Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (44 page)

“I am Brendam LuDou, Captain of the Royal Guard for King
Desbian of Torrel,” the official stated in a thick Torreli accent that sounded
as though his tongue curled around his words. “I took first place in the
tournament three years back. I am not competing this year as I am serving on
the Oversight Committee to ensure the competition is conducted fairly. I will
evaluate whether or not you are suited to compete in the Fifth Tier.”

The official finally turned to Rezkin and motioned him
forward. Rezkin’s long strides ate up the ground between them quickly. He stood
across from the man silently, motionlessly, an onyx statue in a field of
swordsmen. The only disillusionment was the rustling of his cloak in the
breeze.

The dark warrior removed his hood fully revealing his mask
and array of colored braids. “You may call me
Dark Tidings
,” Rezkin
intoned, his voice clear and unperturbed by the enchanted full-face mask.

Despite the chorus of mutterings from the crowd, his
opponent grinned and shook his head saying, “That is a good one. I have not
heard before of its use in the tournament.” Rezkin tilted his head slightly in
acknowledgement of the compliment. The captain raised his blade and said, “On
guard.”

The dark warrior drew his sword and raised it to mirror the
captain. The almost crystalline black blade drew the eyes of everyone, and the
fiery green lines of lightning within glowed in the sunlight. A ripple of
commotion quickly passed through the arena, and pretty soon everyone had
stopped to observe the unique sword. The captain’s eyes widened, and he lowered
his blade.

“I apologize, but I must have your…unusual…sword checked for
enchantments. Enchanted blades are not permitted in the competition,” the
captain said as he waved to a couple of mages who had seen the blade and were
already en route. One of the mages was an older man wearing a charcoal grey
robe with brown and white panels, indicating his strongest affinities were of
the earth and wind elements. The young woman beside him wore the same charcoal
robe, but her panels were red and blue, an odd combination of affinities, since
fire and water did not usually present strongly in the same person.

Rezkin simply inclined his head in acceptance. The mages
stopped short of the dark warrior, their hesitance overcoming their excitement.
Rezkin held the sword before him in the appropriate manner for handing the
weapon over to another person. The older man took the sword reverently and held
it so he and the woman could both perform the examination. The two muttered and
made several exclamations about material empowerment, integral structural
formation, and other such scholarly observations. Eventually, the captain
simply got tired of waiting and interrupted the two mages.

“Is the weapon enchanted or not?” Captain LuDou asked.

“Oh, no, not at all,” the woman replied, astounded by her
own revelation. “It is unbelievable, really.”

The captain shook his head and said, “Then, please return
the sword so we can get on with this. If you have a desire to study it further,
you can perhaps make arrangements with the man later.” The two mages were both
disappointed and handed the sword back reluctantly.

“I apologize for the delay,” the captain said. “Are you
ready?”

Rezkin inclined his head affirmatively and raised his blade.
The captain took the offensive and slashed at the dark warrior. Rezkin darted
out of the way quicker than the captain expected, but the man recovered fast
enough to block Rezkin’s first attack. Rezkin’s blade lit with crackling green
light as they clashed, and the growing crowd exclaimed as one. The blow was
fast and powerful, and the captain realized he would need to exert a little more
effort to match this opponent.

Rezkin was impressed with the captain’s
Skill
and
wondered how much more effective he would be without the constraints of the
tournament rules. Some duelists, like the nobles with whom he traveled,
depended on the rules since they had few fighting
Skills
outside of
their sword training. Rezkin did not think this to be the case with Captain
LuDou.

After about a dozen clashes of blades, Rezkin finally
decided he was finished with the demonstration and stepped in as the blades
met. He twisted his wrist quickly, locking the other blade with his cross guard
and simultaneously shifted his body into a turn. His arms swung up and around
as he twisted his grip, and the captain’s sword went flying. Several spectating
competitors jumped out of the way as the weapon darted in their direction. The
captain stood, mouth agape, as he stared after his sword. Rezkin sheathed his
black blade and bowed slightly in a sign of respect for his opponent. The
captain shook himself free of his shock and returned the gesture.

“I have never seen that move before. It was…” the man
paused, shaking his head, “astounding.” The captain pulled from his belt a wide
strip of red fabric and handed it to Rezkin. “I look forward to seeing you
compete. I think I am glad I am not going up against you.”

“You were holding back,” Rezkin observed.

The captain nodded and chuckled as he said, “Yes, I am only
to evaluate, not make an example of everyone. But…I think you were holding
back, as well, were you not?”

Again, Rezkin inclined his head in acknowledgement as he
took the strip of fabric. He could now see that it held a small, embroidered
golden emblem of a lion on one end. When his fingers passed over the emblem, he
felt a slight tingling of mage power. Glancing around, he noticed that he had
managed to not only garner the attention of the spectators and other
competitors, but a group of mages gathered to one side talking excitedly with
the two who had examined his blade. Additionally, in the first row of the
stands closest to him, stood two of the strikers he had identified as being
among Caydean’s favored. The two watched him intently as they spoke, but he
could not make out their words.

The dark warrior turned and strode back through the portico
with a gathering in his wake. The three Fifth Tier competitors who had passed
their trials before him followed as closely as they dared. The two nobles
whispered animatedly, but the blacksmith kept his distance from the other two.
Rezkin approached the table at which he had registered, and a second attendant
hurried over to check his status. The first looked up curiously but was busy
with another competitor. Rezkin simply held out the red strip of fabric for the
attendant’s perusal.

The man snatched at the parchments that held Rezkin’s
registration and made a few marks. He said, “The fee for both the main and
melee events will be one hundred and twenty gold.”

Rezkin pulled from his purse a saph and two drets. A saph
was a gold piece with a sapphire set into the center, and it represented a
hundred gold pieces. A dret was gold with an outer ring of a mage-crafted
material called dretious, and it was worth ten gold pieces. He handed the coins
over to the attendant, and the man made a few marks in his book.

When the attendant was finished marking the payment, he
motioned to the mage standing behind him. The mage was young, probably around
eighteen years of age, and he wore the light grey robes of an apprentice. The
young man instructed Rezkin to hold the red strip of fabric so that the gold
emblem rested between his thumb and forefinger. Rezkin felt a small tingle of
power and the emblem warmed between his fingers.

“The emblem is activated, now. It is your proof of payment
and registration. You will need to wear it on your left bicep at all times when
you are in one of the arenas, even if you are not competing. You will be
disqualified if you are seen without it,” the mage explained. The mage’s eyes
rested on Rezkin’s sword, and he added, “If you wait for a few moments, someone
will be by shortly to provide you with a second ribbon for your sword. It will
indicate to other officials that your sword has already been checked for
enchantments. It will save you much time and trouble.”

Rezkin nodded his understanding and then stepped aside. The
blacksmith was next in line behind him, since the two nobles were busy
gossiping with a couple of their peers. The blacksmith stepped forward and
glanced back at Rezkin. It was impossible to tell where Rezkin was looking
since his eye sockets were nothing but black voids. The man returned his
attention to the attendant and said, “They told me to complete the registration
here after I passed the pre-trial. You said the main and the melee were
one-twenty together, yes? How high must I rank to receive a prize?”

“The top ten competitors receive a trophy, and their names
are recorded in the archive. The top five competitors receive a monetary award.
For the Fifth Tier, it is five thousand gold for first prize, plus a plot of
land or two thousand additional gold for foreigners or second-time winners.
Second place receives two thousand gold, one thousand for third, eight hundred
for fourth, and six hundred for fifth. We expect around forty to fifty
participants in the Fifth Tier.”

Aspion rubbed his chin and said, “The fee has increased much
since last year.”

“Yes,” replied the attendant seriously, but with more
patience than Rezkin would have expected. “It was only seventy five for the
main event last year.”

Aspion sighed and said, “I cannot afford both events, and
with the demonstration I just witnessed, I am no longer so certain I can place.
It is a lot of money for one such as me. I think I may have to pass on the
main. I will just be registering for the melee.”

Rezkin frowned beneath his mask. He was actually looking
forward to seeing the commoner put some of the pompous nobles in their places.
Before the attendant could make a mark, a saph landed on his parchments. Both
men looked up startled. The dark wraith had suddenly appeared at the table
without a sound.

“I will sponsor Master Aspion for the main competition,” the
dark warrior stated.

The blacksmith protested saying, “Lord…ah…Dark Tidings, it
is really not ne…”

Rezkin interrupted the man with a raised hand and said, “If
I am to compete in this tournament, then I would choose to compete against the
best swordsmen, not the richest. You have been found worthy of the tier, and
you should make a showing, regardless of whether or not you win. In fact,” he
said, raising his voice for all in his vicinity to hear, “I will cover the fee
for any commoner qualifying for the Fifth Tier who cannot afford the fee.” He
looked back to see the look of shock on the men’s faces. “Do not consider this
charity. I seek worthy opponents.”

The blacksmith snapped his mouth shut and nodded once in
acceptance. “If that is the case, then I accept.”

The young female mage who had previously examined Rezkin’s
blade approached as Rezkin turned to the attendant. “Let my offer be known. Any
commoner who can qualify for the Fifth Tier may compete at my expense. I will
return on the eve of the final day of registration and make good on the offer.
If they have completed the pre-trial and present themselves at that time, their
fees will be paid.”

The serious attendant’s face broke into a wide grin as he
said, “That is most gracious of you, my lord. I will spread the word.”

Rezkin turned to the woman who was obviously waiting on him.
She held out a wide strip of green fabric. “This will certify that your sword
has already been examined. I made it green to match your colors,” she said with
a slight blush. She cleared her throat and continued, “I will need to place it
on the blade to activate the emblem.”

The dark warrior nodded and drew his blade once again. He
held it before him in a demonstrative stance that indicated he did not intend
to use the weapon. The woman laid the green fabric against the blade and then
pressed her finger to the emblem. Rezkin felt the enchantment take effect with
a slight tingling.

The young woman smiled and said, “You can tie it to the
scabbard if you prefer.”

Rezkin bowed slightly and said, “Thank you, Mage…”

“Nanessy,” the woman replied. “I am Nanessy Threll,
Elemental Mage.”

Rezkin bowed again and said, “Thank you, Mage Nanessy
Threll.”

Before the woman could utter a request for additional time
with his blade, Rezkin strode away. The dark warrior passed beyond the outer
portico to see a small, gathered crowd. Word had already spread to those in the
immediate vicinity of the dreadful swordsman. Rezkin strode forward with
purpose and confidence, and the crowd parted as a wave around a ship’s prow.

Once he passed the main crowd, Rezkin ducked into a side
alley. He had seen the two men following and decided it was time to disappear.
He supposed their pursuit was only fair play since he had followed them a few
times already. They had never detected his presence, though. The young warrior
leapt a low wall, slipped through an open door, dashed through a vacant room,
and ducked out of a window into the next alley. After scaling a trellis, the
dark warrior concealed himself in the shadow of an eave that nearly overlapped
a chimney. As he waited, one of the strikers finally appeared on a roof two
buildings over from where Rezkin was secreted. The man was not looking along
the rooftops, though. He was still surveying the streets and alleys below.
Rezkin had already managed to lose the two strikers, but they were probably not
expecting him to attempt to slip away. They would surely increase their efforts
each time he lost them.

When the strikers moved on, Rezkin made his way in a
circuitous route back to the inn. He entered through his window that faced the
alley and undressed quickly. He removed the braids and washed the kinks out of
his own hair. Afterward, he washed the shirt and breeches he had worn for the
trial and hung them to dry behind the dressing screen. Finally, he dressed in a
well-made white tunic and loose brown pants.