by Jon Jacks
The swords weren’t toys. They were expertly – in fact magically – forged killing machines.
Beth had felt the draining of local energy as the steel and iron taken from the old machinery littering the farm was transformed into sharp blades, guards, hilts, and pommels.
Old tarpaulins and torn car seats became handgrips, sheaths and belts.
In the hands of the new arrivals, the swords were flashes of silver in the air. Although they weren’t capable of the naturally mastery displayed by Beth, most of the newcomers skilfully wielded their weapons.
They displayed a clear understanding of the use of their cuts, thrusts and defensive parries. Even so, the moves didn’t flow and blend into each other as smoothly as they should. Beth wasn’t sure if this was because of the limited skills of their inner spirits, or the poor responses of their new, weaker and less agile bodies.
Certainly, though, everyone was doubtlessly moving quicker and more lithely than they would have believed possible just a few days ago.
‘How’d they choose who ended up wrestling with these clumps of iron?’ protested an overweight man.
His moves were more fumbling and unbalanced than most.
‘I’d have preferred to go off with those improving their magic skills.’
Earlier, they had been split into groups, then led off in different directions across the fields. Each grouping had been given a particular ability to practise and improve upon.
‘They’re not really being taught magic skills.’
Barry was having as much trouble with his sword as the plump man. Rather than appearing frustrated, however, he laughed and giggled at his own incompetence.
‘All these exercises – whether it’s with the sword, practising magic, or being taught how to ride a horse – are more to do with learning how to maintain control of your inner spirit than anything else.’
‘Barry’s right.’
A girl in her twenties, supple and well exercised, relished the way she could move so lightly across the ground.
‘The ones taken off to practise magic, you ask me, are the ones in danger of drawing way too much on their inner power.’
‘You’re now inherently capable of achieving remarkable things!’
Barry suddenly sprung into a surprising whirl of movement. He came to an abrupt halt, his sword held out before him in the middle of a downward strike.
‘But at the expense of losing your very self, if you’re not careful!’
‘Way I’ve seen you lot performing today,’ growled Tull, who had obviously been listening in to their conversation, ‘I reckon you’re all in danger of drawing too much on your inner spirit.’
He executed a smooth set of movements, as if fighting an accomplished, invisible foe.
‘If you’re up against an enemy, and you’re as stiff and unbalanced as I’ve witnessed here, you’ll be solely tempted to call up the skills of your inner spirit! And one of us, I believe, has already seen what that can lead to!’
He glared at Beth, warily observing her smoothness, her ease, with the sword.
‘Not a pretty sight, is it Miss Jones? Their clumsiness?’
‘No sir.’ Beth wasn’t quite sure how Tull expected her to answer his question.
Tull had been placed in charge of the sword training.
Having led them across the field, he had allowed them a few minutes to ‘loosen up those muscles; you’re going to be using them more than you could have ever imagined.’
As she had practised her own moves, Beth had watched Tull going through his own elaborate, skilful jabs and strikes. He was good, very good.
Yet Beth noticed that, like most of the others, his moves suffered now and again from his lack of physical strength, the inflexibility of a poorly exercised body.
‘So we need to remove that rustiness and shrug off that laziness of your body!’
Tull hissed and growled as he moved through a strike, a downward cleave, a recovery and a withdrawal.
‘Yes, it will gradually change for the better! But we don’t have the time to wait.’
With a commanding glower and a wave of his free hand, he indicated that everyone should now begin to follow and copy the moves he was making. There were stumbles, mistakes, and slow, faltering, delayed actions that earned the culprit a snarled rebuke.
The crusties especially were hopeless; their weapons seemed to be gaining in weight with every passing second.
Unless Beth was mistaken, Tull had more hair today than when she had first seen him.
It seemed strange that he could still be partially bald, still scrawny and weak – or, like some of the others around her, flabby and overweight – while others like Limpet had regained the use of his wasted leg.
And what about those, too, who had walked out of hospital cured of all their ills?
Perhaps, Beth reasoned, the spiritual form quite naturally returned to the typical, standard two legs, two arms etcetera. But there would still be variations dependent upon the wilful choices an individual had made through his or her life.
‘As for the idiot who asked why using a sword is important; you use it, laddie, to save magical energy for the opponents you’re really going to need it against!’
Although Tull talked as he moved, he didn’t sound breathless.
‘And if you’re up against some clever little beggar who manages to suck away all the energy around you, flattering himself he’s now invulnerable; imagine his surprise when you suddenly cleave his skull for him, eh?’
He leapt forward, bringing his sword down hard in a curling strike that would indeed have split someone’s head in two if they had been unfortunate enough to be standing there.
‘What about a gun?’
Drek grinned childishly, like he was pleased with himself for pointing out such an obvious flaw to Tull’s arguments. Far from looking childish however, as he had done only a few days ago – his constant sense of unease, his gawkiness, his pallid, heavily spotted skin – he appeared to have gained the benefits of a few years of aging.
Drek now emanated a confidence and strength that was once alien to him.
‘Wouldn’t that be easier, faster?’ he said.
‘A gun?’ Tull sneered.
Suddenly, he was a blur of movement.
Drek shrieked in horror as Tull’s blade was brought to an abrupt halt only a hand’s breadth from the top of his head.
Tull’s enraged face was directly in front of his own. He could feel the man’s hot breath, see the anger in his eyes.
Despite Tull’s incredible burst of speed, Beth had somehow moved even faster.
She was between them both, her body arched back, her sword raised and skilfully blocking Tull’s downward strike.
‘I wasn’t going to kill him, you little fool!’ Tull hissed furiously. ‘I was demonstrating that it takes too long for a gun’s mechanism to work. Too long for bullet to pass through space!’
‘Sorry, it was just instin–’
There was another furious whirl of movement as Tull pulled his sword back. He swung it down, aimed it for Beth’s midriff.
Once again, she moved even quicker, blocking any possible strike.
‘Only a blade moves with you!’
Tull was breathing hard, angrily. He spoke as if to the watching trainees, as if this were all part of their instruction.
‘Only a sword is as fast as you are!’
This time, he pulled his sword back slowly, warily.
‘Practise your moves,’ he barked at everyone.
‘You!’ he growled specifically at Beth. ‘Instinctive? You were going to say your moves were purely instinctive?’
She smoothly, gracefully slipped Hew into the sheath strapped to her back.
‘Yes, I–’
‘Yes, you’re drawing too much on your inner spirit!’
‘No, I–’
‘Lynese? A water fay? How could you move so fluidly unless you were drawing on
every ability of your inner spirit?’
‘No, no; would you please just listen–’
‘If you can fight like this, why didn’t you offer to help train the others?’
‘Because I don’t really know how–’
‘Yes, see? You don’t really know how you mange to fight in this way. You have no control, in other words!’
‘I can learn it and–’
‘Learn it? Don’t you think it’s a little too late to learn anything? I shall have a word with Galilee. I think there’d be a danger of releasing powers we don’t understand if you took part in the magic sessions.’
‘Dangerous? How could a water fay be–’
‘I knew this Lynese, I think. I can’t see that she would need such a remarkable ability with a sword!’
‘You knew her?’
‘She was seen as a protector by the people of Lyonessee. A beneficial, healing-spirit; yet Galilee says she worked against us?’
‘She was confused. She wanted to protect magic so she could continue her healing.’
‘Hah, to retain her powers, you mean? And so don’t you think that a person who fought to retain her powers would now also fight to regain them?’
‘But she’s a good spirit, can’t you see–’
‘Even a good spirit, once it begins to experience and relish the freedoms you grant her, might be tempted to take more and more. It would be oblivious to the damage it’s causing you! Soon, the transfer of control becomes unstoppable; for either of you!’
‘She died trying to protect the people of Lyonessee! I can’t bear to think what this Morrigan woman did–’
‘Morrigan? She took on Morrigan?’
‘Look, would you please stop interrupting? You really are so incredibly rude an–’
‘Yes, yes, that would make sense! Morrigan could sink an island!’
‘You know her too?’
‘Know of her, thankfully. If Lynese found herself facing Morrigan, then I pity her. She would have had no chance against such a powerful sorceress.’
‘Lynese said it was all over pretty quickly–’
‘Not so quickly that Morrigan couldn’t cull the poor people of Lyonessee, eh?’
‘Cull? That’s an odd word to use.’
He laughed bitterly.
‘Morrigan sees it as her responsibly to cull those she perceives as being too weak to be of use! She prefers those who have died in battle; because she can transform them and make them her own. She enlists them into her own legions of the dead!’
Beth shivered.
‘She’s probably one of the worst we’ll have to face.’
Tull placed a consoling hand on Beth’s shoulder, as if he now empathised with Lynese and the struggle she had faced.
‘Hence the importance of our training, eh?’
He glanced up, distracted by the rolling thunder of passing horses. Epona, the red haired woman, was at their head.
Her mount was frisky, lithe, and spirited, yet she moved easily and naturally with it. She sat tall and proud upon its back.
Ah, here’s someone who’s every inch the warrior queen, don’t you think?
Although she would rather have bitten her tongue off, Beth had to agree with Lynese.
The woman’s mass of hair flowed behind her like an inextinguishable flame. It bobbed and flared in the light as, in an incredibly smooth motion, Epona rose high in her stirrups, swung over a leg, and leapt down to the ground without bothering to draw her horse to a halt.
‘Water your horses before you drink yourself!’ she ordered, spinning around to face the other riders.
Her mount slowed, then came to a stop, the other horses following suit.
‘They’ve worked hard!’ Epona pointed out.
I don’t think she got that little number out of her travel bag, do you?
Epona wore a concoction of leather straps and small metal plates that covered little more than a swimsuit would. It was straight out of a fantasy comic.
Yeah, either a Red Sonja boutique has opened up around here recently, or she’s used magic!
Oh, we are coming on aren’t we? You didn’t have to speak a word of that!
Beth was surprised to realise that Lynese was right; suddenly, she could speak to Lynese without saying everything out loud.
‘Take a break,’ Tull growled resignedly.
He had noticed that the attention of most of his male trainees was now firmly fixed on Epona’s arrival.
Besides, there was a further distraction.
A large group of people who had newly arrived at the farm were looking somewhat bewildered and seeking help. Tull cried out, drawing Folster’s attention to the newcomers.
In no time, the squat little man was organising their billeting as efficiently as if he had already prepared for it.
Tull next called over an exhausted, sweating Barry. Taking him aside with a serious frown, he began to quietly yet forcefully scold him.
Yet Tull’s growing anger only caused the overweight man to ripple with laughter. When they parted, they walked off in opposite directions.
As soon as they had been given permission to take a break, Drek had excitedly rushed over to Heddy as she watered her horse at the troughs.
Being an experienced rider, Heddy was checking for slack and overly tight straps (as with the swords, a range of saddles and reins had been constructed from old leather using the briefest bursts of magic). As Drek called her name and came up behind her, however, she immediately turned to embrace him with an elated giggle.
If Drek’s recent and swift transformation had amazed Beth, Heddy’s own change had been even more spectacular.
She was tall, graceful, beautiful. Her limbs were slender and athletic, her body already burgeoning into a young woman’s elegant curves.
By comparison, Beth felt gangly and pallid. Was she imagining it, or was she still trapped in the body (the spirit?) of a girl?
She didn’t feel as if she had matured in the same way Heddy and Drek had. She didn’t look as if she had changed, either.
She had checked with a glance at herself in the mirror only this morning.
How was that possible? How could she be so different from everyone else?
‘I wish they wouldn’t do that.’ Galilee sighed forlornly as he drew up alongside her.
Having plucked one of the buttercups growing around his feet, Drek had placed it beneath Heddy’s chin. He used the golden glow it brought to her skin as an excuse to playfully kiss Heddy’s throat.
‘The buttercup, I mean,’ he added, in case Beth had mistakenly assumed that he was against Drek and Heddy’s budding relationship. ‘I wish they wouldn’t pick the flowers. They’re so much more precious when you know they aren’t going to grow back.’
‘How many do you think we’ve flattened as we’ve practised using the sword?’ Beth said it far more sourly than she intended.
‘That’s unavoidable. But picking them just for pleasure is a luxury we can no longer afford.’
Galilee had also quickly aged. He was no longer a boy.
He was taller, more muscular. More sophisticated, more responsible.
But rather than looking better for it, as Drek and Heddy did, he seemed tired, exhausted. He appeared weighed down by his extra responsibilities.
‘Our seeking of unnecessary pleasures Beth; it’s going to leave us living in a wasteland.’
Standing alongside him, listening to his concern for the world and the people around him, she felt even more childlike.
How could he ever be attracted to her now?
Wouldn’t the red-haired warrior queen make a far more suitable companion for him?
Would accepting a little beauty help from Lynese really be so wrong?
‘I think Tull is going to have a word with you,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t think I should have magic training.’
‘This Lynese, Beth; do you trust her?’
She had hoped Galilee would simply dism
iss Tull’s anxieties with a world-weary chuckle.
‘Of course,’ she lied. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘Because she could kill you, Beth. Even if she doesn’t intend to. You can’t trust her, not fully. Don’t you see? As you grow in power, they do too.’
Now that he was directly facing her, he seemed more drained of energy than ever.
Was he describing his own problems rather than hers?
How much was he drawing on his own powers to hold everything together? He had needed Machal’s knowledge, his authority, his magical ability to gather everyone around him.
Was Galilee worried that he was losing control?
‘Think about it Beth; to retain control, we have to be permanently alert. Strong at all times. So here’s the paradox, Beth. It’s exhausting, it saps our energies. So we need sleep, if we’re not to become exhausted. Even though we’re now mainly spirit, Beth, we still need to recuperate, to regain energies we’ve spent throughout the day. But they don’t have to sleep! They’re awake and still aware when you’re at your weakest!’
Beth could see that all this could indeed be a warning aimed at her. He was, effectively, asking her if she really wanted to go through all this.
Did she really want to open herself up to all these problems?
Even so, he also spoke as someone already experiencing this dilemma.
‘And here’s another paradox Beth. The more effort you put into controlling everything, the less chance you have to get on with your own life. So you’ve lost yourself anyway.’
Beth’s only response was to wait, wait while he paused and considered if he should unburden himself anymore than he already had.
‘And then there’s a third paradox, of course. Because when it all comes down to it, there’ll probably be a point when you have to relinquish all that control anyway. Otherwise you’ll both die, and we risk losing the war–’
Galilee’s eyes sprang wide open.
In the same instant, Beth felt strangely cold.
It was as if all her clothes had been abruptly snatched away, leaving her bare to the elements.
She realised that many of the others must have felt something similar for, like her, they all glanced up into the sky.
The air above them rippled, darkening in parts almost as if it were the precursor of a violent storm. But the colours, the shapes, were wrong; there were purple and yellow hues, like a growing bruise. The air moved in hard, sharp angles.
None of the crusties seemed to be aware of the changing sky. Gerry looked about her, totally bewildered, as she tried to work out what everyone was staring at. Drek and Heddy smiled in bemusement.