Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (28 page)

The spectacle, however, was unacceptable. The greatest prize
of such an experience should be the opportunity to improve one’s
Skills
.
Fame and fortune were completely unnecessary. Rezkin wondered at why the king
would allow such blatant violation of the
Rules
but decided it was
really up to the individual to comply with the
Rules
on his own accord.

“I heard that it’s a scouting opportunity for the king. If
you perform well, you could be invited to join the Royal Guard,” Tam said. He leaned
in conspiratorially and said, “I even heard that the top place winner could
earn a place with the
Strikers
.”

Rezkin’s ears perked. This was the first time he had heard
anyone refer to the strikers since he had left the fortress. “What do you know
of the strikers?” he asked casually.

Tam shrugged, “Only what everybody else says – that
they are the king’s elite forces. Not like the Royal Guards, but better. They
are the ones he sends in for the really difficult and dirty tasks like spying
or assassinations or stealth combat. That kind of thing.”

One of Jimson’s men, Corporal Lattery, interjected, “From
what I heard, the king has his own assassin, but I think you’re right about the
rest. We’ve been told that if a striker ever reveals himself to us or sets foot
on a battlefield, he’s to be treated as a general, although they never go into
any more detail than that.”

“So, there will be strikers at this tournament?” asked
Rezkin.

“Undoubtedly,” replied Lieutenant Jimson. “You might see a
few of them in uniform acting as officials, but most you would never notice.”
The lieutenant eyed the younger man speculatively and then continued. “They do
not expose themselves except for formal occasions, and those are rare. They
will be scouting for talent, most likely, and keeping the peace otherwise. I am
sure you can imagine the problems that could arise when a bunch of trained
swordsmen get heated up over a competition.”

Rezkin nodded grimly. The gentry may accept dueling as an
art, but there was nothing “civilized” about combat that could result in death.
Rule 14 – Do not revel in success
applied to the battle itself, as
well as the final outcome. One should not
enjoy
fighting another person,
nor wounding or killing the opponent.
Rule 37 – Separate from one’s
emotions
should always be observed. Combat and killing were simply
necessary tasks that should incite neither pleasure nor remorse.

Rezkin figured that if he could infiltrate the strikers by
winning the tournament, then he could find out more about their purpose, and
maybe shed some light on his own existence. If the strikers were so important
to the kingdom and utterly secretive, why had they trained him since birth?
Equally curious, why had he been ordered to kill them, and why had that order
resulted in the masters killing each other? Rezkin had never really questioned
his orders to kill. He simply obeyed the masters (
Rule 258
). Now that
the masters were dead and he was responsible for his own actions, he wanted to
know what was going on, and he wanted answers about his past. Perhaps the
strikers would have this information.

Rezkin briefly considered just asking the strikers, but
discarded the notion quickly. Since the young warrior had been ordered to kill
the elite forces, they were likely his enemies. That thought took him to his
next conundrum. If the strikers served the king, did that mean he was an enemy
of the king and therefore of the kingdom? He mentally sighed. If that were the
case, then he would never have been trained by the strikers in the first place.
Something had to have changed that final day in the courtyard, and he needed to
find out what that was. His best bet at getting that information was Striker
Farson, but that seemed like a near impossibility at this point. Therefore, his
second best option was to win the tournament.

“I think, perhaps, I will join this tournament as well,”
Rezkin stated.

“That would be excellent!” said Lieutenant Jimson. “We could
travel together from Kaibain. I already have permission for leave to
participate. The army likes it when their soldiers win,” he said with a smirk.
“Have you participated in other tournaments?”

Rezkin shook his head, “No, I have never competed before.”

“Hmm,” said Lieutenant Jimson, “the tournament coordinators
usually place you in a tier based on your performance in other tournaments.
Since you do not have a ranking, yet, you will probably be responsible for
determining your own level of skill and placing yourself appropriately. You
want to join the highest possible tier for your skills, but if you place
yourself too high, it will be your own fault for getting your hide handed to
you.”

Rezkin nodded unconcernedly. In his mind he was mulling over
methods of hiding his identity. Others may deviate from the
Rules
, but
he had no intention of doing so. Besides, if he really were an enemy of the
kingdom, it would not do him any good for people to learn his face. From his
recent observations of outsiders, he had come to recognize that his looks were
a bit unusual but not completely out of the norm. Many people had black hair,
although most had brown or blonde. Many people also had blue eyes, although the
eyes were usually a bit darker with more grey or green. Few people seemed to
sport both characteristics, though. Combined with his height and above average
physique, he knew he was a memorable figure. In fact, with the combination of
his looks, apparently unusual name, lack of title, and ownership of two
Sheyalin blades and a battle charger, there was pretty much nothing forgettable
about him.

Separating themselves from the group, Rezkin and the
lieutenant found a clear, flat space in which to practice their dueling. Rezkin
set his swords to the side to keep them from getting in the way and hefted the
sword previously loaned to Tam.

“You do not use your own blade?” asked Lieutenant Jimson
curiously.

Rezkin shrugged as if the question was unimportant. “This is
the same standard issue as your own?” he asked as if that would explain it.

“Ye-e-e-e-e-s,” the lieutenant drawled as he nodded. He came
to his own conclusion that the young man just wanted to place them on equal
ground to start.

Rezkin adjusted his
Skill
level to match that of the
lieutenant. The man would gain nothing from being defeated too quickly. At the
end of the exercise, Lieutenant Jimson was sweating, and his breathing was
heavy. Rezkin had barely loosened his muscles.

“You are quite good,” Lieutenant Jimson observed. I think
you are even better than I am. You should do well at the tournament.”

Rezkin thanked the man and casually but politely and pointed
out a few areas in which the man could improve. When they arrived in camp, they
briefly continued their discussion of the dueling practice before their
attention was captured by the roasted meat.

After everyone had eaten and finished their nightly ablutions,
the three companions settled into their bedrolls. Frisha found herself
sandwiched between Tam and Rezkin. She was at least an arm length away from the
handsome man, but she imagined she could feel his body heat soaking into her.
Considering the circumstances, she felt surprisingly safe sleeping out in the
open among so many men, even knowing bandits might be lurking in the shadows.

Rezkin slept lightly, his mind constantly alert to even the
slightest sound or movement. At one point during the night, Frisha rolled into
him and curled up against his side. He had never had anyone so close to him
while he slept, and the experience was unnerving. He did not feel comfortable
being in such a vulnerable position even though he did not expect Frisha to attack
him in his sleep. For one thing, it would serve no purpose. He was aiding and
protecting her, so an attack on him would only hurt
her
. Likewise, she
did not seem like the kind of person who would slip a knife between a sleeping
man’s ribs. But, did he dare put trust in that? There was a
Rule
against
letting down his guard.

The young warrior tried to roll her away without waking the
young woman, but Frisha simply snuggled in closer. He decided she must be cold,
so he wrapped his blanket around her. After several minutes she still had not
moved, so he tried to force himself to relax into that place between sleep and
awake so he could rest.

The young warrior was startled when he suddenly awakened
from a deep sleep. Rezkin was not certain he had slept that deeply before
–
ever
. But, what was it that woke him? Rezkin started to rise
when he realized he was entangled with Frisha who had wrapped her arms and one
leg around him. Was she trying to keep him from leaving? Did she fear he would
abandon her in the night? He would have to reassure her that he had no
intention of shirking his duties. He carefully maneuvered out from under the
sleeping woman. He had no idea how anyone could sleep so soundly. She would
need to practice against such vulnerability.

Rezkin strapped his sword belt to his hips as he moved
through the darkness out of the firelight, careful to avoid looking directly at
the fire so that he could retain his night vision. Corporal Lattery was on
lookout duty and nearly shouted in surprise when Rezkin appeared beside him in
the dark.

“There is movement,” Rezkin whispered to the young soldier.

“I know,” he replied. “I just saw. I was about to go inform
the lieutenant.

Rezkin nodded, “Keep it quiet. They do not know we have seen
them.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but we
haven’t
seen them,”
the corporal replied anxiously.

“Four are coming up the rise over there in that gully. Two
are crouching low in that brush over there, and five more are crawling through
the tall grass twenty yards in that direction. I would guess a similar number
are coming up the other side of the hill in an attempt to surround us,” Rezkin
said, keeping his voice low. “Go alert the others, but do not sound an alarm.

“Yes, sir!” Corporal Lattery whispered firmly with a quick
salute.

Rezkin kept track of the Corporal’s movements in his mind
and noted that someone else was moving from the campsite in his direction.
Lieutenant Jimson arrived a moment later. After a few minutes, the lieutenant
grunted softly and said, “Your eyes must be much better than mine. I can only
make out a few movements that indicate their presence. I cannot determine any
numbers, though. Five of my men are in position on the other side, and I told
your friends to keep their swords on them and stay near the fire. I would not
want them getting lost or killed by accident. That leaves you, me, and Corporal
Lattery on this side. You think we can handle it?”

“It will have to do. When we are done here, we can go help
the others,” Rezkin replied.

The lieutenant frowned at him, “That was not what I meant. I
meant, do you think we need more men on this side?”

“We are more than sufficient,” Rezkin replied with surety.
In truth, he could handle them by himself, but it would take too long and some
could slip by him. He would not turn down assistance when it was offered.

“If you do not mind, lieutenant, I will take the five on the
right, you can take the four in the gully on the left and the corporal can take
the two in the bush,” Rezkin supplied.

The lieutenant sucked in a heavy breath and tried to steady
his nerves. Four was a lot, and he was not sure he could handle them all,
especially if they came at him at once. For that matter, he did not think the
corporal could take two at once if they were coordinated attacks. Rezkin noted
the lieutenant’s hesitation.

“If you both can hold them off for a few minutes, I will
assist you once I have dispatched mine,” he offered.

The lieutenant’s breath released in a
whoosh
. He
wondered at Rezkin’s assertion that the young warrior could even take out all
five men, much less do it quickly enough to render assistance to others.
Lacking a better plan, Jimson decided to accept the offer in the face of their
impending battle. He nodded once, “I think I can do that. Corporal?”

The corporal gulped. “Just hold them off? I think so. I’m
sure I can take them both out if they don’t come at me at once, assuming they
aren’t experts with the blade.”

“I do not expect these to be masters of any sort if their
comrades on the riverboat were anything by which to judge. You will probably be
fine if you stick to the
Rules
,” Rezkin replied. The corporal was not
sure what these rules were but nodded in agreement anyway.

“Okay, go,” Rezkin ordered. The young warrior disappeared
before either man registered his departure. Rezkin slinked through the dark
moving from shadow to shadow. The quarter moon provided just enough light by
which to see, but the clouds and trees created pockets of darkness. Moving
quickly but silently, he circled around behind the encroaching foes with battle
energy coursing through his veins.

The bandits were spread out in the grasses in no particular
fashion. He dispatched the first without a sound, the man never even detecting
his presence. Rezkin stalked silently to the rear of the second, and the bandit
whipped around just as Rezkin bore down on top of him. Kingslayer sliced
through the bandit’s gut, and the doomed man released a guttural moan as his
intestines spilled across the grass. Rezkin drew Bladesunder across the man’s
throat to put him out of his misery. Red blood, black in the darkness, spurted
over the ground, but Rezkin was already gone.

The noise from the last victim had alerted the next man in
the line who jumped up with a shout. At just about the same time, the clash of
metal and shouts resounded from other locations around the hill. His third
opponent ran at him with a growl, raising a one-handed battle-ax over his head.
The man brought the ax down toward Rezkin’s head, and rather than parrying the
heavy weapon, Rezkin dodged and knocked it aside. The man swung his other fist
around, which held a long, serrated dagger. Rezkin used his short sword to
block the strike, taking the hand off at the wrist, and Kingslayer came down in
an arch nearly splitting the man in two.