by Billy Wong
Why wouldn't I treat her with respect? Theo wanted to say, but figured that wouldn't do much for him either. He decided he would ask Gunther what he really thought about all this before pressing the matter.
After training with Dru the Forlorn, Gunther only instructing due to his arm, Theo asked his teacher, "Is it really all right with you, Father giving this Isolde your spot?"
Leaning wearing against a practice dummy, the swordmaster sighed. "The king has a better mind for these things than me. If he thinks this will be good for the country, who am I to dissent?"
"But it isn't fair. Just because you lost once doesn't mean you shouldn't be our champion. We don't know if Isolde would have beaten Claire, either."
Gunther patted his shoulder. "Theo, it's fine. Being champion isn't as important to me as you think. With maturity, one comes to realize there is a time when the old must step aside for the young. I suppose this is as good a time as any, while I'm not too old and haven't been subjected to multiple humiliating defeats or killed. As long as there is someone suitable to take on the role of champion... and Isolde is more than adequate, as you've seen. Besides, this way I'll be able to concentrate more on training the next generation and making sure Egrent stays well protected in years to come."
Theo was moved by Gunther's candidness, and hoped he could be such an admirable person at that age. "Your wisdom belies what many think of warriors. But do we know if we can trust her? She's just some newcomer who's strong and has a big sword or whatever it is, she has hardly proven herself like you."
"I feel she will be loyal."
"Is there any reason for thinking so?"
"It's just a feeling I and your father have."
It was a little vague, but he trusted Gunther enough to give it credence even if he didn't spell it out. Perhaps he and the king had questioned Isolde before accepting her, or knew more about her past than Theo did. Actually, it was almost certain. Gunther and Darius weren't stupid, nor were the latter's advisors. Even so, he would be curious to know more about the Breaker, but more would probably come out in the future.
They soon learned of warriors from Fian crossing the border into Egrent. No overt violence was reported yet, but it seemed clear they meant to unsettle those living on the fringe to express their displeasure at Egrent's actions. Some suspected Fian wanted to goad them into shedding blood first and make a retaliatory attack seem more justified. So far though, the discipline of their soldiers and citizens held up.
One day, Theo got a bit of a wild idea. Now that there was somebody around who might be better at fighting than Gunther, would it not help him if he could train with her? He didn't know that she would be open to it, but didn't imagine it would do much harm to try. He approached her while she left court for the night. "Lady Isolde, I was wondering, would you be interested in training with me?" She kept walking, not even seeming to notice him. "Excuse me, Lady Isolde? I wanted to ask-"
As if suddenly remembering something, she turned her head swiftly towards him. It was the biggest break in her statuelike demeanor he'd seen yet and she quickly tried to correct it. She gazed straight forward again, avoiding eye contact. "Lady? That hardly suits me. Call me the Breaker."
"Um, okay... well Breaker, would you like to help train me?" Rethinking it, "train with me" might seem to be overvaluing himself a bit.
"You want me to train you? I'm afraid I don't have much experience in teaching others."
"Even so, you're a very skilled warrior. I would be honored to have you as a sparring partner, and wager I could learn a lot just from that."
She finally stopped. "I have a rather unique style. Sparring with me might not teach you much that would be applicable against others."
"Facing a difficult opponent like yourself would surely aid me in honing my adaptability and reflexes." He gave her a questioning look, though she didn't show any acknowledgment she saw it. "Besides, aren't you proficient with any other weapons? With your level of ability, it's hard to believe you only know how to use that strange..."
"Sword. It has a hilt and blade and isn't dagger sized, so I'd hope a prince would be educated enough to recognize it as a sword."
Ouch, that spunk. He supposed he should have learned better than to assume her wit would be totally blunt just because she gave off a stoic image. She did seem young, probably in her twenties like him though the mask made it harder to tell, so the fire of youth was to be expected. "It's an unusual one you must admit. Probably made so only master warriors can use it, I assume?"
"Your flattery is admirable. Though I hope you're not trying to add me to your harem when you already have the earl's daughter and the First of Spears."
He recoiled. "Um, what? Harem?" It appeared even generally non-talkative, mysterious masked champions listened to gossip... "Anyway, about your knowledge of other weapons..?"
"I have passing knowledge of most common weapons," she admitted.
"The spear, then?"
He didn't catch if she rolled her eyes, but guessed from her tone that she did. "Oh, it's that is it? You seek to win the mighty she-warrior's heart by proving yourself worthy of her?"
"Is there something wrong with that?"
Isolde resumed walking away from him. "The ways of war are for defending yourself and what you hold dear, not games of childish pride."
Theo started to argue, "But if she's fine with it, then why-" Then he realized she had already put a good distance between them. He could have run after her and tried to convince her, but somehow sensed she wouldn't be swayed today. Merely by showing him her back, she had cut off conversation just like that.
She was a strange one, and probably rude by conventional standards, but for some reason Theo didn't mind it.
Chapter 6
They questioned the Duke of Jorest, but found that he did not know much other than that the dark elf sorcerer Manuiel had visited him and offered him an undead servant in exchange for trying to secede from Egrent. Over the next weeks, two more lords challenged the king's champion with death knights of their own. Isolde defeated them, and the disloyal nobles lost their positions along with their heads. No more came, yet tensions remained high as the spectre of war continued to loom.
One morning, Theo woke to find the castle in an uproar, everyone rushing this way and that with no care to tell him what was going on. Finally he met a chain-clad Damon in the hall, who broke the news to him of Ailune's invasion. "We're going to war!" the older prince said breathlessly, still trying to pull on a gauntlet. "A fleet landed on the southern coast carrying soldiers from Ailune, who are heading here as we speak. We go to meet them."
Theo stood there wide-eyed with shock, his brain far from prepared to take in this development. "How the hell did they arrive already before we even knew they were coming? Don't we have people watching them to warn us of things like this?"
Damon bit his lip. "They must have built the fleet in secret, and perhaps the dark elf used his magic to disguise their movement across the sea. It seems like their new fortresses could have been a ruse, or they just wanted to keep their border well defended in case of a counter attack. Anyway, hurry and grab your gear."
"How many are the enemy?" Theo asked while he ran back to his room for his sword and mail, Damon on his heels.
"The preliminary estimates have their strength at twenty thousand, or thereabouts."
Twenty thousand. It seemed like an enormous number, a greater hostile force than any that had entered Egrent in Theo's lifetime. "How many soldiers can we muster right now to face them?"
"Once we meet up with our allies on the way, around sixteen thousand."
"We'll be outnumbered... maybe we should stay behind the city walls and delay them until we can gather more help."
Damon finally finished adjusting his gauntlet and helped Theo don his armor. "You mean allow them to besiege us? We aren't that outnumbered that we need shirk open combat. Besides, Father makes those decisions, not us."
"Of course, but I mean, I thin
k it might be better to err on the side of caution. Even if the numbers difference isn't that large, they also have dark magic."
"All the more reason not to let them near the more vulnerable among us."
That was a good point. But he felt vulnerable too. For all his training and experience in duels for sport, he had never killed another human before. He hoped having seen his share of death would make him more prepared for it than some who hadn't, but couldn't be sure how he'd react to the horrors of war. He wouldn't ask to be excused from participating, though. A prince of Egrent couldn't cower at home while others fought for the kingdom, and by extension him. Besides, there were boys in the army less experienced in witnessing bloodshed than him who bravely faced the future. Afraid or not, he should at least be able to live up to their example. Claire probably wouldn't think too highly of him if he couldn't, either.
They gathered the main force of eight thousand and headed south, joining with two smaller armies brought by nobles of five and three thousand along the way. The larger was led by Sophie's father accompanied by Rob, who greeted Theo with a halfhearted smile. Theo rode at the head of the column with the king, Damon, Gunther and Isolde, growing ever more nervous as the battle drew closer and closer. The ranks of their allies seemed vast, stretching out endless behind them on the narrow roads, yet failed to reassure him. As imposing as the multitudinous spearheads and armored torsos off which sunlight glinted should have been, he knew the enemy was more numerous still. He doubted whether he was at all ready for this. The chaos of the battlefield would be much different from sparring or a one-on-one duel, and terrified him just to imagine it. A spear or arrow could come out of nowhere at any time, and his training might be useless if luck wasn't on his side.
Damon must have noticed he looked shaken, for he said, "Don't worry so much. No royal of Egrent has died in battle for thirty years."
"Egrent hasn't been at war for thirty years." Their uncle Albert had been the last prince to lose his life fighting for the kingdom. They'd never even known him, since it happened before they were born.
"Well, still. You have the great warriors Gunther and Isolde to defend you, and me of course."
Theo glanced at the former and current champions, riding respectively to the king's left and right. "Even they'll probably be busy looking out for themselves, and Father most of all. And you haven't been able to beat me with a sword for four years."
Damon took on an annoyed look. "Pure swordplay isn't all there is to war. I can still beat you at wrestling, and I'm more accustomed to watching my back in a brawl."
His big brother had used to get into more than his share of trouble before mellowing out. He might be part of where Theo got his rebellious streak from. "I suppose you probably have more 'mastery' of dirty tactics too. It was shocking when you suggested I try a trick to beat Claire. I highly doubt that would make a good impression even in success."
"Maybe she would admire your ability to think outside the box."
Claire might be down to earth enough to react that way, but Theo didn't want to risk it. "Aren't you scared, though? You may be more worldly than me, but you haven't fought in a war either."
"I'm a little scared," Damon admitted. "I'm sure most everyone is. But being overly afraid won't help us get through it and will only make our chances worse, so we're better off not dwelling on the fear and just focusing on doing the best we can."
Wise words, though following them might be easier said than done. Theo tried to stop contemplating the dangers in his future so much and instead think ahead to what he wanted to do after they passed. He pictured meeting Claire again, and telling her of how he'd defeated Manuiel and won the day for Egrent. Hmm, that was getting ahead of himself—a more realistic scenario would probably be him bearing witness to the dark elf's downfall.
After nerve-wracking days of marching, the great mass of Ailune's army came into view camped atop a large hill. They appeared not so different from Theo's allies from afar, just men clad in armor and bearing weapons after all. But on the average they seemed thicker and more robustly built than those of Egrent, a byproduct perhaps of surviving in the harsh north. From amid their ranks a slimmer figure stepped forth to look down over them. Now he, Theo had never seen the likes of before.
He stood perhaps over seven feet tall, but might have weighed no more than Isolde. Yet Theo didn't get any sense of weakness from him, his starkly upright posture alone making him seem solid as a rock. He wore dark armor so thin and tight, it didn't give the illusion of greater bulk at all, and the few exposed parts of his skin were pitch black so that it was nigh impossible to tell where metal ended and flesh began. His long, gaunt face looked animal-like in its sharpness, and Theo hadn't expected his pointed ears to be this big and horizontal, almost like fins on his head. The dark elf Manuiel. He couldn't help a shiver just at the alien strangeness of the creature.
"I knew you would come," he said in a deep voice easily heard from the tall hilltop. "You are a predictable lot, as humans tend to be." Theo wondered if that went over well with his own allies. "Now I will gladly accept your surrender."
"What nonsense are you babbling about?" Darius asked, drawing his broadsword with its ornate gem-laden hilt. He and his companions dismounted, as horses would have trouble negotiating the slope. "You hardly outnumber us, and far superior warriors stand among us than the crude rabble you've brought. What possesses you to think we would have come all this way to give in to you?"
"Has the dark magic that warped your appearance addled your mind too?" Damon shouted, his bravado likely an attempt to rally his own courage.
Manuiel looked bemusedly at them. "The force here outnumbers you not by much, and I am sure you did not come intending to surrender. But do you realize that as we speak, the other half of Ailune's army marches on your home city?"
"What, that's impossible!" Darius said. "You must be bluffing."
"Wait and see for yourself."
Almost on cue, a panting and red-faced messenger pushed his way through the crowd to King Darius' side. "E-excuse me Your Majesty, but there's a major problem. An army flying the bear-wolf flag of Ailune has been sighted heading from the north towards the capital. By now, it has probably reached there..."
"That cannot be! How could they have overrun our forts so quickly, and without them even being able to send out a warning?"
"We have not overrun your forts," Manuiel said in carefree manner. "You made the mistake of thinking the passes those forts guard were the only way into your land. But I have been preparing for this for more than a year, and had time to create enough potions that breathing and cold were not an issue for those of our troops who crossed the high mountains."
"They went... over the mountains?" The loss of composure his father showed made Theo clench his jaw anxiously. "But even if they were protected from the conditions there, to make the climb up and back down with war gear..."
"The folk of Ailune are strong and hardy. You ought to give credit if your people could not even consider it."
"They did not have your potions!"
Isolde spoke up. "I have crossed the mountains, without any potions or cheap tricks you call magic. It was easy, as long as I remembered to draw my coat tighter." Cheers went up among the soldiers of Egrent. "And I am but a woman, who should be weaker than a man. So if I could do it, all of you can if you put your heart into it!" Louder cheers, which made even the frightful Manuiel frown.
"Are you serious?" Theo whispered.
"It's meant to inspire you," she replied in an equally low voice. "I haven't even crossed the mountains." He liked her, he decided. A fighter that strong was rarely willing to humble themselves so, and go out of their way to do it.
"Regardless of any pretty speeches you have," Manuiel said, "you are in an unenviable spot. The meager force you left to protect your home will not stand for long. If you try to go and save them, you will be trapped between my two armies with scant hope of survival. But if you surrender now, at least your
lives will be spared."
"Would he really spare us?" Theo asked.
Gunther snorted. "We might be taken prisoner for now. It would be no surprise if we had an unfortunate 'accident' before long, though."
"What should we do?"
Darius answered him and Manuiel at once. "What if we smash you here and then go on to crush your allies?"
Manuiel eyed the fifty year old monarch like an impertinent child. "We have the numbers and the high ground. Even if you were somehow able to defeat us, you would have nothing left for another battle."
"Do you think we are so weak-minded as to let you tell us what we can and can't do?" Gunther shouted. "Where we come from, words mean nothing unless you prove them!"
"Some respect those who would rather die than bow their head." Manuiel drew his black sword, astoundingly long but thin. "I find it foolish. Come, then."
The Egrent army charged up the slope, Theo gripped by a surreal feeling as he wondered if this was really happening. The grass his feet pounded over seemed faraway, like in a dream. Arrows and spears rained down from above, and a scream to his right snapped him to full alertness. A man lay writhing with a pole jutting from his gut, who could have just as easily been him. He raised his neglected shield overhead just in time to feel a solid impact on it, probably an arrow that embedded in its front. More agonized cries rang out as others fell dying or wounded to the projectiles. They approached the enemy's front line, and Theo slowed as he beheld the thicket of bristling spears. Damon passed by him, slamming into two spearheads with his shield and hacking with his sword under it. He broke one spear and knocked the other aside, stepped into the gap and slashed the throat of a bearded man in breastplate and helm.
Not wanting to let his brother face danger alone, Theo followed him into the fray as the warrior whose spear he'd broken drew a dull-looking sword. Theo sought to engage him, but was forced to stop and block another foe's spear while Damon parried the dull blade. He pushed the spear out of the way and cut at its wielder's face. The man leaned back. The blade missed his head and chest, but continuing down ripped into his abdomen and he gasped. Seeing him stricken with pain, Theo hesitated for a half second, then gutted him with a low slice. A powerful chill ran through him, but he managed to push it aside knowing that if he faltered here he too would die. He caught a descending axe on the top rim of his shield, thrust through its owner's ribs. The man dropped his weapon, but to his surprise pulled himself forward on the blade while reaching for Theo's eyes. His training hadn't prepared him for this. He tried to back up, but walked into somebody behind him-