Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  Nightslayer hadn’t spoken for hours, but now the Sword was clear, ~~Listen to this man, Bladeborn! He has your best interest in his heart!~~

  “What do you suggest then, Brother?” Bladeborn questioned. “I am rather on my own.”

  “Bladeborn, you have access to forty men-at-arms—part of the Dreadsta legacy—as a Knight, it was Sir Dreadsta’s commission, and now they fall under your command. These men await orders in the lower barracks. I am certain that Lady Dreadsta wasn’t allowed to take them with her when they left for the Second Realm. I have also come into possession of letters from Sir Rodon Thell, the Knight who first brought you here over a year ago. He asks the Queen for assistance: troops and leaders, to raid Rhinolon supply chains with.”

  Bladeborn considered this revelation for only a moment before saying, “I could link up with Sir Rodon Thell, the Knight in the field—with these men at my side! We would make a significant force!”

  Brother Kregert said, “Now, you are thinking like a soldier!”

  They sat for another moment considering the fire. Bladeborn was thinking of the future—a possible path to get what he wanted.

  Bladeborn, staring in the fire, finally said, “Thank you for coming to visit Brother Kregert. Before your visit, I thought that everyone here in the First Realm so disliked me that I would have to begin casting the cleansing rituals again.”

  “What is this ‘cleansing ritual’ of which you speak?”

  “I once had many enemies in Fortress City. They cast spells on me to make me feel ill. I have no need of the cleansing ritual anymore, for I think that my natural Essence protects me from the effects of Wizards and Shaman. Or, perhaps my contact with Nightslayer protects me.”

  “The men here might fear the new and unknown. You represent that to them, Bladeborn. But they are simple men, some with the bad in them, but most of them truly good in their hearts. No one here wishes to see you harmed.”

  “After last night, I am not so certain,” Bladeborn said.

  “Sir Dreadsta’s action shocked everyone. I cannot understand it, and I know the hearts of men. No one has been so brazen for decades, especially among the Nobility. As I said, most men are good in their hearts.”

  “How am I to reach their hearts?” Bladeborn asked. “I want to keep my promise to the Queen and lift the curse of infertility from the Realms. But I will need ALL the others to join me if I am to do so!”

  “You need to go one step at a time…. Take your soldiers into the field and show them what you can do. Join with Sir Rodon Thell. I hear he is respectable and fair-minded. I know he has no love for Sir Esket.”

  “Esket,” Bladeborn said, with raw emotions showing. “I worry that he is the one who now has the Queen’s favor.”

  “It is not true,” Brother Kregert claimed. “They argue bitterly. It is my assessment that Deocarla will accept you into the palace again someday. Now, why don’t you to the larder and get a portion of that food you mentioned earlier… I am famished…”

  The following day Bladeborn reviewed his troops. They bunked and practiced in a large stone room near where he lived. The sergeant called them to attention when Bladeborn showed up. He asked them a few questions, and told them to carry on, and then left their quarters to see the Queen.

  For three days, Bladeborn went to the entrance to the palace wing but was rebuffed. He was crestfallen, but hopeful—the Heartring he wore still glowed warmly, so he knew that the Deocarla yet had some regard for him.

  He decided the time to see her might be too soon after the controversial death of Sir Dreadsta, and that was why he was not permitted to see her. Meanwhile, Brother Kregert had Bladeborn reading a book on military ethics from the Queen’s Library, which they discussed at length. Bladeborn also trained with his troops and familiarized himself with some of their names.

  “She still doesn’t want to see you,” the houseman said. His only choice was to change his strategy.

  On the morning of the fourth day, Bladeborn told his forty men, “Pack up! We march into the field today! It’s a fine spring day, and we have a long way to go! We are going to join with Sir Rodon Thell in the southern hills! Our first trip is to the Dreadsta larder to get enough food for an extended stay in the field!”

  There were groans and growls from the men, but Bladeborn boldly said, “GET MOVING! And NO whining! I want to see your best side. Show me what you can do! Are you fighting men or slackers?”

  The sergeant said sarcastically, “You heard him, men! We’re going ‘into the field’ today!”

  Bladeborn didn’t like the sergeant’s tone, but there were few ways to improve morale at that point.

  The Knights of the Valleys had seldom fought anything more than defensive skirmishes with the Rhinolon. When they contended with the Rhinolon it was usually for a feint, to draw a single Rhinolon unit away from one of the hidden orchards of the Valleys. During these maneuvers, the warriors of the Realms often suffered many casualties. Bladeborn believed a different plan was a better choice.

  After leaving the underground halls of the First Valley and marching some time, Bladeborn conversed with Nightslayer about the men he led. No one from his unit spoke to Bladeborn unless they had to.

  “These men who I command are almost more difficult than the Drommu, Nightslayer!”

  ~~They know you can fight, Bladeborn, and they know some of your skills. Allow them time to adjust to your plan. If you and your men can make enough of a reputation for yourselves as warriors, the Realms under the Spiral Mountains will unite~~

  “The people of the Six Valleys would never agree to such a thing, Nightslayer,” Bladeborn countered. “I can’t even get these forty men to trust me.”

  ~~They will learn to trust, Bladeborn. Put them in a fight and they will act out of a sense of self-preservation. But in time, your strength will show them the way~~

  “If this can be done, I’ll return to Queen Deocarla as her champion, and be King,” Bladeborn imagined. “She promised me a position by her side.”

  It was a dream, a direction to guide him. Bladeborn still wore the Heartring Deocarla had given him. If the magic in it was functioning properly, she still wore hers also.

  Bladeborn knew each of his battles had to be overwhelming victories. His forty men, most of whom were survivors of earlier skirmishes, would have to know his strength from the very beginning, so they would be ready to follow him into the Hells, if necessary. In addition, he had sworn to the woman he loved that he would save the Six Realms. He was sure he would succeed, for Nightslayer would be in his hand— constantly goading him.

  Bladeborn was going to give the Rhinolon more than an annoyance—he fully intended to raise a significant army. The magic that hid the realms would be an essential part of this plan. Between battles they would hide and recover, and then strike again.

  Chapter 17: War with the Rhinolon

  Bladeborn and the forty men marched out of the shadows of the mountains, and camped together under the stars. By the time they reached the foothills, he concluded morale within the unit was improving.

  A few days later, Bladeborn linked up with Sir Rodon Thell. Bladeborn had heard that Sir Rodon once presented a plan to strike at the Rhinolon which the Kings of the Six Realms rejected.

  The men that Sir Rodon led were all small of stature. They would be good at hit and run, but not in a stand-up fight.

  Yet Sir Rodon was tall and strong. The breastplate he wore was darkly iridescent, partially made of the hide of a Pit Dragon, but also overlaid with the strongest and lightest of metals—adamantium. He had a rapier and shield, and he was especially skilled as an archer. He greeted Bladeborn like an old friend.

  “So, you are finally here, where you should be! Good!” Sir Rodon exclaimed as Bladeborn entered his camp.

  “What do you mean by that?” Bladeborn asked the tall Knight, who was just a few years older than he.

  “I have been waiting for you,” Rodon declared. “It seems you have been given the com
mand of a unit of footmen. A runner of mine, Sera Ayaba, often brings me word of the First Realm. May I ask what your intention is?”

  “I am responding to your call for aid in the fight against the Rhinolon. An aged priest of Saint Morth by the name of Brother Kregert received one of your letters. To attack the Rhinolon and eventually lift the curse of infertility on the Kingdom is my goal,” Bladeborn said honestly.

  “A noble desire,” Sir Rodon stated. Bladeborn knew he sounded boastful, but there was no other way to put it.

  Sir Rodon seemed happy with Bladeborn’s words. “I am glad to have you in country, good Bladeborn! BAH! Courtly life is foul to me, and no place for true warriors, such as we are. I know you very well, Bladeborn. I had heard from the Drommu and the Rhinolon stragglers of ‘the accursed one’ long before I found you and brought you before Queen Deocarla. And now, many thousands of Rhinolon fruitlessly scour the deserts of the Blasted Plain looking for... you!”

  “Is that true?” Bladeborn asked.

  Rodon said, “Yes, I have watched them advancing in droves through the Raider Marches and parts North. It cannot be denied.”

  After briefly considering this, Bladeborn said, “I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life.”

  Sir Rodon bowed, smiling, “Speak no more of it. I am sure you will have to do the same for me some day. Come! We will paint these hills red with the blood of the Rhinolon! I am certain!”

  They walked together and talked about possible strategy, taking a measure of each other. Sir Rodon and Bladeborn seemed to be friends from the first.

  Bladeborn said, “The Queen’s report claimed that your scouts have seen lightly defended caravans on the roads between the Rhinolon Northern provincial capital, Onager, and their Shaman’s tower, the Zelgron.”

  “By thunder! It seems someone has read my reports,” Sir Rodon exclaimed. “I believe we could begin our attacks on one of these caravans.” Rodon looked at Bladeborn more closely for a moment, as if trying to scrutinize his nature.

  “What is it, Sir Rodon?” Bladeborn asked him.

  “You and the Queen are in love, is this not true?” Rodon asked.

  Surprised at the Knight’s question, Bladeborn responded “It is for the love of the Queen that I fight. I swore to her that I would do everything in my power to lift the curse of infertility from the Realms. I wear this, a Heartring, as a symbol of our affection. And she told me that if I can lift the curse she will marry me and make me King.”

  Sir Rodon declared, smiling, “Fighting for Queen and Kingdom! Very good!”

  “Do you mock me?” Bladeborn asked.

  “No, Bladeborn,” Sir Rodon said, seriously. “But the curse of infertility is likely an insurmountable magical attack... Many of my men have resolved that since they are unable to start families, they would take as many of the Rhinolon brutes with them as they could.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Bladeborn said.

  “They fight, knowing our cause is lost, for the simple pleasure of revenge.”

  “We must turn them around, and give them hope…A cause other than revenge,” Bladeborn said. “Let them know that I have the intention of lifting the curse, and that I shall not rest until it is done.”

  “Bladeborn, what you are suggesting is all well and good,” Sir Rodon cleared his throat uncomfortably, “But you have not experienced that sadness of this curse. For nearly ten years, no child has been born anywhere in the Realms. It may be the end of our thousand-year-old line. You claim lifting it is your goal. You must realize how impossible it sounds.”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of—yet,” Bladeborn stated confidently.

  Rodon, an experienced Knight of the First Realm, said “Either that, or I am speaking with a madman!”

  Nightslayer said to Bladeborn, ~~You shall one day lead an army against the Rhinolon, Swordsman. This Knight will soon find out how capable you are~~

  Bladeborn and Rodon planned their strategy all the rest of the day. That night, they began to march southward, out of the Spiral Mountains, to the trade road between the Shaman tower and Onager, the massive Rhinolon river-city.

  Rodon’s main warriors were joined by some of the other, younger, scouts of the Realms. A few of the men who joined them were simple rogues who had bad reputations within the Six Realms. Sir Rodon knew most of these men all too well, and he was unsure of their steadiness in combat. Bladeborn was also introduced to Sera Ayaba at this time. They spoke briefly, Rodon mentioning that Sera was a great warrior, along with being a procurer of supplies for the scouts. Before the first fight, Sera would have to return to the First Realm for the men’s food. After Sera was sent on his way, Sir Rodon became more focused on the coming battle.

  The men of Sir Rodon were all ready to bring war to the Rhinolon. Some had long awaited the chance to prove themselves in a hit-and-run strike while others were filled with fear.

  Not one Knight had joined their cause. Another runner, after bringing a week’s provisions via pack-beasts, said that the older, more cautious Knights in the First Realm agreed that Bladeborn, Rodon, and those with them were on their way to “certain death…”

  They marched for days, setting up one “practice run when they neared the Rhinolon road.

  Rodon commented, “Your men seem unsure and unmotivated, Bladeborn. I hope they realize what the penalty for disobedience can be…”

  “What can it be, Sir Rodon?”

  “If they were to fail to carry out their duties, it is conceivable that they could be flogged and banished from the service of the First Realm. Disloyalty amongst the soldiers is not to be tolerated. Perhaps you should speak to the sergeant and remind him before tomorrow?”

  “I thank you for the suggestion, But I won’t threaten my men, Sir Rodon,” Bladeborn responded.

  “Well, their moral seems low to me, honestly,” Sir Rodon asserted.

  “I must lead them by example, Sir Rodon,” Bladeborn replied. Sir Rodon let the subject drop.

  The next morning, they arrived at the Rhinolon trade route, they set their trap in the trees and brush, planning to ambush a caravan that was always there at that time of the week. When the convoy arrived, it was more than they had expected. They faced thirty Rhinolon soldiers and mercenaries and ten Rhinolon traders driving pack-beasts that pulled wagons.

  As they drew near, the Rhinolon appeared sleepy and tired. They would be taken completely unaware.

  Bladeborn and Sir Rodon exchanged glances and Rodon gave the nod. They charged out of the bush toward the caravan, weapons drawn, at the lead of Bladeborn’s men.

  “FOR QUEEN DEOCARLA! LET NONE SURVIVE!” Bladeborn called to his force.

  “FOR THE FIRST REALM! ATTACK NOW!” Sir Rodon shouted. Out of the brush, Bladeborn and Sir Rodon dashed toward the two largest Rhinolon, after Sir Rodon’s men had let fly with the first volley of arrows from their short bows.

  Bladeborn’s forty men, camouflaged nearby in heavy armor, were supposed to join in the assault using spears and swords.

  “We HOLD!” Bladeborn’s Sergeant said. “Attacking that caravan is suicide! I won’t order the men to advance!”

  “WHAT?” Rodon’s Sergeant screamed at Bladeborn’s heavy footmen. “Strike now or all is lost!”

  “Retreat, men!” Bladeborn’s Sergeant called out. “Now for it! We head BACK to the First Realm!”

  Unaware that his footmen were retreating, Bladeborn was now close enough to use his Essence-based psychic power. It killed several Rhinolon guards outright. The psychic attack’s strength was far greater than it had ever been. When he was closer still, he slashed two more Rhinolon Guards quickly with Nightslayer, and they fell. Two more Rhinolon, wounded by the arrows of the archer-scouts, were finished by Sir Rodon’s well-placed stabs. Thell’s rapier seemed to seek out the vital organs of those who faced him—and the Rhinolon died before they could swing at him.

  Some of the Rhinolon drew their mauls, while others pulled bows. They laughed in thei
r grunting, squealing way. Only two warriors, Bladeborn and Rodon, were attacking, other than the archers, which did light damage.

  Bladeborn blocked several Rhinolon arrows with swift action of his small steel shield while dodging swings of Rhinolon mauls. In response to the two nearest, Bladeborn slashed open huge areas of their stomachs with wide arcs of Nightslayer. The Rhinolon caravan leader, branching a war-axe, seemed to realize there was real danger.

  The Rhinolon leader began shouting commands, and Sir Rodon jumped to attack the huge creature to silence it. The Rhinolon leader briefly crossed weapons with Sir Rodon, but the Knight of the First Realm’s rapier pierced the belly of the brute. Rodon had been saved from a half-dozen arrows by his armor, but the Rhinolon leader hit Rodon with a strong dying blow of its war-axe.

  “UFF!” Sir Rodon said, landing on his back. “Where are those heavy footmen?”

  Two Rhinolon, bellowing loudly, closed in on Rodon’s prone form. For a moment, it looked like the Rhinolon would kill Rodon before he could get back on his feet. However, Bladeborn was there in time, slashing the unarmored legs of one Rhinolon and burying Nightslayer in the back of the other.

  Bladeborn yelled, “I don’t know where my men are, but we are in too deep get out and run! Get up and fight on!”

  In a back-and-forth motion with Nightslayer, Bladeborn killed two more Rhinolon who had closed in on them.

  The bravest of Sir Rodon’s light footmen now charged into the fray with javelins and short bows, more effective at close range. Rodon’s sergeant shouted, “The heavy footmen have withdrawn! But we won’t leave you, Sir Rodon!”

  “Fight on, my brothers!” Rodon shouted, finally regaining his feet.

  Frightened by the large number of human warriors coming out of the underbrush and the ferocity of Bladeborn’s attacks, a few Rhinolon began to flee.

  Several Rhinolon were chased down and killed by Rodon’s men, but a pack-beast driver, spurting blood from arrow-wounds, stood firm. Rodon charged it and got past its maul-swing, then drove his rapier into its gut.