"Why not?" the lad answered with a shrug and a half smile that reminded Brian of his brother, Diller. "If I put the wraps on the hilt, people might think it's a fancy sword and give me a little more respect."
"Good point," Brian said. "I never thought of it that way."
"You must have a fancy sword then." The lad raised his eyebrows, looking more closely at Brian's armor, the sword in his hand and the two axes that stuck out above both his shoulders. "Fancy armor, fancy axes and a fancy sword. You must be a fancy fighter."
"I don't really care much for fancy," Brian said with a note of irritation.
"As long as the blade's sharp, that's what matters," said the lad.
"And the hand that wields it," Brian added.
"Yes. That is most important. If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"
"Brian."
"Just Brian? You are not some kind of lord or noble?"
"No," Brian said. "I'm just a fighter."
"Ah, then you're like me," he said with a smile. "I am called Pike."
"Pike?" Brian had never heard of such a name. "Like the weapon?"
"No," Pike said. "Like the fish."
"I know about trout, but I haven't heard of pike," Brian told him.
"They are in the lakes far to the east, in Xalla."
"Then that's where you're from?"
"Yes," Pike said. "I was lucky to come to this great city of Maramyr with Queen Calexis' force, otherwise I don't think I would have been able to travel all this way in time for the tournament."
Brian was surprised. It did not make sense that he should be in Maramyr, which was several days' ride away from White Falls. He looked around the high walls of the square and he realized that he could not see what might be on the other side. There was no reason for the young Xallan to mislead him, but it seemed impossible that on the other side of the walls that surrounded them might be the crown city. Brian realized that he had not said anything for a few moments.
"You're a soldier?" he said, since Pike neither looked like a soldier, nor was he dressed like one.
"No, I'm a swordsman," Pike replied, looking up from the strip of leather he was busily winding around the hilt of his sword. "At least, I want to be a swordsman."
"So you aren't a swordsman."
"Well I have a sword, and I will fight in the tournament, so that will make me a swordsman."
"And what did you do before you were a swordsman?" Brian asked.
Pike frowned then he leaned in a little closer.
"I was a cook for the army until yesterday," he said. "I made a mistake with the commander's soup so now I'm not a cook anymore."
"And that's why you decided to fight in the tournament?"
"Of course! Everyone is fighting in the tournament, so why shouldn't I?" Pike tied off the leather strap on the hilt of his weapon then held it up. "See, they give you a free sword, some leathers, all the food you can eat and a gold coin for every match, even if you don't win. Those who win get more and they get to compete for the prizes."
"What prizes might those be?"
"No one knows," Pike said then his expression turned sly. "I heard that those who make it to the final rounds will be given commands in the army and the ones who win those get even better prizes from Cerric himself and they say the prizes are magical. I don't know if I could beat all of the other fighters, but could you imagine me a commander? If I won enough fights I might even outrank the commander who took away my job. That would be rightful justice."
"That's your plan?" Brian said trying not to sound skeptical, lest he offend the lad, whose primary attribute appeared to be little more than enthusiasm. "Do you know how to swing a sword?"
"I've seen it done," Pike said and Brian shook his head.
"Have you ever trained with sword?" he asked.
"I have practiced a lot."
"You just got your sword and you are going to fight with it without having swung it before?"
Pike looked a little uncomfortable, but he jutted out his chin, obviously mustering his confidence.
"I learn quickly," he said. "I was the best cook in the Xallan army. Everyone loved my soup."
"Except the commander," Brian reminded him.
"It was good soup," Pike said. "It was just too hot, and I spilled it on him."
"You spilled it on him?"
"I tripped," Pike said. "I didn't do it on purpose, but the commander didn't see it that way."
Brian felt like he should probably bid the young man good luck and get to the tunnels so he could report back to White Falls with what he had discovered. Pike slid his naked sword into the leather strap of his belt.
"Let's get registered," he said. "Then we can get some of the free food and ale in the city."
Brian shrugged and followed the lad toward the registry tables, figuring he might as well register since it would probably make it easier for him to walk around without attracting attention. The few warriors who had been lined up before had already been registered so Brian and his new friend did not have to wait. Bran gave the soldiers his name and told them he was from a town called Merrybrook, which he knew was nowhere near Kaleb's lands. They entered his and Pike's names in a ledger book and gave them both green strips of cloth then wished them luck in the tournament, without giving either of them so much as a look. It seemed to Brian that the soldiers were not particularly enthusiastic about the task they had been given, but it worked in his favor since he did not want to be discovered.
"What do you say we go eat?" Pike suggested as they walked away from the table.
"I am not particularly hungry," Brian said, hoping that the young Xallan would depart so he could get back to the underground passage. "I thought I might watch some of the sparring for a while."
"Would you like to spar with me?" Pike asked.
"With you?"
"Yes," Pike said. "You seem like you know how to use a sword and I would like to practice a little before the fights begin. I would be honored to fight you, even if it was just a sparring match."
Brian sighed inwardly. The way Pike seemed determined to follow him around reminded him of how his brothers would do the same, and he knew there would be no getting rid of him easily. Even though the lad was a Xallan, Brian also felt a little bit sorry for him, at the thought of him entering a swordfight never having learned to handle a blade.
"All right, Pike," Brian said. "I will spar with you, but then I have some things do do, so you'll have to go get something to eat on your own."
"Oh," Pike said, frowning as he realized that Brian might have important business of his own then he smiled. "It is very good of you to spar with me."
Brian nodded and followed him to the far side of the square where there were what looked like large, open paddocks. The two of them entered one and drew their weapons, Brian deciding to use his sword just to keep things simple. Pike started out holding his blade awkwardly with its tip down and Brian knew that the Xallan was unlikely to last very long in the tournament. At the very least, he hoped he could show him a few things that might keep him from getting killed, even accidentally by his own sword.
"Hold your sword up higher," Brian told him, remembering the basic things he had learned from Tarnath, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Pike raised the hilt of his sword up, with the tip still pointing downward.
"Like this?"
"No," Brian said. "Point it up, like mine."
Pike tilted his sword upward and stared at it then he turned it sideways and looked at his reflection in the dull steel. Brian took a deep breath and let out a great sigh.
"What are you doing now?" Brian asked.
"It's really interesting how the scratches on the blade make it look like you have scars when you look at it," Pike said.
"You're going to have more than scars if you don't pay attention."
"Yes, right. Let us begin."
"It began the moment you pulled your sword," Brian told him. "If this was a real fight, you would already b
e dead."
"You're right," Pike said, placing the point of his sword into the ground and leaning on the pommel. "I should be more serious."
Brian stared at him in disbelief.
"Why aren't you holding your sword?"
"Oh, right." Pike picked up his weapon again.
Brian could see several warriors wandering over to the practice area, appearing to be interested in what he and Pike were doing and he decided it might be best to actually begin the sparring so he moved foward.
"I'm going to attack you now," Brian said. "Just try to block and step out of the way."
"Got it," Pike said.
Brian swung his sword in an arc at half speed, making his movement really obvious so the young Xallan would see it coming. He was nearly on top of him with the blade when Pike looked up and noticed the sharp steel swinging down toward him and he dropped his sword and jumped back, luckily out of the way. The fighters who had begun gathering at the edge of the practice area laughed and began making comments amongst themselves.
"Pike," Brian growled. "You're not supposed to drop your sword."
"Sorry," he said. "You startled me. I wasn't ready."
"I told you I was going to attack," Brian said.
"I know," Pike said with a frown as he stooped and picked up his sword from the dirt. "I'll do better next time. Let's try again."
"Fine," Brian said, stepping back. "I'll attack you from the side. Just hold the sword up like this and step back when I swing."
"All right," Pike said, holding his sword out, the way Brian had showed him.
"You're supposed to wait until I swing at you," Brian said.
"Why don't I just hold it up now?" Pike asked. "That way it's already there for you to swing at."
"The fighters aren't going to swing at your sword, Pike," Brian said, starting to lose his patience. "They are going to swing at you, and they will not tell you which way they will swing from. Now get ready."
He swung his blade and Pike held his sword out the way he had been shown, but Brian saw that he had closed is eyes and it looked like he was already flinching before the blades even met. He smacked the sword easily from Pike's hand and the Xallan jumped back holding his wrist as the blade clattered to the ground.
"That hurt!" he said, a look of outrage on his face as he hopped up and down, still clutching his wrist.
"What hurt?" Brian asked. "I didn't even hit you."
"You hit my sword," Pike said.
"Things like that tend to happen in swordfights," Brian replied. "Maybe you should reconsider the idea of fighting in the tournament."
The fighters at the edge of the practice area were lauging heartily now
"Not on your life," Pike said. "There's all that free food and ale and there's gold to be won. I'm going to be a champion."
"You're going to be dead if you're not careful," Brian said as he thrust his blade back in its scabbard. "I wish you luck, Pike. Don't grip the sword too hard or they'll knock it from your hand like I just did."
"Thank you, Brian," Pike said with a brave look on his face, but a somewhat fearful look in his eye. "This swordfighting business is not as easy as it looks. I will have to practice some more before the matches begin on the morrow."
"That is most certaily a good idea," Brian told him then he nodded and walked away.
As he made his way past the fighters, who had gathered to watch him and Pike spar, a few of them made comments about wagers they were planning to make and Brian heard them debating who was the worse fighter. Brian wanted to stop and tell them that he was simply trying to show the young Xallan how to keep from getting himself killed, but he knew it did not matter. With White Falls under siege, he had no intention of fighting in the tournament. There was a soldier standing nearby and he asked him where he might find the privy pots, making sure that his voice carried loud enough for anyone standing nearby to hear him.
Brian headed off in the direction the soldier pointed, veering toward the door where he had encountered the gardener. The stairs and passage were empty and, luckily, the handle that opened and closed the stone door now seemed to work properly and, before long, he was back in the tunnels, headed back the way he had come, wondering how long it would take him to travel all the way from the cown city of Maramyr to the country fortress of White Falls. As he walked along the quiet, underground passage, with only the faint whispers of the voices to keep him company, Brian thought about the days long ago when he had been as bad at holding a sword as Pike and how the things he was taught by old Tarnath had kept him alive over these past seasons. He also wondered about his friend, Aaron, and hoped he might be still alive somewhere, curious whether they would see each other again some day.
*****
"I agree. I should have said something about it before," Stavros said, doing his best to hold his temper in check.
"And is there anything else that you have forgotten to mention, Stavros?" Zachary asked, his mood dark.
"Zachary, please," Ehlena said. "I did not even see the shadow, nor did you, so there is no reason Stavros should have been able to."
"But he knew it was there," Zachary said.
"No, I did not," Stavros shot back. "I thought I removed it completely. I thought it was gone."
"Well, it wasn't." Zachary took a deep breath. "So, what do we do now?"
Aaron was trying to ignore their conversation, but he could see that Ehlena and the two mages were in a heated discussion about something, and he had very little doubt that it had to do with him. Ever since they arrived at Stavros' home, which was a kind of house that the mage had cleverly built inside of a mountain, the three of them had been in deep discussion about things, which they had taken pains not to include him, and Aaron was getting tired of it, since it was not particularly difficult for him to listen in with his power. He rose from the stone bench by the small hearth and walked toward the spot where the three of them stood, huddled around one another, talking in low voices as though he would not hear what they were saying.
Since he had merged with his power, his senses had become far more sensitive, almost to the point of being painful, and he had asked the others to leave him alone, but it did not matter. He could hear even the tiniest sounds and things that were far away and his sight allowed him to see all kinds of energy and detail that he could only glimpse before, even when he had used his power. Aaron knew that Lexi and Tash were in a different part of the caverns learning about the Ansari from Kasha and Ashan and, even though they were a good distance away, it was as though they were right next to him and he could feel the vibrations of energy coming from them. He could sense other things, tremors of power from far away and other things that he could not even name.
The intensity of it was overwhelming but there did not seem to be much he could do about it so he tried to focus and separate the things that mattered from the noise. Aaron could also sense the shadow that existed deep within him and he could feel it growing slowly, hungrily feeding from his power and he also concentrated on quieting his mind and keeping his power calm and tranquil, which was difficult when so much tension was flowing from those around him. Bleary eyed and dizzy, Aaron walked up to the three and tried to look at them even though the energies that surrounded them were nearly blinding.
"I can hear everything you are saying," he told them. "If you're going to discuss this, you might as well include me."
"Aaron," Ehlena said with a sigh. "You know about the shadow."
"Yes," he said. "I can feel it. I couldn't feel it before, but now that I know it is there, it feels like it was always there, a part of me."
"That was from the ward," Stavros said. "I hoped it would take it away completely, but it seems it only diminished it almost to nothing, but it was not always there, Aaron. I want you to know that."
"It is hard to tell the difference, Stavros," Aaron said. "I know in my thoughts that it is something else, but there are other thoughts, darker thoughts, that echo through my mind that come from the sh
adows and they feel like they are my own."
"They are not your own, Aaron," Zachary told him. "They were put there, long ago."
"I know," Aaron said. "I heard you talking earlier. It was when I as an infant, when the fire happened, when I killed them."
"You did not kill them," Zachary insisted.
"Actually, I did," Aaron said, turning to look directly at the mage. He could see the anger in him and the fire flaring and burning hot in Zachary's flows of energy. "It is the truth. I know it was not intentional. I was an infant when it happened, but it was my power that destroyed them and I understand why the Ansari take it so seriously. True fire is a terrible power."
"Aaron, there is more that you must know," Stavros said. "You may have used your power and yes it may have caused great harm, but it was to protect yourself from the shadow, the same power that afflicts you now. Your parents, your mother and her husband, were trying to protect you and you must know that they would have died if it meant that you would live."
"Do you think King Gregor would have sacrificed himself for the child of another man?" Aaron asked, his words echoing in the cavern amid the silence. After a moment, Stavros answered him.
"Gregor would have, yes," the mage told him. "Had he known the truth, he would have been angry and I am sure that he and Zachary would have most certainly had words, to say the least, but Gregor would have protected you and your mother, especially from the dark power that came after you, the power we now know to be that of the dark god."
"But why me?" Aaron asked. "Why did the dark god want me?"
"Because, Aaron," Ehlena said. "You are something new in this world, and in some ways, something very old. Your power is different and that was obvious from the moment you were born and he covets all power, especially the kind of power that you have, for you might one day challenge him."
"And Cerric knew of this? Why did he not have me killed when I was at Maramyr?"
"Cerric did not know of your power," Ehlena said. "Like the goddess within me, Cerric now has the power of a god within him, and it is that god, the god of the book, the god of the shadow, that has wanted your power since the day you were born."
Book of One 04: A Child of Fire Page 24