CHAPTER TWO
Phaelenx
Phaelenx Cobbler stood in the chill night air for a long time, watching the slim figure make her way back to the royal compound. He knew that he had seen her somewhere before – perhaps in the arena, before one of his fights. Either way, Phaelenx could tell from her speech, her attitude, and the costly ermine lining her cloak that she was very well-heeled.
I’ll probably get a summons tomorrow, for harassing the wife of some idiot royal, Phaelenx thought, rolling his eyes. Just because some men can’t keep their women at home doesn’t mean I have to look out for them. Just as he was about to turn and head towards his home, he remembered the gold coins Selene had thrown on the ground. Phaelenx hated the idea of taking money from anyone, especially a royal, but he knew his father would be pleased with the loot. Phaelenx grunted as he stooped to the ground and picked up the golden coins, slipping them into the pockets of his breeches.
Maybe this will get us another week’s worth of meat, Phaelenx thought as he began walking home in big strides that were oddly graceful. The gods know we could use it.
Phaelenx didn’t usually make a habit of wandering about Zheka in the darkness, but it was an exceptional evening. He had a skirmish with some other Zhekan men in the morning, and sometimes night walks relaxed him. Phaelenx enjoyed meandering down to the harbor and watching as the traveling men and bards spoke of foreign lands. While Phaelenx was content with his lot in life – fighting in service of Queen Zornaya – he sometimes wondered about what life outside of Zheka would be like.
Like many other native Zhekans, Phaelenx had never been outside of the country. He had traveled to the border, once, with his father as a small child. Phaelenx had never forgotten the sense of wonder and amazement that had flooded his senses upon seeing the Glasulian border – a very different country from Zheka.
Phaelenx crossed the sloping lawn and looked over his shoulder at the castle. The sky was just beginning to turn pink and orange with the first light of dawn as he made his way into the village and into the modest yet comfortable home he shared with his father, Darius.
“Sir! You’ve been out all night again,” Brenna said, putting her hands on her hips. “You know your father won’t like this at all!”
Phaelenx resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the cook. “I’m fine,” he said, suppressing a huge yawn. “I just went for a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”
Brenna’s sharp eyes darted down to Phaelenx’s pockets. “Aye,” she said, raising an eyebrow on her wrinkled face. “And you just happened to come home with money, did you?”
Phaelenx shrugged and grinned. “A lady was in trouble,” he said, narrowing his eyes as the memory of the beautiful young woman popped into his head. “I saved her. She thanked me – with this.”
“Well, let me see,” Brenna groused. “We’ve been needing some coin, anyway.”
Phaelenx pulled a few of the coins from his pocket and handed them over. When Brenna saw the royal insignia, she gasped.
“Sir! These are from a royal person!”
“Yes,” Phaelenx said, gritting his teeth. “She was quite haughty. I’m sure she thinks very highly of herself. You know, she didn’t even thank me for my assistance.”
“Phaelenx!” Brenna said sternly. “You cannot behave so arrogantly around the royal family.” She narrowed her eyes. “And just who was this lady, anyway?”
Phaelenx shrugged. “She didn’t give me her name,” he said. “But I’m sure she’s back home with her husband, safe and sound.”
“What did she look like?” Brenna suddenly looked nervous. “And does she know who you are? Does she know how you find you?”
Phaelenx shrugged again. He found himself becoming tired from the short interaction with the cook.
“I do not know,” Phaelenx said. “She said she recognized me – perhaps from the arena.”
Brenna sighed. “Tell me of her looks,” she said. “You may be in deep trouble, Phaelenx. What if you offended another royal? A man, who could challenge you to death?”
Phaelenx snorted. “Like they would have any chance at winning,” he said. “You know I am the strongest man in the realm.”
“Still, you must be careful!”
“She had long, dark hair, tied at the back of her neck,” Phaelenx said. “Tanned skin – like she spends a lot of time outdoors. And her eyes…” He trailed off, trying to remember. “They were icy,” he said. “Blue.”
Brenna was looking at Phaelenx in shock. “Sir, that’s lady Selene Covendane, cousin to the High Commander!”
Phaelenx frowned. “And?”
Brenna shook her head in exasperation. “Sir, she is unmarried! What if you are charged with assault? Or worse – rape?”
Phaelenx rolled his eyes. “I was saving her from another man, someone who was trying to tear at her cloak. She was screaming for help. I doubt that I’d be in trouble with anyone.”
Brenna clucked her tongue. “Sir, you know it doesn’t work that way with the royal family. They do what they want, when they want, however they want to do it. You know that!”
Phaelenx yawned. He pulled the rest of the gold out of his pockets and set it down on the table. “Here,” he said. “Take this, I don’t care. I am going to sleep.”
Brenna put her hands on her hips. “Your father isn’t going to be pleased with you,” she said. “Not one bit!”
Brenna’s shrill cries lingered in Phaelenx’s ears as he climbed the ladder to the loft, where he slept. Suddenly, he felt more tired than ever. Stripping out of his tunic and breeches, he lay down on the straw mattress and pulled a thick coverlet over his muscular body. Whenever he closed his eyes, annoyingly enough, he saw Selene there, proud and haughty and beautiful.
Phaelenx thought about Brenna’s warning. It was true that his father, Darius, likely wouldn’t be thrilled about his escapades in the night. But Brenna had always been like that – as fussy and cautious as a mother hen. She’d come to live with Darius and Phaelenx shortly after Phaelenx’s mother, Tryphaena, had died of a mysterious illness. Phaelenx had taken to Brenna almost instantly – the way she cared for him and his father endeared her to them both.
Phaelenx yawned and rolled over, nestling his head against the pillows. It was only a short matter of time before he fell asleep.
By the time Phaelenx awoke, the sun was shining high in the sky. Beams of yellow light filtered through the roof. Phaelenx sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, yawning loudly as he stretched. He felt as if he’d gotten no sleep at all, but he knew that he needed to get up. There would be a skirmish today, and Phaelenx was expected down at the arena with the other warriors.
Phaelenx washed his face and hands in a bowl by his bed, then dressed in his tunic and leggings from the day before. He climbed down the ladder and strolled into the kitchen, where his father, Darius, was sitting at a wooden table with a bowl of porridge in front of him.
Darius raised an eyebrow at his son. “Brenna told me you had quite the adventure last night,” he said, fixing Phaelenx with a stern gaze.
Phaelenx nodded. “I’m not sure I would call it an adventure,” he said slowly. “I assisted someone in danger.”
“A lady. A royal cousin, Brenna tells me,” Darius replied. “Phaelenx, you must be careful.”
Phaelenx resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Father, I am well aware.”
Darius sighed. “I do not mean to scold you,” he said. “But son, this is quite important. You must stay away from the royal family.”
Phaelenx nodded. “Yes, Father,” he said. “I know. This girl – Selene – she was in trouble. She was being attacked.”
“No doubt by another member of the royal family,” Darius countered. “And that man could have you killed!”
“I couldn’t just leave her,” Phaelenx said. “And she paid me, did Brenna tell you that?”
Darius nodded. “That, at least, was welcome news.”
Phaelenx sat down at the table. He and his father fell into an uneasy silence, only interrupted by the patter of Brenna’s feet against the stone floor.
“Ah, I trust you slept well!” Brenna chirped. She placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of Phaelenx. It was loaded with chunks of meat, carrots, and potatoes, and it smelled heavenly.
“Thank you,” Phaelenx said. He frowned, dipping his spoon into the thick brown liquid. There was much more meat than usual.
Brenna smiled proudly. “I am sure you will do very well today,” she said.
Phaelenx nodded. He had long ago become used to the nervous jitters he felt before competing with the other warriors. Now, he barely even noticed them. Dipping his head close to the bowl, Phaelenx quickly ate the stew, drinking the rich broth when he was finished. He handed the bowl back to Brenna, who dipped into a slight curtsey before carrying the bowl outside to be washed.
“I know you are disappointed with me,” Phaelenx said to Darius. “But trust me – I am sure the girl will say nothing. She was very unhappy, and I am quite positive she will be far too embarrassed to bring the matter to attention.”
“It is not her that I am worried for,” Darius said. “It is the other young man.” He shook his head. “Son, you know Selene is famed for her impetuous nature. She has rejected three suitors – all powerful royal cousins, the type of men who would love nothing more than to attack you.”
Phaelenx shrugged. “I can take them,” he said. “There is not a man in Zheka who could beat me.”
Darius looked dismayed. “A little humility would serve you well,” he said slowly. “Now, please – excuse me. I must begin my work for the day.”
Phaelenx frowned. His father yawned and stood up from the table, rubbing his gnarled hands. He worked as a cobbler – a successful one, but that didn’t exactly mean a life of prosperity. Phaelenx hated the sight of his father’s ruined hands, twisted and bent from years of sewing and repairing shoes for the wealthy. Phaelenx brought in a decent wage as one of the kingdom’s most powerful warriors, but he longed for the day when Darius would finally announce his retirement.
It can’t be long now, Phaelenx thought as he watched his father settle into a chair and pick up a lady’s brocade slipper. He seems to be worse off with each new day.
Phaelenx could hear the clock in the castle square chiming the hour. He got to his feet and tucked a morsel of bread and salted meat into the leather pouch he wore at his waist. There was no point in bringing a flagon of water to the arena – wenches and children sold drinks outside, and Phaelenx and the other warriors always took a few moments to rest in between fights.
The day was beautiful. As Phaelenx walked the short distance across town, he noticed children scampering about and playing in the grass and dust. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the warm rays of the sun made Phaelenx feel almost sleepy after his heavy meal of stew.
The arena was a familiar sight – a huge coliseum made of stone and marble. Phaelenx walked around to the side entrance, then into the large arena and began to stretch. Other warriors stretched and lunged, sometimes pausing to burst into laughter as they talked. The warriors of Zheka were an odd group – close knit and friendly, yet willing to slaughter each other limb from limb at the first order. Cages with beasts – tigers and lions and bears – were set strategically around the arena. The sight of the Tigers, their mouths dripping with saliva, was the only thing that made Phaelenx nervous.
“Greetings,” a man called. Phaelenx looked up to see Brutus, another warrior. Like Phaelenx, Brutus was a large man. He was tall, muscular, and covered in tattoos, scars, and dried blood.
“Hello, brother,” Phaelenx replied. He shielded his eyes from the sun and relaxed his muscles before dropping into a low stretch.
“What news?”
“Nothing,” Phaelenx said. He yawned. “Just another day.” Phaelenx wasn’t about to tell Brutus – or anyone else – of his adventures the night before. He knew the other men would mock him relentlessly for saving a spoiled royal woman. The warriors, although they respected Zhekan royalty, were not necessarily inclined to show devotion to the royal family who held their lives in such little regard. Phaelenx was well aware that the warriors were scapegoats – since Zheka was a peaceful country, the violence in the arena was prime entertainment, especially for the royal family.
“You seem tired,” Brutus said. He gave Phaelenx a mischievous grin. “Feel like a skirmish?”
Phaelenx chuckled. “My muscles are still cold,” he said, dropping low into a squat. He raised his arms high above his head and balled his hands into fists until the familiar ache and tension went shooting into his shoulders and the muscles of his back.
Brutus grinned and chuckled. “Such has never stopped you before,” he said. “Come, Phaelenx.” He brandished a shining gladius, passing the sword to Phaelenx.
Phaelenx grinned. “Challenge accepted,” he said, swinging the short lethal blade through the air with practiced ease. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and summoning the will of the gods into his body. Before every fight, Phaelenx always found himself calm and relaxed. Fighting was the one thing Phaelenx was naturally good at – even when he had been a boy, he’d been capable of defeating some of Zheka’s most decorated fighters.
Brutus held a brass gladius in his hands, squatting low on his haunches and spreading his feet wide. The two warriors faced each other, moving in slow, calculated circles. When Phaelenx had his back to the sun, he swung his gladius through the air.
Clang!
The metal swords clashed together in an ear-piercing sound that drew applause from the surrounding men. Phaelenx didn’t take his eyes away from Brutus as he darted and danced on both feet like a nimble gymnast. Brutus swung his sword towards Phaelenx and Phaelenx leaped back with agility and ease. Brutus made a face, spitting on the ground.
“Curse you! Even when tired, you’re a beast!”
Phaelenx suppressed a grin. He pressed his lips together and squinted against the sun as Brutus launches towards him. Brutus’s gladius sliced through the air, coming dangerously close to Phaelenx’s ear with a cool whish of air. Phaelenx retaliated, moving backward and holding his gladius firmly in front of him, jabbing at the air before Brutus’s chest.
“Arugh!” Brutus cried out in pain as Phaelenx pierced his flesh, dragging the blade of the gladius down his chest until a line of crimson appeared. Blood spattered the dirt under their feet as the two men moved together, intimately as lovers. Brutus jabbed wildly into the air and Phaelenx leaned back, letting the blade slice by his throat with only mere centimeters to spare.
Brutus staggered forward and Phaelenx grabbed his wrist, twisting it painfully behind his back. Brutus cried out again and Phaelenx pulled him close before shoving him powerfully to the ground. Brutus collapsed on his back, his eyes pleading with Phaelenx.
Phaelenx growled, putting a powerful foot on Brutus’s chest. He leaned down and pushed the blade of his gladius against Brutus’s throat until a faint drop of blood appeared.
“Well?” Phaelenx raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Have I bested you?”
Brutus growled. “We will decide that another day,” he said, his mouth twisted in obvious discomfort.
Phaelenx chuckled and took his foot away. A moment later, he leaned down, extending his hand to Brutus. Brutus accepted and Phaelenx pulled him to his feet.
“Really, you should have just killed me,” Brutus said, smirking. “My debts aren’t exactly getting smaller by the day.”
Phaelenx threw his head back and hooted with laughter. “And then I would be responsible for them, brother,” he replied. “I think I’ll keep you around for longer.”
Brutus frowned.
“What?”
“I am not sure,” Brutus said. He shielded his eyes from the sun. “Does it not seem strange to you that no one else is fighting?”
Phaelenx cocked his head to the side and frowned. “It is strange,” he said slowly.
In the time Phaelenx and Brutus had skirmished, the arena had emptied. It took Phaelenx a moment to notice the warriors had gathered by the main entrance to the coliseum – the entrance that they, as fighters, were not even allowed to use.
“What are they doing,” Brutus muttered under his breath. He was breathing hard and his chest was covered in blood. “Normally our performances garner a bit of cheer.”
“Come, brother,” Phaelenx said, not taking his eyes away from the clustered group of men. “There must be news.”
The two men jogged across the arena, joining the clump of warriors gathered in the shade. One of the men grunted at Phaelenx and tossed him an orange. Phaelenx peeled the flesh from the fruit and sucked it greedily before dropping the dried slices onto the dusty ground.
“What is happening,” Phaelenx hissed to another warrior, Thracian.
“News from afar,” Thracian replied in a low whisper. “News of Nasenia.”
Phaelenx frowned. “Nasenia?”
“Quiet, please!” A man called loudly. Phaelenx had no trouble stretching up to his full height and looking over the heads of the other warriors. “There is news!”
Yes, obviously, Phaelenx thought in irritation. These lazy men would look for any excuse to divert from training! No wonder I’m the strongest one of them all.
“Tell us, stranger,” Phaelenx called. “Tell us what is happening.”
“As many of you know, I am a traveling bard,” the man said loudly. He cleared his throat. Phaelenx couldn’t help but chuckle – compared to the bulky Zhekan warriors, this man was tiny. He was sinewy and lean, almost catlike. And he was at least a full head shorter than the smallest Zhekan warrior.
“Tell us!” Brutus yelled. He made his hand into a fist and pumped the air, prompting a fresh gush of blood from the wound to his chest.
“There is a sickness, a plague,” the bard said nervously, clearing his throat. “In the land of Nasenia!”
“Nasenia,” Phaelenx said dismissively. “They are to the south, by quite a distance. Why should we care about their plight?”
The bard eyed Phaelenx, staring at him with such coldness that even Phaelenx was taken aback.
“Sir, you should take care to watch your tongue,” the bard said coldly. “Nasenia is in the grip of a terrible illness – an illness that is wiping out the entire population, hundreds of men, women, and children – all dead at one time!”
Phaelenx rolled his eyes dismissively. “That same rumor was spread last year, and the year before that,” he said loudly. “How can you expect us to be fearful of something that isn’t even true?”
The bard looked offended. “Hold your tongue, sir,” he said. “I am merely a messenger.”
“I’d bet anything you haven’t even been to Nasenia,” Phaelenx grumbled under his breath. “I bet you have no idea what you are speaking of.”
“Phaelenx, perhaps this rumor holds water,” Brutus said slowly. “Perhaps you should not be so quick to judge.”
“And perhaps we should all get back to what we are here to do,” Phaelenx said loudly. He felt angry, for a reason he couldn’t quite explain. “And perhaps, we should stop gossiping like women!”
The other warriors turned to Phaelenx and narrowed their eyes. “You are not in a position to order us around,” Thracian replied coldly. “Perhaps you should leave if you are so displeased!”
Phaelenx rolled his eyes. “I will,” he said. “And when you are all ready to resume practice, please let me know.”
The other warriors were silent as Phaelenx brushed past them and began the arduous walk home. He knew there would be gossip, and talk about him. But Phaelenx didn’t care – he was a warrior, not some man paid to stand around talking to foreign bards who were likely lying.
It seemed like the whole kingdom was losing its mind.