The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 2: The Fair Maiden

TWO: The Fair Maiden

Foreknowledge cannot be divined by Prayer, nor can it be deduced by Reason. It can only be acquired from People: people with Knowledge of the Enemy.

—Caraazor 17:2 The Alchemy of War

Calidon Dannik doodled on his lesson slate as his aged tutor droned on.

Cal glanced to his right, and saw his sixteen-year-old brother Earwin absorbed by the lecture, his head bobbing up and down on his stick-like neck. To his left, he noticed eight-year-old Coriss playing solo games of tic-tac-toe with his slate tilted back to hide his ‘work’ from their tutor's view.

In contrast to Coriss’s hurried scratchings, Cal handled his chalk—nestled in thick fingers—with surprising care. He leaned his torso back in his chair, trying to bring his slate into focus. The massive young man carefully shaded a life-like portrait of their tutor, but he had removed the tired age lines and filled in the wild strands of hair that dangled from the tutor's scalp. Instead, he depicted Immel as a virile young warrior—as Cal imagined him before the long-ago injury that had crippled the old man's right arm.

Despite the seeming absorption with his artwork, Cal picked up his slate the moment the lecture ended. He sprang from his seat in the chapel, where Immel held his tutoring sessions, and stashed his lesson materials in a storage chest. He hurried through the door before his brothers had finished putting away their writing utensils. Cal crossed the fountain court, passed through a small parlor, and entered the armory of Dannik Castle before the bell tower had finished tolling the tenth hour.

It was time for sword practice.

Uncle Aldon waited in the armory, sitting on a short stool next to a rack of practice swords. Aldon’s short, iron-gray hair and stern features made him look almost as metallic as the weapons which inhabited his world. Cal automatically opened the lid of his storage chest to remove his chain mail, but Aldon interrupted him with a blunt command, “Rapiers today. No armor.”

Aldon rose from his stool and stalked from the room.

Rapiers. Why today, of all days?

While Cal still stared in disgust at the rack of plain practice swords, his younger brothers finally appeared in the armory. Earwin, who at sixteen was only two years younger than Cal, quickly selected a blade. His surety irritated his much larger brother, who did not want to use one of the vile things in the first place.

Reluctantly, Cal removed one of the rapiers from the rack. He examined the rebated edges and balled point to make sure it was safe to use for training. The thin, easy-to-handle sword looked ridiculously fragile compared to his powerful left arm and thick wrist.

He looked out the armory’s window. Along with the housecarls and squires who regularly trained in the practice yard, a swarm of spectators crowded the field. The practice yard always attracted a crowd just before Dannik’s spring fair. Many caravan guards, tradesmen and other travelers had little to do before the fairground opened, including a large number of unattached young ladies.

Great, I have to use this stupid toy in front of everyone.

Rather than entering the yard, Cal sat on a stool beside his stored gear, and closed his eyes. He fed annoyance, and fear of failing into his mind until he felt restrained anger pulsing through his brain, accelerating his senses into a hyper-reactive pitch. Now he was ready.

As Cal opened the armory door, the housecarls and guardsmen practicing in the yard looked up from their training to watch him. This subtle deference still surprised him every time he noticed it. Sometime in the last year, his training sessions began to distract the household soldiers from their drills.