Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (43 page)

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Authors: Kel Kade

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BOOK: Reign of Madness (Revised Edition)
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Rezkin cocked his head thoughtfully. The others swayed back
slightly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Ah, well, when you usually do that, it makes you appear
thoughtful and open. Now, it just looks disturbingly…
alien
,” Kai
observed.

“Is that so? Perhaps I can use that to my advantage,” the
warrior replied.

Kai turned abruptly to the mage and blurted, “What is wrong
with his voice? It is too much for my mind to accept. Are you certain that is
Rezkin?”

Rezkin chuckled and removed the mask revealing that he was,
in fact, himself.

“I require your assistance, Kai. I need to test the disguise
as well as the sword. We will go to the forest outside the city to spar,”
Rezkin declared.

“Sword? Ah! I did not know you obtained a new sword,” the
striker exclaimed.

“Come to think of it, it may be a good idea for the
Journeyman to attend, as well. The sword is unique. It was made with a mage
material that has never been seen before and likely never will again, since the
mage cannot seem to figure out how he made it,” Rezkin replied. “That is why it
is so important that we test it. I cannot have it shattering during a duel.”

“Yes, that would be unfortunate,” Kai muttered.

“Can I come?” Tam asked excitedly.

“Of course, Tam. You are more than welcomed,” the warrior
replied.

Rezkin rubbed his chin as he thought over his options.
Finally, he said, “I do not wish to change before we leave and then change
again once we arrive. I will meet you all at the tree line on the eastern
road.”

Kai frowned. “How do you expect to get there without being
seen?”

“I am a Master of Stealth, Kai, day and night. I will
succeed,” Rezkin replied.

Kai let out a low whistle. “Not too many Stealthmasters. I
know you said you mastered all the
Skills
, but I still cannot say I
believe it.”

Rezkin waved them off and then replaced his mask. He pulled
the hood low over his face and slipped out his window, which faced the alley.
He easily swung up onto the roof and then sprinted across to the next one. As
he passed over the roofs and through dark alleys, he mentally focused on his
will
.
Whenever he was in a particularly tricky area where he was sure to be glimpsed,
he pulled his cloak around himself and hunched over,
willing
observers
to believe he was just a street beggar and nothing more. With nothing but quick
glances and a dark cloak to observe, he was fairly certain the spell would be
convincing.

With nowhere to go, few people ventured outside the city, so
once the young warrior was on the open road he had little about which to worry.
In fact, he did not pass another soul until he caught up with his companions.
Testing his own abilities and the spell’s limits, he scurried from copse to
copse around them,
willing
them to believe he was nothing more than a
shadow. The striker’s eyes darted in his direction several times, but he never
caught sight of the warrior. The mage became visibly uncomfortable a few times
when Rezkin passed particularly near, but neither did he determine Rezkin’s
presence. Tam was completely oblivious to Rezkin’s antics, but he grew
unsettled in reaction to the striker’s darting eyes.

“How long do you think it will take him to get here?” Tam
asked once they reached the edge of the forest.

“It could take some time. Moving with stealth through a busy
city in broad daylight is no easy task. Add to that the man’s insane getup, and
we may have to wait a while,” Kai grumbled.

Rezkin decided in that moment to drop down from a tree
directly into the striker’s path. The man jumped back with a shout, and
abruptly drew his sword before realizing the specter before him was Rezkin.

Thrusting his blade back into its sheath, Kai exclaimed,
“You should not surprise a man who wields a blade, especially a Swordmaster. I
could have run you through.”

“Not likely,” Rezkin remarked, his voice enchanted to be
unrecognizable. He cocked his head simply because he knew the striker found it
unnerving. “I have been stalking you for about half a mark.”

Kai frowned. “You have to do something about that, Mage.
Every sentence he speaks is as if I am hearing his voice for the first time. At
the very least, I should be able to recognize his voice from one sentence to
the next. This is completely unnatural.”

Wesson smiled devilishly, which was a strange look on such a
beautiful male face. “I think the spell is working perfectly, then. He is
supposed
to be frightening and unnerving. He is The Rez.”

Chapter 18

The group trod further into the woods off the main path.
When they found a clearing large enough, the striker and Rezkin faced off.
Rezkin drew the sword, and the others were just as astounded by its beauty and
uniqueness as Rezkin had been. Wesson could not wait to examine the material in
whatever way mages did such things. Tam was disappointed that he would likely
never be able to obtain such a weapon.

The two expert swordsmen put the sword through a rigorous
round of testing, which also served as excellent exercise for both warriors.
When they were finished, not a scratch or nick could be seen on the black
blade. The sword looked as though it had never been wielded. What was more
interesting was that every time the swords connected, the green bolts within
glowed brighter, and Rezkin barely felt the reverberating effects of the
collision. The companions pondered the question for a while and finally decided
that the mage material within the iron was somehow absorbing the power of the
collision, and the power was either stored or released as the visible glow.
Since Kai did not feel the same reduction in the power of the strike, they
determined that only Rezkin would be affected and not his opponent.

Rezkin was worried that the blade was somehow inadvertently
enchanted and he would not be able to use it for the tournament, but the mage
was quick to dismiss the concern. He assured the warrior that the effect was
simply a property of the material and not an enchantment. Many mages would be
at the tournament, some monitoring for enchanted weapons, others making sure
that any mages competing did not use their powers. In addition, many talented
healers would be on hand. Wesson assured Rezkin that any of the mages that
examined the blade would be able to tell that it was not enchanted.

The warrior was extremely pleased with his new sword and had
few complaints about his attire. Wesson added one more small enchantment to his
mask and hair clips, which prevented them from coming loose. The enchantment
used Rezkin’s
will
to determine if he actually
wanted
the items
to be removed before releasing them. The layered black attire, extra hair, mask
and cloak were all terribly hot in the late summer sun, but this was one
instance where appearances were more important than practicality. Rezkin did
not care about winning the tournament. His purposes were to draw the attention
of the strikers in a way that impressed upon them his value and threat of
danger, and to gain notice by the crowd in a way that inspired them to lend him
their support.

 

The following day, Rezkin dashed across rooftops and through
alleys to the tournament grounds in full costume. The competition was to be
held in two arenas. The smaller of the two was a new temporary elliptical field
around which mobile wooden stands were situated. Two daises were constructed at
the center of each long side, one for the officials, and one for important
spectators. The larger arena was a massive, permanent structure designed to
hold competitions and performances throughout the year. The structure was
constructed of a combination of white stone and wood with wooden stands along
three sides. The fourth side abutted a natural stone incline into which long
rows of benches had been carved. The stone that had been removed from the
stands was likely used in the construction of the remainder of the arena.

Once Rezkin was within sight of the main arena, he slipped
covertly into the flow of traffic. He stood straight with broad shoulders, his
hood was raised but pulled back enough for his mask and unusual braids to be
seen, and he walked with confidence and purpose. With his
will
, he
impressed upon the passing crowd that he was someone important, which was not
difficult given his costly attire and domineering bearing. With his cloak
billowing behind him, each step he took said that he not only owned this path
but the entire world it sat upon. His demeanor would brook no argument.

When people saw the dark wraith approaching, they
immediately jumped out of the way and stood clinging to each other, mouths
agape. When Rezkin arrived at the entrance to the arena, a troop of kingdom
soldiers was marching down the path in four columns. While everyone else
stepped off the path to let the soldiers pass, Rezkin simply strode forward,
unflinchingly and without pause. The soldiers parted before him, like water
flowing around an immovable boulder. It was not until he had passed that the
commander called the halt and all stood staring at the imposing warrior’s back
as he entered the portico.

Once inside the walls, Rezkin turned to one of several
booths that lined the registration area. He had already scouted the event ahead
of time, so he knew exactly where he needed to be and what to expect. The lines
to most of the booths were long, but one was reserved for registration of
nobles of high standing and important diplomats. Two such men were standing at
the table surrounded by their entourage of usual retainers. As Rezkin strode
forward, a ripple of unease and fear spread through the gathering as each
person took in his visage.

Rezkin stopped a few paces from the affluent group at the
registration table, and it was as if Death, himself, had found his victim and
need go no further. Every heart among them pounded rapidly, each with a
visceral desire for the source of their dread to continue moving past. Rezkin
cocked his head in the manner Kai found so disturbing, one way and then the
other as he took in each of the competitors. Kai must not have been alone in
his opinion of the motion, since the young warrior received several flinches
and a few back steps from the group.

One of the attendants manning the booth finally shook his
voice free and said, “Uh…N-Name?” His question was directed at the Torreli
emissary who stood before him, but his eyes remained on Rezkin.

The Torreli did not answer, as he, too, stared at the dark
warrior in their midst. Eventually, he bowed slightly and waved for Rezkin to
go ahead. Rezkin nodded acceptance and stepped before the attendant who was now
flanked by a couple of additional attendants. Rezkin noticed how others moved
in with curiosity but kept a wary distance. A number of people who had been
milling about the registration area were now within listening range, and
several guards had stepped forward sensing the threat. Although more people
were gathering, everyone remained as far back as possible, so long as each was
still able to hear.

 The registration attendant swallowed noticeably as he
looked up into the black voids that were the dark warrior’s eyes. “Ah…I-In
which competition do you wish to c-c-compete?”

“Main and melee,” the dark warrior replied.

The small, balding man rifled through the parchments and
selected the one labeled “
Melee
.”

“And, in which tier will you compete for the main duel?” the
attendant asked.

“The Fifth,” came the dark and unnatural bass response.

The attendant’s lips pursed in an ‘o’ as several of the
people around him stepped further back. After flipping through his parchments
to the appropriate list, the man asked, “Your kingdom and city of origin?”

“Ashai,” the dark warrior stated.

The attendant paused, waiting for more information, but when
it was not forthcoming, he simply scribbled down the information. “A-And, your
name, m-my lord?”

“I wear the mask. I am called
Dark Tidings
,” he said
ominously.

A collective gasp sounded from the crowd, and Rezkin turned
his gaze to them as they shivered under his terrifying notice. Rezkin returned
his attention to the attendant as the man squirmed in his seat.

“T-The fee to enter the Fifth Tier Main Event is one hundred
gold, but it is only twenty gold to enter the Melee, since it is a new
competition. There will be a pre-trial to ensure appropriate placement. It is
just a formality…t-to make sure you are suited to the tier. You can pay after
you have passed the pre-trial,” the attendant said anxiously.

“When and where shall I undergo this trial?” the dark
warrior asked.

Everyone flinched. Although he had spoken several times
already, each time his voice registered anew in their minds. The effect was
surreal and unnerving, especially since those in the crowd did not understand
the source of their unease.

The attendant glanced at the two competitors who had
occupied the table before Rezkin’s arrival and then turned to look at the
attendants manning the booths beside him. Everyone simply nodded to the
unspoken question, and the man said, “You may go in immediately. Pass through
this portico, here, and report to the man with the red band around his arm. I
am not sure who is on duty at the moment, but it will be a Swordmaster who has
previously ranked highly in the Fifth Tier competition. You are not competing
to win, only to prove that you belong in the Fifth Tier.” The man took in
Rezkin’s formidable presence once again and added, “We, ah, hope to avoid any
serious injuries during the pre-trial.”

Rezkin nodded once, inclined his head slightly to the
competitors who had conceded their place in line, and then marched with an
imperial swagger through the portico. He was not alone, though. The majority of
the crowd who were not preoccupied with duties followed in his wake. Normally,
Rezkin would scorn such attention, but this was the reason he was competing in
the tournament, so he suffered it willingly.

The arena was filled with groups of people testing for their
places in the tiers. The evaluators and aids for each tier wore different
colored bands, so he had no difficulty finding his place. A swordsman with a
red armband was conducting a trial for a group of three individuals. As Rezkin
passed the groups of blue and yellow competitors, their eyes turned from
evaluating their opponents to watching the black wraith pass through the arena.

Rezkin stopped several paces from the dueling official and
his opponent and waited to be called forth. The official’s back was to the mysterious
warrior so the man could not see what was causing such commotion, but the
competitor had full view and lost his focus for a moment when Rezkin
approached. The unfortunate man took a shallow slash to the arm. Rezkin did not
feel any compassion for the competitor, however. As a Fifth Tier hopeful, he
should be able to maintain focus when faced with the unexpected. The man
quickly recovered and finished his trial, and the official granted him a strip
of red cloth to tie around his left bicep.

The official turned and noted Rezkin’s presence without a
flinch, although his eyes lay heavily on the warrior’s mask for several
moments. The man also noted the gathering crowd in the closest stands and those
that had followed the strange competitor into the arena. Finally, he turned
back to the next competitor and waved the man forward. The ostentatious man was
in his early thirties, and he strode boldly with raised chin and a disdainful
sneer. His bearing asserted a refusal to be to be intimidated by some lark in a
mask; yet, the man seemed unwilling to meet the dark warrior’s hollow eyes.

The competitor introduced himself as Lord Urterian, Marquis
of Shezeil, from the Kingdom of Jerea. Rezkin assumed the official had already
introduced himself when the other competitors arrived. The two exchanged blows
for several moments, and the interchange was impressive. Anyone hoping to
compete in the Fifth Tier had to be a Swordmaster or close to, but there were
many levels of skill, and not everyone was suited to the dueling style. True
battle was rough and dirty. Rezkin rarely had to exchange many blows with an
opponent because he always had the option to smash his opponent in the face
with his hilt or lob a throwing ax at the man.

Duels had strict guidelines for appropriate combat moves.
All strikes and blows were to be made with the sword blade, which meant he was
not permitted to punch, kick, trip or elbow his opponent when he had an
opening. While he could move in any direction by any method, he had to stay
within a defined boundary. Stepping outside of the boundary would incur one
point, a bleeding wound was worth one point, and being disarmed was an
automatic loss. The first person to receive three points was deemed the loser.
All of the points were compounded throughout the tournament to assist in
ranking the competitors and matching them with appropriate opponents.

A competitor’s score was determined by dividing the number
of total points accrued by the number of matches in which the competitor
fought. Each competitor’s name was carved into a plaque and hung from hooks
beneath a sign for his or her tier in the main hall. The competitor’s score
ratio was posted next to his or her name, and the listings were shifted
regularly so that the best competitors were posted toward the top.

Rezkin waited patiently as Lord Urterian finished his
pre-trial. In the end, the lord was awarded the red strip of fabric, but rather
than leaving the field, he stepped to the side to join the competitor who had
finished before him. The two exchanged pleasantries and laughed about how they
considered this to be a simple warm-up while the third man stepped forward to
complete his pre-trial.

The third man turned out to be a common soldier and
blacksmith named Aspion of Ludren, which was a province in the Kingdom of
Channería. The two other competitors chuckled when the man introduced himself.
Aspion ignored the tittering lords and drew his sword. By the end of Aspion’s
pre-trial, none were in doubt that he was a formidable opponent. His skill with
a blade was certainly masterful, and his years of working as a smith lent him
strength the other two could not hope to match with their undoubtedly lavish
lifestyles. Aspion, too, was awarded the red band of the Fifth Tier.

 The official turned and spoke loud enough for the new
arrivals to overhear. In the time Rezkin had been waiting, a line of five
others had formed behind him.

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