Esra (29 page)

       He reached for another item on the table, a buckler about four hands across.  It was engraved with a scene of Roja, Esra’s Skycatcher, rearing on his hind legs.  Next to him was Meshok, perched in a vicious position with her sharp teeth bared, ready to pounce.  Esra took the shield in her other hand, finding it surprisingly light and thin.  She swung the sword again, attempting to find a balanced position.

       “Ye should learn te fight with a buckler if ye can.  I go without one since I’ve learned te use my staff fer defense as well as any shield.   But it will protect yer hands and help ye deflect attacks.  Ye can also use it te attack by hitting yer opponent with the edge or face of it.  I’ll be making ye a full suit of armor, but it won’t be done ‘til after the War Council.”

       She swung the shield in a large circle, then practiced lurching forward, thrusting the buckler into her unseen foe.  “I love it.  The sword, too.  Ye made everything a perfect fit fer me.  I actually believe I could learn to fight someone now.  Bring on the five skills of war!”

        “Now don’t get too ahead of yerself, Esra,” Baelin laughed.  “Better learn some basics fore runnin’ out onto the open battlefield.”

       “Bah!  Now that I have yer wonderful blacksmithing gifts, what’s the worst that could happen?”  At that she made a quick jump forward as a demonstration of her newfound confidence, frantically swinging the shortsword upwards with a loud “Hi-yeeee!”  Losing her grip on the hilt, Esra watched in horror as the blade flew twirling through the air, sticking in the ground between two blacksmiths who were standing unaware on the other side of the shop.  Their conversation halted abruptly as they both turned with perplexed faces towards the offending warrior.

       “Err, sorry!”  Esra called to them as Baelin doubled over in laughter.

       “Dangerous ye are, that’s fer certain.  Danger te yerself and yer kinsman.”

       Esra blushed in embarrassment as she joined in his laughter. 

       “Thank goodness ye don’ have a Turnip,” he roared. “I’d be a dead man!”

       After shamefully walking over to retrieve her weapon and apologizing profusely again to the offended parties, Esra gathered up her new sword and buckler and headed back to the stables.  She wanted to finish packing Roja with her new weapon and shield.  The others were already there, straightening their saddles and tucking in stray leather straps.  A young boy of about eight was patiently brushing Roja’s thick white mane.  Esra strolled up to the Skycatcher and started rubbing his long, lean flanks.  The rest of her things had already been packed and tied to the Horse by Humi, the Keeper of Speed. 

       “Are ye miss Esra?”  The young boy asked, looking up at her with wide brown eyes.  He was missing his front two teeth, which caused a slight whistle when he talked.

       “Aye.  An what’s yer name?”

       “Yarmon, the Keeper of Foresight.”

       “Pleased to meet ye, Yarmon.”

       “Don’ wear the helmet, miss Esra.”

       “What helmet?” She tilted her head in surprise and bent down to face the young boy who was staring at her with deep concern.  “I don’t have any armor yet.”

       “The bad man does.  Don’t wear it.  Promise.”

       She stared at him for a long moment, expecting him to say more.  The furrowed brow on his young face helped her understand that he had said all he could and was waiting for her answer.

       “I won’t.  I promise.”

       He nodded in satisfaction and took off running towards the Dining Hall. 

       “I see ye’ve met our Yarmon,” Arland appeared suddenly beside her.  “What did he tell ye?”

       “Not to wear the helmet.”

       “Hmm,” Arland frowned.  Even with a sulky look on his face he continued to be endearing.  Esra didn’t think there could be any circumstance that made him appear less attractive.  “Wonder what he meant.”

       “I’m not sure,” she mused.

       “Well, whatever it means, keep it in mind.  There’s been quite a few times when he’s helped us to avoid disaster.”

       She nodded and took a few steps back, preparing to attempt another run and jump mounting.  Just as she leaned back to propel herself forward, a strong hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

       “Ah!” She shrieked and hopped forward clumsily, turning to find her mother and father standing behind her.

       “Sorry, dear,” Talitha apologized.  “We’ve come to say goodbye and good luck.”

       “Tis a shame it’s so soon.”  Adonis hugged his daughter fiercely, kissing her forehead.  “I will miss ye all over again.”

       Her mother stepped forward to embrace her, whispering lowly into her ear. “Have faith, Esra.  It is always in our darkest hour that we prove we are capable of a courage we did not know we had.”

       They both stepped back and watched their daughter clumsily mount the tall white Skycatcher and straighten herself in the saddle.  The others had finished saying their goodbyes and stood waiting atop their own Steeds, My Lady, Meda, Fariel, and Errol.  They were a glorious sight, the five young travelers atop their majestic Skycatchers.  As they took off across the green lush Grasses of The Gardens, Esra took a last glimpse towards the place that would become her home, and swore that she would return to it with the Unni-se, no matter what. 

XXV

       Knowing that the War Council would be held in less than two fortnights and that it would take almost half that time to reach Fira Nadim, they rode hard under the black cover of night.  It was approaching mid spring and the increasingly hot days meant that they preferred the cooler air of darkness, both for the Horses as well as the element of protection it provided from Elite trackers.  It was a strange schedule to keep, and Esra found it difficult to sleep in the midst of the high noon Sun until Nadia showed her how to fasten a cloth around her eyes to keep out most of the light. They continued to use cloaking spells for the Fires so that they could enjoy fresh meals while remaining hidden from danger.  The last thing this group needed was to draw attention to itself.  And just as Arland had said, they did not collect any wood but continued to burn their smokeless Fires from some magickal source.

       They also rode hard because they needed to have breaks to train Esra in the five skills of war.  It was necessary to know at least the basics of each if she were to have any level of respect approaching the Unni-se, as battle skills were the most highly regarded ability in Fira Nadim.  Not to mention the fact that her Assembly may actually be engaged in battle at any moment.  It terrified and excited her at the same time.  Esra was more than ready to learn how to fight, her confidence boosted by a weapon and shield she felt she could manage.  And she found herself becoming increasingly angry at Tallen and his wicked followers, disgusted that she had to learn such things to defend the basic liberties of the people of her Kingdom.  Yet here was an opportunity to bring together the races and reinforce the First Law of the Keepers, and she tried to focus on using that anger to fuel her training.

       On the second day of their travels, Arland woke Esra to the last few hours of evening for her first lesson.

       “The main skill ye need to learn is defense, because all the other skills are no good if ye can’t stay alive long enough to use them.  But ye will also need to understand basic attacking maneuvers to defend yerself well.  Ye’ll gain endurance as we are training and I will give ye some exercises to complete when we are between lessons.  Some ye will even be able to do while riding Roja.  Strategy is something that will have to wait until we get back to the Stronghold, as time won’t permit a thorough study.  And all four of us will be contributing and giving ye lessons, as we are all strong and weak in different areas.  There should be some information on yer Tur from Cane about the skills of war.  We will show ye how to access that information shortly.  Hopefully this will give ye a well-rounded knowledge in the basics of war.”

       “Agreed.”

       “And I know that Nadia continues to work with ye on stealth, correct?”

       “Aye,” Esra nodded.  Every day since the Rabbit in the clearing a short week ago they had been spending a few minutes here and there trying to improve upon what she had learned, namely how to stay quiet and unseen.  It was proving to be a challenge for Esra, but she was making slow and steady progress with a very patient teacher. 

       “Well then, let’s begin.  I want ye to have a seat on that log over there, because yer first task is observation.  Ye need to study us as we spar, try and make sense of how each of us approaches defensive and offensive maneuvers, how we use our different weapons.”

       She did as she was told as Arland called to Fynn, who reached eagerly for his bow and quiver.  After some convincing he instead took up Esra’s shortsword and buckler to demonstrate a duel between two blades.  He muttered something under his breath and she wondered if he was cursing his luck or casting a spell.

       “I am a master archer and much prefer te shoot my foes from a distance, but if ye feel better beating me te a pulp so I can court yer sister, then swing away.”

       At that Arland charged forward with a grin, swinging the Greatsword of Narajuv with both hands in a wide upward motion.  Fynn parried the blow with the buckler and was knocked back a step as Nadia took a seat on the ground next to Esra.  Fynn spun quickly to the left, swinging his blade around and over Arland’s shoulder, who deftly ducked out the way.  Both of them prowled around in a circle and the archer turned swordfighter taunted his foe with an impromptu jig, causing Arland to lunge again.  Fynn blocked the first swing with his blade, stabbing under his buckler as the second swing met with his shield. 

       “They certainly are competitive.”

       “Aye,” Nadia laughed.  “Don’t worry, we use a spell so that they can’t kill each other.  At least fer now.”

       “So that’s what Fynn was doing.  Have they ever hurt one another?”

       “Aye, but nothing serious.  Or at least nothing that Fynn couldn’t heal.”

       The two continued to spar for a few minutes as Esra studied their movements with quiet intensity.  Arland was certainly the more skilled swordsman but Fynn was very quick, avoiding disaster on more than one occasion by a mere hair’s breadth. 

       After they tired, Nadia and Baelin decided to showcase their talent with his staff and her throwing spears.  Nadia explained that she had to be very careful since receiving the Necklace of Stunning as her third Gift.  If she forgot to take it off before sparring, everything she hit with a weapon or shield would be knocked senseless for a few minutes.  Esra took the thin chain into her hands, rubbing the flat orange stone with its four square sides.  It seemed so harmless, beautiful even.  It was hard to believe this small ornament could cause such destruction.

Nadia used two of her throwing spears like small staffs, something Esra would have never thought of.  The two were a comical sight, the seven foot tall monstrosity battling the tiny shimmering Elf woman.  But neither of them held back as they darted and spun, clashed and grunted.  Nadia was much quicker, but Baelin seemed to possess a skill for anticipation and was holding his own defensively.  A few times he knocked her so far back with a mighty swing that she appeared like a glistening ghost at the other side of the battle ground before recovering swiftly to take the offensive.  At one point Baelin struck one of her throwing spears from her hands and she pulled out a small dagger.  Esra remembered Fynn saying she used them as a backup weapon for close encounters.  In a few moments Nadia had evened the score by landing a fierce kick in the center of Baelin’s stomach, knocking the breath from him. 

       Esra could not believe the skill level of the members of her Assembly.  She was even more bewildered that they could ever expect her to fight like this.  A farm girl who studied books all day.  A clumsy farm girl at that.  She was lost in worried reverie, forgetting her earlier confidence as she imagined an Elite soldier spearing her with one quick thrust.

       “Now, Esra,” Arland called to her, “let’s begin with the skill of defense.  Grab yer sword and shield and get out here.”

       She struggled to her feet, the muscles in her legs protesting in their stiffness.  Reaching for the soft white leather grip of the luminous shortsword, she picked up the weapon that was slowly growing more familiar in her hands.  The night before she had been studying the light blue gemstone encased in the dark gold pommel, tracing the stone’s smooth surface as she relaxed by the Fire.  Esra had tried to think of how she could possibly approach the Unni-se with the proposition of attending the War Council. 
Um, excuse me large, hairy sir.  Would ye mind traveling halfway across the Kingdom to have a talk with us Humans?  No?  Alright then, sorry to trouble ye.

       She picked up the buckler lying on the ground next to the sword and studied the picture of Roja on reared legs with Meshok beside him in a threatening stance.  Esra tried to absorb the courage and intimidation that they exhibited in the engraving.  Sighing in resignation, she could not deny the fact that even though she was looking forward to this training she was already tired from riding.  “I have no misconceptions of how much work this is going to be.  Then again, any advice that may help me avoid getting my head hacked off by an Elite is most certainly welcome.”

       She ambled to the center of the space that her friends had been fighting in and gave Arland a weak smile as she swung the blade a few times in an attempt to loosen her muscles.  She slid the buckler through her left arm as the rest of the group took seats around the area to watch, heightening Esra’s nervousness.  Then again maybe it was better that they knew how terrible a warrior she was, so that hopefully they knew to aide in her protection as much as possible.  She would take all the help she could get.