“Tell me why.”
“Dremble and Trysen don’t like or trust the rest of us. Niles and Zek…either of them might be capable, but they aren’t aggressive by nature. Strale is only interested in healing; he should have joined to the priesthood, not the Order. Kag is a bully and they would only follow him to a point. And all Falion wants is to leave,” Dain said, feeling out of breath.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Chaney said. His tone carried an implied order, and Dain sat.
“Niles or Zek would either one be fine if it weren’t for you,” he said.
“What have I done?”
Chaney snorted. “It isn’t what you’ve done as much as what you are. You’re a Gladstone.” Chaney sat back, lit a pipe, and puffed on it. “By your very nature you’re a leader. If one of the other boys led they’d be looking over their shoulder to you all the time. You proved it just now with your assessment of each member on your squad. Though Falion might surprise you, I think.”
“Why are they here? He and Kag? Falion said it was this or prison,” Dain said.
“Truth is…” Chaney trailed off and sighed. He stared out into the darkened room. “The truth is the Order is dying. It’s a slow death to be sure, but it is dying. Half the cabins are empty and there are fewer recruits every year. Some think the way to fix that is to carve out a section of the Empire for ourselves—with a bent knee to the Emperor, of course—and that by holding land and thus power we can breathe new life into the Order.”
Chaney snorted again, this time adding a roll of his eyes. He propped his feet up on one of the other chairs, a position Dain would never have expected a Paladin to take even when relaxed, and drew deep on the pipe. He’s not like the others—not the ones I’ve ever seen, at least.
“I never knew your father or grandfather, but the Gladstone name is still a legend around here. Bental said he found you with Kilian in the atrium, so you know who’s there, and there are plenty more reminders like that. Some will resent you for it, hoping to pull you down and elevate themselves in your place. As if that wasn’t enough, you’ve another concern. Chalmer hates you with a passion I’ve rarely seen. Thinks you’re a spy.”
Dain felt his cheeks grow red. “I am not a spy.” He wadded his napkin into a tight ball in his fist. “I had to fight with my father for the right, the privilege to serve.”
Chaney’s boots jerked to the floor. “For Light’s sake, boy, keep that to yourself. If some of the other Paladins heard that, Chalmer would have a hundred men combing through the Highlands, looking for evidence of your family’s betrayal.”
The two sat in silence for a spell, and then Chaney moved to change the subject.
“Kilian said you have a good head on your shoulders about most things, and I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that I’m not used to training.”
Dain nodded, a bit surprised at the older man’s candidness.
“Truthfully, this is my first squad. I picked up a nagging injury to my knee at Thistleton last season,” Chaney said around his pipe stem. “Despite all the healing, I can’t run for more than a few hundred yards before it locks up on me. I can walk all day on it, but even riding for a few hours locks it up. It was either this or guard duty, and guard duty is boring as hell.
“A few around here, Chalmer included, don’t want me here at all, so I can understand what you’re stepping into. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, but my own sergeant did the same when I was in your spot, so I suppose it’s my duty. He just laid it all out there for me. Said ‘the others can be boys for a few more years, but not you. You’re the squadleader.’ After that, I was.”
“I understand,” Dain said.
“No, you only think you do,” Chaney said. “But you will soon enough.”
For the first month, every day was the same. An early morning run, sword training, lunch, more sword training, and then a few laps around the barracks. The first week Dain felt like his arms and legs weighed more than a horse; the second he thought they would rot and fall off. Even eating, just lifting fork to mouth, hurt.
Chaney asked him to help train the others in the sword, and he worked tirelessly with each on their grip and footwork. Even Trysen and Dremble, distrustful though they were, listened and took his advice. Kag alone refused it.
The big boy seemed to go directly against all instruction out of sheer bullheadedness. When they paired off to spar he fought wildly and sloppily, but usually won with brawn and force alone.
Too advanced for the others, Dain never fought against his squadmates. He worked only with Chaney, or offered instruction to the other boys when needed.
Late one afternoon, Chaney stopped them before they could start their evening run.
“Wait here. No laps today,” he said. He selected a pair of wooden swords and handed one to Dain and the other to Kag. Dain’s stomach dropped and he suppressed a groan.
“Is this what you asked me here for?” a voice called. From around the barracks stepped a robed young woman with golden hair. Her voice was smooth, confident, and her eyes were soft and lovely. Dain stared at her, momentarily forgetting the practice sword in his grip. He’d never seen anyone like her. He caught the other boys staring at her as well. She seemed to barely notice them and kept her eyes focused on Chaney. “I’d hoped you were taking me up on that dinner you promised.”
“After this,” Chaney smiled. “Squad, this is Yvenne, a Priestess for the Light. I can attest she’s an exceptional healer.”
Yvenne smiled at the boys each in turn, and Dain felt his heart leap when she looked his way.
“Honored to meet Chaney’s charges,” she said.
Chaney turned back to the recruits, focusing his gaze on Kag. “Look here, Kag, we’re going to solve this once and for all,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Get into the circle. Now Dain, get on that side. Dain is the squadleader, and it’s your job to follow his orders. You two are going to settle this.”
“He’s only squadleader because of his father. He doesn’t deserve it; he hasn’t earned it,” Kag said. He sneered at Dain.
Dain felt a surge of anger; not due to Kag’s words, but more because he’d said aloud what the others were surely thinking. Dremble whispered something to Trysen and they both snickered.
“He’s squadleader because he thinks like a squadleader and he acts far older than his age. He’s known true responsibility, and that’s aged him,” Chaney said. “Do you think you’d make a better one, Kag?”
“Lots better. I’m stronger and tougher,” Kag nodded.
“If you want it so bad, use your sword and beat him and then I’ll consider it. I’ve a healer here, so I don’t want either of you to hold anything back. This ends today, so give it all you’ve got.”
Dain forced down his anger. He needed to be focused to win this. Kag was bigger and, he admitted, much stronger. He was also slow and reckless and his technique was nonexistent. Like fighting a troll, Dain thought with grim humor.
Chaney looked at each boy and nodded. “Now, beg—”
Kag already moved and struck. Dain blocked his sword just an inch from his face; a blow that would have knocked him unconscious if it had landed.
When Kag pulled his weapon up to bring it down again, Dain followed him in and struck his sword arm. The blow was quick and without enough force to do damage—not with wooden swords, at least—but it stung Kag and his mouth dropped open. Dain popped him a second time, lashing low across Kag’s leg before he had time to recover.
Kag roared and charged forward, sweeping his weapon down in an arc. His sword tip whistled and Dain pivoted aside as it struck nothing but air.
Dain countered with a punch to Kag’s ribs. His knuckles stung and felt like they’d hit stone, but Kag let out a heavy puff of breath. He fell back and Dain moved with him, slamming
his wooden sword into the bigger boy’s back.
Kag slung a fist around and connected with Dain’s shoulder, throwing him away. He lurched up, roaring, and rained blows around Dain in a frenzy.
Dodging or blocking most, Dain retreated to the circle’s edge. Kag smiled.
“Nowhere to run now,” he said. He leaned in with a thrust and Dain parried it. Instead of retreating, Dain slid his weapon forward and rapped Kag’s knuckles. Blood started to drip from them.
Sensing an opening, Dain shifted to attacking, bringing his sword in from all directions, not moving quickly but instead almost dancing in a steady rhythm, something Thave had taught him. It saved energy while keeping pressure on his opponent.
Half his blows landed, and Kag retreated. Finally, Kag’s weapon flew from his hands with one well-placed blow, and Dain stopped.
“Had enough?” he taunted.
Kag’s face twisted into a sneer, and he balled his fists and bull-rushed forward. Dain sidestepped. He brought his sword over and slammed it into Kag’s forehead. It splintered and broke with the blow’s strength. Kag dropped. He fell silent, and no one spoke.
“By the Light,” Yvenne said, rushing to the fallen boy. Her hands began to glow a bright white before she’d even finished kneeling. She laid them on Kag’s head and he jerked. His eyes remained closed.
“He will wake in an hour or so and be just fine,” she said. She looked at Dain then. “And you? Do you need healing?”
“No. I am well,” Dain said, his breath rushing out of him and his knees feeling as if they would buckle at any moment. Now that the fight was finished, he realized how tense he’d been.
“Are you sure? That eye will blacken, but I don’t think it will swell shut.”
“I’m fine, Priestess. I’ll keep the eye.”
Yvenne gave him a flat look. “Stubborn.”
“Anyone else want to be squadleader?” Chaney asked. “Size and strength aren’t enough. They aren’t the most important things. You have to be smart. You have to know how to use your advantages and avoid those of your enemy. This is why we teach technique. It will make all the difference. It will save your life.”
Dain barely heard the words. He looked at the fallen Kag and then at his fellow squadmates. They stared at Kag as if he were a monster laid low. The big boy had threatened them; he’d bullied each of them at drills. And now he lay unconscious by Dain’s hand.
“Dismissed for dinner,” Chaney said. He reached out for Dain’s arm when he turned to leave. “That was risky. You could have killed him if you had struck him in the throat or if you’d cracked his skull open.”
A dangerous light shone in Chaney’s eyes, one matched by the look in Yvenne’s. The healer too knew how close it had been.
“I know,” Dain said.
CHAPTER TEN
The squad should have grown together after Kag’s defeat. Dain was sure that had been Chaney’s plan, and for a week or two it seemed to happen, but then they fractured and fell apart. There wasn’t a single incident that Dain could point to. In truth he didn’t even notice it until the damage was already done. Kag partnered up with Trysen and Dremble. They were insolent and mocked the other boys. Falion grew even more reclusive. He seemed to always be waiting for the right moment to escape now. Strale too withdrew into a shell, and Zek and Niles fell into Dain’s camp.
Over the next few months, they started training squad against squad, matching up and sparring, racing on foot, or fighting mock battles to capture the flag or achieve some other objective. Squad five lost all but a handful of engagements.
Kag’s group fought hard, but cost them the races with a slow jog. Dain’s group ran well, but other than Dain, lost more than their share of sword duels.
Chaney grew disgusted with them. He spent less and less time with them, retiring to his rooms often and leaving the training up to Dain. Yvenne refused to see him—it seemed she hadn’t approved of Chaney’s training methods. He stopped shaving and smelled of ale every morning, though the Light’s tenets strictly forbade it. He no longer cared about their practices or forms or techniques.
Two months after squaring off against Kag, Dain sat alone on the steps leading up to the barracks, watching the first few flakes of the year drift slowly down.
The marble beneath him was cold; it numbed him, but he was too distracted to really feel it. Grey clouds broiled overhead, dropping their snow as they rolled inland. From their direction, they’d be over Castle Gladstone by tomorrow. They would already have had several snowfalls at home. Nothing special about this one. Winter came early in the Highlands. He thought of his mother, of Tresten and Rylie and Thule, of Thave and Uncle Kilian, and then even of his father. He prayed the clouds would carry his well-wishes to his family.
Maybe I should follow them. He could be home by Yulen’s Day; the roads weren’t that bad yet. I could apologize to Father and everything will be well again.
But that would mean he’d failed. That would mean he wouldn’t be a Paladin.
He thought about the statue of Metston Gladstone, his ancestor, standing silent in the courtyard. What would that hard old man have done?
What would he think if I quit now?
Today was the seventh day, the day every Paladin and recruit attended the Creator’s service in the temple. The Sovereign, the holy leader of the Order, a solemn man in his older years, gave the sermon. Dain liked the service, but most of the other boys slept through it. He felt bad for the white-haired man. His sad eyes made it seem like he carried the weight of the world on his stooped shoulders.
After the service, recruits were given free time for the remainder of the day. Usually Dain spent a few hours riding Boon around the city. The rides gave him an excuse to avoid the barracks and he’d learned the city well, memorizing his way around most of the main streets and avenues.
Today, he hadn’t felt like riding and instead had returned after just an hour. Briefly he’d considered returning to the Red Roan and asking old Jes about his mother’s family; there was much he wanted to know, but there were more pressing concerns with his squadmates to address.
There had to be a way to fix things. A way to help Chaney. A way to bring everyone together and get them all working and preparing for the trial. However he tried to, Dain just couldn’t see it.
He was the squadleader. He had to do something. There had to be a way to pull the squad out of it, and if Chaney wouldn’t do it then it fell to him. As things stood, none of them would pass the trial at the end of the year.
Go to Yvenne? No, he didn’t want to cause more trouble than there already was between Chaney and the priestess. Lord Bental, Dain thought. If I can talk to Bental maybe I can get some advice from him. He did offer, after all. He might even be able to help with Chaney. We need him if we are to succeed.
He hadn’t seen Bental since that first day. Dain found that odd. Wasn’t he supposed to be teaching something?
He rose and entered the tower, heading toward the west wing where the full Paladins lived. At the wing’s entrance he found the clerk from his first day, Mern. The little man sat behind a small desk, going over a stack of documents and then filing them into different bins.
“Sir, could you tell me how to find Lord Bental? I’m not sure if you remember me, but I need to speak with him.”
Mern looked him up and down before responding.
“Dain Gladstone. Heir to Lord Harren Gladstone, house five, bunk three. Lord Bental brought you in on your first day,” Mern said. He tilted his head to one side. “I remember much. That is why I serve here.”
“Yes, you do. I would imagine it’s difficult to remember each boy,” Dain said. “But could you tell me how to find Lord Bental, please?”
“A trick of the mind, remembering.” Mern tapped his forehead. “I’m afraid you missed Lord Bental b
y a week. He’s off in the East.”
East? Nothing was east of the Empire except…
“The lands of the grey elves,” Dain whispered.
“Quite so,” Mern said with a nod. “Is there anything I might be able to do for you, young man?”
Dain hesitated. He remembered Kilian’s warning not to trust everyone in the Order. Still, he couldn’t do it all alone. He needed help.
“I’m worried about Sergeant Chaney,” he said. “He seems…ill a lot lately.”
“Ill? There’s no reason for him to be ill,” Mern said. “He knows to visit the infirmary if there’s anything wrong with him. Is that all?”
“Well, it’s his leg,” Dain lied. “I think it locks up on him more often in the cold. You know how prideful he is, he won’t talk about it.”
“Ahh,” Mern said. “Proud warriors all.” The clerk rose from his desk. He placed a smooth, apple-sized riverstone on his stack of papers to hold them down. “Follow me, then.”
Mern led Dain through the Paladin quarters and up into the western tower. Dain tried to concentrate on following the clerk and wondered where he could possibly be going, but found his eyes straying as they climbed. Portraits of famous Paladins and battles covered the walls. Half showed Palatine at various stages of his history. Trophies hung among the portraits, crude axes and black arrows from orcs or trolls, claws and horns and fangs from vanquished demons, curved swords and bone bows from the wild men to the south.
Most in the Order didn’t believe demons still walked the earth. They taught that demons only whispered in men’s minds, seeking to sway them into evil and away from the Creator’s Light. Surely there had been real demons at one time. The horns alone proved it. Dain wondered if it was like their disbelief in trolls. As Kilian had warned him, few here thought trolls were real.
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 15