Knight Fall (The Champion Chronicles Book 1)

by Brad Clark

  Brace blushed. “Not all of us are,” he said softly. “We are still killers at heart. It is what we do.”

  “And why are you here? For peace? You are not all killers.”

  Brace reached into his tunic and pulled out the wax sealed message that the king had given him. He handed it to Mirfar, hoping that he was as truly honorable as he seemed. The old man wrapped it up in a piece of hide and handed it to Kirwin, who took it and stuffed it inside his own shirt.

  “They will leave soon and will return in four days. Two days there, two back,” Mirfar said. “We will remain here until they return. You will rest and heal some more.”

  Brace nodded his acknowledgment. He still did not buy into the fact that he had to give away the message. He had made a vow to the king that he would deliver it himself. But then again, Brace thought with great sorrow, he has broken many such vows.

  ***

  Conner adjusted the shield, gripping the inside leader strap tightly with his right hand. His left hand lightly gripped his wooden practice sword and he swung it several times, ensuring that he had a good feel for the sword’s weight. He was getting better with fighting left-handed, but he was still slower than everyone else. There wasn’t a time when he actually ever won a practice match. But he knew it was working. There was no doubt about that. The strength and skill of his left hand was slowly catching up to that of his right. Goshin promised that someday he would be able to fight with either hand as any Sak’Hurai could. But Goshin always stressed that someday was really some year, far into the future.

  He was also getting less and less tired each day. He figured the more he trained, the more tired he would be. And at first, that’s the way it was. But Conner had suddenly noticed that he wasn’t constantly feeling like he wanted to take a nap all the time. Arms and legs didn’t ache as much, or as long. The blisters on his hands had calloused. But most importantly, he knew he was getting stronger. He could see on the faces of the squires when he connected with a solid hit. It actually hurt them as much as he was hurt when they struck him.

  Today ended the week’s training, which meant that they would have tomorrow off. Well, everyone else would have tomorrow off. Conner would still work with Goshin. But at least he would only have one training session instead of two. The training session was also lighter today because they would end it with some one-on-one practice sessions. Each squire was matched up and they would fight using tournament rules. But rather than the blunt steel that was used for tournaments, they would still use their wooded swords. They couldn’t kill or even cause much damage, but it still hurt. Head shots were not allowed, as this was still training. A strike on a limb was one point and strike to the body was two points. The first fighter to ten, as scored by their instructor, was declared the winner.

  They trained in a yard behind the stables. There was some grass, but it was mostly dirt now from the squires’ long hours of training. A large open window about halfway up the castle wall allowed spectators to look down upon the training in the comfort and protection from sun, wind, or rain. Occasionally a curious knight would settle down at the window and watch his future warriors battle it out. But every once in a while, when the castle was quiet, and there was little else to do, someone of a little higher stature would make an appearance.

  ***

  “I am sure there are other ways to spend our time,” the tall girl whined. Her long and curly brown hair flowed across her shoulders and halfway down her back. “We could ride through the country, or walk through the garden. Anything but this!”

  Princess Elissa looked out the big open window. The skies were gray without a hint of blue. It even smelled like it was going to rain. She turned to her friend and said. “Melanie, it is going to rain. We just had our hair done and I will not have it ruined by a ride in the rain.” She smiled a sweet smile while Melanie pouted. She could have just said that she was the princess and this is what they were doing. But it just didn’t feel right. Melanie was her friend and she genuinely liked her and liked spending time with her. “When the weather clears, and the sun comes out, then we shall ride.”

  Melanie plopped on one of the cushioned seats that an attendant had carried up three flights of stairs. “They are all dirty and sweaty,” Melanie protested. “I bet they stink, too.”

  Princess Elissa sat down next to her friend and looked out the window upon the squire’s training ground. Conner was there, as she was told he would be. She watched him closely as he swung the wooden sword, pretending to stab, then to slash. Then he suddenly stopped at looked up and their eyes locked.

  And when their eyes locked, Conner lost all feeling in his limbs. She was there with her friend, a girl that he had seen before, but had never met. When she smiled at him, he lost his breath. He did not understand what this meant. Yes, she was beautiful, but the girl next to her was pretty, too. Yes, she was the princess, but was that it? Was this feeling that was so excruciatingly painful and joyful just because she was the princess? A bead of sweat started high on his back and made its way down to his waist. He let the itching sensation come and go while he held her smile with his eyes.

  She gave him a little wave and then he caught a flash of movement. At the very last moment, he lifted his shield across his body to protect his head. The sword struck hard, hard enough to send him to the ground. If he had been an instant slower, the sword would have caved in the side of his head. His heart exploded, he could feel blood pumping adrenaline through his body, driving his reserve energy stores to his limbs.

  He had not heard the start of the match, and if he had a moment to think about it, he would have thought that the instructor had intentionally started it when he was distracted. But he didn’t have time to think, he only had time to react.

  With him fighting with his left hand, and his opponent fighting with his right hand, it meant that the traditional use of the shield as a defensive weapon was not very useful. But it also meant that it was useful as an offensive weapon. As soon as Conner found his feet, his opponent, a much older squire named Eyron, used his shield in just that manner. The shield struck Conner in the face sending him back onto the ground and stars flashing in his eyes. Conner rolled, avoiding a sword strike while he was down, and kept rolling until he was out of range and could collect himself and get back on his feet. Conner attacked with his sword, but his left hand was still much slower and weaker than the squire’s right hand. Thrust, parry, slash, parry, thrust again, parry again. No matter what Conner tried, the squire easily countered him.

  But what made Conner angrier than anything, was that Conner knew he could beat him. If he could ditch the shield, change from the heavy and thick longsword to a light Sak’turana, he would dance around this buffoon. But he used the traditional blunt force style of fighting that everyone was taught. Conner could predict the squire’s movements, calling them out in his head. He even knew how he would counter and attack, if he weren’t forced to use these stupid wooden weapons.

  It wasn’t long before Conner lost his patience and pressed the attack, opening up his side for Eyron to smack him hard. Conner winced at the blow and his anger escalated. He stepped back to let his side recover from the blow. He knew there was going to be a big bruise there in the morning. It had been a solid hit from the flat of the wooden sword. He ignored the pain and sprung forward, ignoring everything that he had been taught. His only thought was on defeating the squire who had made him look bad in front of the princess. In quick succession, before Conner quire realized what had happened, he was slapped on the leg, then on the arm, and then finally on the side again. The last strike was in the same location as the first hit and it sent a shockwave through his body that caused him to fall to his knees. Gripping his side, he accepted his defeat and sulked off the field without a glance back up to the princess.

  Princess Elissa watched with her mouth agape, too stunned to say anything.

  Melanie, however, did not hold back. “That is your champion?” She let out a snort. “He was beaten t
o the ground!”

  Melanie went on, but Princess Elissa did not hear. She watched him walk off the field, shoulders hunched, sword dragging on the ground. It was a mistake. This whole champion thing was a mistake. That wasn’t the same young man who had saved her life in the woods. That was a little boy running away with his tail between his legs. She fumed with anger at her own stupidity. This boy could not protect her or save her from killers. He had killed to protect her, to save her life. But she had seen with her own eyes that he could not even stand up to a squire. How then could he stand up to a real threat? What had happened in the woods was just lucky, she realized. He really wasn't the man she thought he would be.

  He was still walking away when she stood up, ignoring the prattle coming from Melanie. His shield was still strapped to his right hand and he dragging the ugly wooden sword with his left. She looked at the other squires, most of whom were cheering on two other combatants. Their swords were in their right hands. That made her think, and then she became even angrier. Why was he using his left hand? Why was he trying to lose the fight? She stomped off furiously, too angry to cry.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Conner looked into the closet and cringed. Partly because of what he saw and partly because he moved again. His side still hurt and even Goshin realized that his wound was more than just sore. The purple bruise was as ugly as it was painful. With regret, Goshin let Conner have the day off to rest his side. However, instead of being sent to his barracks for resting, he was sent to the tailor.

  “Oh, Conner,” Filbert Crossin said with a heavy sigh. The finely dressed tailor had shown Conner the best of the best, and the response that he got was not one that he had expected. He had expected that Conner would drool with excitement at the intense colors of the fine silk clothes, expertly and painstakingly stitched by the finest clothiers of the Taran Empire. “These are the clothes that even the emperor would wear! They were delivered over land some years ago to avoid the harsh salt of the sea that would linger with the clothes forever. Yearly, these caravans would come with a handful of clothes, and invariably, the caravans would lose one or two with each crossing.” He waved his hand at the closet full of clothes and continued talking. “At least a dozen good men have given their lives so that we can have the finest clothes the world could offer.”

  Conner walked into the closet, fingering the doublets, cloaks, hose, tunics, leggings, and other garments that he did not have a name for. They were full of colors, some that he had never even considered for clothes, and some he had only seen on the ladies of the castle. Dresses full of the bright reds and greens and blues on the young ladies was fine, but he could not picture himself in them.

  "Other squires and knights wear these?" Conner asked.

  “A young courtier, one who has the eyes and ears of the princess should be dressed as finely as he can,” Filbert said with a nasally tone, his eyes narrow and thin lips stretched into a permanent grimace.

  “I am just a peasant boy,” Conner said softly.

  “You walk straight and tall, with confidence and purpose,” Filbert said. “You may pretend that you are a simple boy, but there is much more to you than what is on the surface. You are to mingle with royalty, so you should dress the part.”

  “Royalty…” Conner repeated.

  “Here, this bright blue tunic will make you look the part. And looking the part is what counts.” Filbert held up the tunic for Conner to see. It was thin silk that would easily tear if he were to wear it out in the woods, but it did look comfortable. “With this thick leather belt, and a pair of dark blue hose, you will look as if you belong.”

  Conner took the clothes from Filbert, fingering them, and wondering how they would look on him. But more importantly, he wondered if he would indeed feel like he belonged. He knew he didn’t. He knew where he stood in the scheme of things. He wasn’t royalty and would never be. Only the gods could declare who was to be king. He could never be a knight for he had the wrong blood flowing through his veins. Only those with the right pedigree would ever take the training and kneel before the king and become one of the greatest warriors that had ever walked the earth. But he was taking the training. The same training that the other squires were getting. And then he smiled to himself. He really was not getting the same training. His arms were hard, and his body lean and toned. But it wasn’t because of what he did with the squires. It was Goshin. His evil teacher who pushed and pushed, and then pushed some more. But the muscles were no longer sore. His chest no longer heaved with pain when he ran around the city. He would be better than a knight. Better than any knight.

  He looked around for a private place to change, but there was none. Filbert stood a few steps away, looking bored as he always did. He turned his back to the tall and the thin man quickly switched out his dirty garments for the fine silk ones.

  Clad in his fresh silk, he walked the halls with his head held high. He had no purpose, other than to show off his new clothes. He meandered from one corridor to another, taking a path that had the most voices. The finely dressed courtiers that walked the halls themselves all nodded their head to him, not caring who was in the clothes. He smiled back. Soon he was getting comfortable with the nods and the smiles. Faces that he recognized no longer looked down upon him, but acknowledged him as an equal. And that’s how he felt. Finally, as an equal.

  He ate lunch on the lawn behind the castle, overlooking the crashing waves of the ocean. It was a surprising invitation and he still did not know who it was that invited him. But as he was striding purposefully, he came across a group of slightly older men and ladies, all finely dressed as he was. Two servants walked behind, caring large baskets full of food. He had long since stopped only nodding to those who passed him by, but offered a word or two of greeting. After a short conversation later, he was given the invitation to join them on the cliffs.

  The lunch was a good meal of dark bread, cheese, and fruit. He would have preferred something a bit meatier, but it was tasty none-the-less. With his belly full, and the conversation of the weather and late spring flowers grown dull, he leaned back on his elbows and looked out across the bay. Somewhere over there was a different land. The Empire of Taran. He had rarely thought about the empire, but now, as he looked across the wide expanse of water, he wondered what it was like. He had heard a little about it, mostly stories from the other villagers who had heard stories from travelers. Some of the tales, such as wizards walking the streets casting spells left and right seemed just a bit too fantastic. But others, of grand cities stretching for miles upon miles, boggled his mind.

  “My young man,” one of the courtiers said, interrupting his thoughts. Mayfair was the eldest son of one of the king’s advisors. He had lived his entire life at the castle, only making his way into the city when absolutely necessary. He spoke with the same nasally tone as Filbert did. It was an odd tone, and it seemed entirely unnecessary. It was as if they wanted to speak differently than everyone else. “Your eyes look far and wide across the bay. What thoughts do you have this day?”

  Mayfair sat down next to Conner, joining him in looking across the water. Conner wanted to laugh at the self-described poet, but he held it in. He was tall and thin, and didn’t seem to have an inch of muscle on his entire body. He probably had never lifted anything more than a hair brush his entire life.

  “Taran,” Conner said. “Just thinking about what it would be like to visit there.”

  A couple others joined them on the soft green grass. Robert was another son of some lord from the south part of the kingdom. Lauran and Gayle were both children of knights. Their brothers were squires in training, but they spent their days in the castle, waiting for a husband to take them out of the castle. They were both young and pretty, but could barely hold a conversation.

  “Oh,” Lauran said, fear spreading across her face. “That is an evil place. I hear they sacrifice their first born to their god, Wartell.”

  The others murmured agreement.

  Mayfair l
aughed. “You are silly young children”. He seemed to be the leader of the group of courtiers, possibly the eldest, but also clearly the smartest. “Taran is a grand empire of incredible culture. They have the greatest scientists, able to move water from the rivers around their great cities to the center of town without so much a bucket. They have medicines that can cure diseases that would fall the greatest knight. And their works of art are beyond belief. Paintings and sculptures. Poetry and works of literature that would make the strongest man cry like a baby.”

  “You have been there?” someone asked.

  “Yes,” Mayfair said softly to the astonishment of them all. His voice was low and soft. “When I was young, my father went on a diplomatic mission to Tara, their capital city. I was young, four I think. All their streets are cobblestone, but smoothed from a thousand years of foot traffic. Their buildings, stone structures built to withstand eternity, stretched as far as one could see.” He paused to look back over his shoulder. The city of South Karmon could be seen behind them, stretching quite a ways in the distance. But beyond, they could see the forests. “Our city would be but a small section of Tara. Of the memories that I have, I remember looking out from a small tower of the emperor’s palace, and seeing nothing but stone buildings and wood houses. We can see the trees of the forest from here, but from the center of Tara, the only thing you see is more city.”

  Conner listened intently and was enthralled. He had lived his life in the forests, hunting for his food, huddling close to the warmth of the fire during the cold winter months. And when he came to South Karmon, he was amazed. The castle was impressive, but the city was just as amazing. There were so many houses and buildings. More than he could have ever imagined in one place. But as Mayfair continued to describe the city of Tara, Conner became enchanted with his poetic descriptions. He described stone buildings that were bigger than their castle, taller than the tallest tower. Some were wider and bigger than the entire grounds of the castle, including the gardens. His mind wandered as he pictured himself walking the cobblestone streets, filled to the brim with people walking here and there. The tall buildings sending shadows across the streets. With Mayfair’s poetic voice, he knew he was there, even if it was only in his mind.