by Aaron Hodges
Inken shook her head. “So far, he has not been too receptive to any explanation.
“Can you blame him?”
“No, of course not. But he is not the only one to have lost those he loves,” she paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Eric’s parents were the first victims of his wild magic.”
Enala’s heart twisted in pain. She opened her mouth, but found no words.
Inken nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “You, Gabriel and Eric have much in common. Like it or not, you are linked by tragedy, and will continue, I hope, to fight together on the side of good,” she paused. “You should also know; Eric is determined to put right the debt he feels for Oaksville. That is why he used his magic to bring the rain back to Chole.”
Enala gaped. “What?”
“That was when I knew he was not the demon everyone thought him, and when I decided I wanted to get to know him better,” Inken winked.
Enala stared, lost again for words. Eric may have cursed Gabriel’s town to ruin, but he had saved Chole, her city. How could anyone weigh the two deeds against one another, as great and as awful as they were?
Yet Enala could feel the truth in Inken’s words, that Eric had never meant to harm Oaksville, that he’d had no control over what happened there.
“I’ll try to talk to Gabriel,” Enala finally offered. “But I don’t know if he will listen. The two of them might have to work it out themselves.”
Accident or not, Eric’s magic had still caused the death of Gabriel’s family. Whatever the circumstances, Enala could not blame him for hating the young man. But perhaps the truth might at least open a dialogue between them.
“Agreed,” Inken smiled. “I think us girls had best stay out of this one.”
Enala shot back a sly look. “You really love him, don’t you?”
She saw Inken’s cheeks redden, and laughed. Inken wagged a finger back at her. “That is none of your business, miss. You don’t see me asking about what’s between yourself and Gabriel!”
Enala felt her own cheeks warm. She opened her eyes wide. “Whatever are you talking about?” she asked. “We’re friends, we slept in separate beds and everything.”
Inken laughed. “I’ll bet,” she sniped, but let the subject drop.
They rounded the corner of a building and found themselves at the end of the garden. In the distance the dormitory’s shale roof gleamed in the morning sun. The far-off ring of steel blades carried to their ears. Beside her, Inken straightened and reached for her sabre. Enala edged closer to the woman.
She searched the grassy lawns ahead, her eyes picking out two figures battling in front of the dormitory. They both stopped dead as they recognised the fighters. Gabriel and Eric were locked in furious combat, swords slashing at one another as they stumbled on the icy grass.
Inken moved first, her long legs eating up the distance. Enala trotted after her, reaching out to grab her shoulder. “Wait,” she said, pointing.
Inken tore herself free, but glanced towards where Enala pointed.
Caelin stood nearby, arms folded as he watched the two with an amused grin. Enala could practically hear Inken’s teeth grinding as she switched directions and headed for the sergeant.
Enala could not help but grin. “Like you said, Inken. Maybe they can work it out themselves.”
*************
Eric rubbed his hands against his arms, struggling to warm himself. A shiver ran down his back as the wind whipped past. “What are we doing?” he asked through chattering teeth.
Caelin stood with hands on his hips. “Jurrien paid me a visit this morning. Apparently you need another way to protect yourself, Eric,” he turned to Gabriel. “And I’m sure you could use blowing off a little steam.”
Eric glanced at Gabriel, heart sinking at the mention of Jurrien. The sun shone across the nearby rooftops, but they stood in the shade, the frost still thick at their feet. Eric already missed the gentle warmth of the fire burning in the lounge. The sky shone with the bright blue of morning, without a hint of cloud.
Caelin tossed a long bundle of cloth to the ground in front of them. It rattled as it struck, unravelling to reveal a collection of swords.
“These are practice blades. They’re lead weighted, but the edges and tips have been blunted, so you shouldn’t be able to damage each other too much.”
As he spoke, he drew his own sword and beckoned Eric closer. Eric moved across to him, but stepped back as Caelin flicked the sword into the air and caught it by the blade.
He held it out to Eric. “First though, this is yours, Eric. It saved my life in Malevolent Cove, but I know Alastair would have wanted you to have it. Make him proud.”
Heart pounding in his chest, Eric reached out and gripped the hilt. The worn leather felt warm and the short sword light in his hand. It shone in the morning sun, revealing the faint traces of runes etched in the metal. Eric looked closer, but could not make out the writing. He guessed it must be something to do with the spell on the blade, which protected its user from magic.
Remembering himself, he grinned up at Caelin. “Thank you, Caelin. I will.”
“What did you want with me?” Gabriel asked.
Caelin’s eyes turned on Gabriel. “I thought you might enjoy being Eric’s sparring partner.”
Eric made to object, but Gabriel beat him too it. “Why would I want to help him?”
Caelin met Gabriel’s stare. Eric looked from one to another. “Maybe because we saved you, pulled you from the ocean waters rather than leave you to drown. Or because we rescued Enala, when you had failed her,” Caelin paused, a sly look in his eyes. “Or perhaps you’d just like the chance to land a few blows on the boy.”
Gabriel glared at Caelin, then shrugged his shoulders and approached the pile of weapons. Retrieving a practice blade, he stepped in front of Eric. “Well, let’s see what you’re made of then.”
Eric scowled back. Gritting his teeth, he stepped around Gabriel and found a practice blade of his own. Lifting the heavy weapon, he laid Alastair’s blade by the pile of swords. As he turned to face Gabriel, he drew in a deep breath of cool air. Bracing himself, he walked across the grass and squared off against his foe.
Caelin clapped. “Good! Now, before you begin, let me show you a few things about fighting with the sword,” he picked up a blade for himself and moved between them. “The first thing a good swordsman needs to learn is how to stand in a fight. A true fighter will use any number of stances in a fight to overcome his opponent. Different stances allow you to move in and out of attacking range while maintaining your balance, and without overexposing yourself to an attack. I’m going to show you one or two, and hope that’ll be enough for now.”
He moved his feet so they were shoulder width apart and facing forward, with the right about a foot in front of the left. “This is called a forward stance. It doesn’t matter which foot is in the front, so each time you move you can step straight into this stance. It gives a fighter a solid, balanced base to launch and defend against attacks.”
Eric moved his feet to mimic Caelin’s, feeling awkward with the heavy blade in hand. He followed the soldier’s movements as he drilled them in the basics of thrusts, parries and blocks. Eric immediately began tripping over his own feet as he struggled to obey Caelin’s instructions. His body ached from the brief scuffle the night before, and within his magic felt drained and weak.
He watched Gabriel swinging the practice blade to match Caelin’s movements, a bored smile on his face. His large shoulders wielded the blade with ease, although his movements were slow and somewhat clumsy. Still, Eric could not help but think the power in his swing would leave a nasty bruise.
“Okay, that should be enough for now. How about the two of you show me what you can do,” Caelin stepped back and folded his arms. “The practice blades may be dulled, but you will still need to be careful,” he gave them each a hard stare. “Blows to the head are off-limits.”
Gabriel grinned and raised his blad
e in mock salute. “It’s about time,” he crouched low and crept towards Eric.
Eric wiped sweat from his brow and took a firmer grim of his sword. He kept the tip pointing at Gabriel the way Caelin had shown them, and slid into the forwards stance. After half an hour of practice, it almost felt comfortable. Pushing down his fear, he summoned an arrogance he did not feel, and waved Gabriel forward. “Come on then, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Gabriel grinned, and charged.
Eric held his ground until the last moment, and then ducked beneath Gabriel’s wild swing. He leapt backwards as Gabriel attempted to reverse the cut, lashing out with his own blade to counterattack. The blow went wide, but Gabriel still flinched backwards in surprise.
They eyed each other. Eric smiled, masking his nerves, and motioned Gabriel forward again. The larger man scowled and edged his way to the left. Eric followed him, careful to keep his stance tight. His eyes narrowed as he searched for an opening. He held his sword low, ready to strike when Gabriel moved into range.
Gabriel struck again, more cautious now, aware he could not simply beat his way through Eric’s guard. He slid forward, swinging his blade at Eric’s side in an awkward cut. Eric danced backwards to avoid the blow, then leapt to the attack. His sword snaked out, biting at Gabriel’s thigh.
Stumbling backwards, Gabriel swore and fixed Eric with a glare. Eric did not attempt to pursue his larger opponent, guessing it would be foolish to come within range of Gabriel’s blade. Instead he dropped into a crouch, and waited.
Gabriel bared his teeth. “What, are you afraid?” he spat.
Eric only smiled, refusing to let Gabriel get under his skin.
With a scream, Gabriel charged across the open ground. Eric backtracked, raising his sword to fend off a wild blow. Their blades met with a dull ring and the blade vibrated in Eric’s hand. Pain lanced down his arm as he blocked again. Gabriel was not holding back any longer; each blow carried the full force of his strength.
Ducking beneath a wicked swing, Eric leapt back out of Gabriel’s reach. He brushed a hand through his hair, already feeling the heat of exertion burning off the morning chill. Gabriel paused to do the same, a grin on his face. He was enjoying this.
The break did not last long. Gabriel brought his sword about and returned to the attack. Eric swung to counter, but his feet slipped on the damp grass and his sword went wide. Pain lanced from his side as Gabriel’s weapon struck his hip. Swearing, Eric kicked out, catching Gabriel on the knee. They both stumbled backwards.
Gabriel’s grin widened. “There’s more where that came from.”
Eric did not waste energy replying. He panted heavily, breath fogging the crisp air, the exertions of the night already catching up to him.
This is exhausting! Eric now had a new respect for Caelin’s endurance. He had watched the sergeant take on three men at once while hardly breaking a sweat.
The ache in his hip throbbed in time with the beat of his heart. Cursing his clumsiness, Eric allowed his anger to take hold. He gripped the practice blade tighter, and leapt to the attack.
Gabriel’s eyes widened. He raised his sword in a clumsy block, but Eric’s sword slipped beneath and struck him in the stomach. Gabriel staggered backwards, wheezing as he fought for breath. Eric stepped back, allowing him to recover.
When he did, Gabriel leapt at him with a roar. Eric stood his ground, fighting to hold his own as Gabriel unleashed a string of blows. His arm shook with each clash. He began to retreat, ducking and dodging, while making the occasional attack of his own. Several times Gabriel’s blade snuck through, biting at Eric’s flesh. Within minutes his arms and body stung from the kiss of Gabriel’s sword.
Gabriel kept on, seeming to gain strength with every blow. Swearing, Eric fought on, his strength waning rapidly. His boots grew heavier, his weary legs unable to move with the same speed as earlier. He struggled to keep his blade moving, to jump from the path of Gabriel’s blows. He all but gave up counterattacking.
His foe’s grin widened with each swing. It seemed adrenaline now more than countered whatever fatigue he felt from his time adrift.
At least, even exhausted, Eric still moved faster than his opponent. He found himself studying Gabriel’s movements, watching for the first clench of muscle or flicker in his eyes to reveal his next attack. Gabriel’s bulk made him slow and his inexperience provided more than enough warning for Eric to avoid most of his blows.
Not all of them though, Eric winced as Gabriel’s blade bounced from his own and smashed against his elbow. Arm numb, Eric backed away.
Sensing blood, Gabriel pressed the attack.
Eric swore, feet carrying him to safety as Gabriel’s blade glanced from his shoulder. He lashed out to cover his retreat.
Gabriel knocked the blow aside, contempt on his face. “Not so tough without your magic, are you?” he mocked.
“Least I’m not a bumbling buffoon like you,” Eric snapped back, pain driving his anger.
Gabriel only grinned, and struck again. Eric raised his sword but Gabriel knocked it aside, his shoulder driving into Eric’s chest. The force of the collision knocked the wind from his lungs, sending Eric tumbling across the ground. The sword spun from his grip, landing a few feet from where he lay.
Gabriel laughed and raised his sword over Eric’s head.
Dimly, Eric heard Caelin shouting something. His ears rang, making Caelin’s voice seem distant and frail. He summoned the last of his strength and threw himself from the path of Gabriel’s blade. A soft thud came from behind him as mud sprayed the air.
Gabriel wrenched his blade free of the earth and came after him. Eric gasped for breath, unable to summon the strength to move. The sword appeared overhead, already descending towards his head.
Eric raised an arm over his face in a feeble attempt to protect himself.
Metal shrieked on metal as another blade blocked the blow.
“Enough,” Enala growled. “If you want a real contest, you’ll fight me.”
*************
Enala studied Gabriel and Eric as they fought, wincing each time the heavy blades found flesh. Gabriel’s bulk clearly gave him the edge, but both would have some nasty bruises come tomorrow. She herself was used to the harsh sting of practice blades; her parents had taught her from a young age how to fight. It was a pleasant change to see someone else suffering.
The two young men appeared almost equally incompetent, but she could see Gabriel slowly gaining the advantage. His strength and reach drove Eric backwards, and despite his speed, Enala could see Eric beginning to fade.
She could also see the rage masked behind Gabriel’s eyes, that he would not stop should Eric fall. Moving away from Inken, she walked to the bundle of blades beside Caelin. Retrieving one, she crossed the field to where the fight was drawing to an end.
As Eric fell she leapt forward, her sword flicking out to catch Gabriel’s blow. Her own anger caught light in her chest, rising from the depths of her pain. With everything they faced, how could these two still be fighting one another? A dark tide was sweeping towards them, and their only chance of survival was to stand together.
“Enough,” she growled. “If you want a real contest, you’ll fight me,” it was all she could do to hold back her rage.
“What are you doing?” Gabriel snapped. “You know what he did!”
“I do – you don’t. You don’t have the whole story, so enough of this nonsense. If you had listened to anyone, you would know what truly happened. These people helped me, saved me. Some of them gave their lives for me. And the fight is not done yet. So if you want a piece of Eric, you’ll have to go through me.”
“Get out of my way, Enala. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Enala laughed and swiped out with her sword. The blade rapped across Gabriel’s knuckles. He swore and dropped his weapon.
“Pick it up, and show me what you’re made of.”
Gabriel growled and swept up his blade. He made a few weak swings,
clearly expecting the blows to knock the sword from Enala’s hands. Enala swept them aside with contempt, and then slashed out with her own weapon. Gabriel yelped as it connected with his elbow. The sword slipped from his numb fingers.
“Pick it up,” she nodded to the blade.
Five minutes later Gabriel sat on his knees, gasping for breath and cradling his right arm. Purple marks spotted his skin where bruises had already begun to swell. His sword lay discarded on the ground nearby. He looked up at Enala, hurt in his eyes.
Enala stared down, anger still boiling within. It raged against her restraint, screaming for her to teach Gabriel a lesson. He had almost killed Eric, almost struck him down while he lay unarmed and helpless. What good would that have done any of them? Inexperienced or not, Eric was the only Magicker their little company had left.
She grated her teeth, fingers clenched around the pommel of her sword. The blade trembled in her hand. Pressure swelled in her chest, her frustration bubbling within.
Then she took a deep breath, and it vanished.
Enala stood, panting softly. She felt a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, but otherwise she showed little sign of exertion. Despite Gabriel’s strength and her small size, the blacksmith had not been hard to tame. Gabriel might be brave, but his skill with a sword left a lot to be desired.
Turning, Enala walked back to where Caelin and Inken stood watching and tossed her blade back onto the pile.
“Who trained you to fight like that?” Caelin asked.
Enala shrugged. “My parents. They taught me how to fight when I was young,” she glanced at them. “Perhaps they knew more about all this than they let on.”
“Maybe,” Caelin eyed her closely. “We have a few days here in Lon before the ship can set sail. If you’re interested, I’m sure Inken or myself would be happy to have you as a sparring partner. The Gods know those two aren’t up to it,” he nodded to where Eric and Gabriel still sat nursing their bruises.
Eric laughed as he stood. “Agreed. Gabriel was bad enough,” he held out his hand. “Thank you.”