“It’s the boots.” Jonas looked up to see Allindrian glide towards him, her movement as smooth and graceful as always. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
“Not really. What do you mean it’s the boots?”
“My guess is they are enchanted for speed. You didn’t notice it but you were moving rather quickly, for a human that is,” Allindrian added with a smile. “Where did you get them?”
“From Shyann,” Jonas said, not sure exactly what to say.
“But you are not wearing the clothes and armor of a cavalier,” Allindrian questioned. “Does she have a different role for you now?”
“She does. When the Ekahal’s healed me, they sealed the Forsworn’s magic into the talisman, but their magic also blocked me from Shyann, forever. I can no longer be a cavalier.”
Allindrian reached out to touch his hand, gently holding his gloved hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Jonas. I really am.”
“Me too. But I am not helpless. She gave me these clothes, this armor, and my new swords, although they are the same blades as before.”
“They don’t look like it. I can’t even see the blades in these shadows. And I could barely see you. It was like you were part of the darkness, blending in completely,” Allindrian added.
Jonas smiled. “I think that is the point. She asked me to be her new shadow knight…her warrior that will fight in her name in the places where a cavalier could not venture. She wants me to try and help people before they get corrupted, before they find themselves slaves to the Forsworn.”
“And you could not do this as a cavalier as you would stand out. You would be incapable of infiltrating their networks, of working in the shadows. It is a sound idea.”
“Well, if I am to be her shadow knight, I better get used to these new gifts,” Jonas added as he looked at his feet.
“I think your body is not accustomed to the boots and it caused you to trip. Perhaps we should spar so you can get the feel of them.”
“I would like that. But I am painfully remembering the last training tips you gave me. I can still hear the smack of wood on flesh,” Jonas added with a smile.
“You were just a boy then.”
“And now?” Jonas asked as he held his arms out wide, as if he were presenting himself for inspection.
Allindrian smiled. “Now you are a man,” she paused, “and as a man, surely it will not be so easy to disarm you.”
This time it was Jonas’s turn to smile. “Let us see, shall we?”
Allindrian didn’t say anything, but her answer came in the form of her sword being withdrawn from the sheath on her hip. She only had one blade to Jonas’s two, but she did not seem worried. “Let us start slow, so you can get a feel for your new speed.”
“Very well.”
They began their movements slowly. Allindrian allowed Jonas to take the lead as he eased into the dance. He picked up his speed rather quickly and Allindrian had no trouble keeping up with him, blocking his blades with her silver sword. Then her sword begun to sing, and the tempo of the music matched their speed as Jonas pushed even further, moving in a blur as he sought an opening in her defenses.
Jonas felt a bit strange at first, like his mind was dragging behind his body, fouling up his movements. The stumbles were very subtle. In fact most observers would not have noticed them, but to Jonas they seemed glaring. Allindrian saw them as well, but didn’t push him as he acclimated himself to his newfound speed. But as he picked up speed, and confidence, she too narrowed her focus until both warriors moved with a speed and grace never before witnessed by the guards in the courtyard.
Both combatants were sweating, and Jonas felt alive as his body moved more fluidly than it ever had. Smiling with glee, Jonas lunged forward with his right blade. His smiled disappeared quickly as he realized he had been lulled into a false state of confidence. Allindrian moved faster than anyone he had ever seen, side stepping to Jonas’s right, simultaneously deflecting Jonas’s blade, reversing the direction of her weapon and smacking Jonas on his side, leaping away before he could launch a counterstrike.
It was a brilliant move. She had moved to the side of his body that he could not reach quickly enough with his other blade. Normally, he could have easily pivoted his body and brought his other blade to bear, blocking the attack. But Allindrian was too fast. Even with his enhanced speed he could not move his body fast enough to position his opposite sword for the block. His magical armor probably would have protected him from most attacks, but it would have done little good against Allindrian’s sword if she had used the bladed edge.
As soon as she halted her movement, the singing disappeared, and Jonas was left staring at her with a shocked expression. “How did you move that fast?”
“What do you mean,” she countered as she lowered her blade. “I am that fast.”
Jonas smiled and shook his head. “I’ve seen you move quickly before. But that was different.”
“I move as fast as the situation requires. You are very good Jonas, and now, very fast. The speed was needed to defeat you.”
Jonas sheathed his blades as well. “Do you think I will ever be that fast?”
“I do not know. It is unlikely, as you do not have elf blood. The boots and gloves you wear both enhance your speed, and with time, you will master their enchantments. As you progress with your swordsmanship, that too will add to your speed. Do they feel strange to you?”
“A bit. I feel as if my mind and movement are not synced,” Jonas answered.
“I think that will fade as you become more comfortable with them. You are very good. Kiln has taught you well,” she added.
“Thank you.”
“Keep in mind, you are very young, and have only been using the sword for a blink compared to the time that my hands have been wrapped around the handle of this blade. Your skills will progress.”
“Do you think you could beat him?”
“Him?” she asked, knowing full well who he was speaking of.
“Kiln.”
“Kiln is the deadliest human I have ever met. It is not just his skill with the blade, it is his tenacity, his drive, his utter lack of fear that makes him dangerous. Even so, I do not think that Kiln could best me with a blade…but could I beat him?” Allindrian paused. “I do not know. Fights are not duels. Fights are won with skill, courage, fearlessness…the ability to take risks, to be daring, and Kiln is a master of all these things. With someone like Kiln, you never know what might happen.”
Jonas looked up and noticed that the darkness was starting to take on a different hue, a shade of dark red.
“The sun is waking from its slumber,” Allindrian said, following his gaze. “Let us head to the main gate. I’m sure everyone will be gathering soon.”
It was not yet dawn but the small group was already waiting in the dark at the inner gate, prepared for the short journey and outfitted for war. They packed light since the trip to the Shadow Plains and the Ullis Hill would take less than a day. They were all mounted on sturdy horses and the atmosphere around them resonated with the seriousness of the mission. They had to claim the ancient weapons of Finarth if they hoped to defeat the Dark One and the Shan Cemar. But they were each apprehensive in their own way as they had no idea what threats they might face when they reached the monument. One thing was certain. Whatever guarded those weapons would be formidable and terrifying.
Kiln was not there to see them off as he was still healing from his attack. Luckily Kiln had made it to the guards before he bled out. If he had not had the strength to stumble to the guard’s anteroom, than in all likelihood he would have died from the ghastly wound. Jonas had visited Kiln for most of the night, which mattered little as he was having difficulty sleeping anyway. The castle was on heightened alert and the soldiers were tense and furious at the same time. Their weapons master had been killed dishonorably, stabbed in the back by an assassin, the same one who had killed their beloved Dagrinal.
When Jonas and Allindrian arrived from the cou
rtyard there were horses already waiting, both complete with saddle bags filled with provisions for several days. They both mounted their horses and silently joined the group.
Last to arrive was King Baylin, accompanied by several assistants carrying supplies and a huge shield. Jonas looked at the shield more carefully and noticed that the front of it was embossed with the Tarsinian royal insignia, a decorative T. It was beautifully done with intricate lines and details, and the shield itself shone with a silver brilliance.
“King Kromm,” Baylin announced as he approached the Tarsinian king. “I have a small gift for you. I knew you were in need of a shield and I had this crafted for you. I hope you can put it to good use.” A servant hefted the giant shield up to Kromm who was sitting astride a large chestnut mare. Kromm grabbed the shield with one hand and tested its weight while inspecting the insignia on the front.
“It is beautiful, King Baylin. I thank you, and the insignia is perfect. Give my respects to your armorer,” Kromm said as he used the strap on the shield to flip it around and secure it on his back.
The Finarthian king nodded and mounted his own horse. “Is everyone ready?” The king addressed the formidable looking group. There was a chorus of grunts and affirmations as the king spurred his horse forward.
* * *
Tuvallis and the rest of the small group lay hidden in the tall grass looking down upon the large orc army. Their breath was visible in the cold air and patches of snow still dominated the surroundings. The night was darker than usual as thick swollen clouds had meandered in covering the flickering stars. The enemy campfires danced in the night shedding a soft light around them. They had ridden hard and had left their horses to get closer on foot. So far they had not run into any scouts. They all wore dark clothing and had spread cold black mud over their faces and hands. They wore no armor or anything else that would weigh them down or make noise, and the only weapons they carried were short swords and knives. This was going to be a mission of stealth, not brawn. And besides, if it actually came to a fight, they were completely out numbered. Armor or long swords would make little difference.
“Orin was right, I see only three siege towers,” Captain Hadrick whispered. The towers were positioned at the rear of the army, and luckily they were all located in the same area.
“Aye, but it looks like they be battering rams too,” Tuvallis said. Hadrick squinted and looked closer. Tuvallis was right. Closer inspection revealed that each of the massive towers had a huge steel capped log projecting from its front. The towers could be rolled up to a wall or gate and the ram would be used to attempt to break through the structure. If that didn’t work then the tall tower, which housed a series of stairs, would bring the attackers to the top of the wall. Each machine was a fortified set of stairs with access points every five paces allowing the towers to work on different size walls.
The catapults were located on the far side of the enemy army and they could barely be seen in the distance. They were counterpoise catapults that used a fulcrum point and heavy weight to hurl an object.
“Okay, so remember the plan,” Hadrick said. “Tuvallis, Stephy, and Bositch are responsible for the towers, while I, Sury, and Groban will make our way to the catapults. You need to give us some time to get to our marks before you set them ablaze. While your fires create havoc and distract them, we should be able to ignite the catapults.”
It was a risky plan and everyone knew it. Any number of things could go wrong. Orcs could see well at night, while they could not. If any of them were detected, it would be over.
“Remember,” Hadrick said. “If any of you are spotted, don't be a hero. We can’t fight them. Run and evade pursuit until you can get to the horses. Then make haste back to camp, but make sure you are not being pursued.”
These men were seasoned warriors and none of them said a word. They all knew the risks. The two groups nodded to each other before parting ways, disappearing like shadows into the night.
It didn’t take long for Tuvallis’s group to get near the engines. There was plenty of tall grass and sporadic trees to hide their movements, and all were adept at moving silently and remaining concealed. This was just one of the reasons why Captain Hadrick had picked them to begin with. Stephy was a bit out of practice, but he had done a lot of hunting as a child, and as he followed Bositch's movements he found that his skills came back to him quickly.
Tuvallis was like a ghost, and several times both men had to look around for him as he blended into the shadows. Years of hunting and solitude had honed his skills, and when he didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t.
The three men were huddled around a stout oak tree well beyond the light of the campfires. The engines were clearly in sight now and their size was impressive. Each machine was over forty paces high, and even though Tuvallis had never seen the Gildren Garrison, he was pretty sure that the walls would be no match for these engines. The square walls of the towers were built of solid oak, thick as an orc wrist, and the front of each tower was encased in sheets of steel for more protection. Each machine rested on four huge wheels and Tuvallis figured it would take a team of at least six oxen to move them. As he looked around he noticed a small pen east of the towers and saw flickering shadows of large oxen moving about in the darkness.
“I see only a few guards,” Bositch whispered as they carefully scanned the area. True enough, each siege engine had only one guard stationed near it. The rest of the orcs sat around a series of fires scattered throughout the area. Luckily, the fires were far enough away from the siege engines that they were covered mostly in shadow.
“I’ll take the machine on the left,” Stepy announced. “Bositch, you take the middle one and Tuvallis, you take the one on the right. If an alarm is raised before we light the fires, remember what the captain said, no hero stuff.”
Bositch just smiled and Tuvallis grunted. Then each one began the slow and silent approach to their targets.
Tuvallis crawled fifteen paces forward before he stopped to survey the scene. He glanced to his right to see if he could see his comrades moving in the tall grass. He could not, and that was good. But an orc’s vision was much better than his at night, and he tried not to think about that as he continued his slow advance. He had been told by a wizard long ago that orcs could see better at night because they could actually see body heat. He didn’t know if that was true but that thought alone made him feel naked, and it was another reason why he had suggested they rub cold mud all over their faces and hands.
As the two towers loomed in the darkness before him, he could now clearly hear the grunts and growls of the orcs. Crouching on his hands and knees, he slowly raised his head to the tops of the grass where he could get a better look. There was no avoiding it. He had to see the position of the orc guard near the engine. He cursed silently as he saw two orcs in front of him, about ten paces, crouched down by the base of one of the engines. They appeared to be playing some sort of game and were rolling something along the ground. One was clearly angry as the other continued to win. Each orc wore crude pieces of plate mail and they carried thick heavy short swords at their hips.
Tuvallis quickly took his pack off so he would have quicker access to the jars of oil and the tinderbox inside. Glancing to his left, he saw only one guard near the middle machine, but he could not see the far machine as it was positioned behind it.
How was he going to silently take out two orcs? He tossed the problem around in his head for a few seconds and none of his ideas seemed to be a plausible solution. But one had more merit than the others, and he knew he had to act fast. Stephy and Bositch would be acting quickly, and he at least wanted to be in position when they started their fires. Tuvallis drew two daggers from their sheaths and stood up from the tall grass. He was already a big man, and the wide hood and dark furs he wore made him seem even larger. Perhaps big enough for the ruse that the situation forced him to attempt.
Tuvallis walked confidently forward toward the two orcs whose backs were fac
ing him. Long ago he had learned some orcish words, but it had been so long ago that he was not sure if he recalled them correctly. They were not the choicest of words, but they may give him the time he needed.
“Short tooth’s,” Tuvallis grunted. He was told that it was a slang term that really made orcs mad. I guess he would find out. “More food for ya at the fire,” he continued in choppy orcish.
Both the orcs got up from the ground and stood up tall. They were equally his height and wider. But their stance was not offensive, so Tuvallis guessed that his orcish was at least passable.
One of the brutes stepped closer as if trying to get a better look at Tuvallis. “Who are you?” it said in orcish as his hand moved closer to his blade. “You don’t…”
Tuvallis didn’t give him time to finish his sentence. He rammed one knife straight up under the chin of the nearest orc while stepping closer and slashing his other knife across the throat of the second astonished beast. He struck so quickly that the second orc didn’t even have time to bring his hand to the hilt of his sword. The first orc died instantly while his comrade fell to the ground grasping his throat as blood pulsed through his fingers. He coughed and gurgled loudly, so Tuvallis quickly followed up the strike by pouncing on his chest and ramming the bloody knife into his brain.
He got up quickly, reclaimed his backpack, and glanced to his left towards the nearby machine. He thought he could hear a scuffle of some sort, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He took out the jugs of oil and silently went to work soaking the lower wood boards and planks. He couldn’t completely cover the machine, but he thought it would be enough to ignite the engine and he could only hope that it would become fully engulfed in flame before they could put out the fires.
Tuvallis looked one more time to his left and just caught the flicker of a spark. Bositch must be using his tinderbox to light the engine. It worried him how bright that spark was. If he could see it so easily, then so could someone else. He too used his tinderbox and on the third attempt was able to get some tinder lit, quickly placing it on one of the soaked boards which immediately burst into flame.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 17