To Be Chosen (The Maestro Chronicles)

by John Buttrick

  This was the answer to his dreams. “Thank you, Great Master,” he said with barely contained excitement. “Once free I will hunt down Daniel Benhannon and make him pay for the damage he has done to your glorious guild.”

  “No!” Tarin Conn shouted, with brow furrowed and eyes burning in anger. “Stay away from Daniel Benhannon. I have use for him in the future. Even so, he is paying the price for disregarding my warnings and has been Silenced by the Grand Maestro.”

  Serin Gell smiled at the thought of his enemy being Silenced. Daniel Benhannon may as well have no lightning bolts at all. Oh this was special and Serin truly wished he could have seen the look on the Ducaunan’s face when Efferin Tames betrayed him. The moment of joy passed and Serin realized there had to be a greater purpose, a stronger reason for the Supreme Maestro to order an extraction from Aakadon, the most secure city in the world, and one filled with tens of thousands of enemy Accomplisheds. “Great Master, what would you have me do?”

  Tarin Conn’s lips slanted up into a half smile. “I am about to decide which member of the guild is to be the next Maestro, Vance Cummin or you,”

  Serin’s jaw seemed to have come unhinged. He closed his mouth and prostrated himself on the floor. “Great Master, I am yours to command and serve in whatever capacity you choose,” he replied breathlessly.

  To be the next Maestro, the thought was intoxicating and made his head spin. Vance was competent and could be trouble but Serin knew who would win this contest.

  “Once you are freed,” Tarin Conn continued as if uninterrupted. “Begin reorganizing your powerbase within the guild. Yetis, sasquatches, and Condemneds are running loose. Balen never tied the Da Capos of the spell to a crescendo, so they are out of control. The only ones still under control are those he ordered to obey particular Accomplisheds. You already know the spell to control the yetis, the same works on the sasquatches. I will teach you the spell, Condemnation, so you can bring any existing Condemneds under your control and create new ones as well. Vance Cummin is doing an excellent job of pulling the guild back together and well ahead in expanding his powerbase, even absorbing some of yours. Remember, whichever one of you garners the most members, and builds the strongest organization, will be the next maestro and the loser will be ordered to submit. Do not seek to Condemn or kill Vance Cummin in this contest. He has been given the same orders concerning you so neither of you should test my resolve on this matter. The guild needs both of its Three-bolt Accomplisheds.”

  “Your will be done, Great Master,” Serin replied at once.

  This was far better than Serin dared hope for. Just when all seemed lost and he would be spending what was left of his life in a cell beneath the Eagle Guild, the Supreme Maestro breathes new life and purpose into him.

  “Listen and I will teach you the spell, Condemnation. Ten heart beats of concentration freezes the subject in place and gives you complete control over the subject’s will, twenty heart beats causes every hair to fall from the subject’s body, thirty beats and beyond allows you to rearrange the subject’s body into any form you please, while keeping him or her alive through the entire process. The transformation is excruciating and I believe you will enjoy the casting as much as Balen ever did. Vance seldom goes beyond forty heart beats of concentration, not out of pity, for he has none, he just seems to prefer the most efficient approach,” Tarin Conn instructed.

  A trumpet appeared in the hands of the Supreme Maestro and he played the Melody, implanting the spell directly into Serin’s subconscious, and firmly into his repertoire. This was an entirely new technique in teaching and Serin was impressed and extremely pleased that the great master would so honor him. He would fill the world with Condemneds; only individuals who proved loyal to him would be spared. He chuckled at the thought of Condemning the Cenkataaran guarding his cell.

  Tarin Conn vanished as quickly as he had come. Serin woke, stretched, and sat up expectantly. The urgency with which the Supreme Maestro had spoken caused him to believe the extraction would be eminent.

  The snap-bang of displaced air startled Serin even though he had been expecting it. The sound came from several cells away. Screams filled the night, at least Serin thought it was night, regardless, day or night; his rescuers were right outside the door, which was now glowing silver-blue. He moved to the left corner and ducked under the protruding shelf just as the door burst apart, iron shards flying everywhere. In walked a One-bolt Accomplished of Ducaunan birth, brown hair cut short, dark eyes, and pale in the face. The man was six and three quarters cubits in height, one of the tallest men Serin had ever seen, and powerfully built. He had one golden lightning bolt on his black silk cloak and a diamond tipped silver baton in his hand.

  “I’m Jordan Simms. Vance Cummin has sent me to extract you,” he shouted while fire balls and flashes of potential flew back and forth in the corridor behind him.

  Seven more One-bolt Accomplisheds of the Serpent Guild entered the cell and encircled Serin. Jordan lifted his baton and the silvery-blue glow of his potential increased. Each member of the team began to focus their life force energy at the team leader, performing in concert with him. Just before they reached the climax of the spell, all condemnation broke loose, members of the Eagle Guild, led by Jeremiah Lassiter, stormed into the cell, casting spells, and launching their deadly, Beak Strikes, beams of light, shaped like an eagle’s beak, lacerating anyone unfortunate enough to be struck. None of the beams reached Serin, but four members of the extraction team died right in front of him before the blackness of in between here and there caused him to lose all sensory perception.

  They arrived in a forest glade, which was all Serin could discern about his location. He was the only one standing, every member of the now reduced extraction team was on the ground, two of which were severely dehydrated from the demands of the teleportation spell, and two were dried out husks. Once completed, the teleportation Melody draws the necessary potential to carry out the spell, and with four persons ripped from the casting, the energy came from the remaining participants of the concert. Four One-bolts using class-one level-one batons have the equivalent of eight bolts of potential, more than enough to complete the spell, but it drained the life forces out of half of them in the process. Serin had not been part of the concert and therefore felt no ill affects, not so Jordan and the plump female Aakacarn on the ground near him.

  The female reached into the folds of her cloak, withdrew a water flask, and drank thirstily, gulping down the contents, and then shutting her eyes wearily. She was a comely girl with light brown hair and green eyes, like an illegitimate cross between a Ducuanan and a Battencayan.

  Jordan emptied two water flasks down his gullet before getting to his feet. “We are in Ducaun, just outside the village of Graywood, about twenty-five spans North-northeast of Aakadon,” he stated, as if that was enough explanation.

  “I know you have been to Serpent North, why did you not take us there? For that matter, there are many places far better than a remote village in the middle of a pine forest, especially one so close to the home of our enemies,” Serin replied.

  “The Maestro is dead, Vance Cummin is in command at Serpent North, everyone in the guild is swarming to him, they follow his orders and so do I,” Jordan said without a trace of chagrin.

  Serin was about to administer chastisement when several things occurred to him; his potential was still shielded, dropping him here out of the way was all Vance’s doing, and he needed this man’s help. “Well done, you have completed your assignment. Are there any other orders you have concerning me?”

  Jordan glanced at the female Aakacarn. “Olivia, I told you we were nearly as strong as any Two-bolt, and this proves it.”

  “And so it does,” she replied while getting to her feet and wiping her hands.

  “Congratulations on the growth of your potentials,” Serin told them, bringing their attention back to where it belonged; on him.

  “My orders were to extract you from the Eagle Guild, bring
you to Graywood, and nothing more. We don’t have enough potential to cast, Teleportation, so wherever we go from here, we go on foot,” Jordan finally got around to answering.

  Serin knew exactly where to go, what to do, and how to go about building his organization while reestablishing his old ties. “We must go to Lamont, my nest is there and so are my crescendos, one of which may allow me to break this shield on my potential.”

  “I bow to your experience,” Jordan said and actually bent from the waist, matching the deed to his words.

  Olivia bowed her head, slightly. “I look to your guidance,” she said, not in full commitment, but it would do.

  Serin bent over the mummified remains of the nearest Accomplished, took the slender golden baton from his stiffened fingers, and then summoned potential for, Ball Of Flame, and focused on the two bodies. Nothing happened. The shield was still in place. He had not truly believed a level one crescendo would bolster his potential enough to break free, but it was worth the try. He removed the black cloak from the body on the left, guessing that it would fit him best, and then slipped the silk on over the white robe.

  “To Lamont,” he told the newest members of his team.

  Chapter Six: The Benhannon Estate

  Daniel stood on the north bank of Lake Benhannon. It was an imperfect oval half a span wide, east to west, three quarters of a span north to south, and fed by a fresh water spring deep beneath its surface. He was standing in ankle length blades of green grass and watching mallards with glossy green heads and mergansers with their slim bodies and reddish bills, fish, turtles, and assorted bugs engaged in the cycle of life. The lake never had a name, according to the farmers who worked the land to the east, north, and west. Silvia proclaimed it. “Lake Benhannon,” and repeated it at each of the fourteen farms they had visited, and the name stuck. The residents seemed pleased to meet him. They were humble and pragmatic people and took the transition from farming the lands of the Queen to that of a Royal Knight of the Realm fairly well, especially after he told them he was lowering the share owed to his estate from two tenths of their produce to one.

  His four storied manor house with a lookout tower rising thirty cubits from the roof was two spans behind him. The width and depth of the central part of the house was greater than that of the Polkat Inn back in Bashierwood, with one story wings twenty strides wide, stretching out north, east, and west another thirty strides. The manicured grounds covered a square span area and were surrounded by a granite wall ten cubits high and two thick. Fruit trees, squared off hedges, and beds of flowers decorated the lawn. The stables were on the west side of the estate and could probably hold nearly a thousand horses, but were now home to only three with two occasional visitors. The royal guardsmen were gone, taking along with them the household staff and grooms.

  Silvia and David were off among the Reshashinni, who finally arrived, and probably enjoying the Great Carnival. They assured him they would be back in time to escort him to Ducanton. Jared was at the manor, in his west wing office, preparing lists of things to be done, and whatever was involved in acquiring a new staff to take care of the huge house and grounds. Daniel would do the work himself if he was not engaged in learning the duties and responsibilities of being a Royal Knight of the Realm. The law books arrived yesterday and he only had four more days to read through them before his presence was required back at the capital. He was wearing beige wool pants, a brown belt with the gold buckle he made, and a light green cotton under shirt with his new family crest embroidered on the upper left side of his chest. The falcon in flight with a golden lightning bolt clutched in its talons, in a sky of blue, was impressive. So far as he knew, the Benhannon family never had a crest, but they did now and he was more than satisfied with what the Queen had designed for him. He was sure his parents and relatives would be pleased.

  Marcus, dressed in his blue uniform, which now had an arm patch of the Benhannon crest, was facing him, wooden sword in hand, “Shall we have another go?”

  They had been practicing for over a mark. Daniel mastered the bow and knife years ago, but had never so much as touched a sword. He did not usually have an ego problem, not that he was aware of, but it was a little embarrassing to be the only Royal Knight of the Realm who did not know how to use his sword. His Captain-of-the-guard was showing him basic thrusts and parries. Marcus was not a master-of-the-blade but he was competent and doing his best to bring Daniel to that level.

  “Your reflexes are good, you have speed, endurance, and with these standard moves you should be able to credibly face most men in battle, not that you could not defend yourself the other way” Marcus told him.

  “What do you mean?” Daniel asked, even though he had a fairly good idea what was meant.

  Marcus pointed at his bandaged leg. “That wound wasn’t healed by any Teki ointment, not that I realized it at first. I bathed back in Jeeter, removed the old bandage, intending to replace it with a new, but discovered the injury was gone. I figured you wanted the matter kept between us so I put on the new dressing and kept quiet.”

  “I appreciate your discretion. Keep in mind, if this information becomes common knowledge, this estate will be difficult to defend against the kind of people who are likely to assault it,” Daniel let him know.

  “I well understand the need for secrecy,” Marcus said while raising his practice blade. “Now, let’s see if I can get you good enough with a sword, you will not need to do something you would rather not.”

  The Captain had broken through Daniel’s defenses often in the beginning, four days ago. Those marks of training paid off and Daniel had managed to strike through his teacher’s defenses twice in the last session. Wielding a sword is much different than a knife fight but Daniel knew the moves and was improving with each training bout. He brought the wooden sword back to the ready position and nodded his head.

  Marcus came in swinging from the right, stopped as Daniel was about to parry, and then turned, changing direction just before their blades were about to touch, and with a twist of his wrist, came up under Daniel’s parry. The move had been successful in the last session but Daniel was ready for it this time. He reversed his swing and brought the blade down in time to intercept the strike, sweeping Marcus’s blade back out, and then thrusting his own blade into the Captain’s ribs.

  “Excellent,” Marcus told him. “You never make the same mistake twice.”

  Daniel stepped back. “I try not to.”

  He was glad the more experienced man did not hold back on him, made him work for the victory, and not just let him win. He was also pleased to see just how competent his Captain-of-the-guard really was.

  “All you need now is more experience. I strongly suggest that you continue practicing even when you are in the capital,” Marcus said while reaching for Daniel’s wooden sword. “I can come along if you want.”

  Daniel shook his head. “No, you had it right days ago when you told me about the need to recruit guards for the estate. While I appreciate your taking the time to train me, at the same time, I am keeping you from interviewing the applicants.”

  Marcus came very close to smiling. “My time is well spent if this training keeps you safe, but yes this is slowing down the winnowing process. Eighty men have applied, some having years of experience and others with little to none. I want competent men so I must see if their skills match their talk. The Queen had it right when she told you filling the vacancies would not be a problem. I believe the deeds attached to your name have attracted many applicants and it probably will not take long for the estate to be fully staffed with fifty guardsmen, grooms, and a full complement of domestic servants.”

  Daniel clapped the Captain on the back. “The Queen is wise and I’m not surprised things are working out as she believed they would. Anyway, thanks for the sessions. I have chores at the manor that need doing so I hope you will excuse me.”

  “Chores, I have a few of my own. Those men I spoke of are waiting in the west wing and I need to take
them to the guardhouse,” Marcus stated and walked with him most of the two spans to the manor.

  He broke off in the direction of a large one story granite building near the stables. The roof was flat and had a railing from which the guards could look out over the estate, although the tower gave the best view. Knowing him, the Captain was preparing a rigorous test before bringing them to the guardhouse. Daniel entered the manor, ascended to the fourth floor master bedroom, and prepared to get creative, the kind of creativity that required privacy. He summoned the potential for, Find All, energy for the spell flooded into him, making him feel stronger, and he focused on the entire building, above ground, and deep down into the bedrock, sensing Jared in the west wing and Marcus leading eighty men across the lawn. None of the non-Aakacarns could see the blue glow of potential.

  He was aware of every room, every dimension, how thick each wall was, and every spider, creeping bug, and even birds that landed and took off from the roof. Farther below the foundation was the source of the spring, a river flowing deep beneath the estate. He then added a Da Capo to that spell and summoned the potential for, Fashioning, placing both palms flat against the granite wall. The room above and the ones directly beneath the master bedroom were empty, but they would not be for long. He focused his awareness into the bedrock, envisioning three chambers; one he formed into a replica of the master bedroom, the second a large storeroom, and the third into a two chambered vault. The area he displaced did not turn to dust or disappear; it actually increased the density of the surrounding stone, making it stronger. He formed some of the stone in the master bedroom into a smaller room and created a privy with a water cabinet, sink, and bath tub, then formed small shafts that led down into the underground river and extended pipes with valves to regulate the flow of water. Other shafts he created to bring air flow into the hidden chambers and some shafts were drain fields to carry away waste so as not to pollute the river. In the room on the first floor, he formed a sink so the manor would have an indoor water supply, and then extended a pipe and valve down into the water. At the back left wall of his fourth floor room, he rearranged the stone into a ten by ten pace shaft and ran it all the way down to his hidden chambers in the bedrock, and then formed a circular stairway from there up into his room on the fourth floor. The only access was in the master bedroom and the lower chamber.