by Nicole Burr
Suddenly he feigned left and jabbed quickly over her buckler, piercing deeply into her left shoulder. Esra cried out with pain and surprise as she watched the blade retreat from her skin, a slow gush of blood beginning to trail down her shielding arm. She could hear the Valkor laughing triumphantly as her eyes became speckled with intense bursts of light from the pain, and she stumbled backwards. Clenching her teeth, Esra retreated to the far corner of the sparring ground to recover. She adjusted her grip on the buckler, left arm slick with warm blood, and bent lower. Strangely reenergized by her injury, adrenaline moved her onto the offensive as she attacked him with a fierce determination. Even without a shield he countered her, and spun to take a wide swing at her head. She ducked quickly, clipping a small chunk out of his calf with a well-aimed jab. He howled, just as much from anger as pain, and backed away slowly. Esra took advantage of his withdrawal to catch her breath for the next stream of attacks.
There were bursts of ringing as their swords collided again and again, a strangely musical sound. Esra darted about, trying to keep ahead of his quick swings. Growing more confident in her abilities the longer she was able to avert disaster, Esra made two quick jabs, one causing a shallow scratch on his left side. The Valkor hissed in annoyance and took a wide sweep at her legs. Esra jumped over the blade just in time to see it reappear next to her head. She felt a stinging at her cheek as the sword lightly dragged itself across her face. The metallic taste of blood entered the corner of her mouth as she lunged forward powerfully with her buckler, knocking him to the ground. She took an overhead swing but he rolled over and onto his feet swiftly, jeering at her with his few crooked teeth.
Pacing the circle, Esra took the defensive stance that was quickly becoming a habit and continued to deflect his attacks. Gritting her teeth against the pulsating pain in her left shoulder, she tried to focus on all the defensive maneuvers she had learned. Sensing that the Valkor was becoming impatient, she hoped to wear him down by letting him attack. He lunged and stabbed at her furiously, growing exponentially more agitated with each deflection. After a few long minutes of sparring, he guessed at her game and retreated to the other side of the practice field.
“Oh no ye don’t,” she breathed. Not wanting to allow him recovery from his weakened state, Esra took the offensive and swung at him with controlled fury. He countered, but in his exhaustion the force of the blow knocked him off balance and he stumbled. Esra punched quickly with her shield at his sword hand and watched with relief as the blade tumbled to the ground.
She pointed her sword straight at the Valkor’s throat and held it there, his raspy breath wheezing in and out heavily. She could hear the people around her, shouting for Esra to end his life. In her fury, she wanted to push the blade through his skin, this man who so desperately wanted to kill her. But instead she took a step back and lowered her sword, turning to bow to the Unni-se. Cries of disappointment traveled through the crowd as Zakai stepped forward.
“I respect yer mercy, but this was te be a duel te the death.”
“Great Chief, I…”
“Esra!” At the sound of Baelin’s panicked voice, Esra turned just in time to throw her sword out in front of her as the Valkor ran into her blade. The sword which he had retrieved to attack her from behind dropped heavily out of his raised hands. There was a sickening gurgling sound as Esra pulled the sword from his midsection and he crumpled over into a heap, a red stain spreading quickly over the dry earth. She looked towards Baelin with overflowing gratitude at his warning, which was followed abruptly by an intense wave of nausea. She bent over to vomit, a tear streaming down her bloodied cheek. The crowd of Unnis shouted and beat their weapons together in a cacophony of applause.
Baelin came to her just before she fell over, lowering her slowly to the ground. “Well done, Esra. Ye did it.”
Arland and Fynn grasped each other’s hand with relieved smiles as Nadia approached with a look of concern. “Ye had to, Esra. Don’t be upset. He would’ve stabbed ye in the back, even after ye spared his life.”
Zakai stepped towards her and stuck out a large hand. Esra felt dazed as she looked up at his looming form, almost as if she were in a dream and not quite in control of her own body. With much effort, she reached out with her good arm and he pulled her up so that she was standing right in front of him, her head barely as tall as his chest. He gave her a nod of approval before addressing the crowd.
“People of Fira Nadim, I am true te my word. Esra has proven herself this day as a Human with courage and honor. I will make ready te leave fer the Jade Gardens, where I will attend the first War Council in hundreds of years. I will represent the great Unni warriors in this gathering of the races. Before I leave we will hold our own council, where any man or woman may speak as they like upon the issue of war against Tallen. I promise te hold yer opinion in mind as I go te the Stronghold, but in the end know that I will decide what I think is best fer our people.”
Esra blinked back the wetness that formed over her eyes as she looked up at the Sun filtering dimly into the Glenn. She could hear the excited cries of the Unni crowd that surrounded her, but they seemed distant in her ears. A Whipbird flew low over her head, and she could see the Animal’s chest swell gently as it breathed, it’s wings framed in a graceful bow. It was so alive. Yet how quickly things could change. Esra had claimed a life, but she felt as if it were her own life that were ending. It was if she could feel the steady breath leaving the Valkor’s lungs for the last time, sensed the irrevocable end to the beating of his heart as his body surrendered its fight to survive.
Barely aware that her face was streaked with tears, she lowered her head in defeat and felt darkness close in on her soul. An old tavern ballad from Sorley came to mind, and she felt momentarily confused about all the songs she had heard about the valor and glory of war, of a battle swiftly claimed. She had taken a life, and there was nothing triumphant or glorious about it. Like the Valkor, she now had the urge to lay down and succumb to fate, to submit to this strange world that had such indiscriminate rules. She put her face in her hands and let out a great heaving sob that shook her body violently. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, she began to whisper over and over, rocking gently back and forth. I’m sorry.
Baelin stood looking wide eyed at her sobbing form before slowly coming to put his arms around her. Esra let herself be held for a moment, cursing the world and all of its bitter ways. Cursing the Elite soldiers and Tallen, LeVara’s indifferent King, the stubborn Unni-se, her estranged parents, everything that had brought her to the brink of this moment, of her needing to kill someone. What saddened her more than anything was the thought that this was just the beginning, that she would feel the sensation of bone and flesh on her sword again, or else be on the other side of someone’s blade. And she felt guilty at the thrill she now felt at her aliveness, her gratitude that it had been her opponent, and not her, that lay broken and bleeding on the dry ground. Baelin held her steadily until the sobs slowly left her body and were reduced to small gasping breaths.
When she was too exhausted to cry anymore, Baelin stepped back awkwardly and lowered his gaze. The Unni that helped her in the forest came marching up and indicated in a rumbling voice that Zakai requested Baelin’s presence. He glanced worriedly at Esra, who stared at him blankly.
“Go, I’ll be fine,” she said scratchily, her throat raw.
Fynn suddenly appeared next to them and Esra gratefully leaned onto his steady frame. Without another word, they parted from her blacksmith friend as the Unni guided them towards a tent where she could sit and rest. By the time they reached the tent, Esra’s knees buckled and she slid downwards until she was sitting awkwardly next to the Fire. Fynn began to unload a bag full of Herbs onto a folded blanket. “Jumpin’ jig, Es. Serves him right, being skewered like a noonmeal Rabbit. Ye did great. Nasty gash he gave ye, though.”
She turned her head to look blandly at the dark, thick blood that was still flowing from her left shoulder. She felt nothing, the
horror of the event of death had reduced any physical injury to a mild irritation, like a Fly buzzing about a Horse’s mane. Fynn cut the sleeves of her shirt and she barely flinched as he tenderly felt the wound. He wiped the skin and placed a clean cloth over her arm, taking her hand and directing her to apply pressure to the bandage.
“It’s too bad he told us we couldn’t use magick. We were all waiting te cast some fantastic spells.”
“It wouldn’t have been fair,” she whispered distractedly.
“Aye, well neither is a poisoned helmet.”
“What?”
“That helmet someone tried te give ye. If ye would have put it on ye would be dead. There were a few small thorns in the top covered in the juice from a Hethro Plant. It would have made yer muscles weak, vision blurry, ye wouldn’t have been able te fight. And if the Valkor didn’t finish the job the poison would have killed ye within minutes. There is a cure, but not one easily found. I doubt even with all my skills as a Keeper, a spell te slow its course and the fastest Skycatcher in the Kingdom, that I would have been able te save ye. ”
“Oh my,” Esra took a jagged breath, stunned by this revelation. Yarmon was right. She owed him her life. The realization seemed to bring her halfway back to the present, and she winced in pain. “Too bad I don’t have an Earring of Recovery.”
“Aye,” Fynn nodded, absentmindedly touching the small silver hoop that was his fourth Gift. “But remember, although I can heal from any physical wound and I am immune te disease, I can still be attacked by magick. Now I know ye’ve had a rough day already, but I think it’s a perfect time fer yer first lesson in restoration magick.”
“Wait,” she grasped his hand before it touched her shoulder and lowered it slowly into his lap. “Don’t heal me.”
Fynn cocked his head to look at her with concern. “The cut is deep, Es. We must stop the flow of blood and repair the muscle, else ye may not be able te use it again.”
She looked up at the sky for a long moment before replying in a low whisper. “I have taken a life today. Ye and the others may have done it before, but I have not. I will remember what this foul deed has cost. If I choose to heal this hurt without ever being submitted to the irreversible pain of battle, I fear it will make me cold. Ye will do whatever healing is necessary using Plants, as any apothecary would, but no magick.”
They both sat in silence as Fynn absorbed her request. Then he reached over to snatch a small satchel from the ground beside them, dumping the contents on the ground. He quickly began taking pinches from the small pouches, mixing the powders together in a bowl. “I admire yer courage, Es. And I realize that ye are feeling some things that are very foreign te ye. Killing someone, no matter how justified, is not something te take lightly. None of us do, and I respect ye fer it. However, I have two requests. One is that ye let me cast a simple spell to ward off infection, as that will be a most difficult thing fer me te cure later on, magick or no. Infections are complex, wicked things that penetrate the entire body, and they can be fatal. I promise that the spell will not lessen yer physical pain. Two, after the wound has healed the best it could on its own, ye must let me use magick te repair the muscle. Otherwise, ye may not be able te fight properly.”
Esra contemplated the wisdom of his words before nodding weakly. He rubbed some type of oil over her shoulder, numbing it slightly before starting to pack the wound with the mixture from the bowl. Esra writhed in agony as he gently held her still and whispered the words of the spell to stave off infection. “Moro nuur trivia. There are two components te restoration magick; one is physical and the other mental. The physical element is what ye see here, the Herbs and ointments, the various mixtures I use when healing someone. It sounds simple, knowing which Plant te use fer what ailment, but the truth is that it depends on the person yer trying te heal. And mixing different things together can prove te do more harm than good if ye don’t know what ye need.”
He continued packing her wound as he spoke and she tried to focus all her attention on his words. She had a feeling this was an attempt to distract her from the pain more than it was a lesson, knowing that she would probably remember little of what he told her. “The second element is the magickal side of healing. This is also fairly complicated. There are various spells that one can use te promote healing or cure an ill. Although I’m afraid there’s no cure fer what ails me. It seems all women are indisputably attracted te me. Short of beating ‘em off with a stick, it’s a hopeless case.”
He held his hands over his heart as he looked at Nadia, who had approached with a bucket of Water. Esra laughed weakly as her Elf friend dropped the bucket on the ground, sloshing some Water over the side and onto Fynn’s pants.
“That should cool ye off a bit,” Nadia scowled. “Esra, how are ye feeling? Ye look a little pale.”
“I feel…awful, but not from the wound. From something much deeper.. Fynn is trying to teach me a little about healing.”
“Well, the bleeding’s stopped. Still, no heavy fighting or lifting fer at least a week,” Fynn directed.
“No lifting?” Nadia stared at him in confusion. “Was there something that didn’t allow ye to heal the wound properly?”
“Aye, miss Esra here wouldn’t allow it,” he said. “I will explain her request te ye later. Right now I think we need te put a little something on her face fer that cut, and then she should probably take a nice rest.”
Esra nodded as Nadia unrolled a blanket and helped her to lie down. She had always known there was a violent element in her being, that she may be capable of such a thing as killing. But she still couldn’t accept that this aggression had become a part of her, even out of necessity. She felt both empowered by this anger and appalled by it. How strange that one could both fear and respect something at the same time.
Esra was barely aware of Fynn’s fingertips on her cheek as she closed her eyes to welcome the darkness of her eyelids. She let her mind fill with it, until blackness covered everything, leaving no room for thoughts or visions of what had just transpired. She had taken a life, and there was no going back, no matter how much she wished it were a dream.
XXX
Eventually Esra would fall asleep, bruised and aching and sick with grief but with the bitter sweet knowledge that she had successfully completed her first test. As she rested, the Unni-se held a village commune where people could come speak their minds and be heard by their chief. Her Assembly wanted to attend, but Zakai suggested that it may not be a good idea.
“Can we perhaps walk around Shadow Glenn? I would love to see more of it,” Nadia asked hopefully.
“I think not. Ye have caused quite an uproar here, and even with guards I can’t ensure yer safety while wandering about. I hope my people would act with honor, but this is a long-standing feud and unfortunately I cannot predict some people’s actions. As ye have already seen from the poisoned helmet. Feel free te stay here and rest and eat, and I will post as many guards as possible around ye.”
By the time Esra awoke from a hot and restless sleep, she was disappointed to learn that they could not walk around Shadow Glenn. She longed for a distraction from the reality of her situation, from the memory of her blade piercing the midsection of the Valkor. But a hot throbbing in her shoulder reminded her of the dangerous nature of their visit, and she said no more. Fynn tried to distract her by introducing all the herbs in his pack, and she focused on his words with a comforting intensity that blocked out all other thoughts. She was grateful that her mind was disciplined enough to allow her a brief respite from her mental torture.
Zakai returned to their camp at midday with a few other Unnis trailing close behind him. “These are some of my most trusted commanders, and they will accompany us te The Gardens. It’s as much fer yer protection as mine. I find it hard te believe that ye haven’t encountered any Elites on the journey down here, so my guess is that we’ll find some on yer way back.”
The Unni also rode Skycatchers, as they were the largest Horses in the Kin
gdom, and, Esra guessed, the only ones who could possibly support their weight. She watched as Roja and the other Horses in her group greeted the Unni Skycatchers. It was at this interval that Meshok trotted out of the forest and across the open field to Esra.
“There ye are!” She rubbed the Great Wolf’s head briskly. “Ye missed all the excitement! I battled a Valkor and completed my first test.”
Meshok licked her hand in response before sauntering up to one of the Unni guards, who turned to look her with wide eyes. “What’s this, a Great Wolf?’
“Aye, that’s Meshok.”
He bent down so that he could scratch behind the Wolf’s ears. It was a comical sight, this massive Unni warrior petting her furry head with great care. He appeared to be younger, at least by Unni standards, and the hair covering his body had a dark orange hue to it. “We’ve not seen one of her kind in a very, very long time. They were an ally in our fight against Rїvan all those years ago. Brutal warriors, the Great Wolves are, but they don’t usually take te non-Wolves. How did ye ever stumble upon one?”
“Meshok was a gift from my parents. I believe they’ve somehow befriended a pack of them. She’s been with me since she was a pup. And Fynn, the Keeper of Earth, can speak to them.”
He nodded, impressed. “I’m Hadvi.”
“I’m Esra. Pleased to meet ye. Do ye know who else is coming with us?”
“Two other commanders, Mox and a woman named Shova.”
As if on cue the other two guards approached to introduce themselves.
“The name’s Shova, and this ‘ere is Mox,” a middle aged woman offered with a crooked smile. “I’ll be keepin’ all these menfolk in line. Nice bit with the Valkor, by the way.”