“It’s not going to work, Brune,” said Tjaden flatly. Although he wanted to punch Brune, punch all three of them, he maintained control. “Let the bird go and I’ll leave.”
“Why should we? You’re too scared to do anything about it.” Brune bumped Tjaden with his chest.
Tjaden stood his ground and stared back. His calm confidence must have worked because eventually Brune said, “Let it go yourself.”
He strode uffishly away with his silent backup trailing. Without turning around Brune said, “You’re lucky you’ll be fighting in the boys group at the Swap and Spar, or else you’d have to fight me.”
Once they were gone Ollie emerged from his hiding place in the underbrush and asked, “Why didn’t you fight them? Even without my help you could…” he paused in thought, “thoroughly thrash those three thugs.”
“’A soldier’s first opponent is himself,” Tjaden quoted. “If he can master himself he cannot be defeated.” His oldest brother was a soldier and this was one of his lines that Tjaden tried to live by.
“I want to be a soldier just as bad as you do,” Ollie said.
Tjaden paused as he untied the frightened borogove, wondering when Ollie had decided that. “Not just a soldier, Ollie. An Elite.” The skinny bird burst out of Tjaden’s hands, honking as it escaped through the thin canopy.
“The point is, the more you fight now the better you’ll be,” Ollie insisted. “Persistent practice produces proficient prowess.”
“Nice one,” Tjaden said insincerely. “How about this one: Start with self-mastery. Swordplay second.”
“No! Horrible!” said Ollie, cringing. They scrambled through the trees to the wagon. “You stick to staves and leave the clever sayings to me.”
“Is that what you were doing in the bushes? Trying to come up with something witty to say to Brune?”
“I was preparing an ambush. If a fight broke out I could’ve taken them by surprise,” Ollie said. “I know you always want to charge ahead, sword a-swingin’, but I prefer to use my brain in a fight.”
Tjaden knew there was some truth to what he said, but didn’t admit it. “That’s great. When I’m an Elite and I choose you to be my Fellow, I’ll take comfort in the fact that you’re always thinking. Might not be fighting, but at least you’ll be thinking.”
Their banter was disturbed by someone yelling behind them. They turned to look up the dirt road and saw a petite figure running toward town. It was Lily, Elora’s sister, and she was moving fast.
“Tjaden!” shouted Lily.
“What’s the matter?” he yelled, jogging toward her.
“It’s Elora.”
Tjaden picked up his pace and quickly reached the gasping girl. “Is she alright?” he asked.
“No! She slipped by Twinnig falls, she’s stuck, on a ledge,” Lily said between breaths.
Tjaden started moving uproad, a sick feeling stinging his stomach. “Is she hurt?”
“No she’s just stuck,” Lily blurted in one breath.
Over his shoulder Tjaden shouted, “Ollie, tie the horses then go to the shed and get some rope. Lily, keep running into town and get your brother and dad.”
Practically sprinting the half mile to Twinnig Falls, Tjaden was out of breath by the time he arrived. Though he called for Elora, there was no reply and his stomach sank even further. Rushing to the cliffside, he peered over.
Elora was ten paces below him on a large ledge, thirty paces above the rapidly moving river. She should have seen him, but she wouldn’t look up or answer. Her skin was as pale as the rapids, and her eyes were wide as she stared upstream at the cliff edge.
Even though he knew something was wrong, relief filled him, as it always did when he saw her. His gaze leapt to the spot she was staring at, but he didn’t see anything at first. After concentrating he noticed a slight discoloration, something unnatural in the foliage. Looking closer he saw a figure moving on two legs along the edge of the scrub oak. It was shaped somewhat like a man, but had the legs and hooves of a goat giving it a forward, sprythe appearance. Though he’d never seen one, he recognized the bandersnatch.
Tjaden cast about for a weapon and saw a four foot stick. It wasn’t straight, and was a little too thick, but his choices were limited. Reaching for the weapon, he examined the creature. The bandersnatch was the size of a large man. It was dried alfalfa green and overly muscled. It had claws like a bear and thick spikes lay flat down the center of its spine. Yet, it was not nearly as fearsome as all the stories said. However, in the stories the bandersnatches were always frumious. This one just looked curious.
The beast watched Elora as it moved smoothly to the lip of the cliff. It was on the upper ledge, upstream from where Tjaden stood. He was relieved that a steep incline separated it from the lower ledge where Elora watched, petrified. But the creature was not deterred. It loped down the sheer cliff as easily as a cat climbs a tree, not taking its eyes off of its prey.
Tjaden didn’t hesitate. He swung his legs over the edge and plunged down the incline, landing sprawled on the ledge between Elora and the bandersnatch. The creature paused. It rose sharply and cocked its head, peering at the new target. The bandersnatch made an evil purr as it studied Tjaden.
The beast tensed and in an instant it lunged forward so fast Tjaden barely had time to jut his makeshift staff in front of him like a lance. The bandersnatch covered the distance instantaneously, colliding full force with the outstretched staff. The impact knocked Tjaden backward, bringing him close enough to Elora for her to steady him. If not for the strength from daily work with tools, Tjaden would’ve lost his grip on the weapon.
Elora shrieked, the bandersnatch wailed, but Tjaden was too stunned by the speed of the beast to make a sound. The bandersnatch clutched its wounded chest and as its breathing got faster it seemed to swell in size. A sinister red stain spread from trunk to limbs, accenting the creature’s green skin. The dull eyes flared the color of fresh blood, and the elongated spines on its back protruded menacingly.
So this is what they mean by frumious, Tjaden thought.
He didn’t wait for the animal’s frenzy to mount further. He lunged forward swinging his club. In one motion the frumious brute crouched and sprung into the air, passing completely over Tjaden. Spinning, Tjaden reflexively raised his staff to defend himself as the monster’s claws swept toward him. The blow was deflected, but the swipe left gouges in his staff.
Tjaden used the momentum of the blow to spin around and swing his weapon like an axe. The bandersnatch was caught off guard and the blow struck it on the shoulder. It howled and Tjaden again took the offensive. The beast continued to swell with rage under the intense attack. Tjaden attempted blow after blow, but the bandersnatch moved too quickly for him to do any serious damage. It was waiting as it dodged, the malevolent purr interspersed with threatening snarls.
Between strikes, the bandersnatch dove at Tjaden’s legs and they both sprawled toward the lip of the ledge. The staff skidded away from Tjaden as he slammed into the rocky ground. Landing on his back beneath the monster he instinctively grabbed its leathery head. As Tjaden tried to wrench the head from its shoulders, the creature slashed his arms with razor claws.
The combination of blood and intense pain made Tjaden’s stomach lurch. His arms began to lose strength and his grip weakened in the slick blood. He was about to lose his grip when he saw Elora looming behind the bandersnatch. The staff was raised high above her head.
With a spark of fire in her dark brown eyes that matched the maleficent glow in the bandersnatch’s, she struck the monster squarely in the back. Tjaden heard a sound like dry limbs snapping as two of its spiny protrusions were crushed.
Its red eyes flared and it reared back, freeing its head from Tjaden’s grasp. It continued slashing and Tjaden could scarcely hold his arms up to protect his head and body. Elora’s assault wasn’t enough to divert the beast’s attention.
She swung again, this time connecting with the creature’s head ex
actly where a human’s ear would be. Blood gushed from the wound. It howled and sprung to its feet turning instantly to face Elora.
Tjaden was wounded but free, but the bandersnatch’s attention was back on Elora. From his position on the ground he kicked at the bandersnatch’s legs, but it was too strong to care. Elora held the staff, but Tjaden knew she couldn’t fend off the beast.
He scrambled to a crouch, ready to tackle the bandersnatch, when he heard a low whistle followed by a phwap. Tjaden was surprised to see an arrow protruding from the creature’s midsection.
As it glanced down at the lodged projectile another arrow phwapped into its right shoulder. Covered in red rage, the frumious bandersnatch bellowed and retreated. It sprinted up the steep slope, angling away from Tjaden’s father, and disappeared into the trees.
Without thinking Tjaden rose and pursued it, but didn’t have a chance of climbing the sheer cliff. Next to his father at the top of the ridge, stood a stunned Ollie.
Before Elora reached him, Tjaden had a moment to feel embarrassed about needing help. He had a chance to save Elora’s life, but had failed. Someone else had come to her rescue.
The moment of regret was interrupted as Elora encircled him in a tight embrace. She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder. The battle and the pain were momentarily forgotten. He’d never held a girl so closely, much less this particular girl. Though almost too exhausted to stand, he held her trembling body until she noticed the blood seeping through their clothes, and pulled back to look at him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, but you are,” Elora replied, helping him to the ground. Her hands quivered as she examined his wounds, but even though she was shaken up, her words were steady. “The blood’s flowing, not spurting. You’re lucky.” Despite the menace they had faced, he did feel lucky to be there with her.
The gashes were on the outside of his forearms, so no major vessels had been cut, but blood flowed steadily from many of the wounds. After wiping excess blood with her blouse, she tore strips from his linen shirt and wrapped his arms to staunch the bleeding. Only after the third layer did the blood stop seeping through the bandages. Through it all, Elora kept her composure.
More than ever, Tjaden was smitten.
His father lowered a rope and Tjaden tied it around Elora’s waist and legs, trying not to wince with each motion of his arms. After she was raised, the rope was lowered again and he secured himself. Once he reached safety, his father embraced him for the first time in years. Tjaden felt his father’s heart racing.
“What are you doing here, Father?”
“I passed Lily on the road. She told me Elora was in trouble so I ran.” Tjaden had never been so grateful for his father’s habit of carrying his bow whenever he was mome.
After making sure the two were able to make the trip, they started home. Tjaden put one arm around Elora, and his father nocked an arrow, staying on guard for the frumious beast.
Before long they met Elora’s anxious parents and brother on the road. She embraced each of them in turn, and finally let her tears flow. They held her firmly as sobs of relief racked her body. When she was able to control her tears, she told them the entire story.
Tjaden listened, feeling both exhilarated at her obvious pride and uncomfortable with the abundant praise. After all, he wasn’t the real hero.
*****
The whole town knew before the day was out that Tjaden and Elora had survived an encounter with a frumious bandersnatch, if only for a short while. Methos, the town physician, was first to hear the account. He listened while sewing up half a dozen gashes in each of Tjaden’s arms, using over one hundred and fifty stitches. By the time Tjaden, his father, and Ollie left Methos’ workshop, people in the street tried to stop them to hear the tale.
Dozens of people found reasons to come by the orchard over the next few days. Sami Thatcher decided to return the awl he had borrowed two years previous. Coles and Hettie, the bakers, came a day early for lemons. Galla, the town gossip, didn’t even have a reason; she just wanted to hear the story. Each went away highly disappointed after finding his father as reticent as ever, and Tjaden unwilling to brag.
In truth, Tjaden wished nobody had learned about it. The fuss bothered him. For one thing he was embarrassed at being unable to defend Elora by himself. She was mere heartbeats away from death because he had failed.
Every time someone else came to the farm, Tjaden shuddered. He just wanted to work the days away with his father until the upcoming Swap and Spar. His goal was to be a soldier in the King’s Elite and there wasn’t anyone in town who could gab him one step closer to the Academy.
The day after the attack, his father had asked if Tjaden was up to working. Tjaden said he could manage and that was the last time it came up. They went through their daily routine, working from sunup to sundown, ignoring the interrupting townsfolk as much as possible. The days were growing shorter, so they had to fit more work into less daylight.
Working alongside his father, Tjaden felt like a child. He thought he should be strong and fast enough to keep pace, but a half century of working in the orchards made it second nature for his father. Though Tjaden was growing, it wasn’t fast enough to suit him.
When Ollie worked with him, Tjaden could tell his own speed and proficiency had increased immensely. He never tried to push Ollie or tell him what to do. He just picked up the tools and went to work and Ollie usually followed his example.
With the exception of the swelling tide of gossip, the days leading up to the Swap and Spar passed uneventfully. The evening before the festivities, Tjaden went with his father into town to add his name to the list of pugilists.
The innkeep, Tellef, sat at a worn table in the day room of his inn taking names. In his younger days, as Tjaden often heard, he was a frequent Swap and Spar champion. Now middle aged and big bellied, the only reason he entered the battle circle was to referee. “Mikel,” he greeted warmly. “Are you going to put wood to bone and teach the young men what it means to strike staves?”
“No,” his father said with a chuckle. He was close to Tellef’s age and hadn’t entered the tournament for years. “Tjaden will be the only one from the family competing this year.”
“Jolan and Hannon are going to fight, aren’t they?” Tjaden asked.
“Yes, I suppose your brothers will compete. But they’ll be in the men’s group.”
“As will I,” stated Tjaden, feeling his heart race.
“Have you reached sixteen years already, lad?” asked Tellef.
Tjaden was resolute. “The older group is open to anyone, and I choose to compete against men.”
His father took Tjaden aside a few steps and said, “You know you could easily best any boy in town at staves.”
Tjaden nodded.
His father continued. “And you have to win the competition for the King’s Legate to consider you for the Academy. You’re a natural with the staff, Son, but there’s more than one man in town that might give you more than you can handle.”
“I’ll be sixteen in less than a fortnight, Father. I don’t think it’s fair for me to compete against boys anymore.” His father listened intently. “Besides, the Legate won’t be impressed by someone who beats kids. By winning the open competition I can prove myself.”
“And what about the stitches?”
“My arms are practically healed.” Tjaden slapped each forearm for emphasis. Pain betrayed the lie, but Tjaden tried to keep the wince from his face.
They stared at each other in silence. He wasn’t surprised by his father’s doubt, after the bandersnatch incident, but Tjaden knew he could compete with anyone in Shey’s Orchard.
“My son will compete in the open competition,” he told Tellef without looking away.
Tjaden smiled. And I’m going to win.
*****
The first day of the Swap and Spar started with vending, trading, and crafting, and ended with an auction. Tjaden, Mikel, and Lira
spent most of the day selling grapefruit, oranges, and honey. They sold more than usual to the steady stream of townsfolk intent on hearing Tjaden’s account first hand. He tried to deflect the questions before folk from outlying towns overheard and started rumors of their own.
Tjaden volunteered to pick up the glass his father had ordered for a framed mirror he was making for Mother.
“I need a break from all these questions,” he explained.
His father handed him the coins with a knowing smile and Tjaden rushed to find the mirror maker’s booth. His excitement peaked when he saw Elora tending it. She was singing quietly to herself while polishing a large mirror.
The small booth was lined with dozens of mirrors and he could see Elora’s beautiful face from every angle. As always, the sight of her made him feel ten feet tall. If I could only talk to her without sounding like a fool.
She must have seen his reflection because she turned and their eyes met, his quickly falling to the ground. Her dark hair, smiling eyes, and wide grin always made him comfortable and nervous at the same time. He could make it through life as happy as a tove under a sundial if he could see just that smile once in a while.
“How are your arms?” Elora asked, reaching for one arm at a time and inspecting them both carefully.
“They’re fine,” Tjaden said, flushing. He’d stopped bandaging them, but wore long sleeves to avoid drawing attention. Judging by the stares he’d received all day, covering his arms only added to the intrigue.
Elora pulled up the cotton sleeves and softly traced the rows of stitches in each wound. The tingle her finger sent up his arms and down his spine made Tjaden blush even more deeply.
“When will you remove the thread?” she asked.
“After the sparring tomorrow. If I got hit after taking them out it would break them wide open again.”
As Elora finished inspecting his arms she said, “Tjaden, I didn’t thank you for saving me.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
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