Child of Fate (4 page)

“Head on in. I need to tend to some things
but I’ll be back shortly,” the priest explained.

Alto nodded and opened the door. Inside, the
air smelled fresher than the outside, which surprised him. He found
himself in a common area and saw William sitting on a bench and
oiling his sword.

“Ho there, lad,” William said. He recognized
him a moment later. “Ah, you’d be the one from Monterose! The
goblin-slayer,” he said, chuckling. “Are there more of them about
that we missed?”

“No, I…is Tristam here?” Alto asked
nervously.

William nodded and stood up, wiping his sword
clean and sheathing it. He carried it and gestured for Alto to
follow him.

He led him through an open doorway and down a
passage into a galley-style kitchen. On the far side of it, they
walked down another hallway until William stopped at a door and
knocked. A voice bid them to enter and William opened the door and
gestured for Alto to head in.

“Tristam, our young friend from Monterose has
come calling,” he said, announcing Alto with a grin.

“Is that right?” Tristam said, standing up
from the desk he was sitting behind. He walked around it, gesturing
for Alto to step into his office. Alto did so and Tristam reached
out to shake his hand. “Change your mind already, son?”

Alto nodded, embarrassed for some reason he
couldn’t name. “Yes, sir, I did.”

William chuckled and Tristam shook his head.
“No calling me sir, Alto. Either Tristam or, well, Tristam. I’m not
a noble and we’re not in an army.”

Alto nodded. “Okay…Tristam.”

“Much better!” he said, clapping him on the
shoulder. “You get your horse squared away? Where’s your sword and
armor?”

“I had to leave Sebas at the stables near the
gate,” Alto explained. He held up his arms and shrugged. “This is
all I own. The sword and leather were my father’s but I’ve got my
bow and a knife. I’ll work for anything I need. I don’t have any
money.”

Tristam nodded. “All right, you’re going to
be an investment then. You listen good when the training starts,
Alto; I’d not be happy having you killed off in your first fight
and proving me wrong about you being worth the risk and money.”

Alto blushed, embarrassed by his poverty.
He’d never felt that way before. Indeed, he’d always been proud of
what he and his family had. Now he realized that they were anything
but well off.

Alto nodded. “I’ll earn it,” he promised.

Tristam chuckled and clapped him again on the
shoulder. “That’s all I ask. Come on, let’s see what you can do and
get you squared away.”

Tristam led him out of the room and down the
hallway. William followed behind to watch. He led them down a
flight of stairs and into a cellar that had a higher ceiling and
plenty of open room for sparring. Targets were set up against a far
wall some thirty paces away for target practice. Racks of practice
weapons lined one wall. In the midst of the room, Drefan and Gerald
were sparring with practice swords.

They stopped when they saw the others arrive.
Wiping sweat from their brows, they racked their weapons and stood
back to watch. Tristam walked along the row of weapons and picked
out a longsword for himself and another for Alto. The lad accepted
it and then took the round wooden shield Tristam offered him.

Tristam lashed out, surprising Alto and
catching him along the thigh. Alto grimaced at the painful smack
and backed away. The onlookers chuckled, clearly unimpressed.
Tristam beckoned him forward with a grin. Alto had no idea what he
was doing; he was resolved to accept the beating like a man.

Alto was uncertain how to react as Tristam
scored several more painful stings. He’d sparred with Darren from
time to time but they had only been two kids playing with sticks.
Finally, angry at the slaps he was receiving from the dull metal
blade, he stopped focusing on defense and instead began to launch
his own clumsy attacks. Tristam blocked the first few and grunted
with exertion at each parry. Alto noticed when Tristam started
dodging his swings rather than blocking them.

The farm boy adapted quickly. He learned that
he did best when he didn’t invest all of his strength into a
felling blow that the more experienced warrior would slip away
from. Those were the most unguided and easiest for Tristam to
dodge, which brought a painful poke, slap, or cuff from the man.
The sword still felt awkward in his hand, and before long Tristam
called a halt and switched out weapons for the recruit, giving him
a thicker and heavier broadsword that lacked the greater length of
the longsword Tristam wielded.

Before they could start again, the door
opened and Kar and Karthor entered the room. Alto nodded to
Karthor, and wondered why Kar was grinning as he puffed on his
pipe.

“The broadsword is the weapon of violence,”
Kar said to him. “Few choose it, for it requires a strong arm and a
sturdy chest to wield properly. Most prefer a finer blade,
something more versatile, and something more able to be used to
hold an opponent out of reach.”

Alto nodded, understanding what the man said
simply from the way the first sword had felt to him. The broadsword
was heavier in his hand, and it felt more comfortable to him. He
felt the weight behind it and knew he could use it to his
advantage. Yet too much swinging of the heavy weapon would leave
him winded and his arm tired.

“Time enough for talk later. Alto, show me if
you’re the one in fifty men that can use a weapon like that,”
Tristam said.

Alto nodded and, taking a lesson from
Tristam, he launched an attack.

Tristam ducked and stumbled backwards, barely
avoiding the swing. He came up grinning, and stepped back into
range, shield raised and sword held at the ready. Alto drove a
couple of exploratory strikes at him, forcing Tristam to either
parry them or take them on his shield. The speed and strength of
Alto’s arm kept him on the defensive. He was able to launch an
occasional thrust or riposte, though only two connected with the
young man, and both were weak enough strikes that they would have
done no damage in a real fight.

“Stop holding back,” Kar said from the
side.

“I’m not!” Tristam said, breathing hard as he
continued to wait for Alto to tire from swinging the heavier sword.
Alto’s strength showed no signs of waning, much to Tristam’s
chagrin.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kar snapped.

Alto hesitated a moment at the wizard’s
advice, which cost him dearly. Tristam took advantage of the pause
and jabbed the blunted longsword into Alto’s ribs. Alto felt the
breath blasted from him and had to step back to block the next
thrust with his shield. Alto caught the next sweeping cut with his
sword, knocking Tristam’s blade out to the side.

Alto growled and pushed forward, hammering
his heavy blade into Tristam’s defenses. Tristam gave ground and
found his sword beaten down from every parry he tried. To give his
sword and arm a rest, he dropped his sword low and deflected a
thrust with his shield. Alto’s sword went wide, giving Tristam what
he thought was an opening since Alto’s shield was off to the
opposite side.

Tristam dropped low and thrust upwards in a
move that would leave Alto with a bruising injury that would damage
his pride as well as his flesh. Alto wasn’t nearly as defenseless
or witless as he’d led the more seasoned warrior to believe. The
farm boy’s foot lashed out, kicking the rising sword up and out of
Tristam’s hand. Tristam’s eyes widened first in shock, and then in
surprise as he saw Alto’s broadsword returning from where Tristam
had last sent it.

The veteran raised his shield to block and
cringed at the impact he predicted. Alto’s training sword crashed
into it so mightily that the shield broke and sent the older
warrior stumbling back onto the ground.

Alto pushed forward, stepping over him and
pointing his sword at him. Tristam cradled his arm that still had a
portion of the shield attached to it. He chuckled and held up his
empty sword arm. “I yield!”

He held out his hand, accepting defeat and
showing camaraderie. Alto breathed heavily for a moment to clear
the adrenaline from his mind and then tucked his training blade
under his right arm so he could help Tristam to his feet. Tristam
grimaced and held his arm once he was on his feet.

“Saints, boy, you’re strong, all right!” he
said. Turning to the others, who watched in shock, he said, “It
seems our young friend has managed to break not only my shield, but
also my arm! Karthor, care to have a look at it?”

Karthor hurried forward, his eyes on the
swelling at the midpoint of Tristam’s forearm. He grabbed his holy
symbol and began to invoke the power of Leander.

Kar walked forward and nodded respectfully at
Alto. “I thought so,” he muttered, and then blew out a puff of
smoke. “Never doubt yourself, my young friend. I see it in you; you
are the aggressor. Fate has something in mind for you. I don’t know
what it is but I can tell you this, the role of a defender is not
for you.”

Alto groaned when they passed the Foaming
Mug. The groan wasn’t from his sore muscles or the heavy load of
his pack that the others had weighed him down with in a hazing
tradition as old as the earliest groupings of men. He groaned
because the sight of the tavern reminded him of Aleena and her
invitation.

“Strength of an ox,” Drefan jibed.

“It’s not the load; I just remembered
something,” Alto said.

“You’ve been training, eating, or asleep the
last three days,” Tristam said with a laugh. “What could be so
important on the eve of your first adventure?”

Alto searched for an excuse, rather than
admit the truth. He was spared the decision when Aleena emerged
from the doors of the inn, broom in hand, and spied Alto walking
with the others. She waved and called out, “Hi, Alto!”

“Of course,” Tristam said with a grin. “A
girl. Mark my words, boy, women are the most dangerous of
foes!”

“And they offer the greatest rewards,” Drefan
added with a wry smile.

Alto waved back as subtly as he could, which
drew a round of chuckles from his new companions.

Aleena was far enough away to be spared the
verbal jabs the Blades levied on Alto. She watched them as they
walked and called out again, “Don’t forget to stop by!”

“I’ll make sure of it, my lady,” Tristam
called back to her. “It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed your
father’s hospitality; we’ll all come!”

In spite of the burning in his cheeks, Alto’s
lips stretched in a smile. They crossed the Sadani and left Aleena
and the Foaming Mug behind and then continued on to the eastern
gate of Portland.

They were bound to the northeast, north of
Alto’s family farm. The frequency of the goblin raids were
increasing. The short creatures had become bolder. Instead of
attacking undefended farms, they were waylaying travelers and
caravans.

Alto’s load lessened when they reached the
stables. The laden pack was distributed amongst the mounts. Sebas
was the son of Gemini, a stout plow horse, and one of the two draft
mares his father used to pull the wagons. He had size and strength
to spare, but his training had never included the leather flaps he
now wore as barding.

Alto was trying to grow accustomed to the
soft leather tunic and leggings he wore that fit tightly against
him. The others wore chain shirts and greaves under their tabards,
but none had fit Alto. Tristam promised him his own suit of chain
if he survived his first adventure.

“Now where’s that fool wizard?” Tristam
muttered as they readied their mounts.

“The fool wizard’s behind you,” Kar said,
startling them all. “Who’s the fool now?”

Tristam ignored him. “Did you secure the
contracts?”

“Would I be here otherwise?” Kar asked. He
shook his head while grabbing his own steed, a gray stallion that
looked too small to hold Alto, let alone a man in armor. Kar led
his horse beside Alto and climbed into the saddle. He’d left the
trademark robes advertising his profession behind and wore simple
breeches and a loose shirt.

“Let’s be off then. We’ve a couple days
travel,” Tristam said. He led the procession through the gates and
down the busy road.

Alto stared at the signposts at the first
junction, noting the arrows and the numbers, but uncertain of the
words. He tried to remember the letters but soon gave up.

“Seems you could use tutoring with more than
just a blade,” Kar commented beside him.

Alto jerked his head to look at the wizard
and saw an easy smile on his bearded face. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t read,” Kar stated. “You’re smart
enough to know if the fight against Tristam had been real, you’d
have been put down long before you knocked him on his arse. That
means you’re smart enough to learn letters and numbers.”

“My father taught them to me,” Alto said in
defense. Tristam had yielded but it had been with training weapons.
Had real blades been used, Alto would have bled out and unable to
move from the critical cuts Tristam had landed.

“A good man, your father,” Kar offered.

Alto nodded. They lapsed into silence until
Alto admitted, “It was years ago and I’ve forgotten much of what he
learned me.”

“You’ll go far, boy, if you can remember to
keep the pointy end away from you,” Kar offered with a smile. The
wizard pulled out his pipe and added a pinch of tobacco to it
before igniting it with a jet of flame from his thumb.

“Father, what sage advice are you offering
now?” Karthor asked as he slowed his own horse from where’d he’d
been riding nearer the front of their small party.

Kar harrumphed. “The only pointy ends you’re
likely to learn about are the ones the priests offer you!”