Hunter's Academy (Veller) (21 page)

“Very good.” Luke smiled. “Now, pick up the other one and get ready.”

She gripped the second blade in her other hand, and it felt just as comfortable, just as well balanced.

“Now what?” She asked, although she didn’t have to wait for long.

Luke threw the cloth aside and grabbed the sword that was leaning against the wall.

She
hadn’t noticed the sword, she didn’t know what Luke was going to do with it, but when he swung at her head, she mangled to get both blades up, blocking the attack.

“What the hell…”

She didn’t have time to think as he spun around and came in on her other side. She easily deflected his blow again, as well as a third time. She read each attack and each time she was able to get the blades between her and the stable hand’s sword. He came in on her left side again, but this time she used just the left blade to deflect his attack while striking with the right. Luke easily maneuvered away from what could have been a rather messy end with a rather unorthodox spinning move, but then most of his combat was unorthodox when compared to the blunt force attacks of Master Boraro.

“So, it would appear that I was… not mistaken.” Luke grinned, keeping a good distance from
her.

“Maybe you could explain what just happened.”

“As I have told you, there are many weapons and many styles. When I watched you in the past, I have noted that you can fight as easily with your left hand, as you can with your right.”

“
Let’s just say I’ve had a few opportunities to practice.”

“What you have just shown
me is that you also have a basic understanding of the Tachiena style.”

“The touchy style
?”

“
Tachiena.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never even heard of it.”

“I would be very surprised if you had. It was a style of fighting used by the alverian centuries ago, especially designed for the Lann.” Luke said as he set his weapon down and took the blades from Kile. He carefully wrapped them back in their cloth, and she was a little sad to see them go.

“The
alverian were slighter in build than that of the vir and so their style of fighting also differed. I have witnessed the Casacure, or circle style that Master Boraro teaches, and, although it works for most vir, it requires considerable strength of arm to master, something that you, Kile Veller, do not posses.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“The Tachiena or dual style doesn’t require strength, but speed and… finesse. Attributes that most vir do not possess, but you do.  The style is… shall we say… more aggressive than that of the Casacure. You do not maintain a circle of defense around your person waiting for that one killing blow. Instead, you move in for your attack, getting under your opponent's defenses, attacking with quick skilled strikes, and then getting out. Use your opponent's weight against him, exploit the weakness of his style, and when you have weakened him, then, you go in for the killing blow.”

The idea was a bit chilling, especially the way Luke described it, but it made more sense
than Master Boraro’s style, and she could already see the advantages.

“But, how is this going to help me?”
She asked. “Surely they would never let me use this during the final evaluation.”

“The Hunter’s Code does not dictate the type of style that a hunter must use in combat. The only reason that the Casacure is used is that it is the simplest to teach. Almost every cadet that
comes to the academy can use it effectively, some better than others.”

“Then some could use the touchy style.”

“Tachiena.” Luke corrected her.

“
Tachiena.” She repeated. “What about the… swords.”

“The Lann are listed within the Hunter’s Code
as acceptable.” Luke assured her.

She
figured the first thing she would have to do is get a hold of one of these code books to find all the little loopholes that she had been missing. It could save her a lot of headaches in the future.

***~~~***

8

Five weeks had past since the dreaded news of the raids in the north and information was very short coming. Each morning the cadets would fall in for roll call and wait with anticipation and fear of Headmaster’s Oblum’s appearance at the morning rituals. Anticipation because each cadet wanted to know more, what was going on, what was the crown’s response to the raids, what hunters were sent into the wastelands and what intelligence, if any, did they bring back. Fear because they were afraid of what those answers might be. The only information they received were the names of the cadets that had passed through the Pudora gate. In those five short weeks, over thirty five cadets left the academy, most of which were first years although six second year cadets and a third year were also on the list. The reality of a Hunter’s life, and ultimately his death, hit home with the fallen fourteen, the green parchment with the black border remained pinned to the bulletin board, even when the list of the civilian had been removed. Morale was at an all time low, but the academy had to get back to the business at hand, because in spite of how Eric said it, there were now fourteen less Hunters in Aru. Whether that was just an unfortunate turn of events or a sign of things to come, no one was willing to speculate.

The
winter’s feast came and went without much merriment and although there was feasting in the dinning hall, it was nowhere near as festive as the year before. Kile, Daniel, Alex and Carter never attended and instead retreated to Kile’s room for their own celebration, if one could call it a celebration. It had been more of a memorial service for the fourteen, but mostly for a young vibrant hunter known as Tree, who they had all known, if but for a short period of time.

After the
winter festivities, classes took up much where they had left off, but now the cadets were starting their wilderness survival training at the hands of Master Folkstaff.

Kile’s
first impression of Master Folkstaff had been one of curiosity, he was not like the other instructors at the academy, he was more laid back, more carefree. He didn’t let the little nuisances of day to day life distract him from, what he referred to as, the big picture. He appeared to be more comfortable with himself and the world around him and took everything in stride. In many ways, this was what Kile always thought a Hunter should be.

He was a tall man, but then most of the instructors were from Kile’s point of view, with long black hair that was bra
ided and hung down well past his waist. His beard, another requirement it would seem that most hunters must possess, was also braided in three even strands ending in green and yellow beads tied off with leather straps, and even though he looked almost comical, with his ill fitting deer skin jacket, knee high leather boots, dull green threadbare cloak, and wide brimmed floppy hat, he could still command more respect than even Master Boraro, he just never bothered to.

He sat quietly on the rock, leaning up against an old oak tree.
His cloak pulled around him to keep the chill out, his hat pulled down over his eyes to keep the sun out. He didn’t move nor speak as the cadets fell into formation out in the open field, just outside the walls of the academy. Although there was a legitimate classroom for wilderness studies in the main hall, Master Folkstaff didn’t care for it. He always believed more in the hands on approach.

Kile was starting to think that Master Folkstaff had either fallen asleep, or worse, died of exposure, but the unorthodox hunter pushed up the brim of his hat with
one finger and peered out from underneath.

“Contrary to popular beliefs, this isn’t the military.” He said as he slowly got to his feet, wiping the snow from his pants. “Ease up a bit, relax, take it easy.”

That was easier said than done, for the last year and a half they had stood at attention, it was not easy to go against training, even Kile, who still felt a rather lax attitude toward the authority of the academy, was finding it difficult. Folkstaff just shook his head and grinned.

“We’ll have to work on that.” He said “Now follow me.”

With nothing that resembled an explanation, he turned and walked away. The cadets looked at one another, not really sure what to do, when it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, they had to run to catch up. At this point there was no formation, since the Hunter didn’t appear to be following any set path, and it didn’t even look as if he had a set destination, he just went where his unnaturally long strides took him.  They crossed fields, navigated through trees, and even walked over an ice covered brook. Kile noticed a few of the boy looking back the way they had come, probably trying to figure out if they could find their way back if it became necessary. To her ways of thinking, there was no real reason to go back, and she kept her eyes on the instructor.

After t
hey had walked for the better part of two hours, Master Folkstaff abruptly stopped and turned. The cadets in the back of the pack, who had been too busy watching where they had come from, collided with the cadets in the front of the pack who were watching where they were going.

“This looks like a nice spot.” He said as he eyed the trees around them.

It was a small clearing in the woods, nothing very spectacular in the way that it would have indicated a final destination, but Folkstaff seemed to think so.

“Well… come on, make yourself comfortable.” He said as he found another tree and brushed the snow from its roots. He sat down and watched as the cadets looked around in a state of confusion. Kile wasn’t as confused, having grown up on a farm and explored the surrounding woods with her brother, not counting the time she got lost, she was quite comfortable sitting in the middle of nowhere. She chose her place off of Master Folkstaff’s left side, where a large rock and a fallen tree provided some protection from the elements. She kicked away the snow and, tucking her cloak under her as she sat on the lee
side of the rock. Folkstaff gave her a nod of approval and it didn’t take long before Daniel, Carter and Alex joined her.

“You have learned much about the mechanics of survival in the last five weeks, but you have not learned how to survive. Who can tell me the two biggest dangers to a Hunter’s survival in the wild?” Master Folkstaff asked.

He looked around and waited as cadets were still trying to find places to sit down. A few answers did fly in his direction. Food, water, shelter, enemies, wild animals, the terrain, even weather conditions were among those voiced by most of the cadets. Kile had to agree that she was thinking along those same lines, with the possible exception of wild animals, but knew those answers were not the ones that Mater Folkstaff wanted to hear. For starts he asked for two dangers, and he wouldn’t have asked the question if the answers were that obvious.

“Although they are all dangers that you will face as a Hunter, they are not the biggest dangers to your survival.” Folkstaff remarked. “The two things you have to watch out for are complacence, and the desire for comfort.”

There was an obvious level of disbelief among the other cadets as a few of them openly scoffed at his conclusion. Folkstaff waited until the group quieted down a bit.

“That is usually the reaction that I get.” He replied, and he wasn’t the least bit upset or annoyed at
the reaction. Master Boraro would have gone ballistic had the cadets shown him even that much disrespect. He would have been cracking skulls by now, but Master Folkstaff just took it all in stride. This was a man that was confident in his knowledge and knew what he was talking about, not someone that had to constantly prove himself.

“
Complacence, although in and of itself is not undesirable, it can be the first step on the path of giving up. It is one thing to accept the situation and deal with it, it is quite another to accept it, and have it deal with you.  When we give up our desire to survive, we give up our desire to live.”

“No one is just going to lie down and die.” One cadet yelled out.

“You would be surprised.” Folkstaff replied. “Sometimes it’s easier to just, as you say, lie down and die, than it is to keep fighting to survive, and in many cases it may not be your choice. There are a lot of factors that can influence our decisions. The cold for instance…” he said as he grabbed a hand full of snow and held it up for the cadets to see, as if there wasn’t an abundance of the stuff all around to begin with. “Prolonged exposure to the cold can lead to exhaustion to such a point where it becomes easier to just stop trying and give in to the situation. Thirst, hunger, illness, loss of blood, these weaken us and can also lead us to that same point, that mental numbness, that indifference to whether we live or we die. It creeps up on you, silently, quietly, until eventually… what’s the point. What’s the difference if I die here or over there? What's the difference if I die today… or tomorrow? You won't’ realize it's happening unless you’re looking for it, in yourself and in your companions.”

Kile was paying close attention
to the man as he spoke. Not so much what he said, but how he said it. The look in his eyes, the expression on his face, she was getting the feeling that Master Folkstaff wasn’t stating facts from a book, but from his own experience.