Champions of the Apocalypse (5 page)

Ulric cried out as he timed it beautifully and as Synne stepped within inches of his side he brought his two-handed sword down onto Synne’s exposed shoulder and dropped her to the floor. As she dropped down, Ulric swung his sword up so that his left hand rested on its flat part, about half way down its blade. He placed the point on Synne’s flank and pushed just enough that she could feel the tip.

“Okay, I know, you beat me...again!” said a slightly irate Synne.

The two stopped and Synne lay there groaning, more in annoyance than pain. She nursed her shoulder and made to stand up before her ankle sent pangs though her body. She stayed for a few seconds more before starting to laugh.

“You never give me a break, you know that, right?”

Ulric sighed as he slumped down to sit next to his sister. He dropped the wooden sword to the ground and pulled over a tankard that was half-full of warm but clean water. The two drank their full and wiped away the sweat.

“I never give you a break because I want you to live. A dead sister will upset father!” he laughed.

Ulric took another sip from the water.

“Seriously though, I know you will be a great swordsman. If I let you strike me, all I will prove is that I cannot be bothered to make you better. When you face an enemy for the first time, he will not stop until you are beaten. It is my job, sister, mine alone, to make sure you and the rest of our warriors are trained and ready to fight and ready to win.”

Synne looked pained to hear the words and Ulric could easily see his sister was belittled by what he had said. Knowing he couldn’t go back on what was a simple truth, he moved to a different topic.

“Father said you have been working on a single sword section in the library, some kind of big knife?”

Synne looked at him, thinking for a moment before the images of the book popped into her head and her enthusiasm for this new knowledge, could no longer be contained.

“Yes, in the one section of this book there are sequences that describe using a weapon that is similar in shape to this wooden sword, the Ancients called it a Grosse Messer,” she said as she raised the battered wooden training sword.

“Can you show me?”

“The book? It is in the library.”

“No, some of the techniques, if you can remember any?” he asked with a smirk.

Synne lifted herself up from the ground, walked over to the rack of training equipment and took out another single-handed sword. She moved with a slight limp but as she returned, it appeared to be easing, much to the relief of Ulric. Synne handed the wooden sword to her brother and then took a step back.

“Okay, the first one I have been reading is a technique to remove the hand,” she explained.

“How convenient, show me and perhaps if it works you might use it next time we spar?”

Synne faced him, with her weapon held low and behind her.

“Funny, brother! Ok, now if you strike down to my head.”

Ulric stepped forward with his right leg and cut downwards in a fast arc that reached towards Synne. With an almost panicked movement, Synne brought her rear leg forwards and out to the right, and simultaneously cut upwards and into Ulric’s wrist. It was a light cut, but it still made Ulric groan and he dropped the training sword and his hand went numb. Synne then stepped to the side and delivered a second light cut to Ulric’s neck.

“Hey, easy now, little sister. Ouch, you got my wrist well and good there,” he said as he shook his hand.

Synne’s pleasure at seeing the technique work turned to concern at the injury she seemed to have caused.

“Are you okay?”

“Not a problem, just a bit numb.”

Ulric picked up the wooden sword in his left hand and mimicked the upwards cut that Synne had just used.

“Excellent, this is a simple but effective technique. Show me another?” he asked, obviously impressed.

“Ok, you do the same and attack my head.”

The two stood in the same start positions but this time Synne didn’t move her feet. As the blade came down Synne lifted her sword so that it pushed up in a horizontal parry. He caught the blade and the impact forced his own sword down. Without pausing she then stepped out to the side, twisted the weapon around and struck Ulric with the back edge of the blade in his neck.

“Nice, very nice!” he shouted whilst nursing the red mark on his neck.

“In the manual it is called a Bogen and it seems to work with lots of weapons.”

Ulric examined the wooden weapons and tried the movements on both sides. His movement was fluid and precise, and in seconds he was able to see the tactical benefits of the techniques. He stopped and moved back to his sister.

“You’ve been saying this for a long time now and you are right, the Ancients knew a thing or two about combat. I look forward to seeing more of these techniques. One thing intrigues me even more though. You think these manuals are very, very old. Don’t you?”

“Well, the books themselves are old, but I have a theory that some of the material could be up to a thousand years old. There are definite patterns in clothing and some have dates, which makes things a little easier.”

“Okay, so let’s assume that this book, well, I mean the illustrations, let’s say, at least five hundred years old. Did they learn anything else than we know of?”

“Well, don’t forget that I have a theory about this event that happened about three hundred years ago,” started Synne, before being halted by Ulric raising his hand.

“I know, your big event that you keep talking about. I’m sure you’re right, sister, there is plenty of evidence of there being all kinds of things in the past, but now little remains of it. Whether it was just time, or something happened, I doubt we will ever know. Whatever it was, it destroyed most of what was here. For now, I would like to get an idea about the peak of knowledge, tools and fighting skills.”

“I understand Ulric, you want to know about magic weapons and the perfect techniques!” laughed Synne.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no, now would I? But seriously, I would like to know if these armours, weapons and training were the peak of their knowledge. We have come across machines that no longer work and even some have weapons that use chemicals to launch projectiles. Have you come across anything that refers to these yet?”

The two stood and Synne beckoned to the library. They started to move away though both appeared worn out from their sparring.

“I might have one book of interest to you, it is one of the few I have in colour and is about someone called Nelson.”

“Nelson? That is an odd name, for a man I assume?” asked Ulric.

They moved past a workshop where three men were busy working on forging metal parts. The din of tools striking metal reverberated from inside.

“Well, the book I have is only in fragments but it describes great battles on the oceans between two kingdoms. If the text is accurate they travelled in craft that carried hundreds of men,” she said emphasising the word hundreds.

“The greatest battle they fought included about eighty of these vessels and thousands of men. Apparently, over ten thousand died in the battle. Even more interesting is, these ships…” she said as Ulric cut her off.

“Ships?”

“Oh, the best I can tell is that a ship was a larger version of a boat, designed to travel long distances.”

Ulric nodded, though his raised eyebrow implied he was less than convinced.

“Anyway, these ships carried weapons called cannons. I’ve been making sketches of them but they seem very simple. A special powder that flashes is pushed down them, then a large metal ball is jammed down. When the powder is burned, it shoots the metal ball out like a crossbow bolt. Some of these ships had over a hundred of these cannon, as they were bigger than a man.”

Ulric stopped and placed his hand on Synne’s shoulder.

“Sister, I know you have done much research but don’t get too confused between adventures and stories and facts. Surely if these things existed we would have found them by now?”

Synne turned her head in disagreement.

“How? We cannot travel too far to the North and the Wastelands surround much of the lands of the League. Anybody that has travelled beyond the markers has either disappeared or come back with terrible conditions and illnesses. When have you ever seen a piece of water that could take a vessel with hundreds of men? Believe me, brother, if you travelled past the Wastelands you would find great stretches of water,” she said in an exasperated tone.

Ulric simply smiled and the two continued their walk to the library. They walked up the short path to the large locked wooden door that led to the library’s valuable collection.

“I’m looking forward to seeing those armoured fighting manuals,” said Ulric as they walked through the darkened doorway.

“I bet you are,” replied a grinning Synne.

As they entered the room they were met by one of Lord Galan’s personal retainers, he bowed slightly at spotting them.

“I’ve been looking for you both. Lord Galan has called for you in the Great Hall.”

* * *

The main inhabited part of Haven had for the last forty years, been enclosed by a sturdy wooden palisade. Dotted along its length were a number of watchtowers as well as two main gates leading into the town. Both main gates were shut and protected by large wooden beams, that hung the width of the doors. The fortification had been required due to the increasing numbers of slavers and Raiders that appeared at intermittent periods throughout the year. Twice in the last decade, raiding parties had penetrated into the city and up to the palisade. Though none had ever gone further, it was a good reason why Haven needed such defences.

The walls would not protect the farms and workshops that lay outside of the main town, however but they did provide a defensive refuge behind which the warriors and citizens could put up a stiff resistance. The most important buildings such as the library, armoury, granary, treasury and the Great Hall were all deep behind the high walls.

This time however it was late at night and a small group of Raiders had made it deep inside Lord Galan’s lands and were approaching the town. These men were covered from head to toe in long, dark robes that masked their shapes and made them almost impossible to see in the darkness.

As they reached the palisade, they ducked down into the undergrowth and watched the towers and gate for signs of the ever-present town guards. From their position, it was clear that only one man was present at the gate and another two stood watch at the towers. The taller man in the group gave a signal and each of the men raised a large wood and metal crossbow, each loaded with a wooden dart, tipped with steel. There were eight Raiders and between them, they had more than enough shots to remove the guards. With a flick of his hand, the leader gave the signal. Four of the men pulled the long triggers and released the almost silent bolts. The first two struck the man at the gate, one bolt embedding in the man’s shoulder whilst the second hit him in the centre of the forehead. He disappeared inside the fortified town with a thud. The next two bolts neatly disposed of the two tower guards and the route was now clear.

The leader moved slowly forward until he had reached the palisade. The wooden barricade was almost twenty feet high but this was no problem for him as he had come prepared. From his bag, he removed a grapple and with three swings hurled it up and over the crest. In seconds he was climbing the wall and at the top. Before he disappeared inside he gave a hand signal to the others waiting at the bottom. They moved into position at the gate, ready to rush inside the minute the door was open.

* * *

“I’ve had word from the League that our border operations in the North against the Raiders are achieving great results. Our combined efforts with the Brotherhood have cleared an area of almost thirty miles,” explained Lord Galan.

His two children and a dozen other warriors were sitting around the long table in the Great Hall. Of the group of warriors most were in their thirties or older and two were woman, all experienced and all veterans of battle with the Raiders. As always, Galan’s mute bodyguard stood nearby, ever vigilant and ever quiet. Each of the warriors wore their armour even though they were in the safety of the Hall. A breastplate and helmet were the basic equipment each warrior had to supply before they could start their training. In four stacks in the Hall, there stood a number of spears, axes and swords, whilst their shields hung on the walls.

“Ulric, can you provide us with an update?” asked Galan.