The Cavalier (24 page)

Torgan would have had him if Jonas hadn’t reacted on instinct alone. He remembered the move Allindrian had taught him, flipping his wooden sword to his left hand and pivoting his left leg away from Torgan’s strike. Jonas was ambidextrous and he could use his left arm as well as his right.

Torgan’s blade found only air as Jonas’s wooden sword struck him hard in the side. Torgan stumbled forward, but regained his balance quickly, glaring at Jonas with hatred. He launched a ferocious attack, swinging his wooden sword with all his strength. He was angry, which gave Jonas the advantage. He was able to calmly apply basic defensive moves to counter the ferocious attacks.

Jonas waited for Torgan to tire before striking offensively again. Torgan lunged with his sword right at Jonas’s abdomen. He was tired and his strike was clumsy. Jonas sidestepped the blade, using his left leg to trip Torgan, who was already off balance, while simultaneously bringing his wooden sword down hard on Torgan’s back. Torgan, stumbling, hit the ground with a thud.

Torgan slowly stood, glaring at Jonas with insurmountable fury. Jonas barely had time to react as Torgan, dropping his sword, tackled him. Torgan’s body barreled into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as they both landed on the ground. Jonas got his hands up to his face to protect it from the strikes that he was sure were coming.

Torgan’s fists beat down on him repeatedly, but they could not break through Jonas’s defenses. Jonas had learned from Master Morgan that if you get into a hand to hand fight, and end up on the ground, that you want to reduce the distance between you and your opponent. It will minimize the damage that they can do to you.

So Jonas, in a brief lull between Torgan’s strikes at his face, quickly reached up, wrapped his arms around Torgan’s neck, and pulled his head down hard towards him, forcing their bodies together and making Torgan’s fists useless. Then Jonas pivoted, arched his neck, and used the ground as leverage to twist their bodies so he was now on top of Torgan. Immediately Jonas let go, leaping away from the enraged boy. By this time a crowd of apprentices had formed and Master Morgan had just made his way toward them.

“You dirty peasant!
 
You don’t even deserve to have the chance to fight me!” Torgan screamed, charging a second time.

Master Morgan moved in a blur, striking Torgan hard in the shins with his wooden practice sword. Torgan, bellowing in pain, tripped face first onto the grass, holding his bruised and bleeding shins.

“What are you doing, Torgan?” Morgan raged. “You are acting beneath your station. You are all apprentices to be knights of Finarth!” Morgan raised his voice as he addressed the group. “Someday you may be fighting next to each other, your swords protecting one another! How can you trust each other if you behave like this?”

“I’m sorry, Master Morgan, I did not mean for it to happen. It will not happen again,” replied Jonas calmly.

Torgan got up slowly, his anger still apparent as he glared at Jonas with open hatred.

“What happened?” demanded Master Morgan.

“It was both our faults, sir. He scored the first hit and then I scored the last. Our competitive spirit and equal skill fueled our anger and we lost control. I will try to control my anger next time, sir. I apologize,” Jonas said in an attempt to cover for Torgan, hoping that that kindness might reduce Torgan’s animosity towards him.

“Is this correct, Torgan?” asked Master Morgan.

Torgan eyed Jonas with barely concealed malice. “Yes, sir, that is correct. I am sorry, Master Morgan, for letting my anger control me.”

“Good,” Mater Morgan said as he turned to the entire group. “Now since you all seem to have so much energy, give me twenty circuits around the track.”

Nobody complained or said a word. They dropped their sticks and began jogging to the track, the hot midday sun baking their sweaty bodies as they ran.

Jonas stayed back behind Torgan not wanting to be anywhere near the angry apprentice. He could sense the volatile emotions flow from him like giant waves in an ocean’s storm.

Calden, his team leader, jogged up next to him. “It is not wise to make an enemy of the most powerful apprentice here, and heir to the Finarthian throne”.

Jonas let out a frustrated sigh. “I did nothing but fight back, and I even covered for him,” Jonas said, exasperated.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have fought so well,” Calden reasoned as they continued around the track.

“Let him win!” Jonas exclaimed in a tone that could not hide his disgust.

Calden raised an eyebrow. “Maybe…I worry for you, Jonas. You do not want an enemy in the likes of him.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re right, but sometimes that is not enough,” Calden replied.

Jonas, shaking his head in frustration, continued around the track in silence.

Six 
Darkness Comes

The Greever lifted its bony head from the winged beast on which it was feeding. Its nostrils flared, sniffing the air of his domain, the domain in of which he was the master, the killer that lived to hunt. As its bloody jaws tore rhythmically at the bone and flesh, the demon felt the distant tug of its master’s call, a call not heard in ages.

The Greever stretched its nine foot frame to its full height, its long muscular arms held wide, sniffing the air again, feeling the invisible tug of his master’s summons, eager for the blood that was soon to follow. The Greever was the ultimate killer, built solely for destruction. It resembled a man, but was much taller and more heavily muscled. Long sinewy arms hung down to its knobby knees. Its powerful legs were shaped like a goat, but instead of dainty hooves, long clawed toes like a dragon bore its solid weight. The Greever’s thick leather-like skin was gray and cold to the touch. Its body was completely hairless, except for the thick patch of black hair that covered part of its dog-like head and muscular neck. Sharp bony spikes were imbedded at the back of the demon’s elbows, the front of its knees, and the top of its shoulders and head, all of which it could use with flesh tearing devastation. Its red, deep set eyes glowed atop a thick snout above powerful jaws filled with teeth strong enough to break steel. The beast’s hands and feet were long and clawed with wicked talons, each the length of a dagger. Tucked into crevices on its back were long leathery wings, capable of carrying the demon long distances. For the Greever did not tire, did not relent from any hunt. At the end of each wing was a long sharp spike that it could wield as a deadly weapon. Everything on the demon was formidable, including its tail, which was as thick as a man’s arm and ended in a heavy sphere covered with poisoned spikes. Endowed with lightning speed and power, it could also hunt as quietly as a cat.

The familiar fog began to swirl before it, and the beast entered the mist, eager to be sent to another world, to serve its master, because its master always provided him sustenance, and the Greever was hungry for new flesh.

***

That night Jonas, Fil, Calden, and Bornius, another boy from the blue team, were sitting on their beds quietly discussing Jonas’s fight with Torgan. The black team was on the far side of the barracks and they couldn’t possibly hear their conversation.

“I fear you’ve made a powerful enemy, Jonas,” commented Bornius as he changed into his sleeping shirt. Bornius was the son of a farmer and Fil and Jonas liked him immediately. He was a hard worker, kind, and looked to help others before he helped himself.

“Jonas didn’t
make
anything. Torgan has had it out for him since he came here a year ago. It doesn’t matter what he does, Torgan has made up his mind he hates him,” Fil said, sitting on the edge of the bed above Jonas.

“I’ve tried to befriend him, and even today I covered for him, but it matters not; we commoners will always be scum to him,” Jonas said.

“I don’t understand how the king, or the other commanders, would promote Torgan to a position of power with such prejudices. How can he be a leader if he can’t inspire all his troops, not just the highborn?” asked Fil.

“A lot of the highborn believe the same way he does,” said Calden.

“I don’t believe the king agrees. He didn’t seem that type to me,” replied Jonas.

“You’ve met the king?” asked Bornius incredulously.

Jonas looked up at Fil, forgetting that these boys, their new friends, didn’t know anything about their story or how they were sponsored. They never asked so it never came up, and Jonas worked hard to cover his God Mark, which was almost an impossible task, but so far he had been successful in the deception. Master Morgan was privy to Jonas’s mark and he helped him in keeping it hidden. When it came to bathing, Morgan would provide time where Jonas could be alone.

“Yes, Fil and I met King Gavinsteal over a year ago.
 
We were both sponsored by Master Landon, a well-known merchant from Tarsis. Master Landon is a good friend to the king. He brings him dwarven weapons and armor to outfit his knights,” said Jonas.

“How did you meet this Master Landon?” asked Calden.

Jonas looked up again; shrugging his shoulders, Fil gave him a
go ahead
expression. So Jonas told them their abridged story. He left out information about his mark and the battle they had on the road, but he told them about the destruction of their town and their meeting with Airos.

“I can’t believe you met a cavalier. What was he like?” asked Bornius.

“Kind and generous,” said Jonas.

“And someone to see in a fight. He was an incredible fighter, and he was inspiring. He made everyone feel like they could win. I’ve never felt like that before,” said Fil.

“Yes, I’ve heard that cavaliers have the power to inspire courage and push back fear. I’ve heard Airos was one of the best. I would love to have met him. It saddens me he was killed. And what is a Banthra? I have never heard of one,” asked Bornius.

“I’m not sure exactly,” responded Fil. “I think it is some sort of demon brought here by Malbeck, a minion of the Forsworn I think, but I never saw it.”

All the boys except Fil and Jonas tapped their chests in the four pointed star at the mention of the dark gods.

There was a stir by the entrance and the apprentices that were in the barracks quickly shuffled to attention. Jonas, looking towards the door, saw Prince Nelstrom briskly moving towards them. He wore a glossy black leather breastplate with the Finarthian symbol embossed on it. The prince’s breaches were made from supple black leather and a flowing silk cape hung from his strong shoulders. He wore knee high leather boots polished to a glossy black. His dark hair was cut short and his beard was trimmed to a point, giving his face an angular, strong look.

The apprentices near the prince all bowed as he walked with long strides towards Jonas and his friends. Fil jumped down from the bunk and the other boys got to their feet standing at attention, bowing slightly as the prince moved directly to Jonas.

“Leave us,” the prince said curtly, staring directly at Jonas.

Fil, Calden, and Bornius quickly walked away toward the other apprentices who were watching intently at a distance.

“Good day, Prince Nelstrom. It is good to see you,” Jonas said, matching his stare.

The prince ignored his comment, looking him up and down. His blue eyes were piercing and shone with malice. “I heard what you did to my son,” the prince whispered, his voice laced with venom.

“I did nothing, he attacked me…”

“Do not address me unless I ask you to. You are nothing to me, a low commoner who has gotten lucky. Who are you to even consider crossing blades with my son? He is in line to be the king of Finarth and you are likely a bastard son of some common bar whore,” the prince continued angrily.

Jonas’s eyes blazed with anger and his muscles tensed. A part of him wanted to punch the prince in the stomach.

“What’s wrong, boy? Are you angry? Did my words offend you?”

Jonas, controlling his emotions, replied evenly. “No, sir, they did not.”

The prince smiled wickedly. “Stay out of my son’s way. Do you hear me? Don’t ever insult him or make him look foolish again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jonas, his eyes holding the prince’s gaze.

“I see you’ve grown in confidence this last year. That is good. Maybe, in several years, you and I could cross blades. Do you think you could beat me?” the prince asked with an amusing smile.

“No, sir, I do not,” replied Jonas evenly.

“Good. At least you’re not as stupid as most of your lice ridden kind.” Their eyes locked again; the prince turned on his heels and strode briskly from the room.

Jonas let out a deep breath and sat down on the bed. Fil, Calden, and Bornius moved back to Jonas quickly, eager to find out what had transpired between him and the prince.

Fil sat down next to Jonas. “A private conversation with the prince; if only I was that lucky,” Fil said, smiling.

“What did he say?” Calden asked with interest.

“I think I’ve made an enemy of the prince and his son. He told me to stay away from Torgan and to never make him look bad again.”

“What! Torgan attacked
you
and you did all you could not to fight,” exclaimed Bornius.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me. I will just have to watch myself and make sure that I don’t put myself in a position that might create tension between us,” replied Jonas.