by Cherry Potts
Tegan bundled up her swords and knives, including Brede’s ridiculously long greatsword, and carried them to the ox stall. The weight of the metal tired her. She laboured over Guida’s saddle and reins, wearily tightening the last buckle. She heaved the bundle of weapons onto the horse’s back and was trying to balance them when Leal appeared beside her.
‘Leaving us?’ Leal asked hopefully.
Tegan tried to hide her breathlessness, wondering suddenly whether Faine had really kept what she knew to herself.
‘No. I need to practise my trade, to get fit again. I can’t do that here, so I must find somewhere with space to swing a greatsword. Your daughter has agreed to partner me.’
‘If Brede wishes to learn from you, I’ve no objection; there’s no need for half-truths. If I’d known how to use a sword, her father might still be alive.’
Tegan smiled. Leal did not.
Meeting her daughter on the way back to her hut, Leal gave her a piercing look, which stopped Brede in her tracks.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
Leal shook her head slightly.
‘Your lesson is to take place somewhere with room to swing a greatsword, according to your tutor. There’s a good clearing up by the cress stream where you won’t get an audience.’
Brede gave Leal a careless hug, and went in search of Tegan.
Leal was right about the clearing by the stream. The snow was unbroken except where a fox had been through.
Brede slipped from the horse’s back, and took the heavy bundle of weaponry from Tegan.
The older woman dismounted stiffly, it was the first time she had ridden her horse since the rebel sword had found its way under her ribs. Tegan felt the scarring pull as she reached for the ground.
Brede watched Tegan’s awkward descent from the horse and frowned. She had already noticed the pallor of Tegan’s face, even the sharp wind failing to bring colour to her cheeks. Now she looked almost grey. Brede’s fierce gaze penetrated Tegan’s weakness, but she did not know how to stop Tegan from pushing herself on. Tegan turned to meet that gaze. Now that she was here, she did not feel able to provide Brede with the opponent she needed. She cleared a fallen tree of snow and sat.
‘Pick a blade,’ she told Brede. The younger woman unrolled the heavy bundle, and immediately reached for the greatsword. Tegan frowned impatiently, but bit back her comment. Let her learn by her mistakes. In this snow, the sword would overbalance her in no time.
‘Take your time,’ she said, ‘find its balance, and use the weight if you can.’
Tegan watched Brede’s first tentative passes, swinging the sword two-handed, stiffly. Unable to make much use of her wrists because of the weight, she slashed from the elbow, swung from the shoulder, drove with her whole body; all wrong, but there was no other way to use such a heavy sword. The weight pulled against her so that she was using some of her strength to hold it back, leaving her less able to follow each move through, and there was that persistent imbalance that Tegan couldn’t account for.
Tegan shifted impatiently, waiting for Brede to realise the sword was useless to her. Despite herself, she had to acknowledge that given the limitations, Brede was making a reasonable pass at it.
‘Stop now,’ she suggested. Brede let the point drop into the snow, breathing hard.
‘Do you see why it is no use to you? That sword was built for someone like Balin, with the strength and height and reach to master it. By all means dance with your sword, but it should be an extension of you, not a partner that you have to balance.’
Brede laughed.
‘It wouldn’t be my first choice, but if I had no choices, I’d want to know how to make the best of it.’
She wiped sweat out of her eyes, and flung the sword beside the rest. Tegan nodded as Brede picked out a lighter sword, one that she could use one-handed if she had to. Brede made a face; there was no hiding the poor quality of the metal, nor of its forging. Tegan relented.
‘It is a pity you can’t make use of that monstrous blade, it’s beautifully made. If you were in a position where that was the only sword to hand and you were attacked, how would you use it?’
Brede hesitated, and picked up the longer weapon again. She swung it, letting it carry her body in a slow arc. She rested the point in the snow again.
‘I’d end up scything my friends as well as my enemies.’
‘That, and leave your guard wide open. It’s not practical. The idea is to stay alive with the least amount of effort on your part. You have only to put your enemy out of action, no need to slice them in half.’
Brede nodded reluctantly, and picked up a more practical weapon, but as she straightened her eyes narrowed.
Tegan waited, recognising this now.
‘And putting the enemy out of action includes enslaving children does it?’
Tegan ran her hand across her face, gauging the space between them, and the slipperiness of the snow. If she needed to get to a sword, she would have to move fast and she was sure of neither her strength nor the footing.
‘I’m talking about my rules of combat.’
‘And those include ambush?’
‘Sometimes,’ Tegan admitted, ‘but I was not in charge of that raid. And it didn’t go according to plan.’
‘It seemed pretty successful to me.’
Tegan stood abruptly, testing Brede’s mood.
‘Do you want to talk about this rationally or do you want to fight?’
‘I want to fight – I’ll try rationality – for a while.’ Tegan listened to the jerky way Brede’s words came out, chopped and fierce. Definitely fighting. She walked towards her, as steadily as she could manage.
‘Put the sword down.’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll have one too.’ Tegan snatched up the longsword, and winced at the weight, heavier than she remembered. She glanced at Brede and leant on the sword, using it for support. ‘It was a disaster from the start. We were late starting out, we got lost, we were nearly too late for the Gather.’
Brede nodded.
‘That’s why it was only us left.’
‘Yes. We caught up with Cloud –’
‘We were waiting for them.’
‘Yes, once we knew that, we played on it. We hoped you’d think we were them.’
‘We did –’ Brede raised her free hand to stop Tegan from continuing, struggling for the rationality she had promised; ‘– even after the first few horses. Cloud were coming for a hand-fasting, there’s a tradition that the woman’s Clan drive off a few horses to state their intentions, a game – you let them –’ Brede’s breath deserted her, ‘– and the man goes after to get them back, and brings the rustler back with him – Ivo – he was hand-fasting with Luce of Cloud. We thought that it was Luce – until you killed Ivo.’
Tegan dragged together what she thought was safe to say, wondering whether she should stop, hardly daring to.
‘We were expecting the horses to all be together, we thought we could get them all in one go: fast, clean.’
‘We drive them together, but it’s not like that at a Gather. We’re trading then, as individuals. We keep our own string close at hand.’
‘So, little pockets of horses, lots of people, plan gone wrong.’
‘And that’s your justification?’
‘What do you want? For me to say the intention was to wipe out two Clans and fill our coffers with slave-silver? Because it wasn’t, Brede.’
Brede glared at the sword in her hand.
‘I can’t do this.’ She let it drop into the snow. ‘Not now.’
Tegan let the longsword fall.
They had stayed out in the cold too long. By the time they returned through the gate under Adair’s scowling regard, Brede was exhausted, and Tegan was shivering with cold. Brede thought of the work waiting for her in the forge with distaste, feeling the strain in her shoulder muscles from the greatsword. She had hoped to stand up to it better given her work at the anvil. Tegan
stumbled dismounting from the horse; Brede raised an arm and caught her without thinking. Tegan leant into Brede’s encircling arm, grateful, but afraid to need that support. She looked Brede in the eye, making a question of that glance. Brede returned her gaze and Tegan turned her head away fighting to recover her poise. This close, Brede could see that Tegan’s hair wasn’t the light brown she had imagined, but a darker brown, well threaded with grey.
What does that change? she asked herself severely, but still, it changed something. Brede withdrew her hand from Tegan’s elbow and stepped away.
‘I’ll see to your horse,’ Brede said, ‘then I’ll bring the swords. Go and rest.’
Tegan walked away almost blind with weariness. Brede turned to the horse, fire burning in her cheeks. She told herself it was anger, but it was not. She wondered if Tegan noticed the your horse. Probably not.
As she reached for brush and cloth her eye caught movement outside. Brede put the brush back, and made a long stretch for the leather curtain. Adair stepped back sharply. Brede held the curtain wider open, and tilted her head in question. Adair ducked under the low lintel to join her. Brede picked up the brush and gave a slow, steady swipe to Guida’s coat.
‘Swords, now?’ Adair asked.
Brede nodded. Another steady sweep along Guida’s mane.
Adair said nothing for a long time, watching her hands moving in the semi-darkness. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
‘Brede, tell me what is happening.’
Brede stopped to worry a snarl from Guida’s coat.
‘I don’t know myself.’ She looked up finally. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘You’ll leave with her when she goes?’ Brede rubbed dust off her face, and frowned.
‘Will I?’ she asked. Adair frowned in turn, puzzled at the tone of Brede’s question.
‘I think so.’
Brede went back to the snarl in the horse’s mane.
‘If you say so. I hadn’t thought of it.’
Adair snorted in disbelief. ‘No Brede, don’t play games.’
Brede shook her head slowly.
‘You know I can’t stay. Not now.’
‘What has changed?’
‘Everything.’
Adair, watching her doubtfully, saw her fight tears. He reached, and when she did not step away, brushed the dampness from her face. Brede wrapped her arms about herself, protective, restraining, stopping herself from weakening into his concern. She bit hard on her lip, and blinked quickly.
‘If I’m to be a warrior, I have to learn to stand without comfort.’
‘Are your wings strong enough?’
Brede laughed a damp, doubt-drenched laugh.
‘I don’t know how strong they need to be.’
Adair shook his head, rubbing her tears into his fingers. He walked away, head down, fingers still tracing the touch of her.
Chapter Eight
Tegan practised with sword and dagger, grim and silent and alone; night after night. She couldn’t allow her weakness to overcome her. She must be ready to leave with the thaw. To do that, she must be able to get as far as the cress stream unaided, and be ready and able to partner Brede’s embryonic sword-skill. It was more than a week of ferocious effort before she could do it.
Brede’s body grew used to the new demands she made of it; a subtly different set of muscles grew into an understanding of their work. Her feet became swifter and more agile; even in snow. She learnt how to breathe with her strokes, learnt strength and accuracy and force. Tegan was quietly satisfied with Brede’s expanding physical ability, but there was a nagging doubt.
‘Do you want to die?’ Tegan asked abruptly, as she once more pulled short her stroke, turning her blade so that the flat of it thumped into Brede’s ribs.
Brede recoiled from the blow, glanced at Tegan’s stance, and did not lower her sword.
‘No,’ she said simply, waiting for Tegan to explain herself.
Tegan scooped a handful of snow and threw it at Brede.
‘You are still favouring your right side; it is weak, surprisingly weak, you should work on that.’
Brede flicked her head out of the way of the cold spray, and stepped deliberately away, indication that she was ending the bout, but Tegan would not drop it.
‘What would you be willing to die for? What are you willing to kill for?’ Tegan asked, as she stepped forward, knocking Brede’s blade upward. Brede altered her grip slightly, forced Tegan’s sword away and stepped back into the bout. Tegan’s dagger tangled into Brede’s; too close to avoid a rip across the knuckles. But then, Tegan close enough for a blow that would kill her. Brede tapped her gently above her heart with the hilt of her dagger.
‘You’re dead. Again.’
‘Who are you willing to kill?’ Tegan countered. Brede pushed her away.
‘Is this a game you play with all your recruits?’
Tegan blinked. ‘In fact it is, but I want to know where you stand – you leave yourself open to attack. You think about how to reach your opponent, you think of their vulnerability, but you ignore your own.’
Brede looked at Tegan blankly.
‘Is that really what I’m doing?’
Tegan slowly repeated each move of the last encounter.
‘You see? That weakness on the right – if this were for real, you’d have been dead long before you got that dagger into my heart. There is no point in dying for the sake of a sure blow at your opponent.’
Brede frowned, thinking hard.
‘And you think too much. You are measuring and planning, and hesitating when you should be reacting. It doesn’t matter what I might do in response to your blow; if your blow is sufficiently effective I won’t do anything. It’s not a game of strategy.’
Brede winced, recognising the truth there, but not agreeing with Tegan. Tegan saw the change of expression and pounced, pushing her advantage.
‘So, who do you want to kill so much that you’d risk dying for it?’
Brede pulled at the lacing of her jerkin and dragged it off, her dagger tangled into the cloth. She wrenched her shirt clear of her shoulder and turned her back, letting Tegan see the livid scar.
‘That’s the ‘weakness’ you’re so concerned at. If I were to want to kill someone, it might be whoever did that.’ She pulled the shirt straight, and reached for her jerkin. Her face was hidden when she spoke again, hair falling over her eyes. ‘I don’t know who it was, so I don’t want to kill anyone,’ she said swiftly, without emphasis. Tegan sighed.
‘Then learn to defend yourself,’ she said briskly, stepping once more into the attack, just as Brede collected up the dagger.
The winter passed, the snows began to thaw, and Tegan began to think of her place with her companions, of duty, and of moving on. It was hard to think of those things here, in the slowness of the water lands, despite her steady work towards making herself ready for the journey.
Walking with Brede from the village to the now familiar cress stream, Tegan said, ‘I must leave soon.’
Brede was instantly alert.
‘I don’t believe I’ll ever be strong enough to lead anyone into battle. I would be a danger to my friends.’
Tegan’s voice shook. She had said many things to Brede over the winter, many things that she found hard to say out loud to anyone, but this was the most painful truth she had forced into the open.
‘I am never going to fully recover from this wound,’ Tegan said into the waiting silence, ‘and if I do not, I’m afraid I will lose Maeve.’
The silence stretched, and Brede must say something, for Tegan had stopped walking, and was staring at her, breathing in that cautious, shallow way she had when the air was cold.
‘Maeve either loves you or she doesn’t,’ Brede said with abrupt irritation.
Tegan pulled her ragged breath into her lungs and followed after Brede’s stiff striding. She took silent note of the shift in the way Brede held her shoulders; it was only a moment’s distraction, but Tegan’
s feet went from under her, slipping in melted snow. Brede was there, a hand under her arm. Tegan shook her off, cursing silently,
Too quick, damn you. She couldn’t afford to depend on Brede.
Brede stepped back and left Tegan to herself, walking briskly ahead through the slush.
‘I have to leave,’ Tegan said through her teeth. Brede did not turn, did not hear.
‘I have to leave you,’ Tegan muttered, as she struggled up the hill, her throat tight with misery.
‘Leal’s been asking about you again,’ Brede said casually, as she rested on her sword hilt. ‘She and Faine seem to do nothing but gossip about you these days. Whatever answer I give her, she always says: Faine doesn’t see it that way.’
‘Leal has changed out of all recognition,’ Tegan agreed.
‘She has,’ Brede said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never felt so close to her. But she never stops her questions. It’s as though she wants to know everything I’ve done or thought. It frightens me.’
‘Curiosity’s healthy,’ Tegan said. Brede shrugged. Some of those questions had been intended to challenge, and to wound – questions about Brede’s relationship with Tegan.
Brede hadn’t responded to those half accusations, not knowing the answer. Now, she watched Tegan with the latest of Leal’s snide remarks in her mind, and despaired at the unsteady and distressing happiness that suffused her. She tamped it down; forced herself to remember that nightmare of flying arrows and blood, to remember Falda, and Tegan’s part in her disappearance.
‘It’s only the novelty,’ Brede said, thinking of the frightening strength of her desire, but determined to put away those emotions, to make what use she could of Tegan’s presence and to learn from her.
‘Yes,’ Tegan said, briskly, partly aware that Brede hadn’t spoken in answer to her comment about Leal. At least Brede had said something.
The grass was beginning to recover from the frosts; the river was in spate with melted snow. The air was full of change, migrant birds were beginning to pass; soon, the farmers that remained would be back to casting seed on their fields, the armies would be back to their killing. It was time to move.