The swordmakers secret t.., p.1
The Swordmaker's Secret (The Adventures of Desolation Boxster Book 4), page 1
Book Four
By
Guy Antibes
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Author’s Note
Map of Jarkan, Okora, & Brachia
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Desolation Boxster Characters
Excerpt From Book Five of the Series
A Bit About Guy
Books by Guy Antibes
Copyright Page
Copyright ©2020 Guy Antibes. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
~
This is a work of fiction. There are no real locations used in the book; the people, settings, and specific places are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, locations, or places are purely coincidental.
Published by CasiePress LLC in Salt Lake City, UT, December 2020.
www.casiepress.com
Cover Design: www.ebooklaunch.com
Book Design: Kenneth Cassell
Editing: Amy Hoffman
Principal Reader: Bev Cassell
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Author’s Note
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I wanted to challenge the main character being plopped by himself in a strange land. This episode has more action, but it also moves the overall plotline considerably forward. Keeping the series moving along can be a challenge. As I write this, we are in a second wave of covid19 infections and the epidemic has become too large a factor in everyone’s lives. It affects my writing, so look for a scene where a prevention measure makes a guest appearance.
— Guy Antibes
Map of Jarkan, Okora, & Brachia
Chapter One
~
“I
’m no god,” Des said, after being confronted by a tribal headman. “An ancient magic brought me here.”
Des wanted to grab the handle of his sword, but even though the tribesmen were much shorter than he, there were too many men holding conventional weapons in the crowd. He couldn’t rely on his immunity to magic here. As he stood trying to figure out what else he could do, more of the tribe crowded around him.
He wished he could withdraw back to the mountain, but the enchanted stone chair that had brought him to this plain had stopped glowing after he arrived, and that meant that the magic had been spent, and Des could not restore any kind of spell.
“This way, outlander,” the headman said. “Answer me honestly, and you may live to see the sun set. My name is Turgul Manusa, and I run things around here. Your name?”
“Des Boxster. I was born in Presidon.”
Des didn’t feel the fear that some might, but he was concerned he was without the means of communicating with his friends left in Viksar.
At least the mace had melted and perished in the fire that destroyed the Blue Tower. That would help stabilize the country. He was confident that open knowledge of Hester Blisek’s treachery would thwart her plan to become the queen of Viksar, but he doubted that would be the end of the chaos that the woman had started.
His current dilemma was more immediate, and he had no idea or strategy to escape a place that he didn’t know, except the headman had recognized his Jarkanese sword.
These thoughts ran through his head while he followed the headman escorted by most of the camp. Des followed Manusa into his tent and sat down on unique rugs of a design he hadn’t seen before. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to Brother Yvan’s teachings about other countries, he thought, while people filled the tent.
“You say you aren’t a god?” Turgul Manusa said as he settled into a large chair.
Des sighed. “I am a soldier of fortune,” he said. “I found a hidden chamber in the capital city of Viksar. You have heard of Viksar?”
The headman nodded. “Of course I have. I’m not a savage.”
They looked like savages, Des thought.
Des took a deep breath and gave a very abbreviated version of what happened in Jiksara. “The seer of Viksar and a powerful magician put spells in the sword. Since I don’t have any magic, I could use the stored spells to activate the chair and ended up here. It is Dryden’s will.”
When Des mentioned Dryden, there was murmuring in the tent, but they spoke their own language among themselves. A short, thick warrior stepped forward and pounded on his chest, talking excitedly. He pointed at Des and his Jarkanese sword. The people in the headman’s tent shouted out encouragement that Des couldn’t understand.
“You have an interesting tale, but as you talk, it becomes clear to me that you may be speaking lies. I misspoke when I thought you might be god, but I’m growing more convinced that you might be a devil instead. If you are a devil, you have no right to carry one of our holy swords. Akku has challenged you to a fight for the truth. Whoever lives will keep the sword.”
Des looked at the tribal members, who appeared to understand what Manusa had said in Des’s language. “What if I refuse?”
“You will be deemed a devil and put to death, but less nobly, stoning by our women and children.”
“I will accept Akku’s challenge,” Des said. He would rather die by a blunt sword blade than being battered by rocks. “When do we fight?”
Turgul Manusa rose from his chair. “Immediately, of course. No armor, so take that leather thing off. It is vaguely familiar. I’m not sure you should be wearing it in Jarkan.”
Des had to wait for the tribal members to exit the tent before he left. Two of the tribe’s warriors stood at either side of him, carrying short spears and urged him on when the tent emptied. At least Des wasn’t unfamiliar with dueling, but he was more concerned about the rules.
The tribe stood around a big square drawn in the dirt in front of the headman’s tent with one of the plainsmen holding Des’s cuirass.
“I will take your sword,” Manusa said.
“But how will I fight?” Des said with a sinking feeling.
“A fair fight means you fight with the same weapons. Fighting with a holy sword gives you a large advantage. We use ironwood swords.”
“Wooden?”
“Yes. Wooden swords aren’t as sharp, and a fight to the death takes longer. We all look forward to the spectacle,” the headman said with an evil grin. Des wasn’t the devil here.
A woman brought out two swords. They looked identical to Des. Akku grabbed one and bent it over his knee and checked the edge, and then he nodded to himself and stepped back.
“You can choose now,” Akku said without any kind of accent.
Des didn’t have a choice, but he would still examine the weapon. When he checked the edges, there were inches worth of very blunt edges, and when he bent it over his knee, the sword cracked. “I have to use this?” Des asked.
The headman laughed and brought another sword. “Try this one. You are entertaining us if nothing else.”
This sword was in much better shape, and the bending didn’t break the blade from one side or the other. Ensuring your weapon was in perfect condition was something that the original Desolation Boxster had drilled into his head.
He had expected the same shape as his Jarkanese sword, but this was different. The wooden sword had a strange balance to match the unique shape of the blade. Des wondered if this fight would be his last. Akku began to warm up, so Des swung his sword around and did a few practice forms, getting used to the balance and observing his own moves to discover what advantages the sword might have.
Akku stood and watched Des’s actions, but Des didn’t have a good enough feel for the wooden blade to make purposely awkward moves.
“Enough! You have shown us that you are no stranger to a sword. It is time to fight,” Akku said.
Des stepped toward the headman but kept the point of the sword down to keep any nervous tribesmen from taking his movement wrong. “Does this have to be to the death? I have no reason to kill this man,” Des said to the headman.
“I have the power to stop the fight,” Manusa said, “but don’t think I will spare you.”
“I’m thinking more about Akku.”
The man howled behind him at what must h
That would push Des into the crowd at the side of the circle, and he didn’t trust the tribal members not to help their champion when Des came within reach. It was time for a little offense. Des swept his sword, pushing Akku’s blade farther on one side of his sweeps, and hit the blunt edge of the back of the sword against Akku’s hip. The tribesman winced, but he didn’t break his grip as he swung back. Des was ready for the move and jumped back, making the tip of Akku’s sword miss.
Des still needed more time to get used to the wooden blade, so he assumed the attitude that he was sparring. He had done so innumerable times in his life, and Des knew he could take the blows from a wooden sword. The ironwood swords’ edges on both blades had already been knicked and blunted from their match.
After taking more than a few bruise-raising blows, Des finally acquired the feel for the weapon that Akku had. Des shuddered to think of someone dying from a beating with the sword. There was no ability to perform a killing blow, putting an end to the match.
Akku missed with a thrust, and Des slapped the blade’s side against the shorter man’s ear. In a short time, blood began to flow down the side of Akku’s jaw. Des kept at the man’s ear. They were both taking punishment, but Des held to the one spot until Akku began to lose his balance. If nothing else, the constant blows to his head took a toll on Akku’s concentration, and Des’s opponent was starting to miss with regularity.
Des planted his foot on Akku’s chest and pushed the man back on his rear end. Akku sat heavily on the ground and stayed there.
“I don’t want to punish this man further. He has fought a worthy fight,” Des said.
The headman stepped into the circle and went to Akku. “Are you satisfied, my son?” the headman said.
Akku looked up at his father, the headman, and pulled his father’s head down so he could speak in his ear. Des couldn’t understand what few of the foreign words drifted his way. The headman straightened up as Akku laid back in the dirt, the sword falling from his hand.
The headman’s face had a stricken look. “I will return your sword and tell you where you are and where you must go, for I will only let you go if you promise to fulfill a quest for me.”
Des nodded and went to Akku’s side, wishing that Brother Yvan or Glynna were with him. He began to stanch the blood still flowing out of Akku’s battered ear.
Akku’s eyes met Des’s. He raised his hand to Des, who took it.
“Thank you for your forbearance. I was convinced you were a devil and our goddess would give me the strength to kill you. It is you who had Selara on your side. I wish you no ill will. You have made yourself worthy in the eyes of our tribe to carry your sword.”
Akku wanted to say more, but he was carried away, leaving Des alone in the ring. He sighed and returned into the headman’s tent. The leader of the tribe held the sword in both hands, outstretched for Des to take it.
“You have a mission for me?” Des wanted to get back to Viksar, but perhaps he would be in a better position to travel back to Jiksara after he completed his promise.
The headman nodded. “I didn’t believe you could defeat my son. He was impressed.”
“I hope that he recovers,” Des said.
“I believe you,” the man smiled for the first time. “The promise. I am sure you are eager to know the burden I have placed upon you.” The headman took a deep breath. “I want you to go to Argara and unite the worship of your Dryden and our Selara.”
“But Selara is a woman,” Des said.
Manusa nodded. “And Dryden is a man, or at least I think he is. They need to be married and end the hostility that has plagued Jarkan for centuries.”
Des couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. “How can I possibly do such a thing? I’m not even a cleric.”
“There is a way,” the headman said. “Mino Kawis, the man who made your sword knows. It is up to you to extract his secret.”
Chapter Two
~
T wo days later, Des ambled into an outpost. There was a general store, a blacksmith, a leathermaker, a Jarkanese guard office, and a ramshackle inn along with assorted housing haphazardly littering the area. The inn didn’t have a proper stable, so Des tied up the plug of a horse that Turgul Manusa had given him. The headman claimed the horse would make it to Argara, but some of the tribe had laughed as Manusa said it. The railing was filled with horses, and wagons surrounded the inn, as well.
At least the tribe had given him a wallet of the Jarkanese paper money accepted as coinage on the plains. No one would accept foreign money, but they told Des that he could get his purse converted in Argara. He walked into the common room and had to ask to join two men sitting at a table, the only open spot that Des could see in the place.
The two men, both older, grizzled, and decked out in plainsmen’s clothes, gave Des hard stares. “What’s a foreigner doing out here?” one of them said.
“Traveling to Argara,” Des said. He looked at the dark brown liquid the men drank out of crudely made thick glass mugs. “Is that stuff any good?”
The men laughed. “Boy, would we be drinking it if it wasn’t?”
Des nodded, but he thought that if that were the only alcohol available, they would. A server walked up to the table. “I’ll have some of that to drink,” Des glanced at the mugs, “and whatever you are serving to eat.”
“Antelope stew,” she said.
Des had never had antelope. He only knew it was an animal unique to the plains of Jarkan. “Then antelope stew it is.”
The men studied Des, but their looks were more amused than hostile. “Are you good with that sword?” one of them asked.
“Better than average,” Des said. “It was made in Jarkan.”
“I thought so,” the man said. “Where are you from, and what are you planning to do in Jarkan?”
Des thought that answering the men’s questions was their compensation for letting him sit at their table. “I’m originally from Presidon, and I’m on a job to find someone in Argara.”
“Who?” the other man asked.
“I’ve been tasked to find the man who made my sword.”
One of the men snorted. “Tasked. That’s a fancy word to use. You sound educated. Who gave you the task?”
Des sighed. “Turgul Manusa. He’s the headman of a tribe to the east.”
“We know Turgul,” one of the men said, who sat up straighter. “You travel in high company.”
The man seemed serious.
“Turgul Manusa has a reputation?”
“You are a foreigner.”
Des’s food came, and the two men looked at each other before draining their mugs and left Des without another word. He watched them mount horses and ride out of his view. Des tried the drink, and it tasted like beer with spice in it. It was quite a bit heavier than Zinkel’s ale, but Des could see someone classifying it as tasty, even with his single exposure to the brew. The antelope stew was another matter. Des could see two distinctly different kinds of meat in the concoction, and the flavors didn’t mix very well.
He forced it down, not knowing how long he would be on the plains. Turgul had said he had a five-day ride ahead, but Des had no confidence in what five days might mean on the plains. He was only thankful that he had almost completed two of them.
Des walked across the dirt track that comprised the main road going through the hamlet and entered the store.
“I’ll need a blanket and some food to tide me over until the next town,” Des said to the shopkeeper.
The woman gave Des a knowing smile. “Not going to chance it across the street?” she said, referring to the inn.
“No. I’ve already had my fill of the place. I ate an early dinner there.”
“I’ll put some gear together. Where are you headed, Argara?”
Des gave her a rueful smile. “I’m a foreigner, aren’t I?”
“Indeed you are, and a tall one. Won’t be a minute. You aren’t the first nor the last who will spurn Hornu’s place.”
