The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  “My name is Taleen. I’m a cavalier to Helikon.”

  “I am Jonas Kanrene. I thank you again for saving us. You’re from the lands west of the Tundrens?” Jonas asked, remembering from his classes at Finarth that Helikon was what the people in the west called Bandris, god of war, honor, and courage.

  “I am. I am from Osrigard along the Ronith River.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of it. Where is that?”

  “It is directly west of here, over the Tundrens, through the Tundren plains and across the Ronith grasslands. It took me eight weeks to get here.”

  “Why have you traveled so far?” Jonas asked. “You are a long way from home.”

  Taleen looked at him with interest. “For one who wields the power of a cavalier, you know very little about them.”

  “I told you, I was not trained to be a cavalier. The mark and powers just…sort of…appeared,” Jonas added lamely.

  “God magic does not just appear, young warrior, but that discussion can wait. Cavaliers travel to where their god directs them, and their god’s bidding becomes apparent as they near their destination.”

  “You traveled eight weeks because your god directed you here?”

  “Yes. Helikon needed me here…to help you, it would appear.”

  “You traveled that distance just to help me?”

  “I did. Something is happening, Jonas, that you might not be aware of. That demon that your friend killed has been destroying cavaliers all throughout Kraawn.”

  “What! How many?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think there are many left. Maybe none at all, except for you and me.”

  “But I’m not even a cavalier.”

  “I don’t know how to explain that, Jonas, but Helikon brought me here to save you, of that I am certain. As you must be aware, there is a growing source of evil in the lands, an evil using great magic to destroy the cavaliers. I believe that the source of this evil is paving a path for invasion. A second Great War is upon us. And it’s up to you and me to help win this war.”

  Jonas looked into her determined eyes. “I will not shy from that task, Taleen, but I need to go to Annure to get some answers.”

  Taleen stared at Jonas for a few seconds before looking into the flickering flames of the fire. The dancing fire bathed Taleen’s features in an orange glow, and Jonas couldn’t pull his gaze from her stunning face. She looked back into his eyes. “I agree. You need to get some answers. It may be that Annure will have them. I will travel with you. But for now, get some rest. I will watch over your friend until you regain your strength.”

  Jonas had forgotten how tired he was, and at the mere mention of the word rest his eyelids began to drop heavily. He wrapped the blanket firmly around himself and let his eyes close in exhaustion. “Thank you again, Taleen,” Jonas muttered as his tired body shut down completely and he fell into a deep sleep.

  “Thank Helikon, young cavalier who is not a cavalier,” Taleen replied as she watched the young man fall asleep.

  ***

  It took most of the day for the Finarthian army to mobilize, but the king insisted that they begin their march immediately, even if it would be dark in several hours. Fil had never seen anything like it. The entire city was a bustle of activity as the army packed up supply wagons and the officers prepared their modrigs.

  It was hard to believe that Prince Moredin was actually marching an army towards them. The prince ruled a large lawless city called Stonestep which was located along the trade routes that snaked through the dangerous Sithgarin desert. Stonestep was no friend to Finarth, and it was commonly known that the lands there were used as a staging base for brigands and raiders to poke their thieving fingers into Annure and Finarth. But Prince Moredin had never openly raised a sword against Finarth, nor had he ever allied himself so obviously with tribes from the Sithgarin. Why would he do so now? What was causing this rash behavior? Everyone was asking the same questions as they prepared for war.

  There were two ludus’s in a modrig and two modrigs in an akron, an akron being a thousand men. Ludus’s were further split into five pandars; each pandar was led by a lieutenant.

  Finarth had roughly twenty akrons, not including the Finarthian Knights, which were considered a separate unit. Each modrig was led by a corporal and each akron was led by a third rank general. It was a hierarchy that seemed to run smoothly. Next in rank came the second rank generals that each controlled five akrons. Following that was the first rank general, or high commander, who was in charge of the entire Finarthian army, including the knights. The king, of course, commanded them all. Fil had never met the high commander, but he had learned from Tanus, the corporal of their modrig, that his name was Volnos and he was an aging veteran of many campaigns.

  Fil marched in line next to Calden, his friend and fellow knight apprentice. There were no other apprentices in their modrig or even their akron. They had been spread out to different units. It was organized that way for a reason, forcing the young men to interact with different people and establishing relationships with soldiers from various backgrounds.

  Each of the soldiers wore a hardened leather breastplate lined with circles of steel over a shirt of heavy chain mail. Their forearms, thighs and shins were protected by leather reinforced with steel plates. Each footman soldier was issued a short infantry sword, stabbing spear, and a steel shield, all designed for formation fighting.

  Fil gripped his spear with anxiety, wondering if the rest of the men felt the way he did, eager, yet frightened at the same time. He scanned the men around him and saw no hesitation in them. They were mostly middle aged veterans who had fought and survived many battles, which was why his akron was a front line unit. Calden, marching next to him, gave a sidelong glance at Fil.

  “I can’t believe we're going to war,” Calden muttered to Fil. “Are you nervous?”

  “I am,” replied Fil. “But this is what I want. I want to avenge my family.”

  “You think that Moredin’s army is led by the same evil forces that destroyed your town?”

  “I don’t know, but Tanus told us that the king thinks this army is being backed by Banrith Castle. And if that is so, then they are somehow linked to the Banthra that attacked my village. I will get my revenge, Calden,” Fil said fiercely. He gripped his spear so tightly that his thick knuckles turned white.

  “I hope you do, my friend, and I will be right beside you.”

  Fil smiled at Calden, taking comfort in his friend’s presence. Fil’s mind wandered to Jonas, and wondered how he was faring. He missed him dearly, but he realized that their paths were now different, and that Jonas’s calling would take him to different places. It saddened Fil that he might not see his friend again. What if he died in this battle? What if Jonas was already dead? It was a frightening thought, but certainly a possibility considering the enemies that were hunting him.

  When Fil had heard that cavaliers were being killed all throughout Kraawn he immediately feared for his friend. He even went to Shyann’s temple in town to get some guidance. The priests couldn’t really help him. All they said was the normal religious rhetoric. That it would be Shyann’s will whether he lived or died, that type of thing. Fil couldn’t understand that belief system and that was why he had such little faith in the gods. Was it just a game to them? What right did they have to decide someone’s fate? Who were they to decide who lived and died? And did they really have that power anyway? Fil did not deny their existence, just whether or not the gods lived up to most people’s expectations. Fil didn’t think so. He often wondered whether or not they deserved his allegiance at all.

  The sound of a galloping horse brought Fil out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and saw a heavy warhorse gallop by. The dust from the road billowed around them as the warrior quickly rode down the column.

  It was Tanus. Fil recognized his blue billowing cape and his unique silver helm. Fil had learned that years ago Tanus had taken a small group of warriors to
a tiny farming settlement on the outskirts of their lands, almost to the edge of the Tundrens. The village had been raided by a small pack of boargs and the leader of Tanus’s akron had sent him there when he was a young officer. The story went that his entire pandar, which was fifty men, had been slain, except for him, and that he had killed the last of the boargs by himself, his men dead around him. Men tell the tale as if he had been surrounded by snarling boargs, and in berserker frenzy, Tanus had killed them all. No one really knew for sure what happened as he never spoke about it.

  Tanus then cut the horns from the pack leader and had the king’s blacksmith fashion a helm from them so he would never forget the men that died. The helm was crafted from bright silver steel and etched upon it were beautiful, intricate patterns. The great curved horns gave him a menacing look and when he flipped down his visor, all you could see was the dark slits for his eyes and two massive horns curving outward. It was said that it had cost him a season’s wages to have it crafted and when Fil looked upon it he could believe it. It was truly an amazing piece of armor, more fit for royalty than a common soldier.

  Fil shuddered every time he saw Tanus’s helm. The horns created a flood of memories that he would just as soon forget. But Tanus was an honorable man, and a great warrior, and Fil was happy to be serving under him.

  ***

  Jonas awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. He stood up, and looked around the camp. Kiln was still wrapped in blankets and unconscious. Jonas inspected his own wounds quickly and was surprised to feel only slight scarring on his face and arms where the demon had clawed him. The painful wounds were almost totally healed. The only reminders left of the horrible battle were the lines of pink tissue where the wounds had been closed. He lifted up his tunic and saw a similar mark on his hip. There was a round spot above his pelvic bone that was pink and tender to the touch, but other than that he felt fine.

  Jonas looked around for his armor and weapons. He found them lying on the ground near the smoldering fire. Lifting up the chest plate he inspected the damage. He frowned with curiosity at what he saw. The silver chest plate was glistening as if it had been recently oiled. The silver embossed symbol of Shyann sparkled in the morning sun, and there was not a mark on it. Jonas then picked up his helm to see what damage the demon’s tail had done to it. It was perfect, no dents or scratches, and it shone with brilliance.

  “How can this be?” Jonas whispered to himself.

  “And you say you’re not a cavalier,” came a soft voice behind him. Jonas turned around to see Taleen ride up on a magnificent horse. He hadn’t even heard the animal as it trotted through the tall grass. The large animal’s chestnut coat glistened in the sun, accentuating its powerful muscular body.

  It reminded Jonas of Airos’s steed. The horse wore plated steel on its chest and sparkling chain mail draped its massive sides. A black leather saddle shone as if it were just crafted and brought from the tanners shop.

  Taleen was just as beautiful. She wore fitted black breeches and laced up riding boots. Her shins and thighs were covered with bands of silver steel, each of which was carved with intricate runes. A thick sword belt of black leather circled her thin waist and a silver cuirass covered her chest. The center of her cuirass had a carved symbol of Helikon, a double bladed battle axe. Intricate runes and symbols wrapped around her molded chest plate, forming perfectly to her feminine but strong body. Her muscular arms were bare except for black and silver wrist guards. A sturdy long bow was tucked in its sheath that hung from the side of the horse. Everything about the pair was perfect. They both glistened and sparkled as if they had recently been groomed by some invisible servant.

  “I don’t understand,” Jonas said, taken back by their magnificent appearance, trying not to stare at Taleen’s beauty.

  “A cavalier’s armor, steed, and gear are always clean and polished. No matter how much damage my equipment takes, I wake up in the morning to find it perfect and clean. Look at yourself, Jonas.”

  Jonas looked down at himself, his eyes growing wide as he noticed his own clothing and armor in the same pristine condition. His breeches and tunic were perfectly clean, with no blood or rips anywhere. His chain mail shirt sparkled and his boots were free of any dirt from their hard travels.

  “But this has never happened before,” he said in amazement.

  “It’s not my place to know why, but it seems you are gradually being given the powers of a cavalier. That much is clear,” Taleen stated.

  “I have come to understand that. The problem is I’ve never had the opportunity to talk to another cavalier, so I don’t know what powers I may have, or may gain.”

  “Now you do,” she smiled. “But first, let us see to your friend.”

  Taleen dismounted and strode through the tall grass to Kiln. Jonas couldn’t help but follow her swaying hips as she walked. He briefly felt ashamed at himself that he was looking at her in that way while his friend was lying unconscious nearby. He quickly moved by her as she knelt next to Kiln.

  “How is he?” Jonas asked.

  “He’ll be fine. He should have died but he is a strong one. I need your help, Jonas, if we are going to heal him enough to travel anytime soon. I don’t have the power to heal wounds as serious as he sustained. Do you feel up to it?”

  “I’ve only healed one person before and I don’t really know how I did it, but yes, I will do whatever needs to be done to help Kiln.”

  Taleen’s expression changed briefly at the mention of Kiln’s name. “Did you say his name is Kiln?”

  “I did. Do you know him?”

  “Kiln from Finarth?” Taleen asked, a hint of wonder in her voice.

  “Yes, the same. Do you know him?” Jonas asked again, a little confused at her reaction.

  “Only of him. He is a legend even in the West. He was once a great general who fell from grace, as the story goes.”

  “He still is a great general, and he did not fall from grace,” Jonas replied with a little more edge to his voice than he wanted.

  “Relax, Jonas. I meant no insult. I am only repeating what I’ve heard.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that he’s been such a great friend to me over the last few years. He is good man.”

  “And a strong one, no doubt. It is said that he cannot be beaten with a blade. No wonder he was able to hold his own against that demon.”

  “Now that is one rumor that is true. He is incredible to watch.” Jonas smiled as he thought of his friend and all the combat training they had done.

  “Well, let us restore him to his talents. All you need do is hold my hand and call upon Shyann as you did when you last used her healing power. The power will be there, you just need to bring it forth. I want you to channel her energy into me and I will take care of the rest. Don’t stop the flow of magic until I release your hand. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” replied Jonas.

  Taleen smiled, reaching out for his hand. Her touch sent a tingle down his spine. Her hands were calloused but warm, and the way her thumb lay on his thigh made Jonas’s face flush. Concentrate on healing, you idiot, Jonas told himself.

  It took him a moment but he was finally able to concentrate on the task. He fervently prayed to Shyann, asking her for her help in healing Kiln. Instantly he felt the familiar heat within him. The magical energy surged through his body and rushed into Taleen’s hand.

  He felt her body jolt as her hand gripped his harder. Jonas just fell within himself and let the power fold into her. He didn’t know how long he was praying but suddenly Taleen let go and the connection was broken. Shyann’s power receded within him and Jonas slowly opened his eyes.

  Taleen was staring at him wide eyed.

  “What is it?” he asked with concern.

  “I have never felt that kind of power. I thought your energy would consume me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought that the more I gave you the faster Kiln would be healed.”

 
“Theoretically true, but the wielder of the power has to be able to control the energy. I barely had the strength to wield your power, Jonas.”

  “I’m sorry, Taleen. I truly didn’t know.”

  “I know. I should have explained a few things to you before we tried that.”

  “Can you teach me how to control my power?” Jonas asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think we need to at least discuss it, so you have a better understanding of the powers gifted to cavaliers.”

  “I would like that.”

  “Are you going to just sit there and talk with the beautiful lady, or help me up,” mumbled Kiln.

  They both looked at Kiln with astonishment.

  “That was fast. Here, let me help you,” Jonas said as he helped Kiln to his feet. Kiln stood up slowly, arching his back to work out the kinks, and stretched his arms and legs to loosen them up. His body was sore and his mended wounds ached, but he felt great considering.

  “I feel as if my insides are burning, but it’s a pleasant feeling, a feeling of warmth and energy,” Kiln muttered in disbelief as he inspected the wounds. There were only small pink scars to remind him of the horrible injuries that almost killed him. “How can this be?”

  “Taleen and I healed you,” replied Jonas. Kiln looked at him and then looked at Taleen, his hard features suddenly broken by a gentle smile.

  “I am Kiln. We are deeply indebted to you. You’re a cavalier to Helikon?”

  “I am. How did you know I’m from the west?”

  “We call Helikon, Bandris, but the western symbol for Bandris is different, longer in the blades with different markings. I recognize that symbol on your cuirass.”

  “You are very observant.”

  Kiln continued to look at Taleen and Jonas felt a twinge of jealousy. “I take it that it was you who came to our aid last night?”

  “It was.”

  “Again, we are in your debt,” Kiln said for a second time.

  “No, you are in Helikon’s debt. He sent me here to find this young man.”