Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (18 page)

The group arrived at the docks before any of the nobles.
Rezkin made arrangements with the captain to take on the mage and striker. No
more passenger cabins were available, so the men would either have to share
with the crew or extra beds would have to be squeezed into the berths the
passengers already shared. The men opted for the latter. When Tieran, the
Jebais, and Brandt arrived, they were astonished to find out that Kai was
actually a striker. Palis immediately insisted the man share the room with him
and Brandt, no doubt in hopes of pelting the older man with questions.
Surprisingly, Tieran offered to share with Wesson. He was still utterly impressed
that Rezkin had procured a battle mage for himself. It turned out that the
duke’s son had a secret fascination with battle magic.

Sadly, Wesson had to sell his donkey, Shiela, back in the
town. Despite the healing, the donkey was nearing the end of her days and could
no longer carry the weight of the mage’s packs for long distances. The
journeyman had known the time was coming, but he had not had the funds to
procure a new beast. Now that the group was traveling by ship, he would not
need a new pack animal for some time. Thanks to Rezkin, he had the money to
purchase one when needed.

The final passengers to arrive were the baron and his son,
along with their guards. Their berths had already been reserved, so no extra
accommodations were necessary. The baron was more forthright than most nobles
Rezkin had met and did not seem to care much for all the pomp. Being of the
lowest landed nobility, though, the baron’s concern for the opinions of his
superiors was evident in his demeanor. Even though the young people aboard were
merely the heirs and not the heads, he had to consider the fact that they would
eventually
become the heads of their Houses, if not in his lifetime then
in his son’s.

Waylen Nasque was unobtrusive and alert. He stood back and
observed everything around him with childlike intrigue but said little. When
someone did speak to him, he turned almost bashful, and his answers were quiet
and reserved. In truth, these were probably the most affluent individuals the
seventeen-year-old had ever encountered. He stared openly as if he expected no
one to notice, and perhaps few people
did
take note of him with his
quiet demeanor. He at least made an effort, though, to conceal his admiring
glances toward the women.

Every expression could be easily read on the young man’s
innocent face. His eyes glinted with admiration for the higher-ranking young
men, his face blushed with appreciation and embarrassment toward the women, and
he was utterly fascinated by the striker and mage. When Waylen looked at
Rezkin, though, his face was filled with a mixture of approval, respect, fear
and confusion. Rezkin could tell that the young man filled his time with
observing, categorizing, and interpreting, and Waylen simply could not
determine how Rezkin fit into the hierarchy.

It was not long before the ship shoved off, the crew having
been ready since before the sun breached the horizon. Rezkin checked that Pride
was doing well in his stall. The stallion had not been excited to return to the
ship, and he made his displeasure known. Malcius, Palis, Tieran and Brandt were
already bored and looking for entertainment, so they had accompanied the
warrior. They were discussing whatever they thought they knew about horses and
battle chargers amongst themselves. Kai stepped in and observed the horse with
a critical eye.

“He surely is a magnificent beast,” the striker remarked. “I
suppose I should not have been surprised to discover that
you
, of all
people, are in possession of an Augmerian battle charger. It is fitting, you
know,” Kai mused with vaguely concealed innuendo.

Malcius perked up at Kai’s comment. “You mean it is true? It
is actually an Augmerian?”

Rezkin frowned. “You doubted me?”

“Well, no, of course not,” Malcius backpedaled. “I mean, how
could you tell?”

“Oh, there are many signs to tell. For one, his overall size
and perfect proportions are good indicators, but they are not conclusive. The
most apparent and accepted validations are the color and the mark. First, this
beast is pure black from head to tail. Only the Augmerian line breeds true.
Second, if you dared to get close enough, you would see a mage mark on the
inside of the left ear. It serves as proof of the horse’s pedigree and
describes the lineage.” Making sure the beast knew who was master, Kai stepped
closer and peered at the mage mark. “It appears this one’s sire was none other
than King Bordran’s mount, Scourge.”

Malcius’s jaw dropped as he protested, “Should he not, then,
belong to the king?”

“The horse belongs to
me
,” Rezkin asserted with a
firm look that said he would brook no argument.

The young noble’s mouth worked silently before his words
caught up with him. “O-Of course, Rez. I know. I am just saying it is amazing,
that is all.” Rezkin nodded once and turned back to brushing the sleek black
coat.

“If it was the only boon Bordran gifted him, I would be more
impressed; but as it is, I suppose it just seems fitting,” Kai responded with a
grin. “It certainly supports my position, though.

“What do you mean? There is more?” Malcius asked. “And, what
position?”

“Kai, you overstep,” Rezkin grumbled as he finished brushing
down the stallion.

Kai took a stop back and bowed deeply. “My apologies, my…
lord
,”
he mumbled without a hint of chagrin. Four pairs of startled eyes darted back and
forth between the striker and the unusual lord. It was nearly unheard of to see
a striker show such deference to anyone but the king.

Rezkin tossed the brush into a bucket of supplies and turned
to the four lordlings that had gathered to watch. “Should you not all be
practicing for the tournament?

“Of course we will practice, but we have two more weeks
travel by ship with nothing else to keep us entertained. There is time,”
remarked Brandt plaintively. The young man seemed less inclined to practice and
more interested in finding trouble. “Now, if we had a couple of those tavern
wenches from last night aboard,
that
would make for an interesting
voyage,” he said with a smirk.

“If you focused and spent the entire two weeks practicing,
you might have a chance at winning one of those prizes,” Rezkin countered.

“You are competing, also. Why do you not practice with us?”
Palis inquired curiously. “All of the time you have been on the quarter deck
has been spent on instruction.”

“Rezkin rises at an ungodly hour. I assume he spends it in
practice,” Malcius grumbled. “I happen to remember you saying that you did not
care for mornings,” he remarked to the warrior.

“Caring for them has little to do with existing in them,”
Rezkin muttered as he left the stall. In truth, he enjoyed his peaceful
mornings. It was a time of solitude without pretense. Contrary to what Malcius
believed, he did not spend his time practicing his dueling
Skills
. He
spent his time practicing more intricate and complex
Skills
such as
close quarters combat, stealth, and intelligence gathering; and he even used
ropes and steel clamps to run laps around the outer hull of the ship on a few
occasions. The true measure of his
Skills
came with his ability to carry
out his practices without being observed. On a ship such as this, there were
always people awake and on duty. People were inside, outside, and high above
the ship in the masts and rigging. When being observed was absolutely
unavoidable, he was challenged with making it appear that his activities were
mundane and uninteresting.

Kai looked at his liege askance. “You are competing in the
tournament?
Why
?” he asked with undisguised disdain. The striker could
not image why a Sword Bearer would bother with such frivolity. Besides, Rezkin
had always seemed more of the practical sort of warrior who scorned fame and
public displays.

“We all have our reasons. In fact, I think you and I will be
discussing them at length,” Rezkin said with a broad, amicable smile that may
have passed for affable on any other face. Kai knew a bit more about the man he
called
king
, and even that was lacking. He knew nothing about the man’s
background and little of his skill, although he assumed it was formidable. To
him, Rezkin’s smile was anything but disarming.

“Come, Rez,” Malcius interjected. “We shall entertain
ourselves on the quarterdeck for a bit of exercise before the midday break.
Perhaps you can show us some other skill or form from your histories. Might
even the great striker grace us with a demonstration?” Malcius queried.

Kai grinned and spoke boisterously, “I might have a dance or
two you have yet to see, young lord. Lord Rezkin, perhaps the two of us could
show these young prodigies a thing or two.”

Tieran furrowed his brow in confusion. “Is he really so
skilled?” he inquired.

Rezkin gave Kai a dark look that did not go missed by Palis.
A sneaking suspicion began to creep up on the young swordsman, but he said
nothing.

Kai’s face turned solemn at Rezkin’s disapproval. “I only
meant that he is a dual sword wielder, that is all. It is probably safe to
assume that none of you have trained to fight against such a swordsman.”

Malcius nodded and said, “That is true. Even in our practice
sessions, he has only ever wielded one blade.”

“And it is just as well,” Kai remarked. “It takes a
different set of forms to defend against an attacker wielding more than one
weapon. It can be damn near impossible to get in a strike against a skilled
opponent. I would not suggest going into such a fight without a second weapon
or shield.”

“Are you a dual sword wielder, as well?” asked Palis.

“Me? No, that is not a skill I mastered, although it is not
unusual to carry a dagger in the offhand if up against more than one opponent.
I actually prefer a two-handed sword. Dual wielding requires the swordsman to
be quick and efficient.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and continued, “I am
quick enough to be a striker, but I actually prefer a brute force method. I
carry the longsword, as do all strikers, but in battle, I would choose a great
sword as my primary weapon, if possible.”

“You certainly have the build for it,” Brandt observed.

“So does Rezkin, for that matter,” Palis remarked.

Curious eyes slid over the two warriors as the lords noted
the similarities in build and carriage. Rezkin was, of course, younger, and he
was a bit taller and had slightly broader shoulders and a longer reach, but
there was no mistaking the resemblance now that the two stood side-by-side. No
manner of court finery could hide the build that was more similar to the elite warrior’s
than it was any of the young lords’ physiques, despite their level of fitness
and martial prowess.

“I, for one, shall enjoy watching Rezkin apply his
double-blade techniques,” Palis remarked.

Rezkin was irritated with Kai’s needling. The man was no
idiot. He knew what he was doing when he laid his less-than-subtle hints. The
striker was undermining the air of pompous nobility Rezkin was attempting to
don. Rezkin wanted the lords to believe him just skilled enough to be dangerous
but not so skilled as to be anything other than a privileged lord. He was going
to have to have a talk with the man, and if the talk did not go his way, then
he would have to visit more extreme measures. He had no desire to exterminate
his own liegeman, but he had not asked for the man’s fealty, and the manner in
which the man was operating was anything but subservient.

“Have you combatted with the dual sword forms before? The
way you spoke previously made it sound more like it was a technical, scholarly
endeavor. I had thought you an artist of sorts, rather than a combatant,”
Tieran mused, feeling a precipitous return of his earlier misgivings concerning
the curious lord.

Rezkin spied Captain Jimson not far away. He gave a subtle
nod to summon the soldier as his alter ego made an abrupt appearance. The
Lord
Rezkin piped up cheerfully, “I have had my share of opponents, I suppose, but I
can only hope the striker goes easy on me. It would be cruel for him to whip me
so soundly in front of such an illustrious audience.”

Malcius smiled graciously, “I cannot say I would have such
fortitude in your stead.”

Barking a laugh, Kai replied, “Oh, you will have your
chance, Lord Malcius. If you wish to fight in that tournament, then I intend to
make you work for it. No companion of mine will go in unprepared.”

The Jebai heir screwed up his face in feigned irritation,
“Now, that does sound ominous, indeed.”

The troop of lords, the striker, and Captain Jimson arrived
on the quarterdeck, and the lords discarded their doublets to stay cool and allow
for more freedom of movement. Rezkin hated wearing the doublet at all, and it
was utterly absurd in the heat of the summer. Such impractical clothing was
expected of a young lord, and he was only thankful that he was not expected to
don the fanciful frills, lace, and leggings with the dainty shoes so many of
the courtiers were flaunting.

Waylen, seeing the parade of lords, decided to follow along
at a slight distance. The lords and Jimson gathered in a wide circle around the
perimeter, while Rezkin and Kai faced off in the center. Kai slid his blade
from the scabbard and waited for Rezkin to do the same. He wore a wicked smile
that dared Rezkin to back out or draw the Sheyalins. Rezkin shifted with
obvious discomfort as he noticeably eyed Kai’s blade.

“Will you not draw your blades, Lord Rezkin?” Kai pressed.

“I am loath to draw these swords against the quality of your
own master blade that is unique to the strikers. I would not wish for a blade
to break,” Rezkin remarked with feigned embarrassment. He allowed the others to
believe he was concerned for the welfare of his own swords, when it was more
likely the striker’s blade would be doomed.