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Chapter 11
Brutal Justice
Judgement Hall was the crown of Epilas with a ring of towers circling the domed building and a grandiose stairway leading to it’s arched doors. At the base of the steps sprawled a magnificent courtyard that overlooked the entirety of the city and the sea beyond.
The red light of the setting sun touched every piece of the city from the towering white towers, past the barracks buildings and training yards and the sprawling city beyond, down to the wooden and steel warships docked at the harbour. The bay itself shimmered in orange and red, the mainland beyond a thin strip of black outlined against the red sky.
You would expect at the center of the courtyard for there to have been some ostentatious fountain or a grand statue of Queen Elyina but this was Judgement Hall—the seat of the Reldoni military and so at the center of the courtyard was a raised duelling ring. The steps curved around the ring like an amphitheatre, now filled with Reldoni soldiers and court officials.
When the court fails, challenge by combat prevails. A Reldoni proverb Femira had learned. In Keiran, the law was the word of an Honorsword. She supposed it wasn’t so different.
Either way the strongest make the rules.
The two Keiran Honorswords clearly knew enough of Reldoni law that they could challenge any person to a duel, and the person challenged could fight themselves or name a champion.
They could also just refuse, like any sane person should. But to refuse meant dishonour, especially when a high ranking military officer was challenged.
Knight-Marshal Mattice was not a young man. He had the arrogant bearing of a man who was once a seasoned fighter, but most of his hair was grey and his weathered face showed that this was not a challenge he could rise to himself. Being one of the highest ranking officials in the military the Knight-Marshall would never have been expected to face the Honorword himself. And so he had chosen a champion—one of Garld’s elite bloodshedders—a Foebreaker named Sadrian Graves. Garld seemed annoyed by the choice of champions, protesting at first. Insisting that Knight-Marshal Mattice choose from one of his division, but the Knight-Marshall out-ranked Garld and Prince Landryn allowed the decision.
Femira stood on the steps of Judgement Hall overlooking the duelling ring. At her side was General Garld, Prince Landryn and a dozen other high ranking officials, having been summoned by Garld once the court had been dismissed. She tried her best to hide in his shadow.
They were ringed by armed guardsmen, these might all be experienced fighting men and women but clearly no chances were being taken with the pair of Honorswords. Their reputation was clearly known throughout the northern Kingdoms. Up close, Garld wore a concerned expression, he was evidently displeased that one his bloodshedders lives was being thrown away because of some high-and-mighty Marshall.
It is a waste. She’d been told that the bloodshedders were Reldon’s best, their strongest and most skilled soldiers but she knew the stories of the Honorswords.
Red eyes and no mercy, entire villages slaughtered.
Her heart began thumping faster again.
Sadrian Graves wore the all black uniform of a fully trained bloodshedder, his armour and helm also painted black, giving him a menacing demonic appearance. He stepped into the ring, his long curved blade drawn. On the other side, Honorsword Karas in his golden armour, his sword was longer than the Reldoni blade, it was straight and thick with both edges sharpened. To any normal person the blade would have seemed impossible to wield, far too heavy for use in a duel. It was the kind of weapon you could imagine a yak giant from children’s stories, cleaving scores of men in a single swing.
“I think you should reconsider allowing this, Prince Landryn,” Garld advised as the two combatants walked to the center of the ring, “you can still call this off.”
“A challenge of combat is lawful and a long standing tradition,” Landryn responded, “I have long valued your judgement. But I cannot deny this request, not when it is made against one of our own Marshalls.”
“A formal apology would be more than enough—”
“—We cannot afford to appear weak, General,” Landryn cut him off pointedly.
“Graves is not ready to face a full—”
“—I will not argue this matter further with you,” Landryn affirmed, silencing Garld with a hard look.
“We shall give these Keiran’s a taste of Reldoni skill,” Knight-Marshall Mattice boasted, “your bloodshedders are unparalleled, Garld. I have heard the reports of their effectiveness at Altarea… In fact, another matter I wish to discuss with you is re-deploying some of your elites to my border skirmishes with the Rienish.”
“That is for the Prince to decide—not me,” Garld said although his tone was clear that he did not approve of the suggestion, and then shifted the conversation back to the matter at hand, “these men are here to make a show, we should be cautious of walking into whatever game they are playing.”
“These Honorswords came to make a reprehensible claim against our Prince. We cannot stand for it,” Mattice responded sharply and Landryn nodded in agreement. Femira suspected that this Mattice guy had really just been saying what the Prince had wanted to but couldn’t. He’s got to pretend to be gracious all the time, I suppose, being a Prince and all.
“You shouldn’t underestimate the Honorswords, Knight-Marshall,” Garld warned, “I have heard reports that they fight with inhuman skill. I believe they may have discovered a Soulstone.”
“Your belief in fables and myths grows tiresome, Garld,” Mattice replied, “they’re men—just like the rest of us, don’t be fooled by those red eyes. A mere trick of bloodstone—Besides, Sadrian Graves is one of your finest Foebreakers I hear and I will assume that he is now in possession of our newly acquired Altarean stormstones too. He will make short work of this foreign bastard.” Garld did not seem appeased. Femira remained silent as he had instructed her to when his guardsmen had escorted her to him after her outburst in the hall. She wanted to add to his statement, to express the danger of a single Honorsword, let alone two. What was that he’d mentioned about a ‘Soulstone’? She’d never heard of something like that.
It sounds valuable.
Reldoni tradition allowed the use of runewielding in duels, and so the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight had given ample distance from the duelling ring. It was not uncommon for stray fragments of rock or ice to inadvertently strike a bystander. Honorsword Jahasa brazenly stood at the edge of the ring, clad in his matching gilded armour.
“Insult has been made against His Grand Excellency,” Jahasa announced, “as Honorswords we are duty-bound to defend his name.” Honorsword Karas raised his hefty blade and assumed a strong footed fighting stance to which Sadrian Graves matched. The two slowly circled each other weighing up the opposition.
Being a Reldoni, Sadrian was notably taller and had more reach but Karas was powerfully built and his longer sword made up the difference. Sadrian made the first assault; he moved with such lightning speed that Femira couldn’t even follow the swing of his blade. The swords clashed as Karas parried and pressed back. Femira had yet to face a Foebreaker in the sparring yards, but she had heard the other recruits mention them; a class of master duelists and—as the title suggested—specialised in breaking their opponent’s morale.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
She didn’t know exactly how they did it but what she understood was that the Foebreakers could wash their opponents with crippling fear so overwhelming that it left them unable to raise their weapon in defence. Evidently Sadrian Graves’ abilities were ineffective against Karas’ resolve as the Honorsword he launched another aggressive swing of his blade. Sadrian leapt back deftly in an exaggerated jump.
Yes this man certainly carried a stormstone.
Airpushing with a stormstone could give you extra lift in a jump or a more powerful swing but it wasn’t strong enough to actually hurt your opponent, she’d learned. A well placed airpush could knock your opponent off balance however and in a duel, that could determine if you lived or died. Their effectiveness in battle is what had given Altarea an edge in resisting the Reldoni for so many years.
Karas was on him so quickly that Femira suspected that the Honorsword must surely also be carrying a stormstone.
But then again, maybe the stories are true. Maybe the Honorswords aren’t human anymore.
His blade crashed against one of Sadrian’s steel pauldrons obliterating it with a loud and terrifying crunch. The impact forced Sadrian back, blood now flowing from his shoulder and dripping on the stone.
It’s over, Femira thought, watching as the Karas went in for another decisive swing. This wasn’t a display of fancy footwork or swordskill, this was a demonstration of the Honorsword’s raw strength. Sadrian dropped to a crouch, a pillar of rock forming suddenly in front of him, bursting up from the pavement in front of him.
Femira gasped, she had heard that the bloodshedder stonebreakers could form stone quickly but a pillar of rock as thick as a person—and formed in a seconds breath—she would have thought impossible. So far she had only managed to form a few rocks and even then it took her a few minutes to properly combine all the tiny grains of sand and compress them, to form a pillar this size would require more focus than Femira could imagine.
It didn’t slow Karas’ assault, his great sword shattering the pillar in a cloud of dust and debris. Sadrian had used the rock shield to give him time to roll out of Karas’ range. He slumped on the side he was bleeding but still held onto his sword with his other arm.
Femira noted the dust and sand drawing towards him as he absorbed it into his concealed earthstone. A sharpened length of stone formed beside him; it was called a stone spear—a technique that Femira had seen diagrams of a book Aden had lent her—the stone spear launched toward Karas fast as a bolt loosed from a crossbow but the Honorsword’s blade whirred and obliterated the projectile as it shot toward him.
Sadrian had obviously expected the Honorsword to dodge the projectile rather than deflect it and had readied two more stonespears that now fired uselessly to either side of Karas. The Honorsword didn’t allow Sadrian to draw in more earth and rushed him again with his intimidating blade. Sadrian managed to sidestep but his movements were slowing with his wound. Karas’ blade struck the ground where Sadrian had been and then in a quick twisting manoeuvre, he dropped to a knee swinging up at the Foebreaker catching the man’s armoured breastplate. The twisting attack didn’t have enough force to break the plate itself but it made a sharp ear-splitting screech as the blade slid against the plate. While the strike hadn’t been intended to be fatal, it pushed Sadrian off balance and in the moment of lapse, Karas planted his feet and swung again with a murderous intent. The swing carrying all of Karas’ force, the blade struck against Sadrian’s helm in a sickening thunderclap as the steel blade cut through the helm and skull. It wasn’t a clean strike that cleaned the man's head off as the stories often depicted, the enormous sword was wedged firmly in Sadrian’s helm and likely the skull beneath. Karas let go of the blade, letting it fall with his opponent as Sadrian’s body crumpled.
The crowd was left speechless at the display. It was not the practised sets of swings and parries that they expected from Reldoni duels. This had been a butcher taking strong and powerful cleaves. And the butcher had won, defeating one of their best duelists in a frightful succession of brutal attacks.
Keiran law is the judgement of the Honorsword.
Knight-Marshall Mattice had a face of open shock. Prince Landryn was impassive and worlessly turned to walk back up the steps to Judgement Hall, the retinue of guards attending him. Garld remained beside Femira.
“A reckless waste of a good soldier,” Garld turned darkly on Mattice, “next time you let your temper rule your tongue, at least sacrifice one of your own soldiers—Or better yet, step into the ring yourself!” He snapped and turned to leave the speechless Mattice on the steps.
Garld didn’t give her any command to follow him, but what else would she do? She didn’t want to be left in sight of the Honorswords. The Prince may have said she was under Reldoni protection but she wasn’t about to linger around and let them threaten her into leaving with them. Garld didn’t protest as she accompanied him back to the barracks. She had spotted Aden and Jaz also watching the duel from the steps and decided she would catch up with them later. She had questions for Aden about the duel that she needed to ask him.
If Sadrian was Foebreaker, why was Karas able to stand and fight against him? If what she had heard about them was true, he shouldn’t have even been able to move.
The deep shadows of the evening light were starting to claim the main thoroughfares, some of the tall gaslamps were already lit giving the streets an orange glow.
“You were smart to fear the Honorswords,” she said eventually on their walk.
“I don’t fear them,” he replied, “I just disapprove of the thoughtless expenditure of good soldiers for a cause that achieves nothing,”
“You’re not afraid of that?” she asked incredulously. Had he not just witnessed the same display she had?
“Man-on-man I wouldn’t want to face one but—from the reports of our contacts in Keiran—there aren't that many Honorswords. They might be formidable opponents in a duel, but I would trust in any small strikeforce of bloodshedders to overwhelm one quickly enough on a battlefield.”
“So that’s the plan? Just recruiting more of us to throw against them?”
He stopped, his face stern, “at what point in this conversation did it sound like I thought of any of my bloodshedders like that?”
“Sorry,” she said, and then hastily added, “but you are recruiting heavily. There’s already been nearly a hundred new recruits since I got here—Are you preparing to fight the Keiran?”
“Since when did a thief care about world politics more than her next score?” Garld asked with suspicion.
“I’m not exactly sure what I am anymore,” she replied indignantly, “you’re having me train with the other bloodshedders but I still don’t know why I’m actually here? You said you had a job for me. One that only someone of my skills could achieve so why am I sitting in courtrooms pretending to be some highborn?”
They had arrived at the main barracks building where Garld’s office was, he motioned for her to follow him inside.
“You’re right,” he said, “I have not put your talents to use yet. Your training is still a necessity, your stonebreaking is impressive but that alone will not help you if you’re caught during any of your assignments.”
“I don’t get caught,” she replied.
“I caught you,”
“And you convinced me to work for you… If you hadn’t,” she shrugged, “I would have ran.”
“You’d have been dead before you left the room,” she opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a raised hand. His expression made it clear it wasn’t a point he wished to discuss further. Her training with the other bloodshedders had taught her that maybe she wasn’t as quick as she thought.
Not as quick as Loreli. Certainly not as quick as Sadrian… or an Honorsword.
“Today’s events have worried me,” he conceded, “the Honorswords I believe are not human… At least not anymore. I want your help understanding what they are. How they became what they are.” At the mention of the Honorswords, Femira tensed.
Blood flowing in gutters, an Honorsword’s word is law.
“This has something to do with the soulstone?” She asked. His eyes narrowed, he countered her with a question of his own, “what do you know of it?”
“It’s what I found in Altarea,” she answered truthfully. And whatever it is, it’s definitely worth more than what I’d thought.
“I believe the Honorswords may have one of their own.”
“Is that why they’re so strong?” She followed up, but he didn’t answer her. He still doesn’t trust me yet. Well that’s fine, I don’t particularly trust you either. He also had full right not trust her, if she had the chance to skip out with the soulstone, she’d take it. Where do you even sell something like that?
A moment passed and Garld was still quiet in thought. The silence made Femira feel awkward and uncomfortable. She hoped what ever plan he had for her it didn’t include the Honorswords.
“You want me to spy on them?” she asked apprehensively, her voice cracking a note. Garld was pulled from his concentration and looked back at her.
“No,” he said with a calming tone, “In fact, I want you to stay as far from those Honorswords as you can. Your Lady Annali identity is far more valuable to me and I don’t want the Honorswords’ presence in the city to threaten that. Your first assignment will not be so dangerous as that.” She relaxed, a tension in her shoulders she hadn’t even known she’d been holding was loosened.
“So what do you need?” she asked.
“I want you to do what you do best and steal something for me.”
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