The Last Swordsman

by Benjamin Corman

  The only other familiar face he saw was that of Argive, and then only once or twice. The old man seemed to materialize from the crowd here or there and disappear just as quickly. The brief snatches of him that Nikolis did manage to see only revealed him looking about the hall, studying the room and the gathered guests. Argive continued to be a mystery to Nikolis, and he resolved to ask someone about the man when he next had an opportunity.

  After much dancing, Vayne finally bowed to Karlene and said that he must take a rest. The lady, her auburn hair tied up in an intricate arrangement, her face flush from her efforts, was clearly as winded as the noble, but though she acquiesced to his declaration, she found her way back onto the dance floor. She took Malister Ollyn as a partner then, though it was apparent he had no say in the matter as she practically dragged him away from his position of rest on a nearby bench. Soon enough she was twirling about with him, as the young man began to smile and rise to the occasion, most likely enamored by the lady’s spirit and charm.

  Nikolis paid little mind when someone wandered near him, taking a seat at a bench against the wall. He remained standing, not far from the person, but his vigil on the lady and his watch of the room caused him not to concentrate much on who was near him. So, when he heard a clear, full voice state, “Quite a spirited lady is she not?” he was thrown entirely off-guard. He turned to see Vayne Dangard seated on that bench, his elbows up on the table behind him.

  When Nikolis did not say anything, the noble went on. “The Lady Karlene, I mean. She is spirited. And fair. Wouldn’t you say?” Nikolis only stared at him, confused. “Listen Nikolis, I know the two of you are friends. No need to be quiet or modest. She mentions you from time to time, as if she should not.”

  Friends? Is that all that they were? Yet, she has mentioned me…and to Vayne. “The lady is quite spirited…and fair,” said Nikolis in reply, trying his best not to let his words betray any of the emotions bottled inside him.

  “No need to remain so rigid,” said Vayne. “I understand how it is, for a young lady to befriend one below her station. But your secret is safe with me. It is well known that Tad is my own companion. He is nearly a brother. But these things are more easily accepted amongst men.”

  “I see,” said Nikolis, eyeing the other man with suspicion.

  Vayne sighed and shrunk visibly. “Listen Nikolis, I come to you only for advice. The Lady Karlene,” he smiled at this, “she is something.” Nikolis knew that look. He imagined it was on his own face quite often, when he spoke of her. It came from nothing but wonder and happiness. On Vayne’s face, however, it only made him sick.

  “What do you want?” asked Nikolis, hating the words even as he said them. What were Vayne’s intentions toward Karlene? At first, he had hoped that his actions only came of courtly manners, perhaps even mild flirtation. Is the son of the Regent of the North professing to actually have feelings for the Lady of Highkeep?

  “Just to know about her,” Vayne replied. “To know what she is like and what she likes. She hides much. We have shared jests, yes, and have spoken often of small matters, these past few weeks. More than that she has not shared.” This knowledge made Nikolis secretly happy. Perhaps she has not shared with the noble much of the feelings she had shared with him.

  He was trying to think of how best to respond, how to speak of her, without actually revealing anything. He wanted to say that she was also fun, and funny. With thoughts and feelings which have no equal. But he left it at, “She is kind. And gentle.”

  “Yes,” said Vayne. He looked annoyed. “That much could be said of half the women of the realm. Tell me of her. That which only a friend might know.”

  What is this man looking for? “I am not sure what you want.” Behind his back he was wringing his hands together so forcefully that they were beginning to ache.

  “Yes,” said Vayne, standing. He put a hand on Nikolis’ shoulder and nodded. “Most like not. Thank you, Nikolis. We’ll speak again, I’m sure.”

  After those words the noble departed, and took the dance back up with Karlene, who was just as flush and out of breath as before, and who had still not taken a rest. There was a smile on Vayne’s face, but it was, at least partially, forced. It was clear that his head was heavy with thought. Nikolis knew that feeling, and to see it present in the other man made him afraid, for it made the entire matter much too serious.

  As the evening wore on, the festivities began to die down. It became very dark in the hall, the only illumination from roaring fires in the several hearths set along the walls. Dancers began to slow from drink or fatigue, their movements labored and clumsy. Several remained merry despite their loss of energy, using their last reserves of strength to upend another mug of ale and, head back, down it in several generous gulps.

  The king had long since disappeared, escorted by his guards. The older nobles and dignitaries had retired not long after, leaving only the youth of the keep, and a few of the more exuberant of the middle aged, at dance and drink in the room. After a time Erad left too, after whispering something to Karlene, and then Tad Draver and Ellie were gone. Vayne had ceased dancing with Karlene some time ago, although she had found partners amongst men of all ages in the room. He too was gone after bidding her a polite good evening and it was then that she started to make her slow, but purposeful, way toward Nikolis.

  As she approached his throat began to tighten. He was sure she was not coming toward him but was moving toward another who was close by. He looked from side to side, searching out whom she may actually be going after. Then finally she was upon him, her hands together in front of her, fingers fidgeting, her face down, not meeting his gaze.

  “You never asked me dance,” she said to him, when he did not speak first.

  “I, uh – that wouldn’t be appropriate.” His face grew very hot, very quickly.

  “Oh,” she said. “I guess that is sensible.”

  Nikolis was confused as to what she did not understand. He was here on official duty, and even if he was not, it was not appropriate for one of his middling station to dance with a lady of high birth. “I would have liked to,” he said at last.

  “Would you have?” There seemed something odd in the grin on her face, something he had never seen before, that he couldn’t quite figure out.

  “Yes,” was all that he could reply. One corner of her mouth turned up in an odd quirk.

  “But you didn’t.” There was no query in those words; it was not a question – only a flat, simple statement of fact.

  Nikolis looked down now. He felt agitated, he felt awful, but he didn’t know why. None of their previous encounters had run this course. This was something different, something he did not like. “No,” he said, even though there seemed to be little expectation of an answer.

  The look on his face was grave now, and perhaps she had noticed this, for she touched his hand and said, “No matter. Do you remember the Hall of the Kingsmen?”

  “Yes.” How could he have forgotten? It was where they had gone the day they first met, at the prince’s behest. He had gotten in quite a bit of trouble that day, and though she and Erad were primarily behind the outing, they had not.

  She leaned up and in, close to him, her face so near his own, the heat of her breath at his neck. “Meet me there in an hour,” she whispered. Then she gave him another of those peculiar grins, turned, and left the room.

  Not long after she left, the feast came to an official end. Those who could walk departed to their chambers. Those who were too intoxicated to stand or move about on their own were escorted to their rooms by friends. A few who had managed to drink themselves into a state of total unconsciousness had to be carried out by guardsmen, each man supporting an end of the unlucky fellow. When it seemed that an hour must nearly have passed, with little else for him to do, Nikolis left the room.

  Outside the hallway was silent and chill. The night was cold. He made his way around corridors and up a set of stairs. It was not difficult for him to find his way a
round in the keep, even with only the scattered light of torches to illuminate the path. He came to the Hall of the Kingsmen without any trouble. The door was closed. It looked as locked and secure as it ever had been. As he approached it, a shiver went down his spine and he felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. I shouldn’t be here. Never again. I promised. His thoughts sought to bar his entry, but then he saw Karlene’s face, that peculiar grin, and he grasped the latch and the door swung inward.

  Inside, the room was dark. He closed the door behind him and looked about. Down at a far end of the hall was a small, orange glow. Slowly, he crept toward the light, having little idea what to expect. As he got nearer, things became more discernable. He could make out a small candle set in an iron holder on a table. It was just close enough to reveal furniture of all types, chests and upended tables, in the surrounding area. There was a chair not too far away, and he could just barely discern a figure shrouded in a dark cloak, seated upon it.

  Nikolis paused, baffled by the display. “Come closer,” he heard a voice say. It was unmistakably Karlene’s. He took a step nearer to the chair. “Come on,” she said. “Nothing to be afraid of.” With slow, cautious steps, he continued his advance.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” he asked.

  “Come now,” she said. “Come to me.” The words were in vain. He was nearly upon her. As he got closer, he saw hands reach out from the darkness. They motioned him inward. He stepped closer to the cloaked form. The hands rested upon his shoulder and drew him in, close, closer, near to the cowl of the dark garment. He strained to see, but the candle was not close enough, he could not make anything out.

  “Kiss me,” she said. It was Karlene’s voice, and yet it sounded nothing like her. The voice was strange, distant. He hesitated, but the hands on his shoulders pulled him inward. Nothing could be made out in the thick darkness, but his lips did finally meet something warm, and moist.

  Suddenly a torched flared to life, and then another, and another. Nikolis found himself looking into large, dark eyes. His confusion only continued when he realized that his lips were pressed to a snout that was quickly apparent as one belonging to a hog. The beast let out a squeal and twisted in the arms of Malister Ollyn, who was revealed when the beast’s squirming knocked his cloak ajar. Nikolis jumped back and the room erupted in laughter.

  Ollyn was laughing even as the hog jumped from his arms. Erad was roaring off to the side, a torch in the hand that wasn’t holding his stomach. Ellie was there also, giggling and wiping at her eyes. Tad was next to her holding another torch and chuckling just as hard. Lastly, and worst of all, stood Karlene directly behind Malister and the chair he had been seated in the entire time. Despite knowing that he had heard her voice, he had somehow hoped she wouldn’t be in the room. But she was there, as fair and beautiful as ever, and laughing hardest of all.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The stone was cold on his back, as he sat pressed up against a corner on the keep wall. The night air was cool and crisp, the sky dark. His mind was numb, as it had been for nearly a week now. Try as he might, he found it hard to absorb the words of his companion, pacing about the small balcony courtyard on the uppermost levels of the castle.

  “What should I do?” asked Vayne for the umpteenth time that night. “What should I say?” The words were spoken mostly to the air, as Nikolis had answered them as best as he could manage, countless times already. Vayne balled a fist and pressed it to his lips, clearly lost in thought. “What manner of fellow do you think she’d fancy?” he asked finally. It took a moment for Nikolis to realize that the noble had turned back and was now addressing him directly.

  “I don’t know,” Nikolis managed. This type of conversation interested him far less than it had even when first they met. Why does this man, especially now, delude himself into thinking I have the confidence of the Lady of Highkeep? Of course, Vayne hadn’t been there that night, the night he had had his guts spilled out on the floor of the Hall of the Kingsmen, to the merriment of the assembled sons and daughters of the realm’s most highborn lords and ladies. Nikolis surmised, though, there was little chance he didn’t know about it, given his relationship to those in attendance.

  “You never know,” said Vayne, with a sigh. He began his pacing anew, the finest of boots, dark and polished to a magnificent shine, sounding off the stone as he went. The noise broke through the air, the sharp clop reverberating off of the close keep walls in multitude, far more than it normally should have had any right to.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” Nikolis replied, without a hint of emotion. Vayne smiled then and sat down beside him.

  “I am sorry Nik, I meant no offense.” The tall man sat back against the wall, stretching his legs out. “If I did not have you to talk to about these matters, I’d surely go mad.”

  “Why don’t you ask someone else for advice? Your sister perhaps?”

  “Vanya only laughs and calls me silly, when I bring up such things. She is not like Karlene.”

  One thing was certain: Vayne was no Erad Ryland or Jon Casserly. Nikolis still doubted the sincerity of his, assuredly thin, extension of friendship, knowing too well if Vayne did not imagine he needed something from Nikolis, it may never have been offered at all. Though on the other hand, he hadn’t been there that night. He hadn’t been there. Nikolis knew but for that one fact, he wouldn’t even be able to abide being in the same room as the man. As it were, he changed directions any time he came near Erad or Tad, Ollyn or Ellie or…her. Just the sight of any of them made him nauseous.

  Nikolis almost thought to ask Vayne about the event, to see if the man might shed any light on what had happened. Somewhere in the back of his mind he still harbored the idea that it may have all been some sort of misunderstanding, that there was some other explanation for the events, other than that he was hated and despised by all those in attendance.

  Fool.

  He was of lowly birth, to be stepped on and ridiculed, no matter what position he now held within the keep. That is what they were about, that is why they did what they had – to make sure that he knew it. Nikolis had never imagined that any of them felt otherwise. That is, except for her. He thought she was different. He thought she had cared for him.

  Fool and fool again.

  A lady of Highkeep was meant only for one of as high birth as her own. Vayne was a perfect match, conveniently the proper age, and heir to the lordship of Terloch Towers and Regency of the South. Nikolis tried to imagine Karlene living in the frozen lands of the north. It was said Lady Dangard had never grown accustomed to the frigid temperature, though her daughter, being born and raised in those lands, was better suited to them. Still, Nikolis couldn’t help but think that if any lady not born to those hardships could suffer them, Karlene could. There was a strength in her, no doubt. Even despite what had come to pass, he still admired her. He still had feelings for her.

  Fool, fool, fool.

  Absently, Vayne drew his longsword from the sheath at his waist, and held the blade before him, studying it. The weapon was of quality make, with a sharp edge and a hilt of gold. “My father had this forged for me.”

  “It is a fine blade.”

  “The emeralds set in the hilt represent my father’s house, while the rubies, my mother’s ties to these lands. The first time my father handed it to me he said that the responsibility of all of the north may one day rest on my shoulders.”

  Nikolis shivered at those words. He already had his arms wrapped about his chest. “The night is cold.”

  Vayne stood again and grinned. “Not near as cold as it would be at the Towers. This is as summer in the north.” He sheathed his sword and then moved over to the edge of the courtyard, where a row of flat stones comprised a rail on the wall. He leaned his elbows on the stone and cupped his chin in his hands. “No, this is a land full of much wonder and beauty.”

  Nikolis imagined those words came less from the land and more from something else, but he wouldn’t dare to say s
o. Instead he only replied, “Yes, it is.”

  “If I could but remove my people to a land such as this, perhaps life would come easier to them.”

  “Is it so rough in the north?”

  “Aye, and more,” was Vayne’s reply. “I only hope our purpose here is fulfilled, and that the negotiations I have had with the King, and those that Malister works so hard at with the local merchants, come to an amicable outcome. We need the trade. We need the supplies.”

  Nikolis furrowed his brow. “I am sure that King Alginor cares for his subjects in the north, just as well as he does for his subjects here at Highkeep.”

  “The King,” said Vayne. “Yes, I would like to think he does. But, to those such duties have fallen to in absence of the King’s guidance…they drive a harder bargain, to say the least.” Vayne had to be referring to officials such as Master Filson, and perhaps even Erad. Would they really hold the needs of loyal subjects of the realm hostage for an extra penny or two for the royal coffers? Nikolis shuddered at the answer his darkening outlook led him to.

  A few days later Vayne was gone, departing with all his entourage. This time it was day, and the celebratory fanfare made up for that which was lacking on their late-night arrival of weeks before. Horns sounded at the castle towers, banners of red and gold, and green and black, waved back and forth through the air; the long tendrils of cloth looking almost as if they were crawling along the light winds.

  That was the end of late-night conversations with anyone of noble birth, and he made it his purpose to avoid everyone else, after that. If someone did not seek him out, he did not go looking for them. He was in regular attendance of the meetings of the King’s Shield and made his reports. His information for them was obtained by sources other than his own observation, instead relying on speaking with servants and the like about the movements of the Lady of Highkeep, her condition and whereabouts. It was interesting what some would tell him now that he wore the grey coat.