by Pirateaba
“Well I don’t know! I’ve never been in a fight before I came here!”
This time it was Calruz’s turn to eye Erin.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“What about your creature? Surely it knows how to do battle.”
Calruz pointed at Toren, who was silently watching him teach Erin. The skeleton made a fist. It looked okay to Erin, but Calruz took one look and shook his head.
“That neither you nor your—pet know how to defend themselves is a shame. Were you never taught how to fight?”
The Minotaur looked both surprised and disgruntled. He shook his head unhappily.
“I see I have much to teach you. Starting with how to strike.”
“What about your skill? That [Hammer Blow] attack was amazing! How about you teach me how to do that?”
“Someone who cannot even punch properly would never learn a skill.”
That made sense, but Erin had more questions. She hadn’t really been able to ask Calruz yesterday, what with having to cook dinner.
“Okay, your skill is super-advanced. But how do you do it? I mean, is it magic?”
Calruz snorted.
“I am no mage. That was a Skill. It allows me to transcend my hardest strike and turn it into something even stronger.”
“Yeah…I still don’t get it.”
Erin pointed at Calruz’s axe.
“If you swing that thing as hard as you can, how can you somehow hit harder than your hardest hit? Um. What I meant was—”
“It is the act of exceeding one’s limits.”
Calruz tapped the handle of the axe on his back. Toren had barely managed to get it out of the ground, but the Minotaur swung it around easily.
“There is art in this. My kind practices little magic. We are not ‘gifted’ enough to study spells as other races do.”
He snorted dismissively.
“But we are not weak. We understand war and battle. And this—we understand the flow of combat. To learn and use such skills, you must forget your frailties and strike with heart.”
“That sounds deep. Like a martial art.”
“Is that a kind of fighting Humans practice?”
“Yeah. It’s sort of like…um…a way to fight with your hands? You kick and punch in special ways.”
Erin tried to demonstrate a karate chop. Calruz actually seemed interested, although he winced as he watched her.
“I know a human who fights with her fists. She is…skilled. But wild. And she does not understand. She fights with cunning and grace, but she only fights at her limit. She does not think she can go further. Thus—she never will.”
He stared off into the distance.
“She lacks vision. I will make her understand that.”
That made no sense to Erin, but it was nice to see that Calruz had a crush on someone. She just hoped whoever it was appreciated big…bull guys. Somehow she had doubts about his romantic prospects, but she continued asking questions.
“So what’s the key behind a skill? Desire?”
“Not just desire. It is the refinement of a single strike into a moment of perfection. But that is something far beyond you at this moment. For now, you must learn to punch.”
He held up a massive hand, twice as big as hers palm towards her.
“Strike my palm. I will show you how to attack properly.”
Erin made a fist. Calruz immediately shook his head.
“Not like that. You will break your fingers if you strike unevenly.”
He held up his other hand and made a fist. It looked like a furry brick and Erin wondered what would happen if he hit her with it.
“Like this. Strike with your knuckles here and here. And keep your thumb outside your fist.”
Calruz pointed to Erin’s index and ring fingers, demonstrating with his own fist. She copied him, awkwardly shifting her fingers into the right positions.
“And then when you strike, step forwards and move your hips like so.”
He shifted his hips as he threw a lightning-fast jab. Erin blinked. She felt the wind from his arm.
“Okay let me try. Like—this?”
She punched his hand. It felt better, somehow. She could put more weight into it. Calruz grunted and nodded.
“Again.”
Erin punched again and again, switching hands at his directive. He nodded after a few more tries.
“Good. That is the proper technique. Now—kick!”
He showed Erin how to kick at his midsection and had her try. Twice she fell down, but after about ten minutes she was kicking hard enough to make him block with two hands rather than one.
“Now, the skeleton. Punch it.”
Erin eyed Toren. He immediately raised his hands like Calruz, but the Minotaur pointed at him.
“You. Thing. Dodge her.”
The skeleton turned its head to Calruz silently, as if wondering whether it should obey. But it started dodging left and right.
“Try to strike it.”
Erin did. Toren dodged. He was quite quick. She punched and kicked but he kept on dodging.
“You are painfully slow. Move faster! Don’t strike where he is, but where he will be.”
Calruz gave her advice—or insulted her as Erin tried, sweating. She punched at Toren and he leaned back effortlessly.
“Fast. Faster. Pull back your arm quickly.”
Erin chased Toren around fruitlessly for a few minutes, and then stopped and glared at Calruz.
“Why am I learning to fight with my fists? Shouldn’t I be using a sword?”
He shook his head.
“I am teaching you a basic truth. You must know how to fight without weapons or it will be a weakness others will exploit. Besides, you understand nothing of the flow of combat. You must learn to strike your opponent before you are worthy of using a blade.”
He looked at Toren. The skeleton wasn’t winded from dodging Erin, having no lungs to worry about but Erin was sweaty and gasping for air.
“Very well. We shall try something else. The skeleton shall guard and you will break through. Punch him, kick him. Destroy your opponent.”
Something about the way he said that bothered Erin. She squared up against Toren and tried a punch. This time the skeleton blocked it.
“Ow.”
“If you break your fingers or cut your skin there are potions. Keep attacking.”
Erin did. Toren had a harder time blocking her. She was stronger than he was, which was odd to think of. Erin punched and he shifted backwards in the grass slightly as his arm caught her fist. She kicked and he stumbled.
Erin waited for Toren to regain his balance which earned her a roar of disapproval from Calruz.
“Don’t stop! Press the attack! Your goal is to defeat your enemy. Hurt him. Mercy is a luxury only the strong can afford. Attack until he lies in pieces.”
Again, the words bothered Erin. But she punched anyways. It was easy. So long as Toren just blocked and didn’t jump around she could feint a punch and then kick—
This time her foot kicked one leg out from under the skeleton. He fell to one knee and Erin stepped forwards and punched him in the face. His head twisted sideways. Erin ignored the stinging in her hand and raised it again to knock him down.
She stared down at the empty skull and froze. For a second, she was on the ground staring up at a Goblin Chieftain with a sword in his hands. She smelled burning flesh.
She remembered. She remembered another face. Klbkch. And a pool of green blood. She held him in her arms as he died.
Slowly, Toren righted himself and got to his feet. He stared at Erin—as did Calruz. She couldn’t know that her face had gone deadly white, or that she was suddenly shaking.
“I can’t do this.”
Calruz shook his head.
“You must. You must learn to fight.”
“No.”
Erin shook her head, or was it her entire body that shook. She felt sick. She was close to throwi
ng up.
“I can’t. I’m no warrior.”
Unbidden, the words she’d dreamed of spoke themselves. Her childhood rhyme.
“The king is smart and uses his head. For if he moves, he’ll soon be dead.”
Calruz stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means—it means that whenever I got into trouble before I always got people killed. Or I killed. I nearly died. I can’t do it. Better to just let Toren learn to fight. Teach him instead.”
Erin pointed at Toren. The skeleton nodded, but Calruz shook his head.
“Your king. In times of need even he defends himself, does he not?”
He meant real kings, but it was true of chess as well.
“Only as a last resort.”
“This is the last resort I speak of. Someday, you will surely be alone and without anyone to protect you. Will you die then, or fight?”
Erin didn’t have any good comeback to that. She bowed her head.
“Striking a downed opponent may be wrong.”
There was something in Calruz’s voice that made Erin look up. He didn’t bark his next few words, but spoke more quietly, choosing them carefully.
“Perhaps—yes. There is more honor in you than I thought. Very well. I have little time so I shall simply teach you to fight. If you practice against your creature, you may learn the basics quickly enough.”
He gestured, and Toren raised his guard again.
“The skeleton will block. Simply strike at him. He is dead so it matters little what you do. Forget death and battle for the moment. Simply know the purity of combat.”
That sounded better. Erin nodded and stood straight. She made a fist and Toren blocked.
“That doesn’t mean strike like a pathetic weakling! Hit harder!”
Erin did.
“Ow.”
It wasn’t as if there was any soft part on Toren to hit. Erin punched again and her fist collided with his bony arm.
“Ow.”
After a few minutes Calruz had Erin learn to block. This time Toren attacked, striking her hands and arms hard. But it was easy. Surprisingly easy to see everything coming. Erin’s arms hurt but the skeleton never landed a punch or kick on her. He was probably taking it easy like Calruz, but the Minotaur seemed approving.
“Now—a spar.”
“Can’t we rest instead?”
Erin complained as she rubbed at her arms. She needed a healing potion. She could already feel the bruises.
“No. Consider this a final test. Both of you—spar with each other. You are a good match. Equally weak. Well, the skeleton knows how to fight but it should be good practice.”
She wanted to protest, but arguing with Calruz was worse than trying to shift a stubborn bull. Erin stumbled towards Toren as the skeleton raised his guard. He feinted at her. Mechanically she blocked.
Blocking was easy. Punching was easy. It was too easy. Fighting was—wasn’t something Erin liked.
Toren kicked at her chest and Erin’s arm was pushed away. He punched her in the breast.
“Ow! Hey—”
His fist caught her in the jaw. Erin stumbled, and then got mad. She caught his fist and slugged Toren in the head. This time he stepped back. The skeleton carefully eyed Erin and then charged.
That was too fast. And he’d never tried that on Erin. But she was angry now. She stepped sideways at the last moment and rammed him from the side. Toren went sprawling and Erin kicked him in the ribs as he was getting up.
She didn’t see how Caluz’s eyes widened as she blocked Toren as he rapidly struck at her face and sides, kicking, punching without landing a hit on her. Erin was just acting on instinct. Toren was so slow. He was a fighting machine, but he fought like a machine. He wasn’t original.
She stomped on his foot and pushed him down. Toren rolled as she kicked at him and leapt to his feet. He feinted at her face. Erin didn’t move. She could tell it was fake. Toren pulled his fist back, confused. Erin hit him futilely in the shoulder. The problem was that she couldn’t really hurt him. He was all bones.
But she was winning. She could feel it.
Erin was still sick. And tired. And her hands hurt. But there was something else there, too.
Frustration. And a bit of anger.
No—not just a bit. A quiet ocean, sitting just below the depths of Erin’s thoughts. A part of her hated violence. But another part was relieved she could fight back. It wanted her to never be helpless. It was anger, and something else.
And it felt—good to let it out.
Toren punched and received a cross-counter to the face. Erin didn’t know that was what she did. She just saw the opening and took it.
She kicked and Toren blocked. She dodged a fist to her side and slapped his arm down before hitting his arms as he covered his face.
His guard was faltering. Erin felt a rush of energy. She punched faster, putting her hips into the blow like Calruz had shown her. More strength. She was stronger than Toren, thanks to her skill.
She just wanted to knock that stupid skeleton down. He kept coming at her, again and again. It didn’t matter that she hit him. He was dead, and he had no flesh to bruise. But he didn’t hold back and her arms were hurting.
Toren had just kicked Erin’s leg and she was staggering. But she saw him run at her and something in her mind clicked. She stood up, raised her hand, took one step, and kicked.
One of Toren’s legs broke. Not the bones themselves—but the leg disconnected and the skeleton went down. He raised his arms and saw Erin’s fist flying at his head.
She felt it. A perfect strike. A moment of truth. Erin put her entire body into one hit, throwing her entire weight into a strike that smashed right through Toren’s guard and crashed into where his nose would have been if he was alive.
Thud.
His head detached. In slow motion, Erin saw the skeleton’s head fly off the body. She stared as Toren’s head flew off the top of the hill, bounced down the incline, and rolled to a stop fifty feet away.
Erin stared at the upright torso of Toren in shock. After a second it buckled and fell down.
She stared at her hand. She’d opened up the skin on her knuckles and she was bleeding. But she’d felt it. She’d hit Toren harder than she’d ever hit—or done—anything in her life. She’d felt it.
Erin stared around. She wanted to know if that was what Calruz was talking about. She looked at the Minotaur. He was gaping at her, mouth wide open, eyes bulging.
After a few moments Calruz closed his mouth. He stared at Toren and then at Erin. He cleared his throat a few times, and then looked at Erin.
“…Can you do that again?”
—-
“Take a good look at this.”
Gerial whistled and beckoned to Ceria. She broke off her conversation with Yvlon and both women walked over to see what was so interesting.
Cervial held up a massive crossbow, sleek black metal and pointed death. It wasn’t currently loaded of course, but just by looking the two adventurers could see how much power it had.
“What kind of weapon is that, Cervial?”
He grinned at Yvlon and held it out to her. She accepted it carefully and stared curiously at the device.
“A crossbow. Made by Dwarves. It’s like a bow, but one that you can load and wait until you need to fire. This one’s a piece of art.”
“Beautiful.”
Gerial took the bow from Yvlon as Ceria rolled her eyes. She wasn’t as impressed as the other two humans, but listened readily enough as Cervial extolled the virtues of the device.
“It cost nearly every gold piece we had, but it was worth it. We cracked the armor of a Stone Golem with one shot and we’ve brought down more shielded enemies than I can count with this.”
“And this is your trump card for the expedition?”
“We might be at a disadvantage if we run into tight corridors, but with this we’ll be able to pull our weight.”
&nb
sp; “Well, we’re all set here. We’ve got a battle plan worked out and my team and The Horns of Hammerad are set. Lir says his folks have enough mana potions. The only group not accounted for is Gerald’s. Where is he?”
Cervial grinned.
“Gerald is busy going through the last adventurers clamoring to join the expedition. He says he’ll probably turn them all down, but you never know who’ll turn up.”
Gerial reluctantly handed the crossbow back to Cervial. He could easily imagine the Horns of Hammerad with every member holding one of the deadly weapons. Well—everyone except Calruz and Ceria.
“Did we find anyone useful?”
“Some.”
Yvlon shrugged and counted off on her gauntleted fingers.
“A few mages, a Silver-rank with sword and shield…not too many, but better than nothing. I asked the mage you told me about Gerial, but he turned me down.”
Ceria glared at Gerial while he studiously looked the other way.
“It was ah, just a thought. We could use all the help we can get.”
Cervial shrugged. He carefully began unstringing the black crossbow.
“No use fretting about one or two swords now. We’re five adventuring teams. Counting the extras we’re over forty people strong and all of us are Silver-rank. If there’s a Gold-rank team better than this I’d love to see it.”
Gerial nodded. He glanced covetously at the crossbow as Cervial went to store it in a case, and then looked up. Both Yvlon and Ceria glanced up as well.
They were in the Adventurer’s Guild, sitting by themselves at a table. But someone had walked over. A Drake. He seemed…young, at least as far as they could tell. His scales were a lighter shade of blue than most, and he was smiling. At least, it looked like a smile. Just one with a lot of teeth.
“Um. Excuse me? I heard you were the team going into the ruins. Would you mind if I joined your group?”
The adventurers shared a glance. Yvlon cleared her throat and smiled at the Drake.
“I’m sorry, but we have enough fighters and this is a dangerous expedition we’re embarking on. We can’t take rookies or people who aren’t adventurers.”
The Drake looked surprised.
“How do you know I’m not an adventurer?”
“You don’t have any weapons or armor, and you act like a civilian.”