Warrior Baptism Chapter 2

  WARRIOR BAPTISM

  Chapter Two

  by Jonathan Techlin

  Copyright © 2020 Jonathan Techlin

  Warrior Baptism is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover illustration by Jonathan Techlin

  Based on the photography of MikeyGen73

  This book is dedicated to Mom.

  Table of Contents

  The Trader’s Cave

  Fight!

  A Watery Tomb

  The Thirsty Soldier

  Something Utterly Foolish

  River of Death

  Bonus Content

  The Robbers

  Retribution

  The Trader’s Cave

  The boat was oddly shaped, not even symmetrical, reminding Theel of half a peanut shell split lengthwise, floating in the water. It was further proof that Uncle Guarn had very limited resources. It was a vessel barely seaworthy by its appearance, created and maintained with almost no care. It appeared to be carved from one large piece of wood, a hollowed-out tree trunk, broken in many places, then mended several times with imperfect fixes that leaked noticeably. But it somehow managed to stay afloat, and it was found waiting exactly where Guarn’s instructions said it would be. That was all that mattered.

  Yenia sat in the front half of the peanut shell, a large pile of wooden boxes right behind her. Theel sat in the back, unable to see anything, not just because of the wooden crates stacked between him and his sister, but also because there was no sun where they were, no warmth, and no light. There was only silent, cold darkness, the sort one would find when traveling an underground river beneath a mountain.

  The single torch they carried was fastened to the bow of the boat, offering Yenia a limited view of the direction they were headed, offering Theel no view at all. He saw nothing but the black, square outlines of the crates sitting before him. To Yenia’s vision, the torch illuminated a small circle of black water in the immediate vicinity, which did nothing to show her which direction to go, only provided a last-second warning in the event the boat was headed toward one of the jagged rock walls of the Trader’s Cave.

  Actual direction was provided by a series of fires placed at intervals in the caves, some as small as lanterns hanging from the rock walls, others as large as bonfires burning on the many subterranean beaches. But most of these fires were braziers floating atop airtight barrels anchored down at intervals throughout the length of the river. The distance between these signal fires varied, but whenever a boat traveling on the river came upon one, its crew was able to see the next flaming beacon in the distance, another in a long trail that led through the Trader’s Cave, under the mountains to the Toden River Valley.

  The Trader’s Cave was, in most places, dark and cold, and quiet as death. But it was not entirely lifeless. There were those who lived and worked there, a small but separate society of outcasts whose fortunes never quite bloomed properly in the light of the sun. They inhabited a small number of settlements scattered here and there throughout the caves, some as small as a few shacks built atop wooden stilts that rose out of the water or a few wooden crates stacked around a campfire on a beach. The smallest of these was Candle Rock, home to a single man, the famous hermit named Two Times. The largest was Barter Town, built in a chimney cavern that left the buildings exposed to starlight and an occasional glimpse of the moon, but never the sun.

  Theel and Yenia reached Barter Town just before noondark, the time of day opposite midnight, when the Island of Behe Kang, floating in the sky above Thershon, cast its shadow across the Seven Kingdoms, signaling to all that the workday was halfway to its conclusion. As they entered the chimney cavern, Theel could see the rays of the sun reaching down, cutting the darkness at a sharp angle. The light slowly crept down the cave wall toward the buildings of Barter Town, and was just about to touch the rooftops when the Island of Behe Kang passed by above and snuffed out the light, stopping the hole in the chimney ceiling like a cork in a bottle. Anywhere else on Thershon, the midday phenomenon known as noondark appeared as a black splotch in the sky, with the rays of the sun spreading out around Behe Kang like the petals of a black-eyed daisy. Not so in the Trader’s Cave. Instead there appeared a hazy, brown ring of sunlight high above, as if a dirty halo crowned the rooftops of Barter Town.

  It was one of the oddest sights Theel had ever seen—noondark in Barter Town. It was the first of many odd sights his quest would show him.

  Though the siblings were on the receiving end of many sideways looks from the denizens of Barter Town, no one questioned them or dared block their way. They did their best to look as if they belonged among the smugglers and thieves. They shed their rich clothing, and Theel removed his leather armor of the bullosk. They appeared as two poor oarsmen trying to earn a few hours of the king’s work by smuggling some crates out of the city.

  The wooden boxes that sat between them were mostly filled with fabrics, smuggled in from the Sister Cities. Guarn had intended to trade them, but now Theel and Yenia used them to complete their disguise. The crates on the bottom contained their clothing and supplies, Theel’s armor and weapons, and Battle Hymn.

  The trip through the Trader’s Cave would be long and taxing, but no less so than the steps it took to get there. The siblings spent much of the previous evening following their uncle’s directions up the Southwall, a portion of the city that had overgrown the hills to the south, and partway up the side of the mountain known as the Sky Horn. Theel had hoped to enter the Trader’s Cave via the canals at the base of the mountain, but, as he learned from Guarn’s instructions, that was the way the water flowed into the city, not the way out. To take that route would be to paddle upstream against the currents and against all other river traffic for miles. It would be a very difficult task that, if undertaken, would only serve to draw attention to their escape. Instead, they needed to climb the Southwall, then take the branch of the Trader’s Cave that flowed southward out of the city under the daunting peak of the Sky Horn, eventually joining up with the Toden River. The Toden flowed west, out of the mountains, and toward freedom.

  Climbing the Southwall provided a spectacular view of Fal Daran. Theel had seen the city from great heights many times before, but never from this perspective. Always before, he’d been looking down from the Hall of Seven Swords on the northwest side of the city. The view from Southwall showed him many sections of the city he’d never seen from such a high vantage, including New City and the plains of Clan Aramorun, where the armies of the Iatan were encamped.

  It was the first time he’d seen the invaders, even from a distance—the first time he was witness to the immense size of the army preparing to subjugate Fal Daran. Theel and Yenia reached the top of Southwall at dusk, a time of day that provided just enough light to see the vastness of the encampment. It stretched in all directions, covering every piece of land in sight like a giant sore on the skin of Thershon. But it was also just dark enough that Theel could see the stars that filled the cloudless sky, covering the floor of heaven just as the campfires of the Iatan covered the plains below. The whole scene brought to mind something he’d heard a knight of Aramorun say to describe the numbers of soldiers he had seen marching under the banners of the Iatan Empire:

  “The Iatan look upon the stars with scorn,” he said, “for the light of their campfires burn brighter than all the stars of creation, and outnumber them twofold.”

  That was not the worst of it.

  When they reached the top of Southwall, Guarn’s directions told them to keep climbing until t
hey found a mule trail that would take them around the eastern face of Sky Horn Mountain. The trail led to a secret entrance to the Trader’s Cave, Guarn said, one that neither the Keepers of Law, nor the soldiers of the Witchfinder’s army, would know of. Unfortunately, the trail wound its way up some steep piles of rocks and across the edges of several cliffs, forming a path so treacherous it could not be safely traveled in the darkness of nighttime. So Theel and Yenia waited for a few hours until dawn, trying unsuccessfully to sleep on the freezing, windswept mountainside.

  It was a very uncomfortable night, and it seemed the sun would never rise. But after hours of shivering, chattering teeth, and numbed fingers and toes, the blessed morning finally did arrive, bringing with it some much needed warmth, as well as enough light to resume travel. But it also brought something very unwelcome; a view of what was happening on the plains below.

  A column of soldiers separated from the main body of the Iatan Army, a long, dark line that slithered across the plains like a great serpent of war. They moved southward toward the Toden River Valley, thousands of men, carrying thousands of points of iron, with a thousand histories bathed in blood. Packed shoulder to shoulder on the narrow road, heads down to protect against the whipping wind, their tread spoke the imposing rumble of numbers, displacing dried earth, kicking up a storm of dust that defiantly hovered and obscured much of their strength from view.

  Cavalry rode at their vanguard, riders numbering in the hundreds. As Theel and Yenia watched, these horseman picked up their pace, separating themselves from the column to lead the way into the valley, an action clearly meant to open a path for the infantry to march through the mountains and into the lands of Embriss. Once on the other side of the Dividers, these Iatan soldiers would be less than a day’s march from the western gates of Fal Daran. They would be in a position to close the circle around the city, ready to tighten the noose, and ready to squeeze the heart of Embriss. The oldest and most beautiful city on all of Thershon would be at the mercy of her enemies, waiting to be surrounded, starved, conquered, and destroyed. And there would be nothing in the world to stop it.

  The city would have had a chance of defending itself, in better times, before the king died. But now Fal Daran seemed to be tearing itself apart, with the powerful institutions of the city fighting among themselves and the noble houses choosing sides. And at the center of it all was the senseless battle of religions, with the Church of Aeo blaming the Knights of the King’s Cross for starting the war with the Iatan.

  The movement of the Iatan soldiers clearly showed the failure of the peace negotiations. Noblemen on the Council of Lords who were loyal to the Church of Aeo took a position of appeasement, agreeing to the demands of the Iatan for six hundred able-bodied slaves. It was a price they were wiling to pay, especially since those six hundred would be Knights of the King’s Cross and believers in the prophecy, citizens whose crimes against Aeo made their lives forfeit.

  So many men and boys that Theel knew were caught up in this war, rounded up by the Royal Witchfinder and given to the invading army. It was all in vain. The Iatan were not interested in six hundred slaves. The Iatan were interested in waging war.

  And now, the vast armies of invaders marched. It was an undeniable act of aggression, a non-verbal declaration that there would be no peace for the greatest city in the Seven Kingdoms. Theel knew he wasn’t the only one to see it this way. When he looked up the mountain, he could see that the warning fires had been lit. The city kept lookouts positioned in the mountains to the north and south of the city, monitoring the Iatan armies and all that they did. When the morning dawned, those lookouts saw the same thing Theel and Yenia saw, and those fires were meant to alert the city that the Iatan were on the move.

  It meant terrible things for Fal Daran, but potentially something worse for Theel and Yenia. The Iatan were headed to the same place they were.

  “How many soldiers do you suppose there were?” Yenia asked from the front of the boat.

  “More than enough,” Theel answered.

  “At least four thousand in the lead column, I’d guess,” Yenia said. “Probably twice that coming up behind.”

  “It almost doesn’t matter,” Theel said. “Whatever the amount needed to storm the city, the Iatan have at least twice that moving into the valley. If we ever return to Fal Daran, the city will be unrecognizable.”

  “Is there no hope at all?” Yenia asked.

  “You saw that army,” Theel answered. “You’ve heard what they did to the Eastern Kingdoms. Our brothers to the east were stout men who knew battle well. They did not lie down before the invaders. They fought, and they were destroyed. The Iatan do as they please, go where they please, and take as they please.”

  “Fal Daran has never fallen to an invading army,” Yenia stated.

  “That is true, sister,” Theel said. “But Fal Daran has never been tested by an army such as this. And past wars have been fought with sure leadership. The king is dead. Qendall Kile rules the city, now. And he listens more to the Oracle of Tetiyat than to his own wisdom. He thinks some sun god is telling him to betray his own people and sell them into slavery. I find it difficult to believe such a man will lead us to victory.”

  “Fal Daran needs the Knights of the King’s Cross more than ever,” Yenia said. “But instead, the greatest warriors of the Seven Kingdoms are hunted down and sold into slavery. It is a madness too terrible to contemplate.”

  “Then we must not contemplate it,” Theel said. “We will worry about what those armies mean for my quest and our ability to escape from this doomed city. Nothing more.”

  “They were marching into the Toden River Valley,” Yenia said. “They are marching precisely where we are headed. We will probably reach Axelhead before the infantry arrives, but not before the cavalry.”

  “I’m sure you are correct, sister,” Theel agreed. “You, more than most anyone, understand the capabilities of skilled horsemen.”

  “The Iatan cavalry is among the best,” Yenia added. “It is unfortunate we were forced to abandon Raveling’s charger. That was a well-bred and well-trained animal. He would have carried us far ahead of the Iatan.”

  “He may have been a well-trained animal, but I’m certain they didn’t teach him to climb mountains,” Theel said. “Or to swim in underground rivers. Do you think he would have fit in this boat with us?”

  “We are traveling too slowly,” Yenia said. “I wish we were on the roads, riding horses.”

  “Of course you do,” Theel retorted. “Horses are all you care for. I’m surprised you weren’t born with four legs.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “And hooves.”

  “You have a finely honed command of mirth, brother,” Yenia chided. “But we have many miles ahead of us and we can’t float our way there. We will have to walk eventually, and you will have no jokes to tell when you become footsore.”

  “You’re right, little sister,” Theel said. “Neither my humorless jabs nor your fondness for four-legged beasts will move this boat faster. And speed is our best hope right now.”

  The siblings rowed for a time without words. Only the darkness kept them company, and the sounds of their oars dipping into the black water. The boat floated past an airtight barrel, and for a moment, Theel enjoyed the crackling of the fire and the feeling of warmth on his face. But shortly after, they were again enveloped in darkness and the lonely rippling of the river.

  “What do you think will happen to Uncle Guarn?” Yenia finally asked.

  Theel took a deep breath, hating that the question was necessary. “I think he will survive,” he answered. “He always has.”

  “He no longer has Father to protect him from men like the Royal Witchfinder.”

  “Neither do we,” Theel said. “We no longer have Father either, but we must learn to live without him. I think Uncle is better equipped for that than anyone.”

  “Raveling died in his tavern,” Yenia said. “The Kiles will not forgive t
hat.”

  “You are right, sister,” Theel agreed. “They won’t care that Uncle played no part in Raveling’s death.”

  “It feels wrong to run away like this,” Yenia said. “When Uncle Guarn needs our help.”

  “We are not running away,” Theel argued. “We are running toward my quest. Besides, Uncle Guarn wouldn’t accept our help if we offered it.”

  “I hope he is safe.”

  “He will be safe if the Kiles understand I am their true enemy,” Theel said. “Perhaps, hopefully, they will spend their resources chasing us and leave Uncle alone.”

  “You wish for the Kiles to send their armies after us?”

  “I do not fear the Kiles,” Theel explained.

  “Perhaps you should,” Yenia said. “Father taught us to be strong, not to be foolish.”

  “I am not being foolish,” Theel retorted. “I merely understand what I am facing. This quest is going to kill me. If the Kiles ever catch me, they will find nothing more than a rotting corpse.”

  Yenia sighed. “Not this again.”

  “I apologize for inconveniencing you with truth, little sister,” Theel sniped.

  “You are not speaking truth,” Yenia said. “You are voicing the opinion of a grieving son who feels responsible for his father’s death. Your feelings of guilt have led you to believe self-flagellation is the way to salvation. It is not.”

  “Tell me, my wise and pious sister,” Theel said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “What is the way to salvation?”

  “When you are lost in your own torment, truth is the only way out,” Yenia explained. “Right now, you are not allowing yourself to see truth.”

  “Then see the truth for me, dear sister. What is the truth I so desperately need to see?”

  “The knighthood did not assign you a quest for Warrior Baptism expecting you to die.”

  “You are wrong,” Theel said. “They did. They expect me to die. They need me to die. As long as the squire remains alive, the honor of his masterknight remains tarnished.”