A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One

by D. N. Woodward

  Leon sputtered. He couldn't believe she was taking Ben’s side! He pushed his hat up higher on his forehead. "Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, I do know he's been throwing his weight around for no good reason since the very start. The man thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. Ferschall's the one really running the show if you ask me."

  "Well, good thing no one's asking you, right?" her voice was huffy as she flicked her hair and signaled for Cooper to join them. Then she turned back and gave him her signature tell for a subtle dig—sleepy eyes with a slight dimple. How many guys had he seen her melt with that look? He tried not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him react to it like every other guy she ever used it on, but his own face betrayed him, and he grinned back like a cur dog begging for a bone before she turned to Cooper.

  Way to go and give her another reason to think you're a dope, dope!

  When it was all said and done, Ben gave them all a few hours to rest and relax. For the first time in over a week Leon, Shana, and Reed weren’t being forced to do something for someone else.

  Though the temptation to lounge around and pepper the others with questions while Merle sniffed and sprayed every bush was a truly inspiring proposition, Leon forced himself to consider the big picture. Thinking back to his last moments with Gus, he remembered his primary goal for the unforeseeable future. He had been tasked with protecting Shana and making it back home with her in one piece. His constantly expanding litany of questions concerning where they really were and why they were really there, would have to continue to remain bottled up for a later time.

  For the time being, the most sensible thing to do would be to begin learning to better protect himself in his new reality. And there was one person who had promised to teach him. Leon stood and turned to Reed. “How about you start those lessons you promised?”

  Reed, engrossed in whittling on some walking stick he had picked up that morning, paused mid-cut to answer without looking up, “You mean the Blade training? The first free day we’ve had in over a week and you want to begin Blade training?” He cut another long smooth strip of soft bark and glanced up in Shana’s direction. “You too?”

  Something in the way in which he pounced on the question instead of attempting to fend off further conversation with his normally antagonistic disposition made Leon leery.

  But before he could renege on the request Shana answered enthusiastically for them both. Her hair bounced as she nodded with naïve vigor.

  Reed’s expression morphed into a suspiciously nefarious smile. “Fine, but don’t complain if it isn’t as exciting as you might be expecting. I don't train quitters." He looked them both in the eye, deadpan serious. "The first thing you need to learn is how not to be so weak and ill-equipped for fighting.”

  Leon wasn’t buying the put-down, “Just how do you propose we learn not to be weak? We’ve been doing nothing but hard physical exercise for days on end. Apart from the fact that we’re a little short on free weights out here, I’m in the best shape of my life.”

  Yet another larger smile spread across Reed’s face, “Glad you brought that up! We won’t be hiking or lifting weights…” He reached over to one of the nearby packs and handed them each a metal spear before digging through a separate bag and fishing out a sturdy rope. “You guys will start with some core work while I devise some other fun activities to strengthen those arm and wrist muscles. Think of this as your first steps in a daily routine. Now, have either of you ever heard of flutter kicks or burpees?” Shana shook her smiling face no, still excited to begin, while Leon simultaneously groaned.

  Me and my big mouth!

  Flashbacks of high school coaches yelling at him during mat drill exercises in the off-season fluttered through his mind. Reed cracked his knuckles, “Excellent, now go change into those workout clothes you were wearing when we first got here, and Leon, when you get done why don’t you demonstrate a dozen burpees for Shana before you both get started building up those doughy little belly muscles? Now move!”

  They both quickly fished their workout clothes from their heavy pottery packs and trotted off in opposite directions to change. A few moments later, Reed’s voice carried through the bushes, “And Leon, I want to see full-grown man push-ups and air under those feet when they leave the ground, or you’ll have to show her again!”

  Leon groaned once more under his breath as he wrapped his Medallion up in his travel clothes and ordered Merle to guard the pile.

  This is going to be a real peach of an afternoon.

  # # #

  What Leon soon discovered was it didn’t matter how in shape he believed himself to be, Reed’s version of being in shape was miles beyond his own. Both he and Shana were made to hold metal spears throughout the duration of a killer conditioning workout before Reed tied a loop in a rope attached to a pair of homemade pulley systems on a nearby tree with a pottery pack lashed to the other end. Hoisting those packs with that rope forced them both to use arm, back, and shoulder muscles Leon didn’t even realize were there.

  To top it off, burpees continued to be a persistent theme throughout the remainder of the workout. These were done on bare knuckles so he and Shana wouldn’t drop their stinking spears. Leon could only cringe at the transition from milk toast mellow Reed into some stranger with the persona of a deranged army drill sergeant.

  The one saving grace to all the pain they allowed Reed to dish out came just after Ben’s men returned with Ferschall. By that time Reed had nearly broken them. He was goading them to finish a torturous wrist exercise, screaming out something about how it was his pleasure in life to turn their rat claws into meat hooks.

  Obviously, the initial reaction from the other men was pure hysteria. Gunther actually fell to his knees he laughed so hard. Even Cooper cracked a smile. But the laughter ended when Ben strolled down from a nearby hill, where he had been on lookout, and suggested that the challenges of Fayden might be better met if a certain group of soldiers did their part to maintain company conditioning standards.

  Soon thereafter, it was agreed that the team would make camp along the side of the river and, to Leon’s amazement, Ben put his three remaining men through a much more advanced sparing session, complete with their own much more rigorous military core workout.

  Leon and Shana retreated to sit in the shade of a nearby tree, which smelled like peaches but sported wicked-looking three-inch spines up and down its trunk. Reed stalked up the hill and took Ben’s place, keeping watch.

  Ferschall claimed a place beside them before long. Leon didn't hear him come, just looked over, and there he was. Ferschall was like that, though.

  As they watched the antics playing out before them, Ferschall chuckled softly at Ben’s blunt and colorful approach to the art of motivation, but he didn't seem overly impressed at the level of activity that ensued.

  What would Ferschall consider strenuous exercise?

  If Reed’s definition of physical conditioning was miles beyond his, Ferschall’s had to be a whole ‘nother order of magnitude beyond Reed’s.

  Eventually, Ferschall’s chuckles wore thin. He turned to Leon and spoke softly. “How come you two were allowing Reed to guide you in those arm exercises?”

  Leon was still amused at the antics before him and answered without taking the weight of the question into account, “So, we'll be ready to take up the Blade someday. Reed says we are way behind in our training. We still have a few years of work to do before we are ready to use one.”

  When Ferschall didn’t respond Leon pulled his eyes away from the action. Ferschall sat frozen beside him, staring at him, slack-jawed.

  “What? I don’t want to turn into some monster if I can help it. What’s the matter now?”

  “Leon, I thought you've been ignoring my invitations because you despised the whole idea of taking up the Blade, yes? Why in Fayden would Reed think such a thing? What exactly does he feel he needs to do to prepare you two to take up Blades of your own?” Ferschall’s voice had gone from s
oft bewilderment to raspy concern in no time flat.

  “Hey hoss, don’t shoot the messenger. Two weeks ago, I was living on a whole different reality, oblivious to all of this Blade talk. Besides, there aren’t any Blades available for us…unless you want to give me yours?”

  Leon meant it as a joke, but the anger in Ferschall’s voice melted into a wispy note of sadness. He spoke with the reverence of someone granted a great honor, “Leon, of course, I would be willing to give you my Blade. There’s obviously a lot you two haven’t been told, yes? I don’t know what strange customs the remnant in the lands of Sanctuary have developed, but I can tell you there is no reason to wait for years if you are willing to take up the Blade now.”

  At some point, Shana had tuned in on their conversation. When Leon brought her up to speed, she responded, “Do it, Leon. I want to watch and see what all the big hoopla is about."

  Ferschall’s eyes shifted back to Leon and it was all he could do to simply nod his agreement.

  “Wonderful, follow me up the hill. Though Reed has an odd notion as to how these things work, there is no denying he carries a Blade as well, yes? I want him to be there for this too.”

  Ferschall stood and, without another word, made his way up the hill. Leon gave Shana a questioning look. She shrugged and took off after him. It took Leon another few seconds to consider everything before he did the same.

  As Leon rushed up over the crest of the hill to catch up with his two companions, he collided into Shana's back, and they barely missed bulling over Ferschall. They both laughed as they steadied themselves.

  Yet Ferschall and Reed stood stark still, ignoring them. They were frozen in place, staring downriver, far to the southeast. Following their collective gaze toward where the river grew flat and wide, Leon observed a densely crowded, slow-moving mass of creatures, still a mile or two away, gradually inching their direction.

  Ferschall was the first to break the silence, “Well, Leon, unfortunately, this conversation will just have to wait a few short hours. Tell your friends that if we don’t cross now, those water pigs could hold us up another day or two, maybe longer.”

  Reed asked what was on everyone else’s mind, “Are they dangerous?”

  “Most definitely. But that’s not our concern today.” Ferschall’s response drifted off with him as he raced back down the hill. Reed was right on his heels.

  Shana looked at Leon with obvious exasperation, “Is it just me or does everyone and everything around us have bad timing?” She sported a coy expression, looking over at him with those unreadable eyes of hers.

  The wind blew a tuft of loose hair across her cheek. Leon so wanted to reach up and tuck that stray strand gently behind her ear, to wrap his arms around her and draw her close but, for some reason, the gesture wouldn’t come. It just didn't feel right.

  “Couldn’t say, timing’s never been my thing.”

  Chapter 12

  Ferschall wanted to press forward ahead of the mob that approached. Ben refused once Ferschall confessed that the horde wouldn't likely be dangerous. He wanted to at least make contact before heading up the trail.

  Leon and his companions were still drying off on the far side of the river when the first of the horde lumbered up along the river’s shoreline. A thin-framed, short-statured, heavily bearded man casually rode Indian-style atop a colorfully designed barge platform mounted securely to a harness behind an immense creature, mostly submerged beneath the water. The back third of the barge was stacked high with boxes and crates of varying sizes lashed securely together. As the water grew shallow near their bank, any expectations regarding the “water pigs” Ferschall previously described quickly dissolved at the realization that the submerged beast was actually some sort of giant hippopotamus.

  The bearded little man spotted them shortly after they saw him. He was dressed in loose pants made of faded purple fabric but wore a plain tan and yellow leather vest over a hairy little chest. Several layers of multicolored seashell chains hung ‘round his neck in loose hoops while still others hung from braided loops in his hair and beard.

  Once it was clear their paths would intersect, he proceeded to pull a large spindly white seashell to his lips, then blasted out a long note to the horde following in his wake, back down the river. Similar notes echoed back upstream from the ranks behind.

  Leon and the others remained perfectly still while the nervous little guy sprang to his feet. Reaching back into a boxed compartment behind him, he produced a long three-pronged spear and a thick hide-covered shield. By simultaneously tapping his bare feet in an odd rhythm on the platform below, he somehow managed to draw his mount up from out of its slow, plodding gait. His quick, agile stomping sounded much like the pitter-patter of a snare drum.

  Leon couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at how the little man resembled a tiny, angry, river-dancer. However, his mirth was short-lived once the Hippo below began responding to the foot drum.

  The enormous creature rose from the water until its nose was a few feet from the shoreline. Then, what appeared to begin as a yawn grew until a menacing mouth full of gnarled tusks were fully exposed. Each ivory canine measuring well over two feet in length.

  Leon marveled. The creature was practically the size of a small elephant, or a tank, back home. Its enormous girth expanded as it heaved in a deep breath and groaned out in a low bass octave, which steadily built until its rumbling became an infernally aggressive roar. Even standing a few dozen feet away, Leon could feel those basso vibrations making his nose itch until his eyes watered. All the while, the little man continued to stomp about in growing intensity. Strangely, the rhythm sounded more like a war drum in the presence of such an intimidating backdrop.

  In that harrowing moment, all eyes went to Ferschall. Ferschall had explicitly warned them prior to and during their hasty river crossing that first meetings with the approaching hoard could be tricky. Of course, he also managed to take full opportunity to remind Ben what happened the first night they met, back when his advice wasn’t so well-heeded.

  He immediately stepped forward, lifting empty hands, and casually sauntering out toward the water’s edge. His head was bent toward the ground, but the gesture was so carefree and welcoming it was almost like he intended to invite an old friend over for dinner. Then when he looked up to address the snarling little man, he stopped short and broke into uproarious laughter.

  “Ferschall…Ferschall Grimm? That you?!” The little man sitting up on his perch still floating behind the hippo squinted down inspecting the man belly laughing before him before breaking out into a fit of laughter all his own. He laughed so hard he dropped both his spear and shield. Then, in a completely unexpected move, he took a few steps back, made a running leap, sprung off the hippo’s back, vaulted off its still upturned nose, somersaulted through the air, and landed upon the riverbank in an all-out sprint, only to stop once caught in the outstretched arms of Ferschall. Though the little man appeared normally proportioned, he hovered just over five feet tall on tippy-toes, and when Ferschall scooped him up in a massive bear hug, he all but disappeared from view.

  “Ferschall! Where you been, you big oaf? Never mind! I’ll call off the guard. Hold on.” He pulled up his horn once more and gave three short toots and one long bellow. “Don’t you worry, nobody has forgotten you, you old tramp. We are going to have a big party, yes?”

  From that moment on, the afternoon slid by without much in the way of explanation from Ferschall or his new friend. He did manage to convey that the current horde of individuals gradually arriving in greater and greater numbers were somehow distantly related to him. It was later learned that when he mentioned he was related to the horde, it might actually have meant everyone in the horde! And it seemed each of those distant cousins were just as happy to see Ferschall as the first had been. His temporarily forgotten companions were thus forced to wait patiently as a long string of over-enthused reunions played out before them. Every new rider to wobble up elicited all manner o
f renewed exuberance, though the conversation remained consistently humorous.

  It generally started with, “Ferschall, son of Grimm? That you?”

  “Ah, my favorite cousin thrice removed, yes?! How is your dear mother?”

  As soon as the yelling, jostling, and back pounding ended another would show up to take it up again, and on it went.

  Shana was the only one who found it cute when Leon explained that they were surrounded by a hundred little mini-Ferschall’s with the same annoying speech proclivities as their older, larger, cousin. If there was any question where that linguistic tick stemmed from, it was quickly put to rest after the first dozen reunions.

  Leon could only feel grateful when the group’s initial gathering point moved further upriver from the shoreline. Apparently, even their overzealous little visitors noticed that their original greeting point had become more of a mud wallow than a riverbank.

  Soon, the sloping shoreline was filled to the brim with dozens of oversized draft hippos, which mulled about under the direction of the pitter-patter foot stomping from obnoxiously loud little men who all seemed to scream orders at one another simultaneously. It was synchronized chaos.

  The platforms turned out to be amphibious wagons with wheels. They could be pulled behind the hippos once out of the water. Each wagon had been loaded down with all manner of bundled goods, but especially interesting to Leon were the small holes punched in several of the larger boxes stacked within the piles. Many of those boxes appeared to be reinforced with steel framing.

  By late afternoon, a couple hundred of what Leon initially guessed were giant guinea pig-looking critters made their grand entrance. These creatures turned out to actually be the much-anticipated water pigs. Though each water pig measured half a ton in size, and they looked nothing like pigs, they did manage to squeal and grunt as they climbed up out of the water.