The Book of Deacon Anthology

by Joseph R. Lallo

  "About time," muttered one of Ayna's former captors as they paced quickly off.

  Ayna drifted after them.

  "You there, Ayna. No, you stay here," Blin instructed. "Much work to be done."

  "But... but you said that the newcomers..." Ayna said breathlessly.

  "I'm sorry. I misspoke. I meant the human newcomers. You'll need a fair amount more work. You can barely manage the drills."

  "At the very least," muttered one of the humans, a thickly muscled brute of a man with dark hair and sunbaked skin.

  "You there!" snapped Blin as he charged up to the offender. "What is your name!"

  He turned. "Martin."

  "The rest of you, gather round. Martin, two paces back and set your sword in the ground."

  "What is this about?" Martin asked.

  "You deem yourself in a position to pass judgment on Ayna?"

  "She is a fairy. It is a mockery to have ever set foot beside her."

  "She is a student," Blin said.

  "She shouldn't be, and even so, I'm hardly a student."

  "Two paces back and set your sword in the ground," Blin said.

  "You mean to spar with me? You just said I was far beyond your level, and you're half my size."

  If anything, it was an understatement. Martin was head and shoulders taller than Blin and at least twice the elf's weight, most of it solid muscle.

  "Then I imagine this demonstration will be brief," Blin said. "Two paces back--"

  "And set my sword. Fine, fine," he said, striding back and embedding the tip of his sword in the dusty ground so that it could stand free.

  Blin did the same.

  "The battle begins when the first of us touches his sword, and ends when the last of us is standing," Blin said. "No other rules."

  "So be it," Martin said.

  Blin stood with his arms crossed, waiting. Martin crouched, hand above the pommel of his sword, waiting for the elf to make his move. When no move came, Martin sneered and snatched his weapon, charging at his opponent. Blin subtly shifted his weight, then crouched and rolled to the side. Martin attempted to stop short, but Blin hooked his leg and sent the larger man crashing to the ground, sword clattering away. In a fluid motion Blin then snatched his own blade from where it stood and swung it in a high arc, slicing until it bit into the earth just a whisper from the neck of his downed opponent. If the weapon had not met the ground when it did, Martin would certainly have lost his head.

  Fury filled the eyes of the downed swordsman, and he scrambled to raise himself from the ground, but Blin planted a knee in the small of Martin's back, twisted the human's arm up between his own shoulder blades, and yanked his head up with the other hand.

  "Size matters little, Martin, and never speak ill of students. This is Entwell. We are all students. The day we stop learning is the day we stop breathing. I say you are well above my level because I have not yet earned the right to teach someone as experienced as you. I have been sparring with the greatest warriors our world has to offer since I could walk." He released his grip and stood. "Now go. All of you. Training begins again tomorrow at dawn, and it will be far more vigorous this time, now that I know your limits."

  Ayna watched the larger man walk sheepishly off, his tail between his legs after being beaten by a much smaller foe. She smiled and hefted her weapon.

  "Size matters little..." she said quietly to herself.

  #

  Ayna trained hard, following every instruction and doing her best to fulfill every request. In the beginning, her performance was pitiful. She was barely able to finish the day's drills and awoke with every muscle aching each morning, but she pressed on. In time, her strength grew, as did her stamina. After two hard weeks, the other students she trained beside moved on to other instructors, leaving her alone with Blin, but he faithfully continued to perform his duty as a teacher, instructing her in proper form and stance.

  Three more weeks passed and she was wielding the rapier with ease, so much so that it was decided she might indeed be ready for her broadsword. True to his word, the blacksmith provided one, having honed the humble piece of bent chain into a suitably heroic weapon. The edge gleamed, the grip was detailed with bits of gold, and there were even chips of ruby set into it. It was a good deal heavier, and with its two-handed grip came a whole new set of drills, but she soldiered on.

  Three more weeks of intense training seemed to satisfy Blin that she could do all that was required of her while her feet were planted. She knew the strikes, the blocks, the thrusts, and parries. She just knew that in theory she'd learned enough of swordsmanship to begin sparring. What had yet to be done, however, was put that knowledge to practical use. It was thus a thrill when Blin told her if she could gather the proper equipment, that phase that would begin the following day. She was off like a blur as soon as he'd said it, determined to have the training pads before the sun set.

  As had been the case with nearly every other step of this task, it was far more complicated for her than it was for someone closer to human size. And as had been the case in each prior example, she refused to let this stumbling block stop her. It would just take a bit more work. And to help her with this work she would reach out to the one person who had stood by her each step of the way.

  "Thank you for helping me, Fiora," Ayna said, holding up a small pad of leather she'd just finished cutting. Due to the relative lack of strong, sharp blades her size, Ayna was forced to use her broadsword to do the cutting.

  "Not at all, Ayna. I'm happy to help," Fiora said, taking the pad and straightening a short length of the thinnest wire they were able to acquire. "It is really rather interesting. I don't know that I've ever made armor before."

  "I asked the outfitter to make me some, but he said he didn't have the tools. Fairies don't wear armor, so he's never had to make any. But Blin said if I can put together some proper armor, I can begin combat drills as early as tomorrow. I can put my sword to proper use. So I had to get some fairy armor somehow."

  "Fairies do tend toward magic," Fiora said. "We're rather well attuned to it. And wizards and sorceresses seldom wear armor."

  She squinted her eyes and the end of the wire began to glow a brilliant red, hissing effortlessly through the leather. She then took the still–cherry-red end in her bare fingers and pushed it through another pad, then twisted the two ends of the wire together into a loop and closed her dainty fingers around the ends. The red glow flared to white and the two ends fused together, forming a tight loop.

  "I don't want to use magic. I don't want to use tricks. People expect us to use tricks, as though we can't do anything more. You are a fine wizard and I admire it, but I want real strength. The sort people like them understand..." Ayna said.

  "You don't need to explain yourself. You know... I think if left to your own devices, you might have been the first fairy to choose to face the Cave of the Beast."

  "Why?" Ayna asked, grunting as she used her sword to rough out another bit of leather.

  "Because it is terrifying, and because when faced with fear, some believe the only way to overcome it is to become what they fear most."

  "I don't understand."

  "I knew a creature once. He was so very filled with fear. All his life he was hunted, hated. People believed him to be a monster, and they wished to destroy him before he could do the same to them. One day he decided, if he was to be a monster, then he would become the most fearsome monster the world had ever seen. So he sought the one beast none had ever defeated, the Beast of the Cave. He wished to learn how the beast took the lives of so many, so that he might do the same. Instead, he found this place."

  "What happened to him?"

  "He became what he hoped to become, a creature of death. Then he returned to face those who would harm those like him. To them, there is no doubt in my mind he had become the thing they feared he always had been."

  "Then you see? If he could do it, then so can I!" she said, handing the last of the pads to Fiora.


  "I have no doubt you can," she said, accepting the pad and linking it to the rest with a fused twist of wire. "But be sure to learn the same lesson he learned. Just because what you seek may not be found where you expect it, that does not mean it cannot be found. It only means you need to keep searching. There, finished." She held up the completed armor.

  What they had crafted could only in the very most generous of terms been called armor. Ayna had cut pads of leather and aligned them a bit like a sparingly built suit of heavy plate mail, with Fiora's metal loops fastening them together. To the eye of a human-sized creature it would have been almost astounding in its delicate precision, but at fairy scale it was bulky and clumsy. The back featured almost no protection at all, as anything more would have interfered with her wings and made her too heavy to fly.

  Eagerly, Ayna climbed into the suit through the open back, threading her arms and legs inside and securing it with two wire hooks. It fit well enough, but to top it off she unveiled the crowning glory, a helmet made from the fingertip of a genuine suit of armor. Once outfitted her vision was limited to two holes Fiora had melted through it for her. Fumbling a bit, she found her sword and buzzed her wings up to speed. It took every ounce of strength she had just to get herself airborne. Her wings were a blur, and in seconds her face was red from the effort, but she raised her sword skyward in defiance.

  "Tomorrow," she huffed, "Steel will clash with steel!"

  #

  "What do you mean I can't begin combat!?" Ayna cried in dismay, stomping her foot on the fencepost that had spent so much time as her training ground.

  "Until now you've done your drills without armor. Look at you. You were barely able to reach the top of the fencepost. Just as you had to build the strength to come this far, now you must do it all again while in full gear," Blin explained.

  "But Blin, I... if I must learn again to fight with armor on, then at least let me fight once with the armor off. I need to prove I can do this!"

  "Ayna, it wouldn't be safe," Blin said.

  Ayna looked around. Her agitated outburst had begun to attract a small crowd of students training nearby. The sight of a fairy in full armor was more than enough of a curiosity to draw their interest, and the angrier Ayna got the more attention she drew. Some wore faces of quiet interest, the sort of expression any spectator might have when presented with a fascinating event. More than a few looked instead as though they were watching a farce, reveling in the absurdity and looking eagerly forward to forthcoming humiliation. She turned back to her teacher, fighting back the tears of embarrassment and disappointment.

  "You fought Martin with no armor!" Ayna said.

  "That is different, Ayna. Martin is closer to my size, and--"

  "You said size matters little!"

  "It matters little, Ayna, but it does matter," he said. "You've shown great promise and dedication as a student. I'm proud to have you as an apprentice. If there was any other student near to your size, I would gladly oversee--"

  "I don't want to fight someone my size. Warriors do not earn glory and respect by fighting others their own size! I will be a mighty warrior, as mighty as any that you or anyone else has ever trained. I will fight anyone, and I will do it on their terms. I..." Her voice cracked and she was thankful that her helmet hid her tears from the onlookers. "I'll prove it to you. I challenge you! Tomorrow! Last one standing is the winner!"

  "Ayna," he said gently. "I can't--"

  "Do you concede then? Are you afraid to face me? Afraid I'll make a fool of you? Are you a coward?"

  "Of course not," he said, sharpness in his gaze and tone.

  She swept the tip of her blade around, indicating the growing crowd. "If any of these other students challenged you, would you deny them?"

  "I wouldn't, but--"

  "Then you will treat me with the same respect. I am your student. Your apprentice! You will give me the same chance as any of them." Her voice was shaking with righteous fury. She could feel the potent mix of emotions coursing through her. "Anything less is disrespect to me and dishonor to your position as a teacher!"

  Ayna fluttered her wings madly, rising from the post and darting to his face. She channeled every last scrap of strength she had into making it look as though she was not struggling.

  "Now what is your answer?" she demanded, pointing her sword at his nose.

  "Very well."

  "Then I will see you tomorrow at this time. Come prepared. I know I will," she said.

  With that Ayna flitted off toward the trees. She drifted as far as she could manage, making sure that she was well away from any who might have witnessed her challenge, then rather gracelessly crashed through the foliage of a tree and thumped down on a branch, completely exhausted. Gasping for breath, she wrenched the helmet from her head and set it down on the branch. Her mind and muscles burned. Right now she couldn't make her way back to the tree that had become her home if she wanted to. More than an hour passed before she felt as though she was strong enough to fly again, but her mind and heart were still racing.

  Thoughts poured through her head of what she'd done and what she was going to do. Blin had made short work of a man who was more than ten times her height and likely hundreds of times her weight. He'd come within a hair of taking the man's head. What would that mean for her? No! She could not think that way. She'd trained long and hard. Weeks of practicing, of growing stronger. She knew the basics. He had taught her the tactics. And he himself admired her skill. Surely desire had to play a role in a battle. Surely she wanted the victory more. She had the spirit, she had the determination. She could win. No... no, she would win.

  Her mind continued to tip back and forth between terror and confidence until a voice broke through.

  "Ayna?"

  It was Fiora, her gentle voice lilting through the leaves as she approached. Ayna glanced down at her blade. In the polished edge she could see that her face was streaked with tears. Hastily, she grabbed her helmet and pulled it on. The elder fairy parted some leaves and touched down on the branch beside her.

  "I heard what happened," Fiora said.

  "And I suppose you're here to convince me not to do it."

  "Heavens no. I've lived among fairies for over a century. I of all people know not to argue with one who has made up her mind. I think maybe my late husband Duncan is the only one who learned that lesson better than I." She shook her head. "The things I made that man put up with..."

  "But you don't think I can do it," Ayna said.

  "You are a student in Entwell. I believe you can do anything. I simply do not believe you are ready. You are a bit too eager to prove yourself, and a bit too quick to believe that others think little of you. Though I know little of the art of war, I would say you could benefit from some more training, some more conditioning. But more than that, I believe you could benefit from some soul searching. You need to make your mind up about yourself."

  "What do you mean?"

  "How do you feel about you? Who are you trying to convince by doing this? The other students? Your teacher? Or do you feel you need to become something you are not because you aren't happy with who you are? We are happy to help you become anything you believe you should be, but without fail our most successful residents are those of sought to become the best version of themselves." Fiora placed her hand on Ayna's. "I'll be watching you tomorrow. Good luck to you."

  Fiora rose from the branch and took her leave. After a few more moments of grappling with her thoughts and the words of her mentor, Ayna flitted off toward home.

  #

  When the sun rose the next day, Ayna set off toward her training ground. It had been a night of fitful sleep, but as she had watched the sky brighten to the east she knew that there was nothing that could stop her from going through with this bout. Perhaps she would win, perhaps she would lose. Perhaps she might even be killed. The one thing that was certain was if she did not show her face, it would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that everyone who believed she co
uld not be a warrior would be correct. She would face Blin. There were no two ways about it.

  Once she had donned her suit of armor, she clutched her sword in one hand and her helmet under the other arm and set off.

  As she fluttered toward the soon-to-be battleground, resting frequently to be sure she was not exhausted from simply hauling her heavy armor, she noticed something peculiar. The clearing was much more crowded than usual. As she landed on a high branch to catch her breath before one final flit toward her fencepost, it became clear the word had spread. The little courtyard where Blin did his teaching was the center of a sizable cluster of spectators. Not only were many of the students who had trained beside her standing around the fencepost awaiting her arrival, others she'd never seen before and even people from as far as Wizard's Side were present as well.

  Anya felt her heart flutter nervously in her chest, but at the same time a smile came to her face. When was the last time a crowd gathered to watch a fairy do anything? This was it. This was the beginning of her legend. No one would ever mistake her for a simple fairy again, a creature to be snared and sold like a tool. She donned her helmet. Today she was a warrior.

  She leaped from the branch and buzzed her wings, extending the leap and controlling it rather than actually taking flight. After a well-guided drop, she landed heavily on the fencepost and drove her sword into it, standing tall and proud. The crowd of onlookers stirred a bit with her arrival.

  "I stand ready for battle!" she proclaimed.

  There was another quiet stir from the crowd. Not the rousing cheer of support she'd been hoping for, but still encouraging. Blin slid from the crowd. He was wearing light training armor and carried an odd sword. Thin and reed-like, it was made from a flexible wood that wobbled with the breeze. Her smile grew larger as the elf failed to produce any similar reaction from the crowd, save a few greetings. The people were on her side. And why wouldn't they be? She was the one fighting the odds. She was the one taking a stand. She was the true warrior.