Ronosae’s War

By littleDemonwind

Chapter One

"According as circumstances are favourable, one should modify one's plans." -- Sun Tzu.

Four years later

Eighteen years-old Phonos stayed within the shadows of the Lord General Whitewoods’ training hall. Her flowing black hair blended with the dark wood of the back wall of the hall. Black tunic and trousers equally helped her remain unnoticed.

For four years she held the title The Sword; and for four years she dealt with the loneliness. Many were uneasy around Phonos. They did not understand how a blind girl could fight on par of a master. If it wasn’t for the testimony of a renowned impartial soothsayer she would had been accused and executed for illegal use of magic to win the competition. Her only consolation was that she and her younger brother, Ori, no longer live on the streets barely able to subsist on beggars’ fare. Ori at least had friends at the School of Bardic Arts where he was learning the skills needed for his chosen profession.

Her thoughts wandered back to the day when she stood in tattered clothes of a street urchin before King Sorin after winning the last battle of the first time she entered the Tournament of the Sword. King Sorin happily gave the time honored words to gift her anything within his power to give. The young Phonos had only asked for him to pay for Ori’s schooling at the School of Bardic Arts. After delivering her excited brother into the school she had thought to disappear in Rone’s poorest section. It wasn’t long after that the Lord General tracked her down and brought her into his home away from a harsh, short life on the streets.

She wasn’t unappreciative of the chance she was given to lead a better life, but Phonos was discontented. It wasn’t unheard of for females to pursue a career in arms, there wasn’t a military in the world that would take a blind woman for a solider or officer. A position as a guard or men-at-arms might be found, but where could she find a noble or merchant that wouldn’t look down at her for her gender or blindness? Even Lady Corynn, the Lord General’s wife, disliked Phonos’ interest and aptitude for the martial arts. The Lady of Whitewoods would fancy nothing more than for Phonos to find a quite and proper profession like priesthood for a gentle goddess, a shop keeper, or a lady’s maid.

Letting out a silent sigh, Phonos ‘watched’ the young noblemen learned the ways of dueling with a long sword. She listened to the sounds of shuffling feet, the wood-on-wood thwack of practice swords, and the rhythmic breathing of the young men. Through her bare feet, she felt their movements vibrating against to smooth wooden floor. But through her blind eyes she saw what others were blind to: the essences of the students and the wooden swords they held.

***

Raul of Wolfhallow left the headmaster’s office in Duanem, one of the five schools of mage craft. Going to the balcony across from the office, he looked across the courtyards and building at one of the five towers encircling the school. A statue of the androgynous Amets Dream-Giver with raised hands was placed on top of the northeastern tower dedicated to the study of dreams and visions. In the crepuscular light he saw students leave the tower and surrounding buildings for the evening meal, their white-edged gray robes fluttering in the strong north winds.

“Looks like Soyala and Dusol are reminding us poor mortals of winter wrath.”

Raul turned to look at his friend and fellow troublemaker, Ivan. “So, how did it go? Did he figure out we were the ones who hung the three witches’ underwear from atop the central tower?” The three witches were three obnoxious sisters from a prominent noble family who were studying general mage craft at Duanem.

Snorting, Raul shook his head, “Yeah, he figured it out, but mostly the headmaster was talking about sending me to Rone for the Tournament of the Mage. I think he was laughing about the prank after he dismissed me, though I’m not sure. You know how thick his door is.”

“Tournament of the Mage! Star-Watcher and Dream-Giver! You got to be kidding me. Do you know how much honor it is to participate in the Tournament with the backing of one of the five schools? Did you know Fyrem is sending Ethan Fyresword as their choice? I heard Wynnem is still debating on whom to send, the airheads.” Ivan gabbed. Being a tradesman’s son Ivan always got the best gossips from outside the school.

Their steps echoed along the stairwell as they walked down the seven flights of stairs that reached from the top of the central tower to the lobby.

Interrupting Ivan, Raul said, “This is all very interesting, but if we don’t hurry we’ll be late for dinner. And aren’t we supposed to go to Duan to watch the new play The Fiddler’s Haven putting on tonight?”

“Ack! I’ve forgotten.” Ivan pulled at his dusty and stained green-edged gray robes. “Those healers have gotten us herb witches working ‘till we drop. I swear, if they don’t have their shelves fully stock they’re thinking Malady going to pay us a personal visit; as if the gods don’t have anything better to do but muck with our lives.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the healers here once we graduate this coming Autumnal Equinox.”

“And come Winter Solstice you, my friends, will be competing for the title of The Mage.”

***

“Iraja’s wrath! Where did that idiot go?” Thick shadows covered the alley, causing Raul to squint while making his way on his search for his errant friend. Ivan and Raul arrived in Rone in time for the first day of the five-day long celebration of midwinter. They had only been in the capital city less than half a day, and already Ivan was larking about.

A large bundle in his path caused Raul to stumble. Bending down he caught a whiff of something foul. On closer inspection he realized it was a drunken beggar taking an inopportune nap. The strong stench of alcohol and unwashed body made him glad it was winter instead of summer, when the smell would have been overpowering.

“Well, will ye look at tha’? What ‘cha thinkin’ th’ pretty snob got worth snitchin’?”

“No’ much, considerin’ he’s no’ packin’ a pouch. But th’ loony got a nice set of boots on ‘em paws. We could get a silver coin or two fer ‘em.”

Two gang boys with daggers drawn stood at the end of the alley.

The newly graduated mage was conflicted about using his magic to defend himself against two street boys after a few coins.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

Had more boys arrive from these two’s gang? Raul thought.

The boys took a step back once they gotten a good look at the newcomer.

“Tha’ ‘nough from ye o’ Avaice’s get. Go hunt elsewhere. There’s naught ‘ere fer ye to go and fence. Else, ye’ll be shown the kindness o’ milord’s prison house.”

A young, black haired woman walked out from behind Raul to stare at the two boys. The boys tripped over themselves in an effort to quickly leave.

Raul inspected his defender. Black leather armor of the city’s peacekeepers fitted her tall slim figure. At her side was a black and silver hilted long sword instead of the lead cored baton peacekeepers carried. It was difficult to see her face in the poor lighting emanating from the torches placed at the entrance of the alley.

“You really shouldn’t wonder in this section of Rone, wolf cub.” Gone was accent spoken by uneducated common folk. Replacing it was a lilting speech found widespread among entertainers.

“Wolf cub?” He felt himself breakout in a sweat, though snow was thick on the ground.

“Do you need a guide to one of the major thoroughfares?”

“I was looking for my friend, Ivan. We got separated a few blocks from here.”

“Your friend? This is not the place to be losing your friend. Times are dangerous and the peacekeepers can’t be everywhere.” The young woman looked uneasy. “Follow me; I’ll help you look for him. If you lost him only a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be far from here.” She turned and walked quickly down the alley. Raul hurried to catch up with her long-legged stride.

“What about that beggar?”

“I’ll inform the local temple of the Lady of Death about the cadaver.”

“Cadaver? That person is dead?”

“Are you really that naïve?”

“Sorry.” Uncomfortable silence stretched between the two. “Umm, thank you. I mean, thank you for helping me back there and for assisting my search for my friend. My name is Raul of Wolfhallow.”

“Name’s Phonos.” Together they walked down several alleys, some of them invisible behind shadows.

Phonos halted. In the profuse gloom Raul could make out Ivan’s straw yellow hair. His friend was embraced with an unearthly beautiful woman.

“Of all things―” Raul began.

“Tell your friend to get away from it.” Phonos drew her sword.

“It?”

“Now!”

The tone in her voice made him jump. “Ivan, that’s enough. We got to go.” He went to grab his friend to pull him away.

“Lyall’s Sword! Don’t let it touch you!”

The woman let Ivan go and latched a clawed hand onto Raul. Lustful heat filled his body as he let the woman pulled him closer. Dully, he heard a piercing whistle sounded, and then a hideous shriek filled the air. The heat and cotton feeling in his head suddenly left him to be exchanged with utter exhaustion. He had time to see Phonos enter a mêlée against a creature with horns and sable leathery wings before he fainted.

***

Phonos barely had time to blow the iron whistle she had in her pocket before she attacked the succubus that had been preying on the men of Rone since the Autumnal Equinox. Black ichorous blood flew when her sword, Silent Roar, scored the creature’s hide. The monstrous shriek pained her hearing.

The crowed quarters of the alley hampered Phonos. The demon was hindered more so with her large bat-like wings. Using the demon’s disadvantage against it, Phonos changed her style to accommodate the situation. She used moves she adopted from soldiers who fought with heavy overlapping shield. Short thrust and cuts predominated. Soon the demon was bleeding profusely from multiple wounds whereas Phonos lay unscathed.

Multiple sets of hobnailed boots pounded the cobblestones behind the swordswoman.

Looking passed her opponent, the succubus shriek and fled.

“Go after it!” Phonos dearly wished to give chase with the members of the Magnate Guards. But there were other matters that needed her attention rather than the euphoric feeling of a hunter.

She took hold of the waiting messenger assigned to the squad who answered her whistle. “I want the three sergeants currently on watch for this district to meet me at the Juggle Jug in half an hour. Also, contact Tackle’s squad and tell them to get here with two stretchers soonest.”

“Yes, mistress!” The messenger took off.