The Book of One: A New Age

by Jordan Baker

  Suddenly, Aldos stepped up the pace, rushing in with a flurry of blows and Aaron found himself sliding his sword into a blur of different blocks and twists. He backed off a bit in surprise and quickly realized that he was being pushed back to the edge of the circle. Guessing that leaving the circle was a bad thing, he countered and reversed the pattern. Aaron increased his speed and moved his blade through the sequences Tarnath had taught him. Soon he was forcing Aldos back to the centre. The trainer’s response was another increase in the speed of the match and soon steel was whirling through the air. Aaron found himself ducking, jumping, twisting and rolling to keep up with the stocky little man’s offensive. It was different than fighting Tarnath.

  The old man was never one for wild spurts of force and he constantly changed his tactics. Aldos seemed to be testing Aaron and he realized that of course was what this spar was all about. The older man kept bringing more complicated and tricky swordplay against Aaron. Aldos completed a set of eleven consecutive blows, all of which Aaron managed to block, then he backed off before completing the twelfth, which Aaron knew to be a final stroke, lethal to either combatant, connected or blocked.

  “So, you have been taught a few things. You’re pretty handy with the steel, young man,” Aldos said, pausing for a moment.

  Aaron shrugged and grinned as Aldos pressed forward again. The smaller man came in under Aaron’s defence and swept his feet from beneath him. Aaron rolled clear and was up to block the next swing. Aaron too could throw a bit of hand combat in if that was what Aldos wanted. He led him through a series of movements waiting for the right swing. Finally, as it came, Aaron followed it down with his own blade, forcing his opponent into a crouch. He skipped around the man’s left and dragged the flat of his blade over the man’s shoulder. Aldos rose to his feet and turned to face Aaron.

  “Nice hit,” he called and pressed in for another attack.

  The sparring continued in much the same fashion getting more and more frenzied as Aldos was hit again and again. Aaron, mindful of the fact that they both used sharp steel, was careful not to hurt the man but it became increasingly difficult to pull hits as Aldos fought harder and faster. After a while, Aldos called a stop and Aaron noticed that a small group of the other students had gathered outside their circle. The instructor wiped the sweat from his forehead and sheathed his blade. Aaron did the same. The older man gave a menacing look to the young men gathered there then led Aaron off through the practise field which was quickly growing empty.

  “Well lad,” Aldos wheezed. “I don’t know how much more training you need. I suppose you know your way around bows, axes, staves and the like?

  “I’m better with a sword, but yes, I have trained with them,” he answered hoping not to offend the man.

  “I’ll bet. Well, come with me. We’ll get cleaned up then it's off to supper.”

  Aldos lead Aaron over to the large building that housed the mess hall and, outside the entrance way, each took ladles from two big rain buckets. After dowsing their heads with water drying off with towels that were provided, they passed through the main entrance and Aaron saw just how many students there were at the academy. The great hall was lined with long tables around which were seated what looked to be more than two hundred people in all.

  Aldos told Aaron that they had two hundred and forty-seven students including Aaron’s recent addition to their numbers. Not all were learning weaponcraft and battle theory. Some were magic users who soon would be going off to the mages' school. The rest were engineers, healers, and there were even some apprenticing as military cooks. He led Aaron to the end of the hall where a long table stood on a step, slightly raised. There sat a number of older men, some not so old, but all uniformed in the green and blue of Maramyr. As the two approached the table, Aaron saw Nathas who looked up from his meal to greet them. Aldos told Aaron to wait by the end of the table.

  Aaron stood and noticed that many of the younger diners were glancing up at him as they talked amongst themselves. He looked back to the high table and saw Aldos talking animatedly to Nathas. The other Captains had stopped eating and were also listening intently. Nathas wiped his mouth with his napkin and spoke at length to Aldos. When he had finished, Aldos saluted him and returned to Aaron. He pointed at a nearby table nearest which was half-empty and where a young man with dark hair sat quietly apart from the other students at the opposite end of the table. Aldos told Aaron he should sit there. Aaron thanked him and took a seat at the table opposite the dark-haired fellow.

  Except for a glance, the other student ignored Aaron and continued eating. The other boys at the other end of the table busily ate their meals and glanced at Aaron while whispering amongst themselves. The student across from Aaron finally broke the silence and paused from eating, extending his hand.

  “Borrican,” he introduced himself. Aaron returned the greeting himself and then Borrican reached for a large dish of stew, which he passed over to him. “Aaron? I haven’t seen you before.” Borrican had dark brown, longish hair and seemed to be trying to grow a beard. He also spoke with a kind of accent that Aaron thought might be Kandaran.

  “No. It’s my first day,” Aaron replied and one of the boys down the table choked for a second.

  “Hmmn, well you must have really impressed master Aldos then. Welcome to the First Division.” he looked down to the other end of the table where the other students sat. The other boys intoned a ‘welcome’ through mouthfuls of bread and stew. “I’m sure you will meet the other lads later.” he looked round at them again. “They seem to be very hungry tonight.” They avoided his gaze. Aaron thanked him and filled his own plate. He had not eaten since the night before and was famished.

  After they had eaten, Borrican showed Aaron to the common area reserved for the top three Divisions and the Captains. A good number of students sat reading and discussing various topics. Several Captains sat and smoked pipes or played at cards.

  “This is where most of the students spend their evenings. Many who study here do it only so they can impress the Captains and maybe graduate early. It is rare for one to graduate before the one year but maybe you will. First Division on the first day. It’s a good start for you. Well met, Aaron.” He said as he rose and turned to leave.

  “Yes, well met, Borrican.” Aaron replied to Borrican’s retreating back.

  *****

  The next morning, Aldos paired Aaron and Borrican to spar in the practice circle.

  “I want you to get Borrican to attack you,” he told Aaron.

  “Shouldn’t he do that?” Aaron asked. Aldos shook his head.

  “No. He’s highly skilled, talented even, but the lad never takes the offensive. Not sure why, but I think maybe he hasn’t faced the right challenge.”

  “And you think he might attack me?”

  “We teach skills here at the Academy, we don’t teach talent and I think you and Borrican have a measure of both,” Aldos commented. “That lad can certainly defend himself, but I want you to get him to take the offensive. That is your task.”

  Aaron nodded, curious about the sword-master’s instructions. He wondered more when many of the other students and instructors began to gather around to watch. Aaron nodded at Borrican, who gave him a bored half-smile.

  “Good morning,” Aaron said, greeting his new friend from the night before.

  “What’s good about it?” Borrican asked tiredly.

  “What isn’t?” Aaron countered.

  “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  “I can think of worse places to be, can’t you?” Aaron said and Borrican half-smiled and nodded.

  “True.” He shrugged. “I suppose we had better put on a show for the Captains.”

  Aldos gave the order to begin.

  Aaron was ready, his blade poised for an attack but it did not come. Casually, Borrican raised his own blade and moved slowly toward Aaron, stopping at the circle’s center. Everything about the Kandaran’s movement was casual, except that Aaron noticed a
depth in his eyes, watchful underneath the mask of indifference. They paced around the circle, neither attacking. Aaron could see Aldos watching closely from outside the circle and Nathas had joined him. Aaron stepped another half-circle and then decided that he had waited long enough. He took a step forward, carefully watching Borrican for any sign. Nothing.

  Aaron raised his sword and moved in quickly with a fast attack. As if magically, Borrican’s blade gracefully matched his own, steel for steel. Aaron could see from Borrican’s expression that the dark-haired Kandaran was not concerned. He side-stepped and moved to break away, but Aaron moved with him. He decided to try a few things he knew and began to alternate the speed of his attacks, a trick Tarnath had taught him. It was one of the most aggravating things when Tarnath would do it. Borrican seemed to wake up as Aaron began to press him, but he continued to only defend. Aaron found himself becoming frustrating.

  Borrican would only engage in defensive maneuvers and, when the opportunity arose for a response, he simply moved away. Aaron thought it might be a trick, to lure him into overconfidence, into exposing himself unnecessarily. He was not willing to take the bait. He decided to try something else. He swung widely with one hand and Borrican’s sword reached out to meet Aaron’s before he realized his mistake. The block had left Borrican open, not for a blade, but for Aaron’s fist which landed a hard blow on Borrican’s left eye. Borrican stumbled back, blinking as his vision blurred. Aaron smiled and shrugged as he saw something glimmer in his opponent’s eyes.

  “That was dirty,” Borrican said. Aaron smiled.

  “If you’re not going to fight, then why should I fight fair?” Aaron asked him. “Besides, I have a feeling that we could dance around this circle all day without either of us getting anywhere near the other. I bet you couldn’t hit me if your life depended on it.”

  “You seem pretty confident,” Borrican threw back, darkly. Aaron smiled.

  “Maybe. Why don’t you find out?” he goaded, enjoying the friendly but competitive repartee. A few light strokes passed between them as Borrican sized up the Academy’s newest arrival.

  “Why not?” Borrican nodded and then stepped back. “You ready?” he asked.

  “Come on.” Aaron nodded, ready. Borrican stepped forward and launched into a series of lightning quick jabs and quick swings. Patterns intended to confuse, to throw an opponent off balance whirred in the morning sun as Borrican moved in. Aaron quickly defended. He was amazed at the other boy’s skill and finesse. Borrican made it all seem effortless as he stepped up the speed of his attacks. Aaron was glad now of the long years of training he had endured since he was a boy. Borrican was clearly more than just talented with a blade, he was adept. Still, he kept leaving himself open and Aaron could not resist. As they passed each other, Aaron elbowed Borrican hard in the ribs.

  “You’re not fighting fair,” Borrican growled through gritted teeth as Aaron pressed in on him again, driving him back toward the circle’s edge.

  “There’s no such thing as a fair fight,” Aaron told him, Tarnath’s words echoing through his own. “If things were fair, you wouldn’t be fighting.” Aaron shoved him hard and Borrican stumbled back.

  Aaron thought he saw a flash of fire glint in his eyes. Whatever it was, there was a distinctive shift in Borrican and he came back swinging, finally on the attack. Aaron blocked and ducked as the Kandaran’s steel whipped toward him at an alarming rate. Borrican was no longer cool and relaxed, but his movements retained their deft artistry as his attacks became faster and harder. Aaron’s own skill was being tested now as he spun and dodged, blocked and responded with attacks of his own. Whatever had been the source of Borrican’s previous apathy, it was gone, replaced by an intensity Aaron had not seen before.

  Outside the circle, Aldos and Nathas stood, arms folded, watching the exchange.

  “The new kid is good with a sword,” Aldos said. Nathas smiled.

  “I heard he gave you quite the workout yesterday,” Nathas commented.

  “He knows a lot of things that we don’t normally teach. And styles from every region. Where does he come from?” Aldos asked.

  “Nowhere, really. But he was trained by an old friend of ours.” Aldos gave him a questioning glance and Nathas explained. “Tarnath Coromay was his uncle. You might remember him.”

  “Tarnath?” Aldos certainly remembered the old armsmaster. He had never met anyone so gruff and unassuming in person who, once a weapon was in his hand, became almost supernatural. “Well, if the kid’s even half the warrior as old Tarnath, then even I would rather not face him in a real battle. He's got talent, that' much is certain.”

  Many years ago, when Nathas was a young officer in the Maramyrian army, he had been on a campaign with Tarnath and had seen him move through a field of enemies, dispatching foes with a masterful efficiency that he had never seen since. It was that simple, direct and unassuming style that he now saw in Aaron. Tarnath’s reputation as a soldier and weaponmaster had only been matched by his own honorable intelligence and his personal honesty. The old armsmaster had been one of King Gregor’s most trusted advisors and a personal guard to the royal family before the fire in the palace that had tragically taken their lives. Nathas remembered that Tarnath had left Maramyr shortly after Cerric had taken power, out of favor with the new Regent who, claiming that the fire that killed his brother, the king, had been supernatural, preferred the company of the mage-priests.

  Nathas watched as Aaron traded attacks with Borrican and he could see Tarnath’s training in him, but he saw something else in the lad’s movements that he could not put a finger on. Whatever it was, he decided he would keep an eye on Aaron. Lord Carlis had been right to bring him to that Academy. Clearly Aaron was skilled. And he was honorable like his old uncle had been, he would make a very fine captain.

  Aaron and Borrican were both breathing heavily, sweating in the dusty practice yard. Aaron was amazed at how Borrican would seemingly leave himself open to attacks yet somehow his blade was always there to defend. It was almost as if the sword weighed nothing to the Kandaran, the speed with which he moved it to block or strike. Still, they were both beginning to tire and he wondered how they would end the bout.

  Borrican watched Aaron closely, his own eye still stinging from the fist that had connected. The shock of it had long since dissipated and so had the momentary anger, which he was glad about. The Kandaran was curious about this new arrival, who, in one way, fought in perfect textbook style, the way the instructors at the Academy did, but also seemed to move faster to match anything Borrican threw at him. No one he had ever met had been able to keep up to him. He saw Aaron’s attention shift away from the fight and smiled inwardly, this was his chance. He moved in close with a series of attacks he knew would lock their blades together. Borrican watched as Aaron’s other thoughts disappeared and his focus returned to the fight. Too late. Borrican had him and he made his move.

  Aaron knew he had made a mistake, but he almost laughed when he saw, for a split second, a row of knuckles speeding towards him. He threw himself back, away from the Kandaran, but not after a solid fist had connected with his face. The two of them stepped away, catching their breath and Aaron guarding carefully as the sight in his eye went blurry. With his other eye, he saw Borrican smile, his own eye already rimmed with a purple bruise. Aaron lowered his sword and bowed, a desert custom he had read about. Borrican did the same.

  “Now, that’s fair,” Borrican told him. “There’s no point in only one of us walking around with a black eye.”

  “An eye for an eye?” Aaron asked him.

  “Exactly.” Borrican rested his sword on his arm. Aaron smiled back at him.

  “Let’s hope we never have to go tooth for a tooth,” He joked. Aaron wondered at the dark look crossed Borrican’s face for a moment before he shook it off and sheathed his sword. Aaron did the same and they approached each other and shook hands. The students and instructors, all clustered around the circle, applauded. Aldos and Nathas app
roached.

  “Well my boys, it looks as though the two of you will be sparring partners,” Aldos informed them. “Those were some fine skills you showed out there, but Captain Nathas and I both have a few things left to teach you.”

  “Nicely done, Borrican, Aaron.” Nathas looked at both of them. “I noticed that both of you employed several styles from the desert people. Obviously, you have had well-rounded teachers in the past. What we at the Academy call the sparring circle originated in the desert. The Ansari call it the circle of death and they have been fighting this way for many generations. You will find books on the Ansari fighting style in the Academy Library. Study them, for the subject will be your next test.”

  “Books?” Borrican groaned. “You want us to read more books?” Nathas gave him a sharp look.

  “Is that a problem Borrican?” he asked. Borrican shook his head despondently.

  “No.” Nathas looked to Aaron.

  “No, sir,” Aaron said quickly. Nathas looked back at Borrican for a moment then turned on his heel, leaving Aldos with the two of them.

  “You heard what the Captain said. Off to the library with you!”

  *****

  Aaron’s training progressed and when he was not sparring with Borrican, he trained with the instructors and Captains. Though Tarnath’s training had given him the edge of skill at first, he discovered that he was no match for their seasoned arms and they were able to wear him down. ‘Man strength’ Aldos called it and told Aaron that it took years of training to have the weight and endurance of a full-fledged soldier.

  Aaron trained harder every day and quickly felt the muscles in his arms and shoulders tone into solid rock. Within a few months of heavy training, Aaron was able to match every Captain except for Nathas who seemed to be able to swing a sword all day long without getting winded. Aaron applied himself as much as possible to his books and continued to learn a few of the languages of the surrounding kingdoms.

  While some of the other students in his division resented Aaron’s accelerated progress in the practice field, most became used to him and occasionally joked around with him all the while maintaining a kind of distance. Borrican was his only real friend. Occasionally, Lord Carlis would visit him and bring him news from Ehlena and Lady Valamyr He also told Aaron of the gains on the money Aaron had given him to handle. It seemed that the fall harvest would be one of the best in years and since he had put the money in for farming loans, Aaron could expect to see a good profit on his money by autumn.