by Devan Skyles
“Thanks, Liam,” he answered with a chuckle, “but I’m sure I can take care of myself. I’ll bet I take down even more grounders than you do.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll be on the front line. You’ll probably be assigned to more of the scouting flyovers.”
He secretly hoped he was right. Liam had been to the ground twice already and Auram found some comfort in his reassurances. They did usually send the smaller speed flyers on reconnaissance missions, as they were less likely to be shot down. And Auram was one of the fastest flyers they had. The only downside to this was that scouts were required to wear less armor (and sometimes none at all) to keep from slowing them down.
“You re-doing your longsword evaluation today?”
“I was thinking of switching to sword and shield.”
“Do that and they’ll definitely have you fighting on the ground,” Liam replied.
Auram swallowed hard and tried not to let his nerves show. They stopped talking as a Fleet officer stood before the formation and made some announcements Auram didn’t bother to listen to. Eventually, the troops were dismissed to their various training exercises and responsibilities. For Auram, this meant taking his sword evaluation every day until he passed.
He trudged over to the armory and checked out a set of training armor and a blunt sword. He swung the weapon in a few flourishes and attack-parry combinations on his way to the evaluation field. There, he checked in for his test and waited behind a line of recruits waiting to take their own assessments. He felt foolish testing with a bunch of new recruits, since he’d been there nearly a year longer than any of them and he still couldn’t conceptualize the maneuvers with the weapon. The biomechanics of the skill just didn’t come naturally to him, which frustrated him to no end, as he had a great many natural talents that were all second nature to him. Swordplay simply wasn’t one of them.
“Are you new, too?” one of the young recruits asked him. “How’s your over-under disengage? I’m still having trouble with the feint.”
Auram rolled his eyes in feigned superiority, but in reality, he was just embarrassed. He recognized the terms, but he had no idea what they meant. He watched as several of the recruits performed the basic qualifying maneuvers and defensive techniques required for the beginning Fleetmen, techniques he still had not mastered.
When it was his turn to test, he stepped into the sparring ring, expecting to see one of the usual instructors standing by to judge his performance. This time, however, there stood a tall woman he didn’t recognize. She looked about his age and, he thought, kind of cute. She had striking, violet eyes and feathers like he had never seen before. They were a bright, iridescent green, but they shone vibrant red at certain angles as the light shifted over them. She was lean and strong, with thick, black hair pulled back into a ponytail that just grazed her shoulders as she turned her head to address him.
“Recruit Second Class Auram?” She addressed him.
He cringed within as his meager rank was called. “That’s me, Sergeant.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” She pointed at a circle painted on the ground in front of her. “This isn’t your first time. You know the starting position.”
If any part of him had been attracted to this woman, he wasn’t now. Irritated, he ran and stood in the circle with his feet apart, the hilt of his weapon at the hip with the blade slanted forward. She had him demonstrate a few maneuvers, some of which he had to pause to remember. He did the best he could to execute them properly, but he could feel how awkward and unnatural the movements were.
The evaluator looked at him with a raised eyebrow for several seconds after he finished. “Who is your usual instructor?”
“Um, Sergeant Billit, Ma’am,” he replied awkwardly.
“He’s been teaching you wrong,” she stated bluntly. She put down her pen and paper and picked up a blunted longsword like his. Stepping into the sparring ring, she adopted the same starting position. “Do that last attack pattern again.”
“What, against you?”
“That’s right. Come on,” she replied impatiently.
Auram was unsure. She wasn’t wearing any protective equipment, not even a helmet. He didn’t want to hurt her. He performed the attack as instructed, but he did so slowly and carefully, so as not to injure her. In a heartbeat, she cast his sword to the side so swiftly it nearly flew from his hands and she brought her own weapon down across his head. The steel blade struck his helmet with such force that he stumbled sideways and his left ear started ringing.
“Is that how you’re going to attack the ground-dwellers?” she scolded, again standing at the ready. “Attack me!”
Auram hesitantly came to the starting guard position and visualized the attack. After a moment, he swung the weapon as hard as he could. Again, she caught his weapon with hers and retaliated with an attack to the other side of his helmet. Now both his ears were ringing.
“That was better,” she said, surprising him.
He removed his helmet in frustration. “It didn’t feel better.”
The woman took his helmet and tossed it onto the grass outside the ring. She then grabbed his sword near the point and manipulated it in his hands.
“Come to the starting guard,” she instructed, moving the weapon the way it should go. “Now, when you do that short edge strike, turn the grip in your hand and place your thumb on the flat of the blade. It’ll help your edge alignment tremendously. Got it?”
Auram nodded.
“Now, do the attack again,” she instructed, stepping back and standing ready with her weapon.
Auram, a little more confident this time, swung the sword the way she had shown. To his delight, the blade swung in a perfect arch exactly how he’d envisioned and connected deftly against the instructor’s blade, a bright spark flying from the steel.
“There it is!” The woman praised him loudly. “That’s what we’re looking for!”
Auram blushed (something he’d never done before), and practiced the movement in the air a couple more times. He was delighted, and for the first time in a long time, he thought he might have a chance at learning this.
“Now, we still have a lot of work to do,” she said, “so we’re not going to have you take the evaluations again for another week or so. During that time, you’ll be studying with me. Do you understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, a little too eagerly.
“Enough ma’am stuff,” she demanded. “You’re making me feel old. My name is Taya.”
“Are you new here?” he asked, realizing it was far too informal a question to ask his superior.
“I was transferred here last week. Now show me your number four attack combo.”
Number four. This was one he remembered well, but he could never seem to execute it properly. His right wing seemed to constantly be getting in the way. He did his best to demonstrate, but sure enough, the blade whipped right through his primary flight feathers. If it had been a sharpened weapon, he’d have sliced them clean off.
Taya shook her head in disapproval. “I’m going to kill Billit if that’s how he taught you to do it. First of all, swing the sword, not your arms. You’re giving away your intentions. Secondly, keep your wings back behind you. I know your instinct is to keep them prone for flight, but in a real fight, you’re not going to have time to fly away. The moment you start flapping instead of fighting, you’re dead. If you’re on the ground with the enemy, you need to fight on their terms. That’s why we try to stay in the air, but that’s not always possible.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get this,” he admitted in defeat.
“Of course you will! Now soldier up and do it again, Fleetman!”
He did it again, and again he hit his wing, this time striking the sensitive bone at the joint. He dropped his weapon in agony and defeat.
“And now you have only one wing,” she announced, “and you’re stuck on the ground with the enemy. Do it again.”
Frust
rated, he performed the maneuver again, this time only swiping the tip of his feathers, but overthinking it, he messed up his footwork.
“Do it again,” she ordered, “and keep your feet further apart. Bend your knees.”
Each and every time he got a little better, but he knew he’d never be ready to fight in just a few short weeks. And Sergeant Taya was being so curt and demanding that it only fueled his frustration. After fouling up his footwork for the twentieth time, he finally dropped his sword on the ground and walked to the edge of the ring. By this time, all the other recruits had finished their tests with other instructors and they were the only two left on the sparring field.
“I’m going to die down there!” he shouted in defeat.
“Maybe,” Taya said, surprisingly softly. “But then, isn’t that the chance we all took when we joined the Fleet? We joined to serve and protect our people, right? Sometimes that service demands that we give our lives. But don’t worry, recruit. I’m going to make sure you have all the skills necessary to fight and stay alive.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” he huffed. “You’re an expert.”
“I wasn’t always,” she laughed. “I used to be so bad, my unit assigned me to permanent cooking duty. After two months of that, I finally decided I wanted to do more for my people than scrubbing pots and pans and scooping heat stones. So from then on, I spent every spare minute with a sword in my hands, until finally, I was able to beat all my superiors and they reassigned me as in instructor.”
“So, is that all you do now? Teach swordplay?”
“Of course not!” she retorted. “I’ve been to the ground a few times, and I lead ilïmbalm retrievals on the other side. Got my own timekeeper and everything.” She pulled the timepiece out and showed it to him.
“Wow! That’s impressive,” Auram replied, feeling suddenly inadequate next to Taya. It was strange. She was roughly his age, but she was already so much more accomplished than he was. It was something that had never bothered him before.
“Thanks. So, we’ll stop here for today, but I want to see you again tomorrow after your duties, and I want to see that you’ve been practicing.”
“Yes, ma— I mean, Taya.”
Auram was so tired from the rigorous training that he guzzled down his ilïmbalm before even touching his meal. Some of the strength returned to his limbs, and the soreness in his wing eased a bit. He flew up to the top of the Fleet headquarters building to eat. It was his usual spot. Liam was already there, eating his own meal.
“How’d the test go?” Liam inquired through a mouthful of food.
“I uh— I didn’t take it. But I’m going to be practicing with Sergeant Taya for the next week.”
“Seriously? Lucky guy! I wouldn’t mind having a few private lessons with her myself! Maybe I should fail my next evaluation!”
Auram felt a little slighted by his last remark, but he brushed it off and took a bite of his food.
“I guess,” he replied.
“What, are you telling me you don’t think she’s pretty?”
“She’s great, I guess,” he replied with a shrug, “if you like the pushy, bossy type.”
“Hey, she can push me around any time she likes!”
Auram laughed and continued eating. He then remembered what he and Rhydian had discussed the previous night.
“Hey, Liam, do you know how to request a special detail?”
“What, like ilïmbalm missions or something?”
“Something like that,” he replied vaguely.
Liam shrugged. “I guess you’d have to go to the platoon commander and ask him. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
He finished his lunch and soared down to the ledge in front of the officers’ lounge. It was typically where the higher-ups ate their lunches. He was sure he’d find the platoon commander there. Opening the door, he peered in discreetly. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t allowed inside, so he quietly stepped one foot through the doorway and looked around. There was comfortable seating all around the room and exercise equipment in one corner. At the end of the room was a bar with various foods and treats, and even a fountain flowing with rich, red ilïmbalm. Several officers sat relaxing and socializing. The platoon commander, however, was nowhere in sight.
As he turned to leave, he heard a voice call after him.
“Mr. Auram, isn’t it?”
Auram turned back and saw a smiling General Corvus. He instantly came to a stiff position of attention and saluted the General.
“Oh, none of that in here, recruit,” Corvus replied. “You’re good friends with Gideonson, right?”
“Y-yes, Sir,” he stammered, awkwardly relaxing a bit.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, son! Come on in.”
He stepped the rest of the way in and approached Corvus.
“What can I help you with, recruit?” he indicated a seat next to him at the bar table, which Auram took.
“Well, sir, I was looking for my platoon commander. But he doesn’t appear to be here.”
“I think there’s a very simple solution to that problem,” he replied with a little laugh. “See, I don’t know if you know this, but I actually outrank your platoon commander. Maybe I can help.”
“I’m sure you have more important things to do, Commander.”
“Nothing is more important than my troops,” he replied fervently. “My fellow soldiers are my family. And, son, I respect people like you.”
Auram was taken aback. He didn’t realize General Corvus knew who he was, let alone respected him. “Why is that, sir?”
“Because, I know you come from a wealthy family. You could have had anything you wanted. You could have continued in the family tradition, but you gave it all up to serve your people; to fight in the war. That takes courage, son. And I respect that.”
Auram became a bit uncomfortable with the mention of his family. They hadn’t exactly supported his decision to join the Fleet, and now that he realized he wasn’t much of a fighter, he almost wished he could take it all back and re-join the family business. The problem was, even if they would accept him back, he wasn’t sure he could face them now. And if he did, he’d never have the adventure he craved so desperately.
“Your parents must be very proud of you,” Corvus continued.
“Actually, sir, I haven’t spoken to my family since I joined,” he admitted.
The general frowned and nodded his head sympathetically. “That must be rough. But always know that you have a family with the Fleet. So, if ever you need anything, just ask.”
“Actually, sir,” he began, “there is one thing… Um, I was sort of wondering if Governor Redwing needed anyone for his security detail.”
Corvus eyed him and sat back in his seat, settling his wings a bit. “This wouldn’t be an attempt to get out of deployment, would it? Because that’s not an option for any of my soldiers.”
“Oh, no, sir! I just—” he had to think on his feet. “I’ve developed an interest in politics, and I thought it might be a good opportunity to learn from someone so accomplished.”
Corvus rubbed his chin and pondered the proposition. “Redwing has had quite a few of his detail request transfers elsewhere. Don’t think they like him much. Can’t say I blame them.” He chuckled a bit. “I suppose we could arrange something. I’ll speak with your commander and see that it happens.”
“Thank you, sir! I really appreciate it!”
“Oh, and Auram,” he added before he could leave. “Tell your friend his commission is waiting for him whenever he wants it. I can arrange for you to be assigned under him if you want to work together.”
His commission? Rhydian was offered an officer’s commission and he didn’t tell him?
“I will,” he promised.
The next morning, Auram fell into formation with the rest of the company. When the platoon commander stood in front of the formation, he called out Auram by name.
“You are to report to Governor
Redwing’s office fully armed,” the officer ordered. “You will be assigned to his guard until further notice.”
Auram was relieved that he would not have to do ground training for a while. He would, however, have to spend extra time after work training with Taya.
He flew immediately to his living quarters, put on his sword and armor, and took off again. Redwing’s office would be somewhere in the city council chambers, just a few levels below the Fleet complex.
He had to flap harder to stay aloft with the weight of his armor. He would never have admitted it to him, but he knew Rhydian wouldn’t have as much trouble carrying the load. Even with it, though, Auram knew he was the faster of the two.
He alighted on the spacious ledge before the city council chambers. Unlike most of the city, this structure was constructed with red stone. Great pillars lined the vast, open hall that expanded deep into the cliffside. The inside was so spacious that Ilimíri flying near the top looked like sparrows flitting from one roost to the next. In reality, he knew they were flying to and from various offices on every level of the cavern, fulfilling whatever official, administrative tasks they had to complete.
He found Governor Redwing’s name on a directory and made his way to his office near the back of the hall. It was so far in that it was almost dark, but light stones hung from sconces between each door. He found the right door at the very top level, where he landed and knocked.
The door swiftly opened, and behind it stood a soldier with a hand on the hilt of his sword, as if he was ready for trouble. He glanced at the rank insignia on Auram’s sleeve.
“Can I help you, Recruit?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “My name is Auram. I was told to report here.”
The man’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “You the one who volunteered?”
Auram smirked. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret it?”
He glanced over his shoulder cautiously and lowered his voice to a murmur. “Your funeral.”
He let Auram pass and instructed him to wait in the lobby area while he informed the governor of his arrival. He disappeared around a red stone wall, and a moment later he returned with another soldier (this one visually disgruntled) and Redwing himself. Redwing approached Auram, his wings held high in a haughty air of self-importance.