Steel And Flame (Book 1) (21 page)

The three friends and Marik retreated to the hill’s
base to reclaim their little patch beneath the tree line.  Chatham grumbled
about having to find the rocks in the dark for the fire ring that he had taken
the trouble to kick apart that morning.  Even Harlan chimed in, stating it was
too late to set traps for the daytime wildlife who would be nested down
already, and too dark to set overnight traps for the nocturnal prey.  Maddock,
as always, added little to the discussion.

Marik felt too tired to think about anything while he
unrolled his bedroll.  It had been a long day.  His wounds ached with a
throbbing heat.  Tomorrow would be much tougher than today, he felt sure, and
he wondered how well he would deal with it.  He drifted off, unable to stay
awake and share in whatever fare Harlan would cobble together over the fire.

With one-hundred-twenty men washing out the day
before, the second trial needed to eliminate a further fifty.  Marik gazed at
today’s field of combat.  That would certainly be no problem.  Most likely
there would be at least fifty men injured so badly they would need the
Homeguard to carry them away.

Kingshome’s northern hillside was barely shy of being
a cliff face.  To Marik, the differences were merely technical.  Scattered
patches of scrub grass would provide inadequate traction in the loose soil and
gravel covering the slope.  Rocky protrusions representing serious obstacles
were sprinkled about the steep grade.  The town bordered the southern edge of a
natural rock field, the rolling stone waves scarring the heavily forested land
of Galemar. Incursion into the town from the north would be impossible for any
but foot soldiers.

How difficult would this trial be?  He had squeaked
through yesterday’s culling round because he had impressed the officers in one
of their criteria for judging fighters.  Could he do so again?  After the
throbbing in his face had receded during breakfast, a heady elation had
thrilled through him.  For the first time he had stood alone, relying on no
other person, forging his way solely with his own skills.  This was
his
choice, and he would stand or fall depending on his worthiness.  Marik intended
to fight hard and earn it.

“Groups of three against groups of three!  One will
start at the west point, the other at the east,” shouted Janus’ grating voice. 
He pointed at two separate boulders halfway down the hill, both painted red to
stand out from their brown brethren.  “Time limit is half a candlemark. 
Failure to demonstrate your ability will result in expulsion.  You, you there,
and you up there!  You’re the first group.  Choose weapons and talk to the
officers.”

The first three men chose from the wooden practice
weapons piled beside the judging tables, which had been placed in a leveled
niche at the slope’s edge.  Old and weathered, the flat surface had obviously
been dug out many years ago, affording the panel a clear view downward.  After
the men identified themselves, the clerks shuffled papers and the officers
re-interviewed them.  Janus selected the second group while the first picked
their way down the steep slope toward the eastern start point.

“One more thing; the object of the battle is to
capture your foe’s boulder!  Victory goes to the team who accomplishes this. 
Also, boundary lines of the top and the bottom of the hill are in effect. 
Crossing these lines disqualifies you!”

The first group scowled from where they had paused
several dozen feet downhill to hear the delayed announcement.  They spoke
quietly as they continued the remaining distance.

Watching this battle from overhead gave the other
applicants an opportunity to see the tactics employed by the first two teams. 
How the men chose to complete their task would be interesting.  This test would
show the judging officers which men could think when they needed to, among
other combat capabilities.

The east group left one man by their boulder.  He
chose to conceal himself behind a large rock formation near at hand.  His
teammates went high and low respectively, the first slipping while he clawed
his way up the scree-covered slope, the second nearly tumbling down to the
bottom.  When each reached a comfortable level, they began a careful advance to
the west.

The western group chose an all-out attack; one high,
one low and one in-between.  They advanced faster than their counterparts so
the first confrontation occurred on the field’s eastern side.  Close to the
top, the two high men encountered each other.  A fight ensued.

West struck.  East caught the blade with his own, but
lost his footing and slid downhill.  The western fighter took advantage.  He
pressed his attack by striking his opponent’s shoulder.

East lost his blade.  Instead of trying to recover it,
he lashed out, grabbing West’s ankle.  Surprised and on unsure ground to begin
with, West lost his balance.  He tumbled downhill to collide with an outcrop
several feet below.  East began searching for his fallen blade while favoring
his bruised shoulder.

During their fight, the eastern low man had caught
sight of his own counterpart.  The other man advanced slightly higher on the
slope.  East chose to avoid pressing an attack uphill.  Instead he attempted
subterfuge.  He moved from boulder to boulder when his opponent’s movements
blocked his sight line.

It seemed to be working until the western fighter
became aware of the man avoiding him.  He angled his path down the slope rather
than straight across it.  East realized this and froze, but West had already
closed to within two boulders.

Digging in behind the boulder to await his foe must
never have occurred to him, Marik thought, since he instead stepped from behind
his shelter to break for the next outcrop.  West anticipated the move.  He ran
downhill, his ironwood sword raised for an overhead strike.  East lifted his
blade to defend.

The blow crashed against his sword with enough force
to reel him backward, slipping and then falling down the hill.  West also
slipped several feet before grinding his heels into the scree to find
purchase.  He studied East, who looked to keep tumbling until he reached the
next kingdom, then resumed his march to the eastern red boulder.

Marik had lost sight of the middle man for the western
group.  The high man for the east regained his blade and moved on unhindered. 
He left the western high man where he lay on his rock, his sluggish movements
suggesting a blow to the head.

Middle West appeared moments later, emerging from a
line of outcroppings that formed a small ridge near the eastern boulder.  He
surveyed the terrain and found no one to challenge.  The man advanced
cautiously rather than in an all-out run.  It was a wise decision, as proved
when the remaining eastern guard attacked.  West blocked the first slash,
dodged the quick follow up, then both men slid downhill.

Serendipity shone on them.  A larger patch of the
tough scrub grass grew below and they found surer footing.  They traded blows,
their skill with the blade appearing to be equal.  West pressed hard as he
could to drive East back several steps yet failed to land a blow.  The last
strike forced the defender onto the loose slope.  East fell to his back and
rolled downhill once before recovering.

They were fewer than twenty feet from the eastern
boulder.  The guard scrambled uphill to renew his defense when a startled shout
caught both combatants’ attention.

East’s fall had sent a cascade of gravel down the
hillside which in turn sparked a miniature scree avalanche, much to the
surprise of the western low man whose stealthy creeping from below had gone
unnoticed by the fighters.  Suddenly engulfed in a debris shower, he threw
himself flat on the steep slope and covered his head with his arms.

The eastern guard backed to a smaller outcrop that
offered a bracing foothold.  He shifted position, preparing to take a double
western attack…except Janus’ voice, amplified by his horn, floated across the
field.

“Hold, all of you stop!  Judges have declared an
eastern victory!”

“What?” shouted the middle man for the west.  Unable
to view his own boulder due to the fragmented landscape, he could not see the
eastern high man leaning against the west’s base.

“All of you come back up!  You there, can you walk?” 
When he received no reply from the western high man, who still moved confusedly
on his rock, Janus sent the Homeguard to retrieve him and check on the one who
had tumbled to the bottom.

*        *        *        *        *

Post-battle interviews with the teams consumed more
time than the day before.  Eventually the judges decided on the four men who
had remained mobile and expelled the other two.  Both losers were bound in
several bandages.  The band officers allowed the high man for the western team
to stay on the sideline until his head cleared.

Later in the morning Janus picked Marik from the
crowd.  He noticed the opposite group contained two men as big and bulbous as
Beld.  The third member was Harlan.  Wonderful.

“Your names again, please?”

“Marik Railson.”

“Dietrik Balledry.”

“Folsom Metlag.”

The officers reclaimed the relevant pages from the
clerks.  They read while Marik eyed the small sandglass sitting on the table. 
Through the narrow waist dribbled the remaining grains from the previous
half-mark time limit.  That battle had ended surprisingly quick.

“You’ve seen enough to know what’s expected.  You have
half a candlemark to complete your objective.  Choose a weapon and take the
eastern point.  Leave your packs there with the Homeguard.”

Marik and Dietrik both claimed ironwood swords while
Folsom chose a broad bladed axe.  Half climbing, half sliding toward their
start point, Dietrik spoke to his new companions.  “Right, I’ve noticed that
all the chaps who have left their boulder unguarded have also lost them to
their opponents.  We need to leave one of us here while the others make the
attempt for capturing the enemy camp.”

Marik nodded.  “I noticed the same.  Who should stay?”

“Me,” grunted Folsom.  “I want my back to the stone.”

“Maybe you should take cover behind one of these other
rocks.”

Folsom glared at Marik.  “You don’t tell me how to
fight, swaddle-clothes!  I could take you anytime, so don’t you forget it!”

Dietrik intervened when Marik’s temper rose.  “Now,
now, never mind that!  See there?  The old man’s about to call a start.”

Above, Janus lifted the horn to his mouth.  “Time is
starting!  Two quarter-marks!”

“So there!  We need to hurry.  Folsom can take defense
if he’s so keen on it.  Do you want to go uphill or down?”

Marik exhaled deeply.  He let it carry his irritation
away with it.  “Uphill always has the advantage and usually wins one-on-one. 
Let’s both go uphill and across.  No one else has done that yet.”

Dietrik nodded.  “A good idea, perhaps.  But we need
to hurry.  Their lower men will reach our base unchallenged.  Let’s be off.”

They scurried back up the slope, trying to be quick
and find purchase at the same time.  Rushing only broke the ground free
underfoot.  After much slipping to his palms and knees from the disintegrating
ground, Marik reached a height he felt satisfied with.  Since the other man was
of slighter build and a bit smaller than himself, despite being a few years
older, Marik decided to take the point, motioning for Dietrik to continue
higher.  He started across, scanning the rocky hillside for opponents.  It
looked clear, but all these outcrops made it difficult to see very far at
ground level.

He quickly found moving horizontally across this
terrain to be very hard on the ankles.  Moving while fighting would be nearly
impossible.  If he encountered the other team he would need to stand his
ground.

Halfway across he caught movement ahead, slightly down
slope.  A big bruiser slunk near an outcropping.  Marik crouched behind a
boulder while making a quick gesture to Dietrik.  His companion saw Marik’s
wave.  When he located their opponent, he nodded back and also crouched low.

The other fighter advanced slowly.  He must have
traveled the same speed as them to reach the midpoint when they did.  His
sudden caution suggested he might have sensed their presence.  After quick
consideration, Marik made several motions to Dietrik he hoped the other man
would interpret correctly.  Then he moved.

Marik emerged from behind his boulder with his sword
carried low, concentrating mostly on his footing and glancing around quickly. 
He carefully avoided looking directly at the man he wanted to trap, watching
him only from the corner of his eyes.

At first the other did not see him.  When he did, he
froze, then sidled back behind a rock.  He watched hard.  Since Marik gave no
sign he was aware of anyone else’s presence, the giant should decide he had not
been spotted.

Marik continued his slow trek, guessing at what his
foe would do.  In his place, he would wait until the opponent was just about
there
. 
Then he would spring and hope to catch his foe by surprise.  If that happened,
his best option would be to jump downhill a few feet to that flat area over
there.

The place Marik chose was an outcrop protruding from
the steep hillside, its top worn nearly level in a natural platform, which
should make for solid purchase.  It looked like a wedge driven into the
hillside.  If he miscalculated though, he would fall over the far side, which
jutted several feet above the lower slope, and probably tumble all the way to
the bottom.

He had nearly reached the oversized bruiser.  It would
be best to initiate the next actions himself.

Suddenly stopping, he looked straight at the larger
man, pretending to see him for the first time.  He raised his sword to the
ready and took two steps forward.  This placed him directly above the flat
outcrop he had chosen.