“What is it dear?” Jelénna asked, absentmindedly running the fingers of her right hand through her long auburn hair.
“I was just thinking how much I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Aldrick smiled again. It seemed he was always smiling when he was with her. He glanced back at his son Adrias, following behind on a handsome colt of his own. He was happy that having a family had changed his life for the best. He had been quite concerned about the prospect of having a family when he was younger, yet now he could not imagine life without them.
“How are you doing son?”
“Fine, father.” Adrias replied, distracted by swatting at a large fly buzzing about his head.
Aldrick gave his son a proud nod, then turned back in the saddle and scanned the road ahead. He had learned long ago it was wise to be cautious when traveling, even here on the road to Akkadia, the capital city of Asturia.
“Do you realize it’s been almost fifteen Summers since we first met?” Jelénna asked in her musical voice.
Aldrick glanced at his beautiful wife. “Has it been that long?”
Jelénna had that look of exasperation she often did when he was distracted, generally when he was buried in a book and only half listening.
“Yes dear. After all, Adrias will soon be ten Summers old, the same age you were when Hermanus became king of Asturia. Why is it that you can remember names of people who lived hundreds of Summers ago, but you cannot remember how long it’s been since we met?”
Aldrick managed to look embarrassed. “I take after my father, as you well know. He can recall hundreds of laws and historical precedents, along with numerous rules and regulations that help him advise the king. I’m certain King Hermanus could never have managed his court without my father, yet he can’t saddle his own horse or boil an egg. So in truth, you have him to blame.”
Jelénna chuckled. “He is brilliant, but yes; he can be rather helpless. At least you have a little more common sense than he does.”
“I married you, didn’t I?” Aldrick shared another of those special smiles with his beloved wife.
The mention of his father Tiberius brought his thoughts back to their current trip to Akkadia for the upcoming Tournament of the King. With King Hermanus now dead and his son Brodan acting as regent, a new Tournament had been called in order to choose a new king. The last Tournament of the King had been less than twenty Summers ago, after the previous king had died of old age. At that time, Hermanus had been victorious in the Tournament, to become the new king.
The country of Asturia chose their monarch by Tournament, with a series of contests testing both physical, as well as mental prowess. Although the Tournament system of Asturia had had its detractors in the past, Aldrick truly believed it was superior to the ancient system of hereditary kingship.
By passing the grueling tests, a candidate clearly proved to the kingdom that he was qualified to be a good leader, rather than simply being the fortunate offspring of the king. In his opinion, countries like Illyria that chose their new king by heredity, rather than the proven method of Tournament were robbing themselves of a great many potential candidates.
It was rather unusual to have another Tournament of the King after only twenty Summers however, especially since King Hermanus had not been very old when he died. These were peaceful times, and the king certainly had access to the best physicians in the land, yet even they could not protect him from that most onerous of enemies, the ravages of disease.
Just as the majority of men who competed in the Tournament, Hermanus had been a young and vibrant warrior, both strong and intelligent. At the time of his untimely death, Hermanus had still been healthy and physically fit for his age of fifty Summers, with access to healthy food, and any herbs or potions he required.
Yet when the king had become unexpectedly ill last winter, even the best physicians had not been able to determine what horrific and withering disease he had contracted, much less how to combat it. The kingdom was shocked by the news that after a quick decline, King Hermanus lay dead. The peaceful reign of a wise and just ruler had abruptly come to an end.
Adrias was now the same age Aldrick had been during the last Tournament. His memories of that time were fuzzy now, mostly flashes of events that stood out in his mind. Most of the details seemed forever lost in the mists of time. Hopefully, he thought, Adrias would someday be able to look back on the many good memories he would make during this upcoming Tournament.
Aldrick closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his son might look like twenty Summers from now. Abruptly, the picture he had of Adrias in his mind warped into the image of three young boys standing in the middle of a road.
Strangely, the road appeared much like the one on which they now traveled. Aldrick sensed that the three boys, although they looked young, were somehow more experienced than they appeared. The image was hazy, as were most of the prophetic daydreams Aldrick had been experiencing over most of his adult life.
He could not explain why at these rare moments he was able to see flashes and images that seemed to have a deeper meaning. Inexplicably, much of what he saw would later come to pass. He had learned to pay attention to these flashes, yet as was often the case, he currently had no idea what the images meant.
“Are you paying attention?”
Aldrick opened his eyes. “Sorry love, what did you say?”
Jelénna sighed and pointed up the road. “I asked if you saw those children standing in the middle of the road?”
They were riding into an area where the trees along the edge of the road grew closer together, and the boughs and branches intertwined overhead to cast heavy shadows across the road. Aldrick peered through the creeping gloom towards where his wife was pointing.
Three boys stood swathed in shadow, spread out in a line barring their path. Surprisingly, the boys were wearing armor and brandishing swords; weapons which appeared much too large for their small physiques.
While difficult to determine in the deepening shadow, it appeared to Aldrick the boys stood behind a shimmering haze. A screen of iridescence radiated in front of them, swirling about. Their size and shape would warp and stretch when Aldrick turned his head. The entire effect alternated between hovering at the edge of sight and near invisibility.
Aldrick and his family brought their horses to a halt as one. Keeping an eye on the boys blocking the road, Aldrick leaned towards his wife and said in a hushed tone, “Tell me what you see.”
Jelénna looked at her husband. “What do you mean what do I see? I see three unsupervised children playing at war with weapons too large and dangerous for them to have. Barring that, they should certainly not be in the middle of the road blocking the way of honest travelers.”
“What about that shimmering haze around them?”
Jelénna squinted through the shifting patches of shadow. Slowly shaking her head she replied, “What haze? I just see the three boys.”
Aldrick grimaced, and handed the reins of his horse to his wife. He swung one leg over the saddle and hopped down. Catching her gaze, he gave her a heartening smile. “Stay here. I’ll see what this is all about.”
Glancing back at the trio, Aldrick could not shake an overwhelming sense of dread. While his wife might be correct that these boys had somehow found armor and weapons and only be playing at war, he could not get his vision out of his head.
He quickly checked the two swords he wore strapped to his back, confirming they were clear in their scabbards. Releasing the handles, Aldrick started forward to confront the three.
At his approach, the boy in the middle stepped forward, hefting a large two-handed sword. There was such a discrepancy between the size of the great sword and the diminutive stature of the child that Aldrick might have laughed at the sight under different circumstances. The incongruity of what he was seeing, coupled with his earlier daydream reminded him to remain vigilant.
“Can I help you boys?” Aldrick asked, trying to sound cas
ual. He became more suspicious as the one in the middle stepped forward. None of them spoke, but in the shifting shadows he was certain he saw the ghost of a smile on the face of the leader.
He was contemplating whether or not to draw his swords against a child, when the leader flashed a quick, almost unseen hand signal to his comrades. This unspoken communication and the seriousness of his approach was enough for Aldrick. In a flash, he unsheathed his twin swords and stood poised in readiness.
“What are you doing Aldrick?” Jelénna called out. “By the All Father, stop messing about!”
He heard Adrias let out an audible gasp. Aldrick ignored them both, and changed his stance in preparation for an attack. The beautiful spring day and the cumulous clouds floating gently overhead in a light breeze likewise faded into the background. The only thing he focused on was the enemy before him; for when he had turned to scan the edges of the road, his peripheral vision had cut through the shimmering veil to see the true nature of the three through the haze of illusion.
Innocently traveling to the Tournament of the King on a beautiful spring day, Aldrick and his family had been waylaid not by three young boys playing at war, but by three battle-ready warriors.
Chapter 2
When the leader of the three boys raised his sword and grinned, Aldrick spared one precious moment to yell back at his family. “Run!”
“Run?”
Aldrick could not spare another moment to inform his wife of his discovery. These men, likely professional killers, would not bother with the elaborate charade of disguising themselves as children for any reason that was not deadly serious.
He could not begin to guess how they had accomplished their illusion, since it was commonly believed that true magic had died out hundreds of Summers earlier. Yet however they had managed it, the disguise had been effective.
Now that he had seen through the illusion, the shimmering haze of their disguise dissipated and faded away, leaving the three men exposed for what they were. Geared in light armor for quick missions rather than fighting extended and bloody battles, the warriors appeared ready to travel lightly and quickly.
The leader was large and muscular, and unlike the smaller weapons of his companions, he carried a large two-handed sword that Aldrick thought was of Illyrian design. All three men faced him with confident, smug expressions. They held their weapons in an expert manner, unlike the average conscripted soldier who often was in the army for no reason other than to collect regular pay.
Without further warning or preamble, the leader tensed and sprang at Aldrick, taking a mighty swing. The relatively slow and lazy swing of the two-handed broadsword showed a complete disregard for any skill that Aldrick might possess. He could not help but wonder as he ducked, if his attacker was testing him, or merely toying with him for his own amusement.
As the man swung again, Aldrick decided to end the skirmish quickly before it involved his family, and crossed his swords to catch the blade of the massive sword. A resounding clang rang out as the blades met, and sparks flew.
Pushing the enemy sword back, Aldrick spun quickly and ducked under a powerful return swing. Before the man could react, Aldrick plunged both his swords straight into his midsection, running him through. The soldier gazed down in complete surprise to see both swords thrust deep into his middle.
Aldrick wrenched his blades out with a grimace as Jelénna cried out. The man fell awkwardly to his knees, dropping his sword and grabbing his middle in a vain attempt to keep his innards from spilling out. His eyes glazed over, and the mortally wounded man fell forward onto the road, dead.
The large warrior had not spoken a single word the entire fight, nor had he cried out at the end. Aldrick learned why as the man fell forward; his mouth was open in surprise but he could not cry out, for he had no tongue.
Aldrick was stunned at the implications; three trained warriors, possibly assassins, with weapons of Illyrian design and the leader at least without a tongue. Could it be that these men were in truth one of the infamous Illyrian Triads?
Historically, an Illyrian Triad was a group of three elite-level assassins used by the Illyrian government during the rule of the despot Sargon the Destroyer, in situations where the regular army would not suffice. Initiates had been required to cut out their tongues to prove their courage and worth, which also conveniently ensured their silence in case of capture.
Aldrick had not heard of Triads being employed since the time of Sargon and the Great War some five hundred Summers before. Lost to history, most people would never have even heard of them.
Aldrick only knew of the Triads because of his love of books and fascination with history, which he had inherited from his father. His wife often pestered him to put down one of his beloved books and pay more attention to her. To be fair, he sometimes acquiesced to her request, much to her amusement.
It did seem ironic, he thought, that he was one of a very select group still alive who might know of the Triads, and yet for all he knew he might be the first since the Great War to be killed by one.
Ignoring another outcry from his wife, Aldrick glanced to the two remaining men. He quickly spun his swords in a wide arc, spraying blood off in all directions. Whipping the blades forward, he prepared to fight the last two members of the Triad, if that was in truth what they were.
Their expressions said quite clearly they had been ill prepared for his level of battle expertise. Aldrick wondered if unlike the Illyrian Triads of old, these men were used to being sent after unprepared victims, and soft nobles who did not put up a fight. Clearly, unlike the Illyrian Triads of history, these men had not been fully prepared for their victim to have fangs.
The two remaining men recovered quickly and brandishing their own swords, prepared to attack. Aldrick knew he no longer had the element of surprise; these two now knew he would be no easy victim, and were prepared for a real fight.
The two assassins stepped apart from each other, spreading out to flank him. An obvious, but classic move, but Aldrick knew it would make the fight that much more difficult.
He positioned himself between the two fighters. Moving into a battle stance that would help him balance between opponents on both sides, Aldrick kept his focus on the attacker approaching his right, while training his other senses on the man to his left.
Aldrick was inherently a peaceful man, but growing up in the palace in Akkadia, followed by his career working with the army as an investigator, he had spent time training to fight. He pursued the sport to stay fit and clear his mind, not out of any desire to fight. Yet he was naturally athletic and had become fairly proficient with his swords. He often won mock fights against multiple opponents by sensing their positions and foreseeing their intentions.
Although he had not discussed it with anyone, Aldrick knew he was capable of such feats because of his occasional flashes of insight. These images came to him in times of need, most often as impressions, but sometimes as dreams. In the midst of battle they helped him anticipate how his opponents would react, and how they would move.
He felt his years of training in fighting techniques was mostly responsible for his talent in handling swords, but his extraordinary skill in sensing his opponents and predicting their moves often baffled his teachers. He dismissed claims that his fighting abilities were almost magical in nature, since he, as most people, believed that true magic no longer existed.
Magic, after all, now only lived in books; in the tales of the ancient past and the days of the Great War when Sargon the Destroyer systematically hunted down and killed every Mage he could find until none remained to oppose him. After Sargon’s defeat, there was little magic left in the land, and over the Summers it had simply been forgotten.
Personally, Aldrick suspected many of the ancient tales of magic were metaphorical or had been greatly embellished, if they were not complete fabrications altogether. As a rule, he found it difficult to believe in anything he could not see and touch.
His attention was wrenched
back to the present as the assassin on his right feinted towards him, while the other came in full swing behind him. Blocking the first blow on the left, Aldrick used his momentum to thrust his other sword at the man on his right. That move was parried, and Aldrick spun and swung towards the left, while whirling his right hand back at the other assailant.
Both swings were blocked, but both men were pushed back enough to give Aldrick room to maneuver more freely. Taking advantage of the brief respite, Aldrick blocked one attack with both blades, while kicking the other man in the chest. Thrusting again at the first, he deftly dodged a sweeping blow from the second man.
The dance continued in a blur of motion, metal colliding in clashes of steel, and showers of sparks. Thrust met with parry, parry was followed by riposte, riposte led to strike.
Sweating now, Aldrick lunged through the would-be killers scoring multiple hits, while blocking their incoming attacks to preserve most of his own fortitude. So far, his strikes had caused only light wounds, yet he was clearly wearing his opponents down.
The Key of Creation: Book 01 - Rise of the Destroyer Page 2