, then you’ll have to do it on your own.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments and then Fil stood up from the fire. “Let’s get some food”.

  ***

  That night Jonas’s sleep was plagued by nightmares, boargs were again attacking their town, men and women were being torn to pieces. He could hear the horrifying screams of his friends and family which seemed to go on endlessly. In his restless sleep he twitched and kicked next to the smoldering fire.

  Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his chest. It felt like hundreds of tiny needles stabbing his skin. He bolted upright, his left hand absently rubbing his stinging chest as he tried to calm himself down, his heavy breathing resonating in the deathly silent night.

  He glanced quickly around the camp to see if anyone had noticed him. Why was his chest stinging again? Was it another warning? He looked around trying to shake off the fogginess of sleep that wouldn’t disappear.

  Something seemed amiss. The air was heavy, almost suffocating. Everyone was sleeping soundlessly and a thick fog was slowly drifting around the camp. It was too still. The usual night sounds were absent. Animals, birds, insects; all were silent.

  He got up slowly, grabbing his hunting knife. It was dark, and clouds had moved in to cover the bright moon and stars. He could barely see anything, but the burning embers of the fires reflected a reddish glow on the immediate surroundings. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He felt sluggish and frightened; the fog was floating around them like a wraith as he moved from fire to fire noticing that everyone was sleeping, including the guards who were supposed to keep watch.

  The darkness seemed to get heavier and his body felt slow and lethargic. He felt disorientated and his mind whirled with dizziness. Then his chest burst with pain again, a stinging pain that hammered the dizziness away and he began to think clearly.