Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  A Rhinolon merchant, hit by several arrows, found enough courage to jump off a cart and onto Bladeborn. Despite the creature being twice his size, Bladeborn dropped his shield and twisted around, grabbing the Rhinolon’s horn. The beast’s thick neck snapped loudly.

  Still holding the horn of the dead Rhinolon merchant, Bladeborn extended the point of the Sword of the Ancients toward the Rhinolon that were getting away, “Nightslayer! Stop them!”

  A forked bolt of lightning hit the fleeing Rhinolon with such force that all of them fell. The SOUND Nightslayer’s electrical pulse caused everyone to look, including Bladeborn’s retreating footmen.

  Through the trees, the forty heavy footmen could see that the day was won. Some hurried back to help kill the wounded Rhinolon, while others stood, dumbfounded.

  Sir Rodon exclaimed, “What was that? Where did that burst of lightning come from?”

  “That is one of the many powers this Sword gives me, Sir Rodon,” Bladeborn called to his compatriot, holding forth Nightslayer. Both men were out of breath and exhilarated by the rush of combat.

  Still catching his breath, Rodon asked and what killed the first ten Rhinolon, Bladeborn? They all dropped dead as one!”

  “It is a skill I have that is based in magical Essence,” Bladeborn replied.

  “I’m glad you are on our side!” Rodon said back, smiling.

  All foes were slain, without one human injury. They liberated two scouts of the Second Realm, who weeks before had been captured in Rhinolon territory.

  The first of the freed humans said, “By the gods, my undying gratitude goes to you two!”

  “I will sing your praises all the way to King Rosen!” the other freed human said. “I can find my own way back. I would never have been caught, but Jonax wanted to get a closer look at the caravan. He is foolish, and it nearly cost us our lives.”

  “Please, good Knight,” said the first freed scout to Bladeborn. “Jonax is my name, commander! Make me your squire! Although my friend would call me foolish, I believe nothing is more important than the safety of our Realms. On Sir Rodon knows the countryside near the Realms better than I do, and I will follow your orders, come what may! This I swear!”

  Bladeborn looked to Rodon, who said, “I know this Jonax, and he is something of a legend among the people. On several occasions, he has been able to sneak into Rhinolon forts and free humans being held there. He is a good man.”

  Bladeborn said, “I will need help, Jonax and Sir Rodon vouches for your character.”

  “Looks like you have gained a squire, Bladeborn,” Rodon said, smiling a bit at the young scout’s enthusiasm.

  “I accept your offer,” Bladeborn said. “I could use your help, but I am not a Knight—just one who wants safety for the Six Realms. Go help Sir Rodon’s men. Find my sergeant and the rest of my foot soldiers.”

  “Right away!” Jonax exclaimed.

  Bladeborn took Nightslayer and cut the leather straps that tied fifteen Drommu to Raider Poles. “We are free!” One of them said in delight.

  The largest of them called to his fellows, “Drommu of the Cliffwalker Tribe! Do you not know who has rescued us? This is Bladeborn, the Man of the North!”

  They all gasped and bowed down before Bladeborn, murmuring in disbelief.

  Before Bladeborn could muster a response, Rodon said, to them, “Go back to your homes in the desert. Be wary of the Rhinolon—they seek this man, whom they call ‘the accused one.’”

  “Could we instead join with Bladeborn’s camp?” The strong-looking Drommu asked.

  Rodon was shocked by the question. He said aside to Bladeborn, “This is quite unusual. Almost every Drommu I have met has been weak and soft-spirited.”

  The lead Drommu continued, “I am the Chief of what is left of our tribe, the Cliffwalkers.”

  “I have heard of your tribe,” Bladeborn said.

  The Cliffwalker Chief puffed up with pride and asked, “You have heard of us? All Drommu know of you. Bladeborn, you are the greatest friend the Drommu ever had, for you taught us we could fight back. Most of the Drommu have fled to the coast, to the deepest reaches of the Blasted Plain. An army of Rhinolon, headed by their war-leader, Durg the Despicable, builds outposts in the Raider Marches, and they try to hunt us. Yet you have taught us how to hunt THEM!”

  More than surprised now, Rodon said, “Surely you jest, little one.”

  The Drommu Cliffwalker Chief said, “It took many Rhinolon warriors to capture our tribe. We struck down dozens of them before we were overcome. Even so, we were planning our escape for tonight. Yet, the Rhinolon Army hunts not just us—they hunt YOU, Bladeborn—and the Sword.”

  Another Drommu said, “Let us work for you. Some of us can fight and all of us can carry your goods.”

  Bladeborn said, “Each of you will have to make a strong showing, if you are to join with us. Listen, Cliffwalker, I had Drommu from two tribes who I used to trust. Their Chief came from the Brave Camp, and his name was Swiftknife. I don’t know what happened to him. Can you tell me? Have you heard of this Drommu, of the Brave Camp?”

  “I do not know a Drommu of that name and I have not heard of Brave Camp,” The Cliffwalker leader said, “But some speak of certain powerful Drommu, ones who bear what is called ‘the mark of the blood.’ They are stronger than other Drommu, and are gathering the tribes far to the North.”

  “What else can you tell of them?” Bladeborn asked.

  “Little,” The Cliffwalker leader said. “But some use magic. They claim to see a future for our people of towering cities. It is our people’s new vision.”

  “Odd,” Sir Rodon commented. “I thought the Drommu feared all types of magic.”

  “Those of the mark of the blood do not,” The Cliffwalker leader said. “We were on our way to join with them when our tribe battled the Rhinolon—these fifteen are now all of us.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Bladeborn said. Sir Rodon seemed shocked that Bladeborn would apologize to the wild and mud-caked creature.

  “Let us fight!” the Cliffwalker leader growled. “We will make the Rhinolon pay!”

  Bladeborn said, “It was with the Drommu that I carved a path through the Rhinolon, during a year in the desert. They can hunt for us, and with training, they are as good as any man.”

  “Don’t they run at the first sign of a fight?” Rodon asked.

  Bladeborn simply nodded to Rodon’s Sergeant, who walked, head lowered, behind Jonax. All Bladeborn’s disloyal heavy footmen had been corralled, and Bladeborn would stand in judgement of them.

  Regarding these men, Rodon said, “Decommission them all, and report their crime to the First Realm’s Military Court. I am certain they will all be banished from the First Realm, and the Sergeant will likely be flogged. It is indeed a harsh punishment but their crime is high. Their inaction nearly got both of us killed, Bladeborn.”

  However, Bladeborn insisted that he reprimand his men in a fitting manner.

  The footmen listened intently to their fates as Bladeborn spoke: “I know why you all didn’t charge with me. You have been fighting the Rhinolon off and on all your lives, so I know none of you are cowards. I won’t accuse you of that. But no man wants to charge into a suicide attack. And until you saw me fight in an actual battle, you had no way of knowing…. Sergeant, you are hereby downgraded to infantryman. I will advance the next in line to the position of Sergeant. This must be done. But there will be no floggings or other punishment.”

  Bladeborn saw his men, and especially his Sergeant, were greatly relieved. “All I ask in return for this one-time boon is that the next time you fight, when things look bad, you fight harder! Nothing is gained by giving up. We backslide when we are in-fighting! Remember though…this is the only time I will deliver this speech!”

  The men were stunned by his act of mercy.

  “Will you accept this boon and fight for me?”

  “Aye,” the footmen heartily agreed.

  Later that evenin
g, Sir Rodon asked Bladeborn if he thought he could trust the men he commanded.

  “I have no choice, Rodon.” Bladeborn answered. “I was once the favorite of the Queen. To win back her affection I must continue to win battles. I cannot do it without soldiers.”

  “So, you still claim that you do this for the Queen’s affection?” Rodon raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “It is true,” Bladeborn admitted.

  “You, my friend,” Rodon said, taking a deep drink from his canteen, “are the biggest fool I have ever met!”

  Several days later, they attacked a larger caravan, killing all the Rhinolon in it. The battle went much as the first one had, but this time, with the heavy footmen to help, it was more satisfying to Bladeborn. Queen Deocarla’s name was their rallying cry, and the hour was won again without a man lost.

  Bladeborn personally commended his men for bravery, singling out some by name and deeds—with the aid of the acute battle awareness of Nightslayer. The men thought Bladeborn had seen everything that happened to each of them in the skirmish. As they talked Bladeborn could hear them agreeing that his presence during the assault was uncanny.

  More victories followed, and other prisoners were released. Bladeborn’s men learned to trust him implicitly as a commander.

  At night in the field, after composing short letters to Deocarla, Bladeborn would go outside of the camp and practice his unique abilities. In recent battles, he was increasing his height by up to two feet. His Essence was growing stronger, and the attacks normally began with his killing wave of psychic energy. He discovered that was beginning to teach himself how to move into an alternate dimension, able to pass his hand through solid rock. He could even alter Nightslayer with some of these abilities.

  But accessing the power of Divine Fate, the ‘room that was not a room,’ was impossible.

  ~~You will never use Divine Fate frivolously. The rare gift is unpredictable—do not rely on it~~

  “How do you know of such things?” Bladeborn asked Nightslayer.

  The Sword remained silent.

  The small army, continuing to fight in Deocarla’s name, was soon caught up in an eagerness for battle. If a man was wounded, Bladeborn could often save him using psychic healing power. Bladeborn could turn the tide of battle and rescue men who fell short, as though he was everywhere in a skirmish.

  “I am several years older than you, Bladeborn, and I am a trained Knight,” Sir Rodon said candidly to Bladeborn one evening that summer. “I naturally assumed that the men would look to me for leadership. But I have no doubt after the first few victories that the men look to you for your commands. I am humbled not only by your undeniable magical powers, but by your skill as a war-leader. I have been consistently impressed with how you act in the middle of combat to save men who are down, and your ability to heal wounds must come from the gods themselves.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Bladeborn said. “We have been lucky so far.”

  “It is far more than luck!” Rodon laughed, “We have slain over a hundred Rhinolon and freed scores of Drommu from their clutches! Sara Ayaba, on his visits to the First Realm, reports that tales of our victories have spread throughout the Six Valleys. My Uncle, who is another Knight, will soon be joining our camp! In a letter from him he says I have made the family proud... And yet, my friend, as much as a part of me would like to take credit for it all, I understand it is your heroism that inspires us.”

  Bladeborn said, “Your words are too kind, Sir Rodon, for we have a long journey ahead. I think of our forces as three separate entities working together. The footmen are the like the “sun” and your scouts and Archers are the like the “moon.” The “dawn,” must be the Drommu who fight alongside us, attacking in groups to finish off the wounded Rhinolon. Thus, we will continue to grow.”

  Rodon’s Uncle, Sir Drak Lomazi, and two other First Realm Knights joined, bringing along their men. Sir Lomazi was the one First Realm Knight who had treated Bladeborn with respect, before the incident with Sir Dreadsta changed things.

  With the addition of Sir Lomazi and the other two Knights, The Army of the Sun and Moon swelled to over two hundred men and scores of Drommu making up the aspect of the Dawn.

  “I must admit,” Sir Drak Lomazi said to Bladeborn, “when you limped into the training hall of the First Realm last fall, I wrote you off as a barbarian. But now I see that I was wrong.”

  Bladeborn asked Sir Lomazi, “Have any of my letters reached her? Does she know what we are doing here?”

  “Who?” Lomazi asked.

  “The Queen!” Bladeborn said, as though it had been obvious. “My squire, Jonax, has made monthly trips between here and the courier post since we’ve been afield…”

  “He writes her after every battle, Uncle,” Sir Rodon said. “He told me that her fights for her favor…”

  Rodon’s Uncle and the other two Knights laughed.

  Then Sir Lomazi leaned in and told Bladeborn, “I don’t think she even knows we’re alive out here. She hasn’t emerged from the palace wing since the night of Sir Dreadsta’s disgrace.”

  Bladeborn’s mood visibly plunged.

  “Cheer up, my friend,” Sir Rodon Thell said, placing his hand on Bladeborn’s shoulder. “My Uncle and the other two Knights brought supplies from the First Realm.”

  “The growing season was harsh this year in the First Valley, this year, despite the preparations last fall,” Sir Drak Lomazi stated. “Deocarla and many others have generously given food to keep the army in the field. Her military court, at least, thinks highly of us.”

  “Do you see, Bladeborn?” Sir Rodon asked. “It isn’t so bad. And my Uncle has brought wine…”

  Bladeborn took a few sips and sat with his fellows until after they gone to sleep. Then he rose from his bedroll by the embers of the fire and walked out into the darkness, thinking about the Heartring he wore as her favor. It still glowed, but Deocarla hadn’t written him. Under the stars of the chilly fall night, away from the campfires, he practiced his powers for some time, yet he longed to see her.

  Suddenly, Nightslayer interrupted his reverie, ~~Forget this woman, Bladeborn! Your obsession with her is making you look foolish to the others!~~

  Bladeborn responded, “I will not give up on my love for Deocarla. My loyalty and my promise are not fickle things. You would not understand that. You are merely a piece of metal.”

  In a loud, metallic voice that rang out within Bladeborn’s mind, the Sword responded, ~~You would be SURPRISED at what I know of men!~~

  Bladeborn was shocked by the aggressive response from Nightslayer.

  “Tell me, then, what do you know, Sword of the Ancients?” Bladeborn demanded. “What do you know of desire?”

  The Sword was silent, and remained so for a very long time afterwards.

  * * *

  Their focus became shutting down caravan traffic between the Shaman Tower known as the Zelgron and Onager. They couldn’t strike outposts, but they managed to stop the Rhinolon traders and suppliers between the outposts. It wasn’t easy: the Rhinolon had increased the size of their trade groups and placed extra Guards among them. Rhinolon resistance against the Army of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn was heavy. Bladeborn could no longer control the battles, so men or Drommu would be injured or killed in almost every conflict.

  There was no sign of the Rhinolon from the first legion or Durg the Despicable. The Drommu they freed from the caravans informed Bladeborn that Durg was still far away in the Northern Raider Marches.

  Bladeborn’s letters to Queen Deocarla detailed aspects of their life in camp and their struggles. He asked the Queen to give condolences to the families of those who fell.

  He also told her in these letters how his love for her was growing even stronger over time. But the letters were unanswered. She sent nothing in return, and then the supplies from the military court of the First Realm altogether stopped.

  As winter came, the Army of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn ran low on food, and the hills
of the southern Spiral Mountains in the center of the continent were bitterly cold. Jonax and Sera Ayaba were both sent by Bladeborn and Sir Rodon to procure supplies. The Knights even went so far as to spend their limited family wealth on the campaign. Rodon, Lomazi and the other two Knights with them felt that keeping the pressure on the Zelgron was the only way to lift the curse, and what they were doing just might save the Six Kingdoms from doom.

  However, it only lasted so long. The other two Knights who had come with Sir Lomazi eventually left, saying their plan was based on foolish assumptions. A heavy snow fell, blocking the passes into the mountains, leaving Bladeborn, Rodon, and Lomazi out in the field with their two hundred men and one hundred Drommu, starving.

  “How do the Rhinolon Shaman eat, Bladeborn?” Rodon asked rhetorically. “We have cut off their supplies of food.”

  “There must be irrigated orchards on the south side of the tower, Rodon. A food source we have yet to see is keeping them fed. We may be preventing them from getting any more Drommu to eat or sacrifice, and they may have no wheat to make bread with, but I am convinced they have ‘Winter Trees.”

  “What are Winter Trees?” Rodon asked.

  “Long ago, when I left Fortress City, I nearly starved. Fortunately, in the mountains there was a source of food I called ‘Winter Trees.’ They aren’t like the normal apple or pear trees that your people introduced me to when I arrived in the Six Realms. What I harvested from them kept me going until I came across the Drommu.”

  Rodon said, “There is a large orchard on the far side of the tower, this I know. Sera Ayaba, my trusted scout, has been there,” Rodon sat back, shivering against the cold, his stomach growling. “A lot of good this knowledge does us now, fifteen days march through a blizzard from there!”

  Bladeborn and Sir Rodon continued discussing strategy while supplies dwindled and deliveries from the Six Realms failed to arrive.