Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (22 page)

“I believe I already had their respect without your
assistance
,”
Rezkin asserted. “Despite what you may think, I am capable of operating without
you. You have an agenda, Kai – an agenda with which I do not agree. That
is not why you are here, though. I have questions and expect you to answer
them.”

“And him?” Kai inquired.

“He is my
friend
and is now in my employ,” Rezkin
remarked.

“So he knows about you then? I am free to speak?” Kai asked.

“No, he is not yet informed, but you are free to answer my
questions. He has sworn his loyalty to me,” Rezkin answered.

“Loyalty but not fealty,” Kai huffed. Tam’s brows rose. Why
would he swear fealty to Rezkin? Perhaps his suspicions that Rezkin really was
a lord were true.

“That is
your
agenda, Kai, not mine. I do not ask for
fealty,” Rezkin said. “We will move on to my questions now. I want to know
about the strikers. You will tell me everything. How many are there?”

“I suppose it is your right to know, but I do not see that
it is
his
,” Kai said, nodding toward the other young man.

“That is for me to decide,” Rezkin asserted. If Kai wanted
to claim Rezkin as his king, then the young warrior would take advantage of the
situation. He needed information, and Kai was obliged to answer.

The older man grumbled but responded, “There are supposed to
be one hundred and fifty strikers at any one time. Occasionally, some are lost,
and it takes some time to replace them. Even more rarely, someone thought lost
returns, and we are in excess.”

“Where do they train? I already know their central
governance is not conducted in the palace. Where is their base?” Rezkin asked.

Kai narrowed his eyes suspiciously and remarked, “I thought
you said you trained with the strikers.”

Tam’s eyes darted to the young warrior. This was the first
he had heard of it, but it would make sense. Rezkin did say he was raised and
trained by men in a fort, and he
had
reached the rank of a Dual-Blade
Swordmaster.

“The place where I was trained was not their main training
facility nor their base of operations. Now, answer the question,” Rezkin
prodded.

Kai muttered something indistinguishable under his breath
and then answered, “The main training facility is called Goroleny, although
most of us just say Gorol in casual conversation. It is located about two weeks
ride northwest of Caradon. The main base of operations is called The Stands,”
he informed with a shrug. “I do not know why. It is located about a week and a
half ride west of Kaibain in a cave system in the hill country. You will find
neither on any map.”

“Are there other facilities?” Rezkin asked.

“I did not believe so – until I met you,” Kai added
with irritation.

Rezkin pondered this. Thus far, the information had not been
immediately useful. “What of the hierarchy? How does it work?” he asked.

Kai shook his head. “It is not like that. There is no
hierarchy amongst the strikers. All are considered equal, but some have
specific responsibilities. Strikers are required to Master certain
Skills
.
Each one focuses on the
Skills
for which he is best suited. When a task
is to be carried out, the striker with the most applicable skills is selected
to complete the mission.”

“I am familiar with the
Skills
,” Rezkin remarked and
motioned for the striker to continue.

Kai nodded shortly. “When the king issues an order, that
order is communicated to the necessary parties by the
Speaker
. It is not
a position of promotion or power. Each speaker chooses someone to train as his
replacement, and the speaker does not make any decisions on his own. He simply
disseminates the knowledge.”

“No one else issues orders?” Rezkin inquired.

“Only the king can issue orders, but they do occasionally
come to us via the seneschal. Those orders are typically of the routine sort.
Anything truly important would come directly from the king through the
speaker,” Kai explained.

“What if the king does not wish for
all
of the
strikers to know of an order. What if he has a secret task and does not wish
for it to be made known?”

Kai shifted uncomfortably, “Well, the king could call upon a
specific striker to perform the task, and the striker would be required to keep
the king’s confidence. Bordran did it sparingly, but Caydean makes use of the
tactic often. When the king calls on certain strikers too often, it induces a
hierarchy of importance and political influence within the strikers. As I said
before, the strikers are meant to be equal and function with the highest
efficiency. Caydean’s method greatly diminishes the power and effectiveness of
the strikers as a whole but shifts the balance of power in the king’s favor.
Every striker, by oath and duty, is loyal to the king; but Caydean has certain
strikers that are, shall we say,
more loyal
, than others. I was a member
of this
special
group. I thought it an honor – until I learned of
the king’s machinations.”

“So there are rifts among the strikers? Not all are as
supportive of the king as others?” Rezkin asked.

The striker shrugged and replied, “There are no official
groups, as far as I am aware, and people to do not speak out openly; but
strikers are trained to follow
Rules
and conduct themselves with honor.
Caydean has no honor. He is soulless and corrupt, and he takes pleasure in
corrupting the souls of others.”

Kai’s voice rose with increasing vehemence as he said, “He
takes good, honorable men and forces them to do unspeakable evil by virtue of
their oaths and fealty, but to deny the king is to reject your oath and forfeit
your life. Do you not understand?
You
gave me the chance to preserve my
honor
and
escape Caydean’s treachery. I know others dream of the same
opportunity.”

“I did nothing,” contradicted the young warrior.

Kia’s eyes widened. “You do not have to
do
anything.
Your mere existence is enough. Whether you accept it or not, Bordran’s actions
provide people with an alternative to serving that evil bastard.”

Rezkin grunted. “Caydean is no bastard. He is the eldest son
of King Bordran and Queen Lecillia, and, therefore, the rightful ruler of
Ashai.”

“So say
you
. You cannot deny the equal claim that
Bordran chose another,” Kai said cryptically, so as not to alarm their young
observer. Tam stood wide-eyed, and, at least for the moment, seemed interested
enough to forget his nerves.

“This is getting us nowhere, and I have more questions. Do
you know of a striker named Farson?” Rezkin asked abruptly.

Kai furrowed his brow in thought. “Yes, I was familiar with
Farson. We were in training together some twenty years past. I admit his
Skill
was greater than mine at the time. He was barely twenty and had already
mastered several weapons. It was enough to gain King Bordran’s notice, not that
it mattered in the long run, I suppose. He was killed on a mission, oh, about
fifteen years ago, I think.”

“Adona, Beritt, Greyson…” Rezkin said as he went on to list the
other seventeen strikers with whom he had trained. While the team consisted of
only fifteen, a few of them died over the years and were replaced. “Are you
familiar with them, as well?”

The older man’s eyes widened with each name. When Rezkin was
finished, he let out a low whistle. “That is a long list of the dead. I know
their names and reputations. All of them were highly
Skilled
.” Kai
furrowed his brow and thought over the list. “Some of them had mastered the
more unusual
Skills
. Those losses were difficult to overcome, as far as
training new recruits was concerned. Of those on the list, Adona was killed
first, about a year or two before Farson. The others were all lost in the
following years, although a few of the deaths were never confirmed. The greatest
hit came when seven of them were lost during a storm at sea about ten years
ago.”

Rezkin nodded. Those dates were consistent with increases in
his training regimen. More strikers had shown up over time as his
Skills
increased. What was interesting was that Kai, and presumably most of the
strikers, if not all, had been duped.

“You said only a few of the deaths were not confirmed. How
did you learn of the others’ deaths?” Rezkin asked.

Kai shrugged. “I do not know how some were confirmed. The
knowledge probably came down through the speaker. Others, well, their bodies
were returned and entombed. Funerals were held.” Kai scratched at his beard in
thought as Rezkin pondered the response.

“You know, I was originally selected to go on one of those
failed missions,” the striker mused. “Bordran requested someone with an odd
combination of
Skills
, and I satisfied the requirements. The old king
asked a lot of questions, particularly about my personal life. At the time, I
was newly wed and expecting my first child. When Bordran heard of it, he
requested someone else. He said it was no offence to me, but the task was
almost certainly a suicide mission, and he was loath to take me away from my
family. It turned out he was right, and I never begrudged him the rejection.”

“The other men? Did they have families?”

“I cannot say. Strikers tend to keep their personal lives to
themselves,” Kai remarked.

Rezkin took a few steps back and sat on a crate across from
the striker. The lantern flickered, casting eerie shadows amongst the cargo.
Kai watched the young warrior with curiosity. Why the interest in long-dead
strikers? He would have thought the man would be more interested in the living
ones.

“The strikers I listed did not die on missions, nor were
they lost at sea,” Rezkin abruptly stated. “You were misled. In fact, all but
three of them were alive up until close to two months ago when I set out on my
journey, and one still lives.”

Kai blinked several times in astonishment. That was not at
all what he expected to hear. “How do you know this?”

“Because they were my instructors. Over the years, as my
training increased, more arrived. There were always fifteen strikers at any one
time for the last five years. In addition, I had two Masters who were not
strikers. Are you familiar with the names Jaiardun and Peider?”

The striker furrowed his brow and replied, “No, I do not
believe so. The names do not sound Ashaiian.”

“No, they do not. I have my suspicions about their origins,
but that will have to wait,” Rezkin replied.

“So, the strikers had another training facility? Why did I
never hear of it?” Kai muttered.

“No, I do not believe the strikers had another training
facility. I believe Bordran had a training facility staffed with strikers,”
Rezkin explained.

“How many were trained in this facility?” Kai asked
dubiously.

“One,” Rezkin replied.

Kai’s eyes widened as he sputtered, “You expect me to
believe that Bordran effectively
killed off
nearly twenty strikers over
the years, secreting them away to some mysterious training center from which
they never returned, just to train
you
?”

Rezkin nodded curtly.

After a long pause, Kai asked, “What of your family? Who are
they? You must have been important. I cannot imagine he selected some random
boy.”

“I have no family of which I am aware. I was raised and
trained at the fortress since infancy,” Rezkin replied.

“Why would he need so many just to train one man?” the
striker asked incredulously.

Rezkin looked at Kai thoughtfully and then finally said, “I
had to master the
Rules
and
Skills
. They required Masters of
every
Skill
to instruct, and they needed men to fulfill the roles for
mock battles and stealth scenarios. It was efficient to use the same men.”

Kai’s brow rose, and he remarked, “Most of the
Skills
are not tested against other strikers. It is unlikely anyone would penetrate a
fortress staffed solely by elite forces.”

“It was what we had,” Rezkin stated unconcerned.

The striker tilted his head and asked, “Which
Skills
did you master?”

Rezkin gave him an odd look and said, “All of them, of
course.”

The sudden, boisterous laughter made Tam jump. “You could
not have mastered
all
of the
Skills
. No one masters all of them.
You must have mastered only the
Skills
they presented. How many were
there?”

Rezkin cocked his head. He had not considered that there
might have been more
Skills
than those they taught him. “There are two
hundred and fifty-eight
Rules
, twenty-seven major
Skills
, and
sixty-three minor ones.”

Kai’s face dropped, and his brow furrowed. “There are only
twenty-five major and forty-seven minor
Skills
, and it is impossible for
any man to master them all.”

Rezkin shrugged and replied, “And, yet, I mastered more. My
only memories are of training in weapons, combat, stealth, battle tactics and
strategies, languages, economics, politics, healing, and a seemingly endless
list of other
Skills
. Every waking moment was spent in training, and I
am certain my waking moments far outnumbered those of the average outworlder.
Until I left the fortress, I believed it was the way most individuals
functioned, despite my training telling me otherwise.”

“Outworlder?” Tam asked, surprising himself with the
question. He blinked and said, “I’ve heard you use that word often. What does
it mean?”

“Anyone from outside the fortress,” Rezkin replied.

The striker frowned and remarked, “I do not believe the
strikers could have taught all of those subjects in enough detail to be
mastered, nor would you be able to master more than a few in your short number
of years.”