The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 17: Ruler of the City

SEVENTEEN: Ruler of the City

When you know Yourself and Others, Victory is not in Danger. Thus, The Supreme Warrior Profits from War; while The Foolish Warrior impales himself with Ignorance.

—Caraazor 12:1 The Alchemy of War

As Cal groped toward consciousness, a deep, irrational foreboding welled up from the depths. He burrowed deep into his warm bed as he sought shelter from his fears.

Still caught in the next world, he dreamed of gallant knights charging in a rigid line into a tangled Forest. The armored warriors fell like sheaves of wheat before a merciless scythe as their lances slammed into the majestic red trees. The men wallowed on the ground in helpless chaos before the clinging underbrush swallowed them whole.

Gusts of derisive laughter bellowed from the amused Forest.

He woke.

Bright rays of light blasted into his half-opened eyes. His brain felt like red-hot lances skewered him through his eye sockets.

Someone pounded on the door.

Gods, I’ve been here before.

As Cal climbed out of the bed to open the latch, he remembered Coriss had been on the other side of the door the last time he had been woken up after a dance. Trying to suppress the sharp waves of regret that assaulted him, Cal pulled open the door.

To Cal’s great surprise, Saknoti stood in the cramped hallway.

Before he could say a word, his mentor explained, “Sir Aginadus worried when you not take supper at his table last night. Fardinanth arrive at my house at dawn to see if you spend night in my house. When he not find you, he remembered you mention party at Purple Pony. I rode back with him to help search for you. We started looking in inns close to tavern.”

Cal’s sluggish brain struggled to digest his mentor’s rapid-fire explanation.

Before he could say anything, Saknoti shoved a huge tankard into his hand and said, “Drink.”

The squire complied with the command, almost spitting up the water in the tankard because he had expected ale.

“Water helps with headache,” added the sailor, answering Cal’s unspoken question.

When he had seen Saknoti at the door, he had expected to endure his mentor’s disapproval. During the three fortnights he had spent in the sailor’s home, they had lived a completely austere existence. Saknoti’s amusement with his overindulgence surprised him.

“Did you bet against me?”

His mentor’s terse reply could have withered steel. “No. I never bet in Arena. Combat is not game.”

Then why are you helping me?

“Come. Knight’s procession begins at eleven. You need to change clothes and ride to City. Fardinanth has silk tunic for you, and pages will bring armor to Arena. You can break fast on way.”

Cal glanced at his purse which sat by his bedside, but Saknoti shook his head. “Innkeeper is paid. Come now.”

He drained the tankard so quickly that water spilled over the sides of his mouth as he drank. Without a single glance behind him, he left.

                                                              *      *      *

The knights trotted their horses down the wide boulevard, headed straight for the Arena, as the hordes lining the streets shouted out the names of their favorites. Cal rode near the end of the column, mounted not on Goldenrod, but on a calm palfrey suitable for the crowded city streets.