by Nicole Burr
“Now don’t get too ahead of yerself, Esra,” Baelin laughed. “Better learn some basics fore runnin’ out onto the open battlefield.”
“Bah! Now that I have yer wonderful blacksmithing gifts, what’s the worst that could happen?” At that she made a quick jump forward as a demonstration of her newfound confidence, frantically swinging the shortsword upwards with a loud “Hi-yeeee!” Losing her grip on the hilt, Esra watched in horror as the blade flew twirling through the air, sticking in the ground between two blacksmiths who were standing unaware on the other side of the shop. Their conversation halted abruptly as they both turned with perplexed faces towards the offending warrior.
“Err, sorry!” Esra called to them as Baelin doubled over in laughter.
“Dangerous ye are, that’s fer certain. Danger te yerself and yer kinsman.”
Esra blushed in embarrassment as she joined in his laughter.
“Thank goodness ye don’ have a Turnip,” he roared. “I’d be a dead man!”
After shamefully walking over to retrieve her weapon and apologizing profusely again to the offended parties, Esra gathered up her new sword and buckler and headed back to the stables. She wanted to finish packing Roja with her new weapon and shield. The others were already there, straightening their saddles and tucking in stray leather straps. A young boy of about eight was patiently brushing Roja’s thick white mane. Esra strolled up to the Skycatcher and started rubbing his long, lean flanks. The rest of her things had already been packed and tied to the Horse by Humi, the Keeper of Speed.
“Are ye miss Esra?” The young boy asked, looking up at her with wide brown eyes. He was missing his front two teeth, which caused a slight whistle when he talked.
“Aye. An what’s yer name?”
“Yarmon, the Keeper of Foresight.”
“Pleased to meet ye, Yarmon.”
“Don’ wear the helmet, miss Esra.”
“What helmet?” She tilted her head in surprise and bent down to face the young boy who was staring at her with deep concern. “I don’t have any armor yet.”
“The bad man does. Don’t wear it. Promise.”
She stared at him for a long moment, expecting him to say more. The furrowed brow on his young face helped her understand that he had said all he could and was waiting for her answer.
“I won’t. I promise.”
He nodded in satisfaction and took off running towards the Dining Hall.
“I see ye’ve met our Yarmon,” Arland appeared suddenly beside her. “What did he tell ye?”
“Not to wear the helmet.”
“Hmm,” Arland frowned. Even with a sulky look on his face he continued to be endearing. Esra didn’t think there could be any circumstance that made him appear less attractive. “Wonder what he meant.”
“I’m not sure,” she mused.
“Well, whatever it means, keep it in mind. There’s been quite a few times when he’s helped us to avoid disaster.”
She nodded and took a few steps back, preparing to attempt another run and jump mounting. Just as she leaned back to propel herself forward, a strong hand landed heavily on her shoulder.
“Ah!” She shrieked and hopped forward clumsily, turning to find her mother and father standing behind her.
“Sorry, dear,” Talitha apologized. “We’ve come to say goodbye and good luck.”
“Tis a shame it’s so soon.” Adonis hugged his daughter fiercely, kissing her forehead. “I will miss ye all over again.”
Her mother stepped forward to embrace her, whispering lowly into her ear. “Have faith, Esra. It is always in our darkest hour that we prove we are capable of a courage we did not know we had.”
They both stepped back and watched their daughter clumsily mount the tall white Skycatcher and straighten herself in the saddle. The others had finished saying their goodbyes and stood waiting atop their own Steeds, My Lady, Meda, Fariel, and Errol. They were a glorious sight, the five young travelers atop their majestic Skycatchers. As they took off across the green lush Grasses of The Gardens, Esra took a last glimpse towards the place that would become her home, and swore that she would return to it with the Unni-se, no matter what.
XXV
Knowing that the War Council would be held in less than two fortnights and that it would take almost half that time to reach Fira Nadim, they rode hard under the black cover of night. It was approaching mid spring and the increasingly hot days meant that they preferred the cooler air of darkness, both for the Horses as well as the element of protection it provided from Elite trackers. It was a strange schedule to keep, and Esra found it difficult to sleep in the midst of the high noon Sun until Nadia showed her how to fasten a cloth around her eyes to keep out most of the light. They continued to use cloaking spells for the Fires so that they could enjoy fresh meals while remaining hidden from danger. The last thing this group needed was to draw attention to itself. And just as Arland had said, they did not collect any wood but continued to burn their smokeless Fires from some magickal source.
They also rode hard because they needed to have breaks to train Esra in the five skills of war. It was necessary to know at least the basics of each if she were to have any level of respect approaching the Unni-se, as battle skills were the most highly regarded ability in Fira Nadim. Not to mention the fact that her Assembly may actually be engaged in battle at any moment. It terrified and excited her at the same time. Esra was more than ready to learn how to fight, her confidence boosted by a weapon and shield she felt she could manage. And she found herself becoming increasingly angry at Tallen and his wicked followers, disgusted that she had to learn such things to defend the basic liberties of the people of her Kingdom. Yet here was an opportunity to bring together the races and reinforce the First Law of the Keepers, and she tried to focus on using that anger to fuel her training.
On the second day of their travels, Arland woke Esra to the last few hours of evening for her first lesson.
“The main skill ye need to learn is defense, because all the other skills are no good if ye can’t stay alive long enough to use them. But ye will also need to understand basic attacking maneuvers to defend yerself well. Ye’ll gain endurance as we are training and I will give ye some exercises to complete when we are between lessons. Some ye will even be able to do while riding Roja. Strategy is something that will have to wait until we get back to the Stronghold, as time won’t permit a thorough study. And all four of us will be contributing and giving ye lessons, as we are all strong and weak in different areas. There should be some information on yer Tur from Cane about the skills of war. We will show ye how to access that information shortly. Hopefully this will give ye a well-rounded knowledge in the basics of war.”
“Agreed.”
“And I know that Nadia continues to work with ye on stealth, correct?”
“Aye,” Esra nodded. Every day since the Rabbit in the clearing a short week ago they had been spending a few minutes here and there trying to improve upon what she had learned, namely how to stay quiet and unseen. It was proving to be a challenge for Esra, but she was making slow and steady progress with a very patient teacher.
“Well then, let’s begin. I want ye to have a seat on that log over there, because yer first task is observation. Ye need to study us as we spar, try and make sense of how each of us approaches defensive and offensive maneuvers, how we use our different weapons.”
She did as she was told as Arland called to Fynn, who reached eagerly for his bow and quiver. After some convincing he instead took up Esra’s shortsword and buckler to demonstrate a duel between two blades. He muttered something under his breath and she wondered if he was cursing his luck or casting a spell.
“I am a master archer and much prefer te shoot my foes from a distance, but if ye feel better beating me te a pulp so I can court yer sister, then swing away.”
At that Arland charged forward with a grin, swinging the Greatsword of Narajuv with both hands in a wide upward motion. Fynn parried the blow
with the buckler and was knocked back a step as Nadia took a seat on the ground next to Esra. Fynn spun quickly to the left, swinging his blade around and over Arland’s shoulder, who deftly ducked out the way. Both of them prowled around in a circle and the archer turned swordfighter taunted his foe with an impromptu jig, causing Arland to lunge again. Fynn blocked the first swing with his blade, stabbing under his buckler as the second swing met with his shield.
“They certainly are competitive.”
“Aye,” Nadia laughed. “Don’t worry, we use a spell so that they can’t kill each other. At least fer now.”
“So that’s what Fynn was doing. Have they ever hurt one another?”
“Aye, but nothing serious. Or at least nothing that Fynn couldn’t heal.”
The two continued to spar for a few minutes as Esra studied their movements with quiet intensity. Arland was certainly the more skilled swordsman but Fynn was very quick, avoiding disaster on more than one occasion by a mere hair’s breadth.
After they tired, Nadia and Baelin decided to showcase their talent with his staff and her throwing spears. Nadia explained that she had to be very careful since receiving the Necklace of Stunning as her third Gift. If she forgot to take it off before sparring, everything she hit with a weapon or shield would be knocked senseless for a few minutes. Esra took the thin chain into her hands, rubbing the flat orange stone with its four square sides. It seemed so harmless, beautiful even. It was hard to believe this small ornament could cause such destruction.
Nadia used two of her throwing spears like small staffs, something Esra would have never thought of. The two were a comical sight, the seven foot tall monstrosity battling the tiny shimmering Elf woman. But neither of them held back as they darted and spun, clashed and grunted. Nadia was much quicker, but Baelin seemed to possess a skill for anticipation and was holding his own defensively. A few times he knocked her so far back with a mighty swing that she appeared like a glistening ghost at the other side of the battle ground before recovering swiftly to take the offensive. At one point Baelin struck one of her throwing spears from her hands and she pulled out a small dagger. Esra remembered Fynn saying she used them as a backup weapon for close encounters. In a few moments Nadia had evened the score by landing a fierce kick in the center of Baelin’s stomach, knocking the breath from him.
Esra could not believe the skill level of the members of her Assembly. She was even more bewildered that they could ever expect her to fight like this. A farm girl who studied books all day. A clumsy farm girl at that. She was lost in worried reverie, forgetting her earlier confidence as she imagined an Elite soldier spearing her with one quick thrust.
“Now, Esra,” Arland called to her, “let’s begin with the skill of defense. Grab yer sword and shield and get out here.”
She struggled to her feet, the muscles in her legs protesting in their stiffness. Reaching for the soft white leather grip of the luminous shortsword, she picked up the weapon that was slowly growing more familiar in her hands. The night before she had been studying the light blue gemstone encased in the dark gold pommel, tracing the stone’s smooth surface as she relaxed by the Fire. Esra had tried to think of how she could possibly approach the Unni-se with the proposition of attending the War Council. Um, excuse me large, hairy sir. Would ye mind traveling halfway across the Kingdom to have a talk with us Humans? No? Alright then, sorry to trouble ye.
She picked up the buckler lying on the ground next to the sword and studied the picture of Roja on reared legs with Meshok beside him in a threatening stance. Esra tried to absorb the courage and intimidation that they exhibited in the engraving. Sighing in resignation, she could not deny the fact that even though she was looking forward to this training she was already tired from riding. “I have no misconceptions of how much work this is going to be. Then again, any advice that may help me avoid getting my head hacked off by an Elite is most certainly welcome.”
She ambled to the center of the space that her friends had been fighting in and gave Arland a weak smile as she swung the blade a few times in an attempt to loosen her muscles. She slid the buckler through her left arm as the rest of the group took seats around the area to watch, heightening Esra’s nervousness. Then again maybe it was better that they knew how terrible a warrior she was, so that hopefully they knew to aide in her protection as much as possible. She would take all the help she could get.
Arland got the extra wooden shortsword and buckler that they had brought along to practice with and met her back in the field to begin their instruction.
“Ye will eventually learn how to use yer sword to defend, but fer now we will start with yer buckler only. The most important thing yer shield is fer, is to protect yer sword arm. If ye are struck in the hand that ye are holding yer weapon in, it will be very difficult fer ye to fight. Therefore, a good defensive stance is one that puts the shield in the front of the body and the sword arm towards the back of the body.” He demonstrated by taking the defensive position and Esra attempted to imitate him. Arland walked over and manually adjusted her shoulders, lowering her shield arm to cover the center of her body.
“Widen yer stance and bend yer knees fer balance. Good. The second most important thing is to use yer shield as a deflector. Yer buckler is light but strong and the slightly curved shape will make it easier fer ye to defend against a sword attack. Ye will learn how to deflect a blade as well as catch an arrow in its path or turn aside a well-aimed staff hit. Now, I want ye to put yer shield down fer a moment and try to attack me.”
“Attack ye?” Esra asked
“Aye. Just take a few swings.”
Esra shrugged and took a position she thought suitable for someone about to commence a sword fight attack. Stepping forward, she swung her blade in a large arc around her body. Arland easily parried the blow with such force that she stumbled backwards. Coming forward again, she swung and stabbed a few more times as he effortlessly defended her attacks, driving her quickly backwards.
“Great. Now did ye see how I used my shield? And how I barely moved from this spot? Ye want to keep yer knees bent at all times so ye can be on yer toes and ready. Ye will be able to shift position quickly and with little movement. Now I want ye to put down yer sword and try to deflect a few of my blows.”
“I want ye to know,” Esra admitted, “I’m embarrassed but very grateful that ye had thought to bring a wooden practice sword. It would not look good if the daughter of the Great Keeper of War lost her arm on the first day of battle training. And I’m not quite sure if Fynn has the ability to regrow limbs, talented as he is.”
She took the defensive stance that they had just practiced and bent her knees slightly in preparation. Arland came towards her with a wide swing and she turned to the left to block the attack. He spun quickly and jabbed at her right, but she shifted her buckler in time to parry him. After deflecting the next couple of attacks, her elation deflated as she realized he was being easy on her, even with a wooden sword.
“Ye needn’t take it so light with me,” Esra paused to scold him, slightly out of breath. “If ye want me to be fighting like a true warrior in a few fortnights, we had better hasten the intensity of our lessons.”
“As ye wish,” Arland gave her one of his appealingly crooked smiles and peeled off his sweaty shirt. His perfectly formed chest glimmered darkly as Fynn let out a whistle and shouted.
“He intends te distract ye with his glistening man chest. Skewer him through!”
Arland laughed and looked at her determinedly. “Let’s try it again.”
Esra took a few steps back and lowered into her stance as he came towards her. This time his sword hit her left side before she had even considered moving her shield. He caught her right shoulder with a quick jab and spun around, his blade singing with victory as it found her thigh. Esra tried to regain her composure as she lifted her arm to deflect his next swing but he struck her hard against the hip.
She gasped in pain and held up her hand in surrender as r
ed welts began to rise all over her body. “Alright, ye win. I thought that ye were supposed to be good luck to have around.”
“Aye, but only if I intend fer it. Otherwise every opponent I fought would have the gift of fortune with them at all times, which would prove very unlucky fer me.”
Esra nodded as she leaned over and tried to catch her breath.
“Another advantage to having a light shield and sword is that ye will be able to move rapidly and yer buckler can be used to hide yer sword arm’s position. This will make it harder fer yer opponent to anticipate what ye will do next.
“There are also certain offensive advantages to having a shield, as ye can use it to directly attack yer opponent. The face or rim when thrust at someone can be a heavy hit. There may also be times where ye are able to use yer shield to bind yer enemy’s sword hand against themselves or another object, preventing them from striking. Or, when ye get very skillful, ye may even learn how to catch a blade and disarm someone.”
After taking a few more minutes for Esra to recover, they all took turns attacking her with the practice sword as she tried to defend against them. Most of the time she could not deflect their hits, but she could feel herself growing somewhat more comfortable with using the shield. By the end of a long and grueling hour she was swollen and bruised in almost every part of her body from being hit repeatedly with the blunt wooden blade. But she continued fighting, bending low in the defensive stance as each person came towards her swinging.
The light began to wane and Arland finally held up his hand in a signal to stop.
“Fynn,” Esra panted, “I have a feeling I’ll be needing yer healing hands in a very short while.”
“Bah, what’s the fun in that? Don’t ye fancy looking like a rotten, bruised potato?”
She smiled as everyone collapsed around the Fire in exhaustion. Esra devoured two bowls of Vegetable stew before falling asleep almost as soon as she lay down, full of warmth and food. She was shaken to consciousness less than an hour later and groggily made her way to Roja, where it took her three attempts to mount the Steed. As she clenched herself against the Skycatcher with her bruised legs, she hoped only for the mercy of a smooth and gentle ride.