Chapter 17
Eleanor took her usual room at the Old Barrel Yard and asked Ade to start spreading the word to gather everyone who’d volunteered to join her special branch of the revolutionary guards. She had to get them started with a proper training programme before she disappeared to collect the Association’s new students.
It was a diverse collection of men and women who turned up to meet her a few nights later, ranging from a handful of youngsters who were barely out of school, to older couples who huddled nervously together and looked as though they hadn’t done a day’s exercise since their schooldays, to a group of scrawny, weather-beaten sailors with shell talismans strung about their necks. Ade had told her that most seafaring folk wore something similar, in deference to the Lady of the Waves, though in normal company cult symbols were kept safely out of sight. One girl of about Eleanor’s age carried a curly-haired toddler at her hip.
Eleanor looked them over. This was certainly going to be more interesting than refining the skills of the Association’s usual recruits.
“Welcome to the First Revolutionary Guard Corps,” she said. “As you know, we’re looking at strengthening the borders of our rebel districts, and undermining the Empire. For that we need people like you. Or rather, people like you will be when I’ve finished with you. I hope no-one said this was going to be easy.”
They watched her with cautious smiles. A plump, middle-aged man put a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders, but no-one said anything.
Eleanor pulled a pair of throwing knives from her belt and sent them spinning in opposite directions to lodge in opposite beams of the tavern walls. Her audience gasped.
“I’m here to teach you a few of my skills,” she said. “And it won’t be long before you can do that, but we’ve got to start with the basics.”
She set them off by outlining a simple jogging route, just a couple of miles out from the tavern and back again.
“Leave him here,” she suggested to the young mother, whose name turned out to be Rosemary, as the others headed for the door. “Ade can keep an eye on him for you.”
“Ollie’s the reason I’m in the revolution. I couldn’t give him away. I mean, look at him.” She tousled his blonde curls and he smiled up at her. “I was hoping he could come with me on guard duty. I can’t make his daddy see sense, so I need to keep him close.”
“We’ll see about that later,” Eleanor said, wondering whether she shouldn’t send the girl straight back to regular duties. But she looked fitter than most, and perhaps she could be gradually separated from the child. “You’re not doing any guard duties tonight, anyway, just a bit of training – and he’ll slow you down. He’ll be safe here with Ade and Nasha.”
They had to run hard to catch up with the others, who were somehow managing to stay together and sustaining a surprisingly good pace.
“Great work,” Eleanor called out as she jogged alongside them. At the front, setting the pace, was a bald, broad-shouldered man in his late twenties who could have picked Eleanor up without breaking a sweat. She fell into step beside him. “What’s your name?”
“Dash.”
“What do you think, shall we go a bit faster?”
He looked back over his shoulder. “We don’t want to lose them.”
“You’re a natural leader, that’s good – we’ll need you – but for now let me worry about what they can manage. Show me what you can do.”
He sped up quickly, making Eleanor work twice as hard to match his speed with her shorter legs. By the time he’d settled again into his natural pace, only a couple of the youngsters were still keeping up. Eleanor left them to lead the way and fell back to encourage the others.
“Eric, isn’t it? How are you feeling?” she asked the plump man; he was wheezing a little, and still gripped his wife’s hand as they stumbled along.
“Fine,” he gasped. “Just fine.”
Eleanor turned to his wife, who looked a little more comfortable, but not much. “And you?”
“This is fun,” she said, tugging at her husband’s hand to encourage him to speed up. “We’re going to enjoy this, you know. It’s nice to have a way we can contribute to the revolution.”
Eric nodded, but couldn’t find the breath to speak.
“Great,” Eleanor said. “And what’s your name?”
“Lise.”
“Okay, keep it up, we’re nearly half way.” The small leading group was already coming back towards them.
“When are we going to learn to fight?” asked one of the youngest, a skinny girl who looked hardly old enough to have left school. “I thought we’d need to do that first.”
“You will,” Eleanor said. “But I need you all to have a good level of fitness. There’s no point giving you a knife if you don’t have the stamina to stand up and use it.”
“I’m already fit,” the girl said.
“Oh, good. Then you can catch up with Dash, and tell him that when he gets back to the tavern, he needs to form everyone into two teams as they arrive.”
The girl nodded and broke into a sprint, but she was panting before she reached the turning point, and had almost collapsed by the time she passed Eleanor again in the other direction. She avoided Eleanor’s gaze and kept running, but it was clear she was struggling.
“If you keep going at that speed you won’t make it back,” Eleanor said, turning to run alongside her. “Let alone catch up with Dash.”
“You knew I couldn’t do it,” the girl said. “That’s why you asked me. Isn’t it?”
“You told me you didn’t need to train. Come on, slow down to a pace you can manage – we’ll run together for a bit and you can tell me about what brought you into the revolution.”
“Me? I just... we just graduated. It seemed like the right time to come and make a difference.”
“Were you all at the same school?”
“Molly and me were...” She paused to catch her breath, breathing heavily as her feet pounded against the road. “Jace was at the boys’ school nearby, and he knew some of the others. We all came across together.”
“What was your assignment? What were you supposed to be?”
“Teacher,” she said. “Little ones.”
“This is going to be a bit different, then.” Eleanor smiled. “Thanks for putting your name down.”
“Like I said. We want to make a difference, and this is it, isn’t it? This is going to be the war.”
Eleanor nodded. No-one could deny that war was on the horizon, even if they didn’t quite know when it would break out and envelop them.
By the time they got back to the tavern, those who’d got there before were half way through fresh tankards of beer.
“Did you think that was it?” Eleanor asked, standing with her arms crossed beside their table. “Or is this what you think counts as good training?”
“I thought we’d done,” Dash said, getting to his feet and draining his mug. “But I see I was wrong. What next, boss?”
“Nicole’s in charge,” Eleanor indicated the skinny girl. “She’s going to get you into two teams – as even as you can make it, Nic. And then we’re going to have a little competition.”
As the stragglers arrived in ones and twos, Nicole divided them into two groups at opposite ends of the bar. She split couples into separate teams, but if she noticed the discomfort some of them felt at being separated, she took no account of it.
“Okay?” she asked Eleanor once they’d all arrived and been sorted. Eleanor nodded. “What now?”
“Healthy competition can be a good motivator,” Eleanor said. “So we’re going to have a little race. You all know where we are, and I’m sure you all know the way to the cattle market. The first team to get from here to there will win, but after you leave this street your feet mustn’t touch the ground.”
“What?”
“You heard me. There are plenty of easy routes over the rooftops – if you can get on top of the tavern here, you shouldn’t find
it hard to get your bearings. But remember, you need to make sure your whole team gets there safely.”
“Okay, team, who already knows how to climb?” Dash asked. Nicole nodded yes, and a couple of the other youngsters had already disappeared outside to see what was what. Eric shook his head, looking sick at the idea, and Rosemary looked equally nonplussed. “Okay, come on, let’s go out and see what we’ve got to work with.”
“Who died and made you Emperor?” Nicole asked, but she still followed him into the street.
The second team had formed a tight huddle by the bar, talking in hushed voices. Eleanor left them to their discussions and followed the others outside; the interesting stuff would happen in the street. The route she’d given them was short and simple. If they could get everyone onto the rooftops, it was almost a gentle stroll across to the edge of the cattle market. She climbed up the wooden frame of the tavern and sat on the roof – near the skylight of her own bedroom – to watch.
“It looks easy,” one young lad called down. He and his friend were already on neighbouring rooftops, and from there they could even see the market square.
“I’m not sure how I’ll get up there,” Eric said. “It might be easy for you young things, but some of us are past that stage of life.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to do this, then,” the lad retorted. “Leave it to those of us who can.”
“That’s enough of that,” Dash said. “No more of that, or I’ll come up there and you can answer to me. We’re a team. Let’s act like it.”
Eleanor smiled to herself; she’d guessed he was going to be good, and he was proving her right.
“You got a plan?” Nicole asked. “Or are we just going to wait for them” – she motioned towards the door – “to come and catch us up?”
Dash ignored her and addressed himself to Eric and Rosemary, the most nervous members of his team. “Are you both okay with ladders?”
They nodded, still looking troubled.
“Okay, come over here.” He put one hand on the timber-framed wall of the tavern, and his other hand on the corner of the window frame. “Watch, and try to remember where I put my feet.”
They both obediently watched as he stepped up the wall; the timber framing provided reasonably straightforward holds, and by the time he reached the roof, Rosemary was almost ready to try for herself. Dash perched on the edge of the roof and grasped her hand as soon as she came close enough to reach, helping her to scramble up the last few feet. She made the mistake of looking down, and had to sit for a moment to recover her balance before walking across to where the two young men were waiting, but she had a quietly triumphant expression when she got to her feet again.
“Start walking,” Dash suggested. “Everyone who can climb by themselves might as well get up here while I help Eric.”
The second team came out into the street just then, and as Nicole swung herself up the wall they moved across to the next building which had a slightly lower roof, where a couple of the younger members formed a bridge with their hands for the others to step up. But Eleanor’s attention was divided between the two youngsters who were helping Rosemary to keep her balance as she walked across the tiles, and Dash who was encouraging Eric in every step he took up the wall of the tavern. If they could keep up this level of co-operation, then her revolutionary guards were eventually going to make a formidable force.
Eleanor jogged across to the edge of the market and waited to see how they’d handle the next big challenge: getting down again. She wasn’t surprised that Eric turned white when he looked down into the street, but the effort the others made to calm him and help him was both more surprising and more pleasing.
Once everyone had reached street level at the corner of the cattle market, they all walked back together.
“You can have a drink now,” Eleanor said as they came up to the door of the Old Barrel Yard. “You’ve certainly earned it.”
“When are we meeting again?” Rosemary asked.
“Tomorrow, if you like,” Eleanor said. “I take it none of you are still working on your Imperial assignments?”
“I am,” Eric said. “I don’t know how I’d survive without my stipend.”
“The revolution will take care of its own. You can’t be a rebel guard while you’re beholden to the Empire.”
He nodded his acceptance; his little bakery would be one man short tomorrow.
“So, you can all come back here tomorrow morning. We’ll do a bit more running, and if you impress me, maybe we’ll even take a look at what you remember from your school combat classes.”
The next morning, after another brief circuit through the streets, she handed out wooden practice knives for them to fight with and waved them into pairs. She was careful to split up the couples again, sure that they weren’t going to defend themselves as though it mattered when they were only under attack from their own spouse.
Dash ended up paired with Nicole, who examined her wooden knife with a distainful expression that Eleanor recognised all too well.
“I know,” Eleanor said. “You’ve used metal blades at school. Fine, I get that, and I felt the same when I first started training for the Association. But the point of this exercise is for you all to show me what you can do, and I don’t want to have to worry about injuries.”
“Okay.” She dropped into a mediocre imitation of a textbook stance, feet placed a little too close together to be stable, shoulders sloping a little more than they should.
Dash faced her squarely: feet apart, knees bent, confident in his own bulk. He held the knife as though it was just an extra obstacle to work around, and when Nicole darted forwards to aim a slashing cut at his chest, he deflected the blow with the flat of his hand.
“I know we’re using wooden knives,” Eleanor said. “I know it’s not very realistic, but please, would you pretend it’s a real blade coming towards you?”
“I am,” he said.
“What I mean is, you might want to try using your knife to block with. You wouldn’t want to cut your hand off.”
“Begging your pardon, boss,” he said. “But I’ve been in a few fights, over the years, and I’ve always managed to block the hand that holds the knife.”
Eleanor looked at Nicole. “May I borrow your partner for a moment?”
She nodded, looking a little perturbed as Eleanor pulled out a short, very sharp dagger.
“I want you to do what you just did,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to hurt you, I won’t do anything fancy.”
He nodded, tucked the wooden dagger into his belt as he waited for her to step forwards. As she extended her knife arm, intending only to strike him with the flat of the blade, his hand came out of nowhere and knocked her wrist sideways, taking the knife safely away from his body.
“See?” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked. “I thought you were a carpenter.”
“Like I said, boss. Just a few bar fights I’ve seen. If you don’t want to end up getting hurt by some upstart kid with a knife, you have to know how to defend yourself.”
“Well, it’s a great skill to have, but you still might want to learn how to use that knife – we’re not in a bar scrap now. We’re at war.”
“You said you weren’t going to try anything fancy,” he said. “But what would you have done if you were being fancy?”
“You don’t want me to show you.”
“You should. We’re going to be up against Shadows, like as not, and I’ve heard things. At least you could give us a clue what we’re expecting.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Nicole said, twisting the wooden knife between her fingers. “He don’t know what he’s asking.”
“Give me that, then.” Eleanor sheathed her dagger and held out her hand for the practice knife. “If I get past your guard, you’re going to know about it anyway.”
She dodged and feinted
a couple of times, switching the knife from one hand to the other, watching as his eyes followed the blade. For someone with no formal training, he was very good at this. Nevertheless, she knew she only had to wait. Eventually his eyes would flicker the wrong way, or he’d suffer a moment’s lapse in concentration, or he’d simply leave a gap he couldn’t cover. She would wait for that moment.
In the periphery of her vision she could see Nicole shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other. She was waiting, too, probably impatient to get some more practice herself.
Eleanor moved forwards, and sideways, and threw her dagger from one hand to the other... but she hadn’t waited long enough, and Dash’s hand caught the knife before she could strike, snatching it away and turning the blade on her. She ducked, blocked, and flung her leg out in a trip that sent him sprawling to the ground – and immediately felt guilty for using her instinctive reflexes to humiliate him when, in reality, he’d won. He still held the knife, whereas she was now unarmed, and in a real fight that would probably have been the end of her. In a real fight, though, she wouldn’t have been arrogant enough to rush into the first half-plausible gap. At least, she hoped she wouldn’t.
She extended a hand to help him to his feet.
“You’re a natural,” she said. “I think you and I need to talk some more, but for now, be nice to Nicole. I want her alive at the end of this.”
“Will do, boss.”
Eleanor left them to it and went to check how the others were getting on. They were having varying degrees of success – or suffering varying degrees of failure – but everyone still looked happy. More than one had developed purple bruises from cracks against the wooden blades.
“Every bruise would be a cut in battle,” Eleanor said. “Don’t forget that, when you’re at home with your arnica lotion and wishing the bruises away. Every mistake you make now is one you shouldn’t make when it matters.”
By the time she left them three weeks later to go and collect her new recruits from the Black Wolf Caves, she thought she would have happily put about half of them on a shift of basic guard duties. Of the others, she was less convinced. But she left them with an extensive programme of running and circuit training and sparring, and promised she’d be back within a couple of months. That, she hoped, would be long enough to take the new students and make them presentable.
“Meanwhile, Dash, how do you fancy your first short mission?”
“Of course, boss.”
“Great.” She steered him out of earshot of the others. “I want you to take a horse and ride to Woolport, and then find yourself a little boat. Wait for darkness and sail out to the rocky outcrop they call the Faery Stacks, and you’ll be met by someone from the Association. Tell them that Eleanor sent you, and that we’d like Bill or maybe Andreas to get down here and do some hand-to-hand training.”
“Will they believe me?”
She shrugged. “Probably not. You’d better go unarmed, and if they challenge you then let them capture you. Learn to go placidly – they won’t kill you out of hand if you don’t fight. Ask to see Sebastien, and tell him Eleanor’s told you about that time she almost killed Mikhail for calling her Ellie.”
He stared at her. “You did that?”
“Why do you sound so surprised? You know I’m a professional killer.”
“Sure, but that’s professional. You don’t have a temper.”
She almost laughed, but stopped herself. Maybe he’d just been lucky, or perhaps he was right – perhaps she’d mellowed.
“It was a while ago,” she admitted. “I was young, and I was having a really bad day. Anyway, tell him that, and he’ll know it was really me.”
Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2) Page 49