The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (7 page)

"Excellent, Miro," Blademaster Rogan called. "Now bow." The two standing fighters did so; Rimor had been taken to the infirmary. "All gather."

Saporo joined his fellows. Blademaster Rogan came to stand beside Miro. Slightly taller than the lanky youth, he casually placed his hand on Miro’s shoulder. The gesture wasn’t lost on many. Miro heard snickers and groaned inwardly. Why did he have to get so much attention?

"You use steel swords. You hone them until they are sharp enough to cut a falling leaf. You wear no armour. You fight daily, in deadly combat. Someone, tell me why this is so?"

A student answered, "To make us better fighters."

"Correct, but there is more to it. Miro?"

Miro knew the answer Rogan was looking for. "Because combat without real fear teaches nothing."

"That’s right. There is more to being a bladesinger than carrying a zenblade, just as there is more to being an enchanter than possessing a vial of essence. A zenblade is to a normal sword what an ocean is to a gentle stream. The lightest touch from a zenblade will cut through anything. Anything!" he growled. "It will cut through armoursilk, and armoursilk is among the strongest armour our enchanters know how to make. And if we can’t make it — then who can?"

"No one!" the young men said in unison.

"So do yourselves a favour. Sharpen your steel sword, cut down your opponents, and keep your eyes sharp, for one day you might be facing someone with an enchanted blade." He gazed around him. "I see close to fifty of you here. No more than three of you will become bladesingers. Some will become soldiers in our army. Some are here to learn the military arts and prepare for a political career. But some will become cripples, here in the Pens, and some will die. That is all."

Blademaster Rogan strode away, leaving the young men standing pensively, uncertain for a moment.

Saporo came over with two of his friends. "That was a dirty piece of work. Rimor was going to a pageant tonight and you broke his nose. I know you, Miro. I know you’re good enough that you didn’t have to."

Miro frowned. Saporo wasn’t that close to Rimor and he didn’t need another enemy. Saporo probably didn’t know about the ambush on the Tenbridge two nights ago.

"Leave him," said another of the youths. "He’s got no father so he never learned any manners."

Some of the regular trouble-makers gathered. Miro knew he could never take them all. And if he drew his sword, outside of the arena and unsupervised, he would get kicked out of the Pens altogether. It was the first rule they were taught, and rigidly enforced.

"Maybe his father was a pig, and his mother was a goat, and he’s what you get when you breed the two," one of the youths, a lord’s son, said. It was a feeble joke but it still raised a few laughs.

Miro had nothing to say. He’d never had the courage to ask Brandon about his parents. They were dead; he knew that much. What if there was some dirty secret? Perhaps he’d be better off not knowing.

"Maybe his mother couldn’t bear the thought of looking at Miro all day so she left. I know I would!"

"Maybe she was a whore!" said the lord’s son.

Flushing, Miro turned away. If he provoked them he’d get more than bruises. He could sense that after the thrashing he gave Rimor they were looking for vengeance.

Miro walked away with his head down, his eyes burning.

The taunting stopped. "Who’s that?" one of the youths said.

Miro looked up and saw Ella. She stood transfixed, staring at him with a strange expression on her face. He realised she must have been there for some time, long enough to hear at least. His sister looked clean and sweet in her green woollen dress, the garb of a student at the Academy. Ella was already a year into her studies, but Miro still felt proud every time he saw her in green.

"That’s Miro’s sister. Lord of the Sky, how did such an ugly sod end up with a sister like that!"

The youths laughed.

"I wouldn’t mind slicing off that dress and seeing what’s underneath."

"Let another part of your body do the talking," said the lord’s son. "You’d probably slip and cut something off."

Miro didn’t consciously move. In the blink of an eye his sword had slipped out of the leather scabbard at his side and he had lunged forward. Fast. The point of his sword was suddenly pressed up against the youth’s throat. The lord’s son gulped. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down from the tip of the razor sharp steel. Miro’s muscles bulged, tensed to breaking point with the effort of restraining himself.

"Miro, please. Don’t kill me."

"Miro?" It was Ella’s voice. "Stop it, please."

Ever so slowly Miro removed the sword, his eyes never leaving the youth’s. Finally he turned. The shame he felt at seeing Ella’s desolate expression was painful. He wished she never saw this side of him. They had goaded him, he realised suddenly, they knew the rules as well as he did, and as soon as he left they would be speaking with the Blademaster.

Miro threw his sword on the ground and walked away from the crowd, leaving Ella staring after her brother and the marks his boots left in the dust.

~

"E
XCUSE
me. I’m sorry to bother you," Ella said.

"Yes?" the Blademaster turned, and instantly Ella realised that Miro’s teacher and her benefactor were one and the same. His eyes went wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Tall and lithe, Blademaster Rogan cut an imposing figure. Ella wondered how old he really was; it was hard to tell.

Ella was nervous. Rogan Jarvish definitely did not seem pleased to see her. "When I met you I didn’t realise you were one of my brother’s teachers. I’m sorry. I don’t want to trouble you."

"Something tells me that’s exactly what you’re going to do," Rogan said. "I heard about what Miro did."

"They made him do it. The other boys. He drew his sword, but it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I wanted to tell you…."

Rogan stood up from his desk, towering over her. "He’s just lucky no one was hurt. Just exactly what happened?"

Ella looked down at the floor, uncertain what to say. She blushed. "I came to see Miro fight. The other boys saw me. They said some things."

Rogan drew back. "Ah. I see." He surprised her by looking uncomfortable. "What did Miro do?"

"I… I think he threatened one of the boys with his sword. He… he touched it to his throat. There may have been blood. Lord of the Sky, I know it sounds terrible. No one’s hurt."

Rogan shook his head, "I won’t be able to protect your brother, Ella. Word of this is going to get out. Those boys talk, and many of them have powerful parents."

"It was my fault. There must be something you can do," Ella pleaded.

Blademaster Rogan sat down heavily and shook his head from side to side. "I’m sorry. He shows a great deal of promise, and for me it is a shame to lose him. But they are going to want to see him punished."

"Isn’t there some other kind of punishment? Anything other than throwing him out?"

Rogan’s brow furrowed, before he looked up. "Three months in the salt mines. It’s the only punishment strong enough."

Ella blanched. She had heard about the salt mines. The workers lived completely underground, huddled in caves and passages half a man’s height. The salt was rough enough to cause cuts and abrasions from mistakes made in the constant darkness, and when the salt got into the wounds, which it always did, it burned like a scorching flame.

"Bring him here," said Rogan Jarvish. "I’ll tell him about his punishment, and let’s see what he says."

~

E
LLA
walked with her brother, taking a longer route than was necessary. She stayed quiet, giving Miro time to calm down. She supposed that what he had done was only beginning to sink in. She had decided not to say anything to him besides that the Blademaster wanted to see him. She had the feeling he wouldn’t appreciate her speaking up on his behalf. Still, she felt responsible and prayed things would work out.

Miro had settled by the time they reached the Pens. "I’m sorry you had to see that," he finally said. "Lord of the Sky, what have I done?"

He frightened her sometimes. He had such pain in him, and also such strength. It was times like these that she forgave him his absences and the way she bore most of the burden taking care of Uncle Brandon. He had always protected her and cared for her. She wasn’t the only one who struggled.

"I saw you fight in the arena, you know," she said. "Lord of the Sky, you’re getting good! I was frightened though — do you really have to use real swords? You could have been killed." She touched the thin line of dried blood on his forehead.

"I let him do it." He shrugged. "If I showed them how good I really was they’d just hate me for it all the more."

"Are you really that good?"

The Blademaster’s voice sounded from behind them. "Yes, he’s good. And he could have been better. Perhaps even a bladesinger one day."

Ella frowned. "What do you mean, ‘could have’?"

"I hear you drew a sword outside the arena, Miro."

Miro met Rogan’s stare. "I did."

"He was only trying to..." Ella spoke up.

"Quiet, young lady," said Rogan. "Well what of it? Why did you do it?"

Miro stayed silent.

"You do know word of this is going to get out, don’t you? Do you want to be thrown out of the Pens?"

Miro still said nothing. His expression was black.

"Look at me, Miro. Listen, I have an idea. Contrary to what you may think, I have no wish to lose another promising boy. But if I don’t punish you, they’ll punish you themselves — that’s right, don’t think I haven’t seen it. This time you might not survive the experience." He turned to Ella. "Can you keep a secret?" Ella nodded. "I thought so. Miro, there’s a salt mine in the north, and for the next three months you’re going to be working in it."

Miro took a deep breath. "When do I leave?"

For a long moment, Rogan stared at Miro. "You do want to stay, don’t you?” he finally said. “Miro, you wouldn’t last a week in the salt mines. But it’s good for me to know that under that stubborn surface you’re willing to do what it takes. Sending you to the salt mines is the word I’m going to put around." Ella breathed a sigh of relief, but waited for the catch. "In reality, I’m giving you a choice. Either leave the Pens today, or I’m sending you to Tingara, as a guard with our delegation to the Imperial Chorum. Who knows, you might learn something."

Miro’s face showed cautious hope. "I’m going to Tingara?"

"What will he have to do?" Ella said.

Rogan grinned at her. "Looks like you’re the one with the questions. He’ll be gone for at least three months. He’ll need to serve and protect, and fight if need be, although that’s unlikely. And most of all, he’ll need to do what his officers tell him. Miro, if I get a bad report about you, there’ll be nothing I can do. You’ll be out."

"I understand." Miro nodded.

"Just keep with the story. You’re going to the salt mines for three months. I can place you as a normal guard with the other Alturan soldiers. They’ll just assume you’re a new recruit. Keep your wits about you and you’ll do fine."

Ella couldn’t decide how to feel. Three months! She felt happy for Miro, becoming a soldier had always been his dream, but she couldn’t imagine being away from her brother for such a long time, with only Brandon for company.

She looked at his face; she could tell he was happy that he would be taking a sword into the field, even if it was largely ceremonial.

"Thank you," said Miro.

"Just see that I don’t regret it," the Blademaster said. "When you leave today, take your things with you. We won’t be seeing each other for quite a while.

"You won’t regret it. I promise."

Blademaster Rogan grunted and left.

Ella helped Miro gather his few possessions.

"What’s the Imperial Chorum? It’s like a big meeting of the houses isn’t it?"

"When something important is happening and requires a meeting of the High Lords, either the houses or the imperial house can call the Chorum. It’s held in Tingara, in the imperial capital, Seranthia. The Primate of the Assembly of Templars mediates."

"Why has this one been called?"

"No one knows."

"Do you have to go? Actually, don’t answer that."

He looked at her. "You know I do. If I had to leave the Pens then what would I do? When I’m a soldier and you’re an enchantress we’ll be able to move out of that tiny hut in the woods."

"I like Mallorin," Ella said indignantly.

"It’s not enough," Miro whispered. Ella held her breath. It was so seldom that he spoke like this. Sometimes she thought he’d buried his feelings so deeply that she’d never penetrate the wall he’d built himself.

"We’re happy, Miro, that’s the important thing isn’t it?"

"Happy?" Miro was pensive for a moment. "I’ll be happy when I’m a soldier and can hold my head high."

5

Perhaps having the skin boiled off your bones will help you remember. People, take note, even the High Elementalist can forget his duty. You think renewing a Lexicon is difficult? Try keeping Raj Petrya secure from our enemies.

— High Lord Apit Neffer at the trial of High Elementalist Popan Mimphet, 440 Y.E.

I
T
was the time of the rains.

The sky opened and water came out. The Sarsen grew dramatically high, its banks near bursting. It became impossible to move on the roads; only transport by ferry was possible.

"
Tish-tassine
," Ella spoke the rune, and feeble light glowed from the nightlamp. It barely provided enough light for her to see. Their old heatplate was little better; water took over an hour to boil. They’d run out of coal long ago.

Ella carefully spooned a measure of cherl into the mug, following it with hot water, filling the mug to the top. She added a dash of redspice to mask the fact she was rationing the cherl.

She walked carefully so as not to spill any. "Here you go, Uncle," she said.