The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch) (3 page)

Kreg's world spun about him once more.  He had seen magic tricks before but no one had ever done anything like that.  The light was not fire, nor was it a glowing object.  It was simply light, a ball of blue light.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," he murmured.

He fought down an urge to babble.  Magic.  There really was magic here.  Either everything he knew about reality was wrong or he was not just on a different world but in a different reality.

Shillond stared into Kreg's eyes for a moment, his gaze forming a bastion to which Kreg clung while his world reoriented itself.

"It is late," Shillond said. "Might I suggest that a meal and drinks would be in order?"

"Aye," Kaila said. "Roast venison would suit me well, if they have it in this place."

Kreg had almost forgotten that he was hungry but Shillond's suggestion made his stomach rumble.  He nodded and licked his lips.

"The fare in the common room," Shillond said, "although not up to the standards of Aerioch, shall suffice I think.  And we will not have to brave the storm." He opened the door and motioned the two others to precede him. "Shall we go?"

#

Smoke hung heavily in the crowded room.  In one corner, men threw knives at a target stuffed with straw.  A shout rose in another corner as a rotund man won an arm wrestling match against a somewhat slighter opponent.  The loser groaned and money changed hands as the winners of bets collected.  Beside the large fireplace a minstrel wailed a ballad, badly off-key.  About half the patrons of the tavern wore rain-soaked clothes and water ran in tiny rivulets down their faces.  The sound of the rain was more muted here than in the rooms above.

Kaila led Kreg and Shillond to the only unoccupied table in the room.  The crowd swirled around them but always left a gap before them, more, Kreg suspected, in deference to the way Kreg and Kaila towered over them than from any notion of courtesy.

"These places always like this?" Kreg sidestepped a stumbling drunk and sat.

"Aye." Kaila said then looked over her shoulder. "'Twould please me mightily an' yon bard be silent.  I am near of a mind to clout him aside the head an' he continue."

Shillond sighed as he sat. “The people carouse, I think, to forget that their city is dying.”

A barmaid dodged a groping hand and arrived at their table. "May I help you, Lords and Lady?"

"Roast venison and a tankard of ale!" Kaila slapped her palm on the table, causing its legs to bounce off the floor.

"Whatever is by the board and a flask of wine," Shillond said.

"Aye, Lord." She turned to Kreg. "And you, my lord?"

"Uh." Kreg hesitated for a moment, uncertain what to say, and then decided to follow Kaila's lead in choice of food. He did not know what Shillond’s “by the board” meant. "Roast venison, I guess.  Uh, what do you have to drink?"

He looked at his companions for assistance.  Kaila bit back a laugh.  Shillond raised his eyebrows, the twinkle in his eyes brightening, but he offered no advice.

"Why, sir." The barmaid sounded as confused as Kreg felt. "We are as well stocked as any tavern in the city."

Kreg groaned.  He sighed and tried again. "I am a stranger here.  Could you be more specific?"

The barmaid's face lit with understanding. "Oh?  Does the Lord wish companionship?  For three rabeni, and one for the innkeep, I could...."

Kreg raised his hands in warding. "No, no.  That's fine."

Kaila could no longer restrain her laughter although she tried.  Tears rolled down her cheeks as she half-choked with the effort.

"Well, my Lord." The barmaid frowned for a moment. "I am sure you would find me more pleasant than this boy thing." A flip of her hand dismissed Kaila. "Send her, it, on its way and let me be your companion instead."

Kaila's laughter vanished.

Shillond broke in. "My friend will have wine."

A fresh look of understanding crossed the barmaid's face. "Oh?  Is that the way of it?  My pardon, Lord, if I intruded.  I shall see to your food and drinks."

As the barmaid scurried away, Kaila started to rise.  Shillond laid the tip of a finger on the back of one of her hands. "Kaila, no."

Kaila sighed and sat. "Aye, Father. She is what this foul city has made her.  The insult from such a one is not worth the back of my hand, let alone the staining of my blade."

Kreg looked from Kaila to Shillond, then back again.  Something had happened that he had missed. "How much did I just spend?" he asked to change the subject.

"About a raben," Kaila said.

"Which is?"

"The pouch from the briganti?" Kaila held out her hand.

"Yes." He produced the item and handed it to her.

"This--" She held up a silver coin about the size of the dimes he knew, "--be a raben." She shorted. "Yon wench's price was high.  She asked for rabeni where ve'ib would suffice.  One raben be equal to five less than a score of copper ve'ib and eight rabeni be equal to a gold norben.  Understand you this?"

Kreg considered for a moment.

"Fifteen ve'ib to the raben.  Eight rabeni to the norben." He nodded. "Got it but..."

Shillond leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. "I think you had best remain with us until you learn how to fend for yourself."

Kreg agreed wholeheartedly, more than happy to remain with anyone who could help him learn his way around.  With every passing moment, he regretted more leaving the nomads.  Would living the rest of his life as a desert nomad have been so bad?

"We will remain in Trevanta just a few more days before we return to Aerioch." Shillond's face took on a thoughtful expression for a moment. "I have a feeling there is more to you than anyone may guess.  You have an aura that...." He shook his head. ”Well, no matter.  We will discuss this later.  We have more immediate concerns."

"Aye," Kaila said. "'Tis needful to instruct you in some manner of weapon's work. Your skill unarmed was good enough against unskilled bravos such as the briganti.  Nor like I the sword you took.  Such a light weapon would be all but useless against a good broadsword, or a mace, or an axe, or....

"I'm sure he understands, Kaila." With a sigh, Shillond waved her to silence. "You may go tomorrow to buy a good weapon and I can leave his training in that to your capable hands."

Shillond looked at Kreg,

then cast his eyes upward.  Kreg was beginning to get the picture.  Kaila seemed to think that a strong sword arm was the answer to any problem.  She reminded him of Billy, the man who watched the shop where Kreg had worked--good-natured, but blunt.  Billy had seemed to think that the answer to most problems was to pound on them until they stopped being problems and Kreg suspected that Kaila felt much the same way.

"Look," he said. "Teaching me to fight is all well and good, but there is more to living than that.  You saw how helpless I was in so simple an act as ordering a meal." He scowled at Kaila, attempting to look fierce, but Kaila's impish grin told him that he had not succeeded. "Things you learned as children, I have never experienced.  For instance, if magic works here--and thanks to your demonstration, Shillond, I have to accept that it does--well, it doesn't back home."

"Absurd!" Kaila burst out. "Such things are of minor consequence.  A good sword arm will see you through all matters of import."

Shillond pretended that she had not spoken. "Perhaps we should see about finding a way to return you to your own world as quick as may be.  Your background may cause you problems here."

Kreg shook his head. "I wouldn't even know where to begin," he said. "Would you?"

Shillond sighed and shook his head.

Kreg sighed. "Then I guess I'm stuck here...for a while anyway."

"Our food comes," Kaila said.

CHAPTER TWO

Late the next morning Kaila hid a smile as Kreg tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the way aches pulled at his body.  He had slept the night bunking on a pallet of folded blankets in the room she shared with Shillond.  He was still wearing the light cloak of a style favored by the desert nomads.  Knowing how the local people felt about the nomads, Kaila thought that Kreg would find the cloak a burden in more ways than one.

"'Twould be best if I did the bargaining," She told Kreg. "Just watch and learn."

"As you say," he said.

Trevanta by day was a far different place from Trevanta by night.  Hawkers, selling from wagons, lined the streets, extolling the virtues of their various wares.  Crowds surged through the streets, passing in and out of various shops that claimed to sell a plethora of goods.  Wagons and carts bounced over the deeply rutted, muddy streets, splashing mud and slop on anyone too slow to get out of the way.  Hogs wandered freely, set loose to eat the garbage dumped into the streets.

On closer look, however, the wares hawked from wagons were spare indeed, with more space than goods on the racks.  The crowds too, were thin, only seeming thick in their frantic energy.

Shillond had been right.  The city was dying and only pretending to health.  Few of the ships, which had been the life-blood of Trevanta, docked here anymore.  Trevanta was yet one more casualty in the collapse of the Empire.  Had old King Cael been right, she wondered, to venture down the path of independence from Shend?  Much evil seemed to have sprung from it.  And yet... She sighed.  Such matters were beyond her.

Sometime during the night the storm had spent its fury.  Now the sky was clear, with only an occasional wad of cloud to mar its deep blue.  Yet, even after the cleansing rain, the city stank of waste, filth, and decay.  Kaila longed to be back in Norveth, the capital of Aerioch, with its cool breezes and streets not so choked in filth.

"First, a stout sword is needful," Kaila said, turning back to Kreg. "When I did examine the briganti’s sword, I found it too slender for serious combat.  A pretty toy, fit only for petty duels or for frightening townsmen.  We must obtain training swords as well for 'twould please me not to carve you up in practice."

"No," Kreg said. "I don't think I'd enjoy it much either."

Kaila laughed and clouted him on the shoulder. "'Tis but the truth, I warrant.”

Although she had masked her strike as a friendly clout, she tested Kreg as well.  Despite his height, his slim form bore little muscle.  Yet she had found that what muscle he had was hard and well-toned, and his slim frame was stronger than it seemed.  Strength he would need, for she had seen that he had little of the skills that served a man well in the world.  Untutored he was and innocent as a babe.

But had not Shillond once said that knowing one's ignorance was the greatest wisdom?  If true, then she suspected that Kreg was wise indeed.  Although Kreg had strange humor, several of her former squires could have learned much from Kreg's willingness to listen and to assay.

“Ah, but what do I espy?” Kaila said after a moment. “If yon sign speaks sooth, we approach Trevanta's master weaponsmith."

"Then let us enter," Kreg bowed, sweeping one arm to invite Kaila to precede him.  Kaila stepped through the shop's doorway with a quick glance over her shoulder to see that Kreg followed her.

"Pay heed and act as I do," She whispered over her shoulder.

She leaned forward to peer at the swords that dangled in racks along one of the walls.  A collection of spears, swords, and axes festooned the other wall but these Kaila ignored.  She slid one, the best of a poor lot, free from the rack and held it before her eyes. "These are truly poor blades," she said. "It warrants me that these all are apprentice work.  Behold the looseness of the joining between blade and hilts.  Note the quality of the wire wrapping of the grip.  I find it appalling that such should be displayed for sale." She handed the sword to Kreg.

"Oh, I agree," Kreg said, although his voice sounded none too certain.  In this sword, wood peeked through gaps in the wire wrapping of the grip. "You only need to look at them to see."

"May I be of service, Lord and Lady?" A man approached them.  The top of his head just came up to Kreg's armpit.  The man bowed and waited, wiping his hands on his knee length, black leather apron.  Muscle bulged under his tunic, his right arm thicker than his left. Dozens of small, puckered scars dotted his arms.  His proportions, his clothing, the scars, all cried out "Smith" to Kaila's eyes.

Kaila ignored the man for some seconds, while Kreg shuffled his feet nervously.

"Mayhap," Kaila said with a slight lifting of her shoulders, "if you have better than these to offer." She waved at the rack of swords. "It may be that we can make do."

"Certes, I have wares which may please such a fabulous warrior as you no doubt are." The smith bowed. "You are obviously a person of much discernment to note that these blades are of inferior make." He bowed again. "If you will be patient for the nonce--" Bow. "--I shall display for you the master's own work." Bow.

The master's own work, Kaila thought, meaning his own work, no doubt.

"As you will." Again, Kaila lifted her shoulders a bare finger width, then let them drop. "As I am here already, 'tis as well I see what you have, though it be little enough.  Bring these swords."

"At once, Illustrious Madam." The man bowed yet again and backed out through a door leading into the rear of the smithy, still bowing.

"Do always remember," Kaila whispered to Kreg as the door swung shut on leather hinges. "A master will oft display goods of inferior make, apprentice work or his own failures, and then deal evilly with any possessing not the wit to know the difference.  But be wary.  As like for pieces of true merit to be concealed among the poor as a test of ones discernment.  Here there are none such."

"So that was all true?"

"Aye.  Save that yon smith was likely the master himself."

He started to ask another question but Kaila raised a hand to warn him to silence.  The smith had returned.

"Do examine these, Madam," the man said. "Mayhap you will find what you seek among them."

"An' they are better than those I have already seen, then mayhap."

Kaila suppressed an inrush of air as she saw the swords on the counter.  One of the swords was a
shashyn
, a serpent, the great sword of Aerioch.  As quickly as excitement brushed her mind, she quashed it.  Poor copies of the Aeriochnon
shashyn
sometimes appeared in nations bordering Aerioch, toys for the local nobles to play with and pretend that they could match the Knights of Aerioch.  Yet without the secrets of its making, secrets closely guarded by swordsmiths in Aerioch, any foreign-made
shashyn
could be scarce more than a plaything, fit for children to play at being knights.

Paying no particular attention to the
shashyn
, Kaila inspected the swords the smith laid on the counter.  She paid particular attention to the edges and the ricasso, the unbeveled area in front of the guards.  She held in turn several swords by the grip and swung them slowly in graceful arcs, using only her wrist and forearm, trying their balance.

In the end, she turned to the
shashyn
.  The blade and grip were the correct length.  When she set the point on the ground, the blade came up to her hip while the pommel just reached the height of her short ribs.  About a hand long for her but, she eyed Kreg critically, it should be perfect for Kreg’s longer frame.  The blade was also the correct width and thickness, with a wide, shallow groove that ran half the length of the blade.  The ricasso was short, the edges starting almost immediately in front of the guard.  And, how strange, there was no maker’s mark.

From the hilts, it tapered gracefully to the point.  The edge was not particularly well honed, but the basic shape was correct.  Some candles with a stone would correct the flaw.

The steel of the blade did not have the delicate serpentine patterns produced by whatever secret techniques went into the making of the true
shashyn
of Aerioch and Kaila was dubious that it would be both strong enough to stand in combat yet not so brittle as to shatter at the first blow.

She decided to test it anyway and placed the point of the sword against one of the stone tiles of the floor. She leaned her weight against the blade judging the amount of bow.  With a twist of her wrist, she let the point spring free of the stone and watched the blade snap back to straightness too fast for the eye to follow and leaving no residual curve to the blade.

She looked at the smith. “Pells?”

For answer the smith gestured at a door at the side of the shop that led to a small courtyard.  In the middle of that yard stood a wooden post.

Kaila approached the post, then looked back at the smith.

“As the Lady pleases,” he said.

Kaila slid her right foot forward, leaving the sword trailing behind on the left, sloped down so that the tip hovered a few fingerwidths above the dirt.  She paused for a bare moment then struck, driving the sword with measured force into the pell.

Three more times she struck at different angles, striking with different parts of the blade.  For the final strike she closed with the pell and drove all her strength and weight behind the base of the blade, with the cross hilt just kissing the wood.

Wrenching the sword free from the wood, she held it up and sighted along its length.  Still as straight as when she had begun.

Gods’ Iron, she thought.  The sword had to be made of Gods’ Iron.  It would suffice.

"Verily, there is little enough of value here," Kaila said.  She walked back into the shop. "What ask you for this blade, though it is fit only to skin some farmer's fat hogs?"

"Ah!" The smith beamed. "Trust Madam to select the best sword in the shop!  A true warrior's sword!  Note the edge, keen enou' to behead a krayt at one blow.  Note the balance.  Note the weight.  It is heavy enou' to withstand the stoutest of broadswords, yet light enou' to be swift on the attack and on the parry.  Surely such a blade will be a joy to use."

"I note," Kaila said, "that you say naught of the temper.  Will the edge hold true or will it be blunted at the first strike?  Still, for the nonce, it will suffice." She shrugged. "What ask you?"

"Why, madam." The smith bowed. "Such a fine sword could not possibly be sold for less than the price of twenty-five rabeni."

"Twenty-five rabeni?  For this tin billet?" Kaila dropped the sword, shaking her hand as if the sword had burned her. "I will give you ten."

"Ten!" The smith shrieked.  He grabbed his dull brown hair as though to pull it out by the roots. "Were I to part with the swordsmith's pride for so paltry a sum, he would have me flayed alive then boiled in oil.  And then he would have my flayed hide made into scabbards!  I will sell to you for twenty-three."

Kaila frowned and sighed. "'Tis theft at half the price.  Nevertheless, I will pay thirteen."

"For that sum--" The smith shook his head. "--I would avoid only being made into scabbards.  Still, in honor of your companion who stands looking on and is so bold as to wear the garb of desert raiders--" He frowned. "--I will sell for twenty."

"Fifteen," Kaila said.

"Eighteen," the man said, "and not a ve'ib less."

Kaila shook her head. "'Tis robbery, but eighteen if you will also supply two whalebone training swords, balanced and weighted thus--" She held up the
shashyn
. "--in trade for my companion's rapier."

"Although of a surety the smith will punish me," the smith said, "I will do as you bid."

He stalked into the back of the shop, grumbling, and returned with the training swords.

#

Kreg glanced over at Kaila and saw a wide smile gracing her face as they left the shop. "I take it he was as pleased with the price of the sword as you seem to be?"

"Pleased to have any coin at all, I think." Kaila smiled still more broadly. "Still.  ‘Tis a puzzlement." She shook her head.

“A puzzlement?” Kreg asked.

Kaila nodded. "Despite all I said, the sword is of excellent make, although--" She smiled again. "--not quite the equal of the claims that yon smith made for it.  Should you be so unfortunate as to meet a krayt, rely not on this sword to behead it at a single blow, but do as I would do and flee to the protection of stout stone walls.  So if the smith made this sword, why then did he not put his maker’s mark upon it?  And if he did not, from whence came it?  A puzzlement.”

She shook her head again, then said, "Also, did you note the manner of my speech while we bargained over the price?  'Tis the manner in such things, to speak in only the most formal of language.  You must learn this as well.  Doubtless you will lose many a raben before you catch the knack."

"Doubtless." He guessed she meant bargaining in general and not just the mode of speech.  He also suspected the most important factor was one she had not mentioned--knowing the approximate value of an item before one began to dicker. "Since you've mentioned language, there's something I've been wondering."

"Say on," Kaila said.