Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (19 page)

Captain Jimson suddenly got the hint and leapt forward.
“Here, Lord Rezkin. Please use mine. It is a master blade of similar quality to
the striker’s, from what I understand.”

Rezkin’s brows rose in surprise, and he smiled pleasantly as
he replied, “Why, thank you, Captain. It is most generous of you to lend me
your blade.” He removed his sword belt and handed it to the captain.

The striker grinned, and his eyes twinkled with a hint of
humor at the young man’s ingenuity. “But, Lord Rezkin, you seem to be a sword
short,” he remarked.

Palis stepped forward, “Here, Rezkin. I should like you to use
mine. It is also of similar quality and most alike in weight and length to the
captain’s. These are certainly a closer match than the soldiers’ blades you
used for your previous demonstration.”

“Thank you, Palis. This is most appreciated,” Rezkin replied
as he grinned at Kai in triumph. He reminded himself not to revel in his
successes and focused on the task at hand.

Kai had no shield, so he pulled his long-handled dagger to
use for blocking. The dagger had a long crossguard that hooked upward on each end
and could be used for trapping and snapping an opponent’s blade with enough
force. “Lord Rezkin, I offer you the honor of first strike.”

Rezkin swung the two unfamiliar blades around in lazy
circles. He felt the familiar thrill of battle energy begin to bleed through
his being. “No, please, Striker, it is to you. I insist,” Rezkin replied.

The striker bowed slightly in acknowledgement and then came
in quickly with a ferocious overhead strike. Rezkin whipped his left blade up
to block, while at the same time his right blade swooped in from the side.
Kai’s dagger flashed out to catch the blade before it could score and twisted
his sword to force Rezkin’s blade away, preventing the younger man from making
a move on the striker’s exposed side. The striker stepped in and slashed with
his dagger, but Rezkin twisted and slid his right blade between them, blocking
the strike.

Rezkin abruptly spun to his left and back around to strike
at Kai’s flank. The striker dove forward and rolled back to his feet, but
Rezkin was already close enough to strike again. Kai was surprised when the
young warrior did not take the opportunity. It was then that Kai realized
Rezkin was playing it easy for the audience. The striker decided to push
matters. He had plans for his new king, and he could not afford for the young
future heads of three prominent houses to see the young man as weak. He wanted
Rezkin to impress, and so he would.

The speed and difficulty of the striker’s attacks gradually
increased in slow enough increments as to appear that the two had merely been
feeling each other out, which they were. Kai truthfully had little idea of the
level of his liege’s skill, except that Rezkin had to be a Dual-Blade
Swordmaster in order to carry
two
Sheyalins. But, Rezkin was fighting with
unknown blades, and the young man was used to fighting with one long- and one
shortsword. The fact that the striker had not been able to score a hit on the
young man thus far was impressive, and he
had
been trying. This was his
opportunity to test his king’s mettle.

Rezkin noticed the striker had begun to push the sparring
too far. He did not want to expose his abilities in front of the young lords.
He could tell from the glint in the striker’s eye that the man did not intend
to relent. Neither would he allow Rezkin to take an easy loss. Rezkin could
stop the fight quickly by simply defeating the striker, but that would
countermand his intentions. If Kai were to perform as a good vassal
should
,
knowing Rezkin wished to hide his abilities, then the striker would step back,
thank Rezkin for the match, and applaud his
Skills
without revealing
that neither man had performed to the fullest of his abilities. But, Kai was
not being a
good
vassal. He was pressing on Rezkin’s nerves.

The striker and the young
lord
danced around each
other with increasing intensity. Palis watched as Rezkin passed up several
opportunities to strike, and began to wonder if he was holding back
intentionally. As the match increased in pace, the young Jebai became certain
that Rezkin could have struck during any one of the earlier missed
opportunities. One-by-one new techniques slipped into the mix, none of which
had been demonstrated on previous occasions. Palis was now certain that Rezkin
was a
much
better swordsman than he claimed to be.

As Rezkin fought the striker, he began to formulate a new
plan in the back of his mind. The man was pushing him into revealing more than
he could afford for his old plan to succeed. He could blame himself for
allowing such events to take place, but with the striker’s determination, the
only way he could have prevented it would have been for Kai to die. Rezkin felt
no desire for the striker’s death, even if the man
did
prove problematic
for his plans. Part of Rezkin’s training demanded he be capable of generating
new plans quickly when the old plans failed – and they
would
fail.
It was one of the laws of combat and intrigue.

Satisfied with his new idea, a feral smile crawled across
Rezkin’s face. Kai noticed the glint in Rezkin’s eyes and knew he was in trouble.
Rezkin came at him so fast the striker could not have said what moves the man
made if his life depended on it. One moment he was engaged in battle, and the
next he was sprawled across the deck on his stomach with his face in the
splintered boards and a blade at his throat.

Rezkin had rushed Kai with a burst of speed only achievable
through years of physical and mental training. A surge of battle energy poured
through him. He slashed and twisted at Kai’s dagger-hand with unexpected speed
and force. Kai lost his grip, and the dagger went flying only to stick deeply
into the wood of the main mast.

The pent-up energy of battle rushed forth in abrupt,
unforeseen aggression and violence. He stepped into Kai’s guard and slammed the
man in the forearm with the pommel of his sword before quickly catching the
blade between both of his own and twisting. The striker could not maintain his
grip, and the sword clattered across the deck. Rezkin immediately ducked and
swept his leg out and around, knocking the striker’s feet out from under him.
Kai hit the deck with a loud
whomp
, and Rezkin stood over him in triumph
with the tip of his blade at the man’s throat.

Rezkin shook his head and tisked. “You have forced me to
reveal my hand, Striker,” he said as he leaned forward and continued
menacingly, “and I am
not
pleased.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” the striker muttered against the
planks, “I meant no disrespect.”

“I doubt that,” Rezkin hissed as he withdrew his blade.

Kai rolled over and donned a cunning grin as he regained his
feet, “Though, my lord, I doubt I could really
force
you to do anything
against your will.”

Rezkin narrowed his eyes at his disobedient vassal. “In the
present matter, you are correct. I have changed my plans.” Rezkin cocked his
head thoughtfully as his momentary anger fizzled. “Perhaps you have done me a
favor, as unintentional as it was. The new plan is much easier but was not
previously possible without your presence and cooperation.”

“I endeavor to serve, my lord,” the striker said with a
courtly bow. It was an inappropriate genuflection from a striker to a mere
lord. Rezkin narrowed his eyes in warning. The striker donned the same tawdry
grin that Rezkin was quickly concluding needed to be punched from the man’s
face. The young lord jerked a hand in the direction of Kai’s lonely weapons, a
clear sign of dismissal. To Rezkin’s ever-growing irritation, the man saluted
before moving to retrieve them.

The young warrior wiped the frustration from his face before
turning to his companions. He wore a slightly pleasant purse to his lips as he
surveyed the astounded faces. Waylen, having had no preconceptions of the man
simply looked eager and curious. While the others all wore a cloak of surprise,
each had a secondary undercurrent of emotion. Palis appeared to be pleased and
satisfied, Brandt’s eyes held a glint of morbid excitement, Tieran was pale and
withdrawn, and Malcius appeared confused and dejected. From Captain Jimson was
humble acceptance. Surprisingly, Rezkin noted that Wesson had joined the group
at some point, but the look on his face was oddly unreadable. Rather than
parading around in an arrogant display of nonchalance as he normally would
amongst the young nobles, Rezkin waited patiently for their reactions. He knew
he would have to drop a portion of his pretense but not all.

After the silence finally became too uncomfortable, Malcius
asked, “What was
that
, Rezkin?” The man’s eyes pleaded for a reasonable
explanation, one that he could accept without feeling as though he had been
deceived all this time by a man in whom he felt a sort of kindred spirit.
Malcius had quickly come to think of the man as a friend, and he admired the
dignity and grace with which Rezkin comported himself.

Rezkin grinned. “That was me defeating the striker,” he
stated simply.

Palis looked askance at the easy reply, “You were
toying
with him.”

Rezkin scratched at his jaw uncomfortably, for effect of
course, and replied, “No, not toying. I had expected only a simple
demonstration of
Skill
. The striker, I believe, decided to press me for
a better accounting of my abilities.” He said the last with a slight scowl
toward the grinning striker.

“And, just what
are
those abilities?” Malcius
inquired with an accusatory inflection.

Rezkin tilted his head in acquiescence and replied, “I may
have permitted you to believe that my
Skills
were less advanced than was
strictly true. But, in my defense, I never said the forms I previously
demonstrated were the only forms I knew, which I recall the captain pointed out
at the time.”

“Why did you not tell us, Rezkin?” Malcius heatedly
questioned.

“I do not go about bragging of my
Skills
,” he
replied.

“Obviously, but it is more than that. I believe you actively
sought to hide your abilities from us. You may not have lied, but you certainly
intentionally misled,” Malcius countered.

Captain Jimson would have laughed if the situation were not
so serious. Malcius had hit the target dead on and did not even know the
massive extent of it. He was curious as to how Rezkin was going to finagle his
way out of this one.

Rezkin cocked his head and said honestly, “There would have
been too many questions, too many concerns.” Then hedging a bit, he continued,
“You were hesitant to practice in front of the striker. Your conviction waned
in the presence of a far superior swordsman. To what benefit would I flaunt my
prowess? You are all talented swordsmen endeavoring to prove yourselves at
tournament. I provided instruction in the form of suggestion and innuendo and
aimed to preserve your confidence.”

Malcius scoffed, “We are going to a
tournament
,
Rezkin. There will be superior swordsmen.”

“Yes, but how many of them will you come to know personally?
How many will you travel with for weeks at time? If given a choice between you
knowing me for my
Skill
and knowing me for my
worth
, I would
choose
worth
,” he replied and only afterward realized he truly meant the
words.

The anger fled from Malcius’s face. “You sought to gain our
acceptance of you,
personally,
without the benefit of your skill?”

Rezkin furrowed his brow. It had definitely not been his
intention at the time, but he recognized it was truer than not at this moment.
He cocked his head thoughtfully as he gazed at the faces around him and
realized he felt an odd connection with these people. He felt the sensation
more strongly for some than others, and strangely, he did not care for the
thought of losing it.

“I suppose there is truth in that,” he replied as he gauged
each man’s reaction. To his surprise, all discontent seemed to fade away, and
the men looked upon him with approval and…
pride
? Was it pride in
him
or pride in themselves for his desire to gain their acceptance? He thought it
an odd reaction since no one had accomplished anything in which to feel
prideful. Pride was a feeling with which Rezkin was relatively unfamiliar,
since it violated
Rule 14
; but he could remember what it felt like when
he had been a very young small-man and had completed his tasks. His masters and
the strikers had scolded him for his
pride
and worked relentlessly to
strip it from him. Thinking about the strikers had him glancing at Kai who was
considering him with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

Malcius smiled broadly and clapped his hands, “Ah, Rez, we
do
know you, now, and you have no need to hide yourself from us.
But
, now
that I know you are an expert with abilities far beyond my own, I intend to
make use of your talents before we arrive in Skutton.”

“Do not think he is the only one,” Palis said with youthful
excitement.

“I think you all are missing the point!” Tieran interjected.
“How did you
get
so good Rezkin? Who trained you? Who were these dead
masters of whom you spoke?”

Rezkin shrugged, regaining a bit of his nonchalance. “They
were men employed for the purpose of training me. I…” he paused in
consideration and then forged ahead, “…will admit that I have trained with
strikers in the past.”

Kai could not decide if he was surprised. He knew Rezkin had
much knowledge of striker
Rules
and
Skills
, but he had never
heard of anyone training with strikers who had not actually become a striker.
Kai had also met all of the strikers and trainees at one time or another, and
Rezkin had not been among them.