Champions of the Apocalypse (2 page)

What really caught Synne’s eye though, was the lavish detail on the armour and machines. These were not the simple works of a humble blacksmith but those of skilled craftsmen with expert knowledge on the shape and movement of the human figure. The machines were fanciful and she was excited when she saw what looked like a land ship, a wooden item covered in metal plating and pulled by armoured horses. On the sides of the machine were metal tubes with puffs of mist coming out of them.

“I’ve seen these before,” she muttered as she looked intently at the details.

She spent several more hours, pouring through the book, forgetting the rest of the titles sat patiently in the box before she noticed how dark it had become. Because of the gloom in the library she already had several lamps burning and had turned them up without giving the lateness of the day any consideration. It was time for her to go she could return and continue her work tomorrow. She closed the book carefully and ensured there were no naked flames anywhere in the library before stepping outside. As she opened the door, a chill wind crept in and sent a tingle through her body.

She closed the heavy wooden door behind her and locked it shut. Only she and Lord Galan carried keys for the library and if anybody was found to be in the room without them, they could expect a very heavy punishment. She walked the short distance from the library, where she had been working all day, to the inn. As she made her way along the path she thought about the exciting treasures she had seen and for a moment she was tempted to head back and read some more. Then she remembered, she had promised to meet her older brother Ulric today, primarily to discuss his training. She had not seen her brother for a week as he had been away, teaching at the League’s combat school that was over a day’s ride from their settlement. Her brother was one of the small numbers of warriors in the area and it was his job to protect the region from Raiders and slavers. The other members of the League knew that Haven was the strongest of their members and the teachings of its greatest warrior well appreciated. Some of the border regions were paid upkeep by the great Houses to provide small bands of militia to protect the fragile frontiers, and to occasionally provide troops when needed. Ulric often had to travel to help teach these people how to fight.

Although there were nearly a thousand people in Haven and five times that number in the farms, villages and lands nearby it was unable to afford more than a fifty full time warriors, the rest had to be provided by the militia or from other League forces. Every person that lived there was a mouth to feed and warriors contributed no food, trade or materials, even though their role was necessary and vital. That didn’t mean they neglected their defences though, every man or woman over the age of sixteen was shown how to use basic weapons and was expected to man the defences if the time required it, which it frequently did.

Ulric, and his companions spent their time travelling the borders improving their equipment or training the inhabitants of Haven and the other members in the basics of combat should it ever be required. As Synne wandered down the path she looked about at the city, the remnants of what she thought was probably a great settlement at sometime, perhaps even a major city to the Ancients. After all these years the old names had faded, the buildings had collapsed and little remained other than foundations and the odd relic usually taken away or stripped for its parts. These days the city was known as Haven. According to the old men that lived there it was named due to it being the first of the settlements to be reoccupied and rebuilt centuries ago, though many would dispute that or even that there ever was some great calamity at some point in the past. It was obvious that people had been here many years ago as some of the ruins on the outskirts and even some of the older buildings in Haven must be very old. Whatever the truth, the city of Haven was the most powerful, successful and peaceful of the settlements in the League and its warriors were renowned though the lands.

It had been dark for almost three hours and most of the inhabitants of city were indoors. The shadow of the ruined fortress loomed over the small number of buildings just as it must have done for hundreds of years. A flicker of light came from a few guard posts and a great orange glow came from the busiest part of the area, the old inn. Only a fraction of the city was occupied, the perimeter was a mixture of trees, bushes, and scrub that seemed to hide a bewildering array of low walls and outlines of what probably used to be buildings. The dusty paths between the ramshackle buildings were in poor condition and travel at night could be treacherous. Night-time in this part of the world was always a danger, and it was a time when everybody had to be on their guard. The open ground around the outpost could hide all manner of evil things and it frequently did.

As she approached the inn she placed her torch in the water bucket and then into the stand nearby. She opened the door and went inside.

“Synne, busy day?” asked the barman who was busily serving a customer.

Synne nodded and walked towards a table, moving past the half a dozen regulars. As she approached the table, a dark figure turned slightly to face her. Synne ignored the man and continued to her usual spot. As she moved a few more feet, the man at the table moved and either by accident or by plan, ended up striking Synne in the side. She stumbled a foot or two and then turned to face the man. She was unable to respond though, before the seated figure moved to stand towering over her. It was hard to make out the man’s full figure but as he stood it was clear he was a man of violence. He wore iron armour on his shoulders and chest and had specially fashioned vanguards and braces of either leather or thick rubber on his arms and legs.

“Excuse me,” said Synne and without hesitating continued onwards to her place.

As she moved to sit, a great booming voice echoed through the room.

“What do you mean, excuse me?” asked the giant, still standing and unmoving.

Synne lowered herself to her seat and ignored the man.

“I’m talking to you, little princess!” exclaimed the stranger.

“Then maybe you should go outside and find somebody else to annoy, Raider,” said a sarcastic voice.

A young man stepped into view and faced off against the stranger. He was one of the town’s newest warriors. The two looked at each other for several seconds, neither saying a word. A volley of laughter echoed through the warm room as the other patrons enjoyed the joke at the expense of the stranger. The barman placed a tankard of the locally made ale on the table and made his way discreetly back to the bar.

The laughter continued as the stranger walked slowly over to the table where Synne sat. As he reached just a few short feet away, the young man stepped ahead and blocked his way.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, I said you should go outside!”

“So, the girl has a child to protect her,” replied the stranger, as he lowered his right hand to his left hip and placed his hand on the hilt of something, obviously preparing to draw a weapon.

“Hey, I don’t want no trouble here. You know the rules, no violence in Haven,” said the barman, “on pain of death!” he added, almost for effect.

The stranger looked at the barman and then back to the people in the room. His hand still rested on the hilt of the weapon and he showed no sign of backing down.

“Do you know who I am?” he demanded.

The door to the inn opened and in walked two more men, both wearing similar clothing and armour to the stranger. On their chests, they wore a symbol of some kind and on their belts each carried a vicious looking blade.

“Cainon, Lord Galan is ready to see us, come on,” said one of them.

The stranger looked around the room and with a grunt he turned and left the inn. As he took several paces away from them, he released his hand on his weapon and appeared to relax a little. As he was about to close the door the younger man called out.

“Don’t bother coming back, you’re not welcome!” he said with a laugh.

The stranger turned just a few degrees so his head showed in profile against the low light. He looked inside for a brief moment and was gone. As the door shut, the younger man jumped down to sit in front of Synne.

“You are unwise to antagonise one of the Thirty, Peter,” said Synne as she took a sip from her drink.

“One of the Thirty, I thought that was a story used to frighten children. They don’t really exist,” replied the younger man.

“Peter. My brother says you are a good student and showing promise, you are not a warrior though, not yet. You know our military is small and like any of the other members of the League, can afford only a few dozen warriors and you have not even finished your training. You must learn to control yourself if you are to become one of my brother’s retainers. By antagonising Cainon, you once more show your lack of understanding and humility.”

“Understanding? All I saw were a few nomads who were trying to look tough and pushing their way around our lands. Do you have no pride? Don’t you care? I thought you were training in the arts as well?” asked the young man with a strong tone of scorn. “Your brother would fight!”

The door shut with a loud noise.

“Her brother would tell you exactly the same, student!” came a growl from the door.

“Ulric!” said Synne with a happy grin.

The gruff looking man strolled in, he was a good head taller than Synne and carried himself with the poise of a man that was used to commanding people.

“Cainon is one of the Brotherhood, the collection of nomadic tribes and bandits from the North East that controls half of the land here.”

He gestured with his hand for the young man to move out of the way. With a gap created, he sat down in front of Synne and winked at her before turning back to Peter.

“Most of their territory is in and around the Wastelands. We don’t know how they are able to survive there but somehow they do. Together the Brotherhood is the equal of the League, mainly because nobody else wants to live or travel anywhere near the Wastelands. They are a troublesome and very dangerous people. Luckily, they spend more time fighting amongst each other and fighting the Raiders from the mountains than worrying about us. They fought against us at the last Contest, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the rest of the League sided with us, they would have easily won. If they had won they would have led and this would probably lead to the League being dissolved or worse, open conflict between the League and the Brotherhood just like in the old days. As my sister has explained to you, your actions could cause trouble between us.”

“I understand, please accept my apologies. I didn’t realise it was quite as complicated as that,” said the young man as he stood up and left the space in front of Synne.

As he turned to move away, he stopped and turned to Ulric.

“If I might ask though, why do we follow these rules? Why don’t we fight and run our own affairs? The League is strong, maybe stronger than the Brotherhood.”

“Fight? You know this, have you never listened to my brother? If the Brotherhood was ever able to unite they would be a power more deadly than any of us could match,” exclaimed Synne.

Ulric moved a step closer to his student, looking intently into his eyes.

“There are few of the powerful Houses left now but the League stops any one becoming more powerful than the rest of them combined. This means the League is always able to exercise control over the members. At present, the members could just about match a united Brotherhood in battle, but for how long? What if one member, refused to fight? It was your attitude of war and conquest that led to the scouring of the land and the fall of many of the settlements here. The strongest of the remaining Houses made a decision five generations ago, that led to the first Battle of the Thirty to stop the never-ending war and to let the decision be made with the least blood spilt. You know this!” said Ulric.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’ve heard this story since I was a boy. When will there be the next Contest then?” he asked.

Synne sighed and looked at her brother in exasperation. Ulric looked at her, acknowledging her grin before turning to the youngster.

“If you listened half as much as you talked you would know the answer. A decision can only called for after a minimum of ten years or if the leader of any of the League members retires,” he said.

“Or dies,” added Synne.

“I still don’t understand though. What difference does it make who wins the Contest?” asked the young man.

“What difference?” exclaimed Ulric with alarming volume.

“Listen, the winner chooses the leader of for the alliance of the League and the Brotherhood from its own faction as well as the Captain of the combined armed forces of the Alliance. Basically the winner will lead until the next Contest is called. Imagine what it would be like if a clan or House like the Brotherhood ever won. They would lead and control the military,” explained Ulric.