So this must be Father’s new war room.
As the meeting concluded, attendants filed out, talking amongst themselves, bowing their heads in respect to Tobin upon leaving.
Well, at least some acknowledge who I am.
He and Nachun exchanged a nod before the shaman left and the door clicked shut. Tobin was alone with his father. Only then did Bazraki speak to his son. “You were late.”
“I apologize, El Olam,” said Tobin, bowing deep. “I was training and needed to make myself presentable before entering your war room.”
“I’ve noticed that your time in the training ground has increased significantly as of late. I’m glad.” Bazraki’s eyes flickered to Tobin’s feet. “But does it take that long to bathe?”
Tobin glance down and saw what his father had seen, his left ankle had started to swell from earlier.
No use hiding that.
“No, El Olam. My ankle twisted in the practice circle. It would appear that it hindered my pace more than I had anticipated.”
“I see.” He paused. “And you would not take a horse or a cart? Surely, it would have made your arrival more prompt.”
“Horses are for plowing, battle, or carrying the sick and old. Using them to travel such short distances is for the weak. I am not. Besides the injury is minor and will not hold back my ability to train on the morrow.”
“Does that include the circle again?” asked Bazraki.
“Yes.”
Bazraki nodded and Tobin exhaled, knowing his answer pleased his father.
For once.
Tobin took the chance to change subjects. “What did you wish to see me about, El Olam?”
“I had intended for you to sit in on the meeting, but since you arrived late, it was not fair to stop and start over for your sake.” Bazraki walked back to the table he stood near before. “I wanted you to corroborate Nachun’s assertions about the new armor and weapons that you and he had been working on. But since you were late, I’ll have you do so now.”
New weapons? What is he talking about?
Tobin moved to the table to better see the items that adorned the table. Spread about were articles of war, many different than anything Tobin had ever seen before, some completely foreign in appearance. He gestured to the table. “May I?”
Hands clasped behind his back, Bazraki nodded.
Inspecting each item, Tobin paced the table, doing his best to hide his nervousness and anger at Nachun.
Going behind my back once again?
He started with the easiest to discern, a sword, and picked it up. Longer, yet lighter, than what a Kifzo normally carried, the balance impressed him most. He spun the weapon in his hand. Bringing the hilt to his eyes, he looked down the length of the blade, carefully turning it over in his hand. He tested the edge with his thumb and drew blood with little effort.
Amazing.
“Well?” said Bazraki, a tight scowl worn on his aged face.
Well what? Should I tell you that this is the first time I’ve seen this sword and that Nachun has lied to you once again and kept me in the dark the entire time. No, I cannot. I decided my position on Nachun.
“Nachun and I discussed many of these,” Tobin said, gesturing to the table, “some time ago. However, he is more familiar with the details than I am. Perhaps you can tell me first what he has already told you about each item so I don’t waste your time with information you already know.”
Silence stretched as Bazraki eyed his son with a glare that would shatter stone, one often used to break the wills of most men. Tobin forced himself to remain calm, emotionless, so not to give anything away.
His father finally nodded. “Nachun has talked about a new process, one long lost to our people that he
claims
to have rediscovered and, in his words, ‘improved upon.’ He maintains that no other clan in all of Hesh could compare to the quality of steel that would result from this process. The blade in your hand is his proof of such claims.” Bazraki stopped.
Tobin continued his lies. “We did discuss this process at one point. It seemed beneficial if it could be accomplished. But since then, training has taken the bulk of my time and I had not given the conversation much thought until now.” He placed the sword back on the table and picked up a dagger in its stead, examining it with care. “The craftsmanship is amazing. However, they are far different from what we currently use in look, size, and feel. It would take time for me to know these as well as I already know my own. Only then could I value their worth.”
“You have two days,” said Bazraki.
“That is not enough time.”
“Two days. If what Nachun claims is true, their advantage is too great for us to ignore. Those I spoke with earlier will be in charge of overseeing the production of all that is before you,” said Bazraki. “However, I told them that they must first wait two days before receiving my final order to begin. In the meantime, your task is to confirm their practical use so that I am not late in doing so.”
Tobin sighed to himself.
A nearly impossible task to complete in only two days. This would have been given to Kaz. I doubt he would be held to such an inflexible schedule.
“As you say, El Olam.” Tobin placed the dagger down and picked up a device that resembled a bow, only smaller, mounted on a flat wooden frame. A mechanism appeared to control the release of the string but Tobin was unsure how.
“Nachun calls that a crossbow. He says that less time is needed to become effective with it than what is normally required with a longbow and that there will be more power behind each shot.”
Tobin frowned, adding another lie, easier than the last. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so bulky.”
“He said the weapon is not meant to replace the longbow, but instead to compliment it and that it is not ideal for every situation. You have the same two days to determine what those situations are and just how efficient the weapon is before reporting to me.”
Of course.
“As you say.” Tobin set the crossbow down and moved to the last two items. One appeared to be a shirt, made from small metal loops woven closely together. The other consisted of a series of metal sheets, laid out in a manner that resembled a person’s body from head to feet. He liked the look of neither.
“Now I see why one’s blade must be so light. This extra weight must be compensated for,” said Tobin, lifting the armor and inspecting it. He grunted. “It’s lighter than it looks and no doubt it would provide better protection than the boiled leather we wear now. But where stealth is needed, it seems a hindrance. No telling how much this would slow one’s movements as well.”
“I expressed similar sentiments. Nachun assures me there are ways to dampen most of the noise the armor would make and he admits that some may still prefer to fight without it. However, he promises the positives will outweigh the negatives. These here were made specifically to fit your build. Two days, Tobin.”
Tobin nodded.
Apparently I won’t be sleeping over the next several days.
“I’ll have these delivered to the training field at dawn for you.”
“Send them to my room instead. Tonight. I often arrive at the training yard long before the sun rises.”
Bazraki nodded in approval. “It will be done.”
“Is there anything else, El Olam?”
“No. You may go,” said Bazraki, turning away from his son.
* * *
Tobin swore with each shot of pain that raced up his leg. He had broken out into a sweat by the time he reached his personal chambers on the opposite side of the palace.
It’s almost as if this sprawling waste of resources was designed to spite me.
With his father’s news fresh on his mind, he thought it best to try to retire early for the night. He hoped a few extra hours of rest would do his ankle some good.
That is, if my dreams don’t keep me up again.
He halted in the doorway of his room, alerted to a presence at the window. A lone figure stood staring out into the starry night, hands resting inside the sleeves of his robe. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Tobin stepping over the threshold and walking over to a chair. He collapsed with a sigh, easing the stress from his leg.
The shaman turned, smiling. “I was worried I would have to wait here all night for you. I see you decided to turn in early.”
“Well, I do have a long two days ahead of me now, don’t I?” asked Tobin in an accusatory tone.
“Aren’t you happy for the opportunity?” said Nachun.
“Why should I be happy?”
“Your father has given you an important task. He needs you.”
“He only
needs
me because of your doing. And next time you advise my father and intend for me to help sway him, it would be helpful if you let me know ahead of time. I had no idea what was going on tonight.” Tobin pulled off his boot with care. He reached for a jar of salve near him and slowly began to work the substance into his ankle, dampening the pain.
“I was only trying to help. I thought you would be pleased.” He frowned, casting his gaze downward. “Speaking of help, I may have found a way to mend your ankle. I haven’t worked out all the details yet and it would….”
“No,” snapped Tobin. “I’m not sure I want your help right now. What you did to Kaz, these new weapons and armor, and countless other things. I never asked for any of it and worst of all, you keep doing these things without my knowledge. It makes me wonder who you’re truly helping,” he said through slotted eyes.
Nachun moved to a bare wall across from Tobin and leaned against it. He removed his arms from his robe and folded them across his chest. Staring, he said nothing. Tobin ignored him and continued working the salve into his ankle.
A few minutes passed before Nachun spoke. “I’ll ignore that jibe since I understand what this is about. Better, in fact, than you do, I think.”
“And I assume you are going to enlighten me as to what that’s supposed to mean?”
“I believe I will. And I want you to remember we are friends. Because despite your avoidance of me, and your annoyance at my attempts to help you, I do consider you my friend.”
Tobin leaned back and folded his arms.
“When I traveled with you from Nubinya, you talked a lot about things that obviously needed to be said.” He paused. “Maybe you didn’t realize exactly what you were telling me at the time, but by opening up in such a way, I saw that you trusted me. That meant a great deal to me. You also befriended me and accepted me long before anyone else.” Nachun stopped speaking for a moment and began to pace the room, head down.
Tobin started to say something in reply but a raw emotion in Nachun’s eyes took him off guard.
It looks like he’s barely keeping it together.
“I wanted to do something in return, to thank you for the kindness you’d shown me. But what could I possibly do? Then I remembered our conversations and I saw the root of all your problems. You never came right out and spoke of it but it could be inferred from almost everything you said or did. I could tell how miserable Kaz made you. I witnessed firsthand how he belittled you at every turn. He hated you.”
“And so you thought his hatred gave you the right to take matters into your own hands? To remove him from my life?” said Tobin interrupting.
Nachun shrugged. “The right? No. Rather an obligation.”
“An obligation?!” asked Tobin, raising his voice. “You have no obligation to me.”
Nachun cut in. “It has been weeks since Kaz disappeared. At any time you could have turned me in, including the very night of his disappearance. But you didn’t. You helped me cover it up. Why would you do that?”
Tobin threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’ve told you why. For one, my father would have punished us both. And two, we were friends.”
“Were? Rest assured, Tobin, our friendship has not changed in my mind.” Nachun waved a hand dismissively, “And though fear of your father may be part of the reason, the truth of the matter is that you hated your brother. Perhaps as much as he hated you. You never would have been able to bring yourself to do anything about it. It isn’t easy for you to be as callous and cold as Kaz. I took care of it so you wouldn’t have to.
“Now you’re struggling with guilt, and its weight is something you can’t handle. So, you spend most of your time mindlessly training and avoiding anyone who would remind you of that night.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Tobin.
“You’re happier with Kaz gone, whether you agree with the circumstances or not. You don’t feel any remorse for what happened and you think you should. I think you may even feel guilty and ashamed that I had to do your dirty work.”
“I am not the kind of person….”
“…who would chop a man’s head off? Who would loose an arrow through another’s eye? Who would sneak up behind a crouching foe and slit his throat?”
“That’s different. I’m a Kifzo warrior and those acts are part of war. It’s what I’m trained to do.”
“Since when does war end on the battlefield? War is all around us. Each and every day we make allies and enemies. And like a good warleader, we must strategize to handle each one of them. I’ve learned that the hard way.” He paused. “Being a Kifzo is what you are trained to do. Think of all the things I’ve done for you as my way of providing you with a different sort of training.”
“Am I an ally rather than the friend you just claimed?”
Nachun shook his head. “They are not always synonymous but a man can be both and to me you are. And so like a good ally, like a good
friend
,” he said emphasizing the word, “I eliminated your biggest enemy, your strongest foe.”
Friend? That word once meant so much to me but now I’m not sure. I never once considered that a friend would act this way for my benefit.
After a moment, Tobin responded, his voice tired. “What exactly are you training me for?”
Nachun grinned, his eyes brightening. “A good strategist does not unveil his intentions until the proper moment, or else his plans may go awry. So, I only ask that you trust me.”
Tobin snorted. “Why should I trust you, when you keep trying to run my life?”
Nachun laughed. “Who else would you trust? Who else would help you in the ways I have? Walor? A good acquaintance, yes. But what has he done to truly help you in all the years you’ve spent together? Has he ever stood up for you at the risk of himself?” Nachun took a step closer to Tobin, staring. “I have not given you a reason to do anything other than trust me. Can you deny that your life isn’t better now than before we met?”