Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (57 page)

“Tieran, would you please retrieve the others so we may
depart quickly?” Rezkin requested, but the request did not leave room for a
rejection. Lord Tieran Nirius, the next Duke of Wellinven and perhaps the next
King of Ashai, trotted off to do the so-called Master Healer’s bidding. Stratus
was a military man, and he could recognize a warrior when he saw one. Whether
this man was a healer or not, he was most definitely a killer. Unlike most
people, Stratus was not fooled into thinking the man incompetent because he
carried two swords. On the contrary, he was nearly certain the man knew how to
use them and use them well.

Stratus might have accepted that this man was the duke’s
Captain of the Guard, accompanying his charge at the tournament, except that he
was far too young to be a captain, and captains did not give orders to dukes.
In addition, Stratus had met the duke’s Captain of the Guard, Urius Sedt, at
one of the tournament functions. Had the political climate become so dire that
the duke needed a secret personal guard for his son, one so thoroughly trained
in medicine that he could combat random poisonings? This was something Stratus
certainly wanted nothing to do with, but he was afraid this incident might have
drawn him in regardless.

Everyone but Wesson headed over to the other arena in hopes
of catching Jimson and Palis’s matches. The mage stayed behind in support of
Waylen who had not yet competed that morning. By the time the companions
arrived and found seating, Jimson was in his final match. While he won the
bout, Jimson knew he had acquired enough points to put him out of the running
for the next round. Still, he performed better than he expected, largely thanks
to Rezkin and Kai’s tutelage.

Palis’s performance impressed his friends. He was younger
than Malcius at twenty-two, but his dedication to the sport showed. Not only
did he defeat his opponents with few points accrued, he did so with grace and
poise. He incorporated a few unusual techniques that even the other competitors
appreciated. Palis truly saw dueling as an art form and sought to emulate the
beautiful, fluid dance he admired so much when he witnessed Rezkin’s first
demonstration. In the end, Palis had impressed the crowd and secured a place in
the next round of the competition.

Following Palis’s success, everyone was more than excited,
but not just because the Jebai brothers had done so well in the competition.
That afternoon, the tournament was to see the opening bouts of the Melee
competition. While everyone in attendance was eager to witness the new and
exciting spectacle, whispers of
Dark Tidings
were on nearly every set of
lips. Everyone knew the dark wraith would be competing in the Melee, and
everyone was eager to see if he could live up to his namesake.

Only half of the Melee competitors would have the
opportunity to compete on the first day, and the other half were to compete the
following morning. The matchups were chosen randomly, and
Dark Tidings
had been assigned to the first lot. No other competitions were being held
during the Melee, and Rezkin had not been able to come up with a decent excuse
to get out of watching the event with his friends. At the very least, he knew
Frisha would make a big deal when he told her he would not be staying to watch
the round. In this, he had to leave it to the others to make his excuses for
him.

It was less than two hours until the Melee began, and the
stands were already filling with curious spectators. The group moved together
to claim better seating that could fit them all once everyone arrived. Because
no one wanted to be stuck out of the arena when the tournament began, the
traveling companions had brought their own food to snack on while they waited.
For more than one reason, Tieran opted to enjoy the show with his friends rather
than in the company of the higher nobles and dignitaries in the reserved
section. None of his lackeys from Kaibain had the skill or ambition to attend
the tournament, and he had no desire to sit beside Hespion or Duke Ytrevius.
Rezkin saw this as a marked improvement in the young man’s character. Before
their voyage, the duke’s son would have scoffed at the idea of sitting amongst
the masses. Still, several of Tieran’s guards were not far from him at any
time.

Once everyone was seated and satisfied that they would have
a good view of the competitors, Frisha turned and looped an arm around Rezkin’s
and asked, “Isn’t it exciting, Rez? I can’t wait to see this Dark Tidings that
everyone has been talking about. It will be even better because you will be here
to tell us all about the different weapons and cultures of the competitors
we’ll be seeing.”

“I am sure it is quite exciting, but I am afraid I will not
be joining you to watch the competition. I have duties to which I must attend,”
Rezkin replied, attempting to seed his voice with disappointment.

“What? What duties could you possibly have to attend to
now
?
The whole city is focused on the tournament, and everyone wants to see this
event,” the young woman protested.

Rezkin opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by
Palis. “Frisha, you know Rezkin has responsibilities to his liege, and that
particular man is competing in this competition. Obviously, he must tend to his
duties.” Just as Rezkin had hoped, Palis provided him with an excuse that might
have seemed suspicious if the young warrior had said so himself.

 “What are you talking about? What liege? You mean
– …” The young woman’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You mean
he’s
here
? He’s competing in the Melee? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She asked
as she scowled at Palis and Tam, who was sitting beside her.

Palis shrugged and said, “Malcius told us this morning. I
figured you knew.” This last he said with a nod toward Rezkin.

Frisha huffed. “
Gah
, you know he doesn’t tell me
anything. Who is he?”

“Seriously, Frisha?” Tam exclaimed. “Do you really need to
ask?”

“I apologize for not telling you, Frisha. Some information
finds its way out whether I wish it or not,” the young warrior said with an
accusatory glance at Malcius.

Malcius frowned and said, “They had to know, Rezkin. They
would have gotten themselves in trouble looking for him otherwise.”

“Yes, yes, I know, Malcius. I knew you would tell them as
soon as you had the opportunity. I simply did not consider spreading the word
myself,” Rezkin conceded.

“Should you not be going then?” Tieran pressed.

Rezkin shook his head and said, “I will stay and partake of
the midday repast with you and then be gone.”

“But, does
he
not need to prepare ahead of time?
There is little more than an hour before the round begins,” the young lord
protested.

The warrior shrugged and said, “He is always prepared to
fight. What little preparation is required will not take long. He wishes to be
seen as little as possible before the round begins.”

Malcius shook his head and said, “I cannot see how anyone
can compete without first preparing. I had to get here a couple of hours early
to warm up and calm my nerves.”

“That is because you are a duelist, a competitor of sport,
Malcius. A true warrior is prepared to fight at all times. It matters not
whether it occurs in an arena or a battlefield. At least in this venue there is
far less chance of dying. If anything, this is like a warm up,” Rezkin
remarked.

Malcius’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “This is the
King’s
Tournament
, Rezkin. These are the best fighters in all the land. It is
nothing like a warm up.”

Rezkin shrugged. The group chatted about the duels they had
seen and about other competitors for a while. Eventually, Baron Fendendril,
Waylen, and Wesson joined their clique. Waylen had performed well, but he had
not scored low enough to move on to the next round. With little time to spare,
Rezkin excused himself and left the arena. Getting out was made difficult by
the incoming flow of the crowd. Even without his dark disguise, though, his
confident bearing and purposeful stride encouraged patrons to part before him.

Once he reached the buildings across the open square, a
shadowy figure slipped from a dark recess. The hunched and tattered figure
swayed to one side before regaining his footing and making his way toward the
young warrior. As the broken vagabond passed, Rezkin snatched the large, heavy
satchel clutched in his vassal’s strong grip. Rezkin ducked into an empty hovel
that backed up to an abandoned bottler’s shop. The room was dark and a few
broken bottles were scattered across the floor, but it was otherwise empty.

The warrior donned his shadowy disguise and stuffed his
other clothes into the sack. The beggar man that was Kai met him at the door
and nodded his approval. Kai reclaimed the sack and handed Rezkin his weapons.
The black blade was strapped across his back while the two su’carai hung at
either hip. The su’carai had no sheathes of their own, but leather flaps
strapped to his belt fell over the top curves of the blades so he would not
slice himself every time he lowered his hands.

The striker looked him over once more to make sure
everything was in place. The inky black of his visage was only relieved by the
silvery glint of buckles and weapons, the colorful assortment of braids, the
red ribbon about his arm and the green one upon his scabbard that matched the
green lightning bolt panels of his tabard. By now, everyone had probably heard
of his unusual sword and knew it had been checked. Likewise, everyone knew
about
him
, but he was required to wear the ribbons regardless.

Just before they parted, Kai reached over and plucked a
weapon from behind the door. It was called a naginata and was made of a wooden
pole like a spear, but at the end was a long, single-edged blade that curved
slightly at the tip. The pole and blade were both black as coal. Rezkin looked
at the striker curiously, but the man just shrugged and said, “You never know.”

The two warriors went their separate ways. Kai was avoiding
the notice of the strikers while he provided surveillance and could serve as a
distraction if necessary. Rezkin swept through a few alleys and bounded over
fences and walls to come out on a street at the other side of the square. His
approach of the arena did not go unnoticed. The strikers on watch were once
again flummoxed as to how he had approached so close to the arena without being
seen. Thus far, they only knew that the mysterious competitor seemed to appear
from nowhere upon arrival and vanish into the shadows upon leaving. They did
not know he was actively avoiding their pursuit, for they did not know he was
even aware of their presence or interest.

A wave of excitement ran through the crowd, but they parted
and ran from Dark Tiding’s path as though he might snatch their souls if they
came too close. As he exited the portico onto the field, the volume of the
crowd surged. It was not a cheer, for they did not yet know him. It was the
simple exchange of exuberant outbursts, contagious rumors and groundless
speculation. Rezkin stalked to one side of the arena and then stood at
attention. It was not the uncomfortable, unnatural attention of a soldier in
lineup. It was the attention of a warrior poised to strike at any moment. One
hand gripped the naginata while the other rested lightly at his side where he
could draw his su’carai without hesitation. Once in position, he became as a
statue and did not move. If not for his cloak billowing in the slight breeze,
one might have mistaken him for some gothic sentinel carved from obsidian.

Frisha squealed when she saw the infamous
Dark Tidings
stride into the arena. By now, she had been informed that this man was the True
King and that Rezkin served him, but she could not help the thrill of
excitement that ran through her. It was the kind of excitement that surged when
one was confronted with sudden danger but felt secure in one’s survival.

“Look Tam! It’s your hero! He’s come to life. Aren’t you
excited?” Frisha prodded as she shook his arm.

“I am not certain that the Shadow Knight could be considered
a hero, Frisha. He
is
an assassin, after all,” Tam argued.

“I know, but he was always your favorite character. I
suppose he’s more of an anti-hero or something,” Frisha mused.

A shiver ran through Tam as he looked upon the dark visage.
Even though he knew it was Rezkin and had even helped create the guise, the
image was so alien and demented that he could not help but feel an anxious
thrill. “He certainly is most imposing,” the young man remarked.

“More like terrifying,” Frisha replied.

Palis, Brandt and Waylen were whispering and motioning
animatedly toward the dark warrior. Malcius cast several warning looks in their
direction, and eventually they settled down.

“I, for one, cannot wait to see his skill,” the eldest Jebai
remarked. “Rez says the man is his equal, but I find it difficult to believe
there could be two men with such talent. Sometimes I feel like we are all just
children playing with toys in Rezkin’s presence.”

“True,” said Tieran, “but he is still just a man. No man is
unbeatable.” Tieran swallowed hard as he thought back to his almost poisoning
and understood how easy it was to die.

“A man, really? More like a demon,” said Malcius with a hint
of derision.

A demon
? Tieran remembered a time not long ago when he
had referred to Rezkin with the same term. He could not argue the point.

Malcius continued, “With everything that is happening,” he
said vaguely, “I know how things must be, but I cannot help but desire some
proof that he is worthy. Perhaps it is because in him, I find hope. It would be
devastating if he were to disappoint. The man simply
must
live up to his
reputation.”

“What reputation is that?” Palis interjected. “No one knows
of him! All this secrecy has prevented the spread of the
truth
.”

Malcius abruptly reached out and grabbed Palis by the nape,
dragging him close as he leaned in and gritted out in a low hiss, “A truth that
will get you killed! Mind your words, Palis.”

Palis rubbed his neck and scowled but had the decency to
look chastened. He nodded and then went back to watching the competitors gather
around the perimeter of the field. All of the competitors participating in that
afternoon’s event were expected to show up at the beginning of the round and
stand to the side before and after their matches until the entire round was
completed. The other participants all seemed to shy away from Dark Tidings,
although one man made a point of greeting him. Palis could not remember the
man’s name, but Brandt reminded him that this was Aspion of Ludren, the
commoner blacksmith from Channería who
Dark Tidings had sponsored for the Fifth Tier competition. The
thirty-something-year-old carried a massive war hammer at his side.

Palis’s brows rose at the sight of the weapon, and he began
to realize the eminent danger. Glancing around, he pointed out to the others
that three times as many healers were on the field than there were during the
dueling competition. Some competitors sported smaller weapons like knives,
katari, and a couple of strange claw-like apparatuses with multiple blades. The
companions made a note to ask Rezkin about those later, because surely he would
know. Others hefted massive armaments such as battle-axes, spears, scythes, and
one beast even carried a halberd. Several of the competitors hefted shields, as
well, which were permitted for this competition. Participants could use any
number and variety of weapons they could carry as long as the weapons were not
thrown. Ranged weapons were not permitted.