The Half-Hearts Chronicles

by Kealohilani

  As Raoul strained his neck to look up at Jaresh, he was sure that Jaresh could have been the real-life Terminator and had to fight his urge to say, “Come with me if you want to live.” To Raoul’s infinite relief, Jaresh smiled warmly and offered his hand in greeting.

  “My name is Jaresh, and I will be happy to pass on my knowledge of the crossbow to you. I am a demanding teacher, but I am also fair. Give your all each and every day and we will have no problems.”

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t give someone like you trouble— uh, I didn’t mean that in a— I mean I don’t give teachers trouble ever— but especially not you because… Hi, I’m Raoul.”

  Jaresh laughed heartily as he shook Raoul’s hand and slapped him playfully on the back. Raoul stepped forward to keep from falling and laughed nervously along with Jaresh.

  As the days wore on, it turned out that Raoul was a natural when it came to the crossbow. Lani caught glimpses of him from time to time in-between her own training. There was never a time that his crossbow bolt didn’t hit at least part of the target he was aiming at— and the number of exact hits was growing exponentially. She marveled at his skill and wondered if all this ability could have started when he earned his archery badge in Boy Scouts.

  Justin was learning to use an axe that looked like a six-foot-tall medieval weapon from Earth. When his trainer first handed him the weapon, his mouth had fallen open wide— and a rolling, nearly-maniacal, laugh erupted from deep in his throat as he exclaimed, “Are— you— serious?!”

  He had turned the axe over and over in his hands, inspecting every inch of it. His weapon had so many options for defending against a foe in close combat. And it was so light— even if it had been made out of wood, it would have been heavier! And yet, it was made entirely of some sort of metal.

  The main foot-long blade was in front, with a five-inch pick-like point directly behind, at the narrowed back of the blade. The long shaft of the weapon fitted seamlessly inside the shoulder of the blade. It had a sharp spike on the bottom of the shaft— which Justin loved to stab into the ground to attempt horizontal Matrix-like moves with his body, using his weapon as a post to launch from. His trainer intermittently had to stop him from attempting these fantastic moves to get him back to actual training.

  Every time Lani saw Justin training, he had an ear-to-ear grin on his face. He looked just like he had back in high school when the three of them used to have a blast making home movies. If Lani knew him as well as she thought she did, he was not thinking ahead at all about how he might actually have to use these skills. However, he was so serious about play, he was progressing just as quickly as if he were thinking ahead.

  “Hey, Justin! Where’d you learn to fight like that? Video games?”

  Justin ducked as his trainer took advantage of Lani’s interruption.

  “Hey, Lani! Where’d you learn to swordfight like that? Watching Highlander?”

  Justin ducked once again, narrowly avoiding a fierce blow from his trainer’s staff.

  “You know I knew how to fence already!”

  “Yeah but what you’ve been doing ain’t fencing! It’s real sword fighting!”

  Justin dodged his trainer once more and angrily swung his battle-axe so that his trainer had to tuck and roll to avoid injury.

  “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation with my friend here! Can you give me just a second, Ka‘ern?”

  “No. In real battle you must be able to fight during any distraction.”

  “True dat. Hey Lani, I’m kinda busy right now. Can we talk later?”

  “Sure. Sorry, haha! Thanks for the comparison to Duncan MacLeod!”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. Fighting like a TV character isn’t going to help y— Ow!”

  “Concentrate!” Lani laughed.

  “I’ll concentrate a lot better once you’re gone!”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll go back to my training then! See you later, Justin!”

  Lani cracked up. She figured that there was no reason to try to focus Justin on the reality of upcoming battles and facing death. Ka‘ern could attempt to do that if he wished. For now she would rather not think about it herself.

  Erik was being instructed in the ways of the broadsword. His attitude was quite different from Raoul’s and Justin’s. His reaction to his weapon had been to raise his eyebrows and nod in a chilled-out kind of way, pursing his lips in a thoughtful manner, as if to say that the sword would do.

  Although Erik was probably the most naturally gifted of all of his friends from Earth— possibly more gifted than half of the Alameans in the camp— he was not really disciplined or focused in trying to improve his skills. He had never really applied himself in school— or in life for that matter— and he wasn’t about to change that about himself now.

  However, like most guys, he enjoyed the swordplay— and an occasional muted smile would cross his face whenever he managed to get a new move down correctly. But, if he ever saw Arante looking his way, his technique suddenly became more accurate and concise and his fighting amped up in intensity— pushing his muscles past the point of fatigue.

  Kendra was given a quarterstaff, which had sharp metal points at both ends. From the moment it entered her hands she had felt that it belonged in them. The first time she held it she passed it deftly and quickly back and forth between her left and right hand, then twirled it rapidly on both sides of her body before spinning around and bringing one end to a rest on the ground with a quick approving nod, as if praising the stick itself.

  When the rebels had finally broken into their mini-camps for lunch that day, Kendra ran to find Lani. She dragged her back to show her what she had learned. Lani watched with rapt attention as Kendra and her trainer demonstrated her new skills.

  “Wow!” Lani exclaimed, clapping in amazement.

  Kendra was already such a feisty little thing naturally— even without a weapon— that now she was downright formidable. That, combined with the fact that Kendra was already a black belt in Cabales Serrada Escrima, made her a force to be reckoned with. On more than one occasion, she surprised her trainer by out-maneuvering him.

  “You go, Chicky!” Lani exclaimed.

  “Thanks!” Kendra beamed.

  Kara had frowned upon receiving the news that Arante had chosen her to be her apprentice. Kara’s eyes had searched the area as if looking for another trainer to rescue her, and it seemed as though she might cry again.

  Arante rolled her eyes and shoved a bow and a quiver full of arrows into Kara’s hands so roughly that Kara had to take a few steps back to keep from falling over. The days crawled by for Kara as Arante continued to push her to become a better archer.

  “No, no, no, no, no! You’re not even trying! All of your other friends are doing better than you are!”

  “Look, I’m doing the best I can! I’ve never used any kind of weapon before! I wasn’t obsessed with video games and Japanese weapons like Justin and Raoul, I’m not super strong like Erik, I never fenced like Lani did, and I never took martial arts like Kendra! I was trying to become an actress where the closest thing to fighting I would have had to do would have been to argue with the director about my character’s motivation!”

  “Your problem is that you are weak and spineless and have more desire to go home than to learn how to save your family and your friends! Using a bow and arrow is all about practicing to refine your skills and subtle technique!

  “You don’t need any of the strengths your friends have— other than the guts to choose, as they chose, to access the courage that anyone can access. That, and their drive and determination to work through pain long enough to actually accomplish more meaningful tasks than just being able to get their hair and makeup done!”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “It’s perfectly fair! Now try again!”

  Kara sighed in aggravation. She yanked a new arrow from her quiver, strung it, hauled it back, and let the arrow fly.

  “Look out!” Arante yelled.r />
  Erik turned around and flinched as the arrow narrowly missed his head and hit the tree behind him. His face turned red and his cheeks undulated with anger as he saw the horrified look on Kara’s face. He inhaled to yell, but stopped as he saw Arante. Instead, he exhaled and forced a smile as he called back cheerfully to her.

  “Thanks!”

  “You’re welcome!” Arante called out with the corners of her mouth slightly upturned.

  Erik turned away before his urge to yell at Kara could get the better of him and he and his trainer disappeared into the trees out of her range. Arante’s slight smile transformed into a frown and she rounded on Kara with sheer fury emanating from her eyes. Kara took several hurried steps backward in retreat.

  “But Erik wouldn’t need to be thanking me now, Kara, if you had been anywhere near the target you are supposed to be hitting!”

  “I’m sorry! It was an accident!”

  “He was thirty feet from the target!”

  “I’m working just as hard as my friends and I’m doing it in heels! I don’t have sneakers like the rest of them!”

  “Those aren’t heels,” Arante scoffed looking at the thick and sturdy three-inch heels of Kara’s boots. “These are heels.” Arante put her foot up on a nearby log to show Kara her four-and-a-half-inch-barely-wide-enough-to-be-slightly-more-stable-than-stiletto heels.

  “Why are you so mean to me all the time?”

  “Hmmm… let me think… How about… I don’t like weak people!”

  Kara started to cry and Arante stormed off.

  Lani and Jharate often found clearings away from the rest of the rebels where they could practice alone. Lani hung on Jharate’s every instruction and did her best to get each move memorized by the third or fourth try— often wishing she could do everything right the first time.

  She gave no leeway when she made mistakes— demanding perfection of herself. It felt like she was reliving the time in eighth grade when she had joined the orchestra at her new school. All the other students in that class had been learning progressively since sixth grade.

  Though the activities were different, the feelings were extremely familiar. She thought back to the adrenaline that had filled the pit of her stomach as she asked for special permission from the instructor to join the class in the first place— when she didn’t even know how to play a stringed instrument.

  She recalled the dizzying feeling in her brain as she tried to learn where all the notes were on the violin within a week’s time, while simultaneously trying to get used to the feeling of the bow crossing the strings. The way she had seen it, she was in eighth grade so she should be at an eighth-grade level.

  The memory of the pain in the fingertips of her left hand, as her body gained the calluses needed for playing, flashed through her mind frequently as she worked with her new sword— as did the memory of the feeling of overwhelm, from trying to keep up with students two years ahead of her on pieces like Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major, that were well beyond her comfort level, which was more along the lines of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

  Only this time, the pain of learning involved every muscle in her body. And this time, she was trying to catch up with a master who had practically studied since the day he took his first step. Not to mention the extremely real possibility that her life could very well depend on the skills she was learning now.

  She fostered that same attitude of feeling as though she should be at the level she would have been at her current age— had she been in training her whole life. That, coupled with extra hard work, was paying off— as the blisters on her hands changed to calluses, the fatigue in her muscles grew into strength and stamina, and her memorization and constant internal evaluation in her brain turned into intuition.

  As the days turned into weeks and the fighting became more instinctive, Lani and Jharate were able to engage in normal— albeit somewhat breathy— conversations, as they fought. They also talked during almost every break they got— discussing every subject under the sun— until they inevitably became the best of friends.

  But Lani was dying to know if there was more. She thought she had caught subtle hints that maybe she wasn’t alone in her feelings, but it was never conclusive. Jharate began to hum out loud from time to time when he was in her presence and smiles became a frequent reaction whenever she perfected a new move he had given her to learn.

  But was he humming just because— or because of her? And were those the smiles of a proud trainer? Or those of an interested man? Or both?

  His face retained its dignified air whenever they were amongst the others in the camp. But again Lani wondered if this was simply the action of a prince who felt it better not to look like a starry-eyed youth in front of his people— or if it was an indication that he just wasn’t that into her…

  It seemed like everything he did— which gave her hope that he might have feelings for her— could also be interpreted in a completely different way.

  One particular night tortured her with the seemingly indecipherable dichotomy. She and Jharate had been practicing long and hard that day. As the sun began to set, Jharate looked at her intently. She felt a rush in her heart as she waited for him to tell her what was on his mind.

  “As night is falling, perhaps we should build a fire here.”

  Lani’s heart leapt! A romantic fire for just the two of them— it was the sign she had been waiting for! Lani and Jharate both sheathed their swords and she got to work helping him build the fire. He insisted that she only get the kindling and that he would handle the heavy work— another sign!

  The moment they finished, the now-familiar— yet always beautiful— large spiral-shelled horn sounded in the distance with a low tone to announce that dinner was ready. Lani turned to go, but Jharate lifted his hand to indicate that she should wait. She stopped and looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

  “You need not go, Lani. You have been working diligently this day. I will bring back food for both of us. Wait for me here.”

  “Thank you,” Lani sighed, as her arm muscles twitched with fatigue.

  Jharate disappeared as Lani sat down against a tree near the fire and stared happily at the dancing flames. She was tired but thrilled because this was going to be the first time they were alone together for an evening meal… This was their first real date! She unbraided her hair and fingered through the wavy cascades— biting her lips to make them redder and putting on lip balm to make them softer.

  Jharate reappeared in no time at all with their food. He politely handed Lani’s meal to her and sat down next to her. Her stomach jumped with excitement for the food before she even got the first bite into her mouth and her heart fluttered in anticipation of what Jharate would do next.

  “I am pleased with your dedication. Many people would not have had your enthusiasm for hard work after dinner.”

  “Work?”

  “I am glad you do not feel that training is work. That is highly commendable! Thank you for helping me to build the fire so that we will have enough light to continue to practice into the dark hours.”

  “No problem…”

  Lani’s heart sank, and she fought to keep her face from falling with it. She forced a smile in response to Jharate’s praise. That’s why he had wanted to build the fire? Seriously?

  Not that she minded the practice, but her hopes had sailed way past work and into love. The two of them sat there, eating quietly. Jharate finished before she did and stood up.

  “We will need more light. I will return in a moment with more wood to stoke the fire.”

  “Thank you. That sounds good. It will give me a chance to work on that one move thingy you just taught me…”

  Lani trailed off. That sentence had completely gotten away from her— not that she had really known where she was going with it in the first place. She set her plate down with the food she wasn’t hungry enough to finish. While Jharate was gone, she quickly re-braided her hair for training.

  When
the fire was sufficiently stoked, they returned to practice, and Lani tried hard to ignore the frustrated thoughts that rushed through her head. After another hour of training in the dark, the horn rang out again— much to Lani’s surprise. Jharate answered her question before she could ask it.

  “Jaresh has discovered a jhana tree nearby and has prepared a customary Trisaknen hot drink. The fresh ripe fruit of the jhana tree has healing properties and is extremely soothing to both the body and the soul. It will be an excellent way to end the night after our long day of training. I will return shortly.”

  Lani sat down once again, grateful that training was finally over, and irritated that this whole thing had been about just that— training! On the other hand it was very sweet of Jharate to bring her food and then to bring her the drink that would help her aching muscles. She had a feeling she would sleep like a blissful kitten that night.

  She leaned against the same tree and stared into the wild flames. Jharate returned and handed her a tin cup.

  “Careful. It is still quite hot.”

  “Thank you.”

  She held the cup to her lips, blew carefully across the surface of the amber liquid, and sipped it slowly.

  “Oh my goodness— I love this! It tastes a little like hot apple cider with cinnamon, which is a traditional drink for my family during the winter months.”

  “I am pleased that it is to your liking.”

  They sat there enjoying their drinks and listening to the sounds of the night. Again, Jharate finished before her but did not rush her. Instead, he started to sing. It was the first time Lani had ever heard Jharate do so.

  Her heart fluttered as he began and she quietly unbraided her hair. His crystal clear baritone voice rang out. Hypnotic. Otherworldly. Pure. A shiver ran up her spine and goose bumps formed on her arms. She closed her eyes, trying to absorb the sound.