Esra (30 page)

       Arland got the extra wooden shortsword and buckler that they had brought along to practice with and met her back in the field to begin their instruction.

       “Ye will eventually learn how to use yer sword to defend, but fer now we will start with yer buckler only.  The most important thing yer shield is fer, is to protect yer sword arm.  If ye are struck in the hand that ye are holding yer weapon in, it will be very difficult fer ye to fight.  Therefore, a good defensive stance is one that puts the shield in the front of the body and the sword arm towards the back of the body.”  He demonstrated by taking the defensive position and Esra attempted to imitate him.  Arland walked over and manually adjusted her shoulders, lowering her shield arm to cover the center of her body.

       “Widen yer stance and bend yer knees fer balance.  Good.  The second most important thing is to use yer shield as a deflector.  Yer buckler is light but strong and the slightly curved shape will make it easier fer ye to defend against a sword attack.  Ye will learn how to deflect a blade as well as catch an arrow in its path or turn aside a well-aimed staff hit.  Now, I want ye to put yer shield down fer a moment and try to attack me.”

       “Attack ye?”  Esra asked

       “Aye.  Just take a few swings.”

       Esra shrugged and took a position she thought suitable for someone about to commence a sword fight attack.  Stepping forward, she swung her blade in a large arc around her body.  Arland easily parried the blow with such force that she stumbled backwards.  Coming forward again, she swung and stabbed a few more times as he effortlessly defended her attacks, driving her quickly backwards.

       “Great.  Now did ye see how I used my shield?  And how I barely moved from this spot?  Ye want to keep yer knees bent at all times so ye can be on yer toes and ready.  Ye will be able to shift position quickly and with little movement.  Now I want ye to put down yer sword and try to deflect a few of my blows.”

       “I want ye to know,” Esra admitted, “I’m embarrassed but very grateful that ye had thought to bring a wooden practice sword.  It would not look good if the daughter of the Great Keeper of War lost her arm on the first day of battle training.  And I’m not quite sure if Fynn has the ability to regrow limbs, talented as he is.”

       She took the defensive stance that they had just practiced and bent her knees slightly in preparation.  Arland came towards her with a wide swing and she turned to the left to block the attack.  He spun quickly and jabbed at her right, but she shifted her buckler in time to parry him.  After deflecting the next couple of attacks, her elation deflated as she realized he was being easy on her, even with a wooden sword.

       “Ye needn’t take it so light with me,” Esra paused to scold him, slightly out of breath.  “If ye want me to be fighting like a true warrior in a few fortnights, we had better hasten the intensity of our lessons.”

       “As ye wish,” Arland gave her one of his appealingly crooked smiles and peeled off his sweaty shirt.  His perfectly formed chest glimmered darkly as Fynn let out a whistle and shouted. 

       “He intends te distract ye with his glistening man chest.  Skewer him through!”

       Arland laughed and looked at her determinedly.  “Let’s try it again.”

       Esra took a few steps back and lowered into her stance as he came towards her.  This time his sword hit her left side before she had even considered moving her shield.  He caught her right shoulder with a quick jab and spun around, his blade singing with victory as it found her thigh.  Esra tried to regain her composure as she lifted her arm to deflect his next swing but he struck her hard against the hip. 

       She gasped in pain and held up her hand in surrender as red welts began to rise all over her body.  “Alright, ye win.  I thought that ye were supposed to be good luck to have around.”

       “Aye, but only if I intend fer it.  Otherwise every opponent I fought would have the gift of fortune with them at all times, which would prove very unlucky fer me.”

       Esra nodded as she leaned over and tried to catch her breath.

       “Another advantage to having a light shield and sword is that ye will be able to move rapidly and yer buckler can be used to hide yer sword arm’s position.  This will make it harder fer yer opponent to anticipate what ye will do next.

       “There are also certain offensive advantages to having a shield, as ye can use it to directly attack yer opponent.  The face or rim when thrust at someone can be a heavy hit.  There may also be times where ye are able to use yer shield to bind yer enemy’s sword hand against themselves or another object, preventing them from striking.  Or, when ye get very skillful, ye may even learn how to catch a blade and disarm someone.”

       After taking a few more minutes for Esra to recover, they all took turns attacking her with the practice sword as she tried to defend against them.  Most of the time she could not deflect their hits, but she could feel herself growing somewhat more comfortable with using the shield.  By the end of a long and grueling hour she was swollen and bruised in almost every part of her body from being hit repeatedly with the blunt wooden blade.  But she continued fighting, bending low in the defensive stance as each person came towards her swinging. 

       The light began to wane and Arland finally held up his hand in a signal to stop.

“Fynn,” Esra panted, “I have a feeling I’ll be needing yer healing hands in a very short while.”

“Bah, what’s the fun in that?  Don’t ye fancy looking like a rotten, bruised potato?”

She smiled as everyone collapsed around the Fire in exhaustion.  Esra devoured two bowls of Vegetable stew before falling asleep almost as soon as she lay down, full of warmth and food.  She was shaken to consciousness less than an hour later and groggily made her way to Roja, where it took her three attempts to mount the Steed.  As she clenched herself against the Skycatcher with her bruised legs, she hoped only for the mercy of a smooth and gentle ride.

XXVI

       This would become the pattern of Esra’s next days, waking a few hours before nightfall to practice with vigorous intensity for as long as she could stand it before collapsing in their temporary camp, attempting to steal a few moments of sleep before they continued their ride towards Fira Nadim Forest.  Almost every inch of Esra’s body was covered in angry purple bruises.  Fynn made her various Herbal remedies, which he would heat in a small pot by the magickally invisible Fire before dipping strips of cloth into the mixture and wrapping the poultices around her sore limbs.  Esra was infinitely grateful for these sometimes foul smelling concoctions, as they did much to ease her pain and allowed her to endure the long ride through the night. 

On days when they were severely pressed for time it was dried, magickally imitated meat and cold stews.  Esra didn’t mind much, as Fynn’s Herbs kept it flavorful.  And Meshok usually appeared at meal times, devouring any scraps left behind and rolling over to let everyone rub her eagerly exposed belly.

       They would also practice Tur before beginning their journey, having Esra call up certain maps and locations using the ancient language.  A few nights before Fynn began to instruct her further on the use of Tur for communication.

       “Instead of
Orro Wey
, which are the words fer sight magick and knowledge, ye need te say
Orro Ken
fer sight magick and communication.  This is followed by the name of whoever ye want the Tur te be sent te.  The other thing about using Tur te communicate, as if squiggly little worms on yer arm ain’t creepy enough, is that the person receiving the words must say
Alor Etta
, which is the spell te accept the message.  It doesn’t jes show up on yer arm.”

       “And ye said before that I could speak the message out loud or in my head in Tur or my language, right?”

       “Aye, but the message will always appear in Tur.”

       “How do I know when someone is sending me a message?”

       “Ye know that strange itchy, burning sensation ye get when ye call up a map, jes before the lines appear?  Ye will feel that.”

       “And how do I know who it’s from?”

       “The person’s name will appear in the top left corner.”

       “Alright,” she said slowly, remembering the awful sleepless nights last winter she spent scratching and rubbing the insatiable rashes covering her arms.

       “Ye’ll get used te it in time.  Let’s practice.  First I want ye te accept the message I’m going te send ye.  Remember, ye can use one arm or both.”

       Deciding it would be easier with one, Esra held up her left arm and remained still for a moment until she felt the familiar burning itch.  She was relieved that it was much more subtle, like a map was trying to appear, just as Fynn had said.  She whispered the words he had taught her.  “
Alor Etta
.”

       Slowly the script snaked its way across her arms to reveal a short sentence in Tur. 
Arland is a Bug eating scoundrel...

       “I can see it,” Esra exclaimed, proud her first attempt was successful. “Yer a scoundrel.”

       “If I want te send a long message, it will appear in multiple phases.  There will be a symbol that looks like a Sun at the end of the line te indicates there is more.  Ye will need te say
Terna
te continue reading.  It’s almost like turning the page of a book.  In fact, that’s how ye can remember the word, Terna fer turning.”

       “I see it. 
Terna
.” As she spoke the black words disappeared and reformed into a new illuminated sentence.

      
…who doesn’t know I’ve poisoned his stew so I can marry his sister.

       “Fynn!”  Esra reprimanded him with a playful swat on the shoulder.  She focused all her energy on sending him a message, saying the spell lowly under her breath. 
Orro Ken Fynn…

       He looked up at her and grinned, realizing that she was trying to communicate with him and whispered the acceptance spell.

      
She’ll never say yes to a brute like ye.

       “Ah, yer breakin’ me heart, Es.”  He held his hand over his chest in a mock swoon.  She continued to practice, whispering the spell to speak with the others in her Assembly.  Over the next few nights Esra would be interrupted by their communication attempts as they tried to teach her to recognize the subtle tingling sensation of the spell.  That was proving to be the hardest part, especially if she was distracted by some other task.

       In addition to her lessons with Tur, Esra continued to practice using her shield as they moved on to defending with the sword and hand to hand combat.  The days became blurred together as she fought against fatigue and aching muscles, overcoming them gradually to gain strength and endurance.  It was a different strength from what she had acquired working on the farm and she could feel it steadily growing.

       As her skill level improved they continued to add new lessons, moving on from defensive maneuvers to offensive exercises.  The shortsword that Baelin had made for Esra could not have been a better fit.  It was as if the sword itself had an influence on her training, willing her to learn and adapt at a steady pace.  Soon she was able to deflect a few of their attacks with her shield or sword and could occasionally land a blow herself.  Rotating through the different sparring partners and their various weapons helped her gain new perspectives on how different warriors fought and kept her from getting too comfortable with one opponent or fighting style.

       As they moved south towards the forest, the rolling hills of the Jade Gardens had gradually morphed into a flatter terrain.  The lush dark green Grass was beginning to be replaced by thinner, lighter fields with less vegetation.  Under normal circumstances the hunting would have been sparse at best, but thanks to Fynn’s expert gathering and the magickally created meat, they had no worries over food.  Esra watched with interest as the new land exposed itself before her, trying to burn the images of the countryside into her mind so that she would remember them later.  If she ever did get to see her grandparents again, she couldn’t wait to tell them all about this. 

Even with her heightened attentiveness, it greatly startled Esra one morning to see the vague horizon of a Tree line as she was dismounting Roja.

       “Is that Fira Nadim Forest?”  She asked Nadia with surprise.

       “Aye.  And it’s likely the Unni already know we’re on our way.”

       “How?”

       “As ye recall, the Unni are not fond of visitors and keep their boundaries well-guarded.  They’ve probably already sent a scout back to the main camp at Shadow Glenn to warn of our possible arrival.”

       “Is that good?”

       “I’m not sure,” Nadia answered mildly.  “Let’s hope so.”

       After falling asleep under a small cluster of shaded Trees for the day, Esra awoke at dusk to the low rumbling voices of her group members.  She pushed herself up and stretched, reaching for her sword as Baelin called to her.

       “No need fer that tonight, Esra.  Come join us.”

       She nodded and approached the low Fire, grateful for one night’s respite from her lessons but curious as to why they should cease with such little time left.  Plopping down between Arland and Nadia, Esra yawned largely as she waited for them to continue their previous discussion.

       “We’ll be at Fira Nadim in the early morning,” Baelin explained.  “So we’ll sleep a little later tonight te gather our strength, as we will probably not be able te rest during the day tomorrow.”

       “Alright,” Esra nodded drowsily.  “So what’s the plan?”

       “Well, there will probably be a scout or two before we even reach the Tree line.  I think we should approach unarmed, with our weapons tied te the Horses in plain sight but out of easy reach.  This will hopefully give any awaiting Unni scouts the impression that we come in peace.”