“The Rhythm helps me feel my opponent, too. I can feel his every move, hear his every breath, and taste the sweat of his fear and exertion. This allows me to know where he plans to strike next. Every person adds to the Rhythm, just as he adds to the Song, and it is the Rhythm that lets me feel an opponent’s injuries, strengths, weaknesses…everything. I can tell when he gets tired, angry, frustrated, scared. I feel his movements and I feel my own, and they both create the Rhythm of that fight. But, like the individual Song, that Rhythm is only a piece of the Rhythm of Battle itself.
“Embedded in all combat is the Song of Battle, and underlying that Song is the Rhythm of Battle. They are always there, whether someone feels them or not. I guess only a Swordsman, or at least someone highly skilled like the Black Guard or even Drath, can feel the Song and the Rhythm, and it is this ability that makes the Swordsman what he is. But it’s not just his ability to feel it, but to manipulate it that makes him nearly invincible.
“I think I might one day be able to influence how my opponent hears the Song and the Rhythm and be able to destroy his concentration, making him easier to defeat. Then again, my influence may not run so deep, but I plan to find out.”
Merdel grunted in satisfaction. “It seems the Great God works even more mysteriously than I thought. That is an amazing gift.”
Vaun nodded. “Even when a sword scrapes rock it makes a kind of harmony. To mistreat my sword would be to mistreat myself. And to spoil the harmony of combat, either real or in spar, is to destroy an almost sacred act.” This last he added to chastise Drath, and both the tall man and Merdel laughed.
Drath tried to look apologetic while smiling. “I understand. And I apologize profusely. Please, feel free to show me what an uncoordinated buffoon I am some more.” So saying, he leapt from his crouch and lunged for Vaun’s head.
Not even rising or rolling out of the way, Vaun drew his sword with an almost casual motion, making it a blur of black and white steel, and swept the tall man’s strike aside. He then slapped the flat of his blade three times against Drath’s head as he sailed by, once on the left cheek and twice on the back of the head. Even during Drath’s flight Vaun could feel the blows resonate through his friend’s skull. He winced, knowing Drath would have a headache in the morning.
Rising, Vaun laughed and moved to help Drath up. As the youth came within a step of the prone man, Drath rolled over and slashed at his knees.
The Swordsman jumped up and swatted Drath’s longsword aside, then paused momentarily in admiration as Drath rose swiftly and effortlessly to his feet. Every time the tall man fought, he revealed himself to be a much better fighter than he’d let on. Drath apparently counted on faking incompetence to put his opponents off their guard.
As Vaun turned his amazement into an attack, he decided to never underestimate anyone again. That strike had nearly removed his kneecaps.
Drath riposted with a finesse the Swordsman had as yet not seen, and the fight continued in earnest.
* * *
Three days later, the Kalt Mountains came into view far on the horizon behind the veil of falling snow. Thorne repeated that this was the largest range of their world and was nearly impassable. He told his young companion again that no one who’d tried to cross them had ever returned, yet many of the early settlers were said to have come from that unknown place beyond the Kalt Mountains.
An intense blizzard had delayed the group the day before. They’d barely found time to locate a shallow cave before the snow became a flood of falling white, the wind gusting mightily and flinging snow everywhere. It had sounded as if demons were torturing thousands of hapless victims outside, and all of them had shuddered at the noise. Dart had been forced to cover his ears with the edges of his blanket, though he’d still looked as if he heard the sounds clearly.
It had taken the six of them half a day to dig themselves out of the cave, and when they finally stepped onto open ground they saw that the storm had obliterated everything. Trees lay all about, their limbs scattered for miles, and cold, moist snow covered all the land. In some places, drifts had piled higher than Drath sitting on his horse. Birds sang sparingly, as if apprehensive the storm would return, and small animals darted nervously about, looking ready to bolt for cover if the wind picked up again.
Though Merdel had said almost a week earlier that their immunity was built up enough, he had nevertheless given them all, even the horses, a generous helping of his foul sickness remedy that night. He even drank some himself, and no one had complained, although Vaun thought his steed would kick him as he forced the drink down its throat. He had felt some satisfaction on seeing Merdel’s expression when he’d tasted his own medicine. The mage hadn’t commented on the obviously nasty taste, but Vaun had awakened late in the night and seen Merdel sorting through his herbs and muttering to himself about flavoring the drink without destroying its potency. The youth had smiled then and gone back to sleep.
Vaun shivered anew at the memory of that frigid night, all of them huddled together with the horses making a warm circle around them. They hadn’t had room or fuel for a fire, and despite heroic efforts at conversation, very little had been said. They were all too interested in just staying alive. The Swordsman suppressed another shiver as he remembered how close to death he’d felt and how powerless he was to stop it. A man, or even several of them, charging with sword raised and blood in his eyes the Swordsman could handle, but hours of howling wind and driving snow he had no defense against. It had bothered him, especially as he’d newly come into his self-confidence, but he’d reconciled it a little with the knowledge that no one else could prevent it, either.
Once the mountains came into view, Vaun knew their journey neared its end. Just another day or two to get them to the foothills, and Merdel had said it would take less than a day to find the passes leading to Elak’s fortress. From there, it was simply a matter of sneaking into the place, destroying the Stones of Tholar, and killing the Dark Wizard. Simple.
Only a few more days, he thought, and this exquisite madness would all be over. He hated the idea of it, but he loved it at the same time. Though he might die in the process of achieving his goal, he at least would have lived his dream for a short time. Yes, only a few more days. That was, until the soldiers appeared.
About two score of them rode over a nearby hill, resembling ghosts behind the white downfall. The snow had masked their approach, even Dart not hearing them, so the companions were taken mostly by surprise. At first, they all thought it was the Mahalian guard finally caught up to them, or more of Elak’s mercenaries; but as the men drew closer, their identities became more obvious. They were Nordens.
The country of Norden was the chief land of the north, and its capital city of the same name produced fine cavalry. While not entirely friendly people, the Nordens couldn’t be called hostile, either. Even knowing this, and the nonthreatening demeanor of the soldiers riding toward them, the companions found themselves growing a trifle apprehensive.
As he fingered the ball set into the pommel of the sword resting at his left knee, Vaun counted thirty-five guardsmen and three cavalry officers. The Song remained just behind his thoughts, and he kept his gloves on. His side didn’t itch, and that more than anything else allowed him to remain calm.
The cavalrymen stood out from their fellows on their larger, stronger steeds and elaborate dress. Plumes decorated their horses’ bridles, and their straight backs spoke of rigid discipline. All of the soldiers approaching the six wore primarily blue, with surcoats covering the fronts of the cavalry officers’ plate armor. The guardsmen had brown or black cloaks, while the cavalry wore blue.
The Swordsman noted the longswords or broadswords carried by the men, as well as the maces and flails that supplemented the cavalry’s weaponry. He wasn’t sure what to expect, for Thorne had said northerners were for the most part hospitable, but that they also possessed fairly violent tempers. The dwarf claimed this came from the long winters.
As the horse
men approached, Drath, as always, rode ahead to meet them, Merdel several paces behind. The best at diplomacy, the tall man trusted only Merdel’s slowness to anger for support in dealing with these strangers. Rush and Dart kept trying to maneuver behind each other, as if afraid one of the soldiers would recognize them. Thorne merely sighed and looked around, having no patience for the convoluted talk of politics. Vaun watched the proceedings carefully, wanting to learn as much as possible about traveling protocol. He let the Song come over him just a little, so that it would more effectively warn him of approaching danger.
At a signal from the middle of the cavalry officers, a big man on a huge horse, the soldiers halted. The officer who’d signaled and the man to his left continued forward until close enough to speak. The man who’d been on his right waited calmly with the rest of the company, his horse along with the others’ breathing steam into the cold air. None of them looked hostile.
The big man removed his white-plumed helm after they stopped, revealing a broad face behind a thick black beard. From the size of his neck, he looked as if he filled the entire expanse of his large armor. His companion kept his helmet on, his only sign of life the steady stream of hot breath billowing out from between the slits in his faceguard.
“Good morrow to you.” The officer’s voice was deep, and he raised one mailed hand and ignored the snow that slowly gathered in his hair. “I am Charak, Knight-Captain of His Majesty, King Sothos’ Imperial Cavalry.”
Drath nodded and returned the salute. “Good morrow to you, as well, Knight-Captain. I am Drath, of Celene. My companions and I are traveling through this land to explore the mountains beyond. We seek no trouble in Norden.”
“I am sure you do not. But that is not why we stopped you.” Like all Nordens, in particular the knights, the captain was impossibly formal. “From which direction did you come over the last few days?”
Drath glanced at the others in wonderment, apparently confused about why the man would want to know such a thing. Rush took the tall man’s gesture as a request for aid and edged his horse up beside Drath’s. Somehow he kept his face averted while still looking straight at the captain.
“From the southwest.” The elf pointed back over his shoulder, his lyrical voice surprisingly serious. Vaun could tell from the tenseness of his back how difficult it was for Rush to maintain that kind of tone. He also seemed unusually scared. “We left the foothills of the Black Mountains about a week ago, just beyond the curve. Since then, we’ve traveled almost due north.” Vaun was amazed at the elf’s lack of embellishment to so long a speech.
The captain pursed his lips. “I had hoped you had come the other way.” He turned to his companion, who still wore his helmet, and spoke briefly and quietly to him.
A gust of wind sprang up, causing everyone’s cloaks to fly about wildly. To Vaun, the cavalry officers, with their cloaks billowed around them, resembled majestic birds ready to take flight.
The captain looked back at Drath. “No matter. You are free to continue your journey. Best of luck to you all.” So saying, he turned his horse to go. He did not, however, put his helm back on.
Drath frowned slightly at the officer’s back. “Is there something we can help you with, Knight-Captain Charak?” It was something all northerners expected but refused to ask for; they looked for everyone’s help in solving a problem, yet would never request it. People were supposed to just offer. Drath visibly suppressed a frustrated sigh at the delay this might cause. He’d said northerners could cause more trouble if they didn’t offer support at the right time.
Stopping his horse, and managing to look both surprised and pleased at the question, the captain turned back toward the party. “I am not sure. We are looking for an escaped prisoner. Last we heard, he was headed in this direction. We have kept up with him so far, but lost him during that Ikone-cursed blizzard. Idiot probably wandered into the Black Mountains and, Ikone willing, got eaten up by a Jaga. Serve him right.”
Merdel leaned around from behind Drath. “What did this man do?”
“Plenty.” The captain’s companion raised his visor. His voice was not quite as deep as his superior’s, and his smaller face was clean-shaven. He didn’t have an insignia embroidered on his cloak as did Captain Charak, so Vaun assumed he was of lower rank. “He was planning an overthrow of our king, and we only found out about it six months ago. We have learned he has done this before in other kingdoms. We were taking him to the executioner in Luxen when some of his friends jumped us. Half of them died before they managed to escape. We lost nine in the attack.” Not as disciplined as his captain, he wiped away the snow that had gathered on his lip and spat contemptuously. “If only we had made it to Luxen.”
Drath whistled. Killing nine Norden cavalrymen was no easy task. “Who is he?”
“Someone named Liskin. Ever heard of him?”
All six of the companions stiffened at once. Having more self-control, Drath and Merdel managed to keep their surprise off their faces. Rush ducked his head and pretended to wipe snow out of his eyes, which wasn’t hard to fake, and the others fortunately sat their horses too far away to be seen by the soldiers through the blanket of falling snow.
Drath coughed once before managing to respond. “Sorry, no.” Vaun knew the tall man didn’t think it wise to reveal what they knew, for the officer would surely want to know their entire story, which they couldn’t tell, and would request their aid in the search for Liskin, which they couldn’t give. Right now, they could not afford such a delay. Even though it might mean the capture of one of the men responsible for the attack on King Dobry, their current mission was too important to delay longer.
Merdel had experienced another weakening of the barriers a few days ago, and he’d said then that their time was running out. The blizzard yesterday might have been caused by Elak’s magic, and twice before since leaving Mahal the earth had rumbled discontentedly. Norden was not known for earthquakes.
The captain nodded. “Well, if you do hear of him or see him, please let us know.” His deep voice rumbled, and for the first time he displayed a bit of the contempt he held for his escaped prisoner. “He has murdered several people and been involved in the assassinations of three noble lords.”
“What does he look like?” Merdel asked the question casually, as if merely out of curiosity and a genuine desire to help. But Vaun could tell he suppressed the urge to forcibly pull the information from the officer’s mind.
“Short, wiry fellow. Almost a runt. Hair is kind of blond and red. Always looks like he is squinting, or just planning something. Looks like a Galesian.”
The other cavalryman smiled wryly. “Which would explain his appearance.”
Vaun saw Merdel’s back grow more and more rigid throughout the captain’s description. The youth could see the tendons in the wizard’s neck standing out, and though he was behind the mage, he knew the silver specks in Merdel’s black eyes flashed angrily.
Despite his agitation, Merdel nodded calmly, as did Drath. “If we see him,” the tall man added, “we’ll certainly send word. We’d be glad to help you capture him, but right now we’re on kind of an errand. Thank you for the information, though. Good luck to you on finding him.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. Enjoy your journey.” So saying, the big captain put his helmet back on and saluted; then he and his junior officer turned and rejoined the rest of the soldiers. At another of his brisk gestures, the troops began moving again. Soon they passed over a hill and out of sight, only the trampled snow marking their passage.
* * *
Merdel sighed expansively when the soldiers left, as did the others. For a moment, there seemed to be nothing but a cloud of hot breath hanging around the six horses until the wind carried it away. “By all that is good, no.” The wizard shook his head. “I thought he was dead.”
“Who is he?” Drath and the others gathered around.
Merdel eyed his companions, wondering what he should tell them, if anything. Knowing Va
un would probably cut his head off if he said nothing, the wizard decided to tell them just enough to satisfy their curiosity. It was becoming increasingly difficult for the mage to be secretive with a Swordsman around.
“He’s probably the most accomplished assassin who’s ever lived. Quiris hired him shortly after he’d gained the throne in order to secure his place. What he didn’t know was that Liskin had already been hired to kill him. It was from Liskin that I saved Quiris’ life. It was a very long time ago, right after I was appointed Court Wizard. What happened to me left me unable to remember anything at all for weeks. It took me almost a year to learn all that happened.”
“Why?” Vaun seemed determined to prevent Merdel from keeping secrets.
The wizard sighed aloud this time, displeased at having to answer questions, and peered out into the falling snow. At least this part he didn’t have to conceal. “When I saved Quiris, Liskin cut me instead. Pretty badly. Fortunately, Rebbuk was in the castle, so the poison didn’t kill me. They told me I was delirious for five days, and that they’d had to read the poison-slowing spells to me out of my spell book in order for me to cast them. If they hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have lived. When I recovered, I could barely remember my own name, and I thought my powers had been used up. I was too concerned about that to give much thought to the man who’d almost killed me.
“Liskin had disappeared. The soldiers sent after him came back a few days later and claimed they’d killed him. Either they lied to avoid punishment, or they caught the wrong man. Fire, they may have even been working for him. As it is, none of that matters now.
“Quiris hired him because he has an incredibly agile mind when it comes to plotting an assassination. It’s said he masterminded the overthrow of one of the most powerful Meschian lords. It’d be just like him to use a Jaga, because he always recruits helpers. Some of them will fight to the death for him, as in the case with the Nordens. If he’s behind the conspiracy against King Dobry, there isn’t much chance His Majesty will survive. Liskin is a professional and always has an inside man. Hopefully, Captain Stolar will keep the palace guard alert enough to fend off any other attacks. But he won’t have a Swordsman to help him if his men fail.”
The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) Page 42