I miss you too, he heard the jewel’s voice.
Leave him be; you’re still one of us, still with us, still ready to help him, another jewel replied.
“That’s unbelievable – and her loss!” Deana said. “Well, welcome home. Come in and relax. I’m so glad you’re back. Garrel will be delighted. A person from the palace came by yesterday and tried to tell us that you were leaving, but Garrel kicked him out!” she laughed.
“I am leaving,” he said heavily. “The wizard has moved me into his part of the palace. I came by to give you this money, so that you can afford the rent here,” he handed over the leather pouch.
She accepted the money with a dazed look on her face. “You’re really moving into the palace? You and Ariana are both leaving us?
“I always thought that you were going to be married someday, just like we were,” Deana’s eyes were filling with tears. “I’ll be lonely without you here.”
Grange sat down in a chair at the table, as Deana sat down too, and he listened to her talk about the hopes she had for the future of the friends together in the city.
“Will you be able to come visit us?” she asked after her rambling conversation wore down.
“I should be able to. And I still get to leave the palace to play with Guy’s band, if he’ll still have me,” Grange added.
“Of course he’ll have you; all the girls swooned over you,” Deana smiled at him. “And your music is wonderful.”
“I’m glad we’ll be able to see you,” she said.
Grange stood up. “I need to go find Guy to see if I can still play.
“I’ll see you soon, I hope,” he gave the girl from the mountain village a parting hug. “Tell Garrel I missed seeing him.”
“Someone will come by to gather my things, I imagine,” he added, then left the apartment.
He hoped they would come to see him play with Guy. Garrel was the closest thing he had to a family member; his friend was the only person who was tied to his old life in Fortune and his new life in Palmland. Garrel had been the person he had listened to before Ariana had taken over, he realized, and he felt a renewed sense of loneliness from the loss of his ties to both advisors.
He strolled through the town to Guy’s studio, where he was admitted to see the band master as he practiced.
“What did the bird leave on the sill today?” Guy asked. “Where have you been?”
“I went to the palace, and the wizard asked me to live in his compound,” Grange said.
“You’re the personal musician to the palace wizard?” Guy asked in astonishment.
“I, yes,” Grange decided to accept Guy’s interpretation as the story he would share with the band. It would be easier to explain than to say he was an apprentice wizard, he decided.
“Are you leaving the band then?” Guy asked.
“I asked the wizard if I could continue to play with your band, and he said I could,” Grange explained.
“When can you join us? Will you be able to play every night?” Guy asked skeptically.
“I can play again tonight. I may not play every night, but I will play as many as I’m allowed,” Grange pushed to be accepted back into the band.
“Very well, we’ll see what you can do. You won’t be paid for days you don’t play, and if you miss too many, I’ll have to let you go.
“We’re playing tonight at the Temple of Acton,” Guy said.
“The god of war? Is Palmland going to go to war with someone?” Grange asked, remembering the conversation from earlier, at the palace.
“Skote is making belligerent noises, but we’re mostly surrounded by wilderness. The only country we have an actual border with is Reapose, and I don’t think we’ll fight with them,” Guy dismissed the question. “It’s just the place we’re going to perform. We’ll play a couple of martial marches at the beginning to satisfy the temple, then we’ll make the crowd happy.
“They’ll be glad to hear your flute again,” he admitted.
Grange thanked him, then left the studio and started walking through the city. It was only mid-afternoon, and he was completely free from any duties, other than playing music that night.
He felt aimless, he realized. He wanted to do something productive, something that would satisfy Ariana that he was a responsible person now.
That meant either practicing swimming, or practicing his sword work, he concluded. And he suddenly felt emboldened to try to practice in the palace armory. He’d see if there were any repercussions from his scuffle with Cale in the morning, and he’d find out how good he was compared to the standards of the palace forces; he wasn’t going to judge them by Cale’s failure alone.
His pass card from Brieed provided easy and immediate entrance to the palace grounds, and a request for directions sent him to the armory.
The armory was a large, limestone building, with columns and adornments on its exterior that made it look more like a temple than a place of weapon storage and battle practice. As soon as he walked inside though, Grange smelled the familiar odors of countless hours of men and women working and sweating in endless battle – sweat and blood were the natural elements of the building, he could tell.
Grange saw a man at a desk and walked over, presenting the card from Brieed to demonstrate his right to be in the building.
“I’d like to start practicing here,” he told the man, who looked up wordlessly, expecting some command or request.
The man squinted one eye.
“Practice what? Magic?” the low-ranking officer asked.
“Sword work,” Grange answered. He patted the weapon on his hip.
“A wizard? Swords? That doesn’t make any sense,” the man objected.
“Here now lieutenant, I’ll handle this,” a voice called from behind Grange.
Both Grange and the officer at the desk turned to see a slightly bow-legged man striding towards them. The face was familiar, and after a moment’s recollection, Grange gasped.
“This morning,” he snapped his fingers at the man.
“That’s’ right – I saved your backside this morning. Not that I have any love for you, but I believe in honorable behavior. I’ll tell you, Cale has been demoted from the cavalry for his tussle with you this morning, and I don’t blame you at all,” the man was garrulous.
He was built relatively short, and slightly stocky, almost pudgy. There was something about him that Grange sensed he was missing, but the answer remained unknown.
“It’s good to see you in here for practice work. That impresses me. Come with me and we’ll give you a few tests to see what we need to work on,” the new arrival said.
“He’s yours to play with Brielle,” the officer at the desk announced.
“Brielle?” Grange repeated. It was a woman’s name, at least in Fortune it was.
The man bristled instantly. “That’s my name; want to make something of it?” he asked
“No,” Grange replied hastily. “I’m just not from around here, so I don’t know the names folks use in Palmland. I don’t know all the music here either,” he lifted his flute to demonstrate his musical interest.
“I’m not asking you to play music. Do you want to practice weapons or not?” Brielle asked.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” Grange replied.
Follow me then,” Brielle turned and began to walk into the depths of the armory, with Grange rapidly scuttling along to catch up.
“This is nice of you,” Grange said as he walked alongside Brielle. They left the cave-like hallway and entered a very high-ceilinged open space, one with rafters far overhead, and three levels of windows admitting an abundance of light into the vast space, in which dozens of matches were taking place – men and women were fighting with swords, staffs, knives, and strange rope-like weapons Grange had never seen, while at one end of the room there were archers firing arrows at targets as well.
“Women are allowed to fight in the Palmland Guard?” Grange asked, distracted by the sight of a shapely g
irl who was acrobatically practicing the use of a staff to fight against the shadows she cast on the wall.
“You have less brains than that sword of yours, don’t you?” Brielle asked angrily.
She’s right, you know, Ariana spoke to him.
Brielle’s features seemed to virtually shift in front of Grange – though they didn’t move at all, as he looked at his presumptive instructor, and realized that the soft facial features and the unmanly body shape he had observed were in fact clearly the features of a female.
“I’m sorry, that was stupid. My mistake,” Grange felt mortified. “Obviously you and her and others are women here practicing.”
Brielle stared at him through slitted eyes, then suddenly laughed. “Look at you change color!” she snorted.
Grange could feel the blush in his cheeks…and his neck… and even up to his forehead. He had blundered terribly, he knew. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then felt a whack on his shoulder.
“Get over it, soldier. All’s forgiven; at least I don’t have to worry about you wanting to ravage me, apparently,” Brielle put an end to the matter. “Let’s go down there and see how you use the staff,” she pointed.
“I came to work on my sword work,” Grange protested.
“I saw how you handled your sword this morning; I know what your deficiencies are,” Brielle replied, drawing a growl of displeasure from Ariana, which Grange heard rumble in his head. “I want to see how you handle other weapons.”
Grange shrugged and followed the woman along the edge of the wall, to a rack of staffs that were lined up against the wall.
“Grab a helmet from the locker,” Brielle ordered. “And get a padded jacket too,” she grabbed a staff and pointed it at a door in the wall. Grange opened the door and found a plentiful supply of helmets, jackets, and even leg paddings. He pulled out materials for himself, then pulled out extra and held it out to Brielle.
“I don’t need any,” she laughed. “You’re not going to be able to do any harm to me. We just need to make sure you don’t get too banged up during our little test – put your things on.”
Grange sniffed, but donned the helmet and jacket, then took the staff Brielle offered him. He followed her to an unused practice pad.
“Now, use the staff to try to touch me,” Brielle told him. She stood in a relaxed pose, holding the butt of her staff on the ground.
“Get ready,” Grange told her, dropping into a wary crouch, his right hand holding the longer portion of the staff.
“I am ready,” Brielle assured him. Grange feinted a strike with his left hand, but Brielle didn’t react. He stepped forward and feinted again with his right hand but the woman stayed in her casual pose, mocking him, he felt. He reacted by stepping forward and swinging the left end of his staff downward towards her shin, only to suddenly find himself spinning, then laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling.
He twisted his head and saw Brielle still standing in a casual pose, her staff position only slightly modified.
“Did you do that?” he asked in surprise.
“No, it was some little flying fairy,” she mocked him.
Grange climbed to his feet and stood crouched in front of Brielle, warily watching her. “What did you do?” he asked.
“Try to touch me again, and then we can discuss it,” the guard replied.
Grange balanced his staff evenly between his two hands, watching Brielle’s eyes as he warily waited to see how she would strike him. She held her staff in the same pose she had used before, a relaxed open, seemingly vulnerable position.
Grange decided to strike immediately, rather than feint.
He at least was able to see her counterstrike launched towards his feet, before he was knocked to the ground again.
“You’ve never used a staff before, obviously,” Brielle stated.
“I didn’t know it was a weapon,” Grange protested as he rose to his feet again.
“Everything’s a weapon. Your hands are weapons; the floor’s a weapon; even the air can be a weapon. Swords are just the pretty weapons boys wear to impress girls,” Brielle said flatly.
“Put your staff away, and let’s go test the other tools,” she said.
They walked to an area near the archers. “Have you ever thrown a bola?” the guard asked.
“A what?” Grange was unfamiliar with the weapon.
“This,” Brielle picked up a length of rope longer than Grange’s arm, with wooden balls tied to either end.
“What does it do?” he asked, totally baffled by the simple tool.
“This,” Brielle casually began to swing the rope in a circle three times, then released it, so that it flew through air, twirling around an unseen axis, before it struck the legs of an empty stool. The weights at the end of the rope wrapped themselves around the legs and their momentum easily knocked the stool on its side.
“This can be used to tangle the feet of an opponent, knocking them to the ground. With heavy metal weights, or with blades implanted in the weights, the Bola can be used in a more deadly manner,” Brielle said conversationally. “I presume you’ve never thrown one?” she asked.
Grange shook his head.
“What about knives?” Brielle asked. “Archery?” she further inquired as he shook his head.
“Just swords?” she made it sound insufficient, as Grange nodded his head.
“Let’s start working with the knives today,” Brielle decided.
Just like that, Grange felt like his one small portion of independence was gone, and he was once again under the control of someone else, someone who would decide for him what he would do, where he would go, and how he would act. Of course, as soon as he returned to Brieed’s hallway, that would be true there as well, he reflected regretfully.
He followed obediently behind Brielle, and they arrived at the knife-throwing range as he went off wool-gathering about his freedom.
“Do I need to keep wearing this padding?” he asked.
The woman laughed. “Heavens no; we’re not going to use you for target practice. Take it off; make yourself comfortable,” she urged him. She opened a drawer in a large case, and pulled out a set of four heavy metal knives.
“These are the throwing knives,” she handed one to him, and held one herself. “This is how you hold one,” she demonstrated the grip, and the lesson began.
Two hours later, Grange called an end to the lesson. “I have to go join the band to play music tonight at Acton’s temple, and my fingers are cramping up from all this knife-gripping,” he complained.
“You’ve barely begun,” Brielle protested. She unconsciously emphasized the point by poking the metal knife against Grange’s chest, though not so strongly as to draw blood.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he impulsively promised.
“Really? You’re not just saying that?” Brielle doubted him.
“If you’ll let me have at least some time with the swords, I promise I’ll return tomorrow, and every day I can,” he said earnestly.
“Go on with you then,” Brielle said. “Put your pads away on your way out.”
He thanked her and departed from the armory, strolling quickly through the showers to wash away the sweat and grime of practice, glad there was no one else present to see the three jewels on his exposed arm.
“I suppose you’re pleased I practiced,” Grange grumbled to the jewels.
It is good. You must defend yourself, and you must be prepared for when the great battle comes to you, the jewels responded.
“I hope it’s not anytime too soon. I couldn’t make a knife stick in a barn door if it was within an arm’s length,” he sighed. He had no towel, so he pulled his clothes on over his damp skin, then left the armory and palace grounds, and arrived at the plaza in front of Acton’s temple just as Guy and the drum player were starting to set up. A number of people were already gathered around, tables were numerously spread, and vendors of food and drink were positioning themselves to serve the publ
ic.
As the band members arrived, Guy sent one of them with Grange to go over the first two songs, the marches he had promised they would play. The songs were jaunty tunes but simple ones, and when the musical proceedings began, Grange made few errors – which in any event were effectively drowned out by the rhythmic clapping of the audience as they accompanied the musicians.
Afterwards, the dancing music began, and Grange happily played along with the familiar tunes, until the band took its first break.
“Grange, we’re glad you’re back!” a pair of girls younger than he was giggled and smiled at him, then ran off into the crowd.
“See, I told you the audience missed you,” Guy laughed, while Grange blushed faintly, glad that the darkness of nightfall masked his embarrassment.
Only one other thing unsettled Grange during his return to the band. High atop the front of the temple, standing and looking down upon the plaza where the festival was held, stood an imposing statue of Acton. The god of war stood with a raised sword in one hand and a shield in the other, ready to slaughter and fight. His eyes though, seemed to Grange to glow, and to be focused squarely on him. All through the night he felt as though the god was looking down upon him, judging and weighing him to determine if he was worthy and capable of standing at the temple.
When the music ended he accepted his handful of coins and directions for the following night’s show, then hurried back to the palace, through security, and up to the floor where Brieed’s quarters awaited. The loaded wand effortlessly responded to his command to open the door, making him smile with momentary delight, and then he was back in the hall of wizardry and on his way to bed. His fingers were cramped from the long work of knife-wielding and flute-playing, and he was tired.
Grace’s door opened as he quietly walked by.
“Where have you been?” she asked. The girl stepped out into the hallway, wearing only the light shift she had worn the night before. In the light of the hall lamp Grange could see her more clearly, and could see the feminine features of her body more distinctly as well. He looked at her, then tried to look up, to keep his eyes focused on her forehead or higher. She noticed the movement of his eyes and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
The Elemental Jewels (Book 1) Page 27