by David Hodges
“I’m not sure although now that you mention it, I did feel something strange the other night with my eyes. It was almost as if I could see better in the dark.”
“That narrows it down a bit, but not enough to be helpful to us right now. We’ll just have to try with a few different animals and see if any are particularly receptive, it might help give us an idea of what your Cineál could be. We’ll focus on summoning today. Your brother is Éan as was your mother, why don’t you start with a bird. Focus on calling that one over there.” She pointed at a wren sitting on top of a wooden beam. “Just try to think of nothing other than the bird coming to you.”
Hazel did as she was told, doing her best to will the bird toward her.
The wren looked back at Hazel and, after a moment, it glided down toward her and landed on her lap. Hazel was elated by her success as she smiled down at her new friend.
“Well done! Why don’t you try touching him? Now that you’ve called him, you may be able to read him with Léamhmothu.”
Hazel touched the bird and immediately saw the courtyard below. She saw Bjarke and herself entering and speaking with Zofia. She pulled her hand away and saw Zofia again. “It worked!”
Zofia replied, “It seems you’ve inherited the same Cineál as your brother. How do you feel? You don’t seem to be in any discomfort.”
“No, I’m fine. I didn’t feel much at all. I just saw the bird’s view of me and Bjarke walking into the courtyard.”
Zofia brushed her lips as she focused. “That’s unusual for your first time; it can be a bit disorienting for most first timers. It seems you’re talented, why don’t you try again, this time with one of my butterflies.”
Hazel looked down to the wren and let him go. He flew back to his perch.
She looked to the mass of butterflies. In an instant, the plant was bare and a cloud of green surrounded Hazel. Several landed on her. She saw blurry flashes, mostly brown, green and gray, and a dash of purple. She focused and the images stopped. She returned to her view of green wings softly beating at the air around her. She shifted her thought to Zofia and they floated back to the plant, reverting to their appearance as a dense covering of leaves.
Zofia remarked, “You are talented! It took me weeks to learn to call anything other than an insect.” Zofia was pondering something. “You might not be Éan after all. We should keep trying some of the other animals.”
Hazel successfully summoned a lizard and a squirrel, and was able to see their memories as she had with the bird and the butterfly. She decided to try with Ollie, who was eyeing the squirrel on her lap. She sent the squirrel off, and just as Ollie began to pursue it, she concentrated on him. He stopped and turned back toward Hazel, then approached her and hopped up on her lap. He purred as he kneaded at her thighs.
She went to give him a scratch on his head. As soon as she made contact with him, she saw herself... her arm fell to Ollie’s side. She saw her own eyes, they were each engulfed by a bright green iris. Her pupils were tall black slits. Her gaze was vacant.
Hazel turned back and saw Zofia, then realized what was happening. She focused on returning to herself, nothing happened. She began to panic, looking back and forth between Zofia and her vacant body.
Zofia rose and picked up Hazel’s hand, her body’s, then placed it on Ollie.
Hazel gasped and saw Ollie on her lap and Zofia in front of her.
Zofia looked astonished, even worried as she said, “That’s never happened before. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t watched it myself.”
Hazel caught her breath, then said, “What would happen if I couldn’t get back to my body to make contact with it?”
“You would be trapped.”
Hazel was disconcerted by the information. “Could I possess him by accident like that any time?”
“It’s not likely.”
“My Cineál, it must be a cat?”
“Yes, you’re Pishyakon. It fits the vision you experienced in the dark. Your uncle is Pishyakon as was your grandmother. I should have thought of it earlier.”
Hazel heard footsteps from the courtyard entrance. She looked and saw Faron approaching. Zofia said, “Faron, we were just talking about you.” She went to him and planted a kiss on his lips. “Our niece is Pishyakon.”
Hazel’s surprise must have shown.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Zofia said to Faron.
“Sorry. It slipped my mind,” said Faron.
“Faron is my husband, Hazel. I’m your aunt.” She looked to Faron. “A lot’s been slipping his mind lately. You put too much pressure on yourself. It’s not your sole responsibility to deal with Einar, and it most certainly is not Hazel and her brother’s responsibility either. Please make sure Ayalon doesn’t push them too hard, will you?”
“Yes, of course.” Faron looked to Hazel. “I’m happy to hear we share the same Cineál.”
Zofia said, “I suppose you’re here to steal her away. I’ll let you go, Hazel.” She went to Hazel and hugged her tight. “Come by anytime you need to.” The warmth she offered touched Hazel.
Faron led her out of the courtyard to a pair of horses that they rode to the armory. They walked toward one of the large circular rings surrounded by stone railing. There were thick wooden posts planted near the edge of the ring. They were each about the size of a man, gnarled with cut marks and chips.
When they reached the ring, Cameron and a young woman were exiting the armory. She spoke with Cameron, and he expressed skepticism and oversight as usual. Hazel was already self-conscious enough without Cameron criticizing her apparel. Worse, he expected her to sit and stay docile, even after all that she had been through following him to the village. It seemed he hardly knew her when he was like that.
His trainer, Alviva, seemed like just the right person to deal with him.
After they parted ways with Cameron and Alviva, Faron led Hazel to the armory. Countless weapons hung from the walls and racks. Fergus would die happy in that room. Hazel had to bring him here eventually. She made a point to remember it. “Are all of your weapons kept here?”
“Most are... Laochra are permitted to keep their own weapons, but any that are provided to them are kept here.”
The weapons were in immaculate condition. “Are they cured?”
“Not these ones, but we do take special measures to ensure they are preserved. The cured weapons are stored separately.” He gestured to a closed door. He retrieved a pair of wooden swords. They were shorter than she would have expected, not like the military sabers she was used to. “We’ll start with these batons. They won’t cut you, but they’re heavy. They can leave a nasty welt, so don’t be fooled into thinking you can be careless with them.”
Hazel accepted one of the batons and followed Faron out to the ring. Faron took off his coat and laid it over the stone railing. Hazel followed suit.
“You need to take this training seriously. I don’t mean to frighten you, but the truth is you are in danger. As Pishyakon, there’s a good chance you’ll be quick with a melee weapon. I want you to focus your efforts on learning to defend yourself with a blade.”
Hazel nodded. She was excited by the notion of fending off a foe.
“Some instructors like to break down every stance, every stroke. I prefer leaving it to common sense. I don’t mean to imply it won’t take practice, but I think it’s better to start by keeping just a few of the most important things in mind. First, your stance.” He walked over to Hazel and kicked one of her feet forward. “You’re always more stable with one foot in front of the other, when you swing your sword, whether it is a block or an attack, the force will start at your feet. They need to be firmly planted. That’s not to say you should stand still, but at the instant that you swing your blade, they should be rooted.”
Faron touched his baton to her midsection. “The power will then come from here.” He touched the baton to her lower back. “And here.” He held out his baton. “Swing your baton at mine. Just kee
p your feet firm and start the motion where I pointed, and make sure to lock your wrist.”
Hazel focused on twisting her body to swing the baton and struck Faron’s with a loud crack.
“Excellent, do that every time.” Faron continued instructing her on the essentials. He told her where to move and when, then went over a few fundamental parries. She practiced the motions with him, repeating the movements over and over again for a solid hour.
She took a short break and Faron said, “These basic parries can be used against any attack you’ll encounter... knowing them is one thing, deciding which to use in combat is another. Now, I want you to practice using the parries I just showed you against my strikes. Are you ready?
Hazel was already fatigued but nodded anyway.
Faron immediately swung his baton to her side with more force than she was expecting. She brought hers up to meet his. The wood made contact with a loud crack and her baton was thrown out of her hand. She winced at the pain in her wrist and grabbed it.
“Are you okay?” asked Faron as he came to her side and put an arm around her.
She nodded yes as the pain subsided, though she was not confident.
He lifted her arm. “Move your fist like this,” he said showing her his fist as he moved it around in a circle.
She did as he said, and though it was a bit tender, there was no sharp pain.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s okay.”
He grasped her fist firmly and said, “Lock your wrist. I shouldn’t be able to move your hand.”
She flexed her forearm and held her fist steady as he applied pressure.
“Good, your wrist needs to be that steady before your weapon strikes anything.”
She nodded.
“Let’s try again.” He picked up her sword and handed it to her.
Hazel was caught off guard when he swung his baton at her from the opposite direction, but she remembered what he told her. She reacted and met the sword. This time it stayed in place.
“Perfect,” said Faron.
Hazel smiled proudly.
“Faster this time,” he said before swinging the baton again.
Hazel barely blocked the blow.
“Good, let’s have a quick spar.”
Hazel thought they were already doing that.
“Ready?”
Hazel set herself in a stance like he had shown her, then nodded.
Faron came at her with a blow. As soon as she blocked it, he swung again. She reacted, surprising herself as she blocked his blows again and again until he struck her baton from her hand. Her wrist ached again but not as badly as the last time. She went to pick up her baton.
“You’re fast, but you need a more stability in your feet and your wrist. Come here.” He walked over to one of the large wooden poles planted at the perimeter of the ring. “An attack and a parry are not so different, one just initiates the other. I want you to strike this pell in the same ways you would parry. Go through all of the parries I showed you. Focus on keeping your stance and grip firm.”
Hazel did as she was told. Each strike on the pell jarred her, reminding her to focus on her grip. She continued swinging at the pell, growing more tired with every blow. She could feel herself softening.
“Don’t forget about your stance.”
She continued there under Faron’s supervision until a voice shouted out, “On the pell already?”
Hazel turned and saw Bjarke with a big smile. Behind him stood a stoutly built girl with short hair and three young men.
Bjarke continued, “Faron had me dancing around on my feet for weeks before I got to swing a sword.”
“Her footwork is much better than yours was,” replied Faron.
Bjarke laughed and shrugged it off. “Makes sense. I heard she’s Pishyakon.”
The girl beside him remarked, “Really? It’s been awhile since we had a new one and a lass, that’s great news!” She approached Hazel and extended a hand. “I’m Uschi, great to meet you.”
Hazel smiled. “Thank you. I’m Hazel.”
The youngest boy followed after her. “Coinín.”
Uschi looked back to the two young men behind Bjarke. “Where are your manners! Introduce yourselves!” They obliged. Ulric and Tod were there names. Hazel recognized the exaggerated disinterest the two of them exuded, the same that she had seen in entitled boys in Leicester. “Well, we’ll get it to it then, we’ll see you around I’m sure!” said Uschi. The group of them went into the armory.
Faron said, “I think that’s enough for today. We’ll meet here again tomorrow.” He went over to their coats and picked them up off the stone.
“Are they about to spar?” She looked to the armory.
“Should be.”
“Can we stay and watch?”
Faron pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and checked the time. “We’ve got a bit of time.” They sat on the railing and watched as the group came from the armory and prepared.
Bjarke and Uschi stretched while Ulric and Tod put on heavy leather jerkins and wooden helmets with grated masks. Coinín went to one of the pells and set to striking it.
Ulric and Tod drew their swords and assumed fighting stances. Ulric made the first move and a flurry of vicious blows ensued, metal clashing on metal, until Ulric landed a thrust on Tod’s shoulder.
“Are those real swords?” Hazel asked Faron.
“They’re rebated. The edges and tips are blunted, but they can still open flesh, hence the protection.”
Ulric and Tod continued sparring, displaying incredible athleticism and finesse with every stroke.
Faron said, “They’re two of our best young swordsmen, though they’re not as good as they think. They would benefit from a lapse in confidence once in a while.”
Bjarke and Uschi faced one another and crouched low as if they were going to engage one another. Hazel was shocked when she saw the two clash, grappling with one another. It seemed impossible for Uschi to have a chance against Bjarke who towered over her.
Hazel underestimated her. She swept Bjarke’s leg from underneath him and sat on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground, her face hovering over his. Bjarke stole a kiss.
Hazel continued watching the young Laochra in the ring until she heard a yowl.
Ollie dashed into the ring, behind him, a wolf in pursuit.
“Oi!” Hazel cried.
Both animals came to a halt and looked to Hazel. Ollie raced over to her and stood at her feet as the wolf trotted over casually, his tail wagging behind him. He seemed to recognized her. His tail wagged more forcefully, and he jumped up to lick her face. She realized he was young, like the wolf she had followed to the village walls. Ollie grumbled at the wolf’s presence and went over to Faron.
“He won’t hurt your cat,” said Coinín.
“Is he yours?” asked Hazel.
Coinín looked toward Ulric and replied, “Ralf’s ours actually. Ulric and I are brothers.”
“I think I saw him on my first night here at the village.”
Coinín replied, “There are others on the estate... could have been one of them.”
Hazel was sure it was him as she watched him rolling on the ground. He was the wiggliest canine she had ever seen. She said to Faron, “I didn’t know there were still wolves in England.”
“There aren’t any outside of this forest. They’ve been hunted to extinction. There are other animals on the estate that you won’t find in the rest of England.” He nodded toward Bjarke and Uschi. “Bears and wolverines for example.”
“There are bears here!” exclaimed Hazel.
“Aye. I’m sure you’ll have the chance to meet one soon.”
Hazel couldn’t wait. “Bjarke!” she shouted.
He stopped and turned toward Hazel, who was running toward him. “You’re Cineál, Faron’s told me it’s a bear. Are there any nearby? Could I see one?”
Bjarke smiled. “Hold on.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. “
You’re in luck.”
A moment later, Hazel heard something heavy beating the ground and crushing the fallen leaves. She looked through the trees and spotted a brown ball of fur barreling toward the ring. The massive bear ran straight for Bjarke and tackled him to the ground. He smothered Bjarke as he rubbed his face and neck against him.
Hazel had never seen anything like it. “He’s enormous!”
“He’s still growing, actually.” He spoke to the bear as he wrestled him. “Orson, say hello to Hazel, gently please.”
Orson lumbered over to Hazel and stood up on his back legs, towering over her. Hazel was frightened for a split second until she saw the bear extend an arm as if he intended to shake her hand. Hazel extended her hand and laughed as he shook it. Orson sat back down and Ralf assaulted him with affection, burying his pointy nose into the bear’s fur. Orson waited patiently at the barrage.
Hazel noticed something darting over to Uschi. It jumped up into her arms. A wolverine. It looked like a small bear crossed with a weasel. Judging by its disproportionately large paws and the claws protruding from them, it was much more dangerous than any ferret.
Uschi walked over to Hazel as she cradled it. “She’s a bit shy. Go on and hold out your hand for her.”
Hazel held her hand out and the wolverine sniffed Hazel’s hand timidly and gave her a small lick.
“Since we’re giving introductions...” said Faron as he pointed at a tree.
Hazel looked where he was pointing and spotted a massive feline, his fur was tan with dark spots. Tufts of hair came to a point at his ears and neck. He ran down the trunk, then took his time as he walked over to Hazel and Faron. He hopped up onto the stone railing and looked straight at Hazel.
“He normally keeps to himself. I think he’s interested in you.”
Hazel looked to Faron. “May I pet him?”
“Of course.”
Hazel approached him and gently placed a hand behind his ear. He pressed his head up into Hazel’s hand with a deep purr. “He’s a lynx, isn’t he?”
Faron smiled and nodded. “They’re solitary... even here in Talamh, just a handful of them. I only get to see him when he feels like it.” He walked over and stroked the lynx’s back.