Balen looked at Joven and tapped the side of his own nose. "You should straighten that before it sets all the way. I've seen what happens to men when their nose isn't fixed before it heals."
Joven gingerly touched his broken nose. "Yeah, I was kinda hoping it looked all right this way."
Balen laughed heartily. "Oh yeah. If you're a goblin."
"Fine." Joven said, tentatively prodding at his nose. "Tell me what to do."
"Oh hells no!" Balen replied. "If you want medical help, ask mom. She's been patching dad up for years!"
Balen rose. "Anyway, I've got to go. There's been some soldiers in need of a barracks inspection and you know who the officers want on that, right?"
"Me?" Joven asked, feigning innocence.
Balen shook his head, grumbling. "Unless you suddenly joined the army and became a unit commander before me."
"Nope."
"Then it's still me."
"Going to whip them into shape?"
"Naw, I already put them in shape. Just routine." Balen replied.
As Balen left, Joven heard him say something to his parents. He would be able to get his nose fixed, but more concerning than the swelling and pain was his brother Talen's actions. What was he up to, and why did he leave?
Leona entered the room and walked up to Joven. He looked up at her from his seat at the table. "I was just going to talk to you..." he hesitated as she placed one hand on his forehead, gripping it tight. With no warning, she caught his nose between the knuckles of her other hand and brusquely set it back into place with a crack. Joven grunted, both eyes going cross-eyed and watering intensely.
She pulled out a small cloth and tossed it on the table in front of him. "Blow out your nose. Get the clots out."
He did so without complaint, his eyes still watering from the sudden abuse. He blew his nose as hard as he could manage, and was able to feel that it was, at least mostly, straight. She checked him over one more time before taking the cloth away and tossing it in the hearth fire.
"You fought bravely, but your weapon failed." She began. "I want to make you a new weapon, but it will take some time. I need to take measurements of your hands, and make some estimates. I'll also need to look at the old weapon."
"Okay?"
"It's going to take a few weeks to get it right. I might even need to make it a few times. So I want you to pick a sword from the armory to stand in for now."
Joven shrugged. "All right. I should probably carry more than one weapon. You know, in case I need a second, or a backup."
Leona nodded absentmindedly, thinking about the weapon design. "Sure, sure. Black iron?"
"Got any in red?"
Leona rolled her eyes. "If ever I should find some, I'll let you know."
"Yeah, black iron's fine." Joven stood. "I'll go look at the armory now."
On the way to the armory, he thought of what Talen had said to him. He couldn't figure out the purpose of the conversation, other than his apologies over his sword.
At the armory, a room near the bedchambers, Joven perused the accumulated weapons crafted throughout eight hundred years. While only a small sampling of weapons, because many of his ancestors were buried with their arms, it was still one of the biggest rooms in their home. Sixty feet in diameter, the circular room was crafted with weapon storage in mind. The center of the room was a five foot high rise in stone ten feet across. The stone had recesses for weapon racks to be mounted, and every one of them was full of weapons of various sorts.
Joven knew from childhood that almost any manner of weapon could be found there. Swords, daggers, axes, spears, hammers, bows, throwing weapons, chains – pretty much any kind of weapon. Most of them were generic in design; they had been made just for usage in the armory, in case they were needed. The line of Rothel had a tendency to craft more personalized weapons for each guardian, but because of their personal nature, they tended to get buried with them.
As Joven walked among hundreds of years of his family's history, he could easily see from any point in the room the only weapon that did not follow that rule. In the back of the room, opposite of the entryway, was the Inheritance.
The bipennis axe was given to the Guardians by the first Spengur himself. Though his name was lost to time, the weapon had developed the tradition of being named after the last one to die wielding it, but simply referred to as the Inheritance by others. The haft was crafted of dark wood, stained from pommel to head with blood so many times, it seemed black in the dim light. The handle was wrapped in thick leather straps carved with ancient barbarian letters. The axe head was some kind of milky white steel, whose crafting technique was unknown to any member of the family. The face of one side of the axe head was carved in a relief of a hundred barbarian warriors at the ready, while the other bore the same one hundred warriors lying dead of terrible wounds. A white steel spike adorned the top of the axe head, making it a weapon of many talents.
Joven had grown up hearing stories about the things that someone could do with that axe. He’d heard of warriors cleaving through men in plate armor, chopping through dragon scales, and shattering any weapon that got in their way. He’d also been told about the dangers of the axe. While powerful, the owner was in no way invincible. In fact, every single wielder of the Inheritance had inevitably died in battle holding it.
Joven was brave, but he was not yet brave enough to take up the Inheritance. Besides, his father had taken it up a few times during the Bloodfrost rebellion. And his mother would outright murder him for trying to walk out of the house with it.
Joven ended up collecting a battle axe, mace, shortsword, several throwing knives, since they were more portable, and a number of other weapons with varying degrees of utility. He decided against a long blade, and stopped at his room to bring the broken pieces of his old weapon to his mother..
Joven walked back into the kitchen and handed it over to her. Leona started looking over his old broken bastard sword. The blade still attached to the handle was barely 4 inches long, snapped near the dull portion of the edge.
"Joven." She said, focused on the broken edges of the sword. "Did you lock blades with him during the match?"
She was referring to when two swordsmen would push against each other by locking their swords together by the guard. Joven thought back. "No." He replied. There were a few moments when we pushed off each other's swords, but it never slid into a lock."
Leona frowned. "Then did you run into any other swordsmen that locked with you before the match?"
Joven scowled. "No. What's this about?"
Leona held up the broken handle, staring into the jagged broken edge. "Because there's some damage to the blade I can't account for."
"Mom," Joven replied. "I exchanged blows with Korvos for over five minutes. You can't possibly account for every time our weapons clashed."
Leona rolled her eyes, still examining the sword. "You keep telling yourself that, honey. There's some scratches along the blade near where it broke that didn't match any of the hits on your weapons. Didn't you inspect the weapon before you went to the match?"
Joven nodded. "I went over my weapons the night before. Everything was pristine and oiled."
Leona looked up at him, irritation on her face. "Then the blade must have been sabotaged."
Joven blinked, confused. "Cheating?" Joven asked. "It's not like Korvos to cheat."
Leona looked Joven in the eyes. “The house was locked up last night. No one could have gotten in without..." she said, her voice hardening.
Joven felt a brief moment of panic, remembering when that voice meant he was about to get into serious trouble.
"Uh..." Joven muttered, trying to change mental tracks. "Talen spoke to me last night before he left."
Leona looked over the sword again one more time. She left the room, returning a moment later with tools. She carefully dismantled the pommel, and unwrapped the leather grip. She pried out the anchoring pin from the tang, and pulled the broken blade free fro
m the pommel.
She stared at it, surprise evident on her face.
"What is it, mom?"
Her eyes narrowed as she looked over the tang, the bit of the blade that extends into the handle. "This is Rathe craftsmanship." she declared. "How did that get into our house?"
"Rathe?" Joven asked. "I'm not sure. It's not yours? It looks like yours."
His mother shook her head. "The Rathe craftsman uses a narrow headed smithing hammer, and doesn't polish the metal down through the tang before assembly. I do."
Joven shook his head, confused. "So, that's not my sword?"
Leona slammed a fist into the table, causing a vibration Joven could feel through the floor at his feet. "Damn it!" She exclaimed. "Talen wanted Korvos to win. He must have replaced the weapon after you were asleep."
"Hold on! Why would he want me to lose?" Joven demanded. "What does he gain from it? And how did they craft it, if the match was determined only a day before?"
Leona dropped the broken handle on the table with disgust. "I don't know. Maybe he took a defective blade from their forge that night and replaced it here. He knows enough about weapons to change the blade. But him running off like this makes more sense now. He knew he'd get found out."
"If he knew, why did he come to apologize?" Joven asked. "That just makes no sense."
"I don't know!" Leona exclaimed. "What I do know is that Daelen is going to be pissed."
"Who's going to be pissed?" Daelen asked, walking into the kitchen. He was dressed in leather armor covered in molded metal plates. "Don't tell me the boar's all gone."
Leona tossed the broken weapon handle at him, and Daelen caught it without so much as a glance in the direction it came from. "Throwing knives now?" Daelen said jokingly.
"That's Joven's sword handle, the blade that broke yesterday. It's been tampered with."
"We locked up last night."
"That's true."
"So you're saying one of us did it?"
"Who's missing all of the sudden?"
Daelen froze, his grip suddenly tightening on the weapon handle. "What?" he said, his voice low.
"He had a Rathe crafted blade, and he replaced Joven's sword with a defective one in the middle of the night before the match." Leona continued.
"Enough." Daelen replied. "I'll find the boy when I get back, and I'll deal with him."
Daelen threw the useless handle hard enough that one flange of the guard hit the stone wall across the kitchen and cracked.
"Where are you going?" Joven asked.
Daelen struggled to contain his temper. "King Gurn's son 'requested' that I accompany his father on his yearly hunting trip. I'll have to be out for the next few days. Unless he's lucky and catches something worthwhile on the first day."
"It's still a great honor to be requested to join." Leona replied. "Show him what we can do. We'll look into this trickery."
"It was Kalenden's suggestion." Daelen replied. "He said that we would save face if I were to be there."
Joven felt a sharp sting in his chest hearing those words. "Dad…,” he started to speak.
"No." Daelen interrupted. "That's not why I'm doing it. I'll be back soon. But I'm going to be taking the Inheritance with me."
"What?" Leona exclaimed. "You know it drives me crazy when you use that thing!"
Daelen shot her a grin, one that Joven had learned to emulate over the years, though his eyes did not reflect any joy. "You're just jealous that I'm not using one of yours." he said, teasing.
"But why are you using it?"
Daelen shrugged. "Kalenden wanted me to accompany Gurn on this hunting trip. That would mean he wants me around for his protection, not because I'm an excellent hunter."
"So you want to be there to protect him." Leona concluded.
"And the axe is more than a weapon." Daelen added. "It is also a powerful weapon. Bringing it shows him that I'm serious about being there."
Leona stood, walking over to him. She embraced him, Daelen barely needing to bend down to be on level with her. She kissed him firmly on the mouth before parting. "Just be safe." Leona demanded. "Or I swear I'll kick your ghost in the..."
Daelen rolled his eyes. "It's a hunt. That's safe enough." he replied. "Now, what happens to Talen when I find him after that..." he turned and started walking away. "It won't be safe for him."
As Daelen left, Leona looked Joven in the eyes. "He's going to be gone for three days, minimum." she stated. "Gurn refuses to return unless he's had a challenge."
"Which means I have three days to find Talen." Joven concluded. "And get some answers before dad tears apart half of Balator."
"You have always been the clever one." Leona said, nodding. "Now go. Find out what's going on here, and bring Talen back."
"I promise." Joven answered.
Joven left, heading towards the first and only solid clue he had. Korvos, the one who benefitted directly from his loss.
* * * *
Joven walked onto the grounds of the Rathe household and felt a moment of concern. Though the Rathes were more numerous, having nearly fifteen members living in-home and another dozen abroad, their numbers were all apparently too busy to take the time to clean and maintain the fine details of their home. Mountain weeds sprung up between cobblestones, checked only by the cold and the tramping of feet. The walls were intact, but showed wear and a lack of maintenance as the mortar was crumbling around some of the stones, a few of them were even missing.
To the untrained eye, the house would look fine; but Joven's dedication to his duty and the honor it earned made him feel deeply concerned. Was this really the people who would guard the Spengur?
He stopped at the door and knocked. Adjusting his belt to accommodate for the number of new weapons on him, he realized too late that being armed as much as he was looked like he was ready for war.
The door opened just a crack. "Who're you?" a young voice called out.
"Joven, son of Daelen." Joven replied. "I wish to speak to Korvos."
"He ain’t here!" the kid called. "Come back later!"
"How much later?" he asked. The kid instead slammed the door closed. Joven could hear several locks being engaged.
Joven growled. He needed answers and the brat just shut him out. He could wait, or he could take a page out of Talen's book and do some slinking about of his own.
He turned to walk out of the grounds, and just before passing the outer walls stepped to the side. Between the open gate and the wall, there was enough obscurement that no passersby would see him unless he made a lot of noise to call attention to himself. Speaking of noise, he looked down at all the weapons he had strapped to him on harnesses and sheaths. He would need to have his mother make him some armor with sheaths built into certain places. Streamlining his profile would make him able to move more quietly.
He slipped off the harness holding most of the weapons and laid it on the ground at the crux where the gate and the wall met. He kept the Rathe bastard sword with him, and he crept along the side of the house. He knew there would be a few walls that broke up the grounds, but he could try to glean some kind of useful information by listening or peeking through windows. He had to be cautious; there were far more people in this house than his own.
He made it to the first set of windows without incident. He crouched low, underneath the windowsill. Nothing could be heard, so he slowly raised his head up to look through the window. He saw a dimly lit bedroom, but no one inside. He shrugged, dropping back low and moving forward. The next window also divulged nothing of note, leaving him up against one of the dividing walls.
He tensed, getting ready to jump, when he heard something that sounded like a conversation. He put his ear up near the wall and listened carefully. A few people were having a muted conversation on the other side of the wall. Joven pulled his head back and scanned the wall, finding a section where the mortar had fully fallen out. Putting his ear to it, he could hear almost all of the conversation.
"W
hat the hells went wrong?" one man asked, sounding older than Korvos. The other, definitely Korvos' voice, replied after a short pause. It sounded like he was taking a drink of something.
"Look, Daelen's left with Gurn." Korvos replied. "He's out of the way for now. I've won the guardian position, so I'll be able to get closer."
"You're going to need to look above any kind of reproach." The other voice replied. Joven frowned. Was it Davik?
"Joven's not going to cause any more trouble," Korvos replied. "As far as he's concerned he lost fair and square."
"Fair and square?" the other voice said. "You're the one who nearly lost."
"True, but I had that in mind." Korvos replied. "His brother was quite capable at preventing that."
Joven's expression became a grim mask. He knew now without a doubt that Korvos had cheated him.
"It was a pretty fast reaction considering we had less than a day of notice." Davik stated.
"Talen was already nearby, so I just thought to ask him to do it. You should stop distrusting him, he's been loyal to us for years." Korvos replied.
"I still don't see how paying him would earn his loyalty."
"Greed is a powerful motivator." Korvos replied. "But that's not all I have."
"Whatever. Are we ready for the next step?"
"Yes. King Gurn should have left by now, and we'll take the castle in cover of darkness tomorrow night."
"By the time Gurn returns from his hunt, the guard will be loyal to us, and he'll have to fight his way through the city to try to reclaim it." Davik continued. "Excellent. I'll rule this mountain by week's end."
"Do I still get to remain the Guardian?" Korvos asked.
"Of course." Davik replied. "We just need to get rid of that bastard and his bastard of a son. They've been denying our heritage, and stomping on our people long enough. There's something very wrong with him."
"What is it?"
There was silence in response. "Just do your part." Davik replied. "It's not something I can explain."
Joven had heard enough. He backed away from the wall and slipped back to the gates. He recovered his weapons and stepped out into the street. He had to do something. His brother Balen would have an idea. He knew military procedure like no one else, maybe they could come up with a plan.
Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain Page 6