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Champion: Part I
Iberian Peninsula City of Toledo Spring, 1081 "Magnificent, isn't it?" A group of horsemen sat staring across the Tagus River gorge at the city that glowed in the sun on the opposite side. The speaker, a small Moor, looked at his nearest companions and white teeth flashed as he grinned at their expressions. "I take it this is your first visit to Toledo?" A tall blonde-haired rider to his left nodded. "We were staying a few miles south of here. Ferret broke camp after we were sent to escort you; we'll meet him in the city. Who built that bridge? It's huge!" "The Romans. We call it Alcantara. But come, we've a ways to go yet, and no time to waste sitting here with mouths agape! I've a royal patient waiting for me." Ian Blackthorn looked back at the men Ferret had assigned him to lead. There was Marcus and Timmons, and Big Harold who was his second in command (but more likely sent along by Ferret to make sure the new officer didn't get himself killed.), as well as the rest of the troops. All of them were excited by the prospect of what delights might await them in the Moorish capital. "Alright, men, you heard Master Ibrahim! Let's ride!" ********** Teo Diaz de Vivar reined his horse in sharply and looked at the men before him. It had been a close thing, but he had beaten them to the middle of the bridge, and now he would do the rest of his duty. "Move aside, there! Make way for milord Ruy Diaz de Vivar, of the Court of King Alfonso of Castile!" He held his banner proudly, waiting for the shabbily dressed group to move to the sided of the bridge. No one moved. "I don't think you understand. Don Ruy's banner has reached the center of the bridge first. By custom, you must step to the side and let him through." The largest man Teo had ever seen walked out in front of the others, holding a huge axe. Then a second man, taller than the first, dismounted to stand beside him. This second man was younger and his clothes were of finer cut. Teo ignored the axeman and looked at the obvious leader. "You look like a reasonable man. Have your men make way, I pray you, before blood is shed." "Are you this Ruy Diaz?" Blue eyes that looked slightly slanted stared back. "No, I am his bannerman; Don Ruy is there." He turned, pointing back at the end of the bridge behind him. Green and gold banners snapped in the breeze as a lord and his retinue started riding across towards them. "Then you may pass. Don Whatever will have to let US pass, for we were here first." Teo was dumbstruck; he shook his head in disbelief. "Don't you realize who you are dealing with, sirs? Don Ruy"- "Don Ruy will fall like any other man my axe hits." The first giant whirled the long about in an intricate pattern, the blade making a "whoosh" at it moved. Then he flung it up into the air, and Teo couldn't help but watch as it flashed back down and then was caught at the haft by its owner. "You can ride on, Teo Diaz, or try to make us move, but you will find it hard, riding a legless horse." "You can't be serious!" "You must forgive Harold. He took a blow to the head fighting against Harald Hardrada's men at Stamford Bridge. He's terribly stubborn about bridge crossings." The younger man gave a bright smile. "I'd move if I were you." "Kinsman? Is something the matter?" Teo turned to see his cousin and his men had approached while he'd been distracted by the axeman. Truth be told, he was relieved to let Don Ruy deal with these lunatics. He nodded. "They will not step aside, milord. I think they are mad." "Really? Is that so?" Don Ruy Diaz de Vivar looked at the two foremost strangers. "Are you truly mad? If so, by God's charity, Teo, we must not harm them. Much." Dark eyes glinted as his men drew their weapons behind them. He flipped down the visor helmet, then took a firm grip on his shield strap. "Now, which will it be? Move, or die?" 01/2001 Champion: Part II "I am astounded, Don Rodrigo!" A third man rode out from the group and bowed gracefully from the saddle, a Moor dressed in fine robes. "I always thought you were a sensible man, a man of intellect." De Vivar lowered his sword. "Master Ibrahim? Is that you? What are you doing in the midst of these rogues?" Even as he spoke, a movement from the axeman drew his attention; the man seemed to be chanting something barely audible, his eyes unfocused, a thin line of bubbles on his lips. The hairs on the back of De Vivar's neck rose. He'd heard of such men, long ago, and the stories of battle madness. "Don Rodrigo?" He turned back to Ibrahim. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" The smaller man's eyes flickered once towards Harold, then back to the Castilian. "I said, I am here by order of your Lord, King Alfonso, may Allah bless him for his compassion. He has sent me to the King of Toledo, who, he has heard, has fallen ill and taken to his bed. Is this true? Is he in dire need?" "The only need al-Qadir has is a spine," De Vivar snarled. "If he sat less on a cushion and more in a saddle he would not have needed Alfonso's help to keep his throne in the first place." "Praise to Allah, then. I shall still examine him as your lord king has ordered, for I find it is good to obey the orders of a king. Don't you agree?" Rodrigo's eyes once more flickered towards Harold; the tall blonde youth was whispering something in the other's ear, but if the man was listening he did not cease his chanting. "You there! What is that he is saying?" "It's Saxon. A death chant, I think. Ravens feeding, axes hacking, that type of thing." He shrugged. " Not very pleasant, I fear." He said all this with such innocence that Rodrigo decided he was most likely some page or squire. "Who is in command here?" The youth smiled, then bowed. "I have the honor, although the Twisted Otters is Captain Ferret's company. My name is Ian Blackthorn." "Yes, that is so, " added Ibrahim. "This Ferret person sent these men to meet my party. Unfortunately, we were beset by brigands; if these men had not arrived when they did, I fear King Alfonso would have been most angry indeed, most angry." "This is Ferret's company? Madmen and bare cheeked boys? Blackthorn had finally succeeded in talking Harold into remounting. He smiled brightly as he took the reins of his own "Well, we do what we can. Now, will you move aside and let us escort the Royal Physician into the city, or am I going to have to let Harold get back off his horse?" He leaned his arm across the horse's neck, his manner at odds with his hard words. His eyes locked with Rodrigo's for a few seconds, and suddenly the Castilian decided not to press the point here. He turned to his men. "Put away your weapons. Let them through" "But, Don Ruy, I was here first!" A disbelieving Teo scowled, backing his horse over to the side as ordered, but obviously not happy. "There'll be another time, Cousin." He motioned the rest of his troop to let the mercenaries ride on, then did so himself. Ibrahim was the first to move forwards, stopping to lean towards Rodrigo. "You know, out of the two of them, the boy or the madman, I'd be more careful round the boy." He lowered his voice. "He's an ifrit, you know." He rode on, to be followed by the boy, who stopped, smiled, and said, "Half- -ifrit " and then he, too began to ride past. A sudden gust of wind blew his hair back, and for a brief moment Rodrigo glimpsed a pointed ear, then the wind shifted and the ear was once more covered. Rodrigo watched them all pass over the bridge, then moved back to the middle of the bridge, looking after Blackthorn and his men. "There will be another time…." 01/2001 Champion: Part III As they cleared the far end of the bridge, Ian looked at Ibrahim. "Who was that man?" "Lord Rodrigo Ruy Diaz de Vivar. He was a friend of King Alfonso's brother, Sancho, and when the old king died, Diaz supported Sancho. He was the armiger regis, the standard bearer, as well as the King's Champion." "A great warrior, then?" Ibrahim nodded. He continued talking as the riders entered the arched passage of the Bisagran Gate and rode through uphill towards the Gate of the Sun. "He was Sancho's general. Then Sancho was killed, and Alfonso became King. Diaz has never been one to hide his dislike for Alfonso's court, so he was replaced as Champion. His service to Alfonso is a tense one on both sides." They passed through the second gate, and Ian and his men suddenly found themselves in the midst of a storm of sound and colors. Ibrahim caught the look on the younger man's face and laughed. "Welcome to the Zorcander, the marketplace. You can find nearly anything here." He let them take it all in as they rode by; then, as they cleared the market, he resumed. "Alfonso even had his niece marry Diaz. Nothing has helped; it is only a matter of time before a final break comes. Alfonso has tried everything." Harold spoke up behind them. "Has he tried an axe blade to the neck?" "No doubt he's thought of it. But Alfonso does not need another civil war; the common folk love El Campeador. The King would rather solve this without killing Diaz if he can help it. Ah, here we are, the Alcazar! No doubt Al-Quadir has quarters for Ferret's men here in the castle. Shall we see?" ******** Something began nagging at the edges of Ian's awareness as soon as the group rode into the courtyard of the castle. Alcazar meant "The Fortress" and it certainly was that; it was simply the largest building of human construction the young-half had ever seen, and with the graceful, soaring towers, it reminded him of the Castle of Green Silences. But beyond the sheer overwhelming size of the place, there was a heaviness to the air, a feeling of powerful magic having been used sometime in the past and now reawakened. Although Ian's human companions seemed unaware of the atmosphere he felt, the horses seemed to do so, becoming reluctant to move and slow to respond to their riders. He could be mistaken, he thought; the skittishness of the animals might be simply their response to the sudden rush of boys eager to earn a few pennies by tending to them as their riders dismounted. Then he turned and caught Ibrahim giving him an intense stare. The Moorish physician shrugged apologetically. "Forgive my rudeness, milord. I'd been informed there were rumors of a feeling of foreboding besetting those who claim to have, shall we say, special abilities as they enter Alcazar. Do you feel anything?" "Aye, " Ian said as he swung down from his horse. "I'm saddle-sore." "Really? I've some salve you might want to have someone apply on that for you!" This brought a loud laugh from the rest of the riders as well as from Ian. He had to admit to himself that Ibrahim was easy to like; the man gave back as good as he got, and with a winning smile. He waited as the Moor dismounted, and idly wondered if there was more to Ibrahim then just being a simple healer; physicians were able to travel if they wished, and had access to places that a royal patron might find of use. They walked towards the steps leading up to the front doors of the main building, Ian leaning a bit to catch what Ibrahim was saying. "There have been two deaths since Al-Qadir took Toledo back. " Ibrahim kept his voice low, no doubt anxious to cause concerns among Ian's men. "Both were well known as magicians, yet all their power could not save them." "How were they killed?" "No one knows for sure. They were both found in their own beds, dead, a horrible expression on their faces as if they died in great pain. My King suspects foul play of some sort and has asked me to look into it." He paused as servants greeted them just inside the door of the palace and began to lead them to the rooms set aside for Ferret's men, resuming only when they were once more on the move. " That is why he sent me, at Al-Qadir's urgent request. The story about the illness is a ruse designed to explain why I am here." "What did the doctors already here think it was?" Ibrahim shook his head slightly. "Poison of some sort. We shall see." They'd reached the second level when the screams began from the long corridor to their left. There was the sound of metal ringing as swords were drawn, and then as one they all began to run in the direction of the screams, nearly bowling Ibrahim over and leaving him to follow as best he could. Halfway down the hallway a sobbing woman slumped to the slick marble floor, screaming something in both Castilian and in Andalucian. Next to her was the half-opened door to the room she had just left. Ian slipped around the doorway into the room, followed by Marcus and a few others. A quick search of the room turned up nothing; nothing , that is, except the body lying in the bed. Ibrahim pushed his way in and went over to examine the body. The face of the dead man was frozen in a look of utmost horror, but there seemed to be no sign of a wound. Ian's whole being seemed full with a sense of evil once more. He looked back over at the bed, and met Ibrahim's eyes. "Well," said the Moor, realizing there was no way to hide all this now, "that makes three" 02/2001 Champion: Part IV An hour later, Ferret sat in a chair across from Ian and listened as the young half-elf described the discovery of the body. "And Ibrahim couldn't tell what had killed him?" "Not immediately. He had the body brought to the healer's quarters so he can examine the body without interference. He said he would inform us if he found anything of importance." Ian glanced down at his hands, frowning. "Out with it, lad." Ian looked up "I'm confused, sir. Al-Qadir is a Moor, and King of Toledo. Yet a Christian king hires us to work for him! Wouldn't Alfonso rather take Toledo away from the Moors?" Ferret tamped his clay pipe, not looking at Ian. "Tell me, how would you go about conquering this city?" He lit the pipe with the flame from a candle as he waited for Ian's answer. "It would be impossible. There's too many walls, dating back to the one . already here when the Roman's first came." "And yet the Romans conquered it, as did the Visigoths and the Moors, each in their turn. How?" "Siege," Ian replied. "They are perched here on this mountain, no space for farming, a limited water supply. A siege would force a surrender." "Exactly! But a siege cuts both ways; it ties up men and resources in one spot. And if you were Alfonso, intent on rebuilding a united Spain, you would be reluctant to lose valuable men and time in a siege if you had an alternative." Ferret stood and walked over to a window, opening it to disperse the smoke from his pipe. "Alfonso is a canny man. He helped Qadir win back his throne, and now he helps keep him on it, so that he can concentrate on those areas where only open war can further his dream. He knows the city will be waiting for him when he is ready to take it for his own." "Then you don't think he is behind these deaths?" "Alfonso is not the type of man to stoop to hiring assassins; he is, despite what Diaz thinks of him, a man of honor." "Would Diaz be capable of it, then?" Ferret looked at Ian. "He really ruffled your feathers on that bridge, didn't he? No, Diaz would never do such a thing. There's no glory in it." He puffed on his pipe. "No, I fear we are facing something much more serious than proud and ambitious Castilian nobles. You yourself said you could feel something here that reeks of evil. Alfonso knows what it is we are up against, but he's far to the south of here. But I'm willing to bet Al-Quadir knows as well. Perhaps it's time you met our royal master." ******** In a room deep in the lower levels of the great castle of Alcazar, a robed figure sat studying a book from the royal library, a history of the siege of the city that the Romans had called Toletum, "Nothing! Not a mention of it! But it's here, I know it is, and I WILL have it! I will!" A hand slammed the book shut, then the speaker angrily fanned the dusty air. He stopped as he heard claws scraping on stone, then turned to confront his servant. "Well?" A small shadowy figure looked up at him, and spoke in a high, rapid voice. The robed man listened intently, then nodded. "You did well to come and tell me this immediately. Go back above and keep close watch on this young stranger. Report back to me if he finds anything about that which I seek, understood?" The creature made an attempt at a bow, scurried off into the shadows in the deepest part of the room and vanished. The seated figure once more opened the book and found where he had left off. "It's here. It's only a matter of time, and then I will find it." 02/2001 |