Hanna Halfblood: A YA fantasy tale

by Robyn Wideman

  “Perhaps. Time will tell. However, once you start to explore your magic and learn to harness it I suspect that things will change. Now go do your run and we’ll get started.”

  When Anso had been her trainer in Irontide, Hanna had to run every day. Not that she minded; the running had become a good way of clearing her mind and preparing her for the long, challenging days of training that Anso gave her. “Where should I run?” asked Hanna. In Irontide, they had created a circuit for her to run from her parent’s cottage through the woods and back again.

  “There is a path heading east, follow it until it forks. Take the right-hand trail.”

  Hanna stretched and put on her shoes. She stepped outside and glanced around until she spotted the trail. Starting at a slow jog, Hanna moved through the forest that surrounded Anso’s cottage. The woods here were different than those in Solotine. The trees in Creyta were bigger, but there were fewer of them. Instead of many trees the woods were filled with thick bushes that grew to eight feet tall. The bushes were thick with berries and thorns. From her early childhood visits, Hanna knew that the prickly thorns were much safer than the berries on most of the bushes. For every edible berry in Creyta there were three that were poisonous. Some were mildly poisonous, and could be eaten at the risk of heartburn and an upset stomach and a healthy case of the runs, while others were so poisonous that just a handful could be fatal if eaten.

  As Hanna went she started to pick up speed. She had always enjoyed running but it wasn’t something a sailor got to indulge in. While she ran, Hanna’s mind went back to Solotine. How was her mother doing? Would any of their trading partners balk at having a woman in charge of the company? Would the Foxnoses keep their promises? What would Biran Nordvik be doing right now? The attractive young northerner had been seeping into her thoughts lately.

  At first, she’d thought him an arrogant snob, the rich son of the village leader. Yet, as she got to know him she grew to understand the fine clothes, so out of place in the valley of Ayrith, were a tool used in Grimsfell, along with the snobby attitude, to get better terms from the city’s traders. And as she spent more time with Biran, he relaxed and his true personality started to come out. He was a nice fellow and despite being almost as young as Hanna was taking over much of his sick father’s duties running the village. She looked forward to visiting the Ayrith village again.

  The trail weaved through the woods, and went up into a small series of steep hills that made her legs burn as she powered her way up the short inclines. The trail then made its way back to Anso’s cottage in the woods. By the time that she was done she had a good sweat going. It had been too long since her last run and her body was not used to the vigorous exercise.

  Anso laughed at her as she leaned over holding her side. “Too much sailing?”

  Hanna groaned and nodded. “Too much sailing.” She loved the sea and her crew, but it certainly had affected her ability to run. She would have to make sure that in the future she spent more time running when on shore. It was still uncertain how she would be best served spending her time now that grandfather was gone. Where would her mother need her the most?

  “Stretch,” instructed Anso, signaling that her allowed recovery time was up.

  Hanna automatically began her stretching routine that he’d taught her long ago. Anso required that any warriors he taught be well-conditioned and flexible. His logic was that there was always going to be someone stronger or faster, but endurance and the ability to move in ways your opponent couldn’t, would defeat a stronger or faster opponent if they had the same skill level. Fatigue and sloppy form were a warrior’s worst enemies. As Hanna finished her stretches she noticed that Anso had brought out her grandfather’s axe and shield. The axe, made of northern steel, or black steel as it was called in places outside of Solotine for its dark color, was a fine weapon, double-bladed and with a long handle that gave the weapon versatility. It was good in close and could be used for powerful attacks. The shield was metal reinforced witch wood. Witch oak was the hardest and most durable wood available. Hanna picked up the weapons and moved them around, trying to get a feel for them. The axe felt surprising light in her hand. She’d trained with axes before, but never as a one-handed weapon.

  Anso noted the way Hanna looked at the axe. “Feels lighter than the last time we trained with axes, doesn’t it? You’ve grown since then. Glaive training has given you strength.”

  Hanna couldn't argue with glaive training building up her muscles, although she wasn't sure that was the only thing different, but she ignored the feeling and tried to remember the different poses Anso had taught her with the axe.

  “Much of the training we focused on before was speed. Your eagle’s claw weapons are small and more offensive in nature. Obviously, a shield is much more defensive in nature, but it can be a powerful offensive weapon as well.”

  Hanna knew first-hand how effective a shield and sword combo could be. Many of the Lady’s crew used a shield and sword combination. It was vital in any battle with archers involved; it just hadn’t been her role. Anso and her father had taught her the short blades to take advantage of her speed.

  As if reading her thoughts, Anso continued. “Many of your crewmen use shields; they act as a team. However, the way your grandfather fought was slightly different. Solotine warriors aren’t as well coordinated at fighting together, but their attacks and defense are just as solid as any Creytan warrior. You don’t have your grandfather’s strength, but you are quicker and plenty strong enough now to learn.”

  Anso then spent the rest of the day drilling Hanna on the basics. They worked on blocking, bashing and quick strikes. It was repetitive and simple, but Hanna knew to master any skill, she needed to be able to do the basics without thinking. However, she couldn’t help but feel frustrated; she wanted to show her old trainer how much she’d learned since they last trained together; how much her skills had improved. Yet she felt like a beginner all over again. The axe, despite feeling lighter, was still cumbersome and awkward, especially when trying to keep her shield properly positioned. Even her footwork felt wrong. It was frustrating beyond belief.

  …

  “That is enough for now,” said Anso when the sun started to dip over the trees.

  Exhausted, Hanna gratefully put down her weapons. Her arms were so tired.

  “Come, we’ll eat dinner in the city tonight. There is someone I want you to meet.”

  Hanna took shield and axe into the cottage and grabbed her knives. She was thankful to have her old weapons in her hands again. The axe and shield made her feel unsure. She would not want to meet anyone in battle with those weapons. She wondered how long it would take before she started to improve. She only had a few weeks until her ship returned and she left Creyta. Would it be long enough?

  Centa was a port city, and while not as rough and dangerous as other port cities she’d been to, it was not a place to travel empty handed. On the other hand, she was traveling with a master fighting trainer. As they walked, Hanna broached a subject she’d been ignoring for some time now. “No word on my father?”

  “No, I haven’t heard anything yet. Unfortunately, that is the way of the sea. Some are lost to us without ever knowing why.”

  Hanna sighed. It had been years since her father disappeared. He’d been on a special mission for the King of Creyta, sailing to a faraway land. Their ship, and its crew, was never seen again. The worst part for Hanna had been the not knowing and the waiting. Due to the secretive nature of his mission, Hanna and her mother never knew when to expect him back. Weeks of patiently waiting turned into months of nervous anticipation and years of holding out hope while fearing to grieve. Hanna knew her mother had never been the same. They walked the rest of the way to the small pub in silence, Hanna deep in thought about her father and Anso willing to let silence guide them.

  The Drunken Dwarf was a small pub on the outskirts of the city. Being the farthest pub away from the docks as you could find in Centa, it catered mostly
to locals. Hanna’s stomach growled as they entered and the aroma of roasted chicken reminded her of the fact they’d only stopped training for a single mid-morning meal. She followed Anso to a table where an elderly woman with long white hair sat drinking from a mug that looked impossibly large compared to her petite body.

  “Hanna Halfblood, meet Zeka Zafar,” said Anso.

  Zeka took another healthy swig from her oversized mug and motioned for them to sit at the table with her. Zeka then eyed Hanna up. “Merdem’s daughter?”

  “You knew my father?” asked Hanna.

  Zeka gulped down more of her ale. “Since he was knee high. A wild one, young Merdem was. You have the same look to you.”

  Hanna smiled. It was not the first time she’d heard that.

  “Zeka, look at her necklace,” said Anso.

  Zeka belched and took another sip. “You think I’m blind, Anso? I noticed the stone the second you two walked in. Winter’s tit, I could be blind and still notice the magic coming off that amulet. Give us a look,” said Zeka as she reached out her hand.

  Hanna took off the necklace and handed it to Zeka.

  Zeka smiled as she rubbed the stone. “Been a while since I held a bloodstone. Who gave it to you? Not your father, was it?”

  “No,” said Hanna. “My grandfather was attacked in the mountains by a Mykoznian King’s Guard. His dying request was that I have the gem. The assassin brought it to me. She said he’d covered it in his blood before dying.”

  “Mykoznian King’s Guard, you say? Interesting, but unlikely. An active member of the King’s Guard would never leave the king’s side. An ex-member of the King’s Guard is more likely. But that is beside the point. Your grandfather must have recognized what the stone was. His blood provided a link to the stone. How long have you had the stone now?”

  “A couple of weeks,” said Hanna.

  Zeka rubbed a bit of ale foam from her chin and nodded knowingly. “Have you started having dreams of him yet?”

  “Yes!” said Hanna, excited that Zeka seemed to know what was going on with her. Perhaps the old woman would have a better answer to what was happening than Anso had provided.

  “What does your grandfather tell you?” asked Zeka.

  “I don’t know. I can hear him talking but it sounds garbled.”

  Zeka turned to Anso. “What in the seven hells have you been teaching this one?”

  “Weapons mostly,” admitted Anso. “I’ve taught some basic meditation and breathing, but I was very limited to what I could do in Solotine. You know how they are regarding magic.”

  Zeka grunted in disgust. “A bloody waste. Who knows how many magic bloodlines are going to waste in that damned place.” She handed Hanna back the necklace. “You can’t hear your grandfather because your magic is weak. It was strong enough to activate the gemstone. I can feel the difference between when you are touching it and not, but you are not yet strong enough to use it.”

  Hanna frowned. “Is there nothing I can do?”

  “Beside spend years properly learning how to use magic? Usually I would say no. However, you are a special case. You have strong magic bloodlines; that much is obvious, but your magic had never been used. We need to get it flowing.”

  “How do we do that?” asked Hanna.

  Zeka looked over at Anso. “Did you bring herbs, or were you expecting me to go looking for them and interrupt my evening of drinking?”

  “I brought them,” said Anso.

  Zeka pointed to the bartender. She put up three fingers, indicating he should bring them a round of drinks. When the man put them on the table Zeka spoke. “Keep them coming, Rannib, we are doing some serious drinking tonight.”

  Rannib chuckled, “When are you not serious about your drinking?”

  Hanna watched as Zeka grinned at the bartender. Her smile was marred by missing teeth and others that were black with rot. Hanna wondered just how old Zeka was.

  Anso poured a small bit of powder into Hanna’s drink. She eyed it suspiciously.

  “What is it?” asked Hanna.

  “You don’t want to know,” said Anso. “But between the ale and the powder you are going to be drunker than you ever imagined. Bottoms up!”

  Hanna often joined the crew in celebration at the end of safe voyages, and ale was a regular occurrence with meals, but other than one time where she’d ended up projectile vomiting her dinner after too many ales she wasn’t one to get drunk. She wasn’t sure how this was going to help with magic, but she trusted Anso. “Bottoms up,” she replied before taking a mouthful of the ale. The ale, mixed with herbs, had a slight raspberry and cinnamon smell and flavor to it. Not what she would want to drink on a regular basis, but not unpleasant.

  Rannib followed Zeka’s instructions carefully. Every time Hanna’s mug was empty another took its place. And for every mug Hanna drank Zeka drank two, but the old woman never seemed to get more intoxicated. She burped and belched more but her eyes stayed clear and her voice rang true. Hanna on the other hand had a warm feeling in her belly and was starting to see double of everything. She laughed and giggled as she tried unsuccessfully to touch her finger to her nose.

  “We’d best get her back to your place soon,” said Zeka. “She’ll be in the dream world soon enough. It will be easier to move her now.”

  Anso nodded and motioned for Rannib.

  Rannib returned to the table. “Yes, Anso?”

  “I need to borrow your wagon. This one isn’t going to be able to walk home.”

  “I figured that about three ales ago,” said Rannib. “Anyone trying to keep up with Zeka is likely to fail. I’ve already had the horses bridled. The wagon is ready to go when you are.”

  “You think it will work?” asked Anso.

  Zeka burped before giving her reply. “She has strong magic, I can sense it, and the connection is there. She should’ve had years of magical training. Spirit magic is not for everyone. Who knows what will happen tonight.”

  “What’s done is done. Now all we can do is to make sure she survives.” Anso, with Rannib’s help, escorted a wobbly and oblivious Hanna out to the wagon.

  …

  As Hanna walked through the forest, a soft, white, thick fog started to flow into the meadow. She moved forward. Tonight her dream seemed more intense, the colors more vivid. She felt like she could reach out and touch the fog.

  Thorodd walked up to her as he had in every dream. He smiled at her. “Hello, Hanna.”

  Surprised that she could hear him, Hanna stuttered. “Hello, Grandfather.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you would ever hear me,” said Thorodd. “The spirit connection doesn’t work for everyone.”

  “Why are we connected? Why did you make the bloodstone?” asked Hanna.

  “It was all I had left to give you. I’ve tried to give you wisdom and guidance as you grew into a young warrior, but my time was up. The bloodstone allows me to continue to watch over you.”

  “What’s it like, the spirit world?” asked Hanna.

  Thorodd smiled. “It is different. I’m among my people, I have no complaints. I lived a long and full life.”

  “My father, is he there with you?” asked Hanna.

  “I have not seen him. I know not of where he rests, in the spirit world or not.”

  Hanna’s shoulders slumped slightly as she let out a deep breath. She hadn’t expected her grandfather to have a definitive answer about what happened to her father, yet she still couldn’t help but be disappointed to not know anything. “Are you going to visit my dreams all the time?” asked Hanna.

  Thorodd shook his head. “No, now that your magic is flowing you will be able to control when you open yourself up to the stone’s magic. I will always be watching, but I won’t always be available. There is much for me to do here in the beyond.”

  “Do you know who was behind your killing? Do you know why the girl attacked you?”

  “The stones. I didn’t know what they were when I first saw them, but once I tou
ched one I understood there was something special about them. I took them to a mage I knew, Amaden Blugroson. He recognized the gems for what they were. He knew my magic wasn’t strong enough to use the stones on my own, but you are a different story. Whoever hired the young woman who killed me wants the stones for themselves. I don’t know if they killed me to stop me from using the gems or so they could control the gems. That is something you must figure out.”

  “Why would they want to stop you from using the gems?” asked Hanna.

  “Spirit magic is very powerful. Those who control it become powerful, and if they have dark intentions the spirit stones allow a connection between all of the spirit realms.”

  Hanna frowned. All of the spirit realms? “They could speak to demons?”

  “Not only speak to them, but gain the power of demons. It would take a very powerful magic user to attempt such a bonding but the stones would allow demons to be bonded with almost anyone.”

  “Did our ancestors bond with demons?” asked Hanna.

  “Our ancestors bonded with souls from all realms, but rarely with demons. They connected with other spirits that lived in the seven hells, but I don’t think they were demons. I’ve still much to learn in the spirit world. Access to the beyond doesn’t come with unlimited knowledge. I am still learning of my new surroundings. But I can tell you this. As your magic grows in strength you will be able to create new stones. You must know the heart of the person you bond to the spirit world. This magic can corrupt a weak soul. Trust your heart and never take the decision to make a bloodstone lightly. It can be a great gift and a greater curse.”

  Hanna shuddered. The talk of demons and curses was frightening. But she knew enough of magic to understand what he meant. “I will do my best, Grandfather.”

  “I know you will. Take care, Hanna Halfblood.”

  “When will I see you again?” asked Hanna. “Will you be back tomorrow night?”

  “I will be back when you need me,” said Thorodd. He then turned and started to walk back into the fog.