by Ann Boelter
“I do not wish to return,” Exanthia murmured with her head down.
“Why not?” Nena could not believe it. Exanthia had been so excited to begin her warrior training.
“The trainer said I will not make a warrior because I have weak blood. He said it is a waste of his time to try to train me.”
Nena smoldered with barely controllable fury. After they had endured so much to return here, she and Exanthia had both been met with disparagement and doubt. She fought to not let it show. She did not want Exanthia to see how serious she felt the words were, or to give them any credence.
“That’s nonsense. And who would you believe—me or someone who just met you? Your trainer does not yet know you, like I do. I have known many great warriors, and you possess the inner strength and bravery that set them apart from others. You lack only the skills that anyone can learn. Strength and bravery, on the other hand, cannot be taught. You must be patient.”
Exanthia nodded.
“And I will help you, so you can catch up to the other girls your age more quickly. Perhaps I will even go to watch your next lesson so I can gauge where you need the most work,” Nena lied. She knew Exanthia needed work in every aspect of combat. She wanted only to see this instructor. “Then tonight, you and I will start working on those areas together. How does that sound?”
Exanthia smiled and nodded, her spirit bolstered.
“Now run along, so you are not late. I’ll be there shortly.”
Exanthia rose and trotted back toward the practice area. After a few minutes Nena followed. She had not accompanied Exanthia intentionally. She wanted to observe the practice unnoticed, to witness the cause of Exanthia’s sudden change in attitude. Nena knew if they arrived together it would cause a stir, and the true actions of the culprit might not be revealed.
As she stood watching the young man, it was all she could do to keep her anger in check. He was demonstrating the use of poles—Nena’s favorite and one she excelled in. He was young, perhaps sixteen or seventeen summers, but it was customary for young warriors to be trainers. It allowed them to continue to work on their own skills while they educated others. But this young warrior was not educating at all. He was humiliating them and reveling in his own expertise. She watched as the second young girl was tripped and thrown to the ground. No explanation was given as to what she had done wrong or how she could improve.
Still rankling from her brother’s words, Nena made her way to the young man at the front of the group. “It appears you have no equal with which to give proper demonstration,” she said as she approached. She recognized him as being from a lower ranking family, but could not recall his name.
He smiled and nodded, thinking she was complimenting him.
“Perhaps you will allow me to join you as your aide, to better show these girls proper form and technique?” Nena knew she could not join the class without his invitation. It would cause him insult, and she did not have the right. She also knew with the way she had worded it, he would not refuse.
“Yes, that would be most welcome,” he said. “These girls are poor students.” Nena could not believe how cocky he was and again had to bite her tongue. She thought back on how her own instructors had always said the students were a reflection of the teacher—how they needed every student to do their best, to do them proud.
Nena picked up the sticks he had allowed the girls to use against him. They were knobby and poorly balanced. She noted his were smooth and perfect.
“The first thing I will add to this lesson, is to know your weapon,” she said to the girls. “Your instructor has given you inferior weapons to use. They are poorly balanced and far more difficult to wield.”
She saw him scowl from the corner of her eye.
“But I am sure he has done this on purpose to simulate battle, where often you must use whatever is available, and you may face an opponent with far superior weapons than yours.” She turned back to him. “I am ready.”
“Would you like a different set?” he offered.
“No, these will be fine and will better make your point.” And mine.
He tapped at her with the sticks, tentatively at first. Nena blocked each blow but did not counter. He grew more bold and pressed her, his blows coming faster and harder. He twirled one pole in an unsuccessful attempt to distract her while he struck with the other. Nena continued only to block. With no warning, Nena went on the attack, in three strikes, the instructor was on his back on the ground. Nena turned to the group.
“Always aid your sparring partner to rise when they have fallen. It shows you have no hard feelings and are only training.” She reached for his hand, but he rolled away and bounced to his feet. Nena smiled to herself.
Gone was all trace of the cocky smile now. He came at her hard this time. Their sticks clacked and clashed, the sounds resounding in the small meadow. Nena made him pay with multiple hits to his body this time before she humiliated him again and threw him on his back. She reached out her hand. Again he refused it.
The third time, she beat him severely, raining blows against all parts of his body. She wanted to make sure that his aches reminded him of this lesson for days after it was over. She spun to one side and put her whole body into a blow across his back. He stumbled forward in pain, but did not cry out. When he faced her again, she saw the fear and defeat in his eyes. He clearly no longer wanted to continue, but didn’t dare say so. He had yet to reach her with a single blow. When he was on his back for the third time, Nena pounced and straddled him, using a pole against his neck to cut off his wind. He held up the first two fingers of his left hand to signal his submission.
Nena leaned down and whispered in his ear. “This is how you teach them. Do you think this is a good way? Did you learn much today? I suppose you did, but what I meant was, did anything I taught you today improve your skills with the sticks? No,” she answered for him. “You are these girls’ instructor. It is your job and should be your pride to see them excel. Any failings they show are a direct reflection on you. This is not a game. One day your life and mine may depend on the level of skill they achieve. Do you understand me? From now on, I expect to see you take care in teaching them properly. Their weaknesses are not to be exploited for your amusement; they are to be corrected.”
He nodded, his eyes bulging. Nena released him and stood, extending her hand. He took it this time, and she pulled him to his feet. She heard single slow hand-clapping behind her and turned to find Gentok approaching. “That was quite a display,” he said.
Still angry from the session, and caught off guard at being witnessed, Nena tipped her head to acknowledge him.
“You are done for the day,” Gentok said to the instructor. “And I will have words with you tomorrow before you return.” The youth nodded, his hand still on his throat, then limped away. Gentok turned to the wide-eyed girls. “Take a short break, but do not leave. It will only be for a few minutes and then your training will resume.” The girls all split up and moved to the shade, whispering excitedly. He turned back to Nena. “What was the subject of today’s demonstration, might I ask—how to thrash someone?”
“I merely continued the lesson he was already teaching, exactly as he was teaching it. The only change I made was to make him the recipient.” She defended herself. “He is not a suitable trainer. The girls will learn nothing from him.”
“I’m not judging you. I’ve heard other complaints, and I will speak to him tomorrow. If he does not change his ways, he will be replaced. And I will make sure he knows it will bring great shame on him if that happens. Though I think you made the point well enough today; my words may not be necessary.” He paused and looked at her. “Now for the matter at hand. Would you like for me to aid you in giving them a proper demonstration? Was that truly your intent? Or would you rather try to give me a thrashing, too? If it’s just a good fight you need, I’m willing to oblige that as well, though we should probably conduct that somewhere else, so as not to intimidate them.”
Gentok spoke in a teasing tone, but Nena could see he was serious. He knew her well. He could see the tension bottled beneath her controlled surface. She considered his offer. She would appreciate a good fight, and might, in fact, take him up on that later, but at the moment teaching the girls was more important to her.
“Your offer to assist in their instruction today is most appreciated,” she said.
“Very well then. And my other offer still stands for another time.”
Nena nodded and called the girls back. “As a female warrior, you will often be called upon to fight a male opponent who is bigger and stronger. To do so you must be faster. But you cannot rely only on quick reflexes. You need to read ahead, to anticipate the opponent’s moves by their subtle signals. Gentok and I will now demonstrate. Every time we identify a tell sign of the other, we will stop the fight and point it out. You should all come closer and try to see what we are talking about.”
Nena and Gentok each picked out a set of poles and twirled them to check for weight and balance. Then each dipped the ends into colored chalk to better show when a blow was landed. Nena chose red, Gentok blue.
“When you are ready,” he said and tipped his head, deferring to her.
Nena scrutinized him. He appeared relaxed, but she was not fooled. It had been many years since she had sparred with Gentok, but she remembered her lessons well. He was as fast as lightning. But she had learned more than a few things since she was that young warrior in training. She called upon all of her senses to read his moves, then struck.
Gentok deflected the blow and countered with a strike of his own.
Nena ducked and felt the swoosh of air as the pole passed over her head.
“Stop,” she called out. “Did anyone see what I saw before Gentok swung the pole and I ducked?” she asked their audience. “His little fingers tighten on the pole.” She smiled at him. “Again,” she said.
They circled each other, each making and deflecting multiple strikes.
“Stop.” It was Gentok this time. “Did anyone see how Nena plants the heel of her left foot before she strikes with her right hand?” He smiled back. “She was once my student and has done that since she was a girl your age. Improving your fighting is not only seeing the opponent, it is disguising your own moves. When you know you make a particular sign, you must try to hide it.”
Nena flushed and in that moment felt like the young girl he had schooled long ago.
For the next twenty minutes they sparred, each occasionally landing a blow on the other. Every time they stopped and explained what had transpired, what signals their opponent had telegraphed prior to making a move that allowed them to avoid it or land it.
“Now I am going to put you all in pairs and you are to practice what we just showed you,” Nena said. “The goal is not only to win, but to improve your partner as well. So, whenever you are able to land a blow, I wish to hear you explain to them what you saw or what they did not do, that enabled you to do so. Is that clear? Gentok and I will move among you to observe and give tips. You must all strive to excel individually, but success in battle depends on the entire group. Every member must be strong. Do you understand?”
The girls all nodded.
“Very well.” Nena walked among them. “You and you.” She pointed to two taller girls who both had similar serious competitive expressions on their faces. “And you and you.” She paired two other girls of similar age and build. “And you and you.” She pointed to Exanthia and a girl about the same age. She could have paired her with one of the younger girls who would be less skilled, but Nena did not want to embarrass Exanthia by pairing her with a child.
The girl Nena chose to pair her with, though athletic, had an expression Nena remembered well from her days at this age. This girl had no fire, no desire to be a great warrior. She would be one of the girls for whom the gods chose very early, probably as soon as she became a woman, and probably before she ever made a single raid. She would hopefully be a good partner for Exanthia. She could share her knowledge, but would have no competitive desire to best her.
For the next hour Nena and Gentok coached the girls. They moved among them observing and occasionally stepping in to show a particular hold or technique. When the girls were all perspiring from the exertion, Gentok called an end to the lesson. After the last girl had put away her practice sticks in the wooden storage crate on the side of the field and left, he turned to Nena and smiled. “Their parents will thank us. They will all sleep well tonight,” he said.
“Yes,” Nena agreed as they began the walk back to the village together. “Gratitude, for your help today,” she added.
“None required. I enjoyed it.”
“As did I,” Nena admitted. For the first time since her return she did not feel on edge. She knew it was because, like the girls, she, too, was physically spent, but still it felt good. For the moment she was free of all worries and doubts. She thought of how happy Exanthia had been when she’d left with her new friend, Shia, after the lesson was over. “Exanthia lacks skill, but even more lacks confidence. Once she has that, she will catch up quickly,” she said.
“Yes,” Gentok agreed. “She is fortunate you take such an interest in her training. To be trained by Nena, one of the greatest Teclan female warriors ever,” he embellished with a grin.
“You tease me after pointing out my many mistakes today. I have grown sluggish,” Nena said ruefully as she rubbed the multiple blue marks on her arms and dress.
“You were not without success today.” He pointed to the red evidence. “You have improved much since your lessons as a girl. In many ways.” Nena turned and found Gentok’s dark brown eyes on her. They were warm with appreciation, like Jarl’s eyes used to be. She recognized the significance of the look and waited for her body to respond. Gentok was handsome and very expressive by Teclan male standards. She felt nothing. Gentok covered the awkward pause with a smile, and they continued to walk for a short distance in silence. “I understand you will be inducting Exanthia into the tribe tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes. There is no reason to delay, and it will bring her great peace of mind.” Nena was grateful for the change in subject. “Will you be there?”
“Give her my apologies, but I will not. I must take my turn at the cliff gates. Tell her I will be sure to bring her my welcome gift.”
They came to a fork in the path and paused.
“Nena,” he said.
“Yes?” She turned to look at him.
“I professed my willingness to be chosen by you before, when it was the gods’ choice. I want you to know for your next choosing, that willingness still stands.”
Nena remembered his earlier declaration well. The entire tribe had whispered about it for a long time—not because Gentok had professed his willingness to her; he was a very qualified and suitable candidate. Everyone had whispered, because he had professed his willingness only to her and no other. Many feared that his attempt to force the gods into only one choice would anger them. She wondered if he had professed to any others in her absence. “Gratitude, Gentok. But I am not yet ready to choose.”
“I understand. I just wanted you to know, when you are ready, I will be waiting.”
“I, NENA, HEREBY declare you, Exanthia, as my ward. From this day forward you shall be known as Exanthia of the Teclan, Ward of Nena, Daughter of Meln, Chief of the Teclan tribe. Your previous life is forgotten. Your blood is now as true Teclan as any born to the mountain. You are one of the Teclan people, deserving and entitled to all rights, equal in every way.
“To welcome you, I give you this set of combat poles carved from the black oak of the Teclan mountain. They were my training sticks, and I hope they teach you as much skill as they taught me.”
Nena stepped back and watched as her father approached next. “I, Chief Meln, welcome Exanthia of the Teclan with this gift.” He held up a leather cord necklace with a single long lion’s fang dangling from the center. “This is a tooth from the Gre
at Lion. It is mate to the one I also wear.” He lifted his own up from his neck, and held them close together for a moment, before placing hers over her head . Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Even Nena was impressed by the thoughtfulness and symbolism of his gift. He had worn the two large teeth around his neck since he had killed the lion as a youth, long before she was born.
Lothor and his very pregnant wife were next. Nena held her breath, praying that her brother’s bile would not ruin this moment. “I, Lothor, welcome Exanthia of the Teclan with this dagger. The blade is knapped from the black stone that is found only on the Teclan mountain. May it keep you safe and service you well.” Lothor handed her the dagger and stepped to the side. “And I, Belda, wife of Lothor, welcome you with this cape made from the pelt of the high goat, also found only on the Teclan mountain. May it keep you warm and bring you comfort wherever you find yourself.” Baldor’s sister handed Exanthia the fur.
One by one, people from the tribe stepped forward to present Exanthia with a gift and to welcome her.
“There is so much,” Exanthia murmured, when it was over, overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of the gifts. “This is more than my whole family ever had.”
“There will be more,” Jalla said. “Those who could not attend the ceremony today will come later with their gifts.”
“They accept you, Exanthia. You are one of the people now. Never doubt that and never doubt yourself. You have much to learn, but plenty of time to learn it, and plenty who will help to teach you. I could not be more proud of you if you were my own daughter.” Nena hugged her. “Though where we’re going to put all your things, I’m not sure. There will be no room left for Jalla and I.”
Jalla called them to eat as Nena picked up an armful of gifts and followed Exanthia inside the tent.
“If you choose Gentok, will we all live together in the same tent?” Exanthia asked as she took another bite of smoked fish. She had changed into a new beaded dress and had the mountain goat cape draped around her shoulders, even though it was quite warm. She had barely stopped chattering during the whole meal.