The Affinity VI (standard:adventure, 4593 words)
Author: Ian Hobson	Added: Jan 05 2009	Views/Reads: 3953/2203	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
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honour of addressing Lord Manados?' 

'You do indeed.' Manados looked me up and down, clearly unimpressed by
my dishevelled appearance, as I was still dressed as I had been on the 
day I arrived at the garrison.  'You are not of this country but you 
intend to fight alongside us, is that correct?' 

'It is,' I replied. 

Manados continued to look at me as though I was something unpleasant he
had just stepped in, before turning to look towards the enemy 
encampment.  'I suppose mercenaries have their uses.  Though we are in 
a good defensive position here and I expect that King Ungstred will 
soon tire of this... But even so, no women on the ramparts!'  He glared 
at Lieutenant Aesteban, and then at Layana who gave another quick 
curtsey before wisely making herself scarce. 

'Trouble,' said Kello.  He was still gazing over towards the enemy where
he had spotted a small group of horsemen leaving the encampment and 
riding towards us.  'And if I'm any judge of horseflesh, that leading 
mount is fit for a king.' 

'The rider is certainly dressed like a king,' I said, noting the way his
highly polished breastplate reflected the sunlight.  'A king ready to 
do battle.'  At that moment two of the accompanying horsemen unfurled 
the banners that they were carrying, allowing them to stream out and 
flutter in the breeze. 

'Have our archers make ready,' Lord Manados ordered Lieutenant Aesteban.
 'If King  Ungstred has a death-wish, I'll be happy to oblige him.'  At 
this, Kello let out a huge belly-laugh and slapped his sides as though 
he had just been told the funniest joke ever.  'What is this man 
laughing at?' Manados demanded in an angry tone. 

'The banners,' Lieutenant Aesteban answered. 

'What about them?' Manados, looking perplexed, stared towards the
riders. 

'The green and grey banner is King Ungstred's, but the other one is
red.'  Aesteban looked expectantly at his commander, who slowly turned 
pale as he realised the red banner's significance. 

'You mean?' 

'Yes, sir.  He is challenging you to armed combat.' 

14 – The Red Banner 

'Ha!' Lord Manados tried to make light of his predicament.  'As if
Ungstred would abide by the rules of such an engagement.  His archers 
would use me as target practice the moment I left the safety of the 
castle.  He must believe I'm a fool.' 

'I think not,' I said.  'More likely he believes he can win.  I which
case your men would have to stand down and surrender the castle.' 

'There will be no surrender!' exclaimed Lord Manados indignantly. 

'But if you were to win the fight, my lord,' said Lieutenant Aesteban,
with enthusiasm, 'then his men would have to withdraw; they would have 
no alternative.' 

'He's right,' said Kello.  'To do otherwise would anger the gods and
risk each of them being cursed forever.' 

Manados began to chew his lip as he stared towards the approaching
riders.  Before they came within range of our archers, King Ungstred 
took the red banner from his aid and waved it to and fro.  There was no 
need for an exchange of words. The age-old challenge of armed combat, 
between the commanders of two opposing armies, was known to all: it was 
death to the vanquished, and to the winner went whatever was at stake.  
In this case, the castle and everything in it, though the defenders, or 
aggressors, would be free to go. 

Unless, of course, the winning side reneged on the agreement, as
happened when the commander of the Dralman army killed the king of 
Salamnan and then went on to slaughter his followers.  That had 
happened centuries before, but the story, in one form or another, was 
known to all fighting men, especially the part where each man in the 
Dralman army was made to suffer the pain of their victims until, in 
despair, they all took there own lives.  Such was the curse of the 
gods. 

'You must reply,' said Kello gravely, 'with the red flag of
acceptance... or the white flag of cowardice.' 

'Bring a red flag,' I said to Lieutenant Aesteban.  'Quickly.' 

'But!'  Lord Manados was almost pissing himself with fear.  He knew that
if he took up the challenge it could easily mean his death, but if he 
were to refuse to fight he would be branded a coward for the rest of 
his life.  He stopped chewing at his lip and, though his eyes still 
showed his fear, he pulled himself to his full height.  'Very well,' he 
said.  'I will accept the challenge.' 

I was impressed; he was more of a man than I'd thought.  'Brave
decision,' I said, placing a hand on his arm.  'But perhaps the wrong 
decision, unless you truly believe you can win.' 

'I am not a coward!' he said, shrugging off my hand. 

'Indeed not,' I replied.  'You have proved that by your own words, just
now.  But what is important, above all else, is that our side should 
win.  Stand down as commander and let me take your place.' 

'You?'  For a moment, his eyes showed some of the contempt they had
shown me earlier but, rapidly, a look of relief spread across his face. 
'Do you believe that you can win?' he asked. 

'Yes,'  I said.  'But only if you step down.  And I urge you to do so
for the sake of all these people.'  I gestured towards the soldiers and 
townspeople who stood below us in the courtyard, every pair of eyes 
straining to see, and ears straining to hear what was taking place. 

Manados was clearly torn between avoiding the fight and giving up his
command, but common sense, or his sense of self-preservation, 
prevailed. 'You show true bravery, sir,' he said, as he unsheathed his 
sword and offered it to me.  'Please accept my sword, and the command 
of this castle.' 

'I accept command,' I replied.  'But please forgive me if I do not
accept your sword, for I have one of my own and will trust no other in 
combat.'  At that moment, Lieutenant  Aesteban returned carrying a flag 
pole hung with a small, but bright red, flag.  Lord Manados opened his 
mouth is if he was about to speak, but remembering that he was no 
longer in command, he remained silent. 

'You may give the reply, Lieutenant,' I said.  'But then please be kind
enough to allow my servant to bring me some food.  I cannot fight on an 
empty stomach.' 

*** 

Shortly after waving the red flag in reply to the challenge, Lieutenant
Aesteban had ridden out to meet one of King Ungstred's aids who had 
come forward to agree the time of the engagement.  Seeing no reason to 
hurry, I had ordered Aesteban to delay until after dawn the next day.  
This would give me time to eat, and to gather as much information as I 
could about my adversary.  Apparently King Ungstred of Grustan had a 
fearsome reputation, both as a warrior and as a king, as he treated his 
own people almost as severely as he treated his enemies.  He was a 
tall, well built man, as I had seen for myself, and in the most recent 
battle, in northern  Litanlia, he had, according to one of the 
survivors, taken on both King Rubris and his bodyguard, killing them 
both with two-handed swings of the great sword he carried, while 
remaining astride a great warhorse and trampling their bodies 
underfoot. 

'You will need a good horse,' said Kello as he sat and watched Layana
bathe me.  Luke warm water in an old iron bath in the officers' 
quarters was a poor substitute for Curab's hot springs, but I was 
feeling much refreshed. 

'And one for Miglio,' I said.  It was customary for two aides to
accompany each of the duelling commanders.  Lieutenant Aesteban had 
offered to be one of them and I had asked Miglio to be the other. 

'Any horse will do for the boy,' Kello answered.  'But you need a strong
fighting horse.' 

'Do you have one in mind?' 

'Aye.  While you were sleeping, and before this place filled up with
retreating soldiers and people from the town, three riderless horses 
returned, and one of them was King Rubris's stallion, Bloodraven  He 
had a couple of nasty cuts on his neck and shoulder, but I've treated 
his wounds and fed him well, so he'll be fine.  Do you want to see 
him?' 

'Later,' I said.  'But for now, perhaps you would excuse us?  Though you
may as well acquaint Miglio with his horse.'  As Kello left the room, 
grinning, I seized Layana by the waist and pulled her, screaming, into 
the scummy water.  After all, there was an outside chance that I would 
be killed the next day, so I wanted to make the most of our time 
together. 

15 – The Meadow 

Soldiers lined the battlements, and more soldiers and a crowd of
townspeople jostled noisily in the courtyard as I prepared to ride King 
Rubris's black stallion, Bloodraven, through the main gates, 
accompanied by Lieutenant Aesteban and Miglio, both mounted on grey 
mares.  Perhaps wisely, Lord Manados had remained in his quarters, but 
he had loaned me his spare coat of mail, breastplate and helmet - not 
wishing to risk damage to his best ones, I noticed – and also a fine, 
emerald-green cloak which, according to Layana, gave me a princely 
look.  'Take care, my lord!' she shouted over the cheers of the 
assembled townsfolk and soldiers.  'And you too, Miglio!'  She was 
smiling but there was a glint of a tear in her eye, though whether 
through pride or fear for our lives, I was not sure.  But soon she was 
out of sight, lost in the throng of waving and cheering people, as we 
rode through the gateway. 

We rode single file down the track towards the town, soon veering off to
the west towards a meadow that lay between the castle and the enemy 
encampment.  As we entered the meadow, to more shouts and cheers from 
the castle battlements, I halted Bloodraven to allow Miglio and 
Aesteban to come up beside me.  Miglio carried a newly made red banner 
of acceptance, and Aesteban a Litanlian banner depicting a silver 
horseman on a green background while I, of course, carried my sheathed 
sword and a circular shield, given to me by Kello.  At the other side 
of the meadow, flanked by his two aides, was King Ungstred, his 
breastplate shining brightly as it had the day before; though he sat 
astride a different horse, a large chestnut stallion that pawed at the 
dew-laden grass as though impatient to begin while, behind the three 
horsemen was the Grustan army, shouting and cheering as vigorously as 
our troops. 

A warm south-easterly gust of wind washed over us, lifting our two
banners and flapping them vigorously, before it moved on to do the same 
to King Ungstred's and, as if that was a signal to do so, both parties 
rode on towards the centre of the meadow until we stopped, fifty or so 
paces short of each other. 

Close to, I could see that my opponent was indeed a big man, and that he
was studying me just as closely as I was studying him.  But he must 
have been every bit as keen as his stallion to begin as, with a wave of 
his hand, his two aides were dismissed and they turned their mounts 
away and rode back to the edge of the meadow where the Grustan troops 
crowded and jostled for a better view of the fight. 

For my part, I saw no reason for haste, as having lived as a mortal for
over a thousand years, and fought in countless battles, I was in no 
hurry to take another life; which may sound like bravado, but I knew 
that the gods would decide my fate and I doubted that today was the day 
that they would have me die at the hands of another.  I smiled at the 
king and wished him good morning in what I thought was faultless 
Grustanian, but he chose not to reply.  His mount began to nod and 
shake his head impatiently, and I noticed then that the stallion's head 
and flanks were battle scarred, and that his eyes had a wild, untamed 
look. 

Beside me, Aesteban and Miglio's mounts had become restless.  'The
king's horse looks mad, master,' Miglio whispered. 

'Bread for fighting,' I replied, while unfastening my cloak and handing
it to him.  I sensed that King Ungstred was growing impatient, so I 
decided to delay no more. 

'Thank you,' I said to my aids, and they too turned their horses and
rode away.  King Ungstred's right hand went to the hilt of his sword, 
so I drew mine and, standing up into my stirrups, kissed the blade.  
This seemed to amuse the Grustan king and he drew his own sword without 
doing the same; not because he was not subject to the same 
superstitions as all fighting men, I thought, but because he wanted to 
show me his contempt; that he could beat me easily, with or without the 
help of the sword gods. 

The shouts and cheers from both armies had tapered away, and we faced
each other in silence, with not even the sound of birds, or insects, or 
of the wind in the grass, just the soft breath of our horses.  Then, 
with sword held high, King Ungstred charged. What signal he had given 
to his mount, I could not say, for the two seemed to move as though man 
and beast were one.  I had not sat astride a horse for a number of 
years but I reacted instinctively, digging my heels into Bloodraven's 
flanks, and he responded beautifully, almost instantly matching King 
Ungstred's charge and, within a few heartbeats, we clashed: sword 
against sword and man against man.  The king's tactics were clear: he 
had aimed a weak and easily parried blow at my head, and then smashed 
his mailed elbow in under my raised right arm, trying to unhorse me. 

Thankfully I remained in the saddle and rode on, turning Bloodraven
around for a second charge.  This time King Ungstred came at me with 
his sword arm outstretched and, as I prepared to parry once more, I was 
surprised when his mount veered straight into Bloodraven's path, with 
eyes wilder than ever and jaws agape.  With little help from me, 
Bloodraven swung away, avoiding the head on collision that might have 
resulted, and though both the king and myself lashed out with our 
swords, our blades did not even meet.  I turned Bloodraven again, 
thinking that if we continued to fight this way, the contest might last 
all day, and I now found myself becoming impatient. 

Meanwhile King Ungstred seemed to be having difficulty controlling his
stallion and was probably regretting his choice of mount, for as he 
charged again it was with less speed and uncertain direction.  Deciding 
that now would be a good time to take the lead, I leaned forward and 
whispered the Litanlian word for 'faster' into Bloodraven's ear, and he 
sped forward with such speed that I was thrown back into the saddle.  
As we bore down on the king, his stallion seemed to recognise the 
threat, and he leapt forward matching Bloodraven's rapidity; but again 
veered straight into Bloodraven's path leaving him nowhere to go.  As 
the two horses collided, I saw that King Ungstred was as taken by 
surprise as I was, and we were both thrown forward with such force that 
our heads clashed with a skull-jarring impact that sent our helmets 
flying, before we both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs, 
swords and horses' hooves. 

King Ungstred was on top of me, but he must have been more dazed than I,
because I was the first to recover my wits.  I shoved him away and 
started to get to my feet, but it was then that my head was stuck by a 
shod hoof and I was knocked to the ground again with disastrous 
consequences. 

I tried to stand, but I could only manage to crawl on hands and knees,
and my vision was blurred and my head spinning or - at least everything 
around me was spinning - but worse than that: I no longer knew who, or 
where, I was. 

A horse whinnied loudly before cantering past, and then I heard someone
behind me groaning and what sounded like cursing, but in a language I 
did not understand.  I kept on crawling.  I needed time to think.  Who 
was I?  Then the realisation struck me:  I knew who I was.  I was 
Michael Collington! 

16 - The Sword 

I could hear more horses now and they seemed to be galloping towards me,
so I forced myself to stand, as I feared that I would be trampled.  My 
vision was still blurred but slowly becoming clearer, and I saw that 
the horses were not riderless.  One of them stopped just a few feet 
away and its rider leaped from the saddle and came to my aid. 

'Master!  Are you alright, master?' 

I knew that voice, and understood the word master.  It was the young
servant, Miglio, but I was not his master.  There were unintelligible 
shouts coming from across the field, and nearby there were more voices 
in heated argument. 

At last my vision cleared and I saw the young officer, Aesteban, stoop
to pick up a sword and shield that lay in the grass, and then come 
striding towards me. 

'It is agreed,' he said.  'There is no winner, so the fight will
continue on foot.  Are you ready, Lord Astavar?' 

He stared at me while I stared back, for I had understood only the word
Astavar. 

'You must fight, my lord, or you will lose by default and be put to
death.'  He held out the sword and shield as if he expected me to take 
them.  But I could not comprehend what was happening.  Why was I here?  
I was wearing a breastplate and chain mail, but I was Michael 
Collington from England, not a fighting man.  What had happened to the 
part of me that was Lord Astavar?  I looked over towards the other men. 
 One of them, a big burly man, was staring malevolently at me, and he 
had a huge sword in his right hand and a shield on his left arm.  Of 
course!  He was the enemy king that Lord Astavar was to fight, but... 

'Something's gone wrong,' I said to Miglio and Aesteban.  'I'm not who
you think I am.'  But they both stared at me as though I was speaking a 
foreign language which, of course, I was because I was speaking 
English, a language from another world.  I didn't know what to do.  I 
was no warrior.  My grandfather's letter had said nothing about me 
being put in danger.  This couldn't be happening. 

I took a step backwards, almost shaking with fear. 

'Take your sword, master.' 

Miglio had spoken again, and now he had taken the sword from Aesteban
and was offering it to me. 

Of course!  The sword! Everything that had happened to me revolved
around the sword.  I took it from Miglio, raised to my lips and kissed 
the blade.  Nothing happened; at least, not at first, but gradually I 
began to feel more confidant, and the weight of the sword in my hand 
felt right.  I was still Michael Collington but I was no longer afraid. 
Aesteban offered me the shield, and I took it from him. 

'Thank you,' I said, surprised to find myself speaking Litanlian.  'You
can both leave now.'  King Ungstred's aids were already riding back 
towards the Grustan army and, with obvious relief on their faces, 
Miglio and Aesteban mounted their horses and rode away. 

I cannot easily explain the way I felt.  I was still Michael Collington
and yet, with one kiss of the sword, I was fearless, a warrior, and 
before me was an enemy, a man intent on killing me.  As he strode 
towards me he discarded his shield and, taking his sword in two hands, 
he ran at me, swinging his sword like an axe. 

Some instinct made me drop my own shield and block the blow with a
two-handed swing of my own, and our swords came together with a mighty 
clash that should have loosened my grip, but didn't.  Marvelling at my 
own strength, I knocked the king's sword aside and then swung my blade 
diagonally upwards forcing him to take a step backwards and swing his 
sword in an arc to parry the blow.  I fought on, feeling that now I 
might have the initiative because, though the king was matching my 
every stroke, he was slowly giving ground.  All around us was the sound 
of the two opposing armies, shouting encouragement like fans at a 
football match.  From the castle I could clearly here the name Astavar 
being chanted. 

King Ungstred changed his tactics, stepping closer as he parried one of
my sword strokes and barrelling into me. I stumbled, loosing ground, 
but then redoubled my efforts, and when he came close again, without 
thinking, I smashed my elbow into his jaw, forcing him to lurch 
backwards.  I couldn't believe my own skill and strength, it was as 
though every time our swords clashed, an electrical charge passed 
through me, giving me even more strength.  Then suddenly it was all but 
over: King Ungstred failed to effectively block a vicious blow that I 
aimed at his left shoulder, taking the worst of it on his left arm, and 
I clearly heard a bone in his forearm break.  To his credit, he did not 
cry out, but tried to fight on with his one good arm until, with all 
the strength I could muster, I weekend his grip and sent his sword 
flying, before putting the tip of my blade to his throat. 

Still, I could not believe what was happening.  I was Michael
Collington, office worker turned warrior.  A warrior with a true 
affinity for his sword.  And there before me was a beaten enemy, 
waiting for the one last sword thrust that would take his life. 

Epilogue 

Two thirds of the twenty-first century has passed, and I am an old man
now, father of three and grandfather of seven, and when I tell my 
grandchildren the stories of how I was a great warrior in a land beyond 
our universe, they believe that is all that they are: just stories. 

Except for David, my youngest grandchild.  'Why didn't you kill King
Ungstred?' he asked. 

'Because I agreed to spare his life in exchange for him leading his army
back out of  Litanlia,' I replied. 

He though for a moment.  'But how did you become you again?  I mean when
you were you instead of Lord Astavar.' 

David, still only seven years old, had an eye for detail and a way of
seeking out any flaw in a story, and I had to think carefully before 
replying, as my memories of that time had faded.  'There was a huge 
celebration in the days that followed my victory over the Grustan 
king,' I said, ‘and a lot of wine was drunk.' 

'I bet you got drunk, didn't you, Granddad?' said David with a grin. 

'I did,' I replied, 'and I fell asleep and awoke as Lord Astavar again. 
But before long, I was back here in this old house.' 

'You were Lord Astavar, here in your house?' 

'No, I was Michael Collington again.' 

'But you did go back, didn't you, Granddad, to fight more battles?' 

'Oh, yes,' I said.  ‘Many times.' 

THE END(?) 


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