by L. EE
The frankness and reality of Cadfael’s speech left Andy with a cold prickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“Daddy! Daddy! Mama wants you to come for dinner!”
Cadfael chuckled, swooping down and picking up a small, energetic bundle of boy with blond hair and a beaming smile who had come barreling into the foundry unannounced. He looked exactly like Hannah but smaller.
“Andy, I’d like you to meet my son, Rohin. We call him Ro for short.”
“Well hello, Ro!” Andy grinned. He knew Hannah had three younger siblings, but he’d never met them or her mom.
“Ro, tell Prince Andrew how old you are,” Cadfael encouraged.
Ro made a fist and studied it intently as he slowly raised three fingers. “I’m three,” the boy announced, thrusting out his hand for Andy to see.
“Well done, Son!” Cadfael cheered.
Andy joined in, chuckling. “Good job, Ro. It’s great meeting you.”
“Guess we better get moving before my wife sends the whole family to round me up,” Cadfael added.
At the conclusion of an uneventful dinner, Hans caught Andy on the stairs as he headed to his quarters for an early bedtime. He kept yawning throughout the meal and Father insisted he get more rest. He wasn’t sure he liked the situation. On his own, he’d been responsible for making choices about his bedtime, but no longer, it seemed. Yet he knew Father meant well.
“Andy, wait up,” Hans called.
“Oh! Hi, Hans.”
“After our conversation I went and checked my supply of ground horn of karkadann. It’s short by a jigger.”
“A what?”
“A jigger of ground horn is equivalent to a measure of unground horn.”
“A measure?” Andy cut in, clarifying. “And I bet you were also missing a couple gnut weed thistles, some dried Thriae, and a few hairs from a Kitsune.”
Hans jerked his head back and stared at Andy. “How did you know?”
Andy tapped his index finger against his lips and whispered, “Let’s talk in my room.”
After closing the door, Andy shared, “I have reason to believe Razen is trying to help cure Abaddon from the wounds my sword inflicted.”
“Aiding the enemy? That’s a very serious accusation,” Hans objected.
“Which is why I haven’t told anyone. Only Alden and Hannah know.”
Andy told Hans what they’d found in Razen’s office, including the recipe he’d memorized, to which the healer objected, “The King trusts him completely. How do you know he’s not curing a festering wound of his own? Do you have proof?”
“No, I just know.”
Hans raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. As you know, I don’t completely trust Razen, but I’m not about to go accusing him of helping the enemy, especially not without proof. Your father finds no fault in him, and I will rely on my King’s judgment. I suggest you keep this quiet unless you want to get yourself into a heap of trouble.” The healer added a frown to emphasize his point.
Andy slowly nodded.
“On a brighter note, I will say that recipe’ll definitely cure a serious wound. I’ve never seen any poison resist the force of horn of karkadann.”
Great, so Abaddon will be cured. Then what? He didn’t want to think about it, not after seeing the seven-headed monster turn citizens into vulture-people…or worse.
Andy didn’t have long to wait to test his suspicions. After dressing for bed, his dreams came quickly, leading him back to Abaddon’s dark castle. He stood before the menacing structure staring at three black statues just outside the ominous doors.
Two more than before, he thought.
Within minutes of arriving, Andy caught sight of a large vulture landing nearby. It transformed into a man, but not just any man. A man he despised. Razen quickly grabbed clothes out of a travel bag and dressed. He took a deep breath and then calmly waddled up the steps and into the castle, never noticing Andy.
Andy followed a few yards back. More black statues stood around the perimeter of the courtyard they passed through. Andy shivered as he did every time he saw the place. Razen showed no emotion but continued forward at as brisk a pace as waddling can take one, slowing only as he approached the dais that King Abaddon’s elaborately bedecked chair stood upon.
“My liege,” Razen pacified, bowing.
Abaddon sat slumped on his throne once again, listless. He motioned for Razen to approach. “This better work,” he growled.
“I’ve done much research and believe this serum has the greatest chance for success. It seems the sword poisoned your system, making transforming into any other being impossible. This concoction will neutralize the poison.”
“Spare me the details,” two of Abaddon’s heads replied in stereo. “Cure me.”
“I’ll need a kettle and flame, my liege.” Razen pulled out two containers from his bag as he spoke.
“Use the fire over there,” a vulture-warrior instructed, pointing.
“Very well. It will take twelve hours.”
“Then get on with it,” came the dragon’s terse reply after which three of the heads drooped to seat level.
Another vulture-man lugged a black kettle over to Razen who busied himself organizing the other containers he’d brought, chopping and crushing ingredients at a table before the hearth.
Andy found a comfortable place to sit and wait, leaning against a pillar near the middle of the room.
Every so often, Abaddon let out a moan and his heads drifted erratically.
I’d love to kill him, Andy thought. Sadly, he knew dreams wouldn’t permit it.
Andy found himself nodding off as he waited. How can I nod off in a dream? he wondered each time he caught himself dozing. Time sure doesn’t move the same in dreams, he realized when, after a long and monotonous wait, Razen declared, “It’s ready, my liege.” That couldn’t have been twelve hours. The bird-man poured the contents of the kettle into a tankard and handed it to a servant who shuttled it to the sickly creature.
The seven-headed beast greedily drank the potion with one mouth and with two others demanded, “How long will it take to work?”
“Under the circumstances, I am not sure, my liege. I would hope quickly.”
“You would hope. You would hope,” Abaddon mocked. “If it doesn’t work, you will bring me that stone with its loyalties switched!”
Razen bowed. “Yes, my liege.” His expression betrayed no emotion.
After a long while, the beast grew impatient and Razen’s expression was grim.
Finally, Razen broke the tension by concluding, “If it was going to work it would have done so by now, my liege.”
“I knew it!” the beast fumed in its weakened condition.
“My liege, we knew your case is special. No one has attempted to neutralize wounds from the sword Methuselah.”
“I’ve heard enough! Bring me energy!”
Immediately, four vulture-warriors shoved a line of twelve bound men, women, and children toward the throne.
“No!” Andy shouted, waking himself.
Foggy sun shone through the window and Andy knew he’d slept late. He dressed and made his way down to breakfast.
“Good to see you, Son!” the King boomed, standing up from his chair at the head of the long communal table and giving Andy a hug. Andy reveled in the closeness and then surveyed the table. It looked as though the King had finished his meal.
“Good morning, Father. Did Razen taste your breakfast?” Andy questioned abruptly.
The King laughed. “As a matter of fact, he did not. I haven’t seen him yet today. He’s probably attending to castle operations. Why?”
“Uh, no reason. Just curious.”
The King grinned, amused. “How are you feeling today? Your face is looking closer to its former shape.”
“Better, thanks.”
“I’ve got a meeting with my war council early this afternoon. I’d like you to
attend.”
“Really?” Cool!
“You’re going to be ruling this kingdom one day. You need to learn battle strategy.”
Andy nodded but thought, What will happen to Mom and Dad?
The King and Andy chatted a bit more while Andy ate his breakfast, then they scattered to their respective morning activities. For Andy, this meant a private lesson with Cadfael.
Andy approached the Cavalry Training Center and was about to heave open one of the heavy doors when he heard a familiar voice close by calling his name.
“Andy! Can you come help?”
He looked around and spotted Merk madly waving an arm, motioning for him to come. Merk had pulled the leather pouch of a giant slingshot back all the way.
“I forgot to move something out of the way. Can you hold this while I do?” asked the eccentric gnome.
“Sure.”
“Be careful. Don’t let it slip. I’ll be in the line of fire.”
I wonder why he doesn’t just let it loose and then go move whatever it is? The thought flitted through Andy’s mind, but he immediately dismissed it, rationalizing, I’m sure he wouldn’t have asked me to help if he could have done that.
“Got it?”
Andy nodded, straining to hold back the tension.
Merk disappeared into the fog.
“Still got it?” Merk confirmed a second later from within the white cloud.
“Yeah.”
Andy’s muscles strained after holding it for more than a minute.
“You almost done?” Andy called a minute later.
No reply.
Beads of sweat sprouted from Andy’s brow and his arms began to shake.
Three or four minutes later he again called, “Merk, are you almost done? My arms are giving out.”
Silence. Then chuckling erupted from behind him.
“He got you good! Better you than us for once!”
Andy couldn’t turn and hold the slingshot.
“Merk’s inside having a cup of coffee.”
Hearing this, Andy immediately understood he’d been had. He let go of the leather pouch and the projectile flew as he fell to the ground, arms exhausted.
Andy had seen Henkel and Medrick a year ago. The dwarfs directed construction of the large weapon systems Father and Mermin invented, but he’d never met them.
“I’m Medrick.” The shorter, sturdy dwarf with an impressive beard stepped forward. “You must be Prince Andrew.”
Andy nodded, slowly standing.
“And I’m Henkel.” The slightly taller, round dwarf introduced himself.
“It’s great to meet you at last,” Andy intoned. “Alden told me you don’t like folks interrupting your work.”
“Alden would be right, but we couldn’t let this opportunity go. We’re usually the brunt of Merk’s attempts at humor,” Henkel explained, ending with another chuckle.
“Well, we best be gettin’ back to work,” chimed Medrick.
“See ya,” Andy bade them goodbye.
Andy entered the foundry, his original objective. The coolness surprised him until he saw smoldering coals in the forge; it slumbered yet, waiting for someone to pump air into the bellows and awaken it.
Two blond-haired little girls took instruction from a woman dressed in a blue dress with matching headscarf. “Charis, put that pile of rags on the workbench over there.” The woman pointed across the large room. “And Larissa, bring your pile here, please.”
“Andy!” boomed Cadfael. “Good morning.”
Andy walked toward his instructor.
“I’d like you to meet my wife, Lucee, and these are my daughters, Charis and Larissa.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Andy bowed his head as the three ladies curtsied.
“Charis is seven and Larissa is five,” Cadfael added proudly.
“Come here, Ro,” Lucee called. “That’s right, bring your rag here.”
Ro bounded over with a big grin plastered across his face. He dragged a now-dirty rag behind him. When he reached the adults, he stood on tippy toes and handed it to his father.
“Good boy!”
“Lucee works in the laundry,” Cadfael informed.
“That’s right! Hannah mentioned that,” Andy replied, remembering.
“My husband’s told me all about you,” Lucee added, rubbing her husband’s muscular arm.
“Nothing too bad, I hope,” Andy joked.
“On the contrary, he goes on and on about your Oscray skills.”
Andy felt his face warm.
“Speaking of skills,” Cadfael interrupted after clearing his throat, “I’m giving Andy a private lesson. I’m teaching him the fundamentals of fighting with a dagger. Never know when you’ll need to know.”
“Well then, we best be on our way and let you men get to training,” Lucee concluded with a wink.
“Come children!” she commanded, and away the troop went.
As soon as they left, Cadfael turned to Andy and said, “You ready to learn how to fight with your dagger?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Let’s head outside so we have more room to move.”
As they did, Cadfael chatted. “Alden told me the two of you learned your sword fighting skills from some talented knights.”
Andy grinned. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Fighting with a dagger builds on what you’ve learned already. What I’ll teach you about fighting with your dagger assumes you don’t have use of your sword for some reason. Never use your dagger before your sword. You always want to be as far away from your opponent as possible.”
“Sounds good to me!”
“So, if you must engage in a fight with your dagger, I want you first to understand you will get cut.”
“Really?”
“Really. You need to expect it, so that when it happens you don’t freeze. You never win a dagger fight, you only survive one.”
“Oh.”
“Pull out your dagger.”
Andy did so and assumed a ready position.
“This may sound obvious, but always keep your knife between you and your opponent. No need to wave it around or do anything fancy with it. Keep your moves simple.”
Andy nodded.
“The hand that holds the knife I’ll call your knife hand. The other hand I’ll call your shield hand. Keep your shield hand in a position that protects your throat and chest. Better to have an opponent injure your shield arm than your chest. Show me.”
Andy looked down at his left arm, then slowly raised it to heart level.
“Always keep your eyes on your opponent. Never look down or anywhere else.”
Cadfael lurched forward, slicing Andy in the neck with the side of his rigid open hand. Andy stumbled back two steps, grabbing for his neck.
“You’d have been dead.”
Andy had learned from the knights to not give an excuse for failing to do something but to remain silent and learn from the mistake.
Andy nodded and got back into his ready position, dagger in hand, staring at Cadfael as he raised his shield hand to chest height.
“With your knife, you should focus on defending yourself, not attacking like I just did. Assuming your opponent is experienced, he’ll probably be proficient at blocking your attacks and shielding himself, so you won’t be able to severely injure him. Focus on disarming him. Without a weapon, your adversary will have fewer ways to hurt you.”
“Understood,” acknowledged Andy.
“To disarm, go after one of two places on your attacker’s knife arm: the forearm or upper arm, either one. If you injure the forearm, your opponent will drop his knife. If you injure the upper arm, you’ll restrict how far he can move his blade toward you.”
Andy nodded.
“As with sword fighting, let your opponent make the first move. He will leave himself open to a defensive strike from you. Your opponent has only two options for attacking you: from above, bringing his dagger down, or from below, b
ringing his weapon up, like this.”
Cadfael demonstrated both possibilities. “Let’s work on defending against the downward strike this morning and we’ll do the upward strike tomorrow. So, for the downward strike, one effective technique to block it is crossing your forearms into an X as your enemy brings his dagger down. Your shield arm should be on the bottom, knife arm on top. Your enemy’s knife should end up in the V between your arms. Try it.”
Cadfael came at Andy several times until Andy got the hang of the move. Finally satisfied, Cadfael continued, “Okay, from that position, step to the side to deflect your enemy’s momentum so his back is now toward you. At the same time, still in the V, bring your knife hand down, trapping your adversary’s hand behind his knife. He can’t get away unless he drops his weapon. Continue your momentum, pushing your enemy to the ground with your shoulder. Try it.”
Again Andy imitated the moves. “Excellent!” he exclaimed a few tries later.
“You’re getting the hang of it, Andy. Well done,” Cadfael praised, wiping sweat from his brow. “Practice with Alden and Hannah today. We’ll pick up there tomorrow morning, same time. For now, I need to get to work.”
“Great! Thanks, Cadfael!”
Andy entered the back door of the castle looking for Alden. Wherever his best friend was, Hannah couldn’t be far away, at least not these days. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies assaulted his nose as he reached the kitchens and stepped inside. Immediately, he saw the backs of nearly all the staff crowding around, arms raised, staring at the open window on the far wall. Ox wielded a cast-iron skillet above his head, preparing to strike as he crept forward.
“Don’t hit it. What’d it do to you?” Gwinny exclaimed.
“Just shoo it out, Ox,” Marta instructed.
Andy stood on tiptoe but still couldn’t see over the adults. He grabbed a stool and approached. Placing it behind a shorter staff member, he climbed on top. As soon as he did, chaos broke lose. A bright flash of gold shot from the window toward him, accompanied by a honking sound. Ox swung but missed. Seconds later, the flash struck Andy, knocking him off his perch and onto the floor. He landed on his back and the gold flash landed on top of his chest, honking to exaggerate its point. Andy scrambled up, trying to get away, but a golden goose flapped and nipped at his feet despite his efforts to shoo it off.