A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One

by D. N. Woodward

  Then she would seine out the pods, so that, when it cooled, she could scoop out the oil floating on the surface. She used some of the oil to fry meat. The rest she mixed with strong herbs and flowers. Her herbal concoction would dry into a thick sort of paste that she claimed was useful as a shampoo. She kept her florally scented paste stored in a leather pack.

  Perhaps most exciting of all in his new routines were the daily sparring lessons Kyra insisted upon. Leon knew the basics of how to hold a sword and move his body to block or defend himself from his work in the forest with Reed, but Kyra had a whole lifetime of lessons from a father who she described as a master with the Blade. She wasn’t quite as fast as Leon and, unless she focused on using her gift, he was the stronger of the two, but where he edged her in physical abilities, she dominated in using what she called modified technique.

  The odd thing about her father's fighting philosophy was that it wasn't some prescriptive formula he had to learn to learn to fight, it was more of a framework. It provided a solid base that freed him to use his creativity with the Blade as his weapon. At its core was the precept that proficiency only ever came through practice paired with an exploration of one's boundaries.

  Every afternoon he gained at least one new insight into how to use his Blade. Often those insights came at the price of a pound of pride and a nice welt but, nonetheless, he was thankful for every bruise he earned.

  "Leon, loosen up. Don't try so hard to guide the Blade, let the Blade guide you!"

  The comment was one she used often. It was also nearly the exact opposite of what Reed had attempted to hammer home during their sessions in the forest.

  "Come at me again, but this time try to surprise me."

  Leon wanted to laugh. Surprise her? Nothing surprised Kyra. He'd been trying to catch her napping for days and yet she somehow met and defended his every ploy.

  He backed off and did his best to study the surroundings immediately around her with his peripheral vision. It was that strange time of twilight where the sun sometimes sets and turns the air a rosy color. Kyra was bouncing on her toes, standing beneath a sturdy hardwood that had provided shade for their camp throughout the day. Just above her head, he saw the feathered form of Reed's little owlet watching them both. Working on a whim, he sent a pulse through his Blade.

  Leon stopped bouncing and pointed up, feigning a look of terror in his eyes. Just then the little owl let loose the most wicked sounding Hoot it had ever attempted.

  Kyra flinched so hard she nearly fell over. By the time she regained her balance, Leon was barreling down on her, preparing to execute the type of form tackle that would have made his high-school football coach wish he'd have taken the time to recruit him.

  Unfortunately for Leon, Kyra had grown up with three brothers who had attempted similar such distractions at least a hundred different ways while their father drilled them growing up. She didn't try to fight against the take-down, she went with it, and then used Leon's momentum against him.

  Before he knew what was happening, he was rolling down the riverbank, then sputtering to stand in knee-deep water. He didn't try to surprise her again that night.

  On evening's when they lingered within sheltered terrain that felt safe, with wind gusting in the right directions, they would wait until just before dark to light a small fire, usually somewhere down in a crevasse along the river bottom. There they would cook food and listen to the early evening sounds along the river's shoreline. Then, just in time for sunset, they would smoother the coals and take turns individually bathing downriver from camp, washing their clothes of the smoky scent of their fire before drying off, packing up, and continuing their nightly pursuit. Luckily, Leon’s salvage run in the Fae camp managed to provide him with more than one change of clothes, and Kyra’s packs contained multiple sets of clothes for her as well.

  Three weeks came and went in the blink of an eye for Leon before the caravan’s trail finally took a turn, leading them to cross a crumbling gray stone bridge, which sat straddling the Somber. There was an obvious trail leading up from the east, and the bridge looked to be used frequently enough that they decided to stop and make camp a ways up the river before crossing.

  The next evening, Leon left the remaining animals in their makeshift camp with strict orders to stay put. However, he did take Merle with them across the bridge to scout out the hills to the north.

  Leon had been working on using his Blade to strengthen his connection with all their animals, but the connection he shared with Merle was deeper than the others. The Blade sharpened Merle’s understanding of Leon’s directives, but a lifetime of trust and companionship buffeted their relationship to the point where a simple thought was all it took to convey a complex request. Merle led them to a distant hill and stopped.

  Peeking over the crest and down onto a small town centered on a rather steep pass between two larger hills, Leon could clearly see a line of caged wagons dotting the road, awaiting permission to enter through the exterior of a tall wooden gate which blocked entry into the pass. He studied things carefully for a few minutes then motioned Kyra. They crawled back down out of sight before either dared speak.

  “Did you see all those great roundhouses and that towering wall around them? You think that’s Hollinger?”

  Leon had traveled alone with Kyra for a long time, yet he sometimes forgot how sheltered her life had been prior to their meeting. Though he hadn’t seen what a big city looked like in Fayden, he was certain the small village below wasn’t where they were headed.

  “I don’t think we’re there yet, but I do think we are going to start seeing more and more cities like this. We might be able to dodge around this one, but we are going to need to figure out a way to intermingle with folks, eventually. Come on, we can’t go down there till the caravan leaves anyway so that gives us a day or two to figure things out.”

  Chapter 23

  When Leon made it back to camp, he rummaged through his pack until he dug up the last of the coffee. Somewhere along the way, in the endless forests, he had weaned himself off his favorite drink with the recognition he would eventually run out if he didn’t conserve. Not that the effort did him much good. He stared down into the near-empty pack containing the last remnants of his once plentiful bounty and took a heavy-hearted sniff of the pungent aroma that he would miss more than just about any other thing he’d left back at home. Presently, one of his greatest fears was about to become reality.

  “What is that?”

  “This? This is the stuff dreams are made of…black gold.” He opened the bag and Kyra scrambled over to peek inside as he inhaled deeply.

  “Those are beans, Leon.”

  “Way to steal my thunder!”

  “Thunder stealing? You make no sense sometimes.”

  “Look, we use these beans to make a delicious drink where I live. And though it pains me more than you can imagine, I’ve got an idea for how we can use the last of my beans to help us blend in more naturally.”

  “You want to use magic beans to get us into the city?” He could hear the skepticism in her voice. It would have been funny if the stakes weren't so high for both of them.

  “Help me find a couple of rocks. I need one that's flat and another that's heavy and round, we have some beans to grind! Then, I’m gonna show you a trick I heard about from a girl at school a few years ago. If it works, you can say you’re sorry for doubting me by letting me take you out to dinner when this is all over. Deal?” Leon tried to throw out the dinner invite casually, like it was no big deal but held his breath in anticipation as he continued to sort through the remaining contents of his pack.

  “Leon, you do realize we have dinner together every night? You are so odd sometimes…” Not even realizing the metaphorical puppy she kicked, Kyra stomped off in search of his rocks.

  Soon, though, Leon had an improvised pot of cowboy coffee boiling in Kyra’s large cookpot. After allowing the beans to boil for a few minutes, he pulled the pot off the small fire
and poured some cold water gently over the top to let the grinds settle. Next, he took a cup and scooped up some of the dark nectar for his selfish edification. Squinting through the heavenly steam that rose off the top of the cup, he took a small swig. It was as delicious as ever, but he exaggerated a bit more than necessary for Kyra's sake, making his eyes roll back in his head, and exhaling with as close to a sound of satisfied bliss as he could muster.

  She quickly took the cup when he handed it over. She tilted her head back and took a large sip, followed immediately by spewing the steaming brew out onto coals of the fire.

  “Ouch! Yuck! How can you drink that hot, bitter concoction? I think I just burned my tongue!”

  Leon pushed his hat back and scratched his head with a grin. “It grows on you.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the same thing you said about your baby griffin. He just seems to keep growing, but not on me.”

  Leon looked over at Ahab who was pruning himself, his beak edging suspiciously close to his hind end. There was no doubt he was growing and growing fast, but his hygiene fell far short of healthy decorum.

  “You know you love him.”

  Kyra didn’t respond as she brought over more water and doused the fire. He leaned back to savor one more cup, then scraped up another cup full off the bottom of the pot, grinds and all.

  “Come on down to the water and bring your berry concoction.”

  “It’s called Dimpleberry Paste, and I’ve noticed some missing every time I’ve left it out for you.” She gave him a satisfied smirk.

  “Fine, bring the Dimpleberry Paste. If this works, no one will likely mistake us for Bearskinners, for a while at least.”

  Taking their improvised coffee pot and mixing in a healthy dose of herb-infused Dimpleberry Paste, Leon then massaged the mixture into Kyra’s curly mop of hair. He worked it in slowly, careful to saturate every strand. He also used a cloth to help wash all of her clan paint. Even though she preferred to re-apply the war paint every evening, he explained how it wouldn't do either of them any good to have her looking like a crazy Amazon where they were headed. The metaphor was lost on her, but she got the general drift of what he meant.

  He couldn't deny that the clean, fresh scent of flowery herbs mixed well with the rich aromatic scent of the coffee. Kyra seemed to enjoy the sensation of having her scalp massaged as well. It took a lot of willpower for Leon to ignore the way the morning sun lit up the bare skin of her freshly washed face as she smiled up at him, with eyes closed. Despite the use of the war paint, her dark olive skin was flawless. Leon frowned when Grumpy moved in to take a sniff and remained close enough afterward to keep him focused on the task at hand.

  When he was done, they traded places, and he knelt while she did the same for him. He could feel a tingling sensation in his scalp as she worked.

  "Just so you know, I'm testing out my gift on your noggin. Hopefully, it works equally well on the rest of you."

  Leon's eyes snapped open. "You mean you're not sure, and you're using it on me right now?!"

  "Hahaha, relax, Leon! I'm just joking with you! I am using my gift, but I promise it doesn't work the way you are thinking. You will be fine. This isn't the first time I've used it on you either. I used it a few weeks ago when I doctored that blister on your foot. I can already tell it has helped, too. You're taller than you were when we first met!" Had he really grown that much? He decided to just leave her be and enjoy the scalp massage while it lasted.

  Afterward, he didn’t know how long to leave it in, so he advised they wait until later that evening to rinse once more.

  # # #

  When morning came the next day, and he finally saw his handy work in sunlight, he was thrilled with the results. Kyra’s rich blonde locks were darkened up to a lighter honey auburn hue. She acknowledged the same for him when she pulled his hat off and studied his curly mess of hair.

  They then revisited their overlook hill in an attempt to see whether their caravan was still camped in town. When they saw the town square empty, Leon suggested they pack up, fill their canteens, and head out.

  As they approached the large wooden gate Leon couldn’t help chuckling at himself. He could pass himself off as a ringmaster for a traveling circus back home. He led the Thunderbird by the reins with an owl perched on his shoulder and Merle at his side. Ahab rode up above their gear on the Thunderbird, wrapped in a cloth to hopefully prevent the type of unwelcome attention a tame griffin cub might incur.

  They were followed by a wide-eyed beauty riding an enormous bear. He had no idea what type of reception they might expect, but he did have an explanation in mind, if needed.

  “Hold it right there, young warrior!” a grizzled voice hailed him down from up on the wall above.

  “State your business in Gambler’s Gap.”

  Here goes nothing!

  “Good afternoon, sir! We are simply merchants returning from a trade excursion along the Fae border. We carry supplies to trade to the Otterkin merchants in Hollinger.”

  A moment later, the side door to the main gate popped open, and a fat old man in chain-linked armor came hobbling out to eye them all closely.

  “No one deals with the Ageless folk, boy.” His eyes belied his words as he studied their unique clothing and the cargo lashed to the tops of the creatures they led. He took an exceptionally long look at Leon's hat.

  Leon looked the man in the eye. “Well, I did.”

  The man studied him a long moment. “Perhaps you did at that. You take responsibility for them creatures? Never heard of a Cave Bear acting civil before. If he hurts someone, it's on your head!”

  “I take responsibility. We just need passage through, and we will be on our way.”

  The man eyed them suspiciously a little longer, then whistled back behind him. The main gate creaked open. Before they could proceed, he held out an open hand. “That’ll be two silver.”

  Leon had no idea how much two silver was worth, so he handed the man one of the gold coins he found in the Fae camp.

  The man’s eyes bulged when he realized what he had been given. His voice softened, and he leaned in conspiratorially, “Word of advice? Don’t go throwing gold around like that in these parts! And take the longer southern trail to Hollinger." He touched his forefinger to his nose and winked, "Just had a rabble of slavers come through who might not think twice about adding a pair like you to their merchandise, if you know what I mean?”

  Leon nodded, and the man gave him a wink in return before stepping aside and allowing them to enter Gambler’s Gap.

  There were a few cold stares at first, but people soon returned to their daily activities. Leon suspected those folks saw all sorts of strange sights from time to time, living in a border town as they did.

  Though Kyra remained in enraptured awe at the sights and sounds around them, Leon was careful not to stop to talk except to ask directions on the quickest route to Hollinger. Once he verified the directions with two more random people, he took a beeline toward the other side of Gambler's Gap, right through the middle of town.

  There was no wall on the other side of the Gap. The town just sort of petered out into open fields supporting miles and miles of farmland. When the road split, Leon took the northern route against the friendly advice of the gate guard. They couldn't afford to lose the caravan, and he didn't know precisely how much of a headstart the slavers had on him. Though, as an added precaution, he did have Merle sniff around to confirm they were on the right track.

  # # #

  As they continued their pursuit the drudgery of the day wore away. Farms became sparse as the terrain turned rocky. Twice Leon spotted large herds of curly horned sheep which fled when they saw his strange entourage, but they passed no other travelers.

  The road grew even tougher as evening descended. They followed a twisted path, cutting switchbacks up and around large granite uplifts. The winds added a challenge of their own, making it hard for Merle to anticipate what lay beyond each dip and corner. Therefo
re, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Leon was surprised, but it did.

  He came around a rocky edge in the trail and saw the edge of a wagon before catching himself and diving back for cover. He wordlessly hustled everyone back, further off the trail, into the rocky uplift, then whispered to Kyra.

  “They’re right there! Don't know if they saw me. We need to get out of sight, fast!”

  She took a look around and pointed to a ledge at least twenty feet up a steep but manageable hillside, then started climbing. It wasn’t ideal but Leon could tell it looked like it might house a ridge, perhaps wide enough to provide some protection out of sight.

  Grumpy followed right behind Kyra, making surprisingly little noise as he hoisted his bulk up the steep incline of loose rocks. Leon’s creatures followed with quick nudge from his gift. The only creature to struggle was the Thunderbird.

  He just couldn’t seem to gain any traction with only two long legs. However, in a moment of inspiration Leon touched the bird, sending a calm picture of it using its beak to find purchase each time it repositioned its legs.

  It still managed to slip a time or two, but it made it up onto the rocky ledge with the rest of them.

  There was a natural cleft that might serve as a sort of shelter back against the cliff wall and once Leon had everyone calm and settled, he crawled forward on his belly to lay beside Kyra as she kept watch over the road leading round the bend. The whole ordeal had taken less than two minutes, but Leon’s heart beat out of control with the adrenaline of coming so close to capture.

  They waited there silent and still as the shadows continued growing longer around them.

  Their voices came first. Deep hateful noises. Then three muscled up meatheads came stomping round the bend.