Ellisar’s lips pressed together tight. “Tomorrow, at sunrise, you can be at the courtyard. It is time for your training to begin.”
“Training?”
“How good are you with a sword?”
“I’ve only briefly used one. I know how to use a dagger.”
Ellisar nodded. “Tomorrow you will begin training. First will be conditioning, but soon, weapons training will follow. Bring any man or woman you believe can be skilled with a weapon.” Ellisar shook his pointer finger. “There is no racism or sexism here. The color of your skin doesn’t matter. You’re human. Whether you’re a man or a woman doesn’t matter. You’re human. We will only defeat the Dragonia Empire as a united force of humans. If you notice anyone being treated differently, do not hesitate to tell me.” Ellisar paused. “That being said, Tynaer is a jerk to everyone. But”—his finger continued to waggle—“he is hard for a reason. You will be in shape when he’s through.”
Devarius nodded. “I understand.”
“Are you ready?”
Devarius smiled. “I am.”
“Rest well tonight. The real fun starts tomorrow.”
22
The first sun appeared over the horizon, its red glow lighting the courtyard. Devarius stood at attention, Aquila and Paedyn standing on each side of him. A few others of his party had come as well, but most stayed behind. He couldn’t blame them; they were exhausted. Though, admittedly, not everyone was meant for fighting. The Resistance would not be able to survive if everyone was a fighter. Some of his party would be put to use with their other skills. There was a blacksmith, a baker, and several seamstresses, which would be just as valuable to the Resistance as a fighter. Devarius didn’t know what his talents were. He hoped to learn by training.
Tynaer studied each of them, his hands behind his back, his head shaking as he studied one person, then the next.
“Many of you have been training with me for a while. Others”—he paused, glancing to Devarius—“have just arrived. All of you still have a lot of training before you will be useful at all. I expect hard work from each of you. There can be no less. We’re not going to defeat the Dragonia Empire without hard work.”
“How are we going to defeat them?” Devarius asked.
Tynaer stepped in front of Devarius. “Excuse me?”
“They have dragonriders. Do we have a way to defeat such creatures?”
“That is not an answer you will have before your first day of training. Do you understand?”
Devarius’s lip curled. “Yes, sir.”
“We have ideas, strategies, and plans. More ideas are being developed, but you will not have access to such things your first day with us.” Tynaer glanced to the others. “Is everyone ready to begin?”
A chorus of, “Yes, sir,” echoed through the field.
“For those of you who have been sparring, continue to do so. Remember the sword forms we have been studying. New recruits … we have to condition you. We have spare platemail for you to put on.” He gestured to neatly arranged piles of platemail. “Then you will follow me.”
“Follow you where?” Paedyn asked.
“We will jog through the mountains.”
“Wearing that?”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, sir.” He sagged his head to the side. “You sure don’t ease into it. Are you sure we can’t jog through the mountains one day without the armor first?”
Tynaer stared blankly at Paedyn.
Paedyn shrugged. “Guess not.”
Devarius, Paedyn, Aquila, and eight others from their party dressed in the platemail, from steel helm to steel boots. Each of them felt at least a hundred pounds heavier.
They followed Tynaer out of the city and around the mountains. They kept up with him better than he seemed to think they would. But they were exhausted. They were used to traveling, used to being pushed hard by Devarius. But they weren’t used to so much weight. Devarius was grateful they were in the south and winter was approaching. He couldn’t imagine wearing the thick platemail in the northern summer.
They took breaks during their hike, but not many, and each one less than ten minutes. Tynaer pushed them hard. He seemed impressed all of them were able to keep up. No one had fallen behind, though a few had come close. However, except for a few brow raises, Tynaer said nothing. He didn’t seem the praising type. Devarius would have to encourage his men and women himself at the end of the day.
They didn’t return to the city until the two suns were falling below the western horizon. A beautiful scarlet glow illuminated the sky as the red sun disappeared below the horizon, leaving only the orange sun at the edge of the west. When they followed Tynaer back to the courtyard, they found the men and women still there, sparring with each other.
“Today’s practice is over,” Tynaer said.
Everyone stopped sparring, bowed to each other, and sheathed their weapons.
“Are we doing the same tomorrow?” Devarius asked.
“Two weeks. Every day. Then strength training begins.”
“When does weapon training begin?” Paedyn asked.
“After you complete conditioning and strength training.” Tynaer pointed to Paedyn. “If you are to join our army, you will not be falling out during our travels. You will be conditioned, and strong enough to keep up and help carry our camp. Those two things are more important than being a brilliant warrior. But I will make sure you can do all three.
Paedyn gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“I suggest you get some sleep. Your muscles will ache tomorrow, and the conditioning will feel much worse.”
“Will we have a day off?” Paedyn asked.
“There are no days off with the Resistance. The Dragonia Empire doesn’t take a day off, and neither will we.”
“Understood,” Devarius said.
Tynaer dipped his head, turned around, and disappeared into the night.
23
The next several weeks went by slowly for Devarius. His body was tired, but his endurance and strength grew stronger. Everyone in his party had assigned jobs, and several more ended up joining them in training. There was a job for every person in the Resistance. Devarius watched everyone worked hard. He learned that the Resistance was more than five thousand strong. Devarius could hardly believe there were so many. Not all five thousand were in Saefron, though. Many were scattered throughout the cities and villages of Kaeldroga, searching for other people to recruit.
They completed all the endurance and strength training. Devarius’s muscles ached all over. He didn’t know how he was supposed to learn weapons with how weak his body was. He stood in the courtyard, his eyes lingering on the pile of weapons stacked neatly in a pile. He wore his own leather armor now, brownish-red with a dragon skull decorating the breastplate, fitted by the city blacksmith.
Tynaer paced in front of them. He stopped abruptly in front of Devarius. “Are you ready for day one of your weapons training?”
“Yes, sir,” Devarius said.
“Good. Let me assume you have no experience at all … any of you.”
“I have a little, sir,” Paedyn said.
Tynaer raised a brow. “Do you now? With what?”
“A rapier. My father had me study fencing.”
Tynaer’s lips pressed together. “Good. Any others?”
“I am proficient with a bow,” Aquila said.
“Very good. Any others?” Tynaer asked.
No one responded.
“Very well.” Tynaer brushed his long black hair behind his ears. “Grab a weapon of your choice. You will face me with it. All these weapons are dull and shouldn’t pierce the armor we’re all wearing, but keep blows away from the face. There are different types of swords, axes, maces, and hammers. You should all find something suitable. I will judge your fighting style and tell you if you should change weapons to better complement it. Any questions?”
No one spoke.
“Good. I hate questions.” He unsheathed his broadsword. �
�Devarius, you first.”
Devarius groaned. He was always the first to have to do something, whether it was endurance training, strength training, or even now with weapons training. Since he was the unofficial leader of the ragtag party of new recruits, he was determined to have all the skills.
Devarius stepped forward to look at the various weapons. He grabbed a sword that appeared similar to the captain’s. It felt a little unbalanced, but comfortable in his hand. He faced Tynaer.
Tynaer bowed to him. Devarius returned the bow. As soon as he stood erect, Tynaer leapt forward, slashing his sword in a downward arc toward Devarius’s left shoulder. Devarius dug his right foot in the ground and spun left, dodging the sword by inches as he spun around. He swung his sword hard to the right just below his eye level. It met steel. He withdrew and slashed again, this time a swing from left to right. Steel blocked it again. They parried for several minutes, until Tynaer’s blade slid down Devarius’s to the hilt, and dipped back as Tynaer’s hilt smashed into Devarius’s hands. Pain surged through Devarius’s fingertips. His fingers flinched, and the weapon fell from his grasp. The entire fight lasted less than ten minutes.
“Not as bad as I thought you would be,” Tynaer said.
“Thanks,” Devarius said as he rubbed his left hand.
“Listen closely. First, your stance is wrong, you should not have both your feet side by side when you face an opponent, it gives you limited motion and stilted attacks. You fight right-handed, so I will assume that is your dominant hand. You should have your left foot forward, and your right behind, with your body turned so your shoulder faces me. This will give your strikes more control, but it will weaken your left side slightly. You can make up for that with different sword forms. Second, you should never let an opponent’s sword slide down to your hilt. It creates a severe disadvantage.”
“I noticed,” Devarius said.
“You’ll want to back off and reposition a strike, or use a flamberge.”
“A flamberge?” Devarius asked.
“Yes … a flame sword.” Tynaer walked over to the weapons and grabbed a blade. It was long, but instead of being straight, it had waves traveling from the tip to the hilt.
Devarius tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “Why a flamberge?”
“Flamberges are made specifically to battle other swordsmen. The curves in the blade create vibration against a straight sword. When an opponent slides his blade down against the curves, his sword vibrates, making it more straining on his muscles. Therefore, each time he slides his sword down the flamberge, he grows weaker.”
“Interesting.” Devarius wrinkled his nose. “What about a mix of the two?”
“What?” Tynaer asked.
“A straight sword until it nears the hilt, then waves to disrupt the opponent and cause vibration.”
Tynaer scratched his chin. “I have never seen such a blade. However, it does sound useful if you can become skilled with it. Speak to the blacksmith if you’re interested in him trying to create one.”
Devarius bit his lip and nodded.
Tynaer pointed to Paedyn. “All right. You’re next, fencer boy. Grab your weapon.”
Devarius stepped away, grateful for the break, and for the chance to think. He had an image of a blade in his mind. Half flamberge, half sword. He did think he’d talk to the blacksmith when he had a chance.
Paedyn stepped forward, inspecting all the weapons on the ground. He found a dull rapier, smiled, and picked it up. His grip tightened on the hilt as he checked the balance of the weapon. He frowned.
“It’s not balanced.”
Tynaer grinned. “We don’t keep our practice weapons in pristine shape. If you can fight with an unbalanced weapon, then you will only improve when you receive a balanced one. Are you ready?”
Paedyn shrugged. He stood sideways, his left foot forward, rapier in his left hand. He nodded.
“Left-handed? Interesting.”
Paedyn didn’t speak. He slashed his weapon in a backward arc, striking Tynaer’s sword. He immediately brought the rapier back, twisted his hand, and struck the other side of Tynaer’s blade. He continued striking back and forth, stepping forward as he did. Tynaer appeared caught off guard with the speed of Paedyn’s attacks. Paedyn pressed on, delivering strike after strike with such speed that Devarius had a hard time keeping track.
Sweat beaded across Tynaer’s forehead. His stance faltered as his left foot bumped into his right. Paedyn didn’t flinch at the opportunity and pressed forward, pushing hard with a swing to his left. He immediately retracted the strike, rolled forward, and slashed the rapier against Tynaer’s side. The captain fell to the ground.
Paedyn stood, grinning as he towered over the fallen captain. He slid the blade between his armpit to hold as he offered a hand. Tynaer’s brows furrowed as he accepted the hand.
“Impressive,” Tynaer said, brushing his shoulders off.
Paedyn grinned.
Tynaer sheathed his sword. He grabbed a cloth from his sash and wiped his face.
“I’m going to take a small break from swordplay. You.” He pointed at Aquila. “Show me your skill with a bow.”
Aquila stepped forward. “There are no bows here.”
Tynaer dipped his head, motioning her to follow him. He walked over to the archery range with her close behind. Devarius and Paedyn followed, both curious to see Aquila use a bow.
“Cease your arrows.”
Ten archers returned their arrows to their quivers. Tynaer stepped next to the archer on the far right, a pale woman with blonde hair.
Tynaer opened his hand, nodding toward her bow. “May I?” he asked.
She nodded, handing him her bow and quiver. He motioned Aquila to step into her place. The woman scowled at Aquila as she moved from her spot. Tynaer handed her the bow and a single arrow.
Aquila studied the target. It was a small circle target with several circles around a red center over a hundred paces away. Aquila squinted at the target for a moment. She stood upright, without tension as she flattened her back and dipped her chest. Her feet spread shoulder width apart and pointed perpendicular to the target. She nocked the arrow, using three fingers to lightly hold it on the string. Aquila raised the bow and drew the string. She aimed at the target. Her eyes focused as she took three deep breaths. On her last breath, she exhaled halfway, then relaxed her fingers to loose the arrow. Her hand moved back toward her shoulder along her jaw as the arrow soared forward. It struck the target a finger-width above the red center.
Tynaer raised a single brow. “Impressive.”
“I’m starting to feel really incompetent,” Devarius muttered.
Aquila grinned at him.
“I see I’ll have to step up my game,” Devarius said.
“Yes, you will,” Tynaer said.
Tynaer took the bow from Aquila and handed it back to the blonde archer. They followed him back over to the sparring field, where Tynaer put everyone into pairs to practice. After he tested everyone, he paired himself with Devarius.
“Can you handle sparring with me every day?” Tynaer asked.
“I look forward to it.” Devarius grinned.
“Is that so?”
“If I want to be the best, I’ll need to defeat the best.”
“Clever, but there are a few better than me.”
“Then I will defeat them next.”
“Cocky?” Tynaer asked.
“Determined,” Devarius replied.
Tynaer smiled. “Good. We need more determination to defeat the empire.”
24
After a week of practice, Devarius decided to visit the blacksmith. He was finally given a day off from the field, but encouraged to practice anyway. While he enjoyed the break, he itched to practice more sword fighting. He’d improved a lot since the first day, but knew he had a long way to go.
The brisk morning air brought a chill to his body as he explored the city. Saefron was different from most cities in Kaeldroga. It neve
r slept nor rested. Everyone in Saefron had a job to do, and they all took it seriously. Unlike most cities, people worked together. There weren’t merchants selling goods on the streets. Instead, many different shops were on every street, and if anyone needed anything, all they had to do was ask. There was enough to go around, and generosity flooded the city.
Devarius stopped in front of the blacksmith shop and took a deep breath. The sign on the door said, “The Smithy.” He pushed open the door. The sound of metal hammering metal echoed in the small building. He saw coals and orange liquid being poured into molds. The scent of metal filled the air. Devarius walked to the counter, rang a small bell, then watched from behind the counter as several men worked.
After a few minutes passed, a man in overalls, with a soot-covered face, ambled to the counter. He wiped his face with a rag before leaning forward.
“Good morning, sir. I don’t recognize you. Are you one of the new recruits?”
“Yes, sir. The name’s Devarius,” he replied.
“They call me Smithy. What can I do you for?”
“I am interested in a custom sword.”
“Are you now? Has the captain said you’re ready for your own sword?”
Devarius frowned. “Not that I recall. But when I first practiced against him, we got in a conversation about swords, and I had an idea. He said to talk to you about it … to see if it could be done.”
“Hmm … interesting.”
“Is everyone here a blacksmith?” Devarius asked, glancing to the other three workers.
The man grinned. “Two blacksmiths, two apprentices. With an entire army to equip with weapons, honestly, it’s still not enough.”
“I see,” Devarius said.
“What type of weapon were you wanting to make?”
“Well, I’ve practiced with both a bastard sword and a flamberge. I like them both, and really want a mix of the two.”
The blacksmith tilted his head. “A mix of the two?”
“Yes,” Devarius said. “I was thinking of a sword with a straight edge on the upper half, but a wavy blade like a flamberge as it approaches the hilt. That way it’s good for stabbing and normal sword fighting, but if my opponent tries to slide down to the hilt, the vibration will throw them off-balance.”
Dragonia- Dragonia Empire series Box Set Page 11