Denee - Chapter Two

Chapter Two – Denee.

“Again Denee, press!” Barked Rikkal Stone into the momentary silence as the two students he had been watching spar broke apart, sweat streaming down their faces and groans echoing around the sparsely occupied practice yard. Denee directed a grimace in the direction of the Lord Commander before immediately launching into an attacking form with her blade, driving her opponent, Carle, back a few steps before he could react.

Denee winced as she blocked a vicious overhand cut from Carle, the impact jarring her right shoulder. She replied with a low diagonal cut towards his unprotected midriff, watching as his eyes widened in surprise. Grunting in satisfaction, she pressed harder, forcing him back step by step towards the edge of the chalk circle of the duelling ring. Carle always underestimated his opponents, and Denee was determined to make him pay for it. Advancing, she rained steel down on the red haired man, parrying his limp ripostes with ease. His defence became more and more frantic, his breathing harsh and laboured. This was the third and final round and so far, no blood touches had been made.

The blades clashed together in a screeching of steel as Denee forced Carle back towards the edge of the ring. Her muscles strained as she pushed harder, throwing all her weight into one final heave. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Carle how close he was to the chalk line. Pressing forward hard, Denee looked as if she was about to break through and claim the winning cut, when Carle took a leap sideways to the right, his left boot flashing out to catch her in a sickening blow to the stomach. Gasping and wheezing, Denee dropped to the ground like a stone in water, her blade falling from hands that scrabbled protectively around her body. Groaning she lay prone on the ground, struggling to catch her breath as Carle, now smiling widely, sauntered arrogantly forward. He raised his blade and pressed it lightly to her shoulder.

“Do you yield?” He drawled, with a satisfied smirk on his face. Looking around the stands, he waved lazily at the few students dotted amongst the casual onlookers. A wooden structure, the training arena rose twenty levels in a circular fashion, opening to the sky. Benches had been placed along each tier and nailed down securely. Barely half were full.  Not many had ventured out this morning to witness the practice bouts.

“Well?” He asked her once more. “We don’t have all day to watch you lie in the dust, you know. Do you yield?”

Denee raised her head and pulled herself up into a crouching position, taking a few more calming breaths. She had slowly recovered her wind. Her green eyes searched the ring and found Rikkal. With a small smile, she turned her head and gazed up at Carle. “Of course I don’t yield, you fucking fool” And swift as a snake, she uncoiled and bounded to her feet, a knife dropping into her left hand and - with unerring accuracy - she slashed a shallow cut across his cheek, leaping backwards out of range before he could react. Squealing Carle clapped a hand to his face and staggered backwards, tripping over his feet and falling flat on his arse. His sword went spinning from his hand to clang hard against the barriers. Blood ran between his fingers and dripped into the dusty ground as he cried for help.

The crowd all looked to the Lord Commander, who casually declared “First blood Denee, match over. Medics, get him cleaned up” before turning away and striding towards a small mousy servant, bedecked in the Royal livery of the King of Salen. He was carrying a tray of refreshments. Grasping a glass of iced goat’s milk, Rikkal turned to watch as Denee acknowledged the cheers and scattered applause of the crowd before making her way over to the weapons stand to remove her practice armour.

Her shoulders ached from the morning’s exertion. Carle was arrogant and overconfident, but he was no slouch. His attacks hurt and Denee knew she would be spending the evening soaking in the baths after today. Abruptly, the applause cut off and she turned to see Rikkal striding back to the centre of the duelling ring. She groaned inwardly. It was time to evaluate the fight. Rikkal was her brother by blood, and because of that – and his lofty station – he was rarely easy on her. Well, she’d won today, but there were sure to be ways to improve, regardless.

I can count on him for that she thought wryly.

“There are a few lessons to be learned from this bout.” Rikkal announced, confirming her fears immediately. “I will give half a free day and two silver pieces to the student who can correctly identify them. Do we have volunteers?”

There was a scramble and creak of benches as hands flew into the air. Denee paled as the few students in the stands strived to catch the Lord’s attention. She thought she had done well here… 

Surveying the crowd, Rikkal pointed to a tall, blond boy of barely twenty years in the back row. “Traval, you will do nicely” he called out. “What can you tell me?”

Standing up, Traval nervously clasped his hands behind his back as he answered. “Umm, well, umm, I think sir, that Carle thought it was all won. Ee’ underestimated Denee, sir. Got too casual, if yer know what I mean…sir. Paid for it wit’ a lovely little scar he has.” He finished to a ripple of laughter.

Denee watched as her brother allowed himself a brief smile.  He let his gaze drift over to where the medics were treating Carle, and he slowly nodded. “Excellent Traval” He agreed “You are quite right. Whether your opponent is a man, a woman or a cornered beast, if you relax your guard for even one second, the tide of the contest can change on an instant – especially if you inexplicably decide to gloat. You are quite right indeed. Did you notice aught else?”

Shaking his head, Traval sat back down. Pointing this time to the front row, Rikkal gestured to a small red haired girl who had tentatively raised her hand. “Yes Carrie, a fitting choice. What did you see?” he enquired.

Flushing bright red at being addressed directly by the Lord Commander, Carrie climbed to her feet and stammered out “B-b-because she’s a girl, she d-d-didn’t expect to get hit like that…sir. Not everyone will treat a fight fairly. She needed t-t-to expect the u-u-unexpected. We could all see what was going to happen, but Denee didn’t and she over extended herself…I’m s-s-sorry sir! I didn’t mean to…” She cut off.

Waving a hand dismissively, Rikkal gestured over to Denee. “Do not be sorry, Carrie, you are correct. I value honesty.  She should have seen it coming and we will discuss it later.” These last words he directed towards Denee. She felt a flush come to her cheeks as her brother held her gaze. With a slight shake of his head, he clapped his hands together and turned to back to the students.

“I found little wrong with the first two rounds” he remarked. “The fighting was fierce and well-disciplined on both sides, yet the final result tells the tale. You can have the upper hand all through a match, yet still find yourselves on the losing side, and that can often be considered…fatal. Remember that.” There were nods of assent around the gathered students. Rikkal’s lips quirked into a smile once more before finishing.

“Excellent. We have done good work here today. Well, Traval and Carrie, you can both have the afternoon to yourselves. See the quartermaster about your silver. I am feeling generous this morning. I shall also inform Master Clay of your absence. I expect you both bright and early tomorrow however…am I understood?”

A chorus of ‘Yes my Lord’ greeted this announcement. Satisfied, Rikkal addressed the rest of his students. “The rest of you have Archery this afternoon, so I suggest you make the most of what is left of the morning. You are dismissed.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Denee walked across the arena to join her brother as he turned his attention to the young man only now just regaining his feet. The crowd made for the exits, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Across Carle’s cheek was a foul looking green poultice, and his nose was wrinkling with the smell already. Raising his head to meet Rikkal’s gaze, he pressed fist to heart before saying “My Lord”.

Regarding the man before him, Rikkal said quietly “You fought well today, Carle. Your improvement these last few months has been impressive.” As the young man swelled with pride at the compliment, the Lord Commander added “But, I am becoming concerned about this streak of arrogance you are showing. Do you think yourself better than your peers? Do you consider their abilities inferior? I wonder.”

The grin slid off Carle’s face at Rikkal’s tone. Standing straighter, he cleared his throat before replying. “Well, not exactly sir - At least not all of them anyway. Ferris is still far better with the sword, battle-axe and the spear, although I best him with the bow by a margin. As for the rest of the Level Fours…” his eyes slid over to where Denee was standing casually a few paces away, and he smirked. “Yes sir. Far superior, as you have just yourself witnessed”

Laughing aloud, Denee took a threatening step forward and growled “I’ll give you another cut, if you like Carle. It’d be no trouble at all. In fact, how about now?” Just as she began to slide her knife from her sleeve, Rikkal’s hand clamped down hard on her wrist. He gave her a warning look, before turning back to Carle.

Frowning, Rikkal glanced pointedly at the poultice on Carle’s cheek and said “You appear to have a very short memory. You did not get that cut rolling in the dirt like a pig, boy. You let your guard down, you gloated and you paid the price.” Cutting off Carle’s objections with a raised finger, the Lord Commander drew himself up to his full height, towering over the younger man as he continued, his voice calm but unyielding. “In fact, whilst I readily admit you displayed admirable cunning to turn a losing situation to your advantage, before that you were hard pressed indeed. I think we will spar on the morrow, Carle. The best of five rounds, yes? A little lesson in humility is in order. Now, away with you and make sure your blade is well honed…”

Blanching, Carle’s face turned deathly pale. He hoarsely managed to grate out a “Yes sir, on the morrow” before saluting again and stumbling off in the direction of the weapons stand to remove his soiled gear. He passed Denee on the way and pointedly refused to look in her direction. With a casual shrug, she came to stand by her brother. “The little shit” She growled “I’ll have a boot sized bruise across my belly come the morning. I should have cut him harder…well, that can be for next time”

Grunting, Rikkal started to walk towards the tunnel that led out of the training arena and towards the quarters set aside for the King’s Masters of Weapons. Waving for his sister to follow him, they walked in silence past the great steel doors that led off towards the lesser smithy. Only the sound of their boots could be heard as the earthen path gave way to white marble tiles. Presently they both emerged from the tunnel again into bright sunshine, and taking a left turn they headed towards a long single tiered building two hundred paces distant. Like most structures and buildings within the city, it was primarily a fortress. Above a solid wooden door two feet thick and banded in iron, rose thirty feet of stark granite walls. Battlements crowned the structure giving the building an imposing look. Underneath the city were tunnels and passages that led into the mountains – a last form of refuge, if it were ever needed. The City of Salen was considered one of the most fearsome in the Eastern World, yet there was beauty here also. Further into the city, the King’s Boulevard was lined with Maple Tree’s where folk could recline at their leisure. Streets split off from the main boulevard like tributaries from a river to parks and gardens. Yet the great Square of Hakar at the end of the King’s Boulevard outshone them all. Two square acres of marble walkways and bridges criss-crossed the most fragrant gardens to be found this side of the Aspinal Mountains. Streams and ponds dotted the square, with birds and many forms of wildlife. If one continued along the pathway they would come upon three enormous fountains that had been wrought into the likenesses of Salen’s founding lords. Lord Commander Lorral, who had founded the ancient Hakish Academy stood sentinel, his face stern and unyielding, a torrent of clear water streaming from the tip of his upraised sword. Behind and to either side, King Hakar and Queen Rachelle gazed down benevolently upon any petitioners to the Palace.  Long centuries of warfare between two of its neighbours – Kordovia and Stakoria – had hardened its people and given them a grim bearing, yet – like the city; their interior could not be tarnished.

Reaching the doorway of the Academy quarters, Rikkal pushed open the door and headed inside. They entered a wide, well lit corridor that showed more evidence of the martial nature of its people. Murder holes lined the walls and stout oak doors lead off to the right and left in the direction of the servant’s lodgings and kitchens. On the walls for every five paces a bracket held a burning torch. In between the torches, portraits had been hung by the Royal Artist; each depicting a different scene in the life of the most famous Lord Commander’s that Salen had known throughout the long years. Hard men and women, all with a stern duty to King and Country. The scenes ranged from the first Lord, Lorral, kneeling to offer King Hakar his services, to Lady Katern leading the charge that broke the lines of the armies of Koren in the Salen Pass. Lord Caze - who had been responsible for the single rebellion against the Throne to oust the vicious tyrant King Jeffer – had the largest portrait of all. Rikkal strode past, looking neither left nor right as he reached the end of the corridor and pushed open the heavy oak door. They emerged into a large brightly lit room, sunlight streaming in through the small windows to the right. This was the common room, where the Lord Commander and his Weapons Masters would gather at the days end. Here they discussed their students, their training and the news from the city and the world outside. The room was by far the most lavish within the residence. Five armchairs surrounded a large mahogany table set atop a rug that had come all the way from Ios. Doors lead off from the room to the personal chambers of the houses’ Masters. One door led deeper into the house to the pantry, where there was a set of brick stairs that ran up to a trap door that emerged out onto the roof. Great store of arrows, weapons, armour and foodstuffs were stockpiled here in the event of a siege. It was Denee’s favourite building in the city. Usually, she preferred the outdoors or places of solitude, but she cherished these moments alone with her brother.

On the wall directly opposite the entrance, between two doors leading towards private sleeping chambers, a log fire sat banked waiting to drive away the chill of the mountain evenings. Late summer snows were not unheard of in Salen. Crossing the room to the fireplace, Rikkal gently gave a pull to a small rope that connected to a bell in the kitchens.

Taking a seat in one of the armchairs, Rikkal gestured for Denee to sit herself opposite him. After a few moments, the door they had entered by swung open again to admit Harris, the aging chief of staff. Bowing deeply to the Lord Commander, his smile took in Denee as he addressed Rikkal politely. Originally born in Greatholme Harbour nearly sixty years past, he had retained the thick accent familiar with those that plied the rough waters of the Spirash Ocean

“Will it be the the usual for you, my Lord?” He enquired.

At a nod from Rikkal, Harris turned to Denee. “And for you my Lady, I have acquired fresh bread, bacon and blood sausages just this past hour. There is also a blueberry pie I have baked just this morning. Further, I have a rather fine apple brandy that I am reliably informed goes wonderfully. ” he finished with a hint of smile.

Laughing out loud, Denee clapped her hands together. “Ahh, Harris!” She exclaimed.  “ I swear, if you weren’t old enough to be my Grandfather I’d marry you this instant. Make it a small glass though, please. I’ll need a steady hand for archery this afternoon and I fear I’m already in enough trouble with my brother here”

Bowing deeply again, Harris backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Sitting in silence, Rikkal leaned back into his chair and gazed up at the beams criss-crossing the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought. Denee took out her belt knife and began trimming her fingernails, humming softly. A few minutes went by as Harris returned with a tray carrying a pot of wild berry tea and the small brandy. Placing them on the table between Rikkal and his sister, he departed the room once more.

Reaching for her glass, Denee took a sip and regarded her brother over the rim of her cup. Rikkal Stone was still a half legendary figure to her, even now after the five years she had lived in Salen with him. She had been three years old when Rikkal had ran away from their family home. Having been born and bred in a small fishing village around ten miles outside of Bondis, her childhood had been hard and cruel. Until her brother came back for her, that is. Eleven years he had been gone and it was rumoured around the barracks and taverns of the city that he had travelled North and East, fighting in the wars there. He had joined the ranks of students in the Hakish Academy some eight years back and his rise had been meteoric, becoming the youngest Lord Commander for over a century.

Even to this day, Denee had no idea how he had known to come back for her when he did. His arrival had been more than timely, but that was something she did not like to dwell on too much. Her thoughts of those days were twisted and bitter, and Rikkal was the one chink of light in a past littered with fear and darkness. She was nineteen now and had risen steadily through the ranks to a Fourth Level initiate. She was in large part content with her life, yet she yearned to see more of the world. So far her experiences were confined to the village she had grown up in and the high, proud walls of the mountain fortress of Salen. The journey in between had been one of grief, and terror that had prevented her from taking much notice of their route. She had vowed that one day she would change that.

Taking a deep breath, she muttered into her cup “Well, best to get it out of the way before the food arrives.” Raising her voice, she said to Rikkal. “Brother. Yes, I’m an ass. Yes, I should ‘ve seen what that little shit was going to do. I’m sorry, I know you expect better of me.”

Lowering his head to meet her steady gaze, Rikkal gave her a pained look. There was no trace of tiredness in his grey eyes, and his dark brown hair hung loose over his shoulders.

 

“Denee, I often fear I am too harsh with you. Do you know why that is? No, I suppose you do not” He mused, gazing upwards once more. “Truth be told, the way you fought today was admirable and far exceeded my hopes for you when I brought you here. You seem to have reached a breakthrough these past few weeks. Carle is no slouch, arrogant fool though he may be, and yet he has never so much as recorded a touch against Ferris, for all of his boasting of ‘besting him with the bow’” He snorted. 

“You however, have left proof of your prowess upon him not once, but thrice. I should not let myself forget that and neither should you.”

Blushing faintly, Denee lowered her eyes. Her brother was always very sparing with praise when it came to her. He was a lot harder, and far more demanding than he was with the other students. Denee didn’t mind as it gave her the opportunity to learn and she saw her brother’s strictness as a peculiar form of caring. She could never tell him how much she appreciated his confidence in her to make her own way in the world. He rarely let his guard down around anyone, but she was one of the few privileged to see that compassionate side to his character – rare that it was.

Just then, Harris arrived with their late morning meal on a silver serving tray. Quickly and efficiently laying the table for two, he placed platters piled high with bacon, eggs, sausages and bread baked just that morning, with fresh churned butter and preserves. For Rikkal, there was his usual morning meal of oatcakes, cheese and flatbread. He was stingier than a merchant when it came to food, yet the same could not be said of Denee. Rubbing her hands together gleefully, she began to serve herself as Harris once more bowed himself from the room. Whilst her brother was a large, imposing man well over six feet tall – for all that he ate like food was merely a nuisance rather than a pleasure – Denee herself was just the opposite. Whip slender and lean; she was all muscle and hard sinews that gave a misleading appearance to the unwary. Her brown hair was cut short just above the shoulders – she hated having to tie it back when wearing a helmet, so she had taken the decision to do away with the bothersome stuff. She would have shaved the entire lot off had Rikkal allowed it.

For a while they sat in companionable silence observing the necessities of eating. At the end of their meal, whilst Denee was half-heartedly wondering if a second glass of brandy would impair her archery that much, Rikkal cleared his throat and broke the silence, making her lift her head curiously.

“You should know that the King is sending out scouts and riders within the coming weeks. We expect them to go as far as Kordovia to inspect the movements of the armies encamped there. Stakoria is too close and present to our minds for us to be worried about them taking us unawares, though I have been hearing disturbing rumours lately… well, that doesn’t concern you, yet. This new flare up in hostilities has us cautious, however. Kordovia is just far enough away that our information is ever uncertain. The King requests that two level fours accompany the scouts for seasoning…”

Denee was in the process of leisurely savouring a large slice of bread, piled with apricot jam, when these words caught her off guard, making her choke loudly. Her choking gave way to violent coughing as Rikkal rose from his seat to pound her between the shoulder blades. For the second time that morning, Denee struggled to regain her breath and gaped at her brother as he resumed his seat. Eventually she gasped out “Two Level Fours?! Why two? Why any? The King has never sent any on such a mission before now.”

“Why any indeed?” her brother mused. “There is of course wisdom in this, however. It is as good a method as any of tempering men and women as I know – better than some, anyway” He finished with a twist of his mouth. Denee knew what he meant, and kept her silence. The practice of sending the level fours to border forts for seasoning had been established long before her brother’s time. As the threat of war was never too distant, it was considered a solid – yet dangerous - method of blooding young men and women. Rikkal despised it and called it a callous waste of promise and potential. It was rumoured he had called it foolhardy to the King’s face. Often it resulted in the Academy’s best and brightest dead before their time, and that was never acceptable in her brother’s eyes.

Yet when the King commands, those sworn to serve must obey. Denee felt a tingle of excitement. Other than herself and Ferris, there were three more level fours in the Academy. Carle - the arrogant prancing ass of a man – along with Durran and Traydus made up the five. Denee was the only woman to have risen so far in the last year. Any one of them had been ready for a mission for some time now, but the break out in hostilities had put paid to any plans on that front. But now the King had obviously deemed the time was ripe.

Hesitantly, fearing the answer, Denee asked her brother cautiously. “Who is making the decision? Will it be the King or you? And when are they expected to leave?”

Threading his hands together, Rikkal leaned back into his chair once more and gazed up at the ceiling. Softly, he replied “It is to be my choice, yet the King has asked that I do not delay. He must have a decision by the week’s end and that leaves me only three days. The patrol rides in just under a month and the recruits must spend that time with the rest of those the King and Council deems fit to send. The party will not be large – ten, maybe twelve at most - and I imagine they will each take separate paths to Kordovia, so time is of the essence.”

Denee held her breath and kept her gaze fixed on her brother’s stern features. After a moment he took a deep breath and continued.

“However, I have already made my decision. Carle is too arrogant, too wayward and would only be a danger to those unfortunate to be sent with him. Durran is excellent with the bow, and solid with all his weapons, yet what he has in martial prowess he sorely lacks in tactics and mental capacity. Ferris, of course is a given. He has been ready for some time and he far outstrips the talents of the rest of you. He needs this, lest he begin to stagnate. Which of course leaves just you and Traydus and – “

“– But it must be me!” Denee cut in eagerly. “There isn’t too much between us, I know that, yet I need to get out of this damned city! This is my chance to see places I’ve only dreamed of and –“

Holding up a hand to cut her off, Rikkal continued “If you had waited for me to finish instead of barging straight in” he said with a small smile “then you would have heard that I have chosen you to go. Traydus has unfortunately been ill these last few days, and he does not seem to have quite recovered his strength. The King has commanded that you be ready within a month, and that means extra training with the soldiers in the barracks on fieldwork, woodcraft and survival in the wild. Yes, I know you have attempted these things” he said, catching the look on Denee’s face. “Yet you have only practiced them in trials and mock missions within the Academy, under little to no danger or pressure. We push you hard, yes, but not as hard as the real soldiers and field commanders will. Traydus needs time to recover, so that leaves you, which obviously delights you – and as your brother, that worries me”

Denee did feel a momentary pang at his last words, yet that couldn’t drown out her excitement. Infiltrating enemy territory, living wild and off the land, danger and adventure – these were all things she had longed for. She grinned at her brother and laughed aloud as he shook his head. “When do I have to leave for the soldiers barracks?” She asked breathlessly.

“You and Ferris are assigned to Captain Preya on the day after tomorrow.” He replied. “She will take over your training in the coming weeks, and if she deems you adequate you will depart within the month. Now, enough talk. The morning is wearing on and you have archery practice to attend. Be off with you – and keep this to yourself until the King announces it.” He added as an afterthought.

Bounding to her feet with a cry of delight, Denee rushed around the table and threw her arms around her brother’s neck. “I do love you, Rikkal. “She whispered fiercely.  “I promise I’ll make you proud of me.” And with that she turned and sprinted across the room, heaved open the door and raced off down the corridor. She had just enough time whilst the rest of the students were at lunch to make a few personal visits of her own and see her few friends throughout the city. Unable to contain her smile, she hurtled out through the door at the end of the corridor and headed off towards her private quarters. The aches and pains of the morning were forgotten as she raced off into the city.

Back in the common room, the Lord Commander poured himself another cup of wild berry tea and drank quietly, savouring the tart taste. The rumours the scouting patrols and merchants had been bringing to the city recently were unsettling, but the problems appeared to come from the north and west, towards Stakoria. With luck, a trip east and south would pass without incident and Denee would return in a few months or so complaining about nothing more exciting than saddle sores, poor food and boredom.

Abruptly, Rikkal let out a bark of laughter, draining his cup in one swift swallow. Denee was attracted to trouble as surely as the sun rises. He pitied anyone that managed to get in her way.