Leona sighed. “He’s just on edge. It sounds like you had a close call and that gets to him. He doesn’t want to fail in the duty his father left him to, and he certainly doesn’t want to lose anyone else he cares about.”
“Anyone else?” Bridget asked, standing from the table. She picked up Joven’s discarded bowl and carried it over to the water basin to be cleaned.
“He didn’t tell you?” Leona asked. “Oh, that’s quite a story.”
Endrance finished eating and sighed. He leaned closer to Anna for a moment, checked his movement, and instead stood up and carried his bowl to the basin. Bridget took his bowl and the mage walked over to Selene, where he whispered in her ear. Leona took note of how her face reddened considerably when he did so. He straightened, and Selene turned to Leona.
“He said he’s going to take a look around the house.” Selene reported. “Spend some time with Joven since he seems a little down.”
The mage smiled at Leona and walked out in the direction he had seen his bodyguard go. The three Draugnoa watched him go and then turned to look back at Leona.
“What a strange young man.” Leona observed. “You’d think he wasn’t worried about his life.”
Anna sighed. “He is, but he’s more worried about his friend’s state of mind.”
“Even though it’s his life that’s messing him up.” Bridget added.
“Hey!” Selene objected. “I think it’s sweet of him to care.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “It’s stupid of him to ignore his own health for the emotional state of someone else.” She snapped back. “He knows what happens should he die. You’ve told him that. I’ve told him that. Joven’s even told him. But still he takes risks like an idiot. He’s nothing like the Spengur of old.”
Anna slapped her hand on the table without thinking about it. “That’s also unfair. He’s taking the risk, but it’s not his responsibility to be safe. That’s our job. Joven’s to protect him from harm, and ours is to teach him how to not take such risks in the first place.” She shook her head. “He’s too young to have the experience to avoid things like assassins; all of us have to have the common sense and wisdom he needs, until he gains his own.”
Bridget glared at her while Selene looked down at the table, her finger tracing one of the long-worn grooves in the wood. Leona had watched the exchange, and spoke up when the silence grew uncomfortable.
“Well, why don’t we clean up, and I’ll tell you our story while we work.” Leona offered.
Anna looked at her sister Draugnoa and then back at Leona, nodding. “Sure.” She said. “It would be good to hear a story right about now.”
Leona smiled, a wide, almost predatory grin that the three girls before her had seen many times on Joven. “Great.” She said. “I’ll start with my husband.”
* * * *
Joven watched his charge pore over the books he had brought with him to the familial home and sighed. The house was eerily silent, save for the occasional sounds of pages turning and a quill scratching, punctuated by Endrance muttering a phrase. He was trying to sound out terms to decipher the language Joven's people used hundreds of years ago.
They had long since lost the use of the written form of their ancestral tongue, and rarely was the time that it was even spoken. A few more generations and all that would remain of their language would be single terms and sayings. Joven didn't feel it was that important, but he knew his charge well enough to know he'd want to prevent that.
The barbarian slowly walked around the room, pacing. He paused at the barred window and looked outside. Part of the training yard was barely visible, smothered in the deep darkness of night in the mountains. The assassin, the elf, could be crouched a foot away on the other side of the glass and he wouldn't know it.
He had chosen his brother's room, since his insistence on getting into trouble had caused Daelen and Leona to install half inch thick bars of steel over the window. It wouldn't be easy for anyone to get in through the window even if it was open or broken.
His pacing led him to the door and he put his hand on the latch, pausing. It was the only way in since, unlike the Spengur's house, Joven's familial home had been properly constructed of stone and steel. The wood throughout the floors and furniture were merely decoration. Because of the stone construction, there were no open ceilings, and this time no assassin could drop down from the rafters like he suspected had happened earlier that day.
He lifted the latch and opened the door, glancing outside. Nothing happened. No killers lunged down the dark hall towards the bedchambers. A faint rise in voices coming from the direction of the kitchen told him that Leona was entertaining the Draugnoa with stories. The corner of his mouth ticked down; he knew she only had so many stories to tell, and which ones were her favorites.
He closed the door, shutting away the sound of his mother telling every sordid detail of his life until he had gone to meet Endrance.
Silently he sighed. They would find out about Talen, and by proximity, Endrance would hear about him, too. Endrance had proven to be someone who could not let a mystery lie, and he would find out that Joven had lied to him. He'd find out, but he wouldn't know everything unless Joven told him personally.
"Endrance." Joven said, looking over to the desk. The lean wizard looked up from his studies, brushing an errant lock of hair from his face. The angry red line of agitated flesh was easily visible in the candlelight, the skin over the wound nearly the same color as blood and as shiny as a burn scar. He was amazed that it healed at all; most people didn't get to live from getting their throat slit. Joven shook his head slightly, clearing his mind.
"Yes?" Endrance whispered.
Joven hesitated, faltering. "Nothing." he replied, turning to eye the shadows in the window.
There he was, the big strong warrior, able to kill twenty times his weight in man or beast, and he couldn't even talk to a trusted friend about his brother. Joven mentally kicked himself, grimacing.
"Is this about your brother?" Endrance asked. "The other one?"
Joven turned to him, incredulous. "How...?"
Endrance tapped the desk. "This is the third non-master bedroom that had furniture in it. It is also one of the rooms that Leona dusts, but Balen’s and your rooms aren't as clean. She keeps it for someone, and after nearly taking my head off I'm pretty sure it wasn't me." he explained, taking his time to form each word as painlessly as possible.
Joven shook his head. "I knew you were a clever man, but is it really that easy?"
Endrance shrugged. "It was either that or you had a sister." he admitted.
Joven rolled his eyes. "A girl's things would be smaller." Joven replied. "To fit their stature."
Endrance kicked his legs in the chair designed to sit someone easily twice his mass. "You know, I had no idea." he whispered sarcastically.
Joven shook his head. "We need to increase your training." he muttered. "Talen was... my older brother. Between Balen and I."
"What was he like?" Endrance asked.
Joven's hands clenched into fists. "Trouble." he replied, his voice harsh. "It's hard to explain."
"Try." Endrance said. "I need something to think about while I work."
"Fine. I'll tell you, but I'm doing this my way, and only once. I don't talk about my brother."
Chapter 02: Twenty Years Ago
"Children," Daelen asked, standing before his sons. "What is the most important thing for us?"
Daelen was big, even for a Balatoran man. Easily over six and a half feet tall, Daelen towered over his young children. Though rugged in appearance, he was no fool, and had made it to his third decade without suffering a major injury, which was saying something considering the lifestyle his people lived. He kept his dark brown hair cut short to the scalp.
"Winning?" Balen asked. As the eldest, his brothers had waited for him to speak first. Though only nine, he had grown in size and frame to what many in other lands would consider their teenage body. He had still yet
to fill out any true muscle, but his broad shoulders and hands were already prominent. Like his two brothers, his brown hair was cut short. Children in Balator would not earn the right to make their own decisions about clothing or hair style until they were considered adults, and since none of them made their first kill, Daelen had been in control.
"No." Daelen replied. "Winning is how we achieve what is important to us."
Talen, rolled his eyes. "Having stuff?" he asked off-handedly. He was nearly as tall as Balen with only a year's difference, but nowhere near as broad. He had inherited his mother's leaner build and it gave him a lanky, stretched out appearance that wouldn't change until he filled out.
Daelen shook his head. "Also wrong." he reprimanded. "Property is a reward and a benefit, but it is not the most important thing. It would be important even if there were no reward."
Joven frowned, trying to remember the lessons his father had been teaching them. "Fighting?" he asked. He was the smallest, being almost three years younger than Balen. He came after a long period of time trying to have another child, and no more children had come since then. He had inherited Leona's blonde hair and blue eyes, but his father's powerful frame. At six years of age, he looked scrappy.
"Fighting's not as important as winning, Joven!" Balen exclaimed.
Joven shrugged. "How will you win if you don't fight?" he asked in response.
"What would you be fighting?" Talen asked.
"Children!" Daelen barked, his voice echoing off the stone training yard walls. They were lined up out in the back of the house. The summer morning was warm; the snows had partially melted and the suns were unobstructed by clouds of any sort.
"Duty." Daelen concluded. "Our duty is the most important thing to this house. Others of Balator may only want to fight to win, or to earn glory. That is not our way. We live to serve Balator. We live to serve the Spengur."
Talen rolled his eyes. "Not this again."
Daelen rounded on his middle son. "What?" he asked, barely keeping himself from shouting.
"Daelen, we haven't had a Spengur for years." Talen said. "You didn't have to watch one."
"I didn't."
"And grandpa didn't either."
"He didn't."
"When was the last Spengur we watched over?"
Daelen's eye twitched. "Fifty years. Our great-great grandmother protected the last Spengur, Carthur. And then before that we guarded Kaelob."
Talen shrugged. "So then even if the king allows another Spengur, then the other family will take care of him."
"Yeah!" Balen added. "The other children of Rothel."
"Rathe?" Joven asked.
"Yeah, Rathe." Balen said. "The first line of guardians."
Daelen sighed. "Listen. You kids may laugh at this now, but it's our family duty to be prepared to guard the Spengur. Rothel himself gave two of his children the charge to protect the Spengur, and we carry on their duty even hundreds of years later."
Daelen scratched at his scalp and tried to hold in his frustration. Behind the children, Leona watched him with a smile. The kids were rough and unruly, like all the other children of Balator. However, unlike other kids, these three had to start their training early. It cut out much of their social life, but that in and of itself was important. The bodyguards of the Spengur needed to stand out, to stand apart. They needed to be a cut above the rest.
"I'm not good at this talking thing, dammit!" Daelen exclaimed. He shook his head as he walked past them. "Go do your exercises! I'll try to figure out how to whip you unshaped brats into something resembling honorable men."
Daelen left them to their individual exercises. Designed early on in the beginning of their line, a yearly training regimen was passed down from fathers to sons over dozens of generations. Every month of a child's training was plotted, from the age of six until they reached sixteen. After ten years of exercise, diet, training, and combat both real and practice, it was boasted that a guardian line's training regimen could turn even a weak human from Ironsoul into a true warrior.
Leona remained leaning against the wall next to the back door, her smile faded. Daelen walked up next to her and leaned against the door, shaking his head.
"I don't know what I'm going to do." He said. "I know the training, I know what they need to do."
"You were taught that." Leona replied. "The training plates were very detailed."
She referred to the 120 hammered circular steel plates etched with each month's training forms. There were words written that could not be read, but every plate had been thoughtfully covered in detailed images of combat maneuvers, weight training and even the basic diet the subject needed. Each plate was two feet in diameter and weighed over ten pounds, and the first few plates denoted that the children use the very plate for training. Leona figured they were supposed to read the plate while doing the exercise, but they were written in their ancient language. No one had read it in centuries. People hardly spoke it either, after travelling barbarians adopted a simpler language common to most people they had discovered.
"Yeah, but I was not taught how to make them want to do this." he said with a sigh. "I'm much better at talking to men... and letting my axe do the talking."
Leona chuckled. "It's very persuasive, but if you tried that with my children I'd have to kill you."
"I know." he replied. He paused. "What should I do?" he asked.
Leona watched the boys go through their separate training regimens. Joven was swinging the training plate with both hands, his face red with exertion as he continued his exercises in earnest.
"Don't worry so much about teaching them." Leona said after a moment. "Make them do the exercises, and in time the lessons will start to sink in. If they are anywhere nearly as hard-headed as you were..."
Daelen sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Already forgotten your childhood, huh?" Leona asked. "You're what, forty?"
"Yeah." Daelen replied. "Getting old."
Leona watched the children, calling Talen out for slacking off.
"You know, I hear that people in Ironsoul live for upwards of sixty years sometimes. Some of them have even reached eighty." Leona replied.
Daelen regarded her with a skeptical eye. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"One of the traders that came to the gates last week when I was out."
Daelen scoffed. "Ridiculous. No one lives that long."
"The Spengur does."
Daelen shook his head. "That's different. They're unnatural."
Leona shrugged. "Just saying what I heard."
"So I should just let them go without knowing how important their duty is?" Daelen asked.
"They're children, Love. They don't care about duty or honor yet. At most they care that what you think is important."
"Then they'll keep training. And fighting."
Leona slid closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. "And they will become the best warriors on the mountain."
Daelen laughed. "They're going to become the greatest guardians of our age. Or else."
"Or else what?"
"I... don't know."
"Well, that's reassuring."
Daelen was about to reply when a snarling, barking sound cut through the morning air. The neighbor's yard erupted in shouting, and people scrambling could be heard followed by more barking.
"Get back to work!" Daelen called to his children, who had paused to listen to the spectacle. "It's just the dog trainer."
The snarling was cut off with a yelp, and the boys went back to their exercises. For several minutes, they labored in silence and Daelen only called out to correct a child's form or to tell them to move to the next set. The morning passed quickly.
Leona went inside to start preparing their meal while Daelen continued supervising the training. It was a rare day that Daelen had time away from military action to personally oversee their development. It was becoming less rare as time passed; the older Daelen became, the more read
ily he found reasons to stay home. It was all part of living on Balator. If you retired, you eased out of your duties so the younger could fill them without creating a power vacuum.
Joven was starting to get tired. He had been exercising all morning and his barely developed muscles were burning. The steel plate he clutched with his sweaty hands felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and he had to keep adjusting his grip to keep it from slipping. He would have put the thing down already since he was hardly three months into his regimen, but he didn't want to do that while his father was there. He pushed himself hard, hoping that maybe one of his brothers would tire out first.
It was unlikely. Balen was exercising for years now, and had built up much stamina and strength. Talen hadn't been at it as long, but had found ways to put forth the minimum amount of effort to get the task done. Joven hadn't the talent for preserving energy or boundless endurance, so he had only his effort. Still, Joven pushed as hard as he could. He was young, but he wasn't going to let his brothers beat him.
He hefted the plate over his head one last time before switching to a set of rotations holding the plate at full extension that would work his abdomen. The snarling from the dog trainer's yard picked up again, followed by the occasional whip-crack of a training lash and the coarse shout of the man who was running the latest litter of dogs through the wringer. Neither Joven nor Balen had been able to see over the fence to see what went on over there, but Talen had managed to shimmy up one corner a few weeks ago and had reported that they were training the dogs to fight and kill men.
Suddenly a raucous of barking and pained shouts from the neighbor caused the three children to halt their exercises. Daelen's attention perked up; that was the sound of a dog tackling a man.
Seconds later, the commotion got closer and closer to the stone wall separating the households. A dog, spattered in blood on its hide and dripping from its mouth, sailed over the stone wall and landed in the middle of the training floor.
It was only a few feet from Talen, who immediately yelped and sprang backwards. The dog, surprisingly unharmed from his long jump, turned to the boy with a snap of its jaws. Daelen stepped forward, drawing a dagger from his belt, but hesitated when he saw his sons spring into action.
Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain Page 2