“My goal is not just to conquer your blades, but also my own fears and tension. With freedom comes relaxation,” added Norryn. “And that is something you could benefit from, Geyre.”
Geyre couldn’t recall if it was his pride or the way Norryn offered his advice without condescension or arrogance. Something about his kindness and genuine resolve to “help” Geyre just got under his skin. Geyre turned on his stomach and gathered himself. Rolling toward Norryn, he lunged again from the ground.
As Geyre’s knife strike got close, Norryn sidestepped the attack. Taking hold of Geyre’s arm, he pivoted easily. The motion caused Geyre to stumble again on his back. Norryn dropped one knee onto the wrist of the hand holding the knife and the other on Geyre’s chest. Holding the knife to the ground with his hand, Norryn used his knee to strike Geyre’s wrist until he released the knife. Maintaining the knife to Geyre’s throat, Norryn smiled at Serra as she clapped. Holding the practice knife in hand he waved and thanked her before pretending to stab Geyre in the chest.
Geyre grimaced as he looked at Norryn above him. “So, are we done yet? I think you made your point. Just so you know if anyone was watching I will kill you in your sleep.”
Norryn smiled as he helped Geyre to his feet. “You see? You have been focusing on two tools to attack me, and I defend myself with my entire body. To me, it is you who are at the disadvantage, not the other way around. This is where freedom is most important. At least that is how I feel about it anyway.”
Geyre rubbed his wrist as he moved it to make sure it was still functional. “Why thanks for the lesson, you ass! Next time you could warn me when you plan on pounding me into the dirt!”
Norryn motioned to where he had just felled Geyre. “Well I guess I could show you how to meet the ground properly,” he said.
“I am almost afraid to ask how you do that.”
Norryn smiled again. “You have to fall of course. A lot. And I have to help you.”
The knife fighter held out his hands to decline. “Oh, of all hells, I think not!” was Geyre’s immediate response. At this, Serra could hold back no longer. Laughter finally got the best of her as Norryn helped brush the dirt from Geyre. Shaking the cobwebs loose, he eyeballed the young boy. There would be no end to the ridicule he would be forced to endure if anyone had witnessed his defeat. “You sneaky, sneaky little bastard.”
Norryn shrugged genially. “What do you mean?”
“You’re loving this. You know you are,” declared Geyre.
“Of course not,” countered Norryn. “I simply wanted to open your eyes up to the possibilities.”
“You bet he is.”
Norryn turned to his friend sitting a few feet away. “And you stay out of this,” he scolded with a devilish grin. He turned back to Geyre. “I just needed to show you what freedom can do. There is no set way of going about these things when you free yourself to be spontaneous and creative. It all starts with that.”
Geyre shook his head. “And this is how you show freedom, by beating the crap out of me?”
Norryn’s smile beamed. “Would you have learned any other way?”
Geyre ruffled the boy’s hair. “I give up. You are impossible and painful at the same time. And I think you drew some attention to yourself,” said Geyre with a grin as he pointed to the imposing figure approaching them.
“Well pleasant winds of fortune, it seems there’s an Ashener in our presence after all!” Lancer Vanmorth spoke proudly as he neared, apparently noticing the lesson that was just offered. Norryn looked beyond Geyre’s shoulder to see the stout wall of muscle approaching. Lancer’s red hair was darkened by a veil of sweat, yet he appeared unhindered by the hours of constant training. His voice, as always, thundered through the distance to find Norryn with hearty ease.
“Hey Lancer, how goes it?” asked Norryn.
“Good and well, lad, good and well.” Lancer closed the distance and stood next to Windfalls. “Geyre.” He was greeted with a nod before he turned back to young Norryn. “Well I must say I’m glad to find you here. Your father was going to stop by and supervise today’s training, but alas, he was called away.”
Norryn nodded at this. “Yeah, time has been tight for him unfortunately,” he replied.
“Which makes it all the better that you are here right now, my boy,” said Lancer. He gave Norryn a hearty slap on his arm. “You can fill in for him.”
Norryn looked up at the hulking mass of a man before him, to the eyes veiled with dust and sweat. Lancer was a warrior, a man of tradition and valor, renowned for his skills as head of the town’s defenses. Now he was asking an 11-year-old to help teach his men. Norryn could only stare at the smile below a rough edged-mustache. “Huh?”
Lancer Vanmorth laughed. “Oh come, lad, don’t be shy now. I know you’ve been trained by the best, and your pop gives good words of you time and time again. Let’s be off now. The boys will enjoy having an Ashener for a teacher. Besides, if you do help, I promise not to tell everyone what became of Geyre just now,” he said, his thick accent full of jovial spirits.
“Well thanks a holy pant load,” said Geyre before motioning for Norryn to be off. “You heard the man, Norryn. It’s the least you can do for me now.”
“You started it,” mumbled Norryn.
“You lying little runt!”
Lancer did not wait for Norryn’s reply. “Well come on then, off with you now. You and Geyre can play more later.” Lancer Vanmorth winked at Geyre before escorting a reluctant Norryn to a group of 20 soldiers in training.
Geyre and Serra looked at each other with mild amusement as they watched Norryn be led into a group where he was out aged by at least nine years by everyone present. Somehow both knew that this might turn out to be very interesting indeed. Murmurs bled out at first from the trainees present, soon after laughter followed. The thought of training with a child was too much for some of them. Lancer squashed the candor quickly enough.
“All right ya mealy-mouth sumbitches, listen up!” Norryn looked agape as Lancer addressed his men, astonished by the sudden transformation in demeanor. “You’ve been sloppy today, and sloppy’ll get you killed quickly enough. So, this here is Norryn Ashener, son of Alderich. I have asked him over to have his way with you ladies and see if he can’t point out what it is that ails you so.”
Norryn took a couple of awkward steps forward, waving at the soldiers reluctantly. His voice was faint and shy as he shrugged. “Hi.”
His response was met with a chorus of laughter. Young men of various heights and weights leaned on each other as they chortled with gut wrenching humor. “That runt’s teaching us,” one of them bellowed as he tried to stay on his feet. Norryn looked solemnly at Lancer as he shrugged his small shoulders.
Lancer placed his large hands on his hips. “That’s enough, you little prissy school girls, ya little chatter box buggers! Ya want to sleep tonight or not, cause we can drill all night long if you like. I got all the time that I need, how about you?” That brought silence quick enough. “Better. Now listen up, and that means pull that thumb outta your ear Zelcor and put it back where the sun never shines. What this little ‘runt’ can show you just very well may save your lives.” Lancer smiled down to Norryn. “All right, boy, it belongs to you now, so give them hell.”
Norryn was nudged ever so not gently toward the waiting trainees. Taking a nervous breath, he cleared his throat. “Hey, guys. How’s it going today?” Various grunts and murmurs of greeting met him. They were all geared in training apparel, a generic style of the standard Vallance defense uniform, though brown and utilitarian. Norryn pressed on through his nervousness. “I watched you a bit during sparring today. Not bad, there was a lot of promise there, I think. There was nothing that a little work and sweat won’t fix.” One of the boys raised their hands. It was the young man who Lancer had addressed moments ago. “Yes, Zelcor?”
To Norryn, his face looked every bit as condescending as his voice conveyed. His mannerisms displayed a true
distaste for the current lesson. “So, if you’re the expert, what was wrong with us then?”
Norryn crossed one of his arms over his stomach as the other scratched at his chin. He thought a moment before speaking. “Well honestly, you guys are too rigid. Your moves are all choreographed. I didn’t see any freedom in your motion that would make me think that you could act spontaneously to a changing situation. I may be young, but one thing I do know is that a fight never goes the way you plan. And to top it off, not one of you has a shred of relaxation going on,” he offered. That observation didn’t go over to well with the group. Another raised their hand, a larger boy than Zelcor, in fact. “Yes?”
The trainee offered no respect in his reply, obviously annoyed to be speaking to privilege. “Well what does being relaxed have to do with anything in a fight? We’re training for life or death combat and it sounds like you want us to join you on a trip to fantasy land, no offense.” That comment got some murmurs of approval.
Norryn smiled a bit. “You would be surprised. Personally, I think it has a lot to do with it. When you’re relaxed, truly relaxed, you hit harder, you avoid injury and go with the flow of combat, hence increasing your chances of survival. Being tense and rigid works against you. Your muscles tense up and your anxieties impair reaction time. To top it all off you wear out quicker. Fatigue, tension, distraction; all these things will defeat you in a fight. You must accept that combat is a constant flux and you must adapt. The terrain could be different. Weather could be a factor. You could be fatigued, hurt or both. You will have to be able to use what you have in the moment.”
More murmuring met Norryn. He even heard a “whatever” in the group somewhere. Clearly, these guys had no intention of listening to him. Not that the young boy didn’t know that already, but Norryn had tried. With ego, most of the time, the hard way was the only way to learn. “Well I guess I could spend all the time in the world telling you about it, but the only way we are going to get anywhere today is if I demonstrate.” Norryn looked about the little crowd. “So which four of you is it going to be?” This brought on more laughter, stronger this time. Lancer was about to tear into them again when Norryn motioned for him to stay quiet. He waited for the laughter to subside. “Any four will do.”
Another piped in. “You’re joking right?”
Lancer answered that. “Afraid he’s quite serious, lads. And so am I on this. You get four of you buggers picked out now, and if you get the upper hand on this little boy the drills will stop right then and there. Course if you don’t, we still have a few more hours of light to kill.” That was all the motivation these young men needed.
After a little talk and agreement, four determined young men were selected. Norryn had remembered them from earlier, and they were indeed some of the most promising fighters of the bunch. They stepped forward nonchalantly. One was Zelcor. It was he that spoke then. “So, what now?”
Norryn motioned for Lancer to move as he took a few more steps into the open. He loosened up a bit as he walked, addressing the young men with a smile. “Easy. You guys just have to get me to the ground and keep me there. You do that and you win.”
Another one that Norryn did not know piped in. “Don’t worry, little man. We’ll make this real quick.”
Norryn said nothing more. He watched contentedly as the boys circled him. He seemed to be untroubled as they surrounded him. Serra and Geyre watched as they stood poised and ready to pounce. Again, Norryn did nothing as he looked on. His arms sat easily at his sides. From around the area a few people had stopped from their chores to catch the festivities. Suddenly, the air became excitedly loud and deathly quiet at once.
With a slight nod, Zelcor gave the signal. All four men rushed in at once. Arms wrapped around Norryn, but only for a moment. Somehow, through deft, snake-like motions, Norryn eased his way from their grasp. The process made the four trainees work against one another. It was not long before they tangled limbs and stumbled to the ground. Norryn casually circled about, waiting for them expectantly.
The second attempt found the four charging two-by-two with similar results. Norryn twisted, dodged and inched his way out of every grab. As the third attempt proved even more fruitless, Norryn could see the frustration taking its toll on the group. With renewed determination, it was apparent they intended to take the kid gloves off and get serious. Circling Norryn once more, each prepared to make their move.
Zelcor lunged first. His movement prompted the others to follow an instant after him. It was in that moment that Serra realized their intent. They were going all out this time. They wanted to make a point to this little “prince” of a boy and fast. They wanted the town to know he had no idea what he was talking about. They wanted him to go back to his home humbled and with the knowledge of what the real world was like.
Zelcor had been facing Norryn at a bit of an angle. When he shot in, he sent his right foot at Norryn in an arc meant to hit Norryn in his abdomen. Norryn’s hands rose quickly enough to meet that foot. Instead of catching it, Norryn’s hands pushed the foot further along its course, fueling the momentum of the kick. Zelcor was sent off balance as his foot picked up speed and carried past Norryn and into his approaching partner.
As Zelcor kicked, one of the other trainees had darted to get a hit in as well. Norryn had countered him by sending Zelcor’s foot along its trajectory and into his unsuspecting chest. He doubled over breathless as Zelcor tumbled to the dusty ground. Norryn then turned his attention to the others.
Seeing their opportunity, the trainees behind Norryn made their move. A tall lanky young man Norryn did not know swung a wild fist at Norryn’s chin as his head turned to face his other two opponents. Norryn raised his arm, elbow first at the punch. As the fist connected, Norryn allowed his relaxed arm to pass the punch on by. The speed of the punch sent the man closer to Norryn and sent Norryn’s elbow forward. This motion naturally brought Norryn’s fist upward in a circular motion; its trajectory put it right at his attacker’s chin.
There were two unpleasant sounds. The first was Norryn’s fist meeting the face of the older man. The speed of this attack, fueled by Norryn’s relaxation, made the young boy’s incoming fist a heavy blow indeed. The second sound was the ungraceful thud as the older boy unceremoniously hit the ground.
As the third boy hit the ground, Norryn looked to the fourth and final trainee. He too had hoped to capitalize on Norryn’s attention focused elsewhere. Had he known that Norryn was aware of his presence, the man may have rethought his tactic. Norryn had turned his head again to find the fourth young man soaring through the air with one foot coiled to strike him in the head. Later he would be told of the outcome, as he would not remember.
Norryn easily side-stepped the attack as the flying foot spat out to strike. Putting a hand underneath the heel, Norryn gripped lightly. As the young grunt’s foot rose, his angle of descent, especially his skull, adjusted dramatically. Gravity played its role as the side of his head went first, crashing into the ground. Whatever dream he found himself carried to, Norryn hoped it was a nice one.
“And that, Serra, is why you never leave the ground in a fight. There’s just too much to lose, especially in terms of pride.” Geyre chuckled to himself at the outcome.
“I can see why now,” said Serra as she shuddered at the misfortune of the young soldier foolish enough to try such a maneuver.
“You know I would call your best friend a lot of things, young lady. Normal will never be one of them.”
“Geyre Windfalls, I assure you he is only getting warmed up in this life.”
“Then gods help us all,” he chuckled.
Geyre and Serra watched on amused. The rest of the grunts gawked, disbelieving the outcome they observed. Norryn looked at the four that had failed to subdue him. Finally, he turned his attention to Lancer. The head of Bannar’s defenses stood with his arms crossed, smiling.
Norryn went and shook his hand earnestly. “From what I have seen today, these men have promise. They a
re fast and agile and have trained well.” He said all of this so that every soldier present could hear it as well. “But the one thing holding them back, the one thing that will get them killed quicker than anything else is their ego. Until you get rid of that, there is no learning anything new for them, only what they think they need to learn. Good luck, Lancer. And if you need me again you know where to find me.”
Lancer chuckled proudly at the young man’s work. “Thank you again for the time, boy.” Lancer then watched as Norryn went back to his friends. A devilish grin crept on his face as he surveyed the astonished eyes of his troops in training. He hoped today’s lesson would sink in, and hard. “Well a deal’s a deal, girls. We have some more training to do before this day ends. Help your fellow chums up and let’s get hopping.” A strong, serious set of groans met his order.
Lancer led the bewildered group away with four in tow and Norryn returned to Serra and Geyre. Geyre stood scratching his head as Serra sat cross-legged and shaking her head. The whole fight lasted mere seconds and had seen four young men destined for years of ridicule from their fellow soldiers at their loss to a boy. Norryn let out a sigh as he returned to the shade.
It was Geyre who broke the silence. “I have said it once, and I will say it again. You love this crap, kid. You know you do. I’d say you were showing off if you ask me, but no one asks me. That being said, you were definitely showing off.”
Norryn simply shrugged. “I wasn’t showing off. They wouldn’t have learned anything new any other way.”
Geyre crossed his arms. “Whatever you say, show-off.”
“Okay, maybe a little, but I was trying really hard not to.” At this, Serra threw a twig at him. Geyre revealed a sarcastic sneer. “Oh fine. You got me! You can’t tell me they weren’t asking for it though. I mean they needed it.”
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