The Cavalier (28 page)

“I don’t believe it. I had heard stories about his bravery in battle but I had not heard that he was marked as an expert swordsman,” interjected Dagrinal.

“He is not marked. I remember asking my father when I was a boy why he was not wizard marked. He said that Kiln did not believe in advertising ones abilities to one’s enemies. He also thought it was just arrogance to get the mark.”

“That’s why Dagrinal wants to be marked. He wants to impress the wenches at Pygon’s Inn,” Graggis said, chuckling.

“Prince Baylin, how do you know he is better than Master Borum? I had thought that no one could beat our weapons master,” asked the young blond warrior, Piap.

“Master Borum told me many years ago, and so did my father.”

“He sounds like an interesting man. I am looking forward to meeting him,” said Dagrinal.

Jonas looked around at all the faces and noticed Sal eyeing him curiously.

Finally the young knight spoke up. “So, Jonas, do you think you are a cavalier?” Several of the warriors glanced at each other, obviously wondering the same thing.

“Sal, I told you that you were not to speak of it,” said the prince with authority.

“I’m sorry, my Prince, but we are all wondering what he is, what he can do, and since we volunteered to protect him, I think it fair that he explain himself to us,” Sal replied, losing some of his steam as the prince’s gaze hardened.

Prince Baylin addressed Sal, a calm authority lacing his words. “Fair? You are a Finarthian Knight, you follow orders! You do not have the right to question….”

“Sir, it’s okay,” interrupted Jonas.

The prince stopped abruptly, swinging his gaze to Jonas. The weight of that look caused Jonas to look away like a scolded child. He was not used to

being in the presence of great warriors, let alone royalty and an heir to a kingdom’s throne. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” was all Jonas could mutter.

“Son, let me tell you something. It is not Sal’s right to question me, or any of his commanders. Sal is young and ambitious, but not wise in these matters. The chain of command must be followed at all times. If I specifically told them not to question you, then I expect that order to be followed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Jonas said.

The prince turned his piercing blue eyes to Sal. “Do you understand, young knight?”

Sal dropped his gaze, looking at the ground. “Yes, sir, I apologize.”

“Good, but with that said, I happen to agree with you both. The king ordered me to tell you all not to question Jonas, that it was his business, and that what had happened to him was something that maybe he didn’t want to continue to bring to the surface. But he said nothing about Jonas freely giving information. I agree with you, Sal. You all have sworn an oath to protect this young man, and yet you know nothing about him and what happened to him other than the rumors. So, young Jonas, I will not order you to tell the story since my father has forbidden it, but if you are willing, then I think they are ready to listen. What do you say?”

“Yes, my Prince. I will tell them,” Jonas replied.

All the men stopped eating and looked at Jonas expectantly. He began his tale as he had in the past. He was getting good at telling the story and the words flowed easily from his vivid memories, memories that, Jonas was afraid, had been burned into his mind. He ended the long tale with the attack of the demon and how Graggis had saved them.

“I guess you’re good for something other than belching, eh Graggis,” added Dagrinal, chuckling at his own remark. The men laughed heartily at the joke.

“You might have been there earlier to help if you hadn’t been so busy snoring,” said Graggis, throwing a small rock at Dagrinal.

“I was dreaming of your mother,” Dagrinal replied, smiling as he batted the pebble away.

Everyone laughed together and Jonas felt at home. The camaraderie of these men was contagious and it calmed Jonas’s turbulent thoughts.

“That is an amazing tale, Jonas,” said Gar, a quiet young warrior from Ta’Ron. “I am sorry for your losses.”

“Thank you, Gar,” added Jonas gratefully.

“Jonas, may we see the mark?” asked Sal.

Jonas shyly looked at the prince who nodded encouragement. He stood up slowly and took off his cloak, lifting his tunic and chain mail shirt over his head. He stood baring his chest in the cold night air. His muscled torso reflected the orange firelight and the God Mark could clearly be seen. The men moved closer, staring in awe at the beauty of the design. The silver edges of the mark glittered like diamonds.

“Jonas, have you looked at your chest lately?” asked the prince, eyeing him curiously.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“The mark seems to have grown since I saw it last, unless my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

Sure enough, the prince was right. Jonas saw that the mark had spread slightly over his shoulders and down his arms. It had almost completely covered his stomach and chest. The mark must have been expanding slowly as Jonas had not noticed it until the prince pointed it out. It was a piece of art to look at and even Jonas’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the symbol.

“It is amazing!” Sal exclaimed. “I have never seen anything like it.”

“It makes a wizard mark look like a child’s drawing,” added Dagrinal.

Self-conscious, Jonas put his tunic back on and sat down by the fire.

“Do you think you will become a cavalier?” asked Graggis.

“I don’t know. Shyann has a plan for me and I think the plan will unfold as she sees fit. I want nothing other than to be a warrior that fights against that which threatens us. I would like to be a cavalier, if that is my destiny.”

“It is a hard life, Jonas, never knowing where you’re going or where you’ll be. Forming relationships is almost impossible and the constant threats and challenges a cavalier faces can wear one down. It is a tough road to travel, and few can do it,” Prince Baylin said.

“I do not know you well, Jonas, but you seem a fine young man,” Graggis addressed Jonas seriously. “You are brave, and from what I’ve heard, do not lack skill. I saw you stand up to that demon with nothing more than a sword in your hand and courage in your heart. I think you’d make a fine knight, or cavalier, and Shyann wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t think so too.”

“I thank you Graggis,” Jonas said modestly. He felt uncomfortable with the conversation and the focus on him, so he turned to Dagrinal. “Dagrinal, my sword training was cut short. Would you mind sparring with me when we have time? I would be grateful to learn from you.”

“It would be my pleasure, Jonas. Master Morgan told me that you were the best among the apprentices and you have potential to be a master swordsman.”

“I want to learn all that I can. I would appreciate your help.”

“How about now?” asked the tall swordsman standing up from the fire.

Jonas smiled. He stood up and drew his sword in response.

***

The terrain began to change as they headed farther west towards the Tundrens. Rolling grasslands gave way to forested hills, and the peaks of the massive range slowly grew larger. Their horses made good time through the grasslands but progress slowed as they moved deeper into the mountains. The terrain grew steeper and they had to carefully pick their way through rocky trails. Their pace was hampered as the horses stumbled occasionally, making the slow progress dangerous as well.

It was on the second night in the forested mountains that they sat around their fire to discuss how to continue their journey.

“Prince, I think it is time that we leave the horses. We will need to take to the game trails now and the horses cannot navigate them,” Nogris informed them, throwing more wood on the fire.

“Do you agree, Beorth?” asked the prince.

“Yes, my Lord,” affirmed Beorth. “I was going to suggest that myself.”

“Then so be it. Largress, Togin, I want you to stay with the horses until we return. We will need them to get back to Finarth.”

“Yes sir,” they both said.

“How long should it take us to reach our destination?” the prince asked Beorth.

“It is hard to say. It is summer so the trails will be open. We do not know the exact location so we will have to scout the surrounding area.”

“In your estimation, how long will that take?” asked the prince.

Beorth chewed on that question for a few seconds before responding. “Probably five or six days. Then it may take another several days to scout out Kiln’s exact location.”

“Okay. Largress, Togin, give us three weeks, one to get there, one to get back, and one for some extra time in case something happens. If we have not returned after three weeks then take the horses back to Finarth.”

“Yes my Lord,” they replied.

“Let’s get some sleep. We have a long hard trek ahead of us,” added the prince as he got up and moved to his bed roll. Jonas lay down on his own blanket and looked up at the mountain sky. He could make out pockets of the night sky through the dense trees. The stars sparkled in the clear sky as a soft breeze rustled the leaves. Jonas felt at home here, and he closed his eyes drifting off to sleep.

The next four days of their journey were more difficult, though there were no complaints from the hardy men as they carried their heavy packs over boulder strewn switchbacks. Jonas loved the strenuous activity and the landscape was breathtaking, reminding him of his home, or at least what used to be his home. The game trails were fairly clear and the summer sun kept things warm and dry. They slowly gained in elevation, continuing deeper into the mountains.

On the fifth day of their march they decided to camp next to a cascading waterfall that plunged heavily into a placid pool. On the far end of the pool the creek continued down the mountain, carving a shallow rift through the earth. Soft green moss covered patches of ground that otherwise was flat rock. The moss was thick, a perfect bed for their blankets. They lit the cooking fire and roasted some venison from a deer that Beorth had killed early that morning. They couldn’t carry the entire animal so they cut the choicest pieces, which were roasting over the hot fire. The fat, dripping into the hot coals, sizzled with small eruptions of delicious aromas.

Jonas and Dagrinal were sparring on a large flat rock that jetted out over the pool. The stone was over four paces wide and twice as long. Jonas had learned much from the warrior over the last couple weeks and they had quickly developed a strong friendship. Dagrinal emphasized to Jonas that good swordsmanship was a combination of balance, strength, and speed. He said that most men were lucky to possess just one of those characteristics, but very few possess all three in enough quantities to become master marked.

Jonas and Dagrinal circled each other, as they often did when sparring. Jonas lunged at Dagrinal, attacking him with lightning quick strikes, but Dagrinal was there every time to counter them. His agile footwork on the flat rock always kept him in the correct defensive positions.
 
Dagrinal smiled confidently as he picked up his speed, changing from counters to attacks. Jonas backpedaled, trying to counter his impossibly quick moves. After various exchanges, Dagrinal smacked Jonas twice with the flat of his blade, once on the thigh and the other on his side.

Jonas lowered his sword in frustration. “I just can’t keep up. You’re too fast!” Jonas said with frustration, sweat dripping freely off his nose.

“Of course I’m too fast, Jonas. Don’t get frustrated. I’ve been using the sword for over twenty years. How long have you?”

“Almost two years.”

“Exactly. Listen, no one starts off an expert at anything. It takes time. You are by far the best swordsman I’ve seen for someone your age. You are better than most trained soldiers. It doesn’t matter how good you are, there is always someone faster, stronger, and more skilled. To you I seem unbeatable, but when I fight Master Borum, I feel just as you do now. Do you understand?’

“Yes, sir, I think so.”

“You need to remember, if you want to become a master swordsman worthy of the mark then you must also possess patience and tenacity.”

“I will remember that,” said Jonas lifting his sword again. “Let’s keep going.”

“You certainly have no problems with tenacity,” laughed Dagrinal, lifting his sword in response.

Suddenly Jonas felt the familiar sting on his chest. His eyes grew wide in alarm as he looked about frantically.

“What is it, Jonas?” asked Dagrinal with concern.

Jonas grabbed his chest feeling the familiar sting again.
 
“We’re in danger,” he replied seriously.

Prince Baylin, who was sitting by the fire, hearing Jonas’s words, stood up quickly. “What is it?” he asked.

Jonas moved toward him quickly, scanning the forest surrounding them. “We’re in danger! Someone, or something, is coming!”

“To arms, men!” ordered the prince loudly.

Everyone reacted quickly, forming a hasty perimeter. Beorth, Jorm, and Jonas grabbed their long bows, nocking arrows and scanning the forest for any threat. Jonas’s heart was beating fast. He was frightened, not just for himself, but for these men who had sworn to protect him. What manner of threat was this? Was the demon back? That thought alone caused fear to explode inside him sending a deathly chill down his spine.
 
His chest tingled one more time, this time more severe.