by Candy Rae
“It can be a strenuous time,” admitted a rueful Markion.
“That’s the cookhouse over there,” he said pointing to the kitchen and dining complex. “We’ll eat there later. Everyone eats together in the Vada. It’s always been like that, even in the early days, makes for cohesiveness. Lind eat there too if they want to but they also like to hunt for live meat.”
“Like the Larg,” said Philip, “I’ve met some; their envoys attend Court on an irregular basis.”
“What’re they like?” asked Markion.
“Most unpleasant,” answered Philip, “not at all like the few Lind I have had the good fortune to meet. I hope it is your destiny to live out your life without encountering any.”
“So do we all here,” Markion replied. “The Larg are the sworn enemies of our Lind and if we were to meet I fear it would be in battle. We of the Vada are sworn to defend. You have fought the Larg?”
“Not personally, they haven’t attacked in any numbers for many years now but there are skirmishes on the borders, the Larg are quick to take offence and even quicker to fight if they think anything of theirs is threatened. Our external borders are very well marked but on occasion some people stray over. Very few return.”
They had arrived at the first of the two practice fields.
“This is where we do mounted practice,” Markion told them. “You can watch from that fence.”
Elliot took up a position beside Markion, Robain on his other side while James and Philip took a stance a little distance away.
“I thought so,” announced Markion, “it’s the third years, see the three white stripes on their sleeves?”
“What are they doing?” asked Elliot.
“Battle practice. They will form up into three ranks, we call a rank a ryz. The man and Lind facing them is the Weaponsmaster, they’ll direct them. You won’t hear him shouting out orders, his Lind will relay them telepathically to the cadet Lind. If Danya was here she’d relay the orders to us but as she isn’t we‘ll just have to watch. Look, they’re drawing their swords.”
Elliot held his breath.
The front rank began to move forward at the trot. An instant later the second rank followed then the third.
They trotted for perhaps twenty paces then changed gait into a steady run, straight for, Elliot realised, the Weaponsmaster and his Lind. Surely they would be run over? The cadets were silent, their Lind were silent, each pair concentrating on keeping their place. As they reached the Weaponsmaster and his Lind cowered down and those approaching him changed gait again and leapt over them, an action copied by those behind. After they had passed the two stood up and turned to watch the second part of their mock attack. The ranks peeled round at the bottom of the field and ran back to their original positions, still in silence and with a minimum of fuss.
“They’ll keep on doing it until Weaponsmaster Jilmis is satisfied,” Markion said. “He’s a hard taskmaster, always looking for perfection and rarely getting it. He’s good though, one of the best.”
“Who is one of the best?” asked a strange voice behind them and they all turned.
“Niaill.” exclaimed Markion. “Great Andei’s pawprints! Where did you spring from?”
“We got in yesterday,” said the stranger. “I’m waiting a few days then me and Taraya are off to her rtath, Long Leave.”
“You lucky beggar, dinner tonight?”
“I’d love to,” Niaill answered, “but I’ll have to forgo the pleasure of your brother’s cooking. Danal’s due in, he sent word and we’ve a lot to talk about.” Niaill turned a face alive with interest in the direction of the four visitors.
“These are Baron Ross, Kellen Cocteau and Kellen Merriman from the south and Captain Hallam of the Garda,” Markion introduced them.
“My pleasure gentlemen,” said Niaill with a short bow which the four returned.
“Heard you had some trouble up north,” said Markion conversationally.
“We routed a pack of brigands in the mountains. They’d been playing merry hell in the area.”
“Do you have a lot of trouble with bandits and brigands?” asked Philip. “We’ve got them as well. Always thought a hanging too good for them.”
“Then we agree on that matter at least,” replied Niaill. He glanced over at the practice field, intending to change the subject. “Battle practice I see. Seems only yesterday that Taraya and I were suffering the same torment. They’ll be sweaty and sore before the class is finished.”
“They’re very good,” offered Elliot. “I’d hate to have to face them in a battle.”
“Take that thought with you when you return home my young acquaintance,” said Niaill with a laugh. “The times when Vadath and Murdoch waged war on each other are long gone.”
“Amen to that,” injected James. “I don’t want to meet them either.”
They heard a bell clang.
“End of class,” explained Markion. “What would you like to see now?”
“We’ve an appointment with Susa Julia,” Robain reminded him.
“So you have, so we’d better head over in that direction. What about you two?” he asked James and Elliot.
Elliot looked uncertainly at Philip.
“I can take them on,” said Niaill, “I’ve a bell or two to kill.”
“Could we see the armoury?” asked James.
“Course you can,” said Niaill. “We’ll go to the cookhouse after,” he added and turned to Markion, “meet us there?”
“If it’s not too much trouble?” queried Elliot.
“No trouble at all I assure you,” Niaill answered. “I need to speak to the armourers anyway. I’ve a small nick in my sword that needs attention. May as well kill two xrndli with one stone as my brother would say.”
By now the practice field was filling up with the next class. The riders looked smaller and younger than the previous one although their Lind were the same size.
“First years,” noted Niaill, watching them forming up. “This class won’t be nearly as interesting. Lots of falling off and squeals of pain. More of a riding class really.”
“None of them are wearing swords,” noted Elliot.
“Quite right young Kellen,” smiled Niaill, “it’ll be as much as they can manage to hold on.”
“So can we go to the armoury now?” asked James in a plaintive voice.
The three of them headed up the hill towards the buildings.
The visit to the armoury was more interesting than Elliot had expected. The Head Armourer, a gnarled old man with old burn marks liberally bespeckling his arms showed them his domain with much pride and even let James help with the bellows as he repaired Niaill’s sword.
“That there,” he said, pointing a bent finger to the swords at James’s belt, “is of southern make. Used to be called scimitars a long time ago.”
“Did they?” asked James. “I didn’t know that. We call them swords.”
“Much of what we all used to know is lost now,” the old man pronounced in an enigmatic voice.
For lunch Niaill led them to the cookhouse where Elliot and James ate their fill of the tasty food on offer. The dining area was large and filled with long tables and stools. For the first time in their lives, they were each given a tray and followed Niaill to the servery hatches where cooks were waiting to ladle out portions of what they asked for. The helpings were large but both boys managed to clear their trays, James even going back for a second helping of the stew it was that good.
Elliot contented himself with another ripe yellowfruit, one of his favourites. They were considered an expensive delicacy in Murdoch but here they were piled high in bowls at the end of the servery hatches and Niaill laughingly told him to help himself to as many as he wanted.
“Market is full of them,” he said, “always is this time of year. Now, you mentioned that you wanted to speak to one of the cadets? This might be a good time.”
“I’ve got a letter to deliver to her,” Elliot informed h
im, “from her sister. We met on the way here.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rilla. Rilla Talansdochter.”
“I don’t know her,” admitted Niaill, “but if you hang on I’ll go find her for you.”
When Rilla appeared, Elliot was surprised. He had imagined she would be like either the pretty, vivacious Zilla or the tall, confident Hilla.
She was neither, being slim, dark and shy. Only in the area of her mouth did she resemble her sisters.
“Ryzcka Niaill said you wanted to speak to me?” she asked in a quiet voice that just matched her appearance.
“Er, yes,” said Elliot, “me and my friend here, we stayed at your father’s inn and your sister asked me if I could give this to you.” He handed over the letter.
“From Zilla. Oh thank you so much. I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I understand,” said Elliot who knew the reason behind her comment.
“She is well?” Rilla asked, holding the precious letter against her.
“Very well,” confirmed Elliot, “she talked about you a lot.”
Rilla looked at him, “will you, will you be returning the same way? I could …”
Elliot shook his head. “I regret.”
“I understand,” Rilla said, “there’s the bell, I must go,” and she turned and sped away, much as Elliot would have liked to talk to her further. He hadn’t even had the chance to tell her that Robain had in his possession another letter, this one from Hilla. He supposed Robain would seek her out another time, shrugged and bent his energies to the yellowfruit.
By the time he and James had finished their meal, Philip and Robain had not yet made their appearance so Niaill arrived back to ‘claim his kuras’.
“Rilla see you?” he demanded.
“Yes,” answered James, “but she had to go.”
“Class,” acknowledged Niaill. “The cadets are kept busy, especially the third and fourth stripes. Coming? Plenty more to see.”
Elliot and James were happy to remain with Niaill. He was an interesting conversationalist and regaled them with stories and legends about the Vada interspaced with anecdotes about him and his Taraya.
“Thought we might go visit the Inner Sanctum,” he said.
“What is that?” asked Elliot, “a chapel?”
“The Inner Sanctum is a place of peace, where we remember what has gone before, who has gone before I should say. You’ll see; it is interesting as well as being peaceful. Right over here.”
The building stood on its own in the midst of a garden of sweet smelling dalina flowers. Elliot recognised them by their smell - they were a favourite of his mother.
“We go in here,” said Niaill opening the door and ushering them inside. Both boys blinked as their eyes adjusted to the dim light. The celestery windows that provided the light were shuttered. Niaill opened them using a long pole with a peculiar end with which he opened the catches pulling them back with the comment, “now we will be able to see.”
Elliot and James turned a full circle examining the room. It was octagonal in shape as was the roof, the walls of varnished wood. One of the eight sides held the door. On the other seven walls were boards filled with names in silver leaf. Five were titled Susa. The first four of these had ten names each, with dates, the fifth had three names. Above the door was a smaller board with two lines of lettering.
Niaill saw them looking.
“These five are the names of all the Susas, ten to a board. Susa Julia and Alfei are the forty-fourth to command. When they resign, or die, their names are added. Look, here are Susa Francis and Asya, the very first and the founders of the Vada then Tina and Daltei who followed them and here,” he moved over to the second board, “are Lynsey and Bernei, heroes of the Battle of Fountains Head in AL167. They were Susyc; that is the overall commanders of the Armies of the North. There have only been two, Jim and his Larya and Lynsey and Bernei. Theirs is that small, dull board above the door.”
“What are the other two boards?” asked James. “They’re empty.”
“For the future but you and I’ll be dead and gone by the time they are used.”
“What are the leather books on the table?” asked Elliot in a whisper. The room was saying ‘peace’ even though its contents were a commemoration of war.
“That big one is known as ‘The Book of the Fallen’,” Niaill explained. “It’s not the first volume; I think it’s the seventh. In this the Vada chronicler records all the names of those who have died performing their duty, together with a short resume of their lives and how they died. In that casement over there are books and books covering the complete list of Vada members from earliest times. They contain information about those who lived to enjoy a well earned retirement, in the majority these days thank the lai.”
“And the other book? The blue one?”
“That is the ‘Honour Roll’,” said a respectful Niaill. “In it are inscribed those who have been awarded the Honour Star. The Honour Star is the Vada’s reward for supreme bravery, not for us the different medals for one campaign and another. They are silver and are worn on the collar. Even cadets have been awarded them in the past; a long time ago. Very few are awarded nowadays. I cannot remember any and me and Taraya have been serving for quite a fair number of years. I don’t think there’s any alive who have been awarded the honour.”
James had wandered over to the wall boards.
“It’s like being in the history books, Lynsey and Bernei, Rhian and Tadei, I remember reading about them,” he turned to Niaill and his eyes were caught by some lettering inscribed into the wood of the ceiling. “What is that?”
“Our motto. It is what we of the Vada live by.”
Elliot read them out.
“Truth … Duty …Courage and Honour.”
He marvelled. There was nothing remotely like this at home. He rather thought he would have liked to be part of all this rather than being heir to his grandfather’s throne.
* * * * *
Niaill and Danal
Danal and Asya arrived at Vada barely a bell after Elliot and James had been persuaded to go back to the inn by an exhausted Niaill.
The two brothers greeted each other with much laughter and back-slapping.
“Well met,” exclaimed Niaill.
“Well met indeed little brother, I’ve been hearing things, good things about you and Taraya. Keep going like this and you will be the next Susa.”
“Lai forbid,” replied Niaill. “I wouldn’t have Julia and Alyei’s job for all the kala on the planet. What brings you here?”
“I’m on duty.”
“On duty? Here? At the Stronghold? What’s up? Never thought there were any secrets here for the Avuzdel to spy out.”
“It’s a special sort of duty,” said Danal. “I’m guarding someone, several persons in fact.”
Now, Niaill, as his brother had always known, was quick off the mark (too quick as some of the younger vadeln in his Ryzck said).
“Guard duty? Protection? Not those southerners and that Garda Captain I’ve been showing around?”
“The very same.”
“But what’s so important about them?” asked a perplexed Niaill. “We’ve had scions of southern nobility here before and they’ve not had Avuzdel guarding them. I took the younger two round this afternoon, we visited the Inner Sanctum and they seemed quite ordinary, or are they?”
“Keep your voice down Niaill and keep it to yourself, it’s the younger one, calls himself Kellen Merriman, he’s really the Prince-Heir to the throne of Murdoch.”
“Never. Why, a more polite young man I’ve never met. He’s not the heir?”
“The very same,” grinned Danal, “and yours truly is the hidden bodyguard. He doesn’t know about Asya and me but we’ve been shadowing them since they left Settlement. Done a pretty good job so far too if I say so myself.”
“Why you?”
“Three ruffians got into the inn where they were staying and tried to
kill the prince. Trouble at home apparently; he’d not be the first prince someone wants out of the way. They failed. One assassin was killed and another taken prisoner. One of the companions of the prince was wounded and unable to carry on. Captain Hallam was ordered to take his place and then I was brought in as insurance. Captain Hallam was told that an unobtrusive eye would be kept on them, he wasn’t told any details but I expect he knows.”
“What about the third assassin?”
“Asya and I took care of him a day out of Settlement. He was good, but not good enough. He did talk though, before we dealt with him, whoops, I meant before he met with his fatal accident, not that anything he could have said would have saved him. Asya and I had our orders.”
“So what now?” asked Niaill.
“We keep tailing until we’re told otherwise. Susa Julia and Alyei know by the way, she was intending to inform the Baron and the Captain about me. The prince and his companion are not to be told. The elder two will keep council and are probably relieved that the Avuzdel are here. They’ll not act any different. The two youngsters are a different matter.”
“They’re still in danger?”
“Better safe than sorry. If the prince were to die either in Argyll or Vadath the political repercussions would be enormous so every precaution must be taken. Asya and I are ‘every precaution’.”
“You’re Avuzdel,” Niaill said as if that explained everything. “So how long do you have?”
“They’re staying about three days,” Danal answered. “You?”
“I’ll wait with you,” decided Niaill. “It’s a Long Leave so we can afford to wait a few days. Then we’re off to Taraya’s rtathlians. It’s been a while. Nadala and Teriyei aren’t coming this time; she’s going to nisit relations in Argyll. You can tell me all about the adventures you must have been having, you know, spying, the odd theft and the like.”
“In return?”
“A good meal at the Raging Jezdic and a full and detailed rendition about what’s been happening within the Ryzck.
“Two meals,” countered Danal.
“Two meals,” laughed Niaill, “as long as you come up to the picnic mound with me tomorrow. I’ve got an urge to see it again.”