The Sunset Warrior - 01 by Eric Van Lustbader Page A

normal Freehold cubicles had, some time before, been scooped out and replaced by a series of large indoor courtyards that now served as training grounds for Combat. Each Cycle at his allotted time, he would file into the Hall of Combat, the largest of these courtyards, along with other Students of his age. Half a Spell of strenuous exercise would eventually give way to a lecture on the art of killing and maiming through ritual moves, after which the Students would be paired off for actual practice.
    He had never given much thought to the art one way or another, he was a Student because he had been told to be a Student, therefore he was at best mediocre. Often his mind would wander and his opponent would easily disarm him. This never appeared to bother him, but for the Instructor it was a different matter entirely. Ronin’s indifference infuriated him, and it would not be uncommon for the Student to bear the brunt of his wrath in front of the assembled Class.
    During one practice, Ronin observed a heavy man, almost gross-looking, stride easily into the Hall. ‘Students,’ called the Instructor, and the sounds of iron striking iron ceased immediately. He turned to the newcomer, and with a flourish of his hand introduced him. ‘Students, the Salamander.’ There was a buzz of excited whispering amongst the boys, which the Instructor contrived to ignore. ‘As you know—’ He waited impatiently for silence. ‘As you know, the Salamander is the Sensii of Arms of the Freehold. He is here to observe your progress.’ There was more whispering, and the Instructor was forced to cover another pause by clearing his throat. He looked sternly around the Hall. ‘ Some of you may be lucky enough to be chosen to study with the Salamander himself.’
    Ronin was aware of the undercurrent of envy that ran now through the Instructor’s voice, and he turned to look at the Salamander, but his face, with its heavy jowls, oddly high cheekbones and glossy black eyes, remained impassive. At this moment, the Salamander raised one hand, encrusted with flashing jewels, and in a rich, slightly nasal voice said, ‘Pray continue your practising, boys; do let me see what you are made of.’
    ‘Come, come, Students,’ called the Instructor nervously, clapping his hands, ‘on with it now.’ Almost as one, they turned each to his partner, and once again the walls rang with the clash of metal.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Ronin tried as best he could to keep the Salamander in sight as he commenced his round of the Hall, the Instructor a pace behind him.
    ‘Listen, you,’ growled his practice partner, a huge, brutish Student of mean temperament, ‘it was just my ill fortune to be paired with you this Cycle.’ He grunted as he swung his sword in a vicious arc at Ronin’s stomach. Ronin stepped back, took the brunt of the blow on the edge of his own blade, the force turning it, and there was a sharp scraping sound. A shiver raced up his arm and his fingers went momentarily numb.
    ‘But you will give me a good fight,’ the Student said menacingly, ‘when the Salamander comes our way. I have been waiting—unngh!’ he grunted again as he swung, ‘for this chance for a long time.’
    Ronin, who had been thinking also of the Salamander, said, ‘Korlik, is that his real name?’
    Korlik snorted, as close to a laugh as he could come. ‘Fool!—unhg!—no one knows.’ The blade came whistling at him once again. ‘Why don’t you ask him—unngh!—when he passes by?’ Ronin continued to defend himself against Korlik’s pressing attack.
    ‘Haw!—ungh!—I will tell why you won’t—unngh!—because you are going to be flat on your back, looking at the bottom—ungh!—of my boot. I mean for him to see me and—uhnn!—take me Upshaft. Understand?’
    But Ronin’s attention was focused on the approaching figure of the Salamander; only part of himself was given over to the automatic defence of his person. The Sensii was a mountain of flesh