by A. Evermore
‘Never overreach. Oh, and never jump for you will have no balance. Keep your moves simple. Whilst spinning may look fancy, death does not, so don’t do it. Leave that to the court jesters you humans so love to entertain you. Only use the moves you learnt in practice and don’t introduce anything new, any mistakes will prove fatal. If you keep things simple you will also conserve energy. Practice as you would fight because this is how you will fight when it comes to the real thing.’ He took their weapons and carried them back to the smith.
‘Hey I’m not done yet!’ she called, still puffing as he hung them back up.
‘Fighting is dangerous,’ he came back out, ‘which is why we will be using these,’ he held up two similar sized crude wooden children’s swords with a grin.
‘Though you are untrained you can still kill me with that sword. Never underestimate your enemy, no matter how weak or defenceless they may seem,’ he winked.
He tossed her one of the swords and she caught the hilt, surprising herself, ‘Ya-hah! But there appears to be a lot to learn,’ she mused.
‘Indeed. But you have to start somewhere. Just enough to protect yourself or at least know how to swing a sword will make any attacker think twice. It may be enough to save your life,’ Grast’anth said.
‘Hopefully I can be more than that,’ she said and he laughed.
I want to be great with a sword, imagine that! The most feared sword master in all the land. The Maphraxies run in terror just from the sight of me. She laughed, now that did sound ridiculous. Was it not bloodthirsty too? Do I want to be feared? Just to swing a sword would be good!
‘Now, prepare yourself for the fight,’ he said, grasping the pathetic wooden sword in his huge meaty hands. It looked so small in his grasp.
She set her chin firm, centred herself, gripped the warm wooden sword similarly.
‘Your sword tip should be pointing towards your opponent and your body angled towards them so your chest mass is reduced, protecting your vital organs as much as you can. Feel your sword as an extension of yourself, have awareness of your weapon and of your enemy’s, but remain relaxed and ready to strike.’
He held his sword towards her; his size was daunting but it would do no good to feel intimidated. She focused on stilling her thoughts and increasing her awareness again. His big muscles were taut and coiled tight like a cat ready to leap. He angled his sword slightly and lunged towards her, it was enough to tell her which way his sword would slash.
Swiftly she stooped aside and back to the right as his sword swung left, narrowly missing her. She sprung upright and stabbed with her sword before he had finished his swing but lost her balance and fell forwards straight into him. Her head smacked against his hard chest and everything spun for a moment. He laughed helping to steady her. Nothing could be done for her dignity.
‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,’ she said, swiftly losing all visions of battle glory, her face hot and annoyingly sweaty.
‘Nonsense,’ he said still chuckling, he didn’t even look hot despite his fur. ‘You were quick and if you had a knife in your other hand I might have been a goner from such a close range. You took me by surprise, there was no way I could have hit you with my sword. Remember, use all the tricks, even mistakes can have hidden blessings. Every part of your sword and body is a weapon, not just the blade. Now, again!’
They took their stances again. She went in to attack first but he moved with lightning speed. I thought I was supposed to be the smaller quicker one? He swiped, forcing her to leap to the left where she stumbled on a rock and then took a gentle slap on her hip from his returning blow.
‘Argh, stupid rock!’ she kicked it away.
‘Again,’ he said, unperturbed.
I must be the worst student he has ever had, she thought dismally.
They took their stances again and again but every time she tried to land a blow he either deflected it or he simply was not there. She lost count how many times she was sent sprawling, but one thing she did have was determination, or stubbornness, and she refused to give up.
He swiped again, she dodged and as she did so he pushed her over with his other hand.
‘Is that allowed?’ she growled, sitting up and spitting out sand. He only shrugged.
‘All’s fair. Again!’
She leapt and dodged and swung her sword until sweat poured out of her body, which was lucky, she thought, because it hid the tears of absolute frustration on her face. Why can’t I land just one blow? She wanted to scream and cry and hated herself for her incompetence and yet her face remained impassive, she would not show her opponent her thoughts; he must not know her emotions and weaknesses. After half an hour her muscles ached and burned like molten lead.
‘We should rest,’ he said, a slight frown of concern on his face. She was panting and hot and drenched in sweat.
‘Never!’ she growled.
He shrugged again and took his stance.
In a final effort she tried to parry his blow but the force of it sent shock waves up her arms and she fell exhausted into him. He steadied her again as she got her breath back.
‘We should stop, I think, we can do more tomorrow,’ he sounded concerned.
She avoided looking into his dark eyes. Leaning on his arm the size of a tree trunk she looked up and was dismayed to find she had collected a bit of an audience. Men and women and children, maybe half the village, had crowded round to watch the duelling. Mortified she spotted Coronos and Asaph in the crowd. The sun was virtually gone from the sky now, sunk beneath the trees. There was at best only an hour of sunlight left and the birds and animals were busy scurrying around before the day closed and the creatures of the night came out.
‘No, not yet, more,’ she said hoarsely. I must do this! She straightened and moved away from him, forcing her legs not to shake, smoothing her hair back from her wet face, willing her muscles to obey, ignoring as best she could the crowd behind her.
‘What you lack in experience you double in determination, girl,’ he laughed, nodding with respect.
‘Girl?’ she said incredulously and lunged for him once more. She caught him unawares but he was dismally quick in responding to the unexpected and again she had to dodge his parry-turned-attack.
She focused on bringing back that centre of calm and awareness she had somehow let go in her desire to land a blow. She studied him intently looking for any sign of weakness. They circled each other. He stepped with complete confidence, his eyes sparkling but face expressionless. Use that then, she thought, turn his confidence into a weakness. Licking her lips she pondered the next move.
She lunged at him once more, as she had done so many times before, but this time a fraction slower. Let him think I am very tired, and though she was tired she still had fight left within her. He struck, she let him knock her sword down but removed the momentum of his force by pretending to stagger. Instead of regaining her feet she used the momentum to throw herself forward. She moved with lightning quickness and tucked into a tight roll that sent her between and under his front hooves.
She slashed upwards at his exposed belly before he could rear up out of reach. She hit him hard, knowing the wooden sword would not hurt him, but telling him she had disembowelled him nonetheless. She rolled sideways to her feet. He was laughing loudly. She brushed the dirt from her clothes, smiling sheepishly as the crowd cheered and clapped. Grast’anth bowed to her and then embraced her in a rough hug.
‘I’ve not had that much fun since I was a pupil myself, and never with a human. We should practice more tomorrow and the next day. Though today was hard it will get easier, believe me,’ he said. She gave a noisy sigh, glad it was over and she could rest her aching muscles.
She smiled at the crowd and caught Asaph’s handsome face grinning back as he clapped with the others. She looked away shyly.
‘Well I only got in one blow and it took me many lives to get that far,’ she said.
‘It’s a good start. You must know yourself an
d learn how you fight, what your style is, what your weaknesses are. And you can only do that with practice.’ With an arm over her shoulder he led her back to the smithy.
‘The final lesson of today is look after your weapon. If you keep your weapon in good condition it will keep you in good condition,’ Grast’anth bent down into a bucket by the anvil and threw a wet cloth. The soggy thing hit her shoulder with a slap.
‘Ugh!’ she laughed as the water slopped down her front. She wiped the sweat off the wooden sword. Grast’anth passed her a mug of water and they both drank noisily.
‘Thank you for training me. I have a few coins, I can pay you for your lessons.’
‘No need,’ he said simply, ‘it has been an honour to teach once more. Maybe I’ll take it up again and teach these young rascals how to fight properly,’ he gestured at the karalanth children still chasing each other but now joined by two more smaller ones that struggled to keep up. ‘Besides, what use is gold to us here?’ Grast’anth gestured to the forest. Issa raised her eyebrows with a nod.
‘We karalanths have been too long hidden; we have become soft and weak. I hoped all my life that I would one day see my homeland, but now I doubt I will live to see that day.’
‘All things are possible,’ Issa murmured, still feeling that hard determination that had kept her fighting for hours.
Grast’anth gave a deep bark of a laugh. ‘As you say missy, I hope you are right.’
Her hard determined look softened into a smile under his gaze. She felt rather than saw Asaph’s approach, a kind of fiery field of energy. For a moment her eyes had tuned of their own accord into the Flow and though she did nothing she could see Asaph exactly as she had felt him; fiery energy. The fire of the sun, of dragons, of the sun goddess Feygriene. She wondered what hers looked like for it was difficult to see your own.
‘Looks like you need another wash,’ Asaph grinned.
Within his blue eyes she glimpsed the dragon as it stirred, no more than a shady image but enough to make her look away. It unnerved her, knowing that he was part dragon part human. She didn’t know quite how she felt about it. She remembered only a dreamlike image of a great golden dragon swooping down to lift her from the bloody waters surrounded by Maphraxies. Coronos had told her what happened as she recovered in bed, but most of what he said was a blur in her memories of that day.
She looked down at her filthy sweaty clothes, ‘And I’d only just put them on!’ she said in dismay.
Dragon spawn. That is what Keteth had called him. Freydel had spoken at length about the great Dragon Lords of Drax, the mighty dragon kingdom of the north, and how Baelthrom crushed it over twenty-five years ago. Asaph was a Draxian and his parents had been killed by Maphraxies, but other than that she knew nothing of his past or anything about his life, there had not been time to speak of such things.
‘And you have recovered well to move like that,’ he added, impressed.
‘It may have looked like it but now I feel like I’ve been trampled by a hundred horses!’ she stretched her arms and winced. Her old wounds complained as well. ‘Maybe I have overdone it,’ she grimaced, ‘and another wash is definitely in order,’ she smiled up at him.
‘Would you like me to accompany you again?’ he asked grinning wolfishly.
‘If you can find some soap and carry my towel, then maybe,’ she said, her cheeks growing hot.
A female karalanth came over to them. She could only have been a few years older than Issa and had light brown hair, golden eyes and a handsome but hard face. She was dressed in a huntress’s leather top, a bow slung across her toned torso and a large quiver of arrows strapped horizontally on her back. There was a two inch scar on her left shoulder. She had the look and hardiness of a warrior.
‘I saw you fight, you fought well. Grast’anth was one of the best amongst us once. If you want I can teach you the bow,’ she said in a soft voice, belying her tough-looking exterior.
‘I’d love to. Anything I can learn between now and…’ Issa trailed off, wondering what she meant. They would have to leave this peaceful safe place one day, probably soon, and she didn’t want to go. ‘Anything I can learn will be great. But can we try tomorrow? I can barely lift my arms,’ she said wearily, wiping a dirty hand across her forehead only to leave a bigger smear of dirt. Grast’anth put an arm around the karalanth woman’s shoulders.
‘Rhul’ynth is one of the best shots we’ve ever had,’ he said proudly.
She blushed and immediately looked ten years younger, ‘I don’t know about that Gra,’ she said fingering the string of her bow, ‘it was only the other day I missed the rabid boar by a long shot, got it in a right temper too.’
‘Bah, you women,’ Grast’anth barked humorously, ‘you only missed because Dar startled the thing. Your next shot took the beast down in a second!’
Issa wondered at that. She saw them eat no meat but then they had hunters, and killed boars and wore leather and slept on furs. But then deers were herbivores and these were deer-folk.
‘Do you eat boars?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Woetala bless us no!’ Rhul’ynth said aghast, her golden eyes wide in horror, ‘we kill the sick and lame and sometimes use their skins. Their sicknesses spread to us so we must. That boar was sick and making more like it sick. It was sick because of the foltoy spreading disease.’
She saw the frown on Issa’s and Asaph’s faces and glanced at Grast’anth who only shrugged.
‘They are Baelthrom’s minions, immortals. They were once some beast or another but now are giant black cat-like bear-like creatures that walk on two legs, or four if they run. They are unnaturally fast, unnatural in every way really. On two legs they stand higher than a man’s antlers. Watch out for them, they kill and eat anything, even if they are not hungry,’ she said with a shudder. ‘They sometimes come into our village so we hunt them to keep them away.’
In her mind’s eye Issa pictured what Rhul’ynth described, huge slathering beasts with cruel but intelligent eyes and wicked sharp teeth for ripping into flesh. She looked nervously to the woods half expecting them to jump out.
‘The immortals take many forms,’ Issa murmured, Rhul’ynth snorted and nodded.
‘Come, ladies, tonight is a night of celebration, the Feast of Ax’anth, not a time to talk of our foul enemies,’ Grast’anth said putting his arms around them both.
Both Issa and Asaph looked at him with raised eyebrows, ‘A celebration?’ they asked in unison as they all walked back into the village.
‘Wow,’ they said in unison, staring at all the bright flowers adorning the huts and rows of tables placed either side of the path through the village. Big baskets of forest fruits and flowers and strange brown and orange mushrooms sat beneath the tables ready to be displayed or cooked or something.
‘They’ve done all this since sword training?’ Issa gawped.
In only an hour the karalanths had turned the simple village into a panoply of beautiful colours. Karalanths were hurrying to and fro carrying more baskets of food and flowers. Some hefted great stacks of chopped wood on their backs and were dumping it beside another huge pile. Already a bonfire was being created.
‘Aye the Feast of Ax’anth; one of our greatest warriors, though I don’t know why we have a feast, he was far too busy fighting to eat, I’m sure,’ Grast’anth said, chuckling.
‘I’d best get washed and ready,’ she said, looking at her dirt-smeared clothes.
‘You don’t have to worry about those,’ Rhul’ynth said taking her hand and swinging it, ‘we’ll all be naked anyway.’
She laughed as Issa looked at her in horror, ‘Just kidding! Well, sort of,’ she grinned impishly.
Issa smiled nervously and carefully avoided looking anywhere in Asaph’s direction.
‘I think I’ll go wash… alone…’ she darted off to the pool to the sound of the other three laughing.
Chapter 32
Interrogation
A particularly large Maphra
xie hunched under the door frame grunting and scraping his armour upon it. He dumped the unconscious High Priestess unceremoniously on the floor of Hameka’s cabin and left when Hameka waved him away. Hameka turned away from the slumped priestess with disinterest, took his amulet off and hung it over the small mirror on top of the desk in his cabin.
‘My Lord Baelthrom,’ he said and stared into the Shadow Key’s blood-red depths.
The profile of Baelthrom formed within. His eyes glowed dark-blue from within a black tripartite helmet. He was about to speak but it was Baelthrom that spoke first and there was a tightness in his inhuman voice.
‘I have communicated with this goddess worshipping witch before, it is the same one. Within her robes you will find a Shadow Stone, given to her by the harpy. I have seen all that this High Priestess knows. The girl has not returned to the island after the death of Keteth. This priestess denies the girl’s power but is blinded by her own greed and hatred. Such emotions are easy to control and she might prove useful. She will become one of us. Despite her lack of magic we shall use the necromantic Elixir of Immortality.’
Hameka hid a grimace. The very thought of serving next to a goddess worshipper turned his stomach. Most magic-less humans were processed to make the elixir itself rather than chosen to consume the elixir. Lately the elixir was mostly used to turn magic wielders into necromancers. The ranks of their armies were so large now they didn’t need any more Maphraxie grunts, but they could never get enough necromancers. And anyway, they mostly used children to create the elixir, the soul before puberty was always purer, stronger, and easier to extract than from adults.
Perhaps this High Priestess really did harbour hatred and vengeance towards her own kind. That would be one thing we both share in common…
‘My Lord, this new power you feel, it could be coming from the dark moon. In fact I…’
Baelthrom cut him off.
‘Undoubtably. But it is also linked to that girl, of that I am sure. This power is like nothing I have felt here before,’ his voice was ponderous, ‘maybe in another time, another place... but not here.’ He fell silent for a moment and then spoke decisively, ‘Use the priestess, find the girl. I am growing exceedingly weary of hunting her.’