The Cavalier (21 page)

The one thing that really caught Jonas’s eye was the massive painting behind the throne. It was easily fifteen paces wide and ten paces high, covering the entire back wall. It was an impressive painting depicting an armored warrior on a battlefield facing another warrior who wore all black plate armor. They rode huge, muscle bound horses, and carried glowing swords clashing together in combat. It looked so real that Jonas couldn’t take his eyes off it as he walked down the short hallway to the conference table.

At the front end of the table sat King Gavinsteal. He was an enormous man, built like an oak tree, his barrel chest and thick shoulders giving him a formidable look. His long hair fell to his shoulders and at the top it was pulled back and tied behind his head. His dark beard was trimmed perfectly. The king’s hair was streaked with the silver of age but to Jonas he still looked like a warrior in his prime. He wore a blue tunic embroidered in silver thread with the glittering symbol of the fist in front of a sun. His belt was thick and well worn, carrying a jeweled broad sword swinging gently as he stood to greet his guests. His tanned face was worn and looked like old leather, but his smile was welcoming.

“Ah, Landon, my friend, it is good to see you,” the king said in a booming voice. King Gavinsteal stepped around the table to shake hands with the merchant.

Jonas noticed that the others stood at their arrival. He saw two men that were obviously soldiers for they carried themselves as such, wearing swords and bright chain mail shirts under their tunics. One man was middle-aged, with long dark hair and a thick massive frame like the king’s. He wore a green tunic over his chain mail shirt that was embroidered with the same symbol. Jonas learned that this was Prince Baylin, the eldest of King Gavinsteal’s sons and first in line for the throne. He looked just like his father.

The younger warrior was Prince Nelstrom, the king’s youngest son. He was taller and thinner, but still laced with muscle. His strong shoulders and chest held up a black tunic that also had the Finarthian mark. He crossed his muscled forearms and Jonas saw the Finarthian symbol clearly on his right hand. This was the master swordsman that Cyn had mentioned. The man looked hard, like carved stone, and he did not smile, glancing at Fil and Jonas with undisguised disdain.

The other two men were high priests. They wore long robes of fine quality. Each one was made from soft fabric lined with silver thread that flowed around their bodies when they stood up in greeting. Androg was the eldest priest. He had gray hair and skin that hung loosely from his thin face. He wore a silver chain around his neck that carried the four pointed symbol of the High One. Manlin was younger, but his dark hair was still peppered heavily with gray and his weathered face showed signs of aging. What caught Jonas’s attention, however, was the silver chain he wore around his neck. It carried a blue and silver symbol that looked almost exactly like the one on his chest. This man must be a priest of Shyann.

Jonas unconsciously rubbed his chest as they approached the king nervously.

“It is good to see you, King Gavinsteal. I thank you for your hospitality, and for the healing.” Landon and the king shook hands like old friends.

“Anytime my friend,” replied the king glancing at Fil and Jonas. “So these are the two reasons for this meeting? Welcome to Finarth, I am King Uthrayne Gavinsteal.”

Fil and Jonas both bowed awkwardly, not sure what else to do.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you. My name is Jonas Kanrene,” Jonas said, his voice breaking slightly.

“My name is Fil Tanrey and I thank you for your hospitality, King Gavinsteal.” Smiling, the king introduced the others at the table who nodded their heads in greeting. “Come, have a seat at the table and let’s hear this important news,” the king commanded, moving to the head of the table.

They all sat down and Jonas continued to stare at the huge painting on the wall in front of them. He had to look back and forth to take in the colossal piece of art.

“You like my painting, young Jonas?” the king asked.

“Yes, Your Highness. It is magnificent. I have never seen anything like it.”

“I should hope not,” the king said, turning to glance at the painting himself. He looked back at Jonas. “Do you know what that picture represents?”

“No, sir, I do not. It looks like a battle.”

“Indeed it is, but not just any battle. That painting represents the great battle at the Shadow Plains over a thousand years ago. The two warriors that you see are Malbeck, the Dark One himself, and my great ancestor, King Ullis, who slew him in combat. The battle against the evil that was fought on that day destroyed the battlefield forever. Even today nothing grows there, hence the name Shadow Plains. No one really knows why, but some suggest that when my ancestor killed the Dark One his evil was released, staining the ground and killing it forever. This sword that I carry is a replica of the very weapon that killed him.”

Standing, the king drew the dazzling weapon holding it so Jonas could see. It was a huge broadsword, beautifully crafted and each end of the cross piece was gold carved into eagle claws. Each claw was holding a sparkling round stone polished milky white. The hilt was wrapped in silver and the end piece was carved into a fist in front of the sun. The long silver blade bore no mars or imperfections and it looked like it had never been used. The king held the long heavy weapon with ease. “This weapon was forged by the dwarves and imbued with magic by the priests of Ulren. It is not the same blade of course, but it is very powerful.”

“It is beautiful, Your Highness,” Fil said, eyes wide with wonder.
 

“What happened to the actual sword that killed the Dark One?” Jonas asked.

“No one knows exactly. Legend says that when King Ullis defeated the Dark One, there was a huge explosion that killed many men, including my great ancestor. The sword and armor were nowhere to be found.”

“Come, Father, let us get to business. I have pressing matters to attend to,” Prince Nelstrom interrupted curtly.

The king eyed his son, and Jonas did not miss the animosity between the two. “Very well,” the king said, sheathing his sword. “Landon, my friend, please tell us this urgent news.”

The far door opened again and everyone turned to see a soldier escort Allindrian into the room. Her long forest green tunic flowed at her sides as she walked confidently to the table. She sat down and greeted everyone with a smile.

“It is good to see you, King Gavinsteal. I’m sorry I am late.” Allindrian gave a slight bow as she addressed the king.

The king returned the gesture with a warm smile. “Blade Singer, you are always welcome at my table, both for your skill and for your beauty.”

Allindrian smiled unabashedly at the king, enjoying his praise.

“You know my sons, Prince Baylin and Prince Nelstrom. This is Androg, high priest to Ulren and this is Manlin, high priest to Shyann.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you both and good to see you again, Prince Baylin,” Allindrian smiled warmly at the burly man who returned her smile. “And you, Prince Nelstrom, I’m glad you are well,” Allindrian added, her smile disappearing along with her warmth.

“Landon, if you will,” urged the king.

“I have dire news. It is reported by these two young men that Airos the cavalier was slain by a Banthra,” Landon said bluntly.

The room fell quiet as the sobering news hit home.

“That cannot be!” exclaimed Androg with dismay. “He was a first rank cavalier! The best there was! How can this be?”

“Jonas, show them the blade,” urged Landon with a nod.

Jonas took out the knife from under his tunic, unsheathed the silver blade, and laid it on the table.

“Where did you get that?” stormed Androg.

“Androg, calm down,” Prince Baylin admonished. “These two boys are not thieves or they never would have come here.” He turned to Jonas. “Go ahead, son, tell us where you obtained the weapon, for that is most definitely Airos’s blade.” The prince had an aura of power and confidence, combined with a sense of dignity and honor. Jonas liked him immediately.
 

Jonas looked around the room and hesitantly began his tale. “Our village was attacked by boargs over three months ago. The force was led by a Banthra,” Jonas said, choking on the word.

“A Banthra?” Manlin interrupted. “I don’t believe it. They were all destroyed a thousand years ago.”

Jonas ignored the comment and continued. “Airos came the night before the attack to help us.
 
He battled the Banthra and killed it, but he died in the process. Their bodies were both burned and fused together in death. I found Airos’s knife next to the remains.”

Fil interjected. “It is true, your highness. I fought with my family and friends and saw it with my own eyes. Everyone was killed except for Jonas and me.”

“I am sorry for your loss. This is indeed grave news. If a Banthra is back then the rumors we’ve heard of Malbeck’s return may indeed be true,” the king said thoughtfully.

“How is it that your entire village was killed but two young boys survived?” asked Prince Nelstrom, his tone hard and without compassion.

“Nelstrom, they have suffered greatly and they do not need your accusing comments,” Prince Baylin said to his brother. Nelstrom narrowed his eyes at his older brother but said nothing.

“That is not all. There is other news that Jonas must tell. Go ahead, tell them the rest,” Allindrian urged.

Jonas, looking at Allindrian, took a deep breath, and told them the rest of the story. He told them everything just as he had disclosed to Landon’s men that night after the fight with the boargs.

Everyone at the table listened intently and when he explained the part about his dream and his God Mark their eyes widened with fascination and disbelief. He ended his story with the last battle with the boargs and the destruction of the cleric of Naz-reen.

“That is quite a story, young man. Can you show me this mark?” asked the king. Jonas looked at Allindrian and Landon, both of them nodding their heads urging him to proceed. He stood up, lifting his tunic over his head. Everyone gasped and the two priests stood up in astonishment.

“I can’t believe it!” said Manlin, moving closer to Jonas to inspect the mark. “Unbelievable. That is indeed a God Mark and Shyann’s symbol.”

Androg was looking at the mark closely. “I agree. It is incredible. It is indeed her mark,” he said.

Jonas felt strange standing there, his chest bare to all, being inspected by the others.

“I have never heard of anyone being God Marked unless they were a cavalier,” the King said in wonder.

“Nor have I,” added Manlin. “Shyann
has
marked this young man, but for what reason?”

“To become a cavalier I should think. She has expressed her interest in this young man and even warned him of danger twice, saving the lives of Landon’s men. He must go to Annure to train,” Prince Baylin announced.

“He is too young. They will not accept a candidate unless they are eighteen years of age,” argued Androg. “Besides, he may not even pass the acceptance tests.”

“Shyann has accepted him already, why would he not pass?” Alindrian said bluntly. “Jonas, tell the priests what Airos told you.”

“You spoke to Airos?” asked Manlin.

“Yes, I was walking home and I slipped. I could not walk very well and I used a crutch and he helped me up and we talked briefly”.

“What did he say to you?” Manlin asked.

“He said that my soul was pure, and that I should be very proud because that was so rare. I don’t know what he meant but he said he could see into the hearts of men.”

“He said that to you? Those words exactly?” asked Androg.

“Yes. I am sure.”

“As you can see by his story, he has the character to be a cavalier,” stated Allindrian smoothly. “He has fought and killed boargs, an ogre, and a cleric of Naz-reen. I believe he has shown that he has the courage to be a great warrior, the skills will come later. I suggest, good king, that you allow these two men to join your army so that you can train them and keep an eye on Jonas. When Jonas turns eighteen he should go to Annure and train to become a cavalier.”

“Watch him? What do you mean by that?” asked Prince Nelstrom.

“If Shyann has expressed an interest in this young man, then that will also draw the attention of Gould, including Naz-reen and Dykreel,” replied Allindrian. “A pure soul is like a beacon to the Forsworn, it will bring them to him like flies on a corpse. I’m afraid he will need protection.”

The men at the table crossed their chests at the mention of the Forsworn. Jonas processed her words for the first time. She was right. The thought of being hunted by the evil ones was more frightening than he could imagine. His heart began to beat faster as he contemplated the danger he was in as well as the danger he could bring to others.

“You are quite right, Blade Singer. I hadn’t thought of that,” the king said, standing and walking up the stairs to his throne. He sat down in thought.

Fil looked at Jonas, unsure of what to do. Jonas put his tunic back on and sat down in nervous silence.

“Young men, what are your thoughts on this matter? We are talking about your welfare and yet we have not asked you your own desires.” The king’s strong voice resonated throughout the hall.