Chapter Seventeen

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Erden

Year 1348 (Thirty Years Prior to Present Day)

He had expected to be dismissed from his position. What he had not anticipated was the lengthy interrogation that proceeded his removal from the library staff.

The Lady had asked him so many questions that he could not remember even half of them. They had all been accusatory in tone, most focused on who Cupela was, and why she needed to access the basement. What startled him most however, were the multitude of questions Udesip had asked him about his own life. With whom did he associate? Was he being paid to collect information? Had he stolen documents from the library? Was he a spy?

When she gave him leave to speak, he told her exactly what happened. Cupela had not explained her actions to him, and he was ignorant as to her reasons for acting with such urgency. Voice cracking, hands wiping sweat from his forehead, he knew he appeared more culpable than he truly was. As for whether he was believed, he could only guess. The Lady gave him nothing, her face hidden from his appraisal.

As the interrogation continued, he became increasingly fearful that he would be passed along to a greater authority, perhaps for criminal charges. Instead, The Lady ordered him to never speak of the incident. He was told to leave the library, and never to return. And though she did not threaten him, he knew that he would not dare defy her again.

When he arrived home early from work, he found his mother on the patio behind their rowhouse, hanging clothes to dry. Having been forbidden to mention the circumstances behind his dismissal had proven to be a blessing in disguise, as he was able to invent a story about quitting his position without feeling guilty for lying to his mother. When she questioned what he would do with his life now that he was out of work, Erden said he had a plan, but that he wanted to keep it to himself until it was on steady footing. Of course he had no plan, but the thought of suffering through another interrogation, this time from his parents, gave him no other choice than to weave a somewhat plausible tale.

Over the next few days, he left the house each morning before his parents awoke, passing the day roaming the city streets, racking his mind in an effort to conceive an actual plan. On this day he had paused by the docks of the Quartz District, hoping an ocean view would inspire him.

The breeze quickly wiped the sweat away from his forehead as he passed dock workers unloading shipping vessels and fishermen bringing in the day’s catch. In his right hand, he flipped a small object end over end in mindless habit. Since he had found the glass vial, he had not been separated from it for a moment. It brought him a bit of comfort, though he was not conscious of its effect. Whenever he did catch himself playing with it, he would put it back in a leather pouch for safe keeping. Moments later, it would find itself back into his hand, and the motion would start again.

He reached an isolated section of the dock and sat down, legs dangling over the water. Looking out onto the horizon, what came to mind was not a possible employment opportunity, but tales he had read of explorers who sailed into uncharted territory. Though he had never been more than a mile from the shore, he could summon the images of sailors working the decks, a lookout spying land in the distance, his call sending the others rushing to the sides of the ship to see if they could catch a glimpse of a new world. It was a scene full of excitement and possibilities.

As his one journey out to sea had seen him getting sick and having to ask the captain of the tiny boat to turn back around before the docks were even out of sight, he did not think a naval life was for him. It did however instill upon him a desire for adventure. Instead of reading of heroes and great deeds, I should be living the role.

Of all the stories he knew inside and out, the tales of soldiers were his favorites. Incredible swordsmen who never shied away from danger, their lives took them to exotic foreign lands where they encountered wonders of which the commoners could never dream. Each day brought the potential for something new, whether it be a challenge to overcome, or a prize to be won. And never did those heroes cower in the face of danger. Meanwhile I flinch at the mere thought of Udesip. Well, no longer.

It was decided. He would become a soldier.

Less than a bell later, Erden walked through the Royal District, his hands clenched in fists, until he arrived at the barracks of the Royal Protectors. The two men on duty at the entrance gave no sign of acknowledgement as he approached and then halted but a few feet away.

“I am looking for the recruitment office,” he said with more bass in his voice than usual.

“I’m looking for the end of my shift,” one of the guards replied.

“Yes… well, could you please point me in the right direction?”

The man lazily lifted one arm and pointed behind Erden, who looked back, then at the two men again. “Do you have the address?”

“No.”

“How does a man typically go about doing this?”

“Use that line with the ladies, do you?”

Blushing and stammering, Erden felt the intense urge to flee. But he did not want to waste the burst of adrenaline he felt, and so he pushed further. “May I speak with a ranking officer, please?”

“Sure,” the second man said. “Oi, Sergeant,” he howled back through the door of the barracks. “Come out here.” He smiled as an enormous man wearing naught but a pair of brown pants opened the door and looked out.

“Demon’s balls,” the man said. “What do you want?”

“Boy here wants to join the ranks.”

“Great. Send him to the recruitment office in the Topaz District. Maybe they’ll turn him into someone who can do a damn thing on his own without calling me.” With that, he slammed the door.

The two guards looked at each other and laughed.

“Thank you,” Erden said.

“Our pleasure,” the first man replied. “Hurry up, and might be they’ll make you a sergeant.”

Erden made to move when he noticed the two men’s backs straighten and their eyes go wide. He looked back to see three soldiers approach. Sticking out from each of their backs, just to the right of their faces, were sword pommels. Erden’s breath caught in his lungs as the men drew closer. “Lieutenant Kingsley, sir,” both guards said, giving firm salutes in unison.

“As you were,” the middle of the three newcomers said. Erden could see that he was at least twenty years older than the other two, though still an imposing figure, his trimmed beard covering a formidable jawline, his shoulders broad and strong. He and the other two Blades passed Erden without a second thought, until, drawing deep on his diminutive reserve of courage, Erden cleared his throat.

“Lieutenant Kingsley,” he said, drawing the attention of all five of the men. “It is an honor to meet you. I would like to offer my services to The Blades.”

The two guards laughed until Kingsley looked back at them gravely. Then, turning to Erden, he spoke. “It’s rather bold to request entrance into the most elite military company in the world. Though, that may be in your favor. Most men would never dare to suggest such a thing, and daring men may be who we’re looking for.”

A glance passed between the two soldiers on the lieutenant’s sides, but went unnoticed by Erden, his eyes fastened on the man who he had addressed. “There is, of course, a trial for initiation. One that most do not pass.”

“I’m eager for the challenge, sir,” Erden said.

“It’s not a matter of wanting it,” Kingsley continued, a gleam in his eyes. “It’s a matter of skill.”

A mile outside of the city walls, a gust of warm wind blew the sandy soil into Erden’s face where he held his hands up to shield his vision from the glaring sun. He felt as though he had not had a drop of water in years, his throat was so parched from the heat and his nerves. It had been two days since he had spoken with the lieutenant, and Erden was unsure the man would truly show himself. Then, just as the sun hit its apex, three figures made the descent over the final hill, the rustling of their steps the only sound other than the howling of the wind.

Each man carried upon his back a two-handed sword, yet only one of them was wearing any protective gear—a mail jerkin and leather gloves. Erden recognized the lieutenant, while the other two men were strangers. One was a tall, muscular man who began chatting with Kingsley. The other was a much younger man, but also sufficiently physically imposing, at least in comparison to Erden. A few paces away, the men halted. The lieutenant inclined his head slightly toward the man with whom he had been speaking. “Here he is.”

“Greetings,” the man said. “Kinsley tells me you are looking to join our operation.”

Erden kept his face as stern as possible. “I am,” he said.

“Excellent. My name is Sarthak. I am the captain of The Blades. I assume that Kinsley informed you as to our induction process.”

“He did.”

“Wonderful,” Sarthak said with a smile. He lightly elbowed the lieutenant, Kinsley, in the side. “I knew promoting you was a good idea.” He turned back to Erden. “Well then, let’s be on with it. We are in the middle of a war after all.”

The third man shifted into a fighting stance. Sarthak gestured to him. “This is our newest recruit, Roliher. He is young, but a strong swordsman. No doubt you spent countless days working on your swordsmanship before requesting entrance into our ranks.”

“No, sir.”

Sarthak shrugged. “More of a natural talent, then.” He looked back to Roliher. “Whenever you’re ready. As always, the first man who yields or falls to a knee loses.”

Oh, shit.

The young swordsman jolted forward and swung his weapon before Erden could fully lift his sword to block. The blunted blade slapped him hard across the chest. He crumbled to his knees, the wind escaping his lungs. Dropping his sword, he wrapped his arms around his body and rolled onto his side.

Sarthak walked forward and looked down on him. He held his hand out, but Erden was in too much pain to move his arms.

“Hmm…” Sarthak started. “Roliher, your place within the company is secured. You may return to the city. Kingsley, please assist our friend here.”

Roliher marched off without a word. The other two Blades lifted Erden up to a standing position. Sarthak righted him to halt his wobbling. “Your ambition caught my attention, I have to admit. And when Kingsley told me you took the bait and truly believed the story he invented, well, I was even more curious. So, I asked around about you. It turns out you worked at the library shelving books.”

Erden nodded.

“Then what made you think you could become a Blade?”

Erden grimaced and bit down on his lip. He swallowed, the action causing a not insignificant amount of pain. “I wish to become more than I am, to convert myself into a man of strength and honor. I want to belong to a brotherhood, and to see the world I know so little of.”

“A noble intention. You have never fought with a sword before, have you?”

“When I was a boy. Though it was made of wood.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Sarthak said, holding back a smile. “You are not a typical recruit, as I am sure you have recently ascertained. However, that is to your advantage, and ours. Erden, we have plenty of soldiers. We are likely, man to man, the strongest fighting force on this continent. We do not need you to fight for us.”

Oh. I should have put more thought into this.

“However,” Sarthak continued. “We could, nevertheless, make use of you. Our company’s quartermaster has wished to retire for many years, but I have needed him to stay on. However, now that we are back in the capital, where his family resides, I feel it would crush him to have to leave them again. If you work with books, the position of quartermaster, one of letters and numbers, should suit you well, yes?”

Erden beamed. “It would suit me quite well.”

Sarthak let his full smile out from its hiding and stuck out his hand. “Your boldness and honesty have won me over. Welcome aboard.”

Erden shook the captain’s hand, then Kingsley’s.
“And by the way,” Sarthak said. “Dueling a new recruit is not our induction policy. Kingsley simply wanted to have a laugh at your expense.”

Not the heroic start I hoped for.

He put a muscular arm around Erden, perhaps unintentionally driving home the point that the young man was out of his element. The captain’s voice seemed genuine however, and his presence was working to put Erden somewhat at ease. “Kingsley is always good for a distraction, but we have duties to attend to. You included, Erden.”

At the barracks, Sarthak led Erden into a room packed with at least two dozen wooded crates filled with miscellaneous pieces of armor and variously sized swords. The captain lit two lanterns that hung from poles and crossed his arms, surveying the mess.

The items that Erden could see were filthy. Mud and other substances were stained on nearly everything. Even to his untrained eyes, it was clear many of the objects were broken. Blades were badly nicked, hinges were bent.

“The most immediate need we have is to sort through the equipment we have taken during this campaign,” Sarthak said. “I’m afraid it will be tedious, but what it lacks in glamour it more than makes up for in dullness,” he laughed. “Don’t worry. Most of your duties will consist of paper work, but now and again there will be some heavy lifting. When you are done with this, find me and I will introduce you to our blacksmiths. They will appreciate not having to deal with me so directly, so you should not have any issues getting quickly acquainted. Paper and ink are on the table. There’s food in the room on your left. Do you have any questions?”

“Sort the equipment so that helmets are in one group, vambraces in another? That sort of categorization?”

“Precisely. Use your own judgement if there are any ambiguities. I have other tasks to attend to, but I won’t be difficult to find,” Sarthak said, turning to leave. He stopped and looked back at Erden. “Oh, and your salary will be equal to that of the regular infantrymen. You will of course be in charge of payments, so no worries regarding obtaining the money. I apologize for leaving you with this as your introduction to the company, but I have some business to attend to with the 10th battalion. It unfortunately requires my undivided attention. Farewell.”

“Farewell.”

Not wishing to reflect on the decisions that led him to a room full of junk, Erden got to work.

He had no way to mark the passage of time, but the sky was pitch black by the time he was done. He took only one short break to eat and use the latrine, and had worked with his usual focused dedication. In truth, it felt good to be working, as though it made his position in the company more real, and his goals that much closer. The task had been simple enough and as long as he was not in charge of cleaning the materials, he considered it a positive experience. It would be useful to become more familiar with martial equipment after all.

The barracks were empty with the exception of a few guards. Believing he would not get a straight answer from them, and not wanting to look lost on his first assignment, Erden did not ask where all the other soldiers had gone. When he stepped outside, he began to hear noises. Cheering. He headed towards the sound.

The noise led him around the back of the building and onto a cleared area which he took to be a training ground. At least two hundred soldiers formed a massive circle in the center of the open space. Along the fringe of the group, he saw the standard featuring the crossed swords of crimson on the indigo background which represented The Blades raised high in the air, and on the opposite side, another flag of indigo with a mailed fist of crimson, a sigil with which he was unfamiliar.

Erden pressed into the crowd and sidled through. Cheers continued on all sides, sometimes followed by laughs or preceded by gasps. In between the cheering were calls for wagers, words of encouragement, and some rather inventive cursing as well. Closer to the center of the circle, Erden could hear the clang of steel. He stood on the tips of his toes to peer over the final few rows of soldiers. The crowd stood back from a clearing roughly thirty yards in diameter. In that cleared space were eight armed men. Seven of them wore plate armor. Of those, five held short swords and shields. The other two were equipped with two-handed axes. Across from that group stood another soldier. He held a two-handed sword and wore cloth shirt and leather trousers.

The group of seven men were all breathing heavily. They spoke amongst themselves, but Erden could not make out the words. Suddenly, they spread out to encircle the lone soldier on the other side of the clearing. The man watched them with an almost apathetic lack of regard. When they had fully surrounded him, they rushed forward.

What Erden witnessed next took his breath away. Not so for the majority of the other spectators who were hollering and jumping up and down. The man in the middle slid under and between two of the attackers. He popped up behind them and swung his sword against their helmets, knocking them out cold. Two more men charged him. He parried their attacks effortlessly. He then dodged a blow from a shield and kicked that man to the ground. He grabbed hold of the sword arm of the other attacker and twisted it. The man screamed loudly enough to be heard over the crowd, and went to his knees, gripping his arm.

The man who had been kicked to the ground recovered and joined the other three attackers. They slowly approached the lone swordsman. This time, he surprised them by jolting forward. He chopped at one of the axe wielders on the outside, then spun around him. From behind, he hit the man in the head with the pommel of his sword. That man staggered into one of his companions. The swordsman swung hard against the second man’s left arm, which bent horribly backwards.

The crowd, which had sounded mostly in favor of the lone swordsman had shifted completely to his side. They cheered uproariously with his every move. He dashed to the remaining two men. With swings to quick that Erden could not track them, he disarmed both men of their weapons. With an upthrust, he knocked the shield out of one of the men’s hands. Weaponless, the two men went to their knees and begged for mercy. The swordsman obliged.

The noise from the crowd had begun to hurt Erden’s ears. A few men ran into the circle and lifted the swordsmen onto their shoulders. They paraded him around while the rest of the crowd cheered. The swordsman had a slight smile on his face, but appeared to be mostly indifferent to the hoopla.

As the spectators dispersed in various directions, Erden was able to find Kingsley. He took a long drink from a clay jug and laughed to himself. “What was all that?” Erden asked.

“That was Abraham.”

“The one man against the seven?”

“Yes. A minor workout for our champion,” Kingsley said before taking another drink.

“Who was he fighting? And why?”

Kingsley looked at Erden and gave him a wild grin. “The commanders of the 10th had some impolite words for our captain. Abraham didn’t care for their words or their tone. They set some of their guards on him. You would think they would have learned by now, seeing as how he’s saved their asses so many times, but officers aren’t always the smartest people. After he took down their guards, a few of their best soldiers challenged him to a fight. That was them you saw getting embarrassed in front of all these people.”

“I’ve heard of him. I heard he defeated a dozen men at once. I didn’t know if it was fact or fiction.”

Kingsley wiped his mouth. “You do now.”

“I do.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you know where the captain is?”

“No, but I can guess he’s trying to smooth things over with the 10th. They may be idiots, but we do have to work with them. Follow me. I should be checking on him anyway, being as how I’m an officer and all.”

They stopped in front a building which was identical to the barracks in which The Blades were housed. Four guards blocked the entrance and did not seem inclined to let them pass.

“Lieutenant Kingsley of The Blades,” Kingsley told them.

“No one is allowed in. Orders from the marshal,” one of the guards replied gruffly.

“Then send a message to Captain Sarthak. Tell him I’m waiting outside.”

“In a few minutes,” the guard said. “Right now we’re busy.”

“Busy being assholes,” Kingsley said loudly enough for whoever was inside of the tent to hear.

The guards all put their hands on their weapons. In response, Kingsley crossed his arms and snorted. Before tensions could grow further, the flap of the tent was pushed open to reveal Sarthak. “Get in here before you get yourself killed,” he said to Kingsley before closing the flap again.

“See,” Kingsley said. “I’m an invited guest.”

The lead guard sighed. “Place your weapons on the ground. All of them.”

Kingsley unstrapped his sword belt and let it fall onto the grass. He then pulled out a staggering number of knives from hidden compartments under his shirt, inside his trousers, and even in his boots. “If you take even one, I’ll sick Abraham on you,” he said with a feral grin.

They found their way to the Marshal’s war room. The officers of the 10th were seated behind glasses of wine at an enormous wooden table. Sarthak stood on the right of the table. Next to him was the lone swordsman who Erden had seen before. Abraham.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” Kingsley said, saluting the seated men.

“I do not recall inviting you to this gathering,” the man seated in the middle of the table said. He looked over at Sarthak. “Who are these men?”

“That is my lieutenant, Kingsley and our quartermaster, Erden.”

“And what are they doing here?”

“I asked them to retrieve me if I was taking too much of your time. I have a bad habit of dragging things out. Thank you for following orders,” he said looking to Erden and Kingsley. “Quartermaster, this is Marshal Jouse, the commanding officer of our campaign against the rebels.”

Marshal Jouse’s gaze swung to Abraham. “I did not believe I would have to inform anyone of who was in charge, or how they are to treat their superiors.”

Abraham did not speak or show any reaction to the comment. His eyes had been on the marshal since the man began speaking.

The marshal waved a servant over to refill his glass. “This will not happen again. Your point was made, whatever it was. If there is another incident of gross disrespect, there will be serious problems. Is that clear?”

“It is,” Sarthak said.

“No,” Marshal Jouse snapped. “I want to hear from Abraham.”

All eyes shifted to the swordsman, who, Erden realized, was still wearing his two-handed sword on his back.

“Understood, Marshal,” Abraham said.

Back outside of 10th barracks, Kingsley collected his weapons and the four Blades headed toward their camp.

“He is correct that a military operation can only have one leader. We will continue to follow his orders and show him respect, as it is our duty. He knows he cannot win without us, and that no other company is capable of replacing us in the field. If he did not believe so, he would have doled out a punishment, or at the very least given a true ultimatum. When the war is over, that is a different matter entirely. Once this partnership has ended… well, we will see.”

The Blades continued their walk, Erden mulling over the captain’s last words, and wondering why they made him so uneasy.