Soul Seeking

by R. Michael Card

  “It’s in the ancient tongue. It means dragon-blooded.”

  “Dragon-blooded? Dragons… aren’t real… are they?” That would be a rather stunning revelation. He looked down toward the village. “And whatever you have to say, say it fast. I need to go help them.”

  “You’re not going.” She was firm, but he could sense fear in her as well. She was afraid for him.

  Well that wasn’t going to stop him. He was afraid as well, but that strange woman was going. She didn’t seem afraid in the least. He had a sense he could learn a lot from her. “I am going, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  He saw the shift in his aunt’s eyes, the fear turn to anger. “Yes, there is.” She stepped toward him, raising her hand.

  He stumbled back. That’s what his aunt had done to the woman, and the woman had looked like she’d been in pain. He’d never seen his aunt do anything like that before. Surely she wouldn’t do… whatever it was… to him, would she?

  He stepped back and felt something poke him in the back. Turning he saw it was the haft of his axe. He moved to the far side of the chopping block and pulled the axe free. He wasn’t going to use it on her, he couldn’t, but he had to know. “Why are you doing this? Who are you? I’ve never seen you like this before?” Parts of his world were crumbling around him.

  Aunt Sarelle stopped, seeing the axe. She looked at her own outstretched hand, and it fell to her side. “I’m sorry, Jais. I wasn’t going to… I was just going to put you to sleep, nothing painful. You can’t go down there!” she said, tears coming with the last words.

  He lowered the axe.

  “You were…?”

  Put him to sleep? She could do that? His mind latched onto memories. He’d watched her do many healings, and nearly always she gave the person something to calm them. They often fell asleep during the process. Perhaps it wasn’t the draught she gave them that did it. Perhaps it had been her own touch.

  His heart raced. It sunk in only then that his aunt had powers, magic, something. Was that what it meant to be a drahksan? But then that meant… he did too?

  “I’m…” He couldn’t say it.

  The axe nearly fell to the ground as his hands went numb.

  He couldn’t think. Nothing made sense, or perhaps he just didn’t want it to. Perhaps it made far too much sense.

  He shook his head, latching on to what he knew, what was urgent in the moment.

  “I’m going to help the village.” He said it softly, simply.

  Sarelle tried to say something but he waved her off.

  “We can talk later. I’m doing this. I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I don’t know who I am, but I know I can do this. I’m sorry.”

  And he left.

  She didn’t follow.

  Jais reached the village square just as a crowd was dispersing.

  Alnia saw him and ran over. “Oh, thank all the gods you’re here.” Her next words were in a hushed, awed tone. “I don’t know who that woman is, but she took control here quick enough. There wasn’t a man here that tried to argue with her. It was amazing to watch.”

  Jais was sure it had been. From what little he’d seen of the woman she was certainly… assertive.

  It was odd with his axe in one hand, but he pulled Alnia close with his free arm and — not caring who might be looking — kissed her. If he was going to risk death today, he’d do it with the remembrance of her lips on his, and the scent of her hair in his nose. It was a long, lingering, deep kiss, and when their lips finally parted he said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen out there. Pray to Suur for me.”

  She smiled. “I’ll pray to Lansus, for victory, not just war.”

  Jais nodded not quite able to bring himself to grin. “Goodbye ‘Nia.”

  “Not Goodbye, just fare well.” She levered herself up to give him a quick peck.

  Then he was leaving her to seek out that warrior woman. What had she called herself? Carween?

  He searched the square for her. She was on the far side, looking directly at him with an odd look on her face. He’d always been good at reading people, but this expression was a bit of a mystery. Could it be envy and disappointment? That made little sense to him. There was no reason for her to be jealous of him nor disappointed, not yet anyway.

  He walked over to her. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Did you speak with your aunt?”

  “It was more of an argument… but I think I know… what that stone meant.”

  “You think?”

  He looked away. “I don’t know much at the moment. My world seems to be turned on its head, but I know I’m coming with you.”

  She gave him a stern look. “I see. Do you know how to use that thing?”

  When he glanced back at her, he saw she was indicating his axe.

  “I can fell a tree quick enough.”

  “A kroll isn’t a tree. For one thing, it’ll move out of the way.”

  He looked her up and down. She had a hard look. He’d never seen a true warrior before, but he imagined this is what one would look like, a weathered padded shirt under a steal breastplate with well-tended weapons. She had dark hair, tied back in a single ponytail. Her face looked young, yet at the same time, careworn. There was a scar on her cheek. It wasn’t large, but it tugged at her mouth giving the sense of a roguish grin. It was the eyes, dark pools of brown that made her seem older than her youthful face suggested. Something in his mind clicked at that. His aunt looked a lot younger than she was. Also people tended to call him baby-faced. Was this an attribute of being drahksani?

  He shook it off as he resumed his assessment of her. Her lips were full, nose straight. Her body told him more. Square shoulders and an easy, yet ready stance spoke of strength and speed. She carried the spear as if it was a part of her, and the sword at her hip also seemed to fit her look. This woman knew battle.

  He shrugged at her questions. “Something tells me you can teach me what I need to know quick enough.”

  “No.” Her tone was firm, final.

  He was a little shocked. “What? Why? I’m stronger than any man here, probably stronger than you and—”

  “There is more to fighting than strength, much more. You’re not going.”

  He blinked. This wasn’t right at all. Why was she being so harsh. He knew he could help. He lowered his voice. “But I’m like you… doesn’t that mean something? I’m sure I could take a kroll… if you’d just teach me a little.”

  She let out a huff. She too spoke softly. “You’re strong, sure, and I could train you, but it’s because of what you are that I can’t let you go. You’re… we’re the last of our kind and I need—” she cut herself off.

  What had she been about to say?

  “I can’t let you get hurt. I… you… your aunt would kill me.”

  The darker skinned man behind her gave a curt guffaw. Jais didn’t understand any of this. Why did everyone think he was so fragile?

  He shook his head backing away. “Fine. You won’t train me then I’ll go off on my own and find this thing. I’ll prove I can fight.” He wasn’t afraid. He’d show them what he could do.

  He turned and stalked away.

  “Jais! You can’t!”

  Oh yes, he could.

  Footfalls behind him, running, signaled someone’s approach. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

  “Wait.”

  He turned.

  The woman warrior was there. She looked concerned. She needn’t have been.

  He waited for her to say something, but she just stood there, on the edge of speaking for a long moment. Finally she huffed out a sigh. “Fine. You win, I’ll train you.

  The older warrior strode up behind her. “He’ll never learn what he needs to before we find this beast.”

  He met the man’s gaze, level, unyielding despite the other man’s height and obvious battle prowess. Jais’ tone was even, stoic when he spoke. “The boys of this town used to pick on me, beat me
up. I learned how to fight them quick enough. They only knocked me down a few times before it was them hitting the dirt.”

  “If a kroll knocks you down… even once… you don’t get up again,” the man said just as calm.

  Jais turned to the woman again. “All I need is a little training. I’ll learn quick enough.”

  She nodded, keeping her gaze locked with his. “I believe you will.” She didn’t seem happy about it though.

  That was it.

  They left town as the bell tolled the call of midday. Jais’ feelings were a mess of uncertainty and excitement. He only hoped he’d live up to his own expectations… he knew he could fight, but… he didn’t want to let this woman down.

  And he didn’t want to die.

  “Here’s the deal. You manage to knock me on my ass just once, and I’ll train you until Barami gets back, and let you come with us. If you don’t… you’re going back to your aunt.”

  They had arrived at the farm where the livestock had been killed. It was abandoned, the family fled. The kroll was nowhere to be seen, so Barami, as the tall dark-skinned man was called, had gone to track the thing and see if it was still close.

  It seemed Caerwyn, a name Jais still had trouble pronouncing correctly, had some conditions attached to this training.

  He nodded. That seemed fair enough. He was fairly certain he could knock her down once.

  They had no weapons. She’d asked to see what he did know of fighting, how good he was with just his fists.

  He set himself, stance wide and balanced, fists up and ready.

  She stood there. She’d taken off her breastplate to make the fight fairer, but even without her armor she seemed prepared. She shrugged. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Jais was wary.

  He wasn’t used to fighting someone who wasn’t already coming at him. He’d been on the defensive most of the times he’d brawled as a boy.

  Suddenly he wasn’t so sure he could beat her. Sure, he was strong, but he assumed she was well experienced. She had to be used to fighting men stronger than her and probably had some counter ready.

  He shook his head. He’d been an idiot to think this might be easy.

  He rose from his low stance.

  “Giving up?” she asked.

  “I don’t give up.” He moved in toward her slowly, carefully. She began moving as well, to the side, keeping distance between them. He got closer to her and reached out, mostly to see what she’d do. He wasn’t punching. He’d hoped to push her shoulder knock her off balance, but she moved quickly, grabbing his wrist and spinning, kneeling as she did. Then he was in the air, out of control, before landing on his back with a grunt of air.

  She was up and ready, moving away.

  “That’s one,” she said as he rose.

  “One? Do I have a limited number of tries at this?”

  “We don’t have all day. I’ll give you three more.”

  With how easily she’d put him on his back, he was growing less and less certain of his ability to knock her down.

  Last time he’d tried slow and careful. Perhaps this time he’d try all out force.

  He charged at her. He’d bowl her over with the force of his attack.

  Yet once again she wasn’t there as his arms closed around where she had been. He saw what she was doing — despite the lightning speed with which it happened — as she side-stepped, crouched, spun, and kicked out. Her leg caught his, knocking that leg into the other. He tripped, pitching forward and tumbling to the ground.

  He rose again, dusting himself off.

  “That’s two.”

  There was a hint of a smile on her face now. She knew she’d beat him. But he still had two more shots at this. He wasn’t done yet.

  The problem was, she was quick. Until now he’d been matching force for force with the boys of the town. He’d never fought someone with grace and agility.

  But…

  Something clicked in his mind. Just because he was strong didn’t mean he wasn’t fast as well.

  He strode over to her.

  He jabbed with a fist, testing, and as he’d expected she blocked his attack — or at least she tried to. He pulled his fist back, chambering his arm quickly.

  She cocked her head to one side. “You do learn quick.”

  That he did.

  “Let’s see how quickly.” She came at him. Two quick punches at his head were easily dodged as he wove around them, stepping back as she moved in.

  Some part of him knew that whatever came next would be something new.

  He was right.

  She kicked, her leg snapping up at his head.

  Time seemed to slow. He saw the foot heading for him and raised his hand.

  He grabbed her ankle as time recoiled back to its regular pace. His arm didn’t give with the force of her kick, and he knew he had her. He smiled.

  Now he used his strength, even as she tried to pull her leg free. He pulled her toward him, dropping to his knees and turning slightly, throwing her leg past him.

  She followed her leg and landed in the dirt a few paces away with a huff of air.

  He stood slowly.

  He’d done it. He’d defeated her!

  He couldn’t help but grin as she got up. “A deal is a deal,” he said pulling himself up to his full height, which still wasn’t a match for hers. She was a good half a head taller than he was.

  She eyed him. “Where’d you learn to do a throw like that?”

  “Just now.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded.

  She tilted her head. “Then perhaps you can learn to fight a kroll in an afternoon.” She shrugged. “And a deal is a deal. Go get your axe.”

  He did, excited to finally be accepted by this strange woman. He didn’t know much about her, but he respected her as a warrior. For now, that was all he needed.

  He returned with his axe.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  He gave a nod.

  “Then come at me.”

  He hesitated. She didn’t have a weapon. Her spear leaned against the barn not far away and the sword remained sheathed.

  “Aren’t you going to use a weapon?” he asked.

  “I have a weapon. Yours.”

  “You have… sorry, what?”

  She just grinned. “Come at me. If it makes you feel better, do it slowly. Hack at me as you would with that axe, nice and slow.”

  He shrugged.

  He swung the axe as he would at a log on the chopping block, overhead, coming down at her. Surprisingly she stepped into the attack, also moving slowly. She began talking as she moved. Each movement was sure, smooth.

  “Your weapon is end heavy. Not a bad thing, but it means, once you are committed to a swing it becomes hard to change direction.” She reached up and grabbed the haft of his axe between where his own hands were placed. Already he could see the head would come nowhere near her, since she’d moved closer. But like she was saying, it was hard to alter his attack, even slowly, especially since she was holding the weapon as well. She was in close to him, her face mere inches from his own. He caught something, some odd look in her eyes as their gazes met.

  But he probably shouldn’t have been looking in her eyes.

  Her free hand hit his shoulder. He wasn’t sure how, but it made his arm go numb and his one hand fall off the axe. Her hand then took the place of his and, with the downward momentum of the axe and her two hands already on it, she was able to pluck it from his grip like he was a child. She spun, not quickly, but fast enough to bring the axe down then up at a slight angle such that it came up at his ribs. Even moving slowly he was taken by surprise. She stopped the blade as it brushed his clothes.

  “You’re dead,” she said, letting the weapon fall away.

  He could see the blow as it would have happened, up under his ribs deep into his chest. Yes, he would have been dead.

  She handed back his axe. “With someone as untrained as you are, I don’t nee
d a weapon. You’re more a danger to yourself than your opponent.”

  “Oh.” It was all he could think to say. After the shock wore off he could only grimace. “So how do I get better? Should I be using another weapon, like your short sword?”

  “Want to try it?” She raised a brow with a hint of a smile. She seemed… sportive.

  Suddenly he didn’t want to try it. What made him think he’d be any better with an unfamiliar weapon?

  She drew out the weapon and offered it to him hilt first.

  He sighed with a shrug. He might as well see how she was going to humiliate him this time. He set his axe against the barn and took the sword. It felt a lot lighter in his hand and he didn’t know what to do with his free hand.

  “Go ahead, swing at me. Faster this time.” Her smile and that suggestion of play was gone: all business. “Don’t worry, you won’t hit me.”

  He believed her.

  He let out a huff of a breath. He aimed a slice at her shoulder with a slight downward angle. He wasn’t moving at full speed, but still quicker than the last time. She, however, moved far faster. She had his wrist, then… everything spun and the breath was knocked out of him as he hit the ground in an all too familiar way.

  He was on his back again, the breath blown out of him, only this time she was on top of him. She had one knee on his free arm pinning it. Her other leg was on the other side of him, bracing her. The sword, still in his hand, was at his neck. He had no power over the weapon, something about how she was holding his wrist, all twisted.

  She plucked the weapon from his nerveless fingers with her free hand and stuck it in the ground near his head. Then she leaned over him. “And what did we learn?”

  Her eyes were pools of dark brown, intent on him. As much as there may have been a hint of mischief in her tone, those eyes belayed any jesting. She wanted to know what he’d learned.

  He grimaced. “Not to fight you.”

  She cocked her head to one side in a way that was slowly becoming familiar, this time it was accompanied by a dour look. “Jais.” Now she sounded like his aunt.

  “Maybe if you get off me and give me time to think, I’ll figure it out.”