Last Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 2) (25 page)

Garonk pointed to another part of the chamber that had a pile of other types of weapons.  “A mace?  A club with spikes?”

              “No, nothing like that.  The blades are only sharp on one side and aren’t quite as long as the longsword blade.  Light and strong.  And fast.”

              Garonk fumbled through the pile of swords himself, knocking many of them to the floor.  He pulled out a sword with a curved blade that was very wide.  “This is a scimitar. Is this what you are looking for?”

              Conner took it, but he immediately didn’t like it.  The thickest part of the blade was almost six inches from sharp edge to the back.  It tapered to a point that could be used for stabbing, but because the blade was so thick, it would likely not go through chainmail at all.  It was heavy, heavier than the broadswords the Karmon Knights used.  He set it down with a shake of his head.  “Too awkward.”

              Reluctantly, he picked up another longsword like he had used in his first battle.  They found an empty spot to train.

              “Show me,” Garonk said.  “But slowly.  I just want to see how you stand and how you attack.”

              Conner set himself like he had done many hundreds of times on the practice field with Karmon squires.  He did not even have to think about where his feet went or how he held his sword, or that he had positioned his body to make as small a target as possible.

              “Good,” Garonk said with a nod.  He held up his own sword in a defensive position.  “Now show me something.”

              Conner moved, his sword flashing out with a slash aimed at Garonk’s unprotected head.  He had to jump away and dunk to keep Conner’s sword from crashing into his skull.

              Garonk jumped back up from the ground screaming loudly, “Slowly!  You almost killed me!”

              Conner stepped back and let the tip of his sword rest on the ground.  He had gone slow, or at least not nearly as fast as he could have.  He would have to force himself to go so much slower.  He returned to his starting position and this time he moved as slowly as he could, trying to simulate how he would attack someone.

              After several minutes, Garonk held up a hand and stepped back.  “You have been trained well.”

              “Of course,” Conner said.  “I am a Karmon Knight.”

              Garonk smiled.  “Of course you say you are, but I needed to see your swordplay to see if you truly were one.  But you have much skill.  Now it is time to learn how to fight in a show.”
             

              “I don’t understand,” Conner said.  “How is fighting in a show any different than just fighting?”

              “It is mostly the same, but just like you slowed your sword down for me, you slow your sword down for your opponent.  And you call out your moves.”

              “What!?” Conner exclaimed.  “How can I win if I tell my opponent what I am going to do?”

              “When you are so much better than your opponent, then it will make your fight last longer.  And the longer the fight, the more the crowd will be into it.  But at some point, you will call out quietly
Enchara!
  That will tell your opponent, or he will tell you, that the fight is really on.  The show is over, it is time for one of you to die.”

              Conner let out a long sigh.  “This show thing does not make sense.”

              “Of course not,” Garonk said.  “You are a knight, are you not?  You are bred and trained to kill.  You must ignore your training and play to the crowd, to let the crowd get wild, and then you can put your training to use.  Now, show me again your moves and I will show you some show tricks that will get the crowd all riled up!”

***

              Marik was out of his element.  South Karmon was a big city to him, but Tara City was so much larger.  He had been walking for hours trying to get his bearings.  He needed to understand the layout of the city first, before he started to ask questions about Conner.  He was foreigner in a strange land and the last thing that he wanted to do was to spook anyone, especially the centurions.  And if he did, he wanted to know where to run to in order to hide.  He had thought it was going to be just a few hours to get through the city, but by the time darkness was beginning to descend on the city, he had hardly seen much of the city at all.  It would take him several days for him to learn what he needed to learn.

              He was sure that Conner was in the city.  Even if Conner hadn’t told him directly, it was too well known in the castle that this was where he wanted to go.  But he could be in any inn or tavern or just living on the street.  There was always the possibility that he was in more dire circumstances, but that was unlikely.  Conner was a naïve boy and even if he got in trouble, it was unlikely that he would be sentenced to the dungeons.  But even so, it was a possibility.  But he had learned that centurions drank heavily and hopefully the dungeon guards did as well.  An imprisoned Karmon should be easy to find.  But he had thought that a Karmon would be easy to find in Taran.  But Taran was a very large place that held thousands, if not millions, of people.  Many of which actually looked like Conner.

              It wasn’t fully dark, yet, but it would be soon.  Before long, he would have to give up and find a place to spend the night.  It would not be hard to find one, as there seemed to be an inn on every street corner.

              Out of curiosity, he had directed his wanderings towards the center of the city where there were large stone structures.  He had kept his eye on the tallest structure, a stone building that was five stories tall.  It had been far away when he first seen it, and its enormous size intrigued him.  As he approached it down a wide avenue, he found himself staring up at its height.

              With his eyes up, and not in front of him, he ran into the back of a large crowd that had gathered at the base of the building.  The man he ran into angrily spoke to him with words that he could not understand.

              “I am sorry!” Marik replied.

              “You are not from around here?” the man snapped back in a language that Marik could understand.

              “No,” Marik said.  “I am from Karmon.  I was just admiring this structure.  It is amazing.”

              The man was dressed in a fur-lined white robe pulled tightly around his shoulders.  “Well, fine then.  Watch your step.”

              “What is it?  The building,” Marik asked.

              The men let out a huff, but he answered, “It is the show arena.  They are announcing tomorrow’s show.”

              “Show?”

              After another sigh, the man said.  “Fights.  Gladiators fight to the death.  The show master is announcing that a soldier from the east, a Hurai, will be fighting.”

              A horrible feeling fell over Marik.  He could easily imagine that it was Master Goshin.

              “The gladiators, who are they?”

              The man looked back at Marik with an irritated look, but he still replied, “They are prisoners.  Some are deserted soldiers or murders or just criminals.  Now does it matter?  And I am trying to listen to what the show master is saying!”

              Marik pushed his way through the crowd.  An elderly man in a white cloak was standing on top of a podium shouting in what Marik figured was Taran, as he could not understand any words being spoken.  He was glad that many in the city spoke the same language as he did, as it made making transactions such as buying food so much easier.  But he wished he knew what the man was saying.  He was afraid to ask anyone else as the entire crowd seemed to be held in awe of what the elderly man was saying.  Finally, the man raised his arms to finish his speech and the entire crowd erupted in cheering.

              Marik turned to a young boy who was standing next to him.  “What did he say?”

              “The Hurai fights tomorrow,” the boy said.

              “Is that all?  When does he fight?”

              “The shows start when the sun is high in the sky.”  Then the boy turned and ran away as the crowd began to disperse.

              Marik walked the perimeter of the arena.  There were cages that held sleeping animals, but none of them held any prisoners.  He hoped his gut feeling was wrong and that it really wasn’t Master Goshin who was fighting.  Even though he was skilled, he was still an old man.  He would be hard pressed to be able to fight a well-trained soldier.  But if they were all prisoners, maybe none of them were trained at all and Master Goshin would be okay.

              With the sun finally dipping below the horizon, Marik left the arena to find an inn where he could spend the night.  And then he would have to figure out how to get into the arena.

Chapter Nineteen

Berrien, Peter, and Iffus approached the castle dressed in their new clothes.  Berrien wore a loose fitting dark blue tunic underneath a light cloak that came only to his knees.  It had no hood, but had a high collar that covered the back of his head.  The clothier had claimed it was the latest style of the nobles and charged heavily for it.  Peter and Iffus were dressed to appear as the muscle escorts that they were to portray.  They didn’t wear armor, but their light leather outer garments would serve the purpose if they were to get into a fight.  But Berrien had given them clear instructions on their role.  They were to only appear as his body guards and not actually take any action.

              Havid was alone and greeted them in the open courtyard outside of the main gate.  “You clean up well,” Havid said.

              “It was painful to dress down,” Berrien said, smoothing out his cloak.  He winked at Havid, who didn’t know how to react. Was he being serious, or just facetious? 

              Without knowing how to react, he glanced at Peter and Iffus.  “You brought muscle?  Was that really necessary?”

              “I am a highly placed dignitary in the Taran government.  They are my escorts whether I want them here or not.  Their duty is to protect me, as I am a representative of the empire.”

              Havid accepted the answer and took his previous statement about dressing down as being a serious one.  He looked at them more closely.  They had no obvious weapons, but a small dagger could be hidden almost anywhere.  “Unarmed?”

              “Of course,” Berrien said with a roll of his eyes. “You think this is the first time I’ve ever held audience with the ruler of a nation?  It would be an insult to bring weapons to such a meeting and I am insulted that you would even ask.”

              Havid felt uncomfortable at the change in attitude of Berrien.  In their previous meetings, he seemed very down to earth and not the snooty aristocrat that he would expect from a Taran dignitary.  But his true colors were starting to show through.  For the briefest of moments, he thought about calling the whole thing off.  But this was an important meeting where the perpetrators who poisoned the well would be exposed.  He could not let one snotty conversation change his mind.  Especially knowing how the noble class operated.  Although he was the head of the Merchant’s Guild, he was still a commoner and was consistently treated as such.

With a final conclusion that he would just have to accept his tone of voice, he apologized.  “I meant no insult.”

Berrien gave a dramatic pause, playing the game that he knew so well.  “No harm.  Shall we proceed?”

              “I have requested a meeting with Lord Martin.”

              “And he will listen to us?”

              “He is the queen’s most trusted advisor.  He is involved with most of the day to day business of the kingdom, that which is too unimportant for the queen’s attention.  I understand he was incensed at how your predecessors were treated.  He is a man who likes to please.”

              “Just the man for us, then.”

Havid shrugged his shoulders.  “We shall see.  Come.”

              Havid led them towards the castle.  The wide gate that led into the castle grounds was open, but the portcullis was down, blocking their entrance.  Two soldiers stood guard outside the gate while two more were just inside.  All four were armed with long halberds and had swords strapped at their sides.  Their faces were weathered and lined with age.  Standing straight and tall, they held a clear military bearing that a young city guard would not have.

              “Dignitaries of the empire of Taran to meet with Lord Martin,” Havid announced to one of them as he approached.

              The guard gave Havid a quick look, and then carefully looked over Berrien and his two escorts.  He kept his eyes on Peter the longest, as he was the largest and carried himself like a soldier.

              “It is early,” the guard said.  “The castle is hardly awake.”

              “I have an appointment.”

              Havid’s face was well known around the city guard, as he spent much time at the castle.  There was no reason to doubt his story, so the guard signaled for the portcullis to be raised.

              With creaking effort, the large metal portcullis was lifted up just high enough for them to walk under.  As soon as they did, it came crashing down behind them.  Berrien and Iffus jumped, but Havid and Peter did not.

              “Hold here,” one of the inside guards said, smirking at the surprised reaction that Berrien and Iffus had to the closing of the portcullis.  Turning towards the castle, he let out a whistle and a young boy came running from a small door near the stables.

              The young page was given instructions by the guard and then ran back into the castle.

              Berrien watched the city guard carefully.  They stood casually, but had their eyes on the four of them, but Peter most carefully of all.  They clearly had picked him out as the only soldier, or former soldier, of the bunch.  There was something different about these guards at the castle.  The ones that he had seen out in the city were young and didn’t carry the same serious bearing that these guards did.  Clearly it was the difference between guards who protected the queen and those that protected the rest of the city.  The other interesting piece of information he discovered was that the queen had disbanded the Karmon Knights and had integrated them and the former Royal Guard into one group of soldiers.  He wondered if the four that he was looking at had been knighted and were former Karmon Knights.  It must have been a shock to their system to be demoted from such a prestigious honor to being just like everyone else.  He actually had a bit of sympathy for them.  Not much, but some.

              As Berrien was looking around, not trying to be obvious while studying the layout of the castle grounds, the page came running back.

              The young boy bowed before them.  “Sirs, if you will.  Please follow me.”

              The page led them across the courtyard to the main entrance to the castle.  It was a set of oak doors that the page had a bit of trouble opening.  Once open, they were led into a grand foyer lined with tapestries of many colors and designs.  Several doors led off to the side of the long foyer, but the page led them down to the end.  Another set of oak doors was closed at the end.  Havid knew that on the other side was the Great Hall where many feasts were given and the queen held court.

              Instead of opening those doors, the page knocked on the last door to their right.  When it opened, he was given leave and ran off.

              An older man in a flowing robe appeared in the doorway.  He was short and a little plump.  Not fat, but obviously one to enjoy good food.

              “Gentlemen!  I give you welcome to Karmon.  I am Lord Martin.”  He dipped at the waist with some attempt of a bow.  “I am at your service.”

              Havid stepped forward and said, “Lord Martin, I am pleased to see you.  May I introduce the Taran dignitaries that I told you about?”

              “Please do,” Lord Martin said.

              As Havid was about to introduce them, Berrien stepped forward.  “I am Berrien of Taran.  These two are my escorts.  Peter and Iffus.”

              “Greetings,” Lord Martin said.  “Come, enter my chambers.”

              Havid stepped into the chambers, but Berrien did not move, which caused Lord Martin to have a perplexed look on his face.  “Do you not wish to come in?”

              Berrien said, “Of course I do, but the topic of discussion is somewhat of a sensitive nature.”

              Havid, looked back, stunned at first, and then he got angry.  But he kept his mouth shut, as he was in the presence of a ruling authority.

              Lord Martin turned to Havid and said, as pleasantly as he could, “Thank you for escorting these Taran dignitaries here.  I look forward to the next time we can get together.”

              Fuming, Havid stormed off.  The bad feeling about Berrien and the situation stuck in his gut, making him want to find a dark corner and empty his stomach.  He would quickly spread word through his guild members to keep an eye on these three foreigners.

              Lord Martin stepped out of the door and motioned for Berrien to enter his chambers.  Peter and Iffus followed.

              A large fire roared in the fireplace along the far wall, bringing warmth to the cool morning.  The room had clearly been set up as a receiving room as there were many plush chairs and two long couches.  Two of the larger plush chairs had been set up in the center of the room.  Lord Martin had also assumed that Havid would not be joining them, which Berrien found interesting.  He had thought that the head of the Merchant’s Guild would hold some higher sway with the aristocracy of the kingdom, but clearly not.

In between the two chairs was a small table filled with breads, cheeses, and fruits.  Another table off to the side held two tall goblets and an even taller pitcher.

              “Wine?” Lord Martin offered.

              “Of course,” Berrien said.  He stepped forward, but Peter and Iffus stayed near the doorway, as they had been instructed.

              Lord Martin filled the two goblets, handing one to Berrien.  “To the kingdom of Karmon and the Taran Empire,” he said.

              Berrien touched his goblet to Lord Martin’s and said, “May there be peace between our nations.”

              They each took a deep pull from their drinks.  Berrien was pleasantly surprised that it was not the cheap sweet wine that the Karmons so enjoyed.  It was well aged and finely crafted.  He had heard of Karmon vineyards in the southeastern portion of the kingdom, but had not ever partaken in the wines made from their grapes.  He made a mental note to drink slowly, as the better wines would also have more alcohol and have a negative effect on his judgement.

              He stepped over to one of the plush chairs and set his goblet on the table next to the cheese.  Lord Martin took a seat as well and immediately popped several chunks of cheese into his mouth.

              “I am so glad that you have taken the trouble to visit our fair city,” Lord Martin said with a pleasant smile.  He was surprised to have the Taran dignitaries call upon him and he felt a bit of nervousness as well.  Once the queen had taken the throne and kicked out the Tarans who had arrived with Neffenmark, he feared that Taran would turn into an adversary, rather than the lucrative trading partner that they had been.  For generations, their little kingdom thrived in the shadow of the empire, pretty much ignored, but sharing in the wealth of the commerce between them.  If that was suddenly cut off, the flow of money into the castles coffers would be cut in more than half.  He knew the queen intended well, but in this case she was wrong and he needed to do something about it.

              “Admiral Hester sends his wishes,” Berrien said.  While Lord Martin finished chewing his mouthful of cheese, he reached forward and took some for himself.

              “And please send him mine,” Lord Martin replied politely.

              “I shall do so the moment I return,” Berrien answered.  He rather enjoyed lying.  The hardest part was to do it in a way that he wouldn’t be able to get caught in the future.  But in this case, he knew that once he left he would never return again, so he could pretty much make up anything he wanted to say.  “Shall we get right to it?”
              “Of course,” Lord Martin replied.

              “Emperor Hargon was very displeased at how his Admiral was treated.  To be kicked out of your country in the manner that he was…Well, it was simply barbaric and rude.”

              Lord Martin’s face turned red with embarrassment and tried to show an understanding smile.  “You must understand the turmoil that has surrounded the kingdom the past few months.”

              “No,” Berrien said with a shake of his head.  “I do not.  Nor does the emperor.  Nor do we care.  He only knows that a treaty between your kingdom and the empire had been signed and approved.  Admiral Hester returned back to Tara City with the news that the terms of the agreement were not being followed.  I am here to ask one question.  Is that true?”

              Lord Martin stammered and stuttered on his words before he finally regained composure.  He was caught off with the direct questioning.  He had expected more play and give and take before their conversation became serious.  “Well, those decisions were made by the queen in the best interest of the kingdom.”

              “I see,” Berrien said.  “You are not a trusted advisor of hers?  Do you not have any say in how she thinks and acts?”

              “Well of course I do,” Lord Martin said.  “The queen is very young and rash.  She does not have the experience of men such as you and me.  But she is still the queen and her word, whether we like it or not, is rule of the land.”

              “So then, you have no authority?”

              Lord Martin cleared his throat and replied, “I wouldn’t say that.  In many matters, I have full authority to do as I see fit.  But when it comes to the relationship between our two nations, the queens holds the authority.  We can certainly discuss any parameters of an acceptable treaty, but it will be the queen who makes the final call.  That is what you are looking for, right?  A treating between our nations?”