Young Lord of Khadora (3 page)

Marak and Tagoro marched through the barrack and into their communal room. Each grabbed a chair and Marak quickly peeled off his clan wristbands and removed his boots. He untied his green scarf and opened the tie strings of his shirt. He chuckled as he peered at Tagoro and his friend threw him a questioning glance.

“What’s so funny?” Tagoro asked.

“You,” laughed Marak. “Actually, both of us. After six years in this Army, I still find these uniforms more a costume than a uniform. Light yellow pants and shirts with green boots and scarves. I hope if we ever have to fight in the forest, it will be in Autumn. The wide embroidered belt and headbands are okay, but I would love to toss the wristbands away forever. I can’t stand the way they pull at my shirt when I overextend my thrust. I wonder who designed these uniforms, anyway?”

“The uniforms are the same throughout the country,” remarked Tagoro. “Only the clan colors and clan symbol are different. Why can’t you ever accept things the way they are?”

“Maybe,” speculated Marak, “Khadorans accept too much, just because that is the way things have always been. I don’t like uniforms which hinder my movements and I certainly don’t like wearing one that makes me feel like I glow in the dark.”

“Battles are never fought in the dark,” laughed Tagoro, “and if your enemy is close enough to see the lituk tree on your belt or headband, he should be dead already. You worry about the strangest things. Let’s have a game of Pimic. Maybe today will be the day I whip your yellow pants off you.”

“Not today,” Marak said, shaking his head. “I need to find a way to talk with my mother. I can not continue seeing her treated the way she is. It is not right and I will not stand for it any longer.”

“That line of thinking will only bring you and her more hardships,” worried Tagoro. “How is it that your mother is a slave? You have never talked about it and if you are going to die soon because of your foolish notions, I would like to know.”

“I don’t plan on dying any time soon,” declared Marak. Pulling his headband off, Marak looked quizzically at his friend. “It is not really a secret,” he commented. “I just don’t like dwelling on it. Lord Ridak caught my mother in a lie and forced her into slavery.”

“But why would your mother ever lie?” questioned Tagoro.

“She lied to save my father’s life,” stated Marak. “She lived on one of Lord Ridak’s smaller estates. She did not have the estate Lord’s permission to marry when she bore me, but the Lord did not press the matter. My father was not from the estate and used to visit every week or so. Everyone on the estate knew it, but nobody said anything. Under Lord Ridak’s law, my father could be killed because the marriage was not sanctioned, but my mother’s service was good and the Lord was a kindly man, so nothing was said.”

“Something must have been said or she would not be a slave,” prompted Tagoro.

“When I was six,” Marak sighed, “Lord Ridak paid an unannounced visit to the estate. During his tour he noticed my mother and I and took an interest in her. He inquired where her husband was and she panicked. Lord Ridak had a reputation for invoking cruel justice even where it accomplished nothing, so she told him my father had died. Unfortunately, his interest was more than just passing and he posed the same question to the estate Lord, who told the truth. Lord Ridak immediately claimed her as a slave.”

“Did he kill your father, too?” asked Tagoro.

“No,” answered Marak. “He waited for the next scheduled visit of my father, but my father must have been warned off because he did not show. Instead, Lord Ridak had the estate Lord executed for not enforcing his law and returned here with my mother and me.”

The room lapsed into silence and eventually Marak rose and went to his own room.

Squad Leader Tagoro left the orchard where he thought he might find Squad Leader Marak and headed for the practice site that both squads used. Tagoro was excited with the news he had overheard and couldn’t wait to find his friend. He ran down the path towards the small bridge that crossed the Lituk Creek and hurried to the other side. It was a typical early spring day and the sweet aroma of lituk blossoms filled the air and the cold mountain water flowed swiftly down the creek. Once across the creek, Tagoro turned and sprinted through a small glade of sevemor trees, kicking sevemor cones as he ran. He slowed as he reached the clearing and saw Marak practicing his swordplay.

Marak’s saber lay on the ground alongside his sheath and helmet. In its place, Marak was practicing with a large two-edged sword he purchased from a merchant while guarding a caravan. Marak stepped through the paces of battling with an unseen opponent and Tagoro knew better than to interrupt. Instead, Tagoro quietly sat with his back to a sevemor tree and watched Marak practice. Marak gave a nod of recognition to Tagoro without missing a stroke of his battle as he slashed his sword back and forth, taking advantage of the double edges. Tagoro smiled as he watched. As many times as he had watched Marak practice, his friend always managed to invent new methods of destroying his unseen opponents.

As Tagoro watched, Marak delivered a death stroke to his imaginary foe, but instead of stopping, Marak moved hesitantly and turned in a circle. Tagoro had witnessed this routine before and knew that Marak now faced three unseen swordsmen. The Squad Leader continued to circle as if weighing which opponent would lead off the attack. In a sudden flurry of movement, Marak thrust his sword under his arm and pushed backward to skewer the man behind him. Before the movement actually registered with Tagoro, Marak had already swung his sword forward in a powerful upward slash to slice the imaginary man before him. As the sword sliced upward, Marak sank to one knee and pivoted, bringing the two-edged sword around in a sweeping arc designed to cut the legs out from under his third opponent. Tagoro applauded, but Marak was not finished yet. Marak drew a deep breath and began circling again.

“How many?” called Tagoro.

“Six,” replied Marak as he suddenly burst into action.

Tagoro shook his head but kept his eyes glued on his friend. Marak did not wait for the six men to get their attack coordinated, but charged straight ahead, holding his sword low. When he approached the edge of the clearing, Marak leaped towards his foe with his long, double-edged sword preceding him. The sword stuck in the tree, which Tagoro assumed was the foe, and Marak continued onward in a roll. Marak completed the roll and sprung to his feet while thrusting both hands out before him. Marak was already on his way to retrieve his sword when Tagoro heard the thuds on either side of himself. Tagoro looked in shock as he recognized the two Omunga Stars stuck in the trees on each side of him. Marak ran past the sevemor tree that held his blade, grabbing the hilt as he passed. Dancing to his right, he whipped the sword from behind him in an upward slash and followed through with a lateral slice across the unseen man’s midsection. Quickly, Marak started backpedaling from the remaining two assailants. Turning as if to make a run for it, Marak suddenly pivoted back to his foes and slashed out with a wicked figure eight and a stabbing thrust to remove the last two opponents.

Tagoro applauded wildly as Marak walked over and picked up a towel to dry his face. The warrior retrieved his two Omunga Stars and placed them in the pouch behind his broad belt.

“One thing does bother me with that approach,” chuckled Tagoro. “What if you weren’t able to retrieve your sword out of the man’s body in time? You were heading straight for the enemy without a weapon.”

Marak laughed and thrust his hands outward, flicking his wrists. Both hands immediately filled with throwing knives. “Not exactly defenseless,” chuckled Marak, “although I would much rather have my sword against the three opponents who were left. Besides, they all had swords and I’m sure I could get my hands on one of them. There were three of them who no longer needed theirs by then.”

Tagoro whistled and shook his head. “Remind me never to cut in front of you in the food line,” wisecracked Tagoro. “I have good news for you. I overheard Lord Marshal Grefon talking to Cortain Koors this morning. Lord Ridak’s estate Lords are arriving today, all five of them. He’s pulling Rybak’s squad from the fields as one of the squads to greet the visitors. One of our squads is supposed to replace them and the other will join his squad for the greeting.”

“Great!” exclaimed Marak. “This is the chance I have been waiting for. Finally, I‘ll have the right to talk to the slaves. You don’t mind doing the greeting, do you?”

“Mind?” queried Tagoro. “I can’t think of anything I would rather do. It is not often that a lowly Squad Leader gets to meet the six Lords of the Situ Clan and their Marshals. Being noticed is the fastest way to promotions in a Clan.”

“Wonderful,” remarked Marak. “Today we will both get what we desire the most. I better get back and get cleaned up.”

Marak gathered his gear and joined Tagoro on the walk back to the barracks. The estate was busy this morning as laborers and household staff ran around preparing for the guests. Every spring, Lord Ridak summoned his five estate Lords to Lituk Valley to report on matters of importance to the whole clan. Each of the five Lords would be accompanied by his Marshal and a contingent of forces to protect the Lord. Lord Ridak was not one of the most powerful Lords in Khadora, but his estates covered more territory than most as the Lituk Valley area was sparsely populated.

Marak rushed through the barracks and into his room where he could wash up and put on a clean uniform. As he emerged from his room into the communal officer’s area, he saw that Cortain Koors was waiting for him.

“Having a little trouble getting it together this morning, Squad Leader?” snapped Koors. “I have been looking for you for over half an hour and I didn’t appreciate finding you missing.”

“My apologies, Cortain,” offered Marak. “I felt the need for some early morning sword practice and have just returned.”

Koors turned and looked at Tagoro who was neatly attired and standing at attention. “I have special duties for your two squads for the next three days,” declared the Cortain. “Squad Leader Rybak’s squad is being moved out of the fields to serve as a greeting guard and his people need to be replaced.”

Marak tried to hide his smile as the Cortain stared at the two Squad Leaders. “Lord Marshal Grefon has given the honor of providing greeters this year to me, and two of my squads will be required. Tagoro, your squad will replace Rybak’s and manage the slaves. Marak, your men will form up with Rybak’s and perform greeting duties.”

“But . . . ,” protested Marak.

“But nothing,” snarled Cortain Koors. “I am in command of this Corte and I will decide which squads perform the duties we are required to provide. You will provide greeting services for the next three days, Marak, and if one of your little misfits gets out of line, you will be visiting the slave quarters on a permanent basis. Get your men ready to assemble.”

Cortain Koors spun and marched out of the barracks leaving the two Squad Leaders gaping. As soon as the door to the communal officer’s room had closed an Omunga Star flew through the air and lodged in the wood.

“You must control your temper,” admonished Tagoro. “He is purposely trying to goad you into a confrontation.”

“Perhaps,” mused Marak, “his elimination would be seen as a service to Lord Ridak. Every estate strives to rid itself of vermin.”

“This decision must have been hard for Koors,” suggested Tagoro. “He knows you desire to speak to your mother and, yet, it is an honor to be on the greeting squad. He had to give you one of the two and he would have preferred to give you neither.”

“I think Cortain Koors will have other difficult decisions ahead of him,” remarked Marak as he retrieved his Omunga Star and entered the main room of the barracks.

Both groups of men were already dressed in clean uniforms and were busy checking their attire for spots or tears that might embarrass the squad when the visitors arrived. Marak and Tagoro snapped orders to the men and they filed out of the barracks in two smooth columns. Rybak’s Squad was already assembled and was holding pikes in addition to their usual weapons.

“I will have my Squad handle the gate and road,” suggested Squad Leader Rybak when Marak appeared out of the barracks.

Marak simply nodded. Both squads would have the prestige of performing greeting duties, but Rybak’s men would get to stand down once the Lords had arrived. Marak’s Squad would be pressed into long hours of duty while the Lords met day and night during the next three days. The fact that Rybak’s men already had formed with pikes was not lost on Marak. Cortain Koors had made sure that his pet Squad Leader would have the easiest duty while still retaining the honor.

While Squad Leader Rybak’s men drifted off towards the main gate of the Situ estate, Marak ordered his men into a tight column and marched them towards the mansion. Lord Marshal Grefon, with the distinctive yellow and green plumes and gold trim on his helmet, stood on the porch by the front steps conversing with his two Lectains, whose helmets were adorned with only green plumes. Each Lectain commanded three Cortains who were each responsible for three or four squads. The officers watched Marak’s squad approach and stopped talking when Squad Leader Marak halted the column and saluted the Lord Marshal.

“Squad Leader Marak reporting as ordered, Lord Marshal,” recited Marak.

Lord Marshal Grefon’s face frowned as his eyes roved over the assembled squad. “I thought Squad Leader Tagoro was handling this detail,” stated Grefon.

“Squad Leader Tagoro has been assigned to duties in the fields, Lord Marshal,” Marak answered the unspoken question. “Squad Leader Rybak is handling the main gate and road.”

“Very well,” Grefon remarked. “Lord Ridak and myself will be personally greeting each Lord and Marshal as they arrive. You will assign one man to each Lord and one to each Marshal to act as liaisons. They will have their own aides, but your appointed men will be responsible for whatever they need during their stay. Two of your men will remain on guard outside the Meeting Chamber, day and night, and two will remain on guard inside the chamber. You will remain with me while I am in the chamber and supervise your men when I am not. Squad Leader Rybak’s men will take care of the mansion entrances after the last Lord arrives, but your men are responsible until then. Arrange the schedules of your men and make sure they know the penalty for failure in their duties.”